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Story Notes:

Complete as is, but also sort of a precursor to hurt/comfort at sickbay in another chapter, if I decide to keep going with it.


Author's Chapter Notes:

Sort of a precursor to hurt/comfort at sickbay in another chapter, assuming I write another chapter. (I probably will at some point.)


They exited the bar and stopped next to a park bench. Jim flopped onto it and let his head hang between his knees.

He made some inarticulate noise and ran a hand through his hair.

"God... My head..." he groaned in the same regretful tone Spock had heard a thousand times before.

Spock sighed, looking down at the crumpled body of his friend. Jim did not appear to have sustained any major injuries. His nose was bleeding but probably not broken; aside from that he seemed mostly undamaged. Though he was sure to be covered in bruises by morning. And the headache was already beginning, obviously.

The Vulcan breathed an inward sigh of relief, but struggled to control the surge of anger still coursing through him.

"Captain, I will never understand your ability to start a fight in such a brief period of time. I left you alone for all of two minutes, thirty seven sec-"

Jim shrugged. "Didn't start it."

"Really?” Spock replied, eyebrows rising in mock surprise, “Then I take it that, in your opinion, you did nothing to warrant the very one-sided beating you just sustained? Is that the case?"

Jim continued to stare at the ground; shrugged his shoulders. "Yep. Didn't do anything."

Spock narrowed his eyes in disbelief, leaning closer to Jim's retreating form. The other man seemed to be attempting to fully become one with the park bench.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that? That you did nothi-"

Jim sat up suddenly, pushing Spock away with a shout.

"Is it so hard to believe? I didn't start the fight, okay?! Can you just drop it? Thanks for saving my ass again, Spock. I appreciate it; I do. I just... Why do you always have to give me the third degree like I did someth-”

Spock cut him off without a word; moving into his personal space and forcing Jim to take a step back.

“Captain. You have a responsibility to your reputation as well as the reputation of your crew. I had thought these juvenile impulses were behind you. But if you continue to engage in such childish behavior, and further, continue refusing to accept responsibility for such behavio-”

Kirk lunged forward with a shout. “I was hitting on him! Okay? Jesus!"

Spock stood his ground; refusing to let this one go.

"No, Jim! It is not okay. You hit a man? And, in your judgment, that action was not indicative of starting a fight? Really Jim, what did you expe-"

Kirk slammed his fists into Spock's chest and pushed him away in disgust.

"No, you idiot! Not hitting him; hitting on him!" He whirled away, putting his bloodied face in his hands.

Spock stood silent, one finely shaped eyebrow going up in surprise. Oh.

"He got pissed off; started going on about how he was gonna teach my..." he winced at even saying the word, "faggot ass to ever come in a straight bar again... and..."

Jim looked up into the night sky and sighed. "I had to fight back Spock. He just... suddenly he wasn't this cute guy anymore. He was every douchebag linebacker that ever beat me up in high school. I just got so mad."

He touched the tip of his nose gingerly. "Not that it helped much. Guy was like fighting a freight train."

The silence of the street was heavy around them and as the seconds ticked by Kirk grew more and more uncomfortable. Ugh, what a shitty night.

"Guess I wasn't his type; ya know?" he chuckled nervously.

Spock still said nothing.

Jim tugged at his jacket, wrapping it closer around his bruised body. He shifted his weight a bit. His right knee hurt like hell. Great. It was going to be a long walk home.

"You know what? Just. Forget it. Doesn't matter. Can we please just go home?" Jim said, and began walking.

"Stop. Jim."

He turned around.

Spock was still standing at the park bench, fists balled at his sides, mouth hanging open.

"Do you mean to tell me... You wanted to go to bed with that man?"

The shock plastered across Spock's face would have been comical at any other time. 

Jim looked away, shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Guess I really was drunk, huh?" he laughed, then winced. Pathetic. He must sound so pathetic.

Spock was right, Jim thought. He hadn't grown up at all. Still just a dumb ass kid lookin' to get laid.

"Captain." Spock was moving toward him, hands shoved into his coat pockets. "We should get you back to the Enterprise--to sickbay."

Jim winced at the idea of seeing Bones just now, and shook his head. "No, no, it's really not all that bad. Let's just go to the hotel and... I think I got some Bandaids..."

Spock was in his personal space again, but stopped just in front of him.

"You are right. Doctor McCoy will be out enjoying his own leave, no doubt."

Spock's eyes locked on to his, and there was some new and hidden meaning there that Jim couldn't interpret.

"However," Spock leaned imperceptibly closer.

"I believe I am quite capable of attending to your injuries, Captain."


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