fic; star trex xi; five people who tried to look after jim kirk and one who succeeded
Title: five people who tried to look after jim kirk and one who succeeded
Author: acetamide
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy, Kirk/Gaila
Rating: PG-13
Warning: None.
Word Count: 2,620
five people who tried to look after jim kirk and one who succeeded
***
Winona Kirk
“You want to explain this to me?”
Jim slouches in the chair opposite Winona, determinedly ignoring the report card that she clutching. His jeans are scuffed at the knee and his hands are red and she wonders what he's been up to this time, but that's a conversation for later.
“Well?
“Well what?”
“You want to tell me why you're failing in more than half of your school subjects? And why more than half of your teachers are saying that you're lazy?”
“My teachers don't know jack about me,” Jim grumbles, folding his arms over his chest and slouching even further, if that were possible.
“They know how you're doing in your classes. And they say that you're failing.”
“The stuff they teach us is trash, it's not stuff worth knowing later on in life.”
“You’re in seventh grade, Jim, you’re not learning life lessons right now. Is it that you're struggling, is that the problem?” she tries, casting out for more ideas for what could be the cause of this. “If the work's too hard we can get in a tutor, I've got connections with plenty of people in Starfleet who'd be happy to help out...”
She trails off because Jim's face has suddenly changed from sullen and reticent to a sneer, his lips curling as he stands abruptly from the chair.
“Jeez, mom, do you think I'm stupid or something?” he says and he manages to twist and snarl the words on their way out so that it hurts, because that's not a tone of voice that a mother ever wants to hear her son use. Especially not to her. But she doesn't blink, just keeps staring at him with a straight back and a firm mouth.
“Well, you're sure as hell making me think it but if you're not, then you've got no excuse not to work hard and get those grades back up now do you?”
The sneer morphs into a scowl and he stomps away without another word, his feet heavy on the stairs. Winona doesn't move from her spot on the sofa until she's heard his bedroom door slam, and even then all she does is sigh and all of the tension flows from her body.
She knows that her son's a bright boy, no matter how he might act and within a month, his grades have soared until he’s the best student that the teachers have ever had, lauded left and right and nearly always on the honor roll.
It’s several years before Winona realizes just how brilliant he is, and why he didn’t bother in school.
***
Frank
Jim's dragging his feet as he walks back to the house, his hands pushed deep into his pockets and his clothes covered with dust from the road. The police officer told him what happened. Frank's not sure if he should be worried that Jim nearly killed himself or angry because that Corvette's not rusting away at the bottom of the cliff.
“You can't just run off and pull stuff like that, kid,” he says as he catches up with Jim, keeping a stride behind as they climb the few steps onto the porch and then through the front door. “It's irresponsible and dangerous, and you could have hurt yourself.”
“Yeah well I didn't, did I?” Jim growls, filling a glass with water and taking a long gulp. He's left a trail of dust through the house and Winona'll be pissed if that's not cleaned by the time she gets home. “And you can't tell me what to do, you're not my dad.”
“I know, you've reminded me five times already this week. But that doesn't mean you can just do whatever you want, it doesn't work that way. And especially not stuff that could get you killed.”
“As if you care.”
“Yeah, I do care!” Frank shouts, because he's seriously had enough of trying to convince this kid that he wouldn't throw him out on his ear if Winona didn't love the shit out of him. “I don't want you getting hurt any more than your mom does.”
“Please. You're only saying this because you know that if I hadn't jumped outta that car in time, mom would have thrown you out on your ear. I'm not stupid, Frank.”
And now, Frank's just tired of repeating the same conversation over and over again so he's doesn't say anything as Jim pushes past him and out the back door. He just watches him and realizes that he didn't really rip into him enough for trashing the car in the first place.
It’s another half hour before he realises that George has up and left. But he can’t bring himself to care.
***
Christopher Pike
“You're a mess.”
At least Kirk doesn't deny it, and Pike decides that it's a point in his favor. Not that Kirk deserves any points in his favor, since he's currently bleeding all over his own clothes in exactly the same way as he was two weeks ago when they met in that seedy bar in Iowa. Pike tries to tell himself that he should have expected it.
