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There are moments in Jim's life that act as axis points. Sometimes he doesn't realize what's happening until it's already done, until it's years down the road and suddenly he looks back and sees. These are times when everything that comes before and everything that comes after connect. It's not necessarily a choice he makes, an opportunity he takes or refuses. Sometimes, these moments just happen beyond his control.
--
He's staring at a short, black-haired girl sitting four seats down from him at the bar. She has eyes too wide for her face, at least by human standards. On her, with her high, ridged brow and amber colored pupils set in brown irises, they look particularly nice, even for a T'tithien.
If Jim's maybe a little drunk, that's between him and his bar tab. He slides off the stool and down towards the girl.
He smiles at her, brings his A-game. "Hey."
"Hello," she says, tilting her head in acknowledgement. Her pupils contract and dilate rapidly as she stares at him. "The answer is yes and also no."
Blinking slowly, Jim lifts an eyebrow and leans his body in closer, sliding in to rest an arm on the bar. "What's the question, beautiful?"
She makes a sound that Jim associates with laughter, high, light and sharp. Though she doesn't actually smile, her eyes continue to contract and dilate. "Have you found what you're looking for?"
Sometimes, aliens can be disconcerting. Which is like saying sometimes Jim wants to have sex with them, so he's learned to adapt. "The answer's yes?"
"And also no."
"And what are you looking for?"
"A companion. For the night, the answer's yes."
"Ah," Jim says and glances up at the bartender, raises a hand to signal him down. "One more and then my tab, please," he pauses, glances at her.
"My tab as well. I require no further refreshments, thank you."
"Like the lady said," he adds to the bartender with a grin. "So, do I get to know your name? I'm Jim."
"In Standard it is Niv'te."
"And why's the answer also no, Niv'te?" he asks, waiting for the cool touch of glass to his finger tips.
"You have not found what you are looking for."
Jim feels his posture go a little rigid, but he ignores it, pops his knuckles as he says, "You wanna clue me in on what I'm looking for?"
She regards him quietly, but for once her eyes do not move. "I wouldn't know. I just know you haven't found it yet."
T'tithiens. "Yeah, okay," Jim laughs, forgetting to care when the bartender returns with his drink and the datapad requiring his thumbprint.
--
Jim ends up on the shuttle to San Francisco two days later.
"The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce! All I got left is my bones," says Jim's crazed neighbor. Then he offers Jim his flask.
Jim's always had an appreciation for crazy. "Jim Kirk," he replies, accepting the drink.
"McCoy, Leonard McCoy."
"Just your bones, huh?"
"I had some self-respect, too, but then I found myself here."
Jim laughs at this, and the Bones character cracks a smile. "Bones," Jim says absentmindedly, taking another sip.
"Huh?"
And that settles that.
--
As it turns out, Bones is in his Early History of the Federation class. Jim spots him right away, despite the new haircut and the clean shaven face. Mostly because Bones is arguing with some gorgeous, green-skinned girl with bright red hair and it's drawing the attention of the entire room.
"Lady, I am telling you that those kinds of deep lacerations to a Melkotian would be fatal! They bleed out too quickly."
Her face is impassive as she shrugs. "I've seen otherwise."
Bones looks like he's going to keep arguing for a moment and then makes a disgruntled noise, turning away abruptly. He stomps off to the other side of the room and Jim follows, winking as he passes the redhead. He doesn't want to look like he's taking sides.
Sitting down next to Bones, Jim gives a low whistle. "Who's your friend?"
His face is still clouded over with anger, eyebrows down in a deep V when he turns his head towards Jim. For a moment, Jim's not sure Bones remembers him and he's about to offer a reminder when Bones says, "Don't even think about it, Jim. She's insane."
"But those ones are the most fun." Jim grins wide and slaps Bones's knee. "Anyway, what was that all about? She turn you down for the prom or something?"
"She's from my Ethics in Xenobiology class right before this. We were discussing Starfleet Medical's treatment of races not in the Federation and I brought up a Melkotian case I saw when I interned."
Bones's mouth is set in a grim line and Jim wants to ask but he doesn't. Instead he says, "Well, I'll just have to keep her distracted for you."
This earns Jim the reaction he was hoping for, the anger cracking and slipping away as Bones raises a skeptical eyebrow, a smirk playing at the side of his mouth. Finally, he lifts his chin and says, "Her name's Gaila."
"Thanks." Jim slaps his knee again and then turns his attention to the front of the class where the instructor has already started taking roll.
--
"Bones, you got family?" Jim asks. It's family weekend at the Academy. His roommate won't shut up about it.
"No, Jim, the Vulcans grew me in a lab. Just popped out of the ground, no family."
He rolls his eyes at this. "You know what I mean. Parents? Siblings? I don't know, a kid?"
Bones looks back at him for a second and then sighs, shaking his head. "Parents are dead. Haven't got any siblings, and Jocelyn and I couldn't get pregnant."
Sometimes Bones is like that. Tight lipped and private and then, bam! There it all is, laid bare for Jim. He bumps his shoulder to Bones's as they walk across campus. "Yeah, I don't have any family either." It's true as far as Jim's concerned.
Bones reaches out and clamps his hand on Jim's shoulder, gives him a soft shake. "Come on, kid. You can stay at my place this weekend. I got a bottle of whiskey with our names on it."
--
Jim doesn't talk about it. Well, he doesn't talk about it, anyway. He mentions it in passing. He cracks a joke or states it matter-of-factly, an over-simplified factoid about his life. My step-dad was an asshole or I'll show you my daddy-issues if you show me yours.
