Fic: Barstool Mountain, Chapter 2A
Author’s Note: For those of you unfamiliar with your beer, that contest was so unfair because Sam Adams’ Triple Bock has an alcohol content of about seventeen percent, while Budweiser’s is about five percent. Couple that with the fact that Kirk is younger and fitter, AND that McCoy had a decent head start, it was never really much of a contest to being with. Sucks to be the doctor, don’t it?
As McCoy might say, “Good god, man!” I really, really did try to keep this to a ten page one-shot. But, I have this somewhat psychotic need to connect everything and make it flow. Then, Pike decided he wanted a bigger role in this story, and he wouldn’t shut up until I acquiesced. I mean, the man’s an Admiral, so it’s not like I can say no. Now, without further adieu, chapter 2, otherwise know as the, “Morning after the night before.” Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. I own just a very overactive muse and a whacked sense of humor, neither of which you’ll get if you sue me.
Chapter 2
Captain Christopher Pike walked briskly into his office at 0600. Like most Wednesday mornings, he started early with a cup of coffee (regular, of course), a bagel (plain, extra cream cheese), and the latest news from the Federation on the video feed while he skimmed the various academic and discipline reports from the past week. Beginning with the mundane, Pike looked over progress reports from the cadets who were in the clutches of academic difficulties. He divided them into two piles: those showing progress, and those who needed a swift kick in the ass.
The next step was reading all the behavior reports from the various MPs and resident advisors throughout the campus. He sighed. The end of the semester usually meant one of two things: one, the level of needed discipline would plummet because classes were through, or two, the level of needed discipline would rise sharply simply because classes were done. There never seemed to a third direction. Mostly, the reports ranged from the mundane fight to the hilarious odd occurrence, and back to the strictly unbelievable. The only thing each incident had in common was that they all generally made Pike shake his head in disbelief at the rampant stupidity among some of the universe’s brightest minds.
Digitally thumbing through the reports, Pike glanced over the regulation broken and the cadet’s name. Most were first time incidents and likely to never to be punished again, but others were repeat offenders, some on their respective ways out the door. Like the academic discipline reports, Pike divided the incident summaries into two categories as well. The cadets who’d never had trouble would get the requisite ‘Come to Jesus’ lecture to scare them straight; the habitual troublemakers would likely not be so fortunate. Strangely, the Captain didn’t see a discipline report mentioning James Kirk once. That in and of itself was an odd occurrence, but perhaps the cadet was turning over a new leaf.
Pike internally rolled his eyes. Kirk will keep himself out of trouble when hell freezes over. ‘You’ll do well to remember that you brought him here, Chris. If he’s a pain in your ass, whose fault is that?’ he mentally questioned himself.
Halfway through the list, Chris literally spit out his coffee and dropped the PADD in total shock. Cursing, he picked the small device up and wiped it with a napkin from his morning bagel. The screen clear, Pike looked again. The name and the infractions remained the same.
‘McCoy, Leonard H. Infractions 601.24 and 587.59. Cadet escorted to brig for observation and possible medical assistance.’
With gentleness he didn’t normally display, Pike put the PADD down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands together behind his head. Mentally, he checked the regulations and the associated numbers for the fifth time. Pike knew the regs like the back of his hand, and had, in fact, memorized them. There was no way he could be wrong, but then how could that report be right? ‘Public intoxication and…streaking?’ the captain thought.
A deep ridge formed on Pike’s face, the man deep in thought. This had to be some sort of a joke. The captain knew that both McCoy and Kirk were sources of envy around campus when compared to the other cadets. Most coveted Kirk for his charm, wit and as it turned out, his brains, and McCoy because of the MD already attached to his name. Both men had done exceptionally well in the past two years, placing at the top of their class in their respective fields, despite the appearance that they were both aloof and uncaring. Apparently, one of the side effects of doing well was unwanted, unwarranted, jealous attention.
Kirk, the people person, had very little trouble deflecting the negativity. Those who couldn’t be dissuaded by his charm ultimately met the business end of his fist or his intellect. The introverted doctor, on the other hand, hadn’t been so fortunate. A solid decade plus a few of years older than most of the cadets, Bones had very little in common with his peers. He also didn’t go out of his way to try and get to know them on anything more than a passing familiarity or in a professional sense. Add on top of that the fact of McCoy’s wonderfully stunning personality, and it equated to quite a bit of hazing from the student body. Perhaps this was just another attempt to smear what was McCoy’s exceptional record through the mud, and to be completely honest, Pike was sick of dealing with the juvenile entrapment of a few jealous cadets.
