Leonard chuckled at that, shaking his head. "Alright, Captain. If you so insist," he said in a somewhat teasing tone, although he was honestly thrilled by the thought. Not just actual shore leave on Earth and getting to go home to visit his family, but also getting to spend that time with Jim. Maybe he'd drag him around a little, visit other places— at the very least it should keep him entertained, and stop him from burying his head into work yet again.
He got a small cooking pot from his backpack as well, then opened both cans and poured them in. Some quick and easy meal with meat and vegetables, but it did look good, despite it coming from a can (and from a replicator). He had to set up a few larger logs on top so he could place the pot over the fire without it getting too hot to grab with a cloth.
"Well, I do have to stir it," he admitted with a half-shrug. Hell, if it made Jim happy, did he really care what they were calling it?
Was it burying himself in work or was it being dedicated to his job? Semantics. Though, all right, maybe he was starting to develop a crick in his neck, and it was nice looking at some other color besides the electric blue of a holo-screen. And the idea of wine with Bones, out beneath Earth's midnight sky... it was enticing, to say the least.
With their meal set to heating up, muscles warm from their hike and belly getting there from the drink, he made himself comfortable beside Bones, leaning against him.
"I'll make breakfast for you, on our Earth R&R," he promised him, tilting is head so his chin rested on Bones' shoulder. "It's my specialty you know."
It was absolutely burying himself in work, but he knew he didn't have to tell Jim that. They were both a little guilty of it anyway, to varying degrees and at different occasions, but it was good to remind themselves to pull the other away from that every once in a while. Lord knew they both could be stubborn as hell about stepping away from work.
He glanced over at Jim, a little surprised to feel his chin rest on his shoulder, but he said nothing to that. Just looking back to the fire, looking into the pot while he waited for the food to start heating up. "Yeah? And what do you call 'specialty', hot coffee and a couple toasts? I don't think that counts as cookin'."
He was just teasing Jim, really. Though he was admittedly honest, as he had no idea whether Jim could even cook anything.
"Hey, toast is more difficult than people think. All it takes is a single moment—" he snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. "And it's burnt! Overdone! Burnt might work on a chip, but not on toast."
He shook his head and nudged Bones gently with his elbow, but didn't remove himself from his spot half-cuddled into the man.
"My speciality, if you must know... is pancakes," he declared after a sufficiently dramatic pause (because what is James T. Kirk without a little bit of drama?).
Leonard let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You can dial back on the dramatics. I won't argue on the complexities of toast yet again."
For now, he started stirring their canned dinner, which was thankfully much easier to manage than (apparently) toast. All he had to do was heat it up and serve it.
"Mm... I'll take you up on those pancakes, then," he hummed, glancing over at Jim and finding him very— close and cuddled up. He did seem comfortable, and Leonard didn't have the heart to tell him to move. "Gotta check if they're anywhere as good as you claim them to be."
He considered the fact he might be invading Bones' space, but Bones was not pushing him away and if he was particularly honest, well, he needed this. He needed all of this, but mostly this. Being a Captain had turned out to be a little more lonely than he had imagined. It was not that he was without friends, obviously, but he was set apart from everyone to a certain degree. Being able to be close like this wasn't something he got to do often, and he quietly relished and the fact he had someone who would let him do so.
"But of course. But you know I am a man of my word - they're delicious," he smiled, taking a cursory sniff of their dinner, curious. "I could have won at a country fair with those pancakes."
It didn't feel like an invasion of personal space, not from Jim. It was a little reminiscent of their Academy years, honestly, when Jim liked to just show up wherever and hang off his shoulder, even when he visited him at the infirmary the first few months he was Captain, before his posture began to change into something more responsible and professional. Leonard missed it, he realized now as he felt that familiar weight on his shoulder. But of course he understood why it couldn't continue, despite how little Jim (and even himself) would have cared for gossip and talk.
