Chapter Text
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“You have to do what?” a vein in the CMO’s temple pulsated.
“C’mon, Bones. It’ll be fun.”
“Are you out of your corn fed mind?”
“Actually no, and wrestling in the mud is a common pastime in Iowa.”
“Jim, that guy has like ninety kilos on you!” McCoy threw an exasperated hand at the rather large figure on the other side of the amphitheater.
“And?”
“He’ll beat the ever lovin’ shit outta you.”
“Wow, Bones. Great pep talk there.”
“Jim, seriously. There’s no other way?”
“Well you don’t have to stay and watch if you don’t want to. Besides this is one of the less weird requests we’ve had to close a treaty.”
McCoy wanted to strangle the captain and wipe the amused smirk off his face.
“Might as well watch so I know what I have to fix,” the doctor grumbled.
“Always the optimist, Bones. I gotta go get ready,” Jim slapped his fuming CMO on the back before making a hasty retreat to the changing tent set up for him.
“Leonard…” Uhura was instantly at McCoy’s side with her trademark judgemental look.
“What? You’re not the one who’s gonna have to patch that idiot up.”
“And can anything really serious actually happen to him?”
“It’s Jim Kirk, of course it can.”
“He’s actually excited about this one, just let him enjoy it.”
McCoy’s grumble was silenced when Uhura grabbed his arm and drug him to the rows where the rest of the crew was sitting. A large contingent of crewmen had taken the opportunity to accept the hospitality the Gauche had extended and had beamed down to partake in the festival being held in honor of their acceptance into the Federation. The Gauche weren’t that different from many of the other humanoids they’d dealt with other than the burnt red skin all of them seemed to have.
“Want some?” Chekov offered a stick of something charred and sticky to the doctor when he took the open seat next to him.
“Do I want food poisoning? No, thanks.”
“Leonard,” Uhura issued a sharp warning after seeing Chekov’s smile deflate.
“No Spock?”
“Oh he’s down there with Kirk.”
McCoy followed Uhura’s pointed finger to the open flap of the adorned tent Jim had been seen prancing into.
“He’s the second in command so he’ll be Kirk’s second in the fight.”
Exotic horns blared and the already raucous crowd cheered even louder. The Premier for the Gauche entered a viewing box with a prime view of the floor with her cabinet ministers.
“Welcome to the final celebration to solidify our new place among the Federation.”
The crowd went wild and the officials took their seats. A horn blared again and the two champions were escorted to the mud pit in the center of the ampitheater’s stage. McCoy did have to admit Jim looked positively radiant as he sauntered barefoot and shirtless to a side of the pit that had a bench. Spock looking unamused as usual was only a few steps behind him. The towering figure of the Gauche champion and his second arrived at their own bench on the opposite site.
McCoy watched Jim beam like a kid in a candy store as he slapped Spock on the back before he stepped onto the thick layer of mud.
“Someone better have a hose ready at the transporter room.”
“Is your sugar low?” Uhura held out a ball of spun honey from a native bee-like insect.
The doctor did have to admit the snack was pretty good albeit messy.
The Enterprise crew stood loudly and cheered hard when their captain bowed and took his stance. The Gauche fighter bowed and took his stance. The blare of the horn to start the match could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd. McCoy only knew the match started because the two fighters started to circle each other.
“How many rounds?” McCoy watched the two opponents match their steps to one another.
“Four rounds of six minutes each.”
McCoy agreed that it seemed like too short a time for Jim to suffer any serious damage. Of course that thought lasted only until the large Gauche fighter made the first strike and easily sent Jim sliding on his back into the mud. The captain popped up quickly with a big smile plastered to his face.
“Oh boy,” McCoy grumbled as the two fighters began circling each other again.
