The crew doesn’t even bat an eyelash when their guests suddenly appear on the bridge. What with Romulans from the future, alternate versions of their first officer who are either really old, really evil or both and all the bored god-like beings that pop in now and then, they are quite used to the whole visitors-from-another-reality-concept.
As soon as security has deemed the new arrivals as “they might be dangerous, but look kinda nice, and they are way too impressed by the whole starship in SPACE stuff to try anything anyway”, Jim starts grinning a lot, Spock declares the whole encounter fascinating and Leonard himself rolls his eyes. So those guys are from the past, a past where the Enterprise is only a model in a tv show, whatever. Same ship, different day.
He makes their guests come with him to sickbay to get checked out, and isn’t that a welcome variation that for once nobody’s complaining about smarting hypos, the illogicality of medical examinations when I am functioning at full capacity, Doctor, or weird rashes in the groin area for once? Gotta love the army, and the way that Colonel Smith handles his boys is to be admired. One glare from the guy shuts up any whining and their guests settle on the cots with barely a grumble. Leonard approves of this and decides to give the Colonel the least painful hypo. Though if the guy tries to light that cigar in his sickbay, he’s gonna regret it.
The big guy glares at Leonard when he comes close with his hypo, but Leonard’s not in the least bit fazed. He’s dealt with Jim Kirk drunk off his ass, Vulcans in the throes of Pon Farr and Russian whiz-kids possessed by higher beings, for God’s sake. This is nothing.
That the pilot-guy calls him Leonard and asks about his health freaks him out a little, but Leonard ignores it. Old Spock did the same, and that Q-guy, he’s used to it. And the pilot, Murdock was it? certainly doesn’t seem dangerous, more... excited. Really, really excited to be here, it seems. Apparently he’s a... a fan, whatever that might mean. He starts asking about gravitation and black holes and matter-anti-matter relations and Leonard signals Chapel to call Scotty. He’s not trained for this kind of insanity.
The pretty-boy starts eyeing his nurses. Or maybe they eye him, Leonard isn’t sure, but he doesn’t like it. He’s got enough on his hands with their resident Casanova, err, Captain, he doesn’t need some random new guy putting ideas into his nurses’ heads. Speaking of which, the kid seems pretty interested in the new guy, too. Leonard watches Jim sidle up to, what’s his name, Face? Who has a name like that anyway? Whatever, Jim sits close and turns up the infamous Kirk-charm, and Leonard rolls his eyes again when the new guy flutters his eyelashes at the hand on his leg and the “I’m the Captain here, you know. You should follow my orders, I bet you’re good at that...”
Leonard’s already lifted his hand to smack some sense into the kid, but Spock’s already there. Vulcan Death Glare firmly in place as he steps between his t’hy’la and the new guy and removes the offending appendage from the leg it certainly doesn’t belong on. The new guy tries for a brave facade, but Leonard sees right through it. He grins to himself, Vulcans are scary when they are jealous. Seems like the new guy noticed that, too.
Spock pulls his impertinent lover to the side and as soon as he’s gone, the space the kid was in is occupied by the pilot, who sits really close and wraps his arms around Face. The pretty boy presses a kiss to his temple and Leonard uses the distraction to shove a hypo into his neck, while he absently tries to remember his history lessons and when DADT was repealed.
In the corner Jim and the pointy-eared bastard are involved in a heavy Vulcan make-out session, complete with fingers and palms touching and Leonard rolls his eyes at the display. Get a room, you two, why don’t you?!
The door opens and Scotty, Chekov, Sulu and Uhura arrive. Dammit, this is a sickbay, not a train station! Don’t they all have jobs to do?! Why do they always have to appear here when he’s trying to do his own job? He’s a doctor, not an entertainer! Leonard straightens to full height and opens his mouth for a rant of epic proportions – he’s very good at them, if he may say so himself. But the kid apparently interpreted his murderous expression correctly, because he starts rounding up their visitors and loitering crew members and bundles them out of sickbay. Soon Jim has ushered them all out and disappears himself with a cheeky wave. Little bastard.
Ahh, blessed silence. Chapel rolls her eyes at his relieved sigh and disappears somewhere to do whatever it is she does when he wants to be alone. But he’s not alone, is he? The Colonel is still here and watches him with an amused smile. Leonard glares back. What?
Leonard snorts. Kids.
