hey you wonderful person :D (this is for the introduce yourself thing btw >_>) I'm sofie, but online, I mostly go by Fnuggi (pronounced Fnug-gee). I'm a 23 year old girl from Denmark who is also a obsessed with Star Trek (which you probably already knew). I grew up with a dog (1/3 Golden Retriever and 1/3 yellow labrador), but I currently don't have any pets (I'd love to get a dog myself at some point
aw, hi you wonderful person back~ okay, I’m beej, 25, no where near Denmark (other side of the ocean in the cold of Canada), and yes, Star Trek obsessions are truly the way to go. (can I make a way of the future joke here)
oh man with that mix they must have been such a happy excitable puppy that’s awesome, I had two dogs growing up; one beagle, one akita/german shepard breed but no dogs now, just a cat named Troi. (but I also want a dog again someday)
"If someone doesn't shut him up soon I won't be held responsible for what I do to him." Jim’s palms were pressed into his eyes, and he groaned, wishing that Section 31 had picked a more cooperative defendant’s trial to raid.
“I was not aware that you were concerned about such an occurrence.”
Jim’s hands dropped to his side and he glared at Spock, mouth open to snarl at him, ask what the hell he was trying to say, when Spock continued.
“I see now, however, that I was incorrect in my assumptions from earlier.” He turned to Nyota. “May I ask how you knew that the Captain was bluffing? I was unaware until you joined in.”
Jim had been surprised too; he didn’t think either of them would realize. That Spock had picked up after Nyota had didn’t surprise him, as Spock was much more in tune with her than Jim, but as for Nyota--
“His phaser was set to stun.” Her voice was wry. “He wasn’t going to hurt anyone with it.”
Jim glanced down, suddenly feeling very foolish--and very lucky that Pierce hadn’t realized.
“So.” He cleared his throat. “We have the location. We need that database. But I don’t think I’m alone in not wanting to bring Pierce with us when we go.”
“While I concur, there is a high probability that there is some sort of safeguard protecting the data that Pierce will need to deactivate. Likely a password, or perhaps a DNA or retinal scan.”
“We can fake that,” Jim murmured. “Construct an artificial eye blueprint--finger, too.”
“And if there is a requirement for voice recognition?”
“I’m pretty sure he knows that he’d better cooperate. We find somewhere safe to stash him. One of us stays there, the other two head off. We stay in contact, just in case there’s anything we need to know. But we need somewhere safe to stash him.”
The three of them were quiet for a moment, but after what seemed to be the slightest flash of hesitation on the Vulcan’s face, Spock spoke up.
--
“And you’re sure no one’s going to be there.” It had to be the fifth time Jim had asked, but he had to be sure. More than that, he had to talk about something before he went insane with waiting. Slower, less-detectable transportation sucked, and Spock wouldn’t even let him drive. While he realized that compromising the location of one of the Vulcans embassy’s most secure safehouses was a necessity, he would rather take them there himself than simply tell Jim where to go.
So he was stuck in the back with Alexander Pierce and he wasn’t even allowed to break any bones.
“You’re lucky,” he growled, looking out the window at the Golden Gate Bridge as they neared it. Spock had at least deigned to reveal that their destination was at least somewhere close to it, so he knew that it wouldn’t be much longer, and then twenty minutes at most to the storage area where Pierce stored the data. Ingenious, really, leaving it somewhere so… mundane.
“That you cooperated, I mean. They wouldn’t let me go in with pain, said we had to ask first.” He nodded up front. “But if we hadn’t had any other choice, they would have let me have my way.”
He could see Nyota shift slightly from his position behind Spock, but she said nothing. He knew that she disapproved, but he knew that she figured letting him talk about it wasn’t something she should stop him from doing, if it made him feel better. Since he wouldn’t actually have acted on it, she knew.
Pierce, however, didn’t. Judging by the expression on his face, he thought he was dealing with a crazed Captain, one who had snapped after losing too many loved ones to Section 31.
Jim reminded himself that this wasn’t the case. That he was just acting, making their jobs easier if they needed any more information from Pierce. That it wouldn’t have mattered if Bones was sitting right there next to him. This was just the most expedient way to resolve things.
