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The Christmas season. The most wonderful time of year!
Streets decorated to the nines with red ribbons, velvet, holly, plastic Santa Clauses, inflatable elves and reindeer. Boutiques filled with holiday shoppers, heavy laden with their gifts. Wearing thick coats and beautiful scarves in the wintry air. Christmas Trees plainly visible in every window of most homes. There's a huge tree in the town square. LED lights decorating everything in sight. Candles. Snow. Warm fires roaring in real brick fireplaces. Chestnuts roasting on a open fire, sold by the bag to eager customers. The enticing smells. Hot cocoa to drink. Goodies to eat. Fudge. Christmas puddings. Turkey with all the trimmings or ham if you prefer. Christmas colors. The sweet sights and sounds of velvet clad Victorian Carolers.
This all should have been wonderful, except for one thing.
Christmas on Wrigley Pleasure Planet wasn't Planet Earth.
Wrigley's Pleasure Planet tried its damnedest to be just like Earth, it really did. It's celebrations were nearly indistinguishable to the original. The tourist population probably rivaled the current one on Terra at this precise moment. However, to one Leonard H. McCoy, currently scowling into his glass of double Bourbon on the rocks, Wrigley's wasn't Earth no matter how much the planet put forth all those goddamned superficial trappings and holiday cheer and 'White Christmas' bullshit. Was the music of the ancient Earth Hawaiian crooner Don Ho piped into all the shopping areas really necessary?
No matter how much Jim insisted, things just weren't the same. For one thing, there was no family on Wrigley's. Not in Bones' case. And family was the most important thing about Christmas, wasn't it? Family being one twelve year old plucky girl by the name of Joanna Marie McCoy in Conyers, Georgia, America, Earth. Kid looked exactly like him. Same mousy brown hair, same eyes, same nose. Smart as a whip and fascinated with medicine, dissecting things, reading medical journals, just like Bones was at that age--so he's heard from the…subspace messages. Sure, things went to hell with her mother, didn't want to talk about that, but God, he's always tried-wanted, desperately wished he could come home during this time. And there was nothing like a real Georgia Christmas. Nothing. Leonard would be chopping down his own christmas tree in Georgia and that was one of many little things he missed.
He was a lousy father because instead of being on Earth and still married to Jo's mother, he was working hard on getting himself properly drunk in Wrigley's version of the universally famous 'Playboy Club'. The club was modeled on the old Twentieth-Century Earth concept, created by the late Terran, Hugh Hefner.
The 'Playboy' brand itself was a bit of a relic really, many considered it sexist as all hell. However it was considered a classy establishment and had always prided itself on being an equal opportunity employer, throughout the years and paid its employee's well. All Earth nationalities, creeds, religions, alien races, etc were welcome to apply for work or to become a key holding member.
This particular club was notable as it employed both men and women as Playboy Bunnies. The men were dressed no differently to the women. They wore the famous 'Bunny' costume. They wore three inch heels in a matching color, black panty hose, those famous satin bunny ears and requisite white fluffy bunny tail. The male Bunnies made no attempt to feminize themselves besides donning a wig, wearing falsies, shaving their chest, underarms and legs. Male Playboy Bunnies were an unusual sight for a Playboy Club but seeing the men gussied up like this was just as erotic as the curvy women.
Jim Kirk was the key holder to this Playboy Club, as were all the Federation Star Ship captains. Scotty and Spock and McCoy were here as the Captain's invited guests.
The four officers sat in a booth tucked in the corner with red velour seating, listening to the old fashioned big band with real instruments churn out 'Top 40's' hits (stuff popular on Wrigley's). It was Spock's first time here, of course and the pointy eared bastard watched proceedings with that cooly detached, haughty disapproval he often exhibited. It was barely tolerable sober but the more Bones drank the more he wished he could smack that look off the smug asshole's face.
The club was hopping tonight, pardon the pun. Plenty of sexy, sultry Bunnies to gaze at to ease the emotional holiday pain. McCoy eyed one brunette nicely filling out a purple costume and sauntering by in her Bunny way. She smiled at him. He sighed.
"Enjoying the view, Bones?"
"No, I'm hating it, Jim. Absolutely disgusted by the look of 'em."
"I think I'd like to pull one into a back room," Mr. Scott said earnestly. "Gi'a hold of those ample nacelles."
"There is a high probability that she is stuffing her braziere," Spock observed. "Or at the very least her breasts are artificial."
"How's your Altair water, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked him.
"Adequate," Spock said quietly.
"Now, how the hell do you know that?" Bones demanded.
"Pardon?"
"That she is stuffing her bra? How is that even important? What makes you think they're fake? I mean...I don't know. Why'd we even bring this guy along, Jim?"
"Her breasts are trussed up at an unnaturally high angle and they appear much too large for her frame."
"And you're an authority on tits, are you?"
"I did have a girlfriend," Spock replied.
Bones shook his head. "I'm not even…not gonna reply to that..."
"Best you don't, Bones," Jim warned.
There was a long pause before Scotty said: "I didn't know tits could be too large."
There was a collective groan at the table from the three humans and a definite eye-rolling from Spock before Jim's communicator beeped. "Dammit," Jim said, before flipping it open a little too forcefully. "Kirk here."
"Captain, your presence is needed on board ship."
All the ears at the table perked up at that. "Problem, Lieutenant?"
"Negative Sir, Admiral Sennett is standing by on an urgent subspace transmission."
Jim sighed mightily. "I'll be at the beam up coordinates, in three minutes. Kirk out." He stood. "Gentlemen."
Spock, McCoy and Scott stood up to leave with him.
"No, no," Jim protested. "You three, stay. Please. This is supposed to be shore leave. Enjoy yourselves. I'll be back in a few hours."
"Are you certain, Captain?" Spock asked. "Surely as first officer, I should--"
"No, Spock. You sit." Jim smiled and clapped the first officer on the shoulder. "Stay awhile. Get to know Scotty and Bones a little better. Have fun."
"Fun? I do not require--"
"Fun," Jim repeated. "See you later, gentlemen."
"Jim, I got your tab," McCoy called out.
"Nope, tonight's on me. Just…" Jim held out his hands. "Enjoy yourselves. Safely."
"No problem, Captain," Scotty agreed.
"Shouldn't that be my line, Jim?"
Jim stuck his tongue out at Bones, nodded at the three and exited. Since no beaming in or out could be done inside the club, the coordinates were right at the entrance.
Scotty, Bones and Spock sat back down. If Bones hadn't known Spock a little better--actually he didn't know the Vulcan all that well, Spock could be standoffish or even shy--he could have sworn that Spock had slunk dejectedly down in his seat.
