ST:XI fic: Not Easily Impressed (gen, Uhura, Kirk, McCoy, PG)
Yeah, I said I wouldn't write another word of Star Trek until Merlin BB was finished. I lied, okay?
Title: Not Easily Impressed
Author: Zinnith
Paring: mostly gen, with background Uhura/Spock (could be Kirk/McCoy if you take off your glasses, turn your head, and squint).
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~1100
Warning: Butchering of the English language (i.e. unbeta'd). Pure self-indulgent hurt/comfort with no literary qualities whatsoever.
Notes: Written for this prompt over at st_xi_kink. Other people have written this before me. Hell, I have written this before me. But who am I to resist a whumped Kirk? I own my shame, guys, I OWN MY SHAME.
Also, Uhura is awesome. Just thought I'd say in case someone missed that.
Summary: Uhura has to give James Kirk one thing - he has endurance.
Uhura is not easily impressed. It comes with being beautiful, she knows; having guys and girls of all forms and shapes trying to impress her, draw a smile from her lips. When she was younger, she enjoyed the attention, up until the moment she realised that none of them wanted her for her. The only thing they were interested in was the conquest, the satisfaction of having a beautiful woman by their side. These days, she can't think of anything more unattractive than people completely convinced of their own coolness.
People like James T. Kirk.
He annoyed her the very first time they met and he just kept on annoying her through the three years that followed. He's everything she detests in a man, a swaggering smirking asshole whose very being screams out 'look how awesome I am'.
You have to give him one thing though, he has endurance.
Most guys she snubs hold out a few weeks before they realise that they really will get nowhere with her. Then they drop off, muttering about what a bitch she is. Kirk started flirting the very moment he laid eyes on her and hasn't stopped since. Granted, he flirts with everything that moves, and she's fairly certain he understands by now that the two of them is never going to happen. Yet every time they see each other, he winks and smiles at her as if there's some kind of funny joke they share.
Sometimes, she smiles back. Just to keep him on his toes.
Right now though, she's far too tired to smile at all. She's seen too much death in the past few days, too much destruction. Now that she's finally off-duty, all she wants is sleep and Spock, not neccessarily in that order.
She's completely unprepared when she runs into Kirk on her way back to her quarters. The last time she saw him, he was on the bridge, sprawling in the Captain's chair and looking smug, like a king lording over his court.
There's nothing royal about him now. It looks like he was on his way somewhere and just stopped midstep, needing to hold on to something lest he falls on his face. His expression is blank, his eyes dazed, and he's probably taken a few too many hits to the head lately. He's leaning against the bulkhead like it's the only thing keeping him upright.
"Captain?" she asks, figuring that after all that's happened, she can at least give him that little thing. "Are you all right?"
Kirk blinks a few times, shakes his head. He looks terrible. She's seen him beat up before; James T. Kirk holds the Academy record of getting into barfights. But she's never seen him quite like this.
"Fine," he mutters, as if to himself. Then he looks up and seems to notice she's there. The grin makes his split lip open up again. There's blood on his teeth and a slight slur to his words. "I'm good, Nyota. That's a pretty name by the way, you should've told me."
He pushes away from the wall and walks a few unsteady steps. Then his legs give out from under him and he folds, drops to the deck like a sack of flour.
Uhura is just a little bit too late to catch him before his head hits the ground with a loud thunk. Kirk's eyes are rolled back, only the whites visible. He's well and truly out. Uhura takes stock of the situation and wonders exactly how much trouble she would be in if she was to just leave him where he is and go to bed. She arranges Kirk's arms and legs in a slightly more comfortable position, checks his pulse and breathing. Someone else will surely come by in a moment. Kirk is not her responsibility, not her problem. She has her own man to worry about.
She sighs, reaches for her communicator and alerts Dr McCoy. Then she sits down on the deck next to Kirk and waits.
McCoy shows up just a few moments later, as if he'd been waiting for the hail. At seeing them, he stops and raises an eyebrow. "Did he fall over on his own or did you knock him on his ass? Not that I'd blame you if you did, I've been entertaining the thought myself."
