Title:  Honeymoon Intruder

Author:  Shoshana

Summary:  Q pays a visit to the boys

Pairings:  S/Mc     Janeway/Q, unrequited    Picard/Q, unrequited

Rating:  PG-13      profanity and sexual innuendo

Setting:  TOS; references STVII, STXI, DS9, VOY

Leonard McCoy put down his steaming cup of morning coffee and leaned

back in his chair.  “Sure was nice of Jim, giving us three days’ personal

leave and tracking down this cabin for us.”  He was bare-chested, clad 

in red boxer shorts.  The “cabin” in question was an abandoned research station on an arid planet in the Hydra system.  It had been a bit dusty when

he and Spock had arrived the previous day, but it was proving comfortable enough.  And, after the confines of a starship, agreeably private.  The closest

— and only — permanent inhabitants were the crew of the relocated research station, now twelve hundred kilometers to the southwest.  “Shame our honeymoon had to be delayed by three a half months, though.”

“If we had had a honeymoon earlier, the Captain would not have granted

us this leave,” Spock pointed out to his husband.  Hands clasped behind his back and wearing his white meditation robe, he stood at the large window, looking out on a barren vista of black rock and sand dotted with scrub vegetation.  A desert, but different than the orange and red expanses

of his home planet.  “And we have not been married a full three and a half months.  We were married one hundred point two seven days ago.”

“Sure is convenient, having my own personal computer to give me these updates.”  The doctor’s voice was indulgent with affection.  He rose and joined his mate at the window.   “So today’s our one hundredth day anniversary?  I can think of ways of celebrating.”

“I’m sure you can,” Spock murmured, drawing Leonard in for an embrace.

“There are five beds we haven’t tried out,” said Leonard.  “Though if you

want to —”

A brief, silent flash of light appeared across the room, causing them to

startle and separate.  The flash of light was followed by the instantaneous materialization of what appeared to be a Caucasian male human of

approximately forty years of age.  

“First Officer Spock and Dr. Leonard McCoy of the U.S.S. Enterprise. 

The happy newlyweds, relaxing in connubial bliss.  How touching.”  The stranger’s mocking tone was incongruous with the seeming congeniality

of his words.  He was tall, taller than Spock by eight or nine centimeters,

and wore a wine-colored uniform which was black at the shoulders.  On

his breast was a badge, the configuration of which was unfamiliar yet unmistakable — a Star Fleet insignia.  Wavy brown hair crowned a high foreheard which wrinkled in disdain.  “Actually, how pathetically sentimental.”

The visitor held no weapon and did not appear threatening, but both

Enterprise officers were regretful their phasers were down the hall in

another room.

“Who the hell are you?” Leonard demanded, taking several steps toward

the tall man.  Dangerous or not, his demeanor as well as his unexpected

arrival were damn annoying.  “Are you from the research station?  If

Chekhov bribed you to come here as some sort of practical joke, I swear

I’ll get him reassigned as an orderly for two cycles.”

“Do you always greet unexpected guests with profanity, Leonard?  Where

are your Southern manners?  I am Q, of the Q Continuum.  And no, your navigator did not send me.”

“You’re complaining about my manners?” Leonard said.  “You’re the

one who barged in here uninvited!  And how do you know our names?”

“There is no planet, or society, called the Q Continuum known to the Federation.”   Spock spoke levelly, as he and Leonard approached the

stranger.  “The uniform you wear is unfamiliar to us, yet appears to bear

a Star Fleet insignia.  And you have not yet explained how you know our names and positions.”

“Oh, I know all your positions on the Enterprise.”  The visitor smirked. 

“And of course you’ve never seen this particular Starfleet uniform — yet. 

It’s won’t be in use until the mid-twenty-fourth century.  A Captain’s

uniform of course,” he said, striking a melodramatic pose, hand upon his chest.  “Much more dashing and elegant, I must say, than the glorified tee-shirts you wear in this time period.”   

“If this overbearing exhibitionist is a sample of future Starfleet Captains,” Leonard snorted, “God help the Federation.”  

“Au contraire, Jean-Luc and Kathy and Benjamin are all much more

dignified, not to mention less bombastic and more self-controlled, than

that loose canon named James Tiberius Kirk currently commanding

the Enterprise.  Although I do wish,” Q added, “that Kathy and especially

Jean-Luc were a tad less self-controlled.”

