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Reflections and Observations
Disclaimer: I don't own `em; I just play with them.
Summary:
My "hot sex muse" is out shopping with my "romance muse."
I got left with my "contemplative muse." Uhura does more than
just
open hailing frequencies. She knows why we love Len the way we do.
Takes place immediately after V'Ger (even before
they return home).
Rating: R for language
Thanks to Janet for the quick beta. All errors remain mine.
FEedback is
always welcome.
Well, well, well, she thought. Here's something she hadn't done in
while. Frankly, Uhura
hadn't expected to ever be able to do it
again. She should have known better, though. Never say never. The
Enterprise
had worked her magic once again and her silver siren's
song—and one sneaky Starfleet admiral—had called him
back. So here
she was in the new and improved ship lounge, nicknamed 10-forward for
its location, sitting on the plush
couch in the corner, drinking
something colorful and sweet, and watching one Leonard McCoy, M.D.
He had always fascinated
her. Oh, not romantically. The chemistry
just wasn't there. But watch him? Study him? Try to figure him
out? Oh yeah.
That she could do for hours. Watch him with Spock?
Now that was a favorite pastime. Can you say immovable object and
undeniable
force with a side order of sexual tension, please?
She heard McCoy had come aboard with a beard. She tried to visualize
it,
but just couldn't. She didn't think she'd like it on him. Spock
with a beard was something else, maybe even Scotty, but
not McCoy.
That square jaw needed to remain bare, the lips clearly visible. She
wondered if it had been dark? Salt and
pepper maybe? He was showing
a few light streaks. She'd have to ask Christine if she saw it.
At the moment he was
slouching. She hated that, but she knew it made
him more approachable if he looked relaxed. Of course she had
studied
him long enough to know he was rarely relaxed. Slouching,
sitting, even slightly drunk, the energy just buzzed through
him.
Still, she preferred when he was standing at this full height. What
could she say, she had always liked men tall
and thin. Spock and
McCoy together on the bridge just made her shift.
He had lost weight since the original mission.
But the grapevine
said he'd been working at a research hospital. One rumor said he'd
come from New Yonada, but she'd
called up his transport records.
He'd come from Vulcan, of all places; a private research hospital in
the mountainous
region. No doubt there was a story there, and no
doubt no one would ever get all of it. But that explained his weight
loss.
Long hours in a lab, even longer in a hospital without someone
like Chris or Geoff to tell him to go eat, and a vegan diet
when he
did eat. She was surprised he wasn't all lean lines and angles. She
giggled silently into her drink. That butt
was still nicely curved,
thank the stars. She just knew it was perfectly squeezable.
The hands were still expressive,
too. Long fingers on wide palms.
She glanced and the hands and then at his feet, and for the umpteenth
time wondered
if the old adage was true. She been drunk and asked
Chris once if physicals revealed anything. Unfortunately, Chris
hadn't
been drunk enough to tell on her boss. She wondered if it was
the southern gentlemen in him or the doctor in him that led
to the
always manicured nails.
The ring was still there. She assumed no one but McCoy knew the real
story on
that. He told one nurse it was his mother's ring, but he'd
told Sulu it was a gift from his daughter. Scotty had heard
it was
from a former lover. Tonia had never asked fearing the answer; as
long as it wasn't a wedding ring from a current
marriage Tonia was
content to let her curiosity go. Uhura knew McCoy was special
because Chris and Tonia would both
gossip about every guy on the
ship, but neither shared personal details about McCoy. If you asked
Tonia about a date
she had with the doctor, all she did was smile and
say, "Eat your heart out, ladies." Uhura couldn't help but be
intrigued.
All that passion she witnessed when he was arguing with
Spock and all that attention to detail showered on his patients
channeled
into romance and sex. It made for great fantasy. Yep,
Tonia had been a very lucky girl, if only for a little while. Uhura
briefly
turned her attention to Spock as he entered the lounge to
join the doctor and Kirk. She wondered if Spock knew that McCoy's
eyes
immediately tracked his movements. Would those guys ever find
the same book, let alone be on the same page? Do Vulcans
have
prostates? Now there would be a question to ask McCoy.
And then there was McCoy's drawl. It could be concerned;
it could be
sweet and gentlemanly; it could be commanding. It could even be
scary when he was well and truly pissed.
She remembered being out of
her mind with confusion in sickbay, hearing him whisper to her. She
wondered if he used
the same tone with lovers that he did with
patients. Would "you're going to be just fine" have the same tenor
and confidence
as "come for me, lover"? Would are "how are you
feeling" sound remotely similar to "God, but you feel good." But her
absolute
favorite McCoy tone was when it was sarcastic. If the
situation hadn't been so damned serious, she would have had to stifle
a
grin at his "what do you think we should do, spank it?" comment to
Spock. She may have a fondness for a certain Scottish
brogue, and
even a Russian accent, but that drawl was like Spock's lyre—you
couldn't not listen to it.
She
smiled softly to herself. Yes, he was a very attractive man.
You couldn't not want to fuck him six ways from Sunday. More
than
that, though, was the size and character of his heart. You couldn't
not want to cherish him and take care of him.
He
caught her staring at him and walked over to her. "You want
another drink?" he asked politely curious.
"I want to
know what you were doing on Vulcan." Honesty was the best
strategy, right?
He looked at her for a long time, weighing
his options, and no doubt
wondering why she wanted to know and if it was in his best interest
to tell her. He shrugged,
finally, "that's where the work was."
Translation: I'll tell you about it, but not today.
He repeated his original
question, "So, you want another drink?"
"Yes, please."
"What are you drinking?"
"A buttery nipple."
He
lowered his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes. "You expect me to order
*that* from that barely old enough to be out after dark
bartender?"
"Surprise me, then" she laughed.
"Ever tried a cascade failure?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Okay,
two cascade failures coming up. And then you can catch me up
on all the Starfleet gossip I've missed."
Translation:
give me a reason to think about staying.
One thing she knew, even if he didn't stay reinstated, she'd never
forget
his eyes. They could shine with the promise of heaven, and
gleam with the promise of hell. And she was hard pressed to
say
which was more appealing.
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