He just gets it out there, pushes it out of him and into wide open spaces. No one asks and he likes it that way. There's a little snap of control, a little flood of power when he slips it into a conversation without consequence. Yeah, my childhood was fucked up. Wasn't yours?
So what? Who cares? He doesn't.
Apparently, Bones does.
"Jim," he says quietly, staring at Jim with his empathetic doctor's eyes.
Jim hates it when Bones does that. He takes a sip off the whiskey bottle sitting between them and gives Bones his best cocky smile. "What?"
Bones heaves a sigh. "Never mind."
This is what Jim likes about Bones. He pushes, but not too much. Jim waggles his eyebrows. "So, Gaila."
The mood swings. "How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to hear about your study sessions with Gaila?"
"But Bones! You would not believe what she can do with just the tilt of her hips. It's wild. You should make nice with her is all I'm saying."
Bones snatches the bottle out of Jim's hand and takes a swig. "Why do I put up with you again?"
--
Jim's not a fool. He knows he can't avoid his mother forever. Not telling her he joined Starfleet, though, is working out pretty well for him. He probably should have taken into account that she still has friends in the service.
"Jimmy? Is that you, Jimmy Kirk?"
Jim freezes and Bones stops beside him, turning around before Jim can. They're at the library, first time Jim's set foot here the whole year he's been at the Academy. He doesn't really find this kind of studying necessary. Some people like the atmosphere, the hundreds of terminals, the rhythmic slide of fingers over datapads and the shared experience. That's not his thing.
It's not really Bones's either, but finals make everyone crazy. Desperate times and all that, right? Except if Jim could figure out how to get teleported out of this library right now, he wouldn't care what score he gets on his Basic Aeronautics exam.
"Jimmy?" the woman prompts again and Jim swivels on his heels.
He recognizes her almost immediately. "Yes, it's me, Opal."
Jim can feel Bones's questioning eyes on him. Opal is beaming. "Oh my goodness, I haven't seen you in ten years! Your mom didn't tell me you were at the Academy! I just talked to her last week."
Yeah, that's exactly what worries Jim. Fuck. "Oh, you know, probably had so much else to say, I didn't even come up."
"Don't be silly. We talk about you all the time. Your mom's always saying how proud she is of you."
This comment feels like it burns at the pit of Jim's stomach and he resists the urge to be rude. The back of his neck feels hot and he takes a deep breath, tries to work himself up to a good lie but nothing comes. "She doesn't know I'm here," he says on the tail end of a sigh.
Opal's eyes go wide with understanding and Jim hates everything about this moment. "Oh, I didn't realize…" she trails off.
Jim doesn't do awkward, but he can't make his brain work right. He keeps getting stuck on how proud she is of you and can't get to whatever smart ass, clever remark will put him back in control of the situation.
Bones's hand is suddenly steady and insistent on his back, and Jim shifts into it, letting it ground him. "Er, Jim, we really need to get going if we're going to make that review."
Opal's attention flickers to Bones and then back to Jim before she smiles again, this time too bright. "Oh, of course! Study, study, study! Well, it was lovely to see you, Jimmy. I'm sure I'll see you around."
Not if Jim can help it. "Yeah, sure. Nice to see you, too, Opal." He offers her a forced smile and then Bones is steering him away and out of the library.
They're halfway back to Jim's room when Bones asks, "Who was that?"
"She served with my parents on the Kelvin." Jim's surprised by the sound of his own voice. He clears his throat and fakes a laugh. "It's not really a big deal, Bones."
Bones's face shows only concern, his eyebrows pulled up in the middle, mouth in a flat line. Jim gets the wild urge to punch him, but he holds his fists at his side. Bones watches him carefully. "Are you going to call your mom before that woman does?"
Jim might as well be ripped open there on the sidewalk, he feels so exposed. "No."
--
After finals, they have a two week break before the next term starts. Jim almost has Bones convinced for a trip off-world, but then he says Andor and Bones flat out refuses. Fishing in New Zealand it is. Oh well, Jim heard they have a few wicked canyons he can jump off of while he's there.
Bones, of course, still has to ride the shuttle to Auckland, but he's at least progressed from attempting to stow away in the bathroom. Jim can't really help the small chuckle that escapes him as Bones turn slightly green when the shuttle gives its first tremble at lift off.
"How did you happen to my life?" Bones grumbles, digging unsuccessfully in his coat pockets for his bourbon.
"Sheer luck," Jim says and leans over, reaching into Bones's breast pocket and pulling out the flask. He hands it over with a flourish and Bones narrows his eyes at Jim.
"Should've just gone to Yosemite on my own."
Jim knows Bones doesn't mean that. Bones probably would have even gone to Andor if Jim pressed the issue. "We'll go there some other time," he promises.
Bones snorts and shakes his head. "Yeah, right. You'll probably just break your fool neck rock climbing."
"So little faith in me, Bones. Have I gotten myself killed yet?"
"Not for lack of trying," he says, taking another sip off his flask.
Jim looks expectantly at him and with a sigh, Bones hands it over. "Thanks," Jim says, grinning.
"Don't drink it all, you basta--" Bones cuts off as the shuttle lurches and shudders, his hand falling to Jim's forearm.
Jim looks down at the way Bones is clutching to him. He doubts Bones even realizes he's doing it, if his look of panic is any indication. The shuttle shudders again and then returns to normal, already on the other side of the turbulence. "Bones?"
His iron grip on Jim's arm releases and his eyes meet Jim's for a brief moment before he drops his gaze. Jim can see a light sheen of sweat has broken out on Bones's face, his hair dampening and sticking to his forehead.
"Bones, it's fine," Jim tries again, dropping the volume of his voice so only Bones can hear him.
