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Part One is here


“Okay, what’s happened, man?” M’Benga sits down with him at lunch time Friday. “A couple of weeks ago you were Mr. Thunderclouds. Last few days you’ve been almost human. But today? Something’s distracting you. Now what is it?”

Leonard eyes the man, who is the closest thing he has to a friend here. “Can I ask you a personal question, Geoff?”

M’Benga looks dubious. “Okay?”

“Okay. So suppose in a moment of weakness you signed up for one of those dating websites, and then suppose you started talking with someone,” Leonard says. “And suppose now that someone wants to meet you for coffee tomorrow. Now what would you do? Hypothetically of course.”

“Mmmhmm. Leonard.” M’Benga looks back at him evenly. “Do you like talking to this person? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Yeah,” Leonard says honestly. “I do. Er, hypothetically, I mean.”

“Then go for it,” M’Benga says. “Stay in a public place and all, but yeah, do it. Always give in to temptation, Leonard,” he adds in instructional tones, “as it may not present itself twice.”

Jim’s face flickers in Leonard’s mind once more. “Thanks, Geoff,” he says.

That night, at their regularly scheduled chatting date, Leonard takes a deep breath as he starts to type.

WholeDayThrough : So, do you think you still want to meet for coffee tomorrow?
ATallShip : Yeah, totally! :D When? Where? You tell me, Bones!
WholeDayThrough : Well my favorite coffee shop is near where I work. It’s called Common Grounds.
ATallShip : Yeah? I totally know where that is. What time?
WholeDayThrough : How about 11?
ATallShip : Sure! It’s a date! :D
ATallShip : Uh, how will I know you’re you, though?
WholeDayThrough : Good point.
WholeDayThrough : I’ll wear blue. How’s that?
ATallShip : Dorky guy in blue, got it. :D
WholeDayThrough : :P

They talk for a while more, and when they say good night, Leonard feels simultaneously pleased and nervous about their date the next day.


He sleeps in the next morning, and grooms leisurely. He selects jeans and the blue shirt. He messes with the buttons and sleeves, before deciding to leave the top two buttons undone and the sleeves partially rolled up.

There. Leonard thinks he looks the right amount of casual I’m on a date but I totally didn’t stress about dressing up for it.

He tries to time himself carefully to get to the coffeeshop just a couple of minutes past the hour. He scans the mostly empty shop for a likely candidate for JT, but doesn’t see anyone likely to be his date. He also hasn’t been on a date in over eight years, and he can’t quite remember if he’s supposed to get coffee on his own or wait for JT first.

God, dating’s hard. Why did he ever decide he wanted to do this?

Because you hope to have sex again before you die? answers the cynical part of Leonard’s brain.

He looks up each time the little bell above the entry door chimes, suddenly nervous.

The third time he looks up? That’s when Jim walks in.

Leonard tries not to stare, flush, or otherwise do anything that makes him look as awkward and surprised as he feels. The man is just as handsome as he remembers—possibly more so. He’s wearing jeans and a black Ramones t-shirt over a long-sleeved white shirt. The clothes hug his body, and his familiar sunny smile looks even brighter than usual.

It falters when he sees Leonard, just for a second, and then he’s coming over to him.

“Hey, Leonard,” he says, customary smile restored. “Long time, no see, man. How’s it going?”

“I’m doin’ alright,” Leonard says. “Yourself? How’s the new place treating you?”

“Good, good,” Jim says. “Lots of things are going pretty good right now. Looks like for you too. You look different. Is life treating you better?”

“It’s starting to,” says Leonard. He feels awkward, but plunges on ahead. “I’m, uh, here to meet someone actually.”

“Yeah? That’s great!” Jim is still smiling. “Um, me too, actually,” he continues.

“Oh!” Leonard feels even more foolish now, because he’s somehow jealous that a guy he’s met a handful of times is having a date, even though he himself has one as well. It’s foolish and petty, and yet Leonard feels it nonetheless. “What a coincidence huh?”

“Yeah,” says Jim. “Yeah. So what’s she like?”

“Well it’s a he, actually,” Leonard says. “And he’s…he’s funny. He makes me laugh a lot.”

