Title: Blame Botany
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, sexual references, ridiculousness
Word Count: ~4300
Prompt: ″First Winter Holiday Season on the Enterprise - mistletoe wackiness″
Summary: Mistletoe shenanigans aboard the Enterprise.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, much to my chagrin.
Author's Note: Written for the space_wrapped 2010 fest on LJ. Many thanks to my wonderful and lightning fast beta reader lauriegilbert.

Blame Botany

It all started, Leonard mused, with the theft of his underwear.

Well- to be completely accurate, it all started with the botanists nearly wetting themselves over the discovery of a plant on Mitka II that so closely resembled the Terran Viscum album - more commonly known as mistletoe - that they began hypothesizing about an ancient and perhaps long-dead race of people who had at one time visited both planets and somehow ″spread the seed,″ as it were, in both otherwise unrelated locations.

Leonard also knew that a number of the crew had already begun to beg, bribe, and liberate samples from the botany labs, and that that would lead to nothing good.

But the trouble, as it pertained to him at least, started with his underwear.

″It's not theft, Bones,″ Jim insisted. ″It's relocation.″

Leonard rolled his eyes. ″Relocation where?″

″Somewhere else. Until January, at least.″

″What, so you've decided that I need to go commando for a month? And whatever happened to stardates?″

″Stardates are for official reports. It's December back on Earth so I'm calling it December here, too. And intriguing as your suggestion is,″ Jim leered openly at Leonard, earning himself a scowl in response, ″I got you some replacements.″

Jim thrust a package into Leonard's hands, which he eyed warily, the possibility that something was about to explode crossing his mind. Considering that it was Jim doing the offering and the man theoretically loved him, it probably wasn't a bomb. Then again, considering that it was Jim, maybe a bomb would be better.

Inside the plainly wrapped package were several pairs of underwear, apparently replacements for the ones that Jim had stolen. There was a stack of Leonard's preferred boxers, two pairs of boxer-briefs, and something sparkly that looked distressingly like a thong. All were decorated with pictures of mistletoe.

″Oh no.″ Leonard tossed the sparkly scrap of nothing pretending to be underwear at Jim's head. ″Hell no.″

″C'mon, Bones. Join the festivities.″

″Jim...″ Leonard ran a palm across his face then reached up to tug sharply at his hair before trying again. ″Jim, I can handle dodging mistletoe ambushes in the corridors, heightened sexual tension in the rec rooms, and scheming crewmates in the mess. But this? This is going too far.″

″C'mon, Bones. Tradition is important. You're southern, you should know that.″

″Tradition?″ Disbelief colored Leonard's voice. ″What the hell are you talking about? Underwear theft is something done by college frat morons who raid the girls' dorm, not part of a winter celebration.″

Jim smirked. ″Depends on what you're celebrating, Bones. Kissing under the mistletoe is a time-honored tradition.″ Jim allowed a moment for that to sink before continuing, his voice gone husky. ″Imagine how much fun we'll both have when I kiss underneath that mistletoe.″

Leonard's mind ground to a halt, sputtered, and then redirected neatly. ″Oh.″

::

He was only a few minutes late for his shift, and didn't even mind admitting that Jim was right about the merits of tradition.

The boxers were reasonably comfortable, too. Double bonus.

As the botanists had made their discovery at the beginning of Earth's December, several of the crew immediately took note.

One such crewmember was Ensign Brody from Communications, who traded two bottles of decent beer for five uninterrupted minutes in the lab where the botanists kept the samples. Jim knew that Brody had been trying to woo Lieutenant Lee for a month with only moderate success and given that Lee seemed the ″romantic gestures″ sort, Jim assumed that Brody must have some sort of plan.

When Jim saw them keeping company in one of the rec rooms two days later, it was safe to assume that whatever Brody's strategy had been, it had worked and that mistletoe had played a part.

Soon, there was the enthusiastic acceptance of mistletoe into everyone's celebrations, whether the plant was traditionally a part of their holiday celebrations or not. Jim was fairly certain that he was the first to successfully get his partner into bed using the plant as an excuse, although there was no way for him to confirm it.

The holiday spirit spread to include not only the Christmas celebrations, but also Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, New Year's Day, Midwinter Festival, Eid al-Fitr, Saint Nicholas' Day, and more. When the celebrations began to be known as the Winter Holidays to keep from being limited to those occurring in December, a lieutenant from engineering raised an objection, noting that not everyone had the habit of celebrating a white Christmas. She, being Australian, enjoyed her milk and cookies in the summertime.

