[fanfic] star trek - This is a War, Not a Garden Party (sequel to the mailman AU); kirk/bones
Title: This is a War, Not a Garden Party (a one-shot + three outtakes)
Author: soloproject
Rating/Warnings: R for non-explicit sex, language
Wordcount: 6,400
Characters: McCoy/Kirk; minor pairings in the BG
Summary: A sequel to Postal Service, the one where Jim is a mailman and Bones is a vet and his life is totally not like Gone with the Wind.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who wanted a sequel...you got it. You should probably read the first one for full entertainment value. If you missed the art, it's here.. This one has less animals but more meddling neighbors but I still hope you enjoy it. It hadn't occurred to me to expand this universe but as it turns out, there's more when it came from. And to drive home the fact that I am a hopeless nerd, the theme song of this sequel is none other than "Clark Gable" by The Postal Service. The title is from the movie Gone with the Wind and other titles from the film that I considered for this story were "A cat's a better mother than you" and "Don't bother me anymore, and don't call me sugar" which are so Bones-ppropriate to me.
Besides visits from Joanna, a medium-rare steak with a side of potatoes and a glass of ten-year old brandy, and possibly winning the lottery, sleeping in was high on the list of things Leonard H. McCoy liked.
It was infinitely nicer to wake up leisurely with his boyfriend's mouth wrapped around his cock and the bright rays of light intruding the room, telling him that today was going to be tolerable. Even nice.
McCoy came hard, throwing his arms round his eyes and breathed until his heart rate began to slow. There was movement around the general area of his waist and then a blond head popped out from under the covers and gazed up at him, mouth slick and looking very chipper.
"Pancakes?" Kirk asked.
They had, McCoy realized, fallen into a comfortable routine. Every morning, no matter how late they had turned in, even after very athletic sex that had McCoy groaning at work and Chekov and Sulu resolutely ignoring every complaint, Kirk would wake up and go for a run. Then he would come back, make coffee, push McCoy out of bed and into the shower and then leave for his early morning mail run. Sometimes, he would stop by the clinic and eat lunch with McCoy in his office and once or twice had even convinced him to make out on his desk.
A terrible idea, if the way Chekov walked in on them and then shot out of the office shrieking in Russian, had anything to say about it. There was a full waiting room that day, too and that put a hold on some of McCoy's sexual fantasies, for sure.
On Sundays, however, it would be movies the night before and then bed or couch, depending. Then waking up in the morning, sometimes with orgasms involved before heading to the kitchen for pancakes as a prelude to a comfortable day. The first few Sundays had gone off without a hitch, with McCoy turning on the news or checking his email or falling back into bed and Kirk doing whatever it was he did.
Then, McCoy happened to look out the window and see precisely what Kirk did on Sundays.
"What the hell are you doing!?" McCoy shouted at him, standing on the porch in his pajamas. Kirk was wearing old basketball shorts that rode low on his hips, bare chest glistening in the sun, making a slow turn with the lawn mower that had every single muscle that could be seen above the waist flexing with the effort.
"Mowing your lawn, what does it look like?" Kirk smirked at him, pausing to run his hands through his sweat soaked hair.
McCoy frowned. There something was wrong with this picture. "You don't need to do that," he told Kirk. "Jean-Luc does that...where the heck is that kid anyway?"
"Hey, Dr. McCoy," Jean-Luc said, sitting on the front steps of his front porch with Worf. He looked somewhat chastened and McCoy realized exactly what was wrong with the picture.
Mrs. Picard was sitting on her front lawn on a folding chair, with a big hat and a pair of sunglasses and a pitcher of lemonade on a folding table. She was wearing those mommy shorts that buttoned over her waist and a-- good Lord, he did not need to see that-- a bikini top.
McCoy took a step back, as if he'd been hit by the heat wave with a physical slap. But as he turned to scan his street, he realized that the row of houses along his street had people camped out on the front lawn or on their porch, sunbathing or sitting around, watching them. His neighbors, sitting around casually on their lawns in clothing that, if gathered and combined, would not fill a good-sized cardboard box.
They were watching Kirk like he was some kind of suburban pornography, doing menial tasks with absolutely no economy of movement and then some, bending over way too much just to shut off the lawn mower and cheerfully taking the glass of lemonade that Mrs. Picard brought over, with a "hey, thanks, Mrs. Picard," and shooting way too amused looks in McCoy's direction.
McCoy felt his head reel as he tried to figure out when and how Kirk had managed to become so comfortable here, so much so that people had actually started to expect that he'd be at McCoy's, mowing the lawn or fixing or washing the car in slow motion like he was in a pop music video. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rewound his thoughts back, way back, and tried to make a mental list of all the things that had happened over in the two months they'd been together that he may have overlooked or dismissed.
The garbage disposal that needed fixing that had magically started working again. The leak in the garage roof that had reached Chinese water torture levels when it dripped onto his car during the brief summer storm. The fridge that was never empty. The garbage that was always fanatically organized into recyclables. The clean garage. The clean attic. The clean basement. The clean kitchen. Jim's drawer in the dresser, his half of McCoy's closet. Jim's shaving cream, toothbrush, ridiculously fruity shampoo. The bike he used during short or light shifts when he didn't need the mail truck, currently leaning against the wall in the foyer.
And then it dawned on McCoy.
"Jim," McCoy said and beckoned Kirk over. Kirk came, grinning at the sight of him, obviously energized.
"Jim, don't you have a place of your own?" McCoy asked and Kirk's face fell.
As far as bumps in the relationship went, McCoy didn't even think that was the big one. He'd never been particularly good at relationships and was generally pleased that this one was comfortable, almost effortless-- Kirk just got him. Everything had been so in the moment that two months had blown by where he'd just been...happy.
So, when Kirk had said, very simply, "Yes, Bones, as a matter of fact, I do," and pushed past him into the house, McCoy had thought nothing of it. But then he somehow missed it when Kirk left and didn't come back that night and the night after that and after that and McCoy was trying to force a giant pill down a cat's throat when he realized what was going on.
"Oh shit," he said and yelped when the cat scratched. "Goddammit, I'm veterinarian, not Scarlett O'Hara!"
McCoy tried to catch Kirk when he delivered the mail but then he remembered that Kirk was covering for someone's afternoon shift until the end of the month and would only come by when McCoy was already at work.
He tried to call Kirk at work but was always conveniently put on hold, something he hated and couldn't help hanging up on. The mail still came but it seemed cold and somewhat lonely, stuffed into his box or piled on his step.
The kicker was that McCoy realized that he had completely neglected to get Kirk's number or email or something and tried to Google Kirk on his laptop before he pushed it away and writhed in embarrassment for ten minutes because someone should never, ever have to Google their own boyfriend. It was right up there with cutting up your curtains and sewing a dress.
McCoy knew he'd been the shitty one, wooing Kirk by creepily ogling him while he got his mail delivered and then jumping him after getting him to deliver a box of lube and condom he was too cowardly to get personally at the drugstore. If he believed in God, McCoy promised himself, grimly, he would spend a lot of time making it up to Kirk, so long as someone cared to bestow on him some divine intervention.
Leonard, he could hear in his grandmother's Southern accent, you're forgetting how you were raised, son. A gentlemen knows how to treat a lady right.
Sorry, grandma, McCoy thought, but if anyone was the lady in this here current relationship, it was me.
Where to start, McCoy thought, was going to be a problem. There were precious few people he could speak to about personal things, fewer still who were willing to counsel him about his boy troubles. God, he was a fourteen year old girl! And at almost forty, McCoy thought with a wince, that was embarrassing.
Chekov was sympathetic at first but after McCoy trapped him in their stockroom and bombarded him with questions, had started to avoid him with a suspicious look on his face.
"Why are you asking me this!?" Chekov exclaimed, trying to wedge his way around McCoy while the vet blocked his path in the hallway like a ridiculous game of freeze tag.
"You're the only one with experience!" McCoy argued, following Chekov down the hall when the assistant had managed to squeeze past.
"Hikaru and I live together," Chekov said, looking over his shoulder before ducking into an examination room. "He asked, I said yes, end of story!"
Sulu wasn't much help, either. "You know, it was more fun when you were going through your gay crisis and was actually trying to avoid having to ask for advice," he told McCoy when he brought him his coffee.
McCoy grunted. Sulu took pity on him and offered the last Boston creme.
"Not that this isn't deeply entertaining because I've never heard of someone so into another person and completely failing to get his number or his email after two months of fucking, I mean--" He laughed when McCoy started shouting for him to get out of his office, even though it was muffled by a donut.
"We should form a committee! Present a united front!" Janice Rand said. All around her, women murmured their assent and McCoy wondered how in the world he had ended up at a ladies' lunch.
