fringedwellerfic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fringedwellerfic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singularity2009-06-25 10:20 pm
fringedwellerfic) wrote in singularity2009-06-25 10:20 pm
Fic: Of My Name, In The Window
Title: Of My Name, In The Window
Author:fringedwellerfic
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R, for a smidgen of smutty talk. I am erring on the safe side though.
Warnings: Oh, fluff. More bloody fluff, as I am unable to angst.
Summary: Jim can't sleep when Bones isn't there.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money off this.
Author's Notes: Seventh in an allegedly short series charting the progress of the Kirk/McCoy relationship through the poetry of John Donne. Follows The Token
I've played fast and loose with this one - I've selcted certain verses and gone for the imagery, not the meaning. The poem's a bit darker than I needed for this fic.
My name engraved herein,
Doth contribute my firmness to this glass,
Which, ever since that charm , hath been
As hard, as that which graved it, was;
Thine eye will give it price enough, to mock
The diamonds of either rock.
‘Tis much that glass should be
As all confessing, and through-shine as I,
‘Tis more, that it shows thee to thee,
And dear reflects thee to thine eye
But all such rules, love’s magic can undo,
Here you see me, and I am you.
It was quiet in the hallways of the Enterprise, the lights in the public areas dimmed in an effort to recreate night. The crew were either working at their stations or sound asleep in their bunks. There were few people to witness their captain wandering the length and breadth of his ship in the middle of delta shift. He did his official inspection tours during the Enterprise’s “day” shifts. Tonight was a distinctly unofficial affair. He wandered at night when he couldn’t sleep, or when Bones was absent for some reason. Recently, the two had begun to collide.
This evening he had explored the labyrinthine Engineering decks, stopping on one of the maintenance gantries to watch the glowing warp core pulse strongly as they moved through space to Starbase Five. The heartbeat of his ship soothed him, though its rhythmic pulses failed to tire him. He had moved on to the upper decks, investigating the end of the much-vaunted Security versus Stellar Cartography bowling match in the alley on deck seventeen. The Redshirts won, beating the Stargazers resoundingly. He ducked out before the inevitable after-party started; he wasn’t in the mood to socialise tonight.
Other occasions had seen him folding laundry with a bemused Yeoman Richards for hours, as they discussed the important role that the support services played in the ship’s wellbeing, and helping to set up the mess hall for the breakfast rush. One glorious night when Bones was busy writing a paper on some viral infection present in the sentient fauna of Rykos VI, he had discovered the steam pipe trunk distribution venue. It appeared that Gaila, the talented Orion engineer, had altered the pipes just enough to create a working sauna, and Kirk had stumbled onto Ladies Night. His heart belonged to Bones, sure and true, but the sight of Gaila, Christine Chapel, Janice Rand and Nyota Uhura all lounging around in tiny swimwear was enough to perk up the interest of any warm blooded man. Or woman. Or non-gendered being. He beat a hasty tactical withdrawal after he saw Uhura move towards the pitcher of hot water, but he was able to coax Bones into trying it out the night after.
Kirk didn’t stop by the arboretum anymore on his travels. He had enjoyed the tranquillity of the plants and trees, but once he had heard some familiar voices panting and moaning in the long grass. He left quietly, and made a mental note to look into rearranging some of the junior officers’ rooming partnerships. Sulu and Chekov were getting sloppy, and one day they were going to get caught by someone who gave a damn about public indecency regulations.
He usually ended his walking tours in Sickbay, either to pester McCoy into giving up his writing or watching unobtrusively from his office as the chief medical officer worked his grumpy magic on some poor unsuspecting crew member. There was no point going there tonight, though. Bones had been gone from the Enterprise for over a week, and wasn’t due back until the Enterprise docked at Starbase Five. Between them he and Joanna had worn down her mother into giving Bones the chance to take his daughter on a long holiday off-planet. They were currently on Yensid, the entertainment planet worshipped with fanatical devotion by children of all species and feared by their parents. The thought of Bones on hypergravity roller coaster rides and wearing the false ears of the planet’s native mouse-like creature had amused Kirk for a few days, until the loneliness and insomnia had set in.
Despite his decision to head back to his cabin to toss and turn in his bed until alpha shift started, he found himself walking down the familiar corridor to sickbay. Before he could turn away – he was a captain, damnit, not a swooning schoolgirl - the communication panel he was passing chimed softly and the delta shift bridge communications officer spoke.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Incoming message on a secure channel, sir. Pre-recorded.”