He gives a small nod, still not looking up and Jim knows he's lost him for the entire flight if he doesn't get him back now. Jim's mind races and he absently thinks they don't have enough bourbon for what he's about to say. "My mom left me a message yesterday."
It has the desired effect. Bones's head jerks up, eyes searching Jim's face. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Jim shrugs. "Haven't viewed it yet."
"You going to?"
"Maybe, trying to decide if it matters," he admits.
"It only matters if you want it to."
He nudges Bones with his elbow and hands him the bourbon. "Sure, but I'm selfish if I ignore it, right?"
Bones stares at him intently, like he's trying to figure something out. He shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds and then back at Jim. "Jim, I don't know anyone less selfish than you."
It knocks the wind out of him.
--
He doesn't view the message until a week after they get back.
His mom's face flashes on screen. Light wisps of silver mix with her dark blond hair and she has laugh lines around her eyes. She's just as beautiful as he remembered.
"So, you're not in Riverside anymore," she starts out. She laughs nervously and says, "I guess I should have known. Haven't heard from Johnny about you getting arrested since the Remembrance Day before last. I'm glad, even though you didn't tell me. I always thought getting away from there would help you. It's done wonders for me and Fr--" she grimaces, stopping abruptly.
Sighing, she shakes her head. "It's done wonders for me," she repeats carefully. "I miss you, Jim, and I hope you're doing well. Opal said she checked into your record after she saw you. Flying colors, so far. I always said you were brilliant, just like your dad," she pauses and her smile is sad.
She looks like he's going to say something more, something other than she does, but then it's just, "I love you, stay safe," and she disconnects.
Jim gets the drunkest he's ever been in his life that night. By the time Bones comes home after his rounds, Jim can't even stand up. Bones doesn't say a word.
--
The first Remembrance Day after Jim arrived at the Academy was spent the same as all the ones before it since he was seventeen: drinking and fighting and fucking, though not always in that order. Remembrance Day among civilians means Jim can pretend not to care.
Jim really likes not caring, but the morning of R-Day his second year he wakes up to Bones's insistence that he get his ass out of bed. Jim's not really sure why he thought it was a good idea to room with Bones this term.
"Come on, we're going to Zefram Hall for the Remembrance Day services. We need to leave in an hour."
Jim pulls his pillow over his head and holds it there. Maybe if he just doesn't open his eyes, Bones will leave him alone.
He hears Bones stomp over. "Are you twelve? Get out of bed, Jim. You're not fooling anyone."
Finally, Jim sits up and glares. "And you're not making me go to some Starfleet service where everyone cries and holds hands. I've got my own traditions for today."
"Yeah, I'm familiar. I had to treat you for those traditions last year, if you'll remember."
Jim groans, throwing his blanket off and getting out of bed. "Is that what this is about? Fine, I'll be more careful this year. Those hives were a fluke."
"And the black eye and cracked ribs?"
Shrugging, Jim brushes past Bones's scowling figure and over to the replicator. If he has to put up with this, he's not doing it without caffeine.
Bones follows him across the room. "A shrug? You're giving me a shrug? This is important."
Jim knows his face is probably a mixture of confusion and irritation. "Why do you care?"
Bones rubs at the back of his neck and avoids Jim's eyes. "Listen, I just think it'll be good for you, okay?"
"What, I'm supposed to go remind myself I'm not the only poor sonofabitch who lost a parent to the black?" Jim tries for easy, for flip, but it comes out heavier than he knows what to do with. He can see it in Bones's eyes.
"Jim," Bones says softly, reaching forward.
Jim's always good with physical comfort from Bones -- a hand on his shoulder, a pat on the back, a hug -- but he's been on edge for three months, since they got back from New Zealand. Something feels like it snapped off inside him. Jim reels backwards out of range. Hurt flashes across Bones's features.
"Do you think they have a special section for the kids who never even met their dad?" He's pushing back now, using all the hurt as a weapon. This is just the warning shot across the bow.
Bones looks grim. "I'm sorry, Jim."
"Don't need your apology. Just drop it," Jim replies, walking around Bones again and back to his bed.
--
Jim's drunk. He's not as smashed as he usually is by this time on R-Day, but he's definitely drunk. He already struck out with two prospective fucks tonight, but he wasn't trying anyway. Tonight all he really wants is to hit something until he can't move anymore.
There are a couple of rowdy, big-dumb-and-mean types that have been mouthing off all night towards the front of the bar. Really, they're a little too easy to provoke, but Jim doesn't need a challenge, he just needs to feel his fist crash against someone's face.
He walks over, purposefully sloshing his beer onto one of them. "Whoops," he laughs.
"Hey, watch it!"
Jim rolls his eyes. It's always the same. "Look on the bright side! At least it won't make you smell any worse," he says, and admittedly he's come up with better, but he's not trying for finesse here.
The one with beer down his front stands. "Kid, do you really want to do this?"
The other one stands, too, and Jim grins lazily. "It must be tough to be that stupid and that ugly."
Jim gets shoved back and he staggers but balances himself quickly, using the momentum to launch himself towards the first guy's middle. He knocks into him hard and they topple over when the guy's feet catch on the chair. Jim's fist connects with his gut twice before his friend grabs Jim by the back of his shirt and hauls him off.
Jim's barely on his feet again when his left cheek explodes with the force of the second man's right hook. He totters backwards, arms windmilling even as he knows he's going to fall over anyway. Then suddenly someone's catching him, dragging him backwards and righting him.
His head is spinning and he can't quite concentrate, but he feels a sense of relief and then annoyance. Who the hell?
"Gentlemen, why don't you let me take him home to sleep it off and have a round on me?" It's Bones. Of course, it's Bones. Who else would it be?
