I Thee Wed
Title: I Thee Wed
Author: the_arc5
Rating: NC-17ish. More like a hard R.
Pairing: McCoy/Scotty
Warnings: A little sexing. Bones swears. (Like anybody's surprised there.)
Summary: Bones and Scotty have a marriage of convenience. Love has nothing to do with it. Really.
Notes: This is a fill for a kink meme prompt about a million years ago. I've since lost the prompt, but it was for Scotty and Bones in a marriage of convenience. I also apologize for any and all mangling of Scotty's accent.
It’s the kind of thing you do when you’re drunk, and they are, a little. Maudlin drunks, both of them, can’t help it. But it makes perfect sense, while everyone around them is high on the happiness of shore leave, that they are maudlin together. That they confess to each other.
Maybe it’s easier because they don’t really know each other that well, and neither can muster up the energy to be afraid of judgment.
One way or another, they spill secrets that are the same, and in a faint haze of alcohol and misplaced genius-Scotty is a problem-solver, and Bones usually listens to reason when he can find it-they decide to leave the bar and fix this shit.
When they wake up the next morning in the same bed in a cheap hotel, they are married.
*****
It’s not a real marriage. Bones remembers real marriage, and there was a lot more yelling, and a lot more snide remarks, and a lot more sex despite it all. It’s been three weeks, and nothing’s happened. Not that he wants it to; it’s not a real marriage, after all. They share quarters, share a bed, and mostly whisk past each other on their way to another endless shift. Not real at all.
Until Scotty pauses in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, while Bones gets dressed.
“What?” he finally asks, after a few minutes of awkward silence.
Scotty sniffs, a Scottish sound that means something, but Bones can’t figure out what the hell that something is. “We don’t have rings.”
Bones quirks an eyebrow. “We have a license.”
“Aye, but not rings,” Scotty says again. “Nobody believes me without a ring.”
It’s Bones’ turn to snort, but Scotty pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds out two titanium bands on his palm.
“I made ‘em,” Scotty says, a little sheepishly. “Spare bits lying about, you know. You don’t have to wear it, I just thought…”
Bones shakes his head, laughs a little, and holds out his left hand. Scotty steps forward to take it, his grip sure and gentle. He takes the larger of the bands and says something in Gaelic, then slides it on. The metal is cool against his skin.
“What’d you say?” he asks gruffly. Scotty gives him a half-grin.
“Old, old Scottish blessing,” he answers. “Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.”
He’s a doctor; he likes that. He turns over Scotty’s hand, grasps the left one, takes the ring.
“Don’t know any old Scottish blessings,” he says. “But I’ll take yours. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.”
The ring slips easily over Scotty’s finger, and they stand, hands clasped, in silence for a moment. Scotty shrugs, saying why not? without saying a word, and leans forward to press his lips against Bones’ mouth. The kiss is light, undemanding, and over as soon as it begins.
“Guess we’re really married now,” he says, grins, and leaves. Bones sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the band of titanium, wondering what exactly a real marriage is.
*****
Leo is a grumpy old bastard who likes to drink, and that suits Scotty just fine. He’s a grumpy bastard himself when he’s not being a cheerful bastard, and he likes a man who can swallow the good stuff without tearing up like a sentimental lass, which Leo can certainly do. And the man may be a doctor, not an engineer…he’s reminded of the fact any time he gets a little carried away on the subject of the Enterprise’s ample nacelles…but he’s smart enough to keep up, most of the time. At the very least, he’ll listen when Scotty wants to talk. He hadn’t really expected that, but Leo’s a good listener.
And he’s warm when Scotty tumbles into bed, smelling like burnt fusion rods and reactor fluids. Delta Vega was cold, too cold, and very, very empty. Scotty is at home with machinery and theories, but he needs people, too. Sometimes, when there isn’t an emergency taking up his attention and time, he comes to the bridge, just to be with people. (Not that his Engineering crew doesn’t consist of people, but let’s be honest, they’re engineers, ye ken, and less people-like than well, other people.) Getting in bed with Leo feels more personal than sex, more important. There’s something painfully intimate about sharing body heat without expectations or demands. Leo always snuffles a little bit, like he’s annoyed, and then gathers Scotty into his arms without even waking. It’s a small comfort that Scotty hadn’t realized he needed so very much. The universe is a big place, cold and dark and emptier than Scotty really likes to think about. He’s damned lucky he has someone to hang on to, and someone to hang on to him.
*****
Blood has never bothered Bones, never in his life. He was the kid who thought cuts and scrapes were cool, showed off his bruises proudly. He never flinched in Anatomy, no matter what they dissected. And he always knew space was just a colder version of hell, and the patients that pass through his sickbay confirm the suspicion. He’s seen some horrible things.
But the blood…that blood…
He comes back to his quarters, walks calmly to the bathroom, and collapses to his knees to retch violently, again and again and again. His stomach clenches when it’s empty and his muscles begin to shake with fatigue and shock. The smooth polymer of the floor is cool on his cheek when he loses the fight to sit upright, curling in the fetal position and letting the pain and panic and fear and sheer intensity of the past six hours take its inexorable toll.
There are hands on his shoulders, his back, his face. The hands carry the faint tang of machinery.
“Easy, easy,” Scotty soothes. Bones cracks his eyes open, and Scotty is right there, hovering close. “Can you sit up?”
He can, if Scotty holds him. He does.
“Clean your teeth, all right?” Scotty says, levering him up and guiding him to the sink. "You’ll feel better.”
