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anonymousewrites · 4 months

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Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Thirteen

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Anger Growing

Summary: Spock and (Y/N) realize a strange entity is manipulating the anger between the Klingons and Enterprise crew, but the danger is only just beginning.

As (Y/N), Spock, and the rest of the crew watched the viewing screen as the Enterprise flew into space at breakneck speed. (Y/N)’s eyes only left the screen when their communications console beeped. They read the message, and they frowned.

“Captain, reports coming in from the lower decks. Emergency bulkheads have closed,” said (Y/N). The situation was getting stranger and worse. “Almost four hundred crewmen are trapped down there, sir.”

For a moment, anger swirled around Kirk, and then he turned around and stormed into the elevator. “Spock, get control of the ship. (L/N), get through to Starfleet Command. I’m going to have a talk with our saboteurs.” He disappeared into the elevator.

“I doubt that the Klingons are behind these occurrences,” said Spock, taking a seat at the command. “They have been confined for quite some time.”

“I agree,” said (Y/N). “But everyone seems to be jumping to conclusions.” A beep appeared on their console, and they clicked it on. “Bridge.”

“Bridge! Klingons are on the loose! They are armed and dangerous!” The urgent officer’s voice switched to a cry and the sound of metal hitting metal.

No phasers? thought (Y/N). “Understood.” They switched to the general radio. “Attention: Alert, armed Klingons are roaming the Enterprise. Be prepared for every eventuality.” They didn’t approve of violence for no reason, but if there was a battle starting, they knew the crew had to defend themselves.

The elevator doors slid open, and Kirk, panting, stepped through. He held a sword in his hand and passed it to Spock as he ran to his chair.

“The Klingons are free—armed as we are, they’ll try to take the ship,” he said urgently. (Y/N) and Spock exchanged a look and took a step closer without thinking while Kirk paged Scotty. “Scotty, how many men do we have?”

“392 trapped below deck,” said Scotty.

“Deploy forces to protect your section and the Auxiliary Control Center,” ordered Kirk. “Check the Armory and try and free those trapped crewmen.”

“The doors and bulkheads won’t budge,” said Scotty. “We’ll have to cut through.”

“Blow out the bulkheads if you have to, we need numbers!” urged Kirk.

(Y/N) furrowed their brow. Kirk was behaving more like a general than a Captain. Yes, they needed more people, but the aggression and the anger was very un-Kirk-like. Not to mention, he wasn’t questioning the appearance of swords onboard, and (Y/N) thought that should be addressed.

“What kind of luck have you had controlling the ship’s speed?” continued Kirk.

“No, sir,” said Scotty regretfully. “She’s a projectile at warp 9. And don’t ask me what’s holding her together.”

“Five minute reports, Scotty. Kirk out.” Kirk turned off the radio and turned to (Y/N) and Spock. “(L/N), check for alerts from the crew and for communication to Starfleet Command. Spock, I need a full sensor scan of the ship. Report on any movements by the Klingons.” He faced them both and held up a small dagger he also had with himself. “The Klingon Empire has long maintained a dueling tradition. They think they can beat us with swords.”

“Captain, neither our nor the Klingon technology can transform phasers into swords,” remarked (Y/N). “I doubt they are responsible.” As they spoke, they felt their phaser turn to a sword at their side. Whatever was happening was spreading.

Spock nodded in agreement and internally decided that although he always found (Y/N) attractive, there was something especially engaging about them being logical. Or, in plain terms, Spock found that (Y/N) being logical made him fall even deeper in love with them.

“Any other logical candidate?” said Kirk, the anger still radiating around him.

“No, but they are not a candidate, either,” said (Y/N).

Spock nodded. “I concur. If they had such power, would they not have used it to create more effective weapons and only for themselves?”

(Y/N) and Spock waited for a response, but Kirk just turned away to address Sulu. (Y/N) furrowed their brow. If Kirk wasn’t willing to listen to such basic logic, that didn’t spell out well for the situation.

“Mr. Sulu, get below,” said Kirk. “Take command of Emergency and Auxiliary Control.”

“Aye, sir,” said Sulu, leaving the Bridge.

“Captain!” said Chekov.

“Mr. Chekov,” replied Kirk.

“Captain…” Chekov held his sword tightly.

“As you were, Chekov,” said Kirk, and (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief. At least Kirk wasn’t letting Chekov, the angriest due to his brother (which was strange to learn about), run around. Chekov ignored him and darted up. “Chekov!”

“Sir! Let me go, too!” said Chekov. He held the sword in front of himself as Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N) eyed it warily. “I’ve got a personal score to settle with the Klingons.”

“This is no time for a vendetta. Maintain your post,” ordered Kirk.

“Captain!” urged Chekov, anger growing hotter, and (Y/N) stepped back.

“Chekov, maintain your post!” shouted Kirk.

“Don’t try to stop me, Captain,” warned Chekov. “I saw what they left of Piotr. I swore on his grave I would avenge his murder.” He backed into the elevator and escaped.

Sulu stared at where his friend had disappeared in surprise. “What’s Chekov’s grudge against the Klingons?”

“We didn’t know, but apparently he had a brother, Piotr, that was killed by them,” said (Y/N).

Sulu frowned. “Chekov never had a brother. He’s an only child.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. Now that was strange. Every bit of this situation was being manipulated by something. It couldn’t be the Klingons, and it wasn’t them. But something was causing all of this to happen. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They needed to keep an eye out. It seemed they and Spock were some of the only people left with logical minds.

“Sulu, get down to Engineering,” said Kirk.

“Aye, sir.” Sulu left.

Kirk pressed the communications button. “Security, this is the Captain. Find Mr. Chekov and bring him to the Bridge.”

“Why would Chekov believe he has a brother?” wondered Uhura, and (Y/N) nearly grinned. Of course they could rely on Uhura to keep her head more than the others.

“I don’t know,” said (Y/N). “But something is happening, and we need to figure out what it is. He wants revenge for a non-existent loss.” Their eyes swept over the Bridge. “He’s angry like the rest of you.”

“Angry?” remarked Spock.

“Not you, dear,” said (Y/N), patting his arm. “But, Captain, can you honestly say you’ve been making decisions not based in anger?”

“I…” Kirk frowned as if he was struggling to think. “I don’t know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. Whatever was affecting all of them was affecting their minds as well as the physical world. Fine, then. (Y/N) could play that game. If they figured out what was causing this, there was no one better than them to handle it.

“What are you thinking, T’hy’la?” murmured Spock.

“I’m thinking something is changing our minds and the Enterprise to make us angry, make us want to fight,” said (Y/N). “I have no proof, but this isn’t natural.”

“I agree,” said Spock. “You are the authority on the mind. What do you suggest?”

“Until I know what’s causing this and why, I don’t know how to fight it. However, you and I can try to keep everything from getting worse. We’re the only ones with our minds still,” said (Y/N).

