seren_ccd | Star Trek 2009 Fic: The Feeling of Being in Motion Again, McCoy/Chapel

Title: The Feeling of Being in Motion Again
Series: Going to Georgia
Pairing(s): McCoy/Chapel UST
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. Someone else far cleverer than me does. The titles and excerpts are from Going to Georgia by the Mountain Goats.

A/N: Well, it’s become a chaptered story. I can’t thank everyone who has reviewed enough. You all define the word awesome!

This picks up about a year after the first meeting. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter Two

The last note of the madrigal held in the air until the conductor pinched his fingers in a flourish to signal the end. The Chorale let out a collective sigh of relief and contentment. A few people murmured to their neighbors and the conductor tapped his wand on the podium.

"Very good,” he said, his antennae twitched in pleased pride. "We'll pick up on the cantata next week. Dismissed."

Christine made her way over to her 'cubby' to retrieve her belongings. She breathed deeply in and out as her head felt slightly light-headed due to the exertion they had just put into the old Terran madrigal. Not for the first time, she was very happy she'd decided to use the Chorale as her elective. Christine had wanted to have at least one thing during the week that wasn't medically related and the Chorale had proven to be practically therapeutic. It was one of the only places, outside of her kitchen, that demanded her full attention and allowed her mind to focus on the moment at hand. She smiled briefly at the girl at the cubby next to hers and reached for her bag and looped the strap over her head. She idly checked her watch. It was only 1730 hours, so she had plenty of time to make her way over to the infirmary for her five hour evening shift.

"It's Chapel? Right?" a voice asked nervously behind her.

Christine turned around and met the even gaze of the lovely young woman from the soprano section of the Chorale.

"Oh, yes! Christine Chapel,” Christine answered with a smile. "You're Uhura?"

She nodded briskly. "Yes, Nyota Uhura."

"It's nice to meet you," Christine said. She felt a little puzzled at the Cadet coming over to her. She knew who she was; an up and coming on most of the academic lists, with the Communications track, if she remembered correctly. She was also the Chorale's Vice President. This was the only 'class' they shared.

"Oh, yes, likewise,” Uhura said. Her hand twisted the strap of her own bag and Christine was struck by the impression that Cadet Uhura was nervous. It didn't sit well on the young woman, so Christine decided to put her at ease.

"I thought your solo last week was beautiful," Christine said in a friendly tone. "You have wonderful range."

"Oh, thank you," Uhura replied with a small smile. "It was a lovely piece to learn. I'm glad the director decided on it."

Christine smiled back. "So am I, if only because we got to listen to it."

Uhura looked down at her shoes, but Christine thought it was more a response of nerves and not necessarily humility.

"But, you didn't come over here to talk about music selections, did you?" Christine questioned gently.

"Umm, no, actually," Uhura said honestly. "I wanted to ask you something. But, I don't really know how to go about it."

She actually winced as she said this and Christine schooled her expression to be open and welcoming.

"Is it... Do you need to make an appointment?" she asked softly. She knew that most people knew she was a nurse and had helped a few people out who had felt self-conscious for one reason or another about getting medical care.

"An appoint-- No! Oh no! That's not," Uhura said as she shook her head, "that's not it at all. I'm really not doing this right."

She looked so fed up with herself and her eyes kept darting around, so Christine decided a change of venue was probably best.

"Would you like to go outside?" Christine asked. "I'm headed towards the infirmary for a shift. But I have a few minutes, if you'd like to walk a bit?"

"Yes," Uhura said with a sigh of relief. "Outside is good."

"Okay," Christine said with a smile. They headed towards the door, they said good-bye to a few people as they left, but soon emerged into the hazy, late afternoon sun. Both women automatically turned their faces towards the sky and breathed in the air. They caught each other's eye and smiled sheepishly.

"I love the Chorale," Uhura said with a wry grin. "I really do. And I understand the need for sound proof walls, but does the classroom have to be completely without windows?"

"Tell me about it," Christine said in commiseration. "I always feel the need to inject myself with Vitamin D before I even enter the room."

Uhura grinned fully. They strolled along the sidewalk in companionable silence for a minute.

"Okay," Uhura finally said. "I'm just going to ask. And tell me if this is totally inappropriate or out of bounds."

Christine glanced over at the Cadet with wide eyes. She'd been merely curious before. Now, she was highly intrigued.

