It was rare for Jim to wake up before Bones, and even rarer for him to wake up before their alarm, yet here he was waking up with a stretch of his lithe body.

He slumped against McCoy’s side, legs tangling back into their place and left arm circling underneath the other man’s waist while his right hand splayed over his naked chest. Bones remained asleep, no doubt exhausted from the recent intake of patients from the rescued ship.

Turquoise eyes soaked in the tanned body, dusts of freckles, and curls of dark hair. He slowly trailed a hand up to McCoy’s, pressing his fingers softly against the sleeping doctor’s.

Long fingers of natural born skill were warm and pliant. They were pale appendages that created life, could take away life;  that healed, fixed, and repaired without a second thought. Always  clenching with anxiety and pressure and life.

Jim’s eyes rose to search McCoy’s slumbering face, his lengthy eyelashes resting softly on his cheeks and plush, deep rose colored mouth slightly agape. The first dusky orange rays of sunlight filtered into the room and washed over their intertwined bodies, casting them in a halo of light. 

Perfect morning,’ Jim thought hazily as he let his eyes flutter closed, hand still clasping McCoy’s.

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