star trek xi fic: lady madonna [chapel, mccoy and kirk, pg]
lady madonna. star trek xi, pg, 557 words.
“Hey,” McCoy says. “Remember that part where I’m CMO and get to pull rank on you without getting any lip in return? Meet Jim Kirk.” Written for prompt "age regression" at cliche_bingo.
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Christine Chapel is doing inventory at her station in sickbay when McCoy stomps over to her, looking harried.
“Hey,” McCoy says. “Remember that part where I’m CMO and get to pull rank on you without getting any lip in return? Meet Jim Kirk.”
Chapel barely looks up from her padd when she says, “Yes, thanks, we’ve met, I endure his charming company practically daily thanks to his unhealthy predilection for falling off things,” but then McCoy steps aside and her eyes grow huge. “Oh, hell no,” she says.
“Mind your language,” McCoy says, “there are impressionable young minds present.”
The child positively swimming in command gold at McCoy’s side stares at her sullenly with big blue eyes.
“I… oh, honey. I don’t do children,” Chapel says, looking vaguely queasy.
“You are a nurse, woman,” McCoy says, eyebrows raised dramatically, “we in Starfleet do not discriminate based on age or any other factor. You can handle looking after one child for a few hours, one child who is your captain, might I add, I think it’s in your best interests to keep him alive while the brains up on the bridge try and clear up this mess, don’t you?”
Chapel glares. “Yes,” she says, standing up with her padd clutched defensively against her chest, “I am a nurse, not a babysitter, and if he gets hurt or comes down with some debilitating alien disease I will fix him up, I will laugh and revel in the karmic powers of the universe but then I will fix him up but until that happens no, I am a Starfleet officer, I am Head Nurse on this ship and I am very busy looking after your sickbay and there are plenty more kindly nurturing types on staff and get back here do not walk away from me McCoy - ”
But McCoy has already backed away into his office and locked the door and is mouthing exaggeratedly and gesturing at his ears and shrugging his shoulders through the clear soundproof walls.
She seethes for a moment, then looks down at Kirk.
“So,” she says awkwardly. “Uh. How’re you doing, kid.”
Kirk snarls, kicks her in the shins, and runs away.
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After fifteen minutes Kirk has managed to upend Chapel’s entire inventory of vaccines and has handily hacked her personal database to scramble all her patient files and is currently dangling from his fingertips at the top of her supply wall, a hypo clenched between his teeth.
“Join Starfleet,” Chapel mutters, “see the universe, my ass,” and she rolls up her tunic sleeves and begins to climb after him.
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“Good God, Chapel,” McCoy says, his hands over his eyes, “you did not lock him up, tell me you did not physically confine and sedate the captain because he was being cranky.”
“Of course not,” Chapel says. “No. Maybe.”
Kirk stirs on the biobed, one hand swiping sleepily at his flushed cheeks, and Chapel shoves McCoy in the chest and pushes him back from the forcefield frantically, eyes wild -
“Do not wake him up do not wake him up oh my God I will never forgive you.”
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Two days later, when everything’s fixed and Kirk’s back to normal, he doesn’t remember a thing - which everyone figures is probably for the best; they don’t enlighten him as to the particulars of the incident.