Archive of Our Own

It was a quiet sound. Easy to mistake for the squelch of a shoe as the sky let out a low rumble of thunder and the clouds continued to belch rain down upon the earth. Or it would have been, if Jim were actually trudging along through the puddles on the sidewalk. But no, Jim happened to be standing still, appreciating the storm, eyes closed and face turned up toward the sky as the rain came down and soaked him to the bone. Bone... ha! Jim’s lips curved up into a smile unconsciously. Bones was going to have a fit when he saw that Jim had forgotten his umbrella, even after he had been reminded. Twice.

Jim heard the sound again and there was definitely no way for it to be mistaken for the squeak of his ratty Chucks on the wet pavement. He looked around for the source of the noise, bringing his hand up like a visor to shield his eyes from the rain as he squinted. There! Farther up the sidewalk, a flash of yellow caught his eye. Upon closer investigation, Jim discovered it was two ducklings caught in the current of rainwater moving swiftly along the side of the curb.

Without thinking, Jim leapt into action. He knelt down near where the ducklings were struggling and then snagged them both before they could sweep past. He straightened and cradled them both in his hands—they were just tiny little things under the mud and leaves that were stuck to their fluffy down feathers—and they peeped, what Jim took to mean, “thank you so much for saving us, handsome stranger!” Suffice it to say his heart was sold instantly. They must have been separated from their momma somehow. He couldn't just leave them alone in the storm to fend for themselves so he opened his leather jacket, held them snug to his chest despite the mud, and zipped it closed to trap the warmth inside.

If he hurried, Jim would be able to make it home with plenty of time before Bones got there. He’d figure out how to hide the ducklings from him on the way.

oOo

When Jim managed to get in the front door, fumbling keys with one freezing, wet hand and trying not to let the ducklings slip out of his jacket with the other, he made a beeline for the bathroom, trailing dirty footprints as he went. He wrestled the squirming ducklings into the bathtub, thankfully without dropping them because that probably would have ended in a disaster. Who knew what kind trouble a loose, muddy animal could get into? He watched them for a moment and when he was satisfied they couldn’t actually climb up the slippery sides of the porcelain tub he turned on his heel and headed for the computer to search for how to properly care for ducklings, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his sodden clothes along the way.

While he waited for the laptop to boot up he slipped into a dry t-shirt and sweatpants, and scrubbed a towel over his wet hair, making it stand up in awkward little tufts. He also took a towel to the floor and mopped up the water he had tracked through the house. Because while Jim was many things (energetic, impulsive, a little bit of a cocky asshole and a whole lot of genius), insane was not one of them—Bones loved him, sure, but he was not above threatening bodily harm (castration was a popular choice) when Jim did something he did not particularly like or approve of. His husband liked to keep a reasonably clean house, and who was Jim to test the extent of Bones’ ire (he had never given him a reason to follow through on the threats, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. He liked where all his bits and pieces currently resided, thank you very much).

“How to care for ducklings” seemed a little vague, but Jim didn’t think Google would give a shit if he had typed “I rescued these baby ducks from being washed down a storm drain and now I don’t know what to do please help.” Most of the websites he clicked on said the same things: don’t let them drown, keep stuff the right temperature, shallow bowls, always have water with food—piece of cake. He set about gathering up supplies and hustling into the bathroom to get to work on cleaning up the little guys.

Jim hummed as he gently washed the mud off the ducklings to reveal golden yellow feathers and set up the bathtub as a temporary home until he figured out what to do with them. He occasionally crooned at them directly, telling them both how adorable they were and how Bones can be really scary at first because he likes to glare, but really he’s all bark and no bite and there’s no need for them to worry.

And just as Jim was musing over names and what to do when Bones actually got home, well, speak of the devil because that was him coming in the front door right now.

oOo

It was like Bones had a sixth sense when Jim had done something that landed on the “Things Jim Is Absolutely Not Supposed To Do” list. All Jim had to do was lean nonchalantly against the bathroom door frame and say “Hey Bones!” and Bones froze from where he was bent over, hopping on one foot trying to tug off his other shoe. He stood up and narrowed his eyes at Jim, shoe struggle abandoned. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?” he asked, picture of innocence.

