as we wind on down the road

A/N: This fic is inspired by the fact that there's a whole wiki page on Trek for coffee and my desire to write some friendship and angst. Credit to Led Zeppelin for the title, of course. Betaed by Red Tigress and red_b_rackham (thank you dears so much for your hard work), and all mistakes belong solely to me.

Publishing my first piece of Trek fic! I hope y'all are proud. This one's got just about all of my favorite things - humor, angst, h/c, whump, grouchy McCoy, and dubious Spock. There's stuff that takes place before, during, and after each of the movies.

* * *

_as we wind on down the road_

* * *

"What's up, Doc?" one damnably happy voice was accompanied by a thump as its owner flopped down on top of a ridiculously uncomfortable mess hall bench.

"That line was old before we landed on the moon," Leonard McCoy groused back. He was sore. He was tired. He was filled with dread at the thought of his upcoming early morning PT session after a night shift at the Academy Hospital.

"Doesn't mean it's not a classic," came the reply. It was enough to make Leonard lift his head from where it had been buried in his hands before the unwarranted interruption.

Ah. That face seemed vaguely familiar, but Leonard was too tired to muster up any real enthusiasm he could use to match it to a name or class. He must have gone on for too long without a reply because the kid – blond hair, blue eyes, open expression – stood up abruptly and marched off.

Maybe Leonard would regret scaring off someone friendly (even if he seemed a bit of a wiseass punk) after he had gotten in at least one power nap.

Or maybe not. Being sociable would take away recuperation time.

Leonard flopped his head back into his hands. Really, he still wasn't sure why he'd even bothered to pretend he was considering breakfast. The doctor yawned, wincing as something popped in his jaw. He was getting too old for these all-nighters. Hell, he hadn't even liked them when he started pulling them late into his grad years.

Except there had always been a bright spot the morning after, Leonard recalled almost wistfully. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could almost smell the aptly-named 'jet fuel' he'd somehow managed to stomach.

It wasn't his imagination, he realized as he opened his eyes. The kid from before smiled rather sheepishly at him.

"I didn't know how you take it," he said. "So I just left it black."

Leonard eyed him suspiciously, then decided the other man – kid, his mind grunted – was much too young to be pulling some sort of hazing prank on him. As a doctor he seemed to be granted a pass to most of his younger peers' shenanigans.

He didn't have time to savor the taste – not that he would have. Leonard tossed it back, ignoring the voice that always sounded a bit too much like his mother that scolded him about the dangers of too much caffeine.

"Kirk, was it?" Leonard asked, catching sight of the name stitched on his Starfleet Academy uniform.

The kid looked downright joyous at being remembered, which Leonard would have considered sad if he'd taken the time to reflect on it.

"Kirk, James Tiberius. But it's Jim, really."

Thank God the kid didn't stick a hand in his face. Now he remembered where they'd met – the damned shuttle that had brought him here.

"McCoy."

"Yeah, you mentioned that," Kirk replied cheerfully. "You know, when you were trying to not throw up on me. You're going to be late if you don't leave now."

A second cup of coffee – half-emptied by Kirk, which made him think of all the bacteria he probably left behind – slid across the table towards him. Just for the reminder of that harrowing shuttle flight, Leonard had no guilt for taking it.

"Thanks kid," he said, draining the offered drink, grabbing his backpack, and racing out of the hall.

* * *

He didn't know that he'd drifted off to sleep until something prodded him in the side.

"I've already broken the Hippocratic Oath once," Leonard snarled. "Don't make me do it a second time, damn it."

"Huh?" Was it pathetic that the syllable was enough for Leonard to recognize that voice?

"What do you want," he was too tired to make that statement sound like a question instead of a threat. He didn't have time for his roommate's shenanigans when he could be sleeping.

"You slept through your rotation," Jim replied. "No - don't get up."

It was too late. Leonard had thrown himself away from the table so quickly his chair toppled over with him still in it. His head hit the tiled floor and he saw stars briefly. When he blinked, he found himself sitting upright, back propped against the table and Jim's face too close for comfort.

"Bones?" That nickname was enough for him to twitch and glare at Jim's concerned face. "That's it, I'm taking you back to the dorm."

"Can't," Leonard replied. "I have to stay here. We're understaffed and it's only going to get worse."

"Bones!" Jim sat back on his heels, and the stubborn look on his face made Leonard want to groan.

"I'm too tired to fight over this," Leonard snapped, pushing Jim's helping hand away.

"Look, Ivanov-"

"Doctor Ivanov," the correction was automatic.

"Doctor Ivanov, then – he told me what happened. It wasn't your fault."

"I know it wasn't."

