[fic] all you can do is do what you must
all you can do is do what you must
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Ship: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: Adult (for sex and language)
Summary: Early in his captaincy, a mission goes badly (though it could have been much, much worse) and Kirk doesn't take it so well.
A/N: 3,270 words. The original prompt, which I gave myself, was "spooning." It mutated into this plotty, character study thing.
Jim had hoped to find Bones waiting for him when he got off-duty at 2400 hours. Instead, he found the lights off in his quarters and his bed empty, the covers as smooth as he’d left them that morning. The bathroom was equally pristine, not a single dark hair in the sink. At least Bones’s spare toothbrush was still there, leaning against Jim’s in the plastic cup with the picture of the Golden Gate Bridge.
So, Jim was still in the doghouse.
Fuck it, he thought. It had been a long day; he didn’t need a bitchy boyfriend.
“Long day,” he muttered, leaning against the sink, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. He laughed weakly because long did not begin to cover it. The mission had been FUBAR from the beginning, but Admiral Benson had insisted he try anyway. Detuvan was rich in mineral deposits, and the population wouldn’t stand a chance against the Klingons or the Orions if they took an interest, armed as they were with swords and daggers. The Detuvanese had everything to gain from joining the Federation, including technology they were unlikely to discover for themselves for decades, if not centuries.
“Give ‘em the old Kirk charm,” Benson had said, in an avuncular manner that had made Jim wince inwardly, “and they’ll see reason.”
Not twenty minutes into the mission, Jim and the rest of the away team had been convinced that the Detuvanese did not understand the meaning of the word “reason.” Ass-backward, superstitious, self-righteous motherfuckers. That wasn’t what he was calling them in his official report to Starfleet, but that was how he thought of them in his head, and how he’d inadvertently referred to them - twice - when he’d debriefed Spock after beaming back to the ship.
The first time, Spock had raised his eyebrows and Jim had been forced to pause mid-rant and assure his first officer that no, the Detuvanese did not - as far as he knew - copulate with their mothers, at least not on a regular basis. The second time, he’d raised his own eyebrows, daring Spock to challenge his assessment.
He hadn’t convinced the Detuvanese to join the Federation. He was pretty sure he’d failed to convince them that the Klingons, Orions, and Romulans were very real threats to their comparatively peaceful lives, never mind their mineral deposits. He’d nearly lost three officers on that fucking planet, including Bones.
Sliding off the sink, Jim turned and studied himself in the mirror. He looked like shit, he thought. He was pale, and there were circles under his eyes. Actual goddamn circles. His stubble looked like dirt. He scratched at it and was mildly surprised when his fingernails came away dirty.
It’s been a long day.
He should just take a shower, he knew. Get clean, then fall into bed and shut his eyes on the world for a while. If Bones wasn’t in Sickbay - and Jim really hoped that he wasn’t - he was in his own room. Safe, in other words. Not violating the Prime Directive in the name of Hippocrates, not lashed to a stake, about to be burned to death or hacked to pieces, or whatever the fuck the village elders had had in mind as punishment for doing what he and Lieutenants Park and de Soto thought was right.
At least, Jim thought as he raked his fingers through his hair, the ol' Kirk charm had been good for something today. He'd managed to convince the Detuvanese to release their prisoners, though for a few very bad moments he'd thought he was going to have to fight - physically - for Park. Maybe it was because she was a woman. Maybe it was because she was of Korean descent. Whatever the reason, they'd slashed the ropes holding McCoy and de Soto, but they'd left Park bound to the stake. Her eyes had met Jim's, and the look that flashed across them - Captain, I don't want to die here, like this - had pierced him like an icicle.
Swallowing his nausea, fingers twitching mere inches above his phaser, he'd promised her silently, You are not dying here, like this, Lieutenant. And turned back to the Detuvanese with renewed…
"Charm," he said sullenly to his reflection.
Well, he hadn't lost Park. Or Bones, despite the good doctor's very best efforts. Benson could kiss his ass; at least he didn't have to write to any family members, informing them that their son or daughter had died bravely (senselessly, it almost always seemed to Jim) in the line of duty.
