DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the
creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2009 by Djinn. This story
is Rated R.
Rainy Night in Georgia
by Djinn
Candles flickered,
lighting corners of the living room in strange ways, making McCoy feel as if
this wasn't his home, wasn't the place he'd grown up, but some stranger's
house. He breathed in the musty odor: that down-home, southern smell of a house
shut up for too long.
"You really
need to pay the damn bills, Bones," Jim said as he came out of the dark
bathroom. "We're not going to run out of water, are we?"
"No, there's
a well." The house was old, still self-reliant in some ways. If it had
been cold, they could have lit a fire in the massive fireplace and stayed warm
that way. But it wasn't cold, it was hot, so he had the wooden shutters open
around the room, creating cross drafts. Not like a chiller system, but still
much cooler than nothing at all.
Christine kicked
her shoes off and stretched out on the chaise McCoy's mother had loved. "Even
with a well, there'll be no long, hot baths—or even short, hot baths."
"No hot
water? Great." Jim sat down on the couch and seemed unsure whether to make
himself comfortable or not. "So, is this where you lived with
Jocelyn?"
"Jocelyn the
bitch," Christine muttered, and McCoy smiled at the vitriol in her voice. She'd
never met his ex wife, and still she was willing to
take his side. Christine was a good friend.
She moved, getting
settled, curves outlined sweetly in the uniform she'd worn to the memorial
service for the families of those on the Farrugut
and the other ships. She stretched, seemed to be trying to make her breasts
even more prominent.
Sweet Jesus, why
was she still just a friend?
"We hate
Jocelyn," Jim said, finally stretching out and getting comfortable, as if
he'd had to think about it. But that was how he was, how he'd grown up. Never
get too comfortable. Never assume you're welcome. Hell
of a way to spend a childhood.
"No, I didn't
live here with Jocelyn. She hated this house. Hated every damn thing about it. Too
old. Too hot in the summer. Too noisy with its creaks and groans. The only time
she liked it was when the rain hit the roof like it's doing now."
"Her loss,
Len," Christine said. "It's a great house. What I can see of it,
anyway."
"You want a
tour?"
"Some other
time." She sighed. "It's been a long day."
"The
longest." Jim closed his eyes, as if he could take away the memory of all
those families mourning all those lost souls.
"How about a
drink, then?" This was definitely the right time for booze. McCoy fished
around in the liquor cabinet till he found the little button his father had
shown him when he'd turned eighteen. He pushed the button and the false back
came off; the bottles were still there from the last time he'd stocked the
place. "Ah, the good stuff. Won't even need ice." The glasses were
nowhere to be found, so he pulled out one of the bottles, opened it, took a
pull, then wiped the lip off with his shirt sleeve before he passed it to
Christine.
"That, my
dear Leonard, does not pass the Starfleet hygiene inspection." His
unsanitary practices didn't stop her from also taking a long pull. "Jimbo?"
He took the bottle
from her with a frown. "Did I say you could call me that?"
"Sorry. James?"
"Uhhhh..."
"Okay. Jim."
Her smile was sweet and goofy and sexy—hey! Did she like Jim?
McCoy moved to
perch on the arm of her chair and she gave him a strange look.
Damn. Did she not
like him?
Jim shot him a
look, one that normally went to people who weren't his best friend. "Something
wrong with the other five chairs in this very large room, Bones?"
"I like it
here. Something wrong with here?" He wished Jim would hurry the hell up
with the bottle.
"Here is
fine." Christine let her hand fall languidly on his knee, probably having
no idea what that little touch did to him. "The rain sounds pretty."
"One of the
best things about growing up here."
"I used to
listen to the rain in Iowa. I'd hide out in the shed behind our house. Just me
and the spiders and the rain." Jim handed McCoy the bottle. "I hated
our house once my stepfather got there. He ruined it."
"Ruined it
how?" Christine's voice was soft, as if she could ease the story out of
Jim, but McCoy knew he'd clam up. Only a teaser, that's all he ever gave when
it came to his now long-gone stepdaddy.
"He just
did." Jim put his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "Distant
memory, right, Chris? It doesn't matter." He held his hand out for the
bottle and McCoy obliged.
"Very
distant, Jim. And things have changed. You're in Starfleet now." McCoy
smiled at him.
"Days like
today...they make me wonder why I—"
"No." Christine
looked at him, then up at McCoy. "No, Jim, don't say it makes you wonder
why you're here. You're the reason we have an Earth to have this ceremony on. You're
the reason there's anyone left to mourn."
