His last day on Yorktown, McCoy sleeps in late.

When he finally rolls over, squinting at the sunlight streaming in the window, it's to the sight of an empty bed. The pillow is set neatly against the headboard, the sheet and blanket pulled up, taut except for where McCoy has rumpled them, tugging as he dozed well past dawn. He's sure if he peeks over the mattress, the covers will be neatly tucked under. Instead, he sprawls on his back, yawning. Idly, he rubs a palm over his stomach and thinks of just staying here a good while longer.

Then, he thinks of the coffee shop just down the block and levers himself out of bed.

In the bathroom, his toothpaste is carefully squeezed to the bottom of the tube. He rolls his eyes and presses right in the middle.

Most of his clothes are packed, but he's left out a few civvies. And boots that aren't standard issue, which he sits on the edge of the bed to pull on. It musses the sheets that much further.

Outside, the breeze is simulated, but it's good enough for McCoy. That, and the warmth of the sun on his face, the idleness of a morning with nothing in particular to get to. He has a chapter of his book waiting for him and an entire day to waste away.

Which is probably why Jim finds him on a park bench, under the shade of a too-purple tree and halfway through his coffee.

"What'd'ya get?" Jim asks and peeks into the paper bag McCoy set next to him.

"Get your own," he says and rescues his muffin from Jim's search. McCoy nearly wouldn't recognize him in jeans and an old shirt. He could be anyone on the street, not a captain shipping out the next morning. He hasn't seen Jim out of uniform in a while now. Like a kid in a candy store he is, with that new ship. Spock too, buried in one half constructed lab or another well past any decent hour, and back at it again before what McCoy feels can truly constitute morning.

You're relieved, he had told Spock. To be heading back out. You didn't want to go to the colony, did you.

Which had earned him a speech about duty and the needs of the many, which apparently remain quite important. It had also gotten him, later, after Spock had run out of steam, a very quiet yes.

Jim leans his elbows on the back of the bench and kicks his legs out in front of him. "Manas' trial starts today."

"You going?" McCoy asks.

"I gave a statement." A bird flutters by and they both watch it hop onto a branch above them to peck at a purple leaf. "We'll be gone by the time I would have testified. Jaylah's staying, though."

"Hell of a witness she'll be."

"She wants to see it through."

"She'd miss the beginning of the semester, wouldn't she," McCoy says.

"The Antares is headed home for a refit. We got her a bunk on it, and she says she's going to take it." Jim turns towards him. "Last chance, huh? You thinking you might join her?"

"You thinking you're out, too?"

"No."

"Me neither." McCoy sips at his coffee. "I'll be there tomorrow."

He feels Jim study him. What he sees, McCoy has no idea, but eventually Jim nods.

"You seem ok with it," Jim says.

"For the record, space exploration is-"

"-Oh quit it, you're as excited as the rest of us are." Jim crosses his ankles. Above them, the bird hops to another branch. McCoy peels the wrapper off his muffin and breaks off a piece. While he chews, Jim sits in silence, but he's never been all that good at keeping still, so McCoy doesn't bother to be surprised when he sits upright again, his knee bouncing. "Wanna go check out the ship?"

"I'll see it tomorrow," McCoy says and takes another bite.

"Have you been on the bridge? It's-" Jim holds his hands out. "It's huge, Bones, it's great. And sickbay?" Jim grins at him. "I got you a present. One of those bioneural axial-"

"-Focus modulators," McCoy says. "I know."

"You know?" Jim asks. McCoy rolls his eyes at Jim's pout. "How?"

Cause Spock brought the specs over. Handed them to McCoy along with a bag of takeout for their dinner.

McCoy fits the rest of his muffin in his mouth. "Just do," he says.

"Well, it's something to see." Jim elbows him. "C'mon."

"I have one day left," McCoy says. "Learn to relax a little, Jim. Enjoy the sunshine."

For a half a minute, Jim does. Then, he folds his arms over his chest, his head shaking and his eyes focused out on the park in front of them.

"I don't know what I was thinking, Bones," he says. "Not heading back out."

"I do," he says. He brushes crumbs off his hands. "It's hell out there, Jim, you know that as well as I do. We're just addled by it enough to remember the good over the bad."

But Jim just shakes his head again, his gaze distant.

"It's the crew," he says. "You know? I think if I were to stay here, if you all were going without me… well, it'd be damn hard, watching the lot of you leave."

McCoy lowers his cup, balancing it on his thigh. "Is that what you were thinking? Staying here at Yorktown?"

"What? Oh." The corners of Jim's eyes crease as he looks out across the park. "Yeah. I got… They offered me the vice admiral position here."

"Offered?" McCoy asks. "Or you applied for it?"

"Jesus, Bones, gonna make me say it? I applied." Jim leans forward, his forearms on his thigh.

"Anything else to share with the group?"

"No." Jim ducks his head forward and rubs his hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. "Fine. While we were on the ship, I applied then. When we first got our orders to come here." He sits up. "That's all, I swear. I turned them down before we headed back out."

