Moar McCoy/M'Benga pre-slash
I done some more. I like this ship, it's exciting.
Unbetad, takes place right after the ep A Private Little War.
“What the hell are you wearing?” M’Benga scrunches his nose up and looks on in mild disgust as McCoy walks into the medical bay.
McCoy glances down at the primitive vest he’d worn down to the planet. “What?” He turns and sticks out his stomach, “Does it make me look fat?”
“Nothing in this universe will ever make you look fat, Leonard. Please tell me you’re here to steal another of my jerseys, ‘cause that whole tribesman look just isn’t working.”
“I was actually hoping you could be my doctor for a little while, not my fashion consultant.” McCoy hops up on one of the bio beds and presents his wound to M’Benga. “I seem to have acquired a hole in my arm.”
“I don’t believe you people.” M’Benga slams down the PADD he’d been writing on and grabs a medical scanner, stalking over to McCoy. “Every single away mission. Every single one! Somebody comes back poisoned or stabbed or infected and now you’re getting shot.” He runs the scanner carefully over McCoy’s arm, “With actual bullets.”
“You think you could stop giving me the enraged doctor speech, which I pretty much wrote, by the way, and give me something for the pain, Geoff?” McCoy grouses, looking over at the impressive stream of blood trailing down his arm as he pulls the strap of his medical bag over his head and drops it next to the bed.
M’Benga’s look gets even darker as he plops down on a backless medical stool and retrieves a hypo from the tray Chapel had set up discreetly by the bed, “Why didn’t you dose yourself when it happened?” He walks the stool closer to the bed and adjusts Leonard’s arm slightly.
“I used all the pain meds on Jim.” Leonard watches as Geoff’s warm fingers wrap firmly around his upper harm, holding it still while he injects the local anesthetic.
“What happened to the Captain?” M’Benga asks, inspecting the wound closely, “Why isn’t he here?”
“He got bit by one of the native animals. Big albino ape lookin’ thing. Poisonous. Thought I was gonna lose him there, for a little while. You should get him down here, get a full blood work up, I wanna see if he’s got any left in his system; that was some nasty stuff.” Leonard’s voice is absent, detached, as he watches M’Benga extract the bullet with precise, steady movements.
“Nurse,” M’Benga says, without looking up from his work. “Would you page the Captain, please, tell him I need to see him as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Chapel deposits the medical equipment she’d brought on the tray and walks briskly away, heading for the intercom to summon the Captain.
“So how’d you combat the poison?” M’Benga asks, and Leonard’s attention snaps from M’Benga’s deft fingers to his lips, which purse in concentration as he adjusts the settings on the regenerator and runs it over the injury.
“Hmm? Oh, I didn’t. A local witchdoctor did. She used a root.”
M’Benga looks up from Leonard’s arm. “A root?”
McCoy nods, flexing his arm slightly once the skin meshes and weaves together. “Mako root, she called it. Damndest thing I ever saw. Ugly, too. And it wiggled. She cut her hand open, used the injured hand to slap the root on Jim’s bite and started moaning and writhing. Then she collapsed. When I removed the root his skin was perfectly smooth, not even a scar. He woke up soon after, dazed but no longer dying.”
“All that from a plant?” M’Benga asks, picking up another hypo.
“Well I doubt very much it was her heaving bosom.”
M’Benga smiles as the hypo hisses against Leonard’s skin. “That should take care of any infections you might have picked up, but you’ll be sore for a few days, and I don’t want you stretching your arm too far while you can’t feel it.”
“Yes Doctor, whatever you say, Doctor.” McCoy rolls his eyes and scoots off the edge of the bio bed. “May I be excused, now?”
“Only if you promise to get out of that god-awful outfit as soon as possible.” M’Benga says, packing up the equipment.
Poking curiously at the pink skin around the fresh scar, Leonard murmurs, “I can’t override the voice security on you locker when I’m not on duty.”
Rolling his eyes, M’Benga stands up and ushers McCoy down a hallway towards the small medical locker room. He turns to Chapel and speaks softly. “If the Captain shows up go ahead and take some blood samples. Have them sent to the lab for a full toxicology report.” Christine nods and goes to finish cleaning up after the surgery.
When M’Benga catches up to McCoy he’s standing in front of Geoff’s locker and shivering slightly. “Cold in here with no sleeves.” He says in response to M’Benga’s raised eyebrows.
“Cold everywhere with your level of blood loss, I would imagine, I’ll give you a plasma boost before you leave.” M’Benga says, turning to the locker and enunciating clearly. “Computer, authorize secondary voice control for locker B 1.”
A disembodied voice floods the room, “Acknowledged. Awaiting secondary vocal imprint.”
