I like to be my best
Title: I like to be my best
Author: jessofthebugs
Disclaimer: O, I have bought the mansion of a love, /But not posess'd it. At least I have it on DVD.
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, proto-Kirk/McCoy
Rating: Teen, 15+
Type: One-shot Dollhouse crossover AU crackfic
Warnings: Cussing, sexual themes.
Word Count: 3178
Summary and Notes: Inspired by This fic by starsandgraces. This is what happens when I watch two episodes of Dollhouse and then read something like this. It's scary in my brain. Archived at awfully_clever
"Who are we today?" Leonard McCoy had signed on with the LA Dollhouse after a bitter divorce and too many years dealing with VA bullshit. He'd been assigned to Victor who, before he'd signed on, had been an army sergeant with severe PTSD. As a combat-trained Army doctor, McCoy was a perfect fit.
"Let's see," Topher glanced at the cartridge, "Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov, Russian Navigator of the USS Enterprise."
"And the client?" McCoy took Victor's health and safety very seriously and he'd go straight to Adelle and remind her of this in no uncertain terms, if necessary. But this was a romantic engagement, according to the file, and there should be no danger. Should be.
"Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, Navy pilot, and is it just me or are we having a Star Trek moment here?" McCoy raised an eyebrow, "Oookay, probably just me."
The chair rose slowly to a sitting position, but Victor sat up like a spring uncoiling. "I am late! Can you take me to see Lieutenant Sulu? We have shore leave and I told him I would meet him later."
The "Ensign" was Ukrainian by the way he jumbled his "w's" and "v's" and moved like puppy, all bounce and excitement. "C'mon, 'Ensign,' let's get you in uniform." McCoy led him out by the elbow and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
"Yes, sir!"
Topher waved as they left, "Boldly go, my friends!" There was a pause as McCoy just shook his head. Topher chuckled and spoke to no one but himself, "Am I the only one who thinks this is funny?"
They arrived at Lt. Sulu's home, a massive place worthy of the epithet "mansion," and paid for by a family business that the Lieutenant didn't talk about. Victor looked sharp in summer whites as he saluted his handler. "Thank you for the ride, sir."
"Any time, Ensign. Dismissed." McCoy returned the salute, playing along with the fantasy. All he could do now was sit back and watch. He flipped on the monitors as the driver parked a discreet distance away. Heart rate, respiration, audio, no video, and location on GPS.
"C'mon in, Pavel," The client's voice was like raw honey, dark and smooth, and though McCoy could not see, he knew Victor was grinning from ear to ear. They were barely inside and the door hadn't quite shut when they started kissing. "Oh, God, I missed you!"
"Hesh! Less talking, more sexing!" There was a rustling sound of Victor's uniform, his costume, being removed as they proceeded toward an area McCoy assumed was one of many bedrooms.
"Oh, Pavel, I hate that we have to hide this. Goddamned military 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy." A muffled, but appreciative hum meant kissing and was followed by the "Mmph" and a rustle of bedclothes as they crashed into the mattress.
"In Russia, they ask. They say you have a disabled mind and do not let you serve your country." The hurried rustling of the sheets stopped and the sounds of kissing slowed.
"Oh, Baby, I know. I know how much you love Russia." McCoy picked up the file, remembering as he looked over the paperwork that this one was a complex fantasy, meticulous attention paid to the details of "Ensign Chekov's" history. He was young, a tactical genius and navigator, thrown out of the Russian Navy for being gay. He became a US citizen and joined Uncle Sam's Navy almost in the same day and was assigned to the Reliant after recruit training. His tactical skill earned him the rank of Ensign and the heart of one Navy Lieutenant. "But you're an American now."
"Da, yes. I like McDonald's and Coca-cola and Mickey Mouse and nuclear vessels and U.S. Navy pilots!" Victor's laugh was pure joy because Ensign Chekov was head-over-heels in love.
