FIC: bridge2sickbay drabbles (3)
title: That's ol' Doc McCoy
words: 516
prompt: "Cowboys/Rodeo/Wild West"
rating/warnings: PG, McCoy is hot.
characters/pairings: Kirk/McCoy
original post: HERE
Kirk pushes through the saloon doors with a lazy air of cocksure confidence, and surveys the room with one bright-eyed glance. He tips his hat to the lady nearest to him, and murmurs a faint, 'Howdy' before sauntering to the bar. The bartender greets him with a nod and Kirk points at the whiskey and holds up two fingers. The bartender splashes the amber liquid into a glass, and Kirk knocks it back in one go before waving for another. The next he holds lightly in his hand, and Kirk leans against the bar and examines the room again.
The tables are mostly full, lit by lanterns and covered candle, and littered with bottles, glasses and guns. There are a few card games going on, several drinking games, and one table is indulging in a mixture of both. A woman with dark skin is playing cards there - her laugh wide and smile gorgeous. The stack of winnings in front of her is tall, and as her arms are bare to the shoulder, it's difficult to see how she could possibly be cheating. A polished set of ivory-handled pistols are at her waist and lap, and for the split second that Kirk catches her eye, something in her gaze is fierce and dangerous. Kirk knocks back the second shot of whiskey and decides he really likes this saloon.
Then he sees the man by the fire.
He's dressed all in leather and linen, with his feet propped up on a stool, long legs casually folded over one another at the ankle. He's armed with a pistol and a rifle across his lap, and in one gloved hand, the man's holding an open bottle of something amber. The man's chest is tapered by a three-button vest, and his body blooms upwards to broad shoulders. A dark brown bandanna is tucked about his neck, and at first Kirk can't see his face because of the broad-rimmed hat on the man's head.
Something must catch the man's attention, or maybe he feels Kirk's gaze, but he lifts his head and peers out at the room. The man's short hair is dark and slicked back under the hat, and a cupid's bow mouth is framed by a short-cropped beard. The man's eyebrows are slanted in such a way that it makes him seem perpetually annoyed, but considering the casual slouch the man has in the chair, Kirk can't see that being the case. Like with the woman playing drunken cards, Kirk meets the man's gaze, and suddenly he's looking at a set of eyes a darker blue than his own.
Kirk tips his hat slightly, running thumb and forefinger along the brim. The other man acknowledges him by raising the booze bottle in his hand, and then drinking deeply from it. Kirk has to tear himself away to face the bartender, who's been watching their little exchange; he passes Kirk a similar bottle and Kirk pays (and tips him well for it).
But when he turns back to go and approach the man, the seat by the fire is empty.
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title: brick houses
words: 306
prompt: "I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer"
rating/warnings: PG
characters/pairings: McCoy/Chekov
original post: HERE
"Don't do that," Pavel says abruptly. He drops the PADD he's reading onto the table and moves to sit beside Leonard on the couch. "Hey."
Leonard McCoy eyes him warily over the top of the book he's reading. Or rather, the book he's been pretending to read for the past half hour. "Gotta problem with me reading, kid?" He asks gruffly, and raises a questioning eyebrow.
Pavel frowns slightly and pushes the book away, sliding easily across Leonard's lap, even though the doctor sighs like it's a hindrance. "You watch me when you think I'm not looking, and then pretend you aren't."
He's not about to admit to it, so Leonard tilts his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling. "Well shoot me for lookin' at you. I'll keep my eyes to myself, then."
"No," Pavel says, and reaches up to tug at Leonard's chin; he doesn't stop until they're looking directly at each other again. "Is fine, you watching. I like it. Like you're touching me, but not really."
Leonard doesn't know what to say to something ridiculous like that, so he twists his mouth for a moment and then ignores it. "Then what's the problem, Pavel?" The book is resting between them, but Leonard's hand lingers at Pavel's hip, playing with his shirt hem.
"When you pretend like you don't do it," Pavel explains, "Is like there's a wall you put up, and each time I catch you, there's another piece of the wall. Then you stop watching, and there's a wall, and you look like you did not want to build it in the first place."
The metaphor is a little clumsy, but Leonard understands. He tries not to sound too amused when he says, "I'm a Doctor, not a bricklayer."
Pavel nods, and looks pleased. "Yes, so stop laying bricks."
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title: I know, all right?
words: 568
prompt: "I've got no illusions about you, and guess what? I never did."
rating/warnings: PG
characters/pairings: Sulu/Chekov
original post: HERE
"Oh!" Chekov says with slight surprise when he nearly trips over Sulu, who's crouched beside a table in one of the botany labs. "I did not see you there! What are you doing?"
Sulu's dressed down, mostly because he's off shift, and half the ship is on shore leave (including the captain and the commander), so he doesn't see the point of keeping up appearances while they're in spacedock. The shirt sleeves of his loose cotton shirt are rolled to the elbow, and the collar is wide and relaxed, a sharp contrast to Chekov's standard uniform. Sulu's not to the point of wearing jeans, but the brown cordoroys he wears are soft and worn at the knee, and tucked into Startfleet-issue boots.
