Leonard McCoy

When Leonard wakes up on Christmas morning, three things occur to him. One: he's slightly (not completely; his guess would be that he did something to ward against it) hungover. Two: he's not in bed alone. Amelia's with him. And three: he can't remember how she got there. The woman he's been seeing for the past three months looks slightly less innocent in sleep this time around than she did when they were stuck on a planet and forced to share a bed, what with her hair tangled and the flush of alcohol still in her cheeks. What time is it anyway? He can't get up to look. That might wake her. That really leaves one choice. He needs to try and remember what happened last night.

Christmas is the one time a year when the crew of the Enterprise collectively lets their hair down (well, except maybe Spock). It doesn't matter if you observe the holiday or not. Posts are abandoned, ills are forgotten, and a celebration is held the night before. A celebration that generally includes a host of different alcohols, human and alien. As a medical professional, he knows the dangers of drinking too much, but it happens occasionally. Apparently last night was one of those times.

He remembers arriving at the celebration with Amelia and being keenly aware that they were being watched. Out in space, gossip is a currency, and nothing provokes it more than two crew members (or in some cases, more than that) pairing up. It's gotten better over the months, but it's still enough to make him uncomfortable. Amellia too, so it wasn't a surprise when he started with harder stuff than usual, and so did she. What was a little more surprising is that she could keep up with him.

He remembers realizing that he'd probably had more than he should, and she wasn't much better, then suggesting that they leave. They managed somehow to make it to the turbolift, and though it took a few tries, order the computer to take them to deck seven. Unfortunately, that's when the memory cuts off. So, what exactly happened? More importantly: did he sleep with her last night?

The mattress shifts and the woman in question murmurs something in her sleep. A glance down reveals that she's wearing a set of standard issue pajamas that are too big for her. That means, whatever happened, they at least had the presence of mind to change. Slowly, those blue eyes flutter open, and as she looks over at him, her forehead wrinkles.

"This… isn't my quarters."

"Afraid not." Is she in as bad a shape as he is? "How do you feel, Amelia?"

"Like I just spent a night out in college, and I did my best to prevent a hangover."

"That seems to be going around." With a groan, he sits up (look at that: he's completely dressed too) and powering on his PADD, checks the time. Seven hundred hours. That means they've got one more to sort all of this out. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Are you asking to test my memory or because yours is spotty?"

"Let's pretend it's because of mine." The corners of her lips twitch up at that, and it takes her a few seconds longer than usual to recover.

"Well, we went to the Christmas Eve party. It was uncomfortable, so I think we both tested our alcohol limits."

"I remember that much."

"We decided to leave, and on the way back, I almost fell over, so you suggested that it would be the smart thing to just spend the night together so we could keep an eye on each other."

"Sounds about right."

"We hydrated between drinks so there wasn't a lot to do other than get ready for bed. And then we went to sleep."
"That's it?" Her forehead wrinkles.

"What did you think happened?"

"That's the thing. I didn't know." One thing that's not clicking for him is that drunk people usually become more of what they are. Their inhibitions lower. If his inhibitions lowered and becoming more of himself means wanting Amelia more… then what the hell happened? The obvious answer is that she said no (even drunk, he knows what that word means), but from her story… he chances a look over at her. She's wearing a knowing expression.

"You thought we-"

"I thought we might have." She shakes her head.

"No. We were both too clumsy. Nothing happened that hasn't happened before on that sofa." With a sigh of relief, he leans back against the pillow.

"Thank God for that."

"I see." The mattress shifts again, this time as she slides down and stands. Wait, does she think he meant-

"Where are you going?"

"Our shifts start in fifty-five minutes. I need to shower and get changed. Then there's mess to consider. We both need to eat something." She leans down and grabs her discarded uniform. "I'll just step into the bathroom. Give you some privacy-"

"Amelia, stop."

"There really isn't a lot of time-"

"There is for this." He motions to the place next to him. "Will you sit down?" Hesitantly, she does as he says, the mattress dipping ever so slightly under her weight.

"I'm listening."

"I think there's been a communication breakdown."

"How so?" Trust her to make him spell it out.

"I want to sleep with you, and I mean that in the most literal sense of the words as well as the double entrendre." Her forehead wrinkles.

"Then why-"

"Because I want us both to be completely there for it." This should be… well, it should be special. "I have a feeling this is something I'll want to remember, and I've got huge blacked out spots from last night. So, I'm glad it didn't happen. Can you understand that?"