Uhura took in a deep breath and let it out. "I can't cook."

"I'm sorry?" Christine was highly confused. "You can't cook?"

"No, not at all," Uhura said taking Christine's statement of surprise for a question. "I mean, I'm truly hopeless in the kitchen. My mom more or less gave up trying to teach me after a while."

"O-kay," Christine said slowly. "Why-"

"Why am I acting like a crazy person and telling you this?" the other woman said with a wry quirk to her lips.

"We can start there," Christine said with a quirk of her own lips.

Uhura sighed. "I want to do something for someone. A friend. And, I've managed to find something that I think he'd really appreciate, but I always end up with a burnt pan and a mess in the common area."

She stopped walking and looked at Christine pleadingly. "I remembered you made that amazing pastry for the last Chorale social and I was wondering if you could give me some tips."

"Well," Christine started to say.

"If you can't, it's no problem, really," Uhura said quickly. "I know you're busy and this is a really silly thing to ask-"

"Cadet," Christine said cutting her off with a laugh. "I'd be happy to help. In fact, I'd be more than happy to offer up my kitchen for the venture. It's not terribly big, but I imagine it's a little better than the ones in the student housing."

"Oh. Oh! Wow, really?" Uhura smiled in relief. "You would? Oh, I'd really appreciate it. I know it's stupid and--"

"Stop!" Christine grinned. "Wanting to cook something for someone is never stupid. Or silly. I get the impression that this is a, um, special friend?"

"No. I mean, yes," Uhura said suddenly flustered. "I mean... It's kind of complicated."

"When is it not?" Christine remarked.

"I just... He's really helped me and he didn't have to. He says it was just as beneficial to him and gratitude is clearly not warranted. He's only doing his duty and fulfilling the parameters of his mandate, therefore any compensation outside of a good job being done is irrelevant," she recited with a frown. Then a look of determination came over her face. "Well, he's just going to have to accept it."

"Damn straight," Christine added. The two women looked at each other and grinned. "When would you like to come over? Tomorrow's Saturday and I'm free most of the day."

"So am I, believe it or not," Uhura said as she brought her PADD out to check her schedule. "How about I buy all the ingredients in the morning and bring them over? Is 1000 hours too early?"

"Not at all," Christine consulted her own PADD. "Why don't you mail me the recipe so I can look it over and let you know if I already have some of them in my cupboard?"

"Oh, no." Uhura shook her head emphatically, her long hair swished back and forth. "I mean, I'll certainly send you the recipe, but I'll bring everything. I don't want to put you out anymore than I already have."

"Would you stop it?" Christine scolded gently. "You're not putting me out. I love trying out new recipes. And, more importantly, I'm a sucker for complicated relationships and drama."

"Well, in that case," Uhura said with a grin, "I'll bring the hard to find ingredients and the drama, you provide the kitchen."

"Deal!" Christine said. She checked her watch. "Oh, I've got to get to the infirmary or the doctor will have a hissy fit."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you late," Uhura apologized.

"Oh, I won't be late," Christine reassured her. "I just won't be early and he'll consider that enough reason to have a conniption."

"Sounds charming."

"You have no idea," the blonde remarked. "Send me the recipe and I'll send you directions to my apartment."

"Okay," Uhura said. She met Christine's eyes and said sincerely, "Thank you, Lietenant Chapel."

"You're very welcome and it's Christine," she replied.

"Nyota," the cadet said with a smile. "See you tomorrow!"

"I'm looking forward to it!"

"Don't be too sure! You haven't seen me around appliances yet!"

Nyota grinned at Christine and turned to head down the sidewalk headed towards the Communications building. Christine made her way to the infirmary with a slight spring in her step at the thought of an interesting weekend. Her thoughts slowly turned towards her shift and the spring in her step increased slightly.

She told herself that her eagerness to get to the infirmary was due to the challenges Leonard McCoy often presented during their shifts together. He was better than any revision material and working with him over the last year had taught her more about what truly being a doctor entailed than her years at the hospital. He was brilliant and just watching his eyes assess a situation and then react like lightening was enough to give her chills. Intellectual chills, of course.

So, you’re walking quickly because you like being challenged by a brilliant doctor, her voice in her head said sarcastically. It has nothing at all to do with the man himself.

Christine told herself to shut up.

