Ok, I lied, it's not exactly about Jim Kirk being obsessed with musicals, but it started out that way.
Rated K+ 'cause Bones swears a lot.
I DON'T OWN STAR TREK (although I wish I did).
By the way, to everyone who faved and reviewed my other fic, Legato, thanks so much!!!!! I'm going to write a sort of demi-sequel thing to it. Eventually. Um.
Yeah.
Enjoy!
Do You Hear the People Past the Point of Defying Gravity
James T. Kirk could be described as a lot of things.
His First Officer would often depict him as a leader, if a rebellious one, his CMO called him a loose cannon, and more often than not, his Communications Officer could be found assigning him any number of multilingual expletives that suited her mood.
However, the last thing anyone would say about him was that he was a musical fanatic.
Which he was.
It was a deep, dark secret he had no problems hiding except late at night when he more often than not played one of his favorite musical numbers: "Do You Hear the People Sing", from Les Miserables, "Past the Point of No Return", from The Phantom of the Opera, or "Defying Gravity" from Wicked.
It just so happened one particularly depressing Father's Day that he was sitting in his quarters, shitfaced drunk, blasting Phantom, Wicked, and Les Mis all at once, at the same time managing to hold steady a large glass of Romulan Ale.
He took a gulp of the potent drink, bombarded by "DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?!" "'CUZ I'M DEFYING GRAVITY!" and "FOR WE ARE PAST THE POINT OF NO RETURN!"
He grinned, fuzzily recalling his days at the Academy with Gaila, who was for all intents and purposes, half-Elphaba, half-Galinda.
But now Gaila was gone, just like Jim's father, and so many others…
A knock came at the door, and an equally drunk, unshaven, very irritable Leonard McCoy entered.
"Usually we wait to see if we're allowed in," Jim slurred.
"What the hell are you listenin' to?" Bones drawled, blinking, his Southern accent thickened by the drink he'd consumed. "I can hear it through the goddamn pipes."
"Musicals," came the nonchalant reply. "Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, and Wicked."
"…Riiiiiight…you of all people, a musical man."
"S'true…why are you drunk?"
"I have an excuse. What's yours?"
"Maybe you've forgotten I don't have a father."
"Maybe you've forgotten I am a father."
"Oh, right…Bones, Bones, the divorcee…"
"Shaddup you son of a bitch, I'll smack ya upside the head with that bottle of ale."
Bones took a seat next to his friend and helped him self to a glass of the blue liquid.
Jim snorted at his comment. "Whatever," he said.
"So…you like musicals?"
"As much as you like hyposprays."
"A lot, then."
"Ever since I saw Wicked as a kid…knew right then I wanted to sweep Elphaba off her feet."
"Don't get sentimental on me."
"I wasn't, I was being honest."
"You were being sentimental, and sentimental can be a pain in the ass…" the doctor trailed off, swallowing.
Jim stared at him, frowning. "Are you crying?"
"Yeah, I'm crying, whaddaya think salt water's coming out of my eyes for?!" Bones snapped, blinking and looking away. He coughed, perhaps trying to hide a sob.
Jim took another swallow of the drink. "I'm sorry about you not being able to talk to Joanna," he said.
"What're you sorry for?! You're not my goddamn ex."
There was a short silence during which Bones wiped his eyes and Jim took a swig of ale.
"M'sorry for you not having a father," the doctor said, eventually.
Jim grimaced. "Happy Father's Day," he said, with a shrug.
They clinked glasses and drank as they were slammed with:
"There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!"
"For we are past the point of no return…"
and
"No wizard that there is or was is ever gonna bring me down!"