if I don't have you home, we'll have to fight alone
Title: Getting to heaven when you're going down
Author: eonism
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just here for the lulz.
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/McCoy (Star Trek XI)
Word Count: 1,041
Author's Notes: Request fic for tracker_lucifer.
Summary: “You can’t protect me on this one, Bones.” With his battered face and earnest sincerity, Kirk looks his age. In no position to captain a starship or to run off to stop Nero, save the planet and come home a hero. It all seems wrong somehow, but if he knows that, Kirk says nothing.
“So you’re not going to say anything?”
McCoy doesn’t have to turn around to know that Kirk’s in the doorway. Turning around might implicate him in something he’d rather not indulge in. Especially while the medical staff move around Sickbay, sitting as he is in the office he’d inherited sometime between Vulcan and Earth. Scrolling down his PADD, he shakes his head in degrees, and feels somehow like he’s just lost a fight they weren’t having.
“There’s nothing left to say about it.” There hadn’t been when he turned to disappear from the Bridge, on the heels of Kirk and Spock’s plotting and the whiz kid’s dense mathematical equations. He hadn’t anything more to say on the subject, of rescuing Pike or stopping Nero, or even of their running off guns blazing to the Romulan ship on a wing and a prayer, and so he’d retreated back to Sickbay. It was where he was needed, where he could do the most good, if there was anything left to be done at all. “We can’t just sit around on our hands, can we?”
Not with Pike locked up in the belly of the Narada. Not with Nero on his way to plant a black hole in the center of Earth, while Joanna sleeps soundly in her bed in Savannah. But McCoy doesn’t mention that.
The door hisses shut. Behind him McCoy can hear Kirk’s tell-tale sigh, the weight of the other man’s body settling on the desk when he turns to set his PADD down. Kirk tilts his head, a canine sincerity written in the lines of his bruised face. For it McCoy crosses his arms.
“Don’t give me that look, Bones,” the too-young captain says, and McCoy knows he means it. “It’s going to work. Just trust me for once.”
“You know if I hadn’t smuggled you onboard none of this would’ve happened,” McCoy reminds him, if only to say it aloud. Not that he blames himself for this. It wouldn’t help anyway.
“Yeah, then you all would’ve warped into a trap and you’d be dead.”
“Jim-”
“And that’d be way better than this, right?” Kirk shakes his head. “I have to do this, Bones.”
McCoy regards Kirk sharply. “You know what I mean, numb-nuts.”
“Yeah.” The line of Kirk’s mouth lifts, and then falters. “I know.”
A sigh. “So how long?” McCoy ventures, although he knows he doesn’t really want the answer.
“Until Scotty gets set up in Transport?” Kirk shrugs. “Another ten minutes?”
They don’t name names or discuss the specifics. That would make the feeling of dread coiling in the doctor’s belly a solid and tangible thing. So McCoy says nothing, and it’s Kirk’s turn to sigh.
“I had to see you first,” he says, and offers his best I’m so charming now come to bed face. It’s the one he puts on when he’s wrong and McCoy’s right, and in those rare moments he just doesn’t want to debate it anymore. “Needed to make sure you weren’t in here getting yourself twisted about it. Guess I should’ve known better.”
The face doesn’t work.
“You’re going to get killed pulling this shit, kid,” McCoy finds himself saying, in a stupidly paternal way. This day had been coming for years. He’d had known it all along, even if he hadn’t said it. That somehow Kirk would run off to play the hero he swears he isn’t, like the father he never had. It’s in his nature. “You know that.”
“You can’t protect me on this one, Bones.” With his battered face and earnest sincerity, Kirk looks his age. In no position to captain a starship or to run off to stop Nero, save the planet and come home a hero. It all seems wrong somehow, but if he knows that, Kirk says nothing. That’s in his nature, too. “It’s going to work.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“It’s going to work.” The line of Kirk’s mouth arches in a smile. “Trust me.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” Despite himself McCoy sighs, unfolding his arms. “If you fuck up and get yourself splattered on the hull, you can forget about the Romulans. I’ll kill you myself - and then I’ll kill Spock for letting you run off half-cocked.”
“See?” Kirk’s smile broadens. “I’ve got so much to look forward to.” Standing, he moves in on McCoy, who lets him reach up to thumb a line down the line of the doctor’s neck above the collar of his uniform. “So don’t kill yourself worrying about me. I’ll be back, alright?”
“You’d better, or I’ll find something sharp and stab you with it.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Kirk leans in, close the place between them and to kiss the firm line of McCoy’s frowning mouth. Sighing McCoy yields to the ply of lips and the sweep of tongue, fingers gathered in the fabric of Kirk’s shirt. The captain smells like sweat and old dirt and his mouth is soft and wet. It makes McCoy want more than he knows he can have, biting softly at the swell of Kirk’s busted lip, worrying it between his teeth and sucking in a breath. He digs blunt nails through folds of the black shirt to the flesh underneath it, which experience tells him is warm and sensitive to his touch. Instead of undressing Kirk like he wants to, McCoy swallows down on that sharp and hungry feeling, and puts distance between their bruised mouths.
“Go get Pike,” he murmurs under lidded eyes, “Let Spock get shot at, and then you run like hell back here.”
Kirk all but grins. “I will,” he agrees, “just try not to stroke out while I’m gone.”
“Yeah.” With a roll of his eyes McCoy puts a hand to Kirk’s shoulder, nudging him back softly, widening the gap between them. “Now get out of my Sickbay before Spock comes in here looking for you.”
“I will be back, you know.” Moving back to the doorway, Kirk gives him a look that’s meant as a promise. McCoy can only nod.
“Yeah,” he says, as the door slides open and then shut behind Kirk, his body disappearing from view. “I know.”
