[FIC] Star Trek: Then, Suddenly, Life Changed [6/6] (Kirk/McCoy, R)
Title: Then, Suddenly, Life Changed [6/6]
Authors: salvaged_pride and sullacat
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary: In honor of the one year anniversary of the movie, an AU - What if Leonard McCoy had been at the bar that night? Two men, a cycle, and a trip that changes their lives. 2658 words -- Completed!
<< Chapter 5 | Main Chapter Listing
(click here to see this image full sized, it is beautiful)
The sun woke McCoy up, slow realization of where he was. Hotel. San Francisco. Jim. Smiling, he stretched and turned, reaching out to Jim -
And he was alone.
McCoy wandered around the hotel room an hour, waiting to see if maybe Jim was just out running an errand, getting them breakfast or something. But as the minutes passed, the truth dawned on him - Jim was gone. Left without saying goodbye. No note, nothing. Had never planned on staying.
Looking back, it made sense, sort of, but right now as McCoy packed his bag and found a ride to the Academy, all McCoy felt was this empty pit inside him. He rode the shuttle toward the Presidio, the events of the last few days overwhelming him. There was a strange feeling of disbelief in the whole fucking situation. A few months ago he was married and working back home. A few days ago he was in bar in Riverside, Iowa. And now…
Now he was in San Francisco, his home for the next four years, surrounded by fucking children playing soldier. All this change, and yet - his thoughts were centered on the man who was now right now somewhere on a road in California, riding his goddamn motorcycle, riding away from him.
It wasn’t like he really expected Jim to stay, McCoy told himself. Well, maybe a little. A small hope that Jim might stick around, in the city at least. Maybe they could get to know each other under more normal circumstances. Wake up together warm in a real bed.
That’s what you get for hoping. Fucking stupid sometimes, thinking it meant something to Jim just because he’d felt something.
He was stupid for thinking it meant anything. Too hard up. Been too long since he felt that way, that sort of connection. Maybe it was just the circumstances. Couldn’t have been real, that look in Jim's eye. Or damn, maybe Jim looked at everyone like that. Not like there was anything special about him.
Hell, most likely Jim was just glad to be rid of him. Couldn’t leave fast enough.
If they’d met now, just two guys sitting down next to each other in class, or at a bar, or in a shuttle together - really, what would they have in common? What would draw them together? Nothing. It was only fate that brought them together in the bar that night, and that was all done and gone.
Fate, he snorted as he got off the shuttle and headed toward the Admissions office, feeling more like the old McCoy that Jim had met in Riverside than Bones, the one Jim had left alone that morning. Fate. What a load of shit.
That day was the busiest McCoy could remember having in years. He arrived at the Administration building Pike had directed him toward, but being almost a week late due to 'family emergency' didn’t mean jackshit to Starfleet officials who didn’t care much for his excuse. Meeting with the Admissions folks was smoother thanks to the good word from Pike, but it didn’t help with the dressing-down he got from the head of the Medical department who set him to graveyard shifts for the next week.
Full time, forty hours, in addition to the crushing first year load of bullshit classes - honestly, who the fuck cared about cultural distinctions between the Cardassians and Klingons - all he cared about was their goddamn Anatomy and Physiology.
The end of his first day in San Francisco was at 0700 the next morning, after a grueling shift of working on cadets who'd been injured in a car accident and an outbreak of Portuguese influenza in one of the dorms. By the time he left the infirmary the sun was coming up and McCoy had been up for twenty-four hours, and was more tired than he'd ever been in his entire life. He set the alarm to wake himself up in four hours so he wouldn't miss class, then passed out on a twin bed in his empty dorm room, too tired to even hit the flask next to his bed. Welcome to Starfleet, you asshole.
By the third day he’d fallen into a routine, as much as one could working nights. Class in the morning and afternoon, quick dinner and a few hours of sleep, then work his ass off all night only to start it all over again the next day. But each morning as he left the infirmary, seeing the dawn breaking over the bay, McCoy looked out over the water and thought about Jim.
At least his dorm room was quiet. No roommate, at least not yet, but probably one before the end of the semester, the consolidation happening when the first of the cadets began washing out. Granted that he wasn’t one of them, McCoy thought grimly, standing under a stream of hot water, trying not to think about Jim.
But he did, he always did. Eyes. Hands. Mouth. Sucking his cock, looking up at him with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Taking him in deep, sucking him slow. McCoy pulled his cock, squeezing it hard and breathing with each stroke, faster and faster until he spilled into his hand, gasping and groaning Jim's name, not even ashamed anymore.
