Fandom & Pairing: Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: around 5800
Summary: Jim's having a really good day. Clearly something's not right.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.
A/N : Written for mamaesme's birthday. Sorry this is so late, bb! It, um, got somewhat longer than I anticipated. Hope you enjoy!
Jim heard the blaring of the alarm, and reached out to turn it off. Instead of hitting the top of his chrono, though, his hand smacked against warm flesh. That was weird. He certainly didn't remember taking anyone to bed last night, and since they were in the middle of deep space and the crew was strictly off-limits, there shouldn't be anyone in his bed. Plus, the air felt all wrong, and smelled all wrong, and the hum of the Enterprise's engines was missing, and --
In the few milliseconds it took for all of this to race through his mind, he was already opening his eyes, and staring straight at the still-sleeping face of his best friend. What the fuck? Why was Bones in his bed? And why were they both -- he peeked under the sheets -- yeah, they were definitely both naked.
He sat up abruptly and looked around wildly. He was on earth, no doubt about it. Something about the quality of the light and the taste of the air was unmistakable. He seemed to be in an apartment -- a pretty swanky one, judging by the size of the room, the understated but obviously expensive decor, and the giant floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a fantastic view of the San Francisco bay.
He'd never been here before in his life. He was sure of it. Only... it seemed vaguely familiar. He realized that the alarm was still beeping annoyingly, and now Bones was stirring. "Turnitoff, Jim, 'stheweekend," he mumbled.
Jim turned the alarm off on the chrono - the same model that he used in his quarters on the Enterprise. Wait, the Enterprise? Wasn't that a Starfleet ship? He'd never been on one of those, not unless you counted the one where he was born, but of course he had no memory of that. Okay, whatever was happening was weirding him the fuck out, but first things first. He really had to piss.
He got up, wandered into the bathroom, took a leak, and was halfway through brushing his teeth when he realized how normal this felt. The green toothbrush was his. The blue was Bones'. Jim's beard suppressor was sitting in their medicine cabinet next to the old-fashioned safety razor that Bones preferred, along with an assortment of toiletries belonging to one or both of them. He knew that bottle of aftershave -- he'd given it to Bones on his last birthday. A sense of wrongness, almost an anti-déjà vu, overcame him. No, he damn well hadn't. Bones' last birthday had been the day that away mission to Epsilon VI had gone awry, and he'd spent it in sickbay, with Bones' worried face hovering over him... the memory melted away. Away mission? Sickbay? What was wrong with him? He was starting to hallucinate or something. He'd better ask Bones about it.
Speaking of Bones, it was a Saturday morning and Bones was naked in bed and there was no way in hell he was going to waste that opportunity. Bones was grumpy in the morning -- well, okay, he was grumpy most times, but he was especially grumpy in the morning. But Jim could usually improve his mood with some judiciously applied sexual shenanigans. He checked the mirror, flattened down his crazy bed-hair with a little water, and swaggered back out into the bedroom. Oh, yeah, he was going to make it really good for his husband this morning.
Husband? A slightly panicked voice in the back of his head insisted that this was wrong, but he glanced at his left hand, at the gold band that was a familiar, comforting weight there, and told the little voice to shut up. Clearly all was right with the world. He was Bones', and Bones was his, just as it was meant to be.
He climbed onto the foot of the bed, lifting up the fluffy down comforter and crawling his way up Bones' body. Well, partway up, anyway. Until he got to the really interesting bits. It was warm and dark under the covers, and it smelled like sex and Bones. Mmmm, his favorite combo. He wrapped his hand, still cold from the water he'd used to brush his teeth and rinse his mouth, around Bones' half-hard cock. Bones, as expected, gave an indignant yelp and pulled up the covers, peering blearily at Jim. Jim blinked back at him innocently. "Problem, Bones?"
"You and your goddamn cold hands are the problem. And Jim, do not tell me you were plannin' on puttin' that in your mouth, not with where it was last night."
