fic | star trek: aos | the zero grav club

[mekosuchinae]

Surgery went OK! Spent most of today sleeping. I am extremely light-headed, my mouth hurts a lot, and my gum is still oozing blood, but they were able to stitch the gum up over the implant and they only had to do a teeny bone graft and now I am eating strawberry kiwi jello, which I will be subsisting on along with oatmeal, applesauce, and mashed up macaroni and cheese for the next two weeks. Victory?

thistlerose requested Kirk and McCoy kissing in zero gravity.

Title: The Zero Grav Club
Fandom: Star Trek: AOS
Rating: Pants. Cussin'.
Excerpt: On a list of things for which Leonard McCoy reserves a special degree of hatred which borders on the all-consuming, the following two items appear: zero gravity sims and Jim Kirk.

On a list of things for which Leonard McCoy reserves a special degree of hatred which borders on the all-consuming, the following two items appear: zero gravity sims and Jim Kirk. He mentions this to Jim when Jim has the audacity to pull off a cartwheel in free fall in front of McCoy, who is doing his level best not to throw up all over the sensitive testing equipment.

"Bones, you know if it was up to me I wouldn't put you through this, but Starfleet regulation 998.43 states that all officers have to log free fall sim time on a bimonthly basis. Check it." Jim does a handstand off a wall McCoy had decided to think of as the ceiling.

"You're an asshole," McCoy says. He hangs grimly off his harness and thinks of all the terrible things he could but won't write on Jim's next physical.

"That's why you love me," Jim says lightly. "It's part of my charm. My allure, if you will."

"I won't."

Jim pushes off from the distant wall and lets his velocity carry him across the small chamber. He's graceful in here, absurdly so. It isn't much of a surprise. Jim has devoted his every waking moment to his neverending struggle with gravity. McCoy has the medical file to prove it.

McCoy says, "What? What the fuck do you want?" and fiddles with the test instruments, scowling down at the readout and not at Jim, who draws inexorably nearer.

Jim collides with McCoy, pushing them both back against the wall. He hooks his fingers in the little slots that line the wall and boxes McCoy in with his hips and his legs and his shoulders.

"I think you know what I want, Bones," Jim says, his voice deepening.

"That's swell, Jim," McCoy says. "Now will you please get off me."

Jim waggles his eyebrows and says, "I'd like to get you off."

"Jesus!" McCoy says. "Are you shitting me? I will fucking throw up on you."

"First, language," Jim says and McCoy doesn't even try to hide his snort. "Second," Jim continues, "you keep promising to throw up on me but you never deliver. Most people consider it rude to raise a guy's hopes like that. Third," but there is no third: McCoy pushes at Jim and Jim pushes back, slamming him against the wall and bending his head down (or up or fuck McCoy hates zero grav) to kiss him hard, with teeth and tongue and his thigh riding up against McCoy's crotch.

Jim licks a long stripe up McCoy's throat and says, "Hey, Bones, you ever had sex in zero g before?" like they're talking about what's on the menu for lunch.

"No," McCoy snaps, "because it's a terrible idea and the only people who could possibly be dumb enough to attempt it are--"

"Just checking," Jim says, and he slings his legs around McCoy's waist and reels him in.