One evening McCoy sat down to a copy of the notes from his class, but his thoughts were somewhere else. He tried to imagine where Jim was, if he’d had a place to sleep and a hot meal. It wasn’t a life for everyone, but it seemed to be what Jim wanted. Pushing his notes aside, he pulled up his computer terminal. Out of curiosity, he opened up the network interface and began digging up what he could on Jim Kirk, but could only find information about the great George Kirk, martyr of the Kelvin. But there were links to his children; it seemed he had a son that would be Jim's age…
Was that him? A photo pulled up from somewhere showed a class of schoolchildren, a little blond head among a crowd, those eyes recognizable even then.
All of a sudden in clicked in his head. From Riverside. The running, the leaving home, not wanting to stay there, some sense of loss that you can’t explain and can’t satisfy, no matter how hard you try. It didn't explain everything, but it explained a lot. Fuck, Jim. Why didn't you tell me?
It was why McCoy drank. Might be why Jim ran. Shit.
Soon enough things began to settle down. McCoy's supervisor moved him to an evening shift, and his life felt almost normal. Almost. After a particularly rough night, McCoy grabbed a couple beers with some of the other medics then headed back to his room. It wasn't awful, his attempt at being sociable, and at least the doctors and nurses weren't as young as most of the cadets, but - well, it wasn't the same. Not that McCoy was comparing it to anything. But he had been alone before he met Jim and survived. He sure as hell could manage without hi-
McCoy noticed the changes as soon as he opened the door. Shit. First thing he saw was the stack of books on the empty desk, even before he noticed the lump asleep under the covers. Pair of boots on the floor. Empty food container in the trash. Well, he'd known it was coming, that eventually someone would get assigned as his roommate, but damn. Didn't mean he had to be pleased about it.
Taking a deep breath, McCoy padded over to his bed and tried to drop his bag as quiet as possible. No sense getting off on the wrong foot, and hopefully it wasn't some asshole kid he'd have to-
McCoy had just gotten his boots off when he saw it, the familiar beat-up leather jacket hanging from the chair, and he froze. He picked it up, even before he dared glance over at the sleeping form, his heart beating too fast in his chest. Lifting it up to his face, he smelled it and that immediate sense of Jim surrounded him. McCoy walked over to the sleeping man, the familiar blond hair peeking out now, an arm casually slung around his pillow. What was he doing here? How had he found him? How had he gotten in? Why? "Jim," he called out softly. A million thoughts raced through his head, some happy, some angry, but all confused and unsettled and focused on the man asleep in front of him. "Jim, wake up."
There was a sleepy sound that came from the bed, vague and unsure, before Jim lifted his head up out of the pillow. He blinked at the light in the room, eyes squeezing shut, before some sense of what was going on came to Jim and his eyes snapped back open. Those blue eyes went as wide as possible their eyes met. "...'ones?" Rasped out through a sleep-tightened throat, all confusion and shock. "...'ow'd you get in m'room?" A hand tugged free of the covers and scrubbed across his eyes, then Jim looked back at McCoy again as if the sight of him would have vanished. "...The fuck?"
McCoy never thought he'd feel so happy to hear that name again. "Whatdaya mean, your room? This is my dorm room." He sat down on the bed, still in a state of shock. "What are you even doing here?"
Jim sat up, sheets falling down to pool around his skinny hips and showing he wasn't wearing a shirt. "Got assigned this room," every statement was getting clearer, "had no idea it was yours... too late to be in the normal dorms so they stuck me out here in no-where-ville medical dorms." His eyes dropped down, clearly trying to figure out how it was even possible this could have happened.
"Well fuck." Only response McCoy could come up with, only thought in his mind - how? What did this mean? "What do you mean, assigned here? Are you..." It was like someone turned on a light in his head. "Jim, did you enlist?"
"Yea." Jim looked back up, "...Did early this morning. They've been running my ass ragged since."
McCoy sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, looking slightly dazed. "I thought you didn't want this?" he asked, tilting his head up at Jim. "You didn't want Starfleet." It went without saying that he knew Jim didn't want him.
"...Didn't. Still don't know if I want this." McCoy wondered if those words answered the spoken or the unspoken question. Jim's eyes slid away from his. "But here I am, hoping I didn't make a huge mistake," his lips quirked.
