fic: with such a sky to lead him on (ST: Reboot)
With Such a Sky to Lead Him On
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Rating: teen
Ship: McCoy/Kirk
Summary: A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk.
A/N: For lilyrose_fic, who made the request. I think I got all the required elements. With heartfelt apologies to William Wordsworth. (Jim gets his lit!geek on.) The quotes are from "Tintern Abbey," "I traveled among unknown men," "Stepping Westward," and (natch) "To Joanna." Also, I suppose apologies are due to the good inhabitants of Cockermouth. 2,355 words.
How fairs Joanna, that wild-hearted maid?
Afraid I'm acting under orders, beginning this postcard with that line. Your Uncle Jim's gone a bit crazy. Not that he was ever completely sane. But I guess I knew that when I married the idiot. He was right about one thing: the Lake District's beautiful, despite the fact that it's cold and gray and everything smells like sheep.
Got this card in Cumbria, which is where Beatrix Potter spent part of her life. Do you remember me reading her books to you? You were very little.
Anyway, be good. Stay well. I love you, baby doll.
Dad
PS. Jim here. So, I pulled rank with the postcard. It's from Wordsworth! This is Wordsworth (and Coleridge) country. And I'm right about lots of things. The sheep smell is all in your dad's head. He's having a wonderful honeymoon. Never seen him scowl with such insincerity. We just had tea and scones. Very proper. There was clotted cream and rum butter. Later, I am going to procure a five-year supply of the stuff. Now we're going to find "a tall rock that eastward looks" and carve your name upon it. That's also in Wordsworth. Love, Jim.
*
The woman in the teashop had said two miles to Dove Cottage, but Leonard was pretty sure that they had already walked about three, and they were still in the middle of nowhere. At least it was the pretty kind of nowhere, he reflected as he and Jim paused where the dirt path they'd been walking curved over the crest of a hill, and gazed down at the countryside. He'd have been happier, of course, without those storm clouds piling up above the hills on the other side of the lake. And if he could just get the stench of sheep out of his nostrils. There weren't even any sheep in sight.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then Jim turned and gave him that look, that exhilarated, lit-from-within look, and Leonard shut his mouth. Flinging his arms wide, as if he were preparing for a dive or about to gather the whole world into his embrace - and if anyone could do that, Leonard thought a bit wildly, it was Jim Kirk - he recited:
"I traveled among unknown men
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! Did I know till then
What love I bore to thee."
Leonard smirked. "You've been waiting to say that since we got here, haven't you?"
"I was waiting for the appropriate moment."
"I see. Saw those clouds, and figured you'd better get your dramatic moment in before we got drenched?"
"Bones, Bones, Bones." His hands dropped to his sides, but the wattage of his smile went up, and Leonard's heart sort of stuttered against his ribs.
Good God, he thought, not for the first time since the start of their shore leave / honeymoon, I didn't just get married again, I married this … this solar flare. This electric storm.
Jim reached out and grasped his hand, pulling him against his chest. His arms wound around Leonard's waist, his pointed chin poked at Leonard's shoulder, and he whispered in his ear, "Look at it. Just … take it in."
Leonard looked - and caught his breath. Far below, the lake lay calm and smooth except for the occasional ruffle of a wave as a cool breeze swept down through the hills and scudded across it. On either side, the hills were rust and steel, muted greens and mellow golds, the colors intensified by the low light. There were other paths, some wide enough to accommodate vehicles, most narrow and rough. But as far as Leonard could see, there wasn't another soul for miles. He could almost believe that he and Jim were the sole inhabitants of a new world. Far from industry, from politics, from … everything Leonard hated dealing with. Something loosened in his chest, a knot he hadn't realized he'd been carrying all this way.
Jim's breath was hot against the shell of his ear. "I never appreciated the Earth before I went into space. A bet a lot of guys feel that way, though, granted, I grew up in Iowa." He chuckled, and his hair tickled Leonard's neck as he shook his head. "But I think being out in space, exploring new worlds … it gave me more of an appreciation for where I'm from. Not Riverside, but Earth. I can just imagine what it must be like for an alien, landing in this place, setting eyes - or whatever it has in lieu of eyes - on it for the first time. Can you imagine how he - or she, I guess - must feel?"
