She Told Me Before, Baby, Do Your Own Dance.
I'd talk about all the angst this story caused me with its complications and such, but oh my God, you have no idea how much you don't care. I will say that I'm incredibly nervous about it because it's relationshippy fic, and I am not good with this sort of thing. Sigh.
Also, despite the fact that this is Chapel/Kirk/McCoy threesome fic and a hard R, I fail at bringing the porn. Mea culpa. I just hope it doesn't suck.
So much love for superjoydrop for editing and cheerleading and gently reminding me of all the Star Trek terms I forget to put in because it's usually eleven at night when I'm writing this. The Joan Jett song is for her because she's just that awesome. The "whiskey versus vodka" argument is for charliehey because she likes this sort of thing and she made me this icon, which I love and adore. The Admiral Archer mention is for traveller because she alerted me to what a bamf he truly is. ♥, darlingface.
This Is Not A Love Song
Chapel and Kirk don't meet in the usual, cute, makes-a-great-dinner-story kind of way. There is no decades-long friendship that suddenly turns into fake orgasms at a dining table and lifelong love, there is no antagonistic verbal sparring over books that hides how they really feel about each other, Christine does not wear vibrating underwear to get a boyfriend and Jim has not time-traveled from eighteenth-century England because of bullshit science.
This is not a love story and they are not in love.
Christine had been in love once. It had led to her being left at the altar while her husband-to-be ran off to another planet to study artificial intelligence and play demi-god with peoples' lives.
She's not ever doing that again.
How Kirk and Chapel meet goes like this: they're on the Enterprise getting ready to launch for the first time ever and Chapel is stocking the vaccines and hyposprays in the supply cupboard when McCoy bursts in with a sweaty, groaning, puffy mess that he calls Jim, sedates him, and watches over him while he sleeps. Christine already knows that McCoy's breaking all the rules because he keeps looking around the Sickbay like he expects someone to come in and clap him in irons for whatever transgression he's committed. She sighs and tells him that he'd better at least buy her a drink, a good drink, for her silence because she's not easy or cheap. He agrees with a kind of baffled amusement that turns out to be the other side of his defensive anger, and they end up exchanging names and stories after everything has calmed down and they're on their way back to Starfleet.
The first time Chapel meets Kirk, he's a puffy, drugged-out mess, and she isn't impressed by him at all.
Eventually, Kirk jolts awake after the Russian kid's hard-to-understand announcement about a lightning storm in space and everything just goes downhill from then on. After that, it's the Captain being taken hostage, it's Vulcan being destroyed, it's Dr. Puri bleeding out slowly and painfully as McCoy yells at her to hold her hand steady against the goddamn wound while the ship rocks and sparks and threatens to tear apart, it's chaos and confusion and a never-ending onslaught of terror and pain and fear.
It's almost enough to make her reconsider a Starfleet career, except that she's never given up on anything in her life and she's not about to start now. Besides, her patients need her, Starfleet needs her, McCoy needs her if only to get everything done right the first time and run interference for him when it comes to Kirk.
Christine stays.
The second time she meets Kirk is after the Vulcan survivors have been beamed aboard and transferred to Sickbay. McCoy, Chapel, and the few medical aides they have are doing what they can to clean up the cuts and scrapes, bandaging wounds while McCoy runs the tricorder over them and checks for internal damages. Christine has never seen so many shocked, pained, frightened faces in her life, and the fact that she's seeing these expressions on Vulcan faces terrifies her on a deep level. She's used to Vulcans being in control of themselves; she's not sure how to deal with these hurt, scared, vulnerable people who have lost their entire world and their mates in the span of minutes.
She keeps it together, shoving everything down and pressing her lips together to keep it all inside, if only to not give McCoy a reason to dress her down in front of everyone, and sees to as many wounded as she can while McCoy sees to the rest. She's just finished regenerating skin for one of the Vulcan elders who'd been scraped up by the falling rocks of Vulcan when she notices Kirk sitting on the medbed next to a young Vulcan girl. He's carefully wrapping a bandage around her hand, talking softly to her, her little dark head bending towards his as she leans in to hear what he's saying, and listening intently when she answers his questions in a dazed voice.
Christine feels something inside her twist painfully at the lost, blank look on the little girl's face, and she has a moment of vicious, mindless hatred for the madman who caused all of this, who destroyed so many people for his own agenda. Then she sees Kirk gently take the girl's uninjured hand in his, sees him let her squeeze as hard as she can, even though her Vulcan strength obviously pains him, and sings her a soft, tender song in a language Christine can't identify except to say that it isn't Vulcan.
She likes Kirk a little more after that; not enough to call him Captain or follow him into whatever mad plan he's cooked up to save whatever needs saving, but it's only the second time she's met him and she doesn't know that she's going to be inextricably bound to him for as long as she's on the Enterprise.
That knowledge comes much later.
Much, much later, when Kirk and Spock save the Earth, and that Engineering fella that Kirk had brought aboard with him (since Christine wasn't involved in anything bridge-related, she's had to rely on ship's gossip to keep her updated on what's going on, and consensus on Scotty is that he's a genius, a bit weird, and very Scottish, which explains the first two points) has stopped them from being sucked through time (again) and they're limping back to the nearest starbase on impulse power (since they'd had to jettison the warp nacelles just to get out of the impending black hole), Christine flops down on a chair in the cafeteria, stretches her arms out on the table and rests her head on them, and lets out a long, deep sigh that feels like it had been held in for years, not hours.
"You said it," Uhura says from behind her.
Christine is too tired to do more than give her a graceless wave, not even moving her head from its prone position. She hears Uhura laugh softly, hears the clink of glasses by her head, and then there's a slightly hollow thunk as a glass is placed by her hand. Reluctantly, she lifts her head and makes a small, relieved sound as she sees Uhura pour her a replicated rum and Coke. "You're a godsend, Nyota," she mumbles, sitting up enough to take a deep swig that would have her mother sighing about manners.
Uhura just nods and clinks her glass against Chapel's, drinking hers in much the same manner as Christine. "So," she says after a few moments of savoring the way the rum lights a small fire in her belly, "hell of a first mission, huh?"
Finishing her drink in record time, for her, Chapel gives an unladylike snort. "There's the fucking understatement of the year."
Uhura lets out a bark of surprised laughter and then covers her mouth with her hand, like she's trying to hold it inside. Chapel looks at her for a minute, trying to figure out if she's being laughed at or with, then it hits her, and she bursts out laughing too. In the abstract, she knows they're not laughing because she said the word 'fuck'; she knows they're laughing because they all came close to death about a hundred times, which is a hundred times too many, and laughing about surviving is better than crying and screaming about it, but that's the abstract, and they're both very much in the present.
There's time for grieving later, when they're home and safe and can deal with everything and everyone they've lost. For now, they've flown in the face of danger and survived. So she laughs with Uhura, her hands pressed firmly against the table to hold her steady as she lets out all that ever-present fear and anger, and if there's a slight tinge of hysteria coloring their laughter, no one mentions it because everyone else is feeling the same thing.
"Oh, Jesus," she says weakly, pressing her hand to her chest as she tries to catch her breath. "Too much."
Uhura wipes away tears from her eyes. "God, that felt good," she says with a sigh. "I've been trying not to scream for the past couple of hours."
"Christ, me too," Christine groans, feeling her muscles ache with all the tension she's holding in. "It's been insanity in Sickbay. I can't even imagine what the bridge was like."
"Chaos," Uhura says softly, absently rubbing her fingers against her temple as if to ward off a headache. "I've been fielding Starfleet commands for the past hour, not to mention monitoring the frequencies for any kind of non-Federation message about what's going on." She sits up a little straighter, her mouth flattening into a thin line. "I don't even know what's going to happen after we get back, you know. I mean," she shrugs helplessly, "we saved Earth and all, but. What do we do now?"
Her voice sounds small and lost, and Christine scrubs at her face and wonders if it would be bad form to get absolutely shitfaced and scream until she cries. She's not ready for Nyota to not be the strong one; she doesn't think she can be strong enough for the both of them.
"I need to get drunk," she announces, and Uhura nods, although she makes no move to get them more rum and Cokes. "I suppose it's my turn?"
Uhura smiles a little. "I'd move, but my legs have become one with the plastic seat."
Chapel can do distraction, she's good at that. She can tease and distract Nyota away from thinking about whatever it is that's got her looking like she's on the verge of tears and Nyota should not be crying when her boyfriend is not here to hold her and comfort her. So she teases, "You're communing with your chair?"
"I am trying to achieve nirvana through it."
Chapel giggles. "You're hopeless," she says into her drink, which gets Nyota laughing again, and it does Christine's heart good to see her do that. "Fine, stay here and I'll go get us more booze. Rum and Coke?"
Uhura's face wrinkles with concentration, which is kind of a cute look on her, although Christine doesn't dare say it out loud. "I want something colorful and fruity," she says slowly as if the thought is occurring to her as she speaks.
Chapel rolls her eyes. "What a surprise."
"Like you're not going to get a pink cocktail," Uhura retorts easily.
Christine makes a face. "I knew telling you about my bar days was going to come back to bite me in the ass." She carefully gets to her feet, groaning as she feels all her muscles protest strenuously about moving, and heads towards the nearest replicator. She hears Nyota's laughing "But I had to know about you dancing on the bar table on your eighteenth birthday. And you weren't even drunk," she adds with a giggle, and Christine wonders why she gets so stupid and talky around her when all Uhura does is tease her about it.
Stupid crush, she grumbles to herself. Not that she's going to do anything about it because even if Nyota wasn't as straight as a ruler, she's also with Spock, something else the ship's gossips had revealed, and Christine knows enough to know that she's no competition for a goddamn Vulcan. Spock isn't even her type and she can see the attraction.
When she comes back with their drinks (Bajoran Slingshot for Nyota and a Chocolatini for her), Nyota's sitting and talking to the Engineering guy -- what was his name, Scotty? -- with an amused look on her face. There are two glasses of whiskey and a bottle in front of them and he's trying to persuade her to take a shot while she laughs and shakes her head. Christine slides into her seat and carefully places Uhura's drink in front of her. "Drink up."
"Are you drinking that?" Scotty looks aghast at the drink in Chapel's hand.
"I bought it, didn't I?" Chapel scowls, wishing she had enough credits to justify wasting this drink by spilling it on him.
"But it's so..." He gestures helplessly at it, like he's never even seen a Chocolatini before, and whatever, it's chocolate and booze and it's fucking delicious, so screw you, Scotty.
"Chocolatey?" Nyota asks delightedly, ignoring Chapel flipping her off as she takes a sip of her Slingshot and makes pleased, happy noises that go straight to Christine's head.
