Fic: As the Day Burns Away
Title: As the Day Burns Away
Author: sunriseinspace
Character(s): Jim Kirk / Leonard McCoy, Joanna McCoy, Unnamed-Grandmother McCoy
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I own nothing about Star Trek (2009), its characters or plotlines, including any recognizable dialogue.
Summary: Summer of Love challenge prompt on jim_and_bones : "A quiet and relaxed stroll on a summer evening. Just walking together, maybe chatting idly, holding hands, whatever. Total fluffy schmoopfest. And maybe it leads to other things?" Part of the heat-wave!verse ( Hotter'n Blue Blazes, Brightest Hue, and Brighter Than Sunshine).
A/N: Whoa, they went and got angsty on me. Whew... Not truly a response to the prompt as it's nowhere near schmoopy enough, just mildly fluffy. :D Oops.
This does come after Brighter Than Sunshine.
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"Leonard Horatio, get out of my kitchen," his grandmother admonishes him, firm hands on his shoulders as she frog-marches him out of the kitchen. At the kitchen table, Joanna giggles, small hands buried in a lump of pretzel dough and flour smudged on her face. He sighs melodramatically and rolls his eyes, winking at his daughter as he lets his grandmother kick him out, the kitchen door swinging shut behind him.
He finds Jim perched on the front porch's wide rail, feet drawn up in front of him and a glass of homemade peach wine in hand, staring out at the horse pastures and orchard. There's something almost sad about the expression on his face, some strange longing hiding in the sunset shadows gathering around him. Leonard walks over and rests his arms on the rail, leans against the same pillar Jim's back rests against, and takes a deep breath, tasting the humidity and fading day on his tongue.
The cicadas are quieter here, at his grandmother's house, but there're more frogs and the crickets are just as enthusiastic here as at his house. It's hotter tonight than it has been recently, the air only barely cooler than it had been at noon and heavy with moisture, despite the absolute absence of clouds in the sky. Overhead the remnants of the sunset glow a soft orange-yellow, tinting the twilight a watery vanilla hue, the air sweet with the promise of night. Sighing, Leonard pulls a face and straightens, judging with a quick glance that there's still plenty of daylight left, though it'll start to fade soon enough.
He nudges Jim's shoulder with his own, smiles when Jim doesn't even wobble on his perch, and steals the last swallow of wine in the kid's glass. "Let's go for a walk," he prompts, not even waiting for a response as he steps off the porch and heads down the front walk. There's a light thump behind him and he stops and turns back, eyebrow raised as Jim steps out of the flowerbed and walks over to him. "If you stepped on her petunias, I'm not gonna stop her thumpin' you," he warns, knowing from experience how his grandmother deals with people messin' up her flowers.
Jim's sunny grin makes him roll his eyes, but he takes it to mean the flowers are untouched. Nodding, he turns and heads toward the road, feeling Jim draw up next to him, steps in sync and shoulders bumping occasionally.
They're quiet for a little while, down the length of the winding gravel driveway, until they reach the road, his grandmother's house behind him and Len's house in the distance in front of them. They pause for a second, looking out at the land, and Jim shifts to nudge Len with his shoulder.
"Three days of shore leave left, Bones," he remarks, staring up at the way the sky has turned a delicate shade of robin's egg blue. Leonard turns his head and sees the wistful look on the kid's face, wonders if homesickness for the Enterprise is the cause of the melancholy still clinging to Jim's edges.
"Yep," Len agrees, scuffing a toe on the asphalt before turning to head down the road. There's a small lake down the way and he figures it's as good a destination as any. As always, Jim's right at his side without even asking where they're going.
"It doesn't bother you anymore? The 'danger and disease wrapped in darkness and silence?'" The question's probing, asking more than the words imply, but Leonard's not sure exactly what Jim's getting at.
"Eh, not so much. 'S'long as you keep the ship in one piece," he admits, tucking his hands into his pockets and shrugging. He worries about keeping headstrong captains and their devoted crew in one piece more than the void outside the ship, though shuttle rides still get him and he doesn't go near the transporter if he can help it.
Jim nods, watching the ground under his feet, shoulders hunched and back tense; concern spikes hot as the fading sunset as Leonard glances at him. "What about Joanna?"
Len turns to face the kid for a step, pausing to look at him before pivoting on his heel to keep up the pace. "She's gonna stay with her mama, like she did right after the divorce. Gran'll keep an eye out on the house and we'll talk, just the same as we did before."
Len's confusion slows his steps, meaning Jim reaches the old wooden fence surrounding the pond first, leaving Len to stare at Jim's back, studying the damp, clinging t-shirt like it holds the answers to the riddle, wrapped in mystery, inside an enigma that is his best friend. He has absolutely no idea what's going through Jim's head, but the miasma of melancholy surrounding the man like a haze doesn't bode well. He scratches the back of his neck as he walks over to stand next to Jim, feeling the slickness of sweat and the grit of parched Georgia dust under his fingers. God, he wishes it would rain.
"Jim, somethin' wrong?" he asks, staring at the pond, cutting glances over at Jim's profile.
