A Starship Captain Walks Into a Bar…
Kirk slips into a seat at the bar. First shore leave in months, and he intends to make the most of it. Of course, it would be better if Spock hadn't gotten held up in the lab, but he should be here soon. He promised that whatever experiment he's working on wouldn't take more than half an hour or so. (Well, his exact phrasing was "twenty-seven point four minutes", but Kirk has never really shared his fondness for decimal points.)
Still, Kirk plans to enjoy himself, with or without Spock. He orders a Saurian brandy from a bored-looking bartender, and is just lifting the glass to his mouth to take his first sip when someone pushes past him, jostling his elbow and causing him to spill brandy down his shirt.
"Oh, sorry, was that your arm?" asks a voice, and Kirk turns to find his assailant is a tall, dark-haired man in a long coat. The man's expression changes from vaguely apologetic to admiring as Kirk turns to face him. "Well, hello there," he says, looking Kirk up and down with obvious interest, then grins and holds out a hand. "Captain Jack Harkness. And you are?"
Despite the damp patch on his shirt, Kirk finds himself smiling back. "Captain James Kirk," he says, taking Jack's hand, "but you can call me Jim."
He drops Jack's hand and leans back against the bar. "So, you're a captain?" he asks. "Starfleet?" He doubts it, he knows most of the captains in Starfleet and he's sure he'd have heard of someone like this.
As he suspected, Jack shakes his head. "I'm really more of a freelancer," he says, before gesturing at Kirk's glass. "Can I buy you a drink? I promise not to spill it on you this time." He smiles.
Kirk has been around the block enough times to recognise an invitation when he hears it, and he hesitates. The other man is definitely attractive, and there was a time not long ago when he wouldn't have given a second thought to accepting his offer. But things are different now.
He shakes his head slowly. "Before I answer that, I should probably mention that I'm waiting for someone."
Jack nods knowingly, not seeming at all fazed by this confession. "Boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
"Husband." Kirk feels his mouth curving into a smile as he says the word. They've only been married a few months, and there are times when he still doesn't quite believe it.
"Congratulations," Jack says. He turns away long enough to order a beer, then turns his attention back to Kirk. "You could bring him along if you wanted," he suggests idly. "The more the merrier."
Kirk allows himself a few seconds to fully imagine that scenario before reluctantly shaking his head. "I don't think he'd be interested," he says. "He's a Vulcan."
Jack pauses with his bottle of beer halfway to his mouth. "A Vulcan?" He looks impressed. "I've never had a Vulcan before." He sets the bottle down and begins listing species he's slept with. It's a long list, including several Kirk has never heard of, ending with, "But never a Vulcan." He studies Kirk, looking thoughtful. "And you're sure he wouldn't be interested in a threesome?"
Kirk laughs. "I'm certain." Jack's gaze goes suddenly distant, staring over Kirk's shoulder, and Kirk turns to see two people standing just inside the doorway. The one on the right, a girl with blonde hair, raises her hand and waves, while the other, a dark-haired man in a leather jacket, crosses his arms and glares.
Jack raises an arm, then turns to Kirk and shrugs. "Gotta go," he says. "That's my ride." He claps Kirk on the shoulder. "Good luck with your Vulcan," he says, before striding off to meet his friends.
Kirk watches them go before turning back to the bar and taking another sip of his brandy. He's contemplating ordering another when he feels a familiar pulse in his mind, and turns just in time to see Spock walk into the bar.
"Everything sorted out in the labs?" he asks as Spock approaches.
"Indeed," Spock replies. "The experiment concluded satisfactorily." His tone is purely professional, but the warmth in his eyes is unmistakable.
Kirk smiles. He never seriously considered taking Jack's offer, but it has given him some rather interesting ideas. He holds out two fingers and makes sure to transmit a few of them to Spock as their hands brush. They never did have a proper honeymoon, after all, and it's past time they made up for that.
"Come on," he says, curling his fingers around Spock's. "Let's get out of here."
Spock doesn't argue.