"At least it's not pink," Christine says mulishly, which just makes Uhura laugh even more, and after a moment, Christine grins and lets it go. They've just been through hell and back, and all of them need to laugh and cry and forget for a while, so if there's a bit of teasing and laughter, what the hell? It'd be funny if it wasn't happening to her, and she can appreciate how ridiculous this whole conversation is.
"Whiskey," Scotty says decisively, picking up one of the glasses and admiring the amber glow in it, "now that's a man's drink."
Chapel makes a face. "You're welcome to it then. I've never liked the taste of whiskey."
"Me either, unless it's Jack Daniels," Uhura pipes up, her eyes a little glazed over, which means that she's already tipsy. She's such an easy drunk. Christine's told her as much and as many times, usually when they used to go drinking at the Academy with Uhura snuggled against her, her head on Christine's shoulder, singing a soft song about another world that Christine has never even heard of, but that Uhura has studied intensively because she'd found it interesting.
Christine's not in love with Nyota, but she does care about her, and maybe part of that is the infatuation, but most of it is just because Uhura is who she is, brilliant and sure of herself and intensely interested in everything the world has to offer, and she's also a damn good friend, which Christine needs in her life these days. Besides, she can see Nyota's face every time Spock looks at her. That's love; Christine doesn't mess with that kind of emotion.
Scotty is still expounding on the joys of whiskey, but Chapel's no longer irritated because she likes how he says things, all excited high notes and melodious lilts and long, slow r's that ring pleasantly in her ear. Halfway through his excited handflap over some Irish whiskey brewed in oak barrels and blah, blah, blah, there's a thump as someone places a bottle and a glass on the table, and Christine turns around to see the Russian kid -- Cheruv? Chekov? Chablis? no, wait, that's French, never mind -- slide into the seat next to her and across from Scotty and Nyota with a mischievous grin.
"Vodka is better," he argues, looking at Scotty with a glint in his eye, and it has a familiar sound to it, this conversation, like it's something they've argued about before and this is just them sliding back into the argument like they'd never left.
"Bah," Scotty grumbles, downing his whiskey with a gulp and sucking in the air through his teeth as the burn hits his throat. "Turpentine. I would use it to clean the ship's pipes."
Chekov's mouth makes a moue of disgust as he rolls the empty glass around in his hand. "Whiskey is rotten grain."
"Blasphemy," Scotty roars, sending Uhura and Chapel in gales of laughter at the outrage on his face. "You wouldn't know good alcohol if it bit you in the arse."
"I cannot believe I was going to waste vodka on you," Chekov says with a scowl, picking up the bottle and pouring himself a drink. He downs it with a defiant look at Scotty, and Chapel has to resist the urge to squeeze the kid until he pops. He's forty going on seventeen while looking twelve; she's pretty sure he'd hate her forever if she made him feel like a cute kid. She just drinks her ridiculously boozy chocolate drink and lets Uhura snuggle up against her and laughs as Scotty and Chekov go from arguing about alcohol to arguing about transwarp theory, breaking out the data pads that seem to always be present on engineers when working out their proofs.
It's surviving, she thinks as she rests her head against Nyota's, it's doing what they have to do to get through the horror and be strong enough to pick up the pieces and start all over again. It's how they survive out in the black and Chapel's grateful for all of them at the table because for a while, she forgets that later, she's going to cry and break down and have nightmares for months and not sleep properly for even longer than that. She has a moment of respite and she's grateful for it.
***
After that, the whole world becomes a blur of speeches from Starfleet higher-ups, commendations, psych evaluations, and memorials for the lost Vulcans and cadets. Christine hates most of everything except for the memorials. She cries at every single one, even though she hates crying, and most of Starfleet cries along with her because they understand. Uhura and Spock flank her at the memorial for the Vulcans, which makes her glad because it makes her try to hold it together so as to not embarrass herself in front of Spock. But then Nyota holds his hand when they're asked for a moment of silence, and Christine breaks down, trying to hide her face and feeling like a fool but unable to stop herself.
Spock quietly hands her a handkerchief, a look of understanding on his face, and it makes Christine cry even harder because he should not be comforting her while he's still mourning the loss of his people and his planet and oh God, his mother. There's some sort of silent signal between Spock and Nyota because before she knows it, they press closer, Spock's arm touching hers while Nyota slips her hand into Christine's. It gives her the strength to take a deep breath and straighten up, to wipe away her tears and keep a silent vigil for Vulcan and its people, for Spock and his mother, for them and the part of their lives that they've lost.
The memorial for the cadets is just as bad. McCoy's the one holding her steady this time, his arm wrapped around her waist and his handkerchief pressed into her hands as she silently cries into it. Kirk isn't with them, she notices, he's in front of them giving a subdued but heartfelt speech about all the sacrifices made and good people lost and how they have to find some way to go on. Chapel hates speeches as a general rule, except for the ones by Admiral Archer who actually knows what he's talking about and genuinely cares, but she likes Kirk's because she knows that his grief comes from a genuine place, that it isn't just speechifying and grandstanding by people who haven't been in battle in years and don't understand what it was like out there.
Kirk looks solemn as he gives his speech, bruises still marring his face, and Christine remembers the quiet, gentle man comforting a lost Vulcan child in her Sickbay. Kirk's reputation as a brash, reckless, genius asshole who'd tomcatted around the Academy had preceded him, of course, but Christine thinks that it won't anymore, not after this. In fact, anyone who has anything bad to say about Jim Kirk after this is going to get punched in the balls because no one who damn near gave his life to save the planet is going to get talked about with any kind of disrespect, same goes for Spock if anyone dares to take him on. Chapel's going to make sure of it.
She says as much to McCoy and earns his undying loyalty because apparently, all you have to do to get McCoy on your side is to be the goddamn best at whatever you're good at and swear loyalty to Jim. Chapel's already done both, so she's got McCoy solidly in her corner. It's a nice feeling, especially since she'd only had Gaila and Nyota before; now she has Spock and McCoy, and possibly even Scotty and Chekov, despite not drinking whiskey or vodka. More people backing her up is always welcome.
It's only the third time she's been around Jim and she's already promised to look out for him. It's a strange feeling, but McCoy says that's the way it goes with Jim and she'll get used to it in time. She isn't sure she wants that.
***
She'd gotten permanently assigned to the Enterprise after getting a commendation for going above and beyond the call of duty, and she has McCoy to thank for that. If he wasn't such a prickly bastard, she'd kiss him for fighting for her. Instead, she settles into her role as Head Nurse (officially) and McCoy's right hand (unofficially), and learns the rhythms of life on a starship as they go exploring in space.
She helps McCoy treat a variety of alien viruses, both of them doing research and synthesizing the vaccines needed, a variety of good old Earth diseases (McCoy treats them, she gives them the "no glove, no love" lecture in exactly the same tone of voice her mother used on her, and it simultaneously makes her feel old and miss her mother), and a staggering number of weapon-related wounds, of which Jim Kirk seems to be the main star.
The first time Kirk comes in with a deep knife wound and a noticeable loss of blood, she does her job in assisting McCoy and does not say anything about the way his hand trembles as he slips in the IV needle. The sixth time Kirk comes to the Sickbay, it's with a spear through his chest and a deathly look on his face. Chapel holds him down as McCoy takes it out, her hands clenched tightly against Kirk's shoulders as he screams with pain and then passes out.
After he's patched up and pumped full of antibiotics and their shift has ended, McCoy drags Chapel into his office, sets up the door lock, and proceeds to get both of them drunk. His hands are shaking as he pours the drinks and hers tremble badly as she takes a big gulp that hurts her throat going down, but the booze gets to where it's going and McCoy spends the next hour drinking and cursing the name James Tiberius Kirk with every breath he takes. Christine wraps her arm around his shoulders and lets him rant until he runs out of fear and anger, until it's just concern and worry making him shake.
"He's fine now," she says softly.
"Yeah, now," he growls, and Christine has a feeling that this isn't the first time Kirk's done something like this nor is this the first time McCoy's had to patch up Kirk after a bad injury.
"He does this often?"
McCoy closes his eyes as if the thought is too much for him. "All the goddamn time," he finally murmurs.
Christine's mouth quirks up in a small smile. "You should strap him down to the bed. He won't get into any trouble then."
"Tried that," McCoy deadpans. "He chewed through the straps."
Chapel blinks at him for a moment, trying to decide whether he's kidding or not, and then she sees the edge of his mouth curl up into a smile and she lets out a loud burst of laughter. "Bastard," she chuckles, "I almost believed you."
McCoy's still grinning as he finishes off his drink. "That's 'cause you're gullible, sweetheart."
Christine rolls her eyes. "You know I've killed lesser men for calling me that, right?"
"With what, your tongue?" McCoy snorts. "I can believe that."
"You're one to talk," Christine says with mock-outrage. "I'm honestly surprised to see that you haven't yet managed to skin anyone alive with just your words."
"Wait and see," McCoy says grimly, pouring them both another drink. "We've only been out in the black for a month. It's gonna get worse."
"You're a real ray of fucking sunshine, McCoy," Chapel sighs as she takes a sip from her refreshed drink.
"And this is me when I'm calm."
"I knew I should've become a vet like Mom wanted me to."
He laughs at that. "Christine, my girl, you've got a terrible bedside manner, a no-bullshit attitude, and the biggest set of balls this side of Jim, only with a lot more brains. You're gonna be a great doctor someday."
It's the nicest thing he's ever said to her. She decides not to mock his age this once.
***
She gets used to all of it, that's the thing. She gets used to the chaos of Sickbay, the missions and their consequences, having a drink and talking with McCoy after their shift ends, and seeing Jim Kirk in Sickbay at least once every few days. He's in there often enough that they're now on a first-name basis, his name said in a stern voice, her name said with a flirtatious edge that makes her roll her eyes at him, even as she's repressing a smile. Once he finds out that she and McCoy hang out after their shifts end (and demands to know why he wasn't invited, pouting when they explain that he usually tends to be the reason they're in there drinking), he invites them to the rec room for game night.
Game night turns out to be an excuse to play cards and pool and get pleasantly drunk. There's some retro music playing, usually Journey because some of the engineers have a thing for twentieth-century arena rock, and Christine sways to the music, singing about living in a lonely world under her breath because she doesn't want anyone to know she loves this song. There are quite a few crewmembers already milling about racking up balls or anteing up for the kitty, so Christine grabs a drink and sits at the poker table with McCoy and Jim.
The game's announced, the cards are dealt, and everyone immediately starts hoarding their cards like they're made out of gold. Christine's got a good poker face, according to her mom, and she isn't afraid to bet big, so she wins a few games due to sheer nerve. Kirk wins the rest because he has a better poker face and is insanely competitive, and also because he cheats like the bastard he is. Christine wishes she'd thought of it first.
