#mckirkcop

[jamest-kirk]

I'd love some McKirk with one of them being an author but gots absolutely no inspiration until he meets the other and it just works great from there. Idk, maybe some adventure or the tragic background story of the other?

Who knew that being a writer could be so utterly boring? Jim had gotten lucky in his life; writing at least two successful crime novels because he found his father’s journals and wrote them into stories. But then his third story is just not really happening at all. He can’t come up with original ideas; he tried finding more of his father’s journals, but to no avail. He’s just completely and utterly out of inspiration to write anything.

He doesn’t work very frequently. Jim has a steady income from royalties, but he likes to work in a local bar close to his father’s old precinct. Young police officers seem willing to tell their stories to him. Confidentiality be damned when they’ve had enough to drink. They’re a good lay, too. Especially after a good drug bust. All enthusiasm, pride and the kind of selfish love that’s perfect for one night.

Leonard isn’t one of those young cops. He’s a veteran, not usually interested in Jim’s company or sharing stories. Jim doesn’t think about it at first, until he sees Leonard in action. Jim’s in his bar, when it’s just opened and it’s still completely empty besides himself and the lone drunk sitting near the window. He’s cleaning up the glasses from last night when two men walk in. They don’t look like cops at all, and Jim frowns. Sure, living in New York, the bar sees tourists as well as occasional locals on Friday and Saturday night, but the bills here are paid primarily on the salaries of law enforcement of any kind. “What can I help you gentlemen with?” Jim asks, throwing them both a small smile. “We’re looking for someone,” one of the men says, sliding Jim a photograph of Leonard, “we’re hoping you could help us find him.” “I’m afraid I can’t hep you with that,” Jim replies, “how ‘bout a whiskey inst–” he’s cut off when the guy grabs his shirt and yanks him almost over the bar. Almost. “Maybe you should try remembering,” he says, and Jim narrows his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him,” Jim says. “See, that’s a real shame,” the guy replies, “because we know for a fact that he’s a local here. And you’re going to tell us everything you know.” He threatens, pulling out a knife and pressing it against Jim’s throat. Though suddenly the doors open, and Jim glances at Leonard walking into the bar. “Gents,” Leonard says, “how many times do I have to keep locking you up for it to be permanent?”  

Leonard kicks ass like an action hero from a movie, and Jim falls instantly in love with that. Leonard, the action, and the slightly unorthodox methods to knock the guys out. It costs Jim a bottle of Jack Daniels, and he dodges backwards when Leonard drags one of the guys over the bar and just pushes his face down into the dirty dish water. “Now, listen to me,” Leonard says, “I know you can hear me through that water, so you better listen. You come into my bar, pestering this handsome bartender here, you’re lucky I’m suspended. Now, I’m going to let you go, and you’re going to leave me the fuck. Alone.” Jim watches in awe, confused as to why Leonard would just let the guy go, but through the window, Jim can see them being immediately arrested by other officers. Not Leonard, though, so Leonard did technically let them go. Jim glances at Leonard with interest. “You think I’m handsome?”

The only thing Jim can really do is offer Leonard a free drink, which the other graciously accepts. Finally, Leonard talks. No more regard for confidentiality, because he’s suspended anyway. He tells Jim he was suspended for assisting a suspected terrorist, who Leonard was sure was an innocent man, and it’s something he’s still trying to prove. “Can I write about you?” Jim asks, feeling suddenly inspired, and Leonard frowns. “Excuse me?” “I’m a writer.” “You’re a bartender.” “I’m also a writer,” Jim explains. “Not a very good one, if you need a side job as a bartender,” Leonard replies, and Jim huffs. “Please?”

Leonard doesn’t initially agree. But Jim is very persuasive. And so, Leonard tells him stories. About his wife and kid, which isn’t exactly what Jim’s hoping for in terms of stories, but he writes them down nonetheless. Gives Leonard more character; and there’s something so oddly satisfying about getting to know Leonard more. Being close to him, watching him investigate this case by himself; being suspended doesn’t seem to actually stop him from doing police work. Jim follows him everywhere, work at the bar be damned. At least during the day, because at night he’s still there. Catching other people’s stories, though they’re not as fascinating as Leonard– nor does he feel the need as much to chase them down for one night stands.

