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Fic: The Wrong Shirt, Kirk/McCoy, NC-17

Title: The Wrong Shirt
Author: caitri
Rating: NC-17 (Explicit sex, language)
Pairings: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 4,410
Summary: AU. Jim Kirk is a doctor. Bones McCoy is a soldier. A non-PWP for gadgetorious’s birthday.
Disclaimer: I know this may come as a shock, but I am not, amazing as it may seem, Gene Roddenberry, J.J. Abrams, Paramount or Bad Robot. Just so you know.

A huge huge thanks to blue_jack, who heroically beta’d a mess of grammar tenses and an attempt at kink!!!!!

Inspired by these pictures:

(Moral: Will write fic and porn for pretty pretty pictures. That is all.)

“I don’t need a doctor, dammit, I am a doctor!”

“You need to take a seat—“

Angry now. “I had one, in the bathroom where there’s no window—“

“Sit down—“

“I suffer from aviophobia, it means fear of flying—“

“—or I’ll make you sit down.”

The man scowled and finally nodded, sat down. He turned to the dark-haired man next to him, who’d been watching the whole thing with a frown on his face, and warned, “I might throw up on you.” He pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket, taking a deep swig before handing it to his seatmate. “Jim Kirk.”

“Bones McCoy,” the man said, accepting the flask and taking a healthy swallow of bourbon. “Nice to meet you.”

The Wrong Shirt

Leonard “Bones” McCoy came from a long, proud line of military men. He’d been in MACO training at Fort Benning back home in Georgia, back before the divorce. He’d been off-world a few times, in and out of fire-fights—nothing ever too serious—the occasional skirmish with Romulans at the edge of the Neutral Zone to break things up, that sort of thing.

They called him “Bones” because of all the ones he broke in fights—the old fashioned melee kind. Bones was a good man to have in a fist fight, and even better with a phaser-rifle. People would’ve given him crap about the stuff he pulled, except for the fact that when he did that shit? He was winning fights and saving lives. That counted for a hell of a lot in the field—and that was where everything he did really mattered.

Bones was a damn good soldier, just like his daddy before him.

And then Jocelyn took the whole damn planet, leaving him with nothin’ but nothin’, and he got on that recruit shuttle to San Francisco, ready to join Starfleet and get off-world again—for good that time, probably.

And that was fine by him. His daddy was dead by then, and the ex-wife didn’t want him around their little girl, and hell, he loved her like he didn’t even know, was supposed to compress all that into once yearly visitation, and that wasn’t much for a father, was it?

So, to Starfleet, he figured. Better to die straight off out there in the black—instead of slowly, by degrees, the way Jocelyn wanted.

It was a great plan. The only thing was, by then he was too old to re-join his old unit of the MACOs (and yeah, twenty-nine was too old for the fuckin’ suicidal shit they pulled, that was the goddamn point), but they said they could send him through Starfleet, so that was what he up and did.

Turned out that took three years of officer training first.

For some reason, the drunk doctor from the recruitment shuttle became his constant shadow. Bones didn’t know why or how.

The kid was way too fuckin’ young to be a doctor, too. Scared the shit out of him, except credit was due where credit was due—Jim Kirk was damn good at what he did.

Even if his bedside manner was shit.

“What the fuck did you do this time, Bones?” the kid asked, face like thunder. “This is your second time in Medical this week!”

“Ain’t my fault Lieutenant Casey rigged the sims—shit!” Bones groused when Jim hypo’d him with something, hard. “The fuck was that for?”

Jim glared at him as Bones continued to cuss, the pain slowly dissipating. The doctor was silent the whole time, electric blue eyes blazing, and Bones found himself actually shutting up. Finally the younger man exhaled and said very carefully, “Bones. You act like you have a death wish. Don’t. Okay? Just—don’t.”

“What’s it to you?” Bones demanded roughly.

“It matters to me, man,” Jim said, completely serious. “Trust me.”


Jim Kirk got into Bones’s head after that. Those blue eyes, bright as his medic’s tunic. His slender, steady hands that skillfully moved as he did his job. That gritty determination to succeed.

That was the thing that got Bones most of all.

