Jim laughs again as Bones lets go, soft and happy, curling his fingers through the short hairs at Bones' nape. They move together, this time as easy as breathing, and when the song changes, Jim lets instinct drive him. He turns Bones, slipping an arm around his waist as he tugs Bones back against his chest, nose dragging against Bones' shoulder as Jim bends and breathes him in, sweat and bourbon and the laundry detergent they bought together.