The bridge of the Enterprise bustled with life as nervous Starfleet officers, hunched over their stations with anxious rigor, dreaded yet another Klingon attack. Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Enterprise, a modest yet brilliant man, wrung his hands in deep thought, staring out into the star-dappled space sprawled out before him. Out of all the enemies that the Federation had made over its many years of existence, the Klingons were some of the most dangerous; their entire society was driven by a love of conquering, which the Klingons viewed as a symbol of honor. Honor, Thought the Captain, rubbing his temples, Honor my ass. Where’s the honor in mindless violence and destruction?
It was obvious to the crew that Captain Kirk was under great stress; though he tried, he was never good at hiding his feelings, especially in times of stress. The Captain would often times find himself so preoccupied with his duties that he would neglect all other things, including his own health. Though he gave it no thought, he had not eaten since the previous evening and instead had taken up residence in the captains’ chair; after all, if another Klingon ship was spotted, he’d want to be there for his crew.
“Captain,” muttered a voice from behind, causing Kirk to instinctively jerk with surprise, snapping out of his repetitive, relentless thoughts. As he spun the chair around he recognized the voice as having come from Spock, the Enterprise’s science officer. Kirk smiled, trying to hide his blatant stress out of politeness, but Spock’s expression did not change; As a Vulcan, Spock payed no mind to trivial concepts such as politeness.
“Mister Spock,” Said the Captain, his voice hushed from lack of sleep, “How can I help you?”
“Captain, Doctor McCoy instructed me to remind you that you have a medical examination this afternoon.”
The Captain sighed, rolling his tired eyes. Bones was a damn good doctor in that he cared deeply for his patients, but right now that was precisely the problem.
“Tell him that I’m busy,” Commanded Kirk, swiveling his chair back around to resume his staring.
“Though I respect your… Opinion on the matter, I must remind you of Regulation 121 Section A, which dictates that-”
Kirk sighed heavily.
“The chief medical officer has the final say. I know, I know…”
Though the Captain typically valued Starfleet protocol, which brought order to the unruly depths of space, this was one of the many occasions in which he cursed it.
“Taking said regulation into consideration,” Spock noted, “It would be in your best interest to report to sick bay immediately.”
Kirk shot a glare at the Vulcan, who did not respond. Finally giving in, the Captain stood for the first time in over a day.
“Mister Spock,” He commanded, “You’ll be in command for the span of my absence. You are to alert me at the first sign of Klingon activity, no matter how small; we can’t risk another attack.”
“Yes, sir,” responded the Vulcan, taking his place upon the captains’ chair. Kirk sighed once again before making his way to the turbolift.
~~~
“Took ya long enough,” Bones’s voice echoed across the empty sick bay.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” joked the captain, shocked by the lack of activity; typically the sick bay was bustling, even on a day with no conflict.
“I’m guessin’ everyone’s too busy worryin’ about Klingons and whatnot to worry about their wounds.”
Bones looked up, examining the Captain.
“…Or their lack of sleep.”
“Look Bones, I’m really not in the mood to sit through one of your lectures,” warned the Captain, “Three meals a day, eight glasses of water, and eight hours of sleep; I’ve heard it all before.”
“You’ve heard it, but you haven’t applied it.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” suggested the Captain, taking a seat on the examination table, “I’ve got a starship to run.”
“And I’ve got a captain to keep healthy.”
Bones motioned for Kirk to lie down on the table, and he reluctantly obeyed. Despite the blinding fluorescent lights above him, the simple act of lying down was more restful than anything he had experienced in days.
“Alright,” Announced the medical officer, “I think we aught to start with your lungs.”
“What?” Asked the Captain, “Do you not think I can breathe?”
Bones merely ignored the Captain’s comment and reached for a medical tricorder.
“Now, when I put my hand on your ribs, I want you to breathe real deep, okay?”
As Bones placed his hand upon Kirk, the Captain’s chest began to quiver slightly. Kirk jerked a bit, startling the doctor.
“Something wrong, Jim?” he asked the blushing Captain.
“Er- no, I’m fine,” He mustered.
The second Bones’s hand touched back down on his ribs he found himself smiling.
“Oh!”
Bones’s usually-serious expression changed to one of great mischief.
“I see what the problem is.”
Kirk raised a brow, staring at Bones.
“I-is something wrong with me?” He asked.
“Oh yes,” said Bones, feigning concern, “You’ve got something wrong, all right. I’m going to need a much more… specialized analysis.”
“What is it?” Demanded the Captain.
“Hmmm…. Can’t say for sure yet. But after a few tests, I think we’ll have our answer.”
Bones reached down and squeezed the Captain’s belly, making him giggle, much to his embarrassment.
“H-hey!” he cried, “Cuhuhut that ouhuhut!”