McCoy was confused... but this wasn't anything new. "I thought- fuck, I don't know what I thought." He was at a loss for words. Except- "Good to see you again." McCoy gave him a little smile back, despite the hurt inside him, then stood and headed back over to his bed.
Jim actually laughed. "That makes two of us." He leaned back on his bed, arms crossing behind his head. He shifted, scratched his bare chest, then returned to pillowing his head. "The old man dared me to." Spoken in a completely different tone, changing subjects.
"Dared you?" McCoy paused as he sat down on his bed, pulling off his shirt. He wasn't even sure he should bring this up. "...On account of your dad?"
Jim visibly froze in place for a second, eyes tilting just enough to glance at McCoy before snorting, "Guess so." His fingers tightened minutely, visibly straining strands of hair.
"Well that's sort of shitty of him," McCoy replied back slow. "I mean no disrespect to your dad, Jim," he added carefully. He'd been a little boy when the Kelvin went down; everyone knew the story of George Kirk. "But he should go after you on your own considerable merit." McCoy pulled off his pants and lay down under his covers, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. Like an elephant in the room, they seemed to be avoiding talking about what happened between them. "Lights off." The room darkened around them.
"Pretty sure Pike and my dad were friends. Mentioned something about looking up my records too. Dunno what the old man sees... me or my father."
A little snort escaped McCoy. "They don't take charity cases in Starfleet, Jim, and you know it." Leaning up on one side, he began numbering items off on his fingers. "You're smart as shit, determined, hell of a good fighter, ... shit, I'll probably be saluting you one of these days." He lay down on his back, staring up in the dark at the ceiling. This wasn't bad... not terrible. What if this was all there was between them, just friendship. Maybe an occasional fuck. Wasn't terrible. Hell, was more than he had an hour ago.
Hell of a lot better than McCoy had before he met Jim.
"I don't know what Starfleet does. Sure, I got the spiel as a kid, saw it on the news a couple of times, but hell if I know how it works. Pike seemed determined, wanted to control..." McCoy could hear Jim's sigh. "Besides..." The silence took McCoy by surprised, and he was almost ready to break it when Jim said quietly, a smirk in his voice, "you're here."
McCoy was glad for the dark, so Jim couldn't see the little grin that fell on his face. "Yeah," he answered quiet. "And you're stuck here with me, least 'til you decide you want another roommate." They could talk more tomorrow, he knew that. Most important thing was that his friend was here, safe, fed, healthy. The rest? They could see about the rest of it later. "Breakfast tomorrow, okay? You can tell me all about your classes." He let out a quiet sigh. "G'night Jim."
"Yea." Nothing more, nothing less. Quiet in the room. "Night, Bones."
It became silent, except for the softest constant hum of electronics and the breathing of the two men trying to find sleep.
McCoy didn't know how much time passed, only that despite the long day, sleep wasn't coming easy. It had been a long time since he'd shared a room with someone besides Jim, and those circumstances had been different. He had been different. Still, it shouldn't be this hard. Nothing changed, really.
Suddenly, McCoy heard the rustling of bedsheets, pulling him out of his thoughts. His ears strained in the darkness, hearing the quiet sound of something touching the floor. Footsteps. The quiet in the night was ripped apart as there was a squealing sound, metal dragged against the floor. The noise hurt his ears, and he started when he felt the bed jerk as something hit the side of it. His hand reached out and where there should have been space, instead he found another bed. Jim's mattress butted against his own. "Jim?"
Jim said nothing at all as he climbed back into the bed, and his body slid up along side of McCoy. He could feel as Jim's arm stole around his chest and his back was pulled up Jim's strong chest. Jim's head laid against his own and his hand found Jim's, sliding together with a practiced ease. Shouldn't have felt this good, this right... but it did.
McCoy turned his head slightly, just enough to brush their lips together. Jim's mouth moved against his until Jim was tugging at his lower lip. The kiss stayed tender, the faint scratch of a day's worth of scruff, the squeeze of Jim's hand against his own. There didn't need to be anything else said between them - at least not for now. They let their mouths and the lacing of their fingers speak what needed to be said. Bones and Jim curled together in their combined beds, uncertainties and an unknown future pushed aside for the far more simple present. Then, suddenly, life changed.
