Detente

[sharpestscalpel]

It had chaffed at first. Jocelyn had left him to rot, pissed as hell about the kid. He’d mulled over vivid revenge fantasies until, the first time he saw her afterwards, he’d had to clench his fists in his pockets so they wouldn’t reach out of their own accord and settle over her fine collarbones and reel her in for a taste old-fashioned McCoy justice like spit in her eye.

But in the end, he hadn’t blamed her. She was a conniver and he hadn’t ever been as willing a participant in her scheme as she’d have liked. Jocelyn had deserved a shot a making it on her own terms. She’d taken that chance.

She hadn’t done half-bad for herself, McCoy had to admit. But then, neither had he. Especially considering where Pike had found him. Every day spent in solitary – it had worn on him, made him tired and angry and hungry for hurting things in ways he’d never been on the outside.

Pike had come, waving a shiny new medical license and a Fleet uniform, an offer too good to pass up. CMO of the Fleet’s fancy new darling of a flagship or shitting his bed out of boredom inside four walls with no windows? At least in space he’d see the stars.

The stars and pretty little officers all dressed up like they were real shitting captains. Uhura strode over to his table, tiny body full of energy and violence in a way that made her extra appealing to look at, and took the other seat without asking.

“McCoy, what the hell?” Uhura hadn’t really counted on Kirk coming back. She surveyed the emaciated man – she’d teased him about his slim hips but this was ridiculous – sitting slightly behind the doctor, watching everything from those haunted blue eyes.

Uhura was the one chaffing now, all the power she’d thought she had coming with a ride-along, circumscribed from being absolute. She had the ship. But McCoy had his sickbay. And she’d eventually need it, need him. Pike had given McCoy more than he’d expected – but he’d still fucked them both because they were stuck with each other.

“You want to make this an official conversation, we can take it back to your office… Captain.” The pause was significant, not quite insulting but certainly not currying favor.

Her headshake was minimal but definite. Their dependence on one another wasn’t known – and she’d prefer to keep it that way. McCoy had never made a play for power that Uhura knew of but he’d have all of her enemies rallying behind him if the stalemate became common knowledge.

“Kirk.” Uhura acknowledged him at least. He had his rank, she’d checked the computer records. He’d need McCoy to clear him for duty before he could set foot on the bridge and even then Uhura wasn’t about to trust the blond man. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to see him alive, especially if being in the good doctor’s care mean McCoy had something invested in him. There was some sort of opportunity here, she just had to sniff it out.

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[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk regarded him silently for a moment, natural distrust at the kindness, the caresses, at war with his hunger for the attention. He was only aware of the former, but his conflict was evident. He did not like that McCoy seemed to think of him as a pet, to be punished and rewarded at his will. But then again, Kirk had decided to go along with him, to accept his protection, in the absence of other opportunities. And yet, he could not entirely suppress his gratitude at being let off so easily, at the prospect of rest, of a safe space.

He could still feel McCoy's lips on his neck, not arousing per se but a lingering tingle, and felt a renewal of his confusion. Why was McCoy holding back? He hadn't in the brig, he perverse delight in what he saw acted upon from the safety of the hallway. Now he had Kirk entirely at his mercy (if he chose to exert it) and thus far his liberties had been minimal. Kirk didn't understand. Unless McCoy only got off on watching, on himself. Maybe that was it.

"I don't need to be coddled," he said, a reaction against his pleasure at McCoy's approval. "I know I fucked up, but I'm not a child."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I figured you for a child, you wouldn't be much of my concern, Blue. I don't coddle."

It was with matter of fact attitude that he opened the door, waited for Kirk to pass through it in a display of manners of some sort.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

After a moment, Kirk nodded, satisfied that he'd said his piece. So it was back to Blue, was it? Kirk didn't mind. He'd never liked the name Jimmy.

He passed through the door, in direct violation of the instinct to protect his back. McCoy could have fucked him over six ways from Sunday ten times over by this point. As a statement, then, it wasn't very powerful.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

The walk back to McCoy's quarters was a short and silent one - silent but for McCoy's evident, almost audible satisfaction with himself and with the way things were developing.

His first move, back in the room, was to toe off his boots. The second, was to consider the options from the replicator.

