Follow Me Down [Kirk/McCoy 1/?]
Title: Follow Me Down
Author:
bombsreverse
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy AOS
Rating: PG-13 (for now, will probably hit NC-17)
Summary: Modern day rugby AU – So far it’s been fast, dirty, furious, by the time half rolls around Jim’s sporting a black eye and their captain has a split eyebrow that’s been hastily taped back together. Jim’s having the time of his life.
a/n: So this started out as what it is now, then morphed into an RPF 5+1 with Karl as an All Blacks player then came back to this. Unbeta-ed so any and all mistakes are my own, con-crit is always welcomed. Probably 2 or 3 more parts to come.
Quick and Dirty Rugby Primer: Two teams of fifteen players play against one another to score tries (when the ball is touched down over the try line) which are worth five points. If a try is made the team can attempt a conversion which is done by kicking the ball through the posts for two points. The other way to score is a drop kick, or penalty kick through the posts during normal play which are both worth three points.
Half the team are forwards and are generally the larger, stronger players responsible for stealing the ball and they make up the positions in the scrum. The other half are backs, generally smaller and faster they tend to make a lot of the running plays. The fly half connects the two lines. The props bind onto the hooker in the front row of the scrum, giving them the opportunity to hook the ball with their feet and push it out of the scrum and into their team’s possession.
------
Jim walks up to the side of the field at Starfleet Academy with his hands shoved in his pockets, grinning at the rhythmic thumps of the players hitting the practice dummies. He manages to watch the practice unnoticed for a few more minutes before a man with steel grey hair catches his eyes and smirks, lifting the whistle to his lips and sounding it twice.
“Gentlemen! I want to introduce you to our new fly half! This is Jim Kirk.” Pike lifts a hand in Jim’s direction and as one the other nineteen players turn to stare at him. He lifts his hand and etches a small salute; smirk still firmly in place as he puts up with the assessing stares being levelled at him. “Alright boys, back to practice. Sprints, standing starts then flat starts, get to it.” He turns his gaze back to Jim and grins, “You too Kirk, I hope you came ready to play.” Jim drops his bag and tugs off his sweater.
“I was born ready.” Pike’s grin morphs into a smirk to match Jim’s and he nods as Jim runs out to join the other players.
------
The first game that Jim gets to play is three games into the season against the University of Mississippi and they’re... really not what he was expecting going into it. He’s done his research and their scores up to this year have been average at best, but they’ve got a new captain that seems to have made all the difference in the world, a fourth year student that’s been playing first line prop the whole time he’s been at the school.
So far it’s been fast, dirty, furious, and by the time half rolls around Jim’s sporting a black eye and their captain, Matthews, has a split eyebrow that’s been hastily taped back together. Everyone is covered head to foot in grass stains and mud.
Jim’s having the time of his life.
“We’re pretty even on possession and the scrums have been okay...” Matthews huffs and scrubs a hand across his chin. “Look, our line outs have been better than theirs and their fly half keeps dropping the ball three steps out, we just need to make sure that we’re right there when he does. And their scrum half is good but they don’t protect him nearly enough so if we can get in there somehow we’ve got the game.”
Everyone’s nodding and Jim grins. “Great pep talk, Cupcake!”
Matthews sneers back and responds with, “Anytime, Sunshine!” before wrapping a hand around Sulu’s arm and tugging him over to the team medic to have a his shoulder looked at before the play starts again. Jim breathes deeply and bends forward to press his palms flat against the ground when another player walks up beside him. He turns his head to take in the inverted figure of Spock, one of the locks.
“Why do you insist on tormenting Matthews like that?” Spock’s got his hands linked behind his back, pushing them upwards to stretch out his shoulders.
“Because I’m the flyhalf so I can get away with it, and it’s kind of like a game we play...” Jim grins when one of Spock’s eyebrows makes a bid for his hairline and then just claps him on the shoulder when the whistle blows, making his way back out to the field. He maps out where he wants the kick to go as the ref hands him the ball, by the time the whistle sounds the start of play Jim’s ready. He feels the ball connect right in the way he wants and grins as he runs to follow it.
The other team’s hook grabs the ball and makes it a few yards before he’s passing it to their captain and Jim’s right there, he manages to wrap an arm around the other player’s stomach and launches all his weight, he can feel the other player’s momentum stop and then they go down when Chekov adds his weight to Jim’s. The ruck forms around them and Jim’s buried under the weight of his teammates and the other team’s players, he can feel his knee connect with something hard just as the ref’s whistle blows to stop the play.