“Understood,” said Spock. “If you sense anything, alert me.”

“I will,” said (Y/N).

“Scott here, sir,” said Scotty over the comms.

“Kirk here,” responded the Captain.

“There’s no use trying to free those men down below. The phaser torches, they won’t cut through the bulkheads or the doors or the decks,” said Scotty. “There’s something happened to the metal.”

Spock glanced at (Y/N). Yet another fact that confirmed that, although the others weren’t seeing it, something was affecting them all.

“What about the Armory?” asked Kirk.

“I’m there now, sir,” said Scotty. “And you never saw such a fine collection of antiques in your life.”

Kirk sighed. “Get back to Engineering. Try and reestablish engine control. And talk to Ordinance about manufacturing phaser replacements.”

“Aye, sir.” Scotty closed communications.

Kirk got up and walked over to (Y/N) and Spock’s work stations. “What in the blazes is going on?”

“(Y/N) suspects something is affecting our moods and the ship itself,” said Spock. “I am inclined to believe them, though we have little proof.”

Kirk frowned. “Why would something be making this mess? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Perhaps not, but there does seem to be some form of logic to what is going on. Scans show that our forces and those of the Klingons are exactly equal at thirty-eight each. That is quite a precise number,” said Spock. “The Klingons also control Deck 6 and starboard Deck 7 while we control all sections above.”

“We’re on equal footing,” said (Y/N).

“Ah.” Spock straightened from his scanner, and (Y/N) and Kirk looked at him. “I found have an anomaly. There appear to be more life-energy units aboard than can be accounted for by the presence of the Enterprise crew plus the Klingons. A considerable discrepancy.”

“So we do have something else here,” said (Y/N). They were right.

“We cannot be quite sure yet, but I shall attempt a compensatory reading to identify if this is a discrepancy or a correct reading,” said Spock. He fiddled with the controls and straightened again. “No, my original readings were correct. And (Y/N)’s theory now has proof. What we have aboard is an alien life force, a single entity. I cannot, however, ascertain a location.”

“An alien life force,” repeated Kirk. “We must make contact, find out what it wants.”

“Readings being diverted to the library computer for analysis,” said Spock.

The computer buzzed. “Alien life force on board is composed of pure energy. Type unknown. Actions indicate intelligence and purpose.”

“What purpose?” asked (Y/N).

“Insufficient data for further analysis,” reported the computer.

“Could it be the cause of the strange occurrences on board, such as the phasers changing into swords?” asked (Y/N).

“Insufficient data for further analysis,” reported the computer, and (Y/N) sighed in frustration.

“A nonexistent brother, a phantom colony, imaginary distress calls, the creation of these weapons…I believe you’ve found the pattern, (L/N),” said Kirk. He grimaced. “And now it has control of the Enterprise and is taking us out of the galaxy. But why?”

“Captain, I am constrained to point out that since minds are evidently being influenced, we cannot know at this moment whether our own memories are completely accurate and true,” said Spock.

“Then we have to make sure we don’t jump to any conclusions or assumptions,” said (Y/N).

Kirk nodded. “We must talk to Kang, bury the hatchet.”

“An appropriate choice of terms, Captain,” remarked Spock. (Y/N) chuckled. “However, it is notoriously difficult to arrange a truce with the Klingons once blood has been drawn.”

“A truce?” snapped a familiarly grouchy voice. Bones was on the Bridge. “Are you serious? I’ve got men in Sick Bay, some of them dying. Atrocities committed on their persons! And you talk about making peace with these fiends? If our backs were turned, they’d jump us in a minute. And you know what Klingons do with prisoners—slave labor, death planets, experiments!”

“Bones—”

Bones cut Kirk off. “While you’re talking, they’re planning attacks. This is a fight to the death! And we’d better start trying to win it.”

“We’d prefer to end it, Bones,” said (Y/N) firmly.

“By reason, preferably,” said Spock.

“There is an alien aboard that created this situation, engineered the fighting,” said (Y/N).

“Who cares what started it?” snapped Bones. “We’re in it! Those murderers…we should wipe out every one of them!”

“The alien is the real threat,” said Kirk firmly. Now that there was proof staring him in the face of it, the alien’s manipulations couldn’t affect him as strongly, and he had his priorities back. “That’s the enemy we need to wipe out.”

“Sick Bay calling, Doctor,” said Uhura, taking Bones’s attention. “There are more wounded men requiring your attention.

Bones took a final glare at (Y/N), Spock, and Kirk. “How many more men must die before you two begin to act like military men instead of fools?” He spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Kirk let out an exhausted breath when the bosun whistled. He wouldn’t get any rest until this mess was sorted out. He pressed the button to answer. “Kirk here.”

“This is Kang,” came the reply.

Kirk straightened, looked at (Y/N), and nodded. He knew what he needed to do. “Kang, there’s something important I must discuss with you.”

“I have captured your Engineering section, and now this ship’s power and life-support systems,” said Kang, ignoring Kirk’s statement.

(Y/N) tensed, and they, Kirk, and Spock exchanged glances.

“I have deprived all areas, except our own. You will die of suffocation in the icy cold of space,” sneered Kang. Communications cut off.

The Bridge crew looked at each other wildly, and (Y/N) touched Spock’s arm. The Enterprise was speeding out of the galaxy, the ship and its people were being influenced by an alien, and the Klingons had the crew’s lives in their hands.

(Y/N)’s hand slid to Spock’s and gripped it tightly. The situation was hitting rock bottom.

Kirk leapt into action. “Mr. Sulu.”

“Captain,” said Sulu, who had returned finally from the skirmish that had overtaken Engineering.

“Get down to Emergency Manual Control. Try to protect our life-support circuits and auxiliary power,” commanded Kirk.

“Aye, Captain,” said Sulu, leaving.

As he exited, Scotty walked onto the Bridge from the elevator.

“Scotty?” said Kirk, standing as he saw Scotty with a sword in his hand.

(Y/N) stepped back as a wave of red-hot anger flew around Scotty.

“Chekov was right, Captain!” cried Scotty.

“Scotty, I’m glad they found you,” said Kirk thankfully.

“We should have left those fuzz-faced goons in the transporter. That’s right where they belong!” declared Scotty fervently.

“Scotty,” said (Y/N), furrowing their brow in horror at his words. That wasn’t Scotty at all.

“Nonexistence!” cried Scotty. “Now they can study the Enterprise, add our technology to theirs, change the balance of power!” Kirk reached out to calm Scotty, and the Scotsman reared at him. “You’ve jeopardized the Federation!”

Spock reached out to either calm Scotty or knock him out, whichever was needed, but Scotty jumped back.

“Keep your Vulcan hands off me!” shouted Scotty.

“Scotty, we’re your friends, we’re not trying to hurt you,” said (Y/N), speaking calmly.

