circ_bamboo | Meme the Third

NYL-verse, Joanna McCoy/Runt Carroway. A propensity toward reckless behavior may in fact be genetic -- getting away with it is just plain lucky.

(Alternately: Castle/Beckett, on an occasion which requires formalwear.)

Ballrooms were stuffy, horrible places, full of stuffy, horrible people, and Miss Joanna McCoy, of no particularly wonderful family but dowried by the Earl of Riverside and therefore quite artificially popular, disliked all things stuffy and horrible. Which is why, even though she liked the Baron and Lady Prescott very much (they were neither stuffy nor horrible), she was in the process of sneaking out the back door at their ball to take air in the garden.

It was surprisingly easy to manage; the ball was a mad crush, as Uncle Jamie (that is, the Earl of Riverside) might say. She made it all the way out to the garden--completely deserted, as it had been raining earlier--and was rounding a corner when her ankle twisted. It was the same ankle she'd twisted a few weeks ago while attempting to prove she could still climb trees, and she found herself falling backwards and sideways. All of a sudden, unexpectedly, she was--sitting in someone's lap?

"Oof," said the someone, and rather than jump up immediately (among other things, her ankle did hurt), Joanna turned to see on whom she was sitting.

Oh. Edward Carroway, she was fairly certain. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders, and fashionable coats--even though she couldn't see them, she knew him as he was the youngest brother of Viscount Dare, a friend of Uncle Jamie's. "Hello," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Mr. Carroway said. She couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness but he sounded confused. "Miss McCoy?"

"Yes," Joanna said. "I apologize but I've twisted my ankle." She really should have gotten up many, many minutes before, but--he was so warm--and she was probably ruined anyway.

"Ahh. I'm sorry," he said, and his hands, previously in the air, settled around her waist. "Shall I help you stand?"

"If you could," she said, obliquely disappointed.

"I will," he said. "But not before this--" One hand lifted from her waist, settled gently on her cheek, and turned her face to his. Before Joanna could do anything other than blink, his lips touched hers, gently, no more than a bare moment of pressure before lifting away.

"Oh," Joanna said. "Oh."

"Will you save a waltz for me, after your ankle heals?" Mr. Carroway asked.

"Yes," she said, and saw a flash of white teeth as he lifted her off his lap and set her carefully on her feet.

"I can't walk you all the way inside," he said as he stood. "That is, not unless you wish to be ruined."

"I might consider it if it meant no more stuffy balls," Joanna retorted. She tested her ankle gingerly and was pleased to find that it would hold her weight with only slight pain.

Mr. Carroway laughed. "Oh, Miss McCoy, I almost believe you, but I know of your uncle Jamie and your uncle Christopher and I do not want to be the gentleman on your arm when you walk back into that ballroom."

"But I might meet you inside there," Joanna said, and wondered where exactly that tone had come from even as she heard it come out of her mouth.

"You might," Mr. Carroway said, and she could hear him smiling, even if she couldn't see it.

This time Joanna leaned in and pressed her lips briefly to his before pulling away and saying, "I'll take my chances."

She imagined she could feel him watching her all the way inside.

*claps hands*

(It's like practice for Other Regency AU. :-D)

!!!!!!!!!! Oh, that's *lovely*.

Thanks! :)

Awww, I love this! This 'verse makes me happy. ♥

Thanks! :)

*grins at you*

Pike/One or Barry/One (or all three, if you want), late or early.

Number One isn't the only pilot on the Yorktown, but she is by far the best; Caitlin Barry isn't the only engineer, but she knows things that her second can only guess at. And, well, Christopher Pike is, as a matter of fact, the only captain, although there are a good number of captains-in-training floating around. What it means is that as much as they try, it's only maybe two or three nights a week that all three of them can even make it to the same bed at the same time for sleeping, let alone anything else.

The other days, it's something like this:

Chris is the captain, so he gets first dibs on all the 'good' shifts. But space doesn't really care about Federation Standard Time, and so he gets called to the bridge at 0300 ship's time to deal with potential hostiles. Cait is working beta shift that week, and although she wasn't tired yet, she'd been curled up in bed, reading an engineering journal as Chris slept. Before he leaves, though, functional but only half-awake yet, Cait stops him. She flattens out an errant tuft of hair, resettles his tunic so the seams are straight, and takes his face in her hands and kisses him.

