Sky (skyblue_reverie) wrote,

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Trek Fic: Conveniently Low (TTOMT Part 49, Pike/McCoy, NC-17)

Title: Conveniently Low (Part 49 of To Talk of Many Things)
Author: mga1999 and skyblue_reverie
Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Discussion of enemas
Word Count: Around 4300
Summary: The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.
A/N: From skyblue_reverie (the pervy one): Yes, you read that right. Enemas. From mga1999 (the evol one): Man, the things you learn being a slash fanfic writer. *adds bleach to next shopping trip*

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Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy
Wednesday 2260.338

Things are pretty much back to normal here, or at least what passes for normal on this crazy traveling tuna can.

Had one of the most embarrassing moments of my medical career when I realized I was going to have to give The Talk to not only Chekov but Sulu as well. Sulu at least has been with women before. Chekov is - or was - a virgin - all they got up to when Scotty locked them in Chekov's quarters was hand jobs. So they made an appointment to come see me, and after I had explained the basics of gay sex, protection, and so forth, they proceeded to ask me every excruciating question that crossed their dirty little minds. Sulu even started one question with, "Well, how does it feel when Admiral Pike..." he thought the better of finishing that question when he saw the glare I was giving him.

Surprisingly, for all that he's younger and less experienced, Chekov was much less inhibited in talking about sex. And dear lord, I don't want to know what the kid has been reading or looking at, because the things he asked me about... good god, it's all I can do to write it down here. And I'm a goddamn medical professional. I swear to god, he spent at least thirty minutes asking about the ins and outs - oh hell, bad phrasing - about the details of erotic enemas. What substances he could use. How much. What temperature range was safe. How long someone could be made to hold it. I don't judge what anyone else wants to do in bed as long as it's consensual, but Jesus Christ, I need a bucket of brain bleach to get those mental images out of my head, especially in connection with sweet little Pavel Chekov. Sulu's face was so red during that part of the conversation that I was half afraid he was going to burst into flames.

Although, all things considered, I'd much rather have them ask, instead of one of 'em showing up in sickbay with an acute case of alcohol poisoning because the other one gave him a vodka enema or something. Or should that be "wodka enema"? Jesus.

Speaking of too much information about my fellow crew members' personal lives, I was privy to a fight between Nyota and Spock earlier today. Spock's been trying to get Nyota to postpone their plans to have a baby, in light of the recent incident with the Romulans in the neutral zone, and the heightened tension around that. No one's sure if war's going to erupt at any moment.

Anyway today during Nyota's appointment, Spock told her that it was not "logical" to bring a baby into the world "given the current political climate" and that he would no longer "provide genetic material for such an endeavor." Exact words, or close enough.

Well, Nyota hit the ceiling. She hollered at him a while but when he didn't budge, she told him that there was never going to be a perfect time to have a baby, that it was her body and her decision whether to get pregnant, and the only choice he got was whether he was going to be the daddy or not.

The look on Spock's face - ha, it was priceless. Then he got himself back under control and asked Nyota, poised as you please, whether he might have some time to consider his decision. She said he could have one week, and then she stomped out of there in high dudgeon.

So now they're not talking to each other, which Jim tells me makes things mighty awkward on the bridge given that they're both senior officers who need to actually communicate with each other. Apparently they've started doing the grade-school standby of picking a third person and asking them to relay a message even though the one you're not talking to is right there. Like, Spock might say to Chekov, "Please ask Lt. Uhura to scan for distress signals." And then Nyota would say to Chekov, "Please tell Commander Spock that I know how to do my job and I have already been scanning for the last five minutes." It's ridiculous. Jim was amused at first but now he's getting pissed. He said if they do that for one more duty shift, he's going to lock them in a room together until they sort things out.

Jim would actually go through with it too. Not sure it would work - each one's as stubborn as the other. But we'll see.

So, on to Jim. He's doing all right. We dropped off the refugees at a starbase last week. Ever since then he's been a bit more at ease. Not that he's glad they're gone, but he'll never really be able to be his usual irrepressible self when confronted with reminders of what he went through on Tarsus.

When we stopped to drop off the refugees, we also picked up the latest holo-mags and the mail that wasn't high enough priority to be sent out to the Enterprise via subspace. Jim's fan-mail, basically.

He's being painted as the daring bad boy with a heart of gold who defied orders to follow his conscience and do what was right. Which, I guess, isn't too far from the truth, even if hearing it put that way makes me roll my eyes. There were articles in all the holo-mags. He's lapping it up, naturally. He told me that the number of comms he got proposing marriage has doubled since the Romulan encounter in the neutral zone. And he said that I don't even want to know about the "less proper" offers. Well, he's right there.

