Leonard Horatio McCoy (notjimsnanny) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-11 18:40:00 |
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Current mood: | embarrassed |
Entry tags: | !complete, christine chapel, leonard mccoy |
Better than Ben and Jerry's
Who: Christine and Bones
Where: Their Hotel Room in Vegas
When: Now.
What: Well, someone had to do the walk of shame! And they might actually like it.
Ratiing: PG-13 for a bra and some glossed overness.
The morning after one drinks copious amounts of alcohol, one tends to wake up with a mouth feeling like they'd swallowed the contents of a ash tray in a biker bar, if it'd had half a room temp beer poured in it, and maybe a few crumbs of a greasy pork sandwich rolled in it, for good measure. It usually involved sucking down mass quantities of black coffee, more alcohol, or energy drinks to get past the slump. One just wakes up, drags themselves to the bathroom, does their business, and tried to slog through the rest of the day. Like a zombie.
So that is what Christine did, reliving some of her worst moments of high school drinking on Saturday nights, and trying to hide it from her mom (and her current boyfriend of the week) in the morning. Christine rolled out of bed, wondered why it felt like there was a draft, and headed to the bathroom. At least she wasn't puking! That was major bonus points. She bumped into everything in the bathroom while she was in there, stared at herself in the mirror like she didn't recognize the person there, and wandered right back to bed. Bloop. In she goes. Not even noticing any nudity or nothing. There. Curled up, all better. Even her butt was smushed against something warm, which was nicer. Yay, buttwarmer! It didn't immediately click that it was another person in bed with her, because that? To Christine? Just never happened. Most other people were smart enough to vacate before 9am, and some in varying states of terror.
Instead, Christine, in her sloppy hungover state, simply grinned like 'ahhh is good' and rolled over to give the whatsit a cuddle because it was warm and comfy, and she was giving it a hugging of thanks for softening the edge off that hangover hell.
And McCoy, still half asleep, had a little smile on his face as he leaned over to cuddle back, and wrap his arms around her tighter. Mm. That had been nice. He'd needed to be comforted after that ride and all. And the alcohol. Even HE hadn't survived Vegas. But at least this was a nice bonus, yeah? Mm...Comfortable.
So comfy. Christine let out a soft sigh of contentment, eyes closed, hair all smushed funny in odd directions. There was obviously no surviving Vegas. They are probably going to find out very soon that it chewed you up and spit you out, and then sent you back home wishing you'd taken a nice relaxing vacation somewhere like...vermont. Milking goats and making cheese. Quietly. In the middle of nowhere.
A long moment of what seemed to be comfortable silence sat in. It was so nice, even the daylight wasn't quite as harsh as it should've been after a full night of way, way, way too much drinking. So much so, that Christine said in a hushed, dreamy voice, "...this is really nice..."
It was better than Ben & Jerry's. Yep. That's saying a lot.
"Yeeah..." McCoy agreed, his drawl thicker than usual as he was making no attempts to hide it here and now. " 's amazing. Could do this all day..." he added, then yawned a little. "You're soft, you know?"
"Yeaaaaah, y'all ain't so bad yourself," she said in a lazy texas girl sort of way, and that was usually the point where she said her ancestors were french canadian beaver trappers, instead of owning up to the byproduct of growing up in the lone star state. To show her appreciation (and because the voice wasn't clicking just blissfully comforting in its familiarity), Christine got rubby hand of caressingness. That hand was going places, but she was meanwhile trying to piece together how she ended up in bed with this hot hunk of southern man, and was slowly piecing together last night's festivities.
Bar? Yeah, did that. Somewhere in there, she remembers being so drunk that she was crying about men not wanting her or being stalkers from Lifetime for Women tv movies. Yep, that happened. Something about stumbling into an elevator. Lips maybe met. Hands maybe roamed. It was somehow a miracle they ended up in the room where...wait, who was 'they'...the last person she'd been hanging out with was Leonard and...
Christine's eyes fluttered open and then went wide, as she froze in place. Her mouth was a big O of OH NOES. And her hand...well, it was better not to say where it stopped, but she was, like, too shocked to move it.
