Extended Moments II
Title: Extended Moments II
Author: crazywriter10
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG-13 (Swearing)
Word Count: (This part) 1,192
Summary: I had quite a bit of fun writing Reveal, and its sequel, Inked, and something that's been going around in my head for a little while has been to extend those moments in Reveal and make them into something a little more substantial. This is the second one.
Len tugged his wrist out of Jim’s iron grip and hunched over as much as the pain in his chest - bruised ribs, he figured - would allow and swallowed repeatedly to keep the gorge in the back of his throat from rising. And was failing. Epically.
“Bones! We gotta go!” Jim was tugging at his sleeve, trying to get Len upright and moving.
His head pounded; the ground lurched sickeningly, and he looked up at Jim, trying to warn him with his eyes that this wasn’t going to be good.
Len threw up on Jim’s boots before he could get half of the I might throw up on you warning out.
Jim, to his credit, said nothing. Didn’t even flinch. He rubbed his hand over Len’s shoulder, massaging through the dirty medical blue, and waited for Len’s breathing to calm. Len straightened, swerved, and nearly took a header into a nearby tree. Jim grabbed for him and the two of them narrowly missed going down in a tangle of arms and legs. As close as they were, Jim felt more than saw Len’s shoulders hitch as another round of puking came on.
He definitely felt the warmth that seeped through the front of his shirts.
Len staggered back, face flaming and still wobbly. “Jim - I - I…”
“It’s okay, Bones.” Jim ignored his front, more intent on calming his almost hyperventilating friend down. “It’s okay. Let’s just get back to the shuttle, and back to Enterprise, and then your wonderful staff can give you something.” He held his hand out. Len curled his fingers tentatively around Jim’s, not quite ready for Jim to yank him along into a trot again.
Len’s whole body felt like it was on fire by the time they reached the shuttle. Dizzy, half-coherent, and still green around the gills, Len balked at the shuttle door. Jim tried coaxing, cajoling, and straight ordering his friend into it, and finally said that if Len got in the shuttle he could lay down and maybe his head wouldn’t hurt so much. Len tripped on the way in, and since Jim was following behind him, couldn’t keep him from impacting hard off the metal floor.
“Bones? Bones, you good?” Jim asked, crouching by a dusty, blue-clad shoulder, hand pressed in the small of Len’s back.
Len made an incoherent noise somewhere between a growl and a moan. Jim took that as a yes.
“I’m going to get us in the air, okay? I’ll be right up front.” Jim debated the merits of moving Len, and the merits of letting him lay there, and went with the latter. “Just sit tight.”
Jim got the shuttle off the ground by skipping a few protocols that would have had his ass in a sling had his flight instructor from the Academy been there (they weren’t important, anyway, otherwise he’d have done them) and once the shuttle had cleared atmosphere and was on its way back to Enterprise, clambered out of his seat and headed back to look for Len.
Who was missing from the floor where Jim had left him.
Damn it.
Jim ran a hand through his hair. There weren’t many places on a shuttle that a slightly concussed, probably bruised aviophobic CMO was going to hide. It didn’t take long for Jim to settle on the bathroom being the primary place that Len would feel safe. He threaded his way to the bathroom and knocked sharply on the door. “Bones?”
Silence.
Shit. “Bones, you in there?” Jim rapped on the door again and heard nothing. Not even movement. If Bones had somehow crawled in there and then passed out on the floor there wasn’t going to be any way for Jim to get to him unless he bypassed the door lock from the outside and stormed his way in. Which he’d have no problem doing, especially to get to Bones.
But maybe he could talk him out first, since Spock might have his head if he dismantled yet another locking mechanism.
“Bones,” Jim said, appearing for all intents and purposes like he was talking to a door, “I know you’re in there and that you’re scared. It’s okay, though. You can come out. We’re almost back to Enterprise, and when we dock, Chapel’s going to want to see you. Everything’s okay - the shuttle is working fine, the space is on the outside and it’s just me and you on the inside. Everything’s just fine.” He paused, placing his hand on the door and praying that Len said something before he had to work apart a door.
