A/N: I bet this has been done before, but I really wanted to try my hand at it.

The first time Leonard McCoy and James Kirk met could be looked upon as the day two bright, brilliant stars began pulling each other into orbit. But really, this can only be done in retrospect, with academy training, missions, and years, not to mention a half Vulcan, as the base of their friendship. That first meeting did give hint of the stories that were to come, though.

Jim Kirk was practically shaking with suppressed excitement and nerves, in a fresh pressed cadet uniform and with a fresh haircut. His mother, father, and brother had seen him off at the station, which was slightly embarrassing for the 18-year-old, but deep down he appreciated the support. He had been waiting for this day for as long as he could remember, and as he buckled up, he was unsure how he was going to keep still for the transport to the Academy.

His fidgeting was interrupted when a man fell into the seat next to him, looking as though life had chewed him up only to spit him back out. Several days with of stubble clung to a face that looked as though it had gone from youth to middle age in a matter of weeks. The man met Jim's eyes briefly, broken blue to life-loving hazel, as he pulled on his harnesses, and Jim quickly averted his eyes to pretend he hadn't been staring.

"Eh, don' worry 'bout it, kid," the man said, a smile that wasn't really a smile but more a habit of muscles coming to his face. "I know I look like something the targ dragged in."

Jim gave a halfhearted chuckle, before making a decision and pulling out the bottle of water and homemade sandwich his father had packed him. He silently offered it to this man, both eyebrows raised as if to dare him not to take the food. "Name's Jim," he gave a smile, hoping for the food to be taken and hoping this wouldn't be awkward. But honestly, Jim knew when a person needed a friend, and it looked at though this man was dying for one.

A single eyebrow answered his own two, this one raising high on the man's forehead. A very tentative genuine smile began to creep at the edge of the man's lips. "Leonard," he looked at the offered food. "Kid, ya really shouldn't."

Jim shook his head, "Honestly I think you could use it more." He smirked. "Not that I am claiming you look anything other than glowing."

Leonard snorted, taking the offerings finally and immediately opening the water. "Course you're not."

Duty done, Jim settled back in his seat, but positioned himself to look toward Leonard. "What discipline are you joining the Academy for?"

Leonard pulled out a little flask, fiddled with it, and then put it back away. "You are the first person not to ask me why I look like hell," he said instead of answering.

Jim shrugged. "You don't look like someone who wants to talk, let alone tell what will sound only like a sob story to a total stranger."

"Damn that's right," Leonard took another drink from the water. "I'm going for medicine. What about you, kid?"

Jim smiled, "Ah, I should have guessed you were a doctor. I'm trying for command."

"Hmm, well that is a competitive field, but you seem to have the spunk for it," Leonard mumbled, digging into the sandwich now and slowly looking less like the walking dead. Jim could have patted himself on the back for his good work.

"I will take that as a compliment, Doc," Jim's voice sparkled with a hint of mischief.

"Don't call me Doc," Leonard huffed overdramatically, gulping down the sandwich. Jim started to sense a weary humor lurking under the pain.

"How about Sawbones?" Jim's face gently dared argument as he pulled out PADD to study as he noticed Leonard seemed sleepy after wolfing down the sandwich as politely as possible.

"Damn it kid, I don't need a nickname," came the weak protest as Leonard finally settled into his own seat as well.

"Just Bones it is," Jim hummed to mostly himself, looking over to see his companion had passed out. He grinned, before beginning to read over one of the assigned textbooks for the fifth time, a gentle snoring keeping him company through the rest of the ride.