Serene and Far (Kirk/McCoy/Sulu, PG-13)
For the "The End" Flash Fic challenge at jim_and_bones , and for rubynye 's prompt: "Jim and Bones are in bed with another character (Gaila, Sulu, Chekov, anyone you like) the morning of their departure for another ship, because that character has been promoted and given a new posting elsewhere."
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Hikaru sleeps with his mouth open and his eyelashes quivering against his cheek, something Jim never knew about him until this morning. It’s amazing how much he still has to learn, and no time to learn it in.
Bones, on the other hand, sleeps as noisily as he lives, tossing and mummifying himself in the sheets, spilling his glass of water on himself, making little sounds that aren’t quite snores but snarls. Sometimes (though not when they have company) he wears an eye shade, a visible protest against Jim’s nocturnal wanderings.
You learn a lot about people living, working and almost dying with them over the course of 7 years, and Jim had learned early on that Sulu had the temperament for command. He had pride in his own considerable skill, but not ambition--that was something Jim had given him, a way to reach and take and want without losing his soul in the process.
Jim’s little secret is that he’s never had any ambition of his own beyond (at first) not failing and making an ass of himself and (later) staying with this ship and these people and this mission as long as humanly possible. And even as he’d pushed Hikaru toward Excelsior, toward his own best destiny, he’d hoped, with some little, avaricious part of himself, that Hikaru might stay, that they all might stay.
Everything in the universe changes, but couldn’t this little piece stay the same?
The fun thing about having more than two people in bed is that it causes interesting chain reactions. Last night, two mouths on him had caused Jim to do things with his own lips and hands that he's confident will never be equaled in the captain’s quarters of the Excelsior. This morning, it’s Bones grunting and rolling over to flop on his side, arm tightening around Hikaru’s chest, which apparently feels just different enough from Jim’s that Bones wakes up with eye-bulging alarm, making big, green frog eyes five inches from Hikaru’s face so that when Hikaru wakes up, he startles and almost knees Jim in the groin.
It’s not sexy but it’s damn funny, and Jim misses it already.
“Ah,” Hikaru says, rubbing his eyes and trying to regain his composure. “Hi.”
“Good morning.” Jim’s used to be the calm one, the yes-you-just-fucked-your-captain but-it’s fine-according-to-regs one. He sees Hikaru’s eyes slide toward the PADD beside the bed. “Still an hour before alpha shift. And we’re not docking for another 7. And all your stuff’s already in the shuttle. Plus, the food synth in here makes pancakes.”
“Perks of being a captain,” Bones croaks, and reaches for his glass of water, spilling half of it on the return trip. “Nicely balances the 800% greater risk of dying.”
“Bones,” Jim says, reproachful, voice laced, he hopes, with overtones of the many, many conversations--okay, arguments--they’ve had about Starfleet’s current military strategy, beginning with the fact that Excelsior’s pre-construction codename was "Firecracker."
“It’s okay,” Hikaru says, catching Jim’s eye and not getting up--in fact, pulling some of the covers back from Bones, which Jim takes as a good omen. “I know what I signed up for.”
“Yeah,” Jim says, every fiber of his being saying No, you don’t. Oh well--finding out was going to be a lot of the fun. He props his head on his hand and lets the other run through Hikaru’s soft black hair, companionable now, as it’s too late in the morning to really start anything, and without the excuse of alcohol, it will seem more nostalgic and maudlin than hot. Jim’s already promised himself that, after he attends the afternoon’s promotion ceremony on Starbase 23, and after he gives Excelsior’s new captain a hearty, bracing handshake befitting a hero, and after the dinner with a full house of admirals, that if he still wants to, he’s going to fucking well come back to his quarters alone and cry.
“Just remember,” Bones says, now sounding less like he ate sandpaper, “no matter how flashy and fast that new girl is, the Enterprise is always your old lady.”
Jim looks at Bones, bemused. Bones has zero patience for nautical traditions, objects to assigning genders to inanimate objects, and hates--or, more properly, is utterly freaked out by--Jim’s tendency to personify and moon over his ship. He wonders if some of it’s been leaking into Bones’s skull through the years, across the pillow, or maybe it’s something more prosaic, like sharing bodily fluids with a pair of captains.
“You can be sure I won’t.” Hikaru’s eyes are bright and clear, looking up into Jim’s. “She’s staying the flagship for a reason.”
“Damn right.” Jim runs a hand down his cheek, to his chest and belly, loving that he can do this, hating that Hikaru will soon be beyond his reach.