“Don’t use your abilities on me!” said Scotty.

(Y/N) blinked. “Scotty, I wouldn’t.”

“What are your feelings hurt? Yours, sure, but I doubt he has any ‘feelings,’ the green-blooded half-breed!” shouted Scotty.

“Scotty!” snapped (Y/N). They knew it was the alien affecting his quickness to anger, but it was still a horrible thing to say to Spock.

Spock’s gaze hardened imperceptibly. Only (Y/N) saw his emotionless expression had grown colder. “May I say that I have not thoroughly enjoyed serving with humans. I find their illogic and foolish emotions a constant irritant.”

“Then transfer out, freak,” sneered Scotty.

Spock took a step closer to Scotty, silent. Scotty raised his sword, and Spock grabbed his wrist and raised his other hand.

“Spock,” said (Y/N), pushing Scotty back and grabbing Spock’s wrist. For a moment, they let their emotions connect with his, and he blinked as he realized what had happened. “Don’t let the alien manipulate you, too. Scotty doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Behind them, Kirk pushed Scotty back and watched warily. Scotty had been shocked from Spock’s attack and gotten scared, driving the height of his anger away. From experience, they all knew Spock was stronger than them, so he was the threat if he were to lose control. Fortunately, (Y/N)’s words, logical and precise while laced with their love for Spock, cleared his mind.

“Yes, of course. Quite logical.” Spock put down his hands, and (Y/N) let go. “My apologies for the outburst.”

“What are we saying?” said Kirk, looking around at them all. “What are we doing to each other?”

“Fascinating. The alien’s power is increasing,” observed Spock. “It seems (Y/N) is the only one relatively unaffected since they are in touch with their emotions in a way we are not.” (Y/N) nodded in confirmation.

“And it’s left us and the Klingons as equal forces against each other.” Kirk’s eyes widened. “A war has been staged for us, complete with weapons and ideology and patriotic drumbeating. Even…race hatred.”

Spock nodded. “The alien seems to be set on a magnification of the basic hostilities between humans and Klingons. It is indeed by design that we fight.”

“It’s all being engineered,” said (Y/N), putting their hands on their hips. “We’re the alien’s pawns.”

“But what’s the game?” wondered Kirk.

“I have no idea, but we need to find the alien entity as soon as possible, figure out what it’s doing, and stop it from continuing to manipulate us,” said (Y/N), and Spock nodded in agreement, watching them with pure adoration as they acted on logic so perfectly.

“Without sensors?” cried Scotty. “All our power down? This thing could go anywhere!”

�� “Yes,” said Kirk, frowning. Then, his bosun whistled, and he answered instantly, worried that more things were going wrong.

“Captain,” said Sulu.

“Report,” said Kirk.

“No good, Captain. Circuits are in, but systems just aren’t responding,” said Sulu.

Nonetheless, the lights returned to the Bridge.

“We’re getting something,” said Kirk.

“Aye, Captain,” reported Sulu. “Power and life-support restored. Remotes on standby.”

“Good work,” said Kirk.

“But, Captain, I didn’t do it,” pointed out Sulu. “Everything just…came on by itself.”

The alien had turned it back on. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. It still needed them alive. It wanted its engineered battle to continue.

“Captain,” said Spock suddenly as his scanner went off. Kirk and (Y/N)’s heads turned to him. “Alien detected. In the Engineering section, near reactor number three.”

“Let’s go,” said Kirk.

Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N) picked up their swords. It was time to act instead of waiting around.

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hummingbird-of-light · 2 years

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Against All Odds

Part 105

McCoy

The blush on Robbie’s face and the twinkle of amusement in Scotty’s eye was worth any awkward things Leah might reveal to his new friends. He sat down next to Scotty after setting the PADD where they could all see.

McCoy rolled his eyes at Leah as he defended himself.

“Aye, he really is Leah. And… we all love him for being the person he is.”

There were nods all around from the others, but Leah had looked directly at her brother as she laughed lightly. McCoy could see color trying to creep up Scotty’s face and he felt his own face warming. McCoy swallowed behind his smile.

Inside his heart was racing. Leah continued on, asking Pavel something and the moment passed by without anyone noticing. Lord Leah was good at that.

McCoy glanced at Scotty next to him. The boy looked frozen in his thoughts. Scotty had said they all loved him. McCoy’s heart continued its wild beat. Did… did Scotty love him? He couldn’t possibly. It was much too soon for that. But he’d had the word cross his own mind once or twice. Could love happen so quickly?

“Your highness?” Jaylah was tapping his knee.

“What? Yes?” he asked coming out of his thoughts.

“I asked where Spock was,” Leah said from the screen.

“Oh,” McCoy said blankly. He looked around the room. “Uh, I don’t know. He’d been playing chess with Jim after dinner every night…”

“He has not been in here since Jim…” Jaylah trailed off.

An awkward silence fell over the group.

“Jim is the one you—”

“Yes. I told you about him,” McCoy answered quickly.

“Well, I hope everything works out for him,” Leah said. “I should probably let you all go back to what you were doing,” she said, easily changing the subject. McCoy could only hope to learn that. “It was lovely to meet you all. Please keep Lenny out of trouble.”

McCoy groaned. “Don’t call me that in front of people!”

“Come on Lenny, take me back somewhere private so you can tell me you love me,” Leah teased.

He rolled his eyes as he picked up the PADD. A chorus of goodbyes were called to Leah. McCoy stood and walked back to the couch where he had left his book.

“I’m not done little brother,” Leah said softly on the screen. “I want to talk to you and Scotty more. Can you go somewhere?”

McCoy nodded. “Hang on, and I’ll send him a message.”

He flipped through screens to pull up his messaging and sent a quick one off to Scotty.

“Ok,” he said, pulling Leah’s screen back up. He glanced across the room and saw Scotty checking his message.

“Tell me about your day, while you find somewhere quiet,” Leah said. “What happened that you sent that message?”

McCoy walked out of the lounge. He had asked Scotty to meet in five minutes in the garden behind the dining hall. As he walked he told Leah about the time in town with Scotty. How everyone stared wherever he went. He didn’t complain this time, but he knew Leah was listening to what he was saying behind his words.

“Where are you? It’s dark,” Leah said, when McCoy finally sat on a bench in the garden.

“Outside in a garden. It’s quiet and cool here.”

“Leonard… I asked you before…” Leah’s voice got soft. She studied him a moment before continuing. “Do you love him?”

Part 106

It was nice, chatting with the princess. She really was a friendly lass. And she was pretty gorgeous.

And she sure knew how to conversate properly with every single one of them. Somehow Scotty got the feeling that Leah was trying to gather everyone's attention on her so that none of their friends would notice the blush on Leonard's and Scotty's faces.

They were really bad at keeping it secret when they sat so close together. But... it felt so nice to be at each other's side.

