Chapter Text
San Francisco. The crown jewel of the Northern California arts and cultural scene; home to some of the finest institutions of higher education, the most prestigious musical and cultural organizations, and the world's leading art and scientific collections. Sometimes, Leonard Horatio McCoy had to pinch himself to prove that he was really here.
Here was the Pike Museum of the Pacific Rim, the best private collection of Oceania artifacts in the archaeological world. The place to be to study the early peoples and cultures of Indonesia, Micronesia and Polynesia. Started by the son of a wealthy shipping magnate, the Pike Museum enjoyed not only the prestige of the academic community, but also the cooperation, albeit cautious, of the governments of the less wealthy nations of the region for Christopher Pike's interest in and willingness to assist in the preservation of their cultural history. Most of the collections were outright gifts and purchases acquired through proper channels. But for artifacts that fell into unknown provenance, Pike had wisely built into the agreements forged with cultural officials of each nation the proviso that their antiquities could be repatriated. Pike's skills as a diplomat, a serious student of history and archaeology, and his deep love for the region were some of the many things that drew McCoy to Christopher Pike and his museum.
And he was in charge.
Leonard McCoy, Ph.D., sometimes could not believe his luck in having been hired as Head Curator and Senior Researcher of the Pike Museum. Though he'd always imagined he'd be in the field, making the important discoveries as he had in his student days, he found the regular hours of a curator to be more conducive to family life. Even though that family no longer existed, he was still near his beloved daughter and had the time to spend with her. And that closeness he shared with Joanna kept the restlessness to go back to the field, back to the unpredictable, exciting and, frankly, dangerous work of archaeology, in check. For now.
As he walked through the beautiful museum with its state-of-the-art exhibit cases, expertly crafted presentations, and inspiring atmosphere, McCoy allowed himself to breathe a momentary word of thanks to the universe for his situation. Lenny, you are a long way from Georgia right now.
He stopped before one of the cases in the Sumatran section, gazing at the carved stone statues and other worked pieces, evidences of a rich, ancient culture in Pongdonan, South Sumatra: Excavation by Dr. Leonard H. McCoy & University of Georgia team. He heaved a short sigh. It was a long time ago, another life. Another person. He flexed his hand, feeling the slight pull of the scar which ran from the base of his index finger across the span of his palm, a reminder that life in the field can sometimes be unpredictable and dangerous . But then his eyes cut to the small empty space in the center of the ring of exquisitely crafted ancient idols. His personal 'holy grail', the one piece that still eluded him, and was likely to continue to elude him, given the current state of his life. It was just one artifact, just one small artifact that he had been unable to recover. Curling his fingers into a loose fist, he banged it lightly on the protective brass railing outside the case holding his finest discovery. And most devastating loss.
He turned on his heel and walked back to his lab.
~*~
Christopher Pike bit his cheek to keep from sighing aloud from the mind-numbing boredom. He did his duty, attended these events because his patrons were here and wanted to be seen with him, but it took all his considerable tact and skill to keep from bashing his head into the nearest wall after the fourth time his ass was patted by women more than old enough to be his mother. When not being groped, he spent his time deftly avoiding discussions of his personal life. He was not interested in being set up with so-and-so's third cousin!
So, it was with great joy that he spied Dr. Lance Cartwright step into the gallery. He gave Winifred Phillips his most winning smile, nodded to her granddaughter pleasantly before making his excuses and practically darted across the room.
"Dr. Cartwright! It is a pleasure to see you!" Pike smiled and held out his hand. "And where is your lovely wife?"
Lance Cartwright, Dean of the University of California-Berkeley's College of Letters and Sciences and Chair of the Phoebe A. Hearst Museum of Anthropology, clasped Pike's hand warmly, his eyes laughing. He had seen Pike's beeline escape and smiled with understanding and no small measure of humor at his colleague's plight. "Good afternoon, Chris. Vanessa sends her regards. She was busy this afternoon and, you know, Mrs. Phillips is not that bad," he lowered his voice conspiratorially as they moved toward an alcove near the entrance.
"Not that bad? She's determined to marry me off to someone – anyone – in her extended family!"
Cartwright chuckled and shook his head.
"I was glad to see you for more than a rescue operation, though."
"Oh? What's on your mind?"
"You've seen Leonard McCoy's latest paper?" Pike asked, cutting right to the chase.
Cartwright nodded. "I have. Quite impressive, if it can do all that he promises. Would revolutionize the entire field."
"It delivers, Lance. I've seen it, and that's what I've been meaning to talk to you about. It's proven itself in the lab, time and time again; its accuracy and speed are astounding, but it needs field testing." Pike's voice was ardent, his eyes shining, as he discussed McCoy's research.
Cartwright cocked his head thoughtfully. "You have something in mind?" he urged, having ideas of his own, but waiting to hear Pike out.
"I think we should collaborate. With Cal and the Hearst Museum on board, we'd have an easier time of convincing donors, and all Len – McCoy – needs is to get out in the field. You know his early work. He deserves this break. And we've identified a place in Indonesia, something totally new and unknown to the archaeological department; it's not even in Spock's database."
"You really believe in him, and think this new site will deliver?" Cartwright observed.
"AbsoluteIy. Len's got great instincts, and his knowledge is unparalleled. Wouldn't have hired him if I didn't think he was the best and the brightest," Pike affirmed. "What do you think about working together?"
Cartwright stroked his chin, his mouth pursed. Pike could see the cogs working.
"It's a possibility. I do have an enfant terrible that I'm ready to get out of my hair…"
Pike laughed. "Kirk?"
"Of course Kirk. He has no shame and thinks the rules apply to everyone but him." He leaned close and dropped his voice. "Seriously, rumors are that he's bedding a student… or two… and it'd be good if he was your problem for a while, or even better, off the continent altogether."
Pike coughed to cover up the laughter that threatened to burst forth. From what his sources at Berkeley had told him, it wasn't just a student that Kirk was bedding, but Cartwright's beautiful wife as well. Of course, the dean would be eager to get rid of his far too attractive and promiscuous professor. He stuck out his hand. "So we have a deal?"
Cartwright shook his hand and grinned. "You convince your board; I'll convince mine."
"Doctor McCoy!"
Leonard started, and turned, then growled at Christine Chapel, "Dammit, Chapel! Warn a guy, will you? You almost gave poor Pavel a heart attack!"
Pavel Chekov looked up from the computer console on which he was recording Doctor McCoy's readings, and shook his head, grinning, but wisely did not say anything. He might still be relatively new at the Pike Museum, but he had learned quickly enough not to get between the collections manager and the head curator.
"It's not Pavel I'm worried about. He's young and doesn't drink his meals." Chapel crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. "What are you still doing here? Aren't you having dinner at Pike's?" She glanced up at the clock. "You're going to be late."
McCoy grumbled, but pushed his rolling stool away from the electron scanning microscope console. "Why couldn't we have just done this month's meeting here? Like always?"
Chapel muttered, "Because Pike doesn't want you near breakable valuables."
"What?" McCoy stood up. "What the hell is going on, Christine? Spill."
"Uh-uh. I'm not ruining Pike's surprise." She tsked at his clothes. "And you can't go like that!"
McCoy looked down at his clothes. He was wearing faded Carhartt khakis, a worn black t-shirt, beat-up hiking boots, and two days worth of stubble. "It's just Pike. When he's not schmoozing, he practically lives back here. He knows what I look like."
"Dammit, Leonard! He owns the museum! You could at least show the man a little respect!"
"I do respect him. I just don't see how-"
Chapel threw her hands up in frustration. "Stop! Just…do.not.move!" She moved away and strode into his office.
McCoy did as ordered, but was mystified as to why she was going into his office. No matter. He trusted her above all others; they were used to living out of each other's pockets, especially with regard to their love lives, or lack thereof. He used Chapel's disappearance as an opportunity to finish giving Chekov some instructions on what to do next, so he was standing there smugly, his arms crossed; one eyebrow arched as Chapel walked back into the room.