Bones' accent was slightly thicker first thing in the morning, before he'd fully woken up. It was one of the many things that Jim loved about him. The thought reverberated through him and some distant part of him was surprised, but he didn't know why. Of course he loved Bones, loved everything about him, especially the quirks that only he knew about, like the thing with his accent.
He couldn't hold back his grin. "Awww, but Bones, you know I love swallowing your cock for breakfast."
Bones groaned and closed his eyes briefly. "You're enough to tempt an angel to sin, James Kirk-McCoy, but I'm not treating you for dysentery. Use your mouth later, after we've showered. For now, if you're so all-fired eager, get on top and ride me. That way I can get a few more winks in."
Jim laughed, the sound free and easy and a bit strange to his own ears. God, he had the best life imaginable. That stupid little voice whispered no, I don't; this isn't mine, but he resolutely ignored it.
He inched upward, licking random patterns across Bones' abdomen and chest, teasing his nipples and then moving away from them. He loved the way Bones' muscles rippled subtly under his tongue, the way goosebumps rose on his skin when Jim blew on the damp patches he'd left behind. This was so much better than anything or anyone he'd ever had before. How had he gotten so lucky?
That was a good question, actually, and he couldn't... quite... remember. "Hey Bones, how'd we meet?"
Bones, predictably, groaned. "You're gonna stop what you're doing to quiz me right now?"
"Humor me. I'll make it worth your while."
"You better, you tease. All right, way I recall it, I was enjoying a nice glass of bourbon in one of the city's finer drinking establishments -- "
Jim snorted, a vague memory of a younger, drunker McCoy sitting amidst a dozen empties in a grimy dive swimming into his mind. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bones pre-empted him.
"Hey, who's tellin' this story, you or me? You wanted my version, shuddup and listen," Bones' tone was cranky, but his fingers gently playing with Jim's hair belied the harsh words. Jim subsided, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
"You, naturally, had gotten yourself in a heap of trouble by sleeping with a woman who had a gorilla for a boyfriend. Not that I knew it at the time. No, all I knew was that you sat down next to me, said 'For fuck's sake, play along with me,' and then you kissed me, full on the mouth."
"And you loved it," Jim said confidently.
"I hardly remember it, you egomaniac."
"That's because you were drunk as a skunk. But trust me, it was the best kiss of your life."
"I'll have to take your word for it," Bones said, rolling his eyes mightily. "Anyway, then the gorilla was right in our faces and you were trying to convince him that you were gay and totally committed to your boyfriend -- that'd be me, a total stranger -- and you never would have touched his girlfriend. You used the phrase 'girls are icky,' if I remember correctly. And then I said 'I may throw up on you' to the gorilla -- "
"And then you did. All over those stupid purple shoes of his," Jim interrupted, sighing in contentment. It had been one of the highlights of his existence.
"Uh-huh. And I swear he swelled up to twice his former size and was about to kick the shit out of both of us, until I told him I had a highly contagious case of Andorian shingles and next thing after the vomiting was bleeding from the eyeballs."
"I never knew anything that massive could run so fast," Jim put in.
"Then, to repay me for saving your life -- " Jim made a skeptical noise, and Bones swatted him on the back of the head. "As I was saying, in return for saving your life, you took me back to your place, cleaned me up, listened to me spill the whole sorry story of my divorce, and then convinced me that since I was soured on women for the foreseeable future, I ought to take up with a man. Then you clung onto me like a limpet and I've never been able to get rid of you. The end."
"Such a romantic tale, Bones. I think I might swoon."
"Swoon some other time, princess. For now, I believe you promised me you'd make it worth my while if I told you what you damn well already knew."
"Mm, I think you're right. And I always keep my promises."
"Less talk, more action."
Jim couldn't argue with that, so he shut his mouth ostentatiously. Then he had to open it again to kiss Bones -- he never could resist those full lips. Bones chuckled into the kiss, but it turned into a moan as Jim really focused on what he was doing with his tongue. He loved knowing exactly what made Bones tick, and how to take him apart, make him lose control.