(click here to see this image full sized)
*******************************
Then, Suddenly, Life Changed Soundtrack
download zip here
[1] If We Ever Meet Again (Timbaland feat. Katy Perry) Momentum seemed to shift, and the hulking mass suddenly dropped on top of Jim, two hundred pounds of bulk. "Goddamn bully," he heard muttered low from somewhere to the right, just as a new fight broke out, two cadets jumping in the direction of that voice.
[2] Bones and Skin (Mirah) "Shit, you got it good." Jim stepped forward, eying the other man's face. He was pretty sure his own nose was broken, and he probably looked like hell. "...Least I can do is help you get it fixed up. Grab a bottle of vodka and a rag and we can get it cleaned out."
[3] Fix You (Coldplay) McCoy leaned over, turned on the old-fashioned lamp, and pulled the light toward Jim for a better look. "Okay, lemme look at this," he murmured. McCoy stank of booze and smoke, but his hands were cool and gentle as he carefully tilted Jim's face, the better to see the fractured nose.
[4] Life Less Ordinary (Carbon Leaf) McCoy looked like he was considering the offer. "Which direction you heading?"
"West." Complete with a vague hand wave that could have been any direction. Seemed as good as any, considering they were in the middle of the country.
[5] Fuck This Shit (Belle and Sebastian) "You wouldn't believe the sorts of bugs you can pick up out here, poisonous plants that will fuck up your immune system, internal bleeding, shut down all your organs..." He shook his head, as if suddenly suspicious of the entire outdoors.
Jim just gave McCoy a long look. "And that's why we don't eat those," like he was talking to a three year old. "We eat things that won't make us sick. Like sweet potatoes."
[6] What About Now (Lonestar) "You know, if you could handle the trip... we could just keep going west, ya know. ...past Denver."
McCoy's face went from casual to curious. "What do you mean, keep going west?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard Jim correctly.
"You know..." Slipped in a mouthful of french toast, chewed, swallowed. "Out west. Like, California."
[7] Must Be Dreaming (Frou Frou) Jim froze against the warmth behind him, eyes wide. He held there in place, feeling his heart against his rib cage, but nothing came of it. Just warm arms, holding him loosely and the strange feeling of slow deep breathing against his skin.
[8] You and Me (Lifehouse) Jim brought the fork back up to his mouth, giving the tines a long lick. McCoy was still watching Jim, eyes following that fork until it left Jim's mouth. "You like it?" the doctor asked, his face flushing a little.
[9] Have You Ever Seen the Rain (The Ramones) They drove another two hours in this mess before things really began getting bad, the thunder crashing overhead and McCoy holding on tighter and tighter with each turn the bike made. Jim could feel McCoy's hands unconsciously grabbing at his shirt each time they leaned into a turn or the tires on the cycle missed their grip.
[10] Nothing Else Matters (Metallica) He tucked his head in against McCoy's shoulder, closing his eyes. It was warmer there, anyway. It would let him think for a little while, even if he didn't want to.
[11] Collide (Howie Day) The grumpy, bitter doctor was gone and standing there was this fucking good-looking guy with warm eyes and a kind smile. Jim stared in shock, blinking slowly. "...Len?" Just to be sure.
[12] Crashed (Daughtry, accoustic) The last hour was spent zig-zagging through traffic, bolting through small spaces between cars and trucks just trying to get ahead.
[13] The Pretender (Foo Fighters) Pike seemed to know every damn thing that could get under his skin, pulling him apart and making him think on something he had made a choice about a long, long time ago. That rebellion in Jim only came on stronger with the push of authority, with that voice of choice, that tone of possible destiny that could be in his hands. He made his own choices.
[14] Superman Tonight (Bon Jovi) "Felt old. You changed that." McCoy was speaking into Jim's skin, so softly it was hard to hear his words clearly. He was rubbing against Jim's hip, his breath catching as he spoke. "Want you so much."
[15] Dante's Prayer (Loreena McKennitt) Right now, he knew more than anything he couldn't stay here. Couldn't stay where he was so close to this man who kept making him question things, question his life, question himself.
[16] What Hurts The Most (Rascal Flatts) It wasn’t like he really expected Jim to stay, McCoy told himself. Well, maybe a little. A small hope that Jim might stick around, in the city at least. Maybe they could get to know each other under more normal circumstances. Wake up together warm in a real bed.
[17] Not Drunk Enough (Adele) But each morning as he left the infirmary, seeing the dawn breaking over the bay, McCoy looked out over the water and thought about Jim.
[18] Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol) Jim's head laid against his own and his hand found Jim's, sliding together with a practiced ease. Shouldn't have felt this good, this right... but it did.
