Big Bang Fic: Autopsy of the Heart, 8-13/24
All notes, disclaimers and thanks are in part 1.
parts 1-3
parts 4-7
Part 8
Love or Liberalism
Or
I’m Going to Change You for Your Own Good
January 2256 (2233)
1.
Kirk remembers Winona and Frank’s first fight. It was over something as stupid as a dress.
She’d dressed up for a party, and she came down the stairs super slow for full effect. This was an entrance.
His ten year old self lay sprawled on the couch, watching TV, the dog on the floor and his hand playing with its ears. Frank sat in the armchair reading the sports pages.
“Well?” she said.
Both of them looked up; she was trying not to smile. Kirk remembers sitting up, and saying, “Wow!” because that’s what his mum wanted but the fact that his mum’s boobs were hanging out made him feel embarrassed.
“If you think you’re leaving the house dressed like that…” Frank grumbled and then he was back reading the paper.
Kirk couldn’t look at his mum’s face. He couldn’t look at her at all.
He turned up the TV to blot out the conversation, the same conversation he’d later hear acted out with different words in bars he’d eventually work in, in restaurants he’d bus, in fuel stations as he re-energized power cells, and that he vowed he would never, ever have.
Even aged ten he wanted to know when things had changed between Frank and his Mom; how had they ended up arguing like this over a dress? It wasn’t so long ago he had to knock before entering the TV room. He was glad that was over at least; he’d missed his couch.
2.
“But the party's tonight, Frank!”
“Wear a different dress.” His step-dad's voice was flat, like he spoke to the dog when he meant business.
“I don’t have a different dress. Frank. This is it. Hey, don’t you think I look pretty in this dress?”
Of course she had different dresses. They both (the three of them) knew that.
“You always look pretty. You look pretty without exposing yourself. I don’t want everyone at the party ogling you. I’ll look like a jerk!”
“So you don’t like my dress? You think I look ugly in it?”
Jim slipped out and, from his room, he heard chairs moving about, doors slamming, voices rising and falling, the TV still blaring in the corner and the occasional bark from the dog.
“Win, you aren’t leaving the fucking house in that dress. I won’t be seen near you like that.”
Ok, so her boobs were kinda embarrassing but young Kirk knew his step-dad was being harsh.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s the 23rd century for Chrissakes.”
“You’re my wife, dammit.”
“You don’t own me.”
“No, I don’t. But if I did, you wouldn’t dress like a slut.”
Jim lay on his bed, crying silently, listening. His mother, who worked for Starfleet, reduced to this.
“I can’t believe you called me a slut.”
“I said you dressed like one, I didn’t say you were one." Frank’s voice dropped; Kirk didn't need to be able to hear what was happening now. He was able to fill in the blanks. Frank probably had his arms around his mom and was saying something like, "It’s because I love you, hon, I don’t want people to think bad things about you.”
Because of love.
He knew they were making up on the couch then, because he heard the dog being shooed out of the living room.
3.
It seemed pretty straightforward to Kirk. If people loved you, if people hated you, they took away your freedom.
It was as if they had this picture in their heads of what someone was supposed to be like and then another picture what they were actually like and they tugged one image over the other. Whether you liked it or not.
It didn't even seem confined to romantic love. Parents did this to their kids, sibling to sibling, but worst of all was what happened between lovers.
How much better his way, Jim’s way. The way he fucked, the way he was a friend, was to celebrate the person he hung out with fully for what they were. None of this bullshit about I wish you were this and I wish you were that. Or he'd be as bad as everyone else.
And if there was one value Kirk upheld above all others, was that of respecting freedom.
4.
Arguments like those between lovers never happen between friends, Kirk decided. Friends just don’t cross that line, do they?
5.
“What do you think of the mission, Bones?”
McCoy took a step back from fixing Kirk’s cheek.
“Don’t tell me this fight was about higher things for once?”
“Don't get excited - it was about the usual stuff, some asshole getting into my space - but Bones, do you ever wonder if what Starfleet is doing is right? I mean, they talk about loving freedom and defending the rights of member planets but, you know, what if none of it’s any of our business?”
“And you decide nearly five months into your program that this might be a waste of time? Jesus, Jim.”
“No, I haven’t decided anything, Bones, don’t fucking panic, ok? I’m just asking questions. Or have you forgotten what it means to exercise our basic human rights?”
“I’m a doctor not a philosopher, Jim. And if you imply again that I don’t respect human rights, I’m gonna zap you.” He indicated the tray of hypos behind him.
“We’re peacekeepers Bones.”
“Why are you worrying about this stuff, Jim?” McCoy pulled up a chair.
“If I’m going to be a captain - “
“When you’re a captain…”
“I have to know I’m right.”
McCoy snorted. “The day you doubt if you’re right will be the day the sun freezes over, Jim.”
“But it’s when people, federations, think they’re right that…they abuse, don’t they?”
“Jim, I don’t understand-”
Sure… Bones hadn’t seen the things he’d seen. He hadn’t seen what people could do in the name of ‘this is right’.
5.
“Holy shit, Bones, what the fuck are those?”
Bones glanced down at his feet and waggled his socked toes.
“They were a present from Joanna, and because it’s my birthday I’m damn well wearing them.”
Dr Seus socks. Grinch socks. Even though Christmas was long past - how apt.
“But - “Jim began.
McCoy raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.
Kirk remembered the prime directive, shrugged and said, “Come on, handsome, lets go!”
“And for the record, you evah call me handsom’ again, I’ll make you eat these socks. After I’ve worn them for a week.”
Hmm…he always went super southern when Kirk got to him, but the irritation, Kirk observed while he waited for his friend to put on his shoes, was defused by a nice helping of humor.
Kirk realized that while Frank and his Mom had had sexual chemistry in spades, what had gone missing between them pretty damn quick were the jokes.
In the cab, McCoy stretched out long legs, teased up his pants and rotated an ankle.
Kirk groaned dramatically.
This may have been the point that he realized that he could no more stop loving Bones than he could imprison him. Feeling this had become part of his chemistry and he had no control; it had become part of his nature. Well, he might not be able to control his feelings, fine. He could control what he did. What he couldn’t do was control other people.
He could smell McCoy sitting close, but not touching, in the cab; consciously Kirk inhaled the smell of toothpaste, cigarette smoke on his jacket from when they’d been chatting to one of the cadets while they’d waited for a cab, the faintest smell of shampoo in his hair. He knew what his skin smelled like from times he’d leant close and McCoy had half-carried him home. He’d never been as drunk as he’d looked.
Even if (tribbles could fly) McCoy did love him, (which he didn’t), how could he be sure that he’d have the same enlightened views as himself? Did Bones respect freedom as much as he did? Had Bones tried to change Jocelyn? Was that why it had all gone wrong?
"I hate to say this, Jim, and actually agree with you, but these socks are something else."
"I was right,” Jim nodded. “Like you said, I’m always sure.”
"You had my own best interests at heart, I know." McCoy squeezed his arm.
Despite McCoy's grin, Kirk felt a chill at his heart.
This love nonsense - nothing but trouble...
Part 9
Beauty
Or
League Tables
January 2256
1.