"You do?" The look on Jim's face would have been comical if not for the situation. "Well, that's good, I guess."

"Can I go now?" No, he wasn't being petulant at all. There was a burning feeling in his chest and he wanted desperately to hit something. Talking was just making it worse.

Jim met his eyes, the kid seemingly weighing him. "Oh for-" a beat. "You're going to fall over. Stay here."

And before Leonard could protest, the kid winked out of sight, footsteps fading as he went. Leonard would have to seize his chance while Kirk was still occupied. Grimacing, he pulled himself up and grabbed his datapad, rubbing at the crick in his neck that gave him a sour reminder that he was much too old to be sleeping in deserted sections of the once over-crowded hospital cafeteria. He winced as he skimmed increasingly frantic and threatening messages from his shift supervisor, his CO, Kirk, and even Pike. Damn it, he didn't have time for what would surely result in a disciplinary hearing.

"I told you not to go anywhere," Jim snapped on his return. Leonard refused to be guilty about the datapad and satchel in his hand. "Here. Drink this. If you insist on staying, you'll need it."

_Coffee._ Leonard refused to acknowledge how his mouth watered at the sight.

"Caffeine will just-"

"Shut up and drink the damned coffee, Bones. You're going to drop from exhaustion if you don't."

"Who has the word doctor in their name, here?" Leonard demanded, but his traitorous hands had already put his satchel down in favor of taking the steaming coffee from Jim's hands.

"Doesn't matter, Bones," Jim said with obvious false cheer. "As the one not passing out in a closed cafeteria, my opinion trumps yours." More seriously, he added, "Working yourself to death won't help your patients."

"Don't have any, remember?" Leonard replied tersely before he could help himself. "They died from the outbreak two nights ago."

Jim's face softened somewhat as Leonard took another gulp of coffee. It was shitty – hospital coffee always was – but it wasn't as terrible as the Academy's sludge. That was something, at least.

"Bones-"

"Not now, Jim," God, he was tired. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was.

"I spoke to your supervisor," Jim added. "He's giving you the weekend off – apparently, some database error mixed up your schedule and added an extra shift."

He would have still been here anyway, Leonard knew. With the third-year in critical condition for the second day straight, he wouldn't have left. Not that it would have done the kid any good. End result was the same.

"Stop that," Jim chided. "I said it wasn't your fault and I can see you're blaming yourself. That's not going to help anyone."

Damn it, Jim was right. He _was_ blaming himself.

He felt… groggy. Something was not right, he thought as he took another sip of the bitter muck they tried to pass as coffee. Leonard frowned at Jim, who had the audacity to look innocent as he took the cup from Leonard's heavy hands.

"You…"

"You need sleep, Bones," Jim replied, not looking at all chagrined. "You can scold me for mixing a stimulant and a depressant later."

He was going to rip Jim a new one, Leonard decided grimly. He was going to pull out his textbook on medications and their side effects, and they were going to have a serious conversation about consent as well because –

He yawned, and was barely aware of Jim flinging Leonard's arm over his shoulders.

"I'm going to kill you," he slurred. "Screw the Hippocratic Oath."

Jim's laugh chased him down into sleep.

* * *

"Bones?" Jim's voice heralded his entry into Leonard's quarters.

The sound took him by surprise, even though it really shouldn't have. He hadn't seen Jim in a few days – not since he and Spock had brought Pike into his medbay. This was the first time Leonard had actually dared to sleep in his quarters, and apparently Jim hadn't wanted to come to the medbay.

"Just a minute," he said, kicking an old, bloody uniform out of his way as he left the bathroom where he'd been glaring at the circles under his eyes.

Jim took him by surprise. The kid looked… terrible, to say the least. If Leonard thought he was tired, he had to reevaluate his definition of the word upon seeing Jim's weary face.

"You busy?" Jim asked. Leonard gave him an appraising glance that took in the two worn cups in his friend's hands.

"Never too busy for coffee. You, sit," Leonard pointed at the desk in the corner of the room. Jim obediently sat in the sole chair, leaving Leonard to perch against the edge of the bed. He took the coffee gratefully – it was better than he expected, rich and full. "Where'd you get this?"

"Pike had one in the officer's quarters," Jim replied as he tasted his own. "I like the replicator stuff better, but the mess was crowded."

Translation: Jim had absolutely no taste in coffee and was going out of his way to avoid people. Sometimes Leonard just wanted to hit the kid.

"How's life on the bridge?" he asked instead of going at the matter directly. Jim had obviously come here to talk. About what, he had no idea.

Jim shrugged. "Pike chose well. Spock's a good commanding officer and the bridge knows it."

