J wanted a sequel to 2019’s Twelve Days of Christmas. A bit silly but here it is.
Jim held his head in his hands and groaned. Underneath his ass he had a cushion. He shifted on it. It didn’t help much.
Jim eyed his so-called best friend through slits in his fingers. “Listen, Partridge, I’m in no mood for your smirkiness.”
Bones chuckled. “I can see that. And that partridge thing better not become a new nickname. I was coerced into wearing that outfit.”
“Mm.” Jim released hold of his head long enough to stick a straw in his coffee.
“You look worse for wear. Can’t even swallow normal?”
“I did plenty of swallowing last night.”
“I definitely didn’t need to hear that.”
Jim couldn’t even bring up a smile. “Spock and I did a lot of celebrating our newly engaged status.”
Bones looked down at Jim’s cushion, shook his head. “Do I need to have you off duty for the day?”
“Could you? Not sure I’m going to make it otherwise.”
“Okay, but then your betrothed has to be the captain.”
“He’s fine. Doesn’t drink and is weirdly healthy and strong this morning.” Jim grimaced. “Vaguely annoying, really.”
“Informed the brass yet you’re getting hitched?”
“Spock filed the report for us last night in between—”
“Yeah, I get it,” his friend said quickly.
“He took me quite seriously about that pipers piping crack.” Jim groaned. “If you’re really going to have me off, I’m going to sleep for about a hundred hours.”
“You want a shot for your, uh, derriere pain?”
“Nah, it’ll go away on its own. Feels better already. All I can say is it’s a good thing the holidays are once a year.”
“You could have had a little less to drink. How about a shot for your head?”
“Don’t you have like a tablet?”
Bones shrugged. “Sure, but it will take longer to work.”
“Better that than you jabbing me in the neck.”
“I suppose you’ve had enough of being jabbed for a while,” Bones said with a smirk.
Jim rolled his eyes. “Here comes Spock. Behave.”
“I’m an angel,” Bones insisted.
“Good Morning, Captain. Doctor.”
Spock sat next to Jim, his gaze straying to the cushion underneath Jim’s ass. He glanced up at Jim.
“Er, Bones said I could be off duty for the next shift. You okay with that?”
“Of course, Captain. I can see quite clearly you need to recuperate.”
“When’s the big day anyway?” Bones asked.
“The sooner the better,” Spock said at the same time.
Jim mustered a small smile. “Yeah? Good. As soon as I feel normal again.”
“You’ve never been normal, Jim.”
“Shut up, Bones.” Jim struggled up from his chair in the mess and just barely refrained from rubbing a sore cheek.
“Do you require assistance to your quarters?” Spock asked.
“I’ll help him. Have to get him a hangover tablet anyway.” Bones stood up and took Jim’s arm. “Congratulations you two. I really mean it.”
Jim let himself be led from the mess room with a jaunty wave at Spock. Or at least an attempt at one. He really did feel like crap. But Spock said yes and soon they’d be married.
And since Spock’s last name was unproduceable, that meant Spock would just have to suffer with Captain and Commander Kirk.
“What are you giggling at?” Bones demanded as he pushed him into the turbolift.
“Just happy.” Jim winced. “Uh. But I’m not entirely sure I’m finished throwing up.”
Bones gave a long suffering sigh and then to Jim’s amazed horror, he stuck a hypospray into Jim’s neck.
“It’s good to always be prepared where you’re concerned. Merry Day After Christmas.”
Jim rubbed his neck. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”