She rounded the corner and the infirmary came into view. Absently, she wondered if McCoy had bothered to check the staff schedule and noticed that she was on tonight instead of Stephens, the current bane of McCoy's existence. She was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

He probably hasn't, she thought, and he's probably giving some poor inanimate object in the infirmary the death glare. Oh, I really hope the last nurse remembered to put their slides away and didn't leave them sitting out. And to recharge the tricorders. And to straighten up the exam rooms. And, oh hell.

She picked up the pace.

*****

McCoy stood in the supply room of the infirmary and glared at the inventory list. There wasn't anything actually wrong with it. It just happened to be at his eye level and he just happened to be in a glaring type of mood.

He was not looking forward to this shift. One, he had too many assignments to do and two, it was just his brand of particular luck that Nurse Stephens was scheduled to work this shift too.

God, he hated working with that man. He was absurdly fastidious. He had an aversion to any kind of medicine that meant you had to actually get out of the lab and touch the patient. And due to a rather scathing exchange that occurred between them a week ago, he now flinched whenever McCoy opened his mouth.

So, McCoy glared some more at the inventory list. He heard someone enter the infirmary through the staff entrance and the glare intensified. The same someone stowed their stuff in the lab. Then the footsteps headed his way. McCoy attempted to lessen his glare into just a minor scowl. He was fairly sure he didn't succeed.

"What on earth did the inventory list do to you?" a distinctly non-male voice asked. McCoy spun around to see the welcome vision of Christine Chapel with a far too amused look on her face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded in surprise.

"Oh, I'm fine, Doctor. Thank you for asking," she replied brightly, her eyes shone as she did some little maneuver that pulled her hair back. "How are you?"

"Chapel," he growled.

"Settle down," she said as she tucked a few strays behind her ears. "Stephens had an appointment and asked me to switch shifts with him."

"Thank God," McCoy blurted out. He walked past her back towards the lab. Christine followed him and watched as he dropped onto one of the stools and took up his PADD. "The morons on the last shift forgot to recharge the tricorders, by the way."

"Now see, it's those kind of statements that make it hard for me to defend you when I hear stories about the big, mean Doctor McCoy," she told him.

"So, don't," he said accessing his PADD. Then, he frowned and looked at her. She had her hands on her hips. Never a good sign. "Who did you defend me to?"

"Stephens."

"Oh, Christ," he said dropping his PADD on the counter with a clatter. "Let me guess, he went crying to you about the discussion we had about his duties as a nurse."

"Well, he wasn't crying," she answered. "But, yes. I had to do some fast talking to ease him down."

"I bet," McCoy snorted. "All I did was point out his deficiencies."

"You called him a whiny incompetent without the sense God gave a mule," she stated.

"I did no such thing," he said emphatically. "Because if I did, I would have said 'ass'."

Christine just closed her eyes and let her head drop to her chest in exasperation. McCoy allowed himself a small smirk while her eyes were shut.

Then he went on. "Come on, Chapel. You know as well as I do, that boy is far better suited to research than practical medicine."

She opened her eyes and pinned him with a hard stare. "Of course I do! I have absolutely no doubt that's where he's headed. But, that's why we're here. To learn what suits. We're still students at the end of the day. Just because you and I already know where we're going doesn't mean everyone else does."

McCoy didn't really have an answer to that. Partly, because he wasn't all that sure he knew where he was going.

So, he asked instead, "Do the nurses actually complain about me?"

"No, not exactly," she admitted. "It's not complaining, they just want to impress you."

McCoy just looked at her. "Impress me? I'm not their goddamn instructor."

"No, but you're the real deal," she explained. "You're in the top 99th percentile of the class, you graduated top of your class in med school, and you're an excellent doctor. They look up to you. So when someone they admire and respect, i.e. you, yells at them and announces their flaws to the world, it hits them pretty hard."

McCoy narrowed his eyes in thought. Chapel backed off and went over to the main terminal to access the duty roster. He studied her as she keyed in her security code and realized that once again, she was right.

"So, you're saying I need to make nice with Stephens?" he asked grumpily.

"It would be a start." She kept her eyes on the screen.

"I'm not sure I'm capable of such a daring feat of diplomacy," he admitted.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you, 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all'?" she sighed.

"She told me to 'never suffer fools gladly'," he retorted. She shot him a look over her shoulder that made him grin unashamedly at her. But he acquiesced. "I'll try my hardest not to yell at the guy, how's that?"

