Fic: Space Monkeys
Jul. 22nd, 2009 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fringedwellerficTitle: Space Monkeys
Author:fringedwellerfic
Pairing: McCoy/Chapel
Rating: PG-13 - it's nothing explicit.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Summary: Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
Author's Note: Forseren_ccd, who posted this and challenged us to write something. Here you go!
“All hands, prepare for drop of out warp in ten, nine, ...”
As Ensign Chekov’s apologetic voice sounded out throughout the ship’s decks, crewmembers hurriedly stopped what they were doing and braced themselves . Christine Chapel, alone in turbolift six, swore as she was bounced around the tiny enclosure like a rubber ball. An annoyed, bruised, rubber ball. The ship’s warp drive and inertial dampening systems had been playing up all week and the crew were getting used to securing themselves to whatever sturdy fixture they could find. Rumour had it that the increasingly stressed Engineering department were reaching hysteria, blaming the seemingly impossible systems failures on space monkeys. Christine didn’t have a lot of sympathy for them. Medical had been inundated with cuts and sprains all week, and her job today was to head to one of the tiny auxiliary sickbays and check it for suitability as an emergency triage centre. This cut into her prized lab research time, so she wasn’t in the best of moods.
When she got there she was surprised to see Len McCoy already there, sitting on the floor in the middle of a pile of dermal regenerators, hypospray components and tricorder power cells. He was doing inventory, and looked slightly less stressed than the last time she had seen him.
“People too dumb to hang onto something solid annoy me,” he said in greeting.
“Understandable,” she nodded, and left him alone to get on with her own job. They had always worked well together, knowing on an almost instinctual level when to talk, when to stay silent, when a supportive arm around the shoulders was needed and when the other needed an emotional punchbag. Christine knew that the other medical staff liked to speculate about their relationship; she had caught herself wishing on more than one occasion that there was a relationship to speculate about. She didn’t know why he felt it was more appropriate for him to be sat on the floor in an auxiliary sickbay rather than in his comfortable office where he could snap at patients in person, but it was nice to have the company.
An hour later, Christine’s annoyance had grown into a full blown bad mood. As soon as she was back in the main sickbay she’d be accessing the duty logs to see exactly which of her staff was responsible for the utter mess here. “Space monkeys,” Christine growled under her breath as she pulled yet another storage container out of its rack to be faced with a jumble of medication. “The only explanation that fits.”
“You say somethin’?” called McCoy from the other end of the room.
“Space monkeys!” Christine said loudly. “I can’t think of any reason why this store cupboard would be in such a state unless some of Engineering’s space monkeys escaped! Look at this!”
She gestured disparagingly towards the container in her hand, starting to move towards him as he walked to meet her. “Anti-virals in with the anti-bacterials! Electrolyte replacement kits mixed with diuretics! Can you imagine what would happen if someone grabbed the wrong one? And God help anyone who’s trying to find the nausea medicine, because apparently antihistamines will do the job better!”
Naturally, as soon as they both were in the empty space in the middle of the room the Enterprise started to lurch uncontrollably again. The container in her hands went flying across the room, and she went after it. She was just bracing herself for a hard landing on the deck when Len’s strong hands reached out, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back against him. They staggered backwards and forwards in a strange parody of a dance until Christine slipped again, and his grip shifted onto her breasts. As they continued to lurch his grip stayed sure and firm, and Christine was mortified to feel her nipples harden, her breath come faster and her heart pound a strange rhythm in her chest.
Adrenaline, she told herself desperately, Fight or flight response. Perfectly normal.
The ship stopped rocking, but neither Chapel nor McCoy moved. Both were panting heavily, both held their bodies rigid with tension. Christine was the first to break the silence.
“I wouldn’t necessarily describe myself as solid, but thanks for holding onto me.”
McCoy let out an amused puff of air, hot against her ear.
“There are more accurate words to describe you,” he admitted.
Now would be a perfect time for either of them to move, but neither seemed inclined. McCoy’s grip seemed to tighten ever so slightly, and she relaxed backwards, deliberately pushing her backside into him. Praying that she was reading him right, she said
“How about...soft?”
“Mmm,” he hummed in a considering tone before saying “Full,” decidedly. His hands gently squeezed and rubbed at her breasts, causing her knees to weaken slightly. That was no good.
“Pert,” she teased, reaching around with her hands and slapping his tight backside firmly. He stiffened, everywhere, and began to pluck at her nipples through the material of her uniform.
“Erect?” he offered, taking her earlobe between his lips and nibbling on it.
“Are you talking about you or me?” panted Christine, angling her head so he had better access to her neck.
“Does it matter?” he asked, punctuating each word with a kiss along the length of her neck.
“God no,” she said fervently, turning in his arms to capture his burning mouth with hers.
The ship rocked again, this time tipping them conveniently towards the nearest biobed. Space monkeys, thought Christine happily. Got to love those space monkeys.
