FML: the Admirals' take (Pike/Boyce, Kirk/McCoy, R)
Title: FML: the Admirals' take
Companion to: FML but can be read as a stand-alone.
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Pike/Boyce, Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Word Count: Around 2350
Prompt: Written for megan_moonlight who wanted the Admirals' POV. And inspired by various of the lovely comments the first fic received.
Summary: So what do bored Admirals get up to in meetings?
Author's note: For those who don't play in this obscure corner of fandom, AOS Phil Boyce is fancast as Mark Harmon. Tasty pix here.
And the idea of calling Chris Chrissie is taken from anruiukimi's gorgeous Western Skies series. (Jim wing fic, Kirk/McCoy, with Pike/Archer UST. Just lovely.)
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[[At least pretend to look interested! :) ]]
Phil sends the text surreptitiously under table. Chris glances down at his lap, then rolls his eyes at Phil, who is seated across from him.
[[If I’d known being an Admiral would be this boring, I’d have damned well stayed with Nero!!!]]
“Don’t say that!” Phil mouths at him across the table. He types rapidly: [[Don’t say it, don’t think it. You fucking bastard!]]
Chris read quickly and then looks back up, giving Phil a small shrug. Phil looks away, trying not to remember his first viewing of the awful slug that Dr McCoy had dug out of Chris’s spinal cord and then preserved for further study. That slug haunts his nightmares. The contents of Chris’s nightmares are more than he can bear to imagine.
A new text arrives. [[Sorry. I’m all over the place, you know that. You’ve no idea how glad I am that you’re here. Just how long can these fuckers ramble on for?]]
Phil glances up to where the ambassador from Andoria is barely getting into her stride. Yet another round of the ambassadors of the Federation planets berating Starfleet for not foreseeing the disaster. Yet another round of them demanding action to stabilize the political situation while simultaneously demanding that Starfleet stay out of it. He knows that much of this is simply the verbalizing of stress and fear but it doesn’t make it any more pleasant to sit through.
Another text arrives. [[Sugar, this is bad! Distract me before I fall asleep.]]
Phil stares at it. Chris never calls him sugar. They’ve known each other for nearly 30 years and been fuck-buddies for nearly as long. Nothing serious - neither their careers nor their temperaments have allowed for that. But when one was getting over the end of a love affair, whether they’d left or been left, they went looking for the other. When one was tired or stressed or fearful, the one person they trusted with their secrets was the other.
When the news of the destruction of Vulcan had come through to Starfleet, Chris’s was the name that was screaming in the back of Phil’s head as he prepared the emergency medical response, a response that largely went unneeded because they were all dead already. When he’d finally got onto the Enterprise to collect the injured, it had been Chris’s bed he'd gone straight to, despite the presence of the high-ranking Vulcans. When he couldn’t bear to think of all the vaporized corpses, it had been Chris’s mobility he’d fought to save, determined that one thing would be rescued from this cluster-fuck.
A quick look tells him that the text comes from Dr Leonard H. McCoy (Lieutenant-Commander). It must be misdirected. He hesitates no more than a moment before typing back: [[What kind of distraction do you have in mind?]] He sends a blind copy on to Chris.
Chris is waggling his eyebrows at him across the table when the next text comes in. [[Talk dirty to me, darling. I’m losing the will to live here. Tell me what you want to do to me.]]
Phil is choking as he tries to suppress his laughter. [[Tell me!!!]] comes from Chris, as Phil quickly types a reply. His response to the question needs no thought. McCoy may be brilliant, and hard-working, but he can also argue with a fence post, and be damn insolent in the process. A fair number of the headaches of his first years as Surgeon-General were caused by one Cadet L.H. McCoy.
[[Mostly I want to put you over my knee and spank you.]] Again he copies it blind to Chris.
Chris is visibly biting down on the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. [[He’s not seriously sending these to you, is he? You dirty dog! Since when are you doing cadets?]]
