"Hey Jim, me and Pasha were wondering if you wanted to go for a drink with us after work tonight?" Sulu popped his head through Jim's door. He'd been at the school for two weeks and managed to establish himself pretty well. As September dawned and the leaves started to change, he realised that he was going to be bogged down dealing with reams of paperwork. It was fairly obvious to him that the school needed to update not only its behavioural policies, but also swap to paperless communication.

But today. Today was Friday and that was almost a godsend to Jim. A whole two days until he needed to be in work again. Not that he wasn't enjoying his job, just that anyone who worked with kids knew, you needed time off almost as desperately as you needed to be in the classroom.

"Sure thing. I'll need to travel home to drop my car off though," he said, secretly pleased that Sulu had thought to invite him out. Sulu smiled.

"No problem. Drop your car off and head to Rí Rá. Happy hour ends at seven but we're usually there until closing. The place serves food too if you want it," Sulu said. Jim nodded, knowing he was going to have to get a taxi to the place. He hadn't heard of it, but he was willing to try anything just to stop staring at the blank walls of his apartment.

"Alright then. I'll see you down there in about an hour," he said, throwing down his pen and turning off his computer with a flourish. Sulu laughed a little.

"I hope you can hold your booze, Mr Kirk. Friday nights always end up being a little rough on the weak."

Sulu hadn't been kidding.

Jim had arrived just after five and everyone was already there, though judging by their full drinks they'd only just beat him to the place. He waved and made his way to the bar, surprised it was already so busy so early. It was an Irish bar, the inside done up in a way that seemed like someone had perhaps seen the inside of a true Irish pub although with the football being broadcast on all the screens, Jim couldn't say it felt one hundred percent authentic.

He ordered himself Guinness – when in Rome… - and headed back to the table. Uhura scooted over in the booth to give him space to sit and he sat down, loosening his tie and shoving his wallet back in his pocket. Scotty and Uhura were both there, drinking what looked to be whiskey on the rocks. Sulu and Chekov were both on beers, though Jim couldn't have said if it was European or American.

"No Spock or McCoy?" Jim asked. Uhura rolled her eyes.

"Oh they never come out. Spock doesn't drink and McCoy doesn't socialise much," she explained. She'd changed before coming out, wearing black jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. She looked amazing and Jim felt a little bad that he hadn't thought to at least change his shirt. He didn't feel too bad though, when he took in that all the other men were also still in their work clothes, their jackets thrown over the back of the booth and their shirt sleeves rolled up.

"I am wery glad you are not a sourpuss like those two Jim!" Chekov said, taking a deep swig of his beer. "It is always interesting to hawe new drinking buddies!"

Jim just raised his pint in toast to Chekov and took a sip of it. He made sure to wipe off his foam moustache before he placed the pint back down. Beside him Uhura started talking about one of her classes, sharing a story about one of the students and Jim let the tide of the conversation ride over him.

"What about you Jim? You must have interesting stories?" Uhura asked. Jim blinked, surprised at being addressed and took a long swig of his drink before answering.

"I don't know. I mean sure, I've seen some stuff but it's never really interesting to hear stories about other people's travels," he said with a shrug. Scotty leaned forward, the ice in his class clinking as he caught it with his hand.

"I heard from McCoy that you drove your dad's car off a cliff when you were younger," he prompted. Jim frowned, wondering when McCoy and Scotty had been gossiping about him.

"Yeah, well, it's not something I'd ever recommend doing," he replied. Scotty leaned back in his seat with something akin to horror.

"It was a Stingray, Jim. You just don't do that to a Stingray," he said, his tone horrified. Chekov was looking between the two of them and Sulu was wisely finishing off his beer.

"Boys, boys, let's not get caught up in car stories, please," Uhura said, finishing her drink and sliding the glass across the table. "Jim come and help me with the next round."

Jim gratefully got to his feet and followed her to the bar. She rattled off the order to the bar maid before she paused, looking at him.

"What are you drinking? Another Guinness?" she asked. Jim shook his head.

"Nah. Gives me nosebleeds if I drink too much. You drinking whiskey? I'll have that," he said with a shrug. Uhura smiled and ordered another glass of Jameson's on the rocks. Jim watched her profile carefully.

