It had all happened so quickly. 

For Leonard’s birthday, (his 37th, not that he was telling anybody that) his mother (bless he soul) had bought him a wine tasting session at one of the posh vineyards out of town. That had been almost a year ago, and it expired next week. 

It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to make good of the present, but he was oh-so-sick of his mother asking if he had been yet. Not to mention the thought of wasting good money made his stomach spin. So he’d asked Jim. 

They’d been seeing each other, on and off, for a couple of years. Between Jim’s deployments and his own work, it had been hard to ‘make the time’. Still, Jim was home for now, and now was a good a time as any. 

The problem he didn’t realise until they got their was thus: wine people are boring, swilling and spitting wine is gross, and neither he nor Jim had ‘got it on’ for way too long. 

For the first half an hour they nodded their way through, pretending they were interested. At around the 45 minute mark, Jim turned with wild eyes and muttered, “I can’t get through this, Len, what the hell have you brought me too?!” Leonard rolled his eyes and shoved a drink in Jim’s face, double checking that the way too happy lady doing the tour wasn’t looking. 

“Just keep fucking drinking, I want to get my money’s worth.” 

Jim sighed and threw that tiny sample down his throat. He then leaned forward, and with Dodger like skills, snagged the couple in fronts samples. “Trust me baby, I’ll make sure we do,” Jim gave an eyebrow wiggle that had heat pooling in his stomach.

By the time they got to the shop at the end, Leonard was flushed. Jim’s eyes shone as he tugged Leonard by the hand. “Look, Len!” he said loudly, attracting everyone’s attention. “More testers!” and he was right, tiny samples were laid out next to a name tag. Jim grabbed one on each of the many wines, taking multiple trips between the sample and Leonard. 

“Err, excuse me, sir?” a women said politely, “You’re only allowed one sample.”

Jim blinked at her in confusion, “but it doesn’t say that on the sign.”

“Well no…”

“It should probably say that on the sign,” he said, almost falling over his words.

His loud voice was attracting a lot of attention. “Yes, sir, but…”

“I’m just getting my money’s worth,” he shrugged, giving a smile that made Leonard wanted to grab him by the neck and get him home, like right now. 

He staggered off before she could reply. “Sup up Lenny!” 

Leonard did so, drinking the sample in one tip. He heard a screech of, “you’re supposed to-” but he blocked it out and focused on Jim’s wine-stained lips.

“I fucking love you,” he said, without thinking.

Jim’s dazed eyes met his. “Oh Lenny, thought you were never going to-”

Their lips clashed together, the heat from the alcohol giving way to the heat of something else.  “Let’s get outta here.”

a continuation of:      “I’m not sure why I did that, I’m sorry”

By request of:  @bolontiku

The doors whooshed shut and Jim blinked, once, twice, nope- still frozen. Eventually, Uhura coughed pointedly and he turned dumbly to face the others. Spock raised one eyebrow. Colour pooled in his cheeks. His face tingled at the gentle contacts of Bones’ (BONES’) hand on his head, his body seemed to ache for the contact.

His best friend, his mother hen.

With that adorable slack-mouth shock and rosy cheeks as he stuttered his way to the lift. 

Something rose in his chest, a fondness… a… oh shit. 

“Back to work, Gentlemen,” he said in a high-pitched almost-shriek. 

Chekov and Sulu shared a look before turning back to their consoles, sniggering. Jim fought the urge to say something, best to let this whole thing just, well, blow over. 

What should he do? Should he wait and talk to Bones later? Or find an excuse to…

“What is your decision, Captain?” Spock asked. Jim jumped ten foot in the air, was he speaking aloud? Was Spock reading his mind??! 

He glanced over at his long-suffering first captain. Jim was sure, if he was human, he would have sighed theatrically by now, as it was, that lone eyebrow crept higher. 

“About our journey into the Mancillion system, Captain.”

Shit, what had they been saying? Something about craters or something?