He stands, his hands still caressing Bones gently, as teeth are cleaned and a glass of water is drunk. Then, he half-carries Bones back to their bed and goes to rummage in the closet. He comes back with a soft, worn quilt and pulls it over both of them, bundling the edges in to form a cotton cocoon of warmth around them. He curls over Bones’ back like he does this every day, and hums, a tuneless, low vibration rumbling through his chest and against Bones’ shoulders.
“I don’t do this,” Bones breathes against Scotty’s arm, overlaid by quilt. “I can’t do this.”
“You were in there for six hours,” Scotty says. “I was in the transporter room, Leo; I saw. That wouldn’t be easy to take care of on anyone, never mind your best friend. It’s all right.”
Bones shudders against his will. “Humans aren’t made to bleed that way, Scotty,” he groans. “I didn’t think I could stop it. I thought I was going to lose him this time.”
He gets a Scottish noise for that statement. He’s still not sure what it means, but it’s comforting anyway.
“He’ll be all right, though?” Scotty asks.
“Yeah. He’s all right. Kept his veins from collapsing, stopped the internal bleeding, repaired his lungs. Spock’s with him; if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the green-blooded hobgoblin was worried about him.”
“Mmhmm,” Scotty hums noncommittally. “Are you all right?”
With the tactile comfort of the worn quilt and the warmth of Scotty pressed against his back, Bones relaxes a little. “I’m here.”
“Not good enough, laddie,” Scotty says, his smile coloring his voice.
“Good enough for me,” Bones rumbles, rubbing his face into Scotty’s forearm.
Scotty is unimpressed; Bones can interpret that particular noise. His hands start moving, smoothing over tense muscles, carding through Bones’ hair, one hand tentatively interlacing their fingers together. Bones feels ready to fly apart and rock steady simultaneously. He’s hurt, but he’s safe; he’s unhappy, but he’s comforted.
“Space is shit,” he says with feeling. Scotty laughs.
“Y’only say that because you see the worst of it,” he says. “It can be utter shite, I’ll grant y’that, but it can be beautiful and exciting, too.”
“We’re rattling through an airless vacuum on a few bits of metal screwed together,” Bones retorts. “And whenever we do manage to touch solid ground, this crew, our intrepid captain in particular, have contests to see who can get the most blood on my sickbay floor.”
Scotty cuffs the back of his head lightly. “We’re soaring through the unexplored wonders of space in the best man-made creation since the sandwich. And there are not contests, because the wee little girls that pose as crew around here refuse to place bets. I tried.”
Bones laughs, unexpectedly jolted out of his misery. He rolls over in Scotty’s arms so they are nose to nose.
“You’re a menace,” he says fondly. Scotty looks at him, his gaze sober. Bones’ smile fades.
“What?”
Scotty shakes his head, not answering, and suddenly his mouth is on Bones’, hot and pressing. Bones’ jaw falls open mostly out of shock, and Scotty takes the opportunity to lick his way into Bones’ mouth, biting at his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue. The warm, soothing hands on Bones’ back turn possessive and needy, pulling him closer, palming his shoulderblades as if he could just melt into Bones’ skin. He nudges at Bones’ leg with his, then deftly twines them together, bringing their hips flush and pressing a long, solid heat against Bones’ groin.
“God, Scotty,” Bones breathes out, and his hands start scrabbling at Scotty’s clothes without conscious thought. Scotty leans back slightly, letting his shirt come up and off, and starts working at Bones’. Somehow, they manage to undress with barely a breath between kisses, fingers clumsy and a bit frantic. Scotty’s hips roll involuntarily, and Bones hisses at the sensation. He takes Scotty’s cock in a firm grip and begins to stroke, a smooth, steady rhythm that has Scotty panting against the hollow of his throat within seconds.
“Wait…” he groans, thrusting up into Bones’ grip and his hands slipping over Bones’ bare arms. The second Bones lets go, Scotty is slithering down his body, a quick lithe movement that Bones knows he learned in the Jeffries tubes, which is a disturbing knowledge that kindly flees when Scotty’s mouth closes around him. There are no incomprehensible Scottish noises now, just huffs of breath and greedy moans and the slick wet slide of Bones’ prick through Scotty’s lips. Scotty’s fingers bruise Bones’ hips as he jerks convulsively upward, the flick of Scotty’s tongue breaking through the final threads of his control. He comes with a shout, clutching the worn quilt with both fists, almost whimpering as Scotty nurses him dry, licking up every drop.
They kiss, the salty tang of Bones’ come in Scotty’s mouth. Scotty reaches down to finish himself, but Bones swats his hand away and closes his own fist around Scotty’s length, drawing him over the edge with half a dozen fast, hard strokes. They lie together, limbs awkwardly tangled, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” Bones says into the quiet. Scotty snorts.
“Feeling better?”
“Is this your idea of stress relief?”
“Did it work?”
Bones considers this, burrowing a little deeper into Scotty’s side. “Maybe.”
Scotty presses a tender, open-mouthed kiss beneath Bones’ ear. “Go to sleep. It’ll be all right. And I’ll be here in the morning.”
Bones drifts, Scotty still but for his breathing, warm and solid against him.
“We’ve never…” he slurs a little, and he feels Scotty’s head lift.
“What?”
“That was the first time we’ve ever done…anything,” he finishes lamely. Scotty nuzzles into his neck.
“No good feeling guilty,” he says, voice low and husky. “We’re married. And there’s a sight more of anything I’d like to try, once you’re not all traumatized and falling asleep.”
