Okay, let’s talk about how Bones can’t seem to sleep without Jim in the bed next to him now. It’s a thing that started out slow. First, he just likes to sit and stand next to him. Always just hovering slightly behind him then pressed close enough that their shoulders touch. He’ll convince himself it’s for appearance sake. Always needing to look like a united front.
Then, it turned into near cuddling on the couch when they watched movies and Bones trying not to nod off. Jim would bite his lip to keep from laughing until he just threw caution to the wind and pulled Bones closer.
Now, they sleep comfortably together in a bed that’s a little smaller than they’d like but just big enough to wrap around one another.
And on the few occasions that Jim is out of the bed earlier than him Bones will shuffle out of the bedroom; hair mussed and lazy warm from bedsheets and collapse on top of him wherever he maybe. This time Jim happened to be sitting on the couch with coffee.
“‘S too early to be up, g’back ta sleep.” Bones mumbled into Jim’s neck, pressing closer and settling down and already halfway back to dreamland.
“Goodnight, Bones.” Is all Jim can say, sipping his coffee with a fond smile; his free hand carding through his boyfriend’s hair.
imagine jim in history of the federation class and he opens up his text book and almost vomits because there, in black and white, is his own emaciated body and swollen stomach, vulnerable and starving, chained to a wooden pole as he's whipped by kodos himself, clutching the pole for all he is worth as he's made as an example to those watching the torture.
oh n o
and he slams the textbook shut but it’s too late, the memories slam into him, stabbing him in the stomach and crawling up into his throat until he can taste blood and rot and he’s gagging, he can’t breathe, he has to get out–
then suddenly he’s outside, choking on the fresh air, and the photo from the textbook flashes at him every time he blinks. he can feel the whip against his back as it slices his skin, can remember the blood dripping hot into the dirt, taking scraps of flesh with it, marking the ground around him, marking him as weakweakweak
he stands in the morning sunlight with tears in his eyes and tries to force the bile down as he thinks of the days after the whipping, him huddled and starving in some filthy room, trying not to move because then the wounds would split open and he was already having a hard time ignoring the reek of his own skin decaying away
jim kirk stands there and wonders why he even came to starfleet, why he ever thought he could be better, why he ever dreamed of being like his father when he had let all those other children starve.
but that text post of "here, can you hold this? *gives you my hand*" iT'S TOTALLY JIM TO BONES OKAY
I just. GUH. Imagine this at the end of STID, Jim calling Bones over to his hospital bed and asking him to hold something before promptly smacking his hand down in Leonard’s palm.
Leonard stares down at their hands, eyebrows so high they’re disappearing into his hairline. “The hell is this?”
“It’s a present,” Jim says, lying back on his pillows and closing his eyes. He's smiling, the cocky bastard, his hand solid and warm in Leonard’s. “You can’t give presents back. It’s rude.”
“I damn well can’t sit here all shift holding your hand, kid."
"But you will,” Jim says, with enough confidence that even Leonard doubts himself. “Because you love me.”
And then he falls asleep, because he’s Jim fucking Kirk and the universe revolves around him and his asinine whims.
Leonard fumes silently for a few seconds, then sighs and gives in, reaching out with his free hand to pet absently through Jim’s hair. Or maybe it’s been Leonard himself that’s been revolving around him the entire time.
(omg you ship captain scones too) and iamgine jim wringing his hands to the point of pain and blood when he knocks on chris' door to ask for termination from starfleet and chris just stares at him, wondering what on earth this is about and jim just blurts out that he doesn't want to be a disappointment and that's he's useless and worthles, everything unfit for command and chris just gently slaps him upside the head and says' don't be stupid james' before tugging a tearful jim into a hug
and chris gives him this fatherly pep talk, including how no one can /ever/ call jim kirk a disappointment or useless or worthless without getting their ass kicked by chris pike and that counts for him, so jim better never say that again
chris pike being the one to find jim after a tarsus iv based history of the federation class and he props jim up against the sink, wipes his face with tissue before cupping jims shoulders in his hands and looking deep into the cadets wet eyes and saying; 'it's going to be alright james, i swear to god,' jIM JUST NODDING SHAKILY AND LETTING CHRIS LEAD HIM OUT OF THE BATHROOM TRUSTINGLY
ugh i h ate yo u
and it’s just want jim needs in that moment, but later he thinks about it, after chris has fed him and let him nap on the couch in his office, jim thinks that ‘oh god, he knows i’m weak and pathetic and i can’t handle this’ because all cadets have to go through these classes and the academy and he’s not going to make it, chris pike is gonna know he’s not cut out for command. he’s just disappointing someone else.