I hope Willa knew what she was doing, involving the press in this mess - I think she's created a monster, personally. Or, well, at least fed the ego-monster that was already there. The kid's a mess of overweening ego in some areas and crippling insecurities in others, and he doesn’t need for that unbalance to become even more exaggerated.

So now I've rambled for a while without talking about what's actually on my mind. Chris, of course. Does it make me a coward to admit that I'm glad I don't have to deal with him and his moods right now? I'm honestly not sure I could take his bitching about Philip and Allen's breakup without blowing up. He's so over-invested in them it would be funny if it weren't so damn annoying. And yes, I know that's the pot calling the goddamn kettle black because I realize I'm more than a tad over-invested in Jim. But it's my own damn journal and if I want to have contradictory and hypocritical feelings, then by god I'm allowed.

I miss Chris - I miss his blue eyes, I miss the way he laughs, and god damn do I miss his body and the things he can do to mine. But, I've got to admit, there are things that I don't miss at all when we're apart. What does that say about our chances for making it long-term?

All right, now I'm just depressing myself. Nyota, Christine, and I have a scheduled "Bitch About Your Boyfriend" session after I get off-shift, so at least I can vent a little. I have a feeling Nyota needs that right now too. Christine isn't dating anyone right now but she's always happy to listen and cheer us on when we rant and rave about our partners. There's also usually frou-frou cocktails involved. Jim thinks it's hilarious that we have those sessions. Ha, just wait until he's in a long-term relationship. It's no piece of cake, that's for sure. Hmm, cake. Just realized I missed lunch. No wonder I'm hungry. Better go grab something to eat.

Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike
Monday 2260.343

I just sent the longest comm ever to Dr. Rossen. At this rate she’s going to start charging me per word she has to read. I want to say I feel better after sending it, but the truth is I don’t. I feel very alone right now and I only have myself to blame for that.

Philip is barely speaking to me. I’m hiding things from my husband. I’m sneaking more workouts in my quarters besides the extra ones Philip knows about in the gym. I’m angry at my mother and my father for that matter. And Jim? Well, for one I’m furious that he got off with basically a slap on the wrist. Yes, I know that he did the right thing and yes, I know I probably would have done the same damn thing. I know I’m being completely unreasonable. I just don’t fucking care right now.

I had a fight with Philip three days ago. It wasn’t pretty. I’m surprised he didn’t deck me, and only his maturity prevented that because I deserved it. It was one of those moments where words are flying out of your mouth and you feel like you are standing beside yourself watching, horrified at what you are saying, but powerless to stop it.

He said some things to me that stung. And they stung because unlike the crap I was spewing at him, everything he said to me was the absolute truth. The worst was his parting shot that I deserved to end up alone and was heading that way if I didn’t stop acting like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum if everything doesn’t go how I want. At that point I threw a PADD at him and he left. Other than official reports and meetings he hasn’t said a word to me. It was a stupid and petty fight and I’m a fucking idiot.

I have been stomping around – literally – ever since I got the comm from Jim, and even Len’s. The word from The Admiralty that Jim basically got off scot-free. And to find out that my parents – my mother especially was instrumental in that decision. It’s a punch in the gut. I feel betrayed by my own parents. Why? Because as I said in my last entry, I wanted Jim to lose his command. I wanted my husband here. I wanted Philip to go back to Earth and save his marriage and quit acting like an idiot. In other words, like Philip said, I wanted everything the way I want it and I’m pissed because it didn’t happen that way.

The truth is, I’m just as big of an idiot as Philip is apparently. And as Philip called me, a selfish arrogant prick. I know he’s right. Hell, part of me is proud of that. The other part of me is ashamed of how I’ve been acting. Fuck.

I know I have to tell Len how I really feel. I can’t stand to think about the disappointment he’ll feel. It makes me glad that I don’t have to do it in person. Does that make me a coward? Maybe I am. It’s bad enough thinking about the look he’ll have on his face when he reads what I have to say. Knowing that once again I’ve let him down. And wonder at what point he gets sick and tired of it. Not a great way to start a marriage. Fuck.

I keep thinking about when we were first writing each other -- Early in our relationship. How he said that being apart like this wouldn’t be enough for him. I had told him that I basically would take what I could get. And I meant it at the time. Of course if circumstances were different, I wouldn’t want to be apart from him. But they aren’t and at my age and stage in my career I still stand by the fact that I would rather have him like this than not at all. But how long will he put up with this? Especially with me unable to overcome my jealousy of Jim and my apparent emotional maturity of a five year old.