McCoy frowns at the park around them. "You wanted to live here?"

"The trees are kind of cool," Jim says. He sighs. "I didn't want to go back to Earth. This was at least something new. And the ships being built here… I guess I figured I could stay in the loop."

"You would have been bored to death. Jim Kirk, expired due to filing one too many reports."

Jim groans, and then he laughs. "I know, I know."

"Next time," McCoy says and bumps his arm into Jim's, "Do yourself a favor and say something about all that to me, you hear?"

"Yeah." Half of Jim's mouth pulls into a grin. "Doctor's orders, I got you."

"Someone's gotta talk you down." A ball bounces by, a kid chasing after it. McCoy pulls in a breath. He already knows the answer, but asks anyway, "Did you ever talk everything out with Spock?"

"Yeah. The other day."

McCoy sips his coffee. "Good."

"The colony… I guess he felt like he had to go help out." Jim says. McCoy nods like it's news. "He says things are going better now, though. And that he's doing well, I guess, or whatever he said. Logically contented, these days."

"Hmm." McCoy picks at a crumb that fell onto his lap. Then, he looks up again, out across the grass. That bird's settled under a nearby tree and is picking at the roots, its long bill scratching over the ground. Jim will get up soon and leave McCoy be. He can feel it coming, that wave Jim will give him before he heads out, hands in his pockets as he finds his way back to his uniform and his ship. Which means that right now… well, this was always coming, wasn't it.

McCoy breathes past the swell that rises in him and sorts his way through the words that crowd into his head. "Jim, there's something to tell you."

Jim looks benignly expectant, his eyebrows raised. Fat a lot of help Spock has been with this. You and Jim are friends, he had said as if that settled the matter. What the hell that makes Jim and Spock, McCoy hadn't - and doesn't - know. He had just thrown his hands up. What a goddamn illogical excuse that had been, and it leaves McCoy here, the days until they're all on the ship ticking down into hours, into now.

Nothing for it, he figures, than to dive right in. Rip the bandaid off. Go for broke, he tells himself, something he should have done already. Still, he has to clear his throat before he continues.

"Spock and I are seeing each other," he says and takes a long drink of coffee.

Jim squints at him. Then he laughs, a short huff of a chuckle.

McCoy probably shouldn't be surprised that it hurts, but it does.

"Jim," he says.

"C'mon," Jim says. He sounds like he's going to laugh again and that pushes McCoy upright, out of the slump he's settled in.

"We are," McCoy says and makes himself look right at Jim.

Jim's eyes narrow. Slowly, that grin slides off his face.

"Close your mouth, would you?" McCoy clears his throat again. For too long, he waits. "Say something, Jim."

"I'm…" Jim pulls his upper lip into his mouth. He's still staring right at McCoy. "Wow."

McCoy looks off across the park.

"I wanted you to know before we head out tomorrow," he says. He finishes his coffee and crumples the cup in his hand. "What the hell Jim, are you upset?"

Are you ok, he thinks he meant to ask. He fusses with the ball he's made out of the cup. Is this ok.

"No," Jim says. "No, I'm- I'm excited. For you two. Wow, really?"

"Glad someone is," McCoy mutters. There's a trashcan just over there. He puts his hands on his thighs like he's going to stand.

"Aren't you?"

"Hell, I don't know." He eyes that trash can. Spock had asked just the other morning. Your impression so far, or something of the sort. McCoy had just shoved his spoon into his cereal. He probably should have answered. He knew that then and knows it now, too. Knew what to say even, just couldn't get his mouth around it.

"I guess," he says to Jim. "Yeah. I am."

"Is Spock?"

McCoy lifts his eyes towards the tree branches above them. "He's Spock."

"You two are really…" Jim blinks. He's still staring. "Since when?"

McCoy does stand. "Getting on a while now," he says and tosses the cup in the trash can.

He walks away. Jim jogs to keep up. "But… days? Weeks? When did you… God, when did this happen?"

"I'm not saying, Jim. Mind your own business."

"How? Did you two… How?"

McCoy keeps walking.

"Spock?" Jim asks. "Spock- our Spock?"

The one and only, these days at least. "Can it."

"God damn," Jim says. He's laughing. Again. But happily, a deep smile on his face. McCoy gets his shoulder cuffed, hard. "Bones! Really?"

Give Jim Kirk an inch, and he'll follow you around all morning. All day, McCoy figures, at this point. Hell, for years now, and McCoy is no closer to shaking the man than he was when he stepped off that shuttle into San Francisco's fog.

"We can go to the ship," he says. He's had years of practice trying to shut Jim up and the Enterprise has always been the fastest way to that, any iteration of her.

Jim puts his hand over his mouth. His voice drops and he says, "I have so many questions."

"Which you best be keeping to yourself."

"Spock," Jim says. "And you." He slings his arm over McCoy's shoulder and he could shrug it off, but he doesn't bother to. It's always been like this. Always will be, probably. "This is going to be one hell of a mission, Bones. I cannot wait to see this."

…

The End