Title: Keeping Up Appearances: Desilu Studios.

Author: T'Prillah

Codes: Friendship. K, S, Mc, HUMOR.

Rated: PG (mild language)

Summary: Due to a rip in time, Kirk, Spock and McCoy are trapped on Earth in the late 1960's in Los Angeles, California beaming into the old Desilu Studios transporter room set. Chapter 1: deals with Spock going home to the Nimoy's family, Chapter 2: is Dr. McCoy's version, Chapter 3: takes place monday morning-(they still haven't gotten rescued by Scotty!) and this chapter 4: takes places at Desilu Studios. Kirk, Spock and McCoy step in for filming for the 3 actors.



"Well, well, well," growled Pat Westmore, the make-up man, as he stood there in the make-up trailer with hands on hips, tapping one foot. He was smoking the 17th cigarette of the day and it was only 7:30am. "If it isn't Mr. Kelley and Mr. Nimoy. Nice of you to join us. I've only been waiting on you an hour. I would have given your slots away to someone else, if you weren't the damn principals."

Spock and McCoy strode into the make-up trailer, realizing that all eyes were on them. The doctor slunk down dejectedly in the make-up chair that had the actor's name on it corresponding to him. "Sorry."

"And what about you?" Westmore said with narrowed eyes to Spock who sat himself very primly in the chair next to McCoy. "Your make-up is already done. What the hell? Who did it?"

"I completed it myself at my dwelling," Spock replied calmly. McCoy chuckled at the bold faced lie that came from the Vulcan's lips.

The make-up man examined Spock closely and finally, begrudgingly admitted, "You did okay. Needs a little touching up though. The ears don't look as good as usual. What'd you do, reuse an appliance?"

For lack of a better answer the Vulcan replied: "Affirmative."

"Dammit!" Westmore snapped as he began touching up the Vulcan's ears and applying silver eyeshadow under the eyebrows. "I told you not to do that. Didn't I tell him that, De?"

"If you've told him once, you've told him a thousand times," McCoy said, smirking. Spock shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.

"You'll do too much damage to your skin," Westmore carried on complaining, "then my union will have my head on a platter, then Gene will hear about it and then what am I gonna do, huh?"

"My most humble apologies," said Spock.

McCoy couldn't help himself and snorted.

Westmore's head snapped up and noticed the CMO was going to need a haircut soon. "Put your foundation on, De," he ordered gruffly. "Time's a wastin'. I've got a boatload of extras to make-up and my assistant is swamped."

"Foundation?" McCoy leaned forward and discovered what the make-up man was talking about. He held up the 'Pan-cake' tin. "This? You mean I have to actually wear this stuff?"

Westmore sighed, shook his head and grumbled something unbecoming about actors. He looked into his pack of cigs and realized he'd smoked them all so he sauntered off to look for a cup of strong hot coffee and maybe some Valium.

Captain Kirk could be heard protesting loudly to the hairstylist on the other side of the make-up trailer: "Now, I'm serious! This is really my own hair! Leave it alone!"

* * *

"Spock," McCoy muttered to the Vulcan as they'd left their respective dressing rooms. They slunk along the multitude of offices, sets in various stages of construction, lighting stands, apple boxes, various equipment, lengths of cable, crew milling around conversing in hushed whispers on walkie talkies, to finally reach to the soundstage where the sickbay 'set' stood. There was frantic activity around them, but they were oblivious to it. They did know their way around since appearing here last Friday, but it was the first time they were to have a full shooting day. "I can't do this. Not again."

"We must," Spock replied.

"I know, but I feel absolutely ridiculous." He ran his hands down his uniform/costume and grimaced. "This fabric feels odd. My real sickbay smock doesn't feel like this. What'd they do with mine? This one itches. I don't even look like myself."

Spock raised an eyebrow and studied the doctor. McCoy looked like he always did, except for the curled eyelashes, blush, the foundation covering the moles on the forehead and face, and the pale blue eye make-up. Perhaps his hair appeared better styled then it usually was. There were no wrinkles to be found on the sickbay smock. All in all it was perhaps an improvement on the doctor's usual appearance. "We must do exactly as the actors who fill our roles must do, until Mr. Scott can beam us back, otherwise we will disturb the space-time continuum."

"When in the hell is he gonna locate us?"

"I am unable to ascertain, due to the current unavailability of my tricorder."

"Hmph." McCoy snarled, then studied him. "You seem so damned confident."

"Perhaps it is because I have actually learned my lines for the day," Spock admonished. "You have not done so, even at this time."

"Dammit, Spock. I'm a Doctor not an actor!" McCoy complained, ignoring the snicker of a nearby grip standing around munching on a donut. " I was hoping we'd be home by now. I haven't actually acted in anything since I was in the fourth grade, when I had to play the part of the Papa Billy Goat in 'The Three Billy Goats Gruff'."

"The Three Billy Goats Gruff? The children's nursery rhyme?"

"I see you know of it. Well, it's a long story as to how I got the part in the first place. Probably not the best time to tell it--"

"I am sure you shall, anyway."

McCoy glared at him, looking as grumpy as he could in blue eye make-up. "That's enough outta you. Anyway, Charlie originally was cast as the Papa Billy Goat, but he wouldn't stop complainin' about having to wear the tights, so I had to step in and take over."

"Wearing tights?"

"Yeah, but just like Charlie was, I was also traumatized by the tights wearing, so I steadfastly refused to do another play, ever. Eventually became a doctor, instead."


"Yes. So you see, Spock, I can't act like a doctor! It'll bring back memories! I'll freeze up!"

"You do not have to wear tights to play a doctor."

"That we know of, Spock," McCoy replied, sighing. "That we know of."

Suddenly Jim sauntered up, looking rather too damned happy for his own good. "You two ready to do this? I am!"

McCoy grumbled something under his breath.

"What did he say?" Kirk asked Spock.

"The good doctor retorted something vulgar about having a tights flash-back," Spock reported.

"I said, 'It's like having your damned dick in a sling', Jim," McCoy muttered. "I'm telling you, I can't do this acting thing."

Kirk laughed. "Bones, take it easy. All we have to do is be ourselves. How difficult is it for us to do that?"

A stunningly beautiful, brunette woman, wearing a costume that left little to the imagination sauntered past them. "Hello," she called out to the three of them.

Kirk spun around, taken aback, nearly gaping at her. "Hi." She sashayed on and he watched her ass intently as she walked. "That must be my love interest."

"Actually." Spock opened up the script and pointed to a line of dialogue. "She is McCoy's."

"What? Let me see that." Kirk practically ripped the hard covered script pages out of the Vulcan's hands. He briefly read a few lines of McCoy's dialogue to himself: "'Are you lonely?' 'Yes, very lonely.' 'Is there a woman for you?' 'No there's isn't'--"

"Well they got that one right, didn't they," McCoy said, still glum.

Kirk snickered at the doctor, and read on: "McCoy and Natira kiss...." There was a shocked expression that suddenly changed into an intense frown. He closed up the script, handed it back to Spock and said nothing more.

McCoy grinned satisfactorly. "There is a God after all."

Kirk put his hands on his hips and looked around. "Where's the writer? I've got to get a script change." He stalked off.

Spock and McCoy reached their respective director's chairs and sat down near the giant Panavision camera. "All right," McCoy insisted. "Help me with my lines. Mind meld with me or whatever you gotta do. Just do it and fast."

The Vulcan rolled his eyes.

Stay tuned for Keeping Up Appearances: Desilu Studios (Scenes 3 & 4)