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Title:In which McCoy has the last word
Series: Star Trek: XI
Rating: PG
Warnings: none, unless you count Jim Kirk as a warning.
Wordcount: 499
Summary: For a st_xi_kink prompt. Jim's being an idiot again. McCoy does not approve.
Dr. Leonard McCoy liked to consider himself a reasonable man. He'll readily admit that there may be a few kinks in his personality that could potentially grate at the iron-clad control of certain parties, but he does his job and he does it well so no one really complains.
Then there was the Captain, settled precariously close to the edge of a med-bay bed, strung up a little too high on pain medication, and babbling in a string of consciousness with a distinct absence of his brain-mouth filter.
McCoy takes a deep breath and silently counts to ten.
"I don't get it, Bones. What does she see in that tight-ass, pointy-eared bastard anyway?" Kirk had already pondered this in multiple ways and with various terminology for a while now, but he didn't appear to have slowed down any, " He's rigid as a rock when he talks to her, he never notices her rising skirt line..."
"They're two consenting adults." McCoy countered. "You can hardly fault them for their decisions." He lost his train of thought on the current report and has to start reading the report from the beginning.
"You're being reasonable." Kirk pointed a swaying finger at the doctor and slurred, "And you're undermining my point here." He flops back to fully lay on the bed and practically wails, " He spends more time with his console than he does with her or anyone else for that matter and-"
"AND." McCoy ground out, "If you haven't noticed. I'm working." He flipped back to the previous screen and reread the same line -again-.
Kirk either didn't hear or didn't care; knowing him it was probably a combination of both. "I mean, he's not bad on the eyes, but-"
Silence. McCoy dared to hope that the captain had finally run out of steam.
"There's got to be a regulation against it somewhere, right?"
McCoy dropped the data pad he held onto his supply unit in frustration when he realized he had no clue what he was reading.
"Why don't you just tell him?" You oblivious little cretin.
That seemed to have stopped the stream of verbal vomit.
"What?"
"Instead of harassing me with this love sick puppy drivel, you can tell him how you feel and sort out this jealousy problem of yours before we all mutiny and maroon you. Again." the surgeon wrenches open a needle kit and grumbles, "I'm a doctor, not a psychologist." He fills a syringe gun with a clear liquid and swiftly injects the dose on the side of the captain's neck.
Kirk frowns, "I'm not love-sick." He makes a face. "And what was tha--?" then he passes out.
"It's a sedative." McCoy informs the unconscious man, "You're being a menace to my medical bay. I'm doing myself a favor."
He rolls his eyes and returns to his work.
"And stop mooning over him," He adds as an afterthought, "You're like a pining school girl."
For obvious reasons, Kirk doesn't rebuke that statement.
====================================
Title:In which McCoy unwittingly starts a Ménage à Trois
Series: Star Trek: XI
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 933
Summary: For a st_xi_kink prompt. When it comes to Jim Kirk, sometimes you (McCoy) just don't want to know.
Despite the ugly beginnings of a bruise discoloring the side of his temple, Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise sat in the med-bay with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, looking entirely too pleased with himself. On the other hand, McCoy, the Chief Medical Officer of the same Starship Enterprise who now had to deal with said captain with shit-eating grin, was not amused. It's been three days since a sparkling USS Enterprise -repaired from her last run in with the Romulans- set sail on her second mission with a newly minted captain and most of her original crew. Not a single one of those days did McCoy enjoy a blessed evening alone in the med-bay.
"You have a concussion," he deadpanned as he continued his stitching, "I'm guessing that you are grinning because you either said something extremely offensive to Spock again or you're developing a hematoma." He ties off the last suture as he mutters "For both our sakes, I hope it's the latter. At least then I'd be able to fix it."
Kirk had the audacity to intensify his grin, "But then who'd keep you company during your long and boring hours stuck here treating foot fungus and lung worms?"
"You know, you could at least pretend to be more mature than a toddler." McCoy said as he rolled his eyes. "Wait." He pauses for a moment, "No, that's an insult to toddlers."
"I'm just having some fun, Bones," Kirk pulled a pout, one that seemed to have the ladies swooning in droves.
McCoy would have none of it. He stared at his captain incredulously. "Fun? We've been on this mission for less than a week. It's hardly time for you to be getting cabin fever." he scoffs, "No, this is just you being an asshole." he points an accusing finger, "I bet you couldn't go through a single day without provoking Spock into violence."
"I do not provoke him," Kirk protests half-heartedly, because both were well aware of what a crock of bull that statement was.
"Jim, I mean it," McCoy says seriously, "Is it so hard for you to lay off the smart alec comments and go through a day without your own first officer hit, assault, punch, or otherwise physically maim you in malice on a near daily basis?"
"I'm surprised you have such little faith in me," Kirk paused for a moment and actually seemed to contemplate, "Twenty-four hours?"
"Yes," McCoy studied the man in front of him with a wary eye and nodded slowly. In the years that he had known the captain, Kirk had never agreed to these kinds of things without a reason-usually a bad one-and McCoy had a sneaking suspicion that he would regret this conversation at some point in the future.