They talked for what felt like forever and when Leah eventually said her goodbyes and Leonard left with the PADD, Scotty heard his brother breathe out a sigh he probably hadn't even noticed he held in.

"So... ye've finally met the lass of yer dreams. How are ye feeling?" Scotty taunted his little brother who looked embarrassed and offended.

"Ach, stop it! I... she's not the lass of my dreams! She... she is a bonnie lass but... she's high above me."

"Oh come on, Robbie. That shouldn't stop you," Pavel said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Pavel is right. If you like someone then it is not important where they come from or what they have," Jaylah added and Keenser nodded. But not without giving Scotty a meaningful glance.

Scotty looked over at Leonard before he looked back at his brother.

"They are right. Ye... should be free to like who ye want to."

Robbie tilted his head in confusion.

"Uhm, excuse me? Weren't ye the one who told me that I do nae stand a chance against the royal lads?"

Scotty remembered his words.

"Well... ye can still dream, can't ye?"

His PADD blinked and he looked down to see an incoming message from Leonard.

The prince wanted to meet outside in five minutes.

Scotty frowned. What did he want? Was something wrong? It worried him, yet still he answered that he'd be there.

He looked up to see Leonard leaving the room, still talking to his PADD. So they hadn't ended the call yet.

Maybe Leah wanted to talk? In private?

All kinds of thoughts filled his head. Worrisome and hopeful ones.

"Uhm, I'll be off to bed. It's been... a pretty long day."

Scotty yawned - it wasn't even completely acted - and got up after a few minutes had passed.

"But you'll help us tomorrow."

It wasn't a question but an order coming from Jaylah. Scotty laughed softly.

"Aye, I will."

He said his good night and got moving.

His feet carried him outside faster than he had meant them too. Of course he made sure that no one was following him, especially not Khan, but he arrived way too early.

He wanted to take the last turn when he suddenly heard Leah's voice.

("Do you love him?")

Scotty froze in his place. The question... Were they talking about... him?

He didn't mean to eavesdrop but his feet wouldn't let him carry on. He just stood there, his heart beating faster with every second of silence that followed Leah's words.

What would Leonard say? Scotty had accidently said something about love when the others were around. But... wasn't it exactly what he felt for the other boy? Didn't he... love him? Or was it too soon to say the word.

He had heard grown-ups say that it took time for these words to be said in a relationship. That... you didn't fall in love just like that.

But... what about love on first sight? Was it all... nonsense? Impossible? He didn't know.

'I... love ye, Leonard McCoy.'

#star trek #montgomery scott #leonard mccoy #scones #au #against all odds #leah mccoy #robbie scott #pavel chekov #jaylah

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vulcanistic-tendencies · 1 year

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S1E1 The Man Trap: "What Maketh a Man"

“I shouldn’t have gone down to that planet, Jim.”

Kirk looked up from McCoy’s mission report to the man himself, standing at stiff attention in the same spot as when he’d handed over the PADD five minutes ago. As odd as it was for his chief medical officer to personally deliver a report to him during both of their off hours, Kirk had not been inclined to comment on it. Not while the past day’s events were still so…fresh.

“You were just doing your job, Bones.”

“The hell I was,” snapped McCoy, but he sounded more tired than angry. “I may be the chief surgeon but I’m certainly not the only surgeon. I could have easily sent someone else. I just,” he hesitated, eyes darting away from Kirk and onto some spot on the wall next to him. “I wanted to see her again.”

Kirk put the PADD aside. “I know,” he said gently. “I knew that from the beginning.” He leaned back in his chair and waited patiently for McCoy to look at him again. After a few long seconds, he did. “Bones, I could have assigned another surgeon to this mission. But I didn’t - I asked you. And if I thought for a second that your being there was going to put anyone at risk, I wouldn’t have.”

McCoy flinched against his words, expression darkening. “Is that meant to make me feel better?” he hissed.

“No, it’s meant to…provide some perspective. Especially in matters of assigning fault.”

“Fault?” McCoy was getting animated now, which was good - that meant Kirk was getting through to him. He paced a few steps before advancing on Kirk’s desk, knuckles white as he gripped the edge and leaned in close. “I’d like to know exactly where you think any fault belongs, Captain, if not with me. She was here, on board the Enterprise - she was in my room, and I was too out of my damn fool head to be anything but happy about it. Even with every possible warning sign flashing in front of my face, I almost let her kill you. I almost let you die!”

“And if you’re waiting for me to discharge you for that, you’ll be waiting a long time!” Jim cut in sharply. “Sit down, Doctor.”

McCoy’s eyes widened and he straightened up, backing away a pace before stubbornly folding his arms in front of his chest. Kirk tilted his head toward the chair next to him. McCoy pointedly did not sit. Kirk sighed.

“Officially, the reports speak for themselves. Now I can’t say what the brass will think of all this, but I know what I think. If you hadn’t been there from the start, there is every chance that more lives would have been lost, mine included.” He retrieved another PADD and held it out to McCoy. “Mr. Spock’s account - thorough as always.”

McCoy took it with narrowed eyes, and began to read.

“He noted the same thing I did from our questioning of Crater,” said Kirk after a moment. “Namely, that the professor was of the opinion that this creature needed more from us than just salt.”

McCoy scoffed. “Please. The man was ‘round the bend, you can’t expect me to-”

“Then explain to me this, Bones,” Kirk cut him off again. “Why did she let him live? Hmm? She had access to their supply of salt tablets. They probably would have lasted her a lot longer if she didn’t have to share them, so why not just kill him right away? Why not, unless she was getting something else from his being there?”

McCoy stared at him, lips moving soundlessly for a few seconds. He dropped his gaze.

Kirk smiled sadly. “See, I think that’s what did him in, in the end. She didn’t need him anymore. She had you.”

“She…” McCoy swallowed. “It used me.”

“Yes,” Kirk agreed, accepting the PADD back from McCoy’s shaking hand. “Yes it did. In its bid for survival, it used your feelings for the real Nancy Crater against you, just as it did to the professor.” He leaned forward. “That’s not your fault, Bones. I can’t discipline a man for feeling any more than I can for breathing.”

“No,” murmured McCoy, “you discipline him based on his actions.”

Kirk nodded. “Point taken. But as far as I’m concerned, you’ve been through enough already.”

A long silence followed his words. McCoy looked…pained, but not particularly inclined to say anything more. Kirk picked up his discarded report and continued reading through it.

“You can think what you like, I can’t stop you,” he said after a while. “But personally, I don’t believe that the false Mrs. Crater had any intention of allowing us to complete her medical examination. And if anyone else but you had tried, I don’t think she would have had any problem dispatching the lot of us to keep her secret safe.” He signed off on the report and held it out.

McCoy took the PADD back with pursed lips. “You would have stopped her.”