Fuck. Well, time to face the firing squad. I need to comm both Len and Jim. I think I’m going to tell both of them the truth. Maybe We’ll see if I have a husband and – Hell, I don’t even know what to call Jim anymore. In some ways I do still think of him as a son, but I sure as hell don’t deserve to.

I don’t think I really deserve anything right now.

Dear Jim,

This might be the hardest comm I’ve ever sent. No, the one I’m going to send Len after this one will be.

First of all, I’m an asshole. Let me get that out right away. I know it’s true. I’m not necessarily proud of that fact, but it is a fact nonetheless.

I haven’t been exactly truthful to you these past few weeks. I am not even sure how to start and I know I’m fumbling badly already so I’m going to just state the facts:

I wanted you to lose your command. I was furious when you didn’t. Still am.

I was mad as hell when I found out my parents intervened on your behalf, and no I didn’t ask them to. I had no idea they were involved or even knew what was going on.

I want Len on the Exeter with me. Yes, that is the reason why I wanted you to lose your command. Because I know he wouldn’t stay on the Enterprise if you weren’t there.

I think the relationship you have with my husband is inappropriate. I don’t give a flying fuck if you need each other. He’s my husband and I’m tired of feeling like the third wheel in this relationship.

Well, I’m obviously still writing in my journal. I didn’t send the above comm to Jim -- I saved it to sleep on it. Now that I’ve copied it here to read again -- Fuck. Am I really that person? I don’t even know anymore. Everything I wrote is true for the most part, but does it make me a better person if don’t send it? Or does it make me a coward?

I don’t even know anymore. I don’t have Philip to talk to about this. I don’t want to take out my obviously pettiness on Jim by actually sending the comm, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Just keep it all bottled up until I say something stupid when I see him on Risa a in a coupon of months? Or actually send a comm like the one I haven’t sent or worse at a weak moment?

I don’t know what the answer is. I’m just as confused this morning as I was last night. I’m not as angry though, so I guess that’s something. Maybe it’s therapeutic to write it all out and not share it. Maybe it’s okay not to tell Jim everything I’m feeling. And Len for that matter. Is that the grown up mature thing to do or am I just asking for trouble later?

I know Jim doesn’t deserve the words I wrote. I know they stem from my jealousy that I still can’t seem to get control of. Is this is what my life is going to be? Biting my tongue when it comes to the two of them? Dr. Rossen seems to believe that there will come a time that I will accept it and maybe she’s right. But like everything else, I want to know when that will be. If someone could tell me it would be eight months or even eight years, I would know there is an end in sight. I can handle that. Apparently what I can’t handle is the unknown, which considering I’m currently running a ship whose mission is to explore just that, makes me – Well fuck, I don’t know what it makes me.

I’m good at being a Captain, a leader. The unknown in that context excites me – Challenges me.

I’m apparently completely inept at being a man – a husband. Hell, even a friend. How does one even begin to fix that at fifty-five?

Fuck if I know and now I have to get to the bridge. I guess I won’t send that comm to Jim, but I know I need to send something. And I need to write Len, but I’ll deal with that tonight. Right now, I have students to teach and a red alert drill to spring on my crew today. Hopefully keeping busy will keep me out of trouble – Today at least.

To: Leonard McCoy (
From: Christopher Pike (
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.344

Dear Len,

I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner. I am just going to come right out and say that I’m struggling right now. I’m feeling very alone and I only have myself to blame for that.

Philip isn’t speaking to me. We had words over a week ago and we both said things to each other – hurtful things. I really screwed up, Len. Maybe irreparably.

I’m going to get the superfluous stuff out of the way first – Another way of putting off the inevitable things I need to confess. Wait, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but I told myself I wasn’t going to censor this for the most part. It’s not what you think. I love you. I am not leaving you. Let’s just say that you might want to leave me when I’m done.

Now that that hasn’t reassured you at all because apparently I’m an asshole – I’m glad to hear about Sulu and Chekov. While I didn’t know Sulu before the Enterprise’s maiden voyage, he did a fine job and seems like a good kid. I had known Chekov a bit at the Academy. Had the worst time remembering the kid’s name, but I know he was a wunderkind. He certainly contributed to saving my ass and Earth’s for that matter. They all seemed great, the Enterprise crew, the times we’ve been with them. Knowing that, and that you are with them always makes me know you’re in good hands. That’s important to me.

Jim has written me quite a bit. I’m glad he’s okay or as okay as he can be considering. Despite what you think, part of me is glad you’re there for him. That he has you -- Because he wouldn’t be where he is without you. That’s hard for me to acknowledge and I’m struggling, really struggling with that right now. I’m going to try to not get over-dramatic here, but I’m not going to censor this and erase, so here we go.