Authors: salvaged_pride and sullacat
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R for language and sexual situations
Summary: In honor of the one year anniversary of the movie, an AU - What if Leonard McCoy had been at the bar that night? Two men, a cycle, and a trip that changes their lives. 2658 words -- Completed!
<< Chapter 5 | Main Chapter Listing
(click here to see this image full sized, it is beautiful)
The sun woke McCoy up, slow realization of where he was. Hotel. San Francisco. Jim. Smiling, he stretched and turned, reaching out to Jim -
And he was alone.
McCoy wandered around the hotel room an hour, waiting to see if maybe Jim was just out running an errand, getting them breakfast or something. But as the minutes passed, the truth dawned on him - Jim was gone. Left without saying goodbye. No note, nothing. Had never planned on staying.
Looking back, it made sense, sort of, but right now as McCoy packed his bag and found a ride to the Academy, all McCoy felt was this empty pit inside him. He rode the shuttle toward the Presidio, the events of the last few days overwhelming him. There was a strange feeling of disbelief in the whole fucking situation. A few months ago he was married and working back home. A few days ago he was in bar in Riverside, Iowa. And now…
Now he was in San Francisco, his home for the next four years, surrounded by fucking children playing soldier. All this change, and yet - his thoughts were centered on the man who was now right now somewhere on a road in California, riding his goddamn motorcycle, riding away from him.
It wasn’t like he really expected Jim to stay, McCoy told himself. Well, maybe a little. A small hope that Jim might stick around, in the city at least. Maybe they could get to know each other under more normal circumstances. Wake up together warm in a real bed.
That’s what you get for hoping. Fucking stupid sometimes, thinking it meant something to Jim just because he’d felt something.
He was stupid for thinking it meant anything. Too hard up. Been too long since he felt that way, that sort of connection. Maybe it was just the circumstances. Couldn’t have been real, that look in Jim's eye. Or damn, maybe Jim looked at everyone like that. Not like there was anything special about him.
Hell, most likely Jim was just glad to be rid of him. Couldn’t leave fast enough.
If they’d met now, just two guys sitting down next to each other in class, or at a bar, or in a shuttle together - really, what would they have in common? What would draw them together? Nothing. It was only fate that brought them together in the bar that night, and that was all done and gone.
Fate, he snorted as he got off the shuttle and headed toward the Admissions office, feeling more like the old McCoy that Jim had met in Riverside than Bones, the one Jim had left alone that morning. Fate. What a load of shit.
That day was the busiest McCoy could remember having in years. He arrived at the Administration building Pike had directed him toward, but being almost a week late due to 'family emergency' didn’t mean jackshit to Starfleet officials who didn’t care much for his excuse. Meeting with the Admissions folks was smoother thanks to the good word from Pike, but it didn’t help with the dressing-down he got from the head of the Medical department who set him to graveyard shifts for the next week.
Full time, forty hours, in addition to the crushing first year load of bullshit classes - honestly, who the fuck cared about cultural distinctions between the Cardassians and Klingons - all he cared about was their goddamn Anatomy and Physiology.
The end of his first day in San Francisco was at 0700 the next morning, after a grueling shift of working on cadets who'd been injured in a car accident and an outbreak of Portuguese influenza in one of the dorms. By the time he left the infirmary the sun was coming up and McCoy had been up for twenty-four hours, and was more tired than he'd ever been in his entire life. He set the alarm to wake himself up in four hours so he wouldn't miss class, then passed out on a twin bed in his empty dorm room, too tired to even hit the flask next to his bed. Welcome to Starfleet, you asshole.
By the third day he’d fallen into a routine, as much as one could working nights. Class in the morning and afternoon, quick dinner and a few hours of sleep, then work his ass off all night only to start it all over again the next day. But each morning as he left the infirmary, seeing the dawn breaking over the bay, McCoy looked out over the water and thought about Jim.
At least his dorm room was quiet. No roommate, at least not yet, but probably one before the end of the semester, the consolidation happening when the first of the cadets began washing out. Granted that he wasn’t one of them, McCoy thought grimly, standing under a stream of hot water, trying not to think about Jim.
But he did, he always did. Eyes. Hands. Mouth. Sucking his cock, looking up at him with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Taking him in deep, sucking him slow. McCoy pulled his cock, squeezing it hard and breathing with each stroke, faster and faster until he spilled into his hand, gasping and groaning Jim's name, not even ashamed anymore.
