Work Text:
we’ve got forever
slippin through our hands
we’ve got more time
to never understand
~ ~ ~
One week into shore leave and three days after the last time Jim saw Bones before he stormed out, Jim’s spent his time packing things up at his apartment in San Francisco, the apartment that’s filled to the brim with Bones’ belongings. He’s trying to get ready to put everything in storage so he can rent out the apartment after his return to space, sliding china plates and silver into bubble wrap, separating video and music chips (he remembers laughing at Bones’ music taste, old country mixed in with drum and bass, the way Bones used to smile soft and sweet when Jim nagged him about putting the discs back into the boxes) into piles, ready for Bones to take back home to Georgia.
He discovers Bones’ favourite jumper tucked into his wardrobe three days and 5 hours after Bones finally tells him he can’t do this anymore, that he can’t keep pretending that what they have is nothing more than friendship whenever they’re back on earth when everyone who matters knows they’re together, before Bones had packed up his belongings and prepared to go home, a tired reminder that he’d be back in three weeks to return to Enterprise the last thing he’d told Jim before he’d left.
The jumper is blue and green, and the sleeve is torn at the cuff from wear. Jim can still recall the way he used to slide his thumb through the hole to press against the inside of Bones’ wrist, and how Bones used to shrug into it after a shower, claiming the soft wool felt good against his skin right before Jim used to pull it off of him again.
Jim thinks about the way he’d slid the jumper up over Bones’ stomach, running his hand, and then later his tongue up along the flat line of Bones’ abs, tracing words he was too scared to say outside of his head and silly maths equations up along Bones’ chest, until he’d reached Bones’ shoulders, greedily listening for the way Bones’ voice had grown and hitched and promised him the world.
Jim remembers the way Bones had thrown the jumper onto the floor after their third fight of the week, the way it had stayed there for another three nights until Bones came back from wherever he’d been hiding, apologies and promises sliding off of his tongue like honey.
Jim looks at the jumper three days and 5 hours after Bones leaves him and throws it into the bottom of his closet where he can’t see it, anger and frustration and fear making him feel like a little boy again hearing his mum tell him that, no, he can’t skip school today just because the lessons he’s learning are boring.
Three days and 7 hours after Bones finally stops letting Jim wreck what they have, Jim gets on his bike and starts the long drive to Georgia.
~ ~ ~
Jim used to make jokes about Bones being his little house wife, mouth curved up in a leer as he’d watched Bones make dinner on the nights Jim just couldn’t be bothered, or when he tried to organise the piles of washing Jim insisted gave his apartment a feeling of homeliness. Nine times out of ten Bones had rolled his eyes and thrown a dirty sock or tea towel at Jim’s head, but on rare occasions he’d allowed himself to at Jim, a familiar one that made his eyes glow green, one that had meant it would be hours before they’d be ready to leave the apartment again.
The reality is, is that Jim is the one who acts like a stupid housewife, who daydreams about a house in the country once they retire, something stable and safe that he can call his own and which Bones can feel at home in. He’d always assumed Bones knew this, that no matter what he said on earth or who he flirted with, that it was Bones that he went home with at the end of the night, that maybe Jim was ready to grow some balls and finally make this thing between them official.
But Jim’s learned that sometimes assumptions are the termites of relationships, because damned if he hasn’t just destroyed the best thing in his life.
~ ~ ~
Jim’s always been good at leaping before he looks, is more likely to throw out a cocky remark or lead with a punch before he really things about it. It’s both his worst and his best quality, leading him from the horrors of Tarsus to enrolment at Starfleet, and from the bottom of a bottle in a bar in the backend of Iowa to Captain of the flagship.
Trying to work out how destiny deals his cards is a moot point Jim’s discovered over the years: either fates a bitch, or it’s all about give and take, what comes around goes around, yadda yadda yadda.
And sure, in the past Jim’s been angry about the things that have been take away from him (home, stability, Sam), but he’s learned to take the broken bits left behind and make things work, even if sometimes he feels like a violin that’s been too tightly tuned.