"The food is delicious and you look like you need some good advice and distracting," Janice had said, the day before, when she had cornered him at the grocery. McCoy had been staring at the shelf of peanut butter in a daze, trying to remember if Kirk liked crunchy or creamy and he had felt like a zombie when he'd nodded his head, not really registering what he had agreed to.
"We'll fix this," Tonia Barrows said, pouring him a cup of tea. "We'll help you, Dr. McCoy. Besides, if you and Jim are fighting, I have to say, it's not only you. He seems really out of sorts. Not on the surface but if you look carefully, he seems really worn out. It's really romantic."
McCoy's head snapped up. "What?" He tried not to sound mortified while the other ladies giggled and nodded in agreement.
"Today's agenda was really about whether or not we were going to make your life hell," Mrs. Crusher said and McCoy could believe her, by virtue of her name alone. "But then Janice here told us how she found you in the grocery, looking like an opera heroine having the vapors and it comes down to neighbors help neighbors."
Janice beamed at him. "And it's more fun to try and get you back together again! Like a Choose Your Own Adventure romance novel."
McCoy made up his mind to cancel his library card and vowed never again to show his face there, for as long as Janice Rand was the head librarian.
"Why don't we look him up in the phone book?" Mrs. Janeway finally announced, putting down her teacup with a decisive clink. McCoy looked up at her in surprise. He hadn't thought of it but then again, it had been a while since he'd picked up an actual phone book.
"Or, ladies, let us activate the phone tree," Mrs. Janeway announced and pulled out a giant hardbound notebook. "Don't you worry, Leonard, we are all on your side. And if Jim Kirk wants to mess with one of our ladies, then he'll have to go through all of us."
"Wait!" McCoy protested, putting down his own teacup. "I'm not a lady!"
Christine Chapel reached over and, taking advantage of his obvious light-headedness took both his hands in hers and rubbed them. "Of course, you're not." McCoy nodded and picked up his tea again.
"Not literally, anyway," she offered and then rubbed his back when he started to choke.
Usually, McCoy would gratefully refrain from having to talk to his daughter at all but he was bordering on desperate. Weren't teenaged girls the authority on (theoretical) boy problems? McCoy hadn't wanted to steal Sulu's copy of Cosmopolitan (Are things between you too good to be true?) and he'd been seriously tempted to grab the Seventeen that his receptionist had left in the waiting room (Is your boyfriend saying one thing and meaning another?) so he did the next best thing: he called Joanna.
"Hi, daddy," she greeted him, sounding a little sad.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" McCoy said, taken a little aback by her tone and completely forgetting why he had called her in the first place.
"Mom decided to be Born Again," Joanna said. "She wants to send me to a Youth Mission Camp."
"Oh," McCoy wasn't sure how to reply.
"I don't want to go, daddy. There are no boys. And they don't allow make-up or open shoes or skirts that aren't two inches below the knee."
"You could come here if you want? A couple of weeks earlier then you normally do?" McCoy offered, conveniently leaving out the part that he didn't allow boys or make-up and could live without miniskirts too. But he often never knew how much he missed Joanna until he heard her voice and genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. Just the sound of her made McCoy feel tons better, like things would always work out in the end.
"Really?" Joanna said, sounding hopeful but then she lowered her voice. "But dad, aren't you living in sin?"
McCoy scowled. "Did your mother tell you that? Put her on the phone, right now." If he was going to learn to fight for someone, now would be a good time to start.
Spock was McCoy's absolute last resort.
"Why are you talking to me?" Spock asked, rather flatly. He was standing in his yard, wearing crisp Bermuda shorts and a starched white cotton button down, his head covered in a khaki fishing hat that looked like it had never seen a lake in its life. He was wearing a pair of bright orange Crocs and watering his bushes.
McCoy scowled at him over his fence.
"Why can't you just buy a set of sprinklers like regular people do?" He grouched at Spock, who just looked at him placidly.
"I find this seemingly menial task soothing," Spock said.
"Honey, you missed a spot," a silky voice called and McCoy craned his neck to find Uhura stretched out on a deck chair by Spock's pool, wearing pieces of Kleenex disguised as a bathing suit. She was magnificent, gleaming in the sun. The Squire of Gothos was sprawled on another chair and purring like a motorcycle.
"I have covered this entire area without consequence," Spock called back to her, even though his voice sounded exactly the same.
"What does the neighbor want, honey?" Uhura called back again. She pushed down her sunglasses and glared at McCoy.
"He is merely inquiring the whereabouts of Jim. It seems they are having a 'lover's quarrel.'" Spock told her, even though McCoy was sure they knew everything and were just fucking with him.
"I see," Uhura pushed her sunglasses back on and lay back down on her deck chair. Spock turned his body a few degrees to the left and watered a patch of grass. McCoy watched the whole thing in silence before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
"Hey, listen, I know you know where he is." McCoy asked, running a hand through his hair. He supposed he looked a little crazy but it was the weekend-- Sunday, in fact-- and he supposed he looked as unkempt as his front lawn currently looked. "And this is really between Jim and me so if you please just tell me wh--"
Spock held up a hand to shut him up.
"You hurt his feelings," Spock said and if someone with the emotional range of a rock could tell him so plainly that he had gone and fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him, then McCoy was clearly the biggest asshole on the planet.
"I know," McCoy said, deflating against the fence that separated their two backyards.
"I believe I have said that I would not interfere but implied if you hurt him, I would retaliate in a very unsatisfactory manner."
"I know!" McCoy groaned.
"I am a scientist, I know how to dispose of a body properly," Spock went on, although he stopped looking like he was paying any attention to McCoy. "And although the science is very problematic, there is a show on television that is very inventive about the disposal of bodies. I believe it's called 'Bones'," Spock said, giving McCoy a sharp sideways glance.
"Nice to know," McCoy said, wryly. "Look, I will make it up to you and Uhura if you would just tell me where he is," he said, even though he winced at the thought, thinking of fake bacon and condoms. "Anything you need, vet services, coffee--"
"He is currently staying--," Spock interrupted, turning off the water and then lifting a hand to point across the yard. "--in our guesthouse."
McCoy practically vaulted over the fence. "Thanks, Spock, you know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't so--," he said, clapping Spock on the shoulders for a second.
Spock gave him what McCoy guessed was probably a withering look. "Frankly, Doctor," he said. "I don't give a damn."
When Leonard was fourteen and still living with his parents in Georgia in a town where there wasn't much to do and the only kids were the ones he'd known forever, it had been the biggest thrill of his life to get to kiss Charlene Adams at the top of the Ferris wheel when the fair came to town. Her braces were cold against his lips and he was too shy to stick his tongue in her mouth but she was a sweet girl and didn't mock him when it was over.
He'd promptly ignored her after that.
When Leonard was in high school, he'd taken Lizzie Jones to the dance. She was the prettiest girl at school and everyone had looked at him with envy all the way up to the dance. When it was over, he'd hardly spoken to her until the graduation ceremony and after that, he'd shot out of town so fast he hadn't given her or anyone back home another thought.
It was like that for McCoy, all throughout college and then veterinary school, just several short-lived flings and one-night stands. He hadn't been interested in anything more long term. Work was soothing and consistent and predictable.
And then, there was Jocelyn, who was the first woman who he'd never had to call back because she had called him first and insinuated herself into his life before he'd known it. Who had let him and reminded him of all the important dates and planned their wedding and ultimately, planned their divorce. The problem was that when it came to relationships, McCoy wasn't too good at the paying attention part. He'd tried, liked the build-up and the intense conversations and the sex but as soon as it hit a lull, it had simply fallen away from his mind, until it sparked to life again, like two stones being hit together to restart the fire.
McCoy could recall whole dinners where he and Jocelyn didn't so much as speak, followed by good, comfortable sex where they knew exactly how to please the other that ended with rolling over to their side of the bed and falling asleep. And then Jocelyn told him she was pregnant, which he had never anticipated, having not thought of children before and suddenly, he was back in the game. He'd fallen in love the moment the doctor put Joanna in his arms. It was okay for years after that because he was fascinated by this little baby creature who looked so much like him and Jocelyn had liked him as a father.
But as soon as Joanna was old enough for school, it was back to the same old things until he came home one day and Jocelyn told him that it was over.
Thinking about it made his chest ache but it played like a movie in his mind as he jogged around the pool towards the guesthouse. What hurt more was the consequence of not noticing, how dangerous it had all been then and now.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Uhura said, coolly, as he walked by her deck chair.
"Me too," McCoy replied, pausing by her.
"You get this one free pass, Dr. McCoy," Uhura said, shifting on her chair. "But it might not be so easy the next time."
