Title: Another Day, Another Dollar, and a Daily Show?
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Comment!fic inspired by a picture at jim_and_bones and my own rambling about Karl's distracting hotness in an office environment. AU. Janice's new job shows promise - if only for the eyecandy.

"Oh, God, how did you talk me into coming this early? I'm paid by the clock, you know," complains the temp. She shoves aside a box of jelly donuts (three are already missing out of it, and there is a suspicious set of jelly fingerprints by the light switch), resolute to keep her figure and makes a cup of coffee. Janice knows how she was talked into it, of course; she is anxious to make a good impression since she's the newest member of the staff, even on a temp-to-hire basis.

Janice's friend of three days, a woman from the accounting department called Christine, holds open the lounge door for Janice as they head to their work area. Janice is the receptionist on duty.

Christine talks as she walks, "You'll want to see this. Trust me." At Janice's small desk, the other woman pulls a small mirror out of her purse and applies a fresh coat of lip balm to her mouth. "What time is it?"

Jan checks the little hands of her cheap crystal watch, but before she can reply a twitch of the white blinds of the large windowed suite across the wide room grabs her attention. Who works in there? Must be someone important—and someone who arrives much earlier than they do.

"Earth to Jan!"

"Oh, sorry. Twenty 'til 8."

"Mm," responds the blonde woman. "We have some time then. Here, try this."

Jan accepts the perfume bottle, gives it a token sniffle, before deciding it's better than anything she has with her. After a spritz around her wrists, the young woman then occupies herself by rifling through Christine's makeup bag. At ten 'til 8, another woman comes clicking down the hallway in the highest heels Jan has seen ever seen. She tries to remember who the beautiful woman is, already embarrassed that she might have to ask for a re-introduction.

Christine leans toward her ear and whispers, "Nyota Uhura. Executive Director of the firm's offshore accounts."

Janice—a temporary worker living pay check to pay check—valiantly shoves down her whimper at the sight of the woman's undoubtedly expensive and rare handbag. She and Christine share a look of longing. One day, maybe.

But who is she kidding? Janice will be well-settled only if she marries well, her mother tells her every Saturday that they talk on the phone.

Janice realizes that Christine has risen to peer around the corner of the cubicle. Janice looks too. "What time is it?" Christine asks her again, this time with a hint of excitement.

"C'mon, Christine. The suspense is killing me! What are we waiting for? To catch the donut thief?"

"Oh no, that's Scotty. He works on the second floor—such a sweetheart." Christine says all of this absently, eyes fixed on the double doors at the end of a long hallway.

Janice scoots her chair to the corner of her cubicle so she can have a good view while allowing Christine to act as a screen. Christine tugs Jan's wrist away from her body to check Jan's watch. The woman's lips silently shape numbers. Then the accountant grins and says gleefully, "Here we go!"

As if on perfect cue, one of the doors opens and a man in a smartly pressed pinstrip suit enters the hallway, stopping short to juggle his briefcase and Starbucks coffee with one hand while he checks his cellphone with the other. Repocketing the phone, he turns and Janice gets a perfect view of his face, not just his nice ass encased in tailored pants and his broad shoulders—which, yeah, had caused a little breathless noise of ooooh my god like she had regressed to her early teenage years.

Next to her, Christine is smirking and giving this handsome man a very thorough once-over. Janice, lacking that sort of confidence, gapes, speechless because it's possible her brain has short-circuited.

He has long, strong legs and sexy hair and, sweet Jesus, a full bottom lip and a little bow to his mouth that should be illegal.

Christine says, "I told you that you wouldn't regret an early morning." The man has reached the divider that begins the receptionist's desk. "Morning, Leonard," the woman says sweetly to him. "How was your vacation?"

He raises an eyebrow, and that shouldn't be so hot but it is. "Mornin'. It was fine, Christine." His eyes flick down to Jan, seated and suddenly self-conscious of the run in the back of her hose. "Hello there."

It's not until Christine nudges her that Jan replies, blushing, "Hello. I'm sorry, I don't know your name. I'm new here."

Mr. Gorgeous actually sets down his cup of coffee to shake her hand. "Leonard McCoy."

"Janice Rand."

"Janice is the new addition to our team, Mr. McCoy," says a silky feminine voice. It's Director Uhura, who had been standing to the side and whom Janice had failed to notice was present, so preoccupied with the impromptu runway show was she. She wonders if Uhura was waiting for Leonard McCoy's arrival as well; the sly, somewhat amused look in the lovely woman's eyes says oh yes, she definitely was.

Leonard nods to the three women, reclaims his coffee, and heads down a row of cubicles bordering the windowed suite. Janice turns in her chair to watch him, certain that she isn't going to get anything productive done today except for answering the phones in a vague daze.

Christine remarks in a low tone, "If he is near your desk and you drop something, he'll pick it up for you. The view's great."

Janice imagines that a lot of pens get dropped in this office.

When the man passes the door to the executive suite, the door flies open.

"Bones!"

McCoy stops, once again halted in his progress to his destination. Except this time, he is less gentlemanly about the delay. "So you're still here, kid."

Another man pokes his head out of the doorway, and that's all Janice really needs to see in order to choke on her own spit. Good God, there's two of them! Where Leonard is tall, dark, and handsome, this man is a golden Adonis. Christine, for some reason, just snorts, collects her purse from Jan's desk, and walks away while saying over her shoulder, "That's Jim Kirk."

Jim Kirk… of Kirk Enterprises? Oh, crap! What's the matter with her? Doesn't she even know her own boss's name?

Janice studiously whirls her chair around to face her desk, but she can't help peeking over her shoulder. McCoy hasn't ditched the grinning Kirk, probably because Kirk is blocking his path. Then again, she does a double take and a quick assessment of both men's body language.

Oh.

Damn.

Sighing, she logs off the main line from the overnight voicemail system and uncaps a new pen so that she can write down the names and phone numbers of the messages. Christine is cruel, Janice decides, to let her daydream of a fairy tale ending with a Prince that looks suspiciously like Leonard McCoy in a white doublet and a bit of overnight stubble; cruel for not mentioning that he's clearly taken by the head of the company.

She curses her temp agency, too. Of course they send her somewhere that teases her with god-like males in business suits. After all, gods are unattainable and Janice is but a mortal with a small savings account and a two-bedroom apartment.

The first call of the morning comes through. She picks up the phone, already reciting, "Kirk Enterprises—this is Janice…"

Jim Kirk saunters by her desk, headed to the lounge area. Her eyes track him, drawn like a moth to a flame. The man pauses, turns, and winks at her over his shoulder.

Hmm. Maybe this job has some potential to it after all.

-Fini