"Easy there, farm boy," he huffed with a joking laugh. He pulled the food from the fire, serving it into two bowls so it would be easier for them to eat. "People are gonna start picturing among piles of hay and nice old ladies linin' up to kiss your cheek."
He handed one of the bowls to Jim, along with a spoon. "Here, and careful. It's hot."
"I mean, you're not far off," he accepted the bowl, shivering as the warmth seeped into his fingers. "Except hay isn't kept in piles, it's kept in bales if a farmer knows what's good for them. And old ladies have kissed my cheek because once I somehow got suckered into being part of the kissing booth team."
He had been younger and not quite so much a trouble maker yet. After his incident with the car and his growing list of mischief making occurrences, well, less old nice ladies had been interested in kissing his cheek. Which, honestly, was not much of a loss.
"What were you doing in your youth? Swimmin' down by the crick?" he asked, putting on his best Southern American accent and smirking around his first spoonful at Bones.
That got a genuine laugh out of Leonard, grin bright enough to make his eyes wrinkle at the corners. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Farmboy. I'll be sure to update my vernacular as to not offend your delicate Midwest sensibilities in the future."
The rest just made Leonard smile wider in amusement. Just the thought of Jim sitting in a kissing booth with a band of ladies all lined up to get their kiss was enough to lift his spirits. He had a feeling Jim would garner the attention of more than just old ladies if he were to man a kissing booth now, though.
"Least we had cricks," he mocked with a nudge of his foot against Jim's, eyes rolling as he stirred his own food, so it'd cool quicker. "Not like in that damn Middle-of-nowhere you come from, where it's so dry my duck don’t know how to swim. Bet you folks wouldn't know a damn body of water if it bit you in the backside."
Kirk jerked his head, batting at his chest to work at the cough that swelled as food threatened to go down the wrong pipe. He managed to get it down, and the coughing turned into a ragged laugh before descending into a full-bellied thing.
"That is possibly the most country-southern thing I have ever heard you say, and that includes the time I was apparently alluded to as a prize stallion."
Jim's reaction admittedly surprised him a little, if only for how exaggerated it seemed to be; but he knew it was just how Jim was, and to be fair his own answer had been purposefully over the top too, so he couldn't talk much.
Still, he was pleased to hear Jim laugh, his own lips curled into a more restrained smile, eyes falling to his food instead of staring at Jim like a fool.
"Well, you liked actin' like one, that's for certain. Prancin' around the Academy like you did," he grumbled. "And I am country-Southern, you should've known what to expect by now."
Overblown? Maybe. But it felt like such a long time since he had felt the freedom to laugh like that, to just let an emotional bubble up and burst out and not worry about whatever impression he was making.
"You mean like I still do, except I get to do it with a ship and not a simulation?" he shook his head around the last huffs of laughter, partaking of a few more bites of soup before it got to cold. He nudged him with his shoulder again and winked. "I'm glad you decided to hitch your wagon to this horse then, gentle sir. Makes a stallion hold his head a little bit higher."
Well, whatever got Jim to smile and laugh like that. God knows he didn't see it often enough, when Jim slipped into his uniform.
He let out a soft groan, eyes rolling and shaking his head. "Lord, that goddamned test you kept taking. Don't even remind me." To this day, he was sure that Spock still held a small grudge for what Jim had pulled. But only a tiny little one by now. "An' don't make those sorts of comparisons, It's gonna scar my brain for life."
"You started it by calling me that in the first place," he countered. "You really should choose your words more wisely when describing me," he smirked, taking a few bites of his stew and adopting the most angelic face one has ever seen. Well, on Kirk anyways (angelic was a relative term for him at the best of times was it not?).
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He got a small cooking pot from his backpack as well, then opened both cans and poured them in. Some quick and easy meal with meat and vegetables, but it did look good, despite it coming from a can (and from a replicator). He had to set up a few larger logs on top so he could place the pot over the fire without it getting too hot to grab with a cloth.
