Title: Stumbling, But Still Looking Hella Fine
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kirk/McCoy, OFC
Rating: R
Words: ~2600
Summary: The charming story of a boy whose love for jello shots and oral sex is transcended only by his love for his put-upon best friend.
Notes: Get out your crack pipes, kids. I have absolutely no excuse for this. None. I wouldn't even post it if I didn't like embarrassing myself. This is not even good. You have been warned, haha. Some of the lines in this story are taken directly from textsfromlastnight.com, so if it looks familiar, well, you shouldn't have posted it on the internet. Obviously the only song you should listen to while reading this is “Hot Mess”, available for download along with other Cobra Starship classics
here.
Disclaimer: Soooo not mine.
***
Who likes poetry? Anybody? Ah, fuck it. Me neither.
“You're a hot mess,
and I'm falling for you.
And I'm like, 'HOT DAMN,
lemme make you my boo.'
'Cause you can
shake it, shake it, shake it.
Yeah, you know what to do.
You're a hot mess.
I'm lovin' it.
Hell yes.”
- Gabe Saporta (1979-)
***
It's not funny. Really, it's not. And it's not smokin' hot either. No way. McCoy has to repeat these two sentiments to himself more often than he'd like.
Still, though. He can't help but smile darkly when Jim is drunk out of his mind and dancing on the table with an Andorian who swears she's not a prostitute. Jim's got glitter all over him, God knows where that came from, and he's moving his hips in a way that makes him look like he's having a seizure. He is, however, doing a marvelous job of not spilling his drink, which he got for free by sitting on the bar and giving the bartender a generous view of his package in tight leather pants.
In spite of all this, McCoy can't help but think, Damn, I'd still hit that.
***
Jim has always been wild. His teachers figured it out when he was in the third grade and it was his turn to be line-leader. 8-year-old Jim tried to “lead” his classmates down the street to the liquor store. The local authorities figured it out later when they busted him high out of his mind at one too many raves.
Blame it on a dead daddy, a mother gone, and stepfather who didn't care, blah blah blah, whatever. Jim's really not interested, so he doesn't think anyone else should be either. Starfleet can put a damper on his fun, but they can't make him stop having it altogether. There are way too many bars and nightclubs in San Fran for the admiralty to have them all covered.
Anyway, Jim decides, as long as it's not affecting his grades, he's entitled to having a good time. Jim doesn't know why everyone thinks he all does is drink, anyway. He goes to class on Wednesdays.
***
415: GUESS WOH I JUS BLEW
1-415: I feel like all of our conversations start this way.
415: yopu didnjt guees bvonesss, so imm jusy gonsa telkl youi! Tht hotttrtt guuy fromm teh bare the otherd nightfr!
1-415: How drunk are you right now?
415: Verrrryyuuiyyyy
1-415: Are you home?
415: ummk nop, noth yett
1-415: It's 5 in the morning, Jim.
415: io partyy alll nitee, bnones. Mikckey d's is stiil serfvin dinnere, sooo itys stilll nighy!
1-415: Well, call me if you find yourself face down in a gutter. Otherwise, I'll talk to you later.
1-415: willk do bff!!!
McCoy hears tell that there are people who take Jim Kirk seriously. Who the fuck are these people.
***
They're both a little - okay, a lot - drunk when they hook-up for the first time in the backseat of a taxi. The driver is less than amused, and McCoy is sheepish enough to tip him heavily but not embarrassed enough make Jim stop fondling his dick. It's a low, but Jim Kirk has a way of making people do incredibly stupid things.
***
Call from (415) 981-5532 to (415) 312-7789
5532: THESE DREAMS something something WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES! EVERY SECOND OF THE NIGHT I LEAD ANOTHER LIFE!
7789: Jim, is that you? Goddammit, what do you want?
5532: Oh, you picked up! Hi, Bones! Wanna have phone sex?
7789: WHAT? No. You can't mix Heart and phone sex, Jim. That's not how the world works.
5532: What if I hadn't opened with the Heart?
7789: … Maybe.
5532: Should I hang up, call back, and start by asking for phone sex?
7789: Please.
5532: Awesome!
***
If Jim looks a little wrecked when he shows up to class on Wednesday morning, it's not unexpected. He did do 17 shots, and from what McCoy could gather from their garbled phone conversation at three in the morning, had given at least two blowjobs by that point.
Jim sits down next to him in History of Interstellar Trade Agreements smelling like tequila, cum, and a distinct lack of shame. It's the first time McCoy thinks that maybe he's in over his head.
***
“Are we in a fight, Bones?” Jim asks point-blank as they're leaving the club.
“No, Jim,” McCoy says shortly as he hails a cab.
“Then why are you being such a dick?”
“I'm not being a dick.”
“Yeah, you are,” Jim says as he gets in the cab. “You wouldn't touch me, you wouldn't let me touch you, and you've been weird and snappy all night. I actually think you've redefined 'dick'.”
