Title: Overboard (remix) 1/6
Characters/pairings: Jim/Bones, with appearances of Spock, Gary Mitchell, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov and Winona. Passing mentions of Rand, Chapel, Uhura, and Riley.
Word count: 34,000+ (I just can't write short fics!)
Summary: James Kirk is a wealthy man with everything he could ever want, except maybe a partner he could love. Leonard McCoy is a bitter divorcee with three boys to raise living in the ass-end of Georgia. When James refuses to pay Leonard for services rendered Leonard is understandably upset. When James loses his memory and accidentally wanders back into Leonard's life, Leonard decides to take advantage of the situation. Who knew that they'd fit so well together?
Warnings: From the title this is obviously based off of the 1987 classic rom-com starring Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. Whether I actually stayed true to the rom-com aspect is up to you. And while there is a boat and Jim does fall off of it, I did find that it is much harder to suspend disbelief with a crazy plot in a movie rather than in a fic – I had to somehow try to make the whole thing realistic, at least to my mind. Whether I did or not is up to you, the reader.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was. Never will be. I don't own or have anything to do with Star Trek, Overboard, Chris Pine, Karl Urban, J.J. Abrams, Garry Marshall, Goldie Hawn or Kurt Russell. And I'm definitely not making any money.
Author's Notes: This fic was inspired by the Reel Love Challenge over at the Jim and Bones Livejournal. It popped up on New Years Day and took over my life for a week. I think it's the fastest I've ever written a fic of this length, but it just would not leave me alone until I had finished it. Waiting to post killed me.
Thanks go to Caitri who was kind enough to take time to beta read for me.
Thanks to my usual beta reader – Royalpinkdogs – who is very old school and is very opposed to the slashing of her favorite characters, but who took the time to read this over despite those facts. Thanks J!
And also to my daughter, Roughdiamond5, who also read over this and offered her feedback and put up with my comma splices.
Leonard groused under his breath as he once more looked at the directions he had scrawled on the back of his prescription pad. Only two weeks in this godforsaken excuse for a backwater Georgia town and he hadn't even known that it had something that could pass for a 'waterfront.' What the hell was a boat doing this far north? Was the owner some kind of idiot?
Still the bastard was willing to pay top dollar for a 'house call' so Leonard figured it was best to put on his polite smile and go take the fool's money.
He was less than impressed by the town's 'waterfront,' seeing that it consisted of two rickety looking docks that had seen better days, a boat launch and a marina with only three boats bobbing in the water. He wanted to laugh. His patient's boat wasn't hard to miss at least. It was easily twenty, maybe even twenty-five feet, long; a sleek three story motor boat. What it was doing here, was beyond Leonard. If it wasn't for the plentiful snowfall and rainfall over the winter and the almost flood conditions of the lake and river systems, he doubted that it would have made it this far upstream any other year.
From the thumping music he heard emanating from the boat and the bikini clad females he saw sunbathing on the top, he was positive that the owner was young, male and an idiot. Parking his old truck, Leonard grabbed his medical kit and approached the dock, looking with a jaundiced eye as he tread over the worn and decaying boards. He was not going to be happy if he fell into the river, it was ass cold anytime of year, besides there was no telling what disease ridden dangers were in there.
"Uh, hello?" he called up to where he could hear the music playing; something loud with a lots of bass. Techno crap. There was no response, which wasn't very surprising considering the volume. Gingerly he began walking up the plank leading to the entry level. "Hello?" he called again, when he finally climbed on board.
"Yez?" a head popped out from the lower stairwell.
"I'm Dr. McCoy," Leonard said with relief. "I'm here to see…" he glanced down at his scribbled notes, "uh…James Kirk."
The head nodded and then a finger came out, pointing towards the ceiling. "De capt'n iz up," the man said before disappearing below.
From the wonderful smells coming from that direction, Leonard hazarded a guess that the man was cooking. Looking around, he easily spotted the steep steps that would take him to the upper deck and all the noise. He didn't particularly care for boats, but at least this one was stationary, he thought as he began to climb. When he reached the top the scene that greeted him made him pause in his tracks, the smell of cocoa butter hitting him like a slap to the face.
There were four girls – he just couldn't call them women – in various states of undress spread around on top of the boat. The two without tops were laid out sunbathing, which was just asking for trouble in Leonard's opinion, and the other two were dancing, each holding a champagne flute as they circled each other sinuously to the music. These two were at least fully clothed, or, rather, covered in the necessary places by skimpy bikinis that really amounted to a few strategically placed strings. There was a dark-haired male lounging on the padded seating area that took up one side of boat. He was watching the girls' performance with a snifter of dark liquid in his hand, one knee raised as he leaned on his elbow, a smirk on his face.
