FIC: Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! part 2/5
title: Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! part2/5
N.B. All thanks and notes etc, including links to the soundtrack mix as well as the movie poster are to found in the Zing! Masterlist!
by norfolkdumpling
back to part 1
Zing Went the Strings of my Heart
Part 2/5
In his bunk space, Jim kicks off his heels groaning when his poor feet practically hiss like balloons. He rubs his arches. Fuck, he’s going to have to get some pain relief from somewhere.
“Anyone got booze?” he calls through the curtain, wondering if he dare remove his wig because his scalp’s crawling and his neck’s sweaty and he just wants to be a guy again for a few minutes and relax.
“One thing Miss Uhura won’t tolerate is booze and boys!” six female voices sing-song in unison followed by a peal of giggles which goes right to his cock. Jim sighs and stretches out in the bunk, his feet pressing against the cool wall at the far end; damn he loves girls and boys equally - though, recalling Leonard’s gorgeous tan face, those expressive eyes and that voice he might swear off women once and for all - and all other men, come to think of it. Jim reaches under his skirt and slides his hand into his panties while replaying the image of Leonard (Len? Leo? - the name does not suit him) okay, Leonard, walking. He’s interrupted five seconds in by his privacy curtain opening a crack and Hikaru’s upside down head appearing from the bunk above him.
“Are you jerking off, Jemima?”
Jim pulls his hand away and rolls away from the smirk. “Don’t you knock?”
“No door, bro,” Hikaru does some kind of acrobat thing and moments later he’s beside Jim on the bunk. “Want some help with that?” he elbows Jim in the ribs good-naturedly.
Jim folds his arms. “Fuck off, I’m faithful now - this is the new me, no more fuck buddies, no more boys, maybe no more girls - I’m saving myself for my wedding night.”
“Where’s Jim Kirk?” Hikaru feels Jim’s forehead without the back of his hand, “and what have you done with him?” Jim shrugs him off. “Wanna share?”
“What? Talk about my feelings?”
“No, you ass, wanna share the hot cowboy?”
“Fuck. Off.”
“That’s a shame - I’ll just keep him all to myself.” Hikaru couldn’t sound more smug.
“I have a nail file and I’m prepared to use it,” Jim hisses, then he frowns, takes Hikaru’s hand. “I’ve never asked you for anything, Hik, but this - just keep away, okay?”
Hikaru shakes his hand free, wipes it theatrically on his skirt and mimics Jim’s voice, “Never asked me for anything, okay, how about the time, with the twins? Or that time with the Andorian…? Or,” he adds, stroking his chin, ”the time-“
“-I haven’t asked you for anything today, dude, come on!”
“Yeah, because becoming a girl, no way -that counts.”
Whatever cool repost Jim was about to come up with is de-railed by that voice a ways down the aisle; Leonard sounds scared, grumbly yet still so sexy. Jim squints, shifts up on his elbow, so he can hear better.
“McCoy, it is against regulations to conceal yourself in the restroom. Your behavior will jeopardize our passage.” It’s the Vulcan.
“God dammit, you pointy-eared bastard, I have aviophobia, it’s a fear of flying in god damned space and I’m…let go…let go, dammit!”
Jim’s feels a surge of need to help, to save Leonard or some such shit, or at least win scout points; okay, to all intents and purposes it would be a woman Leonard will see come to his assistance, but Jim’ll straighten it out later; for now he’s got to… he pokes Hikaru, who’s dozed off beside him, hard in the ribs and hisses in his ear making his friend jump.
“Where’s your secret stash, Hik?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You always have one. I’m serious. I’m just asking you for one thing.”
“Okay, but please say you won’t use that expression ever again. I was falling asleep, man.” Hikaru fumbles between his breasts and pulls out a tiny flask holding enough Romulan Ale to work the mojo on a mammoth.
Jim drops a kiss to Hikaru’s forehead and clambers over him, ignoring the girly shriek. He drops into the aisle to see Leonard and Spock near the rest room.
“I don’t fucking give a rat’s ass about regulations,” Leonard’s saying and his face is a mix of pink flush with a green tinge which, Jim thinks, doesn’t stop him looking hot in the slightest.
“McCoy,” The Vulcan’s voice is firm and dispassionate.
Jim remembers in the nick of time that he’s a girl, he’s a girl and puts a little wriggle in his hips which isn’t quite so easy now he’s barefoot, and considering he can’t get to Leonard’s side quick enough. He worked in Riverside Pub, back on Earth, enough years to know a little about how to talk an aviophobe down and he’s just got to fucking do something.
Jim adopts what he hopes is a sympathetic rather than a predatory look but, it’s hard, real hard to squash the feeling of wanting to fight Leonard’s corner, of just wrestling the Vulcan to the ground then running off down the aisle with Leonard in his arms until they can hole up in his bunk and Leonard can show Jim just how grateful he is.
“How many years I gotta know you, Spock before you start using my first name, damn you? And will you fucking let go of my arm before I box your Vulcan ears?” Leonard’s eyes flicker towards Jim for a split second but he’s in full rant mode now and doesn’t acknowledge Jim. “Tell me your last name,” Leonard growls, jabbing a finger in Spock’s chest, struggling to free himself, “so I can be as much of a tight ass as you are - seems only, ouch, fair-“
“I doubt you would be able to pronounce it, Leonard.” Now right there, was that a little show of emotion from the Vulcan? Jim’s curiosity is peaked. The two men turn to him when he says, “Good evening, gentlemen, I wondered if I might help-“ Damn, he sounds like a maiden aunt, which is not going to result in Leonard falling in love with him. Jim feels a little swell in his chest at how McCoy’s dark expression softens momentarily at his words even though he knows that’s caused by Leonard’s deep rooted chivalry when in the presence of a woman rather than by cupid; still, Jim’ll take it for now.
“Let the lady past, Spock!”
Spock looks at Jim long and hard, perhaps to remind Jim he’s aware that he’s a fraud, but says nothing, merely loosens his grip and lifts his nose to a regal resting posture, then places his hands behind his back. “There is no need for assistance, madam, we were merely having a discussion.”
“No Spock, you were sayin’ I can’t go to the restroom, that throwing up in my bunk is preferable to doing it in there - in a sanitary way. That your idea of a discussion?” Leonard folds his arms and adds, “Bully.”
He looks Jim full in the eye for support and, lord help him, Jim’s real glad his panties are a size too small because otherwise his skirt would be tenting now, such is the effect those thick, scowly eyebrows are having on him. Yes, Leonard has Jim’s support and he opens his mouth to say as much but it’s like jumping onto a moving train trying to get a word in edgewise now Leonard’s on a roll.
“The hull could break open, we’ll all burn in seconds til we’re dark, iddy pieces of charcoal, then,” Leonard thumbs in Spock’s direction keeping dark eyes fixed on Jim, “Mr. Unpronounceable Surname won’t look so smug.”
“It is against regulations to enter the restroom until we have left orbit,” Spock says stubborn and as immovable as a rock being pounded by waves.
“Well,” Jim says softly and counting on his awesome eyes doing the work for him as they so often do, “but I need to powder my nose, and I wondered if Mr. McCoy wouldn’t mind accompanying me. I get kind of nervous too - maybe we can cancel each others fears out? What do you say, Mr. Spock?” Jim lowers his eyes and cocks his head in what he hopes comes off as modest, though it’s not a pose he’s had much experience of, truth be told.
“It is against regulations for males to…”
“Let it go, Spock, there’s a lady in need here,” and yeah, it totally melts Jim the way McCoy says here-yah, all southern and drawly, to say nothing of the way he ducks his head and holds out an arm for Jim to take it. “I’ll be sure to come back soon as we’re ready for take-off, don’t get your britches in a bunch.”
Spock’s eyes dart to the side for a second as he maybe considers the meaning of the idiom but he does move aside.
“McCoy, I do like your cologne,” Jim says, fluttering his eyelashes as McCoy leads him into the restroom. “What is it? I might want to buy some for my nephew.” It’s just two stalls and two sinks, a hand drier and a tiny sonic shower so that, to Jim’s delight, they’re forced to stand pretty close, space being at a premium in the cargo ship.
“No cologne, darlin’, just good old shampoo,” Leonard drawls; he’s gotta stop touching those deliciously big fingers to that imaginary hat, Jim thinks, or Jim won’t be responsible for his actions - fuck the man smells so good.
Jim swallows and turns to the mirror, looks McCoy’s reflection in the eye. “Actually I lied to you, McCoy-“
“Leonard, “he’s corrected, “How so, ma’am?”
“Leonard, of course, thank you, and you’ll have to call me Jemima. I have a confession to make - I’m not frightened of flying, but I do have something that might help.” Jim reaches into his cleavage and draws out the flask and starts at the way Leonard snatches it from his hands.