Kirk wondered if he loved McCoy because he was beautiful, or had McCoy become beautiful because he loved him?
It pissed Jim off that he was even thinking this stuff still, but while he had no control over his heart, he could still use his brain - he just had to understand.
So he went over it again and again; why did this particular face, those particular hazel eyes and those particular lips drive him crazy? When he considered how many pairs of eyes he’d got up close and personal with, how many lips he’d kissed and been kissed by, he wondered why this man, this face?
2.
It made it worse that McCoy had no idea that he was beautiful - at least as far as Kirk could tell without directly asking him. With women, there were clues about this his mom, for example, had often grumbled at her reflection when she dressed to go out. This was his experience of women other than in bed; despite the number of women he had slept with, he'd seen barely any getting ready to go out, maybe just dressing to leave, 'after'. How could you tell if someone thought they were attractive or not? How much of the swagger and the preening was cover up and how much was real? If they wanted to fuck you, did that mean they thought they were gorgeous or that you were?
McCoy, was harder to read than women, and harder to read than most guys. Sure he appeared to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Kirk was convinced that the permanent grouchiness was deflection. Plus the sourness was evidence (if the recent liaison with Michael were anything to go by) that he wasn't getting laid anywhere near enough.
3.
Kirk knew people, knew how to read them. But what he'd come to realize since he’d met Bones, was that, as often as not, he went on guts and instinct, and when it came to hard evidence and having to prove why he believed something to be true about someone, it wasn’t so straightforward. He might be able to read what people needed in bed; what their intent was in fights and confrontations but, in matters of love, he didn’t have a fucking clue. Sex yes. Love no.
4.
When Kirk looked in the mirror, he knew he looked good; he knew which cards he held and how to turn them to his advantage.
Yet, he couldn’t be sure what Bones thought when he looked at himself. He suspected that if anyone had ever dared tell Bones he was attractive, let alone ‘beautiful’, he’d have spluttered, he’d have cursed. Hell, he might even have blushed. Above all, he would have been surprised.
The fact that Leonard McCoy showed no signs that he knew how beautiful he was made Kirk ache with love for him even more.
6.
He also knew that McCoy would have had no such ego problems when it came to his abilities as a doctor. Bones never tired of telling him, or anyone else who he came across, how damned good he was.
Still...he must have some idea he was handsome as hell...?
After all, Kirk thought as he watched McCoy run his tricorder over another patient in ER, his friend was classically good looking.
Which meant he measured up against some kind of ideal. If you got all the good-looking men who were about 6ft tall, with dark hair, similar build, and with hazel eyes and put them in a police line-up with the most beautiful at one end and least beautiful at the other, where would Bones sit on that continuum? How would he measure up against the platonic ideal?
7.
“Jim, is this really important? I’ve got a lot to do here.”
And that voice. Do voices, accents, take their place on league tables too?
“I’ll stick around, old man. Just need you to look at my eye. Or you could pass me the dermal regenerator and I’ll do it myself. Seen you do it enough times…”
“That would be unethical,” was the gruff reply.
McCoy’s patient winced as he hypoed him.
“There, that should do it and next time you drink, avoid piss strewn alleys and you might manage to stay upright and not break your damned skull open.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Kirk grinned. Beautiful, see?
8.
He couldn’t very well stare at McCoy’s face while he was treating him, but when his friend leaned in towards Jim; Jim could feel his breath on his cheek and it made him hot and bothered.
“Stop fidgeting, you five year old.”
When McCoy glanced away to write something on his PADD, Kirk took the opportunity to have a direct look at him.
He was sure that this particular width of lip could only be described as perfectly beautiful. By him at least.
9.
He felt a surge of happiness to be so close to this man, as friends and even now in this formal physicality.
Shit - he looked even more amazing now Kirk was doused in this unexpected emotion, and he over-rode a desire to giggle.
“Shit, Bones, what was in that hypo?”
“Pain-killer, Jim. Might make you feel a bit strange.”
“No kidding.”
10.
Kirk stretched out on the biobed.
“You can’t sleep here!”
McCoy’s top-of-the-league face looked over him, all olive skin, dark eyebrows, full lips and grouch.
“Sorry. Tired.”
Jim stared at his friend’s upper lip. Maybe it was a bit thin. And he had that slightly crooked tooth on the bottom row, in the middle. So he wasn’t perfect after all.
As Kirk swung his legs back onto the floor, he realized, with irritation, that these 'flaws' only served to make his friend sit closer to the ideal.
11.
His imagination could play with these small details that no one else would know about. It was his secret. If the day came that he might kiss Bones, he’d run his tongue along that upper lip possessively, knowingly, lovingly.
12.
“Let yourself in so I can check on you when I get back. And don’t drink anything - it’ll affect the drugs I’ve given you. You look pretty spaced out. You be ok walking home?”
“K, Bones.”
The cold of the fog hit him hard when he left the hospital. He'd said 'home'.
"Fuck, Jim -" Kirk accused himself out loud once he was out of earshot, "you are now officially a girl."
He’d settle for blaming the drugs for the light-headed feeling.
Part 10
Speaking Love
Or
Wild Horses Wouldn’t Drag it Out of Me
On any number of evenings in 2256
1.
Professor Spock had been romantically entangled with Cadet Uhura for almost a year now. Their relationship had, by necessity, been discreet. They both knew that favoritism would be an easy accusation, especially with Uhura being such a star pupil.
There was also the question of the cross species relationship which, Spock had learned, brought out the worst in people, as witnessed in his own childhood on Vulcan.
And finally, there was the question of the future. It might be illogical to become too attached when they might be, almost inevitably would be, separated once they had been assigned to starships.
2.
It was her birthday. He'd bought her a card because he had observed this was a tradition among humans, and he'd learned quickly to cease pointing out how illogical their customs were. In Nyota’s case, if he’d forgotten something like this, she might have made an unseemly display of emotion that he would have found…difficult. Yet, as his hand hovered to sign it, again illogical, for whom else would it be from if he was the one to hand it to her?
He had never told her what his feelings were towards her.
3.
Love was an emotion that ran very deep with Vulcans, but Spock controlled this emotion as effectively as he did all his others, with meditation and Uhura knew that he would not allow any outward manifestation of it.
He knew from his observation of humans on their own planet that love could be the key to unlocking Pandora’s box - an Earth myth which he found fascinating. If you let love 'out', other emotions such as jealousy, anger, lust followed behind.
4.
After all, communication, verbal and non-verbal, was Nyota’s genius. She knew of his regard, and it would be illogical to tell her something she already knew.
5.
Yet humans are an illogical, emotional species. He considered that Nyota might wish that he told her he loved her. In words. But if this was the case, would she not ask him directly?
6.
In a society where there is so much romantic literature, where gossip about who loves or desires whom is the fabric of the airways and popular news, where every other song overheard is about falling in love, falling out of love, never finding love or unrequited love, how could he, an alien, a Vulcan express in the words, ‘I love you’ the same meaning a human would? Indeed, there was no logical reason for him to do so. He also found the idea of doing so intensely uncomfortable. Yet, while he and Nyota were compatible and she knew from their melds that he held her in high regard, as a non-telepath, as a human, she had grown up in a culture where expressing ‘love’ was expected. Expressing it once, he'd observed, did not suffice. Humans sought reassurance on a regular basis that they were loved. He found this illogical but humans were illogical.
