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kirk-says-wah · 1 month

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𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

Pairings: Kirk/Lars, James/Dave, Rob/Jason

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It’s about midday when he finally gets the strength to leave the house.

It’s icy, the windows frozen shut along the seal, water droplets skating down the insides.

Lars pulls his biggest jacket on, shivering as the leak of cold air into the flat starts to wind under his skin.

Dave’s already in the living room, eating a bowl of god knows what, bare feet crossed underneath him as he sits on the ratty couch.

“Aren’t you gonna eat breakfast?” Dave mumbles as Lars goes past, mouth full.

Lars grimaces, bends to pull his sneakers on.

“Breakfast was hours ago,” Lars says, knowing full well he didn’t eat anything. He just doesn’t feel like it these days, belly full of lead, weighing him down when he’s trying to keep afloat.

Dave mumbles something around the food in his mouth but Lars ignores him, ties his shoes up before grabbing his scarf from the armchair.

“Where are you going?” Dave shoots, eyebrow arching.

The thing is, Lars doesn’t have anywhere to go. But he can’t stay here, cooped up in this grimy flat, the stench of stagnation and dirt too much for him to just laze away on the sofa. And it may be cold outside, but it’s not much warmer in the flat anyway right now.

“Out,” is all he says, before grabbing his keys, stuffing them in his back pocket. “Lock the door behind me.”

“Okay, mom,” Dave retorts, a bubble of laughter escaping his chest.

Lars pays him no mind and instead opens the door, closing it behind him as he makes his way into the stairwell.

The wind outside is knocking against the glass at the end of the hall, the frost spidering up the glass panes.

He shivers, skips down the first flight of steps, slowing as he rounds the next landing, only to be stopped by a tap on his shoulder.

He jumps, turning to see a young woman. She looks about his age, long blonde hair, pink shapely lips, soft face. She’s hot.

“I think you dropped these,” she says, holding up his keys with her middle finger, the rusty metal dangling between painted nails. They’re red. It’s a nice colour.

Lars blushes, stammers a thank you as he takes the keys off her. He puts them in his jacket pocket this time so they don’t fall out so easily.

She smiles at him, showing her teeth, all white and perfect, and something in Lars stirs awake. It’s like when he’d first been able to get groupies. Something in him comes alive at being wanted, at someone looking at him the same way he’s looking at them. It’s different from the way Kirk looked at him. His former lover always looked at Lars like he was his whole world, like his very being had been made just for Lars, like there was no one else. The girl’s gaze isn’t as intense as that, and Lars finds he kind of likes not having the pressure.

“Do you live here?” she says, voice sweet.

He clears his throat, embarrassment lining his cheeks, makes him crimp his fingers into his sides, stiff. He’s never been awkward talking to girls, not since high school, and especially not now after being on tour for so long. But a part of him has changed, has him recoiling slightly at the notion that something more could happen between them. He blames his parents.

“22,” he says, shrugs slightly with a bashful grin. “I live at 22.”

“Oh I live at 14,” she says, pointing to a few doors down the corridor, hair lightly falling over her shoulders in waves, like spindles of wheat, glinting slightly under the light from the window.

Lars doesn’t exactly know how to reply, so he just nods, eyes darting to the side when she meets his gaze. It’s not that he’s nervous, well, no okay, maybe he is, but it’s not from the lack of practice. He doesn’t know what’s come over him in the recent weeks since that fateful night he had to leave home. Home being Denmark. It’s like all the charisma and confidence he’d spent so long to build has been swept away in a hurricane, his whole life turning upside down as he returns to a world he thought he’d left long ago.

“I’m Sally,” she says, holding a hand out, pointed nails reaching out a lifeline.

Lars shakes it without thinking about it too much, her hand warm and soft in his grip.

“Lars,” he says, offering a wider smile now.

She hums, letting go of his hand, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“You can come find me anytime, I’m always free,” she says, her eyelashes fluttering, cheeks tinted pink.

“Do you not work?” Lars finds himself asking.

She suppresses a laugh, has Lars feeling a bit stupid.

“I work from home,” she replies, voice thick and runny like honey.

“Oh,” is all he says, moving to mess with the keys in his pocket.

She looks over him for a moment before reaching out to squeeze his hand. The unprompted contact nearly gets him pulling away, but he doesn’t want to be rude.

“I’ll see you later, Lars” she says, emphasising his name before she turns, heels clacking against the mouldy tiles as she disappears down the corridor towards her flat.

Lars lets out a breath, his lungs punching against his chest. He sniffs, starts to descend the flight of stairs quietly.

She was nice, he thinks, but he can’t help but feel a little reserved. He’s not exactly looking for anything right now, but he wouldn’t be against having a bit of fun. He’s not had sex in months, and it would be nice to just let off a bit of steam.

He snickers to himself, hopping down the last few steps as he gets to the main entrance before letting himself out.

The weather is cold and wet, trickling rain like a broken faucet, and he wishes he had a coat. He zips his jacket up, stops for a moment, unsure which way to go. If he’s going to find anything interesting, he may as well head towards the high street.

It’s so cold, he can practically feel icicles hanging from his nose as he treks into town, wishing he had a pair of gloves on him as his fingers turn pink and numb, even from within the confines of his jacket. He tucks them under his armpits instead to get a bit of feeling back, but he knows it’s no use when the wind keeps whipping him with enough power to nearly knock him over.

Maybe going out wasn’t such a good idea.

He just needs to get warm, that’s all he can think of as he meanders up the street, in search of anywhere he can disappear into.

There’s a couple of shops up ahead, and he sees a sign with a big vinyl on it, sticking out onto the path.

Huh. That definitely seems like his kind of shop. He remembers a few years back when Kirk had been smitten on opening his own record shop. He never really had the funds, so it was more or less a pipe dream. He figures Kirk must go here a lot though, and for a moment he feels light trepidation that he might bump into him there.

It’s not likely though. Kirk probably works, and it’s like lunch time so it’s not like he’s gonna be spending his lunch break at some vinyl store.

As soon as he approaches it, Lars slips in quietly, the door bell jangling as he’s finally hit with a bout of warm air.

He shivers, fingers turning blindingly hot at the change in temperature, nose red and watery as closes the door behind him.

The shop is empty apart from someone looking over the jazz section. He’s a tall guy with a long overcoat, and he doesn’t pay any attention to Lars as the latter rubs his hands together to try and get the blood flowing.

There’s Christmas decorations haphazardly strung up, a tree in the corner with blue and red lights. It makes Lars wish he’d been able to decorate the flat, but he doesn’t have the money to buy decorations when they’re so expensive.

He dismisses the thought, quickly makes his way over to the metal section, a big sign scrawled in yellow and red chalk followed by some original pressings hung on the wall, labelled over a few hundred dollars a piece.

Lars excitedly runs his fingers over the expanse of records, forgetting how much he loves shopping for vinyls. He left all of his back in Denmark where they’ll be no doubt thrown out, so he contemplates maybe starting up a new collection.

Dave has the original first ever pressing over their two albums, though they live with him mom so it’s not even like Lars will be able to play them any time soon.

He misses the feeling of the covers in his hand though, the smoothness of the shaped vinyl, just waiting to be played.

His stiff fingers flick through the stack, landing between loads of old school metal bands like Iron Maiden, Slayer, Anthrax, Judas Priest. It makes his head go all warm and fuzzy. It’s obvious the owner of the shop is a metal fan if the whole row of rock is anything to go by.

Lars smiles to himself, picks up a copy of Orgasmatron, turning it over in his grip.

The jazz guy walks past him to the counter, his long coat billowing at his feet.

Lars knows he doesn’t have the money to buy anything right now, not when he can’t even afford rent and doesn’t have a job. It makes him wish that the interview at McDonalds will go well, otherwise he’ll be back out looking for another job and he just can’t afford the time.

“That’ll be $35,” comes a voice from behind the counter, and Lars freezes. He knows that voice, could place it out of a thousand.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He places the record carefully back where it belongs before briefly glancing at the counter.

Kirk stands behind it, bagging up the record for the man paying, offering a slight customer-service smile before the man walks away, leaving just the two of them in the shop.

Lars pretends to not see him, regret snaking its way up his ankles into his stomach because why couldn’t he have just stayed out in the cold?

He sniffs, wiping his wrist over the wetness that’s gathered under his nose, feeling slightly frostbitten.

When he looks back up, Kirk is staring at him, stock still being the counter, eyes wide, disbelieving.

Lars blinks before giving a small smile.

“Hey,” he says, though it sounds meek and feeble. Kirk stares at him for a moment longer.

“Hey,” he eventually replies, thought it sounds thick on his tongue, the interaction painful.

Lars steps away from the records, stuffing his hands back under his armpits in an attempt to keep warm.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he finally says, nodding at the store.

Kirk clears his throat, obviously nervous. Lars doesn’t think there’s anything to be nervous about, but then he realises there’s been something unspoken between them for years, and it makes guilt squeeze his throat, has him fighting for air.

“I own it,” Kirk says, shrugging bashfully.

So he did make his dream happen after all. Lars would be lying if he didn’t say he was proud. Kirk had prattled on about opening his shop for so long Lars guesses it’s only a matter of time it happened. He wonders what else Kirk has done without him.

“S’nice,” Lars replies, dropping his gaze, unsure of where to look.

It’s awkward to say the least, but Lars finds he doesn’t want to leave. Not when they’re finally reaching out to each other after three years.

They may have left on bad terms, but Lars isn’t against making up with him. They were best friends before lovers after all, and he misses him. He does.

“Thanks,” Kirk says, moving from behind the counter, picking up a crate of vinyls from the floor.

“D’you wanna help me put these away?”

Lars blinks, taken aback. He guesses Kirk is holding out a lifeline, and he’ll be damned if he didn’t hold onto it with everything he’s got.

“Sure,” he says, accepting the pile of records Kirk gives him when he settles the crate back down on the floor.

Kirk smiles, though it’s reserved. Lars wants to tell him how much he’s missed him but he doesn’t. Doesn’t want it to be thrown back in his face when he knows it was his fault they split. It’s his fault any of this even happened.

The pulse behind his eyes starts to come back but he ignores it, putting the records where Kirk points at them to go.

“So err..” he begins, unsure of what to say. “How have you been?”

He feels stupid; even more stupid when Kirk looks at him for a moment like he’s grown a second head.

“Um-.. good,” Kirk says after a moment, looking away, gathering some more records from the crate. “You?”

Lars suppresses a laugh, because no, he’s not doing great right now.

“Shit,” is all he says, not really feeling like covering up the truth. Kirk’s never been one he could lie to; on their last day together it was hard to do so but he ended up doing it even though he knew it would hurt him.

Kirk laughs, all breathy and light, pressing a few records into the shelf.

“I didn’t expect to see you in here,” Lars says, if only to reassure that he didn’t come in on purpose. He doesn’t know why he has to state that, that he didn’t actually seek Kirk out. Maybe it’s so he can believe it’s true.

Kirk looks over him, brown eyes a whirlpool of longing and sincerity.

“I didn’t expect to see you in here either,” he says, passing Lars some more records.

Theres hands briefly touch, and it’s like lightning shoots up Lars’s arm, has him longing for the touch as soon as it’s passed.

He looks at Kirk, really looks at him. He looks the same as he did all those years ago, still a smooth jaw and wispy hair, except on closer inspection he’s shaved the sides underneath. It looks cool, Lars wonders how long ago he got it.

“Are your band playing any time soon?” Kirk pipes up, sorting through the records.

“We broke up,” Lars declares, not willing to give any more details.

“Oh,” Kirk says, like he wasn’t expecting it. Lars wonders how much Kirk knows about the band, if he knows it didn’t exactly live up to everything he’d been dreaming it would be.

“I err-… I’ve got a gig next week.”

Lars’s eyebrows raise, taking his eyes off the shelf.

“You’re in a band?”

“Kind of. It’s nothing serious,” he says, looking away, lifting the crate back off the floor. He’s obviously downplaying it, and Lars would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued.

“Can I come see you?”

He regrets it as soon as he says it, feels stupid, like he’s just spilled his guts, slicing him from his belly to his neck, all raw and guttural.

Kirk looks at him for a moment, startled. “Of course,” he says, smiling wide, obviously taken aback but excited nonetheless. Mangled teeth peeking between thin lips, unable to pin down.

Kirk had never been good at keeping his emotions at bay; like a tidal wave, always delivering mass destruction whether he was happy or angry, always stewing in silent determination that always seemed to play havoc with Lars’s own emotions. Kirk never loved plainly, he never loved without feeling everything. That’s probably one of the reasons they grew apart. Kirk always loved Lars with everything he had, and Lars.. well he didn’t know how to say I love you with anything but words. He’s not prudish, in fact he’s quite the opposite, but he could never dish out his heart like Kirk could, could never offer it up on a platter. Maybe a part of him was scared. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

He never showed Kirk how much he loved him as much as he should’ve. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to walk away when Kirk got down on one knee because he knew Kirk would’ve believed him. He would’ve believed that Lars didn’t love him as much as he did. As much as he does.

“You look cold,” Kirk says, gesturing to his pink nose.

Lars shrugs, his hands diving back into his pockets.

“I walked here.”

Kirk rolls his eyes, walks away to put the crate behind the counter.

“You do realise a storm’s about to hit right?”

And no, Lars didn’t know that because he doesn’t check the weather. You’d think he’d be used to the cold, spending most of his Christmas’s in Denmark, but he’s so scrawny that the icy winds always seems to make him freeze so much that he can’t warm back up.

Lars shrugs, sniffing, eyes tracking Kirk’s movements.

“Why didn’t you just drive?” Kirk asks, like it’s the most obvious thing, scribbling something down on the pad of paper by the till.

“Well, one I don’t have a car,” Lars says, “and two I had my licence taken off me.”

Kirk stops writing, eyebrows raising into his hairline as he looks up at Lars.

“What for?”

“Speeding.”

Kirk snickers, continues writing before dropping the pen on the counter.

