Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,
Sky
skyblue_reverie

Trek Fic: No Cloud Was In the Sky (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)

Title: No Cloud Was In the Sky (Part 37 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 7900
Summary: The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.
A/N: From mga1999: Lions, and tigers, and BEARS, oh MY. Okay, not really, I am just brain dead so that's all I got. From skyblue_reverie: Just a heads up, I'm gonna be getting a "real" job working for someone else (oh god nooooo) so updates may become a bit less frequent in the future.

Click on the gorgeous banner by the awesome fanarts_series for series masterlist with links to all prior parts:





To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
Date sent: Saturday 2260.209


Dear Len,

I'm glad you've had a quiet week. You and Jim deserve it. Sounds like things are getting back to normal, or as normal as they can be in the Neutral Zone. Things remain quiet out here too. I've been spending quite a bit of time with the command candidates, using my ready room pretty much as a classroom. I guess I enjoy teaching a little more than I remembered, because I look forward to the time I spend with them each day. Good group of young men and women. I'd still prefer they spend more time at the academy, but at least I know this group won't miss anything.

I finally was able to read the official reports on what happened. I got chills. I can't even imagine, Len. Even Spock's report seemed -- Well, it wasn't his usual report. It almost, dare I say it, emotional. Don't tell him I said that though. How are you doing with Spock lately? You didn't say if you and Jim talked about that, so I hope things are okay in that regard.

I'm relieved that Yeoman Rand has transferred to the Defiant. As I said, I think it will be good for both of them. I see that Jim's new yeoman is a Denobulan male. I admit I had to chuckle at that. More proof that Spock does have a sense of humor.

We found an M-class planet in this sector, but it was completely barren. Creepy even, no wind or weather of any kind and the planet -- like it was purposely made that way. The science teams are studying data but I highly doubt we'll even go to the surface unless they find something worthwhile. It would take years of terraforming to even begin to think about establishing a colony or outpost. Who knows though, it might be the only thing we find out here, and you know Starfleet, they want an outpost in every damn area they can find.

Let's see, what else is going on. I've been swimming a lot, and have started to run on the treadmill again. Philip is going to start weaning me off some of the neurogenic drugs, feeling I'm stable in that regard. He's going to leave me on the immuno-suppressants until the end of your expected treatment protocol, possibly longer. My headaches have lessened, and the last few nights I've actually slept pretty well without a sleep aid. I still tire twice as fast as I used to -- Philip of course blames it on my advance age. Asshole. I know he sent you all the results from my physical at Starfleet Medical, and I told him to continue to send you updates.

Mom has started pressing me to set a date for our wedding. Have you put any thought into where you want to get married? Of course, it will have to line up with shore leave, and be on Earth. Although, if we did marry off-planet, we might actually get the small wedding we both want as opposed to what my family wants. I'm torn, Len. I know my mother was so disappointed when my first marriage failed, and I know she thinks I've finally met the 'one' -- Yes, she's told me that many times already. So part of me feels like I have to make amends with her for my past mistakes and let her enjoy planning this. The other part of me wants to have Admiral Barnett marry us next time we're earthside and not tell anyone.

So please tell me, what do you want, Len? You never talked about your wedding with Jocelyn. I don't know if it was big or small. Mine was -- Well, it was an event, and let's just leave it at that. You should also know, my mom would prefer we marry in a church, but I know that's not your thing. Frankly, none of this is my thing. A quiet ceremony outside with family and friends and a party after would be perfect for me, but it really doesn't matter. I just want to marry you, Len. The rest of it isn't important to me.

If you aren't ready to think about it, I'll try to keep her at bay. But I'm warning you, if she doesn't get an answer from me, I'm sure she'll start writing you. Then she'll get my grandmother into it -- Heck, she's already written me four times since we left, telling me details about the engagement party. And no, you don't want to know. It's better that way. Believe me. The only thing keeping me from telling them to cancel it all is the fact that I'll get to spend a few days with you. And I meant what I said before -- We're going to the party, and then straight back to my ranch until we have to leave. I'm not letting them guilt me into anything else. Remind me of that later, okay honey?

Well, it's late and I'm tired from my workout on the treadmill. I'm going to watch some of our vids and jerk off with the sounds you make when you're inside me -- I never fail to come when you do. You're so damn beautiful when you come, Len.

I miss you. I love you. Stay safe.

Always,

Chris


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
Sent: Tuesday 2260.212


Dear Chris,

Dear lord, space is boring. Never thought I'd say that, and I certainly never thought I'd be complaining about it. Not that I am, really. Dull is better than the alternative. But it's been a whole lot of nothing around here, and people are getting edgy. Since it's the neutral zone, they wake up every day knowing that it could all go to hell at any moment, and the longer it goes without anything happening, the higher the tension is.

