Fic: Almond Butter and Raspberry Jelly
Title: Almond Butter and Raspberry Jelly
Author: linelenagain
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~1800
Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe is the intellectual property of Paramount.
Summary: Jim Kirk is not allergic to raspberries.
Notes: For pixelmayhem, who had a bad day and wanted something fluffy.
Jim Kirk is not allergic to raspberries.
He is allergic to twenty-six foods readily available on the Enterprise, but raspberries are not one of them. They are safe. He doesn’t particularly like raspberries, but that is neither here nor there. They do not cause his extremities to swell, or his eyes to water, or his throat to close. They do not cause Bones to stab him in the neck with something that may be medicine, or may be a hypo full of saline Bones keeps on his person to punish Jim (Jim realizes this scenario is unlikely, but he didn’t get where he is by ignoring unlikely scenarios). So he eats raspberries, and pretends he is developing a taste for them, though he is not.
Generally, he only eats them in jelly form, because peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a great Terran tradition. The fact that he is forced to eat raspberry jelly, as opposed to its more delicious grape or strawberry cousins, does not deter him. Nor does the ship-wide prohibition on peanut butter (Bones’ idea, apparently looking at a peanut will send Jim into anaphylactic shock). Almond butter, while not a perfect substitute, gets the job done.
That’s not to say he doesn’t have to psych himself up for it.
“So, everyone excited for shore leave?” he asked one day at lunch, staring at his sandwich as if willing it to become something more appetizing.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, I am quite looking forward to observing the planet’s lunar activity.”
“Oh, right,” Sulu said around a mouthful of salad. “The thing with the moons.”
“What thing?” Chekov asked as he approached the table. Sulu kicked a chair out for him.
“The planet we’re currently approaching, Artemis VI, is orbited by three moons,” Uhura said. “Tonight, for the first time in two hundred years, all three are full at the same time.”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, can’t wait to see that.”
Chekov’s face lit up. “Oh! I have heard of this! It is considered-” In his excitement, he tripped, sending his plate flying and falling forward, trying to brace himself with his hands.
Jim, in what may be the most impressive thing he’d done that week, actually caught the plate and its contents out of the air (though the sandwich got a bit squashed). Dropping them on the table, he rose to help Chekov, hauling him up by his arms.
“Thanks,” said Chekov easily, used to that sort of thing. He grabbed his rescued sandwich and continued. “Anyway, yes, the three full moons are considered very lucky, and the inhabitants of the planet believe that anything begun under the sky on that night will be blessed by good fortune.”
“Oh yeah?” Jim said, before sighing and taking a bite of his forgotten lunch. “Sounds good. Maybe I’ll take my chess set out there, see if it helps me win a game against Spock.”
“Would I not also benefit from any good luck imparted to the chessboard, Captain?” Spock asked, in what Kirk would swear was his amused-neutral tone.
“Nope, my set, my luck. Those are the rules.” He smiled. “Hey, anyone else’s sandwich taste particularly good today?”
“I think you got mine,” Chekov made a face. “Ugh, tastes like raspberry.”
An ominous dread spread through Jim. It felt like itching. “Why? What’d you get?”
“Almond butter and strawberry jelly. Speaking of which, hypothetically, what would be the punishment for sneaking contraband peanut products on board?”
“That would be death,” Jim said, sadly.
“Captain, I do not believe it is within your purview-” Spock began.
“Not me,” Jim sighed. “Bones would kill us all. Speaking of which, better call him.”
“Why?” Sulu asked.
Jim thought about explaining, but he could already feel his throat closing up, and it was easier just to fall over. His crew was smart, they’d figure it out.
--
“Jesus Christ, Checkers!” Bones shouted, shoving Jim roughly back towards consciousness. “You’re lucky I don’t have you hauled up on charges! Attempted assassination of a starfleet captain and sheer idiocy.”
Jim turned towards the yelling, and sure enough, there was Bones, waving his arms over a scared and sad-looking Chekov. Jim didn’t really understand how Bones could keep yelling when Chekov’s eyes went all big and shiny like that; it was a defense mechanism that always worked against Jim.