Indeed, how could Spock guarantee that in between leaving his mouth and being received by her brain, the words intended by him to mean loyalty, to express care, sexual desire and a life long bond, might not somehow change to mean something else? While this was true of all communication, how much more likely between two alien cultures.
7.
Spock met Uhura in a restaurant on the far side of San Francisco where they were sure no one would see them. It was what humans would call ‘romantic’; candles (which Spock thought were dangerous and gave a 10% chance of the evening ending in flight from a conflagration), checked table clothes and Italian food. He knew, from his research, it had a high vegetarian choice, but he was apprehensive about the quantity of garlic used in the dishes.
Nevertheless, he thought, as he pulled out Nyota’s chair - another custom he’d learned was easier to adopt than question - if he could control his emotions, controlling his reaction to rebellious taste buds would hardly be a challenge.
8.
They ate in silence. A unique aspect of their relationship was that Nyota, forever surrounded by the Babel of many tongues and languages, often preferred silence and simple communication through touch. He had, with her permission, entered her mind many times so he often knew what she wanted to say and there was no need.
He knew she loved him, he’d seen it in her thoughts. And so she knew he loved her.
But he’d never said it.
11.
“This time last year I didn’t even know you.” She was smiling; her dark eyes glowed in the candle light, her chocolate skin shone in the warm light. She’d had two glasses of wine and Spock observed with a raised eyebrow that it was as if some of the bones in her spine had been removed.
“I am pleased I know you, Nyota.”
His voice was even but he hoped she understood the depth of that statement. He was reminded of how inadequate mere words were for humans. Adequate certainly for explaining processes and carrying information, but for bearing the import of compatibility, sexual desire - words failed time and time again. Humans resorted to action, sex, violence to express how they felt.
“I’m pleased you’re pleased.” She said. “Spock, I -“
"Yes?” He un-steepled his hands and leaned across to take hers, the one not gripping the wine glass stem. “Do you desire more wine?”
“For a communications expert, I’m finding it hard to express myself… I want to say…” a little giggle.
“That you…” he drew a heart in the air between them, his face he knew would be impassive but he detected a rise in his heart-rate. “…me.” He finished.
The 'picture' served to communicate how he felt more efficiently than a word. It showed the organ that romantic humans believed the feeling of love originated from. He on the other hand, knew it came from the primal need of all living beings to mate and reproduce, and while logic and science had their appeal, Spock understood his human side well enough not to mention that here and ruin the moment of closeness.
“Yes, Spock. That’s what I-“and their fingertips touched, enough for them to close their eyes and Spock knew that Uhura had remembered that words weren’t necessary.
Part 11
What Do You See in Her/Him?
Or
If You Are Dying of Thirst You'll See an Oasis
March 2256
1.
Sulu was a year ahead of Kirk officially but in the same year of study since the object of his affection was being fast-tracked.
He received comms from his brother on a regular basis.
I haven’t heard from you in a while, Hik. Some woman keeping you busy? ; D
No. I still don't like women. And it’s none of your business.
I’m your brother.
Sulu waited for the inevitable question.
What’s he like?
I said, none of your business…. You going to Auntie’s on Sunday?
Try and stop me! And don’t think I’m letting you get away with this, k?
2.
So, what was he like? What did he see in Kirk?
He cast his mind back to the evening before when he’d stood next to Kirk at the bar. They had progressed to nodding terms which, on Kirk’s part, also often included a genuine and brilliant smile.
He’d watched Kirk out of the corner of his eye. He loved the way he stood at the bar, up on his toes to attract the bartender’s attention. He took an erotic delight in watching him slide his credit chip towards the barman for payment.
What did he like about James Kirk?
Everything.
3.
Sulu fancied himself as a bit of philosopher. He thought about beauty a great deal and he thought about it broadly.
It would have been so easy to find beauty in Jim’s eyes, his black rimmed blue eyes, in his pale lips which he couldn’t seem to stop licking as if he was taunting those who couldn’t but, how much more testing and satisfying to find beauty in those things that others might not have spotted: the way he crossed his legs when he sat at a table opposite McCoy; the way his sleeve fell open at the wrist to reveal the perfect combination of veins disappearing out of sight; the intonation of his laugh...
4.
Sulu saw the beauty in his plants, of course, but in all of them, not just the showy ones, and he took pleasure in nurturing the plainer specimens with as much love and care as any beauty.
5.
Sulu also appreciated that he saw the beauty in activity. Part of the appeal of fencing was the range and speed of movement, balletic, masculine and feminine at once. His second greatest desire was that one day he could teach Kirk how to fence.
6.
Sulu knew that his ability to enjoy beauty in so many different ways was borne of love. He doubted that someone who didn’t love plants would notice the beauty in a plumorisinia’s tentacle. In the same way, only someone who loved Jim could find the faint scars on his face from teenage acne utterly gorgeous.
7.
Sometimes, when Sulu felt himself blush as Kirk approached, he wondered if his fascination with this incredible man might be a bit odd.
What if his interest had slipped from love to obsession, from fact to fantasy?
Something told him that the test of this would be, was he prepared to tell anyone else what he liked about Kirk?
8.
For Sulu, love was something that he would have to do on his own. He knew it was pointless telling his brother what it was that he saw in Kirk. His brother hadn’t asked him what Kirk was like, but what he liked about him. It was his subjective viewpoint that he was after. And he wasn’t going to get it.
9.
Sulu watched Kirk nursing his beer, reading his PADD, and he wondered if indeed he was suffering from madness. Perhaps it wasn’t ‘Kirk the man’ he loved, but merely the idea of him that he saw clustered around his shirtsleeves and heard in his laugh. Perhaps those lips were not the most perfect lips after all. He just wanted to believe that they were.
This ordinary man, sitting at a bar table, stylus in hand, wasn’t writing creative poetry; he simply bore the face of a poet while learning basic Klingon.
Walking through a barren desert, so in need of love, so thirsty for it, Sulu, a man who truly was driven by love in all the things he did, had needed a drink so badly that he'd created an oasis called James Kirk.
Part 12
Skeptism and Faith
Or
Don’t Burst the Bubble
March 2256
1.
McCoy was a doctor, not a pilgrim. He believed in what he could see, measure, test and prove. He thought about this one morning when he woke up with a brazen erection, fully dressed on his bed next to James T Kirk. There was an imaginary force-field between them and his back ached from the effort of not bumping into Jim all night.
2.
But of late, he had also become a philosopher. He thought about the difference between appearance and reality. I think I see Jim lying on my bed. He said to himself. He could be an optical illusion. He tried again, and breathed deeply to stop himself laughing at where his mind was going - I could have an erection. It could be an optical illusion. Of course it was ridiculous, it was easy to doubt the existence of something like a table, a chair, a man in your bed, a torpedo in your pants.
3.
It wasn’t so easy to doubt the existence of his love.
4.
