Title: Joanna vs. The Enterprise
A/N: Written for McCoy-a-thon, Prompt by jadecanary :
I'd love to see a take-your-daughter-to-work scenario where young Joanna McCoy comes to stay with Bones on the Enterprise for a week. Obviously SHENANIGANS occur, because at least some of that attitude must be passed down. Bonus points for Joanna having a crush on another crew member.
McCoy grumbles slightly, his brows furrowing over his closed eyes as he shifts away from the thin finger prodding him in the ribs. He swats at it absently with a sleepy hand and rolls over to face away from the light. He hears a soft sigh before a hand grabs his shoulder and shakes him gently.
“Doctor McCoy, get up.” McCoy feels himself starting to swim slowly to consciousness as he registers that it’s Chapel talking to him. He feels the bed dip slightly behind him, and suddenly there’s a small weight draped over the top half of his body. Then annoyingly, he feels small fingers poking at his chin.
“Daddy, stop sleeping. Christine needs to talk to you.” Joanna’s voice is scratchy from sleep, and he can hear her yawn as she slides slowly over his side to where he’s facing. “Mr. Jim told her to come in, I heard his voice. You were snoring too loud; I had to open the door.” He can practically hear the pout in her voice, and cracks open an eye to find his nine year old in a puddle on the bed beside him, her hair in a rather adorable mess. She grins over at him and he rolls over onto his back, trying to glare at Chapel even with Joanna’s legs sprawled across him from her strange position.
“Chapel,” His voice sounds growly and low to his own ears, and Christine’s lip twitches into what could be a smile before settling back into a straight line. His Nurse heads over to his closet without even bothering to ask permission and starts fishing around for his uniform, making McCoy worry. Chapel never passes up an opportunity to mock him. “What the heck are you doing, woman, it’s 2300. I’m on break.”
“Leonard –” She pauses for a minute as her voice hitches, and McCoy sits up, ignoring Joanna’s sleepy protest as her human pillow has moved. Chapel takes a breath and continues, tossing his pants and shirt at him as he slides out of bed, placing the blanket over Joanna who has gone back to sleep in that magical way that kids seem to possess. Chapel goes to adjust the blanket while McCoy hurriedly pulls on his uniform. “It’s bad. A colony was attacked and we responded to the distress signal – we’re stationed in the capital.”
“Aw hell,” McCoy huffs as he yanks his shirt over his head, a small part of him pleased that even in the dire situation Chapel stares at his chest for a bit longer than a curious glance, and shoots her a grin as she blushes furiously. “Well darlin’ I guess we better get going.”
“I’ll wait outside,” Chapel says as she smoothes an errant lock of hair behind Joanna’s ear. McCoy sits on the bed to put on his shoes, and kisses his daughter’s forehead to wake her up a bit. Chapel shoots him a look he can’t decipher before making her way out the door as Joanna opens her blue eyes with another of those damn cute yawns.
“Hi honey,” McCoy keeps his voice soft as he fiddles with a panel on the side of the bed to turn the lights back down to sleeping levels. He fastens his jacket as he talks, trying not to keep Chapel and the medical teams waiting too long. “I’ve got to go for a while.”
“Ok,” Joanna says sleepily and pats his hand with her own small one. “Will you be back for breakfast?”
“I’m not sure,” McCoy brings his hand up to rub at the stubble growing on his jaw. He won’t have time to shave before going down to the planet, so he hopes he doesn’t look like a walking sasquatch. Chances are he’ll be in a surgical gown most of the time, but still he doesn’t want to give Spock a reason to bust him for any breaches in regulation. He smiles down at Joanna who is clearly struggling to stay awake. “How about I get the kid- I mean, Mr. Chekhov to come get you if I’m not back. Would that be ok?”
“Mhm,” Joanna mumbles, already halfway asleep. McCoy stands up and kisses her on the forehead, wondering how miserable the next few hours will be on little sleep and in a war zone. He’d much rather be eating fruit loops with his nine year old and arguing about pet tribbles. He gets up and walks to the door, keying it to lock once he leaves.
“I love you.”
McCoy swallows a lump in his throat, not knowing how badly he had needed to hear that from his daughter until she actually said it.
“Love you too, sweetheart.”