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[chasedthestars]

Jim sprawls back against the sheets, boneless as a jellyfish but for his mouth, which is stretched in a wide, exhausted grin. Bones is alive, sex is still awesome, and though neither of them has slept properly in days, Jim's confident he can go another round. Just as soon as he catches his breath, which should happen any time now.

"Let's fight more," he says, turning his sweaty head against the one pillow still miraculously clinging to the bed. "It sucked at the time, but this part, this part's worth it. You know..."

Smile fading only a fraction, Jim looks up at the ceiling, trying to remember what they'd been fighting about. "I can't even remember why I was mad."

Comments

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy's grinning. It's the first sign that he's well-laid because he doesn't smile like that unless he's been truly and thoroughly well-fucked and Jim has a precarious habit of doing that. He shifts, groaning as he rolls over and pins Jim to the bed with one strong hand against his chest. "Mostly the fact that I'm too damn stubborn and you're the same," he reasons, nipping at his lips for a short, sharp, perfect kiss. "Shit, kid, you're something else in bed. Should've known all those stories weren't made up."

[chasedthestars]

Jim laughs, lips parting beneath Bones' mouth, and for a moment he lets himself be lost to the afterglow. He feels emptied out, but pleasantly so, head swimming just a touch when he opens his eyes and looks at the man hovering over him. "Stories?" What had they been talking about? "What kind of stories?"

[leftwithmybones]

It's not like he wants to run the retread of stories that he's heard over the years, seeing as most of them are tacky as shit and he doesn't want to subject Jim to the past. Still, he's asking. "You know, how flexible you are, how many rounds you can go," he drawls, brushing soft fingertips through Jim's hair before he slides them over his cheek, cupping his face. "The usual Academy crap."

[chasedthestars]

"Oh right." Jim grins, turning his head to kiss and then bite at the hand against his cheek. He can't recall anyone he's enjoyed sleeping with more than Bones, and not only, he suspects, stretching pleasantly abused muscles, because at the moment he literally can't recall who else he's been with.

"Wow," he exhales. "I think we actually fucked my brains out."

[leftwithmybones]

That earns a proud and satisfied kiss from McCoy, pressed to Jim's forehead as he holds onto him tight. "Well, can't say that I'm real upset about that, darling," he drawls, accent all the stronger given their activities. "Maybe you ought to get some rest, though. Emotions have been running high and don't think you and I've fought while doing this, not yet."

[chasedthestars]

"Don't wanna," Jim replies, wrapping his arms and then a leg around Bones to keep him where he is. "I don't feel emotional, I - " He really can't remember why they fought at all. It must not have been important.

Head back against the pillow, Jim looks past the gorgeous, disheveled man looming over him and at the ceiling, all rustic slats and handmade bolts. It's not the Enterprise, but it's nice, and with the night breeze bearing the smell of tropical flowers through the window, Jim doesn't think he minds staying a while.

"Hey Bones?" he says. "How long are we on shoreleave?"

[leftwithmybones]

He frowns, sitting up enough that his hair spills over his forehead and his weight is pressed on his forearm as he leans over Jim, staring down at Jim. "What the hell are you talking about, darlin'?" he murmurs, lost and wondering if this is a joke, shifting to keep Jim in his arms. "It's the island. We're here indefinitely."

[chasedthestars]

Still smiling faintly, Jim shakes his head. Sometimes he wishes that were true. As much as he yearns to be a Captain, it's nice to have a whole few days strung together to relax and hang out with his boyfriend. His roommate. His...

Sliding his hands up Bones' arms, Jim tests his body's reaction, and no, they're definitely boyfriends. He can still feel his skin singing with the phantom press of Bones' fingertips, the scrape of his stubble. But hadn't he gone to Risa with Gaila and her friends?

Jim's brow pulls down. "This isn't Risa? C'mon." Summoning a smile to mask his sudden bout of nerves, Jim inhales. "Smells like flowers and sex and beach. I didn't drink that much, it's definitely Risa."

[leftwithmybones]

Now, he's getting concerned. If Jim weren't wrapped around him like a new version of a monkey octopus, McCoy might grab the tricorder and do a quick scan for a concussion, maybe a hit to the head that he missed. Still, he's worried as hell, even if he doesn't want that to show. "Jim," he scolds mildly, worriedly. "We're on Tabula Rasa. Haven't been on the ship in ages. Hell, I've been here over three years, now."

[chasedthestars]

"But we shuttled here, we..." Disentangling their limbs, Jim sits up, but he doesn't go far. He has the most uncomfortable feeling that he's losing something, something important, and so rapidly he can't keep hold of what it even is.

"I don't feel right," he says, looking into Bones' brown eyes. Bones will fix it, Jim remembers that much. Bones can fix anything.

[leftwithmybones]

That kicks up his anxiety and suddenly it's gone from teasing Jim to doing something about it. McCoy sits up, clasping hold of Jim's cheeks with both hands and trying to study the dilation of his pupils to give him evidence of a head injury. "Jim," he says, voice hoarse, half-pleading already. "Jim, look at me. C'mon, Jim, nice and easy, steady breaths, I'll get you through this."

[chasedthestars]

Jim looks as he's been asked, on a normal day only too happy to stare into eyes he loves so well, but it soon feels as if he's missing something. He feels fine, he's not sick, he's - he's in bed with that hot guy from earlier.

Jim's anxious face melts into a smile so pleased it borders on lascivious. "You're that doctor from the Riverside shuttle," he says, recalling that the man's a recent divorcé, and probably gagging for a decent fuck to erase the hurt. Jim slides his body forward, getting right into his space. "Didn't think you had it in you, doc."

