kirktastic | [A Stupid Hot Mess] -- [Kirk and Bones]

Current Location: Ambassador's Lounge

Entry tags:

[A Stupid Hot Mess] -- [Kirk and Bones]

After the communication with Bones, Kirk already knew this was going to not go well. He had left a last note to Bones, giving him the location of a small lounge near the residential area. It was supposed to be for ambassadors, but hell, he was Captain. He could use it, and he could lock it down.

He also knew the replicator had access to the alcoholic menu.

He flopped down with a grunt into a heavily padded chair and closed his eyes. His left hand was throbbing slowly in time with his heart beat, and he told it to leave him alone. This was the absolute last thing he ever wanted to be doing.

And Bones was forcing him to. Fuck.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kirk's eyes went wide with the statement, and his fingers curled tightly into fists. "When the fuck did I say that?! Everyone's got issues, and these are just more of them. Why are you LOOKING for things to be bad?! Ever think for just a second that maybe this is me handling them well!? You're looking for it. You're LOOKING for me to handle this badly, and because I'm not handling it by freaking out," Again, fuck, "Now that my body's healed up, you think there's something wrong."

Bones turned fast, looking back at Kirk, his eye blazing. "You think I WANT something to be wrong with you? Do you have any idea what it was like..."

Bones folded his hands, brought them up to his face and exhaled slowly. "Smashing your hand into the mirror was not handling it well. Not talking about it is not handling it well. Yelling at me because you don't want to do this is not handling it well."

"I'm here, aren't I? Even if I don't want to be! I was answering your questions!" Kirk snapped, "You know I don't want to do this, yes I know I have to, and I'm here doing it. I've gotten used to the damn tattoos, I know what he did to me. I'm learning to handle it. I've had plenty of practice at it." Kirk twitched at the last words, but his glare didn't ease up. His next words were softer. "I'm not yelling at you because I don't want to do this, I'm yelling because I'm frustrated."

Fuck all this shit to hell, he thought to himself, looking at his feet. "Jim," he started, taking a deep breath, "has it ever occurred to you that the way you've handled things in the past might not be the best way to take care of your shit."

Taking two steps closer to Kirk, he dropped his hands to his side. "You're not that kid on the streets anymore, you don't need to- you don't have to shove it all inside. You got people now, you got family, friends, resources..."

You got me, he wanted to add, but couldn't, couldn't choke those words out.

As if Kirk was reading his mind, "I have you. That's the one I care about the most. I'm dealing with it, Bones. Dealing with it in the way that isn't going to shatter me into pieces. Nightmares, I can live with. Half-remembered things, I can live with. Sitting there talking about it dregging it all up for no reason? I can't."

"Yeah, you got me," Bones repeated, from the other side of the room. Felt safer to talk like this, a few feet between them. "And you're always gonna have me, Jim, always... so you can trust me when I tell you this - nightmares and not remembering and getting into fist fights and ignoring it all is not 'dealing with it'."

He took a step closer, hands gripping the back of one of the chairs. "I appreciate you giving me as much as you have today, I know you hate doing this shit. If you don't get it out, talk about it with me - I don't know when or where, but its gonna come roaring out one of these days, and I can only pray that its not when your life, or anyone else's is on the line." He paused, then added, "And I think deep down, you're smart enough to know that."

"Every think that different people have different ways of dealing with stuff?" Kirk grumbled, "Just because some people have to talk about stuff and some people have to make you into Doctor McCoy instead of the man you are, doesn't mean I have to. I've dealt with other stuff, and it hasn't come 'roaring out' before."

"You still got those nightmares," Bones said quietly. "How long you had those? Been having them as long as I've been sharing a room with you. You think that's dealing with it? You think your dad's dealing with it?"

"It's just nightmares. They happen, even to normal people." Kirk raised a brow in Bones' direction.

"Those are not just nightmares," Bones retorted, "and you know it. You don't talk about that shit that happened to you."

"What the hell does that mean? They're just nightmares!" Kirk gave Bones a long look.

"Long repeated nightmares aren't just nightmares."

WHAT? Kirk rolled his eyes. "Even if they are long and repeated, they are still NIGHTMARES."

"They cross into a whole new category of problems."

"Just because mine are about a specific event and not about hot dog wielding vampires doesn't mean mine are any different." His hands flailed a little, trying to get Bones to understand.

"Why don't you talk about that event, what happened to you when you were younger?" Bones asked exasperated. "Why can't you talk to me about it?"

Kirk tensed up with that comment and turned an angry glare on Bones, "That's my personal stuff to deal with, okay?" His shoulders were tight, tense, and he turned away from Bones completely, stalking across the room. "I lived my whole life with it. Don't deal with it."

"Is this how it's always gonna be with us?" Bones asked, following Kirk from a distance. "You gonna be tensing up like this ten years from now, when I ask about the Narada, or your childhood, or whatever the fuck happened to you that makes you wake up frightened in the middle of the night? Ignoring it all, acting like there's nothing wrong?"

Kirk didn't turn around, "What about every time, when we were in the academy, anyone mentioned their father?" His voice was very soft. "You think you're free of your own nightmares? You have them too."

Bones stood silent. "Yeah," he replied after a long moment. "Guess I do. But we're not talking about me right now, we're talkin' 'bout you."

"But how can you tell me that what I'm doing is wrong, when you're doing it yourself?" Kirk asked softly.

"Because maybe I'm as fucked up as you are, and just - no one's called me on it."

"Maybe we're not fucked up. We're just two guys with shitty things happening in our lives and that's how we cope." Kirk turned back and looked at Bones. "I'm willing to talk to you Bones, even if I don't want to, but I'm not gonna just sit here and let you tell me I'm fucked up."

"But we're not coping, Jim, we're ignoring it," Bones replied with a sigh. "I can admit it, I've pushed a lot of it back, don't want to talk about it, don't want to think about it."

"I didn't mean to say you were fucked up, Jim... though I think that something's wrong when two people like us can share almost everything but what happened to them." He shrugged, moving to a chair and sitting down heavily in it. "Maybe I'm just tired of not knowing what happened to you, not being able to do more for you, or being so damned sad all the time when I think about what happened before..."

Bones looked up at the ceiling and bit his lip. "She asked me about it. About what happened with my dad."

"...Your mom?" Kirk asked, sitting down again and looking with worry to Bones. He clenched his fists, and then let out a breath.

"You ask me a question. Not a crazy broad question. Give me something specific, and I'll answer. And you do the same. Okay?"

Bones looked over at Kirk sitting across from him. He looked... willing, if that was a way to describe someone. Nodding, he took a breath.

"Why did you ask for those tattoos?"

"I was drugged. I can't remember a lot of it." Kirk said quietly, honestly, leaning back with a manner that suggested he was still uneasy. "I just listened to him talk for hours on end... and he went to write more of his stuff on me and... I just remember thinking that I wanted something of mine instead."

He shrugged, a little. "Made sense, then. Now..." He brushed his fingers over Vulcan. "I don't know. Don't know."

"You told me that you wanted to keep them," Bones responded quietly. "Do you still feel that way?"

"...ones on my arm." He tapped his right forearm with the side of his index finger. "The rest can go."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject