Star Trek One-Shots

McCoy: Annual Checkup

Well, let's start out not with the Captain but with our well-loved doctor who is not an elevator, brick-layer, magician, pilot...you get the point.

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It was that time. Again.

"Y/N!!!" Bones yelled down the hallway. You groaned, standing up and walking out of your quarters reluctantly. The other ensigns watched, humored by Bone's urgency.

"Well, get a move on! Don't shuffle your feet; move!" he said, ushering you with his hands. You sighed, picking your feet up and moving a tiny bit faster.

He almost pushed you inside and laid you on the bed, pulling a scanner from his pocket and hovering it over you, looking constantly at the screen above you.

"Healthy as normal, Y/N. Well, uh..." he trailed off. You were unsure what to say, so you got up and began to walk out when a hand grabbed your arm. You turned, looking at Bone's face.

"Look. Uh, well, Y/N...I, uh, wanted to, uh, tell you something," he said, leaning on the desk beside him. A small blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Yes, Doctor?" you asked. He looked at the floor, trying to think of what to say next.

Ever since you had joined Starfleet and had been assigned to the Enterprise, Doctor Leonard McCoy was the only one usually on your mind. You just loved the way he would grumble about little things and how he was so delicate when it came to his work. It made you, well, happy inside. Plus, he was just really cute!

"I want to tell you that, uh, well..." he began, a blush forming on his cheeks. Then his communicator buzzed.

"Doctor McCoy, to the bridge. Doctor McCoy, to the bridge."

"Dammit Jim," he muttered. "Look, I'll see you around, okay? I'll tell you then."

He walked out, a sigh escaping his lips. You sighed too, grabbing his equipment and putting away for him. The thought of what he wanted to tell you lingered in your mind. As you shut the last cabinet door, you walked out, smiling as you saw McCoy grumble again about Kirk.

>>>>Time skip brought to you by Scotty's alcohol<<<<

You clutched your chest, coughing. Somehow you had gotten sick within the week (maybe it was that flower that sprayed that juice in your face) and had to go to McCoy.

You walked over to his office, legs wobbling. When you entered, your legs just gave out and you collapsed. Bones ran over, running a scanner over your limp body.

"Dammit, Y/N," he said, scooping you up. "I told you but you didn't listen."

You tried to speak, to ask him what he wanted to tell you last time, but you couldn't move. He laid you down on a medical bed and the screen above your head came to life. Your heart rate had elevated and breathing was shallow. He muttered some curse words and pulled out a hypo.

"Look, Y/N," he said as he injected it. "I just wanted to say that you're pretty damn special to me. You're pretty special to anyone. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He smiled and quickly kissed your cheek.

You smiled and shut your eyes as the hypo put you to sleep. This may have been your best trip to the doctor ever.