FIC: Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! part1/5
title: Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart! (23rd century AU, Star Trek (AOS)) part 1/5
characters: Kirk/McCoy, Chekov/Sulu, Spock/Uhura, Chapel, Rand, Number One, Pike
words: WIP in 5 parts, projected 25K - I’m posting parts 1 and 2 (of 5) tonight but you can safely read since I’ve finished it and am just busy editing. (15th February)
rating: nc-17
Summary: Having witnessed a bloody massacre by mobster Nero on St. Valentine’s Day, musicians Jim Kirk and Hikaru Sulu are forced to flee for their lives. With Nero’s men in pursuit, they disguise themselves as women and join an all female band at the beginning of a three week residency on Risa. It’s a great idea…until Jim falls in love with lead singer, Leonard McCoy, who is all man, and totally gay with a fatal attraction for sax players. Like Jim, except…he thinks Jim’s a girl.
Zing! masterlist
Zing Went the Strings of my Heart
Part 1/5
***Theme Tune - Blues in the Night - by Quincy Jones***
jim_and_bones ‘Reel Love Challenge’ presents…
Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart!
a sangueuk movie
…starring…
Jim Kirk
AND
Leonard McCoy
With…
Hikaru Sulu
Nyota Uhura
Christine Chapel
Janice Rand
‘Number One’
Christopher Pike
Nero
…and…
Spock!
Art by norfolkdumpling
Risa, Moon I, the dock
Jim shoves Hikaru two handed into the men’s room, ignoring his stifled yelps and releasing a shower of snow off his coat. Jim drags him into the cubicle where it’s a tight fit with burly shoulders, long limbs, his sax, and Hik’s bull fiddle, the cover still steaming from disruptor burns; shit, they’re lucky they’re still alive and uninjured. And he can’t stop grinning, adrenaline lighting him up, and if he knows Hikaru’s love of excitement, his friend feels it too.
Chests heaving, feet in puddles of piss, they strain their ears for Nero’s men. Hikaru opens his mouth to speak and Jim bares his teeth, shakes his head. “Shut. Up,” he mouths and Hikaru closes his eyes, draws in a noisy breath until Jim elbows him in the ribs to make his point and wrestles his arm free to raise a finger to his lips; if Nero finds them - they’re toast.
It’s an eternity before either of them moves again.
“Give me your coat,” Jim finally whispers and, when Hikaru frowns and shakes his head, Jim says it more firmly, “Just giveit to me, okay?”
“But it’s fucking cold, man.” It really is on this shit moon. The Risans haven’t bothered with their fancy climate control system here since it’s just one big space dock, home to a rag-tag of migrant workers waiting for visas and littered with storage depots.
Jim and Hikaru have been here a week, waiting to get a free ride to paradise below, but they might as well be criminals the little luck they’ve had trying to move on. It’s the usual problem - you need money to make money, or dumb luck - and they have neither now they’ve lost their last credits on poker. Jim’s smart, so’s Hikaru, but the guys on this outpost, well, they don’t do much except work, jerk-off and gamble and the card games have been way out of their league.
“Not as cold as when you’re dead.” Jim’s fucking serious. He takes Hik’s coat and rolls his eyes when his friend shivers dramatically. “Wait here and lock the door,” Jim hisses, twisting so he can push the door open. He takes his clarinet out, leaves the sax and shoves the heavy case under Hikaru’s chin.
“Where the fuck are you going? They might still be out there.” There’s a fine sheen of sweat on Hikaru’s brow and his normally immaculate hair is wild, strands plastered to his forehead.
“It’s cool - I’m pretty sure the coast is clear. I’m going to check, see if I can work out how to get out of here.” He pats Hikaru’s arm in a gesture of brotherly love - though it feels less like The Waltons and more Cain and Abel the way his best friend’s glowering at him like it’s all Jim’s fault or something.
They lost their comms, having dropped them in the parking lot in their haste to escape, and it would be kid’s work to trace them via the user IDs; it was Jim’s idea to take holos of the carnage, of the seven men Nero and his crew massacred. Trouble is they only managed to send one to the cops and unless they get the hell out, they too could end up six feet under. Ducking into the hanger was a good idea, the place is full of security and cameras; only trouble is they have to get out again.
It’s real late, and the dock’s pretty quiet, just a few containers being unloaded from a ship on the other side of the hanger, but it’s brightly lit, safe on the surface - though, considering the atrocity they just saw committed, Nero’s going to need more than a bit of stark lighting to deter him should he set eyes on the two of them again. Jim knows they’ve been followed, he can feel it in his bones, but he’s maintained an air of fake positivity - it’s all he’s got.
On wobbly legs, Jim creeps to the entirely self-service and automated mini mall at the dock’s entrance where he spied a couple of shady characters earlier and, sure enough, they give him a few credits for the coats and his clarinet, no questions asked. Then he scoots around looking for an answer - a wide grin breaks across his face when he sees it, a clothing replicator. Perfect.
+++
Jim Kirk knew he was hot. Steaming, toasty, bad-ass hot, but looking now at his own reflection, he has to admit, he had no idea. Shame he didn’t think to replicate a shitty stick to fight off the male attention he’s going to get. He’s interrupted in his drooling by Hikaru’s whiny tones. The guy always had such a positive attitude. Whatever happened?