"She's not
wrong, my friend. Even if you sounded the ass side of crazy when you explained
it to me on the ship."
Jim nodded, but
his look was pensive. "If not me, there would've been someone else. Someone
would have stepped up. Nature abhors a vacuum."
"Bullshit,"
Christine said, taking the bottle from him. "Just straight and utter
Iowa-brand bullshit. You're a hero, Jim. Accept it and don't let it go to your
head."
"How can I
with you two around?" But he still didn't look very happy.
"That's the
idea, my friend. Remember thou art mortal." McCoy started to get up
Christine gripped
his thigh, said, "Don't. It feels good to have someone close."
He indulged
himself, relaxed again and brushed a tendril of hair off her cheek. She reached
up and took the clip out, letting her hair fall around his fingers. Soft, so
damn soft.
He glanced at Jim,
who was watching them both with a strange look on his face. "Something
wrong, Jim?"
Now, why the hell had
he said that? Who cared if Jim didn't like this? He got all the girls; he
didn't need this one, too.
"Just a
little lonely over here."
Christine got off
the chaise, took McCoy's hand, and pulled him with her to the couch. "Move
your feet," she said to Jim.
"Aye aye, sir." He moved so he was sitting, not lounging.
Christine sat down
next to him. Right goddamned next to him. But McCoy didn't have much time to
think about that because then she was pulling him right next to her. With a
sigh, she put her arms around them both, like some benevolent mother goddess,
and said, "No one should be lonely tonight."
McCoy rested his
head on her shoulder and felt the booze making him sleepy.
Jim leaned in,
smiled at McCoy, and said, "Thanks for bringing us here, Bones. I felt
like I was suffocating at the service. So many people. So many eyes."
"No one here
but us," Christine said, laying her lips on Jim's hair, then turning and
doing the same to McCoy. "Just be quiet now. I'm so tired."
"This couch
pulls out, darlin'." McCoy eased her up and out of the way and motioned
for Jim to grab the other end after they cleared off the cushions. They pulled
and cursed and finally got the thing out.
"Whoever's in
the middle has to lie on the support bar. I slept on one of these at my
grandparents." Christine crawled onto the thing anyway and lay down in the
middle, rolling to her side away from McCoy.
McCoy settled in
next to her, his arm going around her, spooning her before Jim could get in there
and work the Kirk charm. He felt Christine's hand settle over his.
"Get down
here," she said to Jim, her voice sleepy and sexy.
Jim lay down and
rolled to face her, and he smiled as he leaned in and kissed her, not a long,
passionate kiss, but not a peck, either. "Good night, Chris."
"Good
night." She turned to look at McCoy, smiled and leaned back to kiss him,
too. "Good night, Len."
He was sure he
wouldn't sleep, not holding her like this, not with McCoy Junior pushing hard
against her hip. But as he listened to her breathing change to that of sleep,
as Jim cuddled in next to her and muttered in his sleep, McCoy felt an
overwhelming sense of peace. He closed his eyes, nestled into Christine's hair,
and let go.
##
Shore Leave,
finally. On a planet that was Earth-like enough to make Kirk think it could be
home—or Bones' home, anyway. It was humid exotic like Georgia, not humid boring
like Iowa.
"Holy God,
it's hot down here." Chris was out of uniform—way out of uniform. She was
wearing a halter that accentuated her chest and a flowing skirt that the wind
kept pressing against her legs. Kirk was having a hard time paying attention to
anything else.
"Here." Bones
turned away from the vendor he'd been talking to and handed them both silly
looking straw—or the local version of straw—hats. "You're going to get
sunburned or heatstroke—or both."
"This hat? I
don't think so," Kirk said, but Chris laughed and put hers on. She looked
charming, in an utterly goofy sort of way, so Kirk put his on,
too, then gave Bones a stern look until he grabbed one for himself.
"Aren't we
the trio?" Chris asked, taking their arms as they walked away from the
vendors and storefronts and onto the beach that surrounded the large lake.
Trio. Kirk glanced
at Bones, wondered how he felt about that word. He knew his friend had a thing
for Chris. Normally, that would make Kirk back off. Way off. But something was
different this time. It wasn't so much a competition that he wanted to win as a
comfort he didn't want to give up.
