Starfleet Academy Annual Newly-Enlisted Cadets' Orientation Carnival [1/1]
Name: Starfleet Academy Annual Newly-Enlisted Cadets' Orientation Carnival [1/1]
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Forget canon, Bones first met Kirk at the Academy's Annual Carnival. AT THE KISSING BOOTH."
Notes: Written for the kink meme. This may actually be my favorite thing that I've written for the ST XI fandom so far. Considering there's 65 pages of fic sitting on my computer at this time (not including this one), I think that's saying a lot. Un-beta'd.
Leonard McCoy hated carnivals. He hated balloons. He most especially hated clowns, those creepy little bastards. In fact, one might even say that he hated fun. It would be an incorrect assumption (he liked certain activities, none of which were present at the moment), but fairly close to the truth, nonetheless.
So what was he doing at Starfleet Academy's Annual Newly-Enlisted Cadets' Orientation Carnival? Well, it went something like this:
Leonard had climbed on a shuttle, half-drunk and all-miserable, thrown up on a few cadets, flown into Starfleet, and showed up at the main building to complete the enlistment process. Then he'd been assigned a room (thankfully, a single with an attached kitchenette and bathroom) and given a selection of uniforms to choose from. They came in red, red, and, unsurprisingly, red. Leonard chose the red one, and was given a few pairs of them to change into later.
He didn't have much else to his name at that point, so he settled in to his small little dorm room and fell asleep on the mattress, using his jacket as a blanket and his newly-acquired uniforms as a pillow.
Then next day he'd woken up (rather early, might he add) to a rather annoying alarm ringing from the comm installed at the front door. He accessed it using the credentials he'd been given yesterday to find a vivid picture of a Starfleet admin who looked rather bored.
"Oh, Dr. McCoy. We've been ringing you for a while."
"Some people like to sleep at this time," Leonard informed her.
"That's nice," she had said. "Your presence is required at the Starfleet Academy Annual Newly-Enlisted Cadets' Orientation Carnival, as one of the newest members of Starfleet's medical track."
"The whatsit?" Leonard asked.
She had repeated the name, which was much too tiresome for Leonard to think about that early in the morning. "Why-- my classes don't even start until Monday!" He wasn't whining. Whining was for children and immature college students and bitchy ex-wives.
"You're a new cadet, so you're acquired to attend the Starfleet Academy blahblahblahblah. Think of it as New Student Orientation. You remember it from college, right? Or maybe you don't: it must have been a long time ago for you--"
Leonard terminated the connection. It was way too early in the morning for this shit.
____
So he'd arrived at the stupid carnival and made his way over to the medical information booth, where the second-year cadets who were running it became simultaneously frightened and impressed by his attitude and his status as a doctor, despite being a cadet. And then they'd done the unthinkable.
One cadet, a short boy with greasy hair, approached him timidly. The group he'd departed from watched him from the other side of the booth, looking wary for their comrade. "Hey, um... Len. Can I call you Len?"
"No. Never," he replied with a glower.
"Oh, uh... alright then. Well, the other cadets and I were thinking that since you're already a doctor, maybe you'd be more qualified to handle the booth-- you know, just for a while. Because we want to get lunch, and you got here late so you haven't been here this whole time, and--"
Leonard sighed and pressed a hand to his face. There was no need to scare the kid off. He'd just been in a terrible mood since he'd left what had been his home a scant month ago, and he couldn't help taking it out on the people around him. But he was in Starfleet now, turning over a new leaf or whatever idiom was appropriate for the situation. A fresh start.
So he took pity on the kid and inclined his head slightly in agreement. "Yeah, fine. Go get some food, kid."
The boy's eyes widened in surprise and he almost seemed to lift off the ground with relief. "Thanks, Len! You're the greatest!" He dashed toward his group, which in turned vanished from the tent just as quickly.
"Don't fucking call me Len!" Leonard yelled after them.