This led to the inclusion of yet more holidays into the celebrations regardless of season, timing, or planet of origin, and pretty much any enthusiastically nominated holiday was welcomed onto the Enterprise so long as all those celebrating did not allow the fun to interfere with the completion of their duties.

This last part, Jim noted, was... mostly followed, provided that he was willing to overlook the tendency for the celebratory spirit to lead to the inevitable pranks. None so popular as those involving the mistletoe that had started it all.

Sprigs of mistletoe were often found in the doorways and halls of the ship, waiting to catch unsuspecting crewmembers beneath them. Rarely did a day go by in the first two weeks without at least one long-hoped-for affair beginning with a little help from the plant.

Both Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov proved to be adept at avoiding the mistletoe traps around the ship. Opinion was divided between believing their skill stemming from being the ones to place many of the plants in the first place – Sulu was known for having an interest in botany, after all, and had several contacts among the botanists on staff – or their innate talents, being responsible for the helm and navigation, respectively.

Lieutenant Gaila was delighted at what she called the crew's ″abandonment of their human prudishness″ and thoroughly approved of the general loosening of inhibitions. She enthusiastically joined in whatever holiday the crew happened to be celebrating in her off-duty time, taking in every nuance of the celebrations, doing research, and soon becoming an authority of just about every holiday that was represented amongst the crew.

Lieutenant Commander Scott, too, got into the spirit as he revealed his newest invention to Jim, built especially for the holidays. He'd rigged up a ridiculous-looking bright red hat to hang a spring of mistletoe suspended above his head, giving him both an excuse and ample opportunity to snatch kisses from anyone willing to approach him while he wore it.

Jim thought he looked like a moron and made him agree to wear it only during his off-hours so as to avoid interrupting ship's activities (both from crippling laughter and the potential for his entire staff to be afraid to be near him), but Jim was apparently in the minority. Scotty, looking more pleased than words could describe, received kisses from several amused-looking crewmembers when he first unveiled his creation at a Solstice celebration in the mess one evening.

He left, Jim noted, in the company of a beaming Gaila, and Jim made a mental note to ask Scotty if he could borrow the hat sometime that week to see if it would have the same effect on Bones.

::

It didn't, but the expression on Bones' face was priceless.

Leonard grew less enthusiastic about the entire ordeal as the days of celebration turned into weeks, and his Sickbay began to see more and more holiday-related injuries and illnesses. Everything from paper cuts from the gift wrapping, to stomach aches from rich foods, to broken bones from falling off ladders while hanging the damn mistletoe.

The mistletoe was, he insisted - often loudly, at length, and often to a laughing Jim or a patient Christine Chapel - hands-down the worst of it.

Far too many of his admissions could be attributed to that blasted plant. In addition to the idiots with their ladders there were also smashed fingers gained while securing the stuff all over the ship with mallets, a broken nose when an ensign from Science had leaned in a little too fast to kiss his significant other underneath a kissing ball, a variety of allergic reactions (Why on Earth would anyone want to stick it there?), more broken hearts he had ever had to deal with before, and, saints alive, a distinct uptick in requests for contraceptives and STD inoculations.

While he was all for safe and responsible sex amongst his crew, given the numbers of requests he'd been getting and his subsequent need to drastically increase his resupply requests to Starfleet Command, Leonard had to wonder if anyone on the blasted ship ever thought about anything else!

The smirk that crossed Jim's face after he's asked that last question pretty much gave him his answer. He'd scowled right up until Jim had sidled up to him, pulled at the waist of Leonard's uniform trousers, and confirmed that Leonard was, indeed, wearing another pair of mistletoe boxers. And then Leonard tackled him to the bed.

::

Leonard only succeeded in confirming Jim's cause for amusement, but it was fun anyways.

When Jim caught sight of Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura sitting together in the mess at dinnertime he collected his food and joined them without asking if the extra seats at their table were free – Captain's privilege, after all.

Spock merely blinked at him once, and Uhura rolled her eyes, but she smiled at him after a moment and neither asked him to leave. Progress.

