Jim loved game nights.

It was a big ship full of people with spotty sleep schedules; no matter what day or time or location of the game, people tended to wander in. Scotty was good, but only when he was the right level of drunk where he wasn't technically drunk but he wasn't technically sober and there was such a delicate balance to that that he rarely was a threat. Chapel was probably the best and had a list of favors from all of them that she'd collected in her winnings over the years. Sulu was getting better each game they played, though still not good enough to actually cause Jim to worry. Chekov was terrible, Bones was capital T Terrible, and Spock would be just as bad but he always played on a team with Uhura and together they were insanely good. It was unfair.

Jim entered in the code to his quarters and was completely undeterred by the lights being off.

"Bones," he says, hopping as he tore off one of his boots. "Are you sleeping?"

It was more of a conversation starter than a question. Bones was tucked in on his side of the bed and there was no way that he hadn't woken up the second the door had slid open. Bones was a doctor (dammit). He had doctors' instincts even outside of Medbay and was never able to sleep deeply. He could be up and ready to save a life in a half a second. That didn't mean he was happy about it. Jim got a half-hearted groan in response.

"Get up, we got a game night," Jim pressed on. He swapped his shirt for one of Bones' ratty Ole Miss sweatshirts draped over the desk. "I promised Chekov because he did that thing where he looked at me and I couldn't help it."

Bones pulled the blanket up higher and groaned again. Jim smiled as he finished tying his sweats. He dropped down on the bed.

"Bonnnneeessss," he said, pulling the blanket down. "Come on."

Bones squinted up at him. The face of complete apathy. "No."

"Did you miss the part where I said I promised Chekov?"

"Exactly," Bones sighed, still keeping his eyes closed. Like he was simply too tired to deal with Jim appropriately. "You promised the kid. I did nothing of the sort. I'm going back to sleep now."

Jim paused. He hadn't planned on this. If there was one thing Jim was reasonably confident about, it was the fact that Bones was always going to say yes. He said yes to sitting next to Jim on the shuttle to Starfleet; yes to the Kobayashi Maru, once, twice, three times; yes to being his CMO; yes to being more than just friends. Yes to everything.

Except, apparently, this particular game night.

"But….game night," he said again. "You've never missed a game night."

"I'm tired, Jim," Bones sighed. "And it's not like I'm going to be missed."

Well that was only partly true. Bones was an absolutely shit poker player. His eyes were too honesty. Actually all of him was too honest. It was one of the things Jim loved best about him. He was fun to have around the games, though. For someone who tried to convince the world he was a boring old country doctor, Bones actually had the craziest drinking stories to tell. And winning was only ever fun when Bones was around.

"I'll miss you," Jim said.

Bones smiled lazily.

"I'll be here when you get back," he said. "Don't let Chapel win. She'll be insufferable."

"I make no promises," Jim said truthfully. He ran his hand through Bones' hair as he stood up. He looked down, making one last ditch effort. "Are you positive you don't want to come?"

Bones just pulled the blanket back up over his shoulder. Jim sighed and headed for the door.

He really didn't know what to do with himself.

A game night...without Bones? Fun…without Bones? It was ridiculous. But he had promised Chekov. If the poor kid wanted to lose that badly, then who was Jim to deny him? It wasn't that Jim was insanely good at poker at pretty much any game this side of the Laurentian system, it was just that he had yet to see evidence to the contrary. He was a talented man. It was just his curse to bare, perhaps. That didn't change whether Bones was with him or not. And it wasn't like they were one of those couples who had to do everything together. They just preferred to. Jim was his own man. His own, talented man.

He walked through the doors of the rec room.

"Alright, let's do this," he said, flipping the chair across from Chapel around so he could sit on it backwards. He took the glass that Scotty offered him.

"No McCoy?" he asked.

"Bones is, wait for it, asleep," Jim said with disgust. "Can you believe that?"

"If I had to share a bed with you, I'd probably ending up pretending to be asleep a lot too," Uhura offered, passing out the cards.

Jim gasped quietly.

Sulu laughed.

Uhura shrugged.

The night, believe it or not, actually got worse from there.

And hour later and Jim was staring down at his cards, trying to keep is face as impassive as possible to hide the fact that it was (quite possibly) the worst hand in existence. He was a better liar than Bones by far, but there was only so much he had to work with. Sulu was eyeing him like he knew it, but Jim remained looking at his cards. He pushed up the sleeves of Bones' sweatshirt. Sulu sighed.

"Jim has a shit hand," he said impassively, almost as if he were commenting on the weather rather than Jim's masculinity.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Jim threw up his arms. He'd lost every single game they'd played that night. He was down thirty bucks and was damn near ready to give up. Across the table, Scotty smiled.

"Maybe we should stop inviting McCoy to the game," he said, rearranging his cards.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jim folded his arms. Chapel smiled, patting Jim' arm lightly.

