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 raised his glass.

"And that'd be different from now how, exactly?"

But the question wasn't self-pitying as much as self-deprecating, which was a different thing and spoke to a tiny spark of humor that lingered. He sipped appreciatively.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

It won a chuckle from him.

"You ain't as bad off as you seem to think. Cosmetics'll come back."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk hid the answering spark of pleasure at having elicited that chuckle, and thought about how bad off he was. Bad enough off to require this protection. To be weak as a kitten on his own, probably done in by now if McCoy hadn't taken him in. Or someone else might have.

"I'm alive," was what Kirk could agree to. "The face was an asset, sure, but hardly the only thing I got fucked up for myself."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"You want my fucking medical advice, you need to eat more. Replicator ain't locked. Eat 'til you figure you're sick. And use those weights. You know how that shit works."

McCoy considered Kirk, as though the blond were a problem to which he might have a solution - then he shook his head.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk watched McCoy watch him for a moment.

"I'm not stupid," he said. "I've seen enough people eat till they are sick and I'm not interested in wasting any more." He hadn't forgotten, either, McCoy's own lesson to him on that score, and his throat still rebelled at the thought. And no, he wasn't starving anymore, and food wasn't scarce. But it felt precious to him nonetheless, as if, retroactively, he had been one of those unfortunates on Tarsus. "Figured I couldn't trust myself exactly until just recently. And I don't know if you were watching me in that little room, but I didn't waste too much time there, either."

He'd paced, essentially. And while incapable of doing push-ups, he'd used his body's slight resistance pushing against the biobed.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy nodded acknowledgement over his drink.

"I might do some monitoring of that room. For my patient's own well-being, of course."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Yeah, Kirk just bet. He watched him over his own drink, and then took a sip.

"You ain't a half-bad doctor, I'll give you that," he said, choosing to take McCoy's words at face value knowing McCoy knew he didn't fully believe them. His own, he meant. McCoy was a good doctor, everything else aside.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Half-bad. McCoy snorted to himself, a quiet sound. He was a fucking amazing doctor. Pike hadn't pulled him out for his good goddamn looks - he'd needed the best.

"Yeah, well, only the best and brightest, or didn't you ever fucking hear that? Pike might be an asshole but he picked the litter, Blue. Word was you were a fucking tactical genius."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Seemed compliments flowed a little easier here, or maybe it was the ale. Kirk was fighting his own acceptance of the situation, curbing his hidden desire to give in.

"Yeah, I heard that," he said wryly. "I figure that'll come back, too."

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"It'd be damn useful."

Not just on the bridge, not just on the ship. Jocelyn was pretty fucking masterful in her dealings but if they were going to start stirring the pot with more energy, a cook who could see the pot boiling over would be useful.

Which was a strained goddamn metaphor but fuck it; he was a shitting doctor, not a poet.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk felt the urge to reassure McCoy that his investment was warranted, but that impulse was tricky. It was important to gain others' trust in one's abilities or loyalty (however transitory), but you risked opening yourself up to weakness.

"It will be," he said firmly, his eyes meeting McCoy's. He was in. He didn't even have second thoughts--he would throw in his lot with McCoy, both because he had no choice and because he was starting to forget that.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

McCoy refilled Kirk's glass.

"I'm pretty fucking confident in that matter. I weren't, I wouldn't've told Jos about you, I tell you goddamn what."

He wasn't good at sustained conversation, had really only managed the trick of it with Jos. He didn't talk to people, especially not about himself. So McCoy just leaned his head back on the couch cushions and soaked in the potential.

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk watched him. He didn't know that about McCoy, of course. Not yet. Any awkwardness was well explained by the entire goddamned situation. But Kirk was pretty fascinated by Jos.

"What did you tell her?" he asked, looking down and taking another sip, more for something to do than anything else.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He kept his head back and his eyes closed, relaxed.

"Just enough to tweak her direct in the brainpan. She's got some info on you I bet she's not sharing, though - greedy fucking woman. Her husband has a higher clearance, which comes in useful from time to goddamn time. What do you want her to know?"

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk knew that, that tidbit about Tarsus being proof enough. "I figure there's not a lot I could tell a woman like that she doesn't already know," he said. "I, on the other hand, don't know shit about her." Though it was clear McCoy trusted her. Which was interesting, under the circumstances. "She trust you?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Jocelyn McCoy" McCoy almost sounded goddamn nostalgic. "I reckon she does. In most things. Feeling's fucking mutual." He raised his glass in something like a contemplative, long-distance toast.

"Don't let face fool you - that woman is a steel trap. She's got a brain working all the time behind some truly vapid fucking expressions. Which she practice, I tell you goddamn what."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk knew all about that, from both sides. He also figured anyone McCoy would talk about in that tone wasn't just some pieces of snatch. Though he had no doubt that, too, was quality.

"How'd you meet?" he prompted, both because the two of them made no sense and because he wanted to keep McCoy talking, while he was in the mood.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He cracked an eye open at that but the lid settled back into place and McCoy settled deeper, slouched more comfortably.

"Nosy fucker. Met at this fucking orgy thing my boss at the time had set up - fucking sex party weekends, Blue, are more trouble than they are worth. I figured to work it as a favor and she figured to... not work it. Looked like the most interesting piece of snatch there and she weren't bored by me either. Had ourselves a hell of a first date."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

He said nosy, but he answered. McCoy didn't seem to mind talking about Jocelyn. Seemed to make him nostalgic, which only heightened Kirk's curiosity.

"Sounds it," he said. "Guess you both got more than you bargained for. And worth the trouble."

He took another swallow, studying McCoy as if there was an answer there.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Sure as shit didn't bargain for any of that - but we had fun."

McCoy didn't talk about his past - but the comms from Jos and the fresh plotting....

"Could have fun again; I wouldn't be opposed. I just ain't very good at her political endeavors. For a wide variety of reasons."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Something clicked for Kirk then, again without his fully knowing it. A way that he fit here, between or beside them, filling in the gaps that had separated them by light years. He was right about where McCoy was most comfortable, but he wanted Jocelyn. Wanted something more. What if Kirk could bring her back to him?

What would that be worth? What did Kirk want?

"We all have our strengths," he pointed out needlessly, though there was an edge there, too, that he knew they sometimes needed combining. "And your girl? She must be some sort of prodigy."

Or a complete fucking mess. Or both.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

He sat up at that, knocked back the rest of his drink and reached for his comm. "Chapel, get your ass over here."

McCoy stood, paced to his closet and pulled out a shirt at random, a non-uniform shirt that looked cozy and just a little threadbare.

"I got me an errand to run. Chapel'll sit with you - figure you ought not be alone just yet."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

With McCoy, it was impossible to tell whether he'd fucked up, or the man was just crazy and done. He set his glass down on the table. His eyes followed McCoy around the room.

"I don't need a babysitter," he said. "What do you think I'm gonna do?"

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

"Not concerned about what you're going to do - just hosting the way my mama taught me."

Or something like that. Kirk should still be under medical observation - organ failure, collapse, anything could still happen.

"Won't be long. You'll like Chapel. Just don't touch her - and that's a bit of friendly warning."

[behnd-blueyes.livejournal.com]

Kirk wasn't fooled, unless McCoy's house had been even stranger than he suspected. He watched McCoy through narrowed eyes. He resisted the urge to ask where McCoy was going, not knowing why he wanted to know. Why he didn't want McCoy to leave.

"I'm keeping my hands to myself lately," he said. Warning against Chapel's reaction? or his own? No, McCoy didn't seem like the jealous type.