“Thank fuck, if you’ll pardon my French,” Leonard’s cheeks flush red, “but between you and me, darin’, I’m real scared of flying.” Well, not exactly between the two of them, given what he’s just witnessed, but Jim lets it slide, fixes his eyes on Leonard’s lush mouth, “Spock knows but he keeps booking these gigs - it’s like he purposefully works out the most un-ergonomic routes just to make me suffer.”
“But you’re in the band, Leonard, Spock can’t very well leave you behind, can he?” Jim says gently, daring to rest his hand on a broad shoulder. “What do you play? The guitar, right?” Jim’s voice is practically a squeak, such is the effect of the heat radiating up his fingers from that moment of contact.
“Sure, but as a matter of fact I sing mostly, Jemima.”
Jim should say something polite in response only he’s mesmerized by the sight of raspberry colored lips, plush and womanly almost, pursing round the slender neck of the flask. Thing is, Leonard’s drinking way too fast so Jim makes himself damn well snap out of it.
“Take it easy with this stuff, it’s got quite a kick.”
“I’m counting on it,” a raised eyebrow temporarily pulls Jim’s gaze from that glorious mouth then he’s forced to suffer the sight of a totally lickable, thick column of neck when Leonard leans back to swallow again. Jim can’t miss the beads of sweat on Leonard’s nose nor how his hand shakes a little when he lowers the flask, the other gripping the sink behind him for balance, but if Leonard doesn’t slow the fuck down, there’ll be cartoon spirals where his pupils should be.
When the ship begins to rumble and the safety announcement cuts in informing passengers to return to their bunks or the seating area, while Jim experiences the rush like always, it’s obvious Leonard isn’t feeling the love; the last of the colour drains from tan cheeks and his eyes flip to wild. He tries to dart past Jim into the stall - “I need to…” he begins, “ I need to get…”
“Yeah, I know, “Jim moves closer still and, rests his hand on a shaking chest hoping this won’t have the effect of making Leonard feel claustrophobic on top of everything else. “I got you, Leonard, just breathe, okay?” Fucking Romulan ale doesn’t work for shit, still…”Maybe have another drink? “
Leonard lifts his head and cracks open an eye, then flinches at the announcement:
Take off in t minus two minutes…
Leonard twists round and doubles over the sink, resting his head in his hands. Part of Jim’s mind, in a dim recess he doesn’t visit so often, has him wondering if he’s being a creep, taking advantage like this, using every opportunity to touch Leonard, but he also can’t deny the genuine concern and need to comfort this man, feelings of desire and protectiveness warring in him when Jim takes in the bowed head and scrunched up eyes; so Jim lifts a tentative hand and slides it under Leonard’s jacket, purely so Leonard knows he’s got someone there, you understand, then he rubs what he hopes are soothing circles across sweat dampened cotton trying to ignore how muscular Leonard is.
“I’m sorry you had to come to the rest room because of me,” Leonard manages to say through gritted teeth. He opens his eyes, still hunched forward, he says, “You know, I feel better…” then when the ship whines around them he jackknifes upright, eyes shooting to the side like he’s listening to some internal rhythm, “I may throw up on you…”
“No you’ll be fine,” Jim’s braver now, trailing a hand across Leonard’s damp brow, sweeping aside a few stray hairs which have stuck to his forehead. Damn, Jim loves this, he admits, how being a girl gives him license to express tenderness towards strangers. Sure he’s held Hikaru’s hair plenty of times, so to speak, and while there was concern for his friend, it didn’t make Jim want to pull Hikaru close and hold him and never let him go. Maybe Jim’s feeling maternal, yeah, that’ll be it - whatever... it’s nice, really nice taking care of someone.
Then Leonard has to go and spoil the moment-
“You remind me of my mom,” Leonard says, pressing his hip into Jim’s thigh for more contact - damn he smells good, all sandalwood and clean sweat breaking through the spicy ale scent from the flask.
Take off in t minus sixty seconds…
And that’s when Leonard throws up… when things were going so well too…
Jim grimaces though his hand doesn’t leave Leonard’s back; he watches Leonard’s mouth gape and spasm, listens to him groan then hands him a paper towel. Once Leonard’s sluiced out his mouth, and rinsed his face, Jim tells the computer to sanitize the sink and freshen the air.
And that’s when Jim gets who Leonard reminds him of - it’s this hot doctor in Jim’s favorite TV show when he was a kid; it was kind of cheesy and camp and the sets rattled a lot but that guy, he might have been Jim’s first crush. Now what was the character’s name…?
Leonard stares into the bowl and frowns, “Fuck, I think I may have puked up stomach lining, bones too.”
Bones! that’s it, that’s what the guy was called. Fuck, Jim hasn’t thought about that show in years; it’s the same southern drawl, the same sexy sneery mouth (though fortunately not the same hairy knuckles) - it’s like Leonard’s a reboot of Bones!
Leonard, no Bones because the name just fits, straightens up, runs a hand through his crazy fucking hair, then takes Jim’s hand and kisses it.
“Thank you, darlin,” Bones says, all sincere and dashing, “mind if I hang onto this?” He nods at the flask resting on the sink unit. Jim nods dumbly, Hikaru won’t mind - it’s a small sacrifice for his friend to make, you know - to ensure Jim’s future happiness.
“You realize we’re on our way now - at warp - it all happened while you were…” Jim indicates the sink. “Looks like you didn’t notice.” He grins, feeling mighty pleased with himself.
“Thanks to you, Jemima,” the way Bones pronounces it, Jim-mi-ma, it gives Jim a little kick of delight to hear his real name uttered, even by ‘mistake’. “I’m always better when we’re on our way, it’s mostly the build up gets me every time. And,” he leans into Jim again, “between you and me, I’m generally a bit of heavy drinking helps some.” He smiles apologetically and shakes the flask, “damned waste of good ale, sorry. Least I’ll be able to make it back to my bunk and pass out, eh?” He suddenly peers at Jim’s face making Jim flush around the neck, his breath’s so close and warm. “You need to fix your face, baby girl, you’re looking a little sooty-” Sooty? Shit, the stubble - Jim turns away.
“Yeah, ship could do with a clean, right? Guess I got something on my hands.” He makes for he door, “And you’re welcome.“
Reluctantly Jim follows a much more cheerful, almost imperceptibly swaying Bones down the narrow aisle towards his bunk. The girls look concerned and flash him warm sympathetic smiles. Jim expects Bones to collapse, instead he pulls out his guitar case stowed underneath the bed. “Come on, ladies, though it surprises the hell out of me, looks like we didn’t all go out in a ball of flame, so I say we celebrate with why we’re here. Music!”
Jim pushes past him gently, flushing a little when he sees Leonard arrange the guitar strap around his big shoulders and wedge a plectrum between his lips as he fiddles with the strings, canting his ear to listen as he tunes up. The girls - Jim’s learning their names, Janice, Christine, another gorgeous, willowy brunette with the nickname Number One - exit their bunks. They all look like cupcakes, he thinks, bows in their hair, Disney princess pjs, and plaid for one or two. He totally neglected to replicate nightwear not thinking further ahead than getting the hell away from Nero.
Hikaru’s sitting on the edge of the bunk, stocking clad feet dangling off the side; his arms are folded and his face is a portrait of sarcasm - seems he doesn’t share the same view of Jemima being a selfless and supportive companion for their hunk of a singer as the rest of the girls.
Damned if he cares- Jim’s pretty sure a halo of hearts is circling his head after twenty minutes in close confines with Bones, but he does have other shit to worry about; Jim stretches up and whispers, “I need beard suppressor, so do you - where we gonna get some?”
“Replicator in the rest room?” Hikaru says casually, smiling down at the girls from his perch, watching them surround Leonard as he plays a few experimental chords.
“I’ve got no fucking credits left, Daphne,” Jim hisses.
“Hey, Jemima, you know anything goes?” Janice calls to him.
“What? Oh, the song, sure - sax intro coming right up…”
Jim flips open his case, puts the strap over his head, then scoots up on the top bunk next to Hikaru, “You’re on drums, lady,” he says, and Hikaru reaches for Jim’s case and begins to rap with his palms. Meanwhile, Number One sets up the backing track and the girls squeeze into the top bunk opposite, their legs moving in unison, painted toes and animal slippers sliding left then right in a makeshift, cutsy can-can, till Jim’s done and they can come in on vocals.
***Anything Goes***
in olden days, a glimpse of stocking
Was considered really quite shocking
And Bones has found a ukulele from somewhere - Jim tries not to be too obvious in his admiration when he rests his sax, drinking in long, tan fingers flying over the strings. He feels a hand slip round his ankle and Christine beams up, “Conga, Jemima?”