McCoy had often wondered what had inspired such loyalty in Kirk but he'd been blind because without even knowing he'd felt it and given it too. But without even asking, Kirk had picked him back, just like he'd picked Uhura and Spock and no one else but more than that, he'd thrown everything as a bonus and McCoy hadn't seen it, until it was very nearly too late. He nodded at Uhura and to their guesthouse to knock on the door. He slid it open when no one replied.
Kirk was lying on the bed, which was really a pull-out couch, sullenly playing Halo 3. He gave McCoy a cursory glance when he entered but paused the game. He looked terrible, kind of tired and mussed but not the adorable kind, just the irritated, shower-forgetting kind.
"Hi," McCoy managed, his chest feeling empty. He went to sit next to Jim who moved over.
"Hey," Kirk said.
"So, I was stupid," McCoy offered.
Kirk just looked at him, pissed. "Ya think?"
"I know you were kinda trying to make it easy on me, maybe, letting me skip working out all the kinks in...you and me, whatever we have," McCoy said.
"Whatever we have," Kirk said, his mouth flattening into a line.
"But the things is, other than Jocelyn, I've never had to work so hard at a relationship before and even then, it hadn't worked out. I am really good at being competent, for me, but until you, there hasn't been-- well, this is hard to say but--"
"You mean, all the spying and watching and ordering stuff for me to deliver was some kind of personal kink and now the magic is gone or whatthefuckever?" Kirk said, grimly.
"No! Wait," McCoy said, trying to process those words. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No, you listen to me," Kirk said, turning to face McCoy fully. "I can't help being a nice, charming, flirts with everybody kind of guy. It helps with dealing with people. But I liked you the instant I met you-- really, hopelessly, disgustingly liked you-- and I didn't know how to go about it so I...I just did my thing, you know? To see if you would like me too, just like everyone sort of likes me and then you tried so hard, I started getting confused towards the end. You would not believe how relieved I was when you kissed me that first time because I have never wanted anyone so badly in my life, even when they were being unintentionally creepy!" Kirk said, his voice starting to rise.
"I wasn't trying to be creepy!" McCoy said, shocked and Kirk sort of made strangled noises of frustration. "But I'm really sorry about that--"
"I don't know if you think your clock is ticking," Kirk took a menacing step towards McCoy and jabbed him in the chest. "And I happened to be some nice young tail who was willing put up with your bullshit but in case you hadn't noticed, I was wooing you!"
"Wooing?" McCoy said, biting his lip.
"Wooing! To seal the deal!" Kirk shouted, waving his hands around and turning kind of pink in the face. "What, did you want me to give you my letter jacket and ask you to go steady?!"
"I'm sorry!" McCoy said, defensively. "I'm really sorry and I don't want to fight, Jim, I...I wanted to apologize. For seriously overlooking stuff and kind of assuming it was always going to be smooth-sailing. For you, already trying to take care of me and me not noticing. You'd have to kick my ass sometimes, if this is going to work. Seriously, you're allowed."
"Oh, I will," Kirk said, his eyes getting all dark and glittery.
And now for the hard part. "Would you move in with me? I mean, I want you to....not just because the thought of living with Spock and Uhura is just...just no," McCoy said, emphatically. "Besides, I think most of your stuff's there anyway and it's not so much moving in with me as it is...coming back home?"
Kirk crossed his arms and frowned at him, expectantly.
"And," McCoy threw his arms into the air in defeat. "I'm in love with you, alright?"
The kiss was hot and more than a little dirty and already filling the hollow space that had been sitting in McCoy's chest for a week. It must have been agony for Kirk too, given the way he was practically humping McCoy's leg.
"God, I missed you," Kirk said, biting McCoy's shoulder and down his neck. "You are such a jackass."
"Hey," McCoy said, trying for venom and failing. He kissed Kirk fervently, sucking his tongue like it was a maximum-strength painkiller. "Hey, let's bring this home, okay?"
Kirk nodded and stood up like it hurt, although it probably did. He tugged at McCoy's arm and pulled him to his feet, meeting him for another kiss, chaste, this time and so sweet McCoy vowed that he was never going to fuck this one up again because a.) He really was too old for stupid relationship games; b.) He was kind of disgustingly in love and c.) He was a jackass and Kirk still took him back, hallelujah, hallelujah, amen.
"You still haven't explained why you were living in Spock's guesthouse," McCoy said, digging his fingers into Kirk's hair as he pulled him into a hug, holding him tight for a second just to breathe into his neck.
"Tell you later. I can come back for all this stuff, Bones, let's crawl into bed and never leave until then," Kirk said, muffled into McCoy's shoulder and then pulled away, reaching to slide the door open and revealing Uhura and Spock, standing side by side, like a weird honor guard. Uhura's hands were on her waist, hip cocked, looking like a Sports Illustrated model but one who could kill you with their mind.
"Are you leaving?" She demanded, looking back and forth between Kirk and McCoy. Kirk nodded and Uhura softened.
"Good. Because I was going to kick you out tomorrow, anyway. My parents are coming to visit." She turned on and strode towards the house.
McCoy looked at his neighbor. "I can't believe you got to marry someone that hot," he told Spock.
Kirk slapped a hand on his face and groaned.
Spock's face crumpled just the slightest, a hint of scorn in his eyes. "My wife is the correct temperature for a normal, healthy human being." He retorted and then went after Uhura.
"So, anyway, my roommate-- his name was Gary-- was all 'Hey, Jim, I've enlisted' and then forgets to tell me that the lease to our two bedroom was actually up at the end of the month," Kirk said later, while McCoy was making a spectacular constellation of hickeys on his chest. McCoy looked up at him, considering, and then bent his head again.
"Was he your boyfriend or something?" McCoy asked, clamping his teeth over Jim's left nipple and tugging.
"Ow, cut it out! No, he wasn't my, oh god, do that," Kirk said, when McCoy soothed over it with his tongue. "And then one day I come home and there's a note on the door that says I have twenty-four hours to pack everything up and leave," Kirk said, arching into McCoy's mouth and reaching between them to take McCoy's cock in his hand.
"Anyway, I was kind of bummed after that," Kirk kept talking, even as McCoy slid lower and took his erection into his mouth. "Because it was really near the office and my beat but then this route opened up and I guess, it worked out. Spock wouldn't let me live in a motel while I looked for another space."
"Mmmph," McCoy agreed, sucking Kirk down deep and watching him arch off the mattress.
"Yeah, he was all 'I do not believe it was prudent for you to be spending money when you know you are always welcome in my residence,'" Kirk said, starting to shake.
"I'll show you prudent," McCoy growled, flipping Kirk over.
After that, McCoy somewhat regretted that his previous relationships didn't progress as spectacularly after fights as this one did because make-up sex was incredible. He was under no illusions that Kirk had forgiven him right away, although the delicious whimpering noises he made when he came could have fooled him.
"Are you still mad at me?" McCoy asked, as he slid into Kirk.
"Not if you keep doing that," Kirk said, sounding languid and blissed out.
"Okay," McCoy said, putting his back into it. "Because Joanna is coming to visit next week."
Jocelyn seemed taken aback when he'd insisted she let Joanna visit him, instead of making her go to Jesus camp. They had never really argued before, even during the divorce. McCoy seemed to remember just acquiescing to everything because he didn't want it to be ugly for Joanna and that it had cost him missing out see his little girl grow up.
"What's gotten into you?" Jocelyn asked, sounding more surprised than angry.
"I don't want to get into that," McCoy had said because he couldn't give her an answer that wasn't completely debauched. But in the end, Jocelyn agreed to put Joanna on a plane and McCoy had convinced Kirk to come pick her up with him, "unless you want to be waiting at home like a housewife or something."
"Yeah," Kirk had said. "But what housewife would do this?" He asked and flipped McCoy onto his stomach and rimmed him until he was sobbing into the pillow.
Kirk seemed nervous when they stood at arrivals but he'd relaxed by the time Joanna emerged and walked right towards them. She threw herself at McCoy and squeezed him hard and something in McCoy's chest felt fit to burst. And then she turned to Kirk.
She'd grown a few inches since the last time he'd seen her and she was already trying to push the envelope of grown-uppedness with a glossy mouth and glittery eye-shadow. McCoy wisely kept his mouth shut, even though the sneakers with the wedge heel were a bit strange.
"How do you do?" She said to Kirk politely and stuck her hand out, all business-like.
"I'm fine, thank you," Kirk said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it instead. Joanna, who apparently had the secret soul of a Southern belle like her father, melted like butter.
Dinner went without a hitch.
"You're really cute, did you know that? I can see why my dad likes you," Joanna babbled happily, over her ravioli. "Oh my god, I have so many questions. I hope you don't think it's too weird but would you pretend to be my boyfriend sometime? It's not an obligation or whatever but it would totally make those head bitchleader twins T'Pring and T'Pol soooo jealous." She wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin and looked up at Kirk, who looked like he was about to have a fit.
