That One Time

That one time Len went drinking with Jim at Academy. A reference to Chapter Six of Nelaya. "You know how I get once I'm drunk." He did know. He had kicked Jim full in the face the first time they had gone drinking together on the Academy and the kid had tried to lay one on him.

Buddy shenanigans.

Jim was, Len suspected, completely and totally wasted. He sipped moderately from his own still half full glass, keeping a watchful eye on his younger friend from across the bar. They had come together with a group of acquaintances, most of them not close enough to be friends but more than just faces in a crowd. Finals week had just ended, after all, and there was a celebratory mood buzzing in the air.

Naturally, Jim had swiftly collected an armful of local girls, all perched around him almost predatorily now at the bar. Len winced as Jim clumsily drained another shot, laughing and spluttering as the drink went all over his face instead. One of the girls shrieked with amusement, eagerly shoving another full tray of glass tubes forward.

Even from the relatively safe corner Len had crammed himself in, he could see the loopy grin on Jim's face and the bleary way he was leering at the redhead on his lap that practically screamed of trouble. It was time for an intervention, he decided, putting his glass down firmly and excusing himself from the knot of people at his table.

As he picked his way across the crowded room towards Jim, the younger man made a fumbling grab for a handful of ass, smirking as he received a squeal and a halfhearted slap. Len felt a vein throbbing in his temple. Really, this was getting embarrassing to watch.

He reached out and seized Jim's shoulder, giving him a hard shake. "Jim, we need to go."

"Aww," the girl who had laughed at Jim pouted drunkenly. "Party's just started."

"Party's over," Len said shortly, giving Jim another shake. "Come on, let's go, kid."

"Not m'mom, Bones," Jim slurred, trying to pull away feebly. "C'mon, sit down...have a drink." Len impatiently seized the glass before Jim could take it, tossing back the contents and all but slamming the empty glass back on the counter. The alcohol burned in his stomach, giving him the extra push to haul to Jim to his feet by his arm.

"We're leaving," he said firmly, ignoring the shrill complaints of the redhead he had upset from Jim's lap.

Jim craned his head back to give him an annoyed glare, his bloodshot eyes squinting blurrily. "What the hell, Bones. I'm good. Better than good. Super duper good."

"You're drunk."

"Heh, I know. I knowwww." Jim swayed and would have fallen flat on his dopey face if Len hadn't hastily thrown an arm around him, hauling Jim's arm across his own shoulders.

"Come on, you big lug," he grunted, towing his way through the crowd. Jim burped cheerfully in his ear and Lin resisted the urge to dump him on the floor. He liked the kid, he really did, but there were times when he was truly an idiot.

They finally made it to the door, Len shouldering it open and gasping in relief at the rush of cool night air. It was December, the first feeble snowflakes fluttering despondently with the sharp wind. Jim was leaning more and more on him with every step, fading into drunken unconsciousness with every faint giggle and snort.

Len hailed a cab and, feeling more and more grouchy with every passing second, heaved himself in after Jim. He had severe doubts about Jim's ability to get to his apartment on his own in this state. He could hear the call tomorrow morning already.

"Booonnes."

"Damn it, Jim, not again."

"I'm sorry, man. Come on, I'm dying here."

"You'll be fine. Sleep it off."

"Boooooooneeeeeeeesss."

"I'm hanging up."

"Come on-"

"No."

"Please?"

"..."

"Please, Bones. Just this once."

"For God's sake, where are you right now, anyway?"

Then he would grab his hangover kit and haul ass to whichever bed Jim had woken up in that particular morning,

Well, not tonight, damn it. Tonight he was going to see Jim in his own bed by midnight, or so help him, he'd force a liver transplant on the man.

Jim's head lolled onto his shoulder with a heavy thump. Len suppressed a long suffering sigh. He was getting dangerously used to this kind of behavior. He shouldn't tolerate it, really. But damn it if Jim's baby blues didn't get him every time. The kid was practically family now, like a particularly obnoxious little brother.

The cab stopped at Jim's apartment and Len wrestled Jim out, cursing as the man flopped limply and whined and generally made the process a hellish experience. At least he hadn't thrown up in the cab.

It was with a great deal of swearing, threats, and strenuous activity that Len finally dragged Jim to his door. It was another five minutes of exasperated negotiating before Jim reluctantly dug out his keys. He promptly dropped them on the floor and hit his head on the door trying to pick them up.

Len turned his eyes skyward in despair before unlocking Jim's door and manhandling him through. It was dark in the apartment and Len promptly ran into something, a startled yelp escaping as he lost his balance and toppled over. Jim fell on top of him, crushing him down with his stupid, drooling dead weight.

"That's it," Len snarled, twisting around with effort and glaring down at Jim, tangled up in Len's legs and awkwardly sprawling over his body. "I've had it with you," Len grunted, shoving at Jim vehemently. "You ungrateful, moronic, fat son of a-"

Then Jim's hand shot up and caught Len's wrist. Len pulled back out of reflex, then blinked when he found Jim's face suddenly much too close to his, staring straight at him.

"Whoa there, Jimmy," he laughed nervously, not liking the sudden glint in Jim's eyes.

Jim moved closer, and with a horrible sinking feeling, Len realized what he was trying to do. He strained backwards, eyes fixed hawkishly on Jim's lips.

"Don't you dare," he warned.

Jim dutifully ignored him, moving closer and closer until-

Len snapped. He'd had what seemed like the longest night in his life, full of drinks and cold winter streets and irritable cab drivers and it was all Jim's fault. This was the last straw.

"Hell no!" he all but bellowed, raising his foot and planting it in Jim's face with a satisfying crunch.

Jim lurched back with a cry, blinking rapidly in confusion. His nose was bleeding. "Bones?" he asked, sounding as muddled as could be expected under the circumstances.

Len glared. "You listen here, Jim Kirk. I'm never drinking with you again, you hear? Do you have any idea how much I've gone through-oh my God, don't-"

Jim turned and threw up all over the floor.

They never did go out drinking together again after that.

Next chapter is M-rated, so feel free to give it a pass if not your cup of tea. This will be the only M-rated chapter.