Fic: Epi Pen (Slash, Star Trek XI, Kirk/McCoy, PG-13, Complete)
Oh no, another one. I can't stop writing about broken men whose name start with the letter "J". LOL
Title: Epi Pen (aka 5 Things Kirk Was Allergic To and the 1 Thing He Wasn't)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Fandom: Star Trek: Reboot'verse
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Words: 7,800+ words, Complete, betaed by iceiwynd (Thank you!)
Summary: He wants to make a move, but something of Jim's kept getting in the way…
Warnings: implied past abuse, strong language, fluffy smut (lol)
Author's Notes: This was a prompt from st_xi_kink from a while back. It has been revised, expanded and betaed since then.
This was a prompt from st_xi_kink:
Thanks to the scene of Kirk's violent reaction to the vaccine, I cannot shake the idea that he has a very delicate condition (for lack of better word). By this I mean he's allergic to almost everything. Barely a mission goes by where he doesn't come back from a planet with some new mystery affliction. And McCoy dutifully patches him up, his reactions differing according to the severity.
I feel like this would make a really good 5 Times style fic, and would love to see one. ♥ Or if you wanna go the drama/conflict-y plot way, maybe something in which Bones tries to pull some CMO strings to keep Jim on the ship more often instead of planetside on all their missions.
However you can work it, it's all good. I'm just dying to see can't-catch-a-break Kirk, allergic to EVERYTHING.
Anon, I hope this is everything you had hoped! Much love for the fun prompt!
Master Fic List: here
07.11.09 UPDATE: Fruit that couldn't be edited before on the st_xi_kink meme was updated and changed here. Hope it still works! :)
I. Mazentrocillin
Only Jim would be allergic to the mud flea vaccine; the odds of it he was pretty sure Spock would know (probably tell him too if asked), but even without that green-blooded walking computer, Bones knew it was pretty rare. Rare enough that he noted it with asterisks and bold fonts in Jim's medical file in case Jim had the misfortune of getting an incompetent doctor treating him (he tries to make sure that never happens, though, but it was better safe than sorry).
God damn away mission on a jungle-like class M planet. Of course Jim insisted on going down there because the bastard was still too young, too new sitting on that damn captain's chair to remember maybe it wasn't practical for a ship's captain to go exploring. But did Jim Kirk listen? Hell, no. And was he as careful as he'd promised Bones he would be? Fuck, no! Jim had to lunge too far, too quickly to yank Uhura off the crumbling edge and dropped ten feet below into a ravine himself. And cut his hand, right across the wrist, nearly down to the bone, bleeding out like a suicide.
"Forget Klingons and Romulans," Bones grumbled as he waved the dermal regenerator over the tiny stitches he made on Jim's wrist, now clean of the blood that spilled out despite Uhura's white-knuckled grip over the wound. Sometimes he felt more like a mother than his best friend as he slapped Jim's other hand away from indulging in that little boy's morbid fascination to poke at cuts and scabs.
"All they need for you to do is to stand still on a big red X and a satellite will probably fall on you." Bones rubbed a thumb over the raised healing pink line and tried not to think about how warm Jim's hand felt cradled in his.
"You're your own menace," Bones added gruffly. He brushed a palm over the scar that he knew would soon fade to join the other fading scars Jim never told him about. Bones was always afraid to ask. He asked once during their second year in the Academy. Jim never answered but that night, Bones had held his head up over the toilet after Jim nearly drank himself to death.
Bones never asked again.
"I prefer to think of it as mission-prone," Jim quipped and the smirk he gave Bones was grating on his nerves. It was the same one he usually gives Bones before leaving the bar with someone else, showing up at his dorm in the worse hours, doing something absolutely reckless, stupid and careless. It was the grin of the abashed, sheepish, but downright secure in the fact he'll be forgiven of anything by Bones. And damn that bastard, he usually is.
Bones rolled his eyes and before Jim could react, jabbed a hypospray under Kirk's left ear. He felt oddly vindicated when Jim started.
"Ouch!" Jim yelped. He nearly slid off the biobed until Bones settled a hand on his chest, halting his descent. Jim clapped a hand over his neck. "What was that for?"
For a lot of reasons, Bones thought, but out loud, he said, "Mazentrocillin. Antibiotic because God only knows what disease or bacteria you picked up down there."
"Spock deemed it fine," Jim laughed because he was never one to hold a grudge against Bones. "It's a virtual Eden. You should have gone down there with me, Bones."
Bones growled, more to exorcise the image of him and possibly a naked Jim down on a deserted paradise out of his head. His mouth went dry. "Sure, Jim. Maybe tempt me with an apple while you're at it," Bones muttered as he studied the wrist and watched the pink line, a blush across Jim's wrist, slowly erase from skin to its final white stripe.
"Uh, you can stop holding my hand now, Bones," Jim said with a chuckle. "I'm a big boy."
Bones realized he's been stroking the hand and the scars Jim wouldn't tell him about with his knuckles, up and down like those antique paintbrushes. He dropped the hand as if it burned him. Bones opened his mouth to give back some snappy remark when Jim's hand abruptly reached out and grabbed his.
"Bones..." Jim whispered.
Bones closed his eyes and swallowed. Ah hell. "Jim, listen, whatever you think it is, I-" He dared to raise his head. Almost immediately, he swore when he saw the tinge of gray on Jim's lips, his blue eyes shrunken to pinpoints.
Jim couldn't breathe.
"Ah, dammit!" Bones hollered for Nurse Chapel as he ducked under Jim, catching him as the young man sagged forward, wheezing.
He shouldn't have been surprised Jim was also allergic to mazentrocillin. It was only the most common antibiotic Earth developed after the MRSA pandemic of 2179.
II. Fruit Basket Case
"So is it a pear or an orange?"
Bones watched the misshaped round fruit, the color of an avocado and the bloated shape of a summer squash, bounce up and down in Jim's gloved palm, looking like a pockmarked ball ready to be thrown.
"According to the Ethurians," Bones griped and caught the collected sample in mid-air, "its fermentation process is like an Earth pear but it tastes like an orange-Not that you're trying it anyway!" Bones retreated a step before Jim could snag the fruit back.
"Why not?" Jim looked at Bones and made a face. And no, there was no way Jim Kirk could have pouted and no way it looked cute on him. Bones was tempted to throw the fruit at the pursed mouth if he wasn't certain it would kill him. Death by fruit. Jim would probably think it would be funny on his tombstone.
"B-because," Bones growled, harsher than necessary because he was trying to ignore that look. It begged for a blanket wrapped around Jim, a kiss on top of his hair and really, really dirty sex on the straw-like lining of the Ethurian equivalent of a barn. Jim said the structure reminded him of the barns in Iowa. (It didn't look like a happy reminder though so Bones tried to distract him by showing him all the samples the science teams had gathered. Big mistake.)
Jim rolled his eyes and did an elegant pugilist's sidestep to try and get the fruit back from Bones.
"No way!" Bones whipped around, fruit tucked behind him. He glowered at Jim. As usual, it had no effect.
"You're allergic to pears! Or don't you remember that turnover second year midterms?" Blasted girl with her big eyes and bigger bosom cajoled Jim into buying one of their new baked mixed fruit turnovers and no "Jim" (Bones nearly choked on his pastry at her vocal twitter) there's no pears in it. Just berries. Perfectly safe.
Two days of watching Jim choking on a respirator later, Bones was tempted to go back there and burn the bakery down. Her tits were probably fake, too.
Jim shrugged as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them besides the Starfleet standard sterile crate with the rest of the wrong shaped, wrong colored fruit and fauna. "Kind of. Something to do with a vaccine I had when I was ten that inadvertently made me allergic to pears. I think." Jim shrugged then brightened. "But I can't get lungworm, either," Jim offered with a grin.
"Bajorian Flu," Bones corrected him with a sigh. Leave it to Jim not to remember anything important relating to his own medical history. Yet, Jim always remembered Bones's divorce date and showed up at his doorstep every year with two huge jugs of illegal Romulan ale and three boxes of the best tasting pizza on campus.
Bones scowled and ducked when Jim darted to the left and nearly collided with his shoulder hard enough to make Jim bounce back a step and forcing Bones to lock his knees to stay upright.
"Dammit, Jim. You shouldn't be near this shit."
Jim huffed, giving up and stood there, his fists on his hips. "You just said it tastes like citrus."
"I also said its seeding process is like a pear."
"But it's not a pear," Jim pointed out because he wasn't about to lose an argument. He used to argue with his instructors all the time because Jim couldn't stomach any answer that was force-fed to him. "It's closer to an orange."
Bones glared at his kamikaze friend. "It's a pear."
Jim wagged a finger at him. "It tastes like an orange so it's an orange." He opened both palms and wiggled his fingers as he grinned. "Come on, the Ethurians said the fruit is their form of aphrodisiac."
Like Jim needed his libido exponentially increased. Bones stuffed it into his trouser pockets and it bulged uncomfortably against his inner thigh. Goddamn Starfleet issued uniform.
Jim whistled. His eyebrows rose. "Why, Doctor McCoy, is that an Ethurian tropical bisegmental fruit in your pocket or are you just happy to see your captain?"
Bones glared at him but Jim, as always, was more like a puppy on amphetamines. There was no stopping James T. Kirk once he's fixated on something, even as ridiculously stupid as a piece of fruit. "Look, as your doctor, my advice to you is-Jim!"
Like a cat stalking prey, rocking on the balls of his feet, Jim pounced towards Bones and ever mindful of Jim's health (because someone needed to be), Bones jumped back. And skidded on alien straw.
Jim's face went from mischief to alarm in an eye blink and he reached out an arm to grab Bones. Only he missed and with mutual arm flailing, boots skidding, the two collided and dropped onto the floor.
"Oops," Jim quipped breathlessly, lying on top of Bones, covering him with the length of his body and echoing too much like some of the more erotic dreams Bones had been having about Jim. Before Bones could stop him, Jim reached a hand into Bones' pocket (holyfuckgoddamnshit) and pulled the fruit out. He held it up with one hand, the other propping him up above Bones.
"Get off," Bones grumbled half-heartedly.
"Don't you want me to eat this first?" Jim smirked. He then paused. And looked down between them with his brow furrowed.
"You got one more in your pocket?"
Christ. Bones could feel a burn that originated from where his cock was now humping the firm ridged contours of Jim's stomach and rushing up to his ears. Great.
"Off," Bones grit out, relieved that he didn't squeak. "You're heavy."