“You know, maybe they’d let me do what I wanted after we finish up with all of this. I mean, if you’re no longer any use to us…”
Pierce whirled his head, anger and fear mixed on his face as he glared at Jim. “Look here, you little brat--”
The car swerved, throwing Pierce into Jim, with a force that nearly flipped them over as Spock scrambled to get the wheel under control. It took a moment to realize that Pierce’s hands were at Jim’s waist, scrambling for something--
“Shit!” Jim yelped as he grabbed for the phaser in Pierce’s hand, turning to kick at his chest. He missed the phaser, but his feet connected, throwing Pierce back towards the window. The man lifted the phaser, however, aiming at Spock--
The window shattered, and all four of them ducked--except for Pierce, who had tried, but he seemed to have been attached to the window, through some form of magnetic force maybe, or...
No. Jim’s stomach clenched with an icy horror as he spotted the bright silver fingers clenched around the back of Pierce’s neck. Pierce screamed as he slammed into the frame of the window, bending at an unnatural angle. He screamed once more, something that was cut disturbingly short as he folded right in half and went through the window, body flung dozens of feet until his flight stopped suddenly with a crack against one of the Bridge’s pillars.
“Shit!” Jim yelped as a loud rending sound cut through the car and they swerved--it took him a moment to see that the same metal arm that had just murdered Pierce had torn a hole in the roof of the car and was now trying to grab Spock. Instead of trying to fight back, Spock simply slammed on the brakes.
Jim could see the body above them appear as it was propelled forward, but with an awful screeching sound, the metal arm caught. Instead of sending the assassin flying, he swung in a curve, coming back and barely managing to shield his face before he slammed into the windshield, shattering it and sending glass flying everywhere.
Nyota screamed, and even Spock let out a startled yelp. From the back seat, Jim could see the assassin withdrawing his metal arm from the hole, but before he could lunge at any of them, Spock swung a punch in his direction.
While Spock’s leverage wasn’t good enough to send him flying, the man at least staggered back, and Jim fumbled for his phaser before realizing that Pierce had been holding it when he had gone out the window.
“Run him over!” he yelled, and he could hear the car squealing as Spock pressed on the gas pedal, but it wasn’t going anywhere--the assassin had planted his metal arm firmly at the front of the car, stopping them from moving forward.
“Give me your phaser!” Jim yelled, and Nyota tossed the second back at them. Jim’s hand fumbled for the seatbelt, and he switched the phaser to kill as he stepped out of the car. Hopefully, he could startle the guy long enough to get them going again.
He lifted the phaser, aimed, and fired.
The assassin whirled. Jim couldn’t read his expression, not with the full face mask, but if he had to guess, the guy was less “stopped” and more “angry.” This had probably been a bad idea. He turned, grabbing the door to dive back into the car, but he staggered as, with a wrench of metal, the door was ripped off its hinges and flung into traffic. Jim turned, eyes wide, but he didn’t even have time to move before the metal hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him into the air.
He lashed out, not close enough to punch. Images of Pierce’s body, snapped and broken, against the Bridge’s beam flashed through his mind as he did, barely close enough to rake his fingers across the man’s face.
He managed to knock the goggles askew, but the assassin didn’t even seem to notice, instead gripping Jim’s throat harder. Jim’s nails scrambled and slipped on the metal wrist, but to no avail as his vision began to go dark.
A jolt, and the pressure on the fingers lessened, then let up entirely. Jim fell to his knees, coughing, to see Spock behind the assassin, hand gripping the assassin’s shoulder in a nerve pinch.
Only it was pinching the left arm.
“No!” Jim tried to choke out. The other one. But he couldn’t get anything out beyond a “N--” and a hacking cough as he tried to breathe again.
The metal arm swung, clobbering Spock in the head and sending him staggering backwards. A pair of sharp blows to his torso stunned him, and a vicious kick sprawled him across the ground as the assassin slid off the goggles obscuring his vision in a fluid motion that didn’t even break his rhythm.
The man was as strong as Khan, Jim thought with horror. He was probably one of Khan’s crewmates, though why he was working with Section 31 after what they had done to Khan, Jim didn’t know.
Still, no one ever said that Jim Kirk made intelligent decisions when a friend’s life was in danger. He shoved himself into a standing position, swaying for a moment, but then leaped forward as the assassin lifted his foot to stomp one metal-plated boot onto Spock’s head.
He reached his target in time, throwing his entire weight around the man’s neck before clinging like a monkey. He staggered, off-balance and flailing in surprise, and Jim reached down to attack at the one exposed part he could reach: his eyes. He tried jamming his fingers in them, hopefully leaving him blind, but the assassin managed to knock his hands aside at the last second. Instead, he gripped at the face mask, clinging on for dear life, knowing that if he was thrown off--
He didn’t have time to finish the thought before it happened. The world tilted, turning upside-down as he was torn free from the man’s body. He clutched at the man’s face for a second longer, trying to resist, but the mask came free, and Jim sailed through the air, his back hitting the pavement with a force that knocked the wind out of him. He tried to move, tried to do something, but for a moment, all he could do was stare, in a daze, at the face mask clutched in his hand.
