Chapter Text
When Leonard steps into the Zeta Beta Zeta sorority house for the first time, he feels like he’s been transported to an alternate dimension. Sure, he didn’t expect it to be in disrepair like KT, but the contrast is still a shock to his system. There’s a grand staircase, cat statues staring at him from every flat surface, and an amount of pink that makes him feel like he’s put on literal rose-colored glasses. He stares around in growing horror, and it clicks in his mind that the whole place is the worst possible amalgam of his grandma’s house and Malibu Barbie.
Uhura comes regally down the staircase, and Leonard suddenly feels like he’s going to be forced to escort her to a royal ball. Which is a far cry from reality: he’s fresh off a twelve-hour shift and only came because she sent him a cryptic text. And it’s rapidly dawning on him that he’s going to regret it.
“Thanks for dropping by,” she says.
Then he notices several girls staring at him from the next room. It’s a dining room, though there’s so much seating that it looks more like a banquet hall. One of the long tables is covered in baskets, all of them in some stage of being filled with candy and other small items.
“Yeah,” he says brusquely, leveling a glare at the nearest girl gaping at him. Maybe he’d find this whole thing funny under normal circumstances — or, at least, if Jim were here — but he’s exhausted. He can’t even summon a sarcastic ‘my lady’ — not while he’s being treated like a goddamn spectacle, anyway.
“I heard something from Christine yesterday.”
He just makes a noncommittal noise in his throat; even without that twinkle in her eyes, he’d know exactly what she heard from Christine. After all, he’d holed up at the bar with her and Geoff last weekend and finally admitted that he’s officially dating Jim now. Just the thought almost makes him smile. Sure, it’s been a week since it happened, but he’s still embarrassingly giddy about it.
Uhura pulls him over to the dining-room-slash-basket-making area, shooing a few girls out in the process. Soon they’re all alone in the room, and he leans down to examine the closest basket. “What the hell is all this?” he asks, gingerly picking up a cellophane bag of chocolate-covered almonds.
“Crush baskets,” she says, in a tone that implies that it should be obvious.
He looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. “That s’posed to mean something to me?”
“Each girl anonymously sends a basket to her crush with an invitation to our Crush Party. Then, at the party—”
“Yeah, I think I get it now,” he interrupts. “You girls must have a lot of time on your hands.”
“It is almost Valentine’s Day.”
“I’ve got a feeling your house is always ready for it.” He glances around, unimpressed. “What’s this about, anyway, Nyota? All this pink is hurting my eyes.”
She starts fluffing the transparent pink covering on one of the only completed baskets in the room. “Well, you’re dating Jim now — for some reason—” She breaks off, looking up at him. “You know you could go better than him, right?”
Leonard raises his eyebrows, trying to figure out how serious she is. “No one’s better than Jim. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to be in KT forever.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
“Nyota.”
“I just think we could make both Jim and Spock a lot happier, y’know, if we tried to mend some fences.”
“I don’t think Jim minds his fences being broken,” he says dryly. “Literally or figuratively.” He wants to protect Jim’s privacy, even though he’s more than sure she’s right.
She frowns at him, but she doesn’t push it. He feels his eyes narrow slightly, and he’s got a feeling that she’s smart enough to know pushing him would have the opposite effect. It doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty. He looks down, eyes going back to the crush baskets.
And realizes something.
He crushes a scrap of pink ribbon in his hand. “And how many of these crush baskets are for my boyfriend, anyway?”
Her mouth thins, but he doesn’t miss the way her gaze darts to a small table off to the side, overflowing with at least ten baskets. He can feel the blood draining out of his face, and he takes a few steps over to it. The baskets don’t look any more personalized than the others, but he glares back at Uhura.
“All these?” he asks.
“You think I want this? I don’t. I don’t encourage any fraternizing with KT in the first place, let alone with a guy who, uh—” she breaks off mid-rant, then smiles at him sheepishly. “With a guy who took two and a half years to get into a relationship.”
He knows that certainly wasn’t supposed to be the end of her speech. “Well, he’s allergic to most fruit,” he snaps. “And nuts. All these baskets are fucking death traps waiting to happen. If they’re going to go after him, at least do a little research, goddammit.”
“What can I say?” she asks, putting a light hand on his shoulder to propel him towards the door. “Some people can’t resist a pretty face. Give them a few weeks and maybe that glare of yours will scare them off.” She pauses at the door, and he just rolls his eyes at her. “But think about what I said, Leonard. The things Spock did — they don’t need to be held against him forever, right?”
Leonard nods slowly. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Nyota. But I’ll mention it.”