*
"Wha'd I'd like to find out," Scotty slurred out, "Is what the... black uniforms are all about…"
"Oh, the Bunnies who get to wear the black uniform are the best Bunnies," McCoy replied.
"That they are," Scott agreed. "Seem the most glamorous."
"That's right. They have to earn that suit. The Black Bunnies get more pay. They consistently give the best service, they epitomize the "Bunny image", meaning they look the prettiest, or…they're the most handsome as the case may be. They're the most svelte. The best figure. Yep." McCoy took a drink of his mint julep. He'd switched over to the nicer drink all dressed up a bit in the pretty glass, the Bunny stick with the huge mint garnish and the playboy napkin it rested on. "Black uniform, that's considered a Playboy honor, even over the VIP Bunnies who are clad in blue velvet."
"You seem, Doctor," Scotty replied, also taking a drink of his scotch, "to have a satisfying knowledge of Playboy Bunnies. I like that about you."
"Oh…" McCoy smiled. "Why, thank you. I have to admit I have a little bit of a Playboy Bunny fetish."
"A Bunny fetish?" Scott asked. "Tell me more."
"Always had a Playboy Bunny fetish. Always had a thing for anyone wearing them. Maybe wanted to wear one myself but most importantly, I've always wanted to…uh…" McCoy said something he never ordinarily would have admitted to without the alcohol and party atmosphere: "I've always wanted to fuck someone who was wearing a Bunny outfit."
Scotty nearly choked on his drink he was laughing so hard. "That sounds like fun. Maybe I should get one."
"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Scott? What? You want me to fuck you while you're wearing a bunny suit? Is that what you're saying Scotty?" McCoy was giggling like a madman and at the moment it seemed hilarious to harass the chief Engineer.
"What? Me? No."
"I think you are, Scotty." McCoy couldn't help but waggle his eyebrows at the Chief Engineer then looked over at Spock, realized he'd been sitting here silently and stiffly this whole time, nursing that same Altair Water. He blushed. "Oh. Hi, Spock."
"Doctor."
"Sure you don't want anything stronger, Mr. Spock?"
"Affirmative."
The waitress came by and Scotty hailed her to bring him yet another scotch.
"I continue to be amazed, Scotty," McCoy noted, now gravely serious, "at just how much booze you manage to put away. Just watch your liver, alright?"
"Oh, aye. I'm watching it."
"Alright. Just your kindly friendly doctor letting you know."
The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver tray. The name-tag on her hip identified her as 'Bunny Susan'. She did the most cutest little Bunny dip Bones had ever seen as she handed the drinks over and she must have had super hearing. "You're a doctor?"
"You're looking at the Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. Top doc in all forms of medicine," Scotty bragged for McCoy.
"Top doc, huh?" Bunny Susan replied. "That's wonderful!"
"Well…" McCoy said, blushing, in his aw shucks voice. "Not all forms."
"The best of the best," Scotty added. "None better than Doctor Leonard McCoy, here."
"Oh!" Susan said, much too enthusiastically. "Interesting."
Scotty handed over real money for a tip-- one had to exchange credits at the cage for either casino chips or real money to tip in here, in keeping with the nostalgia-- and she stuck it down her ample cleavage. "Ohhh," McCoy sighed under his breath. Scotty and McCoy watched the snowy white, fluffy bunny tail shake on her derrière as she exited.
Spock cleared his throat. McCoy and Scotty's respective heads snapped back around at the the noise. "I believe I shall be taking my leave of you, Gentlemen."
"What, already?" the two humans protested. "Evening's just getting started."
"I have surmised that sitting here and watching you both imbibe copious amounts of ethanol and engage in atrocious human sexual mating behavior for three point two standard hours, fulfills the order of 'stay awhile' stipulated by the captain. And since he has not returned in a timely manner, my duty is better served aboard ship."
"Atrocious Human sexual mating behavior? We're just having a good time!" McCoy protested.
"What's the matter?" Scotty asked. "Not having any fun?"
"I have more important duties to perform than interstellar babysitter." Spock stood up.
"Babysitter?" Scotty's eyes narrowed. "Who are you calling babies--?"
"Oh…let him go, Scotty," McCoy said. "Don't need any grumpy ass Vulcans getting us down anyways, pissing on our bonfire. We're right behind you, Mr. Spock." McCoy waved him off.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed." He extricated himself gracefully from the booth and purposely strode out.
"Asshole," McCoy muttered.
*
Scotty jolted awake. Face down. As he slowly came aware of everything, he was thankful that he was was not lying in a pool of his own vomit but he quickly realized he was outside on the hard pavement. A light snow was falling. He was cold. It was dawn. Just how much had he had to drink?
A pounding headache was forming and he groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting position. He looked around. Dr. McCoy was nowhere in sight. The Playboy Club wasn't even in the vicinity. Dr. McCoy must have beamed back aboard ship. Strange that the doc would just leave him down here on Wrigley's, passed out. He found his communicator that was thankfully still on his hip. "Scott to Enterprise."
"Scotty," the captain answered. "About time. Must have been some night."
"Aye," Scott replied. "I'll be needing Dr. McCoy to gi'e me one of his magical hangover cures."
"Well, I'm sure Bones is probably in the same shape you're in."
Somehow something didn't seem right the Chief Engineer. "Probably?"
"Bones is with you, right?"
Scotty looked around yet again. He had no idea where the hell he even was at the moment. "Uh…no."
"Oh, that's just... great."
"Has he uh…checked in?"
"No, Scotty," Kirk said tersely. "Now get your ass up here while we scan the goddamned planet and look for him."
"Shit," Scotty whined as the Enterprise's beam caught him. "I lost Dr. McCoy!"
*
The planetary scans had failed to come up with any trace of Dr. McCoy. However the Playboy Club itself was shielded from scanning due to 'security concerns'. There was a far off chance that the Chief Medical Officer was still on the premises. They would need to investigate the establishment before moving on to a detailed search of the entire planetary system.
All shore leave was now cancelled to the dismay of the crew.
Kirk sat brooding into his coffee in the main conference room with a guilty Scotty and a rather contrite (for a Vulcan) Mr. Spock. "This wouldn't have happened if you two would have been looking after each other. You, Mr. Scott, got so damned inebriated that you don't know what the hell was going on around you--"
"Aye."
"And you, Mr. Spock. You couldn't even sit with the two men like I asked you to and make sure nothing untoward happened to them. You're both on report."