“Bones,” Jim rolled his eyes. “There are sick people here.”
“Shut up!” Bones growled at him. “Strawberries are now banned from the ship, by the way. I’m calling it Chekov’s Law. Enjoy your new popularity.”
Chekov covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry-”
“It’s fine,” Jim said, firmly. “Really. I’m fine. It was my fault anyway.”
“It’s not fine, and neither are you!” Bones said. “Your throat closed up, and it took me two minutes to get to you!”
“You ran all the way to the mess hall from sickbay in two minutes?” Jim whistled. “You’ve been working out.”
“Okay, first of all, I hate you. And second of all, you need air to live. Even you, Jim, are not more stubborn than the human respiratory system.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jim said, narrowing his eyes.
“No, we will not.” Bones pointed at Chekov. “Out! Before I change my mind. And you,” he said, turning to face Jim, “are stuck here for twenty-four hours.”
“But Bones!” Jim said, using every ounce of wheedling in him. “Shore leave starts tonight.”
“Don’t care,” Bones said, firmly.
“But it’s the three full moon thing! Only happens once every two hundred years!”
“Should have thought of that before you got allergies.”
“I’ve always had allergies!”
Bones shrugged, demonstrating how he’d turned the phrase ‘that is one hundred percent not my problem’ into a smooth and easy gesture.
“Please, Bones,” Jim said, tiredly. “I really wanted to see it.”
Bones hesitated for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “As your doctor, I have to insist you stay put at least overnight. Sorry, Jim.”
Jim dropped his head back onto the pillow with a long sigh. “Is it too late to keelhaul Chekov?”
--
Jim woke up to a hand over his mouth. Under most circumstances, this would be cause for immediate alarm, but even in the dim light he could make out the figure of Bones standing over him, finger to his lips in the intergalactic shut the hell up gesture, so Jim went with it.
Seeing that Jim was on board with the plan, Bones tossed him a pile of fabric. “Get dressed,” he whispered.
“What are we doing?” Jim hissed back, pulling on what seemed to be a pair of his pants.
“Shhh!” Bones glared at him, and Jim pulled his black shirt on silently.
Bones hitched a small duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed Jim by the arm. He slowly peered around the curtain surrounding Jim’s bed, then threw himself back behind it.
“Chapel,” he mouthed to Jim. Jim nodded.
They waited silently, barely breathing, until they heard her footsteps move off towards the supply room. As the door hissed behind her, Bones peered around the corner again. Verifying her absence, he dragged Jim behind him through the sickbay doors.
Moving quickly and silently through the corridors, Jim wondered if his companion really was Bones, or some sort of impostor intent on kidnapping the captain of the Enterprise. He promptly disregarded that theory; an impostor would act more normal.
They ended up in the transporter room, and Bones hauled Jim bodily onto the pad. He nodded conspiratorially at a shadowy figure that could only be Scotty, who winked as he punched some buttons on the console.
They beamed down onto sand, and the sudden unevenness of the surface cost Jim his balance. He fell, pulling a startled Bones down on top of him.
“Shit!” Bones swore as he rose, his bag swinging down to smack Jim in the face.
“Oh, are we talking now?” Jim said, getting his hands under him and shoving himself to his feet. “What the hell, Bones, seriously!”
Bones smiled at him, a strange little half grin. Not saying anything, he pointed behind Jim, and upwards.
Jim turned and gasped. Three glorious full moons filled the night sky, bigger than he’d ever seen the moon on earth. One was white, one pale blue, and one was a rich, orange color. Their reflections sparkled merrily on the waves rushing almost to Jim’s feet.
He felt Bones’ arms wrap around his chest, and Bones’ chin on his shoulder and it was nice, not the manly hugs he was used to getting from the other man, for sure, but really nice.
“As your doctor, I had to insist on overnight observation,” Bones’ voice rumbled against his back. “But as your friend, I couldn’t let you miss this.” He lowered himself to the ground, pulling Jim down to sit in front of him.
