[fic] Happy Hour of Assault and the Kiss
Oct. 21st, 2012 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
akainagiTitle: Happy Hour of Assault and the Kiss
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
akainagi
Rating/Warnings/Spoilers: NC-17 / sex and hopeless sap / Spoilers for XI
Fandom/Pairing/Prompt: Star Trek AOS, Kirk/McCoy, prompt: Beginning
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Star Trek.
Summary: Bones chases after Jim again. And discovers why Jim always lets himself get caught. Sequel to "Blood of Old Supplications". It helps if you read that first.
Author's Note: The title is from the Pablo Neruda poem "A Song of Despair".
The crew roster wasn’t finalized until the day before the Enterprise relaunch. Leonard knew his own posting with some surety, thank God, but he had still been relieved to see it there in print. The rest of the senior crew he had been more concerned about. Even the doctor, with his allergy to ‘fleet politics, knew that there was heavy behind-the-scenes posturing regarding appointments on the flagship. He wouldn’t have put it past one of the brass to try and shove through a change at the last minute, despite the fact that the selection of senior officers was technically under the purview of the ship’s captain.
And so the Enterprise’s newly appointed CMO scanned the names on his PADD with some mild trepidation. Relief took over when he saw the familiar names: Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Scott. All under the command of the youngest captain in Starfleet history. And then he saw the glaring absence under the heading of first officer.
That would explain the equally glaring absence of James T. Kirk from the dorms, and why no one on the Academy campus had seen him since the roster was released several hours before.
***
Leonard fucking hated these stairs.
The shrine was just as deserted in the late evening as is was in the early morning, the doctor noted as he heaved himself up the last of the stone steps. He huffed as he caught sight of his target, partly in annoyance, partly from exertion. Leonard had gone through these motions several times in the last few weeks, and was far past feeling like an intruder. If Jim didn’t want to be found, he would just have to pick a better hiding spot.
The man in question was sitting on his favorite bench, looking up at a sky that was just starting to darken, an enigmatic expression on his face.
“Dammit, Jim. I’m a doctor not an athlete. Next time you want to brood, can you pick someplace with fewer stairs?” The grumbling felt more like a formality, however, as he sat down heavily next to the younger man.
To Leonard’s surprise, a smile flitted across Jim’s face. “I’m not brooding.”
“Sure, Kid,” Leonard replied sarcastically.
The small, honest smile grew. “I’m not.”
Apparently he wasn’t. “So you mind telling me what you’re doing here? I thought you only came here for – and I quote – ‘pathetic emo brooding.’”
“Sometimes. And sometimes I come here when I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“The crew roster?”
“The crew roster.”
So this was about the hobgoblin. Leonard squashed down a nascent emotion that felt an awful lot like jealousy. It had taken him over three years of patience and (although he would deny it if asked) effort to gain the place he enjoyed in Jim’s life. And Spock, it seemed, had gained nearly equal footing with no effort at all. Rather with outright ambivalence. The doctor sighed and squashed the feeling of resentment. It wasn't the kid's fault Leonard was more emotionally invested in their relationship than he probably should be.
“Look, I know you had your heart set on Spock as your First –“
Jim huffed a small chuckle. “I’m not out here going all emo because of Spock. He’s off to do his Vulcan duty. Yeah, I would’ve been stoked to have him as a number one, but I’ll deal. He’s not why I’m out here.”
Leonard let his brows draw together in honest confusion. “Then why the hell are you out here?”
Jim finally turned from his survey of the sky. The light in his blue eyes was even more startling than usual. “I’m not brooding, or sulking, or anything in the pathetic emo family. I’m fucking relieved.”
“Relieved?” The doctor could only parrot back in his confusion.
“Yeah. Relief. Coming down on me like a tsunami the second I read the assignments.”
Leonard said nothing, waiting for his friend to continue.
“I’m 25, Bones," Jim tried to explain, his expression earnest. "If I had a credit for every time I’ve heard the phrase ‘youngest captain in history’ in the past few weeks, I’d have one shitload of credits. I was sure they were going to stick me with a bridge crew of babysitters almost twice my age. Sure, we all saved the planet together, but that doesn’t mean a thing in the world of ‘fleet politics. And when you get to command crews, 85 percent of that crap is political.”