"No, absolutely not," McCoy intervened, stabbing a potato and using it to point at her.
"Why not!?" Joanna protested, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.
"Because he's daddy's boyfriend, alright?" McCoy snapped, firmly putting the potato in his mouth and chewing it, end of story. He refused to look at Kirk for his reaction but a hand slid onto his thigh and squeezed it under the table.
Joanna rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Duh. That's why it's called pretend," she said, turning to Kirk. "They are so difficult when they get older."
Kirk burst out laughing and passed her the dessert menu.
"Man, she is a handful," Kirk said, panting into McCoy's mouth. "And so are you," he leered, as he stroked McCoy until he was hard.
"Please don't bring my teenaged daughter up in any conversation that happens when we're having sex," McCoy gritted out.
Kirk laughed with delight, "I have a thing for McCoys," he chuckled and McCoy tried to find something, anything that he could smother Kirk with.
"For god's sake, keep it down! She is down the hall!" McCoy said, a little panicked and set about finding ways to shut him up. Joanna meant the world to him and so did Kirk. Dinner had gone well, better than he had expected and he didn't want all of that to go to shit because the walls of his house were thin.
"I like her," Kirk said, after he had cleaned up and grudgingly put on a pair of boxers at McCoy's insistence.
"I don't see her as often as I would like," McCoy admitted, turning to hide his face in his pillow. Kirk pulled in tight around him, as if he understood.
"And now?"
"I want to see her more often," McCoy said, tucking Kirk's hand over his chest, wanting more, wanting everything.
"You seem really happy, dad," Joanna said, while they watched hot pockets turn in the microwave. She leaned against him and McCoy put his arm around and kissed the top of her head.
"I am," McCoy said, simply, liking this near-grown up Joanna as much as he loved her at birth, at three years old, at seven, ten. "I hope you're happy too."
"Dad, I'm thirteen," Joanna said, as if that explained everything. But she turned her entire body and hugged him, tall enough that her face was in his chest, instead around his knees or his stomach.
"I wish I had done better by you, sweetheart," McCoy mumbled into her hair. Joanna replied by squeezing him tighter.
"Thanks for getting me out of Jesus Camp, dad," Joanna said, looking up at him with his blue eyes and clearly meaning I'm just happy that you're happy and I love you because you're my dad.
Kirk had already gone to work but insisted he'd be back early so they could drive out to dinner and a movie.
"It's a pretend date," Kirk teased Joanna and then grinned over her head at McCoy. "You can be the over-protective, hovering father who seduces me from her all Mrs. Robinson-like, you cougar you."
"Jesus Christ, watch your mouth!" McCoy said, clapping his hands over Joanna's face while she giggled and squirmed. "You are not allowed to date until you are thirty," McCoy said to Joanna who rolled her eyes at him.
"Don't worry, dad," Joanna said. "I just want the pictures for my Facebook."
Joanna, who hardly ever cried even as a baby, teared up at the gate and soaked through McCoy's shoulder as she hugged him and then Kirk.
"Dad, you better let me come over for Christmas," Joanna said, sticking her pinky out at him. "Pinky swear on it," she insisted. Kirk laughed as McCoy obliged her and then punched him in the arm afterward, aware of the fond look that was growing on Joanna's face.
"Add me on Facebook, JT," Joanna said, wriggling her eyebrows at him. "I need to fake all my status to corroborate the pictures."
"Sure thing, Jojo," Kirk said, reaching over to tweak her nose.
"And take care of my dad or I will ruin your internet reputation," Joanna said and then turned to leave for her gate.
"Man, she is something," Kirk said, sliding an arm around McCoy's waist. "I'd like to see her and Spock in the same room."
"Please never repeat that sentence again," McCoy scowled but it was hard because there was a lump in his throat. "But she is," he agreed, reaching over to take Kirk's hand. "Let's head home."
"Can we stop at McDonald's?" Kirk asked, squeezing McCoy's fingers.
"You'd think I had two kids, instead of the one," McCoy grumbled but he knew he would do it only because it was Kirk who was asking.
"You missed a spot," McCoy said, putting his feet up on the ledge of his porch rail. He wore only a pair of old boardshorts and was drinking an iced tea, a pair of aviators he hadn't worn in years now perched on his nose.
"This was more fun when I did this to get your attention," Kirk grumbled, pushing the lawn mower across the lawn.
"You insist on putting Jean-Luc out of business, you're going to have to see it through," McCoy pointed out. "That poor kid, didn't you know he was saving money so he could build his own android? You really should be ashamed."
"Yeah, well, now I'm just feeling objectified. Like a piece of meat!" Kirk stopped pushing the mower and jabbed a finger in McCoy's direction.
McCoy looked over his shades. "Oh please," he drawled. "You were this close to prostituting yourself for Mrs. Picard's lemonade. Besides," he said, making it sound loose and dirty and enjoying the dark look on Kirk's face. "I like meat."
Kirk raised one eyebrow and then both. McCoy grinned back.
"Leonard!" Janice called, pulling up in her tiny red convertible. "Ladies' lunch, Tuesday, my house?"
"I'll be there," McCoy yelled back, holding his hand up in a wave.
"Wait a second, is that what this is about?" Kirk yelped and turned off the mower. "When did you start getting invited to ladies' lunch?"
McCoy leaned back in his seat. "Have you tasted Tonia's tuna casserole? Lesser men have killed for it. We sit around, make phone trees. Gossip about our men," he said, smugly. "I hear there's a fund-raising calendar in the works, the naked kind," he burst out laughing at the conflicted look on Kirk's face.
"I can't believe they made you an honorary lady!" Kirk marched over to the porch. "If you get to have go to the ladies' lunch, I want a...a Mafia-themed poker night! With whiskey! And cigars!" He paused to think about it. "Wii Tennis and Mario Kart!" He added, crossing his arms.
McCoy stood and leaned over the porch rail. "You can have whatever you want," he said and kissed him.
Three Outtakes!
1. [coup d'etat]
"Hikaru," Chekov said, sticking his head out of Examination Room Two. "Hikaru, is the coast clear?"
"Coast is clear," Sulu said, coming around the corner. "No more appointments so I made him go home early. You okay with that?"
"I thought he would be less high-strung when he finally started getting laid regularly," Chekov said, finally coming out.
"Right?" Sulu said, digging around for his iPhone. "Okay, I should probably feel bad that we're helping Jim avoid Dr. McCoy by telling him when he's headed home but you know," he said, pocketing the phone. "I kind of like being able to get off early too." He quirked an eyebrow and then leaned in, sliding his mouth over Chekov's.
"I knew there was some kind of coup going on," Chekov said, wrapping his arms around Sulu's neck.
"You wanna go home and get all dirty Russian on me?" Sulu said, grinning at him.
2. [movie night]
"Are you crying?" Kirk asked in disbelief, sitting wedged between father and daughter on the couch.
"Shut up, you don't understand," Joanna said, snuffling into a handkerchief as Scarlett tumbled down the stairs. "Gone with the Wind is one of the most beautiful movies ever." She hugged a pillow to her chest and reached for a Kleenex to blow her nose.
"I was asking your dad," Kirk said, mildly, reaching for the popcorn.
3. [Spock makes a joke]
Spock and Jim were playing chess in the guesthouse.
"You do realize that it is no longer an option for you to be staying here, when you are already in an established relationship with the doctor next door," Spock said, taking another of Jim's pawns with his bishop.
"I don't think he realizes I've sort of moved in," Jim said. "Is that bad?"
"Logically, he is happy to have you there," Spock said, staring at the board. "Logically, my guesthouse will be empty and that makes Nyota happy. When Nyota is happy, she and I engage in--."
"--okay, that ends there. I get it," Jim held up a hand. "But I should tell him shouldn't I? Because with Bones, it's never really planned. He just went yeah, toss your stuff in with my laundry, it's not a big deal. And help yourself to the fridge. And stay over, every night. He never asks where I live. I'm still waiting for him to get my celphone number."
"Hm," Spock said, making it sound like I really don't care. "I fail to understand why you will not simply give him your number. Is that not the proper decorum when engaging a close, personal relationship?"
"I'm being a girl about this, aren't I? I'm waiting for him to ask for it so he call me back except he hasn't because I'm practically living with him anyway," Jim said. "Oh, and check."
Spock bristled the slightest bit. Only someone like Jim who has known him long enough can tell. Spock looked up at him after a long moment of staring at the chess board. "Jim, as far as I can tell you have the upper hand in this relationship. I think that you should merely step forward and profess how you feel. In chess terms," Spock raised a bishop. "You act as if you are a bishop, able only to move in one particular direction when in fact--" He reached across and knocked over Jim's queen.
"--you are a queen and can move wherever you want," Spock said, looking up, his eyes glinting with just the tiniest hint of amusement while Jim gaped at him.