And that was when McCoy slowly realized he'd had his hand on her chest all night practically, and then popped his head there and...the drawl. He knew the drawl and it horrified him as the other memories came dashing back. The elevator, God, had they left her bra in there? He hoped not, for everybody's sake, and well, it was a CLEAR one...what had they been..."Holy fucking shit." he said out loud.
That bra? It was so left in the elevator. And, in fact, was also now a prized possession of some 85 year old man, who was upstairs wearing it and turning to and fro in the bathroom mirror, as this was happening.
Boob pillows? Oh yes, he had his face there, she was remembering that, and remembering it was nice at the time, and hair petting and his eyebrows looked much less disgruntled than usual. It was probably time to get her hand off of little Leo though, though it was maybe not so little. So that's a bad nickname for it. The King of the Lab's scepter. There, that's marginally better, but it was not helping her at all, because she had to move her hand over onto his hip and just...give it one pat and leave her hand there. And try not to cling on for dear life, because the implications of what they did? Not so good, probably.
"Oh god," Christine said, finally, in that way in which one might speak if they were watching a catastrophe on the television. Live, in real time and everything. "Oh god. Ohhhh god."
God? He don't want nothing to do with this. Sorry. Pray again later. He'll get back to you.
"Whatever God likes us anyway." McCoy put in, shaking his head. "Got the feeling we offended several." Heh. Seriously though. What the hell had they... "We crossed lines..."
THE SHAME. Christine simply closed her eyes, because that shame was of the crushing variety. She simply could not manage to look him in the eyes, after...after....oh they had offended so many religions and deities, during drunken sexcapades.
"I think...." she said, trying to keep her voice steady, and not get a wibbly lower lip and very emotional about the whole mess, "...we stomped on the lines, burned them, and cursed the lines’ children."
"Yeah...." McCoy agreed. "Like tearing them down in a storm. Not that I didn't...Well, you're awesome, Christine, honestly." Little grin. "But now it's gonna be all awkward with us, isn't it? No looking at the other for a while or..." Cringe.
"I didn't want that," she said, and her voice had become a very thready whisper all of a sudden, like that thought terrified her. "I mean, it was good. I remember some...most...of it, now? That I'm awake? And horrified? It was...it was awesome, right, but....mmm. We can pretend it didn't happen."
Good luck there! The hotel would like to remind you that you are sharing a hotel room for a whole other night. ENJOY YOUR AWKWARD.
"We're gonna have to." McCoy agreed. "I mean just so...we have to be adults about it and all, right?" Cause oh god, the shame. He couldn't even look at her just now, just focus on the sheets and... God.
She was staring at the ceiling, and trying to do deep breathing exercises. The shame. It was so much. So, so much. It was also the one person on the planet she was not, like...well she did really love him like a friend and stuff, obviously, but she was not professing her undying eternal love for, and planning weddings, and what sort of exotic soup she'd cook for him on their 5th wedding anniversary, or what they'd name their third child. It was like, the brakes? They were working correctly, when it came to him. Did they work for anyone else? Hells to the no, she would run men over and then keep going around in circles, continuing to run them over until they crawled off using only their fingertips, begging for mercy.
Still, he was right. She's just not ready to look at him, yet.
"We are adults. You know, Leo? There's no reason we should be ashamed of this," Christine was saying, trying to blink back tears. Tears of regret. "It happened. So what? It doesn't change anything. We're still, like, best friends. That just happened to...have had...oh god."
NOW Christine turned away, so she could bury her face in the pillow and cover her head entirely with the blanket. Sorry if you needed those, McCoy, because she just turned into a total blanket hog.
Yeah, it was more...They didn't do sex because it was complicated, and while he loved Christine a lot, it was more like the way McCoy loved Jim and all. Plus? He was so not into the idea of getting married ever again. Too much baggage from the first time, too many antics he had caused and...you know. It was just not something he was comfortable with. And he'd never inflict himself on Christine like that. "You know. You've got a point." He agreed. "I mean it's that or..." pause. "The other approach. Which we don't want, right?"