Bones’ glare intensified. He stared at Jim for a few more seconds, as if his level of scrutiny gave him spontaneous mind reading powers. “You’ve always done somethin’,” he grumbled. He returned to the task of prying off his shoe. Why he didn’t just untie the damn thing, Jim didn’t know, but it finally dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Finally clad in socks, Bones padded over to where Jim was blocking passage to the bathroom. Bones raised an eyebrow when Jim refused to budge. “I need to take a leak.”

A slightly panicked look crossed Jim’s face for a brief second before he could school it back into casualness. He hadn’t really had a plan, but he had failed to factor in basic human functions. He thought he might have some time to smuggle the ducklings out, but that was clearly not the case anymore.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Bones growled.

“Nothing!”

“Dammit, Jim!”

And then they were grappling—Jim trying to keep Bones from the door and Bones trying to reach it. They wrestled each other down to the floor. Jim landed on top, he seemingly had the upperhand, but Bones managed to flip them easily. Jim was stunned momentarily, not having expected Bones to do so. Bones took the opportunity to jump for the door and Jim grabbed at his ankle, but it was fruitless—Bones was quick; he was already too far out of reach.

“Their names are Castor and Pollux and I’m keeping them!” Jim cried out as Bones barged his way into the bathroom.

Yellow fluffballs peeped at Bones from the tub, not the least bit perturbed at the murderous expression on his face. Jim struggled to his feet and stopped in the doorway, just in time to see Bones pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh.

Bones turned to face Jim. He knew this was the opening to say persuade Bones to keep the ducklings. And it was possibly his only chance before Bones made up his mind, threw his decision in a locked safe, and buried it six feet down under cement. It was time to break out the puppy eyes.

The longer he stared at Jim, the more Bones looked conflicted. On one hand, number ten on the list of “Things Jim Is Absolutely Not Supposed To Do” was Bring Home Strays. They were dirty and typically riddled with diseases, and while Bones felt bad for them, there was always that high risk of someone—human or animal—getting hurt because of a too-soft heart. But on the other… it was really hard to resist those eyes.

“A stray dog is one thing, Jim, but ducks?”

Jim’s lower lip jutted out into a pout.

Bones sputtered, “You can’t… you can’t just bat your eyelashes an’ pout an’ think I can be won over that easily!”

Jim tilted his head slightly and stepped closer and closer to Bones, who was clearly losing the battle raging in his head. But it turned out that a pouting puppy face from Jim was enough after all—Bones finally let out a loud, frustrated sigh, resigned to his new fate as co-duck owner. Jim wrapped his arms around Bones’ waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder.

“You’re a grown-ass man. You can’t jus’ pout to get what you want,” Bones groused, even as his hands came up to rest on either side of Jim’s hips. “I don’t wanna be any part of this. You’re responsible, Jim.”

Jim turned his head to nuzzle his favorite spot under Bones’ ear. “I love you,” he murmured in thanks.

Bones allowed his lips to curve up into a smile even though Jim couldn’t see. “So, Castor and Pollux, huh?” he asked dryly.

“Shut up,” Jim said, pulling away and breaking their embrace. He took Bones’ left hand in his right as he turned to look at the ducklings exploring the bathtub. He linked their fingers together and smiled abashedly. “It was the first thing I thought of. There’s two of them and, y’know, Gemini the Twins and—”

“Nerd.”

Jim rolled his eyes and chose not to make a comment, because really, if they were going to argue over who was the bigger nerd… it wasn’t as if Bones could hide his nerdiness from Jim. They were married after all. He knew all about the boxes of comics and video games and educational books.

“It’ll be great, Bones,” Jim said with certainty. “You’ll love them.”

“I hate you,” was all Bones had to say.

Jim looked down at their interlocked fingers. Bones’ gold wedding band, shining from the overhead lights, stood out like a beacon, like a star at the center of a solar system calling him home. Jim smiled. “No you don’t.”