Kirk smiled. “Perhaps. We’ll never know.” He gestured again toward the empty chair. “Now if you’re going to stay, will you please sit down? You look dead on your feet.”

There were a few seconds where it looked like McCoy was debating whether or not to take offense to that, but then he just let out an amused huff. “Yeah, I’d imagine I do.” He lowered himself into the chair with a small sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jim.”

“It’s alright Leonard,” said Jim. “Sometimes it is very hard indeed to do what we do. But I’d like to think that we’re all here because we believe in it, even knowing the risks. We believe that it’s worth it.”

His friend nodded tiredly. “Yeah. Let’s hope so.”

#op:ficpost #star trek tos #s1e1 the man trap #hell yeah first fic post!!!!#there isn't much to say about this one #I liked how the episode concluded just fine but I thought it might be interesting to explore some deeper closure for bones #and his dynamic with jim - as both close friends and colleagues in a direct command chain - is REALLY fun to try out #jim kirk #bones mccoy #star trek

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minithefutureawaits09 · 3 years

Text

I hope you people enjoy this. I shed a lot of few tears writing this. I know some may be like: oh it would be better without a happy ending. I thought that too trust me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Apologies for the shortness.

Pairing: Spirk

AU: TOS or AOS

Titled:

Five more minutes.

—————

“Jim please,”

Leonard looks at his friend who was laying on the bed. It’s been days since he’s seen any hope of the Jim he knew. It’s like a light has gone out in his eyes. He hasn't eaten or had something to drink properly in days and the only reason the man has anything in his system is that he’s practically had to shove it down his throat.

“F-Five more minutes, please, just- Just five more minutes?”

God McCoy’s heart twists as those words are said again. He knows that Jim isn’t ready, and quite frankly neither is he. M’Benga had offered to do this for him, but he had shaken his head and told him that he needed to do this. Although the hobgoblin argued all the time with him, he needed to be the one to do this. He owed Spock that much. All the times he had looked out and over for McCoy.

“Kiddo, we can’t keep putting this off. He’s not going to wake.”

“Five more minutes! Please, p-please just five more minutes!”

Jim’s sobs make him have to look away to keep from crying. His friend, the little brother he never got to have, was laying next to Spock’s body all hooked up to various machines keeping him alive. His face hidden in what he told him was Spock’s favorite sleeping robes.

“Five more minutes. Just, five more minutes alright? I’m serious this time.”

“Thank you, thank you. Thank y—you.”

He stands off to the side of the room, setting a timer. Hanging his head as he listens to Jim start rambling about things. His day, all of the bridge crew. Things that were all bearable until he started to beg Spock to wake up. Tears started down his cheeks. He looked over things, He had started to take care of the Vulcan’s final wishes- or at least the paperwork for them.

“Two minutes Jim.”

Jim just sobbed harder, at least for a few moments before he started to say his goodbyes, how much he loved him. How proud he was to know him, how proud he was of everything he had done. How lucky he was for 15 wonderful years. Leonard’s feet had brought him to the bedside he’s spent so much time at in the past 6+ months. He found himself telling the Vulcan things too, those sad eyes of his friend giving him a sad smile when they glanced back for a moment even though his lips never moved. The way they reminisce memories together of Spock. Right until the soft chime of the timer filled the air.

“N-No, No, Can’t I-”

“I’m sorry Jim.”

“No! Please! Please—!”

“I can’t, Kiddo.”

What caused McCoy to look up at Spock’s vitals he doesn’t know, but he steps closer. His friend’s sobs almost becoming background noise as something captures his attention. He shakes his head but..no it doesn’t go away. It only stops and starts to drift back down when Jim stopped talking.

“Jim- You- F-Five more minutes okay? You can have five more minutes- actually you can have ten more minutes.”

Jim seems confused because he apparently had started to move to get up, but the moment he tells him that he’s back to being glued to Spock’s side. Leonard’s hoping this is what he thinks it is. It started to climb again as Jim told a story. He needs to see if it will keep going up. If so there’s a very slim chance his idea will work even if it does.

Five minutes seem to pass like forever.

“Bones what are you looking for?”

“Don’t worry about me Jim, you keep talking to Spock alright?”

“A-Alright.”

McCoy preps the needle, walking over to the bed as he sets it down and grabs a cotton swab.

“Bones?”

“Keep talking kiddo. Tell him about the fake plant in our dorm at the Academy.”

Jim doesn’t argue, but actually laughs weakly at the memory. He then begins to tell Spock all about the fake plant he had let Bones water for weeks before telling him it was fake.

McCoy cleans the spot on Spock’s arm just at the number rolls over where it needed to be. He holds his breath as he presses the needle into his skin and pushes down on the plunger. Before removing it and placing a small bandage over it.

“How much time do I have left?”

“I gave you five more minutes because I lost track.”

That was a lie, he actually kept track but he needed to know if this would work. So he returned to his little corner, feeling like every second was an hour. Then came the deep inhale.

“S-Spock?”

Jim lifted his head. Leonard wondered if it was the bond they shared.

“What is it Jim?”

“I—I can fe-el the bond, it’s just barely tingling.”

Two minutes later..

A finger moves though the Vulcan’s husband didn’t see it Leonard did. Jim says he’s noticed more of the bond. His hopes are rising.

Then after little increments of Five, and many more times telling Jim those words he will never want to say again in his life.

“Five more minutes.”

The eyes although doped heavily up, opened for the first time in months.

The cry of pure and utter joy that left Jim as he cupped Spock’s cheek.

“B-Bones. Bone’s he’s awake!”

“I see— I see Jim.”

Thank god. Thank god he Knew how to wait,

Five more minutes.

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 3 years

Text

Two Ships Passing in the Night {8}

Part 8

Series Masterlist

Spock x fem!Reader, Bones x fem!Reader

AOS

Summary: Time for you and Leonard to face the music.

A/N: If you had any idea how many times I have rewritten this part to get somewhere I was happy with it. But now it’s here and I didn’t delete it this time. Thank you so much for your patience!!!!!

Warnings: Drugged Drinks, Make Out Session, I think that’s it.

Word Count: 2,009

Leonard woke up with a splitting headache. He groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers around his neck. He froze, these weren’t his covers, where the hell was he, this wasn’t his quarters. He recognized the setup of a Starfleet medbay, it wasn’t his medbay.

He sat up quickly and felt his head start to spin. “Mother fu…”

“Finish that and I will finish you.” Dr. Ambrose cut him off, walking in and glancing at his monitors. She glanced over at Leonard whose eyes were flitting nervously about the room. “She’s fine, I sent her to bed. Last thing I needed was her being moony eyed over you all night. If you have any idea how much time I spend making her get out of the Captain’s chair.”

Leonard groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “What happened?”

Ambrose chuckled, “Someone spiked your drink, you passed out. Captain and the Vulcan brought you back.”