[[I’m sure he’s got the wrong comm number. I assume (hope!) these are meant for Jim.]] Leonard and Jim’s affair is the kind of secret where the only people who still think it a secret are the two men themselves. Both Chris and Phil had noticed the number of times that the acting captain had disappeared into the office of the acting CMO in need of ‘medical treatment’ that seemed to consist of a whole lot of kissing and frotting. No one had been about to object. Both men were superb under pressure and everyone did what it took to survive.
The next text comes in from McCoy. [[Seriously? I can be persuaded. Tell me more.]]
Kinky little shit, thinks Phil with a smile. Another quick reply: [[I’d bend you over my knee, pull down those tight cadet reds over your ample ass and apply my hand to your tight cheeks until they’re as rosy as a peach.]]
As soon as Chris receives the two new texts, he goes into a prolonged coughing fit that ends up with him being hammered on the back by Admiral Komack. He has barely recovered by the time the next set of texts sets him off again.
[[Oh god Jim… and then?]]
[[I’ve always thought you needed a good reaming out. So next would be three slick fingers shoved straight into your aching ass. But we’d need to find a way to plug up that pouty mouth of yours, you talk back way too much.]]
Phil has to take a moment to surreptitiously wipe away the tears of laughter from his own eyes. In all honesty, he’s doing this as much to cheer up Chris as to tease McCoy. Chris is coping remarkably well with his physical injuries and the loss of the Enterprise. So well, in fact, that Phil is reasonably sure the whole thing is a façade that may come tumbling down at any moment.
“Perhaps we should take a coffee break,” says Komack. “Admiral Pike seems to need a minute.” Everyone else at the table is up on their feet with a collective sigh of relief before the Andorian ambassador has even offered a reply. Normally Chris hates having his weakness pointed out in any way but right now he too is glad of an excuse to get out of the conference room.
Chris leans heavily on a crutch with one hand, while pulling Phil into a quiet corridor with the other. “You’re going to kill me, here. Since when are you such a rule-breaker?” Phil shrugs. He’s lost so many friends and colleagues in the Battle of Vulcan. He’s going to do whatever it takes to improve the lives of those who remain.
“So what shall we tell him?” He shows Chris McCoy’s latest reply: [[Oh yeah? And how are you planning to do that?]]
“How are we planning to shut him up, you mean?” says Chris. He gives Phil the slow, sinful smile that always sends the blood spiraling down to Phil’s groin, the smile that promises delicious wickedness in Phil’s immediate future. “We’ll just have to share him, won’t we?”
Phil holds Chris’s gaze as he types by touch alone. It’s a dare from Chris but he’s not going to back down. Before the advent of the Narada both of them would have been much more circumspect than this, thinking of their careers and reputations. Now all Phil can think of is that Chris is still alive to flirt with him. He holds up the screen to show Chris his answer.
[[Another man’s cock would do the trick. I’d like to see you plugged up solid at both ends.]]
Chris pulls him close, a broad hand wrapped firmly around his neck, and whispers hotly in his ear: “Fucking tease, you’ve got to know who I’d really like to plug solid.”
They look down when the reply arrives.
[[How long have you wanted to do that?]]
Phil types in the answer as he watches Chris. [[Pretty much from the first time I met you and you opened that insubordinate mouth of yours.]] He means it about McCoy but the answer is really for Chris, who he’d first met as a cocky cadet, too beautiful for his own good, blinding in his brilliance, but still self-aware enough to laugh at his own ambition.
[[This captain thing going to your head, is it? You figure now you’re my CO you can do what you want with me?]]
Phil grins. Again his answer is really for Chris. [[That is one of the advantages of the chain of command.]] They’d had some fun when Boyce was first promoted to Admiral and Chris was still a captain, including memorably fucking Chris across his new office desk while in full dress uniform. Chris is again choking with laughter and it lightens Phil’s heart to see it.
It takes some time for McCoy’s next message to arrive, but the two men don’t notice, too caught up in a sensual exploration of each other’s mouths. As younger men, they’d done a lot of fast athletic fucking but since the Narada Phil wants to take it slower, wants to enjoy the chance to indulge in languid exploration. At first Chris had resisted, afraid Phil was treating him like glass because of his injuries. But Phil thinks he’s beginning to understand now; he’s allowing himself to ground his fears in Phil’s solid steady presence.