"More than understand. I just thought…" She looks away, trailing off.

"You thought what?" Reaching out, he brushes an escaped hair behind her ear. "Talk to me, Darling."

"I thought maybe you didn't want me. At least, not in that way." That has to be the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. But he can't say that. So how does he handle this?

"Amelia, I want you. In every way I can have you." As a coworker? She's excellent. As a friend? She's exceptional. As a partner? She's remarkable. And as a lover? That's to be determined, but he's willing to bet that will be yet another area where they're compatible.
"I want you too." Her cheeks color a little at that, but at least she's looking him in the eyes.

"That's good news." The bad news, however? He can't do a damn thing about it. They've both got work. Leaning forward, he brushes their lips together. Her hand comes to rest against his chest as she deepens the kiss. It's enough to make him forget all about his responsibilities. That is until he hears-

"Sickbay to Dr. McCoy." Reluctantly, he lets her go and, climbing out of bed, heads toward his desk.

"McCoy here. What's going on, Perez?"

"We've got a situation here, Doctor."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's hungover crewmen lined up around the block." How did he miss that?

"I'll be there in five minutes. Call Chapel and tell her to report for duty. McCoy out." He glances back towards Amelia. She's standing, heading towards the bathroom again, but this time her posture is more relaxed. He watches until the door slides shut and then goes to pull out a fresh uniform. Time for the day ahead.

Amelia Fairchild

Technically, Amelia isn't scheduled to work today. It's both a holiday and one of her usual days off, two reasons that the counselor's office should be closed. But she's keeping the doors open for an even more important reason. The holidays are hard for many people, bringing up trauma and feelings of depression or hopelessness more than any other time of year. Technically, she doesn't have to open up her office as a safe haven, but she wants to. So, she keeps the doors open, both literally and figuratively.

It's zero nine hundred hours when the first person wanders in. Looking lost, the ensign holds up a hand to knock.

"That's not necessary, Abrams. You can come in."

"Thank you, Counselor." The doors slide shut behind him and he takes the seat closest to her desk where she usually sits. Setting down her PADD, she looks over at the young man.

"How can I help you today?" He sighs.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing, or at least, nothing you can help me with."

"Maybe so, but I won't know unless you tell me."

"It's my girlfriend, Counselor. Ensign Straus." That rings a bell. Straus is a repeat patient, one who's seen Amelia every two weeks since discovering that she was pregnant and having a termination three months ago. "She's pulling away from me. Has been for a while. I think…" He hesitates. "… I think she's planning to end things."

"I see." Her conversations with Straus have revealed no plans to end things with her boyfriend, although she's feeling the distance as well, especially since she didn't feel comfortable telling him about the pregnancy or subsequent termination. That waves several red flags when it comes to the health of the relationship, but she can't say that to Abrams. It would violate Straus's privacy. "How do you feel about that possibility?" He smiles sadly.

"Pretty bad, I guess. I love her, and I don't want to lose her."

"Have you told her that?"

"No, but she knows. At least, I think she does." Sighing, Amelia asks him,

"Ensign, do you want my advice or my listening ear?"

"Your advice."

"Then I would suggest you tell her what you've told me. If a relationship is going to last, it requires honesty and trust." What does she know about Abrams that can make this easier for him to grasp? He's mentioned that he enjoys botany although his job is in security. "It's like a tree, Ensign. If a tree gets a fungus, it doesn't necessarily mean the tree will die. However, if the fungus is allowed to spread, it can be deadly. The same thing is true for a relationship, romantic or otherwise. Having an issue doesn't necessarily spell the end, but if you don't address it, it can poison what used to be good."

"So, you think we can work things out?"

"I don't know." His face falls at that. "I don't know that about any relationship, Ensign. What I do know from talking to you is that you'll regret it if you let things end this way." Still frowning, Abrams stands.

"Thanks. I think."

"You're welcome." He leaves, and she's on her own for another two and a half hours. That is, until she hears the distinct sound of someone humming 'Jinglebells' outside her once-again-open doors.

"Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh, hey!" Menendez stops in the doorway and waves to her. "Counselor, what are you doing here? Isn't it your day off?"

"It is. I'm just minding the shop." The smile on Menendez's face morphs into a frown.

"Did you and Dr. McCoy have a fight?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because he's in sickbay and he's not scheduled to work today either."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I looked up the ship's duty roster."