I like the thought of the whole sex god!Jim persona being a total lie. And while Jim definitely isn’t a virgin he is so far away from the sex god title that it’s hilarious the two are even in the same sentence.
It’s a little too bad that no one thought to inform Bones.
Having sex with Jim shockingly didn’t happen right away. There’d always been things that got in the way and after the third time blue balls were starting to set in.
One does not simply acquire Jim Kirk as a lover and NOT have sex with him. Bones has never been particularly hard up for sex but this was James T. Kirk. All glowing blue eyes and delicate blond brows, spit slick lips stained red where blunt teeth worked them over in worry, anger, or concentration.
When they finally do get down to the good stuff Bones is…surprised to say the least.
It’s not that Jim is bad at sex it’s more that…well.. Jim had suggested the blow job in everything but words. Tugging at Bones’ pants and briefs following them on the way down.
Jim’s mouth is on him faster than he can blink; everything is happening to fast. His hand is awkward and dry when it closes around his cock and the angle is less than favorable but that’s okay because there only needs to be a little adjusting and things will be great. Except it isn’t getting any better and Jim’s chapped lips are mashing into his hard enough that his lip splits under the assault and blood seeps up from the wound.
Bones yelps when is cock is gripped as if Jim is trying to wring water out of a sponge and his free hand is dragging — more like swatting — everywhere over Bones’ body that can be reached. It just sooo bad.
And all Jim can say is the same phrase over and over like a bad porno. “You like that? You like what I do to you, Bones, baby?”
If Jim were looking he’d have seen the plain horrified look slapped across his boyfriend’s face. Because really, do people actually say things like that outside of porn?! Bones knows it’s unseemly to laugh during sex without prompting but the situation simply called for it. Gotta laugh to keep from crying, right?
So their first time was pretty bad but after a conversation and coaching things just get better and better…
but imagine that bones writes resignation letters everytime jim is almost killed/almost died and jim finds them and he thinks that bones wants to leave him and it guts him because jim's in total love with bones and wants to marry him. (he even has the ring picked out) (❁´◡`❁)
hahahahah kay why
jim feels like someone took a sledgehammer to his heart. he can feel every piece break like fragile glass. the shards tinkle as they fall and it’s ironic that what is making such a beautiful sound is causing him so much pain. the jagged fragments cut into his lungs. he feels them dig a little deeper every time he tries to take a breath; it hurts like nothing he’s ever known before.
let’s talk about academy era leonard mccoy and how good he probably looks on the lazier days when he’s dressed in an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt and his hair is still all ruffled from sleep as he reads through his notes for class
or mccoy in the gym with the muscles in his legs and arms and back all tensed and sweat dripping down his neck and his shorts just slightly too low on his hips
or in his cadet reds which of course fit just right with his hair all combed back and neat and how he probably pretends he hates wearing the uniform except it also feels kinda nice
let’s talk about how jim probably had trouble not making out with his hot doctor best friend 24/7 (not that len would have complained if that were the case)
(these are just too cute omg hope) but after an away mission where sulu was almost hurt and chekov is almost in tears, sick from worry, sulu presses him gently against the wall, tucking chekovs head beneath his chin and just holding him as chekov tries to calm himself, soaking in the love that sulu gives him freely and without regret
and kay joins the party
wait shit that’s fucking illegal how can you do this to me
and chekov just grasps at sulu’s shirt, burying his face in his shoulder whispering threats that if he ever does that again he will not live to see another day but also whispering soft thankful prayers that he came back safe and they don’t let go of each other for some time
jim laughing wetly andthinking chris is just joking - until he hears that chris overheard a few civilian patrons in the pub across town calling jim 'daddys little toy' and chris knocked out a grown man several inches taller and with several weight classes on him. jim gapes at him. chris smirks haughtily and pats jim on the shoulder consolingly.