She gives him a small smile, but then the approach of her fellow ZBZ’s makes the expression burst into a huge, practiced smile. Leonard isn’t sure why, but it cuts him through with sadness. He slips out the door and makes the short walk back to KT. For the first time, that weed-hazed disarray feels like nothing but home.
“Well, they’re having casino night next weekend, right?” Jim asks, leaning his elbows onto the coffee table. As usual, Keenser is immersed in a video game while Scotty and Pike are passing a joint between them. KT is under Jim’s orders to lay low, since it’s once again Omega Chi’s turn to retaliate.
“Yeah,” Sulu says. Jim glances up at him, glad Sulu seems to be game again. Sure, no one was too happy about Sulu’s defection at first, but none of the guys are prone to holding grudges. Between Sulu finally turning against Omega Chi and Ben spending plenty of time at KT now, everyone has moved past it. Besides, KT has a pretty short memory, and a week would be a long time to stay mad at a brother.
“How does a person ruin a casino night?” Pike asks, voice slower than usual.
“Steal all their money,” Cupcake says.
“Something more than money,” Jim says, an idea coming to him. He sits up straight, looking excitedly at the guys around the coffee table. “And we can kill two birds with one stone.”
Scotty looks at him, eyebrows raising. “Go on, Cap.”
“Infiltrate the party and steal all their alcohol,” Jim says, feeling extra brilliant now that he’s got the full picture of KT’s funds — or, more accurately, their lack of funds. God knows how much they could save with a few weeks’ worth of free liquor.
“All of it?” Cupcake asks in awe.
“Yes.”
“It’d be funny to replace the bottles with our empties full of, like, water and pop,” Scotty says musingly. He kicks an empty vodka bottle, sending it spinning off towards the entryway. It smacks against the front door but, luckily, doesn’t break. The bottle goes spinning off again when the door bursts open.
Bones walks in, eyes on the still-rotating vodka bottle, eyebrow immediately shooting up. Jim jumps off the ground like a reflex, Bones’s grumpy expression doing nothing to scare him off. When Jim makes it over to him, Bones is pulling off his snow-dusted hat off with a disgusted look on his face. But he visibly softens when he notices Jim, and he leans in for Jim to kiss him.
Jim expects a — literally — cold kiss, but Bones is warm. “Shouldn’t you be cold?” Jim asks, patting his face in confusion. “It’s, like, ten degrees out.”
Bones quirks an eyebrow. “Nothing gets by you, huh? I just came from ZBZ.”
“Why?”
Bones shrugs noncommittally, gaze sliding over to the living room full of guys. The audience is enough to keep Jim from pressing the matter, though he’s dying of curiosity. And, to be honest, a little terrified of what half those girls might have to say about him.
“We should steal their jello shots, too,” Sulu is saying. “I love those things.”
“And replace them with what?” Cupcake asks.
“We could make jello if we really wanted to,” Scotty says with exaggerated slowness.
“Wouldn’t that, like, defeat the purpose?”
“You know you can make jello with water, right?”
Cupcake stares blankly back at Scotty, and Jim bursts out laughing. After a second of shock, Bones starts shaking with laughter, too. In the midst of the chaos erupting around the room, Jim grabs Bones’s arm and starts tugging him up the stairs.
“Maybe Pike should teach a Cooking 101 class before he leaves,” Bones says, dropping his backpack onto the desk chair.
“Yeah, right. And have to replace the stove in a week? It’s best the guys just think it’s a storage room for beer and liquor.”
Bones lets out a laugh, then he starts unpacking his backpack.
Jim sits on the foot of the bed and gazes at him, realizing for the hundredth time that he’s not sure he’ll ever be tired of being here with Bones — being anywhere with Bones. Before he can get too distracted, he asks, “Why were you at ZBZ?”
Bones looks over at him, eyebrow raising. “Got any guesses?” he asks dryly.
Jim wracks his brain for a minute — but it doesn’t take any effort at all for about a million nightmare scenarios to surface. He knows Uhura’s style, though, and it’s highly unlikely she’d line up a firing squad of his one night stands. At worst, she might’ve teased Bones for having bad taste or something.
Then it occurs to him: “She mentioned Spock, didn’t she?”
“You got it in one,” he says, his expression smoothing out until he looks sympathetic. Suddenly his smokescreen downstairs makes sense — Bones was worried about how Jim would react.
Jim just rolls his eyes. “The second I’m in a relationship, she pulls this. Did you tell her you’ve already been trying to talk sense into me?”
