Title: My, My Spock Couldn't Let it Go
Word Count: 2,335
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: CRACK, unbeta'd
Summary: Written for this prompt: SPOCK FINDS OLD RECORDINGS OF "ABBA" AND GETS TOTALLY HOOKED. THE REST OF THE CREW WANTS TO MURDER HIM FOR MAKING THEM LISTEN TO "MAMA MIA" ON REPEAT OVER THE BRIDGE SOUND SYSTEM.
Notes: Includes impromptu conclusion!



Spock normally did not care for modern human music. What passed for music on Earth, currently, was the devastating combination of “nature” sounds and heavy, unnecessary bass beats. It was highly illogical. Refuge for humanity’s taste in music could be found easily in the past.

He enjoyed such masterpieces produced from Mozart and Beethoven. The band called “The Beatles” also had a few songs that were suitable for listening. Despite these few saving graces, Spock still had yet to find human music that truly spoke to him.

That was until he found the greatest hits album in Uhura’s trash on her personal PADD. He had intended to access the PADD in search of a document she had promised him. Upon inspection of her oddly full trash bin, he decided to check upon its contents before doing his lover the favor of emptying it.

He paused; surprised that Nyota was throwing away music. If he knew the woman as well as he did, he knew that she loved all forms of music whether they were lacking in logic or not. What had inspired her discard this music? His curiosity was, as they say, peaked.

It was easy enough to transfer the files from Uhura’s PADD to his own and erase their existence on hers as she had intended. After listening to the first track, cleverly titled “Dancing Queen” he knew that he had found the first ever human band he truly enjoyed.

Unfortunately, after a quick check of the chronometer, he found that he had to report to the bridge for his shift. He considered his options for a moment before picking up the PADD and knew that he could dedicate one ear to enjoying music while being completely focused on his duties. With that issue concluded, he picked up the PADD and left his quarters.

Once on the bridge, he did indeed spend a good deal of the first two hours listening to the music without detecting notice. It wasn’t until Kirk caught him nodding his head slightly in beat with the music that any attention was called to it.

“Not dozing off on us, are you, Spock?” the captain called teasingly, swiveling his chair around to face Spock’s station. “Looks like you’re nodding off.” This announcement, which it was considering the loud tone of Kirk’s voice, brought other crew member’s attention to Spock as well.

Spock frowned and raised his eyebrow, looking back at Jim unwaveringly. “I am not nodding off, captain,” he corrected. “I am merely enjoying some music.”

The captain’s eyebrows shot up dangerously near his hairline and the man smirked. It was a smirk Spock had become familiar with when the captain was planning on doing such things as teasing. He didn’t much care for the look to be directed at him even though it often was.

“Music?” Kirk repeated, astounded. “I didn’t even know you liked music, Spock.” He sat back in his chair and rested his elbows on the arms of the captain’s chair, hands linking over his chest. “Why don’t you play some of it for us?”

The other crewmembers looked surprised, and Spock could understand why but wasn’t surprised himself. It was very much in the captain’s character, after all, to publicly humiliate his peers when given the chance. Spock knew the man meant no harm and was just looking for a “good laugh.”

“If I must,” Spock acquiesces and turns back to his controls. Getting the music to play from the PADDs system onto his terminal took a bit of time but soon enough his terminal prompted him to play. He turned slightly in his chair, looking over his shoulder at the captain who was still blatantly watching him.

“Do you have a preference?” Spock asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Whatever it was you were listening to,” is the easy reply, accompanied by a casual wave of Kirk’s left hand.

Spock inclined his head once and turned back to the panel, playing the exact song he had been listening to. The system took a second to open the file before the music played over the speakers. While “Dancing Queen” had been wonderful in it’s own right, Spock had since replace it as the superior of the ABBA titles with the song “Mamma Mia.” That was the song that played.

The piano lead in was one of Spock’s favorite details about the song. Apparently, it was familiar enough that much of the crew reacted to it. No one’s reactions were as severe as the captain’s. His arm slipped off the armrest in shock and he lost balance, pivoting forward in his chair.

