Rating: R for language
Series: Star Trek: 2009
Pairing: Jim/Bones (It's there, I promise.)
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, much as I may want to.
Summary: Jim's had a tough week at the Academy, and he needs a way to vent his rage before he can accept the comfort that Bones offers with his touch.
A shoulder collides with his, and Jim certainly didn't miss the intentional shift sideways that instigated the contact. Nor does he miss the derisive snort from the muscle-bound Neanderthal that nearly sent him crashing into the table.
"Why don't you watch where you're going, cadet," the word is snarled into an epithet, and Jim can't help but tense. The townie is asking for trouble – and he's in the mood to give it.
He sees the flash of warning as he meets Bones' eyes, but he's past the point of caring. This week has been shitty, and he just needs something to take his frustration out on. The Academy is not giving him enough of an outlet. He needs primal, unchoreographed.
His fist clenches by itself, flying through the air as he spins – and his grin is feral as his hand connects with a satisfying crunch against the oaf's cheekbone. Part of him recognizes that his combat instructor would be proud of his form. It's clean, the fist aligned with the wrist so the impact can travel up his arm and out. He carries the punch past the point of contact, making sure it's worth it.
Then his brain stops its higher functions, as he wards off a return blow with a grunt. The fucker has fists the size of hams, and even stopping them from hitting their intended targets has repercussions. Jim keeps hold of the fist, spinning inside the oaf's guard as he slams into the solar plexus with a well-placed elbow.
As expected, the blow is not enough to take down the giant, even though he emits a loud moan, and the other ham-sized fist connects with his kidney. Doubling over as pain shoots through his side, Jim groans – but he manages to shift away before the brute can get another blow in.
Still bent over in the pain, he raises his fists to protect his face, as he is pelted with blows. Over and over again, the giant connects with his flesh – sometimes, Jim can't block them quickly enough, and he gets a fist to the face. He can feel his eye purpling almost instantly, and there's a solid crack against his nose that makes him see stars and taste blood.
But he recovers during a momentary pause in the assault, and with a roar he rushes forward. Tackling the fucker around the midsection, he sweeps an ankle out from under his enemy and they end up crashing through a table. But Jim lands on top, and takes advantage of his position. Straddling the man's arms, pinning them to his sides, he takes the opportunity to work on the fucker's face. Fist after fist, until the giant is no longer growling at Jim, and is simply staring up at him.
Then Jim lifts the giant up by the collar of his coverall, bringing his face close to Jim's own. "You done? Are you going to behave now?"
The man manages a feeble nod, his eye already swelling shut, and Jim lets him fall back to the floor. Only then is he conscious of the silence around them, the staring shocked faces. The anger is gone, evaporated in the force of his fists connecting with flesh. Now he's just drained, and he rises shakily to his feet.
A cool hand against his forehead, and a tsking noise at his side. "Come on, kid, let's get you home. I need to fix you up, before any of this becomes permanent." Jim leans into the touch with a hum, closing his eyes against the lights that are suddenly too bright for him to tolerate.
Bones sighs, but the hands on Jim are gentle despite the gruff tone. And he allows himself to be led away, towards their dorm room and the comfort Bones offered earlier – but Jim wasn't yet ready to accept.