A/N: Thanks so much for all the follows and favorites! The point was brought up that the ending of my last chapter was a little abrupt, sorry about that! This was originally going to be a one-shot, and I had started writing accordingly but then, well, my brain kind of threw up all over the paper and nine chapters later it's finally done! I will try to post the chapters quickly so that it doesn't get confusing! Also, I don't own these characters. Sadly. The only thing that belongs to me here are the mistakes, of which there are hopefully not very many! That's all, please, enjoy!
McCoy unlocked his door, managing not to spill his precarious pile of med books all over the floor. He shoved his way quickly through the door and deposited the stack onto the couch with a relieved sigh. He had pounded on the door but when it became apparent his roommate was either not at home or not willing to get up and open the door, he had maneuvered his stack of books onto his right knee, balancing it dangerously there while he dug around in his bag for his key card.
Even with all the racket he had created he was still met with the same brooding silence of his roommate and, grudgingly admitted, friend, since before he left for a last minute visit to the library. He was very stressed and had a lot of studying to do for several important tests coming up. Leonard knew medicine, at least, that's what he had thought, before he started all the courses required to be a certified Star Fleet medic. So now he was cramming and studying and juggling regular life all the while attempting to squeeze in time for a decent meal, but did his troubles matter any? No, not when the oh-so-amazing James Tiberius Kirk was having his own problems.
McCoy loved the kid to bits, he really did, but would it kill him to take a step off his high horse and realize he wasn't the only one with some issues? No it certainly would not.
But as Jim's friends Leonard knew that the kid wasn't as self-absorbed as most people believed, he just had a way of focusing on one single problem very intently. He often drowned out distractions from the outside world in a manner that seemed callous. As Jim's friend McCoy also knew the stubborn bastard could go days without eating, leaving the doctor to pick up the pieces and pull his sorry ass back together. And as the pattern seemed to be with all Kirk problems, it would most likely not resolve itself or disappear any time in the near future.
With a sigh of resigned defeat McCoy trudged into his friend's room and tossed the first item his fingers came into contact with at the prone form lying on the bed.
The previously disregarded shoe smacked into the target's leg with a dull thud, causing said target to snap out of wherever his head had taken him and fix McCoy with an annoyed yet questioning glare. "What?" His voice was weary and the tone suggested Jim very much did not want to discuss whatever was bothering him.
'To hell with that.' McCoy thought. He hadn't gone all the way in there to be rejected by a biting remark and an angered glare. "What the hell was shoved up your ass and can it be dislodged easily? Or should I prep you for surgery?"
A smile danced across Jim's pale lips but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing's been shoved up the ass. Promise."
McCoy awaited further explanation for the sulky mood but when one was not forth-coming he realized this was one of those issues that required a bit more poking and prodding before any critical information would be relinquished. "So what's the problem then?"
Jim shrugged, his gaze remaining fixated on the ceiling. "It's just a bullshit project for that stupid Political History class or whatever the hell it's called."
"That one of those required courses?"
"Yeah."
Depending on what one wanted to do after leaving Star Fleet Academy there were certain required classes they all had to take. Most of them were awful and a complete waste of time that could be better spent studying for a class that may actually come in handy when they left the academy.
"Tarsus IV?" McCoy's voice was soft, sad, not the voice that normally accompanied the doctor.
Jim's breath hitched in his throat, "What?"
"I wanted to know what had been putting you in a bad mood these last couple weeks so I flipped through your notes. Wasn't much there." The comment was small and just off-handed enough, Jim knew it was McCoy's subtle way of digging for more information.
"I learned most of it orally. I just took the notes so my stupid professor wouldn't get on my case about it."
McCoy nodded a couple times, eyebrows aching upwards in such a way Jim couldn't tell if the man believed his excuse or was just agreeing with what had been said. "You've just seemed pretty upset lately."
"Yeah well, it's not as if that topic would put me in a good mood." Jim snapped, immediately on the defensive.
After that cold front McCoy decided it was time to switch topics. Taking a few steps into the room, Leonard plopped into the empty desk chair a few feet to the left of Jim's bed. "So, what is this "bullshit project" you've been assigned?" McCoy attempted to make the conversation lighthearted but by the way Jim sat bolt upright and dug his fingernails into his shoe, which hadn't really moved from its resting place against Jim's leg since being used as a projectile weapon, McCoy could tell this was the heart of the problem. Whatever was truly bothering Jim so much had to do with the upcoming project.
"We're doing a debate." Was his simple yet forced reply.
"Uh-huh." Immediately McCoy's brain began searching for possible topics of debate to do with the Tarsus massacre. An informative presentation definitely, a what-if scenario attempting to prove that all the killing was absolutely unnecessary, maybe. But a debate? "What the hell are you guys arguing about?"
"Believe it or not, half the class will be proving the point that Kodos was an insane evil shit, while the other half has to make that shit look like a good person." Jim's hands flexed and twisted around the material of his shoe with such force his knuckles turned white.
