This is one of the stupidest ideas that Leonard’s ever had. He can’t remember every bad idea over the last twenty-nine years, but he knows this has to be at the top of the list. Give him a patient with serious cerebral trauma, and he can do brain surgery with a blindfold. Give him a motorbike and oil, and he’s all thumbs. Oily thumbs, in this case, because he’s making a mess trying to get the damn oil changed. How was he supposed to know that the oil was going to shoot out when he started to drain it? The only information he could find about changing oil in an old motorbike never said a word of warning about that.
Maybe he can blame the library and their lack of adequate instructional materials for the stained shirt and puddle forming beneath Jessica. If they had PADDs with proper instructions, he would have realized that draining the oil had the potential to make his life miserable.
Really, though, this is all Jim’s fault. He’s the one with the motorbike that’s so ancient there aren’t even parts readily available at the most extensive salvage yards in San Francisco. He’s also the one who is so difficult to buy a gift for that Leonard resorted to thinking of something to do for Jessica, since she’s about the only thing in the world that Jim loves. It’s time for an oil change, so it’s a thoughtful yet practical gift for Christmas. If Leonard can actually get it done, Jim’s going to be really surprised, maybe even happy at a time of year that’s not his favorite by any means.
Last year, Leonard made the mistake of working a double at the hospital to avoid Christmas and the whole ‘happy cheerful’ bullshit that’s generally expected around the holidays. Being divorced only a few months and unable to even communicate with his daughter hadn’t been anything worth celebrating, so work had been a good diversion. Only thing was that he'd never considered what Jim would do for the holiday. Jim, he'd found out after the fact when it was too late to change anything, hates Christmas and nearly killed himself from alcohol poisoning after drinking so much he couldn’t even tell Leonard what all he had.
This year, Leonard’s had the request for the day off into the hospital for months, and he’s planning…well, he isn’t entirely sure what he’s planning, but at least Jim won’t be getting drunk alone. Or he might be if Leonard can’t get this fixed because he’ll be dead after Jim gets finished with him for taking Jess apart without putting her back together. “Damn it,” he mutters, scowling at the bike and the oil covering his hands. “It’s too bad you can’t talk, Jess, because I could use some instructions on getting this done.”
She doesn’t answer, obviously, and he hits his forehead against his hand when he realizes that he’s started talking to her. Jim is rubbing off on him, and not in the way Leonard wants to be rubbed. He groans because that’s definitely not the direction his thoughts need to be heading in right now. Best friend thoughts are the only appropriate ones he can have. Anything else is too complicated to consider right now. When he raises his head, he realizes belatedly that he was leaning against the oily hand. As if things couldn’t get any worse.
“Bones? What’cha doing?”
“Damn it, Jim,” he mutters, grimacing at the mess on the ground. He just had to go and think it, didn’t he? He jinxed himself.
“What did I do? I just got here,” Jim says defensively. Leonard can hear footsteps getting closer before they stop suddenly. “What are you doing to Jess? I know you’re jealous that you have to share me with her, but taking her apart isn’t going to change anything. Except maybe pissing me off.”
“I’m not jealous of your motorbike, Jim.” Leonard is rather proud that he manages to get that out without sneering and rolling his eyes. He looks up to see Jim standing in the most perfect light ever, as if he instinctively knows where to be to look his best. It’s so natural for him that Leonard can’t really hate him for it. “And I’m not taking her apart. I’m changing the oil.”
“Changing her oil?” Jim arches a brow and there’s a flash of white teeth as he bites his lower lip in an attempt not to smile. It doesn’t work. Leonard doesn’t even reach a count of four before Jim’s smiling that brilliant heart-stopping smile that Leonard’s pretty sure he’s one of the few people to ever receive. “That’s just great, Bones. I’m really glad my favorite girl is bonding with my favorite boy.”
“Hmph.” Leonard can’t make a smartass remark about not being a boy because Jim looks too happy. Over a fucked up oil change that’s not going well at all. If this is somehow his best Christmas ever, Leonard might just have to hug him and never let go. He watches Jim kneel down beside him, still smiling and looking at the mess curiously. Grudgingly, he admits, “It’s not as easy as I hoped it’d be.”
“If I ask why you decided to change her oil, will I get glared at and have to listen to a lot of muttering?” Jim asks, turning his attention away from the puddle to focus on Leonard.
“It’s Christmas,” Leonard reminds him gruffly. “This is your gift.”
Jim purses his lips and looks from the bike to Leonard several times. “I hate Christmas,” he mutters. “You know that.”
“I like Christmas.” Leonard actually doesn’t much care one way or another for the traditional Terran holiday, but he can remember enjoying it as a kid when he ripped open wrapped gifts and got to eat gingerbread cookies. Hell, he should have just made cookies instead of going through this automatic maintenance hell. “I’m not forcing you to celebrate or do anything fun, Jim. I’m just giving you a present cause you’re my best friend.”
“Thought you said last year that this was a pointless holiday and the real meaning behind it was forgotten centuries ago,” Jim says, using that ‘I remember every random thing you bitch about so I can use it against you in future arguments’ tone that’s somehow challenging and smug all at the same time.
