I Wanna Be A Producer (1/?)
Title: I Wanna Be A Producer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,739
Fandom: Star Trek XI/The Producers
Pairing(s): Spock/Pike (eventually, very background), Sulu/Chekov
Summery: Wherein Kirk is a devious producer, Sulu is a bored-with-life accountant who dreams of being a producer (or a florist, he's not picky), Chekov is a not-so-innocent-and-doe-eyed Russian immigrant, McCoy is an ex-Nazi, and Pike is a flaming gay director with dreams of Grandeur.
It started, Hikaru suspected, from the second he got the notice telling him he was going to be doing the famed producer Jim Kirk's books. Now, as a generally calm man, Hikaru wasn't too upset about this, and, really, Jim Kirk was a man, just like anyone else in the world. Except he happened to be famous. The ex-King of Broadway. Everyone and everything that young Hikaru had always wanted to be.
Hikaru had packed his Number Two Dixon Ticonderoga Pencil and his glasses safely in his bag (not, no matter how many times his sister said it, a “murse”) and set off to find James T. Kirk, producer of plays and sexer of women. Hikaru could have - should have - told his scarier-than-his-mother-on-a-Tuesday-night-before-having-her-glass-of-wine boss to suck it, give someone else the job, anything to not have to do another book for some rich, skanky asshat who didn't know anything about life in general. The issue was that, well, Hikaru's boss was scarier than his mother on a Tuesday night before having her glass of wine.
It took a while longer than he'd expected to find the house - no, office (hardly) - and he was surprised when he did find it. Hikaru had been expecting a lavish mansion filled with ornate carpets and a big fireplace and bright lights and a classy study where Mr. Kirk read and selected his plays. He most certainly had not been expecting a shabby apartment - office - on the wrong side of town filled with newspapers, cardboard-and-duct-tape handyman jobs, and a lingering smell of something Hikaru was certain his grandmother wore mixed with something else that Hikaru didn't want to think about. Especially when he thought of his grandmother.
"Mr. Kirk? Hello? Are you in?" It hit Hikaru a bit late that he shouldn't have opened the door after knocking only once, but who was judging? And Mr. Kirk wasn't home anyway, so it really didn't matt-
"Whaddyawant?" came a rough voice, and Hikaru most certainly did not jump, nor did he squeal like a pig. The voice had come from the couch and Hikaru turned to face the most unkempt, dirty-looking man he'd seen since college.
"Mr. Kirk?" he asked in a small voice. "I came to do your books. I'm from Nero-and-Ayel's. I'm an accountant, sir."
"My boo - my books? Ok, sure." Kirk stood up, still groggy and obviously hung-over, when a knock came at the door.
"Who the fu -" Mr. Kirk changed his thought mid-sentence and raised his voice, "Who is it?" There was a slight hesitation behind the door.
"Embrace-Me-Caress-Me."
Hikaru was mostly sure his face was the color of one of two crayons he had had when he was younger - specifically, red-violet or white. Kirk panicked for a second before shoving Hikaru to the bathroom.
"But, sir, I don't -" Hikaru began.
"Just think of rain, a shower, anything that involves running water." Kirk proceeded to make a short sound that Hikaru assumed was supposed to resemble running water before slamming the bathroom door shut to, assumedly, answer the front door.
From what Hikaru could hear (and that definitely wasn't much), there seemed to be some kind of extremely frustrated Vulcan demanding to play dirty sex games with Kirk. And Kirk seemed only mildly panicked, which Hikaru gathered wasn't because the Vulcan was demanding sexual favors (which was altogether odd enough by itself. Hikaru didn't know much about Vulcans, but he was relatively sure that they didn't go around asking for sex from people.)
Against his better judgment, Hikaru opened the door, not bothering to use his jacket as a shield (he was 99.9% sure of what was going on, anyway, so it wouldn't do much use) and immediately regretted his decision.
There, on the couch (which still had newspapers and a wool blanket covering it) was Jim Kirk feeling up a Vulcan, who was purring. Purring. Hikaru didn't even know that anything besides cats could purr. He let out a strangled cry that was meant to sound vaguely manly, but ended up more in the 'traumatized-child-just-walked-in-on-his-parents' area. Kirk said something and rushed the Vulcan out the door, but Hikaru was glued to his spot and couldn’t fully process what had just happened, so all he heard was "… on Saturday." And he really hoped he won't be here Saturday. Or maybe he did, to stop whatever was going to happen from happening. Though, it was Kirk's life, and he could do what he wanted with it.
"You're an accountant, right?" Kirk said suddenly after sitting on the couch and examining Hikaru closely.
"Um...yes. Yes! I am."
"Well then...what're you doing peeking on me and my backers, eh? A voyeur, are you?"
