Fic Dump 3/2
Fandom: All STxi
Disclaimer: I need one. What does that tell you?
A/n: All comment fics from Jim_and_Bones that have been kicking around for a while.
Title: Big Plans
Rating: T
Genre: family, romance, humor
Summary: Sam forgot to pick up Peter. Jim was displeased.
He was also really fucking annoyed. He loved Peter to bits and pieces, but he also had big plans with Bones in about forty five minutes and Bones hated tardiness with a burning passion that bordered on what he felt for idiocy. Jim knew Bones would understand, but some annoyance would still be there (at Sam, more than anything) and he'd rather not have that mar the evening.
"Unca Jiiim," Peter whined. "Can we get ice cream?"
He held back a snap. "No, Peter, you're going home soon and your mom will be unhappy with us both. But maybe next time." Jim was not above sugaring his nephew up and dropping him off in retaliation.
"Yay!" Peter exclaimed, unabashed glee on his pudgy little face.
His grin was infectious and Jim could help but smile, too. "How does Cold Stone sound?"
"Ooh, yeah! Great! They have cake batter!" Peter said, looking pleased.
"Eww," Jim replied, glancing at the rear view mirror. "Cake batter? Gross! Chocolate all the way, my friend."
"Boooring," Peter told him.
Jim had to slam on the breaks suddenly, the guy in front of him stopping hard. Automatically, he reached back to make sure Peter was ok as he yelled at the other driver. "What the HELL, man? Can't you fucking drive?"
"Fuck you!" the other driver yelled back and flipped him off before driving away.
Jim responded in kind with his free hand, hating driving in San Fransisco intensely. "At least the stars don't fucking move," he grumbled.
Eventually, he deposited Peter on Sam's doorstep and glared at his brother, who looked answered the door with sex hair and post-coital glow (up until he saw Jim's expression and his son, at which point it evaporated).
"Sorry, Jim," Sam said, looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his head as he stepped to the side to let Peter into the house. "Lost track of time."
"Uh huh," Jim replied, still pissed. "Don't fucking do that again. I don't mind babysitting, but I do mind when it interferes with my plans."
"Sorry," Sam said again. "Really."
"It's fine," Jim said in a way that suggested he thought Sam was an asshole. "I have a date in half an hour, so I've got to go. Peter was well behaved--" Jim's comm chirped and he shoved his hand in his pants pocket to retrieve it. "And I fed him before we left."
Sam nodded. "Thanks."
"No problem. See ya," he said, turning around to leave. As he walked down the drive way, he opened the message and found that Uhura had sent him a picture.
A picture of Peter flipping all and sundry off as a pissed-looking Jim drove the car. There was text at the bottom of the photo.
Yours?
Jim chuckled.
My nephew. And how the fuck did you get a picture of us?
The response was instant.
Was out and about. Saw a nice car. Saw my boss in it. Saw a kid in the car flipping the world off. And then I had questions.
Laughing, Jim replied as he climbed into the car.
Babysitting. My brother was busy getting laid and forgot the time, and I have plans with Bones soon. Also, I hate California drivers.
I see. And I believe the entire Federation does. Have fun tonight.
I will, thanks.
With that, Jim stuffed his jacket pocket and started the car. He'd be cutting it close, but he figured he'd make it on time. He had been simultaneously looking forward to this for ages and nervous as hell.
Tonight, he planned to propose.
Title: Eating In
Rating: T
Genre: romance, humor
Summary: Jim has a choice: bacon or Bones?
Jim rolled his eyes. "I know you! You're not even out of bed yet!" he hollered back through the slats. "And I'm almost done!" Jim took one last look at his ass in the mirror and adjusted his junk. These jeans were too tight for actual underwear, but they made Bones a little wild-eyed every time he saw Jim in them.
He opened the door, and a groggy-and-annoyed Bones leaned up on one elbow give him a glare. Jim couldn't help but grin when the eyebrow shift from annoyed to glaring stopped way through, shifted some more, and then settled on confused and interested Jim sashayed toward him, exaggerating the sway of his hips.
Resting his weight on one arm and leaning over Bones, he brushed his lips against the shell of his boyfriend's ear. "See, I was right. You're still in bed."
