Lord Monster Part 1
Title: Lord Monster Part 1 (AO3)
Series: Star Trek AOS
Author:neko-fish
Beta: siluria
Pairings: James/Leonard
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Regency!Mirror!Verse. Sent to London in his stepfather's stead, Lord James Kirk expected his trip to be dull and unexciting--that is, until he saw Leonard McCoy.
“My Lord, if you’ll come this way….”
James T. Kirk stifled a yawn as he followed his guide, a stout little man, around the hospital. The sun was setting outside and he was getting bored. But as one of the hospital’s biggest benefactors, his mother and stepfather had insisted on doing an onsite visit to ensure everything was to their standards. Unfortunately, due to some unexpected political turbulence, James was sent to London in their stead.
Christopher Pike was an ambitious man with a passion for the sciences and medicine, a marquis aiming for dukedom. He found an equally ambitious woman in Winona Kirk, who was then a widow and a countess of her own right. With their combined strength and cunning, it was only a matter of time before dukedom became theirs. And James, being the younger son, was more than happy to sit back and watch for the opportunity to snatch the title for himself from both his parents and his brother by whatever means necessary. He had his own small but loyal team of servants at his beck and call, so all he had to do was wait.
He failed to stifle his next yawn.
Having allies in the medical field was always a good move to make whether it was for healing or for getting rid of rivals, James understood that. But that didn’t make the visit any more bearable. His guide and attendant had already spent the whole day showing him the lecture halls, chemistry labs, and everywhere in between. He’d even got to watch a man die on the operating table, which he admittedly found quite amusing if only because of the sheepish and panicked expressions on the surgeon and his apprentice’s faces when they realized he had been watching the entire time.
Deciding that there was nothing the little man could possibly show him that would be of any interest, James was about to cut his visit short in favour of sampling some of London’s…finer goods when a lit room down the hallway caught his eye. “What’s happening down there?” he asked.
“It’s probably just one of our staff preparing class material for their lectures tomorrow, My Lord,” his guide explained.
For some reason, the light spilling out from the partially open door drew him in like a moth to a flame, and he decided to have a look. Not giving his guide a chance to protest or to steer him around, he made his way down the hall with purposeful strides and poked his head through the door.
Lit by the setting sun and gas-fueled lamps, the room was empty save one man standing over an operating table, slicing a cadaver open with care. So immersed in his work, the man didn’t notice the new set of eyes on him. He had short brown hair, plush lips pulled tight and eyebrows knit in concentration. With his overcoat off and sleeves rolled up, he made a long incision down the corpse’s chest and began peeling back the skin and flesh to expose the ribs.
James had never seen a more beautiful sight.
The guide cleared his throat, causing both James and the man to turn their attention to him. James wanted to strangle the little man for interrupting the performance. “Ah, My Lord, I see you found one of our top surgeons and chemists here.”
The man remained silent. Instead of appreciating the compliments paid to him, he was evidently peeved at being interrupted from his work. It was clear that he just barely managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes or sigh-or both. The scowl on his face sent blood rushing down to James’ groin. Unable to see clearly in the low lighting, he wondered what colour those eyes were.
“Mister McCoy,” the guide continued, though there was an underlying warning in his voice, “this is Lord James Kirk, surely you know of him. He is the son of one of our biggest benefactors.” Then more courteously, he turned back to James. “Lord James, this is Mister Leonard McCoy. His father was one of our very best, and Mister McCoy is set to follow in his tracks. We have no doubt that he will be the next John Hunter.”
“My Lord,” McCoy muttered with a stiff nod and open contempt.
James was immediately intrigued. He was quite familiar with working class people and commoners, and he understood that they had a different set of rules for their behaviour, but this was different. How curious.
“What are you doing there, Mister McCoy?” he asked, lips curling upwards into an amused grin.
“I’m preparing material for Doctor Boyce’s anatomy lecture tomorrow,” McCoy replied, voice devoid of all enthusiasm. His tone made it clear that any form of conversation-and their very presence-was unwelcomed. James raised a brow in interest, recognizing the name as his stepfather’s personal physician who’d returned to London to teach for awhile.
“Why isn’t one of Doctor Boyce’s assistants doing this?”
“I offered to do it for him” McCoy answered.
“Why?” the guide asked once more.
Visibly suppressing a sigh, McCoy elaborated with no small amount of reluctance, “I recently heard of a surgical procedure that’s being widely practiced in Prussia and I wanted to properly test it out before practicing it in the examining room. Given our shortage on cadavers, this was the only way I could do it. I’d rather make mistakes on a deceased criminal than on a living person,” then he added as an afterthought, “sir.”
The guide nodded and turned to James with a boastful look on his face. “As you can see, My Lord, our staff are nothing if not dedicated here.”
James hummed in appreciation, eyes never leaving McCoy. “Yes, I can see that. Most dedicated, indeed.”
Uncomfortable with being scrutinized, McCoy cleared his throat and spoke with a shuttered expression on his face, “With all due respect, I need to do my work, and I don’t believe watching me expose the chest cavity of a corpse will be to your taste,” he shot James and his guide a pointed look, “My Lord.”
“Mister McCoy, hold your tongue!”
The open defiance and utter distain in those eyes made James want to take the man raw over the operating table. But a gentleman of his standing couldn’t risk doing something so ill-mannered. Instead, he flashed McCoy a diplomatic smile. “It’s quite alright. I think you’d be surprised to learn otherwise, Mister McCoy. I happen to have a great interest in human anatomy and medical science.” He gestured at the cadaver. “Please, pretend we’re not even here.”
“My Lord?”
He silenced his guide with a wave.
Arching an eyebrow, McCoy shot the guide a confused look. Then he studied James a moment longer as though trying to figure out if he was serious or not, but then after some consideration and with the sun setting, McCoy shrugged to himself and returned to his work. Following James’ suggestion, he paid his audience no further heed.
James crossed his arms and watched in silence, eyes filled with enthralment and lust as those large, steady hands sliced through another layer of flesh and muscle, further exposing the cadaver’s ribs. He turned to his guide. “Would you be so kind as to fetch my carriage? I’m afraid I will have to finish my tour another day. For now, I’d like to watch Mister McCoy finish his work.”
The guide looked uncertain but knew better than to question the son of a marquis. He dipped his head and gave a respectful bow. “Of course, as you’d like, My Lord. Your carriage will be ready and waiting at the entrance whenever you’re finished.”
Before leaving, he shot McCoy a look of warning, cementing James’ suspicion that the man had earned himself a reputation for his attitude. The man must’ve been brilliant if he managed to get away with such insolence-brilliant or very well-connected.
If McCoy noticed the withering look, he didn’t show any sign of it.
At the sound of flesh tearing and parting, James turned back to find McCoy slowly spreading the ribs with steady, almost gentle hands. Wary eyes glanced up at him as though gauging his reaction. Pleased with the effect he had on the man, James smirked. “Does it make you uncomfortable to be left alone with me, Mister McCoy?”
McCoy had the gall to scoff and roll his eyes. “No, My Lord. I just wanted to make sure you don’t pass out like most…gentlemen of your standing would, but clearly, that won’t be an issue with you. If it was your intention to watch someone get cut apart, I would recommend you go to the examining rooms for a better performance.”
He studied the man for a moment before concluding with some amusement, “You think they’re all idiots here.”
“No, I don’t,” was McCoy’s instant reply, half-hearted as it was. He wasn’t even making an effort to makes his words sound genuine.
“Yes, you do,” he refuted. “Why is that?” Then he added with a teasing grin, “I promise I won’t tell the director.”
Ever the honest man, McCoy answered with a mutter of contempt, “I should think it’s obvious. When half the patients end up dead, you’d think they’d realize that something’s wrong. Physicians and surgeons are supposed to save lives, but it’s not happening here as much as it should. The physicians don’t diagnose illnesses correctly, and the surgeons kill people in the examination room. And bloodletting, good lord, the bloodletting.”
Having gone through the treatment on numerous occasions in the past and having hated every moment of it, he blinked and asked, “What about bloodletting? I take it that you don’t approve of the practice? It’s what all the physicians recommend.”
“I know. But think back to the last time you had it done. Did it cure you of whatever ailments you had, or did they just bleed you out until you grew faint and no longer noticed the symptoms?” McCoy asked.