"Cold? Damp?"
Jim's arms tightened around his waist. "You're not miserable." He pressed a kiss against Leonard's cheek and whispered,
"For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest friend,
My dear, dear friend…"
"Mmm," said Leonard, finally allowing himself to relax into the embrace, letting his head tip back so that it rested against Jim's. "I like that. More Wordsworth?"
"Yeah. I'd go on - shit, I used to know the whole thing by heart - but then he brings up his sister. Kind of kills it."
"Takes the romance out of it, anyway," Leonard said. "One of these days, kid, we're gonna stumble across the alternate universe where you're some tweedy English professor. Although," he went on reflectively, before Jim could make a comment, "since English professors don't get many chances to save the world, in that universe, Earth's probably just a scattering of dust across the cosmos, by now."
"That wasn't unpoetic," said Jim. "See? It's not just the cold and damp that's getting to you. You're soaking it all up and you don't even realize it. Know how I know?"
"How, Jim?"
"Those sheep you've been smelling? It's not in your head, it's in your sweater."
"What?"
"This sweater that you bought this morning? It reeks of sheep. You didn't notice that before?"
"I thought I was smelling actual sheep." He lifted his hand and sniffed at the cuff of his new woolen sweater. Huh. "How come you didn't tell me before? You're gonna start reeking soon. I could take it off," he offered playfully, raising an eyebrow.
Jim's left hand dropped to his waistband. Leonard tensed reflexively as the cool, strong fingers worked their way under his layers of shirts. The sound he made when those fingers found flesh was not quite a growl.
"Later," Jim said. He flicked the tip of his tongue at Leonard's earlobe, eliciting a shiver. "Later, when we're back at the B&B, I'm gonna… Though, God, I could almost…" He never said what it was he could almost do at that moment, in that place, but Leonard had a pretty good idea. Jim's fingers skittered across his belly, the ring cool against suddenly heated flesh. If he'd kept going, Leonard would not have tried to dissuade him, though he'd never been completely comfortable with the idea of sex in public places. (He'd never had sex in public places before Jim Kirk blazed into his life.) Besides, even though they appeared to be alone and Jim had been right about the origin of the sheep smell, Leonard couldn't shake the idea that round, slit-pupiled eyes were watching them.
So he said - with some difficulty, because he was already half-hard - "Come on, kid, let's find this cottage of yours and get back to the B&B. Maybe we can get back before it rains." He was doubtful, but hey.
"All right." Slowly, Jim withdrew his hand, tucked the undershirt back into the waistband of his jeans, and smoothed the front of the sweater down over his belly. It was a very endearing gesture, and it earned him a kiss.
"Mmm," Jim murmured against Leonard's lips. "Know what we should also find before it rains? Cockermouth."
"Cockerwhat?"
Jim grinned. "It's a town or a village or something around here. It was on the map that woman in the teashop showed us. Best place name … ever. Wonder where it came from."
"I haven't a goddamn clue."
Jim brushed his lips again, then pulled away and started along the path at a stroll. Before starting after him, Leonard glanced to the left. The clouds over the lake were practically purple and piled even higher. An eerie glow spread across the landscape. It lent an odd tint to Jim's tawny head, and made Leonard think of other planets he'd seen. We are going to get soaked, he thought.
"You know," Jim said, as the path sloped downward, "I never liked the way the Starfleet exploratory teams named planets. Muscae IV, Deneb II. I never really did. I always understood the reasoning behind it, but I also always thought … the early Earth explorers got to name things whatever they wanted. All right - most of the time, they named places after their kings and queens, and most of the time, those lands had already been named by the people living there. But I always thought that if I ever found a planet without inhabitants, I should be allowed to name it. And I'd come up with something good. Like Cockermouth."
