[McCoy and Angela; closed]
In the three years McCoy had spend with Jim, only McCoy's 28th celebration had ever gone well. And even that had been completely by accident; Jim had looked absolutely pathetic trying to stop McCoy's various wounds from bleeding while simultaneously filling out a PADD with all Bones' personal information. The nurse who took pity on them and did all the paperwork had happened to be incredibly busty. In fact, that was one of the only memories McCoy still had of the night. Jim elbowing him constantly in the ribs that weren't bruised, trying to subtley jerk his chin to where she sat bent over the pad. As if Bones had needed his friend to notice the very generous eyeful they were being given. They spent a good part of Bones' remaining moments conscious trying not to openly stare.
But that particular perk of his birthday evening was completely not Jim's doing at all-- sure, later Bones was surprised to find a phone number written on the back of his hand, and he was pretty sure Jim had done all the charming as he'd been unconcious most of the trip. Yet, the way Jim told it, he might as well have invented sexy nurses one night on the barren Iowa plains. McCoy knew better: as a doctor, he was all too aware of the appeal of those nurses uniforms, and he'd been a doctor longer than Jim had been chasing skirts. He'd done the math.
Between their years they'd had over fifty birthdays, and neither one had ever had a happy one yet. So it only figured, at the Academy, to keep with tradition and wake up feeling shitty rather than wait for life to deliver the blows. After the first year's disaster and sexy-yet-painful hospital trip, they both agreed: birthdays were days for feigning illness, sleeping in, and getting completely shit-faced until you passed out again.
Unfortunately, they were now responsible adults on a starship.
Which meant, if they were going to pull it off, it would take a lot more planning.
~~~
You've really outdone yourself this time, Mccoy, he told himself for the hundredth time just on the walk down to her quarters. This is just sheer humiliation. Why would you have ever thought this was a good idea?
With a ruck pack slung over his back and a terrible scowl on his face, he wrapped his knuckles hard on the Ensign's door, absolutely sure he'd regret this more than he already did.
But that particular perk of his birthday evening was completely not Jim's doing at all-- sure, later Bones was surprised to find a phone number written on the back of his hand, and he was pretty sure Jim had done all the charming as he'd been unconcious most of the trip. Yet, the way Jim told it, he might as well have invented sexy nurses one night on the barren Iowa plains. McCoy knew better: as a doctor, he was all too aware of the appeal of those nurses uniforms, and he'd been a doctor longer than Jim had been chasing skirts. He'd done the math.
Between their years they'd had over fifty birthdays, and neither one had ever had a happy one yet. So it only figured, at the Academy, to keep with tradition and wake up feeling shitty rather than wait for life to deliver the blows. After the first year's disaster and sexy-yet-painful hospital trip, they both agreed: birthdays were days for feigning illness, sleeping in, and getting completely shit-faced until you passed out again.
Unfortunately, they were now responsible adults on a starship.
Which meant, if they were going to pull it off, it would take a lot more planning.
~~~
You've really outdone yourself this time, Mccoy, he told himself for the hundredth time just on the walk down to her quarters. This is just sheer humiliation. Why would you have ever thought this was a good idea?
With a ruck pack slung over his back and a terrible scowl on his face, he wrapped his knuckles hard on the Ensign's door, absolutely sure he'd regret this more than he already did.