Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,

  • Mood:

Trek Fic: A Dismal Thing To Do (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)

Title: A Dismal Thing To Do (Part 25 of To Talk of Many Things)
Authors: mga1999 and skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: Around 8000
Summary: The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. A party, a fight, and a decidedly naughty interlude at a tailor shop. Not necessarily in that order.
A/N: From skyblue_reverie: Psst! Have you noticed how we're coaxing Jude out of hiding? She's like answering comments and being social and stuff! Keep up the good work, bbs! *high fives you all* From mga1999: Ummmm *needs to find a much bigger potted plant and a new corner* *sneaks away*

Click here for series masterlist with links to all prior parts

Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy

Friday 2260.173

Huh, this journaling business is kind of addictive, once you get going. I can see now why Jim does it all the time. Of course I still think he's in love with the sound of his own voice.

We're back at the hotel now, and Chris is taking a nap before we get ready for his parents' anniversary party later tonight. We spent the morning shopping in Palm Beach. Well, the morning actually started before that, when Chris woke me up with his mouth on my dick. I was half-asleep for most of it, and damn if that didn't make it even hotter, being on the edge between sleep and waking while he sucked me off. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming at first. I'm sure that because of that, my reactions were less inhibited than usual. It's probably good that it's sort of hazy in my memory or I'd be embarrassed about it.

Afterward, though, Chris was definitely worn out. He was getting the lube and acting like he was planning to fuck me, but he was out of breath, and a little dizzy too, judging from the way he was moving. I made him sit down, which I could tell he resented. I tried to go down on him, but he was having none of it. He said he was going to fuck me. And he was using that goddamned stubborn voice that says he's made up his mind and doesn't want to hear any backtalk. His captain's voice. I decided to call his bluff. I got on the bed, ass in the air, looked at him over my shoulder and said fine, go for it, since he was just fine and dandy. He scowled and cursed and said never mind, now that the mood had been ruined. He was in a snit, that's for sure, but it was worth it because I think he might've passed out if he'd tried anything strenuous at that moment. I got up and showered and by the time I got out, he seemed to be feeling better physically, and his mood seemed a bit better too. He kissed me and apologized for being an asshole.

I think his pride was still a bit wounded, though, because he was definitely in a bossy mood. He picked out my clothes for the day - not that I minded, since his fashion sense is better than mine, and I don't really care what I wear as long as it's appropriate for the climate. Then he announced that we'd be going to his tailor and that he was going to get me some custom-made suits and he didn't want to hear a word of protest. It would have been obnoxious except that there was just a hint of insecurity underneath. So I just smiled and said that just for this shore leave, if he wanted to spoil me rotten I wouldn't object. That seemed to make him feel better, and he was in good spirits heading to Palm Beach.

We had a late breakfast once we got there, at a cafe practically on the beach, overlooking the ocean. We got an outside patio table, and I'm not sure I want to know how Chris managed that, since the place was packed, but I'd promised no complaints about him spoiling me, so I didn't say anything. The view was beautiful, that's for damn sure. He ordered for both of us, to my amusement. We had a European-style breakfast, a big plate of fruit, cheese, croissants and mini-baguettes that we shared. Plus plenty of fresh coffee with cream and sugar. Everything real, nothing replicated, of course. Chris warned me again about the press likely to be at the party. I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll cope.

After breakfast, we had some time to kill before the appointment he'd made with the tailor, so we just strolled through the downtown shopping district, hand in hand. We got a few appreciative looks, not sure if it was because people recognized Chris or just because he's so damn gorgeous, but no one approached us. Mostly, we just blended into the crowd, which was fine by me. With Chris's input, I picked out a gift for his parents' anniversary, a hand-made blown-glass vase. I got Grandma Kathleen a blown-glass rose, which I think she'll like. For Annie, as a thank-you for all she did for the Georgia place, I got a solid glass half-globe, the kind of thing they used to call a paperweight, back when there were actual papers to be weighted down, I guess. Anyway, it's got a real desert lily set in it. It's a flower native to the Mojave desert, and Chris says it's Annie's favorite flower. It's good to have people in my life to get things for. I've missed that.