“We got distracted,” Bones says, eyebrow lifting again. “I heard about crush baskets.”
“What about them?”
“I dunno, that you get a thousand of them?”
Jim can see the real jealousy shining through on Bones’s face, and he can’t help but be relieved that he didn’t hear any horror stories about him. Not to mention the fact that it’s a little flattering. “Not quite a thousand,” Jim says with a smirk, reaching out his hand for Bones.
“Oh, great,” Bones says petulantly, but he goes over to Jim anyway. He doesn’t sit down, but he just stands in front, running his other hand through Jim’s hair.
Jim lets out a laugh. “What? I just leave them here in the living room for the rest of the guys to scavenge through.”
“You don’t take anything?”
“Well, I like those dark chocolate salted caramels,” he admits, eyes glazing over. “When are they bringing ‘em over, anyway?”
“Jim.”
“What? Who doesn’t like free food?” Jim asks, but he just stands up abruptly and wraps his arms around Bones’s waist. “A crush basket’s never worked on me before, so it certainly won’t now. Are you really worried?”
Bones shakes his head. “Just annoyed that you’re so goddamn hot. And have so many fucking allergies.”
Jim laughs and tilts Bones’s head for a kiss.
Jim’s taking advantage of the relative quiet of the early afternoon to look through the house bills for the month. He’s holed up at the kitchen table, trying to sift through the calculus of fixed fees and variable rates on the water bill. There’s the sounds of a video game and talking from the living room, but it’s just the right amount of noise.
He doesn’t think much of it when Chekov slams open the back door. Jim glances up, immediately thrown off at the sight of him looking around frantically. It’s even worse when their eyes meet, and Chekov gives a small gasp. Not exactly comforting.
“Captain,” Chekov says, sprinting over. Jim can see the genuine horror on his face. He starts gesturing violently at the window to the back of the house. “Shed — fire—”
Jim drops his pen and shoots to his feet. “Call 911,” he barks out before bolting to the back door.
Sure enough, a funnel of dark smoke is already coming off the shed. Jim looks around rapidly to confirm what he already knows — that there aren’t any buildings close enough for there to be a risk of the fire spreading. It’s just an old, busted-up shed near the back of the overgrown lawn. There’s nothing in it but decades’ worth of useless shit and an ancient lawnmower kept working only by Jim and Scotty’s collective efforts.
How the hell is this even possible?
Jim shudders against the wind as he approaches the structure slowly. He’s no expert, but the fire looks too big already to be stopped by Jim’s inexpert handling. Not to mention the fact that the hose is put away for the winter, anyway. He hears someone coming out of the house behind him, but before he can turn around, he stands on his toes to peer into the shed window.
There’s something inside.
Jim leans even closer, trying to make out the shape through the dark smoke. He tries to tell himself that it’s probably just an old tarp or something, but when he’s nearly touching the surprisingly-not-busted glass, he can see.
It’s not something — it’s someone.
And they’re not moving.
“Fuck,” Jim says, and runs to the shed door without another thought. He’s got enough mental capacity to tug his sweatshirt up to cover his mouth before he opens the door, but it feels like it barely helps when a rush of heat and dark smoke hits him in the face. Coughing, he crouches down and creeps into the shed. It’s always been a graveyard of old party decorations, and Jim’s never seen it look quite so much like a horror movie. Now that he’s here, he can tell that the fire is coming from the back corner, farthest away from him.
Fortunately.
Jim rushes forward as carefully and low as possible, weaving his way through old lawn chairs and pink plastic flamingos destined to melt into a puddle in about five minutes. He tries to get as close to the window as he can, assuming that it must be Sulu trapped in here. God even fucking knows what Sulu gets up to with his botany experiments — especially in the dead of winter.
He has to stop for a coughing fit. His lungs are burning in protest, not to mention his skin. Still, he forces himself forward without even considering going backwards. Just as he’s inwardly cursing Sulu to the fires of hell and back — fire being at the forefront of Jim’s thoughts — he finally gets to the black-haired person on the ground. He goes down to his knees to inelegantly roll the body over.
Not Sulu.
Spock.
Confusion flashes through his mind, but he doesn’t have the time. Every cell in his body wants to be out of this fucking oven. He sees something overhead and can’t help but glance up. Even through the smoke, he can see fire starting to trace along the roof beams. It’s only a matter of minutes before this whole place comes crashing down.
He takes a labored breath, realizing he’s light-headed. Even though the front door is all of six feet away, he knows he won’t be able to make it back. Instead, he crouches more securely on the ground and kicks one foot against the wall. When he finds a board that seems loose, he gives another good kick, busting a hole through. He wishes he could suck in some clean air, but he goes back to Spock. When he turns back, he’s at least relieved to see hands grabbing at the adjacent board, yanking it apart.
