Season's Greetings, ECHOINAUTUMN!
Title: Four Times McCoy Calls Carol Marcus Sweetheart
Author: katmarajade
Written for: echoinautumn
Pairing: Bones/Carol
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1081
Prompt: starting over
Summary: I think the title sort of says it all in this case …
Notes: Thanks, bb, for giving me this prompt. This is actually a story I'd been wanting to write but needed a push to do so. Hope it fits the bill.
Disclaimer: There are many schools of thoughts on the use of pet names/terms of endearment. This is a lot of my personal views on it and also a scenario that I think (hope!) my lovely giftee will appreciate. If you disagree with Carol's reactions/choices, that's absolutely fine, but please no comment lectures. I have and always will be a wank-free journal. *nods*
The first time he calls her sweetheart is during the away mission to the planetoid where they need to open a torpedo larger than the two of them combined filled with an unknown, potentially deadly fuel source. She ignores him in light of the mission's urgency, keeping her instructions terse and clear. His legendary hand gets stuck in the activated torpedo, her last ditch Hail Mary to disarm it works, they find a cryogenically frozen 300-year-old man, and she forgets about the unwelcome pet name until later.
He finds her after the whole horrible mess is over. She's alone in a bed at Starfleet Medical Building 16 in San Francisco, her leg reset and the bones knitted. Her mind races with images of her father-his betrayal, his face when he saw her on the Enterprise, the sight of his horrible death at the hands of a monster. They're mixed in with the sounds of explosions and the sights of her comrades falling into flame and drifting into icy black. He has to call her name twice before she notices him standing there.
"Doctor," she says flatly, too overwhelmed to put on airs or waste time with social niceties.
"I wanted to thank you for saving my life on that Godforsaken planetoid back there. It was very noble, even if it was a stupid-ass thing to do. Anyway, it was my kind of stupid and I'm very grateful still to be here."
"You're not very good at apologies, Dr McCoy, but I accept all the same. You're welcome. And it wasn't stupid-I knew more about that torpedo than anyone else on board, except Khan, of course, but he's insane."
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to trust your expert judgment on that one, sweetheart. I am not ashamed to admit that I was terrified myself."
She gives him a dark look and says very plainly, "Do not call me sweetheart. It is rude, condescending, inappropriate, and it undermines my hard-earned authority as a Starfleet officer. Do you understand?"
Dr McCoy looks shocked and almost amused, which grates at her, but she keeps her face neutral.
"Yes, ma'am," he says. She makes a face and he nods. "Dr Marcus. Thank you again. It's been … enlightening."
He leaves and she can't tell if a word of her request got through that smoky, Southern smoothness of his.
The next time she sees him, he's all business and so is the time after that. It's easier and she almost forgets about it until she hears that molasses thick drawl calling one of her ensigns darlin' and later sweetheart.
That bothers her more than she wants to admit. She hates the demeaning use of diminutives aimed at women. She's never been "sweet" and the only time she thinks she'd be comfortable with a pet name like that would be from someone … intimate. Very intimate. Not a fellow officer who only sees a pretty woman in a blue dress instead of a doctor and scholar in a respectable uniform.
Dr McCoy works with her on one project then two, and it is comfortable, which should surprise her a bit, except that it somehow, strangely, doesn't. There are no more misplaced sweethearts and he speaks with her as an equal instead of a Lieutenant grade damsel in distress. They even become friends, in a manner of speaking.
They share a few meals when their schedules coincide on projects and joke around a bit. He's funny and cares too much about everything. She enjoys his grouchiness now, and she even teases him about it at times.
It's … nice.
The third time he calls her sweetheart she's unconscious, barely cognizant of the words being muttered around her. She's lying on a biobed in sickbay in a medically-induced coma. She remembers an accident with one of her weapons diagnostics and now everything is dark and hot, but she can hear people moving around, trays clinking, valves hissing. Above all of that, she can hear a familiar, gruff voice talking to her in low, soothing tones.
"You need to stop scaring us like that. It's time to get better. I can fix you up, but it's your job to wake up. So hurry up and mend, sweetheart, because we need you back."