"In Mr. Spock's defense," Scott said. "What could possibly happen to someone at the Playboy Club?"
"I don't know. It's supposed to be a classy establishment, right? However, we can only assume and hope that Dr. McCoy is still there and ok. Right now the club is closed. It's Monday on Wrigley's. Uhura is hailing their admin offices on a continual basis in case we can catch someone who might know something. Anything." Kirk clenched his fists.
"Should we contact the local authorities?" Spock asked.
Scott snorted. "They aren't gonna do anything, this is Wrigley's we're talking about."
"That's enough, Mr. Scott. Mr. Spock, I want to talk with the club proprietor. What name did you come up with?"
Spock made a few notations on his PADD. "Fascinating. The only name that seems to be attached to the club is: Mr. Hugh Hefner."
"What?" Kirk scrunched up his face. "That doesn't seem right. He's been dead over two hundred years."
"Quite possibly a descendant of his."
"Maybe." Kirk stood up and his two officers rose with him. "Gentlemen, you have your work cut out for you. Dismissed."
Scotty nodded and exited.
Spock hesitated at the table. "I must apologize. I certainly did not mean to put one of our senior officers in jeopardy."
"Mr. Spock, you really need to lighten up," Jim snapped. "If you were paying attention-- letting anyone get close to you through that icy Vulcan exterior, you'd realize that Dr. McCoy is really fond of you. Maybe you should give the poor guy a chance."
Spock nodded thoughtfully, almost sadly. "I see." He exited.
*
Kirk and Security Officer Connors materialized at the Playboy club's entrance. With the gold key in hand Kirk went to the door. He stuck the key in the lock. Nothing happened. That was odd.
"Can I help you, sir?" the attendant behind the security window asked."Yes. My key isn't working."
"Oh, really? Let me have a look at your key." The woman took it from him. She scanned it then frowned at it. "Oh yes, Captain James T. Kirk. I'm afraid that your membership privileges have been revoked."
"Revoked? Why?"
"I'm very sorry. But it does not list a reason. I cannot grant you entry if your membership has been revoked."
"Well," Kirk said, gritting his teeth and really having to try hard to be civil to the young lady. "The real reason I am here is that I'm trying to locate someone inside your club. Perhaps you can help. I'm trying to locate a Dr. Leonard McCoy."
"Oh…I'm afraid I can't do that," she said. "All of our key holders and guests have a right to privacy."
Jim scratched his eyebrow. "Yes, I realize that, but Dr. McCoy has been in your club for a few days."
"A few days? That's impossible, sir. Nobody is here that long. Unless they have a suite upstairs. Perhaps he has a suite?"
"No, Dr. McCoy doesn't have a suite."
"Well, then I don't know what to tell you. You'll have to speak with our administrative staff."
"Is someone from your administrative staff present?"
"Not at this time."
*
"This is Captain James T. Kirk, of the Starship Enterprise," Kirk said from the Enterprise bridge. "To whom am I speaking?"
"Sandra Zoberblatt. I'm head of Administration here at the Playboy Club. And what seems to be the problem, Captain?"
"Uh…yes. We have reason to believe that you have our Chief Medical Officer inside your club."
"And who is your Chief Medical Officer?"
Kirk sighed. "His name is Dr. Leonard McCoy. We have reason to believe that you are holding him--"
"Is he a key holder or would he be here on a borrowed key?"
"He was a guest there, of mine. James T. K--"
"One moment please." The channel was silent for a long, long moments. Jim was about open a new one when: "I am sorry, Captain Kirk. There is no Dr. McCoy here."
"He has to be there. Blue star-fleet uniform with Enterprise Insignia. Mid thirties, brown hair. Will you please check again?"
"I have already checked the system. We have nobody here who fits that description. "
"I would like to speak with the proprietor of your establishment. We have him listed as Mr. Hugh Hefner."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hefner is unavailable at this time. Good day."
*
Kirk, accompanied by Mr. Connors, Mr. Leslie, and ‘Cupcake’ reappeared at the entrance of the playboy club. Phasers drawn. The attendant behind the window looked askance at what Kirk and company had pointed at her. "This window is completely phaser proof."
Jim Kirk was not about to give up. "I'm asking you very nicely, Madam, to let me inside the club, so that I may look for my Chief Medical Officer."
The woman smiled very sympathetically at him. And pressed a button. Suddenly they were surrounded by local police officers. Rifles pointed directly at them. "Drop your weapons, there are more of us than you."
Kirk nodded at his officers to drop their weapons. "Fine. Perhaps you can help us get to the bottom of this."
"First, you're all going downtown."
Kirk and his two security men were hand-cuffed, unceremoniously marched to squad cars and hauled off to the local jail.
*
Inside the tiny jail cell, Kirk paced back and forth. "When are you going to let us out? I have a missing man from my crew!"
"As soon as you have been processed you will be free to go."
"How long does it take to process someone? We've been here almost twenty-four hours."
"Shouldn't be long now. Would you care for some breakfast?"
"No, I don't want any breakfast. I want you to look for my Chief Medical Officer."
"I'm sorry, we can't do that. We can however serve you some lovely eggs and bacon, toast and coffee."
"I don't want--" Actually that sounded pretty damned good right now. Missing CMO or not, Jim hadn't eaten in forever and he was starving.
*
"Right," Kirk said to Spock in Transporter room A. "So are we all clear on what you are about to do?"
"Affirmative. I am to audition at the Playboy Club as a Playboy Bunny and while in their employ, search the establishment for Dr. McCoy and rescue him."
"This is not going to be the easiest undercover mission you have ever attempted. You will need to blend in perfectly."
"Affirmative. However we have no other choice. You yourself informed me that I should 'lighten up'. Perhaps this would be the best way to do so."
"Dressed as a Playboy Bunny?"
"Indeed."
"Well. Alright. If you say so. By the way, Spock. I owe you an apology. I was out of line when I said that to you."
"Not at all, Captain." Spock gave Kirk a small smirk.
Kirk snapped back to business. "McCoy might be tied up in a back room somewhere. Prisoner. Who knows what's happening to him. Just be vigilant and be safe. Good luck, Mr. Spock. Energize."
*
Spock, clad in the civilian attire the shipboard computer had delegated him, noted the sign at the administrative offices, on Upper B Street in the Belmont area: "Playboy Bunny auditions today." He glanced down at the dance bag he clutched. There would be no room for error.
*
"Five, six, seven, eight…walk walk walk, walk walk walk, again! Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk, walk! And again!" The woman, who'd identified herself as the Admin Bunny Mother, shouted various commands to the men and women on the parquet floor.
