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Bones likes to say that he's "just an old country doctor." He likes to say it a lot, and has done so in every single variation of emphasis to anyone within earshot at the slightest provocation. But the facts are these:
1) He's only 36 years old, which barely constitutes middle age. Jim, on the other hand, is six years younger and already starting to go prematurely grey, but you never hear him whining about it. (Alright, so he found five grey hairs near his temples and two more down below decks and spent a good fifteen minutes freaking out about it in the bathroom before Bones walked in, but that was one time.)
2) As far as Jim can tell, Bones has never actually practiced medicine in the countryside. For one thing, he now lives on a fucking starship and hasn't set foot on Earth, let alone Georgia, in nearly five years. For another, he got his medical degree in one of the most prestigious Terran universities and completed his residency in Atlanta (population: 967,432 according to the most recent census). Jim grew up on a literal farm in Iowa, and yet he doesn't go around claiming to be some wholesome cornfed country boy.
And finally, 3) Even if Jim could overlook "old" and "country doctor," the idea of Bones being "just" anything is ludicrous. Jim has seen Bones perform advanced neurosurgery with the same steady confidence of quick regen patch jobs on skinned knuckles. The man can diagnose a disease quicker than a tricorder and has a built-in lie detector for patients who try to conceal their symptoms. (Although it seems to malfunction around Jim, because Jim never lies about his symptoms, they're really not that bad.) There are entire colonies, entire planets out there that owe all of their lives to Bones, and he never once acts like this is even remotely impressive.
A lesser man might develop an inferiority complex.
Jim Kirk just thinks it's awesome.
---
"Don't you have a ship to run?" Bones asks pointedly, without looking up.
"Just got off my shift," Jim announces happily. They both know this, because Bones just got off his shift as well. It's the reason Jim is currently hovering around in sick bay waiting for Bones to finish up so they go back. Because really, what's the point of being the captain of your own starship if you can't ensure your boyfriend gets off work at the same time as you?
"I'm gonna be a while yet," Bones says, a hint of apology in his voice. "I have to look over some inventory notes and sign off on a couple patient files."
Jim shrugs, leans one hip into a biobed to settle himself more comfortably. "I can wait. And you didn't answer my question."
Bones finishes tidying up the tray of medical tools and stows it in a sliding drawer, the blue gleam of a decontamination light glowing around its edges. "Which question was that, Jim?" he asks, distracted.
"Being awesome. Do you ever tire of it?" Jim repeats. He doesn't bother hiding his delight at Bones' incredulous expression.
"I'm starting to tire of you," Bones mutters absentmindedly. Insulting Jim is something he can do in his sleep, at this point.
"You don't mean that, baby," Jim coos, skirting around the biobed to stand next to Bones. He could easily vault over it, but the number of times Bones has yelled at him about tampering with medical equipment has finally started to take. "And I'm asking you a serious question."
Bones hums noncommittally, reaches past Jim to pick up a PADD. "Try grinning less when you're asking a serious question," he suggests.
Jim does no such thing. "We had two weeks to study that pathogen," he says. "Two weeks to come up with lab test proposals for the research team Starfleet is dispatching after we leave, and you whipped up an antidote in six days."
Jim pauses, giving Bones the opportunity to interject with some ridiculous claim that it was just a fluke, but Bones only purses his lips and keeps his eyes fixed on the PADD.
"You know," Jim continues, with relish, "I'm beginning to think you can cure a rainy day."
"Dammit, Jim, don't say things like that," Bones groans, finally looking up to give Jim the full force of his disapproving eyebrows. "You're just inviting trouble."
Jim laughs and gives up the act, crowding in close to pen Bones against the biobed, one hand resting on its ledge, the other reaching up to squeeze Bones' bicep. "Superstition? From my Chief Medical Officer?" he teases. "I thought you were a man of science, Bones."
"Call it what you like, but I've learned it's best not to tempt fate," Bones grumbles.
They're close enough to share breath, but Bones makes no move to put any distance between them. Jim tips his face up, brimming with satisfaction and projecting it with every inch of his body. He flicks his eyes down to Bones' mouth, then back again, quirks his own into a smile that's equal parts invitation and a dare. Bones rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath -- Jim catches the words little brat -- but he leans in obligingly to press a kiss to Jim's lips, lingers just a bit too long for it to be completely chaste.
"Here's an idea," Jim says, nosing along Bones' jaw happily. "Why don't you bring your patient files along and work from the comfort and privacy of our own bed?"