“Why am I not surprised.”

A light easiness over takes them then, the atmosphere softening into something familiar and tangible, and Lars tries to keep a hold on it, tries to wrangle his way back into some kind of relationship, whatever that may look like.

“It’s not my fault everyone drives so slow,” he says, grinning, and Kirk rolls his eyes, sticking a sticky note to a pile of papers.

“D’you want me to drive you home?”

Lars blinks, scratching at his jaw. He’s unsure whether to accept the request, doesn’t want to move to fast in case they end up falling out.

At Lars’s hesitance, Kirk presses on.

“Cmon, I can’t let you go back out in that,” he says, gesturing to the weather outside. It’s starting to rain now, fat globs of water pelting against the shop window, and Lars would be lying if he said he wanted to go back out there.

“Aren’t you working?” Lars asks, cocking his head.

Kirk shrugs, already grabbing his coat from the door behind him.

“Lunch break. I can close the shop for a bit. Jason won’t mind.”

Jason? Who the fuck is Jason? Lars feels jealousy simmer in his gut, because what happens if Kirk’s moved on with someone else? Lars doesn’t blame him, it’s not like they’re gonna get back together, but it still hurts.

“Alright,” he says finally, though he doesn’t really feel like he has a choice.

Kirk smiles at him, lips splitting into a grin before he turns the open sign over gesturing for Lars to follow him.

Lars does, pulling his coat tighter around him as the rain starts to pelt at his back as soon as he steps foot onto the street.

Luckily, Kirk is only parked a few doors down. His car’s a beat up Prius, needing a new paint job, and Lars can’t help the pang at his heart at the sight.

They used to own a car together, a really lovely Honda with white leather seats and a crystal keychain hanging from the rear view mirror. Lars guesses Kirk must have sold it. He doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t blame Kirk if he moved out from their old home either. The memories are just too painful, tying them both to a past that takes up way too much space in Lars’s heart. He knows he’ll never be able to have Kirk but that won’t stop him from longing for him.

Lars gets into the passenger seat, pushing aside a thin jacket and some cans on the floor.

“Sorry it’s a mess,” Kirk says, blushing, not willing to look Lars in the eye as he starts the engine. “The only excuse I have is that James was in here recently.”

That sounds about right. Lars giggles, letting himself sink into the chair as Kirk pulls out onto the road.

The silence is palpable, thin, fragile. Lars would like to think there’s something else though, like hope. Maybe Kirk’s willing to work on their friendship too, otherwise why else would he have offered to drive Lars home.

Lars wonders if they’ll ever be able to move on from what happened without speaking about it. Probably not.

He can still picture the ring, the little diamond encased in a thick silver band, the box black and velvet, small in Kirk’s hand. He remembers Kirk looking up at him from the floor, the words will you marry me falling from his lips as he peers up at Lars hopeful, nervous.

And he remembers clear as the day the absolute heartbreak on Kirk’s face when he’d told him no.

It still makes his chest twist, has him swallowing down nausea, the thrumming in his head getting more painful. He wonders if the memory is like yesterday for Kirk too, if getting in this car together feels like the first time in days rather than years.

At the same time, Lars is aware of their time separated, like a tape reel that just keeps going, all the times they should’ve spent together was instead spent alone.

He misses him. That’s the truth. He doesn’t know why he’s so stuck on it, why after all these years he’s still pining for someone he’ll never have.

He decides he should probably get over it. Maybe find someone else. Maybe that girl he saw in his building. Sally or something.

“So er..- how’s Dave?” Kirk asks, interrupting Lars’s thoughts.

“A pain in the ass,” Lars says, the tips of his ears hot as he tries not to feel too awkward. The car is hot, despite the frostiness outside, and the anxiousness starts to get to him. “Can we put the radio on?”

“Sure,” Kirk says, leaning forwards to press the on button, a random rock station starting up, prattling on about the new Judas Priest album.

“You up to anything interesting this week?” Kirk asks, feigning nonchalance. Lars can tell he’s nervous because his cheeks are pink, stammering over his words slightly as he taps along the steering wheel.

“I’ve got a job interview.”

“Oh yeah?”

“At McDonalds.”

“I heard the pays good,” Kirk says, clicking the turn signal as he turns onto a new road.

“I hope so,” Lars says. “It’s so fucking hard to find a job.”

“That’s probably because you’ve never worked before,” Kirk says with a smile.

“Hey, I had that job at the laundromat in twelfth grade.”

“Yeah for like a week,” Kirk says, glancing at him. “I don’t think you can put that on your résumé.”

Lars laughs, unzipping his jacket, his fingers now finally warm.

“Well I hope it goes well anyway,” Kirk continues, finally turning onto Lars’s road.

Lars wants to ask how Kirk even knew the way then realises he had came with James the other day. At least things seem to be a bit less awkward this time. Almost like they’re finally starting to bridge the gap between them.

They pull up to Lars’s flat in silence, Lars zips up his jacket, the rain still pelting outside.

He feels hesitant to get out, like he wants to spend as much time as he can with Kirk.

Kirk turns off the engine, finally looks at him. He looks so young, face shadowed by the trees hanging over head, a warmth to him that Lars has missed.

Lars clears his throat, hand fidgeting with the door handle.

“Thanks,” he says, though it comes out small, feeble.

“Don’t mention it,” Kirk says with a slight shrug, his attention turning back out into the rain.

Lars wants to say something, wants to apologise, for what he’s not sure. Kirk’s staring at him again as if he expects Lars to say more.

Instead Lars just gives a small smile before getting out, shutting the door behind him.

God he is way too hung up on Kirk. If he wants to build on their relationship, he really needs to sort himself out.

He turns in time to give Kirk a short wave before he drives away, leaving him standing on the path feeling desolate and empty, like he’s saying goodbye all over again.

He sighs before heading inside.

— —

The rest of the day goes by uneventful, and before Lars knows it it’s late and he’s still stuck in front of the tv, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

Fuck he needs to get out of his head.

The tv’s playing an old episode of Family Fortunes though he’s not really paying attention, the noise in his head too loud.

He gets up with a stretch, back popping, feeling a bit woozy as all the blood rushes to his head.

His headache’s dulled enough for it to just be knocking against his skull lazily, and he yawns, shuffling to the kitchen, socked feet snagging on the floor boards.

He peers into the fridge. It’s empty, aside from a few cans of bud. Closing it, he sniffs, opening the cupboard doors to find fuck all in there too.

God he needs to buy some actual food.

He rummages a few minutes between different cupboards before finally pulling out a packet of crackers.

They’re leftover from the flight, but they’ll do.

He fills a glass with water before padding back into the living room, flopping down onto the armchair with a huff.

He downs the water in one before eating the crackers. They’re salty and dry and just make his stomach rumble more but he guesses it’s better than nothing.

He glances over to the note left on the coffee table, Dave telling him he’s going to be late home.

He checks the clock. It’s already seven o clock. He wonders how late Dave means. And if it actually means he’s going to the bar after work. It’s not like he can afford it so Lars hopes not.

He grumbles to himself, turning up the volume on the tv as he throws the cracker wrapper to the floor, uncaring and messy.

He smacks his lips, lets his head fall back against the cushion

He thinks back to the woman in the hall, all blonde hair and slim legs. He imagines what her lips would feel like, if she’d be all soft and pliable, if she’d be rough with him, having her own way.

His cock stirs. Shit.

He can’t help it, his palm snaking down, pressing into the lump forming in his jeans.

He swallows. At least Dave isn’t home. Not that he wants to think about Dave right now.

He gingerly lifts a little before stuffing his hand down the front of his pants, his cock slowly starting to harden in between his fingers.

Jesus, when was the last time he got off? It’s definitely been a while. He smirks to himself, thumbing over the head of his cock just to make his hips twitch.

When that’s not enough, he pushes his pants down, pulling his cock out of his boxers, his balls feeling heavy and taut.

He hisses as his whole fist encloses around his hard flesh, twisting his wrist with the movement.

He goes back to thinking of the woman, how she’d look on her knees, his cock pressed into her mouth.

He groans, speeding up his hand, hips thrusting.

He closes his eyes, imagines threading his hand into long blonde hair, how hot her mouth will feel, gliding up and down his cock as he fucks her face.

He speeds up, close now, panting harshly, when suddenly the woman morphs, blonde hair transitioning to black curls, face familiar, soft, cute.

Lars is too far gone to stop, the image of Kirk kneeling whilst he thrusts his cock into his mouth a memory more than a fantasy, and he comes, painting his fist, panting harshly.

Suddenly he feels dirty, like he crossed a line. Sure, he thinks about Kirk during sex all the time but now that they’re trying to patch things up he feels like he’s violating him in some way.

He curses himself, reaching for some tissues off of the grimy coffee table, cleaning himself up before throwing the tissue on the floor next to the cracker packet.

— —

Lars wakes with a start.

He snorts awake, the sound of his phone ringing bringing him back into the land of the living. He’s still sat in the arm chair, jeans abandoned on the floor as he lies in just his boxers.

From the silence he guesses Dave must not be back yet.

He blinks, picks his phone up to see an unknown number calling. He rolls his eyes, lets his phone fall back onto the arm as he stretches, yawning widely.

His phone stops ringing and he grabs the remote, trying to flick through the tv for something good but there’s nothing that interesting on this time of night.

He checks the time. Midnight.

Damn, Dave wasn’t kidding when he said he’ll be back late.

He contemplates just going to bed when his phone rings again.

Something nags at him, has him picking his phone up. No one rings this late, not unless they’re important.

Maybe Dave’s in trouble. He really doesn’t want to be bailing him out again.

He presses answer and holds it up to his ear, nerves tight.

“Hello?”

“Lars?”

Lars frowns, alarm stirring in his gut.

“Kirk?”

If Kirk has his number, he must of gotten it from James or Dave. He wonders what’s so urgent for him to be calling, not just because of the time.

“Are you okay?” he asks when Kirk doesn’t respond right away. His hearts in his throat as he waits for an answer, Kirk’s uneven breathing sounding from the other side.

“Something’s wrong.”

Lars sits up, turning down the volume on the tv.

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

There’s a pause then, and Lars fears the worst. Maybe he’s hurt? Maybe he’s drunk?

There’s a sigh on the other side, shaky but there, before Kirk finally replies.

“James is missing.”

#metallica #metallica fanfiction #bleeding me #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #kirk hammett/lars ulrich #kirk/lars #lars ulrich smut #lars ulrich #kirk hammett #james hetfield x dave mustaine #james hetfield/dave mustaine #james/dave #dave mustaine #james hetfield #megadeth

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captainofthestrangestship · 2 years

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Now that I have watched “The Search for Spock” I once again must share my thoughts on the wonderful outfits in the movie.

Of course we begin with Bones’ outfit. Pretty great outfit for this movie, still giving cowboy vibes and I like the jacket. Also love that he wears scarfs. Haven’t topped the white outfit from the first movie but its a good addition.

However the real star of this movie in terms of outfits is Sulu. Man is looking damn fine in this get up and I really like the blue colour. Love that Sulu is also a bit of a fashionista. The jacket is great and so dramatic, it’s kinda like a cape. Also the scene of him blowing up that console was great.

Uhura’s outfit is nice. I like the colour and who doesn’t love a statement necklace? Though cant say much about it since she only wears it for one scene :(

Though poor Chekov has literally a terrible outfit, don’t like the colour, and the collar is terrible.

Kirk’s outfit is literally nothing to write home about. It’s literally the closest thing he could get that is just wearing a starfleet uniform without wearing the uniform. The pink shirt makes me smile though.

However, shoutout to this jacket, the colours are nice. Though I definitely thought it had a bell on it for the zipper.

Spock’s robe for the ritual or whatever happened at the end of the movie was also good. Pretty dramatic, just like him.

Though super sad Scotty still doesn't get an off duty outfit :((((

#star trek #the search for spock #first time watching #I love all the vulcan robes in this movie though #Cant believe that vulcans also have the triforce #Also the 80s vibes that every single outfit gives off is great

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kinetic-elaboration · 7 months

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November 5: End of Con

I spent the weekend at virtual KiScon and tomorrow I have to go back to the real world and I'm so discombobulated about it. I had a really good time, and it was nice to totally immerse myself in fandom conversations and watch parties and so on, but it is kind of a hard come down. I was expecting that, though.

This upcoming week is going to be weird and I hate thinking about it. I probably shouldn't. Tomorrow I'm going to work as usual, but then I really do have to go shopping afterwards and I don't much want to do that. Not gonna lie. Tuesday I'm off for election day but I have to vote and then I'm getting updated vaccinations in the afternoon. Wednesday we'll see how I feel--I'm a little worried that the answer will be 'bad.' Then somehow it's the end of the week again.

Last year, I had a great time at KiScon but all the inspiration I felt after Saturday got cancelled out by Sunday, where I mostly just felt really intimidated (I didn't attend Friday events because I was at work). This year, I still feel that desire to create, though it's quite vague. I wrote a little Kirk/Mitchell ficlet yesterday, which I loved doing, and since the con ended I've been looking at yarn for a nice K/S scarf. I'm serious about doing it this year! I'm gonna do it!

Troped announcing an end to events the same weekend as the con feels... very interestingly timed for me personally. I'm still a stubborn bitch who doesn't want to give up on her old WIPs and ideas. But...

But what? What would I do? Where would I go? Do I want to go fully into K/S again? Would I even be able to? I don't know. The truth is that I probably have enough on my WIP list to keep me writing for years without having to come up with a single additional new idea so I really shouldn't worry about running out. I've been writing for about 25 years and I haven't run out of ideas, you know? There's just a sort of haziness to the future that I can't define.

Maybe this is just me reacting to having stepped out of reality for 3 days. Now I'm facing a return to... everything. Work. Trying to fix my sleep schedule. Writing I said I would do. An apartment that... needs work. A November that's bizarre. Holidays coming up.

I realized during the con that I still think of myself as 'someone who watched all of TOS recently and is totally well-versed in all of it and full of detailed memories' but actually it's been a year and a half since I finished TOS, and about 3 and a half years since I started the rewatch. Time really just keeps moving, huh?