“Remind me again why I have anything to do with you, Jim?” Hikaru leans closer to the smeary mirror and tries again to attach the false eyelash.
“You have to pull faces when you apply cosmetics, Hik. You’ve seen how girls do it, right?” Jim touches his shoulder, “Here, Iet me.” After all, handsome as his friend is, Hikaru doesn’t have the same natural born advantages. He smirks.
With a huff of irritation, Hikaru turns to face him and Jim stands between his thighs. Hikaru stares past Jim’s shoulder, a muscle twitching under his powdered cheek while Jim pinches another eyelash out of the multi-pack and removes the adhesive strip. “How come we can afford this ‘finery’ when we’re poor?”
“There!” Jim grins, pouting at his reflection. It’s hardly finery, the credits didn’t stretch to anything flashy but Jim makes his blond wig fucking popand now he’s applied make-up and glorious matt red lipstick he’d so do himself. He tweaks his bangs to cover his eyebrows and blows himself a kiss. “Well, hello, Princess,” he purrs.
“Are you just going to ignore every question?” Hikaru looks pretty mad now, fixing Jim with a sidelong look made all the more intense by expertly applied eye shadow.
“Hik, you’re giving me a hard on,” Jim bats his own lashes experimentally. “Fact is, I’m giving myself a hard on. Damn I’m hot!”
“Yeah, yeah and some like it hot, I get it.” Hikaru rolls his eyes, making a passable attempt of Jim’s voice. “Couldn’t you get something, I dunno, more…classy? We look like a pair of hookers.” Jim pouts in irritation - see, there’s that whiny tone again. He decides to ignore it - they can get with the banter once they’re safe; meanwhile he’ll keep it light.
Jim cups one of his ‘breasts’ reverently, “I don’t know what you mean, I reek of class. Wow, I’m stacked!”
“We forgot something,” Hikaru dumps his cosmetics into his purse, “nail varnish - it’d add that certain...”
“Too much, “Jim says firmly, appraising himself, “I don’t want to gild the lily - though you can, if you like, when we get some cash.”
“I don’t fucking like,” Hikaru grabs Jim by the arm and shakes him, “I don’t like wearing a bra stuffed full of paper towels, I don’t like wearing panties that crush my balls and I don’t fucking like being a girl. I like girls, I like them more than, well, a lot, okay, but I don’t want to be one. I like being a boy.”
Jim shushes him looks down at Hikaru’s hand, where he’s pinching into Jim’s bicep. Hikaru lets go and adjusts his purse over his wrist.
Jim half turns to admire himself in the mirror one last time then bends for the final touch - shoes. The replicator did good with its ‘women’s-wear for men’ menu: “Just look at these babies,” he sighs, kissing the toe of red, patent leather stilettos. Stocking clad toes slide in easily and Jim strokes up his leg, feeling a little murmur of arousal when his skirt drops. He’s never been on the other side of this experience - it’s so fucking cool though he does feel a slight twinge of regret when the recycler swallows their boy clothing.
“End of an era,” he sighs.
“No, not era, Jim, it’s a moment - soon as we get out of here, soon as I’m in warp, I’m freeing my manhood.”
They stick their noses round the door and tiptoe out freezing a few meters from the men’s room when they catch a glimpse of Nero’s men patrolling the other side of the dock, unmistakable in their fine suits and jaunty hats. Damn, damn and damn.
“This way,” Jim hisses, “now get into fucking character. He’ll never for a second think it’s us - we’ll be okay.” Though Jim’s heart doesn’t appear to agree with that statement.
They walk a wide arc in as nonchalant a manner as their new shoes will allow, heading for the back end of a supply ship where they saw a group of women boarding with dozens of bags and cases.
Safely hidden, they wait. Jim runs his finger across the hull - the ship looks like it should be in the shop, still filthy from it’s re-entry into the atmosphere.
“The captain’s kind of drunk,” Hikaru whispers.
Jim overhears Nero’s smooth tones as he questions a woman by the gangway -“Well, if you do see him, be sure and comm me.” Jim imagines Nero handing a card over, long, manicured nails glinting in the yellow lighting, his unblinking, insane fucking eyes all fake warm and congenial - it’s clear - if they don’t get on board, they’ll be vaporized and no one to miss them.
There’s the click, click of Italian shoes as a couple of hoods leave Nero’s side to search the men’s room. Jim bites his bottom lip, exchanges looks with Hikaru because, damn that was close. They’ve got to get out of here, and this shit-box ship looks like the only way. He’s got no fucking idea how they’re going to sneak on board but he’ll work that out when the time comes. Jim’s nothing if good at improvisation. “I have some news for him… very important family news,” Nero continues.
Jim hears another man’s voice:
“We will be tardy if we do not board, Nyota.”
“Shut up, dearest,” a woman, presumably Nyota, snaps. Then her tone softens, “We’ll be sure and let you know, sir, now, if you’ll excuse us…”
Jim bends to peek and he sees Nero’s snakeskin shoes heading away towards the men’s room. Damn those Romulans and their enhanced senses. Guy can probably smell their presence, the scent of fear.