“No matter how much you yell at them or try to make them behave, there’s always one that gets into trouble, huh? Seems like you got your hands full with your lot.”
Leonard puts his hypos away and grunts. Boy, does he ever.
“Though I must say, you handled them quite well, yours and mine. The hypos were a nice touch.”
Finally, someone who can appreciate what he’s doing. A man after his own taste, that Colonel. One that just now has earned himself a taste of Leonard’s secret stash of very good Bourbon.
A taste turns into two bottles, and boy can the Colonel, Hannibal, ha! handle his liquor. Good drinking buddy, too, with the tales of suicide missions and last-minute rescues. Leonard’s got a few of those himself. Though the stories about all the ways their kids got into trouble and Hannibal and Leonard had to come save and/or kick their asses are way more entertaining.
As is the way Hannibal keeps sliding closer and closer to him and eyes his mouth when Leonard talks. He hides a grin and lets a few drops escape when he empties his glass, the Colonel’s eyes follow his tongue as he licks them off. Gotcha...
“So...” Hannibal’s voice is rough and the end of his cigar which Leonard hasn’t let him light is chewed up pretty badly, “how do people here feel about romance between crew members? Or romance between crew members and guests, for that matter?”
Leonard scowls. “It’s a god-damn romance novel, this ship. You’ve seen the Captain and the Vulcan? Well, before they became soul mates or whatever, Spock was dating Uhura, that’s the pretty girl who was here earlier, the one with the Amazon eyes, and the kid was pretty much sleeping his way through the entire crew and every half-attractive guest we ever had on the Enterprise. Then there’s the crazy pilot and the other kid, the Russian one, who’s barely legal but apparently pretty grown-up in certain areas. Scotty is married to the engines, Chapel’s in that weird three-way relationship with our chief of security and a tentacled guy from this one planet we’ve been to, and I don’t even want to know what Gaila’s been up to since she broke up with Stonn...”
Hannibal’s chuckle stops his rambling. The Colonel lays a hand on Leonard’s knee. “Let me rephrase that. How do you feel about sex with strangers from a different reality?”
Leonard gulps. The hand on his leg is big and hard and warm, so like Sarge’s, but much more gentle. Hannibal’s blue eyes crinkle at him and suddenly that mouth he’s been covertly watching for the last hour, wrapped tight around that damn cigar, is really, really close. And then...
God, that man can kiss. Leonard blinks a lot for a few seconds. He feels dizzy, but that’s of course the Bourbon. Just the alcohol, nothing else. Damn Bourbon makes him feel so weak in the knees. He’s a grown-up, dammit, not a sixteen-year-old girl.
A hand is now resting on his neck, another rubs circles over the crease between his thigh and his groin and Hannibal smiles at him. “So?”
Leonard swallows. “Um. I feel... I feel really good about that, actually.”
Another chuckle. “Good. Why don’t you show me your quarters, then?”
Good idea. Very good idea. They’ll go there right now, as soon as the room’s stopped spinning. Damn Bourbon.
They shuffle along the corridor. Leonard’s glare keeps various crew members from commenting on the hand under his shirt or the horny Colonel attached to his neck. Damn nosy children, stupid busybodies the lot of them, always staring and commenting when all he wants is sex, and...
“Eep!” Leonard will never admit to the noise he just made when a wicked hand squeezes his ass and interrupts his internal rant. The Colonel grins against his neck and squeezes again. Where are his damn quarters anyway? The way there surely wasn’t this far yesterday? He wants his bed, he wants to get horizontal, and he really doesn’t want the Colonel to stop what he’s doing to his neck right now, because that feels...
Oh! A science lab, blessedly empty at this time of night, with tables and flat surfaces, almost as good as a bed. Perfect. He yanks the Colonel inside.
“Now, for that sex between crew members and strangers from... Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jim! Gah, my eyes!”
Jim just moans in greeting and waves lazily from where he’s bent over a table, Spock doing his Vulcan best to move both Captain and table across the floor with each snap of his hips. He’s not even breathing hard, Leonard notes distractedly – he’s more occupied with the finger ghosting across his hole and the Colonel’s muffled snickers against his neck. Damn kid, cock-blocking idiot, what’s he doing here with that Vulcan when Leonard needs this room for...
Damn pointy-eared bastard. Voice sounds just like he was sitting in the mess hall, perfectly composed. Leonard starts moving backwards and yanks the Colonel with him. Stupid kid and stupid Vulcan. Better move this elsewhere.
