Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: Sat, 17 Jan 2004 11:20:34 -0600 In: alt.startrek.creative From: "PineTrees" P1neTrees at Yahoo dot Com Title: Queer Eye for the Straight Captain Author: PineTrees Contact: P1neTrees at Yahoo dot Com Series: TOS Part: 1/1 Rating: R Codes: K,S,M,C Archive: ASC Summary: Kirk gets a little lifestyle advice from a friend. Many thanks to Queer Eye for the Straight Captain ---------------------------------------------------- The Vulcan strode purposefully into the spartan quarters and came to a complete stop in the middle. He was without insignia, dressed completely in black, wearing just the uniform pants, boots, and t-shirt. He had a small, tasteful jadestone earring on his left ear. His little minion, Pavel Chekov, scurried in after him. He was dressed identically, except he did not have an earring, and was wearing dark wire rimmed sunglasses. Hands on his hips, Spock looked around disdainfully. "Hmmm, decorating style is Modern Brig..." He moved over to the dresser and pulled out one of the drawers. "Clothing...atrocious." Chekov peered over to look, and sniffed his agreement. Spock turned to Chekov. "Our mission is clear, Ensign. This man desperately needs our help." The man in question walked through the door an instant later, talking over his shoulder. "Now, Bones, I'm sure they just want to discuss ship's business..." Pulling up abruptly, he stopped just short of where Spock was standing and gazed at his friend with obvious warmth. "Ah, Mr. Spock, you're here already." He nodded politely to Chekov. Spock acknowledged the captain, then he and Chekov turned and glared at the doctor. "Can we help you, Doctor McCoy?" Spock said, clearly meaning, "Go away, Doctor." "No, don't mind me, I'm just here for the show." McCoy gave them both a big smile and sprawled down on one of the chairs in Kirk's office, obviously settled in for the duration. "What did you want to talk about, Spock?" Kirk asked. Spock turned to him. "You, Captain. We need to talk about you." --------------------- WARDROBE "Look at this, Jim," Spock said, grabbing Kirk's chin and pulling his head towards the too-tiny mirror. "Fair skin, light-ish brown hair, hazel eyes. You are definitely an Autumn. Red looks good on you, as does green or almost any warm color. But you must - absolutely must - avoid golds, yellows, or anything remotely resembling beige. Those colors are disastrous for you. They don't do anything for your natural coloring, and could actually make you look, well, puffy." "I had no idea..." Kirk whispered, horrified. "And you must have ten sets of completely identical clothing here," Spock added. "Black pants, gold shirt. Shop much?" Kirk opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but Spock cut him off. "Not only is the color wrong for you, as we've already discussed, but the total lack of variety makes you seem unimaginative. Like you grew up on a farm somewhere and never learned to dress in anything beyond jeans and t-shirts." Kirk shifted uncomfortably. "Ah," Chekov nodded perceptively. "Never had to dress well to impress the sheep, eh, Keptin?" Kirk whirled and cut him off at the knees with a withering glare. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with soon-to-be Crewman 3rd Chekov?" When Chekov was cowering to his satisfaction, Kirk turned his attention back to Spock. "So how do you know so much about clothes, anyway, Spock?" "I've always had an aptitude," Spock replied, a bit smugly. "Father even wanted me to attend the Vulcan Fashion Academy." "Oh." "But I knew my place was here, at your side. Providing Lifestyle Consulting services to the brave crew of the USS Enterprise, while you Boldly Go." This was news to Kirk. "But how do you find time for that and your other duties, too?" "I programmed the Franklin Covey Day Planner module into my tricorder years ago, Captain." Putting a hand on his shoulder and gently pulling him over to the dresser, Spock continued. "Remember, Jim. You should keep track of what you wear, plan out your wardrobe in advance, and never, ever, repeat the same combination twice in one month." Kirk thought about that. There were three approved captain's tunics that he was aware of - the gold pullover one that he usually wore, and two green wrap around style shirts that were very similar to each other. Even if he counted his dress uniform, that only made four. "That could be a problem," he replied to Spock. "You are a man of substantial ingenuity," Spock replied. "Surely you can think of something?" "Well..." Kirk suddenly snapped his