Title: Transverse
Word Count: 230
Warnings: notta
Jim counts them when he's sure Bones isn't paying attention, during the rare opportunities that Jim gets to stare at him without being caught. The freckles are pale, just barely brown in the right light, and spread in a pattern Jim hasn't quite figured out yet.
On sleepy mornings, when there's sun sneaking in through the slats of their blinds, Jim feels like a child. He wishes for a pen snug between his fingers so that he can connect each freckle with a line. The line would crisscross across countries of warm skin, over the planes of Bones' shoulder blades and around the smooth edge of his shoulders. He'd follow them up from there, along the pronounced line of his collar bone, up the column of his neck to the soft juncture of ear and then along his jaw to cheeks slightly flushed red.
Bones blinks at him, still half asleep, and his eyelashes brush against the back of Jim's finger. He couldn't say that these freckles are his favorite thing about Bones. They're near the top, each one holding the place in his heart individually from the one on the inside of Bones' ankle to the one just in the right corner of his lips. The freckles are more like the roadmap to all Jim's favorite things about Bones—his smile, his eyes, his heart, and everything in between.