Hikaru sputtered and couldn’t get a grip on what was going on (he also wasn’t entirely sure how Kirk went from "accountant" to "Peeping Tom"), and all he really wanted to do was sit down with Kirk's books and do with them what he will and then leave this place forever. Then, the ex-King dropped the conversation and walked over to his balcony while Hikaru continued to look at the books. He vaguely heard Kirk yell something at someone on the street, but he was too focused on making the numbers make sense to make the words appear. But...wait. That didn’t make sense. Kirk had raised $100,000, but the play had cost $98,000. Where was that last $2,000....?
"Mr. Kirk? Might I have a minute?"
"A minute? That's all?" Kirk sounded strangely suspicious.
"Yes, sir."
Kirk pulled out a stopwatch and pressed the button on top. "Go."
Hikaru wasn't the type to panic, but he hadn't ever done well under pressure. Tests in school had been the bane of his existence - particularly timed tests. Then, Kirk began to count down.
"Um, well, I was looking at the books, and I noticed that, uh, um. Um. Well, I looked at your books and-and-and. Mr. Kirk, I can't, please just...just let me speak. I can't function when you're timing me." Hikaru's breathing began to shallow out and he could feel his lungs constricting. It was terrible. He pulled out a small stone from his pocket and began rubbing it nervously. Kirk's counting stopped abruptly.
"What's that?"
"Huh? It's nothing, just a rock my grandmother sent me from one of the beaches in Japan. She grew up near there and -" Hikaru stopped, shocked at his sudden lack of rock. This had never happened to him before. It was really nothing too special but after everything that had happened to him today, the only thing he could think to do was scream."My rock! You-you-you...took it! Give it back! Give it back!" Kirk flustered, juggled the rock for a second and quickly handed it back to Hikaru, who spent another few minutes calming down. 'Deep breaths, in, out, in, out, in, out.'
"Um, well, Mr. Kirk, I looked at your books and, well, to be quite frank...there's two-thousand dollars that I can't find. Your show cost ninety-thousand, but you raised one hundred-thousand. Where's the other two-thousand?"
Kirk scoffed. "Ehh, so I went to an Orion bath, what's the big deal? No one cares, the show was a flop anyway. Can't you just hide it somewhere?"
"Sir, I could lose my job, I can't do that - "
"I'm a washed up producer; would you send me to jail?"
"I guess I could move a few decimal points around..."
"Thanks, man."
And they were again shrouded in silence.
"You know, Mr. Kirk, I've always wanted to be a producer. I never told my parents. My dad wanted me to have a sensible career - and an accountant is sensible. You're really the only person who knows."
"My advice to you, Mr. uhhh,"
"Sulu."
"Right, Mr. Sulu, keep it a secret." Well, at least Kirk was blunt and honest.
Suddenly, Hikaru had a thought."Huh. You could, theoretically, make more money with a flop than you could with a hit."
Kirk looked up from the couch. "What?"
"What?"
"What did you just say? Say it again."
Hikaru thought it wise to repeat his thought. "Well, let's assume that you're a dishonest man..."
Kirk interjected with, “Assume away, my dear Sulu.”
"You could, theoretically, raise one million dollars, put on your one-hundred-thousand dollar show and keep the rest. Of course, if the show was a hit, then you'd be caught and, well, sent to jail."
"What a scheme, Sulu!" Kirk shouted, grinning as widely as Hikaru thought was humanely possible.
"Scheme? What scheme? I simply posed an academic theory. And I'm not sure I could go through with it. I mean, I'm an accountant - I can barely stand up to my boss." Hikaru was lying through his teeth, and he was pretty sure it was obvious, but Kirk seemed to be too caught up in his thoughts to notice.
"Why, Sulu, it's simple. First, we find the worst play ever written. Then, we find the worst director in town. Then, we raise two million dollars -"
Hikaru felt the need to interject here. "Two million, Mr. Kirk?"
"One for me, and one for you - there are a lot of sexually-repressed Vulcans on this world, Sulu," Kirk replied, winking. "And then we put on our flop, take our two million, and spend the rest of our lives on Risa!"
"Oh, no, Mr. Kirk, I couldn't - "
"What, I ask you, Mr. Sulu, did Julius Caesar say to his troops as they crossed the Rubicon? What did George Washington say to his troops as they crossed the Delaware? What did Captain Staip say to his crew as they flew at warp speed for the first time? I'll tell you, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk was shouting at this point, filled with excitement and his grin had gotten bigger, despite Hikaru's doubts. "We can do it!"
"I'm not a brave man, Mr. Kirk. You'll have to find someone else. I have to go. Good day."
"Please, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk had literally fallen to his knees and began to hug Hikaru's legs. Hikaru was doing his best to walk with a man clinging to him, but it was proving difficult.
