leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

At the time, it'd seemed like a good idea. They're in some strange fantasy that's made up of moments in his head, they're home, but not home, so why shouldn't he capitalize on the fact and pack a couple bags in the night so he can whisk Jim away to Iowa and the dry-docks. If this is his head, he'll want to make Jim happy and if that's the case, then the Enterprise ought to be in there for repairs.

What he did not prepare for was the fact that even though this is in his head, his goddamn aviophobia hasn't vanished. He's currently sitting in one of the seats in the shuttle, head between his knees and breathing so hard that he thinks he'll never breathe a deep breath again. In short form: he's going to throw up and it'll be the shuttle company's fault for not letting him do it in the bathroom. Another lurch and McCoy groans heavily, sinking even further forward, like he's attempting to melt into the floor.

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"Shut the hell up," McCoy snaps at him. "I don't think that, you know I don't think that. Jesus," he hisses. "I just think that you seemed like you had an easy as hell time going through school and I went crazy every goddamn week with panic and nerves and school and clinicwork. You! You just..."

He shakes his head and grabs at Jim's sleeve one more time to pull him close before he lets go of him. "Name one thing you didn't destroy the world around you to get once you decided you wanted it," he challenges. "You're like that. I'm not. That's all I'm saying."

"You think it will be you," says Jim, and his heart is hammering, but he feels detached, floating, his voice dull. "You think the thing I destroy this time will be you, wanting to be with you on the ship so bad I ruin your career."

He walks into the turbo-lift, thumbing for his deck by habit. Bones needs coffee and food, he thinks, numb - his personal replicator should be working.

He doesn't answer because, well, he's not sure what's going to fall as a result of Jim's blind determination. "How many of your classmates curse you behind your back because of how hard you worked?" he asks quietly, taking a deep breath and following, as much as he'd like to head back to earth. "You're incredible. You're amazing, Jim, and I know you love me, but there's a part of me that doesn't know how long I get to last, even if I want to keep you forever and goddamn ever."

"Nobody cursed me 'cause of how hard I worked," says Jim, watching the levels fly by. "People go to the Academy to learn to be members of a Fleet - the better prepared the crewman next to you, the better off and safer you'll be once you're out there. People resented me because they thought I was Pike's pet, or because of my daddy's bullshit legacy, a late student piggybacking on other people's hard work."

The lift stops and opens, and Jim walks out, pausing in the hall. "Do you want out, Bones? Because you're pretty keen to put an end date on us, and just as ready to say it'll be because of me."

"I don't want out." It's the furthest thing from what he wants, but he can't stop himself from waiting for that other shoe to drop. He follows Jim because he's always going to follow him. "Jim," he says tiredly. "We're having this fight because you don't understand why I want to stay in my own room if, when, if we get back. Think about that. It's a big step and if we are going to be together for the rest of our lives," he says sharply, "don't you think I want to do it without a ship's worth of whispery gossip about how fast the CMO started banging the Captain?"

"Do you think there's a ship's worth of whispery gossip about Spock and Uhura?" Jim asks, eyebrows raised. "There's not, because Uhura shut it down on the few who gossiped, and so did I because I look out for them, and everyone else kept their mouths shut in the first place because we're a crew that respects each other."

Walking towards his room, Jim punches in his code. "How much do they think they'll respect us when they find out we've been lying all along?"

"I don't want to lie! Jesus, Jim, I just want to tell them it's happening without me cohabitating with you and us becoming a unit right away! We're not married, not yet," he pointedly reminds Jim. "And until we are, it's pretty damn normal to keep separate quarters." He rubs his temples, a migraine moving in. "And I'm not Spock! I'm not Uhura! Jim," he growls, "I can't practice medicine in several states. Yeah, I'm cautious, there's a reason for it."

"All right!" Jim barks, and if he was anyone else, one might say he all but flees into his room. His face is too hot, and his throat too tight, and he's agitated enough now that he can't remember all the reasons why anymore.

"Don't move into my quarters." His fucking quarters, god, he's missed them. Everything is just as he left it - the only thing missing now is Bones. "I'm not going to be the next thing that fucks up your life."

He swears he's running in circles with a brick wall coming at him hard. He stands in the doorway of Jim's quarters, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "Why don't you ever goddamn listen to me!" he shouts, loud enough to scare his clinic staff in their tracks. "Your selective hearing isn't cute! Not anymore! I'm not saying never, I'm saying not right away, are you that impatient?"