A second later, Bones’s hand joins his, and they rest there, intertwined. Hikaru’s lips curve into a smile and he closes his eyes, but Jim knows what he’s seeing behind his eyelids. Whatever else changes, from now on, they'll always have that in common.
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Hikaru sleeps with his mouth open and his eyelashes quivering against his cheek, something Jim never knew about him until this morning. It’s amazing how much he still has to learn, and no time to learn it in.
Bones, on the other hand, sleeps as noisily as he lives, tossing and mummifying himself in the sheets, spilling his glass of water on himself, making little sounds that aren’t quite snores but snarls. Sometimes (though not when they have company) he wears an eye shade, a visible protest against Jim’s nocturnal wanderings.
You learn a lot about people living, working and almost dying with them over the course of 7 years, and Jim had learned early on that Sulu had the temperament for command. He had pride in his own considerable skill, but not ambition--that was something Jim had given him, a way to reach and take and want without losing his soul in the process.
Jim’s little secret is that he’s never had any ambition of his own beyond (at first) not failing and making an ass of himself and (later) staying with this ship and these people and this mission as long as humanly possible. And even as he’d pushed Hikaru toward Excelsior, toward his own best destiny, he’d hoped, with some little, avaricious part of himself, that Hikaru might stay, that they all might stay.
Everything in the universe changes, but couldn’t this little piece stay the same?
The fun thing about having more than two people in bed is that it causes interesting chain reactions. Last night, two mouths on him had caused Jim to do things with his own lips and hands that he's confident will never be equaled in the captain’s quarters of the Excelsior. This morning, it’s Bones grunting and rolling over to flop on his side, arm tightening around Hikaru’s chest, which apparently feels just different enough from Jim’s that Bones wakes up with eye-bulging alarm, making big, green frog eyes five inches from Hikaru’s face so that when Hikaru wakes up, he startles and almost knees Jim in the groin.
It’s not sexy but it’s damn funny, and Jim misses it already.
“Ah,” Hikaru says, rubbing his eyes and trying to regain his composure. “Hi.”
“Good morning.” Jim’s used to be the calm one, the yes-you-just-fucked-your-captain but-it’s fine-according-to-regs one. He sees Hikaru’s eyes slide toward the PADD beside the bed. “Still an hour before alpha shift. And we’re not docking for another 7. And all your stuff’s already in the shuttle. Plus, the food synth in here makes pancakes.”
“Perks of being a captain,” Bones croaks, and reaches for his glass of water, spilling half of it on the return trip. “Nicely balances the 800% greater risk of dying.”
“Bones,” Jim says, reproachful, voice laced, he hopes, with overtones of the many, many conversations--okay, arguments--they’ve had about Starfleet’s current military strategy, beginning with the fact that Excelsior’s pre-construction codename was "Firecracker."
“It’s okay,” Hikaru says, catching Jim’s eye and not getting up--in fact, pulling some of the covers back from Bones, which Jim takes as a good omen. “I know what I signed up for.”
“Yeah,” Jim says, every fiber of his being saying No, you don’t. Oh well--finding out was going to be a lot of the fun. He props his head on his hand and lets the other run through Hikaru’s soft black hair, companionable now, as it’s too late in the morning to really start anything, and without the excuse of alcohol, it will seem more nostalgic and maudlin than hot. Jim’s already promised himself that, after he attends the afternoon’s promotion ceremony on Starbase 23, and after he gives Excelsior’s new captain a hearty, bracing handshake befitting a hero, and after the dinner with a full house of admirals, that if he still wants to, he’s going to fucking well come back to his quarters alone and cry.
“Just remember,” Bones says, now sounding less like he ate sandpaper, “no matter how flashy and fast that new girl is, the Enterprise is always your old lady.”
Jim looks at Bones, bemused. Bones has zero patience for nautical traditions, objects to assigning genders to inanimate objects, and hates--or, more properly, is utterly freaked out by--Jim’s tendency to personify and moon over his ship. He wonders if some of it’s been leaking into Bones’s skull through the years, across the pillow, or maybe it’s something more prosaic, like sharing bodily fluids with a pair of captains.
“You can be sure I won’t.” Hikaru’s eyes are bright and clear, looking up into Jim’s. “She’s staying the flagship for a reason.”
“Damn right.” Jim runs a hand down his cheek, to his chest and belly, loving that he can do this, hating that Hikaru will soon be beyond his reach.
A second later, Bones’s hand joins his, and they rest there, intertwined. Hikaru’s lips curve into a smile and he closes his eyes, but Jim knows what he’s seeing behind his eyelids. Whatever else changes, from now on, they'll always have that in common.