Archive of Our Own

[One]

The first time he found Jim Kirk in his room, Leonard dropped the paper bag of sandwiches he was carrying. He had just finished a double-shift at the on-campus medical center, and he was dead tired; all he wanted was a shower, some food, a beer or three, and sleep. So when a low whistle cut through his quarters, he jolted, taken off guard.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Jim smiled brightly and tossed the PADD he was reading on the side table. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to blow me off, Bones. How come you didn't answer your comm?"

"Because I was working," Leonard replied shortly, though the truth was that he'd forgotten to check his messages. Bending forward, he picked the bag of food up from the floor and strode into the kitchenette, his body still buzzing with surprise. He blew out a long breath as he dumped the bag on the counter.

"You wanna tell me what the hell you're doing here?" he called out, pulling off his jacket. "You didn't hack my door panel, did you, because I swear to God, Jim--"

"Hey, I did not hack your door," Jim protested.

"Uh-huh."

Leonard left his jacket next to bag of food and went to the fridge for a beer. Without looking, he knew that Jim had come into the kitchenette to lean against the counter, and that he was gauging Leonard's mood from his body language. That natural ability to read people was one of Jim's many aptitudes, and one reason he handled Leonard's changeable moods with ease.

Popping the bottle cap, Leonard brought the bottle to his lips and took a long pull, his eyes closing as the cold liquid slid down his throat. The beer was nearly half gone when he finally lowered it and turned to look at his friend.

Jim's easy smile had faded, replaced by an intense expression that darkened the blue of his eyes and turned down the corners of his expressive lips slightly, lending his handsome features a maturity beyond his years. Few people saw this serious side of Jim Kirk, though Leonard saw it frequently enough.

"Okay, let's pretend you didn't hack my door." Leonard put down his beer and leaned back, palms flat on the counter behind him. "How'd you get in here then? And I don't want any bullshit answer like I gave you my key code or something."

Jim shrugged, smiling uneasily before he replied. "I don't know what to tell you then, Bones, because you did give me your key code."

Leonard's brow furrowed in confusion. "I … what? What are you talking about?"

"You gave me your key code at lunch yesterday, Bones, when we decided to go out." Jim pitched his voice low, lacing his words with a parody of Leonard's own mild Georgia accent. "Meet me in my quarters, kid--that way I'm not stuck waitin' on you to drag your sorry ass out from under whatever girl you're bangin'."

Leonard was quiet for a long moment. All at once, he did remember agreeing to go out with Jim. He remembered suggesting Flaherty's Bar because it was only a ten minute walk from his dorm, and giving Jim shit about sleeping around (though that was more in response to Jim stealing food off Leonard's lunch tray than any real offense at Jim's behavior). And, of course, he remembered sharing his key code with Jim, which meant that rather than breaking and entering, he had simply opened Leonard's door and walked right in.

"Aw, fuck," Leonard muttered. He pursed his lips, squinting across the room at Jim. "I forgot all about Flaherty's. And giving you my code. I'm sorry."

Jim gave him a small smile. "Well, I could have hacked your door if I'd wanted to."

Leonard laughed softly. "I know that. I'm just surprised you haven't hacked it already."

"Who says I haven't?" Jim's eyes gleamed when Leonard groaned in response. He crossed the kitchenette to open the fridge and pulled out another two beers, setting them on the counter next to Leonard. Popping the caps, he gave Leonard a speculative look. "So ... you forgot me, huh?"

"No." Leonard shook his head and then shrugged tiredly. "Well, yeah, sort of. My brain is deep fried right now, Jim. Half the Academy's got some kind of food poisoning. One of the doctors and two of the nurses called in, which left the rest of us up to our asses in pukey cadets."

Jim grimaced. "Sounds grim."

"The attending physician used the word 'apocalyptic.'" Leonard rubbed one hand over his face and chuckled as Jim laughed too. "But it's over at any rate and now I just want to eat and hit the sack.

"You go on to Flaherty's without me," he said, waving a hand when Jim frowned, "and we can meet up again another night."

He startled when Jim's hands suddenly came to rest on his shoulders, then blinked when he leaned forward to press their foreheads together. His heart jumped when Jim smiled softly, eyes warm and kind, and then he pulled away and spun Leonard toward the door.

"Go take a shower, Bones," he said, gently pushing Leonard out of the kitchenette. "You smell like bad coffee, sonic sinks, and ... is that soup?"

"Some kid barfed chicken soup on my shoes last night." Leonard pushed back half-heartedly against Jim's hands. "I'd rather eat first though, ‘cause I'm fucking starving--"

"Shower first," Jim bargained, his low, soothing voice in Leonard's right ear making something flutter in his chest. "You'll feel like a new man when you're clean and smell like one, too, thank God."

Jim was right, of course. By the time Leonard emerged from the bathroom in a clean t-shirt and scrub pants, he actually felt awake for the first time in hours. In short order, he found himself sitting on the futon, encouraging Jim to dig in to the platter of food while they watched an old sci-fi holovid.