It's the last game and it's down to Kirk and her. Scotty had to fold because he's clean out of money, Ensign Riley isn't allowed to trade in his car back home for another chance to go against Kirk, and McCoy had sat the game out a long time ago, content to watch this tomfoolery and make sarcastic comments about everyone and everything. Christine knows damn well that she's got shit cards, but she can bluff with the best of them, and she refuses to let that cheating bastard she calls Captain win this game.
"You all in, Christine?" he asks gleefully, waggling his eyebrows.
She manages not to throw peanuts at him, even though he's practically taunting her. "Get ready to weep and beg for mercy, Jim."
"Oh, I'll--"
"Do not," she says sternly, "finish that sentence if you want your testicles to stay where they're supposed to be."
Kirk giggles into his drink, and Christine hates that she finds that cute. "I love a woman who can maim me without even batting an eyelash."
Christine makes a face as she looks at her cards again. Nope, they still suck. "This explains so much about your love life," she says dryly, and even McCoy whoops with laughter over that.
"Keep talking, Chrissy," Kirk smirks, waving his fan of cards in front of her like a challenge. "You're gonna be apologizing soon enough."
"Bring it, Jimmy."
She loses, of course. He has a full house and she has nothing, but she bluffs beautifully enough that he actually looks worried for a while, and the look of sheer relief on his face when he finally sees her cards is enough to make up for losing to him. "Jesus, Chapel," he groans, "remind me to never get into a land war in Asia with you. I'd fucking lose."
She isn't sure what gets her more, the fact that he's praising her or the fact that he quoted her favorite movie of all time. She thinks it may be the movie. "Right," she says finally, feeling flushed with some unnamed emotion that she does not want to look at too closely right now. "I think it's my bedtime now."
Kirk smiles as she rises from the table and heads towards the exit. "Guess I'll just have to take everyone else's money then." There's a round of groans from around the table, and Christine smiles at the theatrics as she waves good night to them. She's halfway down the hall before she silently panics over the idea of finding Kirk attractive in any way that isn't immediately followed by the qualifier "but I also want to hit him with a rock."
By now, Christine can't remember how many times she's met up with Kirk, but she knows it's the first time she's thought about what it would be like to kiss that laughing mouth, to have him between her thighs to do as she pleased. She spends the rest of the night tossing and turning at the thought of Kirk naked and underneath her, his Academy reputation of being wild and fun in bed burning knowledge into her brain, and when she wakes up the next day, she's even grumpier and crankier than McCoy who is amused by the development.
She calls him "old man" and his face settles back into a scowl. She grins and goes about the rest of her day.
***
Life settles into a routine after that. Every week is some new disaster that keeps McCoy and Chapel up for days trying to find a cure, the cure seems to always be for some hapless away team member (usually Kirk), McCoy yells and stomps around at them for being so stupid (usually Kirk), he and Chapel spend a few hours in his office having mini-breakdowns over who almost died this week (usually Kirk) while taking a drink to steady their nerves before someone (usually Kirk) drags them into the rec room for a friendly game of cards or pool or foozball to relax them.
Or as Kirk says, "You fuckers drink too much. Come beat me at a game for once, it'll make you feel better." And Christine and McCoy sigh and roll their eyes and follow him to the rec room where McCoy lounges on the couch and snipes at Kirk all night long while Christine plays whatever game he suggests and does her damnedest to beat him.
She's pretty good at keeping up with him, even though he eventually beats her if only because he won't ever fucking quit and just wears her down until she gives in and leaves, and the only thing she's ever managed to defeat him in is pool. Christine is a pool shark from way back when and Kirk doesn't even stand a chance against her. The first time she wins, he's amused and offers a rematch just to see if she can do it again. The second time she wins, he's not as amused, but he offers her another chance to best him, seemingly convinced that Christine's just having a really good streak. The tenth time she wins, he's grim-faced and pissed off, calculating angles and making crazy, impossible moves that defy the laws of physics.
Christine beats the pants off of him with a smile.
Kirk doesn't talk to her for two days, sulking in his quarters when he's not in Sickbay and sulking far away from Christine when he's forced to be in Sickbay for whatever official and unofficial reason. Christine is amused as hell because who knew that Kirk was such a sore loser? McCoy is practically giddy with delight that someone finally bested Kirk in something and starts calling her Fast Eddie every time Kirk is around. He actually has Scotty make up a little trophy for her that says 'Universe's Best Pool Shark', which Christine puts on her desk in the most obvious spot just to annoy Kirk.
After two days, Jim comes up to her and apologizes for being a jerk, a sheepish grin on his face, and Christine just waves it off. He wouldn't be Kirk if he wasn't an idiot sometimes. Christine knows that being a genius doesn't preclude you from acting like a socially inept moron sometimes, and unlike most brilliant people, at least Kirk apologizes for his behavior.
At the next pool game, Kirk teams up with her against Ensign Hudak and Lieutenant Orgoth and wins fifty credits off of them with Christine's skills. He's in a good mood again, kissing Christine on the cheek, wrapping his arms around Christine and McCoy's shoulders and calling them his best buds. McCoy mocks Kirk for the entire evening for that, but it doesn't dim Kirk's smile, and Chapel feels stupidly warm and happy inside, even as she berates herself for acting so ridiculous.
It's about the hundredth time she's hung out with Kirk and Christine is finally ready to admit that maybe she has a thing for him.
***
She also has a thing for McCoy, but she feels less ridiculous about this.
Despite his grumbling and cantankerous attitude, McCoy understands her on a level that many people don't. He gets why she's so driven, why she's dreamed of being in space from the time she was little, why she's here on this bucket of rust and bolts fighting to keep people alive and grieving when they fail. He understands why she doesn't want to get married and why she only has a small, carefully chosen circle of friends that she trusts with herself and her life, and in return, she understands things about him that he keeps hidden from the rest of the crew.
She understands why he ran so far away from his old life, even though it meant leaving his child behind, something he regrets every single day of his life. She understands how he uses his anger to hide that he cares, more than he should in some cases, how he sometimes needs to be alone when he's lost a patient so he can drink his scotch and pretend it isn't tearing him up inside because he takes every death personally, just like Jim. She knows that when he says "Goddammit, Jim," what he really means is "I love you, dammit."
McCoy's an open book in comparison to Jim. He's all cartoon pictures and brightly colored paintings with big, easy-to-read words and footnotes in case you didn't get it the first time; Jim, however, is a really complicated math textbook, full of inexplicable equations, confusing diagrams, and graphs that make no sense to anyone who doesn't have an off-the-scale IQ, and maybe even then. She has trouble reading Jim most of the time, which is why she needs McCoy around to translate for her. She has no idea how anyone who smiles as much as Kirk can keep so many secrets, but he does, and it's slow, hard work getting him to open up and trust her with small bits of himself, but she understands how that goes because it's hard enough to trust him with the bits of her past that she tries to forget.
It's months of being around each other and getting drunk and laughing and joking and carefully revealing the broken parts of themselves that they take great pains to hide from the rest of the world. Jim never knew his father, McCoy lost his family to divorce, Christine got left at the altar; Jim hated his stepfather, McCoy and his father never saw eye to eye on anything, Christine's father shut himself up in his study and faded away in front of her eyes until it was just her and her mom and their big, empty house that felt like a tomb. They're all damaged in some way, she thinks one night when her brain is buzzing and sleep is elusive. They have all had chunks of their hearts torn out by the small, petty cruelties of life, but they've managed to soldier on and build friendships and live a good life despite all of it, or maybe because of it.
Christine doesn't know, really. She just knows that she's glad to be here on this ship with these people doing the job she loves to do; she feels like she finally belongs here, like she's finally where she's supposed to be, and maybe her life wasn't perfect before, but it's pretty good now, and she wouldn't trade anything for that.
Sighing, she punches her pillow until it feels comfortable and tries to fall asleep again. She'll talk to McCoy about all of this in the morning and he'll find some way to make it make sense while Jim will make her laugh and forget. They're good at that sort of thing.
***
It's her birthday and she's just pulled a double shift, which just makes everything that much better. Her mother had called her and left her a cheerful birthday message, which makes Christine ache with how much she misses her, and she promises herself that she'll call her back soon.
She's in her quarters toweling off after her sonic shower (which she hates, she misses the sting of water on her skin and the massager option on her antique showerhead) and listening to her favorite song. She'd turned off the comm a while ago so that she'd get a little peace and quiet before the next crisis starts. As Joan Jett sings about how she don't give a damn about her bad reputation, Christine is sliding on her underwear and tank top, bopping her head along to the song, and singing along with Joan. It's the first time in weeks that she's been able to have a moment to herself and just let go. She just cranks her music and shakes her ass and bangs her head and forgets for a moment that she's McCoy's right hand with responsibilities and a possible thing for her idiot captain, and dances like no one's watching, strumming her air guitar and singing into an imaginary microphone and being as ridiculous as she feels like being.
It feels like she's been dancing for hours, shimmying her hips and bouncing around the room in time to the music and singing along with all the songs, and she's missed this feeling of slowed-down time and joyous freedom She wants it to last forever, even though she knows that's not possible. Something's going to pop up soon and drag her back to Sickbay, and she'll have to shove herself back into her uniform again and become Nurse Chapel once more. So she might as well enjoy this while she can.
Then she spins around during the bridge and catches sight of Kirk leaning up against nearby wall, watching her with a sweet, genuine smile on his face and interest in his eyes. She screams and grabs the first thing she can get her hands on (a jar of her face cream) and lobs it at him. Christine used to play shortstop back when she was a kid so her aim is damn good, but Kirk's been bobbing and weaving since long before that, so he ducks the projectile and stays down as it crashes into the wall just by his head, and holds up his hands. "Whoa," he says in a panicked tone of voice. "Whoa, whoa, Chapel, it's just me."
"I know it's you, you jerk," she says in a high-pitched voice that borders on a screech, and she looks towards her dresser, trying to find more things to throw at him. "What the fuck are you doing in my quarters? How did you even get in?"
Kirk has the grace to look ashamed. "I, uh, I overrode your security lock."
She grabs a bottle of cheap perfume that she's never used (she really needs to start cleaning up and throwing out all the useless shit in her room, and God, isn't that a metaphor for her life?) and throws it at him, fury warring with humiliation that he would violate her privacy like this. "Why?" She picks up the next thing on her desk, a sharpener for her eyeliner, and flings it at him, watching angrily as it bounces off the wall and lands with a clatter on the floor.
"Jesus, Chapel," Kirk swears, his eyes wide with shock. "Calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down, you asshole," she yells, flinging whatever she can get her hands on and watching as he ducks and sidesteps them easily. "You are in my quarters without my permission watching me dance around in my underwear." Wisely, he does not say anything, which means that she won't have to maim him for life, just hurt him a little for now. "Why are you here?" she finally spits out, having finally run out of objects on her dresser to throw at him. Although she's got drawers full of things that are heavy and will make satisfying smashing noises if he doesn't have a goddamn good explanation.
