Title: You're Dead, Jim.
Author: Yami no Kaiba
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Characters: Kirk, McCoy, Little!Spock
Length: 575 words

Summary: The lesser command crew of the Enterprise perform the equivalent of a coup. Kirk blames Spock, the evil little hellion, but everyone else blames Jim.
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or the concepts of Star Trek in any of its forms.
Note: A fill for this prompt here on st_xi_kink.

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"Jim, I've decided. I'm going to kill you."

James T. Kirk, rightful Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, has heard that line or something similar come from so many people in so many different ways and situations that he's practically immune to it.

It's the manic, happy-crazed edge to his best friend's voice that sends his inner alarms all a jangling, telling him to pay the fuck attention because it's obvious that Leonard McCoy, his rightful Chief Medical Officer though current usurper of his position, means what he says.

So staying as quite as he can, he continues crawling through the bowels of his ship.

He wishes he could turn off the one-sided conversation so that he could better hear any pursuit, but Uhura's a vengeful bitch and has McCoy on the ship-wide access since they don't know exactly where he is.

"But don't worry, Jimmy-boy! That won't happen until after the others are done with you. Did you know we drew straws to figure out who gets you first? I lucked out and got last place."

Grunting, Jim twisted his body at a junction point to take him almost exactly back the way he came, just a bit more to the aft section of the ship.

"Sulu gets you first. He's dreadfully pissed about the death of his mother's potted plant, you know. And the ruin of that vintage circa 1980 pot he'd had his roses planted in. Oh, and let's not forget all that over watering in the hydroponics bay that yellowed roughly sixty percent of his tomato crop."

There's a short giggle behind him, and Kirk resists the urge to turn and glare. Because it is totally not productive to do so, even though this entire coup is really Spock's damn fault.

"After Sulu's done, Chekov gets you next. And he's not too happy about those seven security officers that are still in Sickbay, nor the drawings all over the computations he was organizing for consideration in the Hawking's Award for Advanced Mathematics and Physics that was due 5.76 hours ago. If I'm not mistaken, he was muttering something about making you redo his vector and tensor calculations."

He couldn't help but shudder, because of course it would be the littlest Ensign that would devise such a hellishly boring and tedious revenge.

"Uhura gets you after that. I really don't think I need to say more on that one."

"Pretty dumb Lady," Spock chirps happily from behind him.

"Not dumb," Kirk grits through his teeth, crawling through a heat-shunt duct that has him sweating in seconds.

An appreciative sigh behind him. Right, the little bastard loved the heat. "Pink striped panties Lady?"

A gurgled, strangled laugh in his throat, because it wasn't that funny except that it was. "I still can't believe you flipped up her skirt. On the bridge of all places."

"You wanted to know."

"I did not!" he yelps, embarrassed. Because maybe, and he was only going to admit this to himself, he had been thinking about it.

"Did to. Heard you."

"Did no—"

"Scotty gets you once Uhura's done. I couldn't really understand him all that much, but I think he's going to shove or beam a hydrospanner up your ass."

He paled at that, even as an impressed murmur came from behind him.

"So have fun while you still can, because you're dead, Jim. D-E-A-D."

He was never, ever letting Spock accept presents from aliens ever again.

--Fin.