Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,
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Trek Fic: The Carpenter Said Nothing But (Pike/McCoy, R, Part 43 of To Talk of Many Things)

Title: The Carpenter Said Nothing But (Part 43 of To Talk of Many Things)
Author: mga1999 and skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: Around 3000
Summary: Shore leave hangover.
A/N: from skyblue_reverie and mga1999 Hokay, we're gonna try to update this puppy once a week, though the chapters will probably be shorter on average than before the unplanned-and-lengthy hiatus. Wish us luck! Also: replies may be kind of slow in coming, due to this silly work thing (pfft, stupid need for money) but we treasure each and every comment and we will respond as soon as we can.


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








Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike
Friday 2260.285


Married. Three days ago I got married. Or more like two depending on what galactic time zone I go by. All I know is that shortly after midnight on Tuesday 2260.282, October 9th, Len and I got married.

It’s been about twenty minutes since I typed that last sentence and frankly, I still don’t know exactly what to say. I guess maybe I should start from the beginning.

Shore leave was incredible, albeit short. Having Len at the ranch was -- Well, the ranch never felt more like home having him there. It was like all the pieces of my life had finally fallen into place. There were moments that seemed so surreal I wouldn’t have been surprised if I woke up and it had been all a dream.

And then one moment we were having incredible sex and the next thing I knew we were getting married. Literally. I have no idea what possessed me. It was just like when I proposed, it came out of nowhere. I can’t explain it other than the feeling was so overwhelming – I just didn’t want to wait. I felt like if we did, I might smother.

Except now I – Well fuck, I know this sounds bad, but now I feel like I’m being smothered because I DID get married. Don’t get me wrong, I want to marry Len. Wanted to marry him. I guess I thought I’d have another year to wrap my head around it again. I swore I was never getting married again. And now I feel like – Well, there is a feeling twisting in my stomach that I don’t like much.

Hell, this entry is all over the place. Kind of like what I’m feeling. It’s not all bad. There are times since I arrived back on Exeter a couple of hours ago that just knowing that, officially, Len belongs to me now – Well, I’m sure I’m grinning like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl with her first crush. Moments later I feel so much absolute panic that I nearly hyperventilate.

The fact is, I’m terrified. I spent the last couple of days with Len caught up in a whirlwind. I felt euphoric. And as long as I was with Len, I was happy. I was ecstatic. Everything felt right in the world, but it only took a few hours when he was dropped off for me to – Well, have second thoughts. And third. Did we rush things? Fuck, I don’t know. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ve known that for a long time. And not being able to talk to anyone about how I’m feeling since we’re keeping it a secret -- That’s certainly not helping.

Add into the fact that I returned from shore leave with a comm from my mother with all kinds of questions about the wedding now that we’ve set a date and place and the party is over. So to her it’s now full speed ahead. Len and I have already discussed and decided we’d still go through with that wedding. Considering no one will ever know we got married, and if my mother found out – Well, she’d be disappointed in me I’m sure. No, she’d be crushed.

Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? Apparently I wasn’t. Len was buried in my ass. I was sitting on his lap after having an orgasm that I would swear shook the desert. And we had been talking about previous conquests, and I was feeling so damn possessive. More than usual. And I just wanted to make him mine. In every way possible. So I told him I didn’t want to wait. That I wanted to get married now. The look of shock on his face quickly turned into a smile and an hour later we were standing in suits in my study, submitting a confidential marriage license online. A short vidcomm to my cousin in Australia who just happens to minister and we were married. Just like that. Married.

Again, what the hell was I thinking? And how the hell did I think I would be able to keep this a secret – Not be able to talk about this with anyone. All I have is this journal and I feel like it’s even judging me. I told Len I’d comm him tonight when I was back aboard and settled and what the hell am I supposed to say? Gee honey, remember when we got married? I think it’s a mistake. Of course there isn’t a heck of a lot I can do about it right now. Or ever. I’m married to Leonard McCoy til death do us part. And I’m fucking terrified. I don’t quite think that’s the way you’re supposed to feel starting a marriage.

This isn’t helping. I think I’ll go swim some laps. Then I need to calm down and comm Len. My husband. Fuck. I think I’ll be having a drink or three first.