“It's just...” McCoy runs a hand distractedly through his hair. “I can't do this with you, Jim.”
Jim's face is blank. “Ride in a cab?”
“No, you idiot. This. Get drunk every other night and fuck you on a regular basis.”
“Why not?” Jim looks honestly confused.
McCoy sighs and tries to explain. “I'm just tired, I guess, of drinking Bud for breakfast.”
“Should I start buying Mich instead?”
“Goddammit, Jim!”
***
Jim thinks maybe he should reevaluate his life when he wakes up on the edge of a fountain with a bored teenage girl sitting next to him.
The girl gives him a look of pity before handing him his phone. “Your phone's been going off for half-an-hour. Your friend, McCoy, I think he said his name was? He was very nice.”
“Huh?” Jim asks, scrubbing at his eyes.
The girl just rolls her eyes and continues. “He said to tell you to get on the next bus back to campus because you've got class at 9.”
“How nice of him to remind me.” Jim's head is pounding and his mouth is dry. Today is not going to be a good day. “Do you know what time the next bus comes?”
“5 minutes ago.” The girl inspects her nails.
“What?” Jim yelps. “And you didn't wake me up?!” Some part of him realizes that he is yelling at a high school girl on a sidewalk in San Francisco, but a bigger part of him doesn't give a fuck.
She shrugs. “You wouldn't wake up. Don't freak out, though. My friend is coming to give me a ride to school and we got right by the Starfleet campus.”
Jim settles. “That's... very considerate of you.” Then he looks sideways at the girl. “Wait, how do you know I'm not a sex offender who just poses as a careless drunk? Whoa, wait again, how do you know I'm in Starfleet?”
“I went through your wallet. And had my dad run your name through the computer down at the station.”
Jim snorts. “Damn girl, you are way too good at this.”
The girl smiles. “I'm Macy. And you're James T. Kirk.”
Jim sticks his hand out. “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Macy.”
Macy ignores the hand and folds her arms over her chest. “So is passing out in public places a common occurrence for you?”
Jim withdraws his hand. “Kind of. It's just that my friend who usually takes care of me, the guy who I call at 4 in the morning when I can't remember how to get back to campus... well, I think we're in a fight.”
“Was it him I talked to on the phone?” Macy asks.
This girl is too smart for her own good, Jim thinks. She is going to make someone miserable one day, and they're going to love it.
***
415: What did i do at that bar last night?
1-415: What do you mean?
415: I woke up with five singles in my underwear! I'm suspicious but pleased nonetheless.
1-415: Oh my god.
***
“Ughhhh,” Jim moans as he wakes up, blinking the sunlight out of his eyes.
“Apparently you like to pass out in the same places,” says a familiar voice from his right. He looks up to find Macy scowling at him.
“I guess so,” Jim says, sitting up and stretching his legs. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Around 8:15.”
Jim sighs in relief. “I don't have class until this afternoon. Score!” His fist pump earns him an eye roll.
He laughs. “My best friend does that eye roll thing that all the time. You remind me of him, actually, except that he's a bad-tempered, divorced surgeon and you're... not.”
“Are you still fighting with him?” Macy asks.
“I can't tell,” Jim says as he stretches his arms over his head. “I didn't even know we were fighting until he shut down on me.”
“What do you think he's upset about?”
Jim is silent for a moment. “Well, our relationship sort of changed recently, and I think he's just hesitant to get involved with me that way. I'm sort of a mess, if you hadn't noticed.”
“How could I miss it?” Macy asks under her breath.
***
Call from (415) 312-7789 to (415) 981-5532
7789: HELLO? YEAH, GET IT GIRL!
5532: Jim? Why is it so loud? Where are you?
7789: BONES? IS THAT YOU? YEAH, BABE, I'LL HAVE ANOTHER.
5532: Dammit Jim, you're not still at the club, are you?
7789: THE PARTY GOT PRETTY BITCHIN' AFTER YOU LEFT! WHY ARE YOU STILL UP, ANYWAY? YOU WENT HOME LIKE TWO HOURS AGO!
5532: Your roommate called me when you weren't home at five in the morning.
7789: OH, IS THAT WHAT TIME IT IS?
5532: Now it's 5:15.
7789: OH, OKAY. HEY GAILA, FORGET THAT DRINK. MY BF CALLED, I HAVE TO BAIL.
5532: About damn time. What's a BF, anyway?
7789: BOYYYFRIEND!
5532: Shit.
***
“Macy, is this how you spell 'cock'?”
“What are you sending him?!” Macy yelps.
It's 8 A.M. and Jim's had a bad night. He's still mostly drunk and feeling melancholy. When he starts drunk-texting his best friend/fuck-buddy/boyfriend or whatever he is, Macy can see that this not going to end well. When her friend Rachel shows up to wait with her for her ride, Macy wishes silently that she could sink into the ground and die.