He didn't want to
lose Chris. Or Bones. If he backed away slowly and let them pair up, they'd
leave him alone. He'd be on the outside looking in, watching them make googly
eyes just as he had to with Spock and Uhura. Well, if Vulcans made googly eyes,
which they didn't, but Uhura did it enough for both of them.
"Ah, the two
lovebirds have landed in our neck of the woods." Bones pointed toward the
water, where Uhura was sitting with a severely overdressed Spock. They looked
comfortable together, though. Happy, even.
"I don't
understand what she sees in him," Chris said, and by her tone, Kirk could
tell she meant it. So, he probably shouldn't tell her that when the older Spock
had shared his thoughts, Kirk had seen a whole lot more than just things about
their friendship. Like how that universe's Chris had chased that Spock for
years.
Chased. He
couldn't imagine his Chris doing that, but that Chapel had seemed different
than his, and he supposed she was. God knew how her world changed the day the
universes split. Or whatever they did. He still wasn't clear on that. But he
knew he wasn't like the Jim Kirk that Spock had known, no matter how much the
older Spock wanted him to believe he could be.
"Guess she
likes the brainy type," Bones said.
"That leaves
you two out." Chris's grin was devilish and Kirk slapped her on the butt
and said, "Hey!" Earning himself a stern look and a "That's
hardly officer material" from Chris.
"Not officer
material, my ass," Bones said, punctuating his words with his own slap to
her butt. "Or your ass, anyway."
Okay, so they were
both ass men. Did that bode well or badly? Although Kirk liked her legs and her
chest. Her face was great, too. Was there a part of her he didn't like so much?
He looked down at her feet. There: her toes weren't great. No one should be
perfect, after all.
"Why are you
looking at my feet?" Chris leaned in, whispered in his ear, "Do you
have a foot fetish?"
"Share with
the class, Christine."
"She asked me
if I had a foot fetish. To which I say most definitely 'No.'" He winked at
Bones. "But the good doctor might not be so innocent."
"I like all
parts on a lady. I hate to limit myself." Bones steered them away from
Spock and Uhura, and Kirk didn't argue. Somehow, whatever it was the three of
them were doing seemed safer away from the still-not-quite-sure-of-him Spock. The
older Spock had shown him something wonderful, and Kirk could still feel it
when he was around that Spock. But he didn't feel the same thing for the
younger Spock. He didn't know if he ever would.
Even if part of
him longed for that, a friendship so deep you'd die for one another and risk
anything. No one had ever risked everything for him. No one since his father,
anyway. That other Kirk had known his father. It still hurt, that somewhere
there was a Kirk who'd grown up loved.
He tried to mentally
shake off the pain, turned to Chris, and said, "So what parts of a man do
you like?" He waggled his eyebrows and made the other two laugh. "I mean other than the obvious?"
"Not that
part."
Bones nearly
choked. "You don't like that part? Not at all?"
"Oh, for
God's sake. Of course I like that part. I love that
part." She rolled her eyes at their mutual looks of happiness. "I
just mean I don't pick a fellow based on that."
"So what do you base your decision on?" Kirk hoped to
God it was something he had going for him.
"I like dark
hair." She waited a beat. "And light."
Bones groaned. "Bitch."
She just laughed. "Boys,
I think you both are lovely examples of the male species. Why I think that is
none of your damned business. Now, which of you lowlifes is going to buy me
lunch? I'm hungry and I want to eat someplace nice."
They both
volunteered and she smiled happily. "Mmm, twice
the credits." She leaned over to Bones, kissed his cheek, then did the
same to Kirk, but he turned so she had to kiss him on the lips. The kiss went
on for a while, until Bones pulled her away and planted one on her, also long,
with quite a bit of tongue. Kirk considered pulling her back to add some tongue
of his own, but that would look like he had something to prove.
Chris seemed quite
happy with them both. "Mmm, this is the life,
gentleman. Now, food."
There was no
arguing with her when she was hungry, and they were both wise enough to know that.
So Kirk let her lead them to a very nice restaurant.
The first table
they were led to was set up for four, with two chairs on either side. "No,"
Chris said to the host, "not unless you want a fight." She pointed to
a three person half-circle booth. "That one will
be fine."
"We wouldn't
have fought," Bones said as he slid in on one side of the booth after
Chris had taken the middle, and he almost sounded like he believed it.
"Or not for
long." Kirk slid in on the other side and winked at Bones to take the
sting out. "We'd have both sat across from you so we could admire
you."
