A/N: First, an explanation – I've created this story, The Drabbles, as a sort of dumping ground for all the Star Trek one-shots that seem to been flowing out of me since I started writing this fandom about four weeks ago. I didn't want to post them all individually, as that would be messy and time consuming, so I thought I'd put them all here for the convenience of anyone who wants to read them. They vary greatly, though tend to star either Jim, McCoy or Pike, with the other crew making appearance here and there. I already have four stories to go in here, and I'm sure there'll be more :-)

More specifically, this story doesn't really make much sense, or have any relevance, it just popped into my head and was mildly amusing. It's basically about what McCoy does when Jim takes up their room with a date – but told from Pike's point of view. Do tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: General disclaimer for all the stories here – I do not own Star Trek nor do I make any money out of this, I just have fun writing stories at three in the morning ;-p

Captain Christopher Pike did not like the Medical Clinic on the Academy grounds. Well, to be fair he did not like any form of Medical Clinic; Bay or Hospital. A good friend, who was also CMO of the last ship he had Captained, had once said that he thought an aversion for medicine was a requirement for Command track personnel. It was true that Chris had never met a Captain, Commander, or Lieutenant that didn't try to avoid medical care like the plague. But that was getting off point.

Christopher Pike did not like being in the Medical Clinic on the Academy grounds, though at least today he was not the one in actual need of care. He had arrived a little while ago to conduct interviews with three cadets who had turned up in the Clinic sporting all the signs of a good bar fight. Chris had been called out of his bed at two in the morning after one of the cadets had admitted that the local authorities had been called. Starfleet could not afford to get a reputation with the Police and so Chris was here to sort it out. It was days – or nights more accurately – like this that he wished they would hurry up building his shiny new ship so he could get out of dealing with the petty grievances risen by cadets with more brawn then brain. But the wonderful Enterprise had another year or so before it would be space worthy and so here he was – hurrying back to his bed having knocked some sense back into the three young men down the corridor.

It was as he was walking through the admittance area, with its rows of beds and hospital green privacy curtains, that he was stopped in his tracks by a sight in the corner of his eye. Turning he confirmed what he had thought. Yes, that really was Cadet McCoy, or Doctor McCoy as he was inside this facility, asleep on a bed, the curtains pulled half the way around, but with a gap big enough for Chris to have seen him through. The younger man was not wearing a white coat that would signify that he was on call, in fact, he was in his red cadet uniform. Chris could clearly see the bright colour over the top of the hospital blanket McCoy had pulled up to his shoulders.

Chris sighed. He was tired, it was the middle of the night...but the cadets were his responsibility – even the ones who were fully qualified doctors and were more than old enough to be looking after themselves. He made his way over to the nurses station where a young blond nurse, (why was everyone getting younger every year, thought Chris), was scrolling through information on a PADD. She looked up and smiled as he approached, standing a little straighter in difference to his rank.

"Sir," she began, "What can I help you with?"

Chris gestured over his shoulder to the bed where McCoy slept, "Why is Cadet-I mean Doctor-McCoy asleep in that bed over there? Is he on call?"

The nurse peered over where he had indicated and then smiled at him, "No, he's not on call, sir, but he sleeps here pretty often, especially on the weekends." She didn't offer up any more information so Chris thanked her and decided to go straight to the source. He felt it was definitely his responsibility to find out why one of his cadets was not in his dorm room, especially if it was happening regularly.

He pulled back the curtain and stood beside the sleeping form of the Doctor. Deciding the direct method was always the best he raised his voice just enough to wake the man. "McCoy," A pause, "McCoy?"

Most cadets would have jumped off the bed and to attention, but Pike, who had been the one to sign up the then newly divorced and very drunk McCoy, didn't expect that from the grumpy Southern Doctor. As it was, McCoy rolled over to lye on his back, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes from the harsh lights, and peered blearily up at Chris.

"Sir?" he sounded slightly confused and very asleep.

"McCoy," Chris resisted the urge to speak slowly to ensure he was understood, "Why are you asleep in a Clinic bed?"

McCoy's answer was muffled by his arm, and he had closed his eyes again. "Jim's got a girl," was all he said, as if that explained everything.

"'Jim's got a girl'?" Sounded like the name of a bad romance movie. "I presume you're talking about Cadet Kirk?" Chris was aware that Kirk had made friends with the doctor – it made sense really, they were adults in a sea of fresh-faced cadets. One made an adult by age, the other by life experience.

McCoy didn't seem to be waking up more with time, "Yeah – Jim." It was even more mumbled then the last response.

Chris had a lot of patience, four years of dealing with Academy cadets and a lifetime dealing with idiots, both above and below him in the command change, would do that for you. Now he sighed lightly, prepared for a series of short answers, "And why does Kirk having a girl mean you have to sleep in the Clinic?"

"He's in the dorm room."

"And why are you not in your own dorm room?"

"He's in our room."

"Kirk and you weren't assigned as room mates." Chris knew this as those of Medical speciality were rarely assigned room mates out of their field, mostly due to the completely different training they went through, and the crazy hours they had to pull in the hospital.

McCoy's only response this time was a slightly humour filled, "Hmm," He looked like he was going to role back over.

Alarm bells went off in Chris' head – it was far too late in the night (or would that be early in the morning?) to be dealing with Kirk's genius laced form of trouble making. If he went digging, Chris was sure he'd find a well hidden hack in the room assignment computer, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to go and do that. What difference did it make any way? If there was one thing a Captain needed to know it was how to pick your battles. He would leave that one alone, he decided.

As he was deciding this, McCoy had opened his eyes once more, arm still resting against his head, and was giving Chris a look that told him a doctor would never be impressed by stripes on a shirt cuff. "If you don't mind, sir, I had three lectures today and a shift in Trauma – if there's nothing else I can help you with I'd really like to go back to sleep." With that he rolled onto his side, his back to the Captain, and Chris found himself soundly dismissed. He didn't bother commenting on it, just left the doctor to it as he made his way back to his own bed.