Fic: Spill (Kirk/McCoy)
Title: Spill
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Fandom: Star Trek XI (spoilers)
Summary: Another night, another bar
Rating: Teen/PG13 [Language]
Word Count: 3320
A/N: #10 in the Two Men & a Motorbike series. Follows Stalled.
Admiral Barnett really needs to have the stick that’s up his ass removed. Jim figures there must be some kind of surgery that could do it. There’s surgery for everything, it seems, so why not that? Maybe once the stick is removed, Barnett can get a sense of humor, since he’s sorely lacking one now. This meeting is almost as unpleasant as the one about the Kobayashi Maru, only not as bad since there’s not a threat of him getting kicked out of Starfleet this time. At least, he hopes there’s not. Maybe he should try paying more attention to Barnett instead of wondering about the logistics regarding the removal of proverbial sticks.
Nope. Still boring and dry and lost in some repeat cycle of listing off regulations that Jim should know by heart. The problem is that Jim does know them. He’s one of the brightest students in his year, at the top of most of his classes, and even the treasurer for the Xenolinguistics club, yet people still seem to think he’s a brainless pretty boy. While he can use that to his advantage more often than not, it gets annoying after a while. It’s even worse now because every single time Barnett opens his mouth, Jim knows that he can’t go pick up Bones after this and head to the bar so they can drink and bitch about things.
It’s been four days, and Jim’s been able to reach a point where he only thinks about Bones every few minutes, which is an improvement over the constant thoughts. Not a vast one, but at least a little one. He shifts and resists the urge to tap his fingers on the arm of his chair as he waits for Barnett to ever reach his point. He’s already been scolded for entering the dry dock without permission, which has to be the purpose of this meeting. His hands have been slapped, figuratively, and he’s made all the right comments about never doing it again, blah blah placating blah.
When Barnett mentions a ceremony happening in a couple of weeks, he arches a brow and listens more carefully. He’s disappointed when Barnett doesn’t mention an appointment as captain, but he’s pleasantly surprised to hear that he’s going to receive commendation for leading a successful mission. Saving Earth probably helped with that, too, not that he brags about that to Barnett. The man, boring and staid as he is, does have control of Jim’s graduation from Starfleet as well as a huge say in where the Federation eventually appoints him, after all.
The meeting is finally over, and he shakes Barnett’s hand before leaving his office. When he steps out into the waiting area, the satisfied smile on his face fades when he sees Bones sitting in a chair looking through a magazine. Bones looks up at the sound of the closing door, and his expression changes when he sees Jim. His grip tightens on the magazine, and the casual politeness becomes a mask of cool indifference.
Neither of them speaks, which makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Jim refuses to back down, though. He ran away like a scolded schoolboy last time, so he’s not about to do the same again. He tries to muster up some anger, even as he greedily looks at Bones, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the stubble on his jaw. When he starts to think about how that jaw feels when rubbing against his skin, he straightens his shoulders and forces himself to think of Bones like a professional colleague. If he can handle this meeting after everything they’ve been through and done, then he can handle anything the Federation throws at him.
“Doctor McCoy,” Jim says with a slight sneer. It’s the first time that he’s talked to Bones since that night, though not the first time he’s seen him. Pathetically, he’s ended up outside Bones’ room a few times during his rides around campus. It’s instinct to go there, more than anything else. Jim doesn’t want to become some scary stalking freak that can’t let go, though, so he knows he needs to break the habit.
Bones arches a brow. “Hello Jim,” he drawls in that annoying ‘nothing bothers me, I’m Southern’ drawl that Jim has always found somewhat erotic. “I’d ask how you are, but everyone’s already talking about your latest escapades with the dry dock.”
“I’d ask how you are, but I don’t give a shit,” he replies, irritated that Bones has made it sound like he’s being a bad child that everyone’s talking about. There’s only a six year age difference between them, even less some months, so there’s no reason he should be able to make Jim feel so much younger than him.