Then, after that, we headed off to Chris's tailor. I hadn't realized quite what I was getting myself in for. It was an upscale private shop, and the tailor, Signore Enzo (and yes, that's really what he goes by), closed up as soon as we got there, so he could devote his full attention to us, he said. We went to a back room that had a platform in the middle with full-length mirrors set up in a semi-circle surrounding it. Signore Enzo had me get up on the platform and strip down to my skivvies, and that was embarrassing as hell. Then it got worse, as he and Chris started discussing me as if I wasn't standing right there. They were talking about what fabrics and styles would suit me best, and I think I was turning redder and redder every second. Finally they finished their discussion, Signore Enzo took about a million different measurements, and then Chris told him to go take a nice long lunch break. He just gave Chris a knowing look and said that he'd be sure to take his time. I swear I thought my head was going to explode.

As soon as he locked the door behind him, I turned to Chris and gave him a piece of my mind. I was really working myself up into a good rant when I got suspicious. I checked my ring, and sure enough, it was purple again. God damn it, what's the point of getting up a good head of steam and tearing into someone if they're just going to sit there and enjoy it? That kinda took the wind out of my sails, and so while I was just standing there with my arms crossed, fuming silently at Chris, he smiled and told me in that command-steel voice to take off my briefs. I sputtered, but damn it, there's no arguing with him in that mood, so I did what he said. I was already getting hard, which of course did not escape his notice. He didn't gloat, though, for which I was unspeakably grateful. He pulled a packet of lube out of his pocket, tossed it to me, and told me to face the mirrors and touch myself, while he sat in his armchair behind me and watched. His chair was set at just the perfect angle so that I could see him clearly in the mirrors, as well as seeing myself from every possible angle. Good lord, it was embarrassing and incredibly hot at the same time.

He sat there, cool and composed, and of course, completely dressed, while I was up there on the platform, totally naked, touching myself at his direction. He told me when to start, when to stop, when to speed up or slow down. He had me play with my nipples, my balls, and suck on my fingers while he watched. I don't think I've ever been so flustered and so aroused at the same time. Good god, the things that man does to me. I could see he was incredibly hard, but he didn't so much as touch himself or even glance down at his own erection. He just focused on me, on making me give myself pleasure. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he let me come. For the grand finale, he had me shoot into my hand and then lick it all up while we both watched in the mirror. God, the groan he let out when I was lapping up my own semen from my palm.

Afterwards, I felt almost lightheaded. I can't even really describe it. I'm sure it was due to a massive rush of endorphins, but I've never felt anything like it. I felt like I was floating on air, like I could do anything at that moment. God damn, I just had a thought - I wonder if that's how Jim feels when he faces down danger and wins? I'd just about bet my medical license on it. Hell, I can understand a bit better now why he's constantly throwing himself into harm's way. It's an incredible feeling, seductive and powerful and I'd be willing to bet it's pretty damn addictive. He needs to find a way to feel like that without actually putting his life in danger. I'll have to think on that. Anyway, enough about Jim.

My legs were a bit wobbly after I came, so Chris had me straddle his lap where he was sitting in the armchair and we kissed and he stroked me all over, gently petting and touching me. Fuck, it was unbelievable - so tender and intimate. He said he loved me and he was proud of me for indulging him like that even though he knew it wasn't easy for me. I offered to get him off but he said no, he wanted to save it for later. To tell the truth, I was getting nervous about Signore Enzo showing up at any moment, so I didn't argue with him. I got back into my boxer-briefs, found the bathroom and washed up a bit. Luckily the air circ system in the shop was good, because by the time I got out of the bathroom it didn't even smell like sex anymore. Thank god. That would have been too humiliating for words. Anyway, Chris said that Signore Enzo had all the information he needed, and that we could go whenever we wanted. So I got dressed and we left. The door locked automatically behind us. I'm sure Signore Enzo knows what we were up to, which I don't want to think about too hard, but we didn't leave any sign of it and at least I didn't have to face him again afterwards. I don't think I'll ever be able to see him again without turning beet red. Chris is having the suits delivered to our place in San Francisco, since they'll probably take several weeks to be made. I don't even want to know how much it's going to cost. Probably better that I don't ask.

After that, we did a bit more shopping, had to evade a photographer, and had lunch at a fantastic Cuban restaurant. Then we were both a bit tired, so we headed back to the hotel and now, like I said, Chris is taking a nap. Maybe I'll lie down and join him for a bit. I'm sure I'll need all my wits about me for dealing with the crowds at the party this evening.

Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike

Saturday 2260.174

It's 0200 and Len just slipped out of the room. I woke up when the door slid shut. I was disoriented for a minute and it took me back to another place and time. When being in a hotel room would mean that I'd just picked someone up for the night and either they or I would be gone by morning.

I started to panic a bit, considering -- Well, Len and I had quite a fight when we got back to the hotel after the party. Luckily, my panic didn't last long because he left a PADD on the nightstand with a note that he couldn't sleep and went to swim laps.

I hope it's just nerves about going home tomorrow and not because he's still upset from the fight. I thought everything was okay. I suppose I should back up.

The whole thing was my fault. I was in a mood from the time I woke up. My plans this morning didn't go very well. I did suck Len off, but when I was done with that -- Well, since I was finally honest to him earlier -- I felt like shit. I was dizzy and having trouble catching my breath. And when Len made me sit down and implied he was going to go down on me instead -- Well, I didn't take that very well. So it made me even more determined to fuck him. Pissed, he got up on all fours and egged me on. I may have yelled and told him he ruined the mood and he muttered under his breath and went to take a shower.

By the time he came out, I'd had some juice and felt a little better. I apologized, but I know -- Well, I think I pretty much spent the entire day ordering him around. And shit if he didn't humor me. I may have taken advantage of that just a bit. I did let him drive us there, only because I still didn't feel that great. We had breakfast overlooking the water and then walked around to kill time before the appointment. I have to say, it was incredible walking through town with Len, hand in hand. I've never really done that before with anyone on Earth in public like that, not even my wife. That was another issue we had. She didn't like the press following our every move. In San Francisco, other than the wedding, Len and I have never been out in public together. This is all new to me. But I have to admit, I liked it.

I spent so many of my younger years avoiding being seen with anyone in public, and going to great lengths to ensure my privacy. Because anyone I was seen with became gossip fodder, and it's kind of hard when you've had one date with someone and the next day it's splashed across the gossipnet, 'Playboy Pike has new flavor of the month.' Or even worse, when there are quotes from 'close friends' that say it's serious and you've been seeing the person in secret for six months. According to the tabloids, I once had a year-long relationship with someone I'd never even met. You tend to not get a second date with anyone who isn't seeking that kind of attention in the first place. While it luckily weeds those types out, no one in their right mind would put up with that kind of intense scrutiny.

I guess that might be part of my mood. I'm worried about Len. And how he will react to the press tonight. And while I know they will leave him alone, it's not going to stop the headlines and the holos splashed across newsnets all over the universe. I don't think he realizes sometimes what he's signed on for with me. And I dread the day when I can't keep the press off him like I can at a private invite-only party. Or the day he finds out about my pretty colorful past. We may need to have that discussion soon.

But back to Palm Beach. I took him to a tailor I've used since I can remember. My family has used them for generations. Signore Enzo's family is from the house of Armani from hundreds of years ago in Italy. He still makes suits the old fashioned way, and there is nothing better. The fabrics aren't replicated; they aren't sewn automatically by a robo-machine. Signore Enzo still uses a good old-fashioned sewing machine. There is something to be said for that kind of devotion to your craft. To me, the suits I get from him are well worth every credit spent.

I made this appointment with Enzo months ago. I never expected it to go quite like it did, but when Len admitted to me his fantasy about public sex -- I just couldn't resist. It was amusing, watching his little tirade after I ordered Enzo to leave, and how quickly he stopped when he realized I was getting off on it. As much as I love the crystals and our matching rings, I would have had much more fun if he hadn't figured it out so soon. Frankly, I'm surprised he went along with it, but God, I'm glad he did. I wish I had thought to tape it, but it's something I will never forget. Watching him, ordering him to do whatever I told him. I kept waiting for him to stop it, but he didn't. It certainly was the hottest thing I've ever seen.

We shopped a bit more after. I picked up some clothes better suited for Georgia. He didn't even flinch when I told him to grab a few things. I guess he meant it when he said he was going to let me spoil him this trip. He might be sorry for giving me carte blanche for our shore leave. There was one 'damn vulture' as Len calls them across the street when we came out, several bags in our arms. I can imagine the headlines tomorrow, but I'm hoping the party tonight will squelch them some. Luckily, he was on foot so we managed to lose him and I took Len to this little Cuban place that I love for lunch. They make the best ropa vieja on the planet.

