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itskateak · 4 years

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It’s Been a Long, Long Time

(Bucky Barnes x Fem!OC)

Summary: Stark’s charity events were always a hit, but Bucky never really liked attending any event anyways. Live music changed the atmosphere and he was surprised to find Velika singing a familiar tune. Well, he couldn’t leave her high and dry without a dance, could he?

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, nightmares, things that go along with PTSD, blood mentions, and tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 3,802 (dang)

A/N: If you didn’t see me yelling about my laptop shutting down mid-writing this the first time...now you know. Thank you, Windows for updating a day before I had scheduled you. Haha :)

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Bucky leaned against the bar, half-listening to what Steve was saying. The glass in his right hand was half full with some kind of smooth alcohol that Natasha had poured for him earlier in the evening, insisting that he try it. It wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t partial to it. He preferred something that burned the back of his throat when he was done. He nodded slowly along to the story Steve was still rambling on about, gaze somewhere trained on the floor.

Music drifted over the low chatter from a live band Tony Stark had hired. The musicians played jazz, blues, and swing like they were directly from that era. But it wasn’t all classic music. They took modern music as well and turned them into classic and vintage songs. He was quite impressed by the musicians and whoever had arranged the music. The main vocalist sounded like he was taken directly from the 30s and Bucky wondered for a moment if he was. It wasn’t like it was impossible with everything that he’d seen.

“Are you even listening to me, Buck?” Steve lightly shoved his shoulder to gain his attention. Though his tone said he was a little irritated, his expression was amused and his eyes were alight with fondness.

“Of course.” He lied, giving his best friend an unconvincing smile before he cracked a real one at Steve’s arched eyebrow. “I blanked for a minute. Parties aren’t my thing and I’m starting to, well...you know.” Starting to feel anxious and out of place.

“If you need to step out and get some air, you can. Don’t let me keep you here.” He gave Bucky’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile. Steve Rogers, always so kind and caring and conscientious of his needs. He was patient and so selfless. Sometimes it made him want to punch Steve in the face.

“I’m okay for now.” Bucky nodded and looked back over the crowd of celebrities and his teammates.

Tony was somewhere out there, talking to a celebrity or rich person trying to swindle more money out of there for the charity. Sam and Rhodey were probably knee-deep in women, trying to one-up each other with getting-out-of-proportion stories. Wanda and Vision were probably on the terrace getting air. Natasha and Bruce had tucked themselves away in a corner to get away from the crowd. And Clint and his wife were somewhere in the conglomeration.

Everyone was mingling, but Bucky was by the bar, hiding. If people wanted to speak to him for some reason, they could find him. But he couldn’t promise to hold a decent conversation. Socialization was not his thing anymore. Not since his run-ins and dealings with Hydra.

“Have you seen Velika, yet?” Steve asked, glancing over the crowd. “I thought I caught a glimpse of her earlier, but I couldn’t be sure.”

Velika Dante King was one of their team members that joined after the Accords were signed and the chaos with Thanos had been taken care of. According to her, SHIELD and Fury had been after her for years, trying to get her to join the Avengers. She refused for a long time, insisting she didn’t want to be back in the line of duty. As an ex-guardian angel (who worked in the Palace of Light as a guard. Boring job, she’d said), she’d seen enough action for many lifetimes. Not to mention her years as a bounty hunter later turned hitman for the Silver City She had gotten out and had been living a fairly peaceful life. Eventually, she caved and joined the team.

Velika and Bucky got along fine, understanding each other without words. She’d lived a long time, being an immortal and all, and had been one of many people to sit down and catch him up on things he’d missed. She got him in a way he didn’t expect, even with his past and the things he’d done. She didn’t care, having spilled her fair share of blood in ways that would make even the most experienced assassins nauseous. She got what it was like to wake up at night from nightmares and the inability to sleep because of them. She got jumping at loud noises and having bad days and everything that came along with being the way they are.

Velika was always there when he really needed her.

“No, I haven’t seen her. I suspect she’s up near the stage. Told me that she hasn’t seen her brother in months and Stark hired his group.” Bucky responded, taking another sip of his too smooth drink. Why was he even still drinking it? Natasha wasn’t anywhere near them and he was planning to finish it to not be rude to her.

“I heard Wanda and Nat talking about the dress she’d decided to wear. From the way they were talking, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got company.” Steve said, setting his own glass down on the bar top. He had a suggestive glint in his eye which was paired with a raised brow. With all the time Bucky spent with the woman, Steve had decided that there was something more than friendly between them. Ever since he’d found them asleep on the couch together, his head in her lap, Steve had been relentless. It had been a month so far, and he had yet to let up.

Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder. “If that bugs you, punk, then you go find her.” He teased, ignoring the twisting in his stomach at the thought of some high-class, snobby man flirting with her. He had begun to feel things for her that were in the territory of more than friends but he was never going to admit that to Steve nor himself. Before Steve could make comment on it, a familiar voice came over the speakers.

“Evening, everyone! Thank you for coming this evening and donating to the charity. We’re very happy to say that we’ve more than met our goal, but don’t let that discourage you from donating more. Relief for those still being affected by The Snap is very important and all of us on the Avengers team have made our own contributions.” Velika had taken her brother’s place at the mic and addressed the crowd with a smile. “I am very proud of my brother, Dakota-”

Indignant muttering (Bucky couldn’t hear it well from where he was, but it sounded like something along the lines of: “You know I hate that name.”) interrupted her from her brother beside her and she laughed, waving the white-haired man off. He crossed his arms and pretended to be mad before he broke out in a truly radiant smile.

“I am very proud of my brother, Dakota King, and his group, The Devil Tones, for their success. These very talented musicians agreed to help me with a special project for some very special teammates of mine. I promised Tony Stark, our generous host, that I would sing something if he paid me a thousand dollars.” The guests laughed as she beamed. “Obviously, since I’m up here, he paid me. Which I then turned around and donated to the charity because I’m not a selfish twit. Stark.” She fake coughed to badly conceal his name.

“Not fair, Velika! I will dock your paycheck!” Tony yelled from somewhere in the crowd, though his voice was full of amusement.

“This song is a lovely post World War Two tune that tells of a wonderful homecoming. My brother arranged a beautiful rendition featuring himself on trumpet and Anthony Grey on saxophone. So, to our resident fossils on the Avengers team...wherever you are....” Velika scanned the crowd with her unnaturally blue eyes and spotted the pair at the bar. She waved to them and grinned. “We dedicate this to you. I hope you enjoy.”

Bucky spared a glance at Steve. So, she’d prepared a song for them. He had never heard her sing, knowing that she had trouble with crowds and being in front of an audience. It was admirable that she had stepped out of her comfort zone to bring them a gift.

