leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's strange to have a reminder on the island of what there used to be. He's happy with his current life, happy as hell. He's got Jim, he's got a good thing going, but then there's Madelyne walking around and while he's got no intention of wooing her, it's hard to see her. It's a picture-perfect (nearly) reminder of Jean and every once in a while, it catches him off guard. Sometimes, when he calls Jim 'darling', it sticks on the tip of his tongue and he remembers doing the same with Jean.

Hell. He still remembers that the first time he and Jean had sex was right after Jim vanished the first time. Today's one of those days -- nostalgia days, as he's starting to call them -- and though he's at the Winchester to pick up Jim from after his shift, he's wound up staring at Madelyne (who's at a distance), and trying not to let himself get overwhelmed with history.

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Spotting Bones as he exits the kitchen near the end of his shift, Jim grins at the back of head, kneeling to stack clean plates and bowls beneath the counter for the lunch crew. He comes up still smiling, but Bones hasn't looked his way yet, hasn't moved at all, in fact, seemingly rooted to his chair.

Frowning, Jim passes through the restaurant, stopping just behind Bones when he sees what he's looking at. Or rather, who. His stomach gives a dull swoop, and Jim lets the hand he'd been about to set on Bones' shoulder fall, settling for a clearing of his throat instead.

It's enough to pry him out of his state. He flushes red and eases back into the chair, turning to look at Jim and offer what he hopes is an eager smile, not tinged with anything filled with regret. "Hey, I didn't even hear you come up. Is this the new sneaky Jim Kirk?"

"Doesn't take much sneaking when you're a hundred miles away," says Jim, not looking at Madelyne, but it's pretty clear what he means.

"You hungry? It's between time, so we've got breakfast and lunch."

He inhales sharply, guilt flooding him when he realizes that he's definitely been caught. He doesn't apologize, namely because he's not even sure what you say in a situation like this. "I don't have much of an appetite," he admits, reaching out to slide his arm around Jim's waist and nudge him in. "Hey," he murmurs. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Jim murmurs back, feeling both better and worse for the contact. He's usually a pro at keeping people's interest, fighting for it with wit and charm and occasionally phasers, but he's never tried to hold on to someone romantically before. If Jim has to fight for it, he
will, he just...he's not quite sure how to do that. Especially when what he's competing with is a memory.

"I mean, right?"

He drags himself away from staring and knows that Jim won't have let something like that go. He bows his head and leans his forehead against Jim's shoulder for a moment. "Sorry," he says. "I got trapped in a spiral that led to my damn past and I didn't know how to get out. Madelyne does that to me, sometimes."

"I know a good way out," says Jim, peeling away to take the chair across the table from him. "Or we can talk about it." Jim's lips thin, mouth set hard with determination. He could do this, listen now and take Bones home later, kiss the hurt from his own heart and Bones' memories right out of them both. "Her. If you want to."

He folds his hands on the table and contemplates Jim across from him. There's too much he doesn't want to talk about because he knows it will hurt Jim and as much as he'd like to get it out, there's no way. "No," he says, shaking his head. "No, Jim, there's no reason you have to be the one to hear this stuff. We never said we had to talk about this," he says, reaching out to grasp hold of Jim's hand and pull it within his own, kissing the knuckles gently.

"I do a lot of things I don't say I'm going to," Jim replies, twining their fingers together. "She was a big part of your life, and so am I. No reason we can't meet some ends."

He tightens his grip on Jim's hand, hating that he's about to actually say this. "It's just that there's overlap between the relationships I'm in. Things I do, things I say..." He offers an apologetic smile. "Hell, Jim. Some of the stuff we do is stuff I did with Joce."

"That's inevitable, isn't it?" Jim asks. "Your partners changed, but you didn't. The things you like will probably always be the things you like. I mean, what are we talking about here? You ate and cooked together, you went on dates? Did you take her to the car?"

"No, the car's all you," McCoy promises, sliding his thumb up and down the side of Jim's palm, smiling softly as he stares at him. "I guess I mean that she and I slept together. We had picnic dates. I called her darling," he admits, sighing heavily as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Besides, she had kids. You don't. ...do you?"

"Not that I know of," says Jim with a tiny smile. "But so what? So Jean had kids like Joce did. I like kids. Hell, I even want kids. That's not going to be something you share only with them, Bones."

He raises a brow, not having expected to have heard that. "You do realize that between the both of us, we're missing some of the more important parts, right?" he says, struck aghast. "How did I not know this about you?"

Jim frowns. "Well, what did you think? That I was going to do nothing but run around the stars forever? Sure, I want kids. I always figured I'd do a few tours before I started trying to bring a family onboard, but I do want it. And I think I'd be good at it. Max and me get on like a house on fire."

"I don't know," he says, and he's still feeling as shocked as he had been when this first got sprung on him all of two minutes ago. "I guess I never thought you wanted kids. I mean, if nothing else, you're with me and like I said, it's not like you and I get to have adorable little space-babies," he drawls.

"Guess Jo's not as much of a dealbreaker as I worried about."

"Dealbreaker?" Jim laughs and pulls his hand away, running it through his hair. "I'd kill to meet your kid, Bones. I bet she frowns and smirks just like you, only somehow even more adorable. And we could adopt. God only knows how many orphans there are in the universe, and kids that deserve better than what they got."

He exhales, unable to believe how relieved he is that this is something that Jim wants. Hell, he's a father deep down and he wants to be again and he's so damn grateful for it that he surges forward over the table and kisses Jim hard. "You want kids," he says, stunned. "Jim Kirk wants to be a Daddy."

Jim grins into the kiss and blushes, not for the public display but for the words. "Can't believe you thought I didn't," he says, "I wasn't going to be a big ol' manwhore forever, Bones."

He stares at Jim, still shocked. "Honestly, I didn't know. I guess I thought you'd put your career first and foremost until you retired and then started to regret the things you didn't do." He settles back in his chair, his attention sliding back to where Madelyne had been, unable to tear himself away for a few moments. "You want kids," he says again, like he needs to keep repeating it for it to sink in.

"I do," Jim says, reclaiming Bones' hand before he can stare at that empty spot for too long. "Maybe I'd do career and family at the same time. When have you ever known me to play by the rules, or settle for simple and expected?"

He lets out a long sigh, starting to feel calmed and panicked at the same time. This is about the minute where he uses his free hand to gesture to himself. "So, you want to board this train of parenthood with me?" he verifies. "Jim, I've told you about the custody hearings. You know what Jocelyn said about me as a father."

"I know they were bad, which is all I need to know they're not true," Jim replies at once. He doesn't care for Jocelyn on a good day - make it about Bones' kid and Jim halfway to putting an unlucky appendage through a wall.

"I'm not saying, like, today, but at the risk of sounding non-parental, fuck yes, Bones. You still talk about your daughter like you saw her yesterday, and it's been years. A kid you actually get to see everyday? You'd be the best father."

"I haven't exactly been amazing with Max," he says, suddenly scared and struck by the icy water that is the prospect of being a father again. Sure, he's good with Rachel and Cassie and the other girls he's taken under his wing because he knows how to deal with a daughter. What happens if he's got a son to worry about?

"No," Jim agrees, anger banking in his amusement. Bones is quite frequently awful with Max, but Jim knows it's only because he misses his own kid so much. "But you're getting better." He lowers his voice. "Max told me about your touching hug."