Uhura lets a short laugh slip out. McCoy looks about as tired as Uhura feels. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and the lines on his face look a little deeper, a little more pronounced than usual. He's in dire need of a shower. Then again, they all are. Uhura doesn't exactly smell like roses herself.
"He collapsed," she says as McCoy kneels by Kirk's side, doing a quick exam.
"Ran himself into the ground. He does that. I couldn't get him to lie down until everyone else were safe," McCoy explains tiredly, gently slapping Kirk's face. "C'mon Jim, wake up, you lazy bastard. The cleaning crew will mistake you for trash and dump you down the garbage chute."
Kirk groans and his eyelids flutter open, only to close again. He turns his face into McCoy's touch, mumbling something unaudible.
"Don't," McCoy growls. "I'm not carrying your heavy ass, Jim. Either you walk to Sick Bay on your own, or I'll send for a stretcher." Then he grabs a fistful of Kirk's hair and pulls.
Kirk yelps awake, blinking his eyes open. "Ow," he mutters. "Di'nt have t' do that."
"One day," McCoy says. "I'm going to write a book. I'm going to call it 'One Hundred Ways Jim Kirk is an Idiot'. It'll be a bestseller. Are you going to get up or should I get that stretcher?"
"No stretcher," Kirk slurs, trying to raise himself on uncooperative arms. McCoy grabs hold of him and helps him to his feet, holding him upright when his legs don't want to take his weight.
Uhura watches from where she's sitting with her back to the bulkhead and her legs folded under her. She longs for her shower and her bed. She's going to sleep for a day, and then she'll hunt down Spock and try to convince her difficult lover that losing his mother, his planet, and his entire race makes it okay for him to need comfort.
McCoy struggles with Kirk's dead weight, insulting his IQ, parentage and general appearence. Uhura stands up. "Can I help?" she asks and gets a weary, grateful look in return.
"Sure, grab his other side. He's probably too out of it to try to feel you up. No promises though."
Uhura smiles at the doctor and slings Kirk's other arm over her shoulders. "I'll take the risk."
Maybe she's a little impressed after all.
-fin-
Title: Not Easily Impressed
Author: Zinnith
Paring: mostly gen, with background Uhura/Spock (could be Kirk/McCoy if you take off your glasses, turn your head, and squint).
Rating: PG
Wordcount: ~1100
Warning: Butchering of the English language (i.e. unbeta'd). Pure self-indulgent hurt/comfort with no literary qualities whatsoever.
Notes: Written for this prompt over at st_xi_kink. Other people have written this before me. Hell, I have written this before me. But who am I to resist a whumped Kirk? I own my shame, guys, I OWN MY SHAME.
Also, Uhura is awesome. Just thought I'd say in case someone missed that.
Summary: Uhura has to give James Kirk one thing - he has endurance.
Uhura is not easily impressed. It comes with being beautiful, she knows; having guys and girls of all forms and shapes trying to impress her, draw a smile from her lips. When she was younger, she enjoyed the attention, up until the moment she realised that none of them wanted her for her. The only thing they were interested in was the conquest, the satisfaction of having a beautiful woman by their side. These days, she can't think of anything more unattractive than people completely convinced of their own coolness.
People like James T. Kirk.
He annoyed her the very first time they met and he just kept on annoying her through the three years that followed. He's everything she detests in a man, a swaggering smirking asshole whose very being screams out 'look how awesome I am'.
You have to give him one thing though, he has endurance.
Most guys she snubs hold out a few weeks before they realise that they really will get nowhere with her. Then they drop off, muttering about what a bitch she is. Kirk started flirting the very moment he laid eyes on her and hasn't stopped since. Granted, he flirts with everything that moves, and she's fairly certain he understands by now that the two of them is never going to happen. Yet every time they see each other, he winks and smiles at her as if there's some kind of funny joke they share.
Sometimes, she smiles back. Just to keep him on his toes.
Right now though, she's far too tired to smile at all. She's seen too much death in the past few days, too much destruction. Now that she's finally off-duty, all she wants is sleep and Spock, not neccessarily in that order.