Well fuck knows. “I trust your judgement, Spock.” He heard Chekov swear in Russian but no one else moved. Ah, sod it, he thought. “Well, if that’s all, I, umm, I need to… I have to…” Jim stuttered as he backed off towards the turbolift.

Spock’s second eyebrow rose.

He jabbed the doors to close, blocking off his sniggering crew. 

“Oh god,” he murmured, slapping the emergency stop button. “Oh god, I’m in love with my best friend.” He was furious that he hadn’t realised it before and what if, what if Bones didn’t love him? What if that was just a friendly-brotherly hair stroke? That happened right? 

Right? 

Keeping James Tiberius Kirk alive was a full time job. But it wasn’t one of those fun jobs, or those jobs that are rather shitty but have good rewards. No this job was: hazardous (the people shooting at Jim, usually end up shooting at those around Jim); expensive (if you ever have to pay to get someone out of Rigelian jail, you’ll realise just how costly life can be); and worst of all, thankless because (for some strange reason) it is expected that Jim Kirk’s grump of a friend will bail him out of each and every problem.

It wasn’t like Leonard didn’t enjoy looking after Jim, for her did, he got a strange sick pleasure every time he jabbed that needle into his friend’s neck. It also wasn’t that he did it out of duty or respect for his captain. No, it was because Leonard McCoy was hopelessly in love with James Kirk.

And with that puppy-dog love, came the unreasonable belief that no one could keep Jim safe like he could. No one else knew how Jim cried after the death of each crew member. Or how he held his heart so far out on his sleeve that it took only the slightest insult to send Jim crashing. No one knew how bourbon and a joke could distract him from his worst terror-induced nightmares. And how many other people knew how Jim cuddled in his sleep? Seeking any warmth and comfort that he brushed away in his woken moments, but craved in his sleep?

And who else knew that Jim craved danger because it was the only way he felt alive?

It wasn’t that Leonard’s thoughts were always with the dashing but unattainable captain, for he had a ship to keep healthy, a daughter to talk with, friends to pretend to be happy with… and Jim to day-dream of.

thecrazyenthusiast said: Hey so you said you take prompts?? I love Mckirk, mega angst, and happy endings. I’ve been looking for anything where McCoy either accidentally hurts Jim or hurts him and then has some serious anger towards himself for it. Of course with a happy ending? If you have any interest in writing this, or know of a fic with something like this, I would love to hear about it. If you don’t have interest or don’t know of anything I still hope you have an amazing day ❤️🤗 Prompt from tumblr user @thecrazyenthusiast

Looking back, McCoy still had no idea how any of it had happened. One minute, he was laughing, the next - well - his life was falling apart. 

They were on some away mission, on a deserted island, for no scientific-damn-reason except “Bones, we’re EXPLORERS.” Two days he’d been camping on this godforsaken planet. There were no rivers, no forests, just a wasteland of dust and scrub. Yet, despite all reason, Jim had wanted to stay there, just the two of them, and see for themselves. The first day they had explored around the landing site, sending any reports back to Enterprise, which was circling above. But on the second day, Jim had pointed enthusiastically to the mountain two miles south from their landing zone with a wicked grin. Protesting had been useless. So McCoy, laden with supplies (a weeks worth of water, all their rations, medical kit and spare tent- well this was Jim we are talking about). Jim, on the other hand, had only brought himself and his wicked grin.

They were about 200 foot up when it had all happened. They were following the clearest path, which overlooked the sharp drop. On their left was a wall of rock, beneath their feet was an uneven path that was made for nature, not man. To their right, was the breathtaking drop. 

McCoy was picking his steps carefully, unlike Jim who was leaping like a gazelle down the path. 

“Come on Old Man,” Jim had cackled, darting back to kiss a grumpy McCoy on the lips. “Can’t you keep up?“ 

"Jim,” McCoy had warned, frowning at the ridiculous man in front of him and managing to keep the smile from his lips. 