Velika conducted a measure before cueing the band in.

Immediately, Bucky recognized the song and a smile involuntarily crept up on his face. It’s Been a Long, Long Time was a classic post-war song. He had never listened to it before he had been shipped off to the frontlines. And after Hydra had gotten a hold of him, he hadn’t had the opportunity to listen to it. Steve had played it for him when catching him up on everything he’d missed. It was one of his absolute favorites and Bucky had learned to appreciate it.

The band was phenomenal together. Everything was balanced so that moving lines were heard overtop the rest. The strings were (thankfully) in tune and the drums didn’t feel like they were clashing with the rest of it. The trumpet player, King (as he apparently liked to be referred to by last name rather than first) sounded exactly like the recording, and Bucky was almost convinced that he had been the one to play it in Steve’s record. The tone was so clear and warm and the sound enveloped the entire room without ever being too much.

People started to slow dance with each other, the sentimental message of homecoming drawing them together. Tony found Pepper and drew her close. Vision and Wanda took the floor together. Clint grabbed his wife’s hand and urged her out with a smile. Sam and Rhodey chose one of the women in their audience to sweep off their feet.

“I’m going to go find Sharon before someone steals her away. Can’t pass up an opportunity to dance.” Steve clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder before disappearing into the crowd to find the woman.

Alone, Bucky watched Velika perform with fascination. She had such an air of charisma that anyone who didn’t know about her aversion to performing would think she was most comfortable on stage. She had a beautiful voice, he realized. It was smooth with a hint of smokiness to it, like a good whiskey.

“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again. It’s been a long, long time. Haven’t felt this way, my dear, since can’t remember when. It’s been a long, long time.” Velika swayed side to side, a smile on her face. Her platinum blonde hair was curled loosely and hung over her shoulders and back like a veil. She looked everything in the world like she had just walked out of a speakeasy during Prohibition.

Bucky downed the rest of his drink, pushing the glass towards the bartender and nodding to say he was finished with it. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as the performance went on. It really was a nice gift, and the arrangement was done wonderfully. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being back in a club before the war. Even if the song was post-war.

Steve was right, though. The dress she had worn was beautiful. It fit her perfectly, showing off her body in all the right places. It was a deep blue that offset her light eyes and hair. The floor-length mermaid gown had sheer sleeves with lace decorations that wound up her arms like vines. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been fending off men all evening. He fought a sneer at the thought.

“It’s been a long, long time.”

The saxophone player began his solo as she backed away to give him the spotlight. If anyone had any doubts that Anthony Grey loved what he did, they just needed to watch him. Each note he played was like a bit of his soul, and if it were liquid, it would be pooling at his feet and flooding the floor. Something about a good saxophone solo healed the soul. His tone was rich and clear but had the trademark raspiness of a jazz sax player.

Velika swayed along to the beat in the background, not detracting from the attention, but holding Bucky’s regardless. The lights made her appear like she was glowing. If she had stepped down from the stage, he surely would’ve asked her to dance. But she claimed she had two left feet and therefore would’ve likely turned him down.

The song ended faster than he expected or wanted and he applauded the performance. King hugged his sister and said something to her that made her throw her head back and laugh. Damn, Bucky thought. Under the spotlights, that had been gorgeous.

Velika approached the mic. “Thank you! I hope you all enjoyed that. I’ll hand the microphone back over to my brother and let you get back to your evening.” And with that, she backed away to leave the stage.

“Thank you, Vel. After that touching song, why don’t we pick things back up?” King said before the band struck up with a swing version of I Wanna Be Like You, which Bucky remembered was originally made famous by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It was a group Velika had introduced him and Steve to as they played similar music to their era.

King had much more charisma onstage than his sister. He moved with the music and had a presence that reminded Bucky of Cab Calloway. He watched him, amused and amazed, as he wasn’t aware the male body could move that way. He swung his hips side to side in such a fluid motion that he almost expected him to be made of liquid.

“Are you checking my brother out?” The teasing lilt of Velika’s voice drew his attention and he found her standing beside him, a broad smile on her face.

“Mm, not my type.” Bucky teased back, turning to her. “That was incredible, by the way.” Up close, she was far prettier than he expected. Whoever had done her makeup (as she had confessed she had no idea what to do earlier that week) had done it perfectly to suit her features and bring out her eyes. He knew there were challenges when it came to doing makeup on monolids. A girl back in the day had complained about it to her friends one time and he happened to overhear it.

“Thank you.” She ducked her head sheepishly and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I spent so many hours trying making sure I did it some justice instead of butchering it horribly.”

“You did it more than justice, Vel. How’s your evening going?” Bucky felt his nerves and out of placeness return, not realizing that they had been washed away during her performance.

“It’s good. Though, I was regretting my choice of attire earlier. I kept fending of guys and their compliments and flirting. Ugh.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance but still had a smile on her face. “I’m feeling a little anxious now that the performance is done and my adrenaline has worn off.”

“I don’t s’pose you’d mind if I steal you away for some air, then? I’ve been feeling closed in, too.” Bucky straightened up. “The roof should be open.”

“Shall we then?” Velika offered her arm up to him and he looped his through. Together, they headed for the elevator.

———————————————————————

“Oh, God. I regret wearing these shoes.” Velika used Bucky’s arm to keep her balance as she slipped her heels off. She ditched them by the elevator doors. “My knees hurt.”

“Why did you wear them, then?” Bucky asked, shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Because I’m short, Barnes, and I’d trip over my dress if I didn’t!” She lightly socked his bicep, causing him to laugh. She wandered to the railing, staring out over the city.

Bucky joined her, the light breeze ruffling the ends of his hair. It was quiet up here, as the party was four or five floors down and the levels muffled the music until it was just a whisper. The city lights were different from the stage lights and lit up Velika’s eyes like stars.

“Did you find some dame to dance with?” Velika asked, shifting her hair over one shoulder. She quirked a brow with a smirk, having put on a heavy New York accent to badly imitate a young Bucky. He playfully shoved her shoulder.

“I would’ve asked you, but you were busy providing the music.” He admitted with a smile.

“Well, you know I have two left feet. I wouldn’t want to step on your foot, hon’.” Velika turned around and leaned her back on the railing. “I do kind of wish I’d gotten to dance, though.”

“Miss King, would you do me the great honors of joining me for a dance?” Bucky made a show of extending his hand to her, putting on his best posh accent to make her laugh.

“Here? Now?”

“Well, I can’t leave my best girl without a dance.” He leaned forward a little more, urging her to take his hand. She did with a smile and pulled him away from the railing to a more open part of the roof.