"Why are you never happy even when I'm giving you exactly what you want?" Jim shouts back at him, whirling from where he's been tinkering with the replicator. "I didn't say never either! Move in when you want to move in, the door will be - " Jim pauses to draw a breath. "It'll be open, and if you never walk through it, it won't be because of me. It'll be for all the reasons you're so scared this isn't going to work."

He's terrified, he is, but he's more terrified that he's going to fuck it up and he'll lose the best thing that ever happened to him. His chest is aching and he stalks forward until he can finagle an arm around Jim's shoulders, wrapping him in and pulling him so close to his torso. "I am scared," he admits. "I've been married, I've seen it fall to flames, and we've already been together, for lack of a better word, for over three years," he admits, hanging his head heavily. "I want us to work, but I got no guide on how to get there."

"Okay," says Jim, resisting the urge to grab at him, "Okay, let's just - I just. I got used to you being right there, and I liked it, but you're right." It hurts to admit, but Bones is right. "Onboard it'll be different. We'll have a mission, and I'll have my crew, and you'll have your staff. We'll have a hell of a lot more than each other to worry about."

McCoy pulls Jim flush against him, kissing against his temple. "And it's going to happen," he says, making sure that Jim is well-aware of the fact that he's in this for the long haul. "I promise," he swears, lips against Jim's skin. "I promise you, darlin', I'm not going anywhere, you're going to have to kick me out of your life."

Jim nods, throwing his arms around Bones' neck now that he has permission. "You just freaked me out," he exhales. "I don't want to mess things up for you, I wasn't really thinking about all the ways I could. You already had enough of that from Jocelyn."

"I wish I could say that you and she are as different as night and day, but I really did love her heart and soul," he admits, which is what makes this harder. He doesn't know how to prevent it from going all wrong again. "Just because we take something slow doesn't mean it's bad. It just means it'll last because we made a strong base."

"Whatever you need," Jim murmurs, and it's terrifying to realize how much he doesn't know, how much he just assumes he can say it will be all right and it will. That might work for him, but who's to say it will for Bones?

"Sorry for being an asshole."

McCoy doesn't dare move, stays right where he is as he presses a slower kiss to Jim's temple. "S'okay, I was an asshole right back to you, 'cept I did it with flair and panic." He shifts enough to peer at the replicator. "So, you gonna feed me or am I expected to put out on an empty stomach?"

"Put out, huh?" Jim asks, eyebrows creeping upwards as he starts to relax. Turning his face against Bones' mouth, he catches his lips with his own, enjoying a long, slow kiss.

"Can't believe you called yourself my sidekick," he murmurs, grinning. "Can I get you a cape with that coffee?"

"Fuck you, Kirk," he growls at him, giving him a light rap on the side of his head. "I can't help that I see the world through truth-coloured glasses," he says, giving him a shove in the ass. "I mean it. Coffee and food or I beam myself down to the nearest diner."

"All right, all right," Jim laughs, heading for the replicator, "Don't get your colored tights in a wad." He smacks at buttons, and the machine beeps, and a moment later he's holding out a cup. "And I definitely think you should call me Captain while we're aboard ship."

"You think you're funny, but you're not," is all McCoy says as he crosses the quarters to sink into Jim's personal chair, slumping over the side. After the panic attack in the shuttle and the ensuing argument, he's got no damn energy left in him to do anything but sit there and maybe take a nap later. "You can call yourself Captain."

"Be nice or I'll get you the green protein cubes," Jim cautions, turning back to the machine to stab at it. "You do realize that my replicator doesn't taste any better than yours just because I'm Captain. They're universally disgusting."

"Right now, I'd take anything," he admits wearily, arching his brow. "Also, is that your offer to cook me something?" He tips his head back until he's staring at Jim upside down. "Because I could do with some good old-fashioned James T. cooking."

"We've have to go down to the mess," says Jim, turning with a raised brow that only arches higher when he sees Bones' slump. "I don't keep a pancake oven under my bed, Bones. And you look like you're either about to fall asleep or melt."

"It's been a long day," he says, the words sticking together as he sinks down into the chair and tries not to fall asleep. He could. He honestly could and then maybe Jim would take off or maybe he wouldn't, but at least he'd get some rest. "Panic attacks and fights don't really go hand in hand."