#but really he's up on the ship with scotty suffering terribly

[spirk-trek]

S3E17: That Which Survives ⋆.˚ ✧ · ˚⊹ ·

[fireinmywoods]

fic: palimpsest [3/8]

“Skip to the point, Jim. The sooner you spit it out, the sooner I can refuse and get back to work.”

“It’s really no big deal,” Jim says as the door slides closed behind them. “I just need you to come down to Hearth with us…as my husband.”

The Enterprise has been sent to negotiate reaccession to the Federation with an isolationist religious group known as the Kindred. While there, Jim notices that some of the children seem to be gravely ill. The problem is, the Kindred practice faith healing and refuse to allow a doctor to be brought in. So Jim does what he does best: he improvises.

CHAPTER 3: In which dinner is served, Leonard is not a people person, and Hearth’s newest celebrity couple finally get a moment alone. Sort of. PG/Teen, ~4,300 words. [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

Given the Kindred’s apparent fondness for living metaphors, Leonard isn’t surprised to learn that their main hall is built around an actual hearth: a colossal stone fireplace in the center of the room, open on all sides and laid with a roaring fire which fills the entire hall with heat and light.

The Kindred apparently eat most every meal together, and they’re not overly fussy about individual family units. They really do seem to view the whole clan as one big family, and that extends to mealtimes, when they all sit themselves down at the long tables filling the congregation hall, sharing a bench with whatever Brothers or Sisters or Aunts or Uncles they happen to end up near.

 The Enterprise crew is more intentionally seated at a table with several Councilors and what seem to be some portion of their immediate families. To Leonard’s chagrin, he and Jim are placed front and center, right where everyone at the table can get a nice clear look at them. Leonard hasn’t felt so overtly on display since his and Jocelyn’s wedding reception. At least the Kindred aren’t likely to start tapping their cups to make him and Jim kiss – though he has no doubt they’d be all for it if they knew it were an option.

 Their fellow diners are obviously hoping for an encore to Jim’s earlier performance, and Jim doesn’t disappoint. He’s very much on from the moment they sit down, chatting away with everyone around them, asking endless questions about their families  – How long have you been married? How many grandchildren do you have? When’s the baby due? – and listening to their responses with what appears to be genuine interest, smiling and nodding and offering compliments in all the right places. He peppers the conversation with lighthearted anecdotes of his own, blending fact and fiction so skillfully that even Leonard can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins: his disastrous first attempt at recreating his grandmother’s pot roast recipe, the Enterprise’s recent visit to a planet where the natives aged backwards, the time he dropped his wedding ring in the Tullisian Poison Swamp and nearly lost a hand getting it back, the neighbor girl who lived downstairs from his and Leonard’s first apartment and decided the best strategy for pursuing her passionate seven-year-old crush on Leonard was to compose elaborate signed confessions from “Jim” disclosing all the terrible crimes he’d committed.

 (“Oh, she hated my guts,” he says, laughing along with his audience. “Poor kid. I had to feel for her. If I’d had any real competition for Leonard back before we were married, I probably would’ve done something ever crazier – and I was an adult.”)

 Through it all, he’s constantly checking in with Leonard, looking over to take in his reaction to a story, turning to him for confirmation of some trivial detail or another, lavishing him with a thousand unnecessary touches. He brushes imaginary crumbs off Leonard’s sleeve and steals bites from his plate, teases and flatters him, leans in close to whisper side comments in his ear. He’s playing his role as smitten, attentive husband to the absolute hilt – well past the point of overkill, in Leonard’s opinion, but the Kindred are eating it right up. They really must be starved for entertainment out here.

 Leonard supposes he should be thankful for the dynamic they’ve established, in which Jim does the heavy lifting and all he has to do is play along. Even so, it’s nerve-wracking being so intensely under the spotlight, knowing his every word and expression are being scrutinized and dissected by a bunch of strangers. And as for the touching – well, he can’t say he minds it, if he’s being honest with himself, but there’s something profoundly disconcerting about how performative it all is, the unsettling nagging thought that Jim’s just giving the people what they want to see. It’s been a long time since he felt like he had to second-guess Jim’s intentions or wonder what he’s really thinking. This feels like backsliding, and it bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

 At least the food is decent: platters of golden cornbread, bowls of creamy polenta seasoned with little bits of bacon, a bittersweet corn-based drink the Kindred call avati. It’s the plainest of fare, but well-prepared. At least it hasn’t come out of a food slot, which gives it an edge over most of what Leonard’s eaten since they left Earth.

 At one point while most people at the table are distracted with side conversations, the man on Leonard’s other side leans over and tops up his and Jim’s tankards with a strangely meaningful smile. Leonard awkwardly smiles back, not understanding – at least not until he raises his cup to drink and catches a whiff of what’s inside.

