leftwithmybones | (no subject)

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McCoy has passed righteous indignation roughly an hour ago and he's slid right into a comfortable niche where he's mad as hell and he's just not going to take it anymore. He'd been relieved and proud to get the signatures needed, but when he'd stopped to hand them in and ask how Jim's had come along, they'd told him that Jim had dropped his name out of the running.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why, even though McCoy's got about ten on hand in order to give him an answer. He tugs at the sleeves of his long emerald green henley and paces back and forth outside of the farmhouse, trying to find some kind of sanity or sense or calm words that will help him out.

He's got nothing.

Instead, he's going to go in guns blazing. He's going to kick down the door and he's going to let himself be mad as hell. He doesn't bother knocking, using his shoulder as leverage to get the door open. "Hey!" he snaps, voice booming through the house (and probably scaring the cat while he's at it). "Jim Idiot Tiberius Kirk. Where the fuck are you?" he demands, pushing his hand heatedly through his hair one more time and managing to dislodge it from its hold.

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For a moment, his mouth goes dry from the suggestion and the image. Then, all he can do is let out a small sound, swallowing back a comment as he arranges his face into composure. "I could manage with the divetackling."

"I am out of the doghouse," Jim observes, sliding a hand comfortably into Bones' back pocket. He doesn't quite feel steady, a little shaken up by the conversation still, but if there's anything that will set Jim to rights again, it's surely molesting Bones.

"Right now?"

"I didn't mean divetackling right now, I thought you could be a bit more graceful," he mutters, shaking his head. "Maybe ease me down into bed, sweet-talk me by telling me all the things I ought to say in my speech. Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll even let you dress me for the speech."

"You think divetackling is more graceful than caveman carry?" Jim asks, both brows raised. "I will remember that."

Smoothing his hands over Bones' waist, now, he deliberates. "Don't wear this henley. Everyone will be consumed with lust and not listen to anything you say. On the other hand, it might win you even more votes."

"So that's what that look was," he says, the epiphany striking him hot and fast. "Jesus, and here I just thought you were having one of your little brain aneurysms," he rumbles, sliding back into Jim's touch with a content smirk. "So, wear this henley?"

"Could've been a henley induced aneurysm," Jim murmurs, a little addled for the green flecks in Bones' eyes, all the more prominent for his shirt. "Maybe save it for your acceptance speech, so I can rip it off of you after."

"You're assuming I'm gonna win," McCoy says with a heavy scowl, shooting Jim a displeased look. "What happened to not jinxing me? Huh? What happened to seeing if I even make it through speeches without puking all over some person's poor shoes."

"I'm still doing all that," Jim replies, fingers on the buttons of that henley now, undoing them one by one until he can see the jut of collarbone. "I'm not the only one who thinks you're amazing, Bones," he murmurs, dipping his head to set lips to warm skin. "You'll see."

He catches himself swaying forward into Jim's touch, catching his breath as he stares at the fingers on his shirt. It's a lot to cope with at once and his brain isn't doing the best job processing it all. "Yeah?" he murmurs. "Is everyone else going to give me this first-class treatment?"

Jim's eyes narrow. "Better not," he says, dragging his nose along Bones' collarbone, lips pressing to the hollow of his throat. "Or you really will get caveman carried off."

"Didn't know you had this much of a jealous side, Captain," McCoy murmurs with a smirk on his lips, arching a brow as he takes him in. "Don't know if I like it. You might have to convince me."

"You like it," Jim counters, straightening up. "Because you're the smartest guy I know, and - " His hands slide up Bones' sides, the cotton warm beneath his palms when he frames Bones' broad shoulders, follows the long line of his back to his ass. "My jealous side comes with perks."

His hips shift and he leans his weight into Jim, a raised brow arising as he comes closer and lets Jim touch him wherever he damn well pleases. "Yeah?" he murmurs, but his voice is rough and hoarse and there's a part of him that can't shut off the part of his mind thinking about Council. "Never had a jealous partner before."

"Never?" Jim pulls back. "I know this goes without saying, but Joce was a freaking moron." He takes another look at Bones in that henley. "Moron." Raising a brow, he adds, "You have anywhere to be right now?"

"Never thought I'd say this, but leave my ex-wife alone," he grumbles, shooting Jim a disbelieving look as he takes in a deep breath. "Thought I'd yell at you for a little while before I went back to work. I'm trying to put together a cocktail injection for infants. You want me to put that off, Captain?"

"Maybe," says Jim, releasing him to lean against the wall, coincidentally the one between Bones and the door. "If it's important, especially if it's something you can add to your speech, you probably better work. Unless you're not done yelling at me."

"Think I'm all hoarse, now," he murmurs, making sure his voice gets all the appropriate rough and tough that it deserves. "Want me to yell at you some more? I got some choice insults about your presumption that I'm not going to decline."

Jim looks abruptly furious, but before he's even got one outraged breath in him his face begins to smooth. "You'd've done it by now," he says, "Now you're just being mean."

"I'm not joking, Jim," he says, giving him a dubious look. "What if I'd decided that I couldn't take the pressure of the speeches and dropped out? Huh? I'm gonna try, of course I damn well will, but you know life. It's unpredictable and..."

He exhales and leans in closer to Jim. "And you're right, I probably wasn't ever going to decline. Next time, though, it's your turn to run."

"Maybe we'll both run," says Jim, jaw set in a stubborn line. "You can get through the speeches, Bones. You can get through all of it, and you can do a great job on the Council. That's not a prediction, that's just the truth."

He inhales deeply and tries to use Jim's words as a convincer. He is going to do it well because he can, damn it. That's what he has to believe, even if it's damn hard to do so. "You really think?" he says, genuinely worried for the first time and letting it show.

"Bones." Pushing away from the wall, Jim takes Bones' face in his hands, his smile gentle, but sure. "I do. I know you, Bones. You're going to work yourself up, and you're going to stress yourself out, but only because you want to do good. And that's exactly why you will, Bones."

He smooths his thumbs over Bones' cheeks. "This place matters to you, it matters as much to you as my ship ever did to me. You'll take amazing care of it."

If he concentrates, he'll feel Jim's touch over his cheeks and can imagine the way they trace the blush. "You're damn right I'm going to work myself into a little ball of stress over this," he mutters, shaking his head. "And yeah, it matters. You matter more, though," he says, wanting Jim to know that right down to his bones.

"I do like being the center of attention," Jim replies, slinging an arm comfortably around Bones' waist. "You're going to be fine at the speeches, you're going to get elected, and you're going to do good. I'd bet the Enterprise on it."

He's staring at Jim with a reverent adoration, still unsure how he's managed to get this in his life. "Sometimes, you make me feel like I'm dreaming my life away. You seem too damn good to be true, Jim. Absolutely."

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chasedthestars - 2012-11-27 22:22 (UTC) - Expand

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leftwithmybones - 2012-11-28 04:04 (UTC) - Expand

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