background story - Fixing Bruises, Fixing Bones (Kirk/McCoy)
Some background for Jim and Leonard, written by kirktastic and dctr_mccoy.
Friday nights were dangerous. Saturday nights less so, but still, there was always a chance.
Tuesdays were generally safe.
Leonard could come back from class, picking up some dinner or make himself something quick and simple in his room before beginning his evening readings, reviewing charts, and studying his alien physiology texts. He could rest safe in the knowledge that there would be no banging at the door at odd hours, no one breaking in slipping in while he was asleep, no need to have his medical bag full of pain medicine, bandages, and various other medical devices that, strictly speaking, had been liberated from the infirmary without permission.
Tuesday nights were not 'Jim' nights.
Except this was Tuesday and the middle of the night and there was someone banging at the door. Dragging himself out of bed, Leonard pressed the button to let him in. There was only one 'him' it could be. No surprise that he was right; there was James Kirk standing in the doorway, grinning sheepishly. He was in the bright blue shirt he had stolen from Leonard all those weeks ago, his meal ticket to being in the building with his copied ID card and not being noticed. "...Hey, Leo," in a quiet, almost sheepish voice that meant he knew Leonard was going to be pissed. Specially if the bruises on his face said anything.
Leonard stood for moment before opening the door wider to let the other man in. He silently took inventory of the damage he could see - lacerations on his face, bruising already, and his hand, Jim was cradling his hand carefully. Fuck, the kid had some death wish when it came to his hands...
"Go sit over there," he grumbled, pointing to his bed as he opened the closet door and pulled out the bag with his extra supplies.
Jim sat down on the bed, his face briefly contorting as probably his ribs complained with the motion, "Nice weather we're having, huh doc?" he said in a tone as easily as if ... well, discussing the weather.
"Tell me where it hurts," Leonard began, taking Jim's face in his hands as he lifted the chin slightly, looking into his eyes. No concussion, it didn't look like, but the bruises were going to be real nice ones, unless he could get the swelling down soon.
"Most? My hand. Um, my ribs, and I got clipped in the jaw pretty good," Jim murmured, "I think one of my teeth is loose." He opened his mouth and there was still crimson staining the inside as he visibly wiggled his front right canine.
Leonard took the hand carefully in his, feeling the broken bones, small and fragile. He took a deep breath - this was pretty serious damage. "How'd this happen, Jim?" he asked, needing to know before he decided how to fix this - if he could - here in his dorm room.
Jim was biting hard on the inside of his lip as Leonard took the hand, trying not to make a sound. "Was sparring with Morrison. Wasn't too bad until he missed and landed on my hand." His voice was starting to sound strained, as if actually looking at his hand was making the pain a reality. "Also right as my backfist hit his temple. I... sortofkindoflefthimunconscious." The last part came out in a rush.
"You left him unconscious? Is he still there?" Leonard asked incredulously, reaching for his comm device. Left his friend unconscious on a field. Great, Jim.
"Um, maybe?"
Fuck... Leonard gently lowered Kirk's hand, aiming a scowl at Jim as he settled it in his lap as he began quickly scrolling through his device. Yeah, Beauchamp was on duty tonight. "Where did you leave him?" he growled, glancing back up at Jim.
"That big grassy area out in back of the east command wing that's supposed to be used for simulations." It seemed to actually took Jim a moment to even remember where they had met up.
A few moments later and after managing to convince the resident on duty to send someone to the grassy area Jim had mentioned (quietly and without alerting anyone), Leonard looked for the small tool he used to reset bones. "This is gonna take a bit of time," he told Jim. "It's not as powerful as the ones they have in the infirmary, and frankly, these bones have been hurt way too many times before to mend quickly."
Taking the osteogenerator, Leonard attached it to the inside of Jim's hand, and using Jim's free hand, pressed it close. "Hold this," he told him tiredly, as he stood, rummaging around the bag again. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad you hurt right now?"
For a moment, it seemed like Jim might lie before he muttered, "Probably about an eight." Considering his hatred for hypos, and Jim definitely acted like a pissed off cat about them, it meant Jim had to actually be in some serious pain to admit that. He was staring down at his hand, frowning unhappily at the tiny bones that weren't currently aligned correctly, as if he could scowl them back into shape.
Hmm, that's what he thought, wondering how the kid managed to walk all the way over here with a severely fractured hand. "Look down."
And Jim listened, an even more telling sign he was actually hurting.
Leonard pressed the hypo into the soft area of Jim's skin, close to a major artery, ensuring the medication hit the blood quickly. "Give that a minute," he said, recalling the list of injuries that Jim had mentioned. "Okay, here, let me..." He reached for the bottom of Jim's shirt. "Let me help you take this off, okay?"
Jim was silent for a moment, probably an effect of the pain relief finally hitting his system, before he nodded, "Yea... yea..." The question was, considering the cuts on his face, how had Jim gotten the shirt on with a broken hand? If he had been wearing it during the spar, it would have been dirty, with blood on it. Fuck, that must have hurt like hell, changing shirts, Leonard told himself as he carefully removed the osteoregenerator, placing it on the bed next to Jim, and slowly began sliding the shirt up and over Jim's head, wincing at the look of pain when the kid lifted his arms.