“Oh, wow,” says Jim. “I didn’t know you were into guys. Of course there’s no way I would have known that. Um. Yeah, that’s great. Um. I’m babbling now, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Leonard looks at Jim, trying to figure out why the young man is blushing so hard right now. Surely he can’t be that surprised at same-sex relationships; not in San Francisco, for crying out loud. He glances at his watch, frowning. “He’s a few minutes late, actually. I hope he’s okay.”

He looks back up at Jim who is looking at him with—intensity now. “Uh, Leonard,” he says, “you aren’t, um—“ He breaks off awkwardly. “Is that shirt supposed to be blue?” he asks in a rush.

“Supposed to be?” Leonard asks in confusion, and then comprehension starts to dawn. “It is blue!”

“Dude, that’s gray,” Jim says. He looks incredulous, and starts to laugh. “Leonard, that shirt is gray, not blue!”

“JT?” Leonard asks. Time seems to have frozen, and he feels warm with something like joy and surprise and embarassment, and—he doesn’t even know.

Jim is laughing. “Yeah, that’s me,” he says, eyelids half closed with mirth. “I go by JT with most folks at first, but Jim is for people I really, really like. Oh my God. Hi, Leonard,” he says again, and their hands meet in greeting.

Leonard shakes Jim’s hand, which is dry and callussed, he notices.

They just stare at each other like that for a few minutes, grinning like idiots. Jim’s eyes really are the most amazing blue, and he has dimples when he smiles. Leonard examines him closely, then realizes he’s probably being rude and shakes himself out of it.

“Coffee?” he says.

“Coffee,” agrees Jim.

They get their drinks and then sit back down at the table. Jim is still chuckling. “Blue,” he says. “You need to get your eyes checked, Bones.”

“What? It’s blue!”

“So not blue, man. That is gray.”

“Yeah, well. It’s blue to me,” says Leonard.

Jim smiles, winking at him cutely. “Okay, fine. That is a beautiful blue shirt you’ve got on there. I’m sorry I ever could have doubted you.”

“Apology accepted,” Leonard says.

They make small talk for a while; the appointed half hour comes and goes. Some time later Jim grins at him hesitantly. “Alright then. I’ve got something to ask you. But you have to be honest with me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Leonard says hesitantly. He isn’t sure what Jim wants to know, but he couldn’t have expected the reality.

Jim takes a deep breath and lets it out dramatically. “Alright, then. ‘Wicked stamp collection.’ What was that about? I meant to ask and kept forgetting.”

“Oh that,” says Leonard, laughably relieved. “That was me typing too late at night. I haven’t collected stamps since I was twelve or whatever. What?” he adds at Jim’s peculiar look.

"Dude, seriously? The stamp collection? That's real?"

"It is,” Leonard says, only slightly defensive. “Well was. Well maybe." He pauses. "If Mom hasn't thrown it out yet, it’s somewhere in the bowels of her house back in Georgia."

"But I thought you were being all ironic!" Jim is starting to laugh again.

Leonard scowls. "Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not Dave Eggers!"

That sets Jim off again. The younger man laughs until he has to plant his head down into his arms; his shoulders quake in amusement. Leonard notices that Jim has truly beautiful shoulders, with a shallow hollow between them that invites—He shuts that thought off abruptly. You’ve already had sex, sort of, he reminds himself mentally. Try not to think about that right now.

Jim looks up again, rubbing moisture from his eyes. “Aw, man,” he says, “I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.” He beams at Leonard, biting his lower lip in thought. “Oh, hey, I brought you something,” he adds, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it to Leonard.

It’s a CD. “For Bones” is written in black sharpie across its surface; the letters are blockey capitals. Tucked inside the sleeve envelope is a piece of paper that has numbered song titles written on it.

“Your mix,” Jim says. “I finished it this morning.”

Leonard is reading the track list when Jim grabs his phone and begins punching numbers into it. He stares at the other man, thinking he should be annoyed if not outraged, but actually only thinking how it is somehow amusing when the younger man does it. Jim’s tongue is sticking out to the side of his mouth slightly in concentration, then he beams at Leonard and returns the device.

“I programmed my number into your Favorites,” he says. “And I downloaded a new instant messenger app if you feel the overwhelming urge to text me when you’re not home.”

Leonard takes the phone back. Somehow he’s not surprised that Jim has programmed himself into the device as ‘1 – Jim’ so that he displays first in the Address Book. “Are you saying you’re my number one?” he asks.

