Star Trek fic: Blind Dating, PG McCoy/Kirk 1/3
Fic: Blind Dating
Indus
Summary: In response to this prompt at st_xi_kink about blind!Kirk meeting single father McCoy. Not quite the prompt, but as close as I could get!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the actors who play them, just this story. Everything of real value belongs to Paramount, Roddenberry, Karl Urban and the very gorgeous Chris Pine.
Rating: PG at the most.
Pairing: McCoy/Kirk, past McCoy/Jocelyn
Depending on who you asked, Jim Kirk was supposed to be a lot of things other than what he ended up being. If you asked his mother or stepfather, he was supposed to be dead. No one was more surprised than Winona or Frank when Jim survived all of his foolish stunts. Their second guess would have been jail. Sam, Jim's older brother, had a lot more faith. "He was like the sun," Sam would reminisce wistfully. "I thought he'd be the youngest Starfleet captain in history, eclipse even our father. Or dead," he would shrug and add.
But Jim was none of those things. His last insane stunt, done in deliberate finger-flipping James-Tiberius-Kirk style, had not killed him. But it had taken his sight. As as Jim adjusted to losing his sight and living in darkness, he found a new determination to outdo people's expectations. He would never be captain, would probably never even make first officer, but damn it if he wouldn't be the first blind person in Starfleet. And so, with some major work in spatial recognition and a bunch of other techniques that helped the blind almost, but not quite, "see", and some judicious use of contacts his father had accumulated both before and after his death, Jim Kirk found himself in Starfleet at the no-longer-tender but still young age of 22.
He touched the pad again and listened to the directions to his room, but they had not changed in the last five minutes. "Oh crap," Jim sighed. Yes, this was definitely his room. Which meant that the voice he could hear, admonishing a child who was shrieking at the top of her lungs, was probably his roommate. Great.
"No Joanna, you can't stay here," McCoy growled. He knew Joanna was just reacting to the divorce, but this little brat was NOT the daughter he knew and loved. "I'm sorry, kid, but I promise that you and I can talk every day on this communication claptrap. Your mom will..."
"No!" She cried even louder, and drummed her feet on the floor. "I don't want to."
"Jo," he pleaded. It would be one more feather in Jos's cap, if she came in and saw that Leonard wasn't even capable of taking care of their daughter. She'd warned that Jo would put up a fuss, but he'd insisted that she come to see him off, as it was. "Jo, I know this is difficult..."
"Um, excuse me, but is this Room 115?" A hesitant voice asked.
McCoy snorted. "Of course it is! Can't you read the bloody sign?" He stopped, blushed as he took in the fact that the young man in front of him probably could not see it.
Instead of being offended, or ignoring the faux pas, Kirk smiled blindingly. "Not really, but I would probably have barged in anyway."
"Oh?" McCoy asked ascerbically.
"Well, I was in the corridor, and I heard this gorgeous voice and I had to come in and check if I was sharing a room with a world-famous singer or something? Can you tell me, sir, if the young lady in the room will give me her autograph?"
As Jo forgot her temper and giggled, McCoy realized that this young man was trouble. And that they would probably be best friends before the week was out.
He was sure of it that night when the door closed behind his ex and his daughter, and the young man pulled out a bottle of 20 year-old Scotch he had somehow snuck into their room, despite the rules.
But still, as soon as he became sober, he was going to get the kid to stop calling him Bones. He may have brought the skeleton that had been his constant companion since med school, but that was no reason for that ridiculous nickname.
*
The thing about trial separations, McCoy thought, was that they almost always ended in divorce. On rare occasions, they ended the way couples hoped and perhaps even expected they would in the beginning, with reconciliation. But death? They were never supposed to end in death.
His relationship with Jos had been so sour that they had just decided to call it a trial separation while he was in Starfleet so that he would not have to do all the paperwork until after he graduated. He had seen other people, and he knew Jos was dating as well. But when he received the news about the transport accident that had taken her life, he could think of nothing but the way they had been, the way they had loved, and he grieved.
“Bones?” Jim walked in, smelling of alcohol, blood and sex, as usual. “What is it?” Blind or not, Kirk was fairly good at walking into a room and gleaning McCoy’s mood right off the bat. Maybe the fumes from the open bottle of Scotch helped.