Leonard let out a huff of air. So Spock had brought him in with you, where was he now? He tried to shake that thought from his mind. Ambrose glanced at him, he was broken from his thoughts by a dry chuckle from her.

“I will let her know you’re awake.” She said, walking into her office. Leonard could see her clicking the comms. He couldn’t hear your voice, what you said to Ambrose, who let out a laugh at something you said. His stomach twisted and he wasn’t sure if it was from the hangover or nerves, maybe a bit of both. He cursed himself for the amount of alcohol he consumed, dumb ass. His mind started creating scenarios for what was going to happen when you walked into the medbay. Maybe you’d throw him off the ship, you and Spock were getting married, you and Spock were going to single handedly repopulate New Vulcan. God, he wondered what he’d have to do to get Scotty to toss him into the warp core. His mind continued racing, then he heard soft footfalls and a golden silhouette appeared in the doorway.

Last night hadn’t been what you had expected, well, maybe with Spock, but not with Leonard. Spock had carried him back to your ship, it made sense, the Enterprise medical officer was unconscious, and you knew Ambrose was aboard, she despised shore leave. “Makes more sense for me to stay on the ship, someone always does something stupid and needs me here.” She grumbled, but you didn’t miss the novel she had tucked under her arm.

Spock placed him on a bed and Ambrose shuffled you, Spock, and Uhura away from the bed. Uhura’s eyes flicked between you and Spock, only stopping when he draped his arm over her shoulder. She gazed at you, a question very obvious in her eyes, you gave a small shake of your head. You hadn’t been close, but you respected her and you respected her relationship with Spock. If you were in her shoes, you would have been worried.

“I suppose we should head back to the Enterprise for the night.” Spock said, tilting his head towards the doorway. Uhura started out the door, Spock on her heels.

“Spock.” You murmured, he stopped and glanced back. “For the record, I don’t mind sharing with Uhura.”

The tiniest of smiles came across the Vulcan’s face, he nodded towards Leonard on the bed. “Talk to him.” He left the ship and you turned back to Leonard and Ambrose.

“Hell of a boy, you’ve got here.” Ambrose muttered over the sounds of machines beeping. “Aside from the amount of alcohol in his system and someone dosed him with a strong drug, he’s fine.”

You flinched, moving to Leonard’s side, your hand hovered over the rail of the bed before resting a few inches from his. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine, have a headache in the morning, no more than he deserves.” Ambrose answered, you didn’t miss the look she gave you over her glasses.

“I could stay, in case something changes.” You started.

“You and that little one are going to go sleep in your quarters. I’ll be damned if you put anymore stress on yourself and the baby. If anything happens with him I will make sure you’re down here.” Ambrose responded, shooing you out of the medbay. You knew there was no point in arguing with her, even though you were the captain, you weren’t going to fight with Ambrose. She and Leonard shared the same affinity for hypos, it made you wonder about what they were teaching in the Medical Corps.

You snuggled into your covers, your quarters quiet, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to sleep. You and Spock had started to heal the rift between you, together you were parents, that was all. That was all you needed from him. Tomorrow, tomorrow you would speak with Leonard. The tension from earlier faded from your shoulders and the weariness started to pull you into dreamland. You drifted off thinking about that southern drawl and the smell of peaches.

In the morning, Ambrose called and Leonard was awake. “He’s fine, headache, dehydration, what you’d expect from someone who partied too hard on shore leave.”

“I doubt he was partying.” You retorted.

Ambrose laughed, “Alright, I won’t say anything rude about lover boy.”

You got into uniform as fast as you could, which was not as fast as you would have liked, but adjusting to your new size just hadn’t clicked. Your mind was racing, what would you say, what would he say. Oh, god, he didn’t know what you had said to Spock, who knew what he thought. Your mind continued as you made your way to the medbay. Leonard was on his back, propped up to the sitting position with pillows and staring up at the ceiling. You stopped in your tracks when his head turned and those hazel eyes fixed on you. A small smile fell onto your lips, “Hey, darlin’.” You murmured, walking to his bedside. Ambrose was in her office, nose stuck in the novel that she had started once the ship had emptied.

He groaned and covered his face as you sat in the chair next to his bed. “I’m an ass.” He mumbled from beneath his arm.

“I mean, there’s a few adjectives we can add to that statement to make it more interesting.” You started. “Dumb, crazy, stupid, to name a few.”

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes meeting yours before traveling down to your bump. “Kid’s gotten big.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “Are you calling me fat, Leonard McCoy?”

Panic filled his eyes and reached out, his hand resting on your cheek, gently turning your gaze to his. “You’re just as beautiful as the day I met you.” Maybe some of last night’s liquid courage was still flowing through his veins. Maybe he was throwing all his cards on the table as a final Hail Mary. Regardless of the reason, the words were out of his mouth as soon as they were in his mind.

Warmth flooded your face, the sound of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. “In that seedy bar that Jim dragged us to every week?” His thumb brushed against your cheek before he removed his hand, you grabbed his wrist and leaned into his hand, tilting your head to put a gentle kiss into his palm.

“I would go to that bar everyday if it meant I’d get to spend even five minutes with you.” Leonard murmured, his heart racing in his chest. He wasn’t sure what you had said to Spock last night, what you both had decided, but he had to say his piece. He had to let you know, even if it closed the door between you for ever. “I’ve loved you since the day you walked into that bar.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered into his hand, pulling back and taking his hand in yours, your fingers locking together.

He chuckled, “Darlin’ you have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I got drunk off my ass last night, I’m sorry I never said anything before, I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sorry that I have to ask this. But I’ve got to know, where do we stand?”

You stared down at your joined hands, he loved you. You loved him, why was it so hard for you to say it out loud? Last night you and Spock had closed the book on your romantic story, and you knew that was right. In your mind, you knew that the man in the bed, he was the new page, the book that would never end. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and you looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry that it took me so long, to know that I love you.” You whispered, his eyes widened and a smile across his face. “If I’d have figured it out sooner, maybe things…”

“Don’t think like that.” Leonard interrupted, he pulled himself up to sit taller, he slid his legs over the side of the bed and shifted to the edge so his face was inches from yours. “Whatever has happened to get us here, it happened.” His free hand moved to rest on your stomach. “We’re here.”

You looked up at him, his hand still resting on your stomach, you slid your free hand to the back of his neck and pulled him towards you, your lips crashing into his. For a moment the galaxies stopped spinning, it was desperate, like you were afraid that pulling apart would cause you to wake up from this dream. You could still taste the stale whiskey on his tongue, but you didn’t care, his hand wrapped in your hair, deepening the kiss. You swore he was breathing you in like you were his last breath, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip and a small moan fell from your lips. Leonard gave a gentle peck to your lips then pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you.” He whispered, placing another quick kiss to your lips.

“About damn time.” A voice called from behind you, Leonard groaned and pulled away from you.

