Rating: G, PG at the outside
Feedback: Makes me happy, just play nice
Disclaimer(s) can be found here (see Fandom(s) I’m Going To Hell For)
Summary: Wherein Bones has worked a double, Jim is miraculously (almost) on time, and comfort is the order of the day.
AN1: comment fic in response to this pic set. FYI- jim_and_bones is a locked comm.
…still going to special Trekker Hell.
It had been a rough shift. A minor explosion in Engineering- though in Bones’ mind there would never be anything minor about an explosion in the part of this tin can that was supposed to keep it from tumbling helplessly into the abyss or worse, let the abyss come tumbling in- sent half a dozen crew to his sickbay. Thankfully the worst injuries were a couple broken bones and some burns. It still took its toll when he had already been working a double and it was all the more annoying when the reason he was working a double was so he and Jim could have a whole, glorious twenty-four hours to themselves- barring any insane Romulans, genetically enhanced homicidal madmen, or over-aggressive Klingons. Bones entered the ‘Captain’s quarters’, which a few weeks ago began officially doubling as the ‘CMO’s quarters’, and headed straight for the shower. At that moment all he wanted was a shower, a nice glass of bourbon, and Jim curled around him. But Jim wasn’t due to get off shift for another hour and the bourbon could wait.
When Jim arrived a little over an hour later, miraculously having gotten away only about fifteen minutes after his shift technically ended (he had a feeling he had Uhura to thank for that), he found Bones asleep, splayed out on their sofa in the jeans he knew were as much as a comfort to Bones as comfortable on him, a sure sign that he’d had a rough day. Smiling Jim resisted the urge to go kiss Bones’ damp hair, not wanting to wake his lover just yet, instead taking his own detour to the shower.
Bones was awake when Jim came out of the shower just as Jim knew he would be, but he was still laid back, relaxing, watching as Jim stretched and flexed. “See anything you like?” Jim asked playfully as he sauntered over to stand just out of Bones’ reach.
“Somethin’ I’d like a lot more if it was in my lap where it belongs,” Bones answered.
“Why, Dr. McCoy, I believe you’re getting possessive in your old age,” he teased as he straddled Bones’ lap.
Bones ran his hands along Jim’s denim clad thighs and up underneath his hastily thrown on shirt, humming. “No. Always been this way. Just took some puerile captain’s awhile to notice.”
Jim snickered, leaning down to rub their cheeks together softly. “Twenty-four hours, all to ourselves. What do you want to do?”
“A lot,” Bones said mischievously, “but right now, get down here and kiss me.”