"After your favorite sexual act?" Leonard said dryly. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Don't know if it's my favorite. It's up there, though. Jimsdick," he mused. "Kirksdick. Bonesdick. I like that one."
"You would."
"And five hundred or a thousand years after their planet's founding, the noble Bonesdickians will have no idea…"
"Good." Something wet splashed the tip of his nose. Damn it.
"It does make you wonder, though," Jim rambled on, seemingly oblivious. "About the planets Starfleet didn't name. Just how many are named after…" He stopped again, and smiled over his shoulder. In the deepening gloom of the fast-approaching storm, his eyes were like blue flames, like tropical seas, like new worlds spinning in the dark of space, full of light and secrets. "Come on, Bones," he said. "I'm being romantic."
"Now you are?" Leonard's eyebrow went up again. "What about before?" Another raindrop splashed the back of his neck.
"Showing off." Jim cocked his head, giving Leonard a good glimpse of strong white neck (you don't get much of a tan on a starship, or in England in October), stubbled (and scarred) jaw line, and steep cheekbones. It was also a challenging posture and, as ever, Leonard couldn't resist. Two quick strides, and he and Jim were standing nose-to-nose, fingers threaded.
"You know, kid, you don't have to impress me. You got me." But even as he said it, he knew Jim's recitations hadn't been for him. Not altogether, anyhow. Leonard was as well read as the next man (unless the next man was Jim) but he didn't care if words were pretty or whether or not they rhymed. He was in it for the meaning, the emotion behind it all. Jim's true audience was the universe at large. (Look at me. Let me show you what I can do.) It wasn't an ego thing. At least, not all the time. The universe presented Jim with a challenge (gravity, for instance) and he had to respond. (I'll see your idyllic landscape and raise you these lines of poetry. Never mind the fact that he hadn't written them. He made them his.)
It was one of the reasons Leonard loved him, one of the reasons he was sometimes scared to death for him, and would follow him to the ends of the universe.
And to prove it - Leonard's dramatic gestures rarely shook worlds, but he still liked to make them, on occasion - he said, "Cockermouth, Jim? Really?" and laughed. Really laughed, the delight rising in him. Then he leaned in and kissed Jim's mouth just as the rain really started to fall.
Jim's fingers twisted with his. He gave this small hmmm of surprise, which tickled, and Leonard laughed again, deep in his belly, as he licked his way into Jim's mouth. He lifted his free hand to Jim's cheek, cupping, then stroking in an almost soothing manner as the rain ran like tears down the cool skin.
It was a hell of a shower and they were drenched in minutes, hair plastered to foreheads, lashes stuck together like the points of a star. Leonard took from Jim's mouth, and gave back (he was only truly happy when he was giving, and at that moment he was truly happy) and if the fingers that slid under his sweater now, and pressed against his skin were cold and wet - so the hell what? Never mind the cold, never mind the damp. Maybe they were responsible for the delicious shivers racing up his arms and across his shoulders. Or maybe it was Jim's tongue curling against his. Never mind, never mind.
For thou art with me here… Thou, my dearest friend, my dear, dear friend.
*
Dear Joanna,
Well, I suppose the good thing about catching cold in England is the abundance of tea. It's not so bad that we're not having a good time, though trying to convince Jim that he's in no shape to go tramping over hill and dale is like … well, you've met him. I'll say this much: I'm never bored. Though if I hear another word of Wordsworth, I'm sedating him for the rest of the honeymoon.
Love you, baby doll.
Dad
PS. Jim here. He's never bored because I'm amazingly good company. And who said anything about tramping? I'm happy where I am. Got my book, got my Bones. His sweater makes a lovely blaze. Though the other people staying here keep asking about the sheep smell. There's no need to threaten me with a hypo. Who brings a hypo on his honeymoon?
PPS. Anyone married to you? (Dad)
PPPS. (Jim again) Touché, Bones. Love you, Jo. Kirk out.