Well, vice versa, Christine was kind of consciously aware of her own quirks and didn't want to subject HIM to them either. He also would look terrible with pointy ears, though he was cute the rest of him, and just...it wasn't conducive to the sort of leap right into ready-made love bliss win that she'd always imagined. Wedded bliss with McCoy? No, she knew how he felt about that whole thing, and she couldn't say she blamed him, because that was a big ol crap basket that he went through.
Sex? That wasn't too complicated, just complicating when YOU MORE OR LESS SCREWED YOUR PRETTY MUCH BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.
She did, however, stop with the cry face into her pillow and dared to peek at him, pulling the blanket aside with one fingertip so she could maybe covertly see him. The shame was clear on his face, and probably self-evident on her own.
"What's the other approach?" because she was fearing the worst, there. "If you say we don't talk anymore, I swear to god, Leo, I will take this here pillow and cram it right up your ass, sideways. And you don't want that, do you?"
At least she was sounding more nursey and less like Lifetime channel for Women tv movie, staring some washed up 80's sitcom star.
"Nah I meant the actually seeing if we'd work way." McCoy explained. "Which, now that I think on it, has the potential to go really wrong, but I'm hungover and we've just had sex and I'm all emotional so I'm bringing it up. We can burn the surveillance tape later, yes? Sure, sometimes friends did mutual favors for each other, but not like this.
A stingy little part of Christine wanted to bust in and get a copy of those surveillance tapes and refresh her memory. She's pushing that aside for right now, because she was no longer covering her head quite so much, and eyeing him with wide-eyed, formerly crying caution.
"Y'all mean that?" she said, not even bothering to try to cover up any Texas in that question, either. "I mean, no...no marriage. But...how wrong do you think it could go, because I'm feeling a lil' emotionally raw myself, and...this is out of the norm for us."
This was also, like, something she wasn't about to go shouting from rooftops over, because...yeah, this was quite different. Quiet. Quiet about it was probably good. For them both.
"I mean it." McCoy said, "That I'd uh...be willing to try it if...well obviously there's some kinda spark here maybe and..." he shook his head. "Probably it's a dumb idea, I know, I know. Still I sorta have to wonder."
"Well now you've got me wondering too. I mean...Leo, you probably listened to be blubbering again like you always do, and you don't run away from it. Because you're a big ol' stubborn butt." Christine put his half of the blankets back over him, gently, like that would somehow make it all okay. Somehow. "I...you know, I might be willing to try it if there is, yeah, some sort of spark...maybe...even if it's a dumb idea, and could wreck things...but...uhh..."
Shame and fear sort of kept her from asking, 'what if it doesn't wreck anything at all?'
Instead, she sort of just...looked thinky and blinky, and tacked on, "Maybe we just need some food in us, and see how it goes from there."
There? Reasonable. It's what blue shirts have.
"Ya know, that's gotta be the best thing I can think of." McCoy nodded., "We'll splash some water on our faces, have some pancakes, see what makes sense after." Nodnod. "Great plan."
"Right, because otherwise, I was going to suggest we try things again while we're sober," Christine said, helpfully. "I think food first, and...you know what? Since we're adults, if it happens again or keeps going? It happens or keeps going. Let's not worry or stress over it. I need to make some changes at some point, or I'm going to keep screwing guys who mow lawns, say they'll call back, and then they never do."
So there. She did eye him though, and seemed to pause. "It's okay I guess since we saw each other close up and personal last night, to just waltz into the bathroom all buck ass nekkid. Isn't it."
"Oh yeah, definitely." McCoy agreed with that. "hell, we can probably go ahead and share the bathroom can't we? All the usual rules are off the table, right?" He doesn't know if he hopes they are or not.
She doesn't know either. She only shrugged, threw the blankets off them both, and sighed like that was somehow empowering.
"There. We're not takin' that back, either. The world can suck it."
Just keep taking deep breaths and it'll all be okay, Christine kept telling herself. Yep.
"The world can suck it." McCoy tried the thought on for size and smirked. "You know, it absolutely can,"
"Yep, it sure can. We've had a crap time with other people. I promise not to drop that marriage word, and you just keep being you, Leo. And I'm sure it'll be fine." Christine looked down at herself for a moment, then put a hand under each breast and sort of lifted one and then the other, with a small frown. "Does this one look bigger than the other? I mean I know one's naturally bigger anyway on all women but..."
