Okay, I'm confused, I don't know what to do, so I'm jumping in feet first, and hoping I don't hurt myself (too much). By the way, hi, I'm Mecca.
This story has a man having a crush (They don't do ANYTHING!)on another man, and if that bothers you, run. Now.
This is supposed to be humorous. If not opps.
This is rated about PG-13 for well, language, to be on the safe side. There's nothing in this that hasn't been seen on Buffy
::SPLAT:: (that was me jumping feet first.
Disclaimer: Star Trek and the Star Trek Universe belong to Paramount/Viacom. I am using them in a not-for-profit way, and I always put them back in the sandbox when I am done with them, and I don't lose anything or break anything, either. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.
Author's Notes: This is for Ztar, for calling me on a mistype (I swear it was a mistype, Ztar!) and for not stopping me. Okay? We know who's responsible. It was Ztar, okay? Ztar! Moreover, I've never written a Buffy fanfic or Star Trek one, so don't kill me…please?
Spike ran his hand down the side of his Star Fleet uniform, proud of himself for having obtained the rank of Lieutenant 'And I only had to kill a couple of people to get away with it too.' He thought self-satisfied.
"Lieutenant Summers?" He heard his assumed name called down the corridor, getting a small jolt of pleasure at the use of the long dead Slayer's name. He'd figured that him using it had Slutty the Vampire Slayer rolling over in her grave…not that there was anything left in her grave, 'cept for dust now. Been too long. Turning and snapping off a salute, a habit he'd gained from his times watching old army movies on VHS before Holograms came in.
"Commander Spock" He greeted the Vulcan.
"Greetings, Lieutenant. Congradulations are due."
"Thank you, sir."
"Off to celebrate with a drink?" Spock questioned almost…wistfully?
As he had been about to, a double of O+ that for some reason the food sythesiser had yet to have a problem with supplying him, guarenteeing Spike's vampiric anonymity, Spike hesitated. This might be his moment. He'd been fanta-considering, the possibilities of a liason with the, well, damn it all, attractive first officer. It had been a bit too long for him without a partner, and he had a feeling it had been a while for Spock too. He knew that Spock was loved on board ship, of course. He couldn't have been on board for six months without noticing, but it seemed to always be in that completely non-sexual intense way only young pseudo-intellectual girls can.
Not that, as he understood it, Spock needed to have sex, he was rumoured not to even want to have sex for seven years. Well, posh and nonsense. No man, no matter what species or race wanted to go for seven years without sex. No way. And if this was his opportunity, well, he could hardly throw it away, now could he?
"Hadn't been planning on it, sir, but if you'd like to join me…" he invited, almost hoping to be turned down, now that he'd asked. 'What kinda Vamp am I anyway?' he wondered to himself, appalled at his lack of courage. He was over four centuries old! Idly he wondered what kind of vampire Spock would make, grimacing inwardly at the imagined taste of green blood.
"Do you play chess, Lieutenant?" Jolted out of his reverie by the change of subject, Spike straightened from the positioned he'd taken lounging against the wall, and answered, voice accented in his surprise.
"Yes, sir, I do. Haven't for a while though."
Hadn't since that all night Chess game with old Rupert, what, over three centuries ago? Oh well. He missed the shrewd glance directed at him by Spock as he registered both the accent and the place of origin that it hailed from, contrasting with the place of birth given by this young, Spock licked his lips, officer.
"Well, then, may I challenge you to a game then, Lieutenant?" Spock asked, already shepherding the vampire toward Spock's rooms with a rare touch, on his elbow.
Noticing the touch and thinking that maybe his fanta- considerations, damnit! weren't as impossible as he'd thought.
Talking amiably along the way, once the door to his quarters were closed Spock was a different man. Advancing on Spike who entertained the delighted thought that this was going to be easier than he thought, Spock soon cornered the younger appearing man. "Well, Summers. You have a lot of explaining to do."
'Or maybe not.' Spike thought, his hopes sinking to his stomach.
"What do you mean, sir?" He questioned, eyes wide as possible for the best innocent look. Spock showed no signs of relenting. 'damn, doesn't work on Vulcans.' He mentally catalogued.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Summers. You're eating the ship's transfusion supply! Don't you know that there's an artificial supply that works just as well? He asked, pulling a glass out of the food synthesiser filled with red liquid. "you poor, dear, sick, perverted, twisted vamp" Spock tsked.
"I'm a poor, dear, sick perverted, twisted vamp?" Spike questioned, not willing to let the game be up. He liked Star Fleet!
"Of course, " Spock said turning back to the Food synthesiser, removing another glass. He turned around and vamped out. "Takes one to know one."
"Wha- Spock?" He shook his head, clearing it. "What the f*ck is this, waking a man up while he's drowsing, Bloody uncivil if you ask me."
"Well, one, I didn't ask you" Xander replied turning off the TV, "and two, you were yelling out Spock, and your Vulcan fantasy is none of my business and Please, oh please, keep it that way. No more Star Trek Marathons for you, young man."