“Are you saying I’m not?” Jim answers. “Because if so, there is imminent pouting in your future.”

“Heaven forefend,” Leonard says without any real heat, then laughs when Jim arranges his expression into the aforementioned pout. His eyes widen, staring soulfully into his.

“Bones,” Jim says, “Can I have your phone number now? Please?”

“Only if you promise to stop calling me that,” he says. “And stop pouting!”

The rest of their date passes like that; banter and jokes and chatting about everything and
nothing. Their second date is the day after their first. They roam around Chinatown, and with a smirk Jim leads him into a tiny little shop that seems to specialize primarily in pornography, but further back is a treasure trove of imported Chinese and Japanese films.

“I love this stuff, man,” Jim says eagerly. He holds up a copy of something called The Twilight Samurai. “This? Is the best samurai film ever made! You have to see it!”

Leonard is perusing the Hong Kong section. While he likes action movies as much as the next human possessing a Y-chromosome, he has to admit that the gaudy, cardboard covers amuse him as much as the movies they hold. He holds up an early Jet Li film called Swordsman 2.

“What about this one?”

Jim pauses. “Okay, Bones? If we watch that? We need way more beer than you probably have right now.”

“Why?” Leonard asks curiously.

Jim just looks at him, wordless, then takes the DVD and goes straight to the cash register. “You won’t believe me even if I tell you,” he says. “It has to be seen to be believed.”

Several hours later, they are watching the film on Leonard’s couch, one six pack depleted and the other half empty.

“I’m not sure that the beer is helping as much as you think it is,” he says uncertainly.

“No, man,” Jim whispers back, “this is totally the way you have to watch this.”

“But the guy? Is a chick? Or not?” Leonard says quietly. “Also, why are we whispering?”

“’Cause,” Jim says. “We’re watching a movie. Dork.”

And they settle back for the rest of it. Afterwards Leonard stares at Jim. “You weren’t kidding. That was the weirdest movie I’ve ever seen.”

“Like it?” Jim looks smug.

Leonard shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m not sure ‘like’ is the right word.”

“You did!” Jim says playfully. “I told you that you’d like it, baby.”

“Baby?” Leonard says. “I’m a decade older than you, kid. Baby?” he repeats incredulously.

Jim flushes slightly. “Well what would you rather I call you, then?” he asks. He seems to be serious for once. “You don’t seem like a ‘hon’, or a ‘sweetie’. And you call me ‘kid’ half the time, so I figure I should give as good as I get.” He smiles broadly at that. “Baby!”

“Just don’t put me in a corner,” Leonard grumps.

Jim stares at him for a second, then hoots with laughter. His arms are around Leonard then, pulling him close as he continues to laugh with surprised delight. Leonard is astonished at first, then he relaxes, and enjoys the sound of Jim’s happiness.


When Jim turns the key into his door when he gets home that night, he is surprised when Spock peeks his head out from the adjoining duplex. He’s even more so when the quiet man then joins him outside.

“Hey, man,” Jim whispers guiltily, taking extra care to move with stealth. “I didn’t wake Nyota did I? I’m really sorry--”

“Nyota is sleeping well,” Spock forestalls him. He follows Jim into the house, expression quizzical. “The second trimester is proving most exhausting to her. No, she expressed concern for your welfare earlier this evening, and I thought it wise to ‘check in’ with you when I heard you arrive.”

“My welfare?” Jim is turning lights on as he speaks, while simultaneously flipping through his mail (junk, junk, Netflix, coupons, National Geographic). “What’s up with that? I’m doing great.”

“Jim.” Spock looks at him directly, and Jim stops moving to stare back at him. He is pleased to note that the man is wearing the Lawyers do it lawgically t-shirt he gave him as a joke graduation gift last summer. “Nyota and I have known you for over three years and this is the first time in that period where you have exhibited this behavior. It is most erratic and she is concerned! Given both her physical and emotional condition at the present time, I thought it wise to make my own inquiries into the matter.”

“Spock,” Jim says, “I know you just graduated from law school and all, but can you please speak English for me right now? It’s late, dude.”

“Yes. It is approximately one o’ clock in the morning and you have just arrived home when you must go to work in four hours.”

