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Kirk knew just how much his friend hated flying, and knew this trip was going to be a nauseous blur for Bones. The planet evidently needed Bones in the worst way, needed a doctor that could manage a cure for this plague that an enemy had unleashed upon them, and there was no one better then Bones.

He didn't want to order Bones to go. He didn't want them fighting. He had slipped into their room late enough that Bones was asleep and had found his peace in a few hours curled up against the other man's back, smelling bourbon and sweat and Bones.

...What the hell is wrong with me? I think... I'm falling for him. I don't do relationships. They mean monogamy and faithfulness and... and... shit. I don't want to hurt him. As if he wanted that. The last thing he needs is a tomcat for a boyfriend. Bones is smarter then that.


And got up before Bones had woken up.

He stood in the doorway to the hanger, watching the last of things being loaded. There was Bones, looking pale and sweaty and terrified already. A tiny smile quirked his lips, amused. It never failed to remind him of their first meeting. Space is disease and danger wrapped in silence and darkness, you told me. But now? My whole world's here.

He walked towards the doctor, a tiny smile on his lips.
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James T. Kirk

January 2020

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