″So Spock,″ Jim began, stabbing several pieces of potato with his fork. ″I haven't heard your opinion on the holiday craze that has swept the ship lately. What do you think of our celebrations?″ Jim met Uhura's gaze. ″I would imagine you'd have a special interest in the mistletoe tradition.″

Uhura glared at him as he chewed. ″Classy, Captain.″

″What?″ Jim opened his eyes wide, trying for his best innocent expression. ″He's a scientist, after all, and botany is within his department.″

Uhura didn't respond, but Jim could swear he saw the corner of her lips twitch, just a little.

″While I am not convinced of the logic of such practices, I must admit to a certain fondness for certain earth-based traditions due to the love my mother had for such activities.″ Both Jim and Uhura abandoned their silent battle of wills and turned their attention to Spock.

He didn't often speak of personal matters openly, but when he did, it often left Jim with the feeling of being honored with what knowledge Spock was willing to share.

″One such tradition that she shared with my father, and later myself included mistletoe. I believe she would have found the activities on board the Enterprise... amusing.″ Spock paused and fixed his eyes upon his soup, lost in thought for a long minute before continuing. ″She once even acquired enough mistletoe to adorn each doorway within our home as well as many of my father's preferred places for work or leisure such as his office or my mother's garden.″ Spock paused again, his face oddly soft. For a Vulcan, at least.

″I believe my mother took great pleasure in 'lying in wait' as she called it, to catch my father underneath one of her traps. I walked in on them more than once underneath the mistletoe, carrying out the traditional practice of kissing and removing a berry from the plant. When asked, my father was unable to explain the logic of the situation to me but insisted that, since my mother so willingly honored many traditional Vulcan practices, it would be only fair to honor some human ones for her. That argument, at least, was indeed logical.″ Spock cocked his head to the side. ″I do believe he did endeavor to be more discreet about their honoring of certain traditions after that conversation, though.″

″That was kind of you and your father.″ Uhura's voice was soft and warm, and Jim was almost embarrassed to be observing the shared moment.

Spock nodded. ″One year my father even took part in the activity of a gift exchange and had a quilt especially made. It featured a design of a large piece of mistletoe. A quilt is an illogical item to use in a desert environment in the middle of the hottest season as it was that year, but my mother insisted on using it, even going so far as to lower the temperature on the environmental controls to make its use worthwhile. She proudly made up the bed in their sleeping quarters with it, despite my father's initial objections. He told my mother that he had intended it as a decorative item only. She informed him that she would endeavor to change his mind about the value of sleeping underneath the mistletoe.″

Spock stopped abruptly, eyes widening comically for a brief moment as though he'd just realized that perhaps he'd overshared. Jim was delighted, but valiantly tried to hide his laughter. ″That's sweet, Spock. It sounds like you all had fun celebrating human traditions.″

Jim made his escape soon after Spock informed him that Vulcan's do not ″have fun.″ Jim knew better than that.

::

Inspired, Jim spent the next two days driving Bones crazy by hiding springs of mistletoe all over their quarters, hanging it from every doorway and lab table in Sickbay, and generally accosting Bones whenever he had the slightest opportunity.

Bones was less than impressed, but Jim was undaunted by his lack of appreciation for the finer art of mistletoe.

He hid mistletoe in all of Bones drawers, pinned it to his clothing, spread leaves and berries over their bed, and even left a sprig tucked into Leonard's boots in the morning.

When Bones came home one night to find a piece sticking out of his favorite bourbon glass, Jim was treated to a blistering lecture on sanitation, poisonous flora, and the egregious treatment of good alcohol.

Jim responded to Bones' lecture the same way he had all the previous ones since the discovery of the mistletoe: he pulled out a sprig of the stuff, held it above their heads, and tugged him into a kiss.

James Kirk: Approaching infinity

Leonard McCoy: 0

::

The next time Jim joined Spock in the first officer's quarters for chess, his own room being still rather too full of mistletoe traps to be a good location for a standard game neither he nor Spock commented upon the newest decor to grace his room.

Jim didn't know where Uhura had managed to find, make, or replicate the beautiful quilt featuring a geometric representation of mistletoe, but he had to admit that it looked pretty good spread across Spock's bed.

The last straw for Leonard came when they discovered that the berries of the Mitkan mistletoe, unlike Terran mistletoe species, were not poisonous. Though the berries were technically edible in that they wouldn't kill anyone outright, they did prove – the hard way, of course, because how else did they ever do things on this ship? - to have certain... side effects.

