kirktastic | [Need to Punch Something] -- [Kirk and Kirk]

Current Location: Gym

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[Need to Punch Something] -- [Kirk and Kirk]

Between finding out about Alex, finding out about Spot, and finding out that the bridge had gotten something from the planet below, Kirk was... well, frustrated wasn't quite the word. Stressed was definitely it, and there was one thing (other then alcohol, and he was refusing to go that low right now) that worked to get him ... okay TWO things including sex, but that wasn't (amazingly) on his mind either.

He wanted to punch something. Hard. Jim sounded like a good idea for a sparring partner right now.

With a fast comm to Jim, he had himself a sparring partner as he got off shift. He went back to his quarters and pulled on the same basic clothing he had worn back at the Academy when teaching classes - no formal gi, just loose shorts and a tee shirt.

He glanced around the gym, wondering if he had beat Jim there. When he didn't spot his counterpart, he found a flat, open spot and started to stretch out. Briefly, he wondered if pulling out safety equipment would be a good idea. At least the gloves. It'd keep his knuckles from ending up with bruises... and putting any on Jim.

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When Jim arrived--in exercise pants that felt curiously loose and a towel around his neck--he wasn't sure what to expect. Kirk had commed him, which was a good thing. Why, specifically, Kirk felt the need to spar at this moment and why he was the appropriate partner, he was less sure about. It could go either way, he thought. For him, physical contests were by no means automatically emotionally-driven. And even if it was, maybe it was what Kirk needed.

Maybe he needed some of that, too. He knew he was tired of punching a bag--that had been enough, almost, when it was just boredom he had to content with. Now... well, suffice to say, there was a lot on his mind. Which crept back to Len, echoed questions about where it all goes--he shook them from conscious thought.

He found Kirk easily, and put on a smile. "Glad you called me," he said. "There's only so much I can do before I start coloring the walls."

Kirk glanced up, and smirked at the statement, "You color my walls? I'm gonna make sure I put you on janitorial work for a week." Both... serious and a tease. Not that he thought Jim would actually DO that.

"You give me a real sparring session... I have something for you to do."

"You mean I have to work for it?" Jim asked. "Why didn't you tell me? Just... don't make me a yeoman again." He shuddered, tossing his towel to the side. "I hated that."

He got up to his feet, snickering, "Not that. And I did just tell you." He was teasing, but his body just wanted to loosen up. He stretched his neck from side to side, then asked bluntly, "Wrestling? Martial arts? What do you know?"

Jim pulled one arm across his body, then the other. "Try me," he said. "I've done a fair bit of grappling, judo, boxing--sort of gone my own way the past few years, in practice, but I can play by the rules if I think about it. I make a point of learning at least enough to get by. You never know who's going to call on you for a match."

"My kinda man." He smirked, stepping forward, "Then we'll just go as it goes, if we both know such a hodgepodge." He crouched a little, "Need something today."

Jim tilted his head from side to side, unconsciously mimicking Kirk's stretch, and grinned. But his answering "yeah" was heavy with unspoken need as well.

He dropped into an easy, balanced stance, arms half-extended, his eye on Kirk's face.

What's up with you, Jim? He wanted to know, but well... he wasn't sure if either of them were quite ready, yet. They could get some of it out of their system.

He moved forward, the pad of one foot scraping on the mat, circling Jim. He moved onto a quarter turn before he lashed out with a fast strike at Jim's midsection.

He'd wondered how much he'd be able to anticipate, once it came to this. How alike they were in this, in instinct and motion? He was ready for the strike, waiting for it even as he countered Kirk's turn, and he feinted and caught Kirk's arm in an attempt to use his momentum against him.

Would it be like fighting himself? Could he beat himself? How could you beat someone who potentially knew everything you'll do? It was a challenge, a challenge he could use right now. He felt Jim's hands catch his arm, so he bent his elbow and pulled his arm in tightly to trap those hands. He brought up his other hand, and went to drive the side of his hand in a hammerfist at Jim's shoulder.

