Fic: The Kiss (STXI, AU, Kirk/McCoy, PG)
Title: The Kiss
Author:
sail_aweigh/sail_aweigh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 2984
Warnings: Highlight for warnings major character death
Summary: Jim wants to touch Bones, just once. Is that too much to ask?
Disclaimer: Writing this for fun, not for profit.
Author's notes: Written for jim_and_bones Halloween Costume Challenge. Prompted by this picture on tumblr:
Jim throws his books on top of the rumpled sheets of his bed, blanket hanging askew from one corner, pyjamas stuffed under his pillow in an untidy heap. He knows he is lucky that housemaster Pike hadn't done a walk through of the residence hall that morning as usual; he would have deservedly earned demerits. Demerits he can't afford if he wants to make his rendezvous this afternoon.
"What are you in such a blazing hurry for?" asks Scotty as he looks up from the book he is pouring over. Jim can't see the title, but he can see the equations scrawled over every page. Probably spherical trigonometrics. Jim had just thrown the same book on his bed.
His answer is muffled as he rummages through the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. "Meeting Bones. If I don't get out there in the next ten minutes, I won't get to see him until tomorrow."
Scotty scoffs. "I don't believe in your 'Bones'. He's not a student here, I've asked around. What is he, a townie?"
Jim pulls a sweater out of the drawer and loops the arms around his neck carelessly. The temperature is getting cooler in the afternoons now; he'll need it by the time he leaves Bones. "No, he's from Georgia. A med student."
"Bollocks. The Riverside Academy doesn't offer any medical classes." Scotty points a finger at Jim, wagging it back and forth. "Your 'Bones' may as well be a ruddy ghost for all we see of him on campus."
As Jim heads out the door, he barely registers Scotty's protest. It doesn't matter anyway; all he can think about is hoping that he will get to touch Bones this time.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
The path under Jim's feet is damp, releasing an earthy smell of recent rainfall and composting vegetation. A few leaves are showing a hint of gold and red at their tips; summer is dying and autumn is just around the corner. The changing seasons are one of the things that make this his favorite running path; today, it is but a means to an end.
Jim sees that end and breaks into a run, then skids on slippery leaves as he comes to an unsteady halt in front of his friend. He can't help the huge smile that breaks across his face, despite the wide-eyed look on Bones' face as he steps backward a number of paces. Jim steadies himself and clasps his hands tightly behind his back.
"Bones! So good to see you here, my man." Jim scans Bones face, noting the slight color in his cheeks and the sturdy set to his shoulders. He desperately hopes that means he can touch the other man without causing any damage. His fingers flex against each other, fighting the urge.
"As if you'd see me anywhere else, you chowderhead." Bones scowls at him over crossed arms. "And next time, don't run. You'll break something, tripping all over your own feet."
"This has become our spot, hasn't it?" Jim's question is rhetorical; this spot on the path is the first and, since then, the only place they ever meet. He gets the eye roll he expects out of the comment. Baiting Bones with the obvious is one of his favorite games.
Jim inches closer to Bones and ducks his head down. Shyness isn't usually a problem for him, but what he wants this time means more to him than even the class ring given to him by his father. Except for him, it has only been worn by a dead man. He twists it, thinking that if all goes well today, perhaps he'll be able to give it to Bones. A pledge of sorts. Finally releasing his clasped hands, he reaches one out toward Bones.
"May I?" The words fall softly from his lips, at odds with his boisterous greeting earlier and his entire demeanor as most of his friends would know it.
The hoped for affirmation doesn't come. Jim sees the regret on Bones' face as he looks down at his feet, the shake of his head an unneeded reinforcement of the rules.
"Can we walk for a while?" Jim asks, holding back the profanities dammed behind his teeth. He clenches his jaw, willing back the tears trying to force their way up and out. He should be used to the status quo, but as every day goes by it hurts more.
Bones' face softens into a smile. "Yes, but not far; I'm not ready for much."
"Not asking you to run a marathon, old man," Jim teases. The joking pulls him back from the brink of tears. He gets to spend time with Bones; that's almost as good as touching. "How about to the broken oak?"
Bones puts his hand to his mouth as he considers the distance and the consequences. Jim knows right away from the gesture that the answer will be no, unless he can trick Bones into thinking the idea was his from the beginning.
"No, nevermind, Bones. Let's just walk. You can tell me about the latest letter from Jocelyn," he offers. This will make Bones happy and, maybe, keep him walking farther than he planned as he relates the contents to Jim. Happiness gives Bones strength. Jim wishes with all his heart he could make Bones happier than the last letter from Jocelyn.
With his hands clasped once again behind his back, Jim steps up next to Bones and they set off at a moderate pace along the path. Jim nods his head along with Bones' words, familiar with all things Jocelyn and the small town of Dalton, Georgia. Despite its familiarity, Jim never gets tired of listening to Bones talk. As they walk, he keeps his hands and his wishes to himself. Jim's never been known for his patience, but for now, he's playing the long game.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
Jim throws his books down on his bed, followed quickly by his entire body. He wants to hit something, unleash his anger on anything but himself. It's his fault he won't be able to visit with Bones today and it's all he's been able think about throughout the day. They'd had two more weeks of getting closer without any slip-ups, until his stupidity yesterday.
"You're looking mighty glum, today. Not going out to chat up your phantom boyfriend?" Scotty asks, looking up from the shoe he's wearing on one hand, a polishing cloth in the other.
Jim shoves his face into his pillow; maybe he can smother himself. "Not my boyfriend," he grumbles.
There's a short pause before Scotty speaks again. "It's alright by me, if he is, Jim. I won't tell anyone. I reckon that's why you're seeing someone from out-of-town. Word won't get out."
Rolling over onto his back, Jim tucks his hands behind his head and considers his words.
"It wouldn't matter if I wanted him for a boyfriend or not; he's bespoke." Jim kicks at the foot of his bed. "Her name is Jocelyn."
Scotty looks down at the shoe he's currently rubbing polish into. "That's too bad, mate. Does your Bones know that you're interested in him?"
The sympathy in Scotty's voice makes Jim angry. Not at Scotty, but at himself. His impatience with the situation, with Jocelyn, had led to his impulsive actions of yesterday. Bones wanted to talk about Jocelyn's last letter again. After what felt like years of hearing the same things out of Bones mouth, something in Jim snapped. He'd reached for Bones shoulder to stop him walking, to force him to face him and knew right away that he'd messed up.
Even now, his hands can feel Bones crumpling under his touch, hear the anguished cry from his mouth and see the reproach on Bones' face as he retreated down the path, around the bend and out of Jim's sight. So much for the long game.
Jim turns on his side to watch Scotty. The small circular movements over the leather are hypnotic. Scotty is known for his spit-shines. Other students often pay him to do their shoes for the biweekly inspection. Maybe, Jim thinks, if he stares long enough, he can hypnotize himself into forgetting Bones.
"He knows," Jim answers. "We had an agreement; I overstepped myself."
Scotty dropped the shoe. "Bleedin' Hell, Kirk! You didn't try to force yourself on him, did you?"
"No!" Jim shouts at him. "It's not what you're thinking. I misspoke."
The shoe gets picked up and pointed at Jim. "This can be used to recalibrate your thinking, if you get my drift."
Pushing himself upright, Jim sits on the edge of the bed with his shoulders slumped. "Bones is...delicate. An illness the doctors call brittle bones. Even the smallest touches can be painful, damaging. I forgot myself and touched him yesterday. He won't be able to come outside again for a while."
Scotty's mouth opens and he squints at Jim with one eye before he squeaks out, "You nicknamed him Bones?"
Jim shrugs. "A bit of gallows humor. Bones grumbles about it, but he laughs, too. He looks so happy when he laughs." He falls backward with a flump. "I hate my life."
"Buck up. You make it sound like forever." Scotty picks up the polishing rag and goes back to the rhythmic pattern that Jim had interrupted.