Of particular note were the side effects that gave the fruit the brand new nickname of sex-berries.

Security had a hell of a time rounding up all the affected crewmembers engaged in unwise and semi-public displays of lust and lasciviousness. Of course, once they were caught, they all wound up in Sickbay. Leonard's Sickbay.

Alien aphrodisiac berries. Can you fucking believe it?

Once the sex berry mess was dealt with and the botanists hard at work creating a hybrid version with berries that were free from both poison and aphrodisiac properties, life on the Enterprise settled back into the usual routine. Well, usual with the addition of continued holiday celebrations and mistletoe-related pranks.

While Jim couldn't claim king-of-the-ship as far as sheer volume went – that title, if rumors were to be believed, lay with Chekov and Sulu – he had to give himself credit for originality. The most personally satisfying trick was when he'd hung mistletoe in the medical storage room in Sickbay and herded Bones in there under the guise of helping him organize hyposprays. When he'd whispered to Chapel that he was conducting a surprise inspection she's merely smiled at him and returned to her work, but she did make sure they weren't interrupted.

::

Another brilliant idea had been to use the transporters to beam mistletoe directly into the bedrooms of the his entire senior staff. Uhura made no comment as she carried a bad of the collected greenery into Jim's office and upended it onto his desk, though Jim noted that Spock's ear tips had flushed green when he'd noted that it had taken them an hour longer than expected to confront him on the trick.

Scotty thanked him for giving him new ammunition for his hat, and passed along the message that Gaila had enjoyed the gift as well.

Sulu gave him sour looks for a day or so, but Chekov informed Jim that the only reason for it was because Jim had broken their streak of never having been caught underneath the mistletoe. When Jim asked who had been caught with Sulu, Chekov had blushed fiercely and stammered that he was late for his shift.

::

The day he'd secured a piece of mistletoe above the transporter deck had been a definite success. When Spock had signaled to request a beam out for his landing party, Jim had made sure to be ready and waiting to greet the team on their arrival. Uhura looked immediately suspicious when she saw him standing there since their mission had been uneventful.

It wasn't until he'd dismissed the security team and Uhura's aide from the transporter room that he pointed to the sprig of mistletoe above Spock and Uhura's heads.

″Ahh, memories.″

″Very funny, Captain.″

Leonard was slowly going nuts.

Jim caught him, on average, three times a day underneath kissing balls and sprigs of mistletoe and lorded his skill over Leonard regularly. Leonard had yet to attempt to turn the tables on Jim, hoping the man would eventually get bored and abandon the game. He had apparently forgotten about the past three and a half years of their acquaintance.

Leonard decided he couldn't let this continue on without exacting some sort of vengeance, and he knew that whatever he did, it would have to be sneaky and creative. And for what he had in mind, he would need some help.

As soon as he exited the turbolift to the bridge, Jim could feel all the eyes turn to him and linger. He didn't acknowledge it at first, continuing to study his PADD as he crossed the bridge to take his place in the command chair.

The eyes remained on him and he could swear he heard at least one sharp intake of breath when he paused in front of the chair, poised to sit.

He paused his scanning of the PADD in his hands but kept his eyes trained on it and his fingers idly tapping its surface in an imitation of attention as he considered the situation. Something was clearly going on. He heard the sound of the opening turbolift door, and knew.

Only an idiot would dismiss Bones' arrival as coincidence.

Fortunately, Jim wasn't an idiot.

Placing his PADD down on his chair, Jim glanced around the bridge. No mistletoe hung from the ceiling panels. Nothing attached to the consoles around him. No potentially berry-laced beverages sitting around waiting to be consumed.

When Bones stepped close to Jim, stopping next to him in the center of the bridge, Jim openly examining him, looking for hidden hypos or covert sprigs of mistletoe tucked away on his person.

Bones watched hiss antics with relative calm, only his single raised eyebrow and a tiny, barely-there smirk betraying his amusement. ″Something wrong, Jim?″

Jim narrowed his eyes and looked Bones up and down again. ″What's up, Bones?″

″Whatever do you mean, Captain?″

If that wasn't a clear indication that Bones was up to something, Jim didn't know what was. He performed another examination of his surroundings.

″Lose something, Jim?″

Bones looked far too self-satisfied for Jim's comfort and suspicion grew stronger in his gut.