She's completely unprepared when she runs into Kirk on her way back to her quarters. The last time she saw him, he was on the bridge, sprawling in the Captain's chair and looking smug, like a king lording over his court.
There's nothing royal about him now. It looks like he was on his way somewhere and just stopped midstep, needing to hold on to something lest he falls on his face. His expression is blank, his eyes dazed, and he's probably taken a few too many hits to the head lately. He's leaning against the bulkhead like it's the only thing keeping him upright.
"Captain?" she asks, figuring that after all that's happened, she can at least give him that little thing. "Are you all right?"
Kirk blinks a few times, shakes his head. He looks terrible. She's seen him beat up before; James T. Kirk holds the Academy record of getting into barfights. But she's never seen him quite like this.
"Fine," he mutters, as if to himself. Then he looks up and seems to notice she's there. The grin makes his split lip open up again. There's blood on his teeth and a slight slur to his words. "I'm good, Nyota. That's a pretty name by the way, you should've told me."
He pushes away from the wall and walks a few unsteady steps. Then his legs give out from under him and he folds, drops to the deck like a sack of flour.
Uhura is just a little bit too late to catch him before his head hits the ground with a loud thunk. Kirk's eyes are rolled back, only the whites visible. He's well and truly out. Uhura takes stock of the situation and wonders exactly how much trouble she would be in if she was to just leave him where he is and go to bed. She arranges Kirk's arms and legs in a slightly more comfortable position, checks his pulse and breathing. Someone else will surely come by in a moment. Kirk is not her responsibility, not her problem. She has her own man to worry about.
She sighs, reaches for her communicator and alerts Dr McCoy. Then she sits down on the deck next to Kirk and waits.
McCoy shows up just a few moments later, as if he'd been waiting for the hail. At seeing them, he stops and raises an eyebrow. "Did he fall over on his own or did you knock him on his ass? Not that I'd blame you if you did, I've been entertaining the thought myself."
Uhura lets a short laugh slip out. McCoy looks about as tired as Uhura feels. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and the lines on his face look a little deeper, a little more pronounced than usual. He's in dire need of a shower. Then again, they all are. Uhura doesn't exactly smell like roses herself.
"He collapsed," she says as McCoy kneels by Kirk's side, doing a quick exam.
"Ran himself into the ground. He does that. I couldn't get him to lie down until everyone else were safe," McCoy explains tiredly, gently slapping Kirk's face. "C'mon Jim, wake up, you lazy bastard. The cleaning crew will mistake you for trash and dump you down the garbage chute."
Kirk groans and his eyelids flutter open, only to close again. He turns his face into McCoy's touch, mumbling something unaudible.
"Don't," McCoy growls. "I'm not carrying your heavy ass, Jim. Either you walk to Sick Bay on your own, or I'll send for a stretcher." Then he grabs a fistful of Kirk's hair and pulls.
Kirk yelps awake, blinking his eyes open. "Ow," he mutters. "Di'nt have t' do that."
"One day," McCoy says. "I'm going to write a book. I'm going to call it 'One Hundred Ways Jim Kirk is an Idiot'. It'll be a bestseller. Are you going to get up or should I get that stretcher?"
"No stretcher," Kirk slurs, trying to raise himself on uncooperative arms. McCoy grabs hold of him and helps him to his feet, holding him upright when his legs don't want to take his weight.
Uhura watches from where she's sitting with her back to the bulkhead and her legs folded under her. She longs for her shower and her bed. She's going to sleep for a day, and then she'll hunt down Spock and try to convince her difficult lover that losing his mother, his planet, and his entire race makes it okay for him to need comfort.
McCoy struggles with Kirk's dead weight, insulting his IQ, parentage and general appearence. Uhura stands up. "Can I help?" she asks and gets a weary, grateful look in return.
"Sure, grab his other side. He's probably too out of it to try to feel you up. No promises though."
Uhura smiles at the doctor and slings Kirk's other arm over her shoulders. "I'll take the risk."
Maybe she's a little impressed after all.
-fin-