“You don’t need to feed me, Bones,” Jim protested.

“I know that, but there’s enough for the both of us ... this isn't all for me, you know.” He picked up a corned beef on rye, raising his eyebrow at Jim’s searching expression. “I placed a double order," he admitted, "just in case, you know, you decided to grace me with the Kirk presence in the next day or so.”

Jim grinned. "And if I hadn't?"

"More for me," Leonard replied around an obscenely large mouthful.

Two and a half sandwiches later, Leonard's blinks began to lengthen and his thoughts to slow. He settled further into the futon, his body growing heavy as he listened to Jim's low, warm voice provide commentary for the holovid.

“You goin’ to the bar soon?” he asked sleepily.

“As soon as the vid’s over. Gaila said she'd meet us there and she’s going to miss you, Bones.”

Leonard snorted. "Don't fool yourself, kid. Gaila won't miss me as long as you flash those baby blues of yours at her." He grunted when a surprisingly sharp elbow poked him in the ribs.

"She will too miss you. She finds your mercurial moods endearing, apparently."

"Orion females have good taste," Leonard mused, crossing his arms over his chest when Jim got up to gather their plates and empty bottles.

He closed his eyes, listening as Jim moved around his quarters, smiling faintly when something soft dropped over him a few minutes later. His sensitive fingertips recognizing the extra blanket from his closet by touch, but his even more sensitive nose twitched when Jim sat back down beside him. Leonard breathed in the aromas of brown sugar, butter, and apples, and grumbled.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Did you eat the piece of pie I brought home?"

There was a beat of silence before Jim spoke again. "Yeah, I did."

"Goddamnit, kid," he slurred. "I was gonna eat that for dessert. Or maybe breakfast."

Jim chuckled, his warm fingers brushing Leonard's wrist for just a moment. "I'll bring you some pancakes in the morning to make it up to you."

“No, you won't."

"Doughnuts then."

"Fine. You can crash here later if you don't want to walk across campus or Gaila kicks you out.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

"Still pissed at you for stealing my pie," Leonard grumbled.

"I know," Jim agreed. "I'm not really sorry, though. It was fucking delicious."

[Two]

It wasn't long before Jim was spending more nights in Leonard's quarters than not. Leonard's roommate--an amiable but overwhelmed young man named Jesse Moore--had withdrawn early in the semester and gone back to Wisconsin, leaving the one-bedroom suite half-empty. Jim--who shared a two-bedroom suite with three other roommates across campus--spent an occasional night in the spare bunk at first, always with Leonard's encouragement and usually when they'd been out to a bar. His appearances increased gradually after Leonard gave him the key code to the door, however, until solitary evenings became a rarity for Leonard and not the norm. If Jim failed to show up by the time Leonard climbed into his bunk, Leonard assumed it was because the kid had tumbled into another bunk with a hook up.

Though they bickered over a thousand little things, the two men got along easily. Jim liked the lights at eighty percent (Leonard preferred them at ninety), left wet bath towels lying around (particularly at the foot of Leonard's bed), and had appalling taste in music (he disdained music produced prior to 2248). Otherwise, though, he was a good roommate, reasonably neat with his few belongings and considerate of Leonard's hectic schedule of classwork and doctoring.

Leonard was confused, then, when articles of his wardrobe disappeared from his closet. Some of his threadbare med school t-shirts, the scrub pants he used as pajamas, and a pair of jeans so faded they were more grey than blue, all turned up without warning on Jim's person.

The small thefts weren't really an issue; Lord knew Leonard had enough old t-shirts and scrub pants to outfit them both. That Jim took Leonard's things without asking or even acknowledging it, though, was puzzling, and seemed out of character for the independent, fiercely private young man Leonard had grown to know.

As Leonard's attention shifted onto Jim in a new way, he realized how few personal effects his friend had brought to their quarters. There were a few sets of civilian clothes, some PADDs, and the odd stray item (paper bound books and a coffee mug decorated with the old Las Vegas sign). Outside of Jim's uniforms, though, there wasn't much else. Leonard knew that Jim hadn't been carrying a bag when he'd boarded the shuttle at Riverside, but surely he's sent for his things after he'd arrived ... hadn't he?

His gut twisting unpleasantly, Leonard realized that while Jim had insinuated himself into Leonard's existence, Leonard knew next to nothing about Jim apart from his famous parents and the tiny Iowa town where they'd met. Jim didn't speak about family or friends, spent next to no time in his assigned quarters now, and seemed entirely comfortable living out of a duffel bag. Leonard began to wonder if there anyone watching out for Jim Kirk back in Iowa. Perhaps, he concluded, Jim's independent nature was a by-product of being forced to watch out for himself rather than a personality trait that had been nurtured.

One evening, Leonard let himself into his quarters and tossed a carrier bag to Jim before making his way to the kitchenette with a second bag of take-out food. He'd unpacked most of the bag when he heard Jim's steps behind him.

"What are these, Bones?"