"Might as well be," Jim sighs out. He has homework; for once, he'll be able to get it done before lights out.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
Jim waits nervously at their appointed place, straining to see around the bend obscured by the colorful autumn leaves. He doesn't take time to marvel at the blaze of color provided by maple and linden trees, the setting sun burnishing every leaf into polished copper and gold. His hands are clasped in their customary position behind his back as he bounces on his toes. Jim is early, he knows, but he's afraid to walk down the path in the opposite direction from what he's used to. One of Bones' boundary issues. There is Jim's space, there is their space and then there is Bones' space.
Tired of waiting, but unwilling and practically unable, at this point, to leave, he decides that if he tries to watch for Bones' arrival, just like a watched pot won't boil, Bones will never get there. So, Jim turns away from the bend in the path; Bones must come now. It's been three days since Jim's seen him; he has to be there, he just has to. There is such little time remaining.
"Hey, kid. Glad you could make it." The voice in his ear is gruff, but welcoming. Jim spins around, giddy with delight and maybe a little from the force of his spin. He's so glad to see Bones, but even in his single-minded desire to get as close as he can to the other man, he has the presence of mind to hold the ends of his scarf down before they can flare out and into Bones' space. He doesn't want to break the spell again.
"Bones." The relief in Jim's voice is blatant and he watches as Bones tips his head down to hide the quirk of his mouth, but it doesn't disguise the resulting crinkles by his eyes. Such obvious pleasure in his company makes Jim's heart beat a little bit faster. This was definitely going to be the day. He's been waiting months for this. So many months that they feel like they've become years.
"Let's walk, Jim. We'll go check out that favorite tree of yours." Bones throws an arm out to point the way with a sweeping bow.
"So gallant. Is this what all the boys from Georgia are like?" Jim is beyond happy, he is ecstatic. Everything he could wish for is coming true tonight. He wouldn't let thoughts of tomorrow bring him down, lay him low. Tonight is all that matters. This time, this space, this man.
"Can't speak for other boys, but if they had my mama, then yes." Bones is walking fast, surprisingly fast. The three days of rest has done him good; Jim wants to skip with joy. His Bones is back.
"Would it be forward of me to ask to hold your delicate little hand in mine?" Jim's words are bold, but his tone is tentative. He is rewarded when Bones wraps his hand around Jim's. The touch is delicate, but it's solid. Jim lets out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"I've missed you so much," Jim whispers.
Bones gives him a look of exasperation. "It's only been three days, infant."
Jim nods, no words making it past the lump in his throat. Three days that had felt like forever with uncertainty.
Bones gives a small tug on his hand, urging him to move. Neither speaks as they head for the tree. The silence isn't uncomfortable, though. Jim is grateful that, for once, Bones doesn't want to talk about Jocelyn. This is his day, at last, and he wants to wallow in every second they have together.
They walk at a steady pace along the path, hand in hand. Jim can see the split tree ahead. There is anticipation and dread fighting for dominance in his stomach. Three days, three months, three years; the time telescopes into infinity, but he just wants it to be today.
Much sooner than he wants, though, the broken tree is in front of them. The main trunk stands tall and sturdy, the branches beckoning in the soft breeze as the lowering sun casts a pink glow against the few clouds on the horizon. It's something out of a fairy tale; a magical scene made for romance. Jim's hand is starting to sweat against Bones. With reluctance, he pulls his hand free from Bones'.
Taking a deep breath, Jim pushes himself up on the broken split trunk feeling the grooves of carved initials under his palm as he hikes himself into position; he doesn't have to look at them to know whose they are. Once settled, he looks down at Bones. This is it, his one chance.
"Someone put itching powder in your underdrawers, kid? You've been twitching like a snake shedding its skin." Bones leans forward, he plants his hands on Jim's thighs. The firm touch settles Jim. He smiles down at Bones.
"I'm good, now, Bones. In fact, I'm fantastic." Jim's still nervous about one thing, though, and he moves unconsciously to twiddle the ring on his little finger.
Bones looks up at him, the setting sun flooding his face, lighting it up in a way Jim rarely sees. He's so achingly beautiful at this moment, Jim wishes he could freeze this point in time, forever.
Instead, he looks down at his hands and pulls the ring off his finger. He sees that Bones is following his movements, his eyes widening as Jim holds the ring in front of him.
