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Kink_meme response.
This got a bit long for posting over there. Egads. I think it will have a sequel, too. *weeps*
The best laid plans of Starfleet Captains.
It goes like this:
They send Pike to lay the news on him.
"Jim, we need to talk."
Now Jim's not ancient, but he's perpetrated a lot of bullshit that’s caused people to "need to talk" to him. He knows the tone, and he knows the way people's mouths set into determined lines when they use it.
"Whatever it is, I didn't do it." He tosses off a grin. Jim's feelin' golden about right now, promotion, commission locked down, triumph thrown in the faces of haters. He knows he's an asshole for not being appropriately depressed about Vulcan and the loss of Federation personnel all the live-long day, but personal elation and general misery can coincide.
"Look, kid, believe me when I tell you I wouldn't buy that off of Jesus Christ himself if he had your shit-eater." Pike's Pike and that feels easy and right. "This is about the Enterprise crew."
Jim dampens back the bullshit and dials into the situation. "Shoot."
"You know you're not going to get the full crew for the five year shot, right?" Pike's up on crutches now, hobbling around. He leans against the desk in Jim's quarters.
"No, I don't think I know what you're talking about." This had actually crossed his mind. The duty roster for the Enterprise had been written up a longass time before Jim swanned into the captain's seat.
"Some of the original crew survived Vulcan and they're being reallocated accordingly." Pike lifts an eyebrow. "The big shake up's going to be in Sickbay."
RED ALERT.
"Go on," Jim crosses his arms over his chest. He knows it's a tell and couldn't give less of a shit.
"You know what I'm saying, kiddo, don't make me do this the hard way." Pike never drops his gaze from Jim's eyes. He's a tough old bastard. Jim wonders if he demanded to bear the news himself.
"No way..." Jim takes a step towards him.
"Jim, he's too good, they want him on the space port..."
"No fucking way am I going out into the black for five years without Bones, Admiral." Jim's remembering to use ranks and honorifics more these days. But barely. He feels the rage he's learned to harness right under his skin, black and thick, slowing his heartbeats down and distilling the moment into fragments strung together by Jim's own anger.
"My head can roll over this, I'm your sacrificial messenger, but I'll tell you right now that I went to the mat over this one. If your boy was just a little more sloppy, just a fraction less superlative, we wouldn't be talking about this, but when a room full of Admirals are looking their own mortality in the face, son, let me tell you that they're going to cherry pick the best of the best for their own care. That's just facts."
Jim watches Pike collect himself, steady his weight on his crutches and exit the room with as much dignity as a busted up old codger can muster. Jim feels his heartbeat in his eyeballs.
He has a week and half to fix this.
*
Of course, the first hurdle is Bones.
"Why's Pike going around telling people my duty assignments without my permission? That's not ethical, even for this man's army." Bones is standing in front of a life-size holo projection of some kind of squid-headed alien. He's, of course, working even though they're supposed to be on R&R.
"What you're focusing on is the fact that Pike is talking out of school? Didn't you catch the part where you've landed Sol-duty?"
"Yes, I've also forgotten how to speak Standard, so go back to the beginning, teach me what words mean then we'll revisit my posting." Bones hits keys on the machine in front of him and the squid-headed alien morphs into a Andorran.
Jim reads the situation without having to consider it--some call that instinct, Jim thinks it's more training. He knows this guy. "You already knew."
This is one of those moments that proves how much Jim has changed in the last three years. His first instinct isn't to lash out and punch Bones in the face. No, there's no simplicity of black-out rage and the mindless physicality of brawling. Instead...and Jim can't even believe he can admit this in his own mind...he's hurt.
Bones is a compassionate man. He covers that with the endless insults and sneering. People as vulnerable as Bones have to construct an exoskeleton to protect their thin skin and endless capacity for being wounded. "Yeah, but just today. Why do you think I'm in here working when the sun's out?"
This is true. Not even Bones would work away an achingly bright day on the Bay if he wasn't hiding from himself. Jim brushes a hand over his head. "Ok, ok, we'll work it out."
Bones sighs long and deep. "Never thought I'd see the day I'd want to jump on a metal death trap and fly halfway across the universe, my certain demise be damned." He flicks his eyes over Jim's face before settling on his "you idiot!" expression. "Also leave it to you to steal my goddamned thunder. I've been in here for five damned hours trying to figure out how I was going to break it to you. You asshole."