Len could tell I was tired after that, so he talked me into coming back to Boca, and I slept until shortly before it was time to get ready for the anniversary party. I'm glad my parents didn't make it black tie. Not that I wouldn't want to see Len in a tuxedo, but he was nervous enough. It was still formal, and he wore that same suit as he did to the wedding last week. I had a hard time keeping my hands off him all night. I made sure I had my hand on him most of the time, but I was more mindful, not wanting to give the reporters more fodder than they'd already have.

It was a beautiful evening, though. My mother was stunning -- most women would kill to look as good as she still does at close to eighty. The gold beaded dress she wore -- My father couldn't take his eyes off of her. I have to admit, I got kind of teary when he spoke of his love or her. Fifty-five years together and they are just as much in love as when they were young. I never thought I'd have a chance at anything like they do -- But now, I feel like that's finally possible for me.

Of course, not if I keep doing idiotic things. Like what I did this week about my medication. To make a long story short, Philip commed Len to let him know -- Well, that I was probably not following doctors orders. I don't know when he got the comm, but when we got back to the hotel, he disappeared into the bathroom while I pulled off my tie and slipped out of my shoes.

I should have known something was wrong when I saw the look on his face when he came out of the bathroom. I honestly thought he was just overwhelmed from the party. There were a lot of people to meet. Fifty or so relatives in all, including a lot of my relations from Australia. Another hundred or so family friends and dignitaries. I could see Len eyeing the reporters and wincing at the flashes all night. Hell, it was a lot to take in. God bless my grandmother though, and Annie too. They kept the worst of the family gossips from Len. It's amazing how fast my grandmother can get across the room at her age. I tried not to leave Len alone, but it was nearly impossible, with so much family to talk to. In fact, I should have taken some of them being here into account when we made our plans. I promised my great-uncle and his wife that we'd meet them for a late breakfast in the morning. It's the least I can do since he's running the family winery.

Yes, I'm avoiding talking about the fight. Or more to the point, my complete and utter stupidity. I swear it was like being in a holomovie where you watch the character and you can't believe how stupid they are, except it was me in the starring role. And the words that were coming out of my mouth? Fuck. Did I mention I am an idiot?

Len played it cool. He mentioned that Philip had sent him a comm, wondering how I was doing. How the sleeping meds were interacting with the others, and whether they were still bothering my stomach. I brushed Len off, telling him that I had sent Philip a comm about my medications, and that Philip was just being a worrywart as usual.

It wasn't a lie, it was evasion. I'm good at it. Apparently not with Len though, because then the yelling started. Boy he can really fly off the handle, and I was glad the rooms were soundproof or security probably would have been called, and wouldn't those headlines have been fun. Right.

When he was in the bathroom, he had checked the medicine kit Philip had sent with me. He obviously saw that there was a heck of a lot more medication left in a couple of the vials than there should have been. When he told me as much, I may have said something to the effect that it was my body and I'm intelligent enough to know what I can do, and it was my decision. Boy, was that the wrong thing to say to him. I swear his eyes BULGED out of his head. I can't even remember half the things that came out of his mouth because I was busy yelling too. At one point I told him he had no right to tell me what to do, and who did he think he was? The look on his face was like I slapped him. Honestly, the moment I'd said it I wanted to take it right back. But after he recovered, he yelled back that he was first and foremost a doctor and that he was taking over my medical care while we were on shore leave since I was a goddamn idiot. It got worse from there.

It wasn't pretty. I'm not proud of it. We both said some things we shouldn't have in the heat of the moment. And then because he had the audacity to tell me that I could hardly walk right now, I grabbed him and pushed him down on the table and showed him not only could I walk just fine, I could also fuck him senseless.