He took a moment to think, never having thought to evaluate its effectiveness before. “I fainted and was bedridden for days,” he recalled. “Are you suggesting that it’s ineffective? That’s quite a bold claim you’re making, Mister McCoy.”
McCoy shrugged. “In my humble opinion, bloodletting does more harm than good, and I refuse to practice it. It’s about as effective as that tobacco smoke enemas obsession everyone went through a couple years ago. I could probably go on all day about all the reasons why bloodletting doesn’t work as a treatment. But who am I to say? I had to beg just to get my hands on a cadaver. Damn shortages.”
It wasn’t right, James thought. McCoy should have access to as many bodies, dead and alive, as he wanted. He made cutting through cold, unfeeling flesh look like a work of art and no artist should ever be deprived of their medium. The idea of McCoy begging though, it sent shivers down his spine. James licked his lips. “I’m sure that’ll change soon enough.”
“What?” McCoy blinked and stared at him in alarm.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard, Kirks are strong supporters of scientific and medical advancement,” he said conversationally. It was a line he often used at dinner parties and banquets. “I daresay, I’m most interested in hearing more about your opinions on bloodletting and the alternative treatments you have in mind, Mister McCoy. Why don’t you come to my residence after you’re finished here? We can have dinner and discuss your concerns in regards to the current medical system and see what kind of…assistance I can offer.”
He could immediately see the cogs in McCoy’s head turning; probably trying to come up with a good enough excuse to decline the proposition. Ah, so the man’s sense of self-preservation was stronger than his ambitions-assuming he had any at all. Strange enough, he lacked the power-starved look that so many others had in their eyes. Any other person would’ve jumped at the opportunity to dine with a man of his status.
With a guarded and distrustful frown, McCoy turned back to the cadaver to avoid further eye contact. He shook his head and replied in a neutral tone, “That’s a most generous offer, but I’m just a surgeon. You should probably take up your concerns with one of our physicians-like Doctor Piper or Doctor Boyce. Surely, with their experience, they’ll have better and more relevant insight into the problems around here,” cautious eyes flickered over at him, “My Lord.”
James’ smile widened, a predatory glint flashed in his eyes. “You’re too modest, Mister McCoy. Judging by our brief conversation just now, I believe your insight to be just as reliable and valuable as any physician here, if not more so.”
“You are too kind, My Lord,” McCoy muttered insincerely. James had never seen such a terrible liar. “I still have quite a bit to do here before I can leave,” he tried again, growing desperate to escape. “I doubt you’ll want to wait for me to finish.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he immediately replied with an offhanded wave. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll just have to take full responsibility for stealing you away a little earlier. I’m sure no one will have a problem if I make the request. You absolutely must join me for dinner.” Then he added, “I insist.”
McCoy tensed, realizing that he’d been effectively trapped. Dropping all pretenses, he gritted his teeth and replied with a strained voice, “Well, if you insist. Who am I to turn down such a…gracious invitation?” Those last two words were so heavily laced with sarcasm and venom, James couldn’t help grinning.
Pleased with how their short-lived but amusing argument turned out, James leaned against the wall and continued watching. He was caught off guard when McCoy suddenly began working with twice the speed and precision than he had earlier. The man was full of surprises. Just when he thought McCoy couldn’t look anymore beautiful cutting into the corpse, he was proven wrong. “Were you deliberately working that slowly earlier?”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, McCoy admitted, “I was hoping you’d get bored and leave me alone.”
Stunned, James let out a sharp bark of laughter, causing the man to look up at him in surprise. “You really are something else, McCoy.”
Scowl deepening at the casualness he was addressed with, McCoy returned to the cadaver. With the chest cavity fully exposed, he wiped down his scalpel and held it over a flame. He then dipped it in one of the solutions laid out on the table before making a cut into the side of the body. He repeated the procedure with different solutions, making incisions down the side of the body, writing down notes after every cut.
Then moving onto the other side of body, he made cuts down the side and sewed them back up before applying a different set of solutions to the cuts. Jotting down more notes, he looked over his cuts and sutures and nodded to himself.
Curious, James asked, “What are you doing now?”
“Research,” was the curt reply he received.
“Research?” he repeated. When he didn’t receive the explanation he was waiting for, he cleared his throat in warning. As entertaining as McCoy’s boldness was, there was only so much disrespect he was willing to put up with before taking matters into his own hands.
McCoy arched an eyebrow, perhaps sensing his irritation. With a suppressed sigh, he tidied his things and began disinfecting them over the flame. “A large number of our patients die from infections that occur after they had their surgeries. I’ve been corresponding with surgeons and doctors on the topic of infections. I want to see if any of these concoctions can ward them off.”
“That’s most impressive,” he said, meaning it.
“It’s not impressive unless I find a way to stop people from dying,” McCoy grumbled. “With our current practices, if you want someone dead, all you have to do is leave their wound, however shallow, untreated. It’s unacceptable.”
The fiery passion in his voice made James blink. “I’m curious. Why did you decide to be a surgeon, McCoy?”
It was McCoy’s turn to blink. He looked at James as if he didn’t understand the question and furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean why? I’m a surgeon because I want to help people.” An unspoken ‘of course’ followed his statement.
“Yes, but you’re clearly an educated and talented man. Why don’t you become a physician instead of harrowing away as a surgeon?” he clarified. “The wages would be higher and the work less…arduous.”
Walking over to a basin of water and began washing his hands with soap, McCoy replied, “I could if I wanted to. But as I said before, I want to help people, and the people who need help usually aren’t those who can afford to send for physicians. Besides, for all their education and university degrees, physicians are quite useless in my opinion. What good is a doctor who’s too much of a gentleman to reset a broken bone or to suture a wound? By the time he sends for a surgeon, the patient might’ve already bled to death.”
“Let’s not forget the bloodletting,” James added helpfully.
Scowling as he shrugged his overcoat back on, McCoy nodded. “And the bloodletting. All physicians do is tell others to do the wrong thing. I’ll admit that some of them might be great doctors, but most of them aren’t, and I want no part of it. I make enough to eke out a living, that’s good enough for me.”
A man with no ambition beyond healing people; how strange and rare. A slow smile spread on James’ lips. “Your reasons seem fair enough. Given your strong penchant for saving lives, I assume you served during the wars?”
McCoy dipped his head, packing up his tools. “Yes, but not willingly.”
He blinked. “Oh? Unwillingly? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m not fond of wars or boats,” the man admitted.
Another laugh escaped him. Two genuine laughs in a single conversation-it was unprecedented. “You are an unusual one. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” McCoy said, though it sounded more like a resigned ‘let’s get this over with.’
James nodded, hand reaching back to make sure his pistols were ready for use. “Let’s go then.”
Arching an eyebrow, McCoy didn’t comment on the firearms and followed him out into the hallway.
At the entrance, the guide was waiting for them, looking surprised that he was leaving with McCoy in tow. He smiled and gestured at the scowling man behind him. “I must say, I was most impressed with Mister McCoy’s work on that cadaver. In fact, he even graciously offered to teach me more about the medical procedures performed here, and I simply couldn’t say no.” His grin widened when he heard McCoy sputtering in indignation and disbelief behind him. “I hope you won’t mind me stealing him away for the rest of the day?”
The little man’s eyes flickered with hesitation from him to McCoy. “No, of course not, please, by all means, go ahead and steal him away, My Lord.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. If all goes well on this trip, you can expect a commendation from the Kirk household. So far, it’s been an absolute delight.” He loved the feeling of having power in his hands-needed it-fed off it like an impoverished child. “Now if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.”
“Of course, My Lord. I’m most pleased to hear that you’re enjoying your visit thus far.” Then shooting McCoy a menacing glare, he gritted out, “And Mister McCoy, I trust you’ll ensure Lord James finds the remainder of his time here most pleasant.”
McCoy didn’t reply; too busy seething at having been trapped by James’ words again. The amount of funding resting on James’ word was enormous-so much so that the hospital’s very existence was at stake. He didn’t want that resting on his shoulders.
