d8rkmessngr | Fic: Unspoken (Slash, Star Trek XI, Kirk/McCoy, NC-17, 3/3)

Part 3 of 3

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VII.

The shouting grew to the point that Spock was sure even Nyota could hear it through the bulkhead between the two quarters.

The captain had been worried about Doctor McCoy's recovery even though Doctor M'Benga had declared him physically fit due in part to the empath Gem's intervention. Yet here he was, threatening the doctor with bodily harm.

"…do that again, I'll kick your ass!"

Most puzzling.

Spock stood by the captain's door, his hands still curled around the service tray that carried their evening meals. The replicators could not properly duplicate Nyota's favorite mud pie (it did not contain any saturated soil) or pecan turtles (there were no testudines in its ingredients; human food was most contradictory). The Mess was able to make them regardless, which was fortunate because Nyota had looked mildly perturbed after reading their reports about their experiences under the Vians' imprisonment and it was his experience that preferred foods might sometimes, upon occasion, alleviate stress. The response would not be ill considered. The Vians' technology had been lethally impressive.

"It wasn't your choice to make!"

"You weren't going to make a choice, you asshole! You were just going to go with them, weren't you?" The doctor, despite his previous injuries under the Vians, appeared to have fully recovered.

The captain did not seem to appreciate the fact. "It still would have been my choice!"

"Like I was going to stand by and let them take you again!"

"I'm the captain. I decide who goes with them!"

"And if you had to make a choice between us no matter what?"

Jim fell silent.

"I was trying to help you!"

"That's not the kind of help I want!" The captain yelled as something thudded hard against the wall near the door.

"You got it anyway! A fucking thank you would be nice!"

"Fine! Thank you, you bastard!"

"You're welcome!"

Spock raised an eyebrow at the exchange. They did not sound grateful. The shouting, however, ceased and Spock found the following silence disturbing. He stared at the door, contemplating whether he should intervene when the door sighed open and Doctor McCoy stormed out. He skidded to a halt by Spock and muttered, "Commander" before he glanced over his shoulder. "Captain," McCoy said in a curt voice, with a brisk nod before he stalked down the corridor towards the turbo lifts.

"Mr. Spock," Jim said evenly as he came into view, his hands smoothing back his hair. He appeared flushed and disheveled but there were no injuries that matched the violence the noise suggested before. He grinned but it looked to pain him to do so and he rested his shoulder on the door threshold.

"Is everything all right, captain?"

The smile faltered.

"The doctor and I were having a…difference of opinion," Jim said shortly.

"The doctor was foolish with his actions," Spock noted.

"No shit," Jim ground out.

"But I understand his logic." Spock nodded to himself. "I would have come to the same conclusion had the doctor not interfered."

Jim blinked, stared at him before looking away, muttering "Great, not you too."

"Sir?" Spock did not understand the red flush across his face. Perhaps Jim had not fully recovered from his ordeal.

Jim sighed and he glanced down at this boots. He folded his arms across his chest. He opened his mouth then closed it, only to open it again.

Spock tilted his head. "You have a question."

"You're a logical kind of guy, right, Mr. Spock?"

"I am Vulcan, captain." Spock did not understand the question.

Jim gave a strange laugh. "Yeah, you are. No, I mean…down there…I was given two choices. Both were…" Jim's face twisted into a frown. "Undesirable."

"Indeed."

"If both options presented weren't desirable, wouldn't it be logical to offer a third option?"

Spock felt a strange hot stirring in his chest. "You were going to volunteer in our place." Spock made a sound that he himself was surprised to hear. Jim lifted his gaze, appearing startled as well. "Yes," Spock rumbled. "This was a possibility and a concern I shared with the doctor. It would not have been a wise choice, Jim."

"Oh, and choosing one of you would have been better?"

The answer was not difficult. "Yes."

For some reason, the reply infuriated the human.

"I don't need anyone needlessly sacrificing themselves for me," Jim snarled. He moved to turn away.

"I do not believe it would have been needless."

Jim started. He turned and looked back at Spock with oddly uncertain eyes.

