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“Oh, what a beautiful mornin’. Oh, what a beautiful day. I’ve got a beautiful da, da. Da da da, da da da waaaaay.”

“Those are not the correct lyrics.”

Jim Kirk jumped feet as the unexpected voice came from outside the shower cubicle. He broke off his best Rodgers and Hammerstein rendition and looked over his shoulder in the direction of the speaker, squinting through the water that streamed down his face. “You’re not supposed to sing the right lyrics,” he informed the Vulcan shape he could just about make out through the steamed up door.

“Why not?” Spock asked, sounding puzzled.

Kirk grinned at the question and shrugged. “Tradition,” he replied firmly.

“Does tradition also dictate the utilisation of the wrong key to accompany the incorrect words?” the Vulcan inquired conversationally.

Kirk turned slowly to face him, planting his hands on his hips and leaning forward so his face broke through the cascade of hot water coming down from the old-fashioned showerhead. He reached out to wipe clear a circle in the steam on the door and raised his eyebrows as he met his first officer’s curious gaze. “You wanna come here and say that?” he challenged.

Spock looked his naked captain up and down and raised an eyebrow back at him. “I’ve got a wonderful feeling,” he began, opening the door to the shower, “everything’s going my way…”







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