"It'll do," she said. "For now. Looks like I'm stuck with autoclaving and cleaning the lab."

"What do I get?" he asked coming to stand behind her and look over her shoulder.

"You get to inventory the medicine supplies and make suggestions about improving the efficiency of the infirmary," she said unaware that he was right there.

"Thrilling," he said in a deadpan and if he hadn't been standing so close he might not have noticed the slight shiver and the goosebumps that suddenly appeared on her neck. But, he did. His mama also used to say, 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. So he kept his voice low and asked, "Tell me, Chapel. Do you look up to me too?"

Christine turned around slowly and lifted her eyes to meet his. "Well," her voice turned low and sultry, "you are taller than I am."

With a wicked smirk, she patted him on the chest and moved around him. "Have fun with the meds!"

He chuckled because, really? What else could he do? He called after her, "Hey! They respect you too, you know."

She stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.

"Why do you think they feel they can talk to you?" he said with a shrug.

Chapel considered that, then sort of smiled to herself and with a nod to him, disappeared into the surgery.

*****

"Alright," McCoy called out after logging the last of the antihistamines. "Got another one for you."

It was the last two hours of their shift. They'd only had a few calls and two walk-ins: one female cadet with an allergic reaction to her roommate's new perfume and one male with a headache most likely due to eyestrain. They sent the girl home with a hypospray to the neck and a note to her roommate to lose the perfume. For the boy, they set up an appointment with the resident ophthalmologist and gave strict instructions to not hold his PADD so close to his face.

"Name the most common symptoms of space sickness and what body system it originates in," McCoy quizzed as he walked back to the lab and sat down at the main work station to update the records. "Bonus points if you tell me the treatment."

There was only the slightest of pauses, and then Chapel replied, "It originates in the vestibular system due to a change in gravitational forces. The otolithic signals react to linear accelerations to maintain equilibrioception, while the semicircular canals react to rotation."

She stopped her recitation and he heard her close the door and set the timer on the autoclave unit. She emerged from the prep room, headed in his direction and began again, "The most common symptoms are dizziness and blurred vision which can lead to mild nausea. More extreme cases include severe nausea with the potential for hallucinations. If the body does not adjust on its own after a few days, the only treatment currently is sixty ccs of Inaprovaline."

Christine dropped onto the stool next to him and looked at him expectantly.

"Very good," he said. She was too confident in her own knowledge to actually smile at his compliment, but he noticed the gleam in her eyes that signaled satisfaction. "How's your XenBio-Chem coming along?"

"Oh, delightfully. Would you like me to recite all the monomers and polymers found in Klingons?" she asked finally allowing a grin to surface.

"I could think of nothing I'd like more," he grinned back.

With a swivel of her stool, she turned and propped an elbow on the counter. She then launched into a recitation of the bio-chemistry of the other race while she absently arranged the slides some idiot had left out during the last shift. As usual, he was impressed. She even got the pronunciations right.

She finished with a sigh and said, "No more. I'm starving."

"Here, here," he said. He tapped a final entry into the main terminal. "There. Every last drug known to man recorded and verified."

"Nice work, Doctor," she said as she reached for her bag and rummaged around in it.

"Thank you, Nurse," he said as he grabbed his own bag to find his PADD and the protein bar he'd thrown in earlier. He unceremoniously tore the wrapping off of it and took a huge bite. He munched as he reviewed his messages. His eyes kept straying to Chapel though.

She pulled out a small plastic box that was becoming a familiar accessory to her shifts. She opened it, took out the fork she also kept in her bag and began to eat her dinner which was some kind of beans and rice that smelled extremely good. She pulled out her own PADD and tapped lightly at its surface.

McCoy forced himself to tear his eyes away and read the comments one of his instructors left regarding his last paper. He grumbled to himself at the pedantic phrasing the man used.

"Problem?" Chapel asked. He looked up to see her still daintily eating.

"Just more constructive criticism from Peterson," he said.

"Ah, yes. Say no more," she said.

"Man's so dense he has to take his shoes off to count above ten."

"Pretty sure you shouldn't be saying that about our instructor."

"Pretty sure he shouldn't be that stupid."

She chuckled and McCoy felt that ridiculous surge his stomach made whenever he made her laugh. He bit ferociously at the protein bar and tried to focus on his reply to the instructor in which he refuted each and every last one of the man's claims.