“You’re a menace,” Bones reiterates with a solid sense of conviction. Then, “Later, promise?”
“Aye,” Scotty says, and shifts his arms to hold Bones better. “Later. I promise.”
*****
Scotty fixes machines and Leo fixes people. That is the way the universe is arranged, and the universe should not abruptly rearrange things just because some sodding planet or another decides to wave their boom-boom sticks about.
But when the breathless order to beam up hits the transporter room, and Scotty pulls the away team back to the Enterprise with a few taps of his fingers, Leo is lying on the transport pad, covered in blood, the Captain’s hands pressed to his chest as if trying desperately to hold his life inside with only his fingers. Medical is there in a matter of moments, hoisting Leo onto a stretcher and hauling him away. Kirk follows for a few steps, and then falls against a wall, as if his legs simply won’t carry him any farther. Spock is close behind; he presses a hand to Kirk’s lower back and murmurs something in his ear. Kirk nods, and they leave together, Spock’s hand still resting innocuously on Kirk’s back. It would be the best bit of gossip Scotty’s had the fortune to personally witness in months, but the realization is lost on him. He’s still sitting at his station, muscles locked, staring at the smears of blood where Leo had been.
Leo.
He snaps out of his horrified trance and hurtles out of Transport at a dead run. It doesn’t do much good; when he makes it to sickbay, he’s made to wait outside until Leo comes out of surgery. He waits for about an hour and a half, but it feels much, much longer. If Leo dies… He can’t finish the thought. He runs his hands over the smooth panels of the corridor, longing for something to tinker with, something to fix. He imagines desperately for a few moments that he can do something incredible, build a machine with capabilities so amazing, that Leo’s life will be saved. But there’s nothing he can build that will fix a hole in a man’s body, and he slumps against the wall, a bitter burn in the back of his throat.
“Mr. Scott? You can come in now,” says a soft voice. Chapel. Scotty dips her a sharp nod then scrambles inside sickbay. Leo is lying on one of the biobeds near the back, looking pale, his eyes shut.
“Oh god,” Scotty whimpers, his voice too high, cracking. He goes to the bed and picks up Leo’s hand, holding it in both of his. Leo’s eyes blink open.
“Scotty?” he says, his voice a grating whisper.
“Aye,” Scotty answers, and tries to wipe the telltale marks of tears off his face. It doesn’t work at all.
“Shh,” Leo murmurs, clumsily brushing his fingers against Scotty’s cheek. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“You…you were…you are…” Scotty can’t manage a single coherent sentence. His brain is just screaming Leo, Leo, Leo and all he wants is to crawl up on the biobed and for this whole thing to be over and forgotten, Leo safe and asleep in his arms. He settles instead for threading their fingers together and glaring.
"You scared me."
Leo chuckles low in his throat, ending with a cough that jolts Scotty upright, already looking for someone to call.
"Calm down," Leo grates. "Throat's dry, s'all."
Scotty lets go long enough to get a cup of water and a straw, and he holds up Leo's head while he drinks. He sinks to a chair at Leo's bedside, still feeling like the world has been upended and he doesn't know how to stand up straight anymore.
"You know what I want?" Leo says. Scotty stiffens.
"What? Anything, just tell me."
Leo grins. "I want that old blanket of yours, and you tucking me in. I don't know how manly it is to still have a blankie, as old as we are, but god, it always makes me feel better."
"My gran made it," Scotty says absently, tracing Leo's knuckles with his thumb. "And it's not a blankie."
"Mhmm," Leo says noncommittally. "It smells like you."
"D'ye want me to go get it? I will."
Leo squeezes his fingers. "Yeah, I'd like that. And when you get back, I'll bet I can make enough room up here for two."
"You want to cuddle!" Scotty accuses, but a weight has suddenly been lifted from his chest, and he smiles.
"Shh, not so loud!" Leo whispers in consternation. "It's you, you know. You've corrupted me."
It's probably true, but with Leo curled safely into his side, the old quilt wrapped snugly around them both, Scotty can't find it in him to be sorry.
*****
"I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission first, but I think you'll like him," Bones says to the monitor. Joanna chews thoughtfully at the end of her braid, looking far too sober for a little girl of eight.
"Can I see him?" she asks. Scotty steps in view and beams at her.
"Hullo, there," he says, his brogue thick over the words. "Montgomery Scott here."
Joanna studies him. "Go away, Daddy," she says after a moment's pause. "I'm gonna talk to him for a minute."
Bones lifts an eyebrow at her, but steps into the other room anyway. He doesn't last two minutes. He peers around the doorframe, careful to keep out of visual range, but close enough to listen.
"...Scotland, so that's why," Scotty is saying. Joanna probably said something about the accent. All the tact of a stampeding bull, her, bless her little heart. Scotty doesn't seem mad, though, so she couldn't have been too insulting.
"Why did you marry my dad?" she's asking now. Bones stiffens, ready to charge in and cover the question with bluster, but Scotty's laugh holds him in place for a few vital seconds.
"Weel, lassie," he says, exaggerating his accent on purpose. Bones can tell. "The truth is, your da was lonely. Oh, he's got lots of friends, for sure, and everybody loves our doctor. But he still had to go home to an empty room, with no husband or wife or sweet little girl to keep him company. Just think of how you would feel, leaving your friends every day and going home to a house with no lights on, no supper on the table, and nobody to tell you that they loved you when you went to sleep."
Joanna considers this. "He was sad?"