“You come to lecture me or take me home?” Kirk asks flatly, sniffing and scrunching up his probably broken nose, and Pike makes a note to check with that doctor friend of Kirk's in the morning, make sure the kid got himself patched up.
“Both. You do realize that the Academy doesn't accept behavior like this?”
“Hey, you're the one that wanted me, remember? I can walk out of this place and not regret it,” Kirk counters, swaying slightly on his feet as they make their way across to the shuttle, and Pike turns to him with a raised eyebrow.
“And go back to what? Your pathetic non-existence where you're just going to end up drunk and beaten up every other night? No, there was a reason why you came to that shipyard two weeks ago and I'll bet you don't really want to leave that much. But if you don't get your act together then Starfleet will throw you out. We don't have space for time-wasters.”
“Is this an official warning, Captain Pike?” Kirk drawls as he leans his head back against the seat, eyes closed and blood trickling down into his mouth, and Pike's struggling not to snap and knock some sense into him.
“No. Luckily for you, it's an informal chat. An informal warning that you're going to find yourself back in Iowa faster than you expected if you keep this up. For fuck's sake, Kirk, the bartender said that you started on the guy for no reason at all. Are you really that stupid?”
“I'm not stupid,” Kirk bites, a sudden harshness to his voice, and Pike glances across to see those bright blue eyes flashing angrily at him. He looks away.
“Well then sort yourself out. I don't want to have to be signing your release forms. I know you're good when you're on top of your game. Just make sure the people in charge see it too.”
Kirk doesn't say anything for the rest of the journey back to the Academy. Pike isn't sure if he's grateful or not.
***
Gaila
“No.”
“Oh, come on, Gaila. It's just one subroutine, it's not as if I'm asking you to give me the access codes to the highest confidentiality stuff in Starfleet!”
“It's cheating, Jim, and you're better than that. You don't need to break the rules to show them how good you are, you know that. I'm not going to help you be irresponsible.”
Gaila knows that she's not projecting the best image of authority right now, sprawled naked on her bed with strands of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, but then Jim hardly looks better. She resists glancing down and distracting herself.
“Look, I've tried doing it the normal way twice and it didn't work. Think of it as me using my initiative, if that makes it better,” he suggests, leaning in to press soft kisses to her shoulder and work his way up to her jaw, and she smiles despite herself.
“More like using my intelligence,” she points out playfully, turning onto her side so that she can pinch his nipple, and he winces, twitching away. “Hell knows it far outstrips yours.”
Jim stiffens slightly under her touch, his eyes going dark and hooded, and then they suddenly take on a feral gleam and he shifts onto his elbows to push her onto her back.
“The subroutine. I need it,” he repeats, his voice low and his breath warm against her skin, and she arches up into his touch.
“I said no. Not a word I normally use, but this time I'm sticking with it.”
Jim tilts his head to one side, a curious look passing over his face, and then he shifts and swings his leg over her to straddle her, grinding down and kissing her.
A week later, Kirk cheats on the Kobiyashi Maru and Uhura tells her that she talks in her sleep. She knows that the two are related and feels like an idiot.
***
Spock
The Captain has been running on zero energy for approximately three hours and fourteen minutes when Spock decides to step in. He leans in close to Jim, keeping his voice low so as not to let the rest of the Bridge overhear.
“Captain, I believe that it would be in the best interest of everyone if you were to go and rest for a few hours. I can easily cover the rest of this shift and the next,” he says quietly, and Jim doesn't respond for a few seconds. He just keeps staring out past the helm into space and he finally does turn to Spock, his eyes are dull and slightly unfocused.
“I'm fine.”
Spock waits for further comment but the Captain does not offer any. His breathing is shallow and his skin pale, and yet he is refusing to accept that he needs to rest. He is being unnecessarily stubborn, even by his own standards.