The sound of horns honking, of Spock’s shout, of footsteps on the pavement, jerked him unpleasantly back to reality, and he released the mask as he rolled to the side. He couldn’t keep back a groan of pain as he pushed himself to his knees, barely able to make it that far.
He turned and looked up at the assassin.
The world seemed to slow as he stared, taking in every curve and line and feature of that face. Of hazel eyes, full lips, and cold, cold expression.
His mind refused to process it for what felt like several long moments, taking in the long, ragged hair framing the square face, the foreign metal arm, telling him that it can’t be true.
But his lips betrayed him.
“Bones?”
His voice was hoarse, cracking in what suddenly seemed to be silence.
“Who the hell is Bones?”
Jim let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh that sounded more like a sob to his ears at the sardonic tone, so familiar and so foreign at the same time.
It was even tinged with a hint of Southern accent.
“It’s me,” he whispered, desperation making his voice thick. “It’s Jim.”
“Jim Kirk?”
Jim’s heart leaped. “Yes! Oh god, Bones, you know who--”
“I’m here t’take you in.” The voice, though still accented, was cold, unforgiving, as Bones lifted his phaser rifle, aiming at Spock’s head.
A shot from a phaser rifle rang out--but it was from inside the car. It missed, leaving a smoking hole in the railing on the bridge, but the shots didn’t let up. Bones’s body jerked, then jerked again, stumbling back as he turned in surprise, backing up towards the railing--and the giant hole in it.
“No--Uhura, wait!”
But there was another shot, landing square in the middle of Bones’s torso, sending him spinning back through the hole in the railing.
“NO!”
He hadn’t screamed so loud in years--not since this--this!--had happened before. But it couldn’t be happening, not again. He refused to accept it, staggering towards the charred hole and grabbing the railing next to it, staring in horror down at the wake in the water that was all that was left of Bones.
“Jim, we have to go!”
Nyota’s voice echoed in his ear, but it didn’t seem real, wasn’t something he could process, not right now.
“But--Bones--”
“That isn’t Bones.” Nyota’s arms wrapped around him, pulling Jim back to the car. It was still running, which Jim would have thought was a miracle if he had been able to think of anything else besides the form tipping backwards over the edge of the bridge.
“Section 31 is going to be here any minute. We’ve got to get going. Otherwise, all of this was for nothing.”
He let her lead him, dazed, but he could barely feel the pavement under his feet, the pain in his throat, the remnants of glass sprinkled across his right half.
The only thing he could feel was the rending anguish of leaving the love of his life behind.
Jim says yes without really giving it a thought. It’s Jo, after all. She’s always been responsible, always been more levelheaded than either of them, and if she wants to have a sleepover, there’s no reason she shouldn’t.
Though that’s easy enough to say when you don’t have eleven teenage girls rolling out sleeping bags in your living room and whispering just loudly enough that you can make out one word in seven. Whatever they're saying just makes Joanna roll her eyes.
He wonders if they should have set them up in Joanna’s room instead, but it isn’t nearly big enough, and she had pleaded with him for use of their giant, vintage, flat-screen TV to watch some movie or other with some rather attractive superheroes.
However, they seem to have foregone the movie for now and instead had broken out heaps of makeup as they talked about Harry Potter sorting (Leonard had gone for a reread of the classic series, which meant Jim and Joanna had quickly followed, and Jo had apparently sparked an interest in her classmates) while comparing eyeshadow techniques.
Jim had never realized quite how much technical skill went into the latter.
The whispering turns to low arguing, and the only bit Jim can make out is Joanna's annoyed tone, but that shifts until it ends in laughter. Jim wonders if he should be worried.
"Hey, dad," Joanna calls from the other room as he's treating himself to the leftover pizza in the kitchen. "Can you come over here for a second?
What the hell, he thinks. It can't be that bad.
"Sit here," Jo instructs, rendering her words unnecessary by shoving him down onto one of the commandeered couch cushions. "And stay still."
"Why--"
"So, Mr. Kirk, what house are you in?"
Jim can hear Bones' answer ringing from two rooms away. "Gryffindor! More stupid bravery than either of us know what t'do with!"
"Bones!"