“I’m your best girl now, huh? Don’t let Nat hear you say that.” Velika swung their hands a little.

“I couldn’t care less about what Nat thinks.” Bucky rested his metal hand on her lower back, clutching her other hand tightly. Her hand settled on his upper arm. He was about to take the first step before he realized they were missing something. “Are we going to awkwardly sway or is there some music you’re gonna magically put on?”

“Give me your phone, you dork.” She giggled and began navigating through it once he’d passed it to her. “Do I have to do everything?”

“I will throw you off this roof, Miss King,” Bucky responded. Despite it being a threat, he was trying to conceal laughter.

“Is there a specific song you’d like me to play?” She asked after shoving his shoulder again.

Bucky considered it, thinking of all the songs he’d heard that would be good to dance to. He only wanted to slow dance, as that would minimize the risk of injury from his two-left-footed partner. At least she wasn’t wearing the heels, so it wouldn’t hurt him. “Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby. Dream a Little Dream of Me.” He finally said.

“Oh, good choice.” Velika turned the volume up on the song and tucked it into the pocket on his chest, resting it against the folded handkerchief. She took up his hand and settled her hand on his bicep again.

Bucky gently laid his metal hand on her lower back again and began to sway from side to side. The tempo was perfect for a relaxed dance. There was no one to impress. No one to watch (other than FRIDAY through the cameras) and no one to point out that they were far closer to each other than was really necessary for a simple dance like this.

Velika stepped on his shoe and broke into giggles. “Glad I took my heels off?”

“I’ve been hurt worse.” He let go of her hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “How is someone as graceful as you so bad at dancing?”

“I’m a fighter, not a dancer! They never taught me to dance, jerk.” She lightly slapped his chest. “My brother’s the dancer.”

Bucky slowly spun her under her arm before pulling her back in. She looked beautiful that way, smiling at him over her shoulder in the light of the city.

Velika raised a brow as her hand slid down to his elbow rather than his bicep. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry, can’t help it.” Bucky chuckled. “You’re beautiful. Used to seeing you all strapped in and ready to fight. Can’t blame me if I just want to take it in.”

Velika shook her head but smiled nonetheless. He seemed to be getting her to smile a lot tonight, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He adored her smile, even with the fact the left side didn’t rise as much as the right. She leaned her head on his chest, eyes closing.

Bucky wrapped his left arm completely around her waist, pulling her closer. Something felt right about this, and all feelings of being out of place and on edge left. He was sure she could hear his heartbeat steadily increasing. He never would have imagined that the woman he met a year ago, jaded and untrusting, would be in his arms, dancing with him on the roof.

It felt peaceful, domestic. For once, Bucky felt like he was entirely human again. Like he wasn’t always walking on eggshells with himself to avoid relapsing into his old ways, even after T’Challa had his team had helped remove Hydra’s programming. And for once, he felt that he could leave it behind and start a life.

The song was ending far too quickly for his liking. He wanted this moment to last forever because he didn’t know if he’d ever feel like this again. If they’d ever be like this again. As the song came to a close, he spun her under her arm again and brought her into a gentle dip, supporting her with his metal arm.

Velika looked back up at him, hands holding onto his shoulders with a loose grip. She trusted him to not drop her. Her unnaturally light blue eyes flickered between his, judging his expression. One hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. It lingered on his cheek.

Bucky leaned in tentatively, heart in his throat. Was he really going to do this? This could destroy the friendship they’d built over the last year. He couldn’t keep it in any longer. He liked her more than a friend and he wanted to hold her like this all the time. He hadn’t realized he’d been hovering a hair away from her until she pulled him down.

Velika kissed him, the hand still on his shoulder wrapping around his neck. Her lips tasted like strawberry chapstick and some kind of alcohol that she had had earlier. They were soft and moved against his own like a perfect match. A missing piece in a puzzle finding its place. A wandering warrior finding their home.

He broke this kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, watching those bright blue eyes flutter open. He couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. She returned it with a soft giggle, her teeth catching her lip.

“Can I...can I kiss you again?” He asked, breathlessly.

“You can kiss me as much as you want and whenever you want, James Buchanan Barnes.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #my writing #velika dante king #writeblr #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x ofc

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fireinmywoods · 6 years

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fic: palimpsest [2/8]

“Skip to the point, Jim. The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can refuse and get back to work.”

“It’s really no big deal,” Jim says as the door slides closed behind them. “I just need you to come down to Hearth with us…as my husband.”

The Enterprise has been sent to negotiate reaccession to the Federation with an isolationist religious group known as the Kindred. While there, Jim notices that some of the children seem to be gravely ill. The problem is, the Kindred practice faith healing and refuse to allow a doctor to be brought in. So Jim does what he does best: he improvises.

CHAPTER 2: In which we meet the Kindred, Leonard is thoroughly creeped out, and Jim rewrites history. PG-13/Teen for Bones’s potty mouth and references to past trauma/mental health struggles. ~7,200 words. [Chapter 1]

Jim is fidgety as their guides escort them from the beam-down point to the Kindred’s audience hall. He keeps playing with his too-big ring, toying with it, spinning it around his finger, and just generally making it painfully obvious that he only slapped it on for the first time today.

“Quit fiddling with the damn thing,” Leonard hisses at him. “It’s bad enough you’re dragging me into this nonsense. Least you could do is try to act natural.”

“It feels weird,” Jim says under his breath, childish as ever, but he does leave off messing with the ring, at least.

Sulu laughs. “I’ll bet it does. Never thought I’d see anyone make an honest man of you, Captain.”

“Who, me? Never,” Jim says, all gleaming bravado and a sideways grin.

Leonard rolls his eyes.

Up ahead of them on the path, one of their guides glances back over her shoulder with a furrowed brow, probably wondering what all the chatter is about. Leonard can’t stop himself from tensing up under the sudden scrutiny – so much for acting natural – but before he can get too anxious about it, Jim leans over and presses his smiling lips to Leonard’s cheek, just grazing the side of his mouth.

Leonard freezes, his heart tripping over itself in his chest. Did Jim just – is he actually – ?

Jim pulls away, and somehow that drives the sensation home, like Blumberg’s sign, a kind of rebound tenderness. That really happened. Jim really just kissed him, right here in front of the guide and Sulu and Aaronson and God and everybody.

The guide tuts and turns back around, evidently satisfied.

“Aww,” Sulu says, very quietly.

“With all due respect, sir,” Aaronson pipes up, “you two are adorable.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Jim says cheerfully. Leonard doesn’t have to look at him to know exactly the infuriating smirk he’s wearing now.