The captain hit the comm button on his speaker.
“Yes, Captain Pike?” Gloria Stuart, Pike’s yeoman answered.
“Could you get Commander Rowe in here please?”
“Right away, sir. What can I tell him it’s regarding?”
“Just tell him I need to see him about a discipline report he filed early this morning.”
Ten minutes later, a young commander in Academy black stood in front of Pike’s desk. His expression feigned a forced neutrality and professional calm. A deeper look revealed a nervousness in his eyes, one which said he didn’t know what warranted being dragged into a captain’s office this early on Wednesday morning, especially when he’d just come off duty for the night. The young man was worried, plain and simple. Before he could let any more of his emotion leak through his facial expression, Rowe composed himself and asked, “What can I do for you today, sir?”
Pike held up the PADD with Rowe’s report. He was not in the mood for this crap this early on Wednesday morning, though he couldn’t imagine what anyone would have on the Academy’s Chief of Security large enough to rope him into helping on this particular stunt. Tossing the PADD to Rowe, Pike asked, “Is this report accurate, Commander? Because if this is some idea of a joke, I swear I will shove your head out your ass so fast, you won’t even have time to smell your own shit.”
The young Commander analyzed the angry expression on Pike’s face and wisely bit his tongue to cut off the indignant remark he felt coming on. Instead, he took the PADD to read the report. Rowe’s brows furrowed as he read and he shook his head back and forth. His expression darkened briefly before taking on a neutral quality once again. Before he spoke, the Commander raised his eyes to make contact with his superior. “No joke, sir. Everything in the report is completely accurate and personally witnessed by not only my team, but myself.”
Leaning in on his elbows, Pike narrowed his eyes. Though his anger had ebbed, he still wanted to be very, very clear. “Son, you mean to tell me that every event, place, time and most specifically, every name, is correct?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
The captain’s gaze was incredulous. “Leonard McCoy,” Pike began, “Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, the man who I thought had a three foot long rod wedged permanently up his ass for the last two years, got drunk and went streaking through campus last night?”
Rowe nodded dumbly. “I couldn’t believe it, either, sir. When we finally stopped him, he almost got away from my team and me because we were all so shocked when we figured out who it was.” The nervous man looked down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “And then we discovered the doctor is stronger than he looks, sir.”
“Well, considering the man nearly failed hand to hand, I’d suggest you go over a refresher course with your people. If a guy who needed Jim Kirk’s barroom brawling expertise to pass a basic self-defense course could inflict this much damage on them, maybe you’re not doing something right” Pike admonished. “They need to learn to treat every situation individually, and not to go into a fight with preconceived notions about the skill of their opponent.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve already written out a training schedule to address that issue. There will not be a repeat of this, Captain. On that, I can assure you,” Rowe succinctly replied, clearly embarrassed that his people were bested by a doctor who could barely fight his way out of wet paper bag a year previous.
Pike shifted leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his fist. He believed Rowe. The man had an excellent reputation as an MP and his expressions and actions were genuine. The captain felt a bit of a smile begin to tug at his face and the laughter start to form in the pit of his stomach. He stamped both urges down as quickly as they came, for he would not laugh in the presence of a subordinate, especially when it could be potentially damaging to another cadet’s ability to lead.
Schooling his features to passivity again, Pike lowered his voice and said, “All right, Commander. I believe you. Thank you for the report. You’re dismissed.”
“Sir.” Rowe straightened up to attention and about-faced to walk out the door.
As soon as the door to his office clicked closed, Pike gave in to urge that was threatening to boil over. “Well I’ll be god dammed,” Pike said, tossing the stylus on the desktop. The laugh started as just a bubble of a chuckle rising up to the top, its escape unintentional. But before long, the Academy Captain found himself clutching the PADD detailing McCoy’s outlandish night and laughing his ass off.
After a beat to calm himself and to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes Pike hit the comm button again. “Gloria, get me the brig and tell them to send Dr. McCoy over here. An escort isn’t necessary. I trust him.”
“An escort?” A pause. “Sir, doesn’t Dr. McCoy work over at the hospital?”
“Yes, he does, but right now he’s a guest of the brig, not an employee. Can you see that he makes his way over here, please?”
