A Matter of Time, part 7/10
Title:A Matter of Time part 7/10
warnings angst, romance, underage teen sex, references to miscarriage, implied physical abuse to a minor, some mild violence
Rating: nc-17 throughout
Word Count: this part approx 6,400 words (of 65,700)
summary An AU set in the Trek universe which explores a different beginning for Jim and Bones. Leonard McCoy suffers from chrono impairment, a genetic disease which causes him to time travel against his will. When teenage McCoy travels back in time and meets Jim Kirk aged six, in a meadow in Iowa, it is the beginning of a close friendship which will mark both their lives forever. The story tracks Kirk and McCoy’s relationship, McCoy’s search for a cure and Jim’s path to finding himself.
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Part 7
"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else -- if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
2256- San Francisco: Leonard is 29, Jim is 23
Leonard
Leonard’s as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of chairs. Seeing Sarek in the flesh, well it’s like meeting all royalty rolled into one. The guy’s tall and imposing, with chiseled features right off a Roman coin. Now he’s got him to compare to Spock, Leonard realizes Spock’s an open book compared to your average Vulcan. Maybe it’s his human blood, or maybe human ways have rubbed off on him, but…Leonard glances at Jim sitting beside him and clears his throat.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me Mr. Ambassador, I know you are extremely busy.”
Sarek nods. “Who is your companion, Doctor McCoy?”
“I’m Jim, Jim Kirk, sir. McCoy wanted me to help make his case.”
“You have a case, Doctor? My understanding was that you were merely interested in my research.”
“Well, that’s true but I wanted to be able to make a case for your assistance in controlling my disorder.”
“How so?”
Damn, this wasn’t taking the turn Leonard had planned. “Well sir, see I’m interested in the Det’hnih’di sure enough, but there’s more. I was hoping that you’d be able to enlighten me on ways to control my jumping some.”
“By ‘jumping’ I presume you are alluding to your alleged time-travel?”
Alleged? Leonard senses Jim prickle beside him.
“Yes, sir. At the moment I have sporadic, tenuous control over when I travel. Mostly, I want to prevent it happening at all. In most cases, it’s triggered by acute stress, fear or anger - and I jump. If I can anticipate, or forward plan, I can often prevent it from happening, essentially by taking an elixir of my Grandmother’s invention - it’s a tranquillizer of sorts. However, it has unpleasant side-effects, memory loss…” and despite being a medic, this is about him, dammit, Leonard feels himself color, “…impotence and, on occasion, intense nightmares. The elixir is metabolized quickly, and I have had to increase the dose over the past few years.
“There are less desirable methods to control the condition which are not compatible with my field of work: regular tranquillizers, which, those that are more effective leave me drowsy and don’t agree with me; alcohol helps some, and I don’t need to explain why that’s not a good idea. And, I can’t mix. Truth is, nothing works all of the time.”
“What else?” Sarek sounds neither interested nor disinterested, but hell, Leonard’s still here, isn’t he?
He wishes he could have taken a tranquillizer on top of his double-dose of Drink Me but he really doesn’t need to shit into his cadet reds. “I breathe, sir.”
“And that is effective?”
“To a certain extent. Oh, and I run, sir - a lot.”
“Physical activity is meditative.”
“I guess it is.” Fuck his mouth’s dry.
“Therefore, controlling the emotions effectively would be useful.” Sarek thinks a moment. “Have you tried meditation, Doctor?”
“It doesn’t suit me, sir.”
“That is most illogical - you say anxiety is a trigger and meditation is an effective way of controlling the emotions.”
Leonard feels himself getting a little angry here, wants to say what the fuck do Vulcan’s know about emotion anyways when, maybe because Jim can sense his change in mood, he speaks up for the first time.
“If I may, Mr. Ambassador, McCoy is… does not wish to subjugate all his emotions. It’s not the human way. We need to feel in order to have a sense of wholeness.”
“I am familiar with the human attachment to emotions, Cadet Kirk, but in this case if Doctor McCoy would be willing to learn some detachment, it will help.”
“We are aware that Vulcans have highly developed meditative techniques and, if you were willing to share some of those, I’m sure McCoy would rethink, maybe give it a try?”
“I would?” McCoy frowns at Jim and when Jim widens his eyes in warning, he takes a breath and adjusts his tone. “I would,” he repeats, looking to Sarek, nodding in case that wasn’t clear.
“It is no concern of mine whether you meditate or not, Doctor. You asked for my guidance and I have given it. I have further questions.”
“Feel free-”
Sarek then questions him about the times Leonard’s jumped - where he’s ended up and McCoy gives him a brief outline of various jumps including his first, aged 9 after the boating accident, his first time seeing Jim, the half dozen times he’s returned to his father’s deathbed but always too late.
“And have you ascertained a pattern to these ‘jumps’ as you call them?”
“They’re nearly always to someone I’m deeply connected to: my father; my Grandmother, and Jim of course.” Leonard watches as Sarek makes a brief note on his PADD.
“Then there are those jumps that make no ‘sense’. An example is the times I jumped to Iowa. It was as if, and I really can’t think of a better way of putting this, it was as if I was trying to meet Jim, that maybe I kept getting it ‘wrong’ somehow, had to keep trying - then I made it.” His voice almost breaks as he says this, and Leonard can feel Jim’s eyes boring into the side of his face.
“What is the nature of your connection to Cadet Kirk?”
“I’m not sure, sir. Well, I’m sure of how it is now, in the present, but I have no idea in hell how it was I landed in that meadow all those years ago, why I should jump there in the first place. In fact, the memory’s only just come back to me in recent months. How could I forget something like that?”
“Are you bonded?” Sarek asks, the question so unexpected Leonard is momentarily struck dumb. How the hell does he explain what Jim is to him, what he is to Jim?
“Yes, sir, we are,” Jim says, his voice even, certain.
Leonard turns to look at him, this kid who surprises him every day, sitting in that chair totally un-intimidated by Sarek’s presence, like he was born to talk to diplomats and Admirals. Jim glances at Leonard and he sees Jim’s eye twitch, like he’s just managed to stop himself winking.
”In the sense that we are committed to each other,” Jim adds. “This McCoy, and an older version of himself, have taken care of me since I was a kid.”
“Fascinating,” Sarek says, “It appears that you have a desire to return to certain times and locations which leads me to conclude that you have more control over your traveling than you realize.”
“Well, yeah, there are places I want to go, but it’s not like I up and decide to visit Jim in say, ’53 and next thing I’m there,” Leonard says with a frown. “I have repeatedly returned to certain events in the past, events that haven’t been favorable. It’s as if I want to do something, change things. The drive to get there seems to work in some ways, but I have no conscious control over where I jump.”
“And have you ever succeeded in changing past events through your intervention, Doctor? You mentioned how you returned to your father’s death-bed.”
“Only when it comes to Jim, sir. Even so, it’s only subtle change - for example, lately I returned to Jim when he was a young adolescent. I knew he would have to endure suffering, there would be a crisis, where he would be…forgive me, sir, I would rather not reveal the details but, the long and the short of it is, I went back and taught him skills, gave him knowledge he needed to deal with…the ‘crisis’. But, sir, I didn’t decide to go back - it’s like…” Leonard grips the arm of the chair as he tries to think how to put it, “I’m ‘pulled’ there by something else…”
“So he can’t change what happened to me, but he has had some success in helping me survive mentally. Like the times he taught me how to fight - so I could stand up for myself around the school bullies.” Jim glances at him again sending a flush through him.
“Yet, Doctor, you were unable to prevent your past self from assisting your father’s death no matter on how many occasions you returned?”
“I always arrived too late, sir. My father ‘always’ died. He contracted pyrrhoneuritus and…” Leonard falters, “…a cure was found months after he died. My older self attempted to return and warn me but, each time he arrived, it was too late or the location of his jump was geographically too far away for him to make it to me in time to stop me turning off the life-support.” Leonard sighs, wishes he had a glass of water because his tongue seems to want to fix to the roof of his mouth. “Sometimes I’m thinking that certain things are meant.”