Kirk holds up his hands in surrender. "McCoy asked me to check on you," he says quickly as if he can sense her thoughts about launching more things at him. "He's been trying to reach you on the comm, but you weren't answering, and we thought--" He straightens up, looking at her with a half-angry, half-worried glare that does nothing to calm her down. "We thought you might be hurt."
"And you decided to help me by breaking into my quarters?" she asks scathingly, wondering if she'd get court-martialed for castrating him. Maybe if she explained the circumstances...
"You weren't answering your comm," Kirk growls, spitting out each word in an accusatory tone. "We thought something bad had happened to you. We-- we were scared," he adds in a soft voice, as if the thought has just occurred to him, and fuck, fuck, he does not get to do that to her when she's worked up a righteous anger and needs to let it out.
"I swear to God, Kirk--" she starts threateningly.
"I know," Kirk says apologetically, and he's managed to find Christine's robe somewhere in the mess that is her living area and is handing it to her like a peace offering. She grabs it and quickly shrugs it on, glaring at him some more because she's not done being angry over him breaking into her quarters; she really doesn't give as much of a shit about the dancing because it's not like he hasn't seen her make a fool of herself in about a hundred other situations before.
"I'm really sorry, Christine." He must've said it five times already, but it's still not enough.
"What do you want?" she says tiredly, feeling every one of her twenty-seven years and wishing Jim would leave so she could just sleep the rest of her crappy birthday away.
He goes back to where he was standing before and picks up a brightly wrapped gift that he brings back to her. "Here," he says with a cautious smile. "Happy birthday."
She eyes it suspiciously. "What is it? Is it alien sex toys? Because I'm not fucking opening it if it is."
Kirk looks exasperated. "Just open it, will you? You're such a killjoy."
"I just know you," she says archly, ripping off the bow and tearing off the paper. She lifts up the lid of the box and stares blankly at the music cubes inside. She picks one up and reads the label. "Janis Joplin." Another one says Jimi Hendrix. One more says Led Zeppelin. She goes through them all: Journey, AC/DC, Madonna, the Beatles, Cher, Prince, all the artists she loves, all the music she dances to, all in this one box. She looks up at Jim with a question on her face.
"Do you like it?" he asks anxiously. "Bones told me some of the stuff you liked and I guessed the rest, and maybe I'm wrong, but who doesn't like the Rolling Stones, right?" He looks at her with something akin to panic in his eyes. "Oh, God, you do like the Stones, right? I didn't fuck up there?"
She starts laughing because she really can't help it. Jim Kirk, delinquent genius and raging terror of the Academy who made Captain before he was thirty, is terrified that she won't like the birthday gift he and his friend picked out for her. Clutching the Prince music cube in one hand, she reaches for him with the other and hugs him tightly, pressing a fierce kiss against his cheek. "You are a total sweetheart," she says warmly, meaning it, feeling something bloom and expand in her chest. "And so is McCoy," she adds with a mischievous grin. "I hope he knows he's going to get hugged and kissed for this."
Kirk's smile lights up the room. "He's waiting for it. We're having a small party for you in McCoy's quarters."
"At least you didn't say 'in my pants'," she says dryly.
Grinning wickedly, he leans in and steals a kiss from her, making her breath catch as he lingers against her mouth. "Maybe another time," he murmurs, giving her a look that she can't quite decipher, except that it makes her heart beat faster. "For now," he tugs at the collar of her robe, "get dressed. We've got some celebrating to do."
As she shrugs into her Starfleet pants, Christine reflects that this is one of the strangest yet most fun birthdays she's had so far. She also wonders how much longer they can do this dance before one of them gives in.
"Chrissy?" Jim's voice is gleeful, and she does not want to ask, but it's like a compulsion; she can't help herself.
"What?"
"You're a freeeeeeeeeeak."
She punches his shoulder. Hard. "Shut up, Jimmy."
***
Things all come to a head on Jim's birthday.
It's been almost a year since Vulcan, eight months since they started this mission, seven and a half months since Christine started hanging out with McCoy and Kirk and getting involved in their crazy reindeer games, four months since she started thinking about Kirk naked, been thinking about McCoy naked, and she still doesn't know what to do with any of this. She wants to pretend that none of this matters, that Kirk just flirts with her like he flirts with everyone else and it means nothing, but he looks at her so intently sometimes, like he's trying to figure her out, like he wants to see inside her, and it scares her and intrigues her because she thinks she might let him. When McCoy looks at her, it's comforting and easy and she lets him in because she knows him; it's different with Jim.
Kirk doesn't let people in very easily. He's easy with people, laughing and joking and slapping shoulders and backs, but Christine knows that he keeps his depths hidden from everyone except the people he trusts. That used to mean just McCoy who's known Jim for what feels like forever and has protected him for about that long. Now it means Spock to some extent, although they're still working their way to a real friendship, and Christine who has apparently become a part of his and McCoy's friendship without her knowing it.
Of course, she doesn't realize this until Kirk's birthday.
He's been uncharacteristically quiet all day, his natural enthusiasm and charisma tamped down until he's almost dim. It was strange to see Jim so still, so... small, somehow, and Christine hadn't realized until then just how much she expects Jim to be able to fill up a room with just his presence, with the sheer force of his personality. Even the crew is subdued, following Kirk's mood, and while there is a small celebration for him in the cafeteria, complete with cake and a soft, sweet song by Uhura, it's not really a party; just an acknowledgment of Kirk's birthday, a silent memorial for his father's death, and people don't hang around to wish him a happy birthday and joke with him because they seem to sense that he needs his space.
Except that Christine and McCoy don't seem to be included in the group of people who need to give Jim space. They end up in his quarters where they sit around and drink bourbon and Jim is too quiet for Christine's nerves to take. She finally gets tired of seeing the bruised misery in his eyes and the pained concern in McCoy's, so she moves to plonk herself down next to Kirk and wraps her arms around him. She can feel him jerk in her arms, startled, but she holds on tight and gestures for McCoy to get over here. He moves reluctantly, like he isn't sure it's a good idea, but Christine just gives him a dirty look, so he sits on the other side of Jim, wrapping arms around his waist and resting his head against Jim's.
Jim's whole body is tense, like he's fighting it, but Christine just holds him and strokes his hair, whispers his name against his temple. McCoy presses a kiss against Jim's neck, and Christine can feel the shiver that runs through him as McCoy licks a line up his throat. She looks at Jim and his eyes are dark and wide, his face full of want, and she presses her mouth to his and gives him everything she's been feeling. He moans and kisses her back, nipping her mouth until she makes soft, needy noises, and then he turns and grabs McCoy by his hair, pulling him into a desperate, hot kiss that leaves Christine breathless and wet with desire.
"Oh, Jesus," she moans softly as McCoy licks into Kirk's mouth, letting out a small yelp when Jim drags her closer so McCoy can kiss her, can wrap his long, elegant fingers around her face and kiss her like he needs her to breathe. She can feel Jim's hand slide between her thighs, can feel his fingers slip underneath her panties, and she moans into McCoy's mouth when he pushes two fingers inside her.
It becomes a blur of hands and entangled limbs and heated kisses after that, a mess of sheets and various positions and getting fucked until one or all of them were moaning and screaming and coming so hard, it's almost pain. The first time, Christine comes with her fingers clawing marks into Jim's back while McCoy holds him down and fucks him hard enough that Christine feels it. Jim comes in Christine's mouth the second time while he sucks off McCoy, McCoy's long, blunt fingers clutching handfuls of Jim's hair as he shows Jim exactly what he likes. The third time has McCoy coming with Christine on his cock and Jim in his ass, pulling her down so he can tongue her nipples and make her scream his name.
The fourth time, Christine just watches half-asleep as McCoy fucks Jim with slow, lazy strokes, both of them too tired to be able to climax again, but needing it enough to try anyway. She falls asleep with her arms wrapped around Jim's waist and only barely hears Jim's murmured "Night, Chrissy" and McCoy's soft murmur that might be her name. She can feel their hands on hers, though, and that touch carries her all the way into sleep.
When she wakes up, it feels like nothing is changed, except that everything has. Jim is mashed against her, his face in her tits (of course, she thinks wryly) and his arm wrapped firmly around her waist while McCoy is pressed up against Jim's back, somehow managing to fit against Jim's curves like a puzzle piece.
She pokes gently at Jim's head, grinning when he smacks away her hand. "Wake up, sleepyhead."
"Five more minutes, Ma," he gurgles.
Christine tries really hard not to giggle. "Wake up, idiot," she says fondly. "It's morning."
His eyes open slowly, blinking himself awake. "Whatimezit?" he blurts out, his words rolling together until it sounds like a mashed-up new language.
"Time for our shift," and she sympathizes with his heartfelt groan. She doesn't want to get out of this bed ever either. "Sorry, toots, but there is no excuse for tardiness, not even really amazing sex."
Jim smirks up at her, looking absurdly adorable with his rumpled hair and sleepy eyes. "It was really good sex, wasn't it?"
"At ease, Captain," she laughs. "This bed isn't big enough for you, McCoy, me and your ego."
He clutches at his chest. "How you wound me."
"I will wound you both if you don't shut the hell up," McCoy growls sleepily from behind Jim.
"Awww, who's a grumpy bear?"
"Christine, I will put you over my goddamn knee and spank you if you don't stop right this instant."
Jim perks up. "Oh, God, you promise?"
Christine laughs so hard, she thinks she's going to choke. "Give it up, McCoy," she hoots, too amused by the disgruntled look on McCoy's face to really take him seriously. "You're outnumbered on this one."
Growling unintelligibly, McCoy leans over to kiss Jim, and then Christine, playfully tweaking her nipple in retaliation, before he slowly lumbers out of bed with choice comments on arrogant starship captains and goddamn smart-mouthed nurses, and why did he have to end up with both at the same time? Christine's still laughing when Jim flicks his tongue over her nipples, making her laugh catch in her throat, and she arches up against him with a soft moan.
"We really do have to get ready for our shift," she protests faintly, although she really doesn't care when Jim's got his teeth on her neck and his hands on her hips and his cock in her.
"We will," Jim promises, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm that already has her digging her nails into his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. "We'll just be a few minutes late."
Any minute now, she thinks absently, McCoy's going to come back and it's going to start all over again and she's going to lose her mind and be useless for the rest of the day, and she doesn't care because she got what she wanted, and she's not letting go of it this time.
This may not be a love story, but it's a story about love, and she's finally ready for it.
***
They turn out to be half an hour late to their shift. Close enough.