Bones has his hand planted firmly in the center of Jim's chest, holding him steady. He's angled them so his body is between Jim and the two townies. Jim can already feel the side of his face swelling up, his skin is too hot, pulled tight and aching.
They seem to weigh their options, and for a moment Jim doesn't think they're going to take Bones up on his offer. Then the barkeep is there pointing at Bones. "Get him the hell out of here," he says and turns to the other men. "And you two better take the free beer and sit the fuck down."
And that's that. Bones is hauling him out into the damp San Francisco street. He looks furious, but he isn't saying anything to Jim which is probably good because Jim's not quite sure he wouldn't take a swing at Bones, too.
Bones doesn't flag down a transporter, just guides Jim along the sidewalk, hand gripping Jim's shoulder tightly. He wants to shake it off, but Jim still hasn't regained his balance completely and he figures falling on his ass wouldn't really be useful at this point.
Instead, he settles on asking, "The fuck d'you come from anyway?"
Silence. Jim scowls, and then immediate regrets the movement as his bruised face protests. His hand flies up to cup his cheek protectively. "Fuck," he hisses. Now he remembers why he's usually drunker when he fights, dulls the pain preemptively.
Bones makes a disgusted sound and stops them abruptly, spinning Jim around and batting his hand away so he can study the contusion. He tilts Jim's head back and to the side, eyes narrowing. Jim watches him closely as his fingers brush gently against Jim's skin. His annoyance at Bones drifts away.
Bones looks worried, really worried, and Jim can tell it's nothing to do with the bruise on his face. He can tell just by the level of disapproval Bones is showing. He's probably the most transparent person Jim's ever met. Not that he doesn't try to cover up everything he's feeling with the same irritated, curmudgeon routine, but Jim knows all of his tells now.
That realization is sobering and Jim sucks in a sharp breath. He eases himself away from Bones's grip and sighs. "Bones, 'm fine."
Bones looks like he's about to read Jim the riot act, cheeks flushed pink with anger and hands still outstretched. His eyes search Jim's face and his mouth is flat, turned down at the edges. Whatever rant he's going to let loose with, though, seems to slip away suddenly. He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping and arms falling to his sides. "Come on," he says and starts down the street again, this time leaving Jim to walk on his own.
Jim follows, more like stumbles after Bones, never letting him out of his line of sight. Bones isn't going fast, won't actually leave him behind, Jim knows. They walk all the way back to cadet quarters in the quiet.
This is the first Remembrance Day in six years he actually remembers how he gets home.
--
Jim wakes up to cool hands on his face and the side of his neck. When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Bones hovering over him. "Whaaa?"
Bones purses his lips. "Just making sure that ham-fisted sonofabitch didn't fracture your fool head. I gave you something for the pain and the swelling. You should be fine."
Something about this situation doesn't feel right to Jim. He tries to catch Bones's eyes, but then he's already up and off the bed, walking away. Jim frowns, trying to concentrate. He feels a little groggy, maybe from the pain meds, maybe because he just woke up. He can't really tell. "Bones?"
The broad lines of Bones's shoulders tense, Jim can see them shift underneath the plain white t-shirt Bones has on, see the muscles bunching. "Hmm?" It sounds rough, almost a rumble in Bones's chest.
Jim swallows, tries to figure out why he suddenly feels so awkward. He feels guilty in a way he hasn't in a long time. Not since his mom used to look at him with sad eyes every time she patched him up. Can't you at least try to get along, Jim? she would ask.
Sorry seems hollow, meaningless from his mouth, so he doesn't say that. "I try, you know."
Bones doesn't turn around, but Jim sees his head nod as he says, "Yeah, I know that, Jim."
--
Federation Day is Jim's favorite holiday. The air is cold enough in January that when the fireworks go off, the resulting boom echoes for miles, crisp and loud and perfect. It rattles in his chest and sets his heart thumping.
Unsurprisingly, it's Bones's least favorite holiday. "Dangerous! Barbaric! Distracting!"
Jim can't help the laugh that rolls up and out, splitting his mouth wide open with a loud hahaha! "Bones, it's not like it's gun powder or some shit from the nineteenth century. It's cold burning, safe."
Pink rises on Bones's face as he really starts to work himself up. "Do you know how many --"
Jim hands him a full drink, cutting him off, "You losing your memory, old man? You shared this rant with me last year. Sit down and drink, already."
Expression mutinous, Bones accepts the drink and sits, glaring up at the sky from their spot in the park. Jim can't keep the grin off his face as he looks up, too. There are bursts of white, red, green, blue - light that fizzles and pops and cartwheels through the air with piercing whistles and thundering claps.
It's just past dusk, dark enough that the multicolored sparks blaze across the sky brightly but there's still the not-dark that hangs over them, the last remnants of sunlight making everything deep blue instead of black. The consistent flashes of light send floods of illumination onto their faces. It's probably several minutes before Jim realizes that Bones is watching him and not the sky.
There's a soft, unguarded expression that Jim's never seen before. "What?" Jim asks, curious.
Then it's gone, just like that as Bones sees Jim looking back. It's replaced by a frown. "You'd think you were ten, the way you act on the fourth."
Jim shrugs, still caught by the moment. "Nothing ever went wrong today," he says. He doesn’t mean for the words to be heavy, but they are. And it hits him that he does that a lot with Bones - shares more than he wants to, more than he means to.
The frown clears from Bones's face, though he still looks solemn, almost ridiculously so in the carnival of colors bursting overhead. Bones looks up again, keeps his focus on the show as he says, "When I was a kid, my favorites were the old-fashioned kamuros," he pauses for a second and then points up in the air at a particularly beautiful sizzle of gold, "like that one."
