Archive of Our Own ^beta

[Stardate 2259.71]

Jim can’t remember being dead. 

People are always disappointed when he says that. Well, I was barely dead, Jim has taken to saying, co-opting Bones’s joke as his own. If nothing else, it does something to dissuade all those annoying philosophical questions. What does Jim know about the afterlife — and what does he care, really, when he was lucky enough to be born and reborn during a time when he can do nothing but chase the stars?  

It’s not as though people ever ask the right questions. He doesn’t remember being dead, but the waking up he remembers. The white light of the hospital burning through his eyelids, that moment of confusion, every cell in his body feeling wrong. The memories hit him before he even opened his eyes — the chaos of seeing Pike die, watching his crewmembers die, sacrificing himself. 

But, finally, Jim was still. 

He could feel the grief, but it didn’t sting anymore, like it was from another age. Jim knew there’d be a price to pay for his resurrection, but at least in this one way, he felt changed for the better. 

Then he opened his eyes to Bones. Jim still remembers like an imprint: Bones dressed all in white, frowning at his vitals, grumpy and pissed off and so wonderfully there. Their eyes met again. Just that was enough for all the chaos in Jim’s head to quiet back down. Then Bones made a joke, started in with his tricorder, put his hands on Jim’s face. 

Even in his half-dead haze, Jim could tell Bones was different. 

He thought that he and Bones were set in stone; they’d known each other for years now. He knows Bones’s face better than his own — he thought he’d seen every single one of Bones’s expressions. His trademark scowl, his incredulous eyebrow raise, that wide grin. His brow furrowed in thought over a tricorder. The sleepy lull of his head after studying all night at the Academy. His slow, red-eyed drunkenness. Heavy-lidded, just-woken-up annoyance. The white-faced grimace before the transporter energizes. Even that carefully clinical flicker of his gaze over Jim now and then, mouth already open to lob some criticism or so-called medical order. And then, too, the way his face gets soft and gentle when Jim really needs it. 

Jim’s seen him look a million ways. 

But never like this. Bones had never looked at him with love before — the real, romantic kind. It didn’t take any analysis or extrapolation. Even if Jim had never seen it on anyone’s face — let alone from Bones — he knew his best friend too well not to recognize it. 

And Jim was different, too. Not just because of the small fact that he was very recently lying there dead, but something else altogether. Suddenly Bones was all he wanted to see. Maybe Bones played with the devil and cheated death and only narrowly got out of being court-martialed, and maybe all Jim did was wake up. But Jim knew something, down deep in his soul that got a glimpse of another place.

He wouldn’t have come back to life for anyone else.  

[Stardate 2260.318]

“Activate deflectors,” Jim says, staring at the screen. 

Three years ago, he might have thought receiving a distress call about a large asteroid heading straight for a Class M planet would be an exciting adventure. This was the sort of thing he dreamt about at the Academy: a heroic act, a whole human colony to save, no possible negative repercussions at all. And, of course, it still is exciting — much more exciting than the usual tasks of hunting for dilithium crystals or making star maps or brokering peace treaties between angry alien planets — but Jim’s learned that shooting deflectors at an asteroid is only a small piece of the puzzle. Earlier, he heard Spock’s always-thorough analysis of the human colony’s city construction (the equivalent of a very small town), the exact size of the asteroid (big), the speed (fast), the point where the asteroid has to be deflected by (still safely many kilometers away). 

Now, at least, he gets to finally see some action for all his trouble. He leans forward in his chair as the green deflector lights up the bridge, drilling into the side of the asteroid. 

“Degree of deflection, Mr. Sulu,” he prompts once the beam stops, blinking in the comparative darkness. The turbolift doors open, and Bones strides forward, looking between Jim and the screen. Jim would never admit it, but Bones’s presence always makes him sit just a little straighter, think for that split-second longer, feel more in control. He gives Bones a half-smile, and then Bones takes his permanent place standing to the left of Jim’s chair, haunting his peripheral vision as always. 

“Not quite enough, Captain,” Sulu says. “Only point-one-three-seven degrees.”

“We are approaching the deflection point, Captain,” Spock says. 

Bones crosses his arms over his chest, already getting agitated, probably over the potential — but very unlikely — danger. Instead of distracting him, it has the confusing effect of pulling all of Jim’s negativity out of him. Jim leans his elbow onto the correct button on the arm of his chair to call down to Engineering. “Mr. Scott,” he says, “divert all auxiliary power to deflectors.”

“Aye, Sir.” Just a brief pause, and then: “Done, Captain.”

“Activate deflectors again, Mr. Sulu,” Jim says. 

“Yes, Sir.”

The green light that fills the bridge is even brighter, and Jim can tell just from the magnified screen that it was enough this time. He’s grinning even before Sulu gives the official confirmation that the asteroid has been successfully diverted. 

Bones takes a step forward, uncrossing his arms to give Jim’s shoulder a squeeze, touch lingering a second longer than it would have two years ago. Jim can feel the way his fingertips trail over the green fabric — lately, Bones has been getting a certain look in his eyes when Jim wears his green shirt, but that only makes Jim wear it more often. 

“Mr. Sulu, take us to the planet — warp two.” Without waiting for a response, Jim calls down to Engineering again, saying, “Scotty, restore auxiliary power, then meet us in the transporter room.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Jim jumps off the chair, grabbing Bones by the arm and pulling him back towards the turbolift. “Come on, Spock, let’s beam down and tell them the good news.”

“That s’posed to be an invitation to me, too?” Bones asks, looking pointedly down at Jim’s hand, but he lets himself be dragged across the bridge. When he looks back at Jim, it’s that way he’s had more and more often lately, so often Jim’s convinced he’s not even doing it on purpose — those hazel eyes heavy-lidded with lust, like he wants Jim to drag him all the way back to his quarters. Jim has a sudden, ultra-realistic vision of not even waiting for Spock, just pulling Bones into the turbolift by themselves — pushing Bones against the wall, hands on his face, kissing him for the first time, planets aligning.

The first time. Kissing has never been anything serious for Jim, never anything that needed to be demarcated and analyzed. Half the time they’re on a mission he has to kiss someone to get them all out of trouble. But it would be different with Bones. And then he and Bones would be different. 

Permanently different. 

Jim clears his throat and forces a laugh, pausing just outside the turbolift. “Mr. Sulu, get into orbit and then take the conn.”

“Levinius III,” Spock says, crouching down to run his tricorder over the ground. “The planet was occupied until an estimated two-hundred-and-thirty years ago, when an epidemic took out the previous population.” 

Bones is frowning and jittery the way he always is after going through the transporter, and Scotty is looking around with interest. They’ve landed squarely in the center of town — ‘town’ being a generous term, with nothing more than a few moderately sized buildings surrounded by a small, disorganized collection of houses. The population has only ever been a thousand at most, the hot days and cold nights not anyone’s ideal climate. 

“They were weakened from starvation first,” Jim says, turning over a rock with his boot. “It’s not a planet for agriculture.”

“Our intrepid travelers,” a female voice says from behind them, and they all turn around. She radiates authority — not to mention the fact that she’s extremely beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes. “We’ve actually found several plants adaptable to the climate, if you’d like to see later. I’m Odona Gideon, they call me the mayor here.” Before Jim can begin introducing everyone, she turns her gaze back to him and adds, “You’re Captain Kirk.”

He nods, quickly introducing the other three men to her. He can tell by her gaze that she’s attracted to him — he hones in on it like he would any other strategy, even though he doubts he’ll need to get them out of any scrapes this time. 

“We got your distress call,” Jim tells her, barely needing to think about what he’s going to say, but that doesn’t stop him from being immediately distracted when another woman appears behind Odona. “We, um—” he tries to continue, but he breaks off. The woman’s eyes are amber-colored, more like molten gold than anything. They’re too big and too far apart, and there’s something about the shape of her face that doesn’t look entirely human. 