PPPPS. Like a light, in fact. Never even got near him with the hypo. Good old decongestants. Love you, Jo. -Dad
11/01/09
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot
Rating: teen
Ship: McCoy/Kirk
Summary: A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk.
A/N: For lilyrose_fic, who made the request. I think I got all the required elements. With heartfelt apologies to William Wordsworth. (Jim gets his lit!geek on.) The quotes are from "Tintern Abbey," "I traveled among unknown men," "Stepping Westward," and (natch) "To Joanna." Also, I suppose apologies are due to the good inhabitants of Cockermouth. 2,355 words.
How fairs Joanna, that wild-hearted maid?
Afraid I'm acting under orders, beginning this postcard with that line. Your Uncle Jim's gone a bit crazy. Not that he was ever completely sane. But I guess I knew that when I married the idiot. He was right about one thing: the Lake District's beautiful, despite the fact that it's cold and gray and everything smells like sheep.
Got this card in Cumbria, which is where Beatrix Potter spent part of her life. Do you remember me reading her books to you? You were very little.
Anyway, be good. Stay well. I love you, baby doll.
Dad
PS. Jim here. So, I pulled rank with the postcard. It's from Wordsworth! This is Wordsworth (and Coleridge) country. And I'm right about lots of things. The sheep smell is all in your dad's head. He's having a wonderful honeymoon. Never seen him scowl with such insincerity. We just had tea and scones. Very proper. There was clotted cream and rum butter. Later, I am going to procure a five-year supply of the stuff. Now we're going to find "a tall rock that eastward looks" and carve your name upon it. That's also in Wordsworth. Love, Jim.
*
The woman in the teashop had said two miles to Dove Cottage, but Leonard was pretty sure that they had already walked about three, and they were still in the middle of nowhere. At least it was the pretty kind of nowhere, he reflected as he and Jim paused where the dirt path they'd been walking curved over the crest of a hill, and gazed down at the countryside. He'd have been happier, of course, without those storm clouds piling up above the hills on the other side of the lake. And if he could just get the stench of sheep out of his nostrils. There weren't even any sheep in sight.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then Jim turned and gave him that look, that exhilarated, lit-from-within look, and Leonard shut his mouth. Flinging his arms wide, as if he were preparing for a dive or about to gather the whole world into his embrace - and if anyone could do that, Leonard thought a bit wildly, it was Jim Kirk - he recited:
"I traveled among unknown men
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! Did I know till then
What love I bore to thee."
Leonard smirked. "You've been waiting to say that since we got here, haven't you?"
"I was waiting for the appropriate moment."
"I see. Saw those clouds, and figured you'd better get your dramatic moment in before we got drenched?"
"Bones, Bones, Bones." His hands dropped to his sides, but the wattage of his smile went up, and Leonard's heart sort of stuttered against his ribs.
Good God, he thought, not for the first time since the start of their shore leave / honeymoon, I didn't just get married again, I married this … this solar flare. This electric storm.
Jim reached out and grasped his hand, pulling him against his chest. His arms wound around Leonard's waist, his pointed chin poked at Leonard's shoulder, and he whispered in his ear, "Look at it. Just … take it in."
Leonard looked - and caught his breath. Far below, the lake lay calm and smooth except for the occasional ruffle of a wave as a cool breeze swept down through the hills and scudded across it. On either side, the hills were rust and steel, muted greens and mellow golds, the colors intensified by the low light. There were other paths, some wide enough to accommodate vehicles, most narrow and rough. But as far as Leonard could see, there wasn't another soul for miles. He could almost believe that he and Jim were the sole inhabitants of a new world. Far from industry, from politics, from … everything Leonard hated dealing with. Something loosened in his chest, a knot he hadn't realized he'd been carrying all this way.
Jim's breath was hot against the shell of his ear. "I never appreciated the Earth before I went into space. A bet a lot of guys feel that way, though, granted, I grew up in Iowa." He chuckled, and his hair tickled Leonard's neck as he shook his head. "But I think being out in space, exploring new worlds … it gave me more of an appreciation for where I'm from. Not Riverside, but Earth. I can just imagine what it must be like for an alien, landing in this place, setting eyes - or whatever it has in lieu of eyes - on it for the first time. Can you imagine how he - or she, I guess - must feel?"