Hell yeah, he needs to work off his Bones buzz or he won’t be able to sleep. Jim bounces down, waits for Christine to rest her hands on his hips then sashays up and down the aisle as he plays, leading the girls kicking sideways behind him. He winks at Hikaru as they pass privately thanking some deity that they can’t hear his friend singing because as a man (and most likely as a woman too) Hik’s voice is an outrage.
They all giggle when the song ends and Christine squashes up next to Bones, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Feel better, asshole?”
The corner of a full mouth quirks, “I guess. If we’re going out might as well do it in style, huh?” Damn, the way he’s all bashful through those gorgeous lashes, Jim could just…
“Hey, Len, sing one of yours, go on!” Janice leans over and kisses him on the cheek. Damn, that’s a lot of female attention - Jim isn’t used to this - he’s the one who’s the honey-pot as a general rule but, rather than feel jealousy, he allows his mind to run through several images of how handsome a pair he and Bones would be, the two of them hand in hand…never mind Bones thinks he’s a girl. This totally will be a surmountable problem, he just needs to allow his genius mind to come up with something then they can start looking at the Dwell catalogue together.
Bones thrums his fingers on the board then plays a couple of experimental chords before shyly announcing, “erm, this one, you maybe haven’t heard before - except for Chris here, suffers my singing in the shower most days…” He loosens the speakers from his PADD and attaches them to post, and taps the screen. His cheeks are adorably pink when he mumbles, “I’ve called it ‘Take me Home’…might change it…and Chris did the drum track, she insisted…” he winks endearingly at her and then begins to sing:
***Take me Home***
I'm so sick and tired
of all these things
that drag me down
I've got no where to go
they say that life
is in these hands
you give everything
you give yourself away you give
and still you choke
and find yourself running for the door
Jim watches and listens from a distance gripping the neck of his sax so tight there’s sweat forming on his palms. He can’t fucking tear his eyes away from Bones’ fingers, the side of his head, the way his forehead creases, how his eyebrows are all scrunchy and serious, and he certainly can’t block out the surge of emotion he feels in response to the naked feeling in the delivery.
Janice nudges the girls and whispers some instruction to them so that when Bones finishes up with the last chorus they’re ready for their improvised backing vocals.
so come and take me home
lead me to your door
take me where you are
lead me to your door
and let me in
just let me in
and let me leave
just let me leave this world
come on now let me leave this world
at least just for a while
The girls, sing ‘oo-oo, oo, oo, oo-oo,” while holding hands and swaying with big soppy grins on their faces. Hikaru joins in but Jim can’t move, can barely fucking breathe.
Bones looks up finally, a slightly goofy look on his face and Jim swallows, glances at Hikaru then lays down his sax and claps as enthusiastically as the rest of them.
“Damn, he’s seriously talented,” Jim says to Janice who’s standing closest to him.
“Trouble is, he can only write songs when he’s miserable,” she says, scratching at one of her curlers.
“Miserable?”
“Yeah, he’s written a hella lot of songs in the past six months.”
“Why? What happened?”
“He got divorced - some asshole called Joss. He really broke our boy’s heart, you know.”
Jim wants to find Joss, wants to beat the crap out of him, then immediately shake his hand for making Bones available to him.
Jim notices how Bones is leaning over a little, maybe not all the Romulan ale was expelled via the sink into the black after all, for his guitar’s slipping from his fingers, head lolling. Chris lifts the strap over Leonard’s head and arranges a pillow for him. She’s so top of the list for chief bridesmaid, Jim thinks. Christine removes Bones’ boots and Jim’s heart clenches when he notes how one of Bones’ socks has bunched up round his toe. Janice hoists it up and stretches his long legs out while Chris pulls the blanket over him. Bones has one eye open and the other’s shuddering like he’s trying to stay awake but he’s soon snoring with the curtain drawn.
The girls disappear to their own bunks - it’s pretty late, almost 2am, and with the time difference they’ll be exhausted when they arrive on the far side of Risa at dawn, so Jim makes to turn in, still wishing he had some nightwear. It’s unavoidable but he’s going to feel kind of vulnerable in just his bra and panties; the way he kicks about in the night, he’s likely to end up with the covers round his feet with chest hair and treasure trail exposed and, should anyone pull the curtains back, they’ll get the fright of their lives.
He plumps up his pillow and rubs his chin, and calls quietly to Hikaru who’s already drawn his curtains. “How we gonna get beard suppressor without any credits?”
“Replicators are computers, Jim-mi-mah! Computers are your bitches, go fiddle with it!”
Jim scratches his chin and sighs, okay…
+++
Jim shrugs his shoulder, trying to shake off the strong hand - he was so enjoying his dream, something about Bones dancing naked in just a cowboy hat…
“Fuck off, Hik,” his voice is gruff with sleep and he buries his head under the pillow.
“Hey, darlin’, you’re dreaming…” and Jim must be because he swears he can feel Bones squeezing into the bunk next to him. He drags the sheet over himself and thinks ‘high pitch’ because his voice sounded so fucking wrong just then. He clears his throat, “Hey, Leonard…sorry, I was dreaming about back home.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just we have an emergency-“
“What? Where?” Jim sits up and smacks his head on the bunk above. The answering thump from Hikaru’s fist or foot is immediate.
“Hey, lady!” Hikaru giggles and the mattress above him bounces; Jim turns over to be confronted with, yes the totally dreamy but not dreamed Leonard McCoy. Face partly in shadow in the confined space, for a moment he looks like an old style movie still, until his expression changes to endearingly concerned as Bones stretches out a big hand to touch Jim’s cheek. Jim holds his breath; Bones needs to move, his other hand is way too close to Jim’s demi-boner, and while Jim’s the master of talking himself out of a corner, this one might be a challenge too far. He swallows then he’s distracted from this really, wonderfully intense moment of unresolved sexual tension (just on his side, yeah, but…) by more giggles, all coming from Hik’s bunk.
“Leonard,” Jim says stupidly, his voice a squeak. “What’s the emergency? Something up with the flight?”
A gravelly chuckle makes the impending discovery of what’s now a full boner more likely - damn, no one has a right to be that damned sexy.
“Nope, it’s just…” Bones looks at him sideways, conspiratorial, “do you have a cherry?”
“She lost that years ago!” squeals Hikaru.
“I’m surprised you can hear me above all that giggling, Daphne!” His mind processes what Bones just says. “Cherry? Just one…erm… cherry?”
Leonard’s all dimples, and he leans closer, “between you and me, Jem, one’s too fuckin’ many.” His hand goes to his mouth and he covers it. “Sorry?”
“It’s okay, when you’ve been around guys, musicians, as long as me, you’ve heard it all.” Damn, Bones needs to move; Jim can feel the heat pooling in his balls, he has to move. “So? Cherry? And I thought you’d passed out?”
“Chris has a stash of anti-alcohol. And Number One’s making cocktails. That girl’s good but when she demands cherries, you get cherries - perfectionist.” He shrugs. ”Though between you and me putting anything but a tongue into bourbon’s sacrilege - I’ve tried tellin’ her but…” Another grin and Jim is so fucking lost he feels an overpowering urge to break out of the confines of the small space or he’s not going to be answerable for his actions - those lips look so…and Bones must never, ever utter the word ‘tongue’in his presence again unless they're both naked.
“No cherries here,” Jim croaks. He nods upwards, “we having a party?”
“Damn straight!”
“But I haven’t got a thing to wear! Our bags were stolen.”
“Sure you have.” Jim feels something soft tickle then trail across his throat and he reaches a hand to touch feathers - a boa.
“Perfect! Gimme five while I fix my face and I’ll be right up.”
Bones nods and slides out of the bunk elegantly, his hand pressing on Jim’s stomach for purchase, ”sorry,” he drawls.
“Don’t be,” and none of the breathiness is faked this time.
When the curtain opens, Jim sees a pale leg disappearing upwards as another party-goer crams into Hikaru’s bunk. Bones grins, steps onto Jim’s mattress and hoists himself up, star-print sleep pants and long, sinewy, perfect feet disappearing out of view.
Jim counts to ten, wraps the sheet around himself and scuttles down the aisle towards the rest room only remembering to veer towards the ladies’ at the last second. Good thing he has awesome hacking skills, that replicator is going to deliver again - something pink and girly. But first he slips into the stall - he needs to take care of the very unladylike tenting in the front of his sheet - it’s only polite after all, though it has been helping with the whole high-pitched thing.
+++
Jim thinks he’s never been so happy in his life.