“Mm, five actually,” Jim corrects. “I don’t have to open the new store, I just get to manage. Yay adminstrative duties!”

“All the same,” Spock continues doggedly. “Last week we didn’t see you at all though you were home. This weekend you were largely absent. This behavior is most unusual for you, Jim. As your friends, it is our duty to find out, as you would say, ‘what the hell is going on.’”

“Spock,” Jim says. He feels warmth radiating outward from his chest and knows he has to be grinning the doofiest grin in existence. “I met someone. Okay? I’ve met the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my life. And the best part is it’s someone I already knew!”

His friend raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Elaborate, please?”

Jim collapses on the couch. “Oh, where to start?” He grins impishly.

Spock perches stiffly on the ottoman before him. “The beginning would be preferred. It is generally the accepted method of communicating a narrative. Continue.”

“God, Spock.” Jim rolls his eyes. “Okay, remember the guy I used to see at work? The really gorgeous, tragic-faced guy?”

“Correct.” Spock cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “I recall your periodic updates on your frustration with his repeated failure to notice you.”

“Rub it in.” Jim makes a face at his friend. “Yeah, so after they transferred me, I thought it might be a sign or something to try something new. You know? So I signed up for one of those dating websites, and I met this really interesting guy, and then I met him for a date yesterday.” He leans in close to Spock. “And get this? My date? Was the guy!”

Spock eyes him uncertainly. “That is only logical, Jim,” he says. “If your date had proved to not be your date, one could only conjecture as to the sinister motives of certain individuals taking advantage of the unsuspecting populace via the Internet, or, alternatively, your enrollment in a mediocre romantic comedy.” He pauses. “I’m not sure which is more discomfiting to contemplate.”

“Yeah,” Jim says. He loves his friends, but really, Spock can be so weird some times. “So, my date turned out to be Leonard—the guy from the coffeeshop.”

“Ah,” says Spock. “Such a coincidence given the dense population of the area is highly unlikely. Fascinating.”

“Whatever, dude.” Jim grins at him. “Now will you go back to your wife and let me get some sleep, already?”

“I shall,” Spock says. Before he leaves, he turns to Jim with an expression as close to a smile as he has ever seen when not in the presence of Nyota. “I am pleased for you, my friend. But I am sure my wife would be most vocal if I did not indicate that you should bring your prospective partner for us to, and I quote, ‘inspect.’”

“Good night, Spock.”

“Good evening, Jim.”

Jim sighs as he hears the door close. God, this couch is comfy. Deciding that moving is too much trouble, he kicks off his shoes, sets an alarm on his cell phone, and turns off the light. He’s asleep in seconds.

The next day he texts Nyota when he’s on his lunchbreak.

I suck as a human being he writes. How r u?

She responds immediately. =P

Sighing, he calls her up the old-fashioned way. “Jim,” she says cooly when she picks up.

“Hey, girl,” he says. “I’m sorry I dropped off the planet. Your fiancé read me the riot act last night.”

Nyota’s chuckle is warm over the connection. “He told me this morning,” she says. “He didn’t mention any riot act.”

“Well it’s Spock. His riots are different from everyone else’s. Well-known fact.”

“Mmm.” She makes a sound that may be agreement, or may just be thoughtful. “So he told me about your guy.”

“Yeah.” Jim can feel the smile that blooms automatically at the thought of Bones.

“Yeah?” She echoes, laughter rippling softly. “And when are we going to meet him?”


“How soon is soon?”


“Ji-i-im!” She elongates his name into three syllables of amusement and irritation.

“Ny-o-ta!” He echoes her exactly.

She sighs in exasperation. “Fine. Be that way. But be careful, okay? The last time you were this into someone—“

“Don’t go there, Nyota,” Jim warns immediately. Carol Marcus’s face flashes through his brain and turns him cold. “Please.”

“Okay, okay,” she backs off. “I’m just saying. I’m trying to look after you, you know.”

“I know,” he says. “You’re the best big-sister-who’s-not-my-sister-and-who-is-actually-younger- than-me a guy could ever have.”

“Uh huh,” she says. “Okay, Jim, I’m going to let you go now. But you’re bringing your guy over soon, okay? You got me?”

“I got you. Take care.”

“You too.”


“Okay, what’s going on, Leonard?” M’Benga asks Monday afternoon.

