ST XI Fiction: Unexpected Complications (previously untitled)
This is a story I wrote as a "sort of" fill for a request on the kink meme. The request is here: community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink_meme/7137.html
There are some things I just haven't had the nerve to write yet. As always, please feel free to critique away. All comments are very much appreciated!
Also...can't think of a title for this one. I am open to suggestions!
"Jim."
"Leave me alone."
"Jim, you stink."
"Bones, I'm serious. Leave. Me. Alone."
McCoy sighed and pulled a rolling stool over to his friend's bedside. He surveyed Jim's still form with the critical eye of a doctor and the compassionate gaze of a friend. He was laying propped up in a sitting position, but had turned his face away, and was clutching the thin blanket around him in his left hand in a very un-Jim-like manner.
"Come on, Jim. What's the issue here? You had no problem showing off whenever you got the chance at the Academy."
Jim's voice was uncharacteristically tight. "Yeah, well, we're not at the Academy anymore, and I'm not that kid. Just drop it, okay? I'll take a shower when the damn osteogens are done." Hearing real distress in his friend's voice, McCoy reached out and gave Jim's shoulder a gentle squeeze, not missing the tenseness in his body.
"Okay, okay. Just try to relax. I'll be back in a minute." Jim made a noncommittal noise and closed his eyes, the hum of the osteogenerators repairing the damage to Jim's right leg and arm the only other sound in the private room. McCoy exited the room, letting the door slide shut behind him. Christine, and the nurse who had been summarily dismissed from the Captain's presence, were waiting for him.
"Well?" Christine asked, crossed arms expressing her annoyance at the situation. "Is the patient going to allow us to do our job?" McCoy tamped down his own automatic gruff response. They were all tired...amazing how much damage a damn rockslide could do. McCoy still wanted to give a piece of his mind to the crew member on the geological survey team who had deemed the area "safe." He heaved a sigh and headed for the supply storage area.
"Nurse Ellison, you're dismissed from responsibility for the captain for now. Go ahead and take the readings from the others. Let Chapel know if anything seems off."
Christine and the younger woman exchanged glances.
"Yes, Doctor."
"What the hell, Len?" Christine said after Ellison left.
"Just leave it, Chris. I got him for now." McCoy turned his attention back to pulling supplies he would need from the shelves. He could fairly feel the head nurse's ire at his back, but he honestly did not have the strength to deal with it now. He knew he'd have restitution to pay later, but that was later. He could only take so much today. He heard Chapel turn and leave without another word.
Finished gathering the supplies he needed, McCoy made his way back to the private room where Jim was resting. The door slid open and McCoy caught Jim close his eyes quickly, as if to pretend he was asleep. McCoy rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on, don't be such an infant. I know you're not asleep." Jim sighed and shifted, opening his eyes to follow McCoy around the room. "How's your pain?" A quick look at the readings on the biobed would tell him what he needed to know, but he wanted to hear it from the man himself.
"I'm fine," Jim replied shortly. "What're you doing?"
"You're covered in Lt. Carter's blood, alien dirt and pollen and God knows what else from the rock slide, and it took the rescue team 3 hours to reach you in hot as hell temperatures. You can't possibly be comfortable right now, it'll be at least two days before you're going to be able to stand and use your arm, and since you won't let the nurse do her job--"
"Dammit Bones!" Jim cut him off angrily. "Can't you just leave me alone? I'm fine and I can wait." McCoy set the supplies on the counter and turned around. Jim was refusing to look at him, his eyes resolutely on the ceiling, and, once again, he was clutching that blanket with his good hand. Because he had the sense his momma gave him, McCoy recognized that there was something else going on here, and he was starting to have an idea of what the problem actually was. Leaving everything on the counter, he sat back down on the stool at Jim's bedside.
"It's okay to need some help sometimes." Jim shot him a glare that would've had anyone else backing out of the room. It had never worked on McCoy. He just glared back.
"That has nothing to do with it," Jim snapped.
"Then tell me what it has to do with! For god's sake man...we've been friends for years, and I've been your doctor for almost as long. You're hurt and you feel like you've gone rounds with a Klingon...I get that. I even get the fact that you don't want your crew to see you as your less-than-perfect self. I don't get why you're making such a big deal out of this with me. I used to have to threaten you just to get you to put on at least a towel when you came out of the bathroom!"
Jim looked like he was struggling with himself over what to say, and McCoy saw it the instant he gave up.
"Whatever, man. Fine," he mumbled. Then Jim shut his eyes and relinquished his hold on the blanket. Realizing that this was the only concession he was likely to get, McCoy made quick work of preparing the bathing solution and bringing everything to Jim's bedside.
"I'll be fast," McCoy promised, "And then we'll get something to eat. You must be starving." Without opening his eyes, Jim offered a disinterested shrug. Rolling his eyes at his friend's obstinacy, McCoy pulled the soiled blanket off, tossing it to the corner of the room.
Turning back to Jim, he got the surprise of his life...Jim was blushing. Jim was blushing! And not just a little color in his cheeks. His face was red. Choking on your food, someone do the Heimlich, red. McCoy shifted his attention to the biobed's readings...slightly elevated respiration, heartrate, and BP, but nothing dangerous. Nothing was seriously wrong. Jim -- who had never, ever shown any shame, even when he should have -- was discomfited enough to actually blush. In any other situation, it would've been funny.
Deciding any comment, even one made as a gentle rib, would be highly unappreciated right now, McCoy turned to his task. With clinical efficiency he washed away the grime and sweat caked to Jim's skin, only talking to direct a movement...lean left, sit up, and so on. Jim remained stubbornly silent, but at least he was cooperating. His blush had finally started to fade after a little while, until McCoy turned his attention to his waist and legs. The situation was necessarily somewhat intimate, and there was no way McCoy could not notice that Jim was reacting in a very typical male fashion to the tactile stimulation. Jim shifted uncomfortably, face beet red once again. For the first time, his eyes were open, though he still refused to make eye contact, and his uninjured hand was fisted at his side.
"Bones..." he started, humiliation evident, even in that one syllable.
"Jim, it's a natural reaction. If it didn't happen I'd have to check you for impotence." Jim let out a surprised snort of amusement.
"Not likely," Jim replied. McCoy smiled slightly. Who said he didn't have a good bedside manner? He just often chose not to use it, that's all.
"Nearly done. Let me just get a towel to dry off, and a gown..."
Finished, with Jim as clean as he was going to get given the circumstances, dressed, and once again covered, but with a clean blanket this time, McCoy cleared away the used supplies.
"So, what do you want for dinner? I'll get it and I'll eat here too."
"Whatever is fine. No broccoli. Or cauliflower."
"Broccoli and cauliflower are good for you," McCoy answered automatically. He paused a moment, weighing his next words. "Jim...I know you well enough to know something other than a desire to not appear weak in front of the crew was bothering you. If...if you ever want to talk--"
"I know, Bones. Just...I know, okay?"
Knowing it wasn't, Bones inclined his head slightly, not happy with Jim's response, but accepting it for now.
"Okay."