leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

God damn, he's exhausted by the time he gets home. He'd let Jim know he was going out for dinner and coffee, probably wouldn't be back until later. He doesn't tell Jim it's a blind date, but the email confirming that is on his phone and though McCoy had been careful to bring it with him, he knows Jim is far too clever not to be able to hack into it. Hell, he's not even sure why he did this, except maybe those damn stones scared him

The date? Hadn't gone very well. She'd been sweet and all, but they had nothing in common and he'd been checking his emails from the hospital all night. Despite the fact that she'd been beautiful, McCoy can't really justify seeing her again. He steps into the front hall of the house, prying off his shoes as he drops his keys into a bowl he's put on the front table. "Jim? I'm back," he calls, just to let him know he's home.

"You record anything decent that aired tonight?" he asks absently, scrubbing his hand through his hair as he walks inside, already trying to forget the date.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You can't, can you?" asks Jim, hardly noticing the length of time it takes Bones to answer through the muted thrum of his blood. "I can't forget about it either." His cheek tingles where he'd seen Bones kiss the other Jim, and Jim rubs at it with his shoulder. "It was weird. Weird and nice."

"No, it's kind of hard to get out of there," McCoy agrees wryly, settling down in a chair opposite Jim as he breathes out slowly, trying not to think too much about how he's not able to have what he saw. "I saw a world I'm not going to get, so I'm trying to go out and forget it," he says. "Only, my blonde, blue-eyed beautiful date just wasn't what I was looking for, I guess."

Jim laughs in recognition. "Sounds like me," he observes, poking at his bandages. His arms don't hurt at all now, and he turns them over and back again in wonder. "Except I'm not a girl." He looks up. "I don't think you like just girls."

"I don't know how I'd define myself," he says, because he's thought about it for a while. Had to, after what happened with Scotty, after his idiotic crush on Jim all through the Academy and after, not to mention the healthy appreciation he's got for other beautiful men. "Mostly straight? 60-40?" he assumes, even though the split is probably closer to 75-25.

He shrugs, digging out his phone to pull up the image of the girl he'd taken. "That's her," he says. "Pretty, smart, and good company. But we didn't hit it off at all."

Jim takes the phone, needing more than one try to hold it in his numb fingertips. "She's pretty," he echoes for the image on the screen, even if he can't say he's not glad they didn't hit it off.

He looks up from the phone. "60-40. You never told me that. How come?"

"75-25," he corrects out loud, arching his brow as Jim asks why he didn't say. "Well, for one, I don't think the divide got that big until I got to that island, had a few experiences. For another, there's this thing called denial and repression and I'm a goddamn champion at those things," he says, lifting up to fetch Jim a glass of water.

"Here," he says, extending it to him. "Drink."

Jim takes the glass. Even his lips feel numb and full of buzzing, but the water is nice and cool down his throat, and he drinks deeply. "Why repress?" he asks, arm half lifted to wipe his mouth before he remembers the bandages. "Seems to me you got a better chance of finding the right one if you embrace that twenty five."

Jim seems to be damned eager to walk them both down this road. "Yeah, I do, huh?" he says, sarcastic and wry -- a touch negative. "Well, here's the deal, Jim. I repress because it's for the best of everyone I know. Better than I ignore what I'm feeling so people who already have feelings elsewhere don't get hurt."

"Everybody gets hurt." Jim puts down the glass, his expression as grim as his pronouncement. "Good people, bad people. People that tried their damn best." His eyes are a little watery, and that must be the drugs, too, because Jim knows he did right by Spock, and he still lost him. The universe doesn't really care if people deserve what they get or not - it's probably why Jim's so hell bent on giving it the finger.

"Leap without looking. That's what I say."

McCoy gives Jim a stare that's longer than healthy, knowing that Jim probably doesn't understand what it is he's saying and why it's so much of a bad idea. He lets out a soft huff, taking back his phone and staring at the picture for a long moment. "If I do that, I break the best thing in my life," he warns.

