H/C Bingo--star trek ficlet, "Brussel Sprouts"
Ok, so this is my second prompt attempt at the h/c bingo. Usual rules and disclaimers and stuff like that apply. I’m calling this one “Brussel Sprouts” for now (Word tells me that's spelled wrong. But whatever. Hey, it’s better than some of my working titles--although they are almost always food-related, this one at least has some relevance to the fic itself.) And I know the prompt seems to be unrelated to the fic. It is kinda related! Really! Promise!
For the purposes of this fic, I’ve decided that Vulcans have a wedding ceremony that they consider more of a soulbonding. Just go with it. Set in AOS. Again, this is rough as it is a first draft. I should call this more like first draft bingo … yes, I know I’m rambling … yes, getting on with it …
Incomplete as yet. More to come! Working on it! Maybe even later tonight!
Brussel Sprouts
It was a Tuesday afternoon when he asked him. They were sitting in the mess, Jim stealing bits of food of Bones’ plate not because he particularly liked what Bones was eating-the man liked brussel sprouts, for God’s sake--but just because he could. Bones scowled every now and again, but more because Jim expected it-it was scarcely fun otherwise-and less because he really meant it.
But tonight, even the scowling had a vaguely abstracted air. Something was bothering Bones.
Jim didn’t mention it, though. Bones was hardly the shy and retiring kind-if Bones had something to say, he’d say it, and Jim had best shut up and listen.
So. He said nothing, and kept stealing squishy green things enthusiastically off McCoy’s plate.
“Jim …”
“Yeah, Bones,” he said brightly, stuffing another brussel sprout into his mouth-and seriously, who liked these things? It would be just like Bones to put them on his plate to - to fool Jim into eating them.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. Come to think of it, Bones never ordered fries anymore-hadn’t been doing it for years now, even though he ate fries in the Academy all the time, when Jim had first started stealing his food. Even though Jim knew he ordered stuff unhealthy stuff like that all the time when he ate on his own. Oh God, he was fooling Jim into eating them! So wrong! And he’d never even guessed! Damn, he’d never been this slow, this wasn’t even half fair, but he’d certainly never have suspected his own boyfriend to be sneaky and dirty and manipulative like this! He ought to just …
Bones sighed. “Will you marry me?”
Jim choked, spluttered, and Bones pounded on his back. He swiped Bones’ water, taking a healthy gulp before gasping, “Excuse me?”
Bones just looked at him, half-anxious, half concerned, but mostly irritated, waiting until Jim had caught his breath before saying, “You heard me.”
Jim swallowed another gulp of water before replying. “Sure, but have you been putting vegetables on your plate just so I’d eat them?” Jim demanded, his face the picture of outrage. How dared he be so conniving! That wasn’t Bones-Bones was grumpy and straightforward, and Jim got to be cunning and strategic. Not fair!
Bones blinked. “Yeah. It was easier than trying to get you to put them on your own damn plate, and you’ve never seemed to mind.” Bones’ voice was puzzled, and his eyes screamed ‘What the fuck?’, but Jim was not deterred.
“That’s not fair!” Jim’s voice might have been described by Mr. Spock as a definite whine, more suited to a temperamental five-year old and not appropriate for the mature Captain he kept insisting he was, but Jim didn’t care. This was clearly foul! Besides, he was pretty sure there was no one alive who likes brussel sprouts, and Bones was a doctor. He ought to know that too-Jim was pretty sure that that was some kind of medical fact or something.
Bones growled in frustration. “Dammit Jim, it’s been years. And sprouts are good for you. You’re not allergic, and when you kept eating them, I figured you’d developed a taste or something-God knows, it’s hard to get you to do anything healthy and this you did without much protest, so I didn’t think to ask you about it. And don’t avoid the question!”
“I’m not, dammit!” and yes, maybe his tone was kind of was a little high-pitched, but he’d never admit it. “And yeah, I already saidI’ll marry you if you want. And you’re the one avoiding the question! Seriously, Bones, brussel sprouts!”
Bones blinked again. After almost four years, he’d thought he’d finally be able to read Jim, but no. Foiled again.
“Will you forget the damned sprouts, you overgrown infant, and focus for a minute? This is a big step. I need to you to think about this. Do you want more time to consider?” Jocelyn had made him wait a month. She’d toyed with him the entire time, knowing he was madly in love with her, playing him while he thought one minute her answer would be yes, and the next that she was going to dump him on his ass.
He’d have been better off, in retrospect, if she had dumped him on his ass.
Jim was still, oddly enough, stealing sprouts off his plate, despite all his complaining. If McCoy hadn’t been so agitated, he’d have been hard-pressed not smile. Jim thought he was so devious, but he was actually not that difficult to figure out, one you got to know him and all his little tricks.
The key was getting to know his tricks. Jim Kirk had a lot, and just when you thought you knew them all, he’d come up with a knew one you couldn’t possibly have predicted.
And right now, Jim was saying he was contrary enough that he probably did actually like sprouts, after all. Half the things Jim said were full of shit at the best of times, McCoy had learned.
God, trying to figure the kid out could be done, but it was exhausting.
