FIC: something more than nothing (2/3)
Title: something more than nothing
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: PG-13 (maybe)
Word Count: 1269
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel; McCoy/Chapel
Continuity: Set during the Academy Years and up through the aftermath of the Narada incident.
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 is from McCoy'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)
back to part one
Leonard McCoy didn't pine, damn it, but he did have regrets-- plenty of regrets. (A few even including another cadet named Chapel.)
There'd been moments-- more than one-- when he'd just thought, To hell with it! and been ready to kiss her. But then she'd look at him with those big, wide eyes and he knew it wasn't right. They were both too broken; it'd never work. Better to just keep what they had (whatever it was-- if it even was anything at all).
And then one day she'd been gone. He'd woken up and it was summertime and he was back in Georgia-- miserable, of course-- but more so because Chapel was so far away. (Louisiana wasn't that far, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Jim pointed out but he put those thoughts from his mind. It wouldn't be polite and he might be a cranky ass, but McCoy was also a gentleman.)
He'd kept going to the library the first few months back at the Academy but Chapel was nowhere to be seen. Eventually McCoy ran into her on campus but she flew out of there so fast he wondered if the year before hadn't been some sort of elaborate fantasy. She just seemed so... unsettled. They hadn't been especially close, sure, but that reaction was unexpected, to say the least.
McCoy decided to put it out of his mind. (Easier said than done.) When he saw the holos of graduation at the end of the year, he felt a pang deep within his gut. Christine looked beautiful and he realized he was an idiot. All that time spend letting himself be afraid-- letting her be scared, too.
And for what? There was something there, he knew there was. Something ill-defined and confusing but it was real and that was all that really mattered. But now she was gone-- probably off in some star system somewhere and he might never see her again. (Yes, he'd gone to therapy for his aviophobia but it was hardly gone, just more manageable.)
Well. McCoy knew there was nothing he could do about that but if he saw her again? He didn't know what he'd do but it'd be something more than nothing, that much he was sure of.
When he got on board the Enterprise, he didn't notice Chapel at first. No, that wasn't true. McCoy definitely noticed Jim trying to hit on her and how she ducked her head as if trying to hide from him. (Though which him she wanted to hide from, he couldn't be certain of.)
He was distracted and frazzled, though, and had far too many things to think about just then-- not least important his friend who was somewhat ill thanks to him. Once Jim was out, McCoy turned his mind to the job. The job was the important thing right then. There'd be time for the rest of it later.
Of course, McCoy didn't know then that later wouldn't be until after Jim Kirk pulled off the near-impossible against the Romulans and saved Earth. The Enterprise was receiving a tow back to Earth (because they really didn't need to take a few years in impulse when they could make it in a few days in slow warp) and the crew was picking up the pieces.
McCoy called Chapel into what was, at least for now, his office-- because she'd inherited the Head Nurse position much like he had become Chief Medical Officer-- to fix the shift rotations before things got any messier than they already were. (Which was pretty messy, honestly, seeing as they were short-staffed, overworked and stuck with more responsibility than they were probably ready for.)
They worked steadily for a good forty minutes before Chapel's stomach let out an unexpectedly loud rumbling noise. McCoy looked at her, eyebrow quirked in his signature way. "When was the last time you ate anything?" he asked, studying her-- as in really looking-- for the first time. There were dark smudges under her eyes and she was a shade paler than he remembered. McCoy wondered if he looked similar; he must, he decided-- there was no way he didn't look at least as rough for the wear.
"I don't know," Chapel admitted with a sigh. She put the PADD she'd been typing into down on his desk and slouched into her chair. "This is the first time I've even sat down in--" She blinked. "Yeah, don't remember that, either."
McCoy scowled. "You're going to the mess now." It wasn't a suggestion. "And then to your quarters for at least four hours sleep." He'd prefer more-- at least eight, really-- but he figured that'd be pushing it. She looked poised to object, so he added: "Don't make me order you, Chapel, because I will." His expression softened a little, though, when caught her gaze and saw concern mixed in with her indignant glare. "This place won't fall apart without you-- promise."
