Fic: Oh, Reckless Abandon
Title: Oh, Reckless Abandon
Author: jactrades
Written for: livelovehump
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters/Ship: Chapel/McCoy, Joanna
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for language
Wordcount: ~1,800
Prompt: I sort of smushed together all three, which included a five times fic of lost tempers when the other manged to get themselves injured, jealousy at a fancy gathering, and Joanna being a bit of a brat because, hey, kids dealing with divorce can be like that sometimes.
Summary: Four times either McCoy or Chapel got upset when the other managed to get hurt (stupidly), and one time they both got hurt and no tempers were lost at all (much).
Notes: Loved the prompts so much - thanks for the inspiration, livelovehump! And thanks to my husband for allowing himself to harangued into betaing. Title from The Temper Trap's song Sweet Disposition. Cross-posted at mccoy_chapel.
She doesn’t say, “For fuck’s sake, McCoy, it was a simple accident.” She doesn't say it, but they're three days into a five-year mission and he's already learned that his head nurse's glares can speak volumes. Even when she's perched on one of their biobeds, covered in bruises and one arm in a sling. Leonard bites back a sigh in the face of her frosty disapproval, and wishes he could retroactively bite his tongue as well.
Chapel’s partner in idiotic injuries doesn't look as shocked at his language as she does, but, then, this isn't the first time Jim has done something stupid and ended up in Medical. Jim's not grinning - Leonard has the dermal regenerator hovering millimeters from his split lip - but his eyes are still dancing in amusement from Leonard's tirade.
"Gee, Bones," he drawls out once Leonard's shifted the regenerator down to the lacerations on his neck. "I didn't know you had such colorful feelings about a few crew members - all certified in advanced combat, I might add - informally sparring with each other."
"I didn't- You're all certified?" Leonard hadn't quite realized that, but, "When I get a page from Uhura warning me to prepare for two wounded half-wits from the gym, only to find it's the captain and my head nurse who've gone and-"
Leonard cuts himself off when Jim's eyes widen slightly at the possessive that slipped in there, and shit, he didn't really need his best friend finding out about this tiny insignificant little crush he may or may not have.
Jim hoists himself up from the biobed and grabs a fresh black undershirt from a shelf. "Right, then. Time to get back to Captain-y things. Bones, I'll be sure to pass on your suggestion about where Sulu ought to, um, store his practice swords. And that bit about Cupcake, that was good. Christine..."
Leonard follows Jim's gaze to find Chapel's glare gone, replaced by giggles she's half-heartedly smothering behind her good arm.
"Yeah, Jim," she says, flashing a not very reassuring smile first at the captain, then him. "You're right. He's even better than Boyce's rants when he gets going."
"Worth the dislocated shoulder?" Jim asks, voice muffled as he pulls the shirt on.
She rolls the shoulder in question slightly, and winces. "No, Sulu still owes me for that one."
"I..." Leonard feels like he should be saying something, or asking some sort of question, but it's clear that Jim and Chapel have a history here, and suddenly he feels like the odd man out.
Jim's head emerges from the fabric with a shit-eating grin that he aims straight at Leonard. "Bones, did I ever introduce you to my hand-to-hand combat instructor?"
He gives a little jaunty nod towards the still giggling Chapel, and strides out the door.
***
All eyes in the very large ballroom swivel towards her, and Christine realizes she has never quite appreciated the lack of eyestalks on most alien species until this very moment. She feels her ears going hot as she continues to look down at Leonard chin, not quite willing to meeting his or anyone else's eyes.
"What I meant to say, Dr. McCoy, is that I think it would be best if you returned to the Enterprise for your care." Christine knows she's glowing red at this point, and, dammit, where is Janice when you need her to smooth things over?
"But what you said - or shouted, nearly," Leonard says slowly in a dangerously quiet voice, "is that this is what I get for, quote, foolishly gyrating around with the ambassador, and that you're contacting Scotty for a beam-up. Correct?"
Yes. That is exactly what she said, and not at all she'd planned to say as she'd quickly pushed her way through the packed room after his spill on the dance floor. Mindful of the eyes, she dredges up a weak smile. "Dr. McCoy, I..."
