ceres_libera | Switch 29/50

Title: "Switch" (29/50)
Author:

ceres_libera
Rating: R to NC-17
Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.
Canon: Based in the ST:XI universe, but strongly influenced by all canon ST-verses.
Characters: McCoy/Kirk, with eventual appearances by all other ST:XI characters.
Notes: Georgia. McCoy's 30th birthday, part the second. Warnings: meandery, angsty, talky, but ... burny.

+

After settling Saturn back into his stall, Leo strolled up to the house in the midday heat, wondering how Jim was going to play what had just happened between them. A wry smile twisted his mouth as he forced himself to keep his pace steady, to not hurry and betray any anxiety, even though occasionally his own thoughts would jolt him with ‘Jim kissed me’, and he would feel the sensation of Jim’s mouth on his own, again. Because that was another thing that had been laid to rest by Jim’s kiss. He might have been hallucinating part of what had happened when he’d been coming back to consciousness in the hospital, but not all of it, and certainly not the part where Jim was kissing him. The feel of Jim’s mouth against his today had been exquisite and far too brief, but it had not been unknown.

And he was almost entirely certain that Jim hadn’t planned to kiss him, that it had been a snap decision that he’d made, provoked by their not entirely playful grappling. Not that he minded Jim’s impulsivity in this situation in the least. Hell, after two years of sexual frustration, he was all for it. Still, he wondered if Jim was going to pretend that he hadn’t kissed Leo, or pass it off as meaningless, or if this was finally the step forward that he’d been waiting for. The thing was, Jim could try and play it off any which way he wanted, but Leo had felt the sincerity, the weight of Jim’s want and need in his kiss. He might backtrack, he might run, but it wouldn’t really matter in the end. He’d already tipped his hand.

Leo scraped his boots before stepping into the jack and taking the tall black boots off, wiggling his toes against the cool floorboards in relief before he entered the kitchen. He could hear Jim’s laughter as he crossed the threshold.

“Oh, but you mustn’t get the wrong idea, Jim,” Gram said, “Leo wasn’t the kind of child who got into trouble, generally speaking.”

“I’m sure he was totally perfect,” Jim said solemnly, but with a twinkle in his eye, looking right at Leo with his typical stare, equal parts challenge and mirth. He was leaning against the cabinets next to the sink while Gram washed some lettuce she’d probably made him pick from the garden.

Gram swatted Jim with a tea towel. “I’m sure that your grandmother would say the same about you, Jim Kirk,” she said to him smoothly.

Jim nodded and smiled, but he rubbed the back of his neck tiredly as he did so.

Leo kept himself from narrowing his eyes at Jim. Just like last summer, Jim had come back from his assignment utterly exhausted, but this time it was more than physical.

“She might have had a different opinion about the Thanksgiving that he set dinner free,” Leo said, and Gram laughed.

“Oh, Jim, you didn’t!” Gram said, then turned and looked over her shoulder. “You better have wiped those boots good, Leo,” she warned.

This time Leo didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“They’re very pretty boots,” Jim said innocently.

“Nice manpris,” Leo shot back, and Jim barked out a laugh and mouthed ‘manpris’. “You really oughta brush up on old-time slang,” Leo said.

“But that’s what I have you for,” Jim countered, “to tell me what it was like in the olden days.”

“Jim dear, wash your hands and tear this lettuce for me, will you? Leo, you have ten minutes to not smell like a horse at my table,” Gram said primly. “Now, get.” Jim had his head bent as he dutifully washed his hands and her eyes flicked from Jim to Leo and back again, while her eyebrow assumed a quizzical pose.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, “I’m going.” He made a subtle shrug of his shoulders, knowing that Gram would understand that he didn’t know what was going on. He turned and left the room. But if he had to guess, he would guess that it had something to do with being trapped on a ship with another Tarsus survivor for weeks on end.

+

One thing that Gram knew how to do was keep the conversation moving, and when Leo had returned to the kitchen for their lunch, she was regaling Jim with gossipy tales of her dance career. She was a wonderful storyteller and Jim was honestly engaged with her stories, caught up in the world she was telling him about. While Gram talked, she managed to put a bit more food on Jim’s plate telling him that he simply had to try this or that.

