evening_bat: Bat in flight, silhouetted against the moon. (Default)
[personal profile] evening_bat
Title: Rainy Day, In the Public Eye & The Fine Art of Negotiation
Author: [personal profile] evening_bat
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Warnings: Nope!
Notes: More comment fics written for picture prompts on [livejournal.com profile] jim_and_bones. :D


Prompt: Chris Pine, a couch & a football on [livejournal.com profile] jim_and_bones

Rainy Day

Word Count: ~ 1450

“Bones.”

McCoy ignored the call of his name.

“Boooooooones...”

He ground his teeth as Jim persisted, repeating his name in the obnoxious sing-song that never failed to provoke a response.

“Oh, Booooooooones...”

McCoy’s patience snapped. “WHAT.”

“I’m bored,” Jim informed him brightly.

“No, Jim. Really? I hadn’t noticed,” McCoy snapped, without looking up from the stack of PADDs on his desk. “Why don’t you fuck off and find some way to entertain yourself?”

There was a moment of blessed silence.

“That wasn’t very nice, Bones,” Jim said, hurt lurking just underneath the even tone.

Aw hell, McCoy muttered internally, guilt coiling uncomfortably in his belly. Jim was being an annoying little prick but he didn’t deserve the sharp side of McCoy’s temper.

“All right, it wasn’t. Sorry,” he admitted gruffly, forcing himself to swivel in his chair and meet Jim’s eyes. He forced himself not to react to the sight of Jim sprawled comfortably across his couch in a soft t-shirt and worn jeans. Not even the boots propped up on the arm of the couch were enough to detract from the appeal.

He cursed himself for falling for Jim’s tricks yet again when Jim just flashed him a wide, brilliant smile. “No worries! You can make it up to me by being less boring. Right now.”

“I’ve got work to do,” he started to protest, gesturing half-heartedly to the desk.

“Oh, bullshit,” Jim promptly retorted. “You’re caught up on everything and you’ve got the same three days off the rest of us do. You’re not even expected in for clinic duty until Tuesday.”

Which was true, unfortunately. Trust Starfleet to leave him with fuck all to do right when he really wanted to keep busy.

“Look, Jim,” he sighed. “I’m not going to make for great company today, okay? Why don’t you go find some of your buddies to hang out with? Thought you had plans this afternoon, anyhow?”

Jim shrugged. “Game called on account of weather,” he explained, with a pointed toss of the ball he’d been toying with since he wandered into the room. “And everyone’s found something else to do by now.”

McCoy nodded absently. The weather had been first strike against the day. Grey and chilly, the kind of cold that crept under your skin and left you sluggish. “The drizzle wouldn’t be any good to play in,” he managed.

Jim sat up and peered at him in exaggerated concern. “What, no ranting about stupid cadets breaking themselves on their days off? No frothing about keeping out of the ‘freezing weather’ and maybe not sliding ourselves right into the infirmary?”

McCoy felt a faint smile tugging at his lips but it faded quickly. “Don’t really have the energy to spare,” he replied honestly.

That made Jim frown at him, brows furrowing as he looked more closely.

“You really want me to go?” he offered and McCoy knew he meant it. If he told Jim to take off, he’d be on his way without further complaint.

For a moment, he considered it. He probably should tell Jim to leave him be. He knew himself well enough to know that this pervasive mood wasn’t going to make him anything approaching pleasant company. But the room had been so empty when he woke up this morning, and McCoy was tired of being alone. And he knew Jim well enough to know that if he wanted to be anywhere else, he’d have left already.

“No,” he finally answered. “You can stick around. Just...don’t expect much, all right?”

“Yeah, all right, Bones,” Jim agreed softly, lying back down on the couch.

McCoy stared at him for a moment, then turned back to schoolwork. Hopefully, forcing his mind through the hoops of academia would help him shake the clinging sadness that had followed him through the day. It was as good a distraction as any, in any case, even allowing him to ignore the sound of Jim idly tossing the ball behind him.

At least, it was working until Jim dropped the damn ball.

“Jim!” McCoy barked, doubly annoyed because he’d smacked his knee against the side of the desk when he’d twisted around to glare at him.

“Sorry, sorry!” Jim hastily apologized as he scrambled off the couch to retrieve the ball. “I won’t do it again. Being quiet now!”

McCoy glared at him until he settled meekly back on the couch.

