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fandom; star trek ( aos )
characters; jim kirk, leonard mccoy, spock
rating; pg-13, mostly
started; 7:10pm, 1/13/14
defiant –
→The rules are meant to be broken, he's always said, from the moment he was old enough to understand what they were in the first place – and he's still waiting for someone to prove him wrong.
powder –
→"Jim, the next time you get it in that fool head of yours to bake somethin' from scratch, think you could maybe not make such a damn mess?" he practically growls at his best friend, and Jim – who seems to have a bit of flour painting the bridge of his nose – just laughs, and shoves a cookie in his mouth.
grateful –
→Sometimes he wonders if getting on that shuttle in Riverside had been the best idea, if there could have been something he'd been missing, but when he thinks about everything he'd lost and all he's gained since then, there isn't much to wonder.
decent –
→He'll never understand the need for dress uniforms – really, what the hell's wrong with jeans and sneakers?
union –
→It'll never be on paper, but they don't need it to be; the three of them will never be far apart.
cleansed –
→He's never liked sonics as much as the real thing, and he attributes that to the fact of his mother insisting he take real baths as a child, and really, hot water does wonders for the knot of tension in the middle of his back that never seems to know when to let up.
go –
→"Punch it," he says, and if there were any more conviction in his voice, he might just sound a bit too much like the first man to have dared him to do better.
shame –
→Hand to hand, skin against skin, heat flushing the surface a muted green and dark eyes flutter closed against the twinge in the middle of his chest – logic fails in the face of a baser instinct, and he falls breathless and silent, allows it to engulf him.
objective –
→"I shall abstain," he says matter-of-factly, peering down the bridge of his nose at the small, foil-wrapped squares laid out on the table before them and, expertly quirking a brow, adds with a perceived bit of amusement, "Your efforts to bring about my inebriation have not gone unnoticed, however I suggest your next attempt not be made until you have discovered a manner in which to mask your transparency."
strength –
→It doesn't come in numbers, but in the flash of a smile before the scowl returns as though it had been nothing but a shadow at the corner of your peripheral vision.
life –
→He breathes it, embodies it – until you're looking down at him lying on a biobed in front of you, still-warm but growing cold, and it's as though it's all but bled from him as foundations begin to crumble, and you think damn it, Jim for the last time.
contempt –
→Nothing could ever be so beneath him as the one they've put back into stasis, even if for a handful of moments he'd stood to think they weren't all that different.
wrong –
→"Idiot," he mumbles, rolling his eyes even as he steps back to allow entrance to his quarters; it always starts with an I'm sorry and ends with an I know, and they both know how stupid it is, but they'll never be perfect, and they're all right with that.
sweeten –
→They both pretend not to notice how many spoonfuls of sugar he puts in his coffee every morning, even if by the middle of Alpha shift he's practically vibrating in the command chair and dead on his feet by the end of it, because saying something would mean he's worth fussing over, and neither of them can stand the thought of what it would do to his ego.
hands –
→A kiss pressed to the center of a palm with nothing but the brush of a thumb over skin, fingers entwined, and the intimacy of it is nearly overwhelming – at least, to one so unaccustomed to such a connection, and the Vulcan only sighs when hazel meets deep brown; you will learn.
strangle –
→"If you so much as breathe on my Ole Miss shirts again I'm gonna string you up by your toes and leave you to die," he growls, but somehow seems to overlook the fact that he's missing one – and that it's currently underneath a layer of command gold.
lullaby –
→His mother would sing to him as a child, Terran melodies long since ingrained in the back of his mind, and if anyone were to catch him in the small hours of the night, when the ship is quiet save for the thrum of the warp core down below, they may hear a hummed note here or there in her memory.
untouchable –
→He stays just out of reach, a grin playing across the line of his mouth as blue eyes fall to half-mast, leaning in to drop a teasing kiss to full, pink lips; patience is a virtue, he murmurs with a whiskey-dark lilt, and his grin only grows sharper with the resulting whine he's awarded.
whispered –
→Because words are dangerous, words can break and shatter and ruin, he leaves them in the space between shoulder blades under the blanket of stars just outside, written in breath and the ghost of fingertips; I love you.
