captain_jtkirk

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.071

Well, Flynn's gone. And there's a flood on that makes you people act crazy like usual.

Any of you want a drink? Or a game of chess? Or both?

[Private to McCoy]

Bones, lie to me and say that you're making progress with the brat.

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What's wrong with my stash?

....Nothing? I can come over if you want.

Maybe come over here.

[Kirk are you already drunk or do you just not want to put on shoes or something, you loser. Whatever, she's walking the ten feet from her cabin to come knock on your door.]

[Maybe a mix of both, let's be honest.] "It's open."

She hit the release on the door, already kind of wishing that she'd just left him to drink himself into a sad hole by himself. But it wasn't not strictly lying if you knew something relevant and didn't tell the person it was relevant to, right? That was just...economy with the truth. Totally different.

And if this was what 'disappearing Flynn' Kirk looked like, she wasn't going to be the one who invited 'Flynn's graduation wouldn't have gotten you out of here anyway' Kirk onto the ship.

"Hey."

Edited 2012-06-14 12:21 (UTC)

There might have been a mix of 'this flood made his best friend forget about him and abandonment issues were coming back for the weekend' Kirk in there too. As it was, Kirk was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to wrestle a sock out of Aristotle's mouth and failing because the dog didn't want to let go.

"You figure out the flood yet?"

"Not so much. I could probably figure it out if I talked to Mozenrath long enough but he's being kind of smug and irritating."

"Isn't he always smug and irritating?"

"Moreso." She sat down on the end of his bed to watch Aristotle fighting over the sock. "Are McCoy or Dick affected?" McCoy hadn't rubbed that fact all over the network yet.

"Yeah," Kirk said, giving up on the sock for the moment, even though Aristotle continued to stand there, waving it at him. "He doesn't really know who I am."

She gave him a sidelong look - obviously one of them was on his mind because the other apparently wasn't even worth addressing - but just frowned and lay down on her stomach, reaching out to grab one end of the sock and take over wrestling duties.

"It'll only be a few days."

It was different with Dick, less depressing and more part of their normal Barge relationship.

"I know. It's just... he's different. Without me." Which was kind of weird and sobering.

Definitely McCoy, then.

"Duh, of course he is, you've been BFFs for how long?" Aristotle abandoned the sock in favor of licking her fingers and she pulled a face. "You don't think you'd be different without him?"

"I hadn't thought that deeply about it. He's crankier now than before and that's just weird because he calls me a pain in his ass daily."

"So you're actually a good influence on the guy. Maybe stop freaking out about it and appreciate it for what it is?"

Maybe Jim just didn't want to be faced with what life would be like without Bones. "You're doing a lot of talking and not a lot of drinking."

"It's not my fault you're a lousy host. Gimme a drink and I'll drink it, loser."

"You practically live here, you could've helped yourself." Jim got up anyway and went over to get her a glass. It was bourbon for once, in honor of Bones.

"Maybe I just like watching you do stuff for me." She surreptitiously tapped the mattress and Aristotle jumped up, lying down on the warm spot Jim had vacated.

Kirk turned around to see the dog in his place, and he gave them both a dirty look for it. "You shouldn't encourage him to sit on my furniture," he said, maybe a little hypocritically because he usually let Aristotle stay there if he jumped up in the middle of the night. But to get her back for it anyway, when he sat down again, it was on top of her legs.

"Hey-!" She squirmed ineffectually and bent one leg back to shove her heel into his ribs. "God, you're heavy. Get off."

"You didn't say that last night," Kirk shot back at her, laughing a little. "Stop moving or I'll spill the drink on you too."

"Pervert." But she went limp anyway because she figured he'd lose interest once she stopped fighting back.

And she was kind of right. Really, he probably would've spilled the alcohol all over if she'd been fighting him while he moved and he didn't really want to do laundry or sleep in bourbon sheets tonight. Kirk twisted a little and slid most of his weight off her lap, keeping a leg draped over hers.

"Your drink, madam."

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