Leonard is silent for a moment, but speaks finally when Geoff makes a ‘get on with it’ gesture with his hand. “Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, CMO.” He says, leaning towards the locker but not taking his eyes off M’Benga.
“Vocal imprint accepted.” The computer announces, and the locker door slides open, revealing four thick med tunics and a stack of black undershirts, as well as a medical tricorder and a few other pieces of equipment. M’Benga grabs one of the undershirts and turns to McCoy, who is trying to undo the knots tying the vest together with trembling hands. Setting the shirt back down, Geoff bats Leonard’s hands away and unties the knots for him.
“I’m not an invalid, you know.” McCoy says warily.
“You are in a mild state of shock, though.” M’Benga replies reasonably, tugging the vest off one shoulder and then the other. “Mind if I burn this?” he asks, holding the vest up disdainfully as Leonard reaches for the shirt and pulls it on, shrugging his injured arm in gingerly.
“Nope.” McCoy reaches for a med tunic but Geoff stops him.
“I think the stiff, starchy fabric might aggravate your arm.”
“Keep it warm, though.”
“Come on, Len, one more hypo and you can go.” M’Benga leads him back to the main sick bay, where Christine is holding McCoy’s medical bag in one hand and something dark and twisting in the other, looking at the writhing object with trepidation.
“Doctor McCoy?”
“Oh yeah. That’s the Mako root.” Leonard says, turning to M’Benga. “Told you it was ugly.”
“It sure is.” M’Benga leans forward and pokes it, recoiling as it squirms violently in response. “You better have that sent to the labs, too.”
Christine nods, holding one wriggling offshoot between her thumb and forefinger and keeping her arm extended in front of her as she walks away.
“Alright. Arm out.” M’Benga orders as he readies the hypo.
Leonard acquiesces and M’Benga quickly administers the plasma booster, rubbing at the cool skin of the injection spot briefly before urging McCoy towards the door. “Alright, Len, rest tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll take a look at that fidgety flower of yours.”
McCoy nods vacantly and heads towards the door. M’Benga watches him until he hits the doorway and meets with an obstacle.
“You alright, Bones?” James Kirk asks, punctuating the concern in his voice with a hand on McCoy’s shoulder.
“I’m just tired, Jim.”
The Captain and the CMO exchange a few weary words and McCoy finally escapes the medical bay as Jim steps around him to enter it.
“Oh not another one of those god-awful vests.” M’Benga laments as he directs the Captain to a bio bed.
~*~
Yep. That's about it.
Unbetad, takes place right after the ep A Private Little War.
“What the hell are you wearing?” M’Benga scrunches his nose up and looks on in mild disgust as McCoy walks into the medical bay.
McCoy glances down at the primitive vest he’d worn down to the planet. “What?” He turns and sticks out his stomach, “Does it make me look fat?”
“Nothing in this universe will ever make you look fat, Leonard. Please tell me you’re here to steal another of my jerseys, ‘cause that whole tribesman look just isn’t working.”
“I was actually hoping you could be my doctor for a little while, not my fashion consultant.” McCoy hops up on one of the bio beds and presents his wound to M’Benga. “I seem to have acquired a hole in my arm.”
“I don’t believe you people.” M’Benga slams down the PADD he’d been writing on and grabs a medical scanner, stalking over to McCoy. “Every single away mission. Every single one! Somebody comes back poisoned or stabbed or infected and now you’re getting shot.” He runs the scanner carefully over McCoy’s arm, “With actual bullets.”
“You think you could stop giving me the enraged doctor speech, which I pretty much wrote, by the way, and give me something for the pain, Geoff?” McCoy grouses, looking over at the impressive stream of blood trailing down his arm as he pulls the strap of his medical bag over his head and drops it next to the bed.
M’Benga’s look gets even darker as he plops down on a backless medical stool and retrieves a hypo from the tray Chapel had set up discreetly by the bed, “Why didn’t you dose yourself when it happened?” He walks the stool closer to the bed and adjusts Leonard’s arm slightly.
“I used all the pain meds on Jim.” Leonard watches as Geoff’s warm fingers wrap firmly around his upper harm, holding it still while he injects the local anesthetic.
“What happened to the Captain?” M’Benga asks, inspecting the wound closely, “Why isn’t he here?”
“He got bit by one of the native animals. Big albino ape lookin’ thing. Poisonous. Thought I was gonna lose him there, for a little while. You should get him down here, get a full blood work up, I wanna see if he’s got any left in his system; that was some nasty stuff.” Leonard’s voice is absent, detached, as he watches M’Benga extract the bullet with precise, steady movements.
“Nurse,” M’Benga says, without looking up from his work. “Would you page the Captain, please, tell him I need to see him as soon as possible.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Chapel deposits the medical equipment she’d brought on the tray and walks briskly away, heading for the intercom to summon the Captain.