Still. He felt pretty good about himself, trying to be nice despite all the shit he'd been put through in the last few weeks. He wasn't particularly angry at the other cadets for ditching him to run this stupid information booth all by himself.
Ten minutes later, he still wasn't angry.
Fourteen minutes later, he was kind of pissed.
Fifteen minutes passed and he was fucking livid.
He muttered some curses to himself and left the booth to find the bathroom. He had to piss, dammit, and it wasn't like anybody was inquiring important information.
So he made his way to the bathroom and damn, the line was long. So far back he'd had to walk to the front to verify that it was, indeed, the bathroom, and then he'd had to walk back and get into the line, which had extended by twelve people while he'd been checking.
So he stood and he stood and he fucking stood until there were only a few people left in front of him. And then he realized that he was in the wrong line. Because somewhere along the road, the bathroom line had merged with the kissing booth line. Which, Leonard noted, was equally long, if not longer. He wondered if he'd even gotten into the right line in the first place.
He tried to scoot toward the bathroom line, but the few murderous glances he got indicated that trying to slip in would probably be a bad idea. And by the time he'd realized that, he was the next up in the kissing booth.
"Well, hey," a smooth, almost cocky-sounding voice intoned. "Finally, someone who looks like they won't be a fountain of saliva."
Leonard snapped his head forward. Sitting at the booth, with one foot up on the table as he casually reclined in his chair, was a young blonde man in cadet reds. The jacket was left open to reveal strong, toned flesh hidden by a tight black shirt underneath. The man looked younger then Leonard, with eyes that sparkled blue with youth, an attractive, almost ridiculously pretty face, and cropped blonde hair that was being brushed this way and that by the slight breeze blowing across the open green.
"Uh." Leonard stood frozen for a moment. He did not think this cadet was pretty. He did not. (He totally did.) "Actually, I'm just here for the bathroom. I got in the wrong line."
The blonde laughed. "Yeah, so did I. Didn't realize it till I got to the front. Then they recruited me to take over the booth." He snorted. "Hell, I would have volunteered. Jim Kirk." He stuck out a hand.
Leonard eyed it warily. "Yeah, I think I'll just go back and wait in line."
"You're going to piss yourself," Jim grinned at him even as he withdrew his neglected handshake. "Listen. Do you know why they put the kissing booth next to the bathroom?"
"No. And please don't tell me. I might throw up on you." He glanced behind him. People were peering over the shoulders of those in front of them, eager to see what the fuss was all about. Those who could see what the hold0up was did not look happy at all. "Seriously, though. I'm going to get in line for the bathroom now."
"They put the kissing booth next to the bathroom," Jim continued in a conspiratorial voice, as if Leonard had never said anything, "because I'm so good that people have to go and relieve themselves after they're done. If you know what I mean." He winked.
Leonard felt a scowl spread across his face. "Yes. I do know what you mean, there's no need to wink. Also, that doesn't make sense: you got in line for the bathroom: so obviously, the booth has been here for a while. Now, I'm going to leave--"
"Oh, c'mon!" Jim pouted a bit. "That may not be why the booth's next to the bathroom, but it is why the line is so long! And it's true, too." Then he smirked. "I think you're just afraid that I'll be right, and you'll have to do the walk of shame."
"God." Leonard pressed a palm to his face and dragged it downward. "How the hell does Starfleet let people like you in?"
"Hey, hurry up!" someone down the line yelled, and many others called out similar phrases, some less polite. Jim smirked even more, if possible, and raised a suggestive eyebrow. "C'mon, you heard 'em," he said, leaning in toward Leonard. "Hurry up."
Leonard sighed, resigned. He'd already lost his home, his dignity, and basically most of his old life. What else was there to give up?