Gloria stuttered. “Guest of the-- Ye--Yes, sir.”
The captain smirked as he imagined the obvious befuddled look that was likely all over his yeoman’s face.
Pike busied himself by reading the rest of the reports while he waited for the doctor to show up. He found that he had to physically suppress the urge the laugh and smile when his brain inadvertently rolled back to his latest source of amusement. The report was simply too funny and Pike only hoped he could hold it together long enough to keep himself from literally laughing in McCoy’s face. It was always the quiet ones that surprised the hell out of him, and Leonard McCoy was turning out to be no exception.
It was in those few minutes of waiting during which Captain Christopher Pike came to the conclusion that, sometimes, being the resident Starfleet Academy Czar of Discipline wasn’t such a boring job after all.
========
Consciousness came back to McCoy slowly, his brain still fuzzy and sluggish. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and could hear the blood rushing through his veins. The doctor knew he was lying on the ground, for the cold of cement seeped through his skin and down to his core. Slowly, he cracked one eye open, only to be rewarded as the sunlight tried to viciously stab a hole through the back of his skull. Snapping his eyes closed again, McCoy heard a distant, strangled moan. It took him a second to realize the moan came from him.
Bones flexed his fingers and wrists. He was apparently lying face down on his stomach, one cheek resting on the cement. McCoy felt some wetness around the corner of his mouth and realized embarrassingly that his cheek was submerged in a puddle of his own drool. Gingerly, he lifted his head off the cement and chanced opening his eyes one more time. When he was relatively certain that his brain wasn’t trying to escape through his ears, Bones opened his eyes fully.
This did not look like his dorm. In fact, this didn’t look like any room on campus he’d ever seen, and that included the inside of the hospital. Moving his eyes and his eyes only, McCoy took stock of his surroundings. The room was small with no carpeting, perhaps eight or ten feet square. There were two large benches affixed to each wall with a stainless steel toilet and freestanding sink on one side. Off to Bones’ right he saw a set of archaic metal bars running from floor to ceiling and--
Oh, shit.
McCoy’s listless brain finally caught up with what his eyes were seeing. This was the brig. If he’d had the energy, Bones would have slapped himself in the face right then and there. Instead, he settled for rolling over on his back with a grunt. The sudden movement of turning 180 degrees threw off his already shaky equilibrium and for a few moments, the world spun nicely. However, his stomach chose that particular moment to revolt, and McCoy found himself scrambling on all fours toward the toilet. He shoved his face in and heaved up everything he ate or drank the night before, which included, apparently, a large portion of the San Francisco bay. Wait. Since when did the Bay smell like booze?
Bones, spent after his visit to the porcelain, no metal, god, scooted back to lean up against the wall. The bench looked infinitely more comfortable and probably a bit cleaner to boot, but it was too much work to get up that far. Instead, he rested his arms on his knees and his head on his arms.
What the hell did he do last night? For the first time, McCoy realized that he most certainly was not wearing the clothes he left his dorm in. He hadn’t been wearing his uniform at the bar, but he certainly didn’t go out in a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a t-shirt. And from his experience with treating patients straight from the brig, unless the garments presented an immediate a biohazard, cadets didn’t necessarily need a change of clothes to sober up.
Before he could ponder the missing chunk of his memory any further, the bars slid open and one large cadet, the one Jim so lovingly nicknamed “Cupcake” in the now-infamous Iowa bar, stepped forward into the cell. Nudging McCoy with his foot a bit harder than necessary, he grumbled, “Let’s go, sunshine. Get up. We got places to be today.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” McCoy glared, the larger man towering over him. When Cupcake reached for the doctor’s arm, Bones pulled it back. “Dammit, man! I’m fairly sure I didn’t forget how to stand up. I don’t need your help.”
Cupcake shrugged, clearly bored and irritated. “Suit yourself.”
McCoy used the wall and literally hauled himself up to standing. He blinked hard a couple of times to keep the world from spinning even more; though, at this point should he have to revisit the toilet, it would just be dry heaves. Licking his dry lips, he asked, “Where are we going?”
Cupcake grunted and led the doctor out of the cell and down the hall. Once outside, he looked McCoy up and down. The smug sneer was evident on his face and dripped from his tone. “Pike’s office. He needs to see you about something.”
McCoy growled. The day just kept getting better and better.