His gaze slid sideways and downward to the toothbrushes, resting together in their little plastic cup. They'd picked it up at a shop full of tacky souvenirs, the day Bones passed his flight exam. Anticipating a victory, Jim had obtained a bottle of champagne a day or two beforehand. After the test, he'd borrowed a car from a friend and whisked Bones to the beach for a celebratory drink. Once they got there, he'd realized he'd forgotten the cups, which was bad because you couldn't toast without cups.
The matching cup was in Bones's bathroom, along with Jim's spare toothbrush.
Fuck it.
Bones was mad at Jim because he'd followed regulations, because he'd refused to let him martyr himself for his oath.
No, Jim thought, as he drew in a long, shaky breath. That was untrue and unfair. Bones was mad because his efforts to help the Detuvanese had nearly cost de Soto and Park their lives. And also because Jim had been an asshole. Jim had been right, but he'd still been an asshole. He could have been more understanding, but he'd been so pissed off - at the Detuvanese, at Benson, at himself for failing to do what he'd been asked. He'd only been captain of the Enterprise for seven months; he was still convinced that half the admiralty saw him as their golden boy, their whiz kid, and the other half saw him as a catalyst for an interstellar war just waiting to happen. It was a fuckload of pressure, even if it meant nothing in the face of keeping his crew alive, and he'd taken his frustration out on Bones, lashed out when he should have leaned against him in sympathy.
Fuck it, fuck it.
He used to get wound up like this all the time, when he was younger. Between the pressure to be just like his dad - as if Jim owed the universe for the life that had bought his own - and the disappointment he saw in the eyes of his mother, her co-workers, his teachers, there was this void he'd try to cast himself into, with alcohol and idiotic stunts and just about any willing woman or man. Pussy, dick, a shiny car that went really fast, a fist swinging toward his face - it hadn't really mattered. The point had been that moment, that feeling of leaving it all behind: his thoughts, his guilt, everyone else's expectations. Orgasm, concussion, adrenalin high. A really good buzz. Whatever it took to get him out of his skin, his bones.
His bones.
Fuck it. He wasn't that kid anymore. He knew what he needed.
Five minutes later, he was outside Bones's room. He should have commed ahead, he knew; Bones had been off-duty since releasing de Soto and Park from Sickbay, just a little after the return from Detuvan. For all Jim knew, he'd gone to sleep early. It would've been the smart, logical thing to do. Jim palmed the door chime anyway, and was immensely gratified when Bones, sounding groggy but not like he'd just been roused from a deep slumber, called out, "Enter."
Bones was in bed, the covers drawn up to his waist. He lay on his side, propped up by his elbow and a couple of pillows. There was a PADD in front of him.
"What are you reading?" Jim asked as the door closed behind him.
"Oliver Wendell Holmes," Bones replied without looking up. His fingers moved deftly over the PADD's smooth surface. "Louis Pasteur. Sara Josephine Baker."
"Bedtime stories?"
"Yeah, Jim. Did you know that Baker's efforts saved over a thousand lives in a single summer? One doctor. A thousand lives. Did you know that thirty doctors protested when the Bureau of Child Hygiene was formed in 1908? More healthy women and children meant fewer patients. Assholes."
"I didn't know that," Jim said. "About Baker and the doctors protesting, I mean. I know hygiene is a good thing." Though you wouldn't know it to look at me, he thought. He should've at least washed his face before coming over here. He wished Bones would look up so he could tell if he was still angry or not. "And I know you know that too," he went on. "In fact, I'm betting that stuff you're poring over now is stuff you memorized a long time ago. Which begs the question-"
"Hygiene, Jim. Sterilization of surgical instruments. Pasteurization. Plain old hand-washing." He gave the PADD a frustrated tap. "We've come a long way in three hundred years."
"The Detuvanese will get there."
"If they don't all die from preventable diseases first."
"We didn't," Jim said with a shrug.
Bones glanced up at him then. In the room's dimmed lighting, his eyes were dark and somber. His lips were curved downward and the creases between and above his eyebrows looked as if they'd been gouged by talons. Jim wanted to tilt Bones's face back and kiss life and light back into it. But he had to say a few things first.