“You are still recovering from the virus that you contracted last week, Captain. Your reflexes are slowed and your mental facilities weakened. With the recent injuries and crew shortages, you are exhausting yourself. Very soon you will be unable to maintain control effectively. I would strongly suggest that you take the rest of the shift off, at least. I am more than capable of taking the conn whilst you rest,” he reasons, because sometimes Jim Kirk will listen to logic, but it appears that today is not one of those occasions because he looks back up at Spock with a strange sort of anger written across his face.
“I know my own limits, Spock. And didn't I tell you to run through the reports of that other ship, see why they exploded? Just follow my orders and stop poking in your nose where it's not welcome. Is that clear?” he snaps, and Sulu glances around briefly at the raised voice. Spock pauses for a moment before inclining his head, a faint pang of humiliation registering.
“Of course, Captain.”
Spock doesn't miss the way that Jim's hands are shaking as they both turn their attention back to their appropriate stations.
***
Leonard McCoy
McCoy had been preparing to use a medical override to gain access to Jim's quarters but when he pauses at the door, Jim just comms him in and looks up as he comes through the door. He's sat clutching a mug of coffee and he's wound as tight as a spring - the familiar curve of his shoulders is bent and straightened out of shape and his hands are gripping the mug a little too tight, and his eyes are dark and drawn. McCoy has no idea how long he's been sat there.
“You going to clear me for duty yet?” he asks shortly, glaring up at McCoy as though he's personally offended him, and McCoy shakes his head firmly.
“You're in no state to be in control of this vessel and you damn well know it,” he says flatly, and Jim just scowls at him briefly before staring back at his coffee.
“They why are you here?”
“I came to check on you. I haven't seen you all day.”
“Maybe I just want to be left alone.”
“Jim.”
“Bones,” Jim says scathingly, glancing up again. “I'm not a little kid. You don't have to check up on me just because it's been twelve hours since I last saw you. Careful, I'll start thinking you're getting clingy on me.”
“Stop it,” McCoy growls, coming to stand in front of him where he's sat on the sofa. “Jim, your mother and stepfather just died. You're allowed to be upset.”
“I can't afford to be upset, Bones,” Jim scoffs, alternately staring down at the mug and then at the chrono. As if he's counting down the minutes until he can try and get back on shift. McCoy doesn't care for this shit at all.
“That's bullshit and you know it.”
“Really?” Jim spits back, his eyes narrowing as he leans back against the cushions. “You mean I don't have to project a calm, controlled and confident front to my crewmembers at all times? You mean I can - to quote our favorite First Officer - roam the halls weeping? Because that's great. I'll just get right on it, shall I?”
“You're being ridiculous.”
“No, I'm not,” he bites, his knuckles whitening where he's gripping the mug, and Bones scowls.
“Yeah, you fucking are. I don't know if you're trying to prove yourself or something with all this but I can see right through you and I know you're really hurting inside, you're just not showing it. Well you're not a goddamn Vulcan so stop it. Show some remorse and take some time off and deal, Jim. Nobody's going to think less of you.”
Jim doesn't reply for a moment - he's just silent, staring at the mug on the table, and the coffee inside that must be cold by now. He's not as tense any more at least - McCoy can see that the line of his shoulder is back to how it should be, and his knuckles aren't white where his fingers are balled into fists. He's not quite there yet though.
“Stop trying to be super-human,” he says softly, and rests his hand carefully at the base of Jim's neck. Jim immediately leans into the touch so he shifts, sitting on the arm of the sofa and guiding Jim's head to his chest.
“If I don't dwell on it, I can pretend it didn't happen, you know?” Jim says tightly, his voice rumbling through McCoy's ribcage, and McCoy pushes his fingers through the blond hair and feels one cautious hand clutching at his shirt and the other gripping his hip. “I don't want to think about it.”
“You have to,” McCoy says simply, and slides from the arm and onto the sofa proper. It's an awkward fit and Jim has to shift over, but it's comfortable and normal and warm with their limbs wrapped around each other. If this was one of those crappy romance novels that Jocelyn used to read, Jim would burst into tears and pour out all of his emotions and they'd end up having sex to make it all better.
Only it's not, and they fall asleep in the same position without having said another word. But that's okay, because McCoy knows that the healing process has started. He is a doctor, after all.