Another pout that couldn't be a pout formed in reply. "So you're saying I'm fat now?"
Bones gripped Jim by the shoulders and shit, how easy would it be to roll Jim onto his back and kiss that pout (it's not a pout!) off that face?
"No, I think we should get that away from you. You're allergic to pears, Jim."
Jim scoffed and damn if it didn't make him press that more invitingly against Bones. "It's not a pear, otherwise even touching this would give me a rash." Jim paused, glanced down at the hand that held the fruit. He dropped the food and raised up a limp and now increasingly swollen hand.
"Like this one." Jim grinned sheepishly at Bones. "Guess it was a pear."
Bones didn't have time to gloat. His erection pretty much deflated when he rolled Jim around to lie flat on the floor, slapped a hypospray over Jim's fevered skin then asked Enterprise to beam them up, emergency transport.
III. Cheers
It was a long mission where the diplomats from the moon Tren IX didn't trust them and Starfleet still didn't trust Jim, despite him having saved the goddamn planet, and great, didn't this just made for the perfect recipe for a trade agreement?
Despite misgivings from both sides, Jim had charmed, flirted, and reasoned (that part astounded Spock) with the Trenians in a way that reminded Bones of their Academy days. It seemed Jim always had to convince someone of something. It wasn't fair sometimes.
Things were finally signed, hands were shook and celebrations were offered.
All. Month. Long.
It would be insulting, Jim had gleefully told Bones, smiling despite the smudges under his eyes from negotiations that went far too long (Trenians only need two hours’s sleep). The Trenians might take the Enterprise's absence as an insult.
"Can we go now?" Bones grumbled on their third night of partying on the ship. He hid in Jim's quarters after the sixth drunken-induced injury hobbled into his Sickbay and Nurse Chapel burst out laughing. She was still laughing when he left his shift, tears down her face when the entire ward began the worst rendition of "Henry the Eighth" he has ever heard. Who knew Scotty was that tone deaf?
Bones sat on the floor, his back against the side of Jim's bed. He had only stopped by to see if Jim was still having trouble sleeping. Sulu mentioned Jim had wandered into Gamma shift and stayed for that and his own. Idiot.
"There's still a week more of joy and jubilation we should stay for," Jim chided, distracted, as he studied the tray his yeoman brought in. He made a face. "Did Rand tell Mess to send everything up?"
"Just all the meals you've missed," Bones muttered as he pulled out his tricorder the moment Jim's back was turned. He frowned at the figures.
"Cut it out, I'm fine," Jim grumbled as he waved over his shoulder. "I can hear that thing from here."
"My tricorder tells me that you've lost seven pounds, your blood pressure is slightly below the last time I took it and your core temp is 1.9 Celsius below norm." Bones narrowed his eyes at his tricorder. "I should give you a vitamin shot." Or a cookie.
Jim scoffed. He pulled every lid off and scowled at all of them before selecting the smallest and worse choice of all.
"Oh, no you don't!" Bones growled, surging to his feet as soon as he sighted the pear in Jim's hands.
"Relax, I remembered to take the allergy shot this morning." Jim rubbed a spot on his neck in memory. "Every single fruit and nut allergen out there in one stinging hypospray." Jim polished the pear on his uniform. He held up the fruit and raised an eyebrow at Bones.
"Fine," Bones mumbled, "go get yourself splotchy and wheezy and killed. Enjoy." He kept his eyes on the tricorder as Jim took a large bite though. Bones looked up and wished he hadn't when Jim licked his lower lip of juice.
"I've always liked pears," Jim declared as he dropped down by Bones. "They're portable." He smirked and brandished a bottle Bones recognized was a gift from the Trenians. "So is this." There was a glee in the way Jim shook the faceted container, all carved out of a single quartz, transparent yet stronger than titanium. Starfleet salivated at the geological sample readings Spock sent.
"You shouldn't have that on an empty stomach," Bones warned as Jim poured out what Scotty said had the "bloody kick of a thousand mules in one wee glass".
Jim rolled his eyes, mimicked Bones, then took a deliberate bite of fruit. He crooked an eyebrow that read, "There. Happy?" His thumb slipped into his mouth as he sucked the dribbling juices clean off his fingers. Bones averted his eyes, counted how many PADDs Jim left lying around because Jim still read everything and anything related to his ship. Bones tossed him a napkin before Jim started licking his other fingers clean of pear and Bones gets dragged off to the brig for trying to do that for him. Jim burped, grinned sloppily and then nodded towards one shot glass which Bones took with an eye roll of his own.
Bones gagged when the drink boiled down his throat. "Shit," Bones wheezed. He set it down and fanned his mouth.
"Warms you up, huh?" Jim grinned but he gasps as well after his shot.
"Holy fuck," Jim yelped. "It's like drinking liquefied dilithium!" He screwed up his face and exhaled in a whoosh. Jim tilted the bottle up towards the ceiling and admired it with a mix of awe and delight. "I think I'm 1.9 Celsius above the norm now!" He sat back, his shoulder bumping Bones. He glanced over, his face flushed, his eyes overblown from-Christ-just one shot.
"More?" Jim lifted up the bottle, his mouth crooked to a smile usually reserved for the lucky person he was buying a drink for.
Bones tried not to think of that firm thigh rubbing against him. His stomach did somersaults and he was tempted to point the tricorder towards himself now. Instead, Bones sighed and raised his empty shot glass.
"Maybe one more."
Seven shots later...
"You're an idiot," Bones hiccupped.
"No, you're an idiot," Jim mumbled back as he slid back against Bones, his head a nice weight on Bones's shoulders. Bones grumbled, gave Jim a shove, a floppy palm pushing half-heartedly at Jim's shoulder. Jim retaliated, or tried, missing Bones entirely and landing halfway over his lap, nearly hitting his crotch with his chin.
"Get off," Bones mumbled and nudged Jim away. He fidgeted in his seat as he tried not to think about where Jim had landed.
"Cut it out," Jim complained, burped and poked Bones. Bones flicked him. Hard. "Ow. Bas-(hic)-tard."
"Ass'ole."
"W-wait…what were we ar'uing about?" Jim slurred.
"The t'eaty, S'ock, kit-(hic)-tens, who cares?" Bones grumbled and his head that wouldn't stay still drooped until his cheek rested on top of Jim's head. Mm. Felt nice. Jim's hair was surprisingly soft. Bones smiled lopsided into it.
Jim lifted up the bottle and squinted into it. "No more." Jim dropped it and watched the container roll away. He snorted and took another bite of his browning pear.
"Gimme," Bones demanded and after another crisp bite, Jim gave him the half-eaten pear. Well, shoved it towards his general direction anyway, snorting as it clipped Bones on the ear. Bones growled, snatched the fruit (took a few tries), and waved it at Jim.
"B'd for you," Bones scolded. He paused, his brow knitted. "...I t'ink...I don't re'ember..."
Jim grinned and leaned forward, his eyes glued to Bones as his hands cupped Bones's on the pear. Not looking away, he took a bite of fruit and smirked. The tip of his tongue, pink and moist, flicked out to swipe over his lower lip.
Bones stared, his head fuzzy, his groin heavy. Jim never dropped his hands from Bones's, but nudged their clasped hands lower. The pear no longer stood between them. Transfixed, Bones stared as Jim shuffled closer.
Blue eyes as deep as a Georgian summer sky measured him, looking oddly sober. After a moment, during which Bones barely breathed, Jim's eyes crinkled.
"You're pretty." Jim belched.
Bones gulped back a burp of his own. "Your breath smells bad." He bared his teeth. Jim let go of Bones's hands and dropped his head onto Bones's shoulder. Bones closed his eyes and he blames the alcohol for how reassuring Jim's weight feels against him, how hot his hands were when they had glided over his knuckles.
"T-this is why," Jim chortled below his chin, "I couldn't get you a g-girl in any of the bars we went to back t-then."
"Maybe I didn't 'ant a girl," Bones grumbled before he could stop himself. He froze when Jim jerked against him.
"Jesus, Bo'es, did I...did you wanted a guy?" Jim hiccupped and dammit, the tiny sound made Bones's toes curl. "You 'hould have said 'omething! I would have found-"
"No, I didn't want a guy," Bones snarled.
"But you just said-"
"I didn't want anyone else, I wanted you!"
Jim stilled, like a rabbit caught under a predator's eye. He lifted his head up, blue eyes large and dilated on his alcohol-flushed face, and considered him.
Fuuuuuuck.
"Oh," Jim just said. A rare small smile, a shy one that reminded Bones of how young Jim really is, slid across his lips. He sat up, swaying and stared at Bones. "Okay."
Bones muttered a prayer, looped an arm around Jim's middle and yanked him close enough for their chests to touch. He dipped his head and sealed his mouth over Jim's parted lips.
He tasted the sweetness of the pear, the bitter sourness of the alcohol, moist heat that wrapped slyly around his tongue as he could feel Jim's sure arms wrap around his shoulders, angling his body just so, his hips pressing against Bones in invitation. Smug bastard, Jim kissed as if it wasn't the first guy he kissed.
The idea made Bones growl into Jim's mouth and he crushed Jim closer to him, ground his covered erection into Jim's hip and felt Jim squirm in response, his hands now clenching the back of Bones's hair and moaning-fuck-moaning as he tried to straddle Bones. Bones felt their teeth clacked against each other. He nipped Jim's lower lip, licked an upturned corner of Jim's mouth. He felt Jim's approval rumble against his chest, fingers scratching lightly on Bones's shoulder blades.
When they finally parted, Bones felt like he'd sobered up far too quickly, his head screaming what an idiot he was.
"Well?" Bones tried. He stared at Jim warily.
Jim blinked once at him, opened his mouth, made a face then twisted away to stumble into the bathroom.
It wasn't that bad, was it?
The violent retching and Jim's weak "Bones" before his collapse sort of called for his attention.
Turns out pears and Trenian malted alcohol do not mix.
IV: Red's Your Color
"And how did this happen again?" Bones asked Uhura as he slowly swept the bone mender across her cracked knuckles. Shore leave always guarantees a full sickbay.
"Altercation gone bad," Uhura offered as she absently twirled the red and gold scarf loosely tied around her throat.
"Because..." Bones invited as he eyed the neck wear. He nodded towards it. "Nice."
"Their market has many colors," Uhura pulled it off to show him. It coyly wrapped around her nimble fingers and Bones thought he could smell something floral, sweet as it floated towards him. "Colors actually change with the wearer's skin temperature. Like those old Earth mood rings."