"Nurse Chapel, I have a sprained ankle, not a life-threatening injury. I also have, courtesy of our hosts, a very comfortable chair, complete with ottoman, and," his gaze shifts to somewhere behind her as he raises his voice, "the lovely ambassador returning with a bag of ice."
She doesn't need to glance over her shoulder to know that said lovely ambassador is maneuvering through the throng with both a bag of ice and a lovely, concerned expression.
"Christine." Leonard's hand brushes lightly down her arm, fingers drifting over her pulse point. "Do you see Jim here? Or Spock?"
Frowning slightly at the sudden change in topic, Christine responds in the same low tone. "What? No, Jim's allergic to half of the pollen on the planet, and this species is much too tactile for Spock to... Oh.Oh."
She's pretty sure the human body can't spontaneously combust from embarrassment, but she's giving it the ol' Fighting Phoenix Academy try.
"We can't all butter up diplomats as well as some captains, but Starfleet doesn't just give out these Lt. Commander braids to anyone, you know," Leonard murmurers with a shooing gesture and a wicked grin - one he probably learned, in point of fact, from Jim. "But remember that I'm not just a pretty face, Chapel." His hand is on her wrist again, then slowly pulls away.
"Of course, Doctor," Christine replies as she steps back into the crowd, not trying to fight her blush any longer.
***
"You what?" Christine's voice is suddenly somewhere between a growl and a hiss, which is one helluva improvement from silence in Leonard's eyes.
"I didn't think you were this stupid." He waves a hand at the mess her quarters have become. "That you would give a shit what an asshole like Korby - or whatever the hell that thing was - says."
He thinks about taking a step backward, out of arm's reach, but there's the slightest of flinches before she starts radiating a white-hot anger, and that's all Leonard needs to swing towards her instead.
"Chris, it's okay." He doesn't know where to put his hands.
"It's really, really, really fucking not."
"No."
Leonard doesn't need a psych degree to hear the world's worth of pain and guilt and anger that she picked up deep in Exo III, but he also doesn't need that psych degree to know that it'll be okay, sometime.
His hands stroke her hair as he slowly sits down on the couch, next to her.
***
"You are an idiot, Leonard McCoy," Christine says quietly as she restocks their new vaccines, calmly and efficiently. She isn't exactly sure when her voice went hoarse, but she lost her temper with his obstinate self days ago, so.
"Like hell." It's the barest of whispers, hardly louder than the hum of the biobed, and hoarser than her own scratch. It's enough.
***
"No way."
"'Fraid so, kiddo. There's even holos for evidence - your Uncle Jim's idea." Her dad raises his hand to ruffle her hair, and she lets him, because, well, he's her dad and he's here. And it's only Christine watching, anyway.
But her presence at the table just makes Joanna more curious. "How am I still here? Like, alive? How did one or both of you not end me?" Joanna loves her dad, and likes Christine plenty fine, but she's old enough to know they're not perfect. And it's not like Mom isn't reminding her constantly that her temper is "one hundred percent pure McCoy."
Christine chuckles. "Well, Starfleet frowns on officers murdering seven-year-olds, no matter the provocation." She reaches straight across Joanna's plate of pancakes to steal the orange juice, elbow up and out into Jo's face. "And there was plenty of provocation." Christine's elbow lightly bumps into her nose.
"I think I remember, um, blood?" Joanna chews a few bites of pancakes - blueberry, her favorite - and thinks. She can't remember anything from that shore leave except a perfect day at the zoo with her dad and Christine. She got Mr. Bobbles, her stuffed lion, right outside the Big Cat House after they watched the noon feeding, so it's not exactly a lie.
"Yes, blood. There was certainly plenty of that," Christine says dryly. "I was surprised you managed to break my nose without fracturing your ulna. Tough kid."
She pours out the rest of the juice, shaking the carton to get the last few drops. "I don't think it was intentional, but you didn't like me much at that point."
"What was intentional was you kicking me in the shins, then flushing Christine's engagement ring down the toilet the moment you found it in my sock drawer." Joanna tries to keep from blushing when her dad meets her eye with a smile - it's not like she can even recall any of this! - but she feels her cheeks flush all the same. She'd say she inherited it from Christine, but, well, obviously not.
