taxonomites | 004 ¤ [Visual | Location: Sanctuary for All]

"Big damn hero," he slurred, holding out a hand and expecting the bottle to be placed in it. "Gimme."

Jim Kirk would be waiting a long time for that bottle as McCoy had no intention of relinquishing it. "Jimm when in the last..." He paused to recall the troubling number, "... Three years have you ever managed to take your poison from me?"

Hell yeah, it was delicious tongue sizzling poison.

"I intend on making this the first!" Kirk declared, refusing to admit that his previous attempts had been failures, and launched himself at the doctor, intending on seizing the bottle back.

Maybe McCoy would have been able to fend Jim off if the Captain had not addled his mind with Goddamn his Romulan ale in some ploy to raze him. But alas, the taller man pushed out at his best friend who launched himself at him and attempted to reclaim the ale now spilling on the carpet of the Sanctuary For All.

"Don't be a fool," He said thickly. "You need at least... uh, three attempts to do it properly. And even then, you'll cheat.. somehow."

But here they were, grappling like children and over illegal alcohol beverages, of all things. Better than fighting over a woman, he supposed.

Edited 2009-10-14 22:08 (UTC)

"No green-skinned women who talk in their sleep here for me to bug about codes to cheat with now is there?" He was probably going to regret that comment in the morning, given the fact that he'd just took a stab at someone who was gone -- someone he knew and knew well and had died during the attack on Vulcan. Open mouth, insert foot, as they say.

Seeing the spots on the carpet, Kirk gasped dramatically. "Bones, you're spilling it!"

Edited 2009-10-15 13:07 (UTC)

He rolled his eyes at the mention of Gaila. It was another thing his best friend was probably going to beat himself up about and possibly get stuck bandaging his hand after punching a stationary object. Almost like clockwork.

He pushed out again as Kirk gasped dramatically at the loss of vital alcohol. "No I'm not, cut it out. Stop grabbing at me like that." McCoy demanded, although that demand sounded more like a drunken whine than a real order, as more ale chuggered out of the bottle and onto the carpet behind his back.

Edited 2009-10-16 11:45 (UTC)

"Better grabbing than shoving away!" He slurred drunkenly and perhaps this inebriated babble and suddenly become a double-edged sword with an underlying meaning. Even more so as he continued. "All I do, y'know. Shove people away. Don't know... Don't know to hold on."

"Could have fooled me. You seem to do a good job of it when you decide to skip off a mountain, Jim. And give me a heart attack." McCoy replied evenly to the drunken babble from his best friend, "You never hold on because relationships can't kill you. Hurt like a bitch, but physically you’ll be fine. Wish you could see that sometimes."

"Hey now, Chekov beamed us back before we were squished and imploded, thank you very much!"

Snorting for reasons he'd forgotten about by now, he wandered over to the bed and flopped backwards on it. Not his bed, but since when did he care about personal space? Bones had lost his rights to his personal space where Jim Kirk was involved years ago.

With a groan, he tossed his arms over his eyes. "Make it sound like I've gotta death wish or somethin'."

McCoy missed his temporary personal space that he had acquired in the Sanctuary for All. Well, the space that his older self had secured after speaking with the wicked witch of this castle. Oh, who was he kidding? She had twisted his arm into the idea of coming here, while Uhura had found her way here by herself and it was him pulling rank that shuffled Kirk in the vague direction of the cathedral. Just like cattle, he thought drunkenly. One that was occupying his unmade bed and whining. Good grief.

"I do wonder sometimes." McCoy replied a little tetchily, with a tint of weariness behind her remark before he sat back down in the chair, letting the bottle dangle from between his fingers languidly, "Give a guy a heart attack with your vitals jumping up and down every five seconds. It's like a... goldfish with ADD or something."

"A goldfish with ADD?" He picked his arms off his face just enough to peer at his friend. "One that can't make up his goddamn mind 'bout what he wants. Should be easy, y'know? Not, though. Always complicated. Dunno if you wanna go left or you wanna go right or if you just want to jump or ignore it and go on to something else."

Was he making any sense? Hell if he knew. At this point, Kirk was just babbling.

