3 Kirk/McCoy Ficlets (PG-13)
These were all written for the drinks themed Flash Challenge over at jim_and_bones. The latter two are AUs and trying to convince me that they want to be fleshed out more.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 331
Prompt: Dog's Nose
The very small part of Leonard's brain that's awake on the cold December morning registers the door creaking open and the soft padding of footsteps across the carpet, heading towards the bed. Leonard loosens his death grip on the heavy quilt as the mattress sinks under the weight joining him, tucking against Leonard's back, and then forcing him all the way awake when a cold, wet nose is pressed behind his ear.
"Jim, what the hell!?" No matter what Jim might say later, Leonard did not yelp.
"I went for a run; it's raining," Jim replies, his hands feeling cool even through Leonard's shirt, and Leonard will shove him off the bed if Jim so much as thinks about touching his bare skin with them. He's still nuzzling against Leonard, though, Jim's nose traveling across the back of his neck and raising a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
"Come to Iowa for break, Bones, you said."
"Winter without snow is still really fucking weird," Jim mumbles. He seems to have warmed up since he's no longer trying to actively steal Leonard's body heat. At least his nose feels dry; if Leonard had wanted something cold and wet nuzzling against him, he would've gotten a dog. "At least it's not sleet."
That, Leonard has to concede, is definitely a valid point. It probably would've been raining in Georgia, anyway, but Leonard's not going to tell Jim that. Not when, instead of taking it, he's contributing to the warmth. His hands slip under the waist of Leonard's flannel pants, palms resting against hips. It's not sexual, just comfortable, and it had been one of many surprises early on that Jim Kirk is such a goddamn cuddler.
He may be fully awake now, but Leonard doesn't feel much like moving. Not that he could, anyway, as Jim's fallen back asleep if the snuffling breaths puffing against the side of Leonard's face are anything to go by.
Maybe Iowa isn't so bad after all.
+
Word Count: 389
Prompt: Sea Breeze
There's a stiff wind blowing in their favor, finally giving them the speed they need to return to port. There had been a detour from their assignment resulting in the discovery of the hulking battleship they'd fought and barely got away from alive. Kirk needs to give this message in person. The testimony of the civilian they were able to rescue should be enough to clear him and his crew from any potential charges of mutiny.
That is assuming he'll talk, Kirk sighs.
Kirk returns to his cabin, bringing bread and water for his guest. The man has looked green as long as Kirk's known him, and he's not even sure if the doctor will be able to keep what Kirk has down.
"Some fresh air will help," Kirk offers. The man hasn't spoken since he's come on board, so Kirk isn't surprised when he remains silent, but he is disappointed. "Between the heat, the salt, and not being able to keep any water down, you'll dehydrate real quick. I know you're a doctor, so you must understand better than most what that'll do to a man."
The beard and sheen of sweat on the doctor's face do nothing to hide the hesitance and then the reluctant acquiescence. Kirk smiles openly, wanting the other man to know he's someone that can be trusted. Kirk has no idea how long he was on that other ship, though, and what happened to him while he was on it. Trust might not be something he feels capable of anymore.
It's busy on deck with the usual hustle and bustle of his crew, and Kirk can sense the doctor pausing, but he doesn't hang in the doorway. He stays on Kirk's heels, and Kirk is glad that his crew follow his example and don't comment on the doctor actually leaving the captain's quarters.
"You know, Sawbones, if you don't at least tell me your name, I'm going to have to make one up for you." He watches the doctor take small bites of the bread, and it's at least something that his stomach is settled enough that he isn't becoming immediately sick.
They stand on the quarterdeck in a silence that belies the activity around them as Kirk's crew tries to push the ship to get back to port as quickly as possible.
+
Word Count: 634
Prompt: Ward Eight
Leonard knows that if he looked over at Jim, he would see that he has a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and is sitting ramrod straight. But Leonard doesn't, because he can tell that Jim is nervous enough as it is, and he doesn't need to make Jim even more so by looking at him every two seconds.
Doesn't mean he doesn't want to, though.
"We don't have to do this today," he says instead, keeping his eyes out the window as they drive further from the city. He does look over at Jim when minutes pass with nothing but the sound of the engine running. His jaw is clenched in a tense line. "Jim?"
"There'll never be a better time," Jim responds after running his tongue over his lips, words that could've been said optimistically instead coming out like the world is about to end.