Jim’s eyes were zeroed in on the looming figure just outside of his striking distance. He kept his hands up to guard his face and was light on his toes as he bounced to keep up with his opponent’s movement. A massive fist came hurtling towards his head and he ducked with ease. Jim knew he needed to use his smaller stature to his advantage. While the Guache champion certainly had sheer strength on his side, the few movements he’d made revealed that he moved clunkily like a tank. He watched the fist clench and instinctively dropped his chin and prepared to duck an oncoming strike.
The captain failed to see the Gauche fighter shift his weight ever so slightly to deliver a swift kick to the side of his head. McCoy was on his feet as Jim’s head whipped around from the impact and was sent sprawling into the mud. Uhura grabbed the doctor’s sleeve and pulled him back down. The crew roared when Jim stood back up and dabbed at a bleeding wound above his eyebrow. McCoy could’ve sworn Jim was actually enjoying this.
The large mass made his move to strike Jim again but he was ready and sent the palm of his hand upward with a sharp blow under the Gauche’s chin. The alien stumbled backward and Jim dropped to swing his foot out and knock his feet from under the stumbling figure. Jim had lined up for another strike when the horn blared to signal the end of the round. The referee of the fight pointed to the Gauche champion and a red pennant was raised at the side of the mud pit he retreated to for the rest period.
“So?”
“The point went to the Gauche. He had two strikes to Kirk’s one.”
“I see,” McCoy watched Jim’s movement critically to see if anything was injured.
Jim took a big gulp from a water canteen and slapped Spock, dirtying his blue tunic, on the arm before the period ended and the two fighters resumed their stance in the center of the mud. The Gauche took no time sending his foot Jim’s way after the horn blared. The captain easily caught the leg and twisted his body while holding on to the limb. His opponent easily lost his balance and fell to the mud with a large splat. What Jim didn’t see was the other leg twisting around and knocking him face first into the mud next to the alien. The crowd roared with frenzy.
“Damn fool,” McCoy continued to stare as the pair grappled with each other. “Like watching a bunch of pigs roll around.”
Uhura stood up and whooped when her captain managed to reverse the hold he was in and get the pin on the Gauche, “He’s doing fine, Leonard.”
The round passed quickly and the match was awarded to Jim. McCoy could tell this time that the constant grappling during the round sapped a lot of his energy. The nod Jim gave to Spock was definitely slower. The doctor was sure this was the part where Jim would be used to wipe the floor. He was proven wrong as Jim sprang onto the Gauche a nanosecond after the horn finished signalling the start of the third round. Jim landed a solid and forceful punch to the side of his opponent's head. It knocked him off balance enough that Jim was able to grab the alien’s head and bring it down onto his knee. The Enterprise crew was absolutely going nuts. Everyone was on their feet hooting and hollering for their captain.
McCoy saw that something had changed in Jim’s blue eyes. It was almost as if an animal had been unleashed and Jim was sending parry after parry towards his opponent. Jim had his hand on the back of the Gauche’s neck when a beefy fist was sent straight into his arm. The captain grimaced but used his feet to tip the huge figure to his back in the mud. Jim dropped to the ground with a fierce determination and grappled with the champion until the horn blared and broke him out of his trance.
The Enterprise crew roared again as the point was awarded to Jim. It was two-to-one in Jim’s favor.
“Well, I’ll be damned. He might actually win.”
“You know, for someone who blindly followed an arrogant cadet into a disaster in space, you sure don’t have a lot of faith in him.”
McCoy threw up his hand and kept his eyes glued to the last round that had just begun. This round was an all out free for all. The Gauche didn’t want to lose by three to the tiny human and Jim wanted to dominate. Both attacked each other at the same time but it was Jim that was sent down to the mud. He quickly brought his opponent down with him. They grappled nearly the entire surface area of the mud pit. Neither opponent was holding back now by trading sharp punches between the pins and reversals. McCoy noticed that Jim’s style had gone from his well trained MMA style to dirty bar fighting.
