Title: Christmas Logs
Author: Sita Z
Summary: Short, silly Christmas fic. Malcolm thinks he can sing, but let's face it, he can't. T'Pol gets confused over mistletoe, and Chef sure makes a good punch.
Disclaimer: I own neither Star Trek nor Christmas, which is very sad. I guess I could buy much better Christmas presents if I did.
AN: This was originally written as a Christmas present for my friend Gabi. I didn't want to post it, but she told me I should, and, well, here goes ;-). Merry Christmas to everyone, and I hope you have just as much fun as Malcolm does -g-...
December 24th, 2153...
The early morning hours are certainly my "favorite time" of the day. I... let us say, I have gotten used to the presence of 82 humans, but sometimes their constant emotional overload can prove somewhat taxing. Especially at times like these, when they are adopting what Commander Tucker calls the "holiday spirit". -checks chronometer- 0545....time to put on my nasal numbing agent.
Hey, I'm hungry!! How often do I have to tell you?
zzzzzquitthatgoddamnbarkingit'sstillwaytooearly -buries head under pillow-
Hungry! Hungry! HUNGRY! Hey! Get your ass out of bed!!
-throws pillow, misses Porthos by two meters- Okay! Okay!! I'm getting up! And yes, I know it's Christmas, but there'll still be NO CHEESE!
Bugger... I really don't know what's supposed to be so "merry" about Christmas. I, for one, never saw anything special about it. I remember how on Christmas Eve, my mum made me and Madeline sing carols for Aunt Sherry while my father got drunk on cinnamon punch... Later we all had to listen to him tell the old story how he told the Admiral what he thought of his sissy wimp command style. I believe that was merry enough to last me for a whole lifetime. -sighs when he sees a mistletoe pinned to the turbolift door- Bloody hell, I only wish it was over. And I'm certainly not going to the party tonight...
Okay, let's check the list... Chef's makin' a punch, Travis is gonna take care of the cocktail bar, Hoshi promised to bake some cookies, we got a tree and I convinced T'Pol that her authority is needed to keep younger crewmembers from "indulging in excessive alcohol consumption" (can't believe she fell for that one). Now if I can only convince Malcolm to come...
I am certainly looking forward to tonight's festivities... Studying humans in their natural habitat always proves fascinating, and I will be sure to bring my note padd tonight. Commander Tucker promised me that a beverage known as "Christmas punch" is known to have unique effects when consumed in large quantities... I shall make sure to try it out myself.
Must be an American thing... I mean, what's so weird about wanting to spend Christmas Eve in my quarters?? It's not like I'm being antisocial or something...
Well, let's see...1 1/2 cups sugar, 1/2 cup margarine or butter, softened... now where's the cinnamon... Chef promised me to let me have some of his supplies... alright, 1 teaspoon of baking soda... damnit, it's hot in here! And it smells like something's burning... man, Trip can sure talk anyone into anything if he sets his mind to it! How on Earth did I end up in the galley with flour all over my clothes, and... OH MY GOD! -runs to the stove-
It is intriguing to see the crew so excited about something as illogical as a holiday... Lieutenant Reed is the only one who shows some restraint. I am not quite certain why my presence is required at tonight's celebration, but Commander Tucker can prove very convincing at times... Still, I do hope he realizes that I am not participating in any traditional rituals that involve mistletoe.
Can't wait till tonight... I hope T'Pol isn't gonna see that strategically placed mistletoe twig until it's too late. Malcolm's still bein' a Scrooge, though... he nearly bit my head off when I mentioned the party to him. Hmmm... I wonder if the Cap'n could order him to come?
Thank God Phlox agreed to keep that one out of my medical file... "fell from ladder while decorating the Christmas tree". Not my most heroic Starfleet moment, I suppose. Oh well... after all, it's only my dignity that's seriously hurt, the ankle's only sprained. At least it got a smile out of Malcolm... he sure seems to be in a sour mood today.
I think I've got everything... let's see. Brandy Egg Nog, Reindeer Punch, Snowman Soup, Christmas Cocktail, Diabetic Egg Nog for Lieutenant Schwarz, Low Calorie Egg Nog (I don't see the point of a low calorie egg nog, but... oh, who cares), Punched-up Hot Cider, the Southern Egg Nog Trip asked me to bring, and of course the all time favorite, the Wassail Festive Holiday Punch Bowl. Man, they're not going to regret putting me in charge of the cocktail bar...