I've already had to treat couple of morons who got into fistfight over who was first in line at a replicator, if you can believe that. I read 'em the riot act, of course, got 'em properly chastened, but that kind of crap is starting to happen all over the ship. It's just nerves, wound to the breaking point. Not much to be done about it. Well, Jim's talking about starting some kind of intramural athletics league, maybe fencing lessons given by Sulu or something. I don't know. Maybe it's a good idea, and lord knows he could use a project to keep him busy. He's driving the crew -- especially the senior staff -- absolutely crazy by popping up in everyone's business like a goddamn hyperactive groundhog.

I thought Christine was going to punch him when she discovered him in the med supply closet, everything off the shelves and on the floor so he could reorganize it in what he insisted was a more efficient way. She ordered him out of sickbay -- a lieutenant ordering around the captain! -- and told him not to show his face again unless it was a dire medical emergency, or she'd make him regret it. She can be damn scary when she wants to be. He slunk out of there like a dog with its tail between its legs. I gave her a two hour lunch break.

I know Jim's been feeling better since he got his new yeoman, Kessix, who we took on board when Rand transferred to the Defiant. It helps that Kessix could probably take Jim down with both hands tied behind his back. He wouldn't -- from what I can tell he's easy-going and not particularly perturbed by Jim's antics, which is good -- but if Jim went crazy and attacked him, he wouldn't get anywhere. Good lord, though, have you seen the Denobulan tongue? When I first met him, he was with Jim and they were swapping stories of their exploits. Then he unfurled his tongue and it must've been a good foot long. He tried to tell us how much his wives enjoyed it but I told him to shut up or I'd hypo him with a vocal paralytic. He just smiled.

Glad to hear you're feeling better, and that you're sleeping without drugs. The fact that the headaches are easing up is a good sign too. I'm reading the med reports that Philip sends me but he's doing a fine job of taking care of you so I'm going to let him do his thing without interference.

As for the wedding - good god, man, I've got no idea. I'm a doctor, not an event planner. I suppose maybe San Francisco would be the best place for it since it would be easier for Starfleet personnel to attend. The specific venue, though -- I don't know. Outside would be nice. Definitely not a church. As for the number of people, the smaller, the better, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want it to be a big deal.

My wedding to Joss was -- well, "an event" is probably a good way to describe it. I'm sure it was nothing like yours, but it had all the old-fashioned fripperies, from Joss's puffy white dress to a goddamn groom's cake and everything in between. Probably around 400 guests, most of 'em I didn't even know, or had only met once or twice in my entire life. But it was what Joss wanted, and I didn't particularly care, and since it was her family paying for the damn thing, I just let her have her way.

Hell, Chris, eloping is starting to sound better and better.

About the only thing getting me through the idea of that engagement party is the thought that as soon as it's over, we're going to go to your ranch in the Mojave. I can't wait to see it, darlin'. It sounds quiet and peaceful and it sounds like it's a part of you, a part that I haven't seen yet.

Plus, of course, we're going to fuck until both of us are so sore we can't sit down for a week. That'll make horseback riding fun. I've heard that the stars out in the desert are unbelievable. I want to make love to you under those stars, with no one around for miles to hear the sounds you make when I'm inside of you. You think I make incredible sounds when I'm inside you? You should hear yourself, darlin'. You're so uninhibited, gasping and grunting and mewling, demanding more, harder, now.

When I'm fucking you, you're so desperate for me, so needy. I love that I'm the only one who gets to see you like that, out of control and vulnerable and completely at my mercy. That side of you is mine, and mine alone. I bet not many people even suspect that side of you exists. They just know calm, capable, always-in-control Pike. They don't know how you twist and buck under me, how you fist the sheets, how you scream my name when you come. When we're at your place in Mojave, darlin', I'm going to make you scream my name until you're hoarse. That's a promise.

Hell, now I've got to go jerk off. I don't even need to watch the vids -- I just close my eyes and remember how you look under me, your blue eyes glazed and your mouth slack, your fingernails scrabbling desperately against my back while I pound into you hard enough to leave bruises on your ass. Fuck, Chris, got my cock in my hand right now, thinking about that. Gonna take a minute to finish up, and believe me, it'll only take a minute.

Christ, baby, that was good. My whole body aches now from the force of it. Shot so far that some of it got on the screen of my comm unit, it's dripping down now across these words. Better go clean it up.