McCoy rolled his eyes, a little disgusted by the farce of it all but a little envious too. He watched the heart and respiration monitor and turned the sound down. He'd heard this before with any number of clients, both male and female, and his training as a doctor allowed him to more or less detach himself from the situation so that all that remained was boredom with the sounds of sex. There were only so many times a man could hear heavy breathing and "Oh, yes, right there" before the shiny wore off and it ceased being interesting. He tried not to think about the details or how unsanitary it was to swap bodily fluids with another person. "Hmph. Sex is disease and danger wrapped in hormones and-"
"Sir?" The driver turned around, but didn't set down his magazine.
"Nothing McKenna, just... listening." He tamped down the burning thread of jealousy for the happy pair. Even if it was constructed on a computer back at the 'House, there was something akin to real love in the sex they were having. McCoy hadn't had any in years and he'd made it a point not to mix work and pleasure, even if there were some damn fine-looking women there. He didn't rule out the men, either, except that those particular proclivities had gotten his daughter taken away from him by a backwater cracker of a judge back home. It was the nail in the coffin, anyway, and deep desire mixed with that much bitterness tasted worse than VA coffee. He turned the sound back up when they were done and cleaning up and he scoffed when they referred to what was probably the plushest place on the whole planet to take a shit as "the head," as though it were anything like the facilities on a Navy ship.
The two chatted idly about Navy bullshit, Victor's half of the conversation having been meticulously constructed using what information could be gleaned from their connections in the Navy and hacked from the meticulous records stored in digital format on some server in Virginia (courtesy of the Washington Dollhouse). Then conversation took a more interesting turn, "I got you something."
"You did?" McCoy couldn't quite make out what the next few sounds meant, but it was probably an exuberant hug, judging by the small "oof" that came from the Lieutenant. "I want to see!"
The client's dark honey laugh was almost boyish, "It's not something you can see. I, uh, pulled some strings..."
"And?!"
"I got you stationed aboard the Enterprise, with me, so we can see each other more often."
Shit. McCoy made a note of this, to be included in the profile. Despite the medical improbability of it, Topher and Adelle both were going to have puppies when they heard this little gem.
"Oh, Hikaru!" They were both laughing now, but McCoy held his head in his hands and groaned, "You are the best Hikaru EVER!" The rest of the evening was uneventful as romantic engagements go. There was dinner at a restaurant where the soup was fucking twenty dollars, more sex, sleeping, and even more sex. McCoy closed his eyes and half-slept through most of it, ignoring the majority of the "oh's" and "ooh, Baby's" and "yeah, that's good."
The client invoked a God that McCoy wasn't sure he believed in anymore and followed it with a breathy "I love you." It hurt to hear. His ex-wife had said the same thing to him and may have even meant it a time or two, but as the old Bard said, "Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds/ or bends with the remover to remove." This thing, this fantasy that had been dreamed up and set in motion through the wonders of twenty-first century technology was more real than anything he'd had with her.
In the quiet and dewy hour before the rosy fingers of dawn extended themselves across the sky, there was a phone call to the Sulu residence and the Lieutenant's sleepy "Hullo" into the receiver was quickly followed by a crisp "Yes, sir. Right away, sir." McCoy sat up, it was almost time to pick up Victor and take him home. "Pavel, wake up."
"Again?" he complained, "You are too much for me, Hikashka. Come back to sleep."
"We've been deployed."
"Shit!" Ensign Pavel Chekov was a morning person, trained to be ready for duty at a moment's notice and McCoy guessed that Victor had probably been the same way before he'd become a doll. McCoy exited the van and walked toward the house to collect his active when a sleek black sports car pulled out of the driveway with two men in white clearly visible even through the tinted windows.
"Goddammit!" McCoy sprinted back to the van as the car sped away, his phone already out and dialing the 'House. "Can you get me Navy clearance?"
"Will-do." Boyd was a no-nonsense kind of guy, practical and efficient. They'd only locked horns a couple of times, but those were good arguments where they both had the best interests of the active in mind. "You want to tell me why?"
"The client's taken off with Victor," McCoy growled back, "We're in pursuit now."
"Better get him back, McCoy or Adelle's going to have your ass on a platter."
"Tell me something I don't know!" McCoy groused.