They try the nearest observation deck next. But there are Sulu and Chekov, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes over a blanket full of pilfered goods from the mess hall. Romantic picnic, it seems, and Leonard flees before he’ll start puking. He’s pretty sure Sulu was reciting poetry, or maybe dirty Limericks, Leonard doesn’t know or care. He’s obviously learned some Russian for his boyfriend, and while some might find that cute, Leonard is really more interested in a good, hard fuck right now. Stupid children.
And finally, finally, the door to his quarters. Leonard waves it open, Hannibal doesn’t even spare a glance at the mess on his floor and throws him onto the bed before Leonard has taken more than a step inside. Jesus, that guy is strong.
“Come on in, then.” Leonard says sardonically and Hannibal pauses from where he’s busy divesting him from his clothes as quickly as possible.
“Oh, I will, Leonard.”
He shudders – he really likes the way his name sounds with that accent. Hannibal smirks at him and returns to opening Leonard’s pants, elbows holding him down against the mattress. Leonard tries to help but his hands are slapped away. He raises his eyebrow at the Colonel. Seems this guy thinks he can be in charge of this, hm? Well, they’ll see about that.
Leonard surges up and flips the Colonel over. Suddenly Hannibal’s on his back, Leonard looms over him and presses his arms above his head. Hannibal’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he grins. “That the way you like it?”
Leonard grins back. He rolls his hips against the Colonel, cloth dragging deliciously over his dick, pressure right against Hannibal’s answering hardness. The other’s eyelashes flutter and he groans quietly. Leonard smirks. “You giving up or what?”
Hannibal’s grin turns feral. A leg wrapped around Leonard’s, a quick move he could have blocked if he wanted to, but this way’s more fun. Leonard’s thrown off, catches himself before he tumbles to the floor, a hand reaches for him, but he evades it. He’s crouching on the bed now, Hannibal opposite him in a similar posture. They smirk at each other, eyes busy roaming the other’s body, looking for weaknesses, ways to get the upper hand.
They wrestle, clothes rip under strong hands. Bruises left by gripping fingers, hands sliding on increasingly sweaty skin, laughter and groans loud in the dark room. Now one is on the bottom, the next second it’s the other. Finally they pause and grin at each other, breathing hard with effort and arousal.
Leonard lets his legs splay open slightly and wraps his hand around his dick. Hannibal’s eyes follow his movement, his own erection twitches. Leonard smirks. “So, how we gonna do this?”
Hannibal chuckles. “I’m sure we can come up with a plan...”
The next morning Leonard’s hung-over, sore and in a really bad mood. Plus they smoked quite a lot of cigars last night, after, and between, and during, so his mouth tastes like an ash-tray. His head hurts, his ass hurts, his fucking dick hurts, everything hurts. The only comfort is that Hannibal looks exactly like he feels. What a night...
Leonard winces when a bruise makes itself known and rummages through his drawer. Where the hell are his hangover hypos?! Hannibal’s grumbling and grunting behind him, the occasional pained noise telling Leonard that, yes, they were quite... athletic last night. Not that this is a bad thing, no, quite the opposite, but Leonard can’t fully appreciate the really, really great sex right now, not until he’s found his damn hypo and his head doesn’t feel as if Spock has used it as a punching bag. There they are! Thank the heavens.
He injects himself and Hannibal simultaneously and breathes a relieved sigh when the pain instantly lessens. And now he can finally open his eyes properly again. And look, what a view... one naked gorgeous Colonel on his bed, sheets pooled around his waist, barely covering a very inviting morning erection. Nice. Leonard really doesn’t mind waking up to that...
It takes some time before they both emerge from Leonard’s quarters again. They meet the others in one of the shuttle bays. Jim and Face seem to be comparing stories of past conquests and the multiple ways in which they managed to seduce the forbidden woman/man/alien/whatever, while Spock hovers threateningly at Jim’s elbow.
Only the bottom halves of Barracus and Scotty are visible from where they are squeezed underneath one of the shuttles, the occasional “fool” and “ya big oaf” a nice counterpoint to the agitated conversation between the Chekov and the two pilots. The visiting pilot’s waving his arms while he speaks, Chekov and Sulu answer just as excitedly. Leonard blinks in surprise when he notices that, depending on whom he’s talking to right now, Murdock switches between Russian and Japanese. Huh.