She tossed him a maroon oxford. "There. At least change shirts. Or, no. Wait. Just put it on over the tee. Tuck them both in and leave a couple of buttons open."
McCoy was following Chapel's orders as she gave them. She stepped up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "There. You should have shaved, but you'll have to do. Now go!" She spun him around and gave him a shove between the shoulder blades, laughing.
McCoy muttered about 'insubordinate' and 'women too full of themselves' but hurried up the stairs, stopping on the landing when Scotty's 'Wait!' finally registered. He turned and waited until the Chief Engineer caught up.
"Hey, Doc! I got that case for the Balinese mask fixed. You want me to return it to the floor or not?"
"Good work, Mr. Scott!" McCoy clapped Scotty on the shoulder. "Go ahead and get it back on the floor; things are crowded enough in the back and the display needs that mask."
"Right. I'll get it done before I leave! Night, 'Doc!"
"Goodnight, Scotty! See ya' Monday," he called out as he reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into the warm, summer night.
Driving up the long, winding road to Christopher Pike's home gave McCoy time to reflect on things. The new artifact dating technique was showing great promise. Still need to fine-tune the 'scope to pick up on fragments better, but that's Pavel's bailiwick. Good thing we were able to snatch him up before he went elsewhere for his internship. Little bastard really knows his shit, Leonard mused, his mind on autopilot. Driving did that to him. Years of travel from the university to remote locations for digs had conditioned him to let his mind mull over the minutiae of life.
It also had the unintended result of his reflecting on the disaster that was his personal life. Fuck! Did I make the child support transfer this month? He thought hard about what day it was. It was the 5th--no, it's the 7th. He pulled out his smartphone and pushed the menu button. It is the seventh! God, where did those two days go? He made a mental note to look at his account when he returned home. Though, sometimes, returning home after meeting with Chris took a few days... Still, it meant that he remained in his shrew of an ex's good graces, and she in turn would be more magnanimous about allowing him to visit his daughter. He smiled at the thought of his lively child. 'God, eleven already! And sharp as a tack.' Joanna often accompanied him to the museum; her small hands made her especially valuable for working the tiny brushes on small artifacts. Her mother wasn't terribly pleased when he took her along on his work ("The dust and dirt, Leonard. It's not good for her sinuses.") but she loved it, and it was a bonding experience for daughter and father.
Unsettled by the remembrance of his last conversation with his ex, Leonard shifted in the seat of his beloved, beat-up, vintage pick-up truck. The sunset bathed the city below in an ethereal light. He slowed the truck, taking in the gathering gloaming, and felt his body relax. 'For all that I bitch about living in a city, San Francisco really is beautiful . . .'
Maria answered the door and gave him a wide smile. "You're late," she greeted, before striding past Leonard out the door. "Jefe is on the patio. Tell him dinner's in the warming oven. There's a pitcher of margaritas in the fridge. Carry those out to him, would you?" she called out as she got into her small car.
"Why the hurry? Got a hot date?" Leonard chuckled.
"As a matter of fact I do, Dr. Smartypants. So just shush, you. And stay out of the bourbon. For tonight's dinner only tequila allowed."
"Got it. Now be off with you!" Leonard lingered at the door as Maria clambered into her old car. When it fired up, he gave her a thumbs up.
Maria rolled the window down as she drove past. "If you're still here Monday morning, I'll make you huevos rancheros for breakfast, mi híjo."
Trying not to blush, Leonard waved her on with a shy smile. He and Chris had gotten predictable and wasn't that completely surprising, something that had started as just scratching an itch had gotten far too convenient and comfortable. Leonard waited a bit longer as he watched the car disappear behind the first bend, then he turned and walked into the mansion, closing and locking the door behind him. A stiff bourbon sounded better than margaritas, but Leonard wasn't brave enough to buck Maria. Hell, Chris wasn't even brave enough to do that and he paid the woman.
Smiling, he walked out to the patio carrying the tray with guacamole, fresh salsa, chips, and the pitcher. As usual Maria had gone out of her way for them, leaving complete meals with detailed instructions on their preparation. Leonard shook his head. Must be nice to be so pampered. He was lucky to eat frozen microwave meals. He was grateful for Maria, loved her, actually, for providing him with authentic cooking like he had grown accustomed to on the sites in Central America in his early college days.
When he looked up, he stopped for a moment and drank in the sights: the entire bay glittered below and Chris was sitting in a chair, completely oblivious to the view, his bare feet tapping as he strummed and played something Leonard recognized... Clapton, he swore it was... 'Same Old Blues'. Leonard swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Pike was a handsome man who wore suits well and always looked classy; but here, wearing faded jeans and an old black t-shirt, his hair a bit wild, eyes closed as he concentrated on his playing, he was nothing short of jaw- dropping gorgeous and sexy beyond all description.
Not wanting to disturb him just yet, Leonard quietly set the tray down and stood there, waiting and watching, enjoying the view and the music. The last strains drifted away and Chris opened his eyes, smiling softly when he saw Leonard. "Len! 'Bout time you got here!"
Leonard smiled and unfolded his arms. "Don't start! Maria already got all over me. I was working late... for you, remember?" He stirred the pitcher and poured the drink into two salted glasses. "Here. Maria insisted."
Chris took the offered glass after setting his guitar aside. "Thanks."
He stood and moved gracefully to Leonard's side. After a quick swallow, he set his drink down on the teakwood table, his eyes meeting Leonard's.
McCoy took a deep breath. Chris's cologne and the night blooming jasmine twining along the side of the patio filled his nostrils. He tasted the sweet-tart drink, savored the bite of the lime, the citrus of the Gran Marnier, and the lingering aroma of the tequila. He was not much of a tequila drinker, having done stupid things on spring break in college, all from too much of the stuff, but he wouldn't dare argue with Maria or his host. The luxuries afforded him on these rare weekends were not gifts to be denied.
He almost protested when Chris took his glass and set it beside his own, but his complaint was quickly silenced as Chris's mouth settled on his. He tasted of margarita, and of Chris, a familiar flavor--comfortable, casual, but still oh-so arousing. His hands moved with their own mind, one to Chris's strong bicep, the other behind his neck, holding him, drawing him closer. He was pulled tight, encircled in strong arms, pressed fully against Chris; the promise of the night, and the weekend to follow, hot on the tongue currently devouring him, washed over him.
"Mmm. Hello to you, too."
"Been looking forward to this all day," Chris murmured into his skin.
And if he were honest with himself, Leonard had been looking forward to their meeting, but not as keenly as Chris. He had been engrossed in his work. Chekov might be young, but he was a genius and had some great ideas that had panned out and really moved their research forward. And now he wanted to talk about work, wanted to tell Chris what they'd found, but that wasn't part of these weekends, at least not for Friday night. It was an agreement they had. No shop talk for at least the first night. So, Leonard drowned out the excited voice in his head, pressed their foreheads together, and chuckled. "You're just happy to see me because you want to get fucked through the mattress, and all those society dames don't have the right equipment."
Chris slid one hand down and gave Leonard's ass a firm squeeze. "Damn right. So what's your excuse? Because either you're glad to see me, or you brought some scroll from the collection with you."
Leonard gave him a slow, easy, wolfish grin. "Not a scroll, no." He leaned in to kiss Chris again, a slow, tongue-rolling kiss that had them both shivering when they finally broke apart. "A rod, steel, covered in soft velvet." Leonard pressed his hips into Chris's, eliciting a moan and fingers tightening in his hair. "All for you."
Chris's eyes narrowed to just slits as he rubbed his nose along the ridge of Leonard's cheek, the sides of his nose. Leonard breathed him in; damn, but he had missed this, missed the touch of another who found him desirable. Christine gave the best shoulder rubs and comforting hugs, but Chris Pike made him feel sexy, and Leonard McCoy did not do sexy -- not easily, anyway. He wondered why he didn't take advantage of Chris's affections more often, when Chris tugged on his hair, tumbling him back to his present company.
"Where'd you go?" Chris breathed in his ear, then traced the shell with his tongue. Leonard tightened his arms around him.