She made a
retching sound and picked up her menu, ignoring them as they bickered over who
would have done what.
##
Chapel lay on the
large beach towel, watching as Jim and Len tried to drown each other in the
water.
"You guys are
together a lot." Nyota lay down next to her, sharing the
big-enough-for-three towel.
"We're
friends." Chapel turned to see her friend's expression, but Nyota had
sunshades on that hid anything she was thinking. "Why? Are you jealous? Spock
not enough for you?"
"So you're saying there is something going on with you
three?"
"I am not
saying that." She slipped her own sunshades on, suddenly feeling
vulnerable, exposed. "But...what if there were?"
"It'd
be...unusual."
"Maybe."
Not if they were Deltan. Or Darillian.
Or—
"I didn't
come to give you a hard time. You seem happy and you weren't happy for such a
long time when you first got here, after Roger and that other woman..."
"Andrea."
"Right. Her. And
now you're smiling and light and if they did that, well then they're on my list
of people I like." She bumped her shoulder against Chapel's. "You're
my friend and I want you to be happy."
"Thanks."
She bumped her
again, harder this time. "But I also want you to be careful. Just don't do
anything when you're drunk, okay?"
"When I'm
drunk?"
"Does hoverskating on the roof during the 'Yay, the midterms are
over' party ring a bell?"
"I actually
hadn't drunk that much punch." Was doing stupid things when you were sober
better?
"Uh huh. I
had to come up with a very creative lie for you when you crashed and burned."
"And you did
it with great aplomb. And, fortunately, Gaila was
there to distract the hoverskate rental guy into not
noticing the skates were trashed." Gaila could
distract a dead man. Chapel envied the woman her sex appeal. Roger would have
found her very enticing, no doubt.
Roger. Roger had
sucked her heart out and left her to flounder.
No, she'd let
Roger suck her heart out and then let herself flounder.
She liked the
first version better.
"Where'd you
go just then?" Nyota was playing with the sand, picking up a handful and
letting it stream back onto the beach.
"Sorry. Was
wallowing in Roger-land."
"Ugh. Not
allowed." She pointed over to where Jim and Len were swimming, racing from
the look of it. "They always so competitive? Because I could see some
benefit in that..."
Chapel laughed. "You're
so bad."
"Yes, my
friend. Yes, I am." She leaned in and let her head rest on Chapel's
shoulder for a moment. "Just stay happy. I like you this way a lot. Now, I
have to go. Spock's getting restive."
"He doesn't
strike me as the romantic bonfires on the beach kind of guy."
"You're as
perceptive as ever." Nyota winked and then pushed herself up in one
graceful movement. "I'll see you back on the ship."
"Right."
She closed her eyes, enjoyed the feeling of the sun beating down on her.
"You missed a
spot," Jim said, dripping water on her as he rubbed some sunscreen in.
Len took the spot
Nyota had vacated. "You okay?"
"Just
lazing."
"You look
damned good lazing."
"You do,
Chris. Lazing is an extremely good look for you." Jim's hand slipped down,
stopping at the small of her back, not going lower, not going anywhere
indiscreet. He let it linger for a moment, the heat growing between them.
"You two up
for a game?" Sulu yelled from the volleyball pit.
"Oh, yes, my
friend," Len said with a fierce grin. "And we are going to kill you
just like last time."
"Pav and I
have been practicing."
Chapel looked up
to see Sulu beaming. She didn't know him well yet, but she liked what she'd
seen. Then she put her head down and went back to lazing. "Have fun, you
two."
##
For a fundraiser,
the party was pretty raucous. McCoy leaned against a pillar and watched people
pouring liquor back as if it was water. He saw Christine moving across the
room, skirting the dance floor—he should dance with her tonight, if Jim didn't
get there first, or even if he did, McCoy should dance with the woman he had a
very large crush on.
"She looks
good." Jim handed him a glass of bourbon and sipped his own. "I like
that dress."
"Me,
too." The dress was backless, dropped so low it was almost scandalous. McCoy
imagined his hand resting on her back just...there. "I really like
it."
Jim laughed
softly, then the sound trailed off. "Who the hell is that?"
"Oh,
shit." McCoy was already moving, could feel Jim in tow. "Korby. Roger.
Asshole."
"Oh, we hate
him."
"Yes. Yes, we
do." Korby was right up there with Jocelyn and Jim's stepfather in the
jerk of the century award.
