#lee!jim

The thing is, Bones couldn’t even count on two hands how many times he had reminded Jim about his vaccines over the past two weeks, repeatedly bringing it up in hopes that it would soften the blow when the appointment finally did roll around. Somehow, Jim still seemed oblivious about the appointment, despite Bones’ many reminders, and the signed consent forms that had arrived in Bones’ email minutes after he had sent them to Jim a week earlier. 

“Kid, you know those emails I send you about your appointments aren’t just to sit and look pretty in yer inbox, right?” Bones had teased, wincing when Jim flinched away from the fifth hypo, “they could’ve given you the rundown about this appointment, had you bothered to read ‘em.”

Jim was testy, and he sent Bones a warning glare, “I signed them, didn’t I?”

Bones had just rolled his eyes, deciding it might be best to engage in the conversation when Jim was a little less irritable, a little less vulnerable. 

It is protocol, on the Enterprise, for physicals to be done on a bi-annual basis, most of the crew not changing very much over the span of six months. Of course, the medbay is always open in the case of an emergency, but, for the sake of documentation, complete physicals happen twice a year. 

While most of the Enterprise gets along just fine with two physicals a year, their loyal captain has a long, non-exhaustive list of allergies, a new one springing up practically once a week, and a penchant for lying about injuries. As a result of their own stubborn captain, and other stubborn captains in the fleet, Bones managed to have a new protocol introduced into Starfleet regulations that required ship captains to have brief physicals bi-monthly. 

Bones, sick and tired of his best friend’s irritability and surprise when a new appointment would arise, despite his constant reminders and emails filled up with consent forms, decided that a lesson of sorts would be in order. Bones is Jim’s primary physician, of course, per request of the captain himself, but there might come a day when Bones’ schedule is filled, or he’s attending an off-ship medical conference, when Jim might have to see a different doctor. For the sake of himself, and any other doctor that might have the displeasure of seeing to Jim Kirk’s temperaments, Bones wanted to solidify to Jim how important it was to read his consent forms prior to signing. It’s not like they have to do with Jim’s immediate physical health or anything, right?

Two months later, when Jim’s next physical rolls around, he is begrudgingly dragged to the medbay, upset that he has to attend another appointment when he, “literally had one like a week ago.” 

This time, Bones has gone in a more old-fashioned direction. Bones has, waiting for him and Jim at his desk, a printed copy of Jim’s signed consent forms, his sloppy signature adorning the bottom of every last one. 

“Alright, Jimmy,” Bones says, motioning for Jim to hop up on the examination table, “I take it you read through the consent forms?”

Jim raises an annoyed eyebrow, physically fighting back the eyeroll, “I signed them, didn’t I?” 

“That you did,” Bones responds with a nod, “so you would know that today we are doing some sensitivity cataloging to use for reference in case of later injuries?”

Jim narrows his eyes, a light pink dusting his cheeks, “sensitivity training?”

“Yup,” Bones replies, popping the ‘p’, he shakes the forms in his hand, waving them in front of Jim, “every last detail written down on these forms.”

“Yeah,” Jim responds, nodding in an attempt to hide his surprise, “yeah, of course.” 

“Okay, in that case, let’s get started.” Bones opens the top drawer of his desk and pulls out a feather, placing it on the top of the desk, in plain sight of Jim. “So, would you like to start with rough touch or light touch? We’ve got to catalogue both,” Bones pauses to smile deviously at Jim, “you know, for the sake of thoroughness.” 

Jim’s cheeks are rapidly turning more and more pink as he squirms on the examination table, his eyes avoiding the feather at all cost. “I think I might actually have some business to tend to on the bridge, Bones. Isn’t my last physical enough for now?”

Bones grins, “don’t worry, Jim, it won’t hurt at all. Spock’s got the whole ‘captain act’ handled for a bit.”