Boyd didn't miss a beat, "Looks like they're headed to the NWS. Take the bypass, it'll save you some time. I'll call you back when I've got your clearance." McCoy thanked him and hung up, following the blip on the GPS as he yelled directions at his driver.
The callback came just as they pulled up to the base, "About time!"
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant Commander McCoy. I have your transfer orders from the VA in the pipeline now. If you'll give your name and rank to the nice man at the gate, he can direct you to the quartermaster." McCoy guessed his game pretty quick. If things got sticky and they denied his clearance, Boyd would play the part of the commanding officer.
"A bit close to the truth, don't you think?" He looked at the uniformed sailor in the gatehouse and his stomach fluttered.
"The best lies are." Boyd's voice was even and smooth, comforting in the unwavering confidence he expressed.
McCoy sighed, "Acknowledged. McCoy out." He waved to his driver who, according protocol, would park out of sight, but nearby.
He gave his name to the seaman on duty who checked his clipboard twice for a Lieutenant Commander McCoy. "Just a minute, sir." McCoy felt his stomach flip again as he scanned the area for Victor or the black sports car and the sailor put in a call. After a few seconds, he emerged from the guardhouse and saluted. McCoy returned the salute. "Sorry about that, sir. I didn't realize it was you. If you'll proceed to that building, they'll have your uniforms waiting for you. I'm sorry about the mix-up."
"Don't worry about it, kid." Boyd was good. Boyd was really good and McCoy made a note to himself to buy the man a bottle of the good stuff before he got back to the house. McCoy kept up the ruse, grabbing a duffel full of Navy uniforms he wasn't going to wear and a brand new ID card while another sailor apologized for a mistake that was never made.
"We did the best we could, Commander. I'll see to it your proper uniforms are delivered to your next port of call. Give my regards to the captain." The kid was too eager to please and McCoy was already sick of saluting. Grumbling, he hefted the bag and continued toward the Enterprise, hoping that he'd be able to find Victor and leave before things really got hairy. They called her "The Big E," but as the biggest ship in the fleet, McCoy thought of it as just a great big grey dick that the Navy liked to pull out and wave around.
"You're out of uniform, sailor." The captain was a brash-looking asshole with blonde hair and eyes like a clear sky.
McCoy gave the captain the once-over, glancing at the last name. He was too young and too pretty to be a captain of a ship like this and McCoy suspected that the Kirk family had connections. "Yes, sir. There was a mix-up in my transfer-"
"And who are you supposed to be?" The question was as much out of curiosity as anything else.
"Lieutenant Commander McCoy, sir, Arm- er, Navy Medical." He flinched at his own SNAFU, but the captain hadn't seemed to notice.
"We could use a new sawbones. Well," he slapped McCoy on the shoulder, "get your ass below decks and in uniform, sailor. We shove off as soon as they load our photon torpedoes."
"Sir?"
"Figure of speech, Bones." Kirk's shit-eating grin was just about too much and it was all he could do not to roll his eyes. "Dismissed, sailor."
"Aye, sir." He growled. He scanned the ship as he walked, but neither Victor nor Lieutenant Sulu were anywhere to be found. The place was crowded, but after bumping into no fewer than a dozen sailors, he finally found sickbay, manned by a blonde Lieutenant by name of Chapel.
She gave him a look that let him know she meant business, "Can I help you?"
"Lieutenant Commander McCoy. Navy Medical." She looked doubtful, but seemed to take him at his word, "Is there anywhere I can get changed around here?"
She indicated a door just a few feet away, "Puri's office. He'll want to see you when he's aboard."
"Thanks." McCoy took his phone out and called the 'House as he changed clothes. Boyd answered, but the signal was weak and he could barely make out what the man said. "What?"
The reply finally came through the static. "Where. Are. You?"
"I'm on a boat." McCoy answered.
"What?" The line was more static than not and Boyd was barely audible through it.
"I'm On. A. Boat."
"What?"
McCoy couldn't tell if it was disbelief or the static and he was beginning to get frustrated, "Dammit Boyd, look at the screen- I'm on a motherfucking boat!"
