Fic: And Then They Kissed
Title: And Then They Kissed
Author: linelenagain
Rating: PG
Words: 1,125
Summary: Five kisses that could have been the first. And one that was. (Yeah, this is as schmoopy as it sounds. You’ve been warned.)
Notes: mga1999 and pixelmayhem were kind enough to read this over for me, and assured me it would not give anyone any cavities. Can't decide if I want to post it outside my journal though. The world must never know what a complete and utter sap I am.
And then they kissed.
Five: Sweet
It wasn’t their first kiss - far from it, actually. It was sweet, and loving, and wonderful, but it wasn’t new. It was just another kiss, like all the ones they’d shared a thousand times in as many days and over an even greater number of light years.
That didn’t make it less, or unimportant, and it never broke, just faded into a well of affection and aching tenderness.
They held each other afterwards for a long moment. “Every time I kiss you it’s as good as the first time,” Bones murmured into his ear.
“Better, I hope.” Jim had to laugh, because at moments like this he felt almost too happy, like he would burst without the vent, the release.
Bones smiled into his neck. “No, that one’s always gonna be my favorite.”
Jim hummed his approval and rewarded him with another kiss. And it was so sweet that it could have been the first time. But it wasn’t.
Four: Scared
This kiss almost never happened.
It had been a terrible fight, the kind where words that can never be unsaid are thrown around like daggers, cutting indiscriminately. Jim forgot, months or years later, what the argument had been about, but he never forgot the look on Bones’ face as the doors to his quarters closed between them. That look that said, ‘I’m done.’
Jim wasn’t done. Could never be done. And he’d never gotten anything by being passive; the world had set its terms for him: take what you want, or don’t. But he knew the possibility was real that Bones would pull away, reject him, and it held him back. He was not afraid of Bones, only of the confirmation of his absence.
He worked himself up to it, and when he used his Captain’s override to force his way into the CMO’s quarters, the relief that washed over Bones’ face remade his heart.
Jim would always remember this kiss, the one that almost never happened, and how scared he’d been in a way that neither of them was, the first time.
Three: Passionate
When Jim was made Captain of the Enterprise, he thought it was the best moment of his life. And it was - no question. He’d made good at last, and knew that he could finally look in a mirror without making excuses to his father’s eyes.
In that moment, every feeling of grief and shame and regret melted out of him, and all his empty spaces filled with joy. It was a new feeling, this unmuted jubilation - like weightlessness, and he was almost drunk with it.
The look on Bones’ face only fanned the flames, because God, had anyone ever looked at him with pride before? Giddy, Jim grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the small reception, across the campus, both of them laughing like children who’d never seen the end of a world.
In their dorm room, far from the celebration of his promotion but the only place either of them wanted to be, Jim pulled Bones in close, gripping him hard, promising with sure and certain touches that there was to be no more waiting.
And that, that kiss, was the new best moment of his life. And it was heady and provocative and promising in every way a first kiss should be. But it wasn’t the first.
Two: Hesitant
The best first kisses are always just a little hesitant. Just like this one.
It was after the Narada, after Jim’s triumphant return to the ship and their bitter limp home, after the media frenzy and the debriefings end the impromptu memorial to cleanse their grief.
And finally, after all of that, it was Jim and Bones, in the room they’d always shared. But not alone. There was an electricity in the air, and with it, a cautiousness. Not wariness, but a mutual decision. Wait and see. Wait and see. A hesitation. But not for long.
It was a gentle meeting of mouths, chaste and unhurried. But for all their outer stillness, there was a current, an underlying question: how far can I push? And there was also an answer, (at least a little farther) which was just as essential now as it would have been, if this kiss were their first.
One: Well-Timed
It had all the dramatic timing of a first kiss. But it wasn’t, not quite.
Bones grabbed him outside of the transporter room, before Jim left for the Narada. And he couldn’t say ‘don’t’ - though he wanted to. But he didn’t try, because they’d just started something new and fragile, and because Bones was tired of hurling himself against the wall of Jim’s infuriating rightness.
So he didn’t ask, didn’t forbid. Just grabbed, and held, and when it melted naturally into a kiss, he put all his worry and longing and hope into it, everything he needed Jim to know before he left.
And when it broke, Jim looked at him with such longing - not to continue, but to stay. To stay with Bones, in that instant of peace inside a hurricane. He might have broken, if Bones had asked; probably not, but he might have. But Bones didn’t ask.
It was a perfect moment for a first kiss, or the last.
Zero - and the one that was
There was no hint of a beginning, and it wasn’t a promise of many more to come. It barely qualified as private; plain luck put them in an empty hallway outside the controlled chaos of Sickbay. And maybe it was the adrenaline high of his unexpected and near-fatal free fall, or his grief for the billions lost on Vulcan, or the serendipity of their solitude. Or maybe it was simple, bone-deep gratitude that made Jim whisper, “Thank you, Bones, God, thank you,” and pull him in for the kiss.
It was sloppy, and needy, and a little uncomfortable. Their heights made it awkward; Jim was accustomed to bending further, and Bones unused to leaning up, and Jim’s grip on Bones’ stunned and acquiescent arms was fierce and unromantic.
Bones’ mouth was a little too dry, or Jim’s was slightly too wet. And it would be an understatement to call the timing poor. As far as kisses went, it was neither of their best. But it was the first. Even without a trace of sweetness, without the time for hesitancy or the mood for passion or the self-awareness for fear, it was the first, and always would be. And it was cherished, and sacred, and beautiful just for that.