Definitely the spreading bruise on his jaw, probably from a haymaker considering the location and ripples where the knuckles would have hit, was the ugliest outside of the broken hand. His left ribs looked bruised but not fractured amazingly, and he had cuts along the side of his face from probably hitting the ground, maybe a corner of something, and a few spatterings of bruises on his arms that were in various degrees of levels of healing from past hand to hand classes. Jim's breathing was a bit on the shallow side, a side effect of the bruised ribs and trying to ease pressure off them.
In short, Kirk was a mess.
Leonard placed the osteoregenerator back in Jim's hand, using his other free hand to hold it in place again while he pulled out his scanner. "I'm gonna check out your side, just to be safe." Taking his scanner, he ran it lightly down Jim's left side, then back up his right. Nothing broken, but breathing wasn't going to be easy, sleeping even harder on that left side. "Where you staying tonight?" he asked in a low voice.
In the last few weeks, Jim was much like a stray cat. Coming by only when he wanted to, sometimes to get fed, sometimes to curl up for the night, often to get patched up. He was heavy into the hand to hand and armed combat classes which shouldn't even have been available to someone of his level in the academy, and more often then not, bar fights. Kid seemed to go looking for trouble. "Got nothing lined up." He was using his tongue to fiddle with the loose tooth more, "Was going to find somewhere after the spar.
"Staying here tonight, okay? This hand..." Leonard shook his head. "This hand is in bad shape, and I oughta drag your ass to a real hospital where someone can heal it properly. This -" he pointed at the small osteoregenerator - "is gonna take some time tonight, cause there is a lot wrong with this hand. So just..." he sighed. "Just- get comfortable, you hear? Take your shoes off, lean back while I clean up your face."
"Kay, doc," Jim muttered, toeing off his shoes and very slowly laying back on the bed. He went quiet, never a good sign for Jim. With his shirt off, it was easy to see that even only about a month after their first meeting, Jim was losing weight. Leonard didn't say anything, wondered what had happened to that deal the kid had worked out with that diner where he was eating.
The look on Jim's face, though... Don't ask, Len, he told himself. Don't fuckin' ask, give him some dignity. "Let me see," Leonard said quietly, checking out the readings from the device. Working, but slow, achingly slow.
It took a moment to realize that Jim was on his bed. He'd forgotten where he'd told the kid to sit, and now... fuck if he was gonna make him move, now that Jim was sitting back and as comfortable as he was going to get with a broken hand and that much bruising on his left side. Slowly disinfecting and sealing the cuts on Jim's face, Leonard asked, "How have classes been?" as casual as if Jim had been at his office, or the infirmary.
"Same old, same old," Jim murmured, his eyes closed as he let Leonard work. "Tested out of the courses that they originally put me in so I could 'catch up' because I didn't go to college," spoken with an obvious disgust.
"Makes sense... you're a little older than some of these kids," Leonard answered in his doctor voice, even and calm while he lifted the chin with one finger. Jim opened his eyes and once again Leonard was startled once more by their shade - there were about ten distinct colors in there, all blended together. "But the ones you are in - they interesting at least?"
Jim met Leonard's eyes clearly, staring up to him in that same guileless way that came with the package of the younger man. He smirked just slightly, showing the edges of white teeth, "Oh definitely. Can't complain about them. How 'bout you, doc?" There was something almost like sarcasm in his voice that was somehow mixed neatly with a full dose of curiosity.
Leonard didn't answer for a minute, finishing with the smaller injuries to Jim's face, then reattached that loose tooth. Putting down the small device on his night table, he sighed softly to himself, thinking about Jim's question. How was he doing? He opened his mouth to spout out some vague pleasantry when he heard himself answer honestly - "I'm still here, so I suppose that's somethin'..."
A brow rose on Jim's face, looking almost surprised, "...Doesn't sound like a real happy existence to me." He sounded a bit puzzled under the still heavy flavoring of sarcasm.
"I'm not hear to be happy, kid, I'm here to get a job," was Leonard's answer, said with a sort of matter-of-fact tone. "Four years here then five years up there and then I'll be able to set myself up a nice practice anywhere."
With that bit of information, Jim briefly bit his lip before asking, "So then... what were you doing before you-- joined Starfleet?" The hesitation was glaringly obvious in what Jim was skipping over, the bit he had learned in the shuttle.
"Worked with my dad, had a little family practice." Leonard looked over Kirk's shoulder at a spot on the wall. He shrugged, looked around the small dormitory room. "And now I'm here." The grim smile he gave Jim said that he didn't think much of his new accommodations.
The look on Jim's face definitely said that he wanted to ask more questions about 'dad' and 'little family practice' but kept himself quiet about it, "Here we both are," he stated dryly, closing his eyes.
Yeah. Leonard was lost in thought there a moment, going inside his head as he really thought about how far his life had come in such a few months. This time last year he was living in an apartment in Atlanta, most of his money going to lawyers and Jocelyn, seeing Jo every Wednesday night and Saturday mornings, the only times in the week he was completely sober, living on take-out and fucking one of the nurses from his office every Friday night. His life had been in a complete tailspin, everything he thought would be there forever gone in a flash.
