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[chasedthestars]

Jim wakes up slowly, fighting it every step of the way.

He feels awful, far worse than is warranted by the minimal whiskey he'd had the night before - his head pounding, mouth cottonball dry, hell, even his chest feels like one of the horses outside sat on it.

"Nngh," he groans, determined to keep his eyes shut until all the awful goes away, but there's bright light in his eyes, a sun shining through the window that's far too high for morning, and all at once, Jim feels the early hours coming back to him.

He'd woken up, pulled on a henley over the goofy onesie pajamas, yanked his door open in search of breakfast and then bam, Bones in a bank robber bandana and a spray of something somehow both cold and hot in his face, followed by the sudden slam of his own shoulders as they restruck the bed. And then nothing.

"Dghed muh," Jim mutters in outrage as he tries and fails to sit up. That grumpy, sadistic fucker, he, "Dosed me," says Jim with more success this time. He turns his head and glares at the whirling gadget by his head, presumably the steampunked Old West version of a heart monitor.

"You suck," he tells it as hatefully as he can. "Hate you. Hate Bones."

Comments

[leftwithmybones]

He's been busy getting water, food, and recording results for this. The next time, he'll make sure to do this where Jess is present so they can double their productivity. As it is, he nudges the door open with his foot, smiling cheerfully as he enters the room. "No, you don't," he replies. "And if you do hate me, you don't get the soup I made you," he says, setting the tray down on top of Jim's body carefully, going back to the annotated notes he's been making. "How're you feeling?"

[chasedthestars]

"Like ass," Jim replies with as much spite as he can muster when it feels like his thoughts are melting. He manages to shimmy just far enough that he can see over the top of the tray.

He's just as hungry now as he was this morning, and the soup smells amazing. Still, Jim makes himself pause before shoving the spoon into it, aiming a suspicious look up at Bones. He looks far too fucking cheerful to be trusted.

"Are there drugs in this?"

[leftwithmybones]

Len writes that down, underlining 'like ass' twice because he feels like it's pertinent scientific information, and gives Jim an apologetic smile, leaning down to co-opt the spoon and eat two large spoonfuls of the soup he spent an hour making. He makes a point of tipping his chin up so that Jim can see him swallowing. "What do you think?" is his reply.

[chasedthestars]

Jim frowns - it feels like he's processing thoughts through a wet dish cloth, but he's pretty sure even Bones wouldn't build up an immunity to something just to drug him. No, he'd just hypo him right in the face, case in point.

"That your cooking is your saving grace," he grumbles, reclaiming the silverware and scooping out an unsteady spoonful. He gets more on his chin than in his mouth and scowls again. "When you said I was gonna be a lab rat, I thought you meant in the lab. What the hell was that stuff, Bones? My head is killing me."

[leftwithmybones]

"That's one of the first versions of the aerosol sedative," he says, but he's not proud of it yet. There's still too much he has to toy and tinker with. Len pays careful attention to Jim's reactions, reaching out with a napkin to dab at the dribbled soup before he presses the back of his palm to Jim's forehead, taking his temperature and noting it in the chart. "Jess and I are perfecting it and need I remind you that you earned this?"

[chasedthestars]

Jim's scowl deepens, and though he accepts the hand on his forehead, he does his best to squirm away from the napkin that precedes it.

"Well, I think it worked," he says, resolving to install a peephole in his bedroom door as soon as his hands obey him. "Are you gonna ninja me every time, or do I get a warning next round?"

[leftwithmybones]

"Why the hell would I warn you?" is all Len has to ask. "I mean, come on, if I warn you, then the results aren't controlled and any scientist will tell you that the most important part of any hypothesis is the lab environment." Besides, he'll probably let Jessica do it next time. Hell, he'll even let her wear the costume, if she wants. "The effects'll wear off soon. I designed it to be a short-lived knockout. Just long enough to move someone in pain or to escape a threat."

[chasedthestars]

"Combat sedatives," says Jim, "that's just dirty, especially when a good right hook will do the trick just fine." He is a little intrigued, though. If they could make one for fingertips somehow, Spock won't have the nervepinch on him anymore, the tricky bastard.

"We can practice when I feel better," he adds with a none too innocent smile.

[leftwithmybones]

"That's not exactly the original purpose," he has to admit, given that the sedative is supposed to be an alternative to mace and he'll let Jim practice that over his dead body. "But, sure, yeah, you can go practice on Jess, see how far you get." Actually, it might feel good to watch her wipe the floor with Jim, then he'd feel guilty, so maybe it's not so good.

[chasedthestars]

"M'not practicing anything on a teenager," grumbles Jim around his first successful mouthful of soup. "The next one'll give me less of a headache, right? Put less of the headache stuff in it."