“Jos is dead,” he said baldly, and as if saying the words made it more real than hearing them, he broke down and wept for the woman he had loved, would always love. And Jim, careless Jim who still mourned the father he had lost because of a malfunctioning conn on the day of his birth, sat down next to him and held him until he cried himself to sleep.
*
McCoy was packing his things to go pick up his daughter when Kirk finally spoke again. “Bones,” he said hesitatingly, “you can’t bring back a kid to Academy quarters.”
“I know,” McCoy said softly. “But Jos and I never divorced, you know, so I am selling the house and buying something here. I’ve already asked our housing counselor to look into a place, a house, nearby. I’m getting special compassionate leave to do this.” He turned, examined Kirk and took in the slightly shaking hands. “You can do this on your own, you know.”
Kirk smiled cockily, but McCoy had known him two years, and could see right through the annoying cockiness to the young man who needed some stability and consistency before he could go forth and challenge every restriction they put on him. “Of course I can,” Kirk insisted.
“Oh kid, don’t give me that puppy look,” McCoy growled. “I’m making sure I have an empty room downstairs, and you’ve been eligible to live off-campus ever since you’ve gotten here.”
Kirk’s eyes widened, and if his pupils hadn’t been slightly turned to the left, McCoy would have thought he was staring at him in shock. “Are you asking me to move in with you? But Bones, this is so sudden!”
McCoy groaned. “I know I’m going to regret this, I think I already am, but yes. But there are some rules. You can’t expose my daughter to the revolving door of men and women who parade through your bedroom, you can’t get drunk and fight all the time…”
“Yes, yes and yes,” Kirk said flippantly, his face split in a wide smile. “I promise to keep your daughter safe and sound.” And he meant it. Kirk spoke to Jo almost as much as Bones did, and the two had a mutual adoration society going on that would have made McCoy a lot more jealous if Jim had not included him in every part of it. Kirk had also visited Jo when McCoy felt bad leaving him alone for the holidays. He’d made a pretty good buffer for Jos too. Oh dear God, Jos.
Onto Part 2
Indus
Summary: In response to this prompt at st_xi_kink about blind!Kirk meeting single father McCoy. Not quite the prompt, but as close as I could get!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the actors who play them, just this story. Everything of real value belongs to Paramount, Roddenberry, Karl Urban and the very gorgeous Chris Pine.
Rating: PG at the most.
Pairing: McCoy/Kirk, past McCoy/Jocelyn
Depending on who you asked, Jim Kirk was supposed to be a lot of things other than what he ended up being. If you asked his mother or stepfather, he was supposed to be dead. No one was more surprised than Winona or Frank when Jim survived all of his foolish stunts. Their second guess would have been jail. Sam, Jim's older brother, had a lot more faith. "He was like the sun," Sam would reminisce wistfully. "I thought he'd be the youngest Starfleet captain in history, eclipse even our father. Or dead," he would shrug and add.
But Jim was none of those things. His last insane stunt, done in deliberate finger-flipping James-Tiberius-Kirk style, had not killed him. But it had taken his sight. As as Jim adjusted to losing his sight and living in darkness, he found a new determination to outdo people's expectations. He would never be captain, would probably never even make first officer, but damn it if he wouldn't be the first blind person in Starfleet. And so, with some major work in spatial recognition and a bunch of other techniques that helped the blind almost, but not quite, "see", and some judicious use of contacts his father had accumulated both before and after his death, Jim Kirk found himself in Starfleet at the no-longer-tender but still young age of 22.
He touched the pad again and listened to the directions to his room, but they had not changed in the last five minutes. "Oh crap," Jim sighed. Yes, this was definitely his room. Which meant that the voice he could hear, admonishing a child who was shrieking at the top of her lungs, was probably his roommate. Great.
"No Joanna, you can't stay here," McCoy growled. He knew Joanna was just reacting to the divorce, but this little brat was NOT the daughter he knew and loved. "I'm sorry, kid, but I promise that you and I can talk every day on this communication claptrap. Your mom will..."
"No!" She cried even louder, and drummed her feet on the floor. "I don't want to."
