I don't own Star Trek or the characters. I'm sure Daddy Gene would be horrified if he knew what I was letting his creations get up to (which means there will be sex and cursing. You have been warned).
Loads of love and thanks to my awesome (and awesomely talented) beta, miss steph (who said she likes reading my fics more than watching the movie!), and to the exceptionally talented women of Writers Anonymous: Doc, TFTSS, Kal, Nerdie, etc, and hopeful. I am truly blessed to have such an amazing support group!
This fic is a companion piece to Monogamy Rocks!
~*~Cattywampus by outtabreath~*~
Part One of Seven: Computer Trouble
"Chapel!" I hollered, glaring at the computer.
"You bellowed, Doctor?" she asked from the open door. She must've been passing by. She wouldn't move that quickly for something as unimportant as my needs.
"The damn computer is down again."
She smirked.
"What?" I demanded, wondering if it was worth the time it would take to report her for insubordination.
"That seems to be happening a lot lately, sir."
"I know," I growled. "Get a damn tech up here."
She very slowly crossed her arms in front of her chest and pressed her lips into a disdainful line.
"Please," I said, even though the word felt strange in my mouth.
I was definitely going to report her for insubordination. Just as soon as the hunk of metal that was supposed to make my life easier actually started doing its job.
Her lips reformed into the smirk. "I'll go do that right now, sir."
Ten minutes later, Chapel was back, her smirk rolling off her in waves. "The tech is here."
I didn't bother to look up from the 20th Century medical book I'd been half-heartedly studying while waiting. I knew who it was. I knew who it always was.
"Send Lieutenant Gaila in," I sighed, steeling myself.
I could get through this. I was an adult man with full control over my body and emotions.
"Aye, sir," Chapel said; it was obvious she was enjoying herself immensely.
"Hi Doc, having trouble again?" chirped a familiar voice.
I didn't need to look at her to know that she'd bounced in the door. It was what she did.
Chapel snickered; I tore my eyes away from the picture of a cancerous liver I'd been staring at to prepare myself for Gaila's arrival to give my head nurse a look that promised retribution.
She glanced at the tech, then at me and raised her eyebrows pointedly.
"Go clean something, Lieutenant Chapel," I snarled.
She smirked and shut the door.
"Can you please fix this damn thing once and for all?" I asked, girding my loins and looking at Gaila.
She tipped her head. "Sure thing, Doc," she said, her voice chipper, her smile huge. Her ponytail swung over her shoulder and I traced its curve with my eyes.
She stepped next to me and I could, oh God, I could smell her.
Obviously having to leave a whole fucking planet behind to get over a broken heart hadn't been enough to smarten me up. It seemed that I was now determined to lose the whole galaxy because of a bouncy girl.
"I'll do my best. Now, did you try to restart it?" she asked.
A bouncy girl who didn't seem to see me as much more than someone who was technologically dyslexic.
I glowered up at her; it was just easier that way. "Of course I tried to restart it. The damn thing won't restart – it won't do anything."
She patted my shoulder; her hand was extraordinarily warm. "Okay, Doc. I'll take care of it."
I slid away from the desk – away from the patting hand – and backed myself into a corner.
Yep, you sure have, Len.
"So, let's see what you did now," she said, lowering herself to the floor and crawling under the desk.
"I didn't do anything to it," I muttered, watching her, wishing desperately that I could look away. "The thing has a mind of its own."
"I know it seems that way, sir. But there's a very logical reason it stops working," she said, peering over her shoulder at me with eyes the color of the pond that had made my childhood Julys and Augusts bearable.
"What would that reason be?" I asked, breathing slowly and deeply, but trying not to look like I was.
She shrugged, which pulled her uniform skirt up a little higher. "It could be lots of things, all of them completely logical."
I directed my gaze at the carpet. "Can you just fix it? I need to update my patient files before we fly into another crisis."
Much like the one I was flying into at the moment.
"I'll be done in a second," she promised.
"Maybe I need a new computer," I prompted. "This is the eighth problem in the last two weeks. Maybe it just needs to be retired." I hazarded a glance at her.
"The computer is fine, Doc - it just needs a little TLC," she said, flipping onto her back, legs akimbo.