“The asteroid has been successfully deflected,” Spock interjects, throwing just one — very subtle but very loud — admonishing look at Jim. 

The newcomer makes a sound in her throat that almost sounds disapproving, and Odona just levels the same grin at them and says, “This is Enna. She’s descended from the last survivor of this planet.” Jim opens his mouth, but Odona plows on, “This world’s end was actually predicted centuries ago — the former natives had some precognitive abilities. Among other things.” Jim’s eyes narrow at the vague statement, but he doesn’t press Odona as she glances at Enna, who just inclines her head slightly. “So we’ve been planning to — well, we always thought it was just a dumb, wrong prediction really — and I guess it still is, thanks to you. We’re actually having a party tonight — an End of the World Party.” She chuckles self-deprecatingly, seeming very aware that she planned something at the exact intersection of morbid and silly. “We’d love to welcome anyone from the Enterprise who’d like to come. It’s not much — just bonfires and food and drinks. Nothing fancy, you understand — there’s not much fancy around here — but it should be fun.”

“Thank you,” Jim says automatically, glancing at Spock. “We’ll consider it.”

Spock just looks back at him, none of the usual minute shifts in his expression that would indicate if he’s for or against the idea. Jim knows that there’s no reason not to authorize shore leave — it’s a small, human colony, with the biggest threat the uncomfortably hot temperatures during the day. They barely have running water, let alone weapons. If members of the crew want to sit around a fire and drink bathtub gin, that should be their prerogative. The Enterprise doesn’t have anything scheduled until they need to rendezvous at the nearest starbase in four days. More than enough time for a good old-fashioned party and hangover. 

That doesn’t stop Jim from feeling something in his gut about the whole situation. It doesn’t help matters when Enna takes a step forward. Jim wonders if she’s about to give them a very delayed greeting, but, instead, she reaches out for Bones, and it takes all of Jim’s self-control not to yank Bones over to him. 

“You’ve felt it before, haven’t you?” she asks him, her voice sounding much, much older than she looks. “You’ve felt the world end.” She’s got a vice-like grip on Bones’s arm, and Bones just stands stock-still. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, Southern accent more pronounced than ever. “That was Mr. Spock, actually.”

Spock just raises one eyebrow, while Jim finally grabs Bones, gripping the back of his shirt hard. His hand balls up in a tight fist around the blue fabric, and he isn’t sure what it is that has him this freaked out. There shouldn’t be anything that anyone knows about Bones better than Jim does, let alone some alien who’s barely met him. 

Enna pulls away from Bones slowly and reluctantly, like there’s an invisible compulsion between them. Once she’s no longer touching him, Bones takes a step closer to Jim, and Jim exhales — not realizing until then that he’s been holding his breath. He loosens his hold on Bones’s shirt but keeps his hand on his back.

“The world isn’t ending,” Jim says, voice slipping out of his careful Federation-approved tone, and he realizes he’s scowling. “We deflected the asteroid.” 

Odona looks at him apologetically, but Jim has the sudden, intense urge to be back on his ship — not an unusual feeling, even though it seems more urgent than ever right now. He glances at Scotty, who understands without a word, and pulls out his comm. 

Jim keeps hold of Bones even when they beam back to the ship. 

Scotty immediately goes behind the controls while Spock stands in the doorway, obviously waiting for Jim. But Jim just stays on the transporter pad with Bones, gripping his shirt more tightly, not knowing what he wants — of all the things in his fucking world, why is this the one thing he can’t let himself think about. Maybe if he could freeze them right here — right on the precipice of the world’s end — he could learn all the secrets of the universe. He could have some grand, fateful confirmation that he’s right — that this thing he feels for Bones is the same that he knows Bones feels for him. 

That this won’t become another thing he’s fucked up.

The world’s not ending, the much more rational side of himself informs him. But that doesn’t stop him from feeling — like he has ever since that alien first touched him — that Bones might pull away from him. And that really would fucking destroy him. 

But Spock needs him and the crew needs him and the least important thing in the world is an only-moderately-strange alien saying something weird. Just another day in the ‘Fleet, really. 

And yet he can’t let go. 

Bones just looks at him steadily, one eyebrow lifting, daring him to do something. When Jim doesn’t, he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head and takes a step forward, forcing Jim’s hand to drop. “C’mon, Jim. Stop bein’ ridiculous.”

Jim sighs and leads them back to the bridge. 

Jim storms into medbay as soon as his shift is over, immediately looking around for Bones — feeling like he’ll lose it if he doesn’t see him soon. But the only people here are two engineers sitting on biobeds, with Christine running a tricorder over them. “Is everything all right, Nurse Chapel?” Jim asks, not moving from his spot just a few feet from Bones’s office door. 

“Just a little accident in Engineering, Captain.”

The two look at him, both seeming perfectly fine to Jim, but Jim thinks about either pressing them or calling Scotty. Before he can make up his mind, the door slides open and Bones snaps, “Let Nurse Chapel do her job.”

Jim blinks, looking back at him, relieved immediately. Considering Christine is one of the most competent people on the ship, he decides to go back to his previous priorities, and he walks straight past Bones into his office, not bothering to wait for an invitation. 

“When do you want to beam down?” Jim asks, walking over to a table filled with vials and test tubes. He leans in closer to look rather than picking anything up, a lesson he’s learned about a million times from Bones and his extremely profane lectures. 

He glances back at Bones, who frowns down at the PADD in his hands and then back up at Jim, making it very obvious that Jim’s interrupting him. “I might pass,” he says, sighing. He tosses the PADD onto his desk, leaning to sit on the edge of it. Leaving a wide gulf of space between them. 

Jim feels his eyebrows furrowing, not bothering to hide his confusion. He hopes this is just Bones’s typical faux bad attitude — he spent all three years at the Academy pretending he didn’t want to go to parties with Jim, but he went every time anyway. What’s Bones love more than drinking and being out of artificial gravity? So, confidence restored, Jim meanders closer to Bones, wondering if he’s ever been in Bones’s office this long without being offered a drink. There’s something to be said for Southern charm. 

“Pass? Just because some weird, witchy alien said some cryptic bullshit to you?” Jim asks with a laugh, keeping his tone much lighter than he actually feels about the situation. He takes it upon himself to walk over to Bones’s liquor cabinet. “Look, Spock can’t come and Uhura is staying back in solidarity. Not that either of them are the best drinking buddies, anyway.” 

“Well, at least you got Scotty,” Bones says, reaching past him for a bottle of whiskey, grabbing two glasses with the other hand. He sets everything down on an unoccupied corner of the table — far away from the testing equipment — then uncorks the bottle and pours out the amber liquid. He looks keyed up, far from the relaxation that usually comes over him when they break out the alcohol. 

“Come on, Bones, you have to come.”

Bones rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to drink backwoods moonshine sitting around a campfire, I’d go back to Georgia.” 

Jim lets out a laugh, and even Bones can’t suppress a smile. For just a second, he looks at Jim that certain way — like he wants Jim’s lips on his so bad that it might be essential to his survival. It’s got Jim thinking the same thing, mind going fuzzy, looking down at Bones’s lips and wondering how it’s possible that they’ve never kissed, not even drunk and at the Academy. They’re already so close it feels like they’re one person sometimes, and Jim can’t imagine being closer. How had Jim been stupid enough to not want Bones — not like this, not like a goddamn fever dream — until he noticed Bones wanting him? Jim prides himself on being active and decisive and intelligent, but here is he, the last one to figure it out. 

And the one keeping them on the edge of a knife.

