FIC: Star Trek 2009: Kirk, McCoy - Things You Say (PG-13)
Things You Say (PG-13)
pre-slash/mild Kirk/McCoy
Academy Days
Warning: Discussion of child abuse.
Written for this prompt at st_xi_kink.
Jim pulled his shirt up and off, over his head and onto the bench where his towel sat. Were he a lesser man, he might have been self-conscious about the scars adorning the skin on his back, but he was James T. Kirk and he didn't know the meaning of self-consciousness.
Well, at least that was what he liked to tell people. He thought it sounded interesting.
Bones just said it made him sound like even more of an arrogant ass than usual, but Jim knew that was just Bones being his usual affectionate self.
As he began taping up his hands, waiting for said best friend to show up in the gym so they could get to their work-out, a couple of the first year students were loitering in the background. Jim could hear them twittering amongst themselves.
He turned his head and frowned at them, until one of the girls pushed forward a boy, looking far too young for the academy. Or maybe that was just Jim feeling old amongst all these teenagers.
"Those scars are so cool," he blurted out, and the rest of his friends inched closer, eager expressions on their faces.
"You think so?" Jim asked nonchalantly.
"Yeah!" chimed in one of the girls, biting her lip. Were Jim entirely sure she wasn't one of those weird jail-bait geniuses on campus, he might have tried making a move. But it just wasn't worth it if he was going to find out she was a fifteen-year-old who just looked a few years older.
"Did you get them in a bar fight?" one of the other guys asked, a little hero-worship coloring his tone. Jim's reputation was widely known. Apparently being George Kirk's son meant more than just having a dead father at Starfleet. Everyone was always watching him, waiting for him to accomplish some new amazing feat.
Mostly, he just wanted to get drunk, get laid, and graduate.
"Horrific childhood abuse, actually," he said before he could stop himself.
The other students all froze. It was almost comical, really.
"But they are pretty cool, right?" he said, deciding not to stop there. "I mean, hey, look at these ones, down here?" he said, pointing at his lower back.
"These are from when my stepfather took a belt, buckle-side down on my back because I spilled his beer. Oh, oh, and this? Up by the nape of my neck?" he continued morbidly, turning a little and pointing with one finger.
"My stepdad knocked me into a picture frame with that one. The glass shattered and broke the skin. But, these ones going down from there? That's from where he blamed me for the mess and hit me until I was lying unconscious on the shards," he explained, voice cool and friendly all at once.
The kids looked like someone had just shot a puppy in front of them. One of the girls looked like she was going to vomit all over the gym floor, and one of the boys looked like he was going to start crying.
"Oh, but guys!" He couldn't stop his mouth. "I've forgotten the best ones. You see that one? The one shaped like a- hey! Hey, where are you going?" he called after them.
"You're sadistic."
Jim jumped slightly, before turning around to see Bones standing there, glowering in a way that was probably meant to be disapproving, but always just sort of got Jim hot.
"Who, me?" Jim asked innocently. "What makes you say that?"
"Don't pull that shit with me. You got those scars in a motorcycle accident."
"So?" Jim said with an amused snort. "They need to learn to mind their own business some time. Why not now?"
Bones just shook his head, but it was obvious to Jim that he was trying to hide his amusement.
"Why do I even bother?" he mumbled to himself, slapping Jim on the shoulder. "Come on. We better get started."
"Yeah, yeah, just give me a second."
"I show up five minutes late and you're still not ready?" Bones asked, doing that eyebrow-thing at him that Jim liked to pretend didn't affect him at all. "Why am I not surprised?"
As Bones headed over to their usual spot, Jim grabbed the roll of tape again, finishing his half-done job from before, purposefully ignoring the fact that the scars might be from a motorcycle accident, but that only just served as a great cover story for the scars that had been there before.
"I don't have all day!" Bones shouted at him. Jim made a face at him, but hastily tore the tape and tamped down the guilt of lying to Bones along with the edge of the tape around his knuckles.
"You're so impatient," he chided. He told himself that he'd tell Bones. Eventually.
