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#dammit jim i'm a doctor

dalek-in-heels · 2 years

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i started trying to learn how to draw for the first time in like a decade lol and made this lil OFMD comic to entertain myself — pls enjoy & spot the Star Trek joke.

[Image description: A photograph of an amateurish inked comic-style drawing on paper of Jim, Roach, Oluwande, and Lucius from the show Our Flag Means Death. They're each wearing outfits reminiscent of their usual outfits on the show. (Mysteriously, none of them have feet, but it's not significant; the artist just didn't want to draw feet.)

The top left corner shows a box that says: "In Which Jim Consults Roach about Top Surgery..."

Jim's arms are crossed, and their dagger peeks out from behind their jacket at their waist, as their speech bubble says: "So, you're telling me that if you chop off my tits, you've got no clue how much healing time my chest will need before I can throw my dagger again?"

Roach, in his apron, wields a big chopping knife as his speech bubble says: "Dammit, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a seer."

Oluwande looks worried, hands behind his back, wearing his teal earring, as his speech bubble says: "Eh, I mean, aren't you more of a chef though..."

Lucius's fingers (including his wooden finger) are raised in air quotes as his speech bubble says: "Right, could we really call 'trying to chop off my finger' that one time 'being a doctor'?"]

#ofmd #ofmd fanart #jim jimenez #roach ofmd #oluwande boodhari #lucius spriggs #my art #dammit jim i'm a doctor

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uncheckedaggression · 3 months

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With Vulcans being as feline as they are, I'd love to see Bones having to give Spock a pill, because sometimes a hypospray just won't do.

Chapel has him wrapped in a towel, while Bones attempts to prise his jaws open.

Kirk's standing to one side, wringing his hands - "Honestly, he's not usually like this! Spock, be a good boy!"

#star trek #star trek tos #Spock #Bones #Kirk #Chapel #Dammit Jim I'm a doctor not a vet

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captainkirkscleavage · 2 years

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Jim, finding out what Bones did to pay for med school:

What he saw:

Spock, showing it to him:

Bones, knowing he's gonna be hearing about this every day for at least the next 5 years:

#star trek #jim kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #dammit jim #dammit spock #I'm a doctor not a [insert noun]

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barebcnes · 6 months

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@fallenregent asked: “ I feel like I’m a whore in spirit but not in practice. ” [Some meme I reblogged | always accepting]

McCoy almost chokes on his coffee, almost kills himself this way by pouring the burning hot liquid of life into his windpipe - which would have, in return, turned into a liquid of death instead by making him suffer through third-degree burns, ultimately causing him to succumb to his internal injuries. He knows that's how things would've went - simply because Leonard usually receives the bad end of luck, and he's just that sad idiot who's going to get the worst of what's offered.

Thankfully, though, he does not - he just almost chokes, as said, which means he's able to breathe out a few strong coughs before too much of his coffee can get down into the wrong hole. It's followed up by the doctor clearing his throat, blinking a few times, lifting both of his eyebrows as a somewhat incredulous - and quite skeptical - look stretches along his features, hazel eyes flicking over to the woman's form.

"---Congratulations, I suppose.", is what he says then, clearing his throat once again as he realizes how rough his own voice sounds. He takes another sip of his drink, then lets out a sigh with such intensity that it could very well move the Enterprise itself between worlds - no warp needed - before he puts the cup down onto his desk. "Or - my condolences, whichever you prefer, really. Feel free to choose one."

It's that kind of day today, huh? Leonard lifts his brows once more, a mixture of disbelief and resignation reflecting on his face as he pulls out his medical tricorder, getting everything set up so he can start to scan her, as he'd wanted to do from the very first minute.

"---So, I suppose you're not sufferin' from any STD's, then. Noted." Not that he'd wanted to know, but... well. Makes sense to add it to the medical report anyways.

#fallenregent #Verse; Main #(I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THIS I AM SO SORRY I SWEAR I AM SO SORRY-----)#Dammit Jim - I'm a Doctor not a QUEUE!

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jackgoodfellow · 2 years

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Fun, Fun, Fun in the Sun, Sun, Sun

[Image description: a digital illustration in shades of orange and blue, showing the character of Dave Lister from the TV show red dwarf as a middle-aged man, happily relaxing on the beach near the shoreline. He is buried up to his neck in sand, and the sand over his body has been clumsily shaped into a super buff masculine body with pink seashells for nipples. Lister's head, hands, toes, and part of one of his legs are visible above the sand. With one hand, he is drinking a mango juice cocktail with a silly straw, and with the other he is waving to someone off-screen. He is wearing a blue cap and he has white smears of sunscreen on his face.