He feels himself leaning in, reaching for Bones’s upper arm, but then Bones shoves his hand between them. Jim looks down, blinking stupidly, seeing the glass of whiskey Bones is offering. Jim takes it, already frustrated and annoyed.

Bones takes a long drink. “Geoff’s on beta shift,” Bones says, voice just a tiny bit shaky. “I’ll just take the second half so he can go instead. He doesn’t get out much.”

“Do you?” Jim asks. 

Bones rolls his eyes. “You’re the one constantly forcing me on landing parties, aren’t you?” 

Jim snorts, unable to argue with that. “Then just come down with me for a little while — an hour, even.” Jim imagines it, just for second — the two of them sitting by themselves next to a fire, like something out of a dumb summer camp fantasy he’s never had before. A hot crackling fire, Bones’s thigh warm against his, liquor so disgusting it makes them laugh, Bones’s skin looking like gold in the firelight, the light making his eyes a kaleidoscope of hazel.  

Through a haze of domestic bliss, Jim watches the smile dissipate from Bones’s face, and then there’s a single flash of panic that crosses over his expression. Jim blinks, brain coming back to him. This is the real Bones, standing in the harsh light of his office — and admittedly he looks every bit as appealing. But there’s the small fact that Jim suddenly realizes Bones is lying to him. Bones, the worst person at lying on the whole ship, possibly the whole world, really had Jim believing that he might have some sort of reasonable excuse for not going down. 

Maybe he’s been lying a lot more these days. 

Bones drains his glass and sets it down hard on the table. He starts walking to his desk, leaving Jim stranded and confused. 

“Come on, Bones,” he says, forcing a laugh — one final attempt for everything to stay normal. 

“I can’t, Jim.”

A nagging, insistent voice in Jim’s head immediately tells him that this really is the start of Bones avoiding him. Bones can’t stand to be around him anymore. Sure, their five-year mission is barely six months old, but in two weeks he’ll probably put in a transfer request to a Starfleet hospital planetside, just like he always said he wanted to when they were at the Academy. He’ll leave Jim and the stars behind and never look back. 

Jim will be stuck here forever, the whole galaxy to play in, just missing him. 

“Please?” Jim asks in a soft voice, stepping closer to him, not even sure what he means. 

“Don’t,” Bones snaps, glaring at him. Jim can practically hear the rest: Don’t play me like you play everyone else. 

And it stings.

Bones stands up and walks back to his desk. Jim reaches out a hand for him, but he doesn’t grab him — even though he knows he’d feel better immediately, just touching his skin. Feeling the warm, comforting presence of him. But instead he just watches as Bones sits down, taking up his PADD again, and Jim knows he’s being dismissed like a troublesome child. 

We saved the world together, Jim thinks about saying. We saved the whole world, both Earth and now this one, and we can’t even—

Jim lets out a sigh. “I want you there, Bones.” 

“Yeah, well,” Bones says, not even looking up at him. 

Jim walks back through the door, the sound of it sliding closed behind him bone-chillingly ominous, and he has a sudden urge to scream. 

Much like most things these days, the beginning of the party is significantly less fun than Jim expected. Sure, he at least has Scotty with him, but after a half-hour of polite small talk with Odona, he finds himself unable to even muster the energy to return her flirting. Scotty does most of the talking, and Jim can barely stop himself from glaring at Enna — skulking along beside them — deciding to blame her for Bones not wanting to come down. 

It’s a nice break from blaming himself. 

He can hear his crew laughing and chattering in the background, several bonfires already roaring just outside of the town. The nightly chill is just starting to set in. Normally some of that good mood would rub off on Jim, but, judging from the occasional elbow from Scotty directly into his ribs, he’s not doing a great job of even hiding a scowl. 

Scotty, probably tired of babysitting, wanders off a small way with Odona, leaving Jim alone with Enna. He vacillates a moment between following after Scotty or going over to his crew, but instead he finds himself saying, “Why did you tell my doctor that he’d seen the world end?” 

Great, he thinks to himself. You couldn’t even ask her about the weather first? Surely he’s due for a Starfleet-official lecture about diplomacy soon. (Step 1: Don’t snap at the lone descendant of an alien race just because she may have annoyed your CMO. Step 2: Figure out your fucking personal life.)

Enna stares at him, amber eyes almost unbearable — he wonders if she really can see through him. “Why does it offend you?” she asks in her dreamlike tone. 

“Well, you see, it’s just not true.” He tries to steady his voice, keeping to himself all of his anger about Bones blowing him off earlier. 

“There are many ways for the world to end.” 

“But it hasn’t.” 

“I can see into his soul, Captain.” 

“No, I can,” Jim snaps, more furious than ever. Jim doesn’t give a fuck what sort of undisclosed alien powers Enna has — nothing could make her know more about Bones than he does. 

She nods, the smallest hint of a condescending smile on her face. “When something is foretold, it isn’t always as straightforward as it seems,” she says in that same otherworldly voice, and then she turns and wanders off into the desert. 

He glares after her, feeling the urge to scream for the second time that evening. 

Scotty shows up behind him, holding out of a cup of clear liquid in one hand. Jim takes it reluctantly, and then Scotty clasps him on the shoulder. “You did your duty, Captain. Now you’re free to celebrate the world’s end with the rest of us.”

“The world isn’t ending tonight,” Jim says, both to Scotty and the long-gone Enna, and then he takes a drink. He freezes, nearly spitting it out immediately. He forces himself to swallow, and he can feel it burning a path all the way down to his stomach. “Fuck.”

Scotty laughs, warm and comforting. “Maybe the world is gonna end, lad,” he jokes, taking a drink from his own cup, a shudder running through him.  

Jim envies him for a minute. What problems does Scotty have, anyway — with his engineering decks to hide in, his all-important dilithium crystals, all the physical problems he can reach and touch and fix. If something’s working, he’s succeeded. If something’s broken, he can fix it.

“I’m fucking up, Scotty,” he says. He takes the rest of his drink like a shot — and promptly feels like it may burn a literal hole through his stomach. 

He lets Scotty not-so-gently push him towards the nearest unoccupied bonfire. Jim sits down on the hard ground, sprawling out as best he can, barely glancing as Scotty immediately wanders off again. Jim looks up at the stars, knowing Bones is still up there… and pissed off at him. 

Years ago, Bones told him once — wearing his cadet red pants and just a black undershirt, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand, drunk eyes bleary — that he’d only loved one person in his whole life, and he swore he’d never do it again. He gestured with his whiskey glass, a drop of that Kentucky bourbon hitting Jim on the chin, and it smelled like Bones. “Never,” Bones said, and it didn’t seem sad, at the time. Jim thought he was the same, too, made for sex and not love. “Never, Jim, never again.”

At least Jim’s not the only fuck-up around.

It’s been the better part of two years, but Bones has never once said anything about his feelings out loud, and Jim’s too much of a coward to ask him. After all, he knows better than anyone else that he’s not worth it. It sounds maudlin to even think it, but Jim knows it objectively. No one’s ever had any sort of love for him, not even his own family — and everyone seems to have that kind. And that’s got nothing on what he sees in Bones’s eyes, that whole till-death-do-us-part, soulmates, when-we-retire-from-Starfleet-let’s-buy-a-house-in-the-country-and-sip-sweet-tea-on-the-porch kind of love. 

And now Bones might want to run away from him. 

Jim groans. 

“Captain,” Scotty says, leaning over him with another drink. 

“What if the world does end tonight?” Jim asks, propping himself on one elbow so he can reach out to take the cup from him. He regrets the decision immediately, feeling a nauseated lurch in his stomach, just looking at the new cup of liquor. 