The audience hall is large and austere, dimly lit by a handful of wall-mounted torches to supplement the fading sunlight coming in from the high windows. The thirteen members of the Kindred’s High Council sit in hard-backed chairs behind a plain, curved wooden table, all of them wearing shapeless gray robes and impassive expressions – just about what Leonard would expect from folks who voluntarily abstain from every small pleasure that makes life worth living.

The woman seated at the center of the table – the Penitent Mother, Leonard assumes – is especially severe-looking, with a thin angular face and silver-streaked black hair yanked back into a tight knot at her neck. She observes their party with sharp eyes, lingering for a few seconds on Leonard before turning her attention to Jim.

“Well met, Brother James,” she says. “Are we to understand that this man is the husband you spoke of?”

“Well met, Mother,” Jim says in a rare tone of deference. He raises his and Leonard’s clasped hands. “And yes. Allow me to introduce my husband, Leonard.”

The words sound strange as hell coming out of his mouth. Leonard can’t even remember the last time Jim called him by his real name, to say nothing of the other part.

“Well met in the grace of the gods’ glorious mercy,” the Councilors chorus in unison, staring so intently at Leonard that he breaks out in goosebumps. Jesus H. Christ. He’s faced down disciplinary tribunals less intimidating than these stone-faced kooks.

He feels a light tap-tap against the back of his hand, a silent prompt from Jim. “Uh,” he blurts out, caught off guard, and dies a little on the inside as Jim’s fingers twitch in an otherwise expertly concealed spasm of laughter. He is going to strangle Jim with his bare fucking hands when this is all over – assuming that whatever hellish alien plague they’re chasing doesn’t get him first. “Well met. It’s, uh…it’s an honor to meet you all.”

The thirteen Councilors keep staring at him. Waiting.

“…thank you,” he adds lamely.

Dammit, he’s a doctor, not an orator. Big flowery speeches are Jim’s thing; Leonard’s just responsible for dealing with whatever ass-kicking he might collect afterward.

The Mother seems to sense as much, as she directs her next words back to Jim. “Your husband does not share your loquacious nature, Brother James.”

“No, Mother,” Jim agrees. “He’s out of practice, I’m afraid. It’s a full-time job just listening to me, as I’m sure you can imagine. Poor Leonard only manages to get a word in every other day or so.”

One of the younger-looking Councilors actually cracks her expressionless mask to smile a little – the first hapless victim of Jim’s charm offensive, though undoubtedly not the last. He’ll get them all in the end; Leonard would stake a month’s water credits on it.

Well, maybe all except the Mother, who’s pursing her lips in a way that could just as easily be annoyed as amused. “And how long have you and your laconic spouse been married?” she inquires.

Leonard tenses up again – damn it all, why didn’t they think to talk this through ahead of time? – but Jim doesn’t miss a beat. “More than ten years now, Mother. Leonard and I met on our very first day at the Academy – that’s the training school for Starfleet recruits. Actually, we met on our way there, on the shuttle. It was…well, I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, exactly, but I can tell you Leonard made quite the first impression on me. All over me, in fact.” He leans forward slightly, like he’s sharing a secret, and confides in a low voice, “My husband here gets very airsick.”

Leonard’s face flames red-hot with embarrassment. He grips Jim’s hand so hard he can almost hear their bones creaking, trying to convey just how much trouble he’s in, and Jim has the unmitigated gall to squeeze back – and then, to really rub salt in the wound, he lifts their joined hands and drops an exaggeratedly apologetic kiss on Leonard’s knuckles.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, not sounding it in the least. “But you wouldn’t have me lie to these fine people, would you?”

Strangling is too good for him, Leonard decides. No, he’ll stick him in medbay to cool his heels for a spell, infect him with Findolessian pox and strap him to the bed so he can’t scratch at the welts, order his staff to feed him nothing but beets and chopped liver and that Plufeen pudding he hates, and after a few days of that maybe he’ll bring him back to Iqqar and see how he fares with another round in the Screaming Forest.

He does have to admit the joke’s landed well, even if it is at his expense. Jim was obviously aiming to lighten the mood, and he’s succeeded, as several of the Councilors are now trying not to laugh, coughing or stroking their beards in order to disguise their impious smiles.

Beside him, Leonard can hear Aaronson tittering too. He’ll kill her first, he tells himself: Aaronson, then the rest of the crew from before, then Jim. Jim he’ll save for last.

“In the interest of fairness,” Jim continues with a smile of his own, buoyed by the positive feedback, “let me assure you that my dear husband has put up with much worse from me over the years. And besides, he was an utter gentleman about the whole thing. Got me new boots and everything.” He pauses to wait out another sprinkling of poorly concealed laughter. “Now, I’ll grant you, this wasn’t quite the fairytale romance I’d imagined, but even with that…ah, inauspicious introduction, it was clear to me from the start that this Leonard McCoy was someone truly special. Smart, dependable, hard-working, honorable, faithful, compassionate – a man anyone would be proud to call their husband.” He lowers his voice again. “Your clan is fortunate to boast of so many good, honest sons and brothers, but between you and me, back on Earth they’re rather thin on the ground.”

“Small wonder, in that wasteland of iniquity and temptation,” one of the Councilors sniffs. “With such constant enticement to sin, the gods’ children are too easily led astray into wickedness and depravity. When one lies down with the dogs, does one not rise with fleas?”

Jim nods in solemn agreement, looking for all the world like butter wouldn’t melt in that mouth. “Too true, Sister. Which is why I knew I couldn’t let Leonard get away. I was sure from that very first day that I’d found the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.” He pulls a wry, self-deprecating face. “Of course, I did need to convince him of that.”

There’s more scattered laughter. Even the Mother looks like she might be thawing some. The poor suckers never stood a chance, really: Jim’s a fearsomely slick liar when he puts his mind to it, and he’s playing these unworldly rubes like a fiddle, slowly but surely selling them on the Trojan horse that’s turned up at their doorstep. The character he’s crafted is perfectly calibrated to slip past their defenses, bold but respectful, self-impressed but well-intentioned – the kind of man who wears his flaws on his sleeve, secure in the knowledge that they only add to his appeal. A bit of a rascal, sure, but a harmless one, so transparently warm and good-natured that even the sternest Councilors seem inclined to forgive him his excesses. They’d never tolerate a man like him within their own ranks, but he makes for an entertaining visitor, someone they can feel both amused by and superior to. By the time Jim’s done with them, they’ll have happily carted that horse right on inside the city walls, patting themselves on the back for it the whole while.

Jim has his reasons for this deception, and fine upstanding reasons they are. He is a good man, after all, in all the ways that really matter. He’s a better man than the Kindred could even begin to comprehend, cloistered and dogmatic as they are – but harmless? Oh, no. Not even close.

