(Fic) Five Things About Kirk That Surprise Spock (1/1)
Title: Five Things About Kirk That Surprise Spock
Author: general_public
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble (mostly). Gen. Pre-slash Kirk/Spock if you squint
Word Count: 1,788
Author Notes: Written in second person (Spock) point of view. This fandom is addictive. I fear I may be enjoying my foray into Trek a little too much.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
I. His Empathy
There's nothing graceful or peaceful about death. Not here. The bodies littering the ground are scarred and bloody, dismembered, obliterated beyond recognition. Of a once vibrant and proud city there is only rubble and ruin. Even through the mask of smoke and ash, the devastation is easily seen.
The captain places a hand upon your shoulder and the touch is somehow alien and familiar at once. You hear him inhale and exhale and you wonder if his eyes would be momentarily closed, should you attempt to meet them. You do not. You give him the moment he apparently needs. His touch is very warm. You feel inexpiably cold when it's no longer there.
You are turning to leave when one of the bodies at your feet moves. You nearly lose your balance, but the body is that of a child and you look to the captain, who is already on his knees at the child's side. The child is crying quietly for its mother and you wonder if she is the woman lying nearby, deep blue skin almost buried under mounds of soot and dirt.
"Captain -"
The captain is singing. A lullaby, not dissimilar to the melodies you remember your own mother humming to you as a boy when you were ill or in distress. It's far from beautiful because there is a crack to the captain's voice which disrupts the natural rhythm of the language, but he rocks the child gently until she is at rest. Kirk removes his hand from where it had supported the back of the child's head; it is stained with blood. Kirk lays the girl back upon the ground and kisses her goodnight.
He looks up to you. For...guidance? Comfort? You do not know, but his hand seeks yours and you let him take it, and he's never asked to lean on you before but it feels like this has happened, somehow, in another life and so many times. You don't even need to meld to feel him; his emotions are in the wind; waves of helplessness and regret.
is this what happens when we're too late // my fault I did this // can already hear them screaming // just a child innocent people please someone have some fucking mercy
It's not his empathy that surprises you but the force of it; strong enough to rob you of your breath as it crashes into you and you're left longing to relive him of the crushing weight now upon his shoulders.
You cannot, but you let him hold your hand until the smoke clears.
II. His Loyalty
"Bones, put down the goddamn bourbon. They're not going to fire you. It's just a standard council they have to hold - "
You're walking through the corridors of the ship on your way to your post when you hear the captain. The door to Dr McCoy's office is open ajar and your step seems to slow of its own accord as you near it.
"When people fuck up. Yeah, I know you don't like to spend a whole lot of time there, Jim, but in reality? People who fuck up get fired. Face it, I'm gone."
"It was a mistake, Bones. It could have happened to anyone. You're a fucking amazing doctor and they know it. They'd be absolute idiots to let you go."
"Gonna lose everything again..." McCoy buries his head in his hands. Jim reaches out to him, caresses his shoulder. You cannot help watching, fascinated by the intimacy of their friendship. You were shunned by your peers as a youth and though you've found intimacy with Nyota, you lack understanding of a platonic companionship like this.
"Not quite everything," Kirk insists. "If go you, I go. I've already told them as much."
"You what?" McCoy clenches his fists. His face turns a curious combination of crimson and purple. "Jim, you -"
"Wouldn't even be here in the first place if you hadn't smuggled me aboard that day. So shut up. I owe you. I always will. It'll be okay, Bones."
McCoy sighs wearily and gives Kirk the bottle of alcohol and a smile. It's a small smile, but it's soft and affectionate and grateful and almost mirrored on your own face. There is the strangest sense of longing in your heart as you leave them to each other.
III. His Dedication
You've come to relive him of his shift when you find him asleep in the captain's chair. A small collection of books and papers have slipped to the floor, scattered haphazardly around his feet. You wake him carefully, a gentle hand upon his shoulder.
"'M awake..."
"Yes, Captain."
An almost irresistible smile tugs at your lips. Kirk pulls himself upright and rubs at his eyes. He yawns, stretches.
"Interesting reading, Captain?" you ask as you help him to retrieve his things from the ground.
"Research. Apparently the Uthli people are very sensitive. I'm all for eating dinner with them but I don't want to wind up as dinner."
