Even Moar Bones/M'Benga pre-slash
Title: The One Where Bones Isn't Talking to M'Benga, Who's Been Sexually Assaulted By a Headless Pigeon
Pairing: Bones & M'Benga (TOS)
Rating: pg for language, maybe
Summary: Pretty much the title. Also, Bones makes Tucker cry.
Notes: It's in the same universe as my first two Bones/M'Benga (Bonesenga? McBenga?) fics, only it's not as offensive 'cause my present tense phase is over. If you don't wanna read those, the only thing you need to know is Bones wears M'Benga's med jerseys sometimes 'cause it's annoyingly difficult to program his own size into the replicators.
~(*)~
A dull gray creature, about the size of a pigeon but with no discernable head, flew by the two men leaning against the shuttlecraft. It was rectangular, with short, stubby wings, and it didn’t look like it had any business flying.
“This is so much fun.” M’benga stared expressionlessly out at the vast expanse of reddish-purple wheat, squinting in the sun. “I’m really glad I got talked into going on this away mission,” he continued on in a vaguely surly monotone, “even though Doctor McCoy is fine, ‘cause his arm healed fully over a week ago. But no. I’m really, really glad that he got to stay up there. While I came down here. With all this super fantastic purple grain.”
“I think I’m going insane.” Sulu offered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’d shift back in another five minutes. Something to look forward to.
M’Benga appraised him quietly, before turning back to the flat landscape. “Mild psychosis can actually be aggravated by constant monotony.” He yawned and glanced upward, “Hey look,” he pointed to the sky, “another gray thing.”
Sulu groaned and crumpled further against the metal side of the shuttlecraft. “When are they due back again?”
“No sooner than five hours,” M’Benga sighed and closed his eyes. “Five more hours.”
His eyes were shocked open a few moments later by a screeching yowl. “Fuck was that?” He stepped closer to Sulu and searched the skies.
“I think it was one of those creepy gray things.” Sulu answered, eyes flicking across the blue skies and pale pink clouds. “There!” He pointed.
“Shit.” M’Benga bit his lip and moved even closer to Sulu. The swarm of creatures was swooping closer and closer with each pass. Another screech rang out and M’Benga grimaced and covered one of his ears, turning to Sulu as a chorus of squalls swelled. “What the hell are those things?”
“I don’t know!” Sulu shouted over the racket, fumbling with his tricorder and aiming it towards the swarm, which dove in closer than ever.
“Maybe we should get inside!”
Sulu shook his head, “I need a better reading!”
M’Benga turned back to the clustering animals just in time for one to tear past his face, inches from his nose.
“I can get a reading inside!” Sulu decided, grabbing M’Benga’s shirt and pulling him along behind him.
The last things Geoff remembered were strong fingers twisted in the fabric of his collar and a sharp, searing pain in the side of his head.
~*~
He blinked the sickbay into focus with a quiet groan. McCoy quickly appeared above him, scowling and looking up at the panel over the bed. “What happened?” Geoff ground out, voice thick and throat clicking.
“I’m not talking to you.” McCoy says, irritation written plainly across his features.
“Why not?”
“Because you went on my away mission and managed to get concussed by a headless seagull in the middle of nowhere and you nearly died because the magnetic storms flared up and the shuttle took too long to get here.”
“Oh.”
McCoy continued running a scanner over Geoff’s head. Geoff blinked some more, following McCoy’s wrist with his eyes for a few moments until figured he should say something to distract from the throbbing in his skull. “Sorry.”
“Still not talking.”
“Right.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Hmm?”
McCoy looked down and rolled his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”
He was half-way through a nod when the darkness took him once more.
~*~
When he woke a second time it was Chapel and not McCoy tending to him. He tentatively sat up and worked gentle fingers against the side of his head. “He still not talking to me?”
Christine shook her head. “Don’t think so. He stalked out of here as soon as you went back under.”
Geoff sighed.
“On the plus side, you’re free to go. Take it easy and don’t come back for a couple days.” She said, giving him a hypo for the headache and ushering him towards the door once he’d hopped down from the bed.
“Medical leave? Really?”
“Think of it more as self-preservation. He’s been very… testy, since you got back.”