"Jo," he pleaded. It would be one more feather in Jos's cap, if she came in and saw that Leonard wasn't even capable of taking care of their daughter. She'd warned that Jo would put up a fuss, but he'd insisted that she come to see him off, as it was. "Jo, I know this is difficult..."
"Um, excuse me, but is this Room 115?" A hesitant voice asked.
McCoy snorted. "Of course it is! Can't you read the bloody sign?" He stopped, blushed as he took in the fact that the young man in front of him probably could not see it.
Instead of being offended, or ignoring the faux pas, Kirk smiled blindingly. "Not really, but I would probably have barged in anyway."
"Oh?" McCoy asked ascerbically.
"Well, I was in the corridor, and I heard this gorgeous voice and I had to come in and check if I was sharing a room with a world-famous singer or something? Can you tell me, sir, if the young lady in the room will give me her autograph?"
As Jo forgot her temper and giggled, McCoy realized that this young man was trouble. And that they would probably be best friends before the week was out.
He was sure of it that night when the door closed behind his ex and his daughter, and the young man pulled out a bottle of 20 year-old Scotch he had somehow snuck into their room, despite the rules.
But still, as soon as he became sober, he was going to get the kid to stop calling him Bones. He may have brought the skeleton that had been his constant companion since med school, but that was no reason for that ridiculous nickname.
*
The thing about trial separations, McCoy thought, was that they almost always ended in divorce. On rare occasions, they ended the way couples hoped and perhaps even expected they would in the beginning, with reconciliation. But death? They were never supposed to end in death.
His relationship with Jos had been so sour that they had just decided to call it a trial separation while he was in Starfleet so that he would not have to do all the paperwork until after he graduated. He had seen other people, and he knew Jos was dating as well. But when he received the news about the transport accident that had taken her life, he could think of nothing but the way they had been, the way they had loved, and he grieved.
“Bones?” Jim walked in, smelling of alcohol, blood and sex, as usual. “What is it?” Blind or not, Kirk was fairly good at walking into a room and gleaning McCoy’s mood right off the bat. Maybe the fumes from the open bottle of Scotch helped.
“Jos is dead,” he said baldly, and as if saying the words made it more real than hearing them, he broke down and wept for the woman he had loved, would always love. And Jim, careless Jim who still mourned the father he had lost because of a malfunctioning conn on the day of his birth, sat down next to him and held him until he cried himself to sleep.
*
McCoy was packing his things to go pick up his daughter when Kirk finally spoke again. “Bones,” he said hesitatingly, “you can’t bring back a kid to Academy quarters.”
“I know,” McCoy said softly. “But Jos and I never divorced, you know, so I am selling the house and buying something here. I’ve already asked our housing counselor to look into a place, a house, nearby. I’m getting special compassionate leave to do this.” He turned, examined Kirk and took in the slightly shaking hands. “You can do this on your own, you know.”
Kirk smiled cockily, but McCoy had known him two years, and could see right through the annoying cockiness to the young man who needed some stability and consistency before he could go forth and challenge every restriction they put on him. “Of course I can,” Kirk insisted.
“Oh kid, don’t give me that puppy look,” McCoy growled. “I’m making sure I have an empty room downstairs, and you’ve been eligible to live off-campus ever since you’ve gotten here.”
Kirk’s eyes widened, and if his pupils hadn’t been slightly turned to the left, McCoy would have thought he was staring at him in shock. “Are you asking me to move in with you? But Bones, this is so sudden!”
McCoy groaned. “I know I’m going to regret this, I think I already am, but yes. But there are some rules. You can’t expose my daughter to the revolving door of men and women who parade through your bedroom, you can’t get drunk and fight all the time…”
“Yes, yes and yes,” Kirk said flippantly, his face split in a wide smile. “I promise to keep your daughter safe and sound.” And he meant it. Kirk spoke to Jo almost as much as Bones did, and the two had a mutual adoration society going on that would have made McCoy a lot more jealous if Jim had not included him in every part of it. Kirk had also visited Jo when McCoy felt bad leaving him alone for the holidays. He’d made a pretty good buffer for Jos too. Oh dear God, Jos.
Onto Part 2