Leonard stops at the anguished cry coming from the living room as he's collapsing the pizza boxes. It sounds male--sounds like Jim--but all he can see for a moment is the group of Jo's friends.
And then he realizes that Jim is in that group, face coated in a pale green facial mask, eyes wide and silently pleading for assistance. The girls are digging through nail polish colors, holding the bottles up to Jim’s hands consideringly.
Leonard tries not to laugh. He isn't very successful.
"Hey, darlin'," Leonard begins, feeling an uncharacteristic surge of mercy. "Tell Jo and her friends to let you go so you can take these outside to the garbage."
(Not too much mercy.)
“Sure thing, Bones.” Jim surges to his feet, shedding girls left and right, and is snatching the boxes from Bones’s hands before he can get a good look at his face.
“Leave that on for twenty minutes before you wash it off!” Bones can’t resist calling after him.
“Good advice.” Joanna’s wry drawl is close enough to his own when he’s plotting something for him to be concerned. “It’s your turn, now.”
“My turn--I don’t think so.”
But Joanna’s pleading expression is one he’s never been able to resist, and even though, five minutes later, with that smirk on her face he damned knows he’s been had, he tilts his head back and lets them do their thing.
--
Jim hadn’t known what, exactly they were doing to Bones when he walked back into the house and past the group surrounding him, but he had just laughed to himself and headed back to their room to let the mask dry.
He’s rinsed it off and is toweling his face when Bones finally stumbles into the room. Jim is already smirking, asking how the nail polish looks, when Bones turns his head to look at Jim.
Jim lowers the towel from his damp face, mouth hanging open slightly.
“Stop your damn starin’,” Bones grumps. “I’m washin’ it off right now.”
“Don’t do that!” Jim blurts it out, towel dropping to the floor as he takes three steps forward and cups his face. Bones glares over at him, brilliant hazel eyes ringed in smoky black eyeliner. It was doing things to him. Very nice things to him. “You--damn, Bones, you look good.”
“You damn liar--”
Jim cuts him off with a desperate kiss, and suddenly it doesn’t seem to matter to Bones if Jim is lying or not.
They’re very careful to be as quiet as possible. Still, they’re very glad that Joanna and her friends have picked rather noisy movies.
--
Leonard has a feeling that he should be remembering something when he stumbles groggily into the kitchen, shirtless, for some cereal, but he’s running on suboptimal hours of sleep thanks to Jim and all he can really focus on is grabbing the milk.
“Morning,” comes the yawning voice. Speaking of Jim.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” He smiles back sleepily, reaching out to snag Jim’s wrist and tug him in for a kiss. Jim returns it for a good long while, but then moves on, pressing his lips against his jaw, his neck, his hickey-littered collarbone…
“Shhh!”
They sprang apart at the loud, giggling whisper from the other room. Shit.
They have an audience, apparently, and that would be nearly a dozen teenage girls peering at them and one looking positively exasperated.
The two of them flee back to the room, forgetting the milk on the counter, and the last thing Jim hears before the door closes is Joanna’s voice, raised in annoyance: “All right, everyone get dressed! I’m kicking you out!"
prompt - something based on this: thepathlesstrekked(.)tumblr(.)com/post/84573500452/human-rocket-its-ok-jim-id-study-dat-ass
human-rocket made a comic that really does deserve it’s own ficlet
“I gotta study,” Jim said slapping a had down onto his friend’s shoulder. Bones shook his head as the other man turned away and started off towards, what was undoubtably, something other than studying.
Bones gave a dismissive wave with his bag and grumbled.
“Study, my ass.” He turned the opposite direction and would have kept walking if he hadn’t heard Jim’s footsteps come up short. He looked over his shoulder at the blond only to see Jim with his head cocked to one side with a serious look, eyes trained on Bones’ butt. “Dammit, Jim! What are you doing?”
The blond was quiet for a beat. A small smirk started to work across his face and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Studying your ass.”
Bones eyes narrowed. He stepped forward so quickly that Jim barely had a time to register the movement, let alone dive out of the way. He winced as the doctor’s wide palm smacked across the side of his head, but managed to keep grinning.
“What?” He grinned at Bones innocently. “You told me to!”
“I swear to god, you’re 12.” Bones shook his head and walked off in the direction he had originally been heading. He looked back to yell at Jim again, only to see that the blond was still watching his ass, a small smirk on his lips. Blue eyes shot up to meet his once Jim realized Bones had stopped walking. Jim winked and turned on his heel to go “study.”
