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Summary: Christopher Pike is unimpressed by the new bartender... until someone tries to rob her a phaser point. Then, he's very interested in her.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Star Trek > Star Trek 2009 > Buffy-Centered
Star Trek > Other/General
CrunchysunrisesFR1512,00017367,0884 Sep 124 Sep 12Yes
Title: Terms of Enlistment
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Star Trek Reboot
Rating: PG
Content Notes: None
Disclaimer: I have no rights or claims to the Star Trek or Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchises, trademarks, copyrights, or characters. This is fun, not profit.
Summary: Christopher Pike is unimpressed by the new bartender... until someone tries to rob her a phaser point.  Then, he's very interested in her.
Additional Notes: Written to fill vesselandpestle's prompt for Wishlist 2011.

Chris meets Buffy in his favorite port-side bar.

Most of the bars around the ports are dark, seedy and rough with smoke-stained ceilings, dark corners, sawdust on the floor and sticky wood.  The Vulcan's Ear is only different from the others in that its rougher than most.

When Chris ambles into the bar, he's surprised to see only one guy on security.  The Vulcan's Ear needs at least two guys on weeknights if only to prevent all of the furniture from being busted up.  But there's more intact furniture than usual so Chris chalks it up to being a lull.

Behind the bar is a tiny little blond thing with perky breasts and a perkier smile.

Chris immediately reevaluates the security situation.  If she's the bartender then The Vulcan's Ear needs three guys not two.  One guy alone is asking for trouble.

"What'll it be?"

Chris orders.  He's careful to keep his hands off of the bar top and an eye on the surroundings.

But everyone is surprisingly well-behaved, even subdued.

I guess chivalry isn't dead,
Chris thinks with a smirk before he knocks back a shot.

A fight nearly breaks out between an Arcadian and a Tosk.  The bartender clinks a glass against the bar top harder than necessary and smiles with all of her teeth when the would-be brawlers look her way.

They settle down.

By then, Chris has discovered that the bar top is not sticky.  One could even call it clean.  He is also a bit fuzzy around the edges.

Chris tries to decide if the bartender's influence is ruining the bar's rough edge but only ends up deciding that he really likes the clean counter top.

The next time Chris meets her, it's a weekend and the bar is filled past capacity and there is still only one man wearing a security shirt.

At the bar, the blond is zipping between customers with something more than human speed.  Chris is vaguely interested in what that 'more' might be but he's more interested in getting blind drunk with a few of his crewmates, maybe engaging in a bar fight or three and more sex than an Orion slavegirl gets in a month.  (It's lonely being captain.  Captains cannot fish off of the company dock, so to speak.)  Shore leaves are not to be wasted on mere points of curiosity - unless it's something like who can down a pint the fastest (him), who can drink the most beer in an hour (his chief engineer), who can pick up the most girls in fifteen minutes (his first officer) and so forth and so on.

They get to the bar fighting portion of the evening but no one will fight.

There's a handful of Andorian merchantmen who look more than slightly interested.  And the pair of Romulans at the bar are gagging for one.

The bartender makes a sharp movement, drawing the Andorians' attention to her.  She arches her eyebrows, their antennae wriggle wildly then dip low and suddenly, they are more interested in peering into the depths of their drinks than fighting.  The brush of her hand against the Romulans' hands as she delivers their drinks has the pair of them studiously ignoring Chris and his crewmates.

Just before Chris leaves with the other members of The Constantine, he checks if the bartender would like to help him out with the sex portion of his evening.  She's a drag but she's hot so allowances can be made.

When she smiles sweetly and threatens to stab him with a broken bottle, Chris leaves to go find his sex and violence elsewhere.

His last thought on the entire matter for several months is that The Vulcan's Ear has really gone downhill since they hired that bartender.

Chris only goes back to The Vulcan's Ear because Winona Kirk insists on supporting a human female in a career field that is dominated by burly men and strong, alien women.  She drags him and George Kirk along in her wake.

Of course, that's the time a trio of masked and hooded people try to rob the bar at phaser point.

Winona breaks her beer bottle against the side of the bar, George settles more firmly against the bar (He once confided in Chris that he has always enjoyed watching Winona's brand of violence.) and Chris worries about minimizing casualties and contacting the police.

The bartender puts a customer's shot of synthetic scotch in front of him with undue precision.  The glass clicks quietly against the synthetic wood.

Then she's pure, unadulterated movement.

She moves faster than Chris can blink.  She is literally a blur of unleashed violence as she vaults over the bar and beats the thugs into unconsciousness with her bare hands before Winona can even find an opening in the carefully executed violence with which to stab someone.

The bar's lone security officer calls the authorities and Chris is forced to reevaluate his previous visits to the bar.

It wasn't chivalry holding anyone back, he realizes with slowly burgeoning horror.  They were scared spit-less of her.

And rightly, if the three unconscious lifeforms on the floor are anything to go by.

That's the sort of inattention to detail that gets people killed on away missions.

"That was the biggest let down I've had in ages," the bartender complains as she snatches up the shot of scotch.  She knocks it back like a pro.  "But they were using phasers so what could I really expect?"

"I like you," Winona says as she delicately lays her broken bottle onto the bar.  "I'm Winona Kirk."

The bartender eyes the bottle with open appreciation.