"No, Captain." The force tugging at your lips becomes harder still to resist but you just hand him the second book, a heavy leather-bound volume that he can't possibly digest in time. "Would you like some assistance, Captain? I am reasonably well-versed on the traditions of the Uthli people."
"Thanks, Spock. I think I would. My quarters? We'll find someone else to cover your shift."
"Yes, Captain."
You remain awake long into the night, helping him to find the most important passages, reading aloud while he transcribes them onto pieces of paper in a rather old fashioned, but sufficient form of English short hand. He is completely engrossed in his studies and you find yourself in surprise and admiration of his eagerness to learn. Routinely, he will pause to ask a question, genuinely curious about foreign culture and not as ignorant as one might assume.
The next morning you watch him beam down to Okre IV and you know he will make the Federation - and you - suitably proud.
IV. His Patience
"Keptin - I am so, so sorry. Please don't throw me out of the airlock, I promise I will make this up to you!"
In the bed, Kirk frowns. Propped up by fresh pillows and cocooned in white linen, he is relaxed and content as he sat in bed reading. You, upon Dr McCoy's request, are keeping him company. "Keep him company" is, of course, code for "make sure the little asshole doesn't leave the med bay because if he does anything that prevents those wounds from healing properly, I'll shoot him myself. I've got better things to do than be his personal repair man."
So far Kirk has not made even one escape attempt but McCoy insists he's simply biding his time and that you are to watch him like a hawke until someone else can take over. You sit at his side and watch as he alternates between reading and napping. He's reading when Chekov bursts in and lowers the book cautiously, like the book could act as a shield against Chekov's nervous energy.
"Ensign Chekov?" You state his rank and name with enough authority for him to be still.
"Forgive me, Keptin. I know you're resting and I will go but I want you to know I will do anything, anything, just please don't dismiss me, or -"
"Throw you out of an airlock. Right." Kirk looks to you, raises an eyebrow, then back to Chekov. "Why do you think I'd dismiss you or throw you out of an airlock?"
"Dr McCoy said that 'friendly fire' is 'bullshit' and if he were you, he'd be wanting to throw me out of an airlock 'right about now'. Keptin."
Kirk puts the book down, leans back. He looks comfortable despite his injuries and the enforced bed rest, which he notoriously hates.
"Chekov," Kirk addresses him patiently, like a teacher speaking to a small child. "I'm going to tell you something about Dr McCoy. It might come as a shock you. Dr McCoy is mean. Dr McCoy is a grouchy bastard. And he's also probably just a little freaked out that his best friend nearly got killed again. Just avoid him until he's had some time to cool down."
"Yes, Keptin," Chekov nods eagerly. "I know this, but -"
"It's been a long couple of days for us all. We're lucky we're still in the air at all after that last attack. Do me a favour?"
"Anything, anything..."
"Stop apologising for your own existence. I'm not mad. I'm not going to dismiss you or throw you out of an airlock. Okay? It was an accident. Accidents happen. Understood, Ensign?"
Chekov looks like he doesn't quite believe him. You give the young ensign a look and he reluctantly nods to the captain.
"Understood, Keptin."
The young Russian leaves and Kirk sighs blissfully, sinking back into the pillows.
"It's like having children," he says mournfully. "Lots and lots of children..."
"Yes, Captain."
You just can't help but pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as he yawns and goes back to sleep.
X. His Spirit
You haven't taken shore leave before but this time he wants everyone to accompany him, speaking of 'team-bonding' and insisting it's a good thing. You eventually agree to attend, to the amazement of the crew and the bemusement of your father, and you tell yourself repeatedly you are only going because Nyota requested it, not because Jim's (you can't remember when you started to address him by his name and not his rank, just that it finally feels right) eyes were large and hopeful when he asked you.
He takes you to a snow planet, because several of the crew have never seen snow before and you regret your presence immediately; it's too cold and wet and you're not used to it, and Nyota's having too much fun with the others to remember you are there at all. Then you see Jim, running and leaping in the snow, and the joy in his face is so child-like and pure you can't help stare after them as Scotty tears after him across the ice.
"That will be the last snowball you ever throw, Captain!"
He manages to tackle Jim and push him down into the snow and you can't understand how something so senseless can bring joy to anyone, but Jim's laughter is loud as McCoy helps him up, and you want to laugh too and cannot understand why.
"Come on, Spock!" Jim suddenly notices you standing to the side and gestures with a gloved hand. "Join the fun!"
