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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
Words:
1,293
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
11
Hits:
1,307

Love Be A Lady Tonight

Summary:

What was Jim Kirk thinking before hitting the bar?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Title:  Love Be A Lady Tonight
Author:  Sue
Rating:  FRT-17
Pairing:  Kirk/Uhura
Archive:  Yes
Warning:  Already selected.
Disclaimer:  Star Trek 2009 is the Property of its creators; certainly I'm not one.  I'm not profiting from this fanfiction.

 

Love Be A Lady Tonight...
 
 
 
Jim's sitting cross-legged in the middle of nowhere - well, Iowa, to be exact, smack dab in it.  If there's a nowhere, it's here, and here isn't where he wants to be, but where to go isn't exactly clear cut, not just yet.  The night's still young, and so is he; there's plenty of time.  Beyond him lies the gaping expanse of the unnatural canyon.  Sketchily, a hazy memory materializes of how it got to be here, squarely in the middle of the once relatively unmarred landscape.  The man-made gorge is the resultant debacle of one of the early warp drive experiments which had gone horribly wrong.  Many lives had been lain waste, blown apart and consumed by the superheated fireballs that terrible day.  The stench of death had hung over the area like a shroud incapable of being put aside, many years after the disaster.

He'd nearly lost his life at a tender age.  That weird day he had decided to swipe his step-dad's classic Corvette Stingray convertible.  His having been chased by that dolt of a robotrooper could have easily resulted in his crashing down right along with the prized possession his stepdad tanned his hide for destroying.  The belt buckle beating had left scars still visible on him.
 
But that was a long time ago...
 
Where should he go?  What should he do?  The sun is setting.  He turns his head seeing the looming shadows of the shipyards all around. He's been sitting here for the better part of the day, weighing the pros and cons of just taking that first decisive step.  Now, with night darkly falling,  it's windy and chilly and he's still mostly undecided while drinking from the bottle he's bought.  It's the cheapest, sickest stuff he could find; a part of him wants to find the courage to just make this step and end his misery once and for all, but his not being suicidal holds him back.

Draining, the bottle, he fitfully realizes a cloying truth; alcoholics are cowards and he's no exception.  Living sucks, but he doesn't want to die, at least not just yet.  He pulls himself together, his legs shaking when he gets up, almost tumbling towards the canyon by sheer lack of balance. The bottle slips from his hand and he glares after it into the pitch-black hole but he doesn't follow.

A feckless coward, he thinks, filling his lungs with the crisp night air, wishing there was something better to do than drinking himself numb.  He wraps his mind around what he needs, someone being nice to him, a beautiful someone to love him up and down real slow, taking her time with his body, mind...heart and soul.
 
 
.oOo.
 
 
The Riverside Shipyard Bar, yeah, he likes it here and tonight he's liking it even more having spotted *her*; the flamboyant dark-skinned beauty at the bar is the embodiment of every fantasy he's ever had.  Here she is in the gorgeous flesh, every curvaceous inch of her, taking his breath away, wreaking havoc with his restive libido.
 
"That's a lot of drinks for one woman."  One dazzler of a woman, he credits, smirking at full tilt.  'Want you...want you bad.'
 
"And a shot of Jack straight up."
 
Rushing to the mark, he insists, "Make that two, shots on me."
 
She makes clear to the bartender, "Her shots on her."  Like a hair-trigger, she asserts for his benefit, "Thanks, but no thanks."
 
Upping his ribald smirk, he says, "Do you at least want to know my name before you completely reject me?"
 
The definitive look on her pert face saves time.  "I'm fine without it."
 
Never have truer words been spoken; Jim vows he'll know just how fine she is before this night is through.  His mission:  Getting her alone, having her all to himself, setting it straight that he wants more than just some meaningless roll in the hay.  "You are fine without it."  He presses, "It's Jim, Jim Kirk."  Sounding as though he's the discoverer of Penicillin, he mows on, "If you don't tell me your name, I'm gonna have to make one up."
 
She rolls her eyes, but concedes, "It's Uhura."
 
"Uhura--no way," Jim erupts.  "That's the name I was gonna make up for ya.  Uhura what?"  'Uhura' tolls in his brain...and inexplicably, the filk...'Uhura, I've just met a girl named Uhura.  And suddenly that name will never be the same to me...'  What will it be like kissing her, he speculates, tingling, already living it.
 
"Just Uhura," she says adroitly.
 
Slyly, "They don't have last names on your world?"  Exoticness such as hers is certainly not from here.  That thought is his cue to sidle up to her, as close as he can get away with.  "So, you're a Cadet.  You're studying...what's your focus?"  Hopefully, it will soon be me, Jim burns, with presumption.
 
Pride her badge, she spikes, "Xenolinguistics."  Sounding confident, Uhura presumes, "You have no idea what that means."
 
Chuckling deep within his throat, which feels on fire, Jim nails, "The study of alien languages, morphology...phonology...syntax."  What he says next drips evocative innuendo.  "It means you've got a talented tongue."  Let's let yours and mine tussle.  Jim's heart beats faster.
 
Not missing what he has in mind, Uhura mockingly replies, "I'm impressed."  Then, she decides to have a little fun too.  "For a moment there, I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals."
 
'Funny you bring it up, baby,' rips his concentration, and as suggestive as he can make it, Jim corrects, "Well, not only..."  It's now or never, he thinks, deciding it's most definitely now since he's made her laugh, and getting a luscious woman laughing is half the battle.
 
Or, not...
 
"This townie isn't bothering you, right?"
 
Mentally cursing, Jim glowers.
 
Uhura mostly giggles through a guffaw with her eyes shifting skyward.   "Oh, beyond belief.  But it's nothing I can't handle."
 
Pressing up against her, wanting Uhura to feel just how great she'd be at it, Jim promises, "You could handle me, if that's an invitation."  He's about to add, 'It is one, isn't it?' when--
 
"Hey!  You better mind your manners!"
 
Curtly, Jim badgers, "Oh, relax, Cupcake, it was a joke."  'The bigger they are, the dumber,' sparks the fire in Jim's eyes, and just when he might have had Uhura right where he wants her.
 
"Hey, farm boy, maybe you can't count, but there are four of us and one of you!"
 
Antagonistically, Jim spouts, "Well, get some more guys and then it'll be an even fight."
 
And a fight there is, decidedly not in J. T. Kirk's favor.  He's  getting his ass handed to him, and not on a silver platter.  The savagery rages on over Uhura's frantic plea.  "Stop it!  Stop it--all of you!"  The imagined protector of her honor bashes Jim's head again.  "He's had enough!"  All the disdain and aversion for Jim is replaced by pure unadulterated empathy perhaps mingled with a touch of quixotic compassion.
 
Pike's deafening whistle ends the gang-assault.  "Outside--all of you!  Now!"  He turns his attention to the beaten, busted-up local.  "You all right son?"
 
And as Jim wrestles with pushing out the words, "You can whistle really loud, you know that?" he catches Uhura's eyes, relishing the worry he sees in them, the regard for him, and that's half the battle too.  'Another time, another place, baby.  You don't lose me this easily."
 
 
End

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Sue2.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.