fingers. "They did have an interesting vest uniform on the ISS Enterprise, in the mirror universe!" he said excitedly. Then he smiled, a very self-satisfied little expression, and his eyes got a faraway look. "Uhura thought I looked hot in it, too. I could tell, she was checking me out," he mused in a low, growly voice, apparently unaware he was still speaking out loud. "Is Lieutenant Uhura the one you're trying to impress?" Spock asked, with a veiled look in his eyes. Kirk caught himself, but too late. "I do NOT get involved with my..." McCoy lunged over and broke between Kirk and Spock before Kirk could finish the sentence. He grabbed Kirk by the shoulders and stared hard at him. "Say Yes, Jim. For God's sake, man, say YES!" He jerked his eyes to the right a few times, towards where Spock stood, clearly trying to send the captain a message. Kirk was not receiving. From behind furrowed brows, he asked, "What's wrong with you, Bones?" McCoy sighed. "Nothing, Jim. Nothing at all." ---------------------- CULTURE "Captain, the problem is, you're a workaholic. That doesn't leave you much time to appreciate the finer things in life. Our goal here is to broaden your horizons somewhat. You don't want to be just a Starship Captain, do you?" "Well, Spock, actually I..." "Of course not. It's a challenging job, Jim, but that's no excuse to let yourself become one-dimensional. Now, let's look at a typical 'date' for you, as it were. Since you don't date anyone on board, that would have to be..." "Last time we were at Starbase 11 for re-supply. Areel Shaw." "Of course," Spock snapped his fingers. "The lovely and intelligent Ms. Shaw. I remember her. What did you do on your date?" Kirk paused to remember, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see...we had dinner on the base..." He smiled, remembering. "Wine, candles, soft music, the whole nine yards. She is an absolutely charming companion, did you know that, Spock? Anyway, after dinner I brought her back to the ship and took her to the Observation Deck for a while, and then we came back here." "What did you do here?" Spock asked, genuinely curious. Kirk paused for a beat, then said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Chess, Spock. We, uh, played chess." There was a commotion from the desk as McCoy looked for something to clean up the Saurian Brandy he had just snorted out of his nose. Spock froze. "Captain, I was under the impression that I was your chess partner." "Well, you're usually my partner, Spock, but sometimes I have other partners as well..." "I see," Spock said tightly. He turned away from Kirk, apparently examining the painting on the wall, his hands clasped behind his back. "Is she a better player than I am?" "No! No, Spock, of course not..." "Perhaps she's a more stimulating conversationalist, then." "No, Spock, nobody's a more stimulating conversationalist than you." A loud comment came from the office area. "The recording that reads the comm frequency charts for Uhura is a more stimulating conversationalist than you, Spock." Kirk shot McCoy a dirty look. "You're not helping here, Bones." Spock continued. "Well, she must be, as you say, Jim, a very charming companion. When she's not busy trying to ruin your career and put you in jail, of course." "Spock..." Spock turned to leave. "If you'll excuse me, Captain, I must re-calibrate the science station computer." He paused, and then looked back at Kirk. "Unless you'd like Ms. Shaw to take care of that as well." Kirk quickly stepped between Spock and the door. "Spock, please. You haven't finished your consultation yet, have you?" He flashed him his most persuasive, charming smile. "And I really need your help. I can't do it without you." He put an arm on Spock's shoulder and smoothly drew him back into the room. "Come on, Spock, what else do I need to work on?" Spock regarded him for a moment, then moved towards the replicator, apparently mollified. -------------------- FOOD "Let's see what we have programmed here, Captain," Spock said, moving past McCoy to push the button that opened the door to the replicator. "Wait!" Kirk yelled, practically diving between Spock and the replicator. McCoy was in his way, however, and he was too late. The door slid opened, and a cascade of Snickers bars poured out of it, raining down from the replicator to spill onto the table. "Well, well, well, doesn't this explain everything," McCoy said, glaring at the captain. Spock was confused. "I didn't even access the programming yet, Jim," he said. "I just opened the door. How did all that candy get there?" "That's