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Title: These Children Learn from Cigarette Burns

Summary: Jim won't be your nasty little boy. Pre-movie Teenage!Kirk

A/N: Listening to 3OH!3 does this to me… Just a little something for you guys until I get another chapter of Brown-Eyed Girl up… It's finals week, y'all. That's my only excuse.


He grinned through the blood that welled up from his split lip, eyes glinting in the dark bar.

The man was at least a foot and a half taller than him, and easily two hundred pounds heavier, and yet he was the one panting heavily.

This never would have happened if Jim could just learn how to keep his attitude to himself. However, it was difficult to get a drink in this place if you weren't twenty-one, and Jim still had a few years. So what if he had flirted with the guy to get a nice buzz, played a few games of pool to keep the alcohol flowing, and then turned the guy down? He didn't feel like hooking up – he just wanted to get out of the house for a while. The fight had been dirty and chaotic, Jim's favorite. Before he had known what was happening, they had gathered quite an audience. Jim didn't mind; he liked the attention. It made his blood hum.

Speaking of which…Jim licked at the blood on his lip, savoring the coppery tang. "You still so set on takin' me home?" he called out over the jeers of the crowd and the beat of the music.

Hefty growled and lunged, leaving his left side wide open for Jim to neatly drive his foot into the man's ribs. All the breath went out of Hefty's lungs and he hit his knees, gasping.

"I'm not your boyfriend, baby," Jim spat, slipping his pool winnings out of the man's pocket and disappearing neatly into the pulsing crowd. He pushed through them all to the door, nodding at the doorman as he left. They wouldn't be seeing him again for a while, at least not until the bruises on his face cleared up, allowing him to once again blend with the crowd.

Inhaling the clean Iowa night air, Jim started the long walk home, wincing as the adrenaline left his bloodstream and his body began to protest being battered. He really needed to learn how to pick his battles.

Then again, they needed to learn that he wasn't going to be anyone's sex toy.


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