Bones absently let the material run through his fingers. It felt like cool water and the material wavered into a deep purple and swirls of white in his touch. He mused that his little girl would like this. He needed to buy gifts for the future, not the present and now. The next time they would possibly be back on Earth, she would be a young teen.
With an unavoidable pang, Bones set the gossamer material down on the bed and continued with his ministrations. He would have beamed down with the next shore leave party if it didn't mean talking to Jim about it first. Jim had woken up three days after his toxic mix of pears and ale and remembered not a single thing.
Dammit.
Uhura cleared her throat. "Uh, Doctor?"
Bones blinked and found himself under scrutiny. He coughed.
"Uh, you were saying?" Bones said gruffly. "Why the…altercation?"
"Harassment," Uhura sighed. The only sign her hand still hurt was a twitch of her eyebrow.
The person she must have learned it from spoke up next to her. "I do not recommend a repeat of such response, Lieutenant. We are here to represent Starfleet on Peneros and striking the Financial Secretary of-"
Bones nearly dropped his mender. "You hit the-Why?"
Uhura pursed her lips and gave Spock a pointed glance she did not learn from Spock.
"Wait, Spock, you were the one getting harassed?" Bones set the mender on the bed and leaned back on the adjacent one. Bones whistled and considered Uhura. The lieutenant pursed her lips.
"I was not being harassed," Spock said quite primly.
"No," Uhura agreed, "he was being pawed." She rolled her eyes.
"Their customs for greetings are different to ours. One must not confuse personal ties to professional-"
The double doors opened and Jim sailed through on maximum warp. He halted in front of Bones.
"You kissed me!" Jim announced, looking gleeful, too triumphant, very much like he'd discovered how to get the Enterprise to Warp 12.
Oh fuck, crap and dammit.
"Thank you for your assistance, doctor. I believe we are needed in the bridge," Spock said stiffly and damn the green-blooded coward for clasping Uhura's wrist (which caused her to yip "We are?") and dragged her in a very Vulcan-y way out the doors. Only Spock could make 'getting the hell out of here' look so dignified.
Bones stared blankly at the doors and realized the medbay was suddenly empty. Wait. Wasn't Sulu on that bed before for a broken toe? And where the hell did all his nurses go?
"Bones. Hello, do I need a universal translator?" Jim waved a hand in front of his face. He hopped onto the bed Uhura had been forcefully vacated from.
Bones looked at Jim. His mouth snapped shut. "I guess you remember," he said lamely.
Jim snorted and poked the scarf left behind with a finger. "Oh yea, right in the middle of a meeting with the High Council."
Bones groaned. "You mean..."
"Do you want to know what 'shit' means in their language?" Jim asked archly. He grabbed the scarf, blinking when it turned blue and black in his fist.
"Do you know how many generations of High Council I managed to insult when I-What the hell is this?" Jim burst out when the scarf bloomed gold, then orange, then green with rapid succession.
"Mood scarf," Bones said wearily. "Uhura's. Must have left it here. Look, Jim-"
Jim's shoulders slumped. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Bones sighed at the soft question and gazed up at Jim.
"Jim..." Bones shook his head.
"You were just going to let it go, never say anything?" Jim looked down at the scarf he wound around his hands, absently tugging it as if testing its strength. The scarf whimpered into a bleak gray, looking as dry as dust.
Bones heaved a sigh and covered his eyes with a hand. "Look, we were drunk and that kiss-"
"Was pretty good," Jim finished.
Bones's mouth crinkled upwards. A little. Something warm flared in his chest as he lowered his hand. "Yeah?"
Jim's grin was broad. He let go the scarf and rubbed his palm on his trousers.
"How long?" Jim asked. Almost immediately, he shook his head. "You know what? Never mind, I-"
"Day you showed up for my thirtieth birthday," Bones said, and maybe because it had been sitting in his gut for so long, it felt good to hear it out loud.
Bones shrugged. "It wasn't the greatest day, my ex wouldn't let me talk to my girl and I was pretty sure I was going to just get pissed by myself." Bones narrowed his eyes. "How did you find out my birthday anyway?"
Jim's shoulders rose then dropped. He grinned toothily.
Bones grunted. "Never mind." He gestured towards Jim. "You never gave any hint that you were into…you know."
"Neither did you," Jim pointed out. "Or..." Jim waggled his brow and damn if he didn't look smug. "Is it just me?"
Bones folded his arms and glared at Jim. He refused to feed his captain's ego. "Well, what about you?"
Jim absently knotted the scarf around his wrists. It went gold, to a blue like Jim's eyes before settling on a swirl of reds and shining silver. "Not sure when," Jim confessed. He shrugged. "I mean, you've always treated me like I wasn't some sort of fuck up."
"That's because you aren't," Bones cut in, his voice rough.
Jim scoffed but stopped fiddling with Uhura's scarf. His mouth upturned a little, a crook at the corner of his mouth.
"So," Bones tried because the smile was starting to fade, because whatever echoes Jim never shared always returned to destroy that smile. "Wasn't bad, huh?"
The smile broadened. Jim lifted his eyes and the smirk was there.
"I don't really remember much of it," Jim drawled. "I think you drooled a little."
Bones glowered at him. He straightened and stalked over to Jim, his arms down on either side of him on the biobed. He could feel Jim's knees digging into his belly but he didn't care. He studied the blue eyes bright and steady on him.
"So," Jim began with a lazy curve of his mouth, "was that a one time thing or is there-mmph."
Bones smashed his mouth over that smirk. Teeth clicked against each other once more, shoulders bumped and he heard Jim groan into his mouth. Bones said nothing but moved his hands up, wrapped them around the back of Jim's neck...
And staggered back, shaking his hands in the air.
"What the hell?" Bones exclaimed. He felt rough, bumpy, heated...stuff on the base of Jim's neck. He shook his hands and scrubbed them on his trousers.
Jim blinked, confused at Bones, mouth still partially opened and pursed. Jim frowned at Bones, rubbing his palm on his thigh. He paused and glanced down and recoiled at the tiny red blisters that made his palm look like a pile of salmon roe.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Jim groaned.
Bones agreed but said nothing as he chucked the scarf as far away from Jim as possible and grabbed the hydrocorbetzine. Then the betinaroid when Jim began to have trouble breathing. Again.
V. I scream, you scream, we all scream...
It was hard to ignore the sounds of pain curled up against his back, even if Jim was doing his best to make them sound more like snores. They weren't. Snores would imply sleep and for the past seventeen hours, that was the one thing that Jim Kirk couldn't do.
"Jim," Bones began from his perch at the edge of Jim's bed. Even in this state, Jim hogged the bed, curled in the center, spine a vibrating curved profile thrumming against the back of Bones's hips, currently substituting as a bed rail.
"Jim," Bones tried again.
"Forget it, Bones," Jim ground out. His throat was too raw from too much vomiting to put a sincere effort in arguing the merits of the hypospray Bones had cradled with both hands.
Bones twisted around to look at Jim over his shoulder. He wanted to smooth out the sweaty sheets twisted around Jim's legs like a fishing net.
"At least you'll sleep," Bones urged.
"But the..." Jim grunted and his shoulders round over his ears like a startled turtle. He left it unnamed, as if to diminish its power over him. "It'll still be there..."
Bones turned fully around, one leg now bent on the bed, his knee pressing with as little pressure as he could against Jim's back. For some reason, Jim said it had made the cramps ease off a little. Bones didn't care if Jim was just saying that to console him from the fact neither Bones's therkiptin or benedradrophyll had worked to ease the violent muscle spasms in his entire abdomen. If sitting here helped even a little, then nail him to the bed.
"I can't believe..." Jim grit out, "a fucking farmboy...from-dammit-fucking Iowa is allergic to ice cream!"
Bones grimaced as one spasm visible knotted the muscles on Jim's back; red, perspiring cords of muscle snaring around his middle like snakes.
"If it makes you feel better," Bones offered, "it wasn't ice cream. The Kefkines said the cream came from an animal Spock said was more bird than cattle."
"It doesn't."
Bones silently agreed. He hefted the hypospray in his hands and considered injecting Jim anyway with the sedative, give Jim a chance to sleep at least half a day, enough time to let the damn alien protein get filtered out of his bloodstream. But no, last time they tried, Jim nearly choked in his own vomit.
"I don't believe this," Jim panted. His right arm wrapped around his middle, his left pinned awkwardly under his own body.
"You have probably the most detailed and longest medical file in Starfleet," Bones grunted. "Shit, Jim, didn't you figure to get checked out for all these things before joining up?" Bones clamped his mouth shut. Idiot, Jim was recruited in a bar, ears still ringing when he sauntered into the shuttle with a bruised mottled face.
"Oh, and how the hell do you test for alien ice cream from an alien cow?" Jim snapped breathlessly.
"Bird."
"Fuck you."
Bones sighed, shook his head, feeling like any minute his head was going to roll off. "Just try to relax, okay? From your last bloodwork, it looks like your kidneys are trying to flush the proteins out and the rate it's going..." Bones took a deep breath, "it should just take another day."
Jim merely grunted. His face pressed into the mattress and fell silent.
Bones leaned back on one end of the bed and settled a loose hand on Jim's ankles, the other hand still curled around his hypospray.
"At least," Jim wheezed, "Spock knows I wasn't poisoned." His head, hair plastered around his skull, lifted then dropped.
"Uh...you did tell him, right?"
Bones rolled his eyes, reached over and nudged Jim's head back onto the bed.
"You don't hear torpedoes firing, do you?" Bones pointed out. "Spock was only kidding."
"Since when," Jim swallowed convulsively, "do Vulcans kid?"
Bones's brow knitted. "Need to throw up again?"
Jim just gave him a tight nod, his jaw set.
"All right. Just let me do all the work, okay? Relax."
Bones eased his arm around Jim's shoulders, one hand splayed across Jim's chest. Carefully he sat Jim up, saying nothing when Jim leaned a little more than he usually did against him.
"All right," Bones murmured into the matted hair as Jim panted. "Almost there." He reached for the bin by his feet and pulled it closer to the bed. His nostrils flared at the scent of lingering sick. He should have just asked Rand for a new bin.
Jim wasn't complaining, though. Bones guided his head towards the opening and as if he was waiting all this time, vomited almost immediately into it after a groan. A few minutes later, Jim slumped tiredly against Bones's shoulder. He looked half asleep. That usually didn’t last long though.
