Fic: Even Angels Fall, Kirk/McCoy, NC-17
Title: Even Angels Fall
Author: caitri
Rating: NC-17 (Language, Sex)
Pairings: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 5,718
Summary: AU. A Christmas miracle for the boys, written for avictoriangirl, who made this gorgeous picture. An x-over of sorts with Supernatural (post-show). Or Judao-Christian mythology. However you want to roll. With apologies for its lateness and its abuse of angelic canon. With great thanks to gadgetorious for betaing, particularly for Castiel.
Disclaimer: I know this may come as a shock, but I am not, amazing as it may seem, Gene Roddenberry, J.J. Abrams, Paramount or Bad Robot. Just so you know.
In the beginning there was naught, and then there was light…and Earth and stars and life, and they all sang. From the notes then were created Those Who Are, those who watch, who protect and guard, who avenge and mete justice. Each to their nature stowed…
And one among them was called Mihael, and his station was Loyalty.
And he watched. For generations upon generations he watched. And then he Saw.
Even Angels Fall
2233
Winona is dizzy with grief and drugs. She looks at her new baby boy, Jim, and fresh tears come to her eyes. She hears a sound like the flutter of wings, and looks up. She sees nothing. Must’ve been her imagination…
~
Mihael frowns to himself. This isn’t the way it was supposed to go at all: The Kelvin was supposed to return to Earth in two weeks. Jim Kirk was going to be born in Riverside, Iowa in five. Winona Kirk was going to stay at home with her sons while George Kirk remained in Starfleet.
The balance has shifted. The order is lost.
2240
Jim had thought that climbing the tree back behind the house would be a good idea. He figured if he got to the top, he’d be able to see Mommy on her ship. Unfortunately, not only was he unable to see her all the way up here, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get down, either.
“Hi,” says a voice. Jim looks over. It’s another boy, one a few years older than him. He’s perched on a branch nearby.
“Hi,” Jim says. “Where did you come from?”
The boy shrugs. “I’ve always been here,” he says. “You just don’t always see me.”
“Like a chameleon?” Jim read about those recently; he thinks they’re great. If he was like a chameleon, then he could blend in whenever and Frank wouldn’t be able to find him when he was mad.
“Something like that,” the boy says after a short pause.
“Cool,” Jim says sincerely. He shifts, trying to gain better purchase; the branch under him bends a little. “What’s your name? Ah!”
The branch gives under his weight and he starts to plummet, but the other boy’s hand is suddenly clasping his, holding to him tightly. Jim’s dangling feet settle on another branch, this one thicker. It supports his weight easily.
“You okay?” The boy doesn’t sound worried though.
“Yeah.” Jim exhales as he looks down. On the plus side, he thinks, it’ll be easier to climb down from here. “Thanks. Hey, what’s your name?”
There’s no answer. No one’s there.
Not that he can see.
Chameleon, Jim thinks.
~
“Mihael, what do you think you’re doing?” Castiel looks confused, but not angry. Mihael supposes this is something, at least.
“He matters,” Mihael answers. “That’s-it, really.”
The other angel looks sympathetic. “They all matter,” he says carefully. “Just-be careful, okay? We all have our parts to play here.”
“I know.”
2245
Jim swears he can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he pushes the antique car to its limits. When he yells, it’s as much in heated joy as it is release from the pent-up anger. As he speeds closer to the cliff’s edge, for one wild second he has a thought: What would it be like to go over?
No!
That jolts him, because that angry negative in his head? Isn’t from him.
Startled, maybe a little freaked even, he pulls the car to the side but it’s got too much momentum. He leaps out, arms spread, feet together like a diver. Catches the edge of the rock, slips, holds on.
Climbs up and out. The roaring of his own blood deafens the crash below and makes the figure before him almost insubstantial.
Jim, says the figure, another boy who is dark and familiar. And the apparition is gone, and before him is someone else instead.
Jim licks his lips, still uncertain as to what it was he saw-what he heard--so clearly before.
“State your name, Citizen.”
It definitely wasn’t the filtered voice of the cop. He resists the urge to look around, because he knows no one else is nearby.
“My name is James Tiberius Kirk!”
He half expects to hear that other voice again, at least, but he doesn’t.
~
“Mihael?”
“The timeline-it’s wrong. I’m just fixing it.”
"He is important to you," says Castiel. It's a question, but it's not. "You value him, above all others. Why him?"
“Not-above all others.”
“Mihael.”
“I have nothing else to say, Castiel.”
“Right,” the angel says dryly. “Because you’re an angel, and none of us have ever shown that kind of preference before.”
Mihael doesn’t answer. He watches.
2246
Jim! Wake up!
“Wha--?” Jim is suddenly awake, blinking in the dark.
JIM! WAKE UP AND GO, NOW!
He’s already out of bed and moving, muzzy brain slowly catching up to the rest of him.
Not that way. The C.G. is out there. Go out the back.
He does as he’s bid, feeling ice along the line of his spine. He passes the sleeping forms of his aunt and his uncle and his cousin. He pauses, starts to go wake them.
JIM, NO! MOVE! THIS WAY!
He freezes and his feet move towards the voice, and he’s out the door when he hears the sharp, high-pitched reports of the phase-rifles.
Into the woods! Quickly!
Unmindful of the chilly ground, he slips into the thick vegetation, stumbling over a warm form. There’s a short cry, cut off as he presses his hand against another’s lips. In the dim light of the twin moons, he makes out the indistinct features of Kevin Riley. The younger boy’s eyes are wide and damp with horror, and all of a sudden, Jim knows what’s happening all over Tarsus IV.
I’m sorry, Jim. It’s not your fault. Remember that.
In the months to come, he hears that voice, now and again. It tells him where to find water, how to scavenge for the scarce edibles: the bark of certain trees, some native berries, the roots of certain plants.
He finds a few other survivors, and they band together. He doesn’t dare to ask them if they hear a helpful voice.
~
“Do you know why you do it, Mihael?” Castiel wants to know, again. They watch together, sometimes, and Castiel has never seen the other angel so fascinated with a mortal before.
Mihael shrugs. “I can’t-not,” he answers.
Castiel doesn’t press further, after that. God knows the things he’s done for all the wrong reasons, too.
2255
Jim sits on his bike, staring at the partially built ship out in the yards. She’ll be a beauty when she’s done, he can tell: all sleek lines and white surfaces. They remind him of pictures he’s seen of bleached whale bones. He read once that whales sang; a small part of him wonders if ships do, too.
What the song of this one would be like.
Go, Jim.
He hasn’t heard the voice in a very, very long time. But it’s never lead him wrong before.
He turns the bike, heading to the shipyards as dawn curves over the horizon.
~
“Mihael, be careful. You’re treading perilously close, here.”
“I know. But-it’s necessary.”
~
Jim is buckling in, frowning at the safety harnesses. He hasn’t worn one of these since coming back from Tarsus… He feels sick, suddenly, and he’s acutely aware of the waves of hostility radiating at him from the other cadets. For a split second he thinks this is a mistake, that it’s not too late, he can get out of here, out of this shuttle that’s too much like the other shuttle-
“I don’t need a doctor, dammit, I am a doctor-“
Jim freezes. He knows that voice.
He stares at its owner, eyes taking in the form while his ears half hear the argument.
“Sit down-“
“I suffer from aviophobia, it means fear of flying-“
“I said sit down or I’ll make you sit down!”
