FIC: something more than nothing (1/3)
Title: something more than nothing
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: G
Word Count: 693
Characters: Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel
Continuity: Set during the Academy Years.
Summary: Response to this prompt at mccoy_chapel. Three part short story in which Chapel and McCoy deal with the something more than nothing between them.
Notes: This part told from Chapel's perspective.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
(pimped to mccoy_chapel, st_reboot, trek_het and trekfics)
It wasn't the perfect night-- far from it, actually. Christine's roommate brought back yet another boy (seriously-- this was it; one way or the other she was getting her own damn room next semester) and, while Rhia hadn't insisted on having the room to herself, Christine had serious studying to do. (It was Wednesday; seriously what the hell?) So, with a bag full of PADDs, she schlepped out in the misty San Francisco night.
Semester crunch time was just beginning and Christine was intent on getting top marks. Even so, the library was barely half-full that evening. She selected a table near the back and began to meticulously unload her things. (It was very important to her that everything be where it belonged; she didn't care to dissect why, though she suspected it had something to do with the mysteriously mussed up bed she'd come home to on a few occasions before she got wise to her fiancé's extracurricular activities.)
Christine didn't know how much time passed between when she began reviewing case studies and when he sat down at her table but the interruption wasn't entirely unwelcome. She quirked an eyebrow at the stranger, glancing around and noting that there were no longer any empty tables left.
The man-- a few years her senior, she suspected, judging by the wrinkles near his eyes-- shrugged. "My roommate decided to, ah, entertain this evening; hope you don't mind," he said in a distinctly Southern drawl.
A small snort escaped Christine before she could stop it. "You too, huh?" She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "I'm determined to get my own quarters next semester."
"Good luck to you," he offered with a smirk that didn't look half bad on him. He offered his hand-- "Leonard McCoy."
Christine gave it a healthy shake. "Christine Chapel." They shared a smile before each turning their attention to their own studying. It wasn't much of anything but it was something all the same.
The rest of the semester whipped by at warp speed. Christine kept studying in the library-- she really didn't have much of a choice and, more often than not, she'd run into McCoy. He'd usually join her and they'd share companionable silence. A few times they even took study breaks together, chatting a bit here and there.
Christine found out McCoy was divorced, a doctor, six years her elder but also a year behind her at the Academy, had an inexplicable fondness for the mint julep and suffered from aviophobia-- something she found hilariously ironic. Likewise, she told him about her failed engagement, her nursing training, that her favorite holiday was Mardi Gras and had two older brothers.
They weren't friends, exactly, but they were more than acquaintances. Christine suspected they were something else all together, though she had no idea what that something might be. (He was handsome but so very broken and she wasn't looking for a project, especially with her own trust issues.) Mostly she just didn't think about it; things were safer that way.
Back in Louisiana for the summer, Christine didn't think of McCoy-- much. It mostly only happened when something reminded her of him. Or she ran into a Georgian. Or when she let her mind wander for long enough. But it wasn't much of anything, really. Not even something. (Or so she told herself.)
They didn't correspond and the next year Christine got her own room. She didn't frequent the library much at all anymore but only because she really needed silence to study and the library rarely had that, thought-- honest. (She almost believed that, too.) And the few times she saw McCoy, she always had somewhere to be, so it was always a quick wave and rushing off.
In May Christine graduated at the top of her class and was assigned to work at Starfleet Medical for a year while they finished construction on the Enterprise. She didn't see McCoy again after that, and she didn't think about that-- or him-- much at all. Really. Just the occasional stray thought or daydream. (And, hey, he was quite the fine male specimen, so who could blame her?)
onto part two
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: G
Word Count: 693
Characters: Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel
Continuity: Set during the Academy Years.
Summary: Response to this prompt at mccoy_chapel. Three part short story in which Chapel and McCoy deal with the something more than nothing between them.
Notes: This part told from Chapel's perspective.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of CBS/Gene Roddenberry. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue.
(pimped to mccoy_chapel, st_reboot, trek_het and trekfics)
It wasn't the perfect night-- far from it, actually. Christine's roommate brought back yet another boy (seriously-- this was it; one way or the other she was getting her own damn room next semester) and, while Rhia hadn't insisted on having the room to herself, Christine had serious studying to do. (It was Wednesday; seriously what the hell?) So, with a bag full of PADDs, she schlepped out in the misty San Francisco night.
Semester crunch time was just beginning and Christine was intent on getting top marks. Even so, the library was barely half-full that evening. She selected a table near the back and began to meticulously unload her things. (It was very important to her that everything be where it belonged; she didn't care to dissect why, though she suspected it had something to do with the mysteriously mussed up bed she'd come home to on a few occasions before she got wise to her fiancé's extracurricular activities.)
Christine didn't know how much time passed between when she began reviewing case studies and when he sat down at her table but the interruption wasn't entirely unwelcome. She quirked an eyebrow at the stranger, glancing around and noting that there were no longer any empty tables left.
The man-- a few years her senior, she suspected, judging by the wrinkles near his eyes-- shrugged. "My roommate decided to, ah, entertain this evening; hope you don't mind," he said in a distinctly Southern drawl.
A small snort escaped Christine before she could stop it. "You too, huh?" She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "I'm determined to get my own quarters next semester."
"Good luck to you," he offered with a smirk that didn't look half bad on him. He offered his hand-- "Leonard McCoy."
Christine gave it a healthy shake. "Christine Chapel." They shared a smile before each turning their attention to their own studying. It wasn't much of anything but it was something all the same.
The rest of the semester whipped by at warp speed. Christine kept studying in the library-- she really didn't have much of a choice and, more often than not, she'd run into McCoy. He'd usually join her and they'd share companionable silence. A few times they even took study breaks together, chatting a bit here and there.
Christine found out McCoy was divorced, a doctor, six years her elder but also a year behind her at the Academy, had an inexplicable fondness for the mint julep and suffered from aviophobia-- something she found hilariously ironic. Likewise, she told him about her failed engagement, her nursing training, that her favorite holiday was Mardi Gras and had two older brothers.
They weren't friends, exactly, but they were more than acquaintances. Christine suspected they were something else all together, though she had no idea what that something might be. (He was handsome but so very broken and she wasn't looking for a project, especially with her own trust issues.) Mostly she just didn't think about it; things were safer that way.
Back in Louisiana for the summer, Christine didn't think of McCoy-- much. It mostly only happened when something reminded her of him. Or she ran into a Georgian. Or when she let her mind wander for long enough. But it wasn't much of anything, really. Not even something. (Or so she told herself.)
They didn't correspond and the next year Christine got her own room. She didn't frequent the library much at all anymore but only because she really needed silence to study and the library rarely had that, thought-- honest. (She almost believed that, too.) And the few times she saw McCoy, she always had somewhere to be, so it was always a quick wave and rushing off.
In May Christine graduated at the top of her class and was assigned to work at Starfleet Medical for a year while they finished construction on the Enterprise. She didn't see McCoy again after that, and she didn't think about that-- or him-- much at all. Really. Just the occasional stray thought or daydream. (And, hey, he was quite the fine male specimen, so who could blame her?)
onto part two