Bones is leaning against the back wall of the bunk and Jim’s managed (with minimal wrestling) to gain pole position so he’s pretty much sitting on Bones’ lap. But then again, so’s Janice, who’s got her legs draped across Hikaru’s legs and partly under Chris where she lies on her belly across Hikaru’s lap, her Disney princess clad ass in the air. Of course, it’s wasted on Hik, who only likes boys, but Jim? He’s on cloud fucking nine, the big puppy pile, the scent of girls, all bubbly and pink and intoxicating mixing in with the clean sweat on Leonard’s throat.
There’s copious amounts of bourbon being circulated, some of it neat, the rest shaken up in experimental mixes with milk, juices, anything the replicator can come up with. And as Bones gets drunker, as Jim follows him drink for drink, Jim gets more and more cocky and rests a hand on Bones’ thigh - least he thinks it’s his thigh; he’d have to move to check and he hasn’t the strength.
Jim rest his cheek against Bones’ stubbly jaw and he closes his eyes, lets out a little doggy sigh of happiness.
“You flirting with me darlin’?” the soft, moist mouth near Jim’s ear, sending a shudder through him, “Because beautiful as you are, I’m a one man guy, you know?” A strong arm wraps around Jim’s neck and he feels his cock stirring again which is a miracle because he is so fucking drunk.
“I know, you big, southern hunk of a thing, but a girl can hope right?” There’s sudden silence around them and Janice, Chris, Number One and Hikaru look at them with big, bleary eyes.
Chris pats Jim’s arm with her foot. “There, there, Jemima, get your heart broken why don’t you? You won’t be the first!” She leans back into Hikaru who’s eyes bug and transmit all kinds of secret words to Jim he doesn’t want to hear over her shoulder. “Hey, ladies, raise your hands if you’re in love with Leonard McCoy!”
They squeal and raise two hands each, Christine’s, to Jim’s satisfaction knocking Hikaru’s nose.
“And, and…” Number One adds, “raise your hand if you totally would settle for pity sex with Len!” All hands shoot up again.
Jim can feel Bones’ chest shaking as he laughs, “Aw shucks!” he drawls, all movie cowboy. “Y’all making me blush.”
“WE WISH!” they chorus.
“Me too,” Hikaru says, untangling his leg from under Number One’s arm so she can reverse out of the bunk, “and I’ll raise more than my hand for you, sugar.”
“She means her skirt!” Christine snorts. Jim glowers, like that’s what Hikaru means. Maybe Hikaru needs a reminder of how he promised to back off. Only he didn’t promise.
With great dexterity, Jim manages to wriggle his fingers so they’re near Hik’s arm and he pinches the flesh so hard he reckons his friend must be anaesthetized drunk because other than frown momentarily, he doesn’t squawk or react in any other way - and that should have hurt.
“You not raising your hand, Jim-mi-mah?” Hikaru smirks.
Jim shakes his head piously. “I just like Leonard; does there have to be something else in it? You have to go and sully everything with sex, Daphne, that’s your problem, you’re always so coarse.”
Hikaru’s look is pure indignation. Jim draws Bones’ arm around his waist and snuggles back more though his ears burn a little at the hypocrisy of his statement. Out of the two of them, Hikaru’s the gentleman and Jim’s the frat boy. But not anymore; Jim’s turned over a new leaf - this is the refined Jemima, alumni of the Riverside Conservatoire of Music - a name he totally made up but hell, who’s going to check on a detail like that when he’s so The Man (Woman) when it comes to sax and clarinet?
Jim feels something wet on his ear; is Bones shedding a tear?
“Oh, Leonard, some day your prince will come, you’ll see,” Janice says with a hiccup. “Don’t worry about him, girls, he always cries when he drinks too much.”
“No way. No prince. I’m celibate - have been ever since…” Bones shoves an arm past Jim’s cheek towards the curtain where Number One has re-appeared with another jug full of something. It’s violet, beautiful and swirling with slices of Jim’s favourite - kiwi; he licks his lips and lets more of his weight fall against Bones solid, warm, chest.
“Celibate since that sax player at the rest stop on Rigel V,” Number One says smoothly eliciting a cackle from the girls and a growl from Bones.
“Oh, and, wait…jush wait,” Christine slurs; in her effort to sit up she digs an elbow into Hikaru’s ribs, “what about that other guy, the one with spiky blond hair - also a sax player - on, shit what was the name of that outpost, full of those wriggly wormy things…anyway, that time…remind me just how big his dick was, Len, baby?” Her face is inches away from Jim’s who inhales the goodness that is her breath; it’s as intoxicating as the jar being sloshed around and passed between them in their happy cage.
“The one wearing spectacles,” Bones sighs, “it’s a kind of celibacy.” He raises his glass, and toasts them . “A man’s got needs, but between occasional bouts of faceless, mind-blowing sex, believe me - I’m one hundred percent celibate.” His head thuds against the wall when he downs his drink in one.”And you know what they say--”
“--there’s no such thing as a bad blow-job.” Janice nudges Jim enthusiastically and loses her balance almost falling out of the side of the bunk but saved by Number One who shoves her back in. Janice’s breasts land across Jim’s knees and he sighs happily, craning over Leonard’s muscled, beautifully hairy arm to take a sip of his drink.
“There’s a pattern!” Hikaru announces spoiling a very comfortable silence.
“Yes, Daphne, enlighten us,” Jim glares at him.
“Sax players,” Hik stares at Jim, “you might be in with a chance, Jem, if only you were a boy, huh?”
“But I’m a girl, I’m a girl,” Jim mutters sadly, letting out a soft sigh when Leonard lands a chaste, fraternal kiss to his temple.
+++
Bones has been gone a long time now so Jim fights his way out of the bunk. He pulls the pink pj bottoms free where they’re tugging at his balls, remembering to walk with elegance rather than his usual boyish bounce, towards where he sees Bones sitting on the furthest bunk from the party, near the door to the rest room; he’s got his legs crossed and ear buds in, stylus in hand eyes riveted to a PADD and totally oblivious to Jim.
Jim makes the most of it, leaning on the luggage rack and drinking in the sight before him. Bones removed his t-shirt when Chris spilled the bucket of ice over him, so he’s bare-chested, sleep pants having slouched down his hips, and bare feet tapping out some imagined rhythm on the sticky rubber flooring. Occasionally his tongue clicks against his teeth as he perhaps experiments with some percussion arrangement or something - he’s writing a song and Jim bites his lip, a little moved and sure he’s intruding. He coughs loudly and makes for the rest room, pausing to ask, “You okay, sugar?”
Leonard looks up, sad hazel eyes a little blood shot and he says, “Sure I am…jus’ writing…” Jim wants to crawl into that bunk with him, draw the curtain and drag those baggy sleep pants down with his teeth then show Bones just why he’s such a natural sax player, instead he swallows, tosses his boa round his throat because he may make a damn fine lady, but the Adam’s apple just won’t go away.
“You wanna talk?”
“Maybe some other time…”
Jim nods and hides out in the men’s room, giving his balls a good scratch while gazing at his love-stoned reflection. “You are so lost,” he whispers. Then he takes a sonic, cleans his teeth with a brush courtesy of his new best friend, the replicator, and emerges to find Nyota’s joined Leonard. She looks glorious, immaculate in her mauve, satin pajamas, and she’s got her trumpet.
“Early morning bugle call?” he whispers. He glances up the aisle and the curtains are all drawn with no obvious evidence they’ve been up all night partying. Nyota and Spock have slept in the captain’s quarters, a condition of their passage while the captain piloted the ship.
“Maybe,” she smiles conspiratorially at Bones, takes one last look at his PADD, and stands. “Okay?” she says, puckering her lips and lifting the trumpet.
Bones nods, closes his eyes and begins to sing:
You don’t know what love is…
…until you know the meaning of the blues…
‘til you love the love…
…you had to lose…
You don’t know what love is…
And Nyota plays, soft and plaintive, accompanying the heart-breaking lyrics, her eyes on Bones, taking his subtle cues.
***You Don’t Know What Love Is***
It’s a song about love lost, and it’s beautiful. Jim’s mouth goes dry as he watches Bones lose himself in the words, how he resurrects past pain and transforms it into something sumptuous and which speaks to everyone and, when he sings:
how those lips that taste of tears
soon lose their taste for kissing
Jim gazes at Len’s lush mouth and feels a wave of want wash over him, a need to prove him wrong, to show him it’s not all over.
There’s a movement above them and Number One sticks her head out, leans her chin on her hands and nods along. Nyota launches into an improvised solo during which the girls rise one after the other and file past to the rest room, not one of them daring to break the spell until the song’s over and Bones releases his hold on every damned one of them. Everyone, that is, except Jim who tries not to shake as he returns to the safety of his bunk to wrestle back into his dress ignoring the look of sympathy from Hikaru who’s standing transfixed, staring down the aisle as if he’s seen the meaning of life right there before him.
You and me both, Hik, you and me both...
