surlymccoy // bones.
Leonard nods his acknowledgement of Jim’s words, but his hands hesitate, lingering to cradle the younger man’s face in his palms. He looks at Kirk’s pinched expression, his darting eyes and barely concealed agitation, and pushes down the ever-present well of concern. McCoy would be smart not to care so much about this kid, not when Jim’s got ‘trouble’ written like a textbook all over him.
The thing is…. The Thing Is… if Len doesn’t worry about Jim… Who Will?
Sighing, The doctor murmurs, “…alright, then. On three… One, Two–” Before he gets to ‘Three,’ Leonard presses the septum into alignment, the smallest audible pop indicating that the cartilage is aligned. Stabilizing Kirk’s face with one hand, Len reaches for his regen unit with the other, carefully directing it over the damaged nasal cavity until he’s sure the damaged tissue has knit itself back together.
“….three.” He finishes, his tone smirking even if his features remain perfectly neutral. “….now. Y’wanna tell me what this is about?”
other than a grimace, kirk doesn’t bat an eye. not at the pop, not at the ridiculousness of bones not counting all the way to ‘three.’ privately, he’s never understood that. if something’s going to hurt, it’s going to hurt. regardless of whether you count to one or one hundred. mostly, that tool of the trade just feels like a bad joke.
hell, bones is even not smirking like it is, like he’s ‘tickled to death’ at his own ingenuity.
regen. pulled back, the first thing jim does is wipe at his nose. it’s still tender, but whatever. he wipes, inspects the dried blood that’s been transferred onto his sleeve, & wipes again. “why does it have to be about anything?