"I don't want to argue about this," he said in a level tone. "Speaking as your commanding officer, your intentions were good, if misguided."
"Well, thank you, Captain," Bones drawled.
"Shut up. I said I don't want to argue. Prime Directive … blah, blah, blah."
Bones cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Don't want to give a speech, either," said Jim. "I'm fucking tired, and you know it anyway. Or, if you don't, you can read the mission report. So, that was me speaking as your commanding officer. Speaking as your friend … fuck it, Bones. I hope you and Park and de Soto were able to teach the Detuvanese healers a thing or two before the elders hauled you off to be executed. I really do. And I hope they don't end up paying for it."
"Me too."
"And I meant what I said. If you'd tried to go back and talk to them, I'd've stunned your ass into next week. I can't lose you." Just saying the words unraveled him completely. All the tension he'd been carrying with his shoulders dropped suddenly to his belly, chilling and dizzying him. "I can't lose you," he said again, in a child's voice. He took a faltering step toward the bed.
Bones moved quickly. He turned off the PADD, dropped it onto the nightstand, flicked back the covers, and reached for Jim. A moment later, they were in each other's arms. There was no grace to it: Jim started shivering and couldn't stop, and Bones seemed to have sprouted extra knees and elbows; every way Jim maneuvered his body, he banged into something sharp.
"Stop it," Bones was whispering against his ear. "Just - Jim, relax. God, just-"
"I can't," Jim muttered, pressing his cheek to Bones's shoulder. That worked, but the rest of his body was still having trouble fitting itself to Bones's. He felt like ice: rigid, slippery. He was going to shatter. "I can't."
"Shh." Bones's fingers kneaded the back of his neck, then slid into his hair. His other arm wound about Jim's waist, holding him close, holding him up. "I'm sorry."
"Me too. I wish we could've done more for them. I really do. I want to hate them for what they tried to do to you and the others, but - I wish we could've helped." Feeling slightly better - Bones had slipped a hand under his shirts, and it was so warm against his skin - he added wryly, "That's your influence, you know."
"Bullshit." Bones kissed the nape of his neck. "There's a reason you're the captain, and it's not because you're pretty and test well. Not only. And I had nothing to do with that." Bones kissed him again. "All right. It's late. We're both exhausted. Get under the covers."
"I didn't bring my pajamas."
Bones sat back and frowned at him. "You are out of it. Since when have you not treated my room as a clothing-optional space? If you're cold, you can borrow some of my stuff. You know that. Come on."
As Bones helped him out of his uniform, Jim noticed the rope burns on his wrists. He touched them tentatively and Bones paused and looked at him. "Thought you took care of these when you treated Park and de Soto."
Bones shrugged. "Minor. Soap, water, a little antiseptic cream. They'll heal on their own."
"And that's my influence right there, isn't it? Or are you trying to punish yourself for failing?"
For several long moments, Bones just studied him. Jim's stomach tightened as he waited. I went too far, he thought. He apologized, I apologized, and then I gave him another shove. Fuck.
But then Bones just gave his head a small shake, cupped Jim's cheek, and kissed his mouth softly. "You're a real pain in the ass, kid. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
Bones turned his hand over and caressed Jim's cheek with his knuckles. He kissed him again, more deeply this time, and Jim responded finally. Letting his eyelids droop, as if in surrender, he opened his mouth and lifted his hands to stroke Bones's forearms, taking care to avoid the raw skin at his wrists. Bones hummed approval and Jim relaxed a little more. It was going to be all right.
Then Bones had an arm around his shoulders and was turning him, easing him back against the pillows. Once Jim was supine, Bones broke the kiss.
"Lights off," he said.
Jim thought that Bones was going to curl up next to him, and he waited. Instead, he felt the mattress jounce slightly as Bones moved back around to his knees and began tugging at his pants. Jim swallowed. In all honesty, he wasn't sure he felt up to sex, but since he didn't know if that was what Bones had in mind, he lay there, unwontedly passive, and let Bones finish undressing him.