There was part of me that wanted him to lose his command. Yes, I did do what I could in trying to help him and I did vote in support of him in case you were wondering. On the flip side, I couldn’t help but think of the possibilities if he did. It seemed like it was an answer to many prayers. One, I’d get to have you here on the Exeter. Now, I’m sure you are thinking ‘What the fuck, Chris, you can’t just boot Philip out’ but I think if Jim had lost his command Philip would have come to his senses and seen that it was a sign that he was supposed to go home. Save his marriage. Save his family. Quit being selfish and stay earthside to save his marriage.

Of course that makes me hypocritical, because I’ve never been willing to do that before in any of my relationships and I can tell you that cost me my previous marriage and another relationship long ago. At this point, I still wouldn’t do it in all honesty. But that doesn’t apply to us because you’re in space with Jim.

Which brings us back to Jim. I kept thinking if he lost his command, if he wasn’t on the Enterprise, there would be nothing keeping you there. That I could have you transferred to the Exeter. Have Philip go home. Things would be right. Jim would eventually get a command back, but I figured by that time you’d be happily settled with me.

Of course things you have said before weigh on my mind both ways about this. When we were first ‘dating’ I guess you’d call it, you told me that being separated for long periods of time wouldn’t be enough for you. That’s always been foremost on my mind when I think about spending the next nine years apart from you. Yet, you married me knowing that was what you were signing up for. I can’t help but wonder if you’ve really thought that through and if you really want to wait for me for nine years. That scares me, Len. More than I can even convey. It’s probably why I’m so damn jealous of Jim and have been completely out of my mind lately. At what point is our relationship not worth it to you anymore and you just can’t deal with us being apart?

While I don’t like the idea of seeing you once or twice a year for the next nine years, like I said before, it’s worth it. You’re worth it. I know what - I want Leonard McCoy and I’ve spent my entire life looking for you and I’m certainly not going to let a little matter like time screw up the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean that. No, it’s not easy. I don’t want you to think it is easy for me to be separated from you. But it’s scarier to think about not having you at all.

I am glad Jim is okay, Len. I do love him, despite my apparent inability to separate my affection for him from my innate feelings of jealousy over how close the two of you are. I also know it’s going to be an ongoing struggle. I know that. Dr. Rossen tells me it will get better. I want to believe that, Len. And maybe that’s why I want you on the Exeter so badly. So that I’d know you were mine and mine alone. Just typing this makes me shake my head and I know it’s wrong to feel like that. But that’s how I feel, Len. I’m just trying to be honest.

This is where I confess that I was angry at you too. I feel like you should have found some way to tell me what was going on - that you were going to go into the neutral zone to find the Romulans - before it happened. I know if you had asked Jim to send me a message he would have done it for you. I’m sure you know that too. But you didn’t. And that hurts. Because if the same situation had happened here, if I had the chance, I would have found a way, Len. All I can say is thank God for our rings, because I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.

I just realized something as I was typing all of this. I guess the bottom line is that all of this – This relationship, these feelings I can’t seem to control – They make me feel weak, Len. Weakness is something I’ve never felt – something a starship captain can’t afford to feel. That’s something I don’t know how to resolve – How to fix. Maybe it’s something I can’t fix. What then? Where does that leave me? Leave us?

I’m scared, Len. Our relationship from the beginning, falling so hard for you, being with you has been terrifying. In some ways I got off on that. It was just something else to conquer. To beat. And I did. And I have you now. We’re married. You’re mine. Except now, I have this new fear that is even bigger than before. The fear of losing you. The fear of fucking up so badly that it’s not worth it to you anymore. Or that you’ll get tired of waiting for me.

Writing all of this is supposed to make me feel better. I wrote a comm so long to Dr. Rossen yesterday that I had to send it in two parts. Talking about everything is supposed to be a weight off of my shoulders isn’t it? Instead, I feel like instead of bricks on my shoulders, it’s an anchor on a chain around my neck, just waiting to be dropped. I feel like all I’m doing is waiting for your response – To hear and know how much I’ve disappointed you again – Let you down. Let Jim down. And I have, even if he doesn’t know it. Even if you don’t know it.

I feel terrible right now. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. If I showed you the comm I wrote to Jim but never sent, you’d probably never speak to me again and rightfully so. I didn’t send it though and I’m not going to. I will comm him when my head is in a better place. I probably should have waited to write you too, but I needed to. I needed to talk to someone – Needed to talk to you.

I need to get some sleep now. It’s 0100 and I need to hit send on this before I lose my nerve.

I love you, Len. I hope if anything, you at least know that.


On to Part 50
Tags: fic: trek, pairing: pike/mccoy, series: to talk of many things
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