Title: Midnight Madness
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Enterprise crew
Summary: Jim has the party planned out perfectly, so why do people keep messing it up?
A/N: Have some early Halloween crack.

Jim greeted each newcomer to the conference room with an exuberant “Welcome, welcome!” and a handshake—or in Spock and Leonard’s case, a slap to their backs. He waited until everyone was seated before he thanked them for coming.

Leonard looked around with confusion, eyeing the other expressions to find them similar or close to his own. There was an air of tension from those who had hurried here, but not from their captain.

“I thought this was an emergency briefing,” he said.

“Oh it is,” Jim assured him. “I wouldn’t pull you away from Sickbay for anything less.” He picked up a data padd and flicked his finger across the screen to activate it. “We have something of top priority to discuss and a few mutual decisions to make regarding it before I send out an official communique to the rest of the ship.”

He definitely had their attention now, though it was Spock whose brows furrowed slightly. In all likelihood, the Vulcan must be wondering how a matter of high priority could have escaped his attention in the first place. A second-in-command had clearance only superseded by the captain, and even in the rare event that Command coded a message solely to Kirk, Jim tended to share the details with him.

Jim cleared his throat and said, “In light of the hard work of this crew and a recent study performed by Medical which indicates that stress levels may be unusually high, we’re having a costume party.”

Silence filled the room.

Jim tapped his finger against the side of the padd. “It will be like a midnight monster bash!” He paused. “Communications has agreed to design the flyer.”

“What?” said Uhura sharply.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I ordered them not to tell you only because I wanted it to be a surprise from me!”

Leonard propped an elbow on the table and dropped his head into his hand. “Oh boy.”

Jim looked from Leonard to Nyota and back again. “What?”

“The Captain and I will have a discussion on what constitutes proper protocol between department heads,” Spock promised Nyota. His monotone had a tiny crack in it.

Jim waved his padd around to regain their attention. “You need to listen! The best news is that—besides getting to party—I figured out your costumes!”

“But, Keptin,” Chekov tried to interrupt.

“You’re going to love this. Chekov, you’re—”

“No,” said Leonard firmly. “You can’t do that, Jim.”

Jim frowned at him. “‘No’ to which part?”

“All of it,” declared Nyota.

“Actually,” Scotty started to say, “I kind of like the idea…” He shut up when Nyota turned to stare at him.

Leonard answered Jim’s question. “I’d say no to everything, too, except you’ll push ahead with the party anyway, so why bother? But, Jim, if we are having a costume party, the one thing you can’t do is tell us what to wear.”

Spock looked like he wanted to tack on or require our attendance but wisely did not.

Jim held up a hand. “No, no, no—you don’t understand, Bones. This is a superhero-themed party, so as the senior command team we have to Represent, okay?” Jim’s excitement manifested into a large grin, because he obviously thought he was about to announce something great. “We’re going as the Avengers!”

Somebody groaned but when Jim quickly turned towards Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov’s side of the table, he met with three poker faces. Jim gave them a strange look before lifting the data padd in his hand once again and said, “Here’s the roster. I, of course, will be Captain America.”

“Captain.”

“Yes, that’s right,” beamed Jim, looking to Spock. “Captain America.”

“No, Capt—Jim,” replied Spock, hands folded on the table in front of him but the grip of his fingers appearing slightly strained, “I wish to question the necessity of this gathering.” When Jim opened his mouth, Spock went on to add quickly, “I am not referring to the social function, sir. That is your prerogative. However, to designate of a meeting on the basis of—”

“You’re the Hulk.”

Spock’s mouth hung open for a second.

Leonard snickered.

When Spock regained his composure, he gave the doctor next to him a bland stare.

“It fits,” said Scotty, nodding his approval, “considering that time Mr. Spock flipped his lid and tried to choke Jim.”

“A moment which I prefer not be called to memory, Mr. Scott.”

Jim began to lift a hand to his neck where he had an ugly bruise for a long time but caught himself and went back to cradling his precious padd. “O-kay, I’ll finish reading this list—” Here he did cut his eyes at his Vulcan Commander. “—and then you will be dismissed.”

“Some concession,” Leonard muttered.

Sulu and Chekov exchanged a significant look which no one else in the room could interpret.

“Bones, you’re Iron Man.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“I’ve seen your t-shirt collection,” Jim said dryly.

“Jim!” cried Leonard, his ears turning red.

“Why can’t I be Iron Man?” Scotty wanted to know.

“Bones is Iron Man,” Jim repeated, then said, “Uhura is the Black Widow—”

Nyota rolled her eyes and muttered something about farm boys and sexism.

“—Sulu is Hawkeye, Chekov is Thor—”

“Keptin, as a Russian, I must protest!”

“It’s all cool, Chekov. You get a big hammer.”

