Leonard Horatio McCoy (aviatophobia) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-11-30 12:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, james kirk, leonard mccoy |
Who: Leonard McCoy and Jim Kirk
What: Road trip
When: End of October
Where: Mississippi to California
Warnings: Low for disgruntlement
Status: Complete
While this isn't the stupidest thing he and Jim have done, he's sort of starting to regret it. Bones had this trip planned down to the second, and Jim had, of course, thrown all that planning out the window the moment he got a chance. Rest stops went over time, food stops went ridiculously over time, and now they're over an hour behind schedule for when Bones had wanted to stop for the night.
"I wanted to check in at seven thirty," he says, for the third time. "But it looks like we won't get there until almost nine."
No, it is completely the stupidest thing they've done. At first, it sounded great, but Jim is regretting it just as much. He can't sit in a car for nearly thirty hours. There's a reason he's a pilot - he doesn't like to be grounded. So naturally he needs to stretch his legs more and move around, but apparently that's not allowed.
"Don't get yourself all bruised up, Georgia peach," Jim huffs, curled up in the passenger's seat. "Just call them and tell them you'll be checking in late."
It's Jim's own fault he has stupidly long legs to stretch. And dear god the music Jim picked for the trip. Music being a very loose term for it.
"Are you insane? You call them, I'm not calling them while I'm driving. Christ, Jim." His phone is on the console and he nods to it. "Phone's right there. The number for the hotel is on the itinerary, which should be the folded up piece of paper under the phone, unless you threw it away."
Jim makes a big show of sighing and unfolding himself. He picks up the phone, and also makes a show of unfolding the precious itinerary. "You could pull over, you know." Still, he's already dialing the number.
"Hello? Yeah, there's a reservation under ... Uh. McCoy? Yeah. Yeah, that's right. We're just behind schedule so - yeah. Uh. Nine, nine-thirty? Perfect. Uh - No, that's not necessary. One, yeah. There's couches? One. Great. I'll see you then, Jenny."
What.
What?
"What did you just do?" It sounded like there were changes made, and the c-word is not allowed on Bones's meticulously planned road trip.
"I told Jenny that we'll be there late and confirmed our reservation." Jim puts the phone and paper back, then reclines his seat. "Oh man, turn up this song, it's great."
Bones mutters Jenny under his breath and shakes his head, glaring sideways at Jim. "What was that about couches."
"Hmm?" Jim raises his eyebrows. "Oh. The rooms have couches. They fold out." Since Bones clearly is being a sour peach, Jim turns up the song himself.
"And why was that something that needed to be discussed with Jenny." Bones has a sneaking suspicion of what this means, and he doesn't like it.
There's a shrug. Jim shrinks down a bit in his chair, because Bones is looking remarkably disgruntled, and maybe it's not good to poke too much at a recently divorced man. "I just told her that two bedrooms is stupid. Why should we pay for two? We've shared rooms before."
Oh god damn. He takes a hand off the wheel to rub at his forehead, fighting against a headache. At least there's a little more money in the budget now, but he can't say that. God forbid Jim feel vindicated in his actions.
"Well you get the sofa."
Jim sighs. "Yeah, yeah." Jim can, really, sleep anywhere. He decides to just let Bones drive in silence for the rest of this leg, so he can work over his annoyance before they need to settle in for the night.
By the time they get into the hotel room and Bones gets a shower, gets a few minutes away from Jim to calm down, he feels better. Less like he's going to strangle someone.
Once he's in his pyjamas, he ruffles at Jim's hair to show he's not mad. "How're your legs doing?"
He just lets Bones do his thing. They've been friends long enough now to know when the other needs a moment or needs a kick in the ass. Jim wrinkles his nose and climbs off the bed for his own shower.
"Like I need a massage to get the blood flowing through them. You better have left me some hot water."
"Yeah all right. Get yourself clean and I'll give you a rub down." Technically he's also Jim's doctor, so it's offered genuinely. Not tongue-in-cheek like Jim might offer it.
Well. Jim didn't expect anything to come from the comment, so he's pretty pleased. He brings his pyjamas into the bathroom so he can change after his shower. Then he stretches out on the bed. "If we flew, we'd be there already."
"Ha!" Bones barks a laugh and pushes at Jim's shoulder, making himself comfortable on the bed with his book. "You're funny, kid. Besides, how else would I get all my things over and make sure they were in one piece?"
"You know they air ship things, right? I could have flown it." He turns on the tv, then props himself up on an elbow. "Or you could get new things. Start all over and all that."
Jim settles in next to him, and Bones remembers his promise about working on his legs. He's a doctor, not a masseuse, but he can do something anyway. "C'mere," he says, and shifts Jim so Jim's legs are over his, and he can work his thumbs into the muscles of his thighs.