“It would appear so,” Sarek says to Leonard’s surprise. “It would also appear that you have more control than you realize. Some part of you understands how to steer your movement in time but your conscious connection to this knowledge is crude, reduced to animal instinct. I am certain we can find a way to train your mind so that you can ‘jump’ more effectively.
“As to the pattern, I will need to ask you a great many more questions before the three of us can begin to solve this enigma. Unfortunately, I will have to meet with you at another time. I have a pressing engagement in two point four hours for which I require preparation.
“Meanwhile, I will forward some reading material to you and I will maintain communication. While I do not doubt the veracity of your time-travel - if you could provide me with evidence, I would be most interested.”
“But, Mr. Ambassador-”
“It’s okay, Bones, we’ve got plenty to go on for now and we’ve got all the time in the world,” Jim says rising to his feet and saluting Sarek. Leonard doesn’t move. “Come on, Bones, we really should go…”
Leonard stands up, it’s daring he knows but this is important. He takes a step towards the desk, leans on it and whispers to Sarek, so as Jim can’t hear.
“Sir, I have melded with someone you know and he, this person, has information for you that will help us. He assures me it is of great import and that it will give us some insight into the ‘why’ of all this.”
Sarek’s face is impassive, but he hasn’t interrupted so Leonard continues. “This Vulcan assures me that a mind-meld will ‘deliver’ this information package. At the same time I shouldn’t be made entirely aware of the content. If you give me some more time, sir, you will know what is driving my jumps, because, sir, trust me, it’s not just about where I want to go. It’s Jim - I believe he’s the centre of all this. I don’t have any evidence for that, it’s just a feeling in my bones, but I can’t let him know that because, well, it wouldn’t be right. I need to meet with you again, alone next time.”
Leonard looks over his shoulder at Jim who’s frowning, confused by his secrecy and he feels like shit, hates keeping things from him.
Leonard’s been feeling worse and worse over the past minute; the meeting’s gone on longer than he anticipated, and they’d had to wait half an hour before Sarek could see them and now, damn - his hand flies to his collar, trying to get some air - he lurches away from Sarek’s desk, his chest heaving, sweat prickling his scalp.
He can feel his head emptying like a burst balloon and the room starting to spin and he breathes, yeah he breathes, but fuck it, what more proof can he come up with of how urgent this is?
The room dissolves before him and, the next thing he knows, Sarek and Jim’s faces have gone and everything’s white, particles of light and images swirling around him as if he’s falling through a snow storm, head down, limbs flailing for purchase. He cries out, his voice useless and frail against the roaring in his head, the wind of time screaming around his weak body.
A tsunami surges through him, carrying him, and he flips like a fish in the ocean, spasms of nausea making him retch and heave in protest.
Leonard’s head cracks against a hard surface and he’s landed . Fuck, he thinks, gotta get up, gotta run and mercifully it’s nighttime; he’s in a store front, out of sight. Safe. For now.
+++
Jim
Jim stares as Leonard’s uniform crumples to the floor before them, grips his head and leaps to his feet uselessly.
Sarek walks to the front of the desk, picks up the clothing and hands it to him. Jim’s fingers grip the fabric - it’s warm still and he can smell Bones as if he’s still in the room.
“How long will he be absent, Cadet Kirk?”
Jim shakes his head, trembling a little. Whenever he’s witnessed Bones jump it’s always freaked him out; the look of horror, helplessness on his face; and he hates that he can’t stop him. Once Jim tried to grab Bones, as if human contact would somehow abort the jump but, feeling Bones skin dissolve in his hands, the heat of his body evaporate, smelling the sweat and fear just before Bones disappeared through his fingers like water - it’s…
“We have to stop this, sir,” he almost shouts, his voice echoing around them. “He’s gonna get himself killed if this isn’t fixed. It’s only a matter of time.”
Sarek leans over his desk and presses the comm button and speaks in standard for Jim’s benefit: “Serron, I will be unable to attend my meeting. Offer my apologies to Ambassador Gopal and reschedule my meeting with her. Now, Cadet Kirk,” he says, indicating Jim sit down again. “It appears we have a great deal to discuss.”
+++
Iowa, January 16th, 2251: Leonard is (29)
Leonard manages to push himself up onto all fours before he pukes, his head lurching at the force of it. He wipes his mouth and staggers to his feet, skulking back in the store’s doorway.
The street’s quiet and he shivers, wraps his arms around himself, considers trying the door but knows he’ll set off the alarms. He presses his nose against the glass and scans the interior for anything he can steal to wear but, it’s a lottery outlet, the numbers for the past draw displayed above the counter beneath a lurid green neon IOWA POWERBALL - which hurts his eyes so he looks away. Iowa be damned with its horrific climate. He wonders how the hell he’s going to get out of this in one piece or at least before his dick drops off since it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table. Then, as if he’d rubbed the magic lamp or something, and isn’t that just peachy - he’s been yanked up by the invisible threads controlling him, he’s spinning again and gone.
+++
Riverside - January 15th, 2251. Jim is 18, Leonard is (29)
Jim
Jim’s settled on his couch for a rare evening in. He’s got no one he wants to be with tonight - the most hated date in his calendar - Bones notwithstanding, but he hasn’t seen him in months, and Jim’s getting a niggle in the back of his mind that maybe something bad’s happened to him. He knows Bones’ grandmother jumped and never came back and this is the longest they’ve ever been separated, other than when he was on Tarsus.
He’s not sure what time it is when he wakes to the sound of the TV, some ancient Orion soap shaking the set, and half a glass of bourbon’s slipped from his grip, making the cotton of his t stick to his chest. His mouth tastes like shit, his head’s fuzzy and he’s glad this day’s almost over.
He starts when he hears a knock on his door - no one ever visits Jim and he sure as hell never invites any of his drinking and pool buddies round. Any talking they’ve got to do happens over booze.
Jim saunters to the door, sure it’s just a neighbor gonna ask him to turn the TV down. His jaw almost hits his chest when he sees Bones leaning on the door jam, flecks of melting snow on his shoulders and hair and a grin wider than a harbor on his beautiful mouth.
“Happy birthday, kid,” he drawls and fuck, it’s good to hear that voice, see the goofy eyebrow waggle. Wonders how Bones even knows it’s his birthday, decides he must have seen it somewhere - after all, he’s had time to search out clothing.
“Jesus, Bones, how long you been here?” Jim grabs his arm and drags him into his room, stares at Bones like he’s an apparition. Jim bounces on his heels, like he needs to pee or something, which he totally doesn’t but wouldn’t admit to if he did, since he’s not prepared to let Bones out of his sight just yet.
“Few hours. I’d’ve come sooner but I needed to go see my tailor first.” Bones indicates his clothing with a dramatic sweep of his hands.
“Very nice,” Jim grins. “I’m really liking the pajamas, lime green sneakers and raincoat effect. It’s very…” he searches for one of his friend, Davina’s sayings, she’s always got her nose in the latest, “…fashion forward!”
Bones rolls his eyes. “Yeah, those bags o’ shit dumped outside thrift stores are brim full o’ the finest autumn/winter look,” Bones grins.
Fuck, Bones actually looks happy, Jim thinks, and he hopes it must be because he’s made it to see him.
“You wanna give me your coat, or are you cold?”
“I’ll keep it on, just till my stones come back down outta my body, if that’s all the same to you, kid.”
Jim’s desperate to hug Bones, but the last few times they’ve seen each other, over the past two years, Bones has seemed particularly reticent about touching him. Jim reckons it’s Bones’ natural reaction to Jim’s barely concealed determination to seduce him, remaining unspoken since a few years ago when Jim made every one of Bones’ jumps to him an argument or accusation of some kind. Jim colors at the memories, ashamed that in those days he spoke to Bones much as he spoke to that bastard Frank, when Bones has been the only who’s ever shown he really gives a shit.