#the year 2023 #2023: rl

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cheer-deforest-kelley · 3 years

Text

This is the amazing day I met DeForest Kelley on the set of Star Trek V: The Final Frontier.

My boss was friends with a woman who worked on a few of the Star Trek movies. He introduced us and told her of my love for DeForest and she invited me to the set when De was filming.

I could not take photos as it was a closed set, but it didn’t matter as everything I saw was burned into my soul.

In late December 1988, I drove through the gates of Paramount Studios and parked right by the Star Trek Production trailer (Trailer 12). My head spun as I walked inside and was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the making of a Star Trek movie. While sitting in my friend’s office, a voice on the walkie-talkie said that Bill and De were in their dressing rooms. My head exploded.

My friend walked me to the stage that was the Enterprise bridge and I got to sit in Captain Kirk’s chair (my feet didn’t touch the ground—literally and figuratively). I saw Director’s chairs with the names William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and DeForest Kelley embroidered on the backs. I would have loved to sit in De’s chair, but all I could do was touch the arm as we walked by.

The Stage Manager told us that Bill was on the New York street set, so we left the stage and walked to an outside set with a high stage. When we arrived, Bill was being strapped into a harness (which fit around his torso, waist and crotch and which would allow him to be lifted into the air). His legs were bare and very white (he was wearing gym shorts). He was making jokes and talking in a very high pitched voice as they tightened the straps around his nether region.

I forgot all about Bill when I heard a voice on a walkie-talkie say that De was stepping out of his trailer and would arrive in a moment. My heart started pounding and I started feeling very warm (it was 49 degrees outside— which by the way, is considered freezing for Southern California). I turned around and saw DeForest Kelley ambling towards me. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a dark green sweatshirt, a light blue jean jacket with a fleece collar, black cowboy boots and a multicolored scarf around his neck.

Tears welled up in my eyes. De said hello to a few people, hugged my friend and she then walked him over to me. She told him my name and said where I worked. De shook my hand for a very long time (eventually just holding my hand rather than shaking it) and called me a spy because I worked at different studio than Paramount. He commented on how cold it was and lifted his sweatshirt up to his chin to show us a fleece-lined shirt that a fan from Seattle made him. He was very charming and chatty; I said a few sentences but was mostly mute (just call me Gem).

After a few minutes, he said it was great to meet me, shook my hand again and went to talk to Bill (who was now wearing sweatpants with yellow stripes and a blue uniform tunic that was unlike their usual uniforms). They talked for a while, laughed a lot and then hugged goodbye. Bill (being the Director) had to leave to watch a previously filmed scene— he was driven away. Suddenly all the commotion on the set just stopped and much of the crew left, however De stayed.

He came over to talk to us again (OMG!!) and said “It’s always hurry up and wait.” I responded “That’s showbiz.” He laughed (thank God) and said “That’s right, you know it!” I found my voice this time when he asked about my job. We talked for at least 10 minutes— discussing the cold weather again, his being a little sad that production on the film was almost done (You’re sad De? Let me hug and console you.) and what we were respectively doing for New Year’s Eve. For De, it was was “Absolutely nothing except kiss my wife before midnight since we don’t stay up that late.”

A man holding a humungous binder came over and said he needed De. De said “Bye now” and left (sob!!). Of course I kept my eyes glued on him. After he conversed with the binder guy, he talked to some crew members, but when they left, he stood alone for about 5 minutes, during which he smoked two cigarettes (he had a very nice lighter). He looked around and found a random Director’s chair and plunked down in it (he first pounded the chair with his fist, to make sure it was sturdy-- it was an old looking chair).

Bill was gone for over an hour (lucky me). I was free to wander around the set, but I mostly stayed close and kept an eye on De; he talked to the crew, left once (potty break?), read a magazine and smoked-- sad to say he constantly smoked. He once looked over at me and gave me a big smile.

When Bill returned, they were ready to film the scene when Kirk falls from Yosemite’s El Capitan and McCoy berates him. There was a publicity photographer taking pictures of everything, including this scene (which happened to be printed in a magazine and is my first picture posted here).

The Assistant Director called for De, who stood up and unbuttoned his jacket. A woman appeared and De closed his eyes as she touched up his make-up and combed his hair (I wanted to comb his soft hair). Two big burly men then lifted De (by his outstretched arms and butt) onto the elevated stage; they lifted him so high and hard, he literally flew into the air before landing on the stage on one foot-- he caught his balance and then turned back to them laughing with his eyes wide. They both laughed nervously and said “Sorry De.” He told them they were very strong.

On the stage was the bottom part of El Capitan made out of fiberglass. At the time, not knowing anything about the story, it just looked like a huge rock surrounded by dirt, boulders and trees. There were screens surrounding the stage that looked like blue sky with clouds.

They connected wires to Bill’s body harness. He was lifted just off the ground and then quickly hung upside down where he swung around loosely. De came over and bent down with his face very close to the upside down Bill and they spoke quietly between themselves; De then stepped back and Bill called “Action!” Kirk said “Hi Bones, mind if we drop in for dinner?” and laughed like he was a little drunk. De took a step forward, bent down and McCoy started yelling at the slightly twirling Kirk. Kirk patted McCoy’s ears and squeezed his cheeks, laughing and making little noises. They quickly filmed the scene twice. The first time went fine, but the second time, they both began laughing and De said to the upside down Bill, “Kiss me.” They quickly kissed on the lips (I know, I know!!) and the entire crew cracked up. Bill called “Cut!” and someone else yelled “Lunch—45 minutes.” De said goodbye to the crew, got into a car, lit a cigarette and was driven away.

I had to get back to work. I walked (floated actually) to my car and drove out of the studio gate, ecstatic that one of my wildest dreams had come true.

A month later, my friend gave me my very own Final Frontier cast & crew jacket (similar to the one McCoy wore in the campfire scene), a photo of the cast & crew (Leonard’s and De’s smiles are absolutely adorable), some Star Trek notecards and a cast publicity photo.

Sorry this is so long. It’s taken from a note I typed up when I got back the the office that day. I didn’t want to forget a thing.

#deforest kelley #dr. mccoy #star trek #captain kirk #william shatner #Star Trek movie #star trek v: the final frontier #behind the scenes #watching Star Trek being filmed #de in person #I have DeForest Kelley’s DNA on me #bucket list item checked off

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remythologise · 3 years

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Top ten au fabrics?

@monalisssasandmadhatters I’m obsessed with you. counting down from ten we have:

10. rachel’s jacket from ‘the one that could have been’. now I don’t like friends etc. etc. etc. but we’re NOT here to rate television we’re here to rate fabrics and this stunning fluffy yet smooth fabric is bold magenta brilliance with delightful textured variation on it. does lose marks for being in shot next to a fat suit.

9. alternate universes are rife on supernatural so we have plenty to choose from! let’s start with a trendy little scarf number from jared padalecki. what’s going on here! lovely detailing and colour and matches really well with his blazer and handkerchief. I’d wear this scarf!

8. cordelia’s simple yet sexy dress - really lovely colour and a pleasant shine! sometimes fabrics that aren’t too complicated get the job done spendidly.

7. I hate everything about this character and this route. however you can’t deny the kind of fabric that seems to have a mind of its own and kills your enemies in a creepy sexual tentacle way AND makes your boobs look great. anyway congratulations sakura winner of worst girl over fifteen years running

6. the star trek 2009 crew uniforms. these are actually far preferable to the other ones they made them wear in later films because they tried to copy tos and I’m a big fan of that vs. trying to do a new uniform thing where everyone looks the same. we want BOLD PRIMARY COLOURS not uniforms with little stripes! grow up!!! put on some expensive replicas of cheap looking polos!

5. natasha stark’s wedding veil. absolutely lovely delicate thing somehow attacked to full uniform iron man suit without tearing. you know there’s some serious engineering and design going into the weave. this little doozy saved the entire superhero community from civil war. now THAT’S an efficient scrap of fabric!

4. yasss queen slay!!!! your enemies!!!! cut their throats! a MAGNIFICENT costuming choice by star trek discovery and really great work all around - but we’re here to rate the fabrics specifically. This armour on the star trek mirror universe empire works really well, beautiful, delicate work and stunning detailing. However it DOES look a little too costume-y and fragile for any actual defence against weaponry.

3. a truly indisputably iconic look coming into the top three. do I even need to say it? literally sold unit after unit after the episode. raw power of an Outfit Choice! the knit is particularly nice and the pattern bold yet not too obvious when worn as a piece of fandom merchandise. mishapocalypse now, mishapocalypse forever

2. in strong contention for first place on this list, kirk’s incredible shiny vest from ‘mirror mirror’. ladies you CAN have it all (be incredibly evil and have the best outfit at mardi gras). unlike the mirror stuff from discovery we’re not even trying to be functional - mirror kirk says just TRY to stab me. I’m not going to hide behind armour or even sleeves. now THAT’S a man to be afraid of!

1. lucifer’s mismatching cream and white. the devil IS in the details and the details are the devil annoying you with this clean yet slightly off look. the fabrics LOOK cheap and synthetic but also miraculously expensive at the same time. tremendous character work in a costume and the best lucifer we ever saw on the show. thank you mr edlund!

#ask #kira for ts #sadie #the joke here is that sadie tried to send me an ask about fics but she is so notoriously bad at typos. that. well #long post for ts

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gothamsworst · 3 years

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Can I please have my favourite big boys kirk and victor with someone who made them an winter scarf or hat as gift victor doesn't really need it but the idea was kinda cute in my head-

also I was wondering if we are allowed to claim anon names- like i would like to be ice anon but if not I respect that too

Have a nice day!✌

Absolutely! Anon names are cool w me. (Also this is the first time I’ve gotten to write for “The Batman’s” Mr. Freeze!)

The Batman!Kirk Langstrom:

Kirk is such a small, scrawny guy that the hat and scarf just swallow him up. He looks like a hobo (or, even more like one than he normally does). Meanwhile, they just barely fit on Man-Bat. Not that he needs them, considering how fluffy he is, but he still looks really fucking cute.

The Batman!Victor Fries:

Please imagine just winding the scarf around his suit’s helmet. And the hat just sitting on top of it. He looks ridiculous. (And adorable.) And sure, he might not need them, but he’ll still wear them out of the suit. After all, you went through all the trouble of making them for him. It’d be rude not to.

#ask #dc #batman #gotham rogues #the batman #batman 2004 #kirk langstrom #manbat #mr freeze #victor fries #scenario #cute #fluff #sfw #anonymous

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dw-writes · 3 years

Text

Snowballs for Shore Leave - Leonard McCoy x GN!Reader

WOO! So, the lovely @writerdee1701 thought to suggest ""If you throw that snowball, you’re declaring war” with McCoy?" for a holiday request! And this came to mind!! I hope you guys enjoy it!! Please let me know what you think! ( @outside-the-government here is some wholesome Bones for you!)

The planet was COVERED in snow, something that seemed to be part of a seasonal pattern similar to what you’d see on Earth. And, given the time that the Enterprise arrived at said planet, it was perfect – it was nearing those wonderful winter holidays, and everyone aboard was itching for some shore leave to relax and pretend that they were home.

You were part of the first group down, along with Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty. The Russian bounded out into the snow with a laugh, and jumped into the first snowbank he saw, disappearing from sight. You smiled as you fixed the scarf around your neck and tugged the stocking cap down over your ears.

“Ya know, I’ve got an idea,” Scotty said as Sulu dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back. He started working on a snow angel.

You looked over at Scotty. Pulling your earmuffs over your ears, you asked, “What idea?”

He grinned. Grabbing Sulu from the ground, Scotty dragged you both over to the snowdrift that Chekov was wiggling free from. You four whispered, and plotted, and worked on your plan.

When then the next landing party came down, consisting of Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Commander Spock, over half of them were immediately pelted with snowballs. The three men ducked when the onslaught came, and Kirk – laughing – pulled his closest friends to a previously man snow fort. They knelt behind it just as a snowball whizzed overhead.

“Are you kiddin’ me?!” Leonard shouted.

You peeked over the snow fort you hid behind with a wicked grin. “Dr. McCoy!” you innocently called, “I didn’t think you’d be coming down already!”

“Bullshit you didn’t, darlin’!” he yelled back. McCoy settled back against the snow with a grunt.

Kirk glanced around, noting the two carefully made piles of snowballs, how long and tall the fort was, and the slightly trampled snow angel off to his right. “They put some work into this,” he said.

“I don’t mean to sound ignorant, Captain, but what is the significance of all of this?” asked Spock. He ducked his head as another snowball flew over his head, and someone on the other side of the fort shouted.

“It’s all in good fun, Spock,” answered Jim. He picked up a snowball and tossed it in his hand. “Celebrating the winter season.” He held the snowball out of Bones.

The doctor took it with a bitter scowl. “I hate snow,” he grumbled. He scrunched up in his coat, thankful he had worn the waterproof gloves. “It’s too damn cold.”

“Snow is frozen water, Doctor,” said Spock as he picked up a snowball, “I thought you would know that by now.” Kirk leaned back as Bones threw the snowball at the side of Spock’s head, nailing the Vulcan in the ear. Spock only blinked. Somewhere out in the middle of the battlefield was the sound of someone beaming down, and another round of snowballs were hurled at the newcomers.

Uhura ducked behind their fort with a gentle swear, laughing as she shook the snow off her coat. “I don’t remember the last time I had a snowball fight!” she exclaimed, curling up as tight as she could behind the wall.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one,” Kirk replied. He motioned to Spock. “But, uh, your boyfriend here has already become a casualty to the war.”

She gasped. “By who?”

“Me,” replied Bones.

Another ball sailed overhead, exploding against a nearby tree. Leonard ducked despite being covered.

“Leonard,” you sang, “C’mon, join in!” Your voice was dangerously close. He peeked around the wall to see you squatting behind a tree.

“If you throw that snowball, you’re declarin’ war!” he shouted.