Sometimes you wish you could.
Author: general_public
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble (mostly). Gen. Pre-slash Kirk/Spock if you squint
Word Count: 1,788
Author Notes: Written in second person (Spock) point of view. This fandom is addictive. I fear I may be enjoying my foray into Trek a little too much.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
I. His Empathy
There's nothing graceful or peaceful about death. Not here. The bodies littering the ground are scarred and bloody, dismembered, obliterated beyond recognition. Of a once vibrant and proud city there is only rubble and ruin. Even through the mask of smoke and ash, the devastation is easily seen.
The captain places a hand upon your shoulder and the touch is somehow alien and familiar at once. You hear him inhale and exhale and you wonder if his eyes would be momentarily closed, should you attempt to meet them. You do not. You give him the moment he apparently needs. His touch is very warm. You feel inexpiably cold when it's no longer there.
You are turning to leave when one of the bodies at your feet moves. You nearly lose your balance, but the body is that of a child and you look to the captain, who is already on his knees at the child's side. The child is crying quietly for its mother and you wonder if she is the woman lying nearby, deep blue skin almost buried under mounds of soot and dirt.
"Captain -"
The captain is singing. A lullaby, not dissimilar to the melodies you remember your own mother humming to you as a boy when you were ill or in distress. It's far from beautiful because there is a crack to the captain's voice which disrupts the natural rhythm of the language, but he rocks the child gently until she is at rest. Kirk removes his hand from where it had supported the back of the child's head; it is stained with blood. Kirk lays the girl back upon the ground and kisses her goodnight.
He looks up to you. For...guidance? Comfort? You do not know, but his hand seeks yours and you let him take it, and he's never asked to lean on you before but it feels like this has happened, somehow, in another life and so many times. You don't even need to meld to feel him; his emotions are in the wind; waves of helplessness and regret.
is this what happens when we're too late // my fault I did this // can already hear them screaming // just a child innocent people please someone have some fucking mercy
It's not his empathy that surprises you but the force of it; strong enough to rob you of your breath as it crashes into you and you're left longing to relive him of the crushing weight now upon his shoulders.
You cannot, but you let him hold your hand until the smoke clears.
II. His Loyalty
"Bones, put down the goddamn bourbon. They're not going to fire you. It's just a standard council they have to hold - "
You're walking through the corridors of the ship on your way to your post when you hear the captain. The door to Dr McCoy's office is open ajar and your step seems to slow of its own accord as you near it.
"When people fuck up. Yeah, I know you don't like to spend a whole lot of time there, Jim, but in reality? People who fuck up get fired. Face it, I'm gone."
"It was a mistake, Bones. It could have happened to anyone. You're a fucking amazing doctor and they know it. They'd be absolute idiots to let you go."
"Gonna lose everything again..." McCoy buries his head in his hands. Jim reaches out to him, caresses his shoulder. You cannot help watching, fascinated by the intimacy of their friendship. You were shunned by your peers as a youth and though you've found intimacy with Nyota, you lack understanding of a platonic companionship like this.
"Not quite everything," Kirk insists. "If go you, I go. I've already told them as much."
"You what?" McCoy clenches his fists. His face turns a curious combination of crimson and purple. "Jim, you -"
"Wouldn't even be here in the first place if you hadn't smuggled me aboard that day. So shut up. I owe you. I always will. It'll be okay, Bones."
McCoy sighs wearily and gives Kirk the bottle of alcohol and a smile. It's a small smile, but it's soft and affectionate and grateful and almost mirrored on your own face. There is the strangest sense of longing in your heart as you leave them to each other.
III. His Dedication
You've come to relive him of his shift when you find him asleep in the captain's chair. A small collection of books and papers have slipped to the floor, scattered haphazardly around his feet. You wake him carefully, a gentle hand upon his shoulder.
"'M awake..."
"Yes, Captain."
An almost irresistible smile tugs at your lips. Kirk pulls himself upright and rubs at his eyes. He yawns, stretches.
"Interesting reading, Captain?" you ask as you help him to retrieve his things from the ground.
"Research. Apparently the Uthli people are very sensitive. I'm all for eating dinner with them but I don't want to wind up as dinner."
"No, Captain." The force tugging at your lips becomes harder still to resist but you just hand him the second book, a heavy leather-bound volume that he can't possibly digest in time. "Would you like some assistance, Captain? I am reasonably well-versed on the traditions of the Uthli people."
