Title: Four Holiday Traditions That Have Been Banned From the Enterprise (and One That Hasn't)
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Kirk/McCoy
Warnings: Equal parts cracky and schmoopy.
Word Count: around 2000
Summary: Pretty much what it says on the label.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N : Thanks and love, as always, to my darling ennui_blue_lite for the readthrough. Written for pb_jwaffles, one of the winners of last week's drabble challenge. Her chosen prompt was "Holiday traditions that have been banned from the Enterprise."
ETA: HUGE THANK YOU to linelenagain (and weepingnaiad too) who correctly pointed out that of COURSE Jim was shirtless in a certain scene, so I edited the fic to reflect that undeniable truth. You'll see when you get there.
As if Jim weren't already enough of an oversexed idiot, during their first Christmas aboard the Enterprise, he had to go and get Scotty to tweak the replicators so that they could produce mistletoe. Which he then proceeded to hang all over the ship, using medical tape he stole from sickbay. Bones was grumpy enough on a good day, but being accosted by random crew members who wanted to plant one on him (a kiss, not a mistletoe shoot) was enough to test the patience of a saint, and he was no saint. After all, a body wanted to choose who he kissed and who he didn't, and he really had no desire to find out that Lieutenant Rodriguez used the same perfume that Jocelyn did, if in subtler amounts, and he really didn't want to know that Scotty was apparently in the habit of knocking a few back while on duty, if his breath was anything to go by. All their lives were in his crazy-ass hands, after all, and sometimes ignorance was bliss.
But the crowning touch for Bones' holidays that year was when, on Christmas day, he was called to Jim's quarters for an "emergency," and discovered that apparently Jim was allergic to mistletoe. Why Jim hadn't had a reaction when he hung the goddamn plants was a mystery to him, although it wouldn't surprise him if Jim had had a reaction and just ignored it because he hated seeking medical treatment, and would've just brushed itchy, red hands off as a minor nuisance. But it wasn't a minor nuisance anymore, not when it was everywhere on his body. And Bones did mean everywhere. But when he'd treated all of the visible rash and then Jim sheepishly told him that there was more, and it turned out to be inside his rectum, Bones really lost it.
"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING, JIM?"
"Um, Bones, I kind of think you're better off not knowing."
And really, he was right. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.
It was beyond McCoy why anyone would want to eat those disgusting marshmallow baby chickens. Really, they were foul-tasting, and they had absolutely no redeeming nutritional value, so he couldn't understand why you'd want to choke even one down. Jim, apparently, had eaten fifty-two.
"It was a dare Bones and I couldn't look like a wimp in front of my entire bridge crew could I? No of course I couldn't man then it would get all over the federation that Captain James T. Kirk couldn't even win a silly little bet with his navigator and I'd be the laughingstock of the 'Fleet. And he's only what - eighteen now? Nineteen? I lose track but the point is he's practically a child and has those curls and those pink cheeks and that silly accent that makes everyone swoon and anyway he's just about the most adorable thing anyone has ever seen and he bet me he could eat more Peeps than me and I just couldn't let that go only wow, that kid has got an appetite on him and - "
"JIM, SHUT THE HELL UP."
Jim blinked at him, and stopped talking, but then his knee started bouncing. And then his toes were tapping. And then he was on his feet and pacing around Bones' office like a tiger in a cage. Bones rolled his eyes. Of course the crew would dump Jim on him when he was in this condition. He'd received an urgent medical call to the bridge from Spock and raced there only to find a hyperactive-five-year-old version of Jim, behavior-wise, not that this was radically different from his usual demeanor. Apparently in his fit of glucose-induced energy he'd tried to recalibrate the ship's sensors, reprogram the helm interface, boost the ship's comm capability, and just generally managed to tick off everyone on the bridge.
So now, apparently, hyperactive Jim was his problem. Just great. He'd checked Jim's blood sugar, and while it was high, it wasn't medically dangerous, so the best thing to do was wait it out.
He eyed Jim warily. Jim had stopped pacing aimlessly, and was now heading towards him with definite intent. What the hell was he up to now? And then, suddenly, he had his answer when he found himself with a lap full of Jim Kirk, and a very enthusiastic tongue was introducing itself to his own.
The kiss went on for perhaps longer than McCoy should have allowed, given Jim's... compromised condition, but he'd been wanting this for longer than he cared to admit. When Jim finally pulled back, McCoy felt distinctly dazed, but Jim's blue eyes were sparkling at him, just like they always did when he was particularly happy. "Wow, that was amazing Bones, you're such a good kisser but then I knew you would be because you're so focused and intent and oh my god those lips of yours you wouldn't believe how many fantasies I've had about what you could do with that mouth, well and your hands too you have incredible hands and - "
At this point McCoy shut him up again by the simple expedient of grabbing him by the back of his neck and pulling him back in for another long, deep kiss.
That was the last year that marshmallow peeps were allowed on the Enterprise, but nobody really missed them.