She gets up instead, grabbing her suddenly empty plate. "I'm done. Didja want me to, um, clear the table?"
Her dad and Christine share an amused glance. "Feeling guilty for past misdeeds, Jo-Jo?"
"Uh, no?" She's not, really. "I just can't believe you let me get away with being such a terror, and took me to the zoo and everything. You don't," she lowers her voice as she carries her plate to the sink, "let me get away with shit, now."
"Language, Joanna." Her father quirks an eyebrow at her, and she raises one right back with a smirk, point proved. He picks up his own plate and joins her in the kitchen.
"You were - are, I mean are - such a stubborn kid. You received a time-out, a lecture, and an earlier bedtime for the rest of the week, and we all hoped that'd knock some sense into you," he says with an exaggerated sigh, knocking his hand against the top of her skull. "We only learned later that it was just misshapen bone, empty space, and lyrics to the latest atrocious songs up here."
Joanna narrows her eyes up at her dad. "Yeah, about that, actually. Why do I have a flat head?" She'd wanted to shave her head when she turned thirteen earlier in the year, but it would've looked horrible. "Did you or Mom drop me as a baby? She won't say when I ask."
"Oh. That. Jim did it when you visited me at the Academy."
"Wait, what? What? Uncle Jim? He dropped me on my head when I was three?"
"Yep, sorry kiddo." He's backing out of the kitchen, eyes wide with the innocent expression she hasn't trusted since... ever. "Not a surprise that you don't remember, what with the head dropping and everything."
"Dad." He's joking. Probably.
He grins and points at Christine, who's sitting quietly at the table, watching them and sipping her orange juice. "You can ask Christine. She was there too."
"But you guys didn't even know each other at the Academy!"
Her dad grins wider as he walks out of the room. "But Jim and Christine knew each other."
"Wait... really, Dad?"
"Dad. Seriously, I'm not a kid anymore, you can tell me the truth. How would Uncle Jim and Christine know each other?"
"Dad?"
Author: jactrades
Written for: livelovehump
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters/Ship: Chapel/McCoy, Joanna
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for language
Wordcount: ~1,800
Prompt: I sort of smushed together all three, which included a five times fic of lost tempers when the other manged to get themselves injured, jealousy at a fancy gathering, and Joanna being a bit of a brat because, hey, kids dealing with divorce can be like that sometimes.
Summary: Four times either McCoy or Chapel got upset when the other managed to get hurt (stupidly), and one time they both got hurt and no tempers were lost at all (much).
Notes: Loved the prompts so much - thanks for the inspiration, livelovehump! And thanks to my husband for allowing himself to harangued into betaing. Title from The Temper Trap's song Sweet Disposition. Cross-posted at mccoy_chapel.
She doesn’t say, “For fuck’s sake, McCoy, it was a simple accident.” She doesn't say it, but they're three days into a five-year mission and he's already learned that his head nurse's glares can speak volumes. Even when she's perched on one of their biobeds, covered in bruises and one arm in a sling. Leonard bites back a sigh in the face of her frosty disapproval, and wishes he could retroactively bite his tongue as well.
Chapel’s partner in idiotic injuries doesn't look as shocked at his language as she does, but, then, this isn't the first time Jim has done something stupid and ended up in Medical. Jim's not grinning - Leonard has the dermal regenerator hovering millimeters from his split lip - but his eyes are still dancing in amusement from Leonard's tirade.
"Gee, Bones," he drawls out once Leonard's shifted the regenerator down to the lacerations on his neck. "I didn't know you had such colorful feelings about a few crew members - all certified in advanced combat, I might add - informally sparring with each other."
"I didn't- You're all certified?" Leonard hadn't quite realized that, but, "When I get a page from Uhura warning me to prepare for two wounded half-wits from the gym, only to find it's the captain and my head nurse who've gone and-"
Leonard cuts himself off when Jim's eyes widen slightly at the possessive that slipped in there, and shit, he didn't really need his best friend finding out about this tiny insignificant little crush he may or may not have.
