Fic: Star Trek: Vintage Filth (black and white and hot as sin)
Title: Vintage Filth (black and white and hot as sin)
Characters: Jim/Bones
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,537
Summary: McCoy finds a black-and-white photograph of Jim. He wants an explanation.
Notes: My brain fried when avictoriangirl posted this picture of Chris Pine the other day, and then I just sat down and wrote. And it's not as hot as it should be for the epic hotness in the picture, and it's quick & rough but I'm trying to be good and NOT CARE and just POST IT ALREADY, but I kinda think it's rubbish and it's only here because avictoriangirl told me to post it. And somebody else should totally write a filthy, smoking hot fic to go with the pic.
‘What the hell is this?’
Jim looks up from his dilithium crystal efficiency calculations: Bones is holding a piece of paper between thumb and forefinger like it's dangerous. He opens and closes his mouth several times without saying a word.
‘Must be amazing if it leaves you speechless,’ Jim says, and turns back to the books spread out over the floor. But when Bones continues to simply stare, Jim's curiosity snaps to life. He peers up over the top of his glasses and a second later a strangled sound escapes from the back of Bones' throat.
It's guttural, almost feral, and it does all kinds of things to Jim. The bottom of his stomach drops out, for one, and he finds himself up on his feet in an instant.
‘Ohhh,’ he says.
‘Oh? Is that all you can say?’
Jim laughs. ‘Amazing, just like I said.’ He leans over Bones' shoulder to take the paper. It's an old-fashioned photograph - a good and proper vintage shot, in black and white and printed on glossy paper. It's of Jim.
‘Where did you find this?’ he says, and they're each holding one side of the photo. ‘I lost it a while back.’
‘Dammit, Jim!’
‘What?’
‘It was inside my book!’
‘Really?’ Jim tugs the photo away to examine it. There's one scuffed corner and a thumbprint that could be McCoy's but otherwise it's in pretty good condition. In the photograph, Jim's standing head-on to the camera, wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Pretty simple really but, well, Jim Kirk doesn't have a reputation for nothing. He knows how to work it. Simple and sexy, and just this side of suggestive. The jeans are tight, his thumbs dug firmly in his pockets with his hands splayed and casually framing his crotch. His hair is carefully dishevelled, there's a scruffy layer of stubble across his jaw, and the sleeves of his jacket are pushed up to expose skin all along his forearms.
He looks hot. The style's as vintage as the technology but it's classic and it suits him. He's got the nearly-there smirk and heavy eyes down just right: like he knows exactly what's on your mind. Like he'd do anything you asked.
‘Yeah,’ says McCoy, calmer now. ‘The book I just checked out of the library this afternoon.’
Jim lifts his gaze from studying himself. ‘Oh. That's odd. What's the book?’
When Bones holds it up, a dirty grin spreads across Jim's face and his eyes light up.
‘I don't want to know,’ McCoy says, and flings the book aside.
‘There was this nurse-’
‘No!’
‘I was helping her study and -’
‘I don't need to know, kid. Keep your sexual adventures to yourself - and out of public access resources. Anyone could have found it.’
Jim turns so his backside rests against Bones' desk and crosses his hands over his chest. ‘So? It's just a photo.’
‘It's indecent.’
‘I'm fully clothed.’ He dangles it in front of Bones' face as evidence; McCoy scowls and jerks his head back. He's avoiding meeting Jim's eyes, and it just makes Jim grin all the more.
‘I don't care. You can't look at that and tell me it's meant as anything other than filth.’
‘Bones, I'm wounded!’
‘Like hell you are. Get out of my space, kid, I've got a paper to write.’
‘I can help.’
‘Like you helped that nurse? I don't think so.’ Bones picks up his stylus and PADD, flicking through articles like that's enough to send Jim away.
‘Seriously. I know lots about -’ Jim drops his eyes to the title of the discarded book - ‘human-specific intergalactic endoparasites. Eww. Bones, that's disgusting.’
‘When you get an Asskan lung-flea eating through the walls of your bronchioles, you'll be damn glad I studied this course. Now, go away.’
‘Nope. Not until you admit it.’
McCoy sighs. ‘What? That you're an infernal pain in the ass?’
Jim drops the photo over Bones' PADD and watches, amused, as Bones' eyes follow it. ‘That I'm hot.’
‘You're an infant.’ Delicately, Bones pushes the print to the far edge of his desk, away from Jim.
‘Keeping it for later?’
‘Yeah: to burn,’ Bones says, opening up a fresh article and beginning to highlight specific parts.
