McCoy still thought about this incident even hours later, when he was trying to read some moron's thesis which topic was loosely related to his current research. The whole paper was a piece of crap, but the moron had some interesting ideas that he could use.
But the reading was progressing slowly. He couldn't forget Lee's smile, the smile that belonged only to him, damnit, given to some other man. He couldn't forget the spark in her eyes that disappeared when he didn't make the move she'd waited for and that he craved to make. All he could think of was her, again, and this was the reason why he was currently reading the same sentence for the fourth time and understanding absolutely no word there.
He heard the door's hiss and raised his head, half-curious, half-annoyed at the person who dared to enter his office without his permission.
Lee stood in the doorway, looking completely normal and smiling, damnit, she was smiling at him again.
"Hey," her voice was sweet and quite, "Whatcha reading?"
He blinked. Wasn't she supposed to be mad at him? Or maybe she had amnesia? Bipolar disorder? She was ignoring him entirely just a couple of hours ago.
"You shouldn't have left the bed," he said after a long pause, "you need rest."
She rolled her eyes and approached him. He was both afraid and hopeful that she'd repeat her morning move again, but she just hopped on the desk in front of him.
"I was resting the whole day. I'm bored now."
Jesus Christ, no, not again.
"You have a PADD, isn't it enough?"
"It is. But I was wondering what you are doing. So I came here," she smiled again.
How many emotions one single lips' movement could awake? If there was a record, he was definitely hitting it right now. But he had to be firm.
"You need to go to bed," he insisted, standing.
She didn't move, just tilted her head and looked at him with this light in her eyes that promised both hell and heaven for those who looked at that light for too long. Resist it, damnit.
He took her hand (normal temperature, her nails at their place again) and guided her out of the office to her bed. She obliged, obediently following him without a word. He gestured to the bed and she climbed into it without complaining. A mischievous spark blinked in her eyes. Oh, this wouldn't end well.
He came back to the office and stared at the reading, but the words had suddenly lost their meaning. He didn't have a chance to do it for long though, as the door hissed again, revealing the girl. She stepped in and hopped on the desk, all beautiful and innocent. Almost like an angel. But then again, Lucifer was an angel too.
McCoy raised to his feet and took her to bed once again. She didn't protest.
He ordered a privacy mode after returning to the office, which meant that no one would be able to enter it without his permission. Now she had to back off because he wouldn't let her in, no way. She did need her sleep, especially after all this singing disaster.
He sat there for a good ten minutes, waiting for her to ring, but there was no sound, no knocking, nothing.
So she gave up, good. He returned to his reading and gave it a hard glare. He forgot everything that was said in this part of the paper, which meant that he had to start it again.
"Fuck it," he cursed. He wouldn't waste any more time on this nonsense, there was much better stuff to study. And that stuff was in the main room, in Lee's favorite cupboard. He groaned and made for the door once again. If he wanted to work today, he had no choice but to exit the office, and only God knew what he'd find there.
The door opened, and he collided with Lee standing in his way. Her grin wasn't innocent this time, her eyes glimmered playfully, and he forgot what he'd intended to do. So he growled and dragged her to her bed, not bothering to be gentle this time, vaguely being aware of the duty nurse watching them. Of course, the nurse didn't dare to send the girl to rest - his whole staff tried to avoid Lee as much as possible.
"Stay," McCoy barked and left to take some PADDs from the cupboard. When he turned around, the girl was gone. He swore and stomped to his office, knowing exactly what he'd find there.
His red-headed nightmare sat on the desk and dangled her feet light-heartedly. McCoy felt a strong desire to beat his head against a wall. He could send her back again and close the door, but he was pretty sure that in this case, she'd stand in front of his office the whole night. So he didn't have a choice.
He strode past her and fell in his chair. She grinned at him victoriously.
"So," she said, "what are you reading?"
"You're unbearable, do you know that?" he glared at her.
"Yes, I am aware of that. So, is it classified? The things you read."
So she wanted to talk. Who was he to deny her what she wants?
"Just some stuff about neurological disorders in different species," he answered, feeling hopeless and slightly angry at the fact that she won once again, "Some moron thinks humans and Bajorans have similar neuronal connections and therefore can be treated in a similar way."
"And you are reading this crap?" she stared at him in disbelief, "This is bullshit, everyone knows that Bajorans evolved differently and that their brains use different neurotransmitters to pass the signals."
It was his turn to gawk.
"And you know this how?"
She smirked.
"Do I not look like a person who can know such things?"
"This information is rather specialized."
She shrugged.
"So what? I read things when I'm bored. Sometimes these things are about xenobiology."
McCoy shook his head, removing an obviously stupid look from his face.
"So why read this?" she asked again.
"Well, the idiot has some promising ideas," he replied, "And they are related to my own research."
"And what are you working on?"
He told her his thesis and she raised an eyebrow.
"There's a hell of a lot of work to do to prove it. Are you sure you're right about this?"
"Yes, Lee, I'm sure. I just need to carry some field studies that should be designed first. And this," he nodded at the paper about Bajorans, "had some nice suggestions about how to do it."
She tilted her head, thinking. Then she jumped off the desk and came closer.