 “Wow.” Jim sputters a laugh into his tankard. “This is, uh…very strong, Brother Ernesto.”

 “Even the most conscientious among us are not immune to momentary lapses, I’m afraid,” Ernesto says gravely, his eyes alight with a distinctly un-Kindredlike glint of mischief. “You see, some time ago I produced a barrel of good wholesome avati and stored it overnight in the back corner of my cellar, intending to retrieve it the next afternoon for my daughter’s wedding. In all the fuss of preparation the next day, however, it simply slipped my mind. Sadly, by the time I discovered my error, the damage was already done, and the avati had degraded into this…subpar swill. But the gods bid us not to waste that which they have so graciously provided, so I resigned myself to consuming it myself so as not to make others suffer for my mistake.” His mouth twitches, not quite disguised by the cover of his bushy, grey-threaded beard. “Fortunately, I am blessed with a few steadfast friends who are willing to partake of the vile brew in order to share my burden.”

“We should all have such friends,” Jim says with a smile. “My husband and I are honored to be counted among them.” He takes a draught off his tankard, maintaining an impressively straight face while he rolls it around his mouth and swallows.

 “It has quite a strong taste, but not altogether unpleasant, wouldn’t you say?” Ernesto says, watching Jim keenly for his reaction.

 “Not unpleasant at all,” Jim says, lying through his teeth. That poker face may have fooled Ernesto, but Leonard’s been drinking with him for years. He could tell it took all Jim’s considerable willpower not to spit his mouthful right back into the cup.

 Leonard can’t say he blames him. He’s drunk his fair share of moonshine and home brews, but this stuff is first cousin to rubbing alcohol; he feels like he might go blind just sniffing at it. If it wouldn’t cause a scene, he’d seriously consider smacking the tankard out of Jim’s hand to keep him from poisoning himself.

 A pair of little boys run up to the table, tugging on the baggy sleeve of Ernesto’s robe, and he turns away to address them. Jim takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper in Leonard’s ear, “Oh my God, it’s like orientine acid. I think it’s eating a hole through my stomach lining.”

 “You need to stop drinking every damn thing people hand you,” Leonard mutters back. “I’d’ve thought you’d know better after your little adventure on Rejo II.”

 “Are you kidding? I’d drink that elixir again in a heartbeat. I could see sounds, Bones. How awesome is that?”

 Leonard doesn’t know why he bothers. “Yeah, well, keep drinking that shit and the only thing you’ll be seeing is the inside of a toilet bowl.”

 “They don’t have toilets here,” Jim says cheerfully. “Indoor plumbing is a worldly luxury to be shunned by all the gods’ righteous children. Did I not mention that?”

 Leonard mentally adds a week to Jim’s imprisonment in medbay. And more beets. The little bastard’s gonna be up to his eyeballs in beets by the time Leonard’s through with him.

 +

 Leonard is hopeful that dinner will mark the end of what has been a longer, weirder, and exponentially more stressful day than he expected when he got up this morning. Unfortunately, their hosts have other plans. After the meal is over and the dishes have been cleared away, they’re ushered outside to where another massive fire has been laid in an open pit, surrounded by rings of rough-hewn wooden benches. From the noises the Kindred are making, this is the setting for some kind of socializing and fellowship hour, which is sure to drag on even more torturously than dinner without the distraction of food. The prospect makes Leonard want to scream, or maybe take off running through the cornfields, comm the ship and beg Scotty to please please please bring him back before he has to feign interest in one more rambling account of which great-great-grandmother begat which branch of cousins.

 But then – as with most of the disasters Leonard finds himself in the middle of these days – there’s Jim to consider. Jim needs him here. He’s worried about the kids, about this mystery illness Leonard has yet to catch hide or hair of, and he’s counting on Leonard to help him figure it out. Leonard can’t just leave him in the lurch.

 He steals a glance at Jim, hoping to shore up his resolve one way or another, and startles when he meets Jim’s eyes, having evidently caught him in the middle of his own glance. The tiny shock of it jolts through him, tightens his grip on Jim’s hand. It’s pure reflex, nothing more, but Jim squeezes back anyhow, and smiles at him – as if he’s really and truly happy to be standing here in the ass-end of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by cornfields and sanctimonious puritans, holding Leonard’s hand.

 Damn it all to hell.

 All right, fine. Leonard will play nice a while longer, for Jim’s sake. If he’s going to do that, though, he needs a break, and he needs it right the fuck now.