.
part 3
N.B. All thanks and notes etc, including links to the soundtrack mix as well as the movie poster are to found in the Zing! Masterlist!
by norfolkdumpling
back to part 1
Zing Went the Strings of my Heart
Part 2/5
In his bunk space, Jim kicks off his heels groaning when his poor feet practically hiss like balloons. He rubs his arches. Fuck, he’s going to have to get some pain relief from somewhere.
“Anyone got booze?” he calls through the curtain, wondering if he dare remove his wig because his scalp’s crawling and his neck’s sweaty and he just wants to be a guy again for a few minutes and relax.
“One thing Miss Uhura won’t tolerate is booze and boys!” six female voices sing-song in unison followed by a peal of giggles which goes right to his cock. Jim sighs and stretches out in the bunk, his feet pressing against the cool wall at the far end; damn he loves girls and boys equally - though, recalling Leonard’s gorgeous tan face, those expressive eyes and that voice he might swear off women once and for all - and all other men, come to think of it. Jim reaches under his skirt and slides his hand into his panties while replaying the image of Leonard (Len? Leo? - the name does not suit him) okay, Leonard, walking. He’s interrupted five seconds in by his privacy curtain opening a crack and Hikaru’s upside down head appearing from the bunk above him.
“Are you jerking off, Jemima?”
Jim pulls his hand away and rolls away from the smirk. “Don’t you knock?”
“No door, bro,” Hikaru does some kind of acrobat thing and moments later he’s beside Jim on the bunk. “Want some help with that?” he elbows Jim in the ribs good-naturedly.
Jim folds his arms. “Fuck off, I’m faithful now - this is the new me, no more fuck buddies, no more boys, maybe no more girls - I’m saving myself for my wedding night.”
“Where’s Jim Kirk?” Hikaru feels Jim’s forehead without the back of his hand, “and what have you done with him?” Jim shrugs him off. “Wanna share?”
“What? Talk about my feelings?”
“No, you ass, wanna share the hot cowboy?”
“Fuck. Off.”
“That’s a shame - I’ll just keep him all to myself.” Hikaru couldn’t sound more smug.
“I have a nail file and I’m prepared to use it,” Jim hisses, then he frowns, takes Hikaru’s hand. “I’ve never asked you for anything, Hik, but this - just keep away, okay?”
Hikaru shakes his hand free, wipes it theatrically on his skirt and mimics Jim’s voice, “Never asked me for anything, okay, how about the time, with the twins? Or that time with the Andorian…? Or,” he adds, stroking his chin, ”the time-“
“-I haven’t asked you for anything today, dude, come on!”
“Yeah, because becoming a girl, no way -that counts.”
Whatever cool repost Jim was about to come up with is de-railed by that voice a ways down the aisle; Leonard sounds scared, grumbly yet still so sexy. Jim squints, shifts up on his elbow, so he can hear better.
“McCoy, it is against regulations to conceal yourself in the restroom. Your behavior will jeopardize our passage.” It’s the Vulcan.
“God dammit, you pointy-eared bastard, I have aviophobia, it’s a fear of flying in god damned space and I’m…let go…let go, dammit!”
Jim’s feels a surge of need to help, to save Leonard or some such shit, or at least win scout points; okay, to all intents and purposes it would be a woman Leonard will see come to his assistance, but Jim’ll straighten it out later; for now he’s got to… he pokes Hikaru, who’s dozed off beside him, hard in the ribs and hisses in his ear making his friend jump.
“Where’s your secret stash, Hik?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You always have one. I’m serious. I’m just asking you for one thing.”
“Okay, but please say you won’t use that expression ever again. I was falling asleep, man.” Hikaru fumbles between his breasts and pulls out a tiny flask holding enough Romulan Ale to work the mojo on a mammoth.
Jim drops a kiss to Hikaru’s forehead and clambers over him, ignoring the girly shriek. He drops into the aisle to see Leonard and Spock near the rest room.
“I don’t fucking give a rat’s ass about regulations,” Leonard’s saying and his face is a mix of pink flush with a green tinge which, Jim thinks, doesn’t stop him looking hot in the slightest.
“McCoy,” The Vulcan’s voice is firm and dispassionate.
Jim remembers in the nick of time that he’s a girl, he’s a girl and puts a little wriggle in his hips which isn’t quite so easy now he’s barefoot, and considering he can’t get to Leonard’s side quick enough. He worked in Riverside Pub, back on Earth, enough years to know a little about how to talk an aviophobe down and he’s just got to fucking do something.
Jim adopts what he hopes is a sympathetic rather than a predatory look but, it’s hard, real hard to squash the feeling of wanting to fight Leonard’s corner, of just wrestling the Vulcan to the ground then running off down the aisle with Leonard in his arms until they can hole up in his bunk and Leonard can show Jim just how grateful he is.
“How many years I gotta know you, Spock before you start using my first name, damn you? And will you fucking let go of my arm before I box your Vulcan ears?” Leonard’s eyes flicker towards Jim for a split second but he’s in full rant mode now and doesn’t acknowledge Jim. “Tell me your last name,” Leonard growls, jabbing a finger in Spock’s chest, struggling to free himself, “so I can be as much of a tight ass as you are - seems only, ouch, fair-“
“I doubt you would be able to pronounce it, Leonard.” Now right there, was that a little show of emotion from the Vulcan? Jim’s curiosity is peaked. The two men turn to him when he says, “Good evening, gentlemen, I wondered if I might help-“ Damn, he sounds like a maiden aunt, which is not going to result in Leonard falling in love with him. Jim feels a little swell in his chest at how McCoy’s dark expression softens momentarily at his words even though he knows that’s caused by Leonard’s deep rooted chivalry when in the presence of a woman rather than by cupid; still, Jim’ll take it for now.
“Let the lady past, Spock!”
Spock looks at Jim long and hard, perhaps to remind Jim he’s aware that he’s a fraud, but says nothing, merely loosens his grip and lifts his nose to a regal resting posture, then places his hands behind his back. “There is no need for assistance, madam, we were merely having a discussion.”
“No Spock, you were sayin’ I can’t go to the restroom, that throwing up in my bunk is preferable to doing it in there - in a sanitary way. That your idea of a discussion?” Leonard folds his arms and adds, “Bully.”
He looks Jim full in the eye for support and, lord help him, Jim’s real glad his panties are a size too small because otherwise his skirt would be tenting now, such is the effect those thick, scowly eyebrows are having on him. Yes, Leonard has Jim’s support and he opens his mouth to say as much but it’s like jumping onto a moving train trying to get a word in edgewise now Leonard’s on a roll.
“The hull could break open, we’ll all burn in seconds til we’re dark, iddy pieces of charcoal, then,” Leonard thumbs in Spock’s direction keeping dark eyes fixed on Jim, “Mr. Unpronounceable Surname won’t look so smug.”
“It is against regulations to enter the restroom until we have left orbit,” Spock says stubborn and as immovable as a rock being pounded by waves.
“Well,” Jim says softly and counting on his awesome eyes doing the work for him as they so often do, “but I need to powder my nose, and I wondered if Mr. McCoy wouldn’t mind accompanying me. I get kind of nervous too - maybe we can cancel each others fears out? What do you say, Mr. Spock?” Jim lowers his eyes and cocks his head in what he hopes comes off as modest, though it’s not a pose he’s had much experience of, truth be told.
“It is against regulations for males to…”
“Let it go, Spock, there’s a lady in need here,” and yeah, it totally melts Jim the way McCoy says here-yah, all southern and drawly, to say nothing of the way he ducks his head and holds out an arm for Jim to take it. “I’ll be sure to come back soon as we’re ready for take-off, don’t get your britches in a bunch.”
Spock’s eyes dart to the side for a second as he maybe considers the meaning of the idiom but he does move aside.
“McCoy, I do like your cologne,” Jim says, fluttering his eyelashes as McCoy leads him into the restroom. “What is it? I might want to buy some for my nephew.” It’s just two stalls and two sinks, a hand drier and a tiny sonic shower so that, to Jim’s delight, they’re forced to stand pretty close, space being at a premium in the cargo ship.
“No cologne, darlin’, just good old shampoo,” Leonard drawls; he’s gotta stop touching those deliciously big fingers to that imaginary hat, Jim thinks, or Jim won’t be responsible for his actions - fuck the man smells so good.
Jim swallows and turns to the mirror, looks McCoy’s reflection in the eye. “Actually I lied to you, McCoy-“
“Leonard, “he’s corrected, “How so, ma’am?”
“Leonard, of course, thank you, and you’ll have to call me Jemima. I have a confession to make - I’m not frightened of flying, but I do have something that might help.” Jim reaches into his cleavage and draws out the flask and starts at the way Leonard snatches it from his hands.
