#james t. kirk x leonard mccoy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sprite-writes · 10 months

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failed romantics

Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Reader (original female character)

Summary: Secrets can’t be kept forever, and what better time to reveal them than the Enterprise night shift.

Word Count: 5,902

A/N: yay another chapter!! I have been so excited to write this one since I started this series, I hope you all like it. As always very special thanks to @lightning-writes without them these chapters would literally never get finished LOL immediately after finishing this plz go check out their bucky series; good heart (faulty machine of a man) it kills me in the best way. anyways, thank you for reading plz like + comment if you enjoyed :)

Leonard can only barely make out Kirk’s face under the dim bulb, but he is pissed enough that Jim’s mug is the last thing he wants to see. The music is loud, so goddamn loud , loud enough that the whiskey did nothing for his headache.

“This is not what I had in mind when you said you knew a place,” he yells over the music, staring down the side of Kirk's face.

“What?” the captain calls back, still oblivious to Leonard's scowl. Kirk is absent, completely distracted by the crowd, more specifically the women . His gaze filters from person to person as they pass by the table, a dumb smile on his face the entire time. If steam could come out of Leonard’s ears, it would.

“I said this isn't what I had in mind for tonight.” He reaches across the table and firmly flicks his friend’s temple.

“Hey! What's your problem?” Kirk whines. Leonard is satisfied to have gotten his attention—finally.

“You said you knew a nice place– you said it was a bar!”

“Yeah and? This is both of those things!”

“This is a goddamned petri dish!”

It is. Leonard has refused to even allow his bare skin to touch the tabletop, weary of the unknown sticky substances covering it. There are so many bodies— human and otherwise— packed into the space, it's suffocating, and certainly a fire hazard. It's gross, downright unsanitary, and fucking loud.

“You’re dramatic, Bones, it's nice enough. Loosen up! Maybe try to meet somebody. We’re only in Yorktown for a day, y’know?”

Tipsy Kirk is a fucking idiot.

Leonard recoils at the idea. The captain has gained this…habit lately. This advice-giving habit where he tells Leonard to relax, to get out there, to get laid, and every time it passes through Kirk's lips, Leonard becomes nauseous. He abhors this subject, he really does. The only thing he hates talking about more than his dating life is why he doesn’t have one. Sure, he hasn't had much of one since the divorce anyway, but whatever he did have quickly reduced to nothing after meeting Sunshine. He feels so childish even mulling his thoughts over, and how it feels pointless to consider any other woman interesting since he has already met Sunshine, who is the most interesting. Interesting and pretty. Interesting and pretty and kind. He shakes his head before he starts down his mental list (again). Somedays, it feels like his feelings will swallow him whole. It has been so long since he felt it, the wanting . Wanting to talk to her all the time, or hold her hand, or just be around her. It all makes him feel so juvenile, like he’s a lovesick teenager. She makes him feel like a lovesick teenager. It is the single most frustrating thing he’d ever experienced.

“I don't wanna associate with anyone who willingly steps foot inside this shithole,” he snaps, “C’mon man, let's go.” Kirk protests, of course, even more so as Leonard grabs him by the ear and pulls him up from the chair. He tells himself he’s doing Kirk a favor, that the last thing he needs is a hookup— that he’s certainly not taking out his frustrations on his friend.

The pair weave through the bodies, with Kirk stumbling after his friend and out the door. The cool breeze hits them like a breath of fresh air, and Leonard takes it in. Kirk, on the other hand, furiously rubs his reddened ear.

“What the hell was that for? Are you out to get me tonight?”

Leonard feels a quick pang of sympathy, regretting lashing out.

“Look, I’m sorry, but that place had me sweating like a damn sinner in church, there’s other bars, and it's getting late anyways–”

Kirk would usually push it, and Leonard could tell he wants to, which makes him all the more thankful he doesn’t.

“Fine, fine, whatever but we are drinking when we get back to the ship,” he settles, leading the way home.

Yorktown is cold and downright industrial. Leonard hates it. He would usually be thankful for a pit stop if it means he can feel non-artificial gravity, but, between the dirty club and Kirk’s antagonizing, he’s ready to be spacebound again. Both the Enterprise and the USS Endeavor are in Yorktown for the night, in the process of a personnel transfer. The streets are crawling with Starfleet members.