The man finally throws himself into a seat, right next to Jim, still grumbling. “I may throw up on ya,” he warns.
Jim’s fascination turns to irritation. “Well I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space.”
“Don’t pander to me, kid,” the man grumbles.
Jim forgets his temptation to run, is too focused on arguing with the man who says he’s got nothing left but his bones…
~
“You know this isn’t going to end anywhere good, right?”
A flash of irritation and a look that Castiel has long ago learned to recognize as "Shut up."
2258
Komack eyes Kirk’s requested crew manifest with interest: specifically, the senior bridge crew, most of whom are hardly senior at all.
“McCoy,” he reads aloud. He looks puzzled, hitting a series of commands on his PADD.
Jim shifts slightly. Somehow he hadn’t expected Bones to be the one crewman the Admiral would question. “He was acting CMO after Dr. Puri was killed,” he says defensively. “Pike had picked him as one of his senior medical officers.”
Komack shakes his head. “You must be mistaken. There’s no cadet enrolled with that name in the Fleet, let alone in Medical.”
“With apologies, sir,” Jim says carefully, albeit with a touch of impatience, “but that can’t be right. We took classes together, he got me onboard the Enterprise when we left Earth-“
Komack frowns, peering at the PADD before him once more. “I’m sorry cad-Captain,” he corrects himself, “but there’s no one here by that name.”
Jim gets up, starts to argue, then:
Let it go, Jim.
“Bones?” His friend is there, alright, and he’s so relieved he can barely stand it. “What’s going on, why-“
“I’m sorry, Jim.” Bones’s hazel eyes are regretful, and he solemnly touches Jim on the forehead, a strange gesture like a benediction.
“Is there a problem, Captain?” Komack stares at him.
Jim blinks. “Um-I-what?” He shakes his head. He has the odd sensation that he’s-forgotten-something. Something important. “Sorry, sir, I must’ve blanked out for a second, I guess.”
The Admiral looks sympathetic. “Too many late nights. It’s only gonna get worse, son.” He pushes the PADD over to him. “Your crew manifest looks rock solid to me. Particularly the doctor-M’Benga’s a good man.”
Jim nods. “Thank you, sir. I thought so, too.”
~
“There-your work is done, Mihael. He’s where he needs to be, now. More or less,” Castiel adds to himself.
“I know.”
If Castiel thinks the other angel sounds regretful, he doesn’t say anything.
Time passes, in the way it does to those who watch. And then, finally, Mihael asks for something, and Castiel can’t find it in his (metaphorical) heart to refuse…
2260
Jim shakes his head, laughing at his two friends. “Guys, I’m serious,” he says to Nyota and Spock. “It’s getting late, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to finish my drink and I’ll head home, too.”
“Jim!” Nyota rolls her eyes. “It’s Christmas Eve-“
“-For another four point six minutes, my love,” Spock tells his mate.
Jim hides a grin; Spock has had hot chocolate and it must have hit the Vulcan’s system harder than he thought if he’s using affectionate endearments like that-even though only Nyota and Jim would hear.
“-and we’re the only ones left here.” Nyota nods at the coffee shop that is closing around them. Her expression softens as her gaze returns to her mate, and Jim can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. It’s times like this when he wishes he had someone to share the holidays with. The last real personnel left hours ago, and it’s all automatons and replicators now. They’ve spent most of the day finishing up the reports and requisitions before Enterprise ships out again, and they may well be some of the only people still on Starfleet’s campus now. “You really want to start the holiday by yourself?”
“Lieutenant Uhura, I’m giving you an order.” Jim smirks at her. “Take your man home and have a good time. Now. I’ll see you in a week.”
Spock raises an eloquent eyebrow as Nyota makes a face. “To contradict a direct order from a superior officer would be most problematic under the circumstances,” he says gently. “Might I suggest we remove ourselves to our quarters and allow the Captain to his celebration, per his wishes?”
Nyota sighs. “Fine,” she says, subsiding. She kisses Jim on the cheek gently. “Merry Christmas, Jim.” She takes Spock’s hand.
The Vulcan nods at him formally. “We will see you later, my friend.”
“Yeah, you two kids have fun,” Jim says with a smile. When they are gone, he sits back into the comfortable chair, sipping the last of his Irish hot chocolate. Somewhere he can hear the chiming of church bells as the midnight hour strikes.
“Merry Christmas, Jim,” he tells himself.
“Whoa!” The cry is just outside the coffee shop.
Jim is on his feet and running outside to investigate without a thought. The bells continue distantly in the background, the sound hanging in the chilly evening air like a promise.
“Hey! Are you okay?” he calls out. There’s a man in a white suit, standing out in the dark, staring up at the sky. He looks slightly confused, and-Jim loses his train of thought as the man turns around and their eyes meet. “Hi.” His breath feels caught in his throat, because he knows this man, somehow, even though he’s never seen him before in his life-
All I got left is my bones… Something like a memory…. McCoy, Leonard McCoy.
“Hi,” the man says back. He smiles brightly, and Jim feels himself smiling back. “My name is Leonard.”
“Hi Leonard,” Jim says, his voice an exhalation. “My name is Jim.”
“Yeah,” Leonard says. “I know.”
~
Later Jim will think what follows is all too like a dream. The twelfth bell rings, and they are holding hands for a timeless moment there in the snow, and then they are heading to Jim’s apartment. Jim unlocks the door to his place, a small apartment he very seldom gets to see, and he’s glad it’s something like clean, and he is so relieved to have Bones again, his Bones…
Dammit, Jim!
I couldn’t just leave you there lookin’ all pathetic-
He stops dead in his tracks as the door opens; turns and stares at the man whose hand he’s holding. “Wait,” he says. “Wait. Who are you?”
There’s no cadet enrolled with that name in the Fleet…
It’s almost worse than the mind-meld with the elder Spock: the two very different sets of memories, one with McCoy, and one-without. “Bones?”
Leonard-Bones-pauses too. “You remember?” He looks awestruck-and not a little wary.
“Yeah.” Jim frowns. There’s a growing burn of anger in his gut, but also confusion, but most of all this overwhelming sense of relief that Bones is back and he’s here. “I don’t understand. You’re here, I know you, but you aren’t-“ He breaks off, hardly able to articulate it.
Bones actually looks sheepish at that. “I’m not human, Jim,” he says simply. “I was made to guard, and-you above all others, I guarded.” Jim can see it now, actually, this odd sort of aura like a light shining under Bones’s skin. He feels like it should freak him the hell out, but like so much else about the other man, it doesn’t. “I was granted a day to be human with you.”
“But-those other memories? We were together for over three years, Bones!”
Bones tilts his head to the side. “I was, and I was not. You would call it something like a quantum effect-when you saw me, I was there, and if not, I was not. It was necessary,” he adds implacably, sounding for the first time like something truly other. “To save the timelines, you had to be in Starfleet. For you to be in Starfleet, you had to be found by Pike. To be found by Pike, you had to be alive. So.” He makes a flourish with one hand, as if to say ‘and so it has been demonstrated.’
“I was always with you,” he continues, “and I watched. And as I watched, I loved. And as I loved-“ He shakes his head. “To us, love is something all-encompassing and distant at once. With you, it was something else. I-I wanted--needed--“ He doesn’t finish, because Jim’s mouth is covering his.
Jim knows this is a bad idea, possibly the worst ever. But it’s Bones, and the one set of memories is as full of hungry, hesitant desire as it is affection and exasperation and just-love. And he knows that whatever is going on, whatever may happen, he does love this man, this-
He breaks the kiss. “What are you?”