Spock stared straight ahead, past the other man's rounded ear. "I believe it is the same with the doctor although his motivations may be more…personal." He considered Jim. "As would have been your reason to spare us both, in particularly, the doctor."

Jim's blue eyes, for some reason, clouded over. He swallowed, his throat working.

"Perhaps," Spock prodded, "there is not much of a difference in opinion after all?"

Jim scoffed. He straightened, his hands smoothing out his uniform. He glanced down the corridor towards the turbo lifts. "Think I'll…uh…go for a walk." He paused and cast his eyes on the tray Spock held.

"Dinner?" Jim asked in a mild voice. His eyes crinkled. "That's a lot of food, Mr. Spock."

The corner of his left eyebrow twitched. "Perhaps."

"Hm…looks enough for two, don't you think?" Jim folded his arms across his chest.

Spock stared back impassively at Jim. He wondered if hurrying the captain along would be viewed as rude. "I found myself extremely ravenous after our tribulations."

"Uh huh. Ravenous. I see. Well…" Jim picked at his uniform as if he detected dust. "I'll just leave you to enjoy your uh…turkey sandwiches and pie?"

Spock's left eyebrow twitched again.

"Well, Mr. Spock." The captain's smirk…irked him as he pivoted on his heels. It was the closest emotion Spock would ever allow himself to acknowledge. "Good ni—"

"Jim."

Jim stopped in his tracks. He turned back towards Spock, his face open with curiosity.

"Please extend my greetings to the doctor." Spock bowed slightly to the captain, who gaped at him, before entering his quarters to Nyota's gentle smile.

It was during meditation later when Spock would admit to a glimmer of satisfaction at how much more red Jim's face had appeared during their last exchange.

VIII.

Jim almost preferred the pain.

It marked time for him. Lying here, arms and legs bound and spread as far as the human body could take, he was only a canvas flayed bloody and bare. Time crawled as he waited for them to come back and question him again. They left because they were tired. They left because Jim still wouldn't answer.

Just a bit longer, Jim thought to himself.

"Jim?"

Jim closed his eyes at the sound of the hoarse voice to his right, back in the corner where the sole cage was positioned perfectly to see everything, hear everything and probably fucking taste the same bitterness in his mouth. He was grateful, in some weird and screwed up way, that it was only the one cage; the rest of the landing party were packed into other cages corridors away.

"Jim?"

Swallowing only forced the slimy alien taste of sour and wrongness down his throat but it was the only way Jim could rasp out a steady "Yeah."

The chamber was buried deep in a mountain; deep enough that Jim had doubts at first that the signal he'd sent out on his last escape attempt would be heard. But if these renegades could use this place to contact their ships to attack their own government, then it should be good enough to reach his ship.

Air circulating in the chamber hung heavy and thick with humidity. The room leaked and smelled like burnt sulfur. He listened to the drip-drip of water dropping into small puddles on the floor. Jim turned his head as far as he could before his neck screamed for him to stop. Jim coughed and his whole body shuddered.

"Try to rest."

His laugh sounded and hurt like brittle glass when it escaped his cracked lips. Jim tilted his head up towards the ceiling and blood from his nose trickled down the back of his throat.

"Bones," Jim gasped out, "all I've been doing is lying around."

"It didn't look restful." Blunt as usual, Bones never minced words. His voice sounded like gravel. He had spent it screaming and cursing and kicking loud enough that it drowned out the other sounds that filled Jim's ears. After a day—Two days? Three?—Bones could only kick at his cage because without enough water his voice had cracked.

"No." Jim swallowed back a groan when a shiver pulled at his joints. He could feel his arm sockets grinding and unbidden, a tear broke free, stinging the cuts on his face as it went down his cheek and pooled inside his left ear. "Not really. Had better vacations."

"How long do you think…" Bones trailed off. "Hey. You with me?"

Unfortunately. Jim breathed through his mouth. He tried to flex the fingers on his left hand, but the broken joints had stiffened.

"…doesn't even hurt anymore," Jim mumbled.

"J-Jim?"

"Soon," Jim said louder. His throat worked with the effort. "That signal reached the Enterprise. Spock will find you guys."