The auditions were intense, continuing for a standard hour so far. All of the assembled men and women were wearing heels, panty hose, and leotards. Spock knew he looked sufficiently convincing in his, from having kept himself in top physical condition. He hadn't bothered to shave his body hair at this point, but assumed they would ask him to, were he hired.
"Alright, you, you and you, are out. I'm sorry. You're done for today." The Bunny Mother tapped a few people in his vicinity who quietly but obviously disappointedly cleared the floor. It was not logical to breathe a sigh of relief that he was still in the running, so Spock did not do so.
After another hour of auditions, more men and women were tapped out.
Spock had managed to reach the final audition stage. He raised an eyebrow as he found himself scrutinized very carefully by the Bunny Mother. Perhaps they had never seen a Vulcan audition as a Playboy Bunny before.
Finally the audition process came to the end. “The names of successful New Bunnies will be posted by the end of the day at 5pm. Those names posted will come tomorrow for training . Thank you!”
One could only hope that Spock had passed the audition.
*
It was most gratifying to discover that Spock had indeed made it past the audition. He would have been surprised if he had not, had he been human, that is. His movements had been executed perfectly.
He was due to begin rehearsal (or training if you will) for the position at 8am the next morning. This meant he had the entire evening free. Upon contacting the captain to ask if he should not beam back aboard ship—he was ordered by Jim to ‘get yourself dinner and a hotel room and relax for the night’. That was logical, one might have been spotted beaming up.
The temperature had plummeted with nightfall. He was most grateful for the black heavy wool coat he wore. He tightened his scarf around his neck, pulled down his blue knitted hat. Figures— humanoid and otherwise— hurried past him, carrying parcels.
He located a restaurant serving Vegan/Vegetarian cuisine. The restaurant was packed. However, after only a ten minute wait in the bar, where he sipped on a glass of Altair Water with a lemon, he was seated at a table for one. He noted many stares. As he met their curious eyes, they looked away. Though he looked no different physically to others, his Vulcan ears hidden by his knit hat, he did appear to be the only patron alone at a table, in and of itself unusual to them. The jovial ambient noises might have been annoying but he was able to block much it while eating his salad.
The hotel, less than a block from the restaurant, proved to be more than adequate for his purposes. The foyer of the establishment was brightly decorated for the holiday season. Swathes of fabric, wreathes of holly, colors of green and red, christmas trees with twinkling lights in time to music. Wrapped boxes in metallic papers all the colors of the rainbow sat underneath said trees. Though he did not celebrate this season one could appreciate the beauty of it.
He looked out the window of his room, watching the snow flakes illuminated with blue light provided by the planet’s two moons. There was really nothing for him to do at this point, no PADD based work, or anything else to occupy his time. So he stood there idly, observing the wintery scene. As he did so he found himself struck by an odd… emotion. He had experienced it before but he did not normally put a label on the physical ‘feeling’ that he had experienced in the pit of his stomach when he was a child, the victim of bullies, simply avoided by all the other children. Loneliness. This planet made him feel very… lonely. He could not figure out why.
Shaking off the sensation, he went to the bathroom to perform his ablutions and retired for the night.
*
One could appreciate the efficiency of the Playboy club support staff. Towards the end of the long training day, a stern seamstress took measurements of Spock’s entire body, writing everything down with an antiquated pencil on real paper. He’d attempted to explain to the woman that he was more than capable of conveying his correct sizes, till she delivered a warning glance, cutting him off.
After she’d finished, the woman directed him to sit in a waiting area for exactly one half hour. Soon he was handed his Bunny suit. He entered the dressing room and donned the outfit, comprised of a green velvet corset sewn to a green velvet brief style panty, accented in white fur. He was told that the green matched his olive skin tone, which was entirely correct.
He presented himself for her approval. She appeared satisfied by the fit and it did indeed clothe his body precisely, 'like a glove' as the humans were fond of saying. He was told he must wax his chest, underarms and legs but he had been expecting to. He was given make-up lessons, then fitted with a wig. The natural hair was an identical coloring to his own, with bangs as short as his own and at shoulder length. The wig stylist/make-up tutor had wanted to play up his ‘beautiful brown eyes and delicate eyebrows’ as she’d described them.
He was given a pair of dyed green two inch high heels. Also he would be wearing two layers of pantyhose with old fashioned seams running along the back of the legs, a black nylon under layer and a nude pair of hose on top of that, as required by the position. That would prove interesting. Also he would be required to ‘tuck in his manhood’ while in costume, as the woman had described it, wearing special underwear designed for this purpose.
It had been explained to them of the different types of Bunnies populating the club: The 'coat check' Bunny, the 'Floor Bunny', the VIP Bunnies, the cigarette and candy Bunnies, and the special holiday bunnies.
The 'Coat Check' Bunny looked after coats and scarves left in her charge. The 'Door' Bunny was the front door attendant. The 'Floor' Bunnies were the food/beverage servers. The 'VIP Bunnies', clad in blue velvet, served the VIP rooms. The 'Cigarette and Candy' Bunnies sold wares from a tray strapped to their bodies. The special 'Christmas Bunnies' were clad in green or red velvet.Spock was to be one of the ‘Christmas Bunnies’, a temporary position, ostensively to test if a new hire was able to handle the rigors of the job. His particular duties would be comprised of 'Floor Bunny' due to the extra capacity during the Christmas season. He would be waiting tables: serving drinks and dinners. He would be expected to know of more than 300 drinks from all planets of the universe and the garnishes for every drink. That proved quite easy to memorize. Additionally as a Christmas Bunny, he would be assisting the club's Santa Claus handing out small wrapped trinkets as gifts to the club patrons on Christmas day.
There were certain maneuvers required of them as a Bunny. They would stand in front of customers using the 'Bunny Stance': legs together, back arched, hips tucked under. They served drinks and meals with the ‘Bunny dip’: gracefully leaning backwards while bending the knees. A Bunny rested or waited to be of service by utilizing the 'Bunny Perch': sitting on the back of a chair, sofa or railing without getting too close to a patron. They would move throughout the club using the famous ‘Bunny Walk’. This was not too much different to any type of military training so he adjusted to the requirements easily.
The more difficult part of the job description would be engaging in flirtatious repartee with customers, this being the most inconsistency to his own shipboard behavior. He was grateful that no key holder or guest was allowed to touch a Bunny. Most patrons did indeed know and follow the rules of the club and would not attempt to molest him. Any others violating the prohibition would be politely reminded the first time, any other infractions resulting in their immediate removal and possible suspension.