"You know, I've been wondering. There's a lot of single male teachers on the staff list… why aren't you seeing someone?" he asked. Uhura's eyebrows rose to her hairline but she didn't scowl, instead smiling a little indulgently.

"I'm not interested, if that's what you're getting at, Kirk," she said. Jim laughed, thanking the barmaid quietly as she set down the three whiskeys in front of them.

"That's not what I was getting at, actually. Although you're beautiful, and I certainly wouldn't say no, something tells me you'd eat me alive," he replied, taking a sip of the whiskey and letting it warm as it went down.

"You're right. I would. Oh and Kirk, you're paying," she said, before taking the two beers back to the table and leaving Jim to settle the round and carry back three glasses of whiskey. She hadn't even given him his answer.

Jim was drunk. Wasted drunk. The kind of drunk he hadn't been since college. The room was spinning. He was pretty sure he needed to sit down. No wait, he was sat down. Where was he again?

Sulu was wearing his tie as a bandana. That was funny. Jim couldn't remember why though. Was it a stereotype thing? Would it be racist to tell Sulu it was funny? Jim slurred it to him and Sulu kissed his forehead and told him he loved him.

Uhura had left hours ago, citing the need for an early night as she had to be up in the morning, and left him, Sulu, Scotty and Chekov to drink more and more until Jim had to grip the bar to remain standing.

"Zis is my song! Yes! Get up we are dancing!" Chekov shouted suddenly and Jim felt himself being pulled onto his feet. It should have been awkward. Four grown men all dancing together in an Irish pub no less, but Jim couldn't care. He wasn't really dancing anyway, more shuffling from side to side until he bumped into either Scotty or Sulu and then moving the other way again.

This had really been a great idea.

That had really been a bad idea.

Jim held onto the toilet bowl for dear life as he relived the night in reverse. Who had suggested cocktails? Who had started fed him pizza? Who had convinced him that mixing whiskey and vodka was a great plan?

He wretched pitifully, shaking from head to toe, his head pounding.

He was never going to drink again.

Ever.

Monday morning came too fast. Jim was used to hangovers, but not ones that lasted more than one day. Saturday had been a complete write-off, and Sunday hadn't fared much better. He came in on Monday morning feeling like he hadn't had the weekend off at all. He sat behind his desk, staring at the pile of work he'd abandoned on Friday and put his head in his hands.

"Good morning, Captain!"

He looked up to see Sulu there, a bag of groceries in his hand that proved that it was his turn for Jim's impromptu breakfast club. Jim gave him a warm smile, wondering why he was suddenly being called 'Captain' all of a sudden.

"Oh there's the look of confusion that says you don't quite remember all of Friday night," Sulu said, laughing as he threw Jim a bottle of water from the back and a croissant. Jim gratefully opened the water. He was pretty sure he'd never rehydrate again.

"You're right. I don't even remember leaving Rí Rá," he admitted. Sulu's grin turned a little evil.

"Well, we hit up a few bars afterwards. We were a whirlwind. And at one point, you tried to down a fifth of Captain Morgan's rum. Which would have been impressive if you hadn't immediately gone to the bathroom to be sick," Sulu said cheerfully. Jim stared at him. A fifth of a bottle… No. Way.

"You're lying," he decided, more for his dignity than anything else. Sulu just laughed.

"Nope. You were amazing. I've never seen someone so drunk and yet still standing and able to form words," he said. "But man, you're crazy when you get drunk. I still can't believe you managed to get that girl's number!"

Jim frowned. He'd got a girl's number? He pulled out his wallet, digging through it until he found a business card with the name 'Gaila' written on it, and a number. He stared at it for a moment wondering who the fuck Gaila was.

"Oh Sulu! Are you debriefing ze Captain? It was a wery fun night!" Chekov appeared at the door, walking in and helping himself to pastries out of the grocery bag. Jim was just staring at the card in his hands dumbly.

"I should probably call her…" he said. "Was she hot?"

"Smokin'," Sulu confirmed, grinning still. Jim shook his head, a grin forming across his face in spite of himself.

"Tell me that you don't do that every Friday night? I think I'd give myself liver damage," he said. Sulu chuckled and shook his head.

"No, usually it's a lot more tame than that. A few drinks then home. I guess you just needed to let go a bit," he said, before glancing at Chekov. "I guess we all did."

