Ok, this is the K/S fic from hell that I can't stop thinking about, yet can't finish -- it's at nearly 10,000 words. I believe I've posted excerpts before. I last worked on it in August of LAST YEAR, so chances of it ever getting finished... oh, shit, I don't want to give up on this one, but... 25%.
“I didn’t become a doctor to patch you every time you goad someone into kicking your ass.”
Kirk rolls his eyes. “No, you became a doctor because you like desecrating the dead.”
“It’s called forensic pathology, kid. It’s been a year and a half of stubbed toes, phaser burns, and space herpes. Believe it or not, I like to exercise my brain every now and again, and we seem to have ourselves a genuine puzzle.”
Jim peers at him. “Just a puzzle?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No colorful metaphor this time? A barn burner? A pig in a poke? An ornery jackrabbit?”
no subject
“I didn’t become a doctor to patch you every time you goad someone into kicking your ass.”
Kirk rolls his eyes. “No, you became a doctor because you like desecrating the dead.”
“It’s called forensic pathology, kid. It’s been a year and a half of stubbed toes, phaser burns, and space herpes. Believe it or not, I like to exercise my brain every now and again, and we seem to have ourselves a genuine puzzle.”
Jim peers at him. “Just a puzzle?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No colorful metaphor this time? A barn burner? A pig in a poke? An ornery jackrabbit?”
“Suck my genteel Southern dick, Jim.”