The other players climb off him slowly and he’s suddenly face to face with the Ole Miss captain, his hazel eyes wild and slightly unfocused as blood drips down his temple. “You okay?” Jim’s asking the question before he can think better of it and the other man focuses his gaze on Jim.
“I may throw up on ya.” Jim starts and then blinks as the man lifts himself to his knees and then his feet. He’s still sitting slightly dumbfounded when the ref wiggles the ball in front of his face, trying to hand it to him for the penalty kick at the goal. Jim gives his head a shake and stands, taking the ball in hand.
He’s still not really thinking clearly when his foot connects with the ball but the kick is good and he breathes out a sigh of relief. Matthews claps a hand down on his shoulder and gives him a look, Jim just shakes his head and focuses on the game again.
------
Jim tips the beer back and pulls deep, grinning around the mouth of the bottle when he catches Chekov smirking at Riley as they both toss back a sixth shot of vodka and Riley sways on his feet. They have the night in Oxford near the campus so they decide to celebrate their win in the bottom of shot glasses and beer bottles. They came out 23-21 in the end so it’s not a big win by a long shot but it was a fun game to play.
When the captain from the Ole Miss team drops into the seat beside him and orders a glass of whiskey he lifts his beer bottle in a salute. The other man lifts one of his eyebrows in a movement that is eerily similar to Spock and tips his glass in return as it makes it into his hand. They drink beside each other quietly for a few minutes before Jim thunks down an empty bottle and buys another round for both of them as he turns to face the prop.
“Thanks for not throwing up on me.” Jim takes in the other man’s features, the hazel eyes that are leaning more towards green right now. Full lips that would look at home in more feminine features but for some reason work really well with the three day old scruff and the bruise blooming across his jaw line. “Concussion?”
The man grunts in response and eyes Jim over his glass as he leans back in the chair.
“Should you be drinking with a concussion?” The man raises his eyebrow again as he brings the glass to his lips and Jim raises his hands in supplication. He just watches the other man for a few minutes before he juts out his hand, “Jim Kirk, fly half.” The other man eyes it for about five seconds longer than Jim is comfortable with before taking it in his own.
“McCoy, Leonard McCoy, prop.” They end up talking rugby for the next three rounds, talking about how they got into it. Jim had a teacher in high school that figured, correctly, that there were some anger issues so she told him to go out for rugby, it had helped her. Leonard’s friends had dared the future doctor to go out and do some harm instead of healing, lo and behold he loved the sport from the start.
“I’ll be back, gotta hit the head.” Jim levers himself off the stool and walks towards the bathroom, halfway there his shoulder bumps into another patron’s and before the apology is even out of his mouth a fist is smashing into his face with a crack like a green twig snapping. He reacts automatically and lodges his fist in the other guy’s stomach.
Then his team is in the fray and Jim’s started an honest to god bar brawl. He’s ducking another punch when a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him hard towards the back of the bar. He clears the fight and sees Leonard is the one that’s pulling him towards a door at the back. They stumble out into the alleyway and Jim really starts to feel the throb of his nose, the tickle of blood dripping off his chin.
“Umb...” He lifts his hand up to his face and prods gently at the sides of his nose, wincing when the pain lances through his entire head. Leonard turns around and his eyes widen slightly before he grabs Jim’s chin and tilts it towards the light coming down from the streetlights. His breath puffs out and Jim smells mint and whiskey, making his knees a little weak despite the pain that’s radiating through his entire upper body now as brand new fight wounds mix with the bruises and strained muscles from the game.
“You need to get your nose set or it’s gonna fuck up the whole pretty boy thing you’ve got goin’.” Leonard lets go of Jim and then jerks his chin towards the end of the alley. “Com'on.”
Jim shrugs and follows him towards the apartment complex that’s just down the street, climbing up two floors and then Leonard’s slotting a key into the deadbolt and pushing open the door.
“Stay there for a second; I don’t want you bleedin’ all over my floor.” Jim nods and waits where he’s told, Leonard comes back with a dish towel and tosses it to Jim before motioning him towards a threadbare couch. Jim toes off his shoes and then goes to sit down, unabashedly staring at the pictures and the text books scattered around the room. He can hear clanging in the kitchen and then the sound of the fridge door opening and closing, he tracks Leonard’s path around his kitchen as more cupboards open and close and then the water running.
