fic: i know you (i walked with you once upon a dream)
title: i know you (i walked with you once upon a dream)
characters: kirk/mccoy
rating: ncc-1701
word count: 2,000
fandom: aos
warnings: sexytimes! brief rimming.
notes: inappropriate title is inappropriate.
summary: from this prompt at the buckleup_meme. prompt summary: once upon a time, jim kirk needed money. so he modeled underwear. bones knew he'd seen jim somewhere. awkwardness and debauchery ensue.
disclaimer: star trek and sleeping beauty ( among other things ) don't belong to me.
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The first time Leonard McCoy meets Jim Kirk, he gets an extreme sense of déjà vu. The kid’s got blood on his tee and rapidly forming bruises on his face and such a tangible aura of sexuality that Leonard can feel the back of his neck heating up, and he smirks over at him and takes the flask Leonard offers and wraps his lips around it and oh, that does something to the pit of Leonard’s stomach.
Once they’re off the shuttle, however, Kirk gets shunted from Leonard’s mind in a wave of paperwork, moving, roommates, requests for singles, new classes, and goddamned homework. He spends most of his time working or bickering with Jocelyn to try to get some vidcall time with his daughter, and the rest of it sleeping. At some point he receives a large box via airmail (unpaid, of course, he thinks, as he fishes some credits out of his wallet-) containing most of his worldly possessions, which includes his modest porn collection, on top of which Joss had pressed a sticky note that read Fuck You with a smiley face. He unpacks everything (it’s mostly clothes, and some old medical journals) and shoves the porn under his bed, followed by the rest of the contents. Starfleet issued uniforms are the only clothing he’ll need for the next oh-fuck-million years.
“Professor Enlows fucking-kicked me out of class-fuck this shit-I’m going home-” And so Leonard finds himself without a roommate halfway through second semester. Not that it matters, really, because he’s never in the room anyway; he’s picked up shifts at Starfleet Medical to cover child support, and on top of schoolwork at that. He hardly notices enough to do more than say “So long,” to his old roommate and “Hi, your bed’s on the left,” to the new.
Except his new roommate is Kirk, and he stubbornly refuses to let Leonard be.
“Let’s go get drunk.”
“No.”
“Bones.”
“No. Jim, I have work to do.”
“You say that every night!”
He’d been kicked out of his apartment, Jim explains, swinging his legs, looking down at Leonard from his perch on Leonard’s desk. “For noises,” he says, and winks, leaving Leonard with no doubts as to what those noises entailed, “So now here I am, being your awesome roommate.”
“Lucky me,” Leonard grouses, shoving at his knee with a shoulder, “Now get off my desk.”
Things follow along this vein for several weeks, and eventually Leonard agrees to go out drinking with Jim. This is actually a really great idea, because, as it turns out, Jim knows how to have a good time. “I told you,” shouts Jim, waving at him with his beer. Leonard ignores him and goes back to his drink, eyeing the drunken crowd just beyond their little table. When they’d gotten here, he’d almost backed out; Leonard McCoy doesn’t like people. But Jim had dragged him to this back table and pushed him into the seat, disappearing for just a moment only to return with four drinks-how he carries all of them seems to be just another one of those mysteries Leonard can’t ever hope to solve-two for Jim, two for Leonard, and a promise that he won’t try to make Leonard dance.
After that, things get considerably less awful in 608 Archer Res. Leonard occasionally agrees to go barhopping and Jim backs off a little during the day. He seems to have decided they’re going to BFFs. Leonard gets clued into this little fact when Jim calls him from the Security Station to come bail him out. Drunk, giggly, and bleeding, he leans heavily on Leonard and murmurs things about friendship and forever and space and-tribbles?-while Leonard drags him angrily back to the dorms. Jim slurs, “Sorry ‘bout the bail, Bones,” and then passes out in the doorway, so Leonard drags him to his bed and strips him down to his boxers. Then he manhandles Jim under the covers and smoothes back his hair and leans down to brush his lips to Jim’s forehead.
Because yeah, Jim’s attractive, in a Mr. Starfleet sort of way, but also in a breathless, terrifying way. And there’s something about him that Leonard can’t put his finger on, this pull that makes his heart hammer in his throat every time the kid smiles.
It’s bizarre.