″You're messing with me, playing a mental game, aren't you? You're trying to make me think that you've laid a trap and are just waiting for me to step into it. Using the anticipation of retribution to keep me on edge, when all the while you haven't done a single thing and I'm just psyching myself out unnecessarily and doing all the work for you.″ Jim crowed when he saw Bones' glare. ″That's it, isn't it?″

Bones crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to glower, but didn't reply.

″Nice try, Bones. You actually had me going there for a few moments, I'll give you that.″ Jim grinned as he glanced around the bridge, noting that all eyes were, indeed, on the scene at the center of the bridge rather than on their designated consoles. ″I think it's time we all got back to work, wouldn't you say?″

Confident of his victory, Jim clapped Bones on the shoulder, picked up his PADD from his chair and sat down.

He could practically hear the sharp intake of breath from everyone on the bridge, save perhaps Spock and Uhura. He paused in the middle of pulling up his messages and glanced around the bridge again. He caught Hannity's eyes flickering between himself and Bones and saw a flash of Uhura's brilliant smile before she swiftly schooled her expression.

Turning once again to his CMO, Jim froze at the sight of the triumphant expression that had crossed Bones' face.

Shit.

Jim closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath. He suspected that he had just been played. For real, this time.

He stood up slowly, squared his shoulders, and turned to face the object of his new suspicions.

At first glance the command chair appeared normal and untouched, but, a veteran practical joker himself, Jim knew that was not necessarily an indication of safety. He examined the chair from all sides and found nothing suspicious. He spun the chair in a full rotation; still nothing. With a glare in Bones' direction, he bent to examine underneath the seat. Bingo!

Jim tore off the branch of mistletoe that had been fastened to his chair and held it up for the entire bridge to see, amidst the disappointed groans and barely restrained laughter of his crew. ″I don't suppose I need to ask who is responsible for this, do I?″ He was careful to maintain a sober expression and allowed a hint of steel to enter his voice.

The bridge crew shifted uneasily. Though some of the previous pranks had certainly toed the line of propriety, none had actually crossed over into their on-duty responsibilities.

″I know Doctor McCoy couldn't have pulled this off in front of an entire bridge full of people without being caught. And it certainly would be against regulation to leave the bridge unattended for any length of time while not in space dock.″ Again, no one responded.

Jim let the silence hang in the air, fully intent on waiting until someone cracked. It didn't take long.

Bones sighed. ″Jim, you know it wasn't-″

″So am I to assume,″ Jim interrupted, continuing to meet the faces of each crewmember one by one. ″That this was a group effort?″

Chekov coughed behind him and Jim spun to face him, causing the young man to jump slightly and blush furiously. ″Yes, Keptin. We all had a part in this. We were-″

Jim cut him off with a sharp hand gesture and then turned to survey the bridge, noting several distressed expressions and embarrassed-looking crewmembers. Deciding he'd made them sweat enough, Jim cracked a smile and looked down at the mistletoe in his hand.

″Does this mean you all have to kiss my ass?″

Silence reigned for several seconds as his statement sunk in and then everyone, save for Spock, naturally, collectively lost their shit.

Jim allowed their hilarity to continue for several moments before he tossed the sprig into Chekov's lap and clapped smiling Bones on the shoulder again, this time adding a soft squeeze before releasing him. ″I think it's time to have a little chat with Botany about the security of their samples.″ A new wave of chuckling swept across the bridge, along with a soft muttering of disappointment. He imagined some people weren't yet ready to abandon their fun. ″Okay people, let's get back to work.″

Later, in their quarters, Leonard devoted himself to fulfilling the promise he's made with his mistletoe trap.

Jim was sprawled naked beneath him, gasping as Leonard lavished attention to his chest, his abdomen, his-

″You know, that's not where you're supposed to be kissing me.″ The devilish grin on Jim's face countered the sheen of sweat on his face and the strain in his voice.

″Patience, Jim.″ Leonard pressed a last kiss to the flesh in front of him before he crawled up the bed to hover over Jim. ″I'll get there.″ He pressed his lips to the point where Jim's neck met his shoulder and sucked hard, then smiled when Jim's entire body tensed beneath him. ″Eventually.″

Jim groaned, and between pants managed to reply, ″I- god, Bones, do that again- I love the holidays.″

Leonard's only answer was to capture Jim's lips with his own.