"Let's head back to the house, Bones. Your Gran promised me a chocolate Chess pie and I don't wanna miss it," Jim pipes out brightly, eyes falsely cheery as he turns back toward the house, and the expression on his face abruptly reminds Leonard of the boarding chaos caused by Nero's reappearance and the look Jim'd worn when told he was grounded. Leonard's so thrown by the about-face, he has to jog to catch up with Jim.
"Jim," he insists, grabbing Jim's arm, the momentum swinging them around to face each other. "What-"
"Why are you in Starfleet, Bones?" Jim asks, voice intense in a way Leonard isn't familiar with. "Your grandmother told me Jocelyn reworked the custody agreement after the Incident, you could've stayed here, in Georgia with your daughter." Slender fingers dig bruises into Leonard's forearms as he stares blankly into wild blue eyes. "Why?" Jim asks again and the honest, gut wrenching confusion tears at Leonard.
"'Cause you need me there," he answers, bewildered, brow furrowed and a lump in his throat. "God, Jim, where else would I be?"
Jim's eyes flick back and forth as he studies Leonard's face, searching out honesty and untruths before letting himself believe. "But Joanna and your grandmother-"
"Are fine. Gran took care of the McCoy farms when I was in med school; she's used to runnin' the land and takin' care of the horses on her own. And there's plenty of people to help. Shoot, the whole town banded together after Daddy died, t'make sure nothin' happened. She'll be fine."
"And your daughter?" Jim's eyes blaze as he forces the issue, the same deeply intense blue of the sky overhead. The moon's halfway up the sky. Leonard can see it over Jim's shoulder, hanging heavy above the horizon, even as the sunset lingers.
Leonard gives the question the consideration it deserves, but he's made his choice, made it years ago when he signed on the dotted line and climbed on a shuttle. Much as it hurts to leave her behind, Joanna's safe and cared for with Jocelyn and Clay, both of whom love her as much as Leonard does. And she's old enough and smart enough now to realize that him leaving does not mean he won't try his hardest to be there every chance he gets.
"She'll be okay, Jim. She understands. She'll be fine with Jocelyn and Clay and Gran even promised her a pony for her birthday if she'll help take care of it."
"But, Bones-" Jim tries again, eyes almost anguished, and it all clicks.
"Jim," he runs a hand through Jim's hair, the familiar action soothing away some of the ache in Jim's eyes, "she's not you. And I'm not your mom. She knows that I love her and always will, but she understands that you need me more right now." A smile flickers over his face as he remembers his daughter's admonishments at bedtime last night. "She wants me to take care of you."
Jim's face softens, lines smoothing out and eyes lightening, and he looks years younger, insecure and sad. "I hate taking you away from her," he mumbles, peering up through golden eyelashes, "but I can't give you up."
Leonard wants to laugh at that admission, more to break the tension and replace the melancholy in Jim's eyes with something else than from any real amusement. "Jim," he exhales, a smile curling his mouth, "no one's asked you to. All of this reluctance," and he waves a hand before poking Jim in the forehead, "is all in your head. I'm not goin' anywhere you aren't."
Acceptance isn't immediate, not that Leonard expected it to be. Jim takes a moment to consider Leonard's promise, staring blankly past Len's shoulder, before his mood starts to shift and a smile blooms on his face. A mosquito buzzes past Leonard's ear, making him jump and swat at the air, and the tension finally breaks, shattering so completely there's no trace of it left as Jim laughs.
"Okay, Bones," he says, eyes shining in the pale mixed light of twilight, dusky shadows cloaking him though his face still glows gold with the last dregs of sunset. Nearby, a cricket starts its serenade, the cheerful chirps welcome where they wouldn't have been moments before.
Leonard rolls his eyes and shakes his head, glancing down at his feet as he allows a smile to spread across his face. He slings an arm around Jim's shoulders and starts walking them back toward his grandmother's house, the humidity making contact mildly uncomfortable, though he stubbornly endures it. The cotton of Jim's t-shirt is warm and damp under Leonard's arm, reassuring in a way he can't begin to describe. After all of Jim's voiced insecurities, it's nice, though, to be able to touch him, to assure himself that Jim hasn't gone anywhere, to let his own doubts settle back into silence.
He grins into the shadows before them when Jim wraps an arm around his waist, tucking his hand into Leonard's back pocket, twining them as close as possible while still able to walk. Their steps don't line up immediately, hips bumping and the occasional pull and tug when one would step too far from the other. But it's comfortable, familiar, togetherness without sameness, individuality that eventually shifts into unity, at least for a little while.
They turn onto Gran's driveway still joined at the hip, the sky overhead gradually darkening to reveal one star after another, pale azure deepening to cobalt, then sapphire. Gran left the porch light on for them, the pool of gold light a beacon revealing the occasional pothole in the gravel drive, allowing Len to steer around them and keep Jim from twisting an ankle. Jim chuckles as they find the front walk, eyes crinkling at the edges in pure, unadulterated amusement, and Leonard can't resist the pull - he's as addicted to Jim's glow as the moths are to the porch light. Tugging lightly, he brushes a kiss across Jim's temple, goes willingly when Jim pulls him in for a real kiss.
"If you boys want pie, y'all better get in here!" Gran's voice issues from the open windows, a crack of real warning blending with playful gruffness.
They break apart with giant smiles on their faces and take off for the house, giggling like children as they forego the path for sprinting across the yard, hands still clasped together as they run.