And then there is a mix-up with the laundry. It’s not really a big deal; everyone in their dorm is issued new uniforms and they all just dig deeper in their closets for old, ratty underwear. Leonard fishes out his old boxers from the suitcase under his bed. Jim starts wearing briefs. “I hate wearing them,” Jim complains, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom in nothing but, hands on his hips, twisting to get a look at his ass, “They make my butt look huge.”
Leonard’s too busy trying to regain some equilibrium to reply. He waits until Jim leaves for class, and then he dives under the bed.
He comes up clutching the box of porn. Shakily, he upends it and sifts through the few vids and magazines until he finds the one he’s looking for. It’s not even real porn, just a women’s fashion magazine he’d stolen from Jocelyn. He flips it open, the pages fluttering until they fall into a familiar shape, bent away from the sweat-wrinkly, coveted men’s underwear ad. It’s so obvious he can’t believe he never made the correlation before.
“Hey Jim,” he asks, nonchalantly, a few days later, “D’you ever work, before?”
Jim looks up from his PADD, sprawled out on his bed. He looks surprised. “Uh, yeah. Odd jobs, mostly-handyman type stuff. I worked as a dishwasher, for awhile there. Why?”
Leonard holds his gaze, not sure why he’s doing this. Some self-destructive part of himself, deep down, is cheering him on, making him brazen. “Ever model?”
There’s a pause. Jim’s mouth falls open, and then shuts. He starts to sit up. “How’d you know?”
“Yeah, I, uh-“
He stops, glances at his nightstand before he can stop himself. Jim, of course, observant bastard that he is, notices the movement, and dives off the bed. Leonard scrambles to stop him, but he only manages to get a good grip on Jim’s leg, which results in him being half-dragged across the floor as Jim struggles to reach his goal.
He does. Flinging the drawer open, he pulls out he magazine, gaping. “Oh my god, Bones, no way.”
All he can think, now, as he clings to the leg of the man who has just found himself in Leonard’s bonafide porn, is that he so regrets this so much oh god why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut what what what oh god oh god-
“Bones, man, this is from, like, three years ago. What’ve you been doing with it this whole time?”
Okay, Leonard thinks, having resigned himself to the floor, He hasn’t caught on. I just have to-
Jim snorts, and then looks down at him in astonishment. “Have you-Seriously, what have you been doing with it?” He rifles through the pages for a moment. “There’s no way it’s reading, because I’m pretty sure you don’t have any interest in ‘Ten New Jeans That Slim-No Matter What!’ and I don’t know what else you’d-Wait. Oh, my god, Bones.”
Leonard can feel Jim’s eyes on him as he lets go and stands up, turning his back. “Oh, just leave it, Jim.”
“Oh, you have,” Jim crows, tumbling backward onto Leonard’s bed. With nowhere else to go but the desk chairs, Leonard sits down on Jim’s, embarrassment making him dizzy. “Wow, shit, you lucky bastard.”
Wait. “What?”
When Leonard looks up, Jim is grinning at him, his eyes flashing icy hot. Grinning, and unbuttoning. “Bones, all I’ve had these past few months has been my imagination. And you’ve been doing the same thing, for years, only you had actual pictures. Do you know how hot that is?”
His brain is scrambling to reboot, and the most he can get out in the form of an English sentence is, “What?” again. He can’t keep his eyes off Jim’s dexterous fingers as they unpop the last button on his uniform shirt and then move to his fly.
“What, do you not want to do this?” Jim sighs as he gets his pants open, shifting so he can tug them down around his ankles. Doing his level best to look anywhere but at the dark, tight underwear that started all of this, Leonard makes the mistake of meeting his gaze. His gut clenches. Jim, the stupid bastard, has pulled his cock free and is stroking it, lazily. “Because I want you to tell me,” he pauses to rifle through Leonard’s drawer again, coming up with lube, “Just what exactly,” he squirts some into his hand then tosses the tube across, where it thwacks against Leonard’s thigh, “You were thinking about, when you jacked off to this, mmm, yeah, picture. Of me.”
He nods at the magazine, lying forgotten on the floor. Leonard stares at the Jim on the page, the sinuous curve of his back as he lays stretched out in the grass. Then, suddenly, he can’t get his own pants off fast enough. Jim chuckles as he shucks his pants and pulls his boxers down to his knees. “I don’t know what you want me to do here, Jim.”