A nerve twitches in Bones’ cheek, and he looks away, frowning at a painting on the wall behind Jim. “We’re best friends, Jim. Regardless of anything else that’s happened, I’m trying to salvage that here.”
“You’re not trying to do anything, McCoy,” he says, refusing to call him Bones because Bones is his best friend, and he doesn’t feel that friendship right now. “It’s Thursday. That’s, what, five days? Haven’t talked to you or heard from you in all that time. You’re back to ignoring everything like it’ll make it all go away.” He shakes his head. “That’s not salvaging a damn thing. I don’t even think we can be friends any more, can we?”
Bones looks at him and the intensity in his eyes makes Jim’s heart start to beat faster. “You don’t know as much as you think you do, Jim,” he practically growls. He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever he plans to say because he’s called into a meeting with Barnett. He looks at Jim and frowns. “See you around.”
Jim stands his ground when Bones gets to his feet, so close that he can almost feel the heat from his body. As Bones brushes past him, knocking his shoulder with his arm, Jim inhales as subtly as possible. His spare pillow no longer smells like Bones, and he’s missed that familiar scent more than he wants to admit. Bones has been working in the lab today, because there’s a smell of chemicals that nearly overpowers his normal scent. The fact that Jim notices that scares him, just a little. He couldn’t even recognize how he smells, yet he knows that about Bones.
Before Bones enters the office, Jim glances back at him. “I know enough,” he says defensively, watching Bones’ shoulders tense as his long fingers wrap around the doorknob. “See you, McCoy.”
When Bones looks at him, Jim doesn’t look away. He wants everything, friendship and sex and Bones and stuff he doesn’t even understand yet, but he has nothing left. The reality that he’s lost one of the most important things in his life, his friendship with Bones, scares him more than anything he’s ever experienced. He’d rather jump off a drilling platform than deal with this. Barnett calls out a greeting to Bones, and that snaps them out of their staring contest. Bones turns away and enters the office, closing the door behind him.
Jim runs his hand through his hair before he leaves, walking quickly as if that’s going to somehow stop all the confusion and disappointment and hurt. It doesn’t. He should know better by now. He reaches Jessica and straddles her, just sitting for a moment. That whole thing has left him shaken, not even giving him any time to enjoy the fact that he’s going to receive commendation. Not that there’s anyone to tell unless he wants to bother writing his mother or George. Maybe he will. It’d certainly shock the hell out of them, so that could be fun.
“I think I need a drink or maybe five, Jessica,” he mutters. Since he bought her shortly after arriving in San Francisco, she’s his oldest friend now that everything with Bones is fucked up. It’s a rather sad realization. He starts the engine and heads towards the closest bar. He’ll have a few drinks then maybe go for a drive, try to clear his head of all these damn thoughts. It’s kinda funny how his usual plans for a night at the bar have changed in the past couple of weeks. This whole ‘drinking but not to get drunk’ thing isn’t as much fun, but he’s starting to get used to it, at least.
When he arrives at the bar, he parks on the side by the dumpster, since it’s less of a risk to Jess if someone decides to drive after drinking too much. The bar is already busy, and he’s glad he chose this one because it’s loud and noisy. It should be a good distraction from everything happening, which is what he wants. He finds an empty spot at the bar and sits down on a wobbly stool. It’s the only available one, so he just balances against the bar as he orders a beer. A future Starfleet captain can’t get drunk every night, or so Pike constantly tells him, so the beer should be a good choice.
After he gets the bottle, he takes a sip and scopes out the bar. He instantly classifies the women in the place into two groups (potential for sex, no such potential), but doesn't feel the urge to pursue any of those in the former category. There are also several who fall into the 'been there, done that' category, more than he's ever noticed in the past. He's either had sex with a large enough number of women that he's running into them more often and noticing, or it's just a coincidence. He snorts before he takes another sip of his beer. This is one area that he doubts is a coincidence.
