Two Guys Walk Into a Bar
Title: Two Guys Walk Into a Bar
Author: ink_n_imp
Pairing: McCoy/Kirk
Word Count: 600
Prompt: McCoy/Kirk, set when they're at the academy; post-exam de-stressing. Link
Notes: WHATEVER I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR THIS INSANITY.
He’d always thought he was too damn impulsive for his own good. He’s admitted it now, in his bitter old age of 27-he was too quick to do whatever seemed like the right thing at the time, and Hindsight, never one of give a man a break, was 20/20.
Marrying between college and med school seemed like a great idea, for one. They had been in love, after all, had been for two years, and they happily and-rather naively-decided they could support each other through the years of school work and loans and residency and misery they had been warned would come. Becoming parents while he was still in med school, that-Joanna would never be a mistake…but the timing could have been better.
Joining research projects while in his residency when deep down inside he really only wanted to be a general practitioner somewhere quiet and small-it wasn’t really what he wanted, but it had felt like a GREAT idea when he thought of all the people he could help if they only could find a breakthrough!--while his wife spend long days and evenings alone, and his daughter flew past all the major milestones of infancy and toddlerhood without him there to witness them.
--Yea. That would be something he’d do differently, if time travel were possible.
He was too quick to anger and too quick to melancholy. People who didn’t know him tended to praise his southern charm. People who knew him tended to complain about his southern temper. Even when he was right (and he was OFTEN RIGHT) he had a knack for saying so in the most caustic manner possible that people did the opposite of whatever he said out of SPITE.
He’d signed the divorce papers, got taken to the cleaners because her lawyers had been better than his (the student loans were under HIS name, after all), lost all but the barest of visitation rights (to his own DAUGHTER) and-in a fit of madness-had joined Starfleet to get as far away from his old life as one man could get; which was deep into the far reaches of cold, inhumane space.
Yea, he thought HE was too damn impulsive--and then he met James T. Kirk, the Grand Master of It-Seemed-Like-A-Good-Idea-At-The-Time.
“Damnit, Jim,” he hissed, pushing hands away from his belt, though from Jim’s dirty, smug laughter, he knows he’s not really putting up a fight. The fact they ARE alone in the bar restroom, and he’s so hard it hurts isn’t helping his resolve. But it would be nice to pretend that he’s an adult, a doctor, damnit, not some horny wet-behind-the-ears cadet--
Come on, Bones, his inner ear repeats in a voice far too whiny and ridiculous to be what Jim actually sounded like when the night was still young and they were still in the dorm. We survived finals to live another day and take more of them next semester! We need to celebrate! We need to drink until we forget everything we learned! We need to get laid, Bones--
He bite back a moan as he leaned heavily against the sink, looking through his dark bangs and into the mirror, catching the blue eyes looking at him over his shoulder. He’s pretty sure Jim’s just undone his belt with ONE HAND, and his eyes are the very devil incarnate, offering a world of temptation and desire and what will probably be the shortest mind-blowing non-sex he’s ever had if Jim doesn’t get his hand out of his pants RIGHT NOW--
And as he gets pushed into the bathroom stall, he promises himself that this time, THIS TIME, this IS a good idea.
Really.
Author: ink_n_imp
Pairing: McCoy/Kirk
Word Count: 600
Prompt: McCoy/Kirk, set when they're at the academy; post-exam de-stressing. Link
Notes: WHATEVER I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR THIS INSANITY.
He’d always thought he was too damn impulsive for his own good. He’s admitted it now, in his bitter old age of 27-he was too quick to do whatever seemed like the right thing at the time, and Hindsight, never one of give a man a break, was 20/20.
Marrying between college and med school seemed like a great idea, for one. They had been in love, after all, had been for two years, and they happily and-rather naively-decided they could support each other through the years of school work and loans and residency and misery they had been warned would come. Becoming parents while he was still in med school, that-Joanna would never be a mistake…but the timing could have been better.
Joining research projects while in his residency when deep down inside he really only wanted to be a general practitioner somewhere quiet and small-it wasn’t really what he wanted, but it had felt like a GREAT idea when he thought of all the people he could help if they only could find a breakthrough!--while his wife spend long days and evenings alone, and his daughter flew past all the major milestones of infancy and toddlerhood without him there to witness them.
--Yea. That would be something he’d do differently, if time travel were possible.
He was too quick to anger and too quick to melancholy. People who didn’t know him tended to praise his southern charm. People who knew him tended to complain about his southern temper. Even when he was right (and he was OFTEN RIGHT) he had a knack for saying so in the most caustic manner possible that people did the opposite of whatever he said out of SPITE.
He’d signed the divorce papers, got taken to the cleaners because her lawyers had been better than his (the student loans were under HIS name, after all), lost all but the barest of visitation rights (to his own DAUGHTER) and-in a fit of madness-had joined Starfleet to get as far away from his old life as one man could get; which was deep into the far reaches of cold, inhumane space.
Yea, he thought HE was too damn impulsive--and then he met James T. Kirk, the Grand Master of It-Seemed-Like-A-Good-Idea-At-The-Time.
“Damnit, Jim,” he hissed, pushing hands away from his belt, though from Jim’s dirty, smug laughter, he knows he’s not really putting up a fight. The fact they ARE alone in the bar restroom, and he’s so hard it hurts isn’t helping his resolve. But it would be nice to pretend that he’s an adult, a doctor, damnit, not some horny wet-behind-the-ears cadet--
Come on, Bones, his inner ear repeats in a voice far too whiny and ridiculous to be what Jim actually sounded like when the night was still young and they were still in the dorm. We survived finals to live another day and take more of them next semester! We need to celebrate! We need to drink until we forget everything we learned! We need to get laid, Bones--
He bite back a moan as he leaned heavily against the sink, looking through his dark bangs and into the mirror, catching the blue eyes looking at him over his shoulder. He’s pretty sure Jim’s just undone his belt with ONE HAND, and his eyes are the very devil incarnate, offering a world of temptation and desire and what will probably be the shortest mind-blowing non-sex he’s ever had if Jim doesn’t get his hand out of his pants RIGHT NOW--
And as he gets pushed into the bathroom stall, he promises himself that this time, THIS TIME, this IS a good idea.
Really.