It was right back to normal, for the most part, because it was like she was asking over pancakes anyway, if her butt had gotten bigger. Then she'd just keep right on eating them pancakes and go jog them off for eleventy billion miles, afterward.
That's right. That shame. It's still there, but there was no reason to not try and find some normalcy to balance it out.
"Hmm.." McCoy peered at them. "Look okay to me. Felt okay too. I mean, I would know. I'm a doctor." And yeah, definitely back to normal for the most part. Well, kind of. "You keep being you too." he added. "We'll figure this out."
Christine smiled, like she liked that. Both the assessment from the medical professional and the figuring it out.
"I think, while we figure it out, it's not something everyone needs to know. But speaking of things you should know about? I had some really weird dreams, Leo. You were in them."
She got up out of bed while she was talking, and tiptoe ran into the bathroom, splashing some water onto her face and brushing out her hair, so it wasn't quite such a mess. Needs. Moar. Hairspray.
"Have you?" McCoy was seriously surprised there, and it showed on his face. "Like...how exactly? I'm guessing not in the romantic context, huh?"
"Nope, you were a doctor on a ship, and Kirk was there. And he had balloon hands, and you had me prepare a shot for the allergic reaction. I mean, seriously bad allergic reaction. Something about fleas. Then we came out of some warp thing and were alerted about a debris field, so stuff was kind of falling everywhere during evasive maneuvers and it was really kinda weird," she explained, conversationally, while trying to wrangle her hair up into something presentable. "I'm not sure what happened after that. I woke up, so I don't know if we lived or not. Sorry, no romance. Maybe that happened later, in the medical storage area where the CMO was hiding all his liquor."
She turned her head and stuck her tongue out for a moment, right at him.
"Ships doctor, huh?" McCoy considered. "Like star wars ship or horatio hornblower ship?" he wondered., "And that doesn't surprise me about Jim. He'd do that even in dre...Oh that just sounds disturbing, shit." He went in to at least sort of clean up now.
She didn't appear to mind, as long as he didn't mind a haze of hairspray, because that was happening. There! That looked done enough. She brushed her teeth at lightspeed and shrugged at the ship thing, saying only after she was finished, "Star Wars ship, sort of. Yeah, like a Star Wars ship. You know that scene where Luke was getting his new robot hand at the end of Empire Strikes Back? All white and stuff? Okay, it was like that, but minus the robot."
"I think," she said, while throwing on some lip gloss and eyeliner, "that you must've snuck Kirk on board. Gist I got, was he wasn't supposed to be there."
Then she shrugged like GO FIG because she'd already taken a measure of Kirk, very calmly and quietly as soon as she got in the van. He was trouble. Even more so because, hi, one night stand where he bailed before dawn. Ugh.
"Me bending the rules for Kirk. He'd get me to do that." McCoy admitted, shaking his head fondly. "Wonder if this has to do with the thing's Scotty and Gaila have been hinting about."
"What were those two hinting about?" Christine blinked at him, questioningly, because she was kind of out of that loop, and mostly she'd tried not to notice them making out in the back of the van most of the entire way to Vegas. "Odd couple. It's sort of cute."
"Well, Scotty's apparently been coming up with ways to do things. Futurey things." McCoy explained. "And Gaila's just plain had disturbing ones from what I gather. Seems like they might all take place around the same time."
"Really? Poor girl, I didn't know that. And I guess if he's smart, that must be how he gets the ladies. She does seem a little bit out of his league, even if he is pretty cute. In a normal sort of way. No, he's not my type," Christine added, before she gave up her hold on half of the bathroom and let him do every boy thing he wanted to do in there. Fart or whatever. Go for it! She went to get dressed and immediately missed her bra, so she had to go with the backup. Boo. Boring old white lacey thing. "So you think maybe it's the same thing with me, too?"
She wondered if he had any strange dreams too, and it was all over the valar net, but she had treated it like a curiosity, and nothing serious.
Oh well. Breakfast? Probably a good idea, because Christine's tummy growled viciously, in a FEED ME SEYMOUR sort of way.