After about an hour of driving, they're in the mountains, going through a small town before Jim slows, turns, and enters a driveway for a five-story building that looks like it could be a hotel or an apartment complex. There's trees and gardens out front, but there's no sign of other people until they pull into a parking spot in a small lot with about a dozen or so other cars, including a minibus with Beechwood Residential printed on the side.
Jim puts the car in park and removes the key from the ignition. He turns to Leonard, offering the most half-assed smile he's ever seen. "Come on, Bones, let's get this over with."
It's only once they get inside that the entire situation fully dawns on Leonard, hitting him like a punch in the gut, and it's no wonder anymore the way Jim's been acting. They sign in at the front desk before being handed visitor passes that give them access to go upstairs, and Jim seems to be walking the halls on rote memory until they stop in front of a room on the third floor. Jim gives him a look like he's trying to give Leonard an out before swiping his card and pushing the door open.
The first thing Leonard notices is the drawings all over the walls, done in various colors of Crayon. They aren't really drawings, though, more like blueprints or schematics, with neat notes labeling different sections with a name, size, and function. He takes them all in before noticing the wispy woman with faded blonde hair sitting on a bed, completely concentrated on her latest drawing.
Jim clears his throat. "Hey, Mom."
She looks up from her pad of paper, face completely brightening. "Jimmy!" she exclaims, putting her work down. Leonard tries to remember what he can from his psych rotation in med school, but as she gets out of bed to hug her son tight, Leonard can't pick up any signs that the woman in front of his is anything other than lucid and completely functioning. "So who's your friend?"
"Leonard McCoy," Leonard says, offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kirk."
"Please, call me Winona," she replies, shaking it with a surprisingly firm grip.
Leonard looks at Jim, and he still doesn't seem relaxed. He looks anxious, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Leonard notices how Jim is looking anywhere but at the drawings, and he really can't help but want to know about them. "These are really interesting, Winona. Are you an engineer?"
"Bones…" Jim starts, the warning clear in his voice.
"Oh, Jimmy, it's fine." Winona's still smiling, and it's easy to see the resemblance. "No, I'm not an engineer; I drew all of these from memory." She pauses, and Jim looks like he wants to go hide somewhere. "See, that's the ship that killed Jimmy's father in 2233."
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 331
Prompt: Dog's Nose
The very small part of Leonard's brain that's awake on the cold December morning registers the door creaking open and the soft padding of footsteps across the carpet, heading towards the bed. Leonard loosens his death grip on the heavy quilt as the mattress sinks under the weight joining him, tucking against Leonard's back, and then forcing him all the way awake when a cold, wet nose is pressed behind his ear.
"Jim, what the hell!?" No matter what Jim might say later, Leonard did not yelp.
"I went for a run; it's raining," Jim replies, his hands feeling cool even through Leonard's shirt, and Leonard will shove him off the bed if Jim so much as thinks about touching his bare skin with them. He's still nuzzling against Leonard, though, Jim's nose traveling across the back of his neck and raising a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
"Come to Iowa for break, Bones, you said."
"Winter without snow is still really fucking weird," Jim mumbles. He seems to have warmed up since he's no longer trying to actively steal Leonard's body heat. At least his nose feels dry; if Leonard had wanted something cold and wet nuzzling against him, he would've gotten a dog. "At least it's not sleet."
That, Leonard has to concede, is definitely a valid point. It probably would've been raining in Georgia, anyway, but Leonard's not going to tell Jim that. Not when, instead of taking it, he's contributing to the warmth. His hands slip under the waist of Leonard's flannel pants, palms resting against hips. It's not sexual, just comfortable, and it had been one of many surprises early on that Jim Kirk is such a goddamn cuddler.
He may be fully awake now, but Leonard doesn't feel much like moving. Not that he could, anyway, as Jim's fallen back asleep if the snuffling breaths puffing against the side of Leonard's face are anything to go by.
Maybe Iowa isn't so bad after all.
+
Word Count: 389
Prompt: Sea Breeze
There's a stiff wind blowing in their favor, finally giving them the speed they need to return to port. There had been a detour from their assignment resulting in the discovery of the hulking battleship they'd fought and barely got away from alive. Kirk needs to give this message in person. The testimony of the civilian they were able to rescue should be enough to clear him and his crew from any potential charges of mutiny.