Yet as he looked around the dorm, still empty and bare, the only mess being remnants of Chinese take-out left out in the kitchen area, Leonard wasn't exactly sure this was a change for the better.
Take-out... "Hey, you hungry?" Leonard asked, standing as he headed to toward the food. "I've got some left over Kung Pao."
"Mmm?" His eyes opened, and a grin spread over his lips. "And you'll feed me too? Man, it's my lucky night." He shifted, putting his good hand behind his head to pillow it.
Leonard laughed aloud at that one. "Yeah, cold Chinese and a busted hand, that sounds like a good time to me." He heated up the food, tossing a fork onto the plate and brought it over to the bed where Jim was sitting, settling next to him. "How we gonna do this... okay, you hand me that," he said pointing at the osteoregenerator, taking it from Jim's hand, "and you take this," placing the fork in Jim's good hand, "and I'm gonna set this plate here," perching it precariously on Jim's lap. "Please do not spill this all over my bed."
"I'll be good," Jim promised with a soft laugh, eating very carefully and trying not to so much as twitch his broken hand. There was a long silence as Jim chewed, then he said through a mouthful, "I think that's what you do best, you know," completely out of no where.
Leonard watched him eat for a moment, then picked up the osteo device. He held Jim's broken hand carefully in his own, pressing the small machine against Jim's still sore hand. "Just a bit longer," he lied. Would be another hour, at least. Fuck, should have just taken him to the infirmary, would have been the smart thing to do, he'd be all patched up by now - but they'd just gotten to a place where Jim would come by when he really needed something, and even, on occasional, just to say hi or hang out for a bit.
The old adage of luring closer and closer the stray cat seemed appropriate here, and dragging him against his will to the clinic would have been a huge step backward in their tentative friendship. For some reason, Leonard found himself worrying about this kid.
Wait, what? "What's what I do best?" Leonard asked, forehead furrowing in confusion.
"Fix me." There was a looseness about the words that spoke of the pain killers in Jim's system, a sort of detached look in his eyes. "Fix bruises, fix bones." There was a hesitation, and Jim laughed, looking up to Leonard, "Maybe 'cuz that's all you've got left. Bones."
Leonard wondered if he'd given Jim a bit too much pain medication. "What are you talkin' about?" he murmured, wondering what he meant by that. "You know," Leonard aimed a grim eye at Jim, "I wouldn't have to spend so much time fixing you if you didn't have this death wish with fighting."
"It was just an accident." Jim reminded him, "It was supposed to be just a friendly spar and all." He tried to flex one of his injured fingers and let out a weak gasp. "Oh, oh fuck that's painful still."
"That left one of you unconscious, and the other one with a broken hand," Leonard retorted back. "And yeah, it's gonna be a bit longer, so just finish eating, okay?"
"Still was an accident," came the mutter in reply, "Yes, mother." Jim popped a piece of the kung pao into his mouth, smirking just slightly. Despite the pain killers there was obviously still pain etching lines around his eyes, the corners of his mouth.
"People get killed in accidents, Jim," he said, softer than he meant to, just... it was hard to be angry at him when he looked so damned broken like that. Tried to put up the brave front but fuck, couldn't be that way all the time, and Jim'd let slip just enough from his past to worry Leonard, really worry about him.
Still cradling Jim's hand, Leonard flipped it carefully, moving the small machine to the other side, his thumb absently stroking his wrist as he held it there. "You still thinking of going command track?"
Jim nodded slightly in response, breathing out through his nose before answering, "Yea. I think I'm gonna take up tactical too and see which one suits me but... fuck, command just calls to me," he grinned lazily.
Leonard twitched inwardly at the idea of this half-wild creature commanding a starship, except that Jim was smart. Really smart, Leonard learning a little more each time what sort of uneven education the kid had picked up, most of it on his own. Tactical, he could see without a doubt, Jim was a scrapper. But command?
Meh... it was all still years down the road, who knew what would happen in the next four years. "What else you been up to?" Leonard wondered, stifling a yawn. Classes tomorrow would be fucking painful unless he dosed himself up with a stim, and he hated that shit.
The yawn must have been caught by his patient curled up in his bed like a cat because Jim was forcing himself off the bed, good hand hanging onto the finished plate in his lap. "Get some sleep, Bones." He swayed a little as he stood, probably light headed if the flicker of his eyelids was any sign.
"Get your ass back down there," Leonard told him roughly, not catching the nickname, too busy trying to keep Jim from fucking up the work he'd done on his hand. "Just - just sit there, okay? We're not done, and it's gonna be a little bit longer and I've got that other bed over there, don't worry about me. Just -" - frustration, with an underlying but obvious note of genuine worry - "we need to get this hand fixed. All right?"
"I can sit in that bed just as easy, you know," Jim gave Leonard a long look, but slowly sat back down. His eyes closed for a moment as his head swayed. "Whoa."