As he drinks, he hears a man nearby hitting on someone at the bar. He rolls his eyes when he hears the attempt. It’s poor, at best, and the man doesn’t stand a chance unless the woman is drunk or desperate. He listens as a woman replies and straightens up. The voice is familiar, but he can’t quite place it. Now he’s curious, which is rarely a good thing. He casually turns his seat around to face the bar and lets his gaze sweep to the left, where he sees Gaila turning down a townie. He hasn’t seen her since they came back to Earth, but he’s glad to note that the injuries that she sustained when the Enterprise was attacked have healed.
Satisfied now that he’s placed a face to the voice, he looks back around at the crowd. He can hear that the man isn’t taking the answer well. Jim frowns but doesn’t interrupt. Gaila’s one of the best students who took the advanced hand-to-hand combat class that he helped instruct, so he knows that she can take care of herself. Still, he can’t relax completely because the guy sounds belligerent, which is rarely a good trait when mixed with alcohol and rejection. When a second male voice joins the pair, he glances over and sees that Gaila is starting to look uncomfortable and tense.
They aren’t really friends, even if they shared a few classes and had sex, but she’s one of his crew. Well, was for a couple of days, but it still counts to Jim. He slides off his stool and walks over to the trio. “Gentlemen, is there a problem?”
“Not one that concerns you, pretty boy,” the original guy says.
“I believe that the lady told you she’s not interested, so why don’t you run along and find someone who might appreciate your advances,” he says in his best ‘push me and I’ll fuck you up’ voice even as he smiles.
“There isn’t any lady here. Just this whore. We know about her kind,” the second bastard says. Jim has no qualms in making a snap judgment and assigning that term to him, not with the way he’s looking at Gaila.
“She can knock your ass from here to the Bay if she wants, so you’d better watch your mouth, asshole,” Jim warns him. He glances at Gaila and arches a brow. “Although, I have to admit that it’d be amusing to see you both get your asses kicked by her.”
“Always thinking about sex, aren’t you, Kirk,” Gaila mutters behind him, but she doesn’t seem to mind his interference. The guys are obviously too obtuse to take a hint.
“She can’t do anything to us,” the first asshole says. Jim bestows that name on him when he steps too close and tries to intimidate him. Just because he’s got a couple of inches on him doesn’t mean a damn thing.
Jim loses the smile and becomes serious. “I can break your neck in five seconds and probably even have time to castrate your friend with my bare hands before your body hits the floor. Want to find out if I’m bluffing?”
“Yeah, well, we don’t want that whore anyway,” the bastard says before stumbling back. Jim smirks and looks at the asshole, daring him to test him.
“You don’t scare me, pretty boy,” the asshole tells him, but he leaves with the bastard, so Jim can’t question him.
“I know that you’re bluffing,” Gaila informs him as he turns to look at her. “I don’t remember asking for any help, but I have to say thanks. There was something about those two that was starting to scare me.”
“I might have been able to do it.” He shrugs. “I’m lucky like that, you know?” He ignores the echo of Bones’ voice in his head asking about four-leaf clovers because he doesn’t want to remember that night.
“I’m not going to have sex with you again.” Gaila smiles. “It was good, but not that good.”
He snorts. “It was the best you’ll ever have, but you just don’t want to admit that you’ve had your peak sexual experience before the age of thirty.” He shakes his head. “Besides, I’m not interested. No offense.”
She looks confused. “Then why did you step in like that? Those guys were bigger than you.”
“You know, they always seem to be,” he says with a grin. “You’re part of my crew. No one fucks with my crew.”
“You’re a strange human, Jim Kirk.” She laughs softly. “I won’t have sex with you, but I will buy you a drink. You’re the prettiest man in here, so you might make my target jealous.”
“Your target?” He arches a brow and scopes the room. “Ah. The blond in the corner?”