But that conversation would just have to wait.
pre-slash/mild Kirk/McCoy
Academy Days
Warning: Discussion of child abuse.
Written for this prompt at st_xi_kink.
Jim pulled his shirt up and off, over his head and onto the bench where his towel sat. Were he a lesser man, he might have been self-conscious about the scars adorning the skin on his back, but he was James T. Kirk and he didn't know the meaning of self-consciousness.
Well, at least that was what he liked to tell people. He thought it sounded interesting.
Bones just said it made him sound like even more of an arrogant ass than usual, but Jim knew that was just Bones being his usual affectionate self.
As he began taping up his hands, waiting for said best friend to show up in the gym so they could get to their work-out, a couple of the first year students were loitering in the background. Jim could hear them twittering amongst themselves.
He turned his head and frowned at them, until one of the girls pushed forward a boy, looking far too young for the academy. Or maybe that was just Jim feeling old amongst all these teenagers.
"Those scars are so cool," he blurted out, and the rest of his friends inched closer, eager expressions on their faces.
"You think so?" Jim asked nonchalantly.
"Yeah!" chimed in one of the girls, biting her lip. Were Jim entirely sure she wasn't one of those weird jail-bait geniuses on campus, he might have tried making a move. But it just wasn't worth it if he was going to find out she was a fifteen-year-old who just looked a few years older.
"Did you get them in a bar fight?" one of the other guys asked, a little hero-worship coloring his tone. Jim's reputation was widely known. Apparently being George Kirk's son meant more than just having a dead father at Starfleet. Everyone was always watching him, waiting for him to accomplish some new amazing feat.
Mostly, he just wanted to get drunk, get laid, and graduate.
"Horrific childhood abuse, actually," he said before he could stop himself.
The other students all froze. It was almost comical, really.
"But they are pretty cool, right?" he said, deciding not to stop there. "I mean, hey, look at these ones, down here?" he said, pointing at his lower back.
"These are from when my stepfather took a belt, buckle-side down on my back because I spilled his beer. Oh, oh, and this? Up by the nape of my neck?" he continued morbidly, turning a little and pointing with one finger.
"My stepdad knocked me into a picture frame with that one. The glass shattered and broke the skin. But, these ones going down from there? That's from where he blamed me for the mess and hit me until I was lying unconscious on the shards," he explained, voice cool and friendly all at once.
The kids looked like someone had just shot a puppy in front of them. One of the girls looked like she was going to vomit all over the gym floor, and one of the boys looked like he was going to start crying.
"Oh, but guys!" He couldn't stop his mouth. "I've forgotten the best ones. You see that one? The one shaped like a- hey! Hey, where are you going?" he called after them.
"You're sadistic."
Jim jumped slightly, before turning around to see Bones standing there, glowering in a way that was probably meant to be disapproving, but always just sort of got Jim hot.
"Who, me?" Jim asked innocently. "What makes you say that?"
"Don't pull that shit with me. You got those scars in a motorcycle accident."
"So?" Jim said with an amused snort. "They need to learn to mind their own business some time. Why not now?"
Bones just shook his head, but it was obvious to Jim that he was trying to hide his amusement.
"Why do I even bother?" he mumbled to himself, slapping Jim on the shoulder. "Come on. We better get started."
"Yeah, yeah, just give me a second."
"I show up five minutes late and you're still not ready?" Bones asked, doing that eyebrow-thing at him that Jim liked to pretend didn't affect him at all. "Why am I not surprised?"
As Bones headed over to their usual spot, Jim grabbed the roll of tape again, finishing his half-done job from before, purposefully ignoring the fact that the scars might be from a motorcycle accident, but that only just served as a great cover story for the scars that had been there before.
"I don't have all day!" Bones shouted at him. Jim made a face at him, but hastily tore the tape and tamped down the guilt of lying to Bones along with the edge of the tape around his knuckles.
"You're so impatient," he chided. He told himself that he'd tell Bones. Eventually.
But that conversation would just have to wait.