“Then it ends,” Scotty says, very helpfully, and he sits down next to him. Maybe he doesn’t have the best bedside manner, but Scotty’s a good friend — sticking by him even though Jim’s sure he’d rather be around literally anyone else at the moment. Someone who’s not sucking the energy from the entire planet. Then he gives Jim a look from the corner of his eye. “But maybe there’s somewhere else you’d rather be, if it be the end of the world an’ all.”

“You’re taking after that witch,” Jim mutters. 

“Not a bad question,” Scotty says, leaning back, taking another drink without even wincing. “Just philosophically, mind.”

“Philosophically,” Jim scoffs — it feels the furthest thing from philosophical.

“The poor doctor’s got it bad for you.” Jim looks up with a sudden frown, and Scotty sits there open-mouthed for a second. Seeming to gather up his courage, Scotty plows on, “I really don’t see what the problem is, lad. I don’t think you’d be this torn up unless—”

Jim groans, effectively interrupting him, dropping his chin against his chest. “But I’m not sure — I can’t just—” He breaks off, not even daring to look at Scotty. This is the closest he’s ever come to saying this out loud, and it’s making his heart pound. “I mean, what if I’m wrong?”

“Wrong? Don’t you either feel it or you don’t?”

“Yeah, well, I would’ve thought death was permanent, too, and yet here I am — I’ve literally been to hell and back.” Jim forces down another small gulp, and then he looks back at Scotty. “You ever been in love, Scotty?”

Scotty shrugs. “Don’t s’pose so.”

“Me, either. Well, until — well — fuck.” He breaks off, wishing he could beat his head against something. He can hear that goddamn ‘philosophical’ question spinning around and around his brain — if it’s the end of the world, who do you want to be with, Jim? Like he even needs any more motivation to have Bones’s perfect fucking face haunting his mind every second of the day. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, then snaps, “Aren’t we too old for this shit?”

“You’re only seven-and-twenty. There’s a lot more shit yet to come.”

Jim sits up straight and moves until his back hits a rock — quite a fancy party — and pours the substance they’re calling alcohol onto the ground next to him, watching the parched earth absorb it instantly. He has a sudden urge to burrow into the ground and die, too. 

“I get it, laddie. You dinna like feeling scared or unprepared, and you’ve never had to be afraid of anything with McCoy before.” 

Jim looks over at him, frowning. “I’m not scared,” he says, just because he feels like he has to. 

Scotty looks at him over his cup, eyes comically wide and eyebrows raised. “Aye,” he says dryly. “‘Course not.”

Jim stands up, brushing dust off his pants. He frowns down at Scotty, who’s badly suppressing a smile. “Don’t drink too much of that shit,” he snaps, back in Captain mode, and he grabs his comm and flips it open. “Kirk to Enterprise. Beam me aboard.”

Jim runs into medbay. Even though alpha shift is long over, he expects Bones to be in there berating someone for being too drunk or sitting in his office slumped over a PADD writing reports. Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of M’Benga, who barely glances up from his PADD as he says, “He’s not here, Captain.”

“Then where is he?” Jim snaps, forgetting his usual formality for a second. M’Benga looks up this time, fixing him with an ominously sympathetic look. “He said he was covering for you, Dr. M’Benga,” Jim adds, more politely this time, even as his mind runs through all the worst case scenarios: He’s over you, he left, someone you don’t know in Engineering has been hitting on him and he finally realized you were too stupid and decided to go get laid—

“That’s news to me, sir. I have no idea where he is.”

Jim can’t so much as say thanks — not when he can barely unclench his jaw. So he just whirls around and darts out of medbay, with a bad feeling that M’Benga has more than enough information to fill in the gaps. 

Jim checks Bones’s room and then — with unwarranted optimism — his own. He tries his comm, unsurprised when Bones doesn’t answer — What if I were dying, Bones? he asks internally. Then he wanders through the officers’ lounge and the mess hall without any real hope, debating on whether or not it’s an invasion of privacy to ask the computer for his location. 

He pauses in a deserted corridor, feeling like his brain is splitting in half trying to come up with every possibility for where Bones could be — the observation deck, the rec room, the bar, the gym, bitching to Christine in her room. For the first time in his life, he curses how big this starship is. He lets out a sigh, his own worry rapidly outweighing any moral quandary he might have. “Computer, location of Dr. McCoy?”

“Engineering Bay, upper decks.”

Jim frowns. That’s the last place he would’ve thought to look, but he runs there anyway. He bursts into Engineering so dramatically that he’s forced to stop and emphatically assure the nearest redshirt that he’s not here with any sort of problem. Once he successfully gets him to wander towards the engines, Jim glances up into the network of ladders and decks and catwalks above him. “Bones?” he calls, hoping that he doesn’t sound pathetic enough for any of the engineers to notice. 

Way up, at least a dozen floors above, he can just barely see Bones’s head peek out. He’s much too far away for Jim to see his expression, but he imagines radiating heat from a scowl. 

“Wait there!” Jim calls and then starts bolting up the nearest stairs. 

He climbs and climbs, out of breath by the time he sees Bones. He’s standing on one of the catwalks, back against the railing. Jim’s never seen him up here — he looks different, surrounded by industrial silver and dim lights instead of the blinding white sickbay. He looks sulky and tired, dark hair mussed. 

“You ask the computer for my location?” Bones asks dully, barely mustering a raised eyebrow.

“Tried to comm you first.” Jim walks down, leaning against the railing across from him. 

Bones just shrugs, looking unrepentant. 

“I could’ve been dying.”

“Are you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jim fires back. He likes to hide up here when he feels like he’s going to burst out of his own head, but he’s never known Bones to do the same. “Bones, why are you here?”

He shrugs, faint color coming into his face. “Am I not allowed up here or somethin’? Do you need to change my clearance?”

Jim lets out a snort. “Come on, Bones.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be at your party?”

“I realized something,” Jim says, taking a step closer to him. There’s barely room for one person on this catwalk, let alone both of them. It feels like they’re hovering above the whole ship, just the two of them suspended here. Bones looks at him, hazel eyes wide, mouth open in an unspoken question. Jim grabs his upper arms, feeling Bones’s whole body instinctively lean towards him — but Bones doesn’t do more than that, still waiting for Jim to make the first move. Jim’s hands trail up to his neck and then his jaw, rubbing along his faint stubble, feeling him shudder. Jim wonders how he spent the last year and a half undecided — all it took was the world ending, and now he thinks he could die just from not kissing Bones. 

So he does. 

Jim presses their lips together, feeling unusually tentative. Bones is anything but tentative, though — his arms go around Jim’s neck immediately, yanking him closer until their bodies press together. Jim feels a noise come out of Bones, and then they’re kissing — really kissing. Deep and hot and Jim wishes he’d done this years ago. How many thousands of times were they holed up together in Bones’s dorm room, talking and laughing and drinking? They could’ve had all that and this too, the two luckiest bastards in the world. 

Bones smells like cologne and disinfectant, and he tastes like bourbon. Jim’s hands go to his back and hips and anywhere he can touch, finally settling on his fingers crawling up just under the hem of Bones’s shirt — bare skin under his fingertips. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone quite this bad before, and it’s a heady feeling, with Bones warm and shivering and pulling Jim against him and making noises in his throat. If only they were in bed right this second, with Jim on top of him and making him come even more undone.

Jim pulls back, grabbing his face again. Bones opens his eyes, looking dazed, and Jim can’t help but grin. “Bones,” he says softly, kissing his lips again and then his jaw. His whispers his name and tries to memorize the taste of his skin, getting lost in his own head and forgetting about the small fact that they’re about two hundred feet up in the middle of fucking nowhere in the ship. 

“Jim,” Bones says, the word coming out like a moan. Jim bites at his skin a little harder, wondering if he can pull a real moan out of him. Just one for now, and then he’ll spend the rest of his life getting more. “What—” he breaks off, gasping. “What the hell happened?”

