leftwithmybones | [For Scotty]

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[For Scotty]

McCoy isn't sure what to make of the Island in general, but he knows now more than ever that he generally hates it. Little surly gods of love running around with messages? Yeah, not exactly his idea of paradise. He's made it to the morning of the fifteenth, though, and has wandered out to the main room, knocking on Spock's door. "Spock?" he calls out. "Spock, I'm going to get breakfast, I'll bring you back some tea."

With no audible response (or one too quiet for him to dignify), he sets off on a path that'll take him by Scotty's place. If nothing else, maybe he can have some decent company while he gets something to eat and celebrates the fact that he survived a chintzy holiday created for no better reason than to sell chocolates and cards. He arrives and waits outside, not bothering to even knock. "Scotty!" he calls, voice decently loud. "It's morning, c'mon, let's go eat!"

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McCoy's intent on sliding his foot further up Scotty's calf, a low laugh escaping his lips as he leans forward and tries to keep Scotty's attention on him so he can keep looking into those eyes of his. McCoy is in serious danger here because he really loves looking at him and doesn't ever want to stop. "I just want to hear that beautiful brogue of yours some more. Don't stop talking."

"Aye, er, well, I think I can do that," Scotty said, a little flustered, wondering when exactly that foot was going to stop and rather hoping that it wouldn't. He leaned in, determinedly meeting McCoy's gaze, wanting to lose himself in those eyes so he could stop panicking about blowing his chances with this wonderful, exciting man.

"Though I don't know what I'd talk to ye about. I'd tell ye about home, but it's been so long since I've been there I've started to forget what it looks like, and I'd tell ye about the Enterprise but my favourite stories would bore ye rigid. I'd tell ye about the stars, but the ones around here act all strange, and I'd tell ye about the laws of physics but they don't seem to apply around here."

He took a deep breath before saying his next line, wondering if it was too corny, and eventually deciding there was no such thing as too corny when you were with somebody you loved.

"And I'd tell ye how beautiful and clever you are, but I'm no poet and I wouldn't have the words." His gaze dropped to McCoy's lips. "But I could show my appreciation in a different way, if you'd allow it."

Every word that Scotty says drives more passion and excitement into McCoy's heart and makes him sure that he's made the right choice in listening to his heart. This incredible man wants to talk to him and McCoy just wants to tell him how much he loves him. He knows that it's out of nowhere, but he feels so absolutely sure that it can't possibly be a mistake! "A different way, huh?" he breathlessly asks. "I'd be an idiot not to ask what kind of way you're thinking about."

Why ask, when you can show? Carefully, legs shaking, Scotty got up, leaned across the table and cupped McCoy's face with his hand. He paused, just for a moment, drawing out the anticipation, then closed the gap and kissed him.

He'd read in books about silly things like fireworks going off behind your eyes, but he'd never felt anything like that until now. He was still in the shirt he slept in and hadn't brushed his teeth and he'd placed his other hand right in what was left of his sandwich, and he didn't care at all, because he was kissing McCoy and that was amazing.

McCoy's getting to be a busy man with his lips these days, but he's sure that none of them, nowhere, not any other kiss in the history of all his kisses ever, will ever compare to this one right here. He leans forward, sliding his fingers into Scotty's hair and letting out a bite of a moan when his whole body feels electric and incredible.

By the time he eases away, he's panting and he feels like he has a whole new lease on life. "Good god, man, that mouth of yours is a weapon," he growls.

McCoy was all flushed and messed-up and panting, and the thought that it was all because of him made Scotty want to forget breakfast, jump across the table and do all manner of filthy things to him. It was only some vague, lingering sense of old-fashioned prudishness that held him back. Instead, he mustered up a grin, half-embarrassed and half-proud, and said,

"It'll be even better once I've brushed my teeth. C'mon, let's get up and go out and do... well, I don't know what we'll do, but I'm sure if it's with you it'll be great."

A whole day just to bask in the unfettered glow of McCoy. It was going to be wonderful.

McCoy's still trying to figure this all out. One minute he'd just wanted breakfast, but now he has all that and more, though he has no idea what to explain the 'more' with considering that it's so short-lived. "Hey," he says, glancing up at Scotty, hand on his arm. "Does this make us...boyfriends?" he asks, all filled with hope and anticipation.

Scotty stopped in the midst of clearing away the plates to look back down at McCoy, and couldn't help but kiss him again when he was sitting there looking so unfeasibly handsome.

He moved away, just a little, their noses still touching, and murmured,

"I prefer the term 'lovers'."

The moment was broken when he straightened up again, dashing around the place, all too conscious of what a mess his hut was. He wanted to do about ten things at once, too excited by just how wonderful this day had been so far to work out which to tackle first.

"Well, the way you say it, I can't argue," McCoy agrees and mostly because he doesn't want to agree. He thinks about saying the wrong thing and then suddenly Scotty would be gone and he doesn't want that, not at all, especially not when he's so close and things are going so well. "Lover," he tries it out for size, feeling a rush pulse through him.

Scotty couldn't remember the last time he'd had a day as lovely as this. It'd been so long since he'd last been in love, let alone in love so intensely and passionately that it made him dizzy every time he looked over at McCoy. It had all happened so fast, but at that moment, it felt so right.

