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@captainkirkmccoy / captainkirkmccoy.tumblr.com

Bree ♠ xxvii ♣ New York ♥ McKirk Outreach Director ♦ Star Trek ♠ Marvel ♣ Harry Potter ♥ The Blacklist ♣ Ask me for book recs ♥ Always accepting fic prompts ♦
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“I’m not letting go. Do you here me?” Every word Bones says is punctuated by the gravel sliding on either side of him as he digs in anyway he can at the edge of a cliff face. Whole damn planet is shifting, the earth opening up below their feet. Most of the planet’s people have been evacuated (because fuck the Prime Directive) and it’s just a few Away Team Members (and Bones) who are too stubborn to leave their Captain behind.

Jim’s hand is sweaty and his palm itches so bad it’s burning. Pain is vibrating down Jim’s whole shoulder and he’s pretty sure it’s one more pull from being dislocated.

The Earth shifts again and Bones scrambles, catching Jim’s wrist. He grunts as he tries to pull him up, Ensigns Laverty and Pao holding onto Bones legs as they too slide against the rocks that tumble past Jim’s face falling so quickly into the abyss below.

“Bones,” Jim pants. “Please. We’re all going to fall.”

He hasn’t taken a look below him yet, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t see the bottom of the crevasse, just a long drop ready to swallow him whole. Just like with the car. He was ready then. He’s not now.

He closes his eyes and prepares for it. Bones won’t let go but if he shifts, just a little, the planet’s gravity will do the work. He opens his eyes and looks up into the wide, terrified eyes of the love of his life.

“Don’t you dare.” Bones scurries forward and tries to get a grip with his other hand. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Bones.” And he swings his legs just a bit, just enough that his body weight becomes too much for Bones and the two Ensigns to handle–and then: he starts to fall.

Bones howls, fucking loud and anguished and that isn’t the last thing he wants to hear but as the air rushes past him and the roaring of the planet churning below becomes louder, he wishes for something more familiar, even if it’s Bones in pain and then-

He hits something hard, his head smacking against the surface and someone is pulling him up, squeezing him and he can’t breathe.

“You fucking asshole, don’t you ever do that again, I swear to god, you moron.” Bones has Jim’s face in between his two large and shaking hands, coated in the grey dust from the planet. He presses a kiss to the top of Jim’s head and pulls away enough to see the color come back to Chekov’s face, mouth agape and hands still battering furiously on the computer’s screens.

“Nice catch, Mr. Chekov.”

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Sometimes, Jim gets philosophical. 

It’s usually after really great sex or he’s just towing the line of tipsy, not yet happy drunk and not sober enough to be angry about it. 

Bones is used to it. 

This time, they’re in bed, tracing shapes on each other’s skin and being lazy. They deserve it after the week, month, year they’ve had. Doctor’s orders. Bed rest and cuddling. 

Bones is pleased with himself. He’s smiling softly into Jim’s hair, basking in the goosebumps that rise as Jim trails soft fingertips over his arms when Jim says-

“I hope I die for good before you. I really do. But if I do, I’m fucked.”

Bones’ eyes narrow. He refuses to raise his eyebrows at Jim’s inane comments because the kid told him the other day he looked like Spock when he did that and…well, he’ll be happier than a pig in shit if he’s never compared to the hobgoblin again. Especially in bed. 

“Don’t really believe in an afterlife. I mean, not really. But with all the shit we see, I guess it’s possible.” Jim’s rambling. His hands have not stopped their ministrations but have quickened in pace. 

He wants to say something in return but experience has taught him to let Jim finish, take whatever stray thoughts come out as babbling to find their way into the empty spaces between them and then comment, argue, reassure. 

“So I think I’d end up in Purgatory. They’d have a hard time trying to figure out where to put me. Definitely not heaven. Hell might want me but-” Jim makes a sound. A chuckle? It’s too low to tell. “I think they’d spit me back out.”

“So yeah, I’d have to wait for you. And I hope I wait a long time.” Jim pokes Bones arm as he says this, punctuating each word with a poke.

“And why’s that?” Bones drawls, throat unsure of which emotion it wants to color the tone with. He hopes for fond exasperation. 

“Because without you, heaven’s never gonna let me in.”

Silence except for the buzz that always accompanies Enterprise living. 

And then, god help him, Bones laughs. Laughs so hard he throws his head against the pillow and nearly knocks the back of his head against Jim’s chin. “You dumbass, you got that from a song, didn’t you?”

Jim’s sheepish when Bones finally turns to look at him. “It might have inspired that line of thinking.”

Bones rolls his eyes, shifts position again and pulls Jim closer. His heart always aches, his body seizing when he thinks of Jim dead. He burns those thoughts like he burned the body bag, gloves, hypos, and everything he didn’t turn over to Starfleet Medical. It’s probably not a good sign—lingering PTSD? Trauma, definitely—that he reacts this way. But this, joking about it, making light of the inevitable, is okay. He can breathe. 

He sighs against the back Jim’s neck, kissing just below the tiny hairs that still are growing there. 

“You’re a dork.”

“I’m your dork.”

“God help me but yes you are.”

And just like that, they’re okay. 

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“You know, Bones, you could just let me stuff a bunch of things in boxes and we can spend our time doing other things in the bedroom.” Jim said from the closet.

Bones ducked as a shoe came flying at his head and landed in a pile of the unpaired.

“And have to share my clothes with you because you under packed? Not a chance.”

“But you like it when I share your clothes.” Jim said, meeting Bones eyes in the mirror as he held up a collection of belts.

“I like it when we don’t have to send the clothes to laundry every two days because you change more than a pubescent boy.” Bones grabbed a shirt thrown haphazardly onto the mile of Jim’s clothes. He moved it to the keep pile.

“You know that one has the stain in it, right?” Jim asked, as he tried on a cowboy hat Joanna had sent him for his birthday.