You winked, then threw the ball you held in your hand. It narrowly missed his head. Ducking behind the wall, Bones exchanged looks with his friends. Uhura scooped up a ball and stood, throwing it in the direction of the fort across the field. Kirk jumped up with a loud battle cry. McCoy lunged for the trees. You squealed at the sight of your boyfriend coming for you and turned tail to run. It was too late, though: he tackled you into the snow with a grunt and you two rolled. He managed to pin beneath him.

You puffed as you stared up at him, chest heaving. He grinned. “You thought you could best me? Really?”

“I thought I’d try,” you said with a smile. You lifted your arm and smacked a snowball against the side of his head. “Gotcha.” His face was priceless – eyes closed, mouth wide, snow dripping down his cheeks. He rapidly shook his head, slinging snow over you as well. You laughed. He wiped the rest of the snow off his face and stared down at you. “You know,” you sighed as the giggles passed, “It’s nice to see you like this. Relaxed.” You pushed your fingers through his wet hair and over his pink ears. “You should do this more often.”

“Relax or get caught in the middle of a snowball fight?” he whispered. You watched him lower himself closer to you.

“Relax,” you replied.

He thumbed a melted piece of snow off your cheek. “Maybe,” he murmured. He tilted your chin up and pressed his cold lips against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

Not even an hour in, and this shore leave was already proving to be your favorite yet.

#leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy/reader #leonard bones mccoy #leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy x reader #leonard bones mccoy/reader #star trek #star trek aos #karl urban #holiday fic #toss a queue to your witcher

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Christmas Across the Stars

Summary: A backlogged mission on Jotunheim means Piper's going to miss Christmas with her family this year. At least she's not completely alone.

Written for @the-emo-asgardian's 'Tis The Season Writing Challenge on the prompt "snowed in and unable to get to family"

Word Count: 2,938

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: *wipes sweat off brow* whew! For a while I wasn't sure if I was going to get this done in time for Christmas. But here it is! I've been writing a lot of angst lately, so it was really nice to write something sweet and fluffy for a change. I did try to keep Piper somewhat vague as a character, but there's a lot of me/my family traditions in this story, so for that reason I decided to make it an OFC rather than a reader-insert. Hope you don't mind.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and your families, and I hope you all have a healthy and fulfilling New Year! Thanks for reading! :)

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

Read it on Ao3!

She had been staring at the stone ceiling for nearly three hours when Piper decided enough was enough. Abandoning the thick, itchy blankets and the naïve dream of getting some sleep tonight, she reached for her boots.

One of the annoying things about life on Jotunheim (and there were many) was the inability to do a damn thing without first putting on fifty layers. Her nylon jacket rustled as she pulled it over her arms, zipping up with an obnoxious squeak. Across the room, Olsen popped up in her bunk.

“Wuzgoinon?” she muttered, opening a bleary eye.

“Nothing,” Piper said quickly. “I’m just going for a walk. Go back to sleep.”

Olsen hummed, head dropping back to the pillow. Her other two companions didn’t stir. Piper sighed and grabbed her scarf and hat.

Her footsteps echoed against the rocky walls as she made her way to the bunker entrance. They weren’t supposed to go outside alone, what with being stationed on an unpredictable alien planet and all, but the blizzard that had been raging on for the past two weeks had finally seemed to pass and Piper could use a breath of fresh air.

The frozen hellscape greeted her with it’s usual chilly slap to the face. She coughed, bringing her scarf above her nose. When they had first arrived, the cragged mountain cliffs had hypnotized Piper. They stretched far above the horizon, their jagged silhouettes cutting through the paint-splattered sky like a crooked dagger. It was a severe kind of beauty, unlike anything Piper had ever seen before.

Now, it felt like the serrated ridges were laughing at her.

Piper sat down against the bunker door with a grunt, rubbing her hands through her mittens. What was she even doing out here? What had she expected to find? Despite her day-long daydreams, the bitter wishes she stored deep in her heart, her reality had not changed: she was a tiny ant of a person, trapped on this icy rock of a planet, sleepwalking her way through this drawn-out farce of a mission.

What a way to spend Christmas Eve.

When she had signed up for this job, it had been an adventure. Traveling across the stars to a world that until recently had only existed in myth, to test out technology that would allow for interplanetary travel? Move over, Captain Kirk. Piper Bassow was boldly going where no (human) man had gone before.

The mission had supposed to last for six months. They left at the beginning of February, wide-eyed and excited for the enterprise. They had planned to be home in August. Then something came up, some snag with the tech back on Earth, easily fixed but it disrupted the schedule. Their return date was moved to October. No problem, Piper thought. We’ll still be back for the holidays.

Then, a blizzard knocked out their antenna. Again, easily fixed, but they had to wait for the wind to die down before they could risk going out to fix it. Disrupted the schedule. Now their return date was end of November.

We’re still fine, she told herself. Thanksgiving is a shit holiday anyways. Who cares if you miss it?

The final communication from SHIELD was what did her in. The last three months of data had gotten corrupted. They needed to stay until February. Piper had been on radio duty when she got the message. Instead of replying, she dashed the receiver against the wall.

It was immature. She had signed up for this mission knowing full well that there was a high chance that things wouldn’t go as planned. In fact, she should’ve been thankful—out of all the things that could have gone wrong, this was pretty innocuous. Everyone was safe, everyone was healthy, they had enough rations to last over a year. There was no reason to be this upset.

But … the reality that she was going to miss Christmas with her family this year was tough to grapple with. Christmas was a big deal. Her siblings and her had all long since moved out, but they still all flocked back by December the 24th, where they’d stay up all night stuffing their faces with their mother’s butter cookies and arguing over which movie to watch as the piney scent of the Christmas tree wafted through the room. No matter where they were in the world, they found a way home.

But Piper supposed she wasn’t anywhere in that world anymore.

She huffed, pulling her hands closer against her chest as the wind whistled on. Christmas had been the one thing she had been working towards all year. Feeling homesick? You’ll be home with everybody for Christmas. Getting frustrated with one of her teammates? By Christmas you’ll have forgotten they exist. Blizzard outside wrecking her day? Just think of all the stories you’ll have to tell everyone over Christmas dinner.

And yet, here she was, Christmas Eve, freezing her ass outside on this godforsaken ice cube.

“What are you doing out here?”

Piper nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped around to find their Jotun guide looming over her with a frown. Nearly a year of companionship with him had proved that Loki Laufeyson was hardly the malevolent villain the rest of her world believed him to be (SHIELD wouldn’t have put this mission in his hands if he was), but something about his presence still unsettled her. He said very little, choosing to skulk in the shadows and reappearing only when he deemed it absolutely necessary. It never failed to amaze her that a living creature could move so quietly—you never realized he was besides you until you turned around and he was there.

Piper tried to pull herself to her feet, but with all her extra padding she just rocked around on the ground. Her face burned.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms and scowling up at him. I guess I’m staying here for a bit. Where had he even come from? She was leaning against the bunker door—it hadn’t opened since she’d been here. “What are you doing out here?” she asked accusingly.

Loki motioned his head towards the boulder pile behind the bunker. “We were getting some odd readings from the east. I thought I should check up on it.”

“Oh.” Piper peered through the ice, but she couldn’t make out the sensor that was supposed to track the movements of Jotunheim’s celestial satellites. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded, gaze unflinching. “I believe an animal disrupted the apparatus. I righted it.” Cocking his head, he frowned. “So is there a reason you’re sitting outside in the middle of the night in the dead of Jotun winter, or have you just finally gone mad?”

Piper let out a breathy laugh despite herself. She leaned her head against the stone door. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.” He sounded neutral enough, but Piper was fairly certain he was judging her.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she added quickly. Glancing at her watch, she added, “Or Christmas Day. I’m not sure.” There was another annoyance about Jotunheim—the time difference was catastrophic.

“Oh,” Loki nodded again. He didn’t move. She frowned. What was he waiting for? Perhaps he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“It’s a holiday,” she explained. “On Earth. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” For a moment, the two of them were silent, Piper staring out into the snow, Loki staring down at Piper. She waited for him to walk away, but he didn’t budge.

She sighed. “Do you need something?”

“You are upset.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were plain as day. Piper’s embarrassment came flooding back.

“No. It’s not—” she inhaled. He was right. She was far too upset. “I just—I thought I’d be home for it.” Her eyes were burning. Piper leaned her head back against the door in frustration. Was she seriously crying over this?

“Oh.” Surely he’d leave now, now that he knew that nothing was actually wrong. She shifted to move her weight from against the door so he would be able to return inside. But to Piper’s surprise, he didn’t leave. After a moment’s hesitation, Loki sat down next to her with a grunt.

“I’m afraid my knowledge of Midgardian tradition is rather lacking,” he said as he made himself comfortable against the door. “Christmas is a religious holiday, yes?”

Piper stared. It took her a moment for her to find her voice. “Oh, um, yeah—” she stuttered. “Technically. But not everyone who celebrates it is super religious. Like, I don’t think anyone in my family has gone to church in their life.”

“What is it you celebrate then?” He leaned forward, seeming genuinely interested

“I don’t know. Family. Giving. That’s what they call it, the season of giving.” Geez, she sounded like the star in a Hallmark movie. “My family always had a big get-together every year. Or, has—I guess they still are this year, I’m just… not there.” Her voice trailed off pitifully. Piper forced a smile, desperate to show him that she wasn’t completely pathetic. “But it’s fun. We have cookies and chocolates and everything and we decorate the tree and give each other presents—”

“Pardon me,” Loki interrupted, perking up. “What do you mean ‘decorate the tree’?”

“Oh, yeah.” Of course he wouldn’t know what she was talking about. “It’s a Christmas thing. You get a pine tree—some people have fake ones, my family always goes to a farm to get one—and you put it in your house, and you decorate it with lights and ornaments and stuff, and then you put the presents for everyone under the tree.”

That was another thing she missed this year. Usually, whoever was in town with her parents for Thanksgiving would drive out with them to the Christmas tree farm the next day to help pick out a tree. That was always an adventure—her mom would be scurrying between the lines of trees as the rest of them rushed to follow her, pine needles attacking them mercilessly from both sides. Piper’s mother was a perfectionist in every aspect of life and picking out a tree was no different. They’d spend hours circling the farm, listening to her as she found a flaw in each one they came across.

“The shape of this one is just too wide. Far too dry. Oh look, there’s a hole right in the middle! That one’s beautiful, but it’s so tall, I don’t think it would fit in our house—”

Eventually, she would find a tree that came close enough to her standards (“well, this one has a bare side, but we’ll put it up against the wall so no one will see it”) and Piper would crawl under the thing with the shitty saw they got at the front and go to work, her two sisters bouncing around like cheerleaders at a football game when the tree finally came crashing down.

Piper suddenly realized that she wasn’t going to get to see this year’s tree.

Besides her, Loki sounded lost in thought. “That sounds like Yule.”

She turned, frowning. “Yule?”

“An Asgardian holiday. We decorate pine trees as well.” He sighed, almost wistfully. Piper had never seen him this relaxed before. “It’s probably where the Midgardian custom comes from.”

“Oh, yeah.” She thought she had heard that once, that a lot of Christmas traditions had come from the Vikings, although she had never made the connection between that and Asgard. It made sense—wasn’t Loki straight out of Viking myth? “What do your tree decorations look like?”

Loki hummed. “We had special enchantments on the trees to create the illusion of glowing orbs of light within the branches. You couldn’t touch them—your hand would go right through.” He laughed. “It drove my brother mad when we were little. On more than one occasion he knocked down the whole damn tree trying to grab the light.”

Piper grinned. “That sounds like our cat! We have these little glass balls that are like, multicolored, and he’s always trying to bat them down. My mom wakes up to find ornaments all over the floor. One time he even managed to get the star” That cat’s a little shit and he knows it, she’d tell Piper on the phone. I can’t wait til you guys get home. He’s always on his best behavior for you.

Loki was staring at her quizzically. “The star?”

“Yeah. You put the star at the top of the tree, and it lights up. It’s like a topper ornament. I’m not sure where that comes from.” Piper sighed. “I hope they’re able to get it all set up this year. I’m usually the one who does the lights and the star and everything.”

“I’m sure they’ll manage.”

“Yeah.” Of course they would. The idea that they couldn’t manage without her was nothing but wishful thinking on Piper’s part, a tiny, selfish little part of her that wished they were as lonely and miserable as she was. “It’s just—” she inhaled. “I’ve never missed Christmas before.” Her fingers were going numb under her mittens. She rubbed them against each other.

She could feel Loki’s eyes on her, studying her as she blew into her hands. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, but the silence felt more analytical than judgmental.

“You should go inspide,” he finally said. “It’s far too cold out here for you to just be sitting still.”

He was right, but still Piper bristled. “I’m fine.”

“Please.” He stood in one fluid motion, holding his palm out to her. “If you freeze to death out here, SHIELD will find a way to blame me for it.”

“I—” Her pride screamed at her to keep protesting, but the biting wind was picking up, cutting under her coat and piercing her bones. She couldn’t help the shivers, even as Loki shot her a pointed look.

Piper sighed. “Alright.” She took his hand (how was he so warm?!) and allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her inside.

…

“Bassow! Bassow, wake up!”

The shouts rattled her skull as she pulled herself from deep within the recesses of sleep. “Hng?”

She was face down in her bunk. When had she even gone back to bed last night? She had been talking to Loki …

It was Medoff who was yelling her name.

“Come on, you’ve got to see this!” her teammate shouted in her ear as she shook her arm.

Piper groaned, pulling herself from the warm cocoon of blankets she had wrapped around herself at some point in the night. Her head was pounding. What time is it?

“See what?” she muttered.

Medoff yanked her out of bed, seemingly trying to jerk her up. “You’ve just got to see it. You won’t believe it otherwise.”

It was too cold. Piper ripped her blanket from her mattress and followed Medoff through the bunker hallways with it wrapped around her shoulders like a cloak, head lost in a sleepy fog.

