Title: Soften This Old Armor
Rating: R
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 5,510
Warnings: Reaper!Bones, Doom's faulty science, vague descriptions of torture
Summary: For this prompt at buckleup_meme, the hc_bingo prompt spinal injury, and the au_abc prompt Mutants - John Grimm spent his life trying to kill himself; Leonard McCoy finally succeeds.

+++

The screech of sliding metal rouses Jim from his fitful sleep. He has no idea how long it's been since they brought him back to the cell, but he doesn't feel anywhere near strong enough to go another round.

"Goddamn it," he can hear Bones saying, spitting the words between his teeth. "Haven't you assholes had enough? Leave him alone!"

Jim can't stifle the pained groan as one grabs him by the arm and tries to yank Jim to his feet. The broken ends of his radius slide against each other, the feeling bringing tears to his eyes.

He hears the scuffle of footsteps then a meaty sound of flesh on flesh before he's falling back to the ground, clutching his broken arm against his chest as Jim lands on his other side. Bones had hit the guard, he realizes, forcing his eyes open to see two of their captors trying to restrain Bones' arms as he tries to get to the third, the one that's closest to Jim.

He knows he should stand, help Bones fight against them, but he's too sore and too tired from being dragged out of the cell only to be forced onto the fine line between life and death. The third is reaching for him again, and Bones surges forward, managing to twist free before he's grabbed again, and this time they kick Bones' knees out from under him, forcing him down.

"Leave him alone," Bones repeats, the defiant look in his eyes not enough to bolster Jim's strength from where he's curled in a ball on the damp floor. "Take me instead, you bastards."

The one standing over Jim seems to pause, like he can actually understand what Bones is saying and is processing the idea. Jim clenches his jaw, pushing up on his good arm.

"No, Bones, you can't."

"If they take you again, it'll kill you, Jim." His smile is an attempt at reassurance, but it looks too forced. "I'll be fine."

"Bones…" Jim's thought is cutoff by the alien standing over him, nodding at the ones restraining Bones and turning away from Jim. "Bones, no."

Bones is forced to his feet, his arms twisted behind his back. "You just rest, Jim, save your strength."

But the hairs on the backs of Jim's arms and neck are standing on ends. Something's not right. Jim struggles to get to his feet, but the muscles are still too weak from the last round where they'd electrocuted him over and over again, and the burns from where the wires had touched him stretch painfully, making his legs drop out from under him.

"It'll be okay," Bones says, his too-calm demeanor having the exact opposite effect on Jim, especially with the way the alien's posture has stiffened as he goes to stand in front of Bones.

"Bones, no!" Jim yells, his voice dry and hoarse, and for a moment their eyes lock across the cell as Jim tries to crawl himself over to them on his elbows, but he's too slow, too weak, and the alien's hands are on either side of Bones' head, jarring it sharply as a crack rings out.

The two who have been restraining him release Bones, throwing him towards Jim before they leave, and Jim doesn't even register the door being slammed shut as he uses all the strength he has left to get to Bones.

He doesn't even recognize the sound that comes out of his mouth at the lifelessness of Bones' eyes, at the unnatural way his head has slumped, neck broken.

Jim blankets Bones' body with his own, pressing his face into Bones' shoulder as his body shakes, choked gasps escaping his mouth. He doesn't have the energy to do anything else.

+

He sleeps.

His dreams are just as painful as his conscious world, haunted by the images of Bones being killed over and over again while he's useless, impotent, weak as a newborn and just as helpless.

But even the nightmares are easier being awake. Jim won't extricate himself from Bones' body, and being awake means he's all-too aware of the cooling of Bones' skin, of his stillness as he no longer breathes, the quiet since Jim can't hear Bones' heart beating anymore, despite having his head resting on his chest.

The aliens don't come back.

It's like all that time they'd been trying to figure out how to break him, and it hadn't been the torture that did it.

He wishes they'd just finish him off already, but they obviously know no mercy.

Jim sleeps, and he has no idea how much time passes. It all stopped mattering when he closed Bones' eyes.

+

"Jim? Come on, Jim, you need to wake up."

Jim smiles and presses his nose against the base of Bones' neck. He likes these dreams the best, so he tries to hold onto it before it slips between his fingers like handfuls of sand.

"Don't want to," he replies, pouting like a petulant child. "I want to stay here with you."

