"Goddammit, kid, hold still."
This sentiment was punctuated with a hypospray to the neck. Ensign Chekov had heard Doctor McCoy's bedside manner could do with some improvement, but he had never before been subjected to this type of behavior. Apparently the good doctor had always had a soft spot for the youngest member of the crew. That is, until today.
It did not help that Pavel was shaking furiously. This could likely be attributed to a week without sleep spent running from the primitive humanoids of the god-forsaken planet that Pavel had been left on, accidentally of course.
Shockingly, when beamed back aboard, he was relatively unharmed, at least until his run-in with Leonard McCoy.
McCoy, too, had gone a week without sleep, though no one could really figure out why. What they had figured out was that he was to be avoided, though, and even more so than usual. Nurses scrambled to get out of his way and patients left Sickbay untreated, just so they weren't subjected to his increasingly foul mood.
Pavel, however, had missed the memo, do to his untimely "vacation." And so there he sat, on a biobed, being thoroughly examined by a very angry doctor, and kind of wishing he was back on that planet.
He was trying to be still, really, he was. But with McCoy prodding his fresh bruises and healing some rather nasty cuts with the dermal regenerator, he was finding it rather hard.
McCoy finished with his cuts and slammed the regenerator back on the small metal table beside the bed, sending it tumbling over and startling Pavel and drawing the attention of the entire Sickbay in the process. McCoy turned back to his patient.
"You're fine. Get the fuck out of my Sickbay." And he stormed into his office without a second glace at Pavel.
McCoy slammed his office door and picked up a bottle of Bourbon and the glass he keeps in his bottom drawer, just for times like this. He tried to pour himself a drink, but when only a few drops came out he realized the bottle was empty. He threw it at the wall and watched it shatter. When that didn't make him feel better he threw the glass too. He was already looking for something else to break when he heard someone yelling at him.
"Bones. Bones!?! What the fuck?"
Oh, so it was Jim. He decided to ignore his best friend in favor or actually finding alcohol. He was about to lean down and look for another bottle when he found himself pressed up against the wall he had just been abusing, held there by his so-called best friend.
"What do you think you're doing Bones? You can't destroy the Sickbay just because its your time of the month or whatever."
"What do you want, Jim?" McCoy struggled to break free from the wall.
"Your nurses called me. You're scaring the patients What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'm fine. Get out of my office, I'm busy."
"I'm not going anywhere. In case you forgot, I'm the captain and when people start destroying my ship, I get to know why. God, you've been pissy all week. Tell me what's going on with you."
Jim let up his hold and McCoy moved to sit down in his desk chair, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands.
"It's nothing Jim, I'm fine, now. Just haven't been sleeping well, is all."
"Well, what the fuck have you been doing? It's not like anything is going on around here. I mean, Chekov was lost, but we found him and now... WAIT. It's been a week since Chekov went missing, right," he didn't pause for confirmation. "And I seem to remember this mood starting around then." Jim paused for a moment then, probably to confirm his logic was sound. "Little Pavel is your Mystery Girl."
McCoy was too tired to argue. Jim had been needling him about Mystery Girl (complete with capitalization because Jim had been using it like it was "her" name) for months, and McCoy didn't feel like hiding it anymore. Not that he probably had anything to hide now, considering his most recent patient examination.
"I wouldn't say 'girl' exactly, but yes Jim. Congratulations, you figured it out. Now can you just fucking leave me alone?"
"Well, you made him cry like a girl..." Jim sounded a little smug, even to his own ears, but he didn't care. He was proud of his little Bonesy. All grown up and dating jail-bait. Jim taught him something after all.
"What are you talking about now, Captain?" McCoy spat out the title, more than a little annoyed by him now.
"Your little Russian's out on that biobed sobbing like a fourteen year old."
"Shit, Jim." McCoy was on his feet and pushing Jim out of his way in seconds. He all but ran back into Medbay.
Pavel was right where McCoy had left him and sobbing just like Jim had said, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking himself. Some of the nurses were staring at him but no one seemed to know what to do.
Without thought McCoy strode to Pavel, picked him up, and settled them both in the armchair next to the bed.
"Shh, Pasha, I'm sorry. I didn't meant it, I was just scared. I'm sorry," McCoy murmured in his ear and rubbed his back soothingly.
"Hush now, darlin', you're safe. It's okay. It's okay, now."
He kissed Pavel on the head and continued rubbing his back and muttering soothingly in his ear until the tears subsided and Pavel just clung to him.
McCoy looked at the chronometer, it was 18:30, most people would be in the Mess and CMO's quarters weren't far from the Sickbay. With Pavel still in his arms he stood and began the short walk toward his room.
"I am not a child, Leonard, I can valk on my own."
For the first time in a week, McCoy wanted to laugh. After all this time, he still found the accent incredibly cute. However, he did not think it would help his case to call the man in his arms adorable.
"I know."
"Then vhy are you carrying me?"
"Because I never wanna let you go."
McCoy didn't care how cheesy it sounded, it was the truth.
They got back to McCoy's room and much to Pavel's chagrin they passed right by the bed. McCoy set him down in the bathroom and quickly and efficiently began to strip them both. He guided them into the shower and easily washed a week's grime off the young man in front of him.
Next he poured a generous amount of shampoo into his hand and massaged it into Pavel's hair and scalp. Pavel moaned at the attention and McCoy was nothing less than amazed that the sound made him half hard, even in his sleep deprived condition. However, he ignored his little problem and quickly switched places with Pavel. He, too, was badly in need of a shower but showed himself significantly less attention and was finished in less than a minute.
He turned off the shower and dried them both, then he led Pavel into the next room. He opened his top drawer, where he let Pavel keep some extra clothes and found a pair of red plaid boxers. He helped Pavel into them, amid grumbles that he was old enough to dress himself thankyouverymuch. Then he opened the next drawer and grabbed a pair of black boxer-briefs, gray sweatpants, and one of his faded old T-shirt, complete with a logo of some band he liked years ago. He put the boxer-briefs and sweatpants on himself, but lifted Pavel's arms and put the T-shirt on him.
For reasons he didn't understand, Pavel seemed to like wearing his clothes, even though they were much too big on him and kind of made him look like a little kid playing dress up in his daddy's clothes (something McCoy tried not to think about). McCoy, however, knew why he liked to see Pavel in his clothes. It sent a possessive thrill through him.
He guided Pavel to the bed and got in next to him lying on his back. Pavel curled into him, pillowed his head on McCoy's chest, felt McCoy's arm secure around his back, and easily fell asleep.