There wasn't much in the bin because Jim had already given up the dinner he had with the Kefkines' ruling family hours ago. But Bones checked the contents anyway. He narrowed his eyes at the pink streaks in the bile.
"Bones," Jim groaned at the quiet hiss against his throat. He weakly flapped an arm towards him.
"Just for your throat," Bones promised. "It feels sore, right?"
Jim nodded and curled closer to Bones in a way that reminded him of a cat his daughter once had. Damn fuzz ball was always burrowing for the warmest spot even in the summer. Used to shed all over his lap, but his little girl loved it at the shop he bought it from, adored it since it was a kitten so it stayed with her after the divorce.
Before his ex gave it away. She claimed the fur was making her sneeze.
"Better?" Bones asked and was rewarded with a sleepy nod. Something washed over him and he couldn't help but rub a knuckle against the line of Jim's jaw.
"Nice," Jim mumbled. His eyes closed, his fingers tentatively gathered folds of Bones's blue medical shirt.
"We never talked about that kiss," Jim slurred. "In'errupted..."
It looked like they weren't going to have a chance to talk about it here, either. But Bones smiled wryly to himself.
"What's to talk about? We got drunk. I kissed you. You threw up. End of story."
Jim scoffed, a sleepy snort that made Bones's mouth crinkled up unbidden.
"Why didn't you try be'ore?" Jim absently petted Bones's shirt over his belly.
Bones tried not to pull Jim closer to him. He could feel the cramps trembling down Jim's spine.
"Didn't think you wanted me to try." Bones gulped when Jim's palm slowly crept down his thigh, slipping in-between his legs and cupped the growing swell there. Bones closed his eyes and tried not to press himself into that warm hand.
"Does that mean you want me to kiss you again?" Bones managed.
Jim pressed his face into Bones's shirt, but couldn't hide the grimace.
"Would rather," Jim gasped, "you just f-fuck me but I know how you old 'uys like to start slo-God..."
"Hang on. Hang on," Bones murmured as he carefully eased Jim back down on the bed. He grabbed his medical kit and rummaged through it even as he kept looking over to Jim, curled and shaking on the bed. Bones kept missing the tube.
"Shit just s-set a phaser on k-kill and 'ut me out of my mi'ery," Jim grated out. He pulled his knees closer to his chest.
Bones uncapped the tube of salve, squeezing a good amount into his palm, all the while murmuring "Hold on, hold on." He was reluctant to try. God, it wasn't tested properly yet. It was a combination of every drug Bones knew Jim wasn't allergic to, part of a collection of cocktails Bones had been creating: Jim's own private medical kit.
Bones tugged Jim's shirt up. He winced at the cramps he could see clenching Jim's rigid stomach.
"What are you doing?" Jim jerked when Bones gingerly spread the salve across his stomach. "Cold."
"Give it a chance to heat up," Bones advised. He kept his eyes on the skin as he worked it into muscle. The tricorder resting against his hip chirped serenely. Thank God. "Good old fashioned horse ointment with a kick of painkiller courtesy of yours truly. Should relax the muscles and numb them for at least a short while. It's just temporary."
Jim blinked blearily at the wall as Bones rubbed in the cream. He scrunched up his face at the smell but before long, his eyelids slid shut in relief.
"Better?" Bones whispered, stooped over Jim as he continued to make small, slow circles into the firm muscles; deep, massaging circles. He could feel Jim relax little by little.
"Yeah." The response was almost a sigh. "Why the hell didn't you use this before?"
Bones snorted. "Do you want this or not?"
Jim's hand clasped over Bones's, stilling it.
"Hell, yeah," Jim slurred.
"Why do I get the feeling we're talking about something else now?" Bones grumbled. He tried to tug his hand free but Jim simply wove their fingers together. "Jim..."
"Stay," Jim yawned. "And explain to me why you didn't give me this smelly shit earlier?"
"Fuck you."
"Okay." Despite Jim's fatigue, the glee was still audible.
Bones rolled his eyes and begrudgingly settled on his side behind Jim and found Jim fitted next to him with ease. Legs settled against him, Jim's back flush against his chest, it...it was just perfect.
"Try to get some sleep," Bones said. He tried to keep his voice steady.
"Stay?" Jim yawned.
"You gonna give me my hand back?"
"Nope."
Bones kissed the back of Jim's neck and felt Jim press their combined hands closer to his stomach. He rested his chin on Jim's shoulder and released a breath slowly.
"Bones?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't count as a kiss."
"Shut up and get some sleep, Jim."
VI. Bones
It was decided that if they were going to do anything, anything at all, they should start it off with dinner. Something like back in the Academy: a few drinks, some food and maybe, possibly, well…if anything else came after, that would be pretty damn good.
At least that had been Jim's reasoning. He'd sent Bones a quick invite for dinner in his quarters. Jim sent it to his PADD along with an explicit stick figure drawing Jim had scribbled on the Bridge. Jim had failed Basic Art. Twice.
Bones then mistakenly sent it to Nurse Chapel along with his attached recommendations for Away Team Provisions.
He didn't realize until Scotty dropped him a note hours later asking if Bones could send him a copy. God damn it, Jim.
It was the responsibility of the CMO, Bones reasoned, to ensure the well being of the ship's captain. So it was logical (Spock would appreciate that) to request Mess to sterilize the plates and stemware, filter the drinking water once more, have the menu Jim had chosen reviewed for allergens and request a Decontamination J897-LK on Jim's quarters.
Yeah. Logical…
In a pig's eye.
When it was time for dinner, Bones had already reviewed the menu (twice), scrubbed his hands and face (damn Sulu and his damn 'I think this would interest you, doctor' pollen spitting alien purple plant), changed his shirt three times and arrived in time to see Jim gaping at his bed, a hand rubbing at his behind.
"Did you do this?" Jim mumbled as he absently rubbed the back of his sweatpants.
"What?" Bones said, distracted, his eyes riveted to where Jim's hand was. Bones was glad he didn't give into the urge to dress up. Jim would have laughed him out of his quarters.
"Bones." Jim's annoyed voice drew his eyes up. Jim pointed to his bed. "They placed a hypoallergenic, bio-filter force field on my bed."
Oh shit. Bones gawked at the bed and sure enough, there was the shimmer of a thin, isolation force field mocking him from Jim's bed.
"I came in," Jim grumbled, "grabbed a shower, changed and went to sit down on my bed and…" Jim opened his palms to simulate an explosion.
With a grimace, Bones reached under the bed, found the field's focal cell and turned it off. Okay, the J897-LK might have been overkill. He tilted his head up from his crouched position on the bed. Jim stood there with his arms folded across his chest.
"I think," Jim said slowly, "after staying here so long, I would have known if I was allergic to my own quarters. Geez, Bones." And just like that, Jim broke down into laughter, snorting, chuckling even as he sat down on the edge of his desk with a tiny "Ouch."
Bones grinned as he repositioned himself to sit cross-legged on the carpet. He tossed the field device over to Jim, who caught it easily with a fist, the other hand wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye.
"Should I be flattered or offended?" Jim gestured to his bed. "I mean, you're assuming that we're gonna be needing that bed after dinner." Jim eyed Bones with an unreadable expression, long enough that Bones was starting to sweat when Jim broke out in a big shit-eating grin.
Bones exhaled and glared up at Jim. "Dammit, Jim." His mouth twitched. "I just wanted to make sure we're not interrupted." He scratched his chin with a thumb. "Guess it looked desperate though."
"Just a little," Jim chortled, showing Bones his index and thumb barely touching.
Resting back against the bed, Bones grinned ruefully at Jim.
"So, flattered or offended?"
Jim's eyes softened, his mouth upturned. He rested his hands back as he looked at Bones.
"Flattered," Jim murmured, never looking away, "definitely flattered."
Bones hoped his smile wasn't as goofy as he was feeling right now.
The doorbell chimed and Bones's smile faded as Jim excused himself and bade Yeoman Rand to enter.
Hopefully, Jim would be just as flattered when he found out Bones swapped out the peanut butter pie with good ole, safe vanilla pudding.
Bones's fingers curled into Jim's hair. He tried to breathe through his nose, and it came out harsh, deep as he tried to stay sitting upright on the bed and not doubled over that sinful mouth. It was nothing like how he'd imagine, back in the day when he thought for sure it would only ever be in his imagination. It was more vivid here, the moist heat around him was boiling hot and every sound Jim made only made his blood rush louder in his ears.
No, nothing like how he imagined.
Teeth lightly grazed his cock, a tongue tracing the path and white flared behind Bones's eyes (he hadn't realized they were closed) as Jim tried his best to drain him and God, if Jim kept at it, Bones's brains were going out into that lush mouth of his.
His fingers curled tighter and Jim flinched but didn't pull back when Bones began to thrust into that mouth in earnest.
Dinner was on the table, still covered, probably cold by now. Bones had made sure everything on that damn tray was free of anything Jim could be allergic too. The plates were de-ionized before used, the god damn utensils were checked and not a single fucking pear, alien ice cream or mood scarf came near it.
They never ate dinner.
Come to think of it, did they even get to hello?
Something hot, wiry tight curled deep within his gut. Bones groaned, could feel Jim trying his best to deep-throat him (Christ, Jim wasn't kidding) and the feel of Jim's mouth working around him was just too much. Bones felt that knot of heat unravel. Jim twitched in surprise when Bones came but the sucking renewed as Jim tried to milk every last drop.
Bones swallowed and dropped back on the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.
"Did we go to warp?" Bones asked in a daze. He stared at Jim's ceiling and wouldn't you know it, somehow Jim had laser etched the bulkhead with the constellations from Earth's night sky. Damn kid needs a hobby.
"Well," Jim drawled as he climbed up to press his mouth over Bones's and the bitter, salty tang in his mouth made Bones flush.
"Least we know one thing for sure." Jim propped himself up with his right elbow to look at Bones.
"Oh?" Bones panted as he turned to look at Jim's flushed face. Impulsively, he reached a thumb over and flicked clean a trace spot of cum on the corner of Jim's mouth. He rubbed his thumb over Jim's lower lip, chuckling as he yanked it back before Jim could bite him.
"And what is it we know?" Bone murmured, his eyes tracing every line on Jim's face. Besides the fact dinner was a lost cause. Sleep too, probably.
Jim's smile was blinding. "That I'm not allergic to you."
Bones stared up at Jim before his eyes crinkled. Bones brushed a knuckle across Jim's jaw and Jim shone with a joy Bones hadn't seen since he found out the Enterprise would be his. It was humbling and scary.