The second time the ball hit the ground, McCoy was out of the chair and scooping it up before Jim managed to get to his feet.

“Goddamnit, Jim!” McCoy growled. “Don’t make me regret letting you stay!”

Jim ducked his head, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, Bones.”

McCoy scowled at him, walking over to the couch and waving the ball at him. “I know we’re students but I thought we were beyond preschool. Do I have to take your toy away until you learn how to behave properly?”

Jim’s smile widened into a smirk. “You take my toy away, I’ll just have to find another one,” he challenged.

“Oh yeah?” McCoy shot back without thinking. “Like what?”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed as Jim uncharacteristically hesitated. “What?” he asked warily.

The suspicion made Jim smile again. “Oh nothing,” he answered breezily. “Just finding myself something new to play with.”

Before McCoy had time to react, Jim stepped forward and caught McCoy around the waist. McCoy tried to squirm free but Jim refused to let go, holding McCoy tightly as he tipped them both backwards, dragging McCoy with him as he fell back onto the couch.

“The hell do you think you’re doing? Let me go!” McCoy protested, scrabbling to get his knees under him.

“Wait,” Jim said breathlessly. “Just - wait.”

His arm was still looped around McCoy’s waist and McCoy froze as Jim tightened his grip. He tried to pull back and get a good look at Jim’s face, finding Jim watching him with wide eyes.

“Jim,” he started, losing the thread of the thought as Jim shifted his weight, settling McCoy more securely between the spread of his legs. “What’s going on?”

Jim searched his face, lifting his free hand to stroke McCoy’s cheek with his thumb. “Finding something better than that stupid ball?” he replied breezily.

“Like hell,” McCoy snapped, starting to struggle in earnest. “I’m not some toy for you to-”

“Okay, okay! Bad choice of words!” Jim backpedaled, keeping a secure grip on McCoy as he tried to fight his way free. “I didn’t - will you stop - I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Then what the fuck did you mean?” McCoy demanded, nearly paralyzed at the thought of what Jim was pushing them towards. Sure, Starfleet hadn’t turned into the epic disaster McCoy had been half-expecting but that largely because of Jim. McCoy wouldn’t - couldn’t - do anything to risk that.

McCoy wasn’t blind. He’d wanted Jim since practically the day he’d met him. Wanting Jim was easy and expected and such a bad idea that he’d never seriously considered it. They both needed a friend far more than sex - Jim could get that anywhere and McCoy preferred to go without, at least for now. Besides, Jim meant more to him than that, ridiculous cliche that that was. He’d thought that was mutual.

“Hey,” Jim said gently. “Stop freaking out.”

McCoy just snorted. “Easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jim told him, eyes warm. “And it would be for you too, if you’d just stop panicking.”

He slid the hand on McCoy’s face around to the back of his neck, tugged him gently downwards.

“Not asking you for anything other than your time, Bones,” Jim whispered in his ear as McCoy gave up and collapsed on him. “Just stay here, okay?”

The with me went unspoken but McCoy heard it clearly.

“Aw, kid,” McCoy sighed tiredly. “You don’t want to do this.”

If the way he grabbed a handful of Jim’s shirt and hung on contradicted his words, well, it was Jim’s own damn fault for pushing things this far.

“Why don’t you let me worry about what I want to do, huh?” Jim chided lightly and McCoy could hear the smile in his voice.

McCoy snorted again. “You never worry about anything,” he accused.

“And you worry too much,” Jim returned easily. “Between the two of us, we’ll figure it out. Trust me, would you?”

There was never any question of that. McCoy already did.

Jim took the relaxing of his muscles as the surrender it was and hummed in contentment, wrapping his arms around him.

“Finally,” he murmured against McCoy’s forehead.

It was the first time McCoy had felt warm all day.


(IDEK. I went from “Jim is pissing McCoy off by hanging out in his room being distracting and pretty” to THIS.)


Prompt: Red Carpet pics on [livejournal.com profile] jim_and_bones

In The Public Eye

Word Count: ~ 700

No matter the century, no matter how advanced recording tech became, reporters were always a nuisance. No public event was safe, certainly not an international spectacle of this scale. McCoy winced away from a particularly bright flash, ignoring the frantic hail of questions being shrieked at them. He kept a careful hand at Uhura’s back, guiding her through the throng of guests and glaring off any reporters who got too aggressive. On his other side, Scott was looking a bit taken aback by the commotion.