Click here for part 1A
Click here for part 1B
Click here for part 2A
Click here for part 2B
PLEASE DO NOT repost any of this (or any story written on this blog) or your comments to this entry on Facebook or Twitter. Thanks in advance!
As McCoy might say, “Good god, man!” I really, really did try to keep this to a ten page one-shot. But, I have this somewhat psychotic need to connect everything and make it flow. Then, Pike decided he wanted a bigger role in this story, and he wouldn’t shut up until I acquiesced. I mean, the man’s an Admiral, so it’s not like I can say no. Now, without further adieu, chapter 2, otherwise know as the, “Morning after the night before.” Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. I own just a very overactive muse and a whacked sense of humor, neither of which you’ll get if you sue me.
Chapter 2
Captain Christopher Pike walked briskly into his office at 0600. Like most Wednesday mornings, he started early with a cup of coffee (regular, of course), a bagel (plain, extra cream cheese), and the latest news from the Federation on the video feed while he skimmed the various academic and discipline reports from the past week. Beginning with the mundane, Pike looked over progress reports from the cadets who were in the clutches of academic difficulties. He divided them into two piles: those showing progress, and those who needed a swift kick in the ass.
The next step was reading all the behavior reports from the various MPs and resident advisors throughout the campus. He sighed. The end of the semester usually meant one of two things: one, the level of needed discipline would plummet because classes were through, or two, the level of needed discipline would rise sharply simply because classes were done. There never seemed to a third direction. Mostly, the reports ranged from the mundane fight to the hilarious odd occurrence, and back to the strictly unbelievable. The only thing each incident had in common was that they all generally made Pike shake his head in disbelief at the rampant stupidity among some of the universe’s brightest minds.
Digitally thumbing through the reports, Pike glanced over the regulation broken and the cadet’s name. Most were first time incidents and likely to never to be punished again, but others were repeat offenders, some on their respective ways out the door. Like the academic discipline reports, Pike divided the incident summaries into two categories as well. The cadets who’d never had trouble would get the requisite ‘Come to Jesus’ lecture to scare them straight; the habitual troublemakers would likely not be so fortunate. Strangely, the Captain didn’t see a discipline report mentioning James Kirk once. That in and of itself was an odd occurrence, but perhaps the cadet was turning over a new leaf.
Pike internally rolled his eyes. Kirk will keep himself out of trouble when hell freezes over. ‘You’ll do well to remember that you brought him here, Chris. If he’s a pain in your ass, whose fault is that?’ he mentally questioned himself.
Halfway through the list, Chris literally spit out his coffee and dropped the PADD in total shock. Cursing, he picked the small device up and wiped it with a napkin from his morning bagel. The screen clear, Pike looked again. The name and the infractions remained the same.
‘McCoy, Leonard H. Infractions 601.24 and 587.59. Cadet escorted to brig for observation and possible medical assistance.’
With gentleness he didn’t normally display, Pike put the PADD down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands together behind his head. Mentally, he checked the regulations and the associated numbers for the fifth time. Pike knew the regs like the back of his hand, and had, in fact, memorized them. There was no way he could be wrong, but then how could that report be right? ‘Public intoxication and…streaking?’ the captain thought.
A deep ridge formed on Pike’s face, the man deep in thought. This had to be some sort of a joke. The captain knew that both McCoy and Kirk were sources of envy around campus when compared to the other cadets. Most coveted Kirk for his charm, wit and as it turned out, his brains, and McCoy because of the MD already attached to his name. Both men had done exceptionally well in the past two years, placing at the top of their class in their respective fields, despite the appearance that they were both aloof and uncaring. Apparently, one of the side effects of doing well was unwanted, unwarranted, jealous attention.
Kirk, the people person, had very little trouble deflecting the negativity. Those who couldn’t be dissuaded by his charm ultimately met the business end of his fist or his intellect. The introverted doctor, on the other hand, hadn’t been so fortunate. A solid decade plus a few of years older than most of the cadets, Bones had very little in common with his peers. He also didn’t go out of his way to try and get to know them on anything more than a passing familiarity or in a professional sense. Add on top of that the fact of McCoy’s wonderfully stunning personality, and it equated to quite a bit of hazing from the student body. Perhaps this was just another attempt to smear what was McCoy’s exceptional record through the mud, and to be completely honest, Pike was sick of dealing with the juvenile entrapment of a few jealous cadets.