Once they got outside, they were greeted by a carriage driven by an Asian man with a boy, no older than seventeen opening the carriage door for them. Both of them were armed. James casually introduced the two, “Sulu, Chekov, meet my guest, Mister McCoy. He’ll be dining with me tonight. Mister McCoy, meet my coachman, Sulu, and my footman, Chekov-don’t let their age fool you, they’re also my best guards.”
Momentarily distracted from his rage, McCoy nodded at the two, thanked the boy and boarded the carriage. When the door closed and he was faced with laughing blue eyes and James’ grinning face once more, the anger returned. “You…you-”
James smirked, challenging him to finish his sentence. “Go on. Is there something you’d like to say to me, Mister McCoy?”
Swallowing down the insult, McCoy hissed, “Why are you doing this? If you want to hear more about the hospital or whatever the hell it is that you want, I’m sure you could find a more willing companion. You’re already acquainted with Doctor Boyce, aren’t you? Why couldn’t you find him instead? Why me?”
He shrugged. “Boyce is my stepfather’s physician, not mine, and I’ve heard what kind of things he has to say. He may be an excellent physician, but he’s hardly interesting enough to keep me entertained.”
“Entertained?” McCoy repeated, scowl deepening. “Entertained? You’re dragging me away from the hospital for your entertainment?”
“Yes, I am,” James answered easily. “Is there a problem?”
McCoy all but exploded at that. “Of course there’s a problem! Good god, man, what if there’s an emergency and people need help?”
The genuine concern made him blink. He had to admit, it wasn’t a tone of voice he was used to hearing and yet it was all he heard from McCoy. Either the man was the greatest actor in the country, or he was the real thing-a healer through and through. James had every intention to find out which he was.
He shrugged again. “There’ll be other surgeons there to help them. And if they really need to reach you, they know where to find you.” They both knew no one would dare interrupt them. Smiling, he added, “I’m sure you’ll find it worth your while to keep me company, McCoy.”
After a pause, McCoy collected himself and turned to look out the window, muttering to himself, “Unbelievable….”
Through the light of the setting sun, James could finally make out the colour of the man’s eyes.
Hazel.
--
At the Kirks’ London estate, McCoy appeared taken aback by their long, in-depth discussion on issues pertaining to the medical practices and sanitization over dinner. Throughout the evening, James’ butler and valet, Spock, served them wine while his housekeeper, Uhura, oversaw the meal. Although the two remained silent, he could feel them studying McCoy with interest. And McCoy, no doubt feeling their prying eyes on him, did his best to feign ignorance though the amount of wine he drank indicated otherwise.
After dinner, he showed McCoy around the estate. “I was impressed that you were able to keep up with the debate,” McCoy told him as they strolled down the hallway. His eyes were slightly glazed and his cheeks were flushed from all the wine he ingested during the meal.
James smiled, watching the man closely, licking his lips in anticipation. “Like I said before, I have a strong interest in medical science.”
“I didn’t think you were serious,” McCoy admitted. “Most of our benefactors just walk around and make sure we’re keeping our scalpels sharp and ready to be used.”
When they arrived at his chambers, he led the man inside with a laugh, successfully distracting him from his immediate surroundings. “It’s a good thing I’m not like most benefactors then, hmm?”
McCoy arched a brow. “I think that’s highly debatable considering how you pulled me from my work just to dine with you.” Once he realized where he’d been led to, he stopped in his tracks and glanced back at the entrance. Wide-eyed and hesitant, he began, “My Lord, I think perhaps I should-”
Pulling him close by the neckcloth, James cut him off with a searing kiss and kicked the door shut. “Call me James, McCoy. And you really must stay the night.” His lips curled into a predatory smirk. “I insist.”
--
The next morning, he had his servants draw up separate baths for him and McCoy. James mentally patted himself on the back when he watched those hazel eyes light up for a brief moment at the thought of taking an actual bath. The look was quickly quelled when McCoy looked over at him and recalled what he went through to earn the luxury. James merely smiled and waved him off, allowing Uhura to lead him to a separate room.
Watching as the footmen and chambermaids emptied their buckets of water into the tub, he reminded himself to consult his chef and resident engineer, Scotty about coming up with a more efficient system. As he soaked in the tub, Spock stood nearby, waiting with a towel. “You know,” he told the stoic man, kicking water up with his feet, “I thought London was going to be a dull and unexciting place.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “Judging by your tone of voice, I assume you have found it otherwise, My Lord?”
No matter how hard he tried or how often he insisted, he couldn’t get the man to address him by anything but ‘My Lord’. After the first few years, he gave up.
“Let’s just say my mind’s been changed.” Just thinking about the way McCoy moaned and growled his name made James want to drag the man back for another round. Stepping out of the tub, he allowed himself to be dried off, not bothering to hide the fact that he was half hard. He wasn’t shy about his body and it wasn’t an unusual occurrence by any means for Spock.
“Shall I inform Missus Uhura that Mister McCoy will be joining us for dinner again tonight?”
He nodded. “I suspect that he’ll be joining me often for the remainder of this trip. Perhaps I’ll appoint him as my personal doctor-provided he’s as good as his reputation suggests.”
After toweling James off, Spock began helping him dress. “You are planning on assigning a surgeon to be your personal physician? I am not sure your mother would approve. Shouldn’t the role be filled by an actual physician?”
Voice momentarily cut off when Spock buttoned up his waistcoat, James waited for the man to finish before continuing, “She’s too concerned with my brother and Pike to bother with me at the moment. That’s the advantage of being the younger son. Besides, a surgeon’s more practical than a physician. And I’m certain McCoy is more than qualified to be a physician, but he chose to turn down the prestige in favour of saving lives. Isn’t that interesting, Spock?”
“Yes. Fascinating, My Lord,” was the only indulgence he received.
Watching Spock tuck his trousers into his boots, he wiggled his toes around uncomfortably. “I really wish these clothes were easier to take off. The amount of time it took me to get myself undressed last night was appalling.”
“I will see if there are any other more practical alternatives that your mother would approve of, My Lord,” Spock told him. “Have you already made plans for today?”
James sighed. “Yes-unfortunately. I have to pay the Marquise of Lansdowne a morning call on behalf of my mother, and I have no doubt she’ll find out if I miss it. Then I also have to look into the matter of getting the hospital more cadavers before I can indulge myself with a barmaid or two.”
Although his servants had been trained and given the strictest instructions to keep household affairs to themselves, he’d long since learnt not to play around with chambermaids or any of the staff-those needed to be disposed of and missing people led to rumours and gossip ,regardless of discipline. With his discretion, the stringent supervision of his upper servants, and the Kirk household’s influence, he had yet to develop a reputation for his…carnal appetite. And he wasn’t worried about McCoy in the least. The man wasn’t one to share his private affairs, and the hospital would sooner keep him quiet by force than risk closing down.
Spock’s eyebrow arched again. “Cadavers? I assume this matter pertains to Mister McCoy?”
He grinned and made his way towards the door. “You’re correct as always, Spock. As you know, Kirks are the most…generous of patrons to those we favour.”
“Indeed,” Spock said with no intonation, following him out into the hallway where they were joined by McCoy and Uhura. Nodding at the woman, he was reminded that he was no stranger to the Kirks’ ‘generosity’.
Looking over at his housekeeper, James asked, “I trust Mister McCoy had a proper bath, Missus Uhura?”
Uhura nodded. “Of course, My Lord.” Even after so many years of service, it was impressive how she still managed to sound so sardonic when addressing him. “He’s quite the gentleman-even had the decency to blush when Gaila and I offered to help him get dressed.”
“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll outgrow his shyness soon enough.”
McCoy shot him an alarmed look at that.
James smiled and asked with exaggerated innocence, “Sulu will be waiting for you outside at sunset. Unfortunately, I have a dinner party I must attend tonight so I won’t be back until after dinner, but you will be joining me for supper tonight, won’t you, Mister McCoy?”
There was a pause. Then, muttering curses under his breath, McCoy narrowed his eyes and scowled. “How could I turn down such a gracious invitation, My Lord?”
Laughing, James gave McCoy a light clap on the shoulder. “Please, when we’re not in public, just call me James.”
He couldn’t get enough of those fierce hazel eyes.
--
When his carriage pulled to a stop near a shoddy looking tavern, James looked around the surrounding area with distaste. He could hear screams and cries from the streets and laughter from the tavern. It was a neighbourhood where every life was expendable-nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold. He nodded at Spock. “I trust you and Chekov can handle this?”