 He makes a beeline for one of the farthest-flung benches, Jim following close behind, clinging to his hand like he has been all day. That’s fine. Leonard’s only trying to escape the slavering wolf pack of their audience, not Jim himself. He just needs some space to decompress, turn off for a few minutes, and Jim’s the one person in the universe who doesn’t feel like work to be around. Even after all the shit he’s pulled today, Leonard would still rather have the jackass with him than not.

 He takes a seat at the very end of one of the outer benches – whoever’s going to be pestering them next, they can be Jim’s problem, not his – and Jim plunks down beside him, so close he’s practically in his lap.

 “How you holdin’ up?” he asks quietly, drawing their hands over to rest on his leg. That particular move is undoubtedly for the Kindred’s viewing pleasure, but the question is just regular old Jim, direct and unaffected, and it goes a little way toward soothing Leonard’s frazzled nerves.

 But only a little way. “You owe me big time.”

 Jim gives a low whistle. “That well, huh?” He takes a sip from his tankard. Leonard left his behind in the congregation hall, glad of the excuse, but Jim seems to like having a prop, or else he’s quickly developed a taste for shitty hooch. “Well, the good news is, this shouldn’t last too long. The Kindred are the ‘early to bed, early to rise’ type.”

 “No,” Leonard says sardonically. “These party animals? And here I was looking forward to sampling the local nightlife.”

 Jim grins into his cup. “Careful Brother Ernesto doesn’t hear you say that. The guy’s running a secret still right under the Mother’s nose – I bet he’d be happy to invite us over for some after-hours boozing. Who knows who else is in on it? We could end up partying the night away with half the Council.”

 Leonard makes a face. “I’ll pass, thanks.” Jim can have another hour of halfhearted civility out of him, tops, and then he is well and truly done for the night. His tolerance for small talk and ass-kissing only extends so far, even for Jim.

 He’s actually kind of surprised that they haven’t already been swarmed by their adoring fans. In what may be the first stroke of luck he’s had all day, Sulu and Aaronson are sitting all the way on the other side of the fire, each of them having been waylaid by Kindred members eager to show off their (many, many) children. So far, though, Leonard and Jim have managed to escape the same fate. The benches around them are gradually filling up with grey-robed occupants, but no one has joined them on theirs.

 Speak of the devil. Leonard spots an older fellow heading in their direction and groans internally, steeling himself for another onslaught of chitchat and platitudes – but then a ruddy-faced woman (the man’s wife, most likely) catches him by the arm and steers him to another bench, whispering something in his ear. She glances back over at them once she and her husband are seated, and Jim raises his tankard in a toast and shoots her a showy wink.

 Oh. So that’s what this is. They’re not really out of the spotlight at all. The Kindred are just giving them their own little stage apart from the crowd, like zoologists keeping a prudent distance from their research subjects to observe how they behave in their natural environment.

 It’s a faux privacy they’re being offered, but Leonard will take it. Anything to get a few minutes of peace and quiet – or what passes for it where Jim’s concerned, anyway.

 He eyes the tankard Jim’s been nursing, wondering if he needs to worry about him getting sloppy on top of everything else. Jim’s a pretty mellow drunk these days, but there’s no telling what a bellyful of bathtub gin will do to him. “How much of that rotgut have you had?”

 “Just the one taste,” Jim says, which seems like an unusually bold lie even for him, at least until he sticks his cup under Leonard’s nose, cluing him in to the fact that the contents have somehow been reverse-miracled from whiskey into water. “Switched it out as soon as I could. That shit’s like 200 proof, and my doctor told me I’m not allowed to do anything stupid.”

 Leonard cracks a smile at that, his nerves settling a little more. “Sound advice. Color me impressed that you’re actually following it.”

 “Excuse me, I have been an angel these past few weeks,” Jim says with exaggerated affront. “I’ve been doing my PT, haven’t I? I’ve come for all my follow-ups, on time and everything, even though you always pawn me off on Chapel and you know she loves finding excuses to jab me with stuff. I took a break from sparring, I’ve been eating all the gross vegetables on your list, I haven’t been in a single fistfight – I’m following your rules to the letter, and you’re still not satisfied.”

 “Oh, get off your damn high horse,” Leonard says. “What do you want, a medal? Keeping yourself alive for a few measly weeks isn’t some back-breaking ordeal for most folks, you know. Besides, you’ll be back to your old tricks as soon as the clock runs out. You’re like some little hellraiser pretending to be nice until Christmas to impress Santa. You ain’t fooling me, kid. We both know good and well which list you belong on.”

 “Unbelievable,” Jim says – another of his uncanny impersonations, though he never can get Leonard’s accent quite right. He raises his cup for a drink and adds loftily, “I guess there’s no pleasing some people.”

