Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. I own nothing interesting. All I've got is my bones, must be why I like McCoy so much.
AN: Apparently I am incapable of writing a one shot for these two. But this Kirk wanted to get his hands on his McCoy, and who am I to say no to Kirk?
Where I Used to Have a Heart
Kirk allowed McCoy a few days to become comfortable in his new role. He allowed a few interrogations, and even an execution to go by without McCoy's presence. He approved without modification the supply list that McCoy forwarded him. And then after a few days passed, Kirk invited him to dine with him. He smiled with the carefully worded deferral arrived, citing an inability to get away from his duties.
Another invitation was issued, another was refused, and Kirk began to plot. He began to make McCoy aware of his presence in a multitude of small ways. A bottle of fine bourbon in his quarters, a favorite nurse excused from an interrogation session, but still no response from the good doctor. Finally, in a moment of characteristic boldness, he waited until McCoy was scheduled for surgery, and set up a meal in his office. He knew that McCoy always returned to his office after he completed an operation, so that he could make the appropriate annotations to the patients chart.
The look of surprise on McCoy's face as he entered his office was priceless, and only an inkling of the unsettledness that McCoy surely felt showed in his eyes. "Something that I can do for you, Captain?"
"I've invited you to join me for a meal so that we could become better acquainted. Since it seems that you can't get away from your post, I decided to come to you. I'm sure you must be hungry, that was a long work day." He resisted the urge to smirk as McCoy seemed to be momentarily rendered speechless. "Make no mistake, Doctor, your dedication to your duties pleases me. But a man has needs, and I know for a fact you haven't eaten in more than 12 hours. So, go make the annotations to your patient's chart if you must, but then you will be having dinner with me."
"Yes, sir." McCoy sat behind his desk, and entered the updates to his patient's chart while attempting to surreptitiously determine Kirk's mood. After McCoy finished making his notations, he turned back to Kirk and the meal that was arranged on his desk. Kirk smiled pleasantly, and McCoy was at a loss. His former captain had never fed him before he'd fucked him, and Kirk seemed to genuinely want to talk to him.
Kirk removed the temperature control dome from his plate and gave it a quick scan before spreading his napkin over his lap, and picking up his fork. "So tell me, Doctor McCoy, are you finding the ship a bit more hospitable now that you've been removed from the duties that you found so unpleasant?"
"Yes, thank you sir." McCoy felt unease creep down his spine at the question, had the time come to pay for this favor?
Kirk raised an eyebrow at the formality of the answer, he knew that something much more satisfying than sycophantic drivel resided in the good doctor, he just had to tease it out. "You got an authority fetish, McCoy?"
"We're in your office, alone and neither of us are on duty. My name is Jim, feel free to use it." Kirk hid his smile behind his wineglass as he could see McCoy visibly resisting the urge to stare at him in abject confusion. Kirk knew he wasn't following the script that McCoy had for a captain, not at all. He seldom did, which was what had bought him one of the rarest things in the empire. Loyalty.
James T. Kirk, despite all rumors to the contrary didn't rule his ship with an iron fist. Instead he took the best and brightest from other ships, people who were used to being humiliated, tormented, and tortured. Then once they were on his ship, he offered them a speck of kindness, filled whatever need they had. And the fiercest amongst them was tamed. Not, mind you, that Kirk was indulgent of misbehavior on his ship. Enough new crewmen failed to bow to the kinder treatment, and were dispatched as unfortunate wastes of talent.
The kill rate was high enough that he didn't draw undue attention from Starfleet, and it left no doubt in any of the crewmember's minds that if Kirk was kind to you it was because he wanted to be. He intended to be very kind to the good doctor, and was expecting fine results for his trouble.
"Surely after such a long shift you must be hungry, McCoy. Dig in, I trust that we're both capable of being civil over dinner, there's no need to stand on ceremony."
McCoy took the dome off of his meal, and picked up his fork, still trying to process what exactly was going on here. He began eating if for no other reason to have something to do with his hands so he wouldn't fidget. He noticed that the food was surprisingly good, and that Kirk had seemingly better than average aim at figuring out what he liked. "There now, much better. And now I know you're a gambling man, didn't even bother to scan it, not a practice that I'd recommend for longevity."
"I think it's a fairly safe assumption that if you wanted me dead, I would be. And poison is your method of last resort when discretion must be maintained, as a rule you prefer a more hands on approach."
Kirk nodded to concede the point, surprised that the doctor had been able to discern that during his brief tenure on his ship. Though it made sense, victims were normally very good at determining where threats lay. "True enough, should I ever have need to kill you, it won't be anything as cowardly as poison. But I can't vouch for the rest of the ship, you are of course in an enviable position after all."