“How do you do that?” She rolls her eyes. “His name’s Thomason, and he was in my Gravitational Dynamics class last term.”
“I’m just that good,” he says with a shrug before he smiles. “You’ve got your body turned in his direction and you keep sneaking glances over at him, even when those two idiots were giving you a hard time. It was either him or the skinny redhead, so I went with the one with a bit of meat on his bones.” He pats his abdomen and gives her a perfected pout. “I remember you telling me that I’m too skinny. You do realize that insulting me after sex is just rude, I hope.”
“Poor Kirk. Don’t worry. Lots of women go for the trim muscular look,” she tells him, squeezing his shoulder before she laughs again. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he admits, winking before he finishes his beer and reaches for the one she bought him. “So, are you going to sit here awed by my handsome good looks and charm or are you going to attack?”
“I think it’s time to attack,” she decides. She leans over and kisses his cheek, which surprises him. “You might be an oversexed ass, but, deep down, you’re also an honorable man, Captain.”
“Honorable?” He snorts and turns back to the bar as she walks across the room. He watches her start to flirt with the blond, who doesn’t stand a chance. It probably says something about him that he’s questioned honorable but not oversexed ass. Not sure what, but it probably isn’t anything worth bragging about, so he doesn’t really care. As he sips his beer, he watches the crowd and plays a game: choosing who is after whom. He’s successful most of the time, though there are a few surprises. It’s a fun game when he doesn’t have any interest in finding someone to take home, but he’s bored by the time he finishes his beer.
Instead of ordering another, he decides that he’s had enough for tonight and leaves the bar. It’s getting even louder in there, and he finds that it’s not nearly as tolerable when he isn’t drunk. He walks around the building to where he parked, thinking that this was a good choice for the night. He’s managed not to think about Bones more than a dozen times in the hour he spent people watching, so it was a decent distraction. Of course, he finds it frustrating that he can’t drop by and brag about managing to avoid a brawl by being threatening, since his first impulse is usually to punch first, talk second, though the talking rarely seems to happen.
He’s about to straddle Jess when he hears footsteps behind him. Two people, at least. Fuck. If it’s those assholes from the bar, he’s going to be irritated. He turns around and a fist hits his face. Damn it. They didn’t even give him time to make some witty quip that’d likely confuse them. Fortunately, he’s brilliant with hand-to-hand combat. Wouldn’t have helped teach the advanced class if he weren’t, so he’s ready for whatever they give him.
The problem, he quickly realizes, is that two has become five. He’s had worse odds, he thinks, not that he usually has time to count. One of them manages to hit him in the ribs before he can move. He starts to fight, ignoring the insults and threats. The best thing to do is focus on the punches, not the words. Words just get in the way. He manages to get in several good hits, maybe even breaking a nose or two if he’s lucky. There’s a lot of blood, at least, and that usually means something’s broken.
When he hears the sound of glass breaking, he looks over and sees one of them knocking out Jessica’s headlight. Before he can reach the guy, he snaps off one of her mirrors and sticks a knife in her front tire. Jim feels a fist hit his back, and he tries to turn his focus back to the fight, but he’s having trouble. There are just too many of them and they’re all big guys, not that he’s likely to ever admit that he’s at a disadvantage. He does what he can to defend himself, striking at anyone he can reach, while he tries to get closer to Jessica. He keeps hearing noises coming from behind him, from where that bastard must be fucking up his bike, but he’s unable to do anything about it.
He hears someone shouting when two of them have him by his arms and the two from the bar are punching and kicking him. There’s blood dripping in his eyes and in his mouth, and he thinks he might have broken his nose, again. The men holding him let go, and he hears them yelling out more insults as they run off. He’s proud that he’s managed to stay upright, even if they got the drop on him. He can hear shouts coming from somewhere, but he can’t really tell where until he gets his bearings. There’s a sudden pain in the back of his head, and he sees the pavement rushing towards his face before everything goes black.