“That was the shirt you were wearing when we met.”

Jim wrinkled his nose at Bones. “You remember that?”

“‘Course. Make sure the leather jacket comes with us too.”

Jim snorted. “As you wish.”

“We’ll find an occasion for you to wear it. Trust me.” Bones smirked. “And the cowboy hat is coming too.”

Jim laughed and tossed it onto the keep pile. “Why don’t you get in here and just pick my civvies? Since you have such opinions.”

Bones did. Jim left good in everything, the asshole. But there were a few outfits that Bones couldn’t live in space without seeing Jim in. The outfit that he had worn on their first date, when they’d proposed to each other, the day he came home from the hospital after Khan, the soft and worn pair of jeans that rode just at his hips. The grey sweater that complimented his blue eyes. The white dress shirt he wore to diplomatic dinners and let Bones unbutton with his teeth. Bones was making sure it all came with them.

“Stay where you are. You gotta model some stuff for me. Gotta make sure it still fits.”

Jim pressed a kiss to the side of Bones chin as he walked by. “Only if you do the same.”

And Jim thought this packing was going to be a chore. Bones grinned and reached into the closet, finding the plaid flannel Jim usually wore in Iowa under a grey tank that showed ups his shoulders and the freckles that dusted them.

He handed it to Jim. “You first, darlin’."

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Valentine's prompt: Sarek drunk on chocolate, comming Jim to ask when he's getting grandbabies. Spock is mortified.

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“Oh, incoming. It’s your in-law.” Bones tossed Jim his comm and settled back into the couch. 

“You love calling Sarek that, don’t you?” Jim stared down at the comm that was indeed displaying an incoming request from his father-in-law. 

“If anyone deserved in-laws, James T. Kirk, it’s you.” 

“Sarek loves me.” Jim made a face and debated on answering it and interrupting his time with Bones–who probably wouldn’t care now that he was two glasses in–or paying for it later after a strongly worded note landed in Spock’s inbox. 

Bones hid his snort in his glass and took another healthy drink. Scotty had once again procured the best of the best from his recent shoreleave. 

“Babe! Did we miss a birthday?” Jim called, hopping up from his very comfortable chair where he was planning on spending most of the evening beating Bones in Retro Trivia while drunk off his ass until Spock pulled him into bed and saw Bones safely down the hallway to his own quarters. It was a good plan. 

“No?” Came his bondmate’s response. Jim could almost hear the raised eyebrow. 

“Your dad is calling me. Your dad only calls me to yell at me.”

“You said he loved you!” Bones shot back.

“Tolerating is basically love in Vulcan, Bones. Shut up.”

Spock appeared at his side, staring down at Jim with the beginnings of disapproval etched into every crease of his gorgeous forehead. Jim blew out his breath and answered.

“Sarek! Everything alright?”

“No, Jim. It is most definitely not alright.”

Spock leaned over so to speak directly into the comm’s tiny speaker–an unecessary gesture but one Jim understood for the urgency of it. “Father? What is wrong?”

“Everything, my son.” There was an awful silence and Jim was ready to hit red alert and head to New Vulcan right away. “You and your mate have not given me a grandbaby.”

“I’m sorry, Sarek. Did you say, grandbaby?”

GRANDBABY? Bones mouthed. 

“Yes, Jim. I want grandchildren. You and my son should, as you Terrans say, get to it.”

Bones snorted again, a wild sound and then promptly fell over in a fit of barely contained guffaws. 

“I did not know he was that trashed.” Jim said when Spock glared at him and then he took the comm, stepping back from Jim and the chair and Bones and his choking laugh snorts. 

“Father, are you inebriated?” Spock 

“I am, my son.”

“Oh, shit.” Jim sat up and was happy to report that the room did not spin but his husband did reach out a hand to steady him anyway and that was definitely true love, right there. 

“There was a memorial for one of the elders and he requested that we celebrate with a chocolate fondue service.” 

Jim sifted through what Sarek just said and decided the most important part was, he reached over and hit the mute button so fast. “Spock. Love of my life. There’s a chocolate fondue service on New Vulcan and you didn’t tell me?”

“It is an emotional ceremony that many do not choose to partake in.”

“If I die, I want that. Okay? Chocolate fondue for all.”

Spock glared harder. Yes, it was a thing, to glare harder. 

“Jim, I think you should name her Amanda. I imagine that she’ll have my wife’s eyes. Beautiful eyes. Spock’s eyes. I would love to see those again in my granddaughter.”

“Whoa, whoa, if we were to have grandchildren, we would adopt. Plenty of kids out there that need homes.”

“Noble, but unnecessary for your first child. There are Vulcan…traditions that must be upheld. Plot a course for New Vulcan at once and we will discuss.”

“Father!” Spock’s freckles were turning green. 

Bones, who had uprighted himself and now was kneeling by the couch, groaned and muttered about enough talk about Vulcan tradition. 

“Sarek, we can’t just ditch our mission for Vulcan talk making babies.”

Spock reached out for Jim’s hand and he felt and heard his husband beg for Jim to just quit talking. 

This cannot wait. There is such thing as a biological clock, Jim.”

“Oh god, I’ve heard enough.” Bones too, looked like he was about to turn green and managed to get to his feet and only sway a bit in the process. 

“Sarek, we’re both men–you know that, right? Biological children, while great, might not fully happen. We don’t even know if, well, if we’re compatible with a donor or surrogate–”

“It’s been handled, Jim. Just get here. I want grandbabies. Now.” And then the comm. went dead. 

Jim tossed the comm back to Spock, who looked like he might fall into the chair Jim had been forced to vacate. “Wanna tell me what that’s about?”

“Not while I’m here, you don’t!” Bones took the bottle of Scotty’s brew and saluted, somehow managing to make it to the door and out before Jim could beg him to stay and be a buffer. 