The line was a little clearer now, "Why are you on a boat?"
It was a sensible question, but McCoy's temper was getting the best of him. "I'm riding on a dolphin, doing flips and shit. What do you think I'm doing? Can you get me a location on Victor?"
"Afraid not, McCoy. There's too much interference. You're going to have to do it the hard way." Boyd's tone was apologetic and there was nothing to be done but curse the Universe and keep his eyeballs open. "Call me when you've found him."
"Acknowledged. McCoy out." He hung up and sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket before finishing up the buttons of a duty uniform he had no right to wear. It would at least allow him to blend in and move more freely about the ship. Chapel gave him a curt nod and he half-assed saluted back at her before he exited sickbay to look for Victor. He liked her and in another life, perhaps, he'd have enjoyed working with her. She wasn't bad to look at, either. McCoy made his way to the flight deck and between the stripes he wore and the pissed off look, most of the crewmen made way. He found the Lieutenant dressed out in a flight suit, running his hand over the fuselage of a jet. "You!"
"Shit." He snapped to attention, but McCoy did not return the salute.
"Where the Hell is he?"
"Where is who, sir?" The Lieutenant was confused.
McCoy saluted back so the man would just put his damn arm down and answer. "You know very well 'who,' Lieutenant. You can't just take off with one of our actives and get away with it."
"Aw, fuck. You're from the Dollhouse." The Lieutenant pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, "I didn't expect to be deployed so soon. He's probably on the nav-bridge."
McCoy swatted at the air and stormed off. "I'll deal with you later." The Navigation Bridge, as it was clearly labelled, was more spacious than he'd expected and the view of the deck was spectacular. The captain was there, smiling and chatting with a young black woman, a Lieutenant who looked like she'd as soon stick a knife in your gut as give you the time of day, even through the smile she'd put on and sure enough, Victor sat at a navigator's duty station, working as though he were meant for the job. McCoy grabbed the "ensign's" arm, "Come with me. It's time for your treatment."
"Yes, sir. I would like that very much." Victor stood, compliant, and McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is there a reason you are removing our navigator from duty, Lieutenant Commander...?" A black-eyed commander, as pale as he was tall, blocked his exit.
"McCoy. This kid has a medical condition that requires regular treatments-"
"What manner of medical condition?" The man was hard to read. The question could have been simple curiosity or an attempt to foil his line of bullshit, but nothing in his tone or facial expression gave away any hint of emotion.
"Bones!" The captain approached, cock-sure and all smiles, "Commander Spock giving you trouble?"
"I was merely curious," The Commander replied, "as to Dr. McCoy's reason for removing this ensign from duty."
"I have to have a treatment, sir," Victor oh so helpfully offered as McCoy retained a posture of righteous indignation.
Kirk raised an eyebrow at the Commander, "Do you trust me?"
The Commander cocked his head to one side like a bird, "With my life, Captain."
McCoy snapped his gaze first to the Commander and then to the Captain, whose lopsided grin was suddenly the sexiest damned thing he'd seen in ten forevers. "He's all yours, Bones. Carry on." The black-eyed commander turned to speak to the fierce-looking Lieutenant, who seemed to soften as he approached. McCoy just stood there blinking for a moment. "Dismissed. Better get Ensign Chekov home."
"...Aye-aye, sir." McCoy was uneasy, waiting for the other shoe to drop as they returned to the 'House.
He sighed in relief as Victor was returned to doll-state, "Did I fall asleep?"
Topher responded according to his own script. "For a little while."
Everything that had been Pavel Chekov was gone now, the accent, the body language, all wiped clean, leaving Victor good as new. "Can I go now?"
"If you like."
Victor stood and left the room as McCoy spoke to him like a father would. "Go see Dr. Saunders."
He nodded, "I like to be my best."
"So do I, kid, so do I." McCoy loved his job, loved taking care of others, and as he processed his day, he couldn't get that brash asshole of a captain out of his mind. He found himself liking the bastard in spite of himself and hoped against hope that they'd meet again some day.