“Let me start you off. Oh, Jim, when I touched myself to your picture, I always imagined you doing-“ Jim gestures vaguely with his free hand. Leonard flushes and rolls his eyes.
“Goddamnit. Okay. Okay, uh. It was always after the shoot, you’d still be in the field, uh. You’d be, yeah, like that,” he trails off as Jim jerks himself just a hair faster, thumb teasing the sensitive spot below the head. Jim looks at him expectantly, though, and he can see how this is going to go, and it sends a hot shiver down his spine and to his cock. “And I’d be watching-even before I met you, ah, I knew you’d be an exhibitionist-” Jim laughs, which turns into a small moan. “And I imagined you would be on your back, stroking your cock, and when you realized I was there you’d get up on your hands and knees and, oh, god,” because Jim is suddenly stripping the rest of his clothes off and then doing exactly that, clamboring up onto the bed and watching Leonard.
“Then what?” His voice is throaty, expectant. Leonard slows down, wanting this to last, amazed that it’s even happening at all. After a moment he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, so he shifts a little and goes on.
“You’d reach behind yourself and touch yourself, not push in, just, you’d just rub for a minute, and you’d be wishing it was someone’s tongue,” They both moan, Leonard’s hand going faster up and down his cock, breath hitching, watching Jim struggle with keeping his balance, “And I’d-“
“You’d what?”
“I’d, oh, ask you if you could come just from that, just from your own fingers in your ass.” He pauses, unsure. Then he glances at Jim’s flushed face and makes up his mind. “Can you? Come like that?”
Jim’s head drops, and he exhales sharply. “I don’t know,” he replies.
“Do it,” Leonard hisses, “Fuck yourself with your fingers.” He moans and tosses Jim the lube. Jim slicks his fingers and reaches behind himself again. “Wait, no. Face me. Lay back. Like this,” he says, leaning back against the wall, legs spread. From this angle he can watch Jim do the same, his cock and balls nestled between his legs, hole on display. “Okay, do it. C’mon, Jim-“
“You too, Bones,” Jim huffs, “Here-“ And the lube lands next to him again. He pours some out and mirrors Jim’s movements, reaching down to circle his hole and then, unable to stifle a moan, he follows as Jim pushes one finger in.
For a moment, they stare at each other, breathing hard. Then Jim squints, grips his cock with his free hand, and starts to pump his finger in and out. “Now what, Bones? Come on, tell me.”
He mirrors Jim. “Two. Two fingers-“ Even now he can feel orgasm begin to grow inside, so he slows his movements on his cock in favor of working a second finger inside. Jim seems to be having the same problem.
The second finger starts to stretch deliciously, and he watches Jim’s face flush even more at the burn. Whatever they’re doing, right now, Leonard hopes they’ll do again, because fuck it’s the hottest thing he’s ever been a part of. He’s still not sure he isn’t dreaming. It could very well be a dream, because he’s looking but he isn’t touching, and this is so far past Real Life, but then Jim moans his nickname and Leonard knows that there is absolutely no way his subconscious would ever be able to create something that-luscious. Luscious and Jim.
He fucks himself in time with Jim’s thrusts into his own hole. “That feel good, Bones?” Jim asks, grinning when all he can do is gasp a yes, “Yeah, feels good for me, too. Can’t wait for you to fuck me. But this is hot, too, oh, god, yes. Look at you, all spread out for me, can’t keep your eyes off me, can you? Oh.” The hand on his cock is moving too fast to try to synchronize, so Leonard just speeds up himself, abandoning the slow tug-swipe of his thumb over the head in favor of working himself to orgasm.
“Look at you,” Jim’s whispering, “So hot, taking it, oh-“ His knees are starting to shake, tremors which are affecting his breath, too. “You close?”
“Yeah, Jim, I-“ Heat is roiling inside him now, threatening to overcome him.
Distantly he hears Jim shifting, and he opens his eyes to see Jim kneeling in front of him, feels Jim lean forward to swipe at the rim of Leonard’s hole with his tongue, lips closing against his fingers, and then he leans forward. “Come for me, Bones.”
He does.