"I'm Buffy Summers."

Winona blinks, Chris chokes, George nods a greeting and the guy Buffy stole her drink off of dares to laugh.

"What sort of name is that?"

Without missing a beat, Buffy cold cocks him.

"My mother named me Buffy," she tells Winona.  "It's a very old family name."

Winona nods understandingly.

"So's Winona."

Buffy beams.

"We're going to be the best friends ever!"

Christopher Pike swears that he feels the universe shudder on its axis.

Chris sees a lot more of Buffy after that.  It's partly because The Vulcan's Ear becomes Winona's favroite bar in the galaxy after that.  (Buffy and Winona get along like a burning ship - there's genuine warmth between them to go with the massive amounts of stress, chaos and destruction they unleash on the people around them.)  It's partly because Chris is studying Buffy to see where he went wrong in his initial evaluation of her.  (She's just so little!  How can anyone with her body mass be so fast and so strong and so damn violent?)  It's mostly be he's fascinated by Buffy.

She takes the placement tests for the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco after losing a drinking game to Winona.

Chris pulls up her scores, more out of casual interest than anything else, to find that she has amazing potential as a line officer in security or in command.

Winona pouts over Buffy's abysmal scores on the engineering portions of the exam and George nods as if he knew it all along.  (He might have.  Sometimes the things George simply knows makes Chris' hair stand up on end.)

Chris is bemused and frustrated because what is a woman like that doing wasting her life in a bar?

When Chris straight out asks her, Buffy laughs at him.

"What would I want in Starfleet?"

"Me," Chris blurts then damns the empty shot glass, two empty beer bottles and the half-full bottle of whiskey lined up in front of him.  Clearly, those bastards are a bad influence on his tongue.  Bastards.

Buffy doesn't threaten to stab him with a broken bottle this time.  Instead she arches her eyebrows and gives him the once over.

Chris leers at her cheerfully.

"Gonna sweeten the deal with your tight little body?" she asked.  Amusement and fondness warm her voice.

"Every time it's on planet," he promises.  "And on my ship.  And your ship."

He snaps his mouth shut before he can promise, 'And anytime you let me,' because the point is to get her to join up.  (Easier access!  And, uh, helping Buffy to realize her potential.)  His great-grandmother had told them all a thousand times that no one is going to buy the cow if you give the milk away for free.  While Chris is still unsure about using cows as a metaphor for sex, he understands the principle well enough to keep his mouth shut and hold his breath.

(That turns out to be something of a miscalculation.  His breath could strip the paint off of a ship's hull.)

Buffy helpfully gives him a glass of water to clear his throat.  She watches him drink it with a very shrewd look.

"So no sex if I don't join Starfleet?"

"Hey, you had your chance at non-Starfleet-related sex," Chris reminds her.  "You threatened me with a broken bottle."

"Oh, yeah," Buffy says.  "You were a real jerk that night."

Chris smiles fondly because, honestly, people stopped using the word 'jerk' about four hundred years ago.  'People' apparently does not include Buffy or her sister.

"Probably," Chris admits.  "I had a wild and ill-mannered youth."

Buffy laughs and they tacitly agree to overlook the fact that Chris' 'wild and ill-mannered youth' was less than a year ago.

"We should bury the hatchet," he adds.  Chris tries to lean forward and look earnest but his stool wobbles - or maybe he wobbles on his stool - and he ends up clutching the bar in a white-knuckled grip.

"With sex?"

"Yes!  No!"  Chris frowns at Buffy.  She's giggling, bright-eyed and flushed from either him or the alcohol.  He hopes its from him.  "We can have lots and lots of hatch-burying sex after you join Starfleet."

Truthfully, his desire to have sex with her is not related to either her ownership of a Starfleet uniform or the length of his shore leave.  Somewhere along the way, Christopher Pike has become fond of Buffy Summer's breathtaking violence and quirky humor and old-fashioned turns of phrase.  Even her name is old fashioned.

There are only two other Buffy Summers that Christopher Pike has ever heard of.  The first led the resistance against the genetically engineered supermen.  Even as she led the regular humans to victory in the Eugenics Wars and laid the foundations for eventual planetary political unification, everyone agreed that her name was truly unfortunate.  The second Buffy Summers was at humanity's second contact with the Vulcans.  When the Vulcans had offered to take a small group to their home world as a show of good faith during treaty negotiations, Buffy and Dawn Summers had volunteered for the trip.  They had ended up staying on Vulcan as a sign of humanity's good faith.Sometimes, Chris idly wonders if his Buffy is related to those other Buffy Summers women.  After all, Buffy is an old family name within her family.  It would be a family rooted in awesome.

"Would I get to have sex in the captain's chair?" Buffy asks coyly.

Chris gets a little dizzy at the mere idea of it.

"The Constantine is going to be in San Francisco's dry dock in about a year's time," he tells her hoarsely.  "It's captain's chair will be there too."

Buffy laughs.

"I should probably be in San Francisco in a year's time too," she muses as she pours herself a shot using his shot glass and his bottle of whiskey.  She takes the shot then adds, "I suppose having my own Starfleet uniform would make getting access to that chair easier."

Chris kisses her breathless.

The End

You have reached the end of "Terms of Enlistment". This story is complete.

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