“Quite the fuss!” he remarked brightly. “Though I still don’t see why you all needed me along. I had quite the evening planned with the-”

“Just remember the free booze,” McCoy cut in. He didn’t need to hear anything about Scott’s plans with the ship’s systems. The man’s enthusiasm for his work was admirable but occasionally disturbing.

“Oh yes. Well, all right then.”

Uhura shook her head at them in mock-despair. “We haven’t even gotten inside yet!” she chided. “Waste of your time or not, you should probably at least pretend not to hate it for a little while longer.”

“Well, if the Captain and First Officer would see fit to get here, we could fix that first part,” McCoy grumbled. And then maybe he could get a damn drink. “Nice of Starfleet to insist we come along to the party so they could show us off and then refuse to let their star attractions out of meetings long enough to attend.”

A near-hysterical flurry of activity at the street end of the carpet told him that Jim’s timing was as perfect as ever.

“Speak of the devil!” Scotty said cheerfully, waving a hand at the two familiar forms cutting through the crowd.

McCoy was vaguely aware of Spock and Uhura exchanging their usual restrained greetings but his eyes were entirely for Jim, who wore a formal suit as well as he wore command gold. And knew it, the shameless bastard.

“Bones! Scotty!” Jim enthused as soon as he caught sight of them. “You both made it!”

“Well, you did order us to attend, Captain.”

“And threatened each of us to make sure the other actually left the ship.”

“‘Threaten’ is such an ugly word,” Jim said expansively, flapping one hand to wave away the accusation. His free hand snaked around McCoy’s waist. “Maybe Uhura can offer some more appropriate suggestions?”

They shuffled their way along the length of the carpet towards the entrance to the gala, chatting along the way. (Uhura did, in fact, have a number of useful things to say to Jim.) They kept getting stopped in their progress by various other guests wanting to claim a moment of their time or make introductions or pose for endless photos.

It was in another of these pauses that Jim chuckled to himself, immediately rousing McCoy’s guard. He twisted in the loose embrace of Jim’s arm - slung comfortably around his waist again - to glare at him. “What are you up to now?”

Jim just grinned, slow and warm, and leaned forward until McCoy could feel his breath against his cheek.

“Hey Bones,” Jim said into his ear. “Want to see if we can make the front page again?”

He meant it to tease, McCoy knew. He was fully expecting a hissed refusal, maybe some scolding about being professional adults and on their best behaviour. McCoy wasn’t ashamed but while showing affection was one thing, putting on a show was another. But... They were back on Earth for the first time in ages, no one was shooting at them with anything more dangerous than a camera and Jim looked goddamn amazing in that suit. Who gave a damn if people from the three top gossip rags were standing ten feet away and salivating at the sight of them?

McCoy leaned back into Jim, enjoying the way Jim’s breath caught at the unexpected response, tilting his head so that his lips nearly brushed Jim’s jaw when he replied. “You play attentive boyfriend tonight, fetch and carry all of my many, many drinks and I’ll let you kiss me right here on the carpet.”

The smile on Jim’s face rivalled any of the storm of flashes that followed when he spun McCoy into his arms to take him up on his offer.


Prompt: A particularly lovely pic of Chris Pine on [livejournal.com profile] jim_and_bones

The Fine Art of Negotiation

Word Count: ~ 1000

He really should have been expecting this, McCoy reflected as Jim flung himself into their room that evening. Midterms had just wrapped up, the campus was alive with cadets riding the post-exam wave of relief and Jim, of course, was determined to go make a night of it.

“Get up, get up!” he chivvied McCoy as soon as he found him lying sprawled on his bed. “We are so going out tonight.”

“Jim, no,” McCoy complained. His schedule had been particularly brutal this past week and he’d been writing himself IOUs for a decent night’s sleep for about three days.

“Don’t even try to argue with me!” Jim instructed, already tugging at his uniform.

“What do you mean, try? I am arguing with you!” McCoy snapped, rolling onto his back so he could glare at Jim without suffocating himself in his pillow. “Look, you go ahead and get out there, you deserve a night out. I just want to get some sleep.”

“You can get some sleep tomorrow. A few drinks will help you relax and help you sleep even better!” Jim retorted cheerfully. “I found this great place just before midterms started, you’re going to love it!”

“You keep telling me you’re some kind of genius, kid. So tell me, why do you find it so goddamn hard to understand the concept of no?” McCoy demanded.