Fuck, it was hot. It was totally wrong, but he's strong enough that he could have kicked my ass if he wanted to. I shoved him over and cupped him, unzipping his pants and pulling them and his briefs down. I was already so hard from the fighting in the first place. I unzipped my pants, not even bothering to unbutton, and pulled my cock out. I remember telling him I was going to show him how fine I was. I was so fired up. I reached around and grabbed him and he was completely hard. He was just as turned on as I was, panting. I leaned over next to his ear, biting it, and asked him if he wanted it, and then bit the side of his neck hard, leaving a mark. I remember him crying out Jesus, Chris. God, he was desperate for it, and as I sucked on his neck I jerked my hips into him and asked him again if he wanted it. He finally answered, gasping, Goddamnit, Chris. Yes.

I didn't prep him as much as I should have, just grabbed the lube from the table, slicked myself up, and shoved my way in. I pushed him down flat on the table, holding him down with one arm, my other on his hip as I pounded into him. The sounds we were both making, the slapping sound as I fucked him. I know I said some pretty filthy things to him. It was -- fuck. I was completely out of it, and I don't even remember half of it. I don't know how I found the energy or how I stayed standing. I suppose it was adrenaline from the fight. I remember letting go of his hip, pulling him up by the collar of the suit and grabbing his cock and roughly jerking him off. He came fast and hard, and then I followed, both of us falling forward to the table, me panting, gulping air, lying on his back. As I caught my breath, I started to panic. What the hell had I just done? Was it too much? Did I hurt him? But a second later, Len laced his fingers through mine and squeezed, and I knew it was all right.

Once I caught my breath enough to stand, I slid out, rubbing his back. I took a few steps backwards and fell on the bed when the back of my knees hit it. So I lay there, in my fancy suit, my soft dick sticking out of my pants -- My mind was racing and then I heard rustling and Len was obviously pulling his pants up and then he disappeared into the bathroom. I'll admit, I was scared shitless I'd gone too far. Or said something unforgivable. I heard the shower start and part of me wanted to go and join him, but I honestly didn't know if he'd want me in there. So I got undressed, cleaned myself up a bit and crawled into bed.

I was an utter and complete fool. I had no idea what I was going to say to him when he came out. If he was willing to even talk when he came out. I wouldn't have been surprised if he walked out on me, with some of the things I'd said. I guess we both said things. Ten minutes later, he came out, and I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was sleeping. I heard him come over to the bed and set something on the nightstand next to me. He then told me he knew I wasn't asleep and to sit up. When I did, I looked over to see my med kit. He was loading hyposprays. I opened my mouth to protest and he gave me the look. Fuck, he has an intimidating look. I guess he meant what he said earlier about taking over my medical care. I sighed and lifted my chin up, giving him access to my neck. He quickly went through the series of injections before packing them up.

The worst part? He didn't say a thing after that. Nothing. He just took my med kit back to the bathroom, ordered the lights off, and crawled into bed with me. Of course, his silence spoke volumes. I knew he was disappointed in me. As much as I still wanted to argue with him about what I did, I knew it would be pointless.

Finally, he turned on his side and wrapped his arm across my stomach and I wanted to just weep. I think he realized with my shuddering breath -- Well, I was quickly losing control. He tightened his grip around me. I told him I was sorry. He said the same, and then I asked him if I hurt him, and thank god he answered no. I then got a mini-lecture about taking care of myself. His voice was soft, but I knew he meant business. He told me that I was going to be doing a heck of a lot of resting in Georgia. I started to open my mouth to protest, but he put his finger on my lips.

For the first time yesterday, I did something smart. I shut up. I fell asleep pretty quickly after that.

Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy

Saturday 2260.174

Jesus Christ, I'm not even sure what just happened or how I feel about it. We went to his parents' anniversary party. It was fine. I'll write more about that another time, but I can't deal with it right now.

On the way back to the hotel after the party, I got a comm from Philip warning me that Chris had been asking him which of his meds he could safely cut out. The answer, of course, is none of them, but Philip had a feeling Chris hadn't been complying with his drug regimen. I checked the bathroom when we got back to our room, and of course Philip was right.

I asked Chris about it, and he tried to give me some bullshit about Philip being a worrywart, and said that he was fine. But I noticed he hadn't actually answered my question. God damn, he's a slippery one when he wants to be. So I pushed him harder, and then he said that it was his decision and he was smart enough to know what medications he could do without for a short period.