"Mr. Kirk, please! I must get back to my work!" Hikaru finally wrenched the ex-King from his leg and hurried back to his office, thoughts buzzing. This was an odd predicament to be in.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,739
Fandom: Star Trek XI/The Producers
Pairing(s): Spock/Pike (eventually, very background), Sulu/Chekov
Summery: Wherein Kirk is a devious producer, Sulu is a bored-with-life accountant who dreams of being a producer (or a florist, he's not picky), Chekov is a not-so-innocent-and-doe-eyed Russian immigrant, McCoy is an ex-Nazi, and Pike is a flaming gay director with dreams of Grandeur.
It started, Hikaru suspected, from the second he got the notice telling him he was going to be doing the famed producer Jim Kirk's books. Now, as a generally calm man, Hikaru wasn't too upset about this, and, really, Jim Kirk was a man, just like anyone else in the world. Except he happened to be famous. The ex-King of Broadway. Everyone and everything that young Hikaru had always wanted to be.
Hikaru had packed his Number Two Dixon Ticonderoga Pencil and his glasses safely in his bag (not, no matter how many times his sister said it, a “murse”) and set off to find James T. Kirk, producer of plays and sexer of women. Hikaru could have - should have - told his scarier-than-his-mother-on-a-Tuesday-night-before-having-her-glass-of-wine boss to suck it, give someone else the job, anything to not have to do another book for some rich, skanky asshat who didn't know anything about life in general. The issue was that, well, Hikaru's boss was scarier than his mother on a Tuesday night before having her glass of wine.
It took a while longer than he'd expected to find the house - no, office (hardly) - and he was surprised when he did find it. Hikaru had been expecting a lavish mansion filled with ornate carpets and a big fireplace and bright lights and a classy study where Mr. Kirk read and selected his plays. He most certainly had not been expecting a shabby apartment - office - on the wrong side of town filled with newspapers, cardboard-and-duct-tape handyman jobs, and a lingering smell of something Hikaru was certain his grandmother wore mixed with something else that Hikaru didn't want to think about. Especially when he thought of his grandmother.
"Mr. Kirk? Hello? Are you in?" It hit Hikaru a bit late that he shouldn't have opened the door after knocking only once, but who was judging? And Mr. Kirk wasn't home anyway, so it really didn't matt-
"Whaddyawant?" came a rough voice, and Hikaru most certainly did not jump, nor did he squeal like a pig. The voice had come from the couch and Hikaru turned to face the most unkempt, dirty-looking man he'd seen since college.
"Mr. Kirk?" he asked in a small voice. "I came to do your books. I'm from Nero-and-Ayel's. I'm an accountant, sir."
"My boo - my books? Ok, sure." Kirk stood up, still groggy and obviously hung-over, when a knock came at the door.
"Who the fu -" Mr. Kirk changed his thought mid-sentence and raised his voice, "Who is it?" There was a slight hesitation behind the door.
"Embrace-Me-Caress-Me."
Hikaru was mostly sure his face was the color of one of two crayons he had had when he was younger - specifically, red-violet or white. Kirk panicked for a second before shoving Hikaru to the bathroom.
"But, sir, I don't -" Hikaru began.
"Just think of rain, a shower, anything that involves running water." Kirk proceeded to make a short sound that Hikaru assumed was supposed to resemble running water before slamming the bathroom door shut to, assumedly, answer the front door.
From what Hikaru could hear (and that definitely wasn't much), there seemed to be some kind of extremely frustrated Vulcan demanding to play dirty sex games with Kirk. And Kirk seemed only mildly panicked, which Hikaru gathered wasn't because the Vulcan was demanding sexual favors (which was altogether odd enough by itself. Hikaru didn't know much about Vulcans, but he was relatively sure that they didn't go around asking for sex from people.)
Against his better judgment, Hikaru opened the door, not bothering to use his jacket as a shield (he was 99.9% sure of what was going on, anyway, so it wouldn't do much use) and immediately regretted his decision.
There, on the couch (which still had newspapers and a wool blanket covering it) was Jim Kirk feeling up a Vulcan, who was purring. Purring. Hikaru didn't even know that anything besides cats could purr. He let out a strangled cry that was meant to sound vaguely manly, but ended up more in the 'traumatized-child-just-walked-in-on-his-parents' area. Kirk said something and rushed the Vulcan out the door, but Hikaru was glued to his spot and couldn’t fully process what had just happened, so all he heard was "… on Saturday." And he really hoped he won't be here Saturday. Or maybe he did, to stop whatever was going to happen from happening. Though, it was Kirk's life, and he could do what he wanted with it.
"You're an accountant, right?" Kirk said suddenly after sitting on the couch and examining Hikaru closely.
"Um...yes. Yes! I am."
"Well then...what're you doing peeking on me and my backers, eh? A voyeur, are you?"