“Is this really that import—” she trailed off when they reached the common area. The table where they took their meals had been pushed into the corner, but that was hardly what rendered her speechless.

There was a tree. A great, big, beautiful evergreen tree, with needles of emerald green, more vibrant than any Piper had ever seen on Earth. Kaleidoscopic orbs floated amongst the branches, slowly shifting through the colors of the rainbow before her eyes, held to the tree by chains of silver light. And on the top … it was a star, but comparing it to the plastic things Piper would haphazardly wrestle to the top of her Midgardian Christmas trees felt like a crime. It was as if someone had plucked one of the celestial bodies from the night sky and just fixed it at the peak, sparkling so bright it was almost blinding.

For a moment, Piper just blinked. “What—how—”

“We don’t know!” Olsen laughed from the table, where she was sitting with Wynn, the final member of their team. “We just woke up a few minutes ago, and it was like this! Isn’t it insane?”

“I mean, it is Christmas Day,” Wynn said. “Back at home, I mean. I guess Santa made it to Jotunheim after all.”

“Yeah. Santa.” Coming to her senses, Piper glanced about the room. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the most enchanting Christmas tree in existence magically appeared in their bunker mere hours after that conversation. She found him lurking in the hallway, watching them all from afar. Loki met her gaze, and Piper suddenly realized his eyes were the same brilliant green as the tree.

The biting homesickness that had been festering in her heart was still there, but it was beginning to fade, as if someone had wrapped it in a warm blanket. She smiled. As her colleagues continued to chatter over the tree, Piper made her way over to the Jotun prince.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It was hardly an unpleasant task. I thought I might enjoy indulging nostalgia for a day as well.”

The changing lights from the tree cast a mystical glow to the desolate bunker, sparkling across the stone walls. It was like living within the Northern Lights. Hesitantly, Piper reached to put her hand on his forearm. “Merry Christmas, Loki.”

At first, he stiffened, but after a moment, he returned her warm smile. “Merry Christmas.”

#christmas across the stars #loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #christmas fic

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Laughing and Knitting - Jim Kirk (AOS) x Plussize!Reader

Summary: You have the biggest crush on Jim but he doesn’t seem to feel the same. After years of having no contact, you see him again.

Request by: @morganofthecoves1 “Hello! Would it be possible for you to do a Kirk (aos) X plus size reader??? If so could you do like a super fluffy image/one shot where Jim and the reader went to the academy together and sat next to each other in one of their classes. They became fast friends, Jim acting like a dork around the reader, always hugging her and telling jokes to make her laugh. Maybe they don't see each other for a long time and then the reader starts to work on the Enterprise. Anything really. Thanks” --> I hope you like it! Enjoy <3

A/N: I forgot how much I love writing Star Trek imagines! This was so much fun!

Words: 2853 Pairing: Jim Kirk (AOS) x plussize!Reader Warnings: fluff fluff fluff and some insecurities

„James Tiberius Kirk, late as always.”

You looked up from your notes when the seminar got so suddenly interrupted. Your professor leaned against his table, arms crossed, a disappointed – yet not surprised – look in his eyes as he stared at Kirk who had just tried to sneak into the room.

Your classmates gave each other amused looks, some chuckled. This happened at least twice a week.

The blonde cadet let go of the door handle and slipped into the room. “Would you believe me if I told you –“

“No,” the professor interrupted him. “No, I would not. Now sit down. There are some people left in this class who take their education seriously. Even though you are sadly not one of them.”

“I’m very serious about my education, Professor,” Kirk replied with his usual smile on his lips and walked towards one of his friends who was sitting in the first row and looked just as disappointed at him than the professor did. Was it Coy? McCoy? You were sure that you had spoken to the man before but couldn’t quite remember his name. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have skipped my morning shower and my breakfast to get to your class, right?”

Some people laughed, you rolled your eyes. It was almost a miracle that Kirk was still allowed to attend Starfleet Academy.

“In that case you can stay right there,” the professor simply replied. “No shower equals no place in the first row,”

Right there meant your row, you realized when Jim turned towards you – and even worse, it meant next to you. Oh god.

James or how his friends called him, Jim, Kirk started attending Starfleet Academy the same year you did. You had noticed him already on the first evening when he boasted to everyone who would listen that he would be Captain of a Starship in only three years. Granted, this happened after five beers in a student bar in downtown San Francisco. Nevertheless, the arrogance of this guy made you hate him. There were other people, people like you, who had studied hard to get into this program and someone like him just showed up and got accepted? It made you furious.

Those feelings didn’t last very long however. In fact, the anger turned into a full-size crush pretty soon. After a few weeks you got to see his other side – his funny, charming, always-a-smile-on-his-lips side. He still annoyed the shit out of you, don’t be mistaken, yet you couldn’t help but laugh when he cracked another one of his jokes in class.

Kirk was fully aware of his effect on women. At least, it always seemed that way. So his reputation was quickly established. He flirted shamelessly, changing his girlfriends faster than his underwear. It was one reason why you never acted on your feelings and preferred to watch him from afar, being content with your daydreams staying daydreams. The other reason was your fear of rejection. Kirk would never go for a woman like you. Not because of your looks – your rolls and curves weren’t making you less attractive. Quite the opposite actually, you knew how to flaunt them. Feeling comfortable in your body was something you had worked hard for and one man’s opinion wasn’t going to destroy that. No, the women he dated or even just hooked up with were … fierce. They were exciting and knew what they wanted. You couldn’t keep up with that and were convinced that men like Jim Kirk didn’t notice you. You simply flew under their radar.

“May I sit here?”

You flinched and nearly dropped your pen at the sound of his voice. “Yeah, sure.”

Kirk didn’t move. After two seconds passed you looked up at him, a confused look on your face. He furrowed his brows when you didn’t react and the confusion grew. Then he finally bent down, grabbing your jacket that was still on the chair next to you and handed it to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Your face grew hot and you quickly tucked the jacked away in your backpack.

“Don’t worry,” he sounded friendly and you were sure he was smiling again. However, you were still embarrassed and kept your gaze focused on the presentation the professor presented to the class. “I’m Jim,” he continued.

“I know,” you mumbled and instantly regretted it. Why was your brain not able to come up with proper responses?!

Jim chuckled. “Of course you do. My name just got announced to everyone.”

Sure, that was the reason.

You cleared your throat and finally turned your head. Leaning against the back of the chair, legs spread out, he seemed more than comfortable. He looked directly at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. “I’m Y/N,” you finally introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Jim held out his hand with a big grin.

You let out a nervous breath of air, concealing it with a soft chuckle, before you shook it. “Nice to meet you, Jim.”

***

Two days later …

It was raining like someone was emptying buckets outside. You sprinted the whole way from your dorm to your classroom and practically fell into your chair, completely out of breath and soaking wet.

“Rough morning?”

To your surprise, Jim was already sitting next to you. You looked at your watch. Were you late? No. “You’re early,” you stated.

He shrugged. “I’m always one for surprises.”

“Did you miss your shower again?” You asked when you got out of your jacket.

“What?”

“No shower equals no place in the first row,” you quoted your professors and used the sleeve of your pullover to wipe away the raindrops from your face.

“Oh!” Jim exclaimed and laughed. “No, no. I just like the view I have from here.” He winked at you.

You blushed and quickly bent down to rummage through your backpack so he wouldn’t notice it. The last time he sat next to you, the two of you hardly spoke. You were too nervous and didn’t know what to say. He occasionally commented on the lecture and caused you to laugh at the most impossible times but nothing more happened. You thought that was it. Your one chance to talk to him, to act on your crush and you were too shy to do so.

Apparently that was not it.

“Your scarf is great.”

“What?” You looked up at him, thinking you misheard.

Jim pointed at your neck. “Your scarf. Did you make it?”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks growing hot again not sure if he was joking or not. You had knitted the scarf last year when you visited your parents home and were quite proud of it. “Yes, actually. I sometimes … make things.” You made things? Damn, your ability to articulate yourself was on point today.

“It looks great, seriously.”

“Thanks,” you smiled softly.

Then the door opened and your professor strutted in, a cup of coffee in his hands. “Good morning everyone!”

***

Two weeks later …

“What’s that?” Jim asked when he sat down, curiously eyeing the package on his table.

You shrugged, playing dumb. “Who knows. Open it and see for yourself.”

You barely finished your sentence when he ripped it open. “No way!” He exclaimed so loudly that two students in front of you flinched. “That’s so cool!”

You smiled widely as you watched him pull out the scarf. It looked similar to yours, except for the darker color.

“You made that?” He asked you and put it on immediately.

You nodded, feeling flattered.

“Thank you!” It sounded so sincere and he looked so happy, you were taken a little aback by it. All of a sudden, he leaned in and pulled you into a tight hug. “No one ever made anything for me.”

***

From this point on, the friendship between the two of you developed quickly. Soon you sat together in almost every class. You met up for lunch and study sessions. He crashed on the floor in your dorm more than once when was locked out of his room again and even had dinner with your parents when they came to visit you once.

Of course, nothing more happened. As you had suspected – men like Jim Kirk didn’t go for women like you. He never made a move, never gave you any clue that he was interested in you. So you didn’t say anything either. You stayed quiet, enjoying his company and his stories that never failed to make you laugh. The feelings didn’t go away, no. If anything, they grew stronger with every day you saw him and he pulled you into a tight hug. Jim was extremely touchy – hugs, grabbing your arms, touching your hair, it was all a normal part of being his friend. You didn’t mind though. Quite the contrary.

Your friends declared you crazy after a few months. “How do you put up with this?” or “Do you enjoy suffering?” or “Doesn’t it make you feel miserable?” were common questions. You didn’t have answers to any of them. Being around Jim never made you feel miserable. Of course, you sometimes wished you were brave enough to ask him out, to make a move. You dreamed about him realizing that you were more than just a friend to him and confessing his love to you.

It never happened though and you respected it. So you kept quiet and enjoyed the friendship between the two of you. If this was all he could offer you then you gladly took it.

***

Three years later …

It was your first day on the Enterprise. You walked into your room, tired, exhausted, happier than ever. You still couldn’t believe it. When you received the call and they told you that you’ve been accepted, you were convinced it was a prank call. It wasn’t. Starfleet wanted you to transfer to the Enterprise, the most prestigious ship in the entire fleet. It was by far your proudest moment in your career.

After you changed out of your uniform and into something more comfortable, you fell onto your bed, sinking into the soft pillows. As you let the day pass by in your mind once more, you smiled. The crew had been great, welcoming you with open arms. You already loved your job and were excited to officially start the next day.

Would he you see him tomorrow? The thought crossed your mind all of a sudden and you opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling. You knew he was the Captain of the ship. Everyone knew. After all, he was the first one to become Captain in only three years. Oh, how loudly you had laughed when you heard about it in the news. No one believed him on his first day and he did it anyways.

However, Jim and you had fallen out of contact shortly after that faithful day when the Romulans attacked Vulcan. He got promoted quickly afterwards and his life turned into this adventure you didn’t seem to have a place in it. It hurt. Even now, you flinched when you thought about it.

You sat up when you suddenly heard two short knocks on the door. “Come in,” you called out and got up from the bed.

When the door opened, your heart skipped a beat.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” There he was. Captain James T. Kirk in the flesh, wearing his golden Starfleet uniform, his hands crossed behind his back, his signature smirk on his lips.

“Jim!” You exclaimed before remembering who he was and quickly clearing your throat. “I mean … Captain.” He looked like the Jim Kirk you knew but at the same time he didn’t. Something about him had changed. He seemed more sure of himself, his composure, the way he spoke – he had matured. It was an almost scary sight.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m still Jim to you.” Stepping towards you he continued: “I knew, I recognized that name when Spock told me about our new crew members. It’s so good to see you again, Y/N!” He opened his arms but then paused for a moment. “May I hug you?”

You stared at him. “Yes, yes, of course, Jim!” You finally replied and walked towards him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathed in his familiar scent and closed your eyes. It had been so long. Too long. “I missed you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“Same here,” he whispered.

You laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Jim pulled back at your reaction. “You don’t believe me?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’ve been so busy I don’t think you had time to miss me that much. At least it seemed that way since you never called or anything.”

He lowered his gaze, a painful look on his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” his apology sounded sincere. It wasn’t good enough for you though. “I really am. I meant to call but …”

“Then why didn’t you?”, you interrupted Jim, trying not to sound too heartbroken about it which seemed almost impossible. “I tried to reach you but you never replied.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Honestly I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get some space.”

Ouch. That hurt even more. Space? Why did he need space? Had your friendship been more one-sided than you realized? “Space?” You asked. “What do you mean?”

Finally, he looked at you. He raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe what you just said. “Oh, come on, Y/N. As if you don’t know what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?!” You shook your head, growing more and more annoyed by the second.

Jim scoffed before blurting out: “I had the biggest possible crush on you from the day I sat down next to you in class!”

The words felt like a punch in the gut. They left you breathless and your brain wasn’t able to understand the true meaning behind them for a few seconds. “What?! You … what?” You stammered.

“Yeah! I was so in love with you!”, Jim repeated himself and grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “As if you didn’t notice. Leonard – Dr. McCoy – he still makes fun of my behavior back then. I was hopelessly in love with you.” He let out a short laugh when he thought back.

No words came from your mouth. You were speechless. Confused you looked back and forth between his face and your hand that was resting in his.

Jim watched you. And then – it dawned on him. “Wait, you really didn’t know?”

You just stared at him.

“Oh.” Something happened that you never thought possible: Jim Kirk blushed. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked softly. All of this felt like a dream. Working on the Enterprise, Jim Kirk confessing his feelings for after so many years – you expected to wake up any second now.

Jim shrugged. “You didn’t seem interested. And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“What?”

A big grin suddenly appeared on your face and before you knew it, you started laughing. “Oh, Jim,” you managed to get out, grabbing your waist while giggling like a schoolgirl. “We’re both such idiots.”