There was a pause. Jim exhaled slowly and tried to imagine each limb relaxing. He tried to ignore the throbbing and the burning in his lower body. He tried to picture his feet, without the lines of fire that marked the arches, and counted to ten, willing his feet to stop spasming, trying to uncurl his toes stuck together with blood.

"Us. Spock will find us."

The smile Jim made split the corner of his mouth.

"Spock will—"

"It won't be much longer, Bones." It felt like his chest was stretching, pulling across his ribs, ready to tear and expose his heart to his enemies.

"They won't move on to you or the others until they're done with me and I'm…" Jim grimaced, "I'm not done y-yet." Something clenched in his lower back and he fought a wave of nausea when his muscles cramped. His legs twitched or tried. The manacles didn't allow for much.

"Shit," Jim breathed and, God, he just wanted to laugh. Just laugh and laugh and let out the nails stuck in his throat.

"Jim, it's just your body reacting to…" Bones gave up. "Shit."

"N-nice, Bones," Jim managed. He heard Bones snort.

"You didn't keep me around for my bedside manner."

"No," Jim whispered. His eyes burned as he blinked. His eyelids felt swollen, hot. "I didn't."

"You have to be a goddamn hero all the time." The crack in Bones's voice was unbearable.

"It'll be fine," Jim murmured. "They won't touch you or anyone else until they're through with me." Jim bit his lower lip. His knees were locked painfully in position and he thought he could hear bones creak. A groan that was half sob escaped and Jim grimaced as he pushed out a growl.

Footsteps shuffled closer. Chains dragged across stone like nails scraping across metal.

"Jim, look at me."

"Can't."

"Look at me—"

"Bones, I can't." Jim blinked upwards. The cloudy swirls of white, gray and black twisted nauseatingly. "I can't see a damn thing any more."

"Jim," Bones moaned.

His face felt funny when he tried to smile. "Hey, means I can't see your mug right now. This many days without a razor or shower, you probably look like crap."

"Fuck you."

This time, Jim did laugh. It was a little too loud, edged a little too sharp. He could hear it, that glass crackling noise. It only made him laugh harder.

"Trust me. I’d rather you than t-them." Jim squeezed his eyes shut. The darkness was better than the patchwork of light taunting him. He gasped through the minute pinches gnawing up and down his body.

Bones didn't call out his name again but Jim could hear him gasping, his breath harshly forced out between his teeth. Somehow, it was better than if Bones talked, meaningless words just sitting uneasily in both their guts.

"Spock's coming," Jim rasped, his eyes still closed. "Just a little longer and you'll be fine, Bones."

"Promise me when Spock gets here, you'll be waiting too."

"Bones…"

"That's all I ask."

"Sure. Don't worry, Bones," he whispered.

And there was a sound like Bones had flung himself against the side of the cage. "You bastard. You lying son-of-a-bitch—"

"Keep telling you, I'm pretty certain mom was married to dad."

"—You asshole," Bones' continued harshly. "You don't think after all these years I know when you're lying to me? I know what you're trying to do here. I won't accept it. You hear me James T. Kirk? I am not coming out of this parasite-infested backwater of a hellhole without you. So either you hang on or I start telling them that I know those codes too."

Fire raced up his arms, forcing his eyes to tear. Jim jolted in place. "No."

"Then you promise, dammit! Or I swear I’ll start singing like a Denuvian canary."

"Bones, the only way you'll be taking my place is if I'm dead. Don't you get it?" Jim snarled. He groaned as bile burned up his throat. His skin itched and stretched in places it shouldn't. Jim couldn't stop himself from arching off the dais.

"I know! I know!" Bones shouted as best he could, but only managed to be louder than a whisper. "That's why you've got to promise. You keep pissing those bastards off but keep breathing. Or I swear neither one of us is coming out of here…all right?" Bones's voice trailed off. "It's you and me. Or nothing. So…promise."

Jim sighed brokenly. "I think…I can do that,"

"Don't just think."

Jim turned his head back. He bit his lower lip. Lying was getting as hard as breathing.

"I want to hit something," Bones rasped. He sounded like he had hit his good bourbon all night. Fuck, a drink would be good right now.

"Hit Spock when he gets here," Jim groaned in a half whisper.