“And so,” Jim goes on, “I began my campaign. Fortunately, Leonard and I had a few classes together that first semester, and somehow we always wound up sitting next to each other. Very mysterious.” That gets him another laugh, naturally. “He also turned out to be very much a creature of habit, so it didn’t take long to figure out when he normally went to the dining hall – and wouldn’t you know, those were just the times I found myself getting hungry. I don’t think the poor man got to enjoy half a dozen meals in peace that whole semester.” He glances over at Leonard with another shamelessly unapologetic smile. “Now, every once in a while he wouldn’t show, but I quickly learned that just meant he was so hard at work that he couldn’t be bothered to eat. And I couldn’t just let him go hungry, could I? So, as a caring friend, I had no choice but to get food for both of us and track him down wherever he was holed up so we could eat together. And then there were the completely accidental times I just happened to run into him outside his dorm…or at the gym…or in the library… I tell you, the coincidences really started stacking up.”

Another ripple of laughter from the Council. They’re not even trying to hide it now.

“I think you’re all starting to get the picture – which puts you well ahead of Leonard, bless him. I couldn’t have been less subtle in my intentions if I’d carved a marriage proposal into a brick and thrown it at his head, but as time went on it became clear that I was pursuing either the cruelest or the most outstandingly clueless man in the universe. As smart as he was, he just did not seem to register my increasingly embarrassing attempts at courtship.” Jim sighs theatrically. “Well, we must all have some small flaws to keep us humble, and apparently this was Leonard’s. Fortunately for both of us, mine is a tendency toward…oh, let’s call it persistence.” He offers another wry smile as the Councilors laugh. “So I just kept carving out a place for myself in his life like we’d both agreed to it, and figured that eventually he’d either send me packing or get on board.”

That’s…not actually too far off from the truth, though Jim’s wisely edited out all the boozing, brawling, and other less than wholesome activities he dragged Leonard into that first year. He really did stick to Leonard like a burr from the beginning, always there no matter which way Leonard turned. He’d even pop up at the hospital sometimes, sneaking or charming his way past the front desk staff to pester Leonard on his breaks (and, yes, occasionally to force food on him). Leonard couldn’t seem to shake him. Not that he ever tried all too hard. He never really minded Jim’s company, even when he was at his most bothersome. He just couldn’t figure out what his game was – what some smooth-talking pretty boy prodigy could possibly want from a grouchy old cuss like him.

It took Leonard a while to see through the smoke and mirrors, to see how goddamn lonely the kid was. Sure, he’d talk up a storm to anyone who’d listen, and lord knows he joked and flirted and played around with plenty of fresh-faced young things who fell under his spell, but he never let a single one of them within striking distance of a real human connection. He was hiding in plain sight, all that big talk and attitude projected around him like a damn deflector shield. Everyone at the Academy would’ve said they knew Jim Kirk – the Kelvin baby, the loudmouth, the troublemaker, the one to beat – but nobody had any idea who he really was.

Nobody except Leonard.

It wasn’t that Jim let down his defenses around him, so much as he occasionally offered a glimpse past them. It would be years before Leonard figured him out entirely, but it was enough, at first, to realize that there was more to this cagey, arrogant kid than met the eye, that he was both less and more than he pretended to be – and that, for some mysterious reason, he’d chosen to cast his lot with Leonard.

What that reason was, Leonard still doesn’t know. Maybe Jim only had one last shot at vulnerability left in him, and he decided to gamble it on the first person he came across. Maybe he thought that two barely functional human disasters might balance each other out. Maybe he sniffed out the yawning void of Leonard’s own isolation, the cold gnawing heartache of having no one left to nag at and fuss over and give a shit about.

Hell, maybe he just figured that with his knack for finding trouble, it’d be handy to get in with a doctor, even one as washed up and prickly as Leonard.

Leonard doesn’t know the real reason, even all these years later. He has no doubt Jim would tell him if he asked now, but the truth is he doesn’t much care. What does it matter? By the time he finally worked out what Jim was playing at, he liked the crazy son of a bitch too much not to keep him around, and that was pretty much that.

Leonard has completely zoned out of what’s going on around him, lost in his thoughts, but when he surfaces, no one seems to have noticed. All eyes are on Jim, who’s still chattering away, building on the bones of the story he’s constructed: a squeaky-clean, charmingly clumsy little romance between a high-spirited motormouth and a reserved, somewhat oblivious loner. He’s rambling now, blabbing on about all kinds of random shit, only some of which has any basis in reality – a lecture he convinced Leonard to attend with him, some unnecessarily complicated maneuvering he orchestrated to get them assigned to the same project group in ethics class, an awkward conversation about future plans that Leonard’s positive he pulled straight out of his ass. Leonard has always thought it was the mark of a bad liar, getting caught up on the details like this, but the Councilors are just about hanging off Jim’s every word, clearly swallowing the whole tale hook, line, and sinker. A couple of them have even leaned forward in their seats, like kids spellbound by some action-packed holovid.

In a place as dull as Hearth, Leonard supposes you’ve got to take your entertainment where you can find it.

Frankly, he’s feeling a touch spellbound himself. There’s something strangely compelling about hearing Jim spin this grand story, weaving in just enough truth that it feels real, feels right, even to Leonard, who knows perfectly well things didn’t happen the way Jim’s claiming. He nearly finds himself nodding along at some points, mindlessly agreeing to a version of his own life that seems to make just as much sense as the one he got.

“So the end of the semester rolls around, and I am drowning in work,” Jim says, in a tone that suggests he’s building to an important plot point, though Leonard can’t imagine what it might be. “I’ve got a million papers and presentations and class debates and exams, and I need to just put my head down and get through it, so I set up camp in an out-of-the-way corner of the library and pretty much just stayed there. I’d leave once or twice a day to go to class, pick up something to eat on my way back, maybe stop by the dorms for a quick shower, and then it was back to work. I barely had time to breathe, much less chase after Leonard…but for once, I didn’t need to.” He flashes Leonard a smug smile and gives his hand a conspicuous squeeze. “A couple days in, Mister Aloof over here tracked me down to my little work nest, and once he found me, he kept coming by to check on me. Two, three, four times a day he’d show up – because, you know, he just happened to be passing by. Of course.” The sly arch of his eyebrow makes it clear what he thinks of that excuse. “And, hey, since he was already there, why didn’t we go grab something to eat? No? Well, in that case he’d forgotten he had some protein bars in his bag. And it was awful late, didn’t I think it’d be a good idea to get a few hours of sleep? He could walk me to my dorm – he was heading that direction anyway.” He shakes his head. “I guess by that point I was such a mess he thought I needed an escort.”