“Spock,” it was Uhura, she had turned in her chair to look across the bridge at him. “Why are you listening to ABBA?”

“I find their music to be very stimulating,” he said, sitting up a little straighter as he detected a hint of skepticism in Nyota’s tone. “This song in particular exhibits an especially creative and unorthodox use of a synthizer.”

Kirk still looked shocked, holding up a hand to stop Spock from elaborating further. “Lemme get this straight,” he said, leveling Spock with a dumbfounded gaze from under his eyebrows. “You actually like ABBA? Like, for serious no shit you aren’t just fucking with me because I forced you to play music?”

Spock took a second to decipher the captain’s meaning before frowning. “Yes, I enjoy ABBA,” he admitted, feeling uncertain.

The shocked bark of laughter that came from the captain was unexpected from Spock and caused him to lean back slightly, eyebrow at full mast. Kirk covered his mouth with his hand and raised his other hand, again, shaking it at Spock. Uhura looked very annoyed over the captain’s shoulder, frowning angrily at the blond man. She sighed and looked back up at her lover.

“ABBA isn’t very popular and---“

“Shit, son,” Kirk interrupted, sounding breathless from the exertion it took to hold back his laughter. “They suck!”

“I disagree, captain,” Spock replied, tone completely flat and an octave louder than before. The bridge crew, who had been silent and unmoving during their senior officers’ odd conversation, all turned to stare again.

Kirk’s laughter died, to Spock’s satisfaction, and he was now staring at Spock, his mouth pressed into a line. When it didn’t seem like the man was going to protest, the Vulcan continued to elaborate. “Any dislike of the band ABBA is highly illogical,” he said, turning his icy stare on the rest of the crew on the bridge. “Anyone who feels this way should reconsider immediately.”

Just then, the turbolift doors hissed open and the familiar form of Doctor McCoy stepped onto the bridge. He had been looking at a PADD, undoubtedly containing some form of some sort better suited for electronic consideration by the captain, but he looked up from it at bewilderment to the ceiling. The doctor’s gaze dropped away and then traveled around every face.

“The hell?” he grumbled, raising an eyebrow. “Is that ABBA?”

Spock straightened again and most of the people on the bridge braced themselves. “Yes,” Spock answered crisply.

McCoy broke out into a crooked grin. “I love ABBA!”

Kirk rounded in his chair; nearly falling out of it he did it so fast and balked at Bones. “You—what—you gotta be fucking kidding me!” he cried, beyond bewildered and confused now. Some cosmic joke had to be involved here, he just knew it.

McCoy visibly drew back a little when Jim rounded on him, scowling at the captain in distaste. “What are you blatherin’ on about?” he asked, walking further into the bridge. He sent another speculative look around the room, trying to discern what he had just walked into. “ABBA is a fine band, although their use of synthesizers is a little weird.”

Spock stood and everyone turned to look. An indiscernible expression was on his face as he looked at the doctor. He had never knew McCoy had such refine musical tastes. “You are not jesting?” he asked quickly.

“No?” McCoy replied, uncertainly, leaning away from Spock a little. He looked at Jim and frowned. “I don’t want to get in the middle of nothin’—“

“He’s lying,” Jim concluded, standing and stalking over to stand at Bones side. He grabbed the doctor’s arm before the man could move away. “He doesn’t like ABBA, just like nobody else likes ABBA.”

“Aktually, sir—“

“Shut up,” Kirk snapped, turning to send Chekov a Look. The young man recoiled, eyes wide. “You don’t count.”

Spock, in the meanwhile, had also come up to join Kirk, standing on the opposite side of McCoy. The doctor in question was looking particularly uncomfortable. “Captain,” Spock interjected, this time both his eyebrows were drawn pointedly downward. Everyone on the bridge looked relieved, knowing full well that the first officer would rectify this issue by putting the argument to rest. “I believe you must be experiencing some sort of delusion,” the crew held their breath, “for Dr. McCoy said he loved ABBA.”