Bones huffs, and Jim's smile widens at the feel of it. "Because our accommodations are lovely, and our hosts have been so hospitable." Bones shifts, and Jim can feel the dream getting away from him. He wraps an arm across Bones' stomach, trying to hold on. "Come on, Jim, you gotta wake up. I hear phaser fire."

And Jim frowns, because he can hear it too, and the sinking in of the knowledge that it's part of the real world causes the dream to vanish like smoke.

Jim opens his eyes, wiping the wetness from his face. The sound of weapons firing is getting louder, and Jim knows he should shout, call out, let his crew know where he is because there's no way it's anyone else out there. But he hesitates, stays quiet, because he knows that this will be his last moment with Bones. His body will be brought back to the ship, they'll have the funeral, and then Jim will never be able to see him, be with him, again.

"Hey, in here!"

Jim's eyebrows draw together in confusion. He hadn't meant to fall back asleep, but he must have because Bones had been the one who called out, Bones who is holding him against his chest as he's sitting up, leaning against the wall. He doesn't know how long it's been since he's had food or water aside from licking the moisture off the floor and walls, so Jim thinks he must be hallucinating.

Sulu and Matthews appear in the doorway, the latter on point while the former punches a code in that has the cell door sliding open. "Captain. Doctor," Sulu greets with a cocky smirk, entering the cell to help Bones get Jim on his feet and carry him out. "Commander, we found them," he says into his communicator. "Medical would be wise to meet us in the transporter room with a gurney for the captain."

"Affirmative, Lieutenant. Exit the compound as quickly as possible for Mister Scott to beam you back to Enterprise. Spock out."

Jim's about to argue that he doesn't need a gurney and doesn't want to have his crew see him getting carried through the ship on one, but Bones seems to read his mind and cuts him off with a sharp glare. It's so familiar that it makes the pit of Jim's stomach feel warm, and he wants to argue with Bones, but he doesn't need Sulu and Matthews thinking that their captain has lost his mind.

He doesn't look back when they move out of the cell. Jim doesn't want to see that Bones' body is still in there, sprawled on the floor.

"How long's it been?" Jim asks.

"Ten days," Sulu responds, pausing at a bend in the corridor before Matthews signals that it's clear.

"That's all?" Bones asks, voicing what Jim is thinking. Which Jim supposes is accurate since Bones is a figment of his imagination right now.

"They had scrambled their warp trail, but Chekov was able to figure it out."

Jim catches the way Bones arches his eyebrow at how proud Sulu sounds, and it hurts Jim beyond all of his physical injuries. So many others, especially in Starfleet, have been prideful of Jim's accomplishments because they wanted partial credit for them, but Bones had always been proud of Jim for Jim.

There's a shot fired in their direction, and Jim gasps in pain as he hits the deck, trying to stay low and out of the line of fire. A few more shots are exchanged before Jim hears the dead weight sound of a body falling down, and then Matthews is calling for them, saying that it's safe to continue on.

It isn't much longer before they're outside and overwhelmed with the tingling sensation of being transported.

Spock is there along with a team from medical, including the damn gurney that Sulu's helping him onto. Jim barely registers Spock comming the bridge as he's too busy staring at Bones, who's trying to get a look at the readouts on the tricorders scanning over Jim.

"Bones," Jim says, just above a whisper, but it gets Bones' attention right away.

"I said it'd be okay, didn't I?" Bones responds, moving to stand close as he puts a hand on Jim's face.

It feels so warm, so real, that Jim has to squeeze his eyes shut. "Bones, I'm so sorry." Jim's voice catches in his throat. He needs to say it, though, say it now while he still thinks Bones is there and can hear him or he'll be burdened by the weight of it forever. "I love you, Bones," he says, and Jim opens his eyes because he needs to see Bones alive this last time. "Goodbye."

He doesn't miss the confusion written all over Bones' face as Jim's carried out of the transporter room to be brought to medbay.

+

Jim wakes up to the osteogenic stimulator strapped to his arm itching like hell. He reaches over to scratch it only to be stopped by a half-hearted, "Don't you even think about it." He turns his head and ends up jolting upright on the biobed in surprise. Bones is sitting near him on a stool, staring intently at a PADD in his hands. The monitor above him wails from detecting the sudden change of heart rate, but then Bones is reaching over him to quiet it.

"What the hell, Bones?" Jim hisses through his teeth. "Have I completely lost it? I'm still on that planet, aren't I? I'm dying in a puddle."

"What are you talking about?" Bones grabs a tricorder, using the wand to scan Jim's head with a furrowed brow, but Jim slaps the hand away.