Jim fumbles inside his purse and pulls out his compact, “Come on, here goes nothing,” a deep breath and he slips into his best runway walk as he circles the front of the ship, the sax on his shoulder and Hikaru by his side. Shit, the shoes pinch already, but he focuses on the goal pausing to reapply his lipstick, with the mirror angled so he can check it’s safe.
“I can’t walk in these things, how the hell do women walk in these things?”
“It’s a weight distribution thing,” Jim says, pitching his voice higher, then clearing his throat. Damn, this is going to hurt in more ways than he anticipated. He adjusts the strap on his sax case and takes another couple of purposeful steps, linking arms with Hik. “Come on, you’re beautiful, baby, we’ll just have to weight our breasts so it’s easier-“ He stills, cranes so he can hear the conversation between Nyota and a Vulcan, her tiny, elegant hands maroon tipped and animated as she speaks, in contrast with the calm Vulcan who listens impassively.
“I’m through with guys. No. More. Guys.” The last three words punctuated with a finger poking the Vulcan’s silk clad chest. He doesn’t flinch, merely clasps his hands behind his back.
“It is illogical to presume men are the root of the problem,” the Vulcan says evenly, “in fact, dearest, our latest defectors were women and they left us to get married...” He pauses, “...to each other.”
Nyota glares at him. “You know I love you, Spock?”
“Of course, since you insist on reminding me.”
“So end of discussion. I’ve made my mind up. No more men in the band. I’m sick of them hitting on me, on the girls - they keep getting knocked up - I’ve got a business to run. And we’re two band members short and a three-week residency.”
“I have notified our agent we require a saxophonist and double-bass player and she is currently searching for replacements. Until then, Number One will fill in with the computer adequately.”
Jim clutches at Hikaru when a cartoon light bulb goes off in his head with a thoomp.
”Will you stop doing that!”
Both sets of eyes drop to Hikaru’s breasts where a paper towel’s reared its head. Hikaru fiddles and fixes and Jim does his best, heart-melting ‘sorry’ face while shielding him from view. “Did you hear that?” he says, thumbing over his shoulder.
“Romeo and Juliet?”
“No. Well, yeah - they need a sax player and someone on bull fiddle. It’s fate, Hik!”
“No, Jim - it’s crazy - we’ll never get away with it!”
“We’ve got to. It’s just for three weeks, man - and it’s a matter of life and-“
His words fade when Jim’s eyes are drawn towards a figure loping towards them. He’s glad his chest is bound so tight else his heart would surely have fallen out and hit the deck such is the sheer, unadulterated hotness of the disheveled man striding across their path. He’s tall, his hair looks like he’s just got out of bed, thick and dark and pointing in every direction.
“Jesus,” Jim breathes, his fingers digging into Hikaru’s arm whose eyes follow Jim’s gaze.
Then it’s Hikaru’s turn to do some gripping of his own. “Holy fuck- will you look at that walk!”
It shouldn’t be anything special, it’s just a guy walk, but long strides, big fucking shoulders that must be every designer’s dream hanger, tapering down to narrow hips, and it’s like the guy’s on castors the way he fucking glide swaggers across their path. The guy must hear the steam coming out of their ears because he turns for a moment, a ridiculously handsome scowly face, with big hazel eyes fixing them with a glare with instantly morphs to twinkle. He touches the brim of an imaginary hat as he nods, says , “Ma’am,” without breaking his stride. He’s pulling a trunk behind him and carrying a beat up guitar case. There’s a definite southern note to that voice, deep and grumbly and baritone…
“I’m in love,” Jim announces sincerely, rooted to the spot. “I am re-born, I…”
“Need to shut the fuck up and remember to talk like a girl.”
“Okay,” Jim says, clears his throat, tries again, pitching higher, ”okay,” pleased with how it comes out kind of breathy and he thinks that might be something due to the effect of the dark Adonis gliding past.
“He’s gay,” Jim announces sagely, his cock throbbing just a little.
“What? How can you tell? No one can tell that shit.”
Jim glowers at Hik. “Is that hope in your eyes, now you know there’s a chance? Well, let me put you straight-“
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Hikaru’s voice is a warning.
“Look, asshole, if he was straight, he’d have hit on me, I mean, you can see how hot I am right?
Hikaru rolls his eyes and watches Hot Guy disappear into the men’s room.
“Put your tongue away - we need to get on that ship, Jim.”
“What I need is to marry that guy,” Jim says wistfully. “maybe I should just…”
“But you’re a girl, Jim, remember?”
“Fuck.”
“Now move!”
“Pardon me,” Jim says, attempting refined lady and advancing towards Nyota, “I hear you have a problem. I am pleased to say we might be able to help you out.”
Nyota raises an eyebrow. “Good evening, miss?”
“Call me Jemima,” Jim says smiling his best demure smile which, truth be told, is a little rusty, “and this is my partner, my friend-“ fuck - he can’t come up with two names just like that.
“Daphne,” Hikaru says smoothly, tossing his hair and blinking at Jim.
“You’re musicians,” Nyota says.
“And you’ve been left in the lurch; I couldn’t help overhearing.” Jim lifts up the sax. “We were hoping to head out to Risa and find work, but we were robbed in the powder room. Perhaps if you can give us passage we can fill in? At least until you find replacements? ”
“You can’t trust anyone these days,” Hikaru chips in, clutching imaginary pearls and smiling sweetly. Jim so wants to kick his friend - but he’s a lady now.
