Thanks for the Memories

Based on the video by sakuri69

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Star Trek, not the song, not even the video this is based off. I just have the pleasure of writing this for the loverly lady. Hope y'all enjoy.

Summary: A few days before McCoy joined Starfleet, he and Spock hooked up in some little town in Georgia. They aren't pleased to meet up again – especially since they're supposed to be dating other people. Trouble is, neither can stop thinking about it, much to their shared irritation. Only after Spock almost dies on Vulcan does it occur to McCoy that it might have been more than a one night stand…

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"I don't need a doctor, damn it, I AM a doctor!"

The little woman continued to try to usher him to one of the seats in the main area of the shuttle craft, but McCoy was having none of it. "You need to get back to your seat." she said in her little stern voice.

McCoy continued to argue with her. "I had one. In the bathroom with no windows." he said, thumbing over his shoulder. "Y'see, I suffer from aviaphobia. That means a fear of dying in something that flies."

The little woman, however, wasn't going to have it. "Sir, for your own safety, sit down, or else I'll make you sit down." Her tone implied violence, and McCoy was suddenly struck with the image of a quick jab to the throat that might cut his windpipe. He nodded and sat down next to a young man who looks like he took a beating not too long ago.

This had not been his week. First, that bitch had made sure that he wouldn't see his daughter for the next few years, and then he'd gotten completely hammered and done something he hadn't done since high school. A one night stand, with a man. And now, here he was in Iowa, following the idea that maybe risking his life to get to this Academy might be worth it if he could save lives again. His stomach churned as he belted up, and he felt it only fair to warn the kid. He leaned over and made sure he had his attention. "I may throw up on you." he said, turning his attention back to his buckles.

The kid looked around him and tilted his head a little. "I think these things are pretty safe." he said, and his tone was just the tiniest bit patronizing.

McCoy couldn't help the way his lips tightened over his teeth in a grimacing sneer. "Don't pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. Solar flare might crop up and cook us in our seats. And wait till you're sittin' pretty with a case of Andorian shingles, see if you're so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleedin'. Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence."

The kid shook his head incredulously. "Well I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space." he said.

"Yeah. Well, I got nowhere else to go, the ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce." said McCoy as he pulled a little flask out of one of the many pockets on his jacket. "All I got left is my bones." He raised his flask in a mock toast before taking a pull on it. Scotch. It burned good.

The kid, for all it was worth, chuckled quietly, and McCoy felt the rich tones of his voice tickle down his spine. "The name's Jim Kirk." he said, holding out a hand for McCoy to shake.

"McCoy. Leonard McCoy." McCoy, instead of shaking the offered hand, passed the kid the flask. "Are you really gonna throw up?" Kirk asked as he passed the scotch back.

McCoy chuckled himself, the first time in days. "Maybe."

He did, not even two minutes after take-off.

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