"Move," she ordered, poking his leg with her knee.
"What?" he gaped at her not for the first time this night.
"I want to read it and see what this design looks like. Don't worry, I'll catch up fast and we continue reading together."
So she wanted to sit in his chair, emitting her warmth and touching his body. He wasn't sure he could handle this, let alone the fact that it was highly unprofessional.
"There are other chairs, girl," he remarked, already accepting the fact that this battle was also lost.
She grinned in response, her innocence long gone.
"And I want to sit here, with you."
He let out an exasperated sigh and made room for her. She fit the space between the chair arm and his body just fine, took the PADD from him and skipped the paper to the beginning.
He didn't even fully manage to fight back the fire she ignited in him with her body, as she was done with the first page. It took her about thirty seconds, maybe less, and she turned to the second page, scanning through it with the same speed. So she had speed-reading skills. An interesting ability of a woman who drank her whiskey straight and kissed strangers without a second thought.
"Hey, hey, slow down there," he stopped her when she reached the page he was studying, "I haven't read this yet."
She glanced at the page and leaned on his shoulder.
"Skip on when you're done," she murmured.
How was he supposed to study a serious academic paper when that warm, beautiful, tempting woman was pressing against him? He ordered himself to concentrate and was more or less successful. Surprisingly, it was much easier to focus when she was here, with him, acting like she always did.
So they read that nonsense together. He finished the last sentence and glanced down at her.
"So, what do you think?"
"This experiment's design is completely idiotic," she stated, backing away a little, so she could look at him, "The whole structure is crap. And you want to base your work on this?"
He kind of reached the same conclusion, but the girl seemed too confident to just agree with her.
"You are pretty sure about that," he observed.
"Of course I am. The one who modeled this was frequently dropped on the floor in their childhood. Probability theory and Mathematical statistics are totally screwed up. This index and this constant won't work here, but they base all their calculations on it. I'm neither medic nor xenobiologist, and I don't know what exactly the results mean, but it nonetheless can't be considered reliable because the interpolation is all wrong. So this is just a shitty combination of words and figures, not a thesis."
She shook her head, ignoring his dumbfounded expression.
"Give me that," she snatched the PADD from him, opened a new document and started typing equations, "Let's have some fun, shall we?"
His eyes had to be too wide because she laughed when she saw his stare.
"Come on, I want to design this thing properly."
And design she did, asking him questions about the essence of the experiment now and then. He told her what she'd needed, and twenty minutes later had a fully designed model that he could definitely use. He didn't have Jim's, Spock's or Chekov's understanding of the higher mathematics, but thanks to his best friend he could see that the girl's model was better, and more importantly, correct, as she commented every step, backing it up with necessary theorems.
If he was ever going to implement this model to his research he would have to put her name on the list of the paper's authors.
"Good job," McCoy finally praised.
"Thanks," she beamed at him.
"We need to co-publish this," he added and her smile faded.
"No, we don't. Why?"
"Because what you just did is a significant part of the whole research. If I want to use it, I need to mention you among the authors."
"Nah, you don't," she replied, regaining her nonchalance again, "We did it together, and if I wasn't there, you'd do it yourself. So just use it, I don't mind"
"I can't, girl. It's your design."
"Sure you can."
"Lee..." he started, but she interrupted him.
"Do you speak Klingon?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"No. Why do you ask?"
She regarded him carefully.
"There is an article in Klingon," she said, measuring every word, "that will help you prove your point. But there is no translation, so you have to translate it yourself, or ask your comm officer to do it."
His jaw hit the floor. How, for christsake, she was so familiar with the topic?
"How do you know about this?" he weakly asked.
"I read things, I told you."
"And where did you find an article in Klingon?"
"Oh, they are in general access, you just need to know where to look."
McCoy still couldn't believe it. Who the hell was she?
"I don't think you'd be able to cite it, though," she continued, "but the article will give a general direction, so you probably wouldn't even need to do it."
McCoy imagined Uhura's face if he'd approach her with a request to translate some xenobiology article from Klingon to Standard. The picture was slightly terrifying.
"Thanks, but I guess the Federation has some folks who also have the information I need," he finally said.
She shrugged.
"As you wish," and yawned.
"Someone's tired?" he smiled, scolding himself inwardly for letting her up for so long.
"Yeah," she quietly replied, "You haven't finished yet, have you?"
"No, girl, I haven't."
She looked down and was silent for a while. Then she looked at him again.
"Let me stay here," she begged, "I feel safe with you. Please."
McCoy looked down at her in those shining, astonishingly green eyes and couldn't make himself refuse.
"Okay," he grumbled, submitting to her will again, "just do me a favor and sleep already."
She nodded and hid her face in his shoulder.
Dear God above, he wanted this woman, and not just in a purely physical way. She made him feel younger and stronger, and she made him believe in his capability of protecting her from anything that the world could throw at her.
He hesitated, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. She emitted a sound very akin to a moan and threw her hand around his torso, and he shuddered, holding back a gasp. She shifted a little and went absolutely still. So much like that night in the bar...
Okay, now he had to calm down a little and figure out how to put it all in his report for Jim.