Title: FML: Time to let go
Sequel to:
FML (fuck my life),
FML: the Admirals' take,
FML: Protocol for an orgy,
FML: Looking in from the outside and
FML: Going Space-CrazyFandom & Pairing: Star Trek AOS, Pike/Boyce, Kirk/McCoy and foursome mix
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: Around 2000
Summary: Watching Chris surrounded by pretty youths isn't making Phil feel any younger.
Author's note: THE FINAL PART. So clearly I completely fail at writing hot foursome porn. So have issues and some romance instead.
The awesome almost-last line about the epitaphs comes from the ingenious
sayfray.
Phil stands at the door of the room, looking at the puppy pile on the quilts. Chris has managed to collapse in the middle and now has a pretty young thing curled up on each shoulder. And they are so young, Phil thinks, with their firm smooth skin. Chris lies between them, his age obvious in the grey of his hair and the lines on his face, but his vitality shines out of every laugh line.
Jim is whining that their inspirational sandwich has put him back in the mood and someone should take care of little Jimmy. Leonard is ribbing him about how ‘little’ little Jimmy may or may not be. Chris is telling them that they bicker like an old married couple and that they’d best remember not to it on the bridge. Jim wants to know if they can do ‘it’ on the bridge and has Chris ever and if so does he have any tips. Everyone is laughing.
Phil turns away to go to the kitchen, sent off in search of drink and snacks to quell Jim’s munchies. He catches a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror. He’s not an insecure man. He knows he looks good for his age. But it’s having to add for his age that is depressing. He stops by the bedroom to grab his robe, a tatty red velvet affair that has followed him all over the sector. It is a little threadbare itself but it serves to cover up the saggy bits and the wrinkles.
The two youngsters are at the start of what will undoubtedly be stellar careers. Chris, for all his complaining that no one listens to the newest Admiral, has just finished one career in a blaze of glory and insane courage, and is now embarking on another that will doubtless be equally impressive. In this time of upheaval, his confidence and independence of thought will be valued. Phil has no doubt that he’ll end up as Commander in Chief of Starfleet if he stays the course. If he switches into politics, Phil wouldn’t bet against him making President of the Federation. And then there’s him, stuck as Surgeon General. Clearly it is an important job. His mother is proud. But most of it is paperwork and protocols, and all of it is deeply mired in Starfleet politics.
“Hey, did you get lost in the hallway? Where’s the grub?” Jim pokes a smiling face into the kitchen and then starts scrabbling around in the cupboards. “I’m not getting anywhere with getting sex out of those two lazy bastards so I may as well eat instead.” Phil watches him as he accumulates a pile of olives, nuts, crisps and other assorted nibbles. His beautiful creamy skin, tinted gold where the sun catches his forearms and neck, is as smooth as a virgin canvas. The muscles of his combat-trained body flex easily as he moves around the room. Phil doesn’t envy him the uncertainty of youth but he does envy the sense of unlimited possibility.
Phil knows why they put such effort into the care and feeding of this fledging captain. Jim and those are stand by him are the future of the Federation. But Phil is more than a little disheartened at feeling so much like the past. What on earth made him think that an orgy with these two young stallions was a good idea?
“Are you coming?” asks Jim, standing in the door with his tray of goodies, as unabashed in his nakedness as an Olympic athlete from ancient Greece.
“In a minute,” says Phil. He pours himself a glass of wine and stares at it moodily, reluctant to rejoin the others. He is sufficiently self-aware to know what is really worrying him. Chris looks so comfortable with the two youngsters. And he is clearly getting tired of Phil’s nannying. More and more they fight over Chris’s need to confront his trauma where Phil still wants to protect him from it. Phil knows he needs to back off. He needs to let Chris go. Except that this time he’s made a vital mistake.
When he was younger he’d never wanted a permanent partner. He’d been too focused on his medical work, rejecting any ties that might prevent him from being posted wherever his expertise was most needed. As the Yorktown’s CMO he’d watched Chris’s entanglements with various diplomats and alien potentates with amusement, providing a shoulder to bitch on and drinks when required, occasionally a warm bed and helpful hand too, but he’d not let his heart loose. Chris’s first love was a lady called the Yorktown and everyone on board knew it.
When Chris was posted to the Academy and he’d just been promoted to Surgeon General they’d spent a lot of time together, each using the other as their lighting rod to ground their frustration and uncertainty, each trusting the other not to spread their secrets. Although with age Phil was beginning to think that it might be nice to have someone to come home to each night, he’d known Chris was not suitable. Chris was starting a new affair, this time with the Enterprise, and he’d soon be off in deep space once again.
