leftwithmybones | [For Chase]

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chase

[For Chase]

McCoy's not sure what to do about the fact that he's still on an Island, so instead of doing something about it, he retires to the jazz club and decides to drink, instead. It's not the most productive plans, it's not the best, but it gives him something to do. It gets him away from the Nameless Cat and Spock and it lets him drift into some version of the past where he had no worries, could be carefree, and a normal man not bowed down in grief for six billion souls, an ex-wife who kept his daughter from him, and his father's life weighing on his conscience.

He's starting to think maybe Jim and Chekov have the right idea. Find someone and let everything be poured into that desperate act of sex or companionship or whatever passes for it these days. He knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another as he turns to look at the woman that he's been watching since she came in. She's young, but not young and undeniably beautiful. He might be tipsy, but he knows that he's not dead inside if he can still acknowledge someone so stunning.

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"Well, I like to think of myself as a simple ol' country doctor and not a 'space' doctor," he says with the proper invettas. God help him if ever that's how he starts to think of himself, soaring through galaxies with no foot on earth. "But that is a funny thing, really. She leave anything behind?"

"Nothing of interest in the house," Chase said with a shrug. "There's a nice crop of marijuana nearby, but I'm told that comes from her roommate. Someone is still taking care of it, I think, every once in a while it looks a bit... tidier." She'd never been much of a pot smoker herself; most of it she had gotten out of the way in high school just to annoy her parents.

"Marijuana, that's...antiquated," McCoy notes without approval or disapproval in his tone. After all, he's seen worse and stranger in his time as a doctor and especially when he'd been coming up through the ER. "I think we can do without the drugs tonight though, don't you?"

"I think so, yes," Chase said, thinking just how long it had been since she'd done this. Picking a guy up at a bar and bringing him home just seemed like something so... far away. Not here on the island.

Maybe that's why it seemed like such a good idea; maybe she was homesick.

Or maybe she just wanted to sleep with someone who didn't wear a suit and fight crime.

He knows that one little move can make or break the evening and he ought to be careful, but he still sidles closer and slides his arm lightly around her shoulders, just enough to toy idly with a strand of her hair. "This is a real beautiful shade, you know," he observes. "I bet you've got women more than jealous of it."

Chase laughed lightly at that. "Maybe they are, I don't know. I think there are more than enough beautiful women to go around here. Don't tell me you haven't noticed?"

"They're also young and I doubt many of them are as intelligent or well-mannered as you," McCoy points out and he believes every damn word of it. He used to be good at this game, once upon a time, and now he wants to be good at it again, at least to enjoy himself for one evening.

Chase lifted an eyebrow at that. "You're saying I'm not young?" she asked, obviously teasing.

"I'm saying that you're not some teenage girl more preoccupied with her looks than the brains God gave her," McCoy says and it might be unnecessarily cruel, but then, he's been quick to judge for years now, ever since his ex-wife was quick to take away everything he loved. "Besides, I like age."

"I'm thirty-one," said Chase, and could see them coming upon her hut just at the end of the path. "Is that old enough to strike your fancy?"

"Well, seeing as I'm thirty-two, it sounds pretty perfect to me," McCoy agrees and gives her an easy smile, feeling like everything is coming along just right. They're getting along damn well and he thinks that maybe he'll have taken the edge off soon enough.

"Oh, well how fortuitous," Chase said, flashing him a smile, and then gestured up ahead. "That's my place. Did I mention that the couch is brand new? Showed up on my front lawn a few days ago."

That gets a laugh from McCoy, pulled out of the depths of him like he's almost forgotten how to do something simple like just laugh. "Oh, really?" he muses. "Well, then, we can't have it just sitting there without a proper introduction to the Island."

"Exactly!" Chase laughed. "I did at least find someone to help me carry it inside. I've been planning on turning the empty bedroom into an office but right now it's just an empty room with a couch. Which I guess would be kind of intimidating to patients..."

"Or very effective," McCoy feels compelled to point out, easing slightly closer to her as they walk, his arm still around her waist. "After all, who says we have to make patients at ease. Sometimes when they're at their most discomfited, they talk the most."

"Well, perhaps we should test that theory on you, hmm? Tell me how talkative you feel in a bit." Okay, so she was really starting to like him. Not bad for a bar pickup, better than she usually did in New York, that was for sure.

They got to her hut and up the porch, where she fumbled with the latch for a minute before opening the door.

McCoy waits behind her, not wanting to rush her at all because he'd been brought up better than that. He keeps his head cast low as he watches and holds the door open for her, gesturing inside. "After you," he indicates, starting to feel some of the earlier-imbibed liquid courage work its way through his veins.

Chase waited for him to step in behind her and then closed the door behind them. "Home sweet home," she said. The surroundings were pretty sparse still, the obvious highlight being a chair where a book still lie open on the arm.

"Now there are two other rooms..." she said, walking and gesturing for him to follow. "My bedroom - " The door was open, and the bed was unmade, dark sheets tumbled on the mattress. She laughed. "Sorry, I didn't know I was having company. And - "

She stepped to the side and opened the other door. The room was completely empty except for the large leather fainting couch (http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h68/violet_quill/chaise.jpg). "And there you are. I think the first thing I'll need to do is bribe a carpenter to construct a desk for me."

McCoy clears his throat as he steps into her home, feeling like they've gone ahead and crossed over more than just the literal threshold and now he stands at her mercy, wanting to follow her lead and not overstep his bounds. "Here we are," he agrees and looks at the couch as he turns to her and takes a deep breath as he summons up his courage. He presses closer and wraps his arm around her back, easing closer to press his lips over hers in a light and soft kiss to start them off. "I don't mind the mess," he promises.

It was a soft kiss, a sweet one, not the sort of thing you would expect from a guy you just picked up in a bar, even if he is a well-mannered southern divorced space doctor.

She let the kiss linger for a moment and then slipped her arms around his neck, looking up at him. "Do you do this often?" she asked softly.

He shakes his head and keeps his attention on her, stress settling high in his shoulders and making him hum with tension. "No," he breathes out the singular word, not sure what he's supposed to do next. If this were Jocelyn, they would have done something against routine, gone to eat dinner and left him wanting.

"Me neither," Chase said, because it was true, or at least it had been for some time. She slid a hand into his shirt and pulled him over to the couch, falling down onto it with him and kissing him again. It was kind of funny, actually - felt a little like when she was in high school, making out with a guy her dad most certainly didn't approve of before he got home from work.

McCoy's back protests mildly, but he's not old enough just yet that it knocks him out of commission and he tightens his arms' grip on her small waist and pulls her closer, one hand straying from her waist to brush hair out of her face, trying to clear the way so he can keep kissing as his body tries to catch up to the program.

It doesn't usually take this long, but McCoy is blaming that on the length of time it's been since he last did this.

Chase slid one hand up into his hair and pressed herself even closer. It felt... nice. She ducked her head then and kissed his neck, sliding one hand down his chest, fingers bunching in the material.

McCoy's feeling pretty heady. He hasn't had enough to drink to make him tipsy, let alone drunk, but there's something about the smell of a woman's hair, the faint miasma of her whole being, and he's been captivated by it before to his detriment. He feels like he deserves this again. "Couch?" he checks, kissing her lips lightly as he pulls away just enough to ask. "Not the bed?"

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