"Don't chase the rabbit"
iii.
Bones is drawing out integral equations on his PADD, humming ‘American Pie’ under his breath, which is stuck firmly in his head for whatever reason. He’d thrown a fit when they told him his Calculus credit somehow hadn’t come through from Miss, but hell, it’s an easy class, at least. He knows Calculus.
The door slides open, and Jim strides in, throws himself onto the bed without so much as a hi and with no concern as to how Bones is already spread out on it.
"Good afternoon to you, too, Iowa," he says absently, and gets a grunt in return. "If my feet go numb because you’re lying on my knees, I’m holding you responsible for the concussion I’ll probably get when I try to stand up."
"Bones—"
"—still not my name—"
"—college is boring. And you answer to it, so it works."
Bones ignores that last part, and ignores the fact that he thinks of himself with that stupid nickname, sometimes. It’s been three months, how can he possibly be attached? ”College is fun,” he replies, “you just have the course load of a workaholic—”
"Go back to your integrals, Bones. I don’t need a lecture about how to have fun from a guy doing Calculus on Friday night."
"How’d you know—?"
"You hum when you do Calculus and I have a friend in your class who was complaining about the work earlier."
"Shut up. Go back to groaning." Jim lies face-down across his legs for about a half an hour before Bones speaks again. ”How the hell did you get in? I changed the door code this morning.”
"You ran out of other people’s birthdays to use the last time you changed them. It’s yours. Obvious, Bones." He turns over, stretches, sits up. "Put away the equations, Dr. McCoy. We’re going out."
"Jim, I have shift—"
"—tomorrow afternoon."
"Did you hack the clinic schedules?" A moment’s pause. "Of course you hacked the clinic schedules. Why am I friends with you?"
Jim’s grin is boyish. "I'm cute."