Bones’s eyes in the low light are almost glowing. “Let’s call me your guardian angel, Jim.”
~
Bones-mortal Bones-is a virgin.
They are on Jim’s bed, half naked already, and the other man is quivering, and-it just feels odd. Jim pulls back. “What’s going on, Bones?” He runs an affectionate hand through Bones’s dark hair, a tuft of which sticks up afterwards in an unexpected and adorable cowlick. Jim smiles at it; in fact he smiles so wide because he’s so happy, it almost hurts.
Bones is flushed, breathing hard. “This is new to me,” he admits. “When I was corporeal before, you never-we never-“ He’s actually blushing. “-so I’ve never-“
“You’re a virgin.” Jim sits back on his heels, contemplating. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” says Bones.
Jim takes a long, steadying breath. “Transwarp equations,” he murmurs under his breath. “V is equal to the cube of w and f with c…”
“What are you doing?” Bones is amused and appalled at once.
“Calculating,” Jim answers. “I need to calm down if you’ve never done this before. Ack!” This last is uttered as Bones smacks him with a pillow.
“Stop that,” the angel says. “I may not have done this, but I've watched over you your whole life. I know something about it. I know a lot of somethings about it, and I know that reciting mathematics in bed isn't a good thing."
“Says you,” Jim shoots back. “I think I discovered a new kink here.” He grins as he pushes Bones gently back into the bed. “And I’m not done yet. I could get into the Golden Ratio if you want…” He nuzzles at the other man’s neck, placing a series of teasing nibbles and bites down the line of his neck and chest, winding up in the vicinity of his navel. “Fibonacci sequences…”
“Jim!”
He trails lower still, using his tongue now. “Oh look, the Golden Triangle…”
”Jim!”
Afterwards Jim moves to lie beside the other man, pulling him close. “I’m going to get this right,” he says sincerely. “This needs to be perfect.”
Bones laughs, an open and free sound at odds with the taciturn doctor from his memories. “James T. Kirk,” he says, voice warm and deep with affection, “you couldn’t be more perfect if you tried.”
Jim shakes his head. “I very much doubt that,” he says. “If you’ve been watching, then you know-“ He takes a deep breath, thinking of every time he failed, every time he fucked up.
Bones kisses him gently. “I know, Jim. I stand by what I said.” He finishes undressing Jim, watching him with that warm glow in those hazel eyes that makes Jim want to melt. When he takes Jim’s cock in his mouth, Jim thinks he may well die, because yeah, this innocent hunger and enthusiasm is so much hotter than the practiced tricks of other lovers. “Easy, easy!” He pulls back, and Bones looks up at him in confusion. “I want this to last, is all.”
“We’ve got all day, Jim,” Bones says, shaking his head. “There’s time enough.”
That makes Jim pull back and stare. “A day?” he echoes, feeling cold all of a sudden. “You said that earlier. Wait, does that mean-A day?” he repeats in disbelief.
Bones nods.
“You mean, only one?” Jim’s disappointment and horror fill his voice.
Bones looks confused. “What’s the matter?”
“I thought-I guess I thought you were back for good.” Jim glances at the clock, it’s almost three in the morning already. He’s been so excited that he doesn’t feel sleepy, but he will soon enough. He wonders if he has any stims in this place anywhere, because he doesn’t want to miss a single second of Bones if all they’ve got is a single day…
“Jim, a day is an eternity,” Bones offers quietly. He presses a kiss to Jim’s shoulder, and then another to his back. The simple affection makes his disappointment almost harder to bear.
“Yeah,” Jim says slowly, a careful exhalation. “I suppose in a way it is.” He pulls Bones close to him, kissing him on the mouth once more. The angel’s mouth opens to his unhesitatingly, and their tongues dart against each other in tender exploration. Bones’s hand strays between his legs, long fingers encircling his cock, which is starting to harden once more. “Bones.”
“Shh, Jim. Let me do this.”
Overwrought senses, the scent and taste and feel of Bones are all too much, and Jim comes abruptly with a silent cry.
~
He sleeps for a few hours, then wakens abruptly. Bones is watching him avidly as if memorizing him; the clock reads 0655.
“Merry Christmas,” Jim slurs sleepily.
“Merry Christmas, Jim.” Bones leans down to kiss him, nuzzling him warmly. Jim pulls the other man to him so they are wrapped around each other tightly. He starts to drift off again, then shocks to full wakefulness as he remembers that his time with Bones can quite literally be counted in hours.
Jim deepens their kiss, moving so their thighs come together. Bones’s stiffening erection bumps against his, and as he inhales the heady scents of sweat and sex, he knows he has to have Bones properly, soon.
“I need you,” he mutters against the other man’s lips, pressing his hard cock against the other man pointedly. “I’ll be as careful as I can, I promise-“
“I know,” Bones murmurs back. “Dammit, Jim, I’m a virgin, not an idiot. Now stop apologizing and fuck me already!” He sounds very much like his old self, and Jim feels an insane urge to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead he swallows both down and retrieves the bottle of lube from the nightstand. He squirts some into his palm, rubbing it over his cock, then pours out some more onto his fingers.
“I need to get you ready first,” Jim explains. “Here, lie like this.” He grabs a pillow, pushing it under Bones’s hips as the other man moves obligingly. “Legs up a little-there you go.” He kneels down, exploring Bones’s body cautiously in the early morning light. Bones’s cock is at half-mast, the dark brown hair at its base thick and curly. The skin of his testicles is dark pink, the hair dusting them a lighter brown there than on the rest of him. The flesh of his perineum is pale, and the small pucker of his hole is strangely innocent. Jim strokes it with his thumb, almost affectionately, and it flexes slightly.
“You’ve done this before, Jim,” Bones reminds him, as if following his thoughts. “Relax. I’m okay.”
“Are you telepathic too?” Jim asks grumpily. “Besides, that was different.” He hadn’t loved Tom Leighton, not exactly-and definitely not the way he loves Bones.
Bones chuckles. “No,” he says, “I just know you. Ah!” He gasps as Jim slips one finger in up to the knuckle, crooking it experimentally.
“Like that, do you?” Jim teases, trying to keep his voice light. He moves the digit in and out gently, until it comes and goes easily. He slips in a second finger then, repeating the process as he gently stretches the other man open. When he adds a third finger, Bones is murmuring incoherently, hips almost jumping off the bed with his thrusts.
Jim’s own cock is almost painfully hard, the head of it damp with precome. Rubbing more lube over himself, he takes his place between Bones's legs and sits back on his heels, his cock jerking eagerly in his hand. Holding onto one of Bones’s knees, almost for support, he presses the head at the entrance. “I’m going to go slow, I promise.”
“Dammit, Jim!” the angel growls impatiently, “Shut. Up. And. Fuck. Me.”
Jim pushes, then, the head of his cock disappearing into the other man with only the slightest hesitation. Centimeter by precious centimeter he continues the deft invasion, exulting in the tight heat that engulfs him. “Fuck, Bones,” he murmurs reverently, “I wish you could see this. It’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Jim!” Bones grunts in answer, voice low and deep with something like awe as well as hunger. Jim doesn’t answer, just continues until he’s fully seated, and then he’s still, because the both of them are quivering in overwrought sensation. After a space of time that could be seconds or minutes or hell, even hours, Bones speaks again. “Jim!” he says, and in the single syllable of his name is a wealth of desire, need, and affection, and that’s what gets him to move.