Now, Jim openly glares at Bones, and Bones just feigns innocence, “you’re evil. I’m firing you, I’m having you sent to a patrol ship, or one of those garbage ships that collects space debris.”

“Sure you are, Jimmy, sure you are,” Bones chuckles, “so I guess rough it is?”

“Wait- no- I- Bohohones! Shihihit, dohohon’t!” Jim giggles, pushing back against Bone’s fingers digging into his sides, “stahahap!”

“No can do, doctor’s orders,” Bones replies, fighting against Jim’s struggling, “and you signed the forms, you should have known this was coming. I warned you, after all.” 

Jim shakes his head, squirming every which way until he eventually falls back, legs dangling off the side of the examination table as he shrieks in response to Bones’ fingers. 

“Alright, rough on your sides is a 5/10, I’d say,” Bones says out loud, as if truly recording Jim’s sensitivities for anything beyond his own lesson. 

“Shuhuhut uhhuhup!” Jim screeches, body jolting when Bones’ fingers move to his tummy, “nohoho! Thihihis ihihis soho duhuhumb!”

“Wow,” Bones feigns offense, “this is for your own sake, kid, and you should’ve known all about it given that I sent you all the information.” 

Jim’s laughter is loud and full by this point, chuckling hysterically as Bones pokes and prods all over his tummy. When Bones’ finger grazes the top of Jim’s belly button, he shrieks, unable to stop his own body from arching, inadvertently moving into the touch. 

“I think we might have found an outlier, should I catalogue your belly and belly button separately? Bones asks, spidering his fingers around the sensitive spot, “whadya think, kid? Or should we average the ticklishness of both spots and consider it one?”

“Bohones plehehease!” Jim squeals, desperately trying to push at Bones’ hands, “ihihim sorry!”

“I don’t think you are just yet, but I know you will be soon.”

Bones’ hands move up to Jim’s ribs and Jim screams, squirming so hard that Bones has to save him from falling right off the table. Jim’s fists weakly hit against Bones’ chest as he hiccups and snorts through his laughter, throwing his head back. 

“Ihihim sorry! Ihihim sohohorehehe! BOHONES!” 

“Alright, alright, I’m almost done, Jimmy, just one more spot and I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Bones relays, his fingers slowing on Jim’s ribs, “if I were less knowledgeable, I’d say that your ribs were a 10/10, but I’d say that was a solid 9.”

Jim pants, his entire face red up to his ears, too tired to fight back anymore. When Bones’ fingers scratch roughly into his shoulder blades, he feels as though he’s been electrified, ticklish energy flowing everywhere in his body, his laughter quickly goes silent, and he struggles against the half-hug thing that he and Bones are in, trying to break out of Bones’ hold. 

Bones smiles, incredibly endeared, and lets Jim go, his body slumping onto the table. “Now that, was the 10/10. So are we going to read our forms before signing them now?”

Jim is still giggling, twitching on the table and nodding eagerly, “yehehes, yehes, I wohohon’t doho it ahagain.”

Bones takes a playful step towards Jim, as if he’s going to strike again, and Jim shrieks, curling against the wall the examination table is pressed up against. 

“Alright, alright,” Bones reaches out and ruffles Jim’s hair, “you’re good to go, kid.” Bones eyes Jim, whose face is bright red, clothes ruffled, hair a mess, “but maybe wait until you’re less red to join your crew.”

"Gah!" Jim landed hard on his side, the impact sending a reverberating ache through him. He and Claire were training in the Hero's Forge, trying to sharpen his skills. He hadn't been getting the best sleep as of late, pulling all nighters to study and do homework. As a result, he was slower, and blows hit him twice as hard.

Claire came over to his side. "Jim, I think we should take a break. It's been two hours, and you look half dead." He just shook his head, pushing himself off the hard stone floor. "No, I need to get better. Arcadia is depending on me, so I need to be at my best." She huffed. "What you're being is a hypocrite. You're so tired your eyebags have eyebags. Just a small break, take a nap, relax a little. Please?"

