Title: Five Time Bones Never Saw Kirk Naked (And One Time He Did)
Author: ficlicious
Word Count: 953
Genres: Includes: Friendship, Romance, Smut, Kink, Humor
Pairing: Bones/Kirk
Summary: It's all in the title.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. I just like playing with them, because Roddenberry made such awesome toys.

Five: The Cross-Dressing Incident

Leonard McCoy entered his office to find his captain digging through his laser scalpels as if his life depended on it. While it was odd to find Kirk voluntarily in SickBay – McCoy normally had to drag him kicking and screaming – and it was odd that he was muttering under his breath while picking up and tossing each successive model of scalpel, that wasn't the oddest thing.

That dubious honor belonged to the corset and black fishnets he happened to be wearing. The eyeshadow up to his eyebrows and the fuck-me red lipstick didn't really help.

McCoy froze, the medical padd forgotten in suddenly nerveless hands. He thought for a moment, trying to remember if schizophrenia ran in his family. He glanced at the chronometer, but it was long past April Fool's Day. Had he eaten something that violently disagreed with him at the mess hall at lunch? Was this related to the engine swill Scotty had passed around at the last poker game?

Kirk glanced up, did a double take, then looked back down. He fidgeted, cleared his throat, fiddled with the device he'd picked up, then put it down and straightened. He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut again when McCoy shot his hand up to stop him from speaking.

Without a word, McCoy turned around and exited. He waited a moment, then re-entered.

Nope. Not a hallucination.

McCoy sighed. "This outta be good."

"This is totally not what it looks like."

"...Really."

Kirk opened and closed his mouth another couple of times, which didn't help the surrealness of the situation. Kirk always had something snappy to say. It was one of his less endearing qualities. McCoy waited patiently while Kirk worked it out n his head, wondering if he should be in hysterics with laughter, or hysterics with tears. The dicotomy left him feeling oddly detached.

He also wondered if this is what felt like to be Spock.

Green-blooded hobgoblin.

"Okay," Kirk said finally, right at the fraying edge of McCoy's patience. "Maybe it is what it looks like."

"Oh good. I was beginning to wonder if I should have my eyes checked." He crossed the room, put down the padd before he broke it, and sat on the edge of his desk.

"Really," Kirk said with uncharacteristic nervousness, "it's all Gaila's fault."

"I see."

"I mean, sure. Maybe I said some things that maybe, in hindsight, would have annoyed her, but she went way too far."

"Uh huh." McCoy felt another headache coming on. He seemed to get them with alarming regularity around his best friend. He rubbed his temples with both hands. He was going to name this one Kirk. Just like all the others. "Were you drunk?"

"There might have been alcohol involved. But that's not the point. The woman is crazy! I don't know what it is about those Orion chicks, but when they're feeling insulted, they're just flat out psychotic."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said so." McCoy tried not to take sadistic pleasure at the panicked look that flitted across Kirk's face. He debated booze. If he wanted the details, he knew he was going to have to break out the Cardassian fire whiskey. Drunk Kirk was everyone's buddy, and didn't care so much about making an ass of himself as Sober Kirk did. No, he decided in the next moment. Kirk and Gaila could be fairly volatile. He figured whatever happened, he could really live without knowing all the gory, graphic details. "What the hell are you skulking around in here for, then? Shouldn't you be off making a damn fool of yourself to get back in Gaila's good graces?"

"Yeah, that's the thing. I already did that, but she won't let me out of the corset. So I figured, who'd have the proper tools to get me out of this thing? And my first thought was-"

"Scotty." It was snarky, but Kirk oh-so rarely gave McCoy a lead-in like that. He'd never forgive himself for passing it up.

Kirk blinked, looking contemplative. "I never thought of Scotty."

"Great. So when you're trapped in BDSM gear, your first thought is to find me. I'm a doctor, Jim, not a dominatrix." He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out the one working laser scalpel he had left after the last time the Enterprise had gotten boarded by hostiles, and tossed it. Kirk caught it with both hands. "Bring that back to me, or I'll have Chekov dig into the security files and make sure this conversation is broadcast for the entire ship."

Kirk's eyes narrowed. "Remind me to revoke Mister Chekov's security clearance."

McCoy smirked. "A little suffering is good for the soul, Jim." He twisted to pick up the padd again, and stood to move around his desk to the chair. "There's a vacant examination room. You can-" His mouth twisted into a gleeful grin. "-remove your clothing in there."

Kirk shuffled the scalpel into one hand and clapped McCoy on the shoulder with the other. A smile, his real smile, not the bright, cocky one he pasted on for everyone else, blossomed. "Thanks, Bones. I owe you one."

"I'll add it to your tab," McCoy muttered, turning his attention back to his files. Kirk departed, and his office was blessedly empty again.

A few minutes later, Kirk's head poked around the door. He'd scrubbed the makeup off his face and was wrapped in a bedsheet, toga-style. "Hey Bones?"

McCoy growled. "Dammit, Jim! What now?"

"I seem to have misplaced my uniform. Can I borrow one of yours?"