And yeah, of late, Jim’s been sure to take every opportunity to appear semi-dressed around Leonard, ‘accidently on purpose’, emerging out of the shower with a poorly draped towel around his hips, licking his lips, faking innocent, and he’s noticed how Bones has looked a little too long at him, eyes flicking away, changed the subject. Yeah, he’s too much of a gentleman to make a move on Jim until he’s of age; he’s said that with every push away, real or in tone for years; and meanwhile, Jim’s fucked or been fucked by scores of others - all of them a rehearsal or as stand-ins for Bones.
Jim pour a drink, ignores the eye-roll that he should even have alcohol in the room, knows he won’t have another drink all night because, birthday or not, Jim’s not having Bones’ disapproval about under-age drinking harshing his new-found high, not now it actually feels like a birthday should.
Jim fetches a glass of tap water, watches Bones knock back the bourbon in two gulps, and sits on the couch a few centimeters from Bones who’s still wrapped in his stolen coat. “You should brush your teeth, Bones, you stink, man.”
Bones nods and saunters to the sink in the kitchenette. “Yeah, that puke cologne o’ mine sure sticks.” He brushes his teeth with Jim’s brush, spitting a few times, running the water from the tap directly into his mouth. “Shit, you been pissing in here again, Jim? What’ve I told you about that?”
Jim smirks. “I hate to go across the hall in the night, you know that. If I’d expected you, I’d have cleaned up.”
Bones scans the room. “Yeah, I’ll make sure and call next time,” he sighs dramatically. “Thing is you’d need at least a month’s notice to get this place looking something less than a hog’s ass.”
Jim laughs. “Fuck I’m just stoked to see you, Bones. I was starting to worry, in case-”
“-Nah, I’m fine, kid, always fine.” But Jim notices how Bones’ eyes flicker to the side briefly, like he’s remembering something he isn’t going to mention.
Bones searches deep in both pockets and pulls out both hands in a fist shape, knuckles up. “Come here,” he says and Jim’s cock twitches at his tone. He strolls the few steps towards Bones and looks at his hands, up at Bones’ arched eyebrow trying to look cool while his heart’s thumping.
“You got me a present?”
“You sound like a kid sometimes, you know that?”
Jim lifts his chin in annoyance then smiles, “I’m no kid, Bones. I’m eighteen as of oh-two-hundred.”
Bones nods at his hand. “Come on, kid, before I get cramp.”
Jim licks his lips while he thinks, then taps the hand to his left and watches eagerly while Bones unfurls it in super-slow motion. There’s a data chip nestled in his palm. Jim takes it carefully, sees the IOWA POWERBALL logo on it and frowns. “What is it?”
“A fuckin’ Cadillac. What the hell do you think it is?”
“But, Bones…” Jim suddenly feels short of breath - this is too much.
“Shut up. There’s got to be some bonus to this goddamn situation.” His words may be severe, but Bones voice is warmer than hot chocolate. He gazes at Jim, lips quirking, waiting for a further reaction.
“Should I check the numbers?” Jim finally says, feeling a little stupid because he just knows there’s no need.
“Up to you, but since I’ve just ‘enjoyed’ one of those rare double-jumps of mine, I think you’ll find your birthday present isn’t a dud.”
“What happened?”
“I up and landed in a store front, saw the winning numbers. Naturally, I wasn’t thinking about lotteries at the time, just the fact that I was naked and it was snowing, but and thanks to my photographic memory, when I then jumped again, back a day, I decided to get some reward for all the shit for once.”
Jim allows the drawled tones to seep through him, transfixed by those fucking amazing eyebrows, doing a little dance number as Bones continues.
“I stole some poor bastard’s credit chip earlier, bought the lottery ticket, dropped the credit chip down a drain ‘case it fell into the wrong hands, and- oof!” Bones exclaims when Jim’s got him in a bear hug.
Then he let’s go, drinking in Bones’ amused face. Jim shoulders him - just so Bones knows he’s only guying around; doesn’t think he’s trying to touch in any other way - though, maybe he is that too.
“For the record, the weather’s gonna be shit tomorrow too,” Bones adds drily, pushing his hands back into his coat pockets.
“A double-jump? Seems…well…weird.”
“Like I said, everything’s weird about this - it’s the Powers that Be, Jim.”
Jim’s heard Bones talk about the Powers that Be before, knows it’s a euphemism for the chaotic nature of his time-travelling life, how it sums up how Bones feels manipulated, toyed with by his lot.
“Well, yeah, it’s about time the Bastards that Be delivered for once.”
“I’m not disagreeing there, kid.”
Jim places the chip in the inside pocket of his leather jacket and dives onto the couch, sprawls on his back, one foot on the floor. “Hey, you gonna take that coat off?” He can’t help it, but his voice is husky, knows Bones notices too.
Bones stares at him, unbuttons the coat and drops it on a chair, stands in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Jim watches him run a hand through his still damp hair and allows his mouth to fall open a little at the sight of Bones arms flexing in the faded, crumpled t-shirt.
“You still cold?” he asks, his voice a slight croak.
“Maybe a little,” Bones says blinking.
“It’s warm over here.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh…”
“Shall I come over there, then?”
Jim nods, his heart’s sliding up into his throat as he watches Bones saunter towards him, then loom above him until Jim extends a hand which Bones clasps with both of his. Jim shuffles up against the arm rest, and Bones allows himself to be pulled down so he’s sitting in the small area of couch between Jim’s legs. So this is what a pregnant pause feels like.His heart thuds when their eyes meet. Fuck it - it’s now or never, so-
“Wanted you for so long,” Jim whispers, his hands finally moving to curl into Leonard’s shirt, clinging to him. “Belong to you-“ Shit, he’s waited almost his whole life.
“Shush, Jim,” Bones’ voice is as quiet as his. “I know…” His eyes are dark as he examines Jim’s face, “I know…” And Jim understands he has to be the one makes the first move to quell Bones’ fears that he might be taking advantage. But he has to know…
“You want me, right? You’re not just feeling sorry for me?”
Bones shakes his head. “Used to, when you were all bashed up and hurtin’, but I’ve learned you can take care of yourself, when it counts. Shit, Jim, you’re a man now.”
Jim closes his eyes, strokes up to broad shoulders, guides him closer so Bones chest presses close. He can hear himself breathing, can smell the bourbon on those lips, so near, can feel each gentle exhalation as he leans closer; and Bones still isn’t touching him with those hands he’s fantasized about in forever, still waiting to be asked in.
In a daze of lust and need, Jim half opens his eyes and brings his lips to that strong, stubbled jaw, plants a gentle kiss, inhaling the other man’s scent, moving to the corner of that precious mouth and shifts his lips so he’s resting them on the slight upward curve.
“Fuck,” Jim sighs, so quiet he wonders whether Bones can even hear him. “Want you so bad…”
“You’ve got me, it’s okay, I’m here.” And finally Bones’ weight sags onto him, anchoring him in place.
The kiss is sweet, gentle, close-mouthed and Jim lets out a disbelieving breath, drops his cheekbone to Bones' chin, just breathes against him while Bones strokes his hair, while Jim mutters against skin he’s wanted to touch, wanted to taste for so long.
“Bones…” he pleads.
And Bones spreads his fingers, supports Jim’s head and makes a tentative move with his tongue, sending a shock of fire through him. Again, Jim just breathes, frightened Bones will maybe change his mind. He opens his mouth, inviting him in and, “Fuck, Bones,” comes out muffled as he thumbs the corners of Jim’s mouth to gain access and his tongue, finally Jesus, touches Jim’s, warm and sure.
Bones pushes Jim’s leg further up the back of the couch, nudges the foot on the floor with his so he’s got more room and leans harder across Jim’s body, his hand on the arm-rest while he contemplates him. He can feel hardness against his thigh, and for the first time in his entire sexual experience, Jim feels self-conscious, worried he’ll disappoint. His arms flop uselessly to his side and he watches Bones rake his eyes over him; wonders, hopes if he’s being compared to an older version of himself that Bones has intimated about. From little snippets of information, he believes they’ll meet in ‘real’ time; one day he’ll have Bones with him - he won’t disappear after minutes or hours. He hates his multi-tasking mind, wonders why the fuck he’s not just sinking deep into every moment when their time together’s so precious, so fleeting.