Jim had only laughed, reaching to grab his arm and pull him along. Jim’s hand tugged on  his, pulling him forward. McCoy had growled, and yanked his arm back, roughly, unbalancing Jim. Jim’s smile dropped from his face as his arms had windmilled, far too close to the edge. “Shit, Bo-,” but Jim hadn’t managed to finish his sentence, for he was falling backwards, in surprised shock, over the edge.

“JIM!”

Heart-in-mouth, McCoy had peered over the edge, seeing Jim flailing, grabbing, scrabbling against the rocks. With a thud, over 50 feet down, Jim had collided with a rocky outcrop, and come to a sudden, silent, stop. “JIM” he again yelled, pulling out his communicator. There was no movement.

He’d spent four hours fixing the guy, mending bones, stitching back together, till he felt that Jim had more resembled a jigsaw puzzle that he himself had put back together. Then he’d sat for hours, on the floor of their rooms, a bottle they’d been saving, pressed against shaking lips. 

He still hadn’t woken up, he was in an induced coma, but with that head injury… well he was a Doctor. He knew the dangers, the risks, the likelihood… McCoy sighed, the hand not holding the bottle swept across his eyes. “Oh Jim,” he said, not knowing the words to say. Knowing he should be by Jim’s side, like he’s promised he always would be. But was that really Jim? Had Jim already gone on, his body just an echo of a life that once was? Or, even worse, how could he sit by his friend, his lover and hold his hand while knowing, without a doubt, that he put him there. That this was all his fault, if he hadn’t… If Jim hadn’t… 

He hadn’t even been the first one to reach Jim, stranded as he was on that ledge. No, Nurse Chapel had been the first to lay her hands on his broken body, she had been the one who brought him back from crashing. Not him. Perhaps he was cursed? He already had one failed relationship behind him, and now he’d killed his best friend. Literally pushed him to his death. How could he go on knowing that? Knowing that Jim’s fall was all on him? That if he died… that was on him. If he was paralysed, if he was brain damaged… that was all on him. 

McCoy couldn’t have stopped the tears, not if he’d tried. His own breaths were as shallow as Jim’s, as he struggled through each minute. The door chimed, but he ignored it. He just wanted them all to go away, to leave him. Couldn’t they leave him to his misery? Was that too much to ask? He took another gulp, there was only dregs left now anyway. Might as well finish it off. Jim had given it him last year, when the Enterprise had been rebuilt and they had walked into their new room, an adaption to their old single quarters. ‘To better times,’ Jim had laughed as they stood in the small lounge area, a wicked glint in his eyes. He’d responded in kind, and they’d saved the bottle. Waiting for those better times. Leonard had always hoped, that they would drink this bottle the day he proposed. But that day would never come. 

Whoosh

The door slid open, and McCoy drunkenly raised his head in confusion. Who could enter the room when it was locked? 

Spock.

The Vulcan slid into the room, looking around with a simple raised eyebrow. He was followed by Uhura, who winced in sympathy, walking over to him as though he was an injured animal about to pounce. “Len,” she said softly, trying to reach for the near-empty bottle that Leonard was determined not to lose. 

He shook his head, wishing they’d leave but not having the ability to voice it himself.

“I do not understand why you are in your quarters rather than being with the captain,” Spock said, Uhura rolled her eyes but said nothing, simply reaching again for the bottle, which this time he let her have. 

“Go way.”

“I understand drinking is common in humans when emotionally distressed, however, your friend, and captain-,”

“Spock,” Uhura warned, and Spock stopped. A look of utter confusion on his face. In normal circumstances, McCoy would have laughed. Instead, he stared at the floor.

“Len, sweetie,” Uhura said softly, “why aren’t you waiting for Jim to wake up upstairs.”

“Because he’s not going to wake up,” he said thickly, ignoring Uhura’s gasp of pain. “Empty shell.”

Spock stepped forward, “Dr McCoy, Nurse Chapel informed us a mere hour ago that Jim had a 98% chance of survival. It is very unlikely that he will be paralysed, facts, I’m sure, you are already aware of." 