“Who are Jean-Luc and Kathy and Benjamin?” Leonard demanded.  “Did

they send you here to harass us?”

“They are Star Fleet Captains of the future,” replied the visitor.  “The pride

of the Federation, the flower of the Fleet, the cream of the Service.  Nothing

at all like your gallivanting intergalactic playboy.”

Leonard glared at the visitor.  “Watch what you say about Jim Kirk!”  

“The term ‘intragalactic’ would be more precise,” said Spock, “since

Captain Kirk has never journeyed to another galaxy.” 

Q made a face at the correction.

“I wish to inquire,” the Vulcan continued, “about the functioning of your transporter mechanism.  I noticed that your materialization was both silent

and instantaneous.  Obviously you utilize in the future a somewhat different technology for teleportation than we do currently.”

“Oh, Spock, I have no need of your primitive technology,” Q said with a

disdainful wave of his hand.  “I am an omnipotent being.  I can manipulate matter at will.”  As Q continued to talk, Leonard crossed to the other side of the room to retrieve his medical tricorder.

“The Continuum is not a planet, we are a society of omniscient

extradimensional beings.  And I am not from your future, only the uniform

is.  The Q are immortal, preexistent entities — we were ancient when your ancestors were still amoebas slurping up the primordial soup.  So you see, Leonard,” Q said to the doctor as he returned to Spock’s side, “I am not a

lowly Star Fleet Captain.”  Glancing at the tricorder Leonard was holding,

Q waved a hand at it, as if chasing away an annoying gnat.  “Oh, go ahead

and scan me, for all the good it will do.”

The tricorder hummed softly.  “He scans as human — except his neural emanations are completely off the charts. I was afraid we had another Trelane on our hands.”  The troublemaker Trelane had not registered at all on the tricorder.

“I must agree, Leonard,” Spock said, “that his insolent attitude, as well as

his appropriation of Terran military garb, are disturbingly reminiscent of Trelane.”

“I don’t see any resemblance whatsoever to Trelane!” Q said indignantly.

“The Q are much more sophisticated at manipulating matter than that

bumbling juvenile.  Trelane and his clan are neophytes at omnipotence compared to the Continuum!”

Leonard put the tricorder on the table and rubbed his chin.  “Well, I

suppose he could be what he says he is.”

“Don’t believe me?  I can prove it easily enough.” 

A momentary flash of light enveloped the Enterprise officers.  Spock now stood bare-chested in red boxer shorts.  Leonard wore a white robe.

Their clothing was not the only thing that had changed.

Profanities poured from Leonard’s mouth as he groped first at his ears,

then at his eyebrows.  Spock calmly examined his own fingernails, which were now tinged pink rather than green.  “Fascinating.”

“Spock, you actually make a tolerably attractive Human.”  Q crossed his arms

and leaned against the wall, observing his handiwork.  “But Leonard, you really don’t cut it as a Vulcan.”  Leonard’s face was displaying a series of contortions which had not been seen on a Vulcan face since the time of the Awakening.  “Those blue eyes just don’t work on a Vulcan.  And your language!”  Q shook his head disapprovingly.  “Surak would be appalled!”

“Blast Surak!  And blast you!  Give me back my normal body!”  

“I would have thought you found Vulcan physiognomy attractive.”

“I like peaches and tribbles and mint juleps and nurses who don’t presume

to act like doctors, but I sure as hell don’t want to be any of those things!”

Leonard pulled at his short bangs with irritation.  “Switch Spock and me

back, dammit!  Now!”

“You really need to learn to be more respectful of your superiors, Leonard.   Jean-Luc would never tolerate all the back talk you give your own Captain.”

“Blast Jean-Luc, too!”

“You do realize,” Q said in a threatening tone, “that if your manners don’t improve, I can easily arrange for you to become something rather less . . . humanoid . . . than a Vulcan?”  He turned to the bare-chested Human. 

“Take your pick, Spock.  You don’t drink alcohol.  Would you like to cuddle up to a cute little alien nurse?  Or a tribble, perhaps?  Or would you rather nibble a sweet Georgia peach?”

Spock did not care for the prospect of being married to a sentient being

of unknown species and sex any more than he cared to be married to an insentient furry fruit or a semi-sentient furry animal.  Struggling to retain control of his unfamiliar human physiology, he outwardly managed to hide

his alarm.  “I assure you, I prefer none of those options,” he said, calmly enough.  “I would prefer that Leonard and myself were returned to our

normal selves.  Immediately.”