As it turned out, sex was what Bones had in mind, but it was hard to protest when Bones was basically fucking his mouth with his tongue, and stroking him with a broad, saliva-slicked palm. Jim felt the soft slide of cotton against his shins, and the hot, insistent press of Bones's erection against his thigh. In another minute, he decided he didn't want to protest, since his own dick was informing him in the usual manner that yes, he was up for it, and anyway, Bones's body was so warm, and the friction felt so damn good.
He groaned when Bones broke the kiss, and reached for him, but Bones batted his hands away. The mattress jounced again as Bones repositioned himself between Jim's legs. Strong hands gripped Jim's hips, which prevented him from bucking as Bones bent and began to lick slow, almost languorous circles around his navel. His soft bangs tickled the taut skin of Jim's belly, causing him to shake with what should have been laughter, but wasn't.
He was hard by now, and needing more than just fingers and tongue. The knot in his stomach had tightened again, and he needed Bones to do something about that too, but when he opened his mouth, the only thing that emerged was a strangled moan. Fortunately, Bones seemed to understand. He gave Jim's belly a final swipe with his tongue, then shifted again, moving his hands to Jim's thighs so he could nudge them wider apart. Jim moaned again and fisted the sheets as Bones breathed hot puffs of air against his balls, then began to lick his way up with teasing, almost delicate flicks and strokes.
By the time Bones reached the tip, Jim's insides were so tied up in knots, he could hardly breathe. He was only dimly aware when Bones took him completely into his mouth, and that was too bad because he usually loved it when Bones went down on him, but the knots were so tight they were actually starting to burn, and his body shook under the onslaught of mingled pain and pleasure. Bones's fingers dug into his hips, bruising him, steadying him.
When he came, it was with a tremendous jolt because he hadn't been ready for it, hadn't realized how close he was to the edge until he was over it. Bones held him as he came unraveled for a second time that night, held him through the rush of white noise, the heat, and the aftershocks. Bones didn't actually let him go until some time after he'd stilled, and when he did let go, it wasn't for long. The room's cool, dry air barely had time to brush his sensitized skin before Bones's arms and the blanket were back around him, and he was being cuddled close.
Bones's breath tickled the skin behind his ear. "Better?"
Jim grunted his affirmation.
"Good." Bones pressed a kiss into his damp hair and hugged him tighter. "Warm enough?"
"Yeah."
Bones was quiet, his heart thudding against Jim's back. At length, Jim said, "Hey, what about you? Are you - ?"
"It can wait until morning. Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Speaking as your chief medical officer and as a member of your senior staff, you did well today. That's my honest, uncompromised evaluation. You did what Starfleet asked."
"I didn't succeed."
"No, but I don't think anyone could've. You made your argument and you made it well. The Detuvanese weren't interested in what the Federation had to offer."
"They might change their minds when the Klingons and Orions find out they're sitting on a fortune in ore."
He felt Bones shrug. "They might. I wouldn't be surprised if we end up back there someday. But my point is, you did everything right, and you didn't lose anyone. That's the most important thing. You saved three lives today, including mine, and that's … that's…"
Bones seemed to have found himself at a loss.
"Not a thousand."
"Jim, a single life is worth more than any amount of ore."
Jim wasn't so sure Starfleet believed that, but he knew Bones did with all his heart, so he didn't try to contradict him. "So," he said instead, "you're not still mad that I didn't let you stay and lecture them on sanitation and hygiene?"
"I'm not mad at you."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I’m sure." Nuzzling his neck gently, Bones said, "And that's speaking as your friend, as someone who loves you. I love you, kid." Bones's breath barely stirred Jim's hair as he whispered those last words. It wasn't the first time he'd said them, but they sounded so newborn and fragile to Jim's ear.
He didn't answer back. Not with words, anyway. He caught one of Bones's hands and raised it to his lips. He felt Bones's sharp inhalation as he kissed the rope burns, then he felt him relax.
Long day.
He felt frayed but mostly whole. Bones was right; he'd done everything possible, short of breaking the rules. And who was to say that breaking the rules would have benefited anyone in this instance? He'd failed, but he hadn't lost. Lieutenants Park and de Soto were alive, safe, and - he hoped - asleep in their beds. He was half-asleep in Bones's.
For the first time that day, a smile touched Jim's lips. Just that small, small act made him feel better. He kissed Bones again, then closed his eyes.
