Between the Sand and Stone
A little something for my favorite captain, kirktastic! Happy birthday, sweetie! ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Jim's first birthday at the Academy, Bones missed entirely. Hadn't even been proper roommates yet, he had no idea how Jim spent the day.
The second year, once they'd fallen into an easy pattern, Jim had disappeared the entire day, Bones not knowing until two days later that it had been his roommate's birthday until Jim let something slip unconsciously about being twenty-four now. Of course, McCoy thought bitterly to himself. The Kelvin anniversary - how could he have been so blind when Jim came home busted up and drunk and sad. Only days later he realized then that it had been Jim's birthday.
Bones wasn't going to let that happen again.
"Wake up," he told Jim the morning he turned twenty-five. Jim threw a pillow at him in response.
"Asshole," Bones muttered, too much affection in his voice to be properly grumbly. "Get dressed," Bones continued, tossing some jeans on that prone body.
"Morning class was canceled," Jim answered from his bed, his voice thick with sleep as he rolled over. "Gonna sleep in."
"Nope," Bones told him, walking over to their small kitchen area and pouring himself some water. "I called in sick to the clinic."
Jim cracked an eye at that, sitting up in his bed, looking shocked - Bones never took a day off, even going to classes and work when he didn't feel well. Playing hooky - totally out of character for him, and Bones knew this would get Jim's attention. "Bullshit," he said, hair sticking up in all directions.
"Nope," he replied. "You wanna come with me, get dressed," Bones added, tossing a shirt on Jim as well.
Jim looked at him for a long time before taking a deep breath. Swinging his legs off the bed, he sat up, rubbing his face and making his way to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later, looking clean and awake. "Okay, where we going?" he asked suspiciously.
"Out." Bones stood, grabbing his jacket and headed out the door, looking back to make sure Jim was following. "And you're driving."
First stop was the little diner that they sometimes hit on the weekends, home of the best pancakes Bones had ever had. "Okay Bones," Jim said around a mouth full of food, "what's going on?"
Leonard finished his coffee, signaled the waitress for some more. "Been here for a while and I suddenly realized I've never seen some of the sights here. Thought we'd play tourist today."
"Seriously?" Jim asked, his own glass in midair. "You took a day off to do that?" He snickered. "And how long you been in San Francisco?"
Bones glared at Jim, then paid the check. "Ready?" he gruffed, heading out the door and waited for Jim by his bike. After that they headed toward the bay, Bones pointing Jim in the direction of the ferry heading out to a small island in the middle of the water. They took the walking tour of Alcatraz, listening to the audio recording of the history of the old prison and the criminals who'd been kept there. Jim was looking around the entire time, eyes darting as if looking for possible escape routes, not believing that he couldn't break out of this place.
A late lunch at Fisherman's Wharf, after which Jim tossed food to the group of sea lions that lived there. Then they headed down Lombard St, still one of the crookedest streets in the world, Bones closing his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around Jim as they took it with more speed that strictly necessary, and ended up at Golden Gate park, where they found a big shady tree, both of them closing their eyes for a bit, lounging in the late afternoon sun.
"One more stop," Bones said to Jim as the sun began going down. "Paul's place."
Paul's place was an apartment in the Heights. Jim's xenolinguistics study partner had filled the room with several people that Jim knew - friends, guys he knew from classes, girls Jim was fond of ... together Paul and Bones had called them, told them they had some good news and were celebrating. No one said the word 'birthday', though Bones suspected a few of them put two and two together.
A couple hours and several beers later, McCoy was starting to feel his age, despite (or perhaps because of) being hit on by a cute little redhead when he heard someone strumming a guitar, a few people sitting on the floor listening. Whoever it was playing had a nice voice, and he sang a song that was popular at the moment.
Jim came around from the corner he'd been standing in, beer in one hand and blonde in the other, eyes bright as he listened to the song. "Lemme see that," he said, light in his eyes as he was handed the guitar, draping the strap around his shoulder and setting his fingers in the correct place. He strummed a chord, then another, and began picking out a melody to a familiar song. Walking as he played, grinning that farm boy smile, Bones surprised to hear how good Jim was at that. Jim had told him once that he could play, but Bones had never actually heard him.
So lost in thought, Bones hadn't realized that Jim was standing in front of him. "Your turn," he told him, pulling the guitar strap off his shoulder and handing it to Bones, who raised an eyebrow at him. "You can play - remember, you told me, you played back when you were a kid?"
He shook his head. "Naw, you don't want to hear-"
"C'mon, Bones," Jim interrupted him. "It's my birthday," he said softly, as if it were a secret between them. Jim's eyes were... fuck, Bones didn't know how to describe the look, something between grateful and surprised, like the kid couldn't believe people wanted to spend time with him, wanted to be with him. "Sing me a song."
Bones picked up the guitar. It had been years... before his divorce, at least. Fingers strummed, then found their place - the last song he remembered playing with regularity. The one he would sing to Joanna, when she couldn't sleep.