"Why am I still hallucinating you?"

Bones pauses at the question, his voice low and calm. "Why do you think I'm a hallucination?"

Jim thinks this is him jumping to the anger stage of grief. "Oh, gee, Bones, I don't know. Maybe it's because you fucking died. That alien snapped your neck; I saw it happen."

Bones contemplates Jim quietly for a moment before activating the privacy screen. "You said goodbye because you thought I'd died."

Of all the things Jim doesn't like, it's being questioned he can't stand the most. "I didn't think you died, Bones. You were actually dead. And either I'm dying, insane with grief, or M'Benga gave me some really awesome painkillers since you're dead but you're here."

"Jim," Bones says, making his name a sigh as he wheels the stool closer to sit next to Jim. He reaches out to take Jim's hand, but Jim pulls it away before Bones can touch him. Bones leans across him and takes it anyway, his thumb running across Jim's knuckles. "I promise I'm not a hallucination. I'm right here. I can ask one of the nurses to get some ice cream for you, if you want."

Jim snorts at that. "The real, non-hallucination Bones would never have gotten me ice cream."

Bones smiles softly in response. "How about the next round of prophylactic vaccinations since you're due soon and I know you can't run away right now?"

"That sounds more like him," Jim agrees.

Chapel, who must have been standing on the other side of the screen waiting for a moment to interrupt, clears her throat lightly. "Leonard, the third round of treatment is over. Do you want me to…?"

"No, Christine, I got it. Thanks." Bones gives Jim a look that clearly says do you believe me now? as he lets go of Jim's hand to turn off and remove the osteogenic stimulator.

Jim eases himself backwards to lie down on the bed again, feeling confused but glad that he hasn't gone crazy and that Bones hadn't died. "You were dead, Bones."

"I know, Jim. I'm sorry."

"But I don't understand."

Bones reaches over to the instrument tray next to the biobed, picking up the PADD that he'd discarded when Jim had woken up. He looks at it with trepidation before handing it over to Jim. "This will explain everything," he says. "You're going to need time to finish healing and process all of it, so I'll stay out of your way. Come find me when you're ready."

He places a lingering kiss on Jim's forehead before deactivating the privacy screen and walking out of medbay.

Jim stares at the PADD in his hands for a long time, having no idea in the slightest what could be on it and what it'll all mean for him and Bones, but curiosity gets the better of him. He turns it on and starts reading the first file he sees.

+

Jim only puts the PADD down when Chapel threatens him with sedation if he doesn't get some rest.

He has a hard time falling asleep, though; his mind is reeling with the UAC and Olduvai, a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong and a Marine named John Grimm, codename Reaper.

Jim had gotten through all of the UAC documentation about Olduvai and had been working on reading through the life's work of Doctor Samantha Grimm when Chapel had started to threaten him with a hypospray.

He has a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knows where this story is going to end. Jim has yet to look at Reaper's RRTS file because he knows there's going to be a photo attached to it, and he's not sure if he's ready yet for his instincts to be confirmed.

+

His first shift back on light duty Jim is distracted, lost in thought as his mind drifts back to the PADD in his quarters. He didn't dare bring it to the bridge, even though he doubts anyone would question what he's reading. He just couldn't take the chance of anyone walking by and seeing the screen over his shoulder. Bones had trusted him with the information, and Jim isn't going to betray him. That much he knows and understands even though the rest of it still left him with lingering questions that only Bones himself will be able to answer.

Jim knows he needs to wait, though. He needs Bones to know that he's taking this seriously, and that means he can't barge in with a knee-jerk reaction. He needs to mull it over, let it stew.

The problem is that he really fucking misses Bones.

He'll give it another week, Jim thinks. That should be enough time to have deep thoughts, right?

Jim twirls in his chair, trying not to register the time on the view-screen, but shit, it's only been five minutes since he last looked at it?

He itches to comm medical or go down and visit, but that would mean he'd run into Bones. Jim also thinks about walking around the ship, maybe stopping in to visit engineering and the astronavigation lab, but he knows it's not good for crew morale to have the captain randomly dropping in. It makes them feel micromanaged, like they aren't trusted to do their jobs, and that's the last thing Jim wants his crew to think. Because they're the best crew ever. Especially his Chief Medical Officer.

Jim groans into the heel of his hand, which gets pretty much everyone on the bridge's immediate attention.