At last another message arrives. [[OK, so I’ve just realized that you’re not Jim and this was probably highly inappropriate and I’M REALLY SORRY. Who are you?]]
“Tell him it’s Admiral Komack,” offers Chris.
“No, you bastard. Kirk wouldn’t give a shit but McCoy’s the type to be in agonies of embarrassment over this.” Phil types quickly. [[Damn, you rumbled it. You’ve been keeping Chris and I amused through the world’s most boring Federation briefing meeting. It’s been fun.]] He hesitates and then, just to see Chris’s beautiful blue eyes crinkle with laughter once more, he adds: [[Shall I let Jim know you’re up for the spanking thing? Phil.]]
“Gentlemen, perhaps you’d care to return to the meeting?” Komack is standing at the corner of the corridor, carefully not noticing that they are standing far too close together and Chris’s uniform jacket is still rucked up from where Phil grabbed it while kissing him. When the primmest stuffed shirt in the Admiralty can’t bring himself to lecture them about behavior unbefitting to Admirals, you know the world has changed for good, thinks Phil.
* * *
“God, Chrissie, you are just the best!” Phil runs his hand gently through Chris’s thick grey hair, conveniently close to hand as the man is lying with his head on Phil’s chest. Both of them are limp and relaxed in the aftermath of great sex.
Chris wrinkles his nose at this. He has always hated being called Chrissie. Once Phil worked this out, he had regularly used the name whenever he was really annoyed with the other man. Over the thirty years of their acquaintance he has been annoyed fairly often. But now the meaning has shifted. It changed one night soon after Chris was brought back to Earth, when Phil woke him from shaking nightmares, giving up his Admiral’s dignity to climb onto Chris’s narrow biobed and pull the trembling man against his own chest.
Chris had told him then a little of what had happened on the Narada. “He showed me the footage of Vulcan being destroyed but it was just unreal,” Chris had said. Phil had known what he meant. He’s seen the footage countless times now and although he understands intellectually what happened, emotionally it still feels little different from watching an over-dramatic holovid.
“He told me he was about to do that to Earth and this time I was going to get to watch it live. Even that I couldn’t comprehend. All I could think was that he was going to destroy you, you and everyone you loved. I was telling a god I don’t believe in that if I could just see you one more time you could call me Chrissie whenever and wherever you liked. Of all the stupid, stupid things to promise…” Phil had held him silently while he shook with suppressed tears. Since then, every time he says Chrissie, they both know what it means. It is a prayer of gratitude, every single time.
They are slipping into sleep when Phil’s comm chimes. “If that is another emergency meeting, I’m resigning on the spot,” growls Phil. It is Chris who leans over and opens up the unit. He snorts with laughter. “Listen to this,” he says. “U guys up 4 a 4some? Im available 4 plugging, Jim 2 direct. It’s from McCoy.”
“No, it’s not,” says Phil. “He doesn’t talk like that. That’s from Kirk.”
“He wants to direct?” exclaims Chris. “He’s been a captain for five whole minutes and he thinks he can run the universe. When has he ever actually been in control?”
“He’s delusional if he thinks he'd be in charge,” says Phil “We’d own the scenario with our decades of experience.” He is caught by the animation on Chris’s face. Too often these days Chris just looks bone-tired and depressed.
“Cocky little shit could do with being taught a lesson. He took my ship, the bastard,” says Chris.
“You know you and I fought like devils to get him that ship, with McCoy as his CMO,” protests Phil.
“So? He still took my ship. And I’ve a thing or two to say to McCoy about smuggling grounded cadets onto my vessel!”
Phil reaches over and takes the unit from Chris. “So are we going to say yes?” The two men look at each other. Before the world changed forever they’d not have done this. They’d have played it safe, kept on eye on their future careers. But this new world is not safe and there are no guarantees.
Still watching Chris, Phil types: [[Tomorrow. My place. 2100. Be clean. Be sober. Boyce.]] He hits send.
“Do you think they’ll actually turn up?” says Chris.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”
- THE END -
So what is the protocol for an orgy with your commanding officers? Continued here...