Small white text on the side of the image reads quote "Jack D. Goodfellow, 2022"

The second image is a close up of the first one, showing Lister's warm smile as he drinks his juice.

End ID.]

#red dwarf #lister red dwarf #dave lister #fan art #fanart #image description #i fucked up several layers in the effort to make this man not neon orange #and i think. i was. mostly. sucessesful. i hope.#it's all that mango juice #turns you orange. probably. dammit jim I'm an artist not a doctor!#i like to imagine they find beaches to vacation on. maybe move in with some other lifeforms idk #give this man some fucking mango juice ffs #the promised land #back to earth #he is supposed to be middle-aged here #my art

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klein-klaus · 2 months

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Pic of me everything a reply has anything remotely medical in it

#dammit jim i'm a librarian not a doctor #tho i have the power to research it #ooc

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doyouwanttoseeabug · 6 months

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Star Trek crew but they're all different species hear me out:

Jim - Jim has to remain human. He's the humanist human around, and also there is infinite comedy in the idea of a bunch of other species making exhausted eye contact whenever he pulls his bullshit.

Spock remains Vulcan obviously.

I initially thought Tellarite Bones BUT I think Andorian Bones fits better. Adding an extra-spicy layer to his Thing with Spock if their grandparents were literally shooting at each other. Every time Jim is Extremely Jim, Bones pulls out the ushaan-tor with a Dammit Jim I'm a doctor not a duellist but DON'T TEMPT ME

Romulan Uhura. No listen, trust me on this. Escaping from the Romulan empire because her love of languages leads her to a love of other cultures and a fiercely anti-imperialist anti-hegemonic stance. Her poise and calm comes from a lifetime of lying to the Tal Shiar, who were aggressively trying to recruit her before she joined Starfleet. How did she become an expert in diplomacy? Well her favourite childhood hobby was not getting dissapeared by the state so the rest came naturally.

Klingon Rand was revealed to me in a dream.

SCOTTY is the Tellarite. Jim rings down to engineering all meek like "hello Scotty can you tell me why the "ship is about to explode" light is flashing" and Scotty's like your mother was a leper and your father was a clown. Yeah the engines are fucked.

Chekov is Orion for The Angst TM

I know I KNOW that the Federation hadn't made contact with the Cardassians in TOS but Cardassian Sulu. He's so nice and smiley and polite :) and he's just saying Captain that if you want anyone poisoned I might know a guy :) the guy is me, Captain :)

I really wanted a Ferengi on here but no one fits so. Ferengi Chapel I guess. She's actually incredibly nice and way more professional than Bones but occasionally there's a gleam in her eyes and you just know she's thinking Oh, if I wanted to, I could rip these suckers off.

#star trek #jim kirk #james t kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #nyota uhura #uhura #pavel chekov #sulu #hikaru sulu #janice rand #scotty #star trek tos

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captainsophiestark · 1 month

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Not A Doctor

Bones McCoy x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Trek

Summary: Bones' SO hurts themselves on an away mission and has to stitch themselves up as well as they can to buy time for a med evac to the Enterprise

Word Count: 1,533

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Shit," I hissed, pressing a hand to my side as I slid down the wall. When I finally got up the courage to pull my hand back and look, it came away with a lot more blood than I'd hoped to find. I'd fallen pretty far and managed to avoid any broken bones based on my pain levels, but the wound in my side was gaping and looked concerningly serious.

I could practically hear the extended bridge crew chorusing "I told you so" from here.

As if on cue, my communicator beeped. I grimaced, but managed to take it out of my bag and open it to respond.

"What's up?" I groaned.

"Y/N, where are you?" came the voice of Jim Kirk, one of my best friends and the captain of the Enterprise. "Scotty's reporting he can only find two targets to beam up."

Dammit. That figured.

"I'm... not totally sure. I was trying to follow the signature on my tricorder to that plant I've been looking for when the ground just gave way under me. I'm not sure how far I fell, but I hit something pretty hard on the way down and I've got... quite the gash in my side."

Silence on the other end for a few moments, then:

"Hang tight. We're coming to find you."

The communicator hung up with a click, and I sighed, ignoring the flare of pain in my side. I had faith in Jim's determination and ability to find me, especially with Spock here helping him, but I still needed to do something if I wanted to be alive when they found me.

Thankfully, I'd watched my boyfriend, Doctor Leonard McCoy, stich people up often enough that I felt fairly confident I could do a passable job on myself. I dug some sewing supplies out of my bag that I hadn't removed from my last away mission misadventure, and pulled the hem of my shirt up to get a better look at the wound.