It would be all right.
11/24/09
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Ship: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: Adult (for sex and language)
Summary: Early in his captaincy, a mission goes badly (though it could have been much, much worse) and Kirk doesn't take it so well.
A/N: 3,270 words. The original prompt, which I gave myself, was "spooning." It mutated into this plotty, character study thing.
Jim had hoped to find Bones waiting for him when he got off-duty at 2400 hours. Instead, he found the lights off in his quarters and his bed empty, the covers as smooth as he’d left them that morning. The bathroom was equally pristine, not a single dark hair in the sink. At least Bones’s spare toothbrush was still there, leaning against Jim’s in the plastic cup with the picture of the Golden Gate Bridge.
So, Jim was still in the doghouse.
Fuck it, he thought. It had been a long day; he didn’t need a bitchy boyfriend.
“Long day,” he muttered, leaning against the sink, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. He laughed weakly because long did not begin to cover it. The mission had been FUBAR from the beginning, but Admiral Benson had insisted he try anyway. Detuvan was rich in mineral deposits, and the population wouldn’t stand a chance against the Klingons or the Orions if they took an interest, armed as they were with swords and daggers. The Detuvanese had everything to gain from joining the Federation, including technology they were unlikely to discover for themselves for decades, if not centuries.
“Give ‘em the old Kirk charm,” Benson had said, in an avuncular manner that had made Jim wince inwardly, “and they’ll see reason.”
Not twenty minutes into the mission, Jim and the rest of the away team had been convinced that the Detuvanese did not understand the meaning of the word “reason.” Ass-backward, superstitious, self-righteous motherfuckers. That wasn’t what he was calling them in his official report to Starfleet, but that was how he thought of them in his head, and how he’d inadvertently referred to them - twice - when he’d debriefed Spock after beaming back to the ship.
The first time, Spock had raised his eyebrows and Jim had been forced to pause mid-rant and assure his first officer that no, the Detuvanese did not - as far as he knew - copulate with their mothers, at least not on a regular basis. The second time, he’d raised his own eyebrows, daring Spock to challenge his assessment.
He hadn’t convinced the Detuvanese to join the Federation. He was pretty sure he’d failed to convince them that the Klingons, Orions, and Romulans were very real threats to their comparatively peaceful lives, never mind their mineral deposits. He’d nearly lost three officers on that fucking planet, including Bones.
Sliding off the sink, Jim turned and studied himself in the mirror. He looked like shit, he thought. He was pale, and there were circles under his eyes. Actual goddamn circles. His stubble looked like dirt. He scratched at it and was mildly surprised when his fingernails came away dirty.
It’s been a long day.
He should just take a shower, he knew. Get clean, then fall into bed and shut his eyes on the world for a while. If Bones wasn’t in Sickbay - and Jim really hoped that he wasn’t - he was in his own room. Safe, in other words. Not violating the Prime Directive in the name of Hippocrates, not lashed to a stake, about to be burned to death or hacked to pieces, or whatever the fuck the village elders had had in mind as punishment for doing what he and Lieutenants Park and de Soto thought was right.
At least, Jim thought as he raked his fingers through his hair, the ol' Kirk charm had been good for something today. He'd managed to convince the Detuvanese to release their prisoners, though for a few very bad moments he'd thought he was going to have to fight - physically - for Park. Maybe it was because she was a woman. Maybe it was because she was of Korean descent. Whatever the reason, they'd slashed the ropes holding McCoy and de Soto, but they'd left Park bound to the stake. Her eyes had met Jim's, and the look that flashed across them - Captain, I don't want to die here, like this - had pierced him like an icicle.
Swallowing his nausea, fingers twitching mere inches above his phaser, he'd promised her silently, You are not dying here, like this, Lieutenant. And turned back to the Detuvanese with renewed…
"Charm," he said sullenly to his reflection.
Well, he hadn't lost Park. Or Bones, despite the good doctor's very best efforts. Benson could kiss his ass; at least he didn't have to write to any family members, informing them that their son or daughter had died bravely (senselessly, it almost always seemed to Jim) in the line of duty.
