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Part One is here
Part Two is here
Part Three is here

FOUR

“Bones?” Jim is shocked and relieved when he gets the call. He’s just gotten out of the shower, towel still wrapped around his waist.

“Yeah, Jim,” answers the familiar voice. “Yeah, it’s me. Um. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for—for earlier, and for everything. And if you can give me a second chance, I want to make this work. And if you can’t, I understand.”

Jim exhales heavily. “God, Bones,” he says. “You’re so—so.” He grasps for words. “Emo. Jesus!”

Bones laughs at that. “I’m Emo Jesus? What does that even mean, Jim?”

“I don’t know. I—don’t know.” Jim laughs. “God, Bones. Just—don’t do that to me again, okay? If you need time, if you need space, whatever? Just tell me. I’ll back off, I’ll let you alone. Just let me know.”

“I know, Jim. I’m sorry. I will. Promise.”

“You better. God. Tell me everything’s going to be okay with us, Bones,” Jim says. He swallows heavily, feeling the burn of unshed tears down his throat. He lies back on his bed, phone close to his ear.

“It’s going to be okay, Jim,” Bones says. His voice is firm on the other end of the line, brooking no argument.

“Promise me,” Jim says.

“I promise, darlin.’”

He sighs softly at that. God, he loves Bones’s accent. “Say that again.”

“I promise,” Bones says again. His voice is warmer now, like he knows they are making up for real now. Like he thinks things will be okay now.

“Not that, the other thing,” Jim says.

“Darlin’?”

“Yeah, that.” Jim grins. He closes his eyes, imagines the other man’s amusement, that little smile that quirks his lips and how he looks at Jim out of the corners of his eyes sometimes. “I like it when you call me that, okay.”

“Sure, darlin’,” Bones says. He’s taking care with his accent, drawling out the word low and soft.

Jim shivers in response. “Fuck, Bones,” he murmurs softly. “You just—you know what you do to me, right? Don’t you, baby?”

“Tell me,” says Bones. He says it low and soft, like he knows where Jim’s going with this.

Jim licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry. He swallows nervously, but plunges on. “You turn me on, baby,” he says, laughing quietly. “Shit, Bones. Most guys don’t get a hard-on just from being called ‘darlin’’—you know that right?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Bones says. “You’re the only man I’ve called ‘darlin’’ in a long, long time.’”

Jim grins at that. “Are you saying I’m special, Bones?

He could swear he hears Bones’s eyes rolling at that. “Yeah, yeah, I am,” the other man says. “As if you didn’t know.”

Jim exhales at that; he’s surprised—he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. “That’s good to know,” he says. “So now what?”

“So now,” Bones says slowly, “let’s try this the good old-fashioned way.”

Jim raises an eyebrow at that, and listens.

~

The next night Jim feels unaccountably nervous as he heads to the restaurant. Bones got them reservations and gave him the address; he Googled the place and it sounds like one of the fancier places in town. He checks himself again; he has one formal suit to his name and this is it. He bought it specifically for Nyota and Spock’s wedding in a few months, assuming they don’t give up and elope before the baby comes. (He wouldn’t blame if they did that; he can tell weddings are a pain just from watching. Nonetheless, he’s looking forward to being Nyota’s Man of Honor, thank you very much.)

He leaves his car in a public parking garage and texts Bones that he’s almost there. There’s a crowd in front of the restaurant proper, and then everything recedes into the background. As far as Jim is concerned, the world around him has been reduced to one Leonard McCoy.

Jim doesn’t mean to stare. He doesn’t. Truly. That said, he stares anyway.

Bones is there, waiting for him. He hasn’t seen Jim yet, so his expression is neutral, looking off into the distance. He’s cleanshaven, hair combed back smoothly. He’s in a light gray suit that actually looks tailored, the lines of it conforming to his body perfectly. He has a white shirt on and no tie; the first two buttons are undone. The colors of the clothes emphasize his tan skin and hazel eyes. When he turns to see Jim, he actually smiles, his expression glowing. Little laugh lines and crow’s feet appear. I never realized crow’s feet could be that…sexy, Jim thinks.

He realizes that Bones has been talking and that he has no idea what he’s been saying. Oh God. “Sure,” he answers in response to something. “Great,” says Bones, and they walk inside.