Jim smiles reflexively. Yes, they'll work it out.
*
Gaila, of course, presents the solution. They're nestled in the Officer's canteen sipping plum wine and eating rice balls when she lays her hand over his. "Jim." She has a way of saying a person's name that's troubling, like she just stepped on a piece of your soul. You have no choice but to pay attention for as long as she wants you to. His eyes meet hers. "Did your parents not face the same dilemma?"
"What?" Hadn't they been talking about Admiral Archer?
"Humans are so weird. Marriage is a transient circumstance for humans, correct? A bond undertaken for a purpose, child-rearing, peace of mind, transfer of property?" She tilts her head back and forth watching him. “Did I get that wrong? Sometimes I misunderstand.” She knocks back her wine.
“No, I think you about got that. Most people don’t look at it that way, but, yeah, that’s about right.” Jim watches Bones at the bar chit-chatting with Pugh. Bones is laughing wide open and pink-faced, his making fun of people laugh. It looks good on him.
*
“Listen, this is reasonable.” Jim plants his hands on his hips.
“You don’t know the meaning of the word reasonable, Jim.” Bones cracks his neck and sighs.
Jim cuts the shit. “I don’t think there’s another way.” Jim drops down onto the couch next to Bones, their bodies meeting at shoulders, elbows, knees.
“So you think we should get married because there’s no other option?” Bones’s face is flushed from booze and anger, he needs to shave.
“Isn’t that the cultural tradition?” Jim’s not even kidding.
Bones laughs in response. “Touche.” He laughs harder and turns his face up to the ceiling. “You know I don’t know if it’s more fucked up that you think this is reasonable or that I’m frankly considering it. I used to be a pretty normal guy.”
“People get married for all kinds of dumber reasons than this. Love, for example.” Jim slaps Bones’s leg and leaps up. “So, I think payback is in order in the form of asking Pike to officiate.”
“No ceremony, Jim. Just the paperwork.” Bones slinks off with an air of a man trailing a thousand pound weight. Jim watches his back and knows he’s played this all wrong.
*
The paperwork to declare yourself legally partnered basically consists of registering altered wills, living wills, property manifests and the like with the Federation. The Fleet paperwork is way worse because you have to fill out like ten different forms for each level of hierarchy. Bones is protesting the entire situation by making Jim spend his precious precious R&R time with this shitty paperwork. Jim retaliates by doing it while drunk.
“Fuck yooooooooooouu,” Jim sings and throws rude gestures at the computer screen. “Fuck everyone you ever knew, fucking Starfleet motherfuckers!”
“Going well, then, Captain?” Scotty strolls into Jim’s quarters without the door even pinging.
“How’d you do that?” Jim leans back in his seat.
“Would I be me if I couldn’t accomplish such a small sabotage job?” Scotty has a bottle. He’s Jim’s best friend. “Here.” He offers Jim the bottle. “From Engineering. For taking one for Scotland.”
“You mean the team?” When Jim looks up at his face, Montgomery Scott is smiling big and broad and not at all like he’s up to some prank.
“Aye, and nay. But make of it what you will. Not a one of the crew would have done less.” With that he gives a half hearted salute and leaves again.
“What the fuck?” Jim examines the bottle and whistles. Vintage absinthe.
*
Three days before the full crew moves on to the Enterprise to prepare for departure, Jim comes up from the cloud of self-delusion he’s been huffing to look himself square in the eye. He and Bones are married. Jim didn’t even hesitate to make that decision. Bones gave up a gig in their home solar system to commit to the Enterprise. Jim has perhaps been missing the bigger picture.
That doesn’t mean he knows what to do about that. Jim has his limits when it comes to picking apart his feelings or even really having feelings he’s aware of for that matter. People fall in love with Jim a lot. He just waits it out for them to learn to hate him or to just get over it. One or the other always happens because he’s practiced at not encouraging people.
But this time he might have done a touch of encouraging. Jim, now that he’s really dealing with it, isn’t going to pretend the encouraging began when Bones got a Sol posting. Fuck no, Jim started winding that guy around his life years ago. Without a goal in mind. Jim never intended marriage and a five year commitment to space exploration and trying not to get killed.