"Aye," Scotty says seriously. "He was. He didn't tell anybody about it, and he wasn't sad all the time, but he needed somebody to look after him, and somebody to look after, too. And, well, that's where I come in."
"You take care of him," Joanna says. It isn't a question.
"I do my very best," Scotty replies. "Your da is verra special, Joanna. I'm just an old Scottish engineer. But I do my best."
"I love my daddy," Joanna says sternly, "but I can't go to space with him. I don't want him to be sad. So you have to promise to take really, really good care of him. Make sure he doesn't get sad or lonely, okay?"
"I promise," Scotty whispers, and it feels more solemn than any wedding vow Bones has ever heard. Joanna grins impishly at him.
"I like you," she decides. "What do I call you? I already have one daddy, and I call Charlie 'Papa'."
"How about Da?" Scotty suggests gently. "Or just Monty, if you want."
"Da," Joanna repeats softly, and something in Bones melts at the word. "I like that. Da. Can you bring Daddy back so I can say goodbye?"
"Of course." Scotty walks to the door, clapping him on the shoulder, and jerks his head toward the comm unit. "All yours."
Bones yanks Scotty into a crushing hug. "Not any more. Ours."
*****
"Dammit, Scotty, I've got work to do!" Leo grumbles as they walk toward transport, Scotty tugging anxiously at his sleeve.
"And I'm telling you it's important!" Scotty snaps back with unusual acerbity. His tone does not improve Leo's mood.
"Is someone bleeding?" he asks. Scotty shoots him a look.
"Stop being such a horse's arse and get your own arse in there!"
Leo crosses his arms in defiance and Scotty shoves him through the open doorway. In a split second, the not-quite fight is over.
"Daddy!"
Leo's arms are full of a mad tangle of lanky limbs and tangled brown hair. There might be a teddy bear in there, somewhere. Scotty catches a glimpse of a wide, eager grin somewhere in the cyclone; Leo looks like he's been clubbed over the head. Joanna kisses her father with a loud smack, then wiggles down to throw herself at Scotty. He snorts out a surprised breath at her weight, but holds her fast as she hugs him.
"Hello, Da," she whispers into his ear, and he hugs her harder.
"Hullo, Jo," he says back, and Leo snaps out of his trance.
"What in blue blazes is going on?" he growls, but pets gently at Joanna's hair as he does.
"Da decided we needed to visit!" Joanna chimes, landing on her feet again. "I got to take a shuttle to New York, and then to Luna Base 17, and then a transport here! I even got my own room on the transport. The sink folded down out of the wall, Daddy! Isn't that cool?"
"Cool," Leo agrees absently. "Da decided this, did he?"
"Yeah," Joanna agrees. "He sent me the tickets in the mail, and he sent me a port-comm so he could check on me at all the stops. He said you'd be so surprised. Are you surprised, Daddy?"
"That's one way to put it," Leo says, staring at Scotty over Joanna's head.
"Awesome!" Joanna squeals. "Can I see the ship now, Da?"
Scotty laughs and catches her hand. "You can, indeed, lass. Welcome aboard the starship Enterprise. A finer lady you'll never set foot on."
Leo dazedly grabs his daughter's other hand, catching her teddy bear as it falls, and follows on the tour. After a while, he even points out things as they walk. The entire bridge is enchanted with her within seconds, and Leo's half-smile as Joanna brazenly climbs on Spock's lap to peer into his viewer assures Scotty that this is his best plan ever. The glow of his success doesn't fade over the next week and a half, as he teaches Joanna to route a circuit, Keenser teaches her to climb all over Engineering, and Leo just basks in her presence, calling her Princess and laughing when she takes over the Captain's chair with no real effort at all. She even has to get an extra bag for all the presents the crew comes up with-a small potted plant from Sulu, beautifully rendered star charts from Chekov, a disc of music from Uhura, unholy amounts of candy from the Captain, a beaded purse from the Captain's yeoman, and a hand-sewn doll from Spock. (Leo privately shares a round of uproarious laughter with Scotty over Spock's gift, but the reverent way Joanna cradles it keeps public ribbing to a minimum.) Scotty is braced for sadness when she gets on the transport for Earth, but it isn't nearly as bad as he expects. Leo is subdued for the rest of the day, and Keenser obstinately hides in the pipes in protest, but there isn't any major outbreak of depression. When he finishes his shift, he heads for quarters, expecting Leo to be late. Instead, he finds himself roughly pressed to the wall with Leo's tongue halfway down his throat.
"You," Leo breathes roughly, but Scotty understands the thanks in the spaces around the word, and kisses him back. It isn't until later, with Leo thrusting slowly into him, their fingers tangled tightly together on the mattress, that Leo finds the motivation to talk again.
"I love you," he pants, and abruptly comes, dropping his head into the crook of Scotty's neck as his hips drive involuntarily forward. He sucks Scotty off afterward, once again prohibiting speech from both parties, and as they lie in a happy, sweaty, sated tumble, Scotty tugs gently at Leo's hair.
"D'you mean it?" he asks. Leo looks at him like he's an idiot.
"You're a good fuck," he concedes. "But that's not why I married you."
"You didn't marry me because you loved me, either," Scotty returns.
"No, I didn't. But I sure as hell do now."
Scotty traces the outline of Leo's ear. "Say it again?"
"I love you, you Scottish bastard," Leo growls, and Scotty smiles, because said like that, he has to mean it.
"I love you, too," he answers, and keeps grinning as Leo kisses him, as they fall asleep, as they dream, tangled together and not letting go.
