Title: Dropped Eaves Ficlet Fandom: Star Trek XI Rating: R, maybe Pairing: Kirk/McCoy; several others mentioned.

Summary: Jim wakes Leonard up to hear the music. Content Advisory: Eavesdropping, midnight conversation, schmoop All Thanks To: <lj comm="jim_and_bones"> (friendslocked to members) for abundantly inspiring pictures, <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/256827.ht ml?style=mine ">this one of a sleeping Karl Urban</a> that set fangirls' minds ablaze. <i>Disclaimer:</i> None of these characters or their settings belong to me. Author's Note: Just another ficlet to brighten the middle of the week. <lj-cut text="Leonard is sleeping comfortably..."> Leonard is sleeping comfortably, cradled in a wide warm bed and the knowledge that it rests in an actual building on actual Terrestrial ground, when soft lips press to his jaw. He pulls up just enough consciousness to hum in pleasure, and the kiss slides up along the curve of his ear; while it's nice, as are the hand slipping up under his shirt and the broad muscular chest pressed to his back, he's happily worn out and intends to stay asleep, so he bats a hand vaguely backwards, attempting to convey all of that in one noncommittal grunt. The soft lips on his ear give way to quick sharp teeth.

"<i>Jim!</i>" Leonard yelps, slinging his elbow ungently behind him. Jim winces a smidge, chuckles behind those wicked teeth, drapes one long leg over Leonard's thighs and hangs on. "Ow, dammit, I'm sleeping!" Not anymore, with Jim snuffling laughter in his ear and worrying it like a puppy; Leonard huffs the surrender he won't say, and Jim stops chewing, kissing the bite as he shoves Leonard flat onto his back and wiggles atop him. "Shh, Bones," Jim whispers, both hands under Leonard's shirt. "C'mon, listen." "I was listening to my dreams," Leonard points out, eyes firmly shut, groping for Jim's wrists, "and don't you tear this shirt, it's--" "Bones." Jim pulls a hand out, pressing it to Leonard's mouth faster than he should be able to move, "Listen to that." Leonard opens his mouth under Jim's fingers --- and stops because he hears, muffled by wood and plaster, a woman's alto shrieking. No, happy cursing - there's words in there, though he can't pick them out, but the voice's familiar. "Is that--?" <i>Orion Prime,</i> he meant to ask, but Jim whispers over his cheek, "Yup, Chapel. Can't hear Scotty anymore; when he started on about 'ample nacelles' I knew you had to hear this." Leonard's eyes pop open. Jim's smiling at him, nose to nose, before his gaze shifts up and tracks across. There's nothing above them but a dim ceiling and -- rhythmic scraping, low breathless grunts and what sounds like a muffled male voice, high and pleading. Leonard's face is starting to burn. He inhales, Jim

pushes two fingers into his mouth, and, well, they taste good. He sucks quietly, though, breathing shallowly along with Jim, chest pressed to chest as he recognizes Gaila's encouraging laughter meshed with Christine's voice -- that's definitely Orion Prime, though he can't make out the words -- and hears Chekov rip his mouth free, shouting enthusiastic guttural syllables, and is that Sulu frantically shushing him? The scuffing noise just speeds up, Chekov's swearing matching its rhythm. Leonard pushes Jim's hand away to mutter, "Oh Lord have mercy," and Jim grins ear-to-ear, cups his cheek with damp fingers and kisses him hard enough to tingle, just as a slightly more distant racket starts up, and if Leonard remembers correctly Spock took that westernmost room. Uhura's moans echo from that direction, deep and musical like she's singing, and Leonard's going to have to bite his cheek hard to look any of them in the face again. Especially Jim, propped on his chest and grinning cheekily. "Told you renting a house instead of a hotel would be awesome." Leonard tries for form's sake to glare. "I thought this shack was supposed to be --" "Retrofitted to modernize it? Mostly, yeah. But we're in the acoustic center of the upper floors. Sounds like everyone's caught up to us, huh?" "<i>Jim.</i>" Out of words, Leonard lifts his hands, resting them on Jim's broad shoulderblades.

Jim tilts his head, eyes gleaming through his lashes. "C'mon, let's make some noise." Leonard growls, because he can feel how much Jim likes it, and says only to not give in too easily, "I'm <i>sleeping</i>." "You've got another round in you, Bones," Jim answers with an utterly salacious eyebrow waggle and a maddening rock of his hips, "when you're really worn out that crease disappears." He pushes his thumb between Leonard's eyebrows, and there's something in his voice beneath the cheer. That crease was there long before Jim became Leonard's chief worry and joy. He kisses Jim's wrist and Jim laughs, and gets as far as, "Come here, you conniving, eavesdropping--" before Jim kisses the words right out of his mouth.