"Yeah," Leonard answered, picking up the hypo and waving it at Jim. "You said 'eight', so I dosed you for nine, cause you lie like a three-legged dog when it comes to how bad you're hurtin'. So just lay there and let me fix you." The words were softer toward the end, but the look on his face still said he wasn't taking any shit.
A quiet whine came from Jim and he laid back, giving a particularly good view of his stomach as his shirt rode up without his notice. "Well, it's hitting a lot more like a big bear or something instead of a dog." He closed his eyes, teeth showing as a breath hissed through his teeth.
Leonard's hand reached out to touch Jim's head gently, pushing a strand of hair out of the way with his free hand, the other still working on Jim's fingers. "Shhhh," he said, sitting next to Jim. "Just relax. Only a bit longer," he told him softly. "You try and catch some sleep while those pain meds will let you, this is gonna be real sore in the morning."
"Dun wanna sleep." Jim grumbled, his head shifting towards the hand touching it. "Wanna go out and get drunk and chase women." Definitely the effects of the pain killer talking.
"Yeah, I know," Leonard rolled his eyes at the sleepy man. "But no, not tonight."
Jim waved his free hand, "'Kay then let's go get women and chase drunks!"
Leonard reached out to turn out the lamp by his bed, the room now mostly dark, Jim in shadows. "Fine, we'll go do that, once your hand is better. You just rest now, you here?"
A quiet whine escaped Kirk and he flopped his hand out in Bones' direction. "Night," in a quiet voice that was very reminding of a child in the darkness.
Dammit Jim, he thought to himself, taking that other hand in his. Stop hurting yourself. Find a place to live already, you don't have to live like a street rat anymore. All that shit in his past, whatever it was that led Kirk here, it was all gone now, but the kid couldn't let go. Still saw himself as that punk-ass bar brawler back in Riverside Fucking Iowa, couldn't see the Starfleet command track cadet he was becoming. Couldn't see the captain he could be. Fuck...
But Leonard couldn't tell him that, couldn't show him that. Fuck, he needed to fix his own goddamned life before he worried about anyone else's.
A minute later it was quiet, except for the sound of their breathing and the gentle whir of the osteoregenerator. "Jim?" he whispered.
"...mmm?" came the sleepy sound from the blond asleep on the bed.
Leonard let go of one hand to tug the blanket up and over Kirk's legs, and grabbed a pillow to lean against. One more peek at the regenerator - maybe twenty more minutes. "Night, Jim."
When Leonard woke again - when had he fallen asleep? - light was streaming into the room. His legs were hanging off the bed and he was very warm. The warmth definitely seemed to be coming from the fact that there was a very warm body curled up against his like he was some giant body pillow, and said warm body was drooling on his chest, expression looking peaceful and content.
Fuck... McCoy's mind drifted back to that first - no, that second meeting, when Kirk had offered to blow him as thanks for his offer of a place to stay. Right now they were tangled in a strange way, as if they'd clung to each other some time in the night, and it was occurring to him that there wasn't any easy way to extricate himself without waking up Jim. Fuck...
And he was drooling... ug. Leonard began sliding off the bed, one arm wrapping around Jim to keep him from shifting too much as he attempted to slip out from under him. The arms around him tightened as Jim kept him close, trying to keep his source of warmth close... or at least his pillow.
Two choices, the way Leonard saw it. One, he could extricate himself from this bed, get showered and dressed and still might be late to the classes. Two, he could skip the classes, double up on the reading tonight, and go back to sleep for a few hours.
Surprisingly, it wasn't a hard decision. He reached over for a pillow and pulled it under his head, trying to make himself more comfortable. Jim looked comfortable enough, Leonard wasn't worried about him. Better yet, he was sleeping well, his chest rising and falling, not showing any discomfort from the bruised ribs. He leaned against his pillow, one hand reaching over to touch Jim's hand, the one that had been broken last night. Sleepily, he ran a finger across the top of that hand. No swelling, he thought, that's good, before closing his eyes again and falling into the light dream-like state.
It felt so strangely comforting, the notion that they were wrapped around each other never really entered his head. Not until much later, anyway.
When he woke up again, Jim was no longer curled up to Leonard. In fact, he was gone entirely, and so was another of Bones' brilliant blue unmarked shirts. There was, however, a slowly blinking light of a recorded message waiting for Leonard. The sun was bright outside, letting him know that he'd slept entirely too long - but stretching, he knew he'd needed it. Too many long days followed by long nights and he was going to burn out.
Wiping his mouth, Leonard reached for the communicator and pressed 'play'.
Bones,
Didn't want to miss class. Later. There's food in your fridge.
JTK
Indeed, there was a small jug of milk and a large sandwich waiting for Leonard in the small fridge. How the hell did he get that in here? Leonard thought, half-wondering if he'd been hit with a sedative. Or maybe he'd really been that tired, and something about Jim being around relaxed him, which seemed paradoxical. Jim Kirk meant trouble. Slightly entertaining, but trouble nonetheless.
Leonard hit the play button again. Bones? he wondered, shaking his head. Fucking kid... Leonard's patient was turning into his only real friend here in California. Leonard trusted that Jim was okay now, healed, and in the back of his head, hoped it wouldn't be too long before they saw each other again.
