the Dalaverse

Given that I inexplicably woke up an hour before my alarm went off, thought I'd dust off these little commentfics I wrote for st_respect before I got burned out on the comm specifically and writing in general. I need to jumpstart the creative juices in a bad way, y'all. I have things to write, dammit.

But for now there's this.



Title: Four hangovers Jim wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, and one he kind of enjoyed
Author: Dala
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: standard applies


Four hangovers Jim wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, and one he kind of enjoyed


1. Jim was fourteen the first time he got drunk, on peppermint schnapps stolen from Frank's liquor cabinet. While he did get his hand up Nancy Paulson's skirt, this success was mitigated by the fact that he puked all over himself about ten seconds later. She split pretty soon after that. Or at least he assumed she did, as he woke up bare-assed naked on the dirt floor of the barn, mostly because weak morning light and a harshly cleared throat had driven nails under his eyelids.

His mother had come home for Thanksgiving, a surprise she didn't repeat the next year. Or the year after.


2. The slam of the old house's door echoed in his ears as he hopped on his bike and took off. The destination didn't matter so much as that first stop forty miles out of town, when he pulled into a convenience store to buy a bottle of Jack with his fake I.D. He drove for several hours more before he stopped and sank down in some deserted park, one hand clutching the liquor bottle and the other flattened against the still-warm engine of his bike.

Just before dawn, he was awakened by a booted foot nudging his ass.

"You again," said the cop in his weird modulated voice, and Jim groaned and clutched his aching skull.


3. It was all fucking Finnegan's fucking fault. He'd stocked his party with nothing but Jello shots and livid purple jungle juice in an attempt to woo girls who mostly knew to stay the fuck away from the deadly combination of sugar and grain alcohol. Jim on the other hand, as Bones informed him with an evil smirk the next morning, didn't have the sense God gave a banana slug much less a fine woman like Uhura. It was a wonder he’d gotten away with just a vicious hangover and not a broken nose.

"Shut the hell up, Bones," Jim muttered, dragging his pillow over his face. Bones tugged it away, bopped Jim in the head when he tried to wrestle it back, and finally gave him the hypo he'd been dangling just out of reach for the past fifteen minutes.


4. Jim woke up alone the morning after he took the Kobayashi Maru. He immediately rolled over and vomited into the trashcan beside the bed, and it was only after he realized it was an awfully convenient placement that he felt the faint stirrings of memory. His hot face pressed against a broad chest, strong arms wrapped around him, a quiet steady voice telling him it was all right - it'll be all right, easy, Jim, easy, shhhh…

There was a handful of pills, a glass of water, and a note about Bones' early morning practical exam sitting by the bed. He returned around noon and Jim brushed off his concern with a laugh, careful to give every impression of not remembering how the night had ended. Bones fixed him with a long, searching look; but he pressed his lips together in the Bones version of a smile and dug into the bag of bagels he'd brought. Jim took one with cautious enthusiasm, as his stomach seemed to have emptied itself for now and the pounding in his head had eased.

His heart, well, he couldn't do much about that.


1. On the one hand, it was maybe the worst hangover he'd ever had. A newly minted ship's crew drowning their grief and sorrow and joy in alcohol would do that to you. Round after round and he hadn’t paid a single credit all night - it may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he pretty much wanted to curl up and die weeping.

On the other hand, Bones was naked.

Bones was naked, in Jim's bed, pressed up against Jim's back and snoring like an antique lawnmower.

Jim winced at the rumbling sound but snuggled closer until Bones snorted, slung an arm over his hip, stuck a cold nose into his ear and fell blessedly quiet.

Yeah, Jim thought as he stroked his hand down Bones' thigh, he could get used to waking up like this.




Title: Go Where I Can't Follow
McCoy gets lost.
Author: Dala
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: standard applies


Go Where I Can't Follow


He was walking. Or at least he thought he was. Sometimes his feet seemed to leave the ground, and sometimes there was water in front of him which he splashed through until it became deep enough to swim. There was a sameness to the motions and after a time it occurred to him that his muscles ought to be getting sore, but he didn't feel a hint of fatigue until he heard a voice.

"Come back."

His feet dragged. His heart began to thud in his ears.

I know you.

What had seemed an end unto itself began to break through a haze of haze of apathy to puzzle him, if faintly. Why was he walking, anyway? Where was he going?

"Come back to me."

The echoes sounded all around him, though there was nothing he could see to reflect soundwaves. Nothing ahead and nothing behind to indicate how far he’d come, but some instinct deep inside kept insisting it was too far, too far...

"You have not yet traveled out of reach, Doctor, but you are drawing near. You can still return - you must return. Now."

That was a different voice, more even in cadence and calmer than the first but that wasn‘t what gave him pause. He found himself stretching an arm out through air thick as molasses, reaching for a ragged sound like breath torn from scorched lungs. If he could just -

"Bones, please!"

A howling wind suddenly broke upon the stillness and he knew at once that this was what he must do. He turned into the blustering force even as it battered him, making him aware of his weariness for the first time. He set himself against it, clawed at it, gritted his teeth and fought like hell until -

"Jim?"

His voice was hoarse from disuse. Jim's eyes burned blue as he dropped his bright head over Leonard's trembling hands.

"You ever leave me like that again," Jim hissed against his knuckles, "and I swear I'll -"

He broke off to kiss Leonard, again and again. Leonard tasted bitter fear and sweet relief on his lips, and whispered, "Never. Never."