"I thought about it, actually. Just getting all new things when I got there. But the thought of it sort of upset my stomach, I guess. I wanted to have something from home, you know?"
Jim lets himself be moved around, more than happy to be the subject of a half-ass massage. "Yeah, I guess." Jim doesn't have anything like that. He didn't really bring anything from Iowa to Mississippi, and Mississippi isn't what he'd call home anyway.
"Most of the things I brought this time came with me from Atlanta, so I guess that's why I wanted to hang onto them." He finds a knot and starts pressing into it, distracting himself. "Go ahead, call me a sentimental fool."
"I'll - hnng." Jim clenches his fist, because that knot is painful. "What are you trying to do to me?"
"Stop being such a damned infant. You've got a knot here, I'm trying to get it unknotted."
"You're trying to kill me." Jim squirms around a bit. "I'll never walk again."
"Now you hold on just a second. You'll thank me when I'm done." He gives Jim's knee a pat and then gets to work trying to unknot his thigh properly.
"You'll hate it tomorrow when my leg is so sore that I have to get out of the car every hour." But he clenches his jaw against the unpleasantness, knowing that he'll feel better in the long run.
"You can stretch out in the back seat if it hurts you that bad." After a few minute he can feel the muscle start to loosen up a bit. "How's that feeling?"
"Good. Better." He's relaxed, too. Jim lets out a pleased sigh. "You're the best."
"Uh huh." He shakes his head with a fond smile.
"Thank you. For doing this with me. It means a lot."
"Mm? For not giving you a choice and following you across the country in a stupid car? You're welcome." Truth be told, Jim's not sure what he'd do if he didn't tag along. It'd be boring without Bones and he worries that the older man might find divorce harder than he lets on. "What are friends for."
Bones is honestly not doing so well with being left, with not having custody of his daughter. But he can do this. He has to do this, and maybe he can do it with his best friend at his side.
He shifts them again, tucking Jim under his arm, like one might a favourite stuffed animal. "It's not like I can just let any doctor work on you, can I?"
Jim snorts a bit, but accepts his current fate. "Yeah, God forbid someone isn't there to remind me of all the dangers of flying and sneezing and generally living."
He drags his fingers through Kirk's hair lazily, comforted by the weight of the other man against him. Maybe Jim had a good idea, just getting them one bed. Jim's always good for a cuddle. "Maybe if you didn't take so many risks."
"You invent risks. You invent things just so you have something to get mad about." Jim's a good pilot, and that's not just his arrogance talking. But Bones will be Bones. "Is your place in California close to the beach?"
Of course Jim's a good pilot, Bones knows that. But that doesn't mean Bones isn't nervous about Jim being up in the air like that. "It's close to the hospital. You know, where my job is?"
"Is the hospital, where your job is, close to the beach?" Jim punches Bones in the arm and dislodges himself, going to pull out the couch bed and start putting on the extra bedding that's in the room.
Oh, well all right. He'd thought for some reason that Jim would just spend the night in the same bed, but that's fine.
"Not especially I don't think. But it's California, everything is close to the beach." That's how California works, right?
It's likely that Jim will end up back there. It's a big enough bed. But he's already been banished to the couch. He stretches out under his blankets. "I don't think that's how it is." Jim takes out his phone to google Orange County. "I wanna learn how to surf."
Bones snorts and turns out his light, getting comfortable. "Of course you would. Thank god we're not in Australia, with all those damned sharks."
"I think California has them. I heard somewhere around there they call great whites 'men in grey suits' so they don't worry the tourists." Jim's face is illuminated by his phone as he flicks through the windows.
He'd tensed up when Jim mentioned California sharks, then throws an extra pillow at Jim. "You're a bad man and you're going to send me to an early grave."
He oofs, but takes the pillow and adds it to his pile. "What? It's an ocean. Of course there are sharks." Jim shuts off his phone and sets it aside. "You do realize that shark attacks are statistically rare."
"You're not helping here, Jim."
"Daaaa nun." Jim smiles to himself as he cozies into the mattress.
"I swear to god Jim -- "
"If I lose a leg, I know a good surgeon who can fix me up real good. Good thing I don't need both of those to fly a plane."
"If you weren't already lying down I'd tackle you. I can feel my hair turning grey right now."
"You'd look distinguished. Like you know what you're doing." Jim snickers and rolls over, back to Bones.
"I do know what I'm doing. It's the only reason you're still alive."
"Oh - Please." Jim rolls his eyes. "You've never once been in any position to save my life. You're just paranoid."
"Blah blah blah. You're grateful for me and I know you are."
"Blah blah yourself. Go to sleep, peaches."