“Yeah, we lost our tickets, our comms, everything.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Spock says, “but we have not heard you play. Our collective is unparalleled.”
“I think what boyfriend’s trying to say is that we have a rep to maintain, Jemima; we can’t take you on without at least a reference. Our agent’s looking into finding replacements so it’s not so bad, thank you all the same.”
Fuck.
Jim looks at Hikaru - “We can audition. Now if you like. It won’t take long...”
Nyota sighs, “Okay, show me what you got.” She turns to Spock, “Sweetheart, can you go see if Leonard’s hiding in the men’s room? I saw him a while back but I think he’s hoping I won’t notice our lead singer’s gone AWOL.”
Jim takes out his sax, inserts the mouth-piece and licks his lips, “What kind of music do you guys play? We can pretty much turn our hands to anything, though we sway more towards old tunes, swing, jazz…” Hikaru’s already pulled his bass out and is examining it - the first chance he’s had to check for damage. By the look on his face, all is well.
“Saxa Woogie,” Spock suggests impassively and Jim has to suppress a giggle at how incongruous the words sound coming out so serious.
“Good choice, man,” Hikaru nods approvingly and runs his fingers over the neck of his double-bass then gives it a twirl on the spot. “’kay, Jim, er… Jemima, 2, 3, 4-“ and Jim launches into the opening bars, watching with satisfaction as Nyota begins to tap her feet.
*** Saxa Woogie ***
Within moments, three girls emerge from the ship grinning at each other and surround the two of them; one tosses a trumpet at Nyota who joins in butting shoulders with Jim while the girls link arms and improvise the vocals. There’s a tall brunette and two blonds Jim notices with delight - he should fit right in.
While they play, Jim keeps one eye on the door to the men’s room over the shoulders of the small group of passers-by, including the bleary-eyed captain, who’ve gathered to enjoy the impromptu performance. His heart’s tight with anticipation; if Leonard is Hot Guy then this is going to turn out to be a helluva trip.
Sure enough, just as they finish up, and their little audience applauds and whoops, Spock emerges gripping the arm of Hot Guy who looks like he’s going to hit him, face pink with barely contained rage.
“Are you out of your Vulcan mind, Spock, what are you? My mom?”
“That would be medically impossible, and if it were so, I would have disowned you by now.” Spock nevertheless lets go and straightens the front of his suit jacket where it’s become rucked up, presumably from some kind of tussle off-stage as he tried to persuade Leonard to come out.
“If you’ve damaged my guitar I’ll…” Leonard glowers and one of the girls, blue-eyed with ash blond hair and gorgeous cheekbones, approaches him. She touches his cheek.
“Come on, baby, I’ve got some Valium in my bag, you’ll sleep through the whole trip.”
Leonard’s lost any southern charm from earlier, his voice louder and growlier by the second. “I don’t wanna sleep through the trip, Christine, fact of the matter is I don’t want to go on the fuckin’ trip in the first place.”
“Len, quit cussing, there are refined ladies present,” Nyota indicates Jim and Hikaru, “meet our new band members - Jemima and Daphne - say hi.”
Leonard appears to take a deep breath and closes his eyes a moment to compose himself. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more courteous. “Hi.” He holds out a large, tan hand to Jim who takes it with a pounding heart, remembering to keep his grip light though it lingers a little too long - but so fucking what, the guy is, did he mention - hot. “And I apologize for my language,” Leonard adds, ducking his head and doing that hat thing again. “I’m hoping I can make it up to y’all.”
Yeah, Jim’s hoping, with those lovely, warm, long fingers.
But it looks like Hikaru is having similar ideas: “Oh, I’m sure you can,” Hikaru steps between Jim and Leonard and tilts his head to the side, his eyes sweeping up and down the tall figure, “a big hunk of a man like you.”
Lady or not, Jim decides he’s going to kill his friend, soon as he can get his hands on a weapon.
“It is an inefficient use of your time, attempting to engage the doctor in any romantic relationship,” Spock says sagely, “his sexual proclivities are directed exclusively towards members of his own sex.”
Christine snorts by Leonard’s side.
“I’m not a doctor, I’m a musician - how many times I gotta tell you, you green skinned-?“
“Leonard!” Nyota warns him. “Now get your fine ass on board before Spock has to pinch you.”
“Yeah, come on, doc,” Christine slaps him on the butt and then smiles at Jim and Hikaru. “See you ladies on board - I’ll save you a bunk.”
“So we’re hired?” Jim turns to Spock as he puts his sax away.
“It would appear so,” Spock says, “I will draw up the necessary documents.”