The kid hated space. Hated it. And yet for some damn reason, he was in Starfleet.

It took getting drunk for Bones to ask Jim what the hell he was so damn afraid of.

“Space is danger and death wrapped in darkness and silence, Bones,” the kid said seriously. “It killed my dad. Killed my mom and my brother, too. And it’s nearly killed me a few times.”

Bones stared at him blankly. Jim stared back at him. “You don’t know?” he asked.

“No, kid,” Bones said. “I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

“Oh. Huh.” Jim looked at him, obviously off-kilter, like he’d never been expected to just be himself and not one of the ghosts that followed him around. Turned out his daddy had been George Kirk, the famous hero from the Kelvin attack. Jim’s mother, Winona, had died in space when they were refugees after the Tarsus disaster. And his brother, Sam, had died on a colony world a few months before.

“So if you’re that scared of goin’,” Bones asked after a long while, “why are you?”

The kid shrugged, before looking up at him with those blue, blue eyes. “I’m tired of being scared, Bones. I’ve gotta prove to myself I can be something, out there in the black. If I can—“ He exhaled unsteadily, looking hesitant. “If I can,” he said again, “I’ll be making up for them somehow.”

Bones felt something foreign tightening up in his chest that made him swallow and clear his throat. He placed a firm hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Nothin’ll ever happen to you so long as you’re with me, kid,” he promised roughly.


Bones didn’t realize it for a while, but there was a lot of talk about Jim Kirk’s reputation, about his clever doctor’s hands and his “bedside manner.”

A lot of talk.

“You gonna hit that, man?” asked Gunn one day, as he saw Jim waving cheerfully at Bones where they practiced maneuvers on the quad. Gunn was another man assigned to Bones’s unit in the barracks. “For serious?”

“Why not?” Bones asked, cool like it didn’t matter.

It did matter, he just didn’t know how.

“Well,” Gunn said hesitantly, “it’ll be a good ride first time, but he don’t do seconds, not from what I hear. And you ain’t that kinda dude, near as I can tell.”

Bones rounded on the other man. “What do you mean I’m not that kinda dude?” he demanded, unexpectedly belligerent even by his own gruff standards.

“I’m just sayin’, the way you bitch about your ex—never mind.”

They went back to the drills, and if Bones happened to be a little too rough when they went one-on-one—well, it was what happened when he got in dark moods.

No, Bones McCoy wasn’t “that kinda dude.” He just didn’t want to admit it. And he didn’t want the kinda heartache that Jim Kirk could bring, either.

He was done with that shit.

Bones resolved not to think about the doctor anymore.

Not that way, anyhow.


Shuttle Piloting was a basic course all cadets had to take. As they had in their other classes, Jim and Bones got used to being paired up together—mostly by choice, occasionally by the other students’ or the instructors’ preferences. It got so that others began referring to them as Jim and Bones, Bones and Jim—like they were two sides of the same coin.

During their first flight session, Commander Yeager split the two of them up, pairing Jim with an eager command track student named Sulu and Bones up with a hot engineering chick named Gaila. They tried arguing with Yeager, but he didn’t want to listen. At any rate, Bones and Gaila worked fine together. In another life, Bones might have wanted to hook up with her—she was funny as hell, smart, knew what she wanted. All around his kind of girl. But he was too wound up with thoughts of another cadet, one with bright blue eyes and long-fingered hands…

He and Gaila made quick work of that first flight. In and out, easy as cutting butter on a hot summer day.

Jim was another matter.

He emerged from the sim a pale green, Sulu reeking of vomit and deeply unhappy.

Yeager gave in then. After that, no one had a problem with Bones and Kirk being paired up.

It turned out that for whatever reason, Kirk was just calmer when Bones was around. Less manic, more at ease with—everything.

“He really likes you, Leonard,” Gaila told Bones one night. The cheerful Orion was one of the only people who ever actually used his proper first name. Generally it pissed him off, but because it was Gaila, she got away with it. “You should do something about it.”