Chekov almost doesn't hear Sulu when he responds quietly, "As if you don't know what I'm doing."
"I...don't know what you mean," Chekov says, and crouches down beside him. Sulu has his arms deep into the plant bed on the bottom shelf of the table, where the lights are dialed down to the lowest setting.
"Yes you do," Sulu says. His hands pause their work in the soil, and Sulu looks over at him. The expression on his face is mild, and completely unsurprised to see Chekov. "The ship's a freaking ghost town and you happen to trip over me in a lab?"
"I was cutting through to the cargo bay," Chekov says defensively. Sulu goes back to wiggling his fingers in the soil. "This...is coincidence."
Sulu snorts, and pulls his hands free from the plant bed. In his hand are two small pods, similar in structure to green beans. "You believe in coincidence as much as I do. Which means, you don't." He drops the pods into a specimen jar before brushing the dirt off his hands. He then pivots on his knee to face Chekov properly. "So why did you come looking for me?"
At first Chekov is indignant about it. "I did not 'come looking for you', Sulu. I was only taking a short cut!"
"From where?" Sulu asks, raising his eyebrows slightly. "This would only be a short cut to the cargo bay from one of the other botany labs."
"Is short cut from jeffries tube 14-E," Chekov says, even though 14-E is a GNDN-labeled tube and they both know it. Sulu just smiles at him, and Chekov sighs. "All right, but I was not looking for you. Just hoping to find you."
"You'll argue that those are two different things, and I'll argue that they aren't, so let's not and pretend we did," Sulu says, standing up. Chekov quickly stands as well, and the pilot stretches leisurely. "Did you have something in mind?"
Chekov makes a sound in the back of this throat and gives Sulu a reproachful look. "If I am not to be coy, neither are you!" Sulu adjusts the lighting on the plant bed and then they leave the lab. "What do you think?"
"Chess," Sulu guesses, then, "Or something about the gym."
"Either, yes," Chekov says just as they're entering the turbolift. "Though I think you'd prefer the first."
"Today I would," Sulu agrees. In a few moments they reach the deck where Sulu's quarters are located. "I'm just going to put these away and I'll be right up." He indicates the pods in their container. Chekov nods, the turbolift doors slide shut, and they part ways.
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Is there a prompt table of "I'm a doctor, not a ____", because there really should be. :3 There were a bunch of other prompts I had rabbits for, but they just weren't happening. Perhaps at another time. :x ...and I'd consider writing a cowboy AU, except anything I write that deals with Westerns or the South, inevitably becomes really...campy. ...Which reminds me, didn't someone somewhere want a Winchester/the Colt western? Hm.
words: 516
prompt: "Cowboys/Rodeo/Wild West"
rating/warnings: PG, McCoy is hot.
characters/pairings: Kirk/McCoy
original post: HERE
Kirk pushes through the saloon doors with a lazy air of cocksure confidence, and surveys the room with one bright-eyed glance. He tips his hat to the lady nearest to him, and murmurs a faint, 'Howdy' before sauntering to the bar. The bartender greets him with a nod and Kirk points at the whiskey and holds up two fingers. The bartender splashes the amber liquid into a glass, and Kirk knocks it back in one go before waving for another. The next he holds lightly in his hand, and Kirk leans against the bar and examines the room again.
The tables are mostly full, lit by lanterns and covered candle, and littered with bottles, glasses and guns. There are a few card games going on, several drinking games, and one table is indulging in a mixture of both. A woman with dark skin is playing cards there - her laugh wide and smile gorgeous. The stack of winnings in front of her is tall, and as her arms are bare to the shoulder, it's difficult to see how she could possibly be cheating. A polished set of ivory-handled pistols are at her waist and lap, and for the split second that Kirk catches her eye, something in her gaze is fierce and dangerous. Kirk knocks back the second shot of whiskey and decides he really likes this saloon.
Then he sees the man by the fire.
He's dressed all in leather and linen, with his feet propped up on a stool, long legs casually folded over one another at the ankle. He's armed with a pistol and a rifle across his lap, and in one gloved hand, the man's holding an open bottle of something amber. The man's chest is tapered by a three-button vest, and his body blooms upwards to broad shoulders. A dark brown bandanna is tucked about his neck, and at first Kirk can't see his face because of the broad-rimmed hat on the man's head.
Something must catch the man's attention, or maybe he feels Kirk's gaze, but he lifts his head and peers out at the room. The man's short hair is dark and slicked back under the hat, and a cupid's bow mouth is framed by a short-cropped beard. The man's eyebrows are slanted in such a way that it makes him seem perpetually annoyed, but considering the casual slouch the man has in the chair, Kirk can't see that being the case. Like with the woman playing drunken cards, Kirk meets the man's gaze, and suddenly he's looking at a set of eyes a darker blue than his own.
Kirk tips his hat slightly, running thumb and forefinger along the brim. The other man acknowledges him by raising the booze bottle in his hand, and then drinking deeply from it. Kirk has to tear himself away to face the bartender, who's been watching their little exchange; he passes Kirk a similar bottle and Kirk pays (and tips him well for it).