I grimaced, gritting my teeth and trying to prepare for this. I'd been so excited to join Kirk and Spock on this away mission. This planet was supposed to have one of the rarest plants in the galaxy, and I'd been looking forward to finding it since I'd first heard we'd be coming here. And now, I was at the bottom of this pit or cave or whatever, slowly bleeding out, without even a picture of the plant to show for it.

Ugh.

I tried to focus on my breathing as I threaded a needle and put it to my skin. I knew the wound needed to be disinfected before I totally closed it, but I didn't have anything on me to do that with, and I knew Bones would be able to take care of it for me if I could manage to get back to him.

I took a few deep breaths to steel myself, then stuck the needle through. I swore loudly and kept up a steady stream of expletives as I sewed up the wound. I pulled it closed as tightly as I dared, then held my jacket to my waist to try to staunch the remainder of the bleeding.

I sighed, long and hard, then leaned my head back against the wall of whatever hole I'd fallen into. I had no idea how long those stitches had taken me, but it certainly hadn't been quick. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much longer before I heard Jim and Spock stumbling down some passage towards me.

I focused on deep breaths as the pain continued to throb in my side, completely zoning out to the time and environment around me. Finally, I heard some shuffling movement from a slightly more gradual incline up ahead of me. The voices of my friends echoed out, curious and searching.

"Y/N!"

"I'm here!" I called back, my voice a little weaker than normal. I cleared my throat, then tried again. "Here!"

A moment later, my friends came into view. Jim grinned at me as Spock started scanning the space, probably trying to decide on the best way to get me out of here.

"How're you holding up?" asked Jim. I forced a smile.

"Living the dream."

He scoffed, then moved to crouch beside me and put one of my arms over his shoulder.

"Spock! Come help me."

"We'll need to get around the corner and most of the way back up the incline we came down to reach a spot where Mr. Scott can register us," said Spock as he joined us. "There seems to be some property of this rock that's prohibiting the transporter signal from reaching us."

"Great," I huffed, grimacing as my friends pulled me to my feet. Even resting most of my weight on them, I was still seeing spots. "This is gonna be great."

Between the three of us, somehow, we managed to get back into transporter range. I almost lost consciousness at one point, but we'd paused, and I'd managed to pull myself back from the brink. When the Enterprise's transporter room finally materialized before me, the relief was palpable, not least of all because Bones was waiting for me.

"Y/N," he said, jumping to attention and rushing onto the pad to replace Jim at my side. With Spock's help, we started moving immediately for the Med Bay. "What happened?"

"I was following the signature of the plant I was looking for on my tricorder. Then all of a sudden, the ground gave way underneath me. It wasn't a straight drop, I don't think, but I fell a pretty long way, bouncing off the rock slide and the walls of the cave I fell into on the way down. I'm bruised, but I don't think it's anything bad besides the cut on my stomach."

Bones nodded. "We'll get you to Med Bay and make sure."

Luckily, my boyfriend was very good at staying calm and focused in a crisis for his patients. He was completely in the zone as he and Spock helped me into a bed once we reached Med Bay, and then Bones started checking my vitals and assessing my injuries. I watched him carefully for any break in his usual bedside manner to tell me if I needed to be worried about something, but none came.

Hopefully that was a good sign, and not just because he was an incredible doctor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to me, Bones returned from his testing and reappeared by my bedside. His hands were on his hips, but he seemed calmer, and definitely out of intense doctor mode.

"Alright, the good news is you'll be just fine. But I'm still gonna need to disinfect the wound and stitch you up," he said. I gave him the best smile I could muster.

"Sounds like a plan."

He sighed, then gently lifted my shirt high enough to give him access to the gash in my side. The light touch of his fingertips sent goosebumps along my skin, but I did my best to ignore them, especially as Bones frowned.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" he asked, not looking away from his work on my side.

"Uh... I slammed into a rock. We covered this already, remember?"

"No, I didn't mean your injury." Bones paused and looked up at me, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. "I meant these stitches. Yikes."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, making Bones chuckle as he got back to work.

"Okay, whatever. I'm a biologist, not a doctor, dammit. I think I did a pretty good job, considering the circumstances."

"Mm, I guess so. Barely."

"Hey!" I laughed, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. "You better knock it off or I'm gonna start practicing my stitches on you."

Bones snorted, but I could see the smile on his face as he continued working. Thanks to the medical facilities of the Enterprise, it barely hurt as he undid my messy job and redid it with a much better one of his own.