The eyebrows rearranged themselves into an actual glower. "Shut up. There better be water left."
"'Course," Jim replied, allowing Bones to push him away and chuckling when his hands lingered. "Don't want my pretty pretty princess to not have hot water. He gets all crotchety when he doesn't." Jim laughed when Bones flipped him the bird and added, "Don't forget breakfast is over soon!"
"Shoulda gotten out sooner!" Bones called through the door. "Serves you right if we miss out."
Jim lounged in the ancient armchair by their door, idly flipping through feeds as he waited for his boyfriend to come out. Bones took advantage of the almost endless supply of hot water the house had - they were house sitting for Bones's favorite cousin in a remote and beautiful part of Tennessee - and came out soon with a cloud of steam at his heels, in only jeans himself.
Jim weighed the promise of real, actually-from-a-pig, bacon against pushing Bones up against the wall and doing filthy things to him as the man rifled through the dresser for a shirt. He let the balance hang for a long moment before plastering himself against Bones's shower-damp back and tilting his head to mouth along Bones's jaw up under his ear.
Bones stilled for a long moment. "I guess we can eat in."
Jim chuckled. "Good."
Title: Drawers
Rating: T
Genre: Humor and friendship? I don't know. You can read this as pre-slash or actual slash, so whatever.
Summary: Jim has no qualms about being half naked to fix a car. Bones does.
Jim climbs into the front and closes the door behind him, leaning his chin on the back of the bench to watch Bones, who blinks at him in the afternoon light and stretches out on the vinyl seats. "No," he grumbles. "Damn pants keep making it hard to bend over to get at the busted valve."
"Told you not to wear them for a drive, Jim."
"You tell me not to do a lot of things," he points out idly, a smile quirking his lip.
"And yet you persist," Bones says and shifts to a more comfortable position, letting his eyes flutter shut as he sprawls out on his back as much as the car will allow. "Imagine my surprise when you have problems."
Jim rolls his eyes and proceeds to peel off his pants, jostling the car enough to make Bones open his eyes. He's got his left leg stuck in the pantleg still and is working at the zipper when Bones drags himself into a slouching and snaps at him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I need to fix the car," Jim says reasonably. "Can't do it in these pants."
"So you're gonna prance around in your drawers while you mess around with your car in the middle of a high summer afternoon?"
"Well," Jim pauses. "Yeah, I guess."
"And what the hell kind of drawers can you even wear under those pants? I've seen damn near all your underwear and I can't think of any you have that would work with those things." He sits up and examines Jim, who's still unstuck the zipper at his calf. "And there's my answer," Bones says, as if he can't quite believe Jim. "No underwear at all."
Jim shrugs. "Nobody comes past here, Bones," he points out. "Ah! Got it!" Jim pulls the zipper up past his calf and retrieves his leg, boot and all, before putting his hand on the car door handle. "If there was lots of traffic, I'd figure something else out, but as it is, there's been like two old biker dudes in the last three hours."
Bones makes a sound of deep frustration before struggling out of his pants and flinging them at Jim. "Put these on, for god's sake! Can't have you brought up on public indecency charges, because then who am I gonna steal beer from if they kick out out of the 'Fleet or something?"
Jim chuckles and takes the pants from where Bones had thrown them. Sliding in, he says, "Well, there's your roommate, Clancy."
"Clancy drinks Bud Light, Jim," he says, as if it were a crime against nature. "Bud Light. Now go fix the car so we can go home."
With a laugh, Jim shuts the car door and goes back to work on the engine, listening to Bones grumble about sticky vinyl seats and stupid people named Jim Kirk.
Title: Dreams
Rating: T
Genre: romance, tragedy (past)
Warnings: past character death
Summary: Bones dreams of Jim.
"Bones!" Jim called to him, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he slowly rode ahead. "You coming or what?"
"Yeah, yeah, you infant," Leonard replied, unable to hold a smile as he messed with his boke. This was Jim, happy and young, one fall morning on the bay as the fog burned off. He stepped away from the contraption and gestured Jim closer. "C'mere."
Jim gave him a mischievous look and turning around to pump the pedals hard, the wind making his hood flap at his back as he raced right at Leonard.