I forced my eyes to the ceiling; they were pissed at me.
"Thanks again for inviting me to play poker," she continued from the floor. "I do enjoy seeing Jim squirm as I take his money."
"So do I," I agreed. It was the highlight of my month – and not just because of Jim, though he was the reason I'd invited her in the first place; anything to remind him that he hadn't always been the big, important captain – it was just that she had ended up being a blast to be with: a crackerjack player, bright, funny, easy-going and a smartass in the bargain.
I glanced at her. She was back on her hands and knees in crawling and wiggling mode; the motion was hypnotic.
And sexy. She was incredibly sexy.
"Got it!" she shouted. The wiggling intensified as she backed out from under my desk and bounced to her feet – Gaila was very bouncy – and spun around.
I forced my eyes back to the carpet; they fought me hard.
"Come and try it, sir," she said invitingly.
I kept my ass in my chair and shuffled across the carpet, keeping my eyes focused on the kneehole of my desk – refusing to allow myself to remember that Gaila had been squirming under there mere seconds before.
"Turn it on," she prompted. "You know how to turn things on, dontcha sir?"
I gritted my teeth and ran my fingers over the array – the screen filled with light, then with the file I'd been working on before the computer had decided to die and bring temptation back through my door.
"Try pushing some buttons," she said, leaning over my shoulder.
"There aren't any buttons," I snapped, because she was very warm and very fragrant.
She giggled and her laughter brushed by my ear. "You know what I mean." She pointed with a single slim green finger to the rectangular-shaped interfaces that were used to input information.
I couldn't focus on anything but her warmth and her smell. Blindly, I mashed one of the buttons at random, then instantly regretted it. The data that had filled the screen disappeared.
"Uh oh," she perked, her breasts pushing into my shoulder as she leaned over to peer at the damage.
"Fix it!" I shouted, near hysteria on several fronts.
"I will. I can," she soothed. "Relax and let me take care of it."
"I thought you took care of it already."
"I did. You're the person that pushed the delete button; never, never push the delete button, Doctor McCoy. Bad things happen when you push that button." She used her hip to nudge my shoulder – which was much more pleasant than it should have been; I slid to the left. She bent over the interface, the curve of that same hip centimeters from my face.
I froze. If I just sat very still, I would be okay.
Probably.
Her delicate and skillful fingers slid over the interface without a single hesitation. Within seconds the file was back on the screen.
"Okay, try it again," she said. "And do not hit the delete button. Do you understand that?"
"Yes."
"What did I just say?"
"Lieutenant, I'm not an idiot."
Most of the time.
She sniffed, her eyebrows heading towards her forehead; I glared back at her.
"I'd feel a lot better if you repeat what I just said. You seem to have a lot of problems with computers."
"Just this one," I muttered.
"Because you push the delete button."
"Once, I pushed it once, one minute ago. I've never pushed it before today. I did not push it the other times the ridiculous thing decided to commit hari-kari. I'm not an idiot."
She sniffed again, but said, "No, of course you're not an idiot. Now try it again."
I blocked her out – which was more of a challenge than it should've been - and focused, skimming my fingers over several rectangles. The screen cheerfully informed me that the file had been updated.
"Good job, sir," she said from somewhere near my ear.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," I ground out. A man could only take so much.
"Now promise me you won't break the computer again."
"I didn't break it in the first place," I said sullenly.
She leaned even closer to me and the spicy sweet scent that I could never put a name to enveloped me. "I believe you," she said her voice low enough to be a whisper.
I blinked stupidly, the computer screen fading in and out of focus again. I really needed to have my eyes checked. My eyes and my sanity.
She straightened with a snap and a bounce. "Okay, Doc. Have a great day. And don't hit that button."
"I won't," I said, even though I wasn't one hundred percent sure what I'd just said I'd do. I turned to watch her leave, even though it was a mistake.
She moved to the door, every curve sliding in a maddening manner. The door slid open and she paused, half-turned and gave me a perky wave. "Remember what I said about that button."
I nodded.
"Call me if you need me."
Need, want....
Then she was gone.
I spun back to face my desk and glared at the computer. "This is your fault entirely," I snarled.
The computer merely hummed along, completely uncaring.