Bones' slightly sour morning breath warred with his own crisp mintiness in a familiar way -- he was almost always up and about before Bones, and he usually woke Bones up with a kiss. And now, like usual, Bones was getting caught up in it, his hands coming up to stroke gently up and down Jim's sides as Jim moved to straddle him. Their awakening erections bumped gently against each other, causing sparks of pleasure to run up Jim's spine. His back arched involuntarily, pushing his cock harder against Bones', and Bones groaned in response, digging his fingers into Jim's hips.
"Enough teasin', darlin', I want to be inside you," Bones rasped.
Jim snickered -- he'd barely teased at all -- but he took pity on Bones and rose up onto his knees. The remnants of last night's lube and come were still inside of him, and he felt relaxed, loose and stretched already, so he sank down slowly onto Bones' cock without further preparation. He drew in a breath at the feeling. It was always so good, taking Bones in, making him a part of his own body, the way Bones was already a part of his soul. It was corny, but it was true, and there was no point in denying it. He watched the way Bones' neck arched and his head tossed restlessly on the pillow as Jim slowly moved up and down over him.
Their hands found each other's, their fingers interlacing naturally as they moved together. They weren't racing to finish -- they had all the time in the world.
"Look at me, baby," Jim surprised himself by saying -- since when did he do something as trite as looking into his partner's eyes during sex? But Bones didn't seem put off, and turned his head until his soft hazel eyes met Jim's. As if that was the key that unlocked Bones' voice, he started pouring out a string of endearments, all the while gazing steadily at Jim.
"Oh, yeah, sweetheart, just like that. Darlin', you're so good. So good to me. You always give me what I need, baby, don't you? Oh -- Oh, Jim -- Yeah, right there. Feels so good. You're mine, sugar, all mine, aren't you? I'm never gonna let go of you, baby. Ah, Jim, yeah, fuck, like that. Oh fuck yeah, just like that, darlin'. Don't stop. I'm gettin' close, Jim. So close. Touch yourself for me. Wanna watch you. Wanna see you -- oh yeah, baby, yeah, that's what I want. Don't look away, sweetheart. Wanna see those beautiful blue eyes when you come for me. Yeah, that's it. Oh, Jim, yeah -- fuck -- gonna -- oh -- "
Bones went incoherent, letting out a heartfelt groan as he shuddered and came, deep within Jim's body. Bones' seed inside him, warm and wet, was the sweetest and filthiest thing Jim had ever felt. But wait, that was wrong; he'd felt it before, many times, and it was always like this. Always amazing. Whatever -- who had time for coherent thought anyway when they'd just been fucked so thoroughly and oh yeah, now he was about to come too, straddling his best friend -- lover -- husband, looking into Bones' beautiful eyes while he stroked himself closer and closer, holding one of Bones' hands while the other raced over his cock, biting his lip, Bones still shuddering through his own aftershocks, their gaze never faltering, his own orgasm approaching -- oh fuck, yeah, there it was. Right -- there. Jim came hard, throwing his head back as a guttural yell ripped from his throat.
He was still shaking with the force of it as he leaned forward and down into Bones' waiting arms. He was probably heavy, resting all his weight on Bones this way, but right now he couldn't've moved if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to. Bones was murmuring meaningless words, stroking his back and his hair and Jim thought maybe it would be all right with him if this moment went on forever.
Of course, it didn't. No more than three minutes later Jim was feeling restless, sticky with sweat and come and bursting with too much energy to be satisfied holding so still. He squirmed a bit. Bones gave a low, indulgent laugh and smacked his ass lightly. "Go on, get showered and dressed; we're meeting your parents for brunch in an hour."
There was something wrong with that statement. Jim's brow wrinkled. "Eww, Bones, please don't ever mention my parents again while you have your dick up my ass." There, that was better.
Bones' answering chuckle rumbled through Jim's body. "I'll keep it in mind, darlin'. Now get off me; you're heavy."
Jim disentangled himself and got up, making his way back into the bathroom, getting into the shower. He heard Bones moving around in the bathroom too, peeing and washing his hands and brushing his teeth.
"Are Sam and Aurelan coming to brunch?" Bones asked indistinctly through a mouthful of toothpaste.
