[fill] The Properties of Flesh; NC-17 8/?
anonymous
March 27 2011, 16:50:48 UTC
Chekov answered the door, a small, mischievous grin on his lips that had Jim cocking an eyebrow. Jim slipped into the room. "Hey Bones," he said. Bones waved slightly at him, sitting at the table in the room. "Do you want Chekov to stay?" Jim asked, stepping further into the room. "We can have a quiet dinner and play cards or something..."
"It's all right," Bones said gruffly, looking slightly tense but determined. Jim glanced at Chekov, who grinned and soundlessly departed. Jim would have to corner Sulu and get details from him once this whole mess was over. Jim sat down at the table across from Bones as the door slid shut with the soft hiss of hydraulics. Silence loomed.
"I'm sorry," Jim burst out, the words forced through in a breathless rush before he could change his mind. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I couldn't think of another way... I should have- I should have offered myself, done something different-"
Jim dimly registered the sound of a chair clattering to the ground as Bones' arms went around him. Jim choked himself off with great effort, twisting his hands in the front of Bones' shirt. " 's all right, Jim," Bones murmured, voice rough. "They woulda killed the crew. Chekov and Sulu and McGuiggan would be dead now if you hadn't acted. Hell, I'd be dead now if you hadn't acted. You got us all out with less than a two day trip to MedBay. I'd say that's pretty damn impressive." Bones' arms tightened around him, one hand tangling in his hair, holding his head close against Bones' chest. Jim could hear the rapid thunder of Bones' heart under healthy flesh, and squashed his nose to Bones' shirt, trying to get closer. Bones was alive. He was alive, relatively unharmed, and alive. "Chekov told me you were able to keep the damage to a minimum," Bones said, his voice loud in Jim's ear, pressed to his chest.
"Sulu," Jim muttered. "Told me what to do." Bones' hand drifted through Jim's hair. Jim protested slightly as Bones loosed his hold, pulling away to kneel stiffly between Jim's legs. Jim stared at him miserably as Bones gripped both his hands.
"It's all right, Jim," Bones said again, voice low and even. He met Jim's eyes, and Jim had a hard time breathing. "I know you did what you had to. You know I'd willingly do it again, to keep the rest of the crew safe." Jim nodded. "Are you all right?"
Jim let out an incredulous huff. "Why does everyone keep asking me that!? You were the one laid up in MedBay for two days!" Bones' eyes hardened, and his grip on Jim's fingers grew almost painful.
"Damage isn't only physical, Jim," Bones reminded him quietly. Jim gently freed one of his hands to touch his fingers to Bones' jaw. Bones closed his eyes, and under the pads of Jim's fingers he could feel jaw muscles clenching, tight little spasms wherever he brushed. His entire body trembled with the effort of holding himself still under Jim's touch. Jim jerked his hand back as if stung, and when Bones opened his eyes he couldn't bring himself to look at Jim.
"Damage isn't only physical," Jim repeated, breathing harshly past the hurt pooling in his gut. "What can I do?" he asked, hating that his voice pitched with desperation. "Bones?"
"I know logically that you'd never hurt me, Jim," Bones said, voice breaking around the sentence. "My body just needs to relearn that. There's a reason it's called an irrational fear."
"It's not irrational if there's experiences to compliment the psychological," Jim said quietly. Bones glared at him.
"Fer chrissake, Jim," he growled before reaching out with both hands and gripping Jim's face firmly. He drew him close, smashing their mouths together inelegantly. Jim almost whimpered, fighting hard the instinct to reach up and grab Bones back. He wrapped his hands around the seat of the chair so hard his fingers hurt, focusing on the warmth of Bones' lips on his. Bones pulled back. "I love you."
"It's all right," Bones said gruffly, looking slightly tense but determined. Jim glanced at Chekov, who grinned and soundlessly departed. Jim would have to corner Sulu and get details from him once this whole mess was over. Jim sat down at the table across from Bones as the door slid shut with the soft hiss of hydraulics. Silence loomed.
"I'm sorry," Jim burst out, the words forced through in a breathless rush before he could change his mind. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I couldn't think of another way... I should have- I should have offered myself, done something different-"
Jim dimly registered the sound of a chair clattering to the ground as Bones' arms went around him. Jim choked himself off with great effort, twisting his hands in the front of Bones' shirt. " 's all right, Jim," Bones murmured, voice rough. "They woulda killed the crew. Chekov and Sulu and McGuiggan would be dead now if you hadn't acted. Hell, I'd be dead now if you hadn't acted. You got us all out with less than a two day trip to MedBay. I'd say that's pretty damn impressive." Bones' arms tightened around him, one hand tangling in his hair, holding his head close against Bones' chest. Jim could hear the rapid thunder of Bones' heart under healthy flesh, and squashed his nose to Bones' shirt, trying to get closer. Bones was alive. He was alive, relatively unharmed, and alive. "Chekov told me you were able to keep the damage to a minimum," Bones said, his voice loud in Jim's ear, pressed to his chest.
"Sulu," Jim muttered. "Told me what to do." Bones' hand drifted through Jim's hair. Jim protested slightly as Bones loosed his hold, pulling away to kneel stiffly between Jim's legs. Jim stared at him miserably as Bones gripped both his hands.
"It's all right, Jim," Bones said again, voice low and even. He met Jim's eyes, and Jim had a hard time breathing. "I know you did what you had to. You know I'd willingly do it again, to keep the rest of the crew safe." Jim nodded. "Are you all right?"
Jim let out an incredulous huff. "Why does everyone keep asking me that!? You were the one laid up in MedBay for two days!" Bones' eyes hardened, and his grip on Jim's fingers grew almost painful.
"Damage isn't only physical, Jim," Bones reminded him quietly. Jim gently freed one of his hands to touch his fingers to Bones' jaw. Bones closed his eyes, and under the pads of Jim's fingers he could feel jaw muscles clenching, tight little spasms wherever he brushed. His entire body trembled with the effort of holding himself still under Jim's touch. Jim jerked his hand back as if stung, and when Bones opened his eyes he couldn't bring himself to look at Jim.
"Damage isn't only physical," Jim repeated, breathing harshly past the hurt pooling in his gut. "What can I do?" he asked, hating that his voice pitched with desperation. "Bones?"
"I know logically that you'd never hurt me, Jim," Bones said, voice breaking around the sentence. "My body just needs to relearn that. There's a reason it's called an irrational fear."
"It's not irrational if there's experiences to compliment the psychological," Jim said quietly. Bones glared at him.
"Fer chrissake, Jim," he growled before reaching out with both hands and gripping Jim's face firmly. He drew him close, smashing their mouths together inelegantly. Jim almost whimpered, fighting hard the instinct to reach up and grab Bones back. He wrapped his hands around the seat of the chair so hard his fingers hurt, focusing on the warmth of Bones' lips on his. Bones pulled back. "I love you."
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