In the middle of something [Jim/Bones]
"One… two… three… four…"
The gym had been crowded after his shift today, every machine in use and the courts filled with crew counting off into teams, indulging in a little sport in their free time. Jim had chatted interestedly with several people, some of them a little shy when they’d approached but once they’d found him curious and friendly, they’d opened up, sharing a little about themselves. He enjoyed talking with them, putting faces with names. He’d joined in a game of basketball, playing hard and loving the chance to just relax and have fun with some of his crew.
"Five… six… seven… eight…"
By the time he’d arrived back in his room (after promises to play again, same time next week) Jim was hot and sweaty but still filled with restless energy. Shucking his shirt off, he dropped to the floor, running through some stretches before starting a set of push-ups, concentrating on keeping his form correct. Body straight, hands level with his shoulders, Jim counted them off. He found a rhythm before long, his movements steady and sure as he rose and fell, the sound of his breath growing louder as the numbers climbed.
"Nine… ten… eleven… twelve…"
As was his habit, his mind wandered while he was working out, working through the problems or puzzles he’d encountered during the day, things he’d set aside to look at fresh in the morning, or made a note to confer with Spock. And lately there was the question of Spock and Nyota. What they all were to each other, and whether they could make it work.
"Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen… sixteen…"
And he thought about Bones a lot during these times, too… most of the time, if he was honest. It still amazed him at times, how easy and right everything felt between them, when they’d both tried so long to ignore their feelings, so sure the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way. But they’d made it work so far, Jim mused, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the quiet whoosh of the door opening.
The gym had been crowded after his shift today, every machine in use and the courts filled with crew counting off into teams, indulging in a little sport in their free time. Jim had chatted interestedly with several people, some of them a little shy when they’d approached but once they’d found him curious and friendly, they’d opened up, sharing a little about themselves. He enjoyed talking with them, putting faces with names. He’d joined in a game of basketball, playing hard and loving the chance to just relax and have fun with some of his crew.
"Five… six… seven… eight…"
By the time he’d arrived back in his room (after promises to play again, same time next week) Jim was hot and sweaty but still filled with restless energy. Shucking his shirt off, he dropped to the floor, running through some stretches before starting a set of push-ups, concentrating on keeping his form correct. Body straight, hands level with his shoulders, Jim counted them off. He found a rhythm before long, his movements steady and sure as he rose and fell, the sound of his breath growing louder as the numbers climbed.
"Nine… ten… eleven… twelve…"
As was his habit, his mind wandered while he was working out, working through the problems or puzzles he’d encountered during the day, things he’d set aside to look at fresh in the morning, or made a note to confer with Spock. And lately there was the question of Spock and Nyota. What they all were to each other, and whether they could make it work.
"Thirteen… fourteen… fifteen… sixteen…"
And he thought about Bones a lot during these times, too… most of the time, if he was honest. It still amazed him at times, how easy and right everything felt between them, when they’d both tried so long to ignore their feelings, so sure the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way. But they’d made it work so far, Jim mused, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the quiet whoosh of the door opening.