A/N- based on the prompt

mckirk fbi au where jim is bones' new partner and jims crushing head over heels for him bc come on he can't help himself if his new partner is the famous leonard mccoy and everything is going alright until they're in a shooting and jim takes the bullet for bones and he's bleeding on the pavement and bones is begging him not to go god dammit kid why did you do this please keep your eyes open jim can you hear me jim-

and jim wakes up in a hospital with bones sleeping in the chair next to his bed, holding jims hand tighty in his (◡‿◡✿)

by Jamesmccoys on tumblr. I don't have it quite right, but I liked it enough to post it.

(Arty, your fic is gonna be posted soon! I need to polish it up a bit)

Leonard H. McCoy wasn't the oldest man in the Bureau, not by a long shot. But he was gunning for the 'Most Grumpy and Bitter at the World' Award. He was also the favorite contender for the award of Distinguished Service, and there was no denying that he was the most accomplished member either.

The FBI had changed a lot since its inception, and certainly it had been for the better. There were new protocols, stricter regulations, and newer technology, but nothing would ever replace a good old fashioned, well trained operative. And Leonard H. McCoy, codename BONES, was indeed that operative. He was gruff and hard edged, but he could make anyone trust him and his baby-blue eyes. His eyes made frosty spouses give up lovers and information, made crooks shake in their seats as he interrogated them. He could drag a confession out of the tightest lipped mouth, and he could get any caged pigeon to sing a dandy little song.

He was older, yes, but older didn't mean decrepit, and he didn't need your goddamn rocking chair either with leg work. Leonard knew the hideouts, the drop points, the meeting places. He knew the lingo when eavesdropping, and he knew the body language when tailing someone. He knew how to run down a suspect, and most importantly, he knew when to turn around and hightail it out of a dangerous situation.

He knew.

Then why was he here, staring down at the shaking gun this skinny little boy was pointing at him. Tears streaming down his face, sobs ripping from his lungs as he screeched about how Bones had ruined his life. Took away the only good thing when he put his lover into jail. It was scary how well Leonard remembered it. The woman had been a con-artist, going through San Francisco like it was her own personal honeypot. This boy had apparently been along for the ride, but Leonard didn't remember her, hell, he didn't even look like he'd been out of diapers when Leonard had clapped the irons on the con-artist.

"Easy there kid," Leonard lifted his hands slowly, showing that he was unarmed, not a threat. But the kid was too far gone in his mad grief. It was slow motion, watching the hammer knock as the gun fired. He heard the pins click, and he heard the absurdly comical noise the tiny pistol made. Another ten feet and the gun would never have been accurate, but they were so close together…

If Leonard thought time was moving slow when the gun fired, his entire world ground to a screeching halt as he saw his partner thrust his body in front of him.

'No!' Leonard was old, he'd lived his life. He'd married and divorced and saw his kid graduate college and he'd drank his liver to death already. He could die. Not happily, but he could do it.

'No!' Leonard was ready. Just not for this.

"NO!"

Six Months Earlier.

"Leonard McCoy," Leonard grunted around his coffee cup without looking up from the case file on his desk. The Director, Christopher Pike, loomed patiently from the entrance of his cubicle until Leonard met his eyes,

"What, Pike?" A young kid. Young man really, but they were all kids to McCoy by now. A young kid stood ramrod straight next to Pike, neat in his freshly pressed suit and golden tie. A command track Agent then, not from the science side of school like Leonard was. This kid was looking to become a Director, the front man. And he had the face to do it. Open and trustable, with smiling eyes and a handsome jawline. But McCoy saw that it was a fake smile, good as it was, and that the emotion on the kid's face was carefully selected for the moment.

Maybe he'd be a good Director one day. But that didn't explain why he was practically glowing with energy standing next to Leonard's boss at six in the goddamn morning.

"No," McCoy growled and turned around, not seeing the brief and stricken look on the kid's face.

"No what?" Pike laughed, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I don't need a new partner, and he's greener than my tomato plants either way," Leonard really wasn't looking forward to breaking in a new partner just for them to be chased away by his harsh personality. Not that Leonard minded working alone-in fact he was quite good at it. But it was getting disheartening to go through newbie after newbie, and to deal with the PR department about his conduct each time. Everyone agreed that Leonard was someone you respected and admired from a distance-but his demeanor made him someone you hid from. He wasn't mean, just surly. And it was their fault if they were too soft to realize the difference. McCoy was FBI, damn it, not their nanny.