"Give me your hand, Bones." Jim's voice is soft, but commanding. He is finally in the driver's seat; Bones is fully in his space, his to do with as he would. Bones' world is gone, there's no Jocelyn here, just him and Bones.
Bones pulls back, hesitation on his face; it might even be fear. Jim doesn't care as he reaches down and picks up Bones' left hand. "It's the autumnal equinox. Remember?" he asks as he slides the ring on Bones little finger.
Tears well in Bones eyes. "I remember," he says. With a hitch in his breath, he reaches both hands up to cup Jim's face. "I remember we kissed here, we said we'd never be separated, I said I loved you and you said you'd love me until all you had left were my bones."
The kiss is messy, tears from both of them dampening cheeks and chins. It doesn't stop them from tasting each other, lips, tongues, teeth. Oh so sweet under the layer of salt tracks on each of them. Over and over again they kiss. Frantic. Making the most out of the little time left against the setting of the sun.
Jim gives one last gasp against Bones mouth as the touch of his lips fade away with the breeze and darkness descends first among the trees, then the riverbank and finally the horizon. He hears the muffled ping as the ring that Bones had been wearing falls into the rocks and debris below the tree. Sliding down off the split trunk, Jim staggers back to his residence hall in the dark. Time for lights out, lights out.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
The next morning Jim walks down the path, his gaze sliding past where he usually met Bones. His steps slow to a halt at the split trunk tree. Bending over, he brushes his hands through the leaves at the base of the tree, searching amongst the broad roots. A glint of gold shines up at him between rusty brown and black debris.
He picks the ring up and holds it in his trembling palm. Every year for the past three years he's played his part. He doesn't know how much longer the cycle will continue. Bones forgets more and more each year. There will come a day when there is truly nothing left for Jim but his bones. Bones that reside in the red Georgia dirt of his family home under a tombstone engraved with a caduceus and the name Leonard McCoy. He's not sure if that day will be a blessing or a curse. So far, any day where Bones remembers him is the happiest day of Jim Kirk's life. He has no idea what he would do without his Bones.
Sliding the ring back on his little finger, he whispers to the wind through the leaves, "I'll see you in the springtime, Bones. You promised."
Author:
sail_aweigh/sail_aweigh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 2984
Warnings: Highlight for warnings major character death
Summary: Jim wants to touch Bones, just once. Is that too much to ask?
Disclaimer: Writing this for fun, not for profit.
Author's notes: Written for jim_and_bones Halloween Costume Challenge. Prompted by this picture on tumblr:
Jim throws his books on top of the rumpled sheets of his bed, blanket hanging askew from one corner, pyjamas stuffed under his pillow in an untidy heap. He knows he is lucky that housemaster Pike hadn't done a walk through of the residence hall that morning as usual; he would have deservedly earned demerits. Demerits he can't afford if he wants to make his rendezvous this afternoon.
"What are you in such a blazing hurry for?" asks Scotty as he looks up from the book he is pouring over. Jim can't see the title, but he can see the equations scrawled over every page. Probably spherical trigonometrics. Jim had just thrown the same book on his bed.
His answer is muffled as he rummages through the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. "Meeting Bones. If I don't get out there in the next ten minutes, I won't get to see him until tomorrow."
Scotty scoffs. "I don't believe in your 'Bones'. He's not a student here, I've asked around. What is he, a townie?"
Jim pulls a sweater out of the drawer and loops the arms around his neck carelessly. The temperature is getting cooler in the afternoons now; he'll need it by the time he leaves Bones. "No, he's from Georgia. A med student."
"Bollocks. The Riverside Academy doesn't offer any medical classes." Scotty points a finger at Jim, wagging it back and forth. "Your 'Bones' may as well be a ruddy ghost for all we see of him on campus."
As Jim heads out the door, he barely registers Scotty's protest. It doesn't matter anyway; all he can think about is hoping that he will get to touch Bones this time.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
The path under Jim's feet is damp, releasing an earthy smell of recent rainfall and composting vegetation. A few leaves are showing a hint of gold and red at their tips; summer is dying and autumn is just around the corner. The changing seasons are one of the things that make this his favorite running path; today, it is but a means to an end.