If he began to doubt, to test and to look for evidence here, where would he be then?
You had to believe to be in love. To have faith.
“Jim?” he whispered.
No answer.
Bones eased his pants open, taking care not to rock the bed too much in case he woke Kirk up.
I think I see Jim lying on my bed. He said in his head. He straightened his cock out, keeping it concealed by his shirt. He’d have to be careful, just roll the end around between his fingers and thumb, didn’t need to jerk off completely. He could do that later in the bathroom. For now, he just wanted to indulge his belief in love. For the moment it didn’t matter whether Jim was really there or not.
What mattered was how he felt.
5.
Thing is, he couldn’t understand how he’d come to feel like this so soon, so hard and so inconveniently, dammit. He looked at Jim and squeezed the end of his cock and felt a bit creepy at the same time and with some difficulty tucked himself back into his pants. It was hormones, chemistry, chemicals…he needed to break this down, measure it, test it, understand it.
6.
It made no sense, yet he was in love. McCoy didn’t doubt it, he just didn’t understand it. The way he felt was as real as the man lying on his bed now snoring, making his heart ache and his cock taunt him.
Part 13
Intimacy
Or
You Could Have Your Own Drawer
March 2256
1.
“You’ve got so much of your shit lying around here; you might as well move in, Jim.”
“No thanks.”
“But if you’re here all the time, why not…?“ Shit, did he really very nearly say make it official? McCoy didn’t manage to finish the question.
“I like living alone.”
“How you gonna cope in a tin can, in space surrounded by hundreds of crew members, you moron?”
Kirk opened his eyes wide and scooted his stool closer to McCoy.
“By keeping my own room.”
2.
That night, McCoy made a mental list of Jim’s possessions scattered around his room, noting each new item with a finger on his hand.
a) one of Jim’s PADDS under the bed (left thumb)
b) Jim’s toothbrush in the bathroom (left index finger)
c) Half a dozen movies and a shitload of music which Jim owned but had somehow found their way into his PADD. Did hacking in count as someone leaving their stuff lying around?
d) Jim’s t-shirt under his pillow - maybe that didn’t really count because he’d stolen that and put it there himself. Still there were at least a dozen items regularly came back from his laundry that were Jim’s. And he was counting pairs of socks as one damned item.
His comm. beeped.
McCoy, is Jim there? From Pike.
No he fucking isn’t. Am I his keeper? I’ll tell him you were looking for him.
He deleted the parts of the message that would have had him court-martialed and hit send. No he isn’t. I’ll tell him you were looking for him.
Surely that counted as item e) on his list? Jim left his presence around too. People expected him to be in McCoy’s room when he wasn’t alone in his own.
f) There was Jim’s comm in McCoy’s jeans on the chair! Jim had handed it to him the night before for safe keeping. It was bleeping like a mutha with missed messages and calls. McCoy turned it off. Serve him right for not agreeing to move in and make life easier for everyone concerned. (Right thumb).
3.
McCoy's intimate knowledge about Kirk also extended to the contents of his backpack. He knew by now that if Kirk had it with him, it would mean he was planning to spend the night.
He couldn't help peeking at what was inside when Jim had left it open on the bed once: that looked like a spare t shirt; some socks; he couldn’t be certain, but he was sure Kirk wouldn’t stress about whether or not he’d packed underpants since he was pretty laissez faire about the whole underwear thing.
He noticed that Jim always had the watermelon-flavored lip salve McCoy had bought him on account of his frequently chapped lips. McCoy had slipped it into his bag when Jim was in the shower one morning. Jim would slick his lips just before he slung the back pack over his shoulder and left for his classes. They never mentioned it but it was a little act of intimacy that…well, just developed from their close friendship. How could they talk of it? This wasn't standard medical supplies; the presence of the lip balm was evidence of McCoy at some point standing in a store, deliberating, thinking about what Jim would like and then buying the stuff.
4.
Habits began to seep into each other’s behavior too.
• Kirk now drank Kentucky Whiskey first choice.
• McCoy’s diet had become less healthy - meat and potatoes being his friend’s preferred food if left to his own devices.
• McCoy sometimes went commando - it was his little secret.
• Kirk had taken to saying 'dammit' and 'I’ll whoop your ass'.
• McCoy had taken to smiling more.
McCoy wondered, sardonically, if Kirk had adopted his doctor friend’s new habit of jerking off every chance he got.
5.
Intimacy brought information, detail and lack of self-consciousness:
• Kirk wondered around naked, it seemed, all the time.
• McCoy learned his friend was circumcised.
• He learned that Kirk loved to floss.
• He also always took his PADD to the bathroom with him in the morning as well as a cup of coffee.
He knew what Kirk looked like before he sneezed, the exact angle at which he threw his head back when he laughed, how he ate all his meat, then his vegetables separately, how he smelled when he came out of the shower, how he cleaned his nails meticulously with a brush. How kind he was to new cadets.
6.
McCoy tried to put himself in his friend’s shoes and imagine what Kirk might have found out about him. He’d certainly told him all about his break up with Jocelyn. He knew about Joanna. No other cadet or doctor he worked with knew any of that. This was more of an 'exposure' and required more trust than Kirk wiping his ass in front of him.
7.
Their first act of intimacy had been for Kirk to rename McCoy and for McCoy to allow it.
Sometimes McCoy would call him Captain, but this was teasing, not a pet name. He had yet to find a term of endearment that fitted, and McCoy realized that intimacy was a two way street.
8.
Intimacy gives license to ungracious, gossipy, spiteful talk. About others. About those who are not in your gang of two.
So McCoy could vent about who he hated at the hospital, and who got on his fucking nerves, and who he wished he could stick which medical implement up.
In his turn, Kirk, who McCoy was the first to admit didn’t have a spiteful bone in his body, grumbled about professors, Uhura turning him down, the Kobayashi Ma and the pointlessness of the tests he had to endure.
9.
They were bonded by the many experiences that they’d had together, the memories that they shared with each other.
Such as the night they came back from a bar and found one of the cadets had been mugged for his comm in San Francisco. Kirk had called security, McCoy had patched him up. Kirk was the one who put his arm round him and walked him back to his room so the guy could sleep easy.
There was the time they found the stray dog on the beach and Kirk had rolled around in the sand with it, throwing sticks while Bones stretched out and watched, his heart thick with feeling for this incredible creature, the object of his love.
These incidents cemented their friendship and McCoy wondered what other memories and experiences they would share if they ever made it to the same Starship.
10.
And they developed some language, some words of their own, ways of suggesting shall we go for a drink, apologizing, for Kirk to tell McCoy he needed to leave the bar with someone and he should make his own way home tonight. Shared, private and unique to their relationship.
Whatever that relationship was, he hadn't quite found a word that adequately defined it.
11.
“Jim, do you like fishing?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Why do you ask?” Jim said, searching under McCoy’s bed for his sneakers.
“Dunno, I thought maybe we could go home for Spring break. Do some fishin’…”
“You could teach me!” Jim was all wide eyed and innocent.
McCoy fought the impulse to somersault onto the bed. “Idiot,” he growled, “I’ll book somewhere. If I leave to you it’ll never happen.”
