Mar. 21st, 2015

leftwithmybones: (grumbly: by ?)
It's like he's traveled back in goddamn time.

Slinging Jim away from a hulk of a guy intent on whaling on his face a little more, too many drinks consumed between the both of them, it's like they're back in their first year at the Academy when Jim had been so damn eager to seek out trouble and McCoy didn't have anything better to do, seeing as Starfleet had forced him into bullshit easy courses and he had too much time on his hands while he worked on getting himself able to practice in San Francisco. So now they're back to it, except McCoy had snapped at the men Jim had picked a fight with to back off (seeing as they've done enough damage).

It's partially because McCoy knows if he has one more drink, he won't be able to patch Jim up and the way the night's going, he needs to be able to do that. Hauling Jim outside, he shoves him down to the curb and throws his jacket over his shoulders, not bothering to help him into it before he collapses down beside him, digging through his pockets to find the slim version of the hypospray he'd been working on -- something compact and simple.

"This'll sting a touch," he warns, before injecting it right next to the worst of the gashes on Jim's face, but hopefully the painkiller will kick in soon enough.


leftwithmybones: (Default)
Dr. Leonard McCoy

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