Thankfully Sickbay was mostly deserted as he was directed to a biobed and told to wait – he wasn't sure he was in the mood for the world to witness his foolishness. Bad enough Jim knew, and had threatened to holovid him hobbling around for blackmail purposes unless he got his knee looked at by a professional. ("No way anyone's holding me responsible for the injury of the youngest Starfleet captain in the fleet, not with my reputation," Jim had said with an insouciant grin, and honestly, how the hell was he supposed to defend himself against that?) He hadn't been sitting for more than a minute, maybe two, before a tall, dark-haired human – obviously the doctor on duty, given his uniform and insignia – approached him with a scowl on his face that still couldn't quite hide his startling good looks. It also didn't hurt that he had the body to match – broad-shouldered and lean-hipped with powerful looking thighs and he wore his uniform like it had been molded to him. Chris was suddenly very conscious of his sweaty tank top and gym shorts. The doctor's voice was as gruff as his scowl, and just as drop-dead sexy in spite of it. "What the hell happened to you?" Chris shrugged, and pointed at his swollen, purpling knee. "It's nothing. Springball accident. I'm sure I just need a hypo and I'll be fine." He'd wanted to treat himself at home, actually, but Jim had been very insistent. And right now, given the view, Chris was happy he'd acquiesced. "Oh you do, do you?" The scowl was replaced by a sardonic smile as the doctor's remarkable eyes, a fascinating cross between hazel and green, flashed with amusement. "I guess it's lucky for you that one of us actually has a medical degree." "Look, Doctor –" "It's McCoy. Or Bones," the doctor interrupted. "And all of you captains and captain wannabes are just alike. Think you're all super-human and phaser fire'll just bounce right off of you. Must eat you up every time you're forced to admit you're as frail and mortal as the next fella." Chris couldn't help the laugh – it had been a very long time since he'd been dressed down so thoroughly. He wondered, given McCoy's rather pronounced accent, what part of the American South he was from, and it surprised him how much he wanted to know the answer to that question and a hundred more he had where the good doctor was concerned. "Were you planning on lecturing me to death or actually fixing my knee?" In answer, McCoy ran a medical tricoder over him quickly and dispassionately. "Human, male, early 40s, in pretty good shape, although your blood pressure is a little on the high end..." Chris quirked an eyebrow. "And what's that got to do with my knee?" McCoy just waved him off. "I'm getting there, hold your horses. Looks like a torn ACL, nothing serious. Should be able to fix you right up. But next time, if you're gonna insist on acting like an idiot, try to be more aware of your movements. Feint left instead of right." "So noted." Chris liked McCoy better and better already, and not just because he was easily the most attractive person Chris had seen in a very long time. "You always this nice to your patients?" McCoy's gave a short, startled bark of laughter. "Captain, this is me being nice." "It's Chris. If you're going to treat me like a first year cadet, we should at least be on a first name basis." "Leonard. Since we're being polite and all," McCoy answered, with a sarcastic lift of an eyebrow. Leonard – it suited him. Sort of old-fashioned, reminded Chris of the ancient romantic novels and knights on trust steeds having grand adventures. "Did you know you've got a hairline patella fracture that hasn't fully healed?" McCoy asked, as he snapped the tricorder closed and picked up the dermal regenerator. "I did, yes. I'm pretty sure one came from playing Parrises Squares." "Parrises...you gotta be kidding me." McCoy's impressive brows drew together in a thunderous frown. "Have you got a death wish, man? Don't you know how dangerous that game is?" Chris wondered if he should tell McCoy that the more he glowered, the sexier he looked. "Relax, I haven't played it in years," he said, instead, mostly because he did have a healthy survival instinct. "That fracture, as I'm sure your tricorder will tell you, is at least a decade old." He couldn't resist the next bit, however. "But thanks for caring so much about my well-being. You should at least let me buy you coffee to show my gratitude." McCoy crossed his arms across that very impressive chest, his look a cross between exasperation and curiosity. "How often does that work?" Chris flashed his most brilliant smile. "How often does