"Yeah, and the boys too. They couldn't find a sitter," Jim called back. He heard Bones rinse and spit.
"Good lord. Those kids are monsters. It's no wonder no one wants to babysit them. You couldn't pay me enough to deal with those miscreants."
"But you love me, so you do it for free," Jim sing-songed.
"I do it for Sam and Aurelan, because they're lovely people and they deserve a break once in a while. Sam twice over, because he had to grow up with you and now he has to raise three of your little doppelgangers. What a truly horrifying thought."
"Whatever. You do it because we're family."
"I believe that's what I just said, Jim."
Jim shut off the water and toweled himself dry as Bones stepped around him to start up his own shower, too scaldingly hot for Jim's comfort.
"Oh, Jim, that reminds me. When's the opening reception for your new building? I've got to put in for time off at the hospital, and we should tell your folks and Sam and Aurelan the details so they can plan for it. My parents are going to take a shuttle in from Georgia."
"What? Why does everyone want to go? It's not that big of a deal. It's going to be boring anyway, mostly a lot of speeches."
Bones poked his head around the shower curtain and stared at Jim in disbelief. "Jim, you're the youngest Pritzker Prize-winning architect in history, and you've just designed the brand new Museum of Starfleet History. Of course everyone wants to be there to cheer you on."
Jim squirmed uncomfortably. "It's not a big deal," he repeated. "I just want to design things that'll last a while, maybe make someone happy to look at. It's not like I'm saving lives or something, like you -- that's the important work. You're the one who discovered a last-minute miracle cure for the fatal disease that nearly killed your own father."
Bones shook his head and retreated back into the shower, muttering about stubborn egomaniacs who were only humble about the things they should have big heads about. Jim grinned. It was a long-standing theme of Bones', the hypocrite. He hated having his accomplishments lauded almost as much as Jim did.
Jim dressed carefully, choosing pressed khakis and a button-down shirt, knowing that his mom liked to see him looking sharp. He and his dad were more jeans and leather jackets kind of guys, but it was worth the extra effort to see the smile on her face. Bones, of course, would never have dreamed of wearing jeans to brunch with the in-laws. Never mind that his folks adored Bones and would have been happy to see him even if he was in old sweats.
He was buckling his belt when Bones stepped back into the bedroom, a towel around his waist, his damp hair sticking out every which-way. Now that was just too adorable to resist. He stepped over to Bones, ready to mold their bodies together, but Bones stopped him with a hand on his chest. "You just got ready to go out, I don't wanna get you all wet, darlin'."
"I think I'm the wrong sex for that, Bones," Jim quipped, and Bones groaned theatrically. Some people just didn't appreciate a good sense of humor.
"You go stand over there, you reprobate. You can look, but no touching." Bones pointed at the opposite corner of the room.
Jim pouted, but went. He leaned against the wall, thoroughly enjoying the view as Bones got dressed. He wolf-whistled, earning a middle finger from Bones. Jim knew it was a gesture of love.
Then the world started to shimmer and fade. No, no, NO. He'd known this reality wasn't right, wasn't his -- he knew it in his marrow, but he didn't care, he wanted to stay. It was no use. Everything went black as he lost consciousness.
The world faded back in, and he was staring at a trio of solemn alien faces. He shot a glance over his shoulder. Behind him were Spock, Uhura, and thank god, there was Bones, his -- husband? Wait, that wasn't right. He was disoriented. What was going on?
A voice reverberated in his ears -- no, in his head. "James T. Kirk, representative of the United Federation of Planets, we have seen your dreams and desires, and they are as ours. You value the things we value -- love, home, and family. Despite our outward differences, we are alike. We will join your Federation."
It was coming back to him now, in bits and pieces. A mission to recruit a newly-encountered race, the away team captured, the aliens' insistence on a psychic test of some sort involving the humans' "deepest desires," him volunteering in order to spare the others, making some stupid crack about not having any secret desires he was ashamed of... fuck, he was an idiot. He hadn't even realized that that crazy shit had been lurking in his brain -- he kinda sorta maybe had a thing for Bones but he did not let himself think about it, ever. At least his ridiculous and previously-unknown domestic fantasies were between him and these bizarre-looking gold sparkly people, right?