Companion to: FML but can be read as a stand-alone.
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Pike/Boyce, Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Word Count: Around 2350
Prompt: Written for megan_moonlight who wanted the Admirals' POV. And inspired by various of the lovely comments the first fic received.
Summary: So what do bored Admirals get up to in meetings?
Author's note: For those who don't play in this obscure corner of fandom, AOS Phil Boyce is fancast as Mark Harmon. Tasty pix here.
And the idea of calling Chris Chrissie is taken from anruiukimi's gorgeous Western Skies series. (Jim wing fic, Kirk/McCoy, with Pike/Archer UST. Just lovely.)
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[[At least pretend to look interested! :) ]]
Phil sends the text surreptitiously under table. Chris glances down at his lap, then rolls his eyes at Phil, who is seated across from him.
[[If I’d known being an Admiral would be this boring, I’d have damned well stayed with Nero!!!]]
“Don’t say that!” Phil mouths at him across the table. He types rapidly: [[Don’t say it, don’t think it. You fucking bastard!]]
Chris read quickly and then looks back up, giving Phil a small shrug. Phil looks away, trying not to remember his first viewing of the awful slug that Dr McCoy had dug out of Chris’s spinal cord and then preserved for further study. That slug haunts his nightmares. The contents of Chris’s nightmares are more than he can bear to imagine.
A new text arrives. [[Sorry. I’m all over the place, you know that. You’ve no idea how glad I am that you’re here. Just how long can these fuckers ramble on for?]]
Phil glances up to where the ambassador from Andoria is barely getting into her stride. Yet another round of the ambassadors of the Federation planets berating Starfleet for not foreseeing the disaster. Yet another round of them demanding action to stabilize the political situation while simultaneously demanding that Starfleet stay out of it. He knows that much of this is simply the verbalizing of stress and fear but it doesn’t make it any more pleasant to sit through.
Another text arrives. [[Sugar, this is bad! Distract me before I fall asleep.]]
Phil stares at it. Chris never calls him sugar. They’ve known each other for nearly 30 years and been fuck-buddies for nearly as long. Nothing serious - neither their careers nor their temperaments have allowed for that. But when one was getting over the end of a love affair, whether they’d left or been left, they went looking for the other. When one was tired or stressed or fearful, the one person they trusted with their secrets was the other.
When the news of the destruction of Vulcan had come through to Starfleet, Chris’s was the name that was screaming in the back of Phil’s head as he prepared the emergency medical response, a response that largely went unneeded because they were all dead already. When he’d finally got onto the Enterprise to collect the injured, it had been Chris’s bed he'd gone straight to, despite the presence of the high-ranking Vulcans. When he couldn’t bear to think of all the vaporized corpses, it had been Chris’s mobility he’d fought to save, determined that one thing would be rescued from this cluster-fuck.
A quick look tells him that the text comes from Dr Leonard H. McCoy (Lieutenant-Commander). It must be misdirected. He hesitates no more than a moment before typing back: [[What kind of distraction do you have in mind?]] He sends a blind copy on to Chris.
Chris is waggling his eyebrows at him across the table when the next text comes in. [[Talk dirty to me, darling. I’m losing the will to live here. Tell me what you want to do to me.]]
Phil is choking as he tries to suppress his laughter. [[Tell me!!!]] comes from Chris, as Phil quickly types a reply. His response to the question needs no thought. McCoy may be brilliant, and hard-working, but he can also argue with a fence post, and be damn insolent in the process. A fair number of the headaches of his first years as Surgeon-General were caused by one Cadet L.H. McCoy.
[[Mostly I want to put you over my knee and spank you.]] Again he copies it blind to Chris.
Chris is visibly biting down on the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. [[He’s not seriously sending these to you, is he? You dirty dog! Since when are you doing cadets?]]
[[I’m sure he’s got the wrong comm number. I assume (hope!) these are meant for Jim.]] Leonard and Jim’s affair is the kind of secret where the only people who still think it a secret are the two men themselves. Both Chris and Phil had noticed the number of times that the acting captain had disappeared into the office of the acting CMO in need of ‘medical treatment’ that seemed to consist of a whole lot of kissing and frotting. No one had been about to object. Both men were superb under pressure and everyone did what it took to survive.