“What was that last thing you said, Bones?” Jim asked brightly, cocking his head. “Sounded like, let’s go!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” McCoy sighed, draping an arm over his eyes.

“Come on, Bones,” Jim wheedled. McCoy could hear rustling as Jim changed, clearly ignoring all of his protests. “We’ll have fun. You remember fun, don’t you? That thing you do when you’re not moping or working or bitching? Come to think of it, you probably don’t remember. So it’s high time we reminded you.”

So much for hoping that Jim would finally take the hint, McCoy decided glumly. He let his arm fall to his side as he sat up, gearing up for another round of refusals. His words faded unspoken when he saw Jim standing in the centre of their room, half-dressed and quirking one of those almost-smiles at him.

Daily exposure should have given McCoy some immunity to Jim, it really should have. He knew most of the kid’s tricks, with the smiles and the looks and the charm. He’d seen him drunk, sick, beaten up and mad as hell. He figured he ranked pretty high on the short list of people that Jim Kirk called “friend”. And somehow, it was never enough to mitigate the fact that Jim Kirk was utterly gorgeous.

Jim had apparently settled on dressing down tonight, was standing there in jeans and an unbuttoned shirt. He was rubbing at the back of his head, habitual cocky attitude muted as he considered his next move. Light reflected dully from the plain necklace lying against his chest, caught the bracelet on his left wrist. McCoy’s mouth went dry at the sight of Jim’s right hand tucked into the belt of his jeans, thumb absently rubbing his stomach.

“Jesus, Jim,” he said, better sense knocked entirely offline. “Are you trying to give me a reason to go out or a reason to keep you here?”

There was a moment of startled silence, just long enough for McCoy to start panicking and for Jim’s almost-smile to spread into a wide, satisfied grin.

“Hold it right there!” McCoy barked, pointing a finger at Jim. He might not be anywhere near as unaffected by Jim’s appeal as he pretended but he’d never intended to let Jim know that. Kid was already far too smug for his own good.

“Are you sure, Bones?” Jim was practically purring. “‘Cause suddenly I’m not getting the impression that you really want me to stay over here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” McCoy said through gritted teeth. He had to end this quickly or he’d be needing his pillow to hide how vigorously his body agreed with Jim, which would pretty strongly undermine his argument. “Finish getting pretty and get the hell out of here, would you?”

Jim considered him for a long moment, tapping a finger lightly against his lips. “No, I don’t think I will,” he finally decided.

“You’d better,” McCoy growled. “Because if you’re getting any ideas about-”

“I am not ‘getting any ideas’,” Jim interrupted, sidling over to the end of McCoy’s bed and claiming a seat. McCoy firmly ignored the way Jim’s shirt gaped open as he slouched on the mattress, sliding away from his chest. “I already had those ideas. Lots of ideas, actually. I just didn’t think you did.”

McCoy treated him to a highly skeptical glare, even as he tugged his legs out of reach. “You know, you don’t have to sleep with anyone who shows even the vaguest hint of interest.”

“That was more than just a vague hint, Bones,” Jim replied, still far too damn pleased with himself. “Besides, you’re not just anyone. And this is not just me being an opportunistic cockslut.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” McCoy managed, fighting off a snort of startled laughter at the frank admission. “So what is this?”

“This,” Jim told him, edging closer, “is me realizing that maybe I can have something I’ve wanted that I always thought was off-limits.”

Jim stopped moving when McCoy turned to stare at him, still impossibly beautiful and somehow improbably interested.

“Oh yeah?” he asked softly, searching Jim’s face and finding his answer in the warmth of Jim’s smile.

“Yeah,” Jim said simply.

McCoy decided that a revelation of that magnitude warranted a few moments lost to grinning at each other like idiots.

“So,” Jim finally said, “I wanted you with me more than I wanted to go out. You don’t seem to mind my company but you don’t want to leave the room. I think we can reach a satisfactory compromise. Don’t you?”

McCoy held out a hand, gratified at the eagerness with which Jim clambered over the space between them to straddle his lap.

“Yeah, Jim,” he breathed against his lips as he slid his hands under Jim's shirt. “ I think we can come to an agreement with those terms.”


* * *


Have since moved onto a couple of other Star Trek fic projects & RL is currently demanding that I flail around pretending to be a Responsible Adult for the moment. Hope to get back to comment fics eventually. Great fodder for fic ideas. :D

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