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The week long fall break was finally coming to an end. Not that Jim didn’t like breaks from class, but it got boring pretty quickly. Almost everyone was off campus visiting family. Even Bones flew (FLEW!- Jim couldn’t wait to hear the horror story!) back to Georgia to visit his daughter. So Jim had been forced to spend the week largely in solitude.
Bones had told him that he'd be back by six at the latest, and so by five, Jim found himself anxiously waiting for his best friend and roommate to return, trying to keep himself occupied by reading on his PADD. By six, he had given up trying to accomplish anything, and sat staring at the door, waiting for it to slide open and reveal Bones. By six-fifteen, Jim was pacing. He wasn't actually worried, per se. After all, flights got delayed all the time. But he was getting restless.
When the door at last slid open, Jim felt his face break out in a grin. But less than a second later, his mind actually registered what he was seeing, and he froze in surprise.
Bones had a mustache.
"What is that?" Jim blurted out.
"What is what?" Bones asked, not really paying attention to Jim as he put down his bag and started pulling off his jacket.
"You have a mustache."
Bones raised his eyebrow, and Jim found the look very disconcerting with that horrible facial hair. "I do, Jim. You're very observant." Bones began unpacking his duffel bag, but Jim remained frozen in place. "Is there some sort of problem?" Bones eventually asked.
Was there a problem? Bones had a mustache. An ugly, horrible mustache. A mustache straight out of a twentieth century porn vid. A mustache that Bones seemed to think wasn't absolutely ridiculous. A mustache that he purposely grew, saw in the mirror, and decided was good enough to wear while parading around in public. The next thing Jim knew, Bones was probably going to start wearing those tacky low cut Hawaiian shirts that show off a guy's chest hair.
Jim settled for simply jumping to the point. "You have a pornstache."
"A what?"
"A pornstache," Jim repeated. "A mustache like porn stars wear."
Bones let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed his hand across his face. "I don't know what kind of porn you're watching, kid, but I don't think I have a 'pornstache.'" Bones spit out the last word like it personally offended him, which considering the context, it very well may have.
Jim rolled his eyes as Bones's statement. "Not modern porn. But porn from the twentieth century, you know?"
Bones looked up at Jim as if he had just told him he'd sprouted a second head. "No, I don't know. And I also don't want to. Why the hell are you watching porn from the previous millennium, kid?"
Too much free time and a willingness to click link after link in his PADD, Jim thought to himself. Outwardly, his only response was a quick shrug of his shoulders.
"Well I doubt anyone else is watching ancient porn, so I think I'm safe."
"You're not going to shave it?" Jim felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Dread, probably, or second hand embarrassment.
"No, I like it," was the only response Bones gave him.
"It's not good, Bones."
"I've been back for a matter of minutes, Jim, can we not argue about my goddamn face until I shower, at least?"
Bones didn't wait for Jim to answer, simply walking into the bathroom without another word.
When Bones re-entered the room, Jim was sprawled across his bed. Not sitting up, he heard rather than saw Bones' exasperated sigh and (probable) accompanying eye roll.
"You can't lay on your own damn bed?"
"Your bed is comfier."
"Our beds are standard issue."
Jim sat up. "Yeah, but-"
Bones was wearing nothing but a towel. Not that it was surprising. He just showered, after all. In fact, Jim would've probably been more surprised to have sat up and found his best friend fully clothed. And besides, it’s not like it wasn't anything Jim hadn't seen before. They were roommates, after all.
But now, standing in front of Jim, sprawled out on the bed, Bones looked impressive. Jim wasn't sure impressive was the right word, but he couldn't think of a better one. His best friend was practically standing over him, wearing nothing but a towel, a scowl, and that damn mustache. His strong arms were crossed over his chest (and how had Jim never noticed how much chest hair Bones had?). He watched a drop of water appear from under the towel and roll down Bones’ thigh before his eyes snapped up to meet his friend’s.
Hot. The word wasn’t impressive. It was hot.
Jim was a little appalled the he found the sight of Bones with that mustache and that chest hair so attractive.
But to be honest, Jim had been turned on by weirder things than his best friend.
Jim felt his breath hitch as Bones’ eyes leisurely trailed down his body, pausing briefly, before travelling back up to his eyes. A scowl formed under that ridiculous mustache. “Nice tent, Jim.” Bones said flatly before turning and walking back to his closet.
“Bones, come on…” Jim most certainly did not whine.
“Shut up kid,” he threw over his shoulder. “And get off my bed.”
“That is not the spirit,” Jim muttered.
“Jim, I don’t have time for any of your goddamn bullshit. I just want to go to bed. To sleep,” he added when Jim perked up.
Admittedly, Jim had only decided that Bones was hot within the last two minutes, but he nonetheless wanted him. And Jim didn’t usually have trouble getting what he wanted. Bones was going to be a challenge. Jim was could be a charming man when he wanted to be, but Bones knew him well, and he doubted he’d like being smooth talked by Jim. He’d see through that in a second. No, Bones would appreciate a less crafty approach.
“I think we should have sex.” Or a blunt approach.
“You what? Are you drunk? Because I just took long shuttle all the way from Georgia, and I am not in the mood for your-”
“I’m serious,” Jim interrupted. “I think you’re attractive and I think we’d have some good sex.” He threw on his Most Charming Smirk™.
“No, you’re just into weird porn and now I’m shaving this damned thing off!”
Bones, still clad in only his plain white towel, stormed towards the bathroom. But Jim leapt off of the bed and grabbed his wrist. Bones tried to yank his arm back, but Jim held tight.
Bones ran his other hand over his face in exasperation. “Dammit Jim, let me go!” he roared in his face. Jim held on. “Would you just go to bed or something?”
“Only if you come with me,” he shot back immediately.
Bones yanked his arm out of his friend’s grasp and pushed him away, only have to have Jim grab his shoulders and pull him down, too.
Bones landed on top of Jim and looked at the man below him. Not really in anger, Jim noted, but more in surprise (and irritation, but that wasn’t exactly new). Before Bones could protest, Jim grabbed the back of his head and brought him down for a kiss.
When Bones didn’t immediately respond, Jim’s gut clenched. He feared he’d made a horrible mistake. That he would be rejected, that he’d just ruined the relationship with his only good friend, that Bones would kick him out and-
But sooner than he could have even begun to put those thoughts into words, he felt Bones’ lips move in time with his own. He was thrilled when he felt a tongue probing at his lips, which he parted willingly.
“Bones, I-”
“Shut up, kid,” Bones growled. Jim almost moaned at the remark.
Jim reached for the standard issue towel separating the man above him from full nudity, but felt a hand snatch his own away.
“Not tonight Jim.”
Jim’s eyes snapped up. He rolled his eyes. “Bones, stop playing hard to get,” he teased.
“I’m not playing.” When Bones stood up, Jim began to fear he might actually be serious. “I just flew all the way from Georgia after an exhausting week with an eight year old. I need sleep.”
Jim scowled at the man as he pulled on his boxers.
“Also, you made fun of my damn mustache,” he said over his shoulder.
Bones crawled into bed beside Jim and, much to his satisfaction, pulled him to his stomach, burying his face in his neck.
“Go to sleep, Jim.”