 They fall into a comfortable silence after that, Jim probably eavesdropping on nearby conversations while Leonard does his very best to tune them out as he casts fruitlessly around for something to distract him from his slowly ebbing agitation. He doesn’t want to glance around the crowd too much, wary of making eye contact and accidentally inviting over unwanted company, and there’s not a lot else to look at. They’re surrounded by corn, corn, and more corn, the peaked roofs of the congregation hall and a few nearby houses barely visible over the towering stalks. The double moons overhead are kinda interesting, one nearly full, the other a slender reddish crescent, but they can only hold his attention for so long. The rest of the sky is just stars, and lord knows he’s seen enough of those to last him a lifetime.

 For lack of anything better to focus on, he winds up looking down, examining his and Jim’s hands where they’re propped on Jim’s leg: Jim’s paler fingers twined through his, the angles of their knuckles, the familiar topography of veins and metacarpals standing out in the back of Jim’s hand, the glint of that damn creepy-ass ring.

 Christ, this is all so fucking weird. Only Jim could get them into a mess like this.

 By the look of the corn, it’s early fall here on Hearth. The temperature has dropped since the sun went down, a cool breeze whistling through the corn stalks and ruffling their hair, and the heat from the fire doesn’t quite reach the outermost ring of benches. Still, Leonard’s immediately on his guard when Jim sets his tankard down and gives a big, dramatic shiver. Sure, it’s a bit chilly, but Jim normally likes to pretend he’s immune to silly little things like ambient temperature, as evidenced by the countless cases of frostbite, chilblains, and hypothermia he’s presented with over the years. Suffice it to say, Leonard’s not falling for the delicate flower act.

 His skepticism is rewarded a moment later, when Jim finally releases his hand only to wrap that arm around his back, cuddling closer to him on the bench. He widens his eyes in response to Leonard’s arched brow, all innocence. “What? I’m cold. And my big, strong husband is right here to cozy up with. It’d be out of character if I didn’t take advantage of that.”

 Leonard nudges his elbow into Jim’s ribs, hoping it’s too dark for Jim or anyone else to see the color he can feel rising in his cheeks. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

 “I think I’m enjoying it the exact right amount,” Jim says breezily. He pokes Leonard in the chest. “You, on the other hand, need to lighten the fuck up. This isn’t really that bad, is it?”

 Leonard grunts, noncommittal.

 Jim scooches closer still, his hand creeping up Leonard’s back to rest on his shoulder. “On a scale of, I don’t know…Risa to mole people.”

 Leonard winces. “Would you stop bringing them up? Criminy.” Jim cackles to himself, and Leonard elbows him in the ribs again, a good deal more sharply this time. “And you know what, if it were up to me, I might pick them. At least they didn’t stare at us like we were some kind of sideshow act.”

 “Because they were blind. Now you’re just being difficult.” Jim rubs Leonard’s shoulder, his supposedly cold hand feeling very warm indeed through Leonard’s shirt. “Look, tomorrow we’ll get you in to see the kids, you’ll do your genius doctor thing and figure out what’s going on, and then I promise I’ll let you get back to terrorizing innocent ensigns who forget to come in for their BC injections. In the meantime, could you please just try to relax? Of course these guys are paying attention to us – it’s either that or watch the corn grow. Our visit is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened here in years. C’mon, loosen up a little. Have some fun with it.”

 Fun is a pretty far cry from the mood he’s in, what with the Kindreds’ beady eyes boring into them from all angles, Sulu smirking or making kissy faces every time he catches Leonard’s gaze – and that’s not even getting into the twisted, contradictory feelings he has about the quietly possessive weight of Jim’s hand on his shoulder, the way Jim’s been staking his husbandly claim all night with one casually familiar touch after another.

 Leonard’s not sure how to explain all that, though, and he’d probably just end up digging himself even deeper into this mess if he tried. Instead, he chooses the lesser evil of a slight concession, working his arm between them and sliding it around Jim’s waist, telling himself as he does so that it’s no big deal. It’s just Jim. He’s put an arm around Jim plenty of times before. No need to overthink it.

 Jim shifts agreeably into the hold, somehow managing to tuck himself even closer against Leonard’s side. “There we go,” he says with an infuriating touch of condescension. “Now was that so hard?”

 “You are without a doubt the most godawful obnoxious husband a man could have,” Leonard informs him.

 “Aww, Bones, you old romantic, you.” Jim cranes over and pecks Leonard’s cheek, which should not make Leonard’s fool heart flutter like it does. “Good thing you let me handle our grand origin story earlier, Romeo.”

 Leonard shakes his head in disbelief. “You are so full of it. I can’t believe they bought half the horseshit you were selling back there.”