So the family is kidnapping me for the weekend for Highland Games fun and family shenanigans, which means I won't be around until Monday. Since there will mostly likely be no internet, I won't be able to respond to anything until then. *hand flailing*
Anyway, have a fun weekend, people. I'll talk to you all soonest! ♥
Also, despite the fact that this is Chapel/Kirk/McCoy threesome fic and a hard R, I fail at bringing the porn. Mea culpa. I just hope it doesn't suck.
So much love for superjoydrop for editing and cheerleading and gently reminding me of all the Star Trek terms I forget to put in because it's usually eleven at night when I'm writing this. The Joan Jett song is for her because she's just that awesome. The "whiskey versus vodka" argument is for charliehey because she likes this sort of thing and she made me this icon, which I love and adore. The Admiral Archer mention is for traveller because she alerted me to what a bamf he truly is. ♥, darlingface.
This Is Not A Love Song
Chapel and Kirk don't meet in the usual, cute, makes-a-great-dinner-story kind of way. There is no decades-long friendship that suddenly turns into fake orgasms at a dining table and lifelong love, there is no antagonistic verbal sparring over books that hides how they really feel about each other, Christine does not wear vibrating underwear to get a boyfriend and Jim has not time-traveled from eighteenth-century England because of bullshit science.
This is not a love story and they are not in love.
Christine had been in love once. It had led to her being left at the altar while her husband-to-be ran off to another planet to study artificial intelligence and play demi-god with peoples' lives.
She's not ever doing that again.
How Kirk and Chapel meet goes like this: they're on the Enterprise getting ready to launch for the first time ever and Chapel is stocking the vaccines and hyposprays in the supply cupboard when McCoy bursts in with a sweaty, groaning, puffy mess that he calls Jim, sedates him, and watches over him while he sleeps. Christine already knows that McCoy's breaking all the rules because he keeps looking around the Sickbay like he expects someone to come in and clap him in irons for whatever transgression he's committed. She sighs and tells him that he'd better at least buy her a drink, a good drink, for her silence because she's not easy or cheap. He agrees with a kind of baffled amusement that turns out to be the other side of his defensive anger, and they end up exchanging names and stories after everything has calmed down and they're on their way back to Starfleet.
The first time Chapel meets Kirk, he's a puffy, drugged-out mess, and she isn't impressed by him at all.
Eventually, Kirk jolts awake after the Russian kid's hard-to-understand announcement about a lightning storm in space and everything just goes downhill from then on. After that, it's the Captain being taken hostage, it's Vulcan being destroyed, it's Dr. Puri bleeding out slowly and painfully as McCoy yells at her to hold her hand steady against the goddamn wound while the ship rocks and sparks and threatens to tear apart, it's chaos and confusion and a never-ending onslaught of terror and pain and fear.
It's almost enough to make her reconsider a Starfleet career, except that she's never given up on anything in her life and she's not about to start now. Besides, her patients need her, Starfleet needs her, McCoy needs her if only to get everything done right the first time and run interference for him when it comes to Kirk.
Christine stays.
The second time she meets Kirk is after the Vulcan survivors have been beamed aboard and transferred to Sickbay. McCoy, Chapel, and the few medical aides they have are doing what they can to clean up the cuts and scrapes, bandaging wounds while McCoy runs the tricorder over them and checks for internal damages. Christine has never seen so many shocked, pained, frightened faces in her life, and the fact that she's seeing these expressions on Vulcan faces terrifies her on a deep level. She's used to Vulcans being in control of themselves; she's not sure how to deal with these hurt, scared, vulnerable people who have lost their entire world and their mates in the span of minutes.
She keeps it together, shoving everything down and pressing her lips together to keep it all inside, if only to not give McCoy a reason to dress her down in front of everyone, and sees to as many wounded as she can while McCoy sees to the rest. She's just finished regenerating skin for one of the Vulcan elders who'd been scraped up by the falling rocks of Vulcan when she notices Kirk sitting on the medbed next to a young Vulcan girl. He's carefully wrapping a bandage around her hand, talking softly to her, her little dark head bending towards his as she leans in to hear what he's saying, and listening intently when she answers his questions in a dazed voice.
Christine feels something inside her twist painfully at the lost, blank look on the little girl's face, and she has a moment of vicious, mindless hatred for the madman who caused all of this, who destroyed so many people for his own agenda. Then she sees Kirk gently take the girl's uninjured hand in his, sees him let her squeeze as hard as she can, even though her Vulcan strength obviously pains him, and sings her a soft, tender song in a language Christine can't identify except to say that it isn't Vulcan.
She likes Kirk a little more after that; not enough to call him Captain or follow him into whatever mad plan he's cooked up to save whatever needs saving, but it's only the second time she's met him and she doesn't know that she's going to be inextricably bound to him for as long as she's on the Enterprise.
That knowledge comes much later.
Much, much later, when Kirk and Spock save the Earth, and that Engineering fella that Kirk had brought aboard with him (since Christine wasn't involved in anything bridge-related, she's had to rely on ship's gossip to keep her updated on what's going on, and consensus on Scotty is that he's a genius, a bit weird, and very Scottish, which explains the first two points) has stopped them from being sucked through time (again) and they're limping back to the nearest starbase on impulse power (since they'd had to jettison the warp nacelles just to get out of the impending black hole), Christine flops down on a chair in the cafeteria, stretches her arms out on the table and rests her head on them, and lets out a long, deep sigh that feels like it had been held in for years, not hours.
"You said it," Uhura says from behind her.
Christine is too tired to do more than give her a graceless wave, not even moving her head from its prone position. She hears Uhura laugh softly, hears the clink of glasses by her head, and then there's a slightly hollow thunk as a glass is placed by her hand. Reluctantly, she lifts her head and makes a small, relieved sound as she sees Uhura pour her a replicated rum and Coke. "You're a godsend, Nyota," she mumbles, sitting up enough to take a deep swig that would have her mother sighing about manners.
Uhura just nods and clinks her glass against Chapel's, drinking hers in much the same manner as Christine. "So," she says after a few moments of savoring the way the rum lights a small fire in her belly, "hell of a first mission, huh?"
Finishing her drink in record time, for her, Chapel gives an unladylike snort. "There's the fucking understatement of the year."
Uhura lets out a bark of surprised laughter and then covers her mouth with her hand, like she's trying to hold it inside. Chapel looks at her for a minute, trying to figure out if she's being laughed at or with, then it hits her, and she bursts out laughing too. In the abstract, she knows they're not laughing because she said the word 'fuck'; she knows they're laughing because they all came close to death about a hundred times, which is a hundred times too many, and laughing about surviving is better than crying and screaming about it, but that's the abstract, and they're both very much in the present.
There's time for grieving later, when they're home and safe and can deal with everything and everyone they've lost. For now, they've flown in the face of danger and survived. So she laughs with Uhura, her hands pressed firmly against the table to hold her steady as she lets out all that ever-present fear and anger, and if there's a slight tinge of hysteria coloring their laughter, no one mentions it because everyone else is feeling the same thing.
"Oh, Jesus," she says weakly, pressing her hand to her chest as she tries to catch her breath. "Too much."
Uhura wipes away tears from her eyes. "God, that felt good," she says with a sigh. "I've been trying not to scream for the past couple of hours."
"Christ, me too," Christine groans, feeling her muscles ache with all the tension she's holding in. "It's been insanity in Sickbay. I can't even imagine what the bridge was like."
"Chaos," Uhura says softly, absently rubbing her fingers against her temple as if to ward off a headache. "I've been fielding Starfleet commands for the past hour, not to mention monitoring the frequencies for any kind of non-Federation message about what's going on." She sits up a little straighter, her mouth flattening into a thin line. "I don't even know what's going to happen after we get back, you know. I mean," she shrugs helplessly, "we saved Earth and all, but. What do we do now?"
Her voice sounds small and lost, and Christine scrubs at her face and wonders if it would be bad form to get absolutely shitfaced and scream until she cries. She's not ready for Nyota to not be the strong one; she doesn't think she can be strong enough for the both of them.
"I need to get drunk," she announces, and Uhura nods, although she makes no move to get them more rum and Cokes. "I suppose it's my turn?"
Uhura smiles a little. "I'd move, but my legs have become one with the plastic seat."
Chapel can do distraction, she's good at that. She can tease and distract Nyota away from thinking about whatever it is that's got her looking like she's on the verge of tears and Nyota should not be crying when her boyfriend is not here to hold her and comfort her. So she teases, "You're communing with your chair?"
"I am trying to achieve nirvana through it."
Chapel giggles. "You're hopeless," she says into her drink, which gets Nyota laughing again, and it does Christine's heart good to see her do that. "Fine, stay here and I'll go get us more booze. Rum and Coke?"
Uhura's face wrinkles with concentration, which is kind of a cute look on her, although Christine doesn't dare say it out loud. "I want something colorful and fruity," she says slowly as if the thought is occurring to her as she speaks.
Chapel rolls her eyes. "What a surprise."
"Like you're not going to get a pink cocktail," Uhura retorts easily.
Christine makes a face. "I knew telling you about my bar days was going to come back to bite me in the ass." She carefully gets to her feet, groaning as she feels all her muscles protest strenuously about moving, and heads towards the nearest replicator. She hears Nyota's laughing "But I had to know about you dancing on the bar table on your eighteenth birthday. And you weren't even drunk," she adds with a giggle, and Christine wonders why she gets so stupid and talky around her when all Uhura does is tease her about it.
Stupid crush, she grumbles to herself. Not that she's going to do anything about it because even if Nyota wasn't as straight as a ruler, she's also with Spock, something else the ship's gossips had revealed, and Christine knows enough to know that she's no competition for a goddamn Vulcan. Spock isn't even her type and she can see the attraction.
When she comes back with their drinks (Bajoran Slingshot for Nyota and a Chocolatini for her), Nyota's sitting and talking to the Engineering guy -- what was his name, Scotty? -- with an amused look on her face. There are two glasses of whiskey and a bottle in front of them and he's trying to persuade her to take a shot while she laughs and shakes her head. Christine slides into her seat and carefully places Uhura's drink in front of her. "Drink up."
"Are you drinking that?" Scotty looks aghast at the drink in Chapel's hand.
"I bought it, didn't I?" Chapel scowls, wishing she had enough credits to justify wasting this drink by spilling it on him.
"But it's so..." He gestures helplessly at it, like he's never even seen a Chocolatini before, and whatever, it's chocolate and booze and it's fucking delicious, so screw you, Scotty.
"Chocolatey?" Nyota asks delightedly, ignoring Chapel flipping her off as she takes a sip of her Slingshot and makes pleased, happy noises that go straight to Christine's head.
"At least it's not pink," Christine says mulishly, which just makes Uhura laugh even more, and after a moment, Christine grins and lets it go. They've just been through hell and back, and all of them need to laugh and cry and forget for a while, so if there's a bit of teasing and laughter, what the hell? It'd be funny if it wasn't happening to her, and she can appreciate how ridiculous this whole conversation is.