“You were,” Leonard interjects unprompted, because this part’s true enough. “You looked like you had one foot in the grave.” Jim had been running himself ragged from the day they arrived at the Academy – taking too many classes, fighting tooth-and-nail to stay at the top of the heap in all of them, desperate to prove himself to Pike and their professors and everyone who called him George Kirk’s son like he wasn’t his own damn person – and it all built to a frenzied crescendo at the end of the semester. Eventually Leonard would come to realize it was just Jim’s way, that he never found something worth doing that wasn’t worth wildly overdoing, but at the time, he was honestly concerned the kid’s heart might give out from the stress.

Jim shoots him a look of fond exasperation. “You see how he is?” he asks the Councilors, and they laugh right on cue. “I mean, I should have been thrilled, right? Here he was seeking me out for a change. Any other time I’d have done any old thing he suggested, but I really didn’t have the time. Besides, if I’d left with him, even just to go eat, who knew whether I’d have had the willpower to drag myself back to work. So I’d say no, no, I’m fine, and he’d shrug and leave me be, and a while later he’d be back and we’d go through the whole scene again.” He tsks and adds with a warm twist of irony, “Honestly, the man just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

More laughter. Jim’s got them all now, every last one, just as Leonard predicted.

“Well, finally, after a couple days of this, he gave up on arguing with me and decided that if I wasn’t going to leave, he wasn’t either. It was the sensible thing to do, you understand. After all, someone had to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn’t just drop dead in the middle of cramming for exams, and who better than a – a friend? So he brought everything he was working on, and his own blankets, and plenty of food for the both of us, and we both spent the next week slaving away in our little nest.” He waves off the croon rising from the Council table. “Let me tell you, it was awful. I was awful. I was practically speaking in tongues by the end, I was so out of it, and I’m sure I looked like something the cat dragged in. Probably smelled like it, too. But Leonard stayed with me the whole time. Even at my worst, he stayed right by my side.” He pauses, giving the payoff time to settle as the Councilors smile and sigh. When he speaks again, his voice has gone soft and nostalgic, almost wistful: “That’s when I knew he loved me back.”

Leonard glances sideways at him, surprised by both the words and his tone, but Jim doesn’t look his way this time. He’s gazing down at the flagstones with dreamy, unfocused eyes, seemingly lost in thought. His face is deceptively open and earnest, the very image of a man in love, and something goes painfully tight in Leonard’s chest.

It’s not true, he knows it’s not true, that’s not how it happened – or it is how it happened, but it’s not what it meant. He did join Jim in his library hideout for the last few days of the semester, but it wasn’t some big romantic gesture like Jim’s making it out to be. He cared about the kid, that was all, and he was starting to figure out that Jim desperately needed looking after but didn’t know how to ask for it, didn’t even really know exactly what it was he’d be asking for, so it would be up to Leonard to bring this half-feral stray in from the cold and try his hand at housebreaking him.

Leonard did grow to love him eventually, of course he did – because Jim turned out to be the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him, because he was brilliant and daring and loyal and crazy as a bessie bug, because he brought hope and curiosity and purpose back into Leonard’s life. In time he came to love Jim unconditionally, enough to sneak him onto the Enterprise and follow him out into the black and break his oath for him and get talked into all kinds of stupid shit like throwing on a wedding ring to put one over on a bunch of religious bumpkins – but all that came much later. Back at the end of their first semester, the two of them were still nothing more than a couple of fuck-ups with conveniently compatible baggage, just beginning to test the waters of real friendship. They certainly weren’t anywhere close to the kind of love Jim’s suggesting.

Leonard knows it’s not true, but, God, there’s something so yearning in Jim’s expression that he suddenly finds himself wishing it were. He wishes he could go back in time and rewrite their story, blot out everything hard and messy and ugly and weave what’s left into Jim’s pretty lie, give them both the nice tidy happily-after-ever this tale’s obviously building toward. It makes so much sense the way Jim tells it, makes even Leonard believe that it could have, should have happened like that.

But, no, he’s being foolish, wishing for the impossible in more ways than one. Even if they had gotten together back then, how would that have played out, realistically? The two of them wouldn’t have stood a snowball’s chance in hell at making it work in the long run, at finding their way to that fairytale happy ending. Try as he might, Leonard can’t imagine there’s any conceivable way they’d still be standing here together all these years later, happily married and stronger than ever. Far more likely that they’d have crashed during takeoff, and been damn lucky if they didn’t destroy each other in the process.

Brilliant and daring and loyal as he may have been, Jim Kirk at twenty-two was also a goddamn grab bag of unresolved trauma, suspicious and closed off, brimming over with self-hatred and survivor’s guilt. Pike’s challenge had given him a future to chase after, but his past was never far behind him in those days, and the looming threat of it made him volatile, determined to drink and fuck and fight his demons into submission whenever they started nipping at his heels.

That’s not to say that Leonard was any better. His daddy’s blood on his hands, losing the baby, Jocelyn leaving him, the suffocating depression that had tanked his prospects at the hospital – it had all left him a shell of himself, beaten down and resentful. Where Jim chose to run from his pain, Leonard wallowed bitterly in his, endlessly ruminating on all the myriad ways life had fucked him over. He was as much of a mess as Jim was, in his own way, jaded and self-pitying where Jim was defensive and distrustful. Neither of them were in any kind of shape to be taking a shot at romance at that point in their lives, and with each other? Jesus, it would’ve been a recipe for disaster. Odds are they would have gone down in flames, and Leonard would have lost Jim forever, long before he ever even really knew him.

Nothing would have been worth that. Nothing. Not even the prettiest little fairytale Jim can spin up.

Beside him, Jim shakes his head, visibly collecting himself, and looks back up at the Council table with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry,” he says, as though most of the Councilors aren’t beaming at him, looking practically as gooey and starry-eyed as he does. “I haven’t told this story in quite a while, and to be honest, I’m a bit of a sap at the best of times.” He dabs carefully at the corner of his eye with a fingertip – hell, is he actually getting weepy? He’s really going for it here. “Well, the jig was pretty much up at that point, and needless to say, things went a lot smoother after that. We courted through the next semester and got married at the end of the year, right after exams were over. It was a small wedding, just us and the preacher, along with a handful of friends who hadn’t left for home yet.”

“Your families did not attend?” asks a white-bearded Councilor, sounding troubled. “Were they not involved in your courtship and betrothal?”

“Neither of us had much family left, Uncle,” Jim says, to a round of pitying tuts. “So we started our own.”

The Council murmurs in approval.

“You are happy together,” the Mother says. Her expression and tone have both warmed considerably since their arrival.

