Fic: Vice
So, I think I want to do a Dog Days of Summer thing starting tomorrow... assuming the LJ lives. LIVE LJ!!!
Vice
Summary: All those small bumps on the road to life. Last in the Camels. Kirk/McCoy | PG-13 | Follows Riding Waves
Notes: You know! I finished a WIP!
McCoy’s problem ends like this:
Three days after his detox, he and Chapel were checking a new shipment of supplies when he saw it.
Innocuous small bottles filled with that deathly elixir.
Chapel was turned away from him and his hands were itching. He slipped one into his pocket and went on counting the rest of the pharmaceuticals.
It’s too bulky. He swore Chapel could see the small cylinder in his pocket. He attempted to walk behind her on their way back to the main Sickbay hoping that she wouldn’t notice
“Doctor? Are you staring at my ass?”
“What? No!” McCoy stuttered out.
“Stop walking three steps behind me. It’s weird.”
McCoy sped up and walked three steps in front of her. He walked into his office and does everything but slam the door. He placed the small vial on his desk and sat down.
The thing was McCoy knows the stats and studies on relapse. He knows that Jim hadn’t reported him so no one (except Jim) would be watching him. He knows that he needs to avoid triggers and make
amends, but his whole profession is a goddamn trigger and he knows he can’t leave Jim.
He decided to go to the gym.
Three miles on the treadmill later he walked (on wobbly legs) back to the Sickbay.
Chapel stared at him as he walked in.
“What? I took a late lunch…”
“You hate running.”
“I hate stupid questions, doesn’t mean people don’t ask them.”
“The Captain stopped by while you were out,” Chapel called out as he closes the door to his office.
The small vial still sat on his desk.
He loaded a half dose for his body weight in a hypospray and his hand hovered over his thigh. He was so close to not doing it, he was so close to doing- just releasing the mechanism when the comm vibrated and Chapel was telling him that someone has second and third degree burns on their right arm.
McCoy threw the hypospray into a drawer in his desk and randomly set a new lock code on the drawer.
He doesn’t write it down.
Three hours later he’s back in his office closing down his computer for the end of his shift when Chapel stopped by and hands him a pack of cigarettes.
“I don’t smoke.”
“They’re tobacco-less…just try one.”
He left them on his desk and went back to his room. A few hours later there was a chime from the door, he put a note on the page of the journal article he was reading (trauma surgery outcomes) as Jim walked
into the room.
“How was it, then?” Jim asked.
McCoy caught Jim’s arm as he walked by and yanked. Unprepared for the sudden movement, Jim
stumbled and landed on top of McCoy who smashed their lips together in a brutal kiss.
*
The next day McCoy tried to open the drawer. His override wasn’t working because it’s his own damn clearance that he used to lock the drawer in the first place. He’s contemplating calling tech support, but no…they would see what was in it. He didn’t want the hypospray anyway. He didn’t need it after all, he had been through detox. He couldn’t need it. He felt unreal. This could not be his life.
He sat heavily on his chair and saw the pack of girly-cigarettes Chapel had left. What the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He had smoked occasionally while drunk in college, so the first intake was harsh, but he didn’t cough. He fingered the pack and read the description. Apparently, it was musky peach clove designed to provide a soothing experience. Horseshit. Marketing executives were really the devil in some ways.
After about ten minutes of smoking and skimming the incident reports from the rest of his staff he did feel a little better.
Placebo effect, it had to be.
A whole five seconds later the smoke alarm let off a piercing shriek and the lights flashed red.
So much for creating peace.
McCoy safely snubbed out the cigarette in his pen cup.
“Computer, stop alarm omega-three-alpha-five,” McCoy said as he walked out of his office.
“You realize we have a designated smoking area on the ship, don’t you?” Chapel said.
He ignored her question and gestured for her to follow him.
Chapel stared at him as he checked on patients. He found it unnerving to be under her scrutiny. He wanted say something to her, but he couldn’t find the words to explain.
He settled for complementing her technical skills and bedside manner at the end of their shift.
*
A week later, the temperature in Jim’s room was just an inch on the side of too cool. McCoy sat on the edge of the bed, naked save the dark gray blanket that covered one hip and half of his leg.
“Bones?” Jim sleepily slurred at him from the other side of the bed.
“Yeah, I’m here,” McCoy said rolling back onto the bed. Jim curled up on his side as McCoy put his arm around him. Jim was so very warm and solid. The strange airy feeling he had been feeling for the past week seemed to vanish as he traced the faint freckles on Jim’s shoulder.
*
Jim’s problem ends like this:
He’s mostly warm save for this sliver of cool air that keeps hitting his back. He turns and tries to close the gap, but is impeded by something.
“Bones?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” There is a shift in the bed and a slightly cooler body is pulling the blankets up over them both and tracing a line on his shoulder. He feels his left ankle throbbing slightly from the slight sprain he got when he tripped on the treadmill. He feels Bones’ warm breath on his hair as he falls back asleep.