Spock pressed his fingertips into his forehead. “I need a drink.”

“We have some actual hot chocolate.”

“I would not object.”

Jim grinned and plopped a messy kiss on Spock’s forehead. “He’ll apologize in the morning.”

“No, he’ll just ask us in a way that is more to his character, most likely with an ultimatum or two.”

Jim considered this. “Could be fun?”

“T’hy’la, only you could find a positive to this.’

“You’ll show me what he meant after the hot chocolate, though, right?”

Spock threw the comm at him. 

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It wasn’t uncommon during a diplomatic mission for Jim to ask Spock and Bones to accompany him. It wasn’t even uncommon for the people of the planet they were visiting to have a list of demands before they allowed Starfleet officers entry. But this…this was new.

Before Jim, Bones and Spock could enter into negotiations on Timbo II, they were asked by the high council members to submit to a test. And due to Murphy’s Law and Kirk luck and the fact that the whole damn ‘Verse seemed to be out to get Bones, it wasn’t just any test. The test–ingrained into the right of passages for trusted members of the Timbo II society–was to experience their worst fears through a simulation.

No one but Bones notices the way Jim tenses immediately. The kid’s worst fears are worse than most people, with all he’s been through. So Bones volunteers. Says that he’ll bargain with them. If they let him go through first and he wins or passes or whatever the best case scenario is, they have to spare their Captain. He’s trusted enough on the Ship, that trust should be good enough for the Timbo II people. Right?

But Bones doesn’t realize how bad it can be.

At first, there’s nothing. He sits on the stool as little drones fly above him and map out his fear matrix (or so Jim calls it). Quickly, the rocky welcome center of Timbo II fades away into a vestibule like area, grey and amorphous. He can hear Jim and Spock and the hushed voices of the Timbo II as they pray for his strength to face his fears.

He rolls his eyes and squares his shoulder. He’s done enough research on simulations to know that there’s always a chance the results are skewed because they’re aware it’s only a simulation. Unless outside circumstances–a drug,  for instance–helps the subject along, the reality of the simulation isn’t enough to convince you that fears or the high stakes of a field surgery are real.

He was wrong here too. As soon as the walls pulse a pink and then a deeper red, Timbo and Jim and Spock fade away. For one startling moment, he’s not sure where he is and then–

“Bones.”

Jim is being dragged by the collar of his Captain’s tunic by one of the Timbo council members they just met.

“Bones, Spock’s dead. We failed, you gotta get out of–” Before he can finish, the council member drops him to the floor grounds a knee into his back. With his palms on either side of Jim’s face–his eyes wild and chest heaving as he struggles against the other man, the council member wrenches Jim’s neck with a grunt.

“No.” Bones can’t register what happened. They were on the planet, there was a test, Jim–

The council member grins at him and licks a bead of blood on the corner of one lip.

Bones surges upward and runs at the man as he reaches down and rips the Starfleet insignia off Jim’s tunic.

And then–

“Choose, McCoy.”

“What?”

Where the fuck is he? He whirls around and recognizes a piece of a Shuttle’s cockpit, lopsided and sinking into sand, dust choking the air.

He hears crying and then a startled grunt as it’s cut off.

“Shut-up, brat.” The same voice from before says.

“Hey, it’s okay Jo Jo.” Jim, from somewhere behind him breathes and then. “Let them go, man. You got what you want. Let them go.”

“And let them bring the Federation down on us, hell no. I want to ensure that you don’t follow us. Now, McCoy. You wanna me to kill 'em both or kill one. You choose.”

Bones turns slowly to see his daughter held against the chest of a dusty looking man dressed in tatters of Starfleet uniforms and his face is mottled with bruises and scars. . Her eyes are wide and her face is red and blotchy, she’s shaking against him but she’s too quiet, held too tightly by the forearm against her chest.

“Starfleet knows we crashed, okay? It won’t be long until they send someone. Take me and let’s go.”

The man’s eyes dart from Bones to Jim and Bones is about to plead that he let Jo go, just take him instead, leave his daughter alone when a phaser shot freezes cracks through the small space.

Jim drops to his knees, blood blooming in a an arc in the sand, and Joanna screams. The tattered man blinks as a short woman with the same dishelved appearance strides in. “Quit talking, Leighton and get moving.”

“Jesus, Lenore. We coulda had a bounty.”

“Fine. Take the girl and let’s go. Finish the doc.”

Bones rushes at Lenore first, who shoots the phaser wildly in surprise. He hears the startled grunt of the man behind and whips around to see Jo bite down on his arm as he drags her away into the desert behind.

“Daddy!” She screams but Lenore has him pinned with a phaser to the chest.

“Sorry, doc.” She shrugs and then shoots his knee. “Gotta leave you as the messenger. Tell the Federation Kodos is back.”

Opposite on the floor, bleeding out and white as the sand around them, Jim hauls himself up and swings a phaser at Lenore’s back as she runs to the shuttle parked away from their wreck. He fires twice, once missing her and the other hitting her right in the back. She hits the sand at the same time Jim hits the metal of the shuttle’s floor.

Bones drags himself across to the opening, screaming and hollering for Jo while he leaves a trail of blood, panting as he goes.

He sees the shuttle lift off, sees it wobble in the air before gaining speed and disappearing above the clouds.

He’s clutching his leg when the room pulses again and another nightmare unfolds and then another: he loses Jim on the operating table, watches as Khan’s blood slowly wears away at Jim until he’s hollow and bloodthirsty. He experiences the the slow free fall of the Enterprise to Earth, no one around to slow it’s progress, he floats in space hundreds of miles above earth with no tether and oxygen that’s running low.

Feverish and exhausted, Bones finally collapses onto his knees on the hard surface of the vestibule, head in his hands, eyes screwed shut. But that doesn’t help.

The simulations keep coming: Joanna, Jim, the crew all dead, missing, injured, Bones too slow to help, to save them.