Author: jessofthebugs
Disclaimer: O, I have bought the mansion of a love, /But not posess'd it. At least I have it on DVD.
Pairing: Chekov/Sulu, proto-Kirk/McCoy
Rating: Teen, 15+
Type: One-shot Dollhouse crossover AU crackfic
Warnings: Cussing, sexual themes.
Word Count: 3178
Summary and Notes: Inspired by This fic by starsandgraces. This is what happens when I watch two episodes of Dollhouse and then read something like this. It's scary in my brain. Archived at awfully_clever
"Who are we today?" Leonard McCoy had signed on with the LA Dollhouse after a bitter divorce and too many years dealing with VA bullshit. He'd been assigned to Victor who, before he'd signed on, had been an army sergeant with severe PTSD. As a combat-trained Army doctor, McCoy was a perfect fit.
"Let's see," Topher glanced at the cartridge, "Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov, Russian Navigator of the USS Enterprise."
"And the client?" McCoy took Victor's health and safety very seriously and he'd go straight to Adelle and remind her of this in no uncertain terms, if necessary. But this was a romantic engagement, according to the file, and there should be no danger. Should be.
"Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, Navy pilot, and is it just me or are we having a Star Trek moment here?" McCoy raised an eyebrow, "Oookay, probably just me."
The chair rose slowly to a sitting position, but Victor sat up like a spring uncoiling. "I am late! Can you take me to see Lieutenant Sulu? We have shore leave and I told him I would meet him later."
The "Ensign" was Ukrainian by the way he jumbled his "w's" and "v's" and moved like puppy, all bounce and excitement. "C'mon, 'Ensign,' let's get you in uniform." McCoy led him out by the elbow and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
"Yes, sir!"
Topher waved as they left, "Boldly go, my friends!" There was a pause as McCoy just shook his head. Topher chuckled and spoke to no one but himself, "Am I the only one who thinks this is funny?"
They arrived at Lt. Sulu's home, a massive place worthy of the epithet "mansion," and paid for by a family business that the Lieutenant didn't talk about. Victor looked sharp in summer whites as he saluted his handler. "Thank you for the ride, sir."
"Any time, Ensign. Dismissed." McCoy returned the salute, playing along with the fantasy. All he could do now was sit back and watch. He flipped on the monitors as the driver parked a discreet distance away. Heart rate, respiration, audio, no video, and location on GPS.
"C'mon in, Pavel," The client's voice was like raw honey, dark and smooth, and though McCoy could not see, he knew Victor was grinning from ear to ear. They were barely inside and the door hadn't quite shut when they started kissing. "Oh, God, I missed you!"
"Hesh! Less talking, more sexing!" There was a rustling sound of Victor's uniform, his costume, being removed as they proceeded toward an area McCoy assumed was one of many bedrooms.
"Oh, Pavel, I hate that we have to hide this. Goddamned military 'Don't ask, don't tell' policy." A muffled, but appreciative hum meant kissing and was followed by the "Mmph" and a rustle of bedclothes as they crashed into the mattress.
"In Russia, they ask. They say you have a disabled mind and do not let you serve your country." The hurried rustling of the sheets stopped and the sounds of kissing slowed.
"Oh, Baby, I know. I know how much you love Russia." McCoy picked up the file, remembering as he looked over the paperwork that this one was a complex fantasy, meticulous attention paid to the details of "Ensign Chekov's" history. He was young, a tactical genius and navigator, thrown out of the Russian Navy for being gay. He became a US citizen and joined Uncle Sam's Navy almost in the same day and was assigned to the Reliant after recruit training. His tactical skill earned him the rank of Ensign and the heart of one Navy Lieutenant. "But you're an American now."
"Da, yes. I like McDonald's and Coca-cola and Mickey Mouse and nuclear vessels and U.S. Navy pilots!" Victor's laugh was pure joy because Ensign Chekov was head-over-heels in love.