 Jim shrugs. “Ah, everyone likes a good story. That’s just human nature. And it wasn’t all horseshit. I just…embellished some things.” His hand has migrated across Leonard’s shoulder to his neck, fiddling idly with the layers of his uniform collar. “After all, you know what they say: what is a lie but the truth in masquerade?”

 His tone is one of airy nonchalance, but it doesn’t land quite right. Leonard has known him too long and too well not to recognize when he’s only pretending not to give a shit.

 Leonard turns his head and finds Jim already looking at him, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. He’s sitting so close, intimately close, and Leonard wants to ask just exactly how much truth they’re talking, here, but he can’t quite bring himself to speak the words. This whole day has him so goddamn turned around; his heart is a snake nest of competing emotions, chaotic and confused, and he’s more unnerved by the fact that he’s not sure how Jim would answer that question than by any possible answer he could give.

 Jim doesn’t say anything either, just keeps looking at him with that cryptic little almost-smile. The light from the fire casts a flickering coppery-gold glow over the right side of his face, gilding his features, catching in his lashes. His eyes are gleaming, unreally bright, so heartstoppingly beautiful that Leonard wants to touch them, insanely, wants to capture that glittering fiery blue in his own hand like an opal and take it with him everywhere he goes.

 God, he wants all kinds of crazy, paradoxical things. He wants the pretty lie Jim told the Council earlier, that sweet and gentle romance, how easy it sounded, but even more than that he wants to go back to their first semester at the Academy, to the ugly reality of their cheerless library nest, just so he can grab hold of that loudmouthed, wounded, insecure stray and give him a fucking hug.

 He wants Jim to kiss him again, right here and now, pull him close in front of all these people and kiss him like he means it, like he was teasing at earlier, like he’s loved him from the start and he’ll give him anything he asks for, anything at all, and then he wants to take Jim to some dark quiet place and kiss him back, kiss him again and again until he can breathe past all this raw tangled-up ache inside him that he can’t put into words. He wants to hold Jim’s fire-gilded face in his hands and kiss the truth into his not-quite-smiling mouth and know that he gets it, he understands what Leonard’s trying to say even when Leonard himself doesn’t, because that’s how it works when you fall in love with your best friend.

 He wants all of that, and at the same time he wants to never leave this moment, sitting here together on this uncomfortable bench, Jim molded to his side with an arm curled around him and two fingers tucked into his shirt collar, watching him with fire in his eyes.

 “Brother James!”

 Jim turns toward the voice, plastering on an expression of ever-so-slightly tipsy good humor for the benefit for the woman who’s hailed him and for the rest of their audience. He’s on again, ready to launch back into the masquerade, but he doesn’t budge a millimeter from Leonard’s side, and somehow these past few minutes have flipped some kind of switch in Leonard’s brain which makes him find that comforting rather than disquieting.

 A whole gaggle of people are approaching them, a couple Councilors among them, and Leonard resigns himself to another long spell of chatter and scrutiny. There’s no use fighting it, so he just wraps his arm more securely around Jim’s waist and gives himself permission to enjoy the feel of Jim’s warm body fitting so naturally against him, the comfortable pressure of Jim’s thigh and hip and flank against his own.

 At the end of the day, what he really wants is Jim – the craziest, most paradoxical thing of all. If this as much of him as he can have right now, he’ll take it, and be damned thankful for it, too.

[Chapter 4]

[janeykath318]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Kirk x Reader

It all started as a joke: someone in the security department had done the Kiss, Marry, Kill, game with certain co workers and it had started to spread, even down to Medbay, where various nurses could be heard debating the merits of Scotty, Uhura, and even Chekov. The Captain ended up overhearing while he was getting patched up one day and you knew you were all doomed. 

