leftwithmybones | (no subject)

It's one hell of a strange thing to look forward and hate a day simultaneously to this degree.

Hell, in the years that Jim wasn't on the island, he didn't know what to do, so he wound up getting drunk in Jim's stead. Now, with Jim back, the tradition returns. True, it's not gonna be the same, what with the lack of assholes to pick a fight with and the fact that this is the first year they're engaged and he's coping with the memories he knows Jim would rather not have. Something in McCoy says it has to be a good one, as a result.

It's why he's grateful he's got the Saurian brandy tucked away. There's two full bottles of the stuff left, but after tonight, there'll only be one. Bottle lazily clasped between two fingers, the night booked off, and wearing comfortable clothes, McCoy's ready to drink until his insides implode.

He sets the bottle down in front of Jim, tilting the bottle until the label shows. "Whatever you're doing, stop," he instructs. "We're starting your celebrations. Now."

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"Then give me the bottle," Jim exhales. He still feels too warm, old grief and the threat of new loss making him anxious, nerves too raw and jumpy despite the weight of Bones pressing down on him.

"Fuck, I hate this day."

"Trust me, I know," he growls, handing over the bottle and trying to get both feet on the ground so he can stand like an adult man instead of sitting in Jim's lap like he's no more than sixteen. "That's not gonna be enough. We should head to one of the bars for a second bottle of something since I'm pretty sure we'll go blind if we mix Saurian brandy and the swill from the still."

"You gonna keep me in line?" Jim asks, mouth pulled up in a small smile that manages not to look half miserable. "Unlike home, I'll actually feel bad if I end up decking somebody here."

"Plan is, we go in and get the bottle using up as much volunteer time as we got," McCoy says, like he's been planning this day for months (and he sort of has been). "And then we bring that and the brandy somewhere isolated so you don't assault anyone and I don't throw up on their shoes."

"Drunken romp in the jungle," says Jim, smile growing. "That sounds safe." He holds out his hands, expecting Bones to haul him up. "Set phasers to stun?"

"Huh, guess that's right. This is the first year we're doing this tradition while you and I are sleeping together, huh," he drawls, shrugging seeing as it only just occurred to him and it's not like it matters. "If we're doing any drunken romping, though, we're coming back to the nice, warm, cozy bed."

He reaches out for Jim's hand, hauling him up to his feet with ease.

"Or a nice, comfy sleeping bag," says Jim, who, true to form, has already decided that all options at once are what he wants. He fits his hands back to Bones' hips. "You find me another birthday bottle, I guarantee I'll keep you warm no matter where we are, Bones."

"One track mind," he growls, but he doesn't exactly mind so much when Jim's holding him the way he is. He gives Jim a bemused look and swats his hand away, capturing the bottle in his hand. "Come on, one quick pit-stop and then we're back to drinking the day away. If we're good, we can black out for a large chunk of it."

"Maybe I'll remember this one." Sliding a hand around the back of Bones' neck, Jim brings their foreheads together. "Circumstances being what they are, there's a whole new world of distractions open to us now. Maybe I'll want to remember them."

"Well, whatever you do with me, just remember that I want to be able to walk after all this is done," he jokes wryly, leaning in to press a kiss to Jim's lips. "Got that? Walking isn't optional."

"As I recall," says Jim, "From...my next to last birthday, in fact, you fit quite neatly over my shoulder. Just don't get any drool on my ass this time. Well." Jim raises both brows. "Unless we're naked. Then you can put that mouth wherever you want it."

"Maybe I've gained weight, huh? I'm getting close to marriage, I'm allowed to let myself go now," he points out with a smirk, trying to figure out which bar to get the booze from. "And shut up about the naked part," he grumbles. "One track minded asshole."

Jim doesn't even try to look ashamed, still smirking when he slips into their closet for a sleeping bag. "Just in case," he says airily upon his return. "If I pass out, I want somewhere warm to sleep, and my preferred bed - " he says, poking Bones' side, "Will complain about my sharp elbows."

"Yeah, you have sharp elbows," he replies, agreeing without even a moment of hesitation. "Don't blame me that you don't have enough fat over a couple parts of your body." He still smirks right back at Jim, fond as ever. "You know, we could always grab a bed at the Compound temporarily?"