Jim has no idea what he agreed to just now. He could possibly have just sold his soul, or exchanged his firstborn for all he knows. But Bones is close to him, in that suit, and—

Jim tries to concentrate on anything else instead. His senses are hyper-focused right now, so he takes in every detail: the hostess in a retro-cut dress who beams at them admiringly; the cozy booth towards the back where they are seated that has a dark red tea candle that gives off flickering light which makes Bones’s eyes seem to glow; the lengthy menu that was printed off this morning because it’s that type of restaurant, the kind that changes its menu every day. They order, and when the waiter takes the menus away again and leaves, it’s just them.

“You have freckles!” Jim says intelligently. Bones raises a quizzical eyebrow. “I just, uh, noticed,” he says lamely.

“You’re distracted, Jim,” Bones says. He reaches his hand across the table to take Jim’s; his palm is warm and dry against his skin. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not distracted. Do I seem distracted?” Jim says. Bones stares at him. “Okay, yeah, I’m distracted.” He lowers his voice, leaning closer to the table. “You’re really fucking hot tonight, Bones,” he says bluntly. “It kinda hurts to look at you.”

Bones’s expression is unreadable, and then he begins chuckling. His chuckles slowly build to laughter, and his head is bent down in glee, shoulders shaking. He transforms when he laughs, Jim notices, and he promises himself to make that man laugh as much as he can. This is a man who deserves to be happy more often. He doesn’t say any of this out loud (Thank God!), he just sits there and thinks it, and when Bones stops laughing he gives Jim an eloquent look of amusement.

And then their food arrives, and they talk about everything and nothing. Somehow, miraculously, it is that simple. When their plates are emptied, they are taken away, and enough time has passed that the place is mostly empty. When the bill comes, Bones sticks his card in the little leather folder and hands it back to the waiter before Jim can even offer to contribute.

“This is my treat, Jim,” Bones says when he protests. “I told you. We’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”

“Does that mean we’re going back to your place and sitting on the porch swing?” Jim says. “And using the word ‘woo’ without irony?”

Bones doesn’t say anything at that, he just gives Jim a look so intense that his mouth dries up and he can feel himself flush all over.

They leave shortly after that. The street outside is busy now; it’s early summer and the weather is warm, so everyone is outside enjoying it. They walk around leisurely, people-watching. A few blocks away a street fair has been set up. There are multiple booths and stands selling sweets and nick-nacks. There are a handful of street performers as well with acts involving juggling, magic tricks, and in one case, a fire-eater.

“You’re a handsome couple!” declares a man at one booth, who appears to be selling handmade photo-frames made of artistically blown glass and wire. “Each of these is thirty dollars,” he says, “and we can take your picture and print it out for five.” He looks at them cannily. “For you two,” he adds, “I’ll make a deal: two frames, two photos, fifty dollars flat.”

“No, thanks,” says Bones, just as Jim says, “You gotta deal.”

Bones rolls his eyes, but they step into the booth, and fifteen minutes later they have a souvenir of their evening.

“I can’t believe you did that,” says Bones. “It’s highway robbery.” He doesn’t sound like he means it though.

“It’s supporting the local art economy,” corrects Jim immediately. “We’re doing our part to sustain local businesses. It’s good karma.”

“Do you and Nyota ever take any of your work to things like this?” Bones asks curiously.

“Not really,” Jim answers. “I’ve taken some of my broadsides to art fairs and things like that, though.”

“What’s a broadside again?” Leonard asks, trying to remember all of Jim’s printer vocabulary and failing.

“Oh, it’s kind of like a poster, sort of,” Jim explains. He grins sheepishly, caught at using printing jargon. “A single sheet, printed on one side. But mostly when I sell things it’s online. Chris has his shop, but it’s bigger than mine, obviously. And he has a rotation of part-time workers, mostly from art schools and stuff. So he has larger print runs, and he sends some of them out to dealers. I’m still just a part-time operation for the moment.” He kicks a pebble idly, and it skitters across the sidewalk.

“So I work at Common Grounds. It’s decent money, actually, but it leaves less time than I’d like for printing. And I’m better off than I used to be—I used to deliver pizzas for a while, too, but I left that gig when I became a shift manager at the coffeeshop. And as of a few weeks ago now, I’m actually a store manager.” He grins then. “It’s not a bad living. And I get to meet interesting people.” On an impulse, he takes Bones’s hand, and the other man gives him a small smile.

“People, huh?”

“Yeah,” says Jim. “There’s this one guy in particular. He’s gorgeous, kinda quiet though. I really, really like him.”

“I don’t like the sound of this guy,” Bones says with mock-jealousy. “I’m pretty certain of it, actually.”

“I don’t know,” says Jim. “I think you might like him.”