She momentarily thinks to scold him, but it is different this time, now that he knows her; it's somehow sweeter, and maybe she'll let it slide just this once. Then another wave of sleepiness washes over her and she fades to black again.
Even once she's back on her feet, full recovery from a serious injury takes time. For weeks, she visits Dr McCoy every other day for tests and rehabilitation exercises. Even with the frustration and pain, he makes her laugh. Their senses of humor complement each other, and she laughs more than she can remember laughing in years. He's easy to talk to, and their sessions drag on longer than necessary as they talk about their personal demons and how they both know they belong on the Enterprise, but deep down they'd never have made this life their first choice.
The change happens so gradually, she almost doesn't notice at first. The closeness and friendship deepen and one day it shifts profoundly. They attempt a few conversations to discuss it, like good scientists should, but they're both relieved when they seem to be on the same page and quickly abandon the effort to qualify it. Despite the glacial slowness of the change and how long it takes her to realize it, much less accept it, they become something more. She likens it to a Venn diagram; the Marcus and McCoy circles are both still there but there's now a Marcus & McCoy part, too. At first she can't ignore it, and then she doesn't want to ignore it.
Shortly thereafter, the expanded, gossip-filled report about her father comes out based on the heavily redacted documents Starfleet made public. Although she thought she'd dealt with the feelings, they swarm back in force. As ever, Dr McCoy is right there, comforting her. He holds her and mutters a litany of stupid phrases, the words that are supposed to make it better. Even his irritable tone is somehow endearing. He slips and she hears him call her sweetheart.
Before she has time to react, he winces and tries to apologize. She is very still for a moment, thinking about her choice; she feels good about it.
"Things have changed. I don't mind endearments in private from someone I'm … close to," she says. "I'll make you an offer. You can call me sweetheart if,"
He looks at her warily.
"If I'm the only one," she finishes. "You can decide if you want to call random women sweetheart and darling or if you would like to use the endearments with me. I will be your sweetheart, but I refuse to be referred to by the same designations as dozens of others."
He purses his lips. "No others?"
"That's right."
"Give me an exception for my daughter and you've got yourself a deal."
Carol grins. "I find your terms acceptable, Doctor."
"You really can call me Leonard, sweetheart."
She grins.
Author: katmarajade
Written for: echoinautumn
Pairing: Bones/Carol
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1081
Prompt: starting over
Summary: I think the title sort of says it all in this case …
Notes: Thanks, bb, for giving me this prompt. This is actually a story I'd been wanting to write but needed a push to do so. Hope it fits the bill.
Disclaimer: There are many schools of thoughts on the use of pet names/terms of endearment. This is a lot of my personal views on it and also a scenario that I think (hope!) my lovely giftee will appreciate. If you disagree with Carol's reactions/choices, that's absolutely fine, but please no comment lectures. I have and always will be a wank-free journal. *nods*
The first time he calls her sweetheart is during the away mission to the planetoid where they need to open a torpedo larger than the two of them combined filled with an unknown, potentially deadly fuel source. She ignores him in light of the mission's urgency, keeping her instructions terse and clear. His legendary hand gets stuck in the activated torpedo, her last ditch Hail Mary to disarm it works, they find a cryogenically frozen 300-year-old man, and she forgets about the unwelcome pet name until later.
He finds her after the whole horrible mess is over. She's alone in a bed at Starfleet Medical Building 16 in San Francisco, her leg reset and the bones knitted. Her mind races with images of her father-his betrayal, his face when he saw her on the Enterprise, the sight of his horrible death at the hands of a monster. They're mixed in with the sounds of explosions and the sights of her comrades falling into flame and drifting into icy black. He has to call her name twice before she notices him standing there.
"Doctor," she says flatly, too overwhelmed to put on airs or waste time with social niceties.
"I wanted to thank you for saving my life on that Godforsaken planetoid back there. It was very noble, even if it was a stupid-ass thing to do. Anyway, it was my kind of stupid and I'm very grateful still to be here."
"You're not very good at apologies, Dr McCoy, but I accept all the same. You're welcome. And it wasn't stupid-I knew more about that torpedo than anyone else on board, except Khan, of course, but he's insane."
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to trust your expert judgment on that one, sweetheart. I am not ashamed to admit that I was terrified myself."
