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Jim has not sat in Bones’s office for more than fifteen minutes, but fifteen minutes is more than enough time for him to have found the doctor’s brandy stash and helped himself to his first glass. He is pouring his second when the doors slide open.
“Jim,” Bones pauses in the doorway, eyebrows raised, before noticing the glass in Jim’s hand. Huffing, Bones snatches the glass and bottle. “Don’t you know it's rude to go snooping? A man has a right to privacy.”
Jim doesn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, he watches (a little too closely) the way the doctor's Adam's apple bobs as Bones knocks back the remaining brandy Jim poured with ease. The lingering fruity notes make Bones hum and smack his lips. He holds out the bottle for Jim to re-cap. Unimpressed, Jim tells him to hold the bottle steady while he does. It takes more effort than it should.
"You've got rather unsteady hands, Bones. Don't tell me you started drinking without me."
"Funny," Bones says flatly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Jim rubs his face, not stopping until he sees stars burst behind his eyes.
“Hey,” Bones gently pulls at Jim’s wrists, “talk to me.”
Seeing the concern in Bones’s eyes is too much. Jim looks away, falling back to lean against the doctor’s desk for support.
“How do you know,” Jim takes a deep breath and mutters the words, almost losing them in his exhale, “when things are going to get better?”
“You don’t until you’re on the other side, kid,” Bones says. He pats Jim’s upper arm. After a moment of consideration, he lets it rest there while he continues, “Cat got your tongue?”
“It’s Spock.”
Bones rolls his eyes. “Of course it is. Vulcans are descendants of felines you know.”
“Bones,” Jim chides.
Sighing, Bones leans against his desk and presses against Jim’s side, turning their embrace into a one-armed hug. “Whatever trouble you two have gotten yourselves into, I’m sure you can weasel your way out of it.”
In the privacy of McCoy’s office, Jim rests his head in the crook of Bones’ neck. Stubble pokes his forehead and cheek.
“You need to shave.”
Humming, Bones lets Jim collect his thoughts and pull away when he’s ready. Jim stands then straightens his uniform and fixes his hair. A single strand sticks to his temple. Bones wordlessly tucks it back into place with a small frown.
“Why don’t you follow me to my quarters?” Bones suggests. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement as he adds, “You can keep me company while I shave.”
Jim’s lips slip into a smile as his brow raises. “If I didn’t know any better, Doctor, I’d say you were flirting with me.”
Snorting, Bones swats Jim on the ass as he passes toward the exit. While Jim will still have to figure out what to do with Spock, his chest is lighter knowing he’s not alone. Bones cares too even if he has a different way of showing it. They’ll beat the odds the same way they always do, together.