Apr. 9th, 2011

lovely_ambition: (sam/josh: by sarken)
They've been in worse situations than this. As McCoy's handler (or his partner, now that McCoy is more than just an asset), they've seen rougher times, but with six guns in their direction and McCoy sweating bullets, Jim is starting to get the feeling he should have packed more heat.

"Bones," Jim gets out through his gritted teeth. "Anytime you wanna flash, now."

"It's not like pulling up a memory," Bones snaps back, his voice wavering anxiously. "The Intersect doesn't just take commands." He keeps searching through his synapses for something to fire and Jim's grip on the knife in his hands tightens. If something doesn't happen soon, then he's in deep shit.

Jim has always trusted McCoy.

Ever since the first time they met, through Bones' obvious falling for Jim, through to this moment in which Jim is starting to suspect that the feelings aren't so one-sided, there's always been trust.

"We're not going to die," Jim promises. "Trust me, Bones. You can do it. For me."

Something he's said does the trick because Bones goes from the nervous-sweaty-guy to the one that's kicking everyone's asses and Jim only needs to take down two of the six would-be-assassins before they're all dropped to the ground.

"See?" Jim says brightly, even though his heart is still pounding. "Nothing to worry about."

Which is pointless to say to a man like McCoy, where worrying comes like second nature.


lovely_ambition: (Default)

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