He would also be watched carefully by staff, to make certain his attire and personal grooming were up to par. That was certainly not a problem.
He attached his name tag: ‘Bunny Spock’ onto his hip, where one must place it, attached the bow tie and cufflinks, positioned the large cotton bunny tail on his rear end. Finally, he delicately slipped the green velvet bunny ears on the very top of his head. He checked the entire ensemble in the full length mirror and could not avoid an audible gasp. His reflection was dramatically altered from his usual shipboard appearance. Fascinating.
*
On his first shift working as a Bunny, Spock clocked in ten minutes early then turned up to the dressing room precisely at 3pm. He would have exactly one standard hour to get into make-up, wig and costume then he must be out on the floor, tray in hand by 4pm. There were separate dressing rooms for female and male Bunnies. One could hear the laughter and excitement and music emanating from the female dressing room. By contrast the male area was much more subdued.
He donned his costume that had been hanging for him on the clothing rail. He sat down at the lighted make-up table where his wig and name was. He nodded at the two other male bunnies who sat doing their make-up, eyeing him up. “Greetings. I am Spock,” he said, introducing himself to the closest man next to him.
“Richard,” the other said back, giving him a nod. Other bunnies in the dressing room appeared rather standoffish, but Richard said to him: “Take no notice of them, they’re a little jealous because you look so good.”
“Ah,” Spock said.
“You’re really beautiful in drag. Anybody ever tell you that?”
“Thank you. However, I must admit that I have never dressed in drag before.”
“Oh…well. Never even seen a Vulcan work here before.”
Bunny Richard continued to murmur advice to him as they readied themselves, such as “watch out for Bunny James and Bunny Susan, they were the ‘Black Bunnies’ and thought they were hot shit”.
“Black Bunnies?”
“Yes, they’re wearing the black Bunny costume. It looks the nicest and we all wish we got to wear it. It also means they make a little more money, they are the best—or the club deems them the best Bunny. They’re kind of like our supervisors, they will be watching you and reporting you for any little infractions.”
“I see. Thank you,” Spock replied and resumed applying his own make-up.
*
“Are you a key holder or is this a borrowed key?” Spock asked the patron sitting at the table, talking loud enough over the band in the corner playing: ‘White Christmas’.
“Ooh, hello gorgeous,” the patron cooed at him, holding up her key for him to scan. “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you around.”
“This is my first day employed by the Playboy club,” he admitted to the patron.
“Oh, why… welcome!”
“Thank you,” Spock said, adding a bit of breathiness in his delivery as he had been instructed, hoping his eyes were flirtatious enough. He added a slight smirk. “Would you like to see our food menu, or perhaps you would like a drink to start off your evening?”
“How about both?”
“That would be excellent.” He handed over a menu PADD. “Our special today is braised lamb, with small potatoes, salad and green beans.”
“Alright, I’ll take the special. That sounds just fine.”
“What drink would you like me to bring you?”
“Gin and Tonic.”
“Excellent choice.” He flashed his eyes at her, as he had been trained to do. “I shall deliver it shortly.”
*
It might have appeared to the casual observer that the job of a Playboy Bunny was easy, but Spock now had to admit that the veteran Bunnies simply made it LOOK extremely easy. Delivering food to the customers, making sure they were satisfied with their meals and drinks, maneuvering in high heeled shoes, entertaining folks with flirtatious talk and movement, sitting perched on a chair as they had been trained.
There was a certain comfort in knowing the club was classy not crass. There was a certain amount of prestige to work here. Men and women often brought their elderly parents in to join them for dinner or held their birthday parties at the establishment. Spock was often the one who carried the huge birthday cake to the table and was required to lead in singing “Happy birthday”.
He’d already dropped a whole platter full of drinks on his very first day. His heel had caught in the floor, he’d tripped most ungracefully, and everything on the tray went flying. However, he’d managed to avoid soiling any customers.
Now, he was on his first week working at the Playboy Club. He was settling in nicely. He was taking extra shifts so he could be around the club as much as possible but so far there was no sign of Dr. McCoy. There was local gossip with the other bunnies, that Mr. Hefner (always “Mr. Hefner” not “Hef”) was seriously ill but a handsome young doctor was looking after him most satisfactorly.
Spock still did not know if this “Mr. Hefner” was actually a descendant of the original Hugh Hefner. He must be. Spock had tried but also could not get a name or description of the ‘handsome young doctor’.
It was, however interesting to note that he was scoring a high amount of tips. The customers, both women and men, enjoyed watching him stuff his tips down the front of his bustier. There was a pocket sewn into the top for such a purpose. Seeing him do this, being in danger of exposing a nipple perhaps, seemed to encourage their generosity.
*
It was Christmas Eve aboard the USS Enterprise.
There had been the normal holiday celebrations organized by Chief Petty Officer Simmons but the atmosphere aboard ship had been extremely subdued this year.
Jim Kirk certainly didn’t feel like celebrating, not with a missing chief medical officer and his first officer forced to go undercover as a Playboy Bunny.
However, Jim found himself wondering, fantasising maybe what his first officer might look like in the Playboy Bunny suit. Probably didn’t look too bad. Probably looked great, actually. Spock would be wearing a wig, make-up, heels, bunny ears, costume…Jim wondered what color.
Jim decided it was time to go take an ice cold shower.
*
“Oh, Bunny Spock!” the Black Bunny, Susan, (a stunningly beautiful blonde) called over to him. “We’re going to need another several boxfuls of candy canes to pass out to keyholders. You’re the only one who can lift that much.”
“I can certainly retrieve them,” Spock told Bunny Susan, "if you would be so kind as to tell me their location.”
“They’re in a storage closet, in the left hand hallway marked ‘no admittance’.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I am allowed access? The motion sensor…” It had beeped on him once before when he’d breached the perimeter, trying to investigate where the corridor lead. A security guard had come rushing up to escort him away and back to the serving floor.
“I’ll turn it off. We can access that hallway if necessary, but only then. Hurry. Let me know when you come back onto the floor.”
“Acknowl…I mean…of course, Bunny Susan,” Spock replied.
*
Spock opened the supply closet with his key card. The corridor he found himself in was an area of the club, removed from everything else, far in the back. An area he’d never been able to see before. Closed doors lined the carpeted, gold trimmed hallway which had the look of a swanky hotel. All of those doors had proven to be locked.
He was about to lift the candy cane boxes, when one of the many doors opened. A man stepped through and into the corridor. Dr. Leonard McCoy. Out of uniform, wearing a white button up shirt, black trousers and a red brocade robe.