Leonard shook his heard. "If he’s brain damaged, it won’t be him waking up.”

“Oh, Leonard,” Uhura said sympathetically. “Nurse Chapel said-”

“I know!” he shouted suddenly. 

“Then what is the problem?” she asked, reaching out to take his hand.

He swallowed hard, the burning feel of alcohol was fading and as it did his mind was clearing. “It’s my fault.”

“It was an accident,” Uhura said softly. “Jim wouldn’t want-”

“It was my fault! I pushed him!” No one spoke for a moment. “Dr McCoy, the events that occurred on the surface were, as Nyota put it, an accident.”

McCoy scrubbed his hand over his face yet again, rubbing at his swollen eyes. “Jim will want you there when he wakes,” Spock said with finality. McCoy nodded and allowed them both to lead him to the bed of his beloved. He dozed there for the rest of the day.

The lights were all dimmed, indicating it was night aboard the ship. He blinked sleepily as he looked for what had roused him. Jim’s hand had moved from the bed, and was on his. He gasped slightly and looked up, catching Jim’s bleary eye. 

“Jimmy,” he half sobbed as he stood to check the monitors.

“Bo-nes,” Jim chocked out. 

“Save your energy, kid,” he said as he grabbed a mild pain reliever. 

“Bones,” Jim said again, insistant. Leonard looked own at him, surprised at the determination in his eyes. “Not your fault.”

Leonard gulped, but prepped the hypo.

“Say it. Say-” he panted, “say it wasn’t your fault.

Leonard closed his eyes, a smile rising from his despair. "Alright, Jim. You win. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Go sleep." 

@allbutpunniless prompt: uhura discovers/suspects jim&bones are more than friends (based on real subtle stuff) and confronts jim after he and bones have had (or are in the middle of) a huge fight. i’m such a sucker for depth and he-is-my-entire-world-*tenderness* behind a cavalier/macho facade :))))) longtime not-really-secret-but-really-discreet established relationship Mckirk

Uhura had always had a nose for gossip, or so people said. Uhura had always said she had a nose for mystery, not gossip. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that she was the first to work it out.

The first time she had ever suspected anything between her two friends and colleagues, they hadn’t been friends and they’d barely been colleagues. It was during the shit storm that was the Narada when she was busy preventing her suicidal Vulcan from well, the obvious. So at the time she’d barely even noticed, at least not till much much later. Spock had been on the transporter pad, and she’d been there for him, to send him off and wish him luck. Then there was Jim, standing alone and lost while Spock had had her. Or so she’d thought. They’d gone, taking her heart with them. She’d turned to leave, to be useful and jolted in surprise. There, standing in the shadow of the door, was McCoy, his face broken in grief and sorrow. She’d not known him well enough to comfort him, nor had she known why he needed it. With decisive steps she’d left the room and with everything that followed, that small moment had escaped her mind.

The second time was months into their mission. She was now of course friends with Dr McCoy, whom she’d begun to feel comfortable enough to call Len while off duty. But despite Jim’s best efforts, she had not struck up the same rapport with Jim as rest of the command team. Sulu and Jim sparred weekly, with more than a few spectators. Jim and Scotty could often be found doing something suspicious down in engineering. Chekov and the Captain had bonded over Russian vodka, and well complex problems that only Spock seemed to understand. McCoy had been putting up with Kirk for years, and surprisingly after an awful start Spock and Jim had bonded over chess. Uhura however found that first expressions where hard to shift, not to mention she had always believed that it was wrong to see your superiors as your friend. There had been an awful away mission (before it had become a common occurrence), and McCoy and several others had been seriously injured. She’d come, armed with some cheer up holos, when she’d come to a screeching stop before entering the small curtained area where she knew Leonard’s bed resided. The cause of her screeching stop, was none other than Jim Kirk. As she peered through the curtain she felt her mouth gape slightly. The Captain, who was brash, rash and cared for appearances, was slumped forward in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his folded arms cradled his head as he leant on the table. It was a position that had her wincing. She caught Leonard’s eye, who although looked beaten up and rather grumpy, looked relatively normal, he placed a bruised and broken finger to his cracked lips.