“Yeah, right,” Bones snorted. “That kid’s an honest to fuckin’ God genius, Gaila. You know that, right?” He glared at her, suddenly, inexplicably angry. “He’s twenty fuckin’ three and he’s already a doctor, hell, been a doctor for years now. I’m a soldier. I kill people. It’s what I do. We’re in two different fucking galaxies.” He was on a tear now. “I’m old. Divorced. I fuck up everything I’ve ever touched. What the hell would he want with me? Huh, Gaila?”

The Orion had stared at him stolidly throughout his entire tirade. When he was done he felt like—like a balloon with all the air let out of it, all tired and limp. “Leonard,” she said patiently, “he likes you. Trust me. As for why? Ask him.”

He didn’t. He did, however, take Jim out after he passed his shuttle exam and got him stinking drunk, because that was what guys did together—and more specifically, what they did together.

They were paid to leave the first bar they were at (too loud), closed the second bar, closed the third bar, and that was when they said fuck it and went back to Jim’s place.

Jim had a single. Bones had visited a few times, and it was like heaven—nice and quiet, a far cry from the barracks he was in. A real bed, too, not one of those skinny little bunks they put them in, where you could fit your head or your feet but not both at once—

“You’re welcome to share,” Jim said, and Bones realized he must’ve said all that out loud.

That was when the kid kissed him.

Jim’s mouth was warm on his, tongue running over his lips questioningly. Bones opened his mouth in response, and then the kid was gently but insistently pulling him to the bed. The two of them were roughly the same size, but Bones was slightly taller and definitely bulkier after years of training. Jim’s body underneath his was lithe and wiry, conditioned from their basic training courses, but nonetheless Bones felt strangely protective of him suddenly. He tried to pull back, but then Jim was holding him closer, making a hungry sound that was some place between a moan and a growl.

And it had been a damn long time since anyone had touched Bones like that. Too damn long.

Jim was palming his cock through his pants, and Bones felt himself harden further. “Fuck, kid,” he grunted.

“That’s the idea, Bones,” he murmured back, and then the hand was pulling down the zipper, thumbing aside his regulation briefs, and—

“Kid!” Bones rumbled.

Jim stopped, staring at him. “What, Bones?” His blue eyes were glazed over with lust and booze.

“I want to make sure this is what you want, Jim,” Bones said seriously. “That this whole thing isn’t some—some drunken—drunk thing,” he concluded, rather lamely.

“Bones,” Jim said in deep irritation, “shut up. And fuck me already.”

“Fine,” Bones snapped back, “but if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way.”

Jim seemed inclined to argue about that, but he hastily shut his mouth when Bones got his own hands into his trousers.

Kirk went commando.

For some reason that was hilarious to Bones, but his amusement was quickly replaced with lust as he slipped to his knees on the floor and pulled out Jim’s hardening cock. It strained in his hand, veins prominent, the skin pale against the dark bronze of his own hand. Gripping it tightly, he pulled Jim’s head down to kiss him again, ignoring the throbbing of his own building desire.

He’d planned on giving the kid a blow job, but the need to have him naked, to have Jim’s body writhing beneath his was overwhelming.

“Clothes off, now,” Bones demanded.

Jim complied hastily, pulling his red cadet’s tunic and black undershirt over his head in a single go, shrugging his legs out of his regulation trousers. Bones unabashedly admired him the whole time.

The doctor’s chest was in better shape than he would have thought, abdominal muscles tight and defined. Dark blonde hair was lightly sprinkled over his chest; a heavier line of it began just below his navel and continued to between his legs, forming a helpful arrow should Bones find himself lost at some point in the proceedings. He had “chicken legs”—skinny, with blonde hairs that appeared almost indistinct in the low light.

“Like what you see, Bones?” Jim asked, arching an eyebrow. “Your turn to strip down.”

“Who said I was gonna get naked,” Bones said lazily, even as he leaned up to pull Jim close to him again. The other man made a grunt of annoyed protest that swiftly became a moan as Bones dragged him onto his lap so that Jim’s erection was flush against his chest. Bones’s hand on his ass held him in place. “I kinda like this,” he continued, found and stroked idly over Jim’s hole. He kissed Jim again, biting his bottom lip. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

“Fuck, Bones,” Jim murmured obediently as Bones lightly explored the sensitive ring of muscle. He pressed his index finger against it, testing the soft flesh there. “I want—oh—want you—to—fuck—me!” That last came out as a near whine.

