It had been going on 48 hours when the first waves of deep, bone aching weariness started to settle over him and when he had to blink a few extra times to clear the blurriness eating at the edges of his periphery; that was when he stuck himself with his second stimulant.

The 'psst' of the hypo and gentle pinch of discomfort barely registered before he was up and out of his office, tugging on his bloody scrubs. He'd need to change them, he thought briefly, shuttering through a list a mile and half long in his head of things he had to do, like eat, change Jim's bandages, hunt down Spock, beat him, then treat him, get some coffee, counsel the crew, do hundreds of autopsies, check on Pike, sleep... his mind whirled and he stopped to take a steadying breath. Prioritizing was the only way he was staying sane.

And he had to be sane, steady and act refreshed. He had another surgery to perform and being jittery wouldn't cut it. It wasn't like he could just hand it off to another doctor. He was the only certified MD onboard, at least, the only one functioning past making their bio-beds go 'beep beep beep' which was steadily driving McCoy up the walls.

He brushed past Chapel with a murmured apology, leaving her gaping in his path, because 'did Doctor McCoy just apologize?'

He pushed into the prep room and peeled off his two day old, multiple impromptu, have to have it now surgery scrubs over his head and down his legs, barely processing the lingering stiffness and sharp ache in his shoulder blades as he rolled them.

He was dressed and scrubbing in before he realized he was even walking into the O.R. Bright, central lights were trained and more attentive than anyone else in the room on the prone figure laying on the sterile table that not but forty hours earlier had held both Pike and Kirk.

McCoy took a deep breath and cleared the phantom blood from his memories, snapping the latex gloves over his surgeon gowns sleeves. He eyed each of his attending nurses, noting that they all needed a good round of scotch, or three, a hearty meal and a couple days hibernation.

They would get them, he'd make sure of it.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Let's begin." And with that, the laser scalpel was handed to him without a word.

/

It would take weeks to get back to Earth. Their warp core was gone and they were being pushed sluggishly through space by propulsion alone. Scotty was beside himself, working his body and hands down to the bone and into an early grave.

McCoy would have none of it.

He had made a deal with Jim and had set the plan in motion as soon as the Captain begrudgingly agreed to let Bones sneakily and very underhandedly lure Scotty out of Engineering with promises of sandwiches.

He wasn't sorry when the wide eyed Scotsman realized that there was no sandwiches and that he had been led into a trap as soon as the hypo hit his exposed neck. He was so exhausted that he blearily flailed around while he tried to escape the wrath of the sedative hypo McCoy had been wielding when he had rounded the corner.

"Little too late, Scotty," Bones murmured, his own body, aching and strained from overuse, protesting at having to lift deadweight. He grunted and managed to get Scotty's ass on the bio-bed and unceremoniously let him drop halfway, sprawling across the sheets. He grunted, stooping and grappling the dead-to-the-world man's legs, hauling them up with a vein bulging from his forehead before finally throwing them up and over the lip of the bed with a satisfied sigh.

He straightened Scotty up a bit, not quite that cruel as to leave him in a joint aching position when the man woke. Though if anyone asked, it would be because he didn't want to hear him bitching about being sore.

He threw a blanket over Scotty and dropped the lights over his bed to pitch blackness as he made it to his office.

As the door closed McCoy sagged into his own exhaustion. There was no time for him to rest, there was still so many untreated injuries filing into sickbay. Excuses running from, 'It was just some bruising! I didn't think it was that bad,' to, 'I didn't even realize I was hurt till someone said I was bleeding all over the floor.'

He had already ordered over half of his staff off duty before realizing that he was still going to be swamped with dunder-headed ensigns, yeomans and various other morons that had taken upon themselves to diagnose their maladies as nothing serious.

He ran his hands, aching, swollen and tight from overuse, through his mess of hair and then rubbed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets viciously.

Spots exploded from the pressure and he slowly let them clear, eyes closed in a small moment of respite before the next idiot came in from the Narada incident with injuries severe enough to have them pissing blood or hemorrhaging slowly into their abdominal cavity.

Well, that was just the one case and internal bleeding was probably not something he'd see again anytime soon unless it was someone being brought in via body bag.

He wanted to weep in frustration when his comm went off because he needed to sleep, but there was no sleep for Doctors on call 24/7, especially for the only Doctor on board a spacecraft currently a month and a handful of weeks away from Earth.

