Not Taking a Nap

Or: the three times Jim caught Bones napping, despite his protests that he never does.

Jim leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Bones wasn't dead, though that had been Jim's immediate reaction. He was just sleeping, weirdly enough. He was…napping. Bones didn't nap. Napping was half-ass sleeping and Bones never did anything by halves; all or nothing, angry or indifferent, twinkling-eyed happy or entirely unconcerned. It was how he rolled. Napping was just so entirely unprecedented; of course Jim assumed Bones was dead when he saw him facedown at a cafeteria table.

His scrubs were also covered in blood, which probably hadn't helped either.

It was only after a minor heart attack that Jim had noticed the blood was actually purple. It was anyone's guess what it actually was, so that was fun. It was 4:30, the cafeteria was deserted, and Bones was napping.

What an odd day.

Jim titled his head and smiled as he stared at Bones.

"Captain?"

Jim sat up straight, dropping the smile instantly. Captains didn't stare fondly at sleeping CMOs. He cleared his throat.

"Ah, Scotty," he said, looking up to see the man standing a few feet away, eyeing the pair of them suspiciously. "Uh, this is…"

He looked back to Bones before shrugging.

"…exactly what it looks like," he finished.

Scotty looked even more confused

"He's fine," Jim assured him. "I called down to the Medbay to see if they were missing him. One of the nurses told me I should probably just let him sleep. Apparently, Lieutenant Sing's surgery went on for a few hours."

"Oh. Is she alright now?" Scotty whispered.

Jim nodded.

"She's in recovery now, should be back on her feet in a couple days. Oh and you don't have to whisper. I yelled his name earlier and he didn't even twitch. He's completely out."

Scotty landmine tiptoed over to the table before gently pulling out the chair next to Jim.

"How long have you been sitting here?" he still whispered.

Jim checked the chronometer on the wall.

"About twenty minutes," he shrugged. "I felt bad just leaving him."

"Is that blood?"

"Good question," Jim said simply. "I'll let you know."

Scotty nodded weakly.

"Did you need something?" Jim asked.

Scotty shook his head. "I did. But I can't remember what it was."

"Oh."

They both went back to watching Bones in silence, listening to him snore quietly.

"What are you guys doing?"

Jim and Scotty both jumped at the voice behind them. Uhura was there with her arms crossed, looking unsettled. Jim rolled his eyes.

"Like this is the most ridiculous thing you've ever walked in on me doing."

Uhura just continued to stare so Jim thought he'd better explain.

"I found him like this and felt weird leaving him here," he admitted.

Uhura only made a restrained, vaguely assenting noise in the back of her throat before handing him a PADD.

"I need you to sign this," she said. "Also, dinner starts in five minutes. You should probably wake him up."

Jim quickly added his signature to the files and she stepped away. Scotty stood up as soon as she was out the door.

"I got to get back to work. Captain," he tipped his head towards Jim and followed Uhura.

Jim turned back to napping Bones.

"Bones?"

He poked him in the shoulder.

"Bones. You gotta wake up."

Bones only jumped a little at the yell. He lifted his head and frowned around the room. He blinked heavily before focusing on Jim.

"Were you watching me sleep?"

"Why is everyone making it seem so weird?" Jim threw up his arms.

Bones rubbed a hand against his eye.

"It's a little weird, Jim," he yawned. Jim watched his eyes start to slip shut again.

"Hey!" Jim snapped his fingers. "Don't do that. Stay with me."

Bones jerked awake again.

"I'm up," he said. He shook his head a few times. "What time is it?"

"Almost 1700."

Bones nodded like he wasn't actually listening.

"Sounds good," he said, confirming it. He yawned again.

"How long was Sing's surgery?"

"Four hours," Bones shrugged. "Five hours. I don't remember. In fact, I'm not even sure m'not still dreamin."

He squinted at Jim.

"Are you real?"

"I'm real, Bones," Jim laughed. "I promise."

"That's exactly what a hallucination would say."

"Fair enough."

Bones stared him suspiciously for another second before apparently letting it slide.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 1700," Jim repeated patiently.

"Were you watching me sleep?"

Jim sighed.

"This is why you don't nap. I get it now."