Eyes widened, Leonard started to back up, only to stop when Jim gracefully swooped off to the side with a laugh. He went round and round in ever-tightening circles, a smile on his face.
"That's not what 'come here' means," Leonard told him with a chuckle.
"I know," Jim replied with a broad grin, slowing gradually. "I enjoy being difficult."
Leonard rolled his eyes as Jim stopped in front of him, straddling his bike as a breeze swept in off the sea, his hair dancing in the wind.
Leonard closed the distance between them and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping his arms around Jim tightly.
Jim's hands clasped Leonard's bicep and shoulder, and they stood there for a brief moment before he leaned back. "What was that for?" He looked happy and a little confused. "Not that I'm complaining."
"I miss you," Leonard replied. He leaned in for a brief kiss, running a hand under Jim's sweater. "I love you."
Jim smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Love you, too."
Leonard wished this was real, that he could go back to this October morning, their second year at the Academy.
Jim faded in Leonard's arms as he woke up, disappointment and sorrow washing through him. He sat up in bed, swallowing hard.
Today was the twentieth anniversary of Jim's death. He had died under Leonard's hands after Spock rescued him from a hostage situation. The aliens responsible tortured him almost to the brink of death, but he had still been conscious when they got him to sickbay. Jim had taken so much damage that Leonard couldn't save him, but he met Leonard's eyes and smiled a little before he faded away and the biobed flatlined for the last time.
An hour later found him on the edge of the pier where they had ridden bikes that October morning, and he leaned the old fashioned bike against one of the tall posts. Listening to the water lap and jostle under the old wood beneath his feet, he slowly sat down on the edge, ignoring the way the cold made his old bones ache and dangling his feet over the edge.
As he sipped a thermos of hot tea and leaned against the pier post, he imagined he could hear Jim's ringing laughter.
Title: Glass Box
Rating: T
Genre: friendship, humor
Summary: Bones rescues Jim from misadventure.
Unfortunately for him, it didn't and after fifteen or twenty chimes, Leonard gave in.
"What?" he demanded of the caller.
"Bones," Jim sounded small and embarrassed. "I need your help."
Leonard sat up and scrubbed his face. "What now?"
"I need you to come get me," Jim replied.
"I should just leave you there, wherever you are," Leonard said. "It'd serve you right for wakin' me up at ass o'clock to rescue you from some stupid stunt of yours," he added, getting up to search for clothing. "Better not be bailin' you out of jail, Jim."
The line is quiet for a moment. "You're not and I'm sorry, Bones. Please come get me? I wouldn't ask if I didn't need you."
"Yeah, yeah," Leonard muttered in reply, ignoring the peculiar tone of Jim's last words as he spied a pair of wearable jeans on his laundry pile. "Where the fuck are you?" he asked, pulling them on and reaching for a handy button up.
"Pier twenty three, toward the back of the dock," Jim replied.
Leonard groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. That was much further than he was really willing to go right now. The things he did for Jim. "Do I need my med kit?"
"No," Jim replied.
"Good," Leonard said. Glancing in the mirror, he decided his hair looked presentable enough for three in the morning. "Be there soon."
Closing his comm, he made his way to the nearest transit station, finding himself enjoying the shrouded stillness of the fog from the Bay.
When the transit came to his stop, he climbed off and wondered how exactly to find Jim in the thick fog.
"Jim!" he called. "Where the hell are you?"
There was no reply and he frowned, reaching for his comm.
"Bones," Jim greeted, "are you here yet?"
"Yeah," Leonard replied. "Now where are you?"
"Left side of the dock, under a lamp" Jim said quickly, sounding a bit embarrassed, and hung up.
Leonard pulled the comm away from him and glared at it, contemplating leaving Jim in the fog instead.
Two hundred or so meters down the dock, he found a large glass box under a light. As he approached, something began to hammer on it and he paused.
"Jim?"
There was a loud, muffled answer before his comm went off again.
"I'm here!" Jim said when Leonard answered. "Please tell me that's you."
"It is," Leonard agreed, stopping before the box. "How do I get you out?" he asked, wiping away fog from the surface and fighting a grin. Only Jim would get himself locked up in a box of glass on an old pier.