Oh well, he was fucking double dog dared into joining Starfleet, Jim is completely the kind of guy who gets married because he’s codependent and not willing to give up his drinking buddy.
“Jim,” Bones disturbs his thoughts. Jim’s in his quarters, caught mid unpacking by his little mental idyll.
Bones has a glower about him that suggests he might actually be angry and not just simmering for the cameras. “Yes?” Jim’s not going to walk into anything.
“I just had a little visit in Sickbay.” His fists pop onto his hips.
“And?” Jim prompts.
“And I’ve been informed that our marriage is, and I quote, highly suspect and subject for review by Starfleet Command. Admiral Chu came down her own damned self to lay down the law!”
“They came aboard ship without hailing me and asking my leave?” Jim snaps his fingers three times rapidly. “How many people were in the party?” Jim is, in a word, fucking livid.
“I think you’re focusing on the wrong aspect of my tale.” Bones appears just as angry. “I won’t have any goddamned hopped up Admiral sniffing around my private life because she’s worried her yearly stress test will otherwise be overseen by a talking parrot! This is ludicrous. I belong in the field with people who need someone who’s had some battlefield experience...you’re not listening to a goddamned thing I’m sayin’!” He’s yelling and Jim hears him, but Bones’s right, Jim’s furiously hailing the bridge.
“Lt Uhura!” Jim shouts.
“Yes, Captain?” She doesn’t sound all that impressed.
“Did Admiral Chu’s party hail the ship before beaming aboard?” He slaps the console.
“It is protocol for the Communications Officer to forward such messages, Captain.” Oh nice, well, fuck you, too.
“Just checking,” he’s a little less angry. She cracks him up. “Kirk out.”
“Jim, can we focus on this other issue?”
“Don’t you see?” Jim leaps out of his chair. “She broke protocol! Even if she does launch an inquest, I’m going to file a preemptive complaint against her for violating protocol so it will look like she’s got a grudge.” Jim’s anger has turned over into triumph.
“I see. Well, I’m glad to see you displaying a sharp tactical mind. Makes me a little less sure of my swift demise at the hands of space vultures.”
*
“I understand congratulations are in order for you and the Doctor, Captain.” Spock looks at Jim from across the table in the mess with his impassive glacial stare.
“Are you taking the piss?”
“Being that the literal interpretation of that expression would be a most illogical utterance for even you, Captain, I must infer that you’re using a turn of phrase I am as yet unacquainted with.” Spock sips his tea to punctuate that.
“Are you making fun of me?” Jim tries again.
“Captain, mockery of the sort about which you inquire is greatly distasteful to me. I would never engage you in this manner.”
Jim has a feeling Spock’s having a huge multilayered joke at Jim’s expense, but he lets it go. “No, no congratulations necessary. We did what we needed to for the sake of the ship and crew.” Jim tucks back into his mashed potatoes.
Spock is silent for a long time. He’s a weird guy, so Jim doesn’t take it personally, as a matter of fact Jim begins to fantasize about Ensign Jackson across the mess. “Our acquaintance is still...fresh, Captain, permission to speak freely.”
“Sure, you know you always have that.” Jim meets Spock’s eyes, dials back into the conversation.
“Captain, amongst humans there is a varied multiplicity of life bond relationships. It has been my experience that your species is...complicated in this area.”
Jim waits for him to continue and when he doesn’t, Jim clears his throat. “Yeah, that’s true, I guess, lots of different ways to get your groove on.”
“From what I have witnessed, the modality of your relationship with Doctor McCoy is one of the more traditionally available in human experience.”
Behind Spock a commotion arises as Scott has launched a piece of maki off his table and into the hair of one of his engineers. “Yeah, I had the same conversation with another buddy of mine, she’s the one who pointed out that marriage is just a contract anyway, so it made sense.”
“This is not at all what I meant, Captain. You have misunderstood me in on a fundamental level.”
“Yeah?” Jim says. “Ok.” He scurries over to check out the sushi-launching device.
*
The prompt: Kirk may be starfleet's golden boy, but that only goes so far.
Kirk knows what crew he wants for the Enterprise, but he doesn't have the seniority to get everyone he wants. Bones is going to be transferred BUT there is a loophole in starfleet regulations that allows married couples to serve on the same ship...