"So, Nurse Y/L/N, how am I faring on the lists down here? Did I make it on a lot of people's Kiss list?" "I hate to break it to you, captain," you told him, mirth dancing in your eyes, "you're actually leading in the Kill category. Dr. McCoy in particular was very vocal in his choice." "Of course he would," Kirk sighed, rolling his far too pretty eyes. "I did think some of you liked me better than that." He made a sad puppy face that was next to impossible to resist, especially for you who secretly had it bad for him. "Maybe if you wouldn't be in here so much, we wouldn't be so sick of you, captain," you said mischievously. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know." "So, if I stayed perfectly healthy, you'd respect me more?" He asked, half teasingly. "Possibly," you hinted. "Maybe acting less like a child when you're getting hypos would help too. Just a tip." You winked at him and walked out to get the doctor, leaving Jim staring after you, torn between being insulted and in love. The next few days, the Kiss, Marry, Kill theme seemed to really spread over the ship. In fact, someone in the bridge crew announced there would be a contest for people to submit their Kiss, Marry, Kill choices, (among the single officers) along with written out reasons to be judged by Uhura and Sulu. Those with the best reasoning for their picks would get to have dinner with the officer of their dreams. You rolled your eyes and wondered just how desperate the Captain was to be liked. "No way am I doing this!" You declared. It's  utter childish nonsense!" "Oh, c'mon, Y/N, I thought you'd jump at the chance to go out with that corn-fed menace of a Captain you have a crush on," teased Dr. McCoy, hearing your rant. "Oh, puh-leeze," you snorted. "I don't have a crush on him. Just because I made one comment about his eyes once, does not mean I'm all lovey-dovey, lovestruck over him. Heck, even YOU admit he has gorgeous eyes, and you certainly have no romantic feelings for him." "Oh, there's a very big difference, Y/N. You haven't seen yourself when he comes in here. You're practically bowling over the other nurses to get to him." "I do not," you sulked. "Do I, Christine?" "Well......" she tried to hedge, and you put your hands on your hips, outraged at the lack of support. You pretended to utterly ignore the whole contest, but the endless chatter about Jim vs. Scotty vs. Leonard drove you up the wall, especially the guys in medical who talked about him like he was a piece of meat, ripe for the tasting. You hoped they were all horrible writers. Jim deserved better! At last, you got an idea. It would probably not win the contest, but it would make you feel better. You sat down after shift and started writing. Kiss, Marry, Kill, by Y/N Y/L/N Kiss: James T. Kirk Reason: 1. To shut him up when he drones on and on about the wonders of space 2. Those lips are too perfect 3. My gut tells me he's really good at it. Marry: James T. Kirk Reason: Because I worship the ground he walks on and he might be less of a reckless fool if he had a spouse to remind him how much he has to live for and how loved and needed he is.  I’d love to pick that genius brain. Also: captain's quarters come with real water showers, a big plus. Kill: (Hypothetically, of course) James T. Kirk Reason: He's a aggravation to the nth degree. Examples include: Frequent Injuries, extreme stubbornness, Those ridiculous stupid smiles he gives that could cause dangerous heart arrhythmia, his bluer than blue eyes that cause people to lose their concentration when he looks at them, and the terrible dad jokes he cracks that he thinks are so funny and laughs so hard at. Despite being pleased at managing to refrain from mentioning Jim's other positive attributes (that ass!), you wavered back and forth before you finally sent in your entry. You'd kind of bared your heart, after all. However, Sulu and Uhura were both very good at respecting people's privacy and they wouldn't spill your secrets. Besides, the chances of you winning were very low, if not impossible, given that you'd used the same name for every slot. At last, however, you hit send, and went to bed very relieved. You'd almost forgotten about the whole thing by the time the winners were announced three weeks later and when you got a message declaring "Congratulations, Lieutenant Y/L/N, you were selected as a winner in our shipwide contest. Your entry was chosen as the best among those who put Captain James T. Kirk in the Kiss or Marry options." You stopped reading right then and there and began mentally freaking out. You'd only entered as a joke and a fun way to relieve your feelings. Guess they'd taken you seriously. Could you back out without looking like an idiot? Surely, the runner up would be more than happy to take your place. During lunch the next day, the winners were announced over the intercom by Sulu. You didn't know where to look when your name was read and all your friends turned to stare at you. (Thankfully, McCoy had other things to worry about, since someone had won dinner with him.) "Congratulations, Y/N!" Christine said, a pleased grin on her face. "I'll gladly offer my services to help you get ready for your date with the Captain." Your face felt like it was burning up, more so when you saw Jim Kirk ambling over to your table. "Hi, Captain," you muttered, wishing you could sink through the floor. "Nurse Y/L/N! This is a happy coincidence!" Kirk exclaimed, walking up to you, with that disgustingly contagious smile on his face. "How so?" You managed, even more nervous in his presence. "I've been trying to get up the courage to ask you out anyway." "Me?!!" You squeaked. "Of course you. You do know you're my favorite nurse, right?" "No......" you said slowly, processing this information. Jim liked you? Really? Surely it was too good to be true! "Yes, you are," he said firmly. "So, Are you going to claim your prize?" There went that cheeky expression again. "Insufferable egoist," Len muttered, rolling his eyes. "Of course she is!" Christine said for you. "Name the date, place and time, and she'll be there." While you were spluttering, they determined the dinner would take place in the small observation deck the next Friday at 1900 hours. "Great!" Jim exclaimed, "We'll see you then! Have a nice day, Y/N." "Traitor!" You hissed weakly to Christine, but the butterflies of anticipation dancing in your gut said differently. "Trust me, you'll thank me later. I wouldn't have done this If I didn't think he really cares about you," she told you. She did come through on her promise to help you prepare for the big date, and before you knew it, you were all dolled up in a green dress and cute updo style Christine saw in a magazine and thought would look perfect on you. "There! You look stunning!" She said at last, stepping back and inspecting you carefully. You smiled and gulped. "Let's hope the Captain thinks so, too." "Oh, he will," she assured you. "Now, shoo, have a good time!" More nervous than you'd ever been, you made your way to the agreed upon room, where Jim was waiting for you. Having rarely seen him in anything besides his uniform or a hospital gown, you were taken aback by the sight of him in a blue dress shirt and tie. "Wow!" You breathed. He cleaned up GOOD. "Wow, yourself," Jim returned. "You look amazing." "Thanks," you said, face warm with the compliment. "This was really nice of you to play along, but What if Cupcake had won?" Jim laughed. "I'd still hang out with him, but He's only likely to put me on the Kill list. Trust me, I'm not his type AT ALL." As the two of you devoured the food, which was very tasty, he asked you about what you'd written. "I actually didn't think I'd be considered eligible," you told him, "given how I made cases for why I'd want to kiss, marry, AND kill you. Somehow, it was rather cathartic." "I seem to inspire that reaction a lot," Jim said ruefully, buttering a roll. "Glad you came, though. So, tell me, what's life like working in Bones's domain? I hear he can be a bear at times." "Oh, he can," you confirmed. "You just have to use common sense and know how to placate him. He's a good boss, but he doesn't suffer fools." "That's very true," Jim said. "He's said several times that next to Chapel, you're the best nurse on Alpha shift." "He said that?" You asked, flustered again. "Yes, he did," Jim said. "And I think you're pretty awesome too--both as a nurse and a person." "Wow, You really are a smooth talker," you said, raising an eyebrow. "Let's see if you're still saying that once you've got to know me and my quirks some more." "Does this mean you're willing to go on more dates?" He asked, looking hopeful. "As long as this one ends as well as it started, definitely." "What do you say to this?" He asked, pulling the cover off of a plate containing two lovely slices of chocolate cake with caramel filling peeking out. "Poke cake?" You gasped. The man had done his research--this was your absolute favorite indulgence. The white frosting on top covered the caramel glaze that oozed down through holes poked in the cake and made it deliciously gooey and decadent. "Indeed. Made special by real people: not replicators." Jim looked extremely pleased with himself, eyes darting back and forth between you and the cake. Picking up Jim's hand, you kissed it dramatically. "My hero!" You explained in a staged breathy sigh. "That'll do the trick all right. The shyness disappeared along with the cake and you and Jim ended up laughing and talking and flirting until a late hour. "So, see you again soon?" He asked, when he walked you to your door. "Of course. Hopefully NOT in sickbay, though." You poked him meaningfully in the chest, then leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Jim." "Goodnight, Y/N" he replied staring after you with what Christine would have called "heart eyes."