He starts slowly. Tiny thrusts that are little more than nudges of his hips against Bones’s ass. When the other man makes hungry sounds of approval, Jim pulls back further, moving his cock out an inch or so before pushing back in. Bones moves with him eagerly, hips rising to meet his thrusts. Jim wishes he dared to show off a little-he longs to snap his hips just so, to pull out almost completely and then to shove back in abruptly, to make the other man scream with joy and hunger-but he doesn’t. Maybe later, if there’s time and Bones isn’t too sore from this.
“Fuck, Bones!” he mumurs helplessly when the other man cries out in surprised joy. It seems Jim found his sweet spot, and he angles his body so that he can hit it again and again. “Fuck!” Bones’s face is transfigured in ecstasy as he comes, back arched, eyes shut tight, lips open and just the slightest quirk to show they’d be smiling widely if they were closed. The knowledge that he’s giving this man absolute pleasure is what undoes Jim in the end, too, pushes him over the edge. “Bones!”
They remain like that after, joined while Jim loses his erection and can remove himself easily. Bones’s expression is unbelievably sweet and amazed. “Jim.”
“Yeah, Bones?”
“I love you.” The angel’s voice is soft with wonder.
Jim swallows a giddy laugh. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”
~
They spend hours touching each other, laughing, talking. At some point Jim replicates them a very late breakfast of French toast and he laughs harder because Bones really loves maple syrup, and then they end up using the syrup on one another and the remains of their food are forgotten in the ensuing activities.
It’s late afternoon when they decide to emerge from the cozy nest of Jim’s bed. Christmas afternoon is sunny and cool, and the streets are full of people also out to celebrate the holiday. Somehow they decide that they really need to see the dorm where they were roommates all that time ago, and the halls where they attended classes. They trek across the nearly deserted campus, though a handful of uniformed personnel are around, because it is only a holiday for some of Earth’s Terran population.
They stop at the Zefram Cochrane Memorial Center, where a line of tourists wait to take guided tours of Fleet history.
“Man, remember when we went on that?” Jim asks Bones with a grin. “We were all so hungover, but Mitchell and Gaila thought it would be funny. I thought you were going to kill Gary-“ Bones looks confused, eyes distant as he stares at something beyond them. “Bones?”
Bones’s eyes are wide with horror. “Jim, down!” he growls, tackling him and pressing him to the ground, just as an explosion rips the air around them.
The force of it makes Jim lose consciousness for a second. Ears ringing, he comes to; there’s the sounds of screaming and crying in the air, the scents of burning and ozone.
“Bones?”
He looks over, and the angel is lying on his stomach on the ground. His clothes are dark and burnt, his face pale and covered in cuts and bruises. He must’ve been thrown-
“Bones?!”
There is no answer, and all Jim can hear is his own pulse in his ears and the emergency sirens as ambulances arrive and start to carry the injured away.
~
Jim doesn’t let Bones out of his sight-he really doesn’t want to be away from him physically. It’s not just the fear of being separated again, of losing his memories-although there is that, too-but it’s the completely irrational belief that if he loses sight of Bones he’ll be gone.
Completely. For good.
So he glares at the doctors who try to send him away, lets them direct him to a spot outside of the operating room but with a viewing window where he can wait, and then when they bring Bones out to recuperate in a biobed, he pulls up a chair and waits. There are some PADDs with reading material on a table nearby-newsfeeds, entertainment magazines, that sort of thing-but he doesn’t touch them. He just stares at Bones, willing himself to remember, no matter what…
“Jim!”
“Captain!”
Jim looks up and there’s Nyota, looking confused and upset, and Spock, brow furrowed with disquiet.
“Guys!?” he asks blankly, relieved to see them but confused too.
“We came as soon as we heard!” Nyota answers his unspoken question, hugging him tightly.
“We were informed the doctor’s prognosis is favorable,” Spock says calmly as he gazes at the still figure before them. Jim knows him well enough to recognize that inner turmoil of worry that the half-Vulcan keeps for only a few. “And that those responsible for the attack have been apprehended.”
“Gaila notified us. Orion Syndicate members masquerading as Andorians,” Nyota says darkly. “They couldn’t kill Sarek at Babel, so they thought they’d try to make an example at Starfleet Command. They couldn’t penetrate security there, so they decided to attack civilians instead. Komack’s supposed to be on the news soon.” She turns back to the biobed, and its occupant. “He was--?” She can’t finish.
“He pushed me out of the way,” Jim says ruefully. He doesn’t ask any more questions-it must be the quantum effect Bones mentioned before-because he was here the others remembered him as if he had always been there. “I was distracted-he heard something, and-“ His face feels warm, and he realizes that for the first time in-he doesn’t even know, before Tarsus maybe, maybe even before Frank-that he can feel tears building. “I’ve seen people hurt, but, but Bones-“
“Shh.” Nyota has her arms around him before he can stutter out anything else. “He’s okay. You’re okay. Jim.”
“I can’t lose him, not again.” The words are so quiet, he barely hears them himself. “I can’t.”
Spock’s brow furrows further. “Doctor McCoy has never left your side, Captain,” he says. “Nor would he.”
“Yeah.” Jim swallows everything back. Bones’s presence here-the altered memories-it’s just too much. “Yeah. Um. If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
The two nod. “Of course, Jim.” Spock uses his name so rarely, even now. “But if you should need anything-“ He leaves the remainder unsaid, and Nyota presses his hand in farewell, and they’re gone.
The room is very quiet. He sits down in the chair again, cupping his hands against his skull. “Please, please, please,” he murmurs, though he’s not certain to who.
Jim has never felt more alone in his life. Because I haven’t been, he realizes.
No, you haven’t. The voice is different than the one he always heard before-but strangely friendly. Comforting.
“Please,” he says again to that strange voice. “I need him. I love him. Please.” He hears an odd flutter somewhere to his left, like bird’s wings, but he doesn’t see anything.
“Jim?”
Jim turns back; Bones is awake. He looks like hell, but-he’s awake. Confused, black and blue, but alive. Different, now, Jim can see when he looks closer; that odd, other worldly glow to him is gone.
“Bones!” Jim is up and at his side in an instant. “You’re-“
“I’m still here,” Bones says, looking around in surprise. “And-I feel-“ He makes a face. “Is this pain?”
“Most likely. Could be the drugs,” Jim offers with an almost unhinged laugh of relief. He strokes Bones’s hair. “Do you remember what happened? You were banged up pretty bad.”
Bones blinks, as if waking up. “Um. Well, there was the explosion, and then-something, and then-I was talking with Castiel again.” He frowns, then scrabbles at the covers. “He gave me-he left-“ He flounders for a moment, then finds what he’s looking for. Bones examines the item in his palm curiously, turning it over. “What is it?” he asks, handing it to Jim.
“It’s an Ident-card,” Jim says, licking his lips as he looks at the small object. “For Leonard McCoy. It, uh, says you’re a doctor.” He feels his lips twitch in a grin. “My CMO, even.”
Bones-and it really is Bones now, Jim thinks with delight-looks confused for a moment, and then there’s a dawning light of realization. “Castiel, he-I’m human. For real this time.”
Jim starts to catch on as well, and he can barely believe it. “For good?”
“A mortal life. With you.” Bones smiles at him, and Jim knows that this is the way it was meant to be.