"Well, I do have to stir it," he admitted with a half-shrug. Hell, if it made Jim happy, did he really care what they were calling it?
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With their meal set to heating up, muscles warm from their hike and belly getting there from the drink, he made himself comfortable beside Bones, leaning against him.
"I'll make breakfast for you, on our Earth R&R," he promised him, tilting is head so his chin rested on Bones' shoulder. "It's my specialty you know."
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He glanced over at Jim, a little surprised to feel his chin rest on his shoulder, but he said nothing to that. Just looking back to the fire, looking into the pot while he waited for the food to start heating up. "Yeah? And what do you call 'specialty', hot coffee and a couple toasts? I don't think that counts as cookin'."
He was just teasing Jim, really. Though he was admittedly honest, as he had no idea whether Jim could even cook anything.
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He shook his head and nudged Bones gently with his elbow, but didn't remove himself from his spot half-cuddled into the man.
"My speciality, if you must know... is pancakes," he declared after a sufficiently dramatic pause (because what is James T. Kirk without a little bit of drama?).
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For now, he started stirring their canned dinner, which was thankfully much easier to manage than (apparently) toast. All he had to do was heat it up and serve it.
"Mm... I'll take you up on those pancakes, then," he hummed, glancing over at Jim and finding him very— close and cuddled up. He did seem comfortable, and Leonard didn't have the heart to tell him to move. "Gotta check if they're anywhere as good as you claim them to be."
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"But of course. But you know I am a man of my word - they're delicious," he smiled, taking a cursory sniff of their dinner, curious. "I could have won at a country fair with those pancakes."
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"Easy there, farm boy," he huffed with a joking laugh. He pulled the food from the fire, serving it into two bowls so it would be easier for them to eat. "People are gonna start picturing among piles of hay and nice old ladies linin' up to kiss your cheek."
He handed one of the bowls to Jim, along with a spoon. "Here, and careful. It's hot."
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He had been younger and not quite so much a trouble maker yet. After his incident with the car and his growing list of mischief making occurrences, well, less old nice ladies had been interested in kissing his cheek. Which, honestly, was not much of a loss.
"What were you doing in your youth? Swimmin' down by the crick?" he asked, putting on his best Southern American accent and smirking around his first spoonful at Bones.
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The rest just made Leonard smile wider in amusement. Just the thought of Jim sitting in a kissing booth with a band of ladies all lined up to get their kiss was enough to lift his spirits. He had a feeling Jim would garner the attention of more than just old ladies if he were to man a kissing booth now, though.
"Least we had cricks," he mocked with a nudge of his foot against Jim's, eyes rolling as he stirred his own food, so it'd cool quicker. "Not like in that damn Middle-of-nowhere you come from, where it's so dry my duck don’t know how to swim. Bet you folks wouldn't know a damn body of water if it bit you in the backside."
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"That is possibly the most country-southern thing I have ever heard you say, and that includes the time I was apparently alluded to as a prize stallion."
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Still, he was pleased to hear Jim laugh, his own lips curled into a more restrained smile, eyes falling to his food instead of staring at Jim like a fool.
"Well, you liked actin' like one, that's for certain. Prancin' around the Academy like you did," he grumbled. "And I am country-Southern, you should've known what to expect by now."
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"You mean like I still do, except I get to do it with a ship and not a simulation?" he shook his head around the last huffs of laughter, partaking of a few more bites of soup before it got to cold. He nudged him with his shoulder again and winked. "I'm glad you decided to hitch your wagon to this horse then, gentle sir. Makes a stallion hold his head a little bit higher."
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He let out a soft groan, eyes rolling and shaking his head. "Lord, that goddamned test you kept taking. Don't even remind me." To this day, he was sure that Spock still held a small grudge for what Jim had pulled. But only a tiny little one by now. "An' don't make those sorts of comparisons, It's gonna scar my brain for life."
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