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Joanna and Kirk
“I’m planning to fuck Sulu.”
It doesn’t distract Uncle Jim nearly as much as she’s hoping and he still presses forward with the attack Joanna had sensed more than seen building up. Uncle Jim doesn’t give warnings but she’s sparred with him enough over the years that she knows his style. Of course, his style is defined by being unpredictable, ruthless and tactically brilliant so he still kicks her ass about ninety-eight percent of the time. But it takes him longer these days and she’ll take her goddamn victories where she can.
She blocks, counterstrikes and dances back and they eye each other warily as they circle.
“Business or pleasure?” He’s still circling, his knife tip red from a slash that’s a line of fire on Joanna’s belly, a lesson in moving faster.
“Both.” She dances in and feels a flash of triumph when her seeking knife finds the soft give of flesh. The triumph disappears when his fist comes out of nowhere and knocks her back, sending her staggering under the force of the blow and the bright burst of pain that follows—shit, should have expected that. She automatically puts up a block but knows it’s not going to be enough even before Uncle Jim just bulldozes through it.
Joanna finds herself on the ground, straddled by her grinning mentor, his knife at her throat.
“Loser.”
“Fuck you,” she growls, careful not to move her neck.
Uncle Jim just smirks down at her. “But baby, what would your father say.” He laughs and then rises in one smooth motion, hauling her up with a powerful hand on her wrist.
She rolls her eyes and watches as he examines his wound, the blood dripping in slow rivulets down his bare forearm.
“Not bad.”
The offhand praise sends prickles of pleasure through Joanna’s system even as she raises a haughty eyebrow in response. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“It’s cute you’re such an optimist.” Mocking blue eyes turn serious and he reaches out to rap her forehead with his knuckles. “I’ve got plans for you and Sulu. So don’t break each other.”
Joanna smirks, amused, the action bringing a fresh burst of pain from the bruise already forming on her face. “I’ll try not to do any permanent damage.”
Chekov and Sulu
"You are planning to fuck Joanna, yes?” Pavel turns from the strung up Atrastan prisoner they’ve been interrogating. The seven foot barbarian started singing like a canary over an hour ago. Now they’re just amusing themselves.
Hikaru’s eyes slide sideways as he assesses Chekov’s mood. Pavel doesn’t seem like he’s about to turn those bloody knives he’s holding Hikaru’s way but, then again, Pavel can be…unpredictable. It’s part of his charm.
“Thinking about it.” He keeps his tone casual. Truth is he’s been thinking about it a lot. And not just because of her looks. Yeah, Joanna McCoy’s fuckable with her cool eyes, warm skin, and long lean lines of a thoroughbred. But it’s more than that. Joanna’s her own unique mix of cool. A ‘don’t fuck with me’, no nonsense, baby badass in training. It’s…fascinating. He wants to fuck her, test her, play with her. He hasn’t decided yet if he wants to break her—even aside from the suicidal inadvisability of breaking one of Kirk’s possessions without permission.
Kirk and McCoy he figured he’d have to deal with. But Pavel. Hmm, he hadn’t actually considered that Pavel might be a problem. He should have, with the kid’s weird thing for McCoy. The young Russian’s had a soft spot for the doc ever since first transferring aboard. Hikaru used to think maybe Pavel saw McCoy as some sort of surrogate father; he’ll sit quietly through one of McCoy’s acid tongued lectures when he'd be reaching for his knives if anyone else—except maybe Kirk—dared. That theory had lasted until one violently memorable shore leave on earth when Hikaru had actually met Pavel’s father. Turns out, Andrei Gregorovitch Chekov is a savage bear of a Cassock who literally wears the bones of his defeated enemies and is pathologically fond of his axe. The brutal man bears no resemblance to the acid tongued, life is precious, ‘healer through and through’ McCoy.
No, apparently Pavel just has a weird thing for McCoy.
“You have something to say?” It’s a neutral way to ask ‘are we going to have a fucking problem?’
Chekov smiles sunnily. “Da. I have thought on this. I think Joanna and you will make a nice couple.” He turns and slides both knives with slow precision into the prisoner who just moans, too far gone to do anything but hang limply from his restraints.
“But…?”
He watches Pavel frown in displeasure at the prisoner’s lack of reaction and then twist the knives methodically, nodding when the action draws a gurgled scream. Satisfied, the young Russian turns to stare at Hikaru earnestly.
“But you should talk to her papa first. Doktor McCoy is wery fond of Joanna. He worries.”
“You want me to talk to the doc,” Sulu repeats incredulously.
“Da.”
“About fucking his daughter.”
“Da.”
Hikaru opens his mouth to object, sees the determined set to Pavel’s expression and rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk to the man. You’re fucking weird sometimes, Pavel. You know that, right?”
Pavel shrugs and pulls his knife out, gesturing at the now unconscious man. “I am done. Do you want to finish him?”
Hikaru grins and watches as Pavel flips a knife into the air. It’s an old game. Hikaru’s sword is out and flashing in a clean slice of lethally sharp sword through flesh, muscle and vertebrae, and the head topples before the dagger lands back in Pavel’s palm. Pavel smiles in appreciation and leans to grab the unevenly rolling head by its top knot, tossing it to the Security crewman standing by.