Bones seemed to wake up at that. He glared at Jim.

"I don't nap!"

"You just—okay. Yep. You're right. You don't nap."

"Damn right," Bones mumbled, pushing his chair back. "I should probably actually go do my job now."

Except he looked entirely too out of it for Jim to allow him to practice medicine.

"No way," Jim said, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. "I already got the nurses to cover. You're going to bed."

"But—"

"No."

"I need to—"

"Nope."

"Jim! I really—"

"Leonard."

Bones threw up his hands.

"Alright! I get it. Jesus, you are annoying," he grumbled. "You gonna tuck me in too?"

Jim shrugged.

"Only if you ask nicely."

Bones rolled his eyes.

/

Bones was missing.

And Jim wasn't worried.

Well, he was. But no one was there to witness it and he wasn't telling.

As soon as he walked into Bones' quarters and found them devoid of their sickly occupant, he'd very calmly began to freak out. Bones hadn't left the room in three days. Jim knew this because Bones had made sure to mumble the exact duration of his confinement cryptically under his breath whenever Jim came to visit. He also knew this because Christine and Toll had entrusted him to make sure Bones didn't attempt breakout; which was actually a fucking terrible thing to put Jim in charge of when you thought about it. He was a Starfleet Captain, sure. He was a commanding, dynamic leader in all the ways that count. But, God help him, Bones was the exception. Specifically, the stupidly endearing freckles Bones had across his nose were his weakness. They were…ugh. Just ugh. He never stood a chance against them. They zapped all of Jim's good sense and willpower and he knew he'd never develop immunity to them. If Jim hadn't known better, he'd think Bones had done it on purpose. Just to fuck with him.

Oh that would be so like him.

Jim made a mental note to be angry at him as soon as he finished being terrified.

"Computer, locate Dr. McCoy."

The terminal he'd stopped at went completely black for a second before showing the layout of the entire ship. Jim scanned it before locating the annoyingly helpful red dot in one of the rec rooms.

"Dammit, Bones," Jim growled, turning on his heel and stalking towards the rec room.

Bones didn't like being cooped up. Jim got that. Of course Jim got that. Bones hated doing things, but he hated being told he wasn't allowed to do things even more; he loved rules, but only when they applied to Jim; he hated the rec room when he was healthy, but when he wasn't supposed to be in there, he apparently now couldn't be without it. He was one incongruity after another and it made Jim very annoyed.

Cytherian Fever wasn't a joke. Bones had only been released from constant Medbay supervision after he could finally hold down solid food (watery broth and unsalted crackers weren't exactly what Jim would constitute as food but, hey, Bones hadn't thrown up on him in 4 whole days, so he wasn't going to say anything). He still slept 20 hours out of the day and didn't breathe in the conventionally correct way, so they were still concerned. Bones wasn't allowed to leave the room, let alone be up and walking around by himself. It was like he was trying to give Jim a heart attack or make him betray his aloof exterior to the rest of the crew. Well the joke was on Bones because Jim was off duty now. He didn't have to be aloof. He could do whatever he wanted, including drag Bones all the way through the ship and back into his quarters.

After Jim made sure he was okay, though.

He walked into the rec room to find it peacefully quiet. It was empty, apart from the group at the back table. Uhura and Chekov were glaring at each other across a glass chess set while Sulu stared at the board with a frown. He continued his direct, non-aloof, stride towards them.

"Hey, have you guys seen—"

He stopped short as they all wordlessly pointed to the couch in the corner.

"Oh."

Bones was passed out across it, a blanket tucked in around that didn't quiet reach his slippers. Jim could hear his nasally, demon-like breathing from here but it still didn't ruin the moment.

Jim smiled.

He sat down at the empty chair across from Sulu, tilting his head.

"He's okay, right?"

Chekov and Uhura went back to their game while Sulu nodded quickly.

"Chekov and I stopped by his room to see if he wanted to play a few games. He said yes, but only if we let him leave his room. We didn't really get it, but we came here anyways," he whispered.

Leave it to Bones to have fun just to spite Jim.

"And then…you…covered him in a blanket?" Jim asked skeptically. Sulu didn't look like a man who slept with a blanket. He had that fine-level of control that didn't allow for such luxuries.