"Mm, nice try," Bones says. He drags a warm hand slowly up Jim's spine, which is just unfair, stopping only to palm the back of Jim's neck and squeeze lightly. "I almost believed you were going to let me work for half a second, until you ended with 'our bed.'"
"I get tons of work done in our bed," Jim protests. "I've found it be a highly productive environment."
Bones tugs Jim off of him, gentle yet insistent, looks him in the eye as he delivers his counter-offer. "How about you go on back so I can finish up here without distraction, and I'll join you in fifteen minutes?"
"You strike a hard bargain, Doctor," Jim says, narrowing his eyes at Bones. "Alright, fine. I'll see you in exactly fifteen minutes."
"Don't time me--"
"I'll for sure be timing you," Jim says gravely. "And if you think that time I made a shipwide broadcast was bad..."
"Jim, that's not funny."
"I'm not laughing," Jim says, even as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. He sneaks in one last kiss before tearing himself away from Bones, dashing out of sick bay with the parting words, "Fourteen minutes and fifty-two seconds, and counting!"
---
Nine seconds after that, Bones has Jim naked and pinned to the bed beneath him. A new personal record.
---
"What, already? It's only taken them a whole damn year," Bones says sarcastically.
Jim tugs lightly on Bones' hair in reproof. "It's a hell of a lot quicker than it would have been if you hadn't delivered their new Teer. In a cave, I might add."
"And how is little Leonard James Akaar?" Jim can feel Bones' smiling against his chest.
"Good, as far as I can tell," Jim says, scratching lightly at Bones' scalp and drawing out a low hum of pleasure. "Eleen appointed a few counselors to help oversee the Capellans. Hard to juggle the responsibilities of a single mother and the Regent of the Ten Tribes, I suppose."
"If anyone could do it, she could," Bones murmurs.
Jim knows they're both remembering the events of Capella IV. What was originally meant to be a quiet diplomatic mission ended with them embroiled in a civil war, set off by the assassination of the Teer, the Capellan leader. The coup was orchestrated in part by a group of Klingons gunning for the topaline rights, and forced Jim, Bones and Spock to flee for their lives -- with the murdered Teer's very pregnant wife, Eleen, in tow. They holed themselves up in a cave for the better part of two days, where Bones delivered Eleen's baby with nothing but a field issue medkit and his own bare hands. Just in case that wasn't hard enough, there had been several unexpected complications during the labor. There is no question that both Eleen and her child would have been dead if Bones hadn't been there to see them through, as much as Bones likes to deny that he had done anything extraordinary. Eleen, at least, tacitly acknowledged this by naming her son after him -- and Jim, much to Spock's chagrin.
"Should we be asking for visitation rights? Regular comm updates on how he's doing?" Jim asks. "I bet his first word is 'Ma-Coy.'"
Jim is only half-teasing. If he's honest with himself, he's actually quite invested in the child's upbringing, and feels oddly responsible for his welfare. Jim might not have had a direct hand in Leonard James' birth, but he had fought to keep Eleen safe at the risk of his own life. He still remembers holding the newborn, swathed in Bones' medical tunic and so incongruously fragile against the harsh and unforgiving surroundings.
As if sensing Jim's thoughts, Bones says quietly, "I'm sure Eleen would oblige us, if we asked."
"Oblige you, you mean," Jim deflects. "I swear, Bones, if we had stayed a moment longer she would have proposed to you."
"Well, now, I'm already spoken for," Bones drawls, in a tone that clearly says he's not buying Jim's bullshit for a second.
"You weren't, though. Not then," Jim points out. They hadn't started their -- relationship sounds so tacky and inadequate but there's no other word for it, Jim supposes -- until a few months after Capella IV.
"Come on, Jim," Bones sighs. "You know I was gone for you long before then."
And see, that's the thing about Bones. He says shit like this like it's nothing, offhand and casual as though Jim shouldn't feel awed and humbled and thrilled, all at once. He calls himself just an old country doctor and accepts that loving Jim is simply an immutable fact of the universe. Jim wonders if it'll ever stop taking him by surprise. He hopes not; the day he takes Bones for granted is the day he stops deserving Bones at all.
Jim doesn't know how to say that, though, not while stone cold sober and already feeling too vulnerable for this conversation. Instead, he wraps his arm around Bones' shoulders and draws him in a little closer, tucking Bones' head beneath his chin. Bones brushes his lips against Jim's collarbone in wordless acknowledgement (I know, me too), before settling down to sleep. Jim drifts off to thoughts of a child who shares their names, who lives because they lived together, and the soft exhale of Bones' steady breaths against his skin.
end.