One evening McCoy sat down to a copy of the notes from his class, but his thoughts were somewhere else. He tried to imagine where Jim was, if he’d had a place to sleep and a hot meal. It wasn’t a life for everyone, but it seemed to be what Jim wanted. Pushing his notes aside, he pulled up his computer terminal. Out of curiosity, he opened up the network interface and began digging up what he could on Jim Kirk, but could only find information about the great George Kirk, martyr of the Kelvin. But there were links to his children; it seemed he had a son that would be Jim's age…
Was that him? A photo pulled up from somewhere showed a class of schoolchildren, a little blond head among a crowd, those eyes recognizable even then.
All of a sudden in clicked in his head. From Riverside. The running, the leaving home, not wanting to stay there, some sense of loss that you can’t explain and can’t satisfy, no matter how hard you try. It didn't explain everything, but it explained a lot. Fuck, Jim. Why didn't you tell me?
It was why McCoy drank. Might be why Jim ran. Shit.
Soon enough things began to settle down. McCoy's supervisor moved him to an evening shift, and his life felt almost normal. Almost. After a particularly rough night, McCoy grabbed a couple beers with some of the other medics then headed back to his room. It wasn't awful, his attempt at being sociable, and at least the doctors and nurses weren't as young as most of the cadets, but - well, it wasn't the same. Not that McCoy was comparing it to anything. But he had been alone before he met Jim and survived. He sure as hell could manage without hi-
McCoy noticed the changes as soon as he opened the door. Shit. First thing he saw was the stack of books on the empty desk, even before he noticed the lump asleep under the covers. Pair of boots on the floor. Empty food container in the trash. Well, he'd known it was coming, that eventually someone would get assigned as his roommate, but damn. Didn't mean he had to be pleased about it.
Taking a deep breath, McCoy padded over to his bed and tried to drop his bag as quiet as possible. No sense getting off on the wrong foot, and hopefully it wasn't some asshole kid he'd have to-
McCoy had just gotten his boots off when he saw it, the familiar beat-up leather jacket hanging from the chair, and he froze. He picked it up, even before he dared glance over at the sleeping form, his heart beating too fast in his chest. Lifting it up to his face, he smelled it and that immediate sense of Jim surrounded him. McCoy walked over to the sleeping man, the familiar blond hair peeking out now, an arm casually slung around his pillow. What was he doing here? How had he found him? How had he gotten in? Why? "Jim," he called out softly. A million thoughts raced through his head, some happy, some angry, but all confused and unsettled and focused on the man asleep in front of him. "Jim, wake up."
There was a sleepy sound that came from the bed, vague and unsure, before Jim lifted his head up out of the pillow. He blinked at the light in the room, eyes squeezing shut, before some sense of what was going on came to Jim and his eyes snapped back open. Those blue eyes went as wide as possible their eyes met. "...'ones?" Rasped out through a sleep-tightened throat, all confusion and shock. "...'ow'd you get in m'room?" A hand tugged free of the covers and scrubbed across his eyes, then Jim looked back at McCoy again as if the sight of him would have vanished. "...The fuck?"
McCoy never thought he'd feel so happy to hear that name again. "Whatdaya mean, your room? This is my dorm room." He sat down on the bed, still in a state of shock. "What are you even doing here?"
Jim sat up, sheets falling down to pool around his skinny hips and showing he wasn't wearing a shirt. "Got assigned this room," every statement was getting clearer, "had no idea it was yours... too late to be in the normal dorms so they stuck me out here in no-where-ville medical dorms." His eyes dropped down, clearly trying to figure out how it was even possible this could have happened.
"Well fuck." Only response McCoy could come up with, only thought in his mind - how? What did this mean? "What do you mean, assigned here? Are you..." It was like someone turned on a light in his head. "Jim, did you enlist?"
"Yea." Jim looked back up, "...Did early this morning. They've been running my ass ragged since."
McCoy sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, looking slightly dazed. "I thought you didn't want this?" he asked, tilting his head up at Jim. "You didn't want Starfleet." It went without saying that he knew Jim didn't want him.
"...Didn't. Still don't know if I want this." McCoy wondered if those words answered the spoken or the unspoken question. Jim's eyes slid away from his. "But here I am, hoping I didn't make a huge mistake," his lips quirked.