"No, that was me," Uhura said, annoyed. She smirked. "I figured you'd be down here any minute and freak out if we left him without a blanket. God forbid."

"What do you—what does that—no! I would not have freaked out!" Jim whispered frantically. "I don't freak out. Bones' freckles aren't that important."

The other three shared a condescending look that was pure Bones and Jim was starting to get worried about how much time they spent with him. He looked back at Bones with a sigh. Uhura was totally right but that was beside the point. And that blanket did look warm.

"Do you want to play next game, Captain?" Chekov asked quietly, giving Jim that typical wide-eyed, hopeful look. One of the hardest parts of Jim's job as captain was those times he had to say no to that face. No, Chekov, we cannot put a Reserve Particle Field Injector into the ensign quarters. No, you're not getting a Transference Accelerator either. Or a Confinement Buffer. Stop filling out the request forms, you are backlogging the systems.

"I'd love to, Ensign," he smiled. It wasn't like he was staying simply so he could look after Bones. He was hanging out with his crew. While also looking after Bones.

Chekov beamed brightly, before moving another piece on the board and whispering "Checkmate!" to Uhura.

She swore loudly in a language none of them recognized and they all shushed her. Jim glanced anxiously over to Bones, who just pulled the blanket more securely around his shoulders and sighed. Jim quickly traded places with Uhura as Sulu took Chekov's seat.

Jim glanced amusedly across from him.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Sulu?" he asked. Sulu smirked.

"I think so, sir."

Jim was three moves away from beating his Helmsman when Bones suddenly coughed, startling himself awake and scaring the shit out of the other four. As soon as Jim saw that the coughing wasn't stopping, he was pushing his chair back and rushing over, helping Bones sit up and keeping an arm around him. Bones coughed wetly into his shoulder.

"That's gross, Bones."

Finally, he stopped with a tired sigh, turning his head to look up at Jim. He looked at him for a solid minute before his brain seemed to catch up.

"Jim?"

"Yeah," Jim smiled gently. "Are you okay?"

Bones' cheeks were bright, despite how pale he was. He processed Jim's question and, after a couple seconds, shook his head.

"You want to go back to your room?"

Bones nodded stiffly.

"Do you want to eat something first?"

A quick shake of his head.

"Okay," Jim said quietly, reaching around to help him stand up from the couch. "Let's go."

Jim looked up at the trio at the table and smiled apologetically.

"Rain check, Mr. Sulu."

"Of course, Captain," the lieutenant replied with a smile.

Jim nudged Bones with his elbow.

"You gonna say goodbye to them, Bone?"

Bones squinted at the table and raised a hand half-heartedly. They all waved back in unison. Jim smiled again before following Bones as he shuffled out the door with an unfocused stare at the floor. They walked in silence all the ways to Bones' quarters, Jim keeping a hand on Bones' elbow because (as they had been reminded several times the last week) if you didn't stay alert at all times when Bones was vertical, he'd pass out and be on the floor before you could even attempt to catch him. He still had Uhura's blanket on his back and it trailed pathetically behind him on the ground. Jim quietly entered the code for Bones' room and they walked inside.

Bones flopped on the bed without a pause, pulling that pile of blankets over top of him as well while Jim followed dutifully.

"You're an asshole, you know. You shouldn't have left the room."

"I know," Bones mumbled drunkenly. "I did it to be mean."

Jim found that both very annoying and incredibly endearing, something of course only Bones would manage. "Well it worked."

"Are you mad at me?"

Jim smiled as he sat at the edge of the bed.

"Yes," he lied. "Very. Do you want some water?"

"Yeah. There's a half-empty class on the desk," Bones mumbled, pulling the blankets up higher.

Jim walked across the room and picked up the boring, Starfleet-issued plastic cup.

"Don't you mean half-full?" Jim grinned excitedly.

"Get out."

/

Christine was having a shitty day.

Actually, everyone in Medbay was having a shitty day. Half the staff was down with the worst outbreak of Lavarine Christine had ever seen, the other half was working double shifts to pick up the extra slack, and Dr. McCoy was so composedly calm that it was really freaking her out. She watched him offer a reassuring smile to an ensign from Security and felt a shiver in her spine.