"So... what are you doing after this?" I asked after a few long moments of letting him work in peace. He paused to look up at me again, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell me you're hitting on your own boyfriend after only the low-level painkillers I gave you?"

"I can and will hit on my own boyfriend whenever I want, no painkillers required. But I was mostly asking if you had other patients to deal with after me, or if you'd be free to come cuddle on the couch and eat junk food with me. I think it'd really help speed up my recovery process."

Bones' mouth quirked into a smile again as he put the finishing touches on my stitches.

"Well if it's for the wellness of a patient... I think Nurse Chapel might be willing to take over from me for the rest of the day."

"Thank goodness for Christine."

Bones and I shared a smile, then he returned to his work and I watched him contentedly. Obviously, life and death situations on away missions were never ideal—but I couldn't really bring myself to be upset about how this one had played out, even if I hadn't managed to get my plant in the end.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

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kazonandoff · 3 months

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I'm gonna need the Apothecary Dairies version of "Dammit, Jim, I'm doctor not a miracle worker". Because this happens all the time.

"Dammit, Jinshi, I'm an apothecary not a botanist!"

(Honestly she should have got a pay rise for those blue roses)

#the apothecary diaries #maomao #jinshi #jinmao #star trek #bones mccoy #jim kirk

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spirk-trek · 4 months

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I always love when spock has to ask mccoy to help him understand his feelings for jim

now on ao3!

i'm so sorry to this anon who waited so long for me to finish this prompt *cries* i have never written anything from mccoy's pov and wanted to challenge myself... and oh boy, was it a challenge. i feel like it turned out kind of (very) boring and maybe not so good but i tried my best with something new!

~*~*~*~

Spock had cultivated an arsenal of excuses to get himself into sick bay when he didn’t really need to be. Some were more convincing than others, but over the years Doctor McCoy had come to consider himself a damn near expert at identifying them. At least, he eventually identified them. Once he managed to stop being annoyed.

“What in the blazes- Spock! Get your hands off my equipment!”

“Doctor,” he greeted, raising a brow and pausing whatever the hell he was doing with several panels removed from the wall. McCoy stared at him, swelling with rage.

“I leave this room for one damn minute-!”

“Actually, you were absent for nine minutes, eighteen-”

“Dammit Spock,” McCoy gritted his teeth and begged whatever gods might be listening for strength. “ You have eighteen seconds to tell me what you’re doing before I tranquilize you.”

Spock’s mouth closed with a well-then expression, eyes widening just enough that McCoy might’ve felt accomplished if he didn’t have a six patient backup in the transporter room. He watched as Spock deposited the components onto an empty biobed- the only one remaining, mind you- and placed both arms behind his back to face the doctor squarely.

“I am here to calibrate your newly installed biofilters to include the latest blood-type data sets.”

McCoy blinked, then helplessly gestured to the chaos surrounding them. “I'm a little busy here, if you hadn't noticed. Can it wait?”

“Hardly.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. Two can play at that game.

“Medical equipment, eh? Since when are you our go-to guy for that?”

Both Vulcan brows eased their tension, rising to meet the dark curve of his bangs. “I am not. However, considering the fact you are currently treating Lieutenant Macsen, as an experienced science officer I am the most qualified individual to-”

McCoy groaned and uncrossed his arms to toss them at Spock impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, alright but-” he jabbed a finger at him. “But you're acting Captain now, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be on the bridge? ”

Spock’s eyes slipped away. It was only for a moment, but that was enough. Gotcha.

“The danger has passed,” Spock eventually answered, careful mask back in place. “I can be of assistance here.”

“You sure?” A smug grin was spreading over McCoy’s features. Spock tilted his head in consideration of him, likely knowing he was in trouble. Damn right. “So this ain’t just an excuse to check up on Jim, then?”

As if he had forgotten his excuse, Spock gathered several of the discarded components back in his hands, answering only once his back was turned. “I assure you, doctor, my only concern is the efficiency with which your facilities are capable of treating the biologically unique individuals awaiting care.” He paused, both his speech and his hands, which were simultaneously reconnecting a tangle of wires. His chin tipped back over his shoulder just enough for McCoy to see downcast eyes stuck to the floor. “It is a logical endeavor. There is no need to question it.”

McCoy set down his medical tricorder with a thud and glared at the back of Spock’s head. “Uh-huh,” he muttered, chewing the corner of his mouth. “Well, if you're not here to bother me, carry on with your ‘logical endeavor.’ Just make it snappy. I got patients to heal.”