Well, that set me off. I yelled, he yelled back. He said he already had a mother and he didn't need another one, that I was his lover not his caretaker. I told him I was also a doctor and that as smart as he was, he could be a damn fool when it came to his own well-being. He told me he'd done it for us, because he wanted to be able to keep up with me this shore leave. I told him I sure as hell didn't ask him to destroy his own health for my sake, and he said, "Oh, so you'd be fine then, if I just slept for the next two weeks straight and we didn't have sex once? Maybe you'd even prefer it? Are you getting sick of your old, broken-down lover already?"

God damn it. How could I answer that? I was damned either way. So I told him to stop twisting me up with words, and said that right now, he was so weak he could barely stand. I knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out of my mouth, and it wasn't even true. With the adrenaline from the fight, not only was he doing just fine standing up, he probably could've run a mile as well. Then I noticed that he was completely hard, and he had that look in his eye that says he's about to bend me over the nearest surface and fuck me into oblivion. I looked at my ring and it was purple and red swirled together. Never seen it that way before. God, the passion between us, it just flares up, and it's like neither of us can resist it. As soon as I noticed how aroused he was, I wanted him so badly. I was aching for him, even though I was still so pissed at him that I wanted to shake him.

He knew I wanted it, too. Hell, he made me tell him so. He pushed me down, bent me over the table, and fucked me. That's the only word there is for it. It wasn't making love, that's for sure. Dear god, we were both so completely desperate for it, for each other. He was pounding into me, harder than he ever has before. The things he was saying, right in my ear, were so goddamned hot and dirty -- "I know you love it like this, Len. You love to bend over and take my cock just like this. I could make you beg me for it, couldn't I? How's this? Hard enough? Am I strong enough for you? Fuck, you're like a bitch in heat for me. You want me to fuck you raw, don't you? You want me to break you in, keep going until your ass is swollen and bleeding. I know you want it."

He went on and on like that. I could hear these helpless little whimpering noises that I was making, and I know I've never sounded like that before with anyone. I was pushing back against him, wanting him harder, deeper, even though it hurt like hell, or maybe because it hurt like hell. Fuck, I don't know. He jerked me off roughly and I practically came apart, then he was coming into me and collapsing over my back as the adrenaline rush wore off.

For a few moments, it was like we were both frozen, not knowing what the hell to say or do next. But I -- well, I guess I just needed to connect to him, to know we were okay, so I reached out and squeezed his hand. Then he pulled out, rubbed my back a little, and collapsed backward onto the bed. I didn't trust myself to even look at him right then. I didn't know what might come out of my mouth, whether I'd tell him that he wasn't old and broken down and of course I still wanted him, or tear him a new one for being so cavalier with his health. And I didn't know what the hell to say about what we'd just done, the fight and the sex. So I just went into the bathroom, took a shower, and tried to calm down a bit.

I said a lot of idiotic things during that fight, but there's one thing that I absolutely meant. From now on, I'm going to make damn sure that he's taking his meds. Damn it, I should have seen this coming, should have been more vigilant before this. Shit, with the way he was fucking around with his dosages he could have seriously screwed up his long-term rehab prognosis. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he needs a goddamn keeper, and whether he likes it or not, I'm appointing myself, at least when I'm around to do it. And when I'm not, I'm going to keep in close contact with Philip so I know that someone's keeping an eye on him.

When I got out of the bathroom, he was doing a spectacularly bad job of pretending to be asleep. I had his meds with me. I told him to sit up and I gave him all his meds via hypospray. I still didn't know what on earth to say. He actually opened his mouth and was about to argue with me at one point. After all that, he was still going to argue. Stubborn bastard. He's met his match in that department, though, because I gave him one look and he reconsidered. Smart man.

Anyway, then I turned off the lights and got in bed. The way he was breathing, I could tell he was trying not to break down. So I reached over and pulled him to me. I think I ranted at him about taking better care of himself, and stopped him when he tried to say something back. He fell asleep almost immediately. I couldn't sleep, though. I'm all tangled up in knots.