End
#9: Stalled | #11: Broken
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Fandom: Star Trek XI (spoilers)
Summary: Another night, another bar
Rating: Teen/PG13 [Language]
Word Count: 3320
A/N: #10 in the Two Men & a Motorbike series. Follows Stalled.
Admiral Barnett really needs to have the stick that’s up his ass removed. Jim figures there must be some kind of surgery that could do it. There’s surgery for everything, it seems, so why not that? Maybe once the stick is removed, Barnett can get a sense of humor, since he’s sorely lacking one now. This meeting is almost as unpleasant as the one about the Kobayashi Maru, only not as bad since there’s not a threat of him getting kicked out of Starfleet this time. At least, he hopes there’s not. Maybe he should try paying more attention to Barnett instead of wondering about the logistics regarding the removal of proverbial sticks.
Nope. Still boring and dry and lost in some repeat cycle of listing off regulations that Jim should know by heart. The problem is that Jim does know them. He’s one of the brightest students in his year, at the top of most of his classes, and even the treasurer for the Xenolinguistics club, yet people still seem to think he’s a brainless pretty boy. While he can use that to his advantage more often than not, it gets annoying after a while. It’s even worse now because every single time Barnett opens his mouth, Jim knows that he can’t go pick up Bones after this and head to the bar so they can drink and bitch about things.
It’s been four days, and Jim’s been able to reach a point where he only thinks about Bones every few minutes, which is an improvement over the constant thoughts. Not a vast one, but at least a little one. He shifts and resists the urge to tap his fingers on the arm of his chair as he waits for Barnett to ever reach his point. He’s already been scolded for entering the dry dock without permission, which has to be the purpose of this meeting. His hands have been slapped, figuratively, and he’s made all the right comments about never doing it again, blah blah placating blah.
When Barnett mentions a ceremony happening in a couple of weeks, he arches a brow and listens more carefully. He’s disappointed when Barnett doesn’t mention an appointment as captain, but he’s pleasantly surprised to hear that he’s going to receive commendation for leading a successful mission. Saving Earth probably helped with that, too, not that he brags about that to Barnett. The man, boring and staid as he is, does have control of Jim’s graduation from Starfleet as well as a huge say in where the Federation eventually appoints him, after all.
The meeting is finally over, and he shakes Barnett’s hand before leaving his office. When he steps out into the waiting area, the satisfied smile on his face fades when he sees Bones sitting in a chair looking through a magazine. Bones looks up at the sound of the closing door, and his expression changes when he sees Jim. His grip tightens on the magazine, and the casual politeness becomes a mask of cool indifference.
Neither of them speaks, which makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Jim refuses to back down, though. He ran away like a scolded schoolboy last time, so he’s not about to do the same again. He tries to muster up some anger, even as he greedily looks at Bones, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the stubble on his jaw. When he starts to think about how that jaw feels when rubbing against his skin, he straightens his shoulders and forces himself to think of Bones like a professional colleague. If he can handle this meeting after everything they’ve been through and done, then he can handle anything the Federation throws at him.
“Doctor McCoy,” Jim says with a slight sneer. It’s the first time that he’s talked to Bones since that night, though not the first time he’s seen him. Pathetically, he’s ended up outside Bones’ room a few times during his rides around campus. It’s instinct to go there, more than anything else. Jim doesn’t want to become some scary stalking freak that can’t let go, though, so he knows he needs to break the habit.
Bones arches a brow. “Hello Jim,” he drawls in that annoying ‘nothing bothers me, I’m Southern’ drawl that Jim has always found somewhat erotic. “I’d ask how you are, but everyone’s already talking about your latest escapades with the dry dock.”
“I’d ask how you are, but I don’t give a shit,” he replies, irritated that Bones has made it sound like he’s being a bad child that everyone’s talking about. There’s only a six year age difference between them, even less some months, so there’s no reason he should be able to make Jim feel so much younger than him.