It all ends when Jim grabs him and pulls him close, screaming at the Timbo people to stop.

Spock and the Security team level their phasers at Timbo’s Lead Council Member who tells them that they must end the simulation or end negotiations.

Jim gives the King a look he reserves for the worst of the press and the few John Harrison/Marcus sympathizers. “Fuck you.”

The universal translator doesn’t do a great job at that but as they beam away, his meaning is understood.

Jim spends the night kissing Bones in every slow and easy way he can, whispering that he loves him in every language he knows Bones understands and then patches him into Jo and leaves the other man alone with his daughter.

He doesn’t pause to think that he knows the man well enough to understand all his fears because he knows Bones knows every one of Jim’s fears too, even if he’s tried to hide them.

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“I’m not letting go. Do you here me?” Every word Bones says is punctuated by the gravel sliding on either side of him as he digs in anyway he can at the edge of a cliff face. Whole damn planet is shifting, the earth opening up below their feet. Most of the planet’s people have been evacuated (because fuck the Prime Directive) and it’s just a few Away Team Members (and Bones) who are too stubborn to leave their Captain behind.

Jim’s hand is sweaty and his palm itches so bad it’s burning. Pain is vibrating down Jim’s whole shoulder and he’s pretty sure it’s one more pull from being dislocated.

The Earth shifts again and Bones scrambles, catching Jim’s wrist. He grunts as he tries to pull him up, Ensigns Laverty and Pao holding onto Bones legs as they too slide against the rocks that tumble past Jim’s face falling so quickly into the abyss below.

“Bones,” Jim pants. “Please. We’re all going to fall.”

He hasn’t taken a look below him yet, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t see the bottom of the crevasse, just a long drop ready to swallow him whole. Just like with the car. He was ready then. He’s not now.

He closes his eyes and prepares for it. Bones won’t let go but if he shifts, just a little, the planet’s gravity will do the work. He opens his eyes and looks up into the wide, terrified eyes of the love of his life.

“Don’t you dare.” Bones scurries forward and tries to get a grip with his other hand. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Bones.” And he swings his legs just a bit, just enough that his body weight becomes too much for Bones and the two Ensigns to handle–and then: he starts to fall.

Bones howls, fucking loud and anguished and that isn’t the last thing he wants to hear but as the air rushes past him and the roaring of the planet churning below becomes louder, he wishes for something more familiar, even if it’s Bones in pain and then-

He hits something hard, his head smacking against the surface and someone is pulling him up, squeezing him and he can’t breathe.

“You fucking asshole, don’t you ever do that again, I swear to god, you moron.” Bones has Jim’s face in between his two large and shaking hands, coated in the grey dust from the planet. He presses a kiss to the top of Jim’s head and pulls away enough to see the color come back to Chekov’s face, mouth agape and hands still battering furiously on the computer’s screens.

“Nice catch, Mr. Chekov.”

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For Jim Kirk, being a demon means that his mom travels hundreds of miles away from him because she’d rather understand the parts of spaceships than her own son. 

Being a demon means that he meets most of his friends in juvie, at night school, at the library when he hides from his parole officer and uncle and works and works until he forgets what day it is and how long it’s been since he’s slept. 

Being a demon means that when a program for gifted students called Tarsus Project opens, Jim’s mom doesn’t hesitate to send him, hoping that they can figure out her son better than she can even try. 

Being a demon means that they experiment on you at the so-called gifted program and that Jim learns to hate humans, his own differences, and anyone who tries to get too close. 

Being a demon means learning what he is at age 25 when Chris Pike, an old colleague of his dad explains that his differences are what make him strong, that his brilliance is a gift and that there are others like him, hiding in plain sight but aware of each other and able to support one another. 

Being a demon means he gets a job at the Starfleet Corporation where his parents met and where his father died. His dad wasn’t a demon but he was working on ways to help creatures--a project that his mother never knew about and still was kept in the dark. 

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Curled up in the backseat of Happy’s car with the radio down to just this side of off because the kid likes background noise. 

Headlights cut across the windows as they turn off the highway and onto a ramp, easing onto a local road, smoothly so Happy doesn’t wake Peter. 

He heads to the back of the parking lot, as far from the other cars--thank christ it’s empty--under the shade of a large tree growing from the woods that separates the property from the others on the main road. 

Happy turns off the car but not the radio, the overhead lights flick on and Happy dims them, twists around to see the sweatpants-clad Spiderling dead to the world, hood over his head, face free of any sleep anxiety. “Kid.”

Kid.”

“Not yet, Ned. There are frogs to free.” The kid mumbles. 

“Okay,” Happy unclips his seat belt and leans back further. 

“Parker. Wake up.”

The kid’s brow furrows, he shifts but doesn’t wake. 

He hates to do it but short of shaking the kid awake and Happy doesn’t get paid enough to endure another round of what happened last time, he doesn’t have a choice. He grabs his StarkPhone and hits the music app. Peter’s Wake Up Playlist is the most recently played. He hates his boss a little. 

A fuzzy sound and then a familiar voice starts singing along to the acoustic. 

Peter blinks, stretches, yawns.

“Hey, sleepyhead, welcome to the waking world.”

“Was that Clint singing?” Peter around another yawn. 

“Unfortunately.” Happy gladly swipes away off the app. 

“Why?”

“Something about the best songs to wake up to and the best way to annoy the crap out of me.”

“Mr. Stark made me a playlist?”

Happy got out of the car, making sure to check the surroundings. His phone buzzed, he huffed. The boss was worse than the kid sometimes, just as impatient. He sent a quick text back and when he was sure it was safe to do so, opened the door. 

The kid bolted out. “Where are we?”

“A pit stop. Let’s go, we’re already late.”

Peter looked around, gaze wandering from the well-traveled street ahead to the night sky packed with stars. “Is this the suburbs?”