Jim hoists himself up from the biobed and grabs a fresh black undershirt from a shelf. "Right, then. Time to get back to Captain-y things. Bones, I'll be sure to pass on your suggestion about where Sulu ought to, um, store his practice swords. And that bit about Cupcake, that was good. Christine..."
Leonard follows Jim's gaze to find Chapel's glare gone, replaced by giggles she's half-heartedly smothering behind her good arm.
"Yeah, Jim," she says, flashing a not very reassuring smile first at the captain, then him. "You're right. He's even better than Boyce's rants when he gets going."
"Worth the dislocated shoulder?" Jim asks, voice muffled as he pulls the shirt on.
She rolls the shoulder in question slightly, and winces. "No, Sulu still owes me for that one."
"I..." Leonard feels like he should be saying something, or asking some sort of question, but it's clear that Jim and Chapel have a history here, and suddenly he feels like the odd man out.
Jim's head emerges from the fabric with a shit-eating grin that he aims straight at Leonard. "Bones, did I ever introduce you to my hand-to-hand combat instructor?"
He gives a little jaunty nod towards the still giggling Chapel, and strides out the door.
***
All eyes in the very large ballroom swivel towards her, and Christine realizes she has never quite appreciated the lack of eyestalks on most alien species until this very moment. She feels her ears going hot as she continues to look down at Leonard chin, not quite willing to meeting his or anyone else's eyes.
"What I meant to say, Dr. McCoy, is that I think it would be best if you returned to the Enterprise for your care." Christine knows she's glowing red at this point, and, dammit, where is Janice when you need her to smooth things over?
"But what you said - or shouted, nearly," Leonard says slowly in a dangerously quiet voice, "is that this is what I get for, quote, foolishly gyrating around with the ambassador, and that you're contacting Scotty for a beam-up. Correct?"
Yes. That is exactly what she said, and not at all she'd planned to say as she'd quickly pushed her way through the packed room after his spill on the dance floor. Mindful of the eyes, she dredges up a weak smile. "Dr. McCoy, I..."
"Nurse Chapel, I have a sprained ankle, not a life-threatening injury. I also have, courtesy of our hosts, a very comfortable chair, complete with ottoman, and," his gaze shifts to somewhere behind her as he raises his voice, "the lovely ambassador returning with a bag of ice."
She doesn't need to glance over her shoulder to know that said lovely ambassador is maneuvering through the throng with both a bag of ice and a lovely, concerned expression.
"Christine." Leonard's hand brushes lightly down her arm, fingers drifting over her pulse point. "Do you see Jim here? Or Spock?"
Frowning slightly at the sudden change in topic, Christine responds in the same low tone. "What? No, Jim's allergic to half of the pollen on the planet, and this species is much too tactile for Spock to... Oh.Oh."
She's pretty sure the human body can't spontaneously combust from embarrassment, but she's giving it the ol' Fighting Phoenix Academy try.
"We can't all butter up diplomats as well as some captains, but Starfleet doesn't just give out these Lt. Commander braids to anyone, you know," Leonard murmurers with a shooing gesture and a wicked grin - one he probably learned, in point of fact, from Jim. "But remember that I'm not just a pretty face, Chapel." His hand is on her wrist again, then slowly pulls away.
"Of course, Doctor," Christine replies as she steps back into the crowd, not trying to fight her blush any longer.
***
"You what?" Christine's voice is suddenly somewhere between a growl and a hiss, which is one helluva improvement from silence in Leonard's eyes.
"I didn't think you were this stupid." He waves a hand at the mess her quarters have become. "That you would give a shit what an asshole like Korby - or whatever the hell that thing was - says."
He thinks about taking a step backward, out of arm's reach, but there's the slightest of flinches before she starts radiating a white-hot anger, and that's all Leonard needs to swing towards her instead.
"Chris, it's okay." He doesn't know where to put his hands.
"It's really, really, really fucking not."
"No."
Leonard doesn't need a psych degree to hear the world's worth of pain and guilt and anger that she picked up deep in Exo III, but he also doesn't need that psych degree to know that it'll be okay, sometime.
