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It was a stupid idea -- in retrospect -- making a bet with Kirk. Making /any/ bet with Kirk, let alone this one. But Sulu had entertained the momentary thought that, hey, maybe he had a chance of winning. Just maybe.

Except of course Kirk had won. That half of the bet, at least.

Which meant that Sulu was the one in the fucking miniskirt, and the one drinking ... he held up the glass and squinted critically at it, before taking a tentative sip. Whatever the hell this was. The other half of the bet involved not just dressing in the female cadet uniform, but getting away with it in public. He hadn't dared speak to the bartender, just made a vague signal that apparently had been translated into a request for a drink, except that Sulu had no clue just what he'd ordered.

Whatever it was, though, it was ... interesting.

Kind of like this evening. Sulu fidgeted, trying to get the skirt farther down his legs, with little success. But he seemed to be doing okay as a girl. As long as Kirk didn't --

"Hey, gorgeous."

-- find him. Crap. Sulu dropped his head, and then looked to the side, meeting the familiar bright eyes and smirk. He opened his mouth to say something -- possibly hi, possibly okay-you-win, possibly fuck-off, he wasn't quite sure -- but Kirk nudged his ankle and shook his head imperceptibly.

Keep playing, then. "Do I know you?" Sulu asked in an low voice, not quite certain of his role.

Kirk gave Sulu a slow, deliberate once-over, grinned wolfishly, and said, "After tonight, you will."

"Is that so." Now that he was talking, Sulu resigned himself to the fact that he still sounded like a guy to his own ears, but he wasn't getting any odd looks; apparently either no one could hear him yet, or he passed well enough for a low-voiced female. "Do I get a choice in the matter?"

Kirk leaned closer to him, one hand resting on Sulu's thigh just below the edge of the skirt. "You have plenty of choices." He was practically purring. The hand edged up, fingers slipping underneath fabric, just a hint of impropriety, and he was close enough to kiss.

And Sulu... well, he wanted to kiss him. Wanted to tongue-fuck the smugness right off that damn pretty face. Wanted to return the touch, to get his hands on Kirk's skin.

He held himself still.

"What if my choice is no?"

"Then I walk away," Kirk murmured, but he didn't look like he thought that was a possibility. He leaned close to the side of Sulu's face, nuzzled just below the ear, and whispered, "You are the prettiest fucking sight I have ever seen." He pulled back enough for Sulu to see the sincerity in his eyes, and then nibbled at Sulu's lower lip. "I have my own room," he said, and kissed him. "Back at the Academy." Another kiss; his fingers worked their way higher up Sulu's leg. "We could go there."

"And why would I want to do that?" Sulu asked coolly, even though his heart was racing and he was leaning into Kirk's touches.

"So that I can treat you like you deserve," Kirk said. His gaze was almost hypnotic as he started murmuring some of the things he wanted to do to Sulu once they were alone. Sulu closed his eyes, almost dizzy with the rush of desire. God, he /wanted/ it, so bad. And from the look of things, so did Kirk.

...almost like he had planned this whole scene.

Which he probably had.

Bastard.

No: he wasn't going to play. Not like this. Not Kirk's way; he'd make his own rules. The desire thrumming in Sulu turned into a giddy euphoria.

This was going to be /fun/.

"No," he said, clearly and loudly, his voice carrying over the ambient noise of the bar. People started looking at them, at him. They were probably going to notice that he wasn't female; he didn't care any more, even if it lost him the second half of the bet.

Kirk, for his part, was staring at him. Still smiling, but the smile was somewhat stunned. "What?"

Sulu grinned fiercely. The kind of guy Kirk was, he'd doubtless been shot down before, possibly even by people he was fucking regularly, but he transparently hadn't expected it from Sulu. Which meant that he was no longer in control. Sulu was. And it felt good.

"I said," Sulu repeated, "no. And get your fucking hand off my fucking leg before I break your fucking wrist."

"Aw, don't be like that, gorgeous." Kirk was back in flirt mode, of course, even if it was probably disaster recovery flirting. "I can't help it if you're so..." He licked his lips. "Touchable."

Sulu let his voice rise, in volume and pitch both. "Let me get one thing straight," he said. "I'm here for /my/ enjoyment. Not yours. I'm out to have a good time, and /you are not going to ruin that/. Now get lost before I do something you might regret." He raised one eyebrow at Kirk.

Kirk tilted his head, regarding Sulu. Trying to figure out what game he was playing, no doubt.

And oh God, Sulu still wanted to touch him, kiss him, grope him, fuck him into tomorrow; but the role he was playing was new, and he wanted to get a feel for it before Kirk did.

Almost at the same time, they both became aware that the bartender was standing right there, arms crossed, watching them. Watching Kirk. "I believe the lady told you to leave," the bartender said quietly.

"I believe it's none of your business," Kirk said. He turned back to Sulu and gave his best charming smile. "The lady and I have an understanding."

He stroked one finger along Sulu's jawline and across the line of his mouth, letting it rest for a heartbeat against the middle of Sulu's lips. And Sulu knew he was going to pay for it later, but for now, he went with the flow. Opened his mouth seductively, let Kirk's finger slip inside. Teased it a bit with his tongue.

And then bit down. Not hard enough to bruise or break skin, not even hard enough to hurt -- Kirk's yelp of "ow, /fuck/" as he withdrew his hand was probably more surprise than pain -- but hard enough to get his message across: I'm not that kind of girl.

Dimly, he was aware of someone starting to applaud. The bartender was glowering at Kirk. Someone -- Sulu couldn't see who, and didn't bother looking -- stepped up behind Sulu and put a hand on his shoulder, a momentary gesture more supportive than sexual. "You don't listen very well," whoever it was said to Kirk, in a voice that was distinctly female and also distinctly annoyed. "She told you to leave. Get lost."

Whoever it was stayed there until Kirk, throwing his hands in the air as a way of signaling that he was giving up for now, left the bar. Then she moved to the seat Kirk had vacated. She was dressed in civilian clothes, and the face wasn't one Sulu recognized, for which he was entirely grateful; someone who knew him would probably see through the charade. "Want another drink, hon?" she asked.

Sulu just nodded. He felt paralyzed by the fear that she would suddenly notice that he wasn't a girl, suddenly notice something was wrong. But she signaled the bartender for two drinks, sliding one to Sulu and downing the other. "Sorry about the Academy brat," she said. "They aren't all like that."

Sulu swallowed hard. "I know." He hesitated, and then admitted, "/He/ isn't always like that." Which, okay, he probably was, but usually it was because Sulu reacted with a bit more enthusiasm.

"Still. Nice going there." Her mouth twitched in a smile. "And he was right about one thing, hon -- you /are/ gorgeous." And then she was gone.

Sulu stared at the new drink -- another something that he had no idea what it was, a glorious clear ruby color -- and couldn't help the grin that slid over his face. Kirk was going to kill him for this, he knew, but he'd won the second half of the bet.

And he totally could not wait to collect his winnings.