--
Generally speaking, Jim actually tries to avoid ending up in medical. This is partly because breaking a leg (or arm or rib or nose) does, in fact, hurt like hell, but mostly it's because Bones reaches new levels of intimidating when he's standing over Jim in his Starfleet issued lab coat, surrounded by the best medical technology in several quadrants.
"Jim, you do realize you're not indestructible, right?" Bones asks, his voice a little too level for Jim's liking.
"Aw c'mon, Bones! It was a sim, nothing serious was going to happen to me. Most likely."
Bones arcs an eyebrow at him and remains silent as he waves his tricorder over Jim's body, checking for further injuries. Then he looks back up at Jim and crosses his arms. "When Professor Zuick brought you in, she said you tried to jump a thirty foot gap."
Jim raises his hands, palms up before slapping them back down on the bed at his sides. "It was a running start. I almost made it!"
"Well, you didn't."
Jim feels his own irritation building in his chest and he rolls his eyes. "Jesus, Bones, I'm not the only person who gets injured running sims on the course." Jim realizes half a second after he says it that he shouldn't have.
"Right." Bones's actions become coldly efficient as he turns and grabs a hypospray off the neighboring tray and jabs it into Jim's neck unceremoniously. He turns to the nearby nurse and gives sharp instructions even as Jim feels himself floating into oblivion from the sedative.
When Jim comes to, Doctor Bareilles appears to look over his chart. "Any discomfort in your lower leg?"
"Nope," he says. He tries to look around her, wonders where Bones is. "Where's…?"
"Doctor McCoy's shift ended half an hour ago. Anyway, your vitals all check out. Get out of here, Kirk. And don't let me see you back for at least another month," she pauses, finally meeting his eyes. She purses her lips and shakes her head. "And stop pissing off my residents."
"He started it," Jim grumbles, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and hopping down.
She lifts an eyebrow in a way that makes Jim think they must teach that shit in medical school because it's too much like Bones. "You're dismissed, Cadet Kirk," she says simply before turning on her heel and going the way she came.
Jim checks his communicator and sees that it's twenty one hundred hours. His stomach chooses then to rumble and he tucks the device into his pocket and heads back to his quarters. He really hopes Bones has stopped being annoyed with him, but the fact that he didn't stick around for Jim to wake up doesn't bode well.
--
When Jim was a kid, he learned to read people's moods pretty quickly. It's all survival instinct, the ability to look at the set of someone's shoulders, watch their movements, see the turn of their mouth and just know. He uses this skill all the time - picking up girls, starting fights, analyzing combat situations. Jim knows people.
But even if Jim couldn't do all that, he's pretty sure he would know Bones is still pissed. He takes one step into their room and the tension hits his chest like Jim just ran smack into a wall.
Bones is sitting at his desk, hunched over a datapad with images and words streaming on the screen in front of him, and he's got a tumbler full of dark liquid to his left, probably bourbon. He doesn't turn around as Jim comes around the divide, but his shoulders go up impossibly higher, tight around his neck.
"Hey," Jim says. Pulling off his jacket, he tosses it onto his bed and watches Bones intently.
"I'm busy," Bones replies with a low, controlled tone, words clipped off.
Jim bites at the corner of his mouth, considering. It's not like Jim is unfamiliar with Bones's anger. Bones gets angry when he gets upset, it's how he functions. Usually this blows over sooner rather than later.
"Okayyyy." Heaving a sigh, he swings his arms at his sides, snaps his fingers absently and finally walks to the replicator to grab some dinner. He's about halfway through his burger when Bones suddenly barks, "Could you chew any louder?"
Jim's not quite sure he didn't imagine Bones saying that because he hasn't actually looked up from his datapad. Swallowing the bite he has in his mouth, Jim coughs and takes a gulp of beer. He pauses and then says, "Could you be any more of a dick?"
Finally lifting his head, Bones glares back at him. "Don't push it," he warns.
And hell, Jim can't just ignore that. "I'm not pushing anything."
"You are a piece of work, Jim," he says, shaking his head in that condescending way Jim really, really dislikes, and then he looks up at the ceiling like he can't stand to lay eyes on Jim.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Jim sets his beer down, standing up because he hates sitting during a fight and he can tell this is going to be a fight.
Bones practically growls with irritation. "You're a moron."
"I'm a moron?"
"You heard me," Bones says, scooting back from his desk.
Jim rubs at the back of his neck and then rolls his shoulders, throwing his hands up. "I don't know what you want me to say, Bones. So, I end up in medical sometimes. What the fuck are you getting so worked up over? I don't get it."
"Yeah, you don't get it. That's your problem, Jim. You don't or you can't or you won't get it."
"Oh, come off it. It's not like I'm trying to get hurt."
"No? Okay, then, I guess that's that," Bones says, eyebrows going up in sudden, false understanding.
Jim snorts with disbelief. "Christ, if you could be any more dramatic, you'd be a goddamn Klingon."
"Goddammit, Jim! Why can't you just admit you made a mistake?" Bones is standing now, too. His face is red, splotchy with emotion, skin white-white around his lips, making their dark pink stand out almost obscenely.
"It was the fucking training course! I was trying to win, not get myself killed." Jim draws closer to Bones now, pulled in as he feels the situation spiraling.
Bones takes a step forward, too, hand pointing at Jim as he shouts. "Of course! No blood, no glory, right? Well, do me a favor and tell them not to call me the next time they bring you to medical in pieces. I've had enough."
"I never told them to call you in the first place! You're always just there!" Jim's eyes go wide. He tries to catch the words as they tumble out of his mouth, but understanding breaks over him too late to rein them back in.