The crowd couldn’t contain themselves as the two opponents traded blow after blow and kick after kick. The doctor would’ve sworn this was the longest six minutes of his entire life and that included that nebulous time between Jim’s body being brought to sickbay and McCoy watching the ice build up on the faceplate of his cryotube.
McCoy was shaken from his thoughts with the final blare of the horn. He refocused on the match and saw the two fighters slow to get to their feet. The point was given to the Gauche to conclude the match in a draw. In the endearing sense that made Jim one of the greatest men he knew, the captain had offered his hand to the Gauche champion. The alien laughed and pulled Jim into a hug that was probably going to break something. Jim’s smile was electric amid the mud covering his face. The Gauche clapped him on the back and nearly sent the human stumbling to the ground. Spock approached with a bottle of Saurian brandy while the other second approached with a wooden cask of some kind of local potable. The two fighters exchanged alcohol.
“Let’s hurry out of here before it gets too crowded to leave,” Uhura was already dragging McCoy away.
He tried to turn and check on Jim but he was already halfway through a tunnel that led to the area in front of the amphitheater.
“He’s fine, Spock’s with him,” Uhura answered before McCoy could protest. “Stop being such a mother hen.”
McCoy had to admit she was right, he could get down right hyper-focused where Jim’s health was concerned. Uhura dragged him over to the small congregation of crew that had a similar idea for a quick exit. Before McCoy could really grumble, the familiar tingling that signaled his atoms being dematerialized washed over him.
###
“Hey, boss. Captain’s here,” Chapel poked her head around the door frame of his office.
McCoy had tried to keep busy until Jim would slink back to the ship and sickbay, but had failed.
“Thanks, Chris. Let’s go see the damage.”
McCoy was not impressed with the figure absolutely caked in mud when he walked over to the biobed. The only visible features were Jim’s piercing blue eyes and bright smile.
“I don’t know why you’re so happy, you got the shit beat out of you. I’d say ‘I told you so’ if it’d do any good.”
“It was fun.”
“Well thanks for the mess all over my sickbay,” McCoy swept his hand wildly to point out the trail of muddy footprints coming from the doors.
McCoy tossed a towel in Jim’s lap, “Here, wipe some of that mud off so I can get a look at how bad it is.”
Jim made no effort to pick up the towel and kept his hands firmly planted in his lap.
“I don’t have all day, darlin’.”
Jim’s second refusal to move set the doctor’s hair on edge. A tricorder was whipped out before he could explain.
“I don’t see what—dammit, Jim,” McCoy scowled at the small display screen.
“I was about to tell you I think my arm is—“
“Broken and your metacarpals are fractured on the other hand?”
“You took the words out of my mouth.”
McCoy snatched the soiling towel and took it to Jim’s mud covered face and neck.
“Ow ow ow, shit, Bones. Take it easy.”
“I’m not pressing that hard,” McCoy removed a swath of mud from the side of Jim’s face. “Sorry,” the doctor softened his ministrations upon seeing the florid bruising that had blossomed and the leaking cut over Jim’s eye. He used the towel to clean off a patch of skin on the side of Jim’s neck. McCoy scowled when the towel was beyond further use but had barely made a dent in cleaning the captain. He paused to think about his options.
“I don’t need that,” Jim eyes the doctor as he loaded a vial into a hypo.
McCoy responded with a strike to the exposed skin.
“Shit,” Jim slapped the stinging injection site with his broken hand. “Double shit,” when the pain radiated from the aching digits.
“Can you stand?” McCoy dropped the towel and ran the tricorder over Jim’s dangling legs.
“Yeah, maybe a sprained ankle from sliding but nothing feels too bad.”
McCoy nodded and Jim slid off the biobed.
“Where are we going?” Jim flushed seeing the mess he’d made on the biobed.
“Shower. I don’t think I have enough towels to get this shit off you.”