McCoy rolled his eyes, a little disgusted by the farce of it all but a little envious too. He watched the heart and respiration monitor and turned the sound down. He'd heard this before with any number of clients, both male and female, and his training as a doctor allowed him to more or less detach himself from the situation so that all that remained was boredom with the sounds of sex. There were only so many times a man could hear heavy breathing and "Oh, yes, right there" before the shiny wore off and it ceased being interesting. He tried not to think about the details or how unsanitary it was to swap bodily fluids with another person. "Hmph. Sex is disease and danger wrapped in hormones and-"
"Sir?" The driver turned around, but didn't set down his magazine.
"Nothing McKenna, just... listening." He tamped down the burning thread of jealousy for the happy pair. Even if it was constructed on a computer back at the 'House, there was something akin to real love in the sex they were having. McCoy hadn't had any in years and he'd made it a point not to mix work and pleasure, even if there were some damn fine-looking women there. He didn't rule out the men, either, except that those particular proclivities had gotten his daughter taken away from him by a backwater cracker of a judge back home. It was the nail in the coffin, anyway, and deep desire mixed with that much bitterness tasted worse than VA coffee. He turned the sound back up when they were done and cleaning up and he scoffed when they referred to what was probably the plushest place on the whole planet to take a shit as "the head," as though it were anything like the facilities on a Navy ship.
The two chatted idly about Navy bullshit, Victor's half of the conversation having been meticulously constructed using what information could be gleaned from their connections in the Navy and hacked from the meticulous records stored in digital format on some server in Virginia (courtesy of the Washington Dollhouse). Then conversation took a more interesting turn, "I got you something."
"You did?" McCoy couldn't quite make out what the next few sounds meant, but it was probably an exuberant hug, judging by the small "oof" that came from the Lieutenant. "I want to see!"
The client's dark honey laugh was almost boyish, "It's not something you can see. I, uh, pulled some strings..."
"And?!"
"I got you stationed aboard the Enterprise, with me, so we can see each other more often."
Shit. McCoy made a note of this, to be included in the profile. Despite the medical improbability of it, Topher and Adelle both were going to have puppies when they heard this little gem.
"Oh, Hikaru!" They were both laughing now, but McCoy held his head in his hands and groaned, "You are the best Hikaru EVER!" The rest of the evening was uneventful as romantic engagements go. There was dinner at a restaurant where the soup was fucking twenty dollars, more sex, sleeping, and even more sex. McCoy closed his eyes and half-slept through most of it, ignoring the majority of the "oh's" and "ooh, Baby's" and "yeah, that's good."
The client invoked a God that McCoy wasn't sure he believed in anymore and followed it with a breathy "I love you." It hurt to hear. His ex-wife had said the same thing to him and may have even meant it a time or two, but as the old Bard said, "Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds/ or bends with the remover to remove." This thing, this fantasy that had been dreamed up and set in motion through the wonders of twenty-first century technology was more real than anything he'd had with her.
In the quiet and dewy hour before the rosy fingers of dawn extended themselves across the sky, there was a phone call to the Sulu residence and the Lieutenant's sleepy "Hullo" into the receiver was quickly followed by a crisp "Yes, sir. Right away, sir." McCoy sat up, it was almost time to pick up Victor and take him home. "Pavel, wake up."
"Again?" he complained, "You are too much for me, Hikashka. Come back to sleep."
"We've been deployed."
"Shit!" Ensign Pavel Chekov was a morning person, trained to be ready for duty at a moment's notice and McCoy guessed that Victor had probably been the same way before he'd become a doll. McCoy exited the van and walked toward the house to collect his active when a sleek black sports car pulled out of the driveway with two men in white clearly visible even through the tinted windows.
"Goddammit!" McCoy sprinted back to the van as the car sped away, his phone already out and dialing the 'House. "Can you get me Navy clearance?"
"Will-do." Boyd was a no-nonsense kind of guy, practical and efficient. They'd only locked horns a couple of times, but those were good arguments where they both had the best interests of the active in mind. "You want to tell me why?"
"The client's taken off with Victor," McCoy growled back, "We're in pursuit now."
"Better get him back, McCoy or Adelle's going to have your ass on a platter."
"Tell me something I don't know!" McCoy groused.