It’s unspoken, but Jim follows Bones home after that. Once inside his apartment, they look at each other.

“Could I get you some coffee, or something?” Bones asks. From another man, these words would be awkward, lame really. But because it’s him, they are hospitable and sweet.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jim says.

“Okay then, if you’re sure.” Bones pauses, and this time it is awkward, like he’s not sure what’s next.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jim gently takes him by the elbows, positioning him. He tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes half-lidded in desire. “Bones.”

As if that were some hidden signal, they are together. Jackets are pulled off, shirts untucked and unbuttoned. They struggle with Jim’s tie, shaking hands bumping into one another. They fall on the bed that takes up a third of the small apartment’s single room, bodies pressed one against the other. Jim is running his fingers through Bones’s hair, the other man trailing gentle caresses between his shoulder blades. Both of them are breathing heavily, and Jim is relieved that he brought condoms in his wallet, just in case.

And of course, that’s the very moment when the phone rings.

Bones jumps up as if he’s been electrocuted. “The hospital—“ he starts, flipping out his phone. “Leonard McCoy,” he says, his voice firm and steady.

Jim lies back, listening. If Bones is being called in, so much for the perfect evening. But he can’t be angry about it; it’s the man’s job after all.

“Jocelyn,” Bones says then, and his voice is different. He’s not angry, exactly, not yet anyway. He’s just—tightly controlled. He gets up and starts pacing around the room. “You’re kidding, right?” Oh wait, that’s angry. “Look, if you didn’t get it, it’s just the bank’s mistake or something. They should be on auto-pay. I’ll call them in the morning.” Bones grimaces as he listens; his hands are white on the phone. Jim wonders if he might break it, he’s holding it that tightly. “You know me better than that,” he says. “You should. Yeah. Yes. Yes, I said. Alright then. Bye.” He stares at the phone, body stiff and angry.

“Uh, Bones?” Jim asks hesitantly. “What’s going on?”

The man doesn’t answer right away, just remains in place. He breathes heavily.

Jim is concerned now—possibly even slightly freaked out. “Are you okay?”

Bones shakes himself slightly, as if waking up. “Yeah,” he says. “No. Maybe?” Jim raises an eyebrow at that, and he smiles slightly. “That was Jocelyn. The monthly deposit for alimony was supposed to go through today. It’s been almost a year and they’ve never been late before, so she felt like calling me up and accusing me of being a dead-beat dad.”

“Jesus,” Jim swears softly.

Bones shakes his head, rubbing his face absently. “Shit,” he says. “It’s so fucking unfair!”

“Talk to me, Bones,” Jim says. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Bones is mutinous, the lines of his body still stiff with indignation and fury. His hair is mussed, too, and with his dress pants loose around his hips he suddenly looks as debauched as Jim has ever seen him. He swallows at that realization; he’s still half-aroused from their earlier explorations, and when their eyes meet (Bones’s reluctantly at first), something unspoken passes between them.

Then Bones is stalking towards him, lithe and assured as some jungle cat, and he leans over Jim in the bed. He looks beautiful and dangerous and something both thrills and cowers in Jim’s stomach. Jim ignores the feeling at first, choosing to tilt his head up to look back at Bones. The other man’s eyes are dark, nearly unreadable; the thing that gets him is that they’ve lost all that warmth that was in them before. Still, their lips meet.

The kiss is not gentle. It’s not sweet, not tender; it is nothing like what was happening barely a half hour ago. Bones’s tongue plunders Jim’s mouth roughly, and he grips the younger man to him as he presses him down into the bed.

Jim is turned on beyond all belief—he wants Bones, has wanted him for a long time. But this man, he realizes, the one who is kissing him like he wants to die, isn’t that man. This is another Leonard McCoy, one who is hurting and angry and out of himself with the pain of it.

“Bones?” Jim says when the other man comes up for air. Bones is seemingly deaf, his teeth biting at Jim’s lips. Grimacing, Jim pushes him away, taking care to be gentle about it nonetheless. “Bones!” he says again.

Bones looks startled, confused. “Hnh?” he asks, inarticulate with frustrated desire.

“We’re not doing this right now, Bones,” Jim says. He grimaces to himself. “I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Jim?” Bones appears to be coming back to himself now, at least, but his face is a mirror of hurt and bewilderment.

Jim puts his hands on the other man’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “We’re not doing this, Bones,” he says gently. “Not right now, okay? When I make love to you, I’m going to make love to you. And you’re not really here, right now, not the way you should be,” he says. “So. You’re going to talk to me right now, instead. Or I can leave if you’re not up for talking. But you’ve got me worried right now, and the sex isn’t happening.”