Helping him.
“Cap?” Scottys calls from outside. “Jim!”
Jim grabs Spock’s shoulders and pulls him towards the opening. The fire is everywhere now, and Spock is fucking heavy, especially when Jim hasn’t had a real breath in a couple minutes. He manages to haul Spock close enough, and then he calls, “Pull him out!”
He lets out a sigh at the sight of Spock being pulled through safely, but he can’t help but look up at a very distinct crackling noise. Jim moves closer to the hole unconsciously, even as he tries to see what’s happening through the thick smoke.
Someone grabs him just as a beam from the roof swings down.
The door of the break room slams open. Leonard looks up from his coffee, startled — and it isn’t helped when Christine looks at him with wide eyes. Calm, cool Christine, staring at him with some sort of preemptive pity. A sickening feeling takes over Leonard’s chest, not to mention a dizzying sense of deja vu.
“He’s going to be fine,” Christine says.
Incomprehensibly.
“What the hell does that mean?” he snaps, frustrated and terrified. He stands up, and she grabs his arm in a vice-like grip. From this close, he can see that her eyes are shining with tears. He barely manages a gruff, “Christine.”
“There was an accident at KT. They brought Jim in.”
Fuck.
He’s unsteady on his feet, can barely feel her reassuring touch on his arm. His brain latches onto one thing and one thing only: her first words to him. Jim is going to be fine. It doesn’t help a goddamn bit. “Where is he?” Leonard snaps.
She keeps hold of him as she leads him through the hospital. He follows after her blindly, not paying a bit of attention to their surroundings. He just listens to her explain the situation: the fire that resulted in Jim and Spock being brought in immediately. Jim’s been on pure oxygen ever since, with just some minor burns. Spock’s injuries are worse, but still not nearly as severe as they could be. The last Christine heard was that Spock may need to be intubated.
Christine stops outside a hospital room, and it takes Leonard a second too long to realize they’ve arrived. With just one grateful nod at Christine, Leonard goes inside. One of the doctors is there, and Jim’s got an oxygen mask over his face. Just Jim’s eyes go to Leonard, and Leonard can’t do anything but rush over to him. He looks so fucking small, lying there like that.
Leonard’s a trained doctor — well, partially trained, anyway — but he can’t do anything but stand there shaking.
“Twenty more minutes,” the doctor says. “We’re just flushing the CO out. He’ll be fine.”
Leonard nods at him. He can’t look anywhere but Jim, whose eyes have gone wide as if he wants to say something. Leonard could never have envisioned him like this — his perfect, obnoxious, dynamic Jim, lying here helpless.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Leonard says, gripping Jim’s hand tightly. Jim gives one weak but firm tug on Leonard’s hand, and Leonard sees the request in those blue eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he adds softly. “Just a few more minutes and you can be off that thing, alright?”
Jim closes his eyes, and Leonard leans down to press his lips against Jim’s hand.
Jim wakes up feeling groggy. He’d gotten off oxygen pretty quickly, but everything had flashed by in a quick blur before he fell asleep. He’s got a feeling he might never have been able to relax enough to sleep, if it weren’t for Bones’s presence.
Jim is suddenly and irrationally panicked — the fact embarrassingly clear by the fucking heartbeat monitor immediately beeping faster. He looks around the darkened hospital room. His panic only lasts a few seconds, though, because he quickly notices Bones sitting on a chair pulled next to the bed, his feet propped up by Jim’s legs. Despite the fact that he’s still groggy and feels like he deep-throated a fire poker, he can’t stop the rush of affection for Bones. He reaches out a hand for Bones’s leg, giving it a soft squeeze.
Bones starts, legs flying off the bed as he snaps straight up in the chair. Jim can’t help but let out a quiet but painful chuckle, while Bones jumps to his feet and looms over him. “You should be asleep,” he says, looking at Jim’s vitals.
“Is Spock—?” Jim asks, question dying in his throat. He knows rationally that Spock must be okay, but the memory of hauling his lifeless body out of the flames is too fresh.
“He’s fine. ‘Bout the same as you, last I checked. How are you feeling?”
“Never better.”
Bones steps away for a second to flick on the light, and then looks back at him with one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, nearly being burned alive seems real pleasant.”
“A once-in-a-lifetime experience,” Jim says, inadvertently letting out a cough. His throat feels like hell, and talking isn’t helping. “Hopefully,” he adds.
