Author: Jedi Buttercup
Summary: Buffy couldn't wait for Commander Scott to do his miracle-worker thing. Double drabble.
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.
Notes: This is a tag for my earlier shortfic, "Transporter Malfunction".
Buffy sat at a table in the officer's mess, chin propped on one outsized fist as she watched her body play 3D chess with Commander Spock. It was much more interesting than the tray in front of her; Captain Kirk's tastebuds and her own were programmed way differently, and the overly-healthy, vitamin-packed meals the food replicators made always tasted off to her anyway.
She couldn't wait for Commander Scott to do his miracle-worker thing and give them their own bodies back. Things had been weird when Faith had pulled this kind of switcheroo, too, but at least then they'd both been Slayers, and female. Guys really were wired differently, and she didn't just mean the mindbendiness of her first experience with morning wood. She didn't even want to think about what the Captain had probably done with her body.
But then again, maybe he didn't care; this wasn't even his first experience with crossgender bodyswapping! Dr. McCoy had told her more about the ship's misfortunes today than she had heard in months as a mere security ensign, and Enterprise's luck apparently rivaled Sunnydale's for strangeness.
Temporary maleness aside, she was feeling more at home in this future all the time.