Stay safe, darlin', and know that I'm thinking of you always.

Love,
Len



To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
Date sent: Saturday 2260.216


Dear Len,

Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual to write again. I've been really busy with my command students. Plus, the science department made a valid argument that since we had nothing better to do, and haven't come across anything else, we should go ahead an orbit the planet. Right now we've classified it as uninhabitable. The science officers have found some really unusual elements though. I mentioned it was barren, and I meant that. Literally just dirt and rock everywhere. Yet it's apparent that it once supported life. The disturbing part is that my science officer is definitely coming around to my earlier thought that someone made the planet the way it is. Makes me wonder what else we'll find out here.

It sure didn't take long for the 'neutral zone mania,' as I call it, to hit the Enterprise. It's usually a bit longer, but after your transporter issue, I'm sure people are just on edge in general. Keeping everyone busy and occupied is about all you can do. If only you had a hypo for patience that you could inoculate everyone with. Because it always seems to be in short supply there.

I'm glad to hear Jim is being Jim. Makes me worry a lot less about him actually. Has he been talking to you? Has he said anything more? I sent another comm to him and haven't heard from him yet. I don't want to push him, and I'm sure he's still wary of me -- I just want to help.

I wrote my mother earlier and gave her the go ahead to start looking in the San Francisco area for something outdoors. I don't know about you, but I've always been fond of Golden Gate Park. I know other areas of the park are more popular for weddings, but what do you think about the west end near Ocean Beach? Not that I want to get married on the beach -- I just think it would be nice to get married -- I don't know, maybe on the old soccer fields, or even near the restored beach chalet. Is there anywhere you had in mind?

I'll start inquiring with Richard about when our next earthside shore leave will be. I know the Exeter's next leave isn't going to bring us anywhere near Earth, but I'll figure out a way for us to get together. The Enterprise will probably be heading back to Earth after the neutral zone. That's SOP after a tour there, so I can only assume. I think, realistically, we'd be looking at late summer/early fall of 2261 for a date. That seems so far away. I've always liked September in San Francisco. What do you think of that, honey? Want to marry me at sunset in the park with sounds of the ocean surrounding us?

God, I miss you. I think I've read the end of your last comm about fifty times already. Jerked off to it twice. I don't really need the vids either, but -- I don't know, they just somehow make me feel closer to you.

I don't know if I've told you this or not, but my bedroom at the ranch has a huge retractable skylight. I used to sleep with it open, so I could see the stars unobstructed. So you'll get your wish for me to make love to you under the stars, even when we're in the bedroom. I do know a couple of nice spots out in the desert that would be good for that too. God, I can't wait.

Ran five miles on the treadmill earlier. Thought I was going to have a heart attack the last mile, but I did it. And before you start grumbling at me to take it slow, I worked my way up to that and Philip is fully aware. I wouldn't say he exactly approves, but he's not forbidding me either. I'm taking care of myself. Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to keep myself from being in peak shape for all times I'm going to fuck you. Horseback riding will be the least of your worries -- You might not be able to walk.

I'm going to get some sleep now, my love. I might take my command students down to the planet tomorrow depending on the final report from the science department. Could be an interesting day.

It kills me that I can't be with you on your birthday, Len. Or at least talk to you. Just know that I wish I could be with you and I'll be thinking about you. Happy 33rd, honey.

Be safe. I love you.

Always,
Chris



Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike
Sunday 2260.217

Been awhile since I've written a journal entry. Mostly as I've been so tired when I finally get to my quarters, I've basically taken a quick sonic and crawled in bed. So much has happened since my last entry, I don't even know where to start. Or if I even should. I guess I'll just start with what I'm thinking about right now.

Mostly I'm missing Len. Three days without hearing from him is harder than I thought it would be. I remind myself that it wasn't too long ago that it would take more than a week -- Doesn't seem to help much. I think I might just start writing him every night telling him what's going on. Might not be very exciting most days, but maybe it will feel like I'm going home and talking with him -- Telling him about my day. I don't know.

I'm still worried about Jim. I told Len that knowing Jim was up to his old tricks made me worry less, and it does, but -- In some ways it makes me worry more. If he's talking to Len about it, that's one thing. If he's just acting like everyone expects, covering it up -- Well, let's just say that I know from experience that doing that doesn't work out very well. I know Len is aware of this. And I know he's watching him like a hawk. I just wonder if Len would really call him on it right now with their friendship being so tenuous of late. I think Len is just so relieved to have him back in his life right now -- I just hope he doesn't overlook things because of it.