Leonard goes pretty far in trying to find out the true villains behind a suspected terrorist attack. Jim if fascinated, but mostly worried about this man getting himself hurt, or killed. He doesn’t let Jim tag along on most of his visits. Actually, he doesn’t let him tag along on any of them. Jim just occasionally stalks him to write it all down anyway. Leonard pretends not to know, sometimes. Other times he yells at Jim for a while. At the end of the day, though, Leonard still sits with Jim in that bar. Sometimes, they sit at home. Either one’s homes work. Leonard’s apartment is small, though mostly tidy (aside from his desk). Jim’s flat is significantly bigger, but much messier. The first time Leonard comes over, he cleans Jim’s bedroom. Jim is incredibly uncomfortable about it. The second time that happens, a little less so. 

By the third time Leonard cleans up a little, Jim just treats him to a beer and a manuscript of his book. He curls up against him quietly while Bones reads, occasionally sipping on his beer. “You’re making me out to be some sort of superhero,” Leonard replies, “that’s not realistic at all.” Jim huffs at that, grabbing the script from Leonard’s hands. “I saw you rescue a little girl, taking down the perps with your bare hands because you had no gun available,” Jim counters, “and at any rate - you’re a superhero to me.” Leonard is silent for a few seconds, turning to look at Jim with a frown. “Are you flirting with me?” He asks, and Jim’s lips turns into a small smirk. “I have been for a while,” Jim says, “for such a smart detective, you’re very oblivious.” “You’re a terrible flirt,” Leonard says, “seriously, I’ve seen you take home some of my colleagues. You can’t be that bad.”

“I’m pretty good,” Jim says. He reaches out, fingers on Leonard’s cheek, smoothly shaved skin pleasant under his fingertips. “Pretty good, at what?” Leonard asks, “your writing is barely decent…” he adds, and Jim smiles when he’s slowly leaning in a little closer, “… you’re passably handsome…” “Passably?” Jim asks, pulling Leonard in even closer, “you’re so attracted to me,” he grins, smirk still present as Leonard kisses him. Gentle at first, but Leonard’s quickly pushing him back into the couch. Jim’s arms find their way around Leonard’s shoulders. Leonard humms against Jim’s lips, hands tugging at Jim’s shirt to take it off. “This isn’t gonna be in your stupid book, right?” “You kidding me?” Jim asks, his own hands moving down to tug at Leonard’s pants, “this is the best part!”

[jamest-kirk]

Do homeless Bones and Jim is the concerned stranger who keeps running into him.

The first time Jim meets Bones is when he’s on his morning jog through the park. He always rests at one particular park bench, and doesn’t even think twice about plopping down on it despite there being another person sitting, too. The other man glances at Jim with raised eyebrows. “There’s literally a whole park full of empty benches,” he says, and Jim shrugs, panting. “I like this one.” So, they sit in silence. Relatively, because Jim’s a heavy breather, especially when he’s panting. The stranger reaches out, handing Jim a water bottle. “Here, sounds like you need a sip.” “Oh, thanks,” Jim says, a little surprised. He takes the bottle, drinks until he’s satisfied, and then hands the bottle back. “I’m Jim, by the way.” “Bones.” “Bones? What kind of a name is that?” Jim asks. “It’s a nickname,” Bones replies, “because that’s all I’ve got left.”

The second time they meet is just outside a bar. It’s near freezing, and Jim regrets wearing just his police uniform and not much else. At least Bones seems to have a warm jacket. “Hey, stranger,” Jim says, throwing the other a smile. Bones frowns. “Do I know you?” Wow, rude. “Yes, we met in the park. You offered me your water.” “Ah,” Bones says, “yes. Hard to forget those eyes.” “What’s wrong with my eyes?” “Nothing. Very blue,” Bones replies, “so you’re an officer?” “Yeah,” Jim says, looking around, “I’m on the night patrol. You having a good time?” “Huh?” “At the bar,” Jim nods towards the entrance. A few people stand nearby, holding their drinks or smoking cigarettes. That’s so many laws broken right there. “Oh, yes,” Bones says, “sure. I’m having a great time.”

He keeps running into Bones all the time. Often in the park, sometimes just out on the streets. He always does make some small talk, though Bones never seems to be particularly interested. He shares his water with Jim, sometimes even his lunch. They’re mostly cheap sandwiches, but Jim’s grateful to take them and eat while they chat about their days. Bones is always outside, but Jim never thinks much about it.

Until he runs into Bones at midnight. He’s been told there is commotion near Harlem River Drive. When he gets there, there’s a group of homeless people all cornered together. “NYPD,” Jim calls out, watching all the people just separate and leave the moment he comes closer. Bones is sitting on the ground, covering over another guy lying on the cold ground. “Bones,” he says, kneeling down next to him, “what happened?” Bones looks up briefly, before focusing on the guy again. “He was stabbed,” Bones explains. “Let me call an ambulance,” Jim says, but Bones shakes his head. “No, they won’t come for the homeless.” Jim frowns, though that’s not exactly a surprise, it just seems wrong somehow. Bones seems to know what he’s doing, though, and so Jim stays on the ground next to him. “How can I help?”