Q sat on the table and swung his legs.  “I’ll change the two of you back

after you both explain to me what you see in the other.  Or saw in each

other, I suppose I should say.”

“You claim to be omniscient.  Why do you bother to ask?” Spock inquired.

“I want to hear what you have to say for yourselves.  The psychology

of mortal beings interests me.  Your people — I suppose I should say

your former people — are an improvement — a very slight improvement —

over the pathetic and barbaric species known as  Homo sapiens.  Vulcans —”

“Hold on there! What do —”

“Stop interrupting, Leonard,” Q said, “or I’ll change you into a peach.  A

very silent peach.”  Leonard closed his mouth and glared.  “Vulcans are mortal and limited — ”  In frustration the silenced but green-flushed

Vulcan hit the talgonite wall, and unaccustomed to Vulcan strength,

punched a hole straight through it.  He and Spock stared at the hole and examined Leonard’s uninjured hand, as Q continued, unperturbed,

“— very primitive compared of course to the Continuum, but they have at least attempted to master their base emotions, including their propensity for violence.  This one excepted,” Q added, gesturing toward the white-robed figure.  “Of course, he hasn’t had much practice being a Vulcan.”

“Your personal opinion of the Terran and Vulcan races is not of concern to me,” said Spock.  “The transformation you have performed on me and on

my husband is.”

Elbow on his thigh, Q rested his chin in his hand. “Tell me something, Spock.  I can understand having the hots for one of these human creatures.  Kathy is  — was? — or is it will be? — quite attractive, and Jean-Luc is — well, never mind about Jean-Luc.  But marry one of them?  Bond permanently?  How could you lower yourself in such a manner?  What on Earth, or Vulcan, were you thinking?”

“My mother was Human.”  Spock still possessed, if not his Vulcan body,

the surpassingly frosty politeness of an affronted Vulcan.  “I do not consider marrying Leonard to be ‘lowering myself.’”  

Leonard look gratified.

“Yes, I realize you are a hybrid,” Q said.  “Still — your new husband eats meat, ingests alcohol, complains constantly, and insults you semi-constantly.

The two of you are so different.”

“Vulcan philosophy, as you presumably know,” Spock replied stiffly,

“highly values diversity.  I prefer to think Leonard and I complement each other.”  Spock had broken a sweat on his brow.  The former Vulcan was

uncomfortable discussing his feelings, especially around strangers, but

he would force himself to do so, more for his mate’s sake  than his own.  “Leonard is loyal and intelligent.  He is caring and compassionate.  He is

a dedicated physician and a gifted research scientist.  His intuition and emotionality force me to confront the occasional limitations of pure logic.  

His criticisms of me are a form of affectionate teasing, and are intended

to force me to deal with the human aspects of my psychology.” 

“In the normal course of things, he’ll die long before you do.”

 “There are no guarantees in life . . . much less in our chosen careers.”

“Tell me the truth.  You think he’s hot.”

Spock paused.  Leonard bit down a smile, recognizing the subtle change

in his husband’s human-but-still-familiar features.  “It is true that

Leonard is irascible.  In light of the provocation you have provided, it is understandable that he is currently demonstrating his innate emotional excitability, especially since he is untrained in the mental disciplines which can mediate the naturally volatile emotional responses of Vulcan physiology.”

“Hmphff!” snorted Q.  “That wasn’t quite what I meant.”

“No?” asked Spock innocently, raising an eyebrow.  Leonard was grinning.

“Oh, never mind.  Your turn, Leonard.”

The doctor stood with his arms obstinately crossed.  “Why did you pick me

and Spock for this asinine interrogation?”

“Even with our omniscience, the Q have not solved that enduring mystery

of the universe, the force that makes the worlds go round.  And no Spock,”

Q said, “I do not mean gravity.”  Q placed his right hand on his chest.  “I speak of love.  I suppose I’m a silly, old-fashioned romantic at heart.  I just want to know if there’s any hope in the multiverse for a relationship based on mad, passionate physical attraction between two men of different species, disparate life expectancies and very dissimilar temperaments.”

“If this Jean-Luc’s got the good sense God gave a housefly,” Leonard

said dryly, “there won’t be.”

“Shut up,” Q snapped.  “You don’t even know Jean-Luc.  Not yet, anyway.  You and Spock and that pretty boy Captain of yours will all eventually have the honor of meeting him, although separately.  In fact, Leonard, you’ll meet

Jean-Luc the same day I will.”