A nerve twitches in Bones’ cheek, and he looks away, frowning at a painting on the wall behind Jim. “We’re best friends, Jim. Regardless of anything else that’s happened, I’m trying to salvage that here.”
“You’re not trying to do anything, McCoy,” he says, refusing to call him Bones because Bones is his best friend, and he doesn’t feel that friendship right now. “It’s Thursday. That’s, what, five days? Haven’t talked to you or heard from you in all that time. You’re back to ignoring everything like it’ll make it all go away.” He shakes his head. “That’s not salvaging a damn thing. I don’t even think we can be friends any more, can we?”
Bones looks at him and the intensity in his eyes makes Jim’s heart start to beat faster. “You don’t know as much as you think you do, Jim,” he practically growls. He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever he plans to say because he’s called into a meeting with Barnett. He looks at Jim and frowns. “See you around.”
Jim stands his ground when Bones gets to his feet, so close that he can almost feel the heat from his body. As Bones brushes past him, knocking his shoulder with his arm, Jim inhales as subtly as possible. His spare pillow no longer smells like Bones, and he’s missed that familiar scent more than he wants to admit. Bones has been working in the lab today, because there’s a smell of chemicals that nearly overpowers his normal scent. The fact that Jim notices that scares him, just a little. He couldn’t even recognize how he smells, yet he knows that about Bones.
Before Bones enters the office, Jim glances back at him. “I know enough,” he says defensively, watching Bones’ shoulders tense as his long fingers wrap around the doorknob. “See you, McCoy.”
When Bones looks at him, Jim doesn’t look away. He wants everything, friendship and sex and Bones and stuff he doesn’t even understand yet, but he has nothing left. The reality that he’s lost one of the most important things in his life, his friendship with Bones, scares him more than anything he’s ever experienced. He’d rather jump off a drilling platform than deal with this. Barnett calls out a greeting to Bones, and that snaps them out of their staring contest. Bones turns away and enters the office, closing the door behind him.
Jim runs his hand through his hair before he leaves, walking quickly as if that’s going to somehow stop all the confusion and disappointment and hurt. It doesn’t. He should know better by now. He reaches Jessica and straddles her, just sitting for a moment. That whole thing has left him shaken, not even giving him any time to enjoy the fact that he’s going to receive commendation. Not that there’s anyone to tell unless he wants to bother writing his mother or George. Maybe he will. It’d certainly shock the hell out of them, so that could be fun.
“I think I need a drink or maybe five, Jessica,” he mutters. Since he bought her shortly after arriving in San Francisco, she’s his oldest friend now that everything with Bones is fucked up. It’s a rather sad realization. He starts the engine and heads towards the closest bar. He’ll have a few drinks then maybe go for a drive, try to clear his head of all these damn thoughts. It’s kinda funny how his usual plans for a night at the bar have changed in the past couple of weeks. This whole ‘drinking but not to get drunk’ thing isn’t as much fun, but he’s starting to get used to it, at least.
When he arrives at the bar, he parks on the side by the dumpster, since it’s less of a risk to Jess if someone decides to drive after drinking too much. The bar is already busy, and he’s glad he chose this one because it’s loud and noisy. It should be a good distraction from everything happening, which is what he wants. He finds an empty spot at the bar and sits down on a wobbly stool. It’s the only available one, so he just balances against the bar as he orders a beer. A future Starfleet captain can’t get drunk every night, or so Pike constantly tells him, so the beer should be a good choice.
After he gets the bottle, he takes a sip and scopes out the bar. He instantly classifies the women in the place into two groups (potential for sex, no such potential), but doesn't feel the urge to pursue any of those in the former category. There are also several who fall into the 'been there, done that' category, more than he's ever noticed in the past. He's either had sex with a large enough number of women that he's running into them more often and noticing, or it's just a coincidence. He snorts before he takes another sip of his beer. This is one area that he doubts is a coincidence.
