leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

When he wakes up, he hears two things that make him distinctly terrified for both his life and his sanity. See, thing is, on the island, he wakes up with Jim clinging to him like a lamprey and that's about normal, that's fine. He gets used to the cat in his face yelping for food. What he's not used to is his Mama's voice shouting from downstairs that breakfast is on and if he doesn't move his ass, then Jo's gonna eat all of it.

So, you know, what in hell has he been drinking? He starts awake, hair a righteous and holy mess and he stares around him -- no grogginess left, not today. There's a dozen recognizable things around him and his eyes flit between them -- his Vitruvian man poster, the skeletal poster, his favorite sports teams and the merchandise, and the assorted antiques that litter the room. He breathes out and flops back on the bed, but it's not mattress he hits.

It's Jim.

"Fuck, ow," he hisses, then stares at the door in the event his mother (or Jo, how is Jo here, it must be break, the one time he ever got her and his grandparents left no mystery as to where she'd be spending it). He bolts for the door, clad in nothing but his tight black boxer-briefs and locks it firmly, reaching over to flick Jim in the leg. "Get up," he orders. "Now."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's kind of serious," says Jim, too aware of the women on either side of them to look wounded, even if he feels it. He's here, in Bones' apparent ultimate fantasy - that has to count for something.

"Anyway," he says, clearing his throat, "breakfast is amazing. I wonder if I can trouble you for some coffee, Mrs. McCoy? I'll make it if you show me where, I'm kind of a terror when I'm uncaffeinated, if your son's opinion can be trusted."

McCoy tries to shoot Jim a panicked message using only his brows and his jaw that saying it's serious is only going to get his mother bringing out the goddamn planning books and demanding to know when he's going to be made an honest man again and that is not what he wants to be doing with his time. He inhales sharply and gets up. "I'll get the coffee," he says, fixing it just the way Jim likes it, bringing it to Jim's side and taking the opportunity to slide his hand up Jim's forearm and press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

Long enough to mumble, "If you really want to be stuck talking to my mother about china patterns, by all means, tell her how serious. Tell her about the more grandchildren part, you'll never get to leave or enjoy my bed."

"Maybe I do," Jim mutters back, which he mostly means, except for the bed part. Definitely not the bed part. "Thanks," he says brightly, taking a long drink from his cup.

"I have to say, I'm anxious to see the place where Bones grew up. Maybe you could show me around, Jo? Is that a tire swing out front?"

He raises his brow, but doesn't say anything about how Jim apparently wants to discuss 'rest of our lives' with a potential future in-law, which is something that McCoy's not even close to ready for. So he's glad, really, when Jim makes the offer to go outside. "Yeah," she says, brightening. "Gramma, can I show him?"

"Tidy up your plates, JoJo."

She's a whirlwind of activity and all the while, McCoy watches as his mother looks at him, then to Jim, and then back to him. "Does he make you happy, Jim?"

"Really happy," says Jim, and he's trying to dial it down, he really is, but his cheeks are warm and starting to ache a little with his smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Jo, rushing to show her daddy's friend around. She really is his image, and displaying the singular focus he's seen Bones wield a thousand times.

"And I'm sure I don't deserve him, but I'm trying to."

"He deserves me about a hundred times more than I could ever manage to snag him," is McCoy's opinion on the matter, given that Jim's a genius who finished Starfleet in three years and has his own ship and McCoy just so happened to be on the right shuttle at the right time.

Jo's sprinting around, tugging on her sweater and grabbing her boots, flailing around slightly as she goes.

He turns to look at Jim, smiling fondly. "He's everything I didn't think I deserved after the mess with Jocelyn."

Jim flushes, not used to outright praise from a man who usually shows his affection by getting angry every time Jim hurts himself. If the moonpie eyes they're making at each other now aren't enough to let Mrs. McCoy know they're serious, she'd have to be blind.

"And now he's breaking his cardinal rule of not inflating my ego," Jim exhales. "Sounds like you need some fresh air, Bones."

"Yeah, I could do with a breather," he admits, shoving his hand through his hair and prepping a mug of coffee because even if this is in his head, he still feels groggy as hell. "Jo, you ready, baby?" he calls, peering down the hall to the front door to find in her in her boots and coat, haphazardly tying up her hair into pigtails.

He crosses the distance between them so he can smooth out the frizzy parts, one hand protectively on her shoulder. "You gonna be nice to Jim?" he asks quietly. "I know I don't come home that often, but I really, really love him, Jo," he says. "And I want you two to get along."

"I can try, Daddy," she says softly. "Promise."

Jim downs the rest of his coffee quick enough to burn the back of his throat, but he looks cheerful as he stands, carrying his dish to the sink after a wary look at Mrs. McCoy. "Thanks for the grub," he says on his way back through, suddenly moved to a quieter approach when he sees Bones and his daughter at the door.

"Everybody ready?" he asks, trying not to look as uncertain as he feels.