Chapel sighed again but stood up all the same. "Fine. But you're coming with me." This time McCoy was going to disagree but there was a fire in her gaze that shut him up right quick. "I can order you, too, y'know," she told him in a casual way that told him she'd do it if she felt it was necessary.
"So you can," McCoy agreed, moving a bit clumsily to his feet. (Was it his fault she had legs that went on forever and they were a big distracting? No. And he was tired, anyway, so he really couldn't be faulted for such things.) "Guess I better do as you say, then, huh?"
Grinning widely, Chapel nodded. "Yup. In fact, if you can pretty much always do that, I don't think we'll have any problems working together."
McCoy snorted. "Mm, you would think that." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, scratching his chin absently. (He definitely needed a shave.) "Pretty sure it's supposed to go the other way, though."
"And you would think that," she teased back with a roll of her eyes.
It wasn't until McCoy was walking Chapel to her quarters after a pleasant meal that he realized three things: (1) this was the longest amount of time they'd spent together in a friendly capacity since the Academy, (2) he didn't want it to end, and (3) he was a miserable coward because he still hadn't said word one to her about the something more than nothing between them.
Chapel's quarters were her own, though not as large or nice as his, and he paused as she typed in her code. The doors swished open and she was two steps inside before she turned to face him again, eyebrows furrowed.
McCoy felt instantly self-conscious, something he couldn't recall happening since he was in primary school. "What?"
"Thought I told you that you were coming with me," she said with a pointed look. McCoy stared at her, dumbfounded. "Come on then. How else am I going to be certain you get at least four hours of sleep?"
Trailing after her despite lingering surprise, McCoy managed to smirk. "You don't trust me?"
Chapel snorted. "Not about this." She sat on her bed and pulled off her boots before laying down. He wondered if it meant anything that she left him the right, which he'd always considered his side. "Don't forget that I know you, McCoy-- you'd live in that sickbay if you could."
As he lay down beside her, McCoy didn't bother correcting her. (He couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be right then than where he was.)
onto part three
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: PG-13 (maybe)
Word Count: 1269
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel; McCoy/Chapel
Continuity: Set during the Academy Years and up through the aftermath of the Narada incident.
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 is from McCoy'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)
back to part one
Leonard McCoy didn't pine, damn it, but he did have regrets-- plenty of regrets. (A few even including another cadet named Chapel.)
There'd been moments-- more than one-- when he'd just thought, To hell with it! and been ready to kiss her. But then she'd look at him with those big, wide eyes and he knew it wasn't right. They were both too broken; it'd never work. Better to just keep what they had (whatever it was-- if it even was anything at all).
And then one day she'd been gone. He'd woken up and it was summertime and he was back in Georgia-- miserable, of course-- but more so because Chapel was so far away. (Louisiana wasn't that far, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Jim pointed out but he put those thoughts from his mind. It wouldn't be polite and he might be a cranky ass, but McCoy was also a gentleman.)
He'd kept going to the library the first few months back at the Academy but Chapel was nowhere to be seen. Eventually McCoy ran into her on campus but she flew out of there so fast he wondered if the year before hadn't been some sort of elaborate fantasy. She just seemed so... unsettled. They hadn't been especially close, sure, but that reaction was unexpected, to say the least.
McCoy decided to put it out of his mind. (Easier said than done.) When he saw the holos of graduation at the end of the year, he felt a pang deep within his gut. Christine looked beautiful and he realized he was an idiot. All that time spend letting himself be afraid-- letting her be scared, too.
And for what? There was something there, he knew there was. Something ill-defined and confusing but it was real and that was all that really mattered. But now she was gone-- probably off in some star system somewhere and he might never see her again. (Yes, he'd gone to therapy for his aviophobia but it was hardly gone, just more manageable.)
Well. McCoy knew there was nothing he could do about that but if he saw her again? He didn't know what he'd do but it'd be something more than nothing, that much he was sure of.