They walk in silence for most of the way, observing the larger-than-life city and the star crafts buzzing overhead. Leonard would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel a bit empty. Perhaps the low-lit, music-blaring monstrosity would have felt more tolerable if a certain lieutenant was with him and not stuck with the enterprise night crew.

“You know, I wouldn’t have even known that place existed if it wasn’t for Sunny,” Kirk laughs. Leonard scrunches his nose.

“She recommended that barnyard?” he scoffs.

“Oh god no, she told me to stay away from it. Said it was the grimiest place on this side of the universe. I just thought it sounded like a good time, y’know?”

Leonard stares, really stares, and wonders why he keeps expecting better of Kirk.

“You’re an idiot, and an ass. The woman gives you stellar advice, and you ignore it, and stick her with the skeleton crew.”

Kirk stops so abruptly, that Leonard stumbles over him.

“ I didn’t put her on the skeleton crew, she requested to be. You think I would make her work more than she already does? I’m not a tyrant, Bones.”

What?

“What?” Leonard says out loud. “Why would she ask to be holed up on the enterprise all leave?”

“I mean, I would too if the alternative was running into my ex and all his coworkers.”

Kirk laughs, Leonard’s head spins.

“Her ex?”

“Yeah her— she didn’t tell you any of this?”

“She said she wanted Jameson to oversee the transfer, give him more experience or something, so you put her on his night shift.”

“No? She wanted Jameson to do it because she used to be engaged to the Endeavors head of security.”

Leonard blinks. And blinks again.

“Dude, I don’t even know how to change the schedule,” Kirk adds.

Suddenly, despite talking to her everyday for close to a year, she feels unfamiliar. Engaged? He can hardly imagine it, nor does he want to. Pictures of Sunshine flash through his mind, and he clenches his fist.

“Didn’t know she had been engaged,” he feigns a casual tone.

Kirk furrows his brows.

“ You didn’t know? You of all people?” Leonard shrugs, as his stomach forms a knot. “She tells you everything, and she’s never mentioned Ryder?”

“Christ, his name is Ryder ?”

“I know! Douchebag name, right?”

He doesn’t respond for a beat, which turns into several beats. The gears in his head turn and turn. Engaged . He doesn’t understand why the idea eats at him. He himself had been married for years. So what if she was engaged? There is no reason for him to be upset that his friend—a coworker–had an ex.

He feels nauseous.

Kirk clears his throat, derailing Leonard's train of thought.

“You’re right, it’s late, we should head back,” he says, offering a reassuring smile. Leonard follows him, hands in his pockets.

“Do y’know what happened?” he asks finally. Kirk casts him a sideways glance.

“What, between them? Not a clue,” Kirk says with sincerity enough for Leonard to believe it. “She wasn’t really keen on discussing it.” He pauses and looks at the ground as they walk. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it though, Bones, I think everyone sees she’s only really got eyes for one person these days.”

“Don't start, Jim,” Leonard warns hotly, clenching his jaw.

“Start what? I’m not starting anything. I’m just laying out the facts.” Jim hiccups. “She adores you, man, like adores -”

“Sunshine ‘adores’ everyone she meets. We’re friends—good friends, but that's all.” His patience shrinks as his annoyance grows.

Jim laughs mirthlessly.

“No, Sunshine and I are good friends. Whatever you two are is something else entirely-”

“Anyone ever tell you you don't know when to shut up?” His tone is as cold as the night air, and Jim shuts up.

Leonard wishes Kirk would drop the subject, trip over a rock, or whatever it took to never have this conversation again. Really—what he truly wants is for everyone to stop dangling this hope in front of his face like a carrot. He’s not an idiot, he knows he spends more time with the lieutenant than his colleagues, hears her laugh more often, and knows her habits better.

He knows what it looks like. He also knows that he's a bitter emotionally closed-off divorcee—

He tells Jim that Sunshine is his friend because she is—and he denies wanting anything more because It's stupid to want things out of his reach.

Frustration heats his cheeks and begins to bloom into a headache. He knows Kirk means well, but that fact does little to comfort him.

“Alright, I’ll drop it,” Kirk surrenders, his voice soft. “But there is one last thing you should know,” He pauses at the crosswalk and turns to Leonard. Eerily stoic, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Leonard's breath hitched.

