I Aetn't Dead
I wrote this about half on my cell phone during class. No idea where it came from, but I'm not complaining. Yes, I totally stole a song title for the title. What, I'm classy.
Title: The Best Of All Possible Worlds
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Gen, but Bones/Kirk if you feel like it. Epic bromance if you don't.
Rating: G (I mean, I could say PG, for...uh... semi-romantic-possibly-snuggles? idk I didn't even swear, it's a miracle. Oh wait he totally mentions sex. I guess that's PG, then.)
Summary: Jim has favorite times of the day. Hint: Most of it.
Jim had always loved mornings. On Earth, they were cold and softly lit, and in the fall the Iowa air was clear and sharp and burned in your throat. It woke him up, clearing the heavy warmth of sleep out of his eyes and brain. It was the best time to get things done, the pigs in their pen still dozy, their squeals muffled in the pre-dawn air. The world was his until the sun rose, cold biting at his nose and fingers, making him feel infinitely alone and content with it. He had coffee brewing and breakfast on the table by the time his mother awoke, and would fall back into bed as the sun rose. His room would be warmed by the light spilling through his window, and the cold bite of fall would give way to the warmth of sleep and a thick down comforter. The rest of the morning was his to sleep through.
Afternoons were for sleeping, laying around, and the occasional bout of classes. Jim spent long,lazy hours on the damp grass outside the lecture halls. The blades of grass tickled his neck, but never enough to keep him from drifting off. Bones had found him fast asleep there countless times, nudging him awake with the toe of his shoe and good-natured grumbling about how normal, civilized people slept inside, Jim, dammit, and he was going to catch a cold or swell up like a balloon. Jim would always smile, fully aware of how soft and sleepy he looked, and Bones' weakness for things he could take care of, and Bones would keep grumbling as he sat down heavily beside Jim, letting him soak in a few more hours of sun before returning inside. Bones would huff and complain as Jim wormed closer, giving in and allowing him to rest his head on the gruff doctor's stomach. Jim smiled into the stiff red fabric of Bones' cadet uniform, curling up and drifting to sleep, like a cat in the sun.
He had never been much for evenings before he came to Starfleet, and wasn't any more fond of them in academy. They didn't have the same cool, easy light as the world before the sun rose, but instead a darker, dimmer tone, and while Jim could appreciate a beautiful sunset, in his opinion that was the only good thing about evenings. They were strange periods of time, and he was always accustomed to the warmth of the day by the time they arrived. The air was less crisp than just cold come late fall, and Jim would hide inside as the sun went down, buried in his covers until it was night. On the Enterprise, though, where there was no sun and no real time of day, he developed a fondness for them. Evenings were the times he had off, usurping a table in the rec room with Spock and playing chess for hours (and sometimes even winning). They were for having a drink with Bones, and going over the events of the day, which, if he was lucky, weren't too terrible. If he was very lucky, he could coax Bones into his room for a nap, and fall asleep like he had in the grass not so long before, curled around the doctor with his head on Bones' stomach. Bones never asked why Jim was so fond of those naps, never voiced any questions about why it was him that Jim sought out to wrap around. He just laid one hand in his captain's messy hair, which Jim swore had been regulation neat and orderly that morning, and closed his eyes to rest. He would never admit to snoring, but Jim swore he sounded like a buzzsaw. Despite the noise, he never went looking for someone else to nap with.
The night had always been Jim's favorite time. It's not a fact that would surprise many people -- night was for clubs and bars, for wild antics, affairs, and meeting someone new, for one night only. He did love them for all those reasons, for the sex and the beer and the rock and roll, if he wanted to be a walking cliche. He loved the bright lights swallowed in blackness, loved losing himself in a crowd, the press and sway of bodies and skin, and never having to admit to anything in the morning. He loved to become someone else, leave behind the hero's son, the delinquent, the damaged goods, and the golden boy of Starfleet. He didn't have to be James T. Kirk, he could be anyone. There was more, though, that he loved about the night. The night on other planets, watching their moons rise and hearing the quiet buzz of life he had never seen before. Slipping off alone, into the quiet, away from people, and into the dark. He loved to close his eyes and know, in every fiber of his being, that he was millions of miles from anything he had ever known, he was somewhere new, and he had nothing to think of but his crew and his ship and this planet. He was free, completely free, and the only tethers he would have would be those that he wanted. He climbed trees with water-slick bark, curled his hands around branches strong as steel, the skin of them soft and leathery, his fingers sinking in slightly as the tree held fast, perching himself in the crook of branch and tree trunk. He tried to hide behind leaves big as dinner plates, soft and sheer and iridescent, but sometimes (if he was lucky) he wasn't successful, and Bones would climb up after him,grumbling and swearing about Jim's unnatural love of heights. Jim just smiled at him, the smallest of lines beginning to appear around his eyes. Bones would shake his head and settle beside him, and JIm heaved a contented sigh, safe in the dark, light years from their planet and perfectly at home.