They continued to eat in a silence that was punctuated by an exclamation from time to time by McCoy at another error.

"Oh, my goodness," Chapel said after a little while in a tone that seemed both impressed and amused.

"Something wrong?" he asked looking over at her. Her fork was actually paused halfway between the box and her mouth.

"No, no. Not wrong, just," she scrolled down whatever-it-was, "just very interesting."

Chapel shook her head and the fork finally made its way to her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully. McCoy let out an irritated breath.

"You are aware that you can't just leave it like that," he said.

"It's nothing," she said after she swallowed. "I'm helping out a friend with a project and she just sent me the, ah, instructions. And it's occurring to me that she definitely likes a challenge, in more ways than one." She furrowed her brow. "That and I've never cooked with plomeek before."

"O-kay." McCoy felt lost. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know," she said in a way that she knew infuriated him. He rolled his eyes.

The silence continued again. McCoy finished the piece of rubber that was laughingly called food and kept at his reply.

"Cornbread?" she offered. She held up a small container that held two perfectly yellow squares.

"Anyone ever tell you you're too good to be true?" he commented as he took a square. To his amazement, Chapel actually blushed. That goddamn thing in his stomach surged again.

"No," she said. She ducked her head and typed something out on her PADD.

McCoy grinned and took a bite. He nearly groaned out loud in pleasure at the taste of proper homemade cornbread. Sweet Lord, if he ever found out that she could make bread pudding...

They finished their dinners and she went back to the wrestle with the cleaning units and he started to review for his finals.

Finally, 2300 hours rolled around. McCoy stood impatiently by the door as Chapel conveyed the various calls and possible walk-ins to the late night crew.

The caress of the night breeze on McCoy’s face was extremely welcome as they exited the building. From the slight sigh that escaped from Christine, he guessed she felt the same. He opened his mouth to ask her what her plans for the weekend were, but the sound of "Bones!" being called out made both of them stop and turn.

Jim Kirk headed their way, dressed in civvies and sporting his traditional grin.

"Evening, Bones!" he greeted. He turned to Chapel and looked her up and down with a grin. "Nurse Christine."

"Cadet," she said with a humoring look on her face.

"What will it take for you to come and have a drink with us?" The Jim Kirk charm was turned on to about level seven.

"Hmm, a full-frontal lobotomy?" she suggested.

"Ooh, don't know about the lobotomy, but I can certainly get behind the full-frontal," he leered cheerfully at her. "Or would that be 'in front' of?"

Chapel just looked at McCoy helplessly. "It's better if you just don't say anything to him, isn't it?"

"That's been my experience," he said blandly. "What are you doing here, Jim?"

"I thought I'd find you before you had a chance to go back to the dorms and force you to come out and have a drink or ten with me," Jim said. He looked at Chapel. "Care to join us? I'm celebrating."

"What are you celebrating?" she asked.

Jim shrugged. "It's Friday and I haven't pissed anyone off."

"Day's not over yet," McCoy grumbled under his breath as he looked at his watch. Jim just winked at him.

"So, what do you say, beautiful?" Jim asked Chapel.

"As much as I love watching you two drink, I've got plans for fairly early in the morning," she said. "So, thank you, but I'll be on my way."

"I'll walk you home," McCoy said.

She gave him a look. "You really don't have to."

"You say that every time."

"I mean it every time."

"And I ignore you every time."

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a, "Zip it." She glared, but miraculously didn't object anymore.

"You two crack me up," Jim said with a grin. "Can I come?"

The trio debated the relative merits of the Kobayashi Maru test most of the way to Chapel's apartment. Jim felt it was possible to beat. Chapel gently tried to dissuade him of that particular opinion. McCoy just called him an idiot.

They reached the steps of her apartment and Jim tried again, "Are you sure you don't want to come out with us? We'll wait here while you go put on something black and slinky. I promise to totally hit on you the entire evening."

"What makes you think I even own something black and slinky?" she asked with a humoring smile. McCoy just did his best to not picture her in something black and slinky.

"You're hot. Of course you do," Jim said matter-of-factly. "It's the law."

She just laughed and patted him on his head. "Oh, little boy."

"Bones, talk her into it," Jim urged.

"Who said I was even going?" McCoy asked him rhetorically. "Do you know how much work I've got to do?"

