Meme

[circ_bamboo]

Prompt me! Go for it! Give me a character, pairing, and a single word prompt and I'll write three sentences based on it! My brain needs to be jump-started.

(stolen from urbancate. I definitely need a jump-start.)

Can also give me a multi-word prompt. It's cool. And you know it'll be more than 3 sentences. And it'll probably take forever. And it's fine to remind me about prompts I swore I'd fill for you. :)

Comments

sequel to "Last Call"

[circ-bamboo.livejournal.com]

[This is not the story I thought I was going to write, but, um. You might get a second fill later.]

McCoy perfectly well understood the desire to do things for stress relief, and he perfectly well understood that different people did different things for said stress relief. With what they'd been through recently, he'd have been more surprised if Jim hadn't been engaging in his most common stress-relief activity. Really, it was his own fault for voluntarily rooming with Jim Kirk.

Of course, that didn't really help him at the current moment. He stared at the four pairs of shoes outside the door, listened long enough to hear breathy noises in multiple ranges, and shook his head. At least he had his coat and wallet, and was wearing civvies. Turning around, he left the dorm with a sigh.

Ten minutes later, he found himself outside his favorite dive bar and thought, Why the hell not? A couple minutes after that, the bartender set a glass of Woodford Reserve in front of him, and he inhaled deeply. Ahhh.

It had been three weeks since they got home, and almost two months since the Battles for Vulcan and Earth, and he'd gotten his share of time off and counseling during that time. He wasn't going to say he was okay, or over it, or anything stupid like that, but at least he thought he could sit in a bar and enjoy a glass or two of bourbon without turning into a melancholy wreck. Well, no more a melancholy wreck than usual.

Halfway into his second glass, he heard someone walk behind him, and then stop, backing up a couple paces. He turned partway, and before he could focus on the person, he heard, "Dr. McCoy?" in a low, smooth female voice.

Well. That was a surprise. He'd heard that voice before, two and some years previous. At the time, she'd told him that her name was Caitlin--Cait--but the actual Cait had given up the jig later, and it turned out she was actually Captain Number One of the U.S.S. Yorktown. That is, Captain Pike's former ship. Which made sense, as she'd been his first officer for years.

All that meant at the present time was that he had no idea what to call her, so he replied with a mumbled, "Yes, sir?"

She smiled, and slid onto the barstool next to him. "Number One," she said. "One." She was dressed in civvies as well, jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.

"Then I'm Leonard," he said. "Or McCoy."

"Leonard," she said, as if trying it out, and smiled again. "Can I buy you another drink?"

He blinked. The night they'd spent together had been--well, 'awkward' was probably the best way to describe it. Frankly, he wasn't that interested in repeating it. "Ah, I'm not sure--" he began.

She cut him off with a gentle hand gesture. "To thank you," she said.

"Thank me?" he said incredulously. "I think you mean my roommate." He'd spent most of the battle trying to talk people out of doing stupid things and then, afterward, patching up Captain Pike with some experimental neural grafting. He still didn't know if they'd worked, but Pike was still alive. As was Jim, somehow.

"No, definitely you," One said, and signaled the bartender to bring them each a drink.

He turned to look at her more closely, and saw all the classic hallmarks of stress: dark circles under her eyes, fragile skin, a tension to her mouth and shoulders, hands twisting together. Suddenly, part of the first conversation they'd ever had replayed itself in his mind. "My best friend thinks I need to get laid, but my best opportunity for such decided to take a trip off-planet for the entire time I'm down here."

Why he remembered that two and a half years later, he had no idea, but everything finally clicked in his head and he blurted out, "You mean Captain Pike."

She nodded; the corners of her mouth twitched briefly before she turned away to thank the bartender for the drink he set in front of her. McCoy acknowledged his own drink with a nod, and returned his focus to her.

A list of questions rose in his throat, but he chased it down with a swig of bourbon and said only, "I did my best. Let's hope it's good enough."

"Let's hope," she said, and clinked her glass against his.

Re: sequel to "Last Call"

[igrockspock.livejournal.com]

Things like this are why I missed seeing you on my flist! This dovetails so beautifully with "Last Call." I confess, I was thinking of that story when I left you that prompt. The ending of this is absolutely perfect.

Re: sequel to "Last Call"

[circ-bamboo.livejournal.com]

Aww, thanks!