Leonard’s hand moved from where she thought Jim’s hand rested, and beckoned her forward.

“He was worried,” Leonard said quietly.

Uhura quirked her eyebrow, “as we all were.”

Perhaps,” he said. “At least I won’t be allowed on any more away missions, thank God.”

The second time had caused her to wonder, she had watched them closely, wondering if, perhaps, there was more than two close friends. She’d voiced her thoughts to Spock more than once, but, as he frequently told her, the nuances of human emotion frequently, and completely, sidestepped him. It had been the third time, months later, that had finally made her ask.

The third time was not long after. She had not forgotten the tenderness she’d seen, and, almost unknowingly, it had influenced her feelings towards Jim. She knew now that Jim deserved tenderness, deserved closeness and above all that he deserved her respect.

“I’m not talking about it now,” Leonard snapped roughly, Uhura stopped, not wanting to interrupt whatever bollocking her was giving.

“Bones, please,” Jim pleaded. Uhura’s gasp caught in her throat, there was no mistaking the fact those two were in a relationship now. She could feel it in the air. She peered round the corner at Jim’s broken expression and Leonard’s furious one.

“James, I said no.”

“Leonard,” Jim said, holding out her hand. Leonard brushed it aside and strode out, leaving Jim standing dumbly, his hand dropping to his side.

“So you and Leonard,” Uhura said, rounding the corner. Jim jumped before rubbing his face roughly.

“Not any more, it would seem,” he said, trying a half smile but performing more of a grimace.

Anonymous- if you want an angsty mckirk prompt what abt away mission gone wrong, jim presumed dead, bones Reacting?

“No.” the voice was final, dull, and those close enough to feel the sudden change, to know the emptiness it reflected, shuddered.

“Dr McCoy,” a sharp-by-nature but equally hollowed voice, called.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Len,” Scotty murmured, his own eyes filled with tears that fell without care down his face. He pressed a hand to Leonard’s shoulder and gripped him tight, not knowing what else to do except let him know he was not alone in his grief. Leonard stood, unmoving, looking out of the view screen, which moments ago showed the shuttles slow descent onto Argo IV, and the now sudden debris that floated aimlessly and passively through the expanse. The explosion that had rocked the shuttle was gone. Only silence and calm remained.

Uhura was trying, almost without thinking, to raise any one of the five people aboard the shuttle. Two security officers, Nurse Brega, a science officer, and of course, the one she wanted to hear most of all, Captain James T Kirk.

McCoy was rocking on the spot, his eyes still refusing to leave the view screen as he tried to process that the man he kissed goodbye, only ten minutes ago, was now dead.

Spock was talking, demanding they recover the wreckage, the bodies, and investigate the cause.

“No,” this time, this time it was more of a howl. “He can’t be, they can’t be-” and McCoy sank to his knees, his chest heaving with sobs. “He was just here, he was just here.” Scotty was now stood writing his hands, Uhura had left her station and was now nestled beside Scotty as they clung to one and other now knowing what else to do.

“Dr McCoy,” Spock said, not unkindly. “Perhaps Lieutenant Uhura should escort you back to your quarters.”

McCoy growled from beneath his hands, and he shakily wiped his face and nose on the sleeve of his blues. He stood, on shaking legs, and faced Spock with a snarl.

“I will not be treated like a child, Spock! I am a Doctor dammit, and those people were my people, and it’s my job be waiting for their bodies to come back, it’s my job-” he broke off.

Spock stepped forward, while the others looked around, unable to cope with their own emotions let alone those of Doctor McCoy. Spock gripped McCoy’s shoulders, his eyes filled with uncharacteristic tears. “I understand, my friend, I did not mean to deny your feelings or your duties, I simply meant to give you the time you required to compose yourself.”

“Jim’s dead,” McCoy said brokenly.

“Yes,” Spock said gripping him tighter as he shook. There was no need for denial, they all knew what had happened.