To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
Date Sent: Friday 2260.285


Dear Len,

I arrived safely back on the Exeter a few hours ago. I was able to sleep on the way back, so I’m feeling pretty well rested. I needed it after the last thirty-six hours we spent together. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The ship seems fine, and yes I was worried. A Captain never likes leaving their ship and I might just be a bit more extreme about that than most. The crew seems to have enjoyed some much-needed shore leave and we’re ready to head back out to uncharted territory tomorrow morning.

I just swam laps and had a couple glasses of wine. I hope that’s not something I’m not supposed to do. I know you said you’d be sending the plan to Philip, but I didn’t see what harm that could do since I got more exercise with you the last few days and you never said anything about the wine we drank. Despite what you may be thinking, I do plan on following doctor’s orders.

I’m sorry this is so short, but it’s already Gamma and want to try to get a little sleep before Alpha when we head out. We’ll just be warping through empty space, but I want to be at my best for my crew.

I love you, Len. I miss you like hell already.

Always,

Chris


To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
Date Sent: Friday 2260.285


Dear Philip,

Well, a miracle occurred and Chris has finally agreed to make some major changes in order to improve his physical health. You know how stubborn he is, especially about his own well-being, so I'm counting on you to make sure he follows through on it.

You see him day-to-day, so I'll leave the details to you, but the gist of it is that I told him he was going to have to take it easy - no more marathon workout sessions. I told him no more away missions unless it's absolutely necessary. He's got to sleep a full eight hours - eight consecutive hours - in every 24-hour cycle. Even if you have to sedate him at first. And he has to eat better. I don't mean he should cut back on calories - that's the last thing he needs - but he can't subsist on grease and empty carbs alone. A bacon burger once in a while, fine. But he's got to get better nutrition if he's going to heal up. Fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean meats, fish, nuts, olive oil. Plenty of water, not too much coffee. And he's got to eat at regular intervals - no skipping meals because he's "too busy." You know the drill. Hell, he knows it too, he just won't do it without someone to make him. Better you than me - he's going to resent you something fierce for awhile, and I'm sorry for that.

In terms of exercise, see if you can put together a program for him that will build strength and endurance without being so hard on his body. I'd recommend against running right now. Low or no impact is probably better - he likes water, so swimming, plus some water resistance training, might be ideal. Please, Philip, don't let him overdo it. You know he'll try.

If we have him do all that, we should be able to wean him off the immuno-suppressants completely. I know he'll feel better then, get some of his energy back. Don't let him convince you that that means he's 100% cured and doesn't need to keep up with his changes!

When he decides that enough is enough and he's tired of all the restrictions, and you and I both know that it's when, not if, remind him that he promised me. Remind him that he said he didn't want to lose me and that he knew he had to make these changes. I don't know if it'll help, but I hope it will.

I know this is asking a lot of you. It'll put a strain on your friendship with Chris. Hell, you've seen the strain it's put on our relationship. But you and I both love him, in our different ways, and at least for my part, I'd rather have him be whole and healthy, rather than weak and broken, even if he hates me for it.

I'll do anything I can from this end, but I know the brunt of this is going to fall on you. Good luck.

Best,
Len



Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy
Saturday 2260.286


Holy fucking shit, I'm married. To Admiral slash billionaire playboy slash galactic hero Christopher Richard Pike. Unbelievable.

I don't even quite know how it happened - one second I'm fucking him out under the stars - and god damn was that hot - and the next we're standing in front of a vid screen saying "I do." I could still feel his come, drying on my chest, even as we were saying our vows. Talk about surreal.

Fuck, remind me to never make major life decisions in the aftermath of mind-blowing sex. Not that I regret it. I don't, at all. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

But... I think Chris might regret it. Fuck, that hurts to write, to admit to myself. But I can tell he's panicking now. Not that he's said anything, not that he would say anything. But his last comm to me, once he got back to the Exeter - it was strange. Almost cold. It was like nothing's changed, like he wants to pretend the whole thing never happened.

This is the exact same thing that happened when he proposed. He blurted it out in the heat of the moment and had second thoughts in the light of day.

I can only hope he'll come around, calm down, and not decide that it was a huge mistake. Jim suggested that I give him some room, not crowd him right now, and he's probably right.

Speaking of Jim - Chris and I agreed not to tell anyone, to keep our marriage a secret for the time being. I think both of us knew I'd end up spilling to Jim, but as it turns out, I didn't have to. We were in my quarters my first evening back, having a drink, and I guess the expression on my face must have been especially goofy or something. Jim grinned and said "someone had a weekend of hot sex, huh?" I just smiled and suddenly his eyes sharpened and he was looking at me with that piercing Captain stare of his. God damn, I hate it when he does that. Anyway, after a couple seconds, he said, "No, it's more than that. What did you do, run off to Vegas and get married?"