McCoy looked right through Spock as if he didn’t recognize him so he softly called out: “Doctor.”
Finally it appeared to register on McCoy’s face. He took in Spock’s appearance. The man froze in shock and gasped. “Spock?” McCoy broke out into a grin. “Spock!” he whispered. “What are you doing—? How’d you—? Oh my God.”
“What do you think I am doing here, Doctor?”
There were voices far off in the distance, so McCoy grabbed hold of Spock’s wrist, staring at the Playboy cufflinks, yanked him into the supply closet and shut them both inside.
“I am here to rescue you,” Spock hissed to him in the enclosed space.
“What? I can’t come with you,” McCoy replied. “Not yet, at least.”
“Why not?”
McCoy held up his hands A thin silver band encircled each wrist. “I can’t escape. Tried to, once. Was in excruciating pain for my trouble. They don’t fool around in this place. I can’t leave the club.”
“I will locate the device necessary to deactivate them.”
“No, no, no. Wait.”
“Wait, Doctor?”
“The reason why they kidnapped me, is that they need me. They don’t have a doctor on staff but they have an ailing patient. It’s Hugh Hefner.”
“Hugh Hefner?”
“The original. He’s 275 years old. All body parts have been replaced, besides the brain.”
“That must have been expensive,” Spock remarked.
“Well, he’s Hugh Hefner, the billionare, he can certainly afford it,” McCoy said.
“He does not have a doctor on staff?”
“The last one quit,” McCoy said. “Missed his family back on Rigel II, so he left Hef in a lurch. Hef’s pretty fragile on a good day. Still looks great though. Been suffering from influenza. A person at that age, the flu can really be dangerous. I almost lost him but he’s doing okay, now. Recovering. He wants to be well enough to play Santa.”
“Yes,” Spock said. “I had heard talk of Mr. Hefner playing the Santa Claus.”
“Lots of people come to the club see Hef dressed up as Santa. It would really be awful if he can’t perform tomorrow.”
“Indeed.”
“And you’re gonna be one of his little elves,” McCoy said, looking Spock up and down.
There was a noise and commotion outside the door. McCoy and Spock froze.
“Shit,” McCoy hissed. “I think they’re on to us.”
There was another, louder noise of someone using a key in the keyslot.
Suddenly, McCoy pulled Spock to him by the scruff of the neck, firmly meeting Spock’s lips with his mouth. Spock barely had time to react to this so his hands stayed down at his side, fingers splayed in surprise.
The door slid open. “Bunny Spock!”
It was Bunny Susan, the black bunny, standing there, hands on hips. McCoy broke away from Spock. “Oh…” he said to the Bunny. “Hi.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bunny Susan demanded.
Spock was caught off guard, uncertain— “I uh…”
“Sorry,” McCoy told her. “My fault. This poor Bunny here looked so good, so tasty, I couldn’t keep my hands off her…or him actually. He was trying to get a box of your candy canes. Just doing his job…and here I jumped him.”
“You pulled one of our Bunnies into the closet.”
“Yeah,” McCoy agreed. “I sure did.”
“You know you’re not supposed to touch the Bunnies. You’re not even supposed to be back here, Sir.”
“I’m the doctor, treating Mr. Hefner.”
“Oh,” Bunny Susan said. “I remember you. Doctor!” she said with some disgust.
“Yes.” McCoy gave her a flirtatious smile. Spock rolled his eyes.
“Well, I suppose that this one time it’s alright. Let’s go, Bunny Spock,” Bunny Susan grabbed Spock's arm.
“Bye, Bunny!” McCoy called out after him, waving.
Spock looked behind him. Spock’s red lipstick was smeared all over the doctor’s lips. He shot McCoy a sharp glance, as he was lead away by his Bunny supervisor.
*
Spock was escorted to the dressing room fix his make-up, all the while given a stern lecturing by Bunny Susan. “You have to be careful. That damned grabby jerk. Are you okay?”
“It is quite alright, Bunny Susan. I am fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have Bunny Richard fetch the candy canes. You get yourself presentable and come back on the floor in ten minutes.”
“Acknowleged.”
She giggled. “You sound like you’ve been in the military.”
“I was, at one point in my life,” Spock replied.
*
Spock quickly fixed his make-up. He had five more minutes to spare and since he appeared to be alone here at the moment, he pulled out his communicator from his tip pocket sewn into his costume. The communicator had proven slim enough to be carried there without detection.
“Spock to Enterprise,” Spock whispered.
“Spock?” Lieutenant Uhura’s voice rang out, “Is it really you?”
“Of course, Nyota.”
“Are you alright?”
“I am quite well. Please put me through to the captain.”
“Spock!” Jim’s voice rang out.
“Jim. I have some good news to report. I have found Dr. McCoy, inside the club.”
“Well, bring him home, Spock.”
“I cannot. He is being held against his will, tethered here with cuffs. I spoke to him briefly but we were interrupted.” Spock immediately brought a hand to his lips. “He is treating a patient…the original Hugh Hefner.”
“The Hef? Really?”
“Indeed. Kept alive by genetic engineering, according to McCoy. The man has been quite ill but will hopefully be well enough to play Santa Claus tomorrow.”
“Oh…” Jim replied, wistfully. “Wish I could see that. What color bunny outfit you got on, Spock?”
“Green velvet.”
“Bet that looks great.”
Spock cleared his throat. “Jim.”
*
Much to the delight of the entire club staff and the throng of key holders and guests in attendance, Mr. Hugh Hefner was able to play ‘Santa Claus’ on Christmas day.
The Christmas Bunnies, ten in all, including Bunny Spock, stood at the ready to assist Santa. Half were clad in green velvet, just like Bunny Spock, and the other half were clad in red velvet. The key holders and guests each got to pose with Santa for a commemorative photograph, the Christmas Bunnies surrounding them. As the band played ‘Jingle Bells’ and other holiday songs, Santa and the Bunnies then handed out candy canes and small gifts to each of the key holders.
Bunny Spock spied Dr. McCoy leaning against a wall, sipping on a drink, looking wistful at the scene. Their eyes met, and McCoy glanced away, blushing.
Last night, in his hotel room, Spock had not been able to avoid thinking of that kiss in the supply closet. It had not upset him at all, rather the kiss appeared to replay over and over in his head, almost as a fantasy. The touch of lips, as brief as it was-- more show, than substance-- was still extremely pleasant.
Hugh Hefner the Santa Claus appeared on the band stage, clinking a drinking glass with a silver spoon. The entire club hushed to see what Santa Claus had to say.
