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There were two things Jim knew for sure when he woke up: Christine had never eaten a meal quietly in her life, and he had most certainly not been listening to "One-Winged Angel" when he had last known consciousness.
He reached for the wire between his earbuds and pressed the button to pause the audio, about to heave himself into sitting up when Christine flung an arm across his chest. "Not so fast there, soldier. You're not moving until he gets a look at you."
"Chris," Jim groaned, though he knew better than to argue and stayed lying flat. He recognized where he was now, the little cot in the depressing side room off the pharmacy counter vaccinations were typically done in. "I told him I've passed out after vaccines before, it's not like that was a surprise..."
"It wasn't, but you know, you punched a hole in his ego. He was so sure you wouldn't pass out if it was him giving you the vaccine. You realize I'm going to have to hear him bitching about this for the next two weeks."
"Sorry in advance." Jim raised his head just enough to look at the array of things on the table beside her—some kind of prepackaged mini charcuterie tray, a peach Snapple, and a baked good wrapped in crinkly plastic he'd wager had been what he'd heard when he'd come back to consciousness. "And sorry you're having to eat your lunch back here."
"Eh, I volunteered to keep an eye on you. I hate the break room. What's His Face is always watching Fox News."
"I guess a hovel behind the pharmacy counter is better than that."
"I resent your calling it a hovel. We have decorations. Look, we even have a Christmas tree."
"It's October. Has that thing been up since last year?"
"Yes, but you'll notice it has pumpkin string lights on it, so now it's in season."
"You've given this a lot of thought."
"You should see the flip flop and firework ornaments I made for July."
The door to the side room thunked open against the wall, and Jim tipped his head back to get a look. As expected. Bones stormed darkly into the room and dropped a paper bag on the end of the table with the remnants of Christine's lunch. At least when he spoke to her it wasn't snappish, which Jim doubted would be the case when Bones got around to speaking to him. "Sorry. Am I cutting you short?"
"Nope, I should get back out there. Lots more arms to stab. I don't think it'll be too exciting 'less we get another fainter."
"One was enough."
Yeah, Bones looked pissed.
Christine gathered her trash and tucked her phone back into her pocket, giving him a good luck, kiddo and his shoulder a quick squeeze before she went back out on the floor, shutting the door behind her. He liked Christine. He'd never had an older sister but often imagined this was what it was like.
Christine was a much pleasanter alternative to what was coming, anyway.
"Sit up," Bones ordered, and he did, bracing a hand on the edge of the cot as he swung his feet to the floor. He doubted he'd been out for longer than a few minutes, but until Bones stopped prodding at him he wasn't going to check his watch to know for sure.
Bones stopped his once-over only to rip open some package he'd pulled from the paper bag and hand him half of whatever was inside. "Eat."
Jim squinted at what he'd been handed—a wrap he soon recognized as one of the ones the store sold in the grab and go area. The other half was on a plate Bones was clearly making up for himself. "You hate this one."
"And it's just my luck it's the one damn thing in the entire place you're not allergic to. Eat it."
He did as he was told, chewing obediently. Obedient enough to take orders, but not enough to not feel like being kind of an asshole. "I did tell you I had a history of fainting after these things."
"And I told you to eat dinner before you came here. You didn't, did you?"
"Sam needed my help with—"
"So that's a no. Jim, eat that entire thing or I swear to God."
"Did you at least get something to drink?"
It figured he was then summarily handed a Gatorade.
Bones sat heavily down in the chair Christine had vacated and drew the plate with the wrap closer. Some other time Jim will make a joke asking which love language I will eat this thing I hate I paid for for your sake is, but not right now. "Next time I tell you to sit your ass down for five minutes after the damn shot, listen."
"I would have normally! But we're behind on the Halloween set and I promised Pike I'd—"
"I don't care what you promised him. You finish eating that thing and we're heading out. I already cleared it with him."
"Bones! That's not—"
"Next time you try arguing with me, it better not be a night I've hauled your unconscious ass up off linoleum, kid."