The older man felt a dawning understanding. It had not been real. Not until that crew roster had come out a few hours ago. Not real enough for Jim, anyway.
“I didn’t realize until I read those names how shit-scared I was that they weren’t gonna give me Scotty, Sulu, Uhura, even that spastic Russian kid. And I need them, Bones. They’re my people.”
Leonard couldn’t help note his own absence in that list. “And am I one of your people?” The second the words left his mouth he wanted to shove them back.
Jim gifted him with a wide smile this time, warm and heart-stopping. “Nah, not people. You’re just mine.”
Leave it to Jim Kirk to make a declaration like that with little preamble and no warning. And then to sit there calmly like he had just commented on the weather. Only the tense set of his jaw and the carriage of his shoulders, barely conveyed in the dimming light, revealed that Jim recognized the gravity of his own statement.
It felt like an invitation. But not one so obvious that it couldn’t be brushed off. A typical Jim Kirk way of dealing with interpersonal relations; carefully hedged bets to avoid over-exposure and limit potential loss. A testament to a life that had seen an abundance of loss. Leonard’s heart ached a little with sympathy even as it accelerated with anticipation.
Leonard slowly brought his hand to rest against the side of the younger man’s neck; too intimate a gesture for a friend, but appropriate for what he wanted to be to Jim now. Had wanted to be to him for some time. Years, maybe, if he were being totally honest.
Jim’s eyes widened infinitesimally and his lips quirked. Leaning in hesitantly, he seemed, for once, unsure. Unsure of what, Leonard didn’t know. As if a sane person would refuse what Leonard sincerely hoped Jim was offering.
The young captain’s lips belied the hesitancy of his countenance. They were firm against the doctor’s own; sure where the rest of him was not. Jim was well-versed in the art of kissing. The act was lazy, and thorough, and Leonard responded in kind. A small thrill ran up his spine, resulting in a brief tremor through his hands where they moved to cup his friend’s Jaw. God, he felt all of sixteen again, and rather than being embarrassing, it was heady and sweet.
A telltale flash from the right, and Leonard pulled away abruptly, ready to snarl at the intruder. A woman (girl, really – she couldn’t be out of her teens) stood holding a 2-D camera. Definitely not your conventional paparazzi.
A sound bubbled up from beside him and he realized Jim was laughing. Loudly and unreservedly. It would have been captivating if Leonard wasn’t so annoyed at the interruption. The interloper grinned and said something in a foreign tongue – Japanese if she resembled the shrine’s general body of patrons. Jim’s name was sandwiched in between the flood of words Leonard couldn’t recognize. Jim replied in the in kind, and the doctor began feeling his ire rise at being left out of the conversation, especially considering what they had just been doing. He watched the pair for for a moment, his jaw set in annoyance, while Jim shot off a few more lines of gibberish. The grinning girl punched a series of keys on her comm, bowed to them both and flounced off to find someone else to terrorize.
“Tell me you did not just hit on that kid and I won’t have to kill you on the spot.”
“Geez, Bones. Saya’s not even legal. What kind of guy do you think I am?” The Jim Kirk cockiness was back in full force. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
“So you weren’t just giving her you comm number?”
“Oh, I so totally was,” Jim grinned. “But only so she could send me a copy of that picture. Bet it was hot.”
Leonard honest-to-god blushed. Christ, the indignity. “As long as she doesn’t sell a copy to the tabloids,” he grumbled.
“Nah, she’s a good kid. Her family runs this place. And I really do want a copy of that picture. She says we’re 'adorable.'” Jim’s smile reached Cheshire proportions as he fisted his hand loosely in Leonard’s shirt and tugged him over for another kiss.
The doctor allowed a few long seconds of the pleasurable activity before pulling reluctantly away. He tried not to feel a pang of guilt at the return of uncertainty to Jim’s face.
“I just don’t feel like any more photo-ops. I don’t object to the activities,” he reassured gruffly. “Just the venue. “
Jim’s expression turned warm once more, with an edge of sultriness that suffused Leonard's body with heat. Ever persistent, Jim dipped in and took the older man's lips again, softly this time. Then Leonard felt the wide smile and the murmur against his own mouth. “Then let’s go find someplace that meets with your approval.”