"Thanks, Spock. I think I would. My quarters? We'll find someone else to cover your shift."
"Yes, Captain."
You remain awake long into the night, helping him to find the most important passages, reading aloud while he transcribes them onto pieces of paper in a rather old fashioned, but sufficient form of English short hand. He is completely engrossed in his studies and you find yourself in surprise and admiration of his eagerness to learn. Routinely, he will pause to ask a question, genuinely curious about foreign culture and not as ignorant as one might assume.
The next morning you watch him beam down to Okre IV and you know he will make the Federation - and you - suitably proud.
IV. His Patience
"Keptin - I am so, so sorry. Please don't throw me out of the airlock, I promise I will make this up to you!"
In the bed, Kirk frowns. Propped up by fresh pillows and cocooned in white linen, he is relaxed and content as he sat in bed reading. You, upon Dr McCoy's request, are keeping him company. "Keep him company" is, of course, code for "make sure the little asshole doesn't leave the med bay because if he does anything that prevents those wounds from healing properly, I'll shoot him myself. I've got better things to do than be his personal repair man."
So far Kirk has not made even one escape attempt but McCoy insists he's simply biding his time and that you are to watch him like a hawke until someone else can take over. You sit at his side and watch as he alternates between reading and napping. He's reading when Chekov bursts in and lowers the book cautiously, like the book could act as a shield against Chekov's nervous energy.
"Ensign Chekov?" You state his rank and name with enough authority for him to be still.
"Forgive me, Keptin. I know you're resting and I will go but I want you to know I will do anything, anything, just please don't dismiss me, or -"
"Throw you out of an airlock. Right." Kirk looks to you, raises an eyebrow, then back to Chekov. "Why do you think I'd dismiss you or throw you out of an airlock?"
"Dr McCoy said that 'friendly fire' is 'bullshit' and if he were you, he'd be wanting to throw me out of an airlock 'right about now'. Keptin."
Kirk puts the book down, leans back. He looks comfortable despite his injuries and the enforced bed rest, which he notoriously hates.
"Chekov," Kirk addresses him patiently, like a teacher speaking to a small child. "I'm going to tell you something about Dr McCoy. It might come as a shock you. Dr McCoy is mean. Dr McCoy is a grouchy bastard. And he's also probably just a little freaked out that his best friend nearly got killed again. Just avoid him until he's had some time to cool down."
"Yes, Keptin," Chekov nods eagerly. "I know this, but -"
"It's been a long couple of days for us all. We're lucky we're still in the air at all after that last attack. Do me a favour?"
"Anything, anything..."
"Stop apologising for your own existence. I'm not mad. I'm not going to dismiss you or throw you out of an airlock. Okay? It was an accident. Accidents happen. Understood, Ensign?"
Chekov looks like he doesn't quite believe him. You give the young ensign a look and he reluctantly nods to the captain.
"Understood, Keptin."
The young Russian leaves and Kirk sighs blissfully, sinking back into the pillows.
"It's like having children," he says mournfully. "Lots and lots of children..."
"Yes, Captain."
You just can't help but pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as he yawns and goes back to sleep.
X. His Spirit
You haven't taken shore leave before but this time he wants everyone to accompany him, speaking of 'team-bonding' and insisting it's a good thing. You eventually agree to attend, to the amazement of the crew and the bemusement of your father, and you tell yourself repeatedly you are only going because Nyota requested it, not because Jim's (you can't remember when you started to address him by his name and not his rank, just that it finally feels right) eyes were large and hopeful when he asked you.
He takes you to a snow planet, because several of the crew have never seen snow before and you regret your presence immediately; it's too cold and wet and you're not used to it, and Nyota's having too much fun with the others to remember you are there at all. Then you see Jim, running and leaping in the snow, and the joy in his face is so child-like and pure you can't help stare after them as Scotty tears after him across the ice.
"That will be the last snowball you ever throw, Captain!"
He manages to tackle Jim and push him down into the snow and you can't understand how something so senseless can bring joy to anyone, but Jim's laughter is loud as McCoy helps him up, and you want to laugh too and cannot understand why.
"Come on, Spock!" Jim suddenly notices you standing to the side and gestures with a gloved hand. "Join the fun!"
Sometimes you wish you could.