prayers –
→There is no god to bring back what he's lost, and he hasn't wished on stars since he was a boy in his backyard in Georgia – but old habits die hard, and at maximum warp they all look to be falling, and what could it hurt, so long as no one else knows?
obvious –
→His eyes light up like Christmas, and with the way he leans forward, peers at the viewscreen as though it holds the secrets of the universe, it could never be mistaken that the boy breathes adventure with every inhale.
rhythm –
→"Absolutely not," he grumbles, even as Jim sways back and forth in front of him like some ridiculous marionette on invisible strings, "I am not drunk enough to dance with you in public."
afterlife –
→Whoever said there's supposed to be a white light lied – it's nothing but cold and dark, and you know that feeling you get when you know you're dreaming, but you can't wake up and you're screaming but no one can hear you – yeah, it's kinda like that.
hidden –
→It's not to be mysterious, but no one will ever fathom the whole of him, because the depths of him are written in a dead language that everyone has forgotten, and he prefers it that way.
parade –
→"No, they are not gonna give you beads if you take off your shirt – Jim, I swear to god –"
touch –
→The first, because he's never quite known the boundary of personal space, the brush of fingertips over the back of a hand – and he feels the jolt, takes a sharp breath in, pupils already blown … and does it again.
free –
→He should feel a weight has been lifted, should be able to breathe easy now that the pain is gone, but as he looks at the figure on the bed, the man that has been his only inspiration now still and cold, all that registers is guilt.
enjoy –
→"Live a little, hobgoblin," he says with the faint hint of a smile, "or haven't you heard that all work and no play makes Spock a pain in my ass?"
shining –
→Stardust paints a pretty picture against the backdrop, the blackness of space, and he traces the outlines of what will be with the edge of excitement, smile tinged with the wonder of a boy finally realizing that dreams really can come true.
overflow –
→Whole, happy, home – it burst from them both, wrapping him in a sense of belonging, and he thinks he could gladly drown in it even as they both look at him like he's just suggested another five years in space.
finished; 9:08pm, 1/13/14
characters; jim kirk, leonard mccoy, spock
rating; pg-13, mostly
started; 7:10pm, 1/13/14
defiant –
→The rules are meant to be broken, he's always said, from the moment he was old enough to understand what they were in the first place – and he's still waiting for someone to prove him wrong.
powder –
→"Jim, the next time you get it in that fool head of yours to bake somethin' from scratch, think you could maybe not make such a damn mess?" he practically growls at his best friend, and Jim – who seems to have a bit of flour painting the bridge of his nose – just laughs, and shoves a cookie in his mouth.
grateful –
→Sometimes he wonders if getting on that shuttle in Riverside had been the best idea, if there could have been something he'd been missing, but when he thinks about everything he'd lost and all he's gained since then, there isn't much to wonder.
decent –
→He'll never understand the need for dress uniforms – really, what the hell's wrong with jeans and sneakers?
union –
→It'll never be on paper, but they don't need it to be; the three of them will never be far apart.
cleansed –
→He's never liked sonics as much as the real thing, and he attributes that to the fact of his mother insisting he take real baths as a child, and really, hot water does wonders for the knot of tension in the middle of his back that never seems to know when to let up.
go –
→"Punch it," he says, and if there were any more conviction in his voice, he might just sound a bit too much like the first man to have dared him to do better.
shame –
→Hand to hand, skin against skin, heat flushing the surface a muted green and dark eyes flutter closed against the twinge in the middle of his chest – logic fails in the face of a baser instinct, and he falls breathless and silent, allows it to engulf him.
objective –
→"I shall abstain," he says matter-of-factly, peering down the bridge of his nose at the small, foil-wrapped squares laid out on the table before them and, expertly quirking a brow, adds with a perceived bit of amusement, "Your efforts to bring about my inebriation have not gone unnoticed, however I suggest your next attempt not be made until you have discovered a manner in which to mask your transparency."
strength –
→It doesn't come in numbers, but in the flash of a smile before the scowl returns as though it had been nothing but a shadow at the corner of your peripheral vision.
