leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

Honest to god, McCoy isn't exactly sure what he's feeling right now.

It's surreal. It's beyond expectation and maybe he'd convinced himself that he wasn't going to get and now that it sounds like they're going to try, he actually doesn't know how to process that information. He genuinely is in a state of shock and he thanks God that there had been a chair behind him for when he'd sank back into it, still trying to get over the idea that they might be having a kid.

Shit.

There's a lot to do. He needs to start working on getting genetic material and working on the genetics aspects to make sure there's as little of Jane as possible in the sample, just to make sure he keeps a promise to Lipton. And then there's the whole 'getting the material', which will probably be Jim's favorite day of the damn year.

Jim. McCoy comes back to reality and glances across the room, staring at Jim with shock. "Did that happen?" he gets out.

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"You'll have to show me how to pick one up without breaking one," Jim agrees, knowing that Bones will feel steadier when they have a plan. "How to feed him, how to burp him, change him, all of that stuff."

He leans back. "Maybe I should start practicing with an egg. You know, if I can keep it unbroken for a week, I'm ready for parenting?"

"Jim, an egg isn't a baby," McCoy argues, feeling grateful to have some of this familiar patter back. "How about you work at the children's office for practice? Hell, go with a bag of flour or a puppy. Or that cat of ours, where is that damn thing," he wonders, glancing around as if he's going to find it.

Jim's face lights up immediately at the thought of a puppy, but he does his best to suppress it. "Please, Plum'll outlive both of us, and without a stitch of help. I could draw a face on a bag of flour, though, as long as you protect me from the people trying to commit me."

McCoy runs his fingers through Jim's hair, wondering which genes he ought to isolate and look to targeting. It seems strange and odd to be building a child, but at this point, it's their lives. "How about you read some books and then when the kid is born, you put your genius mind to work, huh?" he offers. "How about that?"

"I can try," Jim promises, though he's pretty sure he can get Bones to run baby drills if he puts the Command gold on. It does things to Bones, and Jim is not above exploiting them.

"I want it to have your nose," he says abruptly. "I love your nose."

He reaches up to touch his nose, trying to get the shape of it in his mind so he has a hope in hell of understanding why Jim would want a kid to have this kind of nose. "Seriously? My nose?" he echoes, adjusting his hold on Jim with an arm around his waist to keep him from falling. "Only if the kid gets your baby blue eyes," he negotiates.

"Your nose," says Jim, leaning forward to kiss its upturned end, "Is too adorable not to live on. It would be a crime against the island not to have a backup McCoy nose."

He lets out a huff of a sound, which is equal parts disbelief that Jim thinks his nose is cute and the realization that yeah, he's going to do whatever Jim damn well wants. He tightens his grip on Jim's waist, hauling him in a little closer. "Your hair. Easier to target blonde with two sources."

"But soft like yours is," says Jim, and though he's never shied from affection towards Bones, now he's downright giddy with it, the thought of a child with Bones' features lending new affection towards his every freckle. "Maybe your ears, too? And make his smile like yours, or maybe don't."

Jim grins, wide and happy. "That might be dangerous, God knows I can't say no to it."

"Like you're ever going to say no to this kid," McCoy scoffs, when Jim brings that up. He's already planning to have to be the bad cop, given that Jim has a bad tendency to give in. "You're going to have to write me a list, darling," he murmurs softly. "I'm going to be spending a lot of time in the lab over the next few weeks, so you better promise now not to be mad that you don't see me too often."

"I don't mind," says Jim, dragging his fingers through Bones' hair. "Busy you is hot, way better than the depressed mad scientist you've been these last few months."

He lets out a derisive sounding scoff, shaking his head at the idea that he's any kind of mad scientist, but Jim might have an actual point when it comes to that. He continues sliding his fingers through Jim's hair, a little overwhelmed by how much he has to do at this point. "You planning on being there with me, make sure I don't accidentally give it three heads or a tail?"

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