“When I said I wanted to play doctor, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Jim mutters as he moves the damp cloth across Bones’ forehead. Bones can’t hear him since he’s sleeping, which is the only reason Jim’s actually grumbling out loud. It’s too quiet, has been too quiet for what feels like days yet is probably more like a couple of hours, and the sound of Bones’ wheezy breaths is the only thing really breaking the silence. And Jim feels a slight twist in his gut that’s really damn unpleasant every time he hears that ragged breathing and looks at Bones’ flushed, sweaty face.
“I planned to be the patient and complain about not being able to orgasm or having a huge dick or something like that to get your hands on me,” Jim continues quietly. It’s been nearly thirteen hours since Bones collapsed in the middle of his shift, throwing up and shaking with chills before passing out. M’Benga finally let Jim move him to their room after determining the worst of the virus is over, because he knows as well as Jim does that Bones is a terrible patient and is more likely to be more agreeable if he’s recovering in his own room instead of sickbay. Despite knowing that it’s just a virus that isn’t life threatening or anything too worrying, Jim can’t really relax yet. Not when he hasn’t heard Bones griping about being sick and hasn’t had to threaten him to keep him resting in bed. Only then is he going to calm down and let the adrenalin fade enough to get some rest himself.
“Then I’d call you Doctor McCoy in that sexy voice you always bitch about even as your cock twitches because you secretly like it. I know your tells, Bones, just as I’m sure you know mine. Hell, you probably know ones I haven’t even realized I’ve got yet.” As he carefully brushes the wet cloth over Bones’ cheek and along his jaw, he can feel the stubble against his knuckles as he wipes away the sweat the fever is causing. He can’t help leaning down and pressing his cheek against Bones’ jaw, closing his eyes as he rubs lightly, just enough to feel it.
“You need to go ahead and wake up now and yell at me for molesting you in your sleep. It’s already been about ten hours since you went to sleep, Bones. I know you feel like shit, but you need to open those pretty hazel eyes and glare at me now, all right?” Jim flinches when Bones starts coughing again, not waking up even as his body convulses. Straightening up, he reaches for the bucket beside the bed, waiting to see if this coughing fit leads to throwing up like last time. When Bones wheezes and settles back against the mattress, he puts the bucket down and picks up the wet cloth he dropped on the blanket.
“I’m not a good doctor, Bones. It’s too frustrating to sit here and watch you suffering and not be able to do anything to help,” he admits, wiping saliva off of Bones’ mouth from the coughing fit. “Is this how you feel whenever I get hurt? Because I don’t know how you can stand it if it is. I wouldn’t want to love me at all if it meant feeling like this each time a mission goes wrong or I have an accident.” He bites his lip and stares at Bones’ eyelids, watching them flutter slightly in his sleep. “I’m so damn lucky that you’re a better man than I am, you know? It’s totally selfish, but I’d rather switch places and be the one being taken care every time because you’re stronger than I am when it comes to this stuff. Even if you don’t seem to realize that I know it takes a hell of a lot of strength and tolerance to put up with me, I do.”
Jim puts the cloth into the bowl of water on the bedside table and reaches for the jar of ointment that M’Benga says to keep applying to Bones’ chest every hour. “There needs to be a hypo for this virus, Bones. There’s a hypo for damn near everything else, so I don’t understand why some doctor hasn’t figured out how to make an instant cure for this,” he says as he opens the jar and puts two fingers into the sticky ointment. “When we play doctor, the fun way with your grumbling and eye-rolling even as you get so hard that you can’t possibly deny it doesn’t turn you on, too, we aren’t gonna use this stuff. It smells bad, and I don’t like how the muscles in your cheeks spasm whenever I apply it.”
The ointment is warm on Jim’s fingers, and he knows it gets pretty hot if it’s left on skin for too long. He found that out when Bones was still in sickbay and Chapel put him to use helping instead of just getting in the way. Jim had to find out what the ointment actually did to Bones before he could just sit there and apply it since he doesn’t want to hurt him ever. Chapel caught him, of course, because that damn woman is almost as annoying as Bones when it comes to the odd gift for catching Jim doing stupid shit, and he had to endure a lecture about the sickbay not being a playground and about medications not being toys for his amusement that wasn’t nearly as sharp yet affectionate as Bones would have made it.
After Jim gets the ointment applied, he wipes off his fingers and rests his hand on Bones’ neck. He rubs his thumb over his Adam’s apple lightly and up along the underside of his chin. “I wonder if this is like being in a coma,” he murmurs. “Maybe you can hear me even if I’m practically whispering. I could hear you that time after Grot IV. I know I never said anything about it, but I remember every word you rasped in my ear when you thought I might never wake up. I know this is just a somewhat common virus, but it scares me a lot when you’re out for this long and not waking up. You can’t do this to me ever again, Bones. Understood? As your captain, I’m going to order you to never get sick or injured.”
