Title:When we were young (6.ii/7)
Author: K_E_Wilson
Rating: R (overall- see warnings)
Word Count: ~3k words this time!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a few humble dreams and an appetite for angst. (Icon is product of the awesome mind of:
Girlpire)
Warnings: Alas, more tight moments with the boys, touchy-feel-y times, a few well-meant barbs, and a lot of angst
Summary: He doesn't feel normal, and that's pretty okay-- maybe.
A/N: I am a terrible, horrible person for making you all wait as long as I have for this; you must understand that I realize how screwed up that wait was. I'm one of those people who would want to kill someone for waiting this long to update a story I'm reading, so I'll have to go slap myself many times for this. But you see my pretties, I've been an angst-machine over how to handle this part of the story since I took on the prompt. As it stands, this portion of Chapter 6 has undergone revamps to end all revamps, and my mind-Crew is all thoroughly ready for the final installment; however we all must thank you profusely for allowing the time it's taken for this chapter. I only hope it's up to the standards I hope you've all come to expect from me. This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful
ceres_libera who's amazing work on her epic tale "Switch" has spurred not only the hearts and minds of fans everywhere, but has allowed us all to dream about what it is really like to have Fannon become cannon. Ceres, you are a hero to us all and I can only hope that this humble chapter can tickle a small smile from you. Also, this is dedicated to every single one of you who left me comments pleading for the next chapter; I hope nobody's literally waited with breath held for this, or I might never be able to publish the last chapter as I'll have to turn myself in for involuntary manslaughter. /sobsob I am not worthy....
Previous Chapters:
CHAPTER 1,
CHAPTER 2,
CHAPTER 3,
CHAPTER 4,
CHAPTER 5, CHAPTER 6.i "It's been a really long time, Bones..."
He's bracing for Bones' eruption of 'not good enough's or the strong, silent stare that often breaks Jim so easily; he's so ready for it that he almost misses it when the doctor leans away from him, a breath ghosting out from between his lips and a baleful smile stretching his lips. Instead of what he's expecting- what he knows Bones deserves to say- the other man only says, "Okay, Jim."
And Jim's left to sit passively by as Bones slowly draws some blood, scans it quietly in the corner for more allergy signals. It's not the perfect solution to diagnosing every existing allergy, and Jim tries not to get his hopes up- tries not to think that Bones wants to stay around and figure out and solve Jim's allergies as they come up.
An hour passes, and Jim watches as Bones makes a couple notes in his charts- tells him he's allergic to the Andorian Pox vaccination and the G34-Echelon strain. He almost watches as his friend (if that's what McCoy is, now) walks out the door before he's suddenly calling out to him.
Bones turns, and he's almost got the eyebrow in his hair again. "Yes, Jim?" That's good, Sam reasons, they're still Jim, not 'Kirk' anymore.
"That's it?"
Jim can tell Bones knows what he's talking about; but with that molasses-slow smile, Bones only shakes his head. "No need to stress your body any more than necessary, Jim. We can deal with the rest later."
For one infuriating moment, Jim thinks Bones is trying to completely ignore the fact that their friendship has been dealt the biggest blow yet, and then he catches the double meaning. Bones doesn't want to cause him to loose control again. He feels his face break out in a nervous smile, distantly feels his hand come up to run through his hair. "Besides," Bones continues hesitantly, "I'm still technically on-shift until twenty-one hundred."
This time, he's able to watch Bones leave. His heart aches a little bit, worry pulling at him and Sam is right fucking there, ready to take over and help. He pushes gently against that warm comfort, though. For the first time in a while, he wants to deal with the fallout and emotions on his own. He can feel the tingle of hurtworryshockhurt from Sam, and that's something different all it's own as he calms himself.
It takes three minutes before he can leave the room, and Bones is nowhere to be seen as he steps out, trademark grin back in place and eyes flitting playfully at the nurse who's carrying a stack of PADDs past. She fumbles for a moment; almost drops a few of them when his attention is focused on her, and he holds back an insanely misplaced laugh as he turns to walk out of the building, heading for his dorm.