END.
Author: caitri
Rating: NC-17 (Language, Sex)
Pairings: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 5,718
Summary: AU. A Christmas miracle for the boys, written for avictoriangirl, who made this gorgeous picture. An x-over of sorts with Supernatural (post-show). Or Judao-Christian mythology. However you want to roll. With apologies for its lateness and its abuse of angelic canon. With great thanks to gadgetorious for betaing, particularly for Castiel.
Disclaimer: I know this may come as a shock, but I am not, amazing as it may seem, Gene Roddenberry, J.J. Abrams, Paramount or Bad Robot. Just so you know.
In the beginning there was naught, and then there was light…and Earth and stars and life, and they all sang. From the notes then were created Those Who Are, those who watch, who protect and guard, who avenge and mete justice. Each to their nature stowed…
And one among them was called Mihael, and his station was Loyalty.
And he watched. For generations upon generations he watched. And then he Saw.
Even Angels Fall
2233
Winona is dizzy with grief and drugs. She looks at her new baby boy, Jim, and fresh tears come to her eyes. She hears a sound like the flutter of wings, and looks up. She sees nothing. Must’ve been her imagination…
~
Mihael frowns to himself. This isn’t the way it was supposed to go at all: The Kelvin was supposed to return to Earth in two weeks. Jim Kirk was going to be born in Riverside, Iowa in five. Winona Kirk was going to stay at home with her sons while George Kirk remained in Starfleet.
The balance has shifted. The order is lost.
2240
Jim had thought that climbing the tree back behind the house would be a good idea. He figured if he got to the top, he’d be able to see Mommy on her ship. Unfortunately, not only was he unable to see her all the way up here, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get down, either.
“Hi,” says a voice. Jim looks over. It’s another boy, one a few years older than him. He’s perched on a branch nearby.
“Hi,” Jim says. “Where did you come from?”
The boy shrugs. “I’ve always been here,” he says. “You just don’t always see me.”
“Like a chameleon?” Jim read about those recently; he thinks they’re great. If he was like a chameleon, then he could blend in whenever and Frank wouldn’t be able to find him when he was mad.
“Something like that,” the boy says after a short pause.
“Cool,” Jim says sincerely. He shifts, trying to gain better purchase; the branch under him bends a little. “What’s your name? Ah!”
The branch gives under his weight and he starts to plummet, but the other boy’s hand is suddenly clasping his, holding to him tightly. Jim’s dangling feet settle on another branch, this one thicker. It supports his weight easily.
“You okay?” The boy doesn’t sound worried though.
“Yeah.” Jim exhales as he looks down. On the plus side, he thinks, it’ll be easier to climb down from here. “Thanks. Hey, what’s your name?”
There’s no answer. No one’s there.
Not that he can see.
Chameleon, Jim thinks.
~
“Mihael, what do you think you’re doing?” Castiel looks confused, but not angry. Mihael supposes this is something, at least.
“He matters,” Mihael answers. “That’s-it, really.”
The other angel looks sympathetic. “They all matter,” he says carefully. “Just-be careful, okay? We all have our parts to play here.”
“I know.”
2245
Jim swears he can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he pushes the antique car to its limits. When he yells, it’s as much in heated joy as it is release from the pent-up anger. As he speeds closer to the cliff’s edge, for one wild second he has a thought: What would it be like to go over?
No!
That jolts him, because that angry negative in his head? Isn’t from him.
Startled, maybe a little freaked even, he pulls the car to the side but it’s got too much momentum. He leaps out, arms spread, feet together like a diver. Catches the edge of the rock, slips, holds on.
Climbs up and out. The roaring of his own blood deafens the crash below and makes the figure before him almost insubstantial.
Jim, says the figure, another boy who is dark and familiar. And the apparition is gone, and before him is someone else instead.
Jim licks his lips, still uncertain as to what it was he saw-what he heard--so clearly before.
“State your name, Citizen.”
It definitely wasn’t the filtered voice of the cop. He resists the urge to look around, because he knows no one else is nearby.
“My name is James Tiberius Kirk!”
He half expects to hear that other voice again, at least, but he doesn’t.
~
“Mihael?”
“The timeline-it’s wrong. I’m just fixing it.”
"He is important to you," says Castiel. It's a question, but it's not. "You value him, above all others. Why him?"
“Not-above all others.”
“Mihael.”
“I have nothing else to say, Castiel.”
“Right,” the angel says dryly. “Because you’re an angel, and none of us have ever shown that kind of preference before.”
Mihael doesn’t answer. He watches.
2246
Jim! Wake up!
“Wha--?” Jim is suddenly awake, blinking in the dark.
JIM! WAKE UP AND GO, NOW!
He’s already out of bed and moving, muzzy brain slowly catching up to the rest of him.
Not that way. The C.G. is out there. Go out the back.
He does as he’s bid, feeling ice along the line of his spine. He passes the sleeping forms of his aunt and his uncle and his cousin. He pauses, starts to go wake them.
JIM, NO! MOVE! THIS WAY!
He freezes and his feet move towards the voice, and he’s out the door when he hears the sharp, high-pitched reports of the phase-rifles.
Into the woods! Quickly!
Unmindful of the chilly ground, he slips into the thick vegetation, stumbling over a warm form. There’s a short cry, cut off as he presses his hand against another’s lips. In the dim light of the twin moons, he makes out the indistinct features of Kevin Riley. The younger boy’s eyes are wide and damp with horror, and all of a sudden, Jim knows what’s happening all over Tarsus IV.
I’m sorry, Jim. It’s not your fault. Remember that.
In the months to come, he hears that voice, now and again. It tells him where to find water, how to scavenge for the scarce edibles: the bark of certain trees, some native berries, the roots of certain plants.
He finds a few other survivors, and they band together. He doesn’t dare to ask them if they hear a helpful voice.
~
“Do you know why you do it, Mihael?” Castiel wants to know, again. They watch together, sometimes, and Castiel has never seen the other angel so fascinated with a mortal before.
Mihael shrugs. “I can’t-not,” he answers.
Castiel doesn’t press further, after that. God knows the things he’s done for all the wrong reasons, too.
2255
Jim sits on his bike, staring at the partially built ship out in the yards. She’ll be a beauty when she’s done, he can tell: all sleek lines and white surfaces. They remind him of pictures he’s seen of bleached whale bones. He read once that whales sang; a small part of him wonders if ships do, too.
What the song of this one would be like.
Go, Jim.
He hasn’t heard the voice in a very, very long time. But it’s never lead him wrong before.
He turns the bike, heading to the shipyards as dawn curves over the horizon.
~
“Mihael, be careful. You’re treading perilously close, here.”
“I know. But-it’s necessary.”
~
Jim is buckling in, frowning at the safety harnesses. He hasn’t worn one of these since coming back from Tarsus… He feels sick, suddenly, and he’s acutely aware of the waves of hostility radiating at him from the other cadets. For a split second he thinks this is a mistake, that it’s not too late, he can get out of here, out of this shuttle that’s too much like the other shuttle-
“I don’t need a doctor, dammit, I am a doctor-“
Jim freezes. He knows that voice.
He stares at its owner, eyes taking in the form while his ears half hear the argument.
“Sit down-“
“I suffer from aviophobia, it means fear of flying-“
“I said sit down or I’ll make you sit down!”
The man finally throws himself into a seat, right next to Jim, still grumbling. “I may throw up on ya,” he warns.