He began to play, his fingers remembered better than he thought they would, and though he couldn't remember all the words, he hummed softly to himself, giving Jim a little smile when he saw the other man watching him.
Somewhere in there he began singing quietly, not noticing he was doing it until he heard Jim's soft chuckle.
And maybe, I'll find out the way to make it back someday
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days
He was halfway through before he realized he was thinking about Jim. "Runaway with my heart, runaway with my hope, runaway with my love."
The entire last verse he sang barely above a whisper but no one noticed, they were all laughing and grinning and drinking.
Struming the last few chords, Bones looked up and over at Jim, looking back at him, giving him that smile and a whispered "thanks," then turned away, attention taken by the girl at his side, her arms sliding around Jim's waist.
That's when it all hit him at once. Jim. It wasn't just that he was worried about him, it wasn't that he thought the kid was amazing and interesting and made him laugh. It wasn't that they watched over each other - friends did that and this, this was more than that. Bones loved him. Loved him.
That revelation hit him like a ton of bricks, not noticing when he slipped off the guitar and handed it to one of the girls who sat on the floor and began picking out a tune of her own. He was in love with his best friend. Fuck.
He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, drinking most of it in one swallow. He loved Jim, who, judging from the smile on his face as his hand slid down the waist of the girl next to him, wasn't thinking about Bones at all.
There was a balcony where he could get some fresh air, but that didn't clear his thoughts. There was almost a feeling of horror inside. What a fucking cliche - older guy falling for his younger, attractive friend who made him feel young again; doctor falling for his patient; divorced guy on the rebound... but Bones knew in his heart none of those things were right. They'd been friends for almost three years now and if it had been a simple crush Bones would have pushed away those lingering feelings of longing and desire that popped up in the middle of the night, or when Jim was stumbling out of the shower, wearing a towel.
This was more - this was wanting Jim to be happy, happy on the worst day of the year for him, even if... Bones watched as Jim left the party with the blonde girl - even if that meant being with someone else. Or in Jim's case, a lot of someone elses.
Good thing Jim had no idea, Bones told himself, finishing his drink. If the kid had any idea that his best friend wanted him, fuck, he sighed, hitting his head against the wall, needed him - Jim would run the other direction as fast as he could. He'd be hurt and angry and wonder when Bones would hurt him, like everyone else who had ever loved him had hurt him.
Bones loved Jim... and this was something that Jim could never know.
The little redhead was still looking at him. Fuck it, he told himself, heading toward her, watching her smile as he looked at her, allowing her to lead him out of the apartment.
Being with Jim wasn't anything he'd ever have to worry about.
Jim's first birthday at the Academy, Bones missed entirely. Hadn't even been proper roommates yet, he had no idea how Jim spent the day.
The second year, once they'd fallen into an easy pattern, Jim had disappeared the entire day, Bones not knowing until two days later that it had been his roommate's birthday until Jim let something slip unconsciously about being twenty-four now. Of course, McCoy thought bitterly to himself. The Kelvin anniversary - how could he have been so blind when Jim came home busted up and drunk and sad. Only days later he realized then that it had been Jim's birthday.
Bones wasn't going to let that happen again.
"Wake up," he told Jim the morning he turned twenty-five. Jim threw a pillow at him in response.
"Asshole," Bones muttered, too much affection in his voice to be properly grumbly. "Get dressed," Bones continued, tossing some jeans on that prone body.
"Morning class was canceled," Jim answered from his bed, his voice thick with sleep as he rolled over. "Gonna sleep in."
"Nope," Bones told him, walking over to their small kitchen area and pouring himself some water. "I called in sick to the clinic."
Jim cracked an eye at that, sitting up in his bed, looking shocked - Bones never took a day off, even going to classes and work when he didn't feel well. Playing hooky - totally out of character for him, and Bones knew this would get Jim's attention. "Bullshit," he said, hair sticking up in all directions.
"Nope," he replied. "You wanna come with me, get dressed," Bones added, tossing a shirt on Jim as well.
Jim looked at him for a long time before taking a deep breath. Swinging his legs off the bed, he sat up, rubbing his face and making his way to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later, looking clean and awake. "Okay, where we going?" he asked suspiciously.
"Out." Bones stood, grabbing his jacket and headed out the door, looking back to make sure Jim was following. "And you're driving."
First stop was the little diner that they sometimes hit on the weekends, home of the best pancakes Bones had ever had. "Okay Bones," Jim said around a mouth full of food, "what's going on?"
Leonard finished his coffee, signaled the waitress for some more. "Been here for a while and I suddenly realized I've never seen some of the sights here. Thought we'd play tourist today."
"Seriously?" Jim asked, his own glass in midair. "You took a day off to do that?" He snickered. "And how long you been in San Francisco?"
Bones glared at Jim, then paid the check. "Ready?" he gruffed, heading out the door and waited for Jim by his bike. After that they headed toward the bay, Bones pointing Jim in the direction of the ferry heading out to a small island in the middle of the water. They took the walking tour of Alcatraz, listening to the audio recording of the history of the old prison and the criminals who'd been kept there. Jim was looking around the entire time, eyes darting as if looking for possible escape routes, not believing that he couldn't break out of this place.