‘You are tragically undervaluing my hotness,’ Jim continues, bumping his shoulder against Bones. ‘My epic hotness.’
‘And you are undervaluing my patience.’
‘Okay,’ says Jim, shrugging, and he leans right across Bones to grab the print, smirking the fully-fledged version of his smile in the photo. He settles back with his butt against the edge of the desk, looking at his own image.
Bones looks at him out of the corner of his eye. ‘Okay?’
‘Sure. Do your work.’
‘And you're just going to stand there?’
‘I'm just going to stand here. Don't worry, I won't interrupt you.’
‘Right.’
And Jim stands there, to all intents and purposes scrutinising his own photograph. Bones stares at him, then shakes his head and starts working again. Well, tries to start working. Jim's fully aware that Bones keeps sneaking little glances at him, brow furrowed and lips pinched together.
Jim just waits. Twists the angle of the photo a little, tilts it in the light. Doesn't look at Bones.
‘Where,’ says Bones, three minutes later, as he tosses aside his stylus, ‘did you even get that?’
Jim beams at him. ‘It's good, right? It's part of a shoot I did, back in our first summer. A favour for Anna Stack - do you remember her? The hot third-year with the legs like stilts studying cultural history. She was doing a dissertation on the history and impact of media and I offered-’
‘I should have guessed.’
‘Don't look disapproving. I never did get her into bed.’
‘Good for her,’ Bones says.
‘And good for you.’
Bones scowls at him. ‘How do you figure that one?’
‘Now you get to reap the rewards of her work,’ Jim says, and slips the photograph back into Bones' hands.
There should have been a grumbling comeback to that but Bones gets caught in the eyes of black-and-white Jim. He's entranced, mesmerised, openly staring.
‘Yeah,’ he says eventually, a little huff of speech. ‘Well.’
Jim laughs and leans down to press a quick kiss to Bones' cheek. ‘Amazing, remember?’
‘Infant,’ Bones corrects, but he looks up from the photo with eyes drawn dark and heavy.
‘Uh-huh,’ says Jim, creating an empty space in the middle of Bones' desk. He lifts his leg up and over Bones' lap and scoots across the desk until he's in front of Bones.
‘Jim, I have work to do...’
‘Time for a break.’
‘We have exams in two weeks.’
‘And you've been working constantly for the last month. You deserve a break, Bones.’ He presses a light kiss to Bones' mouth, just enough to be sweet and promising.
‘I deserve peace and quiet.’ Despite his grumbling, he's slanting in towards Jim already, wanting to chase that kiss.
‘What good did peace and quiet ever do you?’ Jim leans in - but this time his kiss falls to the corner of Bones' mouth and he makes a trail outwards along Bones' jaw. And there - there's that half-strangled sound from the back of Bones' throat again. Jim smiles into Bones' skin.
‘A lot more good than you did,’ Bones rumbles.
‘Is that what you think?’ says Jim, and his lips move swiftly back to Bones' mouth.
Bones makes a little sound of protest and then gives in, pressing back with sudden eagerness, all hard lips and firm tongue. Jim takes hold of Bones' hair and thinks, much better than studying. Bones has both his hands on Jim's knees and the photo's getting crushed between fingers and thigh, so Jim pulls back.
‘Let's not ruin this,’ he says, a little breathlessly, and slips it out of Bones' grasp. He smooths it briefly on his leg, then twists and pins it to the noticeboard above Bones' desk.
‘Vain, much?’
‘I can sign it for you if you want,’ Jim says and hooks one foot around the leg of Bones' chair.
‘I don't want that filth on my wall.’
‘Charming.’ Jim yanks him closer and Bones braces himself against Jim's thighs, fingers pinching into skin. Jim gasps a little and is dragged back down to Bones' lips.
‘You know,’ he says, when Bones pauses in plundering his mouth. ‘I think I still have that leather jacket.’ Bones quirks an interested eyebrow at him, so Jim racks his mind and: ‘It's probably at the bottom of my closet. I stopped wearing it because I spilt something sticky over the sleeve - no, not that - one of Galia's vile cocktail mixes, I think - but a quick trip to the dry-cleaners and it'll be as good as new.’
‘Don't bother,’ Bones growls, and drags his mouth along Jim's stubbly jaw. ‘It'd just end up on the floor.’
Jim laughs and leans back to expose his neck. His head hits the noticeboard and, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the smoking hot photo. Bones' hands move higher up his thighs.