Jim’s fascination turns to irritation. “Well I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space.”
“Don’t pander to me, kid,” the man grumbles.
Jim forgets his temptation to run, is too focused on arguing with the man who says he’s got nothing left but his bones…
~
“You know this isn’t going to end anywhere good, right?”
A flash of irritation and a look that Castiel has long ago learned to recognize as "Shut up."
2258
Komack eyes Kirk’s requested crew manifest with interest: specifically, the senior bridge crew, most of whom are hardly senior at all.
“McCoy,” he reads aloud. He looks puzzled, hitting a series of commands on his PADD.
Jim shifts slightly. Somehow he hadn’t expected Bones to be the one crewman the Admiral would question. “He was acting CMO after Dr. Puri was killed,” he says defensively. “Pike had picked him as one of his senior medical officers.”
Komack shakes his head. “You must be mistaken. There’s no cadet enrolled with that name in the Fleet, let alone in Medical.”
“With apologies, sir,” Jim says carefully, albeit with a touch of impatience, “but that can’t be right. We took classes together, he got me onboard the Enterprise when we left Earth-“
Komack frowns, peering at the PADD before him once more. “I’m sorry cad-Captain,” he corrects himself, “but there’s no one here by that name.”
Jim gets up, starts to argue, then:
Let it go, Jim.
“Bones?” His friend is there, alright, and he’s so relieved he can barely stand it. “What’s going on, why-“
“I’m sorry, Jim.” Bones’s hazel eyes are regretful, and he solemnly touches Jim on the forehead, a strange gesture like a benediction.
“Is there a problem, Captain?” Komack stares at him.
Jim blinks. “Um-I-what?” He shakes his head. He has the odd sensation that he’s-forgotten-something. Something important. “Sorry, sir, I must’ve blanked out for a second, I guess.”
The Admiral looks sympathetic. “Too many late nights. It’s only gonna get worse, son.” He pushes the PADD over to him. “Your crew manifest looks rock solid to me. Particularly the doctor-M’Benga’s a good man.”
Jim nods. “Thank you, sir. I thought so, too.”
~
“There-your work is done, Mihael. He’s where he needs to be, now. More or less,” Castiel adds to himself.
“I know.”
If Castiel thinks the other angel sounds regretful, he doesn’t say anything.
Time passes, in the way it does to those who watch. And then, finally, Mihael asks for something, and Castiel can’t find it in his (metaphorical) heart to refuse…
2260
Jim shakes his head, laughing at his two friends. “Guys, I’m serious,” he says to Nyota and Spock. “It’s getting late, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to finish my drink and I’ll head home, too.”
“Jim!” Nyota rolls her eyes. “It’s Christmas Eve-“
“-For another four point six minutes, my love,” Spock tells his mate.
Jim hides a grin; Spock has had hot chocolate and it must have hit the Vulcan’s system harder than he thought if he’s using affectionate endearments like that-even though only Nyota and Jim would hear.
“-and we’re the only ones left here.” Nyota nods at the coffee shop that is closing around them. Her expression softens as her gaze returns to her mate, and Jim can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. It’s times like this when he wishes he had someone to share the holidays with. The last real personnel left hours ago, and it’s all automatons and replicators now. They’ve spent most of the day finishing up the reports and requisitions before Enterprise ships out again, and they may well be some of the only people still on Starfleet’s campus now. “You really want to start the holiday by yourself?”
“Lieutenant Uhura, I’m giving you an order.” Jim smirks at her. “Take your man home and have a good time. Now. I’ll see you in a week.”
Spock raises an eloquent eyebrow as Nyota makes a face. “To contradict a direct order from a superior officer would be most problematic under the circumstances,” he says gently. “Might I suggest we remove ourselves to our quarters and allow the Captain to his celebration, per his wishes?”
Nyota sighs. “Fine,” she says, subsiding. She kisses Jim on the cheek gently. “Merry Christmas, Jim.” She takes Spock’s hand.
The Vulcan nods at him formally. “We will see you later, my friend.”
“Yeah, you two kids have fun,” Jim says with a smile. When they are gone, he sits back into the comfortable chair, sipping the last of his Irish hot chocolate. Somewhere he can hear the chiming of church bells as the midnight hour strikes.
“Merry Christmas, Jim,” he tells himself.
“Whoa!” The cry is just outside the coffee shop.
Jim is on his feet and running outside to investigate without a thought. The bells continue distantly in the background, the sound hanging in the chilly evening air like a promise.
“Hey! Are you okay?” he calls out. There’s a man in a white suit, standing out in the dark, staring up at the sky. He looks slightly confused, and-Jim loses his train of thought as the man turns around and their eyes meet. “Hi.” His breath feels caught in his throat, because he knows this man, somehow, even though he’s never seen him before in his life-
All I got left is my bones… Something like a memory…. McCoy, Leonard McCoy.
“Hi,” the man says back. He smiles brightly, and Jim feels himself smiling back. “My name is Leonard.”
“Hi Leonard,” Jim says, his voice an exhalation. “My name is Jim.”
“Yeah,” Leonard says. “I know.”
~
Later Jim will think what follows is all too like a dream. The twelfth bell rings, and they are holding hands for a timeless moment there in the snow, and then they are heading to Jim’s apartment. Jim unlocks the door to his place, a small apartment he very seldom gets to see, and he’s glad it’s something like clean, and he is so relieved to have Bones again, his Bones…
Dammit, Jim!
I couldn’t just leave you there lookin’ all pathetic-
He stops dead in his tracks as the door opens; turns and stares at the man whose hand he’s holding. “Wait,” he says. “Wait. Who are you?”
There’s no cadet enrolled with that name in the Fleet…
It’s almost worse than the mind-meld with the elder Spock: the two very different sets of memories, one with McCoy, and one-without. “Bones?”
Leonard-Bones-pauses too. “You remember?” He looks awestruck-and not a little wary.
“Yeah.” Jim frowns. There’s a growing burn of anger in his gut, but also confusion, but most of all this overwhelming sense of relief that Bones is back and he’s here. “I don’t understand. You’re here, I know you, but you aren’t-“ He breaks off, hardly able to articulate it.
Bones actually looks sheepish at that. “I’m not human, Jim,” he says simply. “I was made to guard, and-you above all others, I guarded.” Jim can see it now, actually, this odd sort of aura like a light shining under Bones’s skin. He feels like it should freak him the hell out, but like so much else about the other man, it doesn’t. “I was granted a day to be human with you.”
“But-those other memories? We were together for over three years, Bones!”
Bones tilts his head to the side. “I was, and I was not. You would call it something like a quantum effect-when you saw me, I was there, and if not, I was not. It was necessary,” he adds implacably, sounding for the first time like something truly other. “To save the timelines, you had to be in Starfleet. For you to be in Starfleet, you had to be found by Pike. To be found by Pike, you had to be alive. So.” He makes a flourish with one hand, as if to say ‘and so it has been demonstrated.’
“I was always with you,” he continues, “and I watched. And as I watched, I loved. And as I loved-“ He shakes his head. “To us, love is something all-encompassing and distant at once. With you, it was something else. I-I wanted--needed--“ He doesn’t finish, because Jim’s mouth is covering his.
Jim knows this is a bad idea, possibly the worst ever. But it’s Bones, and the one set of memories is as full of hungry, hesitant desire as it is affection and exasperation and just-love. And he knows that whatever is going on, whatever may happen, he does love this man, this-
He breaks the kiss. “What are you?”