“But why all the sneaking around?” Jim asked, honestly confused. “Couldn’t you just sign me out?”
“Sure,” Bones shrugged. “But now nobody’ll comm us for some stupid reason, because you’re supposed to be sick and I’m supposed to be watching you. Besides, this was more fun.”
Bones grinned, and it occurred to Jim that maybe, just maybe, Bones wasn’t born middle-aged after all.
“You know the only thing that could make this better?” Jim asked.
“Sandwiches?” Bones said, holding up his duffel bag.
“I have never loved you more than I do at this moment,” Jim said, totally serious.
Bones’ eyes dropped to the sand and he bit his lip. “About that,” he said.
Jim waited, but Bones didn’t continue, just lightly brushed Jim’s hand with his thumb. And that was good enough, Jim was a bright guy, he didn’t need things spelled out for him.
“Finally,” he rolled his eyes, but shifted downward so his head was in Bones’ lap. “You could have just said.”
Bones shrugged. “More fun this way. Besides, I figure we’ll need all the luck we can get.” He laced their fingers together, running his free hand through Jim’s hair.
Jim smiled, because Bones was so weird, and because this was something he’d wanted for a long time. He’d always thought it would be harder, off-puttingly hard, to take their friendship and give it that twist, this spin, but it wasn’t. And that made sense, really, because he and Bones had always been easy together. Like raspberry jelly and almond butter - a little unconventional, but just right for Jim.
“I’m not fooling around with you on this beach, Bones,” he said, running his thumb over Bones’ knuckles. “Trust me, the sand is seriously going to ruin the moment.”
“There’s a blanket in the bag,” Bones said, sounding more relaxed than Jim had ever heard him.
“I rescind my previous statement,” Jim said. “But just so you know, you’ve totally raised the bar here. The moons, the beach, the sandwiches. This better be the best kiss ever.”
The corners of Bones’ mouth quirked up. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, leaning over.
Jim was not disappointed.
Author: linelenagain
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~1800
Disclaimer: The Star Trek universe is the intellectual property of Paramount.
Summary: Jim Kirk is not allergic to raspberries.
Notes: For pixelmayhem, who had a bad day and wanted something fluffy.
Jim Kirk is not allergic to raspberries.
He is allergic to twenty-six foods readily available on the Enterprise, but raspberries are not one of them. They are safe. He doesn’t particularly like raspberries, but that is neither here nor there. They do not cause his extremities to swell, or his eyes to water, or his throat to close. They do not cause Bones to stab him in the neck with something that may be medicine, or may be a hypo full of saline Bones keeps on his person to punish Jim (Jim realizes this scenario is unlikely, but he didn’t get where he is by ignoring unlikely scenarios). So he eats raspberries, and pretends he is developing a taste for them, though he is not.
Generally, he only eats them in jelly form, because peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a great Terran tradition. The fact that he is forced to eat raspberry jelly, as opposed to its more delicious grape or strawberry cousins, does not deter him. Nor does the ship-wide prohibition on peanut butter (Bones’ idea, apparently looking at a peanut will send Jim into anaphylactic shock). Almond butter, while not a perfect substitute, gets the job done.
That’s not to say he doesn’t have to psych himself up for it.
“So, everyone excited for shore leave?” he asked one day at lunch, staring at his sandwich as if willing it to become something more appetizing.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, I am quite looking forward to observing the planet’s lunar activity.”
“Oh, right,” Sulu said around a mouthful of salad. “The thing with the moons.”
“What thing?” Chekov asked as he approached the table. Sulu kicked a chair out for him.
“The planet we’re currently approaching, Artemis VI, is orbited by three moons,” Uhura said. “Tonight, for the first time in two hundred years, all three are full at the same time.”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, can’t wait to see that.”
Chekov’s face lit up. “Oh! I have heard of this! It is considered-” In his excitement, he tripped, sending his plate flying and falling forward, trying to brace himself with his hands.