"Cold? Damp?"
Jim's arms tightened around his waist. "You're not miserable." He pressed a kiss against Leonard's cheek and whispered,
"For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest friend,
My dear, dear friend…"
"Mmm," said Leonard, finally allowing himself to relax into the embrace, letting his head tip back so that it rested against Jim's. "I like that. More Wordsworth?"
"Yeah. I'd go on - shit, I used to know the whole thing by heart - but then he brings up his sister. Kind of kills it."
"Takes the romance out of it, anyway," Leonard said. "One of these days, kid, we're gonna stumble across the alternate universe where you're some tweedy English professor. Although," he went on reflectively, before Jim could make a comment, "since English professors don't get many chances to save the world, in that universe, Earth's probably just a scattering of dust across the cosmos, by now."
"That wasn't unpoetic," said Jim. "See? It's not just the cold and damp that's getting to you. You're soaking it all up and you don't even realize it. Know how I know?"
"How, Jim?"
"Those sheep you've been smelling? It's not in your head, it's in your sweater."
"What?"
"This sweater that you bought this morning? It reeks of sheep. You didn't notice that before?"
"I thought I was smelling actual sheep." He lifted his hand and sniffed at the cuff of his new woolen sweater. Huh. "How come you didn't tell me before? You're gonna start reeking soon. I could take it off," he offered playfully, raising an eyebrow.
Jim's left hand dropped to his waistband. Leonard tensed reflexively as the cool, strong fingers worked their way under his layers of shirts. The sound he made when those fingers found flesh was not quite a growl.
"Later," Jim said. He flicked the tip of his tongue at Leonard's earlobe, eliciting a shiver. "Later, when we're back at the B&B, I'm gonna… Though, God, I could almost…" He never said what it was he could almost do at that moment, in that place, but Leonard had a pretty good idea. Jim's fingers skittered across his belly, the ring cool against suddenly heated flesh. If he'd kept going, Leonard would not have tried to dissuade him, though he'd never been completely comfortable with the idea of sex in public places. (He'd never had sex in public places before Jim Kirk blazed into his life.) Besides, even though they appeared to be alone and Jim had been right about the origin of the sheep smell, Leonard couldn't shake the idea that round, slit-pupiled eyes were watching them.
So he said - with some difficulty, because he was already half-hard - "Come on, kid, let's find this cottage of yours and get back to the B&B. Maybe we can get back before it rains." He was doubtful, but hey.
"All right." Slowly, Jim withdrew his hand, tucked the undershirt back into the waistband of his jeans, and smoothed the front of the sweater down over his belly. It was a very endearing gesture, and it earned him a kiss.
"Mmm," Jim murmured against Leonard's lips. "Know what we should also find before it rains? Cockermouth."
"Cockerwhat?"
Jim grinned. "It's a town or a village or something around here. It was on the map that woman in the teashop showed us. Best place name … ever. Wonder where it came from."
"I haven't a goddamn clue."
Jim brushed his lips again, then pulled away and started along the path at a stroll. Before starting after him, Leonard glanced to the left. The clouds over the lake were practically purple and piled even higher. An eerie glow spread across the landscape. It lent an odd tint to Jim's tawny head, and made Leonard think of other planets he'd seen. We are going to get soaked, he thought.
"You know," Jim said, as the path sloped downward, "I never liked the way the Starfleet exploratory teams named planets. Muscae IV, Deneb II. I never really did. I always understood the reasoning behind it, but I also always thought … the early Earth explorers got to name things whatever they wanted. All right - most of the time, they named places after their kings and queens, and most of the time, those lands had already been named by the people living there. But I always thought that if I ever found a planet without inhabitants, I should be allowed to name it. And I'd come up with something good. Like Cockermouth."