Friday nights were dangerous. Saturday nights less so, but still, there was always a chance.
Tuesdays were generally safe.
Leonard could come back from class, picking up some dinner or make himself something quick and simple in his room before beginning his evening readings, reviewing charts, and studying his alien physiology texts. He could rest safe in the knowledge that there would be no banging at the door at odd hours, no one breaking in slipping in while he was asleep, no need to have his medical bag full of pain medicine, bandages, and various other medical devices that, strictly speaking, had been liberated from the infirmary without permission.
Tuesday nights were not 'Jim' nights.
Except this was Tuesday and the middle of the night and there was someone banging at the door. Dragging himself out of bed, Leonard pressed the button to let him in. There was only one 'him' it could be. No surprise that he was right; there was James Kirk standing in the doorway, grinning sheepishly. He was in the bright blue shirt he had stolen from Leonard all those weeks ago, his meal ticket to being in the building with his copied ID card and not being noticed. "...Hey, Leo," in a quiet, almost sheepish voice that meant he knew Leonard was going to be pissed. Specially if the bruises on his face said anything.
Leonard stood for moment before opening the door wider to let the other man in. He silently took inventory of the damage he could see - lacerations on his face, bruising already, and his hand, Jim was cradling his hand carefully. Fuck, the kid had some death wish when it came to his hands...
"Go sit over there," he grumbled, pointing to his bed as he opened the closet door and pulled out the bag with his extra supplies.
Jim sat down on the bed, his face briefly contorting as probably his ribs complained with the motion, "Nice weather we're having, huh doc?" he said in a tone as easily as if ... well, discussing the weather.
"Tell me where it hurts," Leonard began, taking Jim's face in his hands as he lifted the chin slightly, looking into his eyes. No concussion, it didn't look like, but the bruises were going to be real nice ones, unless he could get the swelling down soon.
"Most? My hand. Um, my ribs, and I got clipped in the jaw pretty good," Jim murmured, "I think one of my teeth is loose." He opened his mouth and there was still crimson staining the inside as he visibly wiggled his front right canine.
Leonard took the hand carefully in his, feeling the broken bones, small and fragile. He took a deep breath - this was pretty serious damage. "How'd this happen, Jim?" he asked, needing to know before he decided how to fix this - if he could - here in his dorm room.
Jim was biting hard on the inside of his lip as Leonard took the hand, trying not to make a sound. "Was sparring with Morrison. Wasn't too bad until he missed and landed on my hand." His voice was starting to sound strained, as if actually looking at his hand was making the pain a reality. "Also right as my backfist hit his temple. I... sortofkindoflefthimunconscious." The last part came out in a rush.
"You left him unconscious? Is he still there?" Leonard asked incredulously, reaching for his comm device. Left his friend unconscious on a field. Great, Jim.
"Um, maybe?"
Fuck... Leonard gently lowered Kirk's hand, aiming a scowl at Jim as he settled it in his lap as he began quickly scrolling through his device. Yeah, Beauchamp was on duty tonight. "Where did you leave him?" he growled, glancing back up at Jim.
"That big grassy area out in back of the east command wing that's supposed to be used for simulations." It seemed to actually took Jim a moment to even remember where they had met up.
A few moments later and after managing to convince the resident on duty to send someone to the grassy area Jim had mentioned (quietly and without alerting anyone), Leonard looked for the small tool he used to reset bones. "This is gonna take a bit of time," he told Jim. "It's not as powerful as the ones they have in the infirmary, and frankly, these bones have been hurt way too many times before to mend quickly."
Taking the osteogenerator, Leonard attached it to the inside of Jim's hand, and using Jim's free hand, pressed it close. "Hold this," he told him tiredly, as he stood, rummaging around the bag again. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad you hurt right now?"
For a moment, it seemed like Jim might lie before he muttered, "Probably about an eight." Considering his hatred for hypos, and Jim definitely acted like a pissed off cat about them, it meant Jim had to actually be in some serious pain to admit that. He was staring down at his hand, frowning unhappily at the tiny bones that weren't currently aligned correctly, as if he could scowl them back into shape.
Hmm, that's what he thought, wondering how the kid managed to walk all the way over here with a severely fractured hand. "Look down."
And Jim listened, an even more telling sign he was actually hurting.
Leonard pressed the hypo into the soft area of Jim's skin, close to a major artery, ensuring the medication hit the blood quickly. "Give that a minute," he said, recalling the list of injuries that Jim had mentioned. "Okay, here, let me..." He reached for the bottom of Jim's shirt. "Let me help you take this off, okay?"
Jim was silent for a moment, probably an effect of the pain relief finally hitting his system, before he nodded, "Yea... yea..." The question was, considering the cuts on his face, how had Jim gotten the shirt on with a broken hand? If he had been wearing it during the spar, it would have been dirty, with blood on it. Fuck, that must have hurt like hell, changing shirts, Leonard told himself as he carefully removed the osteoregenerator, placing it on the bed next to Jim, and slowly began sliding the shirt up and over Jim's head, wincing at the look of pain when the kid lifted his arms.