Jim was wise to her maneuvers, but he looked up at Leo with eyes that were honestly laughing before he finally stopped Gram by saying that she couldn’t possibly expect him to gain back the weight he’d lost in one meal, could she?

“Don’t be silly, Jim,” Gram said acerbically. “That’s what dessert is for.” She turned and looked at Leo. “Do I even need to ask what you want for dessert on your birthday, Leo?”

Leo eyed the colander overflowing with peaches that was on the sideboard of the sink. “From the looks of it, no,” he answered.

Gram turned and looked at the sink. “I think I need more peaches,” she said speculatively.

Leo raised an eyebrow. “How many people are you expecting, Gram?”

“Just us,” she said. “Oh, and Steve. Tim, maybe. You know I think he has a girlfriend, Leo and I told him to bring her -– did he mention anything to you about that?”

Leo shook his head and looked at Jim. “I thought Tim had to head back up on Sunday,” he said.

“I invited people to come over tomorrow night,” she said, “even though it’s not officially your birthday.”

Leo stared at her, well remembering their conversation where she’d insisted that he had to stay longer because his birthday was on a Sunday.

“You said not to make a big fuss on your birthday!” she defended herself. “So that’ll just be us,” she paused. “And maybe some of the hands.” She made a disapproving face at Leo, although he had not so much as twitched a muscle. “Surely you don’t object to that,” she said. “They’ve known you since you were a baby!”

Leo looked at Jim, who was now hiding a smile behind his hand. “You know,” he drawled out, “that sounds suspiciously like two parties, rather than the one I was expecting.”

Gram shrugged. “Well,” she said airily, “math was never much my strong suit.” She patted Jim’s hand. “Are you sure you don’t want some more, Jim?”

“No, really,” Jim said, pushing back from the table. He’d emptied his plate. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Gram turned back to Leo. “Besides,” she said. “You said no surprise parties. It’s not a surprise if I’m telling you, right, Jim?”

Jim rested his elbows on the table, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Mmhmm,” he said noncommittally, clearly not wanting to be put in the middle.

She patted Jim affectionately. “And,” she added, “I’m reasonably certain that you were pleased with one of my surprises, at least.”

Leo shook his head at her, watching Jim smother a yawn in his bicep, before he flashed a smile at Leo, who held his eye across the table.

It was true. He was not at all averse to some surprises.

+

Gram refused to let Jim help clean up the kitchen, enlisting Leo to do it with her while Jim wandered into the living room to catch up on the news. Gram and he worked seamlessly to clean up what little there was, their patterns long ago established as to who did what.

When Leo crossed the room to put a bowl away in a high cabinet, he was not surprised to see that Jim was asleep on the couch. He excused himself and went to the living room to cover Jim up with a throw that was left there, sliding the PADD out of his hands and laying it on the coffee table.

When he arrived back in the kitchen, Gram was standing by the sink with her hands on her hips. “Leo,” she said, “what’s going on with Jim?”

“He’s exhausted,” Leo said.

“Well, I can see that!” she said in exasperation. “What I mean is, what happened?”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” he said simply.

“Well, what did you talk about when he came out to see you?” Gram asked, her worry making her more curious than she’d usually be.

Leo’s lips quirked in a half-smile and Gram drew back and looked at him.

“Oh, Leo,” she said. “I didn’t interrupt, did I?”

“Not you,” Leo said ruefully, “but Saturn made his feelings known.”

“That damned horse!” Gram said crossly. “I told you he was a demon!”

Leo shook his head. “What did he say to you on the way here?”

Gram shrugged. “He was excited about being here, asking all sorts of questions.”

Deflecting, Leo thought.

“I did comment that he was too skinny, because he is,” Gram said. “That boy has nothing to spare on the best of days.”

Leo nodded. “He did say in one of his letters that replicated food tastes off,” he allowed. “And I don’t think he got a lot of sleep. They had him working the overnight shift from what he said, and he had a roommate that snored ‘like a beast’, according to his comms. I think he’s just space-lagged and tired.”

Gram was watching him with a shrewd expression on her face. “Uh huh,” she said. “You will tell me if there’s anything I can do to help, won’t you?”

