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Title: Pigheaded
Rating: PG.
Fandoms: ST:TOS, DCU
Summary: for reasons that I don't explain, Bones meets J'onn and, briefly, Bruce.
Disclaimer: anything you recognise, isn't mine.
Wordcount: 1068
The infirmary door hissed open.
"Now what?" Bones dropped his head heavily into his hands, and allowed himself to fantasize briefly of the bottle of the good stuff he'd planned to share with Scotty before all this bloody mess happened. Then he dragged himself out of his chair, and then out of his office, to see who needed what.
He paused in the doorway when he saw who his intruder was. It was kind of difficult not to stare in awe at the looming green form of their dimesionally-challenged visitor. McCoy had seen his fair share of aliens since signing on with the Enterprise, but a big green shapeshifter with red eyes was still a new one by him.
If the ... man ... heard his approach, he didn't show it. He was concentrating on the still form of their other guest, one large hand resting on the edge of the bio-bed. He made no move to wake his injured friend, however, and for that Bones was extremely grateful. He'd had enough trouble with the pig-headed fool the first time around.
"He is resting far easier than I would have expected," the alien commented lightly, as if he'd read McCoy's mind. Which, according to Spock, he might well have done. Just his bloody luck. He seemed to be a magnet for all things green and telepathic.
"Yes, well. I might've helped him a little bit with that." Bones grumbled, entirely unapologetic. His new friend raised what would have been an eyebrow if it'd had hair, and smiled gently.
"He was ... uncooperative, I take it?"
Mccoy huffed lightly. "You could say that. He apparently got the idea that just because he may have trained his body to go without proper treatment for far longer than he's had, I was gonna let him walk out of here with healing ribs and a concussion." He snorted, and the alien's mouth twitched. "And while I have been given an exact diagnosis and outline of an 'appropriate' treatment that does not involve at least five hours downtime before, the person in question had the excuse of being a logical, duty-obsessed Vulcan. I was under the impression that your friend was human."
The green man smiled fully, and reached out to touch his teammate's hand gently. "He is," he murmured. "But he has had to be so much more, for a very long time. He has had to survive things that have killed stronger beings, and make it look easy. And right now, he is tired, and cranky, and he doesn't like being hurt when he thinks people might need him. So he fights with you about resting." He slid a wry look Bones' way. "And loses, apparently."
McCoy shifted a bit. "I know his type. Rather well, since coming here. He wasn't going to rest until I either knocked him out, or fixed the entire bloody mess. And since I can't redesign an interdimensional rift on twenty minutes notice, I ... helped him along a little."
"Was that entirely ethical, doctor?"
McCoy bristled, and was about to retort testily when he realised that the other man was still smiling gently at him, and there was a glimmer of humour in the red eyes, though he was damned if he knew how he'd figured that out, seeing as the man had no pupils or irises to go by.
"Ha, ha," he drawled. "Tell me, have you talked with our Mr Spock yet? He has a sense of humour you might find familiar. Once you manage to find it at all."
The alien nodded. "We have met. It was rather pleasant, in fact, to speak with another telepath who wasn't trying to kill me or take over the Earth."
McCoy blinked. "Meet a lot of those, do you?" he asked dryly.
"You'd be surprised. But your Spock was indeed ... rather familiar." And he smiled down at the dark-haired sleeper with such obvious affection that McCoy found himself grinning a little too.
"Yeah," he allowed. "Stubborn, pigheaded, with a distressing tendancy towards pointlessly self-sacrificng noble gestures. I can see where you might have met somebody like that, alright."
"Those gestures do not seem pointless to them," the other murmured softly, the affectionate smile still in place. "Nor to me. They try so very hard not to let it show how they care, and then they spoil it by throwing everything away to protect you."
McCoy nodded, and patted their hands gently. "Yeah. I just wish they'd find a way to show they care that doesn't involve them ending up in here trying to tell me that walking out with a broken leg is really a very easy and necessary thing to do."
The big man laughed softly. "Indeed. That can be frustrating. But they are worth a little frustration. Or even a lot of it."
McCoy nodded. "I suppose. Wouldn't want to live without 'em, I guess. But don't you tell that pointy-eared hobgoblin I said so!" he huffed.
"Your secret is safe with me," the alien replied, absolutely straight-faced, and McCoy grinned.
"Listen, Mr ... damn it. What the hell are you called, anyway?"
"J'onn."
"John? That's a pretty ... human name, for a great green alien like yourself," Bones couldn't help commenting. J'onn tilted his head to one side, looking so serious that McCoy just knew he was hiding a grin.
"Apparently my Martian name is a little difficult for humans to pronounce."
"Right," he said, slowly. "Well, I'm Leonard McCoy, but mostly people call me doctor, or Bones. I guess McCoy must be a hard name to pronounce too." And he held out a hand, which J'onn mostly engulfed in his large green one.
"Pleased to meet you, McCoy," he murmured, with just the slightest emphasis on the name. Bones smirked at him.
"Likewise. You don't drink, by any chance, do you? Only, I've an appointment with Mr Scott and a very fine bottle, and since your friend here will be out for a while, and I doubt the rift's going anywhere, I wondered if you'd like to join us?"
J'onn tilted his head to one side consideringly. "I do not usually drink alcohol, no," he said, and Bones sighed a bit. He was a magnet for green, telepathic teetotallers. Just his luck. But J'onn smiled a little, possibly hearing the thought, and added: "However, if you'd happened to have some chocolate ..."
McCoy grinned. "I believe we can work something out, there. Shall we?" He gestured towards the infirmary doors, and J'onn nodded serenely, returning the grin.