“Yes, Mother.” Jim trails his thumb down Leonard’s, a deliberate little motion calculated to draw attention. “We are.”

As one, the Council turns its gaze to Leonard, thirteen pairs of eyes boring into him expectantly. Christ. He doesn’t care if they’re smiling now; that’s still creepy as hell.

“Yeah,” he says. It comes out hoarse, rough in a way that feels dangerous, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I…I married my best friend. Couldn’t be happier.”

The Mother’s thin lips slant upward. “As it should be.”

She starts to say something else, but Leonard’s distracted by Jim, who’s right on top of him all of a sudden, closing what little distance there was between them. Jim’s fingertips are delicate points of pressure on his jaw, urging him to turn his head, and he obeys unthinkingly, only to see Jim looking at him with a silent question in his eyes. Leonard doesn’t even know what his answer is, exactly, but Jim must see that it’s not no, because the next second he’s tilting his face at just the right angle and kissing him full on the mouth.

The kiss is a fleeting thing, as quick and dry and innocent as can be, but damned if it doesn’t rattle through Leonard like an earthquake, shivering through his joints, shifting the ground beneath his feet. For the space of an instant, he forgets about the Kindred and Sulu and Aaronson and the sick kids and everything else, all of that eclipsed by Jim:

Jim’s hand on his jaw, holding him in place.

The ticklish brush of Jim’s hair grazing his forehead.

Jim’s thumb sweeping across his cheek in a tender, absentminded caress.

The plush warmth of Jim’s mouth against his, soft and chaste, but teasing at more, so much more, anything he wants if he could just bring himself to ask for it, to take it –

Jim looks him in the eye as he draws back, gazing up from under those long lashes, and if the kiss was a tease, that look is an unequivocal promise. He strokes over Leonard’s cheek one last time, presses the pad of his thumb to the corner of Leonard’s lips, and then lets his hand fall away, his own lips tugging up on one side.

Leonard stares at him, speechless, breathless, a hot flush creeping down the back of his neck. It occurs to him, in the one staticky corner of his brain not knocked completely offline by what just happened, that he hopes Jim doesn’t realize the effect he’s had. Getting all worked up over a little church kiss like that – lord, the kid would never let him live it down.

But he can’t seem to pull himself together, not with Jim giving him that sweet, lopsided smile, as if they’re the only ones in the room, as if this were a real moment between them. Jim’s eyes are still fixed on his, and they’re so dark in this light, a deep velvety blue, like the last trace of daylight in the late evening sky. He’s just got the prettiest goddamn eyes.

Then he winks one of those pretty eyes, a tiny flicker of humor even Sulu and Aaronson probably don’t catch, and the tension breaks, the strange tightness in Leonard’s chest easing up all at once, unraveling into much more manageable threads of fondness and annoyance and maybe just a little bit of grudging amusement.

Well, hell, he thinks philosophically – if he absolutely had to be married to some troublemaking jackass, he supposes he could do worse than this troublemaking jackass.

He about jumps out of his skin a second later at the sound of a loud, meaningful cough from the Council table. Christ, they’re still stood right in the middle of the audience hall, completely on display for the Councilors, who are sitting there behind their table watching the pair of them with soppily indulgent smiles. Of course they are, that’s the point of all this – to prove themselves to the Kindred, to paint a convincing portrait of an inoffensive, traditional-enough marriage so these backwater hicks will accept Leonard’s presence and he can get to work hunting down this sickness Jim’s so worried about. This is all part of Jim’s Trojan horse strategy: the story, the hand-holding, the moon-eyed expressions, everything. It’s all make-believe, the shiny façade of a relationship that’s never actually existed. Leonard has got to remember that, for the sake of his own sanity.

Shit, whatever silver-tongued sorcery Jim’s been working here, it’s potent as hell. Even Leonard’s forgotten there are people in the damn horse.

“My apologies, Mother,” Jim says as he turns back to face the Council, sounding slightly abashed.

“Nonsense,” the Mother says sternly, with more vigor than Leonard has heard from her yet. “Does my daughter seek forgiveness for stoking the kitchen fire? Does the farmer repent of weeding and watering their crops? The gods bid us to cherish and honor our spouses, Brother James, for the untended garden falls to disorder and neglect, while that which is carefully nurtured will flourish and thrive.” The other Councilors are nodding along, heads bobbing in unnerving unison. This is obviously a well-rehearsed lecture. “Marriage is the foundation upon which the family home is built – it must be maintained lest the whole structure fall to ruin. Perhaps elsewhere in your Federation, a faithful and affectionate union may be cause for ridicule or contempt, but I assure you that we Kindred abide by the age-old teachings which exhort us to devote ourselves to our this-worldly families with the same fidelity as we show to the gods themselves.” She eyeballs them with a discomfiting blend of censure and approval. “It is encouraging to be reminded that even on Earth, with all its distractions and temptations, there are yet some who walk a righteous path. Your commitment to one another is to be commended. You must take care not to allow wicked influences to corrupt that which should be held most sacred.”

“Indeed, Mother,” Jim says, bowing his head. “Forgive me if I seemed cavalier. Rest assured that Leonard and I both value the strength and sanctity of our marriage above all else.”

Leonard is still trying to wrap his head around half of what the Mother was going on about – honestly, Jim gives him grief for mixing metaphors? – but he nods too, trying his best to mimic Jim’s expression of humbled deference.

The Mother considers them both for a long moment. “What of children?”

“None yet, Mother,” Jim says, with a quick squeeze of Leonard’s hand, knowing as he does how that question, and his answer, twang painfully deep down in Leonard’s chest, the ghost of old heartbreak still rattling its chains in the catacombs of a former life. “But we have plans, naturally. After the end of this mission, when we can settle down and provide a safe and stable home for them.”

This excuse seems to satisfy the Councilors, including the Mother, who rewards the two of them with another faint thin-lipped smile. “May the gods grant you that which you desire in the fullness of time,” she proclaims, in the manner of a woman who’s used to making such demands, and who fully expects to be heeded. She looks up toward the windows and the darkening sky outside. “On the subject of time, it seems the hour has already grown late. We will begin negotiations in the morning.” She turns back to Jim. “You are invited to join us in the congregation hall for the evening meal. We have also prepared sleeping quarters for you, though perhaps you would prefer to return to your more…luxurious accommodations aboard your vessel.” There’s more than a hint of challenge in her voice, and Leonard knows even before Jim says anything that they’re going to be stuck down here in this spartan hellhole for as long as the mission takes.

Jim bows his head again. “We are honored to accept your hospitality, Mother.”

The Mother purses her lips again. It’s a positive sign this time, Leonard thinks. “Very well. If you would be so kind as to wait outside, we will conclude the day’s business and join you shortly to escort you to the congregation hall.”