This got a bit long for posting over there. Egads. I think it will have a sequel, too. *weeps*
The best laid plans of Starfleet Captains.
It goes like this:
They send Pike to lay the news on him.
"Jim, we need to talk."
Now Jim's not ancient, but he's perpetrated a lot of bullshit that’s caused people to "need to talk" to him. He knows the tone, and he knows the way people's mouths set into determined lines when they use it.
"Whatever it is, I didn't do it." He tosses off a grin. Jim's feelin' golden about right now, promotion, commission locked down, triumph thrown in the faces of haters. He knows he's an asshole for not being appropriately depressed about Vulcan and the loss of Federation personnel all the live-long day, but personal elation and general misery can coincide.
"Look, kid, believe me when I tell you I wouldn't buy that off of Jesus Christ himself if he had your shit-eater." Pike's Pike and that feels easy and right. "This is about the Enterprise crew."
Jim dampens back the bullshit and dials into the situation. "Shoot."
"You know you're not going to get the full crew for the five year shot, right?" Pike's up on crutches now, hobbling around. He leans against the desk in Jim's quarters.
"No, I don't think I know what you're talking about." This had actually crossed his mind. The duty roster for the Enterprise had been written up a longass time before Jim swanned into the captain's seat.
"Some of the original crew survived Vulcan and they're being reallocated accordingly." Pike lifts an eyebrow. "The big shake up's going to be in Sickbay."
RED ALERT.
"Go on," Jim crosses his arms over his chest. He knows it's a tell and couldn't give less of a shit.
"You know what I'm saying, kiddo, don't make me do this the hard way." Pike never drops his gaze from Jim's eyes. He's a tough old bastard. Jim wonders if he demanded to bear the news himself.
"No way..." Jim takes a step towards him.
"Jim, he's too good, they want him on the space port..."
"No fucking way am I going out into the black for five years without Bones, Admiral." Jim's remembering to use ranks and honorifics more these days. But barely. He feels the rage he's learned to harness right under his skin, black and thick, slowing his heartbeats down and distilling the moment into fragments strung together by Jim's own anger.
"My head can roll over this, I'm your sacrificial messenger, but I'll tell you right now that I went to the mat over this one. If your boy was just a little more sloppy, just a fraction less superlative, we wouldn't be talking about this, but when a room full of Admirals are looking their own mortality in the face, son, let me tell you that they're going to cherry pick the best of the best for their own care. That's just facts."
Jim watches Pike collect himself, steady his weight on his crutches and exit the room with as much dignity as a busted up old codger can muster. Jim feels his heartbeat in his eyeballs.
He has a week and half to fix this.
*
Of course, the first hurdle is Bones.
"Why's Pike going around telling people my duty assignments without my permission? That's not ethical, even for this man's army." Bones is standing in front of a life-size holo projection of some kind of squid-headed alien. He's, of course, working even though they're supposed to be on R&R.
"What you're focusing on is the fact that Pike is talking out of school? Didn't you catch the part where you've landed Sol-duty?"
"Yes, I've also forgotten how to speak Standard, so go back to the beginning, teach me what words mean then we'll revisit my posting." Bones hits keys on the machine in front of him and the squid-headed alien morphs into a Andorran.
Jim reads the situation without having to consider it--some call that instinct, Jim thinks it's more training. He knows this guy. "You already knew."
This is one of those moments that proves how much Jim has changed in the last three years. His first instinct isn't to lash out and punch Bones in the face. No, there's no simplicity of black-out rage and the mindless physicality of brawling. Instead...and Jim can't even believe he can admit this in his own mind...he's hurt.
Bones is a compassionate man. He covers that with the endless insults and sneering. People as vulnerable as Bones have to construct an exoskeleton to protect their thin skin and endless capacity for being wounded. "Yeah, but just today. Why do you think I'm in here working when the sun's out?"
This is true. Not even Bones would work away an achingly bright day on the Bay if he wasn't hiding from himself. Jim brushes a hand over his head. "Ok, ok, we'll work it out."
Bones sighs long and deep. "Never thought I'd see the day I'd want to jump on a metal death trap and fly halfway across the universe, my certain demise be damned." He flicks his eyes over Jim's face before settling on his "you idiot!" expression. "Also leave it to you to steal my goddamned thunder. I've been in here for five damned hours trying to figure out how I was going to break it to you. You asshole."
