Hello! Thanks for stopping by! I had a lot of fun writing this one-shot. It is inspired by a piece of awesome fanart, which can be found here: discoart. tumblr post/53967547884/if-u-ever-want-me-to-cry-just-say -reboot-jim-uhura (with no spaces). I'm posting this with the artist's permission, and you should definitely follow her because she does a lot of great work!

As far as the timeline goes, it's sort of unclear; however, I imagine this takes place after Into Darkness. I love Jim/Uhura friendship (which is what this is intended as) and I think it really developed through both movies.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!

Enjoy!

Jim Kirk breathed in the pleasantly-warm night air and released a satisfied smile. "The happiest place in the galaxy."

Behind him, Bones snorted. "Happiest place, my ass. With all of the sloppy drunks and failed—"

"The Iron Wedge," Jim said, ignoring his CMO with a sweeping arm gesture. "Welcome."

Before the group, lit up in cheap orange neon, the bar buzzed with early evening activity on what was an otherwise-empty street. A few patrons eyed the assembled cluster of odd personalities, but Jim paid them no heed.

"This," he continued, "is the stuff of a memorable shore leave."

He led the group forward like an over-eager tour guide, the grin never leaving his face.

Unlike in previous shore leaves, he'd managed to convince nearly everyone in his close crowd to join him: Uhura, Bones, Scotty, Chekov, and, at great lengths, Spock. Only Sulu remained behind, citing personal reasons due to the briefness of the leave.

Only one declined invitation, Jim thought. Pretty good for his usual record.

As they approached the entrance to the bar, Jim fell into step with the others and clapped a hand on his First Officer's back. "Do you smell it, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan wrinkled his nose slightly. "A most pervasive stench that seems to comprise of alcohol, sweat, and vomit."

The glee could not be contained in the Captain's face. "And the women, Spock." He raised a hand to his face in the traditional bon appetit manner. "The women."

Inside the bar, familiar thumping bass music pulsed through their bones. Humanoid creatures of all races milled about at tables, around the weakly-lit open floor, or, most commonly, at the long stretch of bar counter. The distinct sounds of continuous chatter and clinking glasses almost reached an equilibrium with the music.

"I highly recommend the Yridian ale here," Jim said, swinging back around to his companions and seeming as much at home there as on the Enterprise bridge. "Now, if you'll excuse me!" He winked devilishly at Uhura, then spun around and disappeared into the sea of intoxication.

Bones sighed and shook his head. "He'll be back. Just needs a bit of free reign for a while. Anyone care for a drink?"

The night deepened into a haze of conversation, drinking, and laughing. The multiple times Jim returned to his main landing party, he was pleased to see even Bones loosening up. Spock remained stoic, cradling a glass of what appeared to be plain water, but Spock was—Spock.

After about two hours—Jim wasn't concerned enough about time to pay much attention—the Captain found himself propped up against the bar counter, signature smile on full power, deep in pleasantries with an Orion woman.

"...and then I sat back in my command chair and told them to punch it," he concluded with an emphasizing hand gesture. "My First Officer wasn't too happy with me."

The Orion responded appropriately with a giggle. "Wow, I can't imagine...Captain of a starship."

"It's quite the beauty," Jim said mischievously. "However, sometimes I prefer more...grounded beauties."

Another soft giggle. Jim took a sip of his drink, eyes flitting up momentarily to seek out Uhura. The Lieutenant was sitting alone at the bar at the moment. With trained perception, Jim had seen her take a seat a few minutes before, and through his half-assed flirtation he had kept an eye on her. His instincts flared now as a bulky man sat beside her at the counter.

"How many planets have you been to?"

"Hm?" Jim wrenched his eyes from Uhura as the Orion woman prodded him playfully.

"I asked how many planets you've been to."

He attempted a grin, but his attention was now elsewhere. "Oh, you know. It's not really something I keep track of."

What he was keeping track of, now, seemed to be going sour.

"Will you excuse me?" he said, rising from his barstool.

The Orion's face fell. "Yeah, sure."

With as much sternness as he could muster, Jim shouldered his way down the bar counter to where his friend was sitting.

The situation had escalated quickly. As he approached, Jim noted that the large man was now hitting on Uhura incessantly, leaning closer and closer despite the Lieutenant's disgusted, downturned face.

Where in the hell was Spock?

"I told you, I'm not interested," she said, her mouth set in a hard line that Jim recognized as danger. "I'm involved with someone already."

"Then why are you at the bar all alone? A pretty little thing like yourself?" the man countered. He was the type whose head appeared too small for his body, his eyes too small for his head. However, even from a moderate distance, Jim could see the muscles bulging underneath the plain short-sleeved shirt.

"Hey," Jim said, figuring it was time to cut in. He smiled genially at Uhura, who relaxed instantly, then turned his attention to the other man. He kept the smile plastered on his face, but his features were hard. "Is this guy bothering you?"