And for what it’s worth, McCoy believes him.
Author: eonism
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just here for the lulz.
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/McCoy (Star Trek XI)
Word Count: 1,041
Author's Notes: Request fic for tracker_lucifer.
Summary: “You can’t protect me on this one, Bones.” With his battered face and earnest sincerity, Kirk looks his age. In no position to captain a starship or to run off to stop Nero, save the planet and come home a hero. It all seems wrong somehow, but if he knows that, Kirk says nothing.
“So you’re not going to say anything?”
McCoy doesn’t have to turn around to know that Kirk’s in the doorway. Turning around might implicate him in something he’d rather not indulge in. Especially while the medical staff move around Sickbay, sitting as he is in the office he’d inherited sometime between Vulcan and Earth. Scrolling down his PADD, he shakes his head in degrees, and feels somehow like he’s just lost a fight they weren’t having.
“There’s nothing left to say about it.” There hadn’t been when he turned to disappear from the Bridge, on the heels of Kirk and Spock’s plotting and the whiz kid’s dense mathematical equations. He hadn’t anything more to say on the subject, of rescuing Pike or stopping Nero, or even of their running off guns blazing to the Romulan ship on a wing and a prayer, and so he’d retreated back to Sickbay. It was where he was needed, where he could do the most good, if there was anything left to be done at all. “We can’t just sit around on our hands, can we?”
Not with Pike locked up in the belly of the Narada. Not with Nero on his way to plant a black hole in the center of Earth, while Joanna sleeps soundly in her bed in Savannah. But McCoy doesn’t mention that.
The door hisses shut. Behind him McCoy can hear Kirk’s tell-tale sigh, the weight of the other man’s body settling on the desk when he turns to set his PADD down. Kirk tilts his head, a canine sincerity written in the lines of his bruised face. For it McCoy crosses his arms.
“Don’t give me that look, Bones,” the too-young captain says, and McCoy knows he means it. “It’s going to work. Just trust me for once.”
“You know if I hadn’t smuggled you onboard none of this would’ve happened,” McCoy reminds him, if only to say it aloud. Not that he blames himself for this. It wouldn’t help anyway.
“Yeah, then you all would’ve warped into a trap and you’d be dead.”
“Jim-”
“And that’d be way better than this, right?” Kirk shakes his head. “I have to do this, Bones.”
McCoy regards Kirk sharply. “You know what I mean, numb-nuts.”
“Yeah.” The line of Kirk’s mouth lifts, and then falters. “I know.”
A sigh. “So how long?” McCoy ventures, although he knows he doesn’t really want the answer.
“Until Scotty gets set up in Transport?” Kirk shrugs. “Another ten minutes?”
They don’t name names or discuss the specifics. That would make the feeling of dread coiling in the doctor’s belly a solid and tangible thing. So McCoy says nothing, and it’s Kirk’s turn to sigh.
“I had to see you first,” he says, and offers his best I’m so charming now come to bed face. It’s the one he puts on when he’s wrong and McCoy’s right, and in those rare moments he just doesn’t want to debate it anymore. “Needed to make sure you weren’t in here getting yourself twisted about it. Guess I should’ve known better.”
The face doesn’t work.
“You’re going to get killed pulling this shit, kid,” McCoy finds himself saying, in a stupidly paternal way. This day had been coming for years. He’d had known it all along, even if he hadn’t said it. That somehow Kirk would run off to play the hero he swears he isn’t, like the father he never had. It’s in his nature. “You know that.”
“You can’t protect me on this one, Bones.” With his battered face and earnest sincerity, Kirk looks his age. In no position to captain a starship or to run off to stop Nero, save the planet and come home a hero. It all seems wrong somehow, but if he knows that, Kirk says nothing. That’s in his nature, too. “It’s going to work.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“It’s going to work.” The line of Kirk’s mouth arches in a smile. “Trust me.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” Despite himself McCoy sighs, unfolding his arms. “If you fuck up and get yourself splattered on the hull, you can forget about the Romulans. I’ll kill you myself - and then I’ll kill Spock for letting you run off half-cocked.”
“See?” Kirk’s smile broadens. “I’ve got so much to look forward to.” Standing, he moves in on McCoy, who lets him reach up to thumb a line down the line of the doctor’s neck above the collar of his uniform. “So don’t kill yourself worrying about me. I’ll be back, alright?”
“You’d better, or I’ll find something sharp and stab you with it.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Kirk leans in, close the place between them and to kiss the firm line of McCoy’s frowning mouth. Sighing McCoy yields to the ply of lips and the sweep of tongue, fingers gathered in the fabric of Kirk’s shirt. The captain smells like sweat and old dirt and his mouth is soft and wet. It makes McCoy want more than he knows he can have, biting softly at the swell of Kirk’s busted lip, worrying it between his teeth and sucking in a breath. He digs blunt nails through folds of the black shirt to the flesh underneath it, which experience tells him is warm and sensitive to his touch. Instead of undressing Kirk like he wants to, McCoy swallows down on that sharp and hungry feeling, and puts distance between their bruised mouths.
“Go get Pike,” he murmurs under lidded eyes, “Let Spock get shot at, and then you run like hell back here.”
Kirk all but grins. “I will,” he agrees, “just try not to stroke out while I’m gone.”
“Yeah.” With a roll of his eyes McCoy puts a hand to Kirk’s shoulder, nudging him back softly, widening the gap between them. “Now get out of my Sickbay before Spock comes in here looking for you.”
“I will be back, you know.” Moving back to the doorway, Kirk gives him a look that’s meant as a promise. McCoy can only nod.
“Yeah,” he says, as the door slides open and then shut behind Kirk, his body disappearing from view. “I know.”
And for what it’s worth, McCoy believes him.