-
In the following days, things somehow go back to normal between Jim and Bones. He finds himself waiting on the edge of his seat most of the time, though. Jamie is completely intent on the idea that Bones is only trying to lull them into a false sense of security before springing on them and beginning the assault- weather this 'assault' is supposed to be metaphorical or actual is left at large, and Sam isn't helping to try and figure it out. Jimmy, for his part, is still proud as a fucking peacock; preening any time they get Bones to crack a smile.
Friday night, Jim finds himself sprawled in Bones' dorm on the half collapsed couch with the stinging burn of cheap replicated rum in his mouth. It's so wonderfully, achingly familiar that he wants to scream. But instead, he stays where he is; gaze wandering morosely between the dim ring of excess alcohol in the bottom of his glass and Bones, who is sprawled absently across his bed. The doctor's own glass is balanced on his stomach- Jim tries to ignore the cloying direction Jamie is trying to take their thoughts with visions of those well-controlled muscles doing other things- PADDs lie about him across the bed; he's studying for his final Xenolinguistics Practical Exam of the term. Both of them, though, are stripped down to their civilian clothing. Ripped blue jeans and stained tee shirts with no shoes seems to be the order of the day, and the cool San Francisco night that leaks in through the window sinks to settle them both.
It's eerily quiet, and that makes this quelled sense of ease even worse. Bones has still not brought Jimmy up; hasn't said anything about Jim's break in the exam room. He hasn't called Jim 'Jimmy' though there was once where he almost stumbled into it at lunch on Thursday. But the man looks so completely at ease, sprawled on the bed; and all Jim can think about is the last time he'd woken up in this room, and the painful reaction to the sedative and his insides are crawling. Sam and Jamie and Jimmy are all clamoring to try and make something happen, because the suspense is fucking killing all of them, which makes it a lot like what he imagines a World War IV would be like.
In the end, it's a little of all of them that slips out.
"Bones, When in the hell are you going to ask me? or flip out? or talk about it?" And, yes, he realizes he sounds just like a whining kid just now, but god damn it he can only take so much. Beyond that; if questioned later, the only witness would be himself and Bones, who would probably only sell him out AFTER telling him to fuck off and die, so it's all good.
All the hubbub about tone could have easily been abandoned, though, for all the reaction it gets out of McCoy. The man in question simply shrugs, not even lifting his eyes from the PADD before him as he jots down a quick note. "I'm not." He says it simply, letting the words and the calm tone of his voice and body language to consume the silence.
Jim is suddenly fighting back against the others, all of them wanting to have their say first, right now. And for once, he wants to agree with them, let Jamie take over and start a brawl, or let Sam suppress them all with warm food and good sleep; maybe even let Jimmy take them all out of it and feel the exhilaration from Bones simply saying his name. But he forces himself to stand, instead.
His feet carry him, and he's standing above Bones, who's watching him placidly, that damn eyebrow quirked up to his hair as something flashes in the deep hazel of his eyes. Jim forces his mind to quiet, grips his thoughts, and picks something to say; "Now that you know about-" He tries not to acknowledge the small hesitation in his own voice, "-them, things are different. You can't say they aren't."
Bones sighs, and Jim distantly feels a little part of Jamie break through; feels his limbs stiffen, ready for fight or flight. But the doctor only shifts the mess of study materials on the bed, completely silent but for that first sigh. Soon, the PADDS lie in a neat stack, which he deposits easily on the basic desk beside them. It's only then Jim realizes the other man isn't going to lash out, and he feels his fingers twitch, as though trying to relax- but Jamie is still there, worrying and waiting at the forefront of their mind.
Bones pats the bed, and Jim stares at him, uncomprehending. The doctor sighs again, and his body shifts, leaving a more open expanse on the bed before his hand repeats the motion. "Have a seat, Jim."
He flounders for a moment, not knowing how to react to this. But Bones is sitting, patiently on the bed, waiting for his companion to join him. So Jim lowers himself to sit beside the older man, and he can't help himself- he fidgets, fingers skittering over a rip in his jeans, nervously picking at threads. Bones remains silent, simply watching him for a long while.
Laughter floats in through the open window, a bell-like, feminine sound that triggers a similar laugh before they die away. The sound of people in the hall beats a quick thrum behind the silence for a few moments before it, too dies out.
