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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"Where's a baby Russian genius when you need one, huh?" he mumbles, taking the care to swallow the food and lick the syrup off his lower lip before he replies. He does smile fondly when Jim takes his stomach into account because no, he doesn't think he could survive a jump. "Tell you what. How about you get your Captain's uniform on and we go back to your quarters, sir?"

"Going back to my quarters doesn't usually warrant me putting clothes on," Jim observes, but he's intrigued, all the moreso watching Bones's tongue work at his lip.

"You gonna tear it off me?"

"Maybe I had a fantasy or two about you in that gold," he says, deliberately nonchalant. "Actually, better idea. Wear that wraparound thing they gave you for certain diplomacy missions," he suggests. "And maybe you can practice your negotiating tactics on me."

"The slutty green one?" asks Jim with a chuckle. "Man, that one's too saucy even for me, and you know that's saying something. How about I put it on, if you tell me about your fantasies in gold?"

"You know. Idle thoughts while I'm on the bridge. Mostly to see what the shade of your red flush will do when I mark it against the gold of your shirt. Or just seeing what happens when the rips aren't from some invasive alien species, but me ripping it off you before you undergo a severe physical encounter," he narrates, licking the last of the syrup off the plate. "Sound good, peaches?"

"Severe physical encounter, huh?" Jim asks, warming considerably to the idea. "Jesus, stop licking things, or we'll never make it to my room." Dragging his finger through the last sticky drop on the plate, Jim holds it to Bones' mouth. "One for the road?"

"I'm already half-naked," McCoy points out, reclining back against Uhura's communications chair with his knees apart, shaking his head when Jim extends a finger to him. He shifts to the edge of the seat and sucks the finger in slow, then lets it pop on the way out before taking it in again. "I'm just saying that there's no one here right now, so if you ever did want that sex in the captain's chair, this is the only time I'll agree to it."

"It is big enough for once," Jim notes, shifting from left to right within its confines. "You know, not everything that's mine is bigger because I'm Captain. That's all in your jealous mind, Bones."

Jim leans forward in the chair, enjoying Bones' half naked sprawl. "You think you're flexible enough, Doctor?"

"I don't even have a damn chair up here," he complains, but it's his own fault that he ends up on the bridge standing and watching Jim do what he does best. It's because he likes watching it, loves seeing Jim in his element. "Get up," he instructs, stalking across the bridge so he can tap at Jim's shoulder and get him up from the chair.

Jim raises his eyebrows, but gets up with a, "Yes, sir," watching Bones with interest. He looks just like he does in the bedroom, mussed and shirtless and at ease, and Jim can't quite resist slipping his hands around Bones' waist.

"Tease," he whispers at Jim, slinging one of his legs over the arm of the chair and inching backwards until his shoulderblades are supported by the other arm, giving Jim a curious look. "You have lube up here, Captain?"

With just enough grace to flush, Jim pushes a button beneath one of the armrests and pulls out a small tube. "I thought, you know. Just in case."

Setting it aside for the moment, he pulls Bones up. "Make out with me a while first," he says. "Check off two fantasies in one."

McCoy lightly stops Jim with a palm pressed to his shoulder and a pointed look in his direction. "In case you got lucky with me or in case you got lucky in general?" he drawls, since he can't really imagine when Jim might've snuck that up here.

"In case of any lube related emergency!" says Jim with a wide, innocent smile. "Like if Chekov got his hand stuck in his terminal again. At least, that's what he said he and Sulu were doing. Wiring problem, something about things not slotting together right?"

"You're an idiot," Bones huffs out, but he lets his hand loosen and slides his fingers into Jim's hair to pull him closer, adjusting so they can lazily make out in the captain's chair as long as they want without his back developing a painful cramp. "Lucky thing is, I still love you," he mumbles against Jim's lips.

He snorts, thinking of what Sulu or Chekov would say if they saw this.

Jim doesn't disagree, sliding onto the chair with Bones. It's a little awkward - the thing isn't meant for two bodies, and especially not two bodies doing this, but it's still pretty great.

"Wait," Jim murmurs against Bones' lips, tapping something into his console. There's an answering series of beeps, and then the view screen comes to life, awash in a dazzling simulation of distant stars. Viewed like this, it's not so sad bastard after all.

For just a second, his stomach swoops out from under him and he's left struggling for composure, but inevitably he finds it. He turns his attention back to Jim and wraps his arms snugger around his waist to keep him in and keep him close, possessive and protective. Part of him wishes they could stay like this -- grounded with only the stars in memory to guide them -- but he knows Jim would never choose that and Bones will always choose Jim. Always.

Jim settles against him, kisses turning slow and deep, the hum of a ship in flight cradling him as surely as Bones' arms. Something blooms, warm and aching in his chest, and Jim has to pull back from the kiss, take Bones' face in his hands. "Thank you," he says again. "For all of this."

"It's what you do when you love someone," is his calm and earnest response, completely honest in every way. "And I do, you know," he says, trying to skirt around the fact that he's awkward as hell when he's trying to tell Jim that he loves him. "More than...more than anyone before."

"I know," says Jim, smoothing his thumbs over Bones' cheeks. He doesn't know how he deserves it, but he believes Bones, and it means as much as the Enterprise ever could, that Bones could pledge his life to someone else and find he loves Jim even more.

"It's because I'm prettier than her," he says, and means to be cheekier, but his eyes are full of wonder.

"You're not, but good try," he replies, and he's teasing too because Jim's prettier than most without even trying. It's those damn blue eyes and his charming ego that makes McCoy want to punch him before he kisses him, but it all works together. "She never would've let me puke on her shoes and stick in my life," he admits with a light nip at Jim's lower lip.

"She doesn't know what kind of projectile fluids she's missing," says Jim with raised brows. "Well." He palms Bones erection over his boxers. "Maybe she knows some of them."

"You're such an asshole," he growls. "I should've slept with someone with a romantic bone in their body," he says, but he doesn't mean a single word of it because there's a stupid part of him that actually likes it when Jim's like this. Clearly, he's the idiot and the asshole. "She had my kid," he retorts. "Think she knows about 'em all."

"Do you think this is what most people talk about when they're about to have sex?" Jim muses, running his hands over the planes of the bare chest in front of him. "Puking and kids and fluids?"

"We're not even close to normal people," McCoy scoffs and leans in for a possessive kiss that's meant to be something beyond gentle. "What do you want to talk about? You want to talk about how good you feel inside me?"