“I’ll make sure to give you a wide berth.”

“We’re not scheduled to bump into each other,” Q said.  “I’ve answered your

question, Leonard.  Answer mine.”

Leonard glanced over at his mate, and his expression softened.  “Spock’s

loyal and brave and  reliable.  He’s damn smart, and handy to have around

in a pinch.  His logic keeps me on my toes.  I enjoy his sense of humor — most of the time, anyhow,” he added with a smile. “He makes a pretty good cup of tea.  And he’s a helluva lot less annoying than you are, Q.”

“He’s going to beat you ninety-seven point eight percent of the time in chess, and fifty-five point two four percent of the time in poker.”

“That often in poker?”  Leonard looked surprised.  “Guess I’ll make sure

to add a lot of extra wild cards.  And I’ll take a handicap in chess.”

“There’s that pon farr he goes through every seven years.”

Leonard shrugged. “We’ll manage.”

“He isn’t emotionally demonstrative.  Surely you must miss that.”

Leonard slanted a sly, sidelong look at his mate.  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,”

he drawled.   “Spock’s plenty affectionate.”

“Ah-ha!  I knew it!  You think he’s hot in bed!”

Leonard crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.  “Not at all.”  A

smile tugged at his mouth.  “Actually, Spock’s the one always hogging

the blankets.  Vulcan body temperature is several degrees lower than a human’s.”

“Four point two degrees Centigrade lower, to be precise,” the former

Vulcan said.

“Obviously,” said Q, “the two of you at least share a talent for evasive answers.”

“You got your answers,” Leonard said.  “Change us back.”

“Think what you’re giving up,” Q said.  “Vulcan strength.  Vulcan intelligence.  Vulcan longevity.”

Leonard went very still for a moment.  When he spoke, he looked not

at Q, but at Spock.     

“No.  As a physician, I’ve seen more than enough death, already.  Outlive

my husband, and all my friends?  My daughter, and her children after her?”  He shook his head.  “I hope I live a long and happy and healthy life — with

Spock —  but a human’s life.”  He returned his  gaze to Q.  “Change us back.”  The words were a simple request, spoken neither pleadingly nor belligerently.  

“All right,” Q said.  “Since the two of you, along with your Captain and

the rest of the crew of the Enterprise, are going to be instrumental in saving Earth, the Federation, the galaxy or the universe several times over, I suppose I really ought to change you back.”

Two simultaneous flashes of light occurred.  Leonard and Spock were returned to their normal appearance.

Leonard picked up the medical tricorder.   

“You don’t trust me?”  Q sounded hurt.

“Hell, no.”  Leonard scanned first Spock, then himself.  “Looks like we’re both back to normal.”

“Before I leave, I think I’ll give each of you your own wedding gift,”

Q said.  “Some counsel, from one older and wiser than yourselves.”

“Forget it!” Leonard said, shaking his head.  “I’ll pass on advice from

you, Q.”

“Your loss, Doctor,” the visitor said.  “What about you, Mr. Spock?”

“I harbor serious reservations regarding the trustworthiness of any advice

you might provide,” Spock said.  “I will listen, but in the words of the old Earth adage, I will ‘take it with a grain of salt.’”

“A heaping spoonful, you mean,” his mate grumbled.

Q threw a warning glance at Leonard.  “Watch the sarcasm, Leonard.” 

He turned back to Spock.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to turn him into

a sehlat?  It would improve his disposition.”

“I am certain.”

“All right.”  Q’s face became grim, devoid of mockery.  “When the time comes, Spock, for you to save the planet Romulus, I suggest you act swiftly.  If you delay, many people with die, including someone important to you. 

Not to mention you’ll create a rather . . . fascinating . . . temporal paradox.”

“Spock got over that Romulan Commander a long time ago!”  Leonard

objected. 

“Oh, a tad jealous, are we?” said Q.  “I really don’t know how your husband

puts up with all your human emotion.  However, if it makes you happy, Leonard, I was not referring to the Romulan Commander.”

“You don’t mean Jim, do you?” Leonard asked, now alarmed. “Or me?”

“No, neither of you,” Q replied.  “Although I am afraid, my dear Doctor,

that just moments ago you turned down some information that might possibly have saved your friend James Kirk from the unfortunate fate that does await him in the future.”