“That was last year when I was a bitter recent divorcee and didn’t see a point in celebrating anything.” He shrugs. “Now, I can see a point in embracing the whole traditional thing.”
“You’re still a bitter divorcee who’d rather grumble than celebrate.” Jim studies him intently. “Did the Ex let you talk to your kid?”
“No,” Leonard says curtly, ending that discussion before it even begins. “I’m going to get back to this oil change so I can maybe get the damn thing done before dark.”
Jim sighs before reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. “If I offer to help you finish, don’t take that to mean I’m suddenly a big Christmas loving freak. Understood?”
“Fine. I’ll take back the Santa hat I got for you if you help,” Leonard tells him dryly.
“Asshole.” Jim smiles, though, which means maybe he’s forgiving Leonard already for trying to force some Christmas cheer on him. “You know I don’t like hats. They fuck with my hair.” He leans over and opens the side storage container on Jess, pulling out an old rag. “Before we start, I need to take care of this.” He brings the rag up to Leonard’s face and carefully wipes it across his forehead. “It was starting to drip, and we don’t want you stuck at the hospital having your eyes flushed out tonight.”
“I plan to avoid the hospital for two more days.” Leonard smiles wryly. “I bet I look pretty ridiculous, don’t I?”
Jim lowers his gaze and stops moving the rag as he stares into Leonard’s eyes. “Not even a little ridiculous, I’m afraid,” he says solemnly. “However, I hope you aren’t this messy when you do doctor-y stuff because that’d just be bad.”
“Shut up and tell me how to fix this before Jess gets mad at me,” Leonard grumbles, reaching over to pinch Jim’s side. He smiles slightly when Jim squeals and slaps at his hand.
“You got oil on my shirt, Bones. Just for that, you’re doing my laundry.” Jim smirks before dropping the oily rag back into the storage container.
“The only way your laundry ever gets done is when I finally send it off, you lazy ass.” Leonard watches Jim pick up a wrench from the pile of tools nearby. “The library here is woefully unprepared for matters involving the repair of old motorbikes.”
“Don’t listen to him, Jess. You’re young and beautiful,” Jim says, patting the leather seat. “And don’t say a word or I’ll have to bring up the fact that you said you didn’t want her to get mad at you, which means you consider her a her.” He gives Leonard a smug look before he shifts closer. “Does this still count as a gift if I end up doing most of it?”
“I thought you hated Christmas,” Leonard murmurs, trying not to lean nearer so he can sniff Jim’s hair or his neck or any other part of him that’s so damn close.
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a gift from my best friend.” Jim reaches for Leonard’s hand and puts the wrench into it. “I’m going to teach you how to change her oil so you at least learn something after suffering the indignity of being covered in motor oil.”
“I’ll make you some gingerbread cookies to go with the oil change.” He watches Jim slowly smile and knows what he’ll be doing once this is done. There’s no way he can’t make cookies now.
“Who needs stupid traditions about fat guys in red suits or religious meanings that have mostly been forgotten over the years when we can have gingerbread cookies and oil changes?” Jim lightly punches his shoulder and grins. “Maybe I wouldn’t hate it so bad if that’s what it’s about.”
“We can start our own tradition then,” Leonard says simply. “Who needs to follow someone else’s guidelines, after all? We’ll make our own rules.”
“Christmas our way, huh?” Jim looks at him again in that serious sort of way that makes Leonard almost wish he could read minds. He looks away and strokes Jessica’s leather seat idly. “Don’t think that I haven’t figured out why you’re doing this, Bones.”
“I’m not thinking anything.” Leonard can feel a nerve in his cheek twitch as he stares at Jim’s profile and manages not to focus on his lips.
Jim snorts and glances at him. “I know you’re doing this for the presents,” he tells him, giving him a look that seems to go from ‘don’t think I’m fooled’ to ‘you meddling ass’ to ‘maybe it isn’t so bad’ to ‘thanks’ within the span of a few heartbeats.
“It sounds like you’ve got me all figured out, kid,” Leonard says. He arches a brow and nods towards the bike. “We planning on leaving your lady half-dressed or are you gonna stop thinking long enough to help me get her fixed up all nice and pretty?”
“Not even close, Bones. I don’t think I’ll ever get you all figured out.” Jim grins at that and punches his arm again in that playfully affectionate way that says a hell of a lot more than words ever would. “We’ll take care of Jess then you’re making me some of those cookies so we can have something to eat when we get drunk off our asses tonight and forget what the date is.”
“You’ll get your damn gingerbread so long as there’s some bourbon in those getting drunk plans of yours.” Leonard bumps his arm against Jim’s shoulder and holds up the wrench. “Now, what the hell do I need to do with this?”
Jim laughs and starts to go into some tediously in-depth explanation about oil filters and drain plugs. There’s also advice about changing the oil when it’s hot, but Leonard isn’t really paying as much attention as he should be to the lesson. Instead, he’s leaning closer to Jim and trying not to sniff him because he smells so much better than the stink of oil. This might not be the best Christmas ever, but it’s a damn good start.
End
Tradition
Story Notes:
December 1, 2009. Set before Two Men & a Motorbike.