@whatif-animagineblog @yourtropegirl @kirkaholic123 @southernbellestatues

@kaitymccoy123

[thehumanarkle]

[NOTE: I had to make some changes to this post after I realized I screwed up and there were 9 episodes in the first half of the season. I goofed on account of only the first 8 being visible on the CBS Discovery page. All points made refer only to the first 8. To minimize the amount of editing I’d need to do, I’ll keep my thoughts on Episode 9 to myself for now.]

Okay, I have watched the first eight episodes of Star Trek Discovery, and I have some thoughts.

1: The pilot isn’t very good, but compared to other Trek pilots, it could’ve been worse. Overall, I’d place it about equal with “Caretaker,” but better than “Encounter At Farpoint” and “Broken Bow.” “The Emissary” and whichever one you count for TOS (”The Man Trap” for air date order, “Where No Man Has Gone Before” for production order) top the list. My biggest problem is that if the intent was to convey that Burnham’s bad choices in these two episodes (I count both as the pilot since they dropped the same day) was partly the result of her concussion and partly her years of suppressed human emotions bubbling up at the worst possible time, that should’ve been made clearer. I mean, if that was the intent. If so, I actually like the idea. Not the execution though.

Also, the title was wrong. I know some people have griped about the story Burnham tells where the title, “The Vulcan Hello,” comes from, but that itself actually does make sense. But to phrase it the way they did makes it sound, albeit unintentionally, that the Vulcans shoot first with everyone else, not just the Klingons.