no but why do you think all those cadets came to a halt in that bar when chris pike whistled? he’s a genuine hard ass. he’s not just captain pike, superior officer, he’s respected because he’s smart and dangerous if you cross him and his own, so don’T son
but yancy being even more possessive than usual after a long drift and he'll be just behind raleigh, glaring at anyone who even thinks about talking to raleigh. raleigh rolls his eyes but his blush says he likes it.
but imagine Raleigh actually trying to be a normal person and have normal, casual convos with other normal humans but finds that his incredibly inhumanly possessive post-drift boyfriend I making his life so goddamn hard.
all that seems to be in his vocabulary is brood, loom, hover, and growl.
Raleigh’s face is reddening by the second after Yancy shuffled between him and Mako at dinner. and mako being he sweet and thrice blessed patient person only smiles, shakes her head and states she’ll see them both later.
“oh, my god, seriously? are we seriously doing this right now?” Raleigh would hiss into his food, elbowing his boyfriend but Yancy is much more content to wind an arm around Raleigh, pulling him closer, and setting his chin on the other’s shouler.
While everyone on Tarsus was in awe of the governor’s rhetoric, Jim was weary of the man’s predatory smile and the way he pressed his fingers, nails always claw sharp, into Jim’s shoulder and said, “I’m so proud of you, my boy.” The words were there, but they were laced with venom, reptile like the way his eyes slithered over the crowd, not seeing them as people at all.
But Kodos didn’t have a tattoo. He had long lines gouged into his left arm and a pockmarked face, but he didn’t have the soul mate marking.
Lenore said he had taken a knife to them after her mother died and even then, she wasn’t sure the tattoos were real.
Like the reverence that was given to matched soul mates, there was a great unease about those who had no markings. There was nothing worse than a soul without a pair. It spoke to some inherent evil that fate couldn’t even save.
Jim knew this. Like he knew that the numbers and caduceus was a key on the map of his soul to his other half. That person was out there and waiting.
And he fought, teeth biting at the hands that held him down, knees and elbows hitting flesh and bone as they tried to restrain him. Kodos hated the soul markings on others. Tried to cut them out of his special kids.
“They’re a weakness, Jimmy.” His voice sounded like the gravel in the driveway at Iowa, crunchy and sharp. “I’ll show you that you don’t need them.”
But he never got more than a light scratch over the Caduceus. A scar on a scar. It burned, hurting worse than any other torture Kodos could come up with.
And years later, when his soulmate would examine the tattoos, kissing around them and down them, and gently healing with every touch of the lips, Jim could almost forget about that pain.
But as others screamed and were examined, Kodos’ special 9 they were called, Jim hated his tattoos and the soulmate. He hated this person for even existing and as the first bites of bitterness were sown, he them away.
Jim didn’t realize that the marks on a boy in Georgia were burning just as much, searing and spiking until he was sure he couldn’t take it anymore. And he wished for them to stop too.
Neither knew what the wishing could do. But when they were at the ends of their ropes—one in a shuttle from Georgia after a bitter divorce, the other just out of prison — when the marks had faded like some soul markings are wont to do after age and the lack of hope, the tattoos flared again. And they wished for a sign.
Continuation of my Soulmate Tattoo AU.
post tarsus jim spending hours and hours outside, wandering for miles away from his house, because the crush of leaves and the smell of grass and the wind against his skin are the only things that make the growling razor edged beast tarsus stitched onto his back go quiet, if only for a while
(tarsus stank of rot; he chokes on it, still, at dinner)
he lies on his back in empty fields until the stars are bright and wonders how many of the other kids are seeing this, too.