“Thank fuck, if you’ll pardon my French,” Leonard’s cheeks flush red, “but between you and me, darin’, I’m real scared of flying.” Well, not exactly between the two of them, given what he’s just witnessed, but Jim lets it slide, fixes his eyes on Leonard’s lush mouth, “Spock knows but he keeps booking these gigs - it’s like he purposefully works out the most un-ergonomic routes just to make me suffer.”
“But you’re in the band, Leonard, Spock can’t very well leave you behind, can he?” Jim says gently, daring to rest his hand on a broad shoulder. “What do you play? The guitar, right?” Jim’s voice is practically a squeak, such is the effect of the heat radiating up his fingers from that moment of contact.
“Sure, but as a matter of fact I sing mostly, Jemima.”
Jim should say something polite in response only he’s mesmerized by the sight of raspberry colored lips, plush and womanly almost, pursing round the slender neck of the flask. Thing is, Leonard’s drinking way too fast so Jim makes himself damn well snap out of it.
“Take it easy with this stuff, it’s got quite a kick.”
“I’m counting on it,” a raised eyebrow temporarily pulls Jim’s gaze from that glorious mouth then he’s forced to suffer the sight of a totally lickable, thick column of neck when Leonard leans back to swallow again. Jim can’t miss the beads of sweat on Leonard’s nose nor how his hand shakes a little when he lowers the flask, the other gripping the sink behind him for balance, but if Leonard doesn’t slow the fuck down, there’ll be cartoon spirals where his pupils should be.
When the ship begins to rumble and the safety announcement cuts in informing passengers to return to their bunks or the seating area, while Jim experiences the rush like always, it’s obvious Leonard isn’t feeling the love; the last of the colour drains from tan cheeks and his eyes flip to wild. He tries to dart past Jim into the stall - “I need to…” he begins, “ I need to get…”
“Yeah, I know, “Jim moves closer still and, rests his hand on a shaking chest hoping this won’t have the effect of making Leonard feel claustrophobic on top of everything else. “I got you, Leonard, just breathe, okay?” Fucking Romulan ale doesn’t work for shit, still…”Maybe have another drink? “
Leonard lifts his head and cracks open an eye, then flinches at the announcement:
Take off in t minus two minutes…
Leonard twists round and doubles over the sink, resting his head in his hands. Part of Jim’s mind, in a dim recess he doesn’t visit so often, has him wondering if he’s being a creep, taking advantage like this, using every opportunity to touch Leonard, but he also can’t deny the genuine concern and need to comfort this man, feelings of desire and protectiveness warring in him when Jim takes in the bowed head and scrunched up eyes; so Jim lifts a tentative hand and slides it under Leonard’s jacket, purely so Leonard knows he’s got someone there, you understand, then he rubs what he hopes are soothing circles across sweat dampened cotton trying to ignore how muscular Leonard is.
“I’m sorry you had to come to the rest room because of me,” Leonard manages to say through gritted teeth. He opens his eyes, still hunched forward, he says, “You know, I feel better…” then when the ship whines around them he jackknifes upright, eyes shooting to the side like he’s listening to some internal rhythm, “I may throw up on you…”
“No you’ll be fine,” Jim’s braver now, trailing a hand across Leonard’s damp brow, sweeping aside a few stray hairs which have stuck to his forehead. Damn, Jim loves this, he admits, how being a girl gives him license to express tenderness towards strangers. Sure he’s held Hikaru’s hair plenty of times, so to speak, and while there was concern for his friend, it didn’t make Jim want to pull Hikaru close and hold him and never let him go. Maybe Jim’s feeling maternal, yeah, that’ll be it - whatever... it’s nice, really nice taking care of someone.
Then Leonard has to go and spoil the moment-
“You remind me of my mom,” Leonard says, pressing his hip into Jim’s thigh for more contact - damn he smells good, all sandalwood and clean sweat breaking through the spicy ale scent from the flask.
Take off in t minus sixty seconds…
And that’s when Leonard throws up… when things were going so well too…
Jim grimaces though his hand doesn’t leave Leonard’s back; he watches Leonard’s mouth gape and spasm, listens to him groan then hands him a paper towel. Once Leonard’s sluiced out his mouth, and rinsed his face, Jim tells the computer to sanitize the sink and freshen the air.
And that’s when Jim gets who Leonard reminds him of - it’s this hot doctor in Jim’s favorite TV show when he was a kid; it was kind of cheesy and camp and the sets rattled a lot but that guy, he might have been Jim’s first crush. Now what was the character’s name…?
Leonard stares into the bowl and frowns, “Fuck, I think I may have puked up stomach lining, bones too.”
Bones! that’s it, that’s what the guy was called. Fuck, Jim hasn’t thought about that show in years; it’s the same southern drawl, the same sexy sneery mouth (though fortunately not the same hairy knuckles) - it’s like Leonard’s a reboot of Bones!
Leonard, no Bones because the name just fits, straightens up, runs a hand through his crazy fucking hair, then takes Jim’s hand and kisses it.
“Thank you, darlin,” Bones says, all sincere and dashing, “mind if I hang onto this?” He nods at the flask resting on the sink unit. Jim nods dumbly, Hikaru won’t mind - it’s a small sacrifice for his friend to make, you know - to ensure Jim’s future happiness.
“You realize we’re on our way now - at warp - it all happened while you were…” Jim indicates the sink. “Looks like you didn’t notice.” He grins, feeling mighty pleased with himself.
“Thanks to you, Jemima,” the way Bones pronounces it, Jim-mi-ma, it gives Jim a little kick of delight to hear his real name uttered, even by ‘mistake’. “I’m always better when we’re on our way, it’s mostly the build up gets me every time. And,” he leans into Jim again, “between you and me, I’m generally a bit of heavy drinking helps some.” He smiles apologetically and shakes the flask, “damned waste of good ale, sorry. Least I’ll be able to make it back to my bunk and pass out, eh?” He suddenly peers at Jim’s face making Jim flush around the neck, his breath’s so close and warm. “You need to fix your face, baby girl, you’re looking a little sooty-” Sooty? Shit, the stubble - Jim turns away.
“Yeah, ship could do with a clean, right? Guess I got something on my hands.” He makes for he door, “And you’re welcome.“
Reluctantly Jim follows a much more cheerful, almost imperceptibly swaying Bones down the narrow aisle towards his bunk. The girls look concerned and flash him warm sympathetic smiles. Jim expects Bones to collapse, instead he pulls out his guitar case stowed underneath the bed. “Come on, ladies, though it surprises the hell out of me, looks like we didn’t all go out in a ball of flame, so I say we celebrate with why we’re here. Music!”
Jim pushes past him gently, flushing a little when he sees Leonard arrange the guitar strap around his big shoulders and wedge a plectrum between his lips as he fiddles with the strings, canting his ear to listen as he tunes up. The girls - Jim’s learning their names, Janice, Christine, another gorgeous, willowy brunette with the nickname Number One - exit their bunks. They all look like cupcakes, he thinks, bows in their hair, Disney princess pjs, and plaid for one or two. He totally neglected to replicate nightwear not thinking further ahead than getting the hell away from Nero.
Hikaru’s sitting on the edge of the bunk, stocking clad feet dangling off the side; his arms are folded and his face is a portrait of sarcasm - seems he doesn’t share the same view of Jemima being a selfless and supportive companion for their hunk of a singer as the rest of the girls.
Damned if he cares- Jim’s pretty sure a halo of hearts is circling his head after twenty minutes in close confines with Bones, but he does have other shit to worry about; Jim stretches up and whispers, “I need beard suppressor, so do you - where we gonna get some?”
“Replicator in the rest room?” Hikaru says casually, smiling down at the girls from his perch, watching them surround Leonard as he plays a few experimental chords.
“I’ve got no fucking credits left, Daphne,” Jim hisses.
“Hey, Jemima, you know anything goes?” Janice calls to him.
“What? Oh, the song, sure - sax intro coming right up…”
Jim flips open his case, puts the strap over his head, then scoots up on the top bunk next to Hikaru, “You’re on drums, lady,” he says, and Hikaru reaches for Jim’s case and begins to rap with his palms. Meanwhile, Number One sets up the backing track and the girls squeeze into the top bunk opposite, their legs moving in unison, painted toes and animal slippers sliding left then right in a makeshift, cutsy can-can, till Jim’s done and they can come in on vocals.
***Anything Goes***
in olden days, a glimpse of stocking
Was considered really quite shocking
And Bones has found a ukulele from somewhere - Jim tries not to be too obvious in his admiration when he rests his sax, drinking in long, tan fingers flying over the strings. He feels a hand slip round his ankle and Christine beams up, “Conga, Jemima?”