Bones’s eyes in the low light are almost glowing. “Let’s call me your guardian angel, Jim.”
~
Bones-mortal Bones-is a virgin.
They are on Jim’s bed, half naked already, and the other man is quivering, and-it just feels odd. Jim pulls back. “What’s going on, Bones?” He runs an affectionate hand through Bones’s dark hair, a tuft of which sticks up afterwards in an unexpected and adorable cowlick. Jim smiles at it; in fact he smiles so wide because he’s so happy, it almost hurts.
Bones is flushed, breathing hard. “This is new to me,” he admits. “When I was corporeal before, you never-we never-“ He’s actually blushing. “-so I’ve never-“
“You’re a virgin.” Jim sits back on his heels, contemplating. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” says Bones.
Jim takes a long, steadying breath. “Transwarp equations,” he murmurs under his breath. “V is equal to the cube of w and f with c…”
“What are you doing?” Bones is amused and appalled at once.
“Calculating,” Jim answers. “I need to calm down if you’ve never done this before. Ack!” This last is uttered as Bones smacks him with a pillow.
“Stop that,” the angel says. “I may not have done this, but I've watched over you your whole life. I know something about it. I know a lot of somethings about it, and I know that reciting mathematics in bed isn't a good thing."
“Says you,” Jim shoots back. “I think I discovered a new kink here.” He grins as he pushes Bones gently back into the bed. “And I’m not done yet. I could get into the Golden Ratio if you want…” He nuzzles at the other man’s neck, placing a series of teasing nibbles and bites down the line of his neck and chest, winding up in the vicinity of his navel. “Fibonacci sequences…”
“Jim!”
He trails lower still, using his tongue now. “Oh look, the Golden Triangle…”
”Jim!”
Afterwards Jim moves to lie beside the other man, pulling him close. “I’m going to get this right,” he says sincerely. “This needs to be perfect.”
Bones laughs, an open and free sound at odds with the taciturn doctor from his memories. “James T. Kirk,” he says, voice warm and deep with affection, “you couldn’t be more perfect if you tried.”
Jim shakes his head. “I very much doubt that,” he says. “If you’ve been watching, then you know-“ He takes a deep breath, thinking of every time he failed, every time he fucked up.
Bones kisses him gently. “I know, Jim. I stand by what I said.” He finishes undressing Jim, watching him with that warm glow in those hazel eyes that makes Jim want to melt. When he takes Jim’s cock in his mouth, Jim thinks he may well die, because yeah, this innocent hunger and enthusiasm is so much hotter than the practiced tricks of other lovers. “Easy, easy!” He pulls back, and Bones looks up at him in confusion. “I want this to last, is all.”
“We’ve got all day, Jim,” Bones says, shaking his head. “There’s time enough.”
That makes Jim pull back and stare. “A day?” he echoes, feeling cold all of a sudden. “You said that earlier. Wait, does that mean-A day?” he repeats in disbelief.
Bones nods.
“You mean, only one?” Jim’s disappointment and horror fill his voice.
Bones looks confused. “What’s the matter?”
“I thought-I guess I thought you were back for good.” Jim glances at the clock, it’s almost three in the morning already. He’s been so excited that he doesn’t feel sleepy, but he will soon enough. He wonders if he has any stims in this place anywhere, because he doesn’t want to miss a single second of Bones if all they’ve got is a single day…
“Jim, a day is an eternity,” Bones offers quietly. He presses a kiss to Jim’s shoulder, and then another to his back. The simple affection makes his disappointment almost harder to bear.
“Yeah,” Jim says slowly, a careful exhalation. “I suppose in a way it is.” He pulls Bones close to him, kissing him on the mouth once more. The angel’s mouth opens to his unhesitatingly, and their tongues dart against each other in tender exploration. Bones’s hand strays between his legs, long fingers encircling his cock, which is starting to harden once more. “Bones.”
“Shh, Jim. Let me do this.”
Overwrought senses, the scent and taste and feel of Bones are all too much, and Jim comes abruptly with a silent cry.
~
He sleeps for a few hours, then wakens abruptly. Bones is watching him avidly as if memorizing him; the clock reads 0655.
“Merry Christmas,” Jim slurs sleepily.
“Merry Christmas, Jim.” Bones leans down to kiss him, nuzzling him warmly. Jim pulls the other man to him so they are wrapped around each other tightly. He starts to drift off again, then shocks to full wakefulness as he remembers that his time with Bones can quite literally be counted in hours.
Jim deepens their kiss, moving so their thighs come together. Bones’s stiffening erection bumps against his, and as he inhales the heady scents of sweat and sex, he knows he has to have Bones properly, soon.
“I need you,” he mutters against the other man’s lips, pressing his hard cock against the other man pointedly. “I’ll be as careful as I can, I promise-“
“I know,” Bones murmurs back. “Dammit, Jim, I’m a virgin, not an idiot. Now stop apologizing and fuck me already!” He sounds very much like his old self, and Jim feels an insane urge to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead he swallows both down and retrieves the bottle of lube from the nightstand. He squirts some into his palm, rubbing it over his cock, then pours out some more onto his fingers.
“I need to get you ready first,” Jim explains. “Here, lie like this.” He grabs a pillow, pushing it under Bones’s hips as the other man moves obligingly. “Legs up a little-there you go.” He kneels down, exploring Bones’s body cautiously in the early morning light. Bones’s cock is at half-mast, the dark brown hair at its base thick and curly. The skin of his testicles is dark pink, the hair dusting them a lighter brown there than on the rest of him. The flesh of his perineum is pale, and the small pucker of his hole is strangely innocent. Jim strokes it with his thumb, almost affectionately, and it flexes slightly.
“You’ve done this before, Jim,” Bones reminds him, as if following his thoughts. “Relax. I’m okay.”
“Are you telepathic too?” Jim asks grumpily. “Besides, that was different.” He hadn’t loved Tom Leighton, not exactly-and definitely not the way he loves Bones.
Bones chuckles. “No,” he says, “I just know you. Ah!” He gasps as Jim slips one finger in up to the knuckle, crooking it experimentally.
“Like that, do you?” Jim teases, trying to keep his voice light. He moves the digit in and out gently, until it comes and goes easily. He slips in a second finger then, repeating the process as he gently stretches the other man open. When he adds a third finger, Bones is murmuring incoherently, hips almost jumping off the bed with his thrusts.
Jim’s own cock is almost painfully hard, the head of it damp with precome. Rubbing more lube over himself, he takes his place between Bones's legs and sits back on his heels, his cock jerking eagerly in his hand. Holding onto one of Bones’s knees, almost for support, he presses the head at the entrance. “I’m going to go slow, I promise.”
“Dammit, Jim!” the angel growls impatiently, “Shut. Up. And. Fuck. Me.”
Jim pushes, then, the head of his cock disappearing into the other man with only the slightest hesitation. Centimeter by precious centimeter he continues the deft invasion, exulting in the tight heat that engulfs him. “Fuck, Bones,” he murmurs reverently, “I wish you could see this. It’s fucking gorgeous.”
“Jim!” Bones grunts in answer, voice low and deep with something like awe as well as hunger. Jim doesn’t answer, just continues until he’s fully seated, and then he’s still, because the both of them are quivering in overwrought sensation. After a space of time that could be seconds or minutes or hell, even hours, Bones speaks again. “Jim!” he says, and in the single syllable of his name is a wealth of desire, need, and affection, and that’s what gets him to move.