The first time something out of my control happened to me -- I don't even want to go into the details. Suffice it to say, I was indirectly responsible for killing five people. Fuck, 'indirectly' is what they teach us to say. Drill into us at the Academy and while we're working our way up through the ranks. I was the perfect Captain during shift and when needed -- Outside of that, I was drinking and self-medicating for weeks after. I nearly killed myself a couple of times taking so many drugs and then the antidotes when I needed to be on duty. I was wrecking my body, and frankly I didn't care. I was literally stealing drugs from med bay. If Philip hadn't intervened and covered up so the CMO at the time wouldn't find out -- Well, I'm sure I would have been out of Starfleet. It was a bitter lesson, and luckily I learned from it. Didn't stop me from getting drunk when things happened other times, but at least there weren't drugs involved too.

I know I'm probably overreacting. And like I told Len before, my reasons are partially selfish. It scares the hell out of me sometimes -- Jim being as reckless as he is. While I want to believe that I'd be enough to pull Len through something happening to Jim, part of me isn't sure. Fuck. I will just continue to pray for both of them.

Now, onto the hard issue. My jealousy. I'm not going to lie and say that it's completely under control. I still feel a twinge -- Almost like a pinch, really, in my gut whenever -- Well, when Jim said he slept on Len's couch. Things like that bother me more than I'd like. I still really don't know why. I've tried to think back through my life -- Sure there were nights I spent on friends couches when I'd had too much to drink or had gone through something rough. But most of those times it was in houses or apartments. It's not like I was sleeping mere steps away from them. It shouldn't matter. Rationally I know nothing is going on between them, but jealousy isn't at all rational.

I commed Dr. Rossen the other day with some of these thoughts. I haven't heard from her yet. I'm sure she'll reassure me that I'm making progress -- Remind me of how far I've come. I just still see it as such a damn weakness. Christopher Pike doesn't have weaknesses. Of course, Christopher Pike was never a lovestruck fool either and look at me now.

I'm actually looking forward to my wedding. While I told Len it didn't matter, there is part of me that actually wants be involved in planning it. I already told my mother what color flowers I wanted. Flowers. Since when did I turn into the bride? Jesus. Get a grip, Chris. But I want certain things, and fuck if I haven't been dreaming about it. In my dream we were wearing old-fashioned Victorian clothes from, god, probably the 1800's -- tailcoats and top hats, and I woke up not entirely opposed to it. Something about having to unbutton twenty buttons on Len's waistcoat to get him out of it on our wedding night made me so hard I had to jerk off before I could even get out of bed.

I highly doubt Len would agree to that, nor do I even really want to wear something like that to get married in. I will admit though, it's certainly given me ideas about throwing a costume party and dressing up just to see Len in something like that. God, I'm getting hard again just thinking about it. I think that's my cue to take a hot shower, jerk off and get some sleep.

Tomorrow we're sending an away team down to the planet. Hopefully it will be uneventful, but I'd like to be well rested in case it's not.



To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
Date sent: Thursday 2260.221


Dear Chris,

Nothing much to report here. Sulu thought he'd found some "anomalous readings," whatever the hell that means, but when we went to check it out there was nothing there. Spock said more'n likely it was magnetic space dust screwing with our sensors. Well, he quoted exact odds, but I think he pulls those numbers out of his ass, personally. I was up on the bridge, just keeping a circumspect eye on Jim. I don't know how the bridge crew puts up with Spock's supercilious bullshit.

Anyway that's about it in terms of excitement. Jim's starting up a combat training program to burn off the crew's excess energy. Sulu's giving sword-fighting lessons and Jim's giving hand-to-hand training. Personally I think Jim just enjoys getting up and strutting around in his skin-tight workout clothes -- which look goddamn ridiculous, by the way -- and showing off his fighting skills. But it's keeping the crew busy, and it's keeping my staff busy, treating the bruises and strained muscles that go with this kind of foolishness.

My birthday was all right, I suppose. Mostly I spent it holed up in Jim's quarters, avoiding everyone. Jim accused me of moping because I couldn't be with you, and the hell of it was that he was right. It's ridiculous, but somehow on that day I missed you even more than I always do. Anyway, I didn't brood the entire time. Chekov set up a small party for me, with a cake and streamers and everything. Not really my thing, but I figured it would be ungracious to bitch about it. Well, not that that would normally stop me, but it's Chekov. He'd get those big sad eyes and then I would've felt like I'd killed his puppy or something. He knows exactly how to use that to his advantage, of course. He got me to wear a goddamn ridiculous multi-colored, pointy hat with a pom-pom on top and then Jim, who was lying in wait, took a holo-photo. Asshole. Jim, I mean, not Chekov.