“Naturally, My Lord,” Spock replied and stepped off the carriage with his hood on.
As much as he wanted to go in and take care of the matter himself, he couldn’t risk being seen in public with resurrectionists and tarnishing his reputation. He pulled his hood over his head, hiding his face, when he caught sight of his servants returning with a pair of dirty looking men. It took all the self-control he had not to wrinkle his nose in disgust when the men boarded the carriage. They smelt of filth and alcohol.
“What’s the big idea?” one of them asked.
They were ill-mannered and crude in all the wrong ways, unlike McCoy.
“Gentlemen,” he began with a subtle smile, “I understand you specialize in a very particular…trade I’m interested in….”
Later, after they dropped the men off back at the tavern, James turned to Spock with a slight frown. “I have to admit that that was disappointingly easy. I didn’t even get a chance to wave my pistols around.”
“Given their impoverished states and the amount of money you were offering, their compliance was to be expected, My Lord,” Spock replied with an arched brow.
He sighed. “Yes, of course. It certainly was a lot simpler than dealing with noblemen-even though I’ll need the carriage to be thoroughly cleaned or disposed of just to be rid of the smell they left behind. Actually, let’s go back and switch carriages. I can’t imagine being cooped up with this stench for the rest of the day.”
“As you would like, My Lord.”
“Oh, and Spock?”
“Yes?”
Turning to look out the window, he ordered, “Once they deliver all the bodies, they will have to be disposed of. I doubt the hospital will object to being given two more cadavers for their collection.”
Spock nodded, giving away no emotions. “Of course, My Lord.”
“Don’t you find it ironic how these people will be worth more in death than they ever were when they were alive? Do you think McCoy will appreciate this little gift?” James asked.
“Given Mister McCoy’s strict moral standings, I have my doubts,” Spock replied.
He grinned. “That’s what I thought. I can’t wait to see his reaction.”
--
James wished he had a way to capture McCoy’s expression forever when he heard about the sudden increase in the number of cadavers at the hospital. The man’s face was so expressive that he could spend a week just watching him without getting bored. First, there was curiosity and wariness which then turned into alarm and dread when it was announced that a number of the cadavers would be reserved for his usage only.
It wasn’t the cheapest or the most gratifying thing he’d ever done, but it was definitely worth it just to see such an impressive array of emotions cross McCoy’s face. James took it all in with near-childish delight.
“You…! You did all this, didn’t you? Dammit, man, this is against the law!” McCoy hissed at him once they were alone in an examining room.
He blinked with feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why am I not surprised that you’re the only one raising objections? Isn’t this a good thing, McCoy? Students will have the chance to practice on cadavers now and you get your test subjects for your research.”
“But these were decent people! You can’t just dig them up from their graves!” McCoy protested.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t do such a thing,” James replied, pretending to be affronted by the very idea. “Look, the corpses are already here, McCoy. You can’t very well stuff them back into the ground. And they’re already dead, what can they do? Or are you saying you’d rather be left out of the festivities and choose not to work with any of them?”
McCoy hesitated.
He pressed on, knowing he’d already won the argument. “I happen to recall a certain surgeon saying on my first day here, ‘I’d rather make mistakes on a deceased criminal than on a living person.’ Does that sound familiar to you?” Then he shrugged. “It’s your choice, McCoy. You only have two options here. It’s either you make good use of these corpses or you don’t.”
After a long moment of silence, McCoy sighed in defeat. “Fine.”
“‘Fine?’” James arched a brow in warning, giving the man a second chance.
“…thank you for your most generous contribution, My Lord,” McCoy muttered through gritted teeth.
“That’s better.” He barely kept the laughter out of his voice as he made his way to the door. “Of course, I’ll be looking forward to seeing just how grateful you are later, Mister McCoy.”
Seething, McCoy remained silent.
At the door, James turned around and asked, “Oh, I nearly forgot to ask: will you be in need of…younger cadavers?”
He immediately got the reaction he was hoping for. Hazel eyes widened and the rage on McCoy’s face bled away into a horrified expression.
“Ah,” he said with a slow nod, suppressing a smile, “’I’ll assume that’s a no then.”
--
With his chambers illuminated by moonlight, James studied McCoy’s sleeping form and idly ran a finger over the man’s lips before brushing loose strands of hair out of his face. Unconsciously, McCoy let out a soft sigh and leaned into the touch-something he would never do were he awake, James noted with some amusement.
“Why me?” McCoy had asked him on the first day.
It was a question James was beginning to ponder himself. Weeks had passed and he still sought out the man’s presence almost every evening. Why? While he had to admit that McCoy was a stunning specimen physically, there were many more like him, if not better. James had always enjoyed the company of young, voluptuous barmaids with soft, milky white skin and seductive smiles-he wasn’t sure how he ended up with an older, broad-shouldered surgeon with calloused hands and a constant scowl on his face.
He had to admit that McCoy was a brilliant man, able to hold his own in a conversation covering a wide range of topics. As a surgeon and a chemist, he was unrivalled in his field-although his uncouth manners left something to be desired. With his heart bigger than his status was high or his pockets deep, McCoy was in no position to give, yet he went and gave anyway. It baffled him. An emotional and honest man and a terrible liar, McCoy was as useless to him politically as a person could get.
And to make matters worse, the man was headstrong and ruled by a strict moral code of his own making, which, apparently, didn’t have a section outlining how to behave properly when addressing those above him. James didn’t know why he found such pleasure in McCoy’s insolence. If it had been any other man, he would’ve destroyed their life and reputation without a second thought. After all, the Kirk household didn’t build their reputation on mercy and kindness.
Staring at the sleeping man, he murmured with uncharacteristic softness, “I don’t know, McCoy. Why you?”
--
“It appears that you are getting quite attached to Mister McCoy, My Lord,” Spock noted one morning while tying his cravat.
His immediate reply was a dismissive “Don’t be ridiculous, Spock.”
Eyebrow arching in a chiding manner, Spock retorted, “I am hardly being ridiculous, My Lord. I am merely stating a logical conclusion after sixty-three days of observation.”
James remained silent for a minute. Spock wasn’t one for ridiculousness-ever, which meant that it was a topic of concern to him. Deny it though he might, James knew the man was right. But if it was becoming obvious that it wasn’t a mere passing interest then new problems were bound to arise. It wasn’t a good time to be getting attached.
But then again, as a member of the peerage, there was never a good time to get attached.
Wary blue eyes glanced over at the window. “Is it a weakness?” What he meant to ask was: ‘Will I have to dispose of him?’ If McCoy could be used against him, then he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Kirks simply couldn’t afford to have weaknesses. But if he couldn’t have McCoy, then he’d make sure no one ever would.
He’d never been in such an uncomfortable situation before nor had he ever been so hesitant.
And it was over one measly surgeon who cared too much and whose eyes shone too brightly.
Spock glanced up from helping him put his boots on. “I believe the question you should be asking is ‘Do the benefits outweigh the risks?’ I would suggest that you should assess Mister McCoy’s value before coming to a decision. It isn’t like you to jump to such drastic conclusions so easily, My Lord.”
He mentally scolded himself for being so out of character. It was just an effect McCoy seemed to have on him for some unexplainable reason. Shaking his head to refocus, he made his way to the door. “Of course. Yes…. Yes, you’re right. This is most peculiar. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“I have no comment on the matter,” Spock replied, ever the wise man.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” he said with a thin smile on his lips and made his way to the door. “I’m not a fool. I won’t follow in my father’s footsteps.”
In the hall, he found McCoy waiting for him, impatient and arms crossed. “Took you long enough. I half expected you to come out in breeches and a powdered wig,” was the greeting he received. When he didn’t receive a flirtatious reply like he usually did, McCoy frowned and asked him, “Are you alright, James?”
James nodded. “I’m fine.” Then he curled his lips into a teasing grin. “Could it be that the angels above finally have answered my prayers? Are you worried about me, McCoy?”
Scoffing and rolling his eyes, McCoy muttered, “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, you damn infant.”
He watched the scowling man out of the corner of his eyes and tried to convince himself that he would be able to act accordingly if the occasion arose.