The captain hit the comm button on his speaker.
“Yes, Captain Pike?” Gloria Stuart, Pike’s yeoman answered.
“Could you get Commander Rowe in here please?”
“Right away, sir. What can I tell him it’s regarding?”
“Just tell him I need to see him about a discipline report he filed early this morning.”
Ten minutes later, a young commander in Academy black stood in front of Pike’s desk. His expression feigned a forced neutrality and professional calm. A deeper look revealed a nervousness in his eyes, one which said he didn’t know what warranted being dragged into a captain’s office this early on Wednesday morning, especially when he’d just come off duty for the night. The young man was worried, plain and simple. Before he could let any more of his emotion leak through his facial expression, Rowe composed himself and asked, “What can I do for you today, sir?”
Pike held up the PADD with Rowe’s report. He was not in the mood for this crap this early on Wednesday morning, though he couldn’t imagine what anyone would have on the Academy’s Chief of Security large enough to rope him into helping on this particular stunt. Tossing the PADD to Rowe, Pike asked, “Is this report accurate, Commander? Because if this is some idea of a joke, I swear I will shove your head out your ass so fast, you won’t even have time to smell your own shit.”
The young Commander analyzed the angry expression on Pike’s face and wisely bit his tongue to cut off the indignant remark he felt coming on. Instead, he took the PADD to read the report. Rowe’s brows furrowed as he read and he shook his head back and forth. His expression darkened briefly before taking on a neutral quality once again. Before he spoke, the Commander raised his eyes to make contact with his superior. “No joke, sir. Everything in the report is completely accurate and personally witnessed by not only my team, but myself.”
Leaning in on his elbows, Pike narrowed his eyes. Though his anger had ebbed, he still wanted to be very, very clear. “Son, you mean to tell me that every event, place, time and most specifically, every name, is correct?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
The captain’s gaze was incredulous. “Leonard McCoy,” Pike began, “Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, the man who I thought had a three foot long rod wedged permanently up his ass for the last two years, got drunk and went streaking through campus last night?”
Rowe nodded dumbly. “I couldn’t believe it, either, sir. When we finally stopped him, he almost got away from my team and me because we were all so shocked when we figured out who it was.” The nervous man looked down at his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “And then we discovered the doctor is stronger than he looks, sir.”
“Well, considering the man nearly failed hand to hand, I’d suggest you go over a refresher course with your people. If a guy who needed Jim Kirk’s barroom brawling expertise to pass a basic self-defense course could inflict this much damage on them, maybe you’re not doing something right” Pike admonished. “They need to learn to treat every situation individually, and not to go into a fight with preconceived notions about the skill of their opponent.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve already written out a training schedule to address that issue. There will not be a repeat of this, Captain. On that, I can assure you,” Rowe succinctly replied, clearly embarrassed that his people were bested by a doctor who could barely fight his way out of wet paper bag a year previous.
Pike shifted leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his fist. He believed Rowe. The man had an excellent reputation as an MP and his expressions and actions were genuine. The captain felt a bit of a smile begin to tug at his face and the laughter start to form in the pit of his stomach. He stamped both urges down as quickly as they came, for he would not laugh in the presence of a subordinate, especially when it could be potentially damaging to another cadet’s ability to lead.
Schooling his features to passivity again, Pike lowered his voice and said, “All right, Commander. I believe you. Thank you for the report. You’re dismissed.”
“Sir.” Rowe straightened up to attention and about-faced to walk out the door.
As soon as the door to his office clicked closed, Pike gave in to urge that was threatening to boil over. “Well I’ll be god dammed,” Pike said, tossing the stylus on the desktop. The laugh started as just a bubble of a chuckle rising up to the top, its escape unintentional. But before long, the Academy Captain found himself clutching the PADD detailing McCoy’s outlandish night and laughing his ass off.
After a beat to calm himself and to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes Pike hit the comm button again. “Gloria, get me the brig and tell them to send Dr. McCoy over here. An escort isn’t necessary. I trust him.”
“An escort?” A pause. “Sir, doesn’t Dr. McCoy work over at the hospital?”
“Yes, he does, but right now he’s a guest of the brig, not an employee. Can you see that he makes his way over here, please?”
Gloria stuttered. “Guest of the-- Ye--Yes, sir.”
The captain smirked as he imagined the obvious befuddled look that was likely all over his yeoman’s face.