He left the goddamned hole in his wall to do a lap around the med bay, asking after patient conditions and giving orders where needed. When he got back around to where he started, he was pleased to find the wall panels more or less back in place. He was even more pleased to catch Spock peering down the line of beds, even craning his neck to do so. Gotcha again.

He knew already, of course, which bed was the subject of Spock’s nosiness. Nurse Chapel was there, standing over an unconscious, battered, and idiotic (in McCoy's professional opinion) Captain James T. Kirk. The man looked downright pitiful with his uniform torn and bloodied, neck supported on either side by braces.

I’ll be damned if I’m gonna say anything. He wants to know? He’s gonna have to ask.

Spock never asked, though. He suffered in silence, like a damn ascetic. The doctor sighed, knowing already he didn’t have this particular fight in him. Not now. Not today.

“He’s gonna be alright, Spock. He’s had worse.”

At being addressed, Spock hastily resumed what appeared to be the last of his tinkering. McCoy watched him quietly, trying- unsuccessfully, as always- to read the unyielding Vulcan façade he so effortlessly constructed moment by moment.

“I acknowledge that the Captain's injuries are not likely to be fatal.”

“More n’ not likely. He’s gonna live, and he’s gonna thank me for it.”

Spock said nothing, simply pressing the final strip of wall back into place. He slid his hand over the seam to ensure there was no protrusion before ultimately turning around to face McCoy again.

“Once more, my concern lies with the efficiency of the ship's functions. The Captain's well-being is, logically, a crucial component of that efficiency. Is that not correct, doctor?”

McCoy scowled, not buying a damn word. He knew Spock wanted him to agree. To hand him his own excuse back on a silver platter. Not gonna happen.

“Well, if you were worried about him,” he cajoled, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you might have a point. He took quite the beating down there.”

Spock shifted, and another bolt of triumph shot through McCoy’s core.

“It has been my experience that the Captain possesses a remarkable ability to defy all odds.”

Leonard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sap.

“Still. Haven’t you people ever heard of hand phasers? They have a couple hundred meter range, you know, but no. You just have to get up close n’ personal.”

Spock’s gaze hardened. McCoy knew that meant his bluff had been called.

“Doctor. You have already indicated that the Captain’s injuries are not of long term concern. Are you rescinding that assessment?”

McCoy sighed, any remaining sense of accomplishment fleeing him. He was just about to damn his attempt at getting a proper rise out of Spock when he saw him turn a glance toward Jim’s vital signs, checking them. Not very Vulcan of you, he thought, even as a pang of pity won out over the desire to dig his thumbs in and yank.

“I, uh…” He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Listen, Spock. Since you’re here, I’ve been waiting what feels like a century to get my tricorders synced with the medical catalog we integrated from Nomalis III.” He looked at Spock pointedly before jerking his head in the direction of the storage cabinets. “Think you have time to get to them, too?”

He nodded once. “Certainly. I will assess their status presently.”

And if he noticed a stroke of gratitude in Spock’s immediate acceptance, he wasn’t about to claim responsibility for it.

* * * * *

Sometimes, the visits were shorter.

Leonard glanced up from his screen, raising a brow at Spock's unexpected presence on the other side of his automatic doors.

“Spock,” he greeted warily, one eyebrow raised. “You finally taking me up on that open nurse position?”

With a look he’d no doubt deny was annoyance, and a breath he’d definitely deny was a sigh, Spock placed his hands at the small of his back. “Negative, doctor. I require a medical examination for a minor injury sustained during our most recent expenditure.”

“You? Injured?” He set his PADD down and pushed it away, leaning over his desk toward the other. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is a minor contusion,” Spock explained promptly. “I deemed it necessary to ensure my optimal functionality.”

The Vulcan presented his hand between them, fingers outstretched, a thin line of green wrapping around the palm and over his first knuckle. With a frown, McCoy stood and gestured for Spock to take a seat on the nearest biobed, coming to stand beside him as he snapped on a pair of gloves. He pulled the marked hand into the light, turning it at different angles. It was half healed at best, shallow at worst.

“You know, Spock,” McCoy murmured as he looked, “I don’t tolerate malingering.”

“Proof of my injury is visible, doctor. Or did your medical training not prepare you for superficial wounds?

“Ha ha,” McCoy deadpanned, noticeably less gentle as he flipped the hand back over and dropped it. “It’s already started healing, so I can’t use a stitcher. A treatment bandage overnight should do it, with that Vulcan metabolism of yours.”

He busied himself with a nearby drawer, pulling the right type of bandage from its depths. Once he had Spock’s hand back in his, he cleared his throat and began wrapping it.

“You didn't come all the way down here for a papercut, did you?”