"Checkmate."
.
Author: soloproject
Rating/Warnings: R for non-explicit sex, language
Wordcount: 6,400
Characters: McCoy/Kirk; minor pairings in the BG
Summary: A sequel to Postal Service, the one where Jim is a mailman and Bones is a vet and his life is totally not like Gone with the Wind.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who wanted a sequel...you got it. You should probably read the first one for full entertainment value. If you missed the art, it's here.. This one has less animals but more meddling neighbors but I still hope you enjoy it. It hadn't occurred to me to expand this universe but as it turns out, there's more when it came from. And to drive home the fact that I am a hopeless nerd, the theme song of this sequel is none other than "Clark Gable" by The Postal Service. The title is from the movie Gone with the Wind and other titles from the film that I considered for this story were "A cat's a better mother than you" and "Don't bother me anymore, and don't call me sugar" which are so Bones-ppropriate to me.
Besides visits from Joanna, a medium-rare steak with a side of potatoes and a glass of ten-year old brandy, and possibly winning the lottery, sleeping in was high on the list of things Leonard H. McCoy liked.
It was infinitely nicer to wake up leisurely with his boyfriend's mouth wrapped around his cock and the bright rays of light intruding the room, telling him that today was going to be tolerable. Even nice.
McCoy came hard, throwing his arms round his eyes and breathed until his heart rate began to slow. There was movement around the general area of his waist and then a blond head popped out from under the covers and gazed up at him, mouth slick and looking very chipper.
"Pancakes?" Kirk asked.
They had, McCoy realized, fallen into a comfortable routine. Every morning, no matter how late they had turned in, even after very athletic sex that had McCoy groaning at work and Chekov and Sulu resolutely ignoring every complaint, Kirk would wake up and go for a run. Then he would come back, make coffee, push McCoy out of bed and into the shower and then leave for his early morning mail run. Sometimes, he would stop by the clinic and eat lunch with McCoy in his office and once or twice had even convinced him to make out on his desk.
A terrible idea, if the way Chekov walked in on them and then shot out of the office shrieking in Russian, had anything to say about it. There was a full waiting room that day, too and that put a hold on some of McCoy's sexual fantasies, for sure.
On Sundays, however, it would be movies the night before and then bed or couch, depending. Then waking up in the morning, sometimes with orgasms involved before heading to the kitchen for pancakes as a prelude to a comfortable day. The first few Sundays had gone off without a hitch, with McCoy turning on the news or checking his email or falling back into bed and Kirk doing whatever it was he did.
Then, McCoy happened to look out the window and see precisely what Kirk did on Sundays.
"What the hell are you doing!?" McCoy shouted at him, standing on the porch in his pajamas. Kirk was wearing old basketball shorts that rode low on his hips, bare chest glistening in the sun, making a slow turn with the lawn mower that had every single muscle that could be seen above the waist flexing with the effort.
"Mowing your lawn, what does it look like?" Kirk smirked at him, pausing to run his hands through his sweat soaked hair.
McCoy frowned. There something was wrong with this picture. "You don't need to do that," he told Kirk. "Jean-Luc does that...where the heck is that kid anyway?"
"Hey, Dr. McCoy," Jean-Luc said, sitting on the front steps of his front porch with Worf. He looked somewhat chastened and McCoy realized exactly what was wrong with the picture.
Mrs. Picard was sitting on her front lawn on a folding chair, with a big hat and a pair of sunglasses and a pitcher of lemonade on a folding table. She was wearing those mommy shorts that buttoned over her waist and a-- good Lord, he did not need to see that-- a bikini top.
McCoy took a step back, as if he'd been hit by the heat wave with a physical slap. But as he turned to scan his street, he realized that the row of houses along his street had people camped out on the front lawn or on their porch, sunbathing or sitting around, watching them. His neighbors, sitting around casually on their lawns in clothing that, if gathered and combined, would not fill a good-sized cardboard box.
They were watching Kirk like he was some kind of suburban pornography, doing menial tasks with absolutely no economy of movement and then some, bending over way too much just to shut off the lawn mower and cheerfully taking the glass of lemonade that Mrs. Picard brought over, with a "hey, thanks, Mrs. Picard," and shooting way too amused looks in McCoy's direction.
McCoy felt his head reel as he tried to figure out when and how Kirk had managed to become so comfortable here, so much so that people had actually started to expect that he'd be at McCoy's, mowing the lawn or fixing or washing the car in slow motion like he was in a pop music video. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rewound his thoughts back, way back, and tried to make a mental list of all the things that had happened over in the two months they'd been together that he may have overlooked or dismissed.
The garbage disposal that needed fixing that had magically started working again. The leak in the garage roof that had reached Chinese water torture levels when it dripped onto his car during the brief summer storm. The fridge that was never empty. The garbage that was always fanatically organized into recyclables. The clean garage. The clean attic. The clean basement. The clean kitchen. Jim's drawer in the dresser, his half of McCoy's closet. Jim's shaving cream, toothbrush, ridiculously fruity shampoo. The bike he used during short or light shifts when he didn't need the mail truck, currently leaning against the wall in the foyer.
And then it dawned on McCoy.
"Jim," McCoy said and beckoned Kirk over. Kirk came, grinning at the sight of him, obviously energized.
"Jim, don't you have a place of your own?" McCoy asked and Kirk's face fell.
As far as bumps in the relationship went, McCoy didn't even think that was the big one. He'd never been particularly good at relationships and was generally pleased that this one was comfortable, almost effortless-- Kirk just got him. Everything had been so in the moment that two months had blown by where he'd just been...happy.
So, when Kirk had said, very simply, "Yes, Bones, as a matter of fact, I do," and pushed past him into the house, McCoy had thought nothing of it. But then he somehow missed it when Kirk left and didn't come back that night and the night after that and after that and McCoy was trying to force a giant pill down a cat's throat when he realized what was going on.
"Oh shit," he said and yelped when the cat scratched. "Goddammit, I'm veterinarian, not Scarlett O'Hara!"
McCoy tried to catch Kirk when he delivered the mail but then he remembered that Kirk was covering for someone's afternoon shift until the end of the month and would only come by when McCoy was already at work.
He tried to call Kirk at work but was always conveniently put on hold, something he hated and couldn't help hanging up on. The mail still came but it seemed cold and somewhat lonely, stuffed into his box or piled on his step.
The kicker was that McCoy realized that he had completely neglected to get Kirk's number or email or something and tried to Google Kirk on his laptop before he pushed it away and writhed in embarrassment for ten minutes because someone should never, ever have to Google their own boyfriend. It was right up there with cutting up your curtains and sewing a dress.
McCoy knew he'd been the shitty one, wooing Kirk by creepily ogling him while he got his mail delivered and then jumping him after getting him to deliver a box of lube and condom he was too cowardly to get personally at the drugstore. If he believed in God, McCoy promised himself, grimly, he would spend a lot of time making it up to Kirk, so long as someone cared to bestow on him some divine intervention.
Leonard, he could hear in his grandmother's Southern accent, you're forgetting how you were raised, son. A gentlemen knows how to treat a lady right.
Sorry, grandma, McCoy thought, but if anyone was the lady in this here current relationship, it was me.
Where to start, McCoy thought, was going to be a problem. There were precious few people he could speak to about personal things, fewer still who were willing to counsel him about his boy troubles. God, he was a fourteen year old girl! And at almost forty, McCoy thought with a wince, that was embarrassing.
Chekov was sympathetic at first but after McCoy trapped him in their stockroom and bombarded him with questions, had started to avoid him with a suspicious look on his face.
"Why are you asking me this!?" Chekov exclaimed, trying to wedge his way around McCoy while the vet blocked his path in the hallway like a ridiculous game of freeze tag.
"You're the only one with experience!" McCoy argued, following Chekov down the hall when the assistant had managed to squeeze past.
"Hikaru and I live together," Chekov said, looking over his shoulder before ducking into an examination room. "He asked, I said yes, end of story!"
Sulu wasn't much help, either. "You know, it was more fun when you were going through your gay crisis and was actually trying to avoid having to ask for advice," he told McCoy when he brought him his coffee.
McCoy grunted. Sulu took pity on him and offered the last Boston creme.
"Not that this isn't deeply entertaining because I've never heard of someone so into another person and completely failing to get his number or his email after two months of fucking, I mean--" He laughed when McCoy started shouting for him to get out of his office, even though it was muffled by a donut.
"We should form a committee! Present a united front!" Janice Rand said. All around her, women murmured their assent and McCoy wondered how in the world he had ended up at a ladies' lunch.
"The food is delicious and you look like you need some good advice and distracting," Janice had said, the day before, when she had cornered him at the grocery. McCoy had been staring at the shelf of peanut butter in a daze, trying to remember if Kirk liked crunchy or creamy and he had felt like a zombie when he'd nodded his head, not really registering what he had agreed to.
