Med to Bridge

AN: Just a fun little romp to get the Trekkie bug out of my system. Or at least, where it won’t be gnawing at my brainstem quite so ferociously.

Characters: Every one of these dynamic personas belongs to Roddenberry, Paramount, and other people. I’m just playing with them for a few.

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The scene on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise could best be described as utter chaos. All Doctor Leonard McCoy could do when he stepped off the lift was stop dead in his tracks and stare in shock and amazement as he beheld the damage.

“Oh, dear God!”

On the floor in front of the navigation console, conveniently minus three pairs of standard Starfleet-issue black trousers, Montgomery Scott and Hikaru Sulu had ensign Pavel Chekov sandwiched between them. All three were on their bare knees, regardless of the threat of carpet burn. The little Russian, moreover, couldn’t seem to make up his mind whether he was consenting to the deed or not as the three rocked together.

“Nyet, nyet,” he panted fetchingly, eyes at half mast in what was either extreme bliss or considerable conflict. One hand curled up behind him to shakily cup the back of Scotty’s head while the other twined in Sulu’s thick black hair. His tune seemed to change quickly, though, as both of his friends began to playfully nip and suck at either side of his pale neck in concert while their lower bodies ground together in a strong, steady rhythm. “Oooh… Da, da!”

Bones nearly swallowed his tongue. “Damn it, you two, that’s not legal yet!” His shriek was slightly muffled. Without even looking at the remainder of the officers on deck, he knew he would have to call in backup. This was madness. Pure madness!

McCoy really would have thought that Scotty, at least, would have had the good sense to stay away from the three-valve leak near the bridge that had almost instantly saturated the entire area with unknown quantities of unstable breathable compounds—but, no. The fool man had to come dashing up from engineering in the flesh when the bridge crew abruptly failed to respond to other methods of communication, and hadn’t returned from the contaminated area.

Doctor McCoy had logically been the next person to send in, his mouth and nose cautiously covered with a small, transparent mask to circulate fresh air and keep the pollutants out. Somehow he felt certain that, despite that important precaution, he was woefully unprepared to face this particular medical challenge.

“Nurse Chapel!” he barked into his communicator. “I need you here, now, with hypos of the strongest sedative we’ve got—enough to take down the entire bridge crew! And for God’s sake, be sure to wear a detox mask!”

Intervention. Immediate intervention was the key.

“Obviously there’s been some kind of adverse chemical reaction among the spilled gases that triggers an abrupt and insurmountable increase in sex drive, and…” Suddenly catching sight of another flash of activity, Bones nearly dropped his link to the sane world. “Sweet Christ preserve us.”

First Officer Spock and Lieutenant Uhura were making use of the wide science station console against the far wall. Bones was pretty sure said console would have to be disinfected later.

Uhura, uniform skirt hiked to her waist and regulation ponytail undone, had three of Spock’s fingers deep in her mouth and was enthusiastically sucking. Her modest white panties hung forgotten and utterly useless from the toe of one knee high boot. The apparently emotionless hobgoblin himself was drooling slightly on her collarbone, a miniscule smile gracing his otherwise blissfully blank (but nevertheless blushing green) face. Though McCoy was mercifully shielded from a better view by Spock’s back, the movement of his hips and Uhura’s happy sounds around those long fingers left little to be imagined about what was going on between her skirt and the front of his slacks.

Who else was on duty? Bones thought frantically, valiantly trying not to do something stupid like lose his lunch or pass out on the floor. He wrenched his gaze from the science console to sweep the rest of the bridge. Maybe the other poor bastards went on a potty break, or somethi—

“Oh, Bo-oones.”

Oh, shit.

Sprawled indecently in the central command chair, legs thrown wide and smoldering stare riveted on McCoy like an alpha dog targets a cut of prime rib, was James T. Kirk. McCoy did his best not to gulp. It was just Jim, strange chemical reaction or not. Of course he could handle Jim.

Damn it, Jim was hot.

“Hey, kid. Don’t worry, alright? Christine will be here soon and we’ll get straight to work on some kind of antidote if the stuff doesn’t wear off by itself.”

Kirk blinked, surging up from the chair. “What are you babbling about now, Bones? There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice me for two and a half whole minutes!” He pouted suddenly, advancing closer to the wary doctor. “How come you didn’t notice me?”