Jim, in what may be the most impressive thing he’d done that week, actually caught the plate and its contents out of the air (though the sandwich got a bit squashed). Dropping them on the table, he rose to help Chekov, hauling him up by his arms.
“Thanks,” said Chekov easily, used to that sort of thing. He grabbed his rescued sandwich and continued. “Anyway, yes, the three full moons are considered very lucky, and the inhabitants of the planet believe that anything begun under the sky on that night will be blessed by good fortune.”
“Oh yeah?” Jim said, before sighing and taking a bite of his forgotten lunch. “Sounds good. Maybe I’ll take my chess set out there, see if it helps me win a game against Spock.”
“Would I not also benefit from any good luck imparted to the chessboard, Captain?” Spock asked, in what Kirk would swear was his amused-neutral tone.
“Nope, my set, my luck. Those are the rules.” He smiled. “Hey, anyone else’s sandwich taste particularly good today?”
“I think you got mine,” Chekov made a face. “Ugh, tastes like raspberry.”
An ominous dread spread through Jim. It felt like itching. “Why? What’d you get?”
“Almond butter and strawberry jelly. Speaking of which, hypothetically, what would be the punishment for sneaking contraband peanut products on board?”
“That would be death,” Jim said, sadly.
“Captain, I do not believe it is within your purview-” Spock began.
“Not me,” Jim sighed. “Bones would kill us all. Speaking of which, better call him.”
“Why?” Sulu asked.
Jim thought about explaining, but he could already feel his throat closing up, and it was easier just to fall over. His crew was smart, they’d figure it out.
--
“Jesus Christ, Checkers!” Bones shouted, shoving Jim roughly back towards consciousness. “You’re lucky I don’t have you hauled up on charges! Attempted assassination of a starfleet captain and sheer idiocy.”
Jim turned towards the yelling, and sure enough, there was Bones, waving his arms over a scared and sad-looking Chekov. Jim didn’t really understand how Bones could keep yelling when Chekov’s eyes went all big and shiny like that; it was a defense mechanism that always worked against Jim.
“Bones,” Jim rolled his eyes. “There are sick people here.”
“Shut up!” Bones growled at him. “Strawberries are now banned from the ship, by the way. I’m calling it Chekov’s Law. Enjoy your new popularity.”
Chekov covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry-”
“It’s fine,” Jim said, firmly. “Really. I’m fine. It was my fault anyway.”
“It’s not fine, and neither are you!” Bones said. “Your throat closed up, and it took me two minutes to get to you!”
“You ran all the way to the mess hall from sickbay in two minutes?” Jim whistled. “You’ve been working out.”
“Okay, first of all, I hate you. And second of all, you need air to live. Even you, Jim, are not more stubborn than the human respiratory system.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jim said, narrowing his eyes.
“No, we will not.” Bones pointed at Chekov. “Out! Before I change my mind. And you,” he said, turning to face Jim, “are stuck here for twenty-four hours.”
“But Bones!” Jim said, using every ounce of wheedling in him. “Shore leave starts tonight.”
“Don’t care,” Bones said, firmly.
“But it’s the three full moon thing! Only happens once every two hundred years!”
“Should have thought of that before you got allergies.”
“I’ve always had allergies!”
Bones shrugged, demonstrating how he’d turned the phrase ‘that is one hundred percent not my problem’ into a smooth and easy gesture.
“Please, Bones,” Jim said, tiredly. “I really wanted to see it.”
Bones hesitated for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “As your doctor, I have to insist you stay put at least overnight. Sorry, Jim.”
Jim dropped his head back onto the pillow with a long sigh. “Is it too late to keelhaul Chekov?”
--
Jim woke up to a hand over his mouth. Under most circumstances, this would be cause for immediate alarm, but even in the dim light he could make out the figure of Bones standing over him, finger to his lips in the intergalactic shut the hell up gesture, so Jim went with it.
Seeing that Jim was on board with the plan, Bones tossed him a pile of fabric. “Get dressed,” he whispered.