“Better be. You scared the hell outta me, kid.”
“I scared myself plenty, too.” Jim reaches out for Bones’s hand and holds on tight. “Sorry, Bones.”
Bones lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “Just don’t do it again.”
“No promises,” he says quietly. He glances towards the pitch-darkness in the gap between the curtains. “You didn’t have to stay all night, y’know. I’ve got a feeling it’s not visiting hours anymore.”
Bones rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Jim breaks into a grin. For some reason, this is more comforting than anything — he thinks sometime in the pain and restless sleep of last night, he’d been afraid Bones would walk out on him. Go find someone less fucking complicated.
“I should go find a nurse,” Bones says, looking at his vitals again. “You need painkillers. And water — well, I can get that.”
Jim just grips his hand harder, careful of the IV as he uses his other hand to raise the bed into a sitting position. “I need you to do me a favor,” he says.
“The only thing you should be worrying about is sleep, alright?”
“C’mon, I just wanna talk to Spock.”
His face softens. “Darlin’, all that can wait till morning.”
“Bones, please? You know which room he’s in, right?”
“Hard to know for sure,” Bones says dryly, gaze sliding to one of the walls of the hospital room.
“Next door?” Jim guesses. When Bones turns back to him with a half-hearted scowl, Jim just grins back incorrigibly. Earning a dramatic, defeated sigh.
Under Jim’s recommendation, Bones goes out first to scope out the situation. He comes back with water and won’t let Jim move a muscle until he drinks all of it.
“He awake?” Jim asks between gulps.
Bones nods. “You sure you’re feeling up for it?” Bones asks, holding onto his shoulder. “If you make yourself worse, so help me God—”
“Yes, Bones,” Jim interrupts, shoving the empty cup back into his hand.
Bones makes a disapproving noise but doesn’t argue. “Don’t even think about disconnecting the IV. It’s got wheels for a reason.”
“Sure, Bones,” Jim sighs, then he swings his legs over to stand up. Bones reaches out, and Jim would never admit that he’s glad to have the help. Sure, the worst of the pain is in his throat, but he can feel the impact in his whole body. Bones just keeps hold of him, and Jim melts into him. “God, I love you,” Jim says, basking in how warm and comfortable he feels.
Bones holds him back tightly, pressing kisses all over the side of his face. Jim turns and meets his lips. Once, twice, and then Jim pulls back, taking an unsteady but independent step away — with the help of the IV pole, that is. Bones rolls his eyes, face a little flushed, but trails after him into the hallway. He looks ready to rush in, but Jim just gives him a nod and then slips into Spock’s room.
The lights are on, and Spock immediately looks up at him with wide eyes.
“Hey,” Jim says, walking forward slowly. Awkwardly.
Spock’s hair is tangled, he’s wearing the standard-issue crumpled hospital gown, IV sticking out of his arm. He looks a lot less like Jim’s mortal enemy and a hell of a lot more like his old best friend. It would be so easy for Jim’s memory to transport them back to sitting around campfires and staying up late whispering between bunk beds.
“You okay?” Jim manages.
“Yes,” Spock says, with his usual formality. “Are you?”
Jim nods, that stilted, stifling feeling coming over him. Despite all their history, it’s hard to see past the last two and a half years. He didn’t let himself remember for so long. “What the hell happened?” he finds himself saying instead. He walks the rest of the way to Spock’s bed, sitting down gingerly at the end — knowing Bones would want him to relax as much as possible.
“I saw Nero going towards Kappa Tau and followed him,” Spock says, with all the expressiveness of a deposition. “I realize now that may have been his intent. I followed him into the shed, only to discover he had left an explosive to go off. And that is… the last I remember. I believe he wanted to frame me. He has not been happy with me lately. To say the least.”
“Not happy with you? Why?”
“In December, I may have suggested that the administration look into Omega Chi’s grade point average. An artificially elevated grade point average.”
Jim’s eyes widen. “Jesus, okay. But, still, Spock — he tried to burn you alive?”
Spock shakes his head. “I would have had adequate time to exit, were I not hit directly. It is far more likely that his intent was to frame me.”
“What a fucking—”
“You saved me, Jim,” Spock interrupts, tone suddenly very firm.
Jim rolls his eyes, nudging his blanket-covered legs playfully. “I’m sorry, Spock.”
Spock blinks, head tilting to the side. “That is precisely the opposite—” He breaks off, frowning, and continues, “There is nothing for you to—”
“Yes, there is,” Jim interrupts — and, sure, it took a near-death experience, but maybe it can be just as simple as wanting his friend back. “I’m sure I took plenty of shit out on you over the years, but I don’t wanna be pissed off anymore, Spock. I want you to be part of my life again. We can still be friends, right?”