A hand ferociously rubbed a circle of fog off the inside of the box and Jim's face appeared. Jim glared at Leonard when he almost dropped his comm laughing.
"Who did that?" Leonard asked, almost wheezing. Jim looked like a cartoon, with bad spray-tan orange skin and colorful, hugely exaggerated eyes. "I need to buy them a beer!"
Jim's glaring increased and said, "I'll tell you when you let me out."
"And how do I do that?" Leonard asked, reigning in his laughter. "Should I have gotten a glass cutter?"
"No," Jim replied, "there's a handle on the other side of the box." He pointed behind him and flattened a hand against the glass. "Please? I wanna go home."
"Like I would leave you when I came all the way here already," Leonard replied before circling the box. Sure enough, there was a door handle. He opened it and Jim spilled out into the cool morning air, jamming his comm into his pocket as he went.
"Thanks," Jim said with an embarrassed smile.
"You're welcome," Leonard replied, trying not to snicker. "How long were you in there?"
"Too damn long," Jim muttered. "Tried to get the door open on my own, couldn't. Almost took my comm apart to get something more to work with but thought I should try to get a hold of help first." He turned earnest, larger-looking-than-usual eyes on Leonard. "I really am sorry you had to come out here. I knew you had a busy, hellish day, and I didn't want to bother you, so I tried everyone else first before I called."
Leonard reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "And you know I always come."
Jim studied him and then smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Any time," Leonard said sincerely and squeezed his shoulder again. "Now, are you gonna tell me who did that?" he asked lightly.
"Only if you promise to help me exact my revenge," Jim replied, his voice equally light as he continued to examine Leonard.
Leonard hummed in response. "Maybe. Depends on context," he said, heading back toward the street. When Jim didn't move, he turned around. "You comin' or not?"
Jim smiled a rare kind of smile, one that was peace and quiet happiness made real and something Leonard saw too damn little of. "Yeah," he said and caught up with Leonard. "The thing of it was was that I lost a bet to Gaila, and then, well, things got out of hand."
"And you ended up in a glass box on a semi-abandoned pier."
"Yep. Anyway," Jim started, "Jack had gotten Romulan ale and..."
Disclaimer: I need one. What does that tell you?
A/n: All comment fics from Jim_and_Bones that have been kicking around for a while.
Title: Big Plans
Rating: T
Genre: family, romance, humor
Summary: Sam forgot to pick up Peter. Jim was displeased.
He was also really fucking annoyed. He loved Peter to bits and pieces, but he also had big plans with Bones in about forty five minutes and Bones hated tardiness with a burning passion that bordered on what he felt for idiocy. Jim knew Bones would understand, but some annoyance would still be there (at Sam, more than anything) and he'd rather not have that mar the evening.
"Unca Jiiim," Peter whined. "Can we get ice cream?"
He held back a snap. "No, Peter, you're going home soon and your mom will be unhappy with us both. But maybe next time." Jim was not above sugaring his nephew up and dropping him off in retaliation.
"Yay!" Peter exclaimed, unabashed glee on his pudgy little face.
His grin was infectious and Jim could help but smile, too. "How does Cold Stone sound?"
"Ooh, yeah! Great! They have cake batter!" Peter said, looking pleased.
"Eww," Jim replied, glancing at the rear view mirror. "Cake batter? Gross! Chocolate all the way, my friend."
"Boooring," Peter told him.
Jim had to slam on the breaks suddenly, the guy in front of him stopping hard. Automatically, he reached back to make sure Peter was ok as he yelled at the other driver. "What the HELL, man? Can't you fucking drive?"
"Fuck you!" the other driver yelled back and flipped him off before driving away.
Jim responded in kind with his free hand, hating driving in San Fransisco intensely. "At least the stars don't fucking move," he grumbled.
Eventually, he deposited Peter on Sam's doorstep and glared at his brother, who looked answered the door with sex hair and post-coital glow (up until he saw Jim's expression and his son, at which point it evaporated).
"Sorry, Jim," Sam said, looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his head as he stepped to the side to let Peter into the house. "Lost track of time."
"Uh huh," Jim replied, still pissed. "Don't fucking do that again. I don't mind babysitting, but I do mind when it interferes with my plans."
"Sorry," Sam said again. "Really."