Jim arches off the couch when Bones rests warm fingers on his stomach where his t’s ridden up. “Bones,” he says, looking down at those hands that have held him so many times when he’s cried, known when to hold back, have clenched when Jim’s raged against the universe, that removed that bee sting the first time they met. Jim clasps them in his and brings them to his face, kisses them slowly, the knuckles, the palms then sucking a thumb into his mouth, watching in delight when Bones hisses through his teeth.
A coil of arousal twists through Jim, moving him to wriggle out from under Bones, push him to a seated position and straddle his thighs. Instinct tells him to guide Bones through this, to seal this bond. He knows Bones well enough to get he’s fragile when he travels, and Jim needs to ground him, so he snakes his arms around Bones neck and presses his chest to his face.
“Undress me, Bones, I’m yours, it’s okay.”
Bones gazes up at him, eyes dark and hooded with arousal, and nods, pulls Jim’s t-shirt up and away and presses his mouth to Jim’s skin. “Fuck, kid…you’re just…” and licks a hot tongue along to one nipple, flicks at it, then sits back and strokes his hands down Jim’s sides till they rest at his hips.
“Come on, Bones,” Jim pleads and guides Bones to his waistband until he’s unbuttoned his jeans. Jim pushes those beautiful hands so Bones understands that he needs to release his cock before he comes in his pants, and kneels up to give him access. Bones takes his eyes off Jim’s face for the first time in forever to glance down as he releases him, a slight frown on his face that mystifies Jim. He doesn’t probe, doesn’t want to spoil the moment, so stands up unsteadily to allow Bones to push his jeans down. He steps out, suddenly filled with his customary confidence when Bones moans in approval.
His cock’s almost flush with his belly and Jim takes Bones by the hand and pulls him to standing, pressing against him for a long, gentle, needy kiss while he undresses Bones, pulling away irritably each time he needs to make room to maneuver away damp, musky clothing. Jim realizes he’s never seen Bones in anything but stolen items and wonders what it would be like to see the real man, dressed in his scrubs, or a suit, slobbing around in sweats or naked like this every day. He’s never seen him aroused before, never had license to touch him like this, and these last few years of wanting, needing Bones and, finally this is it - the sense of joy is almost snuffed out by a sudden panic that Bones might jump before they’re through.
“Just wait, okay, wait!” and Jim rushes to his unmade bed to root around under the pillow for some lube and a condom.
Bones smiles at him when he realizes what he’s got in his hand and takes the tube from him, unstops it and rests it on the couch. He sits down so his face is level with Jim’s cock and Jim’s standing between his legs, his hands twisting in dark, thick hair.
Jim throws his head back when he feels sure fingers stroking through his pubic hair, tracing lines on his inner thigh, stroking and weighing his balls. Jim’s always in control when he fucks, alcohol and the occasional drug use notwithstanding; always aware just where he stands on his line of arousal so that he can satisfy his partner. But when lush lips stretch around the head of his cock, Jim freezes, realizing he’s seconds away from coming.
“Bones, stop, seriously, man - I’m gonna shoot my load if you don’t stop; don’t wanna waste tonight, okay?”
“Okay, let’s go to bed then,” Bones growls, picking up the lube and condom and pushing Jim before him.
Bones stretches out on the tiny bed, parts his legs and puts his hands under his head, all gift wrap gone, obvious in what he wants to happen now. Jim promises that next time he’s going to give Bones a full picture of his skills as a lover but now, fuck it, it’s his damned birthday and he’s going to go for gold. He tears open the foil with his teeth and rolls the condom onto his desperate cock, gives it a squeeze at the base because seriously, he’s still just a breath from coming. He lubes up as gently as he can then kneels between Bones’ thighs, running a slippery finger around his entrance.
Then he sees it.
“Bones?”
Bones looks down at Jim’s hand tracing the tattoo where his inner thigh meets hip, a cluster of three blue, nautical stars. Naked eyes meet his and Jim drops his head and lathes his tongue across the design, grasping Bones’ cock while he mumbles into the warm, musky skin.
“I can’t bring you with me when I jump, but this is part of me, like…”
But Jim doesn’t need to hear the end of this sentence, what he needs is to devour those lips, kiss those eyes, hold this incredible man, his guardian angel. And his mouth is raw, bruised when Bones wriggles free so he, both of them can breathe.
“Jesus,” Bones says, “get on with it already.”
“Coming right up, old man,” Jim smirks, delighting in how Bones moans when his finger slides in right up to the third knuckle, eyes on Bones’ face the whole time. He works his finger in and out while gently stroking Bones’ impressive cock with the other hand. He doesn’t want to rush him, wondering if he’s as close as he is.
“More,” Bones insists, grabbing Jim’s arm to help, so Jim obliges, moaning in response to how two fingers look twisting into that muscular ass, how Bones pulls his legs up to his chest to give Jim access. Christ, he never imagined it would be like this, that he’d be the one in control in this situation. Bones is showing nothing but trust in him, allowing him to explore skin he’s wanted for so long, making himself a birthday gift, pliable, giving, allowing Jim to fulfill every fantasy he’s held for years by submitting to him. He’d like to give his own cock a reassuring tug, but as it is, Jim doesn’t have enough hands to cover every inch of tan, lightly haired skin before him, his mouth can’t reach enough areas quickly enough to worship and bless and explore. He’s consumed with joy - he’s waited so long, so long…
The moment Jim’s cock breaches the tight hole is so fucking overwhelming that Jim’s sure his heart’s gonna burst right through his ribs and land between them. He grins at the image, earning a quirk of the eyebrow from the gorgeous bastard beneath him.
“Somethin’ amusing you?” The southern drawl in full fettle now Jim’s got Bones where he wants.
“I’m just happy,” Jim manages to force out, pushing in a little further then more when Bones smiles back and cranes up to kiss him. Their mouths fuse as they kiss, Jim’s tongue moving in time with his thrusts as Bones loosens around him and Bones is gasping wantonly as Jim finds that spot inside him when he changes angle.
“Gonna come, Bones,” Jim gasps, heat building in his belly. “Fuck, so good, so good…”
“Yeah,” and legs clamp around him, hands guide his hips to move faster until Jim stills and comes harder than he has ever, for what seems like an eternity, mumbling his need and want into Bones mouth. He’s dimly aware that maybe Bones has come too and feels a twinge of guilt that he’s lost track; but shit, he’ll do better next time. He slumps onto the hard chest below him realizing with relief that there’s a slick of come on Bones’ belly even though his hands have not loosened their grip on Jim’s hips.
“Holy fuck,” he says resting his chin wearily on Bones’ shoulder, “I mean - fuck.”
“Well, sure - just gimme a minute to recover, kid-“ Bones chuckles, and Jim shuts him up with another kiss.
+++
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a great believer in the educational system, Bones.”
Bones pushes up onto an elbow and regards Jim’s face with a scowl. “You ever think you’re wasting your life, kid? Shit you’re so damned smart…”
“I don’t need to go back to school, I’m fine.” Way to ruin the post-coital snuggling; thanks Bones. But Jim knew it would come up, how he’d spend the lottery money.
Bones is silent for a moment. They’re lying side by side facing each other, Jim’s head resting on Bones’ arm; his hand in Jim’s hair. “I’m sorry - you’ll do whatever you think’s right, sorry.” But it’s a growl.
“That’s me, Bones.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Bones crooks his arm so his face is inches from his, mossy eyes earnest. “Just look after yourself, alright, put it in a trust fund or something…”
Something cold clutches at Jim’s heart. “What?” he says. “Tell me.”
Bones sighs, flops onto his back. “I can’t see you for a while…quite a while.”
“No!” Jim grabs Bones’ face. “Don’t say that - I’ll fucking die.”
“No you won’t Jim. Look, it’s out of my hands, you know that - I just thought I’d better warn you in case, you know…”
“In case what, Bones, what?” Fuck - can’t he have anything, anyone for himself?
Bones brings his mouth close, breath moist and warm against Jim’s lips. “In case you were enough of a dumbass to think I didn’t love you, that’s what.”
Oh. Oh.
on to part 8
warnings angst, romance, underage teen sex, references to miscarriage, implied physical abuse to a minor, some mild violence
Rating: nc-17 throughout
Word Count: this part approx 6,400 words (of 65,700)
summary An AU set in the Trek universe which explores a different beginning for Jim and Bones. Leonard McCoy suffers from chrono impairment, a genetic disease which causes him to time travel against his will. When teenage McCoy travels back in time and meets Jim Kirk aged six, in a meadow in Iowa, it is the beginning of a close friendship which will mark both their lives forever. The story tracks Kirk and McCoy’s relationship, McCoy’s search for a cure and Jim’s path to finding himself.
link to FIC masterpost HERE
link to ART - to follow by anoncomment7
link to fanmix by leighblack
Part 7
"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else -- if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"
2256- San Francisco: Leonard is 29, Jim is 23
Leonard
Leonard’s as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of chairs. Seeing Sarek in the flesh, well it’s like meeting all royalty rolled into one. The guy’s tall and imposing, with chiseled features right off a Roman coin. Now he’s got him to compare to Spock, Leonard realizes Spock’s an open book compared to your average Vulcan. Maybe it’s his human blood, or maybe human ways have rubbed off on him, but…Leonard glances at Jim sitting beside him and clears his throat.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me Mr. Ambassador, I know you are extremely busy.”
Sarek nods. “Who is your companion, Doctor McCoy?”
“I’m Jim, Jim Kirk, sir. McCoy wanted me to help make his case.”
“You have a case, Doctor? My understanding was that you were merely interested in my research.”
“Well, that’s true but I wanted to be able to make a case for your assistance in controlling my disorder.”
“How so?”
Damn, this wasn’t taking the turn Leonard had planned. “Well sir, see I’m interested in the Det’hnih’di sure enough, but there’s more. I was hoping that you’d be able to enlighten me on ways to control my jumping some.”
“By ‘jumping’ I presume you are alluding to your alleged time-travel?”
Alleged? Leonard senses Jim prickle beside him.
“Yes, sir. At the moment I have sporadic, tenuous control over when I travel. Mostly, I want to prevent it happening at all. In most cases, it’s triggered by acute stress, fear or anger - and I jump. If I can anticipate, or forward plan, I can often prevent it from happening, essentially by taking an elixir of my Grandmother’s invention - it’s a tranquillizer of sorts. However, it has unpleasant side-effects, memory loss…” and despite being a medic, this is about him, dammit, Leonard feels himself color, “…impotence and, on occasion, intense nightmares. The elixir is metabolized quickly, and I have had to increase the dose over the past few years.
“There are less desirable methods to control the condition which are not compatible with my field of work: regular tranquillizers, which, those that are more effective leave me drowsy and don’t agree with me; alcohol helps some, and I don’t need to explain why that’s not a good idea. And, I can’t mix. Truth is, nothing works all of the time.”
“What else?” Sarek sounds neither interested nor disinterested, but hell, Leonard’s still here, isn’t he?
He wishes he could have taken a tranquillizer on top of his double-dose of Drink Me but he really doesn’t need to shit into his cadet reds. “I breathe, sir.”
“And that is effective?”
“To a certain extent. Oh, and I run, sir - a lot.”
“Physical activity is meditative.”
“I guess it is.” Fuck his mouth’s dry.
“Therefore, controlling the emotions effectively would be useful.” Sarek thinks a moment. “Have you tried meditation, Doctor?”
“It doesn’t suit me, sir.”
“That is most illogical - you say anxiety is a trigger and meditation is an effective way of controlling the emotions.”
Leonard feels himself getting a little angry here, wants to say what the fuck do Vulcan’s know about emotion anyways when, maybe because Jim can sense his change in mood, he speaks up for the first time.
“If I may, Mr. Ambassador, McCoy is… does not wish to subjugate all his emotions. It’s not the human way. We need to feel in order to have a sense of wholeness.”
“I am familiar with the human attachment to emotions, Cadet Kirk, but in this case if Doctor McCoy would be willing to learn some detachment, it will help.”
“We are aware that Vulcans have highly developed meditative techniques and, if you were willing to share some of those, I’m sure McCoy would rethink, maybe give it a try?”
“I would?” McCoy frowns at Jim and when Jim widens his eyes in warning, he takes a breath and adjusts his tone. “I would,” he repeats, looking to Sarek, nodding in case that wasn’t clear.
“It is no concern of mine whether you meditate or not, Doctor. You asked for my guidance and I have given it. I have further questions.”
“Feel free-”
Sarek then questions him about the times Leonard’s jumped - where he’s ended up and McCoy gives him a brief outline of various jumps including his first, aged 9 after the boating accident, his first time seeing Jim, the half dozen times he’s returned to his father’s deathbed but always too late.
“And have you ascertained a pattern to these ‘jumps’ as you call them?”
“They’re nearly always to someone I’m deeply connected to: my father; my Grandmother, and Jim of course.” Leonard watches as Sarek makes a brief note on his PADD.
“Then there are those jumps that make no ‘sense’. An example is the times I jumped to Iowa. It was as if, and I really can’t think of a better way of putting this, it was as if I was trying to meet Jim, that maybe I kept getting it ‘wrong’ somehow, had to keep trying - then I made it.” His voice almost breaks as he says this, and Leonard can feel Jim’s eyes boring into the side of his face.
“What is the nature of your connection to Cadet Kirk?”
“I’m not sure, sir. Well, I’m sure of how it is now, in the present, but I have no idea in hell how it was I landed in that meadow all those years ago, why I should jump there in the first place. In fact, the memory’s only just come back to me in recent months. How could I forget something like that?”
“Are you bonded?” Sarek asks, the question so unexpected Leonard is momentarily struck dumb. How the hell does he explain what Jim is to him, what he is to Jim?
“Yes, sir, we are,” Jim says, his voice even, certain.
Leonard turns to look at him, this kid who surprises him every day, sitting in that chair totally un-intimidated by Sarek’s presence, like he was born to talk to diplomats and Admirals. Jim glances at Leonard and he sees Jim’s eye twitch, like he’s just managed to stop himself winking.
”In the sense that we are committed to each other,” Jim adds. “This McCoy, and an older version of himself, have taken care of me since I was a kid.”
“Fascinating,” Sarek says, “It appears that you have a desire to return to certain times and locations which leads me to conclude that you have more control over your traveling than you realize.”
“Well, yeah, there are places I want to go, but it’s not like I up and decide to visit Jim in say, ’53 and next thing I’m there,” Leonard says with a frown. “I have repeatedly returned to certain events in the past, events that haven’t been favorable. It’s as if I want to do something, change things. The drive to get there seems to work in some ways, but I have no conscious control over where I jump.”
“And have you ever succeeded in changing past events through your intervention, Doctor? You mentioned how you returned to your father’s death-bed.”
“Only when it comes to Jim, sir. Even so, it’s only subtle change - for example, lately I returned to Jim when he was a young adolescent. I knew he would have to endure suffering, there would be a crisis, where he would be…forgive me, sir, I would rather not reveal the details but, the long and the short of it is, I went back and taught him skills, gave him knowledge he needed to deal with…the ‘crisis’. But, sir, I didn’t decide to go back - it’s like…” Leonard grips the arm of the chair as he tries to think how to put it, “I’m ‘pulled’ there by something else…”
“So he can’t change what happened to me, but he has had some success in helping me survive mentally. Like the times he taught me how to fight - so I could stand up for myself around the school bullies.” Jim glances at him again sending a flush through him.
“Yet, Doctor, you were unable to prevent your past self from assisting your father’s death no matter on how many occasions you returned?”
“I always arrived too late, sir. My father ‘always’ died. He contracted pyrrhoneuritus and…” Leonard falters, “…a cure was found months after he died. My older self attempted to return and warn me but, each time he arrived, it was too late or the location of his jump was geographically too far away for him to make it to me in time to stop me turning off the life-support.” Leonard sighs, wishes he had a glass of water because his tongue seems to want to fix to the roof of his mouth. “Sometimes I’m thinking that certain things are meant.”