"Hmm, nowhere in particular. The land of good feelings called Chris."
Chris chuckled low and sweet, his chest vibrating. "That's pretty sappy, even for you, Len."
That snapped Leonard out of the warm bubble he'd been floating in. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?" he said sheepishly. He dropped his arms.
"Hey, hey." Chris reached for Leonard's wrist and brought it back to rest on his hip. "Not a criticism at all. Just that... you seem to be...I don't know....more willing, eager, this evening." Chris kissed him again.
Leonard sighed happily, content. "I've missed this, missed you, is all. Haven't seen you for a while."
Chris smiled broadly. "Missed me, huh? That's a first. Usually you're the first one out of a board meeting."
"Well yeah, because it's a board meeting. Not like I can kiss you or do this" -- he rubbed his erection against Chris's leg again -- "when you're giving your fundraising report."
"That would be distracting, yes," Chris said.
Leonard grinned. "Can you imagine Winifred Phillips's reaction, though?"
Chris laughed. "She'd drop dead of a heart attack, on the spot. And Doctor Pradhu would wet himself." He tightened his arms around Leonard, once more pulling them together before separating with a quick kiss to Leonard's nose. "Come on. If we don't eat all this, Maria will have my hide and accuse me of chaining you up in the bedroom for the whole weekend. She seems to think I have some say over you."
Leonard picked up his drink and shook his head. "She just assumes that I'm human and have fallen prey to the Pike charm... like every other red-blooded human being." He took another long swallow and then pulled out his chair. He had fallen for Chris's charm and who wouldn't? The guy was smart, good looking, sexy and compassionate, not to mention passionate about the things he believed in, and rich as sin. Leonard just couldn't figure out what the hell Chris saw in him.
Chris snorted and sat down. "If only the board consisted of red-blooded humans, we'd be golden. As it is, this economy's trashing the endowment and everyone's holding the purse strings tighter than a gnat's ass stretched over a rain barrel. We have extra fund-raising events planned; yes, you have to go, and no, I'm not breaking the 'no shop talk' rule. I haven't once asked you about the work. This is all gossip."
Leonard rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Throughout dinner, Chris took care to keep their glasses full, and Leonard noticed that his glass was filled far more often than Chris's. Something was up, but in all honesty, Leonard didn't care. It felt good and right to be here, Maria's famous casserole decimated, a pitcher of margaritas downed, and Chris leaning back, stretching out with cat-like grace before he placed his bare feet in Leonard's lap.
They both sighed and looked out at the bay, San Francisco spread beneath them, jewels next to the dark ocean, and then Chris's feet were in his lap, causing him to feel something else entirely. "What is it with you and shoes? You think you're a hobbit?"
Chris ducked his head, smiling to himself. Leonard's accent always thickened when he was tired or had too much to drink. Now was a combination of that and sharp arousal. The two of them might not do this often enough, but the routine was still there and it was hard to wait, hard to keep from reaching out and grabbing Chris and taking what they both wanted. His voice didn't help Leonard's restraint.
Chris slowly tilted his head. "C'mon. I think we've done the polite thing long enough." He stood and tugged Leonard up, raking his hands through already tousled hair, enjoying how the flames from the tiki torches sparkled in the depths of his eyes, bringing out the golden flecks.
Leonard was surprised by Chris's sudden moves and he quickly found himself pulled close, fingernails raking his scalp and he moaned. Damn the sexy bastard! Chris knew every little thing that got to him and was using each one of them to his advantage. He gasped as a foot slid up his calf and then his mouth was seized and he finally reacted, bringing his hands up and sliding them under Chris's shirt. He was met with soft skin covering hard muscle.
Chris moaned. Leonard skated his hands along the warm flesh, loved the feel of Chris, his body and mouth pressing close. He still marveled that this man wanted him, but quickly shut down that line of thinking. He was here to enjoy and he was going to. He dipped his head, his mouth sliding leisurely down Chris's cheek to his neck where he mouthed and nipped as his hands roamed higher.
"What do you want, Len?" Chris asked. "Or rather, how do you want it?"
Leonard's breath stuttered and he had to stop moving. He licked his lips and looked up, his eyes blown wide. "Not here," he barely rasped out.
"Come on then." Chris pulled at his hands, and took one. He started to lead him inside the house.
Chris's bedroom was on the second floor, a large suite of connecting rooms, with a balcony that overlooked the city; it was one of Leonard's favorite places, beside Chris's bed, of course. He followed Chris eagerly, enjoyed the view of Chris's ass in his jeans, wanted him out of those jeans.
He stumbled mid-way up the stairs. "Are you all right?" Chris asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Yeah, just...where's the fire, Chris?"
"It's in my pants. Haven't seen you in a while."
Leonard chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't believe you said that!" He stopped on the landing, trying to keep from smiling.
"It's true, though. I'm...God, Len. I've missed being with you. Missed feeling your hands on me." Chris paused at the doorway to his bedroom, and pulled him in for a bruising kiss.
Leonard opened to him immediately, relishing the feel of Chris's eager tongue in his mouth and his hands kneading his ass. He worked his hands up under the soft t-shirt, skimming his fingers through his wiry chest hair. He loved Chris's body, how he felt under his hands. "Want to see you. You're not the only one who's missed this."
Chris tugged at Leonard's shirt, pulling the tail out of the waist of his jeans, and reached for the bottom button, slipping it open. "Want you all night, all weekend, Len."
Leonard blinked and tried to catch his breath. "Not going anywhere... 'cept maybe that nice, big bed you got..." He wriggled and let Chris open his shirt as he backed toward the bed. Chris and his damn low, sexy voice had him already so hard he barely knew his own name.
Chris reached for his belt. "Then let's get into that bed." He worked the buckle loose and pulled the leather strap slowly through the loops. His hand brushed over the prominent bulge. "Mmm..." he hummed, and licked his lips. He opened the buttons of his fly, one by one, and then slipped his hands around his waist and pushed the jeans down to Leonard's thighs. One hand found its way back to his front and pressed all the length of his hard cock, while the other cupped the swell of one cheek.
Leonard tried to help, but he was uncoordinated, pressing forward even as he almost tripped backwards, and then he was free of his jeans and he cried out, "Fuck, Chris!" as his body rocked between Chris's hands.
He couldn't take it. He was panting, hungry and desperate. He nudged Chris's chin up, sealed their lips together and pushed his cock harder against Chris's hand as he moaned. His head was spinning before he ripped his mouth away, gasping. "Fuck me. Now, dammit!"
Chris scrambled to ditch his jeans as fast as he could. He pushed impatiently at his briefs and his cock sprang free. "God, Len, when you beg me for it like that...god." He crawled onto the bed and covered Leonard's body with his; a groan escaped at contact with warm skin and soft hair. Chris captured his lips in a frantic, heated kiss as Leonard's hands roamed everywhere. He broke the kiss, panting. "Gotta have you now." He rolled over and opened the drawer of the bedside table, finding a tube of lube and a condom. "Gonna need a lot of those," he said with a smirk.
Leonard scrabbled for purchase against Chris's skin. "Fuck, yeah!" he agreed, eagerly scooting up the bed and spreading his legs.
Chris smiled at Leonard's eagerness. "Just look at you, spread open and willing for me. Fuck, Len. You couldn't be any sexier than you are right now." He flipped open the lid of the lube and coated his fingers with it. "Mmm...gonna touch you now. Make you feel so good."
Leonard huffed out a breath. "Only because you melt my brain. You and that fuckin' sexy guitar playing." His blood was roaring in his veins and he marveled that he could string two words together. His whole body tightened in anticipation. "Just hurry, dammit! I don't need your teasing right now."
Chris's amusement died when he saw the fire in Leonard's eyes. His finger circled the entrance, spreading the lube around and slid one finger in, moving it in and out; he added a second finger. "Fuck, that's..." Chris muttered. He added a third finger and Leonard's breath hitched.
"Enough!" Leonard half-growled, half moaned. "I won't break!"
