and hyposprays

medithos  asked:

leaves a cup of coffee fresh off the replicator at her station.

❝  now,  nurse hodgekiss,  if i have to tell you one more time i’ll have to sign you up for retraining, are we understood ??   now, i don’t care what he says, the ensign   w i l l   be receiving a hypospray, whether or  NOT  i have dr. mccoy physically restrain him to do so.  now go.  ❞   

SHE’S BUSY.  she’s always busy,  &  always thankful for that.  idle hands are the devil’s handiwork —- one of dr. mccoy’s southern adages she’d adopted herself, really. she’s hardly looked up from her  PADD  &  her shift’s only just begun. not to mention the troupe of trainee nurses they’d picked up at the rigel iv starfleet base that were undoubtedly going to prove to be competent —- or she’d make them so.  oh !!   &  there was a new vaccination to deploy later on today, they were starting alphabetically  &  —-

coffee. christine’s eyes fall on the steaming mug as if the mona lisa itself appeared on the starship, lips curling upward in a smile. SHE KNOWS EXACTLY WHO DID THIS —- their eyes lock for a moment, long enough for her to mouth a  “thank you”  across medbay before she takes a sip, interrupted by the very same hodgekiss.  jesus.

Not the Flu - Spock and McCoy

@leonard-bones-mccoy continued from HERE

“Five CC of Iliax compound, Nurse Collins.”

As Dr. Leonard McCoy continued slowly drawing his bio-scanner up and down, left and right, his assistant prepared the hypospray and pressed the injector, causing his patient to wince.  “Bloody hell, Doctor!  That hurt!!!”

“Damn right it did, and it’s supposed to!” McCoy checked his scanner for the results.  “Lucky for you, that’s the only treatment you’ll need; your symptoms should clear up in the next two hours.  The next time you see something colorful hanging from a vine, ask before you eat.”

“Thank you,” the patient said begrudgingly as he hopped from the bio-bed.

“You’re welcome,” McCoy replied almost as begrudgingly as his eyes followed the ensign’s path out of the Med Bay.  They widened with surprise as Spock walked inside, past the exiting ensign.  Bones could immediately tell Spock was unwell.  His face was pale, and his skin looked somewhat clammy.

“Spock, if you don’t mind my saying so, you look like two-day-old Hell,” McCoy proclaimed.

Spock paused as a young red shirted ensign scuttled past him. He did not recognize him, but he did acknowledge the nod of greeting as they passed each other in lieu of a salute of any kind as Starfleet had done away with those years before.

He met McCoy’s gaze, listened to him and moved to stand beside a biobed. “I see your skills of diagnosis have been heightened since the last time I was in this room as a patient. Would you like me on the bed while you examine me, or may I stand?”

He hoped he’d be able to stand for the poking and prodding, but if he was being honest with himself, he’d admit that he was none-too-steady on his feet. “I have not felt like this since I was a child before the geneticists found a way to make my hybrid DNA stop trying to kill me.”