"Scrubs," Leonard replied succinctly. "I picked up some shirts and pants after my shift--figured you could wear them instead of mine."

The heavy silence that followed caught Leonard's attention immediately. When he turned around, Jim was staring at him, his brow wrinkled.

"You should have told me it bothered you when I borrowed your stuff."

Leonard shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. You can borrow whatever you want, kid."

"What are these for then?" Jim asked, gesturing to the bag with his free hand.

"They're for wearing," Leonard replied, turning to pull dinner plates from the cabinet over the sink.

Another long, silent moment passed before Jim spoke again. "So you should wear them then."

Leonard picked up a container of gyoza. "What for? The old scrubs and shirts suit me fine -- I don't need new ones."

"And I don't need you to dress me."

It was the quiet finality in Jim's words that made Leonard's look up again. He put down the container of food, noting the mulish--and very familiar--expression on Jim's face, and wondered briefly why such a simple thing had become so complicated. After a moment, he shrugged again and resumed portioning food onto his plate.

"Okay. Why don't you just put the new stuff in with the old in my closet, and that way we can both wear them." Picking up his plate, Leonard paused to pull two beers from the fridge, handing one to Jim as he walked out of the kitchenette. "There are soba noodles in the bag," he remembered to call out as he settled himself on the futon. "I remembered what you said about wheat noodles upsetting your stomach."

A news broadcast on the vid screen covered the lingering silence from the kitchen, though Jim emerged a few minutes later with the container of noodles and his beer, the bag of scrubs tucked under one arm. Neither man mentioned the clothing again, opting instead to eat and study, the quiet largely unbroken except by the sound of news broadcasts on the vid screen or the occasional chirp of a comm.

Immersed in diagramming a Gorn virus mutation, Leonard continued working long after Jim went to bed. He tried to be quiet when he finally staggered into the bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and crawling into his bunk at almost 0200 hours. The edges of his world were soft with sleep when Jim cleared his throat. Jerked back into wakefulness, Leonard turned his head toward Jim's bunk, just able to make out Jim's wide open eyes in the glow of the chronometer.

"You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Leonard frowned, aware that Jim's active mind sometimes made it hard for him to sleep. "There are sleeping aids in my kit if you need one."

He closed his eyes again, listening as Jim hauled himself out of his bunk and padded through the dark to the drawer in the kitchenette that held the med-kit. He was dozing, floating in that space between waking and sleeping, when he felt fingers trail lightly over his wrist, and heard Jim's quiet, murmured words.

"Thanks, Bones."

[Three]

Leonard tried hard not to overreact when he saw the data chip in the palm of Jim's hand. He took a long breath, reminding himself that Jim had no idea what kind of data the chip held or why it was important to Leonard. Jim hadn't even known the chip existed when he'd lost his PADD stylus and asked to borrow one of Leonard's. Without thinking, Leonard had waved at the top drawer of the desk, telling Jim to help himself to whatever he needed.

He'd meant what he said. Leonard wasn't a materialistic man and he was already accustomed to sharing all manner of things with Jim, from food to clothes to shelter. Leonard knew the chip was in the top drawer of his desk; he'd just never imagined anyone would find it or care to pull it from its casing.

He glanced up when Jim hummed thoughtfully, then sat frozen as the kid turned toward him with a the slim blue chip, unaware that he was holding data that had been passed down through several generations of McCoy men to Leonard.

"What's this, Bones?"

Leonard nearly sprang out of his seat to cross the room. Jim's expression of surprise forced him to take a breath, though it did nothing to calm the thumping of Leonard's heart or cool the blood that flushed his cheeks.

"What's it look like?" he replied, his lips pursed as he plucked the chip from Jim's hand.

Jim looked at Leonard, his eyebrows rising further. "Well, it looks like a data chip, Bones. I was more curious about what's on it." His lips curled into a smirk. "It's your porn collection, isn't it? Tell me the truth now."

With a wry laugh, Leonard slipped the chip back into its casing. "I don't have a porn collection, you boob, and if I did, you'd have hacked the whole damned thing by now."

He'd already turned toward the bedroom with the case in his hand when Jim caught him by the wrist. Jim was smiling when Leonard looked at him, but apologetically, and uncertainty clouded his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he began, his forehead creasing, "I didn't mean to--"

Leonard's chagrin drained away as he looked at the unease in his friend's face. "It's okay. You didn't know it was there, Jim. You've got nothing to apologize for."

Jim looked from the Leonard's face to the case in his hand and back again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not ... really," Leonard replied slowly. Jim blinked at him, clearly unsure of how to respond, and Leonard's heart squeezed a little when something a little like hurt flashed in Jim's eyes. "It's a family, thing, Jim, sort of ... private--"

"Then don't worry about it. You don't need to explain." The corners of Jim's lips curled up reassuringly, his strong fingers squeezing Leonard's wrist before he stepped back to bend over the desk drawer again, still searching for a stylus.

