leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

When he'd agreed to this, it had seemed like a good idea. Some drinks, maybe some relaxing, and he'd end the night a little sore, a little sore-eared, but probably for the better. Now, though, he's rethinking how much of a good idea this all is. The music is loud and McCoy has the suspicion that they've stumbled into a gay bar for their second stop of the night. Not that he's upset with that, but he's a lot worse at navigating one-night-stands with men (especially when he doesn't have love spells to help him).

He's coping with alcohol -- probably not the best idea, but hell, it's working. He's managed to nab a slightly quieter section away from the crowd, adjusting his green henley as he peers out over the dancing crowd for a girl that's lurking here for Jim. He's honestly not sure he could stand watching Jim go home with another guy, especially not if he'll be a room away.

"What are you thinking?" he asks above the music. "You wanna move on?"

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"I'm pretty drunk," he confesses, given that he's pretty malleable when he's got some liquor in his system to help him along. "Everything's a lot more fluid when you're drunk," he says, staring at Jim's eyes in the light of the club and amazed at how much bluer they can get.

"You and the bartender were looking cozy," he says, into his ear. "No luck there?"

Jim shivers for Bones' rough breath in his ear, scented with the many liquors they've sucked down tonight. "Never wanted him!" he shouts back, settling into a groove with Bones that makes him wash hot all over. He looks up to see Bones' eyes blown wide and dark, and objectively he's always known that Bones is pretty handsome, but the club lights are doing something crazy to him tonight.

And so had the ax and tanktop. And so had the refrigerator bulb. Jim swallows. "He said my boyfriend had good moves, then bought me a shot!"

"Who's your boyfriend?" McCoy asks, confused about that as the jealousy flares, thinking that Jim must've been eyeing up someone real specific if the bartender had been calling him out like that. He drifts back, just slightly, and breathes in deep to calm his heart.

Between Bones' hand on his hip and arm around his neck, Jim is sliding easily into the rhythm that pumps from the club's speakers, his eyes filled with the dizzy swirls of the pulsing lights. The bass feels as if it pumps right into the heart of him, mirrored by the swing of Bones' hips, and Jim is all but mesmerized. "You!" he laughs. "He thought I was with you."

Him.

Him?

He doesn't know why that surprises him so much, but it does. He'd never even think of himself as being able to exist in the same sphere as Jim romantically like that, let alone that other people would comment on that. He stops moving for just a second, trying to process that, and swallows back the lump in his throat. "Why'd you come dance?" he asks.

Jim makes a disappointed sound that's lost to the music as Bones stills, shifting more gently in rhythm as he shrugs. "I didn't really mean to," he says through a lull in the pounding bass. "Got caught in your orbit." Slowing to a halt, Jim feels his heartrate spike despite the alcohol. "I was watching you and I didn't feel like shit for once, and I wanted more of it."

He feels like he's getting a lot more courageous by the second right now. Jim's admitted to wanting to be out here dancing with him and they've been drinking and dancing and the whole atmosphere is ridiculous right now. He feels like he can't be blamed, especially when instead of dancing more, he leans in and presses his lips to Jim's, just the once, just a shade more than chaste.

And then, on the heels of that, reality comes crashing back in and he chastises himself for being so stupid, wiping his lips with his palm and heading out of the crowd, back towards the bartender.

It's over so quick, Jim could almost think he imagined it. Except Bones pushes away so quickly that Jim reels with it, mouth still tingling as Jim finds himself suddenly alone. More hands paw at him, hips crashing in against his own, and all at once Jim can't handle it for another second. He pushes his way from the crowd, not even certain where he's going until he finds himself in a place that's always been safe.

At his side, Bones is staring at the bar. Jim breathes in deep, knowing that his eyes are wild when he says, "Bones?"

Any minute now, the adrenaline is going to hit, and Jim's brain is going to start dumping a hundred and one ways this could go wrong into his head at once, but right now he just wants to know that Bones is okay.

He's got another drink by the time Jim makes it out of the crowd, regulating his breathing and trying to settle himself down before he can freak out and run. "Sorry, Jim, just got caught up in the moment," he admits, fingers twitching against the glass as he takes in steadying breaths.

He doesn't sound okay, not at all, and something in the rattle of Bones' breaths can be heard even over the music, and Jim feels his heart begin to race. He's confused and he's lonely and he wants his friend, even if Bones wants to kiss him, even if it hadn't been terrible, not at all, even if his body's still warm from where Bones pressed against it, and Jim can't take this place with its loud noises and its milling bodies a second longer.

His hand shakes when he reaches it, fisting at Bones' shirt as he grabs his shoulder. "Can we go? Please."

"Yeah," he breathes out in relief, happy that they're on the same page when it comes to this, even if he's not entirely sure what happens when they leave the bar, but he thinks it's high past time he got out of there. He finishes his drink and leaves the money with a sizable tip for the bartender, scrubbing his face with a hand as he leaves the bar, standing outside in the cold air and wishing, for the first time in years, for a cigarette.

He glances for Jim over his shoulder, waiting for him to come outside. And when he does, McCoy does his best not to stare, but he's a little past happy drunk and sliding into maudlin, now. "You okay?"

Jim feels unsteady as he steps out of the thunder of the club and into the quiet street, dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol, and as he looks back at Bones Jim realizes it's because he literally doesn't know which way is up. The shape of the world has changed, and it's changed so fast that it's left him behind, and he has no idea what to do to catch up.

He starts with one step, turning them towards the cabs for home. "No," he says honestly, "Kind of not. Are you?"

"No," he answers, after a long pause has passed and he manages to get back to himself. He doesn't know why he'd kissed Jim, because he's had this talk with his brain a dozen times (more like a hundred, these days) and he'd decided not to push anything because Jim needs a friend right now, not some overly issue-laden divorcee who works too often and doesn't want to be a rebound. "Too much to drink, too much sensory overload," he says, finally. "Don't even think I realized what I was doing until I pulled away."

Jim frowns. Bones sounds miserable, tired and old in the way he'd been trying to sound years ago in that shuttle, and even moreso, Jim doesn't like what he's saying. "You would have done that to anybody?" he asks. "That blond guy you were with before I cut in, you would have kissed him from sensory overload?"

"No," he admits roughly, swallowing hard. The truth is a bitch when it comes out, but it needs to. Hiding never did any of them good, and he knows it'd fester between them if he let it. "No, I don't kiss people that I don't have some kind of feelings for, deep down. Has to be something there for me to make a first move like that."

Feelings.

Catching Bones' arm, Jim guides them towards the wall, away from the other people that spill occasionally from the bar. "How long?" he asks, staring at Bones. It should be as if he's never seen him before, but Bones is as familiar as ever, and maybe it's not him who's changing. Because Bones has always been handsome, especially in this color, and he's always been kind, filling up Jim's time so he doesn't fill it with something terrible. He's always been easy to be around, always made life better - Jim's the one who's different.

"How long, Bones?"

He shrugs, trying to think back so that when he answers, it's honest. "Back on that island, there were starting to be a lot more moments that I couldn't ignore. Before that, maybe here and there at the Academy, but you weren't wanting what I did, so it was easy to dismiss."

He exhales and gives Jim a rueful smile. "The day I showed up, I kind of had it in mind to kiss you then, but uh, made it somewhere else and to another Jim entirely, wouldn't you know it?"

"I'm the same Jim," he replies, "Maybe not from that island, but I'm still your Jim, just like you were my Bones when you came here, after I nearly - " Jim exhales roughly. "Nearly lost it missing you."

He curls a hand around Bones' shoulder, and that little touch seems to help to keep him upright as his heart races on. "On that island, that Jim - he was having those moments, too?"

"No, you're not," he replies, feeling slightly light-headed to be admitting this. "Because you're married, you're still married. It's just that I walked into it at the wrong time," he admits, with a sad smile as he holds tight to Jim. "And I don't know if he was having anything. I was gonna make a move that night, then I got here," he admits.

He breathes out slowly, staring at Jim. "Don't lose it over me. I'm not near worth it."

"Shut up," says Jim without heat, because he's not going to debate Bones' self worth right now. It always goes down the toilet when he drinks, and Jim squeezes his shoulder. "What were you gonna do?" he asks. "What did you want from him? Just a kiss, or something more?"

He breathes in and rubs a hand over his face, slumping into Jim's touch. "I was gonna try for something more," he admits. "Hell, I don't know. Maybe I was just gonna kiss you and then you'd push me away or something. That's a long time ago now." He gives Jim a sad smile as he raises his head. "Let's just go home, huh? Can we please just go home?"

"I don't want to talk about this in the cab," replies Jim. "And I can't wait until it's over. Bones." Jim takes a breath, wetting his lips. "Is that something more what you want with me, now? Is that why you kissed me back there?"

He drags his hand into his hair, swallowing hard as he feels the world spinning a little. "It doesn't matter, Jim. You're grieving. You're looking for a rebound," he points out, with a deep breath. "I kissed you because I wanted to, I wanted you," he agrees. "Only, I know it's not gonna work, not with you feeling the do, about Spock."

Ruefully, he gives Jim a long look, gaze sliding down to his mouth. "What I want doesn't matter and I'm a big enough man to admit that."

"I'm fucked up," Jim admits. "I never expected to have a husband, and I never expected I'd lose him, either. Some days it hurts so much I stay in bed, and some days it hurts so much I go out and break something, but some days it feels bearable."

Jim sighs, releasing Bones to put his own back against the wall. "Usually always with you. Look." Jim covers his eyes with his hand, willing back the six shots he's recently sucked down. "I don't know what I'm doing, okay? But if I was gonna find a rebound, I'd have found it. That life's not even what I want anymore."

McCoy slumps back against the wall with Jim, shoulder to shoulder the way they're supposed to be. He lets out a deep breath and turns to glance at him, giving him a wary look. "What is it you do want?" he asks, frightened and quiet. Because he's scared that Jim will say something and he's scared that Jim won't say that same something. "Jim, I can't put you in a position that forces you into anything. You know that, right?"