"We'll fix this," Tonia Barrows said, pouring him a cup of tea. "We'll help you, Dr. McCoy. Besides, if you and Jim are fighting, I have to say, it's not only you. He seems really out of sorts. Not on the surface but if you look carefully, he seems really worn out. It's really romantic."
McCoy's head snapped up. "What?" He tried not to sound mortified while the other ladies giggled and nodded in agreement.
"Today's agenda was really about whether or not we were going to make your life hell," Mrs. Crusher said and McCoy could believe her, by virtue of her name alone. "But then Janice here told us how she found you in the grocery, looking like an opera heroine having the vapors and it comes down to neighbors help neighbors."
Janice beamed at him. "And it's more fun to try and get you back together again! Like a Choose Your Own Adventure romance novel."
McCoy made up his mind to cancel his library card and vowed never again to show his face there, for as long as Janice Rand was the head librarian.
"Why don't we look him up in the phone book?" Mrs. Janeway finally announced, putting down her teacup with a decisive clink. McCoy looked up at her in surprise. He hadn't thought of it but then again, it had been a while since he'd picked up an actual phone book.
"Or, ladies, let us activate the phone tree," Mrs. Janeway announced and pulled out a giant hardbound notebook. "Don't you worry, Leonard, we are all on your side. And if Jim Kirk wants to mess with one of our ladies, then he'll have to go through all of us."
"Wait!" McCoy protested, putting down his own teacup. "I'm not a lady!"
Christine Chapel reached over and, taking advantage of his obvious light-headedness took both his hands in hers and rubbed them. "Of course, you're not." McCoy nodded and picked up his tea again.
"Not literally, anyway," she offered and then rubbed his back when he started to choke.
Usually, McCoy would gratefully refrain from having to talk to his daughter at all but he was bordering on desperate. Weren't teenaged girls the authority on (theoretical) boy problems? McCoy hadn't wanted to steal Sulu's copy of Cosmopolitan (Are things between you too good to be true?) and he'd been seriously tempted to grab the Seventeen that his receptionist had left in the waiting room (Is your boyfriend saying one thing and meaning another?) so he did the next best thing: he called Joanna.
"Hi, daddy," she greeted him, sounding a little sad.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" McCoy said, taken a little aback by her tone and completely forgetting why he had called her in the first place.
"Mom decided to be Born Again," Joanna said. "She wants to send me to a Youth Mission Camp."
"Oh," McCoy wasn't sure how to reply.
"I don't want to go, daddy. There are no boys. And they don't allow make-up or open shoes or skirts that aren't two inches below the knee."
"You could come here if you want? A couple of weeks earlier then you normally do?" McCoy offered, conveniently leaving out the part that he didn't allow boys or make-up and could live without miniskirts too. But he often never knew how much he missed Joanna until he heard her voice and genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. Just the sound of her made McCoy feel tons better, like things would always work out in the end.
"Really?" Joanna said, sounding hopeful but then she lowered her voice. "But dad, aren't you living in sin?"
McCoy scowled. "Did your mother tell you that? Put her on the phone, right now." If he was going to learn to fight for someone, now would be a good time to start.
Spock was McCoy's absolute last resort.
"Why are you talking to me?" Spock asked, rather flatly. He was standing in his yard, wearing crisp Bermuda shorts and a starched white cotton button down, his head covered in a khaki fishing hat that looked like it had never seen a lake in its life. He was wearing a pair of bright orange Crocs and watering his bushes.
McCoy scowled at him over his fence.
"Why can't you just buy a set of sprinklers like regular people do?" He grouched at Spock, who just looked at him placidly.
"I find this seemingly menial task soothing," Spock said.
"Honey, you missed a spot," a silky voice called and McCoy craned his neck to find Uhura stretched out on a deck chair by Spock's pool, wearing pieces of Kleenex disguised as a bathing suit. She was magnificent, gleaming in the sun. The Squire of Gothos was sprawled on another chair and purring like a motorcycle.
"I have covered this entire area without consequence," Spock called back to her, even though his voice sounded exactly the same.
"What does the neighbor want, honey?" Uhura called back again. She pushed down her sunglasses and glared at McCoy.
"He is merely inquiring the whereabouts of Jim. It seems they are having a 'lover's quarrel.'" Spock told her, even though McCoy was sure they knew everything and were just fucking with him.
"I see," Uhura pushed her sunglasses back on and lay back down on her deck chair. Spock turned his body a few degrees to the left and watered a patch of grass. McCoy watched the whole thing in silence before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
"Hey, listen, I know you know where he is." McCoy asked, running a hand through his hair. He supposed he looked a little crazy but it was the weekend-- Sunday, in fact-- and he supposed he looked as unkempt as his front lawn currently looked. "And this is really between Jim and me so if you please just tell me wh--"
Spock held up a hand to shut him up.
"You hurt his feelings," Spock said and if someone with the emotional range of a rock could tell him so plainly that he had gone and fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him, then McCoy was clearly the biggest asshole on the planet.
"I know," McCoy said, deflating against the fence that separated their two backyards.
"I believe I have said that I would not interfere but implied if you hurt him, I would retaliate in a very unsatisfactory manner."
"I know!" McCoy groaned.
"I am a scientist, I know how to dispose of a body properly," Spock went on, although he stopped looking like he was paying any attention to McCoy. "And although the science is very problematic, there is a show on television that is very inventive about the disposal of bodies. I believe it's called 'Bones'," Spock said, giving McCoy a sharp sideways glance.
"Nice to know," McCoy said, wryly. "Look, I will make it up to you and Uhura if you would just tell me where he is," he said, even though he winced at the thought, thinking of fake bacon and condoms. "Anything you need, vet services, coffee--"
"He is currently staying--," Spock interrupted, turning off the water and then lifting a hand to point across the yard. "--in our guesthouse."
McCoy practically vaulted over the fence. "Thanks, Spock, you know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't so--," he said, clapping Spock on the shoulders for a second.
Spock gave him what McCoy guessed was probably a withering look. "Frankly, Doctor," he said. "I don't give a damn."
When Leonard was fourteen and still living with his parents in Georgia in a town where there wasn't much to do and the only kids were the ones he'd known forever, it had been the biggest thrill of his life to get to kiss Charlene Adams at the top of the Ferris wheel when the fair came to town. Her braces were cold against his lips and he was too shy to stick his tongue in her mouth but she was a sweet girl and didn't mock him when it was over.
He'd promptly ignored her after that.
When Leonard was in high school, he'd taken Lizzie Jones to the dance. She was the prettiest girl at school and everyone had looked at him with envy all the way up to the dance. When it was over, he'd hardly spoken to her until the graduation ceremony and after that, he'd shot out of town so fast he hadn't given her or anyone back home another thought.
It was like that for McCoy, all throughout college and then veterinary school, just several short-lived flings and one-night stands. He hadn't been interested in anything more long term. Work was soothing and consistent and predictable.
And then, there was Jocelyn, who was the first woman who he'd never had to call back because she had called him first and insinuated herself into his life before he'd known it. Who had let him and reminded him of all the important dates and planned their wedding and ultimately, planned their divorce. The problem was that when it came to relationships, McCoy wasn't too good at the paying attention part. He'd tried, liked the build-up and the intense conversations and the sex but as soon as it hit a lull, it had simply fallen away from his mind, until it sparked to life again, like two stones being hit together to restart the fire.
McCoy could recall whole dinners where he and Jocelyn didn't so much as speak, followed by good, comfortable sex where they knew exactly how to please the other that ended with rolling over to their side of the bed and falling asleep. And then Jocelyn told him she was pregnant, which he had never anticipated, having not thought of children before and suddenly, he was back in the game. He'd fallen in love the moment the doctor put Joanna in his arms. It was okay for years after that because he was fascinated by this little baby creature who looked so much like him and Jocelyn had liked him as a father.
But as soon as Joanna was old enough for school, it was back to the same old things until he came home one day and Jocelyn told him that it was over.
Thinking about it made his chest ache but it played like a movie in his mind as he jogged around the pool towards the guesthouse. What hurt more was the consequence of not noticing, how dangerous it had all been then and now.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Uhura said, coolly, as he walked by her deck chair.
"Me too," McCoy replied, pausing by her.
"You get this one free pass, Dr. McCoy," Uhura said, shifting on her chair. "But it might not be so easy the next time."
McCoy had often wondered what had inspired such loyalty in Kirk but he'd been blind because without even knowing he'd felt it and given it too. But without even asking, Kirk had picked him back, just like he'd picked Uhura and Spock and no one else but more than that, he'd thrown everything as a bonus and McCoy hadn't seen it, until it was very nearly too late. He nodded at Uhura and to their guesthouse to knock on the door. He slid it open when no one replied.