McCoy glanced over at Kirk sprawled over his bed and announced: "And with a lifespan of only two years if you're too careless. Too much nibbling on soggy food, swimming in the same circle over and over again, and becoming lonely in that glass bowl." He tipped the bottle up to his lips, "Joanna had one for a while. Died after a month. Too busy with studying to pay proper attention to that thing; she was crushed."

He sounded crushed about it too.

As drunk as he was, Kirk sat up and looked over at the crestfallen expression on his friend's face. What he said next was supposed to be more of a thought, but hey, restraint wasn't what it should be when your mind was foggy with alcohol. "Man, if you were a chick and I wasn't so sure you'd hit me in the head with that bottle, I'd hug you."

Flopping back down after saying that, the captain let out a loud sigh. "I dunno what to do. What I should do."

McCoy was deeply disturbed by that offer of physical comfort from the other man. Deeply disturbed or oddly touched, in someway. Through his drink-addled brain, it did not really matter at the moment; he only hoped that it would not further disintegrate into him and Jim telling each other that they loved each other, man and make it awkward in the morning. It was like the Ole Miss all over again.

"You're so drunk." He replied with an arched eyebrow and rolled his eyes at the sigh that followed him Jim, "Turning off your tablet will be a start. Stop drinking this delicious crap," he shook the bottle of Romulan ale at the Captain and rubbed his face with his other hand, "and things'll fall into place, Jim."

He paused and added: "Unless you have some elderly Vulcan bastard on your shoulder giving you tips."

"So? So are you, old man." Kirk waved a hand at him and his suggestions. "No, no, not about that! About her! What to do about her and these...feelings of hers and--"

Groaning, he rolled over, snatching a pillow to bury his face in. Voice stifled by the pillow, he could've very well mumbled, what I feel. Or maybe it was, tortoise peel.

McCoy sighed and pushed himself to his feet before grabbing the pillow stuffed over his friend's face and peered down at him although he was swaying noticeably, "Stop being so dramatic. Tortoises' don't peel, you infant." before dropping it back over his face again and walking back over to his chair.

"I know what Spock would say about this... feelings are just chemical reactions, which makes me wonder what Lieutenant Uhura sprays on her daily to snag his attention. Probably spent his evenings making sure his rulers were exactly accurate before she... God, I don't even want to think about it."

The pillow that Bones had picked up off his face and dropped back down was thrown at and surprisingly struck the doctor's head. "And I do? Thanks for the mental pictures, asshole."

Kirk rolled over for a moment, grumbling something incoherent that he probably couldn't even understand himself. More things about tortoise peels, no doubt. In an odd moment of sobriety -- or perhaps it was still drunkenness, being that he was admitting to this -- he said, "I really like her, Bones. And it's kinda...freakin' me out."

The pillow only managed in making his hair even more dishevelled than being a real injury and he licked his lips, picked the pillow up from off the floor, and rested it on his lap. All while keeping a perfectly lined face as he smoothed down his hair and he listened to his friend despondently mumble about liking the girl. He remembered how it was to be that age... young, hopeful, so Goddamn in love but unable to fathom what to do. What to say to them. He had been an awkward kid growing up; it was always the girls who dragged him to the dance floor. Well, not a dance floor...

"I really liked this girl. Well, a woman... but she was so Goddamn beautiful, age difference didn't really matter to me because there was a real... connection there." He chucked bitterly, "Emony Dax, three-time latinum medalist in the '24 Olympics on Aldebaran. Couldn't stop staring at her once I saw who it was. She cottoned on pretty quickly to my act, stood on my toes, and pretty much directed the conversation until she got what she wanted. Hehe."

It felt odd, talking about her to Jim. Refreshing, but it still hurt after so many years though.

"God, I really loved her, Jim... but something took her away from me. Hell, maybe it was politics or maybe she just wanted to let me down gently after that fucking host business that I couldn't handle at that age, but whatever it was, I am sure as hell it won't happen to your girl. We don't even know who or what it is that has brought us here and wherever or not we're ever going to go home."

Romulan Ale, you have never been so needed in his life. "You like her. I get it. Like is a soft word. Love is terrifying, but girls won't wait around forever for you... you can just ask Jocelyn about that."

Edited 2009-10-17 12:25 (UTC)

Whatever it was Kirk expected Bones to say in respond to his lamenting over girl woes that shouldn't really be that big of a deal if he were anyone but Jim Kirk, it wasn't this. It wasn't a story about a girl -- wasn't that gymnast a Trill, if he remembered right? -- from before he met the ex-wife whom he'd loved and lost for reasons he didn't understand.