Bones's mouth is open, like he's about to say something but can't. He's breathing loudly, they both are. The sound of it fills the room and it makes Jim's skin tingle all over. Then Bones's mouth snaps shut, his breathing suddenly becoming more even as he forces himself to inhale through his nose. Jim can see he's hit that stage of cold fury usually reserved for incompetent interns who endanger the lives of patients.
Jim's never actually seen this level of anger directed at him, and it's almost frightening. It's maybe even a little breathtaking. Everything about it is making him jumpy, desperate for something he can't quite put his finger on.
And yeah, maybe Jim should just walk away right now. He should probably go to a bar or over to Gaila's. Hell, he could go do extra credit in the Temporal Mechanics lab. Jim should really do any number of things except stay in that room and stare down Bones, but that's exactly what he's doing.
"Bones --" he starts, can't help himself.
"Don't." Bones throws up a hand in warning, keeping Jim at bay. He looks away and takes another deep breath. Then he seems to make up his mind and starts for the door, sidestepping Jim.
All Jim can think is don't go, doesn't even register that he's reached out and grabbed Bones by his upper arm until he's got Bones pulled flush against his chest. Bones's eyes are sharp and clear this close up, their hazel brighter and more distinct in the wash of Bones's ferocity. He doesn't jerk away, just glares back, and then Jim's got his hands tangled in Bones's hair and he's pressing their mouths together in the span of a single heartbeat.
Just like every other time Jim needs him to, Bones gives, makes room for him. His lips part against Jim's, opening and letting him in, but it's not easy like it should be, like it's supposed to be. They're too angry, too frustrated. Their teeth and tongues clash together, sharp white against soft pink.
Jim shifts closer, his hands fisting tighter and even though this is all wrong, Jim can tell this is exactly what he was desperate for. But before he can fully appreciate it, before he can do anything to make it better, to ease the frustration, Bones is shoving him away. Jim stumbles back, half crashes, half lands on the bed.
Bones stares down at him, his expression unreadable. His hair is a mess, mouth bruised dark red, almost purple and he's panting, chest heaving. If Jim wasn't already laboring to breathe himself, he's sure the sight of Bones like this would have gotten him there. Jim can't even begin to form a coherent thought, can't say a word as he watches Bones run a shaky hand through his hair and then walk right out of their room.
--
Bones's hands on him aren't a novelty. He's the sort of person who always seems to reach out, even if it's not consciously. Jim can't remember a time when Bones didn't place a hand on his arm to pull him out of someone's way, didn't slap him on the back in congratulations or squeeze his shoulder in solidarity. They walk in close proximity, bodies bumping up against each other without it ever registering on Jim's radar.
And yeah, Jim thinks about sex with Bones. He's not a blind man, but their physical contact has always been different. It's easy, so natural it doesn't occur to Jim that he needs to think about it.
Now it's all Jim can think about. Now he can't help but mark every time Bones shies away from him, every time he doesn't reach out. When they pass each other, there might as well be miles between them. Jim didn't realize the lack of contact could be just as physically painful as a punch to the gut.
It's been four days and Bones will barely meet his eyes, and Jim knows he shouldn't push. He really does. Pushing is what got them here to begin with, but Jim doesn't know any other way. Push, push, push. Make something happen, anything happen, just so long as he's not sitting around and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He looks over at Bones, sitting on his bed as he watches a holovid about some shit involving a redneck catching twenty foot catfish in the Mississippi river. He can tell Bones knows he's looking at him, can see it in the stiffness of his posture. Jim fidgets, picking at his own comforter as he looks back down at the datapad in his lap. Finals are in two weeks, then leave and Jim also knows he can't take this lasting until then.
He huffs, rereading the same line of data six times. "Dammit," he says under his breath.
Apparently, it's enough to break Bones's tenuous attention on his holovid. "What?"
It's the first thing he's said to Jim all afternoon. Jim lifts his head to look at Bones again, trying to gauge his reaction. Finally, he lifts one shoulder and turns back to his reading assignment. "Just having trouble concentrating."
Nothing but the quiet voices of the hosts from Bones's show answer him for a long while. Jim thinks maybe Bones has gone back to watching, but then, "Is the vid bothering you?"
The idea of it being the fucking holovid that's bothering Jim is so insane, it's enough to make him laugh. He chokes back a guffaw and shakes his head. "No, it's fine."
"What's so funny?"
And now Jim really can't stop himself from laughing. The sound comes out too loud, almost hysterical. How the fuck did they become these people? This is the same goddamn asshole who told Jim he was going to throw up on him when they met. Jim cackles harder, his chest and stomach aching as he catches a glimpse of Bones staring at him in confusion.
"What the hell's the matter with you, Jim?" Bones asks, his voice a mixture of concern and frustration.
Jim makes himself take deep steadying breaths, rubs at his eyes with his fists. "Oh god, it's just… you won't even look at me and you're concerned about your vid disturbing my reading? I don't know…" he trails off, fighting back fresh waves of laughter.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Bones crosses his arms and glares at Jim and it's ridiculously petulant. He looks down and shakes his head. "You'll never change, will you?"
"Probably not," Jim admits.
Bones gives a half chuckle and he says, like he can't really believe the words are coming out of his mouth, "Fine, you win. Not mad anymore."
Jim breathes out as he lets go of the last bit of giddiness, the mood suddenly shifting despite the comedic conversation. "Just like that."
Bones stands and walks to his dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling at the bottle of bourbon he keeps stashed there. Jim watches as he pours himself a glass, downs it in one swallow before he tops it off again and walks back. "Sure, just like that."
