Jim was nothing short of a magnificent thrower of parties, but when he teamed up with Gaila, they became a force so powerful that there were no words to describe the aftermath. Chekov was turning eighteen, and Jim refused to let such an event pass by without celebration. Gaila was the first to jump on the boat, as she had adopted the youngest crewmember within thirty seconds of meeting him. Sulu, resident best friend—and possible crush, if rumors could be believed—was also throwing in his input.

As they went through the final motions of preparations, Bones had to wonder where Gaila had found the stripper. He didn't recognize him from the crew roster. Chekov was required to take at least eighteen shots as the night progressed, and when he showed up to the rec room already swaying, Bones was sure the kid had started while still on shift. He couldn't be positive, but Bones was sure such things would be frowned upon on other ships.

Chekov was given a paper crown and sash with the words "birthday boy" in bold letters. He claimed that in Russia it was a tradition for the guest of honor to receive kisses from all the women. Bones was sure that was horseshit, but his opinion went unheard, and Chekov's face was quickly littered with lipstick.

The gifts that Chekov was showered with mostly included porn and gift cards to stores that catered to the adult crowd, along with what amounted to a fully stocked vodka bar and a lone bottle of scotch from Scotty.

The next morning, Jim came down to the sickbay for a hangover cure. While he was there, Bones proceeded to stab him with various other hyposprays that the captain had been putting off. "You like stabbing me," Jim complained. "I'm serious, this is getting to be an issue. It's innuendo, isn't it? You're dirtier than you want anyone to know."

"Jim, stop being an infant," Bones said, loading up a new hypo. If he'd heard Jim say all this once, he'd heard it a million times.

"All I'm saying is that there are better things that you could be stabbing me with—OW! Dammit, you're going in too hard."

"That's what she said," Chapel supplied from across the room.

"Thank you, Christine," Jim called back. "That was lovely." She flashed him a thumbs up before continuing her inventory of supplies as if nothing had happened. "She's good at that. Now, where was I," Jim asked. "Oh, yeah, everyone thinks we're boning—haha, Bones boning—anyway, so why not just turn this stabbing fixation you've got into something that we can both enjoy?"

It wasn't another full minute before Bones was chasing Jim from the sickbay, threatening all sorts of ancient medical horrors. Sulu and Riley stood wide-eyed on the other side of the doors, Chekov supported between them. "Um, this a bad time, doctor," Sulu asked.

Bones frowned at Jim's retreating back and said, "No, I'm just screaming at the captain. I can do that anytime. What's the problem?"

"Well," Sulu said, "you remember last night when Pavel pushed the stripper off the pole and took over the dancing?" Bones nodded (again, shouldn't this be considered inappropriate behavior on a starship?). "And how he fell off and hit his head real good?" Bones nodded again.

"Well, he may have a concussion," Riley said. "But the symptoms are the same as hangover, so we can't tell."

"Best eighteenth ever," Chekov slurred.