His gaze slid sideways and downward to the toothbrushes, resting together in their little plastic cup. They'd picked it up at a shop full of tacky souvenirs, the day Bones passed his flight exam. Anticipating a victory, Jim had obtained a bottle of champagne a day or two beforehand. After the test, he'd borrowed a car from a friend and whisked Bones to the beach for a celebratory drink. Once they got there, he'd realized he'd forgotten the cups, which was bad because you couldn't toast without cups.
The matching cup was in Bones's bathroom, along with Jim's spare toothbrush.
Fuck it.
Bones was mad at Jim because he'd followed regulations, because he'd refused to let him martyr himself for his oath.
No, Jim thought, as he drew in a long, shaky breath. That was untrue and unfair. Bones was mad because his efforts to help the Detuvanese had nearly cost de Soto and Park their lives. And also because Jim had been an asshole. Jim had been right, but he'd still been an asshole. He could have been more understanding, but he'd been so pissed off - at the Detuvanese, at Benson, at himself for failing to do what he'd been asked. He'd only been captain of the Enterprise for seven months; he was still convinced that half the admiralty saw him as their golden boy, their whiz kid, and the other half saw him as a catalyst for an interstellar war just waiting to happen. It was a fuckload of pressure, even if it meant nothing in the face of keeping his crew alive, and he'd taken his frustration out on Bones, lashed out when he should have leaned against him in sympathy.
Fuck it, fuck it.
He used to get wound up like this all the time, when he was younger. Between the pressure to be just like his dad - as if Jim owed the universe for the life that had bought his own - and the disappointment he saw in the eyes of his mother, her co-workers, his teachers, there was this void he'd try to cast himself into, with alcohol and idiotic stunts and just about any willing woman or man. Pussy, dick, a shiny car that went really fast, a fist swinging toward his face - it hadn't really mattered. The point had been that moment, that feeling of leaving it all behind: his thoughts, his guilt, everyone else's expectations. Orgasm, concussion, adrenalin high. A really good buzz. Whatever it took to get him out of his skin, his bones.
His bones.
Fuck it. He wasn't that kid anymore. He knew what he needed.
Five minutes later, he was outside Bones's room. He should have commed ahead, he knew; Bones had been off-duty since releasing de Soto and Park from Sickbay, just a little after the return from Detuvan. For all Jim knew, he'd gone to sleep early. It would've been the smart, logical thing to do. Jim palmed the door chime anyway, and was immensely gratified when Bones, sounding groggy but not like he'd just been roused from a deep slumber, called out, "Enter."
Bones was in bed, the covers drawn up to his waist. He lay on his side, propped up by his elbow and a couple of pillows. There was a PADD in front of him.
"What are you reading?" Jim asked as the door closed behind him.
"Oliver Wendell Holmes," Bones replied without looking up. His fingers moved deftly over the PADD's smooth surface. "Louis Pasteur. Sara Josephine Baker."
"Bedtime stories?"
"Yeah, Jim. Did you know that Baker's efforts saved over a thousand lives in a single summer? One doctor. A thousand lives. Did you know that thirty doctors protested when the Bureau of Child Hygiene was formed in 1908? More healthy women and children meant fewer patients. Assholes."
"I didn't know that," Jim said. "About Baker and the doctors protesting, I mean. I know hygiene is a good thing." Though you wouldn't know it to look at me, he thought. He should've at least washed his face before coming over here. He wished Bones would look up so he could tell if he was still angry or not. "And I know you know that too," he went on. "In fact, I'm betting that stuff you're poring over now is stuff you memorized a long time ago. Which begs the question-"
"Hygiene, Jim. Sterilization of surgical instruments. Pasteurization. Plain old hand-washing." He gave the PADD a frustrated tap. "We've come a long way in three hundred years."
"The Detuvanese will get there."
"If they don't all die from preventable diseases first."
"We didn't," Jim said with a shrug.
Bones glanced up at him then. In the room's dimmed lighting, his eyes were dark and somber. His lips were curved downward and the creases between and above his eyebrows looked as if they'd been gouged by talons. Jim wanted to tilt Bones's face back and kiss life and light back into it. But he had to say a few things first.
"I don't want to argue about this," he said in a level tone. "Speaking as your commanding officer, your intentions were good, if misguided."