"Nothing I can't handle," Uhura said pointedly, steeliness directed at the large man.

"This your boyfriend?" the man said with a sneer. "Seems a little shrimpy, doesn't he?"

Jim refused to back down. "What's your name, sir?"

"Alan," the other man said with an ugly upturning of his lips. "But the guys call me Crush."

Jim raised his eyebrows in mock fascination. "The guys? Yeah, that's very specific. Listen, Crush, I'm gonna need you to lay off of my friend, okay?"

"Got a problem with me, shrimp?" Crush asked. "You think I'm a threat?"

Luckily, Starfleet training had instilled a sense of coolness under pressure. However, despite everything he'd learned about dealing with stress, Jim felt the familiar stages of rage bubbling forth. Maybe it was the alcohol. "Someone as dim-witted as you? Hardly."

Then Crush stood, and Jim realized that the nickname he'd been given by the other man actually held water. The man was a veritable giant, towering at least a foot and a half over Jim's head, his pectorals alone creating something of an eclipse in the dimly-lit bar. Thoroughly dwarfed, Jim refused to give an inch.

"You're just jealous," Crush said, "because you don't have the balls to snag a catch like her." His fingers found Uhura's chin in a disgustingly loving gesture.

Just like that, Jim snapped.

His fist met the underside of Crush's jaw, snapping the other man's head backward.

Then, in an instant, he felt a hand tugging the front of his shirt forward.

Bad move, he thought, just as he was flung forward, face-first, into the unrelenting surface of the bar counter. His nose hit the edge and instantly the familiar tang of blood filled his mouth. Dazed, he tried to regain balance but was instantly seized again. A hand clamped firmly in his hair, his face was slammed forcefully down again onto the counter.

A buzzing now filled his ears, the ingrained instinct of fight back, fight back drowned out by the rush of a dizzying world. His arms wouldn't work, his mouth wouldn't open. Colors swam in front of him, edged out by a creeping darkness at the fringes of his vision.

Damn.

Then, without the time to react, he felt himself pulled up. One firm punch to the gut that left him wheezing, then one to the face that sent him flying backward what seemed like miles. His free-fall was stopped abruptly by a table, and he slumped down the leg to the floor.

Vision failed him for approximately two seconds—the analytical part of his brain told him that was a bad sign—and when he opened his eyes once more, Crush was facing him, the much larger man painted in sick glee.

Ready to finish the fight.

Jim sat, dazed, gaping at what would certainly be his demise.

In a flash, with solidarity that would undoubtedly be worthy of a heroic musical score in another circumstance, the Enterprise crew swarmed. Scotty and Chekov leapt into action, appearing on the scene so quickly Jim could have sworn they'd been transported. They flanked Crush with grim fury, tackling him to the bar counter.

But not before Uhura socked him a bone-quaking punch to the face.

Jim watched in hazy fascination as the three of them attempted to subdue the man, delivering blow after blow with speed and precision that would have made their professors proud.

Then he passed out.

It wasn't long after that he came to, roused by the pounding of feet and shouts around him. He remained awkwardly slumped against the table leg as he forced his eyes blearily open. Three figures were converging; squinting against a throbbing headache, Jim was finally able to make them out as Bones, Uhura, and Spock.

Bones was the first to reach him. The doctor dropped to his knees and whipped out a tricorder, muttering obscenities under his breath. Then Uhura was there, skidding down to her knees, and Spock followed to a crouch.

"Captain…" Spock began.

Jim blinked a few times, disjointed awareness registering that Uhura now clasped one of his hands in both of her own. "Holy shit, he hit hard." The last stages of ferocity flared inside of him, and he surged upward weakly. "Did he stop hitting on you?"

Uhura smiled, eyebrows crinkled upward in a strange mixture of concern, relief, and appreciation. "He's taken care of."

Bones guffawed. "More like Uhura decked him, and he was too shocked to do anything. Scotty and Chekov were pretty furious, but it was that Vulcan nerve pinch that finally did him in. Damnit, lie still—"

Jim sank back down. "It's not my first bar fight, Bones."

Spock cut in. "Captain, while I appreciate your efforts to defend Nyota in my absence, it was unwise to provoke one of such superior strength—"

"What he's trying to say is thank you," Uhura said softly, squeezing Jim's hand. She looked directly at him, the glimmer of gratitude deep in her brown eyes. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Jim wheezed. He leaned his head back against the table, wiping some blood off of his face with a free hand while Bones rummaged worriedly through his small emergency kit. "But, next time? Let's try somewhere else for shore leave."

Thanks, as always, for reading! If you liked this and feel like making my day, stop by and leave a review!

Speaking of Tumblr, if you're interested in seeing random Star Trek/Sherlock/Lord of the Rings posts, stop by and say hello at pennflinn. tumblr . com (with no spaces!).

Again, thank you so much for the read!

Till next time,

-Penn