“Ryder’s got nothing on you in terms of looks, okay? Seriously he's like, 5’7, and his face isn't at all symmetrical-”

Leonard revs up and smacks Kirk in the back of the head harder than he ever had and feels no regret. Not even after Kirk's high-pitched “ Ouch!”

“Would you quit it! You gossip like a damn schoolgirl!”

The sign blinks at them to walk, and Leonard drags Kirk across the street, fingers digging into his arm.

“Ow, ow, I was just saying-“

“Wait a minute,” Leonard lets his friend go and smooths down his sleeve. “How do you know what he looks like anyway?”

Kirk puts himself at a safe distance from the Doctor, cradling his arm. “Well, the operations manager would usually talk to the department heads during a transfer, but Sunshine passed him off to me. I said no at first, obviously, because I hate managing, but then she finally told me she was almost Mrs. Ryder Denver. So yeah, I spoke with him a few times, just business. Have to say though, I couldn't imagine them together. He comes off as a bit of a douche.”

Leonard breathes deeply, reigning in the emotions that he doesn’t need Kirk to pick up on. The idea of Sunshine being engaged does enough to unsettle him without knowing that the man in question “ came off as a douche” . He feels something boil under the surface.

“Yeah?” is all he can strangle out.

“Yeah—He’s like a classic douchey security buff,” Kirk continues, unaware of his friend's white knuckles. “You know the kind– uptight, condescending, has one earring and thinks it's edgy-”

“Wears their uniform a size too small? Yeah, I know the type.”

“Exactly, and Sunshine is so…so-”

“Heart-of-gold?”

“Yeah! Opposites attract I guess, but I don't know, something was off.”

To Leonard, the entire thing is off. All of it. Everything . He doesn’t understand why Sunshine decided he doesn’t get to know, why it is a secret in the first place, why she almost married a douche, why he cares so damn much .

The enterprise comes into view like the sun on the horizon, and Leonard is relieved .

“Your arm’s all right?” Leonard asks, an apology without apologizing. Jim knows this and breathes a laugh.

“Yup, the ear’s fine too.”

The Doctor nods, but his eyes remain trained in front of him. Through the glass window panes, he eyes the ship, eager to hide away in the familiar place. He would have opened the door for Kirk, as a gesture, but of course, the Yorktown Federation Port has to have automatic doors. He huffs, and the artificial lights illuminate his red cheeks. They approach their home in silent tandem, their shoes clinking against the hard floors.

“You should talk to her, Bones,” Kirk breaks the quiet, head down while he taps the access code to the enterprise hull. “Ask her why she didn't mention the ex. I’m sure she has a good reason, probably one you'll wanna hear.”

Leonard wants to be mean. He wants to shake Kirk's words off with an insult and go to bed. But he swallows his pride, and it goes down like nails.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Hope. It bubbles up within his chest, and he pushes it down. Finally, the stark white enterprise interior greets him. He breathes a little easier.

Kirk stumbles over the first step— “ Woah ”-- and Leonard steadies him with a raised eyebrow. “Andorian ale finally catching up with you?”

“Pfft,” Kirk scoffs. “Couldn’t catch me if it tried.”

Leonard pauses, then laughs, the first genuine one all night, and it has Kirk grinning back.

The enterprise is empty, its residents still on the streets they just returned from. So, without restraint, they laugh, and Kirk stumbles, and Leonard forgets for a moment about the unsaid feelings under his skin.

Kirk is an idiot, and he’s a good friend.

He’s happy to banter about whatever comes out of Kirk's drunk mouth and to correct him when he takes a wrong turn in his own ship. Leonard claps his hand on his shoulder and drawls, “It’s this way, captain .”

“Uhh, no , Chekov keeps the good whiskey in his locker, this way,” Kirk insists with a point down the hallway, and Leonard is amazed at his eagerness to get blacked out the night before embarking.

“Are you out of your mind? No way. You can drink like a fish when you don't need to fly a starship in the morning.”

“What are you, my mom ?”

Christ.

“No, but I pity the poor woman,” he huffs and gestures down the hallway leading to his quarters. Kirk frowns and scrunches his nose.

“Raincheck, Kirk, c’mon.”

He begrudgingly obliges, having given his friend a hard enough time tonight anyway. The yawn that crawls out of his mouth a moment later corroborates Leonard's decision. He is tired, and Kirk shouldn't drink anymore, but he’d be lying if he said those were his only motives to end the night early.