...don't hurt me, please? I didn't mean to! The voices in my head made me do it! O
This story has a man having a crush (They don't do ANYTHING!)on another man, and if that bothers you, run. Now.
This is supposed to be humorous. If not opps.
This is rated about PG-13 for well, language, to be on the safe side. There's nothing in this that hasn't been seen on Buffy
::SPLAT:: (that was me jumping feet first.
Disclaimer: Star Trek and the Star Trek Universe belong to Paramount/Viacom. I am using them in a not-for-profit way, and I always put them back in the sandbox when I am done with them, and I don't lose anything or break anything, either. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network, and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.
Author's Notes: This is for Ztar, for calling me on a mistype (I swear it was a mistype, Ztar!) and for not stopping me. Okay? We know who's responsible. It was Ztar, okay? Ztar! Moreover, I've never written a Buffy fanfic or Star Trek one, so don't kill me…please?
Spike ran his hand down the side of his Star Fleet uniform, proud of himself for having obtained the rank of Lieutenant 'And I only had to kill a couple of people to get away with it too.' He thought self-satisfied.
"Lieutenant Summers?" He heard his assumed name called down the corridor, getting a small jolt of pleasure at the use of the long dead Slayer's name. He'd figured that him using it had Slutty the Vampire Slayer rolling over in her grave…not that there was anything left in her grave, 'cept for dust now. Been too long. Turning and snapping off a salute, a habit he'd gained from his times watching old army movies on VHS before Holograms came in.
"Commander Spock" He greeted the Vulcan.
"Greetings, Lieutenant. Congradulations are due."
"Thank you, sir."
"Off to celebrate with a drink?" Spock questioned almost…wistfully?
As he had been about to, a double of O+ that for some reason the food sythesiser had yet to have a problem with supplying him, guarenteeing Spike's vampiric anonymity, Spike hesitated. This might be his moment. He'd been fanta-considering, the possibilities of a liason with the, well, damn it all, attractive first officer. It had been a bit too long for him without a partner, and he had a feeling it had been a while for Spock too. He knew that Spock was loved on board ship, of course. He couldn't have been on board for six months without noticing, but it seemed to always be in that completely non-sexual intense way only young pseudo-intellectual girls can.
Not that, as he understood it, Spock needed to have sex, he was rumoured not to even want to have sex for seven years. Well, posh and nonsense. No man, no matter what species or race wanted to go for seven years without sex. No way. And if this was his opportunity, well, he could hardly throw it away, now could he?
"Hadn't been planning on it, sir, but if you'd like to join me…" he invited, almost hoping to be turned down, now that he'd asked. 'What kinda Vamp am I anyway?' he wondered to himself, appalled at his lack of courage. He was over four centuries old! Idly he wondered what kind of vampire Spock would make, grimacing inwardly at the imagined taste of green blood.
"Do you play chess, Lieutenant?" Jolted out of his reverie by the change of subject, Spike straightened from the positioned he'd taken lounging against the wall, and answered, voice accented in his surprise.
"Yes, sir, I do. Haven't for a while though."
Hadn't since that all night Chess game with old Rupert, what, over three centuries ago? Oh well. He missed the shrewd glance directed at him by Spock as he registered both the accent and the place of origin that it hailed from, contrasting with the place of birth given by this young, Spock licked his lips, officer.
"Well, then, may I challenge you to a game then, Lieutenant?" Spock asked, already shepherding the vampire toward Spock's rooms with a rare touch, on his elbow.
Noticing the touch and thinking that maybe his fanta- considerations, damnit! weren't as impossible as he'd thought.
Talking amiably along the way, once the door to his quarters were closed Spock was a different man. Advancing on Spike who entertained the delighted thought that this was going to be easier than he thought, Spock soon cornered the younger appearing man. "Well, Summers. You have a lot of explaining to do."
'Or maybe not.' Spike thought, his hopes sinking to his stomach.
"What do you mean, sir?" He questioned, eyes wide as possible for the best innocent look. Spock showed no signs of relenting. 'damn, doesn't work on Vulcans.' He mentally catalogued.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Summers. You're eating the ship's transfusion supply! Don't you know that there's an artificial supply that works just as well? He asked, pulling a glass out of the food synthesiser filled with red liquid. "you poor, dear, sick, perverted, twisted vamp" Spock tsked.
"I'm a poor, dear, sick perverted, twisted vamp?" Spike questioned, not willing to let the game be up. He liked Star Fleet!
"Of course, " Spock said turning back to the Food synthesiser, removing another glass. He turned around and vamped out. "Takes one to know one."
"Wha- Spock?" He shook his head, clearing it. "What the f*ck is this, waking a man up while he's drowsing, Bloody uncivil if you ask me."
"Well, one, I didn't ask you" Xander replied turning off the TV, "and two, you were yelling out Spock, and your Vulcan fantasy is none of my business and Please, oh please, keep it that way. No more Star Trek Marathons for you, young man."
...don't hurt me, please? I didn't mean to! The voices in my head made me do it! O