Jim looked at you confusedly. Had you lost your mind completely now? Then he started to realize. Oh no. “Wait…”

You raised an eyebrow, still grinning like an idiot.

“Please, don’t tell me you felt the same,” Jim groaned.

You nodded and the both of you started laughing again.

“Unbelievable…”, Jim exclaimed after a few seconds. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

It was your turn to shrug this time. “I don’t know. Same reason, I guess. I thought you weren’t interested and didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Jim let out a long sigh. “I don’t believe it. How did we miss that?!”

“I have no idea,” you mumbled. “We wasted so much time.”

For a while no one said a word. It was just you and him, standing in the middle of your room, holding hands, looking at each other. It seemed too good to be true and you never wanted this moment to end.

“Do you still feel the same?” Jim finally asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Do you?”

He didn’t reply, instead his gaze wandered down to your lips. “May I …?”

“Yes,” you whispered, a shudder running down your spine. “You may.”

Jim Kirk leaned forwards, gently cupping your cheek with his hand, as his lips locked with yours – and in that moment, everything you ever wanted became true. The kiss was soft and slow, loving and longing. You never wanted it to end.

When it did end, you sighed.

Jim smiled at you. “I still have the scarf, you know.”

You chuckled. “Oh, really? Well, I can make you a new one now. I’m much better at knitting now.

“No,” he shook his head. “I want to keep it. You made it for me.”

***

My Star Trek Masterlist

My Tag List: @imoutofmyvulcanmind , @whatif-animagineblog , @groovyenby , @dancingwith-thesunflowers , @zizzlekwum , @spacewitchqueen

Message me if you want to be added to my tag list! <3

#jim kirk x reader #jim kirk x reader insert #jim kirk aos #jim kirk aos imagine #jim kirk imagine #jim kirk #jim kirk/female reader #jim kirk x female reader #jim kirk x plussize reader #jim kirk/plussize reader #plussize reader #chubby reader #jim kirk x chubby reader #star trek #star trek imagine #star trek fanfiction #star trek aos #star trek aos imagine

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bearsinpotatosacks · 3 years

Text

Why Lose Hope?- Chapter 2

Chapter 1 , Part 1 of the All the Little Things Seem so Insignificant Now Series

Jim ran from the transporter, his crew behind him as he raced to reach the bridge. The transporter itself being broken from the strain of trying to deliver seven people to another universe.

He slid in his chair and lent forwards as if it would bring him closer to Bones. They'd somehow managed to get an image on the two versions of him in that universe and had been watching them for the entire ten hours he'd been gone.

It was bittersweet watching him. Bones' smiles were sour and his movements freaked from the weight of the possibility he may never go home. Yet he carried on. He cared for Leonard, for the animals and crops all while telling tales of his universe, his ship all those miles away.

"Scotty, tell me you've got some good news,"

"Well, Captain, it's fixable but it'll take an hour minimum," The pain was obvious in his voice. "The most you could do is watch for the time being,"

"Thank you, Mr Scott,"

He knew what that meant for Bones, another year until he could see anyone he loved again. Although he had spent the entire time with the other Leonard McCoy, perhaps he loved him? Did it count as self love when it was an alternate version of himself?

It had only been a few seconds for them, but when he looked back at the screen,a week had already passed. Spock had done the calculations, a year for them is an hour on the ship, a month is five minutes and one and a quarter minutes was a week.

Leo, their Bones, was sitting on the porch covered in a blanket. He'd taken ill quickly, their hypotheses had been that a planet with worse technology than they had, even regressing back before the third world war, would be less equipped to handle severe illnesses.

Leonard was sitting on the other side of the table with half a scarf hanging off his knitting needles. He was talking about something to do with their farm when Leo broke the calm, coughing and spluttering.

"Here," He handed him a glass of water. "Take a nice long drink and you'll be fine,"

Leo did as he was told and lent back in his chair, face a little paler from the exertion of his remaining energy. The weather had changed rapidly in the time he'd been away, everywhere was blue skies and sunshine.

"How about I give you something to take your mind off things?" Leonard asked, only getting a grunt from Leo. "When did you meet your Jim?"

The crew all turned to face him. Uhura giving an amused glance, Spock something actually questioning and everyone else seemingly on the verge of rolling their eyes.

"When d'you meet yours?"

"It was 2255, I was working on a starbase somewhere, a medicine focused one, and I rush over to see a young man, six years younger than me, trying to escape with an IV line in, bandages on, nasal cannula and osteocalcium cream on his legs. He was also on the verge of passing out and was politely yelling at the guard to let him leave," He looked at Leo. "That was when I met James T. Kirk,"

"Sounds pretty on brand for him," Jim tried not to be hurt by that statement, even if he knew it was true.

"I saw him pretty much every day for about eight months, he was recovering from a serious injury involving radiation, an explosion and some angry octosquidarians. Became quite a good friend of mine even when he got transferred out of the ICU. He left, of course, everybody did on that starbase, yet we still managed to keep in touch and when he had his own ship and needed a CMO, well there was only one man for the job," He said and smiled to himself.

There was something about his age, his grey hair and wrinkles that made his smile more heartfelt. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he'd had more years with his Jim, more loving moments and annoying mishaps. He had nostalgia in his eyes as he sighed and turned to Leo.

"How'd'ya meet your Jim?"

"On a shuttle to Starfleet Academy, I was being forced out of my place in the bathroom-"

"Bathroom?"

"I have aviophobia," He nestled into the blankets further. "Jim's face was covered in blood, he'd been in a fight, and I was kind of drunk and spouted all the ways we could die on the thing and how my wife took everything. Then when we landed I found out he was in the same student apartment as me,"

"He was little shit most of the time, but he's also my best friend and the love of my life,"

He stopped and stared out for a moment. Jim was glad, he couldn't take it anymore. It had only been a few hours without him but he knew it had been so much longer for Bones.

Part of him wondered while they were waiting for the transporter modifications if he'd even love him anymore. Ten years could change a lot in a person, he would know. He went into town and could've easily fell in love with a local, but he didn't. He still loved him and he still loved Spock.

Speaking of which, the other Leonard asked their Bones another question, "When did you realise you loved your Spock?"

"You remember how I had to resurrect Jim?"

Leonard nodded.

"Well, with Spock being a scientist in multiple fields, he could help me in making the serum. He took my place when I was on the verge of collapse from fatigue or hunger or emotion, and I ain't told anyone this, but I meditated with him on the little time I had off and it actually helped,"

Jim smiled at Spock at the image of the two. Bones probably complained that it was useless for an overthinker like him or about the sitting positions being too convoluted for his old joints. Spock had suggested they all meditate together, one of the few couple activities Vulcans were known to do.

"And when Jim woke up and I couldn't handle the pressure of caring for him and the tabloids calling me Dr. Frankenstein and the looks from all the other doctors and pharmacists and every other medic in the hospital. So Spock listened as I ranted and cried and-" He stopped and took a few deep breaths. "And I realised, oh shit, I think I'm falling for him,"

"Well that's very romantic. When did you tell Jim?"

"There was a mission involving loss, they made us see supposed ghosts of people we lost and Spock was determined to say he wasn't affected. But Jim invited him over and after a few hours of awkward silences and denying the connection we were feeling, we admitted our feelings to each other,"

"How about you?" He said.

"Spock had a thing, a Vulcan thing that meant he had to go home-"

"Pon farr?"

Leonard nodded, "Things happened, to survive we had to fake Jim's death, Spock didn't know but when he realised he was alive they finally admitted their feelings for each other. Unfortunately for me I realised I loved the bastards," He carried on knitting with a little more ferocity. "It wasn't until we found a giant space amoeba and Spock won our 'Who's going to sacrifice themselves for the sake of science argument' that I realised I should've told him,"

He chuckled to himself, "Well, we managed to save him, of course, and I took that as a sign and told them they had my heart. And apart from a little bump after the five year mission, we ain't never looked back,"

Jim and Spock smiled at each other. They'd visited Ambassador Spock and willed him to tell them his stories like children on Pesach. About peaceful Sunday mornings when he'd meditate and they'd secretly watch their Leonard get ready for church. And about many trips to Vulcan where the Ambassador would show them off like trophy husbands.

They could tell he missed his Jim and Bones, a nostalgic look always distant in his eyes and his house filled with the various photos and videos he kept on his PADD when he went through the black hole.

At the time, they didn't understand what that felt like, to miss someone with every fibre of your soul. But after watching their Bones survive years and years alone without them, they realised how strangely comforting such an ache was.

The screen in front of them sped up as time drifted on. Relative as ever. Jim took a deep breath as Yeoman Rand handed everyone coffee and settled back in his chair for a long few hours.

I've managed to put a few headcanons of mine into this, like old married mcspirk's habit of Spock meditating, Bones getting ready for church and Jim smiling goofily as he watches his husband get dressed in his sunday best. Also I made up a few things for TOS Mckirk's meeting but the main idea I got from memory alpha is that Jim got hurt in his pre-captain days and met Bones. I would very much like to see this meeting somehow.

This fic will get weirder quite quickly and the schedule I think I might go with is one chapter in the farm universe, one in one of the crew's universe's, back to the farm universe and one in the other crew's universe.

And finally, I added Yeoman Rand! I'm very much in the camp of "I'll add all the recurring characters in tos into aos because someone (JJ Abrams) didn't" so I hope you enjoyed her cameo!

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captainofthestrangestship · 2 years

Text

Finally watched Star Trek: The Final Frontier, so time for my thoughts on the costumes.

I am still mad at the fact that Uhura and Scotty still have no new off duty outfits. Also strange tension between the two of them in this movie, not sure what to do with that.

Though of course McCoy did not disappoint, love the jacket and the scarf and he’s still a southern boy at heart.

Also holy shit I could not have been watching Kirk climb that mountain through those binoculars, even knowing it was a movie I was terrified. The scene about his dad was so upsetting, even though I knew about it, it still hurt to see him in so much pain.

It was super weird seeing Spock in normal clothes (when not on a mission). Also the workout clothes were super terrible, you can just tell that this movie was made in the eighties. This is also I feel about Kirk’s outfit.

Super rude that we didn’t get to see Kirk’s greatest pain but I have a feeling i could guess. Also these movies just keep disrespecting his dead brother.

Sulu and Chekov’s hiking clothes were fine. I liked Sulu’s jumper thing and was super glad Chekov wasn’t dressed like a pilgrim again.

Anyway this movie was pretty fun, had some really nice scenes between McCoy/Spock/Kirk. Though once again I felt like there were times Bones was going to say something and just didn’t. He really spends a lot of time in the background of these movies not talking which I find very disappointing.

Sybok wasn’t what I was expecting, not that I know what I was expecting. Though its very funny to me that he’s basically a prince. Also still hate Spock’s dad, he’s the worst.

This movie basically had the exact same plot as “The Way To Eden”, so that was amusing.

Honestly the whole plot was just in the way of seeing fun hijinks, I was like when do we get back to the camping and Kirk trying to fall off a cliff face again.

#star trek #the final frontier #first time watching #leonard mccoy #spock #james t kirk #montgomery scott #nyota uhura #hikaru sulu #pavel chekov

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renee-writer · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Chapter 19 A Report and a Question

A few days later, she sits up on the bed, going over her photos, trying to get some work done. Jamie sits at the desk, going over some paperwork his uncles had faxed him, doing the same. The television plays softly in the background. It is tuned to a all news channel but neither are interested in American politics nor sports. They listen for info on SOP.

After a commercial break, the reporter returns. “Now for an update on the mystery illness known as ‘the fainting illness or SOP.” Both their eyes lift and focus on the TV. Jamie stands and joins her. Her hand reaches out and finds his.

“We are sad to report the first causality of the pandemic that is all over the country and all over the world. A man from Ohio has passed on from SOP. The unnamed man, as family is still being contacted, was found by his neighbor in his driveway. He had passed out. When found, his blood pressure was to low to be sustained. They worked with him but was unable to bring him back.

He is the first known casualty but, as we have previously reported, no one has been able to be released from the hospital. When the patients are tried to be weaned off supportive care, their blood pressure drops again. The doctors are trying the addition of blood pressure medicines but warns it, if effective, is just a stop gap measure. A cure, a cause, and all other aspects of SOP remain a mystery. Stay tuned for more on this story.”

“Oh God. That poor man. He just passed out. All alone.” Claire shudders all over. Jamie lifts her into his lap.

“It is horrible.”

“Still no idea how to treat this, what causes it. Nothing. Including how it is spread.”

“I know. Scary. But, we have each other. What happened to that unfortunate man won't happen to us.”

“I am glad of it. Really. I just wish I knew when we could leave.”

“Tired of me.” He teases, running his nose up her neck. She shudders for a different reason.

“You know that is not it. But, it would be nice to go out on a real date.”

“Aye. Out yes. But, I think we have moved past dating. Just dating.”

“What do you mean Jamie?”

“I mean, I want to marry you Claire. I want to marry you and don't wish to wait.”

“Wot?” She moves apart enough to find his eyes.

“This situation has escalated the normal dating, courting relationship. We went from meeting, a few dates, if the snack machine counts, to living together. From there to making love and confessing the same. It has also showed us just how short and precarious life is. I can see no one else being by my side. No one else sharing my bed, my heart. No one else I want to laugh with, cook with, share a crisis with. Marriage is the logical next step.”

“Logical? Yes in a way. If I was to say yes, how would we go about it? In quarantine.”

“Well, we would have to do it legally after getting free but, there is a way. Just requires us and a few words. Oh and a rope.”

“A rope?”

“Or a scarf, a piece of cloth. Something to bind our wrists together. It is where the term ‘tying the knot comes from. We put our wrists, pulse to pulse, bind them together. It used to involve a blood vow but usually doesn't now. A bit of Gaelic, I can teach you. Then it is done. Called, being hand fast, it was how marriages happened when a priest wasn’t available. Lasted a year and a day. Time to get to the kirk.”

“Can you teach me the Gaelic?” He stares at her. She watches as the awe enters his eyes.

“A yes. Is that a yes?”