Jim reluctantly stops kissing him. He grins, remembering earlier that day when he’d thought kissing Bones would feel like planets aligning — and he was right. “If the world ends tonight, I wanna spend it with you.”

Bones’s hazy, euphoric expression dissolves into annoyance in record time. He tries to take a step away, but he rams his back into the railing. He moves to the right instead, finally detangling them. Jim reaches out for him, and Bones moves his arm away, glare now firmly in place. “The world’s not ending tonight,” he snaps. 

“That’s not—”

“Dammit Jim, I swear, if you’re pulling this shit because you want to get laid on the night the world’s not ending—”

“Come on, Bones.”

Bones takes another step away from him, his face going blank. Jim’s hardly ever seen him look like that, and it makes him lurch forward. Bones turns and starts bolting down the stairs at the other end of the catwalk, and Jim only vacillates a second before following after him. The stairs feel too rickety with two people on them, but nothing could make Jim stop now. “Bones!” Jim says, more than once, easily able to catch up to him. But Bones just keeps going, willfully ignoring him. 

“Bones,” Jim says loudly over the creaking metal. “You can’t just run away from this. It’s not — it’s not what you think—”

“And what do I think?” Bones snaps, finally stopping, still only about halfway down to Engineering Bay. 

“You want this as much as I do,” Jim says, sounding pathetically unsure all of a sudden. 

“Jim, I’m only going to say this once,” Bones says, voice quieter now that they’re closer to the ground. 

“Then say it.” Jim stands right in front of him, wishing they were both better than this — Jim never knowing what to say when it really counts, Bones’s instinct to run and never look back, Jim always waiting to be left behind, Bones still traumatized from seeing forever turn into three miserable years. Both of them the kind of broken that made sharp, jagged wounds. 

“I don’t love you because the world’s ending, okay?” Bones says, eyes wide, face flushed. “I loved you yesterday and I love you now — God help me — and I’ll love you tomorrow and every other boring, mundane day after that. And you don’t get to just pick me up and then drop me when you feel like it. You’re going to break my—”

He doesn’t finish, but Jim can hear it: You’re going to break my fucking heart.

“You’ve got this all wrong,” Jim says feebly, hating his tone but not knowing what to say. He can’t say I love you, too. Not when he’s not sure — not one-hundred-percent sure, not enough to say it out loud and set it in stone. It would feel like bargaining, anyway, and he’s got this idea that it’s supposed to be the sort of thing that’s disgustingly romantic. Whispering it in Bones’s ear, hands on Bones’s face, feeling his skin heat up under his palms. 

That sort of thing. Not that he’s given it much thought. 

Well, not consciously, anyway.

And then Bones’s comm beeps. 

Bones takes a step back, relief flooding his face. Jim scowls, wondering if Bones has ever in his life been so happy to have someone comm him — usually the sound is greeted with an expletive. “McCoy,” he says, with his usual brusque tone, a faint frown still on his face as he pointedly looks over Jim’s shoulder. 

“Dr. McCoy, can you please report to the captain’s ready room?” Spock asks. 

Bones raises an eyebrow but still doesn’t meet Jim’s eyes. Confusion is all over his face, and Jim’s sure he looks the same. “What for?” Bones snaps. 

“The Captain and I are attempting to arrive at a decision.”

“What do I care what Captain—” Bones breaks off, clearly trying to remember the name of the beta shift captain, but before Jim can hiss the answer to him, he continues, “What decision is she making, anyway, other than how fast to orbit?” 

“I, of course, am referring to Captain Kirk.”

Jim’s halfway to the stairs already, and he whips around at that. Bones finally meets Jim’s eyes again, and they stare at each other for a long, silent moment. “Be right there,” Bones says, and then snaps his comm shut. 

Jim hurdles himself down the stairs, jumping the last flight back onto solid ground. He can hear Bones close behind him, and he waits in the turbolift for him. “Bridge,” he says, as soon as the doors close behind Bones. 

Bones is breathing hard, and he looks sideways at Jim, eyes tracing Jim’s face like he’s searching for answers. “It’s always something,” he finally says, his usual annoyed, everyday tone, like nothing between them even happened. “I always tell you those goddamn transporters are dangerous.”

“I didn’t have a transporter accident.” He pauses. “Not this time. And that’s never happened to me, anyway.”

“Yet,” Bones mutters, looking at the ceiling. 

That’s when Jim notices all the space Bones put in between them — the polar opposite of the last time they were in the turbolift together. “Bones, I—” Jim breaks off before he can finish: I didn’t fuck this up irreparably, did I?

He just reaches all the way over, gripping Bones’s blue sleeve, wishing he could just grab his hand. He’s every bit as worried about this thing with Bones as he is about what’s waiting for him on the bridge. It’s like pieces of himself are breaking off, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to love someone just as much — or even more — than the Enterprise. 

“We’ve got time, kid,” Bones says. He doesn’t look over at him again, but his tone is much more soft and reassuring than Jim probably deserves. 

Then the door opens. Every eye on the bridge immediately turns to them.

Jim walks out of the turbolift and across the bridge, trying to maintain decorum. Bones is close behind him, scowling as usual. Jim nods politely to the beta shift captain — Captain Kwan, which Bones should know — and all the other crewmembers. It doesn’t help the feeling in his stomach when they all look just at him suspiciously. 

The door to the ready room opens, and there — sitting behind his desk — is himself. Another Jim Kirk. They look at each other, and it feels like worlds collapsing. As unsettling as it had been to hear about it over Bones’s comm, it’s even eerier to be here witnessing it himself. 

Then Jim notices Spock, standing off to the side, one hand loosely resting on his phaser. He examines Jim carefully, one eyebrow twitching up — his only acknowledgement that this might be an unusual situation. Spock just looks between them slowly, which is at least enough to assure Jim that they aren’t in immediate danger. 

“I was under the impression Captain Kirk was on shore leave, and now there are two of him on the Enterprise,” Spock says, and the door closes behind them. “Curious.”

The other Kirk stands up, slamming his hands on the desk. “Spock, that isn’t me!” he exclaims.  

Jim, startled at the display, looks over at Bones, but — strangely — Bones is looking between the two of them rapidly. “Spock, what the hell’s happening?” Bones asks. 

Jim frowns. “Spock,” he snaps, and then immediately stops, knowing he was about to repeat the imposter’s words. Suddenly this whole thing feels ridiculous, even though they just got here. Sure, the other Kirk looks exactly like him, even down to the same green shirt, but it’s not him. And aren’t these the two people who know him best? 

Especially Bones. 

“Bones,” the other Kirk says, striding forward. Jim is too startled to move, just watching the other version of him gently put a hand on Bones’s face, seeing Bones shiver — even pissed off and confused, Jim can’t help the flash of jealousy that he isn’t the one to feel it. “Spock thinks the alien can see your thoughts, your innermost desires,” he says to Bones, those other bright blue eyes boring into hazel ones. “And that’s what he did to you tonight, isn’t it? Wasn’t he unlike he’s ever been before? Why today, of all days?”

“Fuck,” Jim says, immediately loud and frustrated. Without even thinking about it, he steps forward, grabs the arm of the other version of him, and yanks as hard as he can. He sees himself stumble back a few steps. Jim glances at Bones to make sure he’s okay, immediately struck hard by Bones’s horrified, wide-eyed look.

“Spock—” the other version of him says. 

“Come on, Spock,” Jim cuts in — sure, this might be a dumb farce, but it’s irritating the hell out of him. Spock must know something is wrong, otherwise they wouldn’t be here in the first place. Not to mention Bones, of all people, hesitating even for a second. 

Especially after what just happened in Engineering. 