Yeaaah, damn worth it. He'll sign it later.
-------
.
Characters: Jim/Bones
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,537
Summary: McCoy finds a black-and-white photograph of Jim. He wants an explanation.
Notes: My brain fried when avictoriangirl posted this picture of Chris Pine the other day, and then I just sat down and wrote. And it's not as hot as it should be for the epic hotness in the picture, and it's quick & rough but I'm trying to be good and NOT CARE and just POST IT ALREADY, but I kinda think it's rubbish and it's only here because avictoriangirl told me to post it. And somebody else should totally write a filthy, smoking hot fic to go with the pic.
‘What the hell is this?’
Jim looks up from his dilithium crystal efficiency calculations: Bones is holding a piece of paper between thumb and forefinger like it's dangerous. He opens and closes his mouth several times without saying a word.
‘Must be amazing if it leaves you speechless,’ Jim says, and turns back to the books spread out over the floor. But when Bones continues to simply stare, Jim's curiosity snaps to life. He peers up over the top of his glasses and a second later a strangled sound escapes from the back of Bones' throat.
It's guttural, almost feral, and it does all kinds of things to Jim. The bottom of his stomach drops out, for one, and he finds himself up on his feet in an instant.
‘Ohhh,’ he says.
‘Oh? Is that all you can say?’
Jim laughs. ‘Amazing, just like I said.’ He leans over Bones' shoulder to take the paper. It's an old-fashioned photograph - a good and proper vintage shot, in black and white and printed on glossy paper. It's of Jim.
‘Where did you find this?’ he says, and they're each holding one side of the photo. ‘I lost it a while back.’
‘Dammit, Jim!’
‘What?’
‘It was inside my book!’
‘Really?’ Jim tugs the photo away to examine it. There's one scuffed corner and a thumbprint that could be McCoy's but otherwise it's in pretty good condition. In the photograph, Jim's standing head-on to the camera, wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Pretty simple really but, well, Jim Kirk doesn't have a reputation for nothing. He knows how to work it. Simple and sexy, and just this side of suggestive. The jeans are tight, his thumbs dug firmly in his pockets with his hands splayed and casually framing his crotch. His hair is carefully dishevelled, there's a scruffy layer of stubble across his jaw, and the sleeves of his jacket are pushed up to expose skin all along his forearms.
He looks hot. The style's as vintage as the technology but it's classic and it suits him. He's got the nearly-there smirk and heavy eyes down just right: like he knows exactly what's on your mind. Like he'd do anything you asked.
‘Yeah,’ says McCoy, calmer now. ‘The book I just checked out of the library this afternoon.’
Jim lifts his gaze from studying himself. ‘Oh. That's odd. What's the book?’
When Bones holds it up, a dirty grin spreads across Jim's face and his eyes light up.
‘I don't want to know,’ McCoy says, and flings the book aside.
‘There was this nurse-’
‘No!’
‘I was helping her study and -’
‘I don't need to know, kid. Keep your sexual adventures to yourself - and out of public access resources. Anyone could have found it.’
Jim turns so his backside rests against Bones' desk and crosses his hands over his chest. ‘So? It's just a photo.’
‘It's indecent.’
‘I'm fully clothed.’ He dangles it in front of Bones' face as evidence; McCoy scowls and jerks his head back. He's avoiding meeting Jim's eyes, and it just makes Jim grin all the more.
‘I don't care. You can't look at that and tell me it's meant as anything other than filth.’
‘Bones, I'm wounded!’
‘Like hell you are. Get out of my space, kid, I've got a paper to write.’
‘I can help.’
‘Like you helped that nurse? I don't think so.’ Bones picks up his stylus and PADD, flicking through articles like that's enough to send Jim away.
‘Seriously. I know lots about -’ Jim drops his eyes to the title of the discarded book - ‘human-specific intergalactic endoparasites. Eww. Bones, that's disgusting.’
‘When you get an Asskan lung-flea eating through the walls of your bronchioles, you'll be damn glad I studied this course. Now, go away.’
‘Nope. Not until you admit it.’
McCoy sighs. ‘What? That you're an infernal pain in the ass?’
Jim drops the photo over Bones' PADD and watches, amused, as Bones' eyes follow it. ‘That I'm hot.’
‘You're an infant.’ Delicately, Bones pushes the print to the far edge of his desk, away from Jim.
‘Keeping it for later?’
‘Yeah: to burn,’ Bones says, opening up a fresh article and beginning to highlight specific parts.