“It is. I feel the same. Unconventional but that has been us from the beginning. You must ask my dad, in person, once you can. But until then, yes, I want to be your wife.”

“Oh Claire!” He kisses her breathless before starting, right then, to teach her the Gaelic vows.

#my writing.#outlander fanfic #outlander fandom #jamie and claire #modern au #cannon divergence #quarantine #a report and a question

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v-thinks-on · 4 years

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Generations - Part 8

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Kirk, Spock and Picard materialized in front of Starfleet Headquarters - looking largely as it had eighty years ago - surrounded by a swarm of reporters. Spock was in his Vulcan robes and Kirk and Picard wore the most formal dress uniforms.

Kirk barely had time to take in the scene before he was greeted by a humanoid of a species he didn’t recognize with an almost snoutlike face, whose head was covered by a close fitting scarf. He had been briefed well enough to recognize him as the current President of the United Federation of Planets. The president held out a gloved hand and Kirk took it with a wry smile - he knew this photograph was the real reason he was here.

“On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, welcome back, Captain Kirk,” the president said, without relinquishing his hand.

“It’s good to be back,” Kirk said, and he meant it - even just being back on Earth was better than the Nexus.

Finally, the president turned to Picard and shook his hand as well. “And on behalf of the Federation, thank you for returning Captain Kirk to us.”

Spock was content to go largely ignored.

When the official greetings were complete, the press surged forward to bombard them with questions. Kirk only caught a few of them out of the din: “How does it feel to be back?” “How did you do it?” “Who will command the new Enterprise?”

One reporter who had clearly done her research called out, “Did you use another Genesis device?”

Finally, Kirk spoke up. “I wasn’t actually dead,” he explained. His amplified voice carried over the reporters, who almost immediately fell silent. “I was just in stasis.”

“Why did you stage your death?” a particularly outlandish reporter demanded.

Kirk frowned. “It wasn’t on purpose. As far as I can tell, when the Enterprise-B was damaged, I fell into a sort of temporal nexus, which kept me in stasis until Captain Picard found me.”

“How did you find him?” another reporter asked.

“It was largely an accident,” Picard said - they were starting to stray dangerously close to classified information about the Nexus.

“Captain Picard, you also found Captain Scott. It can’t be a coincidence,” a reporter insisted.

“What else could it be?” Picard retorted.

Before he could press further, another reporter spoke up, “Captain Kirk, what are your plans now that you’ve returned? Will you take over the command of the Enterprise-E?”

“No,” Kirk replied firmly, “I’m still retired.”

“What will you do then?” she insisted.

He could feel Spock’s eyes on him. “I haven’t decided yet,” Kirk answered at last.

Picard departed as soon as anyone let him. He gave Kirk a sympathetic look before hurrying away as Kirk was ushered into another meeting.

When all of the “urgent” official business was finally done, the Starfleet Chief of Staff showed Kirk and Spock to the main transporter in Starfleet Headquarters by way of a grand tour. After a prolonged series of polite thank-yous, Kirk and Spock stepped onto the transporter pad and dematerialized at last.

They arrived in the humid late afternoon on the grassy lawn just outside a small wooden cabin. Behind the cabin was a sprawling peach orchard that rustled lazily in the gentle breeze. It looked almost the same as it had last time Jim visited, as though it really had just been a few weeks instead of eighty years. If anything, maybe the trees looked a little smaller, as though he had moved back in time rather than forward - according to Spock, this was another generation entirely.

Jim took his time meandering up the walk - delaying the inevitable - so Spock led the way to the door and knocked. Jim had been so surprised the first time he visited Bones there to find that there was no bell to ring and that the door even had a wooden handle to turn instead of opening automatically.

Jim could hear someone moving inside, he may have even caught some familiar good-natured grumbling, before the door swung open to reveal a wizened old man. All at once, Jim was hit with the full force of eighty years. He could only wonder what had happened to his old friend, even though he very well knew, had been expecting it even.

“Spock!” Bones exclaimed - it was undeniably him, though his hair had turned white, the skin on his face was folded in deep wrinkles, and he was bowed over with age. “I thought you’d run off somewhere!”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, but gave no reply. Instead, he waited as Bones’s gaze wandered over to Jim.

The old man froze. For a long moment he stood there, staring at Jim with wide eyes. “Why I never…” Bones said at last. He glanced over at Spock. “Is it really him?”

Spock inclined his head.

Bones turned back to Jim, staring at him as though somehow he could force the world to make sense. Jim echoed the sentiment.

“You must be the luckiest man alive,” Bones finally declared. “You don’t look like you’ve aged a day!”

Jim attempted a wry smile, but he was sure it turned out weak. “Just a few days.”

“And you’ve got your memories back and everything,” Bones marveled. He turned to Spock again. “How did you manage it?”

“I didn’t,” Spock replied.

“What do you mean you didn’t?” Bones demanded, glancing between Jim and Spock.

“The credit goes to Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise-D,” Spock explained on Jim’s behalf - he was still reeling from seeing his old friend like this.

“Last I checked, we humans weren’t capable of bringing back the dead,” Bones insisted.

“Jim did not die,” Spock said. “He fell into a temporal rift where he did not experience the passage of time. Captain Picard merely located him.”

Bones just shook his head. Abruptly, he seemed to realize they were all still crowded around the front door. “Well don’t just stand there,” he insisted. “Come on in.”

Bones waved Jim and Spock into the deceptively familiar living room, though Jim couldn’t help but notice that a few modern conveniences had snuck in amidst the old-fashioned furniture. Bones settled into his chair and Jim and Spock sat down side by side on the couch, not quite touching.

“You must have known Jim was alive all along, didn’t you?” Bones asked Spock with an almost accusatory tone.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow at him.

Jim intervened as he always had; “He didn’t expect me to come back any more than you did.”

Bones faced Jim as though he had forgotten he was there. “You’re not the only one who hasn’t changed,” Bones admitted at last.

Jim gave him a small smile. “That’s a relief.”

“You really were stuck in time?”

Jim nodded. “It feels like it hasn’t been more than a few weeks since my last visit.”

Bones looked at Jim, really looked at him, as though he could see through all the things Jim wasn’t saying. Finally, Bones said, “It must come as a shock, seeing me like this.”

“You could say that,” Jim acknowledged.

“I’m sorry, Jim. But don’t go feeling bad for me. I’ve been enjoying being back on solid ground, and I’ve still got plenty of years left in me.”

"That's good," Jim said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

“There’s nothing I like better than sitting out on the porch with one of my mint juleps, watching the trees grow,” Bones attempted. “I think I’ve earned a little rest and relaxation after all you put me through.”

Jim gave Bones a look - it sounded more like wasting away than relaxing to him.

Bones waved it off. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you like so much about running around out there” - he shook his head for emphasis. He glanced over at Spock and asked, “When do you launch? I’ll see you off if you have to beam me up, though I expect a shuttle, and one of the nice ones.”

Jim looked at Spock, who merely raised an eyebrow in reply.

He could feel Spock’s resistance, but despite it Jim said, “I don’t think they’ll give us a sendoff when we leave for Romulus.”

“Romulus?” Bones demanded.

Jim nodded. “That’s where Spock’s been for the past three years, teaching the Romulans about Vulcan philosophy in the hope that eventually they’ll reunite. He’s going back, and I’m going with him.”

Jim could feel Spock’s malaise; he didn’t want to discuss it in front of Dr. McCoy, but he still refused to allow Jim to join him.

“And here I thought talking with the Cardassians was bad enough!” Bones exclaimed. “Jim, what would you do on Romulus?”

“Keep him out of danger for one” - Jim jabbed a finger in Spock’s direction.

Spock could keep quiet no longer. “As I have already made clear, you will not be accompanying me to Romulus.” He hesitated. “If necessary, I will remain on Earth.” Spock’s regret for not remaining with Jim for his first retirement came through the bond loud and clear.

“I’d rather go to Romulus alone than stay on Earth,” Jim retorted.

“What’s all this talk about staying on Earth?” Bones demanded. “It better not be on my account; the two of you would drive me up a wall!”

“I’m retired, remember?” Jim said.

“You’re too young to even be thinking about retirement!” Bones insisted.

"You weren't that much older than me.”

"It’s different and you know it! I was never meant to leave the ground, but Spock couldn't stay retired and nor should you. If you know what's good for you, you'll accept the first offer they give you and don't look back until you're at least a hundred."

"Bones," Jim cautioned.

Bones waved it off. "I know. I know you retired for a reason. My memory isn't that bad. But it's a new century, maybe it's time to stop living in the past."

Jim skeptically glanced around the very old-fashioned cabin.

"You know what I mean.”

Jim nodded, though he wasn't happy about it.

"I know it's not easy," Bones said with a sideways glance at Spock, “but somehow you managed to get a second chance - again - and I’d hate to see you waste it. Now,” he continued more lightly, “how exactly did you cheat death this time, if not Vulcan hoodoo?”

Grateful for the change in topic, Jim explained, “I got stuck in some kind of temporal nexus. It was like a strange dream; I thought I was at my uncle’s old cabin” - he glanced over at Spock with a smile, remembering the last time they had been there together before he sold it.

Spock answered with his own memory of the bitter cold of the Idaho winter - the rest of his feelings were carefully shielded away.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jim insisted, resting a reassuring hand on Spock’s shoulder. “You liked relaxing by the fire, at least.” That was the last proper winter Jim could remember; the rest of the time he’d been in space or San Francisco.

“I’m still here, you know,” Bones piped up. “You could show an old man some respect.”

For an instant, Jim expected to see a man not much older than sixty sitting across from him. Not for the first time, he had to do a double take at the sight of Bones’s wrinkled face and white hair. “Sorry,” Jim said at last, much subdued.

Bones drew Jim back to the conversation with a sympathetic nudge - “Then what happened?”

“I wasn’t there for long,” Jim continued, “at least it didn’t feel like very long before Captain Picard found me, though it took a little convincing to get me to leave,” he admitted.

“Jean-Luc Picard?” Bones confirmed. “I always liked him. A good captain, though he needed a little polishing.”

Jim nodded. “He’s a good pick for captain of the Enterprise. Though Spock doesn’t like him very much.”

“He didn’t manage to talk any sense into you?”

“No,” Jim said. “But he agrees with you.”

Bones nodded in approval. Then he turned on Spock. “And why don’t you like him?”

“I am surprised that you do,” Spock replied. “I have found he has an almost Vulcan quality.”

“Next you’ll be telling me to read Hamlet in the original Vulcan,” Bones retorted.

Spock raised his eyebrows at Dr. McCoy. “Such a narrative would be highly uncharacteristic of Vulcan literature.”

“I’m not going anywhere, if you need someone to knock some sense into you,” Bones offered good-naturedly.

He stood with Jim and Spock in the middle of the living room as they waited to be transported back to San Francisco. Outside, the sky had long since turned dark while they finished dinner and spent a few more hours just talking.

“It’s good to see you,” Jim said with a smile before he and Spock dematerialized.

They reappeared in the over-bright transporter room at Starfleet headquarters. The Representative of United Earth on the Federation Council met them right off the pad and led them back through the winding hallways. It was still early evening in San Francisco, so Kirk and Spock enjoyed a second sunset on their way to the apartment that had been provided for the returned captain. The representative welcomed them inside a penthouse suite, much more spacious than Kirk’s old apartment, furnished in what must have been the 24th century style, though it wasn’t quite as beige as the Farragut.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” the representative said, “and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

After another round of polite assurances and good-byes, she finally took her leave. The door slid shut behind her and all of a sudden the apartment seemed enormous and silent. For a moment, Jim and Spock just stood there, in the middle of the large, almost empty room, between blank walls. Inevitably, Jim was drawn to the far wall made entirely of windows looking out on the city and the bay, and, of course, the deep blue sky, studded with a few bright early stars.

Slowly, with almost uncharacteristic cautiousness - a reminder of the distance between them - Spock made his way over to the window, to stand at Jim’s side, so their arms barely brushed against each other. Jim purposefully brought their hands together, so they were just touching, enabling their thoughts and feelings mingle as much as Spock was willing to let them.

Finally, Jim asked aloud, “Would you really rather stay on Earth?”

Spock hesitated. He shielded his side of their bond, but Jim could feel his uncertainty and longing seeping through. It had been a lonely eighty years. Even with their renewed bond, he was reluctant to leave Jim on Earth again.

Jim took Spock’s hand in his own and gave it a solid squeeze. Let me come with you.

Spock’s discomfort with the idea came through loud and clear.

Jim loosened his hold on Spock’s hand, but he did not let go.

He did not know for certain what thoughts passed through Spock’s mind, but Jim could feel him warring within himself, torn between two unsatisfactory alternatives.

“Would you truly be happier on Romulus?” Spock asked at last.

“Yes,” Jim said without even needing to think about it, and Spock knew him well enough to believe it.

Later that night, when they lay in bed, the lights dimmed to zero percent, Spock remarked, “You have been offered a captaincy.”

Jim tensed a little. Spock had withdrawn from his side of the bond until his thoughts were almost unreadable. Jim tore his eyes away from the stars outside the open window and rolled over to face Spock with a little distance between them, so he was no longer pressed against Spock’s side.

“I have,” Jim said, ready for the conversation to end there.

He could see Spock debating whether to press or withdraw. Jim even felt a small burst of muddled emotions; all the uncertainty of a man no longer used to expressing them, let alone sharing his feelings with others.

Jim reached out to rest a hand on Spock's wrist, just below the cuff of his long-sleeve nightshirt. "Goodnight, Spock," he said softly.

Spock did not argue. He let the tension slowly fade away. "Goodnight, Jim," he said at last. In the light of the moon and stars, and the tireless city, Jim could see Spock's gentle expression that was not quite a smile.

Jim took it as an invitation and snuggled up to Spock. He leaned into Spock's side, with an arm around his chest, and his nose just an inch away from Spock's cheek. Jim let out a sigh of contentment, just enjoying the proximity. Spock's body heat staved off the cool breeze wafting in the window and he radiated steady affection through the bond.