Partly about what happened - I mean, fuck, it was hot but it was all kinds of wrong as well. But also about going back to Georgia tomorrow to face those ghosts, and about being at his parents' anniversary party, seeing a couple who's been together 55 years and is obviously still completely in love. Do I have a shot at that with Chris? God, I hope so, but I don't know. Apart from everything else, the life expectancy of a starship captain... well, let's just say Chris has already exceeded it. By a significant margin. Maybe he can continue to beat the odds. But damn it, not if he doesn't take better care of himself. I don't know how to impress upon him how goddamn important he is to me, how it hurts me when he puts himself at risk. I know he read Jim the riot act about that exact same thing, so why can't he take his own advice? Jesus Christ, what is it with me and my penchant for the noble, self-sacrificing jackasses of the world?

I couldn't sleep, all of that rolling around in my mind. I went downstairs to swim some laps, leaving Chris a note. Now I'm here sitting in the hotel bar again. At least since it's Friday night -- Saturday morning, now, I suppose -- they're staying open later, and not trying to kick me out of here. There's quite a few people here; I guess it's a popular hangout for the well-heeled. Shit, I just noticed on the newsnet screen behind the bar, they're showing some holos from the party earlier tonight, and the crawl is about me and Chris. "Narada hero and notorious playboy Pike plays sugar daddy to his latest conquest." Oh good lord. Like I'm some empty-headed bimbo who's just hanging on his arm for the notoriety or something. At least they didn't mention my name. Oh, wonderful. Now the crawl says "Noted surgeon Leonard McCoy falls for the dashing older man; can they make it work? Full story after the break." Why the hell is everyone so caught up in the age difference? Even Chris seems to worry about it all the time. I just love him. I don't give a good goddamn how old he is. In fact, given our family genetic histories, it's likely that he'll outlive me, if he makes a basic effort to keep himself healthy. Like, say, taking his goddamned medicines.

All right. Now I'm going in circles. I need sleep. Hell, I need Chris. I need to be near him. So why am I acting like a goddamned moron and sitting down here when I could be in his arms? And why am I asking goddamned rhetorical questions to my goddamned journal? Good god, Leonard, get a grip.

Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy

Saturday 2260.174

Oh lord, I'm sore. I think I've swum enough laps to make it to the moon and back, just during these last few days. It's helped clear my head, though.

When I got back to the room last night, Chris was up. Looked like he was doing his own journal entry. Good god, the way he looked at me when I came in, it was sheer relief on his face. It's like he half-expected that I'd left for good. I don't know what else I can say or do to convince him that I'm in this for the long haul, and that it's going to take a hell of a lot to get rid of me. I guess it'll just take time for him to really believe it.

Anyway, I got undressed, got back into bed, while he just watched me, like if he looked away or even blinked I might disappear. I pulled him into my arms and told him I loved him. Then -- well, I won't go into detail, because it's goddamn embarrassing to think about, much less put down in black and white, but we talked, and we touched, and we reassured each other that we're both all right, and that we're all right as a couple, if that makes sense.

I guess I should go back, talk a little bit about the anniversary party. It was kind of overwhelming, all those people, all the reporters there taking holophotos every time you turned around. I met at least a hundred people, and I don't think I remember more than a handful of names. Chris stayed with me most of the night, but he kept getting pulled away by people he hadn't seen in years. Grandma Kathleen and Annie kept an eye out for me, though, and one or the other of them would swoop in if I was left alone too long or if a reporter was about to corner me. I got to dance with both of them, and good lord, Grandma Kathleen cuts quite a rug. I spent a bit of time talking with Chris's parents, but of course, they were the guests of honor so they were in high demand. I also escaped a couple times, walked around the grounds to clear my head and get some fresh air. I accidentally interrupted one tryst out in the garden, and damn, was that embarrassing all around. I've got no idea who the people were, but I hope I never see them again. Of course, they seemed drunk enough that they probably wouldn't remember anyway.

The party itself was unbelievable - the decorations, the food, the drink, everything was top-notch. Obviously no expense had been spared. I have to admit that much luxury makes me uneasy. I had a simple upbringing, and while I know there's no one in the Federation who lives in abject poverty unless they choose to, ostentatious displays of wealth still make me uncomfortable. I know for a fact that the osteoregenerator they're using in the Haight-Ashbury Federation Medical Clinic is at least ten years old, and being treated with it hurts like hell, unlike the newer models. I've done my volunteer hours in that clinic, I've set the bones of children with it and watched them crying. Probably the amount of credits it cost to throw that party could completely outfit the clinic with state-of-the-art equipment. But I know it's pointless to think that way. There's always going to be need, and I know Chris's family gives generously.