He snuck another look over his shoulder. Spock's eyebrows were higher than Jim had ever seen them, Uhura was looking at him with -- shit, shit, shit -- with dawning understanding and compassion in her eyes, and Bones... Bones looked like he'd been hit with a board. His face was bright red, whether with embarrassment or anger Jim wasn't sure and didn't really want to find out, and his jaw was working soundlessly. Fuck, double-fuck, and even more fuck on top of that. It looked like they'd all seen. He'd better assess the damage. He turned to his team. The gold sparkly people could damn well wait.
"I take it you all... saw that? What was... in my head?" he said with some difficulty.
They all seemed to be reluctant to reply. Finally Spock decided to take the metaphorical phaser shot and he spoke. "Captain, we did more than simply see it. We... observed your internal reactions as well. We were privy to all of your thoughts and feelings as the events occurred."
Jim flicked his eyes at the others. Uhura gave a tiny nod of confirmation, and Bones seemed unable to reply at all, just staring at Jim with what he was sure was horror. Jim closed his eyes briefly. Fuck, he was going to be sick. And then pass out. Or possibly die. There was just no way he could deal with this.
And yet... He had a job to do. He was the Federation's representative to an entire new alien race and he was not going to let his personal humiliation, however deep, stop him from performing his duties. He wiped sweating palms on his pants, squared his shoulders, and turned back around to face his "hosts." Shoving his inner turmoil to the back of his brain, he dredged up the most charming smile he could under the circumstances. "So then, about that treaty..."
It had been three weeks, and he'd managed to avoid being alone with Bones even once. He couldn't avoid him altogether, of course -- a starship wasn't that big and they were both senior staff; they spent a lot of time together in the officers' mess, in staff meetings, preparing for missions, whatever. Jim coped the only way he knew how -- he was aggressively normal. Well, not really normal, but the best facsimile thereof that he could manage. He smiled, he joked, he slapped Bones on the shoulder. But he couldn't look him in the eye, never sought him out outside of duty hours, and actively evaded Bones' increasingly determined attempts to seek him out. His only hope was that maybe, if he ignored and avoided the whole issue long enough, things would go back to how they had been. How it had been was good. It was safe. And now everything had changed, and it sucked.
Even Uhura was acting differently around him -- with a strange blend of pity and an awkward sort of contrition for how she'd treated him in the past. Which, you know, he'd totally deserved -- he could be kind of a cocky asshole and he respected that she didn't take any of his shit, so this new thing was just weird and uncomfortable and altogether wrong.
Spock, at least, was acting as if nothing had changed, which was a fucking relief. He started spending his off-duty hours with Spock, sparring in the gym or playing chess or just relaxing over drinks -- well, if Spock's smelly herbal tea counted as a drink. Still, they were getting to be friends, or at least colleagues or something.
He made a point not to think about the looks Bones was giving him. They were... unreadable. Bones had never been unreadable, not to him, or well, to anyone, really. It was un-Bones-like, when you thought about it -- the whole essence of Bones was that everyone knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling at any given moment. But not Jim, not anymore. It was downright unsettling. Not that he was thinking about it. He was, in fact, a master of not thinking about shit that he didn't want to think about.
He should've known he couldn't avoid Bones forever, though.
It was the middle of alpha shift, nothing was going on, and he was trading dubiously-appropriate drinking stories with Sulu when Bones suddenly showed up on the bridge. What was he doing here? He had no reason to be here. There was no medical emergency. He wasn't even overdue for any immunizations - he'd made sure to get those updated while M'Benga was on shift. Sure, Bones used to show up all the time for no reason whatsoever, but not since... Well, not recently.
Looked like his grace period was over. Bones looked mad enough to chew glass, and he was stomping over to the Captain's chair.
"Captain, can I have a word with you?"
Jim hedged. "Go ahead." He was betting Bones wouldn't do this in public.
