FIC: something more than nothing (3/3)
Title: something more than nothing
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: PG-13 (maybe)
Word Count: 786
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel; McCoy/Chapel
Continuity: Set during 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 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)
back to part two
The first thing Christine became aware of as her mind returned to consciousness was an arm slung possessively over her stomach and a warm body spooning her from behind. Hazy memories from hours before flooded her and her face flushed a brilliant red. Oh God, had she just committed career and social suicide in one fell swoop?
Because she had to be certifiable to have done what she did, right? Honestly! She'd essentially ordered Leonard McCoy-- who was just about the most confusing man she knew and now her boss to boot!-- to come sleep with her. Just sleep, thank God, but still! Not Christine's finest moment of self-control-- or thinking things through.
Of course, if she thought about, Christine could admit that thinking may have been her problem with Leonard McCoy all along. But she wasn't thinking about that. No, she was thinking about how overtiredness was the same-- or worse-- than being drunk when it came to decision making. That could be the only explanation. Really. Because she was so over the nothing with McCoy, it wasn't even funny.
(Although his body did feel nice, pressed against her. God, she was an idiot. And that arm? She liked how it felt around her. Idiot!)
Christine sighed quietly then pulled away just far enough that she could roll over to look at the man. She was momentarily startled by how close together they were but it passed quickly. She noted they were both still fully dressed (minus their boots, of course), though her uniform had begun bunching at the bottom. She tugged at the edges of her skirt until some semblance of propriety (ha!) had returned.
When her gaze flicked back up, she saw a pair of brown eyes watching her. Christine flushed instantly. Apparently her fidgeting had woken the good doctor. "Hi," was all she could think to offer.
"Hi." McCoy reached forward and tucked some loose blonde hair behind her ear. He let his hand trail along her jaw and she couldn't think of anything except how warm it was against her skin. "I'm going to kiss you now," he told her, voice barely above a whisper.
Christine still couldn't think of a response. McCoy must've taken her silence as an affirmative, though, because he shifted forward and touched his lips to hers. Despite the fact that her brain still didn't seem to be working beyond instinctual levels, she returned the kiss. It was sweet and gentle and all together lovely.
When they pulled apart, Christine looked at McCoy with wide eyes. "We probably shouldn't do that again," she whispered, fighting the urge to touch her lips. (They were still tingling. Why were they still tingling?)
"Probably not," McCoy agreed in a tone that somehow mirrored everything she was feeling.
They stared at each other for a long minute and then suddenly, as if some kind of force were propelling them both, they crashed together again in a mixture of lips and limbs. There was a flurry of movements between them to be rid of their bothersome uniforms as each of them kissed, licked and nipped hungrily at the other.
Laying naked (and satisfied) beneath the covers beside Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel again wondered if she'd just committed career and social suicide. (And if she really cared as much as she probably ought to.) "We probably shouldn't do that again, either," she said with a sigh. Because she honestly wouldn't mind doing it again-- a few dozen (or maybe hundred?) times, even.
"Maybe." Leonard (because he couldn't be McCoy anymore; that wasn't right) was looking at her, she could feel his gaze.
Christine took a breath and turned to look at him too. (She hated that he was so damn handsome and all she wanted to do was kiss him until she forgot which was up and that this was a really, really bad idea.) "I don't-- we have careers to think about. Is it really worth risking them over this..." she waved her hands between them, "whatever it is."
The expression on his face was unreadable as he watched her and Christine could feel her resolve weakening. "I mean, it might turn out to be nothing. And we still have to work together, right?" For at least a little while, anyway.
Leonard nodded slowly. "It might be nothing..." he agreed slowly and it struck her how much it hurt to hear the words confirmed, "or it might be everything."
A slow grin bloomed on Christine's face and she leaned her head forward so their foreheads were touching. "You willing to take that gamble, McCoy?"
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Hell yes."
Christine could feel herself practically glowing. "Good answer."
Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)
Rating: PG-13 (maybe)
Word Count: 786
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel; McCoy/Chapel
Continuity: Set during 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 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)
back to part two
The first thing Christine became aware of as her mind returned to consciousness was an arm slung possessively over her stomach and a warm body spooning her from behind. Hazy memories from hours before flooded her and her face flushed a brilliant red. Oh God, had she just committed career and social suicide in one fell swoop?
Because she had to be certifiable to have done what she did, right? Honestly! She'd essentially ordered Leonard McCoy-- who was just about the most confusing man she knew and now her boss to boot!-- to come sleep with her. Just sleep, thank God, but still! Not Christine's finest moment of self-control-- or thinking things through.
Of course, if she thought about, Christine could admit that thinking may have been her problem with Leonard McCoy all along. But she wasn't thinking about that. No, she was thinking about how overtiredness was the same-- or worse-- than being drunk when it came to decision making. That could be the only explanation. Really. Because she was so over the nothing with McCoy, it wasn't even funny.
(Although his body did feel nice, pressed against her. God, she was an idiot. And that arm? She liked how it felt around her. Idiot!)
Christine sighed quietly then pulled away just far enough that she could roll over to look at the man. She was momentarily startled by how close together they were but it passed quickly. She noted they were both still fully dressed (minus their boots, of course), though her uniform had begun bunching at the bottom. She tugged at the edges of her skirt until some semblance of propriety (ha!) had returned.
When her gaze flicked back up, she saw a pair of brown eyes watching her. Christine flushed instantly. Apparently her fidgeting had woken the good doctor. "Hi," was all she could think to offer.
"Hi." McCoy reached forward and tucked some loose blonde hair behind her ear. He let his hand trail along her jaw and she couldn't think of anything except how warm it was against her skin. "I'm going to kiss you now," he told her, voice barely above a whisper.
Christine still couldn't think of a response. McCoy must've taken her silence as an affirmative, though, because he shifted forward and touched his lips to hers. Despite the fact that her brain still didn't seem to be working beyond instinctual levels, she returned the kiss. It was sweet and gentle and all together lovely.
When they pulled apart, Christine looked at McCoy with wide eyes. "We probably shouldn't do that again," she whispered, fighting the urge to touch her lips. (They were still tingling. Why were they still tingling?)
"Probably not," McCoy agreed in a tone that somehow mirrored everything she was feeling.
They stared at each other for a long minute and then suddenly, as if some kind of force were propelling them both, they crashed together again in a mixture of lips and limbs. There was a flurry of movements between them to be rid of their bothersome uniforms as each of them kissed, licked and nipped hungrily at the other.
Laying naked (and satisfied) beneath the covers beside Leonard McCoy, Christine Chapel again wondered if she'd just committed career and social suicide. (And if she really cared as much as she probably ought to.) "We probably shouldn't do that again, either," she said with a sigh. Because she honestly wouldn't mind doing it again-- a few dozen (or maybe hundred?) times, even.
"Maybe." Leonard (because he couldn't be McCoy anymore; that wasn't right) was looking at her, she could feel his gaze.
Christine took a breath and turned to look at him too. (She hated that he was so damn handsome and all she wanted to do was kiss him until she forgot which was up and that this was a really, really bad idea.) "I don't-- we have careers to think about. Is it really worth risking them over this..." she waved her hands between them, "whatever it is."
The expression on his face was unreadable as he watched her and Christine could feel her resolve weakening. "I mean, it might turn out to be nothing. And we still have to work together, right?" For at least a little while, anyway.
Leonard nodded slowly. "It might be nothing..." he agreed slowly and it struck her how much it hurt to hear the words confirmed, "or it might be everything."
A slow grin bloomed on Christine's face and she leaned her head forward so their foreheads were touching. "You willing to take that gamble, McCoy?"
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Hell yes."
Christine could feel herself practically glowing. "Good answer."