“Nah. The crew already acts like we’re joined at the hip, anyway. We’ll get Spock to do it, he can do it on the Enterprise before we lose her.” Even though he was grinning carelessly, McCoy could hear the trace of anxiety in Jim’s voice.
“You’re not going to lose the Enterprise, Jim.” McCoy sighed. Jim was overconfident in many of the wrong ways-reckless with his health, for example-but so damned insecure in others. “You’d done a good job with the ship, with the crew, Spock keeps quoting our success ratio at every damn senior officers' debrief, they’d be crazy not to let you have it.”
“Well, the Admiralty has been known to do some crazy shit, Bones,” Jim said, his tone light but clearly forced. “And we all know how I got her, and it wasn’t because they wanted to give her to me. Whatever. Look Bones, you’ve been distracted and anxious all evening. Marriage is important to you, so let’s do it. I love you. That’s not going to change.”
Marriage wasn’t important to Jim-his parents hadn’t been married, after all--it didn’t mean that they had loved each other any less. But unlike military-brat hick farmboy Jim, Bones was the marrying kind, all deep-seated Southern tradition and traceable bloodlines, and so. If it was important to Bones … unless …
“As long as you’re sure, Bones? You don’t think you’ll get bored or something? You’re right, it is a big step, and I’m not exactly who your family had in mind, and I know you take this stuff seriously …” Jim’s blue eyes were bright and earnest and anxious and McCoy leaned over the table, snagging Jim’s hand firmly, tugging to draw Jim’s attention. He hated it when Jim got like this.
“Jim, you might be many things, but boring is definitely not one of them. And yeah, I’m sure.” McCoy reached over to lace his fingers through Jim’s, lightly brushing the scar at the base of Jim’s thumb that had been acquired during a particularly bad away mission last year. He forced his mind away from those thoughts. Jim was here and swiping brussel sprouts off his plate. He hadn’t died. And if McCoy had his way, he’d stitch Jim together with gum and old-fashioned surgical thread before he’d ever let Jim leave him.
“Yeah, Jim”, he said instead, his thumb still brushing across the scar, until Jim turned his hand with a clear look of annoyance, “I’m absolutely sure.” He sighed. “It’s just … Jocelyn … Jocelyn told me to wait. She made me squirm, that whole week, before giving me her answer, and I was crazy-stupid in love at the time. I just thought …”
Jim just lifted the hand that McCoy still held, and brought it to his lips. He turned the hand over, and licked a long stripe down McCoy’s palm, before tilting his head back to look Bones straight in the eyes, his own blue eyes dark with heat.
“Don’t worry, Bones. I can make you squirm, too. But unlike Jocelyn, I’ll only do it if you ask really, really nicely.”
*********************************************
Ok, yes, this has nothing to do with the prompt as yet. Getting there soonish! I'll work it in! I promise!
For the purposes of this fic, I’ve decided that Vulcans have a wedding ceremony that they consider more of a soulbonding. Just go with it. Set in AOS. Again, this is rough as it is a first draft. I should call this more like first draft bingo … yes, I know I’m rambling … yes, getting on with it …
Incomplete as yet. More to come! Working on it! Maybe even later tonight!
Brussel Sprouts
It was a Tuesday afternoon when he asked him. They were sitting in the mess, Jim stealing bits of food of Bones’ plate not because he particularly liked what Bones was eating-the man liked brussel sprouts, for God’s sake--but just because he could. Bones scowled every now and again, but more because Jim expected it-it was scarcely fun otherwise-and less because he really meant it.
But tonight, even the scowling had a vaguely abstracted air. Something was bothering Bones.
Jim didn’t mention it, though. Bones was hardly the shy and retiring kind-if Bones had something to say, he’d say it, and Jim had best shut up and listen.
So. He said nothing, and kept stealing squishy green things enthusiastically off McCoy’s plate.
“Jim …”
“Yeah, Bones,” he said brightly, stuffing another brussel sprout into his mouth-and seriously, who liked these things? It would be just like Bones to put them on his plate to - to fool Jim into eating them.
Jim’s eyes narrowed. Come to think of it, Bones never ordered fries anymore-hadn’t been doing it for years now, even though he ate fries in the Academy all the time, when Jim had first started stealing his food. Even though Jim knew he ordered stuff unhealthy stuff like that all the time when he ate on his own. Oh God, he was fooling Jim into eating them! So wrong! And he’d never even guessed! Damn, he’d never been this slow, this wasn’t even half fair, but he’d certainly never have suspected his own boyfriend to be sneaky and dirty and manipulative like this! He ought to just …
Bones sighed. “Will you marry me?”
Jim choked, spluttered, and Bones pounded on his back. He swiped Bones’ water, taking a healthy gulp before gasping, “Excuse me?”
Bones just looked at him, half-anxious, half concerned, but mostly irritated, waiting until Jim had caught his breath before saying, “You heard me.”
Jim swallowed another gulp of water before replying. “Sure, but have you been putting vegetables on your plate just so I’d eat them?” Jim demanded, his face the picture of outrage. How dared he be so conniving! That wasn’t Bones-Bones was grumpy and straightforward, and Jim got to be cunning and strategic. Not fair!