Bones was a little startled when he stood straight and realized he was seeing double. Stimulant number– he couldn't remember, pressed against his neck and hissed and pinched at his tender skin as he depressed the hypo. The afterthought of rubbing the spot where countless pinches of tiny needles had injected pick-me-ups over the past week was routine and he didn't even realize he had been doing it when he walked out into sickbay to meet his next patient until the patient commented on it.

"Neck bothering you Doctor?"

Sulu, his brain supplied as it rattled off his medical record – age; too fucking young, list of past injuries; less than Jim's and more than Chekhov's, and allergies; none so far.

He blinked owlishly as Sulu tilted his head in worry. Realizing that he hadn't answered he dropped his hand from his neck, "Just old, kid."

Sulu looked like he wanted to argue because you'd have to blind to miss the little totes of baggage hanging out under his eyes and pasty sallowness of his skin from having stayed up under way too many stimulants.

Bones cleared his throat, "What's the problem?"

And it was all business then. The light tremors that his hands seemed to have picked up, sometime in the past 24 hours he's surmised, have subsided for the time being and he started a list of tiny miracles in his head, next to the super fucking long list of things he's never going to finish if he crashes.

His tricoder is out and sweeping up and down Sulu before the man has even a second to reply, "Doc, it's just a sprain."

McCoy snorts, "I see that. You're also dehydrated and," Bones looks hard at Sulu, "How many meals have you missed?"

The young man squirms under McCoy's haggard glare because it's somewhat more terrifying than his regular one, "I've ate, I've just," Sulu halts and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, "It's just hard to eat with so much that needs fixing."

And if McCoy wasn't such a fucking hypocrite, he'd agree, pat Sulu on the back and tell him to take it easy. But McCoy was a fucking hypocrite and glared at the young helmsman and with that sharp tongue, he issued forth a command with husky and cracking words from his dry throat, "Get some fucking food, Sulu, otherwise I'm gonna shove a goddamn tube down your throat and fucking force feed you. You have a responsibility to take care of yourself, kid. You don't want me on your case."

Sulu curbed the glare forming because he knew the Doctor hadn't been able to rest and didn't have a choice. The rest of them did, even if Scotty disagreed. Kirk had ordered it before he had collapsed on the bridge; no working where you didn't get eight hours sleep. But damn if those words didn't sting, because McCoy wasn't taking care of himself and he expected everyone around him to do so. So, Sulu nodded curtly and Bones' face softened.

McCoy rubbed his forehead, pinching the bridge of nose every so often, "Just, give me a minute, kid." The Doctor had leaned against the bio-bed and Sulu watched worriedly as the man's legs seemed to sway. Bones sucked in a breath and stood back upright, seemingly over the spell, "Sorry, just been a long day."

Sulu nodded slowly, "I'll go grab some food after. Anything else?"

Bones held up Sulu's arm and prodded at the elbow that was swollen and bruised, gaging the young man's reaction, "It's old Earth medicine, but for a sprain like this, sometimes the old techniques are the best." Bones eyed the appendage once more before letting it go, "Get an ice pack and let it sit, should bring the swelling down. As for me snapping at you earlier, I'm sorry. Just be sure to get your allocated calories for the day and suck down some water."

Sulu smiled a small smile, "No problem, Doctor. Be sure to take care of yourself too," Bones flashed the young man a withering glare and Sulu held his hands up in placation, "You look like shit, just calling it like I see it, Doc."

"Scram, kid," he snarled, but it lacked the heat and ferocity it normally held.

/

Another week had passed and now McCoy was hunting down Jim because the asshole needed to have another exam. He was passed the rage and self-righteous anger of Jim never taking care of himself and listening to his body when it reached its limits.

Because as much as Bones wanted to ream Jim out for his recklessness, he himself was worse. He'd run out of stimulant hypos a few days ago and was now running on sheer willpower and replicated coffee that tasted like feet.

He'd need to talk to Scotty about that because he was sure it was some kind of retribution for teasing him with sandwiches.

He was unfocused and incredibly jumpy from the caffeine in his system, but he'd managed not to scare anyone so far, at least, he thought he hadn't. But then he thought of that little ensign two floors and a hallway back that had squawked because he nearly took her head off with a left hook. She snuck up on him in his defense. He grimaced and belatedly thought about pasting a sign to his back and front that said to not approach him.