She gives him a dark look and says very plainly, "Do not call me sweetheart. It is rude, condescending, inappropriate, and it undermines my hard-earned authority as a Starfleet officer. Do you understand?"
Dr McCoy looks shocked and almost amused, which grates at her, but she keeps her face neutral.
"Yes, ma'am," he says. She makes a face and he nods. "Dr Marcus. Thank you again. It's been … enlightening."
He leaves and she can't tell if a word of her request got through that smoky, Southern smoothness of his.
The next time she sees him, he's all business and so is the time after that. It's easier and she almost forgets about it until she hears that molasses thick drawl calling one of her ensigns darlin' and later sweetheart.
That bothers her more than she wants to admit. She hates the demeaning use of diminutives aimed at women. She's never been "sweet" and the only time she thinks she'd be comfortable with a pet name like that would be from someone … intimate. Very intimate. Not a fellow officer who only sees a pretty woman in a blue dress instead of a doctor and scholar in a respectable uniform.
Dr McCoy works with her on one project then two, and it is comfortable, which should surprise her a bit, except that it somehow, strangely, doesn't. There are no more misplaced sweethearts and he speaks with her as an equal instead of a Lieutenant grade damsel in distress. They even become friends, in a manner of speaking.
They share a few meals when their schedules coincide on projects and joke around a bit. He's funny and cares too much about everything. She enjoys his grouchiness now, and she even teases him about it at times.
It's … nice.
The third time he calls her sweetheart she's unconscious, barely cognizant of the words being muttered around her. She's lying on a biobed in sickbay in a medically-induced coma. She remembers an accident with one of her weapons diagnostics and now everything is dark and hot, but she can hear people moving around, trays clinking, valves hissing. Above all of that, she can hear a familiar, gruff voice talking to her in low, soothing tones.
"You need to stop scaring us like that. It's time to get better. I can fix you up, but it's your job to wake up. So hurry up and mend, sweetheart, because we need you back."
She momentarily thinks to scold him, but it is different this time, now that he knows her; it's somehow sweeter, and maybe she'll let it slide just this once. Then another wave of sleepiness washes over her and she fades to black again.
Even once she's back on her feet, full recovery from a serious injury takes time. For weeks, she visits Dr McCoy every other day for tests and rehabilitation exercises. Even with the frustration and pain, he makes her laugh. Their senses of humor complement each other, and she laughs more than she can remember laughing in years. He's easy to talk to, and their sessions drag on longer than necessary as they talk about their personal demons and how they both know they belong on the Enterprise, but deep down they'd never have made this life their first choice.
The change happens so gradually, she almost doesn't notice at first. The closeness and friendship deepen and one day it shifts profoundly. They attempt a few conversations to discuss it, like good scientists should, but they're both relieved when they seem to be on the same page and quickly abandon the effort to qualify it. Despite the glacial slowness of the change and how long it takes her to realize it, much less accept it, they become something more. She likens it to a Venn diagram; the Marcus and McCoy circles are both still there but there's now a Marcus & McCoy part, too. At first she can't ignore it, and then she doesn't want to ignore it.
Shortly thereafter, the expanded, gossip-filled report about her father comes out based on the heavily redacted documents Starfleet made public. Although she thought she'd dealt with the feelings, they swarm back in force. As ever, Dr McCoy is right there, comforting her. He holds her and mutters a litany of stupid phrases, the words that are supposed to make it better. Even his irritable tone is somehow endearing. He slips and she hears him call her sweetheart.
Before she has time to react, he winces and tries to apologize. She is very still for a moment, thinking about her choice; she feels good about it.
"Things have changed. I don't mind endearments in private from someone I'm … close to," she says. "I'll make you an offer. You can call me sweetheart if,"
He looks at her warily.
"If I'm the only one," she finishes. "You can decide if you want to call random women sweetheart and darling or if you would like to use the endearments with me. I will be your sweetheart, but I refuse to be referred to by the same designations as dozens of others."
He purses his lips. "No others?"
"That's right."
"Give me an exception for my daughter and you've got yourself a deal."
Carol grins. "I find your terms acceptable, Doctor."
"You really can call me Leonard, sweetheart."
She grins.