"Do I get anything out of this?" Kirk asks in jest.
McCoy rolled his eyes again. "Just say out of trouble for a day and then we'll talk, okay?"
"You're on, Bones." Kirk plastered the shit-eating grin right back on his face.
Years later, McCoy would be all too familiar with that grin and the feeling of exasperated resignation mixed with a slight twinge of fear that went along with it.
-
By the time the twenty-four hours came and gone, McCoy had pretty much resigned himself as winner of the bet. He didn't know it was possible to feel this disappointed in victory. The next day, Kirk managed to show up at the bridge even worse for the wear than before and when McCoy saw Spock, he noticed the Vulcan walking with a well concealed rigidity. McCoy was so resigned that when he had to take out a couple of old stitches on the captain's back later in the afternoon, he decided to steer clear of even talking about it.
Of course, that didn't stop Kirk from bringing it up.
"I'll be happy to inform you that I've won the bet."
McCoy stared at the captain in shock.
"What?" Kirk asked with an obnoxiously fake innocent expression, "No fanfare or celebrations? I expected a heartfelt congratulations at the least."
"I'm sorry, I think I may have heard you wrong. You didn't get into a fight?" the doctor's voice trailed off again as he made another visual sweep of Kirk's body just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Dark bruises mottled down his torso and back, four thin-lined welts marred his left shoulder and he had a split lip that crusted over with dried blood. All definitely new.
"No you didn't hear me wrong. I told you, I won. Spock and I got along just fine." Kirk said with such rehearsed sincerity McCoy wanted to deck him in the face. "We settled our differences in a very mature way."
"Don't patronize me, I'm not blind!" he gestured to the new bruises, "How do you explain these then? They were definitely not here yesterday. And don't give me that 'I walked into a door' crap, I wasn't born yesterday."
"Bones, Bones, Bones, you misunderstand," Kirk replied with an all too familiar shit-eating grin. "You said I couldn't provoke him into attacking me in malice and he didn't. After all, you never said anything about nailing, Bones."
They shared a rather long and silent stare down as McCoy turned their conversation in his head. Then it hit him.
"Oh," then it really hit him, Oh "But- how...?" the doctor sputtered, "I mean, what-...the lieutenant-" he tried.
"Oh, Lieutenant Uhura?" Kirk waved him off, "She looked to me like she was enjoying the show."
McCoy choked on his own spit.
====================================
So I've had some quality time with lol!crack. Now I can finally focus on my Trek OTP. aka: porn. :D
Series: Star Trek: XI
Rating: PG
Warnings: none, unless you count Jim Kirk as a warning.
Wordcount: 499
Summary: For a st_xi_kink prompt. Jim's being an idiot again. McCoy does not approve.
Dr. Leonard McCoy liked to consider himself a reasonable man. He'll readily admit that there may be a few kinks in his personality that could potentially grate at the iron-clad control of certain parties, but he does his job and he does it well so no one really complains.
Then there was the Captain, settled precariously close to the edge of a med-bay bed, strung up a little too high on pain medication, and babbling in a string of consciousness with a distinct absence of his brain-mouth filter.
McCoy takes a deep breath and silently counts to ten.
"I don't get it, Bones. What does she see in that tight-ass, pointy-eared bastard anyway?" Kirk had already pondered this in multiple ways and with various terminology for a while now, but he didn't appear to have slowed down any, " He's rigid as a rock when he talks to her, he never notices her rising skirt line..."
"They're two consenting adults." McCoy countered. "You can hardly fault them for their decisions." He lost his train of thought on the current report and has to start reading the report from the beginning.
"You're being reasonable." Kirk pointed a swaying finger at the doctor and slurred, "And you're undermining my point here." He flops back to fully lay on the bed and practically wails, " He spends more time with his console than he does with her or anyone else for that matter and-"
"AND." McCoy ground out, "If you haven't noticed. I'm working." He flipped back to the previous screen and reread the same line -again-.
Kirk either didn't hear or didn't care; knowing him it was probably a combination of both. "I mean, he's not bad on the eyes, but-"
Silence. McCoy dared to hope that the captain had finally run out of steam.
"There's got to be a regulation against it somewhere, right?"
McCoy dropped the data pad he held onto his supply unit in frustration when he realized he had no clue what he was reading.
"Why don't you just tell him?" You oblivious little cretin.
That seemed to have stopped the stream of verbal vomit.
"What?"
"Instead of harassing me with this love sick puppy drivel, you can tell him how you feel and sort out this jealousy problem of yours before we all mutiny and maroon you. Again." the surgeon wrenches open a needle kit and grumbles, "I'm a doctor, not a psychologist." He fills a syringe gun with a clear liquid and swiftly injects the dose on the side of the captain's neck.
Kirk frowns, "I'm not love-sick." He makes a face. "And what was tha--?" then he passes out.
"It's a sedative." McCoy informs the unconscious man, "You're being a menace to my medical bay. I'm doing myself a favor."
He rolls his eyes and returns to his work.