“Soon, darlin’,” Bones promised, nuzzling Jim’s neck. He ran his teeth across the skin there, taking no pains to be gentle. Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was having been alone too long, maybe it was just an old soldier’s fancy, but he felt like being territorial tonight. He ran his fingers over Jim’s warm skin, trying to focus, calm himself down—make everything last. “Tell me where the lube is.”

“Night stand,” Jim said, stifling a cry as Bones bit him again, hard. It made a dark mark against his pale skin. Bones licked at it, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder. Jim smelled like soap and cigarette smoke from the bar, and under that, the faintest hint of antiseptics from his work. “Second drawer. Jesus Christ.”

Bones looked at him then, hazel eyes looking deep into blue. “Am I hurting you, kid?” he asked. “Want me to stop?” He would, too, if the kid asked him to.

Might kill him, but he would.

“Lube, Bones,” was all Jim said in answer.

He didn’t strip down, though he meant to, but he was too excited, and Jim was too, and—well. Jim got the bottle of lube into his hands, and Bones shoved his pants and briefs to his knees as he slicked himself up good. He put Jim on his hands and knees, slipping lubed fingers into him, tentatively exploring in preparation. Jim was warm and tight, and when his flesh instinctively clamped on Bones’s fingers, Bones felt another upsurge of lust. He forced himself to keep stroking gently, in and out, trying not to think of how very badly he wanted the man who was currently whimpering his name.

Bones couldn’t remember the last time he heard talk like that, either—like they couldn’t get enough of it, like they wanted him so much it hurt. He tried not to think about that and told himself to just enjoy what was, just for a second. Might not be a second time later and all.

So as much as he could, he took his time to get Jim ready. When he was satisfied, Jim was breathing harshly. “Jesus Christ, Bones,” he muttered.

“Hush, you,” Bones said, his drawl deepening with arousal. He kissed the back of Jim’s neck softly. The doctor’s body was dappled with sweat, trembling body straining and eager. He was fucking beautiful, and Bones felt a deep well of tenderness for the man. “I wanna make you feel good.” He ran the straining head of his cock over the cheeks of Jim’s ass playfully, letting him feel what was coming, and then placed it at his entrance. Paused.

“Bones!” Jim pushed his ass back eagerly. “Hurry the hell up, already! I need you.” He did too, if that eager tone was anything to go by. Bones ran a hand across Jim’s back, following the line of his spine, causing the younger man to tremble further with impatient desire.

“Just checkin’,” he said, and then began pushing inside. The first second was heaven—Jim was so damn hot—and it only got better as inch by inch he was engulfed. When he was firmly sheathed, he pressed his chest to Jim’s bare back. He tried counting backwards from twenty as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself. He got down to around fifteen when he realized he still wore his damn cadet reds, and the tunic felt suddenly stifling. He unzipped it quickly, enjoying the feeling of air on his skin before pressing down against the dampness of Kirk’s. “How you doin’, kid?” he asked.

“Fuck, Bones,” Jim murmured hoarsely. “You feel—really—fuckin’ good.” Something in the way Jim spoke, as if he were just as affected as Bones was, made Bones panic, reminded him of the way things could be between two people…He hastily pushed that thought away.

“Yeah?” the soldier demanded, then. He leaned back, slapping Jim’s ass. “How good?” He pulled out a bit, before thrusting in again. “How good?” he asked again as Jim let out a strangled moan. That killed Bones, and though he’d meant to torture the younger man some more he found himself moving again, enjoying the feel of Jim bucking up against him.

“Really fucking good,” Jim said roughly. “God, Bones! You’re—a—kinky—fuck!” He made a strangled sound then, and Bones knew he’d hit his sweet spot, so he stayed in that position, rolling his hips to hit it over and over as he reduced James T. Kirk to a quivering bundle of sensitive nerves and profane endearments.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, hands tightening on his hips, “let yourself go.” Jim flew over the edge, exhaling a rough cry as his muscles contracted with his orgasm, and that was what set Bones off. It had nothing to do with Jim’s cry of ecstasy, how the sound of it made something melt in Bones that he hadn’t even known was frozen, nor how simply perfect Jim looked in his joy, nor the sense of completion Bones felt when he was with his friend.