life –
→He breathes it, embodies it – until you're looking down at him lying on a biobed in front of you, still-warm but growing cold, and it's as though it's all but bled from him as foundations begin to crumble, and you think damn it, Jim for the last time.
contempt –
→Nothing could ever be so beneath him as the one they've put back into stasis, even if for a handful of moments he'd stood to think they weren't all that different.
wrong –
→"Idiot," he mumbles, rolling his eyes even as he steps back to allow entrance to his quarters; it always starts with an I'm sorry and ends with an I know, and they both know how stupid it is, but they'll never be perfect, and they're all right with that.
sweeten –
→They both pretend not to notice how many spoonfuls of sugar he puts in his coffee every morning, even if by the middle of Alpha shift he's practically vibrating in the command chair and dead on his feet by the end of it, because saying something would mean he's worth fussing over, and neither of them can stand the thought of what it would do to his ego.
hands –
→A kiss pressed to the center of a palm with nothing but the brush of a thumb over skin, fingers entwined, and the intimacy of it is nearly overwhelming – at least, to one so unaccustomed to such a connection, and the Vulcan only sighs when hazel meets deep brown; you will learn.
strangle –
→"If you so much as breathe on my Ole Miss shirts again I'm gonna string you up by your toes and leave you to die," he growls, but somehow seems to overlook the fact that he's missing one – and that it's currently underneath a layer of command gold.
lullaby –
→His mother would sing to him as a child, Terran melodies long since ingrained in the back of his mind, and if anyone were to catch him in the small hours of the night, when the ship is quiet save for the thrum of the warp core down below, they may hear a hummed note here or there in her memory.
untouchable –
→He stays just out of reach, a grin playing across the line of his mouth as blue eyes fall to half-mast, leaning in to drop a teasing kiss to full, pink lips; patience is a virtue, he murmurs with a whiskey-dark lilt, and his grin only grows sharper with the resulting whine he's awarded.
whispered –
→Because words are dangerous, words can break and shatter and ruin, he leaves them in the space between shoulder blades under the blanket of stars just outside, written in breath and the ghost of fingertips; I love you.
prayers –
→There is no god to bring back what he's lost, and he hasn't wished on stars since he was a boy in his backyard in Georgia – but old habits die hard, and at maximum warp they all look to be falling, and what could it hurt, so long as no one else knows?
obvious –
→His eyes light up like Christmas, and with the way he leans forward, peers at the viewscreen as though it holds the secrets of the universe, it could never be mistaken that the boy breathes adventure with every inhale.
rhythm –
→"Absolutely not," he grumbles, even as Jim sways back and forth in front of him like some ridiculous marionette on invisible strings, "I am not drunk enough to dance with you in public."
afterlife –
→Whoever said there's supposed to be a white light lied – it's nothing but cold and dark, and you know that feeling you get when you know you're dreaming, but you can't wake up and you're screaming but no one can hear you – yeah, it's kinda like that.
hidden –
→It's not to be mysterious, but no one will ever fathom the whole of him, because the depths of him are written in a dead language that everyone has forgotten, and he prefers it that way.
parade –
→"No, they are not gonna give you beads if you take off your shirt – Jim, I swear to god –"
touch –
→The first, because he's never quite known the boundary of personal space, the brush of fingertips over the back of a hand – and he feels the jolt, takes a sharp breath in, pupils already blown … and does it again.
free –
→He should feel a weight has been lifted, should be able to breathe easy now that the pain is gone, but as he looks at the figure on the bed, the man that has been his only inspiration now still and cold, all that registers is guilt.
enjoy –
→"Live a little, hobgoblin," he says with the faint hint of a smile, "or haven't you heard that all work and no play makes Spock a pain in my ass?"
shining –
→Stardust paints a pretty picture against the backdrop, the blackness of space, and he traces the outlines of what will be with the edge of excitement, smile tinged with the wonder of a boy finally realizing that dreams really can come true.
overflow –
→Whole, happy, home – it burst from them both, wrapping him in a sense of belonging, and he thinks he could gladly drown in it even as they both look at him like he's just suggested another five years in space.
finished; 9:08pm, 1/13/14