A bit in awe and politics still hanging in the air, Kirk rolled over and sat up. "The Federation doesn't have the best of relations with Trillius Prime. There was a whole four weeks of information on that planet in Practicum of Interstellar Diplomatic Policies. They've got a lot of secrets and don't like being asked about them. Probably told us five billion times over those weeks not to ask about their secrets. There isn't really anything bad about the diplomatic relations, but they aren't...good, either. Trill just wants to be left alone and sometimes the Federation doesn't respect that."

He paused, a bit unsure what to say after Bones' confession and what he'd already contributed.

"Maybe some of them don't, but their government doesn't. Hell, I don't know what I'm saying."

Turning his attentions to what Bones had said about Buffy, Kirk let his shoulders sag and directed his gaze to the floor. He didn't talk about her to anyone, yet people knew they had a thing. Faith knew. Gossip Girl knew. So many others, too. Probably more after their rather overzealous public display of affection at the beach the other day. But therein lied the problem: there wasn't really a thing anymore, even if there was feelings.

"She said she was falling in love with me. But she's not my girl. Not really officially ever and not anymore in even that sense." Without looking up, he gestured to the ale. "That's why I'm drinking that stuff."

Edited 2009-10-17 15:56 (UTC)

McCoy snorted bitterly as Jim explained about the cloistered attitude of Trillius Prime and its many inhabitants, although it came out more of a choked sob in all honesty as he reminisced over what had happened. All Trills has a constant stick rammed up their arses in his opinion, but that was because he was a bitter man who could not let go of the past. Or crush out the fabled snippets of a hazy future that could not really exist anymore, bar an elderly Vulcan skulking somewhere in '58 where they were supposed to be instead of this glitch-ridden city, intent on keeping his presence in this new reality under wraps.

"I don't know either." He admitted after another long draught from the bottle of ale he had won, "It still hurts like a bitch though. And two years is not long enough for a government to change, unless this alternate reality Nero decided to weave for us changes... she's going to be dead in two years. Murdered. I'll lose her when I didn't even have her in the first place. How pathetic is that?"

A Tessma terrorist attack that barely managed to make headline news; it had hurt that old man and now it was hurting him instead and he could not shake it off. He was entirely useless to do anything.

"But you have that girl and she's falling in love with you. Looks like you'll do anything for her, but you're scared to death of committing yourself to being her knight or... whatever the hell you want to call this, because what if it all goes wrong? Doesn't turn out the way you hope? Will it ruin that relationship you have? You haven't got anywhere to run to, Jim. Not like me. No shuttlecraft waiting in Iowa, just bouncing off the walls of this stupid place." He shook the Ale, "This won't help you. I can't help you. What will happen will happen. We can't control our fate."

Edited 2009-10-17 16:19 (UTC)

When the drunk captain spoke up again, it was about his own problems and not what Bones had just told him. He heard it, he'd registered it, he'd wanted to rant about it and curse the timelines and interstellar politics; but right now, he needed to get this stuff about Buffy out. He needed to tell someone -- someone who knew him better than he knew himself sometimes and understood how his, contrary to popular belief, rather complex mind worked. Getting it out was what he needed and maybe then he'd stop feeling the urge to fall into a bottle of bright blue alien alcohol that went well with his eyes a bit less.

He'd go back to Bones' having memories of his other self losing Emony Dax once that was done.

"There isn't a relationship, Bones. That's the problem and God help me, I actually want one. Me, James Tiberius Kirk, Starfleet's own playboy, wants a relationship and she's the one with the committing issues!" He dropped his head into his hands. "This all so backwards."

And picked it back up again, standing as well.

"It's not you, it's me. People say that all the time in holos. Never thought someone would say that to me, nevermind that I usually don't let people get that close. She's got..." He gestured at the window as if it meant something, when really he just felt like gesturing to gesture. "Her ex is here. A blonde vampire who looks like Billy Idol named Spike. Got her all confused."

Kirk scoffed and shook his head. "I almost slept with her, Bones." That wasn't odd, but the next part was. "But, I stopped. It didn't...it wasn't right for some reason. And then everything just...went on standby and the red light's looking brighter than the green light and it's pissing me the fuck off for reasons I'm not even sure I know."