"I know you won't, but I don't want to hurt you. Now, patience, man. Let me do this right." Chris stilled his hand, adding more lube. He started the slow fucking again, while Leonard squirmed. At his growl, Chris pulled out slowly. "You are...fuck." He tore open the condom package with his teeth and rolled it onto his dick; Leonard had to breathe slowly to control his reaction, he was so aroused and ready.
He grabbed at the lube, squeezed a dollop onto his palm and slicked Chris's cock. He bit his lip to keep from moaning as he thought of that hard flesh spearing him. "Do it." He released Chris and grabbed his knees, spreading himself wide.
Chris placed his hands on either side of Leonard's head and lowered his head for a kiss. He controlled it, slowly, rhythmically rolling his tongue around Leonard's. Leonard rolled his head to and fro, but Chris moved with him. Leonard felt a little frustrated, and a lot aroused, but he knew Chris was determined to make him wait, make him want it bad.
"Ass!" Leonard huffed quietly, his body tensing as Chris chased his mouth. He bit down when he finally snared Chris's lower lip. Panting, he let go of his knees and reached up to tug Chris down. He arched upward, aligning his cock, trying for more, anything.
Chris smiled evilly. "What did I say, Leonard? Patience."
"God damn cruel bastard! What does a guy have to do get fucked around here?"
With that, Chris looked down, lined his cock up with Leonard's entrance and pushed in. "That what you wanted?"
"F-f-fuuuck," Leonard stuttered; his body tightened and arched up as his eyes slammed shut. Chris stretched him wide, his blood thrummed, and he shuddered, his legs spreading and his arms reaching to grab hold.
"This what you want, what you need?" Chris asked. Leonard was tight and hot around his dick. He started pumping in long, slow thrusts, in slowly, then pressing his hips upward as his pubis touched Leonard's balls; he pulled out quickly, and thrust in again, slowly and pushing against his balls.
Leonard couldn't make his mouth form words, a soft keening sound was the best he could do as Chris drove him wild with his targeted, hard thrusts. He let go of Chris and lifted his hands to the headboard and bore down, meeting each of Chris's thrusts as he wrapped his legs around Chris's waist.
Encouraged, Chris pushed and pulled faster. He changed his angle, aiming upwards to slide across Leonard's prostate. As he did, Leonard let out a louder moan and then let loose with a stream of expletives. "Fuck, yeah," Chris muttered, then changed to a stuttering rhythm that had him pounding into Leonard's prostate constantly.
Leonard was already so close, and damn him, but Chris knew exactly how to play his body. He was so close, his whole body trembling as he clenched his muscles, bearing down on Chris's cock as he swore. Slowly he steadied himself and reached down, ready to stroke himself off. It wouldn't take much now.
Chris batted away his hand. "Mine," he said, "all mine." Leonard's cock was wet with pre-come; instead of taking it in his hand, Chris lowered his body, trapping it between them. That allowed him to kiss Leonard, a kiss that nearly stole his breath away.
If Leonard had been more coherent, less needy, he might have been embarrassed by his whine that was quickly swallowed by Chris's heated kiss. He arched up, his whole body coiling tightly. "Please? Fuck, Chris! I need..."
"Giving you what you need, Leonard," Chris wheezed. He pressed his abdomen to Leonard's harder, his skin slick with pre-come and sweat.
"Wha- what... I need?" He threw his head back and flung his arms around Chris, his whole body trembled and then the coil sprung, his orgasm overtaking him and he arched up off the bed, a long, low moan ripped from his throat as the world whited out.
As Leonard came down from his high, he heard Chris hiss, "Len," low and desperate. Chris tensed and gasped, and stuttered as Leonard watched his face curl into the moue of release. Leonard grasped the man's biceps and squeezed his knees to Chris's waist, grounding him in warmth and skin that would be at once freeing and comforting. When his orgasm ended, Chris lowered himself to lie to the side. Chris was considerate like that, a generous lover, an excellent lover.
Leonard melted into the bed, his eyes were too heavy and he gave in, let them stay closed. He felt Chris still above him, heard his name and warmth rushed through his. He tried to shift, to turn into Chris, but he couldn't move. "Damn overachiever. I think you fucked my brains out my ears." He blinked sleepily at Chris and gave him a soft, crooked grin.
Chris ran his fingers through Leonard's sweaty hair. "Nope. No brain matter on the bed." He huffed a short laugh. "But I will admit to being an overachiever."
"C'mere," Leonard murmured as he fruitlessly tugged at Chris, his arms too boneless to make much headway, but Chris humored him and shifted closer, their breaths mingling as they kissed tenderly. "We need to do this more often."
"How about again in a few hours? That more often for you?" Chris teased. Leonard felt Chris's hand still as he grew quiet. He wanted nothing more than to have Chris claim him again, but the reality was that he wanted to fall asleep that very moment. Through heavy eyelids he watched as Chris shifted, stripped the condom off and tossed it to the side, hopefully into a trash can; then he settled back beside him. After several minutes, he felt Chris shift his leg and that encouraged Leonard to maneuver to roll over closer to him. He felt Chris stretch again, probably to find a comfortable position; when Chris finally stilled, Leonard threw his arm about his chest in utter contentment.
"Mmm..." Leonard murmured his agreement, Chris's warmth making him drowsy. "You have a comfy bed." His eyes fought to stay open.
He felt Chris's answering chuckle rumble through his body. "Then, sleep, Leonard." He yawned hugely. Then he felt Chris sit up and pull the sheet and blanket up around them, making sure they were well covered. Leonard hummed as the blanket settled over him, and rolled back slightly to make room for Chris to lay beside him again. He then wriggled into Chris's warmth and arms again. And with that, they both fell asleep.
He awoke to the first bright light of morning. Often, San Francisco mornings started off with thick, gray fog, so it was a surprise to a native such as Christopher Pike to arise to the sun. He slid from the bed, careful not to disturb the still-slumbering Leonard. The temperature was chilly, but he opened the doors to the balcony anyway, stepping out to survey the peaceful city.
He shivered in the cool breeze. Perhaps walking around naked wasn't the wisest choice. He placed his hands on the stone ledge and leaned into them, thinking about what was coming. It wouldn't be easy telling Leonard about the plans he was making for the museum. He had absolutely no doubt that Leonard McCoy was the best in the field and that the museum was damn lucky to have him. But he needed to move the museum forward, needed to push Leonard just a bit off center, give him a nudge to get that big, sexy brain of his something more to think on. And if this doesn't do it, nothing will, he thought.
His shivering turned violent, so he returned to the bedroom, shutting the doors behind him. Leonard hadn't moved a centimeter from his tidy sprawl, a soft snore sounding in the silent room. Chris pulled on a robe and headed to the bathroom; returning, he considered going downstairs to start a pot of coffee and maybe make some biscuits. But he was still cold and then he yawned. "Fuck it," he muttered. He tossed the robe carelessly onto the foot of the bed and climbed back in. He pressed his chilled flesh to Leonard, who squirmed and made an adorable hum, but never opened his eyes. Soon, the warmth of the bed and the deep even breathing of his partner lulled Chris back to sleep. Anything he needed to say could wait.
Chris awoke for a second time, stretched, and leaned up on his elbow to gaze at his bed partner. He stroked his hand down Leonard's chest, lightly dragged fingernails along loose, sprawled limbs. The other man's eyes were closed, and Chris knew without seeing them that they were that soft dark green of evergreens in spring. Without his corrective lenses, Leonard's blurry gaze never settled for long, making his usual scowl almost wistful. Sated and relaxed, Leonard's face and his furrowed brow were smooth, revealing to Chris that his bedmate was content, or as content as he ever was. Taking a deep breath, knowing he'd delayed long enough, Chris licked his lips and brushed a soft kiss to Leonard's temple.
He whispered, "Leonard, just wanted to let you know something... 'bout a new opportunity for the museum."
Leonard's eyes blinked open, then fluttered a few times and stubbornly closed once again. "You're breakin' the rules. No shop talk, 'member?"