Bones is waiting him out- Jim knew it- can feel it- but the question remains as to what the other man is waiting for. The others are still struggling, fighting with one another and with him to come out. Sam seems desperate, almost a clawing force, and yet he is overwhelmed by Jimmy's eager presence, flooded with warmth at the nearness to the one man who knew they existed. Jamie, however, has been growing impatient.
It's quite sudden, and Jim doesn't really know when he's moved or how. But there it is, and Bones is pressed against the mattress while Jim's body twists to half-cover his torso. The other man's large, quick hands are easily captured at the wrists, pinned beside his head. Jim can feel the other man's pulse beating faster under the pads of his fingers, wound tightly around the flesh. If it wasn't for that fast pulse, and the suddenly controlled position they found themselves in, Jim could have sworn Bones was merely waiting for Jim to continue a simple conversation.
Jamie his mind provides, and he knows it's probably not just his mind, but Sam trying to give him their bearings back. He tries to draw back, but the second his fingers relax, something shifts in the man beneath his hands.
Bones' face, until then placid and accepting, turns sour in a way Jim's only seen a few times, and it makes him balk slightly. A low rumble lights the air and Jim realizes that his friend is actually growling at him. Shocked, he lets his grip remain, wide blue eyes locked on hazel. "I'm so- I don't-" His voice sounds weak, distant, and he tries to shut himself up.
Bones cuts him off, though, before he can continue to make an ass out of himself. "It's about goddamn time you cracked, Jim."
He's disoriented by that, can't think of anything to say, and in his distraction, Jamie finally breaks through. It's the first time he can remember knowing both himself and Jamie simultaneously- if he didn't know any better, he'd have suspected it was really Sam who'd broken through. But Sam's calm, steady beat is still in the rear of his thoughts, and Jamie is a drumbeat in his temples.
He watches as though at a distance as he leans down to glower directly into Bones' eyes, a mirrored snarl escaping his tense body. "Who are you to make us worry about what you think of us?"
It's strangely disorienting, his thoughts and Jamie's mixing in a frenzy of hell and damnation and hopeful waiting. He feels dizzy from it, and he's not really sure what the hell this really is, because he's never known what Jamie's doing when he's out.
Bones, though, isn't part of this internal confusion, and he's still focused on Ji-Jami- THEIR question. Without making any move to part their bodies, Bones glowers up at 'them' from his position beneath. "I'm your goddamn best friend, James Tiberius Kirk."
It feels strange, having this semi-semblance of control while Jamie is there, but Jim slowly lowers his head, feels his forehead meet Bones' with a warm familiarity. He closes his eyes- doesn't want to see Bones' reaction to this as he mutters back, "I know."
A warm hand at the back of his neck makes him realize that his grip on Bones' wrists has gone slack; he's leaning on his elbows, shoulders drawn back at oddly sharp angles as the doctor's fingers thread into the short hairs at his nape. The hand is palming in small, hot circles across the skin beneath; tender friction giving them shivers and somehow silencing the chaos of thoughts further. It takes a moment to realize that this is the most silent his mind has been since he was very small, but just as that does finally sink in there's a small noise in that silence.
Bones has them flipped; has Jim cradled beneath him and is seemingly everywhere at once- he's murmuring something into Jim's temple, and the hands that had been pseudo-trapped and comforting before are framing his face, holding him still when all he wants to do is turn away. It's a long moment of confusion before Jim realizes that his face is warm; that there's cold trails leading away from his eyes as he listens to Jimmy's voice in the back of his mind echoing a song that's all warm cornfields and stargazing and memories of happy celebrations. He's crying; he can feel the pressure in his eyes prickling dangerously beneath the surface, can feel his hands pawing at Bones' shoulders, as though he's making sure the other man isn't going anywhere.
It's that thought that triggers understanding; he can hear what Bones is muttering to him. It makes Jamie recede placidly, makes Jimmy's song just a little happier. It makes him feel so relieved that all he can do is cling to his best friend and sob openly into the older man's shoulder.
Because nobody has ever told him "I promise, I'll never leave you behind."