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He's expecting Jim anytime now. He glances to the antique clock on the shelf, the one that had belonged to his father. About fifteen minutes yet, half hour tops before he imagines he'll be by, if he figures right. He knows Jim well enough to know his routines by now. After that blow out on the bridge with Spock, he'll either have gone to the rec room to run or punch a bag, or just gone to his quarters to cool off. But then he'll want somewhere to go, something to distract him, he'll want to talk and drink and probably, knowing Jim, he'll want to fuck.
And that's fine by him. He'd made it clear to Jim back in the academy that he wasn't looking for more than that. Friends who fuck or otherwise. After Jocelyn, he was done with serious relationships. One divorce was enough for any man, but the divorce from her had damn near killed him. He couldn't go through that again, couldn't let himself love the way he'd loved her again. Not to say it had ever been healthy. It seems there's not a damn thing Leonard's drawn to that's quite healthy, try as he might to rail against the dangers that threaten to close in on them all.
So this works for him. Drinking and talking late into the night and, sometimes, screwing. It helps drown away the ever-present hum of the engines that remind him that he's so far from earth, so far from a planet that will never really be a home to him again. He's down to his officer's blacks, not quite so comfortable after that long day that he's changed into civvies. There's a third shift going late into the night to repair the warp core, and teams out crawling through the jeffries tubes repairing damages they'd taken on, so though the current encounter was over, there's this feeling of not quite being done here yet. A slow orbit around a peaceful planet while they complete repairs doesn't quiet the uneasy energy in the ship.
Bones is well into his second Aldebaran whiskey, the green liquid near-glowing in the cut-crystal glass, and he gives it a slow swirl as he brings it up to his lips for a drink.
And that's fine by him. He'd made it clear to Jim back in the academy that he wasn't looking for more than that. Friends who fuck or otherwise. After Jocelyn, he was done with serious relationships. One divorce was enough for any man, but the divorce from her had damn near killed him. He couldn't go through that again, couldn't let himself love the way he'd loved her again. Not to say it had ever been healthy. It seems there's not a damn thing Leonard's drawn to that's quite healthy, try as he might to rail against the dangers that threaten to close in on them all.
So this works for him. Drinking and talking late into the night and, sometimes, screwing. It helps drown away the ever-present hum of the engines that remind him that he's so far from earth, so far from a planet that will never really be a home to him again. He's down to his officer's blacks, not quite so comfortable after that long day that he's changed into civvies. There's a third shift going late into the night to repair the warp core, and teams out crawling through the jeffries tubes repairing damages they'd taken on, so though the current encounter was over, there's this feeling of not quite being done here yet. A slow orbit around a peaceful planet while they complete repairs doesn't quiet the uneasy energy in the ship.
Bones is well into his second Aldebaran whiskey, the green liquid near-glowing in the cut-crystal glass, and he gives it a slow swirl as he brings it up to his lips for a drink.