He winced and gazed down the hall, turning back to Chapel with a wry smile, “Thanks Chris.”
“Yeah well, you owe me. He made Tucker cry.”
Geoff snorted and waved as he headed off down the corridor towards the mess hall, his stomach rumbling in approval.
He met Spock at the entrance to the mess. “Good evening, Doctor. You appear to be recovering well.” Spock waited for M’Benga to enter first and then followed him to the replicators.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. How’d the mission go?”
“Better than expected.” Spock answered, keying in his preferences.
M’Benga just slipped the daily special data disk in and waited to be surprised, “Really? That little fiasco with the pigeon things didn’t ruin it or anything?”
“On the contrary,” Spock said, sliding his tray of some sort of pink and turquoise vegetable medley out of the replicator, “the Machnians view the appearance of flawskeeters to be a rare and positive omen.”
M’Benga grabbed his tray without looking at it and followed Spock, “Rare? Those things were everywhere, the-”
“Ah, the man of the hour!” Jim Kirk exclaimed, waving them over, “Come join us.” Spock slid into the seat next to the Captain, which left only the spot directly across from that open. The empty seat was, of course, next to Leonard McCoy.
Geoff hesitated for a split second, but Leonard wasn’t glaring at him, so he figured it was safe for the time being. He clunked his tray down and lowered himself gingerly into the chair.
“I’d like to thank you, Doctor. Without your rather unorthodox contribution to the mission there’s every chance it would have been a disaster. As it is, we have exclusive mining rights and, should we choose to accept it, an excellently positioned tent at the big city bazaar for the next thousand years or so.” Kirk said with a smile, saluting M’Benga with his fork.
“Contri… I’m still a bit fuzzy on the details, Sir, what exactly happened?”
“Bones didn’t tell you?”
“I’m not talking to him.” McCoy said, rearranging his vegetables with his fork.
“Oh. Well. Those things, the ah, fleekbatters-”
“Flawskeeters.” Spock interrupted serenely.
Kirk nodded. “Right, those. Apparently they’re good luck to the Machnians. I don’t know why exactly they were so keen on you, but-”
“I believe they were attempting to mate.” Spock interjected once more.
M’Benga was horrified. “With my head?”
“With the shuttlecraft.”
“Oh.” M’Benga looked down at his tray. Meatloaf. Next to him, McCoy speared some broccoli with more force than was strictly necessary.
Kirk watched McCoy’s vigorous chewing for a moment before his gaze slid back to M’Benga. “So anyway, we caught the one that ran into you; it was dragging itself around in circles on the ground with one of its stumpy little wings. Clockwise, which was apparently an excellent sign. The chief and I had it for lunch.” Kirk smiled.
“Well I’m glad you had such a wonderful time yucking it up with the chief while M’Benga here was dying in the middle of a magnetic storm with no medical help whatsoever.” McCoy growled, yanking his tray from the table and prowling away.
“Wasn’t all that great.” Kirk followed McCoy’s tense back with wide eyes. He turned back to M’Benga and leaned forward conspiratorially, “Very stringy.”
Geoff nodded silently. Spock nibbled on one of his turquoise celery things. Kirk sighed contentedly and leaned back. “Well, I’ll be on the bridge if you need me, gentleman.” He drained his coffee and stood, leaving them with a nod and little half-wave.
“So.” M’Benga began, ignoring the meatloaf and mixing his sweet corn up with the mashed potatoes. “How long does Leonard usually stay mad at you guys?”
Spock cocked his head slightly and took a sip of his tea. “It varies due the perceived transgression and minute differences in the Doctor’s unfathomable ‘moods’. However, even if an accurate algorithm for predicting the Doctor’s behavior towards the Captain and I existed, I do not believe it would be reliable in regards to you.”
“Oh.” Geoff blinked. “Why?”
“He does not make a habit of wearing either the Captain’s or my clothing to work.” Spock raised an eyebrow and popped a pink lima bean into his mouth.
“Hmm? Oh that’s just- just a thing.”
“Of course.”
“It’s nothing, really, he uh… it’s just easier. ‘Cause of… Anyway. How are your vegetables?”