McCoy was confused... but this wasn't anything new. "I thought- fuck, I don't know what I thought." He was at a loss for words. Except- "Good to see you again." McCoy gave him a little smile back, despite the hurt inside him, then stood and headed back over to his bed.
Jim actually laughed. "That makes two of us." He leaned back on his bed, arms crossing behind his head. He shifted, scratched his bare chest, then returned to pillowing his head. "The old man dared me to." Spoken in a completely different tone, changing subjects.
"Dared you?" McCoy paused as he sat down on his bed, pulling off his shirt. He wasn't even sure he should bring this up. "...On account of your dad?"
Jim visibly froze in place for a second, eyes tilting just enough to glance at McCoy before snorting, "Guess so." His fingers tightened minutely, visibly straining strands of hair.
"Well that's sort of shitty of him," McCoy replied back slow. "I mean no disrespect to your dad, Jim," he added carefully. He'd been a little boy when the Kelvin went down; everyone knew the story of George Kirk. "But he should go after you on your own considerable merit." McCoy pulled off his pants and lay down under his covers, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. Like an elephant in the room, they seemed to be avoiding talking about what happened between them. "Lights off." The room darkened around them.
"Pretty sure Pike and my dad were friends. Mentioned something about looking up my records too. Dunno what the old man sees... me or my father."
A little snort escaped McCoy. "They don't take charity cases in Starfleet, Jim, and you know it." Leaning up on one side, he began numbering items off on his fingers. "You're smart as shit, determined, hell of a good fighter, ... shit, I'll probably be saluting you one of these days." He lay down on his back, staring up in the dark at the ceiling. This wasn't bad... not terrible. What if this was all there was between them, just friendship. Maybe an occasional fuck. Wasn't terrible. Hell, was more than he had an hour ago.
Hell of a lot better than McCoy had before he met Jim.
"I don't know what Starfleet does. Sure, I got the spiel as a kid, saw it on the news a couple of times, but hell if I know how it works. Pike seemed determined, wanted to control..." McCoy could hear Jim's sigh. "Besides..." The silence took McCoy by surprised, and he was almost ready to break it when Jim said quietly, a smirk in his voice, "you're here."
McCoy was glad for the dark, so Jim couldn't see the little grin that fell on his face. "Yeah," he answered quiet. "And you're stuck here with me, least 'til you decide you want another roommate." They could talk more tomorrow, he knew that. Most important thing was that his friend was here, safe, fed, healthy. The rest? They could see about the rest of it later. "Breakfast tomorrow, okay? You can tell me all about your classes." He let out a quiet sigh. "G'night Jim."
"Yea." Nothing more, nothing less. Quiet in the room. "Night, Bones."
It became silent, except for the softest constant hum of electronics and the breathing of the two men trying to find sleep.
McCoy didn't know how much time passed, only that despite the long day, sleep wasn't coming easy. It had been a long time since he'd shared a room with someone besides Jim, and those circumstances had been different. He had been different. Still, it shouldn't be this hard. Nothing changed, really.
Suddenly, McCoy heard the rustling of bedsheets, pulling him out of his thoughts. His ears strained in the darkness, hearing the quiet sound of something touching the floor. Footsteps. The quiet in the night was ripped apart as there was a squealing sound, metal dragged against the floor. The noise hurt his ears, and he started when he felt the bed jerk as something hit the side of it. His hand reached out and where there should have been space, instead he found another bed. Jim's mattress butted against his own. "Jim?"
Jim said nothing at all as he climbed back into the bed, and his body slid up along side of McCoy. He could feel as Jim's arm stole around his chest and his back was pulled up Jim's strong chest. Jim's head laid against his own and his hand found Jim's, sliding together with a practiced ease. Shouldn't have felt this good, this right... but it did.
McCoy turned his head slightly, just enough to brush their lips together. Jim's mouth moved against his until Jim was tugging at his lower lip. The kiss stayed tender, the faint scratch of a day's worth of scruff, the squeeze of Jim's hand against his own. There didn't need to be anything else said between them - at least not for now. They let their mouths and the lacing of their fingers speak what needed to be said. Bones and Jim curled together in their combined beds, uncertainties and an unknown future pushed aside for the far more simple present. Then, suddenly, life changed.
(click here to see this image full sized)
*******************************
Then, Suddenly, Life Changed Soundtrack
download zip here
[1] If We Ever Meet Again (Timbaland feat. Katy Perry) Momentum seemed to shift, and the hulking mass suddenly dropped on top of Jim, two hundred pounds of bulk. "Goddamn bully," he heard muttered low from somewhere to the right, just as a new fight broke out, two cadets jumping in the direction of that voice.