“I have an announcement to make,” Hef said. “I want to tell you how grateful I am for my new doctor, Leonard McCoy. Come over here, Dr. McCoy.” Hef beckoned the doctor over to him. McCoy furrowed his brow but left his corner and joined Hef at the stage. “Thank you, doctor for the wonderful Christmas gift of my good health. You are a wonderful, talented physician.”
McCoy grimaced. “You're welcome.”
“Doctor, I know that I’m a horrible man,” Hef said. “I really am.”
The entire club erupted with: “No!’s" and "that’s not true".
“No, no. I am. Dr. McCoy is here against his will. I was so selfish to keep this poor man prisoner. Made his ship and crew worry sick about him. I am very sorry for my actions, Dr. McCoy,” Hef said, gravely.
McCoy softened at that. “You were desperate, so…" He sighed. "It’s forgiven. Ah, hell. It’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake!” The entire club broke out in applause. Hef hugged Dr. McCoy. “However,” McCoy said. “My ship is worried about me. I am a Starfleet officer.”
“You need to go back to your ship,” Hef realized.
“Yes,” McCoy replied. “I do.”
“What am I going to do for a doctor? I don’t like any of the doctors here on Wrigley’s. They’re not used to handling a case like mine.”
“Right,” McCoy said. “I’ll contact Starfleet Medical. I have a certain amount of clout, being Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. They’ll send somebody out. Within a couple days. I promise.”
“Can you stay on till they do so?”
“I have to ask my captain. Captain James T. Kirk. You…uh… took away his key.”
“Oh, yes,” Hef said. “I’ll have to rectify that.”
McCoy grinned.
*
Jim, Scotty and McCoy sat in a booth. Everything was on the house for them, courtesy of Mr. Hefner.
Jim and Scotty nearly had heart attacks when they saw who their Bunny was.
“The special today, is Turkey, with all the trimmings. Or ham,” Bunny Spock told them.
Jim and Scotty continued to gape at Bunny Spock. Bunny Spock tilted his head.
McCoy ordered for the two idiots. “Uh…Bunny Spock, bring them both the ham dinners.”
“Of course. Would you like a drink?”
“You know what their poison is,” McCoy answered. “I’ll have a Mint Julip, please.”
“Certainly.” Bunny Spock sauntered off, shaking his bunny tail as he walked.
“Holy. Mother. Of. God,” Scotty said.
“He looks fantastic,” Jim agreed.
“Yeah,” McCoy said, finding himself more than a little jealous at their lustful stares at Bunny Spock.
“He didn’t even say ‘ordering poison in bar is illogical’,” Jim gushed.
"His legs are a little on the thin side, though," Scotty noted.
"Oh Christ," McCoy mumbled.
*
The captain, McCoy and Scotty got their picture taken with Santa and the Bunnies. The photographer handed them the photo and Jim held it up with glee, like it was some prized artifact.
“I want another one,” McCoy told the photographer. “Just me with Bunny Spock.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” the photographer said. McCoy pulled Bunny Spock over and posed, just the two of them, McCoy’s hand wrapping around Bunny Spock’s tiny waist.
“Oh, Jesus,” Jim muttered. “Look at those two. Bones wearing a smoking jacket, Spock in his fucking green bunny suit.”
“That’s gonna be fun pic to share at their wedding reception,” Scotty said.
“Wedding reception?” Jim turned to Scotty. “What do you mean?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“What?”
“Look at their eyes.”
“What about their eyes?” Jim knew Bones was actually fond of the first officer, but nothing more than that.
“McCoy’s besotted by Spock,” Scotty said.
“Hell, I think I’m besotted by Bunny Spock,” Jim replied.
“No Captain. McCoy is in love with him.”
Jim watched the pair of them for a few moments. “It’s looks like Spock’s in love with him, too.”
*
At the end of Spock’s shift, Hugh Hefner (by now, out of his Santa Claus costume and wearing an identical smoking jacket to Bones) appeared with Bunny Spock at Kirk, McCoy and Scotty’s table. “Here.” Hef handed over a key to Dr. McCoy. “This is for you.”
“A Club key?”
“A VIP Key. I’ll take those cuffs off of you,” Hef said. McCoy held his wrists up so Hef could deactivate then remove them. “You’re free to go. Again, I thank you for your services and I’m very, very sorry Captain Kirk, for the inconvenience.”
Kirk nodded.
“Captain,” McCoy said. “Would you mind if I stayed on as Mr. Hefner’s physician for a couple more days? That is if we’re still fixing to stay in orbit for more shore leave.”
“I think that would be just fine, Bones.”
“Great! Thank you so much, Captain Kirk! Doctor, just to let you know, your VIP key, provides you with a sumptuous suite here in the playboy club. You will love it. You may come back here any time you wish. Any time you visit Wrigley’s, you may stay in the McCoy suite.”
“The McCoy suite?” Jim blinked.
“Yes, the ‘Dr. Leonard McCoy’ suite. Dr. McCoy, we don’t ordinarily allow key holders to touch our lovely Bunnies, but in your case you are our VIP and we make an exception for VIP’s. So… if you would like the company of any one of our Bunnies for the night in your suite, you are welcome to. With the Bunny’s agreement of course.”
Jim and Scotty’s eyes grew to saucers as McCoy didn’t even hesitate. “I can have their company…while they wear the bunny suit?”
“Wearing the Bunny suit, yes of course,” Hef replied.
“Bunny Spock,” McCoy said quickly. “I chose Bunny Spock. That is if he agrees to it.”
Hef looked over at Bunny Spock who bowed.
“Bunny Spock, it is,” Hef said.
McCoy held out his arm to Bunny Spock. “Shall we?”
As Bunny Spock and McCoy went off to the ‘Dr. Leonard McCoy Suite’ Kirk and Scotty watched in awe.
“I wish I could have saved Hugh Hefner’s life,” Scotty muttered.
*
McCoy opened the door of the suite, shaking his head ruefully at the ‘Dr. Leonard McCoy’ gold nameplate on the door. “After you,” he said to Bunny Spock.
Spock entered, the lights rose, dimly, McCoy closing the door behind them. “This looks comfortable,” Spock said. That was certainly an understatement.
“Yes.” The doctor appeared extremely nervous, coughing and clearing his throat a number of times. He took the silk robe off, shaking his head at it, leaving on the white shirt and the black trousers. “This thing is kind of ridiculous, isn’t it.” He went over to the bar. “Want a drink? Some water? I know, Altair water.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I believe I will have a Saurian Brandy.”