Spock inclined his head slightly. “Adequate.”
Geoff sniffed and twitched his nose before skewering a kernel of corn on one of his fork tines. “That’s good.”
~*~
“Sickbay to M’Benga.”
Geoff rolled over and blinked blearily at the comm speaker.
“Sickbay to Doctor M’Benga.”
Grunting slightly, Geoff rolled even further and pressed the round white button next to the speaker. “M’Benga here.” He managed, his voice low and scratching.
“Did you do something to make Leonard even angrier?”
“Chapel? What do you- No. I haven’t done anything. What happened?”
“Everything was pretty much normal. He finished Jahveri’s surgery and went to go change but less than a minute later he came stomping out of the locker room, growling. He made Tucker cry again.”
“I’m not crying! “ A faraway voice drifted over the comm. “I got something in my eye.”
Geoff thought he heard a sniffle. He sighed and sat up. “I’ll be there in a bit. Any idea where he went?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s in his office but I’m afraid to check.”
“You’re afraid to check?” Geoff raised his eyebrows.
“You’re officially off medical leave, Doctor.”
He sighed. “Yes ma’am.”
~*~
“Knock knock.” He said softly, slipping in through the door of McCoy’s office.
“What are you doing here?” McCoy asked.
“Hey! You’re talking to me.” Geoff smiled brightly
“No I’m not. What are you doing here?”
“Interference.” M’Benga said, sitting on the edge of McCoy’s desk and offering him a med tunic. “You made Tucker cry again.”
“Tucker wasn’t crying. He got something in his eye.” Leonard said, taking the jersey and running the bottom hem through his fingers.
“My locker is fully restocked.” Geoff said.
“I can get my own med tunics.” Leonard said, setting the shirt next to Geoff’s thigh on the desk.
“Yeah.” M’Benga agreed. “I kinda like it when you wear mine, though.”
Leonard looked up slowly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “Not that I’m not diggin’ the black,” Geoff continued, “but it’s not exactly up to uniform code.”
“Geoff-”
M’Benga stood up and walked to the door, turning around as he crossed the threshold. “Stop making Tucker cry.”
Leonard looked at him for a long moment. “Okay.”
~(*)~
Pairing: Bones & M'Benga (TOS)
Rating: pg for language, maybe
Summary: Pretty much the title. Also, Bones makes Tucker cry.
Notes: It's in the same universe as my first two Bones/M'Benga (Bonesenga? McBenga?) fics, only it's not as offensive 'cause my present tense phase is over. If you don't wanna read those, the only thing you need to know is Bones wears M'Benga's med jerseys sometimes 'cause it's annoyingly difficult to program his own size into the replicators.
~(*)~
A dull gray creature, about the size of a pigeon but with no discernable head, flew by the two men leaning against the shuttlecraft. It was rectangular, with short, stubby wings, and it didn’t look like it had any business flying.
“This is so much fun.” M’benga stared expressionlessly out at the vast expanse of reddish-purple wheat, squinting in the sun. “I’m really glad I got talked into going on this away mission,” he continued on in a vaguely surly monotone, “even though Doctor McCoy is fine, ‘cause his arm healed fully over a week ago. But no. I’m really, really glad that he got to stay up there. While I came down here. With all this super fantastic purple grain.”
“I think I’m going insane.” Sulu offered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’d shift back in another five minutes. Something to look forward to.
M’Benga appraised him quietly, before turning back to the flat landscape. “Mild psychosis can actually be aggravated by constant monotony.” He yawned and glanced upward, “Hey look,” he pointed to the sky, “another gray thing.”
Sulu groaned and crumpled further against the metal side of the shuttlecraft. “When are they due back again?”
“No sooner than five hours,” M’Benga sighed and closed his eyes. “Five more hours.”
His eyes were shocked open a few moments later by a screeching yowl. “Fuck was that?” He stepped closer to Sulu and searched the skies.
“I think it was one of those creepy gray things.” Sulu answered, eyes flicking across the blue skies and pale pink clouds. “There!” He pointed.
“Shit.” M’Benga bit his lip and moved even closer to Sulu. The swarm of creatures was swooping closer and closer with each pass. Another screech rang out and M’Benga grimaced and covered one of his ears, turning to Sulu as a chorus of squalls swelled. “What the hell are those things?”