Christine was
holding her own when they reached her, but she seemed to relax when McCoy took
one side, Jim the other.
"Who's your
friend, love," Jim said, ever smooth—and slightly threatening.
"This is
Doctor Roger Korby. You've heard me talk about him."
"Of course we have." McCoy laid his hand on the part of
her back he'd been fantasizing about earlier, saw Korby's
eyes narrow. They narrowed even more when Jim slipped his arm around her
shoulders.
"She tells us
everything," Jim said, again the words coming out smooth but deadly.
"Well,
Christine, it's good to see that you're keeping busy." Korby managed to
load a lot of disdain into the word busy. "I'd have to be marooned to not
know who you are, Captain Kirk. But you"—he looked over at McCoy—"I
don't believe I've had the pleasure."
"Leonard
McCoy. Doctor as in M.D."
"Ah. Well,
gentleman, do you mind if I talk to my former fiancée in private?"
Christine seemed
to shrink slightly into their arms.
"Yes,
actually, we do." Jim looked ready to fight.
"Very much
so," McCoy said, loading as much old Southern gentleman as he could—he'd
found nothing said "Don't piss me off" quite as well as gentility
over steel.
"No,"
Christine said, as she pulled out of their protective grips. "No, it's all
right. I doubt Roger has anything to say to me that I want to hear, but I'll
listen."
"We'll be
watching," McCoy said, glancing at Jim, who nodded slowly—damn the man. He
could load threat into any gesture.
Christine followed
Korby to a corner of the room and sat down next to him. Her face stayed
emotionless through much of whatever Korby was telling her. Then she laughed
and stood up, waving Korby back into his seat and stalking over to them.
"That didn't
look like a fun conversation."
"Actually,"
Jim said, "it didn't look like much of a conversation."
"It wasn't. He
wants me back. He's tired of Andrea. He made a mistake." She took them
both by the arms. "Screw him."
"Or
not," McCoy said, feeling a warm glow building inside him.
"Or
not," she said laughing. "Now, who's going to dance with me?"
McCoy spoke first,
but he had a feeling Jim wasn't trying to win. Was it better not to be first? Hell,
he was a good dancer, but was Jim better? Was that his plan, to amaze her with
how much better he was?
"Hello, Len. Dance?"
"Oh,
right." He quit thinking about Jim and concentrated on her and her lovely,
uncovered back.
##
Kirk awoke to
blackness, tried to blink and found he couldn't. He reached for his face but
felt a soft touch on his hand, a gentle voice saying, "Jim, don't." Chris.
Chris and she sounded upset.
"Your eyes,
Jim. You need to leave them alone." Bones sounded distressed, too. Far
beyond what normal injuries in the field would cause.
Kirk tried to
remember what happened. Everything was a blur and he took a deep breath,
forcing himself to center, to calm, the way he used to when his stepfather
yelled and all Kirk wanted to do was launch himself at him and knock the
superior smirk off his face.
"What
happened?" he finally asked, when he felt calm enough to hear the news.
"New energy
weapon." Chris sounded like she'd been crying, and he reached out for her
until she took his hand and held on tightly. "You got the brunt of it. That'll
teach you to take point all the time."
"Yeah, no
kidding." He realized he wasn't in any pain—just how doped up did they
have him? "Everything's still there, right?"
He felt soft lips
on his cheek, then a firmer grasp on his shoulder, and Bones saying,
"Everything's there, compadre."
"I've got
other patients who need me." Again Chris' lips
touched down on his cheek, then he heard her leaving.
"Be straight
with me, Bones. What's the prognosis?"
Bones cleared his
throat. "Your eyes are the biggest worry. We'll know in another twelve
hours if you'll be able to see again. Lying quietly is the best thing you can
do now. You had fairly extensive burns, which we healed with dermaskin—it's going to itch like crazy in a few hours. Don't
scratch it." Bones sounded rattled. "Jim, I don't mind telling you. I
was scared."
Kirk forced his
trademark grin. "Why? Worried you'd win Chris by default."
"I don't want
to win her if it means losing you." Bones dropped his hand onto Kirk's,
squeezed hard. "You're important to me, Jim. Both of you are."
"I know. Same
here." He heard Bones sniff. "How long have you two been sitting with
me?"
"Off and on,
about thirty hours."