Chris smiled at the heavy accent and slurred words, hating that he was likely going to wake Leonard up fully with his news. "It's Saturday... and I think you'll be interested in this."
Leonard huffed and turned into Chris's warmth, his breath brushing against the older man's lightly furred chest. "Unless it's the find of the century... with my name on it, don't care... tell me later... maybe tomorrow... or Monday."
Chris ran a cool hand over Leonard's back, soaking up the other man's warmth and then smiled sadly, giving up. He had already put it off too long. Leonard had work to do and no matter what happened, there really was no choice for any of them. The board had signed on and Kirk was chomping at the bit. "You're getting a shot to go back to Sumatra. Field work to put your equipment to the test."
Leonard's eyes flew open. "Field work? How? Thought you said that money's tight. How's the museum going to fund this?"
Chris licked his lips and pressed their foreheads together. "The uni-- Berkeley's Hearst Museum's got a hotshot field archaeologist who's made some interesting finds...."
Leonard's interest was piqued. He frowned at Pike. "The Hearst doesn't have a Pacific Rim collection."
"They're working on it. They snagged this guy from UCLA. Did some good work on some of the smaller islands off the western Sumatra coast during his grad days there under Boyce, and been getting some attention."
Leonard pulled away and cocked his head at Chris. "Go on. Who is the hotshot and when do we start? I take it this takes priority over everything else?"
Chris didn't answer right away. He had hoped that Leonard would concentrate on the field work opportunity and not on the researcher. "Well. . ."
Leonard blinked, waiting, but his eyes slowly widened, darkening. "Wait a second! You're not seriously expecting me to work with that guy? What…who…that Kirk guy?"
Chris breathed slowly, but he could only confirm Leonard's suspicion with a tiny nod.
"No! Not only no, but hell no! What the fuck does that strutting, self-important peacock really know about the region?" Leonard sat up, distancing himself from Chris. "He's just a pretty face with nothing to back it up! Probably slept his way through his degree and paid Dr. Spock to do his leg work! If you hire him, I'll quit." His face was mutinous, his arms crossed over his chest. Chris could tell he was furious, but with his bed-head hair and sleep-creased face, it was hard to take his ire too seriously, or so Chris hoped.
Chris sat up quickly, wrapping his arms around Leonard, pulling him close. "You're not going anywhere. We're going to talk about this. Like adults. Reasonable adults." Chris fought with Leonard, tugged his arms, finally cheated by biting at that spot behind his ear that made him weak. He whispered, "Len, you need this. It's a great opportunity for you to return to the field and get the leg work in that you need. Besides, now that the board's involved, you don't have a choice. It won't be so bad. You'll see." He rolled them both over so they were horizontal in the bed again.
"Fuck you!" he growled, even though Chris could feel his body responded to the light bite and teasing suction. Chris's re-awakened arousal pushed against Leonard's butt, sending a shiver through his partner. "You fight dirty."
Chris still held on, but stroked one hand soothingly down Leonard's arm. "I'll admit it was half my idea. I didn't do it to piss you off, and I stand by my decision -- it's good for business, but more importantly, it's good for you." He tugged Leonard back, rolling his back flat onto the bed, but the other man wouldn't meet his eyes. Chris sighed and straddled him. He wasn't going to let him run away from reality. "C'mon, Len. You've been dying to be back in the field and your artifact dating equipment needs testing. It's worked out in the lab, but this is your opportunity to prove it to the world."
"Goddammit, Chris! Get off me!" Leonard shoved at Chris, but the older man did not budge. He just looked down at Leonard with far too much understanding in his eyes.
Leonard turned to the side, his chest aching, refusing to look up at Chris. He really didn't want to think about this. He didn't need a damn assistant, and he sure as hell didn't need a no-talent ass like James T. Kirk.
Chris reached down, cupped Leonard's cheek, stroked his thumb over the soft stubble and sighed, his own shoulders drooping. He stretched out beside Leonard, wrapping his arms around him and pulling his back to his chest. "I'm sorry, Len. I am. The board's given me... you... any of us, no choice. With the endowment suffering, they need a draw. The university needs our facilities... your skill and knowledge. From the board's side, it's a match made in heaven."
"Yeah, with Cal's rising star's name on every goddamned thing. I'll be lucky to be more than a foot note." Leonard's tone was bitter, the taste of past triumphs turned to the ash of lost opportunities.
"Can you at least give this Kirk a chance? He might not be the asshole you believe him to be and your name will be on everything. I won't let you be left out," Chris vowed.
"Why the fuck should I?"
"Because it's orders from on high. And you still have child support payments to make. It pays the bills, Len," Chris replied softly, genuinely concerned.
"Like you know what that's like, Mr. Trust Fund," Leonard grumbled, pissed and unhappy, but Chris was right and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. He sure as hell couldn't afford to walk away from the job. "I'm not going to be nice to the kid and I'm not explaining a damn thing. If he's not smart enough to keep up, then he doesn't deserve to be there."
It was the best concession Chris could get and at least Leonard hadn't said he was going to murder the guy in his sleep. "Deal." He sealed their lips together, insistent and hungry, wanting to make Leonard forget all about Kirk. At least, for the moment.
Jim strode into the lab and clapped his colleague on the shoulder. "Seriously, man, what the hell was so urgent that I had three voicemails and four texts? You discover Atlantis or something?"
Hikaru Sulu turned and threw Jim's hand off his shoulder as he leveled a hard look at him. "Where the fuck have you been?"
Jim stepped back and raised his hands. "Chill. I was in the collections area in the basement. You know cell phones don't pick up a signal down there."
"The basement? What for?"
Jim sighed and gave Sulu a sideways leering grin. "I was showing Mrs. Cartwright around. She wanted a 'tour'."
Sulu closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You were fucking the dean's wife in our basement? Literally under Cartwright's nose? Are you insane?" Sulu opened his eyes and shook his head.
"Hey, man, you know me better than that! She wanted a tour... wanted to let her fingers do the walkin' is more accurate." Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to fend off Mrs. Grabbyhands for an hour without insulting her?"
"Man, I am sooo glad I do not have your life!"
Jim chuckled. "It's not so bad and you know my taste runs more to Winston anyway."
Sulu shook his head. "You are certifiable. Bedding the dean's son while being chased by the dean's wife. I don't get you."
"No one does, my man. No one does." Jim dropped into the chair next to Sulu and grabbed the notepad he had been annotating. Jim scanned the results and frowned. They really needed a better way of dealing with dating artifacts. This was too slow and cumbersome and too prone to errors. Just now, he caught a mistake one of the grad students had made and it affected the dating and proper placement of the pottery shard.
Jim bit his lip and flipped through the pages. He snagged a red pencil and circled possible mistakes all while trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. Even Sulu thought he was a slut. Behind his friend's teasing words was a hint of the truth as he saw it. It wasn't Jim's truth or reality, but a long time ago Jim had learned to use whatever assets he had and he wasn't going to change his ways just because some dean's wife thought he'd be good in the sack. He'd keep her and the rest at arm's length all while making them believe they had more of him than they did.
Tossing the notepad back on the table, he nudged Sulu's arm to pull his gaze from the microscope. "So, really, what was so important?"
"Oh, shit! Cartwright's looking for you! Sorry, man! You better get up to his office... and quick!"
Jim frowned. "Hmmm. Wonder what he wants? Did he say?"
Sulu shook his head. "Nope. Just that it was important and that I was to 'track you down'."
"Good job you did with that!" Jim laughed and stood up. "First drink's on you for waiting so damn long to tell me."
Sulu protested, but Jim ignored him as he hurried out the door and took the stairs two at a time.
"You're shittin' us?" Nyota Uhura said, her eyes growing wide.
Leonard leaned against the counter. "Wish I was."
