[Chase has already noted that the guy is likely to deck him if he suggests that he could take lessons from the nurses (in retro medicine as well as computing). So he nods back, tilting his head toward the computers.]
[ In all honesty, McCoy adores the nurses. They know their shit, and he doesn't have too much of an ego to admit that they catch things that he doesn't. The problem is that he doesn't particularly want help, because help feels like pity and he got enough of that after his dad died and he got divorced.
At the same time, he kind of wants to punch Microsoft in the face. ]
You're going at it backwards. You know where you want to get, you've just got to figure out how to get there. It'll be worse when you get on to patients.
[Though Chase still thinks this is an improvement on some of the Victorian-era quacks who take up office space and try to pass themselves off as medics. Anyway, he pauses by the coffee machine.]
Figured out how one of these works yet? Vital part of the job.
[ Of course the damn button doesn't work. Why would the button work? He's attempting to put in the buttons as Chase leans in, but there's a pause-- and then he's grabbing the other man and kissing him. ]
[There's just time for Chase to yelp something incomprehensible and far too startled to admit to before he's pressing up against Bones - and against his mouth - and in the back of his mind wishing it was somehow okay for him to wear his wedding ring to work because, damnnit, there are nurses watching.]
[ The nurses are probably enjoying themselves, if they aren't having the same problem (or enjoying that problem, for that matter); the mistletoe isn't exactly an isolated incident. The back of his mind is pointing out (in a voice that sounds disturbingly like that of one James Tiberius Kirk) that this was a rather funny thing to do after saying it sounded like Chase was speaking in innuendos. ]
[The more they enjoy themselves the less likely they'll let the subject go later, although Chase doesn't apply the same logic to himself because that would involve deciding whether or not this is pleasant, and he's discovered, for the sake of his own sanity, that it's best not to dwell. It's a curse. The thing that has him curling a hand in Bones's collar and resting the other on his shoulder to compensate for the difference in height is all down to the mistletoe above.]
[ As far as he's concerned, that cursed mistletoe is the same reason he's sliding a hand into Chase's hair. Part of his brain is mentally taking note of the thickness, texture, length, and color -- but that's better than the part of his brain that wants to focus on whether or not it feels good under his fingers and whether or not he could pull him closer by it. Luckily, McCoy doesn't try. ]
[It's very lucky, because Chase thinks he's made enough awkward noises he'll have to try to forget later for one encounter. Bad enough that he's slightly breathless as he finally manages to pull away, eyes dizzy, unfocused blue. Just give him a second for the curse to really let go.]
[ There's a moment where he stands there, blinking slightly, mind trying to prod him into doing things like grabbing Chase and kissing him again. Then, however, the curse loses its grip and he swears. ]
[And Chase drops his gaze, clears his throat, and hits the button for straight black coffee with a little more force than is strictly necessary, snatching the small plastic cup it pours into from the machine and taking a burning, bitter swallow.]
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Want me to book an hour out for a skill session?
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At the same time, he kind of wants to punch Microsoft in the face. ]
Suppose so, yeah.
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And really, everyone wants to punch Microsoft in the face.]
I was going to say it has to be easier to regress than the reverse, and then I remembered how much fun it was using the net on a modem.
[He shrugs.]
You'll be 'right.
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It all feels so goddamn clunky.
[ There's a nod, though. Damn right he will be. He's too stubborn to accept anything less, at least when it comes to medicine. ]
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[Though Chase still thinks this is an improvement on some of the Victorian-era quacks who take up office space and try to pass themselves off as medics. Anyway, he pauses by the coffee machine.]
Figured out how one of these works yet? Vital part of the job.
[and yes, Chase doesn't have any change on him.]
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[ So dry. Just trying to deflect any difficulties he might be having. ]
The coffee machine? Yeah. First thing I did, actually. [ Because god help anyone trying to deal with Leonard McCoy before he has coffee in him. ]
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[Just as dead-pan.
Bones you are bad at taking hints. Chase glances up, sidelong.]
In the past, we also accepted undrinkable vending machine engine oil as payment for impromptu computer classes.
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[ That's because he has a history of ending up with the bar bill. ]
Forget your wallet? [ He's already going to buy the coffee, though. Least he can do, right? ]
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[There's something wryly amused in Chase's voice at both that obtuse statement and Bones' half-hearted complaint.]
Left it in my other scrubs. Black, three sugars, but that button doesn't work, you have to add them individually—
[He leans in to point out the defective button while, above, it looks like the hospital is decorating itself for the holidays.]
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[ Of course the damn button doesn't work. Why would the button work? He's attempting to put in the buttons as Chase leans in, but there's a pause-- and then he's grabbing the other man and kissing him. ]
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Goddamn mistletoe--
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Don't worry about it.
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Right.
[ And a glare at the mistletoe, for good measure. ]