Jim sighed, getting into a fighting stance. "Just a few more rounds. I can take it, Claire. Don't worry about it." Yeah, right. Asking his girlfriend not to worry about him? When he's Jim? Impossible.

An idea popped into her head. She remembered her first night over at Jim's house with Toby. They had been playing truth or dare, and Jim picked truth, after having to wear a shaving cream mustache. Toby smirked, and asked if he was ticklish. Jim denied it, leading to a cute punishment. Perfect.

"Fine. ONE more round, then quits." He didn't look happy with that answer, but took the deal anyways. Practice was practice, after all. Claire stood a few feet away, getting into position. "3, 2, 1, GO!"

Jim ran at her, sword drawn to his side. He swiped the blade at her feet, but she jumped away. Claire disappeared into a shadow portal. He slowly spun around, checking the forge for his partner. He heard a gust of air behind him, and before he could turn to catch her, Claire tackled him to the ground. Normally, she would be the one pinned down. However, Jim was running off of 2 hours of sleep for the week, so he was slower than normal.

He tried to shove her off, but she was already on top of him, using the weight of her armor against his tired muscles. He was thoroughly stuck.

"Okay, you win. Rematch?" Claire just sat there, a smirk on her face. Just then, as if to say 'yeah, no', his amulet fell away, taking his armor with it. No more training with weapons for today. "Claire?"

She grabbed his arms, pushing them above his head. He struggled against her, bit it didn't do much. Then it clicked; the look, the extra round, the strange pinning. Oh f-

"Jim, you need a break. And since you refuse to behave, I'm gonna help you!" She brought one of her hands down to his stomach, just hovering there. "Wait, no, Claire! I'll take the break, I'll eat, nap, I'll even meditate! Just- NOHOHO!"

She wasted no time digging into the sensitive skin, scratching and pinching. Even through his sweatshirt, he could feel every touch, poke and prod. The claws on her fingers didn't help him, either. He immediately started giggling, the intensity catching him off guard.

"Clahahahaire! Nohohoho!" The sound was, to say the least, adorable. Claire couldn't help but coo at the sweet noise. "Aww, Jim! You sound so cute! I should've done this sooner!" A rosy blush crept onto the Trollhunter's face, heating up in seconds. "Nohot cuhuhute! Knohock it ohohoff!"

Curious, Claire moved up to his ribs, earning giddy laughter from Jim. "AHAHAHA! CRAHAHAP! QUIHIHIHIT IT!" She went in between each bone, drilling into his ribcage. Jim twisted and turned, but he couldn't shake her off.

When Claire looked at his face, she saw a happy, joyful Jim, one she hadn't seen in weeks. However, it was clear he was nearing his limit. She had one more thing to try.

Pulling back his shirt and sweater, Claire released his arms and brought her head down to his belly. She took a deep breath, and blew a huge raspberry on the poor boy. He burst out in loud, frantic laughter. Jim bucked and squirmed, pushing at her head. It was so bad!

When she was done tormenting his stomach, she got off of him, rubbing his back as he curled up. Jim was still laughing, the phantom tickles gliding across his torso. After a few minutes, he got his breath back, and turned to Claire.

“Captain, whiskey can be ordered or acquired from any of the neighbouring planets,” Spock says, slowing down. Of course Jim slows to accompany him, of course he does. 

“You don’t get it, Spock. That stuff is aged on Earth with Earth wood. Bones hates the taste of whiskey aged with the artificial stuff,” Jim explains, noticing Bones to be getting closer and closer as they run through the hallways of The Enterprise, “we won’t be back on Earth for another year, Spock.”

“I believe that humans would say you are ‘screwed,’ Captain,” Spock comes to a complete stop, and of course, Jim stops too. He’d say it’s to protect Spock from Bones’ wrath, but of course, it’s not that simple.

