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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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."

"He told you about that, huh?" he mutters, sliding his hand away from Jim's and folding both in his own lap. "Look, he was worried that I was going to take you away and we cleared that up. Am I ever going to be as close with Max as I am with Rachel? I'm not, Jim," he says, honestly. "I'm better with daughters."

"You've only ever had a daughter," says Jim. "Of course you hit it off better with the girls around here, you've been there, you get it. But you'd be good with a son, too. I'd say there's no way we're taking boys off the table, but I think we're already ahead of ourselves here."

"For one, we just started dating," he agrees, grateful that Jim's on the same page when it comes to the idea of it being way, way too soon. Besides, he's not ready to have kids out of a marriage and he's in no way springing that one on Jim anytime soon. After all, they really did just start dating. "I love Max, I do. I just can't help that he hates me and that he's a hyperactive miniature version of you."

"Bones, he doesn't hate you. Honestly I think he's a little scared of you. The grownups he knew at home, all they did was yell at him."

Jim raises both brows. "And you do a lot of yelling. Not at him, but he's wary. If anything, he's afraid you won't like him, and that that means I'll stop coming around, too."

He snorts as he sets his napkin on the table and starts to get up. "As if I could ever stop you from doing anything?" he points out, trying to chase away the dark mood still haunting the edges of his mind as he thinks about kids and Jim and Jean and Madelyne and it all feels a bit too heavy. "Besides, you know me. I'm all bark and only mild bite."

"Yeah, I know, I had you figured out that very first day, but kid's aren't like that. Especially one that expects grownups to hate him and yell at him. Just."

Standing too, Jim comes around the table and slides his arms around Bones' waist with a grin. "Be nice to our training baby."

"Yeah, I know," he grumbles, even though the divorce put him in a permanently grumpy position some days. He leans into Jim's touch for all of a microsecond before he remembers that they're in public and he's still not feeling so cheerful. "And I'll be plenty nice to him if you start actually acting like a father-figure and not just cool Uncle Jim," he says pointedly.

"If he actually lived with us, it'd be different. I'd be different," Jim points out, giving Bones' hips a ticklish squeeze for settling back into that scowl.

"He's got a bed at the homestead, and as long as he's happy there that works for me. But if he lived with us it'd be different. There'd be bedtimes and discipline and chores."

"Good," McCoy murmurs, punctuating his words with kisses, "boy." That's what he'd been searching for, that need for discipline and rules and not letting the kid run ramshod around the island just because it's hard being the mean parent. "Speaking of home, you okay if I walk you home and crash for a while? Thought I'd take you out for a drink, but I'm not feeling up to it anymore."

"Not up for some me time?" Jim asks, threading his fingers through Bones' hair, sinking in to rub along his scalp. "Or a drink? Should I be worried?"

He shrugs, mostly tired. He manages a small smile for Jim's sake, but that's as much as he wants to muster before he starts his walk out of the bar, rubbing at his face as he tries to shake this goddamn slump.

Jim lifts a brow as Bones turns away. It's another moment before he follows, and more moments still before Jim does something he hasn't done before. Reaching down, Jim twines their fingers together, joined hands hanging between them as they walk.

Bones can go home and feel terrible if he wants to. But he's going to have company along the way.

He holds tighter than he might normally, only because he doesn't really know what else to do but hold on tight. "Sorry," he does manage, quiet and feeling raw. "I guess I'm a shitty pseudo-dad and boyfriend in the same day. You ought to lock me in the bedroom on days like today."