After a moment's hesitation, Leonard headed for the bedroom with the chip. The hurt he'd seen in Jim's expression stayed with him, though, settling like a weight in his chest, and he steeled himself before walking out of the bedroom, unsure of what to say but sure he couldn't stay silent. The chirp of Jim's comm interrupted Leonard's thoughts, though, followed immediately by his own, and ten minutes later they were headed to Flaherty's to celebrate the start of the midterm.

A week passed before Leonard broached the topic of the data chip again with Jim. He didn't have a plan, but then again he rarely did when it came to Jim Kirk; most of Leonard's best and worst laid plans always seemed to go up in smoke. On Saturday morning, he woke up and went to his closet for the chip, carrying it and his PADD into the kitchenette where Jim was leaning against the counter, still wearing a set of white scrubs and yawning over a cup of replicated coffee.

He grew still when Leonard placed the data chip case and PADD on the counter, his eyes sharp despite the early hour, and stayed quiet while Leonard fixed himself a coffee. Leonard was halfway through his cup before Jim finally gestured to the items on the counter.

"What's going on, Bones?"

Instead of speaking, Leonard opened the case and withdrew the data chip, slotting it quickly in the PADD. With a few touches, he called up the contents of the chip, acutely aware of Jim's gaze on him the whole time.

"My dad's great uncle, Ted, was a musician." Leonard's voice was smooth and low, the words he'd heard and repeated himself over the years falling easily from his lips. "Music and art have always been encouraged in my family as hobbies, and pretty much every McCoy can play an instrument or paint something pretty with watercolors. When it comes to careers, though, McCoys tend to gravitate toward the sciences, which means there are a lot a lot of doctors and research scientists in the family, even a 'fleet officer here and there.

"Every once in a while, though, someone like great-uncle Ted comes along, someone who makes the creative hobby their life." Leonard tapped the PADD screen, smiling when music filled the kitchen.

"Technically, Ted was my great-great-uncle of course, and I never met him. I heard stories, though, and I've always liked listening to these old recordings of him playing." Leonard finally lifted his gaze to meet Jim's, his heartbeat picking up a little at the slightly stunned expression on Jim’s face. "Ted could play almost any instrument, and he composed a lot of original music. His favorite thing to do, though, was play old songs on the guitar."

Jim nodded, his bright eyes fixed on Leonard's as they listened to the voice of a man long gone singing sweet words of love to a girl (or a boy) also long gone.

"I don't ... yeah, I don't recognize this song," Jim admitted ruefully.

"I wouldn't expect you to. Most of the songs on that chip are almost three hundred years old, and I know how you feel about old music." Leonard smiled and shook his head gently when Jim opened his mouth to protest. "Anyway, we don't know how Ted got to be fixated on twentieth century bands--Lord knows there were enough songs from his own time that were beautiful." Leonard looked down at the PADD with a fond smile. "He had good taste, though."

He tapped the screen again when Jim hummed in agreement and together they watched as images began to fill the screen. "These are scans of old family photographs," Leonard explained. "They go back pretty far, back to when photographs were first invented. Dad's great-grandma got the idea in her head to start digitizing Ted's music along with the family documents, and some of the other musically inclined McCoys added more."

Jim stood silently by Leonard's side as the images scrolled by and one song melted into another. Now and then, Leonard spoke, identifying faces, explaining the occasions captured, providing song titles. As the minutes passed, he wondered what was going on behind Jim blue-eyed gaze and the still enraptured expression on his handsome features. The two men had shared many things over the past several months, and Jim knew a kind of shorthand of Leonard's personal history. This was the first time Jim was getting a real glimpse of the man Leonard was outside of Starfleet, or, at least, the man Leonard had been before his life had gone to hell in a handbasket. His throat aching, Leonard thought once again that as much as he was showing Jim himself right now, he still knew almost nothing about his friend that couldn't be learned in a history lesson.

"The originals are in a storage vault back in Georgia," Leonard said quietly when the last image faded to black. He tapped the PADD, unslotting the data chip with real regret before slipping it back in its case. "The family adds to the archive, of course, as time goes on. This chip was my granddad's, and I Inherited it when my dad died. I haven’t bothered to update it with new files, though. Not yet."

Jim blew out a breath when Leonard glanced up from the PADD. "That was ... incredible, Bones, really. I've never seen anything like that before. Or heard anything like it. Jesus. Thanks for sharing it with me."

Leonard shrugged. "I didn't mean to be weird about it last week. It's ... been awhile since I went through everything. I was just surprised when you found the chip."

Expressions of disbelief and regret passed over Jim's face. "I'm surprised you don't play those songs more often."

The tentative note in Jim's voice made Leonard's eyes burn, just for a second. He'd stopped listening to the chip because it reminded him too much of all the things he'd lost not so long ago. He swallowed and moved to replicate more coffee before shaking himself inwardly, pushing down his melancholy thoughts.

He leveled a wry look at the kid, cocking an eyebrow for emphasis. "I'm a doctor, Jim. I'm busy."

"You're a cadet, Bones," Jim teased back, reaching past Leonard to place his cup in the sink. "You're only a doctor in your spare time."