"He's green, but he was also the only genius level green horn in Iowa," Pike pushed the kid forward and it broke his stiff posture enough for a genuine smile to shine through. Leonard straightened up in his seat to appraise the kid again. If Pike was gonna give him that big a compliment, then Leonard had better at least look twice.

"Kid, I'm an angry old man who's sour toward the world but I'll be fair to everyone if it kills me. I don't like small talk and I'm not your nanny. If you can't keep up, I won't wait. If you're a danger to us, I'll cut you loose myself. Don't mention my ex-wife or my secret heart of gold that doesn't exist,"

Christine Chapel snorted into her hand in the next cubicle over and Leonard glared in her general direction, "And don't listen Chapel either. She's too romantic to be as good an agent as she is,"

"High praise coming from you, Agent McCoy," Pike, McCoy, and Chapel all smiled as Agent Spock stalked through the main office on his way to the copiers.

"And don't say anything nice about Agent Hobgoblin," McCoy finished and turned back to the case file.

Pike turned toward his young charge and said, "Welcome to Sector NCC-1701, Agent James T. Kirk. Good luck-you'll need it,"

Kirk twisted to watch Pike walk away, internally floundering. 'That's it?! Come back! Don't leave me here!' Instead of letting his panic show, Agent Kirk adjusted his gold tie and cleared his throat, waiting for McCoy to acknowledge him again.

A few minutes passed without anything more than McCoy turning a page. Now Kirk was sweating.

'At least show me where my chair is,' he thought nervously. The entire time Kirk was in training he'd heard stories about Agent 'Bones' McCoy. The man was tough as nails and twice as steely. He could piece together cold cases and he knew more about the Bureau than anyone else. The man was a legend, and a terrifying one at that. When Kirk had read his starting assignment he'd just about died. Seeing his base office as being Enterprise, the same Enterprise that McCoy worked for, had made Kirk whoop for joy and dance in his apartment. He was going to be working with his idol!

Now if only his idol would look at him.

Finally a beautiful black woman with flawless hair reached over the divider between the cubicles and slapped Leonard on the shoulder.

"WHAT?!" He shouted as he leapt to his feet.

"You need to give your new puppy his orders Leonard!" She smiled at Kirk as she removed her audio headset, "You can't just let him stand there all handsome until we clock out," A blush rose in Kirk's cheeks. Nyota Uhura, the best linguist in the Bureau, had just called him handsome.

"If you think he's so handsome, you can have him," Leonard scowled at Kirk, finally meeting his eyes, and then motioned to the cubicle opposite, "What did I say, Kid?"

"Keep quite, keep up, keep out of trouble. Don't say anything nice about Agent Spock or listen to Agent Chapel," Kirk rattled off.

"What about his heart-of-gold and Jocelyn?" Chapel chewed her pen cap as she smiled.

"Don't know what you could be referring to, Miss," Kirk shared her easy smile and his heart warmed when McCoy laughed. He'd just made the Leonard H. McCoy laugh.

"I may find it in me to like you yet, Kid," McCoy stretched and Kirk felt his mouth go dry as he caught the impression of the man's hard body under his suit. The starched white shirt rode up just enough to reveal the deep cut of hips, and Kirk's fingertips itched at the sight. Snapping his mind back to the present, Kirk blushed harder, realizing what McCoy had said.

"I-I hope you do, Sir. Agent. Sir, Agent McCoy Sir," Kirk fumbled, drowning in those blue eyes as McCoy glared at him.

"It's either Agent McCoy, or Bones, Kid. Call me Sir again and you'll be on the next transport to the Kelvin Office.

"Yes S-Bones," Kirk offered his hand, light headed when McCoy gripped it tight and pumped it exactly three times.

"Now, let's go get some coffee that doesn't taste like mud," And Kirk followed Bones out into the San Francisco fog.

Five Months

"God Damnit Jim, are you listening to me?" Bones's gravelly voice destroyed Kirk's happy daydream. Blinking disappointedly at McCoy's expression, Jim sighed,

"Yes, I was listening to you,"

"Then what did I say?"