Jim sees that end and breaks into a run, then skids on slippery leaves as he comes to an unsteady halt in front of his friend. He can't help the huge smile that breaks across his face, despite the wide-eyed look on Bones' face as he steps backward a number of paces. Jim steadies himself and clasps his hands tightly behind his back.
"Bones! So good to see you here, my man." Jim scans Bones face, noting the slight color in his cheeks and the sturdy set to his shoulders. He desperately hopes that means he can touch the other man without causing any damage. His fingers flex against each other, fighting the urge.
"As if you'd see me anywhere else, you chowderhead." Bones scowls at him over crossed arms. "And next time, don't run. You'll break something, tripping all over your own feet."
"This has become our spot, hasn't it?" Jim's question is rhetorical; this spot on the path is the first and, since then, the only place they ever meet. He gets the eye roll he expects out of the comment. Baiting Bones with the obvious is one of his favorite games.
Jim inches closer to Bones and ducks his head down. Shyness isn't usually a problem for him, but what he wants this time means more to him than even the class ring given to him by his father. Except for him, it has only been worn by a dead man. He twists it, thinking that if all goes well today, perhaps he'll be able to give it to Bones. A pledge of sorts. Finally releasing his clasped hands, he reaches one out toward Bones.
"May I?" The words fall softly from his lips, at odds with his boisterous greeting earlier and his entire demeanor as most of his friends would know it.
The hoped for affirmation doesn't come. Jim sees the regret on Bones' face as he looks down at his feet, the shake of his head an unneeded reinforcement of the rules.
"Can we walk for a while?" Jim asks, holding back the profanities dammed behind his teeth. He clenches his jaw, willing back the tears trying to force their way up and out. He should be used to the status quo, but as every day goes by it hurts more.
Bones' face softens into a smile. "Yes, but not far; I'm not ready for much."
"Not asking you to run a marathon, old man," Jim teases. The joking pulls him back from the brink of tears. He gets to spend time with Bones; that's almost as good as touching. "How about to the broken oak?"
Bones puts his hand to his mouth as he considers the distance and the consequences. Jim knows right away from the gesture that the answer will be no, unless he can trick Bones into thinking the idea was his from the beginning.
"No, nevermind, Bones. Let's just walk. You can tell me about the latest letter from Jocelyn," he offers. This will make Bones happy and, maybe, keep him walking farther than he planned as he relates the contents to Jim. Happiness gives Bones strength. Jim wishes with all his heart he could make Bones happier than the last letter from Jocelyn.
With his hands clasped once again behind his back, Jim steps up next to Bones and they set off at a moderate pace along the path. Jim nods his head along with Bones' words, familiar with all things Jocelyn and the small town of Dalton, Georgia. Despite its familiarity, Jim never gets tired of listening to Bones talk. As they walk, he keeps his hands and his wishes to himself. Jim's never been known for his patience, but for now, he's playing the long game.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
Jim throws his books down on his bed, followed quickly by his entire body. He wants to hit something, unleash his anger on anything but himself. It's his fault he won't be able to visit with Bones today and it's all he's been able think about throughout the day. They'd had two more weeks of getting closer without any slip-ups, until his stupidity yesterday.
"You're looking mighty glum, today. Not going out to chat up your phantom boyfriend?" Scotty asks, looking up from the shoe he's wearing on one hand, a polishing cloth in the other.
Jim shoves his face into his pillow; maybe he can smother himself. "Not my boyfriend," he grumbles.
There's a short pause before Scotty speaks again. "It's alright by me, if he is, Jim. I won't tell anyone. I reckon that's why you're seeing someone from out-of-town. Word won't get out."
Rolling over onto his back, Jim tucks his hands behind his head and considers his words.
"It wouldn't matter if I wanted him for a boyfriend or not; he's bespoke." Jim kicks at the foot of his bed. "Her name is Jocelyn."
Scotty looks down at the shoe he's currently rubbing polish into. "That's too bad, mate. Does your Bones know that you're interested in him?"