"You hungry for anything in particular?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

McCoy was disconcerting, like this, in his very familiarity. There was something just slightly off about him, but it was difficult to put one's finger on. But the sly kindness and the contrast to Pike, among others, were taking their toll on Kirk, who was already impressed with the man's cunning. He knew he should be worried about what was making McCoy so happy, except part of him hoped it was him and didn't want to unpack that feeling further, afraid of what he might find when there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Kirk was hungry for anything.

"A cheeseburger." He said the first thing that came into his mind. And after a slight hesitation, "And pie."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy nodded and ordered dinner for them both. The cheeseburgers came with fries. The pie, with ice cream slowly melting down the side of each slice.

Instead of handing Kirk his plate and retreating to his console as he had for their previous shared meals, McCoy moved to the able and waited for Kirk to join him. You ate fucking supper at a table, all there was too it.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Even replicated, the smell had his mouth watering before he reached the table. Which he did, quickly. He wasn't sure what this new game was, but he cast his glance between the plate and McCoy's face. And then he picked up the burger, pausing as if to test the weight of it in his hands. His stomach had shrunk but this couldn't even begin to fill the hole inside him.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy ate his pie first.

The ice cream would melt, otherwise.

He speared a piece of fruit that had escaped and watched Kirk.

"I figure it'll be a while before you're up to conversation when there's food in the damn place. Typical, so I ain't bothered. And I figure it'll give me a fucking chance to tell you this: Scotty'll fuck you up. Which I am sure you think you know, but I've treated too many surprised idiots who thought drunk equaled stupid."

He licked fruit juice and ice cream off his fork.

"He ever tries to talk to you, call me."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

He could feel the first bite work its way down to his stomach. The taste had exploded on his tongue. He had always thought the food here sucked, but he'd been dead wrong. He wondered why he hadn't been at the replicator all night last night.

He took two more bites and watched McCoy lick his fork before swallowing and forcing himself to ask, "Just talk to me?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy started in on his burger - rare, perhaps unsurprisingly - and nodded around the bite he was chewing.

"Even if it's just talk. He's an unpredictable motherfucker and he never just talks for the sake of talk. If Uhura's cut him out of warp core access, I reckon she's making some sort of statement about him needing to mind his loyalties. He'll be extra goddamn pissed off about that - man doesn't give a fuck who's in charge as long as he's got his fucking engines."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Nodding, Kirk started in on his pie. He'd more or less inhaled the burger, but it didn't seem likely to come back up--seemed he was getting better. He didn't much like being "schooled" by McCoy but he set that aside, too, as a necessary evil.

Half the pie gone (even soggy with melted ice cream, it tasted like heaven), he felt up to speaking again. "How come you haven't made a move yet? You been waiting all these years, or just found an opportunity you can't refuse?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy considered his answer around a mouthful of food. His chewing was thoughtful.

"Ain't an easy answer. First of all, what do I need with being captain? I could take Pike out - it would have been a satisfying challenge, I suspect, smart man that he is. But then what? I still got admiralty that wants me back in jail and that'd be their excuse. Meanwhile, whole ship would be after my hide. I like fucking sleeping sometimes."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

He answered so easily, Kirk was feeling bold. He shoved the last bit of pie in his mouth, chewed thoroughly, and swallowed. "So you don't need to stay on Pike's good side," assuming he had one, "and now you see an opening."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"It's mostly something like that. That and I might be a touch bit bored. I ain't ambitious, Blue, that's the first thing. Ambition is a bitch in a fancy dress. But there's some opportunities too good to pass up."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

And whether that was a compliment or not, he was part of that opportunity. And that gave him a certain sort of power, even if he couldn't fully exercise it yet. But he needed to be aware of his own opportunities. He knew he'd pleased McCoy--maybe even by displeasing him initially.

Kirk was ambitious. He knew this more intellectually now than viscerally, but it was good to keep in mind. And he would remain vigilant.

"Your M'Benga must be a fucking good doctor," he said finally, "because he fucks like construction equipment."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Kirk was feeling out the boundaries, finding his place. Goddamn good - it was about fucking time.

"M'Benga ain't bad. But he can't keep his hands to himself, he's going to lose some fingers. I got no tolerance for him backing my nurses into a corner."