It was not a request, despite the fact that it was phrased like one. He smiled and kissed his grandmother where she was wrinkling her brow. Admirals could learn a lesson or two from his Gram in how to give orders. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Poor boy,” she said. “I get the feeling that he has just about nobody, Leo, and I don’t much like it.”

“He’s got you now, Gram” Leo said, giving her a hug. “I figure you’re worth more than all of them.”

She swatted at him. “You know that’s not true, you sweet talker,” she said. “No one can take the place of your own people.” She sighed. “And don’t think that by buttering me up you’re going to get out of my plans for you this afternoon,” she said. “I want to see for myself exactly how much progress you’ve made back to health.”

Leo groaned. “Gram, do I need to remind you that I rode a horse for the first time in God knows when this morning?”

“All the more reason for you to stretch out," Gram said smartly. "Otherwise you’ll be all hunched over like an old man tomorrow. I’ll meet you in the den in five minutes.”

Leo sighed and didn't even bother to argue, tromping upstairs to change into a pair of loose-fitting sweats and wandering back downstairs. He stuck his head in the living room, but Jim was still fast asleep, so he backed out quietly and went to the den where he laid down on the floor to take a nap himself. He knew very well that ‘five minutes’ in Gram speak meant anywhere from a half an hour until dinner time, so he figured he might as well take advantage of it.

+

An hour later, Gram faced him as they stretched out in tandem, the motions long programmed into him. He could feel her eyes critically assessing his posture and his breathing and made corrections before she even said anything, feeling the burn and pull of muscles gone stiff with disuse, but reawakening. "Leo," she scolded. "The program only works if you do it regularly, and you know it. You've got a ways to go, boy."

Leo sighed and rolled his eyes as they both got on the floor. "Gram,” he said, "I was working on my Zen."

Gram laughed against her kneecap, effortlessly bent in half, all long muscle and grace. "Funny boy," she said.

The crunching of an apple behind him was only slightly distracting. "Yoga?" Jim asked.

"A little," Gram said easily. Her cheek was now laying on her calf as she looked at Leo with an amused expression. "Some yoga, some Tai Chi, some traditional stretches, a bit of the Alexander Method, some of the Orion disciplines. An intergalactic hodgepodge, really."

"Wow," Jim said, getting down on the floor with them, and watching their motions before he began to mimic them. "This reminds me of some of the new stuff they were having us do last semester at the Academy. Have you heard of the Madison Method?"

Leo laughed out loud. "Jim," he said. "Meet Elizabeth Madison McCoy."

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Now who's bragging?" Gram said, twisting her torso around and pinching his hip. "Ten degrees more, Leo!"

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, trying to get his body to do what she wanted.

He looked over at Jim and groaned. Of course, he was able to do everything almost as effortlessly as Gram. Overcompetitive, limber bastard.

+

Leo rocked back and forth on the porch swing on the front veranda, watching the fireflies dance and flirt under the trees across the wide expanse of the front yard. A breeze ruffled the trees and the lawn as he waited for the first stars to come out, sipping on a few fingers of his grandfather’s good bourbon. Jim had insisted on helping Gram with post-dinner clean up, so Leo’d wandered out to enjoy the evening, listening to the crickets and the nightingales, and occasionally slapping at a pest that had somehow gotten by the bug zappers.

It was cool enough that Gram had opened the doors and windows to let the air in, and occasionally, he could hear snatches of her conversation with Jim as they were carried by the breeze. Jim must have succeeded in talking her out of the kitchen at some point, because he could hear the sound of her warming up on the piano in the front room. The light from that room spilled a warm pool of yellow onto the furniture and floorboards down that end of the porch. Gram’s playing sounded odd and halting as she ran through the scales, stopping and starting –- and he thought that she must be still talking to Jim, and distracted. After a few minutes of incoherent random notes, the playing stopped and then resolved into a tune that he did not recognize, one that had a profound melancholic tone. He sat, listening and swinging, as the light from the fireflies flickered out, and the silver burn of the rising moon began to illuminate the sky.

“Leo,” he heard his grandmother say, and turned in surprise to see her standing behind the screen door near the swing, while the music from the living room played on. “Tell Jim I said good night, would you?” She gave a significant look toward the front room. “I’ve got some correspondence to take care of – I’ll be in my sitting room.”

