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Who: Buffy Summers (

a_slayer_slays) & Captain James T. Kirk (

canyonsiniowa)
What: Miss Summers has a favour to ask.
When: A few hours prior to sunset.
Where: Outside a window at House 7
Summary: A little hand-to-hand, a little foot-to-face.
Rating: Uhhm, let's say PG13 with a side-warning for potential innuendo, as it seems to occur often with these two. For the time being. Will change if anything else changes.

There is only so much bed-rest that the Buffster can take, and that limit was reached just about a long time ago. Besides? She was fine. She would be the first to swear that she was as fit as a fiddle and ready to fight--literally. Decked out in an athletic top and the closest thing to yoga pants Luceti's shops could provide, Buffy had stalked her way to house seven. She arrived in full stealth mode, hoping to avoid any prying doctorly eyes. She had a bit of a hands-on itch that could use some scratching, and she did not imagine such a thing fell into the category of physician-approved activities.

Not one of those kinds of itches, gentle reader. This urge more closely resembled one to get back into the training saddle and to get her spar on; however, there was little to stop the Slayer's wandering thoughts as she kept vigil outside Kirk's bedroom window. It was the stealthiest way to gain both contact and access, so she waited with her arms folded lazily against the window's outer sill. Buffy might have been a tad on the superhuman side, but two weeks out of commision was enough to many anyone a little lack-luster on her feet.

Eventually, a flicker of movement on the other side of the glass raised her hops. Buffy rap-rap-rapped on the glass with her knuckles. Should Captain James T. Kirk take a peek, there would be one smiling Slayer at his window. She looked as though she wanted a hand, or two. And maybe a few elbows and knees to go with them.

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Kirk had in fact heard the rap-rap-tat at the window. He made sure the door was closed before moving over to the window and opening it. There was a grin on his face as he raised his eyebrows at her. Starting your day with Buffy was always a plus.

"You know. Guys usually are the ones at the window. I think we got it backwards, Buff."

Buffy was quick to hoist herself up onto the open window's ledge; however, she was content to remain there instead of continuing on into the house. Too risky.

When she replied, it was in a quiet, conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, this isn't a ye olde times wooing thing, this is a playing hooky and avoiding Doctor Go Home Or I'll Carry You Home kind of thing."

Considering how Buffy reached out from the ledge to grab onto Kirk's wrist, her non-wooing argument did not seem to hold that much water.

"I'm all for playing hooky. I don't have my starship here for other things." He replied and motioned her to back away from the window. Good thing he had a white t-shirt and jeans on. He had gotten re-accustomed to the casual clothing outside of the Starfleet uniform.

And he still hated the damn cadet uniform.

After a moment, she acquiesced and retraced her motions back away from the window. Waiting for him, she tucked one hand firmly against her hip while the other bent upwards in a stretch.

"Another hour puttering around the house and I was gonna go all Lizzie Borden. Y'know, except for the whole spinster-kills-parents part. Which is, I think, the important part. So just substitute that with some other adequately psycho person."

Kirk slipped from the window and quietly closed the window behind him. Hopefully Spock would be keeping Bones busy enough so he wouldn't be missed. He was weeks behind on his Captain's Logs, but what the hell did it matter here? Starfleet wasn't here.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well," she began, smiling devilishly and offering a sardonic shrug. "I was going to pick you up some kind of lame house-warming gift what with the whole...new house and it needing to be warmed. But then I thought hey, why not get in a fight instead?"

She stretched the other arm. "Thought I might get back on the bicycle with the added bonus of maybe putting you through your paces, at the same time. Two birds, one very training-heavy stone."

"So you called me out here to kick my ass? Buff, you gotta come up with better date plans."

But that grin? He certainly wasn't complaining.

"Hey, give me a break. It's been a little while since I've been a passenger on the dating train. You should probably feel lucky than an ass-kicking is about the worst of it. I could've dragged you to mini-golf. Oh! Or a theme restaurant, the proverbial graveyard--in dating terms. "

It was true. It was pretty much a paltry excuse to drop by, but Buffy was anxious to back on the training wagon, as well as the dating one. And finding ways to make those two wagons into one cozy wagon for two? Well, that suited her just fine.

