He wants to trade the game he plays for shelter - [Quarters] - [Kirk, McCoy]

[behnd_blueyes]

He was late, coming back from his first shift since It had happened with Chapel's gift under one arm. He had a good excuse, should he need one, but he was tired and thoughtful as he entered, the probes in the bulkhead and door recognizing him as if it was his own room. He guessed--when he thought about it--it was. And maybe Chapel in her own way

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[sharpestscalpel]

It had been busier than an Andorian auction selling Vulcans for sex parties. The second-string nurses had picked up the shift work no problem, but they weren't as good at managing the pack of animals in uniforms who had smelled blood in the water.

Fucking Rien. Girl was a mess.

He'd hit himself with a hypo to clear up his headache but it hadn't done its work yet, was still working through his system because his head was still pounding. McCoy laid himself out on the bed on his back and kept the lights dark.

[sharpestscalpel]

If he didn't know better - and come to fucking think of it, McCoy wasn't sure he did know better - he'd think Kirk was developing a goddamn fondness for Chapel. Well shit. That was interesting. And potentially fucking useful if it didn't go to goddamn far.

"She's goddamn crazy for that knitting shit." He had several pairs himself. Comfiest socks ever. Not that he'd admit it to this fucking kid.

McCoy put his empty plate aside, rubbed his full belly in a comfortable gesture of satisfaction. "Hell, you take care of it that's one less thing I got to deal with on my own fucking plate. That woman has the occasional good idea."

[behnd_blueyes]

Maybe he was getting fond. Hard to say, it not being something he was used to. Hard to guard against something so stealthy, wrapped in a package of utter what-the-fuck that was nonetheless sort of pretty and vulnerable and broken.

"I think they were meant for you," he said, getting up to go get some mashed potatoes. "They're blue. Anyway I need to keep my hand in. Can't go getting rusty." And the bridge was boring.

[sharpestscalpel]

That was... also really damn interesting. Kirk wearing his socks. Huh. Made sense, though - Kirk was his. His right down to his fucking socks. McCoy liked that idea.

He watched Kirk start in on a pile of mashed potatoes. Kid could eat.

"What's your hand consist of in this fucking round?"

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk was not aware of McCoy's ideas. Which was probably best for all concerned. He crossed one leg over the other and wished the gravy had some bite to it. He didn't want to gain too much too fast, not until he figured out whether McCoy's interest would be kept, but after today he couldn't help himself.

"Figure the element of uncertainty, if not surprise, is pretty firmly mine," he said. "If I keep my head down on the bridge and look like a strong wind'll blow me over, and word gets around I'm still a player, I've got some mystery left. Hell, even if word doesn't, Martens isn't expecting it and it's not like I don't have any ground to make up."

[sharpestscalpel]

"A little fist of fucking god reputation never hurt anyone. Just be careful you don't piss off Uhura in the process."

[behnd_blueyes]

Kirk looked up.

"She's fucking always pissed," he said. "Trick is not to let her have anything to pin on me she has to do anything about. She wants me in her sight, which means she doesn't want me gone unless I give her a good excuse."

[sharpestscalpel]

"What's your good fucking excuse then?"

McCoy slithered down until he was stretched out again, undid the button on his pants. Comfortable.

[behnd_blueyes]

"Moving against her openly, mostly," he said. "She'll be watching for something legit. It's how she does, at least for now." He replaced his dishes and returned to the bed, laying back at the foot. "You're an unknown quantity. So'm I, though she isn't quite sure yet. She won't mind making an example of me, if I step wrong, but I need to get out of line."

[sharpestscalpel]

McCoy nodded, eyes closed as he listened to Kirk. Sometimes you could hear everything about a person. Sometimes you had to look. McCoy wanted to learn Kirk in the dark so he'd always be able to tell.

Kirk was a fucking interesting project.

"You got a plan for fucking with Martens that won't read like you fucking with Uhura?"

[behnd_blueyes]

McCoy wasn't even looking at him. Trust or confidence, either one was interesting.

"I think I can be fairly convincing without harming a hair on his precious head," he said. "She won't have any reason to think it's a political maneuver, though she'll look for the angle. Might make her angry when she can't find one, but I'd worry more about my gathering allies, if I were her, than warning grabby assholes off your nurses."

[sharpestscalpel]

"She still figure you're puppet mastering me?"

He cracked one eye to look at Kirk - he wanted to learn him but McCoy wasn't going to pass up watching Kirk's response to that.

[behnd_blueyes]

He smiled slowly, watching McCoy's face from his position on his back, head turned to the side.

"Marking what's mine, taking care of my own," he agreed. He paused for a moment, his smile not faltering. "Works just as well the other way. Me doing your bidding."

[sharpestscalpel]

"Don't bother me." His eye closed again.

Wasn't this fucking cozy? They might as well be damn well cuddling or some shit.

[behnd_blueyes]

Except Kirk didn't fucking cuddle. He looked back up at the ceiling. Thinking. No one would know, on the outside, what they were up to. Who was on top, who pulled the strings. And he found he was okay with that, too. Was okay, really, with not knowing himself. It was interesting, after all. And he was so easily bored. McCoy kept him on his toes, even on his back, and precious few had managed that. Not like he had.

Martens would be fun.

[sharpestscalpel]

McCoy cuddled. He liked it. He shifted to his side and reached out an arm to haul Kirk closer to him. That was more fucking like it.