"Whiskey," Scotty says decisively, picking up one of the glasses and admiring the amber glow in it, "now that's a man's drink."
Chapel makes a face. "You're welcome to it then. I've never liked the taste of whiskey."
"Me either, unless it's Jack Daniels," Uhura pipes up, her eyes a little glazed over, which means that she's already tipsy. She's such an easy drunk. Christine's told her as much and as many times, usually when they used to go drinking at the Academy with Uhura snuggled against her, her head on Christine's shoulder, singing a soft song about another world that Christine has never even heard of, but that Uhura has studied intensively because she'd found it interesting.
Christine's not in love with Nyota, but she does care about her, and maybe part of that is the infatuation, but most of it is just because Uhura is who she is, brilliant and sure of herself and intensely interested in everything the world has to offer, and she's also a damn good friend, which Christine needs in her life these days. Besides, she can see Nyota's face every time Spock looks at her. That's love; Christine doesn't mess with that kind of emotion.
Scotty is still expounding on the joys of whiskey, but Chapel's no longer irritated because she likes how he says things, all excited high notes and melodious lilts and long, slow r's that ring pleasantly in her ear. Halfway through his excited handflap over some Irish whiskey brewed in oak barrels and blah, blah, blah, there's a thump as someone places a bottle and a glass on the table, and Christine turns around to see the Russian kid -- Cheruv? Chekov? Chablis? no, wait, that's French, never mind -- slide into the seat next to her and across from Scotty and Nyota with a mischievous grin.
"Vodka is better," he argues, looking at Scotty with a glint in his eye, and it has a familiar sound to it, this conversation, like it's something they've argued about before and this is just them sliding back into the argument like they'd never left.
"Bah," Scotty grumbles, downing his whiskey with a gulp and sucking in the air through his teeth as the burn hits his throat. "Turpentine. I would use it to clean the ship's pipes."
Chekov's mouth makes a moue of disgust as he rolls the empty glass around in his hand. "Whiskey is rotten grain."
"Blasphemy," Scotty roars, sending Uhura and Chapel in gales of laughter at the outrage on his face. "You wouldn't know good alcohol if it bit you in the arse."
"I cannot believe I was going to waste vodka on you," Chekov says with a scowl, picking up the bottle and pouring himself a drink. He downs it with a defiant look at Scotty, and Chapel has to resist the urge to squeeze the kid until he pops. He's forty going on seventeen while looking twelve; she's pretty sure he'd hate her forever if she made him feel like a cute kid. She just drinks her ridiculously boozy chocolate drink and lets Uhura snuggle up against her and laughs as Scotty and Chekov go from arguing about alcohol to arguing about transwarp theory, breaking out the data pads that seem to always be present on engineers when working out their proofs.
It's surviving, she thinks as she rests her head against Nyota's, it's doing what they have to do to get through the horror and be strong enough to pick up the pieces and start all over again. It's how they survive out in the black and Chapel's grateful for all of them at the table because for a while, she forgets that later, she's going to cry and break down and have nightmares for months and not sleep properly for even longer than that. She has a moment of respite and she's grateful for it.
***
After that, the whole world becomes a blur of speeches from Starfleet higher-ups, commendations, psych evaluations, and memorials for the lost Vulcans and cadets. Christine hates most of everything except for the memorials. She cries at every single one, even though she hates crying, and most of Starfleet cries along with her because they understand. Uhura and Spock flank her at the memorial for the Vulcans, which makes her glad because it makes her try to hold it together so as to not embarrass herself in front of Spock. But then Nyota holds his hand when they're asked for a moment of silence, and Christine breaks down, trying to hide her face and feeling like a fool but unable to stop herself.
Spock quietly hands her a handkerchief, a look of understanding on his face, and it makes Christine cry even harder because he should not be comforting her while he's still mourning the loss of his people and his planet and oh God, his mother. There's some sort of silent signal between Spock and Nyota because before she knows it, they press closer, Spock's arm touching hers while Nyota slips her hand into Christine's. It gives her the strength to take a deep breath and straighten up, to wipe away her tears and keep a silent vigil for Vulcan and its people, for Spock and his mother, for them and the part of their lives that they've lost.
The memorial for the cadets is just as bad. McCoy's the one holding her steady this time, his arm wrapped around her waist and his handkerchief pressed into her hands as she silently cries into it. Kirk isn't with them, she notices, he's in front of them giving a subdued but heartfelt speech about all the sacrifices made and good people lost and how they have to find some way to go on. Chapel hates speeches as a general rule, except for the ones by Admiral Archer who actually knows what he's talking about and genuinely cares, but she likes Kirk's because she knows that his grief comes from a genuine place, that it isn't just speechifying and grandstanding by people who haven't been in battle in years and don't understand what it was like out there.
Kirk looks solemn as he gives his speech, bruises still marring his face, and Christine remembers the quiet, gentle man comforting a lost Vulcan child in her Sickbay. Kirk's reputation as a brash, reckless, genius asshole who'd tomcatted around the Academy had preceded him, of course, but Christine thinks that it won't anymore, not after this. In fact, anyone who has anything bad to say about Jim Kirk after this is going to get punched in the balls because no one who damn near gave his life to save the planet is going to get talked about with any kind of disrespect, same goes for Spock if anyone dares to take him on. Chapel's going to make sure of it.
She says as much to McCoy and earns his undying loyalty because apparently, all you have to do to get McCoy on your side is to be the goddamn best at whatever you're good at and swear loyalty to Jim. Chapel's already done both, so she's got McCoy solidly in her corner. It's a nice feeling, especially since she'd only had Gaila and Nyota before; now she has Spock and McCoy, and possibly even Scotty and Chekov, despite not drinking whiskey or vodka. More people backing her up is always welcome.
It's only the third time she's been around Jim and she's already promised to look out for him. It's a strange feeling, but McCoy says that's the way it goes with Jim and she'll get used to it in time. She isn't sure she wants that.
***
She'd gotten permanently assigned to the Enterprise after getting a commendation for going above and beyond the call of duty, and she has McCoy to thank for that. If he wasn't such a prickly bastard, she'd kiss him for fighting for her. Instead, she settles into her role as Head Nurse (officially) and McCoy's right hand (unofficially), and learns the rhythms of life on a starship as they go exploring in space.
She helps McCoy treat a variety of alien viruses, both of them doing research and synthesizing the vaccines needed, a variety of good old Earth diseases (McCoy treats them, she gives them the "no glove, no love" lecture in exactly the same tone of voice her mother used on her, and it simultaneously makes her feel old and miss her mother), and a staggering number of weapon-related wounds, of which Jim Kirk seems to be the main star.
The first time Kirk comes in with a deep knife wound and a noticeable loss of blood, she does her job in assisting McCoy and does not say anything about the way his hand trembles as he slips in the IV needle. The sixth time Kirk comes to the Sickbay, it's with a spear through his chest and a deathly look on his face. Chapel holds him down as McCoy takes it out, her hands clenched tightly against Kirk's shoulders as he screams with pain and then passes out.
After he's patched up and pumped full of antibiotics and their shift has ended, McCoy drags Chapel into his office, sets up the door lock, and proceeds to get both of them drunk. His hands are shaking as he pours the drinks and hers tremble badly as she takes a big gulp that hurts her throat going down, but the booze gets to where it's going and McCoy spends the next hour drinking and cursing the name James Tiberius Kirk with every breath he takes. Christine wraps her arm around his shoulders and lets him rant until he runs out of fear and anger, until it's just concern and worry making him shake.
"He's fine now," she says softly.
"Yeah, now," he growls, and Christine has a feeling that this isn't the first time Kirk's done something like this nor is this the first time McCoy's had to patch up Kirk after a bad injury.
"He does this often?"
McCoy closes his eyes as if the thought is too much for him. "All the goddamn time," he finally murmurs.
Christine's mouth quirks up in a small smile. "You should strap him down to the bed. He won't get into any trouble then."
"Tried that," McCoy deadpans. "He chewed through the straps."
Chapel blinks at him for a moment, trying to decide whether he's kidding or not, and then she sees the edge of his mouth curl up into a smile and she lets out a loud burst of laughter. "Bastard," she chuckles, "I almost believed you."
McCoy's still grinning as he finishes off his drink. "That's 'cause you're gullible, sweetheart."
Christine rolls her eyes. "You know I've killed lesser men for calling me that, right?"
"With what, your tongue?" McCoy snorts. "I can believe that."
"You're one to talk," Christine says with mock-outrage. "I'm honestly surprised to see that you haven't yet managed to skin anyone alive with just your words."
"Wait and see," McCoy says grimly, pouring them both another drink. "We've only been out in the black for a month. It's gonna get worse."
"You're a real ray of fucking sunshine, McCoy," Chapel sighs as she takes a sip from her refreshed drink.
"And this is me when I'm calm."
"I knew I should've become a vet like Mom wanted me to."
He laughs at that. "Christine, my girl, you've got a terrible bedside manner, a no-bullshit attitude, and the biggest set of balls this side of Jim, only with a lot more brains. You're gonna be a great doctor someday."
It's the nicest thing he's ever said to her. She decides not to mock his age this once.
***
She gets used to all of it, that's the thing. She gets used to the chaos of Sickbay, the missions and their consequences, having a drink and talking with McCoy after their shift ends, and seeing Jim Kirk in Sickbay at least once every few days. He's in there often enough that they're now on a first-name basis, his name said in a stern voice, her name said with a flirtatious edge that makes her roll her eyes at him, even as she's repressing a smile. Once he finds out that she and McCoy hang out after their shifts end (and demands to know why he wasn't invited, pouting when they explain that he usually tends to be the reason they're in there drinking), he invites them to the rec room for game night.
Game night turns out to be an excuse to play cards and pool and get pleasantly drunk. There's some retro music playing, usually Journey because some of the engineers have a thing for twentieth-century arena rock, and Christine sways to the music, singing about living in a lonely world under her breath because she doesn't want anyone to know she loves this song. There are quite a few crewmembers already milling about racking up balls or anteing up for the kitty, so Christine grabs a drink and sits at the poker table with McCoy and Jim.
The game's announced, the cards are dealt, and everyone immediately starts hoarding their cards like they're made out of gold. Christine's got a good poker face, according to her mom, and she isn't afraid to bet big, so she wins a few games due to sheer nerve. Kirk wins the rest because he has a better poker face and is insanely competitive, and also because he cheats like the bastard he is. Christine wishes she'd thought of it first.
It's the last game and it's down to Kirk and her. Scotty had to fold because he's clean out of money, Ensign Riley isn't allowed to trade in his car back home for another chance to go against Kirk, and McCoy had sat the game out a long time ago, content to watch this tomfoolery and make sarcastic comments about everyone and everything. Christine knows damn well that she's got shit cards, but she can bluff with the best of them, and she refuses to let that cheating bastard she calls Captain win this game.