"Well, thank you, Captain," Bones drawled.
"Shut up. I said I don't want to argue. Prime Directive … blah, blah, blah."
Bones cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Don't want to give a speech, either," said Jim. "I'm fucking tired, and you know it anyway. Or, if you don't, you can read the mission report. So, that was me speaking as your commanding officer. Speaking as your friend … fuck it, Bones. I hope you and Park and de Soto were able to teach the Detuvanese healers a thing or two before the elders hauled you off to be executed. I really do. And I hope they don't end up paying for it."
"Me too."
"And I meant what I said. If you'd tried to go back and talk to them, I'd've stunned your ass into next week. I can't lose you." Just saying the words unraveled him completely. All the tension he'd been carrying with his shoulders dropped suddenly to his belly, chilling and dizzying him. "I can't lose you," he said again, in a child's voice. He took a faltering step toward the bed.
Bones moved quickly. He turned off the PADD, dropped it onto the nightstand, flicked back the covers, and reached for Jim. A moment later, they were in each other's arms. There was no grace to it: Jim started shivering and couldn't stop, and Bones seemed to have sprouted extra knees and elbows; every way Jim maneuvered his body, he banged into something sharp.
"Stop it," Bones was whispering against his ear. "Just - Jim, relax. God, just-"
"I can't," Jim muttered, pressing his cheek to Bones's shoulder. That worked, but the rest of his body was still having trouble fitting itself to Bones's. He felt like ice: rigid, slippery. He was going to shatter. "I can't."
"Shh." Bones's fingers kneaded the back of his neck, then slid into his hair. His other arm wound about Jim's waist, holding him close, holding him up. "I'm sorry."
"Me too. I wish we could've done more for them. I really do. I want to hate them for what they tried to do to you and the others, but - I wish we could've helped." Feeling slightly better - Bones had slipped a hand under his shirts, and it was so warm against his skin - he added wryly, "That's your influence, you know."
"Bullshit." Bones kissed the nape of his neck. "There's a reason you're the captain, and it's not because you're pretty and test well. Not only. And I had nothing to do with that." Bones kissed him again. "All right. It's late. We're both exhausted. Get under the covers."
"I didn't bring my pajamas."
Bones sat back and frowned at him. "You are out of it. Since when have you not treated my room as a clothing-optional space? If you're cold, you can borrow some of my stuff. You know that. Come on."
As Bones helped him out of his uniform, Jim noticed the rope burns on his wrists. He touched them tentatively and Bones paused and looked at him. "Thought you took care of these when you treated Park and de Soto."
Bones shrugged. "Minor. Soap, water, a little antiseptic cream. They'll heal on their own."
"And that's my influence right there, isn't it? Or are you trying to punish yourself for failing?"
For several long moments, Bones just studied him. Jim's stomach tightened as he waited. I went too far, he thought. He apologized, I apologized, and then I gave him another shove. Fuck.
But then Bones just gave his head a small shake, cupped Jim's cheek, and kissed his mouth softly. "You're a real pain in the ass, kid. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know."
Bones turned his hand over and caressed Jim's cheek with his knuckles. He kissed him again, more deeply this time, and Jim responded finally. Letting his eyelids droop, as if in surrender, he opened his mouth and lifted his hands to stroke Bones's forearms, taking care to avoid the raw skin at his wrists. Bones hummed approval and Jim relaxed a little more. It was going to be all right.
Then Bones had an arm around his shoulders and was turning him, easing him back against the pillows. Once Jim was supine, Bones broke the kiss.
"Lights off," he said.
Jim thought that Bones was going to curl up next to him, and he waited. Instead, he felt the mattress jounce slightly as Bones moved back around to his knees and began tugging at his pants. Jim swallowed. In all honesty, he wasn't sure he felt up to sex, but since he didn't know if that was what Bones had in mind, he lay there, unwontedly passive, and let Bones finish undressing him.
As it turned out, sex was what Bones had in mind, but it was hard to protest when Bones was basically fucking his mouth with his tongue, and stroking him with a broad, saliva-slicked palm. Jim felt the soft slide of cotton against his shins, and the hot, insistent press of Bones's erection against his thigh. In another minute, he decided he didn't want to protest, since his own dick was informing him in the usual manner that yes, he was up for it, and anyway, Bones's body was so warm, and the friction felt so damn good.