"Easy, Jim," she laughed. "He didn't mean it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like however you're taking it," she said. "He just means that it's nice to see you lose."

"What does that mean?" he repeated. He looked around at the others. Uhura set her cards down, rolling her eyes like she was talking to a very dim child.

"You lost your good luck charm," she said. "When Leonard is playing with us, you never lose. He's gone and all of a sudden you're a worse player than Pavel."

Chekov nodded and Jim folded his arms.

"That's ridiculous. I'm entitled to an off night without it being a Bones issue."

Scotty snorted. "It's always a McCoy issue. Think about it: every mission you go on that he doesn't, ends in a right mess."

"That's a skewed statistic, though," Sulu added. "A lot of missions he does go end equally bad."

"But they don't end bad for Jim," Uhura said. "They end bad for other people."

"I don't like this," Jim said suddenly. "I'm not having fun."

"Because Leonard isn't here?" Chapel laughed.

"Face it, Jim," Scotty said. "McCoy is your good luck charm. It's weird."

"And sweet," Chapel said.

"And irrelevant to our game," Sulu finished. "Can we move on? Are you going to fold already, Captain?"

"I feel like I need to self-reflect," Jim said.

"Fold first, then introspect," Sulu said.

Jim threw down his cards.

"I'm out."

/

Jim didn't sleep much that night.

He didn't even know where to begin, besides his gut reaction to ignore the whole thing. He didn't like being analyzed by his crew, especially not on game night and especially not when it was about Bones. It wasn't that Bones was a sensitive subject, it was just that he was the subject that mattered most to Jim. It was completely different.

He was also the subject that scared Jim the most. Scotty and Chapel and the others labeling Bones as Jim's good luck charm was a simple way of putting it. A tangible way. Jim already had a million and one theoretical notions of how much Bones meant to him and giving one of those a name made them feel more real. You could lose real things, you could have real things taken away from you, and real things could hurt you. His relationship with Bones, despite being years overdue, was still technically new. It still didn't feel real and he didn't want to spoil that. Bones wasn't a good luck charm. Bones was everything.

"You're thinking so loud, I can't sleep."

Jim tilted his head to look at Bones and smiled softly.

"Sorry."

Bones raised an eyebrow. "Anything important?"

"No, I just," he said, then paused. He looked back up at the ceiling. "I just don't want you to come planetside with us tomorrow."

Bones sat up at that.

"You've been on my ass about going for weeks, Jim."

"And now I've changed my mind, Leonard."

"Why?"

"I'm working on a theory."

"What?"

Jim sat up now too, holding his pillow in his lap in some semblance of protection.

"It's nothing. Probably. Just…don't come with us. After the mission, I'll explain. I promise."

He looked across the bed at Bones, trying to convey how much he really didn't want to be having this conversation. He just wanted Bones to accept it and go back to sleep. Instead, Bones snorted.

"I'm honestly insulted you think I'm going to accept that."

It had been worth a shot. He again had to look away from Bones. It was easy to say stupid things when he didn't have to look Bones in the face.

"It's really, really, really ridiculous."

"I assumed as much," Bones said, but gently. Gentle insulting was Bones' go-to form of comfort.

"So at game night," Jim started. Then sighed heavily. "The crew implied that I can only do well at things when you are there. That you're my good luck charm… or whatever."

He looked at Bones. Who was looking at him. 40 solid seconds of silence passed while Bones looked as if he was contemplating every moment of his life that had led up to this moment, in this bed, looking at Jim. He did it often enough that Jim wasn't too worried. Finally Bones just frowned.

"Well, yeah," he said.

"Well yeah what?"

"Well yeah I'm your good luck charm," Bones said simply. "That's how it's always been."

Jim had to lie down again. "How it's always been?"

"Yeah," Bones shrugged. "That's my job. At the academy, on this ship. I go with you and make sure you don't do stupid shit. You take less risks, you're more cautious. It's nothing to do with luck and everything to do with being a good influence."

"A good influence?"

Bones raised an eyebrow.

"First of all, I'm the best damn influence you've ever had so you can stop sounding so surprised," he growled. "Second of all, yeah. A good influence."

"But they were talking about poker and game night and shit like that. Your influence has nothing to do with that."

"Yes it does. You win at games when I'm with you because you're a show off. You go out of your way to win when I'm there because apparently it's 1867 and you are trying to woo me."

"That's not true?"

But even Jim didn't believe it.

"It's very cute," Bones assured him. "But very annoying."

"I don't even know how to process this."

"Can we process it in the morning?" Bones sighed.

"I mean, I guess," Jim said. "I just…I don't like that."

Bones rolled over and pulled the blanket back up.

"You don't have to like it. I love it and that's all that matters."

Jim smiled.

"Alright."