“I would like that as well,” Spock says solemnly. Then there’s the start of a smile on Spock’s face, and Jim grins back. “Perhaps I should not ask, but… what made you change your mind?”
Jim shrugs. “I’m tired of living in the past — none of it was as good as right now, anyway.”
Spock nods. “Some of the past was more than adequate,” Spock says, and Jim laughs. A ringing endorsement. “In the present, we belong to warring fraternities.”
“I’ve got a feeling a truce will be called soon enough.”
One of Spock’s eyebrows lifts slightly, but he leans back in bed. Jim realizes suddenly that he looks exhausted. Which, he thinks a second later, makes all the sense in the world, considering it’s four in the morning and Spock came much closer to death yesterday than Jim did.
“Go back to sleep,” Jim says, using his IV pole to hoist himself up.
Spock nods vaguely, eyes already shutting. “I am glad you came,” he says, so softly Jim thinks he may have heard wrong.
When Jim goes out the door, Bones is waiting for him, a question in his eyes. Jim smiles at him and nods, which has Bones smiling back. Spock’s tiredness must’ve been contagious, because Jim suddenly feels like he could pass out right here in the hallway. He grabs onto Bones, who pulls Jim’s arm securely around his shoulders. Between Bones and the IV pole, Jim feels steady enough.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?” Bones grumbles, half-dragging him back to his room. “I’m a doctor, goddammit. You’re supposed to listen to me.”
“You’re just my med student boyfriend — don’t be so dramatic,” Jim says, wrapping both arms around Bones the second they shut the door to his room. He hugs Bones tightly, not realizing he was shaking until Bones hugs him back and makes him feel steady again. “Thanks,” Jim whispers softly, knowing the word is as inadequate as it is all-encompassing.
When Jim got back from the hospital the next day, Bones made it his mission to keep everyone from being too crazy around Jim — enforcing his own visiting hours and a one-person-at-a-time limit. Maybe bodyguard Bones wearing his boyfriend’s Midwest is Best sweatshirt wouldn’t have seemed threatening under normal circumstances, but the combination of Bones’s trademark scowl and genuine worry were more than enough. And Jim honestly didn’t mind — he was still so tired that even holding a conversation with one person was tiring.
But once Jim goes back to class on Monday, all bets are off. Nero’s expulsion is officially declared on Wednesday, closely followed by rumors of a potential arrest — to an impromptu party at KT, with an official one declared for Saturday — and it’s icing on the cake, both for Jim’s mental state and the rumor mill. Sure enough, by the time Friday rolls around, the story of Jim’s little near-death experience has been passed around campus so much that Jim’s already-potent reputation has gone from hot-but-douchey-frat-bro to something that may actually stand the test of time.
Not that Jim particularly cares. He’s got everything he needs already — fraternity brothers who pulled off a heist of Omega Chi’s liquor stash as their final prank, grades that have somehow managed not to slip, and the best fucking boyfriend in the world.
On Saturday morning, Jim goes downstairs with the intent to make coffee to try to lure Bones awake. Just as he’s contemplating whether going to the on-campus Starbucks would take less time than cleaning the coffee pot, he notices Pike out back.
Loading his car.
Jim stands staring through the kitchen window, watching light snow fall around Pike as he unceremoniously throws all his shit into the back of his truck. Maybe two weeks ago, Jim would’ve just stomped upstairs and willfully ignored this, but right now, it finally washes over him that this is truly the end of an era.
But something’s changed, and there’s not the same sting anymore.
Jim grabs the nearest coat from a hook — the intense whiff of weed indicates it’s probably Scotty’s — and slips on shoes before heading out the back door. He feels like a dick when Pike turns to him with a guarded look, as though he may have to gear up for a fight.
“Leaving in the dead of night?” Jim asks lightly, walking over to his truck.
Pike cracks a smile. “It’s nine AM.”
“Same thing.”
“I was going to go find you before I left.”
“So today’s the day, huh?” Jim asks, circling around Pike to look at his stuff — a lifetime’s worth, it feels like — before leaning against the truck bed. He hadn’t realized he stopped being mad about Pike until now. It’s nice to look at him and not be pissed off — to just feel nostalgia for all those memories they’ve had the last three years. The crazy, great memories. Pike’s one of the first people who changed his life for the better.
And Jim’s going to miss him like hell.