"It's fine," Jim said in a way that suggested he thought Sam was an asshole. "I have a date in half an hour, so I've got to go. Peter was well behaved--" Jim's comm chirped and he shoved his hand in his pants pocket to retrieve it. "And I fed him before we left."
Sam nodded. "Thanks."
"No problem. See ya," he said, turning around to leave. As he walked down the drive way, he opened the message and found that Uhura had sent him a picture.
A picture of Peter flipping all and sundry off as a pissed-looking Jim drove the car. There was text at the bottom of the photo.
Yours?
Jim chuckled.
My nephew. And how the fuck did you get a picture of us?
The response was instant.
Was out and about. Saw a nice car. Saw my boss in it. Saw a kid in the car flipping the world off. And then I had questions.
Laughing, Jim replied as he climbed into the car.
Babysitting. My brother was busy getting laid and forgot the time, and I have plans with Bones soon. Also, I hate California drivers.
I see. And I believe the entire Federation does. Have fun tonight.
I will, thanks.
With that, Jim stuffed his jacket pocket and started the car. He'd be cutting it close, but he figured he'd make it on time. He had been simultaneously looking forward to this for ages and nervous as hell.
Tonight, he planned to propose.
Title: Eating In
Rating: T
Genre: romance, humor
Summary: Jim has a choice: bacon or Bones?
Jim rolled his eyes. "I know you! You're not even out of bed yet!" he hollered back through the slats. "And I'm almost done!" Jim took one last look at his ass in the mirror and adjusted his junk. These jeans were too tight for actual underwear, but they made Bones a little wild-eyed every time he saw Jim in them.
He opened the door, and a groggy-and-annoyed Bones leaned up on one elbow give him a glare. Jim couldn't help but grin when the eyebrow shift from annoyed to glaring stopped way through, shifted some more, and then settled on confused and interested Jim sashayed toward him, exaggerating the sway of his hips.
Resting his weight on one arm and leaning over Bones, he brushed his lips against the shell of his boyfriend's ear. "See, I was right. You're still in bed."
The eyebrows rearranged themselves into an actual glower. "Shut up. There better be water left."
"'Course," Jim replied, allowing Bones to push him away and chuckling when his hands lingered. "Don't want my pretty pretty princess to not have hot water. He gets all crotchety when he doesn't." Jim laughed when Bones flipped him the bird and added, "Don't forget breakfast is over soon!"
"Shoulda gotten out sooner!" Bones called through the door. "Serves you right if we miss out."
Jim lounged in the ancient armchair by their door, idly flipping through feeds as he waited for his boyfriend to come out. Bones took advantage of the almost endless supply of hot water the house had - they were house sitting for Bones's favorite cousin in a remote and beautiful part of Tennessee - and came out soon with a cloud of steam at his heels, in only jeans himself.
Jim weighed the promise of real, actually-from-a-pig, bacon against pushing Bones up against the wall and doing filthy things to him as the man rifled through the dresser for a shirt. He let the balance hang for a long moment before plastering himself against Bones's shower-damp back and tilting his head to mouth along Bones's jaw up under his ear.
Bones stilled for a long moment. "I guess we can eat in."
Jim chuckled. "Good."
Title: Drawers
Rating: T
Genre: Humor and friendship? I don't know. You can read this as pre-slash or actual slash, so whatever.
Summary: Jim has no qualms about being half naked to fix a car. Bones does.
Jim climbs into the front and closes the door behind him, leaning his chin on the back of the bench to watch Bones, who blinks at him in the afternoon light and stretches out on the vinyl seats. "No," he grumbles. "Damn pants keep making it hard to bend over to get at the busted valve."
"Told you not to wear them for a drive, Jim."
"You tell me not to do a lot of things," he points out idly, a smile quirking his lip.
"And yet you persist," Bones says and shifts to a more comfortable position, letting his eyes flutter shut as he sprawls out on his back as much as the car will allow. "Imagine my surprise when you have problems."
Jim rolls his eyes and proceeds to peel off his pants, jostling the car enough to make Bones open his eyes. He's got his left leg stuck in the pantleg still and is working at the zipper when Bones drags himself into a slouching and snaps at him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I need to fix the car," Jim says reasonably. "Can't do it in these pants."