"We sort of lack those here in Luceti. Got ourselves genetic wings instead." He gave them a small flap.

"Sadly? Genetic wings do not a dating locale make. Or...maybe that's not so sad. I'm not exactly sure anymore."

Buffy had to take a moment to puzzle that one out.

He shrugged. "You could put it in the local newspaper. 'Looking for one blond with pink wings.' Though that kind of classifies a lot of people here. We lack a beach for the 'enjoys walks on the beach' sterotype."

"Well, there are always pina coladas and walks in the rain to fall back on, right?"

She rolled her shoulders and glanced around the two of them; Buffy was considering whether discretion made it worth seeking out an alternative venue.

There was that grin. "Next time it rains? We're totally going for a walk in it. But I think I owe you a hand-to-hand combat session."

Rain remained novel to her--in Sunnydale, it had rarely been anything but the town's namesake weather condition--and so her enthusiasm was clear. Still, she couldn't resist a final jibe before smoothly shifting into a customary Slayer stance. Here, it was.

"Okay--so some friendly training gets a big old wag of the finger from the date police, but walking in the rain is all smiles? I call major shenanigans."

"You should know me. I'm the Captain of Shenanigans." He teased.

She chuckled. "Oh, is that so? No, sorry. I hadn't figured that out by now. I'm completely dense, deaf, and blind. Here I was, thinking you were an upstanding, shenanigan-free kind of guy."

"Well for a disabled woman you are very pretty." Kirk ruffled her hair. "No need to worry about that. But you can also kick major ass for a disabled woman."

Exactly where was the everywhere that flattery would get you? Apparently, it was a front row seat to the spotlight-like grin that Buffy responded with.

"And you speak some mighty fine words for a Captain of Shenanigans. Mighty fine words that I like hearing, mind you. Almost makes me want to think twice about making you into my temporary training dummy."

"Crazy Romulans wouldn't think twice, no need for you to."

Though that mischievous grin popped back up on his face. Was he planning on something? Yeah, probably. When wasn't Kirk planning on something?

Buffy pursed her lips as she bulldozered straight through her customary butchering of new words. "Well, I don't plan to go all crazy Romanish on you. Just, y'know, some low-grade sparring goodness without a toga in sight."

Her playfulness petered off as she caught hunch on that mischief. Her eyes narrowed and she gave a moment up to watch him carefully; however, there was just enough of her that wanted whatever Kirk was planning to simply unfold. As such, she shook it off and her smile came back in full-force.

Without much warning he reached over and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder. Of course Buffy was stronger and could probably weasel out of the hold. But then that might look odd to the people they were passing. Not that it didn't look odd already. Though he imagined that Luceti was used to his odd nature.

"Warrior Princess for you though would look really hot." Kirk grinned.

Alarmed--but amused--Buffy chose to give the token struggle. Just enough to keep Kirk's antics from being too easy, but not enough to prove any kind of sincerity behind the effort. She would bide her time and wait for a more dramatic chance to free herself.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, 'cause I'm not too keen on the Xena look. Too much leather--only, in a way that also manages to be way not enough at the same time."

Her puzzlement comes through loud and clear. Fireman-lifted by two different spacemen in as many days. Heck, for all she knew? Maybe it was a future thing.

"I was more thinking Amazon, personally. But that might be a little too primal. Dunno how you feel about spears and pikes and guys heads being on them and all. If I remember Old Earth history right."

Which he did. Kirk was a closet history nerd if you ever saw one. He tried to keep it to himself of course. It would ruin his credibility if people knew he was a nerd.

"Oh, no. I can dig primal. Primal is doable. The first Slayer was like that--all war paint and pre-verbal. Not exactly keen on the pikes decorated with heads--more of a tasteful vase girl, myself. But primal? Well.."

That was her cue to shove off of Kirk's shoulders and attempt to free herself. Ordinarily, she wouldn't play quite so rough; however, Kirk's choice of words sparked a little raw inspiration in the girl.