He'd been working nonstop for 46 hours. He should, by all formalities, be dead. He should be yelling and cursing and doing southern monologues for every patient that shuffled through the door. Instead, there he was. Being nice.

She should probably do something.

Christine watched him finish comforting another three patients before finally figuring it out. A complacent, calm Dr. McCoy meant that he probably had reached a new level of tired that transcended all personality programming. Every time he stopped walking, he leaned against something. It was very nearly subtle. It was like he was trying not to fall over. When he wasn't holding a PADD or handling hyposprays, his hands were rubbing his eyes like a child. A child with an impressive beard who looked like they hadn't showered in three days.

Finally, Dr. McCoy ambled (proper, commanding Dr. McCoy never ambled. Nor did he mosey, stroll, or promenade) over to her desk, rubbing at his eyes again trying to smile warmly at her.

She shook her head roughly.

"You're stressing me out," she told him before he could even sit down. "You're going to combust if you keep going like this."

The doctor merely shrugged, thus further proving her case for his insanity.

"What other choice do we have, Christine?" he sighed. "That damn virus is tearing through this ship and somebody has to do something."

"Yes, I understand that," Christine said patiently. "But that doesn't mean you have to fight every minute of the day."

McCoy looked at her with a frown.

"Go take a nap," she told him. "Seriously. Everything is slowing down, we haven't had a new patient come in all morning, and the only thing left is to let everybody sleep it off. So for the love of God, go to sleep."

She waited until she was sure he was about to shrug off her concern before she pulled out Plan B.

"I'm sure if I called the captain, he would gladly make it a direct order."

McCoy narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you dare," he said, but it lacked any real bite.

Christine only smiled sweetly and shrugged. "There you go."

"Alright, alright," McCoy muttered, waving a hand. "I'll be in bed 2. Wake me the moment anything happens, you hear? I mean, anything. Hangnails, hiccups, weird sneezes, whatever."

"Of course," Christine replied, already making plans to do literally nothing of the sort. But if it made him feel better, by all means.

McCoy nodded stiffly before shuffling off to the recently vacated bed in the corner. He took another (pleasant) look around the room before dropping weakly on top of the blankets. He pulled the pillow closer, sighed, and didn't move for two solid hours.

Christine was feeling pretty good about herself after that. She was fully confident in her ability to manage the Medbay, it wasn't even going to be difficult. She hadn't been lying when she'd said the only thing left was for everyone to sleep. Lavarine just made you tired. The worst symptom was that you occasionally lost bladder control; which, really, was just par for the course with their job. Bodily fluids didn't bother her when she was in school and they certainly didn't bother her in space.

She was checking on the vitals of Yeoman Marks when she saw Jim stride idly through the door. He passed her right by as he made a beeline to the closed door of Dr. McCoy's office. It was only when he opened the door and found the room empty that he turned back to frown at Christine.

"Bones is—?"

"Passed out drooling on Bed 2," Christine supplied airily. "And it is in your best interest to leave him alone."

Jim closed the door with a frown.

"Any idea when he'll wake up?" he asked. "I kinda needed to talk to him about…something."

"Jim," Christine set down her charts to level a firm glare at the captain. "That man is exhausted. He's ran himself ragged keeping this crew fixed. If I see you wake him up without just cause, I will ask Dr. McCoy if I can handle your next physical. And I assure you, I won't make them as fun as he does."

Jim looked…alarmed, to say the least.

"What does that mean?" he whispered.

Christine just raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Jim shook his head quickly.

"Okay, then," Christine said sweetly, gesturing towards the door. "Always nice to see you, Captain."

She watched his eyes shoot quickly over to Dr. McCoy's bed once again, before he headed out the door.

46 minutes later, however, he was running right back in. Christine looked up from her tea as he came running up to her.

"It's important now, I swear!"

She took another drink from nodding towards the bed, giving him the go-ahead to literally wake the sleeping bear.

Jim didn't hesitate to run over to the edge of Bed 2, closest to where Dr. McCoy had his face buried in the pillow. He crouched down and ran a hand along the sleeping man's back.

"Bones, wake up," he whispered. "We have a problem."

Christine set down her cup, trying not to make it look obvious she was scooting her chair slightly closer to the two to better hear.