Nope, none of that at all.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bones,” Jim murmured afterward. They were on the bed then, stretched out, warm and sated. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

Bones snorted. “Like you’re the only cadet to ever been around,” he muttered.

“Clearly I haven’t been to the right places,” Jim said, still breathing heavily. “Fuck.”

Bones grunted, tucking the man up against him. He ran his fingers through Jim’s blonde hair, darkened with sweat. Let himself feel that up swell of affection as Jim closed his eyes trustingly, burrowing closer as they settled themselves for sleep. “Let me tell you about this place called Risa…”


The next two years passed like that. Jim had his medical work; Bones had his officer’s training. They argued, fucked, argued some more, fucked harder.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he knew they were gonna be separated when everything was all said and done, they probably would’ve been the happiest years of Bones’s life.

And then.

The distress call from Vulcan. Bones and Jim were both assigned to the Enterprise, Kirk as senior medical staff and Bones as one of the senior tactical officers. Bones was on the bridge, surveying technical reports when Jim rushed in, eyes blazing, followed by the Xenolinguistics major he’d been so fond of tormenting.

“Doctor Kirk, what’s the meaning of this?” Captain Pike asked in irritation.

“It’s a trap, sir,” Jim said, and went on to explain about the lightning storm in space, the Kelvin, the Romulan ship, about a Klingon fleet that had been destroyed the night before.

“I deciphered the message myself,” the communications cadet finished.

“It makes sense, Captain,” Bones contributed. He could feel the adrenaline rush starting to pound through him. “We need to warn the rest of the fleet.”

The Vulcan First Officer’s lips tightened. “The cadet’s logic is sound,” he said.

Pike frowned. “Alright, people. Red alert.”


It all became a blur after that. Bones was sent down with Sulu and an engineer named Olson to take out the Romulan drill. They succeeded—but too late. Jim had his hands full in the infirmary: Dr. Puri, the CMO, died in the first attack, leaving only Jim, another doctor named M’Benga, and a handful of nurses to handle a severely incapacitated crew and dozens of refugees from Vulcan.

Spock’s decision to rendezvous with the fleet was a bad one—Bones knew it in his gut. He argued but backed down when the Vulcan ordered him to subside.

Jim didn’t. “You’re making a mistake, Spock! It’s suicide!”

“I want this man off my ship,” Spock ordered after he administered a neck-pinch to the new CMO.

“Are you out of your Vulcan mind?” Bones said before he could stop himself.

“Do you wish to join him?” Spock demanded.

“No, sir,” Bones subsided unhappily.

He felt like shit after that. What the hell kind of man let his friend, hell, his lover, get jettisoned to an ice planet in an escape pod?

When Jim showed back up a few hours later with an odd Scotsman in tow, it was a surprise.

When he got into a fist-fight with the Acting Captain in front of the entire bridge crew, it was a shock to the system.

“Well that’s great, Jim,” Bones said when Spock ceded his command and left the bridge. “We’ve got no goddamn Captain and no goddamn First Officer to replace him.”

“No,” Jim said, “but we got me.” His blue eyes were hard then. He stripped off the blue medical tunic, leaving him in his blacks. It was hardly following the chain-of-command, but there were so many dead, and no one else stepped in to argue. Even the thickset Head of Security, who had been all too eager to frogmarch Jim in earlier, didn’t say a word.

Jim sat in the command chair, punching a button to activate the shipwide intercom. “All decks, this is your Captain speaking.”


After it was all over—all of it, the Narada, the escape from the black hole, the first few days of mad repairs as they limped back home, Bones found Jim.

The kid looked like hell. He’d run himself to pieces going back and forth between the Bridge and Sickbay. Bones had no doubt that Jim was way the hell over the number of stims he’d ever let anyone else have.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey yourself.” Jim smiled back wanly.