"The one that's supposed to be private?"

"What can I say? I like to know what's going on." Menendez rests her hands on the back of the chair farthest from her desk. "So, what are you fighting about?"

"We're not-" This isn't a conversation she needs to be having with a patient. "What can I help you with, Ensign?"

"Nothing. I was just on the way to sickbay to check on a couple of buddies. Engineering is almost empty, so many people turned up hungover. I'm surprised you're not one of them, although I guess Dr. McCoy fixed the two of you up." There it is again. The mention of her relationship.

"You seem to be making a lot of assumptions about Dr. McCoy and myself."

"Well, you have to. Everyone knows that you're together-" She frowns.

"Do they really?"

"You can't have a secret on a ship like the Enterprise. Anyway, you're so tight-lipped that people have to make something up. My guess is that you're fighting."

"I see. And why do you assume that?"

"Because it's fun. Then I can imagine the making up later." Despite herself, Amelia chuckles. "You should come with me to sickbay. Christmas is about being with the people you love, after all." Ignoring another huge assumption, she informs Menendez,

"Alright. I'll come with you." It is lunch time after all, and as much as he frets about her, he's just as likely to forget to eat if he gets busy. Menendez's face breaks into a grin and she practically skips out the door. Shutting off her PADD, Amelia follows. This Menendez is such a far cry from the one of ten months ago. Gone is the depressed young woman who forgot about basic hygiene and couldn't look you in the eye. Instead, there's… this.

Sickbay is still crowded when she steps outside her door, and she has to weave her way between officers who are all various levels of hungover. Christine offers her a wave as she steps into the ICU as she approaches.

"Merry Christmas, Amelia."

"Merry Christmas, Christine. Is he-"

"In the dispensary, making up another batch of these." Christine indicates the hypospray before turning to another Lieutenant Junior Grade. "Alright, Lieutenant. If you'll just extend your shoulder-" Amelia passes through the room, nearly stepping on several feet, finally finding the shelter of the dispensary. Sure enough, Leonard is putting the finishing touches on two more hyposprays. Her entrance provokes a smile and the setting down of the hyposprays on the table.

"I take it that it's time for a break."

"If I have to take one, so do you. Although I think your morning has been busier than mine has."

"Amelia, I've had upwards of thirty cases of alcohol poisoning. That's not to mention how many others are severely dehydrated or just plain hungover. This is the twenty-third century. By now everyone should know that the only way to prevent a hangover is either to not drink or to hydrate between drinks."

"One would think."

"These aren't a bunch of Starfleet cadets. They're officers who have all been here for at least six months. They should know better-" He stops short. "What is it?"

"What's what?"

"What's that smile on your face?" She didn't realize she was, but now that he's pointed it out…

"Nothing. You're just in your element."

"I'm not-"

"Face it, Leonard. You're never happier than when you've got a good crisis to manage."

"Oh, like you're so much better."

"At least I admit it." Glancing around to see if anyone's watching, he takes her hand.

"You really should've taken the day off, Darling."
"I'm working if you are." Giving their joined hands a squeeze, she tells him, "Take your own advice and give it a rest. They'll still be here when you get back."

"Let me just give these to Chapel and then we'll go." He starts towards the door and, careful to let go of his hand before anyone can see, she follows.

"Chapel, I'm heading up to mess." Leonard offers the hyposprays to Christine, who shakes her head.

"I'm on my way out too. Andres and Taylor are just getting in." Sure enough, the other nurses are arriving, chatting animatedly to each other. To her surprise, they both stop and, giggling, peck each other on the lips.

"Is that normal for them?" Leonard shakes his head.

"Not that I know of." Christine gives them both a look that one would think indicates that they're stupid. "Something the matter, Nurse?"

"No, nothing, Doctor." With a shrug, he approaches the two women and, exchanging a few words with them, hands off the hyposprays. Amelia thinks that Christine is going to wait for him to return but, shooting another odd look in her direction, the head nurse walks out the door. It only takes a few seconds for Leonard to return, and then they follow in Christine's direction, only for someone to yell, "Stop!" just as they reach the threshold.

"Menendez, what-" The ensign indicates somewhere over their heads, a smirk in place. Amelia tilts her head up, catching sight of-

"Mistletoe." How the hell did whoever it was get ahold of that out here? She looks over at Leonard, who's scowling.