Leo nodded and wished his grandmother a good night, waiting until she’d turned away and begun up the staircase to rise from the swing and walk as quietly as possible to the other end of the long veranda. Jim was sitting on the piano bench, his back to Leo as the hands he’d always admired played over the keys. Leo moved quietly around to a side window, careful to stay far enough back in the shadows that Jim could not see him, but the angle of the piano was such that it was hard for him to see more than the side of Jim’s face. His expression was impassive with no curve to his mouth as he played, but the music was emotive enough to convey the mood of loss, of sorrow.

Leo leaned against one of the veranda posts and the railing on the short staircase down to the western facing lawn as he listened. Across the way, he could see a couple of his grandfather’s hounds coming out of the woods. One of them stopped and stood at the edge of the lawn, looking for all the world like she was listening to the music, although Leo knew that she was just scenting the air and him. “Hey there, Maggie,” he called to the dog, and she gave a low bark and began to run across the wide expanse. It hurt Leo to see how old the bluetick hound had gotten since he’d last seen her. The smaller foxhound that accompanied her circled her dizzyingly while she loped toward him. He walked down the couple of steps and out onto the lawn and sat, pulling on the old dog’s ears and giving her a scratch. “Hey there, old girl. And who’s this?” He pulled at the foxhound’s tag, tipping it toward the light from the house while she yipped and shivered, and he shushed her. “Amber?”

He looked at the dog. “One of the kids must have named you, huh?”

She barked happily.

“All right, now,” he said, “be quiet and listen to Jim.”

The dogs sat companionably on either side of him, Maggie with her head on Leo’s thigh while he petted her and listened to the music, Amber intermittently getting up to circle Leo and Maggie before finally settling next to the bluetick and placing her head on Leo’s knee. He laughed and patted her too, before settling back on his elbows and watching the stars come out as the music ebbed.

“Bones?” he heard the creak of the door as Jim stepped out onto the porch.

Amber stood up and barked excitedly, always happy to meet someone new as Leo answered, “Out here.”

“You need a drink?” Jim asked.

“I wouldn’t say no to a drop more,” Leo drawled, holding up his glass.

Jim came down and retrieved Leo’s glass with a smile, patting the enthusiastic Amber and returning a few minutes later as Amber waited anxiously on the porch.

“Don’t give the dog my bourbon,” Leo warned, still stroking Maggie’s head.

Jim laughed and stretched out next to him on the lawn, putting his glass between them, resting his head on his hand. Amber yipped and lay down with her nose pointing at Jim, tail wagging.

“No,” Leo warned her. “No jumping.”

Amber looked up at him with a falsely innocent expression, tail still wagging, and Jim laughed, scratching the dog’s head. Now that the music had stopped, Leo could hear the activity at the back of the house where the barn was, and knew that soon enough the dogs would be called back for the night.

“Didn’t know you played, Jim,” Leo said.

Jim shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t really,” he said. “My grandmother taught me some things when I was a kid, but … I just fool around.”

Leo nodded. “Sad song,” he said. “I didn’t recognize it.”

“Something my mom played when she was home sometimes,” Jim said. “Always kind of stuck in my head.” He took a sip of his whiskey, as both of the dogs pricked up their ears, Amber jumping up and quivering again.

“Go on, then,” Leo said, patting Maggie one last time. “Good night. They sleep in the barn,” he explained to Jim.

“Ah,” Jim said with a wry smile. “You know this place is nothing like the farms I grew up around."

Leo lay back on the ground and looked up at the sky, only seeing Jim from the periphery of his eye. “Yeah,” he said, letting the silence grow for a while. “What happened up there, Jim?”

“You didn’t get my comms,” Jim said.

Leo turned his head. “I got some of them,” he answered. “You told me that Mitchell was being a dick,” Jim nodded, “and that you’d met some kid named Riley that recognized you.”

Jim took a swallow of his drink.

“From Tarsus?”

“Yeah,” Jim said in a low voice. The breeze rolled through the trees and across the grass. "He wanted to talk about it all the time."

"What'd you do?" Leo asked after a while.

Jim shook his head. "Listened, mostly." He let the silence build again. "At least, he had enough sense not to talk about it in front of other people."