Jim’s mud caked feet squelched loudly the length of the hallway that led to a small patient bathroom. McCoy deposited his charge on the closed lid of the commode and tabbed on the shower. Steam started to fill the small room after he switched it over to real water. Light plastic braces were snapped around each of Jim’s lower arms.
“Can you get your pants off?”
Jim held up his now useless hands, “At least I didn’t rip another shirt.”
McCoy pursed his lips, “Go ahead and get under the water to loosen up that mud while I go find scissors.”
The doctor retreated with a shake of his head as Jim slid the door open with an elbow to step under the spray. He couldn’t contain the groan when the hot water hit his aching muscles. The water treatment techs were going to murder him for all the filthy water he was sending into the pipes. He rested his head against the tile and closed his eyes.
“I’m the one who has to explain why you have a brain bleed from cracking your skull on the floor to Command if you slip and fall in there,” McCoy returned with a pair of scissors on top of a stack of towels.
The doctor pushed up his sleeves and pulled Jim to the edge of the stall. He ran the scissors down the side seam of the trousers from the waistband all the way down to the bottom hem. The captain was spun around to repeat the process for the other side. McCoy had to pull the sodden garment from Jim’s legs with more force than he wanted to admit. He tossed the ruined material to the corner of the stall.
“Lose the shorts,” McCoy scowled at the mud that had literally gotten everywhere.
“Buy me dinner?”
McCoy looked up unamused. Jim begrudgingly allowed the doctor to work a thumb under the band of his shorts and pull them down. He shimmed them the rest of the way off to join the ruined pants. The captain was suddenly shy as the doctor looked him over for any undiscovered injuries. McCoy was right, it probably wouldn’t end well if the doctor had to explain to Command that their captain had died naked as a jaybird in a shower in sickbay. McCoy didn’t seem to notice or care as he added soap to a washcloth. The actions were tender but detached as the man tried his best to scrub away the filth.
“Jesus H Christ, kid.”
Several washcloths were ruined in order to wash away the dirt that had caked itself onto Jim’s arms, chest, and back. There was going to be no salvaging the accumulated pile of dirty linens after they finished.
“I’ll be quick,” was the only warning the doctor gave before taking a soaped cloth to Jim’s groin.
Jim tried to find anything and everything else to think about as the doctor thoroughly washed away the mud from his front and backside. True to the doctor’s words, he was quick and the embarrassment over not being able to wash himself was fairly short lived. McCoy continued to work his way lower, and Jim obeyed wordlessly when he was instructed to put one foot at a time on the edge of the stall to be scrubbed clean as well.
“I’m gonna switch it over to sonics and then we’ll see about getting your hands taken care of now that I can actually see them.”
“Can you do my hair? I feel mud still caked in there.”
McCoy looked up and saw that not even the shower spray had been able to loosen the mud matted the blonde locks.
“Yeah, spin around,” McCoy held a hand under the shampoo dispenser on the back wall of the stall.
McCoy worked the shampoo into a lather and then set his finger tips deep into Jim’s scalp. The mud went all the way down to the roots. It was all Jim could do not to melt under the soothing touch.
“How did you get so much mud in your hair?” the doctor struggled to work his fingers through the mess.
It took three more applications of shampoo before McCoy tipped Jim’s head back under the spray. McCoy’s long fingers pressed deep into Jim’s scalp to work away the suds.
“No conditioner?” Jim felt McCoy’s fingers looking for any spots of mud or shampoo he missed.
“Dammit, Jim. I’m a doctor, not a hairdresser.”
Jim’s energy took an abrupt nose dive to the floor. McCoy watched Jim start to waver and immediately cut the shower short without running the sonics to clean him the rest of the way.
“Hey, stay with me, kid.”
“Not going anywhere, Bones,” Jim brought his head up after the water was suddenly turned off and the warm steam escaped.
“I’m too old for this,” McCoy grumbled as he pulled Jim from the stall and began drying him off with a towel.
