Humans
J. Juls < jjuls @ tbc.net >
First Place TOS Slash Vignette (seven-way
tie)
Series: TOS
Rating: PG
Codes: K/Mc , K/S impl
Summary: McCoy Jim comfort each
other after ST II.
Disclaimer: McCoy and Jim. Paramount is paramount in their
existence. Not me.
The brandy
wasn't really helping, Jim decided as he set his half-empty glass on the end
table. His face turned hot with shame as
he remembered his actions the previous day on the bridge. Young?
How could he have said that? How
could he have smiled? As if the Genesis
planet could make up for what had happened.
An entire galaxy wouldn't be worth what he had seen, in engineering ...
he imagined what it must have been like, the blue-hot radiation searing
everything in the chamber ...
Smiling. Feeling "young." Was it only the shock, or was there
something more? Was he trying to save
face in front of Carol? Carol ... if he
had never met her, David would never have been born, never have invented the
device ... no, Carol would have invented it regardless, but what if he hadn't
helped her to get that posting on Omicron VII ... put in a good word with Dr.
Silon ...
"Jim?"
He realized
he was staring straight through McCoy toward the stars and their silvery light,
the only light his sleep-starved eyes could tolerate. He blinked. "Sorry,
Bones."
"You
want something else to drink?"
"No
... " His guest quarters aboard
the Enterprise faded as Jim's attention withdrew again -- had it been only two
days ago that his biggest sorrow was over his birthday? He saw Spock now, in the bright sun of
Starfleet HQ, next to the ancient star map.
Happy birthday. Spock's right
there; I can touch him ... he felt an arm around his shoulders, was vaulted
back to the present. McCoy was here
with him. At least he wasn't alone; Jim
didn't think he could bear that right now.
Jim studied
McCoy's expression. He seemed composed,
well-adjusted, almost *too* calm. It
worried him; the calmness could be a sign that McCoy was about to reveal some
emotional truth. And the way it was
now, Jim needed full concentration to smother his emotions: hold it together, Jim; don't think too much
about ... . So he was in no state to
protect himself when McCoy sprang the trap.
"He loved you, you know, Jim.
In his own way."
Jim's
anguish blossomed from within then; he couldn't stop those first tears from
flowing; more easily followed. At least
he managed not to sob, not to break down and collapse into McCoy's arms,
managed to maintain some remnants of decorum.
He turned his face away from McCoy, ashamed of losing control. McCoy, the traitor, had mentioned the
L-word. Button pushed.
Jim didn't
know how long he sat crying there.
McCoy gave him a vacu-beam to dry his face; he took it. McCoy rubbed his shoulder; he let him. Jim drifted back and forth from the hard,
empty now to the past, when they were all together -- he and Bones and
Spock. He finally managed to regain
control of himself, but at some cost -- he found himself in a curious state,
blank, unfeeling.
He was so
numbed that he almost didn't notice at first a too-hot kiss on his cheek. He could only pull away, turning to stare at
McCoy, not finding words. In silhouette
from the dim starlight, his gaunt form almost looked like ...
"I had
always wanted to do that, Jim."
The voice
was low, hollow, not McCoy's usual tenor.
"What ... ?" Obviously
Jim had misheard. But he could have
sworn ... McCoy shivered, almost
seeming to reset. He blinked, dazed.
"Jim?" McCoy peered at him. "Did I just do what I ... "
"It's
okay, Bones." Jim sat back and
took a deep breath to calm himself.
"We've all been under a ... lot of stress." Then, although the room was not warm, Jim
felt sweat breaking out on his forehead.
But why ... unless the touch of McCoy's lips on his cheek hadn't been
entirely unpleasant. He also noticed
that he hadn't thought about Spock for almost five seconds.
Jim leaned
back, reaching out to pat McCoy's shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry about it,
Bones." Then he sighed. "I should be on the bridge," he
said, for lack of any better words, to avoid sinking into his dark thoughts
again.
"Did
you sleep last night, Jim?" The
awkward, too-personal moment had passed; they hung on to the mundane.
"No." He hadn't been able to; had walked through
the ship as if her decks and corridors could comfort him, but this wasn't
home. Wasn't his Enterprise.
"I
could give you a hypo. To depress the
nightmares ... "
"No." He turned to look at McCoy, felt his throat
tighten. "I'm not worried about
nightmares. My life *is* a nightmare."
McCoy
turned away, wiping one palm down the side of his neck. Jim felt his face grow hot, chastened that
he had upset his friend, who was doing his best to help. How selfish you're being, Jim! "I'm sorry, Bones, I didn't mean to be
so short. I just ... " McCoy turned slightly, to look at him
sidelong. "I just wish everything
could go away." With those words,
one tear did escape Jim's control to trickle down his face. What a stupid idea, anyway, that everything
should magically go away. Grow up,
Jim. He clasped his hands in his lap,
staring hard at them.
He was
surprised then, and more than a little comforted, when he felt McCoy's soothing
fingers, wiping his face dry. "It
can, you know." Bewildered, Jim
turned to study McCoy's face; his expression was one of barely-controlled
anguish. "Jim." He pierced him with his gaze. "I hurt, too."
"Oh,
Bones." Jim reached out for McCoy,
sighing as McCoy's head fell to rest on his shoulder. They wrapped their arms about each other; McCoy's body was slim
and frail, ribs easily discernible under his shirt. The thin chest heaved once in a sob -- of sadness or relief, Jim
didn't know. Jim's hands started to
move, stroking, first to soothe, then to arouse. McCoy's did the same. Jim
felt his trousers unseal as he unsealed McCoy's; neither one complained;
neither one stopped. Jim concentrated with
all his might on the pleasure he was giving and the pleasure he was receiving
in this human act -- this all-too-human act.
There was nothing else; only humans comforting each other.
"Jim,"
McCoy repeated in his familiar, smooth voice.
Jim drowned in the mantra as his pleasure intensified. And for a moment, just a moment, it all did
go away.
*
Jim sat up
with difficulty. The room was cold; he
shivered. He cleaned himself with the
vacubeam and then handed it to McCoy.
Jim stood, feeling age settling into his knees and hips, making his way
through the grey starlight to a closet.
There he found a blanket and pillow for McCoy, "If you want to
stay," he offered.
There was
no question of sharing a bunk. McCoy
spread the blanket on the couch. Jim
shuffled alone to the bedroom, stripped, and got into bed with his nightmares.
END
Challenge 68. Write a Kirk/McCoy
story from Kirk’s POV!