"We need to flush out the new Corobite distributer, but your best contact just showed up dead in the bay," Jim had been imagining the two of them back in that little motor boat, this time without a bloated, eyelid-less body but instead with champagne and less clothes. Maybe with the anchor down off of one of the uninhabited islands Kirk fished from.

"…Lucky guess," McCoy growled and leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee angrily, "What are we gonna do about it?"

"Don't you think that we could bluff 'em, as is? I mean, we know the number, we just need to fake the message about the delivery gone sour. They'll come running to recoupe their losses, we'll snap the net closed and be home by desert. I could go for some desert,"

McCoy waggled his finger at his newest partner, "Uh-uh, they've
only got deserts you're allergic to and I am NOT jabbin' an eppi-pen into your heart twice in one week,"

"Bones, c'mon, I didn't even know I was allergic to saurian brandy. You can't blame me,"

"But I can still complain about it. Let's go, I like your idea. Let's see if it doesn't blow up in our faces,"

And Kirk followed Bones back onto the streets again.

Four Months

It was getting harder to breath around McCoy for Jim. Every time they brushed hands, Jim felt like he was touching a live electrical wire. Every time their eyes met, Jim's words stuttered in his throat. Every time they rode the lift up to their offices, Jim had to suppress the urge to throw the older man against the wall and taste his tonsils. Only the knowledge that Bones would break his kneecaps before their lips connected stopped him.

It just wasn't fair.

But it only happened when they weren't on a case. On duty, they moved like two halves of the same pulley system. Bones would push, and Jim would pull. Bones would throw and Jim would catch. One knew when to be hard, the other knew when to gentle someone along. In two short months, they'd moved past needing to speak to each other, instead picking up cues from the other and running with whatever idea they'd come up with.

Everyone agreed that it was a partnership made in FBI heaven. Nobody seemed to work as well together as McCoy and Kirk. And Kirk's addition to the Enterprise office was a heaven sent thing as well. He smoothed the lines between Spock and McCoy till they were almost friends (though you had to know them both very well to hear the difference between their new verbal sparring of friendship, and their old antagonistic arguments). He drew Agent Scott from the depths of their tech department, and joined his and Agent Uhura's interests in music. He plotted with Chapel to make McCoy reveal his softer side, and he joined Agents Sulu and Chekov in their juvenile office pranks while helping the two in their projects.

But it still. Wasn't. Fair.

Three Months

McCoy watched as Kirk moved smoothly around the bar. He himself was situated at the corner of the counter, nursing a tumblr of amber colored water with a shot of bourbon in it for smell. It tasted vile, an affront to good liquor, but he couldn't afford to drink the good stuff for as long as they were gonna be casing the joint out tonight.

Kirk on the other hand was less sober than him, since he was actively moving among their contacts. He had to accept some drinks, and not all of them were made by their bartender who knew to keep it looking good but tasting weak. Now Kirk was draping himself along a woman's side, laughing easily in her ear at a joke. With one hand he slipped a microscopic listening device into her shirt. It was one he and Sulu had developed (and tested on the rest of the Agents with mixed results). If the woman discovered it, Kirk could disable the transmission before she realized it was anything more than a piece of masking tape.

Swirling his water around the glass, McCoy forced a hiccough-he was supposed to be four hours into the bourbon afterall, and thought about his new partner. The kid was talented, no doubts about it. He was smart, quick, and tenacious. He also didn't believe in no-win scenarios, which was something McCoy was trying to beat out of him. Romantic notions like that were for Chapel and civilians. Not top class FBI agents. Leonard had had too many Agents die, had too many plans gone wrong, and had too much heartbreak to not believe that some things were just lost.

But watching the enthusiasm that Jim had… it made Leonard smile behind his glass. But it also made his heart hurt because soon that light would be extinguished in favor of reality. That smile would grow less and less wide as hurt continued to build up in Jim's heart. The world broke everyone. He would mourn the day the world broke Jim Kirk.

Imagine how happily frustrated Leonard would be when it never happened.

And Jim continued to follow Bones.

Two Months

Jim was killing himself, pining over his gruff partner. But GOD did it hurt so good. He lived for Bones's approval, pushing farther and harder to hear that short rare compliment. He hadn't been on a date in four months, hadn't shagged anyone in longer, and he was the happiest he'd ever been.