Leo just waited, watching as Jim shifted on the grass, all tight muscles and tension. From the look of him, Jim had not only been trying to outrun his memories, but work them out. The muscles in his arms were more defined than Leo'd ever seen them, the curve of his biceps prominent and exaggerated.

"He's obsessed with finding him," Jim said, then spat the name out as if it were vile, "Kodos. He's sure that he's still alive, and he kept saying that we have to find him."

"Do you think he's alive?" Leo asked.

"Probably," Jim said. "But it's a big universe, right?" He ran his bare feet against the grass. "It's the proverbial needle in a haystack."

A large shape rose up from the trees and began to fly, the sweep of its wings audible in the quiet as the owl trained its sights on some hapless prey on the ground. Jim watched it fly, the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"He had this program," he said haltingly. "Like one of those age progression ones, that he'd used on a sketch he had someone draw for him." He looked at Leo. "It didn't look like him. Kodos." He paused and looked away before he spoke. "And I keep wondering, you know – I mean, Riley was younger than me when it happened – but … how did he forget that face? How did he get it wrong?" Jim shook his head.

"I don't know, Jim," Leo said, knowing there was no point in talking to him about trauma and memory, about the contradictions of eyewitness accounts to the same event.

"I wish I could forget, Bones," Jim said quietly, looking up at the stars. "But my brain doesn't work that way." He drained what was left in his glass, and held it up in front of the moon. "I think," he said slowly, sounding a bit drunk, "that I'm going to have another. You?" He looked over at Leo.

"I'm good," Leo said, letting him see how much was left in his glass.

He heard the bang of the screen door as Jim went into the house, and the quieter one on his way out. This time, when Jim lay down on the grass next to him, he barely left any space between them. "So," he said, stretching out. "Tell me about the conference."

Leo turned his head and looked at Jim.

"Don't give me the look, Bones," Jim said, looking right back at him. "I'm OK."

Leo stared at him a bit longer, but Jim had set his jaw in that way that told him that the topic was closed, for the moment.

"Conference?" Jim prompted.

"It was fine," Leo said in a long drawl. "It kind of surprised me how many folks showed up, but we got good feedback from most of them – they said they felt it had been helpful. Some groups came out of it." He paused, and took a sip of his whiskey. "Barnett showed up to hear the keynote speaker."

"Shut up!" Jim said. "Barnett?"

"Mmmhmm," Leo hummed. "I thought he was there to give me the hairy eyeball, you know, to make a list of names of folks that should be kept onworld, or some such, but he made a point of coming up to me and telling me that he thought that the conference had been a good idea."

Jim whistled. "Bones," he said, "getting in tight with the brass."

"You shut up," Leo said, kicking at his leg while Jim smiled.

"You think you're ready to go up there now," Jim said, after a moment. "Now that the conference is over?"

Leo shook his head. "It doesn't have much to do with it, in my case," he said slowly looking at Jim. "I made my peace with it my own way, as you very well know."

Jim grinned at him. "Good," he said. "It is beautiful, Bones," he said, looking back up at the stars. "Strange, but beautiful. Just like Horatio said."

Leo nodded.

"Didja bring the rest of the journals with you?" Jim asked. There was a tone of eagerness in his voice that made Leo smile.

"If I'd known you were going to be here…" Leo answered, watching the question form on Jim's face. "Don't even ask me, Jim," he warned. "I'm not telling you the end of the story, no matter how much you pout." Before Jim could object any further, he added, "And don't even think of asking Gram – I already told her not to tell you no matter how much you give her the puppy eyes."

"Bones!" Jim protested, kicking him again.

"My lips are sealed," he intoned, watching Jim's eyes travel to his mouth and linger just a bit too long. He licked his lower lip and took a drink, watching Jim reflexively mimic his gesture before he turned his head and determinedly looked back up at the stars.

"I don't make puppy eyes," Jim said in a particularly peevish tone.

Leo pursed his lips and tried to keep the bubble of laughter that was threatening to well up at bay. Not yet, Jim Kirk, Leo thought, but it might be fun to make you beg, just a little. He turned his eyes back up to the heavens and let the smile bloom on his face.

+

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... lovely as always.

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Switch 29/50

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