"That's good to know," Bones murmured before he cupped the back of Jim's head and lowered him down. He met that mouth halfway.
The End
Title: Epi Pen (aka 5 Things Kirk Was Allergic To and the 1 Thing He Wasn't)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Fandom: Star Trek: Reboot'verse
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Words: 7,800+ words, Complete, betaed by iceiwynd (Thank you!)
Summary: He wants to make a move, but something of Jim's kept getting in the way…
Warnings: implied past abuse, strong language, fluffy smut (lol)
Author's Notes: This was a prompt from st_xi_kink from a while back. It has been revised, expanded and betaed since then.
This was a prompt from st_xi_kink:
Thanks to the scene of Kirk's violent reaction to the vaccine, I cannot shake the idea that he has a very delicate condition (for lack of better word). By this I mean he's allergic to almost everything. Barely a mission goes by where he doesn't come back from a planet with some new mystery affliction. And McCoy dutifully patches him up, his reactions differing according to the severity.
I feel like this would make a really good 5 Times style fic, and would love to see one. ♥ Or if you wanna go the drama/conflict-y plot way, maybe something in which Bones tries to pull some CMO strings to keep Jim on the ship more often instead of planetside on all their missions.
However you can work it, it's all good. I'm just dying to see can't-catch-a-break Kirk, allergic to EVERYTHING.
Anon, I hope this is everything you had hoped! Much love for the fun prompt!
Master Fic List: here
07.11.09 UPDATE: Fruit that couldn't be edited before on the st_xi_kink meme was updated and changed here. Hope it still works! :)
I. Mazentrocillin
Only Jim would be allergic to the mud flea vaccine; the odds of it he was pretty sure Spock would know (probably tell him too if asked), but even without that green-blooded walking computer, Bones knew it was pretty rare. Rare enough that he noted it with asterisks and bold fonts in Jim's medical file in case Jim had the misfortune of getting an incompetent doctor treating him (he tries to make sure that never happens, though, but it was better safe than sorry).
God damn away mission on a jungle-like class M planet. Of course Jim insisted on going down there because the bastard was still too young, too new sitting on that damn captain's chair to remember maybe it wasn't practical for a ship's captain to go exploring. But did Jim Kirk listen? Hell, no. And was he as careful as he'd promised Bones he would be? Fuck, no! Jim had to lunge too far, too quickly to yank Uhura off the crumbling edge and dropped ten feet below into a ravine himself. And cut his hand, right across the wrist, nearly down to the bone, bleeding out like a suicide.
"Forget Klingons and Romulans," Bones grumbled as he waved the dermal regenerator over the tiny stitches he made on Jim's wrist, now clean of the blood that spilled out despite Uhura's white-knuckled grip over the wound. Sometimes he felt more like a mother than his best friend as he slapped Jim's other hand away from indulging in that little boy's morbid fascination to poke at cuts and scabs.
"All they need for you to do is to stand still on a big red X and a satellite will probably fall on you." Bones rubbed a thumb over the raised healing pink line and tried not to think about how warm Jim's hand felt cradled in his.
"You're your own menace," Bones added gruffly. He brushed a palm over the scar that he knew would soon fade to join the other fading scars Jim never told him about. Bones was always afraid to ask. He asked once during their second year in the Academy. Jim never answered but that night, Bones had held his head up over the toilet after Jim nearly drank himself to death.
Bones never asked again.
"I prefer to think of it as mission-prone," Jim quipped and the smirk he gave Bones was grating on his nerves. It was the same one he usually gives Bones before leaving the bar with someone else, showing up at his dorm in the worse hours, doing something absolutely reckless, stupid and careless. It was the grin of the abashed, sheepish, but downright secure in the fact he'll be forgiven of anything by Bones. And damn that bastard, he usually is.
Bones rolled his eyes and before Jim could react, jabbed a hypospray under Kirk's left ear. He felt oddly vindicated when Jim started.
"Ouch!" Jim yelped. He nearly slid off the biobed until Bones settled a hand on his chest, halting his descent. Jim clapped a hand over his neck. "What was that for?"
For a lot of reasons, Bones thought, but out loud, he said, "Mazentrocillin. Antibiotic because God only knows what disease or bacteria you picked up down there."
"Spock deemed it fine," Jim laughed because he was never one to hold a grudge against Bones. "It's a virtual Eden. You should have gone down there with me, Bones."
Bones growled, more to exorcise the image of him and possibly a naked Jim down on a deserted paradise out of his head. His mouth went dry. "Sure, Jim. Maybe tempt me with an apple while you're at it," Bones muttered as he studied the wrist and watched the pink line, a blush across Jim's wrist, slowly erase from skin to its final white stripe.
"Uh, you can stop holding my hand now, Bones," Jim said with a chuckle. "I'm a big boy."
Bones realized he's been stroking the hand and the scars Jim wouldn't tell him about with his knuckles, up and down like those antique paintbrushes. He dropped the hand as if it burned him. Bones opened his mouth to give back some snappy remark when Jim's hand abruptly reached out and grabbed his.
"Bones..." Jim whispered.
Bones closed his eyes and swallowed. Ah hell. "Jim, listen, whatever you think it is, I-" He dared to raise his head. Almost immediately, he swore when he saw the tinge of gray on Jim's lips, his blue eyes shrunken to pinpoints.
Jim couldn't breathe.
"Ah, dammit!" Bones hollered for Nurse Chapel as he ducked under Jim, catching him as the young man sagged forward, wheezing.
He shouldn't have been surprised Jim was also allergic to mazentrocillin. It was only the most common antibiotic Earth developed after the MRSA pandemic of 2179.
II. Fruit Basket Case
"So is it a pear or an orange?"
Bones watched the misshaped round fruit, the color of an avocado and the bloated shape of a summer squash, bounce up and down in Jim's gloved palm, looking like a pockmarked ball ready to be thrown.
"According to the Ethurians," Bones griped and caught the collected sample in mid-air, "its fermentation process is like an Earth pear but it tastes like an orange-Not that you're trying it anyway!" Bones retreated a step before Jim could snag the fruit back.
"Why not?" Jim looked at Bones and made a face. And no, there was no way Jim Kirk could have pouted and no way it looked cute on him. Bones was tempted to throw the fruit at the pursed mouth if he wasn't certain it would kill him. Death by fruit. Jim would probably think it would be funny on his tombstone.
"B-because," Bones growled, harsher than necessary because he was trying to ignore that look. It begged for a blanket wrapped around Jim, a kiss on top of his hair and really, really dirty sex on the straw-like lining of the Ethurian equivalent of a barn. Jim said the structure reminded him of the barns in Iowa. (It didn't look like a happy reminder though so Bones tried to distract him by showing him all the samples the science teams had gathered. Big mistake.)
Jim rolled his eyes and did an elegant pugilist's sidestep to try and get the fruit back from Bones.
"No way!" Bones whipped around, fruit tucked behind him. He glowered at Jim. As usual, it had no effect.
"You're allergic to pears! Or don't you remember that turnover second year midterms?" Blasted girl with her big eyes and bigger bosom cajoled Jim into buying one of their new baked mixed fruit turnovers and no "Jim" (Bones nearly choked on his pastry at her vocal twitter) there's no pears in it. Just berries. Perfectly safe.
Two days of watching Jim choking on a respirator later, Bones was tempted to go back there and burn the bakery down. Her tits were probably fake, too.
Jim shrugged as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them besides the Starfleet standard sterile crate with the rest of the wrong shaped, wrong colored fruit and fauna. "Kind of. Something to do with a vaccine I had when I was ten that inadvertently made me allergic to pears. I think." Jim shrugged then brightened. "But I can't get lungworm, either," Jim offered with a grin.
"Bajorian Flu," Bones corrected him with a sigh. Leave it to Jim not to remember anything important relating to his own medical history. Yet, Jim always remembered Bones's divorce date and showed up at his doorstep every year with two huge jugs of illegal Romulan ale and three boxes of the best tasting pizza on campus.
Bones scowled and ducked when Jim darted to the left and nearly collided with his shoulder hard enough to make Jim bounce back a step and forcing Bones to lock his knees to stay upright.
"Dammit, Jim. You shouldn't be near this shit."
Jim huffed, giving up and stood there, his fists on his hips. "You just said it tastes like citrus."
"I also said its seeding process is like a pear."
"But it's not a pear," Jim pointed out because he wasn't about to lose an argument. He used to argue with his instructors all the time because Jim couldn't stomach any answer that was force-fed to him. "It's closer to an orange."
Bones glared at his kamikaze friend. "It's a pear."
Jim wagged a finger at him. "It tastes like an orange so it's an orange." He opened both palms and wiggled his fingers as he grinned. "Come on, the Ethurians said the fruit is their form of aphrodisiac."
Like Jim needed his libido exponentially increased. Bones stuffed it into his trouser pockets and it bulged uncomfortably against his inner thigh. Goddamn Starfleet issued uniform.
Jim whistled. His eyebrows rose. "Why, Doctor McCoy, is that an Ethurian tropical bisegmental fruit in your pocket or are you just happy to see your captain?"
Bones glared at him but Jim, as always, was more like a puppy on amphetamines. There was no stopping James T. Kirk once he's fixated on something, even as ridiculously stupid as a piece of fruit. "Look, as your doctor, my advice to you is-Jim!"
Like a cat stalking prey, rocking on the balls of his feet, Jim pounced towards Bones and ever mindful of Jim's health (because someone needed to be), Bones jumped back. And skidded on alien straw.
Jim's face went from mischief to alarm in an eye blink and he reached out an arm to grab Bones. Only he missed and with mutual arm flailing, boots skidding, the two collided and dropped onto the floor.
"Oops," Jim quipped breathlessly, lying on top of Bones, covering him with the length of his body and echoing too much like some of the more erotic dreams Bones had been having about Jim. Before Bones could stop him, Jim reached a hand into Bones' pocket (holyfuckgoddamnshit) and pulled the fruit out. He held it up with one hand, the other propping him up above Bones.
"Get off," Bones grumbled half-heartedly.
"Don't you want me to eat this first?" Jim smirked. He then paused. And looked down between them with his brow furrowed.
"You got one more in your pocket?"
Christ. Bones could feel a burn that originated from where his cock was now humping the firm ridged contours of Jim's stomach and rushing up to his ears. Great.
"Off," Bones grit out, relieved that he didn't squeak. "You're heavy."
Another pout that couldn't be a pout formed in reply. "So you're saying I'm fat now?"