"Hmmm?"

Dr. McCoy's voice was muffled by the pillow, but Christine could see him glaring up at Jim as best he could.

Jim sat back on his heels and looked up at McCoy sadly.

"Promise you won't hit me."

Dr. McCoy sat up quickly, his eyes wide.

"Jim, no."

"Promise you won't hit me," the captain repeated, avoiding looking at McCoy.

"Dammit," McCoy growled, throwing the blanket off in one move. "Dammit it all to hell, Jim."

"I didn't mean to!" Jim offered uselessly as the doctor pushed past him. McCoy waved an angry hand to shut him up.

"Chapel, get me a hypo full of Nesuren and Geutevoclin. And start a new patient chart for the captain," McCoy snapped as passed Christine, heading straight for his office. Christine set down her tea gently.

Dammit, Jim.

Of course the captain couldn't miss out on the outbreak. He hated being left out of anything. She got up quickly and grabbed the supplies from the medicine cupboard in the corner, feeling incredibly guilty and incredibly annoyed. She walked over to where Jim sat on the edge of bed 2, kicking his feet and looking uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you say anything when you were in here earlier?" she whispered, staring at him in disbelief. He shrugged as he watched her set out the hyposprays on the table.

"I wasn't sure I actually had it, then..." he stopped, looking away from her quickly. Christine took at a guess at what he wasn't saying.

"Then it started burning?" she asked. Jim nodded tightly.

"Unbelievable," Dr. McCoy muttered darkly, coming back around to glare at Jim. "Why the hell didn't you come down here to get the immunization?"

"I was going to, I swear, I just got busy," Jim said. McCoy snorted as he threw a gown at Jim.

"Put that on," he said. Jim looked at him in disbelief.

"Bones, I can't stay here. I need to get back to the Bridge," he whined.

"No you don't," Dr. McCoy said. "I already called Spock and informed him of your stupidity. You are out for at least the next two days."

"Bones!"

"I didn't do this, Jim," the doctor shrugged, a more natural look of disdain on his face. "This is all on you."

He stabbed Jim roughly in the neck with both hypos in quick succession.

"Ow."

"Cry me a river, darlin'," McCoy muttered darkly, slapping Jim's hand away from the injection. "Now get dressed."

McCoy pulled Christine by the elbow, leaving Jim to glare miserably after them.

"That man is an idiot," Dr. McCoy mumbled as soon as they got back to Christine's desk. He grabbed the PADD with Jim's chart on it and punched moodily at the controls. "And this is your fault."

His tone wasn't too serious, so Christine didn't take it personal.

"How do you figure?" she asked, growling right back at him.

"If you hadn't made me take a nap like I was some child, I would have seen him sooner."

Christine snorted.

"If I hadn't made you get some rest, Jim still would have gotten sick because he's an idiot who can't take care of himself," she said. "And then we would have been left even more short-handed when you inevitably collapsed from exhaustion because, contrary to what you seem to think, you aren't immune to being human."

"Whatever."

He rolled his eyes and looked over at Jim, who was struggling with the ties on the back of his gown and the corner of his mouth twitched.

He turned back to Christine and stared at her for a solid minute in contemplation before handing her back Jim's chart.

"Wake me up in a couple hours," he sighed, waiting for her nod before pulling one of the hardback chairs over to Jim's bed.

"Stop, stop, stop," he warned, slapping Jim's hands away from the strings he was fighting with. "Jesus, I can't leave you alone for two minutes, can I?"

Jim glared as McCoy tied the fabric together.

"There," he said. He propped his feet on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. "Now be quiet, I'm tryin' to sleep."

"Are you sleeping on the job, Dr. McCoy?" Jim narrowed his eyes, leaning back on the pillow.

"Shhh."

"You're a terrible CMO. I should report you to your captain."

McCoy snorted.

"In all honesty, sir, my captain is an idiot. Don't bother tellin' him anything. He'll just ignore it and get himself infected with Lavarine."

"Wow, you're right. What an ass."

"Mmmhmm," Dr. McCoy sighed.

Christine watched Jim smile at Dr. McCoy for another minute, before he pulled up the blanket and went to sleep.