“Shhh,” Silenced the doctor, “We’ve still got more tests to run. Let’s see here…”
Bones lifted the reluctant Captain’s arm.
“W-what’re you checking?”
“Yer armpit,” He said nonchalantly as he poked the sensitive skin of Captain Kirk’s underarm.
“Aiiehehe!”
The captain squirmed in a futile attempt to free himself from Bones.
“Ah!” Cried the doctor, “I think I’ve found my diagnosis.”
“What is it, Bones? Spit it out!”
Bones grinned widely.
“You’re in need of a good laugh.”
And with that, Bones’s rough fingers began to wriggle all over the Captain’s poor, ticklish belly, leaving not a single square inch unassaulted.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! BOHOHOHOHONES STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Begged the Captain, “THAHAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!”
“What was that, Jim?” He asked, paying no mind to Kirk’s pleas, “I can’t hear you over all your laughing.”
Bones’s fingers began to dance up-and-down the Captain’s ribs, causing him to shriek with laughter.
“NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE!”
Bones shrugged and forced his hands into the Captain’s underarms, scribbling his fingers all around.
“Here, then?”
“AIIIIIEHEHEHHEHEHEE!”
~~~
The strange sound of laughter echoing from within the sick bay had not gone unnoticed. Two young ensigns, a young Tellarite and his Andorian friend, couldn’t help but observe the strange phenomenon occurring inside.
“What’s Doctor McCoy doing to him?” Asked the Tellarite, a mixture of concern and curiosity upon his face, “He’s laughing, but I don’t see what’s so funny.”
The Andorian did not respond, but merely observed as the doctor’s fingers fluttered around on the Captain’s belly, causing him to laugh hysterically. Surely it was some sort of strange, human medicine that he failed to learn about in Starfleet Academy.
Before he could contemplate further, the Tellarite’s curiosity had overtaken him, as the Andorian’s slim belly was attacked by the Tellarite’s wiggling, scribbling fingers. The sensation felt like tiny jolts of energy that he simply could not explain.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” cackled the Andorian as he helplessly squirmed, “WHAHAHAHAT IS THIHIHIHIHIS?!”
He immediately forced his hands into the Tellarite’s armpits, wiggling his fingers in a similar pattern. The Tellarite squealed with laughter, clenching his armpits as he jerked from side to side.
“OOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! I DOHOHOHOHON’T KNOHOHOHOHOHOW!”
The Andorian’s blue face had became tinted with red from laughing as the two continued their assault on each other.
“THIHIHIHIHIS IS FUHUHUHUHUN!” Proclaimed the Tellarite.
The Enterprise crew couldn’t help but feel as though some sort of tension had been lifted from the ship as a vague laughter seemed to echo through their ears for the rest of the evening.
It was obvious to the crew that Captain Kirk was under great stress; though he tried, he was never good at hiding his feelings, especially in times of stress. The Captain would often times find himself so preoccupied with his duties that he would neglect all other things, including his own health. Though he gave it no thought, he had not eaten since the previous evening and instead had taken up residence in the captains’ chair; after all, if another Klingon ship was spotted, he’d want to be there for his crew.
“Captain,” muttered a voice from behind, causing Kirk to instinctively jerk with surprise, snapping out of his repetitive, relentless thoughts. As he spun the chair around he recognized the voice as having come from Spock, the Enterprise’s science officer. Kirk smiled, trying to hide his blatant stress out of politeness, but Spock’s expression did not change; As a Vulcan, Spock payed no mind to trivial concepts such as politeness.
“Mister Spock,” Said the Captain, his voice hushed from lack of sleep, “How can I help you?”
“Captain, Doctor McCoy instructed me to remind you that you have a medical examination this afternoon.”
The Captain sighed, rolling his tired eyes. Bones was a damn good doctor in that he cared deeply for his patients, but right now that was precisely the problem.
“Tell him that I’m busy,” Commanded Kirk, swiveling his chair back around to resume his staring.
“Though I respect your… Opinion on the matter, I must remind you of Regulation 121 Section A, which dictates that-”
Kirk sighed heavily.
“The chief medical officer has the final say. I know, I know…”
Though the Captain typically valued Starfleet protocol, which brought order to the unruly depths of space, this was one of the many occasions in which he cursed it.
“Taking said regulation into consideration,” Spock noted, “It would be in your best interest to report to sick bay immediately.”
Kirk shot a glare at the Vulcan, who did not respond. Finally giving in, the Captain stood for the first time in over a day.
“Mister Spock,” He commanded, “You’ll be in command for the span of my absence. You are to alert me at the first sign of Klingon activity, no matter how small; we can’t risk another attack.”
“Yes, sir,” responded the Vulcan, taking his place upon the captains’ chair. Kirk sighed once again before making his way to the turbolift.