"And have him tell me I'm being illogical? No thanks." There was a scrape of metal against stone as Bones shook the bars again for the thousandth time.

Jim stared at basically nothing and tried to bring up a picture of Bones in his cabin, lying across the couch, legs stretched out as he read a PADD with the newest medical journals; Bones, in a worn Academy shirt, waiting for Jim's shift to end. He tried to remember Bones, smiling without realizing it, when Jim walked through the door. Jim took a steadying breath, tried, but a sharp tug in his side and the mirage shattered. Jim groaned more for its loss than the pain.

Bones tested the bars of his prison once more. He growled under his breath. Chains struck bars. "Damn bars." Jim could hear him pacing.

"It's oka—"

"No, it's not okay!"

Jim swallowed and he turned his head slowly towards Bones's trembling voice. Jim stared out into the mix of light and shapes.

The pacing footsteps stopped. Jim could hear Bones mutter a curse.

"Sorry. You're right. It's okay—it will be okay."

Jim closed his eyes and remembered Bones' hand sweeping down his chest, smoothing his warm palm across his skin as if polishing glass. He tried to swallow but couldn't get his mouth to work right. It was the only reason he could think of that explained the tiny noises escaping his throat because he was not crying.

Bones made a choked sound.

"Bones…" Jim cringed at the whimper and wished he'd kept quiet.

"Shh. I know."

Bones's voice was steadier, soft like they were in their quarters, explorers of their own private world.

Jim tried to take a breath. His nose was running, bleeding, whatever it was and it forced him to breathe through his mouth. He should be reassuring Bones, he should be reminding himself he was Captain James Tiberius Kirk, U.S.S Enterprise, serial number fuck you fuck you, but all he could do was whisper another, "Bones."

"Shh. Just a bit longer, Jim."

Jim smiled tightly to himself at the odd echo. "Okay."

IX.

Starfleet's screwed up math went something like this: you get captured, tortured and used up for five days before Spock comes running in like some pointy ear God of War then you get a month of shore leave. It didn't matter if you wore the bruises for days afterwards or if all you did was just fucking watch.

In a show of benevolence Leonard was sure was purely only for the media's benefit, shore leave for the rescued Enterprise team was to be on Earth. Home. For some, at least. Jim insisted that the first ten days for them would be spent in Georgia.

Somehow Pike had convinced Jocelyn to let his little girl stay with Leonard the whole time. Jim insisted he had nothing to do with the Admiral sending the request via personal shuttle and convoy to her house with all that polite shit like she was the goddamn Federation president himself but Leonard caught the wink Jim gave Pike via the comm when the Enterprise came into orbit.

As their shuttle eased down into docking position, Leonard sat there, slowly unbuckling his harness. He watched Nyota surprise Jim with a careful hug goodbye; he watched Jim bow heads with Spock to give final instructions before limping over to Leonard. Injuries had healed, but five days in Chez Fucking Paxtoria had left him as wobbly as a newborn colt. Leonard nodded curtly to Nyota, Spock and Chekov (damn kid looked about ready to cry when Jim had originally said Chekov didn't need to see them off). Nyota looked like she wanted to say something to him, but Jim gave her a headshake when he thought Leonard wasn't looking and she backed off.

There was a tiny flare of irritation that fizzled as soon as it came but Leonard squashed it down. He kept his eyes on Jim instead. Jim had flinched when he tried to take his elbow so all Leonard could do (same fucking story every time) was stand back on the stairway and make sure Jim's right hand could curl properly on the safety rails as he descended. When Jim glared at him, stopping two steps down, Leonard swallowed and forced himself to turn away.

Even from a distance, Leonard could see Jocelyn's stiff shoulders. The woman's posture radiated how she felt about handing over the eight year-old clutching her hand for ten days. But as Leonard took the rest of the stairs, Jim hobbling slowly ahead of him like a shadow, his cane making a clip-clop sound on the metal steps, the rigid posture had started to fade. It was gone completely by the time Leonard came to a stop a foot away in front of them.

It occurred to him they'd never been this close to each other since the divorce.