The only people that bothered to encode their transmissions were Starfleet Command. Kirk sighed, and decided to deal with it now, as he was awake.
“Patch it through to the nearest secure terminal, Lieutenant.”
“Confirmed, sir. Transmission waiting at the terminal in Dr.McCoy’s office. Bridge out.”
Sickbay was empty of patients, the only person in the room a nurse sat at a computer terminal updating patient notes. He stood as Kirk entered the room, but sat down and continued with his work as Kirk waved at him to ignore his presence. McCoy’s staff was well trained and efficient, and didn’t waste time on idle pleasantries.
McCoy’s office was sectioned off from the main sickbay by panels of a thick, translucent glass-like substance. The computer controlled its opacity and soundproofing abilities, letting McCoy monitor sickbay closely from the privacy of his desk or shut it out all together. Despite this clear invitation from the starship’s designers to indulge in a little medical naughtiness, McCoy had refused to “contaminate his workspace”. It was one of Jim’s long term goals of their five year mission to wear Bones down on this point; he did not believe in no-win scenarios.
Jim paused in front of the door, where his own image was reflected back at him, tired and unsmiling. He had bags under his eyes, and his five o’clock shadow was bordering on midnight. Across his forehead ‘Leonard H McCoy, M.D’ was engraved with diamond-focused lasers into the thick glass. He looked tattooed, or branded, and he smirked humourlessly at how truthful that image was. If it were up to Jim, he’d announce their relationship from the bridge, get Uhura to translate it into every language she knew and bounce the signal out into the deepest of space. But it wasn’t up to him, and Jim knew that pushing Bones on this was the quickest way to drive him away. Bones loved him, he knew it.
At least here, in this spot in front of the door to his lover’s office, the universe could see the truth. James T Kirk, property of Leonard H McCoy, MD, the fact stamped clearly on his forehead.
He palmed the security lock and the glass door slid easily aside. The computer turned the glass up to its maximum opacity and sealed the room for sound.
...
Or if too hard and deep
This learning be, for a scratched name to teach
It, as a given death’s head keep,
Lover’s mortality to preach,
Or think this ragged name to be
My mind’s anatomy.
Then, as all my souls be
Emparadised in you (in whom alone
I understand, and grow and see),
The rafters of my body, bones
Still being with you, the muscle, sinew and vein,
Which tile this house will come again.
He sat at Bones’ desk and entered his access code to retrieve his message. He vaguely expected a communiqué regarding new orders from Admiral Gulbrandsen, or a message from Commander Dhrak of Starbase Five. Instead, Bones’ face filled the screen looking relaxed and happy. Jim smiled in reflex, and felt his shoulders loosen slightly and the muscles in his back lose some of their tension.
“This won’t be a long message,” warned Bones gruffly from a million miles away, “Jo’s in the bath and it won’t take her long to wash the paint out of her hair. She’ll be needing a meal and she gets cranky when she’s hungry.” He looked almost proud to know this about his child, and Jim’s heart broke a little more for his lover, so desperate for contact with his child. He then snorted, because Joanna sounded suspiciously like her father in that regard. In fact, Jim knew that one of Chapel’s non-regulation duties was to stuff a sandwich in McCoy’s mouth if he missed a meal, to save the sanity of the rest of the med staff.
“We’re getting on fine,“ McCoy continued, a look of puzzled joy on his face. He had been worried about connecting with a daughter he knew from holovids and short subspace messages. “She’s so tall, Jim, growing like a weed. I swear she’s gained ten centimetres since we got here!”
Jim left the fatherly babble wash over him as he revelled in the sound of Bones’ voice. Bones’ Georgia drawl, more pronounced when he relaxed, soothed and refreshed him, sinking through veins, sinews and muscles to get right down to his bones, his core.
He eyed the shelf above the desk where McCoy kept a picture of himself holding a small dark haired girl in a red dress. It was years out of date now, and would no doubt be joined with more accurate photographs from their holiday. Jim’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the empty space where his picture normally sat. It wasn’t an obvious shot of them as a couple, just a candid snap from the Enterprise’s first wedding reception. To the casual observer it showed two old friends with cake and replicated champagne. The trained eye would see the affection and love they tried so hard to keep hidden. It had been an anniversary gift, and now it was gone, the space it left behind the only evidence that it ever existed.
Bones continued to talk about Joanna, the holiday planet and what seemed to be everything they had done, seen and eaten since they arrived. Despite his unease about the photograph, Jim couldn’t help but relax a little further and even started to yawn.
