Everyone reacts differently to anesthesia – that's part of what makes emergency surgery so complicated. There are correlations, of course, with body mass, metabolism, etc, and with the computers the best drug and dose for each patient can be calculated.

It is perfectly safe, as McCoy assures every first time patient about to go under.(The first time he operated on Spock, the poor devil was in no shape to talk, but the second time he reeled off a series of statistics on that particular anesthetic's safety and tempted the CMO to up the dose just to shut him up.) What the computer cannot calculate is the reactions of each patient in coming out of sedation. Doctor- patient confidentiality ensures that the anecdotes will never leave sickbay, but it doesn't stop occasional bets being placed or personnel arranging to position themselves within earshot of certain patients.

Sulu, now, comes out in what is now called his D'Artagnan persona. After an incident which involved Dr McCoy getting a broken nose and Nurse Chapel getting her hand kissed, the good doctor has made restraints standard when the helmsman is…less than coherent for some reason, whether it is surgical sedation, mysterious virus or plain old concussion.

Ensign Chekov, from what a very amused Russian nurse could translate, usually ends up under the impression that he is the Tsar of Russia. Or that he is dating the Tsar's daughter. It varies. Occasionally he gives orders for Dr McCoy to be banished to Siberia, for the offense of "being mean to Mr Spock."

Riley, the one time he ended up in the post operative ward…sings. The-Song-That-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't sound any better when slurred beyond coherence. (The captain who had come to check on the casualties, practically bolted out of the sickbay when that started.). Nowadays McCoy has authorized post operative medication for Riley in the interests of the patient's safety and the Medical staff's sanity.

Scotty, in the normal run of things, seems to get particularly inspired when half conscious, and particularly insistent on discussing said inspirations. Like the time he held a long, slurred and complicated discourse on how he could improve the production of his illegal and officially non-existent still located on Deck Ten. With a visiting Admiral who was in for his regular check up. Fortunately, the admiral in question turned out to be vulnerable to Kirkian charm and a bribe of Romulan Ale.

Spock…gets very talkative. Luckily for him, he tends to lapse back to his native language, so mostly McCoy has no clue what he's talking about. By the time he's coherent enough to talk in Standard, he's coherent enough to know he shouldn't be talking at all. The few occasions when he was just high enough to get voluble and not out enough to forget his (better than they seem) language skills have given his hovering frenemy blackmail material worth a life time, but unfortunately for the doctor, the Hippocratic Oath gets in the way.

The Captain, now…

"Um, Bones?"

"What, Jim?" The doctor is grinning from ear to ear. It's only partly the euphoria of having pulled off one of the most complicated surgeries in his career (while the ship was under fire, no less). There is a particular unholy glee in the CMO's eyes that the convalescing Captain doesn't like.

"Just what was in that hypo?"

"Normal painkillers. Wasn't even supposed to put you out all the way, but when you've lost that much blood, through direct ignorance of medical advice, I may add-"

"Okay, okay. Leave the lecture for later, Bones. I've got enough of a headache already." He pauses nervously. "Er, I wasn't fully out all the time, was I?"

"You came round for a bit."

"Did I…say something?"

The grin had widened to Cheshire cat proportions. "What do you remember?"

Jim groaned.

"I…think I asked Spock out. For the Valentine's Day party."

McCoy's grin was now made more intolerable with the addition of a smug glint.

"Don't even say it!" Kirk orders before the doctor can put himself at the risk of being punched out by his still-a-bit-groggy captain. "I was hypoed half way to hyperspace, that does not mean what you think! And you are going to help me explain that to him!"

The doctor mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'In Hypo Veritas'.

"We. Are .Just. Friends. Get your damn mind out of the gutter and help me figure out how to explain this!"

"Well…"

"Well what?"

"You didn't ask Spock out."

"I didn't?" Bones isn't sure whether Jim sounds more relieved or disappointed.

"That damn hobgoblin left the sickbay (against medical advice, seeing a pattern here, Jimmy-boy?) the minute he was able to stand up without passing out. Said something about the ship couldn't have both the captain and the First Officer off the bridge "in the current volatile environment". If he ends up fainting on the Bridge, serves him right."

"So I was just talking to myself?"

"Nope, you just mistook someone else for him."

Jim sighs in relief that he hasn't ended up potentially frightening his shy First into transferring off the ship at the first chance, then realizes just who he was most likely to have mistaken for said First. The look of horror is enough to send McCoy into a hoot of unprofessional laughter.

"I asked Sarek out?"

"Well, you called him Spock, so I don't think he would have.."

"Just shoot me."

"Tempting, but maybe later. If it's any consolation, I don't think he understood the reference. Vulcans of course don't have Valentine's Day."

"Bones, the guy is an ambassador, learning alien customs is his business! Plus, he's married to Lady Amanda, you think she never dragged him off for a Valentine's Date?"

The image of stoic Sarek sitting across from Amanda at a table covered with roses and candle light is enough to provoke another fit of mirth from the doctor.

"And anyway, Lady Amanda was here, she'd understand the reference, Good God…"

"Not the most dignified way to meet the parents, eh, Jim?"

The Captain chooses to respond non-verbally, by flinging his pillow at the CMO.

"Next time, just let me scream. No painkillers! Definitely not these painkillers!"

"Against Hippocratic Oath, Captain. I will, however, consider an isolation cubicle…"

The intrepid captain of the Enterprise slumps back into bed and prays to any deity who may be listening that the famous Vulcan regard for privacy would extend to not prying into existing or potential relationships of adult sons…

McCoy returns the pillow to it's proper position and walks out, still grinning. At the door, he turns back for a parting shot "By the way, Jim, Amanda looked like she approves…"

The pillow goes flying again.