“Rockland County. Let’s move.”

Happy guided the kid up a ramp, making a note to tell Tony about the latest limp that he forgot to share after training was over. 

“A diner?” Peter looked back at Happy, face puckered in the way it gets before he starts volleying questions. 

Happy has to reach over him to open the door and nodded at the older woman behind the register. 

“Happy!” The woman’s soft smile takes in Peter quickly before nodding to the back corner.  “Long time. They’re in the usual.”

“Sorry, Grace. Kid duty.” Happy nudged Peter around the glass pie display case. “You better haven’t gave them all the peach crumble.”

“Always a slice for you, Happy.”

“What’s going on?” Peter starts to say as they walk down the vinyl covered booths. A Yankee game is on in the corner television closest to them, the place smells of freshly brewed coffee and maple syrup. Despite his best efforts, Happy’s stomach growls. Peter grins in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything as a rumble of cheers hits them. 

“Hey!”

“There he is!”

“About time, can we order?”

“Spiderboy!”

“Kid!”

Peter stops short. “What?”

“Well,” Tony says, sliding out of the round booth’s largest seat. “I figured since you trained with us you deserved to take place in our post mission ritual. And Cap was craving Oreo pancakes.”

“Yeah?” Peter grinned. Happy rolled his eyes. He was getting too old for the way for the weird swell of pride at the kid’s genuine wonder and excitement at everything. 

“Now, everyone, scoot and let the kid in..” Tony says and the Avengers follow. It is the largest booth that Happy had ever seen and had been impressed when they stumbled upon it. “No man-spreading, Point Break.” Tony tells Thor as Peter sits down, bouncing a little on the smooth cushion. 

“So...what’s good here?” Pete asks, eyes alight as he takes in his team. 

Happy pulls up a chair next to Nat and she smirks at him. “What song woke him up?”

“Clint’s.”

“You liked it, didn’t you?”

“He’s got a voice, I’ll admit. ”

“And if you tell anyone I stole that off his phone, your dead.”

“Likewise, if you tell anyone I liked it.”

Nat’s laugh gets lost in the din as the Avengers debate the merits of breakfast over sandwiches at the diner or whether or not to just get every pie in the menu. Happy settles in, content with the noise and the way the kid fit into place, glad that he’s got this and them for right now. 

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Jamie did not run onto the transporter pad the minute her husband appeared but it was a near thing. 

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back (she wasn’t fucking emulating Spock despite what Uhura teased, it was the only position that didn’t look awkward with her world sized belly) and bit her lip. 

When he finally settled, his two feet on the small energized circle and not on some far colony that was definitely not the Enterprise, she crossed the distance in a shorter steps than she would have liked and stood there for a second. 

Bones was always disoriented after transporting but instead of the usual frown and furrowed eyebrows she was treated to his shy grin, lit up by his bright brown eyes and those adorable dimples (hers too, she staked claim in them as soon as they met) she had missed for fucking months. 

Hi there,” He said, one hand gently coming out to touch her now swollen belly, while the other reached out and brushed the hair back from her face. Chapel, Uhura, and anyone who had ever seen a pregnant woman said that she wasn’t that big yet but since her only frame of reference was on video chats with Sam’s wife she tended to be skeptical. 

“Hey, Bones.” she said and linked her arms around his neck, leaning forward when he dropped his hand from her face to nuzzle into his cheek. She inhaled too and it was amazing. Her heightened sense of smell was often a point of contention any other day but this, her nose filled with such a smell of Bones,  of home, for christsakes was really beautiful. 

They stood like that for a few seconds, probably longer than the Captain and CMO should have but it was a Beta shift lieutenant who wouldn’t say a word. 

“You okay, darlin’?” Bones asked, tilting her face up from his shoulder. He wiped the moisture that had started to form right beneath her eyes, not daring to fall further, thank God. 

“No,” she groaned. “Fucking hormones, Bones. M'Benga won’t give me anything for them.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that caused a happy shiver at the base of her spine. “You can’t do anything for them, sweetheart.”

“I can push Joanna out as soon as possible, that’s what I can do.”

He grinned wider and kissed her on the forehead. 

“I missed you,” she whispered. 

“Missed you too,” he said and they stepped off the transporter.

As they walked out of the earshot of the lieutenant, she hooked her finger through his jeans belt and tugged. “We have all shift off, you know what that means?”

“What would that be?”

“You get to spend the next few hours making that-” She pointed to the transporter room and waved her hand, they both knew what she meant, hopefully. “Up to me.”

“I can think of a few ideas.” He said and hooked his hand around her waist and pulled her close, she laughed, she couldn’t help it. 

“Lead the way, Bones.”

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Jim’s fingers tapped out morse code on his jumping leg. 

B-O-N-E-S

When he was through, he started again. 

A cool hand covered his and pressed it gently onto his knee, stilling both. 

“It’s illogical to be nervous.” His business partner, Spock, told him. 

Jim snorted. “I don’t know what I’m more worried about--that he’ll punch me in my face or laugh in my face.”

Spock considered his options. “Both are possible.”

Jim threw his head back, banging into the headrest. They were three hours into their four hour trip to Atlanta, and there was a ring in his pocket that he picked out five-years-ago, hoping, praying that one day he’d be able to give it to his best friend. Spock had called him illogical then too. 

“You didn’t see his face, Spock.” Jim pushed his palms into his closed eyelids, color exploding behind them. A headache was starting to form there and he was sure he was going to throw up. 

“If you believe that Leonard’s feelings for you are true, then there is nothing to fear, Jim.”

Jim had fallen in love with his best friend way before he knew what falling in love meant. Having lost his father before he was even born, he hardly had a functional couple role-model, and spent most of his adolescence thinking of Bones as his hero, protector, partner-in-crime. It wasn’t until his sophomore year of high school, when Bones had taken Jocelyn Darnell to prom, that Jim realized that he was 1) Bi and 2) so deeply in love with Bones that it hurt to see them line up on the lawn across the street for pictures. It hurt to think of Bones anywhere but with him. 

