McCoy sat stiffly, his eyes darting across the elaborate spread of food in front of him, his mind racing with thoughts of how to politely, but firmly, refuse the local delicacies. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry—far from it—but something about this whole diplomatic mission rubbed him the wrong way. The way the planet's leaders insisted on tradition and ceremony, all of it so... unnecessary.

Beside him, Damian was clearly as uncomfortable as he was, if not more so. He shot a glare at them, arms crossed, muttering under his breath, "I swear, if I’m stuck in this farce of a ceremony much longer, I’m going to start offering medical consultations instead of playing along with these absurd rituals."

Then, as if to make matters worse, a ceremonial cake—decorated in the most ostentatious way possible—was placed before them. A single slice. No doubt some grand symbol of union, McCoy thought with a sigh. As always, he had no interest in indulging these outlandish customs, but before he could protest, Damian.. picked up a fork, shooting him a look that clearly said, ‘we’re doing this’. McCoy grumbled under his breath, grabbed his own fork, and begrudgingly took a bite of the overly sweet cake. His jaw tightened as he chewed, eyeing the leader of the planet nervously.

The next few moments passed in a haze. There was a lot of pomp, a lot of nodding, and then a loud, booming voice from the leader of the planet. “Congratulations! You two are now officially bonded for life!”

McCoy choked on his bite of cake, his eyes bulging in shock. He shot to his feet, knocking the plate over in the process. "What in the blazes—?!" His voice echoed through the hall, already red in the face. This was not how he intended to spend his evening, and certainly not how he intended to be ‘married.’

He turned to Damian.., his expression filled with disbelief and panic. “This is your fault! What in the name of the stars were you thinking?!” He could hear Kirk struggling to not laugh in the background- even Spock corked a smirk.