“You win this one, Bones, but next time I swear we'll be out till sunrise,” he says between another yawn and a hiccup.

“Uh-huh. Try not to trip.” Leonard reminds himself of the virtue of patience and keeps walking.

Kirk manages to type in his room's access code all by himself, with only a moment of squinting, and a break to roll up the black sleeves of his turtleneck. Leonard is impressed, and the bar is low.

“Drink a bottle of water, and get some sleep, We’ll talk tomorrow.” he crosses his arms over his chest and waits for protest.

Kirk only hums. “You headed to your room?”

The doctor's fingers drum against the doorframe. “Was thinking I’d check in on Sunshine,” he says, blinks, and rushes out, “and the rest of the Skeleton crew, of course. Maybe medbay too, then I’ll hit the hay.” He fleetingly wonders if that sounds believable, or at least casual.

Kirk smiles a genuine smile. “Sounds like a good plan, Bones. See ya in the morning, and tell her I said hi .” Before he can react, his friend waves, and the door slides shut. Then, he’s alone in the hallways, and he has to put his money where his mouth is.

Shit .

The way to the bridge feels daunting now, like climbing Everest. Like climbing Everest with the shittiest rope ever. Like climbing Everest with the shittiest rope ever, several pounds of emotional baggage, and a Starfleet captain breathing down his neck. He considers just going to bed, pretending he never even mentioned the whole thing. Maybe even pretend he doesn't care to get answers. He can just leave it be.

The desire to see her trumps all of it.

The halls are deserted, which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t need anyone around to watch him squirm in the elevator. A deep breath, a punch of the open elevator button and—

“I told you I don't have any threes! Go fish, again .”

He sees the back of the captain's chair first, then Starfleet-issued black boots hanging off of it. The whoosh of the door draws the attention of the room to him. Eyes sweep through the vaguely familiar faces of the night crew, all six staring at him like they are waiting for an explanation, which he doesn’t really have. The heeled black boots plant themselves on the ground, the captain's seat swivels around. His heart works double time.

“ Leonard ? Hi! What are you doing here?”

Sunshine’s got a hand of cards between her pointer and her thumb, and a sweatshirt pulled over her uniform dress, and it distracts Leonard for longer than it should. He clears his throat, and it shakes loose the feelings stuck there.

“Just thought I'd check in on our hard working night crew, who is surely on task.” He descends the bridge steps.

“Well, then, you'll be happy to hear that I am, in fact, glancing at my station every 20 minutes, and I’m the undefeated go-fish champion.”

She waves the cards at herself like a fan, legs crossed and smile wide.

“Undefeated, huh? Glad to see your talents going to good use.” Her smile gets a bit brighter, and she does a quick breathy laugh with her nose. For a moment there's quiet, and Leonard begins scrambling for a way to ask her the thing he wants to ask her. The bridge is crowded, for a skeleton crew, he thinks. The redshirt to Sunshine’s left breaks the silence before he can.

“I’m not sure if I’d call it talent…I’m pretty sure she's cheating,” they grumble, and Sunshine doesn't spare a moment, whipping the chair around. He can almost see the panic fill her eyes, like she’s just been accused of a heinous crime.

“I’m not! Are you still thinking about that last round? Because that was—”

Even Leonard winces a bit at her shrill tone, and he’s pretty sure she just woke the navigator who had fallen asleep at his station, so he claps his hands on her shoulders.

“Sounds to me like this card game has you wound like a spring,” he interrupts her before her voice jostles anyone else awake.

She pouts, lip jutted out and everything.

“Let's go for a walk,” he suggests. He doesn’t even let his nerves talk him out of it. She looks at him curiously, her eyebrows drawn.

“I dunno, I probably shouldn’t leave…”

“I’m sure someone else can deal cards while you’re gone,” he tells her, already offering his arm.

The Ensign, Leonard still doesn’t know their name, waves her off. “Go, Lieutenant, It's fine. I’m sure we can handle a few minutes without you.”

She bites her lip and cautiously loops her arm around his, leaving the captain's chair to her subordinate.

“Alright, but don’t start a new game without me,” she warns lightly.

Leonard doesn’t get nervous with her arm looped around his, really he doesn’t. He’s headfirst into this thing now, no room for nerves.