Afterwards, Jim treats him to coffee in a small diner. He orders pancakes, too, and Bones eats them like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Should I drop you off at home afterwards?” Jim asks, but Bones shakes his head. “No.” “Why not?” “I don’t have a home,” Bones says. Jim listens to that, but it seems to take longer to process that news. “… what?” “Harlem River Drive, that’s my home.” “You’re not– you’re homeless?” “Yeah.” “Since when? You don’t look–” “Homeless? Not sure if there’s a specific look for that,” Bones says, “and I take showers, I have job interviews. Just… New York is expensive, and I’ve made some mistakes that left me without a job,” Bones explains. Jim listens quietly, then orders another set of pancakes. “I’ve been eating your sandwiches,” Jim concludes, and Bones huffs. “Yes,” he says, “it’s fine.” “It’s not fine, you don’t even have a home!” Jim counters, and Bones shrugs it off as casually as he can.  

Jim makes it a personal mission to go and look for Bones a lot. He always brings warm coffee and a bite to eat, and they just talk. Jim doesn’t really know a lot about homeless people, but it seems Bones just lost everything too shortly after each other to cope, and ended up on the streets. A neurosurgeon who lost his wife in a car crash, then custody over his daughter because he chose liquor as a coping mechanism, and then his job because he punched a patient in the face for spewing abuse at their partner. Jim feels for him, but Bones doesn’t want his sympathy. He seems happy enough, just going around shelters for food and a shower, and in return he performs medical checks on these people.

“It’s much simpler, now,” Bones explains. Jim’s gotten himself hurt, and rather than checking into a hospital, he gets Bones to patch him up. “There’s no social obligations, no bills to pay. I’ve been clean of any liquor for months now.” “That’s incredible,” Jim says, flinching a little when Bones cleans the cut on his cheek with disinfectant. "I mean, I couldn’t do it myself because I’d miss TV- do you miss TV?“ “No,” Bones says, “I miss my daughter.”

Jim goes out of his way to track her down. He finds Joanna in a temporary foster home and he just talks to her for hours on end. She’s just as incredible as her father. Tirelessly positive, and when Jim suggests it, she instantly agrees to go and meet him. When they do, and Jim watches Bones interact with Joanna, he decides that there’s just no way he can know both of these people and not help them.

“I have something for you,” Jim says next time they meet. He takes Bones to a quiet street in Brooklyn, and drags him into one of the buildings. “What is this?” Bones asks, looking around a small, near empty apartment. “I saved this guy a few months ago and he owed me a favor. Had this apartment empty for a while and we can get it for a decent monthly rent.” “We?” Bones asks, and Jim shrugs casually. “I need a new place, and I thought, why not share?” “You know I have no income,” Bones says. “You can get a job with a fixed address, and anyway I can afford to pay most of it for the time being,” Jim says. “I can’t accept this,” Bones says. “Please, don’t belittle yourself,” Jim says, reaching out to squeeze Bones’ shoulder, “you’re the most inspiring person I’ve ever met. And, if this is okay with you, I want to sign up for foster care and try to take care of Joanna, too. I want to help. Not because I take pity on you - because I don’t, but because I think you’re awesome.”

Bones is still outside way more often than most people would be. He ends up getting a job at a small clinic, but he spends at least an hour a day outside to help the homeless who otherwise can’t afford medical service. They don’t get Joanna in their foster care, either. Sometimes those things just don’t work as planned. On the bright side, though, she hangs out with them every Friday night. They have dinner, mostly cooked by Jim (or, really, mostly from takeouts), and then both Jim and Bones help her with her homework and they watch a movie together. “So,” Joanna starts one Friday evening, when the three of them are enjoying their dessert, “how long have you two been dating?” “What?” Bones asks, “oh, Jo, we’re not-” “We’re not dating,” Jim agrees quickly. Joanna frowns at that. “But you live together.” “I know but we’re not together together,” Bones says. “Well,” Joanna starts, finishing her dessert, “you should be.”