Kirk was lying on the bed, which was really a pull-out couch, sullenly playing Halo 3. He gave McCoy a cursory glance when he entered but paused the game. He looked terrible, kind of tired and mussed but not the adorable kind, just the irritated, shower-forgetting kind.
"Hi," McCoy managed, his chest feeling empty. He went to sit next to Jim who moved over.
"Hey," Kirk said.
"So, I was stupid," McCoy offered.
Kirk just looked at him, pissed. "Ya think?"
"I know you were kinda trying to make it easy on me, maybe, letting me skip working out all the kinks in...you and me, whatever we have," McCoy said.
"Whatever we have," Kirk said, his mouth flattening into a line.
"But the things is, other than Jocelyn, I've never had to work so hard at a relationship before and even then, it hadn't worked out. I am really good at being competent, for me, but until you, there hasn't been-- well, this is hard to say but--"
"You mean, all the spying and watching and ordering stuff for me to deliver was some kind of personal kink and now the magic is gone or whatthefuckever?" Kirk said, grimly.
"No! Wait," McCoy said, trying to process those words. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No, you listen to me," Kirk said, turning to face McCoy fully. "I can't help being a nice, charming, flirts with everybody kind of guy. It helps with dealing with people. But I liked you the instant I met you-- really, hopelessly, disgustingly liked you-- and I didn't know how to go about it so I...I just did my thing, you know? To see if you would like me too, just like everyone sort of likes me and then you tried so hard, I started getting confused towards the end. You would not believe how relieved I was when you kissed me that first time because I have never wanted anyone so badly in my life, even when they were being unintentionally creepy!" Kirk said, his voice starting to rise.
"I wasn't trying to be creepy!" McCoy said, shocked and Kirk sort of made strangled noises of frustration. "But I'm really sorry about that--"
"I don't know if you think your clock is ticking," Kirk took a menacing step towards McCoy and jabbed him in the chest. "And I happened to be some nice young tail who was willing put up with your bullshit but in case you hadn't noticed, I was wooing you!"
"Wooing?" McCoy said, biting his lip.
"Wooing! To seal the deal!" Kirk shouted, waving his hands around and turning kind of pink in the face. "What, did you want me to give you my letter jacket and ask you to go steady?!"
"I'm sorry!" McCoy said, defensively. "I'm really sorry and I don't want to fight, Jim, I...I wanted to apologize. For seriously overlooking stuff and kind of assuming it was always going to be smooth-sailing. For you, already trying to take care of me and me not noticing. You'd have to kick my ass sometimes, if this is going to work. Seriously, you're allowed."
"Oh, I will," Kirk said, his eyes getting all dark and glittery.
And now for the hard part. "Would you move in with me? I mean, I want you to....not just because the thought of living with Spock and Uhura is just...just no," McCoy said, emphatically. "Besides, I think most of your stuff's there anyway and it's not so much moving in with me as it is...coming back home?"
Kirk crossed his arms and frowned at him, expectantly.
"And," McCoy threw his arms into the air in defeat. "I'm in love with you, alright?"
The kiss was hot and more than a little dirty and already filling the hollow space that had been sitting in McCoy's chest for a week. It must have been agony for Kirk too, given the way he was practically humping McCoy's leg.
"God, I missed you," Kirk said, biting McCoy's shoulder and down his neck. "You are such a jackass."
"Hey," McCoy said, trying for venom and failing. He kissed Kirk fervently, sucking his tongue like it was a maximum-strength painkiller. "Hey, let's bring this home, okay?"
Kirk nodded and stood up like it hurt, although it probably did. He tugged at McCoy's arm and pulled him to his feet, meeting him for another kiss, chaste, this time and so sweet McCoy vowed that he was never going to fuck this one up again because a.) He really was too old for stupid relationship games; b.) He was kind of disgustingly in love and c.) He was a jackass and Kirk still took him back, hallelujah, hallelujah, amen.
"You still haven't explained why you were living in Spock's guesthouse," McCoy said, digging his fingers into Kirk's hair as he pulled him into a hug, holding him tight for a second just to breathe into his neck.
"Tell you later. I can come back for all this stuff, Bones, let's crawl into bed and never leave until then," Kirk said, muffled into McCoy's shoulder and then pulled away, reaching to slide the door open and revealing Uhura and Spock, standing side by side, like a weird honor guard. Uhura's hands were on her waist, hip cocked, looking like a Sports Illustrated model but one who could kill you with their mind.
"Are you leaving?" She demanded, looking back and forth between Kirk and McCoy. Kirk nodded and Uhura softened.
"Good. Because I was going to kick you out tomorrow, anyway. My parents are coming to visit." She turned on and strode towards the house.
McCoy looked at his neighbor. "I can't believe you got to marry someone that hot," he told Spock.
Kirk slapped a hand on his face and groaned.
Spock's face crumpled just the slightest, a hint of scorn in his eyes. "My wife is the correct temperature for a normal, healthy human being." He retorted and then went after Uhura.
"So, anyway, my roommate-- his name was Gary-- was all 'Hey, Jim, I've enlisted' and then forgets to tell me that the lease to our two bedroom was actually up at the end of the month," Kirk said later, while McCoy was making a spectacular constellation of hickeys on his chest. McCoy looked up at him, considering, and then bent his head again.
"Was he your boyfriend or something?" McCoy asked, clamping his teeth over Jim's left nipple and tugging.
"Ow, cut it out! No, he wasn't my, oh god, do that," Kirk said, when McCoy soothed over it with his tongue. "And then one day I come home and there's a note on the door that says I have twenty-four hours to pack everything up and leave," Kirk said, arching into McCoy's mouth and reaching between them to take McCoy's cock in his hand.
"Anyway, I was kind of bummed after that," Kirk kept talking, even as McCoy slid lower and took his erection into his mouth. "Because it was really near the office and my beat but then this route opened up and I guess, it worked out. Spock wouldn't let me live in a motel while I looked for another space."
"Mmmph," McCoy agreed, sucking Kirk down deep and watching him arch off the mattress.
"Yeah, he was all 'I do not believe it was prudent for you to be spending money when you know you are always welcome in my residence,'" Kirk said, starting to shake.
"I'll show you prudent," McCoy growled, flipping Kirk over.
After that, McCoy somewhat regretted that his previous relationships didn't progress as spectacularly after fights as this one did because make-up sex was incredible. He was under no illusions that Kirk had forgiven him right away, although the delicious whimpering noises he made when he came could have fooled him.
"Are you still mad at me?" McCoy asked, as he slid into Kirk.
"Not if you keep doing that," Kirk said, sounding languid and blissed out.
"Okay," McCoy said, putting his back into it. "Because Joanna is coming to visit next week."
Jocelyn seemed taken aback when he'd insisted she let Joanna visit him, instead of making her go to Jesus camp. They had never really argued before, even during the divorce. McCoy seemed to remember just acquiescing to everything because he didn't want it to be ugly for Joanna and that it had cost him missing out see his little girl grow up.
"What's gotten into you?" Jocelyn asked, sounding more surprised than angry.
"I don't want to get into that," McCoy had said because he couldn't give her an answer that wasn't completely debauched. But in the end, Jocelyn agreed to put Joanna on a plane and McCoy had convinced Kirk to come pick her up with him, "unless you want to be waiting at home like a housewife or something."
"Yeah," Kirk had said. "But what housewife would do this?" He asked and flipped McCoy onto his stomach and rimmed him until he was sobbing into the pillow.
Kirk seemed nervous when they stood at arrivals but he'd relaxed by the time Joanna emerged and walked right towards them. She threw herself at McCoy and squeezed him hard and something in McCoy's chest felt fit to burst. And then she turned to Kirk.
She'd grown a few inches since the last time he'd seen her and she was already trying to push the envelope of grown-uppedness with a glossy mouth and glittery eye-shadow. McCoy wisely kept his mouth shut, even though the sneakers with the wedge heel were a bit strange.
"How do you do?" She said to Kirk politely and stuck her hand out, all business-like.
"I'm fine, thank you," Kirk said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it instead. Joanna, who apparently had the secret soul of a Southern belle like her father, melted like butter.
Dinner went without a hitch.
"You're really cute, did you know that? I can see why my dad likes you," Joanna babbled happily, over her ravioli. "Oh my god, I have so many questions. I hope you don't think it's too weird but would you pretend to be my boyfriend sometime? It's not an obligation or whatever but it would totally make those head bitchleader twins T'Pring and T'Pol soooo jealous." She wiped her mouth daintily with her napkin and looked up at Kirk, who looked like he was about to have a fit.
"No, absolutely not," McCoy intervened, stabbing a potato and using it to point at her.