what work?" "That," McCoy waved. "The 24-carat, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-your-mouth charm." "Often enough. Should I apologize for flirting?" "You do realize that any way I answer you will make me look like an ass?" "So don't," Chris answered. "Just say yes." "Say yes to what?" "Coffee." No way Chris was leaving without a yes. He wanted to get to know this irascible, gorgeous doctor a whole lot better, and wasn't in the mood to injure himself again just for the excuse to visit Sickbay. McCoy set the dermal regenerator down on the biobed with a clang. "You're serious?" "Shouldn't I be?" "You're out of your goddamn mind," McCoy stated. "That's not a no," Chris pointed out with a smirk. "If you're not interested, just tell me." "I didn't say that. What I meant was –" "So you are interested?" Chris couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun flustering another person. McCoy threw his hands in the air in frustration. "If I say yes, will you shut up and sit still for five minutes so I can fix your knee?" "Sure. But just so we're clear, you did say yes." "I'm not a man to go back on my word once I've given it." Better and better, Chris thought, and watched McCoy work, amusing himself by watching the way the overhead lights reflected reddish glints in McCoy's hair. It was foolishly romantic of him, but he was in the mood to indulge himself just a little. It had been awhile since he'd been this interested in someone else. "There," McCoy finally pronounced, after a few minutes. "ACL's been fixed, and I also patched up the patella. You should be as good as new." Chris looked down at his knee. It was once again its usual size, and back to its normal color. "I feel better already." Chris swung himself off the bed. He was pleased to note that McCoy – Leonard, he reminded himself – easily matched him in height. "What are you doing Friday, 1900 hours?" Leonard gave him a suspicious look. "I'm off rotation at 1700 hours on Friday, why?" "Starfleet Command is throwing its annual Winter Holidays party for all personnel still on Earth. I was wondering if you'd like to be my date." Leonard frowned, those sexy brows of his lowering along with his lips. "Sit back down so I can check you for a head injury." "I didn't hit my head." "You must've if you think I'd do well in a room full of Starfleet brass," Leonard scoffed. "I agreed to coffee." "Exactly," Chris replied, with a sunny smirk he knew would irritate Leonard and make him scowl again. "And since I've seen the menu, I know there's a banquet followed by a dessert bar that happens to feature a variety of coffees from at least five different planets." "That's cheating!" Leonard sputtered, after a shocked second of silence. "I prefer the term strategic maneuvering," Chris answered. Gotcha. "So, Friday, 1900 hours? I'll pick you up. It's informal, so your dress uniform won't be required." "I should've left you to hobble around in agony." "Relax. I promise, it really is a low-key affair. Gives everyone a chance to relax and get the holiday season off to a nice start," Chris said. He didn't blame Leonard for being skittish about going to a Starfleet sponsored party – most of them were notoriously dull. "They even serve real alcohol at these things, not the synthehol crap you're used to." Leonard put a hand to his heart in an exaggerated gesture. "Thank God for small favors." Chris couldn't help the wink. He was certain no one would blame him – Leonard flustered so easily, it was impossible not to wind him up just a little bit more. "So, I'll see you Friday. Since I know you're a man of your word." "You're a tricky sonofabitch." Chris leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in Leonard's eyes. "And I intrigue the hell out of you, Doctor." For a moment, neither moved. Time seemed to stop around them as Chris drank in every tiny detail – the almost imperceptible hitch in Leonard's breath, the flash of interest in his eyes, the way he shifted every so slightly closer. Then Chris smiled: a true one, without any hint of irreverence behind it. "Thank you for the treatment." "You're welcome," Leonard replied gruffly, then offered his own small smile that made the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle in a most delightful way. "Now get the hell out of my Sickbay so I can get some real work done." Chris decided then and there that he was going to do his best to get Leonard to smile just like that all the time. "See you Friday," he answered, then sauntered away, whistling under his breath. Onto Initial Diagnosis
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