Right Hand On My Heart

I Put A Spell On You

Kirk is pacing back and forth. It's been nearly fifteen minutes since Dave left with Lars and that scary blonde guy; fifteen minutes since Kirk called James. He's getting anxious, resorting to biting on his thumbnail as the seconds tick on by and there's still no sign of James or Dave coming to his rescue. A million nagging thoughts were floating around in Kirk's head at the speed of light. What if something happens to Dave? Can I really trust James to protect me? Do I even have a choice in all of this?

"I wish Marty was here," Kirk says forlornly, voicing his despair to no one. "Or Jason, or Junior, or Cliff... Anybody..."

He stops chewing on his nails and rubs idly at his arm, looking around his home as if he were searching for the people he trusted most in this world. Jason would tell him the cheesiest jokes to cheer him up, Junior would lighten the mood with one of his crazy stories, and Cliff and Marty would protect him like their lives depended on it. They'd be here for him in a heartbeat, no questions asked. So where the hell is James? What was taking him so long? Dave obviously trusts him, but he still hasn't shown and Kirk is starting to freak out.

The worst thing in all of this is that Kirk doesn't really know what he's even supposed to be worried about. Sure, two guys show up and take his lover away to have a little talk, but other than that Kirk was completely in the dark. He doesn't know about Menza or the money problem. Doesn't know that one of his close good friends might be a thief and is trying to sabotage Dave. Kirk's in the dark, only seeing what's in front of him a few feet ahead, and completely unaware of what lurks in the darkness beyond. He doesn't know that his days are numbered, much like Dave's.

Kirk eyes his cellphone on the coffee table as he circles it nervously. He put it there so he wouldn't feel compelled to call one of the guys and drag them into this horrible situation, but his resolve is crumbling fast. Kirk can't tear his eyes away from his phone. He's itching to call Marty, knowing that he'll come to Kirk's rescue even if it meant shutting down the club for the day and suffering Dave's wrath. But he'd do it. Marty would take a risk like that just for Kirk. His loyalty and love is unconditional when it comes to Kirk. Maybe it's unfair of Kirk to suggest taking advantage of Marty's obvious crush on him, but even if that wasn't the case Marty would still be here for him.

Regardless, it doesn't stop Kirk from picking up his phone even with all the other repercussions going through his head. He could get Marty in trouble with Dave and Dave would no doubt be pissed off at him as well, but Kirk is scared and alone and needs someone here right now. He unlocks the screen and goes to his contacts. He stares at Marty's number for a solid thirty seconds with his thumb hovering over the little phone icon. He's one click away from dragging Marty all the way down here when he hears a faint, familiar rumbling coming from down the street outside.

Kirk's breath catches in his throat and pauses briefly staring towards a window that overlooks the street. Kirk waits a few more seconds and the sound gets louder; closer. His heart stops the moment realization hits him and he practically throws his phone back onto the coffee table to peel out toward the front door. Kirk fumbles with the lock and knob, not bothering to shut the door behind him as it slams open. He bounds down the stairs taking two at a time and nearly twists his ankle once he gets down to the little terrace at the very base of the staircase.

All Kirk sees is a tall figure climbing off a motorcycle before he's lunging and throwing his entire body at the man. Kirk relaxes when arms come up around him to keep him from face planting in the concrete. Kirk buries his face in the man's chest, babbling and sniveling gratefully now that he isn't alone anymore. He doesn't even notice he has tears in his eyes until he calms down enough to peel himself away slightly to look up at his savior. The tears make his vision foggy, but the smell of cologne and motor oil is unmistakable.