[leftwithmybones]

"Why, because she'd kick your ass?" he asks with the faintest hint of a smug smirk on his face. He adjusts the bowl carefully, making sure that Jim's not about to spill it all over himself. "And, honestly, it could just be your unique physiology giving you the headache. Eventually, I'll test it on myself, but for now, you're going to cope with the pain. I'll get you a painkiller though, okay?" he promises, reaching out to give the muscles of his neck one firm squeeze to check on the tension before he scribbles a couple more notes.

[chasedthestars]

Jim visibly deflates when he realizes that squeeze was made in the name of science and not in the name of making him feel better. He pokes despondently at the soup.

"Being unique's supposed to be a good thing. Why does nobody care about snowflakes anymore? Hey Bones?" he adds, seemingly without missing a beat, "Does being sedated make me stupider?"

[leftwithmybones]

God, he wishes he were feeling mean enough to reply to that with a jab, but Jim's been good enough to go along with this experiment. He puts aside his notebook and shifts a little closer, one hand on the bowl to keep it from spilling and the other on the bed to keep him vertical. "It might be delaying some of your neural relays," he admits. "Just a little like being drunk. Why, Jim, you feeling thick?"

[chasedthestars]

"Kinda goofy," Jim admits, though his head is feeling clearer all the time. He perks up at the sight of Lesovik peering at the through the door, but instead of leaping on the bed, the dog seems to recognize them for the crazy people they are and heads back into the kitchen. It reminds Jim of something, though, something he'd meant to ask Bones over breakfast.

"Have you ever been camping?"

[leftwithmybones]

He tries not to smile at Jim's situation, considering he's the one who put him in that situation. "Yeah, I've been camping," he agrees, pushing Jim's hair off his forehead as carefully as he can. "Why? Have you got an urge to head out into the great wild yonder?"

[chasedthestars]

"Kind of." Jim takes another mouthful of soup, lips pursed thoughtfully around the spoon. "I was thinking we could take Max. He doesn't have any folks here, and the way this place changes is bad enough on us, it's gotta be hell on a kid. But if we go camping, maybe he could at least get some good memories out of it."

[leftwithmybones]

"You want to take a camping trip?" he echoes, faintly bemused, but not entirely contrary to the idea. After all, he's done it a couple of times before and it's not been the worst experience in the world. "Sure," he says, with a shrug. "Hell, why not? I can cook some beans, bring along some adult-drinks," he adds wryly.

[chasedthestars]

Jim snorts. "He's nine, and not exactly the type to go to bed early. We may not have a chance to drink."

He drops his gaze, adding with a wobbly shrug he doesn't feel, "I scared him, too, going into dino territory. Figure I owe you both."

[leftwithmybones]

"You owe me a hell of a lot more than camping," he says evenly, feeling like he's not going big enough with the emotions that are involved in that kind of statement. "Also, now you owe me twice," he feels compelled to point out, brows lifting heavily. "And yes, I'm keeping track."

[chasedthestars]

"Do you see me trying to cheat you?" Jim replies, waving over his own only newly conscious form. "Consider this headache my first deposit," he adds, then looks up. "How many times do you think it's gonna take, by the way?"

[leftwithmybones]

"You do not seem to be trying to wriggle your way out of it, no," Len admits, a bit pleased about that fact. Hell, it's not like he even thought Jim would seriously go along with this, but here they are. "Hopefully, no more than four? If it does, I've lost my ability to claim I'm a decent medical scientist, anymore."

[chasedthestars]

"If it does," counters Jim, "I'm replacing the M.D. with sadist. But four." He leans back against his pillow. "I can deal with four. I'll just think of it as...a danger hangover. Times four."

[leftwithmybones]

"Aw, Jim, you haven't already," he replies, pressing his palm over his heart as if he's about to swoon or something worse. "Look at this, I'm touched, I'm real touched," he drawls lazily, ruffling Jim's hair as he grins. It's been a long time since he felt as warm and easy as he does, the kind of feeling that's abandoned him when he kept losing and losing more people. "And don't worry, next time, it just might leave you with pork hands all over again."

[chasedthestars]

"Medical research makes you way too cheerful," says Jim, though he doesn't pull away. "You grin any harder and you're gonna look like the Joker. And over me having pork hands. Maybe I will call you a sadist."

[leftwithmybones]

"Oh, come on, it was the most interesting reaction I've ever seen to something that should've had a fairly cut-and-dry reaction," he protests, a breathless laugh doing its best to come out. "Hell, I'm a little upset we were too busy to take pictures and samples to document it. You could've even helped to create a vaccine. I would've even named it after you."