No one saw it coming, except for maybe Uhura, and they all groaned—some out loud. Neither Spock nor Kirk noticed, locked in an intense non-verbal battle with their eyes. McCoy, stuck literally in the middle, shifted uncomfortably and tried to move away. Jim’s hand on his arm tightened painfully and to make matters worse, he now had a Vulcan death grip on his other arm. It was going to be a long, long day.

“I am not in any way deluded,” Jim said, suddenly breaking the tense (awkward for others) silence that had taken over the bridge. “I think anyone who actually likes ABBA is completely deaf.”

“I have yet to hear an argument from you that holds any merit, sir,” Spock slung back. “I am beginning to suspect you do not have one.”

The captain’s expression did a funny little dance between anger and resignation. “I don’t need one,” he eventually replied, hands fisting at his side. “ABBA is bad on general principle.”

Sulu, who had after comforting Chekov that the captain “didn’t really mean” what he’d said, managed to sneak over to Uhura. The lieutenant was watching her lover and her captain argue in horror. She jumped when Sulu tapped her, turning to look at him with her eyes comically wide.

“Sorry,” Sulu soothed in a low voice, sending a careful glance to the still arguing pair. “I just wanted to know why this was happening.”

Uhura looked guilty, pressing herself back against her chair and dropping her gaze to the floor. “The deleted files were in my PADD,” she admitted, teeth catching her bottom lip and biting it nervously. Her eyes snapped back up, wide. “I thought I was being careful! He never usually looks on my PADD.”

Jim’s loud arguing, a futile attempt on his part to be louder and somehow make himself sound smarter interrupted them for a moment. Uhura looked back that way, frowning. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. How could she have let that album get in Spock’s possession?!

“Well, now we’re all going to suffer,” Sulu said, resigned. He leant against Uhura’s station, making room for Chekov to join the conversation. The Russian was still looking frazzled.

“What is going on here?” Chekov asked weakly. “I do not understand. Why Spock like ABBA so much, he is not Russian.” He didn’t even mention the captain, for fear the man would hear and attack him again.

Sulu crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his head slightly, shaking it slowly. “As Uhura here knew very well,” he began, giving the woman a glance. The communications officer looked even guiltier. “And despite knowing it, she still asked me for my copy of ABBA’s greatest hits. I told her no because—“

“GOD DAMNIT LET GO OF ME! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” McCoy yelled, desperately trying to pull away from Kirk and Spock. The two looked startled, dropping their hold on the man. Before either could protest, McCoy ran straight into the turbolift and was gone. The two stared for a minute and immediately resumed arguing.

Uhura, Chekov and Sulu watched the turbolift doors close longingly. Silence reigned over the bridge staff as they watched their captain and first officer argue again. Eventually, Chekov remembered what they were talking about before and turned back to Sulu.

“Can not wait any longer, I need to know why,” he demanded, drive for knowledge ever persistent.

Sulu took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I didn’t want to give her the album because,” he began again, leaning in close to Chekov, his voice getting quieter and quieter the closer he got. “Because ABBA is very addicting to Vulcans.”

Chekov blinked, stepped back, and looked between Uhura and Sulu. “That’s bullshit," he exclaimed and froze, turning to send a dubious look towards the captain. The man was otherwise occupied, still, and did not react. "There has to be some solution."

"There is," Sulu breathed as if struck by realization and suddenly he was in motion. With a polite dismissal he moved Uhura out his way and began working rapidly on her terminal’s controls. “Mamma Mia” which had been on repeat for the entire span of this event warbled under his efforts.

Spock fell silent in the middle of a tirade to commemorate ABBA’s vocal harmony, hearing the distortion in the music immediately. He ignored Kirk, who had taken the silence as weakness, and sent his gaze searching around the bridge. Sulu made a quiet victorious noise and smiled tightly at Chekov who was rapidly watching him.

“There’s only one way to get a Vulcan off ABBA,” the Japanese pilot said, standing up straight and turning around. Spock spotted him and their gazes met. “Play AC/DC.”

Suddenly and blaringly loud, “Thunder Struck” boomed over the intercom. Spock recoiled, pressing his hands to his ears and hissing through his teeth. Kirk looked up in surprised and pumped a fist in the air.

“Now this is more like it!”