Steely blue eyes flashed upward, but Spock wasn’t looking down to meet them. McCoy rolled them instead, annoyance mounting.

“I discharged him twenty minutes ago, y'know.”

He refused to look up again when Spock’s posture went rigid, his fingers flexing unconsciously against his newly coiled bandage. To McCoy's shock, he didn’t even bother denying that’s what he was really after.

“The venom was of an unidentified variety.”

“I identified it.”

“And his symptoms? They were-”

“Severe, yes. Keyword there being were .” He smirked, but Spock was still looking straight ahead. It quickly curled into a frown. “I healed him. That's what doctors do.”

Spock said nothing in response, though a crease appeared between his brows as he watched McCoy seal his bandage with a whirr of instrumentation.

“Anyway,” he turned in his chair, wheeling to a shelf to pull out a bottle of pain capsules he knew Spock would refuse. “I confined him to quarters until morning, if that's what- hey!” The doors were swishing as he turned back around, and despite knowing he wouldn’t hear it, he still called after Spock bitterly.

“You’re welcome!”

* * * * *

Sometimes, the excuses weren’t really excuses at all.

“Doctor,” Spock greeted upon being let into McCoy's office. He blinked in surprise at the vision before him; Spock was pacing, hands clasped tightly behind his back, gaze down on the floor. He watched him take two trips from wall to wall before clearing his throat.

“Why yes, Spock?” he asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes to no effect.

“I have come to report increased stress levels, resulting in loss of sleep.”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. He placed his resequencer aside, immediately forgetting whatever he’d been doing with it. It’d still be there later, but this. This, he had to hear.

“Stress, Spock? That doesn’t sound like you one bit.”

“Stress is a natural reaction to disturbed mental equilibrium.”

“Would you please stand still?”

The Vulcan froze in his tacks, looking down at himself as if he hadn’t even realized he was in motion until that moment.

“That’s better. Now, what is going on with you?”

Spock, for a moment, looked explicitly uncomfortable. The lines of Leonard's face ironed out in shock. That level of transparency was, in Vulcan terms, something like an outright confession. He might as well be singing Shakespeare from rooftops.

“I’m waiting,” he eventually probed when Spock didn’t answer, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Spock shut his eyes. “Captain Kirk has recently… developed a closer association with a civilian on board.”

Oh. McCoy couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the pretty copper-haired thing he’d seen hanging off Jim’s arm that morning. And the morning before that. And the morning before that.

“Kaylia, right?”

“My concern ,” Spock continued as if McCoy hadn’t spoken, his eyes meeting some spot beyond them both, “stems from the potential risk such emotional entanglements pose to our current endeavor.”

McCoy’s smile curved into something dangerous.

“I see, I see… So, the Captain’s love life. That’s what’s stressing you out, is it?”

Spock’s jaw worked from side to side. “I fail to see the relevance of his personal relationships to my emotional state.”

And damn him, Leonard actually believed that. He leaned in, fixing Spock with an intense stare.

“Look, Spock. I'm a doctor, not a counselor, but I've seen the way you look at Jim.” He raised a hand when Spock opened his mouth, no doubt to deny it or try to explain the accusation away. “This ain’t just about the ship, or your current endeavor, or whatever the hell we’re calling it today.” When Spock didn’t answer, McCoy’s harshness receded slightly. He could feel it shrink within him, going from hot to cold in an instant.

“There's something more there,” he continued earnestly. They were well past it being a question. It was a damn fact as far as he was concerned, and he was sick and tired of pretending it wasn’t. “Way I see it is, you may be a Vulcan, you may have even fooled yourself, but you're not fooling anyone else.”

In the end, that got Spock’s attention. The dark eyes that swiveled down to meet his had a dangerous flicker to them. An ember he couldn’t help but stoke.

“I've known Jim a lot longer ‘n you have, and this? This ain’t about a single thing except you being jealous .”

Spock's mask wavered, another current of vulnerability passing over him like a spectre. When he finally broke his silence, he spoke with a voice that was measured and low.

“That is a highly illogical hypothesis, doctor. I am not capable of experiencing jealousy, and even if such were the case-”

“Oh, cut the crap, Spock. I've known you long enough, too. You've got feelings, and they're more n' just friendly when it comes to Jim.”

Spock raised a brow, the barest hint of a frown crossing his features.

“It is not… ‘crap.’”

“It is crap,” McCoy snapped, smacking an open palm against his desk. Spock stared at it stiffly. “Admit it, Spock! Seeing him with someone else is tearing you up inside." He narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a not-quite grin. Struck a nerve, did I? "How many days has it been since you slept, anyway? Have you gotten a wink since she walked onto this ship?”

