I want Jim to put his broken crew back together.
I want him to take Scotty out for a pub crawl, put him and Keenser to bed on the couch, be there when he wakes up from the nightmare of discovering his captain in the Warp Core.
I want him to fence with Sulu (letting him teach and ultimately school Jim), clap Hikaru on the back and tell him he’s proud for not abandoning Spock when ordered to.
I want him to take Chekov to a Russian festival, letting the younger Navigator tell Jim what foods to try, what to buy, what stalls to talk to the proprietors.
I want Jim to go with Spock to see Ambassador Spock. To learn the best chess moves, to hear the stories the older Vulcan is ready and able to tell, to remember that this friendship went to hell and back before, it can again.
I want Jim to let Uhura choose what she wants to do. The whole day, whatever she wants. Linguistics conference? Art exhibit? Some lute playing? Whatever. They tease each other the whole time she drags him along and Jim’s never been as comfortable out of his element as he is with her.
I want him to take Carol home to England. To have tea with her mother. To talk not about their fathers or guilt or anything else but about science and the ship and how to make Spock’s ears tinge green.
I want Jim to surprise Bones with Joanna (It wasn’t hard to get Eleanora McCoy to persuade Jocelyn and Spock and Uhura collected her from the shuttle). I want them to spend the weekend going to the zoo, the acquarium, to the movies. I want the heaviness of what happened to be filled with Jo’s giggles, her endless innocent questions, her happy exclamations.
I want game night. Competitive and loud, I want bets placed on who will win LIFE, MONOPOLY, Who killed who in Clue. I want Twister (possibly drunk Twister) and Trivia and staying up until even the ship’s computers don’t know what time it is.
I want Jim to know that like him, they’re still broken but that each thing big or small he can do, can help set them whole again.
i find my cosmic insignificance reassuring
the stars don’t fucking care who i am or what i do
i owe the universe nothing
i exist on my own terms
#when existentialism becomes comforting rather than horrifying
Star Trek AU | Secret Intelligence Agency
Inspired by this post
So much about this that I love.
On Friday nights, everyone is able to forget what Jim Kirk did the rest of the week.
As long as he got that pigskin to the running back, called the plays right, and followed Pike’s lead, most people in Dillon could forget who he was fucking, what abuse Frank had screamed…
If you can’t at least appreciate the dynamics of mckirk, spirk, and spones on some level, then yes I see why mcspirk might elude you as a ship. It is the sum of its parts - parts which are lovely in each combination but amazingly beautiful when brought together.
an au where jim works at enterprise, a medicinal stock company that delivers drug stock to the general medical hospital in georgia and bones always fights to be the one on duty to sign off on the stock just to ogle the hot delivery man with the incredibly fit…
Sometimes, Jim just gets in a mood.
There isn’t always a reason. Sam used to make fun of him for it when they were kids, before Tarsus. He’d say Jim was on his period, because that is the sort of bizarre thing that 13-year-old boys say to their 9-year-old brothers when…
"Jim, no offense, but you have no idea how to take care of someone who’s sick."
Well, he’s not wrong.
Jim isn’t a doctor, no. He’s never taken so much as a CPR course. He doesn’t know what dose of acetaminophen to load into…
McCoy watching medical drama shows and yelling at the screen about what they’re doing wrong - "that’s not how you clamp an artery, you idiots! You call yourselves doctors!" - and by the end of it McCoy’s ranting about the lack of research and sheer inaccuracy of it and Jim’s just laughing like a hyena.
One of the things Jim liked most about his General Practice and Basic Emergency module—and let’s be honest here, there wasn’t many—was that it remained the only class he shared with Bones. It meant they could pair up for joint presentations, share notes for assignments and generally spend their lectures sending each other comms in their usual, well-concealed spot in the back row. It was an easy class; every scrap of information given to them seemed obvious, bordering on asinine. Even Leonard, with his irascible nature and his hard-ass facade could muster up just enough diplomacy and drop just enough sass to give them exactly what they wanted for a 98% grade average.
But it was compulsory for all first year students to take for at least two semesters. There was no getting out of it. Once a week every week for the duration the Spring and Summer term. Jim, honest as he was, admitted to using the fifty minute period on more than one occassion to do some of his second and third year prospective reading. He wanted to get ahead, of course, and this class certainly wasn’t going to help him with that.
He wanted a challenge. Was that really too much to ask?