where he keeps his stash, Spock," McCoy answered. "He knew that's the last place I'd look." He was still glaring at Kirk. Spock turned to the captain. "Jim. Really. Snickers? Couldn't you at least try Godiva or something somewhat tasteful?" "That's really not gonna be an issue, Spock," McCoy said, gathering up all the chocolate bars and throwing them in the disposal chute. "Jim, we've been over this a dozen times. Why do you insist on cheating on your diet?" "I do NOT cheat on..." Spock pulled up the history file of the replicator. "Let's see...Biggie Size chicken sandwich and fries for lunch...Wheaties for breakfast...five cups of coffee...chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream at midnight...steak and potatoes for dinner last night...hmmm." Chekov was confused. "But Sulu told me you ate Klingons for breakfast..." Kirk shot him a look. "No, just uppity ensigns." Spock finished examining the file and turned back to the captain. "Jim, have you ever considered vegetarianism?" "Spock, have you ever considered carnivorism?" Spock shuddered, repulsed at the idea. "No." "Well, I'm ahead of you there, Mr. Spock. Now, then, since I've eaten salads before, but you've never..." McCoy interrupted "And you're going to be eating them for the rest of this mission, Jim," he said, matter-of-factly. Kirk just looked at him, then addressed Spock again. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation later..." "No need, Jim," McCoy said. "Spock, the captain will soon be just as cultured with his meals as you are with yours. I'm going to make it easy on myself this time. Jim, I'm confiscating your diet card and replacing it with a duplicate of Spock's." "What?!?" "Lose ten pounds, and you can have your old one back." McCoy looked very pleased with himself. "I don't know why I didn't think of this years ago," he said, smiling. ---------------------------- INTERIOR DESIGN "This room needs a lot of work, Jim. It's bland. Totally unimaginative." "I like to think of it as efficient and functional," Kirk replied, somewhat defensively. "It has less personality than those cubicles you forced Security to move into last week, Captain." McCoy chimed in. "Apropos to nothing, Jim, why are you always so compelled to piss off large men who carry side arms?" "I am NOT compelled to..." Spock interrupted. "Okay, how about this. Why don't we hang up some of your medals and commendations in your little office area over here? You have a enough room for a respectable 'I Love Me' wall." Chekov was inspired. "Hey, maybe I should put up that 'Perfect Attendance' medal on my vall!" Kirk ignored him. "I'd rather not be too ostentatious," he said to Spock. "What else do you recommend?" Spock pondered the question. "Perhaps inspiration can be found in my own impeccably designed cabin." He exited the captain's quarters and came back a few minutes later, carrying a large box. He set it down on the floor. "These are mine, of course, but they may give you some ideas." He opened the box, and took out a large, octagonal mirror that had a circle of small white lights surrounding the inside edge. They created the illusion that the mirror had infinite depth, and that endless rows of lights went all the way to the bottom of the bottomless mirror. "This is one of my favorites," Spock said fondly. "Perfect for meditating. And available at fine Spencer Gifts everywhere." "I'm not much for meditating," Kirk said. "What else?" Spock rummaged through the box some more. "How about covering all the walls with some nice red drapes and adding colored angle lighting? Hang a few axes, and add a couple of rock statues, Jim, and you're almost there." Kirk smiled politely. "Maybe we should move on to something else." "Well, Jim, this bed is ridiculously narrow, and you don't have any bedding. How are you ever going to persuade Miz..." he paused for just a beat, then continued quickly, "...or Mister Right to bond - uh, join you here?" "Oh, I'll just have to muddle through somehow, Spock." ------------------------- GROOMING Spock and Chekov continued their relentless examination, hovering over Kirk. "Haircut, okay if a bit severe, Keptin," Chekov said. "But the cowlick absolutely must go," he added, as Spock gently brushed the errant lock of hair back from Kirk's forehead. "Too 'Opie Taylor'. Do you ever use mousse?" "Opie who, and how exactly does one use a Moose?" Kirk asked. Spock answered. "Not 'A moose', Jim. Mousse. It's a hair product. You can't overdo it unless you want to look like Duran Duran, but in your case a little bit would be very