“Jim.” He greeted, the familiar surliness strong in his tone.

“Now Bones, I’d think that kiss would’ve at least knocked some of that attitude out of you.” Jim chuckled, coming up beside you. “Captain.” He greeted, giving you a nod and a wink.

“You know that’s just part of my charm.” Leonard responded, his fingers still locked with yours. “What are you doing here?”

Jim pulled a chair beside yours, chuckling as he sat down. “My medical officer was put in a medbay on a different ship, had to make sure he was okay. Especially since the captain of the ship was occupied with diplomatic relations when I tried to contact her.” Jim wiggled his eyebrows and your free hand shot out and swatted at his shoulder. “Hey! That is not very diplomatic of you!”

“Diplomatic my ass.” You grumbled, but there was no menace behind it, and Jim knew it.

“No wonder the Federation hasn’t been making any progress on diplomatic matters with you on the helm.” Jim jabbed.

“It’s a miracle the Federation has an exploration team with you at the helm.” Leonard grumbled, glaring at Jim.

“I have an amazing medical officer who keeps them all in one piece.” Jim retorted, a smile on his face. Leonard rolled his eyes. “Besides, had to say hi to the little one.” His attention turned to your stomach. “Gotta make sure he knows how good it is to be in command gold.” You chuckled as he reached out to your stomach, then glanced up, asking permission. You nodded. He smiled and rested his hand gently against the bump. “Command gold little buddy. It’s the best. Then you can be a captain like Uncle Jim and Mommy.”

“I’m partial to science blues.” Leonard murmured.

You met his eyes, “Seems I am too.”

Taglist:

@general-latino

@440mxs-wife

@cobe76

@elizabeththefandomgirl

@harry-potter-geek

#two ships passing in the night #spock x uhura #spock x reader #leonard x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard bones mccoy/reader #star trek imagine #2 ships

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garnetmantle · 3 years

Text

Title: After Omega, Star Trek TOS

by: green rose

@sicktember

Prompt #4 Headache

Notes: The TOS episode "Omega Glory" is literally one long recipe for a headache for Kirk. Spock was caught in the nimbus of a phaser set to kill in this episode.

Numbly, Jim tried to orient himself among the crush and chaos that was the excited Yangs. Spock. He was trying to keep an eye on Spock, who had admitted to being weak, which probably meant he was barely keeping his feet under him through some feat of Vulcan endurance. Jim’s vision was swimming a bit in the torch-flashing darkness, and he was so damn tired, but he eventually homed in on the red-shirted security guards, and found McCoy, very unhappy, at Spock’s side.

The doctor was not supporting Spock, but he clearly wanted to be. Spock stood at-ease, clearly rebuffing any such attempt. So McCoy was scanning the crowd, and when his eyes hit Jim he lunged forward and grabbed his arm, dragging him forward to stand the appropriate distance from Spock for a beam up. The sudden jerk brought the taste of bile up behind Jim’s teeth. Bones was glaring hard enough that it made Jim a little more dizzy to try to meet his eyes, so he stopped trying to and looked at Spock. Whose at-ease was wavering in its own wind.

“I suppose we can beam up now?” McCoy demanded.

Unperturbed, Spock spoke into his communicator in a steady but very quiet voice, “Three to beam up, Mr. Scott.”

Jim was moving the second the transporter let go, and caught Spock, who went at the knees the moment the transporter beam released him. Kirk had him before his body could hit the ground -- he’d known the usually-inconsequential disorientation of the transporter was going to get Spock, he’d just been able to tell. McCoy was swearing, and his scanner was humming.

So Jim had him under the elbows, crushed against his side, and he only had a moment to dislike how limp Spock had gone before the awful realization hit him that his own balance and coordination was not sufficient to maintain the two of them until the waiting medical team swimming into focus in the too-bright lights of the room could climb on the platform.

Kirk clenched his teeth and swallowed. He had been up for two straight days and nights, but he was not going to drop Spock, and he was not going to throw up in the middle of the transporter room. He was trying to get the nausea forced back enough to tell the corpsmen to hurry up and get Spock when McCoy took Spock’s other side and more than half his weight, and gestured his subordinates forward.

They relieved Jim of the Vulcan’s weight, which he needed, and of the contact, which left a gnawing worry behind it, and put Spock on the anti-grav stretcher they had waiting. One of them handed McCoy a small med-kit which he instantly opened. He read off the hypos, and administered them directly to his patient.

Clearly McCoy had called ahead. Why had Spock waited that long for him to beam up?

It was a little worrying that Spock had let himself be handled by strange corpsmen -- these were new crew, on board less than a month -- and put on the stretcher without complaint, silent and pale and submitting to McCoy’s attentions with none of their usual argument. Jim blew out a slow breath and closed his eyes, then breathed in a deep one as he raised his head and eventually reopened them. Reset. He trusted Bones, and Bones had said authoritatively that Spock would live. There was a lot left to do with—

“Doctor,” Spock had rallied enough to come up on his elbows and look at Kirk, his gaze assessing. He interrupted the doctor in a quiet but very firm voice. Definitely coherent. “You are aware that the Captain has had several trauma-induced periods of unconsciousness during this mission, but you are unaware of the most severe. To my certain knowledge, he has been unconscious due to two severe traumatic blows for a cumulative nine hours and eighteen minutes since our beam down.”

Spock wasn’t announcing it to the room, just to McCoy, but it was bad enough because Bones stopped dead and raised his head. “Captain, you are required in Sickbay in twenty minutes.”

A biting reply wanted to come out – he was too tired to be bossed about by his CMO exercising his prerogatives – but Jim made himself stop. The truth was, his head was a pulsing raw pain he’d been able to manage only by lifting above it – literally dissociating from his own body a bit to cope. He had blood coming out of one ear, his vision was getting worse, and as his adrenaline dropped he was starting to get his own crosswind himself. He was stubborn, and he had a thousand things to do, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Yes, Doctor.”

McCoy, following the stretcher out, stopped to double-blink at him, then looked him over again. “Do you need transport?”

“No, Doctor.” The guards and Scotty and the transporter chief were all listening to them, now, so Jim walked to the door. Oh, yeah. He was getting his own wind and McCoy noticed, of course, caught Jim’s arm to balance the wavering, and started to demand Kirk come with him right then.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, on one condition,” Jim said quietly as he followed McCoy out into the hall. “I know you have some kind of anti-emetic in there, you always do when you’re treating Spock for anything serious. Give me.”

“Yeah?” McCoy asked, trying to catch his eyes, no doubt to evaluate his pupils, but Kirk wasn’t having it. Not quite yet. The doctor's voice was on the gentle side, though, which was immediately soothing, and he opened his med-kit. ”Migraine?”

