Nu!Trek Fic!
So...my keyboard at home has died and thus I'm only able to update a) at work b) on the netbook, when I can connect to the apartment's wifi. So...if I don't reply to comments for a bit, this is why. I'm going to Best Buy tomorrow for a new keyboard & The Sims 3 (yayz!), so this shouldn't last long ;)
ANYWAY FIC: (Kirk, Spock, McCoy Gen)
FANDOM: Star Trek Reboot
RATING: PG-13 for drinking, violence, and unseen sex
CHARACTERS: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
NOTES: I want my new trio to be buddies like the old trio! And so does Jim.
“I’m sorry,” Leonard McCoy blinked, sure he’d misunderstood, “What was that?”
“We’re going out,” Jim was giving him his most cocky, ‘trust me, this is going to be great’ smile, which was never a good sign, “The three of us.”
McCoy stared at him and glanced at Spock. Spock raised an eyebrow, which could’ve meant anything from “this is a great idea” or “you are both insane”; he couldn’t read the Vulcan yet.
“The three of us,” McCoy repeated. He tried to imagine Spock out at one of the dives Jim frequented, and failed.
“Yeah. You know, bonding.”
Spock regarded them both impassively, and Jim kept giving him that smile. McCoy shrugged and grabbed his jacket; he’d long since given up trying to talk Jim out of something once he had his mind set on it (even if it was something as ridiculous as taking a Vulcan out drinking).
“All right, let’s get this show on the road.”
“That’s the spirit, Bones! C’mon, Spock, we’re going to corrupt you.”
The Vulcan frowned, opened his mouth to speak, and McCoy talked over him:
“Just a saying,” he grinned, “Until we get you plastered, that is.”
Spock’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Just a saying,” Jim repeated, putting an arm around each of their shoulders, “Gentlemen, we’re heroes now. Let’s take advantage of that.”
Which is how Spock and McCoy end up sitting together at the bar while Jim disappears in to the bathroom with at least two giggly, tipsy female junior officers.
McCoy, who’s had a few drinks, is lecturing the bartender on the proper way to make a mint julep while Spock listens intently, looking mystified.
“Crushed ice, very important. And then you add-Spock, do Vulcans even drink alcohol?”
Spock blinks at McCoy’s sudden subject change, cocks his head to one side,
“Rarely; generally for social occasions among races who drink alcohol. There is a fermented beverage used in the-“
“Vulcan moonshine, huh?”
Spock frowns,
“I am unfamiliar-“
“Sounds like a good time,” McCoy claps him on the shoulder in that human gesture that Spock will never get used to, and turns back to the bartender, “Now like I was saying: you’ve got to add the mint leaves-“
And then Jim Kirk comes hurtling down the bar.
Spock’s eyebrows rise in the gesture that his new shipmates are learning expresses surprise, and the bartender looks annoyed; McCoy just picks his glass up out of Kirk’s path and takes a drink.
“Ah, hell,” he mutters.
Jim falls off the end of the bar just as the beefy security officer raging after him trips over McCoy’s conveniently outstretched foot to land face-first in the nearest table. Kirk pops up from behind the bar, licking at a split lip,
“Thanks, Bones.”
“And whose boyfriend is he?”
Jim shrugs,
“Who cares? Spock, duck.”
The Vulcan, surprisingly, makes no remark about Earth water fowl. Instead he simply ducks, just in time for bottle to fly past his head and break against the opposite wall.
Kirk, McCoy knows, has plenty of experience in brawling. But he’d wager that this is Spock’s first bar fight. Unless he counts Jim & Spock’s tussle on the Enterprise’s bridge.
“Captain-“ Spock begins, deftly sidestepping a meaty fist.
“Jim! Call me Jim!”
“Jim. I suggest that we depart before-“
“Leave?” Jim, looking far happier than anyone has a right to after getting punched in the face, breaks a bottle over the head of a giant of a man and follows it up with a solid punch that sends him sprawling, “Spock, we’re just getting warmed up!”
Spock is doing his best to deflect blows rather than strike back, and McCoy isn’t much of a fighter-he’s far too worried about injuring his hands, not to mention that whole ‘first do no harm’ thing-but manages to send a kick square in to the chest of one of their assailants that sends the other man back in to his comrades.
“Nice shot, Bones!”
McCoy fights the urge to turn and throttle his friend, and chances a look at Spock, “Fun, isn’t it?” he says drily.
“Fun?” Poor Spock’s eyebrows come together in puzzlement, even as he bashes a palm in to the face of one of their attackers. “I do not understand-“
He’s cut off by the wail of a security siren, which only seems to invigorate Kirk. McCoy heaves a sigh of annoyance, and Spock looks downright alarmed for a Vulcan.
“Hey, Spock,” Jim drawls, “How’s that pinch thing go, again?”
Spock looks up, nods once, and promptly closes his hand at Kirk’s shoulder. McCoy snorts with laughter as Spock hefts the unconscious Captain over his shoulder.
“You know, I think he might’ve wanted you to use that on the other guys.”