"So you're gonna prance around in your drawers while you mess around with your car in the middle of a high summer afternoon?"
"Well," Jim pauses. "Yeah, I guess."
"And what the hell kind of drawers can you even wear under those pants? I've seen damn near all your underwear and I can't think of any you have that would work with those things." He sits up and examines Jim, who's still unstuck the zipper at his calf. "And there's my answer," Bones says, as if he can't quite believe Jim. "No underwear at all."
Jim shrugs. "Nobody comes past here, Bones," he points out. "Ah! Got it!" Jim pulls the zipper up past his calf and retrieves his leg, boot and all, before putting his hand on the car door handle. "If there was lots of traffic, I'd figure something else out, but as it is, there's been like two old biker dudes in the last three hours."
Bones makes a sound of deep frustration before struggling out of his pants and flinging them at Jim. "Put these on, for god's sake! Can't have you brought up on public indecency charges, because then who am I gonna steal beer from if they kick out out of the 'Fleet or something?"
Jim chuckles and takes the pants from where Bones had thrown them. Sliding in, he says, "Well, there's your roommate, Clancy."
"Clancy drinks Bud Light, Jim," he says, as if it were a crime against nature. "Bud Light. Now go fix the car so we can go home."
With a laugh, Jim shuts the car door and goes back to work on the engine, listening to Bones grumble about sticky vinyl seats and stupid people named Jim Kirk.
Title: Dreams
Rating: T
Genre: romance, tragedy (past)
Warnings: past character death
Summary: Bones dreams of Jim.
"Bones!" Jim called to him, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he slowly rode ahead. "You coming or what?"
"Yeah, yeah, you infant," Leonard replied, unable to hold a smile as he messed with his boke. This was Jim, happy and young, one fall morning on the bay as the fog burned off. He stepped away from the contraption and gestured Jim closer. "C'mere."
Jim gave him a mischievous look and turning around to pump the pedals hard, the wind making his hood flap at his back as he raced right at Leonard.
Eyes widened, Leonard started to back up, only to stop when Jim gracefully swooped off to the side with a laugh. He went round and round in ever-tightening circles, a smile on his face.
"That's not what 'come here' means," Leonard told him with a chuckle.
"I know," Jim replied with a broad grin, slowing gradually. "I enjoy being difficult."
Leonard rolled his eyes as Jim stopped in front of him, straddling his bike as a breeze swept in off the sea, his hair dancing in the wind.
Leonard closed the distance between them and pulled him into a kiss, wrapping his arms around Jim tightly.
Jim's hands clasped Leonard's bicep and shoulder, and they stood there for a brief moment before he leaned back. "What was that for?" He looked happy and a little confused. "Not that I'm complaining."
"I miss you," Leonard replied. He leaned in for a brief kiss, running a hand under Jim's sweater. "I love you."
Jim smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Love you, too."
Leonard wished this was real, that he could go back to this October morning, their second year at the Academy.
Jim faded in Leonard's arms as he woke up, disappointment and sorrow washing through him. He sat up in bed, swallowing hard.
Today was the twentieth anniversary of Jim's death. He had died under Leonard's hands after Spock rescued him from a hostage situation. The aliens responsible tortured him almost to the brink of death, but he had still been conscious when they got him to sickbay. Jim had taken so much damage that Leonard couldn't save him, but he met Leonard's eyes and smiled a little before he faded away and the biobed flatlined for the last time.
An hour later found him on the edge of the pier where they had ridden bikes that October morning, and he leaned the old fashioned bike against one of the tall posts. Listening to the water lap and jostle under the old wood beneath his feet, he slowly sat down on the edge, ignoring the way the cold made his old bones ache and dangling his feet over the edge.
As he sipped a thermos of hot tea and leaned against the pier post, he imagined he could hear Jim's ringing laughter.
Title: Glass Box
Rating: T
Genre: friendship, humor
Summary: Bones rescues Jim from misadventure.
Unfortunately for him, it didn't and after fifteen or twenty chimes, Leonard gave in.
"What?" he demanded of the caller.
"Bones," Jim sounded small and embarrassed. "I need your help."
Leonard sat up and scrubbed his face. "What now?"