But this time, Jim’s not sure he’s going to be able to fix himself. Because he knows that if Bones is really through with him, that he’ll be shattered until the day he dies, no matter how ridiculously dramatic it sounds in his own head. And as he straps himself into the shuttle to Georgia, he wonders if Bones will listen to him before he breaks his nose, or if he’ll simply slam the door shut on him, gut churning as he thinks about what he’s about to do.
It’s this odd sense of fear and nerves that allow Jim to paste a smile on his face when the pilot makes a song and dance about the great Captain Kirk flying on his shuttle and which then allows him to charm his way into renting a hovercar from the pretty girl about to close the rental place. He drives on autopilot, the familiar twists and turns of the countryside soothing him, reminding him of all the times he’d taken this trip with Bones, the latter’s grouching and grumbling a warm comfort at Jim’s side.
Now, Jim can barely focus on the breathtaking picture the setting sun makes against the dark green of the fields of grass, or how the scent of honeysuckle fills his car and brings back memories of days spent in the field behind Bones’ house pressed so tightly together it was hard to see where Jim ended and Bones began. Instead as he pulls into the ancient rambling house Bones shares with his mom, Jim feels dread settle like a stone in the pit of his stomach.
But Jim is nothing if not a stubborn sonofabitch, and fuck it, he’s not going to walk away this time. So, he pulls himself out of the car and strides towards the door, knocks once and tries not to show that he’s hyperventilating inside.
The door swings open a minute later, and Jim feels a mix of relief and frustration, as he’s greeted by Elena McCoy instead of her son.
“Jim,” she says, sounding surprised, and that slams home exactly how much he’s hurt Bones, Elena’s surprise that he’d turned up, because he always goes back to Georgia with Bones for part of their shore leave, even if he arrives a little bit after Bones because of meetings. “Well now, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you until Enterprise left dry-dock.”
“Ah, yeah. I had a few things to sort out back in SanFran,” Jim says, running a hand along the back of his neck briefly in nerves, attempting a smile. “But I actually don’t know if I’m staying. It kind of depends on Bones. Is he here?”
“He’s out the back feeding the horses,” Elena says, and oh yeah, she knows exactly what’s gone on if the considering look she’s sending Jim’s way says anything. But she’s not shouting at him, or chasing him away with a shotgun which Jim is definitely taking as a positive. “If you go ‘round the side, you should be able to catch him before he heads back inside. Give me a call once you’re done talking, and I’ll make up a room for you.”
She’s smiling and heading back into the house before Jim can reply, and he wonders hysterically if she thinks it will be as simple as Jim just turning up and smiling at Bones to win back his lovers trust. But he heads around the side of the house anyway, footsteps crunching along the gravelled path through the soft green grass and past Elena’s prized bluebells, taking a brief moment to ensure he doesn’t trample on Elena’s perfectly groomed flowerbeds.
As Jim follows the path to the barn tucked down the bottom of the garden, he’s suddenly thankful that he can see Bones before he sees Jim, that he’s able to drink in his features hungrily, from the flyaway hair and that cowlick he can never quite get rid of, down across a tired looking face to a well muscled body accentuated by a loose grey t-shirt and tight jeans. Jim feels a pang at the shadows under Bones’ eyes, wonders if he’s been as worried as Jim at the idea of them being over for good.
Jim takes a deep breath, and calls on every bit of bravery he’s ever been praised for by the media and countless Admirals, and steps forwards into the barn.
“You should be careful there, Phoenix is a biter, remember?” he calls, mentally smacking himself at his trite greeting, because seriously? Fully trained diplomat, and debater of the year for three semester running at the Academy, and a dumb horse joke is the best he can come up with?
Bones tenses immediately, shoulders hunching protectively like he’s preparing himself for a blow, but he doesn’t stop running the curry comb along the soft speckled grey of Phoenix’s shoulders and neck.
“She ain’t gonna bite me ‘cos she knows me. It’s only dumb Starfleet captains who leap before they look and think they’re goddamned invincible she’s got issues with,” Bones snarls, tensing further when Jim ducks under the fence and leans next to him, and oh yeah, there are definitely two conversations going on here.
