Disclaimer: not mine and all that.

"Christ, kid." Bones knelt by Jim in an off-campus alley. The kid was on his hands and knees, puking his guts out. He was fairly quiet about it, only gagging every few splashes.

The offending bar was only yards away. Fluorescent lights flashed from the outside sign, casting the two of them in a red glow. Each flicker was accompanied by a buzzing sound.

Bones distantly wondered how many other patrons had expelled warm, acidic beer from their guts in this very alley. He shifted slightly, trying not to touch anything. The doctor in him grimaced. With the smell of stale urine and fresh vomit permeating the air, the stuffy bar was looking pretty good. There was also a stain on the far wall that looked suspiciously like semen. Bones couldn't stop glancing at it.

Jim was oblivious and past the point of caring about his environment. Poor kid probably didn't even remember where he was.

Patting his back in an awkward gesture of comfort, Bones reflected that although they'd only met last week on the shuttle, Jim had grown on him rather quickly. Maybe it was because the kid had obviously been just as down on his luck. Or maybe it was because they'd both enlisted at the last minute and were thrown together as roommates. Whatever the reason, Bones felt a sense of protectiveness toward this moron cadet hell bent on self-destruction.

An exhausted panting interrupted his thoughts. Jim made a move to stand, though he ended up falling against and clawing his way up the alley wall. For a moment, he just leaned there, gulping down the crisp autumn air.

"I hate to add insult to injury, kid," Bones said, rising to his feet. "But your leather jacket may never be clean again."

Jim bent his head with a chuckle, looking down long enough to take in the splatters of blood, beer, and various other fluids. He shrugged and responded with a slurred, "Hazard of having fun."

"Is that what you call a fight?"

"Hey, I won," Jim's eyebrows rose defensively. "This isn't even my blood. You should see me on a bad night."

"Maybe I will someday, idiot." Bones moved forward to grab an arm. "It was only a punch to the stomach that forced me to drag you into this alley before you got us banned from the bar. If one punch takes you down, I'd hate to see you on the receiving end of a-"

At that moment, Jim decided to fall on his face. The kid didn't pitch forward. He simply crumpled to the ground. One second he was standing – the next, he was curled up in a puddle. A puddle of his own… previously ingested beer.

"Damn it," Bones muttered. He knelt by the kid (who looked more like a kid now that he was passed out) and shook his shoulder. There was no response. Bones didn't really expect one at this stage in the game. Even with Jim's stomach contents on the ground beneath him, he'd been tossing back shots like it was his last night on earth. Which wouldn't be for a while yet, as they'd only just started classes.

No amount of grumbling could make Jim wake up. But damn it if Bones didn't try. He finally sighed and hoisted a limp arm around his shoulders.

Joints popped as he forced himself to stand. Supporting the extra weight made him pant with effort and promptly regret it.

Jim reeked. He was also soaked to the skin, at least where his leather jacket hadn't protected him.

The kid lolled his head against Bones' shoulder and tried to crack a smile. Bones was pretty sure his own lips curled in disgust.

"You need a bath."

"I'm more of a shower kinda guy."

How they managed to make it into a taxi and up the dorm stairs, Bones would never know. His back was yelling his age with every step. It made him feel utterly ridiculous for going out to a bar, of all places. He was a doctor, damn it. He wasn't in college anymore. Even when he was, he'd always end up the goddamn babysitter for those who couldn't hold their liquor.

Some things never changed.

The second they crossed the threshold, Jim greeted their empty room with a, "Lucy, I'm hoooommee!"

Interesting.

Bones kicked the door shut behind them and flicked on the lights to reveal two parallel beds. Off to the left, and most important at the moment, was a bathroom door. Most dorm rooms weren't equipped with a private bathroom, but since he was training to be a medical officer and the med dorms were full, he'd been put up in one of the nicer cadet dorms with Jim. Whatever. Anything beat living with his ex-wife.

"Try not to touch anything," Bones muttered, dragging Jim toward the bathroom. He'd be damned if their room smelled like vomit for the next week. There was enough of that stench at the hospital.

The kid mumbled something incomprehensible in response, followed by a laugh that suggested he'd made a dirty joke.

There was a groan of protest in Bones' ear when he flicked on the bathroom lights. Could hardly blame him. The lights reflected off the white tile in a way that rendered eyelids virtually useless.

"You're due for a bath. Or shower," Bones gruffly ordered. "Whatever you call it, you don't get to collapse in your own vomit and then crawl into bed."

He sat the kid on the edge of the tub, keeping a hand on his shoulder so he wouldn't topple over and crack his head. It seemed like something Jim would do, given the chance. No sense of coordination or balance, this one.

A sharp pull of the spout got the water running. Nice and hot too. Bones blinked hard, suddenly mindful of the time and how nice it would be to crawl into his own soft, awaiting bed. Steam rose from the bath and it seemed to be lulling Jim to sleep.