Leonard stares at the other man blankly. “What do you mean what’s going on, Geoff?”

“Simple,” M’Benga says. “You’re not Leonard McCoy, you’re some Pod-Leonard-Person. You said ‘hello’ to the nurses this morning. It’s two o’clock and you haven’t yelled at anyone. I think Chapel thinks you’re about to go postal or something.”

“Can’t a man be in a good mood?” Leonard asks.

“A man can be, yes,” M’Benga says. “However, in most realities it’s to be assumed that Leonard McCoy and good moods are antithetical.”

“In most realities?” Leonard echoes. “You watch too much tv, man.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t watch Lost,” Geoff says, voice less sour than before. “J.J. Abrams is a genius. What’s that?”

Leonard’s phone is vibrating; it’s a text message from Jim, probably. They’ve been texting most of the day, in fact.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, reaching to shut the thing off. Unfortunately, M’Benga grabs it from him before he succeeds. “Hey!” Leonard protests. “Geoff! Not cool!”

“What have we here?” M’Benga asks curiously. “ACK!” Whatever he sees startles him so much that he drops the phone; it clatters to the floor.

Leonard picks it up, bewildered. “Jesus, Geoff! What the—Oh.”

Thinking of you, Jim has texted him. Naked.

“I didn’t need to know this about you,” M’Benga says.

“Well don’t steal people’s phones!” Leonard says.

“Duly noted.” M’Benga shakes his head, embarrassed but with a ghost of a smile, and leaves.

Leonard flushes as he re-reads Jim’s text, then messages him back.

Perv. What are you doing for dinner tonight?

How about pizza, beer, and you? Jim responds immediately.

Sex-addict. See you at six?

Jim comes over to Leonard’s place that night after work. He brings beer and a pizza with him, but the drinking doesn’t start in earnest until after they’ve eaten.

When they’ve had two beers each Jim looks at him with that patented Jim Kirk grin and says, “You know what would be awesome? Truth or Dare.”

Leonard snorts at that. “What are we? Twelve? Real adults don’t play Truth or Dare.”

“We could play adult Truth or Dare then.” Jim waggles his eyebrows suggestively, as he rolls over on the couch to follow Leonard with his eyes.

Leonard rolls his eyes and grabs another beer. “You have a one track mind.”

“In my defense, it’s a really good track to be on,” says Jim.

“Fine,” says Leonard. “You first, then.”

“Truth or dare?” Jim asks immediately.


“Oh, you’re no fun,” Jim says in mock-disgust. “Fine. How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

Leonard laughs.

“What?” Jim demands.

“Nothing,” Leonard says. “I just thought it was such a typical Jim thing to ask. Fine,” he sighs. “I was seventeen. It was after prom, with Jocelyn.”

“Wait, Jocelyn-Jocelyn?” Jim stares at him. “Like your ex-wife Jocelyn?”

“The one and only,” Leonard affirms.

“Wow,” Jim says. “You were together that long?”

“Off and on,” says Leonard. “We got married after undergrad, and JoJo was born when I was finishing up med school.” He grimaces into his beer. The two men are quiet for a moment, and with a sigh Leonard joins Jim on the couch. He finishes off his bottle.

“Are you okay, man?” Jim asks.

“I’m fine,” Leonard says. “Truth or dare?”

Jim eyes him. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t make any sort of lewd gesture whatsoever, and nonetheless, his body language has suddenly become redolent with implication. “Dare,” he says at last.

Leonard smirks a little at that. “I dare you not to talk about sex for the next four hours.”

Jim is so aghast that he chokes on his beer. His exaggerated horror is comedic.

“What?! Bones! That is the waste of a perfectly good dare! I’m not gonna let you do that!”

“You just know you can’t actually do it, Jim,” Leonard says smugly. “Admit it.”

Jim glares at him. “Sadist!” he says.

Leonard says nothing, just stares at the younger man until he starts to flush. “Alright, fine,” he says at last.

“Mmhmmm,” Leonard says. “Your turn. Darlin’,” he adds, enunciating his low drawl. The casual endearment makes Jim flush darker still, and Leonard’s surprised at the warm delight he feels in torturing the younger man.

“Truth or dare?” Jim asks darkly.

“Truth,” says Leonard.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Jim asks.

Leonard freezes at that. “Pass,” he says immediately.