Or if he left it entirely to fate.
click here for parts 14-18
parts 1-3
parts 4-7
Part 8
Love or Liberalism
Or
I’m Going to Change You for Your Own Good
January 2256 (2233)
1.
Kirk remembers Winona and Frank’s first fight. It was over something as stupid as a dress.
She’d dressed up for a party, and she came down the stairs super slow for full effect. This was an entrance.
His ten year old self lay sprawled on the couch, watching TV, the dog on the floor and his hand playing with its ears. Frank sat in the armchair reading the sports pages.
“Well?” she said.
Both of them looked up; she was trying not to smile. Kirk remembers sitting up, and saying, “Wow!” because that’s what his mum wanted but the fact that his mum’s boobs were hanging out made him feel embarrassed.
“If you think you’re leaving the house dressed like that…” Frank grumbled and then he was back reading the paper.
Kirk couldn’t look at his mum’s face. He couldn’t look at her at all.
He turned up the TV to blot out the conversation, the same conversation he’d later hear acted out with different words in bars he’d eventually work in, in restaurants he’d bus, in fuel stations as he re-energized power cells, and that he vowed he would never, ever have.
Even aged ten he wanted to know when things had changed between Frank and his Mom; how had they ended up arguing like this over a dress? It wasn’t so long ago he had to knock before entering the TV room. He was glad that was over at least; he’d missed his couch.
2.
“But the party's tonight, Frank!”
“Wear a different dress.” His step-dad's voice was flat, like he spoke to the dog when he meant business.
“I don’t have a different dress. Frank. This is it. Hey, don’t you think I look pretty in this dress?”
Of course she had different dresses. They both (the three of them) knew that.
“You always look pretty. You look pretty without exposing yourself. I don’t want everyone at the party ogling you. I’ll look like a jerk!”
“So you don’t like my dress? You think I look ugly in it?”
Jim slipped out and, from his room, he heard chairs moving about, doors slamming, voices rising and falling, the TV still blaring in the corner and the occasional bark from the dog.
“Win, you aren’t leaving the fucking house in that dress. I won’t be seen near you like that.”
Ok, so her boobs were kinda embarrassing but young Kirk knew his step-dad was being harsh.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s the 23rd century for Chrissakes.”
“You’re my wife, dammit.”
“You don’t own me.”
“No, I don’t. But if I did, you wouldn’t dress like a slut.”
Jim lay on his bed, crying silently, listening. His mother, who worked for Starfleet, reduced to this.
“I can’t believe you called me a slut.”
“I said you dressed like one, I didn’t say you were one." Frank’s voice dropped; Kirk didn't need to be able to hear what was happening now. He was able to fill in the blanks. Frank probably had his arms around his mom and was saying something like, "It’s because I love you, hon, I don’t want people to think bad things about you.”
Because of love.
He knew they were making up on the couch then, because he heard the dog being shooed out of the living room.
3.
It seemed pretty straightforward to Kirk. If people loved you, if people hated you, they took away your freedom.
It was as if they had this picture in their heads of what someone was supposed to be like and then another picture what they were actually like and they tugged one image over the other. Whether you liked it or not.
It didn't even seem confined to romantic love. Parents did this to their kids, sibling to sibling, but worst of all was what happened between lovers.
How much better his way, Jim’s way. The way he fucked, the way he was a friend, was to celebrate the person he hung out with fully for what they were. None of this bullshit about I wish you were this and I wish you were that. Or he'd be as bad as everyone else.
And if there was one value Kirk upheld above all others, was that of respecting freedom.
4.
Arguments like those between lovers never happen between friends, Kirk decided. Friends just don’t cross that line, do they?
5.
“What do you think of the mission, Bones?”
McCoy took a step back from fixing Kirk’s cheek.
“Don’t tell me this fight was about higher things for once?”
“Don't get excited - it was about the usual stuff, some asshole getting into my space - but Bones, do you ever wonder if what Starfleet is doing is right? I mean, they talk about loving freedom and defending the rights of member planets but, you know, what if none of it’s any of our business?”
“And you decide nearly five months into your program that this might be a waste of time? Jesus, Jim.”
“No, I haven’t decided anything, Bones, don’t fucking panic, ok? I’m just asking questions. Or have you forgotten what it means to exercise our basic human rights?”
“I’m a doctor not a philosopher, Jim. And if you imply again that I don’t respect human rights, I’m gonna zap you.” He indicated the tray of hypos behind him.
“We’re peacekeepers Bones.”
“Why are you worrying about this stuff, Jim?” McCoy pulled up a chair.
“If I’m going to be a captain - “
“When you’re a captain…”
“I have to know I’m right.”
McCoy snorted. “The day you doubt if you’re right will be the day the sun freezes over, Jim.”
“But it’s when people, federations, think they’re right that…they abuse, don’t they?”
“Jim, I don’t understand-”
Sure… Bones hadn’t seen the things he’d seen. He hadn’t seen what people could do in the name of ‘this is right’.
5.
“Holy shit, Bones, what the fuck are those?”
Bones glanced down at his feet and waggled his socked toes.
“They were a present from Joanna, and because it’s my birthday I’m damn well wearing them.”
Dr Seus socks. Grinch socks. Even though Christmas was long past - how apt.
“But - “Jim began.
McCoy raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.
Kirk remembered the prime directive, shrugged and said, “Come on, handsome, lets go!”
“And for the record, you evah call me handsom’ again, I’ll make you eat these socks. After I’ve worn them for a week.”
Hmm…he always went super southern when Kirk got to him, but the irritation, Kirk observed while he waited for his friend to put on his shoes, was defused by a nice helping of humor.
Kirk realized that while Frank and his Mom had had sexual chemistry in spades, what had gone missing between them pretty damn quick were the jokes.
In the cab, McCoy stretched out long legs, teased up his pants and rotated an ankle.
Kirk groaned dramatically.
This may have been the point that he realized that he could no more stop loving Bones than he could imprison him. Feeling this had become part of his chemistry and he had no control; it had become part of his nature. Well, he might not be able to control his feelings, fine. He could control what he did. What he couldn’t do was control other people.
He could smell McCoy sitting close, but not touching, in the cab; consciously Kirk inhaled the smell of toothpaste, cigarette smoke on his jacket from when they’d been chatting to one of the cadets while they’d waited for a cab, the faintest smell of shampoo in his hair. He knew what his skin smelled like from times he’d leant close and McCoy had half-carried him home. He’d never been as drunk as he’d looked.
Even if (tribbles could fly) McCoy did love him, (which he didn’t), how could he be sure that he’d have the same enlightened views as himself? Did Bones respect freedom as much as he did? Had Bones tried to change Jocelyn? Was that why it had all gone wrong?
"I hate to say this, Jim, and actually agree with you, but these socks are something else."
"I was right,” Jim nodded. “Like you said, I’m always sure.”
"You had my own best interests at heart, I know." McCoy squeezed his arm.
Despite McCoy's grin, Kirk felt a chill at his heart.
This love nonsense - nothing but trouble...
Part 9
Beauty
Or
League Tables
January 2256
1.