-----
Sliding into Jim for the first time felt simultaneously like a beginning and a completion.
Leonard watched the expressions play over the man beneath him. Jim was subtler in bed than he had expected, during the few occasions he had allowed himself to entertain the topic. Jim wasn’t overly loud or demonstrative. Yet he made his appreciation abundantly clear. From the soft gasp as Leonard finally slid himself home, to the arch of his back at the first experimental thrust, to the way he reached out, hands grasping, urging Leonard closer.
That was not to say that Jim was silent, however. Never that.
“God, you feel amazing,” the younger man murmured in between the hitching of his own breath. Jim's gaze was magnetic, the vibrant blue of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils. “Look amazing. Fuck. If you could see yourself, Bones.”
The doctor was quite enjoying the view he had; the expanse of pale skin, wiry limbs reaching and wrapping themselves around Leonard’s waist, around his neck. Pulling closer, trapping Jim’s erection between them and seemingly trying to merge them into a single entity.
Leonard pressed his lips against Jim’s stubbled jaw, gave a gentle bite, and murmured something himself. He had no idea what. God, he’d say anything, he was so far gone with need.
Their leisurely pace quickened slightly, and then more, because how could Leonard not be inflamed with the way that Jim was urging him on with hips and lips and blunt nails down his back and fucking writhing beneath him? The filthy-sweet things coming out of Jim’s mouth and the tilt of his body propelled Leonard towards his climax, silent and inevitable and huge. It broke over him and he could dimly feel the warmth of Jim’s own release between them, hot and wet against his skin, before everything surged and burst into white.
-----
Leonard decided he liked his new office on the Enterprise. Small, functional, if a little sterile. And his. His office. His sickbay. He was quite fond of possessive pronouns at the moment.
“And am I one of your people?”
“Nah, not people. You’re just mine.”
The framed image that looked at Leonard from his desk was subtly angled away from prying eyes. Displaying another thing that was his.
Author:
akainagiRating/Warnings/Spoilers: NC-17 / sex and hopeless sap / Spoilers for XI
Fandom/Pairing/Prompt: Star Trek AOS, Kirk/McCoy, prompt: Beginning
Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Star Trek.
Summary: Bones chases after Jim again. And discovers why Jim always lets himself get caught. Sequel to "Blood of Old Supplications". It helps if you read that first.
Author's Note: The title is from the Pablo Neruda poem "A Song of Despair".
The crew roster wasn’t finalized until the day before the Enterprise relaunch. Leonard knew his own posting with some surety, thank God, but he had still been relieved to see it there in print. The rest of the senior crew he had been more concerned about. Even the doctor, with his allergy to ‘fleet politics, knew that there was heavy behind-the-scenes posturing regarding appointments on the flagship. He wouldn’t have put it past one of the brass to try and shove through a change at the last minute, despite the fact that the selection of senior officers was technically under the purview of the ship’s captain.
And so the Enterprise’s newly appointed CMO scanned the names on his PADD with some mild trepidation. Relief took over when he saw the familiar names: Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Scott. All under the command of the youngest captain in Starfleet history. And then he saw the glaring absence under the heading of first officer.
That would explain the equally glaring absence of James T. Kirk from the dorms, and why no one on the Academy campus had seen him since the roster was released several hours before.
***
Leonard fucking hated these stairs.
The shrine was just as deserted in the late evening as is was in the early morning, the doctor noted as he heaved himself up the last of the stone steps. He huffed as he caught sight of his target, partly in annoyance, partly from exertion. Leonard had gone through these motions several times in the last few weeks, and was far past feeling like an intruder. If Jim didn’t want to be found, he would just have to pick a better hiding spot.
The man in question was sitting on his favorite bench, looking up at a sky that was just starting to darken, an enigmatic expression on his face.
“Dammit, Jim. I’m a doctor not an athlete. Next time you want to brood, can you pick someplace with fewer stairs?” The grumbling felt more like a formality, however, as he sat down heavily next to the younger man.