Jim was on the bridge as he suspected and had dreaded this confrontation the whole way up because then everyone would know how manically tired he was, hiding in sickbay had some perks.

"Jim," he croaked, voice rusty and gritty. He walked up to the command chair and settled his body against it, relishing the sweet reprieve for just a moment. He closed his eyes, something springing to the forefront of his mind and cursed himself. He forgot the stupid fucking hypo he needed for intimidation purposes.

The Captain shrank sheepishly into his chair. No matter the quality of the Doctor's voice, he knew when he was in trouble, "Sorry, Bones. Been busy."

McCoy grunted and fought with insanely reluctant eyelids, peeling them open to catch Jim's, "Too busy to just swing by medical, let me check your healing progress and be on your merry way?"

Jim smiled crookedly, "Course."

Bones sighed heavily, pushing away from the chair with some difficulty, hating how heavy his limbs felt and hating more how little energy he had in him to bully Jim down to sickbay "Fine, come by later, otherwise I'm going to skin you alive."

Jim blinked once, then twice and watched as McCoy shuffled off the bridge, "Did that just happen?"

Sulu cleared his throat, "Sir, Doctor McCoy's been on call since the Narada incident." He gave the Captain a meaningful look and Jim's mouth gaped open in astonished comprehension. Sulu nodded at him, "People keep coming in, having delayed the inevitable, but what they don't understand is that medical has suffered fort it."

Jim swallowed hard, standing and eyed the Vulcan hovering near the science station, "Spock, take the conn."

He tilted his head lightly, "Sir."

Jim watched the Vulcan sweep over to stand near the command chair and had to stifle the itching tightness that closed around his throat whenever he was near Spock. He assumed he would get over that whole strangling thing, but it wasn't going to be soon.

His thoughts turned to Bones and wondered angrily why he hadn't noticed sooner. Bones was going to give himself a coronary if he didn't just stop.

The turbolift ride down to sickbay was quick and efficient, like the rest of the Enterprise. He looked around surprised at the number of crewmen in various states of consciousness. Then noticed Bones at the very end of the row of bio-beds, body swaying lightly and hand quivering as he scrolled through readings of the patient he was currently attending.

Jim idly wondered how much Bones' would hate him if he sedated him right now. He looked around and noticed a distinct lack of nurses and frowned.

Narrowing his eyes, Jim marched up to his friend and spun him around, horrified that the man was so out of it that his balance was shot. He grabbed for Bones as he tilted sideways and hauled him upright, finally getting a good look at his face. Jim frowned and smoothed a hand over Bones mussed hair, terrified that that the man hadn't said anything or pulled out of his grip.

"Bones?"

And just like that, McCoy snapped out of it and snatched himself away from Kirk's support, instantly regretting it as his knees crumbled under him. Jim swore and gathered Bones in his arms and led him from the prying eyes of his few conscious patients and into his office. He lowered Bones' heavily lethargic body to the small couch and leveled a half-hearted glare at his friend.

"How long has it been since you've slept, Bones?" He asked as he sat beside the Doctor and tugged him into the crook of his arm, delighted when the older man's head lolled onto his shoulder.

"Lost count."

Jim frowned again and dreaded the next question, "How have you kept yourself going?"

Bones bloodshot eyes met his as he managed to pick up and turn his head to Jim's and he couldn't help but memorize how sheepish his friend looked, "Guess you won't take sheer willpower as an answer."

Jim cracked a grin, "I might have. You're stubborn, you know that?"

Bones snorted and let his head drop back to Kirk's shoulder, "Lots of coffee. That tastes like feet. Jim, why does my coffee taste like feet?"

Jim stifled a chuckle and ran a hand through Bones' hair, enjoying the feeling of his friend melting into his side, "I'll have Scotty look at it, don't worry."

"Think Scotty's the one who did it," he heard Bones sigh and watched as the Doctor brought his hand up and murmured, "Can't do surgery. Can't do anything."

Jim grimaced at the tremors racking Bones' hand and captured the appendage in his own. His fingers rubbed circles around the Doctor's swollen knuckles and frowned at the frigid temperature of it, "You need to sleep Bones."

"Can't. Too much to do. Only one that can do it." He recited monotonously, like he'd spouted it to a hundred people before him and for all Jim knew, he could very well have.

"What about your nurses?" Jim asked, tucking McCoy's other hand between them to warm it up.