Kirk wondered if he loved McCoy because he was beautiful, or had McCoy become beautiful because he loved him?
It pissed Jim off that he was even thinking this stuff still, but while he had no control over his heart, he could still use his brain - he just had to understand.
So he went over it again and again; why did this particular face, those particular hazel eyes and those particular lips drive him crazy? When he considered how many pairs of eyes he’d got up close and personal with, how many lips he’d kissed and been kissed by, he wondered why this man, this face?
2.
It made it worse that McCoy had no idea that he was beautiful - at least as far as Kirk could tell without directly asking him. With women, there were clues about this his mom, for example, had often grumbled at her reflection when she dressed to go out. This was his experience of women other than in bed; despite the number of women he had slept with, he'd seen barely any getting ready to go out, maybe just dressing to leave, 'after'. How could you tell if someone thought they were attractive or not? How much of the swagger and the preening was cover up and how much was real? If they wanted to fuck you, did that mean they thought they were gorgeous or that you were?
McCoy, was harder to read than women, and harder to read than most guys. Sure he appeared to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Kirk was convinced that the permanent grouchiness was deflection. Plus the sourness was evidence (if the recent liaison with Michael were anything to go by) that he wasn't getting laid anywhere near enough.
3.
Kirk knew people, knew how to read them. But what he'd come to realize since he’d met Bones, was that, as often as not, he went on guts and instinct, and when it came to hard evidence and having to prove why he believed something to be true about someone, it wasn’t so straightforward. He might be able to read what people needed in bed; what their intent was in fights and confrontations but, in matters of love, he didn’t have a fucking clue. Sex yes. Love no.
4.
When Kirk looked in the mirror, he knew he looked good; he knew which cards he held and how to turn them to his advantage.
Yet, he couldn’t be sure what Bones thought when he looked at himself. He suspected that if anyone had ever dared tell Bones he was attractive, let alone ‘beautiful’, he’d have spluttered, he’d have cursed. Hell, he might even have blushed. Above all, he would have been surprised.
The fact that Leonard McCoy showed no signs that he knew how beautiful he was made Kirk ache with love for him even more.
6.
He also knew that McCoy would have had no such ego problems when it came to his abilities as a doctor. Bones never tired of telling him, or anyone else who he came across, how damned good he was.
Still...he must have some idea he was handsome as hell...?
After all, Kirk thought as he watched McCoy run his tricorder over another patient in ER, his friend was classically good looking.
Which meant he measured up against some kind of ideal. If you got all the good-looking men who were about 6ft tall, with dark hair, similar build, and with hazel eyes and put them in a police line-up with the most beautiful at one end and least beautiful at the other, where would Bones sit on that continuum? How would he measure up against the platonic ideal?
7.
“Jim, is this really important? I’ve got a lot to do here.”
And that voice. Do voices, accents, take their place on league tables too?
“I’ll stick around, old man. Just need you to look at my eye. Or you could pass me the dermal regenerator and I’ll do it myself. Seen you do it enough times…”
“That would be unethical,” was the gruff reply.
McCoy’s patient winced as he hypoed him.
“There, that should do it and next time you drink, avoid piss strewn alleys and you might manage to stay upright and not break your damned skull open.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Kirk grinned. Beautiful, see?
8.
He couldn’t very well stare at McCoy’s face while he was treating him, but when his friend leaned in towards Jim; Jim could feel his breath on his cheek and it made him hot and bothered.
“Stop fidgeting, you five year old.”
When McCoy glanced away to write something on his PADD, Kirk took the opportunity to have a direct look at him.
He was sure that this particular width of lip could only be described as perfectly beautiful. By him at least.
9.
He felt a surge of happiness to be so close to this man, as friends and even now in this formal physicality.
Shit - he looked even more amazing now Kirk was doused in this unexpected emotion, and he over-rode a desire to giggle.
“Shit, Bones, what was in that hypo?”
“Pain-killer, Jim. Might make you feel a bit strange.”
“No kidding.”
10.
Kirk stretched out on the biobed.
“You can’t sleep here!”
McCoy’s top-of-the-league face looked over him, all olive skin, dark eyebrows, full lips and grouch.
“Sorry. Tired.”
Jim stared at his friend’s upper lip. Maybe it was a bit thin. And he had that slightly crooked tooth on the bottom row, in the middle. So he wasn’t perfect after all.
As Kirk swung his legs back onto the floor, he realized, with irritation, that these 'flaws' only served to make his friend sit closer to the ideal.
11.
His imagination could play with these small details that no one else would know about. It was his secret. If the day came that he might kiss Bones, he’d run his tongue along that upper lip possessively, knowingly, lovingly.
12.
“Let yourself in so I can check on you when I get back. And don’t drink anything - it’ll affect the drugs I’ve given you. You look pretty spaced out. You be ok walking home?”
“K, Bones.”
The cold of the fog hit him hard when he left the hospital. He'd said 'home'.
"Fuck, Jim -" Kirk accused himself out loud once he was out of earshot, "you are now officially a girl."
He’d settle for blaming the drugs for the light-headed feeling.
Part 10
Speaking Love
Or
Wild Horses Wouldn’t Drag it Out of Me
On any number of evenings in 2256
1.
Professor Spock had been romantically entangled with Cadet Uhura for almost a year now. Their relationship had, by necessity, been discreet. They both knew that favoritism would be an easy accusation, especially with Uhura being such a star pupil.
There was also the question of the cross species relationship which, Spock had learned, brought out the worst in people, as witnessed in his own childhood on Vulcan.
And finally, there was the question of the future. It might be illogical to become too attached when they might be, almost inevitably would be, separated once they had been assigned to starships.
2.
It was her birthday. He'd bought her a card because he had observed this was a tradition among humans, and he'd learned quickly to cease pointing out how illogical their customs were. In Nyota’s case, if he’d forgotten something like this, she might have made an unseemly display of emotion that he would have found…difficult. Yet, as his hand hovered to sign it, again illogical, for whom else would it be from if he was the one to hand it to her?
He had never told her what his feelings were towards her.
3.
Love was an emotion that ran very deep with Vulcans, but Spock controlled this emotion as effectively as he did all his others, with meditation and Uhura knew that he would not allow any outward manifestation of it.
He knew from his observation of humans on their own planet that love could be the key to unlocking Pandora’s box - an Earth myth which he found fascinating. If you let love 'out', other emotions such as jealousy, anger, lust followed behind.
4.
After all, communication, verbal and non-verbal, was Nyota’s genius. She knew of his regard, and it would be illogical to tell her something she already knew.
5.
Yet humans are an illogical, emotional species. He considered that Nyota might wish that he told her he loved her. In words. But if this was the case, would she not ask him directly?
6.
In a society where there is so much romantic literature, where gossip about who loves or desires whom is the fabric of the airways and popular news, where every other song overheard is about falling in love, falling out of love, never finding love or unrequited love, how could he, an alien, a Vulcan express in the words, ‘I love you’ the same meaning a human would? Indeed, there was no logical reason for him to do so. He also found the idea of doing so intensely uncomfortable. Yet, while he and Nyota were compatible and she knew from their melds that he held her in high regard, as a non-telepath, as a human, she had grown up in a culture where expressing ‘love’ was expected. Expressing it once, he'd observed, did not suffice. Humans sought reassurance on a regular basis that they were loved. He found this illogical but humans were illogical.