Author: the_arc5
Rating: NC-17ish. More like a hard R.
Pairing: McCoy/Scotty
Warnings: A little sexing. Bones swears. (Like anybody's surprised there.)
Summary: Bones and Scotty have a marriage of convenience. Love has nothing to do with it. Really.
Notes: This is a fill for a kink meme prompt about a million years ago. I've since lost the prompt, but it was for Scotty and Bones in a marriage of convenience. I also apologize for any and all mangling of Scotty's accent.
It’s the kind of thing you do when you’re drunk, and they are, a little. Maudlin drunks, both of them, can’t help it. But it makes perfect sense, while everyone around them is high on the happiness of shore leave, that they are maudlin together. That they confess to each other.
Maybe it’s easier because they don’t really know each other that well, and neither can muster up the energy to be afraid of judgment.
One way or another, they spill secrets that are the same, and in a faint haze of alcohol and misplaced genius-Scotty is a problem-solver, and Bones usually listens to reason when he can find it-they decide to leave the bar and fix this shit.
When they wake up the next morning in the same bed in a cheap hotel, they are married.
*****
It’s not a real marriage. Bones remembers real marriage, and there was a lot more yelling, and a lot more snide remarks, and a lot more sex despite it all. It’s been three weeks, and nothing’s happened. Not that he wants it to; it’s not a real marriage, after all. They share quarters, share a bed, and mostly whisk past each other on their way to another endless shift. Not real at all.
Until Scotty pauses in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, while Bones gets dressed.
“What?” he finally asks, after a few minutes of awkward silence.
Scotty sniffs, a Scottish sound that means something, but Bones can’t figure out what the hell that something is. “We don’t have rings.”
Bones quirks an eyebrow. “We have a license.”
“Aye, but not rings,” Scotty says again. “Nobody believes me without a ring.”
It’s Bones’ turn to snort, but Scotty pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds out two titanium bands on his palm.
“I made ‘em,” Scotty says, a little sheepishly. “Spare bits lying about, you know. You don’t have to wear it, I just thought…”
Bones shakes his head, laughs a little, and holds out his left hand. Scotty steps forward to take it, his grip sure and gentle. He takes the larger of the bands and says something in Gaelic, then slides it on. The metal is cool against his skin.
“What’d you say?” he asks gruffly. Scotty gives him a half-grin.
“Old, old Scottish blessing,” he answers. “Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.”
He’s a doctor; he likes that. He turns over Scotty’s hand, grasps the left one, takes the ring.
“Don’t know any old Scottish blessings,” he says. “But I’ll take yours. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.”
The ring slips easily over Scotty’s finger, and they stand, hands clasped, in silence for a moment. Scotty shrugs, saying why not? without saying a word, and leans forward to press his lips against Bones’ mouth. The kiss is light, undemanding, and over as soon as it begins.
“Guess we’re really married now,” he says, grins, and leaves. Bones sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the band of titanium, wondering what exactly a real marriage is.
*****
Leo is a grumpy old bastard who likes to drink, and that suits Scotty just fine. He’s a grumpy bastard himself when he’s not being a cheerful bastard, and he likes a man who can swallow the good stuff without tearing up like a sentimental lass, which Leo can certainly do. And the man may be a doctor, not an engineer…he’s reminded of the fact any time he gets a little carried away on the subject of the Enterprise’s ample nacelles…but he’s smart enough to keep up, most of the time. At the very least, he’ll listen when Scotty wants to talk. He hadn’t really expected that, but Leo’s a good listener.
And he’s warm when Scotty tumbles into bed, smelling like burnt fusion rods and reactor fluids. Delta Vega was cold, too cold, and very, very empty. Scotty is at home with machinery and theories, but he needs people, too. Sometimes, when there isn’t an emergency taking up his attention and time, he comes to the bridge, just to be with people. (Not that his Engineering crew doesn’t consist of people, but let’s be honest, they’re engineers, ye ken, and less people-like than well, other people.) Getting in bed with Leo feels more personal than sex, more important. There’s something painfully intimate about sharing body heat without expectations or demands. Leo always snuffles a little bit, like he’s annoyed, and then gathers Scotty into his arms without even waking. It’s a small comfort that Scotty hadn’t realized he needed so very much. The universe is a big place, cold and dark and emptier than Scotty really likes to think about. He’s damned lucky he has someone to hang on to, and someone to hang on to him.
*****
Blood has never bothered Bones, never in his life. He was the kid who thought cuts and scrapes were cool, showed off his bruises proudly. He never flinched in Anatomy, no matter what they dissected. And he always knew space was just a colder version of hell, and the patients that pass through his sickbay confirm the suspicion. He’s seen some horrible things.
But the blood…that blood…
He comes back to his quarters, walks calmly to the bathroom, and collapses to his knees to retch violently, again and again and again. His stomach clenches when it’s empty and his muscles begin to shake with fatigue and shock. The smooth polymer of the floor is cool on his cheek when he loses the fight to sit upright, curling in the fetal position and letting the pain and panic and fear and sheer intensity of the past six hours take its inexorable toll.
There are hands on his shoulders, his back, his face. The hands carry the faint tang of machinery.
“Easy, easy,” Scotty soothes. Bones cracks his eyes open, and Scotty is right there, hovering close. “Can you sit up?”
He can, if Scotty holds him. He does.
“Clean your teeth, all right?” Scotty says, levering him up and guiding him to the sink. "You’ll feel better.”