Leonard opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut when Jim pointed at him suddenly.

"You sing or something, don't you?" Jim's eyes gleamed. "Or do you play an instrument?"

Leonard blinked in surprise, one hand rising to cover his heart. "Who, me? I--no, I'm not musical."

A knowing smile spread across Jim's face, making Leonard's stomach sink past his feet. "You're a liar, Bones," he called back over his shoulder as he walked out of the kitchen, ignoring Leonard's groan of protest. "Next time we go to Flaherty's, you and I are gonna kick some karaoke ass!"

“You don’t want to hear me sing, Jim!”

[Four]

The hiss of the door as it slid open caught Leonard's attention and he exchanged hellos with Jim, though he didn't look up from the white paper he was reading detailing off-world vaccines. They had spent the two-week winter break on campus, catching up on sleep and actually cooking for a change, and only returned to classes the day before. He got to his feet when ice rattled out of the replicator in the kitchenette.

Leaning against the counter, he watched as Jim poured liquor into two tumblers. "Since when do you take ice in your bourbon?" Leonard asked drolly. "I thought I schooled you better than that."

"You did, Bones." Jim's voice was weary, and something about his posture made Leonard's brow furrow. "The ice isn’t for the drinks." He was chuckling when he turned, a glass in one hand and a makeshift ice pack in the other, holding the glass out to Leonard while pressing the ice pack to an already impressive black eye.

Wordlessly accepting the glass, Leonard reached with his free hand to grasp Jim's wrist, holding him in place when he tried to step back. His stomach twisted as his eyes moved over the abrasions on Jim's face and neck and his split lip, assessing the damage while looking for more.

"What happened to you?"

Jim shrugged. "Advanced hand-to-hand." One side of his mouth pulled up in lopsided grin. "You were right by the way--you'd  have hated that class."

"I think I hate it anyway." Leonard shook his head fretfully. "What the hell were you guys doing? Beating each other with clubs and hammers?"

"Skipped the hammers." Jim sipped from his glass, grimacing slightly and Leonard pursed his lips when a red streak of blood stained the bourbon. "That's creative though. I'm impressed."

"And this," Leonard gestured at Jim's face, "this is what, par for the course? Or did you all tie up your instructor and start whaling on each other with no rhyme or reason?"

"It was a controlled environment, believe it or not," Jim replied, "and we weren't required to use the clubs. We matched up. Every winner of their match moved on to a second match. Those winners moved on to a third match, and so on."

"Until someone won the whole enchilada or died trying?" There was heat under Leonard's dry words. All Starfleet cadets underwent combat training, both in weapons and hand-to-hand; he'd already passed basic training in both areas. That Jim both enjoyed and excelled in combat training didn't make Leonard particularly happy, though, nor did Jim turning up looking beat to hell.

Jim smiled and pressed the ice pack against his eye again. "No one died, Doctor McCoy."

"Someone won, though, right?" Leonard's tone was knowing, and he nodded grimly when Jim's grin widened. "What was your prize--a monogrammed club of your own?"

Jim snorted into his glass. "No. I won the right to referee the next class and sit out on the combat part."

"Finally, someone using brains over brawn. Is your instructor a Vulcan?"

"Oh, just shut up and drink with me, Bones."

Leonard was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low and even, without any hint of judgment. "You always celebrate your birthday by getting beat up?"

Jim shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uneasy though his gaze held steady. "Well, last year I got drunk and beat up for my birthday, and I spent the night in jail. At least this year I'm getting credit for the beating." His twinkled when Leonard's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "You can help me with the drunk part if you want, too."

"Uh-huh. Why don't you go get cleaned up first," Leonard replied, trying hard not to laugh. "I'll regen your injuries once they're clean. You hurting anywhere else?"

"My ribs are sore. Just bruised, though." Jim hissed with discomfort when Leonard stepped forward to gently probe his side. "I'm fine Bones, you don't need to doctor me. It can wait 'til morning."

The doctor's lips pursed in disdain, though he held his tongue; both of them knew how he felt about Jim self-diagnosing. There was also no way his injuries would be left untreated.

With a grunt, Jim lifted his glass. "Just let me finish my drink."

"Tell you what." Stooping, Leonard opened a cabinet by Jim's knee, pulling out an elegant bottle filled with amber-colored liquor. "I picked up some sandwiches for dinner. Take a shower, I'll fix your face, and then we can eat and mix some real drinks."

Jim whistled appreciatively as he accepted the bottle, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Pike's the only person I know who drinks Four Roses Small Batch, Bones. You break into his office or something? Or did you brew this in one of your labs?"

"I'm a doctor, not a bootlegger, Jim." Leonard rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't steal it or make it. I do have a friend who told me where to get a bottle like that for a fair price, however."

Jim's blue eyes flicked from the bottle to meet Leonard's. Both men knew that Leonard's friend was Ryan Myers, a bartender at Flaherty's. Myers was charming, handsome, and very bright, and had been making passes at Leonard for weeks.

