Title: Ready, Set, RUN! (3/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: Playtime!verse one-shot, set between Playtime and The Good Life. Pike spends a weekend with the boys.
Previous Part: 1 | 2

Part Three

“C’mon, Chris, don’t be such a tight-ass.”

“No.“

Archer takes a stance that Pike knows well. Here come the big guns. “If Porthos can’t stay the weekend, then I won’t stay the weekend. You understand my plain speak, Pike, or do I have to make it plainer?” Jon turns around like he is going to leave.

When Pike doesn’t take the bait, his friend throws up his hands in a gesture of God, why are you being so stubborn!

Pike tries to insert a measure of reason. “You do realize what those boys will do to poor Porthos.”

“I didn’t plan this, alright? The boy’s girlfriend is in labor. How am I supposed to predict that—with a crystal ball?”

“So call another dog-sitter.”

“There aren’t any!”

“In all of San Francisco, you can’t find another person to babysit your dog. I wasn’t born yesterday, Jon.”

“There aren’t any good ones,” complains Archer. “Trust me, I tested a hell of a lot of ’em. This guy is the only one who proved to be worth something.” Archer leans forward, now obviously on the subject of a favorite rant. “You know what I caught one of those baby-sitters doing?”

No, and he is certain that Jon is going to enlighten him even if Pike tells the man to shut up.

“The bastard spent all fucking day watching the news feed.“

“So he ignored Porthos.”

“To give the kid credit, he did walk Porthos when I specified and feed him at least three times…”

“Then it sounds like this kid did his job.”

“—but he ignored my dog otherwise,” finishes Jonathan with a glare. “Now you tell me, what if my poor, hapless Porthos had needed help—”

“He naps most of the day.”

“—or had been scared and in need of comfort—”

“The only thing that beagle is afraid of is having an empty food bowl.”

“—damn you, quit joking! This is serious! I need this guy, and if he has to go watch his girl pop out a baby, then I can’t say no—otherwise he might quit.”

“So let him go. Porthos will be okay by himself.”

Suddenly, Jon is in his face. Pike has a nice view of the man’s twitching eye and that little vein that threatens to explode when Archer is riled.

“My Porthos needs care. Now either we’re going to be one big happy family for the next two days, or I’ll ditch you faster than you can say oh shit. Think carefully, Pike. You. Kirk. Spock. McCoy. And no buffer.”

“Jon… you’re one scary SOB when you want to be. Okay, bring the dog.”

Jonathan is all smiles. He claps Christopher on the back. “You’ll see, Chris. Porthos will charm those children into good behavior.”

Pike seriously doubts that. Not unless Porthos is a certified hypnotist.

Admiral Pike and his three underlings are playing in the backyard (yes, Pike too, because he has no choice) when Jonathan appears at the fence, returned from an afternoon excursion to his apartment to retrieve the beloved beagle Porthos.

“Guess who I brought!” bellows the man.

McCoy halts mid-throw and drops the ball which he had been aiming at Spock’s oblivious head. Jimmy has already obediently trotted over to the fence to peer between the slates. Lenny shoulders his friend aside and mutters, “I can’t see nothin’. Who is it?”

Though Pike is striding from the patio, Spock arrives first at the fence to join the two curious children. Christoper doesn’t realize until too late that Lenny’s “Hey, Spock, we can’t see!” is a bad, bad thing.

The Vulcan removes one hand from behind his back, reaches out to work small fingers beneath a wooden slate (Pike’s prized white picket fence) and easily rips the board out of place and tosses it to the side.

Pike’s mouth drops open, then he runs, shouting “Stop!” but the baby Vulcan has already created a hole wide enough for McCoy and Kirk to simultaneously squeeze through. “Don’t MOVE!” orders Pike and the three boys freeze in place.

Archer, however, says “Hey, a doggie door,” and one moment later, Porthos is unceremoniously shoved through the hole.

Pike blocks out Lenny’s disappointed “It’s that smelly mutt” in lieu of reaching across the fence to shove Jon in another direction. “Use the gate,” he warns.