“I don’t know!” Sulu shouted over the racket, fumbling with his tricorder and aiming it towards the swarm, which dove in closer than ever.
“Maybe we should get inside!”
Sulu shook his head, “I need a better reading!”
M’Benga turned back to the clustering animals just in time for one to tear past his face, inches from his nose.
“I can get a reading inside!” Sulu decided, grabbing M’Benga’s shirt and pulling him along behind him.
The last things Geoff remembered were strong fingers twisted in the fabric of his collar and a sharp, searing pain in the side of his head.
~*~
He blinked the sickbay into focus with a quiet groan. McCoy quickly appeared above him, scowling and looking up at the panel over the bed. “What happened?” Geoff ground out, voice thick and throat clicking.
“I’m not talking to you.” McCoy says, irritation written plainly across his features.
“Why not?”
“Because you went on my away mission and managed to get concussed by a headless seagull in the middle of nowhere and you nearly died because the magnetic storms flared up and the shuttle took too long to get here.”
“Oh.”
McCoy continued running a scanner over Geoff’s head. Geoff blinked some more, following McCoy’s wrist with his eyes for a few moments until figured he should say something to distract from the throbbing in his skull. “Sorry.”
“Still not talking.”
“Right.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Hmm?”
McCoy looked down and rolled his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”
He was half-way through a nod when the darkness took him once more.
~*~
When he woke a second time it was Chapel and not McCoy tending to him. He tentatively sat up and worked gentle fingers against the side of his head. “He still not talking to me?”
Christine shook her head. “Don’t think so. He stalked out of here as soon as you went back under.”
Geoff sighed.
“On the plus side, you’re free to go. Take it easy and don’t come back for a couple days.” She said, giving him a hypo for the headache and ushering him towards the door once he’d hopped down from the bed.
“Medical leave? Really?”
“Think of it more as self-preservation. He’s been very… testy, since you got back.”
He winced and gazed down the hall, turning back to Chapel with a wry smile, “Thanks Chris.”
“Yeah well, you owe me. He made Tucker cry.”
Geoff snorted and waved as he headed off down the corridor towards the mess hall, his stomach rumbling in approval.
He met Spock at the entrance to the mess. “Good evening, Doctor. You appear to be recovering well.” Spock waited for M’Benga to enter first and then followed him to the replicators.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. How’d the mission go?”
“Better than expected.” Spock answered, keying in his preferences.
M’Benga just slipped the daily special data disk in and waited to be surprised, “Really? That little fiasco with the pigeon things didn’t ruin it or anything?”
“On the contrary,” Spock said, sliding his tray of some sort of pink and turquoise vegetable medley out of the replicator, “the Machnians view the appearance of flawskeeters to be a rare and positive omen.”
M’Benga grabbed his tray without looking at it and followed Spock, “Rare? Those things were everywhere, the-”
“Ah, the man of the hour!” Jim Kirk exclaimed, waving them over, “Come join us.” Spock slid into the seat next to the Captain, which left only the spot directly across from that open. The empty seat was, of course, next to Leonard McCoy.
Geoff hesitated for a split second, but Leonard wasn’t glaring at him, so he figured it was safe for the time being. He clunked his tray down and lowered himself gingerly into the chair.
“I’d like to thank you, Doctor. Without your rather unorthodox contribution to the mission there’s every chance it would have been a disaster. As it is, we have exclusive mining rights and, should we choose to accept it, an excellently positioned tent at the big city bazaar for the next thousand years or so.” Kirk said with a smile, saluting M’Benga with his fork.
“Contri… I’m still a bit fuzzy on the details, Sir, what exactly happened?”
“Bones didn’t tell you?”
“I’m not talking to him.” McCoy said, rearranging his vegetables with his fork.
“Oh. Well. Those things, the ah, fleekbatters-”
“Flawskeeters.” Spock interrupted serenely.
Kirk nodded. “Right, those. Apparently they’re good luck to the Machnians. I don’t know why exactly they were so keen on you, but-”
“I believe they were attempting to mate.” Spock interjected once more.