"Joss," Leonard rasped. Jocelyn looked comical standing there, her mouth slightly opened, her red hair unraveling from the tight French braid she favored. She looked like a standing lit flame and he edged closer to put Jim behind him. He heard Jim huff, his bony shoulder bumping into his before he sidestepped away.

Jocelyn wouldn't stop staring. Leonard tugged at the hem of his gray sweater and wondered if too many washings had stretched it, because it now sat funny across his shoulders. A mean thought occurred to him that said his ex never spoke with him on vid so of course she was staring at him as if he were a stranger. Leonard fought the urge to snap at her with a vehemence that surprised even him when it soured in his mouth.

"Leonard," Jocelyn finally said. Her green eyes slid over to Jim by his right elbow. Leonard bristled when her gaze swept up and down, but then her eyes softened. Leonard blinked. Her mouth curved into an overly bright smile that faded quickly, as if she'd forgotten how.

"You must be Jim."

Jim nodded.

Joanna held Jocelyn's hand with both of hers and stared up at Leonard with huge brown eyes. She did not run up to him. She didn't salute him like she'd used to in every comm they'd shared.

Jocelyn stared at Leonard a little longer before giving herself a headshake. She glanced down as if she'd just remembered Joanna was there.

"Jojo," Jocelyn said quietly. She disentangled her hand from their daughter's grip. "Go say hello to your daddy. Go on." She gave their girl a gentle push forward on her narrow shoulders.

After a moment's hesitation, Joanna took tiny steps towards Leonard, her eyes still on his face. As Leonard crouched down, it occurred to him that perhaps he looked as different as he currently felt, his skin hanging off him wrong. He cleared his throat as Joanna stopped inches before him.

"Hi, Jojo," Leonard croaked. He felt Jim's left knee press against his shoulder from behind. Leonard leaned into it and the vise around his chest loosened.

Joanna gave him a smile when he spoke. Maybe it was the cue she needed. Joanna leaned in and wrapped her little arms around his neck.

"Hi Daddy."

Leonard simply buried his face into her hair.

"I love the beach!" Jim announced as he staggered to the huge bed, gave his cane a scowl before discarding it onto the floor and collapsing on top of the thick quilts.

"I think I have sand in my ass," Leonard grumbled. He picked up the cane and set it leaning against the end table. Jim, as usual, ignored it. "Of all the…"

"Come on, Bones." Jim wiggled, sitting up so he could shrug out of his jacket. Leonard surreptitiously watched for any discomfort but when Jim glowered at him over his shoulder, Leonard looked away.

"You have to admit. The sand? The water—"

"Probably have a number of diseases and bacteria floating in from the bay we don't know about. We've only cleaned up that big tub of water a century ago. God knows what kind of latent infectious sludge could come washing up the shore like Regar's sores or Dernalian Ge—What?" Leonard glowered at Jim. "I have sand on my face?" He gave his face a wipe with his palm.

Jim was smiling at him, looking a bit like he had just beat the Kobayashi Maru, sans apple. When Leonard noticed, Jim just chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nothing. It's been a while since you—Never mind…Remind me to thank the Admiral," Jim said, his words muffled within the thick folds of the cream-colored sweater he'd begun pulling off. Leonard's grandmother had made it for him three Christmases ago. His head emerged free of the thick material Leonard insisted he wear. He took a moment and admired the dark pillars of the Golden Gate, solid and tall in the dusk, filling the floor to ceiling window. "It was nice of Pike to let us use this residence while he's running training sims at the Academy."

"As long as he doesn't overdo it," Leonard grumbled as tugged his t-shirt off, picking up the sweater Jim haphazardly chucked over Leonard's head to land on their shoes. He kicked off his own trousers, mirroring Jim but took the time to fold everything. "He's walking now but that doesn't mean he's a hundred percent yet."

"Well, since someone vetoed him going on that training flight on the Lexicon," Jim muttered, "He only has this." Jim paused before reaching over to rub a thumb along the slope of Leonard's exposed clavicle.

He tracked Jim as his fingers lingered on his skin. His mouth went dry as Jim traced his collarbone with a feather touch. "He's not up to flying around in some rusty G class—"

"J class." Jim corrected him with a small smirk.