He went silent for a bit, glaring angrily at the window, before turning his attention back to Bones, speaking again in a lost-sounding voice he didn't intend to muster.

"Why the hell do I even care?"

Information about Kirk's love life was always too much information. Jim would brag to him about his latest flirting escapades, his scrambling to find out Uhura's first name during those years at the Academy, flashing that debonair smirk at him in response to his long suffering groan as he filled him in on every smooth line he spun those impressionable female cadets. McCoy had stopped counting the number of girls in their graduating class who had given Kirk the stink eye and made him guilty by association during the three years they spent keeping each other company.

But Jim Kirk had never shared something so personal like the story he was telling him now, flinging his utter confusion at the doctor, asking him questions about what he should do. The first year he knew him was like communicating with a brick wall or a scared child. Cadet Kirk would do something to rile Bones up, shout at him, push him away, slur at him about something or other and then go out until the early morning rays hit their dorm window, possibly to drink himself into a stupor or squabble with his fellow cadets in the bars.

McCoy would wait up for him though. He was worried about the younger man, showing this way more through his actions than vocalizing it. He would snap at him whilst thrusting a cup of coffee in his hands to warm him up but after those first few months, the bitter coffee was replaced by hot chocolate. And at the end of that first year, they were no longer acquaintances. They were friends. He didn't have to wait behind with hot chocolate because he was dragged along for the ride. Oh, how he hated it. But for some reason he was always by his side anyway. Every single bar crawl, every single attempt at the Maru.

"I think Finnegan was competing for that title." McCoy replied thickly before he met his eyes and stopped staring at the bottle, "Congratulations. You’re using that head of yours for once. It's called being frustrated, Jim... frustrated that it's not going to the way you want at the moment."

He looked thoughtful, before adding: "... You have always cared. It just has never occurred to you that what you do sometimes constitutes as caring, now you have to think about it, such as not sleeping with her that time. You can be a real asshole, Jim. But they wouldn’t put you in charge of all them other kids if you didn't have that side of yours which made you strut in here, drink this shit and ramble on at me about these feelings of yours."

Edited 2009-10-17 18:13 (UTC)

"He wishes," Kirk declared with a snort. "Finnegan got my sloppy seconds."

And almost as soon as he said that, he regretted it. Odd, how he actually cared now -- or realized that he cared. Gaila was part of the reason for that, which made him feel awful about the crack he made at her earlier in regards to how he'd used to her to get the codes to the Maru test. She'd been his friend and that hadn't been right of him to do. And she was a face that stood out and helped make the numbers that were the girls in his past into faces as well. Faces with names and lives and feelings that he'd hurt. Why had it taken a girl he knew and had been intimate with dying during a horrible crisis for him to see the error of his ways?

"What am I supposed to do, then? I doubt caving to the urge to deck this vampire isn't the answer."

Sloppy seconds. Figured he would make a derogative term to refer to their fellow student at the Academy who enjoyed riling his best friend up and occasionally came across them punching the living daylights out of one another. Why Jim could not get along with any other male without making them want to punch him, sans himself, was beyond comprehension.

Oh, wait. Yes it was because he just mentioned how he wanted to deck this... wait. Wait. What?

"... Vampire?"

He blinked and then raised the bottle, giving it a suspicious look with an arched eyebrow, before looking at Jim. He did not just the vee word; it was the ale playing tricks of his functions.

Suddenly the conversation took a turn from lamenting about lost and found loves of the blonde variety to about an entirely different blonde of the Billy Idol look-a-like kind. Kirk hadn't believed it himself, really, but he knew that Buffy hadn't been lying to him when she told him about the existence of vampires and her line of work. It'd been during that truth glitch. Her lying to him was impossible. And then he'd spoken to a vampire -- the vampire whose mere presence was confusing Buffy and putting a wedge in Kirk's relationship with her. The evidence was pretty irrefutable, as much as Kirk himself was still having trouble wrapping his mind around it.

He eyed the bottle Bones held up. "I'm not that drunk." A beat. "Okay, I am pretty damn drunk, but I'm not drunk enough that I'm hallucinating and making up the existence of vampires. Other worlds here, Bones. Vampires may not exist in our world, but they do in Buffy's. In fact, she's the Vampire Slayer. The."

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