“What do you mean?” Leonard demanded, his alarm growing.  “What happens to Jim?”

“Additional information would be desirable,” Spock said.  “I have no wish

to witness the destruction of a planet, even if its inhabitants are engaged in

an antagonistic relationship with the Federation.  Could you elaborate on

the circumstances of my ‘saving’ Romulus, as well as those pertaining to

Captain Kirk’s ‘unfortunate’ fate?”

“I could, but I won’t,” the visitor said.  He sighed.  “I’m afraid that’s all the help you blundering mortals are going to get from me.”

“Help?” said Leonard.  “You haven’t given us a speck of ‘help,’ Q.”

“Q helps those who help themselves. I shall be departing momentarily — congratulations, gentlemen, and have a pleasant honeymoon.”  He pushed himself off the table. “By the way, you two are really quite creative.  If Jean-Luc is ever inclined to, shall we say, expand his horizons, I’ll be sure to keep in mind the Vulcan Love Knot” — Leonard’s mouth dropped open and Spock’s eyebrow rose — “All Thrusters Ahead” — Leonard turned red in the face and Spock’s eyebrow rose higher — “and especially Sweet Georgia Peaches.”

“You’ve been spying on us while we’re in bed?!  I’ll wring your

omnipotent neck, you nosy, prying, voyeuristic creep!”  Leonard lunged

for Q, who vanished, then reappeared on the opposite side of the room.

“You really must learn to get your temper under control, Leonard.  Au

revoir, mes amis.”  Another flash of light, and Q again disappeared.

“I wonder how long that extradimensional Peeping Tom has been popping

in on us!”  Leonard paced the room, fuming.

“At least as far back as three hundred fifty seven point nine two days ago.”

Leonard momentarily stopped pacing to throw a confused look at his

husband.  “How do you figure — ?  Oh.  That time I threw out my back.”

It had been during their visit to the Cygnus System, not quite a year ago, that

he and Spock had tried the Vulcan Love Knot for the first — and last — time.

“It is likely that Q has been observing us from the time we initiated a

sexual relationship.”  By Vulcan standards, Spock sounded distinctly unhappy.  “He did mention he knew all our positions on the Enterprise.”

“Too bad he isn’t straight.”  Leonard had resumed his pacing.  “I bet he

could have learned a lot of moves watching Jim, instead of us.”

“Perhaps he has observed the Captain.  He did express an attraction for

Kathy.  And he seemed aware of Captain Kirk’s . . . romantic proclivities.”

Leonard continued to pace.

“You do realize,” Spock said, “that we are going to have to file a report with Star Fleet regarding this incident.”

“I don’t want to write any damn report right now!  We’re on our honeymoon,

for God’s sake!”

“Star Fleet must be made aware of the existence of the Q Continuum, and

the possible future destruction of Romulus.  It is unfortunate that Q provided

no surnames for Kathy, Jean-Luc or Benjamin, or time frames for any of the

people or events to which he alluded.”  Spock watched his restless mate.  Leonard’s distress increased his own upset.  “I feel no obligation to reveal that Q has been observing our . . . erotic activities . . . but we will have to decide whether or not to reveal his cryptic reference to an unknown future event adversely affecting the Captain.”  Spock paused.  “And whether or not to say anything to Jim about it.”

“What could we say to Jim?  We don’t know the what or where or

when of what supposedly happens to him!  For all we know, Q might have been lying.”  Leonard continued to stalk the room.  “Damn, I wish I had

kept my mouth shut when Q offered me that present!”

Spock did not point out that this was far from the first time his husband

regretted uttering impulsive words.  Or that it would undoubtedly not the

be the last.

“Leonard, please sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down!”

Spock tried a different tack.  “As you stated, we are on our honeymoon. 

What would you like to do?”  Leonard stopped his pacing to look at his husband.  One advantage to being married to a Vulcan was that Spock’s control over his own emotions and physiology allowed him to get in the

mood almost upon demand.  Usually, Leonard’s demand.

Leonard took a long breath, then smiled.  “Well, I know we both checked

out fine on that tricorder, but it would be a good idea to make sure everything’s back in working order.”  He walked over to Spock, and they embraced.  “Now where were we, when we were so rudely interrupted?”

Light flashed by the window.  “Actually, you were over here.”

“Q!”

Light flashed again.

The two men stared a moment at the empty air, then Leonard pulled out

two chairs at the table.  “Spock, let’s get started on that damn report.”