Edited 2009-09-13 22:44 (UTC)

He turned quickly as she launched herself off his shoulder. Time to play it rough, apparently. Without even think about it his body had already moved into a battle stance with his hands up. Kirk learned to fight a long time ago, all Starfleet did was give him proper form. Of course he did fight dirty when the time called for it. Space helmets worked wonders on Romulans.

Rough? Absolutely. Buffy's grin was eager as she watched the Captain react so well. So speedily. And so...attractively. Fighting vamps was one thing--it was easy to stay focused when your opponent had the face-bumpies going on. An ogle-worthy guy from the future? A little more distracting.

To combat that distraction, Buffy started with an easy one. She passed off a very blockable elbow to Kirk's left side.

Easily blockable translated that Kirk didn't need to think about it. He blocked it with his own arm before turning slightly and snatching out to grab her arm.

Buffy would gladly let you grab her, Kirk; however, being her arm-candy comes with certain costs. For example, she wrenched her shoulder forward and put a piece of her strength behind an attempt to toss the Captain off. It was a rather small piece, though. She was very interested in assessing his abilities and finding out how far she could reasonably take him into combat.

The Captain turned to accept her strength into his body motions. With the arm in his hand he went to move her into a hold where he could pin her arm behind her. And hopefully then pin her to the ground.

With one arm pinned, she planted her heels and refused to be grounded. Not so easily, at least. Buffy chose instead to hold fast and press backward against Kirk, trying to be a brick wall for Kirk's strength to hit and break against.

One look over her shoulder and Buffy offered Jim an easy, affectionate smile even as she resisted.

That smile earned a grin as he moved his leg forward over hers and tried to kick her weight out from under her. Why wasn't the classes in the Academy this fun? Oh, right. The girls there weren't like Buffy.

You're right, Kirk. In fact, most other girls weren't like Buffy. Unless, of course, you visit her universe...where nearly two thousand girls are like her.

Her weight was kicked out from under her, but Buffy intentionally tangled her legs with his own. "If I'm going for a trip?" She spoke through gritted teeth, "--then you're coming along for the ride."

"Hey--!"

Kirk went forward in the mess of legs and landed on top of Buffy. He glanced down but sent a playful grin. He wasn't going to complain.

Buffy's chin thudded onto the ground; the smell of grass became heavy in her nose and she offered a quite grunt. It frustrated her that her ribs still felt delicate and tender with the pressure of another person above her. Still, he wasn't complaining and so neither would she.

"Funny,"--she mused while she twisted to find purchase on the ground--"we always end up in a tangle. What do you suppose that says about us, huh? That we're tangle-prone?" Purchase found, she tried to use her elbow to lever Kirk off of her back and onto his own, beside her. Two more seconds and she could be on top, pinning him.

He grinned as she pushed him back up. "Usually I end up in some kind of tangled mess. Females, in space, must be tangle-prone as you said."

With cheekiness stamped on her face, she pressed the heel of her palms firmly down against the captain's shoulders. "Right--I get it. So all this tangledness is your fault. Normally I'm a nice, normal girl and then wham, I get inside your personal bubble and it's tangle city. You must have some sort of weird radius effect because of being in space. It's the only solution."

She bit her bottom lip, suppressing the grin and attempting to retain a shred of seriousness.

"I get that reaction a lot. Must be the toned look of a captain in charge of a star ship." He teased. Buffy was always great to have a fun flirty conversation with. "You don't like my bubble?"

"Oh, no--" she began to insist, leaning in on her palms with a smile. "Your bubble's just fine. I approve, heartily. It's very...bubbly and bubble-like and I am much with the contentness, being inside of it."

"Better than it being square. Who has ever heard of a square bubble?"

"Not me, that's sure and certain. If a salesman comes by trying to sell a square shaped one, I'll pass. But a Captain shaped one? Oh, who knows. Persuasion just might take place."

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that icon--it slays me!

as well as all the stalkers of this post

hi stalkers /waves

sup stalkers o/

maybe we should have put out snacks?

hmm snacks...

maybe stalkers like chips and dip?

i need to eat, speaking of.

Grilled cheese! Always a good idea. Unless you're lactose intolerant. Then go with feta.

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