the Dalaverse

Not sure what possessed me to pick up this prompt from the Jim/Bones kink meme, and it took me two damn days to write these measely 630 words. But I can't resist some huddling-together-for-warmth, and it was nice to stretch a bit before holiday fic fest season starts. Also, now I know the name of the guy who wrote the creepiest Christmas song of all time.


Title: I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice
The heating's busted and Jim is an eternal opportunist...
Author: Dala
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: standard applies; title from "Baby, It's Cold Outside" by Frank Loesser
Written for: this prompt at buckleup_meme



I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice


"Goddamn lousy maintenance," Bones mutters, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Jim fights an urge to roll his eyes. He's also annoyed that no one is available to come fix their heating until morning - the joys of living in a hundred-year-old shoebox of an apartment off campus - but it's October and the temperature isn't exactly blizzard-level. "It's not that cold, man."

Bones glares at him, shoulders hunched so far up by his ears and swaddled so thoroughly in a quilt that he looks like a fat, angry bluebird. "It is that cold, and it's damp as hell to boot."

"I'll give you that one," Jim concedes, glancing over at the rain pattering outside the fog-shrouded window. He shrugs and shuffles over on the sofa. Bones is busy muttering about sanctimonious Iowa hicks when Jim starts tugging at his cocoon, and he blinks in confusion. It's sort of adorable.

"You tryin' to kill me?"

Feeling a shiver run through Bones at the influx of air, Jim quickly nudges against his side and throws the quilt back over both of them. "Body heat," he explains, tucking himself under Bones' arm with as much casualness as he can muster. "And here I thought you were a doctor, Bones."

It's dark except for the light from the screen, dark enough that Jim hopes Bones can't see the color on his cheeks. It's from the cold, of course. James T. Kirk does not blush. He stares resolutely at the sepia-tinted landscape of the old Western Bones picked out.

Bones shifts, his arm hovering for several agonizing seconds until it finally settles over Jim's shoulders. He sighs in resignation and leans back, propping his feet in their thick wooly socks on the coffee table. Jim's heart recedes to its usual rhythm and then slows some more; it's pleasantly toasty under the blankets with Bones and he's tired from a rough combat training session this morning. The movie's not really doing it for him, either. Bones seems to be following it very closely, though -- he hasn't glanced down at Jim once.

Jim lets his eyelids fall, dimly aware of his head tipping back as he nods off. He has this crazy dream about being in a canoe race on a lake somewhere, with Uhura in the next canoe over yelling at him in some bizarre French-Vulcan patois. His canoe capsizes right before he reaches the dock, dumping him into water which should be shockingly cold and dark but instead he seems to drift through it, effortless and easy, until he lands at the bottom. He's not worried about breathing because Bones is there, telling him it's okay that he lost the race. He smiles and gently touches Jim's face, his fingertips leaving bright trails in the water as they brush across his brow, his cheek, his jaw, his -

Jim opens his eyes. Bones freezes, the pad of his thumb warm against the corner of Jim's mouth.

"Jim," Bones whispers, "I..."

His eyes are growing wide with panic. Before he can bolt, Jim turns into the arm curled so carefully around him. Bones lets out a little noise of surprise at the touch of Jim's lips. Then he opens his mouth and Jim feels a rush of heat spread through his entire body.

He tries to wriggle closer, forgetting that they're tangled up in half a dozen layers. They end up on the floor, kissing and cursing and laughing and kissing some more.

The heating kicks on in the early hours of the morning. Jim, wrapped up in Bones' arms and the blue quilt on his bed, wakes up just enough to turn and press his chilly nose to Bones' neck. He grins at Bones' sleepy protest and goes back to sleep.