It scared him that
he'd been out that long, but it also touched him that they'd been with him, and
he felt a smile growing. Devotion. He knew what the word meant but not from
personal experience. Not till now.
"When I'm all
better, we should go out. The three of us. Maybe back to your house?"
"I paid the
bills so we'll have all the comforts of home. Even had a local gal come in and
spruce it up a bit, covers for the bed and such. She'll stock it with food if I
let her know we're coming." There was a long pause, and Kirk tried to read
into the silence. Then Bones said, "I was letting it go because I was
angry at me and at Jocelyn and at my father, for dying and making me— For
leaving me."
"That's
understandable."
"No, Jim. No,
it's not. That house was my sanctuary. Whenever I needed a place to get away,
to be safe, it was there. And how did I repay it?"
"It's a
house. They're much more resilient and forgiving than people are." He'd
never loved a house, especially not the Iowa house. Even before his stepfather
came into the picture, his mother had been distant. After all, what was Kirk
but a reminder of everything she'd lost?
He heard footsteps
coming back, Chris telling Bones another patient needed him. She sat down as
Bones hurried off.
"How are you
doing?" she asked softly.
"I'm
processing." He smiled at her. Not his calculated smile, but the real one
he hardly ever let out. "Thank you for watching over me."
"You're
welcome. I love you. It wasn't any burden." She leaned in,
her breath warm on his skin. "Len loves you too, you know?"
"I know. When
this is all over, you and me and Bones are going to his house."
"I heard the
lights are back on."
"And there's
warm water for showers."
He could
practically hear her smile. "Hope it's a big shower," she whispered. "Because
I hate to break it to you, but I'm not choosing between you two." Her
voice broke at the end. "Not after sitting here with him, watching how
much he cares, how badly it would hurt him to lose you."
"He wouldn't
do well losing you, either." He sighed. "I sure don't want to lose
you—either of you."
"I
know."
"Our lives up
to now, Chris. So much loss and pain."
"Maybe that's
what makes this work? This...friendship?"
He started to nod
but immediately thought better of it.
"Good boy. Lie
still and let your eyes heal."
He smiled. She was
the only person in the galaxy he'd let call him a good boy and live.
##
The house was
bright with lights from the old chandeliers and the antique lamps scattered
around the living room. Chapel turned and smiled at the two men who were both
staring at her with twin looks of hunger.
It was still a
treat to see Jim looking at things. He'd had to stay in sickbay longer than
they'd expected. She hadn't been sure he'd see again. But he'd gotten better. The
Kirk will and the McCoy determination to do everything right. And her own form
of stubbornness. Making Jim mind. Making Len sleep.
Jim was looking at
her now, eyes working just fine as he watched her and the tight dress she'd bought special for this night, a dress that was
cut low in the neckline and high in the skirt.
"Are we doing
this now?" she asked and saw their looks of desire turn to something more
startled. "Boys, if you don't want me, you can't look at me the way you
both just were."
Inside, some part
of her hoped that one or the other of them would turn away. This was a big
step, the biggest. Maybe too big. Maybe it would destroy them.
And then Jim
grinned. And Len did, too. And she found herself laughing softly.
Maybe it wouldn't
destroy them. Maybe it would feel good and be fun and be just what the doctor—or
nurse, or captain—ordered.
"I want to
show you something," Len said, turning and leading them up the huge
staircase, into the hall and down to the last door. "The master
bedroom."
Chapel gasped with
pleasure at the sight of the elegant old room with the enormous bed and the
French windows that led onto a veranda with a view of the fields and woods. Len
pointed to a door, "All the hot water anyone could want."
She walked over,
expecting to see a clawfooted tub, wondering how
three of them would fit, but the bathroom had been modernized, with a huge
glass shower that looked like it sprayed water from all directions, marble
floors that shone softly, and gold fittings that gleamed.
"Nice,
Bones." Jim's hand was on her back, rubbing up and down.
She turned
quickly, so quickly he didn't have time to pull his hand away, and he ended up
rubbing her front, his fingers tripping over her breasts.
She looked at Len,
held out her hand. "Get the hell over here."
He walked slowly,
nodded at Jim as he moved, his eyes fixed on where Jim's hands met her chest. "Don't
stop on my account."
As soon as he was
within reach, she pulled him in and wrapped her other arm around Jim. For a
moment, they just stood close, breath on her neck from both of them, lips
starting to move.
"I don't know
what I'd do without you two," she said.