Christine dropped into the chair beside him. "From what I've heard, Jim Kirk has the goods. Friend of mine--you remember Roger Korby, right? Tall guy with glasses we met at the last Cal State Archaeology Society meeting? Anyway, Roger went to school with Jim at UCLA and said he's good. Did his master's program in one year, Ph.D. in three. Which is practically unheard of at LA. Philip Boyce runs a mean program. Puts his students through the mill and then grinds them up again just for fun. Kirk must've set his pants on fire about something if he signed off on his dissertation that fast."
"Well, I've heard from friends there that Kirk slept his way through many pairs of pants," Nyota sniffed. "Charmed his way out of the grunt work every graduate student has to do. Got to work only with collections and not with undergrads. And he may or may not have slept with a few professors."
"Oh, come on, Nyota!" Christine interjected, throwing up her hands. "That's such a cliché! No one gets their doctorate by sleeping with the professor. Besides, I happen to know Boyce is strictly heterosexual."
"Hey, it's what I've heard. He's--"
"Okay, y'all, that's enough," Leonard said, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "This isn't a gossip circle. I think Kirk is a lightweight. He hasn't published anything worth reading of late, but I think we need to keep his personal life outta the lab."
"Not if it's having a direct impact on our work, Len," Nyota said. "I don't want to have to constantly watch a colleague for any sexual harassment or--"
"Nothing of the sort will be tolerated, Nyota," Leonard said sternly. "Absolutely not. If Kirk comes on board he'll have to abide by the same employment rules we all do."
"Well, he'd better. Because I won't hesitate to kick his ass if he tries anything funny."
"And I'd expect nothing less from you if he does, darlin'," Leonard said, smiling. "Then we can all get in line and kick it some more."
That seemed to lighten the mood as everyone laughed.
"Leonard, you haf more to tell us, yes?" Pavel asked. "You said you had good news and bad."
"Oh, yeah, thanks, Pavel. Right." He rubbed his hands together. "Okay, so the bad news has been thoroughly worked over. The good news is that we're headed into the field."
His announcement was greeted by several seconds of silence, and then everyone began talking at once: "Where are we going?" "Are we all going to get to go?" "Who's going to run the museum?" "When are we going?" "Did Pike say--"
"People! Cool your jets," Leonard said, laughing. "Anyone who wants to go, can. And we're going to Sumatra."
Christine leapt up and wrapped her arms around Leonard's neck. "Oh, Len! This is what you've been waiting for!" she said.
Leonard was a little surprised by Christine's emotional response, but he had to admit that it felt damn good, and not just because he was being hugged tightly by his lovely co-worker. "I know," he replied quietly. "I couldn't believe it when Chris told me the board had approved the proposal. She released him, but stood close. "So here's the deal: the Hearst is kicking in some money, and now all we have to do is raise the final portion of the cost and we're on our way."
"Ooh, the Hearst," Nyota said. "Wait--that's where Kirk is right now? The Hearst?"
"Assistant Curator of the Pacific Rim collection," Leonard replied.
"Dear God," Nyota said in disbelief.
"Okay, let's not go there again," Leonard said. "So Chris is going to get the fundraiser organized in the next week or so. Nyota darlin', I think he's going to need a little bit of your classy help. So if you need to shuffle the schedule around with the school visits, do it."
"We're good at the moment. Next month is going to be wicked, though."
"Right. Christine, let's bring some of the Sunda Shelf pieces out, reorganize what we have on exhibit right now, and make it all look shiny and new."
Christine sat down at her desk and started taking notes. "Emphasis on Sumatra?"
"And Bali. We might get there during this trip, just to check on one of the sites, if we can get the funding together."
She hit a few keys and brought up the collections database. "I'll print off the inventory and we can start pulling objects in a few minutes."
"Great, thanks."
Leonard walked into his office and shut the door quietly. His work table was stacked with artifact boxes of all sizes, the beginning of another research project and a paper for the upcoming Pacific Rim Archaeological Society in Auckland. He was planning to take Joanna with him since the meeting fell during one of her school breaks. It was going to be an easy meeting--give one paper, participate in a panel, and then off to explore New Zealand for the rest of the week. But now, with the nascent organization of a major field expedition to his most favorite place on Earth--well, that threw everything into question, didn't it? He sighed, torn between his love of pure research and the hopeful, growing excitement of finally returning to the island that captured his heart and launched his career. But the thought of having to share that with Jim Kirk, of all people, cast a slight pall on the overall excitement and giddiness. "We'll just have to put that aside for now," he mused to himself, as he called up his research notes on the Sunda Shelf pieces he wanted to highlight for the fundraiser. As he poured over the information and looked at the accompanying images of the pieces, he began to smile, despite himself.
Maybe it won't be so bad after all.
Leonard took a seat next to Pavel's desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He might be less than thrilled at the upcoming meeting, but he'd promised Chris that he'd behave and he'd be damned if his staff would give Chris any reason to doubt their professionalism. He rolled his eyes at Nyota's suspicious posture and Christine's closed-off face. At least Pavel seemed to be withholding judgment, but then again, Leonard never really knew what was going on behind those wide blue eyes and that innocent face.
"Okay, people. Listen up. Pike is going to be here in a few minutes to introduce Jim Kirk and..." he paused, took a quick look at the e-mail he'd printed out, before continuing, "Hikaru Sulu. And we're going to be on our best behavior." He hated office politics, playing nice; lying is what he always thought of it as, but he knew it was a necessity, especially in his field.
Nyota just rolled her eyes, her stance not giving an inch. "I'm always on my best behavior, Leonard," she countered, her voice coldly sweet.
"Ny. Just..." he ran a hand through his hair, sighing inwardly. He didn't like this anymore than his staff did. "Keep it professional. For Pike and the museum's sake. We wouldn't want Kirk and Sulu to go back to the Hearst saying bad things about us."
"We'll be consummate professionals, Len." Christine glanced over at Nyota and gave her a conspiratorial wink.
And wasn't that exactly what he was afraid of?
Before Leonard could say anything more, or ask after Scotty's whereabouts, the man himself rushed into the lab. He was wiping his hands on a rag, which he tossed onto the nearest work bench. "Sorry, 'm late. Was installing that new-fangled digital track lighting at the entrance." He finally looked around and skidded to a halt, his eyes darting around to the others. "I'm not late?"
"Right on time, Scotty," came Pike's baritone from the doorway. He strode in, his presence filling the room, all eyes turning to him. Leonard straightened, standing from where he'd been leaning against his desk.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce our newest colleagues, Drs. James T. Kirk and Hikaru Sulu." Pike stepped more fully into the room and two men followed. Leonard was suddenly glad that Nyota and Christine had done such thorough research. Leonard had been totally unfamiliar with Sulu, but now knew that the young man was a skilled bush pilot, a trained archaeologist who had cut his teeth at his parents' side at digs throughout Asia and Korea, and Jim Kirk's closest friend. Now if he could only figure out why Sulu stuck by Kirk.
Leonard had been musing about Sulu, his gaze off in the distance, until his attention was pulled back to the room by Jim's voice.
Jim wasted no time, didn't even wait for Pike to make the introductions. He stepped forward and held his hand out to Christine who took it. "You must be Christine Chapel, one of the best collections managers in the industry." He smiled and his blue eyes danced as his hand lingered, holding Christine's just a trifle longer than polite. He lowered his voice just enough for theatrics, but was still clearly heard. "I'd recruit you for the Hearst -- we need a manager of your caliber -- if I wasn't certain Pike'd have my head for even suggesting it."
Christine dropped her hand, the slight flush on her cheeks revealing. She laughed lightly and shook her head. "You could try, Doctor Kirk, but I'm happy here. I have freedom that I'd never have at a public institution."
"Can't blame a guy for trying." He shrugged. "And, please, call me Jim. With all the titles floating around here, anything else'd get confusing fast."
Charming bastard was all that Leonard could think as he watched Jim work the room.
"Ms. Nyota Uhura." Jim turned to Nyota and took her gracefully offered hand, turning it and kissing it like he was some sort of French diplomat. "I have long looked forward to meeting you. Your programs are truly inspirational, and your linguistic skills, legendary. I've so wanted to work with you on Hindi manuscripts."