“Jim?”
Jim jumped about a foot in the air and spun, hand dropping to his phaser. Len stood in front of him, grimy, pale, swaying, and upright by sheer force of will alone. “Bones!”
“Why are you talking to a door?”
He blushed; Len blinked once, twice at Jim, and then his eyes rolled back. He crumpled, smacking his head off the deck plating before Jim could even move.
It had definitely been a great day all around.
* * *
Jim hadn’t expected Len to show up for his lesson after all the bitching he’d done about why he didn’t need it, yet there he was, ready to go. And really, Jim hadn’t even had to pull rank to get him to come to a private session on self-defense and hand-to-hand, which meant that while Len had sworn a blue streak, he’d given in fairly easily.
Len held his own through most of it (his day and a half in his own sickbay and then two days completely off that had him chomping at the bit to get back to work had given him a little extra frustration) until Jim managed to flip them so that Len was on his back on the mat, Jim pinning him down effectively. He grunted, rolling his shoulders to gather some leverage; Jim had a fistful of shirtsleeve.
“Watch the shirt,” Len growled, fighting for any spare space. He found a little; the seam parted easily and they both froze. “Damn it, Jim!”
Jim had an expression on his face that could only be summed up with oh, snap while Len’s eyebrow crawled up his forehead from where he was still mostly pinned under Jim’s weight. Len craned his neck to look back and see exactly what the damage was; Jim was focused on the revealed Gothic o that he’d just found like some kid who’s found his favorite marble in the least likely of places.
“Really, Jim? You rip enough shirts on away missions and now you’ve started with mine?”
“Not like I did it on purpose,” he mumbled, trying to subtly get a better look at more of the tattoo.
Len shrugged him off and got to his feet, missing his right shirtsleeve entirely. He growled something about changing and Starfleet Captains who insisted that everybody be naked, and stalked toward the door. Jim sat on the mat with the shirtsleeve, wondering what had just happened, and if Bones was going to keep whatever he had scrawled on his back secret forever.
In a way, it kind of hurt.
Author: crazywriter10
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG-13 (Swearing)
Word Count: (This part) 1,192
Summary: I had quite a bit of fun writing Reveal, and its sequel, Inked, and something that's been going around in my head for a little while has been to extend those moments in Reveal and make them into something a little more substantial. This is the second one.
Len tugged his wrist out of Jim’s iron grip and hunched over as much as the pain in his chest - bruised ribs, he figured - would allow and swallowed repeatedly to keep the gorge in the back of his throat from rising. And was failing. Epically.
“Bones! We gotta go!” Jim was tugging at his sleeve, trying to get Len upright and moving.
His head pounded; the ground lurched sickeningly, and he looked up at Jim, trying to warn him with his eyes that this wasn’t going to be good.
Len threw up on Jim’s boots before he could get half of the I might throw up on you warning out.
Jim, to his credit, said nothing. Didn’t even flinch. He rubbed his hand over Len’s shoulder, massaging through the dirty medical blue, and waited for Len’s breathing to calm. Len straightened, swerved, and nearly took a header into a nearby tree. Jim grabbed for him and the two of them narrowly missed going down in a tangle of arms and legs. As close as they were, Jim felt more than saw Len’s shoulders hitch as another round of puking came on.
He definitely felt the warmth that seeped through the front of his shirts.
Len staggered back, face flaming and still wobbly. “Jim - I - I…”
“It’s okay, Bones.” Jim ignored his front, more intent on calming his almost hyperventilating friend down. “It’s okay. Let’s just get back to the shuttle, and back to Enterprise, and then your wonderful staff can give you something.” He held his hand out. Len curled his fingers tentatively around Jim’s, not quite ready for Jim to yank him along into a trot again.
Len’s whole body felt like it was on fire by the time they reached the shuttle. Dizzy, half-coherent, and still green around the gills, Len balked at the shuttle door. Jim tried coaxing, cajoling, and straight ordering his friend into it, and finally said that if Len got in the shuttle he could lay down and maybe his head wouldn’t hurt so much. Len tripped on the way in, and since Jim was following behind him, couldn’t keep him from impacting hard off the metal floor.
