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Jim had frowned at Bones, when he’d shown up on the bridge only about twenty minutes after he himself and Spock had (“I thought you were told to take it easy and rest?” - “I am. This is where I go to take it easy and rest. I thought everyone did.”), but the friendly banter that had soon started and Spock’s Vulcan sass on full display had eventually washed away all the residing concern Jim might have harbored, leaving behind pure, utter relief.
And if he’d been staring at Bones until the good doctor shook his head at him with a tender smile (“Don’t make us crash, Captain, watch the screen.”) then what of it?
It wasn’t like they were much of a secret – according to Spock they hadn’t been BEFORE they’d become an official thing even – and Bones had almost died right in front of Jim’s eyes and so what if he still felt like his boyfriend might yet succumb to a horrible, agonizing death the second he took his eyes off of him? That was something to discuss with his psychologist later, who happened to be that very boyfriend, no matter how often he tried to explain to Jim that that wasn’t a thing; something about being biased or involved or turned on or whatever.
So maybe Jim was staring and thinking slightly less concerned thoughts by the time Bones excused himself for a second scan, as prescribed by M’Benga.
Magic Healing By Power of Thought had been a big hit down at sickbay upon Bones’ explanation for his shredded attire, to the point where it had suddenly occured to both doctors that the process should have been recorded for further study. It’d been when Bones had grumped at Spock for neglecting to do just that, that Jim had carefully tugged at Spock’s sleeve to get them out of there before the Vulcan could compromise himself with a rather violent display of emotions.
With the parting promise of discussing with Jim the possibility of having Bones court-martialed for his assaulting superior officers, Spock had turned and left sickbay, fuming about as much as was Vulcanly possible.
Jim had followed right after telling Bones to get that fucking grin off his face.
Obviously, no one was going to court-martial Bones, though how to word the report in a way that didn’t raise questions up high leading to just that, Jim wasn’t sure, yet. By all means, he should at least officially reprimand Bones. On his watch, no one got to sacrifice themselves but the Captain!
With Bones gone back to sickbay and M’Benga reporting no change in the patient’s overall good health an hour later, Jim focused on the tasks at hand: setting a new course, signing various things presented to him by a flirty yeoman and at last retreating to his ready room to record a log that left out the important things.
The official version now read that the Vians had chosen Dr McCoy for their very own, undisclosed, warped reasons and proceeded to torture him, leaving him on the verge of death by the time Jim, Spock and the empath had reached the laboratory. (Jim refrained from calling her Gem, as that surely would have resulted in yet another reprimanding note from SF command. As well as Bones’ “Better than ‘hey you!’” had been meant, it violated about every rule for new-species encounters out there and he knew it, too. At times, Jim wondered if Bones considered their collecting SF Command reprimands a contest and if so, who was in the lead.)
It was when he summarized the physical state they had found Bones in that Jim felt his stomach lurch slightly. With a deep breath, he stopped the log and flomped back in his chair behind his desk. Running a hand over his face, he breathed out, slow and steady and repeated the exercise a few times.
Bones was alive, everything was all right, they had made it out like they always did. Jim Kirk didn’t lose.
Sure, there’d be scars collected on the way, inward and out, there’d be nightmares to wake from and panic to suffer through, but in the end, Jim Kirk always won. He had known Bones wasn’t dead, yet, when he had woken up to find Spock still knocked out and Gem mutely staring at him, and he had most definitely known Bones WOULDN’T die when Spock had told him he was about to, and so maybe he just told himself these things after the fact, but what of it? It helped him fight another day. That was his job as Captain, as leader. If a little lie here and there helped him remain as strong as his crew needed him to be, surely that was allowed, nay – necessary. So he had KNOWN, he decided, that Bones would live.
He nodded to himself, letting his hands drop. One memory fixed, good. He hadn’t been scared absolutely shitless feeling Bones’ pulse weaken under his fingers, feeling the man he loved die while he was arguing over it with Spock (“You don’t know! You’re not a doctor!” as if Jim himself hadn’t known. You didn’t need to be a doctor to know coughing up blood and wheezing like that were symptoms of, well, dying.).
He hadn’t been, because he’d known all along that Bones would live. Somehow. Because miracles happened wherever Jim Kirk showed up, hadn’t you heard? And Jim Kirk’s boyfriend wasn’t fucking ALLOWED to die before him and so he wouldn’t. Easy as pie, as Bones would say. (Or pi, when he was trying to rile up Spock.)