Onto Part 2
Series: Star Trek AOS
Author:neko-fish
Beta: siluria
Pairings: James/Leonard
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Regency!Mirror!Verse. Sent to London in his stepfather's stead, Lord James Kirk expected his trip to be dull and unexciting--that is, until he saw Leonard McCoy.
“My Lord, if you’ll come this way….”
James T. Kirk stifled a yawn as he followed his guide, a stout little man, around the hospital. The sun was setting outside and he was getting bored. But as one of the hospital’s biggest benefactors, his mother and stepfather had insisted on doing an onsite visit to ensure everything was to their standards. Unfortunately, due to some unexpected political turbulence, James was sent to London in their stead.
Christopher Pike was an ambitious man with a passion for the sciences and medicine, a marquis aiming for dukedom. He found an equally ambitious woman in Winona Kirk, who was then a widow and a countess of her own right. With their combined strength and cunning, it was only a matter of time before dukedom became theirs. And James, being the younger son, was more than happy to sit back and watch for the opportunity to snatch the title for himself from both his parents and his brother by whatever means necessary. He had his own small but loyal team of servants at his beck and call, so all he had to do was wait.
He failed to stifle his next yawn.
Having allies in the medical field was always a good move to make whether it was for healing or for getting rid of rivals, James understood that. But that didn’t make the visit any more bearable. His guide and attendant had already spent the whole day showing him the lecture halls, chemistry labs, and everywhere in between. He’d even got to watch a man die on the operating table, which he admittedly found quite amusing if only because of the sheepish and panicked expressions on the surgeon and his apprentice’s faces when they realized he had been watching the entire time.
Deciding that there was nothing the little man could possibly show him that would be of any interest, James was about to cut his visit short in favour of sampling some of London’s…finer goods when a lit room down the hallway caught his eye. “What’s happening down there?” he asked.
“It’s probably just one of our staff preparing class material for their lectures tomorrow, My Lord,” his guide explained.
For some reason, the light spilling out from the partially open door drew him in like a moth to a flame, and he decided to have a look. Not giving his guide a chance to protest or to steer him around, he made his way down the hall with purposeful strides and poked his head through the door.
Lit by the setting sun and gas-fueled lamps, the room was empty save one man standing over an operating table, slicing a cadaver open with care. So immersed in his work, the man didn’t notice the new set of eyes on him. He had short brown hair, plush lips pulled tight and eyebrows knit in concentration. With his overcoat off and sleeves rolled up, he made a long incision down the corpse’s chest and began peeling back the skin and flesh to expose the ribs.
James had never seen a more beautiful sight.
The guide cleared his throat, causing both James and the man to turn their attention to him. James wanted to strangle the little man for interrupting the performance. “Ah, My Lord, I see you found one of our top surgeons and chemists here.”
The man remained silent. Instead of appreciating the compliments paid to him, he was evidently peeved at being interrupted from his work. It was clear that he just barely managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes or sigh-or both. The scowl on his face sent blood rushing down to James’ groin. Unable to see clearly in the low lighting, he wondered what colour those eyes were.
“Mister McCoy,” the guide continued, though there was an underlying warning in his voice, “this is Lord James Kirk, surely you know of him. He is the son of one of our biggest benefactors.” Then more courteously, he turned back to James. “Lord James, this is Mister Leonard McCoy. His father was one of our very best, and Mister McCoy is set to follow in his tracks. We have no doubt that he will be the next John Hunter.”
“My Lord,” McCoy muttered with a stiff nod and open contempt.
James was immediately intrigued. He was quite familiar with working class people and commoners, and he understood that they had a different set of rules for their behaviour, but this was different. How curious.
“What are you doing there, Mister McCoy?” he asked, lips curling upwards into an amused grin.
“I’m preparing material for Doctor Boyce’s anatomy lecture tomorrow,” McCoy replied, voice devoid of all enthusiasm. His tone made it clear that any form of conversation-and their very presence-was unwelcomed. James raised a brow in interest, recognizing the name as his stepfather’s personal physician who’d returned to London to teach for awhile.
“Why isn’t one of Doctor Boyce’s assistants doing this?”
“I offered to do it for him” McCoy answered.
“Why?” the guide asked once more.
Visibly suppressing a sigh, McCoy elaborated with no small amount of reluctance, “I recently heard of a surgical procedure that’s being widely practiced in Prussia and I wanted to properly test it out before practicing it in the examining room. Given our shortage on cadavers, this was the only way I could do it. I’d rather make mistakes on a deceased criminal than on a living person,” then he added as an afterthought, “sir.”
The guide nodded and turned to James with a boastful look on his face. “As you can see, My Lord, our staff are nothing if not dedicated here.”
James hummed in appreciation, eyes never leaving McCoy. “Yes, I can see that. Most dedicated, indeed.”
Uncomfortable with being scrutinized, McCoy cleared his throat and spoke with a shuttered expression on his face, “With all due respect, I need to do my work, and I don’t believe watching me expose the chest cavity of a corpse will be to your taste,” he shot James and his guide a pointed look, “My Lord.”
“Mister McCoy, hold your tongue!”
The open defiance and utter distain in those eyes made James want to take the man raw over the operating table. But a gentleman of his standing couldn’t risk doing something so ill-mannered. Instead, he flashed McCoy a diplomatic smile. “It’s quite alright. I think you’d be surprised to learn otherwise, Mister McCoy. I happen to have a great interest in human anatomy and medical science.” He gestured at the cadaver. “Please, pretend we’re not even here.”
“My Lord?”
He silenced his guide with a wave.
Arching an eyebrow, McCoy shot the guide a confused look. Then he studied James a moment longer as though trying to figure out if he was serious or not, but then after some consideration and with the sun setting, McCoy shrugged to himself and returned to his work. Following James’ suggestion, he paid his audience no further heed.
James crossed his arms and watched in silence, eyes filled with enthralment and lust as those large, steady hands sliced through another layer of flesh and muscle, further exposing the cadaver’s ribs. He turned to his guide. “Would you be so kind as to fetch my carriage? I’m afraid I will have to finish my tour another day. For now, I’d like to watch Mister McCoy finish his work.”
The guide looked uncertain but knew better than to question the son of a marquis. He dipped his head and gave a respectful bow. “Of course, as you’d like, My Lord. Your carriage will be ready and waiting at the entrance whenever you’re finished.”
Before leaving, he shot McCoy a look of warning, cementing James’ suspicion that the man had earned himself a reputation for his attitude. The man must’ve been brilliant if he managed to get away with such insolence-brilliant or very well-connected.
If McCoy noticed the withering look, he didn’t show any sign of it.
At the sound of flesh tearing and parting, James turned back to find McCoy slowly spreading the ribs with steady, almost gentle hands. Wary eyes glanced up at him as though gauging his reaction. Pleased with the effect he had on the man, James smirked. “Does it make you uncomfortable to be left alone with me, Mister McCoy?”
McCoy had the gall to scoff and roll his eyes. “No, My Lord. I just wanted to make sure you don’t pass out like most…gentlemen of your standing would, but clearly, that won’t be an issue with you. If it was your intention to watch someone get cut apart, I would recommend you go to the examining rooms for a better performance.”
He studied the man for a moment before concluding with some amusement, “You think they’re all idiots here.”
“No, I don’t,” was McCoy’s instant reply, half-hearted as it was. He wasn’t even making an effort to makes his words sound genuine.
“Yes, you do,” he refuted. “Why is that?” Then he added with a teasing grin, “I promise I won’t tell the director.”
Ever the honest man, McCoy answered with a mutter of contempt, “I should think it’s obvious. When half the patients end up dead, you’d think they’d realize that something’s wrong. Physicians and surgeons are supposed to save lives, but it’s not happening here as much as it should. The physicians don’t diagnose illnesses correctly, and the surgeons kill people in the examination room. And bloodletting, good lord, the bloodletting.”
Having gone through the treatment on numerous occasions in the past and having hated every moment of it, he blinked and asked, “What about bloodletting? I take it that you don’t approve of the practice? It’s what all the physicians recommend.”
“I know. But think back to the last time you had it done. Did it cure you of whatever ailments you had, or did they just bleed you out until you grew faint and no longer noticed the symptoms?” McCoy asked.