Jim catches the end of that stare, watching Bones intently while he takes the phone and looks at it instead. Maybe he's full of shit, because as soon as Bones says that, Jim knows he's been doing it, too. Ever since Spock left, Jim's been in one long spiral, and the orbs had taken away the last of his solid ground. He hasn't been leaping into what he'd see there between him and Bones, he's been avoiding it, and for just the reasons Bones has said.

He rubs at his cheek, realizing quite suddenly that the breeze on it must mean the picture he's put over the hole in his wall has gone crooked. "You're the best thing in my life."

He doesn't even notice the hole in the wall at first, because he's saying, "Yeah, I know that feeling," out loud, swallowing back the fear in it. Soon after the words are out of his mouth, though, he's staring past Jim at the big hole in the wall, and he's got a bad feeling he understands what's happened.

"James," he drawls, slow and punishing. "What's that?"

Jim can't help it. His kneejerk reaction to his given name from Bones is either extreme contrition or to dig in his heels, and he looks over his shoulder at the wall. "Well," he says. He'd dragged the thing into his room to work on, not sure he could bear witness to Bones bringing anyone home for coffee.

"It went really fast when it exploded."

"And why were you working on it to the point that it got fast enough to explode?" he suggests curiously, giving him a dubious look. "I went on a date for a few hours and you've nearly blown the wall down. What the hell's gonna happen if I ever went steady?"

"Nothing," Jim replies at once, somewhat unconvincingly when the hole is the wall has probably only just stopped smoking at the edges. "I don't want to get in your way, okay?" At least, not so much that he'll let it stand in the way of Bones' happiness. It'd be selfish, even for Jim, especially when he hasn't even decided what he wants or what he's even equipped to give right now.

"It was just a bad night."

"How the hell are you gonna get in my way, huh?" he wants to know, given that the best case and the worst case scenario in his head is the exact same. It's the one where he does something and makes a move on Jim, the one where he tries to get what he wants and either gets everything he's ever dreamed or ruins it all.

"I don't know," says Jim, smiling a little. "Accidentally burn the place down while you've got someone over? Look." Drugged or not, Jim can't help but lean forward against the table, outlining things like the commander he is at heart. "You changed your shifts around, you moved all the way out here in the country, you're spending most of your free time looking after me, I know you are. Does that make you happy?"

He swallows the lump in his throat. He's not drugged, there's no impetus for him to be so guileless and honest, but he wants to be for Jim's sake. "You should know after all these years that it doesn't feel right unless I'm looking after you," he points out, feeling a touch tender for it. "Yeah, I'm happy. Even if I know you're not."

"Oh." Jim drops his gaze and his attitude at once, smiling down at his bandaged hands. Maybe he'd even expected that answer somewhere deep down - Bones has looked out for him as long as he's known him - but it still warms him to hear. "I'd say that's the doctor in you," he says, "But I think you're just a really good man, Bones. Most people would be a mess after ten minutes with me." He looks up. "I'd be way worse off if you weren't here."

"Yeah, so you've told me," he jokes, but there's an acknowledgement in there that he understands and believes it. It's not that he wants to be Jim's savior, but it's still pretty damn nice to know he's wanted. "I just want you to be happy, Jim," he admits. "And that's why I'm gonna keep doing what I am. Don't wanna ruin a good thing, right?"

"Nothing's gonna ruin us, Bones," says Jim, moved to unusual frankness where is emotions are concerned, but that's often the effect Bones has on him. He can't much feel his hands between the bandages and the anesthetic, but he still curls one against Bones' shoulder. "I promise. You mean too much to me for that."

"Pretty sure I could ruin us if I followed through on what I saw in one of those orbs," he says, feeling pretty confident about that, and feeling a bit daring to admit it out loud, even if Jim isn't all there at the moment. "And then who'd listen to me vent and bitch about the support staff at the hospital, huh?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only