You had me [FANFIC] -- Star Trek -- Kirk/McCoy
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Title: You Had Me
Pairing: Kirk/mccoy
Rating: pg-13 (for some mild stuff against a wall :P )
Summary: Written for this prompt at the kink meme: "I really need a story where they are admitting their feelings for one another and Kirk says to McCoy, 'You had me at I might throw up on you.'" <--honestly, for once I followed the prompt pretty much exactly.
Warnings: ....Fluff? There's NOTHING bad in this one, really. FLUFF. H/C somewhat in flashbacks
You Had Me
"You..."
Bones was dumbfounded. This, Jim noted, didn't happen every day. In fact, Jim was unexpectedly having trouble thinking of what else to say to follow the rather important thing he had just said...his usual inspiration for the next step of any conversation, which came in the form of a caustic remark from Bones, was startlingly absent. The doctor just stood there, staring at him, his frozen pose oddly comical, with a hypo half loaded in his raised hand, and the other arm reaching around to grab some phial of injection from his pants pocket.
"Bones...? Look, don't even think about giving me a hypo for insanity or some stupid shit like that. Because I'm completely serious. And no one would have to be mentally unstable to notice that you're attractive." Jim laughed slightly, awkwardly, trying to deliver the words with his usual self-assured bravado, and failing miserably. He couldn't turn on the charm when he was this serious. And when it was this important.
"Goddammit, Jim, this just...since when?" Bones queried, frozen tension still held taught in his muscles, even as he set the half-prepped hypo down on the work table, and turned slowly to face Jim.
"I..." Jim stumbled, his tongue suddenly balking at the strain of carrying such solemnity for an extended period of time. Bones was staring at him, all perplexed, questioning eyes, and incredulously quirked eyebrows, and Jim was just waiting for the look to turn accusing or insulted. Maybe. Maybe, he could pull himself together, tell Bones he was just messing around. It was a joke, he wasn't a fag anyway; life, and their friendship, could go back to its usual comfortable rythm. But if Jim didn't sell the story...and he lost Bones...well, there would be no rythm to his life, no melody, no base. Jim would be deaf to it. There would be only the silence, chaotic in its deathly stillness. He'd be alone again with the silence that Bones' voice had miraculously managed to reach him through all those years ago at the academy. Jim shut his mouth.
"Jim. What were you going to say? You know I'm crap at this sensitive shit, but...just spit it out, I mean, it seemed important to you. So." And Bones had turned completely away from the work table, and was awkwardly stepping in closer to Jim. The blonde could feel his usually non-existent personal space (he'd managed to dredge up some sort of awkward zone just for this occasion) collapsing, crumpling to fit the doctor's form. As if the man belonged there, next to Jim, in front of Jim. As if he'd always belonged there. And Jim remembered when he'd known.
He'd been about to say some sap about the first time Bones saved his ass in a bar fight, or let Jim pretend not to cry against the doctor's shoulder after Claire had dumped him and maliciously 'accidentally' failed to return those notes on the upcoming command-track cadet exams that Jim had leant her.
He could have told Bones about that first time Jim had come back to the room, to find the doctor sitting alone, a tumbler of whiskey in clutched forlornly in his hand, and his wallet open to the flap with the picture of Joanna, the old-fashioned photo still tucked firmly underneath the protective plastic as if Bones was scared it was too fragile to touch.
Then there was that night, when they'd both been drunk out of their minds. It had been Jim's birthday, and Bones, being his usual crass, but unintentionally caring and observant self had done the only thing he could think of to cheer Jim up. And they'd stumbled out of that last bar, four in the morning, and no hover taxis on the street, and Jim had been leaning on Bones or maybe it was Bones leaning on Jim, and Jim wasn't positive on how exactly it happened, but somehow he'd ended up pressed against the archaic brick wall on the corner of the block, in the shadow next to bar door with the dim light and the smoke from the establishment trailing tentative tendrils into the darkness, and with Bones' tongue in his mouth. And Bones' knee between his legs, and those damned dexterous fingers, the fingers of a surgeon, steady even when drunk, threading through his hair, sneaking under his clothes, practically wrenching moans from him with doctorly precision. Jim remembered shivering from the cold, and then from something else, and feeling completely safe, even on a dark san-francisco street corner at four am, because Bones was there and wrapped warmly around him.