Jim talked with them for a few minutes after that, laughing about some of the things that they'd done while drunk, reminding each other of their behaviour. At one point Sulu flat out denied that he'd been dancing to Kylie Minogue, until Chekov pulled out video evidence and they all laughed at the uncoordinated boogie-shuffle that Sulu had been trying to perform.

"Whoa. What're you all doing in here?"

Jim looked up to see McCoy stood there. Chekov was laughing hard still, mimicking the best parts of Sulu's dancing. Jim smiled and gestured for McCoy to come look but Sulu snatched the phone out of Chekov's hands.

"No way! You don't come on the night out, you don't get to see the aftermath. I'm invoking nomikai rules! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!" he declared, shutting off the phone and the screechy tones of Lucky disappearing. McCoy just blinked.

"Right so you guys went out on Friday night again, huh?" he asked and shook his head. He turned to Jim. "And you're a fool if you let them convince you it was a good idea. They end up the talk of the staffroom every single damn time for doing something either illegal or stupid."

Jim felt like a high schooler getting told off for underage drinking and he couldn't help but grin at McCoy.

"Maybe you should come along next time, McCoy? Might do you good to do something that could be considered illegal in some states?" he suggested and then wondered if the alcohol had addled his brain because that had definitely been a come on and Chekov and Sulu were looking at him like he'd grown an extra head. Hell, McCoy was looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"When I want to end up getting reacquainted with my toilet bowl, I'll let you know," McCoy replied after a silence that stretched just a little bit too long. Jim tried not to grimace. "I'm actually here to ask if I can steal some glue sticks. Some little shit has eaten mine or something…"

Jim gestured for McCoy to help himself and the other did before leaving. Chekov and Sulu were still staring at him with their mouths open.

"Dude-"

"Did you just-"

"No," Jim said firmly. "No I did not."

Jim spent the rest of the week dodging comments from his colleagues. Uhura wanted to talk about the night out, Chekov and Sulu kept making comments about Jim's illegal activities and Scotty refused to call Jim anything other than 'Captain'. By the time Thursday rolled around, even Spock, who Jim would have thought was above such things, was calling him 'Captain' with a curl to the corner of his mouth.

Added to his frustration was the fact that every day, like clockwork, McCoy dashed out of the fire escape and down the stairs without a backwards glance. While Jim and the rest of his colleagues were stuck marking books and doing their work (and okay, being subjected to good-natured teasing about their ability to hold drink), McCoy was already on his way home.

And just what was so amazing that McCoy needed to escape just as the bell went?

Jim watched the fire escape door open and resolved, in that moment, to see for himself.

He grabbed his car keys and raced down the corridor, dodging through the fire escape door and hoping the old fire escape didn't collapse under his rapid footfalls. He saw McCoy's car leaving the car park just as he got to his Chevrolet and slid inside, starting her up and reversing as fast as was safely possible out of the parking lot.

Following McCoy was stupid, but Jim guessed he wasn't being rational. He was curious. Did McCoy have a second job? That could explain a lot. Did he have to be home to let out an animal or to go to a class? Did he have something that was oh so important that he couldn't spend a moment longer in school when everyone else was working? What was it?

What made McCoy tick?

Jim followed him further and further out of Atlanta until he was in the leafy suburbs that housed some of the best schools in the area. He drove past a high school that had tried to headhunt him when he'd first come back to America, an international school that had some of the highest grades in the state. It's pupils were leaving the gates, dressed in blazers and looking like they'd stepped out of the 1950s.

Finally McCoy pulled into a side street and Jim curious followed him. There was an elementary school there. McCoy's car pulled up and Jim pulled up a safe distance behind so he wouldn't be seen. McCoy didn't exit his car, none of the children who were walking passed seemed to so much as glance at him. After five or so minutes, McCoy pulled away and drove off again.

Jim scowled, staring at his steering wheel and wondering what the hell had just happened.

"So… Jim… Captain Jim… Jim the Captain…" Sulu walked around the back of Jim's classroom on Friday morning like the devil himself. He had a smirk on his face and was running his hand over one of the desks.

"No," Jim said firmly.

Yet at five, at Rí Rá, there he was, a pint of Guinness in front of him and Scotty laughing into his shoulder.

It felt good. It felt strange.

It felt like making friends.