Title: The Best Of All Possible Worlds
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Gen, but Bones/Kirk if you feel like it. Epic bromance if you don't.
Rating: G (I mean, I could say PG, for...uh... semi-romantic-possibly-snuggles? idk I didn't even swear, it's a miracle. Oh wait he totally mentions sex. I guess that's PG, then.)
Summary: Jim has favorite times of the day. Hint: Most of it.
Jim had always loved mornings. On Earth, they were cold and softly lit, and in the fall the Iowa air was clear and sharp and burned in your throat. It woke him up, clearing the heavy warmth of sleep out of his eyes and brain. It was the best time to get things done, the pigs in their pen still dozy, their squeals muffled in the pre-dawn air. The world was his until the sun rose, cold biting at his nose and fingers, making him feel infinitely alone and content with it. He had coffee brewing and breakfast on the table by the time his mother awoke, and would fall back into bed as the sun rose. His room would be warmed by the light spilling through his window, and the cold bite of fall would give way to the warmth of sleep and a thick down comforter. The rest of the morning was his to sleep through.
Afternoons were for sleeping, laying around, and the occasional bout of classes. Jim spent long,lazy hours on the damp grass outside the lecture halls. The blades of grass tickled his neck, but never enough to keep him from drifting off. Bones had found him fast asleep there countless times, nudging him awake with the toe of his shoe and good-natured grumbling about how normal, civilized people slept inside, Jim, dammit, and he was going to catch a cold or swell up like a balloon. Jim would always smile, fully aware of how soft and sleepy he looked, and Bones' weakness for things he could take care of, and Bones would keep grumbling as he sat down heavily beside Jim, letting him soak in a few more hours of sun before returning inside. Bones would huff and complain as Jim wormed closer, giving in and allowing him to rest his head on the gruff doctor's stomach. Jim smiled into the stiff red fabric of Bones' cadet uniform, curling up and drifting to sleep, like a cat in the sun.
He had never been much for evenings before he came to Starfleet, and wasn't any more fond of them in academy. They didn't have the same cool, easy light as the world before the sun rose, but instead a darker, dimmer tone, and while Jim could appreciate a beautiful sunset, in his opinion that was the only good thing about evenings. They were strange periods of time, and he was always accustomed to the warmth of the day by the time they arrived. The air was less crisp than just cold come late fall, and Jim would hide inside as the sun went down, buried in his covers until it was night. On the Enterprise, though, where there was no sun and no real time of day, he developed a fondness for them. Evenings were the times he had off, usurping a table in the rec room with Spock and playing chess for hours (and sometimes even winning). They were for having a drink with Bones, and going over the events of the day, which, if he was lucky, weren't too terrible. If he was very lucky, he could coax Bones into his room for a nap, and fall asleep like he had in the grass not so long before, curled around the doctor with his head on Bones' stomach. Bones never asked why Jim was so fond of those naps, never voiced any questions about why it was him that Jim sought out to wrap around. He just laid one hand in his captain's messy hair, which Jim swore had been regulation neat and orderly that morning, and closed his eyes to rest. He would never admit to snoring, but Jim swore he sounded like a buzzsaw. Despite the noise, he never went looking for someone else to nap with.
The night had always been Jim's favorite time. It's not a fact that would surprise many people -- night was for clubs and bars, for wild antics, affairs, and meeting someone new, for one night only. He did love them for all those reasons, for the sex and the beer and the rock and roll, if he wanted to be a walking cliche. He loved the bright lights swallowed in blackness, loved losing himself in a crowd, the press and sway of bodies and skin, and never having to admit to anything in the morning. He loved to become someone else, leave behind the hero's son, the delinquent, the damaged goods, and the golden boy of Starfleet. He didn't have to be James T. Kirk, he could be anyone. There was more, though, that he loved about the night. The night on other planets, watching their moons rise and hearing the quiet buzz of life he had never seen before. Slipping off alone, into the quiet, away from people, and into the dark. He loved to close his eyes and know, in every fiber of his being, that he was millions of miles from anything he had ever known, he was somewhere new, and he had nothing to think of but his crew and his ship and this planet. He was free, completely free, and the only tethers he would have would be those that he wanted. He climbed trees with water-slick bark, curled his hands around branches strong as steel, the skin of them soft and leathery, his fingers sinking in slightly as the tree held fast, perching himself in the crook of branch and tree trunk. He tried to hide behind leaves big as dinner plates, soft and sheer and iridescent, but sometimes (if he was lucky) he wasn't successful, and Bones would climb up after him,grumbling and swearing about Jim's unnatural love of heights. Jim just smiled at him, the smallest of lines beginning to appear around his eyes. Bones would shake his head and settle beside him, and JIm heaved a contented sigh, safe in the dark, light years from their planet and perfectly at home.