"Why not!?" Joanna protested, flicking her hair behind her shoulder.
"Because he's daddy's boyfriend, alright?" McCoy snapped, firmly putting the potato in his mouth and chewing it, end of story. He refused to look at Kirk for his reaction but a hand slid onto his thigh and squeezed it under the table.
Joanna rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Duh. That's why it's called pretend," she said, turning to Kirk. "They are so difficult when they get older."
Kirk burst out laughing and passed her the dessert menu.
"Man, she is a handful," Kirk said, panting into McCoy's mouth. "And so are you," he leered, as he stroked McCoy until he was hard.
"Please don't bring my teenaged daughter up in any conversation that happens when we're having sex," McCoy gritted out.
Kirk laughed with delight, "I have a thing for McCoys," he chuckled and McCoy tried to find something, anything that he could smother Kirk with.
"For god's sake, keep it down! She is down the hall!" McCoy said, a little panicked and set about finding ways to shut him up. Joanna meant the world to him and so did Kirk. Dinner had gone well, better than he had expected and he didn't want all of that to go to shit because the walls of his house were thin.
"I like her," Kirk said, after he had cleaned up and grudgingly put on a pair of boxers at McCoy's insistence.
"I don't see her as often as I would like," McCoy admitted, turning to hide his face in his pillow. Kirk pulled in tight around him, as if he understood.
"And now?"
"I want to see her more often," McCoy said, tucking Kirk's hand over his chest, wanting more, wanting everything.
"You seem really happy, dad," Joanna said, while they watched hot pockets turn in the microwave. She leaned against him and McCoy put his arm around and kissed the top of her head.
"I am," McCoy said, simply, liking this near-grown up Joanna as much as he loved her at birth, at three years old, at seven, ten. "I hope you're happy too."
"Dad, I'm thirteen," Joanna said, as if that explained everything. But she turned her entire body and hugged him, tall enough that her face was in his chest, instead around his knees or his stomach.
"I wish I had done better by you, sweetheart," McCoy mumbled into her hair. Joanna replied by squeezing him tighter.
"Thanks for getting me out of Jesus Camp, dad," Joanna said, looking up at him with his blue eyes and clearly meaning I'm just happy that you're happy and I love you because you're my dad.
Kirk had already gone to work but insisted he'd be back early so they could drive out to dinner and a movie.
"It's a pretend date," Kirk teased Joanna and then grinned over her head at McCoy. "You can be the over-protective, hovering father who seduces me from her all Mrs. Robinson-like, you cougar you."
"Jesus Christ, watch your mouth!" McCoy said, clapping his hands over Joanna's face while she giggled and squirmed. "You are not allowed to date until you are thirty," McCoy said to Joanna who rolled her eyes at him.
"Don't worry, dad," Joanna said. "I just want the pictures for my Facebook."
Joanna, who hardly ever cried even as a baby, teared up at the gate and soaked through McCoy's shoulder as she hugged him and then Kirk.
"Dad, you better let me come over for Christmas," Joanna said, sticking her pinky out at him. "Pinky swear on it," she insisted. Kirk laughed as McCoy obliged her and then punched him in the arm afterward, aware of the fond look that was growing on Joanna's face.
"Add me on Facebook, JT," Joanna said, wriggling her eyebrows at him. "I need to fake all my status to corroborate the pictures."
"Sure thing, Jojo," Kirk said, reaching over to tweak her nose.
"And take care of my dad or I will ruin your internet reputation," Joanna said and then turned to leave for her gate.
"Man, she is something," Kirk said, sliding an arm around McCoy's waist. "I'd like to see her and Spock in the same room."
"Please never repeat that sentence again," McCoy scowled but it was hard because there was a lump in his throat. "But she is," he agreed, reaching over to take Kirk's hand. "Let's head home."
"Can we stop at McDonald's?" Kirk asked, squeezing McCoy's fingers.
"You'd think I had two kids, instead of the one," McCoy grumbled but he knew he would do it only because it was Kirk who was asking.
"You missed a spot," McCoy said, putting his feet up on the ledge of his porch rail. He wore only a pair of old boardshorts and was drinking an iced tea, a pair of aviators he hadn't worn in years now perched on his nose.
"This was more fun when I did this to get your attention," Kirk grumbled, pushing the lawn mower across the lawn.
"You insist on putting Jean-Luc out of business, you're going to have to see it through," McCoy pointed out. "That poor kid, didn't you know he was saving money so he could build his own android? You really should be ashamed."
"Yeah, well, now I'm just feeling objectified. Like a piece of meat!" Kirk stopped pushing the mower and jabbed a finger in McCoy's direction.
McCoy looked over his shades. "Oh please," he drawled. "You were this close to prostituting yourself for Mrs. Picard's lemonade. Besides," he said, making it sound loose and dirty and enjoying the dark look on Kirk's face. "I like meat."
Kirk raised one eyebrow and then both. McCoy grinned back.
"Leonard!" Janice called, pulling up in her tiny red convertible. "Ladies' lunch, Tuesday, my house?"
"I'll be there," McCoy yelled back, holding his hand up in a wave.
"Wait a second, is that what this is about?" Kirk yelped and turned off the mower. "When did you start getting invited to ladies' lunch?"
McCoy leaned back in his seat. "Have you tasted Tonia's tuna casserole? Lesser men have killed for it. We sit around, make phone trees. Gossip about our men," he said, smugly. "I hear there's a fund-raising calendar in the works, the naked kind," he burst out laughing at the conflicted look on Kirk's face.
"I can't believe they made you an honorary lady!" Kirk marched over to the porch. "If you get to have go to the ladies' lunch, I want a...a Mafia-themed poker night! With whiskey! And cigars!" He paused to think about it. "Wii Tennis and Mario Kart!" He added, crossing his arms.
McCoy stood and leaned over the porch rail. "You can have whatever you want," he said and kissed him.
Three Outtakes!
1. [coup d'etat]
"Hikaru," Chekov said, sticking his head out of Examination Room Two. "Hikaru, is the coast clear?"
"Coast is clear," Sulu said, coming around the corner. "No more appointments so I made him go home early. You okay with that?"
"I thought he would be less high-strung when he finally started getting laid regularly," Chekov said, finally coming out.
"Right?" Sulu said, digging around for his iPhone. "Okay, I should probably feel bad that we're helping Jim avoid Dr. McCoy by telling him when he's headed home but you know," he said, pocketing the phone. "I kind of like being able to get off early too." He quirked an eyebrow and then leaned in, sliding his mouth over Chekov's.
"I knew there was some kind of coup going on," Chekov said, wrapping his arms around Sulu's neck.
"You wanna go home and get all dirty Russian on me?" Sulu said, grinning at him.
2. [movie night]
"Are you crying?" Kirk asked in disbelief, sitting wedged between father and daughter on the couch.
"Shut up, you don't understand," Joanna said, snuffling into a handkerchief as Scarlett tumbled down the stairs. "Gone with the Wind is one of the most beautiful movies ever." She hugged a pillow to her chest and reached for a Kleenex to blow her nose.
"I was asking your dad," Kirk said, mildly, reaching for the popcorn.
3. [Spock makes a joke]
Spock and Jim were playing chess in the guesthouse.
"You do realize that it is no longer an option for you to be staying here, when you are already in an established relationship with the doctor next door," Spock said, taking another of Jim's pawns with his bishop.
"I don't think he realizes I've sort of moved in," Jim said. "Is that bad?"
"Logically, he is happy to have you there," Spock said, staring at the board. "Logically, my guesthouse will be empty and that makes Nyota happy. When Nyota is happy, she and I engage in--."
"--okay, that ends there. I get it," Jim held up a hand. "But I should tell him shouldn't I? Because with Bones, it's never really planned. He just went yeah, toss your stuff in with my laundry, it's not a big deal. And help yourself to the fridge. And stay over, every night. He never asks where I live. I'm still waiting for him to get my celphone number."
"Hm," Spock said, making it sound like I really don't care. "I fail to understand why you will not simply give him your number. Is that not the proper decorum when engaging a close, personal relationship?"
"I'm being a girl about this, aren't I? I'm waiting for him to ask for it so he call me back except he hasn't because I'm practically living with him anyway," Jim said. "Oh, and check."
Spock bristled the slightest bit. Only someone like Jim who has known him long enough can tell. Spock looked up at him after a long moment of staring at the chess board. "Jim, as far as I can tell you have the upper hand in this relationship. I think that you should merely step forward and profess how you feel. In chess terms," Spock raised a bishop. "You act as if you are a bishop, able only to move in one particular direction when in fact--" He reached across and knocked over Jim's queen.
"--you are a queen and can move wherever you want," Spock said, looking up, his eyes glinting with just the tiniest hint of amusement while Jim gaped at him.
"Checkmate."
.