Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2009-06-08 15:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | star trek fic hotm, star trek fic kirk/mccoy |
Star Trek fic: Resolved on Silence [Kirk/McCoy, general]
Title: Resolved on Silence
Author: celandineb
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy (preslash)
Rating: general
Length: 2210 words
Warnings: a wee bit of swearing, angst
Summary: McCoy determines on a strategy to keep his secret from Kirk.
Note: For emiime, just because. Third in the "Heart of the Matter" series. Er - I now think at least two more installments are going to be necessary, as McCoy is a stubborn bastard.
Damn it to hell.
McCoy's mouth tasted like a sewer, and his head was pounding so hard he thought for a moment that someone was actually banging on his door, but it was the memory of his conversation with Kirk last night that had him cursing as he returned reluctantly to consciousness.
He tried hard to remember the details, and went limp with relief when he was sure that he hadn't actually admitted that it was Kirk in whom he was interested. He'd let slip that it was a man, yes, but that was all.
Thanking any god that might exist, McCoy swung his legs out of bed and headed for the shower to try to wake up before he went on-shift at the clinic in... fuck, twenty-five minutes. He could make it, but no time to eat. He'd have to grab an energy bar or something. Hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as yesterday, when he'd had to help treat the victims of a five-car accident, and lost one of them who had had severe head injuries.
The pounding headache diminished somewhat in the cold shower, and McCoy quickly washed down a couple of aspirin as well.
To his relief the clinic was not too busy. It was a Sunday, but medical crises didn't always wait for the convenience of the standard work week.
A slow day at the clinic was both a good and a bad thing, McCoy decided after several hours. Although it was pleasant not to have emergencies and tragedies all the time, it left him a little too much opportunity to think.
He was virtually certain that, having discovered that McCoy was interested in someone, Kirk would stop at nothing to figure out who it was, which meant that McCoy had better have a plan in place. As he analyzed it, there were three options.
One, deny it altogether, pretend that what he'd said last night had been untrue. He didn't think that Kirk would buy that, however.
Two, keep his mouth shut when Kirk prodded him to confess the identity of the man he was attracted to. That option was more feasible; the difficulty would be in resisting the persuasive abilities of James T. Kirk. McCoy wasn't certain how he was going to manage to do that, given that his track record on the matter was not exactly stellar.
Three, he could 'fess up and simply admit to Kirk that he'd wanted him for the better part of three years now. McCoy shook his head. Right. As if that would do any good with his rampantly heterosexual friend. McCoy had never even heard a rumor that Kirk had ever gotten off with any man, though he'd slept his way through a large part of the ranks of the female cadets, plus a non-negligible number of civilian women as well.
His head shake drew the attention of one of the nurses.
"Is there something the matter with the patient, doctor?"
McCoy had to scramble to come up with some detail that would explain his reaction, but he wasn't sure it was convincing.
Completing the paperwork for that patient – and his mind, as it often had before, contemplated with bemusement the fact that although all the information was computerized, these days, it was still referred to as "paperwork" – McCoy was tempted to look up Kirk's medical history. The other day Kirk seemed to have assumed that McCoy would have done so, to check to make sure that he was keeping up with the appropriate vaccines, but McCoy was not Kirk's physician of record. Unless he actually had to treat Kirk for something officially, as opposed to patching him up after a bar brawl, it was dubiously ethical for McCoy to be looking at Kirk's records.
Now that he had thought about it, it was tempting indeed to do so. Those records would include Kirk's psychological as well as physical evaluations; McCoy could find out if there was any indication that Kirk might not be as straight as he seemed. But no. It would be wrong to do so. Until and unless Kirk asked McCoy to be his doctor, McCoy would keep his hands off and his eyes to himself.
He chuckled grimly, if quietly. Wasn't it the fact that he couldn't keep his eyes to himself that was causing all the problems? He had kept his hands off, though, and planned to continue doing so, except in the unlikely event that Kirk indicated otherwise.
A glance at the clock told him that he had another four hours on shift. Thank goodness for that. Another four hours in which to decide what to do. He didn't particularly expect Kirk to show up at the end of his shift again and demand elucidation, not after McCoy had staved him off effectively last night, but it was good to be prepared.
If he admitted to Kirk that his feelings for the man were more than simple friendship, what were the possible responses? Kirk might be flattered, or disgusted. He might simply think it a joke and laugh. The chance that he would reciprocate McCoy's feelings was negligible enough not even to be worth considering, McCoy estimated. Furthermore, whatever his response, it would almost certainly alter the dynamics of their friendship, and McCoy didn't think he wanted to risk that. He needed a friend like Kirk, someone whose personality was far more optimistic than McCoy's own. He needed someone to tease him out of his black moods, and Kirk had been doing that for years now just by being himself. The thought of losing his friendship turned McCoy cold.
No, the only real option was to hold back from telling Kirk any more, even though that too might put a strain on their friendship. On the other hand, there were matters that McCoy just did not discuss with Kirk, such as his divorce or his parents' deaths, and so if he held his ground long enough, Kirk might give up inquiring. McCoy rather doubted it, but it seemed the best chance. The difficult part was going to be holding to that resolution. When Kirk flashed his most charming smile, the one that made his eyes sparkle blue like sunshine on Gulf waters, McCoy would do almost anything that Kirk asked.
Not this, he told himself. You may find it difficult to keep your mouth shut, but you'll regret opening it even more.
One hour left. He began his final rounds, checking on each patient, ordering adjustments in treatment as seemed necessary. The activity kept successfully distracted for the rest of the shift.