Nyota's eyes narrowed, but she kept her lips from curling suspiciously and her voice was mildly pleasant, if formal. "Thank you. It is always gratifying to think that one has made a difference."
Scotty stepped up and offered his hand. "Good to meet you. I'm--"
"Montgomery Scott, wizard of the Pike, guru with environmental systems, a security systems genius, and the things you can do with only a pair of needle nose pliers..." Jim finished, laughing, his left hand gripping Scotty's shoulder familiarly. "You've worked miracles here in this old building and I look forward to learning your secrets."
"Well, not all my secrets, mind," Scotty replied and, surprisingly, he was smiling.
Leonard looked up and met Chris's eyes. He snorted at the rather smug expression Chris wore. At least he was pleased with Jim's performance, even if he had no idea that his staff was currently only humoring the brash young man because Chris was there.
Leonard tore his eyes away from Chris only to find that Jim was staring at him. He was suddenly pinned by the measuring blue gaze before he cocked his head, breaking the moment. He growled internally. He was not the one being judged here!
"And you are obviously Pavel Andreievich Chekov," Jim said, turning to shake Pavel's hand. Jim glanced over his shoulder and Sulu smiled, stepping forward, his hand extended in greeting. "I think you and Sulu will be fast friends. He's the genius with the 'scope on my team." He gently pointed Pavel toward Sulu and stepped back to watch.
Pavel gave Jim and Sulu a genuine smile and eagerly shook hands, the sudden chattering between them quickly dropping into the background as Pavel led Sulu to his desk and the ESEM console at the rear of the lab.
Now it was Leonard's turn to 'play nice' so he straightened, pushing away from the desk as he extended his hand. "I'm--"
"Doctor Leonard McCoy. I know." Jim took his hand and shook it, giving Leonard the brightest smile that he had ever seen. It was as though Jim Kirk was lit from the inside. "'God, McCoy, your early work was stunning," Jim said with admiration as he pumped Leonard's hand. "It's a shame you couldn't follow up, but your dissertation on Indonesia was a great starting point for my own research."
Leonard quickly pulled his hand away, praying that no one saw how Jim's comment stung. He breathed deeply and plastered on as pleasant a face as he could manage even as he died a little inside. Thing is, he liked working for Pike. Liked and respected his colleagues, which was often a rare thing. And Christine was right. If he was still back at Georgia, he'd be constrained on all sides: family and scrambling for grant money to fund his research would be the least of his worries. He'd have to worry about teaching... work with students again, kowtow to administrators, teach a pre-set curriculum, and publish at a designated pace. He might not be in the field, but he was doing good work, important work, and he'd be damned if he'd let some cocky upstart talk down to him.
"So you've been to Indonesia? Lucky for us the robbers didn't get you. Would have been a tragedy." Leonard tried, but failed, to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Jim's smile dimmed slightly, but he didn't back off. "Robbers? They didn't give my team any problems." He waved his hand airily. "The tragedy was having to leave and spend the past six months here, trying to sort through the mess. But I vowed I'd be back and finish what I started... find the rest...." He let his voice trail away, and Leonard wondered just what he'd been about to say.
Before he could ask, or call Jim on his flippant attitude toward the robbers--brigands was a better description, Chris pushed away from where he was standing and intervened. "That's about all we have time for right now. I have to take Jim here to meet some members of the board." He smirked at Leonard, well knowing that there'd be no rush to join him. "And if there are no volunteers to accompany us, we'll be off."
Jim gave the room a smile. "It was a pleasure," he said, giving Leonard a sharp glance back over his shoulder as he trailed Chris out of the room.
Leonard waited until the door closed to grumble, "Pleasure, my ass."
Leonard looked up from his monitor at the clock and shook his head. Kirk was late... again. In the four weeks he'd been on staff, Jim Kirk had yet to appear at his desk at the appointed time. He huffed out an exasperated breath. The kid was probably happily chatting with the staff, unconcerned that he was keeping Leonard waiting. He was always on, always schmoozing and never seemed to walk in a straight line anywhere -- he'd always beeline for the nearest hand to shake or ear to charm. Damn butterfly.
As Leonard turned his focus back to the screen, he rolled his eyes as Kirk's cheerful voice floated into the far corner of the lab. The guy was definitely all show. So far he hadn't seen much from Kirk except a lot of talk. Well, today he'd have to put up or shut up.
"What's shakin', Bones?" Jim greeted as he straddled the chair nearest Leonard. He didn't even bother to turn the chair around.
Leonard clamped his jaw shut and glared at the screen until the hot flare of annoyance faded. "You're late, Kirk. I don't know how things work where you're from, but around here we start bright and early and the work comes first. You can..." He turned to continue his harangue, to point out that they only had two weeks until the fundraiser, but the words died on his lips. Jim Kirk was giving him the most. . . well, the only way to describe it was a gorgeously coy smile.
Leonard wouldn't dare argue the point that Jim Kirk was a beautiful man, with his thick blond hair, full lips, and strong chin. His slim, lithe body bespoke someone who took care of himself. Considering he thought the younger man shallow and more flash than substance, Leonard had no trouble keeping any purely physical attraction at bay. But this morning, things were different. Jim Kirk was different.
Leonard realized that he'd stopped in mid-sentence, that he was staring and he hastily turned away, forced himself to stare at the screen. "Didn't know you wore glasses," he mumbled.
Jim cocked his head as he reached up and touched the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh. Yeah. I ripped my last contact and it'll be a couple of days before they get more in. I'm a few minutes late. What's the big deal? We're just sorting through the collections, trying to find pieces to highlight. It's not like we're doing anything that a grad student couldn't do." Jim took a sip from the large cup of coffee he was holding. "Look, man, I get that it's been awhile since you were in the field, but this--" he waved at the screen--"this is scut work, cataloging. The real work's out there!"
Leonard blinked at Jim, the muscle in his jaw jumping. "And just how the hell do you expect to get there? Who's going to pay you if you never publish another damn thing? Who's going to display your finds if you don't have verifiable proof of their age and authenticity?" Leonard took a deep breath and barreled on. "Look, kid. I'm not sure what you've done in the past, or who you've charmed into doing your grunt work, but that ain't gonna fly here. So just get off your high horse and start helping with this. I'm not here for my health and I'm sure not here to do your work."
Leonard stood up and glared at Jim. "I'm going for coffee, so get your ass in gear while I'm gone!"
He grabbed his mug from his desk, and threw open the door; it banged into the wall. At that, Christine looked up from her computer. "Len?" she called after him.
Leonard waved at her, and continued on his way to the break room. Goddamn it, but there had better be some coffee! he thought furiously.
Fortunately for all, there was a half a pot of fresh steaming coffee and several of Nyota's honey rolls still left on the plate. He poured a cup and leaned heavily against the counter. As he sipped he took several controlled, even breaths, trying to quell the storm in his mind.
"Len?"
He looked up and saw concern etched on Christine's lovely face. "I'm fine," he rumbled. "Just another frustrating run-in with our golden boy."
Christine came into the break room and took a seat at the table. She picked up one of the honey rolls and broke it in half. "Come sit," she said.
Leonard, not wanting to appear rude, shambled over and fell into the chair. "I know, I know," he sighed.
"Well, then, what's going on?" She picked off a piece of the roll and chewed slowly. "Len, he's here for the foreseeable future. I'm afraid you are going to be the one who's not going to be here."
Leonard raised an eyebrow at that. Christine plunged ahead. "He's. . . not so bad. He's young, yes, but he also reminds me of a brash young archaeologist who had early, significant successes, and who was dealing with disappointment, both professionally and personally." She stopped, and took his hand. "Talk to him. You two have more in common than meets the eye."
He rolled his eyes. "Christine, I love and respect you, but a heart-to-heart talk over wine and pastries isn't going to happen. First, we're guys. Guys don't do touchy-feely talks. Second, I don't care. Really. He's young, but he's also undisciplined, has no work ethic and hasn't proved to me he's worth the hype."