The sympathy in Scotty's voice makes Jim angry. Not at Scotty, but at himself. His impatience with the situation, with Jocelyn, had led to his impulsive actions of yesterday. Bones wanted to talk about Jocelyn's last letter again. After what felt like years of hearing the same things out of Bones mouth, something in Jim snapped. He'd reached for Bones shoulder to stop him walking, to force him to face him and knew right away that he'd messed up.
Even now, his hands can feel Bones crumpling under his touch, hear the anguished cry from his mouth and see the reproach on Bones' face as he retreated down the path, around the bend and out of Jim's sight. So much for the long game.
Jim turns on his side to watch Scotty. The small circular movements over the leather are hypnotic. Scotty is known for his spit-shines. Other students often pay him to do their shoes for the biweekly inspection. Maybe, Jim thinks, if he stares long enough, he can hypnotize himself into forgetting Bones.
"He knows," Jim answers. "We had an agreement; I overstepped myself."
Scotty dropped the shoe. "Bleedin' Hell, Kirk! You didn't try to force yourself on him, did you?"
"No!" Jim shouts at him. "It's not what you're thinking. I misspoke."
The shoe gets picked up and pointed at Jim. "This can be used to recalibrate your thinking, if you get my drift."
Pushing himself upright, Jim sits on the edge of the bed with his shoulders slumped. "Bones is...delicate. An illness the doctors call brittle bones. Even the smallest touches can be painful, damaging. I forgot myself and touched him yesterday. He won't be able to come outside again for a while."
Scotty's mouth opens and he squints at Jim with one eye before he squeaks out, "You nicknamed him Bones?"
Jim shrugs. "A bit of gallows humor. Bones grumbles about it, but he laughs, too. He looks so happy when he laughs." He falls backward with a flump. "I hate my life."
"Buck up. You make it sound like forever." Scotty picks up the polishing rag and goes back to the rhythmic pattern that Jim had interrupted.
"Might as well be," Jim sighs out. He has homework; for once, he'll be able to get it done before lights out.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
Jim waits nervously at their appointed place, straining to see around the bend obscured by the colorful autumn leaves. He doesn't take time to marvel at the blaze of color provided by maple and linden trees, the setting sun burnishing every leaf into polished copper and gold. His hands are clasped in their customary position behind his back as he bounces on his toes. Jim is early, he knows, but he's afraid to walk down the path in the opposite direction from what he's used to. One of Bones' boundary issues. There is Jim's space, there is their space and then there is Bones' space.
Tired of waiting, but unwilling and practically unable, at this point, to leave, he decides that if he tries to watch for Bones' arrival, just like a watched pot won't boil, Bones will never get there. So, Jim turns away from the bend in the path; Bones must come now. It's been three days since Jim's seen him; he has to be there, he just has to. There is such little time remaining.
"Hey, kid. Glad you could make it." The voice in his ear is gruff, but welcoming. Jim spins around, giddy with delight and maybe a little from the force of his spin. He's so glad to see Bones, but even in his single-minded desire to get as close as he can to the other man, he has the presence of mind to hold the ends of his scarf down before they can flare out and into Bones' space. He doesn't want to break the spell again.
"Bones." The relief in Jim's voice is blatant and he watches as Bones tips his head down to hide the quirk of his mouth, but it doesn't disguise the resulting crinkles by his eyes. Such obvious pleasure in his company makes Jim's heart beat a little bit faster. This was definitely going to be the day. He's been waiting months for this. So many months that they feel like they've become years.
"Let's walk, Jim. We'll go check out that favorite tree of yours." Bones throws an arm out to point the way with a sweeping bow.
"So gallant. Is this what all the boys from Georgia are like?" Jim is beyond happy, he is ecstatic. Everything he could wish for is coming true tonight. He wouldn't let thoughts of tomorrow bring him down, lay him low. Tonight is all that matters. This time, this space, this man.
"Can't speak for other boys, but if they had my mama, then yes." Bones is walking fast, surprisingly fast. The three days of rest has done him good; Jim wants to skip with joy. His Bones is back.
"Would it be forward of me to ask to hold your delicate little hand in mine?" Jim's words are bold, but his tone is tentative. He is rewarded when Bones wraps his hand around Jim's. The touch is delicate, but it's solid. Jim lets out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"I've missed you so much," Jim whispers.
