leftwithmybones | [For Scotty]

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[For Scotty]

McCoy isn't sure what to make of the Island in general, but he knows now more than ever that he generally hates it. Little surly gods of love running around with messages? Yeah, not exactly his idea of paradise. He's made it to the morning of the fifteenth, though, and has wandered out to the main room, knocking on Spock's door. "Spock?" he calls out. "Spock, I'm going to get breakfast, I'll bring you back some tea."

With no audible response (or one too quiet for him to dignify), he sets off on a path that'll take him by Scotty's place. If nothing else, maybe he can have some decent company while he gets something to eat and celebrates the fact that he survived a chintzy holiday created for no better reason than to sell chocolates and cards. He arrives and waits outside, not bothering to even knock. "Scotty!" he calls, voice decently loud. "It's morning, c'mon, let's go eat!"

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"Mmm?" Scotty mumbled. He didn't want to wake up; he was feeling lovely and warm and rested, after one of the best nights he'd had in years. A few moments later, he realised who was speaking and remembered who exactly he'd spent that night with, and then he wasn't feeling lovely and warm and rested at all.

"Nng," he grunted, pulling himself upright, all too aware of how (and where) he ached. He looked through bleary eyes at McCoy, who had clearly returned to his usual self given by the expression on his face. Scotty swallowed hard, not exactly easy given how dry his mouth and throat were. "Aw, fuck."

McCoy grabs at his shirt and pulls it on, knowing that he probably still looks like a damn mess because his hair is refusing to go down an inch and he reeks of...well, it. Apparently his body has no goddamn problem performing when under some kind of sick love spell. "Whatever happened yesterday was clearly some kind of drug-fueled alien-type bad voodoo," he spits out.

"Aye, I'll go with that," Scotty said, rubbing at his head, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. It was far too early in the morning for this.

"Y'know, in the Academy, they did warn us that this sort of thing might happen. Y'know, always look after your drinks and don't sniff any funny flowers on alien planets or else you might end up in an orgy with all your co-workers, kind of thing," he ventured. Of course, 'sex pollen' and all that had always been a running joke, a tongue-in-cheek way of explaining a bad one-night stand. It was downright scary actually being taken over like that.

McCoy isn't exactly in a laughing mood so he just glowers sternly in Scotty's direction, pacing back and forth with his arms wrapped around his torso tightly and tensely. "Are you clean?" he demands, trying to run through the most important points first.

Scotty was briefly annoyed at the implication he couldn't be trusted, but no, it's a fair question, and trust a doctor to think of it first.

"Aye," he nodded, "Ye tested me after I first arrived on the Enterprise, and, well... well, this is the first time since that." It'd been a very long time; he'd been a bit frustrated even before his exile, and there'd been no chances then (he liked Keenser, but no), and he'd not been on the Enterprise long enough to make any real headway with anyone new.

"What about you?"

"I get myself tested every six months just in case," McCoy assures, sometimes more often because he never knows what patients are carrying into Medical and he wants to be careful. He rubs his hand over his face and only succeeds in messing up his hair a little more. "Well, fuck me twice," he sighs, drawl heavy. "You're back to your wits? Nothing lingering?"

Scotty looked McCoy up and down, and felt precisely nothing of the terrifyingly powerful lust that'd occupied him all of yesterday.

"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered. "That was island madness and ye know it. Pheromones in the air or something." He stretched, wincing as something in his back made a nasty popping noise. What had he being doing all night? His brain filled in the details, and the wince became a cringe.

"Anyway, it's all out of our systems now. Hopefully."

"I have no idea if it's lingering, doesn't hurt to ask," he points out, voice terse and his body tight like it might explode at any second if he lets himself think about what happened. "Suffice to say," he notes evenly. "Let's consider that proposal rescinded, yeah?"

Scotty managed an awkward chuckle.

"Wouldn't have expected ye to keep on with it," he said. "I know ye didn't mean anything ye said yesterday. I didn't mean it either. I mean, I enjoy your company, but... look, it wasn't us doing any of that."

He got up out of bed at last, stretching his aching limbs, keen to go somewhere else and find a suitable distraction.

"Let's just forget it ever happened, eh?"

"Yeah, friends is probably the best bet," McCoy agrees, feeling at least decent now that he's wearing his own clothes again, even though he feels like he's fucked up in about a dozen ways. One look at Scotty has him cringing and hoping for complete repression of this. "I'm game to forget if you are."

"Then that's agreed, then," Scotty said, picking up a t-shirt from the floor and hastily pulling it on, feeling far too exposed for his liking. "This never happened and we're not going to talk about it and everything's going to be fine. Right?"

"Right," McCoy agrees, but he sounds terse and tense and like he's completely unsure about what to do next. "I don't really want to delve too quickly into touchy-feely crap," he warns. "But are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay!" Scotty said, a little too quickly and a little too loud. "It's... these things happen. It's no big deal. It's awkward, aye, but in a while, we'll look back on all this and laugh."

No, he wasn't exactly happy that his dry period had only been broken due to circumstances behold his control, and he wasn't happy about having his mind taken over, but it had happened, and he refused to dwell on it. He could push it to the back of his mind and he'd be fine.

"Just go, okay?" he said. "I need to get washed and dressed properly."

McCoy arches a brow dubiously, not entirely sure he believes that, but he has a whole lot of drinking to do and he has to somehow sneak back into his own damn home without being noticed by an overly bored Vulcan. "You know where I am if you need any medical help," he offers, feeling like he ought to at least give that much.

"Yeah, yeah," Scotty said, waving it off. "I'm fine, I can look after myself." He sighed. "Please, leave? I wouldn't mind a little bit of privacy for a while."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," he agrees with a curt mutter. "I'm just trying to figure out how to avoid Spock so I don't have to explain the damn thing to a Vulcan who won't get the intricacies of 'Island Magic'," he growls.

Even in his current, slightly shell-shocked state, that was enough to raise a chuckle from Scotty.

"Good luck wi' that," he said, moving to open the door for McCoy. "Don't let him get ye in a mind meld, for both our sakes."

McCoy doesn't comment about Spock's ability (or otherwise) to perform a mind-meld, just nods his head and heads out the door, taking his cue to exit. "I'll see you around," he offers, neglecting to add that he just might be very drunk when that 'around' arrives.

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