“Bones? Bones, you good?” Jim asked, crouching by a dusty, blue-clad shoulder, hand pressed in the small of Len’s back.
Len made an incoherent noise somewhere between a growl and a moan. Jim took that as a yes.
“I’m going to get us in the air, okay? I’ll be right up front.” Jim debated the merits of moving Len, and the merits of letting him lay there, and went with the latter. “Just sit tight.”
Jim got the shuttle off the ground by skipping a few protocols that would have had his ass in a sling had his flight instructor from the Academy been there (they weren’t important, anyway, otherwise he’d have done them) and once the shuttle had cleared atmosphere and was on its way back to Enterprise, clambered out of his seat and headed back to look for Len.
Who was missing from the floor where Jim had left him.
Damn it.
Jim ran a hand through his hair. There weren’t many places on a shuttle that a slightly concussed, probably bruised aviophobic CMO was going to hide. It didn’t take long for Jim to settle on the bathroom being the primary place that Len would feel safe. He threaded his way to the bathroom and knocked sharply on the door. “Bones?”
Silence.
Shit. “Bones, you in there?” Jim rapped on the door again and heard nothing. Not even movement. If Bones had somehow crawled in there and then passed out on the floor there wasn’t going to be any way for Jim to get to him unless he bypassed the door lock from the outside and stormed his way in. Which he’d have no problem doing, especially to get to Bones.
But maybe he could talk him out first, since Spock might have his head if he dismantled yet another locking mechanism.
“Bones,” Jim said, appearing for all intents and purposes like he was talking to a door, “I know you’re in there and that you’re scared. It’s okay, though. You can come out. We’re almost back to Enterprise, and when we dock, Chapel’s going to want to see you. Everything’s okay - the shuttle is working fine, the space is on the outside and it’s just me and you on the inside. Everything’s just fine.” He paused, placing his hand on the door and praying that Len said something before he had to work apart a door.
“Jim?”
Jim jumped about a foot in the air and spun, hand dropping to his phaser. Len stood in front of him, grimy, pale, swaying, and upright by sheer force of will alone. “Bones!”
“Why are you talking to a door?”
He blushed; Len blinked once, twice at Jim, and then his eyes rolled back. He crumpled, smacking his head off the deck plating before Jim could even move.
It had definitely been a great day all around.
* * *
Jim hadn’t expected Len to show up for his lesson after all the bitching he’d done about why he didn’t need it, yet there he was, ready to go. And really, Jim hadn’t even had to pull rank to get him to come to a private session on self-defense and hand-to-hand, which meant that while Len had sworn a blue streak, he’d given in fairly easily.
Len held his own through most of it (his day and a half in his own sickbay and then two days completely off that had him chomping at the bit to get back to work had given him a little extra frustration) until Jim managed to flip them so that Len was on his back on the mat, Jim pinning him down effectively. He grunted, rolling his shoulders to gather some leverage; Jim had a fistful of shirtsleeve.
“Watch the shirt,” Len growled, fighting for any spare space. He found a little; the seam parted easily and they both froze. “Damn it, Jim!”
Jim had an expression on his face that could only be summed up with oh, snap while Len’s eyebrow crawled up his forehead from where he was still mostly pinned under Jim’s weight. Len craned his neck to look back and see exactly what the damage was; Jim was focused on the revealed Gothic o that he’d just found like some kid who’s found his favorite marble in the least likely of places.
“Really, Jim? You rip enough shirts on away missions and now you’ve started with mine?”
“Not like I did it on purpose,” he mumbled, trying to subtly get a better look at more of the tattoo.
Len shrugged him off and got to his feet, missing his right shirtsleeve entirely. He growled something about changing and Starfleet Captains who insisted that everybody be naked, and stalked toward the door. Jim sat on the mat with the shirtsleeve, wondering what had just happened, and if Bones was going to keep whatever he had scrawled on his back secret forever.
In a way, it kind of hurt.