Halloween was a holiday whose roots stretched so far back into antiquity that no one really remembered anymore why it was celebrated. But naturally, Jim and a fair portion of the crew seized any opportunity they could to dress up in costumes and act like overgrown children. McCoy had already decreed that there would be no candy given out for Halloween, and remembering the marshmallow peeps incident, the bridge crew had staunchly backed him up, much to Jim's disgruntlement.
But Jim, never one to be deterred for long, had quickly come up with an alternate plan, "bobbing for apples," which apparently was an old tradition involving multiple people sticking their faces into a tub of water with a bunch of apples floating in it. A more disgusting, unsanitary practice McCoy could not imagine, and he wanted no part of it. He couldn't believe that anyone else would actually participate in Jim's ridiculous game, either. So it was a surprise to him when Nurse Chapel came into sickbay to tell him that nearly all of the off-duty crew members had gathered in the observation deck where Jim was demonstrating the procedure. She'd said that he might want to go take a look for himself, and when Christine used that tone of voice, he knew better than to argue with her.
Usually the observation deck was nearly empty, with only the vast blackness of space to keep you company. God damn, he hated it here. But today - well, today it was absolutely stuffed full with people, jostling with each other to get a view of whatever was going on at the center of the room. Grumbling about fool's errands, McCoy liberally applied his elbows to the crew members unlucky enough to be in his path. He burst through the last of the crowd to the front row, and his jaw dropped.
Jim was on his knees, shirtless, his hands tied behind his back, leaning over a bucket of water with his mouth wide open and his head bobbing up and down as he tried to grab an apple with his teeth. He apparently thought that he could coax one of the apples closer using his tongue, because he kept sticking it out and licking them, which only caused them to float further away. To say that Jim's position and actions were suggestive would be the biggest goddamned understatement of all time.
McCoy was instantly hard as a rock. Looking around at the glazed expression on the faces of the crewmembers around him - the mostly male crewmembers, now that he was paying attention - he had no doubt that most of them were in a similar state. He growled, and stepped forward. Jim looked up at him, half-naked on his knees and with his hands tied, and said "Oh, hey, Bones," in that husky, sex-soaked voice of his. An audible groan arose throughout the room.
Bones wasted no time in pulling Jim to his feet and hustling him out of the observation deck, and this time the look on his face was scary enough that a path cleared itself as he was walking back through the crowd. Jim was spluttering and protesting, but he ignored it completely. Jim's arms never did get untied that night, and by the time Bones was done with him, Jim thoroughly understood that Bones was the only one who got to see him in that position.
When Jim cheerfully announced via ship-wide comm the next day that there would be no more bobbing for apples, on the CMO's orders, well, McCoy had tested near the bottom of the psi-scale, but even he could feel the waves of disappointment reverberating throughout the ship. He whistled a little during his shift that day, and Christine just looked at him knowingly.
The less said about the New Year's Eve party where they'd consumed enough champagne to float the Enterprise, the better. He had only vague recollections of that night, but apparently he and Jim had put on quite the show. All he knew was that he'd woken up naked in the rec room where the celebration had been held, wrapped around an equally naked Jim. To Jim's delighted amusement and McCoy's deep embarrassment, he spent the subsequent several weeks on the receiving end of numerous impressed and speculative looks from various crewmembers. From then on, Bones and Jim didn't drink on New Year's Eve - well, not until they were back in Jim's quarters to have their own, private celebration.
Bones stomped up to the bridge, finally capitulating to Jim's annoyingly persistent summons. Summonses. Or however you said that. He had work to do, dammit; he was a doctor, not a yeoman. Whatever Jim wanted, he had no doubt it could've waited at least until their lunch break. So when he exited the turbolift, he threw Jim a distinctly irritated look. Jim just grinned at him, although - was there a hint of nervousness behind his eyes? He looked around at the rest of the bridge crew. Spock was looking even more stoic than usual, Sulu and Chekov were trying to hide smiles, and Uhura's eyes were suspiciously bright. What the hell was going on? Some new alien contagion?
He turned back to Jim for an explanation. But instead, he got a question.
"Bones, do you know what day it is back on earth?"
"No, Jim, I've got no idea. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"It's February 14th."
"Also known as Valentine's Day? Maybe you've heard of it?"
"Oh, yeah, another opportunity for crass commercialism and for pissing off your significant other by getting them the wrong gift, or, god forbid, no gift at all." He folded his arms. "What's your point?"
"Well, Bones, it also happens to be the day, back on Earth, when the most marriage proposals are made."
Only he had an answer to his question, because Jim was sinking to one knee, reaching for his hand, and looking up at him like he was every good dream he'd ever had, all rolled into one. McCoy could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment, and then it was racing double-time. It was so loud in his ears, in fact, that he nearly missed Jim's next words.
"Bones, you're the love of my life. Will you do me the honor of being my husband?"
He gulped. Then he had to swallow a few more times until he could work up the ability to answer. "Yeah, you moron, 'course I will."
The bridge crew erupted into cheers, but he barely noticed as Jim rose to his feet and reached for him. He'd never in a million years admit it, but this was the kind of holiday tradition he could get behind.