Jim smiles reflexively. Yes, they'll work it out.
*
Gaila, of course, presents the solution. They're nestled in the Officer's canteen sipping plum wine and eating rice balls when she lays her hand over his. "Jim." She has a way of saying a person's name that's troubling, like she just stepped on a piece of your soul. You have no choice but to pay attention for as long as she wants you to. His eyes meet hers. "Did your parents not face the same dilemma?"
"What?" Hadn't they been talking about Admiral Archer?
"Humans are so weird. Marriage is a transient circumstance for humans, correct? A bond undertaken for a purpose, child-rearing, peace of mind, transfer of property?" She tilts her head back and forth watching him. “Did I get that wrong? Sometimes I misunderstand.” She knocks back her wine.
“No, I think you about got that. Most people don’t look at it that way, but, yeah, that’s about right.” Jim watches Bones at the bar chit-chatting with Pugh. Bones is laughing wide open and pink-faced, his making fun of people laugh. It looks good on him.
*
“Listen, this is reasonable.” Jim plants his hands on his hips.
“You don’t know the meaning of the word reasonable, Jim.” Bones cracks his neck and sighs.
Jim cuts the shit. “I don’t think there’s another way.” Jim drops down onto the couch next to Bones, their bodies meeting at shoulders, elbows, knees.
“So you think we should get married because there’s no other option?” Bones’s face is flushed from booze and anger, he needs to shave.
“Isn’t that the cultural tradition?” Jim’s not even kidding.
Bones laughs in response. “Touche.” He laughs harder and turns his face up to the ceiling. “You know I don’t know if it’s more fucked up that you think this is reasonable or that I’m frankly considering it. I used to be a pretty normal guy.”
“People get married for all kinds of dumber reasons than this. Love, for example.” Jim slaps Bones’s leg and leaps up. “So, I think payback is in order in the form of asking Pike to officiate.”
“No ceremony, Jim. Just the paperwork.” Bones slinks off with an air of a man trailing a thousand pound weight. Jim watches his back and knows he’s played this all wrong.
*
The paperwork to declare yourself legally partnered basically consists of registering altered wills, living wills, property manifests and the like with the Federation. The Fleet paperwork is way worse because you have to fill out like ten different forms for each level of hierarchy. Bones is protesting the entire situation by making Jim spend his precious precious R&R time with this shitty paperwork. Jim retaliates by doing it while drunk.
“Fuck yooooooooooouu,” Jim sings and throws rude gestures at the computer screen. “Fuck everyone you ever knew, fucking Starfleet motherfuckers!”
“Going well, then, Captain?” Scotty strolls into Jim’s quarters without the door even pinging.
“How’d you do that?” Jim leans back in his seat.
“Would I be me if I couldn’t accomplish such a small sabotage job?” Scotty has a bottle. He’s Jim’s best friend. “Here.” He offers Jim the bottle. “From Engineering. For taking one for Scotland.”
“You mean the team?” When Jim looks up at his face, Montgomery Scott is smiling big and broad and not at all like he’s up to some prank.
“Aye, and nay. But make of it what you will. Not a one of the crew would have done less.” With that he gives a half hearted salute and leaves again.
“What the fuck?” Jim examines the bottle and whistles. Vintage absinthe.
*
Three days before the full crew moves on to the Enterprise to prepare for departure, Jim comes up from the cloud of self-delusion he’s been huffing to look himself square in the eye. He and Bones are married. Jim didn’t even hesitate to make that decision. Bones gave up a gig in their home solar system to commit to the Enterprise. Jim has perhaps been missing the bigger picture.
That doesn’t mean he knows what to do about that. Jim has his limits when it comes to picking apart his feelings or even really having feelings he’s aware of for that matter. People fall in love with Jim a lot. He just waits it out for them to learn to hate him or to just get over it. One or the other always happens because he’s practiced at not encouraging people.
But this time he might have done a touch of encouraging. Jim, now that he’s really dealing with it, isn’t going to pretend the encouraging began when Bones got a Sol posting. Fuck no, Jim started winding that guy around his life years ago. Without a goal in mind. Jim never intended marriage and a five year commitment to space exploration and trying not to get killed.