Spock walks up behind the imposter, hand going to his shoulder. Jim expects to see himself drop, but then Spock looks past him to Bones. “You disagree, Dr. McCoy?”

Bones takes a step forward, shoulder-to-shoulder with Jim. They look at each other again, Bones’s expression blank. “This is the real Jim,” he says, not looking away. “I’m sure you already know that, though, don’t you, Spock?”

“Perhaps you should show us your true form now,” Spock suggests politely to the imposter. “Otherwise you will be transported unconscious to the brig.”

Jim sees a furious scowl come over his own face, and then suddenly his entire body is shifting — becoming shorter, more slender, skin paling, hair growing, eyes getting wider and farther apart and changing color. Her clothes change, too, and suddenly she looks exactly as she did on planet. 

“Enna,” Jim says, and she looks at him sourly. 

“I was in my quarters when Captain Kwan reported that someone who was ostensibly Captain Kirk ordered a collision course into Levinius III,” Spock says, letting go of her but not taking a step away. 

“A collision course?”

“An unusual request,” Spock agrees, and Bones snorts. “I gathered it may not be you. So I informed her that I needed another officer’s approval to authorize the course. Knowing Mr. Scott is still planetside, it was natural to call Dr. McCoy.” 

“How flattering,” Bones says.

Jim steps over to the doors. “Security,” he says, letting himself breathe for a few seconds as the two redshirts come in. “Just stay here, phasers on the woman.” They nod, and Jim goes to his desk, leaning against it. “How did she even get a comm?” he asks, looking at Spock again. 

“I do not doubt that there is an inebriated ensign on planet, panicking.”

“Or they haven’t even noticed,” Bones says dryly, taking a step towards the liquor cabinet, but he seems to think better of it immediately. 

“And she’s — some sort of telepath?” Jim asks. 

“Presumably,” Spock says. “Her race has never been studied, as all but one were deceased long before first contact.” 

Enna throws Spock a glare, and then she walks over to Jim, who waves his hand at security to allow it. It’s not nearly as frustrating, now that he’s back to being the only Jim in the room. “The world was supposed to end today,” Enna says, her voice soft and cool, leaning into him, her amber eyes almost hypnotic. “I was just a child when they all died — and I’ve lived these two centuries, waiting. And they knew, didn’t they? They were right. The world would’ve gone up in smoke and flames if you humans hadn’t meddled. Just as the gods intended.”

“We don’t just let planets get destroyed—” Jim starts.

“I should’ve lived and died on that planet alone,” she nearly shrieks, leaning even closer to him, and he half-expects her to physically attack him.“Was that not my right? My destiny? Instead—”

“Spock,” Jim interrupts.

And Spock touches her shoulder again, and then she’s on the ground. 

Security immediately has her gently by either arm. “Brig,” Jim says shortly. “We’ll drop her off at Starbase 23 when we get there in four days.” 

In just a second, security has her out of his ready room. Jim has just one moment of eye contact with Kwan before the doors close again. Jim knows they’re going to be talking about this on beta shift for weeks. 

Bones takes it upon himself to finally get out the liquor. He grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses — Spock never wants any. As he sets them down onto the desk, Jim throws himself onto his chair behind it. Bones leans against the desk with a small, frustrated groan.  

“Christ,” Jim says, taking the bottle only to fumble with opening it. 

Bones straightens up, reaches over, and grabs it from him. Those goddamn surgeon’s hands. In just a second, Bones is pouring out two glasses. “Nothin’ for you, Spock?” he asks, sitting down on the chair across from Jim. 

“No, thank you, Dr. McCoy.”

“More for us,” Bones mutters, sliding one of the glasses towards Jim, looking him over clinically. His hands twitch, and Jim knows he’d have his tricoder out if it were on him.

“She tried to crash us into the planet?” Jim asks, looking towards Spock, who’s standing between the desk and the door. Jim waves him closer to them. “Would that have even worked?”

“In theory, Captain,” Spock says, taking just a single step closer, “though I assure you that she would not have gotten that far.”

“I know that, but just — fuck.” He takes a long drink of whiskey, the flavor immediately making him forget that disgusting alcohol on planet. “That’s — that’s a little fucking extreme. Hell, half the crew is down there.” He blinks, realizing something, and then says, “Oh, shit, we need to get everyone up from shore leave now. I know it’s not the colony’s fault, but—”

Spock gives a nod. “I can attend to that.” He looks between Jim and Bones, and Jim realizes he wants an excuse to leave. 

“Scotty’s down there?” Bones asks Jim. 

“Yeah. Drinking paint thinner.”

Bones’s lip twitches, and that has Jim smiling, if only for a second. He turns back to Spock and adds, “In the morning, we should beam down to the planet and explain the situation.” 

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Jim says, looking at him gratefully. “For everything.” There’s no better first officer than Spock, that’s certain. He’s not sure who else could’ve averted a crisis so swiftly. All while Jim can’t even handle a tiny personal problem. 

Captain’s log: Today I failed at literally every aspect of my life.

“You are welcome, Jim.”

Then Spock leaves. When the door closes again, the silence feels deafening. 

“So you thought that I might be an alien,” Jim says, purposely keeping his tone conversational. He immediately takes a long drink, welcoming the burn in his throat as he swallows.

“Jim — that’s not—”

“Then what was it?” he snaps, still too shaken from seeing himself that he can’t even bother to hide his anger. He’s barely even told Bones how he feels, and it’s already turning into a nightmare. Now he has to feel betrayed on top of everything else. “You know me better than anyone in this entire fucking galaxy.”

“What d’you want?” Bones says back in the same tone, color coming into his face. “A damn apology for the fact that — for one fucking second — it seemed more plausible that you were an alien than that you were really falling for me?”

“Bones!” Jim says, anger dissipating immediately. He watches Bones’s face turn bright red as he looks away. Jim stands up and walks around his desk, sitting on top of it. His legs dangle just to the side of Bones — who’s looking steadfastly at the whiskey bottle on the desk, turning it around and around with one hand.  “You can’t mean that,” Jim says softly, wanting to grab Bones’s chin — to feel his skin, to see his blush, to try to convey the things he can’t say when their eyes meet. 

“Don’t accuse me of not trusting you,” Bones says, shooting a quick glare up at him. “But it’s a hell of a lot easier to trust you with this ship than my goddamn heart. You’ve got no idea how I feel about you.”

Jim reaches out to take his hand, relieved that Bones lets him. He uses both of his hands to play with Bones’s fingers, feeling his warm, dry skin. “Then tell me,” he says quietly. “Come on, Bones, I want to know everything about you again.” 

Bones leans against his legs, hiding his face against Jim’s thigh. Jim can feel himself immediately flushing, but he just uses one hand to stroke Bones’s hair softly. “You dying was the worst goddamn thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice clear but quiet. “We’d been seeing people die for two days, but it was different. Seeing you in that goddamn body bag — Jim, I still have nightmares about it. Real nightmares — the wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-screaming kind. It really did feel like the world ended. And then, when your heartbeat came back — when I heard it on the monitor, it felt bigger than the stars. And I knew. Maybe I’d loved you for years, but that was when I knew. That was all it took. Sounds kind of anticlimactic, I guess. Didn’t feel that way, though.”

Jim just sits there for a minute, Bones warm and strong and real against him. So many people in Jim’s life are just temporary, and he doesn’t mind being temporary for other people, too. He’s an explorer, just getting glimpses of new worlds and new people. But Bones has never left his side since they first met, all those thousands of light-years away. It’s hard not to believe in fate, and it’s even harder not to believe that he and Bones have always been destined for each other. 

“You could’ve told me,” Jim says quietly. 

“Guess I thought agreeing to this godforsaken five-year mission was confession enough.” He straightens up to glare at Jim, and Jim’s hand falls away from him. “Plus, you knew, didn’t you? I never fooled you for a minute.”