"Need rest."

Jim's brows rose dramatically, how busy had sickbay been? "And if an emergency comes in? How are you going to deal with that?"

He felt Bones' shoulders sag, "I don't know."

Jim didn't say anything else and refused to let the Doctor up, not like he was trying. He hoped that Bones would sleep, even if it was only for a few hours and kept up the rhythmic sweeping of his fingers through his hair, listening as the Doctor's erratic breathing slowed and deepened.

He wondered just how much damage Bones had done to himself and wanted to kick himself for not thinking of him sooner. He hadn't even realized how bad it had gotten until Sulu had said something. "Lights out."

/

McCoy startled out of his sleep, not but an hour in with the list of things he had to do screaming in his head. His heartbeat was thready and fluttering madly in his chest and he belatedly remembered that the side effects for all the stimulants he'd taken was exactly this.

He was surprised he hadn't woken Jim who had wrapped himself around him like an octopus, grabby hands and all. He wanted to stay here, ensconced in the warmth of his friend and hypnotic rhythm of Jim's breathing.

But he had too much to do. He had to finish writing up the autopsy reports, had to write condolences to families, had too many left to cremate, too many left to embalm and settle into their respective body-bags, had to make sure everyone was going to who they were supposed to, had to check in on Pike again because there was a serious chance he needed another surgery and, and – he took a breath and squeezed his eyes shut as a migraine bloomed across his head and thudded erratically with his equally erratic heartbeat.

That was when he knew things were bad because his body was very much in open revolt against him and he couldn't control it.

He nudged the Captain, "Jim," he cleared his throat because that was a pathetic excuse for a voice that just eked out of his vocal cords, "Jim."

The man jerked awake and clumsily scrubbed his hand across his eyes, "Bones? What's wrong?"

McCoy cursed under his breath because he couldn't believe he was going to ask, "Get a sedative and painkiller then help me to my quarters."

Jim sucked in a breath at the request, "Lights to 45%."

Bones hissed and screwed his eyes shut tighter, throwing an arm across them, "Goddammit!"

Jim frowned in concern and extricated himself from the tangle of their limbs, wondering when that had happened. Standing he ran a hand through his hair and stepped up to Bones, settling his hand on the man's heaving chest, "They in your usual spot?"

Through gritted teeth he hissed out a, "Yes."

Jim nodded and raced around the office, pulling out hypos and other things he thought might come in handy, like some ice and hot packs.

"Come on, Bones, let's get you to your bed."

McCoy really wanted to make a sarcastic quip about that line, but he couldn't find the energy and was focused on not falling on his face as Jim tugged him up from the couch. Everything lurched and spun and didn't get better. It had him rethinking relocating and almost told Jim to dump him on a bio-bed, but his throat was closed up tight and he had to fight to breathe and keep the acrid bile bubbling in the back of throat from coming forward.

"You alright, Bones?"

Jim sounded concerned but all he could manage was a weak nod.

The walk to his room seemed to take forever and when Jim stopped and he heard the telltale beep of a code being punched in, he nearly dropped right then and there, causing Jim to curse and catch Bones before he hit the floor.

"Jesus, Bones." He hissed as he all but hauled the now boneless man into the room, vice like grip bruising and strong.

McCoy moaned and tried to pull his arm from that hold, trying to gather the strength to move his legs on his own again but Jim held him closer and tighter, "I've got you," he whispered in his ear and Bones thought it was highly unfair that he couldn't suppress the shiver that raced up his spine from the intensity behind that statement.

But that's what Jim had always done to him.

Jim all but awkwardly waltzed Bones across the room, fighting to keep them both upright and limbs untangled before he could finally back the Doctor to his bed, watching in fascination as euphoria erupted on Bones face as his knees hit the edge and dropped languidly onto it.

Bones head rolled to the side and hazel eyes, bleary and bloodshot landed on Jim's, "Stay."

The plea was quiet and ragged and Jim fought hard not to jump in bed and snuggled into the Doctor right then and there, "Wasn't even thinking about leaving, Bones."

He prepped the hypo with painkiller in it and watched as Bones exposed his neck, waiting for the injection. Jim sucked air through his teeth seeing the little discolored marks marring the smooth skin there and ran a hand over them, "You've over done the stimulants, haven't you."

Bones weary eyes met his again, "Yea."