It’s a little awkward that night, because Jim’s mind is on Joanna’s words. Bones is quietly reading on the couch next to him, but Bones keeps giving him glances and Jim is very much aware of them. “Do you always breathe so loud?” Bones asks, and it catches Jim off guard. “You slept on the streets in New York, pretty sure you can deal with someone breathing,” he counters, grinning when Bones throws a pillow towards his face. “Hey,” Jim continues, more seriously, and he shifts closer to Bones, “I’ve been thinking.” “Oh, there’s something you shouldn’t do,” Bones says, and Jim huffs. “I’m serious.” Putting down his work, Bones looks at Jim. “What is it?” “Why aren’t we together?” He asks. Bones hesitates before answering “you never asked.” “What? How am I even supposed to know you’re interested?” Jim counters. “How am I supposed to know?” Bones replies. “I got you a freaking house to live in with me, I don’t think there’s a bigger gesture than that-” Jim starts, cut off by Bones leaning in to kiss him. Jim leans in, too, prolonging that kiss for as long as possible. “Okay,” Jim says slowly, a little breathless, “I guess that is a bigger gesture.”

[jamest-kirk]

I spent some time catching up on your mckirk headcanons and they always leave me with a smile! So I have one for you that's been running around in my head. Doctor Bones has just moved to San Francisco and becomes a regular at the bar where the detectives hang out and at first he's resistant to Detective Jim's attempts at conversations for days. They eventually talk and start falling for each other. One day Jim gets critically injured on the job and Bones puts him back together! Plus confessions!

San Francisco is horribly overrated. Sure, it’s beautiful, but the city center is so expensive. Bones is lucky enough that he can move in with childhood friend Sulu, otherwise he wouldn’t know how to get by. On the plus side, San Francisco is beautiful. The people are beautiful, and maybe slightly less cocky than those in Los Angeles.

Until he meets Jim. Over the past few weeks, Bones has been visiting this small bar. The beers are cheap, the music quiet, and the guests mostly stick to themselves. Which is great, because they all seem to be feds, cops, or otherwise law enforcement. Bones is glad they exist, but he doesn’t feel a particular need to get close. But then this cop sits down next to him, a few years younger than him. Not a rind on him, and a small smile that tells him he’s not used to people telling him no. “What’s your poison?” he asks, and Bones shrugs. “I don’t drink.” “You’re drinking a whiskey right now,” the cop counters. Bones glances at the other man. “That means I’m not interested,” he says. “In a drink?” “In you,” Bones replies. “Not yet,” the cop says, leaning back in his chair, “but you will be.”

He’s not wrong. Jim Kirk is very persistent. He tries to talk to Bones every week. Subtle touches, hands on Bones’ arm or shoulder, all something Bones shrugs off. He tries to just start a conversation, which Leonard usually ignores, but occasionally reacts to. And then there’s that time Jim has a nasty cut over his eyebrow, but he insists it’s fine. It keeps bleeding whenever he laughs, though, which is an awful lot and it shouldn’t be such a good look on him. “Sit still,” Leonard says eventually, reaching out over the counter of the bar for the first aid kit, and he ends up stitching him up right there. Tipsy or not, Bones can do these things blindfolded. “So, you a doctor?” Jim asks, trying his best not to frown or flinch when Leonard patches him up. “If you’d have asked about me instead of talking ‘bout yourself, you would’ve known,” Bones replies, and Jim huffs. “I asked plenty, you just never answered my questions,” Jim says. He reaches out to touch the cut over his eyebrow, but Bones slaps his hand away. “No touching.” “Only if you go on a date with me,” Jim says. “Why would I do that?” Bones asks, and Jim smiles. “Because I’m an expert on first dates.”

Again, Jim is right. He is an expert on first dates. He takes Leonard on a stroll through Chinatown, where they share spring rolls and coconut cakes. Bones finds out that Jim has such interesting stories to tell, and he knows exactly how to captivate people - be it with his stories, or those confident looks and long stares. At sunset, Bones finds himself overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, and they sit down looking out at the water together. Jim’s hand finds Bones’, and he squeezes it lightly. Leonard, instead, pulls his hand back after a little while. “So, on a scale from one to ten, how would you rate this date?” Jim asks, and Bones scoffs. “Really? You just dropped a few points there, by asking,” he says. Jim laughs, and when Bones turns his eyes to look at him, Jim leans in to kiss him. Rather than accepting that kiss, despite wanting that, too, Bones turns away. Denied, Jim almost looks a little insulted. Just briefly, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Not good enough, then?” Jim asks, and Bones frowns. “What?” “The date.” “The date is fine,” Bones says, “a little cheesy, but I’m sure that works on most people you take out.” Jim scoffs at that, but then looks at him sheepishly. “Yes.” “I thought so,” Bones says with a smile, “what do you do on a second date?” “I, uh, don’t.” “Don’t what?” “I don’t do second dates,” Jim admits. “You don’t– what?” “I said I was an expert on first dates,” Jim says, “I don’t do seconds.” Bones raises an eyebrow, gently patting Jim’s shoulders. “Keep digging,” he says, getting up from their spot, “it’s almost deep enough for your own grave.”