Jim already felt better.

There was something so simple about pure motion, even about the pain when a blow connected, that condensed life into that blinding moment. Which was what he needed right now. His shoulder absorbed the shock and instantly he pulled back, bringing Kirk's arm with him and twisting neatly underneath to pull Kirk over his shoulder and onto the mat, before he could regain his balance.

Kirk braced himself, and loosened himself, so that he could absorb the fall as his back hit the mat. He twisted his arm sharply to free it even as he got partly to his feet, kicking out with the flat of his foot right at Jim's ankle. Never enough power to snap it, he wasn't out for blood, but to drive Jim back and send him down.

Slightly off-balance from the throw, Kirk's foot caught him just right, and he over-corrected and stumbled backward, hitting the floor.

It dissolved into a wrestling match. Kirk moved quickly, leaping almost like a cat, and grabbed for Jim's leg. He tried to get his hand under Jim's thigh to pull his hips upwards.

Wrestling match though it was, it wasn't necessarily messy or desperate. Both men moved with assurance. Jim let Kirk grab his thigh, but he was looking for leverage to get Kirk in an arm lock. If he was successful, Kirk's movements would be fruitless.

Kirk was starting to see it as it came. If his arms were caught.. shit. He brought a leg up and slid it to hook with Jim's, trying to keep his arms from getting captured. It was easier to concentrate completely on this, just these motions that made him focus entirely.

Jim turned with the leg, hoping that if Kirk followed, he'd be pulled onto his back. There was a fierce grin on his face, but it was just the glow of friendly competition, everything else melting away. Kirk, like him, didn't adhere to any one style or discipline. And there was a fascinating tug between the natural unpredictability of that, and the sort of body-reading Jim had already noticed when they had been occupied in bed. They knew each other instinctively, the unpredictability not erased by anticipated.

Kirk knew that the others, the other counterparts of people, seemed to share something between them. John and Bones... Sulu and Harold... he didn't understand completely, but he knew that he didn't feel any of that stuff with Jim. Or... maybe he did, and didn't realize it.

Kirk let his knee hit the floor and spread his thighs, bracing a knee to either side to force his center of gravity low. It was neat to fight someone like Jim. He wasn't restricted to any one style, flowing smoothly between anything that came to mind.

They continued grappling, not frantic but with a flow of its own, moving in curious tandem as each gained the upper hand and lost it. To watch them, the curious balance might not have been immediately noticeable.

Jim did think they had a connection between them. He knew when Kirk was near. Knew his body, his reactions. Had been able to reach out and anchor him with his own strength with Kirk had needed it. It was one reason he could not countenance a break between them.

If he had thought more about it, he would have realized those same things. The unconscious knowledge of any time Jim was near him, their instinctive reactions... the pain that came at the mere thought that they could have hated each other.

Kirk grunted as his back finally hit the floor with a damn smart move from Jim's hip. He surged up, trying to keep his shoulders from laying flat against the mat.

Jim's hold was imperfect, Kirk instinctively countering, but while Kirk was young and fast he hadn't yet reached the prime of his strength and Jim did have some advantage there. The struggle continued, Jim hooking a leg through and around Kirk's in a hold that would (hopefully) keep him from recovering without doing lasting harm. He grinned down at Kirk in delighted competition.

"Bastard!" Kirk gasped out, grinning fiercely in return. He flexed out against Jim's greater strength, body straining, trying to find a way out of the hold. Their bodies were intertwined, holding each limb in an attempt to stop the other.

Jim laughed, forgetting their disagreement entirely.

"Face it," he said. "I'm stronger. But you'll look like me in less than ten years, so I wouldn't--oof--worry too much about it."

"No way-- I'll look better... in ten years!" Kirk bucked his lower body, trying to break the hold. Damn, he hoped he had this strength in ten years.

Jim snorted. "That's not even possible," he said. "You give?"

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