Bones backs off then, lying back in the bed. “Fuck,” he says softly, eyes closed. He’s quiet then, so quiet that Jim wonders if he has somehow managed to fall asleep. He glances at the clock; it’s well after eleven, so it may well be possible that he has. Then, Bones speaks, softly. “What do you want to talk about?”

They talk then, Bones sometimes haltingly. He tells him more about his marriage to Jocelyn, and how it somehow kept kept getting worse and worse despite his efforts to the contrary. His father’s death two years ago, the divorce last year that left him with a single yearly visit with his daughter.

“When’s that going to be?” Jim asks.

“Christmas, probably,” Bones says. “I haven’t taken any vacation with the hospital, and I already put my leave request in to be on the safe side. Occupational hazard,” he explains. “Holiday shifts are rough.” He sighs. “So there you have it. Every reason I suck as a human being. Well, most of ‘em, anyway.”

“Bones, you’re a good person,” Jim says. Bones snorts at that dubiously. “No, seriously, you are. Okay? You save people’s lives for a living for crying out loud.”

Bones grunts dismissively. “Dammit, Jim. You’re a romantic,” he says, looking away. “This is the real world. People suck. Including me. Sometimes especially me.”

“No you don’t,” Jim says, “Not to me. Look, you know what I thought the first time I ever saw you? I thought, that guy looks like a real person. No, hear me out,” he continues when Bones looks at him with that quizzical eyebrow. “Look, most people in the world are fake, okay? They don’t mean to be, usually, but they are. People think that it’s all the, the stuff is what makes people, right? Okay? The clothes you wear, the books you read, the music you listen to, all that extraneous stuff. But you, you don’t care about any of that. You’ve always been apart from it. You’re real, Bones. You’re rare. And that makes you wonderful.”

Bones’s expression has calmed while he’s listened to all this. “You’re still a romantic, Jim,” he says. He strokes Jim’s bottom lip with his thumb.

Jim bites his finger playfully. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he says. “It doesn’t make me less right, though.”

~

Jim spends the night. They only sleep together, chastely, and they sleep like the dead, too. Leonard discovers that Jim is a cuddler; he wakes up with the other man curled around him, one hand nestled just under his belly button. Jim sets an alarm on his cell phone for an hour and a half before Leonard’s usually goes off, giving him time to drive to the shop.

In the morning, Jim takes a short shower while Leonard sleepily pulls out cereal for breakfast. The sound of flowing water cuts off, and then the other man shyly peeks his head out. “Uh, Bones?” he says, skin flushed from both the heat of the shower and embarrassment. “Do you by any chance have some clothes I could borrow?”

Leonard stares, then feels like a fool. Jim hadn’t planned on spending the night with him last night and all he has is his formal suit. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Just a sec.” He locates a pair of khaki pants and a t-shirt, grateful that the two of them are of similar enough size that sharing clothes is a simple matter. Jim is out of the shower by then, towel wrapped low around his hips. Leonard tries not to stare as he wordlessly passes the clothing to the other man.

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim says, returning to the bathroom to change. He steps out again moments later, dressed this time. Leonard isn’t sure whether he enjoys the view more when it’s just the towel or when it’s Jim in his clothes.

Jim smiles at him brightly. “I was thinking of making a joke about finally getting in your pants,” he says, “but I figured its already been made.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Sex maniac,” Leonard says gruffly.

Jim kisses him then; it starts out playful but quickly becomes—not so playful. With reluctance, Jim breaks it off. “Okay, I’ve gotta go,” he says. “I’ll call you tonight, though.” They kiss once more, and then he’s out the door.

After Jim has left, Leonard takes a shower himself, then reads the paper. He’s about to leave for work when he sees the bag that holds the photos and photo frames Jim bought last night. He pulls one out, removing it from the wads of crinkly tissue paper. The two of them beam out from under the glass; happy, at ease together. Leonard smiles, and decides to take the photo with him to work.



Leonard puts it on his desk at the office. Chapel brings him his morning reports and glances at it curiously. “What’s with the photo?” she asks. He stares at her blankly. “You and the model,” she elaborates. “I don’t recognize him though.”

“That’s not a model, that’s Jim,” Leonard says. He looks at it closer. “You think he’s a model?”

Chapel looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Doctor,” she says sternly.

“No, really, it’s Jim,” Leonard says. “He’s my--” He closes his eyes as he can’t quite believe that he’s saying the words out loud. “—my boyfriend.”

That’s Jim?” Chapel says disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Leonard says. “That’s Jim.”

“Seriously?”

“Chapel!” Leonard glares at her.

“Alright, if you say so,” she says.

The rest of the day passes by quickly, and when he gets home from work he calls Jim while he cooks some dinner.

“So you won’t even believe what happened today!” Jim says eagerly.

“Try me,” Leonard answers. He’s cooking pasta, and once it is simmering in the pot he gives it a last stir before letting it alone while he talks on the phone.

“Okay, so, a month or so ago Pavel and I designed these invitations for Nyota and Spock’s wedding—he did a woodcut and I did the type and printed them. I think I showed the galley to you? Anyhow, people have started getting them and they want to know who did them, and they’ve started emailing me asking about my prices. Bones, I wrote back to one of them saying I’d do a hundred invites for five hundred dollars, and she wrote back yes!” Jim’s enthusiasm across the line is palpable. “Look, if I can maintain a steady business like that, I could focus completely on printing!”

“That’s great, Jim,” Leonard says honestly.

“I hope so, Bones.” Jim sounds hopeful and sort of hesitantly excited; like he’s afraid it might be too good to be true or something. “Look, if I can maintain a steady business of orders like this, I might be able to afford a Vandercook! That’d let me go into the printing business full time!”

“What’s a Vandercook?” Leonard thinks it sounds like camping equipment.

“It’s a big galley proof press. Chris has one in his shop—they’re really nice, especially if you want to print in multiple colors,” Jim rattles off, then pauses. “I’m being a total print geek, aren’t I?”

Leonard chuckles at that. “You are. It’s cute, though.”

“Well I’m glad you think so.” Jim’s voice is pleasantly warm. They pause in conversation for a moment, until Jim sighs. “I wish I was there with you, Bones.”

“Yeah, Jim,” Leonard says softly. “Hey what are you doing tomorrow?

“Business as usual. Why?”

“How about you and I have lunch together then? And maybe have a movie night?”

“That sounds great, Bones!” Jim says. “When and where?”

~

Jim checks the directions he’d written down earlier. He’s on the fourth floor, and he’s pretty sure this is the East Wing… After walking down a series of ice white halls, he finally gives up and stops at a desk with a helpful-looking nurse.

“Hi, I’m looking for Dr. McCoy?” She blinks at him. “I’m meeting him for lunch,” he adds hopefully. Blink. “Okay, thank you,” he says uncertainly, and keeps walking down the hall.

“Um, excuse me?” says a man in a long labcoat. He has a curious but friendly face, and an ID badge on his coat pocket identifies him as a Dr. M’Benga. “I overheard; you’re looking for Leonard?”

“Yeah?” Jim says in relief. “I’m meeting him for lunch. Do you know where he is? I’m Jim, by the way,” he adds.

An astonished look ripples across the doctor’s face. “Oh?” he says, but it comes out as a cough.

“Uh, yeah,” Jim says. “Look, are you okay?” he asks as the man continues to cough. Should I pat him on the back or something? he wonders.

The man is still coughing, but he nods and stops at a water fountain. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he says after drinking some water. “Sorry.” He makes last cough, then speaks clearly once more. “Sorry,” he says again. “Jim, it’s nice to meet you. Geoff M’Benga. I work with Leonard.”

“Oh great,” Jim says politely. “Can you take me to him? I’ve been getting lost. This place is huge!”

“No problem,” M’Benga says. “Come with me.” He leads Jim through the seemingly endless maze of corridors and waiting areas, then takes him through a door with a STAFF ONLY sign to an area of offices. Many of them have their doors shut, but one of them is open and he can hear voices emanating from it.

“Dammit, Chapel, I assure you I’m not making it up!” says Bones, and Jim feels himself smiling at its familiarity.

“Yup, that’s Bones alright!” Jim says to himself. M’Benga looks at him curiously. “Never mind,” he says, grinning sheepishly.

“I’m not saying you’re making anything up, I’m just—oh!” A tall blonde nurse stops mid-sentence when Jim and M’Benga arrive.

Bones makes a “Well there you go!” sort of gesture. “Jim!” he says in greeting. “Christine, Jim. Jim, Christine,” he introduces them shortly.

Jim has no idea what’s going on, but he smiles politely. “Hi,” he says, waving slightly.

The nurse stares at him, mouth open. M’Benga nods in her direction. “Tell me about it,” he says.

Jim gives up on following the by-play. “Lunch?” he asks.