The next text comes in from McCoy. [[Seriously? I can be persuaded. Tell me more.]]
Kinky little shit, thinks Phil with a smile. Another quick reply: [[I’d bend you over my knee, pull down those tight cadet reds over your ample ass and apply my hand to your tight cheeks until they’re as rosy as a peach.]]
As soon as Chris receives the two new texts, he goes into a prolonged coughing fit that ends up with him being hammered on the back by Admiral Komack. He has barely recovered by the time the next set of texts sets him off again.
[[Oh god Jim… and then?]]
[[I’ve always thought you needed a good reaming out. So next would be three slick fingers shoved straight into your aching ass. But we’d need to find a way to plug up that pouty mouth of yours, you talk back way too much.]]
Phil has to take a moment to surreptitiously wipe away the tears of laughter from his own eyes. In all honesty, he’s doing this as much to cheer up Chris as to tease McCoy. Chris is coping remarkably well with his physical injuries and the loss of the Enterprise. So well, in fact, that Phil is reasonably sure the whole thing is a façade that may come tumbling down at any moment.
“Perhaps we should take a coffee break,” says Komack. “Admiral Pike seems to need a minute.” Everyone else at the table is up on their feet with a collective sigh of relief before the Andorian ambassador has even offered a reply. Normally Chris hates having his weakness pointed out in any way but right now he too is glad of an excuse to get out of the conference room.
Chris leans heavily on a crutch with one hand, while pulling Phil into a quiet corridor with the other. “You’re going to kill me, here. Since when are you such a rule-breaker?” Phil shrugs. He’s lost so many friends and colleagues in the Battle of Vulcan. He’s going to do whatever it takes to improve the lives of those who remain.
“So what shall we tell him?” He shows Chris McCoy’s latest reply: [[Oh yeah? And how are you planning to do that?]]
“How are we planning to shut him up, you mean?” says Chris. He gives Phil the slow, sinful smile that always sends the blood spiraling down to Phil’s groin, the smile that promises delicious wickedness in Phil’s immediate future. “We’ll just have to share him, won’t we?”
Phil holds Chris’s gaze as he types by touch alone. It’s a dare from Chris but he’s not going to back down. Before the advent of the Narada both of them would have been much more circumspect than this, thinking of their careers and reputations. Now all Phil can think of is that Chris is still alive to flirt with him. He holds up the screen to show Chris his answer.
[[Another man’s cock would do the trick. I’d like to see you plugged up solid at both ends.]]
Chris pulls him close, a broad hand wrapped firmly around his neck, and whispers hotly in his ear: “Fucking tease, you’ve got to know who I’d really like to plug solid.”
They look down when the reply arrives.
[[How long have you wanted to do that?]]
Phil types in the answer as he watches Chris. [[Pretty much from the first time I met you and you opened that insubordinate mouth of yours.]] He means it about McCoy but the answer is really for Chris, who he’d first met as a cocky cadet, too beautiful for his own good, blinding in his brilliance, but still self-aware enough to laugh at his own ambition.
[[This captain thing going to your head, is it? You figure now you’re my CO you can do what you want with me?]]
Phil grins. Again his answer is really for Chris. [[That is one of the advantages of the chain of command.]] They’d had some fun when Boyce was first promoted to Admiral and Chris was still a captain, including memorably fucking Chris across his new office desk while in full dress uniform. Chris is again choking with laughter and it lightens Phil’s heart to see it.
It takes some time for McCoy’s next message to arrive, but the two men don’t notice, too caught up in a sensual exploration of each other’s mouths. As younger men, they’d done a lot of fast athletic fucking but since the Narada Phil wants to take it slower, wants to enjoy the chance to indulge in languid exploration. At first Chris had resisted, afraid Phil was treating him like glass because of his injuries. But Phil thinks he’s beginning to understand now; he’s allowing himself to ground his fears in Phil’s solid steady presence.
