That's what his look said, lips panning out and eyes finding a spot on the ceiling, as if he needed a moment to silently converse with some ghost. A moment he often took, as if Bones was so chronically surrounded by people who made life impossible that he often needed a time-out to ping-pong a few conversational topics back and forth with no one at all. Often, with mumbling attached. Or sighing.
In this case, the word 'partner' triggered his needing a damn moment.]
Jim, you sound like an idiot cowboy.
[Not to be confused with a real cowboy.
Now granted, as he lifted that refreshed glass to his lips and held it there, letting the rim press its soothing weight against his mouth without sipping, just taking in that biting curl of scent, he felt something inside of him release. Something he couldn't have admitted was nervous, cringing, and just a little bit fucking possessive, even if that was all obvious to Jim without him saying so. Hell, maybe it wasn't obvious to Jim...
But he hadn't wanted him to sleep with other people. Of course not. And it's the first confirmation, out loud, that he didn't want to either.]
Well, we still gotta cover the basics, kid. That's how this works.
['This' being 'defining the parameters of a relationship'. Once you said it out loud, it became a rule of law. It went from slipping up and slipping in, to cheating. It made things different, even if they felt the same.
He finally helped himself to another sip, and went back to eyeing his partner.]
I want you. [It's easy enough to say, easy enough to mean, even if it strikes a cold note of fear deep in his heart, and makes him feel ridiculous. He's too old, he's not handsome enough, he's not cavalier enough, not exciting enough: there are a hundred, thousand reasons why this looked absurd, and was absurd (hell, it wasn't just him; he sometimes had to wonder if in turn Jim was mature enough, ready enough for the blowback, as much as he believes in Jim's fearlessness and loyalty)-- but there were a hundred, thousand much smaller, much more vital ways in which this had always worked. Between them.]
When this comes out, it's gonna be on you. That's what I'm saying here. There won't be a pair of lips not flappin' about it. And I'm not sure either of us is particularly thrilled with that idea. But either way... the responsibility's going to fall on you.
[And he was sorry for that. He was. He could bear the brunt of most things, wanted to even.
But he wasn't the damn Captain who kept saving the Universe.]
no subject
That's what his look said, lips panning out and eyes finding a spot on the ceiling, as if he needed a moment to silently converse with some ghost. A moment he often took, as if Bones was so chronically surrounded by people who made life impossible that he often needed a time-out to ping-pong a few conversational topics back and forth with no one at all. Often, with mumbling attached. Or sighing.
In this case, the word 'partner' triggered his needing a damn moment.]
Jim, you sound like an idiot cowboy.
[Not to be confused with a real cowboy.
Now granted, as he lifted that refreshed glass to his lips and held it there, letting the rim press its soothing weight against his mouth without sipping, just taking in that biting curl of scent, he felt something inside of him release. Something he couldn't have admitted was nervous, cringing, and just a little bit fucking possessive, even if that was all obvious to Jim without him saying so. Hell, maybe it wasn't obvious to Jim...
But he hadn't wanted him to sleep with other people. Of course not. And it's the first confirmation, out loud, that he didn't want to either.]
Well, we still gotta cover the basics, kid. That's how this works.
['This' being 'defining the parameters of a relationship'. Once you said it out loud, it became a rule of law. It went from slipping up and slipping in, to cheating. It made things different, even if they felt the same.
He finally helped himself to another sip, and went back to eyeing his partner.]
I want you. [It's easy enough to say, easy enough to mean, even if it strikes a cold note of fear deep in his heart, and makes him feel ridiculous. He's too old, he's not handsome enough, he's not cavalier enough, not exciting enough: there are a hundred, thousand reasons why this looked absurd, and was absurd (hell, it wasn't just him; he sometimes had to wonder if in turn Jim was mature enough, ready enough for the blowback, as much as he believes in Jim's fearlessness and loyalty)-- but there were a hundred, thousand much smaller, much more vital ways in which this had always worked. Between them.]
When this comes out, it's gonna be on you. That's what I'm saying here. There won't be a pair of lips not flappin' about it. And I'm not sure either of us is particularly thrilled with that idea. But either way... the responsibility's going to fall on you.
[And he was sorry for that. He was. He could bear the brunt of most things, wanted to even.
But he wasn't the damn Captain who kept saving the Universe.]