the Dalaverse

I want you know that this ate my brain for a week :)

Pass or Fail

“Acrophobia.”

Jim blinks late afternoon sun out of his eyes. “What?”

Bones smirks at him from five feet above Jim’s head. “Fear of heights. I don’t have it. Trees have enough sense to never leave the good solid earth, thank God.”

“Go ahead and jinx us, why don‘t you,” Jim mutters, annoyed. He speaks perfect Latin, he could’ve worked that one out himself. It’s just that he never expected Bones to respond to a little friendly ribbing by leaping into the trees like an overgrown capuchin monkey. Who’s already gained another two feet while Jim stands around with his mouth catching flies.

“C’mon, fearless leader,” Bones calls down. “Only way to go is up.”

Jim scowls and grabs a low-hanging branch.

By the time he’s caught up, Bones has settled himself on a thick limb covered in this world’s bright pink version of moss. From this vantage point they can see over most of the surrounding tree growth and into the valley below. Despite the wandering canine-like predators whose hunting cries drove them up here in the first place, the tableau is quite lovely.

Bones is not typically inclined to wax poetic over colorful auroras on planets where they’ve been stranded, howled at, and forced to take shelter until the Enterprise can locate them, particularly when said aurora’s atmospheric properties are exactly what’s blocking their comm signals. And yet he’s smiling now, a wide-open smile that Jim sees far too infrequently.

“Used to spend all summer climbing trees as a kid,” Bones remarks, patting the space next to him. Jim hauls himself up, nudging up against Bones’ side and latching onto his thigh for balance (okay, and maybe for a grope). He‘s not so contented from reliving his boyhood that he can’t roll his eyes, and Jim grins at this more familiar reaction.

“Jim and Bo-oones, sittin’ in a tree…”

“I’ll knock you outta the tree, see if I won’t.”

“F - U - C - K - I - N -”

Bones claps a hand over his mouth. “I bet those creepy alien-mutant-wolf-things would just love a nice filet of Starfleet captain.”

Jim’s tongue darts out, tasting bark and dirt and something vaguely sweet that must be tree sap on his palm. Bones makes a very satisfying “eugh!” noise and snatches his hand away, which leaves Jim enough room to toss his leg over the tree branch and put his back up against the broad trunk.

“Okay, so sex in a giant tree is maybe not my brightest idea ever. But you’re not gonna get any rest way over there.” Bones snorts, but scoots over until he’s leaning back against Jim’s chest.

They sleep pretty well, all things considered. And if Jim nearly falls off his perch at daybreak when Bones slips a hand into his pants, only the birds are witness to the flailing.

::grins:: My college roommate once made it a mission to memorize "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in its entirety, so that one's close to my heart.

I LOVE YOUR ICON, OMFG. :"D :"D :"D