This morning, we had breakfast with Chris's great-aunt and -uncle, the ones who run the winery in Australia. To tell the truth, I'd rather have spent the time alone with Chris. After what happened last night, I felt like we could use the solitude, some time just for ourselves. But of course he won't get to see them again until who knows when, so I didn't ask him to cancel. They're good people, easy to get along with, and because they run the winery, they know what it's like to depend on the land, on the cycle of the seasons, the way I did growing up. So we had a little more in common than I did with some of Chris's other relations.

We were almost late meeting them this morning, actually, because we overslept. We were both so goddamn exhausted from everything that happened last night. We had to rush to get to the restaurant, so we didn't have time to finish packing up and getting checked out of the hotel before breakfast, the way we'd planned. So Chris is finishing all that up while I'm sitting in an armchair in the lobby, writing this. I think that's him, though, with the bellhop and our bags.

Guess it's time to go home to Georgia. We'd planned to get there in the afternoon, but now it looks like it'll be late evening before we make it. I don't know if it makes it better or worse that the first time I go back, it'll be in the dark of night instead of by daylight. At least I'll have Chris by my side when I face it.

Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike

Saturday 2260.174

I'm starting to think that instead of operating on my back, they should have examined my brain to see if I have one. Well, at least the part of the brain that keeps you from continuously doing stupid things in relationships. They have to have mapped that area. Jesus. I'm starting to think with all the bumps I've had on my head throughout my Starfleet career, that I've obviously damaged it -- It's the only explanation I can think of.

Right now, all I can say is that I'm the luckiest asshole in the universe, because I don't deserve Leonard McCoy. Why he's still with me as I fuck up over and over again -- Well, fuck if I know why. Not that I mean to screw up, I just seem to do it anyway. Just fuck.

We're in Savannah right now. While I'd planned on making it all the way to Atlanta tonight, we got such a late start -- Long story short, when I came down with the bags and the bellhop to check us out, I got dizzy and off-balance heading for the desk. I would have fallen if not for a chair being right there. So I collapsed into it and was out of it for a minute or two. Scared Len to death. After he checked me over, he had the bellhop take our bags back up to the room. Luckily we didn't need to be out until 1600, so he gave me a sedative and made me sleep a few hours. We didn't end up leaving until it was time to check out. Then he made me eat something in the hotel restaurant before we took off. He insisted on driving. Told me to get more sleep and if I didn't he'd sedate me again. Boy is he pissed at me. Something about a chemical imbalance because I fucked with my medications and that I do need a goddamn caretaker and if he had to hire one himself to keep an eye on me on the Exeter he would if I was going to act like a five year old. I know there was more ranting, and I kept telling him I was sorry. He told me if I was really sorry that I'd start taking better care of myself. I guess I have to admit he has a point.

So we're staying here at a small hotel he picked out. Not my usual fare, but it's nice and clean. He's gone out to get food. Fuck, he's been bossy. I feel like a five year old right now being punished. He told me when he left that I'd be eating and then he'd be sedating me for the night. Once again I was stupid enough to open my mouth to protest -- Big mistake. It was on to tirade number four I think, maybe five. Unsurprisingly, I'm not finding them as hot anymore.

He's absolutely right, though. Like I said before. I'm an idiot. A completely selfish idiot, and God help me, I'm going to do everything I can to take care of myself the rest of this trip -- To show him that I do get what it's doing to him when I don't. I don't want to see the face I woke up to earlier. The panic in his eyes. Fuck.

So I'm going to do what I'm told tonight. I swear to god if I automatically open my mouth to protest something he tells me when he gets back, I'll tape it shut myself. I want to feel good enough tomorrow morning when we get to the house -- Well, I know he's going to need me. I know he's scared. I only hope and pray that I can help him face all of those ghosts -- And start to help him make some good memories in our home.

We have ten days in Georgia. Ten days for me to get my head out of my ass and prove I'm worthy of his love.

Actually, I think there is a lot we need to prove to each other these next ten days. It's time for me to step up and do that.

On to part 26

Tags: fic: trek, pairing: pike/mccoy, series: to talk of many things
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →
← Ctrl ← Alt
Ctrl → Alt →