Summary: Five Times Leonard McCoy was Southern, and one time he was really Southern.
Fandom: Star Trek (2009)
Word Count: 1368
Rating/Warnings: R, extreme Southernity, misuse of the Hotty Toddy, much fluff
A/N: For st_xi_kink. Oh, my secret OTP that is not a secret, I wish I knew how to quit you. Also? dixie_chicken now owes me $20 (or maybe $10, because I think the original offer was $20 to write a story where McCoy screams the Hotty Toddy and then passes out).
1. bless his heart
It only came out when something was very wrong. On this particular occasion, it was most likely because Chekov, Uhura, and Riley were bleeding all over the floor.
Doctor McCoy leaned over his bed, backlit by the harsh lights of the operating theatre, his dark hair messy enough to catch and scatter the light, giving him the strangest halo. Pavel wanted to touch it, but his arm wasn't listening to him, for some strange reason.
"Thirty CC's, darlin'," he told Nurse Chapel, wiping his brow on the back of his sleeve. "And somebody turn that damn alarm off, it ain't like I don't know."
The first officer's calm voice was louder than usual, cutting through the din of the infirmary and hurting Pavel's head. "Doctor McCoy, I must insist-"
"Honey, when I said to get that pointy-eared sumbitch out of here, I didn't mean Ensign Strel," he said, addressing the hulking security officer without looking away from Pavel's face. "Count back from Десять, sweetheart," he said gently, pressing a hypospray to his neck.
It was then that Pavel realized he may have been a little in love with him.
In fairness, though, he may have been hallucinating just a little bit.
2. medicinal wine from a teaspoon
"You've got to hold it by the rim, or it won't stay cold," McCoy told him, setting the metal cup down. He watched Pavel's face eagerly as he sipped it, obviously proud to be sharing something so special with him.
Pavel wondered how impolite it would be to spit it back out.
"Not working for you, is it?" he said, frowning. "Never mind- I've got a better idea." He turned around again, doing something complicated with sugar and mint, his dextrous hands moving quickly around the makeshift bar. He plunked a different glass down in front of him. "Kremlin Colonel. Vodka instead of bourbon."
With no little trepidation, he tried it, expecting a similarly disgusting blend. As it turned out, though, it worked very well for him. Possibly a little too well, if he was perfectly honest; though he only really had enough to make him brave, not stupid.
McCoy's lips still tasted like bourbon when Pavel finally leaned up to kiss him, but he really didn't mind one bit.
3. a sword and pistol by his side
When Leonard kissed him, it was like they were the only two people in the universe. He was thorough and calm and completely intent on Pavel, his hands warm and solid on the sides of his face, careful when they tangled into his unruly hair.
Being nineteen and all, Pavel had pretty much been ready to go from the first time, but to his great amusement and chagrin, Leonard continued to refuse.
"It's only been three weeks," he said, stubborn as ever. "I'm not fast, like certain captains of this ship that I could mention."
Pavel pecked him on the cheek. "I don't want to know what you have heard about Admiral Pike."
"It's a good thing you're so damn cute, you little smartass." Leonard advanced on him, looming over him a little in that way that sort of made his toes curl.
Pavel snorted. "You love it."
He slid his arms around Pavel's waist, drawing him close. "Damn right I do."
Luckily for him, pressing Pavel into his bed and blowing him until he couldn't remember his own name didn't seem to offend his delicate sensibilities. Pavel had tried to ask why that was okay, but Leonard just mumbled something about the letter and the spirit and went back to what he was doing.
4. the culture of honor
They managed to keep things under wraps for almost two months- not out of shame, but because every time Pavel brought it up, Leonard snarled something about it being nobody's damn business- but then, of course, there had been that diplomatic mission. And one of the ambassadors had decided he just had to get a handful of Pavel's ass as he walked by, which apparently wasn't kosher even by his own planet's standards, if the reactions of the rest of the council were any indication. And, of course, Leonard had noticed.
And shortly after that, they all got thrown in jail.
Kirk dabbed his fingers against his swollen lip, looking curiously at the blood on them. "Did you just call that guy a space Yankee?"
"You're goddamned right I did," he responded, still breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists. "And when I get out of here, I'mma whoop his ass."
Kirk rolled his eyes. "Spock, help me out here."
Spock shrugged noncommittally. "The impulse to protect one's mate is logical. Attacking an ambassador, however, is inherently illogical. Would you like me to placate half of him?"
Kirk's eyes lit up. "Mate?"
Leonard sighed heavily, pressing his fingers to his forehead. "Dammit, Spock."
"Please excuse me," the Vulcan said. "I did not realize that you were under the impression that it was not obvious."
Leonard gave him a look that could curdle fresh milk. He walked over to join Pavel, who had been pointedly ignoring the cell in general and Leonard in specific.
"I do not need to be protected," Pavel said coldly, resolutely not looking at him, his arms by his sides. "Not by you or anyone."
"Christ," he swore irritably. "Look, this doesn't have anything at all to do with what I think you're capable of. I'd have done that for anybody." He paused. "Except Jim, but that's because he likes it."
"This is a private conversation," he snarled over his shoulder. "Pavel," Leonard said, turning back towards him. "Pasha." He grabbed hold of one of his hands, and the young man finally deigned to look at him. "If you wanted to beat him yourself, I'd've held him down for you. It's just that somebody had to do it. There was no way I could let it rest and still look at myself in the mirror in the morning."
Pavel pursed his lips, looking distinctly unhappy; but when he sighed and nodded, Leonard mentally revised the number of days he'd have to spend on the couch from seven to five, three with good behavior. He squeezed Pavel's hand, unwilling to be any more demonstrative with the others around.
The hard part over with, Leonard walked over and dropped heavily onto the bench next to Kirk, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.
"Pasha?" Kirk asked, and Leonard could hear him smirking.
"Shut the hell up."
Kirk, of course, didn't stop needling him until long after a yawning Sulu came and bailed them out.
5. Ole Miss, by damn
They had gotten hold of a vid of something called an Egg Bowl, as well as a frankly scary amount of whiskey, and apparently, it was a really big deal.
"Are you ready?!" the captain screamed. Kirk hadn't ever even been to Mississippi, as far as Pavel knew; he was pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to hang out with Leonard and yell a lot.
"Hell yeah! Damn right!" Leonard answered, drawing out the words and punching the air for emphasis. He was excited as Pavel had ever seen him- maybe more- chanting intently and hollering every time something good happened.
Pavel decided to go see if Hikaru wanted to play chess. It was honestly a little bit scary.
1. o, there are ten thousand charms
Sometimes, very late at night, when he thinks Pavel is asleep, Leonard sings. They are songs that Pavel has never heard before, songs that are hundreds of years old; and even though they are about a god that Pavel has never believed in, they still comfort him. He sings about loss and hope and joy and the day that is to come, about paradise and faith and heartbreak.
Sometimes Pavel wants to remind him that they've already flown away, tell him that he doesn't really think he could get any closer to Heaven if he tried.
But he knows Leonard will stop if he knows he's been listening, so he keeps his eyes closed and just lets it wash over him, lulling him back to sleep.