Still, Jim found he wasn’t in the mood to go on recording how Bones had tried to stop Gem from saving him, how maybe, MAYBE Jim had been scared out of his mind all over again then and how … oddly furious he had been at the Vian healing Bones at last. How seeing that it involved pressing a button twice – a fucking BUTTON – had made Jim’s blood boil to the point where he was sure he needed to throttle one of them now, RIGHT NOW, or explode… but of course in the end he had just sat down next to Bones, who’d been slowly coming to again, apparently a-okay.
The three of them had watched the two Vians disappear with Gem, and Spock had scanned Bones about a million times and Bones had grumped and bitched and raised his voice, as if he’d been miffed at having been saved or something – but Jim hadn’t paid attention to any of it, staring at the dark space where the Vians had been.
A button.
All it had taken was to press a tiny button, and they couldn’t have been bothered to do that. They wouldn’t have lost anything when Jim would have lost everything and, yet, before he’d exploded in their faces...
Nope. Jim wasn’t thinking of that now. Clearing his throat, he stopped the log altogether and stood, curtly shaking his head as if to throw off the lingering fury.
“Kirk to bridge.”
“Sulu here, Captain.”
“I’ll retreat to my quarters, Mr Sulu.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Jim contemplated calling Spock. A friendly game of chess to relax sounded good. Maybe it’d help them both let off steam. Spock wasn’t the worst to talk Bones troubles with, actually. Jim had found the Vulcan surprisingly helpful quite a few times in the past when he’d needed relationship advice (sometimes without even knowing himself that that was what he needed) or just someone to bitch about Bones being impossible.
But Spock had been visibly shaken. The way he had all but clung to Bones’ arm when they’d made their way back to the surface to be beamed aboard had been almost unbearable to watch.
Bones must have felt it, too, the way he’d smiled reassuringly at Spock whenever the Vulcan’s gaze had met his. He had let Spock hold him all the way to sickbay and Bones hated being mollycoddled more than any of them, more than Spock, most likely. Yet, he’d let Spock help him sit down on the nearest biobed and had even let him help him out of the destroyed uniform shirt. He had been about to speak up at last, when Spock had mutely grabbed one of the septic wipes Chapel had put onto the bed, to help wipe off the blood, but even then in the end he had just let the Vulcan help, lying down his head and closing his eyes.
He had looked about ready to lose consciousness again, then, but the second M’Benga had appeared with his scans and all the questions about re-grown blood cells and organ tissue, he had snapped his eyes open. Waving Spock, Chapel and Jim away – “Stop fussing! I’m fine!” - he had sat up, all awake and ready for excited discussions medical ramblings.
Jim had seen Spock’s hands hover, not yet done with helping, not yet calmed down enough, but at last the Vulcan had folded them behind his back in their usual place and stood still, his glare growing scowlier and scowlier until the court-martial thing had popped up and Jim had quickly removed him from sickbay.
Maybe it’d be wisest to leave Spock be for now, let him meditate on how much he hated Bones for putting him through this or whatever it was he did when he got true and really spooked.
Maybe Jim would find him in the gym, too, destroying punching balls like he’d done a few weeks after their encounter with the ISS Enterprise. Jim had laughed at him, then, quipped about their needing to order “Vulcan-proof” gym equipment and teased Spock about what could have possibly riled him up like that and surely it had to have been Bones, right?
It’d taken Bones a few more days to come clean and reveal just how right Jim had been. The punching balls withstood HIS rage, of course, but barely.
It was only when he’d stepped out of the turbolift that Jim realized he’d left his ready room. As was so often the case, his body knew where he needed to be right now and it wasn’t at the gym or with Spock. He didn’t bother with the door chime and just entered Bones’ quarters, but froze when he stepped into complete darkness.
“Bones?”
Silence.
“Computer, lights at 60 percent.”
The bed was made, as untouched as the mess on Bones’ desk. A faint scent of coffee long gone cold hung in the air. Jim walked a bit further into the room, looking down when he stepped on discarded pajamas.
“Bones?”
Nothing.
“Computer, locate Dr McCoy.”
“Dr McCoy is in the Captain’s quarters,” the inexplicably female computer voice told him.
Jim frowned. “IN the Captain’s quarters?”
There was no response, since he hadn’t addressed the computer, but then of course it had just been a rhetorical question. He had given Bones his personal code a long time ago, even before they got romantically involved. As CMO, Bones would be able to enter any crewmember’s quarters in case of emergency, anyway, but after a particularly boozy night Jim had found it prudent to trust his best friend with his code just so they wouldn’t have to spend another night squeezed together in Bones’ bed.
Since then both their attitudes towards spending nights squeezed together anywhere had changed drastically, but still Bones had never used Jim’s code. He always called ahead or made otherwise sure Jim was there to open the door for him. He never just barged in and grabbed him, like Jim did; never popped up just to make Jim be late for work or gave him a heart attack lounging on his bed “like a friggin’ James Bond boy and how many times do I have to tell you no snacks in bed?!”