‘You are tragically undervaluing my hotness,’ Jim continues, bumping his shoulder against Bones. ‘My epic hotness.’
‘And you are undervaluing my patience.’
‘Okay,’ says Jim, shrugging, and he leans right across Bones to grab the print, smirking the fully-fledged version of his smile in the photo. He settles back with his butt against the edge of the desk, looking at his own image.
Bones looks at him out of the corner of his eye. ‘Okay?’
‘Sure. Do your work.’
‘And you're just going to stand there?’
‘I'm just going to stand here. Don't worry, I won't interrupt you.’
‘Right.’
And Jim stands there, to all intents and purposes scrutinising his own photograph. Bones stares at him, then shakes his head and starts working again. Well, tries to start working. Jim's fully aware that Bones keeps sneaking little glances at him, brow furrowed and lips pinched together.
Jim just waits. Twists the angle of the photo a little, tilts it in the light. Doesn't look at Bones.
‘Where,’ says Bones, three minutes later, as he tosses aside his stylus, ‘did you even get that?’
Jim beams at him. ‘It's good, right? It's part of a shoot I did, back in our first summer. A favour for Anna Stack - do you remember her? The hot third-year with the legs like stilts studying cultural history. She was doing a dissertation on the history and impact of media and I offered-’
‘I should have guessed.’
‘Don't look disapproving. I never did get her into bed.’
‘Good for her,’ Bones says.
‘And good for you.’
Bones scowls at him. ‘How do you figure that one?’
‘Now you get to reap the rewards of her work,’ Jim says, and slips the photograph back into Bones' hands.
There should have been a grumbling comeback to that but Bones gets caught in the eyes of black-and-white Jim. He's entranced, mesmerised, openly staring.
‘Yeah,’ he says eventually, a little huff of speech. ‘Well.’
Jim laughs and leans down to press a quick kiss to Bones' cheek. ‘Amazing, remember?’
‘Infant,’ Bones corrects, but he looks up from the photo with eyes drawn dark and heavy.
‘Uh-huh,’ says Jim, creating an empty space in the middle of Bones' desk. He lifts his leg up and over Bones' lap and scoots across the desk until he's in front of Bones.
‘Jim, I have work to do...’
‘Time for a break.’
‘We have exams in two weeks.’
‘And you've been working constantly for the last month. You deserve a break, Bones.’ He presses a light kiss to Bones' mouth, just enough to be sweet and promising.
‘I deserve peace and quiet.’ Despite his grumbling, he's slanting in towards Jim already, wanting to chase that kiss.
‘What good did peace and quiet ever do you?’ Jim leans in - but this time his kiss falls to the corner of Bones' mouth and he makes a trail outwards along Bones' jaw. And there - there's that half-strangled sound from the back of Bones' throat again. Jim smiles into Bones' skin.
‘A lot more good than you did,’ Bones rumbles.
‘Is that what you think?’ says Jim, and his lips move swiftly back to Bones' mouth.
Bones makes a little sound of protest and then gives in, pressing back with sudden eagerness, all hard lips and firm tongue. Jim takes hold of Bones' hair and thinks, much better than studying. Bones has both his hands on Jim's knees and the photo's getting crushed between fingers and thigh, so Jim pulls back.
‘Let's not ruin this,’ he says, a little breathlessly, and slips it out of Bones' grasp. He smooths it briefly on his leg, then twists and pins it to the noticeboard above Bones' desk.
‘Vain, much?’
‘I can sign it for you if you want,’ Jim says and hooks one foot around the leg of Bones' chair.
‘I don't want that filth on my wall.’
‘Charming.’ Jim yanks him closer and Bones braces himself against Jim's thighs, fingers pinching into skin. Jim gasps a little and is dragged back down to Bones' lips.
‘You know,’ he says, when Bones pauses in plundering his mouth. ‘I think I still have that leather jacket.’ Bones quirks an interested eyebrow at him, so Jim racks his mind and: ‘It's probably at the bottom of my closet. I stopped wearing it because I spilt something sticky over the sleeve - no, not that - one of Galia's vile cocktail mixes, I think - but a quick trip to the dry-cleaners and it'll be as good as new.’
‘Don't bother,’ Bones growls, and drags his mouth along Jim's stubbly jaw. ‘It'd just end up on the floor.’
Jim laughs and leans back to expose his neck. His head hits the noticeboard and, out of the corner of his eye, he can see the smoking hot photo. Bones' hands move higher up his thighs.
Yeaaah, damn worth it. He'll sign it later.
-------
.