“Awesome!” Jim slaps Hikaru on the back a little too hard, but hey, he had no business flirting with his future husband. The fact that Bones thinks he’s a girl, and their whole relationship is already based on a lie - well, there’s no such thing as a no-win scenario Jim’s learned. “Let’s shake on it!” He takes Spock’s hand and when the Vulcan raises an eyebrow, Jim immediately realizes his mistake - he’d forgotten Vulcan’s are touch telepaths and from the way he remarks smoothly “fascinating,” they are both so busted. But then Spock will also have picked up that they’re on the run and their motives are pure and Jim’s counting on this buying them some time.
onto part 2
.
characters: Kirk/McCoy, Chekov/Sulu, Spock/Uhura, Chapel, Rand, Number One, Pike
words: WIP in 5 parts, projected 25K - I’m posting parts 1 and 2 (of 5) tonight but you can safely read since I’ve finished it and am just busy editing. (15th February)
rating: nc-17
Summary: Having witnessed a bloody massacre by mobster Nero on St. Valentine’s Day, musicians Jim Kirk and Hikaru Sulu are forced to flee for their lives. With Nero’s men in pursuit, they disguise themselves as women and join an all female band at the beginning of a three week residency on Risa. It’s a great idea…until Jim falls in love with lead singer, Leonard McCoy, who is all man, and totally gay with a fatal attraction for sax players. Like Jim, except…he thinks Jim’s a girl.
Zing! masterlist
Zing Went the Strings of my Heart
Part 1/5
***Theme Tune - Blues in the Night - by Quincy Jones***
jim_and_bones ‘Reel Love Challenge’ presents…
Zing! Went the Strings of my Heart!
a sangueuk movie
…starring…
Jim Kirk
AND
Leonard McCoy
With…
Hikaru Sulu
Nyota Uhura
Christine Chapel
Janice Rand
‘Number One’
Christopher Pike
Nero
…and…
Spock!
Art by norfolkdumpling
Risa, Moon I, the dock
Jim shoves Hikaru two handed into the men’s room, ignoring his stifled yelps and releasing a shower of snow off his coat. Jim drags him into the cubicle where it’s a tight fit with burly shoulders, long limbs, his sax, and Hik’s bull fiddle, the cover still steaming from disruptor burns; shit, they’re lucky they’re still alive and uninjured. And he can’t stop grinning, adrenaline lighting him up, and if he knows Hikaru’s love of excitement, his friend feels it too.
Chests heaving, feet in puddles of piss, they strain their ears for Nero’s men. Hikaru opens his mouth to speak and Jim bares his teeth, shakes his head. “Shut. Up,” he mouths and Hikaru closes his eyes, draws in a noisy breath until Jim elbows him in the ribs to make his point and wrestles his arm free to raise a finger to his lips; if Nero finds them - they’re toast.
It’s an eternity before either of them moves again.
“Give me your coat,” Jim finally whispers and, when Hikaru frowns and shakes his head, Jim says it more firmly, “Just giveit to me, okay?”
“But it’s fucking cold, man.” It really is on this shit moon. The Risans haven’t bothered with their fancy climate control system here since it’s just one big space dock, home to a rag-tag of migrant workers waiting for visas and littered with storage depots.
Jim and Hikaru have been here a week, waiting to get a free ride to paradise below, but they might as well be criminals the little luck they’ve had trying to move on. It’s the usual problem - you need money to make money, or dumb luck - and they have neither now they’ve lost their last credits on poker. Jim’s smart, so’s Hikaru, but the guys on this outpost, well, they don’t do much except work, jerk-off and gamble and the card games have been way out of their league.
“Not as cold as when you’re dead.” Jim’s fucking serious. He takes Hik’s coat and rolls his eyes when his friend shivers dramatically. “Wait here and lock the door,” Jim hisses, twisting so he can push the door open. He takes his clarinet out, leaves the sax and shoves the heavy case under Hikaru’s chin.
“Where the fuck are you going? They might still be out there.” There’s a fine sheen of sweat on Hikaru’s brow and his normally immaculate hair is wild, strands plastered to his forehead.
“It’s cool - I’m pretty sure the coast is clear. I’m going to check, see if I can work out how to get out of here.” He pats Hikaru’s arm in a gesture of brotherly love - though it feels less like The Waltons and more Cain and Abel the way his best friend’s glowering at him like it’s all Jim’s fault or something.
They lost their comms, having dropped them in the parking lot in their haste to escape, and it would be kid’s work to trace them via the user IDs; it was Jim’s idea to take holos of the carnage, of the seven men Nero and his crew massacred. Trouble is they only managed to send one to the cops and unless they get the hell out, they too could end up six feet under. Ducking into the hanger was a good idea, the place is full of security and cameras; only trouble is they have to get out again.
It’s real late, and the dock’s pretty quiet, just a few containers being unloaded from a ship on the other side of the hanger, but it’s brightly lit, safe on the surface - though, considering the atrocity they just saw committed, Nero’s going to need more than a bit of stark lighting to deter him should he set eyes on the two of them again. Jim knows they’ve been followed, he can feel it in his bones, but he’s maintained an air of fake positivity - it’s all he’s got.
On wobbly legs, Jim creeps to the entirely self-service and automated mini mall at the dock’s entrance where he spied a couple of shady characters earlier and, sure enough, they give him a few credits for the coats and his clarinet, no questions asked. Then he scoots around looking for an answer - a wide grin breaks across his face when he sees it, a clothing replicator. Perfect.
+++
Jim Kirk knew he was hot. Steaming, toasty, bad-ass hot, but looking now at his own reflection, he has to admit, he had no idea. Shame he didn’t think to replicate a shitty stick to fight off the male attention he’s going to get. He’s interrupted in his drooling by Hikaru’s whiny tones. The guy always had such a positive attitude. Whatever happened?