“Who are you texting?” Rachel asks.
“My ex-boyfriend. Or my best friend. Idk, we're in a weird spot right now.”
Macy scowls. “He was never your boyfriend, Jim. Also, did you just say 'idk'?”
“Details, Macy!” Jim says, waving his arms ineffectually and almost dropping his comm into the fountain. “We had sex. Multiple times. And we're best friends. We were together at least a little bit! That gives me the right to drunk text him.”
“That also gives him the right to ignore your drunk ass,” Macy mutters. “Anyway,” she says, louder, “you're acting like a category five bitch, Jim. Don't you think there's better ways to get him back to being your... boyfriend-” (she spits out the word like used toothpaste) “-than to flood his phone with drunk texts?”
Jim looks confused. “Like what?”
Macy rolls her eyes. “Like, I don't know, say, being sober once in a blue moon?”
Jim snorts. “Macy, let's be realistic here.”
***
When Macy throws his comm into the fountain, Jim is persuaded to take her a little more seriously. Rachel is watching them like they're a particularly vapid VH1 reality show, and Jim can kind of see where she's coming from. Here he is, a 23-year-old cadet with dashing good looks and a liquor still on his breath being chastised by a 15-year-old girl with the biggest metaphorical cajones he's come across.
Macy is about a millisecond from pulling out the index finger of authority when Jim decides to leave both of them some dignity and give in. “Okay,” he says, holding up his hands in defeat. “Okay, I will make a concentrated effort to step away from the two for ones.”
“And no more drunken sex acts?”
“Oh come on, how am I supposed to have any - ”
“Jim!”
“Alright, alright.”
“And this is the end of the drunk texts and questionably-timed calls?”
“Well, I actually think those things are part of my charm.”
Macy looks unamused.
Jim sighs. “Fine.”
“Good. Now go get him, tiger.” Macy smiles.
Jim laughs. “That was, like, the lamest thing you've ever said.”
“How about this: get the hell out of here before I call the cops on your drunk ass.”
Jim grins and starts to stroll off. “Way more in character.”
***
Jim sends McCoy a message the next day with an invitation to meet for lunch. When the doctor shows up to the dining hall, he looks like he has something to say. Jim can read it in the set of his shoulders and the odd quirk of his lips he gets when he's thinking too hard. McCoy sits down across from him.
“Jim, I wanted to tell you - ”
“Bones, there's something I have to - ”
A pause.
“I really just want you to know - ”
“I decided that I need to - ”
A more sheepish pause.
McCoy clears his throat. “Let me go first. I know you think that I'm mad at you most of the time, but the truth is that I'm mad about you, as stupid as that sounds, and I realize how really fucking stupid that sounds. You never saw a mixed drink you didn't like, and I don't even want to think about how many people's genitals you've had your mouth on, and you think you're hot shit, but I love it, god help me. You've got it, whatever it is. You've got it in spades, Jim. So I'm not mad or anything.... as much as I think you party a ridiculous amount and are probably going to need a liver transplant in the two years. It's you, and I'm okay with it.”
Jim sits back in his chair, a little bit stunned. “Wait, so, you came here to today to tell me that you're okay with me being a douchebag party boy? Because I totally came here today to tell you that I'm done being a douchebag party boy! That's, like, the most ridiculous of coincidences.”
McCoy raises his eyebrow.“What? Are you saying you're willing to slow down? Not get trashed every other night?”
Jim smiles. “Yeah, Bones. I can see this thing with you going somewhere that's not the county lock-up.”
McCoy smirks. “Are you saying I'm a good influence?”
“Not so much 'good' as 'stabilizing.' Shoulder to lean on, that sort of thing.”
“Shoulder to puke on, up to this point.”
“I admit, your uniforms have been ill-used.”
“So... what exactly are we doing?”
“Being boyfriends?”
“How old are you?”
“Boyyfrienddssss~!” Jim wiggles his fingers in McCoy's face.
“Best keep those fingers to yourself if you like them.”
“Come on, Bones, say it with me! Boyyyfriendsss!”
“Jim, I will put my fist right in your face, so help me.”
Jim grins. Being with Bones beats a Jack & Coke (or ten) any day.
END.
End Note: Somewhere in there it became the Macy show. Ah, whatever, every poorly written crack story needs a teenage girl with an attitude problem. Anyway, please comment and tell me that you forgive me for this atrocity. I promise that I am writing other things! A high school AU (I KNOW, I KNOW), a college football AU (DON'T JUDGE ME), some JOANNA! fic, a schmoopy piece featuring the song “Still the One” by Orleans (I couldn't believe it either), and possibly an interlude to the Hamptons verse where Bones and Ina go to the florist and make delicious food. So you see that I just had to write this to get to those other, slightly less cracky endeavours!
ALSO, silly Skype, thinking I can call Jim and Bones. Don't you think I would have done that already if it were possible?
This A/N has gotten way too long, and is now DONE.