"Captain?" Spock asks, seeming concerned even though he's not giving off anymore emotion than usual. "Are you still in pain? I can comm Doctor-"

"I'm fine," Jim says, spinning to face his first officer and cutting him off with a forced grin. "This just isn't the most exciting part of space we've charted, you know?"

Uhura doesn't look like she's buying it, but Jim just thinks it demonstrates the vast improvement of their relationship that she actually cares enough to be worried. Or something.

Jim rotates his chair back so it's facing forward, forcing himself to hold still and be captainly for the rest of his shift. Even though he still misses Bones and can't stop thinking about him. It's not fair, really; Jim had thought he'd lost him for good, and then he gets them back only to have to give each other some space because Bones happens to be immortal.

Three days, Jim decides. He'll give it another three days.

+

He waits until it's been an hour since Bones got off shift. Bones will tend to put in extra hours finishing up paperwork or sending in requests for medical equipment he thinks they need, but unless it's been particularly busy, Bones doesn't typically take more than an hour. And Jim knows it hasn't been busy because he's been keeping a weather eye on medbay reports, keeping track of intake and patient care. Just because he can't see Bones doesn't mean he can't keep track of what he does in a day.

Jim goes to Bones' quarters and hesitates, wondering if this is the sort of conversation he should've brought alcohol for. Bones has his own, but that's not exactly courteous. He starts to think he should've grabbed something out of his quarters when he'd gone back to change out of his uniform when the door opens on its own with Bones standing on the other side. Bones hasn't completely changed out of his own uniform but is no longer wearing his boots and the blue tunic. Standing there dressed completely in black, Jim can't help but think of the RRTS photo of Reaper.

He'd always thought Bones was better with all the phaser classes than a doctor had any right to be. Bones had always claimed it was from growing up in Georgia where shooting and throwing a football came shortly after walking.

Bones is watching him apprehensively, and Jim can't have that, so he steps into Bones' quarters and lets the door slide shut behind him before putting his hands on either side of Bones' waist, pulling him close to kiss him. Bones relaxes in his arms, easing into the embrace, and Jim would really be okay if they forgo the talk they're supposed to have if it means the both of them naked in Bones' bed.

Bones seems to agree with this plan based on the way he pulls back to pull off Jim's shirt and then undoes the fly on Jim's jeans to rub his cock. Jim moans appreciatively, which morphs into a surprised yelp when Bones loops his arms under Jim's thighs to carry him into the other room.

That's when the reality sinks in, that Bones is super-human, immortal, and is only a few years away from being two hundred and fifty.

"Bones, wait," Jim says, putting a hand on Bones' chest after they fall onto the bed. Jim's legs are still wrapped around Bones' waist, and the way they keep rubbing against each other is making it harder for Jim to create a coherent sentence, so he unhooks his ankles and shimmies backwards to put a little bit of distance between them. "Reaper was you?"

Bones rolls off of Jim and onto his side. "Reaper is me, Jim."

It's such a simple statement but it hits Jim hard. "I thought that was just a story made up during the Eugenics Wars."

Jim feels bad for mentioning that time from the way Bones winces; Jim knows that wasn't an easy time for him, when mankind wanted to be physically perfect and Reaper was hunted because he couldn't scar, couldn't die. "You know how stories get exaggerated."

He sits up, climbing off the bed to go into the other room to get a scalpel, the kind that used to be used with a hair-thin metal blade. "You need to see," Bones says, and he's holding out his arm, pushing back the sleeve. Before Jim can say anything, to tell Bones that he doesn't really need to, Bones is cutting into the flesh on the back of his forearm. Blood blossoms out of the wound, and Bones stops, shifting the scalpel so he's holding it between his ring and little fingers as he uses his index finger to wipe away the trail of blood. The skin underneath is perfect.

"You could shoot me pointblank with a phaser and it'll heal up like nothing happened." Bones closes his eyes for a moment, a wry smile flitting across his face. "I know, I tried."

Jim feels his mouth go dry. "You tried to kill yourself?"

"I've watched a lot of people I love die."

Jim thinks this over, following Bones into the bathroom as he washes his arm and leaves the scalpel resting on the edge of the sink. "Did Jocelyn know?"

Bones' response is a gruff laugh as he makes eye contact with Jim through the mirror. "No, she didn't, and she never found out. She didn't believe my age when we met and didn't like how I didn't look any older as the years went by. She definitely didn't like knowing that David didn't approve, and when he died…" Bones looks away, and it makes Jim feel awful for pressing, but it's one of the things he needed to know.