“Bring the next prisoner in, please,” Pavel orders the subordinate who nods respectfully and exits as Pavel begins meticulously cleaning his blades in preparation for their next unlucky ‘guest’. While Security might resent their occasional butting in on interrogations, they’re too in awe of Pavel’s talent with knives and too scared of the both of them to do anything as stupid as object.
“I think this will be a good thing, to reassure the doctor of your intentions,” Pavel concludes, nodding in pleasure.
Hikaru just shrugs. Somehow reassured is not how he thinks the doc is going to feel.
Sulu and McCoy
“Hey, doc.”
Leonard looks up from his charts and his already irritable temper takes a nose dive when he sees Sulu standing, relaxed, in the entrance to his office.
In the normal course of business Leonard doesn’t have anything against the man. Sulu’s smart, competent and not any more vicious than anyone else on this godforsaken ship. And the fact that the helmsman keeps them from crashing into planets or being sucked into black holes is a big goddamn plus in his favor.
There’s also the fact that the man’s fucking lethal so a little cautious respect doesn’t hurt.
That’s in the normal course of things. Normal doesn’t really apply when the bastard’s sniffing around Joanna.
“Yeah?” He knows his tone is surly and unwelcoming and he can’t bring himself to care. He’s been stewing over the whole goddamn situation ever since he’d seen them at lunch two days ago. The sexual interest—and it makes his left eye twitch just thinking those words in relation to his baby girl—had been evident to a father’s suspicious eyes. So he’d gritted his teeth and initiated a painfully awkward discussion with Jo last night, trying to impress on her how dangerous Sulu was.
Jo had just looked at him, beautiful and confident and so fucking young. “Daddy, it doesn’t make sense for me to be with someone weak,” she’d pointed out, her eyes steady and her voice reasonable.
When he’d argued grimly that there was ‘weak’ and then there was ‘I’ve decapitated more aliens than I can remember’ and that there was a huge goddamn range between the two, Jo’s eyes had softened—which only reminded Leonard how hard her eyes usually were these days.
“I’ll be careful, Daddy. I promise. Look, whatever happens, it’s short-term. I’m only on the ship for three weeks.”
Leonard had felt the rebuttal boiling up behind his tight throat. That she had no idea how much pain and humiliation could be inflicted in five minutes, let alone three weeks, and that he’d give anything for her to never know what it felt like to have your choices taken away; to be forced to your knees at the beck and call of someone who didn't understand the concept of mercy.
But in the end he’d held his tongue, forcing a stiff smile and nodding.
Because, the hell of it is that his baby girl does know. Joanna’s a citizen of the empire and she knows exactly how dangerous the ‘fleet is, how precarious life in the service is. And she’s more than capable of handling herself.
Just not against someone like Sulu.
The man in question is walking towards him now, looking amused, like he knows exactly what’s behind Leonard’s glare.
"You look upset, doc. Problem?”
“Stay away from Jo.” The blunt demand forces its way out and, dammit, he knows better than to give Sulu a direct order. It’s practically daring the pilot to do the opposite.
Sure enough, Sulu smiles as he rounds the messy desk, leaning against it, next to Leonard’s chair. Leonard stiffens as the man’s dark eyes travel up and down, studying him in lazy appreciation.
“Really, doc?” Sulu’s voice drops into that husky purr of his. “And if I do, are you going to offer me something better to take her place?”
Leonard blinks, taken off guard. “Are you fucking crazy?” he blurts it out, more shocked than anything. “Kirk would kill us both.”
Sulu just shrugs and gestures at the room. “I don’t see him here. Who says he ever has to know?”
Leonard stares at Sulu, trying to figure out what the hell kind of game the other man’s playing but can’t read anything in those inscrutable features. He’s got to be bluffing, Leonard thinks uneasily.
When Sulu leans in, reaching out to trace a finger gently down Leonard’s jaw, he barely resists the simultaneous urges to flinch back and sock the helmsman in the face.
“So, how ‘bout it, doc?" Sulu smiles like a wolf grinning at its prey. "You willing to bend over and take one for the team to protect your baby girl?”
Enough is goddamn enough. Leonard surges to his feet, knocking Sulu’s hand away. “I keep you alive you son-of-a-bitch,” he snarls. “I’ve stitched you back together more times than I can count. You hurt my daughter and next time you need help, I might just be a little too goddamn slow to save you.”
He can only scowl in baffled frustration when, instead of getting angry at the threat, Sulu’s smile just widens into a pleased grin. Jesus H. Christ, he will never understand the command crew of the Enterprise, not ever. They are the most baffling, fucking annoying bastards that have ever lived, every goddamn one of them.
Because Sulu’s chuckling now. “Very nice, doc. I’ve always wondered what it would take to get you past your ‘I’m a healer’ thing.”
He watches as Sulu leans back again and suddenly the taunting danger that’s been targeting like a laser onto him is gone, replaced by Sulu’s usual lazy air of ‘I could kill you, but right now it would require more effort than you’re worth.’
“Look, I’m not going to hurt your little girl. But I’m not going to stay away from her either. Especially not if she comes to me.” The ‘And she will,’ remains unspoken.
Leonard knows that’s the best he’s going to get. Knows it’s probably Kirk and not his own threat that’s getting Sulu to give him that much. So he scowls and nods curtly and watches as Sulu tosses him a casual salute, gets up and strolls out of the room like the cocky son-of-a-bitch he is.
Leonard resists the urge to pick up his padd and throw it at the man.
Knowing his luck the bastard’ll end up his son-in-law.