Apparently now was the first time Bones had chosen to use his privilege as the Captain’s Squeeze and show up in Jim’s quarters unannounced – and if he had, he had walked into an empty room.
Something about that image made Jim whirl around on his heel and all but run to his quarters, urging the turbolift to go faster, damnit, go fucking faster already the whole way, till he stood in front of his own door, weirdly nervous, oddly scared, and typed in the code with trembling fingers.
Buried under Jim’s blanket and quilted comforter on the bed, with only a tousled tuft of brown hair and a pale nose peeking out, Bones was so frighteningly still that Jim had to restrain himself from rushing forward to shake him. Instead, he gingerly sat down next to the curled up form and put two fingertips against Bones’ neck.
“Are you feeling my pulse?” came a raspy mumble from within the blanket cocoon, followed by a tired gaze.
“Vulcan kiss,” Jim said.
Bones shifted to make more room for Jim and frowned slightly. “That makes you either weird or a liar,” he said, craning his head a little. “Well, doctor?”
“Slow,” Jim said and withdrew his fingers to boop Bones’ nose, “but steady.”
“The way you like it, isn’t it?” Bones smirked.
Jim snorted. “Dirty old man.” Slipping off his boots, he quickly crawled under the covers, too, and wrapped his arms around Bones, pressing his nose against his neck right where his hand had been before.
“Jim,” Bones sighed, “I won’t die all of a sudden, you can cut it out.”
“’mnot doing anything,” Jim muttered. But counting your heartbeats, he didn’t have to add.
Another sigh. “Oh you. C’mere.” Bones nudged Jim’s forehead until he lifted his head for a kiss. “I’m okay. I promise.”
Their gazes locked, Bones’ warm hand gently stroking Jim’s cheek as they lay with their noses touching.
“You almost weren’t,” Jim said. “And you promised before. You always promise.”
“And I always live, don’t I? We both do.”
Something thick and cold stuck in Jim’s throat. He closed his eyes against the push of tears and slightly shook his head on the pillow.
“Darling,” Bones said. “It’s all right.” He gathered Jim close, pecked the top of his head. “I’m here.”
Jim shook his head; he didn’t even know why. Bones was right, they would always be all right, everything would always work out in their favor, Bones would always be there. Of course he would be.
Sniffing, Jim leaned away a little to kiss him again, deeper this time, with more purpose.
Bones seemed to understand. He always did, really.
They kissed for a while, Bones letting Jim take the lead, roll him onto his back and crawl on top, pinning him to the mattress. Jim’s hands found their way under Bones’ t-shirt, running up his ribs and down his side, under his briefs, when suddenly -
“What?” Instantly freezing, Jim let go of him and sat up, straddling his narrow waist.
“Nothing,” Bones said, but couldn’t quite keep the wince out of his voice. “What what? Don’t stop.”
Jim studied him for a second, frowning. “Are you in pain?”
“Pfft, no,” Bones huffed. He flinched as he moved slightly to shift Jim’s weight on him. “You’re just heavy. No dessert toni-”
“Len.”
Bones rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, so maybe a little. A tad. It’s just the bends, right? You had them after Gem healed you. No big deal.”
In a split second, Jim was completely off of him, kneeling on the bed. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought it’d ruin the mood,” Bones said dryly, one brow raised. “And, oh look, I was right.”
“So, what, it’s better to hide that you’re in pain while making out?” Jim asked angrily.
“Well, no, I was counting on your patented ways of making me forget I’m in pain,” Bones smiled, running one hand up Jim’s thigh.
Jim shifted out of reach and glared at him. “What a turn-on, babe. You say the sexiest things.”
Bones dropped his hand, shoulders slumping, as an exasperated sigh escaped him. “What’re you mad about now? It’s hard to keep track. You usually have no qualms about throwing me around after I’ve been on my feet for nineteen hours straight, so it can’t JUST be that I didn’t tell you I was a bit achy still-”
“A bit achy?” Jim snapped.
Bones blinked in surprise, but steeled his gaze. “Yeah, remember, the bends? Bit achy all over ‘n tired? Something curable by a good roll and a long nap? Which it looks I’m not getting, after all, cause you’d rather yell at me for some reason or other?”
He hadn’t moved, was still lying with his hand flat against Jim’s knee, looking up at him and doing his very best to keep scowling in that Bones way of summoning rage when being pressed, even when it took his last bit of strength.
