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It’s tempting to go into the medical center to find Bones. Eating that pizza early this morning had proven to be a mistake. One that Jim really doesn’t want to admit to Bones. It seems to have passed, but the idea of getting something to help his upset stomach is almost worth the knowledge that he’d never hear the end of it. It isn’t his fault that whatever meat used must have been old or something. He’s eaten cold pizza plenty of times before without spending the morning running to the toilet, after all, so this wasn’t due to him not listening, in any way, shape or form.
Jim settles back onto Jessica and stares at the shiny building that houses the academy medical center and training facilities. Bones constantly bitches about all the windows and too much natural light, which never makes sense to Jim because he thinks doctors should want to see their patients. Of course, Bones has to find something to bitch about, so the windows are just one of many targets. Jim actually likes the building, not that he goes inside unless he has to. Not even his friendship with Bones can make him want to spend time at a hospital.
Hospitals suck. He can’t stand them and never has. It’s one reason he doesn’t really understand how visiting Pike yesterday could have been almost comfortable. Hospitals smell weird, and there are just too many things that poke. He likes knives, can admire a finely cut blade, but needles are just little instruments of torture. He probably chose the wrong career path considering his dislike of the damn things, seeing as he has to get inoculations every month, it seems. Why can’t they just create some pill to swallow that protects from any space parasite or virus ever created?
What the hell is he doing? Sitting outside the medical center mooning around like some silly teenage girl with a crush is what. He rolls his eyes because, really, he didn’t actually want an answer to that question. Trust his brain to decide to function long enough to give him one, though. It’s just his fucking luck. They say he’s a genius and use a lot of fancy adjectives to describe his intelligence whenever he bothers to apply himself, which isn’t that often, yet that allegedly brilliant mind of his rarely seems to work in a general setting unless he unconsciously wants to humiliate himself. Like now.
Can it be unconscious if he’s aware of it? He ducks his head and rests his elbow on Jessica’s handlebar so that he can rub his temple. Maybe it wasn’t the pizza that made him sick. Maybe he has some rare form of parasite that causes him to do stupid shit even when he knows better. If that were the case, he’s had it since he was a kid, but still. It’s a plausible theory. He might have only taken Space Diseases: Signs and Symptoms to fulfill a requirement, but he paid attention. Somewhat. Well, not really that much but it’s still possible.
“Jim? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too, Bones,” he mutters. He knew he shouldn’t have asked how this could get any worse. Wait. He didn’t actually ask that, did he? Now life is just playing cruel jokes on him for kicks, it seems. Yeah, well, fuck life, then. He looks up to see Bones standing on the sidewalk wearing his regulation medical uniform and, damn, that’s hot. The shirt’s too tight, the pants are fit too well, and Jim glares slightly as he imagines how many people must have stared at Bones’ ass today.
“You look like shit,” Bones tells him. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re just full of charm today, aren’t you?” Jim snorts and shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Spent the morning with my head in the toilet, but I feel much better, thanks.”
Bones frowns and walks closer. “You were vomiting? What other symptoms do you have? Are you dizzy? If so, what the hell are you doing riding that bike all over campus?”
“You might wait to yell at me until after I answer the question,” he points out. “No, I’m not dizzy. I just ate something bad, Doctor. The whole living on the toilet thing passed hours ago.”
“It was that pizza, wasn’t it? Damn it, Jim! I warned you.”
“You don’t know if it was the pizza or not so shut the fuck up.” Jim makes a face. “It might have been that sandwich I bought at the gas station, you know? The pizza might have been perfectly acceptable as an early morning snack.”
“You ate one of those refrigerated sandwiches from a gas station? No wonder you’re sick. That and cold pizza?” Bones clucks his tongue in that ‘I’m really disappointed in you and surprised that you’re not dead yet’ way that Jim’s been hearing since they first met.
