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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"Such a tender flower," Jim says, smiling as he approaches, fingers finding Bones' shoulders and kneeding hard. "C'mon," he says, and slips down to tug off Bones' shoes. "Naptime first, and good news!"

Jim grins at his bed. "Since we're in your head, my bed actually is bigger and better than yours, just as you always suspected."

He slips right back into Jim's touch, kicking off the shoes easily. "Naptime just means that you're going to fondle me while I try and sleep," he complains with a grumble, but he does manage to get to his feet, stripping off his shirt in the universal sign that he's ready to get some rest.

He looks so fucking adorable, tired and cranky with his hair all mussed, and he's traveled so far to give Jim this, Jim can't help himself. He grabs Bones by the hips and kisses him, hard at first, and then tender. "Like you'd mind," he murmurs.

He kisses Jim back out of habit and want, but he really and truly is exhausted, practically falling into Jim with the kiss. "I don't mind, but you might just have to have sex with me while I snore," McCoy murmurs, his eyes already half-shut. "Food, then sleep, and then you can do whatever you want with me."

Jim laughs, cupping Bones' ass before he releases him. "Sleep, then food, and then your ass is officially mine, Bones." Steering him towards the bed, Jim kicks off his own shoes. "Actually it's mine before that, too. Prepare to be spooned."

McCoy shifts so that his ass is well-cupped in Jim's hands. "Food," he growls, pinching the inside of his palm to wake himself up some more. "Pancakes," he drawls lazily with a smirk, his smile pressed against Jim's neck.

"You will not seriously be awake by the time it takes me to run down to the mess, make pancakes, and get back up here," says Jim, incredulous. "And you can't go with me because you're half-nude, and it would break my heart to see you put on a shirt again."

Rocking back, Jim considers. "Do I have a yeoman aboard in this fantasy world of yours?"

While Jim's talking, he's unbuckling his jeans button and he pushes them down, stepping out until he's in nothing but the black boxer-briefs he favors, crawling over the covers of Jim's bed and waving a hand absently. "If there's a yeoman on the ship during repairs, then there's one here. My imagination don't run wild," he grumbles.

"There's no yeoman," Jim groans, "Unless you mean me." Which, apparently, Bones does, his face mashed into the pillow even as Jim takes his time walking to the door.

"Okay," he says, "Pancakes," and exits into the hallway. He makes it to the mess, bangs around until he finds what he needs - miraculously, even dairy - and makes Bones a short stack, cooking bacon into the topmost cake in the form of a happy face. He puts the plate and a fork, syrup, and a glass of juice on a tray, and is on his way back when he simply...drifts off.

He's at the bridge before he knows it, tray of food propped against Uhura's communication station. There's nothing to see through the glass but Iowan countryside, but Jim can see them anyway, a million stars flying by, the hum of the ship at work all around him. With an expression cracked wide enough to be wounded, Jim sinks into the Captain's chair, mind filled with the missions of all those months before.

Edited 2012-10-16 02:41 (UTC)

It's about half an hour later that McCoy wakes up from his impromptu nap and realizes that no Jim means no pancakes. He groans and reaches for a black t-shirt, not bothering with shoes or pants. It's his own damn mind and whatever he conjures up in here can deal with his nudity. He stifles a yawn and heads for the most likely destination -- the bridge.

He leans heavily against one of the weapons stations. "What're you doing up here?" he asks, pushing himself away and perching himself on one of the arms of the Captain's chair.

Jim hears the lift swish open, but it's not until Bones speaks that he truly comes back to himself. "I dunno," he murmurs, frowning when he turns to see Bones' sleep mussed hair. "Sorry, I made your pancakes. They're over there."