“No passes,” Jim says in response.

“I’m serious, Jim,” Leonard says. “You’re… No. I’m stopping this. This was a dumb idea.” He’s off the couch then, throwing his empty beer bottle into the trash with sufficient force to break it.

“Shit, Bones,” Jim says, eyes wide in alarm. “Sorry. Um. Shit.”

“Sorry, Jim,” Leonard says, quietly. “It’s—“ He breaks off, swallowing. To his surprise, he finds he does want to tell Jim. “The thing is,” he starts. Stops. Starts again. “The thing is, I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll hate me. Dammit, Jim, I’m serious,” he adds at the younger man’s dubious expression.

“I wouldn’t hate you, Bones,” Jim says gently. “I don’t think I could. Look, you can talk, or not talk. It’s cool, man. Okay?”

Leonard laughs a little, at that. The sound of it is more than slightly unhinged to his own ears, and Jim’s eyes are wide in consternation. “The worst thing I’ve ever done, Jim?” he says. “The worst thing? I killed my Dad. Okay?”

Jim says nothing, just looks at him with eyes that are like saucers now.

“He was sick, you see,” Leonard continues. “He was sick, and I’m a doctor. There was nothing we could do, and he was gonna die, and it was gonna be long and painful. So he asked me to end it for him. So I did.”

He’s not looking at Jim anymore; he’s looking at his hands now. Remembering the feel of the syringes and the drugs. “Morphine is an amazing thing, Jim,” he says. “A little bit in a healthy body can produce a feeling of euphoria. A little bit in a body under duress can numb pain. Sufficient quantitites can stop the heart. It’s like watching someone go to sleep. Only they don’t wake up.”

“Jesus, Bones,” Jim whispers. His eyes are damp in commiseration. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, Jim,” Leonard says. “You’re sorry. I’m sorry. The whole fucking world is sorry. Jocelyn was sorry, too, until I told her. She lost her shit. It—the marriage hadn’t been working before, but that, that killed it. No one can love a murderer. And that’s what I am, Jim. You get that, right? You get that?” he demands.

“Bones,” Jim says softly. He doesn’t say anything else, but he pulls Leonard to him, and holds him while Leonard feels something break inside of him. He cries then: for himself, for his father, for his broken marriage. Jim holds him tight, murmurs nonsense to him until the storm passes. Exhausted, Leonard lies there in his arms.

“Bones,” Jim says. His voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper in Leonard’s ear. “I never knew my Dad. He died in a car crash. Drunk driver. Mom was in the car too; the shock of the impact sent her into premature labor, and she had me. My birthday was always less about me than the anniversary of my Dad’s death for her.” He pauses. “I looked too much like him, too. That didn’t help either. I left home when I was seventeen, dropped out of high school and everything.

“Chris Pike found me in a bar one night, getting the crap beaten out of me. He didn’t give me any shit about being underage or anything. He cleaned me up, offered me his couch for the night. Ended up giving me a job in his shop. There was something about it all—I go somewhere else when I’m working in there, man. Anyhow, I got my GED, went back to school and got my B.A. Chris and I are still in touch—he’s like a Dad to me. I want you to meet him, some time.”

“Jim,” Leonard says, amused and slightly bewildered at once. “Are you saying you want to take me home to meet your family?”

“Yeah, Bones,” Jim says with that familiar smile. “My real family, though. Family is who takes care of you when you need it.” When he says that, he wipes the last stray tears from Leonard’s face. “So,” he says, “you up for it?”

“Yeah,” Leonard says. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Continued in Part Three


( 3 comments — Add your .02 )
May. 20th, 2010 06:39 pm (UTC)
It's amazing..and very realistic..how such a fun game like Truth or Dare turned into something more serious...but I'm glad that it brought them closer together!
May. 22nd, 2010 02:16 am (UTC)
Leonard scowls. "Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not Dave Eggers!"

(junk, junk, Netflix, coupons, National Geographic)

the man is wearing the Lawyers do it lawgically t-shirt he gave him as a joke graduation gift last summer

I SO needed to laugh like this. Thank you. ♥
May. 22nd, 2010 05:01 am (UTC)
Hee, glad you liked the Dave Eggers and the tshirt jokes! :D
( 3 comments — Add your .02 )

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