"Fine, whatever. Let's get this over with. Don't make it gross--"
Jim clutched his chin, pulled him in close, and pressed their lips together. Leonard's mouth opened in surprise, and the younger man took this as his invitation to enter his mouth. Jim was moist, hot, slick against his tongue, pushing and pulling and sucking in all the right places, at all the right times. Leonard felt his knees go weak, felt his arms slip around Jim's neck, felt a warm embrace as Jim's arms wrapped around his waist. And it didn't seem like it was possible but then Jim went deeper, pushed and then retreated to drag his teeth his teeth over Leonard's bottom lip.
And Leonard was reciprocating. By God, he was just as active in the kiss as Jim, if not more. It'd been so long since he'd been so close to someone, so long since he'd been touched so intimately. He'd been divorced a month ago but their marriage had ended long before that, and he hadn't-- they didn't-- Jim's hands were sliding southward, brushing against the small of his back and then lower--
And then they broke apart for air. And then Leonard realized that, yes, his mouth had just been thoroughly fucked by a frisky young cadet who now wore the biggest shit-eating grin he'd ever seen. In public. In front of everybody. The line behind him was silent. The booths around them were silence.
And he was hard.
"Goddammit!" He shoved his way into the bathroom line, opened the door, and then thrust the poor cadet who'd been on the seat into to open air. And then he locked the door, dropped his pants, and gave himself a few quick, hard strokes before coming into the ceramic bowl below.
Of course, he didn't leave right after that. Hell no. He sat on the seat cover and told anyone who came by to go fuck themselves, and after a good twenty minutes he decided it was safe to come out.
Of course, it wasn't, because even though the line for the kissing booth was completely gone, it was only because Jim Kirk was leaning next to the door, all smiles and blue eyes shining with glee.
"I'm giving you a nickname, now. It's totally appropriate. How does Bones sound? You know, to commemorate our first meeting?"
A million things ran through Leonard's mind, few of which actually made sense and all of which were just a bit murderous, and in the end he decided not to think at all. "It's Leonard McCoy." He didn't offer a hand because, hello, it was obvious what he'd been doing in there, and he wanted to wash his hands first.
"So, Bones." Jim smacked his hand against Leonard's back as they walked toward the area where the sinks were located. "I think this is what people would call the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"They'd be wrong," Leonard grumbled.
(But it totally was.)
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Forget canon, Bones first met Kirk at the Academy's Annual Carnival. AT THE KISSING BOOTH."
Notes: Written for the kink meme. This may actually be my favorite thing that I've written for the ST XI fandom so far. Considering there's 65 pages of fic sitting on my computer at this time (not including this one), I think that's saying a lot. Un-beta'd.
Leonard McCoy hated carnivals. He hated balloons. He most especially hated clowns, those creepy little bastards. In fact, one might even say that he hated fun. It would be an incorrect assumption (he liked certain activities, none of which were present at the moment), but fairly close to the truth, nonetheless.
So what was he doing at Starfleet Academy's Annual Newly-Enlisted Cadets' Orientation Carnival? Well, it went something like this:
Leonard had climbed on a shuttle, half-drunk and all-miserable, thrown up on a few cadets, flown into Starfleet, and showed up at the main building to complete the enlistment process. Then he'd been assigned a room (thankfully, a single with an attached kitchenette and bathroom) and given a selection of uniforms to choose from. They came in red, red, and, unsurprisingly, red. Leonard chose the red one, and was given a few pairs of them to change into later.
He didn't have much else to his name at that point, so he settled in to his small little dorm room and fell asleep on the mattress, using his jacket as a blanket and his newly-acquired uniforms as a pillow.
Then next day he'd woken up (rather early, might he add) to a rather annoying alarm ringing from the comm installed at the front door. He accessed it using the credentials he'd been given yesterday to find a vivid picture of a Starfleet admin who looked rather bored.
"Oh, Dr. McCoy. We've been ringing you for a while."
"Some people like to sleep at this time," Leonard informed her.
"That's nice," she had said. "Your presence is required at the Starfleet Academy Annual Newly-Enlisted Cadets' Orientation Carnival, as one of the newest members of Starfleet's medical track."
"The whatsit?" Leonard asked.