After finishing breakfast and tidying it away, and whiling away the morning with idle talk and affectionate companionship, they finally got out of the hut some time in the early afternoon. Hand in hand, they walked across the island in search of a secluded spot to have a picnic - not so easy when the place was so small and well-populated. After some exploration and a couple of false starts, at last they came to a shady clearing in the depths of the forest. The only things that would disturb them here were the birds.

"Here, this is perfect," Scotty said, setting down the bundle of miscellaneous goods he'd brought with him. He pulled out a blanket and unfurled it with a snap of his wrists, laying it down carefully on the ground.

"Isn't this just beautiful?" he said, sitting down and patting the space beside him to indicate McCoy should join him. "And to think I'm spending it with you. I must be the luckiest man in the whole universe right now."

"Second luckiest," McCoy feels compelled to correct as he sits down and makes sure that he's sitting close enough that parts of his and Scotty's bodies are touching. He's just discovered how amazing that makes him feel, like he's flying on cloud nine, and he's not about to give that up. He chances a kiss and feels like he's gotten away with something daring when he manages to steal one, sliding one hand around Scotty's back to merely hold tight. "After all, you're here with me. So I'll claim the luckiest position, happily."

Scotty might have argued, but the feeling of McCoy close against him was just so wonderful that it drowned out all rational thought. He made a pleased little noise and cuddled up closer, nuzzling McCoy's neck.

"I can't believe we never did this earlier," he murmured. "To think, all those months we wasted just being friends when we could've had this all along." He'd been so lonely, so long, almost forgotten how good it was to feel this way.

"Guess everything just clicked," McCoy agrees, leaning against Scotty and turning so that he can face him properly. Cuddling and nuzzling are just fine and all, but hell, there's so much more that they can be doing. He straddles Scotty's thighs and leans in, getting nervous all over again. "I should tell you. Last time I tried to have sex, it didn't work. Maybe...maybe I was waiting for you."

"Could be," Scotty said, the smile he'd been wearing all day widening even further. Just having McCoy positioned atop him like this was sending shivers down his spine, and the anticipation of what was likely to happen next was delicious. (He'd had so much planned for this afternoon, but dammit, McCoy was beautiful and wonderful and willing, and his bagpipes would be there when they were done.)

"These hands can fix anything, ye know," he said, sliding said hands down along McCoy's thighs. "I'm sure with a little tinkering I could get your motor running again."

"I really don't see how a man of sense could say no to that," McCoy remarks, grinning and pushing his hands up under Scotty's shirt to cover ground that he hasn't felt in years. "S'been a while since I've been with another man. Marriage does tend to end that," he admits. "You think...I don't know, you think if everything goes right, you and I could walk down that aisle? I mean, I feel like everything is so perfect, how do you just ignore that? How do you turn it away?"

Scotty's heart skipped a beat, and it wasn't just because of the talented fingers currently working their way up along his chest.

"Did I just mishear ye, or was that a proposal?" he said, not quite daring to believe it. "Because if it was ye'd make me happier than I'd ever thought possible."

He looked up at McCoy, eyes shining with hope, awaiting the reply.

"I'm not saying we should do it today or tomorrow, but I think that if everything aligns and the planets all fall into the pattern that they do, that's one mistake I'd love to make again," he admits, fingers diverting temporarily in their path in order to pause and take a moment to slide lower to more sensitive areas.

Forget teasing and coyness and stringing it all out. Scotty just got proposed to. It'd been years (and years and years) since he'd had any kind of closeness or affection with a fellow human being, and now he was going to marry the love of his life and everything was going to be amazing.

He lunged up and kissed McCoy madly, wildly, pressing his hands against McCoy's shoulders until they were both flat on the ground and Scotty was on top, so dizzy with love he could hardly believe it.

His foot knocked against his bagpipes, which made a disappointed squawk. He ignored them.

The bagpipes and their discordant sound might as well have been a siren song of love for them, something that McCoy will remember until their very last days together. It's their lives and how can he even think about that when all he wants to do is kiss Scotty and try and convince him that he loves him more than anything in the whole wide world! He kisses back determinedly, as if trying to strip his mouth of a layer, easing back breathlessly as he stares up at him. "You make me feel like nothing I've ever felt before."

"Aye, and you, vice versa, uh, that is, I mean -" Scotty realised he was babbling, and decided to put his mouth back to better uses, unable to get enough of McCoy's endless, wonderful kisses.

His hands were everywhere, unable to settle on one place at a time, until finally he made his way to the button of McCoy's trousers, and broke apart, grinning at him.

"Now, you just lie back there, and let's see if we can get ye back in good working order," he said.

He can definitely lie back and think of Scotty's roaming and eager hands, a flush of absolutely mad love rushing through him and he lets out a breathless laugh as he lets his hips arch upwards. "I heard you're good with broken things."

"Like I said," Scotty replied, grinning eagerly, fingers making quick work of McCoy's fly. "I can fix anything."

He paused, for a moment, to appreciate the sight before him, then cracked his knuckles and got to work. This day just kept on getting better.

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