leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

He's so damn cold.

Every time that the winter rolls around, his bones ache right down to the very bottom of his stomach. He's bundled up in three damn layers and he's got a thick coat on and he's inside. He's inside and he's staring up at the mistletoe that's popped up in the middle of their new little townhouse -- which looks nice enough, even if it's not the home he built for himself.

And now, he's got a strange place to live, he's stuck under the mistletoe, and he's so damn cold -- the scarf around his neck only barely starting to warm him up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah, I could use the warming up," McCoy agrees with another shiver, though he's not sure if it's the cold or if it's because of how Jim makes him feel. He wraps a hand around Jim's neck and pulls him in for one last kiss when the mistletoe's released him. "What were you out doing?"

"Just fucking around," Jim replies, rubbing his hands up Bones' arms to get his blood flowing. "It's the closest thing to home we've seen so far out there, at least planetside. I tried poking around in a few cars but I got yelled at."

"You, getting yelled at," McCoy notes dryly. "Can't imagine why." He rubs at his backside. "I took a slip on the ice, couldn't help myself. This ain't what I like in the winter. I like a little damp, a little briskness." He finally starts unwinding his scarf. "Have to appreciate the new digs, though."

"Aw, baby," says Jim in honest concern, helping Bones out of his scarf and moving behind him, searching for damage. "You gotta be careful on that ice, you could crack your head open."

"My head, break my leg, maybe a hand," he mutters as he keeps untwining himself from the winter trappings, grumbling when the scarf gets stuck in one of the buttonholes of the coat. "It's a goddamn dangerous mess out there. It's a hazard!"

"It's nature," says Jim, trying not to smile as he extracts Bones from the tormenting scarf. Leaning up, he kisses Bones on the tip of his red nose. "How long did you spend cursing out the sidewalk?"

"Damn long enough," he grumbles and lets Jim take over when it comes to untangling duty, giving him a grateful look as he submits to the opposite of torture. "I think the bruises are finally coming in, though. I got my share of black and blue all over."

"That is the saddest thing I've ever heard," says Jim, mostly sincere, if only because Bones looks so put upon. "How about I draw you a bath, huh, warm you up and relax you all at once? We might as well make use of this giant bathtub while we have it."

McCoy closes his eyes and leans into Jim's touch as he thinks about that nice warm bath and lets out a fond sigh. "You going to come in and warm me up? Relax me?" he asks, sliding his fingers down the arms of the coat, pushing it off and letting it pool on the ground.

"I don't know if you'll stay relaxed for long," Jim laughs, but it's an improvement on his idea for sure. "I'll rub your shoulders for a while to keep up the pretense?"

He starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, reaching back with his free hand to grasp at Jim's fingers lightly and bring him along to the stairs. "Want to hear about my syllabus for my class? I finished it up today, figure it'll be real riveting."

"I have been wondering about that," Jim confesses, happy to trail behind Bones and enjoy the view. He reaches with his own free hand to bare Bones' shoulder as the buttons loose, pressing his lips to the spot.

"It's going to be fourteen weeks of terror, isn't it? Teaching them all the ways they could murder themselves just going out the door?"

"I'm saving up my rant on diseases for the last week," he promises, grinning freely when Jim kisses him on the shoulder. He turns, able to walk up the steps backwards from here. "Might need your help when I get to physical fitness and diet. I'm gonna need a good bad-example."

"Excuse you, I'm in peak condition," Jim replies, grabbing Bones hips. "That goddamn cardio class sees to that, and so will boxing, a class in which I can and will take my revenge."

"It's not the exercise that's bad," he retorts, barely stifling his grin when he collides into Jim. So sue him, the cold weather's got him warming up in ways that're making him happy. Add in the responsibilities of patients and Council and he feels like he's living. "Your diet, Captain."

"It's not that bad," Jim insists, steering Bones up the last few stairs and down the hall to their admittedly, pretty sweet bathroom. "I'm making up for years of synthesized protein cubes, and I'm not done yet!"

"And it's why you're going to write down everything you eat for a two-week period, so it's on record," he replies, mimicking Jim's tone as he arches a brow pointedly at him. "For me."

"No fair making me write it all down just to shame me in front of my peers," says Jim, halfway to a honest pout when his gaze drops, regarding the clasp of Bones' jeans with interest. "Everything I eat?"

"Every single thing you..." And then his brain catches up with him and he slaps the back of Jim's head. "Don't make me regret still wanting to give you that," he says, in the midst of an eyeroll. "Food! Food products that you put in your mouth on a...why do I bother?"

"It's got nutritional value," says Jim with a shrug, rubbing his head as they pass into the bathroom. Beginning to strip out of his clothes, he shows Bones a cheeky smile. "If I'm not honest I'll ruin your study."

"There are children in my class," he grumbles, following after Jim as he sheds his socks and shoes, getting down to nothing but his tight black boxers. "You're expected to show up to at least three of my classes. Nothing less," he warns, with a severe raise of his eyebrow.

"Yep," says Jim, running distracted hands over the smooth skin of Bones' torso. "Three. Whatever you want, babe." Tugging him towards the tub, Jim turns the hot water tap with a limber wriggle of his toes.

"I'll come to all of them."

"You don't want to be there for the STD week," McCoy warns, leaning over to test the temperature of the water (it's not that he doesn't trust Jim, it's just that sometimes he doesn't trust Jim). "There'll be pictures of what it does to your junk."

"My junk in particular?" Jim asks, a worried crease between his brows as he tugs his shirt over his head. "Because you said you erased those pictures. Those were years ago, Bones! I'm reformed."

"You damn well better be, because if I catch anything from you, it's going to be your ass on the couch," he says pointedly, reaching out to help rid Jim of the shirt. He reaches out, tousling Jim's hair lightly. "Not your junk, but someone's. Lots of someones, with lots of lectures about the dangers of too much sex, and unprotected, at that."

"There's no such thing as too much sex," says Jim, undoing his pants and pushing them over his hips. "Unprotected, maybe, if both partners aren't regularly tested. Fortunately."

He grabs Bones' hips to bring their bodies flush together. "That's not a problem for us."

"No, can't see how it would be, what with you and I both being monogamous, now," he murmurs low and fond, a grin spreading over his face as he moves just in the right way to push his hips against Jim's, trying to elicit one of those perfect noises from him. "Besides, thanks to those tapes, I know everything, now."

Jim closes his eyes, throat caught around a low hum of approval as Bones grinds their bodies lightly together. "Not firsthand," he murmurs, opening his eyes again to check the water. "But in this new suite, we can check all kinds of crazy bathroom sex off the list."

"Didn't realize there was a list," he says, but damn if he isn't surprised that there is one. He snorts mildly as he leans over to catch Jim on his way back up, sliding a hand around to the small of his back to hitch him in closer. "C'mon. Get the boxers off, see if the bruises are anything I ought to worry about."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only