“But it would’ve been different — hearing it.”

“Well, you heard it today. Is it different?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, it’s different — I like hearing it. Bones, I—”

“Jim,” Bones interrupts, standing up. “Don’t say anything right now. Maybe I sound like a dumb kid or something, but I just think — I think it’d be better for us both if we took some time and thought about all this.”

“Time,” Jim repeats hollowly, jumping off the desk. He can’t think of anything he wants less than time. In fact, they should go back in time and do everything all over again, and maybe he won’t be such an idiot this time around. 

“Come on — five minutes ago you were looking at me like I tried to stab you. Do you think this is really the right time?”

“That’s not—” Jim starts, breaking off immediately, knowing as painfully as hell that Bones is right. 

“A week — that’s all.”

“What’s there to think about?” Jim asks, crossing his arms over his chest, too belligerent to take the high road. He desperately wants to touch Bones — maybe Bones would understand if their skin connected. But he knows Bones put this careful space between them for a reason. “What’s time gonna do?”

Bones frowns. “Jim, I’m not built for casual — least of all with you. We can’t—”

“What makes you think I want casual?”

“Well, you’re—” he breaks off, frowning. 

Jim rolls his eyes at the implication, just on the edge of offended. “Well, I don’t. Not with you. I want the least casual thing in the world, actually.”

“I just — I just don’t want this to end up like it did last time. I couldn’t fucking survive it, Jim.”

“It won’t end up like that,” Jim says, reaching out to trail his fingers over Bones’s face, unable to stop himself any longer. He remembers seeing Enna do the same thing — and it feels like the world is righting itself, having Bones give the wide-eyed look to him, feeling Bones shivering under his hands. “We know each other, don’t we? Better than any other two people in the world. We aren’t dumb twenty-year-olds jumping into marriage too quick.”

“I know, but—”

“Come on, Bones,” Jim interrupts, trying not to get jealous of Jocelyn. He’s heard plenty of stories about her over the years, enough to know he’s nothing like her — enough to know that Bones is different now, too. “You’ve gotta have faith in me, too, right? Maybe I’ve never been in a relationship, but isn’t that what the whole thing is? You’ve gotta trust that the other person isn’t going to change their mind.”

Bones nods, reaching up to grab Jim’s hand. He kisses his palm and then drops it — Jim feeling his stubble against his fingertips for just one second. “Let’s just wait one week. We both have things to think about.”

Jim sighs but nods, knowing it’s probably smart. Probably safer. But he’s never been one to take the safe route, and it fucking hurts him somehow — he finally got a glimpse of what he’s always wanted, and now he’s forced wait because of his own stupidity. The universe has finally decided to start punishing him.

He retreats farther into the room, hovering near his desk. “I’m not gonna change my mind,” he says stubbornly, forcing himself to be lighter again. God knows he’s had the practice. “You’ll see, Bones. I haven’t left you alone since we met, and I’m gonna be even worse. In a week, you are gonna have yourself a full-fledged boyfriend—”

“Lord help me—”

“There will be Starfleet forms to fill out,” he adds. “There will be gossip.” 

Bones laughs, and the sound makes Jim smile again. Jim leans against the desk, watching carefully as Bones approaches him. He grabs Jim’s chin softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jim lets him, not trying for anything else, other than putting his hand on Bones’s waist. When Bones pulls back, he’s flushed and looks like he might be rethinking everything he just said. For a second, Jim thinks he might go in for another kiss, and that has Jim leaning slightly forward, tilting his head just right, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. Bones exhales, face softening, and then he says, “You know, Jim, if the world really were ending tonight… I’d want to spend it with you, too.”

“Technically it did almost end,” Jim says, but he leans back instead of reaching for more. “Twice.”

“Do your report for today,” Bones says, unable to stop himself from smiling. He pulls away from Jim and starts walking towards the door. “After that, I recommend getting some sleep. If you were anyone else, I’d tell you to take tomorrow off, but—” 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

[Stardate 2260.322]

Jim pauses outside of medbay, staring down at his PADD. Spock and Scotty are there, too, looking at him expectantly. Jim badly suppresses a yawn before he focuses on the checklist on his PADD. He asks, “We confirmed prisoner transport and left record of our logs?”

“Aye, Captain,” Scotty says. 

“Confirmed rendezvous with U.S.S. Bradbury at Lya III in twenty-four standard days?”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock says.

“Received copy of peace treaty between Elas and Troyius that’s currently in contention?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Restocked all supplies?”

“Aye, Sir,” Scotty says.

Jim looks up, frowning. They both look as tired as he feels. Going to a starbase always seems like something that should be exhilarating, but in actuality it’s always exhausting. It’s a deadly combination of thousands of checklists and schmoozing Starfleet, exacerbated by the knowledge that if anything is forgotten, it’s going to be a long time until the mistake can be corrected. 

“It’s beta shift, isn’t it?” Jim says, letting himself yawn this time. He wonders if they’re still gossiping about the incident with the alien four days ago — they certainly hadn’t shut up about it last time he was around. 

“Captain Kwan is on shift,” Spock says. 

“She should continue orbit for now. We’ll depart promptly at 0800 hours.”

“I will relay the message, Jim,” Spock says, “and ensure there is nothing on the bridge that needs your attention.”

Jim nods and looks back down at his PADD. “I guess the last thing is that I need to confirm that Dr. McCoy has properly stored the vaccines for—”

“I did,” Bones says, appearing next to him and leaning against the open doorway to medbay. “Consider it confirmed.”

Jim looks up, blinking, and glances between Spock, Scotty, and Bones. “I guess we’re dismissed then,” he says, shrugging, handing his PADD to Spock. It’s always a little anticlimactic when it ends. 

He calls his goodbyes behind him as he follows Bones into his office. He expects Bones to get them something to drink, but instead he pulls out his tricorder and immediately starts running it over Jim. Jim scoffs, swatting it away. 

“Bones,” he says, and lurches forward to throw his arms around him. He leans down to bury his face in his shoulder. He’s so warm and comforting and Bones. Jim feels his entire body relax for the first time that day. “My biggest affliction is that I almost died of boredom down there. I’m fine.” 

“Famous last words,” Bones grumbles, but he puts his arms around Jim, too.

Some days the thought crosses Jim’s mind — what happens when there’s nothing new to see in the galaxy? What happens when everything just starts to feel like an echo of old experiences? What happens when he gets bored with the only thing that he’s good at? This is the only life he’s ever had, unlike Bones. He’s not sure there’s anything else for him. 

He and Bones are old; they’re grown men who have known each other a long time, and for the only time that’s mattered — at least to Jim, anyway. But here it is, something as simple as Bones’s arms around him, and suddenly this feels new. And that’s when Jim’s certain — he loves Bones, and he always will. It’s not the sort of thing that’ll ever feel old and staid. Bones has been Jim’s one constant since they first met, and Jim can trust that not to change. 

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Bones asks quietly, right in Jim’s ear. 

“Just a long day,” he says, pulling back. He’s flushed, pleased with the nickname and Bones sounding like that, head spinning a little. “Bureaucracy and shit. Can’t wait until we’re really out in deep space.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bones says sarcastically. “No one to hear us scream.”

Jim lets out a laugh. “I’ll protect you.”

Bones just rolls his eyes, putting his tricorder away. 

Jim’s kept his word and hasn’t tried anything — a fucking fount of restraint — but they’ve both naturally gravitated together even more than before. Bones touches him more often, and differently, too — hand brushing through Jim’s hair instead of a shoulder squeeze, hand on his back instead of a pretend-medical hand under his arm. Jim suspects he’s not the only one spending these last four days hanging on by a thread. 