Definitely the spreading bruise on his jaw, probably from a haymaker considering the location and ripples where the knuckles would have hit, was the ugliest outside of the broken hand. His left ribs looked bruised but not fractured amazingly, and he had cuts along the side of his face from probably hitting the ground, maybe a corner of something, and a few spatterings of bruises on his arms that were in various degrees of levels of healing from past hand to hand classes. Jim's breathing was a bit on the shallow side, a side effect of the bruised ribs and trying to ease pressure off them.
In short, Kirk was a mess.
Leonard placed the osteoregenerator back in Jim's hand, using his other free hand to hold it in place again while he pulled out his scanner. "I'm gonna check out your side, just to be safe." Taking his scanner, he ran it lightly down Jim's left side, then back up his right. Nothing broken, but breathing wasn't going to be easy, sleeping even harder on that left side. "Where you staying tonight?" he asked in a low voice.
In the last few weeks, Jim was much like a stray cat. Coming by only when he wanted to, sometimes to get fed, sometimes to curl up for the night, often to get patched up. He was heavy into the hand to hand and armed combat classes which shouldn't even have been available to someone of his level in the academy, and more often then not, bar fights. Kid seemed to go looking for trouble. "Got nothing lined up." He was using his tongue to fiddle with the loose tooth more, "Was going to find somewhere after the spar.
"Staying here tonight, okay? This hand..." Leonard shook his head. "This hand is in bad shape, and I oughta drag your ass to a real hospital where someone can heal it properly. This -" he pointed at the small osteoregenerator - "is gonna take some time tonight, cause there is a lot wrong with this hand. So just..." he sighed. "Just- get comfortable, you hear? Take your shoes off, lean back while I clean up your face."
"Kay, doc," Jim muttered, toeing off his shoes and very slowly laying back on the bed. He went quiet, never a good sign for Jim. With his shirt off, it was easy to see that even only about a month after their first meeting, Jim was losing weight. Leonard didn't say anything, wondered what had happened to that deal the kid had worked out with that diner where he was eating.
The look on Jim's face, though... Don't ask, Len, he told himself. Don't fuckin' ask, give him some dignity. "Let me see," Leonard said quietly, checking out the readings from the device. Working, but slow, achingly slow.
It took a moment to realize that Jim was on his bed. He'd forgotten where he'd told the kid to sit, and now... fuck if he was gonna make him move, now that Jim was sitting back and as comfortable as he was going to get with a broken hand and that much bruising on his left side. Slowly disinfecting and sealing the cuts on Jim's face, Leonard asked, "How have classes been?" as casual as if Jim had been at his office, or the infirmary.
"Same old, same old," Jim murmured, his eyes closed as he let Leonard work. "Tested out of the courses that they originally put me in so I could 'catch up' because I didn't go to college," spoken with an obvious disgust.
"Makes sense... you're a little older than some of these kids," Leonard answered in his doctor voice, even and calm while he lifted the chin with one finger. Jim opened his eyes and once again Leonard was startled once more by their shade - there were about ten distinct colors in there, all blended together. "But the ones you are in - they interesting at least?"
Jim met Leonard's eyes clearly, staring up to him in that same guileless way that came with the package of the younger man. He smirked just slightly, showing the edges of white teeth, "Oh definitely. Can't complain about them. How 'bout you, doc?" There was something almost like sarcasm in his voice that was somehow mixed neatly with a full dose of curiosity.
Leonard didn't answer for a minute, finishing with the smaller injuries to Jim's face, then reattached that loose tooth. Putting down the small device on his night table, he sighed softly to himself, thinking about Jim's question. How was he doing? He opened his mouth to spout out some vague pleasantry when he heard himself answer honestly - "I'm still here, so I suppose that's somethin'..."
A brow rose on Jim's face, looking almost surprised, "...Doesn't sound like a real happy existence to me." He sounded a bit puzzled under the still heavy flavoring of sarcasm.
"I'm not hear to be happy, kid, I'm here to get a job," was Leonard's answer, said with a sort of matter-of-fact tone. "Four years here then five years up there and then I'll be able to set myself up a nice practice anywhere."
With that bit of information, Jim briefly bit his lip before asking, "So then... what were you doing before you-- joined Starfleet?" The hesitation was glaringly obvious in what Jim was skipping over, the bit he had learned in the shuttle.
"Worked with my dad, had a little family practice." Leonard looked over Kirk's shoulder at a spot on the wall. He shrugged, looked around the small dormitory room. "And now I'm here." The grim smile he gave Jim said that he didn't think much of his new accommodations.
The look on Jim's face definitely said that he wanted to ask more questions about 'dad' and 'little family practice' but kept himself quiet about it, "Here we both are," he stated dryly, closing his eyes.
Yeah. Leonard was lost in thought there a moment, going inside his head as he really thought about how far his life had come in such a few months. This time last year he was living in an apartment in Atlanta, most of his money going to lawyers and Jocelyn, seeing Jo every Wednesday night and Saturday mornings, the only times in the week he was completely sober, living on take-out and fucking one of the nurses from his office every Friday night. His life had been in a complete tailspin, everything he thought would be there forever gone in a flash.