He took a moment to think, never having thought to evaluate its effectiveness before. “I fainted and was bedridden for days,” he recalled. “Are you suggesting that it’s ineffective? That’s quite a bold claim you’re making, Mister McCoy.”
McCoy shrugged. “In my humble opinion, bloodletting does more harm than good, and I refuse to practice it. It’s about as effective as that tobacco smoke enemas obsession everyone went through a couple years ago. I could probably go on all day about all the reasons why bloodletting doesn’t work as a treatment. But who am I to say? I had to beg just to get my hands on a cadaver. Damn shortages.”
It wasn’t right, James thought. McCoy should have access to as many bodies, dead and alive, as he wanted. He made cutting through cold, unfeeling flesh look like a work of art and no artist should ever be deprived of their medium. The idea of McCoy begging though, it sent shivers down his spine. James licked his lips. “I’m sure that’ll change soon enough.”
“What?” McCoy blinked and stared at him in alarm.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard, Kirks are strong supporters of scientific and medical advancement,” he said conversationally. It was a line he often used at dinner parties and banquets. “I daresay, I’m most interested in hearing more about your opinions on bloodletting and the alternative treatments you have in mind, Mister McCoy. Why don’t you come to my residence after you’re finished here? We can have dinner and discuss your concerns in regards to the current medical system and see what kind of…assistance I can offer.”
He could immediately see the cogs in McCoy’s head turning; probably trying to come up with a good enough excuse to decline the proposition. Ah, so the man’s sense of self-preservation was stronger than his ambitions-assuming he had any at all. Strange enough, he lacked the power-starved look that so many others had in their eyes. Any other person would’ve jumped at the opportunity to dine with a man of his status.
With a guarded and distrustful frown, McCoy turned back to the cadaver to avoid further eye contact. He shook his head and replied in a neutral tone, “That’s a most generous offer, but I’m just a surgeon. You should probably take up your concerns with one of our physicians-like Doctor Piper or Doctor Boyce. Surely, with their experience, they’ll have better and more relevant insight into the problems around here,” cautious eyes flickered over at him, “My Lord.”
James’ smile widened, a predatory glint flashed in his eyes. “You’re too modest, Mister McCoy. Judging by our brief conversation just now, I believe your insight to be just as reliable and valuable as any physician here, if not more so.”
“You are too kind, My Lord,” McCoy muttered insincerely. James had never seen such a terrible liar. “I still have quite a bit to do here before I can leave,” he tried again, growing desperate to escape. “I doubt you’ll want to wait for me to finish.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he immediately replied with an offhanded wave. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll just have to take full responsibility for stealing you away a little earlier. I’m sure no one will have a problem if I make the request. You absolutely must join me for dinner.” Then he added, “I insist.”
McCoy tensed, realizing that he’d been effectively trapped. Dropping all pretenses, he gritted his teeth and replied with a strained voice, “Well, if you insist. Who am I to turn down such a…gracious invitation?” Those last two words were so heavily laced with sarcasm and venom, James couldn’t help grinning.
Pleased with how their short-lived but amusing argument turned out, James leaned against the wall and continued watching. He was caught off guard when McCoy suddenly began working with twice the speed and precision than he had earlier. The man was full of surprises. Just when he thought McCoy couldn’t look anymore beautiful cutting into the corpse, he was proven wrong. “Were you deliberately working that slowly earlier?”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, McCoy admitted, “I was hoping you’d get bored and leave me alone.”
Stunned, James let out a sharp bark of laughter, causing the man to look up at him in surprise. “You really are something else, McCoy.”
Scowl deepening at the casualness he was addressed with, McCoy returned to the cadaver. With the chest cavity fully exposed, he wiped down his scalpel and held it over a flame. He then dipped it in one of the solutions laid out on the table before making a cut into the side of the body. He repeated the procedure with different solutions, making incisions down the side of the body, writing down notes after every cut.
Then moving onto the other side of body, he made cuts down the side and sewed them back up before applying a different set of solutions to the cuts. Jotting down more notes, he looked over his cuts and sutures and nodded to himself.
Curious, James asked, “What are you doing now?”
“Research,” was the curt reply he received.
“Research?” he repeated. When he didn’t receive the explanation he was waiting for, he cleared his throat in warning. As entertaining as McCoy’s boldness was, there was only so much disrespect he was willing to put up with before taking matters into his own hands.
McCoy arched an eyebrow, perhaps sensing his irritation. With a suppressed sigh, he tidied his things and began disinfecting them over the flame. “A large number of our patients die from infections that occur after they had their surgeries. I’ve been corresponding with surgeons and doctors on the topic of infections. I want to see if any of these concoctions can ward them off.”
“That’s most impressive,” he said, meaning it.
“It’s not impressive unless I find a way to stop people from dying,” McCoy grumbled. “With our current practices, if you want someone dead, all you have to do is leave their wound, however shallow, untreated. It’s unacceptable.”
The fiery passion in his voice made James blink. “I’m curious. Why did you decide to be a surgeon, McCoy?”
It was McCoy’s turn to blink. He looked at James as if he didn’t understand the question and furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean why? I’m a surgeon because I want to help people.” An unspoken ‘of course’ followed his statement.
“Yes, but you’re clearly an educated and talented man. Why don’t you become a physician instead of harrowing away as a surgeon?” he clarified. “The wages would be higher and the work less…arduous.”
Walking over to a basin of water and began washing his hands with soap, McCoy replied, “I could if I wanted to. But as I said before, I want to help people, and the people who need help usually aren’t those who can afford to send for physicians. Besides, for all their education and university degrees, physicians are quite useless in my opinion. What good is a doctor who’s too much of a gentleman to reset a broken bone or to suture a wound? By the time he sends for a surgeon, the patient might’ve already bled to death.”
“Let’s not forget the bloodletting,” James added helpfully.
Scowling as he shrugged his overcoat back on, McCoy nodded. “And the bloodletting. All physicians do is tell others to do the wrong thing. I’ll admit that some of them might be great doctors, but most of them aren’t, and I want no part of it. I make enough to eke out a living, that’s good enough for me.”
A man with no ambition beyond healing people; how strange and rare. A slow smile spread on James’ lips. “Your reasons seem fair enough. Given your strong penchant for saving lives, I assume you served during the wars?”
McCoy dipped his head, packing up his tools. “Yes, but not willingly.”
He blinked. “Oh? Unwillingly? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m not fond of wars or boats,” the man admitted.
Another laugh escaped him. Two genuine laughs in a single conversation-it was unprecedented. “You are an unusual one. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” McCoy said, though it sounded more like a resigned ‘let’s get this over with.’
James nodded, hand reaching back to make sure his pistols were ready for use. “Let’s go then.”
Arching an eyebrow, McCoy didn’t comment on the firearms and followed him out into the hallway.
At the entrance, the guide was waiting for them, looking surprised that he was leaving with McCoy in tow. He smiled and gestured at the scowling man behind him. “I must say, I was most impressed with Mister McCoy’s work on that cadaver. In fact, he even graciously offered to teach me more about the medical procedures performed here, and I simply couldn’t say no.” His grin widened when he heard McCoy sputtering in indignation and disbelief behind him. “I hope you won’t mind me stealing him away for the rest of the day?”
The little man’s eyes flickered with hesitation from him to McCoy. “No, of course not, please, by all means, go ahead and steal him away, My Lord.”
“Thank you for your cooperation. If all goes well on this trip, you can expect a commendation from the Kirk household. So far, it’s been an absolute delight.” He loved the feeling of having power in his hands-needed it-fed off it like an impoverished child. “Now if you don’t mind, we’ll be on our way.”
“Of course, My Lord. I’m most pleased to hear that you’re enjoying your visit thus far.” Then shooting McCoy a menacing glare, he gritted out, “And Mister McCoy, I trust you’ll ensure Lord James finds the remainder of his time here most pleasant.”
McCoy didn’t reply; too busy seething at having been trapped by James’ words again. The amount of funding resting on James’ word was enormous-so much so that the hospital’s very existence was at stake. He didn’t want that resting on his shoulders.
Once they got outside, they were greeted by a carriage driven by an Asian man with a boy, no older than seventeen opening the carriage door for them. Both of them were armed. James casually introduced the two, “Sulu, Chekov, meet my guest, Mister McCoy. He’ll be dining with me tonight. Mister McCoy, meet my coachman, Sulu, and my footman, Chekov-don’t let their age fool you, they’re also my best guards.”