Jim leans forward again until Bones looks straight at him, wide-eyed. After all, Bones isn’t the only one who can be seductive. Jim pauses, just inches away, and adds softly, “Plus… I missed you down there.” 

Bones, red flooding his face, quickly looking down. He makes a delayed hmph sound in his throat, clearly trying his best to maintain his self-control. Jim wishes he knew what was going through his head, but before he can ask, Bones starts pushing Jim back towards the door. “Your shift ended four hours ago—”

“So did yours — M’Benga is right there—” 

“Fine,” he interrupts, moving to walk more conventionally beside him once they’re outside medbay. The hallway is quiet, just a few other people here and there. It feels strangely intimate like this, but Jim isn’t sure why. Bones has got his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. But his shoulder brushes against Jim’s with every step.

“Are you okay?” Jim asks softly. 

Bones looks at him, frowning, and then hits the button for the turbolift harder than necessary. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, it has,” Jim says, stretching his arms behind his back. “I guess saving the world will do that.” 

“That’s what I mean,” he snaps, sounding both furious and frustrated. “It’s been a long week… since then.” 

Jim freezes.

The doors of the turbolift open for them. Bones steps on, and then turns back to meet his eyes. His face is flushed slightly, that fucking shove-me-against-the-wall-of-the-turbolift-and-kiss-me look in his eyes back in full force. 

“A week,” Jim repeats, feeling rooted to his spot. He understands — he really hasn’t been the only one going crazy these last four days. He knows once he sets foot on that turbolift, everything is going to change. 

And all of a sudden, he feels shy. Uncertain. All those qualities he hates. Not unsure of Bones, but of himself. Sure, maybe his reputation for getting laid is grossly overstated — they don’t have shore leave that often in the first place — but he’s still never been in a real relationship before. Hell, he hadn’t even had a real, lifelong kind of friend until Bones. 

You know me, right? Jim wants to ask. You know me so well you’ve got my soul mapped out, don’t you? You know my good qualities and all my flaws, and you still want me. Right?

“Jim?” Bones asks, face falling. 

That alone is enough to have Jim lurching forward, setting just one foot into the turbolift. Then he pauses again, watching Bones’s expression go through about a hundred stages of uncertainty. Jim feels himself softening, melting, almost fucking dying. Fuck, he loves Bones. But he still finds himself asking, “You didn’t change your mind?” 

And Bones just laughs, reaching out and grabbing him by the front of his shirt. He yanks Jim inside, the doors shutting behind them. “I didn’t,” he says, hazel eyes warm. He keeps his hands on Jim’s green shirt. “Did you?”

“I didn’t, either,” he says, running a hand over Bones’s arm. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.” 

“And?”

“And I’m sure, Bones.” 

“Even if the world’s not ending this time?” Bones says, but his grip tightens. 

Jim grins. “Every boring, mundane day.”

“God knows you’ve never given me any of those.” But Bones trails his hands up Jim’s collar until his arms are around his neck. “Captain’s quarters,” Bones adds abruptly, and the turbolift finally starts to move. 

“On the first date?” Jim asks in mock-horror. But Jim’s hands go to his hips, and he presses him back a step. And another step. Bones’s back hits the wall of the turbolift, and Jim grins. Finally. 

Bones raises one eyebrow, badly suppressing a smile of his own. “You callin’ this a date? What am I getting myself into—”

Jim laughs, grabbing Bones’s face and pressing a kiss against his jaw. “I love you,” he says, pulling back just far enough so he can see his face again — still so close that Jim can see every shade of green and gold in Bones’s eyes, the flush on his cheeks, the startled grin breaking across his face. 

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. Jim loves to hear it, and loves the way Bones says it — gruff and irritated like everything else, like it’s already so interwoven into their lives that it’s barely worth mentioning. Then Bones tugs on his shirt again, and Jim focuses on his face. Bones snaps, “Kiss me, Jim, goddammit.”

And he does. 

Fuck, he could do this forever. He has Bones’s body pressed against himself and the wall, his lips warm and soft and desperate, Bones’s hands working under the collar of his shirt, gripping at his shoulders and upper back. He bites at Bones’s bottom lip, getting a groan out of him, and then his tongue presses into Bones’s mouth again. 

The turbolift announces their floor, and Jim curses the fact that he was too distracted to stop it before they got here. They barely have time to split apart before the doors open. Jim gives Bones a quick once-over — his lips are already red and his blue shirt is bunched on his hips where Jim’s hands pressed into him. Jim can’t imagine he looks any better, especially with the way he can feel the filtered air blowing on more of his shoulders than are usually exposed. Jim just grabs Bones’s arm, pulling him out of the turbolift. There are plenty of people around now, and even the short walk to Jim’s room seems unendurable. 

“I am going to rip that goddamn green shirt off you,” Bones says, leaning in closer to him to whisper. 

Jim lets out a startled laugh, looking over at him, but Bones is covering with his usual scowl. Jim can’t even imagine how quickly rumors are going to spread around the ship — maybe they already are, with both of them getting off the turbolift looking like this, and then going straight for Jim’s room, too. 

So Jim just laughs, and asks quietly, “Because you can’t wait to see me out of it? Or because you hate it so much?”

“Both,” Bones says when they get in front of his door. He looks at Jim, trying and failing to maintain a frown. “Don’t deny you’ve been fucking torturing me with that thing since we set foot on this five-year mission.”

Jim’s eyes widen with mock-innocence. “Torture?” he asks, and promptly shoves Bones into the room. Bones laughs, arms back around him the second the doors close behind them. “How can it be torture when you love it so much?” 

Bones just rolls his eyes, but in just a second he’s looking at Jim again — immediately back to being wide-eyed, desperate, running his tongue over his bottom lip, entire body arching against Jim’s. He’s never seen Bones like this, and he runs his hands over his waist and hips, reveling in how gorgeous he is. Jim’s had plenty of sex, but it’s never felt anything like this, and they haven’t even done anything yet. Hell, Bones has been in this room hundreds of times, too, but it’s going to be different now — they’ll occupy each other’s lives and spaces in a whole new way. 

He runs one hand through Bones’s dark hair, feeling Bones shiver against him. “Fuck,” Jim breathes, very eloquently. 

“You’re gonna be real chatty when you fuck me, aren’t you?” Bones asks, face flushing. 

Jim grins, pressing a kiss to his lips as he feels Bones shift away from him just far enough to grab at his shirt. They’ve made it approximately two feet inside the door. “Just think of how much more we’re gonna have to talk about,” Jim says, looking down at Bones’s hands. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ve always had a real shortage.”

Bones yanks at the clip keeping his shirt on, and Jim hears something snap just before he feels the shirt slide down his shoulders. Jim lets go of Bones to let it fall to the ground, laughing at Bones’s triumphant look. “Bones, that’s barely broken,” he says, neglecting to add that he has no fewer than a dozen identical green shirts in his closet. After all, why ruin Bones’s fun? And Jim can’t help but think of how much more fun it’ll be next week when he wears one. 

When Bones inevitably moves in, though — well, then Jim will have to come up with some sort of high-security storage place for them. Lock and key and biometrics, probably. 

When Bones inevitably moves in — he realizes, a second too late, exactly what he thought, and his brain almost comes to a screeching halt. But he’s got Bones’s hands on his bare skin, and that’s more than enough to pull his attention back to the present. Hell, they’ve got all the time in the world now — another four-and-a-half-years of uninterrupted space. 

“Jim,” Bones snaps, “what are you smilin’ about?” 

Jim just lets himself smile wider, until he’s grinning incorrigibly. “You know, I’m really glad the world didn’t end.”

“Ya think?” he says dryly.

Jim laughs and starts urging Bones backwards towards the bed.