She drinks her whiskey neat, he learns, and it surprises him. Surprises him even more when she downs it like a shot.

The walk there had been quiet mostly, except for when Sunshine regaled the stories of her card game wins.

“Did you have a nice time with Kirk?” she asks politely.

“I dunno if I’d say that, but maybe Jim would disagree.”

She laughs lightly, and her finger traces the lip of the whiskey glass. He doesn’t know if it’s the best idea, but he refills her cup.

There is a beat of silence, and the conversation with Kirk pushes to the front of his thoughts. There's a heaviness on the tip of his tongue, the desire to ask why . Without really knowing how to.

“Wish I could’ve gone with you guys,” she says, her gaze downcast. There's a rare melancholy to her tone, something vulnerable woven into it.

“You could’ve,” he tells her, and her eyes pull from the table.

“I had--”

“Yeah, I know what you– I just mean–I’m sure Kirk would have given you the night off if you asked… God knows he owes you enough favors.”

“I guess,” she shrugs, “it wasn’t really the best night for it, though.”

He could go along with her lame excuse, vaguely agreeing that, yeah, there will be other nights. But the ache to know what exactly goes on in her pretty head has words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, Kirk mentioned somethin’ like that,” he mumbles, nerves permeating the sentence.

“...what?”

Shit.

“I mean, he may have-”

“What exactly did he mention?” Her tone holds a sharp undercurrent of something rare for Sunshine– anger.

Leonard runs a hand down his face, suddenly thinking of all the much more tactful ways he could have begun this. The gentle buzz of alcohol still in his bloodstream keeps him from panicking.

“Nothing terrible, just that there was someone in town you wouldn’t wanna see.”

“As if ,” she scoffs. “Kirk’s never been that vague in his life.”

“…fair enough.”

She groans miserably, fitfully pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and burying her face in the fabric.

“You were not supposed to find out like this,” she says, muffled.

“And how was I supposed to find out?” He asks quietly, like the question will frighten her away.

A sniffle comes from behind her hands–the sound tugs at his heart.

“ I don't know. Maybe someone could have told you when I’m dead and then we’d never have to have this conversation.”

He reaches for her slowly, taking her wrists in a gentle hold and pulling them away from her face, revealing her reddened nose and watery eyes. Her hands are cold, and grow stiff under his touch.

“Sunshine. It's an ex , not a damn intergalactic scandal. There are worse conversations to have,” he reasons.

“You don't get it,” she tells him matter-of-factly, pulling her hands from his touch. Embarrassment quickly heats his body, and he wipes his palms on his pants.

“I’d get it a lot more if you talked about it.” He flexes his jaw, frustration bleeding into his voice.

She narrows her eyes, punctuating her glare with a sniffle.

“If I wanted to talk about it, I would’ve.”

“With Kirk? Because he seems to get it.”

“Why are you acting so—”

“Concerned? Oh, I dunno because you’re my friend?” Exasperation colors his tone.

“I was gonna say entitled,” she grits out. Her anger comes out half-heartedly, sounding more like watery sadness than anything. “I don't tell you everything, and I don't have to. You’re not my-” She sighs. “Why does it matter? I was engaged for like, a year, and now, I’m not.”

You’re not my–

Her half sentence sticks in his mind and sends blood rushing to his head. He thinks of all the things that he is to her: a colleague, a doctor, a friend. All the things he isn’t feels like a gaping hole.

He watches her clench her fists and force her tears back.

“It matters because it upsets you enough to work the night shift,” he sighs, the anger he’s been holding seeps out of his hands like water. “I’m not pressing you for the latest gossip, Sunny. I’m asking because it would be lousy of me not to.”

She says nothing, taking in his words.

“I’m no stranger to this stuff, y’know,” he prods her gently. “My ex-wife sent me running all the way to space .” He says lightly, and the corners of her mouth twitch up briefly.

“He didn't send me running, I sent him,” she confesses, shaking her head.

“ You ?”

“Me. The thing is,” she shrugs, “it should have worked, y’know? Like on paper, it was perfect. Ryder and I were academy sweethearts, liked all the same shit, were top of our classes, blah, blah, blah.” She rolls her eyes. “Our friends used to tease us, say that it wasn't fair, and we were too in love.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” she says, sighing. Her eyes drift nowhere in particular. “It didn’t feel nice after a while though. It felt suffocating. I was half a person with him, we were Ryder and Sunshine–and that was one entity.” Her tears dry on her lashes, as she becomes entrenched in the memory.