Boyd didn't miss a beat, "Looks like they're headed to the NWS. Take the bypass, it'll save you some time. I'll call you back when I've got your clearance." McCoy thanked him and hung up, following the blip on the GPS as he yelled directions at his driver.
The callback came just as they pulled up to the base, "About time!"
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant Commander McCoy. I have your transfer orders from the VA in the pipeline now. If you'll give your name and rank to the nice man at the gate, he can direct you to the quartermaster." McCoy guessed his game pretty quick. If things got sticky and they denied his clearance, Boyd would play the part of the commanding officer.
"A bit close to the truth, don't you think?" He looked at the uniformed sailor in the gatehouse and his stomach fluttered.
"The best lies are." Boyd's voice was even and smooth, comforting in the unwavering confidence he expressed.
McCoy sighed, "Acknowledged. McCoy out." He waved to his driver who, according protocol, would park out of sight, but nearby.
He gave his name to the seaman on duty who checked his clipboard twice for a Lieutenant Commander McCoy. "Just a minute, sir." McCoy felt his stomach flip again as he scanned the area for Victor or the black sports car and the sailor put in a call. After a few seconds, he emerged from the guardhouse and saluted. McCoy returned the salute. "Sorry about that, sir. I didn't realize it was you. If you'll proceed to that building, they'll have your uniforms waiting for you. I'm sorry about the mix-up."
"Don't worry about it, kid." Boyd was good. Boyd was really good and McCoy made a note to himself to buy the man a bottle of the good stuff before he got back to the house. McCoy kept up the ruse, grabbing a duffel full of Navy uniforms he wasn't going to wear and a brand new ID card while another sailor apologized for a mistake that was never made.
"We did the best we could, Commander. I'll see to it your proper uniforms are delivered to your next port of call. Give my regards to the captain." The kid was too eager to please and McCoy was already sick of saluting. Grumbling, he hefted the bag and continued toward the Enterprise, hoping that he'd be able to find Victor and leave before things really got hairy. They called her "The Big E," but as the biggest ship in the fleet, McCoy thought of it as just a great big grey dick that the Navy liked to pull out and wave around.
"You're out of uniform, sailor." The captain was a brash-looking asshole with blonde hair and eyes like a clear sky.
McCoy gave the captain the once-over, glancing at the last name. He was too young and too pretty to be a captain of a ship like this and McCoy suspected that the Kirk family had connections. "Yes, sir. There was a mix-up in my transfer-"
"And who are you supposed to be?" The question was as much out of curiosity as anything else.
"Lieutenant Commander McCoy, sir, Arm- er, Navy Medical." He flinched at his own SNAFU, but the captain hadn't seemed to notice.
"We could use a new sawbones. Well," he slapped McCoy on the shoulder, "get your ass below decks and in uniform, sailor. We shove off as soon as they load our photon torpedoes."
"Sir?"
"Figure of speech, Bones." Kirk's shit-eating grin was just about too much and it was all he could do not to roll his eyes. "Dismissed, sailor."
"Aye, sir." He growled. He scanned the ship as he walked, but neither Victor nor Lieutenant Sulu were anywhere to be found. The place was crowded, but after bumping into no fewer than a dozen sailors, he finally found sickbay, manned by a blonde Lieutenant by name of Chapel.
She gave him a look that let him know she meant business, "Can I help you?"
"Lieutenant Commander McCoy. Navy Medical." She looked doubtful, but seemed to take him at his word, "Is there anywhere I can get changed around here?"
She indicated a door just a few feet away, "Puri's office. He'll want to see you when he's aboard."
"Thanks." McCoy took his phone out and called the 'House as he changed clothes. Boyd answered, but the signal was weak and he could barely make out what the man said. "What?"
The reply finally came through the static. "Where. Are. You?"
"I'm on a boat." McCoy answered.
"What?" The line was more static than not and Boyd was barely audible through it.
"I'm On. A. Boat."
"What?"
McCoy couldn't tell if it was disbelief or the static and he was beginning to get frustrated, "Dammit Boyd, look at the screen- I'm on a motherfucking boat!"
