Takes place some time before STID. Because I spent an unnatural amount of time wondering why they changed Bones' hair color.
Disclaimer: I don't own ST
Leonard knew he was past his prime, but damn it, he wasn't that old. Sure he wasn't as sprightly as Jim pain-in-the-ass Kirk, had trouble running after the little shit, and woke up with more aches and stiff joints every morning. That wasn't a sign that he was old. He hadn't hit forty... yet. But what did that count in today's day and age? Life expectancy was one hundred and twenty years for heaven's sake!
But this morning, staring at the mirror in his bathroom, all alone and contemplative, he caught a dash of gray stubble. Frowning, he shaved it off. But no, the trouble didn't end there.
"Lights up to ninety percent," he rasped.
Leonard cursed as the bright light poured in. Remind him never to switch from thirty to ninety again. He stared long and hard at the mirror. Tight cheeks, firm nose, no sagging weight. But there wasn't much he could do about the crinkles about his eyes or those few lines etched into his face. This was stupid- since when did Leonard H. McCoy care about his looks? Long as he was decent, he was fine.
There were flecks of light reflecting off his hair. Funny- his dark strands had never been that bright. He peered closer. To his frustration, it got blurrier. He backed up. There, now it was clearer.
And far-sighted too now. Whoop dee do.
He rubbed at the strands. The shadows didn't cover the light.
"Don't tell me..."
White hair. He clawed at his hair with desperate hands. White, not gray, white. He wasn't even forty! A few strands of white here and there. But so many clumps made it all too obvious to the naked eye. He told himself to finish his business and get to work- no doctor's got any reason to dilly dally over some white hair. But no one was watching.
So Leonard spent the next half hour attempting to pull out as much light hair as possible, combing over them all the while. No one would find out. No one would find out.
It was all Jim's fault. It must have been- racking Leonard's brain with worry, making irritating comments, ignoring basic health precautions, taking the good doctor on unsavory away missions, keeping everyone up with his loud obnoxious voice- it was all Jim Kirk's fault. He was literally losing years of his life because of that idiot!
"Christine, you getting another coffee?"
"About to, doctor."
Leonard flashed his trademark scale at the nurse, adjusting the hypos in his hands. He should probably be more concerned about that stupid kid who burned his fingers in the science labs, but he wasn't in the mood to rant. Or care. It was a slow day for sickbay and he felt like some old grandpa in the countryside retirement house. He wasn't even forty.
"Get me another one," he told her.
"But that'd be your tenth cup this shift."
"Just do it- I'm not in the mood to argue."
Christine eyed him with concern. She came up beside him, landing a gentle hand on his arm. "You look down in the dumps today, doctor. Downer than usual that is- what's wrong?"
"Can't a man just get some coffee round here?" he snapped, more harshly than he intended.
But Christine was unfazed. You ain't fooling no one, she seemed to say. Leonard lowered his voice.
"Am I getting old?"
Her lips puckered. What came out next was a contained laugh, as if this was some funny matter. As if he was some joke to the universe.
"Oh my-" she laughed, "oh, Len, I didn't peg you as the type."
"Just answer the damn question!"
"You're not young, doctor, but I don't think you're anywhere near wrinkly. There's nothing wrong with being mature, is there?"
"I'm covered with white hair and my eyesight's gettin' bad. And let me tell you, it sure isn't myopia."
"Everyone knows your hair's losing its color. It's nothing to be ashamed of- my father's was already grey by your age-"
That was not what he needed to hear. Leonard waved her comment off. She had just implied it: he was getting old. Soon Joanna would be bringing him grandkids and they'd all visit Grandpa Len while everyone he knew stayed young forever.
"Don't give me that look," Christine said, still smiling as if this was funny, "if you're that concerned, why don't you try the colorizer- I've got one you can borrow tonight. And there's always plastic surgery-"
"You know how I feel about that crackery, don't even say it." He made sure no one was in earshot before he muttered in a near shy whisper, "I'll come for the colorizer at 1900."
Leonard was feeling snappy by 1500. And so pissed that he couldn't handle being cooped up in sickbay. The bridge was the only other place to go, two unfortunate ensigns already victims to his temper. Damned brats should have watched where they were going.
"Oh, hello doctor McCoy!" Chekov piped from his place.
Leonard grunted in response. Sewenteen, his whole life ahead. His hair would stay brown and curly for at least two more decades. All that energy and happiness and youth. He wanted to punch the boy in the face.
"Bored down in sickbay, Bones?" Jim asked, that stupid grin tugging at his lips.
"What, like you never get bored here- all you do is sit in a damn chair all day!"
"On the contrary, doctor- the bridge is a most eventful place," his least favorite Vulcan added unhelpfully.
Leonard rounded on him. "No one asked you, hobgoblin." He wanted to punch Spock in the face too. If Jim caused half of that white hair, Spock caused the rest, and the two of them together gave him all those wrinkles. And the damn pixie would live up to two hundred. He'd probably spend the next hundred years with baby smooth features and jet black hair. So black that it just made Leonard's hair look whiter.