As he drinks, he hears a man nearby hitting on someone at the bar. He rolls his eyes when he hears the attempt. It’s poor, at best, and the man doesn’t stand a chance unless the woman is drunk or desperate. He listens as a woman replies and straightens up. The voice is familiar, but he can’t quite place it. Now he’s curious, which is rarely a good thing. He casually turns his seat around to face the bar and lets his gaze sweep to the left, where he sees Gaila turning down a townie. He hasn’t seen her since they came back to Earth, but he’s glad to note that the injuries that she sustained when the Enterprise was attacked have healed.
Satisfied now that he’s placed a face to the voice, he looks back around at the crowd. He can hear that the man isn’t taking the answer well. Jim frowns but doesn’t interrupt. Gaila’s one of the best students who took the advanced hand-to-hand combat class that he helped instruct, so he knows that she can take care of herself. Still, he can’t relax completely because the guy sounds belligerent, which is rarely a good trait when mixed with alcohol and rejection. When a second male voice joins the pair, he glances over and sees that Gaila is starting to look uncomfortable and tense.
They aren’t really friends, even if they shared a few classes and had sex, but she’s one of his crew. Well, was for a couple of days, but it still counts to Jim. He slides off his stool and walks over to the trio. “Gentlemen, is there a problem?”
“Not one that concerns you, pretty boy,” the original guy says.
“I believe that the lady told you she’s not interested, so why don’t you run along and find someone who might appreciate your advances,” he says in his best ‘push me and I’ll fuck you up’ voice even as he smiles.
“There isn’t any lady here. Just this whore. We know about her kind,” the second bastard says. Jim has no qualms in making a snap judgment and assigning that term to him, not with the way he’s looking at Gaila.
“She can knock your ass from here to the Bay if she wants, so you’d better watch your mouth, asshole,” Jim warns him. He glances at Gaila and arches a brow. “Although, I have to admit that it’d be amusing to see you both get your asses kicked by her.”
“Always thinking about sex, aren’t you, Kirk,” Gaila mutters behind him, but she doesn’t seem to mind his interference. The guys are obviously too obtuse to take a hint.
“She can’t do anything to us,” the first asshole says. Jim bestows that name on him when he steps too close and tries to intimidate him. Just because he’s got a couple of inches on him doesn’t mean a damn thing.
Jim loses the smile and becomes serious. “I can break your neck in five seconds and probably even have time to castrate your friend with my bare hands before your body hits the floor. Want to find out if I’m bluffing?”
“Yeah, well, we don’t want that whore anyway,” the bastard says before stumbling back. Jim smirks and looks at the asshole, daring him to test him.
“You don’t scare me, pretty boy,” the asshole tells him, but he leaves with the bastard, so Jim can’t question him.
“I know that you’re bluffing,” Gaila informs him as he turns to look at her. “I don’t remember asking for any help, but I have to say thanks. There was something about those two that was starting to scare me.”
“I might have been able to do it.” He shrugs. “I’m lucky like that, you know?” He ignores the echo of Bones’ voice in his head asking about four-leaf clovers because he doesn’t want to remember that night.
“I’m not going to have sex with you again.” Gaila smiles. “It was good, but not that good.”
He snorts. “It was the best you’ll ever have, but you just don’t want to admit that you’ve had your peak sexual experience before the age of thirty.” He shakes his head. “Besides, I’m not interested. No offense.”
She looks confused. “Then why did you step in like that? Those guys were bigger than you.”
“You know, they always seem to be,” he says with a grin. “You’re part of my crew. No one fucks with my crew.”
“You’re a strange human, Jim Kirk.” She laughs softly. “I won’t have sex with you, but I will buy you a drink. You’re the prettiest man in here, so you might make my target jealous.”
“Your target?” He arches a brow and scopes the room. “Ah. The blond in the corner?”
“How do you do that?” She rolls her eyes. “His name’s Thomason, and he was in my Gravitational Dynamics class last term.”