-checks chronometer- Half an hour until that party starts... -sighs- Why can't Trip ever listen to me?? I told him I didn't want to go, but he just said he'd pick me up at a quarter to seven. Bugger. And if I locked my door and pretended to be asleep? No, he'd probably just shortcircuit the panel and drag me out by my hair... I suppose that means I have to go, after all. But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy myself! -short pause- Did Travis say something about Hot Cider, or was that just my imagination?
The Captain will be glad to see the crew in such good morale. It does seem like everyone is enjoying themselves, although the celebration has not even officially started yet. And Commander Tucker seems to be thinking that he is being very clever... I spotted the mistletoe at once, of course. I will make sure to stay right next to it and tell him when he comes that it is futile to try and outwit a Vulcan...
Malcolm sure can be difficult when he wants to... it took me five minutes to convince him to put away that damn efficiency report. "I need to have this finished by tomorrow, Commander!" Sure. The Captain's gonna drag his hangovered butt out of bed to read Lieutenant Reed's seventeen page Armory report first thing tomorrow mornin'. An' I couldn't even talk him out of wearin' his uniform... well, never mind. At least he's goin', which is more than I was hopin' for after I asked him this mornin'.
-opens mess hall door, pushes a reluctant Malcolm inside- I knew it! She's standin' right under it! I knew she wasn't gonna see it! Be right back, Mal...
Well, I believe this is certainly what humans call "a great party". Only minor injuries so far, including the... accidents involving those so-called "mistletoe" twigs, and the Captain's sprained ankle. Let's see what I've got so far... -checks padd- Lyrics of three "traditional Christmas carols", information about "Santa Claus" (provided by Ensign T. Mayweather), data on pre-mating rituals in various stages (as observed in Lieutenants Hess and Schwarz, Ensign Kelly and Crewman Singer, and various other crewmembers). And of course Commander Tucker's and Subcommander T'Pol's encounter under the mistletoe, which resulted in an (unsuccessful) application of the Vulcan nerve pinch and the shared consumption of a piece of pecan pie as a means of conciliation. Oh, and Lieutenant Reed certainly seems to be enjoying the "Christmas Cocktail"...
Heehee, look at that, Porthos eating the cookies that have fallen to the floor... dogs shouldn't eat cookies, should they? I think it's bad for their stomach... Oh what the heck, cookies ain't bad for my stomach either, so why should they be bad for a dog? But I'm sure punch is bad for dogs. No, we're not gonna give Porthos any of our Christmas punch... -ponders on her latest train of thoughts- I'm not drunk, why should I be drunk? I'm just... getting into the spirit of things. That's right. But Malcolm is drunk. Man, is he ever. -short pause- And he sure is cute when he's drunk.
-sings horribly out of tune- "Deck the halls with boughs of holly, falalalalalalalala, tis the season to be j-" hick.... gimme some more of that p-punch, willya? What's that s'posed to mean anyway, "deck the halls"? It shoubbe "hail the decks" or "check the walls" or... no, I'm not dr-drunk, Captain, what makesh you think so? Didn't - hick - didn't know you had two doggies... and cute li'l doggies they are... but dontcha think they're a threat to security? I mean, I'm pretty shoo two doggies eat way too much, an'... an'... never mind. That sh-sure is a fine punch you've got there, Travis... can I have some more? Pleeeze?
Man, I can't remember the last time we had so much fun... look at Malcolm and Hoshi, all but dancin' on the table. Good job I took some pictures... I know someone who's gonna have a nice art gallery pinned to his tactical station in the mornin'. Mr. "I-don't-like-Christmas-parties". Well, the party sure is a success, but I think I'm still gonna leave a little earlier than planned...
It is certainly... confusing to see the crew in this state of mind. I have never heard Lieutenant Reed break into song before, and to be quite honest, it is not an experience I want to repeat. Fortunately, however, Ensign Sato is keeping him busy at the moment... I wonder what Commander Tucker meant when he asked me to join him on the observation deck to do some "stargazing"? Another traditional human ritual, I suppose... well, I am certainly curious to find out.
Oh God, I'm gonna have a king-sized hangover in the morning... well, probably nothing compared to the one Malcolm is going to have. Where's he gone, anyway, last time I saw him... behind the Christmas tree?? With...??? No, I don't think I want to know. Guess it's time I put my CMO to bed, the Christmas punch doesn't seem to agree with the Denobulan metabolism too well. Hmmm... I wonder where Trip and T'Pol are?
Heehee, shtop that, I'm t-ticklish... hey! H-hoshi, did I ever tell ya the sh-story how I told the C-Captain what I thought of his s-sissy wimp command style? -short pause- I sh-sure luv Chrissmass pahties... but don't tell anyone I said so.
Merry Christmas and Fröhliche Weihnachten ;-)! Please let me know what you think!