***
end.
***
Author: acetamide
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy, Kirk/Gaila
Rating: PG-13
Warning: None.
Word Count: 2,620
five people who tried to look after jim kirk and one who succeeded
***
Winona Kirk
“You want to explain this to me?”
Jim slouches in the chair opposite Winona, determinedly ignoring the report card that she clutching. His jeans are scuffed at the knee and his hands are red and she wonders what he's been up to this time, but that's a conversation for later.
“Well?
“Well what?”
“You want to tell me why you're failing in more than half of your school subjects? And why more than half of your teachers are saying that you're lazy?”
“My teachers don't know jack about me,” Jim grumbles, folding his arms over his chest and slouching even further, if that were possible.
“They know how you're doing in your classes. And they say that you're failing.”
“The stuff they teach us is trash, it's not stuff worth knowing later on in life.”
“You’re in seventh grade, Jim, you’re not learning life lessons right now. Is it that you're struggling, is that the problem?” she tries, casting out for more ideas for what could be the cause of this. “If the work's too hard we can get in a tutor, I've got connections with plenty of people in Starfleet who'd be happy to help out...”
She trails off because Jim's face has suddenly changed from sullen and reticent to a sneer, his lips curling as he stands abruptly from the chair.
“Jeez, mom, do you think I'm stupid or something?” he says and he manages to twist and snarl the words on their way out so that it hurts, because that's not a tone of voice that a mother ever wants to hear her son use. Especially not to her. But she doesn't blink, just keeps staring at him with a straight back and a firm mouth.
“Well, you're sure as hell making me think it but if you're not, then you've got no excuse not to work hard and get those grades back up now do you?”
The sneer morphs into a scowl and he stomps away without another word, his feet heavy on the stairs. Winona doesn't move from her spot on the sofa until she's heard his bedroom door slam, and even then all she does is sigh and all of the tension flows from her body.
She knows that her son's a bright boy, no matter how he might act and within a month, his grades have soared until he’s the best student that the teachers have ever had, lauded left and right and nearly always on the honor roll.
It’s several years before Winona realizes just how brilliant he is, and why he didn’t bother in school.
***
Frank
Jim's dragging his feet as he walks back to the house, his hands pushed deep into his pockets and his clothes covered with dust from the road. The police officer told him what happened. Frank's not sure if he should be worried that Jim nearly killed himself or angry because that Corvette's not rusting away at the bottom of the cliff.
“You can't just run off and pull stuff like that, kid,” he says as he catches up with Jim, keeping a stride behind as they climb the few steps onto the porch and then through the front door. “It's irresponsible and dangerous, and you could have hurt yourself.”
“Yeah well I didn't, did I?” Jim growls, filling a glass with water and taking a long gulp. He's left a trail of dust through the house and Winona'll be pissed if that's not cleaned by the time she gets home. “And you can't tell me what to do, you're not my dad.”
“I know, you've reminded me five times already this week. But that doesn't mean you can just do whatever you want, it doesn't work that way. And especially not stuff that could get you killed.”
“As if you care.”
“Yeah, I do care!” Frank shouts, because he's seriously had enough of trying to convince this kid that he wouldn't throw him out on his ear if Winona didn't love the shit out of him. “I don't want you getting hurt any more than your mom does.”
“Please. You're only saying this because you know that if I hadn't jumped outta that car in time, mom would have thrown you out on your ear. I'm not stupid, Frank.”
And now, Frank's just tired of repeating the same conversation over and over again so he's doesn't say anything as Jim pushes past him and out the back door. He just watches him and realizes that he didn't really rip into him enough for trashing the car in the first place.
It’s another half hour before he realises that George has up and left. But he can’t bring himself to care.
***
Christopher Pike
“You're a mess.”
At least Kirk doesn't deny it, and Pike decides that it's a point in his favor. Not that Kirk deserves any points in his favor, since he's currently bleeding all over his own clothes in exactly the same way as he was two weeks ago when they met in that seedy bar in Iowa. Pike tries to tell himself that he should have expected it.