She tastes like the tea she's been drinking and maybe just faintly of the glass of wine they'd shared before bed, but it isn't so much how she tastes as how she feels, warm and solid and present under his hands. He has no idea how he survived on a starship for however long he's been on one without the ever-present knowledge that he has someone--two someones--and that if he is alone, if his bed is empty, it's by choice. But now that he has it, he never wants to let it go. Never wants to let them go, although obviously he has to right at the present moment because One needs him to do the talking so she can do the flying.

He leans in for one last touch and bumps noses with Cait, who grins at him. "Go," she says, and hands him his comm unit. She pats him on the ass on his way out the door, and he shakes his head as he jogs down the hall.

* * *

Later, after the potential situation has been defused and Chris returns to his room, Cait is just returning as well. "I was just checking Engineering," she says, and he smiles.

They strip and slide under the covers again, Chris a little wired from the bridge situation, Cait yawning hard enough to make his jaw ache in sympathy. "Too tired?" he asks, trying not to touch her in ways to sway her decision but unable to keep his hands from her skin.

She thinks for a moment, and then smiles slowly and says, "No," as she reaches a hand down to wrap around him.

* * *

Chris is in the shower, running a few minutes late (it's fine; he was on the bridge for two hours in the middle of the night and contrary to popular notion, Starfleet does have rules about the number of hours one is allowed to work in any given time period), when One returns from her bridge shift. Cait is still bundled in the blankets, but she rouses when she hears One and sits up, letting the sheet slide off her shoulders. "One," she says. "Come here."

One does, and sits on the edge of the bed, picking up a lock of Cait's hair off her shoulder. She doesn't get wired after tense situations the same way Chris does--alert, certainly, but not automatically aroused. She is close enough to smell their earlier lovemaking, though, and Cait's bare skin is mere inches away and she is smiling in that way that means that she knows exactly what One is thinking.

"Come here," Cait repeats, and One takes a deep breath before pushing Cait back against the pillows and covering her body with her own.

* * *

When Chris gets out of the bathroom, One's still mostly clothed, but she's busy with her fingers and Cait is busy gasping. He stops and watches until Cait cries out and pulls One's head down to hers, sealing their mouths together. He can hear them making small noises, Cait still hauling in breaths, One's uniform rasping against the sheets.

If only I didn't have to leave, he thinks, and sighs, although he loves the bridge of the Yorktown almost as much as he loves these two women. Turning to the dresser, he pulls out a uniform and starts dressing.

Warm arms wrap around him before he can pull his tunic on, and it's One; he knows even before he turns around. "Hi," he says. "Good morning and good evening."

"It's been pretty good so far," One says, half-smiling, and leans in for a kiss.

She tastes faintly of Cait but moreso of herself; she is solid and real in ways that Cait isn't, and ethereal in ways that Cait is not, either. They are not interchangeable and he would never kiss them as if they were, so One gets different pressure and different strokes of his tongue even as she cups his face almost the same way that Cait did.

They break apart a few moments later, and he pulls himself away reluctantly to finish dressing. He watches One undress, though, and slide back into bed with Cait, and he can't stop himself from going to the bed to kiss them both one last time before leaving for shift.

They both grab his ass as he turns, and he smiles all the way to the bridge.

EEE.

EEE.

EEE. <3 <3 <3

More dolphin noises! :-D

Mmmmmmmm. *sinks into this*

Glad you liked!

Oh my stars and garters. This is so gorgeously true. Eee, thank you!

I'm so glad the Internet deigned to let me finally read this. :D (My household had an outage yesterday and today, or I wouldn't be so late.)

I'm so glad you liked it!

Trek, McCoy and Lianne Benscoter (because I just reread that fic this morning!), one-year anniversary

"Congratulations, man!" Jim clapped McCoy on the shoulder as he rounded the corner of the table in the mess at breakfast. "You won me a ridiculous number of credits." He sat, thunking his tray on the table, a huge grin on his face.