To Leonard’s surprise, a smile flitted across Jim’s face. “I’m not brooding.”
“Sure, Kid,” Leonard replied sarcastically.
The small, honest smile grew. “I’m not.”
Apparently he wasn’t. “So you mind telling me what you’re doing here? I thought you only came here for – and I quote – ‘pathetic emo brooding.’”
“Sometimes. And sometimes I come here when I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
“The crew roster?”
“The crew roster.”
So this was about the hobgoblin. Leonard squashed down a nascent emotion that felt an awful lot like jealousy. It had taken him over three years of patience and (although he would deny it if asked) effort to gain the place he enjoyed in Jim’s life. And Spock, it seemed, had gained nearly equal footing with no effort at all. Rather with outright ambivalence. The doctor sighed and squashed the feeling of resentment. It wasn't the kid's fault Leonard was more emotionally invested in their relationship than he probably should be.
“Look, I know you had your heart set on Spock as your First –“
Jim huffed a small chuckle. “I’m not out here going all emo because of Spock. He’s off to do his Vulcan duty. Yeah, I would’ve been stoked to have him as a number one, but I’ll deal. He’s not why I’m out here.”
Leonard let his brows draw together in honest confusion. “Then why the hell are you out here?”
Jim finally turned from his survey of the sky. The light in his blue eyes was even more startling than usual. “I’m not brooding, or sulking, or anything in the pathetic emo family. I’m fucking relieved.”
“Relieved?” The doctor could only parrot back in his confusion.
“Yeah. Relief. Coming down on me like a tsunami the second I read the assignments.”
Leonard said nothing, waiting for his friend to continue.
“I’m 25, Bones," Jim tried to explain, his expression earnest. "If I had a credit for every time I’ve heard the phrase ‘youngest captain in history’ in the past few weeks, I’d have one shitload of credits. I was sure they were going to stick me with a bridge crew of babysitters almost twice my age. Sure, we all saved the planet together, but that doesn’t mean a thing in the world of ‘fleet politics. And when you get to command crews, 85 percent of that crap is political.”
The older man felt a dawning understanding. It had not been real. Not until that crew roster had come out a few hours ago. Not real enough for Jim, anyway.
“I didn’t realize until I read those names how shit-scared I was that they weren’t gonna give me Scotty, Sulu, Uhura, even that spastic Russian kid. And I need them, Bones. They’re my people.”
Leonard couldn’t help note his own absence in that list. “And am I one of your people?” The second the words left his mouth he wanted to shove them back.
Jim gifted him with a wide smile this time, warm and heart-stopping. “Nah, not people. You’re just mine.”
Leave it to Jim Kirk to make a declaration like that with little preamble and no warning. And then to sit there calmly like he had just commented on the weather. Only the tense set of his jaw and the carriage of his shoulders, barely conveyed in the dimming light, revealed that Jim recognized the gravity of his own statement.
It felt like an invitation. But not one so obvious that it couldn’t be brushed off. A typical Jim Kirk way of dealing with interpersonal relations; carefully hedged bets to avoid over-exposure and limit potential loss. A testament to a life that had seen an abundance of loss. Leonard’s heart ached a little with sympathy even as it accelerated with anticipation.
Leonard slowly brought his hand to rest against the side of the younger man’s neck; too intimate a gesture for a friend, but appropriate for what he wanted to be to Jim now. Had wanted to be to him for some time. Years, maybe, if he were being totally honest.
Jim’s eyes widened infinitesimally and his lips quirked. Leaning in hesitantly, he seemed, for once, unsure. Unsure of what, Leonard didn’t know. As if a sane person would refuse what Leonard sincerely hoped Jim was offering.
The young captain’s lips belied the hesitancy of his countenance. They were firm against the doctor’s own; sure where the rest of him was not. Jim was well-versed in the art of kissing. The act was lazy, and thorough, and Leonard responded in kind. A small thrill ran up his spine, resulting in a brief tremor through his hands where they moved to cup his friend’s Jaw. God, he felt all of sixteen again, and rather than being embarrassing, it was heady and sweet.