Momentarily distracted from his rage, McCoy nodded at the two, thanked the boy and boarded the carriage. When the door closed and he was faced with laughing blue eyes and James’ grinning face once more, the anger returned. “You…you-”
James smirked, challenging him to finish his sentence. “Go on. Is there something you’d like to say to me, Mister McCoy?”
Swallowing down the insult, McCoy hissed, “Why are you doing this? If you want to hear more about the hospital or whatever the hell it is that you want, I’m sure you could find a more willing companion. You’re already acquainted with Doctor Boyce, aren’t you? Why couldn’t you find him instead? Why me?”
He shrugged. “Boyce is my stepfather’s physician, not mine, and I’ve heard what kind of things he has to say. He may be an excellent physician, but he’s hardly interesting enough to keep me entertained.”
“Entertained?” McCoy repeated, scowl deepening. “Entertained? You’re dragging me away from the hospital for your entertainment?”
“Yes, I am,” James answered easily. “Is there a problem?”
McCoy all but exploded at that. “Of course there’s a problem! Good god, man, what if there’s an emergency and people need help?”
The genuine concern made him blink. He had to admit, it wasn’t a tone of voice he was used to hearing and yet it was all he heard from McCoy. Either the man was the greatest actor in the country, or he was the real thing-a healer through and through. James had every intention to find out which he was.
He shrugged again. “There’ll be other surgeons there to help them. And if they really need to reach you, they know where to find you.” They both knew no one would dare interrupt them. Smiling, he added, “I’m sure you’ll find it worth your while to keep me company, McCoy.”
After a pause, McCoy collected himself and turned to look out the window, muttering to himself, “Unbelievable….”
Through the light of the setting sun, James could finally make out the colour of the man’s eyes.
Hazel.
--
At the Kirks’ London estate, McCoy appeared taken aback by their long, in-depth discussion on issues pertaining to the medical practices and sanitization over dinner. Throughout the evening, James’ butler and valet, Spock, served them wine while his housekeeper, Uhura, oversaw the meal. Although the two remained silent, he could feel them studying McCoy with interest. And McCoy, no doubt feeling their prying eyes on him, did his best to feign ignorance though the amount of wine he drank indicated otherwise.
After dinner, he showed McCoy around the estate. “I was impressed that you were able to keep up with the debate,” McCoy told him as they strolled down the hallway. His eyes were slightly glazed and his cheeks were flushed from all the wine he ingested during the meal.
James smiled, watching the man closely, licking his lips in anticipation. “Like I said before, I have a strong interest in medical science.”
“I didn’t think you were serious,” McCoy admitted. “Most of our benefactors just walk around and make sure we’re keeping our scalpels sharp and ready to be used.”
When they arrived at his chambers, he led the man inside with a laugh, successfully distracting him from his immediate surroundings. “It’s a good thing I’m not like most benefactors then, hmm?”
McCoy arched a brow. “I think that’s highly debatable considering how you pulled me from my work just to dine with you.” Once he realized where he’d been led to, he stopped in his tracks and glanced back at the entrance. Wide-eyed and hesitant, he began, “My Lord, I think perhaps I should-”
Pulling him close by the neckcloth, James cut him off with a searing kiss and kicked the door shut. “Call me James, McCoy. And you really must stay the night.” His lips curled into a predatory smirk. “I insist.”
--
The next morning, he had his servants draw up separate baths for him and McCoy. James mentally patted himself on the back when he watched those hazel eyes light up for a brief moment at the thought of taking an actual bath. The look was quickly quelled when McCoy looked over at him and recalled what he went through to earn the luxury. James merely smiled and waved him off, allowing Uhura to lead him to a separate room.
Watching as the footmen and chambermaids emptied their buckets of water into the tub, he reminded himself to consult his chef and resident engineer, Scotty about coming up with a more efficient system. As he soaked in the tub, Spock stood nearby, waiting with a towel. “You know,” he told the stoic man, kicking water up with his feet, “I thought London was going to be a dull and unexciting place.”
Spock arched an eyebrow. “Judging by your tone of voice, I assume you have found it otherwise, My Lord?”
No matter how hard he tried or how often he insisted, he couldn’t get the man to address him by anything but ‘My Lord’. After the first few years, he gave up.
“Let’s just say my mind’s been changed.” Just thinking about the way McCoy moaned and growled his name made James want to drag the man back for another round. Stepping out of the tub, he allowed himself to be dried off, not bothering to hide the fact that he was half hard. He wasn’t shy about his body and it wasn’t an unusual occurrence by any means for Spock.
“Shall I inform Missus Uhura that Mister McCoy will be joining us for dinner again tonight?”
He nodded. “I suspect that he’ll be joining me often for the remainder of this trip. Perhaps I’ll appoint him as my personal doctor-provided he’s as good as his reputation suggests.”
After toweling James off, Spock began helping him dress. “You are planning on assigning a surgeon to be your personal physician? I am not sure your mother would approve. Shouldn’t the role be filled by an actual physician?”
Voice momentarily cut off when Spock buttoned up his waistcoat, James waited for the man to finish before continuing, “She’s too concerned with my brother and Pike to bother with me at the moment. That’s the advantage of being the younger son. Besides, a surgeon’s more practical than a physician. And I’m certain McCoy is more than qualified to be a physician, but he chose to turn down the prestige in favour of saving lives. Isn’t that interesting, Spock?”
“Yes. Fascinating, My Lord,” was the only indulgence he received.
Watching Spock tuck his trousers into his boots, he wiggled his toes around uncomfortably. “I really wish these clothes were easier to take off. The amount of time it took me to get myself undressed last night was appalling.”
“I will see if there are any other more practical alternatives that your mother would approve of, My Lord,” Spock told him. “Have you already made plans for today?”
James sighed. “Yes-unfortunately. I have to pay the Marquise of Lansdowne a morning call on behalf of my mother, and I have no doubt she’ll find out if I miss it. Then I also have to look into the matter of getting the hospital more cadavers before I can indulge myself with a barmaid or two.”
Although his servants had been trained and given the strictest instructions to keep household affairs to themselves, he’d long since learnt not to play around with chambermaids or any of the staff-those needed to be disposed of and missing people led to rumours and gossip ,regardless of discipline. With his discretion, the stringent supervision of his upper servants, and the Kirk household’s influence, he had yet to develop a reputation for his…carnal appetite. And he wasn’t worried about McCoy in the least. The man wasn’t one to share his private affairs, and the hospital would sooner keep him quiet by force than risk closing down.
Spock’s eyebrow arched again. “Cadavers? I assume this matter pertains to Mister McCoy?”
He grinned and made his way towards the door. “You’re correct as always, Spock. As you know, Kirks are the most…generous of patrons to those we favour.”
“Indeed,” Spock said with no intonation, following him out into the hallway where they were joined by McCoy and Uhura. Nodding at the woman, he was reminded that he was no stranger to the Kirks’ ‘generosity’.
Looking over at his housekeeper, James asked, “I trust Mister McCoy had a proper bath, Missus Uhura?”
Uhura nodded. “Of course, My Lord.” Even after so many years of service, it was impressive how she still managed to sound so sardonic when addressing him. “He’s quite the gentleman-even had the decency to blush when Gaila and I offered to help him get dressed.”
“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll outgrow his shyness soon enough.”
McCoy shot him an alarmed look at that.
James smiled and asked with exaggerated innocence, “Sulu will be waiting for you outside at sunset. Unfortunately, I have a dinner party I must attend tonight so I won’t be back until after dinner, but you will be joining me for supper tonight, won’t you, Mister McCoy?”
There was a pause. Then, muttering curses under his breath, McCoy narrowed his eyes and scowled. “How could I turn down such a gracious invitation, My Lord?”
Laughing, James gave McCoy a light clap on the shoulder. “Please, when we’re not in public, just call me James.”
He couldn’t get enough of those fierce hazel eyes.
--
When his carriage pulled to a stop near a shoddy looking tavern, James looked around the surrounding area with distaste. He could hear screams and cries from the streets and laughter from the tavern. It was a neighbourhood where every life was expendable-nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold. He nodded at Spock. “I trust you and Chekov can handle this?”