"Alright. Who's responsible for this?" No one says anything, but she catches sight of Sulu whispering to Menendez. "Take this down. This is a sickbay, not the set of an old-Earth Christmas movie."

"You should really just kiss her, Doctor." The comment comes from Nyota, who previously had her head in her hands but seems to be making a remarkable recovery. A chorus of affirmatives issues throughout the sickbay, and Amelia can feel warmth traveling up her neck towards her face.

"This is absurd."

"I agree."

"You wouldn't want to dampen our holiday spirit, now would you, Counselor?" Menendez prods.

"It would be bad for morale." Sulu agrees, barely hiding a smirk of his own. Leonard turns towards the open door where Christine is standing on the other side.

"Nurse, you want to let us through?" Christine shakes her head.

"I agree with Mr. Sulu, Doctor. It's a holiday tradition and you wouldn't want to be responsible for its extinction." There's no getting out of this. Not without a fight. She might as well get it over with.

"You're all out of your minds. Counselor Fairchild-"

"Hold still, Dr. McCoy." Standing on tiptoes won't cut it. He's so much taller than her that she's going to have to bring him down to her level so, wrapping her arms around his neck, she stretches as far as she can and presses their lips together. There's really no other option but for him to return the gesture and place his hands on her waist to keep her from stumbling. It's a familiar position. Too familiar, in fact, because she forgets that she's doing this for the sake of getting them out of sickbay and only thinks to move away once the sounds of whistles and clapping reach her ears.

The tip of Leonard's nose is pink and she's sure she looks a tad flushed as well. He lets go of her waist and she settles back flat on her feet, removing her arms from around his neck. A look behind them reveals a grinning Christine, who at last has moved out of the way.

"Talk about being held hostage." Christine chuckles.

"It didn't look like you were too put out by it." He opens his mouth then snaps it shut again.

"You get one a year, Chapel. All of those bozos too, and you've collectively used yours up."

"Yes, Doctor." Christine walks on ahead of them. To Amelia's surprise, as she follows after the nurse, she feels fingers intertwining with hers. She looks back at Leonard, who just shrugs.

"If they've seen that, I don't think this will shock them." Shaking her head, she tells him,

"Merry Christmas, Ebenezer Scrooge."

Leonard McCoy

As Leonard stares up at the ceiling of his quarters, he can't help but smile to himself. A drowsy Amelia is curled up next to him, still tangled in bedsheets. He wasn't planning on the night ending this way, but he can't say that he's disappointed.

That stunt in sickbay was the jumping off point. He knows what Amelia's intentions were. She wanted to get them both out of there. However, it made it impossible to think for the rest of the afternoon. Every time he passed through the door to sickbay, he remembered soft lips pressed against his and even softer curves against his body. It was almost enough to have him asking, when she stopped by at the end of their shift, if she wanted to just skip mess and head directly back to his quarters. But he held back. What if, even after their conversation this morning, he was reading things wrong?

Dinner was a loud affair with so many people bolstered by the holidays (it probably didn't help that Scotty had sneaked a few bottles of the good stuff into engineering and quite literally everyone knew about it), and he barely got in a word with Amelia, but whenever he met her eyes, that flush rose back to her cheeks.

The turbolift ride back to deck seven was silent, but there was a hum of anticipation in the air. She stepped out first and practically sprinted towards their quarters, leaving him to follow. She hesitated a few feet from the doors, as if unsure of which way to go. He decided to alleviate the question.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Yes."

The door had barely closed behind them before someone, he's not sure who, bridged the gap and then she was in his arms like so many times before. He could feel her heart beating faster than normal as she kissed him. Of course, he responded eagerly, and before he could quite wrap his head around what was happening, she reached behind her and tugged at the zipper of her uniform.

"Is this okay?"

"I'm the one who's supposed to be asking that." For reasons unknown to him, his hands shook as he pushed the material from her shoulders. He hadn't bothered to dim the lights to match the time of day, and he was glad of it. She was breathtaking. There are few things worse than standing there practically naked while another person is fully dressed, so he removed his clothes as well, adding to the pile on the floor. "Anytime you want to stop-"

"I know. The same goes for you." Before he could inform her that that scenario was highly unlikely, she was in his arms again.

There was no rush to their movements as they retreated to the bed. There was no reason for any. They had all the time in the world. Her smaller body was covered by his when he thought of the obvious.

