Chapter Text
Nurse Chapel was bawling. She had soup all in her lustrous blonde hair, and it was all Janice Rand could do to not get it all over her own dress and hair, which she had worked very hard to do that morning.
"Now, can you say that again?" Janice asked, furrowing her brow as the other blonde sniffled loudly.
"H- he- S- Spock threw- he threw the soup that I made him at me," Christine bawled.
"Let me get this straight. You're crying because Commander Spock threw soup at you?"
"Y- yes! My special pon farr soup that I milked a thousand radioactive pink jellyfish for!"
"That's absurd! Also probably a breach in Starfleet conduct codes! I shall alert the captain at once!" And so Yeoman Rand stalked off fancily with her hair to go find Kirk.
"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not an exotic dancer," Dr. McCoy was saying as Janice rounded the corner into sickbay.
"Well, someone's got to replace Ms. Chapel in the show tonight, seeing as she's- oh! Yeoman! Ahem!" Kirk turned five thousand shades of red as he noticed her presence in the room. "How is it that you seem to magically locate me whenever you desire?"
"It is my abnormally large brain that I keep hidden beneath my luscious beehive hairstyle," Yeoman Rand said. "It allows me to locate you at all times. Or at least when the plot needs me to find you."
"Shh, you're not supposed to break the fourth wall," Kirk said in an obnoxiously bad stage whisper.
"Yeoman, your brain is, unfortunately, quite incapable of any psi-abilities," said Dr. McCoy.
"I was joking. Someone's got to be the dumb broad in sickbay since Christine is off sobbing about the soup in her hair."
"Very true, female, very true."
"Anyways. Spock violated Christine."
"He what?" McCoy and Kirk said in unison although neither moved or gave any other indication of shock because patriarchy.
"He threw the nice delicious bowl of soup at her when all she did was be a sexualized piece of tail in his presence."
"Must be the pon farr," Kirk said knowingly.
"The what?"
"Oh, the thing Vulcans go through every seven years that turns them into sexual maniacs."
"I have never heard of such a thing," McCoy said. "And I'm a doctor, Jim, not a-"
"How do you know so much about Spock's sexytimes?" Yeoman Rand asked suspiciously.
"Because he said it's super duper secret and that not even Vulcans talk about it with each other so naturally I was all like 'lol but dude it's me' and he was all 'lol in that case lemme tell you all about it' and so he told me all about it. Basically he has to go back to Vulcan like a spawning salmon right fuckin' now because he's turning into a bitch in heat and he'll die if he doesn't get laid."
"That makes no sense," McCoy said.
"Neither do the female uniforms," Yeoman Rand said.
"No.... They make total sense," McCoy said, raking his eyes up and down her body appreciatively.
"I hope a Kardassian tries to make out with you," Janice said.
"Those haven't been made up yet," Kirk said.
"Oops. Blame the awesome psi-brain."
"Anyways, about Commander Spock?"
"Well, it seems we have no choice but to sex Jim up," McCoy said.
"You mean sex him up. Sex him up. Right, Dr. McCoy?" Janice asked.
"No, he means both," Jim said with a salacious wiggle of his eyebrows. "Imma sex him up so hard he won't know what hit him."
"Jolly good," McCoy said, laughing at the double entendre.
"But the soup," Janice said. "What will we do about the soup?"