Speaking of Chekov, he seems to have taken a shine to Kessix. I don't mean the way you're thinking, I just mean that somehow they're kindred spirits. Chekov likes to tell Kessix about how everything worthwhile ever done by humankind was invented in Russia, and his eyes get big as saucers when Kessix talks about life on Denobula. It's actually kind of funny because it's got Sulu steaming mad. Jealousy, plain and simple. I don't know why everyone but Sulu has figured out that he's head over heels for the kid. Well, Chekov hasn't figured it out either. I think Kessix has, though, and this is his way of playing matchmaker. It's given the crew betting pool something to focus on, anyway. I've got five credits on Sulu finally getting his head out of his ass and starting something up with Chekov within two months. Christine gives 'em a month and Nyota says six. Jim's not allowed to participate because he always tries to cheat and jumpstart things himself. He was gettin' all whiny so we made him the referee -- his job is to keep the rest of us on the straight and narrow, not that any of us need watching, and to keep track of Sulu and Chekov, see when and if they actually get a clue. So we'll see what happens. I'll let you know.

As for your questions about Jim, no, we haven't talked any more -- I mean the serious Talking kind of talking, but I think he's doing better. Little by little.

Good lord, Chris, sunset in September, in Golden Gate Park, sounds like heaven. The old soccer fields near the ocean are fine, since I'm guessing we'll need someplace big to hold everyone your mother's going to invite.

I'm glad you liked the comm, and I'm really happy to hear that it gave you jerk-off material. I've been watching our vids too, now and again. It's good to see you and hear you, but it makes me miss you even more. The skylight in your bedroom at the ranch sounds incredible. I think I'm gonna like it out there. And if you want to fuck me until I can't walk, well, you're welcome to try. You won't catch me complaining.

I know by the time you get this comm, your away mission to that barren Class M planet will be long over, but just -- be careful, all right? Away missions have got me jumpy as hell right now. Something always seems to go wrong, no matter how routine it looks.

Got to go hit the sonics now, get ready for my shift. I know you're busy, but write when you can. These letters are always the highlight of my goddamn week.

I love you, darlin'.

Always,
Len



To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)
Date sent: Monday 2260.225


Dear Chris,

Sorry I haven't written back. I've been trying to keep busy and Bones and I might have slightly overdone it with his birthday celebrations on Saturday night. Scotty brewed up something and man, we were really flying on whatever it was. I still have a slight hangover even with Bones's usual remedy.

Other than that, I'm doing okay. I'm not sleeping very well. Bones has been... well, I don't know if I would be doing as well without him. He told me I could come to him anytime, and a few days ago, I woke him up at 0200. He didn't even grumble at me... Well, not as much as he usually would. He just pulled me inside, tucked me in his bed, and he slept on the couch that night. I guess I looked pretty bad. I'd had a nightmare. I was shaky and sweaty. He was even grumbling about shock. I think he sat with me until I fell asleep or he was satisfied I was okay. I don't know, Chris. Sometimes I'm feeling okay about it, and sometimes not. Those times I'm not, I'm just trying not to be an idiot and while we're not really talking about anything, I know I can go to Bones anytime I need to. It helps.

Bones was okay on his birthday on Wednesday. I know he was missing you a lot. We had a little party with the bridge crew after alpha shift in the officer's rec room. I'm attaching a short video of him blowing out the candles on the cake and a holo of him actually wearing a party hat. It didn't stay on long, but Chekov made the hats and decorated, and who can say no to Chekov? Bones and I celebrated privately over the weekend. We pretty much stayed in my quarters the entire time -- well, when we didn't have things to take care of on the bridge or in sickbay. We were both off-duty, but you know how it is, you're really never off-duty. We watched a lot of stupid holovids and didn't talk really. Well, we talked, just not about what's going on with me. I just don't see how rehashing it over and over again is going to make things any different. I can't exactly imagine that you talked to anyone about it. Maybe you did and maybe I'm just too stubborn for my own good, just like Bones always says.

Well, Bones is waiting for me in his quarters for dinner so I'd better not be late. He'll have security in here or he'll be in here so fast... Not that that's happened before.

Hope your mission is going well. Keep yourself safe out there.

Take care,
Jim






On to the next part.
Tags: fic: trek, pairing: pike/mccoy, series: to talk of many things
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    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.
  • 52 comments
Previous
← Ctrl ← Alt
Next
Ctrl → Alt →
Previous
← Ctrl ← Alt
Next
Ctrl → Alt →