He groaned when Bones broke the kiss, and reached for him, but Bones batted his hands away. The mattress jounced again as Bones repositioned himself between Jim's legs. Strong hands gripped Jim's hips, which prevented him from bucking as Bones bent and began to lick slow, almost languorous circles around his navel. His soft bangs tickled the taut skin of Jim's belly, causing him to shake with what should have been laughter, but wasn't.
He was hard by now, and needing more than just fingers and tongue. The knot in his stomach had tightened again, and he needed Bones to do something about that too, but when he opened his mouth, the only thing that emerged was a strangled moan. Fortunately, Bones seemed to understand. He gave Jim's belly a final swipe with his tongue, then shifted again, moving his hands to Jim's thighs so he could nudge them wider apart. Jim moaned again and fisted the sheets as Bones breathed hot puffs of air against his balls, then began to lick his way up with teasing, almost delicate flicks and strokes.
By the time Bones reached the tip, Jim's insides were so tied up in knots, he could hardly breathe. He was only dimly aware when Bones took him completely into his mouth, and that was too bad because he usually loved it when Bones went down on him, but the knots were so tight they were actually starting to burn, and his body shook under the onslaught of mingled pain and pleasure. Bones's fingers dug into his hips, bruising him, steadying him.
When he came, it was with a tremendous jolt because he hadn't been ready for it, hadn't realized how close he was to the edge until he was over it. Bones held him as he came unraveled for a second time that night, held him through the rush of white noise, the heat, and the aftershocks. Bones didn't actually let him go until some time after he'd stilled, and when he did let go, it wasn't for long. The room's cool, dry air barely had time to brush his sensitized skin before Bones's arms and the blanket were back around him, and he was being cuddled close.
Bones's breath tickled the skin behind his ear. "Better?"
Jim grunted his affirmation.
"Good." Bones pressed a kiss into his damp hair and hugged him tighter. "Warm enough?"
"Yeah."
Bones was quiet, his heart thudding against Jim's back. At length, Jim said, "Hey, what about you? Are you - ?"
"It can wait until morning. Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Speaking as your chief medical officer and as a member of your senior staff, you did well today. That's my honest, uncompromised evaluation. You did what Starfleet asked."
"I didn't succeed."
"No, but I don't think anyone could've. You made your argument and you made it well. The Detuvanese weren't interested in what the Federation had to offer."
"They might change their minds when the Klingons and Orions find out they're sitting on a fortune in ore."
He felt Bones shrug. "They might. I wouldn't be surprised if we end up back there someday. But my point is, you did everything right, and you didn't lose anyone. That's the most important thing. You saved three lives today, including mine, and that's … that's…"
Bones seemed to have found himself at a loss.
"Not a thousand."
"Jim, a single life is worth more than any amount of ore."
Jim wasn't so sure Starfleet believed that, but he knew Bones did with all his heart, so he didn't try to contradict him. "So," he said instead, "you're not still mad that I didn't let you stay and lecture them on sanitation and hygiene?"
"I'm not mad at you."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I’m sure." Nuzzling his neck gently, Bones said, "And that's speaking as your friend, as someone who loves you. I love you, kid." Bones's breath barely stirred Jim's hair as he whispered those last words. It wasn't the first time he'd said them, but they sounded so newborn and fragile to Jim's ear.
He didn't answer back. Not with words, anyway. He caught one of Bones's hands and raised it to his lips. He felt Bones's sharp inhalation as he kissed the rope burns, then he felt him relax.
Long day.
He felt frayed but mostly whole. Bones was right; he'd done everything possible, short of breaking the rules. And who was to say that breaking the rules would have benefited anyone in this instance? He'd failed, but he hadn't lost. Lieutenants Park and de Soto were alive, safe, and - he hoped - asleep in their beds. He was half-asleep in Bones's.
For the first time that day, a smile touched Jim's lips. Just that small, small act made him feel better. He kissed Bones again, then closed his eyes.
It would be all right.
11/24/09