Jim was happy to slog through the back-alleys of San Francisco on McCoy's heels. He was happy to drink his coffee black at five thirty in the morning on their park bench overlooking the bay every day. He was happy to spend three extra hours on a Friday to make sure they had their intelligence just right. So long as Jim was doing it with Leonard McCoy, Jim was happy.

He'd be happier if that man would turn his sharp eyes on Jim and smile, lick his lips and lean closer. McCoy would be a hard kisser, Jim was sure. There would be tenderness, but it wouldn't be like kissing a woman. Kissing Leonard would be like an interrogation, neither party giving in until one had been backed into a corner and couldn't escape. Jim wanted nothing more than to taste McCoy's skin, feel his muscled chest and trace the raised scars from a life in the Bureau. Jim wanted to tangle his hands in McCoy's hair and drag him close and feel him and…

Jim wanted to wake up next to McCoy too. They already were the last person the other saw in the evening, and unless they had a meeting they saw each other first in the morning. They shared their coffee and their meals, they picked up each other's dry cleaning. They spent their days off together doing nothing and more often than not one of them ended up passed out on the other's couch come midnight.

Jim wanted to see McCoy sleep ruffled and bleary eyed on Christmas morning, growling about how he "didn't care if it was Christmas, he was gonna sleep till a normal hour". Jim wanted to make Bones breakfast and eat together in comfortable silence as the city by the bay woke up around them. Jim wanted to fall asleep with his head on McCoy's lap and his partner's fingers in his hair.

It was disgusting how many of Jim's daydreams had turned domestic and sweet.

He still wanted the man in his bed, but more and more Jim wanted the man in his heart too.

And he followed McCoy just like that first day.

One Month

McCoy had finally come to the conclusion that Jim Kirk wasn't going to go anywhere. The kid had seen him at his worst. Had seen him eyeball deep in whiskey on the anniversary of his father's death. Had dodged the halfheartedly thrown vase on the anniversary of his divorce when Jim showed up with a crazy plan for investigating the local strip club for tax evasion. Had stuck around for every grumpy day and acidic remark.

Jim was this ever present ball of sun orbiting McCoy's life, drawing him out farther than he'd gone in years. McCoy, if he thought about it, realized that he hadn't been this honestly happy since before his and Jocelyn's relationship had gone south.

They teased Spock together (and really, who'd have thunk the Hobgoblin had such a dry sense of humor once you pulled the stick out of his ass), and they drank with Scotty together. Jim fielded Uhura's attempt at emotional discussion, and even if McCoy wouldn't admit it under pain of torture, he even enjoyed when Chapel teamed up with Kirk to tease him.

Even more, McCoy didn't have to worry about Kirk doing something stupid in the field. If McCoy said jump, Kirk jumped. If Kirk signaled, McCoy listened. They moved in sync and perfectly in tune with each other. If McCoy's plan went to pot, Kirk had one in the wings ready to salvage the situation. If Kirk made a reckless move, McCoy trusted him to be able to get out of it with success.

McCoy, most importantly, didn't want Kirk to leave. He'd gotten used to his golden shadow and didn't know if he could go back.

Kirk followed McCoy, and… well… Leonard supposed he followed Jim as well.

Present

Jim woke up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor. His throat ached, so did his sinuses, so he probably had an intubation tube. His left hand throbbed where an IV was steadily dripping something that made his vision blurry and blue-shaded. His right hand…

Jim turned his head enough to see the right side of his hospital bed, and what he saw made his heart clench with emotion. The monitor's pattern altered, making Bones stir. The dark haired head lifted from where it was pillowed on an arm still stained with blood,

'my blood,' Jim realized guiltily. Bones's eyes were red rimmed, bags dark under them and the blue more intense than if there were lightbulbs in there behind the irises. Bones met his eyes, then his gaze flicked down to their joined hands and a smile quirked his lips.

Jim opened his mouth; to apologize, to beg forgiveness, for a sarcastic quip, for what he didn't know, but nothing emerged but a dry rasp and he grimaced, even as the happiness bubbled up from his tightly held hand.

Bones just shook his head and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jim's. The kiss was short, sweet, everything Jim had dreamed about for six months and at the same time more than he'd ever imagined it would be.

"You'll be lucky if I don't kill you myself, Jim," Bones whispered against his mouth, then kissed him again.

So Jim followed McCoy's lead, and kissed him back.

Both men laughed when a nurse burst into the room to check on him when the heart monitor started screaming.