As they pass the trio, Hannibal reaches out a hand and squeezes Murdock’s shoulder. Instantly the pilot turns around and directs big, imploring eyes at him. “Pavel and Hikaru here said I could try one of the shuttles, and Jim already said yes, but I had to ask you, boss, please can I? Please? Fly a shuttle? I can do it, I promise, it doesn’t really have wings, but I can do it, I promise I won’t break it, please?” Hannibal chuckles and agrees with a fond look.
“Go right ahead, Captain. Show those gentlemen what a pilot from the 21th century can do.” Murdock whoops and bounces away. Hannibal smiles and ambles over towards the others, Leonard shakes his head and follows. Pilots. One as crazy as the other. Least this one’s not stabbing himself with a sword because he wants to impress a certain boy genius.
Right as they reach them, Scotty and Barracus slide out from under the shuttle. They glare at each other for a moment, then shake hands and share a nod and a grunt.
Leonard’s sure his eyes will fall out of his head soon from all the eye-rolling.
“You want to join me for a drink, lad? I got this still...” Scotty’s voice drops to a whisper.
And again with the eye-rolling, it’s not like that still is a secret.
“Can’t. Nyota said she’d show me the observation deck and all the stars...”
Two heads whip around. The pretty boy, Face, looks pleasantly surprised but faintly worried. The kid... not so much. Annoyed, rather.
“You sure this is a good idea with your fear of flying?”
“What do you mean ‘Nyota’? Spock, why does everybody get to call her that?”
“Because...” A new voice interrupts, “‘everybody’ is a gentleman and didn’t try to hit on me the moment he saw me. As for the fear of flying... I’m sure I can keep BA distracted.”
Leonard grins at Nyota. Woman knows how to make an entry. She regards Jim imperiously, nods at Leonard and smiles at Barracus who ducks his head a bit. Barracus dusts his hands off on his pants legs and offers her his arm. She lays a small hand on it, flutters her eyelashes at him and leads him away. Face’s “Way to go, Bosco!” doesn’t go unnoticed, neither does Jim’s “I thought he didn’t hit on her!”, but only the last one gets an answer.
“No. I hit on him. ”
And with that they are gone. Jim grumbles dejectedly, Face is grinning widely and Spock looks faintly amused by the whole thing. Leonard shakes his head. Goddamn romance novel.
The time until their guests leave goes by pretty quickly. Murdock gets to fly his shuttle while the others watch from the bridge. Over the comm channel they can hear the joyous shouts and singing with Face chuckling in the passenger seat. Jim allows Sulu and Murdock to play some weird game of tag with the shuttle and the Enterprise, and Leonard’s glad for artificial gravity, all these loops and swerves would make him sick otherwise. He doesn’t dare to look to the view screen, just in case, and focuses on Spock instead, who’s sitting at his station and radiating disapproval.
Hannibal’s exchanging battle stories with Jim, Chekov’s cheering his boyfriend on. Sulu blushes and sneaks looks at him while he makes the Enterprise do manoevers that are definitely against regulations. Not that the hotshot pilot – or their Captain, for that matter – cares. Goddamn teenagers.
Nyota and Barracus arrive very late, both with similar expressions of smugness and satiation. Jim glares, Spock looks amused. Nyota winks at him, Barracus hides a fistbump with his Colonel. Leonard rolls his eyes, again. Seriously, the lot of them.
In the end, Murdock wins the game of tag, Sulu lets loose an anguished “Noooooo!” and fakes his death with lots of grunting and falling from the chair. Over the channel they can hear laughs and Murdock’s cheering. Jim applauds and then captainly orders them back to the ship.
They meet in the transporter room, Murdock and Face very late and both looking flushed and sweaty. They got lost, they say, and share a grin. Leonard narrows his eyes at them. The shuttle docked almost half an hour ago. Hm. Rumpled clothes, flushed faces, tousled hair... oh. That’s why. Pilots and their ships, seriously, this is just like the time he discovered Sulu and Chekov in one of the shuttles and they said they were only running standard maintenance checks. Yeah right, standard maintenance checks his ass. Scotty never does those naked – as far as Leonard knows at least. And those two, they “got lost”. Please. He’s a doctor, not an idiot.