When he comes to, Jim has cleaned them both off and is depositing the cloth in the laundry chute. Then he climbs on to his bed and bundles Leonard around until they're both lying back against the pillows. "Mmm," he says, kissing Leonard on the forehead, a reminder that they haven't actually kissed, "Wait 'til I show you the leather ads."
characters: kirk/mccoy
rating: ncc-1701
word count: 2,000
fandom: aos
warnings: sexytimes! brief rimming.
notes: inappropriate title is inappropriate.
summary: from this prompt at the buckleup_meme. prompt summary: once upon a time, jim kirk needed money. so he modeled underwear. bones knew he'd seen jim somewhere. awkwardness and debauchery ensue.
disclaimer: star trek and sleeping beauty ( among other things ) don't belong to me.
-
-
The first time Leonard McCoy meets Jim Kirk, he gets an extreme sense of déjà vu. The kid’s got blood on his tee and rapidly forming bruises on his face and such a tangible aura of sexuality that Leonard can feel the back of his neck heating up, and he smirks over at him and takes the flask Leonard offers and wraps his lips around it and oh, that does something to the pit of Leonard’s stomach.
Once they’re off the shuttle, however, Kirk gets shunted from Leonard’s mind in a wave of paperwork, moving, roommates, requests for singles, new classes, and goddamned homework. He spends most of his time working or bickering with Jocelyn to try to get some vidcall time with his daughter, and the rest of it sleeping. At some point he receives a large box via airmail (unpaid, of course, he thinks, as he fishes some credits out of his wallet-) containing most of his worldly possessions, which includes his modest porn collection, on top of which Joss had pressed a sticky note that read Fuck You with a smiley face. He unpacks everything (it’s mostly clothes, and some old medical journals) and shoves the porn under his bed, followed by the rest of the contents. Starfleet issued uniforms are the only clothing he’ll need for the next oh-fuck-million years.
“Professor Enlows fucking-kicked me out of class-fuck this shit-I’m going home-” And so Leonard finds himself without a roommate halfway through second semester. Not that it matters, really, because he’s never in the room anyway; he’s picked up shifts at Starfleet Medical to cover child support, and on top of schoolwork at that. He hardly notices enough to do more than say “So long,” to his old roommate and “Hi, your bed’s on the left,” to the new.
Except his new roommate is Kirk, and he stubbornly refuses to let Leonard be.
“Let’s go get drunk.”
“No.”
“Bones.”
“No. Jim, I have work to do.”
“You say that every night!”
He’d been kicked out of his apartment, Jim explains, swinging his legs, looking down at Leonard from his perch on Leonard’s desk. “For noises,” he says, and winks, leaving Leonard with no doubts as to what those noises entailed, “So now here I am, being your awesome roommate.”
“Lucky me,” Leonard grouses, shoving at his knee with a shoulder, “Now get off my desk.”
Things follow along this vein for several weeks, and eventually Leonard agrees to go out drinking with Jim. This is actually a really great idea, because, as it turns out, Jim knows how to have a good time. “I told you,” shouts Jim, waving at him with his beer. Leonard ignores him and goes back to his drink, eyeing the drunken crowd just beyond their little table. When they’d gotten here, he’d almost backed out; Leonard McCoy doesn’t like people. But Jim had dragged him to this back table and pushed him into the seat, disappearing for just a moment only to return with four drinks-how he carries all of them seems to be just another one of those mysteries Leonard can’t ever hope to solve-two for Jim, two for Leonard, and a promise that he won’t try to make Leonard dance.
After that, things get considerably less awful in 608 Archer Res. Leonard occasionally agrees to go barhopping and Jim backs off a little during the day. He seems to have decided they’re going to BFFs. Leonard gets clued into this little fact when Jim calls him from the Security Station to come bail him out. Drunk, giggly, and bleeding, he leans heavily on Leonard and murmurs things about friendship and forever and space and-tribbles?-while Leonard drags him angrily back to the dorms. Jim slurs, “Sorry ‘bout the bail, Bones,” and then passes out in the doorway, so Leonard drags him to his bed and strips him down to his boxers. Then he manhandles Jim under the covers and smoothes back his hair and leans down to brush his lips to Jim’s forehead.
Because yeah, Jim’s attractive, in a Mr. Starfleet sort of way, but also in a breathless, terrifying way. And there’s something about him that Leonard can’t put his finger on, this pull that makes his heart hammer in his throat every time the kid smiles.
It’s bizarre.