Jim reaches out, catches him by the wrist. "Bones," he says quietly.
The simple contact already has Jim's heart tripping. The delicate skin is warm, and he can feel the jump of the veins just below the surface as Bones's pulse quickens, too. Jim doesn't even look up at Bones's face, just focuses on where his fingers are wrapped tightly around his wrist. He can feel Bones's eyes on him, studying.
"All right," Bones says and there's an edge to his voice that wrecks Jim so completely, he doesn't even want to be put back together.
He's on his feet in half a second, hands already tugging at the hem of Bones's shirt even as Bones is still setting his glass down on the nightstand. Jim needs this, needs Bones's hands on him like he's a dying man who just stumbled upon a cure.
Bones complies without needing to be asked, grips Jim's hips and waist tightly, fingers bunching fabric and digging into flesh. He pulls Jim tight against him, and Jim can feel miles of Bones, burning hot through his two layers and Jim's t-shirt.
Jim's blood is rushing, buzzing in his ears and he's already half hard, can feel Bones is getting there, too. Their mouths are close enough to kiss, but they don't right away. There's a tension in their body language that Jim can't really define, like this could turn into a fist fight or the best goddamn sex Jim's ever had at any moment. Then just like that, the tension snaps and Bones's mouth is on his.
And it's fucking brutal in a completely separate way from the first time they kissed. It's brutal this time because it gets down under Jim's skin, right into the muscles and the bones. Jim's hands find their way under Bones's shirt, palms to the warmth of his back, nails lightly dragging up the column of Bones's spine. Bones grunts, shifts their bodies together just so and Jim's toes curl against the floor.
Jim always suspected that Bones knew how to handle himself, but if he knew it was like this… Well, maybe any sooner and it would have fallen apart. Hell, any later and it may have been the end of the story and not the beginning. Yeah, because this moment Bones is just right in ways Jim doesn't even want to examine. He just wants. Jim can't get close enough, can't touch enough, can't have enough.
Bones's lips are soft, tongue slick and teeth sharp. They play against Jim's mouth with insistence, a determination that has Jim practically ready to beg for mercy as their bodies slide against each other again. Bones pulls away and Jim meets his eyes. It's a mistake because the darkness there elicits a groan from somewhere deep inside Jim, an instinctual recognition that Bones is going to ruin him in all the best ways.
"Off," is all Bones says, and Jim jumps to obey. Bones strips his own shirts, casting them to the side without ever shifting his gaze away from Jim. Undoes his pants and lets them pool on the floor around his ankles.
Jim's unfastening his pants when Bones's hand makes contact with his now shirtless chest, pushes him back onto the bed. He finishes removing Jim's pants for him, yanks them away and Jim moves back until he's all the way on the mattress.
Bones crawls over him, planting bites and sucking marks over Jim's stomach and up his neck until his mouth is hovering over Jim's, knees on either side of Jim's hips. Jim is panting now, a helpless sort of whine having already found its way out into the open about the time Bones clamped his mouth on the pulse point in Jim's neck.
He's hard, can feel the damp of his underwear against his cock from his own precome. Jim thrusts his hips up, desperate for friction, finds it when he rubs up against Bones's dick. He bucks again, and it's barely enough but fuck he could get off just like that if only Bones would let him.
But Bones stills him, locking his knees tight around Jim's hips, holding him in place. "No, that's not how this is going to go," Bones says. His voice is an octave lower than normal, even and steady. Jim's sure his own voice is completely destroyed, doesn't even try to talk.
Bones kisses him again, fucks his tongue into Jim's mouth with slow, lazy thrusts, sucks Jim's bottom lip into his mouth, drags his teeth over already kiss-bruised flesh. Jim twists his fingers into Bones's hair, tugging just a little harder than he maybe should, but fuck, Bones has got him at a complete disadvantage here. He's already strung out with the need to come and Bones's hand hasn't even touched Jim's dick yet.
Bones bites down on Jim's lip again, a little harder than before. Jim gasps as the pain cuts through his sex addled mind, his back arching off the bed involuntarily, despite Bones's effort to hold him down. Bones growls, a low rumble deep in his chest that Jim can fucking feel this close up. His mouth moves away from Jim's and dips down to whisper in his ear. "Turn over."
Bones backs off of him and Jim has to close his eyes, hold his breath and count to three before he can even consider complying with Bones's command. He takes a deep shuddering breath and finally rolls over onto his stomach. Bones moves behind him, his hands settling on Jim's hips and pulling them up until Jim is on his knees.
Hooking fingers under the elastic of Jim's underwear, Bones pulls them down and over Jim's thighs and calves until they're off. His knees are between Jim's legs, forcing them wider and Jim's back bows as he folds his arms beneath him, biting down on his fist.
Bones rests a palm on Jim's ass, and Jim feels a hot puff of air at the base of his spine and shivers. "Bones," he says, and his voice sounds just as frayed as he thought it would. He doesn't even know what he's trying to say, just that he knows he's going to come apart at the seams if Bones doesn't touch him already. "Fuck."
"Shhh," Bones says, and instead of irritating it's somehow soothing, except even that forces a moan out of Jim's mouth.
Sweat stings Jim's eyes, and he blinks it away, dragging his forehead against the sheets. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bones reach over to the nightstand, pulls out a bottle of lube and Jim almost whimpers with relief. He hasn't lost all of his pride, though, so he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to concentrate on not coming undone when Bones finally presses a finger inside of him.
It doesn't help much, though, because Bones knows exactly what he's doing. It's agonizing, slow and deliberate as Bones works Jim open. When Jim feels another finger added, he can't help himself, he pushes back into it, so fucking desperate for more, for just enough to send him over.