Then it’s goodbyes. BA and Nyota hug while Jim watches and glares. Dammit, kid, grow up already. Murdock’s talking Russian and Japanese again, Face winks at Jim and Spock glares this time, Scotty not-so-covertly presses a bottle of his still’s latest creation into Barracus’ hand.
And Hannibal and Leonard stare at each other. What is this, high school?
Leonard huffs and shoves some of his hangover-hypos at the Colonel. Hannibal takes them with a slight smile and hands Leonard a silver cylinder in return. Leonard is pleased, he’s gonna save that cigar for a special occasion. Then they nod at each other and share a grin. There, this is the way you should handle this. All grown-up, not teary eyed or unnecessary words or something. Man after his own taste.
Hannibal joins his men on the transporter pads. Leonard retreats towards his own people and watches them disappear with a last wave from Murdock. Then they are gone... Hopefully back to their own universe. But Scotty’s gotten pretty good at transporting people across universes, so Leonard’s not too worried.
Spock drags the kid away, undoubtedly towards some more of that “I’m a jealous Vulcan bastard and you’re mine and don’t you forget it” sex. Jim doesn’t really seem to mind. The others scatter too, and Leonard stands around for a moment and looks at the transporter platform.
Well, that was that. Another visit from a different reality, but no evil counterparts this time, just... friendly people. Really friendly. This one was definitely nicer than the last one. And much more... satisfying. Leonard pockets the cigar and returns to his sickbay. If Chapel wonders about his good mood or the whistling, she can damn well mind her own business. He’s a doctor, not an entertainer.
Face/Murdock-y epilogue of sorts...
... because Bones took a look at the prompt, decided he didn’t like it and proceeded to fuck up the plot line I had carefully planned out. Bastard. Anyway.
Murdock’s been a bit quiet since their... what? Jump through time and space? Beaming into a tv show? That still sounds ridiculous, and Face wouldn’t believe it if somebody told him, but he’s seen the Spock-ears and the eyebrows and he flew through SPACE and got injected with a HYPO and while he may have been able to hold his fan-girling in check while they were actually there, now that they’re back, he can freak out in the secrecy of his room and nobody will ever know. They were on the ENTERPRISE and SPOCK and KIRK were there, and they were in SPACE and Bones sure glares a lot and Uhura is FUCKING HOT and TRANSPORTERS and SCOTTY and Chekov and Sulu are TOTALLY DOING IT and he always knew that Spock and Kirk were a COUPLE and...
Encounter. Murdock’s been a bit quiet since their encounter. It’s a surprise, Face figured the pilot would be happy after having met his childhood heroes and targets of nerdy worship. Hannibal sure was smiling a lot, and even BA didn’t glare as much as usual. Then again, these two got lucky with certain members of the Enterprise’s crew – seriously, the ENTERPRISE! – and maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe not, maybe Murdock’s mood is related to something entirely different. Maybe the pilot misses the shuttle – the SHUTTLE! – or he’s got a cold or Billy ran off again. Face doesn’t care right now, he’s a man with a plan. He can’t really think about reasons for Murdock’s mood, or he’ll get side-tracked. Or lose his hard-on.
He finds Murdock out on the sundeck, flat on his stomach, flipping through a comic book. The portable CD player’s turned up to full volume and Face doesn’t have to listen for more than 10 seconds before he realizes it’s playing the Star Trek audiobook. Face allows himself a small giddy smile – he’s met these guys!!! – before he focuses on his lover. And his plan. Don’t forget the plan. Face flops down next to Murdock and turns his head towards the sun.
“Whatcha doing, buddy?”
Murdock squints at him. “Hiya, Face. Nothing, uh, reading.”
Face smiles and lays a hand on Murdock’s shoulder. He curls a strand of hair around his finger and tugs. Murdock shimmies closer and cuddles up to him. Face’s dick twitches at the proximity and he commands it to stay quiet, dammit. Not yet.
“That was pretty awesome, huh? I still can’t really believe we were there. The Enterprise and Spock and Kirk and everybody...”
“Yeah. Wish we could’ve stayed longer, see more of the ship, gotten some souvenirs...”
And the perfect opening... “I got you something.”
Murdock sits up straight immediately and grins at him. “You brought me a gift? Really? Thank you! What is it? Can I see?”
Face laughs and reaches for the inconspicuous bag he brought. “Sure, buddy. It’s only a small gift, I don’t know if you like it, but I thought maybe...”
