Shore Leave (5/9) (McCoy/Chapel, Reboot)
Title: Shore Leave
For: djinnfic for the mccoy_chapel Exchange ‘09
Author: esme_green
Pairing: Kirk/Chapel/McCoy
Rating: Adult (sexual situations M/F, M/F/M, M/M (only a hint of the latter, sorry))
Prompt/Notes: In Part One.
********
McCoy groaned as the first drops hit his skin.
"You've got to be kidding." Even Jim sounded annoyed.
All three of their backpacks started beeping, the small communicators provided by the resort telling them that their current location was on a floodplain.
"It's just a little rain." He tried not to make it sound like a whine.
"Come on," Chapel said, with some of the steel in her voice that made her an excellent head nurse. "For all we know, this waterfall is already building up to a tidal wave."
Jim was already packing away the blanket. "Besides, the faster we get to the evac site, the faster we get home."
That was logic McCoy couldn't argue with. But still--so close, damn it. She'd come back, spent the afternoon with them, leaned into his touch...Jim had been right all along. Damn changeable alien weather.
Their training took over then, the backpack communicators pointing them along a different upward route towards higher ground. Five minutes after they started, the rain was pouring down like a tap, drenching them to the skin.
Another forty minutes of truly miserable and sometimes treacherous terrain went by before they finally found the clearing on the plateau where the evacuation site was supposed to be. No craft were in sight, but a bright orange light flashed like a beacon in the storm. All three of them were out of breath as they hurried over.
Then they saw what the orange light was attached to. A tiny building, hardly bigger than a sonic shower stall, which would definitely not fit all three of them. Jim palmed the door and laughed as he saw what was inside.
A short-range site-to-site transporter. "Hell, no," said McCoy. "I don't trust the damn Starfleet ones; you think I trust a planetful of purple tripeds with five-hundred-year-old cable cars?"
Jim laughed, but Chapel had apparently run out of patience. "You can stay here then," she said, slipping past him and into the booth. The computer asked for her backpack communicator and she plugged it into the slot provided. "It recognizes me! It has my cabin number and every--"
The rest of her words were drowned out by the sound of the transporter activating, whisking her away.
"Well?" said Jim as the noise and shimmer died away. "Are you going to chase her, or what?"
"Damn it." He hesitated for a few seconds, but as usual, there was no other choice. Pushing past his friend and into the booth, he plugged in his communicator the way Chapel had, and was hardly reassured when the computer displayed his name. "If this scrambles my electrons into next week, I'm--"
The transporter put him in the entryway of his chalet. "--blaming you." He palmed the overhead light and stepped forward. "Chapel?"
No answer.
"Christine?" Jim materialized behind him. "Where is she?"
McCoy caught the viewscreen blinking out of the corner of his eye and saw his head nurse standing in her own entryway, waving. "Hi," she said sheepishly. "They beamed me back to my place automatically." Her eyes focused on the padd beside her viewscreen. "I think the shuttles have stopped running until after the storm." She looked down at herself and visibly shuddered. "Okay. I'm going to get out of these wet clothes and take a hot bath. Sorry the afternoon got cut short."
The viewscreen went dark again.
"Damn it."
Jim's choice of words was even less polite.
Continued in Part Six
For: djinnfic for the mccoy_chapel Exchange ‘09
Author: esme_green
Pairing: Kirk/Chapel/McCoy
Rating: Adult (sexual situations M/F, M/F/M, M/M (only a hint of the latter, sorry))
Prompt/Notes: In Part One.
********
McCoy groaned as the first drops hit his skin.
"You've got to be kidding." Even Jim sounded annoyed.
All three of their backpacks started beeping, the small communicators provided by the resort telling them that their current location was on a floodplain.
"It's just a little rain." He tried not to make it sound like a whine.
"Come on," Chapel said, with some of the steel in her voice that made her an excellent head nurse. "For all we know, this waterfall is already building up to a tidal wave."
Jim was already packing away the blanket. "Besides, the faster we get to the evac site, the faster we get home."
That was logic McCoy couldn't argue with. But still--so close, damn it. She'd come back, spent the afternoon with them, leaned into his touch...Jim had been right all along. Damn changeable alien weather.
Their training took over then, the backpack communicators pointing them along a different upward route towards higher ground. Five minutes after they started, the rain was pouring down like a tap, drenching them to the skin.
Another forty minutes of truly miserable and sometimes treacherous terrain went by before they finally found the clearing on the plateau where the evacuation site was supposed to be. No craft were in sight, but a bright orange light flashed like a beacon in the storm. All three of them were out of breath as they hurried over.
Then they saw what the orange light was attached to. A tiny building, hardly bigger than a sonic shower stall, which would definitely not fit all three of them. Jim palmed the door and laughed as he saw what was inside.
A short-range site-to-site transporter. "Hell, no," said McCoy. "I don't trust the damn Starfleet ones; you think I trust a planetful of purple tripeds with five-hundred-year-old cable cars?"
Jim laughed, but Chapel had apparently run out of patience. "You can stay here then," she said, slipping past him and into the booth. The computer asked for her backpack communicator and she plugged it into the slot provided. "It recognizes me! It has my cabin number and every--"
The rest of her words were drowned out by the sound of the transporter activating, whisking her away.
"Well?" said Jim as the noise and shimmer died away. "Are you going to chase her, or what?"
"Damn it." He hesitated for a few seconds, but as usual, there was no other choice. Pushing past his friend and into the booth, he plugged in his communicator the way Chapel had, and was hardly reassured when the computer displayed his name. "If this scrambles my electrons into next week, I'm--"
The transporter put him in the entryway of his chalet. "--blaming you." He palmed the overhead light and stepped forward. "Chapel?"
No answer.
"Christine?" Jim materialized behind him. "Where is she?"
McCoy caught the viewscreen blinking out of the corner of his eye and saw his head nurse standing in her own entryway, waving. "Hi," she said sheepishly. "They beamed me back to my place automatically." Her eyes focused on the padd beside her viewscreen. "I think the shuttles have stopped running until after the storm." She looked down at herself and visibly shuddered. "Okay. I'm going to get out of these wet clothes and take a hot bath. Sorry the afternoon got cut short."
The viewscreen went dark again.
"Damn it."
Jim's choice of words was even less polite.
Continued in Part Six