Well, naturally I turned bright red and started choking on my drink, and the game was up. He said "Holy shit, you did! Oh my God, Bones!"

He slapped me on the back, congratulated me, and then insisted that we toast to "wedded bliss." Jackass. He's genuinely happy for me, though, and I have to admit that's a weight off my mind. And I can honestly tell Chris that I didn't spill the beans. Jim figured it out all on his own.

Then, like I said, I got the comm from Chris. The oh-so-neutral comm. I was glad that I had Jim to talk to about it or I'd probably be in a panic myself right about now. Not that I feel good, exactly, but Jim reminded me that this happened before, with the proposal, and that we got through that just fine. He said it's obvious how much Chris loves me and once he gets over his attack of nerves, he'll remember that he does want to be married to me. I hope he's right.

I'd better write back to Chris before he has any more time to work himself into a state. Not quite sure what to say. Guess I'll just make it up as I go along - that seems to be par for the course for me and Chris.




To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.287


Dear Chris,

I miss you like hell too. Wish we had more time together - well, that's nothing new. I always wish that.

I wanted to let you know that Jim knows. I mean, he knows, you know? Ah, hell, I'm no good at this. Look, I didn't say anything. I swear to god, he took one look at me and figured it out all on his own. Guess I really do wear my heart on my sleeve. At least no one else has noticed anything different.

I sent the outline of your new regimen to Philip and he'll work out the details and go over it with you. Be a good boy and do what he says, all right? Ha, I can just see your sour face as you read that sentence. And I'm sure you'll be even less happy when you hear about the changes you'll be making. It'll be worth it, though, I promise.

Color me not surprised that you're worse than most captains when it comes to hating to leave your ship. Bet you've been running drills and surprise inspections just to make sure they haven't somehow forgotten all their training and discipline while you were gone. Am I right?

Nothing much of interest here to report. I'm sure that'll change soon enough - it's always one damn thing after another, it seems like.

I keep thinking about that night under the stars. Seems like every time I close my eyes, I'm right back there, with you. I hope you know I'm already half in love with your ranch, Chris. You might have to vie for my affections against a piece of land. I'm joking, of course - the ranch wouldn't mean much to me without you there. I can see us there, darlin', there and at the Georgia place too. Someday, when we retire. And that garden of your mama's, the one with all the oleander, that has a very special place in my heart - well, and parts further south, if you catch my drift. Damn, Chris, that was amazing.

All right, I've got to go on duty in a few so I'd better derail that particular train of thought. You keep yourself safe out there, all right?

I love you, Chris. Always.

Yours,
Len


To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)
From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)
Date Sent: Monday 2260.288


Dear Len,

Please don’t apologize for putting me in this position. I’ll gladly be the bad guy if it helps Chris in the end. I’ve already started drawing up a plan based on your suggestions and including the procedures for getting him weaned off the immuno-suppressants the panel at Starfleet Medical laid out. I truly feel if he actually follows the plan, it shouldn’t take more than three months to do that and six months before he sees some major results.

I’m not sure how you got him to agree, but I’m glad you did. I’ve been worried about his health, especially his mental health. A man like Chris doesn’t do well in these situations. He’s handled it all far better than I expected. Of course, I have to give you credit for most of that. He’s a guarded one, Chris. Never let anyone past those walls of his until you. He’s always in control. Always has been. Since the day I met him he’s been relentlessly focused and nothing got in the way of that.

I’ve seen the change in the couple of days we’ve been back. He actually asked me for a sleeping aid the last two nights, and I’ve seen him do nothing more than swim in the pool, and didn’t even swim as many laps as usual. He’s throwing himself into work though, making changes and ran two drills on his first day back, and ripped Engineering a new one over safety lapses over the weekend. He’ll settle down I’m sure.

I’ll send you the complete plan as soon as I finish it and get the panel’s final approval on the medical side of it. Then you can look it over and make any adjustments you see fit. And please, feel free to do so. I take no offense.

Take care. I promise I’ll keep a steady eye on Chris.

Philip



On to next part!
Tags: fic: trek, pairing: pike/mccoy, series: to talk of many things
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