“Oh?” Spock gives him a purposely bland look, but there’s definite amusement in his eyes, “I beg your pardon, Doctor, I misunderstood.”
“I knew I liked you.”
ANYWAY FIC: (Kirk, Spock, McCoy Gen)
FANDOM: Star Trek Reboot
RATING: PG-13 for drinking, violence, and unseen sex
CHARACTERS: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
NOTES: I want my new trio to be buddies like the old trio! And so does Jim.
“I’m sorry,” Leonard McCoy blinked, sure he’d misunderstood, “What was that?”
“We’re going out,” Jim was giving him his most cocky, ‘trust me, this is going to be great’ smile, which was never a good sign, “The three of us.”
McCoy stared at him and glanced at Spock. Spock raised an eyebrow, which could’ve meant anything from “this is a great idea” or “you are both insane”; he couldn’t read the Vulcan yet.
“The three of us,” McCoy repeated. He tried to imagine Spock out at one of the dives Jim frequented, and failed.
“Yeah. You know, bonding.”
Spock regarded them both impassively, and Jim kept giving him that smile. McCoy shrugged and grabbed his jacket; he’d long since given up trying to talk Jim out of something once he had his mind set on it (even if it was something as ridiculous as taking a Vulcan out drinking).
“All right, let’s get this show on the road.”
“That’s the spirit, Bones! C’mon, Spock, we’re going to corrupt you.”
The Vulcan frowned, opened his mouth to speak, and McCoy talked over him:
“Just a saying,” he grinned, “Until we get you plastered, that is.”
Spock’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Just a saying,” Jim repeated, putting an arm around each of their shoulders, “Gentlemen, we’re heroes now. Let’s take advantage of that.”
Which is how Spock and McCoy end up sitting together at the bar while Jim disappears in to the bathroom with at least two giggly, tipsy female junior officers.
McCoy, who’s had a few drinks, is lecturing the bartender on the proper way to make a mint julep while Spock listens intently, looking mystified.
“Crushed ice, very important. And then you add-Spock, do Vulcans even drink alcohol?”
Spock blinks at McCoy’s sudden subject change, cocks his head to one side,
“Rarely; generally for social occasions among races who drink alcohol. There is a fermented beverage used in the-“
“Vulcan moonshine, huh?”
Spock frowns,
“I am unfamiliar-“
“Sounds like a good time,” McCoy claps him on the shoulder in that human gesture that Spock will never get used to, and turns back to the bartender, “Now like I was saying: you’ve got to add the mint leaves-“
And then Jim Kirk comes hurtling down the bar.
Spock’s eyebrows rise in the gesture that his new shipmates are learning expresses surprise, and the bartender looks annoyed; McCoy just picks his glass up out of Kirk’s path and takes a drink.
“Ah, hell,” he mutters.
Jim falls off the end of the bar just as the beefy security officer raging after him trips over McCoy’s conveniently outstretched foot to land face-first in the nearest table. Kirk pops up from behind the bar, licking at a split lip,
“Thanks, Bones.”
“And whose boyfriend is he?”
Jim shrugs,
“Who cares? Spock, duck.”
The Vulcan, surprisingly, makes no remark about Earth water fowl. Instead he simply ducks, just in time for bottle to fly past his head and break against the opposite wall.
Kirk, McCoy knows, has plenty of experience in brawling. But he’d wager that this is Spock’s first bar fight. Unless he counts Jim & Spock’s tussle on the Enterprise’s bridge.
“Captain-“ Spock begins, deftly sidestepping a meaty fist.
“Jim! Call me Jim!”
“Jim. I suggest that we depart before-“
“Leave?” Jim, looking far happier than anyone has a right to after getting punched in the face, breaks a bottle over the head of a giant of a man and follows it up with a solid punch that sends him sprawling, “Spock, we’re just getting warmed up!”
Spock is doing his best to deflect blows rather than strike back, and McCoy isn’t much of a fighter-he’s far too worried about injuring his hands, not to mention that whole ‘first do no harm’ thing-but manages to send a kick square in to the chest of one of their assailants that sends the other man back in to his comrades.
“Nice shot, Bones!”
McCoy fights the urge to turn and throttle his friend, and chances a look at Spock, “Fun, isn’t it?” he says drily.
“Fun?” Poor Spock’s eyebrows come together in puzzlement, even as he bashes a palm in to the face of one of their attackers. “I do not understand-“
He’s cut off by the wail of a security siren, which only seems to invigorate Kirk. McCoy heaves a sigh of annoyance, and Spock looks downright alarmed for a Vulcan.
“Hey, Spock,” Jim drawls, “How’s that pinch thing go, again?”
Spock looks up, nods once, and promptly closes his hand at Kirk’s shoulder. McCoy snorts with laughter as Spock hefts the unconscious Captain over his shoulder.
“You know, I think he might’ve wanted you to use that on the other guys.”
“Oh?” Spock gives him a purposely bland look, but there’s definite amusement in his eyes, “I beg your pardon, Doctor, I misunderstood.”
“I knew I liked you.”