When he was preparing to leave, he was half-sorry that Kirk hadn't shown up, just so that McCoy could test his newfound resolve. On the other hand, Kirk would probably want to go off drinking again. It was astonishing how little time Kirk seemed to require for his studies, but McCoy had a test Tuesday on Starfleet regulations regarding civilian medical emergency assistance, and he, at any rate, needed to study.
Ensconced in the library and reading case studies, McCoy managed to push thoughts of Kirk out of his mind for the time being, but when the building closed and he returned to his room to sleep, once again he couldn't help pondering the situation.
Matthews, who was in the astrogation program, was out as usual – even with simulators, much of the astrogators' work was done at night – so McCoy had the room to himself. He puttered around for a little, reorganizing the books on his shelves since he didn't feel that studying any more that night would do him any good. That was one benefit of having gone through medical school before enlisting in Starfleet; he'd learned to recognize his limits and when he was simply unable to absorb new information.
All his thinking produced no new ideas. He determined once again that his best strategy would be to keep his mouth shut, whatever Kirk might do or say to convince him to spill the beans.
Monday he didn't see Kirk at all, which surprised him. They had no classes together that day, but usually passed on the central quad or saw each other in the dining hall at some point. McCoy wondered if Kirk was, for once, focusing on his studies, or if he'd found an exceptionally attractive woman and was spending more time with her than his usual several-hour encounter.
After his examination on Tuesday, McCoy found out.
Kirk was waiting for him in the hallway when McCoy left the classroom.
"I know you don't have any more classes today, and the clinic said you weren't on shift tonight," Kirk said cheerfully. "So come on."
"Where?" McCoy slung his bag over his shoulder. He'd planned to go to the gym after the exam, and brought his workout clothes with him.
"Not telling." Kirk gave him a shit-eating grin. "What's that? You won't need it."
"My gym clothes," McCoy growled.
"Ah, going to relieve a little tension? Nope, not now. You can leave them in my room if you want."
"No, I'll take them back to mine." Whatever it was Kirk had in mind, McCoy refused to simply go along with everything he said, even if he couldn't resist the man altogether.
Kirk shrugged. "Fine. Yours, then."
After McCoy left his things and they were back outside the dormitory, he turned to Kirk and said, "All right, now where?"
"I told you, it's a surprise."
"What, are you planning to blindfold me?"
"That's a thought." Kirk gave him a smirk. "No, Bones, we're just going to catch a bus, unless you feel like walking about three or four miles."
It took two buses to reach their destination: Ocean Beach. At this evening hour it was largely deserted and McCoy shivered in the chilly wind.
"Here." Kirk threw a companionable arm around him. "Sorry, I should've told you to bring a jacket."
"Yes, you should've," McCoy grumbled, trying not to react to Kirk's closeness. "Now what?"
"Have you been here before?"
McCoy shook his head. He felt slightly defensive that he hadn't been, but it wasn't as though he wasn't kept busy enough as a cadet and physician. Kirk, of course, managed to go everywhere. He didn't know how the man found time.
"Right. This way – we're going to the ruins of a place called the Sutro Bath House. It burned down like three centuries ago, and there's not much left, but there are bits of walls for some shelter from the wind."
"Why are we going there?" McCoy found this bewildering, not really in character for Jim Kirk as he knew him.
"I thought you'd like it. Watching the waves is very relaxing."
Privately McCoy suspected that Kirk had found and used the spot as a romantic destination, and wasn't sure whether to be annoyed that he was being taken to a place where Kirk had probably screwed half-a-dozen women over the last couple of years, or pleased that Kirk for once was thinking of what McCoy might actually enjoy rather than demanding they do something that Kirk liked.
"I'm still curious, you know," Kirk remarked after they'd sat in the scant shelter of a tumbled wall for a quarter of an hour or so, in silence except for the sound of the waves.
"Curious?" McCoy turned his head.
"About who it is you're interested in romantically." Kirk's teeth were white in the dim light when he grinned. "I have a few guesses though."
"I'm sure you do." McCoy made his voice as repressive as possible and looked away again, reminding himself once more to keep his mouth shut about the whole matter. If he admitted the truth to Kirk, an evening like this would surely never happen again... and he was enjoying it, just as Kirk had said he would.
For a wonder, Kirk was quiet again after that. McCoy could feel the faint heat of his body, intermittently, whenever the light winds paused for long enough.
Eventually Kirk rose to his feet and pulled McCoy up with him, and they walked back to the bus stop and returned to campus, making idle conversation about nothing in particular until they reached McCoy's dorm which was closest.
"Bones..." Kirk shook his head.
"What?"
"Never mind. I'll see you later."
Kirk turned away and headed towards his own dorm with that inimitable indefinable gait that was neither a saunter nor a strut, but the movement of a man ready for anything.
McCoy watched Kirk go until he passed under the branches of a huge old tree and disappeared from sight. Then he swiped his card in the lock, noting absently that his hands were shaking. He went in and poured himself a double bourbon.
Damn, but that had been close. The silence had tempted him to break it, even more than Kirk's usual sort of persuasive charm might have done. McCoy swallowed another slug of the whiskey. He hadn't eaten any dinner, but he wasn't hungry. Instead he stripped off his uniform and crawled into bed, willing himself not to remember the closeness he had felt to Kirk only an hour before. He'd get over this, he had to.
There was no point in wanting something he couldn't have.
#2: Contents Under Pressure | #4: Process of Deduction