(Untitled)

[leftwithmybones]

There are a lot of things that McCoy has nightmares about. He's fallen asleep and dreamt of horrible things happening to Jocelyn, to Joanna, to Jim (and good god, when did he earn a plethora of J's in his life that he cares deeply about?). He dreams about the Enterprise crushing him and falling into the vacuum of space

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[youwereameteor]

"Hey, Plum," says Jim, dropping onto the end of the couch and utterly unsurprised when the cat jumps up into his lap and curling into a ball. He scratches him between the ears and glances across at his best friend expectantly.

"Hey, Bones?"

[leftwithmybones]

Of course the damn cat loves Jim best. McCoy wouldn't feel put out, but considering his voice has gone and abandoned him today, he feels like he doesn't need the insult added to injury. McCoy lowers the book and gives Jim a faint smile in greeting, arching a brow to ask 'what's up' and hoping that Jim will take that as it is for speech.

[youwereameteor]

Jim strokes his hand along the cat's back, tugging on his tail lightly and letting him gnaw on his fingers on the other hand.

One eyebrow twitches.

"Cat got your tongue, Bones?"

[leftwithmybones]

If McCoy still had the power to speak, he might unleash a long and caustic endless array of irritation at that, but the thought of writing it all out by hand is less than pleasing. He grabs the pad of paper and scribbles (almost illegibly): Woke up, voice stolen, bad puns are not cute and have never been.

He waits a second, then adds:

Stop giving the cat affection, it'll start expecting it.

[fear_no_words]

It wasn't enough to hide from Uhura. But then she didn't look for people by sight alone. She could identify the doctor by his hands, his carriage, his general demeanor. Who else would grumpily sit around like that?

"Shakespeare, doctor?" she asked unnecessarily, to start conversation, as she sat down beside him on the couch. Crossing one leg over the other, she rested her elbow against a knee and propped her head up in her hand. "Are you in a romantic mood today?" Hardly.

[leftwithmybones]

It's times like this that he wishes that he'd spent time learning sign language instead of learning about the effects of long-term situations in space. He lowers the book and gives Uhura a long look, wondering just how long he can muster up a front. It's inevitably going to crumble, so he clasps the paper beside him and scribbles a doctor's version of neat-writing.

Can't talk.

[fear_no_words]

Uhura returned the look patiently. Though not the happiest man on the ship at any given time, McCoy had always had a kind bedside manner with her. She had to wonder just what had gotten his goat that morning, or if these were just the moody tempers of youth, until he explained in the note.

"Can't talk," she read aloud. "How's that? Are you sick?"

[leftwithmybones]

He sighs heavily, but it's all breath and no groan and he grabs the paper and starts scribbling some more. No voice at all. No sound. This is NOT a disease. And he's less than pleased about it, shoving that note over with a kind of insistence that he doesn't usually come by unless things matter.

[hyperspanner]

When Scotty saw McCoy among those sitting in the rec room, he seriously considered turning back round and going to do something else, but stopped himself just in time. He considered McCoy a friend, he had said himself that what had happened after Valentine's Day shouldn't change them, and it was bloody stupid of him to be avoiding him. No time like the present to go and make amends.

He took a deep breath, and strolled across the room in a manner so affectedly casual it was obvious he was trying to hide his nervousness, and flopped down into a chair near McCoy.

"Hey, how's it going?" he said, mustering up an 'everything's going to be fine' kind of smile.

[leftwithmybones]

Of course. McCoy is sure that there is some god, some deity, some person out there who is having all too much fun fucking him over. McCoy grimaces slightly, lowering the book and giving Scotty a painfully withering look, not entirely pleased about having to go through with this when he can't talk. Lousy is what he mouths.

[hyperspanner]

Scotty frowned. He could read lips well enough to get what McCoy had 'said' (it was a skill you quickly picked up in noisy engine rooms), but didn't quite get why McCoy hadn't, well, actually said it. He knew they weren't talking to each other but this seemed to be taking it overly literally.

"What?" he said. This wasn't going to go very well if McCoy wasn't going to act like a grown-up.

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy yanks the pad of paper from his side, sending Plum stumbling as he does, but a cat always lands on its feet and Plum seems damn happy to curl up in a hot mass of cat in his lap. I can't talk, he writes on the pad and flashes it to Scotty, knowing that his penmanship isn't the best, but it's far from the worst.

[practicallyaguy]

It was as much as Zoe could do to not attempt to ask the guy if he was the tamer or the shrew in the metaphor. This guy had side kick written all over him, but it could be the fact taht he was reading Shakespeare in the middle of the afternoon.

Flopping noisily onto the sofa, she put her feet onto the table and ildly flipped through a copy of National Geographic. What was the point when she could crack wise the entire time?

Taking aim, she tossed the magazine across the room not caring if she hit an innocent bystander.

[leftwithmybones]

It hits him and he can't say a goddamn thing. McCoy sets the book down and glowers at her, incredibly pissed that he's not going to get a minute-long rant at the kid about how inappropriate it is to fling magazines around. He's got the next best thing, though, and grabs the paper to scribble, What the hell is your problem? in big letters before holding it up to her.

[practicallyaguy]

Reading the sign, she frowned for a split second before arching an eyebrow at the man. Apparently the silence fairy was feeling frisky.

Silently chuckling, which was probably just as creepy as actually laughing, she pointed to her throat. If that didn't give away the issue than she didn't know what did.

[leftwithmybones]

It's almost hilarious, if you're into the kinds of comedies that are pathetic and sad for all the parties involved. He shakes his head and offers a wry smile, setting his book aside and holding up the paper and pens for her, inviting her to take some if she really wants them.