2: I have mixed feelings about Rainn Wilson as Harry Mudd. Part of that has to do with the actor being somewhat problematic, but I’m not going to get into that. The other part is, while his performance was certainly enjoyable to watch, as a lifelong Trekkie I’m a bit uncomfortable with the idea of Harry friggin’ Mudd being kinda scary. I mean, even scarier than Capt. Lorca, who I am pretty sure is on the verge of a total breakdown thanks to his untreated PTSD. That said, his (Mudd’s) second episode is, so far anyway, my favorite of the season. Definitely one of the better uses of the Moebius Loop I’ve seen (though not as good as Stargate SG-1′s “Window of Opportunity”, but what can ya do?)

3: The new look of the Klingons sucks and I hate it.

4: I didn’t like it at first, but the design of the title ship has grown on me.

5: In Lt. Stamets, Anthony Rapp has somehow managed to give us a chracter that, IMO anyway, is somehow both more annoying AND more likable than his Rent character.

6: Feminist critiques of this show about WOC not named Michael getting killed off left and right? Valid. Here’s hoping they cut that shit out in Season 2.

7: I really wish the Fanboys would stop bitching about the spore drive. Yes, we know they don’t use it in TOS and beyond. But that doesn’t make it a plot hole; there’s still a whole half season to go, and I bet by the end of it we’ll get a reason why the drive was discontinued. I don’t know if it’ll be a good reason. I certainly hope it is. But it will be a reason. So calm the fuck down.

8: For those people ready to write the show off completely based on the 8 episodes we’ve had so far, let’s just take a look at where the other 5 live-action Trek shows at this point in their first seasons.

TOS: This almost isn’t fair considering it was this show’s iconic status that allowed the others to exist in the first place, but allowing for both the production technologies and social norms of the time, we’ve got 7 good episodes, and 1 episode that can’t really be judged fairly because a lot of the series rules weren’t in place yet; hell, they hadn’t even locked down Kirk’s middle name. Sulu was in a blue shirt. We had no McCoy, Scotty, or Uhura. Obviously, I’m talking about “Where No Man Has Gone Before” here. So, we’ll call that a success rate of 7/8. TNG: As a kid, I loved all of these, but with the benefit of hindsight, there are no good episodes here. The Ferengi were introduced, but it was Deep Space Nine that saved that Trek species from ending up just a regrettable footnote. “Where No One Has Gone Before” (not to be confused with the TOS pilot) has some pretty visuals going for it, but that’s pretty much it. 0/8. DS9: The only episode from DS9′s first 8 I would call bad is the Q episode, but even that is saved from garbage by virtue of Sisko punching Q in the face.  The Pilot’s the only good one of the bunch though, with the rest just being okay. So, we’ll go with 7/8, but with an asterisk. VOY: 2 mediocre episodes, plus 1 episode that introduced an interesting villain that the show sadly completely failed to utilize properly (the Vidiians). Neelix suffers a fair amount in that episode though so I’ll round up to Good. The rest were just plain bad though. 3/8. ENT: One of the first episodes gave us Jeffrey Combs as Shran. Granted, the episode itself wasn’t that great, but later on they were able to do more with Shran, and eventually give us a greater glimpse at Andorian culture, so I’ll be generous and give that one a good score. The rest of the episodes were just varying degrees of bad (with “Unexpected” crossing over into full-on offensive). 1/8. And that’s me being generous mind you. So how does DSC stack up, at least in my opinion? Well, apart from “The Vulcan Hello” and “Battle at the Binary Stars,” there hasn’t been an episode I’ve truly disliked, and even then I didn’t hate them. I was more disappointed than anything else. So, when you add up the episodes that were okay with those that I liked (so far only 3), you get a First 8 Episodes score of 4/8.

So, sorting by rank you get (remember, this ONLY applies to the first 8 episodes of the first season, not the series overall); TOS: 7/8 DS9: 7/8 DSC: 4/8 VOY: 3/8 ENT: 1/8 TNG: 0/8

9: Oh, I forgot to mention this; he can have his douchey moments, but overall, I like Saru. Though I imagine him being played by Doug Jones has a fair amount to do with it.

10: This scene didn’t bother me at all.

If they were going to do the F-bomb, at least it was in the context of an exclamation of excitement, and not something sexual or insulting.

In Conclusion: It’s not a great show. But it’s not the dumpster fire much of the Internet would have you believe it is. I think it can be a good show though and hopefully, CBS will take at least some of the feedback they’re getting from critics and fans into account. Not all though, because honestly some of the criticisms are bullshit.

All that said, CBS All Acces is terrible and this show should be on NetFlix seeing as NetFlix subscribers already helped pay for the series to begin with and it is flat out gross that people who already paid for this show once (by way of their NetFlix subscriptions) can’t actually view it (in the U.S. anyway) without paying again. THAT criticism of the show is not bullshit. It is one I 100% agree with.