A late lunch at Fisherman's Wharf, after which Jim tossed food to the group of sea lions that lived there. Then they headed down Lombard St, still one of the crookedest streets in the world, Bones closing his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around Jim as they took it with more speed that strictly necessary, and ended up at Golden Gate park, where they found a big shady tree, both of them closing their eyes for a bit, lounging in the late afternoon sun.
"One more stop," Bones said to Jim as the sun began going down. "Paul's place."
Paul's place was an apartment in the Heights. Jim's xenolinguistics study partner had filled the room with several people that Jim knew - friends, guys he knew from classes, girls Jim was fond of ... together Paul and Bones had called them, told them they had some good news and were celebrating. No one said the word 'birthday', though Bones suspected a few of them put two and two together.
A couple hours and several beers later, McCoy was starting to feel his age, despite (or perhaps because of) being hit on by a cute little redhead when he heard someone strumming a guitar, a few people sitting on the floor listening. Whoever it was playing had a nice voice, and he sang a song that was popular at the moment.
Jim came around from the corner he'd been standing in, beer in one hand and blonde in the other, eyes bright as he listened to the song. "Lemme see that," he said, light in his eyes as he was handed the guitar, draping the strap around his shoulder and setting his fingers in the correct place. He strummed a chord, then another, and began picking out a melody to a familiar song. Walking as he played, grinning that farm boy smile, Bones surprised to hear how good Jim was at that. Jim had told him once that he could play, but Bones had never actually heard him.
So lost in thought, Bones hadn't realized that Jim was standing in front of him. "Your turn," he told him, pulling the guitar strap off his shoulder and handing it to Bones, who raised an eyebrow at him. "You can play - remember, you told me, you played back when you were a kid?"
He shook his head. "Naw, you don't want to hear-"
"C'mon, Bones," Jim interrupted him. "It's my birthday," he said softly, as if it were a secret between them. Jim's eyes were... fuck, Bones didn't know how to describe the look, something between grateful and surprised, like the kid couldn't believe people wanted to spend time with him, wanted to be with him. "Sing me a song."
Bones picked up the guitar. It had been years... before his divorce, at least. Fingers strummed, then found their place - the last song he remembered playing with regularity. The one he would sing to Joanna, when she couldn't sleep.
He began to play, his fingers remembered better than he thought they would, and though he couldn't remember all the words, he hummed softly to himself, giving Jim a little smile when he saw the other man watching him.
Somewhere in there he began singing quietly, not noticing he was doing it until he heard Jim's soft chuckle.
And maybe, I'll find out the way to make it back someday
To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days
He was halfway through before he realized he was thinking about Jim. "Runaway with my heart, runaway with my hope, runaway with my love."
The entire last verse he sang barely above a whisper but no one noticed, they were all laughing and grinning and drinking.
Struming the last few chords, Bones looked up and over at Jim, looking back at him, giving him that smile and a whispered "thanks," then turned away, attention taken by the girl at his side, her arms sliding around Jim's waist.
That's when it all hit him at once. Jim. It wasn't just that he was worried about him, it wasn't that he thought the kid was amazing and interesting and made him laugh. It wasn't that they watched over each other - friends did that and this, this was more than that. Bones loved him. Loved him.
That revelation hit him like a ton of bricks, not noticing when he slipped off the guitar and handed it to one of the girls who sat on the floor and began picking out a tune of her own. He was in love with his best friend. Fuck.
He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, drinking most of it in one swallow. He loved Jim, who, judging from the smile on his face as his hand slid down the waist of the girl next to him, wasn't thinking about Bones at all.
There was a balcony where he could get some fresh air, but that didn't clear his thoughts. There was almost a feeling of horror inside. What a fucking cliche - older guy falling for his younger, attractive friend who made him feel young again; doctor falling for his patient; divorced guy on the rebound... but Bones knew in his heart none of those things were right. They'd been friends for almost three years now and if it had been a simple crush Bones would have pushed away those lingering feelings of longing and desire that popped up in the middle of the night, or when Jim was stumbling out of the shower, wearing a towel.
This was more - this was wanting Jim to be happy, happy on the worst day of the year for him, even if... Bones watched as Jim left the party with the blonde girl - even if that meant being with someone else. Or in Jim's case, a lot of someone elses.
Good thing Jim had no idea, Bones told himself, finishing his drink. If the kid had any idea that his best friend wanted him, fuck, he sighed, hitting his head against the wall, needed him - Jim would run the other direction as fast as he could. He'd be hurt and angry and wonder when Bones would hurt him, like everyone else who had ever loved him had hurt him.
Bones loved Jim... and this was something that Jim could never know.
The little redhead was still looking at him. Fuck it, he told himself, heading toward her, watching her smile as he looked at her, allowing her to lead him out of the apartment.
Being with Jim wasn't anything he'd ever have to worry about.