"After your favorite sexual act?" Leonard said dryly. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Don't know if it's my favorite. It's up there, though. Jimsdick," he mused. "Kirksdick. Bonesdick. I like that one."
"You would."
"And five hundred or a thousand years after their planet's founding, the noble Bonesdickians will have no idea…"
"Good." Something wet splashed the tip of his nose. Damn it.
"It does make you wonder, though," Jim rambled on, seemingly oblivious. "About the planets Starfleet didn't name. Just how many are named after…" He stopped again, and smiled over his shoulder. In the deepening gloom of the fast-approaching storm, his eyes were like blue flames, like tropical seas, like new worlds spinning in the dark of space, full of light and secrets. "Come on, Bones," he said. "I'm being romantic."
"Now you are?" Leonard's eyebrow went up again. "What about before?" Another raindrop splashed the back of his neck.
"Showing off." Jim cocked his head, giving Leonard a good glimpse of strong white neck (you don't get much of a tan on a starship, or in England in October), stubbled (and scarred) jaw line, and steep cheekbones. It was also a challenging posture and, as ever, Leonard couldn't resist. Two quick strides, and he and Jim were standing nose-to-nose, fingers threaded.
"You know, kid, you don't have to impress me. You got me." But even as he said it, he knew Jim's recitations hadn't been for him. Not altogether, anyhow. Leonard was as well read as the next man (unless the next man was Jim) but he didn't care if words were pretty or whether or not they rhymed. He was in it for the meaning, the emotion behind it all. Jim's true audience was the universe at large. (Look at me. Let me show you what I can do.) It wasn't an ego thing. At least, not all the time. The universe presented Jim with a challenge (gravity, for instance) and he had to respond. (I'll see your idyllic landscape and raise you these lines of poetry. Never mind the fact that he hadn't written them. He made them his.)
It was one of the reasons Leonard loved him, one of the reasons he was sometimes scared to death for him, and would follow him to the ends of the universe.
And to prove it - Leonard's dramatic gestures rarely shook worlds, but he still liked to make them, on occasion - he said, "Cockermouth, Jim? Really?" and laughed. Really laughed, the delight rising in him. Then he leaned in and kissed Jim's mouth just as the rain really started to fall.
Jim's fingers twisted with his. He gave this small hmmm of surprise, which tickled, and Leonard laughed again, deep in his belly, as he licked his way into Jim's mouth. He lifted his free hand to Jim's cheek, cupping, then stroking in an almost soothing manner as the rain ran like tears down the cool skin.
It was a hell of a shower and they were drenched in minutes, hair plastered to foreheads, lashes stuck together like the points of a star. Leonard took from Jim's mouth, and gave back (he was only truly happy when he was giving, and at that moment he was truly happy) and if the fingers that slid under his sweater now, and pressed against his skin were cold and wet - so the hell what? Never mind the cold, never mind the damp. Maybe they were responsible for the delicious shivers racing up his arms and across his shoulders. Or maybe it was Jim's tongue curling against his. Never mind, never mind.
For thou art with me here… Thou, my dearest friend, my dear, dear friend.
*
Dear Joanna,
Well, I suppose the good thing about catching cold in England is the abundance of tea. It's not so bad that we're not having a good time, though trying to convince Jim that he's in no shape to go tramping over hill and dale is like … well, you've met him. I'll say this much: I'm never bored. Though if I hear another word of Wordsworth, I'm sedating him for the rest of the honeymoon.
Love you, baby doll.
Dad
PS. Jim here. He's never bored because I'm amazingly good company. And who said anything about tramping? I'm happy where I am. Got my book, got my Bones. His sweater makes a lovely blaze. Though the other people staying here keep asking about the sheep smell. There's no need to threaten me with a hypo. Who brings a hypo on his honeymoon?
PPS. Anyone married to you? (Dad)
PPPS. (Jim again) Touché, Bones. Love you, Jo. Kirk out.
PPPPS. Like a light, in fact. Never even got near him with the hypo. Good old decongestants. Love you, Jo. -Dad
11/01/09