Pike tosses one last crammed duffle bag into the truck and then turns to Jim solemnly. “Well, you’re back to being as energetic as ever. I think it’s high time for me to go.”
Jim just stares at him for a second, then he nods. Pike is standing there, all ready to go, bracketed in front of the practically derelict KT in Jim’s vision. For just a second, Jim feels like a dumb freshman kid again, coming up to this house and Pike in wonder, not seeing a single flaw. He’s spent a lot of time frozen at that very moment.
But he feels different now. Better. And not just because he’s got a boyfriend he’s crazy about waiting for him upstairs. No, he thinks this might just be part of growing up. The idea of Pike leaving doesn’t spiral Jim into anxiety anymore like it did that first day — but it still sucks.
“I’ve been kind of a dick to you the last few weeks,” Jim admits. “I really would’ve wanted you here forever, you know?”
“It’s okay, Jim. We had a hell of a lot of fun, didn’t we?”
“We did,” Jim agrees, grinning. “You’ll come back once in a while, right? Even law school gets days off, right?”
Pike laughs. “Yeah, I’ll be back. I’m sure I’ll miss this place like hell when I leave.”
“We’ll miss you, too.” Jim reaches out and yanks Pike in for a hug. Pike hugs him back hard, patting him on the back. When Jim lets go, he adds, “Good luck with everything. I mean it this time.”
“You need it more than I do,” Pike says with a chuckle. “Keep ‘em in line. You’re already a great president.”
“You’re gonna miss the party tonight, y’know.”
“I’ve had enough parties for a lifetime. A couple of them, honestly.”
“Glad I’m not that boring.” Jim looks at Pike’s truck, and he knows he’s gotta say something, otherwise they’ll stand here saying goodbye for the next twenty minutes. “Well, have a good drive.”
“See you, Jim,” he says, opening his car door.
“Thanks for everything, Chris,” Jim says, taking a step away from the truck. He wishes he had all the time in the world to find the right words, but that will have to do.
As Pike drives away, Jim sits down on the hard, cold back stairs. He stares out at the world empty of everyone but him, feeling like he can still hear the reverberations of Pike’s truck tires.
A few minutes later, he goes back upstairs to his room. Bones shifts onto his side, opening one bleary eye to look at him. “No coffee?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
“Let’s just go back to sleep for a while,” Jim says, slipping in next to him. He throws an arm over Bones, pulling him in closer. Bones nuzzles into Jim’s chest, too tired to notice anything different about him. But there’s something comforting in that, too, and Jim can’t help but smile as he closes his eyes.
“Bones,” Jim says, bursting into their room, “the party’s started.” He’s got two blue solo cups of whiskey balanced precariously in one hand — having decided not to subject Bones to more shitty beer tonight — so he’s looking down as he kicks the door shut behind him.
“Does it ever stop?” Bones asks, voice sounding absent. When Jim looks up, Bones is sitting in bed, staring down at a sheet of paper.
A very familiar sheet of paper.
Jim blinks, more startled than he should be. “You know what they say about eavesdroppers,” Jim says, keeping his voice light as he finishes walking over. He extends Bones’s cup of whiskey to him. Jim only then realizes that he’s got no idea what anyone has to say about eavesdroppers, but it seems like the sort of thing Bones probably knows.
Bones takes the cup with a soft smile, not looking ready to run away in terror like Jim was sort of thinking might happen. “Is this what I think it is?”
Jim grabs the sheet of paper but doesn’t bother looking at it. Instead, he just tosses it back towards the desk, where it flutters uselessly to the ground about halfway there. “You know I don’t like forms,” Jim says, flushing slightly. He takes a gulp of whiskey, watching through narrowed eyes as Bones starts to smirk at him.
“You’re declaring a major,” Bones says, breaking into a grin.
Jim rolls his eyes. “Anyone can declare a major, Bones. Who cares?”
“Jim, come on. Chemistry?”
“It’s just — I’m still not one hundred percent sure. I switched a class around, so I’ll know by the end of the semester at the latest.”
“Won’t this make you a ticking time bomb for graduating someday?” Bones asks, concealing another smirk by taking a drink.
And there it is.
Jim spends another second contemplating playing it off — oh, I can always change next semester or, it had to happen sooner or later. Then he remembers the small fact that he almost died a week ago, and Bones stayed by his side the whole time. This should be nothing in comparison — they’re dating, they’re in love, they’re the first serious thing Jim’s ever had in his life.
“I realized we could graduate together,” Jim admits, hoping it isn’t too much, too soon, too fast. “In two-and-a-half years. Right? Then you’ll have to go somewhere for your residency, won’t you?”
