Kirk had been glad to get off the ship. Glad to have something to do, after months of wasting and then a flurry of confused emotions and nebulous goals
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McCoy was waiting. He'd pitched a fit in his office, his temper finally worn out after his meeting with Uhura, but he'd calmed down with an unnatural quickness when he'd gotten word that the away team was beaming back up.
M'Benga could clear the assholes and process the fucking redshirts who didn't make it back breathing. That was the whole fucking point of having another goddamn doctor there, after all.
So he sat in his customary chair - and it was even more his chair now that there was someone else who shared this space, who had a spot of his own over there on the couch. Goddammit, but Kirk had wormed his way into McCoy's life. Though McCoy had let him. He ran his palms over the fine weave of his pants, not sweating but anxious, jumpy feeling just the same.
McCoy could tell himself whatever he wanted. Kirk knew he'd been waiting, which was... interesting. Even if he wasn't quite sure what it meant, that McCoy wasn't making him wait, wasn't purposefully busy elsewhere.
Everything was, suddenly, so much more interesting than it had been. Even before everything had changed. A man could, it seemed, miss his balls and still take some pleasure in life. Which reminded him he was due for a treatment.
"Leo," he said by way of greeting, flopping into his place on the sofa even if he would need to head to the replicator soon, respecting McCoy's own wait.
The kid looked good - the away mission had given him something back, some confidence that he'd been missing.
That was a goddamn good thing to see. Even though it probably boded trouble - McCoy figured the kid would test his boundaries sooner rather than later. It'd be a shame to spoil all his pretty work, too.
But the nickname caught him and made him laugh, a genuine chuckle that he hadn't expected.
"You seriously going down that route with the name?"
Now that Kirk was here, was sitting just over there, within reach if McCoy say up, stretched out his hands, he could relax. McCoy eased deeper into his seat, stretched his legs out.
Kirk welcomed the laugh with a sly smile of his own. "Leonard is so formal," he complained. "And I didn't think you'd appreciate 'Scruffy.'"
McCoy wasn't angry--that was easy enough to see, though the man's moods were damn mercurial. And "relaxed" didn't always mean "happy." But Kirk was feeling good. He shrugged.
"You wanna make a case for 'doctor,' I'll listen."
Comments 94
M'Benga could clear the assholes and process the fucking redshirts who didn't make it back breathing. That was the whole fucking point of having another goddamn doctor there, after all.
So he sat in his customary chair - and it was even more his chair now that there was someone else who shared this space, who had a spot of his own over there on the couch. Goddammit, but Kirk had wormed his way into McCoy's life. Though McCoy had let him. He ran his palms over the fine weave of his pants, not sweating but anxious, jumpy feeling just the same.
Information. He just wanted information.
It was what he told himself, anyway.
Reply
Everything was, suddenly, so much more interesting than it had been. Even before everything had changed. A man could, it seemed, miss his balls and still take some pleasure in life. Which reminded him he was due for a treatment.
"Leo," he said by way of greeting, flopping into his place on the sofa even if he would need to head to the replicator soon, respecting McCoy's own wait.
Reply
That was a goddamn good thing to see. Even though it probably boded trouble - McCoy figured the kid would test his boundaries sooner rather than later. It'd be a shame to spoil all his pretty work, too.
But the nickname caught him and made him laugh, a genuine chuckle that he hadn't expected.
"You seriously going down that route with the name?"
Now that Kirk was here, was sitting just over there, within reach if McCoy say up, stretched out his hands, he could relax. McCoy eased deeper into his seat, stretched his legs out.
Reply
McCoy wasn't angry--that was easy enough to see, though the man's moods were damn mercurial. And "relaxed" didn't always mean "happy." But Kirk was feeling good. He shrugged.
"You wanna make a case for 'doctor,' I'll listen."
Reply
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