He stands, his hands still caressing Bones gently, as teeth are cleaned and a glass of water is drunk. Then, he half-carries Bones back to their bed and goes to rummage in the closet. He comes back with a soft, worn quilt and pulls it over both of them, bundling the edges in to form a cotton cocoon of warmth around them. He curls over Bones’ back like he does this every day, and hums, a tuneless, low vibration rumbling through his chest and against Bones’ shoulders.
“I don’t do this,” Bones breathes against Scotty’s arm, overlaid by quilt. “I can’t do this.”
“You were in there for six hours,” Scotty says. “I was in the transporter room, Leo; I saw. That wouldn’t be easy to take care of on anyone, never mind your best friend. It’s all right.”
Bones shudders against his will. “Humans aren’t made to bleed that way, Scotty,” he groans. “I didn’t think I could stop it. I thought I was going to lose him this time.”
He gets a Scottish noise for that statement. He’s still not sure what it means, but it’s comforting anyway.
“He’ll be all right, though?” Scotty asks.
“Yeah. He’s all right. Kept his veins from collapsing, stopped the internal bleeding, repaired his lungs. Spock’s with him; if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the green-blooded hobgoblin was worried about him.”
“Mmhmm,” Scotty hums noncommittally. “Are you all right?”
With the tactile comfort of the worn quilt and the warmth of Scotty pressed against his back, Bones relaxes a little. “I’m here.”
“Not good enough, laddie,” Scotty says, his smile coloring his voice.
“Good enough for me,” Bones rumbles, rubbing his face into Scotty’s forearm.
Scotty is unimpressed; Bones can interpret that particular noise. His hands start moving, smoothing over tense muscles, carding through Bones’ hair, one hand tentatively interlacing their fingers together. Bones feels ready to fly apart and rock steady simultaneously. He’s hurt, but he’s safe; he’s unhappy, but he’s comforted.
“Space is shit,” he says with feeling. Scotty laughs.
“Y’only say that because you see the worst of it,” he says. “It can be utter shite, I’ll grant y’that, but it can be beautiful and exciting, too.”
“We’re rattling through an airless vacuum on a few bits of metal screwed together,” Bones retorts. “And whenever we do manage to touch solid ground, this crew, our intrepid captain in particular, have contests to see who can get the most blood on my sickbay floor.”
Scotty cuffs the back of his head lightly. “We’re soaring through the unexplored wonders of space in the best man-made creation since the sandwich. And there are not contests, because the wee little girls that pose as crew around here refuse to place bets. I tried.”
Bones laughs, unexpectedly jolted out of his misery. He rolls over in Scotty’s arms so they are nose to nose.
“You’re a menace,” he says fondly. Scotty looks at him, his gaze sober. Bones’ smile fades.
“What?”
Scotty shakes his head, not answering, and suddenly his mouth is on Bones’, hot and pressing. Bones’ jaw falls open mostly out of shock, and Scotty takes the opportunity to lick his way into Bones’ mouth, biting at his bottom lip and sucking on his tongue. The warm, soothing hands on Bones’ back turn possessive and needy, pulling him closer, palming his shoulderblades as if he could just melt into Bones’ skin. He nudges at Bones’ leg with his, then deftly twines them together, bringing their hips flush and pressing a long, solid heat against Bones’ groin.
“God, Scotty,” Bones breathes out, and his hands start scrabbling at Scotty’s clothes without conscious thought. Scotty leans back slightly, letting his shirt come up and off, and starts working at Bones’. Somehow, they manage to undress with barely a breath between kisses, fingers clumsy and a bit frantic. Scotty’s hips roll involuntarily, and Bones hisses at the sensation. He takes Scotty’s cock in a firm grip and begins to stroke, a smooth, steady rhythm that has Scotty panting against the hollow of his throat within seconds.
“Wait…” he groans, thrusting up into Bones’ grip and his hands slipping over Bones’ bare arms. The second Bones lets go, Scotty is slithering down his body, a quick lithe movement that Bones knows he learned in the Jeffries tubes, which is a disturbing knowledge that kindly flees when Scotty’s mouth closes around him. There are no incomprehensible Scottish noises now, just huffs of breath and greedy moans and the slick wet slide of Bones’ prick through Scotty’s lips. Scotty’s fingers bruise Bones’ hips as he jerks convulsively upward, the flick of Scotty’s tongue breaking through the final threads of his control. He comes with a shout, clutching the worn quilt with both fists, almost whimpering as Scotty nurses him dry, licking up every drop.
They kiss, the salty tang of Bones’ come in Scotty’s mouth. Scotty reaches down to finish himself, but Bones swats his hand away and closes his own fist around Scotty’s length, drawing him over the edge with half a dozen fast, hard strokes. They lie together, limbs awkwardly tangled, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” Bones says into the quiet. Scotty snorts.
“Feeling better?”
“Is this your idea of stress relief?”
“Did it work?”
Bones considers this, burrowing a little deeper into Scotty’s side. “Maybe.”
Scotty presses a tender, open-mouthed kiss beneath Bones’ ear. “Go to sleep. It’ll be all right. And I’ll be here in the morning.”
Bones drifts, Scotty still but for his breathing, warm and solid against him.
“We’ve never…” he slurs a little, and he feels Scotty’s head lift.
“What?”
“That was the first time we’ve ever done…anything,” he finishes lamely. Scotty nuzzles into his neck.
“No good feeling guilty,” he says, voice low and husky. “We’re married. And there’s a sight more of anything I’d like to try, once you’re not all traumatized and falling asleep.”