“Your analysis is flawed," Spock spoke quickly, his speech pressured in a way the doctor hadn't heard before. "I am merely concerned with the Captain's ability to remain impartial. These matters often do not work out favorably.”

McCoy shook his head. “So, what? You’re worried she’ll break his heart?”

Spock didn’t react other than to pull his lips into a thin line.

“Ah, no. You're worried she won't.”

Spock was speaking again before McCoy had even finished accusing him, and if he had to give it a name he'd say he sounded downright irritated. Yeah, well, join the club.

“I am not governed by emotions. I am not worried, nor am I jealous-”

“Yes you are.”

“Furthermore, my feelings would be irrelevant regardless of-”

“Irrelevant my foot .”

A pause. “That doesn’t-”

“All’s I’m sayin’, Spock,” McCoy raised his hand and his voice to cut the other off, eyes screwing shut in his frustration. “You might want to face those feelings head-on before they gut you.”

They held each other's gaze for a prolonged moment, McCoy’s silent office beginning to feel heavier and darker than before.

“As you have already pointed out, doctor,” Spock spoke quietly now, the tide of irritation ebbing away. “You are not a counselor. I am here to seek a simple sleep aid, if one is available.”

After several more seconds, Leonard finally broke their eye contact to slam a drawer open. He tossed the bottle of pills at Spock, who caught them with cat-like reflexes that annoyed him more than it should have. Spock held the bottle low and looked down at the capsules, watching them fall over each other as he twisted the bottle side to side. McCoy bit his tongue, waiting... and what’ll you know? It paid off for once.

“Suppose your hypothesis is correct,” the Vulcan eventually murmured without looking up. “What is the solution?”

McCoy blinked. “Spock.”

Only then did their eyes meet again. McCoy sighed.

“Emotions don’t have solutions. Alright?” A ripple of impatience pushed itself into a frown on Spock’s lips. “But,” he continued, “they do have causes. Usually, anyway. Is that- Does that make any kinda sense to you?” Spock nodded once, straightening his spine. McCoy considered for a moment, his lips pursed. “Jealousy, for example, is usually caused by…” He leveled a careful look at the other man. “Well, I don’t have to tell you. It’s biblical.” Seeing the bewildered expression beginning to take shape, he rushed to clarify. “A tale as old as time. You want to be in her place.”

Spock averted his gaze again, then shook his head once. “I do not.”

“I don’t mean you want to be a diplomat, or a pretty redhead, or on the mind of every man aboard this ship.” He let out a short huff of breath. “Just the one man, right? And he’s currently off on some observation deck somewhere…” McCoy trailed off when he noticed Spock’s hands flex around the bottle, taking a moment to send some irritated thoughts Jim's way. Blind, stupid idiot.

“Am I getting anything right, here?”

Spock rolled his shoulders. “This is… not my area of expertise.”

“I know,” he said in a way he hoped was kind. He meant it to be kind, anyway. “Like I said, there ain’t a solution to feelings, but... In this situation, there are a few outcomes. And outcomes are sorta like solutions, right?”

Spock opened his mouth as if to disagree, then shut it again and gave a curt nod.

“Right. Okay. So,” he held one hand up as a visual representation, “one outcome is, you keep doing what you’ve been doing. Hope it goes away, hope each beautiful woman that comes along never stays too long. Hope you can keep ignoring it forever, and hell, sometimes that’s what it takes.” He took a deep breath, allowing his lungs to fully empty again before pressing on. “Sometimes, though,” he raised his other hand, looked at it as if he was actually holding something suspended in the air, “it never goes away. It just becomes… different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse.”

He fixed Spock with a severe look before dropping both hands back to his desk.

“And since you can’t know, there’s no way to know- well, that’s why us humans decide to do something about it to find out.”

Spock remained perfectly still until he swallowed, throat bobbing with what looked like effort.

“‘Something’ is vague terminology,” he pointed out, deadpan. “Clarify.”

McCoy flipped his restless hands skyward. “Well, we talk. Ask questions we don’t know the answer to.” A gradual smile broke across his lips. “Kiss each other, maybe, if the moment’s right.”

Spock looked more uncomfortable than McCoy had ever seen him, but he couldn’t even enjoy the blotches of subtle green that bloomed over both cheeks because of the pit of worry weighing down his stomach. Damn.

“You are saying," Spock began to summarize slowly, "that my options are to continue attempting to suppress my emotions… or to inform Jim of them.” The green in his face darkened as McCoy nodded. “I admit, I do not favor either prospect.”