Hell yeah, he needs to work off his Bones buzz or he won’t be able to sleep. Jim bounces down, waits for Christine to rest her hands on his hips then sashays up and down the aisle as he plays, leading the girls kicking sideways behind him. He winks at Hikaru as they pass privately thanking some deity that they can’t hear his friend singing because as a man (and most likely as a woman too) Hik’s voice is an outrage.
They all giggle when the song ends and Christine squashes up next to Bones, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Feel better, asshole?”
The corner of a full mouth quirks, “I guess. If we’re going out might as well do it in style, huh?” Damn, the way he’s all bashful through those gorgeous lashes, Jim could just…
“Hey, Len, sing one of yours, go on!” Janice leans over and kisses him on the cheek. Damn, that’s a lot of female attention - Jim isn’t used to this - he’s the one who’s the honey-pot as a general rule but, rather than feel jealousy, he allows his mind to run through several images of how handsome a pair he and Bones would be, the two of them hand in hand…never mind Bones thinks he’s a girl. This totally will be a surmountable problem, he just needs to allow his genius mind to come up with something then they can start looking at the Dwell catalogue together.
Bones thrums his fingers on the board then plays a couple of experimental chords before shyly announcing, “erm, this one, you maybe haven’t heard before - except for Chris here, suffers my singing in the shower most days…” He loosens the speakers from his PADD and attaches them to post, and taps the screen. His cheeks are adorably pink when he mumbles, “I’ve called it ‘Take me Home’…might change it…and Chris did the drum track, she insisted…” he winks endearingly at her and then begins to sing:
***Take me Home***
I'm so sick and tired
of all these things
that drag me down
I've got no where to go
they say that life
is in these hands
you give everything
you give yourself away you give
and still you choke
and find yourself running for the door
Jim watches and listens from a distance gripping the neck of his sax so tight there’s sweat forming on his palms. He can’t fucking tear his eyes away from Bones’ fingers, the side of his head, the way his forehead creases, how his eyebrows are all scrunchy and serious, and he certainly can’t block out the surge of emotion he feels in response to the naked feeling in the delivery.
Janice nudges the girls and whispers some instruction to them so that when Bones finishes up with the last chorus they’re ready for their improvised backing vocals.
so come and take me home
lead me to your door
take me where you are
lead me to your door
and let me in
just let me in
and let me leave
just let me leave this world
come on now let me leave this world
at least just for a while
The girls, sing ‘oo-oo, oo, oo, oo-oo,” while holding hands and swaying with big soppy grins on their faces. Hikaru joins in but Jim can’t move, can barely fucking breathe.
Bones looks up finally, a slightly goofy look on his face and Jim swallows, glances at Hikaru then lays down his sax and claps as enthusiastically as the rest of them.
“Damn, he’s seriously talented,” Jim says to Janice who’s standing closest to him.
“Trouble is, he can only write songs when he’s miserable,” she says, scratching at one of her curlers.
“Miserable?”
“Yeah, he’s written a hella lot of songs in the past six months.”
“Why? What happened?”
“He got divorced - some asshole called Joss. He really broke our boy’s heart, you know.”
Jim wants to find Joss, wants to beat the crap out of him, then immediately shake his hand for making Bones available to him.
Jim notices how Bones is leaning over a little, maybe not all the Romulan ale was expelled via the sink into the black after all, for his guitar’s slipping from his fingers, head lolling. Chris lifts the strap over Leonard’s head and arranges a pillow for him. She’s so top of the list for chief bridesmaid, Jim thinks. Christine removes Bones’ boots and Jim’s heart clenches when he notes how one of Bones’ socks has bunched up round his toe. Janice hoists it up and stretches his long legs out while Chris pulls the blanket over him. Bones has one eye open and the other’s shuddering like he’s trying to stay awake but he’s soon snoring with the curtain drawn.
The girls disappear to their own bunks - it’s pretty late, almost 2am, and with the time difference they’ll be exhausted when they arrive on the far side of Risa at dawn, so Jim makes to turn in, still wishing he had some nightwear. It’s unavoidable but he’s going to feel kind of vulnerable in just his bra and panties; the way he kicks about in the night, he’s likely to end up with the covers round his feet with chest hair and treasure trail exposed and, should anyone pull the curtains back, they’ll get the fright of their lives.
He plumps up his pillow and rubs his chin, and calls quietly to Hikaru who’s already drawn his curtains. “How we gonna get beard suppressor without any credits?”
“Replicators are computers, Jim-mi-mah! Computers are your bitches, go fiddle with it!”
Jim scratches his chin and sighs, okay…
+++
Jim shrugs his shoulder, trying to shake off the strong hand - he was so enjoying his dream, something about Bones dancing naked in just a cowboy hat…
“Fuck off, Hik,” his voice is gruff with sleep and he buries his head under the pillow.
“Hey, darlin’, you’re dreaming…” and Jim must be because he swears he can feel Bones squeezing into the bunk next to him. He drags the sheet over himself and thinks ‘high pitch’ because his voice sounded so fucking wrong just then. He clears his throat, “Hey, Leonard…sorry, I was dreaming about back home.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just we have an emergency-“
“What? Where?” Jim sits up and smacks his head on the bunk above. The answering thump from Hikaru’s fist or foot is immediate.
“Hey, lady!” Hikaru giggles and the mattress above him bounces; Jim turns over to be confronted with, yes the totally dreamy but not dreamed Leonard McCoy. Face partly in shadow in the confined space, for a moment he looks like an old style movie still, until his expression changes to endearingly concerned as Bones stretches out a big hand to touch Jim’s cheek. Jim holds his breath; Bones needs to move, his other hand is way too close to Jim’s demi-boner, and while Jim’s the master of talking himself out of a corner, this one might be a challenge too far. He swallows then he’s distracted from this really, wonderfully intense moment of unresolved sexual tension (just on his side, yeah, but…) by more giggles, all coming from Hik’s bunk.
“Leonard,” Jim says stupidly, his voice a squeak. “What’s the emergency? Something up with the flight?”
A gravelly chuckle makes the impending discovery of what’s now a full boner more likely - damn, no one has a right to be that damned sexy.
“Nope, it’s just…” Bones looks at him sideways, conspiratorial, “do you have a cherry?”
“She lost that years ago!” squeals Hikaru.
“I’m surprised you can hear me above all that giggling, Daphne!” His mind processes what Bones just says. “Cherry? Just one…erm… cherry?”
Leonard’s all dimples, and he leans closer, “between you and me, Jem, one’s too fuckin’ many.” His hand goes to his mouth and he covers it. “Sorry?”
“It’s okay, when you’ve been around guys, musicians, as long as me, you’ve heard it all.” Damn, Bones needs to move; Jim can feel the heat pooling in his balls, he has to move. “So? Cherry? And I thought you’d passed out?”
“Chris has a stash of anti-alcohol. And Number One’s making cocktails. That girl’s good but when she demands cherries, you get cherries - perfectionist.” He shrugs. ”Though between you and me putting anything but a tongue into bourbon’s sacrilege - I’ve tried tellin’ her but…” Another grin and Jim is so fucking lost he feels an overpowering urge to break out of the confines of the small space or he’s not going to be answerable for his actions - those lips look so…and Bones must never, ever utter the word ‘tongue’in his presence again unless they're both naked.
“No cherries here,” Jim croaks. He nods upwards, “we having a party?”
“Damn straight!”
“But I haven’t got a thing to wear! Our bags were stolen.”
“Sure you have.” Jim feels something soft tickle then trail across his throat and he reaches a hand to touch feathers - a boa.
“Perfect! Gimme five while I fix my face and I’ll be right up.”
Bones nods and slides out of the bunk elegantly, his hand pressing on Jim’s stomach for purchase, ”sorry,” he drawls.
“Don’t be,” and none of the breathiness is faked this time.
When the curtain opens, Jim sees a pale leg disappearing upwards as another party-goer crams into Hikaru’s bunk. Bones grins, steps onto Jim’s mattress and hoists himself up, star-print sleep pants and long, sinewy, perfect feet disappearing out of view.
Jim counts to ten, wraps the sheet around himself and scuttles down the aisle towards the rest room only remembering to veer towards the ladies’ at the last second. Good thing he has awesome hacking skills, that replicator is going to deliver again - something pink and girly. But first he slips into the stall - he needs to take care of the very unladylike tenting in the front of his sheet - it’s only polite after all, though it has been helping with the whole high-pitched thing.
+++
Jim thinks he’s never been so happy in his life.