When he got on board the Enterprise, he didn't notice Chapel at first. No, that wasn't true. McCoy definitely noticed Jim trying to hit on her and how she ducked her head as if trying to hide from him. (Though which him she wanted to hide from, he couldn't be certain of.)
He was distracted and frazzled, though, and had far too many things to think about just then-- not least important his friend who was somewhat ill thanks to him. Once Jim was out, McCoy turned his mind to the job. The job was the important thing right then. There'd be time for the rest of it later.
Of course, McCoy didn't know then that later wouldn't be until after Jim Kirk pulled off the near-impossible against the Romulans and saved Earth. The Enterprise was receiving a tow back to Earth (because they really didn't need to take a few years in impulse when they could make it in a few days in slow warp) and the crew was picking up the pieces.
McCoy called Chapel into what was, at least for now, his office-- because she'd inherited the Head Nurse position much like he had become Chief Medical Officer-- to fix the shift rotations before things got any messier than they already were. (Which was pretty messy, honestly, seeing as they were short-staffed, overworked and stuck with more responsibility than they were probably ready for.)
They worked steadily for a good forty minutes before Chapel's stomach let out an unexpectedly loud rumbling noise. McCoy looked at her, eyebrow quirked in his signature way. "When was the last time you ate anything?" he asked, studying her-- as in really looking-- for the first time. There were dark smudges under her eyes and she was a shade paler than he remembered. McCoy wondered if he looked similar; he must, he decided-- there was no way he didn't look at least as rough for the wear.
"I don't know," Chapel admitted with a sigh. She put the PADD she'd been typing into down on his desk and slouched into her chair. "This is the first time I've even sat down in--" She blinked. "Yeah, don't remember that, either."
McCoy scowled. "You're going to the mess now." It wasn't a suggestion. "And then to your quarters for at least four hours sleep." He'd prefer more-- at least eight, really-- but he figured that'd be pushing it. She looked poised to object, so he added: "Don't make me order you, Chapel, because I will." His expression softened a little, though, when caught her gaze and saw concern mixed in with her indignant glare. "This place won't fall apart without you-- promise."
Chapel sighed again but stood up all the same. "Fine. But you're coming with me." This time McCoy was going to disagree but there was a fire in her gaze that shut him up right quick. "I can order you, too, y'know," she told him in a casual way that told him she'd do it if she felt it was necessary.
"So you can," McCoy agreed, moving a bit clumsily to his feet. (Was it his fault she had legs that went on forever and they were a big distracting? No. And he was tired, anyway, so he really couldn't be faulted for such things.) "Guess I better do as you say, then, huh?"
Grinning widely, Chapel nodded. "Yup. In fact, if you can pretty much always do that, I don't think we'll have any problems working together."
McCoy snorted. "Mm, you would think that." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, scratching his chin absently. (He definitely needed a shave.) "Pretty sure it's supposed to go the other way, though."
"And you would think that," she teased back with a roll of her eyes.
It wasn't until McCoy was walking Chapel to her quarters after a pleasant meal that he realized three things: (1) this was the longest amount of time they'd spent together in a friendly capacity since the Academy, (2) he didn't want it to end, and (3) he was a miserable coward because he still hadn't said word one to her about the something more than nothing between them.
Chapel's quarters were her own, though not as large or nice as his, and he paused as she typed in her code. The doors swished open and she was two steps inside before she turned to face him again, eyebrows furrowed.
McCoy felt instantly self-conscious, something he couldn't recall happening since he was in primary school. "What?"
"Thought I told you that you were coming with me," she said with a pointed look. McCoy stared at her, dumbfounded. "Come on then. How else am I going to be certain you get at least four hours of sleep?"
Trailing after her despite lingering surprise, McCoy managed to smirk. "You don't trust me?"
Chapel snorted. "Not about this." She sat on her bed and pulled off her boots before laying down. He wondered if it meant anything that she left him the right, which he'd always considered his side. "Don't forget that I know you, McCoy-- you'd live in that sickbay if you could."
As he lay down beside her, McCoy didn't bother correcting her. (He couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be right then than where he was.)
onto part three