Gelsey (gelsey) wrote,
Gelsey
gelsey

Fic: De-Nial Runs Through Russia

Title: De-Nial Runs Through Russia
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating/Warnings: R for language, slash, and domestic abuse
Word Count: 386
Characters: McCoy/Chekov
Prompt: From st_xi_kink: McCoy/Chekov, established relationship - domestic violence, codependency. McCoy only hits him when he's drunk. Trouble is, these days he's hardly ever sober. Bonus points if you end with why Chekov always stays: McCoy's sorry when he's sober, they really do love each other, Chekov's too young to know any better, whatever.
Summary: He's sorry, so sorry. Always so damned sorry.


He's sorry, so sorry. Always so damned sorry. Tracing the bruises with those long fingered hands, soothing away the hurts. Hurts that, Pavel always manages to forget, he gave with those same damned hands.

Pavel closes his eyes as those competent hands brush across his face, which is unmarked--this time. Leonard (some days Pavel thinks no one but he calls the doctor by his real name) is gentle now, and lips brush over his. There is still the lingering taste of alcohol, but he isn't drunk right now. No, this is the tiny, closet-sized space of time after the man is finished being hung over and before the drinking starts again for the day.

The young man leans into the kiss, needy, silently screaming for reassurance. If people knew, they would tell him to leave, but he cannot leave. No, he loves Leonard 'Bones' McCoy. And Leonard loves him, or else he wouldn't be this damned sorry. He only hit him when he was drunk.

Pavel doesn't let himself think that these days, his lover is almost always drunk. He shuts up the knowledge in the deepest recesses of his brilliant mind. De-nial, it apparently ran through parts of Russia as well.

"Love you." The words were gruff but Pavel welcomes the feel of the utterance against his skin. Gentler than fists, perhaps closer to the smoothing effects of sandpaper. He needed to hear them.

The love-making is slow and almost completely enjoyable--he makes no mention of how uncomfortable the bruise on his back makes him. This is enough for him, he tells himself. This gentleness is why he stays.

He goes to work not long afterward, gets lost in the job and his equations and is late to get back because he lost track of time. (No, nyet, nyet, not his mind procrastinating walking in the door. Never that.) The first punch isn't as much of a surprise as Pavel pretends it is, and the apologies poor out of his mouth, in English, in Russian, in Polish and in others. Sorry he's late, sorry he forgot, sorry he was busy.

Tears soak the pillow after Leonard passes out, and eventually Pavel goes to sleep. The morning is slow, Leonard takes painkillers for his hangover, and he's sorry, so sorry. Always so damned sorry.


A/N: Not a pairing a really care for, but the angst demon grabbed at me and I had to do it.
Tags: star trek, writing
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