"I did?" McCoy asked. "How?"

"You made it a whole year with Ensign Bonus."

"Don't call her that," McCoy said automatically. "Wait, what?"

"A year. You know, 365 standard days? You and Lianne have been 'stepping out together'--" Jim made sarcastic air quotes like no other. "--for a year now."

"Oh, my god," McCoy said, the horror slowly dawning. "Oh, my god, I thought I--well, shit." He stood. "I gotta go, Jim."

Mouth full, Jim flapped a hand at him.

McCoy dumped his tray and ran out of the mess as quickly as humanly possible. Lianne was on beta shift this week, so she was still curled up asleep in his bed--their bed--well, technically his bed but she hadn't really slept anywhere else in months. At least, she had been there a half hour ago, so he hoped she was still there. He skidded into the turbolift, and ran down another hallway until he got to Botany.

Fortunately Sulu was in there. "I need--flowers," McCoy said, waving his hands generally. "For Lianne."

Sulu nodded. "Of course."

A few minutes later McCoy left, holding a pot with something Sulu swore was hypoallergenic in his hands. It did have a pretty purple flower on the top. Hopefully she'd like it; he didn't know jackshit about flowers but he at least knew that they were a good idea. Flipping his comm unit open as he strode back towards his quarters, he called down to the mess and made sure that there would be chocolate cake later.

He slipped into his quarters quietly; the lights were still dimmed, but he could see that Lianne had sprawled out to cover nearly all of the bed. He smiled, and set the flowerpot on the nightstand with a soft click.

Lianne hummed and turned towards him. "Leonard?" she said sleepily.

"Right here, darlin'," he said.

"Didn't you go on shift?"

"I did," he said. "I came back because I forgot something."

"Oh," she said. "Okay." She made as if to roll over, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and leaned down, meeting her lips with his.

He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, stroking his tongue against her bottom lip, delving inside her mouth and finding the tip of her tongue with his. After a long, lazy moment, she curled her head and shoulders up to press more firmly against him and found the back of his neck with a hand.

"Mmm," she said, a few moments later, her forehead against his. "That can't be what you forgot."

"As a matter of fact," he said, "it partially was. Happy anniversary, Lianne."

"Oh," she said. "Is that today? No, wait, it's tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" McCoy said. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," she said, and reached for her padd on the nightstand, tapping it a few times and holding it out to him. "Yes, tomorrow."

"Oh," McCoy said, looking at the annotation on her calendar. "Well, hell, I got you a flower today." He gestured at the pot.

"Oh, good," Lianne said, and grinned at him. "This means I get two days of anniversary, right?"

"Right," he said, and leaned back down to kiss her again.

After he left for Sickbay for the second time, he briefly thought about killing Jim, and then thought of two nights of anniversary sex. A long, delicious moment later, McCoy decided to send Jim a piece of chocolate cake instead.

This totally made me smile this morning!

"You made it a whole year with Ensign Bonus."

"Don't call her that," McCoy said automatically.

I like the implication that Jim calls her that all the time just to get on Bones's nerves. He would do no less. :-P

He totally does call her Ensign Bonus, but only when she's nowhere around. :)

*giggles* Funny and sweet, and I bet he'll pay back Jim one day in the future :)

Oh, he will definitely pay Jim back. :) Thanks!

After he left for Sickbay for the second time, he briefly thought about killing Jim, and then thought of two nights of anniversary sex. A long, delicious moment later, McCoy decided to send Jim a piece of chocolate cake instead.

BWEE. *applauds, laughing delightedly*

Hee, thanks!

Meme the Third

no subject

... something?

Re: ... something?

Re: ... something?

Re: ... something?

Re: ... something?

Re: ... something?

Re: ... something?

no subject

Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 1/2

Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

Re: Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

Re: Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

Re: Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

Re: Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

Re: Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

Re: Love is touch (touch is love): R/NSFW 2/2

no subject

Chocolate cake is awesome

Re: Chocolate cake is awesome

Re: Chocolate cake is awesome

Re: Chocolate cake is awesome

Re: Chocolate cake is awesome

Re: Chocolate cake is awesome

Re: Chocolate cake is awesome