“It would appear so,” Sarek says to Leonard’s surprise. “It would also appear that you have more control than you realize. Some part of you understands how to steer your movement in time but your conscious connection to this knowledge is crude, reduced to animal instinct. I am certain we can find a way to train your mind so that you can ‘jump’ more effectively.
“As to the pattern, I will need to ask you a great many more questions before the three of us can begin to solve this enigma. Unfortunately, I will have to meet with you at another time. I have a pressing engagement in two point four hours for which I require preparation.
“Meanwhile, I will forward some reading material to you and I will maintain communication. While I do not doubt the veracity of your time-travel - if you could provide me with evidence, I would be most interested.”
“But, Mr. Ambassador-”
“It’s okay, Bones, we’ve got plenty to go on for now and we’ve got all the time in the world,” Jim says rising to his feet and saluting Sarek. Leonard doesn’t move. “Come on, Bones, we really should go…”
Leonard stands up, it’s daring he knows but this is important. He takes a step towards the desk, leans on it and whispers to Sarek, so as Jim can’t hear.
“Sir, I have melded with someone you know and he, this person, has information for you that will help us. He assures me it is of great import and that it will give us some insight into the ‘why’ of all this.”
Sarek’s face is impassive, but he hasn’t interrupted so Leonard continues. “This Vulcan assures me that a mind-meld will ‘deliver’ this information package. At the same time I shouldn’t be made entirely aware of the content. If you give me some more time, sir, you will know what is driving my jumps, because, sir, trust me, it’s not just about where I want to go. It’s Jim - I believe he’s the centre of all this. I don’t have any evidence for that, it’s just a feeling in my bones, but I can’t let him know that because, well, it wouldn’t be right. I need to meet with you again, alone next time.”
Leonard looks over his shoulder at Jim who’s frowning, confused by his secrecy and he feels like shit, hates keeping things from him.
Leonard’s been feeling worse and worse over the past minute; the meeting’s gone on longer than he anticipated, and they’d had to wait half an hour before Sarek could see them and now, damn - his hand flies to his collar, trying to get some air - he lurches away from Sarek’s desk, his chest heaving, sweat prickling his scalp.
He can feel his head emptying like a burst balloon and the room starting to spin and he breathes, yeah he breathes, but fuck it, what more proof can he come up with of how urgent this is?
The room dissolves before him and, the next thing he knows, Sarek and Jim’s faces have gone and everything’s white, particles of light and images swirling around him as if he’s falling through a snow storm, head down, limbs flailing for purchase. He cries out, his voice useless and frail against the roaring in his head, the wind of time screaming around his weak body.
A tsunami surges through him, carrying him, and he flips like a fish in the ocean, spasms of nausea making him retch and heave in protest.
Leonard’s head cracks against a hard surface and he’s landed . Fuck, he thinks, gotta get up, gotta run and mercifully it’s nighttime; he’s in a store front, out of sight. Safe. For now.
+++
Jim
Jim stares as Leonard’s uniform crumples to the floor before them, grips his head and leaps to his feet uselessly.
Sarek walks to the front of the desk, picks up the clothing and hands it to him. Jim’s fingers grip the fabric - it’s warm still and he can smell Bones as if he’s still in the room.
“How long will he be absent, Cadet Kirk?”
Jim shakes his head, trembling a little. Whenever he’s witnessed Bones jump it’s always freaked him out; the look of horror, helplessness on his face; and he hates that he can’t stop him. Once Jim tried to grab Bones, as if human contact would somehow abort the jump but, feeling Bones skin dissolve in his hands, the heat of his body evaporate, smelling the sweat and fear just before Bones disappeared through his fingers like water - it’s…
“We have to stop this, sir,” he almost shouts, his voice echoing around them. “He’s gonna get himself killed if this isn’t fixed. It’s only a matter of time.”
Sarek leans over his desk and presses the comm button and speaks in standard for Jim’s benefit: “Serron, I will be unable to attend my meeting. Offer my apologies to Ambassador Gopal and reschedule my meeting with her. Now, Cadet Kirk,” he says, indicating Jim sit down again. “It appears we have a great deal to discuss.”
+++
Iowa, January 16th, 2251: Leonard is (29)
Leonard manages to push himself up onto all fours before he pukes, his head lurching at the force of it. He wipes his mouth and staggers to his feet, skulking back in the store’s doorway.
The street’s quiet and he shivers, wraps his arms around himself, considers trying the door but knows he’ll set off the alarms. He presses his nose against the glass and scans the interior for anything he can steal to wear but, it’s a lottery outlet, the numbers for the past draw displayed above the counter beneath a lurid green neon IOWA POWERBALL - which hurts his eyes so he looks away. Iowa be damned with its horrific climate. He wonders how the hell he’s going to get out of this in one piece or at least before his dick drops off since it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a pool table. Then, as if he’d rubbed the magic lamp or something, and isn’t that just peachy - he’s been yanked up by the invisible threads controlling him, he’s spinning again and gone.
+++
Riverside - January 15th, 2251. Jim is 18, Leonard is (29)
Jim
Jim’s settled on his couch for a rare evening in. He’s got no one he wants to be with tonight - the most hated date in his calendar - Bones notwithstanding, but he hasn’t seen him in months, and Jim’s getting a niggle in the back of his mind that maybe something bad’s happened to him. He knows Bones’ grandmother jumped and never came back and this is the longest they’ve ever been separated, other than when he was on Tarsus.
He’s not sure what time it is when he wakes to the sound of the TV, some ancient Orion soap shaking the set, and half a glass of bourbon’s slipped from his grip, making the cotton of his t stick to his chest. His mouth tastes like shit, his head’s fuzzy and he’s glad this day’s almost over.
He starts when he hears a knock on his door - no one ever visits Jim and he sure as hell never invites any of his drinking and pool buddies round. Any talking they’ve got to do happens over booze.
Jim saunters to the door, sure it’s just a neighbor gonna ask him to turn the TV down. His jaw almost hits his chest when he sees Bones leaning on the door jam, flecks of melting snow on his shoulders and hair and a grin wider than a harbor on his beautiful mouth.
“Happy birthday, kid,” he drawls and fuck, it’s good to hear that voice, see the goofy eyebrow waggle. Wonders how Bones even knows it’s his birthday, decides he must have seen it somewhere - after all, he’s had time to search out clothing.
“Jesus, Bones, how long you been here?” Jim grabs his arm and drags him into his room, stares at Bones like he’s an apparition. Jim bounces on his heels, like he needs to pee or something, which he totally doesn’t but wouldn’t admit to if he did, since he’s not prepared to let Bones out of his sight just yet.
“Few hours. I’d’ve come sooner but I needed to go see my tailor first.” Bones indicates his clothing with a dramatic sweep of his hands.
“Very nice,” Jim grins. “I’m really liking the pajamas, lime green sneakers and raincoat effect. It’s very…” he searches for one of his friend, Davina’s sayings, she’s always got her nose in the latest, “…fashion forward!”
Bones rolls his eyes. “Yeah, those bags o’ shit dumped outside thrift stores are brim full o’ the finest autumn/winter look,” Bones grins.
Fuck, Bones actually looks happy, Jim thinks, and he hopes it must be because he’s made it to see him.
“You wanna give me your coat, or are you cold?”
“I’ll keep it on, just till my stones come back down outta my body, if that’s all the same to you, kid.”
Jim’s desperate to hug Bones, but the last few times they’ve seen each other, over the past two years, Bones has seemed particularly reticent about touching him. Jim reckons it’s Bones’ natural reaction to Jim’s barely concealed determination to seduce him, remaining unspoken since a few years ago when Jim made every one of Bones’ jumps to him an argument or accusation of some kind. Jim colors at the memories, ashamed that in those days he spoke to Bones much as he spoke to that bastard Frank, when Bones has been the only who’s ever shown he really gives a shit.