Jim peered at the other side and sighed, it too was marked up. He swallowed his anger and depressed the medication into Bones' neck, "You hurt anywhere?" He asked as he grabbed a hot patch.

"Head, chest," he squeezed his eyes shut, "Shoulders. Everywhere."

Jim nodded in alarm, his own heart squeezing painfully, and made a note to have Chapel come in here and scan Bones, "Your arm hurt?" Because he was certain that too many stimulants and pushing your body like Bones had could result in a nasty heart attack.

Bones made a movement that may have been trying to discern just that, but it was more of a jerk of his shoulders and twitch of a hand, "No."

Jim wasn't appeased, resolved now more than ever to get Chapel in here ASAP, and turned Bones over, tugging up his shirt. He ran a rough, calloused hand up his spine and couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as the man beneath the touch shivered again, "Tell me where it hurts."

He laid a heavy hand on top of his shoulder and moved down towards the scapula when Bones hissed, "Right there, huh?"

He peeled the backing off the hot pack and smoothed it on top the deep ache and repeated it on the other side. He turned Bones over and stared at the man that had brought him aboard the Enterprise at his own risk. He sighed, "Now I know how you feel when it's me that you're trying to re-piece together after bar and Romulan fights."

Bones snorted and grabbed Kirk's hand, but the usual strength and nimbleness were gone, replaced by stiff and swollen digits that couldn't grip onto anything.

Jim knew that Bones was far gone if he was openly showing affection and he definitely wouldn't appreciate him calling Chapel in to witness it, but for his own piece of mind, he needed to know if Bones was on the edge of heart attack or not, so he flipped open his comm and radioed her to come to the Doctor's quarters.

Bones didn't say anything and Jim's concern began to flare up to dangerous heights, "Bones?"

The Doctor's head swiveled around and it took longer than Jim had liked for him to focus, to recognize him, "What?"

He swallowed hard and casually let his fingers trail to the Doctor's wrist, trying to catch a hint of what his pulse was doing, "Everything alright?"

He wanted to frown, terrified at the flutteringly halting heartbeat under his fingers but kept the light smile on his face, "'M fine, Jim." The Doctor's eyes unfocused and his brows scrunched together, "Why aren't we sleeping?"

He smiled wryly, "Need to know if the sedative I'm going to give is going to kill you or not."

Bones' face scrunched up in confusion and Jim had to fight the urge to coo at him because it was stupidly adorable, "What?"

And just then the room's door swished open and Chapel came striding to the bed, eyes like thunder as she caught sight of McCoy. She glared at him a moment longer before tearing her gaze away to meet Jim's eyes, "If I had known it had gotten this bad, I'd have sedated him long ago, but he's good at hiding and playing martyr."

The acid behind her voice seemed to stir something in Bones because he was trying to wrench his hand from Jim's to sit up. Kirk wasn't going to have any of that and splayed his hand on the Doctor's chest to keep him down, "Can you make sure his heart is alright?"

Chapel nodded curtly and brought her tricoder out. Jim watched her face as she swept the little device over Bones' body and couldn't help the weight that settled in his gut when she frowned. Her voice was subdued when she turned back to Jim, "I don't think using a sedative would be wise. He's fine otherwise, but don't use anything that can interfere with his body's natural rhythm, because Jim, his body is so exhausted that putting him into too deep a sleep would not be good. He might stop breathing or his heart stop beating."

Jim wanted to scream in frustration and hit something because, "Goddammit, Bones!" Jim seethed for a moment before he surged to his feet, causing Chapel to recoil away from the bed, "You harp on me about taking care of myself but you can't do the same?"

He whirled on the man and pulled at his hair, face screwed up in worried frustration. Bones closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, "I know."

Jim deflated and Chapel excused herself. He sat back down on the bed and began to tug his shoes off and then his shirt. He turned to Bones and did the same, "Pants on or off, you're going to be in bed for a long time."

Bones swallowed because he knew there was no room to argue, couldn't bring himself to because he knew how badly he hurt Jim with his carelessness, "Off."

Jim nodded and began undoing his slacks, woefully aware that this was not what he had in mind when he imagined finally getting Bones' pants off. He was slightly amused by the little intake of air that Bones had sucked in when he had brushed against his hipbone. He chuckled and Bones growled, "Shut up," and muttered something about it not being fair that he couldn't quell the reactions.

Jim filed that away for later use, because he would be revisiting those little reactions his good Doctor seemed to be having quite frequently to his innocent touches.