“Lunch,” Bones agrees.

~

They end up buying sandwiches from a nearby shop and eating them outside in the sunshine. Bones looks at the sky thoughtfully as they eat and chat, and Jim feels a warm thrill of pleasure at the man. Three months ago he had been pale and wan, dark eyes burning from his face. Lately he looks healthy again, skin darker, eyes bright but not wild.

He looks happy now, Jim realizes. Followed by, Oh God. I have it so bad.

Too soon they have to part ways and return to work, but afterwards Jim goes to Bones’s place and they cook dinner and watch another samurai movie, this one called Love and Honor.

“Is it really possible to go blind from bad sushi?” Jim asks.

“Bad puffer fish,” Bones corrects him. “And yeah, puffer fish would. Could put you into a coma or kill you, too. Bad sushi could give you food poisoning, but it wouldn’t kill you unless your immune system was compromised.”

Jim makes a sound of disgust, and then Bones’s phone rings. Jim pauses the film as he answers it.

“Hi, Jocelyn.” Bones grimaces, and Jim represses a sigh as the man’s mood visibly drops. “Yeah, I know, I told you the bank would take care of it. Hey, I’m busy right now, can I call you later? Yeah, I know. I know. Look, let me call you later, okay?”

The voice on the other end of the line is increasingly frenetic and angry sounding. Leonard exhales heavily in frustration. “Joc, listen to me. Look, listen to me, please. Joc—“

Jim briefly fantasizes about giving this woman a piece of his mind. It kills him how, with a word, she can change Bones’s mood from happy to miserable. And that’s when, on impulse, he grabs the phone.

“Hi, I’m sorry, but Mr. McCoy is busy and unable to take your call at this time—ack!”

Bones steals the phone back, looking at Jim oddly. “Sorry, that was—that was Jim.” Jim can hear Jocelyn’s angry tones, tinny in the device; but Bones doesn’t look angry now, just sort of bemused. “Joc, he’s not a strange man. Well, yes, he’s a strange man, but he’s a friend of mine. We’re having a boys’ night, okay? We’re having pizza and beer and samurai movies. I’m single, I’m allowed to have those.”

“You are so not single,” Jim mouths to him at that. To his surprise, Bones blushes at that, and Jim grins.

“Look, I gotta go, Joc. I’ll talk to you another time.” He puts the phone away. “I should be angry at you for that,” Bones says to Jim, “but you disconcerted Jocelyn. This makes you my hero for the next hour.”

“Can we spend that hour having sex?” Jim asks hopefully.

Bones eyeballs him, then leans in and kisses him. Jim gasps softly, in surprise and pleasure; he hadn’t thought Bones would actually do this, and his heart leaps in anticipation and desire. He runs his hands down the other man’s back, slips them under his shirt to feel the warm skin there. The other man moans into his mouth, and Jim is suddenly hard and breathless.

“Fuck, Bones,” he whimpers.

At that, to his dismay, Bones pulls back. “We’re not doing this right now,” he says firmly.

“Why not?” Jim asks. “You wanted me the other night, you seem to want me now… I’m confused, Bones. What’s going on?”

“It’s Jocelyn,” he says. “When we do this, I don’t want her involved. You said that yourself before. I want it to be only us.”

“Okay then,” Jim says. He’s already hatching a plan. “We can do that. But you’re going to have to work with me on this…”

Continued in Part Five

Comments

( 4 comments — Add your .02 )
deerang2002
May. 20th, 2010 06:53 pm (UTC)
Ha! I loved Chapel and M'Benga's reaction to Jim...
thalialunacy
May. 22nd, 2010 03:00 am (UTC)
“What’s a Vandercook?” Leonard thinks it sounds like camping equipment.

never ever stop writing comedy :D
clptr
Aug. 25th, 2015 02:19 pm (UTC)
Loving the story so far! And this part with Christine's and M'Benga's reactions was extra funny :)
Also wanted to let you know that some reason the links to the previous and the next part are incomplete (maybe it's just me, though?). It's easy enough to circumvent, but I thought you might want to know.
Anyway, I'm glad to have found this fic (via avictoriangirl's rec) and now I'm off to enjoy the rest of it! Thanks for sharing :)
caitri
Aug. 25th, 2015 02:51 pm (UTC)
*G* Thanks, bb!!!!

A year or two ago LJ updated how you link within your journal and I lost a lot of links in fic, which I've been trying to go back and fix. Thanks for pinging me on this one! :)
( 4 comments — Add your .02 )

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