Dec 152009

Title: Complications in the Head
Fandom: ST XI
Characters: Spock, Kirk, Uhura, Scotty, some extras
Rating: M
Warnings: Alien peen, inappropriate use of a bathroom
Notes: For the crackmeme, but you knew that. I used to hang out in this fab gay bar, where there was only one bathroom. It had stalls. Sometimes people got into shenanigans in them, and we'd sit on the sinks and take bets… Of course, I'm the only bloke I know who looks like a twelve-year-old girl, so I kind of miss the single-bathroom theory of design.

From this prompt:
I'm trans, so I have to think about which bathroom is safe to use. This got me thinking… are bathrooms still separated by gender on the Enterprise, or has Starfleet moved past that requirement? Are bathrooms separated by species? Separated by both species *and* gender?

Anon can take the prompt in any direction, but I'd especially love to see some crew interactions in restrooms designated as open to all species and genders. People running into their crushes in the bathroom, people curious about alien genitalia but trying not to be creepy and look, graffiti written on the bathroom stalls, &c. 5+1 format might work, up to Anon!

Vulcans didn't piss often, if they did so at all, so when Spock turned to enter the head, Kirk was right there with him, keeping up his side of the conversation. The captain hopped up on the sink, pretending he wasn't attempting to ascertain whether Vulcan urine was strictly mythic. He was still commenting on the current frequency glitches in the warp core shielding, when the stall door closed. Spock returned his own theories on the matter, his voice partially disguising the brief sound of a plasma-weight liquid hitting the bowl.

Vulcans, it seemed, did piss. And from what Kirk could tell, they did it sitting down. Really, that asked more questions than it answered, for him.

The last thing Scotty expected, as he dealt with both the disagreement he was having with the leftovers the captain had brought him from that diplomatic party, the night before, and the busted lock on the stall door, was to have his ruminations disrupted by one of the lovely Orion lasses they were porting to Andoria.

"It's a partial Mintarian scorpion," she offered, sticking her slender fingers into the hole the opened latch hung from. "You probably can't see it from that side."

"What the devil would a Mintarian scorpion be doin' in the lav, aboard my ship, lass?" He looked at her, sceptically, around the partially-opened door.

"Escaping from the rhuisum-fruit shipment, in cargo bay six, at a guess." She pulled out part of a dead scorpion. "And one of the ship's cats got it, at a glance."

"How do you even know that?"

She tossed the scorpion into the rubbish bin under the sink. "It's my job to know that. And this it's not my job to know, but I know it all the same. You should have eaten the lime."

"And how do you even know there was a lime, nevermind that I should've eaten it? I don't like limes," Scotty griped, still fiddling with the lock, and hoping his intestines would remain relatively empty until the girl left.

"If you liked limes, Mr. Scott, you wouldn't be stuck in that stall." With that she wandered out, leaving Scotty to the problem he'd been having in the first place.

As if the uniform modifications for the Denevarians wasn't work enough, for Starfleet, every ship with a Denevarian assigned would need refits to at least one restroom per deck. The Enterprise, being the flagship, and thus the public face of the Federation, would receive the first Denevarian officer. Scotty was still taking measurements, when the six-tentacled crewman walked in.

"Seven point two inches lower," he told the chief engineer. "There's not a one of us quite so tall as that."

Scotty jumped, tossing the grease-pencil into the air. "Should be ashamed, sneakin' up on me like that."

"Sorry. Gryssmohr." The Denevarian held up a three-fingered hand, in introduction. "I'm assuming that's for me."

"Scotty," the engineer introduced himself, picking up the grease pencil. "Judging by the tentacles, I'd say you're right on the mark." He paused. "Is it true, then?"

"Absolutely." Gryssmohr looked around at the plumbing. "I've always been so confused by these … humanoid toilet appliances. They're so close to the ground. I can't even imagine."

"Well, apparently Starfleet had some difficulty imagining what we were going to do with you." Scotty held out the plans. "D'you want to check these, and see if they made any more mistakes, before we go installing the wrong thing, ship-wide?"

Gryssmohr's face bubbled in amusement. "I'm no plumber, but I can tell you this part…" He took the grease pencil from Scotty, and the two got down to business, much to the confusion of all who came in to actually use the humanoid toilet appliances.

"Captain, this is entirely inappropriate behaviour in which to be engaging, in a public place."

The Andorian pulled down her mini-dress and locked herself in a stall, as the captain attempted to justify himself to his first officer. And regardless of what was said, or in what manner he said it, she would always maintain that Captain Kirk did not whine.

Lieutenant Uhura found herself watching the Selchani yeoman, behind her, in the mirror, as she washed her hands. Square shoulders, a narrow, but handsome, face… He looked like exactly her type. She wondered if it would be a gross breach of protocol to ask him to dinner, under the current circumstances, or if she'd have to find an excuse to go down to the botany labs, later.

As she dried her hands, he left, and the Orion girl lounged on the corner of the sink counter shook her head.

"You don't want that one," said the Orion.

"Not such a nice guy?" Uhura asked.

"You've never tried with a Selchani, have you?" the Orion asked. "Socket incompatibility issues."

Uhura blinked. "But, I just saw him use a—"

"Take my word for it." The Orion gave a sentimental nod. "It doesn't stay that way."

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