“Remind me again why I have anything to do with you, Jim?” Hikaru leans closer to the smeary mirror and tries again to attach the false eyelash.
“You have to pull faces when you apply cosmetics, Hik. You’ve seen how girls do it, right?” Jim touches his shoulder, “Here, Iet me.” After all, handsome as his friend is, Hikaru doesn’t have the same natural born advantages. He smirks.
With a huff of irritation, Hikaru turns to face him and Jim stands between his thighs. Hikaru stares past Jim’s shoulder, a muscle twitching under his powdered cheek while Jim pinches another eyelash out of the multi-pack and removes the adhesive strip. “How come we can afford this ‘finery’ when we’re poor?”
“There!” Jim grins, pouting at his reflection. It’s hardly finery, the credits didn’t stretch to anything flashy but Jim makes his blond wig fucking popand now he’s applied make-up and glorious matt red lipstick he’d so do himself. He tweaks his bangs to cover his eyebrows and blows himself a kiss. “Well, hello, Princess,” he purrs.
“Are you just going to ignore every question?” Hikaru looks pretty mad now, fixing Jim with a sidelong look made all the more intense by expertly applied eye shadow.
“Hik, you’re giving me a hard on,” Jim bats his own lashes experimentally. “Fact is, I’m giving myself a hard on. Damn I’m hot!”
“Yeah, yeah and some like it hot, I get it.” Hikaru rolls his eyes, making a passable attempt of Jim’s voice. “Couldn’t you get something, I dunno, more…classy? We look like a pair of hookers.” Jim pouts in irritation - see, there’s that whiny tone again. He decides to ignore it - they can get with the banter once they’re safe; meanwhile he’ll keep it light.
Jim cups one of his ‘breasts’ reverently, “I don’t know what you mean, I reek of class. Wow, I’m stacked!”
“We forgot something,” Hikaru dumps his cosmetics into his purse, “nail varnish - it’d add that certain...”
“Too much, “Jim says firmly, appraising himself, “I don’t want to gild the lily - though you can, if you like, when we get some cash.”
“I don’t fucking like,” Hikaru grabs Jim by the arm and shakes him, “I don’t like wearing a bra stuffed full of paper towels, I don’t like wearing panties that crush my balls and I don’t fucking like being a girl. I like girls, I like them more than, well, a lot, okay, but I don’t want to be one. I like being a boy.”
Jim shushes him looks down at Hikaru’s hand, where he’s pinching into Jim’s bicep. Hikaru lets go and adjusts his purse over his wrist.
Jim half turns to admire himself in the mirror one last time then bends for the final touch - shoes. The replicator did good with its ‘women’s-wear for men’ menu: “Just look at these babies,” he sighs, kissing the toe of red, patent leather stilettos. Stocking clad toes slide in easily and Jim strokes up his leg, feeling a little murmur of arousal when his skirt drops. He’s never been on the other side of this experience - it’s so fucking cool though he does feel a slight twinge of regret when the recycler swallows their boy clothing.
“End of an era,” he sighs.
“No, not era, Jim, it’s a moment - soon as we get out of here, soon as I’m in warp, I’m freeing my manhood.”
They stick their noses round the door and tiptoe out freezing a few meters from the men’s room when they catch a glimpse of Nero’s men patrolling the other side of the dock, unmistakable in their fine suits and jaunty hats. Damn, damn and damn.
“This way,” Jim hisses, “now get into fucking character. He’ll never for a second think it’s us - we’ll be okay.” Though Jim’s heart doesn’t appear to agree with that statement.
They walk a wide arc in as nonchalant a manner as their new shoes will allow, heading for the back end of a supply ship where they saw a group of women boarding with dozens of bags and cases.
Safely hidden, they wait. Jim runs his finger across the hull - the ship looks like it should be in the shop, still filthy from it’s re-entry into the atmosphere.
“The captain’s kind of drunk,” Hikaru whispers.
Jim overhears Nero’s smooth tones as he questions a woman by the gangway -“Well, if you do see him, be sure and comm me.” Jim imagines Nero handing a card over, long, manicured nails glinting in the yellow lighting, his unblinking, insane fucking eyes all fake warm and congenial - it’s clear - if they don’t get on board, they’ll be vaporized and no one to miss them.
There’s the click, click of Italian shoes as a couple of hoods leave Nero’s side to search the men’s room. Jim bites his bottom lip, exchanges looks with Hikaru because, damn that was close. They’ve got to get out of here, and this shit-box ship looks like the only way. He’s got no fucking idea how they’re going to sneak on board but he’ll work that out when the time comes. Jim’s nothing if good at improvisation. “I have some news for him… very important family news,” Nero continues.
Jim hears another man’s voice:
“We will be tardy if we do not board, Nyota.”
“Shut up, dearest,” a woman, presumably Nyota, snaps. Then her tone softens, “We’ll be sure and let you know, sir, now, if you’ll excuse us…”
Jim bends to peek and he sees Nero’s snakeskin shoes heading away towards the men’s room. Damn those Romulans and their enhanced senses. Guy can probably smell their presence, the scent of fear.