McCoy snorted and smirked, leaving Kirk to wonder just what secrets he held. "My staff knows better. I've taken appropriate measures to ensure that they understand moving against me would be a very foolish idea."
"I'm sure they are well aware, but what about the rest of the ship?"
At this thinly veiled warning McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Why would anyone in the non-medical tracks give a damn about me?"
"Old grudges, favors for people on other ships, the fact that it's been quite a while since I've courted anyone." Kirk smiled as the comment finally broke through the doctor's wall of calm indifference and drew the expected response.
"Courting?" McCoy sputtered. "Since when have we been courting?"
"Since the moment you said yes to the offer of a drink in my quarters. I said I wouldn't force you into my bed. I never said that I didn't think that you'd end up there eventually." Kirk smiled, then reached over and trailed his fingers along the back of McCoy's hand, only to remove them when he felt McCoy's unconscious flinch. "And unlike with your former Captain, you'll enjoy it."
"You seem pretty sure about that?" The assumption in Kirk's voice grated on his nerves. He may have endured his former captain's advances, but he'd never once enjoyed them.
"Oh, I'm absolutely certain of it, Doctor McCoy. But that's a ways down the road yet." He trailed his fingers over the rim of the wine glass and looked at McCoy almost coyly. "You'll find McCoy that freedom of choice, and a partner that actually gives a damn if you get something out of the deal makes a great deal of difference."
"Ever occur to you that I'm not into men?" McCoy questioned sharply.
"I enjoy a challenge." Kirk smiled and sat back in his seat. "But as I said, that's a matter for another day. For now, why don't we start with getting to know each other a little better? At the moment I know that you like good bourbon, had a divorce messy enough that you enlisted in Starfleet, and are damn talented with a scalpel. Surely there's a whole lot more to you than that."
"Maybe, but I can't see why you're so damn interested. Not like you don't have access to everything that Starfleet knows about me and then some already."
Kirk shrugged acknowledging the point. "Well, I suppose that I could just read your file. But I'd much rather hear about it from you. After all, stories are always so much more interesting coming from their source."
"All due respect, sir. I'm a doctor, not Scheherazade. Why don't you find someone who likes you a lot better than I do to tell you a bed time story?"
Kirk raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, McCoy, you have quite a flair for the melodramatic don't you? I'm hardly threatening your life at dawn. Suit yourself. You're an enigma, and in a place where so many around me are wholly transparent, you intrigue me. But if it makes you feel better, keep your secrets for now."
Kirk leaned closer with a conspiratial grin. "Might want to reconsider though, things didn't turn out half bad for Scheherazade. She did end up queen if I'm not mistaken."
"Nice consolation prize for only being kept alive because she was momentarily interesting."
"1,001 nights is hardly momentary, McCoy. And who knows what can happen in that amount of time?" Kirk leaned back in his chair and looked over at McCoy considering for a moment. "Since you don't seem to be in a very talkative mood tonight, and we've finished dinner, I'll leave you to resume your seemingly maudlin thoughts."
Kirk stood, and McCoy resisted the urge to back away as Kirk leaned against his desk and invaded his personal space with a single finger that trailed along his jaw and brushed faintly over his lips. The playful glint in Kirk's eyes made him wary, and he realized that his reticence had only served to increase Kirk's interest in him. "Don't think this means that I'm giving up though, who knows maybe next time you'll have a story for me."
McCoy managed to wait until the door closed behind Kirk before he started shaking. What had he gotten himself into? His former captain had been fairly straightforward, and while he'd never enjoyed their interactions, they were at least predictable. Kirk on the other hand seemed to want far more from him. But then, he'd given McCoy far more already than he'd ever had elsewhere.
McCoy retreated to his quarters, poured himself a three finger shot of bourbon, and proceeded to attempt to put the whole thing out of his mind. He failed miserably of course, as his mind kept supplying images of Kirk's hungry gaze, and the almost electrifying warmth that accompanied his faint touches. Sleep when it came was fragmented and his dreams were filled with images of Kirk holding a scimitar in an Arabian tent. As McCoy was jolted from his sleep by the piercing alarm that announced the need for his presence in Med Bay, he cursed under his breath. Kirk may not have touched him yet, but there was no denying that he was royally fucked.
AN: Greetings readers! I would apologize for the length of time between updates, but Kirk assures me that apologies are a sign of weakness (he's working on me being less of a doormat). He will allow me to say, however, that we hope you enjoyed reading, and that we look forward to hearing from you all soon. I should have updates up for Through A Mirror Darkly and Bought and Paid For uploaded soon. As always reviews are greatly appreciated.
Next up: McCoy is both flattered and frightened by the intensity of Kirk's attentions.