"I need you to come get me," Jim replied.
"I should just leave you there, wherever you are," Leonard said. "It'd serve you right for wakin' me up at ass o'clock to rescue you from some stupid stunt of yours," he added, getting up to search for clothing. "Better not be bailin' you out of jail, Jim."
The line is quiet for a moment. "You're not and I'm sorry, Bones. Please come get me? I wouldn't ask if I didn't need you."
"Yeah, yeah," Leonard muttered in reply, ignoring the peculiar tone of Jim's last words as he spied a pair of wearable jeans on his laundry pile. "Where the fuck are you?" he asked, pulling them on and reaching for a handy button up.
"Pier twenty three, toward the back of the dock," Jim replied.
Leonard groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. That was much further than he was really willing to go right now. The things he did for Jim. "Do I need my med kit?"
"No," Jim replied.
"Good," Leonard said. Glancing in the mirror, he decided his hair looked presentable enough for three in the morning. "Be there soon."
Closing his comm, he made his way to the nearest transit station, finding himself enjoying the shrouded stillness of the fog from the Bay.
When the transit came to his stop, he climbed off and wondered how exactly to find Jim in the thick fog.
"Jim!" he called. "Where the hell are you?"
There was no reply and he frowned, reaching for his comm.
"Bones," Jim greeted, "are you here yet?"
"Yeah," Leonard replied. "Now where are you?"
"Left side of the dock, under a lamp" Jim said quickly, sounding a bit embarrassed, and hung up.
Leonard pulled the comm away from him and glared at it, contemplating leaving Jim in the fog instead.
Two hundred or so meters down the dock, he found a large glass box under a light. As he approached, something began to hammer on it and he paused.
"Jim?"
There was a loud, muffled answer before his comm went off again.
"I'm here!" Jim said when Leonard answered. "Please tell me that's you."
"It is," Leonard agreed, stopping before the box. "How do I get you out?" he asked, wiping away fog from the surface and fighting a grin. Only Jim would get himself locked up in a box of glass on an old pier.
A hand ferociously rubbed a circle of fog off the inside of the box and Jim's face appeared. Jim glared at Leonard when he almost dropped his comm laughing.
"Who did that?" Leonard asked, almost wheezing. Jim looked like a cartoon, with bad spray-tan orange skin and colorful, hugely exaggerated eyes. "I need to buy them a beer!"
Jim's glaring increased and said, "I'll tell you when you let me out."
"And how do I do that?" Leonard asked, reigning in his laughter. "Should I have gotten a glass cutter?"
"No," Jim replied, "there's a handle on the other side of the box." He pointed behind him and flattened a hand against the glass. "Please? I wanna go home."
"Like I would leave you when I came all the way here already," Leonard replied before circling the box. Sure enough, there was a door handle. He opened it and Jim spilled out into the cool morning air, jamming his comm into his pocket as he went.
"Thanks," Jim said with an embarrassed smile.
"You're welcome," Leonard replied, trying not to snicker. "How long were you in there?"
"Too damn long," Jim muttered. "Tried to get the door open on my own, couldn't. Almost took my comm apart to get something more to work with but thought I should try to get a hold of help first." He turned earnest, larger-looking-than-usual eyes on Leonard. "I really am sorry you had to come out here. I knew you had a busy, hellish day, and I didn't want to bother you, so I tried everyone else first before I called."
Leonard reached out and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "And you know I always come."
Jim studied him and then smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"Any time," Leonard said sincerely and squeezed his shoulder again. "Now, are you gonna tell me who did that?" he asked lightly.
"Only if you promise to help me exact my revenge," Jim replied, his voice equally light as he continued to examine Leonard.
Leonard hummed in response. "Maybe. Depends on context," he said, heading back toward the street. When Jim didn't move, he turned around. "You comin' or not?"
Jim smiled a rare kind of smile, one that was peace and quiet happiness made real and something Leonard saw too damn little of. "Yeah," he said and caught up with Leonard. "The thing of it was was that I lost a bet to Gaila, and then, well, things got out of hand."
"And you ended up in a glass box on a semi-abandoned pier."
"Yep. Anyway," Jim started, "Jack had gotten Romulan ale and..."