She had repeated the name, which was much too tiresome for Leonard to think about that early in the morning. "Why-- my classes don't even start until Monday!" He wasn't whining. Whining was for children and immature college students and bitchy ex-wives.
"You're a new cadet, so you're acquired to attend the Starfleet Academy blahblahblahblah. Think of it as New Student Orientation. You remember it from college, right? Or maybe you don't: it must have been a long time ago for you--"
Leonard terminated the connection. It was way too early in the morning for this shit.
____
So he'd arrived at the stupid carnival and made his way over to the medical information booth, where the second-year cadets who were running it became simultaneously frightened and impressed by his attitude and his status as a doctor, despite being a cadet. And then they'd done the unthinkable.
One cadet, a short boy with greasy hair, approached him timidly. The group he'd departed from watched him from the other side of the booth, looking wary for their comrade. "Hey, um... Len. Can I call you Len?"
"No. Never," he replied with a glower.
"Oh, uh... alright then. Well, the other cadets and I were thinking that since you're already a doctor, maybe you'd be more qualified to handle the booth-- you know, just for a while. Because we want to get lunch, and you got here late so you haven't been here this whole time, and--"
Leonard sighed and pressed a hand to his face. There was no need to scare the kid off. He'd just been in a terrible mood since he'd left what had been his home a scant month ago, and he couldn't help taking it out on the people around him. But he was in Starfleet now, turning over a new leaf or whatever idiom was appropriate for the situation. A fresh start.
So he took pity on the kid and inclined his head slightly in agreement. "Yeah, fine. Go get some food, kid."
The boy's eyes widened in surprise and he almost seemed to lift off the ground with relief. "Thanks, Len! You're the greatest!" He dashed toward his group, which in turned vanished from the tent just as quickly.
"Don't fucking call me Len!" Leonard yelled after them.
Still. He felt pretty good about himself, trying to be nice despite all the shit he'd been put through in the last few weeks. He wasn't particularly angry at the other cadets for ditching him to run this stupid information booth all by himself.
Ten minutes later, he still wasn't angry.
Fourteen minutes later, he was kind of pissed.
Fifteen minutes passed and he was fucking livid.
He muttered some curses to himself and left the booth to find the bathroom. He had to piss, dammit, and it wasn't like anybody was inquiring important information.
So he made his way to the bathroom and damn, the line was long. So far back he'd had to walk to the front to verify that it was, indeed, the bathroom, and then he'd had to walk back and get into the line, which had extended by twelve people while he'd been checking.
So he stood and he stood and he fucking stood until there were only a few people left in front of him. And then he realized that he was in the wrong line. Because somewhere along the road, the bathroom line had merged with the kissing booth line. Which, Leonard noted, was equally long, if not longer. He wondered if he'd even gotten into the right line in the first place.
He tried to scoot toward the bathroom line, but the few murderous glances he got indicated that trying to slip in would probably be a bad idea. And by the time he'd realized that, he was the next up in the kissing booth.
"Well, hey," a smooth, almost cocky-sounding voice intoned. "Finally, someone who looks like they won't be a fountain of saliva."
Leonard snapped his head forward. Sitting at the booth, with one foot up on the table as he casually reclined in his chair, was a young blonde man in cadet reds. The jacket was left open to reveal strong, toned flesh hidden by a tight black shirt underneath. The man looked younger then Leonard, with eyes that sparkled blue with youth, an attractive, almost ridiculously pretty face, and cropped blonde hair that was being brushed this way and that by the slight breeze blowing across the open green.
"Uh." Leonard stood frozen for a moment. He did not think this cadet was pretty. He did not. (He totally did.) "Actually, I'm just here for the bathroom. I got in the wrong line."
The blonde laughed. "Yeah, so did I. Didn't realize it till I got to the front. Then they recruited me to take over the booth." He snorted. "Hell, I would have volunteered. Jim Kirk." He stuck out a hand.