Asshole. He touched Chapel again, M'Benga would regret it. And not because McCoy would come after him - he'd just turn Christine loose on the wayward doctor for herself. She knew better than to cut much out of anyone's hide, especially after that debacle with Spock. But with permission, she'd make M'Benga's last hours hellish. Fucking rapist.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

McCoy took care of his own--in a manner of speaking. Kirk had gotten that, too, from his little show with the nurse. But it was to his own idea of what that meant. Kirk wondered if it could be predicted, if McCoy's eccentricities and foibles were consistent. It would be interesting to see. There was a sort of leadership there Kirk had not recognized before, but it lacked vision. Or at least, a distinct end other than McCoy's comfort. That was what Kirk judged to be the case.

So if McCoy were comfortable, Kirk thought, those qualities could be harnessed. And if he could remain interesting without being uncomfortable for him, he could take part in that. And McCoy was taking him into his confidence. Letting him know what level he was at. Where he belonged.

"Where else you have in mind to go?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I figured to visit Chapel, give her a nod that M'Benga's back in his doctor's blues." She'd need to keep her eyes sharp. "And I considered dropping by the kitchen to see what's fresh."

The replicator was... adequate but fresh, when it could be trusted, was always better. McCoy and Lewis had certain agreements.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Those seemed like acutely domestic errands to have him tag along on, but then, other than Uhura Kirk figured it wasn't about the actual errands. For all he knew, McCoy hadn't intended anything but that trip to sickbay, whatever excuse he had to come up with. Show of strength, and then a demonstration of his good graces. After all, it was either that, or he was making up the part about Chapel, unless he'd always intended to reinstate M'Benga today.

He was fascinated by what might happen next. As much as he feared it.

"And then?" he prompted. "To relax?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"You asking what I do for fun, Jimmy-boy?" McCoy's eyes were amused, his lips quirked in a lazy grin. "Visits to Chapel're almost always relaxing. But I was considering the gym."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

"I got some idea what you do for fun," Kirk tossed back. Though so far, it had all been self-directed, and he was wondering where he fit in. McCoy didn't seem particularly at a loss for his free time--Kirk wasn't here because of his overriding loneliness.

The gym. Kirk used to go, somewhat obviously, on a regular basis. But if he showed up there now, his weakness would be not just obvious but explicit. He had yet to really ask for anything, an asking made it seem like McCoy had all the power in the relationship. Which he did--this was his space.

"Weights," he said. "I should have some, here."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Wouldn't be a bad fucking idea. If you can be trusted not to fucking brain me in the middle of the night with a goddamn barbell. That'd fuck my face up, I'm pretty sure."

McCoy gathered their empty plates, half-unconscious tidying. He wasn't particularly fastidious but his mama had raised him neat.

There were other things Kirk could use as a weapon if he were bent on it. But McCoy wanted to push a little.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

The lines in Kirk's face deepened.

"With your face, yeah, I'd be worried," he said. What did the man want? McCoy knew Kirk had no where else to go, had no call to bite this hand. Not just now, anyway. Kirk could kill him with a stylus, if he wanted to, so a barbell--especially at whatever weight Kirk was likely capable of just now--hardly made a difference. "I've got no interest in making you uglier."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy snorted. He wasn't vain. But he wasn't blind either.

"What are you interested in at the moment, Jimmy-boy? Besides the weights, which I'll have brought to you."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk was, obviously, testing his limits, as McCoy was testing them. His crack had nothing to do with McCoy's actual appearance, but the question of what he could get away with. The ability to react as if without fear. The attempt to regain some face of his own. It looked like McCoy could handle some of that--though it may only have been that it was patently obvious Kirk was exercising the only weapon he had.

But he thought about McCoy's question. It hadn't occurred to him to be interested in much, lately, beyond survival and food, not necessarily in that order. He was interested in having his balls back, along with his body and his position and his alliances and all the rest. But none of that was going to come easy, and some not ever.

"I guess," he said, mulling it over, "I'm interested in seeing what comes next." And what power he had to shape it. And he was almost desperately interested in McCoy, in a way he could not articulate even if he had been foolish enough to want to. What he wanted, what he was, why he was doing this. What any of it meant. Why he hadn't had at Kirk yet. "Guess I'm interested in those opportunities you spoke of, once." He always was, or had been. It was slowly growing back.