"So David isn't really your father."

Bones turns around, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the sink. "He's my grandnephew. Don't ask how many 'greats' belong before it; it's gotten hard to count them all out."

Leaning against the doorframe, Jim stares at his feet. "You didn't tell Jocelyn. Were you going to tell me?"

"I'd just gotten into med school when I married Jocelyn. I thought it wasn't going to matter; I'd been going over Sam's research for so long and with gene therapy such common practice, I thought I'd have it fixed before she would ever find out, but she left me first. I thought the same thing with you - that it'd be a thing of the past before you learned the truth."

That confession has Jim seeking out Bones' face again, and it's lined with nothing but regret. "Do you have a cure?" he asks, his voice quiet. Jim's not sure what he wants the answer to be. Bones having one means he would've kept the truth hidden from Jim forever, but it also means the next time they encounter hostile aliens, Bones can actually die without his additional chromosomes healing him, bringing him back.

"It works in all the simulations, but without an actual subject to test it on, I can't be sure." Bones runs a hand through his hair, pausing to look at where he'd cut his forearm minutes earlier. "I made a virus that should target and remove the C24, but there's the chance that it might do nothing, or it could be programmed wrong and end up killing me."

"Or it'll work," Jim emphasizes, and Bones looks at him indulgently.

"Sure, Jim. Or it'll work."

Jim reaches across the distance, taking Bones' hand and dragging him back into the bedroom. Jim gives Bones his best I'm going to do dirty, dirty things to you smile. "This means you actually have an instantaneous recovery time, doesn't it?"

Bones falls onto the bed, dragging Jim down with him.

+

Jim's sitting on the edge of the biobed, hands holding tight on either side of his knees like it's the only thing keeping him from floating away. He had to come see Bones, who's apparently been in a meeting with Starfleet Medical in his office all afternoon, but Jim can wait. He's not on duty right now and has to keep waving off nurses and M'Benga and orderlies asking if he needs help. "Pretend I'm not here," he says, and they do a pretty good job aside from watching him out of the corner of their eyes.

When Bones finally steps out of his office, looking frazzled, Jim really can't help what comes flying out of his mouth. "I think you should do it."

Bones rubs at the back of his eyes with one hand and motions into his office with the other. "Jim, can we discuss this in private?"

He hops off the bed, waving back at the catcalls and whoever shouts out, "Uh oh, Captain, you're in trouble now!"

Bones is sitting on his desk, one ankle resting on his knee. "You know they'll be gossiping about us now, right?"

"Eh, they do anyway. It promotes interaction amongst the crew."

"Fantastic. You should write a dissertation on how our sex life improves morale."

Jim grins cheekily. "You're evading." Bones doesn't respond, so Jim continues, his expression sobering. "The virus you made - you should use it. We've encountered so many alien diseases that you didn't even have time to run simulations on, and they ended up working. Bones…" Jim tries to get him to stop looking at the hem of his pants like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, but it's not working. "John…" he tries again, and that gets Bones' attention, the surprise apparent on his face. "I trust you; why can't you trust yourself too?"

"It's not that easy, Jim. I've been wanting this for a long time. What if it doesn't work?"

"Then you try again." Jim steps into Bones' personal space, lowering Bones' legs so he can stand between them. He brackets Bones' face in his hands, trying to show as much sincerity as he can. "And I'll be with you, Bones, every step of the way." Jim smiles to belie the way he can feel his eyes starting to water. "Even if it means you get to be the hot young thing on my arm at Starfleet charity events when I'm old and gray, but you should know that I'd rather be the one in that role."

Bones snorts. "I'll still be older than you."

"Yeah, but no one else needs to know that." Jim presses his forehead against Bones', the sides of their noses sliding against each other. "Well?"

Bones sighs and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Jim's mouth. "Okay."

+

Soaking a washcloth in cold water, Jim wrings out the excess before returning to the bedroom to drape it across Bones' forehead. He has a fever and is sweating profusely, shivering whenever the cooler air of the room hits his skin.

"I can't remember the last time I felt this sick," Bones gripes. He's facing Jim, but his eyes are bleary and unfocused.

"Probably because it was after the turn of the century," Jim retorts, brushing Bones' sweat-soaked hair away from his face. "This is good, right? You wouldn't have symptoms if the virus wasn't working at all."

Bones grunts in what Jim assumes is agreement. "If you'd let me look at the tricorder…" he reaches feebly for it on the nightstand, but Jim just leans over and pushes it farther away.