Used to be, he’d roll his eyes and make some wiseass remark in response to Bones’ scolding. Now, it irritates him in a way because Bones isn’t some surrogate parent or anything fucked up like that, and it makes Jim feel like an irresponsible kid instead of an equal. Best friends don’t always have to have some kind of balance like that but there has to be one if they’re screwing around. He’s already kinda let Bones have control when they’ve been fucking, something he’s never done before, so he has to keep some sort of equality in this part of it or he’ll become even more pathetic.
“You know, I didn’t come here for lectures about my dietary habits,” he mutters crossly.
Bones frowns and reaches out to grip Jessica’s handlebar, near Jim’s elbow. “Actually, that brings up an interesting question. Why are you here, Jim? You hate going into this place unless it’s required.”
Jim is really proud of himself for managing to think before he speaks. ‘You’re here’ is his honest reply, but he can’t really say that. That means he has to figure out what to say that isn’t an obvious lie because Bones knows him too well, and he can see through an outright lie easier than Jim can get into a fight. Well, maybe not that easily.
“Jess and I were out for a ride, and I started to feel queasy, so we stopped,” he says in his best ‘no, I’m not full of shit and you’d better not question my sincerity’ tone.
“You’re full of shit.” Fuck it all. Bones obviously needs to learn Jim’s tones better. Bones spreads his fingers wider on Jessica’s handlebar, until a couple touch Jim’s elbow. Jim looks at him in surprise. “I know why you’re here, Jim.”
Jim clears his throat and shifts his position on the bike. “You do?” His voice did not just squeak. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And one more for good measure. Fuck.
Bones leans forward and glances down at Jim’s mouth briefly before he blinks and focuses. “It’s the monthly free STD clinic for students,” Bones murmurs before pulling back and smirking.
It takes Jim a few seconds to process because his mouth is dry and he’s dealing with the shock that it seems Bones is maybe going to kiss him right there in the parking lot where anyone can see. Then he realizes what Bones said, and heat floods his cheeks even as he tries to think of a ‘normal best friend being an asshole’ reply.
“Yeah, you guessed it. I thought you might need a friend to hold your hand when you were getting tested,” he says with mock sympathy. “What are friends for?”
Bones snorts. “They don’t have celibacy tests, Jim. I haven’t screwed half the women on campus like you. Hell, I haven’t been with anyone since my wi--“ He trails off and looks awkward for a moment.
“Since me,” Jim whispers, tightening his grip on the handlebar. He moves his elbow off the other one and stares over Bones’ shoulder. “Might need to get tested after all, Bones. Seeing as how I’ve screwed over half the females here and all. Don’t worry too much, though. We haven’t done anything that should put you at risk.”
“Damn it, Jim. That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Bones says in a low tone before he looks around. “And can we please not talk about that right now.”
“What do I know? That you had my cock in your mouth this morning but still think you haven’t been fucking anyone since your ex?” Jim laughs dryly. “It’s alright, you know? I get it. I’m the whore who has sex with anything with a pulse, and you’re the upstanding mature one who resists ever feeling a fucking thing that might make you happy.”
Bones scowls and steps closer, straddling Jessica’s front wheel as he leans in. “I’ve told you before not to presume to know how I feel, Jim. You’re a selfish ass who wants what you want, damn the consequences. Maybe you can get through life taking one risk after another until you get yourself fucking killed, but I’m not like that. Not like you.”
“Fuck you, McCoy.” Jim starts Jessica suddenly, revving up her engine loud enough to startle Bones. “If I was so damn selfish, I wouldn’t care,” he says finally before he puts Jessica into reverse and leaves before Bones can say anything.
He’s so angry that his hands are shaking, and he feels like a coward for running instead of fighting. If it wasn’t so messed up, he’d be amused that Bones finally pushed back a little. Instead, he’s hurt for some inexplicable reason. Bones didn’t say anything that he hasn’t said a dozen times over the years. The meaning has changed, though, now that they’re not just best friends. Hasn’t it?
Being called a man-whore by his best friend is almost a mark of pride. He’s fucked a lot of women, there’s no denying that nor would he make excuses for it, and men tend to think highly about that sort of thing. He doesn’t really brag, contrary to popular belief, but he does get smug about it, especially when Bones mutters and keeps track of his conquests.