Bones’s eyebrows go up as he gets off the bed. “You wanna come?” he asks incredulously — but if it’s a surprise, it looks like the best surprise he’s ever heard.
Fuck, Jim loves him.
“Bones,” Jim says, letting out a laugh before he grabs Bones’s whiskey from him. He turns to set both cups down on the bedside table and then grabs Bones, unable to stand it a moment longer without kissing him. Bones presses against him desperately, and Jim wonders what had been going on in his head the last half-hour here alone.
Maybe Jim could’ve kissed him forever, but he’s suddenly too keyed up to keep it all in. He pushes Bones away from him, keeping his grip on Bones’s upper arms. “Only if you want me there, too, I mean,” he says, wishing he didn’t need reassurance.
“You’re a damn menace, you know?” Bones says, laughing. “Of course I do, Jim. God help me.”
Jim grins, shaking Bones’s shoulders in excitement. “Don’t you think this shit is karmic synergy?”
One of Bones’s eyebrows goes up. “You mean fate?”
“Well, technically they’re a little different. Besides, karmic synergy sounds better.”
Bones laughs and shakes his head. “I guess maybe I do — all this shit has got to be fate.”
“Karmic synergy,” Jim corrects, letting go of him to grab their cups again.
“What have you done to keep karma on your side, anyway?” Bones asks, but he reaches down to the bed and then holds something out to Jim. Jim blinks and takes a small candy box from him, breaking into a grin when he sees those salted caramels he loves so much. “I noticed you didn’t open any of your crush baskets this week,” Bones adds.
“Well, I have already got a boyfriend.” Jim looks up at him, grinning. “And he’s got a crush on me.”
“Darlin’, we live together,” Bones says dryly, rolling his eyes. “And didn’t you say there was a party going on?”
Jim tosses the caramels back onto the bed, wraps his free arm around Bones, and starts pulling him out of the room. “Do you think you’re gonna get as wasted as last time?” he asks conversationally as they make their way down the stairs.
“Well, you’re starting me off with about ten ounces of ninety proof whiskey so… probably.”
Jim laughs. He’d have said something else, but the door bursts open with more guests. Jim’s arm slides off Bones and he jumps the last three stairs. He’s got a feeling he hears Bones say something behind him about just being in the hospital, but the sight of the new people is too distracting.
“Spock!” he exclaims, barreling into him. Spock lets out a short, startled laugh, and Jim makes eye contact with Uhura next to him. For the first time in Jim’s life, she actually looks approvingly at him.
Ben appears behind them, Sulu in tow. “You’re officially welcoming the new Omega Chi president into KT?” Ben asks, reaching out to squeeze Spock’s shoulder.
A faint, pleased smile appears on Spock’s face.
“President?” Jim exclaims. “Hell, that’s worthy of celebration. A new reign!”
“My first order of business was declaring an official truce,” Spock says.
Jim grins. “Fine by me. Can’t guarantee there won’t be any unsanctioned pranks along the way, though.”
“Of course not.”
“How about beer pong?” Jim asks, tilting his head towards the back of the house with a smirk. He spots Bones hovering behind him and puts his arm around him again. “Me and Bones against you and Uhura.” He raises his eyebrows at Uhura in a challenge, but rather than taking it as an affront like he expected, she just smirks at him.
“You’re gonna regret that,” she says, grabbing Spock’s hand and pulling him towards the ping pong table in the back room.
“Get beers first!” Jim calls, then laughs. He pulls Bones even closer to him and looks around at the already-full house. The bass of the music reverberating, the potent haze of weed, screaming and laughing from every corner. It’s always that same heady feeling — people having a good time because of him. The pulsing, frenetic, excited energy is nearly as intoxicating as the actual alcohol.
And, for the first time, he thinks that two-and-a-half more years might actually be enough time.
“Y’know, Bones,” he says into his ear, “tomorrow we should put your apartment together. Unpack and all that shit.”
Bones raises an eyebrow. “You planning on breaking up with me?”
Jim just laughs, not even bothering to dignify that with a response, especially when Bones seems to melt into his side. “C’mon, I just think it might be good to have a place to go when KT gets too crazy for you.” He pauses, and then adds, “Or me.”
“Might be nice,” Bones says, surveying the party with a mixture of apprehension and amusement. “Every once in a while. But first, don’t we have to win at beer pong?”
Jim nods emphatically, pressing against Bones’s shoulders to propel him towards the game.
“I think this party is gonna go better than last time,” Bones says, then pauses to take a drink of whiskey.
“Famous last words,” Jim laughs.