They were silent a moment, unsure of what to say. Then Jim spoke—slowly, as if he was reciting a dream or something, like he didn’t even believe what he was saying. “I met—I met this guy from the future. Well, another future. The—alternate reality, or whatever. There, I—another me—was Captain of the Enterprise. And a Doctor McCoy was his CMO.” He turned, facing Bones then.

It took him a minute to parse that out. “You mean me?” Bones said disbelievingly. He fought the urge to laugh. “A doctor?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah. Look,” he said almost hesitantly, “I know I saved the Earth and all, but—I can’t do this, Bones. I’m a doctor, and I’m good at it. It’s what I want to do.” He paused, then added almost in an apologetic whisper. “It’s who I am.”

Bones stared at him. “So be a doctor. Who the hell’s gonna tell you no?”

Jim opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again.

“And let me tell you,” Bones continued. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna be no doctor. So. There’s that.”

“Yeah. There’s that.” They were both quiet again. “And then what?”

Bones pretended to think about that, and then he pulled Jim close to him. “You’ll be CMO, I’ll do tactics. We’ll follow Pike or Spock or whoever the hell else they put us under. And then we go on our merry fucking way. The both of us. For good.” He paused at that last part, wondering what Jim was making of his declaration. When Jim didn’t argue, and instead started to smile, he said, “There’s no ‘supposed to be.’ There’s only what is. That’s how we’ll roll.”

“Yeah?” Jim was lit up with relief, joy—a bunch of other things. Bones knew how he felt, because it was what was inside him too. “I think I like that plan.”

“Yeah?” Bones said and closed his eyes, held Jim even tighter. “Good. Me too.”



Author’s Gratuitous Notes

The MACOs are Military Assault Command Operations and first appear on Enterprise. They’re the equivalent of modern day Special Ops men, taking all the dangerous jobs. At some point in the Prime universe they just got absorbed into Starfleet, but I imagine in the alternate reality they would be resurrected to deal with the harsher world the Federation has to deal with—they’d still be part of Starfleet, just a different division. I’ve met/related to a few guys who’ve done that sort of work—generally you muster out around twenty-seven because after twenty-five you’re just not in peak condition to do the stuff they do.


( 56 comments — Add your .02 )
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<<[1] [2] >>
Aug. 19th, 2010 05:14 am (UTC)

Just so you know, the idea that this was supposed to be PWP still makes me snort.

But it DOES have porn this time. And it's GOOD porn! :D

THANKS FOR MY PRESENT. And dude, you have not idea how much I am looking forward to my cake.
Aug. 19th, 2010 05:21 am (UTC)
Hey, I'm glad I got it to you only five days late and after three tries!!! (Which btw, if I ever die and my husband looks at my computer and discovers WIP - Evi's Porn file....well, yeah. Just sayin'.)
(no subject) - gadgetorious - Aug. 19th, 2010 05:27 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - caitri - Aug. 19th, 2010 05:28 am (UTC) - Expand
Aug. 19th, 2010 05:21 am (UTC)
Let's just talk about how much i freakin LOVE badass!Bones. cause i do. love 'im like i love ice cream. which is a lot.

then lets take a moment to describe the awesomeness of your AU...
fjalskdjflaksajoqazxnfawjwin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (there are no words!!!!! and that win at the end was a total accident but completely appropriate)
Aug. 19th, 2010 05:24 am (UTC)
:D Thank you!!! And yeah, badass!Bones kinda took over by a lot....it was just gonna be a PWP, and then, uh, no.

(Why btw, writing badass!Bones is fun. And it gave me another Jim/Eomer plotbunny if I can ever get that other damn fic DONE.)

And awesome on the extra win!!!!!!!!!! *beams*
Aug. 19th, 2010 05:47 am (UTC)
Wonderful story! I really like this AU *beams*

“You’ll be CMO, I’ll do tactics. We’ll follow Pike or Spock or whoever the hell else they put us under. And then we go on our merry fucking way. The both of us. For good.” He paused at that last part, wondering what Jim was making of his declaration. When Jim didn’t argue, and instead started to smile, he said, “There’s no ‘supposed to be.’ There’s only what is. That’s how we’ll roll.”