Sulu leaned in and said something in a low tone to the young man beside him, who seemed to think on something for a moment and then nodded back. Why he decided to let the matter go was unclear.

Jim finished with “Scotty, you’re Spiderman.”

The Chief of Engineering rocked back in his chair at that, looking like he had just been slapped.

“Sir!” He sounded horrified. “Spiderman was never an official Avenger!”

Jim looked apologetic. “Sorry, Scotty, but there are only so many. Besides, he’s in the same universe—even the same city!”

But Scotty had straightened his spine and placed his hands flat on the tabletop, ready for a fight. “Capt’n,” he told the man very seriously, “with all due respect, I am no Peter Parker. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Scotty.”

“Don’t ye dare give me that look, ye spandex-wearing do-gooder! I know who I am! I’ll create anything Stark could!”

“I concur,” Leonard said. “Scotty’s a certified genius. He can be Iron Man.”

Jim protested. “That’s not how it is on the list!”

With a snort, Leonard pushed away from the table and stood up. “Jim, it doesn’t matter. Just switch out my name with Scotty’s. Now…” he drawled, “as enlightening as this ’emergency’ meeting has been, I’ve got patients to see. Although, Captain, I am considerin’ calling you in for a psych evaluation.”

“Seconded,” Nyota declared, who stood up as well.

The others followed suit one-by-one.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jim said, following them to the door. “Guys, this is important. It’s a party! It’s a SUPERHERO party! We have to claim our heroes now, or there will be chaos later on!”

Sulu lingered behind, long enough to catch Kirk’s gaze and say, “Sir, this is the twenty-third century. Not all superheroes come from the same place or, for that matter, from Earth. Think on what you want, and be more specific.” Then he too made his exit.

When issued, the flyers in the corridors and party invitation in every crew member’s inbox bore the title Let’s Party Like It’s the 20th Century!… This shindig is for Superheroes Only, so dress up as your favorite one!

Jim thought that made his point clear. To those of Senior Command, he sent out the proper requisition forms for their costumes with his signature already applied.

Yes, he had made his point very clear indeed.

The party was in full swing by the time Jim had been mingling with other party-goers for a good hour. He had yet to see signs of his fellow Avengers (well, discounting a few Hulks, none of which had been Spock) but it was difficult to get a look around when wading through the crowd meant he attracted plenty of attention. He took off his Captain America helmet in an attempt to deter any awkward advances, but it seemed to thrill people even more to know they were flirting with the captain of the ship. Apparently from the back he cut an enticing figure; Jim could have appreciated that more if it didn’t mean little pinches to his backside.

He had almost given up his search in lieu of haunting the bar section when he heard a familiar “Jim!” behind him.

Turning, Jim said, relieved, “Bones! Where’ve you—Bones?” He stared, looking as shocked as he sounded. “What,” he cried after a moment, “is that?“

The man in the costume looked down at himself and flexed his gloved hands. “It’s Bat gear.”

Jim made a high-pitched noise. “You’re not supposed to be Batman!” When a pair of Flashes and a Godzilla halted a conversation to look in their direction with interest, Jim lowered his voice to a rough whisper. “Damn it, Bones… Captain America doesn’t consort with Batman.”

“How perfect,” Leonard replied, amused. “I never planned on consorting with anyone. Know why? Because I’m Batman!”

Leonard moved away, then, leaving Jim to gape at his back. Within seconds, the crowd hid him from sight.

Jim pressed his mouth into a thin line, tugged his helmet over his face and went directly to the bar. He was draining his second glass when Wonder Woman laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Slow down there, Rogers.”

“Ugh. I can’t talk to you either.”

“Why not?” inquired Uhura. Her mouth curved. “Is it because I look better in stars than you do?”

“You’re not Romanov.”

“Universe snob much?”

“No,” Jim grunted. “I just thought we were a team.”

“But we are.”

Jim toyed with his glass and snuck a glance at her. “Canonically we aren’t.”

“Well… we fight for the same things, don’t we?” said Nyota. “We’re the ones who keep people safe, who protect those that cannot protect themselves. We seek justice and truth and take care of the bad guys. I would say that makes us a team.”

“Maybe,” Jim said thoughtfully.

“Just think of us as a team of independent workers. Now buy me a drink.”

“It’s an open bar.”

Uhura slid into the seat next to him. “With a limit per person, I should hope.”

Jim smiled at that. “According to Spock’s rules… but not by mine.”

“Then it’s a good thing the medical staff spent the afternoon making dozens of hangover patches.”

When they both had shots in their hands, they saluted each other, smirked and downed the fiery liquor. After Jim indicated to the bartender that he wanted another round, someone in the crowd caught his eye.

Uhura turned to look as well, then called, “Sulu, over here!”

Sulu came towards them with a purposeful stride, looking quite grim.

Jim studied his outfit. “That’s… um. Remarkably fitting.”