And then there is a mix-up with the laundry. It’s not really a big deal; everyone in their dorm is issued new uniforms and they all just dig deeper in their closets for old, ratty underwear. Leonard fishes out his old boxers from the suitcase under his bed. Jim starts wearing briefs. “I hate wearing them,” Jim complains, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom in nothing but, hands on his hips, twisting to get a look at his ass, “They make my butt look huge.”
Leonard’s too busy trying to regain some equilibrium to reply. He waits until Jim leaves for class, and then he dives under the bed.
He comes up clutching the box of porn. Shakily, he upends it and sifts through the few vids and magazines until he finds the one he’s looking for. It’s not even real porn, just a women’s fashion magazine he’d stolen from Jocelyn. He flips it open, the pages fluttering until they fall into a familiar shape, bent away from the sweat-wrinkly, coveted men’s underwear ad. It’s so obvious he can’t believe he never made the correlation before.
“Hey Jim,” he asks, nonchalantly, a few days later, “D’you ever work, before?”
Jim looks up from his PADD, sprawled out on his bed. He looks surprised. “Uh, yeah. Odd jobs, mostly-handyman type stuff. I worked as a dishwasher, for awhile there. Why?”
Leonard holds his gaze, not sure why he’s doing this. Some self-destructive part of himself, deep down, is cheering him on, making him brazen. “Ever model?”
There’s a pause. Jim’s mouth falls open, and then shuts. He starts to sit up. “How’d you know?”
“Yeah, I, uh-“
He stops, glances at his nightstand before he can stop himself. Jim, of course, observant bastard that he is, notices the movement, and dives off the bed. Leonard scrambles to stop him, but he only manages to get a good grip on Jim’s leg, which results in him being half-dragged across the floor as Jim struggles to reach his goal.
He does. Flinging the drawer open, he pulls out he magazine, gaping. “Oh my god, Bones, no way.”
All he can think, now, as he clings to the leg of the man who has just found himself in Leonard’s bonafide porn, is that he so regrets this so much oh god why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut what what what oh god oh god-
“Bones, man, this is from, like, three years ago. What’ve you been doing with it this whole time?”
Okay, Leonard thinks, having resigned himself to the floor, He hasn’t caught on. I just have to-
Jim snorts, and then looks down at him in astonishment. “Have you-Seriously, what have you been doing with it?” He rifles through the pages for a moment. “There’s no way it’s reading, because I’m pretty sure you don’t have any interest in ‘Ten New Jeans That Slim-No Matter What!’ and I don’t know what else you’d-Wait. Oh, my god, Bones.”
Leonard can feel Jim’s eyes on him as he lets go and stands up, turning his back. “Oh, just leave it, Jim.”
“Oh, you have,” Jim crows, tumbling backward onto Leonard’s bed. With nowhere else to go but the desk chairs, Leonard sits down on Jim’s, embarrassment making him dizzy. “Wow, shit, you lucky bastard.”
Wait. “What?”
When Leonard looks up, Jim is grinning at him, his eyes flashing icy hot. Grinning, and unbuttoning. “Bones, all I’ve had these past few months has been my imagination. And you’ve been doing the same thing, for years, only you had actual pictures. Do you know how hot that is?”
His brain is scrambling to reboot, and the most he can get out in the form of an English sentence is, “What?” again. He can’t keep his eyes off Jim’s dexterous fingers as they unpop the last button on his uniform shirt and then move to his fly.
“What, do you not want to do this?” Jim sighs as he gets his pants open, shifting so he can tug them down around his ankles. Doing his level best to look anywhere but at the dark, tight underwear that started all of this, Leonard makes the mistake of meeting his gaze. His gut clenches. Jim, the stupid bastard, has pulled his cock free and is stroking it, lazily. “Because I want you to tell me,” he pauses to rifle through Leonard’s drawer again, coming up with lube, “Just what exactly,” he squirts some into his hand then tosses the tube across, where it thwacks against Leonard’s thigh, “You were thinking about, when you jacked off to this, mmm, yeah, picture. Of me.”
He nods at the magazine, lying forgotten on the floor. Leonard stares at the Jim on the page, the sinuous curve of his back as he lays stretched out in the grass. Then, suddenly, he can’t get his own pants off fast enough. Jim chuckles as he shucks his pants and pulls his boxers down to his knees. “I don’t know what you want me to do here, Jim.”