Author:
fringedwellerficPairing: McCoy/Chapel
Rating: PG-13 - it's nothing explicit.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.
Summary: Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
Author's Note: For
seren_ccd, who posted this and challenged us to write something. Here you go!“All hands, prepare for drop of out warp in ten, nine, ...”
As Ensign Chekov’s apologetic voice sounded out throughout the ship’s decks, crewmembers hurriedly stopped what they were doing and braced themselves . Christine Chapel, alone in turbolift six, swore as she was bounced around the tiny enclosure like a rubber ball. An annoyed, bruised, rubber ball. The ship’s warp drive and inertial dampening systems had been playing up all week and the crew were getting used to securing themselves to whatever sturdy fixture they could find. Rumour had it that the increasingly stressed Engineering department were reaching hysteria, blaming the seemingly impossible systems failures on space monkeys. Christine didn’t have a lot of sympathy for them. Medical had been inundated with cuts and sprains all week, and her job today was to head to one of the tiny auxiliary sickbays and check it for suitability as an emergency triage centre. This cut into her prized lab research time, so she wasn’t in the best of moods.
When she got there she was surprised to see Len McCoy already there, sitting on the floor in the middle of a pile of dermal regenerators, hypospray components and tricorder power cells. He was doing inventory, and looked slightly less stressed than the last time she had seen him.
“People too dumb to hang onto something solid annoy me,” he said in greeting.
“Understandable,” she nodded, and left him alone to get on with her own job. They had always worked well together, knowing on an almost instinctual level when to talk, when to stay silent, when a supportive arm around the shoulders was needed and when the other needed an emotional punchbag. Christine knew that the other medical staff liked to speculate about their relationship; she had caught herself wishing on more than one occasion that there was a relationship to speculate about. She didn’t know why he felt it was more appropriate for him to be sat on the floor in an auxiliary sickbay rather than in his comfortable office where he could snap at patients in person, but it was nice to have the company.
An hour later, Christine’s annoyance had grown into a full blown bad mood. As soon as she was back in the main sickbay she’d be accessing the duty logs to see exactly which of her staff was responsible for the utter mess here. “Space monkeys,” Christine growled under her breath as she pulled yet another storage container out of its rack to be faced with a jumble of medication. “The only explanation that fits.”
“You say somethin’?” called McCoy from the other end of the room.
“Space monkeys!” Christine said loudly. “I can’t think of any reason why this store cupboard would be in such a state unless some of Engineering’s space monkeys escaped! Look at this!”
She gestured disparagingly towards the container in her hand, starting to move towards him as he walked to meet her. “Anti-virals in with the anti-bacterials! Electrolyte replacement kits mixed with diuretics! Can you imagine what would happen if someone grabbed the wrong one? And God help anyone who’s trying to find the nausea medicine, because apparently antihistamines will do the job better!”
Naturally, as soon as they both were in the empty space in the middle of the room the Enterprise started to lurch uncontrollably again. The container in her hands went flying across the room, and she went after it. She was just bracing herself for a hard landing on the deck when Len’s strong hands reached out, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back against him. They staggered backwards and forwards in a strange parody of a dance until Christine slipped again, and his grip shifted onto her breasts. As they continued to lurch his grip stayed sure and firm, and Christine was mortified to feel her nipples harden, her breath come faster and her heart pound a strange rhythm in her chest.
Adrenaline, she told herself desperately, Fight or flight response. Perfectly normal.
The ship stopped rocking, but neither Chapel nor McCoy moved. Both were panting heavily, both held their bodies rigid with tension. Christine was the first to break the silence.
“I wouldn’t necessarily describe myself as solid, but thanks for holding onto me.”
McCoy let out an amused puff of air, hot against her ear.
“There are more accurate words to describe you,” he admitted.
Now would be a perfect time for either of them to move, but neither seemed inclined. McCoy’s grip seemed to tighten ever so slightly, and she relaxed backwards, deliberately pushing her backside into him. Praying that she was reading him right, she said
“How about...soft?”
“Mmm,” he hummed in a considering tone before saying “Full,” decidedly. His hands gently squeezed and rubbed at her breasts, causing her knees to weaken slightly. That was no good.
“Pert,” she teased, reaching around with her hands and slapping his tight backside firmly. He stiffened, everywhere, and began to pluck at her nipples through the material of her uniform.
“Erect?” he offered, taking her earlobe between his lips and nibbling on it.
“Are you talking about you or me?” panted Christine, angling her head so he had better access to her neck.
“Does it matter?” he asked, punctuating each word with a kiss along the length of her neck.
“God no,” she said fervently, turning in his arms to capture his burning mouth with hers.
The ship rocked again, this time tipping them conveniently towards the nearest biobed. Space monkeys, thought Christine happily. Got to love those space monkeys.