And yeah, of late, Jim’s been sure to take every opportunity to appear semi-dressed around Leonard, ‘accidently on purpose’, emerging out of the shower with a poorly draped towel around his hips, licking his lips, faking innocent, and he’s noticed how Bones has looked a little too long at him, eyes flicking away, changed the subject. Yeah, he’s too much of a gentleman to make a move on Jim until he’s of age; he’s said that with every push away, real or in tone for years; and meanwhile, Jim’s fucked or been fucked by scores of others - all of them a rehearsal or as stand-ins for Bones.
Jim pour a drink, ignores the eye-roll that he should even have alcohol in the room, knows he won’t have another drink all night because, birthday or not, Jim’s not having Bones’ disapproval about under-age drinking harshing his new-found high, not now it actually feels like a birthday should.
Jim fetches a glass of tap water, watches Bones knock back the bourbon in two gulps, and sits on the couch a few centimeters from Bones who’s still wrapped in his stolen coat. “You should brush your teeth, Bones, you stink, man.”
Bones nods and saunters to the sink in the kitchenette. “Yeah, that puke cologne o’ mine sure sticks.” He brushes his teeth with Jim’s brush, spitting a few times, running the water from the tap directly into his mouth. “Shit, you been pissing in here again, Jim? What’ve I told you about that?”
Jim smirks. “I hate to go across the hall in the night, you know that. If I’d expected you, I’d have cleaned up.”
Bones scans the room. “Yeah, I’ll make sure and call next time,” he sighs dramatically. “Thing is you’d need at least a month’s notice to get this place looking something less than a hog’s ass.”
Jim laughs. “Fuck I’m just stoked to see you, Bones. I was starting to worry, in case-”
“-Nah, I’m fine, kid, always fine.” But Jim notices how Bones’ eyes flicker to the side briefly, like he’s remembering something he isn’t going to mention.
Bones searches deep in both pockets and pulls out both hands in a fist shape, knuckles up. “Come here,” he says and Jim’s cock twitches at his tone. He strolls the few steps towards Bones and looks at his hands, up at Bones’ arched eyebrow trying to look cool while his heart’s thumping.
“You got me a present?”
“You sound like a kid sometimes, you know that?”
Jim lifts his chin in annoyance then smiles, “I’m no kid, Bones. I’m eighteen as of oh-two-hundred.”
Bones nods at his hand. “Come on, kid, before I get cramp.”
Jim licks his lips while he thinks, then taps the hand to his left and watches eagerly while Bones unfurls it in super-slow motion. There’s a data chip nestled in his palm. Jim takes it carefully, sees the IOWA POWERBALL logo on it and frowns. “What is it?”
“A fuckin’ Cadillac. What the hell do you think it is?”
“But, Bones…” Jim suddenly feels short of breath - this is too much.
“Shut up. There’s got to be some bonus to this goddamn situation.” His words may be severe, but Bones voice is warmer than hot chocolate. He gazes at Jim, lips quirking, waiting for a further reaction.
“Should I check the numbers?” Jim finally says, feeling a little stupid because he just knows there’s no need.
“Up to you, but since I’ve just ‘enjoyed’ one of those rare double-jumps of mine, I think you’ll find your birthday present isn’t a dud.”
“What happened?”
“I up and landed in a store front, saw the winning numbers. Naturally, I wasn’t thinking about lotteries at the time, just the fact that I was naked and it was snowing, but and thanks to my photographic memory, when I then jumped again, back a day, I decided to get some reward for all the shit for once.”
Jim allows the drawled tones to seep through him, transfixed by those fucking amazing eyebrows, doing a little dance number as Bones continues.
“I stole some poor bastard’s credit chip earlier, bought the lottery ticket, dropped the credit chip down a drain ‘case it fell into the wrong hands, and- oof!” Bones exclaims when Jim’s got him in a bear hug.
Then he let’s go, drinking in Bones’ amused face. Jim shoulders him - just so Bones knows he’s only guying around; doesn’t think he’s trying to touch in any other way - though, maybe he is that too.
“For the record, the weather’s gonna be shit tomorrow too,” Bones adds drily, pushing his hands back into his coat pockets.
“A double-jump? Seems…well…weird.”
“Like I said, everything’s weird about this - it’s the Powers that Be, Jim.”
Jim’s heard Bones talk about the Powers that Be before, knows it’s a euphemism for the chaotic nature of his time-travelling life, how it sums up how Bones feels manipulated, toyed with by his lot.
“Well, yeah, it’s about time the Bastards that Be delivered for once.”
“I’m not disagreeing there, kid.”
Jim places the chip in the inside pocket of his leather jacket and dives onto the couch, sprawls on his back, one foot on the floor. “Hey, you gonna take that coat off?” He can’t help it, but his voice is husky, knows Bones notices too.
Bones stares at him, unbuttons the coat and drops it on a chair, stands in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Jim watches him run a hand through his still damp hair and allows his mouth to fall open a little at the sight of Bones arms flexing in the faded, crumpled t-shirt.
“You still cold?” he asks, his voice a slight croak.
“Maybe a little,” Bones says blinking.
“It’s warm over here.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh…”
“Shall I come over there, then?”
Jim nods, his heart’s sliding up into his throat as he watches Bones saunter towards him, then loom above him until Jim extends a hand which Bones clasps with both of his. Jim shuffles up against the arm rest, and Bones allows himself to be pulled down so he’s sitting in the small area of couch between Jim’s legs. So this is what a pregnant pause feels like.His heart thuds when their eyes meet. Fuck it - it’s now or never, so-
“Wanted you for so long,” Jim whispers, his hands finally moving to curl into Leonard’s shirt, clinging to him. “Belong to you-“ Shit, he’s waited almost his whole life.
“Shush, Jim,” Bones’ voice is as quiet as his. “I know…” His eyes are dark as he examines Jim’s face, “I know…” And Jim understands he has to be the one makes the first move to quell Bones’ fears that he might be taking advantage. But he has to know…
“You want me, right? You’re not just feeling sorry for me?”
Bones shakes his head. “Used to, when you were all bashed up and hurtin’, but I’ve learned you can take care of yourself, when it counts. Shit, Jim, you’re a man now.”
Jim closes his eyes, strokes up to broad shoulders, guides him closer so Bones chest presses close. He can hear himself breathing, can smell the bourbon on those lips, so near, can feel each gentle exhalation as he leans closer; and Bones still isn’t touching him with those hands he’s fantasized about in forever, still waiting to be asked in.
In a daze of lust and need, Jim half opens his eyes and brings his lips to that strong, stubbled jaw, plants a gentle kiss, inhaling the other man’s scent, moving to the corner of that precious mouth and shifts his lips so he’s resting them on the slight upward curve.
“Fuck,” Jim sighs, so quiet he wonders whether Bones can even hear him. “Want you so bad…”
“You’ve got me, it’s okay, I’m here.” And finally Bones’ weight sags onto him, anchoring him in place.
The kiss is sweet, gentle, close-mouthed and Jim lets out a disbelieving breath, drops his cheekbone to Bones' chin, just breathes against him while Bones strokes his hair, while Jim mutters against skin he’s wanted to touch, wanted to taste for so long.
“Bones…” he pleads.
And Bones spreads his fingers, supports Jim’s head and makes a tentative move with his tongue, sending a shock of fire through him. Again, Jim just breathes, frightened Bones will maybe change his mind. He opens his mouth, inviting him in and, “Fuck, Bones,” comes out muffled as he thumbs the corners of Jim’s mouth to gain access and his tongue, finally Jesus, touches Jim’s, warm and sure.
Bones pushes Jim’s leg further up the back of the couch, nudges the foot on the floor with his so he’s got more room and leans harder across Jim’s body, his hand on the arm-rest while he contemplates him. He can feel hardness against his thigh, and for the first time in his entire sexual experience, Jim feels self-conscious, worried he’ll disappoint. His arms flop uselessly to his side and he watches Bones rake his eyes over him; wonders, hopes if he’s being compared to an older version of himself that Bones has intimated about. From little snippets of information, he believes they’ll meet in ‘real’ time; one day he’ll have Bones with him - he won’t disappear after minutes or hours. He hates his multi-tasking mind, wonders why the fuck he’s not just sinking deep into every moment when their time together’s so precious, so fleeting.