[leftwithmybones]

Shit.

One hand on Jim's shoulder to push him away, the other is scrambling for a hypo that he keeps in the bedside chamber. It's not going to be right and his fingers shake slightly as he fumbles for it, knowing now that this has to be tied to Bucky and what he's just seen. "Jim," he swears, desperate and half-pained. "Don't you do this to me." He loads up a shot of adrenaline, something to get the brain working like he can fix this, like he can stop everything from going and he presses it into Jim's shoulder as gently as he can, none of the anger that usually bleeds into his movements there.

[chasedthestars]

He swims beneath the surface for what could be an age. Gradually, he's aware of warmth - he's clad in something soft and comfortable, a blanket drawn up around his neck. He's aware of darkness that reaches past his closed eyes, and when at last he feels brave enough to crack them, sees only a small light left on a nightstand made of wood.

He doesn't speak. He's not afraid of what will happen if he does, but he needs to be alone. He needs to figure out where he is, what's happened. He needs to...remember his own name.

The small, frightened sound escapes his throat against his will, and he sits up, fingers fisting comforting handfuls of the blanket. He doesn't recognize this room.

Looking down at his own knuckles, gripped white, he...he doesn't recognize anything.

[leftwithmybones]

After McCoy had put Jim back to bed, dressed him and sponge-bathed him, he'd taken a couple of hours to regain his thoughts. He'd poured a strong drink, washed up, and took to writing a couple of notes in the event there's something medical he can concoct to stimulate the brain chemistry. When he's through with that, he drags a chair to the doorway, keeps hauling it until he's at just outside that door of Jim's, and he sits.

He waits.

And when Jim starts to wake and he hears the rustling of sheets, he leans forward and pushes to his feet, no longer putting off the inevitable. His hair is dishevelled and there's a raw look on his face -- mostly panic, if he's honest. "Hey, hey, whoa," he soothes softly when Jim wakes. "Easy there. Nice and slow."

[chasedthestars]

Shifting away from his sudden companion, he regards him with wide eyes. Whoever it is, the man looks as miserable as he himself feels, unknown, but something in those warm eyes inspires trust. He sits back.

"What happened?" he asks. "Did I..." Reaching, he can't feel any lumps on his skull. "Did I get hurt?"

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy feels like he's going to be hitting the still fairly hard over the next few days if he can't manage to find a solution to this issue. "As far as I know, no," he says, though he hasn't ruled that out just yet. "From what I can tell, your cognitive functions...memory...has been affected, but there's no physical injury. I need your name, the current year, and tell me what my name is."

[chasedthestars]

He tries, he really does, and for a moment he almost thinks he might know the man in front of him, but nothing comes. He wishes it would, if not only for his own sake, but to get this look off the other man's face.

He shakes his head, swallowing down a sudden urge to run. Where could he even go? "I don't know," he admits, quietly as if that might ease the sting. "Are you a doctor? Do you know how to help me?"

[leftwithmybones]

"I'm Doctor Leonard McCoy." It stings to make this introduction again and hell, there really is a good chance that he could throw up on Jim all over again like on that shuttle so many years ago. "I've known you for a long time and I promise I'm gonna take care of you. Does anything hurt?" he asks, prying the sheets off from his body slowly and gently, worried he's going to inflame some invisible injury.

[chasedthestars]

He watches the sheets come away to reveal soft, worn sweats. Too clothed when he feels this naked, cut open and with nothing to spill out. All at once, he feels like crying, but he's not five. Whatever else he's forgotten, he knows that much.

He swallows. "I feel fine. Mouth's dry. Dr. McCoy?" He licks his lips. "What's my name?"

[leftwithmybones]

"Your name is James Tiberius Kirk. And before you ask, don't look at me, I didn't give you that name," he says, reaching for the glass of water at the side of the bed so he can offer it out to him. "Here, drink this," he coaxes quietly, stomach still uneasy. It's hell. It's absolute hell staring at Jim like this and he feels the strength slowly sap out of his back, making him slouch forward. "It just...happened. I don't even know what caused it, not yet."

[chasedthestars]

His mouth shapes the words. "Tiberius," he murmurs. James. "Hell of a name." He takes the water and wets his tongue, feeling better for the way the cool liquid slides down his throat, but no more informed.

"Amnesia can't just come out of nowhere," he says. James. James summons an uneasy smile. "I mean, it's not magic."

[leftwithmybones]

"Most people call you Jim," he adds, almost an afterthought, James on his tongue reminding him of when he chastises Jim fondly, something that's just for him. "And about that magic...figured I'd wait before I gave you the lowdown on where you are, but it's the kind of place that really could screw with a person's head this badly." He leans in, gently prying Jim's eyes open to check his pupils. "No concussion. No sign of injury. Kid, I'm blaming magic whether you like it or not."

[chasedthestars]

"M'not a kid," he replies at once, and for some reason, it makes him smile, arguing this and not the far more absurd assertion of magic. Jim holds still as he's examined, feeling strangely better for the touch, and when Dr. McCoy moves away again, Jim catches his hands.

"Hey doc? We're friends, aren't we?" That much can be extrapolated for their having known one another for years, but, far better - Jim feels it. "Good friends."

[leftwithmybones]

"You're my best friend," McCoy replies honestly, given that he's not the one who's lost a good chunk of his memory. He's not sure he wants to talk about the 'something else, too' given that they hadn't even managed to get around to real dates yet beyond falling into bed with one another. "I trust you with my life, Jim."