"Wake up." Bones gave the kid's shoulder a rough shake.

"Hey," was the slurred response. "Keep it down, will you?"

"Oh, no. If I need to stay awake for this, so do you. Strip and get in the tub."

"Huh?"

Bones took a deep breath to keep his patience in check and tried to keep his words simple. "You. Stink. Bath." He peeled off Jim's leather jacket and tossed it into the corner, where it landed with a wet smack.

Then he lifted the hem of Jim's shirt before the kid could be even more of a pain in the ass. It was slightly concerning how disoriented he was, but drunks weren't known for their speed, reasoning, or logic. Tapping into what remained of his bedside manner, Bones tried to treat the kid like a patient with a brain injury. Which probably wasn't too far from the truth.

A yawn of epic proportions escaped as Jim unbuttoned his own pants. He said something, but Bones didn't speak Yawn. Complaint, complaint, complaint was all he heard.

The mirror had steamed up by the time the tub was full. Bones turned off the water and waited for the kid to finish undressing, casually averting his gaze. He'd seen it all as a doctor, but it was different when "some naked guy" was also your roommate.

Yeah. Things could get awkward real damn fast.

There were a series of plops when Jim settled himself into the bath water and a light tap when his head leaned against the tile.

Bones knew the kid would fall asleep. It was unavoidable. Take a muscle relaxant like alcohol and mix it with soothing hot water, and voila: cooperative roommate.

Hey, it was better than the alternative. Belligerent drunks were impossible. Too often than not, Bones found that he didn't have the patience for them. Voila: unconscious drunk and an empty hypo in the doctor's hand.

This was natural and convenient.

Bones rolled up his sleeves. Reaching for a washcloth with a half-hearted glance of annoyance, he wet it and gently massaged it with a bar of soap to work up a lather. A fresh scent drifted into the air. It was a welcome respite from the sour smells clinging to Jim's clothes where they were heaped in the corner.

He replaced the bar of soap in its holder and glanced up to make sure the kid still had his head above the water. His brow was furrowed, lips moving without sound. Whatever he was dreaming about wasn't pleasant.

Ghosting his washcloth-covered hand over Jim's body was a fairly intimate process, but Bones tried to remain professional and distant. Part of him didn't understand why, while the other half understood perfectly. He was bathing his roommate and that was all there was to it. No amount of thought restraint would change that. On the other hand, it really wasn't his place to be doing this. They hadn't known one another long enough for it to even begin to be his place, doctor or no doctor. And somehow it seemed that a bit of professionalism would make up for that.

Not that Jim seemed to mind. He was still out cold when the water was more warm than hot, and foggy with soap.

Bones pulled the tub's plug and watched the water slowly recede around Jim's rib cage. He'd taken some powerful blows for sure, but nothing severely damaging. Those bruises should fade in a few days. Hell, maybe they would remind him to be more careful next time.

Rising to his feet and grabbing a towel, Bones stood over the prone form of his roommate and considered how to proceed. Hmmm. He started simply, drying Jim's front while he was still in the tub. Then he laid the towel on the bathroom floor and got behind Jim as much as possible, his rear on the lip of the tub. If he leaned just so, he could slip his arms behind and under the kid's shoulders. And heave.

Bones didn't take a breath until Jim was safely laying on the towel. Damn, the man was heavier than he looked.

The hard part was over. From here, it was only a matter of sitting Jim up, drying his back, and letting everything else take care of itself.

"There," Bones mumbled with satisfaction as he dragged Jim to his bed. "You're a walking ad for Axe."

No response. But the frown lines on the kid's face seemed to have melted away.

Raising an eyebrow as he hauled him onto the mattress, Bones thought it was almost a shame to grace the wrinkled, unkempt sheets with the squeaky clean form of his roommate. He walked to the dresser and dug out some sweats to save him some dignity in the morning. It only took two swift pulls before the gray sweatpants were securely on Jim's hips. One toss of the covers later, he was safely tucked into bed.

If Bones didn't know better, he would've guessed they hadn't gone out at all. Jim had a habit of collapsing half on top of the covers after a night out. Pretty much every night thus far. Now, he looked almost normal. How you'd expect a kid to fall asleep.

Bones rubbed his eyes before stripping down to his boxers and climbing into bed. The faint scent of bar still clung to him, but he could shower in the morning.

He wondered if Jim would remember anything. He wondered if he should bag and dump the pile of beer-stained clothing and claim to have no idea why Jim was dressed only in sweatpants. He wondered if a tricorder reading was necessary. Finally, he wondered why he was still thinking about this.

It was late. Too late to do anything but sleep.

"Oh," he mumbled, leaning back into his pillow. "The hell with it."