She patted his hand and stood. "Well, for your sake, you're going to have to try. Pike has given you your marching orders and that includes playing nice with the new kid. So, do it however best you see fit. If it means beer, dogs and a ball game, then do it, because Len, I really don't want to work for anyone but you."
He watched her walk away. What was it that unsettled him so much about Jim Kirk? He knew his training was good--better than good. Boyce was a damn fine archaeologist, noted for his work in Micronesia, and his students had always found respectable positions. Kirk hadn't published much to make any impact on the field--yet. But he could be good, very good, one day. And maybe that was part of what was happening here. Leonard had never thought himself to be a jealous person, and never doubted his abilities. Kirk rattled something, and he was damned if he knew what.
Leonard walked back to his office, coffee in hand. Distracted, he settled into his chair and called up the inventory; it was several minutes before he realized Kirk was nowhere to be seen. "What the--"
He rose up and walked out into the general lab area. "Pavel, you seen Kirk?"
"Um..." Pavel was engrossed with cleaning a crevice on a large, detailed piece with a small brush. "I think I saw him go over there." He pointed with his brush in a vague off-to-the-right direction.
Kirk's new office....Leonard walked over and was ready to bang on the door when he saw through the window that it was empty. He cautiously entered the area, still fairly uncluttered save for several boxes of books on the floor and half the bookcase filled with neatly filed books and notebooks.
He glanced at the computer; the inventory of the collection was up. Then, by happenstance, he looked down at the desk and saw something very familiar: the journal containing his last paper on bone tools used by aboriginal peoples of Indonesia in the ancient age. It was turned to page twenty-five, the description of where the bones had come from and how he had used his new technique for dating them. Underneath that was a copy of the journal with his first paper on bone tools he'd found in Sumatra. What was Kirk up to?
"Hey, Bones, what'cha need?" Jim asked, startling Leonard out of his snooping.
"Uh...oh, um, nothing really. Just wondered where you'd gone off to," he answered, trying to keep the guilty tone out of his voice. "Thought we were gonna start writing text for the exhibit cases."
"We will, I promise." Jim walked into the office and set several stacked artifact boxes on his work table. "I've been...well, I've been looking at something you worked on. I read it a couple of years ago when I was getting ready to do my dissertation, and I wanted to refresh my memory." He moved to the desk and picked up the journal. "Your analysis of worked bone is fantastic. And the fact that you're able to get such accurate readings on the pieces means we can place them more accurately in the timeline. You proved beyond a doubt that the peoples in this phase of cultural development were working tools and a lot earlier than we thought, Bones."
Leonard stared at him. "Why are you calling me that?"
Jim gave him a wide smile. "Because, you are the bone man!"
He waved him off impatiently. "The hell is that? Archaeologists have been doing work on bones forever."
"Yeah, but you, Bones, you're the one who found the missing link, and it's made of bone." Jim flailed just a bit. He pulled on a white glove, picked up one of the boxes, opened it, and pulled out one of the delicate artifacts. "This was the only thing separating the two cultures. We've known for generations they were connected, but nothing seemed to fit. Their environments were different; their religions were different. Even the way they hunted was different. But this--this was the missing link." He held it up to the light, his finger reverently tracing the faint lines carved on it. "This was what brought Sumatran ancient society together, Bones. And you proved it."
Leonard felt his face grow hot. "Well, it wasn't that impressive. All it took was a little deep research and knowing where and when the artifacts came from."
Jim stared at him. "Not...a little...." He stopped and huffed. "Bones, this was damn impressive work. And knowing that it wasn't even the focus of your primary research, that it was just something you noticed while doing your field work, I mean...god, do you know how jeal--I mean..." Again, he paused, and then put the piece of bone back in its protective box. Then, he faced Leonard, his blue eyes passionate. "You and me, we're gonna have a talk one day about this--this thing you have about not claiming due credit, Bones."
He sat in the swivel chair, and pushed back, retrieving the papers from his desk. "This, this work that you claimed was just a 'side interest' of yours, something that you noticed while you were doing your 'real work'?" He leaned over and dropped the papers on the desk again, removing his glasses as his did. "It was good work. And then, nothing. You started doing this dating process thing and then your next four papers were just research-oriented from libraries and other collections."
"Archaeological work doesn't start in the field, Kirk," McCoy said, rolling his eyes. "It starts in the library and in research collections. We build our work on the backs of those before us. And 'X' never marks the spot."
"Yeah, yeah. I saw 'Indiana Jones' too. And 'start' being the operative word here." Kirk stood and then leaned against the table, folding his arms. "Why didn't you go back into the field? What happened?"
Leonard looked down at his hands; he flexed the left one, the one with the scar that split his palm. The scar seemed to be laughing at him, mocking him, just like the bastards who did this to him. And now, Jim Kirk. Anger flashed through him. He didn't owe any explanations to this guy. "Life happened, Kirk. Real life with real consequences."
"What? A wife and kid?" Kirk asked. "So what? People take their families into the field all the time so that they can do the work they're meant--"
"Well, I wasn't meant to do any more, okay? I just wasn't. So drop it." Leonard pushed away from the desk, and strode out the door. He didn't see the look of astonishment on Jim Kirk's face as he left.
He returned to his office, ignoring Christine's inquiry, and slammed the door behind him. He dropped into his chair and then allowed himself just a moment of frustration and grief and anger to well up, suffuse his body, and take hold. It wasn't fair what happened to him, that Joanna came along too soon in his life, that he encountered a particularly vicious group of marauders who killed two members of his team—a graduate student, a respected colleague; friends. He allowed his head to drop into his hands.
"Haven't you done enough?"
Jim lifted his head from the illuminated magnifying glass. He was so completely absorbed in the artifact on the viewing pad before him that it took a few seconds of blinking to focus on Christine Chapel and her furious stance. "I'm sorry. What have I done?"
"You know, he's trying. He really is. But you're not making things easy for him." Christine's fists were balled at her sides and her voice shook. "He's in his office, drinking. And it's not even noon."
"Whoa! Wait, who's drinking?" Jim said, standing. If he was going to get the beat-down, he'd rather do it from his full height. "Is it--Bones drinks?"
"Yes, he does. When he's really upset. Haven't you noticed he's been on edge since you arrived here? Do you know how hard it is to have someone else come into your territory, throw a few smiles around, chat up the staff? Len has worked hard for this. He built this staff, helped build this collection over the past six years. Brought it up from being just a rich man's playground, and really molded it into a first-class, professional, respected research institution and museum," she said, fuming.
Kirk held up his hands again. "Wait, wait! I know all that. Why the hell do you think I agreed to come here? I wouldn't have come if I didn't know this was a top place, that I didn't think Bones had the intellectual chops to back up his work."
"'Bones'?" she asked, annoyance lacing her voice. "What is this 'Bones' stuff? Are you referring to Len?"
Kirk picked up the artifact from the work table. "I am. You know his work with the Indonesian bones, right?"
"Of course."
"Well, then...Bones. Fits, doesn't it?"
Christine gave him an appraising look. It didn't sound like something that would have Leonard drinking before noon. But then again, Kirk had been sticking his foot in his mouth all week. Her eyes narrowed. "What'd you say to him, Kirk?"
"Jim. Please call me Jim."
Christine flapped her hand at him. "Fine, Jim. Look, he's working really hard to get this research trip going if we raise the money and installing the exhibit before the fundraiser and writing another paper."
"What's he researching now?"
"That is for him to say." She walked up to him and looked him square in the eye. "Keep your head down, do your job, and be helpful."
"All right, I get it. I'll play nice." Jim held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Good boy."
Jim dropped into his chair again, and picked up a bone piece. It was etched with delicate whorls and patterns that belied its function as an everyday working tool. Leonard McCoy was the one who unlocked the mystery of these bones, and Jim was thrilled that he was finally able to talk to the man who had influenced his own work. Except that Leonard McCoy clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
He sighed as he shifted in the chair and brought the bone piece back under the light. Beautiful, strong, functional and artistic--Just like McCoy.