Oh well, he was fucking double dog dared into joining Starfleet, Jim is completely the kind of guy who gets married because he’s codependent and not willing to give up his drinking buddy.
“Jim,” Bones disturbs his thoughts. Jim’s in his quarters, caught mid unpacking by his little mental idyll.
Bones has a glower about him that suggests he might actually be angry and not just simmering for the cameras. “Yes?” Jim’s not going to walk into anything.
“I just had a little visit in Sickbay.” His fists pop onto his hips.
“And?” Jim prompts.
“And I’ve been informed that our marriage is, and I quote, highly suspect and subject for review by Starfleet Command. Admiral Chu came down her own damned self to lay down the law!”
“They came aboard ship without hailing me and asking my leave?” Jim snaps his fingers three times rapidly. “How many people were in the party?” Jim is, in a word, fucking livid.
“I think you’re focusing on the wrong aspect of my tale.” Bones appears just as angry. “I won’t have any goddamned hopped up Admiral sniffing around my private life because she’s worried her yearly stress test will otherwise be overseen by a talking parrot! This is ludicrous. I belong in the field with people who need someone who’s had some battlefield experience...you’re not listening to a goddamned thing I’m sayin’!” He’s yelling and Jim hears him, but Bones’s right, Jim’s furiously hailing the bridge.
“Lt Uhura!” Jim shouts.
“Yes, Captain?” She doesn’t sound all that impressed.
“Did Admiral Chu’s party hail the ship before beaming aboard?” He slaps the console.
“It is protocol for the Communications Officer to forward such messages, Captain.” Oh nice, well, fuck you, too.
“Just checking,” he’s a little less angry. She cracks him up. “Kirk out.”
“Jim, can we focus on this other issue?”
“Don’t you see?” Jim leaps out of his chair. “She broke protocol! Even if she does launch an inquest, I’m going to file a preemptive complaint against her for violating protocol so it will look like she’s got a grudge.” Jim’s anger has turned over into triumph.
“I see. Well, I’m glad to see you displaying a sharp tactical mind. Makes me a little less sure of my swift demise at the hands of space vultures.”
*
“I understand congratulations are in order for you and the Doctor, Captain.” Spock looks at Jim from across the table in the mess with his impassive glacial stare.
“Are you taking the piss?”
“Being that the literal interpretation of that expression would be a most illogical utterance for even you, Captain, I must infer that you’re using a turn of phrase I am as yet unacquainted with.” Spock sips his tea to punctuate that.
“Are you making fun of me?” Jim tries again.
“Captain, mockery of the sort about which you inquire is greatly distasteful to me. I would never engage you in this manner.”
Jim has a feeling Spock’s having a huge multilayered joke at Jim’s expense, but he lets it go. “No, no congratulations necessary. We did what we needed to for the sake of the ship and crew.” Jim tucks back into his mashed potatoes.
Spock is silent for a long time. He’s a weird guy, so Jim doesn’t take it personally, as a matter of fact Jim begins to fantasize about Ensign Jackson across the mess. “Our acquaintance is still...fresh, Captain, permission to speak freely.”
“Sure, you know you always have that.” Jim meets Spock’s eyes, dials back into the conversation.
“Captain, amongst humans there is a varied multiplicity of life bond relationships. It has been my experience that your species is...complicated in this area.”
Jim waits for him to continue and when he doesn’t, Jim clears his throat. “Yeah, that’s true, I guess, lots of different ways to get your groove on.”
“From what I have witnessed, the modality of your relationship with Doctor McCoy is one of the more traditionally available in human experience.”
Behind Spock a commotion arises as Scott has launched a piece of maki off his table and into the hair of one of his engineers. “Yeah, I had the same conversation with another buddy of mine, she’s the one who pointed out that marriage is just a contract anyway, so it made sense.”
“This is not at all what I meant, Captain. You have misunderstood me in on a fundamental level.”
“Yeah?” Jim says. “Ok.” He scurries over to check out the sushi-launching device.
*
The prompt: Kirk may be starfleet's golden boy, but that only goes so far.
Kirk knows what crew he wants for the Enterprise, but he doesn't have the seniority to get everyone he wants. Bones is going to be transferred BUT there is a loophole in starfleet regulations that allows married couples to serve on the same ship...