“Laying it on pretty thick back there, don’t you think, Captain?” Sulu says as soon as the heavy wooden doors have groaned shut, leaving the four of them standing alone outside the audience hall in the rapidly falling dusk.

Jim scoffs. “Says from the guy who met his husband by literally swooning into his arms like the damsel out of some old romance novel.”

“Man, I told you, it was heatstroke,” Sulu says. “It’s not like I planned it.”

“Uh huh.” Jim claps Sulu on the shoulder. “I’m just saying, let’s not go casting stones, Brother Hikaru. That house of yours is looking pretty fragile.”

Sulu shakes off Jim’s hand with a roll of his eyes and turns a commiserating look on Leonard. “I swear you’ve got the patience of a saint, Doc. I would’ve throttled him about thirty seconds in. I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Leonard stomps down an irrational flare of defensiveness on Jim’s behalf. What the hell’s gotten into him today? Jim and Sulu have always had a brotherly, trash-talking relationship off the bridge; it’s never bothered him before. “Sedatives help,” he says shortly.

“Not here, they don’t,” Jim says. “No hypos allowed, remember? You’re stuck with me just the way I am, hubby.”

Leonard grimaces, tugging his hand free of Jim’s for the first time in what must be over an hour now. He’s practically lost feeling in his fingertips at this point. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, sorry,” Jim says. “What would you prefer? Pookie? Snookums? Buttercup?”

“None of the above.”

“Pumpkin? Baby cakes? Muffin? Honey buns?”

“No.”

“Now I’m hungry,” Aaronson sighs.

“Loverboy? Sweet cheeks? Come on, give me something to work with here.”

“How about ‘Leonard,’” Leonard says. “Seeing as how it’s my name.”

“Suit yourself, Leonard,” Jim replies. Somehow he manages to make it sound completely ridiculous, more absurd and ill-fitting than any of the options that came before it.

“Thank you,” Leonard says flatly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. What he actually wants is for Jim to cut the shit and just call him Bones, the way he always has, but he will be goddamned if he admits that out loud, especially in front of Aaronson and Sulu.

“Yeah, this is officially my favorite mission ever,” Sulu says. “I take it back, Captain – McCoy was a way better choice than Chapel. This wouldn’t have been nearly as funny with her.”

Leonard frowns at Jim, surprised and unexpectedly stung for some reason he really doesn’t care to examine too closely. “You wanted to bring Christine down?”

“Don’t look at me,” Jim says. “That was Sulu’s terrible idea. Which wouldn’t even have worked, since I’d already told them about my husband.”

“Ah, I still think we could’ve pulled it off,” Sulu says. “And we could’ve pretended she was pregnant or something, really hit all the right notes. What, like they’re gonna pull out a tricorder to check?”

“I don’t know, I think they were really feeling this,” Aaronson says with a grin, gesturing between Jim and Leonard. “It kind of works, you know? The grouchy, stoic silent type and the bossy, overbearing chatterbox – no offense, sir.”

“None taken,” says Jim.

“Speak for yourself,” says Leonard, glaring at Jim before turning it on Aaronson, who has the nerve to laugh.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You remind me of my parents. You know, if my parents were Starfleet officers instead of frail elderly Brooklynites whose idea of adventure is an extra half-glass of wine with dinner.”

“Am I your mom?” Jim asks. “I bet I’m your mom. That explains a lot about you, by the way, Lieutenant.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment, sir.”

“You should.” Jim abruptly cocks his head to the side, like a curious dog. “All right, break time’s over, folks. Sounds like they’re finishing up in there.”

Sure enough, if Leonard strains to listen over the shrill chorus of cricketsong starting to rise from the surrounding fields, he can just make out a low buzz of activity coming from inside the audience hall: the creak of wood scraping over stone, the indecipherable murmur of conversation. How Jim heard it is a medical mystery. He ought to be stone deaf from all the explosions and teeth-jarring music he subjects his ears to, but the man’s got uncommonly keen hearing – when he chooses to, anyway.

Jim reaches out to reclaim Leonard’s hand, slotting their fingers together again like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “C’mere, sugar plum – sorry, sorry, Leonard. I forgot.” He smirks in response to Leonard’s scowl, entirely unrepentant.

Sulu pats Leonard’s shoulder in a show of sympathy, probably more to needle Jim than anything. “Hang in there, Doc. Just remember, you get to cut the knot as soon as we’re done here. I’ll throw you a divorce party and everything.” He lowers his voice and adds, with a significant raise of his eyebrows, “And, hey, if you need help hiding the body…”

“You know, Demora would be just devastated to find out her dad was a heartless monster reveling in the downfall of true love,” Jim says in a warning tone.

“Low blow using my kid against me, sir,” Sulu reproaches him. “You’re a family man now. You should know loved ones are off limits.”

“You literally just offered to help my husband murder me. Which definitely counts as conspiracy to mutiny, by the way. You’re demoted.”

“Yeah, right. Who’s gonna fly that thing – you? You can’t even dock her without scraping the hull.”

“Seriously, you have got to let that go,” Jim says. “It was one time, and we were on fire. Forgive me if I was a little distracted.”

Some days Leonard honestly can’t believe these people are the best Starfleet has to offer. “Are you two toddlers about done, or am I going to have to ask the Mother to find a quiet place to put you down for a nap?”

“I’m done if he is,” Sulu says. Real mature.

“Yeah, we’re done.” Jim sidles a bit closer to Leonard, nudging their shoulders together. “You’re not really going to kill me, are you, Bones?”

Bones. Against his will, not to mention his better judgment, Leonard feels himself softening. He looks at Jim, crowded up in his space and watching him with those pretty twilight eyes, mouth tilted into another crooked smile. Jim Kirk, his troublesome stray – domesticated now, but far from tame, still running roughshod over him and dragging him into all manner of idiocy, secure in the knowledge that he’ll be forgiven just about anything.

When it comes right down to it, Leonard’s the biggest sucker of them all, really. Ten years he’s had to build up a resistance to Jim’s tricks, and if anything, he’s only grown more susceptible. As his mama used to say, if there were a contest for hopeless cases, he’d take the prize.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he tells Jim. “I’m weighing my options.”

Jim adjusts his hold on Leonard’s hand, tightening up the weave of their fingers. “Well, let me know what you decide,” he says amiably, and leans in to press another soft, smiling kiss to Leonard’s cheek just as the doors of the audience hall creak open.

[Chapter 3]

#mckirk #mckirk fic #fireinmywoods fic #idk what's up with the desktop site but i promise the formatting is normal if you click through!#star trek #aos #otp: bedside manner #kirk #mccoy

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