Hikaru sputtered and couldn’t get a grip on what was going on (he also wasn’t entirely sure how Kirk went from "accountant" to "Peeping Tom"), and all he really wanted to do was sit down with Kirk's books and do with them what he will and then leave this place forever. Then, the ex-King dropped the conversation and walked over to his balcony while Hikaru continued to look at the books. He vaguely heard Kirk yell something at someone on the street, but he was too focused on making the numbers make sense to make the words appear. But...wait. That didn’t make sense. Kirk had raised $100,000, but the play had cost $98,000. Where was that last $2,000....?
"Mr. Kirk? Might I have a minute?"
"A minute? That's all?" Kirk sounded strangely suspicious.
"Yes, sir."
Kirk pulled out a stopwatch and pressed the button on top. "Go."
Hikaru wasn't the type to panic, but he hadn't ever done well under pressure. Tests in school had been the bane of his existence - particularly timed tests. Then, Kirk began to count down.
"Um, well, I was looking at the books, and I noticed that, uh, um. Um. Well, I looked at your books and-and-and. Mr. Kirk, I can't, please just...just let me speak. I can't function when you're timing me." Hikaru's breathing began to shallow out and he could feel his lungs constricting. It was terrible. He pulled out a small stone from his pocket and began rubbing it nervously. Kirk's counting stopped abruptly.
"What's that?"
"Huh? It's nothing, just a rock my grandmother sent me from one of the beaches in Japan. She grew up near there and -" Hikaru stopped, shocked at his sudden lack of rock. This had never happened to him before. It was really nothing too special but after everything that had happened to him today, the only thing he could think to do was scream."My rock! You-you-you...took it! Give it back! Give it back!" Kirk flustered, juggled the rock for a second and quickly handed it back to Hikaru, who spent another few minutes calming down. 'Deep breaths, in, out, in, out, in, out.'
"Um, well, Mr. Kirk, I looked at your books and, well, to be quite frank...there's two-thousand dollars that I can't find. Your show cost ninety-thousand, but you raised one hundred-thousand. Where's the other two-thousand?"
Kirk scoffed. "Ehh, so I went to an Orion bath, what's the big deal? No one cares, the show was a flop anyway. Can't you just hide it somewhere?"
"Sir, I could lose my job, I can't do that - "
"I'm a washed up producer; would you send me to jail?"
"I guess I could move a few decimal points around..."
"Thanks, man."
And they were again shrouded in silence.
"You know, Mr. Kirk, I've always wanted to be a producer. I never told my parents. My dad wanted me to have a sensible career - and an accountant is sensible. You're really the only person who knows."
"My advice to you, Mr. uhhh,"
"Sulu."
"Right, Mr. Sulu, keep it a secret." Well, at least Kirk was blunt and honest.
Suddenly, Hikaru had a thought."Huh. You could, theoretically, make more money with a flop than you could with a hit."
Kirk looked up from the couch. "What?"
"What?"
"What did you just say? Say it again."
Hikaru thought it wise to repeat his thought. "Well, let's assume that you're a dishonest man..."
Kirk interjected with, “Assume away, my dear Sulu.”
"You could, theoretically, raise one million dollars, put on your one-hundred-thousand dollar show and keep the rest. Of course, if the show was a hit, then you'd be caught and, well, sent to jail."
"What a scheme, Sulu!" Kirk shouted, grinning as widely as Hikaru thought was humanely possible.
"Scheme? What scheme? I simply posed an academic theory. And I'm not sure I could go through with it. I mean, I'm an accountant - I can barely stand up to my boss." Hikaru was lying through his teeth, and he was pretty sure it was obvious, but Kirk seemed to be too caught up in his thoughts to notice.
"Why, Sulu, it's simple. First, we find the worst play ever written. Then, we find the worst director in town. Then, we raise two million dollars -"
Hikaru felt the need to interject here. "Two million, Mr. Kirk?"
"One for me, and one for you - there are a lot of sexually-repressed Vulcans on this world, Sulu," Kirk replied, winking. "And then we put on our flop, take our two million, and spend the rest of our lives on Risa!"
"Oh, no, Mr. Kirk, I couldn't - "
"What, I ask you, Mr. Sulu, did Julius Caesar say to his troops as they crossed the Rubicon? What did George Washington say to his troops as they crossed the Delaware? What did Captain Staip say to his crew as they flew at warp speed for the first time? I'll tell you, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk was shouting at this point, filled with excitement and his grin had gotten bigger, despite Hikaru's doubts. "We can do it!"
"I'm not a brave man, Mr. Kirk. You'll have to find someone else. I have to go. Good day."
"Please, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk had literally fallen to his knees and began to hug Hikaru's legs. Hikaru was doing his best to walk with a man clinging to him, but it was proving difficult.
"Mr. Kirk, please! I must get back to my work!" Hikaru finally wrenched the ex-King from his leg and hurried back to his office, thoughts buzzing. This was an odd predicament to be in.