[2] Bones and Skin (Mirah) "Shit, you got it good." Jim stepped forward, eying the other man's face. He was pretty sure his own nose was broken, and he probably looked like hell. "...Least I can do is help you get it fixed up. Grab a bottle of vodka and a rag and we can get it cleaned out."
[3] Fix You (Coldplay) McCoy leaned over, turned on the old-fashioned lamp, and pulled the light toward Jim for a better look. "Okay, lemme look at this," he murmured. McCoy stank of booze and smoke, but his hands were cool and gentle as he carefully tilted Jim's face, the better to see the fractured nose.
[4] Life Less Ordinary (Carbon Leaf) McCoy looked like he was considering the offer. "Which direction you heading?"
"West." Complete with a vague hand wave that could have been any direction. Seemed as good as any, considering they were in the middle of the country.
[5] Fuck This Shit (Belle and Sebastian) "You wouldn't believe the sorts of bugs you can pick up out here, poisonous plants that will fuck up your immune system, internal bleeding, shut down all your organs..." He shook his head, as if suddenly suspicious of the entire outdoors.
Jim just gave McCoy a long look. "And that's why we don't eat those," like he was talking to a three year old. "We eat things that won't make us sick. Like sweet potatoes."
[6] What About Now (Lonestar) "You know, if you could handle the trip... we could just keep going west, ya know. ...past Denver."
McCoy's face went from casual to curious. "What do you mean, keep going west?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard Jim correctly.
"You know..." Slipped in a mouthful of french toast, chewed, swallowed. "Out west. Like, California."
[7] Must Be Dreaming (Frou Frou) Jim froze against the warmth behind him, eyes wide. He held there in place, feeling his heart against his rib cage, but nothing came of it. Just warm arms, holding him loosely and the strange feeling of slow deep breathing against his skin.
[8] You and Me (Lifehouse) Jim brought the fork back up to his mouth, giving the tines a long lick. McCoy was still watching Jim, eyes following that fork until it left Jim's mouth. "You like it?" the doctor asked, his face flushing a little.
[9] Have You Ever Seen the Rain (The Ramones) They drove another two hours in this mess before things really began getting bad, the thunder crashing overhead and McCoy holding on tighter and tighter with each turn the bike made. Jim could feel McCoy's hands unconsciously grabbing at his shirt each time they leaned into a turn or the tires on the cycle missed their grip.
[10] Nothing Else Matters (Metallica) He tucked his head in against McCoy's shoulder, closing his eyes. It was warmer there, anyway. It would let him think for a little while, even if he didn't want to.
[11] Collide (Howie Day) The grumpy, bitter doctor was gone and standing there was this fucking good-looking guy with warm eyes and a kind smile. Jim stared in shock, blinking slowly. "...Len?" Just to be sure.
[12] Crashed (Daughtry, accoustic) The last hour was spent zig-zagging through traffic, bolting through small spaces between cars and trucks just trying to get ahead.
[13] The Pretender (Foo Fighters) Pike seemed to know every damn thing that could get under his skin, pulling him apart and making him think on something he had made a choice about a long, long time ago. That rebellion in Jim only came on stronger with the push of authority, with that voice of choice, that tone of possible destiny that could be in his hands. He made his own choices.
[14] Superman Tonight (Bon Jovi) "Felt old. You changed that." McCoy was speaking into Jim's skin, so softly it was hard to hear his words clearly. He was rubbing against Jim's hip, his breath catching as he spoke. "Want you so much."
[15] Dante's Prayer (Loreena McKennitt) Right now, he knew more than anything he couldn't stay here. Couldn't stay where he was so close to this man who kept making him question things, question his life, question himself.
[16] What Hurts The Most (Rascal Flatts) It wasn’t like he really expected Jim to stay, McCoy told himself. Well, maybe a little. A small hope that Jim might stick around, in the city at least. Maybe they could get to know each other under more normal circumstances. Wake up together warm in a real bed.
[17] Not Drunk Enough (Adele) But each morning as he left the infirmary, seeing the dawn breaking over the bay, McCoy looked out over the water and thought about Jim.
[18] Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol) Jim's head laid against his own and his hand found Jim's, sliding together with a practiced ease. Shouldn't have felt this good, this right... but it did.