“Really? Alright. Saurian Brandy, coming right up.” The doctor went off and fixed Spock a drink. Spock took the opportunity to look around. There was a huge brightly colored sofa and ‘loveseat’ next to an antique wooden table, a huge bathroom with a sunken heart shaped tub and of course a bedroom with a heart shaped king sized bed.
“My uniform has been cleaned and pressed and is hanging up in the closet,” McCoy said as Spock returned to the living area. McCoy handed Spock his brandy, picked up the one for himself. “That was nice of them.” He clinked Spock’s glass. “Cheers.” McCoy motioned for Spock to sit down next to him on the sofa. He took a sip of his drink. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“This particular mission must have been very difficult. Dressing up like a Playboy Bunny. How’d you manage to sneak into the costume and wig, anyway?”
“Doctor. I auditioned and trained to be a Playboy Bunny. I have been working here for a week and a half. This is my uniform.”
The doctor looked at him, admiration in the hazel eyes. “So, you’re a real Bunny.”
“Affirmative.” Spock reached into the top of his costume and pulled out his tips for the day, setting them onto the coffee table.
“Jesus Christ, there’s gotta be about five hundred credits there.”
“Indeed.”
McCoy chuckled. "I'm sorry, Spock."
"Doctor?"
"I had you...figured out all wrong. You brought your dignity to the Playboy Bunny job, I was watching you out there. Couldn't keep my eyes off of you. You handled everything with aplomb."
"Of course."
"Well...you are confident." McCoy smiled as Spock smirked at him. "You're so different, right now, maybe it's freaking me out a little. Doesn't seem like you."
"Doctor, this really me." Spock thought about it for a moment. "I do not like being the odd one out. The one who is the loner. My life has been filled with loneliness."
McCoy nodded sadly. "I'm so very sorry to hear that."
"Do not apologize."
McCoy cleared his throat, again. “I'd uh...like to get to know you better. I asked you here, because you are the loveliest Bunny in the club. But you know, this doesn’t have to be…I mean…uh…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell I mean. You don’t need to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We can talk. I like to talk.”
“We can talk later. Would you like to touch me?”
“Oh, the direct route, huh? I won’t be able to stop, once I start.”
“Then, Doctor, do not stop.”
“The name’s Leonard for a start.” McCoy’s eyes were sparkling as he reached up to the very tip of the bunny ears, slid down a single finger, down the length of the ear, resting the top of Spock’s raven wig. “Real hair. Just as shiny as your own,” McCoy said softly.
"I am gratified that you like it."
"I do." McCoy ran his hand down the length of Spock’s wig, finger reaching out to caress the tip of Spock’s pointed ear sticking out of the hair. He gently cupped Spock’s face. Spock’s make-up was beautifully applied, from the lipstick, to the silver eyeshadow and the fake eyelashes and blush. McCoy’s hand dropped down to run along the silk and velvet bow tie, dropping down to the Vulcan’s shoulder. “So smooth,” he said, at the lack of body hair. “Is it only the chest hair you waxed?”
Spock lifted up his arm to show Leonard the hairless skin at the armpit. “Underarm, face, groin, legs, chest.”
“How long did it take you to get rid of it all?”
“I went to a salon. I did not compute the exact time. They even tidied up my eyebrows.”
Leonard chuckled. "Did it hurt?"
"It was not the most comfortable activity in the universe."
McCoy's hand slid along Spock’s shoulder, moving down to the costume, slid past the stuffed bustier, feeling the green velvet, moving down to Spock’s waist. Leonard knelt down in front of him, caressing down the panty hose.
“I love it that there’s a seam on the back of all the Bunnies’ hosery. It’s so mid twentieth century,” Leonard said. His hands moved further down to caress Spock’s high heeled shoes. He stood up, pulling Spock up with him by the hand, thumb reaching out to stroke the cuffs. The hand moved to rest on the soft bunny tail, then circling Spock's waist. The other hand came up to guide Spock closer, by the chin.
Leonard’s lips chastly, softly met Spock's but broke away, suddenly. “You sure this is okay?”
“I am here, with you, am I not?” Spock reached over to McCoy, pulled him close by the scruff of the neck, kissing him more passionately this time.
Leonard grabbed Spock’s hand and lead him towards the bedroom.
*
Kirk stood at the controls as Mr. Scott beamed Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy back aboard. They materialized and stepped down from the pads. McCoy and Spock both seemed very relaxed—well lucky them. McCoy was back in uniform, Spock was still in civies and carrying a large white box with a green bow on top.
“What’s that?” Jim asked Spock.
“A gift, from Mr. Hefner.”
“His costume,” McCoy said, blushing.
Scotty coughed from behind them.
“Come on, you two, lets go,” Kirk said, pushing them into the corridor. “I have a surprise for you, Bones. A late Christmas present. Since you couldn’t be bothered to be here for the party.”
“Hey. I was busy,” Bones protested.
The three strode into the lift. “Hef sure looked good,” Jim said.
“Yeah, for a 275 year old man.”
“Hope I look that good at that age,” Jim said. Bones rolled his eyes. “Well, Bones, the surprise is, the USS Enterprise is due for some intense calibrations. Orders from Starfleet Command.”
“Already? It’s a brand new ship.”
Spock nodded. “There are some calibrations we are in dire need of. They can only be performed by Starfleet technicians.”
“Gentlemen, we shall be orbiting Earth for three weeks. If everything goes as planned.”
“Three weeks? Earth?” McCoy’s eyes widened.
“Three weeks. So…that means an additional three weeks of shoreleave for all officers and crew. You can go and see your family, Bones. Spend New Years Eve in Georgia.” The doors swooshed open on deck five, Officer’s quarters. “Coming Spock?”
“I believe I shall escort the doctor to his quarters.”
“Uh, huh. Well, have fun. How about you two joining me for dinner?”
“Maybe some other time, Jim,” McCoy’s eyes were locked on Spock’s.
Jim exited, grumbling something about "feeling ignored".
The doors slid shut. Spock and McCoy did not speak for the remainder of the lift ride, nor did they as they strode down the deck 7 corridor to McCoy’s quarters. When they reached McCoy’s abode, Spock gently set his box down on McCoy’s bunk. McCoy slid his hands around Spock’s waist. “I can’t believe it," he breathed. "I haven’t seen them in so long.”
“You will have an enjoyable time, Doctor.”
“My name is Leonard, remember?”
“Leonard.”
“Will you meet my family…my daughter, JoAnna? Will you come to Georgia with me?”
“I will,” Spock said and leaned towards McCoy for a kiss.
____________
Fin.