Work Text
A loud crash impolitely rouses Hikaru from his sleep. The chrono on his bedside table reads 0400. Not cool. He’s not impressed. Not with a final in First Contact Diplomacy in the morning. Fucking drunk idiots. Normally, he’d just turn around and try to go back to sleep but a second crash indicates that he should probably investigate. Last thing he needs right now is someone bleeding on his roses.They’re amazing things, roses. Nearly eradicated during the third world war, botanists all over the planet had recreated the species from but a few cell samples making it a perfect candidate for studying hybrids. And no one gets in trouble for having a rosa cannabis grow-op on campus if it is in the name of science. He shuffles to the window, old-fashioned ones which had to be pushed up. They were authentic Victorian homes transplanted from Steiner Street and turned into residences for Academy recruits in an effort to preserve a part of San Francisco history. Rooms in this residence were sizeable and best of all, they were single rooms reserved for the brightest young minds in the Academy. One of those bright young minds was going to kill whatever made that much noise.He opens the window and leans outside and realizes he should have known.James T. Kirk is an asshole, an asshole with the impulse control of a three-year-old. Hikaru should know. Ever since they’d met for the first time when Hikaru had kicked Jim’s ass in Hand to Hand during their first year, their acquaintance had been a series of… not one-night stands, and he certainly couldn’t call them dates, a series of hot encounters. Hikaru isn’t sure when they stopped just having casual sex and started hanging out, but it’s never been here. And now he is, and Hikaru’s not sure how he feels about that. Jim Kirk’s fire that few should play with even if he’s currently sitting on his ass on the lawn entangled in a mess of trellis and roses, getting soaked by the sprinklers. Worst of all? He’s laughing like a kid, like he’s having the time of his life, like Hikaru’s not going to fail First Contact Diplomacy tomorrow morning. He sighs.***He’s not drunk, or not as drunk as he could be, when he decides to pay Hikaru a visit. He’s been at the bar too long and Bones had left him on his own already, telling him not to worry so god damn much. Hah, big words for a guy who gave him a speech about flying that ended with Andorian shingles. So, he got caught cheating, only it wasn’t cheating, he just beat Spock at his own game. Apparently, this still ends with an early morning meeting of his entire graduating class to assess the gravity of his offense.The night started with him pacing in the room he shared with Bones until Bones decided he needed to feed Jim shots of Jack at the bar to get his mind off things. Granted, that had worked for a little while, until Jim tried to pick up and an overwhelming sense of guilt and helplessness threw him off his gain. Starfleet is the order Jim never had in his life, a way to channel his energy into something good. He’s excellent here: top five of the class in all of his subjects, fast-tracking through the command track, making friends, for the first time in his life he feels like he’s home. Until he remembers he may have fucked things up for himself.How he found Hikaru’s residence, he’s not quite sure. He’s never been on this side of campus and all their … uh, interactions, have happened in neutral space, mostly in deserted lounges or behind buildings in the dark. Even though in the past few weeks, they had begun hanging out at Jim’s, playing vid games, smoking up and just talking all night long. It’s been weird, not that he minds. Though he’s starting to feel odd because he’d also been seeing Gaila, ah yes, more guilt there, too. He’s a fucked up asshole and possibly that’s precisely why he’s here. He doesn’t know which room is Hikaru’s until he sees a tall trellis covered in roses. Perfect. He’s not drunk enough to lose control of his limbs as he climbs up the trellis, but drunk enough to overlook that this is a perfectly stupid idea. However, gravity is not as kind and reminds him that he’s gained 15lbs since he started at the Academy. Muscle sure, but the trellis doesn’t understand the difference and creaks and cracks like it’s going to break. Jim takes another two steps before its had enough, bucks underneath him and they both come crashing down in a heap. If Hikaru wasn’t awake before, Jim’s sure he is now. And right on cue, the sprinklers go off and Jim can’t do anything but laugh.***“Are you fucking insane?” Jim would believe Hikaru is actually mad at him if he weren’t threading his fingers through Jim’s hair looking for head trauma. So, Jim just closes his eyes and leans into the touch,“Maybe a little impulse challenged.” It’s not as slurry as it could have been.“You’re drunk.” It’s not an accusation, Jim figures, he wants an explanation but he’s not ready for that yet and makes a vague gesture as Hikaru helps him up. “Let’s get you inside. You may have destroyed my roses, but they put up one hell of a fight.”Jim looks at his hand and arm, covered in small, bloody scratches and suddenly, he can feel them everywhere. He grimaces when Hikaru sits him down upstairs on the bed, tell him to stay put and that he’ll only be a minute getting the dermal regenerator from the first aid kid. He isn’t gone for long, just long enough to give Jim time to think and look miserable by the time Hikaru returns.“They’re going to kick me out tomorrow morning.” And the rest comes out like a flood, what had happened, his hopes, his dreams, fears, how he’s a fuck up, feeling guilty and Hikaru just sits there and listens while he heals Jim’s broken skin. Finally, when Jim’s exhausted himself around 0430, Hikaru pulls the wet shirt from his body and smiles instead of kicking Jim out.“You won’t get kicked out.” He says and pulls Jim onto the bed with him. “They’re going to scare the shit out of you and slap you on probation, but they won’t kick you out.” Jim still looks worried but he relaxes when Hikaru pulls him into an embrace. “You’ve got two hours before you need to be up again. Sleep.” Hikaru’s gruff voice is in direct juxtaposition with the soft kiss he places on Jim’s shoulder. “Tomorrow’s another day.”Only it isn’t.