Leonard felt his face heat as Jim gazed at him, though his own did not waver. "Go on now, Jimmy," he said quietly, nodding when Jim's mouth curved in a very small smile at the rare use of that nickname. "Sooner you clean up, the sooner we can get to work on getting drunk, if that's what you want. Maybe just a little, since we have class tomorrow. I'd just as soon skip going to jail if that's all right with you, though."

The air seemed to warm with Jim's genuine laughter as he began to make his way out of the kitchenette. "Yeah, okay. See you in ten, Bones. And thanks."

[Five]

Every time Jim kissed him, Leonard felt himself fall a little further down the rabbit hole.

"Okay, I think they're gone," he murmured against Jim's outrageously soft lips, trying not to grunt when they pressed against his own again. "You can stop now, Jim."

A hum rumbled through Jim's chest when he pulled far enough away to meet Leonard's eyes. "And what if I don't want to stop, Bones?" His voice was low and slightly rough, and the combination made Leonard's breath catch. "What if I want to kiss the shit out of you all night instead?"

Leonard laughed, swearing breathlessly as his treacherous body continued to respond in ways he didn't want it to. "Jesus, kid. Only you."

"Only me what?" A frown worked its way across Jim's face, drawing his brows together and furrowing his brow.

"Only you would put off a pair of very interested Elasian girls by kissing your roommate."

Leonard knew that Jim enjoyed the company of both men and women, and Jim knew that Leonard felt the same; they'd discussed their sex lives often enough. Even so, that first, hot press of Jim's lips against his own had taken Leonard completely off guard. He'd flailed when Jim's arms curled around him, struggling not to drop his drink while the Elasians still caressing Jim’s body made sounds of interest. Fifteen minutes later, the off-world females had moved on and Leonard was shoving at Jim's shoulders, the need to create some space between them curling in his belly, increasing exponentially when Jim pressed forward again with a wicked grin.

"It worked though, right? Hell, I thought they’d lay off when you started singing--"

“I told you I had a terrible voice, Jim!”

“And you were not lying.”

Leonard snorted, sighing when Jim grinned fondly. “Why did you put those girls off, anyway?"

"Because Gaila's meeting us here tonight." Jim shrugged. "Elasians are warriors and they don’t like to share. The last thing Gaila needs is trouble of any kind--she's under enough scrutiny from the Academy." Jim brushed his nose against Leonard's. "So I used you as a human shield. The added bonus, though, is that you are one hell of a kisser."

"Yeah, and, like I said, you can stop now," Leonard gritted out, pushing Jim again until he finally took a step backward.

Jim pouted as he stared at Leonard, his hands lingering at Leonard's waist, his fingers digging in to Leonard's waist with maddening, delicious warmth. They were just drunk enough for everything to seem both serious and silly at the same time.

"You keep this game up, and you'll end up in bed alone. We both know that's not what you want."

"How does my kissing you end with me in bed alone?"

"Oh, come on, Jim." Leonard sighed with exasperation. "If Gaila thinks you've found another--" he faltered, waving a hand between them, "--distraction, she's gonna turn right around and walk her green self out of the bar."

He frowned when Jim laughed raucously.

"Oh, Bones, please. You know as well as I do that Gaila would be fucking thrilled if you were my distraction tonight--she's been trying to get you into bed with us since she met you."

Leonard stared at Jim with wide eyes. As a doctor, he was well aware of the intensely sexual nature of the Orion race. He’d never once thought, though, that the pretty, red-haired female truly meant it when she invited him back to her room. "I thought she was just playing around. All those times she tried to sweet talk me into doing something with the two of you--"

"She was dead serious."

Jim’s narrowed eyes ran over Leonard, the unconcealed desire in his expression making the doctor swallow hard. Jim stepped forward to kiss Leonard again with a slow deliberation that nearly made Leonard's head swirl. His eyes slid closed when Jim's tongue touched his lips, teasing between them to slide against Leonard's, and fire ran under his skin when Jim groaned. Gasping, Leonard wrenched his mouth free, his fingers fisting Jim's shirt in a desperate bid to control his body's reactions. Jim pressed his forehead to Leonard's with another groan, his breath ghosting over Leonard's lips and chin when he spoke again.

"C'mon, Bones. Live a little. Take a walk on the wild side."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "You've been listening to Uncle Ted's songs again, haven't you?" He grinned when Jim chuckled.

"I have, as a matter of fact. Have I thanked you again for making me a copy of the chip?"

"If I say you're welcome, will you stop dropping song lyrics into everyday conversation?"

"But you love it when I lyric you, Bones, admit it."

"I'm unfamiliar with that idiom," a sweet voice said suddenly, very close to Leonard's ear, "but perhaps one of you would be so kind as to explain it to me."

Leonard jerked back hard, biting back a yelp as his head connected with the wall behind him and glaring balefully at Jim and Gaila when they laughed.

"Goodness, Doctor, you must be more careful," the Orion chided, one slim green hand coming up to rub the back of Leonard's skull.