Bones blinked. “Yeah. It was easier than trying to get you to put them on your own damn plate, and you’ve never seemed to mind.” Bones’ voice was puzzled, and his eyes screamed ‘What the fuck?’, but Jim was not deterred.
“That’s not fair!” Jim’s voice might have been described by Mr. Spock as a definite whine, more suited to a temperamental five-year old and not appropriate for the mature Captain he kept insisting he was, but Jim didn’t care. This was clearly foul! Besides, he was pretty sure there was no one alive who likes brussel sprouts, and Bones was a doctor. He ought to know that too-Jim was pretty sure that that was some kind of medical fact or something.
Bones growled in frustration. “Dammit Jim, it’s been years. And sprouts are good for you. You’re not allergic, and when you kept eating them, I figured you’d developed a taste or something-God knows, it’s hard to get you to do anything healthy and this you did without much protest, so I didn’t think to ask you about it. And don’t avoid the question!”
“I’m not, dammit!” and yes, maybe his tone was kind of was a little high-pitched, but he’d never admit it. “And yeah, I already saidI’ll marry you if you want. And you’re the one avoiding the question! Seriously, Bones, brussel sprouts!”
Bones blinked again. After almost four years, he’d thought he’d finally be able to read Jim, but no. Foiled again.
“Will you forget the damned sprouts, you overgrown infant, and focus for a minute? This is a big step. I need to you to think about this. Do you want more time to consider?” Jocelyn had made him wait a month. She’d toyed with him the entire time, knowing he was madly in love with her, playing him while he thought one minute her answer would be yes, and the next that she was going to dump him on his ass.
He’d have been better off, in retrospect, if she had dumped him on his ass.
Jim was still, oddly enough, stealing sprouts off his plate, despite all his complaining. If McCoy hadn’t been so agitated, he’d have been hard-pressed not smile. Jim thought he was so devious, but he was actually not that difficult to figure out, one you got to know him and all his little tricks.
The key was getting to know his tricks. Jim Kirk had a lot, and just when you thought you knew them all, he’d come up with a knew one you couldn’t possibly have predicted.
And right now, Jim was saying he was contrary enough that he probably did actually like sprouts, after all. Half the things Jim said were full of shit at the best of times, McCoy had learned.
God, trying to figure the kid out could be done, but it was exhausting.
“Nah. The crew already acts like we’re joined at the hip, anyway. We’ll get Spock to do it, he can do it on the Enterprise before we lose her.” Even though he was grinning carelessly, McCoy could hear the trace of anxiety in Jim’s voice.
“You’re not going to lose the Enterprise, Jim.” McCoy sighed. Jim was overconfident in many of the wrong ways-reckless with his health, for example-but so damned insecure in others. “You’d done a good job with the ship, with the crew, Spock keeps quoting our success ratio at every damn senior officers' debrief, they’d be crazy not to let you have it.”
“Well, the Admiralty has been known to do some crazy shit, Bones,” Jim said, his tone light but clearly forced. “And we all know how I got her, and it wasn’t because they wanted to give her to me. Whatever. Look Bones, you’ve been distracted and anxious all evening. Marriage is important to you, so let’s do it. I love you. That’s not going to change.”
Marriage wasn’t important to Jim-his parents hadn’t been married, after all--it didn’t mean that they had loved each other any less. But unlike military-brat hick farmboy Jim, Bones was the marrying kind, all deep-seated Southern tradition and traceable bloodlines, and so. If it was important to Bones … unless …
“As long as you’re sure, Bones? You don’t think you’ll get bored or something? You’re right, it is a big step, and I’m not exactly who your family had in mind, and I know you take this stuff seriously …” Jim’s blue eyes were bright and earnest and anxious and McCoy leaned over the table, snagging Jim’s hand firmly, tugging to draw Jim’s attention. He hated it when Jim got like this.
“Jim, you might be many things, but boring is definitely not one of them. And yeah, I’m sure.” McCoy reached over to lace his fingers through Jim’s, lightly brushing the scar at the base of Jim’s thumb that had been acquired during a particularly bad away mission last year. He forced his mind away from those thoughts. Jim was here and swiping brussel sprouts off his plate. He hadn’t died. And if McCoy had his way, he’d stitch Jim together with gum and old-fashioned surgical thread before he’d ever let Jim leave him.
“Yeah, Jim”, he said instead, his thumb still brushing across the scar, until Jim turned his hand with a clear look of annoyance, “I’m absolutely sure.” He sighed. “It’s just … Jocelyn … Jocelyn told me to wait. She made me squirm, that whole week, before giving me her answer, and I was crazy-stupid in love at the time. I just thought …”
Jim just lifted the hand that McCoy still held, and brought it to his lips. He turned the hand over, and licked a long stripe down McCoy’s palm, before tilting his head back to look Bones straight in the eyes, his own blue eyes dark with heat.
“Don’t worry, Bones. I can make you squirm, too. But unlike Jocelyn, I’ll only do it if you ask really, really nicely.”
*********************************************
Ok, yes, this has nothing to do with the prompt as yet. Getting there soonish! I'll work it in! I promise!