Jim fumbles inside his purse and pulls out his compact, “Come on, here goes nothing,” a deep breath and he slips into his best runway walk as he circles the front of the ship, the sax on his shoulder and Hikaru by his side. Shit, the shoes pinch already, but he focuses on the goal pausing to reapply his lipstick, with the mirror angled so he can check it’s safe.
“I can’t walk in these things, how the hell do women walk in these things?”
“It’s a weight distribution thing,” Jim says, pitching his voice higher, then clearing his throat. Damn, this is going to hurt in more ways than he anticipated. He adjusts the strap on his sax case and takes another couple of purposeful steps, linking arms with Hik. “Come on, you’re beautiful, baby, we’ll just have to weight our breasts so it’s easier-“ He stills, cranes so he can hear the conversation between Nyota and a Vulcan, her tiny, elegant hands maroon tipped and animated as she speaks, in contrast with the calm Vulcan who listens impassively.
“I’m through with guys. No. More. Guys.” The last three words punctuated with a finger poking the Vulcan’s silk clad chest. He doesn’t flinch, merely clasps his hands behind his back.
“It is illogical to presume men are the root of the problem,” the Vulcan says evenly, “in fact, dearest, our latest defectors were women and they left us to get married...” He pauses, “...to each other.”
Nyota glares at him. “You know I love you, Spock?”
“Of course, since you insist on reminding me.”
“So end of discussion. I’ve made my mind up. No more men in the band. I’m sick of them hitting on me, on the girls - they keep getting knocked up - I’ve got a business to run. And we’re two band members short and a three-week residency.”
“I have notified our agent we require a saxophonist and double-bass player and she is currently searching for replacements. Until then, Number One will fill in with the computer adequately.”
Jim clutches at Hikaru when a cartoon light bulb goes off in his head with a thoomp.
”Will you stop doing that!”
Both sets of eyes drop to Hikaru’s breasts where a paper towel’s reared its head. Hikaru fiddles and fixes and Jim does his best, heart-melting ‘sorry’ face while shielding him from view. “Did you hear that?” he says, thumbing over his shoulder.
“Romeo and Juliet?”
“No. Well, yeah - they need a sax player and someone on bull fiddle. It’s fate, Hik!”
“No, Jim - it’s crazy - we’ll never get away with it!”
“We’ve got to. It’s just for three weeks, man - and it’s a matter of life and-“
His words fade when Jim’s eyes are drawn towards a figure loping towards them. He’s glad his chest is bound so tight else his heart would surely have fallen out and hit the deck such is the sheer, unadulterated hotness of the disheveled man striding across their path. He’s tall, his hair looks like he’s just got out of bed, thick and dark and pointing in every direction.
“Jesus,” Jim breathes, his fingers digging into Hikaru’s arm whose eyes follow Jim’s gaze.
Then it’s Hikaru’s turn to do some gripping of his own. “Holy fuck- will you look at that walk!”
It shouldn’t be anything special, it’s just a guy walk, but long strides, big fucking shoulders that must be every designer’s dream hanger, tapering down to narrow hips, and it’s like the guy’s on castors the way he fucking glide swaggers across their path. The guy must hear the steam coming out of their ears because he turns for a moment, a ridiculously handsome scowly face, with big hazel eyes fixing them with a glare with instantly morphs to twinkle. He touches the brim of an imaginary hat as he nods, says , “Ma’am,” without breaking his stride. He’s pulling a trunk behind him and carrying a beat up guitar case. There’s a definite southern note to that voice, deep and grumbly and baritone…
“I’m in love,” Jim announces sincerely, rooted to the spot. “I am re-born, I…”
“Need to shut the fuck up and remember to talk like a girl.”
“Okay,” Jim says, clears his throat, tries again, pitching higher, ”okay,” pleased with how it comes out kind of breathy and he thinks that might be something due to the effect of the dark Adonis gliding past.
“He’s gay,” Jim announces sagely, his cock throbbing just a little.
“What? How can you tell? No one can tell that shit.”
Jim glowers at Hik. “Is that hope in your eyes, now you know there’s a chance? Well, let me put you straight-“
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Hikaru’s voice is a warning.
“Look, asshole, if he was straight, he’d have hit on me, I mean, you can see how hot I am right?
Hikaru rolls his eyes and watches Hot Guy disappear into the men’s room.
“Put your tongue away - we need to get on that ship, Jim.”
“What I need is to marry that guy,” Jim says wistfully. “maybe I should just…”
“But you’re a girl, Jim, remember?”
“Fuck.”
“Now move!”
“Pardon me,” Jim says, attempting refined lady and advancing towards Nyota, “I hear you have a problem. I am pleased to say we might be able to help you out.”
Nyota raises an eyebrow. “Good evening, miss?”
“Call me Jemima,” Jim says smiling his best demure smile which, truth be told, is a little rusty, “and this is my partner, my friend-“ fuck - he can’t come up with two names just like that.
“Daphne,” Hikaru says smoothly, tossing his hair and blinking at Jim.
“You’re musicians,” Nyota says.
“And you’ve been left in the lurch; I couldn’t help overhearing.” Jim lifts up the sax. “We were hoping to head out to Risa and find work, but we were robbed in the powder room. Perhaps if you can give us passage we can fill in? At least until you find replacements? ”
“You can’t trust anyone these days,” Hikaru chips in, clutching imaginary pearls and smiling sweetly. Jim so wants to kick his friend - but he’s a lady now.