Bones gives him a look of exasperation. "It's only been three days, infant."
Jim nods, no words making it past the lump in his throat. Three days that had felt like forever with uncertainty.
Bones gives a small tug on his hand, urging him to move. Neither speaks as they head for the tree. The silence isn't uncomfortable, though. Jim is grateful that, for once, Bones doesn't want to talk about Jocelyn. This is his day, at last, and he wants to wallow in every second they have together.
They walk at a steady pace along the path, hand in hand. Jim can see the split tree ahead. There is anticipation and dread fighting for dominance in his stomach. Three days, three months, three years; the time telescopes into infinity, but he just wants it to be today.
Much sooner than he wants, though, the broken tree is in front of them. The main trunk stands tall and sturdy, the branches beckoning in the soft breeze as the lowering sun casts a pink glow against the few clouds on the horizon. It's something out of a fairy tale; a magical scene made for romance. Jim's hand is starting to sweat against Bones. With reluctance, he pulls his hand free from Bones'.
Taking a deep breath, Jim pushes himself up on the broken split trunk feeling the grooves of carved initials under his palm as he hikes himself into position; he doesn't have to look at them to know whose they are. Once settled, he looks down at Bones. This is it, his one chance.
"Someone put itching powder in your underdrawers, kid? You've been twitching like a snake shedding its skin." Bones leans forward, he plants his hands on Jim's thighs. The firm touch settles Jim. He smiles down at Bones.
"I'm good, now, Bones. In fact, I'm fantastic." Jim's still nervous about one thing, though, and he moves unconsciously to twiddle the ring on his little finger.
Bones looks up at him, the setting sun flooding his face, lighting it up in a way Jim rarely sees. He's so achingly beautiful at this moment, Jim wishes he could freeze this point in time, forever.
Instead, he looks down at his hands and pulls the ring off his finger. He sees that Bones is following his movements, his eyes widening as Jim holds the ring in front of him.
"Give me your hand, Bones." Jim's voice is soft, but commanding. He is finally in the driver's seat; Bones is fully in his space, his to do with as he would. Bones' world is gone, there's no Jocelyn here, just him and Bones.
Bones pulls back, hesitation on his face; it might even be fear. Jim doesn't care as he reaches down and picks up Bones' left hand. "It's the autumnal equinox. Remember?" he asks as he slides the ring on Bones little finger.
Tears well in Bones eyes. "I remember," he says. With a hitch in his breath, he reaches both hands up to cup Jim's face. "I remember we kissed here, we said we'd never be separated, I said I loved you and you said you'd love me until all you had left were my bones."
The kiss is messy, tears from both of them dampening cheeks and chins. It doesn't stop them from tasting each other, lips, tongues, teeth. Oh so sweet under the layer of salt tracks on each of them. Over and over again they kiss. Frantic. Making the most out of the little time left against the setting of the sun.
Jim gives one last gasp against Bones mouth as the touch of his lips fade away with the breeze and darkness descends first among the trees, then the riverbank and finally the horizon. He hears the muffled ping as the ring that Bones had been wearing falls into the rocks and debris below the tree. Sliding down off the split trunk, Jim staggers back to his residence hall in the dark. Time for lights out, lights out.
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo
The next morning Jim walks down the path, his gaze sliding past where he usually met Bones. His steps slow to a halt at the split trunk tree. Bending over, he brushes his hands through the leaves at the base of the tree, searching amongst the broad roots. A glint of gold shines up at him between rusty brown and black debris.
He picks the ring up and holds it in his trembling palm. Every year for the past three years he's played his part. He doesn't know how much longer the cycle will continue. Bones forgets more and more each year. There will come a day when there is truly nothing left for Jim but his bones. Bones that reside in the red Georgia dirt of his family home under a tombstone engraved with a caduceus and the name Leonard McCoy. He's not sure if that day will be a blessing or a curse. So far, any day where Bones remembers him is the happiest day of Jim Kirk's life. He has no idea what he would do without his Bones.
Sliding the ring back on his little finger, he whispers to the wind through the leaves, "I'll see you in the springtime, Bones. You promised."