"In private." Score one for Captain Kirk.
"Sorry, Bones, kinda busy here. Important Starfleet business, you know."
"You're telling Sulu about the time you got drunk and made out with those Andorian twins during the second year of Academy. If you've got time for bragging about your exploits, you've got time for this."
Busted. So he did what any cornered animal would do -- he attacked. "Well, Bones, we all know you're just jealous because you haven't gotten laid since your ex-wife kicked you out on your sorry, drunk ass."
He regretted the words even as they were coming out of his mouth, but it was too late. He saw the flare of pain in Bones' eyes and then he was gone, walking away and the turbolift was hissing closed behind him and he hadn't even been dismissed, and normally Jim got a kick out of enforcing shit like that with Bones but right now he couldn't bring himself to care. Everyone was staring at him with ill-concealed shock and disapproval. Even Uhura. Even Chekov.
He fled. Well, at least as far as his ready room, which is where Spock found him ten minutes later, sitting at his desk with his head buried in his hands. Spock, in his typical fashion, went straight to the point.
"I take it that you are troubled by the events on Coronis V, Captain. May I be of assistance?"
Jim looked up at him. "You couldn't possibly understand, Spock."
Spock raised one eyebrow. "On the contrary, Captain, I think I am uniquely qualified on the subject of experiencing discomfort over one's emotions and attempting to repress those emotions."
Jim deflated. "Sorry, Spock. I'm being an asshole. All right, then, hit me. What do you suggest?"
"If you were half-Vulcan, I would suggest meditation." Jim snorted, and Spock continued smoothly. "Since you are fully human, I suggest confronting the issue rather than continuing to avoid it. Specifically, I believe you should talk with Dr. McCoy."
"No. No. I can't do that."
"May I inquire as to why you believe you cannot, Captain?"
"For God's sake, call me Jim. And I can't because -- well, just because."
"Your argument is hardly persuasive, Jim."
Jim sighed. "It could ruin everything. Our friendship, our working relationship, everything."
Spock paused for a moment, then spoke slowly and deliberately. "I would point out that if you continue on your current course, your relationship with Dr. McCoy will be irreparably damaged in any case. Additionally, I have never known you to avoid risk before. While I often lament your rashness, this new timidity does not suit you either."
"Spock -- did you just call me a coward? And tell me that I'm wrecking things with Bones and I should get my head out of my ass?"
Spock looked pained. Subtly pained, but pained nonetheless. "That is... one way of putting it, Captain."
"I hate it when you're right. I ever tell you that before?"
"Well, add one to the count. And no, I don't want to know what the total is," he added, when Spock looked likely to speak. He took a deep breath and faced the inevitable. "All right then, no time like the present. Wish me luck, Mr. Spock."
"Captain, luck is a highly illogical concept."
Jim ignored Spock's statement and substituted his own reality. Things generally worked better that way. "Thanks, Spock, I'll take all the well-wishes I can get." Then he slapped him on the arm, hard. It relieved a bit of his frustration, and besides, with his Vulcan strength, Spock could take it. "You've got the conn for the rest of alpha. One way or another, I have a feeling I'll need the privacy. Comm me if there's an emergency."
Spock inclined his head in acquiescence.
He took his time getting over to sickbay -- not dawdling, exactly, but not rushing either. One way or the other, this conversation was going to change everything and in his experience, most change was not the happy fun kind. He had no kind of strategy here, and he couldn't even begin to formulate one. This was completely outside the realm of his expertise. He wasn't trying to seduce Bones for a one-night stand, after all. He was -- he didn't know what he was trying to do, actually. Best case scenario, he'd convince Bones that it had all been a horrible mistake, that the aliens had been totally incompetent psychics and they'd mistakenly made up the entire vision out of whole cloth. It didn't sound too plausible. Well, he'd just have to wing it. Wouldn't be the first time he'd improvised in a life-changing situation.
When he finally arrived at the medical bay, Bones was nowhere to be seen. Nurse Chapel was dictating reports, and she paused in her work to address Jim. "May I help you, Captain?"