...
Till my return, repair
And recompact my scattered body so
As all the virtuous powers which are
Fixed in the stars, are said to flow
Into such characters, as graved be
When these stars have supremacy.
So since this name was cut
When love and grief their exaltation had
No door ‘gainst this name’s influence shut;
As much more loving, as more sad,
‘Twill make thee; and thou shouldst, till I return,
Since I die daily, daily mourn
...
But glass, and lines must be
No means our firm substantial love to keep;
Near death inflicts this lethargy,
And this I murmur in my sleep,
Inpute this idle talk, that I go,
For dying men talk often so.
The tone of McCoy’s voice changed, and dragged Kirk’s full attention back to the screen. His pitch lowered, and he had moved closer to his terminal.
“I’ve missed you, Jim,” he confessed, dark eyes holding Jim’s firmly from millions of miles away. “I miss waking up with you next to me, clutching at me like I was your god-damned teddy bear. I miss counting your breaths when I can’t sleep, watching your chest rise and fall. I miss your mouth Jim, hot and wet as you tempt me into staying in your bed for another hour. Being away from you is like dying a little, Jim. “ Bones paused and looked away, embarrassed at his truthfulness.
Before he could speak again, a rush of noise and colour threw itself into the screen’s field of vision and jumped into McCoy’s lap. Joanna McCoy, firmly wrapped up in a familiar dressing gown that had to be six sizes too big for her, peered at the screen as her father rescued a towel from the floor and started to rub at her head firmly.
“Who are you talking to?” she asked, as McCoy squeezed the drips from her dark hair.
“My best friend,” he replied, looking sideways at the screen. “Your Uncle Jim.”
Joanna’s eyes lit up. “From the picture?” she asked, and disappeared from her father’s lap onto to reappear moments later with the photo frame that usually sat on Bones’ shelf.
“Yeah,” Bones’ voice had softened when talking to his daughter, “From the picture.”
Joanna pursed her lips, her ‘deep in thought’ face a perfect match to her father’s.
“He’s pretty, Daddy. Can he come on holiday with us next time? Please?” She turned to face the screen full on. “Please, Uncle Jim?”
Jim had never been particularly fond of children, even when he was one. So he was surprised to find he just melted under the influence of the mini-McCoy, despite her being days and miles away. It was no surprise that Bones folded like a piece of paper.
“Sure, sweetheart, if he can. He’s busy, though,” he cautioned, giving Jim a perfect excuse to refuse. “He’s the captain of a very important ship. He may not have the time to come and play with us.”
Joanna nodded, seemingly content with this parental disclaimer. Her stomach rumbled loudly.
“I’m hungry, Daddy. Can I use the replicator?”
On getting the assent of her father she waved merrily at the screen, smacked her father on the cheek with a big kiss and disappeared from view. McCoy’s embarrassed face returned to the screen.
“There’s no point sending a return message, Jim. By the time it gets here we’ll be on the shuttle to Starbase Five. I’ll see you soon. I love you. I miss you. And if you don’t go back to your quarters and get some sleep I’ll get Chapel to drag you into sickbay and sedate you. Don’t think she wouldn’t, either,” McCoy continued in a slightly injured tone, “She has no respect for the chain of command.”
Jim smiled. Of course Bones knew he wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t get anything past him, even when he was a million miles away.
The screen blanked out, the familiar blue Starfleet logo replacing Bones with the message “Transmission terminated” scrolling across the screen. Jim yawned, catching sight of himself again. He still looked tired, but the smile was back, softening his face. The bags under his eyes were still there, but they were sexy bags. They made him look attractive. Smouldering, even. He ran a hand across his raspy chin. The stubble helped the smouldering look. Maybe he should keep it? Surprise Bones by ditching the pretty captain image and becoming a pirate? A space pirate?
Truly grinning for the first time in a fortnight he left Sickbay and went straight back to his quarters. He stripped off his uniform, pulled back the covers and settled in for the night. He fought an internal battle, lost, and pulled the pillows from Bones’ side of the bed over to him and inhaled deeply.
Hey, even space pirates were allowed to miss their boyfriends.
He was out like a light.
Author:
fringedwellerficPairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: R, for a smidgen of smutty talk. I am erring on the safe side though.
Warnings: Oh, fluff. More bloody fluff, as I am unable to angst.
Summary: Jim can't sleep when Bones isn't there.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money off this.