“But the person we were wasn’t me . Because he never thought my jokes were funny, or my hobbies were interesting or my friends were cool, so I was willing to throw them all out. Eventually all that was left was him. His ideas, his wants, his needs. I was backed into a corner. I should’ve left when I realized but I loved him… and I was really scared of being alone.”

She pushes her hair behind her ears and lets out a shaky breath.

“I was a coward, and I couldn’t leave. I wanted to try and fix it, figure out who I was, and then maybe Ryder could love that person,” She shakes her head. “I was naive. Ryder always wanted someone I couldn’t be. Someone quieter or someone better at being a person. I’m always so all over the place you know? Too much for him.”

“You’re not–”

“It's okay, Len, you don't have to say anything.” she says, meeting his eyes again, taming the budding fire in his heart.

The idea of Sunshine being anything but completely herself unnerves him. Her jokes are funny, he can’t recall ever laughing as much before she boarded the enterprise. Her ramblings about xenobotany and classic earth songs never fail to catch his attention, even when he barely knows what she's talking about. Being around Sunshine is as easy as breathing, and he’s starting to need it as much too.

“Anyways, he proposed our senior year, like we weren’t a sinking ship, and I said yes and pretended like the ring wasn’t a last-ditch attempt to bring us back to life.”

Her teeth sink into her lip, her eyes dragging to her lap.

“I don't know what it was, but one night I just…broke. I couldn’t keep pretending to be someone I wasn’t, or beg to be loved.”

A few tears slide down her cheeks, she scrubs them away with her sleeve.

Leonard wants to tell her that she should never have to beg for anything in the first place, least of all love; he wants to tell her that she's worthy just the way she is. His fingers twitch with the desire to take her by the shoulders and tell her over and over that she’s perfect, that she couldn’t be too much if she tried. Sunshine has always had a magnetic pull to her, drawing in everyone she meets with her warmth. The idea of anyone taking that away from her pulls his heartstrings tight enough to snap. He holds back his anger, refraining from telling her that Ryder is an asshole who didn’t deserve a second of her time.

The wiser part of him knows that's not what he needs.

“We had planned to be on the USS Endeavor together, but I rescinded my application. I signed up to do on-planet research instead. I wrote a long letter, left it on our bed, packed up my things, and left.”

She coughs in a way that he knows is covering up a sob and takes a deep breath. The sound sends a pang of emotion through him.

“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. We were engaged, for Christ's sake, and I couldn’t even look him in the eye when I left him. And don’t even get me started on the fallout. We had all the same friends, and our families were so close… it was all so humiliating . Everyone expected us to live happily ever after, and then, there I was, giving him back his ring in a coffee shop.”

She knocks back the rest of her drink, like a consolation prize for getting all the words out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Len. I never wanted you to think of me like that, as someone who would do that.”

“ Sweetheart ,” he says like a plea, calling her attention. “No one in their right mind would think differently of you for leaving something that wasn’t good for you– or at least they shouldn’t.”

She's shaking her head before he finishes his sentence.

“But I–”

“I know. You didn’t go about it the way you maybe should’ve– or the way you wanted to. It doesn’t make you a bad person, it doesn’t make you any less… good.”

She hiccups, her chest rising and falling rapidly as another stream of tears drips down her cheeks. He can't help himself – and even if he could, he doesn’t want to – he brings both hands to her cheeks, wiping away the salty tears.

“It's alright,” he says gently, swiping his thumb under her eye again. “You’re alright.”

She nods, breaths finally evening out, and his hands reluctantly fall back onto his lap.

He remembers well the storm of feelings his divorce left him with. The gulit, the lonliness, feeling like the world was ending.

“I get it, y’know. The shitty relationship, becoming somebody you don't wanna be,” the barstool squeaks as he leans on the counter. He hasn't talked about his marriage since he told the story to Kirk years ago. It feels odd to tell it again.

“My ex and I met in college, fell head over heels, and I proposed a year later. I thought… well, we both thought we were soulmates. There was this connection between us that I’d never felt before, and I thought this must be it.”