His hands stroke her hair as he slowly sits down on the couch, next to her.
***
"You are an idiot, Leonard McCoy," Christine says quietly as she restocks their new vaccines, calmly and efficiently. She isn't exactly sure when her voice went hoarse, but she lost her temper with his obstinate self days ago, so.
"Like hell." It's the barest of whispers, hardly louder than the hum of the biobed, and hoarser than her own scratch. It's enough.
***
"No way."
"'Fraid so, kiddo. There's even holos for evidence - your Uncle Jim's idea." Her dad raises his hand to ruffle her hair, and she lets him, because, well, he's her dad and he's here. And it's only Christine watching, anyway.
But her presence at the table just makes Joanna more curious. "How am I still here? Like, alive? How did one or both of you not end me?" Joanna loves her dad, and likes Christine plenty fine, but she's old enough to know they're not perfect. And it's not like Mom isn't reminding her constantly that her temper is "one hundred percent pure McCoy."
Christine chuckles. "Well, Starfleet frowns on officers murdering seven-year-olds, no matter the provocation." She reaches straight across Joanna's plate of pancakes to steal the orange juice, elbow up and out into Jo's face. "And there was plenty of provocation." Christine's elbow lightly bumps into her nose.
"I think I remember, um, blood?" Joanna chews a few bites of pancakes - blueberry, her favorite - and thinks. She can't remember anything from that shore leave except a perfect day at the zoo with her dad and Christine. She got Mr. Bobbles, her stuffed lion, right outside the Big Cat House after they watched the noon feeding, so it's not exactly a lie.
"Yes, blood. There was certainly plenty of that," Christine says dryly. "I was surprised you managed to break my nose without fracturing your ulna. Tough kid."
She pours out the rest of the juice, shaking the carton to get the last few drops. "I don't think it was intentional, but you didn't like me much at that point."
"What was intentional was you kicking me in the shins, then flushing Christine's engagement ring down the toilet the moment you found it in my sock drawer." Joanna tries to keep from blushing when her dad meets her eye with a smile - it's not like she can even recall any of this! - but she feels her cheeks flush all the same. She'd say she inherited it from Christine, but, well, obviously not.
She gets up instead, grabbing her suddenly empty plate. "I'm done. Didja want me to, um, clear the table?"
Her dad and Christine share an amused glance. "Feeling guilty for past misdeeds, Jo-Jo?"
"Uh, no?" She's not, really. "I just can't believe you let me get away with being such a terror, and took me to the zoo and everything. You don't," she lowers her voice as she carries her plate to the sink, "let me get away with shit, now."
"Language, Joanna." Her father quirks an eyebrow at her, and she raises one right back with a smirk, point proved. He picks up his own plate and joins her in the kitchen.
"You were - are, I mean are - such a stubborn kid. You received a time-out, a lecture, and an earlier bedtime for the rest of the week, and we all hoped that'd knock some sense into you," he says with an exaggerated sigh, knocking his hand against the top of her skull. "We only learned later that it was just misshapen bone, empty space, and lyrics to the latest atrocious songs up here."
Joanna narrows her eyes up at her dad. "Yeah, about that, actually. Why do I have a flat head?" She'd wanted to shave her head when she turned thirteen earlier in the year, but it would've looked horrible. "Did you or Mom drop me as a baby? She won't say when I ask."
"Oh. That. Jim did it when you visited me at the Academy."
"Wait, what? What? Uncle Jim? He dropped me on my head when I was three?"
"Yep, sorry kiddo." He's backing out of the kitchen, eyes wide with the innocent expression she hasn't trusted since... ever. "Not a surprise that you don't remember, what with the head dropping and everything."
"Dad." He's joking. Probably.
He grins and points at Christine, who's sitting quietly at the table, watching them and sipping her orange juice. "You can ask Christine. She was there too."
"But you guys didn't even know each other at the Academy!"
Her dad grins wider as he walks out of the room. "But Jim and Christine knew each other."
"Wait... really, Dad?"
"Dad. Seriously, I'm not a kid anymore, you can tell me the truth. How would Uncle Jim and Christine know each other?"
"Dad?"