Pike busied himself by reading the rest of the reports while he waited for the doctor to show up. He found that he had to physically suppress the urge the laugh and smile when his brain inadvertently rolled back to his latest source of amusement. The report was simply too funny and Pike only hoped he could hold it together long enough to keep himself from literally laughing in McCoy’s face. It was always the quiet ones that surprised the hell out of him, and Leonard McCoy was turning out to be no exception.
It was in those few minutes of waiting during which Captain Christopher Pike came to the conclusion that, sometimes, being the resident Starfleet Academy Czar of Discipline wasn’t such a boring job after all.
========
Consciousness came back to McCoy slowly, his brain still fuzzy and sluggish. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and could hear the blood rushing through his veins. The doctor knew he was lying on the ground, for the cold of cement seeped through his skin and down to his core. Slowly, he cracked one eye open, only to be rewarded as the sunlight tried to viciously stab a hole through the back of his skull. Snapping his eyes closed again, McCoy heard a distant, strangled moan. It took him a second to realize the moan came from him.
Bones flexed his fingers and wrists. He was apparently lying face down on his stomach, one cheek resting on the cement. McCoy felt some wetness around the corner of his mouth and realized embarrassingly that his cheek was submerged in a puddle of his own drool. Gingerly, he lifted his head off the cement and chanced opening his eyes one more time. When he was relatively certain that his brain wasn’t trying to escape through his ears, Bones opened his eyes fully.
This did not look like his dorm. In fact, this didn’t look like any room on campus he’d ever seen, and that included the inside of the hospital. Moving his eyes and his eyes only, McCoy took stock of his surroundings. The room was small with no carpeting, perhaps eight or ten feet square. There were two large benches affixed to each wall with a stainless steel toilet and freestanding sink on one side. Off to Bones’ right he saw a set of archaic metal bars running from floor to ceiling and--
Oh, shit.
McCoy’s listless brain finally caught up with what his eyes were seeing. This was the brig. If he’d had the energy, Bones would have slapped himself in the face right then and there. Instead, he settled for rolling over on his back with a grunt. The sudden movement of turning 180 degrees threw off his already shaky equilibrium and for a few moments, the world spun nicely. However, his stomach chose that particular moment to revolt, and McCoy found himself scrambling on all fours toward the toilet. He shoved his face in and heaved up everything he ate or drank the night before, which included, apparently, a large portion of the San Francisco bay. Wait. Since when did the Bay smell like booze?
Bones, spent after his visit to the porcelain, no metal, god, scooted back to lean up against the wall. The bench looked infinitely more comfortable and probably a bit cleaner to boot, but it was too much work to get up that far. Instead, he rested his arms on his knees and his head on his arms.
What the hell did he do last night? For the first time, McCoy realized that he most certainly was not wearing the clothes he left his dorm in. He hadn’t been wearing his uniform at the bar, but he certainly didn’t go out in a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a t-shirt. And from his experience with treating patients straight from the brig, unless the garments presented an immediate a biohazard, cadets didn’t necessarily need a change of clothes to sober up.
Before he could ponder the missing chunk of his memory any further, the bars slid open and one large cadet, the one Jim so lovingly nicknamed “Cupcake” in the now-infamous Iowa bar, stepped forward into the cell. Nudging McCoy with his foot a bit harder than necessary, he grumbled, “Let’s go, sunshine. Get up. We got places to be today.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” McCoy glared, the larger man towering over him. When Cupcake reached for the doctor’s arm, Bones pulled it back. “Dammit, man! I’m fairly sure I didn’t forget how to stand up. I don’t need your help.”
Cupcake shrugged, clearly bored and irritated. “Suit yourself.”
McCoy used the wall and literally hauled himself up to standing. He blinked hard a couple of times to keep the world from spinning even more; though, at this point should he have to revisit the toilet, it would just be dry heaves. Licking his dry lips, he asked, “Where are we going?”
Cupcake grunted and led the doctor out of the cell and down the hall. Once outside, he looked McCoy up and down. The smug sneer was evident on his face and dripped from his tone. “Pike’s office. He needs to see you about something.”
McCoy growled. The day just kept getting better and better.
Click here for part 1A
Click here for part 1B
Click here for part 2A
Click here for part 2B
PLEASE DO NOT repost any of this (or any story written on this blog) or your comments to this entry on Facebook or Twitter. Thanks in advance!