“I like the eye patch,” said Nyota.

“Thank you,” replied the man gravely. “I still have my one good eye.” And then he fixed that good eye on Kirk.

“Yes, sir, Director, sir!” Jim joked with a sloppy salute. He turned back to the bartender, shaking his head. “Another shot for my super-spy.” While they waited, he made small talk by asking after Chekov, who wasn’t the Thor that had just arrived.

“He’ll be here,” Sulu replied, a sparkle of amusement and I’m not telling in his visible eye.

Jim decided it was smarter not to ask for details.

A smattering of laughter from the opposite end of the bar caught his attention. “At least somebody’s enjoying themselves,” he remarked.

“Being Tony Stark does Monty good,” Uhura replied.

“What?” This time Jim tried to see over the heads of the other patrons. He finally caught sight of Scotty and what appeared to be Scotty’s newfound fanbase. “Wow, I think he has an X-Men in his lap.”

Nyota huffed and fluffed her ponytail. She might have been annoyed, or she might have been indifferent. Jim honestly couldn’t tell.

“So,” he said somewhat uncertainly, “is Spock…?”

“I am here,” a voice said near Kirk’s ear.

Jim nearly fell off his stool in surprise. “Shit,” he said, “you surprised me! Make some noise next time—wait, where’s your costume?”

Spock raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “I am wearing it.”

Jim inspected Spock’s dark Vulcan robe and admitted, “I don’t get it. Who are you?”

“He’s Surak,” Sulu decided.

“That would be blasphemous, Mr. Sulu.”

“It’s Fury.”

Spock blinked. “…My apologies, Mr. Fury. I am a disciple of Surak.”

“That’s… great,” Jim muttered, who then took a healthy swallow of his drink. “Did anybody besides Scotty follow the plan?”

Any answer his companions might have made was silenced by a deafening BOOM. At the same time all of the balloons in the room mysteriously popped, the music cut out, and a green mist filled the rec area which smelled horrifically and had some people gagging. Then the room froze as a whole as they collectively heard a howl of laughter, the diabolical kind of which few had ever encountered before in their lives. A figure came out the swirls of mist, not slinking, not gliding, but with a bounce and a twirling cane.

“Oh no,” Jim said as the man came right up to the open archway of the bar, plucked off his top hat and made a courtly bow to the bar’s occupants.

“Oh no,” he said again, abandoning his bar stool and adopting a Captain America stance. “Lieutenant,” he said sternly, “I demand an explanation.”

Chekov doffed his hat and danced around Kirk, coming up on Jim’s opposite side to whisper silkily in the man’s ear, “Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?”

Jim almost choked on his own spit.

Chekov whirled away, this time taunting as he moved past Spock, “Why so serious?” He bared his teeth at them all; the red slash that served as his clown’s grin stretched into something quite frightening. “Isn’t this a party?“

Jim still had trouble finding his words.

Sulu appeared at Jim’s elbow and said, as if Jim had been a fool not to know, “Pavel prefers super villains.”

“That’s…” Jim started but couldn’t finish his thought because a shadow swooped in out of nowhere, causing almost as much of a stir as Chekov.

The shadow was Leonard.

“Step aside, y’all,” said his friend in a gravelly voice. “This might get ugly.”

Chekov froze in the act of kissing Uhura’s hand and with agonizing slowness turned his head towards Leonard. There was a glint in his eyes that couldn’t be described as sane.

“Batman!” the Joker crowed. “What a delight!”

Batman cracked his knuckles.

Iron Man broke free from his fanbase and came tottering up to the group, clearly having started his drinking way before everyone else. Scotty’s helmet was missing, but his eyes were full of anticipation. He put up his fists.

As several other superheroes started to gather behind Batman and Iron Man, Spock said, “Captain.”

“Wait a minute,” Jim said, trying to get his bearings. There were just too many superheroes.

Chekov plucked a plastic flower from his vest coat pocket, twirled it and smelled it, ignoring them all.

Godzilla took up the DJ post in preparation for an epic battle.

From his utility belt, Leonard removed a hypospray with a Bat symbol on it.

Somehow, from somewhere, Chekov pulled out a very large, very authentic-looking machine gun and cackled.

“Captain,” repeated the Vulcan, an edge of apprehension to his voice.

“Wait a minute,” insisted Jim, only momentarily distracted as Uhura propped a boot up on an empty chair and stroked a whip.

“Okay, I’ve got it!” he declared.

The superheroes—and super villain—stopped their posturing long enough to give Jim their attention.

“As your Captain,” he began.

Another hand, in a glove matching his own, shot up into the air and waved madly.

“As your real life Captain,” he amended, “…I declare a dance-off! HIT IT, GODZILLA!”

“Aw yeah,” Godzilla crooned.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

…And also too embarrassing to relive for most.

-Fini

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