Bones gripped Jim by the shoulders and shit, how easy would it be to roll Jim onto his back and kiss that pout (it's not a pout!) off that face?
"No, I think we should get that away from you. You're allergic to pears, Jim."
Jim scoffed and damn if it didn't make him press that more invitingly against Bones. "It's not a pear, otherwise even touching this would give me a rash." Jim paused, glanced down at the hand that held the fruit. He dropped the food and raised up a limp and now increasingly swollen hand.
"Like this one." Jim grinned sheepishly at Bones. "Guess it was a pear."
Bones didn't have time to gloat. His erection pretty much deflated when he rolled Jim around to lie flat on the floor, slapped a hypospray over Jim's fevered skin then asked Enterprise to beam them up, emergency transport.
III. Cheers
It was a long mission where the diplomats from the moon Tren IX didn't trust them and Starfleet still didn't trust Jim, despite him having saved the goddamn planet, and great, didn't this just made for the perfect recipe for a trade agreement?
Despite misgivings from both sides, Jim had charmed, flirted, and reasoned (that part astounded Spock) with the Trenians in a way that reminded Bones of their Academy days. It seemed Jim always had to convince someone of something. It wasn't fair sometimes.
Things were finally signed, hands were shook and celebrations were offered.
All. Month. Long.
It would be insulting, Jim had gleefully told Bones, smiling despite the smudges under his eyes from negotiations that went far too long (Trenians only need two hours’s sleep). The Trenians might take the Enterprise's absence as an insult.
"Can we go now?" Bones grumbled on their third night of partying on the ship. He hid in Jim's quarters after the sixth drunken-induced injury hobbled into his Sickbay and Nurse Chapel burst out laughing. She was still laughing when he left his shift, tears down her face when the entire ward began the worst rendition of "Henry the Eighth" he has ever heard. Who knew Scotty was that tone deaf?
Bones sat on the floor, his back against the side of Jim's bed. He had only stopped by to see if Jim was still having trouble sleeping. Sulu mentioned Jim had wandered into Gamma shift and stayed for that and his own. Idiot.
"There's still a week more of joy and jubilation we should stay for," Jim chided, distracted, as he studied the tray his yeoman brought in. He made a face. "Did Rand tell Mess to send everything up?"
"Just all the meals you've missed," Bones muttered as he pulled out his tricorder the moment Jim's back was turned. He frowned at the figures.
"Cut it out, I'm fine," Jim grumbled as he waved over his shoulder. "I can hear that thing from here."
"My tricorder tells me that you've lost seven pounds, your blood pressure is slightly below the last time I took it and your core temp is 1.9 Celsius below norm." Bones narrowed his eyes at his tricorder. "I should give you a vitamin shot." Or a cookie.
Jim scoffed. He pulled every lid off and scowled at all of them before selecting the smallest and worse choice of all.
"Oh, no you don't!" Bones growled, surging to his feet as soon as he sighted the pear in Jim's hands.
"Relax, I remembered to take the allergy shot this morning." Jim rubbed a spot on his neck in memory. "Every single fruit and nut allergen out there in one stinging hypospray." Jim polished the pear on his uniform. He held up the fruit and raised an eyebrow at Bones.
"Fine," Bones mumbled, "go get yourself splotchy and wheezy and killed. Enjoy." He kept his eyes on the tricorder as Jim took a large bite though. Bones looked up and wished he hadn't when Jim licked his lower lip of juice.
"I've always liked pears," Jim declared as he dropped down by Bones. "They're portable." He smirked and brandished a bottle Bones recognized was a gift from the Trenians. "So is this." There was a glee in the way Jim shook the faceted container, all carved out of a single quartz, transparent yet stronger than titanium. Starfleet salivated at the geological sample readings Spock sent.
"You shouldn't have that on an empty stomach," Bones warned as Jim poured out what Scotty said had the "bloody kick of a thousand mules in one wee glass".
Jim rolled his eyes, mimicked Bones, then took a deliberate bite of fruit. He crooked an eyebrow that read, "There. Happy?" His thumb slipped into his mouth as he sucked the dribbling juices clean off his fingers. Bones averted his eyes, counted how many PADDs Jim left lying around because Jim still read everything and anything related to his ship. Bones tossed him a napkin before Jim started licking his other fingers clean of pear and Bones gets dragged off to the brig for trying to do that for him. Jim burped, grinned sloppily and then nodded towards one shot glass which Bones took with an eye roll of his own.
Bones gagged when the drink boiled down his throat. "Shit," Bones wheezed. He set it down and fanned his mouth.
"Warms you up, huh?" Jim grinned but he gasps as well after his shot.
"Holy fuck," Jim yelped. "It's like drinking liquefied dilithium!" He screwed up his face and exhaled in a whoosh. Jim tilted the bottle up towards the ceiling and admired it with a mix of awe and delight. "I think I'm 1.9 Celsius above the norm now!" He sat back, his shoulder bumping Bones. He glanced over, his face flushed, his eyes overblown from-Christ-just one shot.
"More?" Jim lifted up the bottle, his mouth crooked to a smile usually reserved for the lucky person he was buying a drink for.
Bones tried not to think of that firm thigh rubbing against him. His stomach did somersaults and he was tempted to point the tricorder towards himself now. Instead, Bones sighed and raised his empty shot glass.
"Maybe one more."
Seven shots later...
"You're an idiot," Bones hiccupped.
"No, you're an idiot," Jim mumbled back as he slid back against Bones, his head a nice weight on Bones's shoulders. Bones grumbled, gave Jim a shove, a floppy palm pushing half-heartedly at Jim's shoulder. Jim retaliated, or tried, missing Bones entirely and landing halfway over his lap, nearly hitting his crotch with his chin.
"Get off," Bones mumbled and nudged Jim away. He fidgeted in his seat as he tried not to think about where Jim had landed.
"Cut it out," Jim complained, burped and poked Bones. Bones flicked him. Hard. "Ow. Bas-(hic)-tard."
"Ass'ole."
"W-wait…what were we ar'uing about?" Jim slurred.
"The t'eaty, S'ock, kit-(hic)-tens, who cares?" Bones grumbled and his head that wouldn't stay still drooped until his cheek rested on top of Jim's head. Mm. Felt nice. Jim's hair was surprisingly soft. Bones smiled lopsided into it.
Jim lifted up the bottle and squinted into it. "No more." Jim dropped it and watched the container roll away. He snorted and took another bite of his browning pear.
"Gimme," Bones demanded and after another crisp bite, Jim gave him the half-eaten pear. Well, shoved it towards his general direction anyway, snorting as it clipped Bones on the ear. Bones growled, snatched the fruit (took a few tries), and waved it at Jim.
"B'd for you," Bones scolded. He paused, his brow knitted. "...I t'ink...I don't re'ember..."
Jim grinned and leaned forward, his eyes glued to Bones as his hands cupped Bones's on the pear. Not looking away, he took a bite of fruit and smirked. The tip of his tongue, pink and moist, flicked out to swipe over his lower lip.
Bones stared, his head fuzzy, his groin heavy. Jim never dropped his hands from Bones's, but nudged their clasped hands lower. The pear no longer stood between them. Transfixed, Bones stared as Jim shuffled closer.
Blue eyes as deep as a Georgian summer sky measured him, looking oddly sober. After a moment, during which Bones barely breathed, Jim's eyes crinkled.
"You're pretty." Jim belched.
Bones gulped back a burp of his own. "Your breath smells bad." He bared his teeth. Jim let go of Bones's hands and dropped his head onto Bones's shoulder. Bones closed his eyes and he blames the alcohol for how reassuring Jim's weight feels against him, how hot his hands were when they had glided over his knuckles.
"T-this is why," Jim chortled below his chin, "I couldn't get you a g-girl in any of the bars we went to back t-then."
"Maybe I didn't 'ant a girl," Bones grumbled before he could stop himself. He froze when Jim jerked against him.
"Jesus, Bo'es, did I...did you wanted a guy?" Jim hiccupped and dammit, the tiny sound made Bones's toes curl. "You 'hould have said 'omething! I would have found-"
"No, I didn't want a guy," Bones snarled.
"But you just said-"
"I didn't want anyone else, I wanted you!"
Jim stilled, like a rabbit caught under a predator's eye. He lifted his head up, blue eyes large and dilated on his alcohol-flushed face, and considered him.
Fuuuuuuck.
"Oh," Jim just said. A rare small smile, a shy one that reminded Bones of how young Jim really is, slid across his lips. He sat up, swaying and stared at Bones. "Okay."
Bones muttered a prayer, looped an arm around Jim's middle and yanked him close enough for their chests to touch. He dipped his head and sealed his mouth over Jim's parted lips.
He tasted the sweetness of the pear, the bitter sourness of the alcohol, moist heat that wrapped slyly around his tongue as he could feel Jim's sure arms wrap around his shoulders, angling his body just so, his hips pressing against Bones in invitation. Smug bastard, Jim kissed as if it wasn't the first guy he kissed.
The idea made Bones growl into Jim's mouth and he crushed Jim closer to him, ground his covered erection into Jim's hip and felt Jim squirm in response, his hands now clenching the back of Bones's hair and moaning-fuck-moaning as he tried to straddle Bones. Bones felt their teeth clacked against each other. He nipped Jim's lower lip, licked an upturned corner of Jim's mouth. He felt Jim's approval rumble against his chest, fingers scratching lightly on Bones's shoulder blades.
When they finally parted, Bones felt like he'd sobered up far too quickly, his head screaming what an idiot he was.
"Well?" Bones tried. He stared at Jim warily.
Jim blinked once at him, opened his mouth, made a face then twisted away to stumble into the bathroom.
It wasn't that bad, was it?
The violent retching and Jim's weak "Bones" before his collapse sort of called for his attention.
Turns out pears and Trenian malted alcohol do not mix.
IV: Red's Your Color
"And how did this happen again?" Bones asked Uhura as he slowly swept the bone mender across her cracked knuckles. Shore leave always guarantees a full sickbay.
"Altercation gone bad," Uhura offered as she absently twirled the red and gold scarf loosely tied around her throat.
"Because..." Bones invited as he eyed the neck wear. He nodded towards it. "Nice."
"Their market has many colors," Uhura pulled it off to show him. It coyly wrapped around her nimble fingers and Bones thought he could smell something floral, sweet as it floated towards him. "Colors actually change with the wearer's skin temperature. Like those old Earth mood rings."