Author's Notes: Seventh in an allegedly short series charting the progress of the Kirk/McCoy relationship through the poetry of John Donne. Follows The Token
I've played fast and loose with this one - I've selcted certain verses and gone for the imagery, not the meaning. The poem's a bit darker than I needed for this fic.
My name engraved herein,
Doth contribute my firmness to this glass,
Which, ever since that charm , hath been
As hard, as that which graved it, was;
Thine eye will give it price enough, to mock
The diamonds of either rock.
‘Tis much that glass should be
As all confessing, and through-shine as I,
‘Tis more, that it shows thee to thee,
And dear reflects thee to thine eye
But all such rules, love’s magic can undo,
Here you see me, and I am you.
It was quiet in the hallways of the Enterprise, the lights in the public areas dimmed in an effort to recreate night. The crew were either working at their stations or sound asleep in their bunks. There were few people to witness their captain wandering the length and breadth of his ship in the middle of delta shift. He did his official inspection tours during the Enterprise’s “day” shifts. Tonight was a distinctly unofficial affair. He wandered at night when he couldn’t sleep, or when Bones was absent for some reason. Recently, the two had begun to collide.
This evening he had explored the labyrinthine Engineering decks, stopping on one of the maintenance gantries to watch the glowing warp core pulse strongly as they moved through space to Starbase Five. The heartbeat of his ship soothed him, though its rhythmic pulses failed to tire him. He had moved on to the upper decks, investigating the end of the much-vaunted Security versus Stellar Cartography bowling match in the alley on deck seventeen. The Redshirts won, beating the Stargazers resoundingly. He ducked out before the inevitable after-party started; he wasn’t in the mood to socialise tonight.
Other occasions had seen him folding laundry with a bemused Yeoman Richards for hours, as they discussed the important role that the support services played in the ship’s wellbeing, and helping to set up the mess hall for the breakfast rush. One glorious night when Bones was busy writing a paper on some viral infection present in the sentient fauna of Rykos VI, he had discovered the steam pipe trunk distribution venue. It appeared that Gaila, the talented Orion engineer, had altered the pipes just enough to create a working sauna, and Kirk had stumbled onto Ladies Night. His heart belonged to Bones, sure and true, but the sight of Gaila, Christine Chapel, Janice Rand and Nyota Uhura all lounging around in tiny swimwear was enough to perk up the interest of any warm blooded man. Or woman. Or non-gendered being. He beat a hasty tactical withdrawal after he saw Uhura move towards the pitcher of hot water, but he was able to coax Bones into trying it out the night after.
Kirk didn’t stop by the arboretum anymore on his travels. He had enjoyed the tranquillity of the plants and trees, but once he had heard some familiar voices panting and moaning in the long grass. He left quietly, and made a mental note to look into rearranging some of the junior officers’ rooming partnerships. Sulu and Chekov were getting sloppy, and one day they were going to get caught by someone who gave a damn about public indecency regulations.
He usually ended his walking tours in Sickbay, either to pester McCoy into giving up his writing or watching unobtrusively from his office as the chief medical officer worked his grumpy magic on some poor unsuspecting crew member. There was no point going there tonight, though. Bones had been gone from the Enterprise for over a week, and wasn’t due back until the Enterprise docked at Starbase Five. Between them he and Joanna had worn down her mother into giving Bones the chance to take his daughter on a long holiday off-planet. They were currently on Yensid, the entertainment planet worshipped with fanatical devotion by children of all species and feared by their parents. The thought of Bones on hypergravity roller coaster rides and wearing the false ears of the planet’s native mouse-like creature had amused Kirk for a few days, until the loneliness and insomnia had set in.
Despite his decision to head back to his cabin to toss and turn in his bed until alpha shift started, he found himself walking down the familiar corridor to sickbay. Before he could turn away – he was a captain, damnit, not a swooning schoolgirl - the communication panel he was passing chimed softly and the delta shift bridge communications officer spoke.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Incoming message on a secure channel, sir. Pre-recorded.”
The only people that bothered to encode their transmissions were Starfleet Command. Kirk sighed, and decided to deal with it now, as he was awake.
“Patch it through to the nearest secure terminal, Lieutenant.”
“Confirmed, sir. Transmission waiting at the terminal in Dr.McCoy’s office. Bridge out.”
Sickbay was empty of patients, the only person in the room a nurse sat at a computer terminal updating patient notes. He stood as Kirk entered the room, but sat down and continued with his work as Kirk waved at him to ignore his presence. McCoy’s staff was well trained and efficient, and didn’t waste time on idle pleasantries.