With a quickness that startles Jim, Bones brings his other hand down on Jim's ass, a sharp smack of palm to cheek that stings and burns. Jim cries out in surprise, and oh fuck fuck fuck, he's going to come just from that. He can feel it right there, teetering on the edge just out of his reach.
His breath catches, a sound of pure frustration dragging out of his lungs. "Goddamn you," he hisses, so close he feels like he would rather die right now than wait for it.
Bones reaches around, fist finally closing around Jim's cock, squeezing hard at the base, holding him too tight, forcing Jim back from the precipice. He keeps his fist just like that even as he adds a third finger.
"F-fuck," Jim chokes out. He has no idea how the hell Bones is doing this, how he hasn't lost control, hasn't just fucked Jim stupid by now. Because god only knows Jim doesn’t have this much self-control.
Jim whimpers as Bones's fingers are suddenly removed, barely even registers that he's making the noise, really. His brain is filled with a litany of fuckmefuckmefuckme that he can't even manage to verbalize anymore.
And then Bones has released Jim's dick, hand going to his hip and vaguely Jim hears the telltale sounds of Bones slicking himself before he's pushing in and holy fucking hell is the only thing Jim's brain comes up with before it switches over to pure sensation.
Jim feels himself stretching around Bones, feels the slide and pressure, the inevitable drag against his prostate. He thinks maybe he's finally managing to say something, but fuck if he knows what it is. Bones pulls back and then snaps his hips forward again, hard and almost too rough.
Again and again, and Jim's whole body aches with how good it is, how much he wants this. And finally… Oh god, finally, Bones wraps his fingers around Jim's cock again, jacking him with steady, sure strokes that make Jim's legs shake. It doesn't take much and Jim feels his orgasm rolling over him, unstoppable now.
It breaks him wide open, painfully intense, and Jim's vision goes dark at the edges. Every inch of him curling in on itself and then falling back, his cock twitching in Bones's hand, coming against his stomach and chest. Bones is still fucking him, his hand so tight on Jim's hip there'll be a purple mark there in the morning, but Jim's sure it will match the collection of marks Bones has given him tonight.
Jim feels dizzy in his post-orgasm haze, barely keeping his knees up. His throat is raw as he sucks in crisp, cool air, his whole body lax as he just takes it from Bones, lets him fuck to his own climax.
It only takes a few more moments, and then Bones is stilling, coming with a hard groan that lights up Jim's nerve endings despite himself. He shudders with the after-shock as Bones pulls out of him, slumping onto the bed with desperate, ragged breaths.
Jim drifts asleep then, only aware that he has when he wakes much later.
--
"So, this is our last year."
Bones hmms absently as he digs under his bed for his other shoe. Jim knows it's actually in the bathroom and not under the bed, but the view is nice so he's not telling. Instead he continues, "One last year of putting up with me."
Bones cranes his head around, looking at Jim like he's lost his mind. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, you'll go off to be on a space station someplace and I'll end up on whatever ship speeding off to monitor the neutral zone or something." Jim shrugs like he doesn't care, like it doesn't matter. It's not like they'll never see each other again.
Rolling his eyes, Bones returns to peering under the bed. "Jim, I changed my assignment preferences seven months ago. We're top of our class, so they'll probably put us both on that new ship."
Jim feels something tighten in his chest, and he gets the ridiculous urge to say even more ridiculous things but he won't. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "What ship?"
Bones makes an exasperated noise, standing as he gives up the search. "You know what ship. That one they're giving to Pike!"
"Oh, that ship," Jim says. He reaches out, snags Bones by his shirt collar. Bones gives him a look that says he thinks Jim is absurd, but he lets himself be pulled close anyway. Jim kisses him, licks his way into Bones's mouth and then pulls back grinning. "Your shoe is in the bathroom, Bones."
"Dammit, Jim!"
--
Jim claps Bones on the back and laughs. "Next round's on me," he says, getting up from their table in the corner.
Bones has a smile stretched wide across his mouth, eyes bright from too many glasses of whiskey. "This is the last one!"
"Sure thing, Bones." Jim's still smiling when he gets up to the bar, catching Eddie's attention and waving two fingers at him. Eddie gets the message and nods and Jim turns his attention to the other patrons as he waits.
It's the typical cast, mostly cadets, a few locals and some Federation types. He nods at the people he knows, throws a wink at Uhura even as she rolls her eyes. He chuckles to himself and starts to turn back to the bar when his eyes catch on someone else familiar. She has black hair and inhumanly wide, amber colored eyes. He knows that T'tithien. She looks back at him then and Jim can see her eyes whirling rapidly in that way they do when amused.
"Niv'te, right?" he asks as she approaches.
She tilts her head to the side. "And you are Jim."
"One and the same."
Staring back at him for a moment, her pupils contract and dilate at a disturbing speed. Jim wonders what it is exactly T'tithiens do when they look at people like that. They stop abruptly and she makes a sound that Jim doesn't associate with any human emotion. Maybe pleased, maybe curious. "So then the answer is no and yes."
"Same question this time?" he asks, entertained.
"It's always the same question, Jim. You have found your permanent answer."
Jim blinks, taken aback by her pronouncement. "Oh?"
"Yes, it seems you have found what you were looking for. Which means regretfully I have not," she replies, and her eyes start up their dizzying movements. She tilts her head again and walks away.
"Bye," he calls after her.
Jim watches her go and as she moves out of sight, he sees Bones again, still sitting at their table. He's talking animatedly with someone they know from the Academy, broad gestures that seem like they might collide with someone or something at any moment. Jim laughs.
So, yeah, okay. The answer is yes.