Instead, Archer clutches the top of the fence and glares at McCoy. “I’ll have you know that my dog is pristine.” At Lenny’s confused look, the adult clarifies, “Clean. He’s clean.”

McCoy looks at Porthos who is sniffing his shoes. “He stinks like a girl.”

“He appreciates gardenia shampoo…”

Christopher has stopping listening because he is kneeling in the dirt, trying to fit a discarded board back over the gap. He curses under his breath, thinking of the long hours he spent on the weekends building this fence. It was perfect, absolutely picture-perfect and now—

A small chin digs into his shoulder.

“Mr. Pike?”

Pike sighs and gives up on his impossible task.

“Mr. Pike?” again, more quietly.

Jimmy slides around his side, Chris automatically lifting an arm to pull the child in close, and the boy leans into him. Jimmy mumbles into his shirt, “Are you mad?”

He rocks back on his heels. “No, Jimmy. I’m not mad.”

“Oh.”

He uses his free hand to stack the slates in a pile, nail-side down. Then Pike stands up, lifting the boy as he does so. Pike motions for Lenny and Spock to listen. He points at the loose wooden boards. “Do not touch these, okay? They are dangerous.”

Spock nods solemnly. Lenny shrugs. Jimmy swings his legs, wanting to be put down.

Pike sighs and releases Kirk back into the wild (the backyard). Jonathan is bent over, unleashing Porthos who only looks mildly interested now that he has re-discovered the smell of children. As soon as the beagle is free, he grumbles, finds a shady spot and drops to the ground with a satisfied noise to nap.

The boys go in search of more lively game than a sleeping dog.

Pike turns to Jon. “Feel better?”

Archer smiles, hands in his jacket pockets. “Much.”

He looks pointedly at the dog. “If you don’t fix the hole in my fence, Porthos might run away.”

“Where’s your toolbox?”

“In the garage.”

Archer pauses as he walks away, turning to glance back his friend. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“Who called the children over to the fence?”

“Hey, I’m not a baby-faced Superman. That was all Spock.”

“Fine.” Pike’s mouth slowly curves into a smile. “I’ll fix the fence—and you can feed the boys the vegetable soup I made for lunch.”

Archer grimaces, then says in a low voice pitched to carry as he opts to find the toolbox, “Vegetables? God, Pike, what kind of monster are you?”

The kind that fights dirty. Pike walks back into the house. He is soon distracted by the sprinting blur across the hallway between bedrooms that is Kirk, naked as the day he was born.

Lenny is then seen, less of a blur and more a stalk, in pursuit of the elusive Kirk. The seven year-old is snarling, “You can’t run forever! I’m your doctor and I can kill you if I wanna!” The child is wielding what appears to be a spatula and a stapler.

“Admiral.”

Pike blinks and turns slowly to the doorway on his left. A silhouetted Vulcan says, too calmly, “Were the Captain to suffer his demise, I will require proper attire for the mourning rites.”

“Nobody’s dying, Spock.”

Then Jimmy lets loose a shrill noise and Pike changes his mind.

“Correction, Mr. Spock. I require you to prevent the Captain’s demise.”

“Understood.”

The Vulcan disappears back into the shadows. Pike heads into the kitchen, praying that the soup in the old-fashioned crockpot (Winona’s, actually) isn’t burned. If so, then it’s ice cream on the menu again. He idly wonders if the boys are smart enough to switch the dials on the crockpot to high.

Best not to think on that answer for too long.

He prepares lunch to the distant sound of hammering and a jaunty singing voice horridly off-key.

Home, sweet home.

Pike’s weekend is underway!

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Ready, Set, RUN! (9/9) – from February 18, 2011
• Ready, Set, RUN! (8/?) – from February 16, 2011
• Ready, Set, RUN! (7/?) – from February 10, 2011
• Ready, Set, RUN! (6/?) – from February 3, 2011
• Ready, Set, RUN! (5/?) – from January 31, 2011