"Where's Dr. McCoy?"
"He's... in his office, sir, but he specifically asked not to be disturbed under any circumstances short of a medical emergency."
Yeah, Jim bet he had. He imagined that Chapel was cleaning up Bones' language quite a bit, as well. But he was here to do this thing, and he had to do it now, before he lost his nerve. He'd dealt with a pissed-off Bones before. He thanked Chapel for her help and headed towards Bones' office, ignoring the "it's your funeral" look that she directed at him. He typed in his override code quickly, not even bothering to chime first. He knew Bones would tell him to screw off. He was probably already well into Angry Rant Mode -- he performed best with an audience, but he was quite capable of delivering a stunning oration to thin air if that's all that was available.
Sure enough, Bones was pacing his office, muttering irately under his breath. He stopped as soon as the door opened, though, crossed his arms and glared at Jim. Jim scratched at the back of his neck, smiled ruefully and peered up at Bones through his lashes. It was a look guaranteed to soften up the angriest CMO. Hmmm. No dice. The glare intensified. Time to up the charm factor.
"I'm an asshole, Bones." He added a cheeky grin. Nothing.
He spread his arms wide. "You can take a free shot at me with a hypospray. I won't even complain." Bones ignored this, sat down at his desk, and pointedly began typing away at his terminal.
"What is this, Bones, kindergarten? The silent treatment, really?"
Finally he got a reaction. "Turnabout's fair play, Jim. What do you think you've been doing to me these last three weeks?"
"What? We've interacted! I haven't been ignoring you!" Well, that was technically true, if not exactly accurate. It garnered him a raised eyebrow from Bones. Now Jim was getting pissed. "Hey, I'm the one whose private thoughts got broadcast, how come you're the one who's all huffy?"
"Oh, so you're actually going to admit it? That it happened, and that those were really your thoughts, not some alien's psychic screw-up?"
Well, shit. That had been his planned explanation, hadn't it? How did Bones do that? He'd swear sometimes that Bones was psychic himself.
"So what if they were?" Even he could hear how sulky he sounded. He winced. Bones, though, was actually looking marginally happier. Huh. That was weird.
"You didn't think that was the kind of information that you should've, you know, shared with me at some point?" Bones asked.
"What? No. I couldn't do that! It would've ruined everything!" How come he was the only one who could see that?
Bones was studying him intently, but there was a quirk at the corner of his mouth that suggested that he was trying not to laugh at Jim. "Jim, come on, you know me better than that. We'd have figured things out, one way or another."
And okay, yeah, when Bones put it that way, it sounded all logical and shit. He narrowed his eyes. "Have you been talking to Spock?"
Bones rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Jim, have you met me? You think I'd go to Spock for advice about how to deal with my stupid best friend who won't admit he loves me and who I've been in love with for four goddamned years?"
Jim grinned. Suddenly, things were looking a lot brighter. "Oh yeah? You been carrying a torch all this time?"
Bones turned red. "Shut up, Jim."
"Aww, Bones, you should've said."
"Yeah, while you were sticking your dick into anything that moved? Kind of an indication that you weren't interested."
"Baby, I was looking for love in all the wrong places. If I'd known that you were waiting for me, mooning over me all these years, I'd have -- " but he never got the chance to finish that sentence, because Bones threw a PADD at him and hit him square in the chest. "Ow, Bones, I'm wounded."
"You'll be a hell of a lot more wounded by the time I'm done with you, if you ever stick your dick anywhere else ever again."
Jim pretended to consider this. "Well, I've gotta stick it somewhere, Bones. You got a better alternative?"
Bones was already getting up, stalking over to him with the grace of a big cat, and wow, that was really hot, now that he could let himself fully appreciate it. Bones came to a stop right in front of him, well within his personal space.
"Yeah. I've got a better alternative. We done talking now, Jim?"
"Well, I don't know, I mean, I'm going to want a ring, and I think Spock should officiate at the ceremony and -- " the rest was muffled by Bones' mouth descending upon his.
It was so much better than his fantasies.