As soon as Murdock sees what he pulls from the bag, he lets out a shout and suddenly Face finds himself flat on his back with a grinning Murdock on top. “Facey, Facey, thank you! Wow, thank you!”
Murdock’s scattering kisses all over his face, squirms excitedly against him. His dick approves of this development and throbs with need. Face internally orders it to behave and wraps his arms around his lover. Murdock’s simultaneously trying to hug him where he’s lying on the floor and clutching his gifts to his chest. An assortment of Enterprise crew uniform shirts. Six of them, two red, two blue and two gold. Engineering, Science and Command colours, and... originals. Straight from the Enterprise. The real deal.
Murdock’s still grinning, but lets Face up now. He’s inspecting the uniforms, turning the cloth this way and that, running his hands over the collar. Seems like he likes the gift. Murdock’s face is glowing and Face watches him with a smile, belly warm and full of butterflies. His man.
“I got the pants, too, and some boots. Hope they’ll fit, they had different sizes there than we do.”
“How... where... how did you get these?!”
Face shrugs. “Got them from the quartermaster. Kirk helped a bit, but he said he didn’t wanna know what we’re gonna do with them, I guess he thought we’d use them for some kinky role-play sex or something...”
Face crosses his fingers behind his back... and crosses his legs to hide his hard-on. But Murdock’s not weirded out by the thought, he only hmms thoughtfully and scratches a nail over a blue shirt. Good. So far this is going according to plan...
“What are we gonna do with them? Wear them on our next mission?”
Or maybe not.
“Um. We could. But I got them for you, well, for you and me. I thought we could have a little fun with them? Erm, while wearing them?”
Murdock tilts his head at him. “Like what? Put them on and pretend we’re on a mission to an alien planet and there’s an evil superhuman hell bent on killing us?”
Murdock doesn’t seem to get it. He’s gonna have to be a little more direct. “For example, yeah, or...”
“Or pretend we’re Spock and Kirk and Spock goes into Pon Farr and Kirk has to have sex with him so he won’t die?”
“Yeah.” Face croaks. Murdock’s looking at him, and only now Face notices the small smirk and the teasing glint. The little bastard knew the whole time what Face wanted to ask. Mission to an alien planet, yeah right. Murdock’s smirk gets wider and he lays a hand on Face’s knee. His dick starts leaking in his pants.
“Would you like to do that, Face?”
Oh God, that voice with that polite tone. And the images alone... “Yeah, I... I’d like that.” God, would he ever.
“Awesome! Let’s do it.” And before Face can do much more than groan in agreement, he’s being pulled to his feet and stumbling towards the door, hand gripped tightly by one eager pilot. Face grins and follows. He loves it when a plan comes together...
One important question remains, though.
“Hey Murdock... who’s gonna play Spock and who Kirk?”
BA’s glaring into his pancakes. Hannibal eyes him over the edge of his newspaper and hides a smirk. Should have known better than to try to drink the boss under the table. Even the big guy’s size is no match for Irish blood, after all. Plus, he’s the boss. And he may have had some help by a certain Doctor and his useful hangover-hypos. Not that he’ll ever tell anyone about those...
BA moans, Hannibal rustles the newspaper and takes a sip of coffee. Ah, finally, blessed silence. Face and Murdock were quite... enthusiastic last night. Loud, too.
Speaking of which, thuds and laughter announces the arrival of the two lovebirds. Wrapped around each other, two figures stumble into the kitchen, knock over the toaster and bang into the fridge. Hannibal lifts his newspaper higher and ignores the giggling.
“Would you like some coffee, Captain?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Commander.”
Hannibal shakes his head and takes another sip. Kids. Or rather, teenagers. Horny teenagers full of hormones and ideas of role-play sex. Teenagers.
“What happened to your eyebrows, fool?”
Hannibal bites his lips. Better stay out of this one.
“I shaved them off. Looks more Vulcan that way, dontcha think?”
“Vulcan my ass. Fools, both of you.”
At least Face and Murdock are dedicated about their, err, roles. Activities. Things.
“You know what, Murdock? I think BA’s a redshirt.”
Hannibal’s glad that the newspaper hides the smile that takes over his face at the ensuing laughter and insulted shouting. He shakes his head and focuses on the articles. Those kids.
And, obviously, Hannibal himself would wear Command gold.
PS: As for questions about who played Spock and who Kirk? I will never tell... ;-P