Jim arches off the couch when Bones rests warm fingers on his stomach where his t’s ridden up. “Bones,” he says, looking down at those hands that have held him so many times when he’s cried, known when to hold back, have clenched when Jim’s raged against the universe, that removed that bee sting the first time they met. Jim clasps them in his and brings them to his face, kisses them slowly, the knuckles, the palms then sucking a thumb into his mouth, watching in delight when Bones hisses through his teeth.
A coil of arousal twists through Jim, moving him to wriggle out from under Bones, push him to a seated position and straddle his thighs. Instinct tells him to guide Bones through this, to seal this bond. He knows Bones well enough to get he’s fragile when he travels, and Jim needs to ground him, so he snakes his arms around Bones neck and presses his chest to his face.
“Undress me, Bones, I’m yours, it’s okay.”
Bones gazes up at him, eyes dark and hooded with arousal, and nods, pulls Jim’s t-shirt up and away and presses his mouth to Jim’s skin. “Fuck, kid…you’re just…” and licks a hot tongue along to one nipple, flicks at it, then sits back and strokes his hands down Jim’s sides till they rest at his hips.
“Come on, Bones,” Jim pleads and guides Bones to his waistband until he’s unbuttoned his jeans. Jim pushes those beautiful hands so Bones understands that he needs to release his cock before he comes in his pants, and kneels up to give him access. Bones takes his eyes off Jim’s face for the first time in forever to glance down as he releases him, a slight frown on his face that mystifies Jim. He doesn’t probe, doesn’t want to spoil the moment, so stands up unsteadily to allow Bones to push his jeans down. He steps out, suddenly filled with his customary confidence when Bones moans in approval.
His cock’s almost flush with his belly and Jim takes Bones by the hand and pulls him to standing, pressing against him for a long, gentle, needy kiss while he undresses Bones, pulling away irritably each time he needs to make room to maneuver away damp, musky clothing. Jim realizes he’s never seen Bones in anything but stolen items and wonders what it would be like to see the real man, dressed in his scrubs, or a suit, slobbing around in sweats or naked like this every day. He’s never seen him aroused before, never had license to touch him like this, and these last few years of wanting, needing Bones and, finally this is it - the sense of joy is almost snuffed out by a sudden panic that Bones might jump before they’re through.
“Just wait, okay, wait!” and Jim rushes to his unmade bed to root around under the pillow for some lube and a condom.
Bones smiles at him when he realizes what he’s got in his hand and takes the tube from him, unstops it and rests it on the couch. He sits down so his face is level with Jim’s cock and Jim’s standing between his legs, his hands twisting in dark, thick hair.
Jim throws his head back when he feels sure fingers stroking through his pubic hair, tracing lines on his inner thigh, stroking and weighing his balls. Jim’s always in control when he fucks, alcohol and the occasional drug use notwithstanding; always aware just where he stands on his line of arousal so that he can satisfy his partner. But when lush lips stretch around the head of his cock, Jim freezes, realizing he’s seconds away from coming.
“Bones, stop, seriously, man - I’m gonna shoot my load if you don’t stop; don’t wanna waste tonight, okay?”
“Okay, let’s go to bed then,” Bones growls, picking up the lube and condom and pushing Jim before him.
Bones stretches out on the tiny bed, parts his legs and puts his hands under his head, all gift wrap gone, obvious in what he wants to happen now. Jim promises that next time he’s going to give Bones a full picture of his skills as a lover but now, fuck it, it’s his damned birthday and he’s going to go for gold. He tears open the foil with his teeth and rolls the condom onto his desperate cock, gives it a squeeze at the base because seriously, he’s still just a breath from coming. He lubes up as gently as he can then kneels between Bones’ thighs, running a slippery finger around his entrance.
Then he sees it.
“Bones?”
Bones looks down at Jim’s hand tracing the tattoo where his inner thigh meets hip, a cluster of three blue, nautical stars. Naked eyes meet his and Jim drops his head and lathes his tongue across the design, grasping Bones’ cock while he mumbles into the warm, musky skin.
“I can’t bring you with me when I jump, but this is part of me, like…”
But Jim doesn’t need to hear the end of this sentence, what he needs is to devour those lips, kiss those eyes, hold this incredible man, his guardian angel. And his mouth is raw, bruised when Bones wriggles free so he, both of them can breathe.
“Jesus,” Bones says, “get on with it already.”
“Coming right up, old man,” Jim smirks, delighting in how Bones moans when his finger slides in right up to the third knuckle, eyes on Bones’ face the whole time. He works his finger in and out while gently stroking Bones’ impressive cock with the other hand. He doesn’t want to rush him, wondering if he’s as close as he is.
“More,” Bones insists, grabbing Jim’s arm to help, so Jim obliges, moaning in response to how two fingers look twisting into that muscular ass, how Bones pulls his legs up to his chest to give Jim access. Christ, he never imagined it would be like this, that he’d be the one in control in this situation. Bones is showing nothing but trust in him, allowing him to explore skin he’s wanted for so long, making himself a birthday gift, pliable, giving, allowing Jim to fulfill every fantasy he’s held for years by submitting to him. He’d like to give his own cock a reassuring tug, but as it is, Jim doesn’t have enough hands to cover every inch of tan, lightly haired skin before him, his mouth can’t reach enough areas quickly enough to worship and bless and explore. He’s consumed with joy - he’s waited so long, so long…
The moment Jim’s cock breaches the tight hole is so fucking overwhelming that Jim’s sure his heart’s gonna burst right through his ribs and land between them. He grins at the image, earning a quirk of the eyebrow from the gorgeous bastard beneath him.
“Somethin’ amusing you?” The southern drawl in full fettle now Jim’s got Bones where he wants.
“I’m just happy,” Jim manages to force out, pushing in a little further then more when Bones smiles back and cranes up to kiss him. Their mouths fuse as they kiss, Jim’s tongue moving in time with his thrusts as Bones loosens around him and Bones is gasping wantonly as Jim finds that spot inside him when he changes angle.
“Gonna come, Bones,” Jim gasps, heat building in his belly. “Fuck, so good, so good…”
“Yeah,” and legs clamp around him, hands guide his hips to move faster until Jim stills and comes harder than he has ever, for what seems like an eternity, mumbling his need and want into Bones mouth. He’s dimly aware that maybe Bones has come too and feels a twinge of guilt that he’s lost track; but shit, he’ll do better next time. He slumps onto the hard chest below him realizing with relief that there’s a slick of come on Bones’ belly even though his hands have not loosened their grip on Jim’s hips.
“Holy fuck,” he says resting his chin wearily on Bones’ shoulder, “I mean - fuck.”
“Well, sure - just gimme a minute to recover, kid-“ Bones chuckles, and Jim shuts him up with another kiss.
+++
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a great believer in the educational system, Bones.”
Bones pushes up onto an elbow and regards Jim’s face with a scowl. “You ever think you’re wasting your life, kid? Shit you’re so damned smart…”
“I don’t need to go back to school, I’m fine.” Way to ruin the post-coital snuggling; thanks Bones. But Jim knew it would come up, how he’d spend the lottery money.
Bones is silent for a moment. They’re lying side by side facing each other, Jim’s head resting on Bones’ arm; his hand in Jim’s hair. “I’m sorry - you’ll do whatever you think’s right, sorry.” But it’s a growl.
“That’s me, Bones.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Bones crooks his arm so his face is inches from his, mossy eyes earnest. “Just look after yourself, alright, put it in a trust fund or something…”
Something cold clutches at Jim’s heart. “What?” he says. “Tell me.”
Bones sighs, flops onto his back. “I can’t see you for a while…quite a while.”
“No!” Jim grabs Bones’ face. “Don’t say that - I’ll fucking die.”
“No you won’t Jim. Look, it’s out of my hands, you know that - I just thought I’d better warn you in case, you know…”
“In case what, Bones, what?” Fuck - can’t he have anything, anyone for himself?
Bones brings his mouth close, breath moist and warm against Jim’s lips. “In case you were enough of a dumbass to think I didn’t love you, that’s what.”
Oh. Oh.
on to part 8