Indeed, how could Spock guarantee that in between leaving his mouth and being received by her brain, the words intended by him to mean loyalty, to express care, sexual desire and a life long bond, might not somehow change to mean something else? While this was true of all communication, how much more likely between two alien cultures.
7.
Spock met Uhura in a restaurant on the far side of San Francisco where they were sure no one would see them. It was what humans would call ‘romantic’; candles (which Spock thought were dangerous and gave a 10% chance of the evening ending in flight from a conflagration), checked table clothes and Italian food. He knew, from his research, it had a high vegetarian choice, but he was apprehensive about the quantity of garlic used in the dishes.
Nevertheless, he thought, as he pulled out Nyota’s chair - another custom he’d learned was easier to adopt than question - if he could control his emotions, controlling his reaction to rebellious taste buds would hardly be a challenge.
8.
They ate in silence. A unique aspect of their relationship was that Nyota, forever surrounded by the Babel of many tongues and languages, often preferred silence and simple communication through touch. He had, with her permission, entered her mind many times so he often knew what she wanted to say and there was no need.
He knew she loved him, he’d seen it in her thoughts. And so she knew he loved her.
But he’d never said it.
11.
“This time last year I didn’t even know you.” She was smiling; her dark eyes glowed in the candle light, her chocolate skin shone in the warm light. She’d had two glasses of wine and Spock observed with a raised eyebrow that it was as if some of the bones in her spine had been removed.
“I am pleased I know you, Nyota.”
His voice was even but he hoped she understood the depth of that statement. He was reminded of how inadequate mere words were for humans. Adequate certainly for explaining processes and carrying information, but for bearing the import of compatibility, sexual desire - words failed time and time again. Humans resorted to action, sex, violence to express how they felt.
“I’m pleased you’re pleased.” She said. “Spock, I -“
"Yes?” He un-steepled his hands and leaned across to take hers, the one not gripping the wine glass stem. “Do you desire more wine?”
“For a communications expert, I’m finding it hard to express myself… I want to say…” a little giggle.
“That you…” he drew a heart in the air between them, his face he knew would be impassive but he detected a rise in his heart-rate. “…me.” He finished.
The 'picture' served to communicate how he felt more efficiently than a word. It showed the organ that romantic humans believed the feeling of love originated from. He on the other hand, knew it came from the primal need of all living beings to mate and reproduce, and while logic and science had their appeal, Spock understood his human side well enough not to mention that here and ruin the moment of closeness.
“Yes, Spock. That’s what I-“and their fingertips touched, enough for them to close their eyes and Spock knew that Uhura had remembered that words weren’t necessary.
Part 11
What Do You See in Her/Him?
Or
If You Are Dying of Thirst You'll See an Oasis
March 2256
1.
Sulu was a year ahead of Kirk officially but in the same year of study since the object of his affection was being fast-tracked.
He received comms from his brother on a regular basis.
I haven’t heard from you in a while, Hik. Some woman keeping you busy? ; D
No. I still don't like women. And it’s none of your business.
I’m your brother.
Sulu waited for the inevitable question.
What’s he like?
I said, none of your business…. You going to Auntie’s on Sunday?
Try and stop me! And don’t think I’m letting you get away with this, k?
2.
So, what was he like? What did he see in Kirk?
He cast his mind back to the evening before when he’d stood next to Kirk at the bar. They had progressed to nodding terms which, on Kirk’s part, also often included a genuine and brilliant smile.
He’d watched Kirk out of the corner of his eye. He loved the way he stood at the bar, up on his toes to attract the bartender’s attention. He took an erotic delight in watching him slide his credit chip towards the barman for payment.
What did he like about James Kirk?
Everything.
3.
Sulu fancied himself as a bit of philosopher. He thought about beauty a great deal and he thought about it broadly.
It would have been so easy to find beauty in Jim’s eyes, his black rimmed blue eyes, in his pale lips which he couldn’t seem to stop licking as if he was taunting those who couldn’t but, how much more testing and satisfying to find beauty in those things that others might not have spotted: the way he crossed his legs when he sat at a table opposite McCoy; the way his sleeve fell open at the wrist to reveal the perfect combination of veins disappearing out of sight; the intonation of his laugh...
4.
Sulu saw the beauty in his plants, of course, but in all of them, not just the showy ones, and he took pleasure in nurturing the plainer specimens with as much love and care as any beauty.
5.
Sulu also appreciated that he saw the beauty in activity. Part of the appeal of fencing was the range and speed of movement, balletic, masculine and feminine at once. His second greatest desire was that one day he could teach Kirk how to fence.
6.
Sulu knew that his ability to enjoy beauty in so many different ways was borne of love. He doubted that someone who didn’t love plants would notice the beauty in a plumorisinia’s tentacle. In the same way, only someone who loved Jim could find the faint scars on his face from teenage acne utterly gorgeous.
7.
Sometimes, when Sulu felt himself blush as Kirk approached, he wondered if his fascination with this incredible man might be a bit odd.
What if his interest had slipped from love to obsession, from fact to fantasy?
Something told him that the test of this would be, was he prepared to tell anyone else what he liked about Kirk?
8.
For Sulu, love was something that he would have to do on his own. He knew it was pointless telling his brother what it was that he saw in Kirk. His brother hadn’t asked him what Kirk was like, but what he liked about him. It was his subjective viewpoint that he was after. And he wasn’t going to get it.
9.
Sulu watched Kirk nursing his beer, reading his PADD, and he wondered if indeed he was suffering from madness. Perhaps it wasn’t ‘Kirk the man’ he loved, but merely the idea of him that he saw clustered around his shirtsleeves and heard in his laugh. Perhaps those lips were not the most perfect lips after all. He just wanted to believe that they were.
This ordinary man, sitting at a bar table, stylus in hand, wasn’t writing creative poetry; he simply bore the face of a poet while learning basic Klingon.
Walking through a barren desert, so in need of love, so thirsty for it, Sulu, a man who truly was driven by love in all the things he did, had needed a drink so badly that he'd created an oasis called James Kirk.
Part 12
Skeptism and Faith
Or
Don’t Burst the Bubble
March 2256
1.
McCoy was a doctor, not a pilgrim. He believed in what he could see, measure, test and prove. He thought about this one morning when he woke up with a brazen erection, fully dressed on his bed next to James T Kirk. There was an imaginary force-field between them and his back ached from the effort of not bumping into Jim all night.
2.
But of late, he had also become a philosopher. He thought about the difference between appearance and reality. I think I see Jim lying on my bed. He said to himself. He could be an optical illusion. He tried again, and breathed deeply to stop himself laughing at where his mind was going - I could have an erection. It could be an optical illusion. Of course it was ridiculous, it was easy to doubt the existence of something like a table, a chair, a man in your bed, a torpedo in your pants.
3.
It wasn’t so easy to doubt the existence of his love.
4.
If he began to doubt, to test and to look for evidence here, where would he be then?
