Bones was used to frequent rough days at work. He didn't exactly enjoy it when his patients claimed they knew what to do over what he remanded, or when their significant others demanded to see them past visitation hours. Humanity in general just gave Bones a giant fucking headache.

So when Bones went back to his dorm room he expected to be able to flop over into his bed and pass out until the next afternoon.

Of course his obnoxious roommate would make sure the exact opposite happened.

Jim was curled up in the corner of his respective bed, staring at the wall with a pathetic look on his face, wrapped up in a blanket.

There was no way he could just ignore the kid and go to sleep. He sighed, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it to his bed. "You alright?"

"Fine," was Jim's reply, which implied that he was most certainly not fine.

Bones was having none of it. "You can tell me what happened and I can try to help, or I'll give you a hypo so I can go to sleep."

Instead of replying, Jim flopped over onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and mumbling incoherently. It didn't have the desired effect of Bones leaving him alone; instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and rested a hand on his back. "Jim. Use your words."

After a few moments Jim rolled onto his side, still not meeting the older man's gaze. "I watched a scary movie, that's all."

"What movie?"

Jim paused significantly. "An old one, Evil Dead. It... I didn't even watch the whole thing. That bad."

Eventually Jim sat up, the realization that Bones actually felt sorry for him finally getting through his terrified, thick skull. Bones wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a comforting gesture, which led to Jim completely sprawling out against Bones, knocking them both over into the sheets in some sort of cuddling manner.

That headache was getting to him, now, but like hell was he going to leave the kid be like this.

"Didn't think you'd be phased by scary movies," he quipped eventually.

Jim frowned, laying his head on Bones' chest and closing his eyes. "I know. Not the type. The great Jim Kirk can do anything."

Silence fell over the two, and Bones would've assumed Jim had fallen asleep if he didn't keep tracing patterns into his arm. It was surprisingly comfortable to just lay there, let his eyes close, keep his arms tight around the poor kid. Jim almost looked peaceful, which was strange, given that the Jim Kirk he knew was a spontaneous ball of energy that could be stopped by nothing and no one. He knew that there was a more vulnerable side to him, it was that way with everyone. Never had he had the chance to witness it.

It almost reminded him of his daughter waking up from nightmares, or asking him to shoo away monsters. He'd done it without hesitation, held her and rocked her back and forth, threatened the invisible monsters that lurked in her room. Maybe that's why he was able to comfort Jim so easily.

Except he knew that he definitely didn't think of Jim as a son.

It wasn't until he heard a little girl say rather enthusiastically, "You got it, dude," that Bones realized Jim had stopped drawing invisible pictures on his arm and was instead watching century old reruns of Full House. It was his comfort show, so to speak. Bones scooted back on Jim's bed, sitting up and hauling Jim with him. He kept his arm firmly around Jim's waist, but otherwise didn't disturb him from his Full House.

He'd admit, it was a good show. Uplifting, to say the least. A good thing to watch after having the shit scared out of you. Or after coming home from a bad day at work.

It wasn't until the opening credits of the third episode that Bones spoke up. "You doing alright, kid?"

Jim lifted his head from where it had settled on Bones' shoulder. "Yeah."

Bones tried to smile at him, but the fact was that he didn't smile too often, and it came out awkwardly, to the point where Jim couldn't help snorting. It earned him a rough smack on the arm.

The episode had begun by now, but Jim was too busy feeling good, actually smiling for the first time since he'd turned off Evil Dead, to pay much attention. He was so used to playing off his fear, or grief, or any similar emotion, that he wanted to revel in actual happiness while it was around.

He leaned forward a little, waiting for Bones to tense up or move away from him, to show any sign of discomfort. Instead Bones closed the distance between them, brushing his lips gently against Jim's. It only lasted for a split second, but then Jim lifted a hand and knotted it in Bones' hair, pressing his lips firmly against his, into which Bones immediately melted.

They remained that way for a long moment, sharing light kisses, while Full House hummed innocently in the background. That was, until the sounds of the old show disappeared along with any innocence in the atmosphere.

No, Jim was no son of his. He was a little bit more than that.