McCoy was ever so careful dabbing away the moisture from Jim’s face and arms. There were only a couple of hisses when pressure was put on the fractured ribs or abrasions. The doctor was ever the professional as he finished toweling off Jim. Said captain was too tired to respond even if he wanted to. He even held a pair of sickbay pajama bottoms at the captain’s feet for him to step into.
“Everything all right, boss?” Chapel poked her head around the corner from her end of the hallway.
“Almost done here; I’m gonna need a few of the osteos. He’s got two ribs, an ulna, and three metacarpals,” McCoy tossed over his shoulder as he tightened the drawstring on the pants.
At this point Jim had to keep a light hand on McCoy to hold himself steady.
“Ready, kid?” McCoy took hold of Jim’s bicep.
Jim could only nod as he was carefully shuffled to a clean biobed. McCoy pushed him down to the thin mattress with no resistance.
“Did you give me something?”
McCoy chuckled, “No, darlin’. It’s what happens to humans when their adrenaline tanks.”
“Sit me up, Bones.”
The change in elevation did little to dispel the wave of exhaustion. Chapel appeared with the requested devices. Jim winced when his broken limbs were taken out of their braces to be positioned under the equipment.
“So did you win, Captain?” Chapel double checked the settings on the osteogenic stimulator over the broken ulna.
“Well—“
“Does it look like he won?” McCoy dabbed hard at the laceration above Jim’s eye.
“It was actually a tie,” Jim hissed.
“Says the man with a half dozen fractures.”
Jim reached up with his plastic encased arm and grabbed McCoy’s hand that was placing a dermal regenerator over the laceration. The nurse had experienced enough eruptions for one lifetime and quickly made a quiet excuse to leave them alone.
“What’s wrong, Bones?” Jim was now wide-eyed and alert.
“Nothing, Jim,” McCoy set Jim’s hand back down gently on the pillow that had been placed on his lap to hold the injured limbs.
“That look isn’t ‘nothing’,” Jim refused to let go of the fingers he held.
“Jim, now—”
“Bones, you better do it now because I know those trigger happy fingers are itching to sedate me.”
“Are not,” McCoy’s mouth twitched.
“Uh huh. You’re not usually shy about expressing your opinion so let’s have it.”
McCoy slipped a ligament regenerator over Jim’s ankle silently. Jim knew he was in deep shit with the doctor.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“Wasn’t gonna ask you to.”
“But you want one anyways. I know that look.”
“Don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth.”
The hole Jim was digging himself into grew deeper.
Time to seal his fate, “Well, did you enjoy the fight?”
Jim would’ve sworn McCoy turned bright red right before he exploded, “I fucking told you this would happen, but you did it anyways.”
Jim relaxed into the padding with relief that Mt Horatio finally erupted. The faster he could release the doctor’s anger, the faster the man usually rebounded and got over whatever he was angry at.
“Well let it out now,” Jim turned a deaf ear to the man that had begun to pace around the biobed and point wildly as he depressurized.
There was nothing new about the doctor’s anger and weirdly nothing but love behind it. Jim wasn’t going to stop being Captain Kirk and McCoy wasn’t going to ever stop worrying over him. This always simmered between the two of them, but sometimes a little steam needed to be vented off before they regained their balance.
Jim could tell the rant was almost over as the pacing had slowed and McCoy’s grip over the hypospray tightened. Sometimes it was easier just to take being sedated and let the doctor finish calming down at his own pace as he healed whatever Jim had managed to do to himself. The captain subconsciously opened the side of his neck in anticipation of the strike.
Without fail it came in all of its stinging glory. He gave the doctor a good hiss for show. Jim could feel that it wasn’t that heavy of a dose and McCoy would be back to his more pleasant self after this brief nap. Jim used the last of his fading energy to grab McCoy’s trembling hand.
“Be here when you wake up, darlin’.”
Jim gave the hand a weak squeeze before the drugs overpowered his brain.