“You’re a menace,” Bones reiterates with a solid sense of conviction. Then, “Later, promise?”
“Aye,” Scotty says, and shifts his arms to hold Bones better. “Later. I promise.”
*****
Scotty fixes machines and Leo fixes people. That is the way the universe is arranged, and the universe should not abruptly rearrange things just because some sodding planet or another decides to wave their boom-boom sticks about.
But when the breathless order to beam up hits the transporter room, and Scotty pulls the away team back to the Enterprise with a few taps of his fingers, Leo is lying on the transport pad, covered in blood, the Captain’s hands pressed to his chest as if trying desperately to hold his life inside with only his fingers. Medical is there in a matter of moments, hoisting Leo onto a stretcher and hauling him away. Kirk follows for a few steps, and then falls against a wall, as if his legs simply won’t carry him any farther. Spock is close behind; he presses a hand to Kirk’s lower back and murmurs something in his ear. Kirk nods, and they leave together, Spock’s hand still resting innocuously on Kirk’s back. It would be the best bit of gossip Scotty’s had the fortune to personally witness in months, but the realization is lost on him. He’s still sitting at his station, muscles locked, staring at the smears of blood where Leo had been.
Leo.
He snaps out of his horrified trance and hurtles out of Transport at a dead run. It doesn’t do much good; when he makes it to sickbay, he’s made to wait outside until Leo comes out of surgery. He waits for about an hour and a half, but it feels much, much longer. If Leo dies… He can’t finish the thought. He runs his hands over the smooth panels of the corridor, longing for something to tinker with, something to fix. He imagines desperately for a few moments that he can do something incredible, build a machine with capabilities so amazing, that Leo’s life will be saved. But there’s nothing he can build that will fix a hole in a man’s body, and he slumps against the wall, a bitter burn in the back of his throat.
“Mr. Scott? You can come in now,” says a soft voice. Chapel. Scotty dips her a sharp nod then scrambles inside sickbay. Leo is lying on one of the biobeds near the back, looking pale, his eyes shut.
“Oh god,” Scotty whimpers, his voice too high, cracking. He goes to the bed and picks up Leo’s hand, holding it in both of his. Leo’s eyes blink open.
“Scotty?” he says, his voice a grating whisper.
“Aye,” Scotty answers, and tries to wipe the telltale marks of tears off his face. It doesn’t work at all.
“Shh,” Leo murmurs, clumsily brushing his fingers against Scotty’s cheek. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“You…you were…you are…” Scotty can’t manage a single coherent sentence. His brain is just screaming Leo, Leo, Leo and all he wants is to crawl up on the biobed and for this whole thing to be over and forgotten, Leo safe and asleep in his arms. He settles instead for threading their fingers together and glaring.
"You scared me."
Leo chuckles low in his throat, ending with a cough that jolts Scotty upright, already looking for someone to call.
"Calm down," Leo grates. "Throat's dry, s'all."
Scotty lets go long enough to get a cup of water and a straw, and he holds up Leo's head while he drinks. He sinks to a chair at Leo's bedside, still feeling like the world has been upended and he doesn't know how to stand up straight anymore.
"You know what I want?" Leo says. Scotty stiffens.
"What? Anything, just tell me."
Leo grins. "I want that old blanket of yours, and you tucking me in. I don't know how manly it is to still have a blankie, as old as we are, but god, it always makes me feel better."
"My gran made it," Scotty says absently, tracing Leo's knuckles with his thumb. "And it's not a blankie."
"Mhmm," Leo says noncommittally. "It smells like you."
"D'ye want me to go get it? I will."
Leo squeezes his fingers. "Yeah, I'd like that. And when you get back, I'll bet I can make enough room up here for two."
"You want to cuddle!" Scotty accuses, but a weight has suddenly been lifted from his chest, and he smiles.
"Shh, not so loud!" Leo whispers in consternation. "It's you, you know. You've corrupted me."
It's probably true, but with Leo curled safely into his side, the old quilt wrapped snugly around them both, Scotty can't find it in him to be sorry.
*****
"I'm sorry I didn't ask your permission first, but I think you'll like him," Bones says to the monitor. Joanna chews thoughtfully at the end of her braid, looking far too sober for a little girl of eight.
"Can I see him?" she asks. Scotty steps in view and beams at her.
"Hullo, there," he says, his brogue thick over the words. "Montgomery Scott here."
Joanna studies him. "Go away, Daddy," she says after a moment's pause. "I'm gonna talk to him for a minute."
Bones lifts an eyebrow at her, but steps into the other room anyway. He doesn't last two minutes. He peers around the doorframe, careful to keep out of visual range, but close enough to listen.
"...Scotland, so that's why," Scotty is saying. Joanna probably said something about the accent. All the tact of a stampeding bull, her, bless her little heart. Scotty doesn't seem mad, though, so she couldn't have been too insulting.
"Why did you marry my dad?" she's asking now. Bones stiffens, ready to charge in and cover the question with bluster, but Scotty's laugh holds him in place for a few vital seconds.
"Weel, lassie," he says, exaggerating his accent on purpose. Bones can tell. "The truth is, your da was lonely. Oh, he's got lots of friends, for sure, and everybody loves our doctor. But he still had to go home to an empty room, with no husband or wife or sweet little girl to keep him company. Just think of how you would feel, leaving your friends every day and going home to a house with no lights on, no supper on the table, and nobody to tell you that they loved you when you went to sleep."
Joanna considers this. "He was sad?"