But really, he'd known before all of that. He'd probably known, subconsciously, since he was born; destiny or some shit. But the moment when it had really hit him the first time, when he was tired and groggy, alone on his way away from everything he knew, not much more to his name than jeans, jacket, and a t-shit stiff with sweat and stained with his own blood, that moment had been unmistakable.
"Bones." Jim swallowed, then felt himself steady, drawing on some hidden strength that he never noticed he had. "You had me at 'I may throw up on you.'" Jim finished, feeling his voice hit the low part of his register, as he almost whispered the words.
"Oh." It wasn't a caustic remark, so Bones wasn't comfortable with the situation. But at least it was something. Jim stared Bones searchingly in the face for one more moment, before dropping his gaze. The doctor's expression was, for once, blank.
"Jim..." Jim closed his eyes, preparing for Bones' attempt at a kind letdown. It would be painful: attempt was almost an inadequet description of what happened when Bones was trying to be nice. Instead of the apology, or Bones' voice at all, Jim was surprised to find warm, cautious lips against his, with an undertone of the slight scratch of stubble. His eyes snapped open, and it was all Jim could do to keep from squeaking embarrassingly, as he found Bones' face, just inches from his own. The doctor was looking at him, almost as if asking 'was that okay?' Jim wanted to punch the air, and shout, and jump up and down, but he comforted himself with familiarity, licking his lips (slightly embarrassed as he noticed the way Bones' eyes tracked the path of his tongue) and making the first remark that popped into his head.
"You need a shave-Mmph!" Jim was interrupted by Bones' mouth covering his once again, and now the docter's hands were cradling the sides of his face, gentle but commanding. Jim melted into it, feeling like a pathetic sop (and not really caring) for thinking that 'his heart felt like it might burst.' What else could he do? The damned irresistable guy had had him at 'I may throw up on you.'
END
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Did you get cavities? The sugary fluff....-.-
OKAY BOTH THE 5 TIMES JIM LAY BACK AND THOUGHT OF STARFLEET, AND THE AU FIC will be updated soon. I hope in the next week. Life is just really really busy, and I have to get ready for Kumoricon. durr.
O YAH, ANYONE WANNA MEET UP AT KUMORICON?
Title: You Had Me
Pairing: Kirk/mccoy
Rating: pg-13 (for some mild stuff against a wall :P )
Summary: Written for this prompt at the kink meme: "I really need a story where they are admitting their feelings for one another and Kirk says to McCoy, 'You had me at I might throw up on you.'" <--honestly, for once I followed the prompt pretty much exactly.
Warnings: ....Fluff? There's NOTHING bad in this one, really. FLUFF. H/C somewhat in flashbacks
You Had Me
"You..."
Bones was dumbfounded. This, Jim noted, didn't happen every day. In fact, Jim was unexpectedly having trouble thinking of what else to say to follow the rather important thing he had just said...his usual inspiration for the next step of any conversation, which came in the form of a caustic remark from Bones, was startlingly absent. The doctor just stood there, staring at him, his frozen pose oddly comical, with a hypo half loaded in his raised hand, and the other arm reaching around to grab some phial of injection from his pants pocket.
"Bones...? Look, don't even think about giving me a hypo for insanity or some stupid shit like that. Because I'm completely serious. And no one would have to be mentally unstable to notice that you're attractive." Jim laughed slightly, awkwardly, trying to deliver the words with his usual self-assured bravado, and failing miserably. He couldn't turn on the charm when he was this serious. And when it was this important.
"Goddammit, Jim, this just...since when?" Bones queried, frozen tension still held taught in his muscles, even as he set the half-prepped hypo down on the work table, and turned slowly to face Jim.
"I..." Jim stumbled, his tongue suddenly balking at the strain of carrying such solemnity for an extended period of time. Bones was staring at him, all perplexed, questioning eyes, and incredulously quirked eyebrows, and Jim was just waiting for the look to turn accusing or insulted. Maybe. Maybe, he could pull himself together, tell Bones he was just messing around. It was a joke, he wasn't a fag anyway; life, and their friendship, could go back to its usual comfortable rythm. But if Jim didn't sell the story...and he lost Bones...well, there would be no rythm to his life, no melody, no base. Jim would be deaf to it. There would be only the silence, chaotic in its deathly stillness. He'd be alone again with the silence that Bones' voice had miraculously managed to reach him through all those years ago at the academy. Jim shut his mouth.