“What are we going to do?” McCoy said weakly.

Anonymous- if you want an angsty mckirk prompt what abt away mission gone wrong, jim presumed dead, bones Reacting?

“No.” the voice was final, dull, and those close enough to feel the sudden change, to know the emptiness it reflected, shuddered.

“Dr McCoy,” a sharp-by-nature but equally hollowed voice, called.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Len,” Scotty murmured, his own eyes filled with tears that fell without care down his face. He pressed a hand to Leonard’s shoulder and gripped him tight, not knowing what else to do except let him know he was not alone in his grief. Leonard stood, unmoving, looking out of the view screen, which moments ago showed the shuttles slow descent onto Argo IV, and the now sudden debris that floated aimlessly and passively through the expanse. The explosion that had rocked the shuttle was gone. Only silence and calm remained.

Uhura was trying, almost without thinking, to raise any one of the five people aboard the shuttle. Two security officers, Nurse Brega, a science officer, and of course, the one she wanted to hear most of all, Captain James T Kirk.

McCoy was rocking on the spot, his eyes still refusing to leave the view screen as he tried to process that the man he kissed goodbye, only ten minutes ago, was now dead.

Spock was talking, demanding they recover the wreckage, the bodies, and investigate the cause.

“No,” this time, this time it was more of a howl. “He can’t be, they can’t be-” and McCoy sank to his knees, his chest heaving with sobs. “He was just here, he was just here.” Scotty was now stood writing his hands, Uhura had left her station and was now nestled beside Scotty as they clung to one and other now knowing what else to do.

“Dr McCoy,” Spock said, not unkindly. “Perhaps Lieutenant Uhura should escort you back to your quarters.”

McCoy growled from beneath his hands, and he shakily wiped his face and nose on the sleeve of his blues. He stood, on shaking legs, and faced Spock with a snarl.

“I will not be treated like a child, Spock! I am a Doctor dammit, and those people were my people, and it’s my job be waiting for their bodies to come back, it’s my job-” he broke off.

Spock stepped forward, while the others looked around, unable to cope with their own emotions let alone those of Doctor McCoy. Spock gripped McCoy’s shoulders, his eyes filled with uncharacteristic tears. “I understand, my friend, I did not mean to deny your feelings or your duties, I simply meant to give you the time you required to compose yourself.”

“Jim’s dead,” McCoy said brokenly.

“Yes,” Spock said gripping him tighter as he shook. There was no need for denial, they all knew what had happened.

“What are we going to do?” McCoy said weakly.

Prompt response to: “I never said I was an expert.” By @witterprompts

Sweat rolled down his brow, dripping almost into his eyes, Chapel gently dabbed his forward and he nodded at her thankfully. The room was quiet, strange in to absence of sound.

He wasn’t new to surgeries, not even when he joined Enterprise, he was a seasoned Doctor, well practised. Of course, when he’d been landslide he’d loved the adrenaline surgery brought, the feeling of a life in your hands, putting someone back together, beating the clock and the gods. Now, however, surgery had lost its appeal.

It was hard, he worked on the ship, with the same people, for years at a time. So when a body crossed his bed, it was never faceless, it was someone he drank wth, played cards with, owed money too. It made it all the harder. Of course, it didn’t help that it was more often than not his best friend laying bleeding, dying on his table.

Despite his concentration, he felt another body enter the room. He growled in spite of himself at the unwelcome visitor.

“So,” a cheerful voice said, “how’s it going?”

“Get out, Jim.”

He felt Jim smile, it was though it lit the room and he forced himself to concentrate on the lives in his hands.

“I thought you’d done this before? Little cows that bite, why you so sweaty?”

I never said I was an expert! Dammit man, I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian!” He forced himself to concentrate back on the birthing alien dog in front of him.

Jim had been planetside, enjoying the local custom when he’d come across the poor thing being used as a puppy-mule. Jim, the soft-hearted moron, had been unable to leave the poor thing there.