"…Whatever. J, G, whatever letter of the goddamn alphabet, Pike's not up to flying around in some tin can training a bunch of cadets."

Leonard grunted as he let Jim tug him down to lie on top of him. He held still as Jim swept his hands slowly over Leonard's bare back. Leonard breathed deeply, his elbows on either side of Jim, but not doing anything. He let Jim explore because it'd been three weeks before Jim could tolerate being touched, before Leonard could touch Jim without feeling like his hands were going to tear Jim to shreds. He reached over and rubbed the wet gritty grains of sand out of Jim's hair.

"I still think we could have stayed longer," Jim grumbled but his mouth curved and he looked smug rather than annoyed. His smile felt hot against Leonard’s throat, his nipples, trailing heat that trickled down to his groin. Leonard's lips hovered over Jim's skin; almost tasting the salty tang of ocean and sweat that clung to a returning tan.

"Jim, the last thing any of us need is a picture of my ass mooning half the beach to show up on tonight's news comm."

"Think I could get a wallet size?"

Leonard rolled his eyes and, God, the laugh vibrating under him pooled tendrils of heat in his belly. He shook his head and carded his fingers into Jim's hair, waiting a beat before proceeding to scrub Jim's hair into unruly spikes. Jim yelped or laughed but Leonard found himself laughing too hard to tell. Jim struck back by grabbing Leonard's ass. They wrestled, but loosely, their touches more glancing than gripping. Still careful. Even that winded them both and Leonard found himself panting as he held Jim. They lay curled towards each other, a position neither one of them ever gave a thought to because it felt too natural to consider anything else.

"You’ve got sand in your hair too," Leonard remarked and gave his hair one last ruffle. Jim retaliated with a nip to his throat that was sure to be a mark tomorrow. Vampire. "What the hell did you do, roll around in this stuff?" Leonard groused as he tried not to crush Jim into the mattress when Jim pulled him on top of him. He avoided looking at the pronounced indents and ridges of ribs, scars that were pink and stark compared to his own unmarked skin.

"That's exactly what we did," Jim announced. "Did I mention I love the beach?"

"Why, no," Leonard drawled, "I had no idea." He pillowed his head with a bent arm and studied Jim. Jim copied him and blinked heavy-lidded eyes back. Leonard watched Jim thread their fingers together, fitting them into a combined fist. Jim reached out with his other hand and traced the line of Leonard's hip with a knuckle.

"It was nice before," Jim continued in a soft voice, his eyes tracking his own hand on Leonard's skin. "I don't just mean the beach. I mean…" Jim sighed. He let his hand curl on Leonard's hip.

Leonard gave their clasped hands a squeeze, feeling something loosen inside him when Jim squeezed back.

"Yeah," Leonard said hoarsely. "It was nice." Jim's tight heat around his cock, fingers digging into his shoulders, was something Leonard could still feel tattooed onto his skin. He sat up, propped by an elbow and eased Jim's left hand to lay loose in his palm. Absently, Leonard stroked each finger from knuckle to tip. He remembered every break. He still remembered every half-choked groan Jim couldn't hold back as each finger was snapped. He lowered his mouth, kissing each joint. He felt them flex under his mouth. Whole and strong again. And gently touching him back.

"I'm fine, Bones," Jim murmured. "And you're going to be all right."

Leonard scoffed as he turned Jim's hand palm up and poked what people once believed was their lifeline. Jim's hand automatically twitched, fingers curling as if to capture.

"Me? Jim, I'm fine. Nothing happened to me." Leonard's face twisted. "All I did was watch," he rasped.

Jim slipped his free hand around the back of Leonard's neck and tugged him down.

"You know," Jim said quietly, "they put you in that cell for a reason. We were taught in the Academy that that counts as a form of torture, too." When Leonard jerked, Jim pulled harder in a tug of war Leonard realized they'd been playing for weeks, if not months.

Leonard's shoulders slumped.

"I took the same class, you know," Leonard reminded him with a tired quirk of his mouth. "But it's one thing in a classroom, it's different when…" Leonard massaged Jim's fingers.