The line was a little clearer now, "Why are you on a boat?"
It was a sensible question, but McCoy's temper was getting the best of him. "I'm riding on a dolphin, doing flips and shit. What do you think I'm doing? Can you get me a location on Victor?"
"Afraid not, McCoy. There's too much interference. You're going to have to do it the hard way." Boyd's tone was apologetic and there was nothing to be done but curse the Universe and keep his eyeballs open. "Call me when you've found him."
"Acknowledged. McCoy out." He hung up and sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket before finishing up the buttons of a duty uniform he had no right to wear. It would at least allow him to blend in and move more freely about the ship. Chapel gave him a curt nod and he half-assed saluted back at her before he exited sickbay to look for Victor. He liked her and in another life, perhaps, he'd have enjoyed working with her. She wasn't bad to look at, either. McCoy made his way to the flight deck and between the stripes he wore and the pissed off look, most of the crewmen made way. He found the Lieutenant dressed out in a flight suit, running his hand over the fuselage of a jet. "You!"
"Shit." He snapped to attention, but McCoy did not return the salute.
"Where the Hell is he?"
"Where is who, sir?" The Lieutenant was confused.
McCoy saluted back so the man would just put his damn arm down and answer. "You know very well 'who,' Lieutenant. You can't just take off with one of our actives and get away with it."
"Aw, fuck. You're from the Dollhouse." The Lieutenant pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, "I didn't expect to be deployed so soon. He's probably on the nav-bridge."
McCoy swatted at the air and stormed off. "I'll deal with you later." The Navigation Bridge, as it was clearly labelled, was more spacious than he'd expected and the view of the deck was spectacular. The captain was there, smiling and chatting with a young black woman, a Lieutenant who looked like she'd as soon stick a knife in your gut as give you the time of day, even through the smile she'd put on and sure enough, Victor sat at a navigator's duty station, working as though he were meant for the job. McCoy grabbed the "ensign's" arm, "Come with me. It's time for your treatment."
"Yes, sir. I would like that very much." Victor stood, compliant, and McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.
"Is there a reason you are removing our navigator from duty, Lieutenant Commander...?" A black-eyed commander, as pale as he was tall, blocked his exit.
"McCoy. This kid has a medical condition that requires regular treatments-"
"What manner of medical condition?" The man was hard to read. The question could have been simple curiosity or an attempt to foil his line of bullshit, but nothing in his tone or facial expression gave away any hint of emotion.
"Bones!" The captain approached, cock-sure and all smiles, "Commander Spock giving you trouble?"
"I was merely curious," The Commander replied, "as to Dr. McCoy's reason for removing this ensign from duty."
"I have to have a treatment, sir," Victor oh so helpfully offered as McCoy retained a posture of righteous indignation.
Kirk raised an eyebrow at the Commander, "Do you trust me?"
The Commander cocked his head to one side like a bird, "With my life, Captain."
McCoy snapped his gaze first to the Commander and then to the Captain, whose lopsided grin was suddenly the sexiest damned thing he'd seen in ten forevers. "He's all yours, Bones. Carry on." The black-eyed commander turned to speak to the fierce-looking Lieutenant, who seemed to soften as he approached. McCoy just stood there blinking for a moment. "Dismissed. Better get Ensign Chekov home."
"...Aye-aye, sir." McCoy was uneasy, waiting for the other shoe to drop as they returned to the 'House.
He sighed in relief as Victor was returned to doll-state, "Did I fall asleep?"
Topher responded according to his own script. "For a little while."
Everything that had been Pavel Chekov was gone now, the accent, the body language, all wiped clean, leaving Victor good as new. "Can I go now?"
"If you like."
Victor stood and left the room as McCoy spoke to him like a father would. "Go see Dr. Saunders."
He nodded, "I like to be my best."
"So do I, kid, so do I." McCoy loved his job, loved taking care of others, and as he processed his day, he couldn't get that brash asshole of a captain out of his mind. He found himself liking the bastard in spite of himself and hoped against hope that they'd meet again some day.