He wants to trade the game he plays for shelter - [Quarters] - [Kirk, McCoy]

[behnd_blueyes]

He was late, coming back from his first shift since It had happened with Chapel's gift under one arm. He had a good excuse, should he need one, but he was tired and thoughtful as he entered, the probes in the bulkhead and door recognizing him as if it was his own room. He guessed--when he thought about it--it was. And maybe Chapel in her own way

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[sharpestscalpel]

It had been busier than an Andorian auction selling Vulcans for sex parties. The second-string nurses had picked up the shift work no problem, but they weren't as good at managing the pack of animals in uniforms who had smelled blood in the water.

Fucking Rien. Girl was a mess.

He'd hit himself with a hypo to clear up his headache but it hadn't done its work yet, was still working through his system because his head was still pounding. McCoy laid himself out on the bed on his back and kept the lights dark.

[behnd_blueyes]

The lights being dark was unexpected; it wasn't that late, and he expected McCoy to be here. He stilled, listening, and, hearing breathing, ordered the lights to 15%.

McCoy, on the bed, not (Kirk thought) asleep.

"Shit," he said. "Sorry."

[sharpestscalpel]

McCoy grunted, kept one arm over his eyes and waved Kirk's apology away with the other.

"Just a damn headache. Engineering is a clusterfuck at the moment. Scotty's too busy running around after those engines to pay attention to his crew."

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk put the box down and wandered over to the side of the bed.

"You take anything for that?" he asked automatically, because of course McCoy was a doctor and knew how to treat a headache. Still, doctors could be weird about that sort of thing. And Kirk didn't fancy spending the rest of the evening in the dark.

[sharpestscalpel]

McCoy raised his arm just enough to make his opinion of stupid questions known with a glare and a rude gesture of the hand he'd been waving at Kirk earlier.

"How was the Bridge?"

It wasn't quite a throwback to 'how was work, dear?' but it was probably too damn close for comfort. If the fucking headache hadn't been distracting him.

[behnd_blueyes]

Was this small talk, now? Wasn't any worse than his question, Kirk figured.

"On fucking alert for my first and last misstep," he said. "Chekov probably got to see Uhura's titties and is on his high horse. Captain's watching me like a hawk, when her new little yeoman isn't bringing her coffee."

Usually he got off shift and had to go do something to work off whatever he'd endured that day--even if it had just been boredom. This was... different.

[sharpestscalpel]

McCoy grunted again. The hypo was finally kicking in - slow-acting but powerful fucking stuff. He needed to eat something. He rolled to his side and then sat up, scrubbed both his palms over his face, rasped fingernails in his stubble.

"Expected you back sooner."

Kirk was just standing there like he didn't know what to do.

[behnd_blueyes]

He was, in fact, looking over at the box on the table.

"Got waylaid," he said, thinking. "I need food. What do you want?" The replicated curry sucked, but he didn't care. He moved over to the replicator. He was far more tired than he'd let himself believe, which he supposed was a good thing, but McCoy was right about the gym thing. He wasn't fucking anyone into the mattress tonight.

And there wasn't any reason to keep his meeting with Chapel from him. No reason to fuck things up because he missed something about how this worked. Not for her sake, anyway.

[sharpestscalpel]

Fuck getting up off the bed. Fuck it in the ear.

"Steak and a salad."

McCoy liked his leafy greens. And they were good for you. He at least scooted up to lean back against the headboard.

"Waylaid? Someone trying to start some shit?" Between the little video that was still circulating and the usual power struggles that were reasserting themselves now that people were getting used to Uhura, all he needed was for someone to start something with Kirk.

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk keyed it in, and carried both meals back to the bed. McCoy didn't seem to be in any mood to come to the table.

"Not exactly," he said. "Your girl Chapel is trying to mitigate shit already started." He took a bite of some unidentified meat-something, though it was spicy enough he didn't care. "It seems I offered to help take care of them, and she took me at my word."

[sharpestscalpel]

Picnic style. That was more like it.

McCoy cut into the meat - overdone but what the fucking hell did he expect out of a shitting replicator? In theory, it shouldn't be any more difficult to replicate raw meat but goddamn if the fucking thing didn't damn well overcook every single beef product it offered. Fucking replicators.

At least the tomatoes were good. Goddamn heirloom tomatoes weren't on the menu, had to get those on shitting Earth, but the little grape ones were goddamn okay.

It took McCoy a minute to register what Kirk had said, his mind full of steaks on the grill seared on the outside and bleeding on the inside, garden vegetables smelling like dirt....

"She want you to fuck her or to fuck someone up for her?"

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk tried not to wonder where McCoy's mind went when he got that look. It didn't always work.

"Martens. The engineering asshole who posted the Rien lookalike thing, whatever that was about. Seems Rien is in a terrible state about it and it's up to me--with Chapel's help, if I want--to take care of him."

[sharpestscalpel]

Another bite of steak. Salad dressing dripped from fork to shirt. "Shit." He dabbed at it with one of the napkins that Kirk had brought with their food. Fuck it. Either the laundry would get it out or he'd replicate a new one.

"I don't recommend fucking her, by the way. But that's shitting precious, her trying to grease the wheels and set up some goddamn action."

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk cocked an eyebrow.

"Hadn't planned on it," he said. "She seemed a little concerned about what you might be doing to me against my will and I'm not into that. Or having anything else cut off. But I thought I might scare him, at least. Can't be any good, a sickbay with hysterical nurses."

[sharpestscalpel]

The last vestiges of his headache were chased away by the protein. And possibly by the crispness of the replicated cucumbers. One damn thing the replicator did well at least.

"She's taken to you better than expected." It was interesting, really. McCoy hadn't considered how the nurses would feel about the incursion of Kirk - he didn't consider things on that level. "You ain't got to fucking tell me on that one, Jesus shitting Christ in a goddamn bed pan."

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk wondered what he'd expected, little family that they were. He wondered if McCoy had thought about this at all, bringing him in here, setting up... fuck, housekeeping was the only way to put it. How much was Kirk's insinuation into his life, and how much was McCoy's particular quirks?

He spooned some of the sauce into his mouth, eager for every last drop though he wasn't going to start licking the dish at this point.

"Can't hurt to let him know someone's watching, win a few points with the nurses, add some bite to the rumors," he said. It did mean he'd be tied to sickbay more fully, if word got out, and he tried to think about whether that would matter. Whether it'd be more than he was already. It did announce him as a protector, which all things considered, his appearance could benefit from. "Martens is a fuckup anyway, and Chapel's..." He trailed off. "I don't know." There was something about her. "She gave me socks."