~~~
“Took ya long enough,” Bones’s voice echoed across the empty sick bay.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” joked the captain, shocked by the lack of activity; typically the sick bay was bustling, even on a day with no conflict.
“I’m guessin’ everyone’s too busy worryin’ about Klingons and whatnot to worry about their wounds.”
Bones looked up, examining the Captain.
“…Or their lack of sleep.”
“Look Bones, I’m really not in the mood to sit through one of your lectures,” warned the Captain, “Three meals a day, eight glasses of water, and eight hours of sleep; I’ve heard it all before.”
“You’ve heard it, but you haven’t applied it.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” suggested the Captain, taking a seat on the examination table, “I’ve got a starship to run.”
“And I’ve got a captain to keep healthy.”
Bones motioned for Kirk to lie down on the table, and he reluctantly obeyed. Despite the blinding fluorescent lights above him, the simple act of lying down was more restful than anything he had experienced in days.
“Alright,” Announced the medical officer, “I think we aught to start with your lungs.”
“What?” Asked the Captain, “Do you not think I can breathe?”
Bones merely ignored the Captain’s comment and reached for a medical tricorder.
“Now, when I put my hand on your ribs, I want you to breathe real deep, okay?”
As Bones placed his hand upon Kirk, the Captain’s chest began to quiver slightly. Kirk jerked a bit, startling the doctor.
“Something wrong, Jim?” he asked the blushing Captain.
“Er- no, I’m fine,” He mustered.
The second Bones’s hand touched back down on his ribs he found himself smiling.
“Oh!”
Bones’s usually-serious expression changed to one of great mischief.
“I see what the problem is.”
Kirk raised a brow, staring at Bones.
“I-is something wrong with me?” He asked.
“Oh yes,” said Bones, feigning concern, “You’ve got something wrong, all right. I’m going to need a much more… specialized analysis.”
“What is it?” Demanded the Captain.
“Hmmm…. Can’t say for sure yet. But after a few tests, I think we’ll have our answer.”
Bones reached down and squeezed the Captain’s belly, making him giggle, much to his embarrassment.
“H-hey!” he cried, “Cuhuhut that ouhuhut!”
“Shhh,” Silenced the doctor, “We’ve still got more tests to run. Let’s see here…”
Bones lifted the reluctant Captain’s arm.
“W-what’re you checking?”
“Yer armpit,” He said nonchalantly as he poked the sensitive skin of Captain Kirk’s underarm.
“Aiiehehe!”
The captain squirmed in a futile attempt to free himself from Bones.
“Ah!” Cried the doctor, “I think I’ve found my diagnosis.”
“What is it, Bones? Spit it out!”
Bones grinned widely.
“You’re in need of a good laugh.”
And with that, Bones’s rough fingers began to wriggle all over the Captain’s poor, ticklish belly, leaving not a single square inch unassaulted.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! BOHOHOHOHONES STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Begged the Captain, “THAHAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!”
“What was that, Jim?” He asked, paying no mind to Kirk’s pleas, “I can’t hear you over all your laughing.”
Bones’s fingers began to dance up-and-down the Captain’s ribs, causing him to shriek with laughter.
“NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE!”
Bones shrugged and forced his hands into the Captain’s underarms, scribbling his fingers all around.
“Here, then?”
“AIIIIIEHEHEHHEHEHEE!”
~~~
The strange sound of laughter echoing from within the sick bay had not gone unnoticed. Two young ensigns, a young Tellarite and his Andorian friend, couldn’t help but observe the strange phenomenon occurring inside.
“What’s Doctor McCoy doing to him?” Asked the Tellarite, a mixture of concern and curiosity upon his face, “He’s laughing, but I don’t see what’s so funny.”
The Andorian did not respond, but merely observed as the doctor’s fingers fluttered around on the Captain’s belly, causing him to laugh hysterically. Surely it was some sort of strange, human medicine that he failed to learn about in Starfleet Academy.
Before he could contemplate further, the Tellarite’s curiosity had overtaken him, as the Andorian’s slim belly was attacked by the Tellarite’s wiggling, scribbling fingers. The sensation felt like tiny jolts of energy that he simply could not explain.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” cackled the Andorian as he helplessly squirmed, “WHAHAHAHAT IS THIHIHIHIHIS?!”
He immediately forced his hands into the Tellarite’s armpits, wiggling his fingers in a similar pattern. The Tellarite squealed with laughter, clenching his armpits as he jerked from side to side.
“OOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! I DOHOHOHOHON’T KNOHOHOHOHOHOW!”
The Andorian’s blue face had became tinted with red from laughing as the two continued their assault on each other.
“THIHIHIHIHIS IS FUHUHUHUHUN!” Proclaimed the Tellarite.
The Enterprise crew couldn’t help but feel as though some sort of tension had been lifted from the ship as a vague laughter seemed to echo through their ears for the rest of the evening.