Murmured sounds of
assent, reply, understanding.
"I've never
done this before. Three of us..."
She heard Jim
chuckle, heard Len murmur, "And you think we're the kings of the
threesome?"
She turned and
kissed him, and he pulled her in, his mouth capturing hers, his tongue rough. He
ran his hand down her side, lingering all the places her boss should not be
touching.
When he finally
pulled away, he said, "I've been wanting to do that for...well,
forever."
She turned to Jim,
who gave her a gentle smile, and she felt a pang for him, a pang she never felt
for Len. Jim's cocky exterior hid a world of hurt—and a scared little boy.
"Are we going
to do this, Captain?"
He nodded slowly.
"Is it a good
idea?"
He shook his head,
his grin growing.
"Do we
care?" She included Len in the question.
"We may
care." Jim looked at Len. "And...there are
aspects of this I haven't explored before." He reached out, his movement
almost tentative, as he touched Len's hair, then slid his finger gently along
the slope of his cheek, the edge of his jaw.
Len gulped, but he
didn't look away. "Me either, Jim."
Jim turned back to
her. "I believe you were about to kiss me and find out just how much
better I am than this yokel."
She saw Len look
down with a smile, and then she didn't see anything because Jim was kissing
her, and she closed her eyes and rode it out. When he let her go, she felt
Len's hands supporting her from behind, and then his body pressed against her
back.
"I want to
see you two kiss." When they hesitated, she
murmured, "Indulge me, boys."
Len moved around
first, and that didn't surprise her. She'd always known he loved Jim. He'd just
probably never planned to ever express his love in this particular way.
"I love you
both," she said softly, letting her hands fall on their shoulders, guiding
them gently, inexorably toward each other.
Their lips met. For
a moment, it was awkward. For a moment, she thought they were going to back off
with just a chaste peck. Then Jim ran his hand down Len's arms, and Len
groaned, and suddenly they were kissing ferociously. A moment later, Jim
grabbed her, pulled her in between them. She felt Len's lips on her neck as Jim
kissed her. Len was pulling off her clothes, and Jim helped, and soon she was
naked and caught between them. Held tight whenever they leaned toward each
other, kissing over her shoulder.
They moved toward
the bed. A shuffle of entangled limbs and locked lips. They shifted and slid
and eventually fell onto the soft, welcoming mattress.
Jim touched her
first, his fingers going deep, and she knew he was making sure she was ready.
She'd never been
more ready in her life.
As he moved over
her, into her, and as Len knelt beside them, kissing her, then kissing Jim, she
let go, surrendered to what they were doing.
Surrendered with a
cry that Jim smiled at, and Len leaned in and said, "Oh, darlin', if you
think that was good..." And then once Jim moved out of the way, he
proceeded to show her his definition of good.
There was
something to be said for being older and wiser. She saw Jim frowning as she
came, knew a competition was in order—damn Uhura for her perceptiveness. She
hoped to hell she'd survive this battle of wills and tongues and fingers and...other bits.
In the interest of
preserving some of her strength, she rubbed their backs, moving them gently
closer, felt the moment of resistance and then the surrender as they took over,
leaning in, lips meeting again. She lay back, catching her breath, the sweat on
her skin drying and leaving goose bumps as she watched the men
she adored make love.
Jim collapsed next
to her. Len crawled over to the other side. They lay, their legs catching hers
up, pulling hers apart, as they breathed heavily and smiled at each other. Their
attack on her was perfectly synched. Fingers, lips, tongues.
Jim kissed her,
muffling her cries as she came. She returned the favor, her mouth covering
Len's when Jim took him over the edge. She pushed Jim to his back, got to know
his alter ego a little better.
"Oh, dear,
God. I'm not going to survive this," Len murmured as he watched her work
on Jim.
"You?" Jim's
voice croaked a little as he stroked her hair and let her have her way with
him.
She just laughed
softly and kept on doing what she was doing.
The night seemed
to last forever. Their bodies melding, then pulling away. Kisses and strokes
and sweet words being whispered in the warm darkness. At one point, they moved
to the shower, playing in the water, enjoying the streams hitting them from all
angles. Finally leaving the marble and glass paradise to fall damp and happy in
the bed. She lay still for a while, tucked into Jim's arms, her legs covering
Len as he lay on his side watching them both.
"I'm not sure
I can tell you both how much I love you," he said softly. "When I met
you"—he looked at Jim, his eyes softening—"I was at the lowest point
of my life. I had nothing."