Being called a man-whore by the man that he’s having sex with and starting to feel complicated weird emotions about is an insult. Emotions are shit. They’re worthless, and Jim’s never had much use for them. He is indifferent about his stepfather, never sees his brother, and his mother abandoned him with an abusive bastard so that says it all, really. He used to hate his stepfather, just like he hated his brother and his mother for leaving him, but hate takes too much energy, so now he just doesn’t care. It’s easier and less complicated that way.
He can feel affection towards things, even some people, so it’s not like he’s a human Spock with no emotions at all or some shit. He just doesn’t want anyone to have that sort of power over him, to make him dependent on them, and it scares him to death that Bones is someone he knows he can’t do without. Even before all the fucking and drama started, Bones had earned that from him. It’s why he’s never acted on the occasional fantasy and the undeniable attraction that he’s felt towards his best friend.
This isn’t his fault.
Bones is the one who started it. He turns Jessica onto the street that runs to his dorm and picks up speed. It’s Bones who started groping him during their ride that night. It’s Bones who kissed him after they were fighting the other night. It’s Bones who pushed him onto the bed last night. He’s gone with it, following Bones’ lead because he’s been shocked at having the opportunity to finally have something he’s wanted for years, but it’s all Bones’ fault for crossing the line first.
He drives past his dorm, taking a corner too sharply but managing to keep control of Jessica. Bones is right about one thing: he is a selfish fucker. He wants to keep their friendship, but he also wants more. He wants more than Bones can give, or will give. And now, after all this, there’s no way that they can just go back to like it was before. He can’t be ‘just friends’ when he’s thinking about how Bones tastes, how he feels, how he smells. It’s impossible.
This is why friends don’t fuck.
“I don’t know where we’re going, Jess,” he admits as he takes yet another turn. He considers leaving campus. It’s a lot more lax right now, since he got back. Before, he often had to sneak out or flatter whichever guard was on duty to let him through whenever he felt a need to get away when it wasn’t approved leave. Now, people are constantly coming and going, dealing with all the deaths that couldn’t be stopped or finishing up whatever is needed for their academic year to be complete. It’s almost lost appeal to leave campus when he doesn’t have to be sneaky about it.
After being sick all morning, he isn’t sure that going to the bar is the best idea. Normally, he wouldn’t care much, but he’s supposed to meet with someone tomorrow about his disciplinary hearing, so he doesn’t want to be hungover or ill. Getting back into space is a priority, whether it’s as ensign, first officer, or captain. The title doesn’t matter so much yet, so long as he’s back up there where it felt like he belonged. Not that he doesn’t prefer Captain. Who wouldn’t? Even with all the responsibility that comes along with it, it’s what he wants. Nothing political or that requires a lot of ass kissing. Just give him a ship and a competent crew, and he’ll be content for the rest of his life.
So, yeah. No bar tonight. He considers driving to the Bay. That’s always a good drive, and he kinda likes sitting on a cliff overlooking the water. It’s one of the few places where he can actually sit peacefully without feeling a need to do something and be active. After everything that’s happened with Bones this afternoon, zoning out and listening to ships on the water might be his best bet. It’s more productive than going to Bones’ dorm and confronting him, which is his other primary thought right now.
It’s stupid to go there. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say because he’s too confused about this to make sense of it. Talking has never been his thing. He’s a doer, a man of action. Only, that’s not helpful right now. Action seems to lead to fighting, which they’ve done more of in the last two weeks than like the last two years. Real fights, with words that intend to cut and hurt and even fists. Before, their fighting was bickering and more teasing than anything else. Now, that’s changed, too.
Everything’s changing. It’s like the black hole didn’t just take Vulcan and billions of people. It took away whatever was in his life that balanced it and let it make sense. Damn. How can he do that? How can he compare losing all that their universe lost with his life being fucked up? No wonder Bones thinks he’s some dumb kid who has temper tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants. For a moment, Jim’s disgusted with himself, and he hates that feeling.
Maybe a drink isn’t such a bad idea, after all.
End