Bones absently let the material run through his fingers. It felt like cool water and the material wavered into a deep purple and swirls of white in his touch. He mused that his little girl would like this. He needed to buy gifts for the future, not the present and now. The next time they would possibly be back on Earth, she would be a young teen.
With an unavoidable pang, Bones set the gossamer material down on the bed and continued with his ministrations. He would have beamed down with the next shore leave party if it didn't mean talking to Jim about it first. Jim had woken up three days after his toxic mix of pears and ale and remembered not a single thing.
Dammit.
Uhura cleared her throat. "Uh, Doctor?"
Bones blinked and found himself under scrutiny. He coughed.
"Uh, you were saying?" Bones said gruffly. "Why the…altercation?"
"Harassment," Uhura sighed. The only sign her hand still hurt was a twitch of her eyebrow.
The person she must have learned it from spoke up next to her. "I do not recommend a repeat of such response, Lieutenant. We are here to represent Starfleet on Peneros and striking the Financial Secretary of-"
Bones nearly dropped his mender. "You hit the-Why?"
Uhura pursed her lips and gave Spock a pointed glance she did not learn from Spock.
"Wait, Spock, you were the one getting harassed?" Bones set the mender on the bed and leaned back on the adjacent one. Bones whistled and considered Uhura. The lieutenant pursed her lips.
"I was not being harassed," Spock said quite primly.
"No," Uhura agreed, "he was being pawed." She rolled her eyes.
"Their customs for greetings are different to ours. One must not confuse personal ties to professional-"
The double doors opened and Jim sailed through on maximum warp. He halted in front of Bones.
"You kissed me!" Jim announced, looking gleeful, too triumphant, very much like he'd discovered how to get the Enterprise to Warp 12.
Oh fuck, crap and dammit.
"Thank you for your assistance, doctor. I believe we are needed in the bridge," Spock said stiffly and damn the green-blooded coward for clasping Uhura's wrist (which caused her to yip "We are?") and dragged her in a very Vulcan-y way out the doors. Only Spock could make 'getting the hell out of here' look so dignified.
Bones stared blankly at the doors and realized the medbay was suddenly empty. Wait. Wasn't Sulu on that bed before for a broken toe? And where the hell did all his nurses go?
"Bones. Hello, do I need a universal translator?" Jim waved a hand in front of his face. He hopped onto the bed Uhura had been forcefully vacated from.
Bones looked at Jim. His mouth snapped shut. "I guess you remember," he said lamely.
Jim snorted and poked the scarf left behind with a finger. "Oh yea, right in the middle of a meeting with the High Council."
Bones groaned. "You mean..."
"Do you want to know what 'shit' means in their language?" Jim asked archly. He grabbed the scarf, blinking when it turned blue and black in his fist.
"Do you know how many generations of High Council I managed to insult when I-What the hell is this?" Jim burst out when the scarf bloomed gold, then orange, then green with rapid succession.
"Mood scarf," Bones said wearily. "Uhura's. Must have left it here. Look, Jim-"
Jim's shoulders slumped. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Bones sighed at the soft question and gazed up at Jim.
"Jim..." Bones shook his head.
"You were just going to let it go, never say anything?" Jim looked down at the scarf he wound around his hands, absently tugging it as if testing its strength. The scarf whimpered into a bleak gray, looking as dry as dust.
Bones heaved a sigh and covered his eyes with a hand. "Look, we were drunk and that kiss-"
"Was pretty good," Jim finished.
Bones's mouth crinkled upwards. A little. Something warm flared in his chest as he lowered his hand. "Yeah?"
Jim's grin was broad. He let go the scarf and rubbed his palm on his trousers.
"How long?" Jim asked. Almost immediately, he shook his head. "You know what? Never mind, I-"
"Day you showed up for my thirtieth birthday," Bones said, and maybe because it had been sitting in his gut for so long, it felt good to hear it out loud.
Bones shrugged. "It wasn't the greatest day, my ex wouldn't let me talk to my girl and I was pretty sure I was going to just get pissed by myself." Bones narrowed his eyes. "How did you find out my birthday anyway?"
Jim's shoulders rose then dropped. He grinned toothily.
Bones grunted. "Never mind." He gestured towards Jim. "You never gave any hint that you were into…you know."
"Neither did you," Jim pointed out. "Or..." Jim waggled his brow and damn if he didn't look smug. "Is it just me?"
Bones folded his arms and glared at Jim. He refused to feed his captain's ego. "Well, what about you?"
Jim absently knotted the scarf around his wrists. It went gold, to a blue like Jim's eyes before settling on a swirl of reds and shining silver. "Not sure when," Jim confessed. He shrugged. "I mean, you've always treated me like I wasn't some sort of fuck up."
"That's because you aren't," Bones cut in, his voice rough.
Jim scoffed but stopped fiddling with Uhura's scarf. His mouth upturned a little, a crook at the corner of his mouth.
"So," Bones tried because the smile was starting to fade, because whatever echoes Jim never shared always returned to destroy that smile. "Wasn't bad, huh?"
The smile broadened. Jim lifted his eyes and the smirk was there.
"I don't really remember much of it," Jim drawled. "I think you drooled a little."
Bones glowered at him. He straightened and stalked over to Jim, his arms down on either side of him on the biobed. He could feel Jim's knees digging into his belly but he didn't care. He studied the blue eyes bright and steady on him.
"So," Jim began with a lazy curve of his mouth, "was that a one time thing or is there-mmph."
Bones smashed his mouth over that smirk. Teeth clicked against each other once more, shoulders bumped and he heard Jim groan into his mouth. Bones said nothing but moved his hands up, wrapped them around the back of Jim's neck...
And staggered back, shaking his hands in the air.
"What the hell?" Bones exclaimed. He felt rough, bumpy, heated...stuff on the base of Jim's neck. He shook his hands and scrubbed them on his trousers.
Jim blinked, confused at Bones, mouth still partially opened and pursed. Jim frowned at Bones, rubbing his palm on his thigh. He paused and glanced down and recoiled at the tiny red blisters that made his palm look like a pile of salmon roe.
"Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Jim groaned.
Bones agreed but said nothing as he chucked the scarf as far away from Jim as possible and grabbed the hydrocorbetzine. Then the betinaroid when Jim began to have trouble breathing. Again.
V. I scream, you scream, we all scream...
It was hard to ignore the sounds of pain curled up against his back, even if Jim was doing his best to make them sound more like snores. They weren't. Snores would imply sleep and for the past seventeen hours, that was the one thing that Jim Kirk couldn't do.
"Jim," Bones began from his perch at the edge of Jim's bed. Even in this state, Jim hogged the bed, curled in the center, spine a vibrating curved profile thrumming against the back of Bones's hips, currently substituting as a bed rail.
"Jim," Bones tried again.
"Forget it, Bones," Jim ground out. His throat was too raw from too much vomiting to put a sincere effort in arguing the merits of the hypospray Bones had cradled with both hands.
Bones twisted around to look at Jim over his shoulder. He wanted to smooth out the sweaty sheets twisted around Jim's legs like a fishing net.
"At least you'll sleep," Bones urged.
"But the..." Jim grunted and his shoulders round over his ears like a startled turtle. He left it unnamed, as if to diminish its power over him. "It'll still be there..."
Bones turned fully around, one leg now bent on the bed, his knee pressing with as little pressure as he could against Jim's back. For some reason, Jim said it had made the cramps ease off a little. Bones didn't care if Jim was just saying that to console him from the fact neither Bones's therkiptin or benedradrophyll had worked to ease the violent muscle spasms in his entire abdomen. If sitting here helped even a little, then nail him to the bed.
"I can't believe..." Jim grit out, "a fucking farmboy...from-dammit-fucking Iowa is allergic to ice cream!"
Bones grimaced as one spasm visible knotted the muscles on Jim's back; red, perspiring cords of muscle snaring around his middle like snakes.
"If it makes you feel better," Bones offered, "it wasn't ice cream. The Kefkines said the cream came from an animal Spock said was more bird than cattle."
"It doesn't."
Bones silently agreed. He hefted the hypospray in his hands and considered injecting Jim anyway with the sedative, give Jim a chance to sleep at least half a day, enough time to let the damn alien protein get filtered out of his bloodstream. But no, last time they tried, Jim nearly choked in his own vomit.
"I don't believe this," Jim panted. His right arm wrapped around his middle, his left pinned awkwardly under his own body.
"You have probably the most detailed and longest medical file in Starfleet," Bones grunted. "Shit, Jim, didn't you figure to get checked out for all these things before joining up?" Bones clamped his mouth shut. Idiot, Jim was recruited in a bar, ears still ringing when he sauntered into the shuttle with a bruised mottled face.
"Oh, and how the hell do you test for alien ice cream from an alien cow?" Jim snapped breathlessly.
"Bird."
"Fuck you."
Bones sighed, shook his head, feeling like any minute his head was going to roll off. "Just try to relax, okay? From your last bloodwork, it looks like your kidneys are trying to flush the proteins out and the rate it's going..." Bones took a deep breath, "it should just take another day."
Jim merely grunted. His face pressed into the mattress and fell silent.
Bones leaned back on one end of the bed and settled a loose hand on Jim's ankles, the other hand still curled around his hypospray.
"At least," Jim wheezed, "Spock knows I wasn't poisoned." His head, hair plastered around his skull, lifted then dropped.
"Uh...you did tell him, right?"
Bones rolled his eyes, reached over and nudged Jim's head back onto the bed.
"You don't hear torpedoes firing, do you?" Bones pointed out. "Spock was only kidding."
"Since when," Jim swallowed convulsively, "do Vulcans kid?"
Bones's brow knitted. "Need to throw up again?"
Jim just gave him a tight nod, his jaw set.
"All right. Just let me do all the work, okay? Relax."
Bones eased his arm around Jim's shoulders, one hand splayed across Jim's chest. Carefully he sat Jim up, saying nothing when Jim leaned a little more than he usually did against him.
"All right," Bones murmured into the matted hair as Jim panted. "Almost there." He reached for the bin by his feet and pulled it closer to the bed. His nostrils flared at the scent of lingering sick. He should have just asked Rand for a new bin.
Jim wasn't complaining, though. Bones guided his head towards the opening and as if he was waiting all this time, vomited almost immediately into it after a groan. A few minutes later, Jim slumped tiredly against Bones's shoulder. He looked half asleep. That usually didn’t last long though.
There wasn't much in the bin because Jim had already given up the dinner he had with the Kefkines' ruling family hours ago. But Bones checked the contents anyway. He narrowed his eyes at the pink streaks in the bile.