McCoy didn't respond at first, blinking a few times in shock at the information he'd just received. But, no! He must have heard wrong; misunderstood what Jim meant because there was no way someone could support the Governor's actions on Tarsus, let alone argue their point in a debate. "You've gotta be joking." McCoy deadpanned.
"That's what I thought." A smile holding no joy captured Jim's angered features, "But Crusty Krestridge didn't really appreciate my laughing in the middle of class."
'Shit.' McCoy thought, his heart constricting painfully at how obvious Jim's discomfort with that topic was. 'No wonder he's been in a bad mood.'
The doctor didn't want to ask, and he could already guess what the reply was going to be but, well, he knew it was helping Jim to vent to his friend. "Any chance you're on the side arguing against the bastard?"
A strangled laugh escaped Jim's lips before he could stop it and he fixed McCoy with a look that clearly said: 'When have I ever been so lucky?'
McCoy sighed deeply and sank further into the computer chair, all thoughts of his upcoming exams completely forgotten at the moment. "Do you know what you're gonna say?"
"Well apparently, there is 'research' I can find that give very 'compelling arguments' if I look." Jim put air quotations around the exact words Krestridge had said to his class, his voice becoming more agitated with each point. "Evidently there are quite a few people out there who believe Kodos had 'justification' in what he did. Dammit Bones, an entire chapter learning about the awful things this man did and now half the class has to defend the son of a bitch!" A predatory growl tore its way out of Jim's throat as he threw his shoe at the wall opposite it. The sole smacked and bounced off the plaster with a satisfying thud but Jim barely paid it any mind as he flopped backwards and shot icy daggers at the ceiling, as if it were the cause of all his problems.
McCoy was at a loss as to what he should do. If it were a physical problem he'd administer a hypo and everything would be fine. Unfortunately he didn't have a hypo to cure the 'asshole professor syndrome'. He coughed awkwardly as he stood; Jim didn't even glance his direction. "Well if you want help with anything, ya know."
"Yeah."
With one more glance around Jim's haphazard room Leonard sidestepped the poor, abused shoe resting sadly against the carpeted floor before leaving, closing Jim's door softly behind him.
McCoy trudged into the duo's messy, shared living room and sank into a useless heap on the couch. He wished he could do more for the kid but talking had never really been a strong point for him. His ex-wife knew that well enough.
Without really processing any of the information, McCoy flipped through one of his various textbooks and watched as the hours ticked by.
Finally a time which McCoy considered suitable for supper rolled around. At last he had a reason to get up and do something, but not only that, he now had a legitimate excuse to check on Jim. The kid's room had been eerily silent since the end of their conversation earlier.
McCoy honestly didn't care what he ate for supper; he was just happy he could get up and use his hands. Their apartment, while usually littered with trash and the occasional beer bottle, wasn't inherently dirty. It had taken McCoy less than a half hour to clean up the discarded wrappers and wash the handful of dishes still in the sink.
Sorting through the various pots and pans the pair owned, McCoy pulled one out that suited the needs of some sort of pasta dish that had been in their pantry for what seemed like forever.
With efficiency rarely found anywhere outside the hospital, McCoy set the pan full of water on the already warm burner, and pulled out all the supplies the recipe called for. Supper would be ready in a matter of minutes.
"Jim." McCoy called, just loud enough that is was a believable shout but quiet enough that McCoy was certain his roommate would just ignore him.
Excuse firmly set in place the doctor wiped his hands on the dish towel and shuffled to his friend's bedroom for the second time that afternoon.
"Jim." McCoy knocked twice before turning the nob and pushing the door open a crack. Enough so he could clearly see into the room but Jim wouldn't realize the doctor was attempting to check up on him.
McCoy sighed softly when he saw Jim lying in the exact same position in which the doctor had left him. "Hey, dinner will be ready soon."
"I'm actually not very hungry."
"Are ya sure you don't wanna," McCoy searched for the right words but couldn't think of what to say, "Take a break?" He mentally did a face-palm. Honestly the stupid things that came out of his mouth sometimes.
As McCoy was mentally berating himself on his absolute lack of tact Jim sat up, blonde hair sticking up at odd angles in the back. "Nah, I can't. You know, got a lot of research to do. Compelling arguments to find."
McCoy's chest deflated entirely at the rejection, "Alright well, I'll just leave the leftovers in the fridge for you."
He turned to leave but Jim's soft voice called him back before the door had fully closed, "Bones?"
Jim waited for McCoy to stick his head back through the crack before a sad smile spread across his face. "Thank you."
McCoy just nodded before shutting the door and heading back to the kitchen. He classified that as a 'mission sort of accomplished' because while he had kind of helped a little it was glaringly obvious Jim was not okay. Still, he doubted the kid was thanking him for the container of noodles that would be waiting in the fridge for him later that night.