Title: Dinner for Two
By: Jedi Princess Clarrisani
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Fandom: Star Trek
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I'd happily have them as a Christmas present, but currently not mine.
Notes: Huge thank you to my betas nikki4noo and 7ofeleven.
Summary: While on shore leave, Bones decides to cook.***
"GOD DAMMIT!"
Jim Kirk had to force down his amused laugh as he heard the crash that came with the curse, and looking up from the data he'd had Spock send down earlier he tried to envision the sight on the other side of the wall. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," came the curt reply, telling Jim that Leonard McCoy was anything but fine, but Jim knew Bones well enough to know that the other man would never admit it. "Just a slight problem, that's all."
"Right." Jim chewed his lip as his cheeks began to hurt from the grin on his face. "You sure you don't want any help."
"No!"
Jim sighed and shook his head, returning his attention to the notes. Spock had sent down a comprehensive yet to-the-point update on the repairs and upgrades to the Enterprise, as well as any other little notes Spock knew would interest Jim. There was a small note about Scotty finally being satisfied with the engines (for the time being), that Sulu and Chekov had requested extended leave, and a small side note that Uhura had purchased a new dress and formally requested a dance once they set off again.
Jim's eyebrows rose as he heard more swearing coming from the kitchen and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything. Bones had been in there for an hour now, and the last time Jim had gone in to see what was happening he'd ended up having to hightail out of there before a wooden spoon came into contact with his rear end, and not in a way he considered 'kinky' either.
The sound of glass breaking with an accompanying 'son-of-a-bitch' broke his resolve though. "Bones..."
"I said I'm fine!"
"Ah-ha." Jim drummed his fingertips on the arm of the chair and leaned back. "Look Bones, you don't have to-"
"Shut up!"
Jim's mouth snapped closed in an instant. He blinked, returning his gaze to his work. This had been Bones' idea, after all. On the way back from a long walk Bones had told Jim that he would cook dinner tonight and give Jim a break for once. Jim had been set to argue, but Bones had pointed out that every meal they'd had while on shore leave Jim had either cooked or they'd gone out and bought something pre-made.
"Anyway, I'm done." Bones looked around the corner into the den, Jim having resisted the urge to laugh again as he spotted something stuck to Bones' forehead. No doubt the other man had wiped his brow without realising he had food on his hands. "Come and eat it before it gets cold."
Jim set his work aside, pushing himself up and heading for the kitchen. He found himself again fighting laughter as he saw the state of the kitchen even as Bones hastily tried to clean up before Jim saw it. Sitting at the table Jim had to admire Bones' handywork. Lamb roast, done old country style by the look of it.
"No guaranteeing it's edible," Bones said, dropping into the chair across from Jim.
"Looks good," Jim said.
"I'd reserve judgement until you taste it."
"Okay then." Jim picked up his fork and cut off a slice of meat soaked in gravy, popping it into his mouth. The meat was slightly overcooked and the gravy was one of those pre-made ones, but it was still edible. He gave Bones a quick thumbs up as he finished chewing, smiling as he saw the tension ease from the other man's shoulders. He swallowed. "So what broke?"
"Huh?" Bones looked up from where he was prodding at a burnt bit on a roasted potato, a thin crease of a frown on his forehead. "Oh. Pickle jar."
Jim blinked. "Pickle jar?"
Bones shrugged. "Snacked while I was cooking and knocked it off the counter with my elbow."
"Ah. I see." Jim returned to his meal, making sure Bones wasn't watching as he gently pushed a couple of slightly charred vegetables off the edge and under his plate. He gestured down as Bones looked up. "This is really good."
"Oh stop humouring me." Bones scowled, glaring at his meal. "It's rubbish."
"Bones, rubbish is that 'everything-you-can-get-your-hands-on' sandwich Scotty made during the last presidential dinner."
Bones' eyes widened as he dropped his utensils and held up his hands. "So much for my appetite."
Jim laughed. "No really, the roast is good. But you didn't have to go all out like this. I'd have settled for some of your Southern Baked Beans."
Bones shook his head, sighing. "I should be able to do this."
"You're a doctor, not a cook," Jim said, winking at the bemused look Bones gave him. "You were never the cook, were you."
"Never had the time to cook anything this... involved." Bones leaned back in his chair. "If it takes less than five minutes, then it's not a problem..."
"You mean like that stir fry you whipped up that one time." Jim leaned across the table and gently wiped away the streak of food from Bones' brow. "It's the thought that counts."
Bones nodded, glancing down at his plate and pushing it away as Jim sat back. "Still feel like baked beans?"
"I'm pretty sure I saw a bottle of Tennessee Whiskey in the top right cupboard," Jim said.
"I should warn you, with the night I've been having, most of it won't end up in the beans."
Jim laughed, standing and following Bones to the kitchen. "Here, let me help you this time."
"You just want to make sure I don't burn it again and to steal some of the booze," Bones accused, opening the cupboard and retrieving the bottle.
"For starters," Jim said.
"What else is there?"
Jim grinned, slipping in front of Bones as he turned, catching his lips quickly with his own. "I want to be able to kiss the cook."
END***