He had thought distance and experimentation was the best way to fall out of love with Bones. He spent summers at his grandparents’ estate in Iowa, distancing himself from the person he physically hurt at leaving behind. 

“What if I was wrong? What if he was just pissed over something else?

***

Leonard McCoy made his way through the packed lunch crowd of Persimmons, dodging shopping bags and the pushed backed chairs of the Atlanta Elite. The exclusive establishment was a bit too high brow for his taste, he hated any restaurant that had a dress code, but his best friend of over thirty-years, Nyota Uhura, refused to discuss business anywhere else. 

And there she was, in her usual corner circle table by the fireplace, where she could be found at any day of the week, holding court over her media contacts and the various waitstaff that fawned over her. 

He kissed her cheek and took his place in the high backed seat across from her, noting the wine glass that was stained red that told him she’d been working here for the day already. 

“So?” He asked, rubbing his hands together as he waved away a waiter that tried to offer him a wine menu. “Is it possible?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s possible. It’s done, in fact.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“But...” She tapped a quick message out on her phone and pushed it aside before letting her chin fall into her palm, propping her elbow up on the table in a way that he was sure she would never do if he were one of her contacts. 

“But what?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” 

“Two weeks ago you were about to move across the world to get away from him. Now you’re proposing?”

Leo avoided her eyes to nod at the waiter, who was standing attentively waiting his order on the other side of the fireplace. “A whisky neat. Please?”

Nyota narrowed her eyes at him but he ignored her. 

“It took me a while but I get it now.”

“You’re going to need to give me a bit more than that.”

“I love him.” This was said quietly, drowned out by the gentle crackle of the fire. Nyota heard it though. She didn’t miss a thing. 

“I just--” She shook her head. “I love you both.” At his raised eyebrow, she screwed up her mouth. “If you admit that to Kirk, I will quit and you’ll have to found a new PR exec.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“So why now? It’s been...thirty something years?”

“I’m an idiot that took too long to figure things out. And when I realized that it would be months until I saw him again--with the way we left things..things just clicked.”

She rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Men.”

The waiter placed the highball glass in front of him and he took a sip, relishing in the warmth that spread at the smallest amount. 

“Thank you.” He told her after twenty minutes of going over details--Nyota wasn’t called the best publicist in town for nothing, her attention to detail and creativeness was unparalleled, which is why he knew he could trust her with something as important and terrifying as this. 

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Hallmark movie: two strangers are forced on a road trip together when the airports close due to weather and they both need to get home.

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“I swear on Bing Crosby’s balls if you don’t get me on a goddamn plane, I will transfer every single mile and make this shit stain of customer service go viral.”

Jim wasn’t sure what was more impressive–the use of Bing Crosby in an oath or the fact that the guy in front of him–stubbled, built, with just enough southern twang to sound polite while he was cursing you out–looked so good while doing it. 

He missed what the concierge said, which was a shame because Jim would have liked to tape that reaction and play it whenever he felt pretty fucked up. 

“Can I help you?” The next concierge asked, taking his hopeful boarding pass and ID. 

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re completely booked due to the delays.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to curse. 

***

Two hours and two shots later found Leo at the rental car desk. He was sober, thank fuck, but he was boarding on livid, ready to throw a temper tantrum that would have put Joanna’s three-year-old ones to shame. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I just gave my last available car–a Honda minivan to that gentlemen.” 

Leo swiveled his head with such speed that might have been comical if he wasn’t ready to pounce on this asshat who took his ride. He needed that car. Without a word to the clerk–and really he knew it wasn’t their fault for weather delays–he stalked toward the blonde man in the leather coat (who the fuck wore a leather coat in Iowa in the Winter?)

“Hey, kid.”

The guy, a few years younger and most definitely not a kid, blinked at Leo with the most beautiful blue eyes that Leo had ever seen. His words caught in his breath. 

The man sighed. “Where you going?”

“What?”

“You want to buy these kids. They’re not for sale. But I might be able to drive you halfway.”

“Hell no. I’ll drive myself. And everyone has a price.”

“I need to be somewhere, same as you. No price. Where are you going? I’m only offering once. I’ve got to get on the road.”

“Georgia. Just outside Atlanta. You?”

The kid’s grin was slow and delighted. “Georgia. Just outside Atlanta.”

***

“Turn that goddamn music off for Christ’s sake.”

Leo was sleeping off his hangover with his head reclined on the passenger headrest, his scarf over his eyes. He had dozed for a bit but woke up to an annoying off-key rendition of White Christmas along with the radio. 

Jim, his new traveling companion, gasped. “You don’t like Buble?”

Leo grumbled in response and reached down for the cup of donut holes, popping a powdered one in his mouth. 

“So, what are you risking life and limb for with a rackish yet impossibly handsome stranger?”

Leo chocked on some powder and Jim reached over and thumped him on the back. 

“What are you risking life and limb for?” Leo countered. 

“Touche.” Leo watched as Jim starred ahead, the light from the passing cars lighting up his eyes briefly. “I’m half Jewish and half…well, we celebrate Christmas. I mean, technically I’m more agnostic but…” Jim shrugged. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, my mom and dad met around Christmas and Hannukah and it was their things for years. And then he died. If I don’t get home this will be the first Christmas my mom will spend alone.”

Leo nodded, looking out at the passing snow drifts as they drive farther and farther down the interstate. 

“My ex-wife and I got divorced last year. This is the first Christmas that I won’t be living with my daughter. I couldn’t not be there.”

Jim flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, changing lanes to get around a semi. 

“Good reasons,” Jim said finally. 

Leo popped another donut in his mouth so Jim wouldn’t be able to tell how raspy his voice would get. 