“You come to lecture me or take me home?” Kirk asks flatly, sniffing and scrunching up his probably broken nose, and Pike makes a note to check with that doctor friend of Kirk's in the morning, make sure the kid got himself patched up.
“Both. You do realize that the Academy doesn't accept behavior like this?”
“Hey, you're the one that wanted me, remember? I can walk out of this place and not regret it,” Kirk counters, swaying slightly on his feet as they make their way across to the shuttle, and Pike turns to him with a raised eyebrow.
“And go back to what? Your pathetic non-existence where you're just going to end up drunk and beaten up every other night? No, there was a reason why you came to that shipyard two weeks ago and I'll bet you don't really want to leave that much. But if you don't get your act together then Starfleet will throw you out. We don't have space for time-wasters.”
“Is this an official warning, Captain Pike?” Kirk drawls as he leans his head back against the seat, eyes closed and blood trickling down into his mouth, and Pike's struggling not to snap and knock some sense into him.
“No. Luckily for you, it's an informal chat. An informal warning that you're going to find yourself back in Iowa faster than you expected if you keep this up. For fuck's sake, Kirk, the bartender said that you started on the guy for no reason at all. Are you really that stupid?”
“I'm not stupid,” Kirk bites, a sudden harshness to his voice, and Pike glances across to see those bright blue eyes flashing angrily at him. He looks away.
“Well then sort yourself out. I don't want to have to be signing your release forms. I know you're good when you're on top of your game. Just make sure the people in charge see it too.”
Kirk doesn't say anything for the rest of the journey back to the Academy. Pike isn't sure if he's grateful or not.
***
Gaila
“No.”
“Oh, come on, Gaila. It's just one subroutine, it's not as if I'm asking you to give me the access codes to the highest confidentiality stuff in Starfleet!”
“It's cheating, Jim, and you're better than that. You don't need to break the rules to show them how good you are, you know that. I'm not going to help you be irresponsible.”
Gaila knows that she's not projecting the best image of authority right now, sprawled naked on her bed with strands of hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, but then Jim hardly looks better. She resists glancing down and distracting herself.
“Look, I've tried doing it the normal way twice and it didn't work. Think of it as me using my initiative, if that makes it better,” he suggests, leaning in to press soft kisses to her shoulder and work his way up to her jaw, and she smiles despite herself.
“More like using my intelligence,” she points out playfully, turning onto her side so that she can pinch his nipple, and he winces, twitching away. “Hell knows it far outstrips yours.”
Jim stiffens slightly under her touch, his eyes going dark and hooded, and then they suddenly take on a feral gleam and he shifts onto his elbows to push her onto her back.
“The subroutine. I need it,” he repeats, his voice low and his breath warm against her skin, and she arches up into his touch.
“I said no. Not a word I normally use, but this time I'm sticking with it.”
Jim tilts his head to one side, a curious look passing over his face, and then he shifts and swings his leg over her to straddle her, grinding down and kissing her.
A week later, Kirk cheats on the Kobiyashi Maru and Uhura tells her that she talks in her sleep. She knows that the two are related and feels like an idiot.
***
Spock
The Captain has been running on zero energy for approximately three hours and fourteen minutes when Spock decides to step in. He leans in close to Jim, keeping his voice low so as not to let the rest of the Bridge overhear.
“Captain, I believe that it would be in the best interest of everyone if you were to go and rest for a few hours. I can easily cover the rest of this shift and the next,” he says quietly, and Jim doesn't respond for a few seconds. He just keeps staring out past the helm into space and he finally does turn to Spock, his eyes are dull and slightly unfocused.
“I'm fine.”
Spock waits for further comment but the Captain does not offer any. His breathing is shallow and his skin pale, and yet he is refusing to accept that he needs to rest. He is being unnecessarily stubborn, even by his own standards.
“You are still recovering from the virus that you contracted last week, Captain. Your reflexes are slowed and your mental facilities weakened. With the recent injuries and crew shortages, you are exhausting yourself. Very soon you will be unable to maintain control effectively. I would strongly suggest that you take the rest of the shift off, at least. I am more than capable of taking the conn whilst you rest,” he reasons, because sometimes Jim Kirk will listen to logic, but it appears that today is not one of those occasions because he looks back up at Spock with a strange sort of anger written across his face.