"No excuses. You're going," Jim said pointing a finger at him.

"This is definitely my cue. Good night, gentlemen," Christine said loudly to get their attention as she edged backward.

"Night, Chapel," McCoy said. “Good work this evening.”

“You too, McCoy,” she smiled.

"Sweet dreams!" Kirk called after her.

She gave them a little wave of her fingers as she walked up the steps to the door.

The door to her building slowly swooshed shut behind her. The two men stood in silence for a moment before Kirk turned to McCoy with a puzzled look.

"Were we just rebuffed?" he asked. McCoy snorted and walked in the direction of the student dorms.

"That's the wrong way," Jim said catching up to him.

McCoy ignored him and kept walking. They eventually came to the main street and had to wait for the walk signal. Maybe if he kept really quiet, Jim would figure out that all he wanted to do was go home, fall into the shower and then fall into bed.

"I like Christine."

McCoy fought the urge to groan.

"She's nice. She's smart. Pretty. Great hands," Jim listed. "You should ask her out."

This was a familiar refrain of Jim's, so McCoy just kept his mouth shut. Seriously, the only way to get the kid to shut up was to ignore him because eventually something shiny would come along and his little inner crow would fly after the new distraction.

The signal changed and McCoy headed across the street. Jim followed.

"She likes you, you know," he nattered on. "I can tell. I don't know what your problem is. I think you two would have a lot of fun debating which disease will kill you faster and whoa... I just had a mental picture of what your pillow talk might be like. Scary. Scary, but kind of hot."

"For God's sake, Jim!" McCoy said a bit too loudly. Jim just smirked at him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"She makes her own food," McCoy muttered eventually.

"I'm sorry?" Jim asked. "She-- what?"

"Makes her own lunch. And dinner," the doctor repeated. "She brings it to shifts in this little plastic thing that keeps it warm or cold. She hardly ever uses the replicator."

"O-kay," Jim said furrowing his brow.

"It's just..." McCoy was unsure how to make his friend understand why this was a big deal. "It's this thing she does. It's weird."

"The fact that she cooks is weird?" Jim repeated. McCoy didn't answer. "Wow. Man, I knew you had issues, I just didn't realize how deep-seated they were."

"Hey!" McCoy said glaring at the younger man. "Do not analyze me!"

"I passed my mid-term, you know," Jim defended.

"Yeah, well, one semester of voodoo does not make you a witch doctor," McCoy groused.

"Fine. I just think you'd enjoy each other's company," Jim said. "That's all."

"We do. As colleagues. We work well together," McCoy said. "Do you know how rare it is to find someone in the medical profession that you can work with where you're not questioning every move they make? She’s an inch away from finally becoming a doctor. I'm not going to mess with that. No matter how 'hot' you think it may be."

"Who're you trying to convince here?" Jim held his hands up in surrender at the glare McCoy shot him. "Okay, okay! Shutting up now."

They arrived at their dorm and McCoy headed up the steps. He glanced up at the flickering porch light and shook his head at the faulty bulb that still hadn’t been replaced.

“You’re seriously not coming out with me?” Jim sounded surprised. “Wow. Okay. I’ll be at that bar on Fifth Street if you feel like coming out later.”

“Sure,” he said as Jim headed off. “Maybe.”

He entered in the code to enter the dorm and made a move to enter when Jim’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Bones!” Jim called. “I get it, you know. But, just keep one thing in mind.”

McCoy waited.

“She’s pretty. She’s blonde. And she’s great,” Jim said.

“That’s three things, asshole,” McCoy interrupted.

“And, someone somewhere isn’t going to hesitate to take that girl out for a drink,” he finished with a serious look that was very out of place on his face. Then he shrugged and grinned. “Just saying.”

He sauntered away and left McCoy standing in the doorway. Shadows on the doctor’s face came and went as the light flickered above him.

Current Mood: peaceful
Current Location: The Office
Current Music: BBC Radio 1

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

ladytory.livejournal.com

I really am enjoying this series so far and I am looking forward to more. (no pressure!)

I like the UST and the slow build up. And I particularly loved McCoy's little food-gasm over the homemade cornbread.

And of course I squeed a bit over the mention of Spock/Uhura. :D

From:

A savoury muffin?

Star Trek 2009 Fic: The Feeling of Being in Motion Again, McCoy/Chapel - Chapter Two

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