PART FIFTEEN
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My profound apologies for being so late in putting this up and replying to... well, everything. I've been both ill recently and overwhelmed with schoolwork; not the best combo. Just chucking this up quickly while I have a minute.
ATTN: regarding reposts
As a new guideline: for ( Read more... )
Also, this is my first fic. Benicetomeplease?
“Jim?”
James Kirk turned his head to the right, blinking slowly. He’d been a few seconds from falling completely asleep, and he could sense that the comment had interrupted what might have been a really nice dream about a really attractive woman.
“Jim!”
Jim’s eyes snap open. He recognized that voice, and he especially recognized that tone. Before he even had a chance to think, he lunged for the bucket he’d stashed under his seat and handed it to the man sitting next to him. Leonard McCoy took it with a grateful look. He opened his mouth, possibly to say something, but all that came out was a wet burp. The doctor’s face turned a distinct shade of puce.
Jim supported the bucket with one hand, placing his other on Bones’ back and rubbing slow circles. McCoy ignored him, burying his face in the bucket while inhaling deep lungfuls of air through his mouth.
“You were doing pretty well,” Jim offers. “You made it half an hour this time. And I didn’t have to drag you out of the bathroom this time, either.”
Bones offered a weak chuckle that ended in another unpleasant burp. His skin paled a little, setting off the green hue further.
Jim continued rubbing his back slowly. It was like this every time they flew. At first, he had needed to physically drag McCoy out of the bathroom to his seat, and in his ignorance had been sprayed with vomit once or twice. But the past six months at the Starfleet academy, with regular flights, had seen drastic improvements in Bones’ ability to put up with aircraft.
He still threw up every damn time, though.
“It’s okay,” Jim said softly, glaring over Bones’ head at two older cadets who were laughing - laughing! - at McCoy’s troubles. Bones opened his mouth to say something, but was promptly interrupted by a spray of puke. Thankfully, most of the vomit made it in the bucket. Some did not.
The kid sitting next to Bones looked a little green himself as he wiped his vomit-streaked boot on the floor.
Jim leaned a little closer, ignoring the smell of vomit as he continued rubbing circles on his friend’s back. Bones swallowed hard, and went back to gulping air through his mouth. Jim knew that was his method for trying to keep his lunch down where it was supposed to be.
“Only a few more minutes, Bonesy,” he says quietly. “Ten minutes tops before you can get out of this hunk of junk.”
The whine caught Jim off guard. It was a quiet sound, so soft that even the kid on Bones’ other side didn’t seem to hear it. It was a desperate, needy sound that sent a weird shiver straight down his spine.
He didn’t have time to examine his reaction, though, as Bones immediately threw up again. The retching was even making him a little queasy, and that kid in the next seat did not look good.
“Jim?”
The quiet, panting voice brought his focus back to McCoy in a hurry. “What’s up?”
Bones rested his cheek on the edge of the bucket, wincing in displeasure as his face contacted with the cool plastic rim. He let out a tiny chuckle. “I don’t think I have anything left to throw up.”
Jim gave a tiny smile, prying the bucket away from him carefully. He set it on the floor and shoved it down the row with his foot. It stopped in front of the two (still smirking) cadets, both of whom paled and looked away from the mess. Reaching under his seat once again, he hauled out another bucket and placed it in Bones’ hands.
“You said that last time, remember? And then you puked all over the floor.”
Bones shot him a shit-eating grin, the kind he never, ever used otherwise, and went back to his deep breaths. Jim resumed his back rubbing.
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The shuttle shifted slightly, and Jim could feel the deceleration pulling at his body. Next to him, Bones breathed a sigh of relief. It took only a minute or two more before the craft stuttered to a stop.
While the other cadets raced to get off the craft (avoiding the half-full puke bucket at all costs), Jim sat quietly with Bones, waiting for his friend’s stomach to finally calm down. When it did, he gently took the empty bucket and set it on the seat, hovering protectively while Bones stood up and made his way to the exit.
Outside, Bones took a deep breath of fresh air. Jim patted him on the shoulder.
“Maybe next time we’ll make it through without the buckets.”
A corner of Bones’ mouth pulled downward. “Yeah, maybe.”
Jim patted him on the arm again, then grabbed his bag to leave.
“Hey, Jim?”
“Yeah?” he asked, holding McCoy’s bag out to him.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, buddy. That’s what friends are for.”
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Also,
But these flights were the only time Bones stopped being a snarky bastard for more than a second, they were the only time Bones ever depended on him for anything, and they were the only time he got to see that shit-eating smile.
totally captures a huge and important aspect of that kink, imo.
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So in conclusion: You are awesome, this is great (especially for a first fic - congratulations!) and thank you so much! :)
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