browngirl

Title: Bonbon, with explosions.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG-13 at most.
Pairing: Captain Jim Kirk / Dr. Leonard 'Bones' McCoy
Summary: Title tells it, really.
Content Advisory: Shipfic, silliness, schmoop
Acknowledgements: This is another smidge of commentfic for

jim_and_bones for a photopost (as ever, visible only to members).
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
Author's Note: It's Big Bang season! So I'm posting little bonbons of commentfic while I [attempt to] work on longer, more serious tales.

Jim started planning what he'd say as soon as he pushed himself up off the ground. He's been rehearsing it the whole walk back. He draws in a breath before he reaches the shuttle, so he actually manages to get out, "It's not as bad as it looks --" before Bones lands on him in an angry whirlwind of healing.

"Lord Almighty, what happened to you?" Bones shouts over Jim's explanation, grabbing his head and staring into his eyes, one after the other. "Are you bleeding? Are you injured? Don't tell me you're fine."

"I'm fine," Jim says in unison, and Bones glances up from patting down his chest to tilt a quick glare at him. "It's not blood, I'm fine. When I touched those purple fruits they blew up and I fell out of the tree--"

"You fell?" Bones glares into Jim's eyes again, harder this time, then grabs a penlight and shines it, ow, into his left eye, then his right. "How far?"

"Fuck, it's not like I had a measuring tape, maybe a few meters, I'm fine, that -- eep --" as Bones squeeze-ruffles down his sides, checking his ribs, "that tickles!"

"There's probably a crater from your hard head." Bones lets up to shove the light back into his pocket, for maybe three heartbeats while Jim tries to get his shaking sides back under control. Then he grabs Jim's head again and kisses him this time, roughly and gracelessly and gorgeously. "Damn fool," he mutters warmly against Jim's mouth.

"Damn fool Captain," Jim says, because he can, curling his fingers around Bones's wrists, smiling into those jade-and-amber eyes as Bones's breath brushes his face. "Come on, there's a stream maybe 200 meters back, and I could wash this stuff off."

Bones regards Jim with crinkle-foreheaded intensity for a moment, pink tongue peeking over his lip, and Jim gleefully hopes for licking to commence until Bones snaps, "If there's nothing poisonous wiggling along the bottom or suspended in the water." He lets go of Jim to pull out his tricorder the way a lesser man might unholster a phaser. "Maybe on the way we can find some dessert that doesn't explode."