Bones is leaning against the back wall of the bunk and Jim’s managed (with minimal wrestling) to gain pole position so he’s pretty much sitting on Bones’ lap. But then again, so’s Janice, who’s got her legs draped across Hikaru’s legs and partly under Chris where she lies on her belly across Hikaru’s lap, her Disney princess clad ass in the air. Of course, it’s wasted on Hik, who only likes boys, but Jim? He’s on cloud fucking nine, the big puppy pile, the scent of girls, all bubbly and pink and intoxicating mixing in with the clean sweat on Leonard’s throat.
There’s copious amounts of bourbon being circulated, some of it neat, the rest shaken up in experimental mixes with milk, juices, anything the replicator can come up with. And as Bones gets drunker, as Jim follows him drink for drink, Jim gets more and more cocky and rests a hand on Bones’ thigh - least he thinks it’s his thigh; he’d have to move to check and he hasn’t the strength.
Jim rest his cheek against Bones’ stubbly jaw and he closes his eyes, lets out a little doggy sigh of happiness.
“You flirting with me darlin’?” the soft, moist mouth near Jim’s ear, sending a shudder through him, “Because beautiful as you are, I’m a one man guy, you know?” A strong arm wraps around Jim’s neck and he feels his cock stirring again which is a miracle because he is so fucking drunk.
“I know, you big, southern hunk of a thing, but a girl can hope right?” There’s sudden silence around them and Janice, Chris, Number One and Hikaru look at them with big, bleary eyes.
Chris pats Jim’s arm with her foot. “There, there, Jemima, get your heart broken why don’t you? You won’t be the first!” She leans back into Hikaru who’s eyes bug and transmit all kinds of secret words to Jim he doesn’t want to hear over her shoulder. “Hey, ladies, raise your hands if you’re in love with Leonard McCoy!”
They squeal and raise two hands each, Christine’s, to Jim’s satisfaction knocking Hikaru’s nose.
“And, and…” Number One adds, “raise your hand if you totally would settle for pity sex with Len!” All hands shoot up again.
Jim can feel Bones’ chest shaking as he laughs, “Aw shucks!” he drawls, all movie cowboy. “Y’all making me blush.”
“WE WISH!” they chorus.
“Me too,” Hikaru says, untangling his leg from under Number One’s arm so she can reverse out of the bunk, “and I’ll raise more than my hand for you, sugar.”
“She means her skirt!” Christine snorts. Jim glowers, like that’s what Hikaru means. Maybe Hikaru needs a reminder of how he promised to back off. Only he didn’t promise.
With great dexterity, Jim manages to wriggle his fingers so they’re near Hik’s arm and he pinches the flesh so hard he reckons his friend must be anaesthetized drunk because other than frown momentarily, he doesn’t squawk or react in any other way - and that should have hurt.
“You not raising your hand, Jim-mi-mah?” Hikaru smirks.
Jim shakes his head piously. “I just like Leonard; does there have to be something else in it? You have to go and sully everything with sex, Daphne, that’s your problem, you’re always so coarse.”
Hikaru’s look is pure indignation. Jim draws Bones’ arm around his waist and snuggles back more though his ears burn a little at the hypocrisy of his statement. Out of the two of them, Hikaru’s the gentleman and Jim’s the frat boy. But not anymore; Jim’s turned over a new leaf - this is the refined Jemima, alumni of the Riverside Conservatoire of Music - a name he totally made up but hell, who’s going to check on a detail like that when he’s so The Man (Woman) when it comes to sax and clarinet?
Jim feels something wet on his ear; is Bones shedding a tear?
“Oh, Leonard, some day your prince will come, you’ll see,” Janice says with a hiccup. “Don’t worry about him, girls, he always cries when he drinks too much.”
“No way. No prince. I’m celibate - have been ever since…” Bones shoves an arm past Jim’s cheek towards the curtain where Number One has re-appeared with another jug full of something. It’s violet, beautiful and swirling with slices of Jim’s favourite - kiwi; he licks his lips and lets more of his weight fall against Bones solid, warm, chest.
“Celibate since that sax player at the rest stop on Rigel V,” Number One says smoothly eliciting a cackle from the girls and a growl from Bones.
“Oh, and, wait…jush wait,” Christine slurs; in her effort to sit up she digs an elbow into Hikaru’s ribs, “what about that other guy, the one with spiky blond hair - also a sax player - on, shit what was the name of that outpost, full of those wriggly wormy things…anyway, that time…remind me just how big his dick was, Len, baby?” Her face is inches away from Jim’s who inhales the goodness that is her breath; it’s as intoxicating as the jar being sloshed around and passed between them in their happy cage.
“The one wearing spectacles,” Bones sighs, “it’s a kind of celibacy.” He raises his glass, and toasts them . “A man’s got needs, but between occasional bouts of faceless, mind-blowing sex, believe me - I’m one hundred percent celibate.” His head thuds against the wall when he downs his drink in one.”And you know what they say--”
“--there’s no such thing as a bad blow-job.” Janice nudges Jim enthusiastically and loses her balance almost falling out of the side of the bunk but saved by Number One who shoves her back in. Janice’s breasts land across Jim’s knees and he sighs happily, craning over Leonard’s muscled, beautifully hairy arm to take a sip of his drink.
“There’s a pattern!” Hikaru announces spoiling a very comfortable silence.
“Yes, Daphne, enlighten us,” Jim glares at him.
“Sax players,” Hik stares at Jim, “you might be in with a chance, Jem, if only you were a boy, huh?”
“But I’m a girl, I’m a girl,” Jim mutters sadly, letting out a soft sigh when Leonard lands a chaste, fraternal kiss to his temple.
+++
Bones has been gone a long time now so Jim fights his way out of the bunk. He pulls the pink pj bottoms free where they’re tugging at his balls, remembering to walk with elegance rather than his usual boyish bounce, towards where he sees Bones sitting on the furthest bunk from the party, near the door to the rest room; he’s got his legs crossed and ear buds in, stylus in hand eyes riveted to a PADD and totally oblivious to Jim.
Jim makes the most of it, leaning on the luggage rack and drinking in the sight before him. Bones removed his t-shirt when Chris spilled the bucket of ice over him, so he’s bare-chested, sleep pants having slouched down his hips, and bare feet tapping out some imagined rhythm on the sticky rubber flooring. Occasionally his tongue clicks against his teeth as he perhaps experiments with some percussion arrangement or something - he’s writing a song and Jim bites his lip, a little moved and sure he’s intruding. He coughs loudly and makes for the rest room, pausing to ask, “You okay, sugar?”
Leonard looks up, sad hazel eyes a little blood shot and he says, “Sure I am…jus’ writing…” Jim wants to crawl into that bunk with him, draw the curtain and drag those baggy sleep pants down with his teeth then show Bones just why he’s such a natural sax player, instead he swallows, tosses his boa round his throat because he may make a damn fine lady, but the Adam’s apple just won’t go away.
“You wanna talk?”
“Maybe some other time…”
Jim nods and hides out in the men’s room, giving his balls a good scratch while gazing at his love-stoned reflection. “You are so lost,” he whispers. Then he takes a sonic, cleans his teeth with a brush courtesy of his new best friend, the replicator, and emerges to find Nyota’s joined Leonard. She looks glorious, immaculate in her mauve, satin pajamas, and she’s got her trumpet.
“Early morning bugle call?” he whispers. He glances up the aisle and the curtains are all drawn with no obvious evidence they’ve been up all night partying. Nyota and Spock have slept in the captain’s quarters, a condition of their passage while the captain piloted the ship.
“Maybe,” she smiles conspiratorially at Bones, takes one last look at his PADD, and stands. “Okay?” she says, puckering her lips and lifting the trumpet.
Bones nods, closes his eyes and begins to sing:
You don’t know what love is…
…until you know the meaning of the blues…
‘til you love the love…
…you had to lose…
You don’t know what love is…
And Nyota plays, soft and plaintive, accompanying the heart-breaking lyrics, her eyes on Bones, taking his subtle cues.
***You Don’t Know What Love Is***
It’s a song about love lost, and it’s beautiful. Jim’s mouth goes dry as he watches Bones lose himself in the words, how he resurrects past pain and transforms it into something sumptuous and which speaks to everyone and, when he sings:
how those lips that taste of tears
soon lose their taste for kissing
Jim gazes at Len’s lush mouth and feels a wave of want wash over him, a need to prove him wrong, to show him it’s not all over.
There’s a movement above them and Number One sticks her head out, leans her chin on her hands and nods along. Nyota launches into an improvised solo during which the girls rise one after the other and file past to the rest room, not one of them daring to break the spell until the song’s over and Bones releases his hold on every damned one of them. Everyone, that is, except Jim who tries not to shake as he returns to the safety of his bunk to wrestle back into his dress ignoring the look of sympathy from Hikaru who’s standing transfixed, staring down the aisle as if he’s seen the meaning of life right there before him.
You and me both, Hik, you and me both...
.
part 3