“Yeah, we lost our tickets, our comms, everything.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Spock says, “but we have not heard you play. Our collective is unparalleled.”
“I think what boyfriend’s trying to say is that we have a rep to maintain, Jemima; we can’t take you on without at least a reference. Our agent’s looking into finding replacements so it’s not so bad, thank you all the same.”
Fuck.
Jim looks at Hikaru - “We can audition. Now if you like. It won’t take long...”
Nyota sighs, “Okay, show me what you got.” She turns to Spock, “Sweetheart, can you go see if Leonard’s hiding in the men’s room? I saw him a while back but I think he’s hoping I won’t notice our lead singer’s gone AWOL.”
Jim takes out his sax, inserts the mouth-piece and licks his lips, “What kind of music do you guys play? We can pretty much turn our hands to anything, though we sway more towards old tunes, swing, jazz…” Hikaru’s already pulled his bass out and is examining it - the first chance he’s had to check for damage. By the look on his face, all is well.
“Saxa Woogie,” Spock suggests impassively and Jim has to suppress a giggle at how incongruous the words sound coming out so serious.
“Good choice, man,” Hikaru nods approvingly and runs his fingers over the neck of his double-bass then gives it a twirl on the spot. “’kay, Jim, er… Jemima, 2, 3, 4-“ and Jim launches into the opening bars, watching with satisfaction as Nyota begins to tap her feet.
*** Saxa Woogie ***
Within moments, three girls emerge from the ship grinning at each other and surround the two of them; one tosses a trumpet at Nyota who joins in butting shoulders with Jim while the girls link arms and improvise the vocals. There’s a tall brunette and two blonds Jim notices with delight - he should fit right in.
While they play, Jim keeps one eye on the door to the men’s room over the shoulders of the small group of passers-by, including the bleary-eyed captain, who’ve gathered to enjoy the impromptu performance. His heart’s tight with anticipation; if Leonard is Hot Guy then this is going to turn out to be a helluva trip.
Sure enough, just as they finish up, and their little audience applauds and whoops, Spock emerges gripping the arm of Hot Guy who looks like he’s going to hit him, face pink with barely contained rage.
“Are you out of your Vulcan mind, Spock, what are you? My mom?”
“That would be medically impossible, and if it were so, I would have disowned you by now.” Spock nevertheless lets go and straightens the front of his suit jacket where it’s become rucked up, presumably from some kind of tussle off-stage as he tried to persuade Leonard to come out.
“If you’ve damaged my guitar I’ll…” Leonard glowers and one of the girls, blue-eyed with ash blond hair and gorgeous cheekbones, approaches him. She touches his cheek.
“Come on, baby, I’ve got some Valium in my bag, you’ll sleep through the whole trip.”
Leonard’s lost any southern charm from earlier, his voice louder and growlier by the second. “I don’t wanna sleep through the trip, Christine, fact of the matter is I don’t want to go on the fuckin’ trip in the first place.”
“Len, quit cussing, there are refined ladies present,” Nyota indicates Jim and Hikaru, “meet our new band members - Jemima and Daphne - say hi.”
Leonard appears to take a deep breath and closes his eyes a moment to compose himself. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more courteous. “Hi.” He holds out a large, tan hand to Jim who takes it with a pounding heart, remembering to keep his grip light though it lingers a little too long - but so fucking what, the guy is, did he mention - hot. “And I apologize for my language,” Leonard adds, ducking his head and doing that hat thing again. “I’m hoping I can make it up to y’all.”
Yeah, Jim’s hoping, with those lovely, warm, long fingers.
But it looks like Hikaru is having similar ideas: “Oh, I’m sure you can,” Hikaru steps between Jim and Leonard and tilts his head to the side, his eyes sweeping up and down the tall figure, “a big hunk of a man like you.”
Lady or not, Jim decides he’s going to kill his friend, soon as he can get his hands on a weapon.
“It is an inefficient use of your time, attempting to engage the doctor in any romantic relationship,” Spock says sagely, “his sexual proclivities are directed exclusively towards members of his own sex.”
Christine snorts by Leonard’s side.
“I’m not a doctor, I’m a musician - how many times I gotta tell you, you green skinned-?“
“Leonard!” Nyota warns him. “Now get your fine ass on board before Spock has to pinch you.”
“Yeah, come on, doc,” Christine slaps him on the butt and then smiles at Jim and Hikaru. “See you ladies on board - I’ll save you a bunk.”
“So we’re hired?” Jim turns to Spock as he puts his sax away.
“It would appear so,” Spock says, “I will draw up the necessary documents.”
“Awesome!” Jim slaps Hikaru on the back a little too hard, but hey, he had no business flirting with his future husband. The fact that Bones thinks he’s a girl, and their whole relationship is already based on a lie - well, there’s no such thing as a no-win scenario Jim’s learned. “Let’s shake on it!” He takes Spock’s hand and when the Vulcan raises an eyebrow, Jim immediately realizes his mistake - he’d forgotten Vulcan’s are touch telepaths and from the way he remarks smoothly “fascinating,” they are both so busted. But then Spock will also have picked up that they’re on the run and their motives are pure and Jim’s counting on this buying them some time.
onto part 2
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