“Well, Captain, I was busy making sure the rest of the crew didn’t have brains melting out their ears.” Prudently, McCoy backed out of reach. Kirk wasn’t exactly deterred.

“Nope, no brains,” he confirmed brightly, taking a quick look over his shoulder at his occupied crew. “Everybody looks good. So what do you say, Bonesy? You and me, in the captain’s chair, pronto!”

“Like hell, Jim.” He had half been expecting this. As Kirk pounced forward with arms wide and a huge grin plastered on his face Bones neatly sidestepped to avoid the not so subtle advance.

“Aw, come on! I was waiting for you!”

“Why the hell would you wait on me to show up when you’ve got an entire bridge full of compromised people already here to play with?”

“Because I want you, Bonesy.” Looking highly expectant, Kirk was closing in once more. “That’s not so weird.”

“Actually, yeah. Yeah, it is weird. Weird as fuck.”

In his determination to avoid physical contact with his heavily drugged and incredibly attractive captain McCoy had been steadily backing away, and found himself circling the bridge. Uhura and Spock were becoming marginally more frantic, he noticed in a detached way. The three in front of the navigation console had moved from mostly vertical to wholly horizontal and were making an astounding array of noises in three different languages. Distracted, Bones didn’t notice he was being purposefully herded up against the captain’s chair until he suddenly took one too many steps backward and abruptly found himself sitting in it. Kirk was in his lap in an instant, arms anchored firmly around his neck.

“There we go! I knew you could do it.”

“I’ll have to ask you to get the hell off me, Jim.”

Somehow Kirk managed to look hurt. “You don’t want me in your lap?”

“Not particularly, no.” If he could keep Jim relatively calm and distracted until help arrived, this would be much easier. Bones just hoped he could pull it off without doing anything overly incriminating. Unfortunately, being the distraction meant he had to let Jim sit in his lap, which didn’t make staying professional any easier.

“But… I’m the captain, and this is my chair. I want to sit in my chair. You’re in my chair. So you have to let me sit with you.” Brightened up considerably by this dubious logic Jim all but nestled in, resting his head comfortably on the doctor’s shoulder with a contented sigh. “McCoy, m’boy, you bring me joy.”

“Really.” The kid was slap-happy and horny at the same time. He didn’t rhyme even when he was so plastered he could hardly see. This couldn’t turn out well. “That’s funny, because all you ever bring me is a huge pain in the ass.”

“Is that permission? I think that’s permission for your captain to come aboard!” Kirk leered, leaning in impossibly closer and making the time-honored kissy face. A callused palm met his questing lips. “Bones, come on! Stop denying our love and gimme a kiss.”

“Whoa, kid!” McCoy’s hands shot up to wrap around the young captain’s wrists as Kirk tried a sneak attack on the protective mask he wore. “That stays where it is. This situation is bat-shit crazy enough without me losing it, too.” And where the hell was Nurse Chapel in all this?! He knew for a fact they had enough hypospray sedative aboard to knock out everyone on the Enterprise, kids and pets and houseplants and dust mites included. You could never be too careful, especially in space.

“You really don’t love me,” Kirk pouted. He somehow managed to look adorable despite the circus tent he was pitching, pressed right up against McCoy’s stomach. Hell, who was he kidding? Jim could look adorable three seconds after puking his guts up on someone’s shoes. McCoy knew this personally. Unfair, yes, but there it was.

He grumbled moodily, avoiding Kirk’s big blue puppy eyes. “I didn’t say that, and you know it.” Here they went again, the same argument that had been going on since their not so long-gone days rooming together at Starfleet Academy. But be damned if he would contribute another word to it in the middle of the bridge, surrounded by fucking officers. Literally, fucking officers. “Come on, Jim, get off me, now. You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“Do so.” Still looking petulant, Kirk attached himself to the side of Bones’ neck.

The doctor’s eyes widened considerably as his neck was hickeyed all to hell and Jim squirmed pointedly astride his lap. Hellooo, Captain! Surreptitiously he lifted one hand to make absolutely sure his mask wasn’t askew. The fumes could certainly be getting to him if the kid had managed to paw it crooked trying to get his kiss.

“If Spock was in his right mind I would’a made him do that Vulcan shoulder pinch thing on you five minutes ago,” he groused weakly.

Bones looked at the ceiling and tried to think of bad things until the sedatives finally arrived. He thought of flying. He thought of the ex wife. Fluffy bunnies with Bubonic plague. “Cupcake” in a thong. Andorian shingles. Tribbles in his oatmeal. The world getting sucked into a black hole. Anything that was not James Kirk.