***

Two flat tires, one near accident and a terrifying moment when Leo, now Bones, had to jab a epi-pen into his new friend’s thigh and they were crossing the boarder into Georgia. 

Jim whooped from the passenger side. He had refused the hospital but Bones didn’t trust the pale complexion and bruised skin below his eyes so Bones forced him into the passenger seat. 

Bones pulled into the nearest rest stop and took a shaky breath. 

If Bones got off this exit, he’d be to Jo in a half hour, a day and a half before his worse case scenario had planned for. 

If he continued down the thruway for another hour and then got off an exit then, he’d get Jim to his mom just before sun down on the first night of Hannukah. 

“Hey,” Jim said, suddenly, reaching a hand out to pry Bones’ white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “It’s okay. You take the car.”

“What?” Bones exclaimed, wrenching the emergency break on. 

“I can take the bus or–”

“If you say something as asinine as hitchhike, so help me, James T. Kirk.”

Jim ducked his head. “You sound like my mom.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now let’s go get something to eat, you look like death and if I don’t piss now we won’t be getting our deposit back on the rental.”

Jim snorted. 

***

A half hour later, Jim was dozing in the car when it eased to a halt, a street lamp burning bright behind Jim’s closed eyes. 

“Hey,” Bones, this stranger, accidental new best friend and potentially the love of his life, said softly, one hand gently nudging him awake. 

He blinked his eyes, passing a hand over the grit collected there, and found that he was staring at his mother’s new house. The one she had bought because Iowa was getting too cold, too lonely, too full of memories of a husband that had died years ago but had lingered for years like a vengeful ghost, kept alive by her guilt and refusal to move on. Jim had found the house and called the broker and had moved her down here himself, somewhere warm and bright and as far away from the gossip and shadows of Riverside as they could get. It didn’t matter if Jim couldn’t leave behind the Kirk homestead quite as easily, his mom deserved a change. 

“What?” He asked, blinking again just in case he was seeing some other house or the bus station that Bones had agreed to drop him off at an hour ago. 

The door opened and his mother stepped our, wrapping a coat around herself as she raised a hand in greeting but not to him–to Bones. 

How?” He asked, his voice a tired wave of confusion and wonder. 

“Made a phone call. Your mom is quite lovely. Not sure where a shit stirring menace like you comes from.”

Jim laughed and got out of the car. His mom took a step out onto the lawn, which was damp, and then ran to him, engulfing Jim in a bear hug that only people who claimed you as theirs were capable of. 

“Jim,” she breathed. “You made it.” 

“I did,” he said, still full of wonder. He squeezed her for a few moments, taking in her mom scent–from lemon from her favorite dishwashing soap, to lavender and vanilla from her shampoo, and cinnamon from her homemade crust and morning buns. 

“But, Jo?” Jim asked when he finally pulled away. 

Bones pursed his lips, his eyes a happy glint of mischief. “Apparently, my dear ex’s new in-laws live about ten minutes from here? And they’re spending the holidays with them?”

Jim threw his head back and laughed. Then he reached forward and grabbed for Bones’ hand just as he wanted to since they first got into the car, and every time in between. 

“Thanks, Bones.”

“Nah. I think it’s you I have to thank,” Bones said and squeezed his hand back as they all walked together toward the house and toward whatever their first holiday together would bring. 

***

Prompt me with your best Holiday Hallmark Movie Prompt!

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Have a cheesy yet romantic Hallmark Holiday Prompt for Jim and Bones? Prompt me here: http://captainkirkmccoy.tumblr.com/ask

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“I’m not letting go. Do you here me?” Every word Bones says is punctuated by the gravel sliding on either side of him as he digs in anyway he can at the edge of a cliff face. Whole damn planet is shifting, the earth opening up below their feet. Most of the planet’s people have been evacuated (because fuck the Prime Directive) and it’s just a few Away Team Members (and Bones) who are too stubborn to leave their Captain behind.

Jim’s hand is sweaty and his palm itches so bad it's burning. Pain is vibrating down Jim’s whole shoulder and he’s pretty sure it’s one more pull from being dislocated.

The Earth shifts again and Bones scrambles, catching Jim’s wrist. He grunts as he tries to pull him up, Ensigns Laverty and Pao holding onto Bones legs as they too slide against the rocks that tumble past Jim's face falling so quickly into the abyss below.

“Bones,” Jim pants. “Please. We’re all going to fall.”

He hasn’t taken a look below him yet, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t see the bottom of the crevasse, just a long drop ready to swallow him whole. Just like with the car. He was ready then. He's not now.

He closes his eyes and prepares for it. Bones won’t let go but if he shifts, just a little, the planet’s gravity will do the work. He opens his eyes and looks up into the wide, terrified eyes of the love of his life.

“Don’t you dare.” Bones scurries forward and tries to get a grip with his other hand. “Don’t you fucking dare. Not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Bones.” And he swings his legs just a bit, just enough that his body weight becomes too much for Bones and the two Ensigns to handle--and then: he starts to fall.

Bones howls, fucking loud and anguished and that isn’t the last thing he wants to hear but as the air rushes past him and the roaring of the planet churning below becomes louder, he wishes for something more familiar, even if it's Bones in pain and then-

He hits something hard, his head smacking against the surface and someone is pulling him up, squeezing him and he can’t breathe.

“You fucking asshole, don’t you ever do that again, I swear to god, you moron.” Bones has Jim’s face in between his two large and shaking hands, coated in the grey dust from the planet. He presses a kiss to the top of Jim’s head and pulls away enough to see the color come back to Chekov’s face, mouth agape and hands still battering furiously on the computer's screens.

“Nice catch, Mr. Chekov.”

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It wasn't uncommon during a diplomatic mission for Jim to ask Spock and Bones to accompany him. It wasn't even uncommon for the people of the planet they were visiting to have a list of demands before they allowed Starfleet officers entry. But this...this was new.