When Leonard comes back into the room he has a bowl of water and package of gauze. He pulls the coffee table close enough that he can sit on it and sets the bowl down beside him before reaching out and gently pulling the towel away from Jim’s face. He grabs a piece of the gauze and dips it in the water before swabbing across Jim’s nose, making him inhale sharply at the sudden stab of pain.
“Sorry.” Jim shrugs and Leonard continues to wash away the blood.
“So, how bad is it doc?” Jim’s eyes are crossing as he tries to look at the damage and Leonard huffs out a breath of laughter.
“Well it’s definitely broken, but I can set it for you and it should heal pretty straight.” Jim’s suddenly aware of how close Leonard’s face is to his own. The smell of whiskey is still on his breath and Jim wonders idly if his mouth still tastes like it, his eyes flicker down to his lips and then back to Leonard’s eyes. The other man blinks and then clears his throat before pulling away and Jim suddenly feels bereft. He clears his throat again and then mumbles something indistinct about spoons before he stands up and goes back into the kitchen. Jim leans back on the couch and lets his head fall back, breathing shaky as he tries to calm his nerves.
When Leonard comes back he’s got two metal spoons clutched in his hands. He sits back down on the coffee table and leans forward, setting the bottoms of the frozen spoons on either side of Jim’s nose.
“This is gonna hurt.” Jim’s just about to ask what the fuck he’s gonna do with spoons when Leonard presses the utensils hard against both sides, forcing the bone back into place with a sickening crunch and Jim howls as the pain lances right through his skull.
“Don’t be such an infant.” Leonard leans forward and grabs his chin between his fingers again, inspecting his work. “It looks like the bone is set pretty straight.”
There’s a crackle of something between them when Leonard’s eyes shift back to Jim’s again and he squirms under Leonard's fingers. The other man jerks away like he's been burned and clears his throat. Suddenly awkward Jim blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.
"Thanks Bones." Hazel eyes widen comically and his eyebrow climbs up his forehead again.
"Bones?" He sounds incredulous and Jim laughs.
"Well, you fixed mine, so..." Jim trails off and shrugs, laughing again when Bones starts muttering about damn fool kids.
Next Part
Author:
bombsreverse Pairing: Kirk/McCoy AOS
Rating: PG-13 (for now, will probably hit NC-17)
Summary: Modern day rugby AU – So far it’s been fast, dirty, furious, by the time half rolls around Jim’s sporting a black eye and their captain has a split eyebrow that’s been hastily taped back together. Jim’s having the time of his life.
a/n: So this started out as what it is now, then morphed into an RPF 5+1 with Karl as an All Blacks player then came back to this. Unbeta-ed so any and all mistakes are my own, con-crit is always welcomed. Probably 2 or 3 more parts to come.
Quick and Dirty Rugby Primer: Two teams of fifteen players play against one another to score tries (when the ball is touched down over the try line) which are worth five points. If a try is made the team can attempt a conversion which is done by kicking the ball through the posts for two points. The other way to score is a drop kick, or penalty kick through the posts during normal play which are both worth three points.
Half the team are forwards and are generally the larger, stronger players responsible for stealing the ball and they make up the positions in the scrum. The other half are backs, generally smaller and faster they tend to make a lot of the running plays. The fly half connects the two lines. The props bind onto the hooker in the front row of the scrum, giving them the opportunity to hook the ball with their feet and push it out of the scrum and into their team’s possession.
------
Jim walks up to the side of the field at Starfleet Academy with his hands shoved in his pockets, grinning at the rhythmic thumps of the players hitting the practice dummies. He manages to watch the practice unnoticed for a few more minutes before a man with steel grey hair catches his eyes and smirks, lifting the whistle to his lips and sounding it twice.
“Gentlemen! I want to introduce you to our new fly half! This is Jim Kirk.” Pike lifts a hand in Jim’s direction and as one the other nineteen players turn to stare at him. He lifts his hand and etches a small salute; smirk still firmly in place as he puts up with the assessing stares being levelled at him. “Alright boys, back to practice. Sprints, standing starts then flat starts, get to it.” He turns his gaze back to Jim and grins, “You too Kirk, I hope you came ready to play.” Jim drops his bag and tugs off his sweater.
“I was born ready.” Pike’s grin morphs into a smirk to match Jim’s and he nods as Jim runs out to join the other players.