Author: linelenagain
Rating: PG
Words: 1,125
Summary: Five kisses that could have been the first. And one that was. (Yeah, this is as schmoopy as it sounds. You’ve been warned.)
Notes: mga1999 and pixelmayhem were kind enough to read this over for me, and assured me it would not give anyone any cavities. Can't decide if I want to post it outside my journal though. The world must never know what a complete and utter sap I am.
And then they kissed.
Five: Sweet
It wasn’t their first kiss - far from it, actually. It was sweet, and loving, and wonderful, but it wasn’t new. It was just another kiss, like all the ones they’d shared a thousand times in as many days and over an even greater number of light years.
That didn’t make it less, or unimportant, and it never broke, just faded into a well of affection and aching tenderness.
They held each other afterwards for a long moment. “Every time I kiss you it’s as good as the first time,” Bones murmured into his ear.
“Better, I hope.” Jim had to laugh, because at moments like this he felt almost too happy, like he would burst without the vent, the release.
Bones smiled into his neck. “No, that one’s always gonna be my favorite.”
Jim hummed his approval and rewarded him with another kiss. And it was so sweet that it could have been the first time. But it wasn’t.
Four: Scared
This kiss almost never happened.
It had been a terrible fight, the kind where words that can never be unsaid are thrown around like daggers, cutting indiscriminately. Jim forgot, months or years later, what the argument had been about, but he never forgot the look on Bones’ face as the doors to his quarters closed between them. That look that said, ‘I’m done.’
Jim wasn’t done. Could never be done. And he’d never gotten anything by being passive; the world had set its terms for him: take what you want, or don’t. But he knew the possibility was real that Bones would pull away, reject him, and it held him back. He was not afraid of Bones, only of the confirmation of his absence.
He worked himself up to it, and when he used his Captain’s override to force his way into the CMO’s quarters, the relief that washed over Bones’ face remade his heart.
Jim would always remember this kiss, the one that almost never happened, and how scared he’d been in a way that neither of them was, the first time.
Three: Passionate
When Jim was made Captain of the Enterprise, he thought it was the best moment of his life. And it was - no question. He’d made good at last, and knew that he could finally look in a mirror without making excuses to his father’s eyes.
In that moment, every feeling of grief and shame and regret melted out of him, and all his empty spaces filled with joy. It was a new feeling, this unmuted jubilation - like weightlessness, and he was almost drunk with it.
The look on Bones’ face only fanned the flames, because God, had anyone ever looked at him with pride before? Giddy, Jim grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the small reception, across the campus, both of them laughing like children who’d never seen the end of a world.
In their dorm room, far from the celebration of his promotion but the only place either of them wanted to be, Jim pulled Bones in close, gripping him hard, promising with sure and certain touches that there was to be no more waiting.
And that, that kiss, was the new best moment of his life. And it was heady and provocative and promising in every way a first kiss should be. But it wasn’t the first.
Two: Hesitant
The best first kisses are always just a little hesitant. Just like this one.
It was after the Narada, after Jim’s triumphant return to the ship and their bitter limp home, after the media frenzy and the debriefings end the impromptu memorial to cleanse their grief.
And finally, after all of that, it was Jim and Bones, in the room they’d always shared. But not alone. There was an electricity in the air, and with it, a cautiousness. Not wariness, but a mutual decision. Wait and see. Wait and see. A hesitation. But not for long.
It was a gentle meeting of mouths, chaste and unhurried. But for all their outer stillness, there was a current, an underlying question: how far can I push? And there was also an answer, (at least a little farther) which was just as essential now as it would have been, if this kiss were their first.
One: Well-Timed
It had all the dramatic timing of a first kiss. But it wasn’t, not quite.
Bones grabbed him outside of the transporter room, before Jim left for the Narada. And he couldn’t say ‘don’t’ - though he wanted to. But he didn’t try, because they’d just started something new and fragile, and because Bones was tired of hurling himself against the wall of Jim’s infuriating rightness.
So he didn’t ask, didn’t forbid. Just grabbed, and held, and when it melted naturally into a kiss, he put all his worry and longing and hope into it, everything he needed Jim to know before he left.
And when it broke, Jim looked at him with such longing - not to continue, but to stay. To stay with Bones, in that instant of peace inside a hurricane. He might have broken, if Bones had asked; probably not, but he might have. But Bones didn’t ask.
It was a perfect moment for a first kiss, or the last.
Zero - and the one that was
There was no hint of a beginning, and it wasn’t a promise of many more to come. It barely qualified as private; plain luck put them in an empty hallway outside the controlled chaos of Sickbay. And maybe it was the adrenaline high of his unexpected and near-fatal free fall, or his grief for the billions lost on Vulcan, or the serendipity of their solitude. Or maybe it was simple, bone-deep gratitude that made Jim whisper, “Thank you, Bones, God, thank you,” and pull him in for the kiss.
It was sloppy, and needy, and a little uncomfortable. Their heights made it awkward; Jim was accustomed to bending further, and Bones unused to leaning up, and Jim’s grip on Bones’ stunned and acquiescent arms was fierce and unromantic.
Bones’ mouth was a little too dry, or Jim’s was slightly too wet. And it would be an understatement to call the timing poor. As far as kisses went, it was neither of their best. But it was the first. Even without a trace of sweetness, without the time for hesitancy or the mood for passion or the self-awareness for fear, it was the first, and always would be. And it was cherished, and sacred, and beautiful just for that.