"Bones," Jim groaned at the quiet hiss against his throat. He weakly flapped an arm towards him.
"Just for your throat," Bones promised. "It feels sore, right?"
Jim nodded and curled closer to Bones in a way that reminded him of a cat his daughter once had. Damn fuzz ball was always burrowing for the warmest spot even in the summer. Used to shed all over his lap, but his little girl loved it at the shop he bought it from, adored it since it was a kitten so it stayed with her after the divorce.
Before his ex gave it away. She claimed the fur was making her sneeze.
"Better?" Bones asked and was rewarded with a sleepy nod. Something washed over him and he couldn't help but rub a knuckle against the line of Jim's jaw.
"Nice," Jim mumbled. His eyes closed, his fingers tentatively gathered folds of Bones's blue medical shirt.
"We never talked about that kiss," Jim slurred. "In'errupted..."
It looked like they weren't going to have a chance to talk about it here, either. But Bones smiled wryly to himself.
"What's to talk about? We got drunk. I kissed you. You threw up. End of story."
Jim scoffed, a sleepy snort that made Bones's mouth crinkled up unbidden.
"Why didn't you try be'ore?" Jim absently petted Bones's shirt over his belly.
Bones tried not to pull Jim closer to him. He could feel the cramps trembling down Jim's spine.
"Didn't think you wanted me to try." Bones gulped when Jim's palm slowly crept down his thigh, slipping in-between his legs and cupped the growing swell there. Bones closed his eyes and tried not to press himself into that warm hand.
"Does that mean you want me to kiss you again?" Bones managed.
Jim pressed his face into Bones's shirt, but couldn't hide the grimace.
"Would rather," Jim gasped, "you just f-fuck me but I know how you old 'uys like to start slo-God..."
"Hang on. Hang on," Bones murmured as he carefully eased Jim back down on the bed. He grabbed his medical kit and rummaged through it even as he kept looking over to Jim, curled and shaking on the bed. Bones kept missing the tube.
"Shit just s-set a phaser on k-kill and 'ut me out of my mi'ery," Jim grated out. He pulled his knees closer to his chest.
Bones uncapped the tube of salve, squeezing a good amount into his palm, all the while murmuring "Hold on, hold on." He was reluctant to try. God, it wasn't tested properly yet. It was a combination of every drug Bones knew Jim wasn't allergic to, part of a collection of cocktails Bones had been creating: Jim's own private medical kit.
Bones tugged Jim's shirt up. He winced at the cramps he could see clenching Jim's rigid stomach.
"What are you doing?" Jim jerked when Bones gingerly spread the salve across his stomach. "Cold."
"Give it a chance to heat up," Bones advised. He kept his eyes on the skin as he worked it into muscle. The tricorder resting against his hip chirped serenely. Thank God. "Good old fashioned horse ointment with a kick of painkiller courtesy of yours truly. Should relax the muscles and numb them for at least a short while. It's just temporary."
Jim blinked blearily at the wall as Bones rubbed in the cream. He scrunched up his face at the smell but before long, his eyelids slid shut in relief.
"Better?" Bones whispered, stooped over Jim as he continued to make small, slow circles into the firm muscles; deep, massaging circles. He could feel Jim relax little by little.
"Yeah." The response was almost a sigh. "Why the hell didn't you use this before?"
Bones snorted. "Do you want this or not?"
Jim's hand clasped over Bones's, stilling it.
"Hell, yeah," Jim slurred.
"Why do I get the feeling we're talking about something else now?" Bones grumbled. He tried to tug his hand free but Jim simply wove their fingers together. "Jim..."
"Stay," Jim yawned. "And explain to me why you didn't give me this smelly shit earlier?"
"Fuck you."
"Okay." Despite Jim's fatigue, the glee was still audible.
Bones rolled his eyes and begrudgingly settled on his side behind Jim and found Jim fitted next to him with ease. Legs settled against him, Jim's back flush against his chest, it...it was just perfect.
"Try to get some sleep," Bones said. He tried to keep his voice steady.
"Stay?" Jim yawned.
"You gonna give me my hand back?"
"Nope."
Bones kissed the back of Jim's neck and felt Jim press their combined hands closer to his stomach. He rested his chin on Jim's shoulder and released a breath slowly.
"Bones?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't count as a kiss."
"Shut up and get some sleep, Jim."
VI. Bones
It was decided that if they were going to do anything, anything at all, they should start it off with dinner. Something like back in the Academy: a few drinks, some food and maybe, possibly, well…if anything else came after, that would be pretty damn good.
At least that had been Jim's reasoning. He'd sent Bones a quick invite for dinner in his quarters. Jim sent it to his PADD along with an explicit stick figure drawing Jim had scribbled on the Bridge. Jim had failed Basic Art. Twice.
Bones then mistakenly sent it to Nurse Chapel along with his attached recommendations for Away Team Provisions.
He didn't realize until Scotty dropped him a note hours later asking if Bones could send him a copy. God damn it, Jim.
It was the responsibility of the CMO, Bones reasoned, to ensure the well being of the ship's captain. So it was logical (Spock would appreciate that) to request Mess to sterilize the plates and stemware, filter the drinking water once more, have the menu Jim had chosen reviewed for allergens and request a Decontamination J897-LK on Jim's quarters.
Yeah. Logical…
In a pig's eye.
When it was time for dinner, Bones had already reviewed the menu (twice), scrubbed his hands and face (damn Sulu and his damn 'I think this would interest you, doctor' pollen spitting alien purple plant), changed his shirt three times and arrived in time to see Jim gaping at his bed, a hand rubbing at his behind.
"Did you do this?" Jim mumbled as he absently rubbed the back of his sweatpants.
"What?" Bones said, distracted, his eyes riveted to where Jim's hand was. Bones was glad he didn't give into the urge to dress up. Jim would have laughed him out of his quarters.
"Bones." Jim's annoyed voice drew his eyes up. Jim pointed to his bed. "They placed a hypoallergenic, bio-filter force field on my bed."
Oh shit. Bones gawked at the bed and sure enough, there was the shimmer of a thin, isolation force field mocking him from Jim's bed.
"I came in," Jim grumbled, "grabbed a shower, changed and went to sit down on my bed and…" Jim opened his palms to simulate an explosion.
With a grimace, Bones reached under the bed, found the field's focal cell and turned it off. Okay, the J897-LK might have been overkill. He tilted his head up from his crouched position on the bed. Jim stood there with his arms folded across his chest.
"I think," Jim said slowly, "after staying here so long, I would have known if I was allergic to my own quarters. Geez, Bones." And just like that, Jim broke down into laughter, snorting, chuckling even as he sat down on the edge of his desk with a tiny "Ouch."
Bones grinned as he repositioned himself to sit cross-legged on the carpet. He tossed the field device over to Jim, who caught it easily with a fist, the other hand wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye.
"Should I be flattered or offended?" Jim gestured to his bed. "I mean, you're assuming that we're gonna be needing that bed after dinner." Jim eyed Bones with an unreadable expression, long enough that Bones was starting to sweat when Jim broke out in a big shit-eating grin.
Bones exhaled and glared up at Jim. "Dammit, Jim." His mouth twitched. "I just wanted to make sure we're not interrupted." He scratched his chin with a thumb. "Guess it looked desperate though."
"Just a little," Jim chortled, showing Bones his index and thumb barely touching.
Resting back against the bed, Bones grinned ruefully at Jim.
"So, flattered or offended?"
Jim's eyes softened, his mouth upturned. He rested his hands back as he looked at Bones.
"Flattered," Jim murmured, never looking away, "definitely flattered."
Bones hoped his smile wasn't as goofy as he was feeling right now.
The doorbell chimed and Bones's smile faded as Jim excused himself and bade Yeoman Rand to enter.
Hopefully, Jim would be just as flattered when he found out Bones swapped out the peanut butter pie with good ole, safe vanilla pudding.
Bones's fingers curled into Jim's hair. He tried to breathe through his nose, and it came out harsh, deep as he tried to stay sitting upright on the bed and not doubled over that sinful mouth. It was nothing like how he'd imagine, back in the day when he thought for sure it would only ever be in his imagination. It was more vivid here, the moist heat around him was boiling hot and every sound Jim made only made his blood rush louder in his ears.
No, nothing like how he imagined.
Teeth lightly grazed his cock, a tongue tracing the path and white flared behind Bones's eyes (he hadn't realized they were closed) as Jim tried his best to drain him and God, if Jim kept at it, Bones's brains were going out into that lush mouth of his.
His fingers curled tighter and Jim flinched but didn't pull back when Bones began to thrust into that mouth in earnest.
Dinner was on the table, still covered, probably cold by now. Bones had made sure everything on that damn tray was free of anything Jim could be allergic too. The plates were de-ionized before used, the god damn utensils were checked and not a single fucking pear, alien ice cream or mood scarf came near it.
They never ate dinner.
Come to think of it, did they even get to hello?
Something hot, wiry tight curled deep within his gut. Bones groaned, could feel Jim trying his best to deep-throat him (Christ, Jim wasn't kidding) and the feel of Jim's mouth working around him was just too much. Bones felt that knot of heat unravel. Jim twitched in surprise when Bones came but the sucking renewed as Jim tried to milk every last drop.
Bones swallowed and dropped back on the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.
"Did we go to warp?" Bones asked in a daze. He stared at Jim's ceiling and wouldn't you know it, somehow Jim had laser etched the bulkhead with the constellations from Earth's night sky. Damn kid needs a hobby.
"Well," Jim drawled as he climbed up to press his mouth over Bones's and the bitter, salty tang in his mouth made Bones flush.
"Least we know one thing for sure." Jim propped himself up with his right elbow to look at Bones.
"Oh?" Bones panted as he turned to look at Jim's flushed face. Impulsively, he reached a thumb over and flicked clean a trace spot of cum on the corner of Jim's mouth. He rubbed his thumb over Jim's lower lip, chuckling as he yanked it back before Jim could bite him.
"And what is it we know?" Bone murmured, his eyes tracing every line on Jim's face. Besides the fact dinner was a lost cause. Sleep too, probably.
Jim's smile was blinding. "That I'm not allergic to you."
Bones stared up at Jim before his eyes crinkled. Bones brushed a knuckle across Jim's jaw and Jim shone with a joy Bones hadn't seen since he found out the Enterprise would be his. It was humbling and scary.
"That's good to know," Bones murmured before he cupped the back of Jim's head and lowered him down. He met that mouth halfway.
The End