"Me,
too," Jim said softly, tightening one hand on her, reaching out with the
other to grasp Len's arm.
"Mmm," she said. It wasn't coherent, wasn't even
English, but it meant she was happy. It meant she felt safe. She forced words
out. "I'm so glad we all met."
"More than
met, sweetheart," Jim said, pushing against her, letting her know that he
was ready when she was.
"Mmm," she said again, glad that they didn't seem to
mind how inarticulate she was.
As the night wore
on, talking became increasingly optional.
##
McCoy brought
coffee out to the veranda, saw Christine frown when she took in the two extra
cups. He sat in the chair next to her and played with her hair while she leaned
back, her legs lying over Jim's lap.
Jim was only a
moment behind her on the coffee-cup count. "We expecting company,
Bones?"
"Just those
two." McCoy nodded down the walk as Uhura and Spock walked up.
Uhura hid a smile
as she took in the three of them. Spock's expression was one of Vulcanish shock. McCoy could feel his lip sliding up on the
side into the smile that used to piss off his mother—he knew it was bad and
wrong of him to enjoy Spock's discomfort, but damn he did.
"Nobody get up," he murmured. "It's all fine. We're here. They're
here. No secrets."
"You couldn't
have run this by us?" Jim sounded almost panicked.
"Nope."
"You're an
ass," Christine said, but there wasn't much energy in her voice, and she
pushed her head against his hand harder as if to take the sting out of her
words.
"Captain. Doctor.
Nurse."
"And the baker
and candlestick-maker, too, if we're lucky, Spock." McCoy nodded at the
vacant chairs around the table. "Take a load off and have some coffee. It's
not something you avoid, is it, Spock?"
"I
occasionally indulge," Spock said, as Uhura practically pushed him into
one of the chairs.
"So, this is
your house?" Uhura grinned at him in a way that said she was both amused
and a little bit embarrassed. But mostly enjoying herself—at their expense. Probably
felt good for her to suddenly be the one in the more traditional relationship.
"I'll give
you a tour later, Nyota. It's been in my family for ages." He played a
little more aggressively with Christine's hair. "We've been enjoying
ourselves here."
"So it would appear." Spock didn't meet their eyes.
"Oh for God's sake, Spock. Just find your green-blooded
gonads and ask us what the hell is going on here."
"It is quite
apparent, Doctor, what is going on here."
"Well, okay,
then. You know. She knows. We all know. It's out there. Let's move on."
"To moving
on," Uhura said, holding up her mug and failing to hide a grin. She
glanced at Jim. "You're uncharacteristically quiet."
"Just wasn't
expecting this." But Jim didn't get up. He didn't push Christine's legs off.
In fact, he put his coffee back on the table, then leaned back and stretched
one arm out until his hand rested on McCoy's. He rubbed Christine's feet with
the other.
That was why McCoy
loved the man: in for a penny, in for a goddamned pound.
He let the moment
be, let Spock take it in, enjoyed the feeling of Jim's hand on him. Then he
said, "So, there's this new vegetarian restaurant run by a friend of mine,
Spock. She's thrilled at the idea of cooking lunch for you. The three of us
sort of...skipped breakfast. I know I'm famished."
Jim and Christine
echoed with versions of "Me, too."
Spock took a deep
breath, and for a moment, McCoy thought he might get up and leave. Spock
glanced at Uhura, who smiled gently at him. Then he glanced at Jim, and studied
him.
"Something
you want to say, Spock?"
"A question. Are
you happy?"
Jim smiled. A real
smile, if still a little uncomfortable. "I am."
Uhura nudged
Spock. "There are others in this equation."
"I only have
to look at them to know they are enjoying this."
McCoy thought that
was probably the most diplomatic way Spock could say that he didn't give a
rat's ass how they felt. Which was good for Jim, actually. To have another
friend. Someone he wasn't sleeping with.
Jim needed all the
friends he could get.
But then Spock met
McCoy's eyes. "I am...happy for you. All of
you."
Christine laughed
softly. "Ny's rubbing off on you, Spock."
"Undoubtedly
so, Christine." He seemed to finally settle, reached for the coffee and
sipped it.
McCoy felt
something inside him relax, too. He smiled and closed his eyes. The birds were
singing. He could smell the gardenias in the planters. And the soft breeze
wafted over them.
He'd never felt
more at home.
FIN