Chastened, Jim looked back down at what could charitably be called a meal. "Look, I'm sorry. I thought I could just get back to work and it wouldn't be a big deal. Any other time of year I would have listened to what you said."
"Ain't much chance I'll believe that, but I can tell you're trying to say I was right, so I'll take it."
He wouldn't get far trying to budge Bones on his account, so he'd try one more tack. "Joseph and Christine, can they handle everyone who's left…?"
"It's only 1 AM; there's hours yet. They'll get through the rest've the team before six, no issues."
That was probably true. Resigning himself to an early night it was. An early night at Bones' place, no less. Normally he'd be feeling a certain, pretty fucking great way about that—nights they get to spend together are rare, with Jim working the overnight shift Sunday through Thursday and Bones having Jo on the weekends—but tonight, his arm aching a bit from the shot and his body damn tired from a long week of hauling shelves for the mini seasonal set, he was, well… just tired.
"Sorry, Bones." He had to say it for real if he wanted it to matter. Bones looked up the moment he did, setting his plate aside. "I shouldn't've… look, I know what you're gonna say, killing myself for this place isn't worth it. I know it's not. But we're always shortstaffed, and this shit doesn't get done unless I'm here… I should've listened to you, but I just… got too caught up in my own shit. It isn't that I didn't hear what you were saying, okay?"
"Hell, Jim, I know that. … I'm not mad at you. Just this place." Bones waved a hand feebly at their environs, Christine's Halloween tree included. "Ain't right you gotta work yourself to the bone for this place. You or any of the rest of them. I don't even technically work here. Wish sometimes I could… use that, somehow. Make things better for you all."
The pharmacy, such as it was, was part of the building, but run by a separate company. Jim twitched his lips up faintly. "I don't think one man can fix the ills of all of retail, Bones."
"Nah, I've got a few ideas on how I could, but I think all of 'em go against the first, do no harm bit." Bones looked at the last bit of the wrap with distaste and swallowed it anyway. "What was that infernal noise you were listening to, by the by?"
"I will hear no slander against Nobuo Uematsu. … Video game music is supposed to improve focus. Figured if I got into a groove it'd make the set go faster."
"Go back to that one podcast about medieval movies. Exercise your brain."
"Aw. You do care about me." At least with the wrap in his stomach he felt steady enough to get up. Jim eased onto his feet and over to Bones' chair—and, because he fucking felt like it, into his lap, even if the combined weight of them made plastic groan.
"This thing ain't gonna hold up much longer at this rate."
"So the PML'll order another one, no skin off my nose." Bones had wrapped his arms around his waist the moment he'd sat down, so all really was forgiven. Jim nudged his nose against the top of the other man's head. "Can you make those pancakes from last time tomorrow morning?"
"Tall order asking for breakfast after an overnight shift, kid. I haven't worked one of these since Atlanta Gen. … But I can be persuaded. Breakfast in bed's probably the only thing that'll keep your ass in bed. I got that right?"
"Just about, yeah." One of Bone's hands was roaming just a bit, under the hem of the crappy cotton solid-colored t-shirt he'd bought in bulk from a craft store. (The inevitable holes from wear and tear and misaimed box cutters start to matter less when you have a drawer with ten others at the ready.) "Maybe we can check out that place you thought Jo might like, too. The board game store? Said I wanted to get a proper look at it but we haven't had a day off line up in, what is it now…"
"Six weeks." Yeah, the hand was decidedly under his shirt now, skimming along his stomach. "Not that I was counting."
"One of us had to." Jim bit his lip against the kind of thing he wanted to say in response to Bones' caress (the walls of the hovel well-appointed side room were thin) and said instead, "I'm pretty sure I'm still on the clock and you feeling me up would be frowned upon by management."
"Good thing I don't fall under their purview then." Bones leaned in and nipped at his ear lobe. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"
"I think tonight I'm a pain in my own ass. I fell kinda hard on that floor."
"And let that be a lesson to you."