"How's Scotty managing?"

"He's one of the best engineers I've met," Jim admitted. "When we dock, he's promised to teach me a few tricks just in case." Instantly, Jim's expression went from just tired to a mix of tired and_ oh shit._

_Gotcha,_ Leonard thought but didn't say. "In case what?" he asked, keeping his tone free of any and all guile.

Jim saw right through him and took a quick sip of coffee. It was a delaying tactic, but Leonard was content to wait.

"I still have my disciplinary hearing when I get back," Jim said.

That was what he was worrying about? Five years ago, Leonard would have groaned. Now he just raised an eyebrow –_thank you Spock for that trick_– and sipped at his drink. Damn, he was going to have to get a coffeemaker like Pike's when they got ashore.

He said nothing, hoping Jim would try to fill the silence. At first, he resisted but eventually he spoke once more.

"Scuttlebutt says they may turn her over to Spock."

Leonard laughed outright at that. "Are we talking about the same Spock? He's a brilliant first officer, but he's no captain. The crew needs someone willing to believe in them. Spock may trust their competency, but he'll never understand how far faith can bring someone. They need someone willing to pull out all the stops even when it seems futile."

_They need to be inspired,_ he didn't add. Maybe Jim hadn't considered that, because he didn't reply immediately. Instead, he frowned at his mostly empty coffee cup.

"They gave me the casualty report earlier," Jim told him casually. "I'm going to read it at the shift change. The crew… they don't need a memo with a bunch of names. They deserve to hear it from me."

Leonard, luckily, had grown used to Jim's abrupt subject changes by now. Still, he flinched and silently damned the kid's mile-wide streak of nobility. Now that Leonard heard it, it was obvious this was why Jim came in the first place.

"You're right," he said at last when Jim began to shift uncomfortable. "They do."

Jim flinched, but Leonard wasn't quite done.

"That's why you're the best Captain for the Enterprise," Leonard continued. "Because you're willing to do exactly that."

Because no matter how obvious it was that it would tear apart Jim from guilt that he couldn't save everybody, he wanted to do it anyway. Because Jim was right – the crew needed to hear it from him.

See? Leonard could do the whole peptalk thing.

They finished their coffee among scattered, unrelated conversations. Leonard felt little obligation to fill each silence with words – it was comfortable between the two of them even when it was quiet.

And later, when Jim's breath hitched in the middle of the list and he paused for a beat, Leonard from his position at the peripheral of the bridge nodded silently at him. Jim finished the list (it was too long, Nero had dealt far too many casualties) and fell silent. It was still quiet as Leonard made his way back to the medbay, the crew somber and still after the lengthy list had been read. It was Pike that broke the silence in Leonard's infirmary.

"He's going to make a good Captain," the man said.

Leonard nodded. "He just needed to realize it."

* * *

"I lost the Enterprise," Jim said when Leonard sat down beside him.

"Is that why you're avoiding the crew?" Leonard asked wryly. This time, he was the one to place the coffee between the two of them. "Wanna talk about it?"

Jim took the mug from the table, cupping it between his hands and glaring at it as though the coffee had committed some grievous ill against him. "Yes. No. I don't know," he said finally. "I'm pissed at Spock."

"It's Spock. What did you expect?" Leonard said without malice. "It's different for him. Vulcans don't do the lying thing well."

"I just…" _thought he was different_ goes unsaid. Jim didn't trust lightly and Leonard knew he was proud of his skills at judging others. To be taken by surprise by Spock of all people probably stung. Jim took a sip of the coffee and pulled a face. "What did you put in this? It's weird."

"It's quality French Vanilla," Leonard replied. "Although I suppose you'd have preferred the low quality standard replicator crap."

Jim grinned. "I'll miss that stuff."

"You're leaving Starfleet?"

"No," Leonard hadn't thought that was what he meant, but there had still been a spike of worry. "Pike said I'll have to work my way back up. I don't know how far down he's going to send me."

Leonard glared at his own empty mug of coffee. When Jim noticed, he slid his own barely touched mug over to him and stood up.

"I'm going to find some alcohol."

_And a bar fight_, Leonard added sourly as he stood as well.

"Don't do anything you'll regret in the morning," Leonard ordered. "I'd come, but-"

"Your daughter's coming early tomorrow. You better bring her by."

Leonard smiled and picked up both empty mugs. "Don't wallow, kid," he said. They both knew he was likely wasting his breath. If Jim was still in a funk come tomorrow, he'd look at taking more serious measures. Still, Jim usually had to go through one major sulk before moving on.