M’Benga was horrified. “With my head?”
“With the shuttlecraft.”
“Oh.” M’Benga looked down at his tray. Meatloaf. Next to him, McCoy speared some broccoli with more force than was strictly necessary.
Kirk watched McCoy’s vigorous chewing for a moment before his gaze slid back to M’Benga. “So anyway, we caught the one that ran into you; it was dragging itself around in circles on the ground with one of its stumpy little wings. Clockwise, which was apparently an excellent sign. The chief and I had it for lunch.” Kirk smiled.
“Well I’m glad you had such a wonderful time yucking it up with the chief while M’Benga here was dying in the middle of a magnetic storm with no medical help whatsoever.” McCoy growled, yanking his tray from the table and prowling away.
“Wasn’t all that great.” Kirk followed McCoy’s tense back with wide eyes. He turned back to M’Benga and leaned forward conspiratorially, “Very stringy.”
Geoff nodded silently. Spock nibbled on one of his turquoise celery things. Kirk sighed contentedly and leaned back. “Well, I’ll be on the bridge if you need me, gentleman.” He drained his coffee and stood, leaving them with a nod and little half-wave.
“So.” M’Benga began, ignoring the meatloaf and mixing his sweet corn up with the mashed potatoes. “How long does Leonard usually stay mad at you guys?”
Spock cocked his head slightly and took a sip of his tea. “It varies due the perceived transgression and minute differences in the Doctor’s unfathomable ‘moods’. However, even if an accurate algorithm for predicting the Doctor’s behavior towards the Captain and I existed, I do not believe it would be reliable in regards to you.”
“Oh.” Geoff blinked. “Why?”
“He does not make a habit of wearing either the Captain’s or my clothing to work.” Spock raised an eyebrow and popped a pink lima bean into his mouth.
“Hmm? Oh that’s just- just a thing.”
“Of course.”
“It’s nothing, really, he uh… it’s just easier. ‘Cause of… Anyway. How are your vegetables?”
Spock inclined his head slightly. “Adequate.”
Geoff sniffed and twitched his nose before skewering a kernel of corn on one of his fork tines. “That’s good.”
~*~
“Sickbay to M’Benga.”
Geoff rolled over and blinked blearily at the comm speaker.
“Sickbay to Doctor M’Benga.”
Grunting slightly, Geoff rolled even further and pressed the round white button next to the speaker. “M’Benga here.” He managed, his voice low and scratching.
“Did you do something to make Leonard even angrier?”
“Chapel? What do you- No. I haven’t done anything. What happened?”
“Everything was pretty much normal. He finished Jahveri’s surgery and went to go change but less than a minute later he came stomping out of the locker room, growling. He made Tucker cry again.”
“I’m not crying! “ A faraway voice drifted over the comm. “I got something in my eye.”
Geoff thought he heard a sniffle. He sighed and sat up. “I’ll be there in a bit. Any idea where he went?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s in his office but I’m afraid to check.”
“You’re afraid to check?” Geoff raised his eyebrows.
“You’re officially off medical leave, Doctor.”
He sighed. “Yes ma’am.”
~*~
“Knock knock.” He said softly, slipping in through the door of McCoy’s office.
“What are you doing here?” McCoy asked.
“Hey! You’re talking to me.” Geoff smiled brightly
“No I’m not. What are you doing here?”
“Interference.” M’Benga said, sitting on the edge of McCoy’s desk and offering him a med tunic. “You made Tucker cry again.”
“Tucker wasn’t crying. He got something in his eye.” Leonard said, taking the jersey and running the bottom hem through his fingers.
“My locker is fully restocked.” Geoff said.
“I can get my own med tunics.” Leonard said, setting the shirt next to Geoff’s thigh on the desk.
“Yeah.” M’Benga agreed. “I kinda like it when you wear mine, though.”
Leonard looked up slowly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “Not that I’m not diggin’ the black,” Geoff continued, “but it’s not exactly up to uniform code.”
“Geoff-”
M’Benga stood up and walked to the door, turning around as he crossed the threshold. “Stop making Tucker cry.”
Leonard looked at him for a long moment. “Okay.”
~(*)~