But when he turns back to go and approach the man, the seat by the fire is empty.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
title: brick houses
words: 306
prompt: "I'm a doctor, not a bricklayer"
rating/warnings: PG
characters/pairings: McCoy/Chekov
original post: HERE
"Don't do that," Pavel says abruptly. He drops the PADD he's reading onto the table and moves to sit beside Leonard on the couch. "Hey."
Leonard McCoy eyes him warily over the top of the book he's reading. Or rather, the book he's been pretending to read for the past half hour. "Gotta problem with me reading, kid?" He asks gruffly, and raises a questioning eyebrow.
Pavel frowns slightly and pushes the book away, sliding easily across Leonard's lap, even though the doctor sighs like it's a hindrance. "You watch me when you think I'm not looking, and then pretend you aren't."
He's not about to admit to it, so Leonard tilts his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling. "Well shoot me for lookin' at you. I'll keep my eyes to myself, then."
"No," Pavel says, and reaches up to tug at Leonard's chin; he doesn't stop until they're looking directly at each other again. "Is fine, you watching. I like it. Like you're touching me, but not really."
Leonard doesn't know what to say to something ridiculous like that, so he twists his mouth for a moment and then ignores it. "Then what's the problem, Pavel?" The book is resting between them, but Leonard's hand lingers at Pavel's hip, playing with his shirt hem.
"When you pretend like you don't do it," Pavel explains, "Is like there's a wall you put up, and each time I catch you, there's another piece of the wall. Then you stop watching, and there's a wall, and you look like you did not want to build it in the first place."
The metaphor is a little clumsy, but Leonard understands. He tries not to sound too amused when he says, "I'm a Doctor, not a bricklayer."
Pavel nods, and looks pleased. "Yes, so stop laying bricks."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
title: I know, all right?
words: 568
prompt: "I've got no illusions about you, and guess what? I never did."
rating/warnings: PG
characters/pairings: Sulu/Chekov
original post: HERE
"Oh!" Chekov says with slight surprise when he nearly trips over Sulu, who's crouched beside a table in one of the botany labs. "I did not see you there! What are you doing?"
Sulu's dressed down, mostly because he's off shift, and half the ship is on shore leave (including the captain and the commander), so he doesn't see the point of keeping up appearances while they're in spacedock. The shirt sleeves of his loose cotton shirt are rolled to the elbow, and the collar is wide and relaxed, a sharp contrast to Chekov's standard uniform. Sulu's not to the point of wearing jeans, but the brown cordoroys he wears are soft and worn at the knee, and tucked into Startfleet-issue boots.
Chekov almost doesn't hear Sulu when he responds quietly, "As if you don't know what I'm doing."
"I...don't know what you mean," Chekov says, and crouches down beside him. Sulu has his arms deep into the plant bed on the bottom shelf of the table, where the lights are dialed down to the lowest setting.
"Yes you do," Sulu says. His hands pause their work in the soil, and Sulu looks over at him. The expression on his face is mild, and completely unsurprised to see Chekov. "The ship's a freaking ghost town and you happen to trip over me in a lab?"
"I was cutting through to the cargo bay," Chekov says defensively. Sulu goes back to wiggling his fingers in the soil. "This...is coincidence."
Sulu snorts, and pulls his hands free from the plant bed. In his hand are two small pods, similar in structure to green beans. "You believe in coincidence as much as I do. Which means, you don't." He drops the pods into a specimen jar before brushing the dirt off his hands. He then pivots on his knee to face Chekov properly. "So why did you come looking for me?"
At first Chekov is indignant about it. "I did not 'come looking for you', Sulu. I was only taking a short cut!"
"From where?" Sulu asks, raising his eyebrows slightly. "This would only be a short cut to the cargo bay from one of the other botany labs."
"Is short cut from jeffries tube 14-E," Chekov says, even though 14-E is a GNDN-labeled tube and they both know it. Sulu just smiles at him, and Chekov sighs. "All right, but I was not looking for you. Just hoping to find you."
"You'll argue that those are two different things, and I'll argue that they aren't, so let's not and pretend we did," Sulu says, standing up. Chekov quickly stands as well, and the pilot stretches leisurely. "Did you have something in mind?"
Chekov makes a sound in the back of this throat and gives Sulu a reproachful look. "If I am not to be coy, neither are you!" Sulu adjusts the lighting on the plant bed and then they leave the lab. "What do you think?"
"Chess," Sulu guesses, then, "Or something about the gym."
"Either, yes," Chekov says just as they're entering the turbolift. "Though I think you'd prefer the first."
"Today I would," Sulu agrees. In a few moments they reach the deck where Sulu's quarters are located. "I'm just going to put these away and I'll be right up." He indicates the pods in their container. Chekov nods, the turbolift doors slide shut, and they part ways.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Is there a prompt table of "I'm a doctor, not a ____", because there really should be. :3 There were a bunch of other prompts I had rabbits for, but they just weren't happening. Perhaps at another time. :x ...and I'd consider writing a cowboy AU, except anything I write that deals with Westerns or the South, inevitably becomes really...campy. ...Which reminds me, didn't someone somewhere want a Winchester/the Colt western? Hm.