McCoy watches Jim cautiously, taking in the look on his face. When he makes sure that he's out of the line of his mother's sight, he slides an arm around Jim's waist, inching his fingers into the back of Jim's borrowed jeans and pressed a strong kiss to the juncture of his neck.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Talk to me. You okay with all of this?" he asks as he holds open the porch door, letting Jo burst outside at a dash.

"Yeah," Jim breathes, "of course," and barks out a surprised laugh as Jo streaks by them. He buries his head briefly against Bones' shoulder and straightens up. "Just trying not to screw all this up, you know?"

He tugs Jim even closer for the singular second that he gets him, slipping his fingers against the warmth of Jim's waiting skin. "How the hell could you screw any of this up?" he wonders, given how he genuinely doesn't see that as a possibility. One last kiss to Jim's hair and he eases back. "Come on, she wants to show you the tire swing and I'm pretty sure you're about to get recruited for swinging duty."

"Awesome," Jim exhales, reluctant to leave Bones' side, but bounding down the steps in the next moment to catch up with Jo. "Always wanted one of these myself," he admits, holding the rope steady for her to climb on, free hand catching her before she can overbalance. "How high do you want to go?"

Jo climbs on cautiously after checking with McCoy -- no more than a precious glance from daughter to father to verify that she's safe in Jim's hands. As far as McCoy's concerned, there are no safer. He settles in front of the tire swing to catch her just in case she flies too high (which is a problem with Jim). "I want to go high," she demands, blue eyes shining imperiously as she flips her dark hair in a whip and grips tight to the tire. "Grandma says you must be made of magic, because you got Daddy to go up into space. I don't believe that, though. There's no such thing."

"You're right," Jim agrees with a broad smile, because that's at least true of her world, if not the island's. He pushes her into motion, determined to build gently to a higher arc. "Everything can be explained with science, but sometimes, science is so cool, it seems like magic!"

"I don't think it's that cool," she says dismissively, clinging tighter onto the rope, turning her head each time she spins away from Jim (in order to get a better look at him). "It's really coolest when you have to go in and negotiate and you end up showing off your military might!"

"Who the hell's been talking like that to you?" McCoy asks, semi-horrified. "Is this Clay?"

"It's just kids at school, Daddy," Joanna replies, rolling her eyes as if it ought to be common knowledge.

Equally wide-eyed, if a little more pleased than Bones looks right now, Jim touches the edge of her tire to make it spin. "Maybe not cool," he says, "but oftentimes necessary. But we try to use our might as a last resort, and do you know why? Because we beam down to a new planet, we're the guests, and it's not nice to threaten your hosts when you could all get along instead."

McCoy shifts around to the back of the tire swing, taking solace in the fact that he can wrap his arms around Jim's waist from back here and hope that Jo doesn't notice it much. "Listen to the man, kiddo, he's talking a good diplomacy game," he murmurs, brushing his soft smile against the skin of Jim's neck.

Jim grins, resisting the urge to lean into Bones too hard. "We're prepared for anything out there, though," he adds, "Just to be safe. The entire crew has to go through combat training and learn to use a phaser, your daddy included."

That gets Jim a hard pinch at the hip, seeing as he doesn't want to encourage his precious baby girl to start using weapons to that degree. "Or," he says heavily, "we can use our words instead of things that kill people because it's first do no harm, right?"

"The Hippo oath," Jo agrees dutifully.

"Yeah. Close enough," McCoy agrees with a fond smile on his face, leaning in to press a hard kiss to Jo's nose when she gets close enough. "I love you kiddo, you know that, right? No matter what."

Jim can't help the arm he slides around Bones' waist when Jo spins away again. "She really is great, Bones," he murmurs. "Smart as a tack, and sassy. I'm going to remember the Hippo oath, by the way."

It's all perfect.

It's perfect and it doesn't exist. As much as that pains him, it's wonderful in the same vein and he hates the fact that he wants to laugh and cry at around about the same time right now. "She's my daughter," he says, getting the words out. "She's a good girl," he murmurs, meaning it wholeheartedly. "Listen, Jim, go wait upstairs for me, will you?"

"Okay," says Jim, but there's a note in Bones' voice that has him reaching out to cup his jaw, waiting for Bones to meet his eyes. "Hey, everything okay?"

"I don't know," he admits, seeing as that's the truth and he's not sure he ever wants to lie to Jim. Not anymore. He chances a glance at Joanna and when the coast is clear, he leans in for a slow kiss, giving him a light push. From there, it's fairly easy to lift Jo up into his arms, carrying her inside and giving his mother a kind suggestion to take Joanna out for lunch and to buy some new clothes and charge it to his account.

"And how long will Jim need?" his mother asks curiously.

McCoy's fairly sure the shade of tomato red he's gone hasn't yet been recorded. "Just be back for dinner," he grumbles, heading upstairs and only feeling secure when he hears the lock click.

"Hey," Jim says when Bones enters at last, turning from where he's been inspecting the holos on the dresser. Bones looks flushed, but his eyes are dry; still, Jim's voice is worried when he asks again, "Everything good?"