He doffed his own pants and crawled into bed, helping Bones under the blankets and tugged him against his body, telling the room to cut the lights.

He returned to carding his fingers through the Doctor's locks and dipped down once he was sure the man was asleep to brush his lips across his forehead, "Please sleep, Bones."

/

McCoy surfaced from sleep slowly and languidly and realized that he could focus clearly and concisely for the first time in a long time. He smiled and rubbed his eyes clear of the sleep that fogged them and sighed, relaxed and free of the deep aches he'd come to call close friends from the past two weeks.

He rolled his shoulders, satisfied when he felt little resistance and only a small bloom of pain. He flexed his hands, relieved that the swelling was gone, even if the stiffness was still present. It would dissipate soon enough.

The next thing on his mind was food and he knew he'd be pushing his luck, but a cup of coffee would be amazing. So long as it didn't taste like feet.

He rolled over and nearly squawked because Jim was right there, passed out and peaceful with scruff dusting his chin and cheeks. McCoy drank him in and wondered just how long he had slept, because he couldn't bring himself to believe that Jim had slept in here for that long, or even got up and came back.

He swallowed and reached a tentative hand to his face, his thumb catching Jim's sleep chapped lips and hand settling lightly on his cheek. He nearly recoiled when Jim's thick lashed lids fluttered open, crystal blue eyes sharpening too quickly for McCoy to believe he had been sleeping that long.

He smiled against Bones' thumb and McCoy stared dazedly, dropping his hand casually, "You look like yourself, Bones."

He grunted, "Feel like myself, kid."

He didn't want to get up, but that nagging list kept up a running commentary in his brain and he desperately needed to pee. He rolled over Jim, stopping a second too long when their faces, nose to nose met. Breathing seemed to halt and Bones rolled his eyes at himself after he finished rolling out of bed. He was too awake to allow himself to act like that.

Jim said nothing as Bones disappeared into the bathroom and smiled to himself. If Bones thought he was going back to work today, he was sorely mistaken. It was Alpha shifts day off today and he was going to make sure Bones relaxed.

He stood and stretched languidly before heading to the replicator and punching in an order, hoping that Bones would forgive him for not getting him coffee. Jim narrowed his eyes as that anger surged back into his chest. Nope, Bones would have to deal without coffee until he could be trusted with it again.

The eggs, bacon and hash browns arrived, steaming and mouthwatering, which was ironic considering replicated food was known to be little better than cardboard in flavor, just as Bones stepped out of the bathroom.

"Breakfast, Bones!" He chirped, sweeping over to the table, arms loaded with plates. "Well, come on," Jim commanded as he set the table, noticing that the Doctor was standing in the doorway slack-jawed.

That seemed to have restarted his brain and he hurried to settle into his chair, digging in with a gusto usually reserved for real food.

"Jesus, Bones, hungry?" Jim chuckled, forking a fluffy egg and eyeing it with skepticism. His last eggs had tasted like something green and he was sure Spock had tinkered with the replicators.

"How long was I asleep?" He asked with an eye roll so powerful that it looked like he pulled something.

Jim winced, "Not long enough. About sixteen hours."

Bones nodded, "I woke up on my own, so my body is rested enough."

Ignoring the way Bones was inhaling his breakfast, Jim cleared his throat, "You aren't cleared to go back on duty yet."

The fork that had just stabbed another fluffy bit of egg halted its ascent to his mouth. He glared at his Captain, "I have things I need to do Jim. I can't just –," Jim cut him off with a cleverly thrown piece of bacon.

"Yes, you can. Chapel divided up some of the work that was left. Don't worry, she left you a nice chunk of it so you don't feel useless." Jim grabbed the fisted hand on the other side of the table, tugging it, "Breathe, Bones. It's not the end of the world to share the workload, there's a reason you have underlings."

McCoy shut his eyes and breathed, "You're right."

And he wondered when this thing between them had happened– changed, because it felt a lot different than all the other times at the Academy.

There had always been consoling and physicality between the two of them. His eyes dropped to his fisted hand and slowly let it the tension drain out of it, wondering what Kirk was going to do with that.

He shouldn't have been surprised when Jim's fingers threaded between his own.

"You're going to be overbearing, aren't you." McCoy drawled.

Jim beamed, "Course, how could I pass up an opportunity like this?"