There’s only a mere five seconds between them stopping and Jim being potato-sacked over Bones’ shoulder, unsure if his punishment will happen in his quarters or Bones’, but then again, they’re kind of the same at this point in their friendship. 

As he’s carried away, batting at Bones’ back for hopes of mercy, he sees the cute, lopsided smile on Spock’s face, looks into his knowing eyes. “Spock, you traitor!”

Jim spends the entire two minute journey trying to make Bones as uncomfortable as possible, squirming, pleading, and throwing his fists against his best friend’s back. Nearly the moment the door to Bones’ quarters opens, he’s being thrown onto the couch, landing with a punched-out ‘oof’. 

“Bohones nohoho, c’mon!” Jim pleads, putting his hands up in between the two of them as Bones straddles his hips. 

“I’m not even touchin’ ya, kid,” Bones says fondly, reaching a hand up to ruffle Jim’s hair. 

“Stop! Juhust let me go! Ihihi’m sorry!” Jim reasons, shaking his head to dismount Bones’ hand. 

“No way, kid,” Bones feigns a frown, “that Earth whiskey ain’t goin’ to make up for itself, I’ll have to drink that intergalactic slime shit for the next year because of you.”

“Ihihi’m sorry! I’ll request we go back to Earth early!”

“I’d never let you jeopardise a mission, Jim, especially the first five-year expedition in Fleet history,” Bones sighs, “but I would let you suffer for it.”

“Bohones NOHOHOHO!” Bones’ hands finally go to work, latching onto Jim’s hips, going in for the kill as soon as he starts.

“No- I- Ple-“ Jim tries to get something, anything out, but he’s overtaken by his own hearty laughter, his entire body shaking as he starts to burn pink to his ears. 

Bones can’t help but laugh along, shaking his head at Jim’s adorable reactions, “you did something pretty bad, kid. I ought to just stay here the entire time.”

Jim’s eyes shoot open, shaking his head urgently, “IHIHIHI’D DIHIHIE!” 

“Well, then tell me where to go, Jim.” Bones smirks as Jim goes impossibly more red, a sheepish expression on his face. 

“AHAHAHANAYWHERE EHEHEHELSE!” 

“Not an answer,” Bones says, drilling in. 

Jim shrieks, arching his back but only making the tickling worse as a result. “AHAHA- I- TUHUHUMMY!”

“Better,“ Bones chuckles, hands going up to Jim’s tummy. His tickling becomes incredibly soft, spidering over Jim’s stomach in the way he usually likes when he’s trying to sleep. Now, however, the soft tickling is a thousand times more flustering than it is peaceful. He giggles like a child, his head back and his nose scrunched.

“Nohoho!” He hiccups, trying to bat away Bones’ hands. 

“Ready for another spot, kid?” Bones asks, pushing Jim’s hand away. 

“Plehehease stohohop!” Jim cries.

“Alright, neck it is then.” 

Jim positively screams when Bones scratches at his collarbones, trying to put his head down but only succeeding in trapping Bones’ fingers. He hiccups, snorts, and begs, but none of it is enough to stop Bones. 

“I CAHAHAN’T I CAHAHAHAN’T!” Jim screams, kicking out and hands going everywhere. 

“Alright, alright, kid. You’re too damn cute and too damn ticklish for your own good.” Bones’ hands slow down, going back up to Jim’s hair to scratch his head, dismounting Jim to put his head in Bones’ lap.

“Ihihi-“ Jim starts, opening his eyes, “I ahaham sorry, Bohohones, reheheally. I thohohought it was the stuhuhuff from the last planet, I shohohould’ve read the label.” 

“No worries, Jim. It’s just liquor,” Bone says, his hand wandering slightly and nicking Jim’s ear, causing an adorable snort from the blonde, “I’ll drink the gross stuff with you, but you’re buying me a bottle when we get back next year.”

“Would that make me an enabler?” Jim says, stray giggles still flowing as his eyes slowly shut. 

“Oh hush, go to sleep, you damn infant.”