The other man, a blond, had his feet up on the ship's dashboard and was reading a PADD, ignoring the performance going on two feet behind him.
Taking the last few steps to get all the way up, Leonard stood there for a moment then cleared his throat. The pumping sound of the music easily drowned him out.
"Hello," Leonard called out, pitching his voice above the bass.
The dark-haired man languorously turned his head and looked Leonard over from head to toe. "Hey man," he grinned, taking a sip of his drink. "Here to join the party?"
Trying not to roll his eyes, Leonard shook his head. "I'm Dr. McCoy," he stated. "I was called out here to meet with James Kirk."
"Cool," the other man nodded, his eyes going back to the girls.
Leonard was about to ask where this Kirk character was, when one of the women detached herself from her dance partner and sashayed over to the blond man. "James," she sing-songed, running a hand through his hair and in the process pulling out an ear bud that had been lodged tightly in his ear. "Jaaaammmmessss," she repeated, moving to sit in his lap.
"What do you want, Candice?" the man asked, his tone sounding put upon, though his hands were caressing the skin of her hips and legs.
"I'm Mallory," she pouted prettily at him, one hand running up his chest and behind his neck.
"What do you want, Mallory?" this James repeated, stopping her hand from going further.
"You have a visitor," she told him mock-seriously, in a way that only a drunk person can. Leaning forward she placed her lips against his ear and grinned, her eyes on Leonard. "A doctor," she whispered. "A very pretty one, too," she added with a giggle. "Can he join us?"
James turned his head and looked over at Leonard. Whatever he saw made him smirk. "I doubt it," he told the girl as he stood up and set her on her feet. "I don't think he's interested in your kind of party."
Leaning against the dashboard, she pouted at Leonard as she took a sip of her drink. "Pity."
Setting his PADD and ear buds on the seat, Leonard had a chance to look over his soon-to-be patient and he had to admit that he liked what he saw. Kirk was barefoot, wearing a loose pair of linen pants rolled up to mid calf and a loose, unbuttoned white shirt. What skin he could see was smooth and pale, with definite muscle definition of his chest and abdominals. The kid might be a playboy, but he took care of himself too.
"Ready, doc?" the kid asked with a sly smile, obviously having caught Leonard's blatant once over. To his credit, the kid didn't preen, just looked at him, raising his sunglasses onto the top of his head and revealing the most stunning pair of blue eyes Leonard had ever seen.
Scowling at the kid's knowing look, Leonard gripped his bag tightly. "Whenever you are, Mr. Kirk, though I suggest some place a bit more private."
The kid's eyebrow shot up at that, and his smirk widened. Leonard could have kicked himself. "Private is good," Kirk agreed, striding across the deck like a panther, then passing by Leonard, their clothes barely brushing. "Follow me, doc," he said as he started down the stairwell.
"Have fun, James," the other man called after them with a laugh, causing Leonard to blush and frown.
Leonard followed Kirk down two small stairwells, through a well appointed galley that smelled delicious, down a short hallway, and into a surprisingly large bedroom with a king size bed.
Looking around in appreciation, who knew there was this much room in a boat? Leonard forced himself to turn his attention to his patient. "What seems to be…Holy shit!"
Standing in front of him, with his pants around his ankles and hands on his hips, Kirk was grinning manically. "Impressed, doc?" he smirked. "That wasn't exactly the response I expected from a doctor, you know? Thought you'd seen it all, and all that."
Forcing his eyes away from Kirk's display, Leonard made himself look directly into Kirk's eyes and not blush. "Well, I'm not used to my patients dropping their pants without a how do you do," he growled. This kid obviously had a big ego. It was surprising the damn boat wasn't listing.
"Well, how'd ya do, doc?" Kirk grinned, kicking off his pants, not the least bit embarrassed by his nakedness. "Never seen anything like it, huh? Didn't mean to embarrass you. It is rather big," he stated, reaching down and tugging slightly. He tried to look causal, but Leonard caught the slight flinch as he moved his hand away.
"I've seen bigger," Leonard told him drily, not impressed by the kid's preening. In truth, he probably had seen bigger, not that he measured his partners. Before settling down with Joss, he'd made quite a few conquests of the female and male persuasion, so he was intimately familiar with the male genitalia outside of a clinical setting, but none of his partners had a set of cock and balls quiet as attractive as James Kirk's. He wasn't particularly interested in size, feeling the person attached to it was more important than the length and breadth of the cock, but even flaccid Kirk was a decently proportioned six inches, maybe more, with a cut, pink glans and low hanging, hairless balls. Professionally, if he had to guess, he would say that Kirk was easily in the ninetieth percentile for cock size.