"You're not the doctor right now. Just let me take care of you." Jim grabs a hypospray and loads it with acetaminophen, pressing the dose into the base of Bones' neck.

"I think you're enjoying that too much," Bones grumbles before promptly passing out.

+

Someone's shaking Jim's shoulder. "Go away," he mumbles, pressing his face deeper into his pillow.

"Jim, the fever's gone," Bones says, his voice carefully neutral, but it has Jim sitting up quickly anyway.

"How do you feel?"

Bones gives a half-assed shrug. "I don't know. Fine?"

"Hang on, I'll be right back." Jim throws the blankets aside and jumps out of bed, all but running into the other room to grab the ceremonial dagger the Romulan emperor had given him from its display stand on his desk. He returns with it cautiously, like Bones' fate is up to the whim of the blade and not whether or not the virus did what it was supposed to. Jim holds it out to Bones handle first.

Bones looks at it like he's afraid of it. Jim can see his hands fisting in the comforter pooled in his lap. "Jim, I can't."

"I can go get that scalpel if you'd prefer," Jim responds, putting the dagger down and looking for a pair of pants he can throw on for the walk to Bones' quarters.

"No, Jim. I mean that I can't."

Jim's eyes go wide as it registers what Bones is asking him to do. "Bones, I'm not going to-"

"Jim, please."

Taking in Bones' scared and pleading expression, Jim feels the exact moment he caves. "All right." Jim worries his bottom lip between his teeth, picking up the dagger as Bones holds out his arm. "Don't you think we should do this in the bathroom?"

"Shit, Jim, I'm not asking you to cut my damn whole arm off. Just hurry up and do it already."

Jim takes a deep breath to calm himself. "I love you, Bones," he says, not caring that his voice is trembling if it means his hand will remain steady.

"I love you, too." Bones takes his right hand and places it over Jim's, the one holding the dagger.

It bolsters Jim somewhat, knowing they're doing this together, and it makes him hate each time he'd ended up needing emergency surgery, forcing Bones to cut his body open when Jim can barely handle the back of Bones' arm. He presses the edge of the blade into Bones' skin, hearing him hiss in pain as a drop of blood appears. Jim does a quick line, no more than a few centimeters, and holds his breath.

Jim waits until the bleeding stops before grabbing the wash cloth that's still sitting on the nightstand; he wipes the blood away, and both he and Bones lean in so quickly to look that their heads smack into each other. Jim says, "Ow" out of reflex and is about to start complaining that he, unlike Bones, can't just magically regenerate his brain cells, but he never gets to voice his thoughts when he notices that Bones is still staring at his arm.

"Bones?"

"The skin's still broken," he replies, and then he probes the edges of the wound with his fingernail, opening a section back up so some more blood starts oozing out. "Jim, look!"

Jim doesn't think he's ever seen Bones smiling so openly, and it makes him look so damn young that Jim can't help but lean forward and kiss him, knocking Bones backwards so Jim's straddling his waist as they lick and nibble at each other's lips.

"Looks like I still get to be the hot young thing," Jim says against Bones' mouth before biting his bottom lip. "You get to become gray and wrinkly just like the rest of us."

Bones laughs and then moves to suck on Jim's neck, but then the wall chime beeps and Spock's voice is filling the room.

"Captain, are you aware that your shift began fifteen minutes ago?"

"Shit," Jim says into Bones' hair before pulling away to respond. "Sorry, Spock. I must've lost track of time after taking care of Bones all night." Jim will admit that he feels a little smug at managing to say that without infusing it with any innuendo.

"Understandable. Is Doctor McCoy feeling better?"

"Oh he's dying like the rest of us, just not anytime soon," Jim responds, wishing he could see the way Spock's eyebrow is surely crawling up his forehead as he tries to figure out what the hell Jim had said.

"Well, tell him that I wish him a swift recovery."

"Will do," Jim responds before terminating the connection. He walks back to the bed, wrinkling his nose. "I have to go."

"Not like that, I assume." Bones rolls onto his stomach, eyeing Jim in his underwear. "The ship's not under attack; I think they can afford to wait another, oh, twenty minutes tops."

"Spock wishes you a swift recovery," Jim says, stepping out of his underwear and climbing back into the position he'd vacated when Spock called.

Bones rolls his eyes, reaching behind Jim to grab his ass and pull him even closer. "I've been recovering swiftly for the last two centuries. I've earned a nice, slow convalescence, and I'm going to take advantage of it."