He starts slowly. Tiny thrusts that are little more than nudges of his hips against Bones’s ass. When the other man makes hungry sounds of approval, Jim pulls back further, moving his cock out an inch or so before pushing back in. Bones moves with him eagerly, hips rising to meet his thrusts. Jim wishes he dared to show off a little-he longs to snap his hips just so, to pull out almost completely and then to shove back in abruptly, to make the other man scream with joy and hunger-but he doesn’t. Maybe later, if there’s time and Bones isn’t too sore from this.
“Fuck, Bones!” he mumurs helplessly when the other man cries out in surprised joy. It seems Jim found his sweet spot, and he angles his body so that he can hit it again and again. “Fuck!” Bones’s face is transfigured in ecstasy as he comes, back arched, eyes shut tight, lips open and just the slightest quirk to show they’d be smiling widely if they were closed. The knowledge that he’s giving this man absolute pleasure is what undoes Jim in the end, too, pushes him over the edge. “Bones!”
They remain like that after, joined while Jim loses his erection and can remove himself easily. Bones’s expression is unbelievably sweet and amazed. “Jim.”
“Yeah, Bones?”
“I love you.” The angel’s voice is soft with wonder.
Jim swallows a giddy laugh. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”
~
They spend hours touching each other, laughing, talking. At some point Jim replicates them a very late breakfast of French toast and he laughs harder because Bones really loves maple syrup, and then they end up using the syrup on one another and the remains of their food are forgotten in the ensuing activities.
It’s late afternoon when they decide to emerge from the cozy nest of Jim’s bed. Christmas afternoon is sunny and cool, and the streets are full of people also out to celebrate the holiday. Somehow they decide that they really need to see the dorm where they were roommates all that time ago, and the halls where they attended classes. They trek across the nearly deserted campus, though a handful of uniformed personnel are around, because it is only a holiday for some of Earth’s Terran population.
They stop at the Zefram Cochrane Memorial Center, where a line of tourists wait to take guided tours of Fleet history.
“Man, remember when we went on that?” Jim asks Bones with a grin. “We were all so hungover, but Mitchell and Gaila thought it would be funny. I thought you were going to kill Gary-“ Bones looks confused, eyes distant as he stares at something beyond them. “Bones?”
Bones’s eyes are wide with horror. “Jim, down!” he growls, tackling him and pressing him to the ground, just as an explosion rips the air around them.
The force of it makes Jim lose consciousness for a second. Ears ringing, he comes to; there’s the sounds of screaming and crying in the air, the scents of burning and ozone.
“Bones?”
He looks over, and the angel is lying on his stomach on the ground. His clothes are dark and burnt, his face pale and covered in cuts and bruises. He must’ve been thrown-
“Bones?!”
There is no answer, and all Jim can hear is his own pulse in his ears and the emergency sirens as ambulances arrive and start to carry the injured away.
~
Jim doesn’t let Bones out of his sight-he really doesn’t want to be away from him physically. It’s not just the fear of being separated again, of losing his memories-although there is that, too-but it’s the completely irrational belief that if he loses sight of Bones he’ll be gone.
Completely. For good.
So he glares at the doctors who try to send him away, lets them direct him to a spot outside of the operating room but with a viewing window where he can wait, and then when they bring Bones out to recuperate in a biobed, he pulls up a chair and waits. There are some PADDs with reading material on a table nearby-newsfeeds, entertainment magazines, that sort of thing-but he doesn’t touch them. He just stares at Bones, willing himself to remember, no matter what…
“Jim!”
“Captain!”
Jim looks up and there’s Nyota, looking confused and upset, and Spock, brow furrowed with disquiet.
“Guys!?” he asks blankly, relieved to see them but confused too.
“We came as soon as we heard!” Nyota answers his unspoken question, hugging him tightly.
“We were informed the doctor’s prognosis is favorable,” Spock says calmly as he gazes at the still figure before them. Jim knows him well enough to recognize that inner turmoil of worry that the half-Vulcan keeps for only a few. “And that those responsible for the attack have been apprehended.”
“Gaila notified us. Orion Syndicate members masquerading as Andorians,” Nyota says darkly. “They couldn’t kill Sarek at Babel, so they thought they’d try to make an example at Starfleet Command. They couldn’t penetrate security there, so they decided to attack civilians instead. Komack’s supposed to be on the news soon.” She turns back to the biobed, and its occupant. “He was--?” She can’t finish.
“He pushed me out of the way,” Jim says ruefully. He doesn’t ask any more questions-it must be the quantum effect Bones mentioned before-because he was here the others remembered him as if he had always been there. “I was distracted-he heard something, and-“ His face feels warm, and he realizes that for the first time in-he doesn’t even know, before Tarsus maybe, maybe even before Frank-that he can feel tears building. “I’ve seen people hurt, but, but Bones-“
“Shh.” Nyota has her arms around him before he can stutter out anything else. “He’s okay. You’re okay. Jim.”
“I can’t lose him, not again.” The words are so quiet, he barely hears them himself. “I can’t.”
Spock’s brow furrows further. “Doctor McCoy has never left your side, Captain,” he says. “Nor would he.”
“Yeah.” Jim swallows everything back. Bones’s presence here-the altered memories-it’s just too much. “Yeah. Um. If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”
The two nod. “Of course, Jim.” Spock uses his name so rarely, even now. “But if you should need anything-“ He leaves the remainder unsaid, and Nyota presses his hand in farewell, and they’re gone.
The room is very quiet. He sits down in the chair again, cupping his hands against his skull. “Please, please, please,” he murmurs, though he’s not certain to who.
Jim has never felt more alone in his life. Because I haven’t been, he realizes.
No, you haven’t. The voice is different than the one he always heard before-but strangely friendly. Comforting.
“Please,” he says again to that strange voice. “I need him. I love him. Please.” He hears an odd flutter somewhere to his left, like bird’s wings, but he doesn’t see anything.
“Jim?”
Jim turns back; Bones is awake. He looks like hell, but-he’s awake. Confused, black and blue, but alive. Different, now, Jim can see when he looks closer; that odd, other worldly glow to him is gone.
“Bones!” Jim is up and at his side in an instant. “You’re-“
“I’m still here,” Bones says, looking around in surprise. “And-I feel-“ He makes a face. “Is this pain?”
“Most likely. Could be the drugs,” Jim offers with an almost unhinged laugh of relief. He strokes Bones’s hair. “Do you remember what happened? You were banged up pretty bad.”
Bones blinks, as if waking up. “Um. Well, there was the explosion, and then-something, and then-I was talking with Castiel again.” He frowns, then scrabbles at the covers. “He gave me-he left-“ He flounders for a moment, then finds what he’s looking for. Bones examines the item in his palm curiously, turning it over. “What is it?” he asks, handing it to Jim.
“It’s an Ident-card,” Jim says, licking his lips as he looks at the small object. “For Leonard McCoy. It, uh, says you’re a doctor.” He feels his lips twitch in a grin. “My CMO, even.”
Bones-and it really is Bones now, Jim thinks with delight-looks confused for a moment, and then there’s a dawning light of realization. “Castiel, he-I’m human. For real this time.”
Jim starts to catch on as well, and he can barely believe it. “For good?”
“A mortal life. With you.” Bones smiles at him, and Jim knows that this is the way it was meant to be.
END.