A telltale flash from the right, and Leonard pulled away abruptly, ready to snarl at the intruder. A woman (girl, really – she couldn’t be out of her teens) stood holding a 2-D camera. Definitely not your conventional paparazzi.
A sound bubbled up from beside him and he realized Jim was laughing. Loudly and unreservedly. It would have been captivating if Leonard wasn’t so annoyed at the interruption. The interloper grinned and said something in a foreign tongue – Japanese if she resembled the shrine’s general body of patrons. Jim’s name was sandwiched in between the flood of words Leonard couldn’t recognize. Jim replied in the in kind, and the doctor began feeling his ire rise at being left out of the conversation, especially considering what they had just been doing. He watched the pair for for a moment, his jaw set in annoyance, while Jim shot off a few more lines of gibberish. The grinning girl punched a series of keys on her comm, bowed to them both and flounced off to find someone else to terrorize.
“Tell me you did not just hit on that kid and I won’t have to kill you on the spot.”
“Geez, Bones. Saya’s not even legal. What kind of guy do you think I am?” The Jim Kirk cockiness was back in full force. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
“So you weren’t just giving her you comm number?”
“Oh, I so totally was,” Jim grinned. “But only so she could send me a copy of that picture. Bet it was hot.”
Leonard honest-to-god blushed. Christ, the indignity. “As long as she doesn’t sell a copy to the tabloids,” he grumbled.
“Nah, she’s a good kid. Her family runs this place. And I really do want a copy of that picture. She says we’re 'adorable.'” Jim’s smile reached Cheshire proportions as he fisted his hand loosely in Leonard’s shirt and tugged him over for another kiss.
The doctor allowed a few long seconds of the pleasurable activity before pulling reluctantly away. He tried not to feel a pang of guilt at the return of uncertainty to Jim’s face.
“I just don’t feel like any more photo-ops. I don’t object to the activities,” he reassured gruffly. “Just the venue. “
Jim’s expression turned warm once more, with an edge of sultriness that suffused Leonard's body with heat. Ever persistent, Jim dipped in and took the older man's lips again, softly this time. Then Leonard felt the wide smile and the murmur against his own mouth. “Then let’s go find someplace that meets with your approval.”
Sliding into Jim for the first time felt simultaneously like a beginning and a completion.
Leonard watched the expressions play over the man beneath him. Jim was subtler in bed than he had expected, during the few occasions he had allowed himself to entertain the topic. Jim wasn’t overly loud or demonstrative. Yet he made his appreciation abundantly clear. From the soft gasp as Leonard finally slid himself home, to the arch of his back at the first experimental thrust, to the way he reached out, hands grasping, urging Leonard closer.
That was not to say that Jim was silent, however. Never that.
“God, you feel amazing,” the younger man murmured in between the hitching of his own breath. Jim's gaze was magnetic, the vibrant blue of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils. “Look amazing. Fuck. If you could see yourself, Bones.”
The doctor was quite enjoying the view he had; the expanse of pale skin, wiry limbs reaching and wrapping themselves around Leonard’s waist, around his neck. Pulling closer, trapping Jim’s erection between them and seemingly trying to merge them into a single entity.
Leonard pressed his lips against Jim’s stubbled jaw, gave a gentle bite, and murmured something himself. He had no idea what. God, he’d say anything, he was so far gone with need.
Their leisurely pace quickened slightly, and then more, because how could Leonard not be inflamed with the way that Jim was urging him on with hips and lips and blunt nails down his back and fucking writhing beneath him? The filthy-sweet things coming out of Jim’s mouth and the tilt of his body propelled Leonard towards his climax, silent and inevitable and huge. It broke over him and he could dimly feel the warmth of Jim’s own release between them, hot and wet against his skin, before everything surged and burst into white.
Leonard decided he liked his new office on the Enterprise. Small, functional, if a little sterile. And his. His office. His sickbay. He was quite fond of possessive pronouns at the moment.
“And am I one of your people?”
“Nah, not people. You’re just mine.”
The framed image that looked at Leonard from his desk was subtly angled away from prying eyes. Displaying another thing that was his.
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Date: 2012-10-21 11:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-10-22 08:09 pm (UTC)