I like McCoy in here, where he's such a super-realist and just doesn't give shit to "maybe's". Tough as we know him, with the MACO training pronouncing all that. Kirk as doctor also fits very well for me, especially the explanation why he wants to go to space. Phew.

Aug. 19th, 2010 05:49 am (UTC)
*grins* Yay, I'm so glad you thought it worked!!!! :D
Aug. 19th, 2010 06:08 am (UTC)
Ngl, I love me some Doctor Jim. And this? Is just perfection. I love every part of it.
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:09 pm (UTC)
Aww, thank you!!!! :)
Aug. 19th, 2010 08:03 am (UTC)
Brilliant AU. Sensitive, doctor Jim, yes indeed. And damn, the BAMF McCoy! Fun and terrifically sexy.

Aug. 19th, 2010 11:11 pm (UTC)
:D Glad to hear!!
Aug. 19th, 2010 10:18 am (UTC)
This was awesome. It's always interesting reading a role-reversal type fic and that pic of Karl Urban is a good one. I love Doctor Jim, and a military Bones makes for a really good story. Great work.
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:08 pm (UTC)
:D Awesome, thank you!!!!!
Aug. 19th, 2010 10:33 am (UTC)

I luuuuurve this version of Bones and Jim - still them, but with that little twist that seperates them wonderfully :)
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:12 pm (UTC)
I knooooow, and it's weird but they STILL work together awesome this way!
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:21 am (UTC)
Good god but this is fantastic. Not that I'd expect anything different from you.

I love what you get up to when your Wednesdays are free.
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:12 pm (UTC)
*blushes hard* This comment made my day, seriously dude!!!!
Aug. 19th, 2010 12:04 pm (UTC)
I tend to have a hard time with fic where their roles are swapped like this, but I enjoyed this. Especially the sex. :-D
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:13 pm (UTC)
Thank blue_jack for helping with that--she made that scene what it is!!
Aug. 19th, 2010 12:27 pm (UTC)
LOVE THIS. Bad ass/possessive!Bones is mah favorite. Om nom nom. And this turned out to be so much more than PWP. ♥
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:14 pm (UTC)
:D BAMF!Bones is awesome. I now have a thing for soldier!Bones, IDEK...
Aug. 19th, 2010 01:37 pm (UTC)
Man, you sure know how to celebrate a birthday! I like the different nuance of their relationship, with Bones being Jim's 'protector' on a different level...and I really like the porn. Um, unf.
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:15 pm (UTC)
lol! Birthday porn is the bestest thing ever. It's the gift that..keeps...on...yeah it's porn. %)
Aug. 19th, 2010 01:48 pm (UTC)
YAY for PWP birthday fic!!!!! XD XD XD *snickers*

Awesome, bb.
Aug. 19th, 2010 03:55 pm (UTC)
YOU. Beta'er of birthday fic. I think I speak for everyone in the world when I say WE LOVE YOU.
(no subject) - blue_jack - Aug. 19th, 2010 06:41 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - caitri - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:16 pm (UTC) - Expand
Aug. 19th, 2010 03:03 pm (UTC)
I love that you can't write PWP and I totally enjoyed this change up in their relationship, especially the ending where Bones was all like it doesn't matter what's supposed to be, all that matters is what is.

Wonderful! (And hot! mmmm, so very hot!)
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:17 pm (UTC)
I love this comment. ******HEART********

I WANT to write PWPs, it's just they end up being, as gadgetorioussaid, Porn With Plot!
(no subject) - weepingnaiad - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:20 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - caitri - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - weepingnaiad - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:38 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - caitri - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:43 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - weepingnaiad - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:48 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - caitri - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:50 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - weepingnaiad - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:54 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - caitri - Aug. 19th, 2010 11:56 pm (UTC) - Expand
Aug. 19th, 2010 05:40 pm (UTC)
This makes me so happy for so many reasons!!!
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:09 pm (UTC)
Yay! Glad to hear it!!
Aug. 19th, 2010 07:26 pm (UTC)
This is pretty cool. Like you changed them and their characterizations to fit. They still make sense.
Aug. 19th, 2010 11:17 pm (UTC)
:D Thank you!!!
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