“Well maybe this Starfleet captain is learning his lessons this time, and promises to start thinking before he acts,” Jim says, ducking under the fence and closer to Phoenix, who snorts and eyes him with one brown eye. Jim smiles slightly and runs a hand slowly across her flank, lifting his eyes until he meets Bones’. Jim winces slightly at the flicker of hurt and misery he manages to glimpse in hazel-green eyes, before Bones looks away pointedly.
“Yeah well, maybe you also need to learn when to give people some goddamn space instead of trying to get in people’s faces all the fucking time,” Bones snaps back and there’s still a thread of tension and anger in his voice.
“Look, I fucked up, I get that, I really do. And yeah, I’m messed up; you’ve told me that a million times before, ok?” Jim says, voice slightly desperate, because he needs to say this even if Bones decides they’re finished. He catches Bones’ flinch out of the corner of his eye at his last sentence and winces. “I’m not saying you’re wrong about me needing to sort myself out, and I’m not saying you’re unfair for pointing it out, ok? I just. I need you to at least give me an opportunity to try and tell you why I behaved the way I did.”
Jim pauses and tries to gauge Bones reaction, taking the fact that Bones hasn’t stalked out of the barn as all the assurance he needs to carry on talking.
“I think one of my biggest issues is that I assume people know how I’m feeling at any given moment, that I don’t need to spell it out for them, but I know that that’s just arrogance and that sometimes I need to wake up and be vulnerable. And that? The being vulnerable bit? It scares the fuck out of me,” Jim says, waving a hand desperately when he sees Bones try to interrupt, knows already that despite how angry Bones is, he also knows how much Jim relies on his arrogant Starfleet captain persona to hide that he’s as human as the next person.
“Damn it Jim, I ain’t askin’ you to propose to me in front of the world. It would just be nice if you didn’t treat me like your dirty little secret whenever someone sees us in public,” Bones says, voice low with misery and hurt.
“Jesus Bones, I’ve never ever thought of you as my dirty little secret.” Jim protests, leaning forwards until Bones looks up. He maintains eye contact as he continues, needing Bones to see how genuine he’s being. “I know I’m fucked up three ways from Sunday, and sometimes I wonder why in God’s name Starfleet ever thought giving me the flagship was a good idea, when Christ, I can barely have a grownup conversation about my feelings with the man I love.”
“And I do love you Bones. No matter what I do or say, you’re it for me, ok?” Jim says, voice starting to pick up to meet the pounding of his heart. Bones is watching him, eyes wider than Jim’s ever seen and fuck, no wonder his mom never remarried again for love, because love, the kind that’s all encompassing and forever? That’s terrifying. “Hearts in my fucking eyes, til death do we part, the whole nine yards. And ok, it might take me a while to finally feel comfortable with flaunting that in public. But if we’re not done, if I haven’t managed to destroy us, I want things to change. I want to hold your hand when we’re off shift, and have Uhura roll her eyes when I return from our lunches with my hair ruffled, and watch Spock raise his eyebrows whenever he sees me checking out your arse in the gym.”
“But if you want me to walk away, I will, and if you want us to go back to being friends I can do that, ok? It’ll kill me, but I need you in my life, even if that means we spend the rest of our lives just as friends. So yeah. That’s all I came to say.” Jim finishes, trying to pretend that he’s not blushing like a 12-year old, and fuck, Bones still hasn’t said anything.
Jim’s just about to give up and leave, maybe try to sneak away before Elena sees him so he has some dignity left, when Bones speaks.
“After you’re done showerin’ and unpackin’, you can join us for dinner. My mama makes a damn fine steak pie, and she’s made a peach pie for afters, something I know you ain’t gonna turn down.” Bones says, that hesitant hurt tone in his voice finally gone. “But Jim? When we go back, I want things to change. Whether that means I move in with you, or you with me, or you finally introduce me to your mom properly when we go back to Iowa in two weeks, I don’t care. But this sneaking around bullshit is over.”
He still won’t look at Jim, but he’s less rigid, slightly more loose limbed, especially when he catches sight of Jim’s nod and the smile stretching slowly across his mouth. And sure, maybe they aren’t perfect, and maybe they’ve still got a long way to go, but as they walk back to the house, Bones doesn’t pull away when Jim slides his hand into Bones, and it’s a start.