“I know my own limits, Spock. And didn't I tell you to run through the reports of that other ship, see why they exploded? Just follow my orders and stop poking in your nose where it's not welcome. Is that clear?” he snaps, and Sulu glances around briefly at the raised voice. Spock pauses for a moment before inclining his head, a faint pang of humiliation registering.
“Of course, Captain.”
Spock doesn't miss the way that Jim's hands are shaking as they both turn their attention back to their appropriate stations.
***
Leonard McCoy
McCoy had been preparing to use a medical override to gain access to Jim's quarters but when he pauses at the door, Jim just comms him in and looks up as he comes through the door. He's sat clutching a mug of coffee and he's wound as tight as a spring - the familiar curve of his shoulders is bent and straightened out of shape and his hands are gripping the mug a little too tight, and his eyes are dark and drawn. McCoy has no idea how long he's been sat there.
“You going to clear me for duty yet?” he asks shortly, glaring up at McCoy as though he's personally offended him, and McCoy shakes his head firmly.
“You're in no state to be in control of this vessel and you damn well know it,” he says flatly, and Jim just scowls at him briefly before staring back at his coffee.
“They why are you here?”
“I came to check on you. I haven't seen you all day.”
“Maybe I just want to be left alone.”
“Jim.”
“Bones,” Jim says scathingly, glancing up again. “I'm not a little kid. You don't have to check up on me just because it's been twelve hours since I last saw you. Careful, I'll start thinking you're getting clingy on me.”
“Stop it,” McCoy growls, coming to stand in front of him where he's sat on the sofa. “Jim, your mother and stepfather just died. You're allowed to be upset.”
“I can't afford to be upset, Bones,” Jim scoffs, alternately staring down at the mug and then at the chrono. As if he's counting down the minutes until he can try and get back on shift. McCoy doesn't care for this shit at all.
“That's bullshit and you know it.”
“Really?” Jim spits back, his eyes narrowing as he leans back against the cushions. “You mean I don't have to project a calm, controlled and confident front to my crewmembers at all times? You mean I can - to quote our favorite First Officer - roam the halls weeping? Because that's great. I'll just get right on it, shall I?”
“You're being ridiculous.”
“No, I'm not,” he bites, his knuckles whitening where he's gripping the mug, and Bones scowls.
“Yeah, you fucking are. I don't know if you're trying to prove yourself or something with all this but I can see right through you and I know you're really hurting inside, you're just not showing it. Well you're not a goddamn Vulcan so stop it. Show some remorse and take some time off and deal, Jim. Nobody's going to think less of you.”
Jim doesn't reply for a moment - he's just silent, staring at the mug on the table, and the coffee inside that must be cold by now. He's not as tense any more at least - McCoy can see that the line of his shoulder is back to how it should be, and his knuckles aren't white where his fingers are balled into fists. He's not quite there yet though.
“Stop trying to be super-human,” he says softly, and rests his hand carefully at the base of Jim's neck. Jim immediately leans into the touch so he shifts, sitting on the arm of the sofa and guiding Jim's head to his chest.
“If I don't dwell on it, I can pretend it didn't happen, you know?” Jim says tightly, his voice rumbling through McCoy's ribcage, and McCoy pushes his fingers through the blond hair and feels one cautious hand clutching at his shirt and the other gripping his hip. “I don't want to think about it.”
“You have to,” McCoy says simply, and slides from the arm and onto the sofa proper. It's an awkward fit and Jim has to shift over, but it's comfortable and normal and warm with their limbs wrapped around each other. If this was one of those crappy romance novels that Jocelyn used to read, Jim would burst into tears and pour out all of his emotions and they'd end up having sex to make it all better.
Only it's not, and they fall asleep in the same position without having said another word. But that's okay, because McCoy knows that the healing process has started. He is a doctor, after all.
***
end.
***