A Change of Stars

 

Title: A Change of Stars

Author: Prentice

Fandom: Star Trek, Star Wars

Pairing: Kirk/Spock

Category: Fusion. Crossover. Hurt/Comfort. Drama. Romance. Mystery. 

Note: Based on a prompt by yami_no_kab on the st_xi_kink memei, who wanted a ST/SW fic with Spock as a Sith Apprentice, Kirk as a Padawan, McCoy as a Jedi Knight, and a few other specifics along the way. I can't apologize enough for letting this languish on my hard drive for so long!

Summary: A change of stars is sometimes needed to see beyond the vastness of space and the trials of living.

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“I'm a healer not a goddamn diplomat,” Jedi Knight Leonard McCoy grumbled irritably, scowl stretching hard and fierce across his face as he moved swiftly through the empty halls of the Jedi Temple, stomach rumbling. Though it was well past the time for midday meal and he'd supposedly been at liberty for most of the day, he still hadn't managed to find his way to warm meal or a decent drink thanks to a sudden influx of injured patients. Not that the Jedi Council gave a damn.



Scowl deepening even further, Leonard turned a glare onto the all too cheerful padawan keeping pace beside him. “This is your fault, you know. You and your goddamn overeager over achievements. I knew I should have taken a different padawan!”



“You've said that before, Bones,” Jim Kirk replied happily, the self-satisfied smirk and bounce in his step all the more irritating when coupled with the fact that he didn't seem to be at all perturbed that the Jedi Council had just sent them on a wild goddamn goose chase half-way across the galaxy. “You love me, anyway. Admit it.”



A loud inelegant snort was his only response, his pace quickening as they neared their shared living quarters. There were preparations to make, ones that his padawan was surely planning to duck out of as soon as he was able to, and there was still the – other – matter to deal with. Lips thinning, McCoy shot a look of pure venom at a passing padawan, who promptly paled and squeaked, before stopping sharply in front of the nondescript door to his and Jim's quarters.



Finger stabbing at the door's control panel, he quickly stepped inside, eyes sweeping their small front room. It was lived in and welcoming; filled with small touches of both of their lives, loves, and interests. Not exactly the norm when it came to the austere living that most Jedi embraced, but he had never been one to adhere to any sort of code when it came to creature comforts and neither of them were exactly what you would call orthodox when it came to the Order.



No wonder the damn council had picked them.



“Before you go running off to do god knows what with god knows who,” Leonard began, sliding his outer robes off his shoulders and dropping them over a nearby chair before moving towards the small cabinet he knew still held a bottle of Corellian brandy. He needed a drink; had needed a drink from the moment Master Pike and Master Yoda had agreed that he and his padawan should leave immediately for a star base in that Gamma Sector, a largely uncharted section of the universe where, undoubtedly, Jim would get them both killed. “We're going to have a little talk.”



“Bones,” Jim started, expression already setting into that stubborn jut that meant nothing but trouble. Usually for Leonard. Christ, they were both probably going to get shot. Or shot out of an air lock. Or they were going to contract some rare disease that would kill them in a matter of hours.



He poured himself a very large glass of Corellia's finest.



“No, padawan,” he cut in, a small warm spike of satisfaction harpooning through his gut when Jim immediately quieted. 'Padawan' always seemed to be the magic word where the kid was concerned. “I want you to listen to me. I don't know how you managed to wrangle us into this – don't give me that look; I know you, Jim – but you're not going to do anything, and I do mean anything, like you did the last time you hoodwinked the council into giving us a mission.”



“But everything turned out fine!” Jim interjected, blue eyes bright with determination as his hands slid from beneath the folds of his tan robe, fingers spreading wide. “No one died and we managed to get back all the stolen date files to the Rilonan High Council before the end of the day!”



“We were there for a wedding, Jim! A wedding! My god, man, I still don't know how we went from listening to the Rilonan High Chancellor babble on about wedded bliss to space-hopping to some godforsaken backwater planet in Klingon territory in order to recover stolen data files that you, god knows how, found out were stolen but never even thought to mention to me until we were neck deep in trouble!”



Pausing, Leonard downed a large mouthful from his glass, dark eyes staring hard at his best friend and padawan.  Force knew he cared about the kid, but sometimes Jim made him want to rip his hair out. When he wasn't making him proud as hell, anyway.



Sighing, he shook his head, eyes softening. “I won't have it, padawan. Not again. We're doing this by the book. Just this time, you hear?”



For another long moment the two of them stared at each other, Jim's mouth pulling down at the corners. He wasn't happy, Leonard knew. 'By the book' hadn't ever seemed to be in Jim's vocabulary, but Leonard wasn't going to back down on this: they were going to do follow every goddamn Jedi protocol they had to, even if it it meant him dragging his padawan along every step of the way.



Finally, Jim sighed, inclining his head. “Of course, Master. By the book.”