------
The first game that Jim gets to play is three games into the season against the University of Mississippi and they’re... really not what he was expecting going into it. He’s done his research and their scores up to this year have been average at best, but they’ve got a new captain that seems to have made all the difference in the world, a fourth year student that’s been playing first line prop the whole time he’s been at the school.
So far it’s been fast, dirty, furious, and by the time half rolls around Jim’s sporting a black eye and their captain, Matthews, has a split eyebrow that’s been hastily taped back together. Everyone is covered head to foot in grass stains and mud.
Jim’s having the time of his life.
“We’re pretty even on possession and the scrums have been okay...” Matthews huffs and scrubs a hand across his chin. “Look, our line outs have been better than theirs and their fly half keeps dropping the ball three steps out, we just need to make sure that we’re right there when he does. And their scrum half is good but they don’t protect him nearly enough so if we can get in there somehow we’ve got the game.”
Everyone’s nodding and Jim grins. “Great pep talk, Cupcake!”
Matthews sneers back and responds with, “Anytime, Sunshine!” before wrapping a hand around Sulu’s arm and tugging him over to the team medic to have a his shoulder looked at before the play starts again. Jim breathes deeply and bends forward to press his palms flat against the ground when another player walks up beside him. He turns his head to take in the inverted figure of Spock, one of the locks.
“Why do you insist on tormenting Matthews like that?” Spock’s got his hands linked behind his back, pushing them upwards to stretch out his shoulders.
“Because I’m the flyhalf so I can get away with it, and it’s kind of like a game we play...” Jim grins when one of Spock’s eyebrows makes a bid for his hairline and then just claps him on the shoulder when the whistle blows, making his way back out to the field. He maps out where he wants the kick to go as the ref hands him the ball, by the time the whistle sounds the start of play Jim’s ready. He feels the ball connect right in the way he wants and grins as he runs to follow it.
The other team’s hook grabs the ball and makes it a few yards before he’s passing it to their captain and Jim’s right there, he manages to wrap an arm around the other player’s stomach and launches all his weight, he can feel the other player’s momentum stop and then they go down when Chekov adds his weight to Jim’s. The ruck forms around them and Jim’s buried under the weight of his teammates and the other team’s players, he can feel his knee connect with something hard just as the ref’s whistle blows to stop the play.
The other players climb off him slowly and he’s suddenly face to face with the Ole Miss captain, his hazel eyes wild and slightly unfocused as blood drips down his temple. “You okay?” Jim’s asking the question before he can think better of it and the other man focuses his gaze on Jim.
“I may throw up on ya.” Jim starts and then blinks as the man lifts himself to his knees and then his feet. He’s still sitting slightly dumbfounded when the ref wiggles the ball in front of his face, trying to hand it to him for the penalty kick at the goal. Jim gives his head a shake and stands, taking the ball in hand.
He’s still not really thinking clearly when his foot connects with the ball but the kick is good and he breathes out a sigh of relief. Matthews claps a hand down on his shoulder and gives him a look, Jim just shakes his head and focuses on the game again.
------
Jim tips the beer back and pulls deep, grinning around the mouth of the bottle when he catches Chekov smirking at Riley as they both toss back a sixth shot of vodka and Riley sways on his feet. They have the night in Oxford near the campus so they decide to celebrate their win in the bottom of shot glasses and beer bottles. They came out 23-21 in the end so it’s not a big win by a long shot but it was a fun game to play.
When the captain from the Ole Miss team drops into the seat beside him and orders a glass of whiskey he lifts his beer bottle in a salute. The other man lifts one of his eyebrows in a movement that is eerily similar to Spock and tips his glass in return as it makes it into his hand. They drink beside each other quietly for a few minutes before Jim thunks down an empty bottle and buys another round for both of them as he turns to face the prop.
“Thanks for not throwing up on me.” Jim takes in the other man’s features, the hazel eyes that are leaning more towards green right now. Full lips that would look at home in more feminine features but for some reason work really well with the three day old scruff and the bruise blooming across his jaw line. “Concussion?”
The man grunts in response and eyes Jim over his glass as he leans back in the chair.
“Should you be drinking with a concussion?” The man raises his eyebrow again as he brings the glass to his lips and Jim raises his hands in supplication. He just watches the other man for a few minutes before he juts out his hand, “Jim Kirk, fly half.” The other man eyes it for about five seconds longer than Jim is comfortable with before taking it in his own.