McCoy’s office was sectioned off from the main sickbay by panels of a thick, translucent glass-like substance. The computer controlled its opacity and soundproofing abilities, letting McCoy monitor sickbay closely from the privacy of his desk or shut it out all together. Despite this clear invitation from the starship’s designers to indulge in a little medical naughtiness, McCoy had refused to “contaminate his workspace”. It was one of Jim’s long term goals of their five year mission to wear Bones down on this point; he did not believe in no-win scenarios.
Jim paused in front of the door, where his own image was reflected back at him, tired and unsmiling. He had bags under his eyes, and his five o’clock shadow was bordering on midnight. Across his forehead ‘Leonard H McCoy, M.D’ was engraved with diamond-focused lasers into the thick glass. He looked tattooed, or branded, and he smirked humourlessly at how truthful that image was. If it were up to Jim, he’d announce their relationship from the bridge, get Uhura to translate it into every language she knew and bounce the signal out into the deepest of space. But it wasn’t up to him, and Jim knew that pushing Bones on this was the quickest way to drive him away. Bones loved him, he knew it.
At least here, in this spot in front of the door to his lover’s office, the universe could see the truth. James T Kirk, property of Leonard H McCoy, MD, the fact stamped clearly on his forehead.
He palmed the security lock and the glass door slid easily aside. The computer turned the glass up to its maximum opacity and sealed the room for sound.
...
Or if too hard and deep
This learning be, for a scratched name to teach
It, as a given death’s head keep,
Lover’s mortality to preach,
Or think this ragged name to be
My mind’s anatomy.
Then, as all my souls be
Emparadised in you (in whom alone
I understand, and grow and see),
The rafters of my body, bones
Still being with you, the muscle, sinew and vein,
Which tile this house will come again.
He sat at Bones’ desk and entered his access code to retrieve his message. He vaguely expected a communiqué regarding new orders from Admiral Gulbrandsen, or a message from Commander Dhrak of Starbase Five. Instead, Bones’ face filled the screen looking relaxed and happy. Jim smiled in reflex, and felt his shoulders loosen slightly and the muscles in his back lose some of their tension.
“This won’t be a long message,” warned Bones gruffly from a million miles away, “Jo’s in the bath and it won’t take her long to wash the paint out of her hair. She’ll be needing a meal and she gets cranky when she’s hungry.” He looked almost proud to know this about his child, and Jim’s heart broke a little more for his lover, so desperate for contact with his child. He then snorted, because Joanna sounded suspiciously like her father in that regard. In fact, Jim knew that one of Chapel’s non-regulation duties was to stuff a sandwich in McCoy’s mouth if he missed a meal, to save the sanity of the rest of the med staff.
“We’re getting on fine,“ McCoy continued, a look of puzzled joy on his face. He had been worried about connecting with a daughter he knew from holovids and short subspace messages. “She’s so tall, Jim, growing like a weed. I swear she’s gained ten centimetres since we got here!”
Jim left the fatherly babble wash over him as he revelled in the sound of Bones’ voice. Bones’ Georgia drawl, more pronounced when he relaxed, soothed and refreshed him, sinking through veins, sinews and muscles to get right down to his bones, his core.
He eyed the shelf above the desk where McCoy kept a picture of himself holding a small dark haired girl in a red dress. It was years out of date now, and would no doubt be joined with more accurate photographs from their holiday. Jim’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the empty space where his picture normally sat. It wasn’t an obvious shot of them as a couple, just a candid snap from the Enterprise’s first wedding reception. To the casual observer it showed two old friends with cake and replicated champagne. The trained eye would see the affection and love they tried so hard to keep hidden. It had been an anniversary gift, and now it was gone, the space it left behind the only evidence that it ever existed.
Bones continued to talk about Joanna, the holiday planet and what seemed to be everything they had done, seen and eaten since they arrived. Despite his unease about the photograph, Jim couldn’t help but relax a little further and even started to yawn.
...
Till my return, repair
And recompact my scattered body so
As all the virtuous powers which are
Fixed in the stars, are said to flow
Into such characters, as graved be
When these stars have supremacy.
So since this name was cut
When love and grief their exaltation had
No door ‘gainst this name’s influence shut;
As much more loving, as more sad,
‘Twill make thee; and thou shouldst, till I return,
Since I die daily, daily mourn
...