“After a year ?” she gawks. He casts her a sideways glance and chuckles.

“A perfect year, mind you. Not a single disagreement, not a bad date– every day was straight out of a damn love story or something. Until we got hitched, that is. Then it was all disagreements.”

He anxiously taps a rhythm on the bar top. The memory still burns him now, of the fiery conflict, of the sleepless nights.

“We were the same in all the worst ways, stubborn, headstrong, prideful. We couldn't settle an argument to save our lives. It probably didn't help that I was in the middle of residency and pulling 100-hour weeks. It was miserable. I hardly recognized myself… I know I don’t have the best temper, but I never wanted to be an angry person.”

He lets out a slow breath, “I was mad as hell when she called it quits, said a lot of stuff I regret. But she was right to do it. We brought out the worst in each other, I was just too narrow-minded to see it. All this to say, I’m sure I would have taken the night shift to avoid her too.”

Sunshine rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, her thumb pressing circles into the muscle.

“I’m sorry, Len.”

He leans into her touch without thinking about it. “These things happen,” he tells her decidedly. “When something’s not right, there's nothing you can do to change that. You do the best you can with where you’re at, that's all.” He pictures himself, young and full of fire, holding onto something that had already slipped away. “Which you did, Sunshine. I know it’s hard to see now, but I promise it gets easier.”

When he drags his gaze from the mahogany bar top back to Sunshine, she's watching him curiously.

“What am I supposed to see?”

“That you were young, and scared, and you did what you needed to for yourself. Even if it's not shit you’re proud of, it makes you who you are. You learn, and it makes you better.”

She says nothing, silently considering his words for several moments. “Well, it better get easier soon, because it sucks .”

He chuckles, “That it does.”

She reaches right past him and grabs the half-empty bottle of whiskey.

“We should toast,” she says, the melancholy in her voice fading away, probably tucked back behind a wall. “To failed marriages.”

She’s already refilling their glasses and lifting hers to bump with his.

“Thought you ducked out on the whole wedding thing?” he teases.

“Fine then, to failed romantics,” she impatiently shakes the ice in her glass, “Just do it.”

He knocks his glass with hers and agrees, “To failed romantics, and night shifts, and all the other shitty stuff.”

Her face pinches as she finishes her drink. Gingerly, she takes both of their glasses and stacks them behind the bar.

Like ripping a bandage off and letting the wound breathe, Leonard feels lighter. As Sunshine hops off the bar stool and straightens her uniform skirt, he can see on her face that she does too.

“Thank you for the drink, and the talk, Len,” she says, and he waves her off.

“Don't mention it.”

“ Totally gonna mention it,” she grins, “and when the schedule suddenly gives you two days off in a row, you’ll know why.”

He laughs, and shakes his head, “I don’t think that's allowed, Lieutenant.”

“I have my ways,” she says innocently, as she saunters to the door.

He watches her go, everything she’s told him still buzzing in his head. He can hardly make sense of everything he’s feeling at once, but there's one thought that sticks out among the rest, that sits on his chest, demanding to be heard.

“Sunshine?” he calls before she’s gone, giving into his relentless mind.

“Yeah?”

When she turns around, he’s flooded with everything he’s ever wanted to tell her. How she has seeped into every part of his life since he met her, despite his once armored heart. How she doesn’t see it, but she's changed the entire atmosphere of the bridge, pouring life into it with her energy. How she's taught him how to be a better friend, a better man, even a better doctor. How she’s not too much, she's everything.

“You should know, you’re never too much, that's ridiculous. Anyone on this ship would agree in a heartbeat. Don’t know what I’d– what we’d do without you,” he rushes out. “I hope you never think you need to be anything other than who you are.”

She goes still in the door frame and observes him for a moment. He flounders in her silence, wondering if he should have just kept his mouth shut. She suddenly moves from the doorway, quickly striding towards him, the sound of her boots clacking on the floor. He has no time to react before she gently places her hand on his chest. She wastes no time, leaning down and pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she says meaningfully, searching his eyes for a brief moment before she turns heel again. She’s out the door without him even mustering up a word to say.

His skin heats where her lips had touched him, a crackling feeling left in their place. He lifts his fingers to the skin, ghosting over the sticky remnants of her lipgloss.

He sits, dumbfounded, knowing he’s gone somewhere there's no coming back from.

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