“I’m just that good,” he says with a shrug before he smiles. “You’ve got your body turned in his direction and you keep sneaking glances over at him, even when those two idiots were giving you a hard time. It was either him or the skinny redhead, so I went with the one with a bit of meat on his bones.” He pats his abdomen and gives her a perfected pout. “I remember you telling me that I’m too skinny. You do realize that insulting me after sex is just rude, I hope.”
“Poor Kirk. Don’t worry. Lots of women go for the trim muscular look,” she tells him, squeezing his shoulder before she laughs again. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he admits, winking before he finishes his beer and reaches for the one she bought him. “So, are you going to sit here awed by my handsome good looks and charm or are you going to attack?”
“I think it’s time to attack,” she decides. She leans over and kisses his cheek, which surprises him. “You might be an oversexed ass, but, deep down, you’re also an honorable man, Captain.”
“Honorable?” He snorts and turns back to the bar as she walks across the room. He watches her start to flirt with the blond, who doesn’t stand a chance. It probably says something about him that he’s questioned honorable but not oversexed ass. Not sure what, but it probably isn’t anything worth bragging about, so he doesn’t really care. As he sips his beer, he watches the crowd and plays a game: choosing who is after whom. He’s successful most of the time, though there are a few surprises. It’s a fun game when he doesn’t have any interest in finding someone to take home, but he’s bored by the time he finishes his beer.
Instead of ordering another, he decides that he’s had enough for tonight and leaves the bar. It’s getting even louder in there, and he finds that it’s not nearly as tolerable when he isn’t drunk. He walks around the building to where he parked, thinking that this was a good choice for the night. He’s managed not to think about Bones more than a dozen times in the hour he spent people watching, so it was a decent distraction. Of course, he finds it frustrating that he can’t drop by and brag about managing to avoid a brawl by being threatening, since his first impulse is usually to punch first, talk second, though the talking rarely seems to happen.
He’s about to straddle Jess when he hears footsteps behind him. Two people, at least. Fuck. If it’s those assholes from the bar, he’s going to be irritated. He turns around and a fist hits his face. Damn it. They didn’t even give him time to make some witty quip that’d likely confuse them. Fortunately, he’s brilliant with hand-to-hand combat. Wouldn’t have helped teach the advanced class if he weren’t, so he’s ready for whatever they give him.
The problem, he quickly realizes, is that two has become five. He’s had worse odds, he thinks, not that he usually has time to count. One of them manages to hit him in the ribs before he can move. He starts to fight, ignoring the insults and threats. The best thing to do is focus on the punches, not the words. Words just get in the way. He manages to get in several good hits, maybe even breaking a nose or two if he’s lucky. There’s a lot of blood, at least, and that usually means something’s broken.
When he hears the sound of glass breaking, he looks over and sees one of them knocking out Jessica’s headlight. Before he can reach the guy, he snaps off one of her mirrors and sticks a knife in her front tire. Jim feels a fist hit his back, and he tries to turn his focus back to the fight, but he’s having trouble. There are just too many of them and they’re all big guys, not that he’s likely to ever admit that he’s at a disadvantage. He does what he can to defend himself, striking at anyone he can reach, while he tries to get closer to Jessica. He keeps hearing noises coming from behind him, from where that bastard must be fucking up his bike, but he’s unable to do anything about it.
He hears someone shouting when two of them have him by his arms and the two from the bar are punching and kicking him. There’s blood dripping in his eyes and in his mouth, and he thinks he might have broken his nose, again. The men holding him let go, and he hears them yelling out more insults as they run off. He’s proud that he’s managed to stay upright, even if they got the drop on him. He can hear shouts coming from somewhere, but he can’t really tell where until he gets his bearings. There’s a sudden pain in the back of his head, and he sees the pavement rushing towards his face before everything goes black.
End
#9: Stalled | #11: Broken