But then the universe trembled and scores of his friends and colleagues were dead and Chris’s nervous system was being eaten alive and even if it was all he could do, Phil was going to save one thing in the chaos, and that thing was Chris. In the process he’d forgotten to guard his heart. Now Chris - who clearly had no problem in attracting younger lovers - was pulling away from him again, and Phil - he was well and truly screwed, and not in the good way.
“How come you’re alone in here?” asks Leonard, on his way back from the bathroom. Another beautiful young body, thinks Phil with resignation, and a body still in daily use at the cutting edge of medicine. Being Surgeon General is a long way from the life-affirming immediacy and importance of being a doctor. Some days he feels irrelevant, even pointless. If he’s ever finally smothered by the weight of his paperwork, he’s not sure anyone will notice.
“I’ll be along in a minute,” he says. Leonard gives him one of those penetrating stares of his, and then goes back into the other room. When Chris limps into the kitchen a few minutes later, Phil realizes he’s been rumbled.
Chris leans against the kitchen counter next to him, helps himself to Phil’s glass of wine and downs it. “Damn, it’s good to be able to drink alcohol again,” he says. Phil grunts.
“While I was Nero’s guest I had quite a bit of time to think about what I was about to lose,” Chris says. Phil bites down on the urge to object to the Nero thing, yet again. “And while I was in hospital recovering I had yet more time to think about what I wanted to do with this new life I’d not expected to have. Do you know what conclusion I reached?”
Phil shrugs. He doubts the conclusion will be in his favor. He suspects he’s being played with and he doesn’t like it.
“I decided I hate this staff apartment. If I’m at headquarters for good, I want to buy my own house. So how about it?” He turns to face Phil. “Do you want to buy a house with me?”
Phil gapes at him. “I still care about my career,” continues Chris. “But it’s not everything to me any longer. I’ve given Starfleet my pound of flesh. I’ve spent enough time pursuing the black, giving my heart to my ships. Ships don’t sit by your hospital bed night after night. Ships don’t coax you out of your nightmares, put up with your moods, and provide pretty boys for kinky sex.” Chris grabs Phil’s hand in his own, and intertwines their fingers. “I’m ready to have a home to come back to and someone to share it with. So, what do you say?”
Phil, at a loss for words, settles on kissing him instead. There is none of the haste of their youth. This is a slow, sensual exploration of territory both of them know so well but still want to savor. Chris slides his arms round Phil’s waist. “Why are you hiding your beautiful assets in this tatty robe? Have I told you that I hate this robe? Get it off!” Chris tugs down the offending garment.
“You’re such a pushy bastard, Chrissie,” says Phil, his face pressed against Chris’s temple.
“Chrissie?” exclaims Jim. “We can call you Chr--“
“You most certainly cannot,” cuts in Chris. “It takes thirty years of service to earn that right.”
Phil looks up to find Jim leaning against the doorframe, Leonard behind him with his arm wrapped round Jim’s waist, his chin resting on Jim’s shoulder. Phil gives Leonard a glare of doom. Leonard grins back, quite unrepentant.
“So the party’s in the kitchen, is it?” says Jim. “Even orgies end up in the kitchen. Who knew?” He grabs another bottle of wine and fills four glasses. “A toast! To the hottest foursome ever to prowl the halls of Starfleet.” They laugh and drink.
“To absent friends,” offers Leonard. They drink again in a more somber mood.
“To survivors, kept going by the love and strength of our friends,” says Chris, clinking his glass against Phil’s.
“To our boys, about to boldly go where no man has gone before,” says Phil, saluting Jim and Leonard with his glass.
“Let’s worry about that tomorrow,” says Jim. “Right now the night is young, there’s plenty of wine, little Jimmy’s back in the mood--“
“Are we surprised?” mutters Leonard under his breath.
“Silence from the peanut gallery. As I was saying, little Jimmy’s back in the mood, Starfleet’s four hottest officers are ready and willing. May I suggest that right now we boldly go back to bed.”
So they did.
* * *
Much, much later they lie in a tangled heap, Jim’s face pushed into Leonard’s armpit, Chris spooned around Phil, Phil’s hand on Jim’s shoulder. The room is silent except for the occasional soft snore.
“See, Bones. I told you this would be awesome.”
Leonard snorts. “One day, kid, I will be lying six feet under and my epitaph will read: Jim, I told you this was a bad idea! Next to me will lie one James T. Kirk and his epitaph will read: That was awesome!"
“Together ‘til death do us part. Under the grump you’re such a softy, Bones. But yeah, works for me!” Jim snuggles down against him and goes back to sleep, leaving a startled Leonard staring into the darkness. He’s thinking that it works for him too.
- THE END !!! -
I've never tried writing a fic like this before. Thanks to all of you who came along for the ride.