"You all in, Christine?" he asks gleefully, waggling his eyebrows.
She manages not to throw peanuts at him, even though he's practically taunting her. "Get ready to weep and beg for mercy, Jim."
"Oh, I'll--"
"Do not," she says sternly, "finish that sentence if you want your testicles to stay where they're supposed to be."
Kirk giggles into his drink, and Christine hates that she finds that cute. "I love a woman who can maim me without even batting an eyelash."
Christine makes a face as she looks at her cards again. Nope, they still suck. "This explains so much about your love life," she says dryly, and even McCoy whoops with laughter over that.
"Keep talking, Chrissy," Kirk smirks, waving his fan of cards in front of her like a challenge. "You're gonna be apologizing soon enough."
"Bring it, Jimmy."
She loses, of course. He has a full house and she has nothing, but she bluffs beautifully enough that he actually looks worried for a while, and the look of sheer relief on his face when he finally sees her cards is enough to make up for losing to him. "Jesus, Chapel," he groans, "remind me to never get into a land war in Asia with you. I'd fucking lose."
She isn't sure what gets her more, the fact that he's praising her or the fact that he quoted her favorite movie of all time. She thinks it may be the movie. "Right," she says finally, feeling flushed with some unnamed emotion that she does not want to look at too closely right now. "I think it's my bedtime now."
Kirk smiles as she rises from the table and heads towards the exit. "Guess I'll just have to take everyone else's money then." There's a round of groans from around the table, and Christine smiles at the theatrics as she waves good night to them. She's halfway down the hall before she silently panics over the idea of finding Kirk attractive in any way that isn't immediately followed by the qualifier "but I also want to hit him with a rock."
By now, Christine can't remember how many times she's met up with Kirk, but she knows it's the first time she's thought about what it would be like to kiss that laughing mouth, to have him between her thighs to do as she pleased. She spends the rest of the night tossing and turning at the thought of Kirk naked and underneath her, his Academy reputation of being wild and fun in bed burning knowledge into her brain, and when she wakes up the next day, she's even grumpier and crankier than McCoy who is amused by the development.
She calls him "old man" and his face settles back into a scowl. She grins and goes about the rest of her day.
***
Life settles into a routine after that. Every week is some new disaster that keeps McCoy and Chapel up for days trying to find a cure, the cure seems to always be for some hapless away team member (usually Kirk), McCoy yells and stomps around at them for being so stupid (usually Kirk), he and Chapel spend a few hours in his office having mini-breakdowns over who almost died this week (usually Kirk) while taking a drink to steady their nerves before someone (usually Kirk) drags them into the rec room for a friendly game of cards or pool or foozball to relax them.
Or as Kirk says, "You fuckers drink too much. Come beat me at a game for once, it'll make you feel better." And Christine and McCoy sigh and roll their eyes and follow him to the rec room where McCoy lounges on the couch and snipes at Kirk all night long while Christine plays whatever game he suggests and does her damnedest to beat him.
She's pretty good at keeping up with him, even though he eventually beats her if only because he won't ever fucking quit and just wears her down until she gives in and leaves, and the only thing she's ever managed to defeat him in is pool. Christine is a pool shark from way back when and Kirk doesn't even stand a chance against her. The first time she wins, he's amused and offers a rematch just to see if she can do it again. The second time she wins, he's not as amused, but he offers her another chance to best him, seemingly convinced that Christine's just having a really good streak. The tenth time she wins, he's grim-faced and pissed off, calculating angles and making crazy, impossible moves that defy the laws of physics.
Christine beats the pants off of him with a smile.
Kirk doesn't talk to her for two days, sulking in his quarters when he's not in Sickbay and sulking far away from Christine when he's forced to be in Sickbay for whatever official and unofficial reason. Christine is amused as hell because who knew that Kirk was such a sore loser? McCoy is practically giddy with delight that someone finally bested Kirk in something and starts calling her Fast Eddie every time Kirk is around. He actually has Scotty make up a little trophy for her that says 'Universe's Best Pool Shark', which Christine puts on her desk in the most obvious spot just to annoy Kirk.
After two days, Jim comes up to her and apologizes for being a jerk, a sheepish grin on his face, and Christine just waves it off. He wouldn't be Kirk if he wasn't an idiot sometimes. Christine knows that being a genius doesn't preclude you from acting like a socially inept moron sometimes, and unlike most brilliant people, at least Kirk apologizes for his behavior.
At the next pool game, Kirk teams up with her against Ensign Hudak and Lieutenant Orgoth and wins fifty credits off of them with Christine's skills. He's in a good mood again, kissing Christine on the cheek, wrapping his arms around Christine and McCoy's shoulders and calling them his best buds. McCoy mocks Kirk for the entire evening for that, but it doesn't dim Kirk's smile, and Chapel feels stupidly warm and happy inside, even as she berates herself for acting so ridiculous.
It's about the hundredth time she's hung out with Kirk and Christine is finally ready to admit that maybe she has a thing for him.
***
She also has a thing for McCoy, but she feels less ridiculous about this.
Despite his grumbling and cantankerous attitude, McCoy understands her on a level that many people don't. He gets why she's so driven, why she's dreamed of being in space from the time she was little, why she's here on this bucket of rust and bolts fighting to keep people alive and grieving when they fail. He understands why she doesn't want to get married and why she only has a small, carefully chosen circle of friends that she trusts with herself and her life, and in return, she understands things about him that he keeps hidden from the rest of the crew.
She understands why he ran so far away from his old life, even though it meant leaving his child behind, something he regrets every single day of his life. She understands how he uses his anger to hide that he cares, more than he should in some cases, how he sometimes needs to be alone when he's lost a patient so he can drink his scotch and pretend it isn't tearing him up inside because he takes every death personally, just like Jim. She knows that when he says "Goddammit, Jim," what he really means is "I love you, dammit."
McCoy's an open book in comparison to Jim. He's all cartoon pictures and brightly colored paintings with big, easy-to-read words and footnotes in case you didn't get it the first time; Jim, however, is a really complicated math textbook, full of inexplicable equations, confusing diagrams, and graphs that make no sense to anyone who doesn't have an off-the-scale IQ, and maybe even then. She has trouble reading Jim most of the time, which is why she needs McCoy around to translate for her. She has no idea how anyone who smiles as much as Kirk can keep so many secrets, but he does, and it's slow, hard work getting him to open up and trust her with small bits of himself, but she understands how that goes because it's hard enough to trust him with the bits of her past that she tries to forget.
It's months of being around each other and getting drunk and laughing and joking and carefully revealing the broken parts of themselves that they take great pains to hide from the rest of the world. Jim never knew his father, McCoy lost his family to divorce, Christine got left at the altar; Jim hated his stepfather, McCoy and his father never saw eye to eye on anything, Christine's father shut himself up in his study and faded away in front of her eyes until it was just her and her mom and their big, empty house that felt like a tomb. They're all damaged in some way, she thinks one night when her brain is buzzing and sleep is elusive. They have all had chunks of their hearts torn out by the small, petty cruelties of life, but they've managed to soldier on and build friendships and live a good life despite all of it, or maybe because of it.
Christine doesn't know, really. She just knows that she's glad to be here on this ship with these people doing the job she loves to do; she feels like she finally belongs here, like she's finally where she's supposed to be, and maybe her life wasn't perfect before, but it's pretty good now, and she wouldn't trade anything for that.
Sighing, she punches her pillow until it feels comfortable and tries to fall asleep again. She'll talk to McCoy about all of this in the morning and he'll find some way to make it make sense while Jim will make her laugh and forget. They're good at that sort of thing.
***
It's her birthday and she's just pulled a double shift, which just makes everything that much better. Her mother had called her and left her a cheerful birthday message, which makes Christine ache with how much she misses her, and she promises herself that she'll call her back soon.
She's in her quarters toweling off after her sonic shower (which she hates, she misses the sting of water on her skin and the massager option on her antique showerhead) and listening to her favorite song. She'd turned off the comm a while ago so that she'd get a little peace and quiet before the next crisis starts. As Joan Jett sings about how she don't give a damn about her bad reputation, Christine is sliding on her underwear and tank top, bopping her head along to the song, and singing along with Joan. It's the first time in weeks that she's been able to have a moment to herself and just let go. She just cranks her music and shakes her ass and bangs her head and forgets for a moment that she's McCoy's right hand with responsibilities and a possible thing for her idiot captain, and dances like no one's watching, strumming her air guitar and singing into an imaginary microphone and being as ridiculous as she feels like being.
It feels like she's been dancing for hours, shimmying her hips and bouncing around the room in time to the music and singing along with all the songs, and she's missed this feeling of slowed-down time and joyous freedom She wants it to last forever, even though she knows that's not possible. Something's going to pop up soon and drag her back to Sickbay, and she'll have to shove herself back into her uniform again and become Nurse Chapel once more. So she might as well enjoy this while she can.
Then she spins around during the bridge and catches sight of Kirk leaning up against nearby wall, watching her with a sweet, genuine smile on his face and interest in his eyes. She screams and grabs the first thing she can get her hands on (a jar of her face cream) and lobs it at him. Christine used to play shortstop back when she was a kid so her aim is damn good, but Kirk's been bobbing and weaving since long before that, so he ducks the projectile and stays down as it crashes into the wall just by his head, and holds up his hands. "Whoa," he says in a panicked tone of voice. "Whoa, whoa, Chapel, it's just me."
"I know it's you, you jerk," she says in a high-pitched voice that borders on a screech, and she looks towards her dresser, trying to find more things to throw at him. "What the fuck are you doing in my quarters? How did you even get in?"
Kirk has the grace to look ashamed. "I, uh, I overrode your security lock."
She grabs a bottle of cheap perfume that she's never used (she really needs to start cleaning up and throwing out all the useless shit in her room, and God, isn't that a metaphor for her life?) and throws it at him, fury warring with humiliation that he would violate her privacy like this. "Why?" She picks up the next thing on her desk, a sharpener for her eyeliner, and flings it at him, watching angrily as it bounces off the wall and lands with a clatter on the floor.
"Jesus, Chapel," Kirk swears, his eyes wide with shock. "Calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down, you asshole," she yells, flinging whatever she can get her hands on and watching as he ducks and sidesteps them easily. "You are in my quarters without my permission watching me dance around in my underwear." Wisely, he does not say anything, which means that she won't have to maim him for life, just hurt him a little for now. "Why are you here?" she finally spits out, having finally run out of objects on her dresser to throw at him. Although she's got drawers full of things that are heavy and will make satisfying smashing noises if he doesn't have a goddamn good explanation.