It was almost working until Kirk worked a hand inside his trousers.

“Dammit, Jim!” He couldn’t help the answering rock of his hips that made the smug captain purr in victory—right at the same instant that the lift door whooshed open to admit Chapel, a tray of hyposprays in tow and a determined look fixed under her clean air mask.

It was also around that time that the three on the floor began to yell in earnest. It sounded remarkably like the climax of an International Porn Stars’ Convention.

“M-mister Scott! Ooh! Oooh! Hikaruuu—!!”

“Ah, Pavel—Pasha! Scotty! Harder, Scotty!”

“Ah’m givin’ ye all I got, laddies!”

Nurse Chapel almost dropped her tray. Almost, but not quite. Catching sight of McCoy’s commanding hand gestures over the captain’s shoulder, she recovered herself remarkably. “Yes, Doctor! Right away!”

“Hmm?” Kirk looked momentarily confused and tried to glance backward. “What’re you waving at, Bones?”

“Nothing.” Very firmly McCoy took his friend by the chin and directed his attention back front and center. For good measure, he even let himself grab what the kid was packing and give it a squeeze, much to Kirk’s utter and immediate delight. “Jim, I want you to do something for me. Can you do that?”

“Ooh, Bonesy—anything!”

“Then say goodnight, Jim.” In one smooth motion McCoy raised the hypo that had been slapped into his hand, gave Jim’s crotch a final squeeze, and used the resulting eruption as cover to plunge the hypo into a conveniently bared neck. The shocked scream that followed was entirely satisfying on more than one level, and before the captain could so much as try to comprehend what had happened he was collapsing unconsciously against Bones’ chest. “Good boy.”

“Doctor McCoy, are you alright?” Chapel was clearly trying her best not to look in the direction of the science console.

“Never better. Listen, I need you to go and get us some more help. I’m not gonna try to take down pointy-eared Romeo over there by myself. He’s strong as an ox.”

As Chapel hurried from the bridge Bones got slowly to his feet, hefting his captain’s limp weight along with him. The front of Jim’s trousers was damp. He couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Detail this in your captain’s log and I’ll kick yer ass, kid.”

- / - / - / - / -

Later that week Kirk slunk into sickbay with a small bouquet of exotic flowers. “Got a minute, Bonesy?” he asked sheepishly.

“Only if you swear that you didn’t just rip those flowers off one of Sulu’s greenhouse plants.”

“Um.” The flowers couldn’t be hidden behind his back quickly enough. “For the record, I did not rip them. I plucked them. And Sulu knows I was messing around in the greenhouse. Kind of.”

McCoy sighed and motioned into his private office. “Get in here, but make it quick. I’m a busy man.”

“Right.” Kirk slipped inside and carefully placed the flowers in a convenient glass of water on the desk there.

“You know, I was drinking out of that. But go ahead. I assume there’s something you came here to say.”

“I just wanted to say,” Kirk said, shuffling his feet like a naughty child, “that I’m sorry I put the moves on you when you didn’t want me to. On the bridge the other day, I mean. I guess that put you in a pretty awkward situation. As your captain, I apologize for making you go through that.”

“Jim, you were higher than a space station in orbit. I don’t hold it against you.” Bones rolled his eyes. “Besides. It was nothing worse than what you’ve been putting me through almost since the day I met you, and worse when you’re drunk. At least this time vomit didn’t come along with the declarations of star-crossed love.”

The hopeful perk was instant. “Really? So does that mean I can keep trying to convince you that I really, really like you?”

“Hey, now, I didn’t actually say—”

“Thanks, Bones. You’re a good man. And a great pal. I’ll catch you later, Doctor.” With a hearty slap to the back of McCoy’s shoulder Kirk breezed out of the office, a smarmy grin already plastered in place. Any and all repentance had definitely up and gone the way of the dodo.

“Damn it, Leonard.” McCoy lectured himself firmly as he was left to his own devices once more. “How many years is it going to take you to learn that you can’t give Jim a goddam second, or he’ll take a light year? You’ve got to stop letting him get away with behavior like this!”

However, through his grousing, Bones did manage to covertly maneuver the glass of water and flowers into a better spot on his desk. One that would be directly in his line of sight when he did dictation. Sometimes, even doctors don’t follow their own advice.

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The end.


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