Yet as he looked around the dorm, still empty and bare, the only mess being remnants of Chinese take-out left out in the kitchen area, Leonard wasn't exactly sure this was a change for the better.
Take-out... "Hey, you hungry?" Leonard asked, standing as he headed to toward the food. "I've got some left over Kung Pao."
"Mmm?" His eyes opened, and a grin spread over his lips. "And you'll feed me too? Man, it's my lucky night." He shifted, putting his good hand behind his head to pillow it.
Leonard laughed aloud at that one. "Yeah, cold Chinese and a busted hand, that sounds like a good time to me." He heated up the food, tossing a fork onto the plate and brought it over to the bed where Jim was sitting, settling next to him. "How we gonna do this... okay, you hand me that," he said pointing at the osteoregenerator, taking it from Jim's hand, "and you take this," placing the fork in Jim's good hand, "and I'm gonna set this plate here," perching it precariously on Jim's lap. "Please do not spill this all over my bed."
"I'll be good," Jim promised with a soft laugh, eating very carefully and trying not to so much as twitch his broken hand. There was a long silence as Jim chewed, then he said through a mouthful, "I think that's what you do best, you know," completely out of no where.
Leonard watched him eat for a moment, then picked up the osteo device. He held Jim's broken hand carefully in his own, pressing the small machine against Jim's still sore hand. "Just a bit longer," he lied. Would be another hour, at least. Fuck, should have just taken him to the infirmary, would have been the smart thing to do, he'd be all patched up by now - but they'd just gotten to a place where Jim would come by when he really needed something, and even, on occasional, just to say hi or hang out for a bit.
The old adage of luring closer and closer the stray cat seemed appropriate here, and dragging him against his will to the clinic would have been a huge step backward in their tentative friendship. For some reason, Leonard found himself worrying about this kid.
Wait, what? "What's what I do best?" Leonard asked, forehead furrowing in confusion.
"Fix me." There was a looseness about the words that spoke of the pain killers in Jim's system, a sort of detached look in his eyes. "Fix bruises, fix bones." There was a hesitation, and Jim laughed, looking up to Leonard, "Maybe 'cuz that's all you've got left. Bones."
Leonard wondered if he'd given Jim a bit too much pain medication. "What are you talkin' about?" he murmured, wondering what he meant by that. "You know," Leonard aimed a grim eye at Jim, "I wouldn't have to spend so much time fixing you if you didn't have this death wish with fighting."
"It was just an accident." Jim reminded him, "It was supposed to be just a friendly spar and all." He tried to flex one of his injured fingers and let out a weak gasp. "Oh, oh fuck that's painful still."
"That left one of you unconscious, and the other one with a broken hand," Leonard retorted back. "And yeah, it's gonna be a bit longer, so just finish eating, okay?"
"Still was an accident," came the mutter in reply, "Yes, mother." Jim popped a piece of the kung pao into his mouth, smirking just slightly. Despite the pain killers there was obviously still pain etching lines around his eyes, the corners of his mouth.
"People get killed in accidents, Jim," he said, softer than he meant to, just... it was hard to be angry at him when he looked so damned broken like that. Tried to put up the brave front but fuck, couldn't be that way all the time, and Jim'd let slip just enough from his past to worry Leonard, really worry about him.
Still cradling Jim's hand, Leonard flipped it carefully, moving the small machine to the other side, his thumb absently stroking his wrist as he held it there. "You still thinking of going command track?"
Jim nodded slightly in response, breathing out through his nose before answering, "Yea. I think I'm gonna take up tactical too and see which one suits me but... fuck, command just calls to me," he grinned lazily.
Leonard twitched inwardly at the idea of this half-wild creature commanding a starship, except that Jim was smart. Really smart, Leonard learning a little more each time what sort of uneven education the kid had picked up, most of it on his own. Tactical, he could see without a doubt, Jim was a scrapper. But command?
Meh... it was all still years down the road, who knew what would happen in the next four years. "What else you been up to?" Leonard wondered, stifling a yawn. Classes tomorrow would be fucking painful unless he dosed himself up with a stim, and he hated that shit.
The yawn must have been caught by his patient curled up in his bed like a cat because Jim was forcing himself off the bed, good hand hanging onto the finished plate in his lap. "Get some sleep, Bones." He swayed a little as he stood, probably light headed if the flicker of his eyelids was any sign.
"Get your ass back down there," Leonard told him roughly, not catching the nickname, too busy trying to keep Jim from fucking up the work he'd done on his hand. "Just - just sit there, okay? We're not done, and it's gonna be a little bit longer and I've got that other bed over there, don't worry about me. Just -" - frustration, with an underlying but obvious note of genuine worry - "we need to get this hand fixed. All right?"
"I can sit in that bed just as easy, you know," Jim gave Leonard a long look, but slowly sat back down. His eyes closed for a moment as his head swayed. "Whoa."