Kirk holds up his hands in surrender. "McCoy asked me to check on you," he says quickly as if he can sense her thoughts about launching more things at him. "He's been trying to reach you on the comm, but you weren't answering, and we thought--" He straightens up, looking at her with a half-angry, half-worried glare that does nothing to calm her down. "We thought you might be hurt."
"And you decided to help me by breaking into my quarters?" she asks scathingly, wondering if she'd get court-martialed for castrating him. Maybe if she explained the circumstances...
"You weren't answering your comm," Kirk growls, spitting out each word in an accusatory tone. "We thought something bad had happened to you. We-- we were scared," he adds in a soft voice, as if the thought has just occurred to him, and fuck, fuck, he does not get to do that to her when she's worked up a righteous anger and needs to let it out.
"I swear to God, Kirk--" she starts threateningly.
"I know," Kirk says apologetically, and he's managed to find Christine's robe somewhere in the mess that is her living area and is handing it to her like a peace offering. She grabs it and quickly shrugs it on, glaring at him some more because she's not done being angry over him breaking into her quarters; she really doesn't give as much of a shit about the dancing because it's not like he hasn't seen her make a fool of herself in about a hundred other situations before.
"I'm really sorry, Christine." He must've said it five times already, but it's still not enough.
"What do you want?" she says tiredly, feeling every one of her twenty-seven years and wishing Jim would leave so she could just sleep the rest of her crappy birthday away.
He goes back to where he was standing before and picks up a brightly wrapped gift that he brings back to her. "Here," he says with a cautious smile. "Happy birthday."
She eyes it suspiciously. "What is it? Is it alien sex toys? Because I'm not fucking opening it if it is."
Kirk looks exasperated. "Just open it, will you? You're such a killjoy."
"I just know you," she says archly, ripping off the bow and tearing off the paper. She lifts up the lid of the box and stares blankly at the music cubes inside. She picks one up and reads the label. "Janis Joplin." Another one says Jimi Hendrix. One more says Led Zeppelin. She goes through them all: Journey, AC/DC, Madonna, the Beatles, Cher, Prince, all the artists she loves, all the music she dances to, all in this one box. She looks up at Jim with a question on her face.
"Do you like it?" he asks anxiously. "Bones told me some of the stuff you liked and I guessed the rest, and maybe I'm wrong, but who doesn't like the Rolling Stones, right?" He looks at her with something akin to panic in his eyes. "Oh, God, you do like the Stones, right? I didn't fuck up there?"
She starts laughing because she really can't help it. Jim Kirk, delinquent genius and raging terror of the Academy who made Captain before he was thirty, is terrified that she won't like the birthday gift he and his friend picked out for her. Clutching the Prince music cube in one hand, she reaches for him with the other and hugs him tightly, pressing a fierce kiss against his cheek. "You are a total sweetheart," she says warmly, meaning it, feeling something bloom and expand in her chest. "And so is McCoy," she adds with a mischievous grin. "I hope he knows he's going to get hugged and kissed for this."
Kirk's smile lights up the room. "He's waiting for it. We're having a small party for you in McCoy's quarters."
"At least you didn't say 'in my pants'," she says dryly.
Grinning wickedly, he leans in and steals a kiss from her, making her breath catch as he lingers against her mouth. "Maybe another time," he murmurs, giving her a look that she can't quite decipher, except that it makes her heart beat faster. "For now," he tugs at the collar of her robe, "get dressed. We've got some celebrating to do."
As she shrugs into her Starfleet pants, Christine reflects that this is one of the strangest yet most fun birthdays she's had so far. She also wonders how much longer they can do this dance before one of them gives in.
"Chrissy?" Jim's voice is gleeful, and she does not want to ask, but it's like a compulsion; she can't help herself.
"What?"
"You're a freeeeeeeeeeak."
She punches his shoulder. Hard. "Shut up, Jimmy."
***
Things all come to a head on Jim's birthday.
It's been almost a year since Vulcan, eight months since they started this mission, seven and a half months since Christine started hanging out with McCoy and Kirk and getting involved in their crazy reindeer games, four months since she started thinking about Kirk naked, been thinking about McCoy naked, and she still doesn't know what to do with any of this. She wants to pretend that none of this matters, that Kirk just flirts with her like he flirts with everyone else and it means nothing, but he looks at her so intently sometimes, like he's trying to figure her out, like he wants to see inside her, and it scares her and intrigues her because she thinks she might let him. When McCoy looks at her, it's comforting and easy and she lets him in because she knows him; it's different with Jim.
Kirk doesn't let people in very easily. He's easy with people, laughing and joking and slapping shoulders and backs, but Christine knows that he keeps his depths hidden from everyone except the people he trusts. That used to mean just McCoy who's known Jim for what feels like forever and has protected him for about that long. Now it means Spock to some extent, although they're still working their way to a real friendship, and Christine who has apparently become a part of his and McCoy's friendship without her knowing it.
Of course, she doesn't realize this until Kirk's birthday.
He's been uncharacteristically quiet all day, his natural enthusiasm and charisma tamped down until he's almost dim. It was strange to see Jim so still, so... small, somehow, and Christine hadn't realized until then just how much she expects Jim to be able to fill up a room with just his presence, with the sheer force of his personality. Even the crew is subdued, following Kirk's mood, and while there is a small celebration for him in the cafeteria, complete with cake and a soft, sweet song by Uhura, it's not really a party; just an acknowledgment of Kirk's birthday, a silent memorial for his father's death, and people don't hang around to wish him a happy birthday and joke with him because they seem to sense that he needs his space.
Except that Christine and McCoy don't seem to be included in the group of people who need to give Jim space. They end up in his quarters where they sit around and drink bourbon and Jim is too quiet for Christine's nerves to take. She finally gets tired of seeing the bruised misery in his eyes and the pained concern in McCoy's, so she moves to plonk herself down next to Kirk and wraps her arms around him. She can feel him jerk in her arms, startled, but she holds on tight and gestures for McCoy to get over here. He moves reluctantly, like he isn't sure it's a good idea, but Christine just gives him a dirty look, so he sits on the other side of Jim, wrapping arms around his waist and resting his head against Jim's.
Jim's whole body is tense, like he's fighting it, but Christine just holds him and strokes his hair, whispers his name against his temple. McCoy presses a kiss against Jim's neck, and Christine can feel the shiver that runs through him as McCoy licks a line up his throat. She looks at Jim and his eyes are dark and wide, his face full of want, and she presses her mouth to his and gives him everything she's been feeling. He moans and kisses her back, nipping her mouth until she makes soft, needy noises, and then he turns and grabs McCoy by his hair, pulling him into a desperate, hot kiss that leaves Christine breathless and wet with desire.
"Oh, Jesus," she moans softly as McCoy licks into Kirk's mouth, letting out a small yelp when Jim drags her closer so McCoy can kiss her, can wrap his long, elegant fingers around her face and kiss her like he needs her to breathe. She can feel Jim's hand slide between her thighs, can feel his fingers slip underneath her panties, and she moans into McCoy's mouth when he pushes two fingers inside her.
It becomes a blur of hands and entangled limbs and heated kisses after that, a mess of sheets and various positions and getting fucked until one or all of them were moaning and screaming and coming so hard, it's almost pain. The first time, Christine comes with her fingers clawing marks into Jim's back while McCoy holds him down and fucks him hard enough that Christine feels it. Jim comes in Christine's mouth the second time while he sucks off McCoy, McCoy's long, blunt fingers clutching handfuls of Jim's hair as he shows Jim exactly what he likes. The third time has McCoy coming with Christine on his cock and Jim in his ass, pulling her down so he can tongue her nipples and make her scream his name.
The fourth time, Christine just watches half-asleep as McCoy fucks Jim with slow, lazy strokes, both of them too tired to be able to climax again, but needing it enough to try anyway. She falls asleep with her arms wrapped around Jim's waist and only barely hears Jim's murmured "Night, Chrissy" and McCoy's soft murmur that might be her name. She can feel their hands on hers, though, and that touch carries her all the way into sleep.
When she wakes up, it feels like nothing is changed, except that everything has. Jim is mashed against her, his face in her tits (of course, she thinks wryly) and his arm wrapped firmly around her waist while McCoy is pressed up against Jim's back, somehow managing to fit against Jim's curves like a puzzle piece.
She pokes gently at Jim's head, grinning when he smacks away her hand. "Wake up, sleepyhead."
"Five more minutes, Ma," he gurgles.
Christine tries really hard not to giggle. "Wake up, idiot," she says fondly. "It's morning."
His eyes open slowly, blinking himself awake. "Whatimezit?" he blurts out, his words rolling together until it sounds like a mashed-up new language.
"Time for our shift," and she sympathizes with his heartfelt groan. She doesn't want to get out of this bed ever either. "Sorry, toots, but there is no excuse for tardiness, not even really amazing sex."
Jim smirks up at her, looking absurdly adorable with his rumpled hair and sleepy eyes. "It was really good sex, wasn't it?"
"At ease, Captain," she laughs. "This bed isn't big enough for you, McCoy, me and your ego."
He clutches at his chest. "How you wound me."
"I will wound you both if you don't shut the hell up," McCoy growls sleepily from behind Jim.
"Awww, who's a grumpy bear?"
"Christine, I will put you over my goddamn knee and spank you if you don't stop right this instant."
Jim perks up. "Oh, God, you promise?"
Christine laughs so hard, she thinks she's going to choke. "Give it up, McCoy," she hoots, too amused by the disgruntled look on McCoy's face to really take him seriously. "You're outnumbered on this one."
Growling unintelligibly, McCoy leans over to kiss Jim, and then Christine, playfully tweaking her nipple in retaliation, before he slowly lumbers out of bed with choice comments on arrogant starship captains and goddamn smart-mouthed nurses, and why did he have to end up with both at the same time? Christine's still laughing when Jim flicks his tongue over her nipples, making her laugh catch in her throat, and she arches up against him with a soft moan.
"We really do have to get ready for our shift," she protests faintly, although she really doesn't care when Jim's got his teeth on her neck and his hands on her hips and his cock in her.
"We will," Jim promises, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm that already has her digging her nails into his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. "We'll just be a few minutes late."
Any minute now, she thinks absently, McCoy's going to come back and it's going to start all over again and she's going to lose her mind and be useless for the rest of the day, and she doesn't care because she got what she wanted, and she's not letting go of it this time.
This may not be a love story, but it's a story about love, and she's finally ready for it.
***
They turn out to be half an hour late to their shift. Close enough.
So the family is kidnapping me for the weekend for Highland Games fun and family shenanigans, which means I won't be around until Monday. Since there will mostly likely be no internet, I won't be able to respond to anything until then. *hand flailing*
Anyway, have a fun weekend, people. I'll talk to you all soonest! ♥