Sometimes his mind goes places it shouldn't go.
He's watching the communications officer work and he's amazed at the speed and accuracy at which her fingers fly because they rival the the precision and delicacy of a surgeon's touch. He swallows as his mind wanders into very dangerous, very sensual areas of subspace but he can't help it; no one can doubt her beauty, not even half-dead, tired old divorced men born centuries too late. For a moment his eyes flicker to her stoic boyfriend watching the Captain negotiate dilithium rights with yet another trigger happy space pirate.
His breath catches momentarily - will the Vulcan stir...? No, no. The boyfriend does not stir, does not blink or turn an eye. Maybe the rumors of their distance is simply idle gossip but maybe its God's truth, so he lets his mind escape to new possibilities, to that place it should not wander. Especially not here, not now. Despite the bridge being tense as a wire pulled taut (taut as the ponytail she wears with an Amazon's strength) his eyes subtly jump in tandem with her feather-light touches across her communication's board. He wonders, absently, how those delicate fingers would feel, dancing across his naked spine as she squirms beneath him--
"Bones, I want you there, too."
The doctor jumps. "Yeah, Jim. Captain." He feels heat in his face but the senior bridge crew is dutifully following their Captain to his ready room, to discuss the next steps.
He clears his throat and summons his reserves to appear normal to the naked eye.
But his mind still...wanders. And as she leaves her post, perhaps the shy, quiet look she shoots him means nothing. Perhaps she didn't mean to brush her fingers across his arm in passing. Perhaps she didn't stiffen as she caught the Vulcan's eye.
His mind wanders. Is left wondering.
But he hopes, perhaps, not for long.