That is assuming he'll talk, Kirk sighs.
Kirk returns to his cabin, bringing bread and water for his guest. The man has looked green as long as Kirk's known him, and he's not even sure if the doctor will be able to keep what Kirk has down.
"Some fresh air will help," Kirk offers. The man hasn't spoken since he's come on board, so Kirk isn't surprised when he remains silent, but he is disappointed. "Between the heat, the salt, and not being able to keep any water down, you'll dehydrate real quick. I know you're a doctor, so you must understand better than most what that'll do to a man."
The beard and sheen of sweat on the doctor's face do nothing to hide the hesitance and then the reluctant acquiescence. Kirk smiles openly, wanting the other man to know he's someone that can be trusted. Kirk has no idea how long he was on that other ship, though, and what happened to him while he was on it. Trust might not be something he feels capable of anymore.
It's busy on deck with the usual hustle and bustle of his crew, and Kirk can sense the doctor pausing, but he doesn't hang in the doorway. He stays on Kirk's heels, and Kirk is glad that his crew follow his example and don't comment on the doctor actually leaving the captain's quarters.
"You know, Sawbones, if you don't at least tell me your name, I'm going to have to make one up for you." He watches the doctor take small bites of the bread, and it's at least something that his stomach is settled enough that he isn't becoming immediately sick.
They stand on the quarterdeck in a silence that belies the activity around them as Kirk's crew tries to push the ship to get back to port as quickly as possible.
+
Word Count: 634
Prompt: Ward Eight
Leonard knows that if he looked over at Jim, he would see that he has a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and is sitting ramrod straight. But Leonard doesn't, because he can tell that Jim is nervous enough as it is, and he doesn't need to make Jim even more so by looking at him every two seconds.
Doesn't mean he doesn't want to, though.
"We don't have to do this today," he says instead, keeping his eyes out the window as they drive further from the city. He does look over at Jim when minutes pass with nothing but the sound of the engine running. His jaw is clenched in a tense line. "Jim?"
"There'll never be a better time," Jim responds after running his tongue over his lips, words that could've been said optimistically instead coming out like the world is about to end.
After about an hour of driving, they're in the mountains, going through a small town before Jim slows, turns, and enters a driveway for a five-story building that looks like it could be a hotel or an apartment complex. There's trees and gardens out front, but there's no sign of other people until they pull into a parking spot in a small lot with about a dozen or so other cars, including a minibus with Beechwood Residential printed on the side.
Jim puts the car in park and removes the key from the ignition. He turns to Leonard, offering the most half-assed smile he's ever seen. "Come on, Bones, let's get this over with."
It's only once they get inside that the entire situation fully dawns on Leonard, hitting him like a punch in the gut, and it's no wonder anymore the way Jim's been acting. They sign in at the front desk before being handed visitor passes that give them access to go upstairs, and Jim seems to be walking the halls on rote memory until they stop in front of a room on the third floor. Jim gives him a look like he's trying to give Leonard an out before swiping his card and pushing the door open.
The first thing Leonard notices is the drawings all over the walls, done in various colors of Crayon. They aren't really drawings, though, more like blueprints or schematics, with neat notes labeling different sections with a name, size, and function. He takes them all in before noticing the wispy woman with faded blonde hair sitting on a bed, completely concentrated on her latest drawing.
Jim clears his throat. "Hey, Mom."
She looks up from her pad of paper, face completely brightening. "Jimmy!" she exclaims, putting her work down. Leonard tries to remember what he can from his psych rotation in med school, but as she gets out of bed to hug her son tight, Leonard can't pick up any signs that the woman in front of his is anything other than lucid and completely functioning. "So who's your friend?"
"Leonard McCoy," Leonard says, offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kirk."
"Please, call me Winona," she replies, shaking it with a surprisingly firm grip.
Leonard looks at Jim, and he still doesn't seem relaxed. He looks anxious, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Leonard notices how Jim is looking anywhere but at the drawings, and he really can't help but want to know about them. "These are really interesting, Winona. Are you an engineer?"
"Bones…" Jim starts, the warning clear in his voice.
"Oh, Jimmy, it's fine." Winona's still smiling, and it's easy to see the resemblance. "No, I'm not an engineer; I drew all of these from memory." She pauses, and Jim looks like he wants to go hide somewhere. "See, that's the ship that killed Jimmy's father in 2233."