Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Prompt: Kirk/McCoy - War of the Roses (1989 movie)

“Damn it, Jim.”

“This isn’t my fault, Bones.”

“Whose fault is it, then?”

“Sulu’s,” Jim says matter-of-factly. He cringes slightly when Bones pulls a thorn out of his palm.

“Who let that mad botanist raise sentient flowers?” Bones gives him a pointed ‘you dumbass’ look before pulling another thorn out of Jim’s hand.

“He said they were peaceful species,” Jim defends. “He didn’t realize that the roses would start a turf war.”

“A turf war?” Bones shakes his head and glares at the splotches of red that cover Jim’s arms and hands. “And you just had to walk into the middle of the damn war, didn’t you?”

“I thought that I’d be able to stop them.” Jim scowls as he remembers how wrong he was about that, watching Bones’ fingers glide over his skin while searching for more of the tiny thorns. “Those yellow roses were just pissy and mean.”

“Stop sulking, you big baby,” Bones mutters, which means that Jim’s going to be okay. If there was serious damage, Bones would be all intense and quiet, so Jim prefers getting yelled at when in sickbay because it means he’s not done too much damage. “Stand up and take off your pants.”

Jim arches a brow and can’t resist a little teasing, even if he’s in more pain than he really wants to admit to being in due to some damn flowers. “If you wanted to get me naked, all you’ve ever had to do is ask, Bones.”

“I’m not asking, Jim. Get the damn pants off or I’ll take them off myself. I need to check for thorns, not indulge in your juvenile attempts at seduction,” he says in that adorably grumpy tone that Jim’s come to love over the years.

Jim stands up and unfastens his pants, shoving them down carefully. “If I was seducing you, the last thing you’d call it would be juvenile,” he says confidently.

Bones looks at him and smirks. Smirks! “Is that so, Jim?” he drawls as he begins moving his fingers over Jim’s legs, checking for thorns and abrasions from the fighting roses.

“Yeah,” Jim manages to get out as the teasing becomes something a lot more tense and electric. Bones arches a brow and, instead of pulling away like one of them usually does when things get like this between them, he brushes his thumb against the front of Jim’s underwear, rubbing lazily for a few all too brief seconds before moving his hand back down.

He stands up and moves closer to Jim, as if that’s even possible, and lowers his head until his lips are right there, warm breath blowing against Jim’s mouth. “Prove it,” he challenges, flicking his tongue out to lick at Jim’s lower lip. Jim whimpers and sways forward, not even realizing that Bones has a hypospray until he feels it press into his neck. “Later. For now, get some rest so you can heal.”

“Damn it, Bones,” he manages to say before he passes out.