They don’t date again, after all, Jim doesn’t do seconds. And besides that, Bones is happy being just friends. After a messy divorce, and multiple failed relationships, Bones is happy being alone. Doesn’t need someone in his life, let alone a man. But he does text Jim all the time. From annoying patients, to Sulu’s fiance kicking him out of the apartment a lot - not with so many words, but when Sulu and Ben disappear into the bedroom is pretty much when Bones wants to disappear. It’s also when he’s looking forward to hanging out with Jim instead. He looks forward to seeing him all the time, hanging out either at their local bar getting into heated arguments, or yelling at the TV when football is on. They visit the movie theater together, and after some gentle persuasion, Bones joins Jim to the local gym and they work out together a couple nights a week. 

Part of him regrets not having kissed Jim when he had the chance, because Jim seemed to have moved on to ogling girls, guys, whatever else. Jim is easy to fall for; a handsome face, overall good guy, and just the right amount of cocky to be attractive. But there’s just no way Leonard’s ever going to act up on those feelings, he can’t. Until Jim gets hurt, and more seriously so than before. He doesn’t even make it to the bar, Bones catches him at work instead. Bones is just walking through the hallways of the hospital when Jim’s being brought in. Shot multiple times, and he’s on the brink of death for almost an entire week. Bones stays by his side; assisting in the surgery to pull him back. He would’ve done it himself, had Jim’s critical situation not completely and emotionally compromised him. 

Bones has other patients to tend to, so when he returns to Jim’s room, the detective’s staring at him with those big, blue eyes. Somehow brighter because of his pale face. “You’re awake,” Bones says, and Jim’s lips crack into a tired smile. “You must be a detective,” he replies, and Bones smiles. He sits down at Jim’s side, hand instinctively reaching out for Jim’s, and he squeezes it softly. “How are you feeling?” He asks. “Like I’ve been shot,” Jim replies. “Well,” Bones starts, “you’re not wrong.”

Jim’s pretty insufferable when he’s high on morphine. He’s talking more than usual, and Bones can’t even begin to keep up with conversation topics. One second, Jim’s talking about the fight that got him shot in the first place, and mid-sentence he’s somehow changed into talking about Uhura and Spock instead. There’s one thing he’s fairly consistent about, though, and that’s Bones. “You’re so beautiful,” Jim says out of the blue, hands severely messing up Bones’ hairdo. “Yeah?” Bones asks, small smile as he takes Jim’s hand away from his hair, and he presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Hm,” Jim hums in agreement, “I'ma marry you some day.” “I don’t do marriage,” Bones says, “been there, done that.” “But you haven’t done me,” Jim replies to that, surprisingly firm in his answers, but he dozes off to sleep just shortly after.

Bones moves in for a few weeks to help Jim get back up on his feet properly. It's also because Sulu's fiance is moving in, and he wants to give them space for a few days. Really, there's no place Bones would rather be than here, right now. Jim lounges on the couch in mild discomfort, but he tries not to show it. So rather than focus on the pain in his healing wounds, Jim turns to Bones instead. "Why didn't you kiss me?" "What?" "On our date. You turned away when I tried to kiss you." "That's ages ago," Bones laughs it off, but Jim looks at him expectantly. "I'm a gentleman, I don't kiss on the first date," Bones replies, and Jim rolls his eyes. "Bullshit, I've seen you take home people you met an hour prior." "Okay," Bones eventually says, "I don't know why I didn't. Part of me regrets it, but I'm glad we got to know each other like this. Casually." "Casually," Jim repeats, briefly glancing at the TV screen. He reaches out for Bones' hand, and he squeezes it softly. "You know, I meant what I said the other week," he continues, and Bones raises an eyebrow. "You realize you spoke almost non-stop the other week. Which part?" He asks. "I'm going to marry you someday," Jim repeats, turning to look at Bones, and there's not the slightest sense of humor  in Jim's eyes. Bones averts his gaze, but he shifts his hand so that his fingers slide between Jim's. "You know," Bones starts, "to marry me, you're gonna have to eventually go on a second date." Jim laughs, pulling Bones in closer. This time, when Jim tries to kiss him, Bones isn't rejecting. Jim kisses him softly, pulling the other in even closer until the weight on his chest starts getting painful on those wounds, and Bones pulls away the moment he notices. Jim 's still smiling, despite that. "Second date is way overdue, don't you think?"