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Swear Jar

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Swear Jar


“Language,” Chris interrupted Detmer, whose console had suddenly started sparking.

“Sorry, sir,” she said, and repaired it with minimal cursing.


After what may well have been the tenth incident of near-profanity on the bridge that day, Chris felt obliged to take action.

“Language!” Chris admonished Ash, who’d just bumped his knee violently into the corner of the conn, before he could finish his expletive.

“Okay, new plan,” he said, captainly as ever. “I’m putting a swear jar on the bridge.”

“Sir, what exactly are we supposed to put in a swear jar?” Owosekun asked, though it didn’t matter to her, since Chris had never caught her swearing.

“Your soul,” Ash suggested from behind him, and Chris couldn’t keep in his snort of amusement.


Stamets was the first victim of the captain's attempt to steal his crew’s souls.

The replicator had decided to give him the finger that day and squirt some kind of glowing green goo all over him instead of letting him eat his mango in peace.


Pike cleared his throat. “Swear jar?”

Stamets turned around, goo dripping down his uniform and seeping into his skin, to give his captain a Look.

“I thought that was only on the bridge,” Nhan piped up from the captain’s table.

“Nope, it’s everywhere now,” Pike said with a scheming kind of amusement.

Stamets didn’t fail to notice that Ash Tyler stopped speaking mid-sentence as he was telling a story to Tilly and Detmer, clearing his throat and correcting himself.


The second victim, unsurprisingly enough, was Tilly.

Captain Pike had come down to engineering to talk to Stamets about something science-related and classified, and the moment they walked past was also the exact moment that Tilly dropped a container of a highly volatile liquid, and the entire thing shattered on the floor.

She let a few expletives out and looked up at Stamets and the captain, who were watching her with twin amused expressions.

“Swear jar,” Pike said, and walked away, allowing Stamets his moment of glee.


The third was, unsurprisingly, Boyce.

“What do you mean you shot yourself again, Chris?” Phil demanded as he put his captain on a biobed with a little less gentleness than one might expect. “When was the first time? Why didn’t I hear about it? What the f-”

“Swear jar,” Chris groaned as he clutched at his side, where a burn was rapidly forming.

Phil drugged him unconscious right then and there.


Una was an absolutely terrifying person at times. It was, however, unwise to mention this to her, because she had a short fuse and a lot of pent-up rage. She’d made ensigns cry many times.

At the moment, Chris was feeling threatened enough by her yelling that he might cry.

“Who in God’s name do you think you are, Ensign?! You think you can skate by in space with someone else’s work? You think the Klingons are gonna fall for that?! You ever try that again I’ll rip your spine out with my bare hands and shove it up your-”

“Swear jar!” Chris interjected.

Una turned on him.

“Sit down, shut your mouth, and let me finish, or they’ll never find your body, Christopher.”


Chris wasn’t sure how to describe the sound of the sentient tree sticking a thorn in Spock’s stomach, but it wasn’t a good one.

“Dammit,” Spock sighed, glancing down at the green blood oozing down his uniform.


“Captain, if you could let me die in peace, I’d appreciate it.”


Ash was the sixth victim.

Technically, he had a reason, because he’d been tasked with moving some malfunctioning tech to a storage deck, and suddenly a phaser decided to go off into his thigh.

He wasn’t entirely sure what language he was swearing in, but he let out a string of curses that would put some of the rowdier Klingons he knew to shame.

“Swear jar,” Chris called out to him as he passed by in the corridor.


“Swear jar!”


The replicator dinged again to remind Chris that his coffee had long since grown cold.

“Maybe I should-” Chris began, swiftly interrupted by Ash shoving him back against the mattress with a hand that was not in a safe-for-work location.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Ash thought aloud.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Chris agreed, foregoing the coffee in the name of Ash not getting up and their current situation not changing.

Ash glanced up at him from between his legs, grinning like the clever idiot he was.

“Fuck,” Chris whispered.

“Swear jar,” Ash replied, and continued on his merry way.

Miraculously, Chris never mentioned it again.