But glass, and lines must be
No means our firm substantial love to keep;
Near death inflicts this lethargy,
And this I murmur in my sleep,
Inpute this idle talk, that I go,
For dying men talk often so.
The tone of McCoy’s voice changed, and dragged Kirk’s full attention back to the screen. His pitch lowered, and he had moved closer to his terminal.
“I’ve missed you, Jim,” he confessed, dark eyes holding Jim’s firmly from millions of miles away. “I miss waking up with you next to me, clutching at me like I was your god-damned teddy bear. I miss counting your breaths when I can’t sleep, watching your chest rise and fall. I miss your mouth Jim, hot and wet as you tempt me into staying in your bed for another hour. Being away from you is like dying a little, Jim. “ Bones paused and looked away, embarrassed at his truthfulness.
Before he could speak again, a rush of noise and colour threw itself into the screen’s field of vision and jumped into McCoy’s lap. Joanna McCoy, firmly wrapped up in a familiar dressing gown that had to be six sizes too big for her, peered at the screen as her father rescued a towel from the floor and started to rub at her head firmly.
“Who are you talking to?” she asked, as McCoy squeezed the drips from her dark hair.
“My best friend,” he replied, looking sideways at the screen. “Your Uncle Jim.”
Joanna’s eyes lit up. “From the picture?” she asked, and disappeared from her father’s lap onto to reappear moments later with the photo frame that usually sat on Bones’ shelf.
“Yeah,” Bones’ voice had softened when talking to his daughter, “From the picture.”
Joanna pursed her lips, her ‘deep in thought’ face a perfect match to her father’s.
“He’s pretty, Daddy. Can he come on holiday with us next time? Please?” She turned to face the screen full on. “Please, Uncle Jim?”
Jim had never been particularly fond of children, even when he was one. So he was surprised to find he just melted under the influence of the mini-McCoy, despite her being days and miles away. It was no surprise that Bones folded like a piece of paper.
“Sure, sweetheart, if he can. He’s busy, though,” he cautioned, giving Jim a perfect excuse to refuse. “He’s the captain of a very important ship. He may not have the time to come and play with us.”
Joanna nodded, seemingly content with this parental disclaimer. Her stomach rumbled loudly.
“I’m hungry, Daddy. Can I use the replicator?”
On getting the assent of her father she waved merrily at the screen, smacked her father on the cheek with a big kiss and disappeared from view. McCoy’s embarrassed face returned to the screen.
“There’s no point sending a return message, Jim. By the time it gets here we’ll be on the shuttle to Starbase Five. I’ll see you soon. I love you. I miss you. And if you don’t go back to your quarters and get some sleep I’ll get Chapel to drag you into sickbay and sedate you. Don’t think she wouldn’t, either,” McCoy continued in a slightly injured tone, “She has no respect for the chain of command.”
Jim smiled. Of course Bones knew he wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t get anything past him, even when he was a million miles away.
The screen blanked out, the familiar blue Starfleet logo replacing Bones with the message “Transmission terminated” scrolling across the screen. Jim yawned, catching sight of himself again. He still looked tired, but the smile was back, softening his face. The bags under his eyes were still there, but they were sexy bags. They made him look attractive. Smouldering, even. He ran a hand across his raspy chin. The stubble helped the smouldering look. Maybe he should keep it? Surprise Bones by ditching the pretty captain image and becoming a pirate? A space pirate?
Truly grinning for the first time in a fortnight he left Sickbay and went straight back to his quarters. He stripped off his uniform, pulled back the covers and settled in for the night. He fought an internal battle, lost, and pulled the pillows from Bones’ side of the bed over to him and inhaled deeply.
Hey, even space pirates were allowed to miss their boyfriends.
He was out like a light.
no subject
the steam pipe trunk distribution venue
Ahoy there, West Wing shout out! :D
no subject
Oh yes, the West Wing shoutout. I seem to be working in my very own steam pipe trunk distribution venue at moment, so I thought it was fitting!
no subject
But that's not the only reason I'm commenting -- I'm also commenting because Y HALO THAR STEAM PIPE TRUNK DISTRIBUTION VENUE. Also, Yensid FTW. But mostly, steam pipe trunk distribution venue! (I had the thought, when seeing the movie for the ~mumble~th time, that the whole scene when Kirk is running through the halls of the Enterprise trying to find Uhura is very Sorkin-y. I have yet to work this into a fic, however.)
no subject
Thank you so much for reading and commenting!
no subject
no subject