McKirk and "That's my husband you're talking about"
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen Jim and Bones so stressed out,” Sulu says, and Uhura chuckles. “Yeah, can’t blame ‘em. It’s a big thing, after all,” she says, watching both Jim and Bones on the dance floor of the wedding venue. “Eh, Leonard’s been married before,” Sulu replies with a grin, sipping his champagne. “Hm, but Leonard is always stressed.” She smiles when Jim approaches the two of them with the biggest grin she’s ever seen. “Look at this,” he says, holding up his hand to show off the white gold ring around his finger. “Finally did it, huh?” Sulu says, “after nearly two years of calling him your fiance. Better late than never, huh?” He teases, and Uhura smiles. “How good does McCoy look in that suit, though?” She comments, and Jim smirks. “Careful, Uhura, that’s my husband you’re talking about. He’s definitely taken.”
York Town sees a lot of interns in the Medical Facilities. That’s fine, but perhaps a little less so when Bones has to spend hours upon hours teaching them how to dissect alien hearts. How to stitch patients back up when tools inevitably fail on them. What he doesn’t appreciate, though, is after a long day of trying to teach these morons to be decent doctors, he catches a whiff of office-gossip. “That Captain Kirk is really always getting hurt, huh?” “Yeah,” he hears another intern reply, “you’d think if someone had to be brought back from literally being dead, they’d be an unfit captain.” Bones grits his teeth at that. Normally, he doesn’t give a shit what people think about him - or others. But something about having been working here all day makes him more agitated than usual. He approaches the interns. “Doctor McCoy,” one says, “you worked with Captain Kirk for years-” “I still work with Captain Kirk,” Bones says, “every time I’m not here.” “Don’t you think the fact that the Enterprise suffers far more attacks and injuries than any other ship has anything to do with the leadership capabilities-” “First of all,” Bones says, “The Enterprise suffers more attacks because we venture our in deep space and actively look for trouble to keep your shiny lil snowglobe here safe. Second of all, that is my husband you’re talking about. I may be on duty now, but I’ve broken protocol before, and I will absolutely kick you out into the next galaxy if you even dare to think disrespectful of Captain Kirk again.”
“We’ve found a considerate amount of contraband aboard the Enterprise,” Admiral Williams tells Jim on their next visit. “Okay,” Jim replies. “Prohibited liquor, illegal foods. And you do understand the crew are not allowed more than one suitcase worth of personal belongings? The Enterprise is filled to the brim with personal items.” “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Jim says, “I allow my crew what they need without impacting performance. And if that means they take a pillow from home, or six blankets, I couldn’t care less.” “Breach of protocol aside,” the admiral continues, “that still leaves us with illegal foods and beverages aboard.” “It’s a three year trip,” Jim says. “Doctor McCoy had over 10 bottles of Whiskey in his locker, and at least a dozen of unregistered foods. If a doctor, of all people, can’t-” “Careful,” Jim interrupts, “that’s my husband you’re talking about. Doctor McCoy and I have one bottle of liquor each, all registered. All the other things in his locker are there because he goes around other people’s lockers. He takes them to his office for analysis, making sure there’s no harmful contraband aboard the Enterprise. McCoy is the best damn doctor in Starfleet, don’t you doubt him for a second.”
“You seem stressed today,” Jim says, sliding his arms around Bones’ shoulders, and leaning in to kiss his cheek. Bones is focused on his PADD instead, but Jim feels him lean back into his arms. “Long day at the office,” Bones says, and Jim smiles. “I can help you relax,” Jim says, kissing over Bones’ jaw and his neck softly, “how ‘bout we get to the bedroom, and I can massage your back and shoulders ‘til you feel better? I promise I come with happy endings.” “Hi, Uncle Jim,” Joanna’s voice rings from the PADD, “I can hear you.” “Oh, thanks for the heads up about you calling your daughter,” Jim huffs at Bones, only mildly embarrassed. He still leans in to kiss over Bones’ cheek. “Gross.” “Hey,” Bones says, “that’s my husband you’re talking about. Jim’s only slightly gross.”
Jim wakes up on Sunday morning on his side of the bed. He stirs and yawns loudly, as he always does, and he’s greeted by a soft groan of protest from Bones. Jim sits up straight slowly, just briefly, because in the end, he just shifts closer until he’s in Bones’ arms. That way, he can snooze for at least another hour or so. It’s their day off, they don’t really need to be anywhere any time soon. But pretty soon, he feels Bones shift, a hand slide around his waist and Jim hums softly. “Good morning,” he says, running his hands through Bones’ hair when the other leans in to kiss him. He pulls Bones in closer, arms around his shoulders and fingers brushing through his hair. “Morning,” Bones says, “good is still questionable.” “I think we can make it great,” Jim chuckles, smirk growing wider when the other climbs on top of him, and Jim enjoys the lazy kisses in his neck, unshaven cheeks against his own. “You’re the worst,” Bones says, though he smiles fondly at him, and Jim raises an eyebrow. “Careful, Bones, that’s your husband you’re talking about.”