The next day was bright and brisk with a distinct feeling of spring - not that it actually meant anything in San Francisco. Jim had suggested a walk in Golden Gate Park, but with all the publicity that came with a miraculous return from the dead, it was deemed inadvisable. Instead, they took a Starfleet shuttle to one of the many hills that peeked out of the city, forming little islands of parkland in a sea of buildings. It was quiet and peaceful with a splendid view, just a little small for wandering around.

After a quick circuit around the edge of the hilltop, Jim and Spock stopped at the most scenic point to look out on the city. Houses sprawled out around them, parading up and down the sloping roads. In the distance they could see Starfleet Headquarters and the Golden Gate Bridge and in the other direction were the skyscrapers of downtown. Beyond was the sparkling bay and beyond that rolling hills.

Jim couldn’t deny that it was a nice place to visit.

“It will not be easy living on Romulus,” Spock cautioned him.

Jim just gave Spock a look.

Spock continued undeterred, “I have spent the past three years traveling from town to town, living in underground caverns. At times food has been scarce. I have not seen daylight for weeks at a time.”

“I know.”

Spock hesitated. “I am acting against direct orders. In all likelihood, Starfleet would not accept you if you returned.”

“Spock,” Jim said, a little louder and sharper than he intended, “I know what I’m getting into.”

Spock raised his eyebrows at Jim in disbelief. “Are you certain that you will be happier on Romulus?”

“Of course,” Jim said. “You know I don’t belong on Earth.”

Spock waited. Jim’s omission was too glaring to be ignored.

Jim glanced away. “I had my chance.”

“You have been offered another,” Spock reminded him.

Jim just shook his head.

He could feel Spock retreating in surrender even as he pressed, “It will be dangerous.”

Jim gave him a wry smile. “That’s why I can’t let you go alone.” There was some weighty truth behind his words, but they both knew his motivations weren’t purely selfless.

“And what do you intend to do when I am not in immediate danger?” Spock asked.

Jim shrugged. “It has to be more interesting than retirement. We could play chess, maybe I could pick up the Vulcan lyre.”

Spock gave him a skeptical look.

More seriously Jim suggested, “I can represent the Federation. For Romulus and Vulcan to reunite, there would have to be some understanding between the Romulans and the Federation.”

“Very logical,” Spock said drily.

“Always the tone of surprise,” Jim teased. He let his shoulder bump up against Spock’s. Gently, Jim said, “Don’t worry.”

Spock made it clear that he did not miss the hypocrisy in Jim’s suggestion, but he did not protest.

Jim sat in the dimly lit living room, staring out the window. The sparkling city below seemed to reflect the star-speckled night sky above. The city was much brighter, but Jim only had eyes for the stars. His cold mug sat forgotten on the coffee table.

Spock hesitated a few feet away, watching Jim in his silent vigil, reluctant to interrupt it. He cradled a fresh, hot mug of tea between his hands, letting the warmth and the heady aroma of familiar spices wash over him. Out the window, he could see a bank of clouds advancing in the distance, threatening to come between the city and the stars above, covering it in a thick grey blanket.

He was tempted to return to the bedroom without a word and settle into his nightly meditation. Jim would not mind. But this was too important to be indefinitely put off and avoided.

Finally, Spock made his way over to the couch and sat down next to Jim. Jim scooched a little closer, but otherwise made no move to acknowledge him.

“Jim,” Spock said aloud at long last.

Jim startled at the noise, shockingly loud in their otherwise silent apartment. He turned to face Spock, suspecting what he was going to say and none too happy with the prospect. I will go with you to Romulus, he projected forcefully over the bond.

Still, Spock forged on. “Would you truly be happy there?”

“Yes,” Jim insisted, letting his gaze wander back to the window and the stars above. They would be together. It would not be easy, but what was life without a little challenge?

Spock hesitated. “I once said that captaining a starship was your first and best destiny. You have been offered a captaincy on your own terms. Would it not be most logical to accept it?”

Jim glared at him, though it lacked any heat. More pointed was his frown and the ghosts of memories best left forgotten.

“Jim,” Spock reproached him gently.

Jim just shook his head.

Spock waited, watching him expectantly, but he did not pressure him to continue. His expression remained impassive.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jim said at last. “Of course I’d be happier in the captain’s chair, but that’s not an option.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

“You know what I mean,” Jim insisted.

“There will also be danger on Romulus,” Spock pointed out.

“I know that!” Jim snapped. He was shaking a little from the sheer force of his emotions. Spock could feel them pounding at the bond.

Spock rested a hand on Jim’s arm, though he did not dare touch bare skin.

Jim looked at him, almost pleading. “It was too much. I can’t be responsible for something like that again.”

The image of Spock dying, pressed against the glass, flashed across their minds with a powerful wave of guilt.

Spock tightened his grip on Jim’s arm. He stared until Jim met his eyes. “Jim, I am alive” - he conveyed as much of his presence as he could through the bond.

Jim gave him a weak smile. “I know.” He was still shaking a little. Spock could still feel the waves of unsteady emotion radiating off of him.

Spock pressed his hot mug of tea into Jim’s hands and allowed Jim to nestle himself into his side. Unable to stand to acquire a blanket, Spock draped his arm around Jim’s shoulders, drawing him closer still.

Spock felt woefully out of practice, but he could feel Jim relaxing as he settled against Spock’s chest, and the waves of affection that echoed through the bond likewise soothed Spock’s concerns, at least for the moment.

Jim glanced up from the history book he was reading.

Spock was ostensibly knitting, in the Vulcan style apparently - a hobby he had picked up on Romulus where he spent a lot of time waiting and often lacked easy access to replicators. However, he was engrossed in something else entirely. Jim could sense a heavy reluctance as Spock warred within himself, torn between unappealing options. He kept his thoughts carefully concealed behind mental shields, but Jim didn't know what else Spock could have been debating.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him and strengthened his shields.

But Jim was not so easily deterred. He put aside his reading and inched a little closer to Spock. He rested a hand on Spock’s arm.

“You followed me for twenty years, maybe it’s my turn to return the favor,” Jim suggested with a smile.

Spock made it clear that he thought Jim was missing the point. He let nothing else seep through the bond as he organized his thoughts.

“I want little more than to remain at your side,” Spock admitted at last, and Jim could feel the weight of eighty lonely years behind his words. “It would be most convenient for you to accompany me to Romulus; I would be able to continue my work without requiring us to part ways.” He hesitated. “However, I fear that it would be a grave mistake.” Spock looked Jim firmly in the eyes, as though he could see through them into Jim’s mind, to understand things even Jim himself did not fully comprehend.

Jim knew what he was suggesting and just shook his head.

“Jim,” Spock attempted.

Jim let out a sigh. “Spock, I can’t,” he insisted. They had been over it already and he was tired of arguing. He would never have another command, there was no use in dwelling on it.

Spock hesitated. He did not want to argue, to bring back such painful memories. Even as he disputed Vulcan philosophy, he still reflexively shied away from emotion in favor of logical arguments. But this debate would not be won with logic. Jim deserved better.

Spock forced himself to confront the matter directly. “Jim,” he said aloud, “You do not belong on Romulus any more than I belong in the captain’s chair. This is my doing, allow me to help.”

Jim answered with disbelief and reassurance that it was not Spock’s fault. Less confidently, he asked aloud, “What could you do?” It had been seven years since Spock’s return from the dead, not counting the additional eighty that had passed while Jim was in the Nexus, and the memory was still enough to convince Jim to remain in retirement.

Spock raised a hand toward Jim’s face in response, his fingers splayed to match Jim’s familiar psy points.

It was Jim’s turn to hesitate. Unpleasant memories swirled in the back of his mind - he wasn’t sure he wanted them reawoken. But he trusted Spock, if anyone could help, he could, and if he couldn’t, then at least he would understand, and maybe that would be enough to ease his doubts about bringing Jim to Romulus.

So, at last, Jim nodded and inched a little closer. Spock pressed his warm fingertips to Jim’s face and let their minds crash together as though they were meant to be one.

Spock kept a careful handle on the meld, ensuring that their identities were not lost, as he searched for the source of Jim’s trauma. He dove past memories of an uneasy retirement; a meaningless life in a lonely apartment, and the tossing and turning that led up to the decision.

His approach slowed as he neared the psychic equivalent of scar tissue left from the broken bond. Jim had spent two years in an empty daze as Spock had ever so slowly gotten his memories back. Jim’s memory of the time was grizzled and angry around the edges and his mind echoed with desperation - Not again, don't let it happen again.

It would have been easier for Spock to pass through Jim's memories without engaging, but he was not there as an impassive observer.

I am here, Spock insisted. We are safe.

Jim’s mind attempted to order itself. He knew he was not there - they were both safe, sitting on the couch in the living room of their new apartment in San Francisco - and yet, it was easy to get lost in memories, especially as Spock drew him into them.

Spock continued deeper still, to the source of the wound, the scene that had replayed itself in Jim’s mind over and over and over, like a mantra, or like the blood spilling out of an open wound. The bond had healed, but the memories were still raw with emotion.

The only logical thing to do was to start at the beginning:

“Scotty, I need warp speed in three mintues or we’re all dead!” The admiral is desperate. They’re running out of options.

There is no response from engineering. Spock knows what is wrong, and there is only one solution. It will cost him his life, but he can save the others.

(No! Not again! We can find another way!)

(It is just a memory.)

Spock stands with all the determination of a desperate man and leaves the bridge. He proudly marches down to engineering.

(Jim smiled as he stepped onto the lift on the Enterprise-B, ready to do whatever it took to save a ship that was not even his own.)

Dr. McCoy attempts to dissuade him.

(Please! Don’t let him go! I need him!)

(I am here.)

He is efficiently disabled. Meanwhile, the situation looks increasingly desperate on the bridge.

Spock presses his fingertips to Dr. McCoy’s psy points. “Remember.”

Then, he enters the chamber, fully knowing what it will do to him - he must act quickly.

“Engine room! What’s happening?” the admiral shouts into the intercom, but goes unheeded.

(Get up! Go! You have to stop him!)

The admiral does not move. He does not know.

Spock struggles with the cap.

(No! Spock! Don’t!)

(I am unharmed - after a fashion.)

He is buffeted with noxious gas and radiation besides. Undeterred, he reaches into the core. He will save them all, even as it kills him. He will not let them die.

On the bridge, Sulu voices what they are all thinking; “We’re not going to make it, are we?”

(There has to be another way!)

(Yes, there was. And you found it.)

Spock’s work is almost done...

“Sir, the mains are back online!”

(No!)

(If not, we all would have died.)

“Go, Sulu!”

In their wake, the Genesis planet is born.

“Jim, I think you’d better get down here.”

The admiral sees the empty chair.

He runs down to engineering like a man possessed.

(It’s too late… Too late…)

(But it wasn’t.)

He freezes.

(Get him out! Bones can still do something! There has to be some way!)

(You found a way.)

(Too late!)

The others stop him from running headlong into the chamber.

“It’s too late, Jim.”

“SPOCK!”

He presses against the glass, calls out to him in every way he knows how.

He is still alive, but he is dying. Even dying, he moves so carefully.

“Jim. Out of danger?”

“Yes.”

Spock nods. “Don’t grieve, admiral.”

(Do not grieve.)

“It was logical. The needs of the many outweigh…”

“The needs of the few.”

“Or the one.”

“Spock…”

Together, they fall to their knees.

“I have been and always shall be your friend.” Spock presses his hand to the glass. “Live long and prosper.”

Jim presses his hand to Spock’s, but they cannot touch.

He can feel his breaths and heartbeats are numbered. He sits and falls against the glass. His only regret is the grief he leaves behind.

Jim waited for the emptiness, three long years of it...

Spock let their minds surge together at last in an overwhelming rush of not alone and whole. A turbulent swirling mass of contradictory emotion raged and ravaged, but its overwhelming power was nothing against the rightness of two minds made one.

Jim collapsed into Spock’s arms, tears streaming down his face - Spock detected some wetness under his own eyes, but he paid it no heed. He held Jim, shaking and possibly still sobbing in his arms, as though he could protect him from his own memories. He did not know if he had helped or made things worse, but now all he could do was attempt to soothe Jim with his presence and the knowledge that he had not failed all those years ago.

Spock rubbed circles into Jim’s back as all the pain, and sadness, and guilt, and anger came pouring out of him, as though the wound had been opened anew. Spock could only hope that they drained away instead of festering.

Eventually, the outpouring of emotion slowed and Jim's breathing steadied. He lingered in Spock’s arms, savoring the warmth of his body and the even rhythm of his breath. There was no wall between them, though Spock’s shields had returned.

Finally, Jim pulled away, though he kept a hand on Spock’s arm to steady himself. With Jim’s unspoken permission, Spock stood and retrieved tissues and a glass of water, and put up some water for tea.

Jim gave Spock a watery smile as he returned, grateful if a little embarrassed.

Spock merely gave him a look - there was no cause for embarrassment - and let an apology seep back through the bond.

Jim shook his head. He was adamant that Spock had done nothing wrong.

He blew his nose and gulped down the water. When he finally felt a little more presentable, he leaned back against Spock's chest and let his eyes fall shut. His tired mind still jumped from memory to memory, few of them pleasant, but they were more distant now and he gave no indication that he desired Spock's assistance - for which Spock was ashamed to say he was grateful; he'd had more than enough emotion for one day. Jim appeared likewise drained.

Once Jim was comfortable, Spock settled into a meditation of his own to the steady rhythm of his hand massaging Jim's shoulder. The shared sensation brought their minds a little closer together, even as their thoughts remained separate.

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening, though to all appearances Jim made for cheerful and charming company. They turned in for the night early and when they lay down to sleep, Jim clung to Spock as he had when his memories had just returned; as though if he did not hold on tight enough, Spock would not be there in the morning.

#v writes #Star Trek: The Original Series #Star Trek: The Next Generation #Star Trek: Generations #Spirk #Generations

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