Except things didn't get better. Leonard did see Jim the next day, but it was with a tricorder in hand in the grim aftermath of Pike's death. Jim was still angry, still bitter over the turn of events with good reason. Now, however, he had a target to focus his wrath on and they'd be damned if they tried to get in his way.

* * *

"I brought you that shit you like to drink," Leonard said as he entered the quiet room.

Jim didn't reply as Leonard half sat, half collapsed into the unoccupied chair beside his bed. It had been a long week and a half since Khan, and it was only now that he had the chance to sit and breathe. Quietly, he put two cups on the table between the two of them.

"It's all on you," he told Jim's still body. "As usual, I'm waiting on you to pull it together."

He was also possibly slightly inebriated, but he was also off duty tonight and the coffee would help sober him up. Leonard took another drink, glaring at Jim.

"This stuff tastes like shit," he said, half-waiting for Jim to laugh and agree and say that was the point. "I shouldn't even be drinking this. My nine-year-old daughter lectured me on the side effects last time I saw her."

_But Bones, the only side effects of coffee are increased alertness and happiness,_ the voice in his head that sounded like Jim mocked him quietly.

Leonard wanted to yell. He wanted to bring Khan out of cyro just to beat him to death. He wanted to scream at Chekov for letting Jim be so fucking noble. He wanted it to be him on the bed instead of Jim.

He did none of those things, of course. Idly he checked Jim's stats. They looked the same as they did the last ten times he looked at them.

"We might get your five year mission," he said, and how cliché was it that he was talking to a guy in a coma? "God, five years in space. I can't believe I let you talk me into that. Did you know…"

And he proceeded to tell Jim about all the terrible things that could (and knowing their luck, probably would) befall them in space. He brought up case studies and mission files from early explorations, grumbling about numerous disasters and near disasters.

Maybe if he talked enough, some sense of self-preservation would seep into the kid's thick skull.

* * *

"Spock, Bones is yelling at me," Jim whined as the first officer passed by the medbay's open door.

The Vulcan paused, appearing to consider whether it was worth ignoring Jim. Apparently not, because he turned with obvious defeat and entered the room.

"I'm not yelling!" Leonard shouted, then covered his face with a hand as he realized he was, in fact, yelling. "Not a word," he growled as Jim snickered.

"What have you done to anger Doctor McCoy?" Spock asked Jim, a clear _this time_ hovering at the end of the query.

"Who says I did anything?" Jim asked from his place in his infirmary bed.

"Although Doctor McCoy is highly emotional, he generally possesses a reason for his outbursts."

"Outbursts," Jim wheezed through his laughter.

Oh god, he was being teased by a _Vulcan_. Would it be too much to hope for someone to kill him now?

"If you're going to stay, have some coffee," Leonard grunted at last.

Spock's eyebrows moved in what was probably vague surprise. "Doctor?"

"Coffee. You know, old earth, black gold-" Jim provided.

"I'm pretty sure that was oil," Leonard corrected.

"It was definitely coffee," Jim called after him as Leonard moved from his position by the bed to go to the replicator.

Juggling three mugs was difficult, but not impossible. As he sat down, he distributed them. Jim drank the crap almost blissfully, but Spock just stared dubiously at it.

"Jim thought he could sneak out with his broken ribs to go manage the bridge," Leonard finally answered Spock's original question.

"Captain, that is absolutely-"

"If you're going to scold me, you have to drink the coffee," Jim interrupted.

Spock looked from Jim to Leonard and apparently realized they were serious. He must have remained dubious, for he said, "Captain, I do not understand the relevance of... this coffee to your conversation. Consuming such a beverage-"

"Spock?" Leonard interrupted when it appeared Jim was going to start laughing again, which would do his ribs little good.

"Doctor McCoy?"

"Shut up and drink your coffee, Commander Spock," Jim grinned.

Spock gave Leonard a mild expression (which was the closest to _what the fuck_ that he'd probably ever get out of the Vulcan). Leonard nodded solemnly at him in reply.

Spock sipped at the coffee, and Jim shushed him when he made a face and looked like he was about to speak. "It's entirely reasonable for me to want to oversee the bridge."

"Not with broken ribs, it's not!" Leonard replied tersely. "Don't play innocent, man. I've known you for years. Spock?"

"The doctor does have a point, Captain," Spock inserted. "You have clearly shown a tendency for getting involved in problematic situations."

"Et tu, Spock?" Jim sighed. Leonard shared a conspiratorial glance with the first officer (at least, he considered it conspiratorial. Spock might have been looking his direction.)

Spock didn't get to wherever he'd been heading before. Instead, he stayed and conversed with the pair of them. If his coffee went cold, then Jim and Leonard considered it was work in process.

* * *

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