"Someone's grumpy today," Jim said, still looking and acting like a fresh faced punk.
The only reason Jim was so young was because Leonard had sacrificed too much of his own youth for him. And the thanks he got? White hair.
"Maybe I wouldn't be so grumpy if you actually followed my orders for once. I put you on a salad diet- never seen a vegetable in your mouth."
"Oh come on, don't bring that up now-"
"Don't bring that up now," Leonard mocked, rolling his eyes, "who cares if my CMO dies from aggravation? Who cares, right? I'm Captain Kirk and I don't care."
"Bones, what's your problem today? I rain on your parade or something?"
"Perhaps the doctor is undergoing an emotional breakdown, as I predicted two weeks prior."
Leonard wanted to punch them in the face and sock them in the jaw and stuff his white hair down their throats. "Well, you know what I predict, Spock- I predict you shut up before your green blood gets all over my fist and I don't patch your logical behind up!"
Jim had the nerve to laugh. The rest of the bridge never gave them a second glance, as if this was all normal.
The CMO couldn't tell Jim at this point. Not after that embarrassing display on the bridge. He could already hear the idiot's jokes- aww, Bones, you're worried about your looks. Don't worry- I'll be your grandson. Hey, look, it's grandpop Bones! Take it easy there, wouldn't wanna aggravate your old bones, Bones!
Leonard would never live it down. And if he did, it'd be because he murdered James Kirk, and that would involve a good few court martials. So that left one other options- at least he could trust this one not to let slip.
"You done yet, hobgoblin?" Leonard snapped.
"I believe the Terran term is 'calm your tits,' it has only been two point two minutes."
Calm your tits... Leonard wanted to smack himself in the face. "Do me a favor, Spock. One- never say anything like that again, and two- do not learn to speak from Jim. He's the worst influence, like a damn parasite who won't leave. Plus, you suck at it."
And with that, the Vulcan returned to counting the white hairs on Leonard's head while the latter sat on a stool. Christine's colorizer lay on the ground. He would scan the head later, plug in the right amount of hair for accuracy, and voila, bye bye white hair for the next eight months.
"Fifty three-"
"Okay, that's enough."
"Doctor, I am not done."
"Well, are you far from done?"
"No."
"Then we're good. Now to put my head into that devil machine."
Spock gathered the colorizer into his arms as Leonard rose to meet him. The Vulcan raised a brow. "I find your concern over this terribly illogical."
"I find your eyebrows illogical. Now give me that thing."
Insert dye. Specified area. Strand numbers. Scan. Colorize.
Leonard ran his eyes over the labeled buttons for a good three times before he felt confident enough to allow the scan function to highlight his skull. When that was done, he entered the number of strands and highlighted the designated area.
"Can't seem to find the hair dye- Spock, what color am I?"
"It appears that we do not have the color of your hair. If you wish, you may choose red, blue, lavender."
Damn it! Leonard grit his teeth. Just when he found a solution. "Can't go around looking like a clown!"
"Or black dye."
Leonard furrowed his brows. His hair was quite obviously brown. A sudden change in color would be too obvious and he sure didn't want anyone thinking he was one of those fashion mongers.
"Black is a pleasing hair color- very logical," Spock added, like the egotistical alien idiot he was.
Leonard had two choices now. Dye his hair- all of it- black and leave ten years younger, only for everyone to whisper and point behind his back and for Jim to have that smug grin. Or he could back out and accept his fate as Grandpa Bones.
"On your honor, Spock, you will not breathe a word of this to any soul, living or dead."
"On my honor, Doctor McCoy."
"Oh, looking handsome today, doctor," Uhura informed him as she brushed past Leonard toward her station.
"Thanks," he said, the weight of the world gone.
Chekov greeted him just as enthusiastically as the day before. Leonard waved. Even his hands felt light. He had been a in a pretty good mood since the morning. A full head of dark hair, just like he used to be.
"Bones, what the hell happened to you?" Jim asked, his face a picture of unpleasant puzzlement.
"And good day to you too, thanks for asking."
"No, your hair- it's different?"
"Oh, this?" Leonard touched a strand of black hair. Not a trace of white. "This is a little accident- had some trouble with the replicator last night."
"That makes no sense. How?" Jim wasn't convinced.
"Captain, the doctor speaks the truth. There was quite a lot of yelling from his quarters the night before."
If Spock knew what a wink meant, Leonard would have exchanged one with him. They settled for passing a knowing glance. Jim, on the other hand, only frowned and crossed his legs. He shrugged.
"Whatever- I've got more to worry about than the color of your hair," the captain said, and like the egotistical blond idiot he was, Jim proceeded to shift the subject toward himself. No one asked about Dr. McCoy's hair again.
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this little piece and feel free to review.