"No worries, Miss Gaila." He twisted his lips into a smile. "There's no lasting damage."

The Orion's smile in return was dazzling. "Oh, I am glad. It would be most distressing to lose you to a head injury for the evening, now that I have you where I want you."

Gaila stepped closer, her arms sliding around Jim's and Leonard's waists as she laid her head on Jim's shoulder. Leonard looked at the two lovely creatures literally in his arms, at their wide, blue eyes shining with desire, humor, and--in Jim's case--cunning. The cool shock that jolted through Leonard cleared his head.

"Actually, this is where I'm going to get off the party train, kids." He slid past Jim and Gaila’s slim, lovely bodies, shaking his head when their voices rose in protest.

"Don't leave now, Bones," Jim urged, one hand grasping at Leonard even as the doctor was pulling away. "Things are just starting to get interesting!"

Those words slipped under Leonard's skin like icy splinters, but he managed to smirk instead of wincing. "Well goddamn, Kirk, you're gonna hurt my feelings," he drawled, quirking an eyebrow as the humor faded from Jim's expression. "See if I ever kiss you again."

"I didn't mean it that way," Jim said quickly, his free hand coming up to lock around Leonard's wrist. There was an odd light in his eyes that surprised Leonard, something earnest and remorseful. "Bones, wait--"

"It's okay, kid." Leonard smiled tiredly. "Don't worry about it."

He leaned to press a kiss to Gaila's cheek then clapped Jim on the shoulder when Jim looked as though he wanted to argue.

"I’ve got a clinic shift tomorrow and I need to be getting back anyway. Ya'll have fun and be safe."

"I’m not entirely sure that it is possible to simultaneously accomplish both of those directives, Leonard." Gaila’s furrowed brow made him chuckle. "But we can certainly try."

Leonard smoothed a red curl back from Gaila’s forehead. "That's my girl. Jim can answer questions if you have them--he’s had a lot of practice with fun. I'd be willing to bet with safety, too."

He winked, biting back a grin at Jim's pink cheeks before he turned and headed for the door. He knew better than to dwell on the sting of Jim’s words for very long; nothing that had happened between them was meant to be taken seriously. Even if a small part of Leonard longed for something different.

It was very late or very early when Leonard woke. The mattress beside him dipped and, even half asleep, Leonard recognized the clean smell of Jim’s skin under the masks of beer, tobacco smoke, and the spicy sweetness of Orion girl.

Rolling onto his side, Leonard grumbled quietly as Jim’s body nudged in beside him, the skin on his long limbs still cool from the walk home. "You lost, kid? This is my bed."

"I know," came the sighing reply.

"What are you doin'?"

"Tryin' to sleep."

"You can't do that in your bed?"

Jim grunted in a way that told Leonard he was shaking his head. "You shoulda stayed out with me, Bones. I missed you.”

“Uh-huh."

"It's true," Jim insisted, inching along the mattress to get closer.

"How drunk are you, kid?”

"Not very ...” The pause lengthened until Leonard thought that Jim had fallen asleep. He was almost dozing himself when Jim spoke again. “Sober enough get myself home."

Leonard yawned. “Gaila kick you out?”

“Didn’t want to stay,” Jim murmured drowsily. “Rather be in my own bed.”

“This isn’t your bed, Jim.”

Jim laughed softly, his breath ghosting warm against the back of Leonard’s neck, the long fingers of one hand curling around Leonard’s hip. “No, it isn't. This is better than my bed, Bones.”

[+One]

Leonard forced himself out of bed, but decided against breakfast with Jim in the mess hall; he didn't have an appetite and the idea of being surrounded by so many cheery people was impossible. He replicated some coffee instead, choking down as much as he could bear before leaving for class.

Thankfully, his labs and lectures gave Leonard something to focus on instead of the dark thoughts and memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Normally, he was able to keep his demons at bay; like so many in his profession, the ability to compartmentalize his emotions was a key to doing his job well. Today, though, much more so than the year before, Leonard struggled to keep himself in check.

By the time he began his shift at the clinic, the strain of putting on a neutral face had become exhausting; the only thing Leonard wanted was to go back home and crawl back into bed. Seeing patients and updating charts helped, though, keeping his thoughts from wandering and also tiring out his body. At half-past midnight, more than an hour after his shift was supposed to have ended, Leonard walked out into the chilly night air feeling nothing but numb.

He blew out a long breath when he glanced up to see his hand moving toward the keypad beside the door of his quarters, aware that he had no memory of the walk from the clinic back to his dorm. It had been a long time since he'd experienced an extended walking blackout, but Leonard knew that fatigue and lack of food had as much to do with his current state of mind as did the things haunting his head. He let himself in to his quarters, hopeful that he'd exhausted his body and mind enough to sleep. He couldn't bring himself to hope that things would feel less bleak the next time he woke up.