"Yeah," Leonard answered, picking up the hypo and waving it at Jim. "You said 'eight', so I dosed you for nine, cause you lie like a three-legged dog when it comes to how bad you're hurtin'. So just lay there and let me fix you." The words were softer toward the end, but the look on his face still said he wasn't taking any shit.
A quiet whine came from Jim and he laid back, giving a particularly good view of his stomach as his shirt rode up without his notice. "Well, it's hitting a lot more like a big bear or something instead of a dog." He closed his eyes, teeth showing as a breath hissed through his teeth.
Leonard's hand reached out to touch Jim's head gently, pushing a strand of hair out of the way with his free hand, the other still working on Jim's fingers. "Shhhh," he said, sitting next to Jim. "Just relax. Only a bit longer," he told him softly. "You try and catch some sleep while those pain meds will let you, this is gonna be real sore in the morning."
"Dun wanna sleep." Jim grumbled, his head shifting towards the hand touching it. "Wanna go out and get drunk and chase women." Definitely the effects of the pain killer talking.
"Yeah, I know," Leonard rolled his eyes at the sleepy man. "But no, not tonight."
Jim waved his free hand, "'Kay then let's go get women and chase drunks!"
Leonard reached out to turn out the lamp by his bed, the room now mostly dark, Jim in shadows. "Fine, we'll go do that, once your hand is better. You just rest now, you here?"
A quiet whine escaped Kirk and he flopped his hand out in Bones' direction. "Night," in a quiet voice that was very reminding of a child in the darkness.
Dammit Jim, he thought to himself, taking that other hand in his. Stop hurting yourself. Find a place to live already, you don't have to live like a street rat anymore. All that shit in his past, whatever it was that led Kirk here, it was all gone now, but the kid couldn't let go. Still saw himself as that punk-ass bar brawler back in Riverside Fucking Iowa, couldn't see the Starfleet command track cadet he was becoming. Couldn't see the captain he could be. Fuck...
But Leonard couldn't tell him that, couldn't show him that. Fuck, he needed to fix his own goddamned life before he worried about anyone else's.
A minute later it was quiet, except for the sound of their breathing and the gentle whir of the osteoregenerator. "Jim?" he whispered.
"...mmm?" came the sleepy sound from the blond asleep on the bed.
Leonard let go of one hand to tug the blanket up and over Kirk's legs, and grabbed a pillow to lean against. One more peek at the regenerator - maybe twenty more minutes. "Night, Jim."
When Leonard woke again - when had he fallen asleep? - light was streaming into the room. His legs were hanging off the bed and he was very warm. The warmth definitely seemed to be coming from the fact that there was a very warm body curled up against his like he was some giant body pillow, and said warm body was drooling on his chest, expression looking peaceful and content.
Fuck... McCoy's mind drifted back to that first - no, that second meeting, when Kirk had offered to blow him as thanks for his offer of a place to stay. Right now they were tangled in a strange way, as if they'd clung to each other some time in the night, and it was occurring to him that there wasn't any easy way to extricate himself without waking up Jim. Fuck...
And he was drooling... ug. Leonard began sliding off the bed, one arm wrapping around Jim to keep him from shifting too much as he attempted to slip out from under him. The arms around him tightened as Jim kept him close, trying to keep his source of warmth close... or at least his pillow.
Two choices, the way Leonard saw it. One, he could extricate himself from this bed, get showered and dressed and still might be late to the classes. Two, he could skip the classes, double up on the reading tonight, and go back to sleep for a few hours.
Surprisingly, it wasn't a hard decision. He reached over for a pillow and pulled it under his head, trying to make himself more comfortable. Jim looked comfortable enough, Leonard wasn't worried about him. Better yet, he was sleeping well, his chest rising and falling, not showing any discomfort from the bruised ribs. He leaned against his pillow, one hand reaching over to touch Jim's hand, the one that had been broken last night. Sleepily, he ran a finger across the top of that hand. No swelling, he thought, that's good, before closing his eyes again and falling into the light dream-like state.
It felt so strangely comforting, the notion that they were wrapped around each other never really entered his head. Not until much later, anyway.
When he woke up again, Jim was no longer curled up to Leonard. In fact, he was gone entirely, and so was another of Bones' brilliant blue unmarked shirts. There was, however, a slowly blinking light of a recorded message waiting for Leonard. The sun was bright outside, letting him know that he'd slept entirely too long - but stretching, he knew he'd needed it. Too many long days followed by long nights and he was going to burn out.
Wiping his mouth, Leonard reached for the communicator and pressed 'play'.
Bones,
Didn't want to miss class. Later. There's food in your fridge.
JTK
Indeed, there was a small jug of milk and a large sandwich waiting for Leonard in the small fridge. How the hell did he get that in here? Leonard thought, half-wondering if he'd been hit with a sedative. Or maybe he'd really been that tired, and something about Jim being around relaxed him, which seemed paradoxical. Jim Kirk meant trouble. Slightly entertaining, but trouble nonetheless.
Leonard hit the play button again. Bones? he wondered, shaking his head. Fucking kid... Leonard's patient was turning into his only real friend here in California. Leonard trusted that Jim was okay now, healed, and in the back of his head, hoped it wouldn't be too long before they saw each other again.