"I'm sure you have," Kirk smirked at him as he reclined back onto his elbows on the bed, his blue eyes not leaving Leonard's face.
"Of course the ones I've seen aren't in danger of rotting off because of a STI," Leonard stated, happy to see the smirk fall off Kirk's face for a moment.
"Well, that seems to be a problem with being popular," Kirk rallied almost instantly.
"And stupid," Leonard countered, putting his bag on one of the low dressers and reaching for a pair of gloves and his tricorder. "How long have you had these symptoms?" he asked, switching immediately into doctor mode, noting the slightly raised splotches of color along the length of Kirk's penis, as well as the discoloration around its head.
"A couple days," Kirk admitted, watching with interest as Leonard scanned his cock, using one finger to lift it and expose the underside for further scanning.
"And how long have the lovely Mallory and her friends been visiting?" Leonard asked sarcastically, frowning at the read outs.
Kirk's smirk widened. "About a week."
"I see," Leonard responded wryly, rolling his eyes. "Well, you're in luck. It's treatable. Your cock's not going to rot off, but I would advise using a nano barrier as well as a sperm suppressant. You are using some kind of birth control, right?" he asked with some concern.
"Of course, doc," Kirk said with not a little scorn. "No way I want any little Kirks running around any time soon – or ever," he said, his tone rather more dark than Leonard expected. "I'm not stupid."
"Yet you've been infected with a STI that is easily avoided with proper caution and protection," Leonard pointed out with barely concealed scorn. Reaching into his bag and looking through his hypospray vials he searched for a broad spectrum antibiotic and an STI blocker. "You allergic to anything, kid?" he asked.
Kirk shrugged, his eyes warily on the hypospray in Leonard's hand. "I don't really like those, I prefer pills, if you have them."
"I don't," Leonard said, "and it would take two weeks of pills to treat this, which would put your dick out of commission for at least that long, something I don't think you'd want," he stated, his eyebrow raised condescendingly.
"Not really," Kirk grinned at him, his blue eyes twinkling. "I'd hate to disappoint any of my partners – male or female."
"I'm sure, kid," Leonard shook his head in exasperation at the thinly veiled come-on. Without warning, he reached out and depressed the hypo into Kirk's neck, suppressing a grin at the squawk of surprise the other man made. "Don't be such an infant." Turning away, he began to rustle through his kit once more. He probably had enough antibiotic to dose everyone on this damn boat – six of them, if he counted the cook, just to be safe. "How many people you got on board this thing, kid?" he asked over his shoulder.
There was no response except for a choked off cough and a wheeze.
"What's your problem…" he started to say as he turned around and his eyes widened. Kirk was bright red and splotchy, his hands at his throat as if to loosen his nonexistent collar. "Oh fuck," Leonard almost yelled, reaching into his kit for another hypospray, praying the kid wasn't allergic to this too. Slamming it into Kirk's thigh, he was relieved to see the redness fade and the kid's breathing ease immediately. "What the hell, kid!" he started to rant. "I asked you if you were allergic to anything and you said no!" He helped Kirk move up to the head of the bed and pulled the sheets out from under him and then covered him up to his waist as he lay panting and pale on the pillows.
"I said I didn't like hyposprays," Kirk wheezed lightly.
"Well, not liking them and being allergic to them are two different things, you goddamn idiot," Leonard growled as he ran the tricorder over Kirk one more time. The inflammation was gone, and the antibiotic had taken affect, already working on the STI. He wasn't going to have to get the kid any pills to take care of it at least. He must have had a reaction to something in the spray, a binder or other incidental ingredient. "Look, I have to go dose the rest of the fools on this boat," he told the other man, whose eyes were already at half mast. "You rest and I'll check on you in a half hour, the recovery med I gave you is going to make you sleepy for a while."
"You've got some bedside manner, doc," Kirk slurred, one corner of his mouth lifting ironically. "You sure this is the right job for you?"
"I'm a doctor right down to my bones, kid," Leonard told him; using his thumb to lift each of Kirk's eyelids to check his pupils. "I just don't like dealing with idiots."
"Notta id'it," Kirk tried to respond, but he was already asleep.
Leonard just shook his head slowly as he pulled the covers up further onto Kirk's chest. "Seems to me you are a Class A Idiot, kid," he said softly. "A pretty one, but still an idiot."