At last another message arrives. [[OK, so I’ve just realized that you’re not Jim and this was probably highly inappropriate and I’M REALLY SORRY. Who are you?]]
“Tell him it’s Admiral Komack,” offers Chris.
“No, you bastard. Kirk wouldn’t give a shit but McCoy’s the type to be in agonies of embarrassment over this.” Phil types quickly. [[Damn, you rumbled it. You’ve been keeping Chris and I amused through the world’s most boring Federation briefing meeting. It’s been fun.]] He hesitates and then, just to see Chris’s beautiful blue eyes crinkle with laughter once more, he adds: [[Shall I let Jim know you’re up for the spanking thing? Phil.]]
“Gentlemen, perhaps you’d care to return to the meeting?” Komack is standing at the corner of the corridor, carefully not noticing that they are standing far too close together and Chris’s uniform jacket is still rucked up from where Phil grabbed it while kissing him. When the primmest stuffed shirt in the Admiralty can’t bring himself to lecture them about behavior unbefitting to Admirals, you know the world has changed for good, thinks Phil.
* * *
“God, Chrissie, you are just the best!” Phil runs his hand gently through Chris’s thick grey hair, conveniently close to hand as the man is lying with his head on Phil’s chest. Both of them are limp and relaxed in the aftermath of great sex.
Chris wrinkles his nose at this. He has always hated being called Chrissie. Once Phil worked this out, he had regularly used the name whenever he was really annoyed with the other man. Over the thirty years of their acquaintance he has been annoyed fairly often. But now the meaning has shifted. It changed one night soon after Chris was brought back to Earth, when Phil woke him from shaking nightmares, giving up his Admiral’s dignity to climb onto Chris’s narrow biobed and pull the trembling man against his own chest.
Chris had told him then a little of what had happened on the Narada. “He showed me the footage of Vulcan being destroyed but it was just unreal,” Chris had said. Phil had known what he meant. He’s seen the footage countless times now and although he understands intellectually what happened, emotionally it still feels little different from watching an over-dramatic holovid.
“He told me he was about to do that to Earth and this time I was going to get to watch it live. Even that I couldn’t comprehend. All I could think was that he was going to destroy you, you and everyone you loved. I was telling a god I don’t believe in that if I could just see you one more time you could call me Chrissie whenever and wherever you liked. Of all the stupid, stupid things to promise…” Phil had held him silently while he shook with suppressed tears. Since then, every time he says Chrissie, they both know what it means. It is a prayer of gratitude, every single time.
They are slipping into sleep when Phil’s comm chimes. “If that is another emergency meeting, I’m resigning on the spot,” growls Phil. It is Chris who leans over and opens up the unit. He snorts with laughter. “Listen to this,” he says. “U guys up 4 a 4some? Im available 4 plugging, Jim 2 direct. It’s from McCoy.”
“No, it’s not,” says Phil. “He doesn’t talk like that. That’s from Kirk.”
“He wants to direct?” exclaims Chris. “He’s been a captain for five whole minutes and he thinks he can run the universe. When has he ever actually been in control?”
“He’s delusional if he thinks he'd be in charge,” says Phil “We’d own the scenario with our decades of experience.” He is caught by the animation on Chris’s face. Too often these days Chris just looks bone-tired and depressed.
“Cocky little shit could do with being taught a lesson. He took my ship, the bastard,” says Chris.
“You know you and I fought like devils to get him that ship, with McCoy as his CMO,” protests Phil.
“So? He still took my ship. And I’ve a thing or two to say to McCoy about smuggling grounded cadets onto my vessel!”
Phil reaches over and takes the unit from Chris. “So are we going to say yes?” The two men look at each other. Before the world changed forever they’d not have done this. They’d have played it safe, kept on eye on their future careers. But this new world is not safe and there are no guarantees.
Still watching Chris, Phil types: [[Tomorrow. My place. 2100. Be clean. Be sober. Boyce.]] He hits send.
“Do you think they’ll actually turn up?” says Chris.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”
- THE END -
So what is the protocol for an orgy with your commanding officers? Continued here...