appropriate. Now, let's see what else we have here." He turned and picked up an item on the captain's dresser. It was a silver-colored oval hairbrush, without a handle. "Military style brush, natural bristle, from Trumper's. Simple, tasteful. Excellent!" he declared. He replaced the brush and went on to the next item. Opening the small jar, he peered in with a puzzled, vaguely troubled expression. Then he looked closely at Kirk's face. Then back in the jar. Then back at Kirk's face again, this time pinching a cheek and pulling him forward to peer more closely. "You have marvelous skin, and I would be willing to bet you have never had a blemish or pimple in your life, not even during adolescence." "You would win that bet, Mr. Spock" the captain replied proudly. "So why the makeup?" "Just in case." "Just in case what?" "Well, if you had this face, wouldn't you want to be prepared for any contingency?" ------------------------- "Okay, Jim, off with your shirt." "What?" Kirk certainly had no problems with taking off his shirt, but it wouldn't kill Spock to ask politely. "You heard me. Take off your shirt. We need to know what we have to work with, Captain." Kirk complied. Chekov looked stunned, and started moving in slow motion, as if he had been repeatedly slugged on the head with a frozen duck. "He's like a god," he muttered, almost drooling over the smooth, lamb-soft skin stretched over well-muscled chest and arms. Jim just shrugged, with a modest little smile. After a while, Spock cleared his throat and spoke. "This has never happened before, Jim," Spock said. "We can do absolutely nothing for you in this area. You've got every detail, even down to the depilatory. Are you sure you're on the right side of this consultation?" "I do NOT use a..." "Sure, sure. We know, 'It's some kind of genetic quirk.' We've heard it a thousand times. Go sell it to the Federation Council, Captain." --------------------------- Spock's tone softened as he addressed his friend. "Face it, Jim - you're gay." "Absolutely Flaming!" Chekov interjected. Kirk grabbed Spock by the shoulders. "Spock. In case you haven't noticed over the past several years and..." he released Spock, picked up a little black book, and quickly thumbed through it "...1,282 girls, I LIKE WOMEN!" "That's just an experimental phase you're going through, Jim. It happens to everyone before they find their true passion..." "Spock!" Despair and affection were written on Kirk's face. He shook his friend. "Spock!" he repeated. "This is not astrophysics. Tab A Goes Into Slot B!" He released his friend and tiredly sat down on his bed. "Have you tried, I mean really tried, going out with a nice girl your own age?" Spock started to speak and Kirk cut him off. "And I don't mean that silly Vulcan Ice Princess, either. If she hadn't pulled that stupid stunt, and you had actually married her, you would have died of shock the minute your penis froze off." "Captain..." Spock tried to get a word in edgewise. Kirk carried on as if no one else had spoken. "What about Chapel? You know, Christine? She likes you, she's nice, she has fantastic legs..." Jim's eyes got that faraway look, and his voice turned soft and growly again "...and I just know she'd shriek like an Allessian Love Monkey if I did her doggy style..." Eventually, Kirk noticed everyone staring at him. "Uh, not that I ever think about that sort of thing..." "Captain," said Spock, louder this time. He sighed and started over. "Jim...I am what I am." Kirk got up, took Spock's face in his hands, and locked eyes with him. Nodding towards his little black book, he said gently, "Me, too, Spock." "You know, this is far, far more than I ever wanted to know about either one of you," McCoy said, still sprawled on the chair. His feet were propped up on Kirk's desk and he was helping himself to another snifter of Saurian brandy. ----------------------- Finally, they were through, and Chekov wrapped things up. "So," he said, clapping his hands together briskly, "vhat have we accomplished here today?" Kirk turned to him with a thoughtful expression. "Let's see...I was involuntarily converted to vegetarianism, hit on by my executive officer several times, called tasteless, uncultured, and one-dimensional, and my personal stash of chocolate was raided. Oh yes, and I was the target of a tasteless innuendo about sheep." He glared at Chekov. "So can we count on you for a referral, Keptin?" Chekov asked, hopefully. "Get out! All of you! OUT!!" FINIS -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! 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