Jim shifts on the bed, bringing his leg up so he can twist towards Bones more. “You remember how you talked about the future? About things neither of us have ever talked about. About life after space and how you’d make me stop being a reckless fool in another thirty years or so because you want us to get old and wrinkled together.” Jim licks his lips and strokes his thumb over Bones’ jaw as he leans down near Bones’ ear. “I want that, too. Even if I don’t know how to say it when you’re awake yet. And we’ll make it twenty years, because then maybe we can look into getting some kids or something.”
Bones shudders and his face starts getting sweaty again, so Jim gets the cloth and goes back to wiping off his face. The fever might finally be breaking, which is one of the last things he’s been told to watch for. Jim keeps talking as he takes care of Bones, keeping the damp cloth nearby and applying the ointment as instructed. An hour passes then another and his voice is starting to get hoarse from the different stories he’s told Bones and the confessions he’s made about how Bones makes him feel and what he wants in the future. It’s easier to talk about that stuff when Bones is passed out and Jim isn’t worried about finding the right words for something that is bigger than words.
Finally, Bones shifts and takes a gaspy breath that doesn’t lead into coughing or vomiting. Jim stops nuzzling his jaw, again, and brushes his knuckles along his temple. “That’s good, Bones. M’Benga said the breathing without fits is a positive thing,” he says softly.
“Jim?” Bones’ voice is low and rough, but the croaking of his name is one of the best damn things Jim’s ever heard.
“Bones? Are you awake? Well, of course you must be if you’re saying my name,” Jim stammers, his relief turning him into a complete imbecile. “You’ve been out for about twelve hours now.”
“Wh’ ’m I?” Bones slowly opens his eyes, blinking up at Jim.
“We’re in our room,” Jim explains, staring down at the glassy eyes and grinning. “God, I’ve missed seeing those.”
“Thir’y.” Bones blinks again and scowls.
“None of that,” Jim warns, moving his thumb over Bones’ lips before he gets the cup of ice chips that’s now a cup of water. He dips his fingers in and brings them to Bones’ mouth, letting the water drip onto his tongue. “You were throwing up in your sleep, so I don’t know if your throat is up to swallowing much yet.”
“Ge’ ‘p,” Bones says, grimacing as a coughing fit hits him.
“No getting up,” Jim tells him firmly. He touches his face more, still grinning even as Bones gives him a dirty look. “If you don’t stop that, I’ll call M’Benga and say you need to go back to sickbay. And you know that I’m the only person on this ship who can translate ‘sick and grouchy Bones’ so don’t force me to tell him that you’re asking for two weeks of bedrest.”
“Da’ ‘t, Jim.” Bones glares, or tries to as his eyes droop and his lips twist in pain when he coughs again.
“Shh. You need to stop trying to get out of bed and just let the virus finish running its course,” Jim tells him. He toes off his shoes and crawls up beside Bones, not paying any attention to the heat from the sticky ointment getting on his arm or the damp material of Bones’ pajamas as he curls up against him. “I’ve been taking good care of you. Spock and Sulu volunteered to take over my shifts so I could help get you all better.” Bones doesn’t need to know that they offered after Jim left the bridge in a panic after Bones first collapsed or that Spock was muttering about emotional compromises and contagious viruses at the time.
Bones rolls his heads on the pillow to look at Jim, the scowl fading as he stares. “No’ cal’n you, doc’r,” he mutters, leaning closer until his sweaty forehead is pressed against Jim’s.
“I’m a worried boyfriend, not a doctor,” Jim whispers, resting his palm against Bones’ cheek as he sighs. “When you’re all better, though, we’re going to play doctor, so there’s your incentive to kick this virus in the ass and get rid of it soon, okay?”
“Pervert,” Bones says, ducking his head as he starts coughing again.
“You manage to say that word perfectly clear, I notice,” Jim says, moving his hand down to gently stroke Bones’ chest before he twists around to get the bucket off the floor. “Here. Sounds like you’re gonna need this. I can recognize the signs now.” He holds the bucket for Bones, murmuring softly and then cleaning him up after. Bones grimaces but lets him. When they’re done, Jim curls back up against him, holding him tight. “That’s the first time in nearly three hours, so it’s getting better.”
“Feel like shit.” Bones sighs and leans into Jim’s body, which Jim knows means he wants more snuggling even if he’d drink sugarless instant tea before admitting it.
“It’ll be okay, Bones. I’ll take care of you,” Jim reassures him, tightening his grip as he holds him closer. He kisses his cheek and nuzzles his neck, saying ‘I love you’ just as loudly as Bones is when he strokes the back of Jim’s hand with his fingers and moves his leg to lie on top of Jim’s legs so he can’t move yet.
Tender Loving Captain
Story Notes:
November 23, 2009