“So how’d you combat the poison?” M’Benga asks, and Leonard’s attention snaps from M’Benga’s deft fingers to his lips, which purse in concentration as he adjusts the settings on the regenerator and runs it over the injury.
“Hmm? Oh, I didn’t. A local witchdoctor did. She used a root.”
M’Benga looks up from Leonard’s arm. “A root?”
McCoy nods, flexing his arm slightly once the skin meshes and weaves together. “Mako root, she called it. Damndest thing I ever saw. Ugly, too. And it wiggled. She cut her hand open, used the injured hand to slap the root on Jim’s bite and started moaning and writhing. Then she collapsed. When I removed the root his skin was perfectly smooth, not even a scar. He woke up soon after, dazed but no longer dying.”
“All that from a plant?” M’Benga asks, picking up another hypo.
“Well I doubt very much it was her heaving bosom.”
M’Benga smiles as the hypo hisses against Leonard’s skin. “That should take care of any infections you might have picked up, but you’ll be sore for a few days, and I don’t want you stretching your arm too far while you can’t feel it.”
“Yes Doctor, whatever you say, Doctor.” McCoy rolls his eyes and scoots off the edge of the bio bed. “May I be excused, now?”
“Only if you promise to get out of that god-awful outfit as soon as possible.” M’Benga says, packing up the equipment.
Poking curiously at the pink skin around the fresh scar, Leonard murmurs, “I can’t override the voice security on you locker when I’m not on duty.”
Rolling his eyes, M’Benga stands up and ushers McCoy down a hallway towards the small medical locker room. He turns to Chapel and speaks softly. “If the Captain shows up go ahead and take some blood samples. Have them sent to the lab for a full toxicology report.” Christine nods and goes to finish cleaning up after the surgery.
When M’Benga catches up to McCoy he’s standing in front of Geoff’s locker and shivering slightly. “Cold in here with no sleeves.” He says in response to M’Benga’s raised eyebrows.
“Cold everywhere with your level of blood loss, I would imagine, I’ll give you a plasma boost before you leave.” M’Benga says, turning to the locker and enunciating clearly. “Computer, authorize secondary voice control for locker B 1.”
A disembodied voice floods the room, “Acknowledged. Awaiting secondary vocal imprint.”
Leonard is silent for a moment, but speaks finally when Geoff makes a ‘get on with it’ gesture with his hand. “Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, CMO.” He says, leaning towards the locker but not taking his eyes off M’Benga.
“Vocal imprint accepted.” The computer announces, and the locker door slides open, revealing four thick med tunics and a stack of black undershirts, as well as a medical tricorder and a few other pieces of equipment. M’Benga grabs one of the undershirts and turns to McCoy, who is trying to undo the knots tying the vest together with trembling hands. Setting the shirt back down, Geoff bats Leonard’s hands away and unties the knots for him.
“I’m not an invalid, you know.” McCoy says warily.
“You are in a mild state of shock, though.” M’Benga replies reasonably, tugging the vest off one shoulder and then the other. “Mind if I burn this?” he asks, holding the vest up disdainfully as Leonard reaches for the shirt and pulls it on, shrugging his injured arm in gingerly.
“Nope.” McCoy reaches for a med tunic but Geoff stops him.
“I think the stiff, starchy fabric might aggravate your arm.”
“Keep it warm, though.”
“Come on, Len, one more hypo and you can go.” M’Benga leads him back to the main sick bay, where Christine is holding McCoy’s medical bag in one hand and something dark and twisting in the other, looking at the writhing object with trepidation.
“Doctor McCoy?”
“Oh yeah. That’s the Mako root.” Leonard says, turning to M’Benga. “Told you it was ugly.”
“It sure is.” M’Benga leans forward and pokes it, recoiling as it squirms violently in response. “You better have that sent to the labs, too.”
Christine nods, holding one wriggling offshoot between her thumb and forefinger and keeping her arm extended in front of her as she walks away.
“Alright. Arm out.” M’Benga orders as he readies the hypo.
Leonard acquiesces and M’Benga quickly administers the plasma booster, rubbing at the cool skin of the injection spot briefly before urging McCoy towards the door. “Alright, Len, rest tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow and we’ll take a look at that fidgety flower of yours.”
McCoy nods vacantly and heads towards the door. M’Benga watches him until he hits the doorway and meets with an obstacle.
“You alright, Bones?” James Kirk asks, punctuating the concern in his voice with a hand on McCoy’s shoulder.
“I’m just tired, Jim.”
The Captain and the CMO exchange a few weary words and McCoy finally escapes the medical bay as Jim steps around him to enter it.
“Oh not another one of those god-awful vests.” M’Benga laments as he directs the Captain to a bio bed.
~*~
Yep. That's about it.