Leonard eyed it warily. "Yeah, I think I'll just go back and wait in line."
"You're going to piss yourself," Jim grinned at him even as he withdrew his neglected handshake. "Listen. Do you know why they put the kissing booth next to the bathroom?"
"No. And please don't tell me. I might throw up on you." He glanced behind him. People were peering over the shoulders of those in front of them, eager to see what the fuss was all about. Those who could see what the hold0up was did not look happy at all. "Seriously, though. I'm going to get in line for the bathroom now."
"They put the kissing booth next to the bathroom," Jim continued in a conspiratorial voice, as if Leonard had never said anything, "because I'm so good that people have to go and relieve themselves after they're done. If you know what I mean." He winked.
Leonard felt a scowl spread across his face. "Yes. I do know what you mean, there's no need to wink. Also, that doesn't make sense: you got in line for the bathroom: so obviously, the booth has been here for a while. Now, I'm going to leave--"
"Oh, c'mon!" Jim pouted a bit. "That may not be why the booth's next to the bathroom, but it is why the line is so long! And it's true, too." Then he smirked. "I think you're just afraid that I'll be right, and you'll have to do the walk of shame."
"God." Leonard pressed a palm to his face and dragged it downward. "How the hell does Starfleet let people like you in?"
"Hey, hurry up!" someone down the line yelled, and many others called out similar phrases, some less polite. Jim smirked even more, if possible, and raised a suggestive eyebrow. "C'mon, you heard 'em," he said, leaning in toward Leonard. "Hurry up."
Leonard sighed, resigned. He'd already lost his home, his dignity, and basically most of his old life. What else was there to give up?
"Fine, whatever. Let's get this over with. Don't make it gross--"
Jim clutched his chin, pulled him in close, and pressed their lips together. Leonard's mouth opened in surprise, and the younger man took this as his invitation to enter his mouth. Jim was moist, hot, slick against his tongue, pushing and pulling and sucking in all the right places, at all the right times. Leonard felt his knees go weak, felt his arms slip around Jim's neck, felt a warm embrace as Jim's arms wrapped around his waist. And it didn't seem like it was possible but then Jim went deeper, pushed and then retreated to drag his teeth his teeth over Leonard's bottom lip.
And Leonard was reciprocating. By God, he was just as active in the kiss as Jim, if not more. It'd been so long since he'd been so close to someone, so long since he'd been touched so intimately. He'd been divorced a month ago but their marriage had ended long before that, and he hadn't-- they didn't-- Jim's hands were sliding southward, brushing against the small of his back and then lower--
And then they broke apart for air. And then Leonard realized that, yes, his mouth had just been thoroughly fucked by a frisky young cadet who now wore the biggest shit-eating grin he'd ever seen. In public. In front of everybody. The line behind him was silent. The booths around them were silence.
And he was hard.
"Goddammit!" He shoved his way into the bathroom line, opened the door, and then thrust the poor cadet who'd been on the seat into to open air. And then he locked the door, dropped his pants, and gave himself a few quick, hard strokes before coming into the ceramic bowl below.
Of course, he didn't leave right after that. Hell no. He sat on the seat cover and told anyone who came by to go fuck themselves, and after a good twenty minutes he decided it was safe to come out.
Of course, it wasn't, because even though the line for the kissing booth was completely gone, it was only because Jim Kirk was leaning next to the door, all smiles and blue eyes shining with glee.
"I'm giving you a nickname, now. It's totally appropriate. How does Bones sound? You know, to commemorate our first meeting?"
A million things ran through Leonard's mind, few of which actually made sense and all of which were just a bit murderous, and in the end he decided not to think at all. "It's Leonard McCoy." He didn't offer a hand because, hello, it was obvious what he'd been doing in there, and he wanted to wash his hands first.
"So, Bones." Jim smacked his hand against Leonard's back as they walked toward the area where the sinks were located. "I think this is what people would call the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"They'd be wrong," Leonard grumbled.
(But it totally was.)