Jim felt his expression soften before he could even miss the anger that was flowing out of him like a breath. He took Bones’ hand on his knee and squeezed gently. “Would that ‘good roll’ cure your pain or my worrying?” he asked, smiling.
Bones frowned almost violently, looking from his hand in Jim’s to his face. “Why, you still worryin’? I thought we were just gonna screw till we fall asleep.”
Jim didn’t say anything, but tilted his head slightly, watching him.
“You know, I’m the psychologist here.”
Jim nodded. “Hm-m, ‘n I’m asking you, aren’t I?”
It never ceased to amaze Jim just how protective he felt every time they got to this point, him breaking through Bones’ stubborn wall of furious bullshit. It always grabbed him with a ferocity he felt he couldn’t have expected; no matter how often it happened, it always came as a surprise. Like he wanted to hide Bones from the cold dark universe, wrap him in a blanket of comfort and happiness and if it meant giving up all of his own.
Maybe it was because right before the wall cracked, in that second of defeat, Bones looked his most vulnerable. To see it never failed to break Jim’s heart.
“I can’t stand you looking at me like that,” Bones said, eyes cast down. “I’m okay, really, I just… hurt.”
Jim grimaced in sympathy and gently cupped his cheek, running his thumb over the soft skin under his eye. “Yeah?”
Bones closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He didn’t say anything and after a moment Jim laid down again, curling around him, resting his forehead against the side of his head.
“I only want you to be okay,” he said at last, when the silence had gone for a while.
“I know,” Bones muttered.
“No,” Jim said and hugged him a bit closer, careful not to squeeze him too hard, “I don’t mean I want you to be okay just so I can move on. I want you to take what you need and know that… it’s okay. I’ll survive worrying for a few days, let me worry. But… let me help, too? Please?”
Bones cleared his throat, a tiny sound. Jim would have sworn he heard him blushing. He smiled fondly, nudging Bones’ temple with his nose.
“I did… come here.”
Jim nodded slightly. “I’m glad you did. But you don’t have to put out just cause you’re in my bed.”
“It’s not EXACTLY like that,” Bones snorted, “y’know, I kinda enjoy having sex with you, oh… about eighty percent of the time.”
“When I got my mouth too full to talk.”
“Mostly.”
“And maybe also when you’re not feeling like curling up and quietly dying?”
Bones cast him a weary look. “You a touch telepath, too, now?”
“Only with you,” Jim said and braced himself on his elbow to peck his nose. “Tell you what. How about you don’t have to tell me how you really feel and where it hurts and just how traumatized this whole shitshow has left you and I’ll just stay here till you fall asleep? We don’t have to do anything.” He leaned back a little to give Bones some space. “I can work on my report, if you’d rather sleep alone, but… tell me what you need and let me give you that. Okay? And if it’s just my bed, so be it. I don’t care. Just… please, Bones.”
Bones had rolled onto his side and curled up, as if trying to vanish under the covers again. Jim heard him swallow.
‘You’re killing me,’ Jim thought with a wry smile. ‘If anything can in this universe, it’s loving you this much and you being… so you.’
“Or,” he said out loud, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, “if you’re really set on this good roll cure…”
That earned him a tired snicker at least. Relieved, he reached out to ruffle Bones’ hair and finally found him looking at him.
“Nah ‘sfine, you’ve had a long day,” Bones said. “It’d only end up being of the twenty percent variety.”
“Probably,” Jim agreed, “though at least I’m sure I could make you groan a lot more than usually right now.”
“Scream, too,” Bones said with a sad huff, eyes closing again. “Let’s not.” His voice shook slightly when after a pause he said, “It… really hurts, Jim.”
Jim’s face fell. “Oh honey.” He watched Bones wince as he scooted closer and met him half way, hugging him to his chest and kissing his forehead.
“Not talking about it sounds good,” Bones said, lifting the blankets a little to cover Jim as well. “’n sleep sounds good and I’d like it if… if you stayed.” The last word was mumbled into Jim’s uniform, a brief shudder running through Bones’ frame as he snuggled closer.
“Of course,” Jim said softly and pecked him again. “Just go to sleep. I’m here.”
He rubbed calming circles on Bones’ back, gently nuzzling his temple.
“Sorry I’m not sorry.”
For the briefest moment, Jim wasn’t sure if he hadn’t turned telepath after all and heard the murmur in his head, but then it was followed by a quiet “I love you” and shoulders tensing under his hands.
And damn Bones for being so fucking vulnerable when Jim’s defenses were down. ‘If anything can kill me…’
“I love you, too,” he said, feeling the thin body he held relax, a grateful sigh against his throat like a warm breeze. “Go to sleep, everything’s okay.”
THE END