Three hours later, Leonard was still on the damn boat, his head aching in time with the thumping music from above deck. He'd had no trouble dosing the other occupants on board, except for the Vulcan who had magically appeared as he had exited Kirk's bedroom. Taking in the stiff posture and forbidding look, Leonard had figured that it was a long shot that Kirk would even try to sleep with the man. The others were easy. After trying to explain the situation over the nonstop music, he had just fallen back on his I'm-a-doctor-so-don't-mess-with-me rant. Luckily no one else had had a reaction, but that still left him here, sitting in an uncomfortable dining chair that he had dragged into the bedroom while waiting for Kirk to wake up.
To keep himself busy he'd itemized his bill, figuring he'd split the difference with Kirk in regards to the amount of time he'd had to sit around and wait for the idiot to wake up. After that he worked on a crossword puzzle he had saved on his PADD.
"Five letter word for rapscallion," he muttered to himself, tapping the stylus against his lips.
"Rogue," Kirk's voice piped up sleepily, startling Leonard into dropping the stylus.
"What?" he asked, frowning down at the stylus, he bent forward to pick it up.
"Five letter word for rapscallion," Kirk repeated, turning his head so that late afternoon sun caught his eyes and made them almost glow. "Rogue, as in hooligan, scalawag, scamp…rapscallion. I suppose scamp could work too," he shrugged. "But rogue came to mind first."
Looking down at his PADD, Leonard typed it in. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, one eyebrow rising in surprise.
"See, I'm not an idiot," Kirk told him, while levering himself up to lean against the headboard. "What the hell did you hit me with, Bones?" he asked crankily, rubbing at his temples.
Leonard looked at the kid in confusion, before reaching for his tricorder. He stood up and began scanning. "You feeling all right, kid?"
"I'm fine," Kirk waved away the tricorder, glaring weakly. "Just a massive hangover headache and a sore neck and thigh where you stabbed me with your damn weapons."
"They aren't weapons, they're hyposprays, and if you would have told me that you're allergic," Leonard started to work up to another tirade.
"I didn't know," Kirk snapped angrily. "I've always taken pills."
"So who's this 'Bones', then?" Leonard asked, setting down the tricorder and reaching for Kirk's head, tilting it so he could get a good look in the kid's eyes. They looked clear and focused, but there was no telling what the allergic reaction might have triggered.
"You are," Kirk grinned slyly at him, seeming to find some humor in the situation. "I'm a doctor down to my bones," he quoted in a horrible attempt at a southern drawl.
Leonard frowned. "Your accent is terrible," he told Kirk. Giving him a quick once over, he shrugged. "I guess you're fine. You should probably let your doctor know about your allergy to the hypospray, but other than that, I'm done here." Tossing his PADD onto Kirk's lap, Leonard crossed his arms and looked down at his patient. "There's your total. I take cash or credit transfers. I do not bill."
Picking it up, Kirk frowned. "No way," he said incredulously. "I did not pay you to hypospray everyone else on this ship. You were only supposed to see me. And I am certainly not paying for your time while you waited for me to wake up because you and your happy hypospray caused an allergic reaction that made me almost stop breathing!"
Leonard was stunned silent, if only for a moment. "Now you see here kid," he began, shaking his finger like his mama used to do to him when he was being contrary. "First of all, if I didn't dose everyone else on this damn boat, you'd just get infected again. Someone had to be the carrier and if y'all are participating in some sort of Goddamn bacchanal then it was the only thing to do. And secondly," he continued before Kirk could speak, "if you would have told me you were allergic then I would have given you something different that wouldn't have caused a reaction, so that's your own damn fault. Besides, I only charged you for an extra hour rather than the actual two and a half I waited. And I didn't even charge for the fact that I had to deal with your enormous ego and blatant exhibitionism," he finished, breathing heavily.
Kirk sat in bed, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dark. "No," he said definitively. "I will not pay for the extras. In fact, I'm not paying for anything," he stated, tossing the PADD at Leonard with a dismissive nod, looking down his nose at Leonard imperiously. "Your patient care was poor at best; substandard, even. I will not pay for such treatment."
"Now, wait just a minute," Leonard began, his chest puffing up with indignation.
"Spock?" Kirk called out.
Before Leonard could say another word the Vulcan was standing in the doorway, his face impassive as he looked at Kirk.
"Please escort the doctor off this boat," Kirk said, his voice sounding pompous and arrogant.
"Yes, sir," Spock nodded slightly. "Doctor, if you will please follow me."
"I will not," Leonard declared crossly before turning to face Kirk. "You spoiled, stuck up, arrogant little…"
And then the world went blank. The next thing Leonard knew it was near dusk and he was lying face down on the sorry excuse for a dock, his neck and shoulder stiff and sorer than he'd ever felt before.