“What are we doing?” Jim hissed back, pulling on what seemed to be a pair of his pants.
“Shhh!” Bones glared at him, and Jim pulled his black shirt on silently.
Bones hitched a small duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed Jim by the arm. He slowly peered around the curtain surrounding Jim’s bed, then threw himself back behind it.
“Chapel,” he mouthed to Jim. Jim nodded.
They waited silently, barely breathing, until they heard her footsteps move off towards the supply room. As the door hissed behind her, Bones peered around the corner again. Verifying her absence, he dragged Jim behind him through the sickbay doors.
Moving quickly and silently through the corridors, Jim wondered if his companion really was Bones, or some sort of impostor intent on kidnapping the captain of the Enterprise. He promptly disregarded that theory; an impostor would act more normal.
They ended up in the transporter room, and Bones hauled Jim bodily onto the pad. He nodded conspiratorially at a shadowy figure that could only be Scotty, who winked as he punched some buttons on the console.
They beamed down onto sand, and the sudden unevenness of the surface cost Jim his balance. He fell, pulling a startled Bones down on top of him.
“Shit!” Bones swore as he rose, his bag swinging down to smack Jim in the face.
“Oh, are we talking now?” Jim said, getting his hands under him and shoving himself to his feet. “What the hell, Bones, seriously!”
Bones smiled at him, a strange little half grin. Not saying anything, he pointed behind Jim, and upwards.
Jim turned and gasped. Three glorious full moons filled the night sky, bigger than he’d ever seen the moon on earth. One was white, one pale blue, and one was a rich, orange color. Their reflections sparkled merrily on the waves rushing almost to Jim’s feet.
He felt Bones’ arms wrap around his chest, and Bones’ chin on his shoulder and it was nice, not the manly hugs he was used to getting from the other man, for sure, but really nice.
“As your doctor, I had to insist on overnight observation,” Bones’ voice rumbled against his back. “But as your friend, I couldn’t let you miss this.” He lowered himself to the ground, pulling Jim down to sit in front of him.
“But why all the sneaking around?” Jim asked, honestly confused. “Couldn’t you just sign me out?”
“Sure,” Bones shrugged. “But now nobody’ll comm us for some stupid reason, because you’re supposed to be sick and I’m supposed to be watching you. Besides, this was more fun.”
Bones grinned, and it occurred to Jim that maybe, just maybe, Bones wasn’t born middle-aged after all.
“You know the only thing that could make this better?” Jim asked.
“Sandwiches?” Bones said, holding up his duffel bag.
“I have never loved you more than I do at this moment,” Jim said, totally serious.
Bones’ eyes dropped to the sand and he bit his lip. “About that,” he said.
Jim waited, but Bones didn’t continue, just lightly brushed Jim’s hand with his thumb. And that was good enough, Jim was a bright guy, he didn’t need things spelled out for him.
“Finally,” he rolled his eyes, but shifted downward so his head was in Bones’ lap. “You could have just said.”
Bones shrugged. “More fun this way. Besides, I figure we’ll need all the luck we can get.” He laced their fingers together, running his free hand through Jim’s hair.
Jim smiled, because Bones was so weird, and because this was something he’d wanted for a long time. He’d always thought it would be harder, off-puttingly hard, to take their friendship and give it that twist, this spin, but it wasn’t. And that made sense, really, because he and Bones had always been easy together. Like raspberry jelly and almond butter - a little unconventional, but just right for Jim.
“I’m not fooling around with you on this beach, Bones,” he said, running his thumb over Bones’ knuckles. “Trust me, the sand is seriously going to ruin the moment.”
“There’s a blanket in the bag,” Bones said, sounding more relaxed than Jim had ever heard him.
“I rescind my previous statement,” Jim said. “But just so you know, you’ve totally raised the bar here. The moons, the beach, the sandwiches. This better be the best kiss ever.”
The corners of Bones’ mouth quirked up. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, leaning over.
Jim was not disappointed.