"Jim. What were you going to say? You know I'm crap at this sensitive shit, but...just spit it out, I mean, it seemed important to you. So." And Bones had turned completely away from the work table, and was awkwardly stepping in closer to Jim. The blonde could feel his usually non-existent personal space (he'd managed to dredge up some sort of awkward zone just for this occasion) collapsing, crumpling to fit the doctor's form. As if the man belonged there, next to Jim, in front of Jim. As if he'd always belonged there. And Jim remembered when he'd known.
He'd been about to say some sap about the first time Bones saved his ass in a bar fight, or let Jim pretend not to cry against the doctor's shoulder after Claire had dumped him and maliciously 'accidentally' failed to return those notes on the upcoming command-track cadet exams that Jim had leant her.
He could have told Bones about that first time Jim had come back to the room, to find the doctor sitting alone, a tumbler of whiskey in clutched forlornly in his hand, and his wallet open to the flap with the picture of Joanna, the old-fashioned photo still tucked firmly underneath the protective plastic as if Bones was scared it was too fragile to touch.
Then there was that night, when they'd both been drunk out of their minds. It had been Jim's birthday, and Bones, being his usual crass, but unintentionally caring and observant self had done the only thing he could think of to cheer Jim up. And they'd stumbled out of that last bar, four in the morning, and no hover taxis on the street, and Jim had been leaning on Bones or maybe it was Bones leaning on Jim, and Jim wasn't positive on how exactly it happened, but somehow he'd ended up pressed against the archaic brick wall on the corner of the block, in the shadow next to bar door with the dim light and the smoke from the establishment trailing tentative tendrils into the darkness, and with Bones' tongue in his mouth. And Bones' knee between his legs, and those damned dexterous fingers, the fingers of a surgeon, steady even when drunk, threading through his hair, sneaking under his clothes, practically wrenching moans from him with doctorly precision. Jim remembered shivering from the cold, and then from something else, and feeling completely safe, even on a dark san-francisco street corner at four am, because Bones was there and wrapped warmly around him.
But really, he'd known before all of that. He'd probably known, subconsciously, since he was born; destiny or some shit. But the moment when it had really hit him the first time, when he was tired and groggy, alone on his way away from everything he knew, not much more to his name than jeans, jacket, and a t-shit stiff with sweat and stained with his own blood, that moment had been unmistakable.
"Bones." Jim swallowed, then felt himself steady, drawing on some hidden strength that he never noticed he had. "You had me at 'I may throw up on you.'" Jim finished, feeling his voice hit the low part of his register, as he almost whispered the words.
"Oh." It wasn't a caustic remark, so Bones wasn't comfortable with the situation. But at least it was something. Jim stared Bones searchingly in the face for one more moment, before dropping his gaze. The doctor's expression was, for once, blank.
"Jim..." Jim closed his eyes, preparing for Bones' attempt at a kind letdown. It would be painful: attempt was almost an inadequet description of what happened when Bones was trying to be nice. Instead of the apology, or Bones' voice at all, Jim was surprised to find warm, cautious lips against his, with an undertone of the slight scratch of stubble. His eyes snapped open, and it was all Jim could do to keep from squeaking embarrassingly, as he found Bones' face, just inches from his own. The doctor was looking at him, almost as if asking 'was that okay?' Jim wanted to punch the air, and shout, and jump up and down, but he comforted himself with familiarity, licking his lips (slightly embarrassed as he noticed the way Bones' eyes tracked the path of his tongue) and making the first remark that popped into his head.
"You need a shave-Mmph!" Jim was interrupted by Bones' mouth covering his once again, and now the docter's hands were cradling the sides of his face, gentle but commanding. Jim melted into it, feeling like a pathetic sop (and not really caring) for thinking that 'his heart felt like it might burst.' What else could he do? The damned irresistable guy had had him at 'I may throw up on you.'
END
-----------------
Did you get cavities? The sugary fluff....-.-
OKAY BOTH THE 5 TIMES JIM LAY BACK AND THOUGHT OF STARFLEET, AND THE AU FIC will be updated soon. I hope in the next week. Life is just really really busy, and I have to get ready for Kumoricon. durr.
O YAH, ANYONE WANNA MEET UP AT KUMORICON?