(no subject)

[boldygoing]

Of all the things Jim Kirk wishes he could do right now, getting good and drunk to drown his sorrows is certainly towards the top of the list. But his doctor says no, absolutely not, and never in his life has he wanted to go against doctor's orders less than he does lately.

So the captain finds himself in the Forum, unsure even what the hell to do with himself, and he gingerly eases himself down onto one of the couches, moving with the careful patience of the recently physically injured, before he notices the date on a nearby calendar.

Father's Day. Huh. How... stupidly appropriate.

"For those who've lost a parent... how the hell do you honor their memory? Even if you haven't, do you bother doing holidays like this?"

Comments

Just noticed autocorrect screwed up the previous comment... *shakefist*

[boldygoing]

"Got me there." It wasn't ever something that Jim thought about at that age, but maybe if it had been an option. Either way. "You still with them now?"

It happens, no big

[aw_hawkguy]

Clint shakes his head. "Nah, I left a long time ago." With another of those prove-me-wrong grins, he adds, "I'm a superhero."

[boldygoing]

"Yeah?" That earns him a couple raised eyebrows. Still not the weirdest thing he's heard here, but it's up there. "You have a cool codename?"

[aw_hawkguy]

"Hawkeye. World's greatest archer." Lucky chimes in with a "werf!"

[boldygoing]

Archer... that'd fit with the calluses and the muscley arms. Jim gives the dog an extra scritch while he reflects on that. "You ever get anybody who disputes the 'world's greatest' part?"

[aw_hawkguy]

"Oh, yeah. My brother, the guy who taught me, some other jerks, my protege--she's not a jerk, she's great." He pats himself down, then admits, "I shoulda brought my bow, I could show you some tricks."

[boldygoing]

The list of people gets a little chuckle out of him. "That'd be something to see. Outside the competitive kind, and some hobbyists, there's not a lot of archery in practice anymore. I learned a little for survival hunting but I'm not great at it."

[aw_hawkguy]

"Yeah, there's not a lotta archers in my world, either," he admits, "but a bow's better than a gun almost every time, y'ask me."

[boldygoing]

"Depends on if you consider a phaser a gun. Can't stun people with arrows, usually. But if you're stranded someplace and have to make a weapon, it's a hell of a lot easier to come up with a bow." Jim has a healthy respect for the older ways of doing things. The modern way's great, but if you're too dependent on it, it can bite you in the ass if you're caught out without it.

[aw_hawkguy]

"Tazer arrow," Clint counters reflexively, then grins again. "How loud is a phaser, when you shoot it?"

[boldygoing]

Hey, there's a reason he said 'usually,' after all. "At point-blank range, about sixty decibels, for standard-issue. Phaser rifles are louder but we don't make a habit of bringing heavy firepower unless we're gonna need it." He falters a little as he remembers the last time he wielded one, during the attack on Daystrom. Not that it did much good. It wasn't enough. Jim rallies himself to cover the momentary lapse.

[aw_hawkguy]

"Quieter than a gun, but still not too sneaky," Clint opines, before noticing Jim's lapse. He covers it the way he usually does, looking somewhere else for a moment and pretending not to notice. It's really hard to believe he's divorced, huh?

"Seriously, I'm half tempted to go get my bow an' show off."

[boldygoing]

Jim smiles slightly. "If you want to put on a show, I'm not gonna complain. Hell, I'd ask for pointers on my own technique while we're at it if I didn't know that'd end badly for me."

[aw_hawkguy]

"Why would it end badly for you?" Clint asks, curiosity genuine. He likes to think he's a pretty chill guy most of the time.

[boldygoing]

"Doctor's orders again," Jim says, jerking a thumb vaguely towards his back. "Broke a couple vertabrae two months ago and spent a few weeks in a coma. The bone's knitted but I'm not supposed to work out outside of PT yet, and between the bed rest and the radiation exposure, my muscles are still working on getting back to normal."

[aw_hawkguy]

"Aw, man, been there. Feels like I just got outta the hospital again. Can ya have beer yet?"

[boldygoing]

Jim shakes his head. "No alcohol, no caffeine, and a bunch of other stuff. And my doctor's my best friend so I can't cheat. I swear Bones has a 'Jim is doing something I told him not to' radar or something."

[aw_hawkguy]

Coffee was going to be Clint's next suggested panacea. As it is, he sighs, then thinks. "What about pizza? Can you have pizza?"

[boldygoing]

"Within reason, sure," Jim says, giving him a slightly amused look. Pizza is such a sliding scale of healthfulness by itself that there's gotta be something he can have. "Nothing too greasy and nothing deep-fried, but it's pizza. It's pretty open-ended as far as food goes."

[aw_hawkguy]

People keep saying the magic P-word, and Lucky is looking back and forth between the two humans, panting excitedly. Clint chuckles. "Alright, then. Wait here, keep Lucky company, and I'll be back in a bit." He throws a thumbs-up and turns to head off.

[boldygoing]

Jim has no idea if Clint is going off to get his bow or pizza or both, but he has no objections. Either way, he's a very trusting stranger to leave his dog with someone he's just met, but the captain has no intentions of running off with Lucky. "All right." He looks down at the excited dog. "Guess it's just you and me for a bit."

[aw_hawkguy]

"Werf!" is Lucky's cheerful answer, before snuffling at Jim's hand for more scritches.

Lucky's a good judge of character, and Clint's an Avenger--he's confident of his ability to get his dog back if it comes to that (please, world, don't make Clint Barton go John Wick). When he returns, it's with a box of New York-style pizza in one arm and a bow and quiver slung over the other. "Hey, hey! Who here likes pepperoni?"

[boldygoing]

Jim is more than happy to oblige, smiling a little at the pure innocence and happiness that seems to come natural to dogs. If only everyone could be content with a good scratch behind the ears once in a while.

The smell of pizza precedes Clint's return, and Jim directs a grateful look towards the man bringing him one of Earth's most famous junk foods, of his own volition no less. "I'm down for anything that's not reconstituted."

[aw_hawkguy]

"Reconst-I don't even know what that is," Clint replies, setting the box down on the bench and holding Lucky back so the excited dog doesn't just snarf the whole thing as soon as it's open. "This beauty was made fresh, not half an hour ago, in a joint down the street from my building. This is real-deal, all-American, New York-style pizza!"

[boldygoing]

Jim's figured out by now that Clint probably doesn't call the same decade home, so it doesn't surprise him terribly that he has to explain. "You know how way back in the early days of space travel, before they had artificial gravity, they did that dehydrated food thing? Same basic principle, just more advanced." He brushes the dog hair off his hands and opens the box, drawing out one of the slices for himself.