"Goddamn it," he muttered as he rolled over, bringing one hand to cover his eyes as his head started to throb. Absently he registered a splash in his vicinity, but didn't pay it much mind as he felt like he had the mother of all hangovers. It was only when he leaned over the side of the dock to throw up that he saw his medical kit floating in the water just out of arms reach. "Well, hell," he moaned after he managed to keep the contents of his stomach actually in his stomach. His daddy had given him that bag. There was no way he was just going to let it float away.
It was a wet, sore and pissed off Leonard McCoy who arrived at his ramshackle house to find the babysitter tied up on the porch with duct tape, her eyes wide and furious, the boys nowhere in sight.
"Dr. McCoy," she said shrilly as soon as he removed the tape from her mouth, "I fear that I must submit my resignation as your nanny – effective immediately."
"Now Janice," Leonard tried to say soothingly, after all this would be the third time she'd quit in the last two weeks. Gently he went about removing the tape from around her torso. "The boys were just…"
"They're demons, Dr. McCoy," she spat out, leaning forward to undo her ankles, "and I refuse to watch them anymore. I don't care how much you pay me," she snapped, cutting off Leonard's customary offer of more money. "I quit. I wish I could say I'm sorry for the late notice, but I'm not." With that, she grabbed her purse, conveniently left on the porch step next to her, and marched to her car. She squealed briefly as she sat on something, and then threw a pinecone out the window. Without another look she sped off down the driveway and away from the McCoy home – and its demon children.
With a sigh, McCoy squelched into the house, leaving his soaking shoes on the front porch. At least tomorrow was Sunday and he wouldn't have to go into the office unless there was an emergency.
"Boys!" he called, knowing they weren't far away. Sure enough, twelve year-old Monty's head popped up from behind the couch, eight year-old Hikaru appeared from the kitchen and five year-old Pavel unearthed himself from a pile of clothes under the dinning table. Seeing their seemingly innocent little faces looking up at him expectantly, Leonard just sighed and shook his head. "I'm going to go change my clothes, then we can have dinner. What do you want?" he asked tiredly.
"Mac 'n cheese," little Pavel piped up immediately.
"A sandwich would be fine with me," Monty told him.
"I can make a salad," Hikaru offered with a small smile.
"Fine, fine," Leonard responded as he made his way to his bedroom. "Hikaru, you start on the salad. Monty, Pavel, clean off the table and set it. I'll make mac and cheese and some sandwiches in a minute."
It wasn't really what he had dreamed of, but at least he had someone to come home to.
His plan after completing medical school at Ole Miss had been to return to Atlanta, go into practice with his father and live out his days as a quiet country doctor with a wife, kids and a house with a white picket fence, all the while taking on research projects in his spare time.
He'd gotten the wife and the house, the blasted money pit that Jocelyn just had to have, but the boys, her three 'little angels,' as she liked to call them when they were entertaining company, were all Joss's idea. They'd taken them in after their parents, friends of Joss's through the country club, had been killed in a shuttle crash and no other relatives had stepped forward.
He'd been sympathetic to their plight, and they could be extremely charming when they wanted to be, so he'd agreed. Joss's stock had risen immediately in her club and she'd enjoyed playing mama to the boys for the most part, but not enough to take them with her when she'd left him for Clay Treadway, the local district attorney and her old high school boyfriend, shortly after Leonard's father had died after a long and debilitating sickness.
No, she hadn't wanted the boys, but she had wanted the house and everything in it, all his money and, as a bonus, his medical license, because damn it if she didn't postulate to just about everyone in town that he'd outright killed his own father to get the family practice.
He hadn't killed his father, not outright and not out of spite or of want of his medical practice, but he had eased the man's passing at his own request. Leonard had tried to tell himself that he was just being a good son and doing what his father asked, but it hadn't helped. He'd crawled into a bottle after his father's death and not come out until he was faced with divorce papers, an eviction notice and three pairs of little eyes – hazel, brown and blue – staring at him in confusion and worry.
Cleaning himself up, he'd made a deal with Treadway to give up everything in the divorce if they'd leave his medical license alone. They'd agreed, as long as he promised to leave the Atlanta area. Leonard had immediately agreed, figuring it was a small price to pay and not wanting to be reminded of his father every time he turned a corner. He hadn't been quite ready to leave Georgia just yet, so he'd used what money he had to buy a small practice in Bumfuck, Georgia at the ass end of Lake Lanier where he could take care of the locals and raise the boys free of pointed glares and pitying looks.
And as a bonus he got to deal with ass-holes like James Kirk, the high society type that he'd thought he left behind in Atlanta. Life just wasn't fair sometimes.