More than an hour later, however, he was still awake, his eyes open to the darkness while Jim slept on in the next bunk. Leonard thought about getting up, taking his PADD out to the futon in the living area, maybe replicating something warm to drink. He thought about getting dressed again and going out to Flaherty's where he could stay until last call, using booze to smooth the jagged edges of his heart. He thought about finding the sleep aids he kept in his med-kid in the kitchenette, and the double-dose that would put him under for at least the next twelve hours. He wondered--two years too late--whether crying would loosen the knot in his chest and stop this anniversary from putting him on his ass emotionally every year.

Leonard did none of these things, though. He was too tired to act, too tired even to think about moving, no matter how much he ached.

This time, when the mattress dipped and Jim slid in beside him, Leonard didn't move. As the heat of Jim's skin soaked into his own, Leonard realized how cold he was, and he closed his eyes, breathing in Jim’s smell, his heart squeezing when a warm hand closed around his elbow.

It was another minute before Jim spoke, his voice grave, without a trace of teasing. "What's wrong?"

"Just tired." Leonard's voice was threadbare as he lied, but he moved one hand to cover Jim's.

"I've been comming you all day, Bones," Jim told him, his thumb moving slowly, tracing small circles into Leonard's skin. "You looked sort of wrecked this morning when I left. Started to wonder if you were okay when I didn't hear back."

"Sorry. I ...  lost track of time. My shift at the clinic went over, too."

"So what's keeping you up? You're usually out like a light when you get back from the clinic, Bones. I'm lucky to get a 'damnit, Jim' out of you before you're snoring."

Leonard smiled faintly, almost sighing when he felt Jim shift, edging closer in the narrow bunk. "I do not snore."

"Oh, you so do, my man, but it's pretty minor as snoring goes." Jim's voice was fond, and this time when he shifted and laid one cheek against Leonard's shoulder, Leonard did sigh. "I'd still rather hear about what's keeping you up, though, if you want to talk."

It took a moment for Leonard to answer. He hadn't talked about what this date meant to him with anyone. He'd never wanted to talk about it, not even with Jocelyn, though--to her credit--she had tried that first year, before everything between them went irrevocably to shit.

Now, however, he found the words almost without trying. He wondered if it was because Jim battled his own demons, too many of which he still refused to discuss. Or if it was because like Leonard, Jim had almost no family to speak of; he would understand the weight of Leonard's loss like few others. Or if it was because Jim had crawled into bed with him and used his warmth and touch to anchor Leonard when he was feeling lost.

"I told you that my dad died," Leonard began, "and that it was pretty recent. Yesterday was the second anniversary of his death." He paused when Jim's hold on him tightened ever so slightly.

"That first year after Dad had gone, things with Jocelyn went bad, too. We'd been shaky for a while, and when it started to really spiral, I spent all of my time trying to fix things with her or working. I thought about my dad, of course. I missed him, Jesus, so much. But I had other things to keep my mind busy. I didn't really let myself grieve for him.

"The next year was different." Leonard swallowed hard. "My wife was gone, most of our friends didn't want to talk to me, and I was living in a depressing walk-up apartment a block from the hospital. When the first anniversary of Dad's death rolled around, I handled it the same way I'd been handled a lot of things; I pretended it wasn't happening. I went out for some drinks with my coworkers and didn't go home until it was easy to forget I should be sad because Dad was gone."

Jim said nothing when Leonard paused again, simply inching closer, slipping his arm under Leonard's to draw him close. Leonard focused on breathing while his body soaked up the heat of Jim's. Jim's front was against Leonard's back, their bodies pressed together from shoulders to knees, their feet and ankles intertwined.

"Was this anniversary better or worse, Bones?" Jim asked finally, his voice rumbling across Leonard's back.

"Worse, I think," Leonard replied at once. "When I enlisted, I promised myself I wouldn't put things like this off anymore. No more hiding, no more fighting with the wife or going to a bar. Just ... facing it, or as much as I can, anyway."

"How did it go?"

"Pretty much the way I expected--it was an epic shitfest."

Leonard smiled again when he felt Jim's cheek pull up in a grin against his shoulder, and he kept smiling though his eyes stung and his chest ached.

"I'm sorry about your Dad, Bones," Jim murmured. He turned his head, pressing his lips and nose into the skin over Leonard's shoulder, melting the last of Leonard's numbness with that simple touch.

"Yeah. Me too," Leonard whispered, warmth flooding his body when another sweet kiss fell against his shoulder.

They lay wrapped up in each other for a long time while Leonard talked. He told Jim about David McCoy and the illness that had slowly stolen his life. About the terrible thing David had asked of Leonard when his pain had become too great and the way Leonard’s world had fallen apart in the aftermath of that decision. As he spoke, Leonard felt the long hours he’d spent trying to hold himself together that day slowly fall away and he accepted Jim's chaste, wordless kisses gratefully. With each one, he ached a little less.

"What do you need, Bones?" Jim asked drowsily when Leonard fell silent, his palm splayed across the center of Leonard's chest.

Leonard covered the hand resting over his heart with one of his own, sure that he could sleep now if he tried. "This. This is good, Jim."