“Let me start you off. Oh, Jim, when I touched myself to your picture, I always imagined you doing-“ Jim gestures vaguely with his free hand. Leonard flushes and rolls his eyes.
“Goddamnit. Okay. Okay, uh. It was always after the shoot, you’d still be in the field, uh. You’d be, yeah, like that,” he trails off as Jim jerks himself just a hair faster, thumb teasing the sensitive spot below the head. Jim looks at him expectantly, though, and he can see how this is going to go, and it sends a hot shiver down his spine and to his cock. “And I’d be watching-even before I met you, ah, I knew you’d be an exhibitionist-” Jim laughs, which turns into a small moan. “And I imagined you would be on your back, stroking your cock, and when you realized I was there you’d get up on your hands and knees and, oh, god,” because Jim is suddenly stripping the rest of his clothes off and then doing exactly that, clamboring up onto the bed and watching Leonard.
“Then what?” His voice is throaty, expectant. Leonard slows down, wanting this to last, amazed that it’s even happening at all. After a moment he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, so he shifts a little and goes on.
“You’d reach behind yourself and touch yourself, not push in, just, you’d just rub for a minute, and you’d be wishing it was someone’s tongue,” They both moan, Leonard’s hand going faster up and down his cock, breath hitching, watching Jim struggle with keeping his balance, “And I’d-“
“You’d what?”
“I’d, oh, ask you if you could come just from that, just from your own fingers in your ass.” He pauses, unsure. Then he glances at Jim’s flushed face and makes up his mind. “Can you? Come like that?”
Jim’s head drops, and he exhales sharply. “I don’t know,” he replies.
“Do it,” Leonard hisses, “Fuck yourself with your fingers.” He moans and tosses Jim the lube. Jim slicks his fingers and reaches behind himself again. “Wait, no. Face me. Lay back. Like this,” he says, leaning back against the wall, legs spread. From this angle he can watch Jim do the same, his cock and balls nestled between his legs, hole on display. “Okay, do it. C’mon, Jim-“
“You too, Bones,” Jim huffs, “Here-“ And the lube lands next to him again. He pours some out and mirrors Jim’s movements, reaching down to circle his hole and then, unable to stifle a moan, he follows as Jim pushes one finger in.
For a moment, they stare at each other, breathing hard. Then Jim squints, grips his cock with his free hand, and starts to pump his finger in and out. “Now what, Bones? Come on, tell me.”
He mirrors Jim. “Two. Two fingers-“ Even now he can feel orgasm begin to grow inside, so he slows his movements on his cock in favor of working a second finger inside. Jim seems to be having the same problem.
The second finger starts to stretch deliciously, and he watches Jim’s face flush even more at the burn. Whatever they’re doing, right now, Leonard hopes they’ll do again, because fuck it’s the hottest thing he’s ever been a part of. He’s still not sure he isn’t dreaming. It could very well be a dream, because he’s looking but he isn’t touching, and this is so far past Real Life, but then Jim moans his nickname and Leonard knows that there is absolutely no way his subconscious would ever be able to create something that-luscious. Luscious and Jim.
He fucks himself in time with Jim’s thrusts into his own hole. “That feel good, Bones?” Jim asks, grinning when all he can do is gasp a yes, “Yeah, feels good for me, too. Can’t wait for you to fuck me. But this is hot, too, oh, god, yes. Look at you, all spread out for me, can’t keep your eyes off me, can you? Oh.” The hand on his cock is moving too fast to try to synchronize, so Leonard just speeds up himself, abandoning the slow tug-swipe of his thumb over the head in favor of working himself to orgasm.
“Look at you,” Jim’s whispering, “So hot, taking it, oh-“ His knees are starting to shake, tremors which are affecting his breath, too. “You close?”
“Yeah, Jim, I-“ Heat is roiling inside him now, threatening to overcome him.
Distantly he hears Jim shifting, and he opens his eyes to see Jim kneeling in front of him, feels Jim lean forward to swipe at the rim of Leonard’s hole with his tongue, lips closing against his fingers, and then he leans forward. “Come for me, Bones.”
He does.
When he comes to, Jim has cleaned them both off and is depositing the cloth in the laundry chute. Then he climbs on to his bed and bundles Leonard around until they're both lying back against the pillows. "Mmm," he says, kissing Leonard on the forehead, a reminder that they haven't actually kissed, "Wait 'til I show you the leather ads."