"I don't know how to tell you…" Jim admitted as he watched Leonard's face. "But…I was glad our positions weren't in reverse." Jim's right shoulder lifted. "I don't think I would have been able to watch."

Leonard brushed his closed mouth over Jim's brow and watched blue shudder under his touch. He rubbed a thumb over a pink scar that curled around Jim's wrist bone like a naked snake. It wouldn't completely go away. Leonard had feared Jim was going to lose that hand, that beautiful, tapered hand with those blunt fingers grazing across his skin with such familiarity and such possession—

Jim's hands slipped over and sandwiched Leonard's hand between them.

Feeling a bit lightheaded, Leonard focused as Jim's face peered up at him.

"I wasn't able to watch," Leonard croaked. "All I could do was goad and taunt. Hell, I think I said things that would make a goddamn Klingon blush and they wouldn't stop…" Leonard gulped. He couldn't finish. Leonard felt Jim's hand move to caress the slope of his ear.

"Do you know," Jim said conversationally as he felt strands of Leonard's hair between his fingers, "that Vulcans kiss with their fingers?"

It felt like he could breathe again. Leonard managed a weak smile as Jim touched every part of his face with two fingers.

"Well," Leonard managed, "if that's what you're trying to do, I can't saying I'm impressed right now."

Jim chuckled to himself as he did a dancing pattern with his fingers down Leonard's neck, lingering at his collar, and then the hollow at the base of his throat. "Yeah, it does seem boring but it did serve to remind me never to shake hands with Spock."

Leonard barked a laugh even as he continued with his own mapping of Jim's left hand with his fingers. He rubbed the joints where knuckle met finger. His thumb and index circled each circumference, measuring mass. All those delicate tendons.

"I just remembered," Leonard said as his touch settled on Jim's fourth finger, his index going around and around, wrapping an invisible line. “I think I shook Spock's hand goodbye when we left the shuttle."

Jim's chest rumbled pleasantly underneath him. "Bones, you totally made out with Spock."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Spock knows where my feelings lie."

Jim rolled his hips up against Leonard and a ripple of heat blossomed on contact.

"On top of me?" Jim said innocently. He snickered at Leonard's snort and wiggled beneath his weight. He tugged at Leonard’s hand. "And what's the matter with you? I only told you about Vulcans pseudo-kissing with their fingers as an interesting fact. You shouldn't take it as a suggestion." Jim slapped the back of his free hand on Leonard’s shoulder. "Get off, I need the bathroom. You're not the only one with sand in his ass."

Leonard stared at the finger he was still circling, still tattooing it with his touch.

Jim stilled. "Bones?" He gave his caught hand another pull. "Uh, you can let go now."

Leonard's throat was suddenly tight and he curled his hand around that fourth finger. His hand looked dark and large around the pale digit.

"What if I don't want to let go?"

Jim frowned. "Then we can shower together?"

Leonard fisted his hand tighter around Jim's, weaving their fingers together. "Jim. I…" And again, words failed him, caught somewhere between yelling them out and swallowing them back. It was like he was in that blasted cell again. He had plenty to say then, all fucking useless to stop them from hurting Jim.

Jim stared up at his face, brow furrowed, then his eyes drifted to where Leonard's grip had started, loosened and then was back to tracing around his fingers, particularly on his ring finger. Jim's eyes widened, his mouth dropped slightly open, but no words came out.

"I…" Three simple words, one a promise, one a plea, Leonard wasn't sure which one he wanted to say. Neither would come out.

"I don't want to let go, Jim. Not ever."

Jim's hand curled, he wove their fingers back together, grasping Leonard's with a white knuckled grip, trembling as if hanging onto Leonard saved him from a yawning drop.

"Okay," Jim whispered, barely audible. "Then don't. Not ever."

And perhaps, after all, that was all that really needed to be said.

The End

Author's Acknowledgment: Not very holidayish, I'm afraid. I'm just glad to be writing and grateful my beta didn't tell me to sod off. LOL. Happy holidays, everyone.

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That was wonderful.

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...love in any form always beat the darkness

Fic: Unspoken (Slash, Star Trek XI, Kirk/McCoy, NC-17, 3/3)

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