"Contraceptives-"

"Not a concern. I've taken care of it." That settled it. The last bit of hesitation was gone.

The act itself was more intimate than what he's experienced in a long time. There was more concern for each other's comfort, more focus on pleasure. He'd expected them to be compatible in bed based on everything outside of it, but 'compatible' wasn't the right word for it. In fact, he's fairly certain that there isn't a right word for it. There was some awkwardness. There always is the first time. But there was no denying it; they were more in tune with each other than he'd even hoped.

He's not sure how much time passed before both of them reached the edge; only that, like everything else, they aligned with each other. Afterwards, he just held her, breathing in the scent of her skin, that red hair fanned out over his chest. Eventually, they had to move, get cleaned up. When he settled back against the mattress, she curled up next to him, and he asked,

"How do you feel, Amelia?"

"Are you a counselor, by chance?" The words would've provoked a snicker at any other time, but all he could manage then was a smile. "I feel… content. What about you?"

"I feel completely satisfied."

"Completely satisfied is good." Neither of them said much for a while, and eventually he rolled over, which led to him being in the position he's in now. Staring at the ceiling, feeling more peaceful than he has in quite some time. Amelia shifts slightly, letting out a quiet noise, and that's when he realizes it. She's asleep. So, she's one of those then; the type to fall asleep after sex. He's not, and come to think of it, he needs to check on something. Slowly, he eases out of bed and, pulling on the discarded pajamas from last night, heads towards his computer. It'll only take him a minute. He'll be back before she wakes up.

Amelia Fairchild

Amelia's eyes open into the semi dark and the first thing she's aware of is that she's not in her quarters. No, she's in Leonard's. Specifically, in his bed. She has no idea how long she's been out (she's always had a tendency fall asleep out after sex), but however long it's been, she's now alone. Sitting up, she surveys the room. Not completely alone. He's sitting at his computer, a frown in place. Not bothering to redress, she slides out of bed and pads towards him. He doesn't look up at the sound of her footsteps. So, he's really preoccupied then. And she thinks she knows what with.

"She didn't send a message this year, did she?" Sighing, he turns around.

"No. She didn't. I thought maybe I'd missed it, but there's nothing."

"There's still time-"

"It's after midnight on Earth. If she was going to send a transmission today, she would've already done it." Reaching out, she rests a hand on his shoulder.

"Leonard, I'm sorry." He offers her a weary smile.

"This makes two months since I started sending written transmissions."

"I know." She could tell him that these things take time, urge him not to give up, but right now he doesn't need her to respond as a counselor. He needs her to respond as his partner. Unfortunately, as a partner, there's not much she can do except offer herself, whether that's her body or her mind. She begins running her fingers through his hair and his forehead comes to rest against the bottom of her ribcage.

"Are you alright?"

"Mm-hm." She nods, although he can't see it. "I'm fine. I'd ask if you are, but I think I know the answer."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only because I know you."

"You do." The seconds tick by in silence, and then- "I don't know what to do, Amelia."

"That depends on how important this is to you versus how great the emotional toll is."

"It's important. Probably one of the two most important things in my life right now."

"And what about the toll?"

"It's… manageable." He chuckles and lifts his head to look up at her. "I have a good counselor for a partner. She helps."

"I'm sure she doesn't mind." Leaning down, she places a kiss on his forehead. "Do you want to come back to bed, or do you need to stay up?"

"I'm right behind you." She nods and approaches the bed, pulling on the discarded pajama shirt from last night to cover herself before she climbs back onto the mattress. It's only a matter of minutes before he climbs in after her. "Can I hold you?"

"Yes." He slides closer, tucking her head beneath his chin as her back comes to rest against his chest.

"Will you stay?"

"I will." She can feel more than hear the sigh of relief at her words.

"Goodnight, Amelia."

"Goodnight, Leonard." Eventually, his breathing slows into a steady pattern that she assumes means he's asleep. She allows her fingers to trail over his arm where it's thrown over her waist. It's been a good three months, and tonight was just the natural evolution of things. Still, she feels more at ease than she ever has in the bed of a lover. She's not concerned about where she'll stand in the morning, because she knows it'll be next to him. It's soothing and utterly reassuring, but also sends a thrill through her. The sensation is different from any time before, but still familiar enough that she knows how to label it. As she drifts off, she thinks that maybe Menendez didn't assume too much about what she feels for Leonard after all.