You had to believe to be in love. To have faith.
“Jim?” he whispered.
No answer.
Bones eased his pants open, taking care not to rock the bed too much in case he woke Kirk up.
I think I see Jim lying on my bed. He said in his head. He straightened his cock out, keeping it concealed by his shirt. He’d have to be careful, just roll the end around between his fingers and thumb, didn’t need to jerk off completely. He could do that later in the bathroom. For now, he just wanted to indulge his belief in love. For the moment it didn’t matter whether Jim was really there or not.
What mattered was how he felt.
5.
Thing is, he couldn’t understand how he’d come to feel like this so soon, so hard and so inconveniently, dammit. He looked at Jim and squeezed the end of his cock and felt a bit creepy at the same time and with some difficulty tucked himself back into his pants. It was hormones, chemistry, chemicals…he needed to break this down, measure it, test it, understand it.
6.
It made no sense, yet he was in love. McCoy didn’t doubt it, he just didn’t understand it. The way he felt was as real as the man lying on his bed now snoring, making his heart ache and his cock taunt him.
Part 13
Intimacy
Or
You Could Have Your Own Drawer
March 2256
1.
“You’ve got so much of your shit lying around here; you might as well move in, Jim.”
“No thanks.”
“But if you’re here all the time, why not…?“ Shit, did he really very nearly say make it official? McCoy didn’t manage to finish the question.
“I like living alone.”
“How you gonna cope in a tin can, in space surrounded by hundreds of crew members, you moron?”
Kirk opened his eyes wide and scooted his stool closer to McCoy.
“By keeping my own room.”
2.
That night, McCoy made a mental list of Jim’s possessions scattered around his room, noting each new item with a finger on his hand.
a) one of Jim’s PADDS under the bed (left thumb)
b) Jim’s toothbrush in the bathroom (left index finger)
c) Half a dozen movies and a shitload of music which Jim owned but had somehow found their way into his PADD. Did hacking in count as someone leaving their stuff lying around?
d) Jim’s t-shirt under his pillow - maybe that didn’t really count because he’d stolen that and put it there himself. Still there were at least a dozen items regularly came back from his laundry that were Jim’s. And he was counting pairs of socks as one damned item.
His comm. beeped.
McCoy, is Jim there? From Pike.
No he fucking isn’t. Am I his keeper? I’ll tell him you were looking for him.
He deleted the parts of the message that would have had him court-martialed and hit send. No he isn’t. I’ll tell him you were looking for him.
Surely that counted as item e) on his list? Jim left his presence around too. People expected him to be in McCoy’s room when he wasn’t alone in his own.
f) There was Jim’s comm in McCoy’s jeans on the chair! Jim had handed it to him the night before for safe keeping. It was bleeping like a mutha with missed messages and calls. McCoy turned it off. Serve him right for not agreeing to move in and make life easier for everyone concerned. (Right thumb).
3.
McCoy's intimate knowledge about Kirk also extended to the contents of his backpack. He knew by now that if Kirk had it with him, it would mean he was planning to spend the night.
He couldn't help peeking at what was inside when Jim had left it open on the bed once: that looked like a spare t shirt; some socks; he couldn’t be certain, but he was sure Kirk wouldn’t stress about whether or not he’d packed underpants since he was pretty laissez faire about the whole underwear thing.
He noticed that Jim always had the watermelon-flavored lip salve McCoy had bought him on account of his frequently chapped lips. McCoy had slipped it into his bag when Jim was in the shower one morning. Jim would slick his lips just before he slung the back pack over his shoulder and left for his classes. They never mentioned it but it was a little act of intimacy that…well, just developed from their close friendship. How could they talk of it? This wasn't standard medical supplies; the presence of the lip balm was evidence of McCoy at some point standing in a store, deliberating, thinking about what Jim would like and then buying the stuff.
4.
Habits began to seep into each other’s behavior too.
• Kirk now drank Kentucky Whiskey first choice.
• McCoy’s diet had become less healthy - meat and potatoes being his friend’s preferred food if left to his own devices.
• McCoy sometimes went commando - it was his little secret.
• Kirk had taken to saying 'dammit' and 'I’ll whoop your ass'.
• McCoy had taken to smiling more.
McCoy wondered, sardonically, if Kirk had adopted his doctor friend’s new habit of jerking off every chance he got.
5.
Intimacy brought information, detail and lack of self-consciousness:
• Kirk wondered around naked, it seemed, all the time.
• McCoy learned his friend was circumcised.
• He learned that Kirk loved to floss.
• He also always took his PADD to the bathroom with him in the morning as well as a cup of coffee.
He knew what Kirk looked like before he sneezed, the exact angle at which he threw his head back when he laughed, how he ate all his meat, then his vegetables separately, how he smelled when he came out of the shower, how he cleaned his nails meticulously with a brush. How kind he was to new cadets.
6.
McCoy tried to put himself in his friend’s shoes and imagine what Kirk might have found out about him. He’d certainly told him all about his break up with Jocelyn. He knew about Joanna. No other cadet or doctor he worked with knew any of that. This was more of an 'exposure' and required more trust than Kirk wiping his ass in front of him.
7.
Their first act of intimacy had been for Kirk to rename McCoy and for McCoy to allow it.
Sometimes McCoy would call him Captain, but this was teasing, not a pet name. He had yet to find a term of endearment that fitted, and McCoy realized that intimacy was a two way street.
8.
Intimacy gives license to ungracious, gossipy, spiteful talk. About others. About those who are not in your gang of two.
So McCoy could vent about who he hated at the hospital, and who got on his fucking nerves, and who he wished he could stick which medical implement up.
In his turn, Kirk, who McCoy was the first to admit didn’t have a spiteful bone in his body, grumbled about professors, Uhura turning him down, the Kobayashi Ma and the pointlessness of the tests he had to endure.
9.
They were bonded by the many experiences that they’d had together, the memories that they shared with each other.
Such as the night they came back from a bar and found one of the cadets had been mugged for his comm in San Francisco. Kirk had called security, McCoy had patched him up. Kirk was the one who put his arm round him and walked him back to his room so the guy could sleep easy.
There was the time they found the stray dog on the beach and Kirk had rolled around in the sand with it, throwing sticks while Bones stretched out and watched, his heart thick with feeling for this incredible creature, the object of his love.
These incidents cemented their friendship and McCoy wondered what other memories and experiences they would share if they ever made it to the same Starship.
10.
And they developed some language, some words of their own, ways of suggesting shall we go for a drink, apologizing, for Kirk to tell McCoy he needed to leave the bar with someone and he should make his own way home tonight. Shared, private and unique to their relationship.
Whatever that relationship was, he hadn't quite found a word that adequately defined it.
11.
“Jim, do you like fishing?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Why do you ask?” Jim said, searching under McCoy’s bed for his sneakers.
“Dunno, I thought maybe we could go home for Spring break. Do some fishin’…”
“You could teach me!” Jim was all wide eyed and innocent.
McCoy fought the impulse to somersault onto the bed. “Idiot,” he growled, “I’ll book somewhere. If I leave to you it’ll never happen.”
Or if he left it entirely to fate.
click here for parts 14-18