-1Dis. Yah, its not mine.

I am back and posting a new story, thanks to a challenge from Schemer! And yes, this story DOES have a plot, (sort of) even if its not immediately evident. See, I have this writing problem: It always takes me forever to actually get to the main focus of the story, usually about 3 chapters. Oh well. Hopefully, you'll still have fun on the way there! Oh, and this story does have a slight reference to a part in my other ST story, but its not necessary to read the other story.

I apologize before hand for any typos in this story: I wont be able to print it off and proof read it. Im actually in Study Hall (im taking a 3 week college course) and Im actually supposed to be researching for my paper. Oh well. This is SO much more important!

Chapter 1

Kirk ambled into the Mess Hall, his expression suggesting an extreme hatred of all things living. 'Whoever invented early morning shifts' he thought darkly 'should be thrown into the nearest available entrance to Hell.'

With that cheery thought in mind, he made his way over to the replicator. After ordering a plate of food and a cup of coffee, he sat down by an equally bleary-eyed Dr. McCoy, who was also accompanied by a food tray and mug. Their greetings consisted of a few mumbles and unintelligible grunts. The Captain drank his coffee quickly, allowing him to once again register on the sentience scale. The doctor however, still looked rather dark and brooding. Feeling much more like himself now that he had caffeine coursing through his veins, Kirk decided to engage in amiable conversation.

"So Bones, have you recovered from yesterday's incident?"

If looks could kill, the young but exciting life of James Kirk would have ended at that moment, in an undoubtedly painful, drawn out way.

"Yeah," McCoy spat. "No thanks to you and your pointy-eared demon of a sidekick."

Kirk put on what he hoped was an innocent-looking expression. "It's not my fault, or Spock's either for that matter, that you got locked in that Sickbay storage unit!" he declared indignantly. "It was just a malfunction."

"Right." McCoy fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze. "So tell me: why was it that you so desperately needed those medical records which, I've noted, you've conveniently forgotten about now? And how did it come about that the computer was so expertly keyed out to my voice commands, hm?"

"Gremlins." Kirk replied promptly, completely dead pan.

Whatever famous Kirk fabrication McCoy had been expecting, it wasn't that. He stared blankly for a moment.

"Gremlins?"

"Mm-hmm." Kirk averred, starting in on his bacon and eggs. "Nasty little buggers. Been wreaking havoc all over. Ship must have an infestation or something."

"Well," the doctor snorted, back on track now. "I know of one green- blooded gremlin that had better watch out. And the same goes for you too." He pointed a menacing finger. "I'm gonna pull one over on you two so hard, you won't know which way is up!"

"And what, per se, is going to be your method of mass confusion?" Kirk smirked, completely unfazed. "A golf ball hidden amongst our spaghetti and meatballs?"
McCoy was nearly growling, but Kirk wasn't worried. It would probably take the doctor at least a month to think up a scheme, and even longer to actually carry out the plot.

It was then Kirk noticed that Spock was standing nearby, speaking into the replicator. Having been concentrated on McCoy's threatening, he hadn't seen the Vulcan enter the Hall. McCoy followed the Captain's gaze.

"If it isn't ol' bright-eyed and bushy tailed," he drawled. "Oughta be a law against anyone looking that alert this early in the morning."

Spock strode over to their table and placed his tray, which held only a few slices of fruit, beside Kirk.

"You need to eat more, Spock," McCoy barked in way of greeting. "I can deal with you not liking to eat much lunch, but the last thing I need is an anorexic Vulcan on my hands."

"Good morning to you as well," Spock said calmly. "I assure you, I have no desire to take such extreme measure. I simply have no appetite today. Besides," -an eyebrow quirked upward-"I thought that you were a doctor, not a nutritionist."

McCoy's eyes glittered with the challenge.

"Well, there's nothing I like better than a feisty Vulcan!"

Kirk watched as his two friends sparred. The other occupants of the Mess Hall listened too (as inconspicuously as they could) and many appeared to be taking notes. From what Kirk had heard, the Science Department kept a running list of McCoy's best insults, to read as a moral raiser whenever Spock worked them too hard.

It was hard to keep up with. The subject fluxuated often, as McCoy tended to change the topic whenever Spock started to get the upper hand in an argument. After awhile, with his breakfast long gone, Kirk realized his shift was due to start soon. He waited for a lapse in the heated debate (which came only when they paused to draw breath) and said,

"I'm heading to the Bridge. You fine gentlemen stay out of trouble now." Then, just to stir up the conversation-"You know, I think you two are more alike than you may realize."

Kirk left to the sound of both officers forcefully voicing their objections to that statement.

TBC

It has a plot, I swear! We'll get around to it eventually, I promise!