[In his own head, Bones felt free to think of things on the terms he knew. 'Dating' was a throwback-- granted, to picking a girl up at her place, to offering an arm to walk her along on, and to getting the door for her when they arrived... well, wherever. But none of the other words felt right. 'Fucking' was the sort of back-room vulgarity that everyone tended to do a few times (or more) in their life, but for someone as foul-mouthed as Leonard was, he'd never felt it was comfortable or right to apply that to a person. People were people; something the medical profession was supposed to drill in, but he'd never really needed a lesson in it. Then there was the word 'boyfriend'. Jim acted like a damn boy half the time and was his closest friend, but damn if he was going to call himself Jim's 'boy'-friend. Made his skin crawl. Sounded god-damn adolescent. Then there was 'partner'. Something he applied to Uhura and Spock, mainly because it fit. Tandem. Not always in agreement, but somehow, God bless her, working together. That felt like a sacred space that involved... hell, discussing it? Agreeing on it? Signing a god damn contract?
Sometimes, he liked the nickname Bones best because he felt it described what a fossil he was. The doors didn't need to be held anymore, not here, not in the big cities and the space cities and on the interstellar ships, he came to Jim Kirk's quarters and the door got itself thank you very much. And he didn't need to offer out an elbow or an arm to someone in peak condition, his damn superior officer, Captain Saves The Universe Again. He doesn't know how to do this, but somehow, it just works. It's as natural as breathing. As natural as blinking. And just like someone can't describe how their eyes feel when they're open, he knows his are open, but he couldn't describe it any better than that. He and Jim just were, from the moment they'd met, and now they just are, together. Easy.
Or it was, until Jim started talking about it. Is that what this was gonna be? Well, about damn time he supposed. Jim always felt free to talk to him about anything else happening in his life, and with enough whiskey, so did Bones. Funny, how artfully they'd both avoided the main thing happening in both their lives.
There's a deep breath, as if he needed all that oxygen to power his roll of eyes as he came in, two fingers tracing along Jim's work desk as he did. Maybe 'marking territory' really did fit for them after all.]
You told your mommy? [Well, no, he'd said she knew for sure. Probably had figured it out. Women's intuition. Bones was scientific to his core, but he still believed in the things science couldn't prove: mothers knew shit, for one.] Well, hello to her too. Tell her nice job-- on the whole 'raising a hero' thing. A damned fool, but I'm sure that isn't anyone's fault but your own.
[After all, he'd met Jim Kirk when he'd still had Modern Art for a face: black, blue, and bumpy, the unmistakable signs of picking of a fight all over him. The kind of bravado that just came natural to leader-types.
He admired it, as much as it had a penchant for worrying the hell out of him.
And that's what the extra salt here tonight was. Worry. This could go bad, a gut full of old memories told him, even if he should know better by now-- Jim wasn't her.]
Drink. [Agreed, a nod. He'd let Jim get the glasses for once, deciding to play it a little more cautious than just invading the space like it was his own (like they'd been treating it) while he mulled over his next words.
But he'd never been much of a muller. More of a blurter.]
Couldn't have kept it a secret forever, you know. Not if you wanted to keep carrying on with it. Both with the-- [A vague hand gesture here, towards Jim, back towards himself. There still wasn't a word (dating, fucking, relationshipping), so he let the gesture hang and stand for the vocabulary he didn't have.) --and the being headline news.
no subject
Sometimes, he liked the nickname Bones best because he felt it described what a fossil he was. The doors didn't need to be held anymore, not here, not in the big cities and the space cities and on the interstellar ships, he came to Jim Kirk's quarters and the door got itself thank you very much. And he didn't need to offer out an elbow or an arm to someone in peak condition, his damn superior officer, Captain Saves The Universe Again. He doesn't know how to do this, but somehow, it just works. It's as natural as breathing. As natural as blinking. And just like someone can't describe how their eyes feel when they're open, he knows his are open, but he couldn't describe it any better than that. He and Jim just were, from the moment they'd met, and now they just are, together. Easy.
Or it was, until Jim started talking about it. Is that what this was gonna be? Well, about damn time he supposed. Jim always felt free to talk to him about anything else happening in his life, and with enough whiskey, so did Bones. Funny, how artfully they'd both avoided the main thing happening in both their lives.
There's a deep breath, as if he needed all that oxygen to power his roll of eyes as he came in, two fingers tracing along Jim's work desk as he did. Maybe 'marking territory' really did fit for them after all.]
You told your mommy? [Well, no, he'd said she knew for sure. Probably had figured it out. Women's intuition. Bones was scientific to his core, but he still believed in the things science couldn't prove: mothers knew shit, for one.] Well, hello to her too. Tell her nice job-- on the whole 'raising a hero' thing. A damned fool, but I'm sure that isn't anyone's fault but your own.
[After all, he'd met Jim Kirk when he'd still had Modern Art for a face: black, blue, and bumpy, the unmistakable signs of picking of a fight all over him. The kind of bravado that just came natural to leader-types.
He admired it, as much as it had a penchant for worrying the hell out of him.
And that's what the extra salt here tonight was. Worry. This could go bad, a gut full of old memories told him, even if he should know better by now-- Jim wasn't her.]
Drink. [Agreed, a nod. He'd let Jim get the glasses for once, deciding to play it a little more cautious than just invading the space like it was his own (like they'd been treating it) while he mulled over his next words.
But he'd never been much of a muller. More of a blurter.]
Couldn't have kept it a secret forever, you know. Not if you wanted to keep carrying on with it. Both with the-- [A vague hand gesture here, towards Jim, back towards himself. There still wasn't a word (dating, fucking, relationshipping), so he let the gesture hang and stand for the vocabulary he didn't have.) --and the being headline news.