"Aye," Scotty says seriously. "He was. He didn't tell anybody about it, and he wasn't sad all the time, but he needed somebody to look after him, and somebody to look after, too. And, well, that's where I come in."
"You take care of him," Joanna says. It isn't a question.
"I do my very best," Scotty replies. "Your da is verra special, Joanna. I'm just an old Scottish engineer. But I do my best."
"I love my daddy," Joanna says sternly, "but I can't go to space with him. I don't want him to be sad. So you have to promise to take really, really good care of him. Make sure he doesn't get sad or lonely, okay?"
"I promise," Scotty whispers, and it feels more solemn than any wedding vow Bones has ever heard. Joanna grins impishly at him.
"I like you," she decides. "What do I call you? I already have one daddy, and I call Charlie 'Papa'."
"How about Da?" Scotty suggests gently. "Or just Monty, if you want."
"Da," Joanna repeats softly, and something in Bones melts at the word. "I like that. Da. Can you bring Daddy back so I can say goodbye?"
"Of course." Scotty walks to the door, clapping him on the shoulder, and jerks his head toward the comm unit. "All yours."
Bones yanks Scotty into a crushing hug. "Not any more. Ours."
*****
"Dammit, Scotty, I've got work to do!" Leo grumbles as they walk toward transport, Scotty tugging anxiously at his sleeve.
"And I'm telling you it's important!" Scotty snaps back with unusual acerbity. His tone does not improve Leo's mood.
"Is someone bleeding?" he asks. Scotty shoots him a look.
"Stop being such a horse's arse and get your own arse in there!"
Leo crosses his arms in defiance and Scotty shoves him through the open doorway. In a split second, the not-quite fight is over.
"Daddy!"
Leo's arms are full of a mad tangle of lanky limbs and tangled brown hair. There might be a teddy bear in there, somewhere. Scotty catches a glimpse of a wide, eager grin somewhere in the cyclone; Leo looks like he's been clubbed over the head. Joanna kisses her father with a loud smack, then wiggles down to throw herself at Scotty. He snorts out a surprised breath at her weight, but holds her fast as she hugs him.
"Hello, Da," she whispers into his ear, and he hugs her harder.
"Hullo, Jo," he says back, and Leo snaps out of his trance.
"What in blue blazes is going on?" he growls, but pets gently at Joanna's hair as he does.
"Da decided we needed to visit!" Joanna chimes, landing on her feet again. "I got to take a shuttle to New York, and then to Luna Base 17, and then a transport here! I even got my own room on the transport. The sink folded down out of the wall, Daddy! Isn't that cool?"
"Cool," Leo agrees absently. "Da decided this, did he?"
"Yeah," Joanna agrees. "He sent me the tickets in the mail, and he sent me a port-comm so he could check on me at all the stops. He said you'd be so surprised. Are you surprised, Daddy?"
"That's one way to put it," Leo says, staring at Scotty over Joanna's head.
"Awesome!" Joanna squeals. "Can I see the ship now, Da?"
Scotty laughs and catches her hand. "You can, indeed, lass. Welcome aboard the starship Enterprise. A finer lady you'll never set foot on."
Leo dazedly grabs his daughter's other hand, catching her teddy bear as it falls, and follows on the tour. After a while, he even points out things as they walk. The entire bridge is enchanted with her within seconds, and Leo's half-smile as Joanna brazenly climbs on Spock's lap to peer into his viewer assures Scotty that this is his best plan ever. The glow of his success doesn't fade over the next week and a half, as he teaches Joanna to route a circuit, Keenser teaches her to climb all over Engineering, and Leo just basks in her presence, calling her Princess and laughing when she takes over the Captain's chair with no real effort at all. She even has to get an extra bag for all the presents the crew comes up with-a small potted plant from Sulu, beautifully rendered star charts from Chekov, a disc of music from Uhura, unholy amounts of candy from the Captain, a beaded purse from the Captain's yeoman, and a hand-sewn doll from Spock. (Leo privately shares a round of uproarious laughter with Scotty over Spock's gift, but the reverent way Joanna cradles it keeps public ribbing to a minimum.) Scotty is braced for sadness when she gets on the transport for Earth, but it isn't nearly as bad as he expects. Leo is subdued for the rest of the day, and Keenser obstinately hides in the pipes in protest, but there isn't any major outbreak of depression. When he finishes his shift, he heads for quarters, expecting Leo to be late. Instead, he finds himself roughly pressed to the wall with Leo's tongue halfway down his throat.
"You," Leo breathes roughly, but Scotty understands the thanks in the spaces around the word, and kisses him back. It isn't until later, with Leo thrusting slowly into him, their fingers tangled tightly together on the mattress, that Leo finds the motivation to talk again.
"I love you," he pants, and abruptly comes, dropping his head into the crook of Scotty's neck as his hips drive involuntarily forward. He sucks Scotty off afterward, once again prohibiting speech from both parties, and as they lie in a happy, sweaty, sated tumble, Scotty tugs gently at Leo's hair.
"D'you mean it?" he asks. Leo looks at him like he's an idiot.
"You're a good fuck," he concedes. "But that's not why I married you."
"You didn't marry me because you loved me, either," Scotty returns.
"No, I didn't. But I sure as hell do now."
Scotty traces the outline of Leo's ear. "Say it again?"
"I love you, you Scottish bastard," Leo growls, and Scotty smiles, because said like that, he has to mean it.
"I love you, too," he answers, and keeps grinning as Leo kisses him, as they fall asleep, as they dream, tangled together and not letting go.