“Naturally, My Lord,” Spock replied and stepped off the carriage with his hood on.
As much as he wanted to go in and take care of the matter himself, he couldn’t risk being seen in public with resurrectionists and tarnishing his reputation. He pulled his hood over his head, hiding his face, when he caught sight of his servants returning with a pair of dirty looking men. It took all the self-control he had not to wrinkle his nose in disgust when the men boarded the carriage. They smelt of filth and alcohol.
“What’s the big idea?” one of them asked.
They were ill-mannered and crude in all the wrong ways, unlike McCoy.
“Gentlemen,” he began with a subtle smile, “I understand you specialize in a very particular…trade I’m interested in….”
Later, after they dropped the men off back at the tavern, James turned to Spock with a slight frown. “I have to admit that that was disappointingly easy. I didn’t even get a chance to wave my pistols around.”
“Given their impoverished states and the amount of money you were offering, their compliance was to be expected, My Lord,” Spock replied with an arched brow.
He sighed. “Yes, of course. It certainly was a lot simpler than dealing with noblemen-even though I’ll need the carriage to be thoroughly cleaned or disposed of just to be rid of the smell they left behind. Actually, let’s go back and switch carriages. I can’t imagine being cooped up with this stench for the rest of the day.”
“As you would like, My Lord.”
“Oh, and Spock?”
“Yes?”
Turning to look out the window, he ordered, “Once they deliver all the bodies, they will have to be disposed of. I doubt the hospital will object to being given two more cadavers for their collection.”
Spock nodded, giving away no emotions. “Of course, My Lord.”
“Don’t you find it ironic how these people will be worth more in death than they ever were when they were alive? Do you think McCoy will appreciate this little gift?” James asked.
“Given Mister McCoy’s strict moral standings, I have my doubts,” Spock replied.
He grinned. “That’s what I thought. I can’t wait to see his reaction.”
--
James wished he had a way to capture McCoy’s expression forever when he heard about the sudden increase in the number of cadavers at the hospital. The man’s face was so expressive that he could spend a week just watching him without getting bored. First, there was curiosity and wariness which then turned into alarm and dread when it was announced that a number of the cadavers would be reserved for his usage only.
It wasn’t the cheapest or the most gratifying thing he’d ever done, but it was definitely worth it just to see such an impressive array of emotions cross McCoy’s face. James took it all in with near-childish delight.
“You…! You did all this, didn’t you? Dammit, man, this is against the law!” McCoy hissed at him once they were alone in an examining room.
He blinked with feigned ignorance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why am I not surprised that you’re the only one raising objections? Isn’t this a good thing, McCoy? Students will have the chance to practice on cadavers now and you get your test subjects for your research.”
“But these were decent people! You can’t just dig them up from their graves!” McCoy protested.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t do such a thing,” James replied, pretending to be affronted by the very idea. “Look, the corpses are already here, McCoy. You can’t very well stuff them back into the ground. And they’re already dead, what can they do? Or are you saying you’d rather be left out of the festivities and choose not to work with any of them?”
McCoy hesitated.
He pressed on, knowing he’d already won the argument. “I happen to recall a certain surgeon saying on my first day here, ‘I’d rather make mistakes on a deceased criminal than on a living person.’ Does that sound familiar to you?” Then he shrugged. “It’s your choice, McCoy. You only have two options here. It’s either you make good use of these corpses or you don’t.”
After a long moment of silence, McCoy sighed in defeat. “Fine.”
“‘Fine?’” James arched a brow in warning, giving the man a second chance.
“…thank you for your most generous contribution, My Lord,” McCoy muttered through gritted teeth.
“That’s better.” He barely kept the laughter out of his voice as he made his way to the door. “Of course, I’ll be looking forward to seeing just how grateful you are later, Mister McCoy.”
Seething, McCoy remained silent.
At the door, James turned around and asked, “Oh, I nearly forgot to ask: will you be in need of…younger cadavers?”
He immediately got the reaction he was hoping for. Hazel eyes widened and the rage on McCoy’s face bled away into a horrified expression.
“Ah,” he said with a slow nod, suppressing a smile, “’I’ll assume that’s a no then.”
--
With his chambers illuminated by moonlight, James studied McCoy’s sleeping form and idly ran a finger over the man’s lips before brushing loose strands of hair out of his face. Unconsciously, McCoy let out a soft sigh and leaned into the touch-something he would never do were he awake, James noted with some amusement.
“Why me?” McCoy had asked him on the first day.
It was a question James was beginning to ponder himself. Weeks had passed and he still sought out the man’s presence almost every evening. Why? While he had to admit that McCoy was a stunning specimen physically, there were many more like him, if not better. James had always enjoyed the company of young, voluptuous barmaids with soft, milky white skin and seductive smiles-he wasn’t sure how he ended up with an older, broad-shouldered surgeon with calloused hands and a constant scowl on his face.
He had to admit that McCoy was a brilliant man, able to hold his own in a conversation covering a wide range of topics. As a surgeon and a chemist, he was unrivalled in his field-although his uncouth manners left something to be desired. With his heart bigger than his status was high or his pockets deep, McCoy was in no position to give, yet he went and gave anyway. It baffled him. An emotional and honest man and a terrible liar, McCoy was as useless to him politically as a person could get.
And to make matters worse, the man was headstrong and ruled by a strict moral code of his own making, which, apparently, didn’t have a section outlining how to behave properly when addressing those above him. James didn’t know why he found such pleasure in McCoy’s insolence. If it had been any other man, he would’ve destroyed their life and reputation without a second thought. After all, the Kirk household didn’t build their reputation on mercy and kindness.
Staring at the sleeping man, he murmured with uncharacteristic softness, “I don’t know, McCoy. Why you?”
--
“It appears that you are getting quite attached to Mister McCoy, My Lord,” Spock noted one morning while tying his cravat.
His immediate reply was a dismissive “Don’t be ridiculous, Spock.”
Eyebrow arching in a chiding manner, Spock retorted, “I am hardly being ridiculous, My Lord. I am merely stating a logical conclusion after sixty-three days of observation.”
James remained silent for a minute. Spock wasn’t one for ridiculousness-ever, which meant that it was a topic of concern to him. Deny it though he might, James knew the man was right. But if it was becoming obvious that it wasn’t a mere passing interest then new problems were bound to arise. It wasn’t a good time to be getting attached.
But then again, as a member of the peerage, there was never a good time to get attached.
Wary blue eyes glanced over at the window. “Is it a weakness?” What he meant to ask was: ‘Will I have to dispose of him?’ If McCoy could be used against him, then he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Kirks simply couldn’t afford to have weaknesses. But if he couldn’t have McCoy, then he’d make sure no one ever would.
He’d never been in such an uncomfortable situation before nor had he ever been so hesitant.
And it was over one measly surgeon who cared too much and whose eyes shone too brightly.
Spock glanced up from helping him put his boots on. “I believe the question you should be asking is ‘Do the benefits outweigh the risks?’ I would suggest that you should assess Mister McCoy’s value before coming to a decision. It isn’t like you to jump to such drastic conclusions so easily, My Lord.”
He mentally scolded himself for being so out of character. It was just an effect McCoy seemed to have on him for some unexplainable reason. Shaking his head to refocus, he made his way to the door. “Of course. Yes…. Yes, you’re right. This is most peculiar. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“I have no comment on the matter,” Spock replied, ever the wise man.
“No, I didn’t think you would,” he said with a thin smile on his lips and made his way to the door. “I’m not a fool. I won’t follow in my father’s footsteps.”
In the hall, he found McCoy waiting for him, impatient and arms crossed. “Took you long enough. I half expected you to come out in breeches and a powdered wig,” was the greeting he received. When he didn’t receive a flirtatious reply like he usually did, McCoy frowned and asked him, “Are you alright, James?”
James nodded. “I’m fine.” Then he curled his lips into a teasing grin. “Could it be that the angels above finally have answered my prayers? Are you worried about me, McCoy?”
Scoffing and rolling his eyes, McCoy muttered, “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, you damn infant.”
He watched the scowling man out of the corner of his eyes and tried to convince himself that he would be able to act accordingly if the occasion arose.
Onto Part 2