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]

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.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I figure you got some say in how what comes next happens. You ain't nearly ready for bridge duty but when you are, we'll figure how to handle Uhura. You know her better than I do."

The woman had never really caught his interest. She lacked vision. Or something.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

"I can handle her," Jim said, with a hint of a smirk. Okay, so he couldn't handle her the way he used to, but that was immaterial in this moment. "She's got a chip on her shoulder, and she's even more of an opportunist than I am, in the sense she'll cut you loose soon as look at you."

He could offer this, because it wasn't anything McCoy didn't know or couldn't find out, and Kirk had some sense of loyalty even if it shifted with the times. Right now, his lot was clearly with McCoy.

"It'll mean a lot to her to think she's got some pull with me, I think."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"I suspect now you ought to tell me the more entertaining part of your arrangement with her."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

"Entertaining part is that we've got--we had--an entertaining part," Kirk said. "She likes to play ice queen, but woman's got her itches, same as anyone."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"You figuring to scratch them for her if she gives you the chance again?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk's jaw set defiantly, as if with the force of restraint that kept him from lashing out at the apparent callousness of the question. How could he, Kirk wanted to snap.

But even if he did not know all McCoy did about his own body, he did know that Uhura hadn't ever only used one part of it. And decided, consciously, to focus on something else.

"Bitch left me high and dry," he said. "I get back on the bridge, she won't be the only one giving anyone a chance. I have no interest in seeing her satisfied."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

That cover model jaw of Kirk's set like a stone and McCoy bit back his laughter. Had the boy even wondered if he'd be able to get it up again? Or had he just rolled over and given up on his dick?

"I got a few allies she ain't sniffed out. You keep me posted, we can flank her, hell, hamstring her if necessary."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

He'd wondered only long enough to believe he remembered knowing that it was over, finished, that eunuchs were the ones trusted to keep their hands (and other parts) off the merchandise. What was more, he had yet to feel desire for anything beyond food and the occasional approval of McCoy.

A few allies. Unnamed, as yet. Not his staff--they weren't allies, they were under his thumb.

"I will," he nodded, behind it as much confirmation of his new loyalty as he had given. McCoy was batshit insane, but fuck if he wasn't a damn sight more interesting than Uhura had ever been. Or Pike. And Kirk had been living on the edge of the knife for a long time, now. The combination of dangerous ambition and belonging intoxicated.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He was coming along nicely. McCoy recognized that fervent glint in Kirk's eye.

McCoy stood from the table, grabbed the bottle they had started the night before, and jerked his head toward the couch in invitation. Two glasses.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

The idea that there was any attempt at seduction did not occur to him. Why should it? McCoy had the reins right now, had him at his mercy. Why bother?

So the invitation puzzled him, even as he rose and followed. His expression didn't quite show it, but there was an air to him that spoke to his waiting for the other shoe. Off-balance, and seeking it, but used to finding his feet.

He sat, wondering how McCoy had found that easy, watchful relaxation of his, and wondering if it could be found only in his own domains, or whether it translated to the outside world.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

There was a certain buzz to force. It was the simple pleasure of exerting force. But McCoy took his entertainments with more complexity. He had watched Pike - Pike forced pleasure from his victims, that got him off more surely than a cunt or an ass or a mouth. That was layered. McCoy had some grudging appreciation for that.

McCoy didn't force; McCoy seduced. Seduced until his victim chose him, used their own agency to place themselves under his hand without McCoy giving anything of himself. Jocelyn had been the major deviation from that pattern. Kirk... had potential.

He sprawled, on one side of the couch this time instead of his customary chair. The glasses thumped heavy on the table where he placed them so he could pour.

"What's the fucking matter? You suddenly take up teetolating?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk habitually seduced as well, but he pursued as often as he was pursued, and his manner lacked subtlety. As did his looks, typically. But he was young, and he'd not yet had to find out how that played when you weren't the freshest face on board. Though Chekov had been a demonstration, for sure.

And now, at least for now, the looks were gone. Even so, he wasn't interested in giving in, even if he'd known McCoy's plan. He didn't put out for nothing. He wanted something in return. Once he figured out what he was offering.

"Fuck no," he said. Alcohol, he figured, had just become a lot more important to his daily entertainment. "Got a lot on my mind, is all." He jerked his head towards the glasses. "I know better than to refuse good liquor."