*
End
Vice
Summary: All those small bumps on the road to life. Last in the Camels. Kirk/McCoy | PG-13 | Follows Riding Waves
Notes: You know! I finished a WIP!
McCoy’s problem ends like this:
Three days after his detox, he and Chapel were checking a new shipment of supplies when he saw it.
Innocuous small bottles filled with that deathly elixir.
Chapel was turned away from him and his hands were itching. He slipped one into his pocket and went on counting the rest of the pharmaceuticals.
It’s too bulky. He swore Chapel could see the small cylinder in his pocket. He attempted to walk behind her on their way back to the main Sickbay hoping that she wouldn’t notice
“Doctor? Are you staring at my ass?”
“What? No!” McCoy stuttered out.
“Stop walking three steps behind me. It’s weird.”
McCoy sped up and walked three steps in front of her. He walked into his office and does everything but slam the door. He placed the small vial on his desk and sat down.
The thing was McCoy knows the stats and studies on relapse. He knows that Jim hadn’t reported him so no one (except Jim) would be watching him. He knows that he needs to avoid triggers and make
amends, but his whole profession is a goddamn trigger and he knows he can’t leave Jim.
He decided to go to the gym.
Three miles on the treadmill later he walked (on wobbly legs) back to the Sickbay.
Chapel stared at him as he walked in.
“What? I took a late lunch…”
“You hate running.”
“I hate stupid questions, doesn’t mean people don’t ask them.”
“The Captain stopped by while you were out,” Chapel called out as he closes the door to his office.
The small vial still sat on his desk.
He loaded a half dose for his body weight in a hypospray and his hand hovered over his thigh. He was so close to not doing it, he was so close to doing- just releasing the mechanism when the comm vibrated and Chapel was telling him that someone has second and third degree burns on their right arm.
McCoy threw the hypospray into a drawer in his desk and randomly set a new lock code on the drawer.
He doesn’t write it down.
Three hours later he’s back in his office closing down his computer for the end of his shift when Chapel stopped by and hands him a pack of cigarettes.
“I don’t smoke.”
“They’re tobacco-less…just try one.”
He left them on his desk and went back to his room. A few hours later there was a chime from the door, he put a note on the page of the journal article he was reading (trauma surgery outcomes) as Jim walked
into the room.
“How was it, then?” Jim asked.
McCoy caught Jim’s arm as he walked by and yanked. Unprepared for the sudden movement, Jim
stumbled and landed on top of McCoy who smashed their lips together in a brutal kiss.
*
The next day McCoy tried to open the drawer. His override wasn’t working because it’s his own damn clearance that he used to lock the drawer in the first place. He’s contemplating calling tech support, but no…they would see what was in it. He didn’t want the hypospray anyway. He didn’t need it after all, he had been through detox. He couldn’t need it. He felt unreal. This could not be his life.
He sat heavily on his chair and saw the pack of girly-cigarettes Chapel had left. What the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He had smoked occasionally while drunk in college, so the first intake was harsh, but he didn’t cough. He fingered the pack and read the description. Apparently, it was musky peach clove designed to provide a soothing experience. Horseshit. Marketing executives were really the devil in some ways.
After about ten minutes of smoking and skimming the incident reports from the rest of his staff he did feel a little better.
Placebo effect, it had to be.
A whole five seconds later the smoke alarm let off a piercing shriek and the lights flashed red.
So much for creating peace.
McCoy safely snubbed out the cigarette in his pen cup.
“Computer, stop alarm omega-three-alpha-five,” McCoy said as he walked out of his office.
“You realize we have a designated smoking area on the ship, don’t you?” Chapel said.
He ignored her question and gestured for her to follow him.
Chapel stared at him as he checked on patients. He found it unnerving to be under her scrutiny. He wanted say something to her, but he couldn’t find the words to explain.
He settled for complementing her technical skills and bedside manner at the end of their shift.
*
A week later, the temperature in Jim’s room was just an inch on the side of too cool. McCoy sat on the edge of the bed, naked save the dark gray blanket that covered one hip and half of his leg.
“Bones?” Jim sleepily slurred at him from the other side of the bed.
“Yeah, I’m here,” McCoy said rolling back onto the bed. Jim curled up on his side as McCoy put his arm around him. Jim was so very warm and solid. The strange airy feeling he had been feeling for the past week seemed to vanish as he traced the faint freckles on Jim’s shoulder.
*
Jim’s problem ends like this:
He’s mostly warm save for this sliver of cool air that keeps hitting his back. He turns and tries to close the gap, but is impeded by something.
“Bones?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” There is a shift in the bed and a slightly cooler body is pulling the blankets up over them both and tracing a line on his shoulder. He feels his left ankle throbbing slightly from the slight sprain he got when he tripped on the treadmill. He feels Bones’ warm breath on his hair as he falls back asleep.
*
End