“Archer had a dog on the first Enterprise,” Jim said cooing at one of the newly born puppies. “It’s only fitting that we do too.” Bones growled low in his throat, muttering about allergens and fleas.

Prompt response to: “I never imagined that I would make it this far, to be honest"

McCoy couldn’t remember how long he’d been running. He couldn’t remember if it had been minutes, hours or years. He was leaning more to years. He’d always hated running. His legs burnt, his throat was clogged with gasped half-breaths. He ignored the whizz and whosh of phaser blasts at his feet. He looked at the bobbing blond head in front of his and imagined slamming the infuriating kid into a wall. That spurred him on.

“Bones,” the kid called. And,like a well trained dog, he followed the kids sideways dash into a well hidden cave. McCoy hadn’t even known it was here. But then again, he was having a hard time seeing past the blackness taking over his vision.

His hands found the wall and with a gasp he fell forward against it. His chest heaved up and down and he was desperately parched. He wasn’t as young as he used to be. When he was no longer seeing stars, he became aware of a soothing hand trailing down his back. He glanced back at the kid who, although flushed from the run, look inexplicably chipper. He wanted to curse at him but he couldn’t find the energy (or breath) to do so. Instead, he leaned into the touch, so very thankful to have Jim’s touch after weeks of believing him to be dead.

“Shh, Bones,” Jim whispered calmly, although his eyes jumped erratically around the small space. “We’re okay, you’re alive.”

McCoy could hear the wonder in that statement, the utter disbelief that he himself shared.

McCoy turned to look at him, wincing at the bruises that marred his face, the stubble that Jim found itchy and annoying. He lost his breath again.

“You know, I never thought I’d make it this far, to be honest,” Jim said conversationally, but McCoy, who had always known his kid the best, knew the hopelessness and pain that lined that statement. He turned, letting Jim gently cup his face.

Like you wanna keep your snotty ass kid quiet, I get that. So you like feed them shit. That you haven’t paid for. Right whatever literally don’t care.

But then you give the checkout worker the slimey, bacteria coated THING and expect us to scan it? Like, I was once literally given the core of an apple. Another time I was given like the stick of a chewed lolly stick.

This is a response to: @thepathlesstrekked

McCoy has long lost count of how many times he and Jim had been separated (both by choice, and by force). Somewhere, along the way, it had become expected for them to have to fight to get back to each other. They always succeeded. It had become a fact of life: Jim Kirk will always nearly die on away missions; McCoy will always be asked to do the impossible; Scotty will always claim that something is beyond the realm of physics, and still manage it; and Jim and Bones are always end up without the other.

So, it had come to some surprise to McCoy that when the landing party had been attacked, and taken, by the (very) inhospitable locals, they’d been left in a cell together. McCoy had relaxed into the cell, secure in the knowledge that Spock (and the force of Enterprise) and Jim wouldn’t rest until they were out.

Then the unthinkable had happened.

Out of nowhere, in the middle of a game of ‘eye-spy’, they’d burst in. Old fashioned weapons were shoved into their backs. Wrenched from each other by uncaring hands.

“No!” Jim screamed in horror as Bones was lifted to his feet despite his squawking. Jim punched the man to the left, kicked the other man trying to restrain him. “No, Bones!” But Bones couldn’t speak, he had an arm crushing his larynx, a gun in his back. There was a wild look in Jim’s eye, and McCoy pleaded with his eyes, he couldn’t let Jim die for him, not here, not like this, and not again.

“We shoot,” the man at his neck growled. Jim sank to his knees in desperation, his hands on his head.

“Don’t,” he sobbed. They didn’t listen, they didn’t care.

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter Next generation - Fandom, harry potter- JK Rowling, HP Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, James/OC Characters: James Potter II, James Sirius Potter, Albus Potter, Lily Potter, Fred Weasley II, Harry Potter, Ginny Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Rose Weasley, Hugo Weasley Additional Tags: Next Generation, Hogwarts, Crime Series: Part 3 of After the War Summary: