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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"Jocelyn took my optimism in the divorce," is his reply, mostly because there's a part of him that's rollicking with the bad mood now and he wants to keep riding it out, but there's another part that genuinely wants to do nothing more than curl up in bed and process the fact that Jim wants kids and he didn't know and he's being a complete asshole.

He pushes his breath out sharply. "Look, I'm serious, Jim. Best solution to this is to give me a bottle of something and let me pass out. I'll be a human being in the morning."

"Jesus, fine," says Jim passing him towards the house. He'll rally again in no time, but for the present moment, Jim's tired of feeding the bear. "There's at least one bottle beneath the sink. Knock yourself out. I'll be in the kitchen working on my tricorder. And eating some fucking cake. And you know?" he adds over his shoulder. "Most people want to bang like bunnies after talking about having kids."

He could snap back, but he's tired of fighting, especially when he's not even mad. He's just tired. He heads for the sink and crouches to hook the bottle between his fingers, gripping it hard between his fingers as he heads for his bedroom, not mentioning that he's had this conversation before and it's part of what's making him so damn tired. Thoughts of Jo and the last time he had the talk about having kids and hell, he's exhausted.

He closes the door behind him, sets the bottle on the dresser, and sits on the edge of the bed without taking any of it back. Shit, he's terrified. He's not sure he realized how deep into a relationship he was until right now and the last time he got this far in, Jean vanished weeks later.

He reclines back until he's staring at the ceiling and trying to think back to the day he and Joce decided to go for it, to try for kids, to say 'hell with it' to their youth.

Jim sits at the table, but as the minutes stretch on, he's forced to admit he doesn't have the stomach for cake right now, and his concentration's shot. He switches to staring at Bones' bedroom door, from the table, and then on his feet in front of it.

Finally, Jim heaves a sigh and turns the knob. "I'm going to work in here," he announces to Bones' still form. "Just fucking deal with it and scoot over."

He shifts. He makes room for Jim on the bed, shifting onto his side and forming half of a circle with his body, shoulders tucked in until he feels somewhat small and it's a mirror of how he and Jocelyn talked about having kids. He straightens his posture, but eventually gives up again. "C'mere," he says tiredly, reaching out for Jim. He'd never forgive himself if he drove a wedge into their relationship because of the past.

Still clinging to the specs he'd brought in with him, Jim shifts on the bed, leaving the papers on the bedside table as he curls himself towards Bones. "Missed this room," he says.

"What's so great about my room?" he wonders, sliding his palm over Jim's hip until he's got the warmth of his body nearly and neatly cupped in his hand. He probably doesn't look as tired as he feels, but it's seeping through every part of him. "Jim, I'm sorry for being an asshole, but when we talk about kids, it doesn't give me that first thrill rush. It just reminds me of Jo."

"It smells like you," Jim murmurs in answer, and they're already close, but he leans in to rub the tip of his nose alongside Bones'. "And of course it does, she's your baby. That's never going to change, no matter what happens with us, and Bones. There's no rush, because we're not ready. When we are, I think that'll be different."

"My room only smells a little like me anymore, I spend all my time in your bed," he replies, because at this rate, Jim and his scent mixed together is going to be the whole house inevitably, save this room and only because they never come in here.

When he laughs, low and fond, he kisses Jim's lips. "The great Captain Kirk, discussing the babies he wants," he teases fondly. "You better believe that I'm not the kind of guy who has kids out of wedlock, Kirk," he jokes.

"Too much of a gentleman for that," Jim replies, his voice just as light, but he understands the implication behind the words, and he's not balking. "I know, Bones. But as you keep pointing out, neither one of us is going to get knocked up on accident."

"If either of us do, I will murder you. Eagerly," he enunciates each of the words, wanting Jim to damn well understand that whether it's some alien culture or the island doing it, there's limits to how understanding he can be. He stretches out, his toes brushing against Jim's ankle as he slides his knee between Jim's. "I'm guessing this was a close-to-retirement plan of yours?"

"Like you wouldn't enjoy the chance to study a medical anomaly," Jim laughs, shifting his knees to accommodate Bones. "And yeah, I guess you could call it that. When things had slowed down, and, you know." Jim shrugs, dropping his gaze to Bones' collarbone. "I figure you can't be a father until you've done something that would've made your father proud."

"Well, that's bullshit, but it's adorable that you think that," he opines, shooting Jim a dubious look as he reaches out to slide his fingers slowly through Jim's hair, looking at the contrast between fingertips and blond. "Seeing as I was twenty-three when Joanna was born and the only thing I'd done to make my Daddy proud was manage not to fuck up my residency."

"Yeah, but it's not like that's easy, being a doctor. And you had him around for advice. I've never had a kid, never had a father, never really had a family at all." Jim closes his eyes, enjoying the fingers threading through his hair. "I'd just rather wait until I'm not flying quite so blind."

"Did you think the kid was just going to spawn off some spore on your arm?" McCoy wonders warily, his fingers stilling against the warmth of Jim's scalp for a moment. "Jim, kids require more than one person. Even if it's not the parents, close friends help. You would never have been alone. You aren't, now."

And McCoy is not gonna mention that when he'd watched those videos, those things about the other universe, he saw Jim's kid. That seems a little invasive. "How about if ever we get home, I'll leave you with Jo for a week. You can learn trial by fire."

Jim opens his eyes with a smile. "I'll remember you think that method works if it ever looks like we're adopting a boy, lock you in the homestead with Max until you're an expert."

He curls his fingers around Bones' neck, drifting in to kiss him again. "I know I'm not alone. I just don't want to fuck it up when the time comes."

"You'd never," McCoy drawls lazily. "Because what happens if after that locked-up-time in the Homestead, Max and I get on better than you and he ever did," he teases, tugging Jim's lower lip between his so he can suck for a moment before releasing him. "And you won't fuck it up, JT. I wouldn't let you."

"I'll remember you said that, too," Jim replies, breath hitching for the tug to his lip. Bones' knee is still between his own, and Jim lifts his leg a little higher, half-draped across Bones' hip. "Your superior daddy skills will probably be a turn-on."

He brushes slow kisses over Jim's neck, grateful for the fact that he's starting to feel better -- the memories of Jean and Jo and Jocelyn (and Jesus, what is it with him and J-names?) fading away. "Want me to tell you about how I used to feed Jo without a shirt on? Walk her around our house in Georgia with a towel on my shoulder while she sucked on a bottle in my arms?"

"Jesus," Jim exhales, eyes closed, "Why is that so hot?" Beneath the rough words and even fiercer expressions, Jim knows Bones is a caretaker deep down, built to heal and to nurture. He's always admired it, but in this context, for reasons Jim doesn't understand but isn't complaining about, it's swiftly getting him hard. "Bet that was fucking adorable."

"What can I say, I'm sexy when caring for an infant," he blithely remarks, rolling onto his back and sliding his palm to the small of Jim's back so he can palm it wide and sure, bringing him right on top of him. "Look how I take care of you."

"Screw you," Jim laughs as he rolls, coming to rest atop Bones, a position he's not at all unfond of. "I'm not an infant. I'm a Captain, and your superior officer. One of these days I'm going to get you to call me 'sir'."

He's got an idea from that. He grips Jim by the upper arms and pushes him off of his body for a second, leaning over to grab a box from under the bed, kissing Jim's forehead firmly. "Wait here," is all he says, before he heads to Jim's bedroom and closes the door behind him.

When he comes back, he's wearing his uniform, right down to the boots -- shirt a little bigger now that he doesn't work out half as much -- and he's even gotten his hair back to semi-regulation. "Captain," he says, standing at ease. "Sir, you want it like this?"

On the bed, Jim waits with both hands behind his head, not knowing what Bones is up to, but trusting that it will be something good. Still, he's not prepared when Bones walks back through that door in his science blues.

"Do I, uh," he begins, mouth dry and back suddenly ramrod straight, and it's difficult to hear over the sudden rush of blood in his ears. "Seriously?"

Months on the bridge, he'd stood right beside that damn Captain's chair and watched as Jim charted their courses through the stars. The undershirt is sweltering and the collar of the blue shirt is starting to itch, but he keeps standing at attention, chin lifted high in the air while he tries his damnedest not to smile. "Sir, I'd like to remind you that as your Chief Medical Officer, I still wield the power to overrule you, as far as power struggles go. As well, you've yet to file the form informing Starfleet as to our physical relationship. Sir."