"And stop mooning over him," He adds as an afterthought, "You're like a pining school girl."
For obvious reasons, Kirk doesn't rebuke that statement.
====================================
Title:In which McCoy unwittingly starts a Ménage à Trois
Series: Star Trek: XI
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 933
Summary: For a st_xi_kink prompt. When it comes to Jim Kirk, sometimes you (McCoy) just don't want to know.
Despite the ugly beginnings of a bruise discoloring the side of his temple, Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise sat in the med-bay with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, looking entirely too pleased with himself. On the other hand, McCoy, the Chief Medical Officer of the same Starship Enterprise who now had to deal with said captain with shit-eating grin, was not amused. It's been three days since a sparkling USS Enterprise -repaired from her last run in with the Romulans- set sail on her second mission with a newly minted captain and most of her original crew. Not a single one of those days did McCoy enjoy a blessed evening alone in the med-bay.
"You have a concussion," he deadpanned as he continued his stitching, "I'm guessing that you are grinning because you either said something extremely offensive to Spock again or you're developing a hematoma." He ties off the last suture as he mutters "For both our sakes, I hope it's the latter. At least then I'd be able to fix it."
Kirk had the audacity to intensify his grin, "But then who'd keep you company during your long and boring hours stuck here treating foot fungus and lung worms?"
"You know, you could at least pretend to be more mature than a toddler." McCoy said as he rolled his eyes. "Wait." He pauses for a moment, "No, that's an insult to toddlers."
"I'm just having some fun, Bones," Kirk pulled a pout, one that seemed to have the ladies swooning in droves.
McCoy would have none of it. He stared at his captain incredulously. "Fun? We've been on this mission for less than a week. It's hardly time for you to be getting cabin fever." he scoffs, "No, this is just you being an asshole." he points an accusing finger, "I bet you couldn't go through a single day without provoking Spock into violence."
"I do not provoke him," Kirk protests half-heartedly, because both were well aware of what a crock of bull that statement was.
"Jim, I mean it," McCoy says seriously, "Is it so hard for you to lay off the smart alec comments and go through a day without your own first officer hit, assault, punch, or otherwise physically maim you in malice on a near daily basis?"
"I'm surprised you have such little faith in me," Kirk paused for a moment and actually seemed to contemplate, "Twenty-four hours?"
"Yes," McCoy studied the man in front of him with a wary eye and nodded slowly. In the years that he had known the captain, Kirk had never agreed to these kinds of things without a reason-usually a bad one-and McCoy had a sneaking suspicion that he would regret this conversation at some point in the future.
"Do I get anything out of this?" Kirk asks in jest.
McCoy rolled his eyes again. "Just say out of trouble for a day and then we'll talk, okay?"
"You're on, Bones." Kirk plastered the shit-eating grin right back on his face.
Years later, McCoy would be all too familiar with that grin and the feeling of exasperated resignation mixed with a slight twinge of fear that went along with it.
-
By the time the twenty-four hours came and gone, McCoy had pretty much resigned himself as winner of the bet. He didn't know it was possible to feel this disappointed in victory. The next day, Kirk managed to show up at the bridge even worse for the wear than before and when McCoy saw Spock, he noticed the Vulcan walking with a well concealed rigidity. McCoy was so resigned that when he had to take out a couple of old stitches on the captain's back later in the afternoon, he decided to steer clear of even talking about it.
Of course, that didn't stop Kirk from bringing it up.
"I'll be happy to inform you that I've won the bet."
McCoy stared at the captain in shock.
"What?" Kirk asked with an obnoxiously fake innocent expression, "No fanfare or celebrations? I expected a heartfelt congratulations at the least."
"I'm sorry, I think I may have heard you wrong. You didn't get into a fight?" the doctor's voice trailed off again as he made another visual sweep of Kirk's body just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Dark bruises mottled down his torso and back, four thin-lined welts marred his left shoulder and he had a split lip that crusted over with dried blood. All definitely new.
"No you didn't hear me wrong. I told you, I won. Spock and I got along just fine." Kirk said with such rehearsed sincerity McCoy wanted to deck him in the face. "We settled our differences in a very mature way."
"Don't patronize me, I'm not blind!" he gestured to the new bruises, "How do you explain these then? They were definitely not here yesterday. And don't give me that 'I walked into a door' crap, I wasn't born yesterday."
"Bones, Bones, Bones, you misunderstand," Kirk replied with an all too familiar shit-eating grin. "You said I couldn't provoke him into attacking me in malice and he didn't. After all, you never said anything about nailing, Bones."
They shared a rather long and silent stare down as McCoy turned their conversation in his head. Then it hit him.
"Oh," then it really hit him, Oh "But- how...?" the doctor sputtered, "I mean, what-...the lieutenant-" he tried.
"Oh, Lieutenant Uhura?" Kirk waved him off, "She looked to me like she was enjoying the show."
McCoy choked on his own spit.
====================================
So I've had some quality time with lol!crack. Now I can finally focus on my Trek OTP. aka: porn. :D
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