The doctor chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Yeah. One of the scariest things in the world, tellin’ someone who’s important to you that…” He looked Spock up and down. “Well. That they’re important.”

The Vulcan remained silent, finally opening the pill bottle and rolling two tan colored capsules into his palm before looking up at McCoy again.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said simply, and the words held a tightness to them so poignant McCoy couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he watched Spock take his leave.

The next time he or Jim tried walking into his office to worry about the other one, he was gonna lock them in a conference room somewhere, even if it meant crashing the whole damn ship. And he was gonna demand a drink first.

#idk this got sad for NO reason????#i do not ship spones but something happened while i was writing this and i feel like it's there #if you squint #spirk #fanfic #request #prompts #my writing #dr mccoy #bones #spock #jim kirk #captain kirk #bones pov #fanfiction

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imsoglitter · 7 months

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Dammit Jim! I'm a doctor not your third! Please stop making me watch

#bones mccoy #spirk

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captainkirkscleavage · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY @spaghetti-trek !!! Enjoy this pic of Bones and Jim with a cake they made ("dammit Jim, I'm a doctor not a baker!") drawn by @lousysharkbutt on patreon for my 30th last year 🥰

#star trek fanart #dammit Jim #I'm a doctor not a [insert noun]#jim kirk #leonard mccoy

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holodeck-enthusiast · 2 months

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The Night After

...

*after the episode "All Our Yesterdays"*

...

That night, for obvious reasons, Bones found it hard to sleep. Only 3 earth hours left to the beginning of the alpha shift. Bones had already taken a dose of melatonin and it's not working. He refused to fight the thoughts, and was thinking about that another extreme stressful day three of them have had. He embraced the physical and mental pain, something he's actually very good at.

...

Comm chimed, breaking the monotonous humming of the ship's environmental sound.

"Doctor, please accept my apologies for contacting you at this hour. I assume that you were asleep...and this not an emergency...I just.."

Bones noticed the prominent hesitation in Spock's voice. He almost never hesitates. What's got into him again?

"What is it Spock? You feeling unwell?"

"May I come your cabin, Doctor? I need to say something to you and it shouldn't take long"

Bones smiles. "Literally anytime you wish, Spock, you poi.."

He stopped and closed his eyes.

"Yes, of course!".

...

Bones sat up on his bed and commanded the room computer to put on a light. His room is next to Spock's. It took around 45 seconds till Spock came in.

"What is it Spock"

Spock came closer to Bones's bed. Took a small pause before standing straight with his arms behind.

"Doctor, I came here to formally apologise to you for my behaviours in the cave yesterday."

Bones let out a sigh of relief. He was genuinely concerned of it's a healthy emergency; Spock's assurance usually means nothing when his own health is concerned.

"You were clearly affected Spock! You weren't yourself"- Bones smiled.

"You were severaly unwell" Spock continued "I used extreme physical force TWICE, especially when, in reality, you were helping me..."

Bones definitely hadn't needed this apology, but he realised Spock needed to let it out. He didn't interrupt.

"... Although my psyche went back in time, which apparently I had no control over, I should have known best to adapt to the situation. I am ashamed that I failed to do that, and I thank you for taking the responsibility."

"Thank you, Spock. But then you should also recall that it is probably because of you I am alive right now..."

Spock maintained eye contact in silence.

"...see, Spock...it is not news to both of us that these strange new worlds always do strange new things to our minds. That's the part of it. I was never eager to join this mission and now I'm in it for this long..my life is here!.."

Bones stopped for a moment and stood up from his bed. He walked to Spock and stood face to face.

"Plus I do think I deserved a slap back there!" He laughed. "I always call you names. Never realised it could've affected you that much. This human characteristic is very, you know, common among friends. I forget the fact that you do not realise how close and unhinged I feel around Jim and you."

"You always are unhinged around everybody, doctor" Spock let out a microscopic smile.

Bones laughed finally. "Go to your bed, you..." Again he closed his mouth. He'd need to practice for god's sake!

"..pointy-eared Vulcan?... probably I do not like it because that's actually incorrect."

Bones went back to his bed tiredly. "How come?"

"Firstly, to my great sorrow, I am only a half-vulcan; secondly and most importantly, my ears have prominent curvatures here, it's not technically a 'point'."

Bones yelled "Dammit Spock! Just go to you cabin and let me die in peace for...what...2 and a half hours!"

"Good night, doctor.' Spock let out another microscopic smile and left the cabin.

...

Both of them slept like babies afterwards.