“McCoy, Leonard McCoy, prop.” They end up talking rugby for the next three rounds, talking about how they got into it. Jim had a teacher in high school that figured, correctly, that there were some anger issues so she told him to go out for rugby, it had helped her. Leonard’s friends had dared the future doctor to go out and do some harm instead of healing, lo and behold he loved the sport from the start.
“I’ll be back, gotta hit the head.” Jim levers himself off the stool and walks towards the bathroom, halfway there his shoulder bumps into another patron’s and before the apology is even out of his mouth a fist is smashing into his face with a crack like a green twig snapping. He reacts automatically and lodges his fist in the other guy’s stomach.
Then his team is in the fray and Jim’s started an honest to god bar brawl. He’s ducking another punch when a hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him hard towards the back of the bar. He clears the fight and sees Leonard is the one that’s pulling him towards a door at the back. They stumble out into the alleyway and Jim really starts to feel the throb of his nose, the tickle of blood dripping off his chin.
“Umb...” He lifts his hand up to his face and prods gently at the sides of his nose, wincing when the pain lances through his entire head. Leonard turns around and his eyes widen slightly before he grabs Jim’s chin and tilts it towards the light coming down from the streetlights. His breath puffs out and Jim smells mint and whiskey, making his knees a little weak despite the pain that’s radiating through his entire upper body now as brand new fight wounds mix with the bruises and strained muscles from the game.
“You need to get your nose set or it’s gonna fuck up the whole pretty boy thing you’ve got goin’.” Leonard lets go of Jim and then jerks his chin towards the end of the alley. “Com'on.”
Jim shrugs and follows him towards the apartment complex that’s just down the street, climbing up two floors and then Leonard’s slotting a key into the deadbolt and pushing open the door.
“Stay there for a second; I don’t want you bleedin’ all over my floor.” Jim nods and waits where he’s told, Leonard comes back with a dish towel and tosses it to Jim before motioning him towards a threadbare couch. Jim toes off his shoes and then goes to sit down, unabashedly staring at the pictures and the text books scattered around the room. He can hear clanging in the kitchen and then the sound of the fridge door opening and closing, he tracks Leonard’s path around his kitchen as more cupboards open and close and then the water running.
When Leonard comes back into the room he has a bowl of water and package of gauze. He pulls the coffee table close enough that he can sit on it and sets the bowl down beside him before reaching out and gently pulling the towel away from Jim’s face. He grabs a piece of the gauze and dips it in the water before swabbing across Jim’s nose, making him inhale sharply at the sudden stab of pain.
“Sorry.” Jim shrugs and Leonard continues to wash away the blood.
“So, how bad is it doc?” Jim’s eyes are crossing as he tries to look at the damage and Leonard huffs out a breath of laughter.
“Well it’s definitely broken, but I can set it for you and it should heal pretty straight.” Jim’s suddenly aware of how close Leonard’s face is to his own. The smell of whiskey is still on his breath and Jim wonders idly if his mouth still tastes like it, his eyes flicker down to his lips and then back to Leonard’s eyes. The other man blinks and then clears his throat before pulling away and Jim suddenly feels bereft. He clears his throat again and then mumbles something indistinct about spoons before he stands up and goes back into the kitchen. Jim leans back on the couch and lets his head fall back, breathing shaky as he tries to calm his nerves.
When Leonard comes back he’s got two metal spoons clutched in his hands. He sits back down on the coffee table and leans forward, setting the bottoms of the frozen spoons on either side of Jim’s nose.
“This is gonna hurt.” Jim’s just about to ask what the fuck he’s gonna do with spoons when Leonard presses the utensils hard against both sides, forcing the bone back into place with a sickening crunch and Jim howls as the pain lances right through his skull.
“Don’t be such an infant.” Leonard leans forward and grabs his chin between his fingers again, inspecting his work. “It looks like the bone is set pretty straight.”
There’s a crackle of something between them when Leonard’s eyes shift back to Jim’s again and he squirms under Leonard's fingers. The other man jerks away like he's been burned and clears his throat. Suddenly awkward Jim blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.
"Thanks Bones." Hazel eyes widen comically and his eyebrow climbs up his forehead again.
"Bones?" He sounds incredulous and Jim laughs.
"Well, you fixed mine, so..." Jim trails off and shrugs, laughing again when Bones starts muttering about damn fool kids.
Next Part