Before Jim, Bones and Spock could enter into negotiations on Timbo II, they were asked by the high council members to submit to a test. And due to Murphy's Law and Kirk luck and the fact that the whole damn 'Verse seemed to be out to get Bones, it wasn't just any test. The test--ingrained into the right of passages for trusted members of the Timbo II society--was to experience their worst fears through a simulation.

No one but Bones notices the way Jim tenses immediately. The kid’s worst fears are worse than most people, with all he’s been through. So Bones volunteers. Says that he’ll bargain with them. If they let him go through first and he wins or passes or whatever the best case scenario is, they have to spare their Captain. He's trusted enough on the Ship, that trust should be good enough for the Timbo II people. Right?

But Bones doesn’t realize how bad it can be.

At first, there's nothing. He sits on the stool as little drones fly above him and map out his fear matrix (or so Jim calls it). Quickly, the rocky welcome center of Timbo II fades away into a vestibule like area, grey and amorphous. He can hear Jim and Spock and the hushed voices of the Timbo II as they pray for his strength to face his fears.

He rolls his eyes and squares his shoulder. He's done enough research on simulations to know that there's always a chance the results are skewed because they're aware it's only a simulation. Unless outside circumstances--a drug,  for instance--helps the subject along, the reality of the simulation isn't enough to convince you that fears or the high stakes of a field surgery are real.

He was wrong here too. As soon as the walls pulse a pink and then a deeper red, Timbo and Jim and Spock fade away. For one startling moment, he's not sure where he is and then--

"Bones."

Jim is being dragged by the collar of his Captain's tunic by one of the Timbo council members they just met.

"Bones, Spock's dead. We failed, you gotta get out of--" Before he can finish, the council member drops him to the floor grounds a knee into his back. With his palms on either side of Jim's face--his eyes wild and chest heaving as he struggles against the other man, the council member wrenches Jim's neck with a grunt.

"No." Bones can't register what happened. They were on the planet, there was a test, Jim--

The council member grins at him and licks a bead of blood on the corner of one lip.

Bones surges upward and runs at the man as he reaches down and rips the Starfleet insignia off Jim's tunic.

And then--

"Choose, McCoy."

"What?"

Where the fuck is he? He whirls around and recognizes a piece of a Shuttle's cockpit, lopsided and sinking into sand, dust choking the air.

He hears crying and then a startled grunt as it's cut off.

"Shut-up, brat." The same voice from before says.

"Hey, it's okay Jo Jo." Jim, from somewhere behind him breathes and then. "Let them go, man. You got what you want. Let them go."

"And let them bring the Federation down on us, hell no. I want to ensure that you don't follow us. Now, McCoy. You wanna me to kill 'em both or kill one. You choose."

Bones turns slowly to see his daughter held against the chest of a dusty looking man dressed in tatters of Starfleet uniforms and his face is mottled with bruises and scars. . Her eyes are wide and her face is red and blotchy, she's shaking against him but she's too quiet, held too tightly by the forearm against her chest.

"Starfleet knows we crashed, okay? It won't be long until they send someone. Take me and let's go."

The man's eyes dart from Bones to Jim and Bones is about to plead that he let Jo go, just take him instead, leave his daughter alone when a phaser shot freezes cracks through the small space.

Jim drops to his knees, blood blooming in a an arc in the sand, and Joanna screams. The tattered man blinks as a short woman with the same dishelved appearance strides in. "Quit talking, Leighton and get moving."

"Jesus, Lenore. We coulda had a bounty."

"Fine. Take the girl and let's go. Finish the doc."

Bones rushes at Lenore first, who shoots the phaser wildly in surprise. He hears the startled grunt of the man behind and whips around to see Jo bite down on his arm as he drags her away into the desert behind.

"Daddy!" She screams but Lenore has him pinned with a phaser to the chest.

"Sorry, doc." She shrugs and then shoots his knee. "Gotta leave you as the messenger. Tell the Federation Kodos is back."

Opposite on the floor, bleeding out and white as the sand around them, Jim hauls himself up and swings a phaser at Lenore's back as she runs to the shuttle parked away from their wreck. He fires twice, once missing her and the other hitting her right in the back. She hits the sand at the same time Jim hits the metal of the shuttle's floor.

Bones drags himself across to the opening, screaming and hollering for Jo while he leaves a trail of blood, panting as he goes.

He sees the shuttle lift off, sees it wobble in the air before gaining speed and disappearing above the clouds.

He's clutching his leg when the room pulses again and another nightmare unfolds and then another: he loses Jim on the operating table, watches as Khan’s blood slowly wears away at Jim until he's hollow and bloodthirsty. He experiences the the slow free fall of the Enterprise to Earth, no one around to slow it's progress, he floats in space hundreds of miles above earth with no tether and oxygen that's running low.

Feverish and exhausted, Bones finally collapses onto his knees on the hard surface of the vestibule, head in his hands, eyes screwed shut. But that doesn’t help.

The simulations keep coming: Joanna, Jim, the crew all dead, missing, injured, Bones too slow to help, to save them.

It all ends when Jim grabs him and pulls him close, screaming at the Timbo people to stop.

Spock and the Security team level their phasers at Timbo’s Lead Council Member who tells them that they must end the simulation or end negotiations.

Jim gives the King a look he reserves for the worst of the press and the few John Harrison/Marcus sympathizers. “Fuck you.”

The universal translator doesn’t do a great job at that but as they beam away, his meaning is understood.

Jim spends the night kissing Bones in every slow and easy way he can, whispering that he loves him in every language he knows Bones understands and then patches him into Jo and leaves the other man alone with his daughter.

He doesn’t pause to think that he knows the man well enough to understand all his fears because he knows Bones knows every one of Jim’s fears too, even if he’s tried to hide them.

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