A warm Georgia breeze swept across the wide front porch and the hammock responded with a soft sensual sway. Leonard McCoy opened one lazy eye to locate the fresh mint julep he'd heard the woman place on the white wicker table at his side. He was certain that he'd died and gone to heaven.
"Thank ya darlin'" he said, raising the glass in a deferential toast to dark haired beauty standing at the porch rail.
"Fiddle dee dee Leonard," she said, her blue eyes sparkling and a petulant pout on her pretty lips. "I do declare, you were out all night carousing with those dreadful Yankee boys and now you're just sleeping away the whole day."
"Now, now, sweetheart," He attempted to sit up, but the nausea the change of posture generated persuaded him to remain horizontal for a bit longer before he finally rose from the hammock. Moving to her he tenderly slipped a possessive arm around her slender waist. "What would you like to do this afternoon?"
Her blue eyes danced with that special delight when she knew she would be getting her way. "Well," she tapped her finger against her cherry red lips "there's a barbeque at Twelve Oaks, everyone will be there?"
"Well, Miss Scarlett, if everyone is going to be there then I guess we'd better be there as well."
Scarlett threw her arms around him and squealed with unabashed joy. He pulled her to him and moved his lips to hers in a long slow kiss.
Without warning, the porch shook to its foundation, as a powerful rumbling sound came upon them. McCoy's heart was pounding in his chest, and Scarlett's deep blue eyes telegraphed her terror. They held each other tightly for a moment and then the second wave, much stronger than the first engulfed them.
Clutching the frightened woman to him, he turned in the direction of the deafening sound
Snoring?
He sat up abruptly the bed sheets tangled around him.
"Damn it Jim," the doctor sighed as he hurled a bed pillow at the man sleeping his couch. Kirk opened his eyes momentarily, regarding McCoy as he defiantly stuffed the pillow under his head and pulled the blanket up over himself.
Lying back on the remaining pillow, the doctor attempted to piece together the events from the previous night's revelry. It had been quite a night, the old gang back together and the Romulan ale had been flowing freely, even that green earred hobgoblin had tied one on McCoy laughed with satisfaction. Things were fuzzier after the second round. He remembered Spock cold cocking Chekov, and for some reason they'd been talking about Christine Chapel. He shook his head trying to clear out the alcohol induced cobwebs from his memory.
"Chapel has the finest ass in Starfleet."
He was sure that he'd heard Jim Kirk say that to Spock, then Spock punched Chekov- but that didn't make any sense. He knew Jim had a thing for Chapel from as far back as the first mission, hell most of the crew would have made of move on her, him self included, but she'd only had eyes for that damn boneheaded Vulcan lug.
His attention was drawn to the blinking light from the comm unit on his desk. Gingerly rolling from his bed he realized that he was still wearing his clothing from the previous night. Padding over to the desk he dropped down into the chair and switched on the electronic communications device.
He smiled as Christine Chapel's face filled the screen, noting that the dark hair made her sapphire eyes appear even bluer. "What the…" he jerked up from the seat outraged as the message played. "She can't do that." he protested to the thin viewscreen. I'm the CMO she has no business…" his anger morphed into abject mortification as the gaps in his memories began to fill, and the picture forming was not a pretty one.
"That blasted Vulcan!" he said snapping off the viewscreen. It had all started innocently enough. Spock had been mooning over Christine like some lovesick teenager. But emotionally he is a teenager, the doctor in him corrected. The combination of Gol and then V'ger had left Spock emotionally open, but without the emotional development and maturity to deal with the constant barrage of feelings he was now experiencing.
They had recorded the comms as a goof, ok a drunken goof but a goof nonetheless. Somehow they'd ended up sending them to her unit in Sickbay. He shook his head in disgust and fought another wave of nausea.
"Get up!" he grumbled to Kirk, smacking him with the other bed pillow." We're in some deep shit, my friend and we need to figure a way to dig ourselves out."