Abduction? How Lovely. | TOS | 1/?
Title: Abduction? How Lovely.
Author: vekay
Universe/Series: TOS AU
Rating: PG-13 (will warn when rating goes up)
Relationship status: Pre-slash (again, will inform when this changes)
Addition Pairings: Spock/McCoy, eventual Spock/Kirk, and possible Spock/McCoy/Kirk
Word count: 1,352
Warnings: WIP, unbeta'd, slavery, mentions of dub-con, torture
Summary: Kirk had a falling out with Starfleet, now he's stuck on a planet in the middle of nowhere working for a weasel of a man just to scrape by. It's boring, too bad life decided to throw him one other curve ball when he gets picked up (kidnapped) by a pirate. A Vulcan pirate no less. A Vulcan pirate that's been hired to pick up individuals to enslave for someone else's sick and twisted literal gladiator games. Oh boy, life certainly doesn't hold back any punches.
A/N: Okay! So first ever crack at TOS. Go easy on me?
***
Life was a bitch.
Oh, it wasn’t some new understanding he had come across one day while watering his garden, he had always known that life wasn’t a fairy tale. It had proven on more than one occasion that it liked to kick him in the ass for the fun of it. It all started when he made the foolish decision to try his hand at Starfleet. It had been good for a while, but like everything else in his life up until that point, it was yanked right out from under him. And no matter of fighting to hold onto it would let him keep it, not that he had any desire to after what they had done to him.
No, now it was just a general observation he made whenever he was bored and in an irritable mood. Much like now for instance. Here he was, in some backwater planet out of reach of the Federation barely strapping by with what he had and not even that was enough. He was a genius by all standards, could work with just about anything and get it to work like new. It was this skill that landed him on a steady job; well steady enough anyway, only problem was the man who ran the whole thing.
He was a total bastard.
“Damn it! How the hell am I supposed to work when I don’t have the parts to work with?!”
His crew glanced at him but they all knew better than to actually respond when he was in a particular mood. They weren’t even bothered when he threw a wielding wrench across the garage. They had become too used to his nature to really pay him any particular attention as far as things like this went. The only one to pay him any attention was the dark headed woman on the other side of the garage. Her unusually pale grey eyes tracked every movement he had as he paced back and forth in an attempt to calm down. She allowed a soft sigh to escape past her lips as well as a shake of her head. Humans were so irritable it was hard to believe they had managed to survive this long as a specious.
“I’m going to go talk to that little weasel,” the man finally hissed as he rounded and headed straight for the exit.
Anyone in his way instantly jumped out of the way, in no way willing to get in his way when he was on the warpath. The door to the garage was one of those old-fashioned ones so he was at least given the satisfaction of slamming it behind him. A few things on shelves inside rolled off and clattered to the ground but still no one moved. But he hardly paid any attention as he crossed the hard compact dirt between the two buildings.
The garage was offset from the small “town” so no one but the people who worked there really went in the general area. So when the brunette stalked by they were smart enough to stay clear out of his way. A few of the older workers shook their head with a smile, wistfully remembering a time when they had the energy to get so worked up about anything. This was nothing new to them. They had been here long enough to know the man and all his particular moods. They knew that he wasn’t always in an irritable mood, that he was a hard worker and an excellent crew chief, but he got upset when he was forced to sit by and sit on his hands, so to speak. And even as he marched toward the office, he was trying to rein in his turbulent emotions into something respectable. However, they all knew he wouldn’t make it.
The door to the office had a hinged door as well so he threw that open and marched inside. The few people milling about jumped in surprise, a few dropping what they had been holding, as he swept past them to the door at the other end. He didn’t give so much as a warning as he barged inside.
“How many times do I have to tell you, I can’t do my damned job if I don’t have the parts for it!” he snapped as he slammed his hands on the desk.
The man on the other side gave him a lazy look, pale green eyes uninterested as they glanced back at the screen he had been looking at moments before.
“I’ll have to call you back in a minute,” he said before breaking the connection and giving the man before him his undivided attention.
“Kirk, please, sit,” he drawled as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk, only to roll his eyes when the other man did not sit. James T. Kirk was a permanent thorn in his side, but be damned if he wasn’t the best mechanic on the god forsaken planet.
The man leaned forward, fingers lacing together, and stared at Kirk with an arched brow. Kirk took a deep breath and held it for five counts before letting it out slowly. Right, he had to remember that there was no need to get upset, it never got him anywhere with this man. Then again, being civil hardly got him anywhere either.
“We need the parts,” Kirk said in a more calm tone.
“And I said I would get them,” the man replied as he leaned back, fingers still laced and elbows propped up on the arm rests.
Kirk shoved down the urge to throw the man a disgusted look. He was sitting in a high back black leather chair. The chair he had bought due to Kirk’s sweat and hard work. All of Kirk’s work went straight into his pocket and the man didn’t even have the decency to get the parts he needed in on time. Perhaps it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, but he had barely scrapped by just like everyone else on the planet and irritated him when he saw someone who did so well and yet couldn’t be bothered to be a decent human being. Then again, Kirk mused, living this far out, who could really be considered a decent human being anymore?
“With all due respect, sir,” Kirk started in a much calmer voice, "that's what you said three weeks ago. Now, I don't care if you make yourself look like a complete jackass, but I have a problem with standing around and doing nothing. I feel like I should be doing something, not standing around twiddling my thumbs while my men do the same thing. We haven't had any real work in nearly a month!"
“So? The entire planet is having a problem with work; you should consider yourself lucky you even have a job. After all, who wants to hire someone who got thrown from the big ‘Fleet?” the man asked, sneering at Kirk because he knew he had hit a sore spot.
Kirk gritted his teeth, this man was just trying to get a rile out of him, he wouldn't give the little weasel the satisfaction. Yeah, he had had some problems with Starfleet but that wasn't new, everyone who knew him knew that. It was why he was here in the first place, wasting his time and life for losers like the man across from him. Just then, the intercom buzzed and someone announced that a ship was inbound. The man shot Kirk a smug grin, which Kirk returned with a tiny quirk of his eyebrow.
“There, see, there are your supplies. I told you I would get them and I got them. Go back to the garage and I'll have the things sent over,” the man commanded as he returned his undivided attention to what he had been doing before Kirk had interrupted.
That was a clear dismissal and as Kirk pivoted on his heel to leave, he had the distinct feeling that maybe he shouldn't have worried about getting up that morning.