Jim wished he could say yes, but it wasn’t a good day for blatant lies. “No. Spock’s right. I got my bell rung twice, hard-“

“As opposed to the half-dozen times it was lightly rung?” the doctor asked sharply. “I’m not blind, you know-“

Speaking slowly, Jim continued, “But I’ll be all right for a few more minutes, and then you can do whatever you want.”

“You’re just afraid you’ll get sick all over the Bridge? I’d bet on the turbolift, that upward and lateral motion at once—“

Kirk felt sweat on his upper lip, and he swallowed, hard. McCoy looked a bit abashed and gave him the shot in the arm, and within a few seconds Jim’s stomach had returned to the normal position. He coughed a little and swallowed, then tried out a smile. “You’d be amazed how much that helps. I –“

“Will be in Sickbay in twenty minutes, Captain,” McCoy growled, snapped his med-kit closed and took off after his patient. Instinct urged Kirk to go after them, but duty sent him in the other direction.

It was like water dripping away. Onto him. Away from him. A little more impairment. A little less adrenaline. Jim Kirk put one foot in front of the other, and he smiled when he needed to, and he was able to think well enough to handle what had to be handled and know when something had to be put off for a more coherent day. The lights got brighter, though. Drip. And blurrier. Drip. And god it hurt to focus his eyes. Drip. He prepared a bare bones report for the Admiralty, because that couldn’t wait, and every sound got louder. Drip, drip. The world got foggier, and his energy to navigate through it was lessened.

He finally turned, then waited as the Bridge kept turning for a moment before settling down before his eyes. “Mr. Sulu. You have the conn,” he said, and headed for the turbolift. His crosswind was getting more stormfront than gentle breeze – he knew he was swaying on his feet, didn’t that count for something? “If I’m needed you can reach me in Sickbay. Mr. Spock is also in Sickbay. Unless he is needed to keep the galaxy or the ship from blowing up, please forget you can reach him there.”

“Aye, Captain,” came from several people, but then quietly, from Uhura alone, “Could one of us escort you to Sickbay, sir?”

Kirk forced himself to stop swaying, forced a smile to his lips. “No, but thank you, Lieutenant.”

The drop of the turbolift had him laying back against the wall, and his hands over his eyes were trying to push the pain back away. Water dripping everywhere, he was in a rainstorm and it was washing away the world and his energy and his ability to control himself. His head had reached the white-out level, the pain hitting places his consciousness wasn't willing to go with it. One last thing, though.

He walked into Sickbay to see Dr. M’Benga arguing with Dr. McCoy, gentle to his irritation. “You’ve been up for two days, Leonard. Either go to your quarters or go sleep in your office, but you are not fit for regular duty right now.” They’d both worked under worse conditions for crisis duty.

“Just give me a few more minutes, Geoff. I’m not being stubborn. I want a shower and my bed, but—there he is!” He turned from his fellow doctor to glare at Kirk.

“Twenty minutes does not mean forty-five, Captain, sir.”

Kirk made one of his ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’ dismissive gestures and closed his eyes in a brief headshake. “How is Spock?”

McCoy frowned at him as he moved toward him with a scanner in one hand and a tricorder in the other. “In a healing trance. He’ll be fine in a few days, Jim. We were able to treat the radiation poisoning and the rest he can handle himself.”

Jim’s head went down with a huff of a sigh, but he batted at McCoy’s arm when the doctor raised it with the scanner, and McCoy started to growl at him, but Jim made his little dismissive-gesture-closed-eyes-headshake thing he did again. He spoke very evenly. “No. Bones. I think I... could use that… transport now.”

He didn’t go at the knees, he just dropped, and it was all McCoy and a lunging M’Benga could do to keep his limp body from bouncing off the floor.

He got a bed beside Spock's for three days. McCoy's blood pressure was not very appreciative of their stay.

End

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klmeri · 3 years

Text

Imagine that this is the first year the Enterprise won’t be docked on Earth or at neighboring colony for the holiday season most widely held by the Federation. The newly implemented ship’s party planning committee is prepared to go all out with the celebrations in order to keep morale high. But some crewmen aren’t used to spending their holidays with others, and rather surprisingly, the head planner learns one of these people with subdued holiday cheer is none other than the man at the top of the pecking order, who just approved her five-page requisitions form for festivity supplies with barely a glance through the list, Cpt. James T. Kirk.

Captain Kirk had simply offered her a tiny smile, returned the data padd right back into her hands with a kindly “whatever makes the crew happiest” and transferred his attention to a sad-looking salad at the corner of his desk, his smile turning a bit fonder before disappearing entirely. “You’ll join us on the day?” she had asked then, her nervousness overridden by rising concern.

At least he confirmed that he would - a brief appearance, the man had muttered - the head planner thought as she left her captain behind in his office.

The rest of the committee seem as concerned when she tells them of the reaction she received despite the signed form and approval to proceed with the holiday activities schedule.

“Maybe he likes quiet,” one person suggests.

“Or it’s just the time of year. Some anniversaries are for mourning, not celebrating,” another points out.

“Whatever the reason,” she decides, “should he be alone?”

They look at each other, already aligned on that answer.

In the end, reserving the officers’ lounge serves as the most fitting second option for the crewmen like their captain who might not want to spend an entire evening feeling out of place among a cheery and boisterous crowd. But for Kirk especially, and for whom it is no hardship to support from the sidelines, the committee agrees, they put a little extra work into this Option B. After confirming with Kirk’s yeoman what is the most sensible approach, they issue special guest invitations to a private dinner to be held for Kirk and his two most-trusted senior officers. That the head planner happens to be on the bridge talking to Uhura when McCoy comes bustling in, flapping his invitation in Kirk’s face with all the joy of a little kid receiving a holiday gift early, is a boon. She shares with Uhura in a whisper, “We did that,” indicating McCoy’s wide grin and Kirk’s pleased look upon realizing the CMO will be his dinner companion the night of the primary holiday party.

Uhura whispers back, “And Mr. Spock?”

“He RSVPed in under a minute!” She has mused over that fact more than once. “As if getting an invitation was something he expected.”

Kirk and McCoy have moved as unit from the center of the bridge to that very officer’s Science Station, no doubt to inquire for themselves about Mr. Spock’s schedule on the night of the dinner. The Vulcan stands observing the pair, gently amused, as Kirk and McCoy debate rather boldly in front of him if a Vulcan would dare to consider it time well-spent in their company when there might be ship’s business to attend to or - gods forbid - a rockin’-and-rollin’ party (drawls McCoy) happening in the rec room next door that would offer more entertainment than someone as conservative as Mr. Spock might be able to handle.

Spock says calmly as their debate tapers off, “I would join you if that is your wish,” for it’s clear his opinion is these two men are all the entertainment he needs.

Kirk squeezes Spock’s forearm, and McCoy says conclusively like it was never a question at all, “Of course you will!” An air of satisfaction lingers for quite some time on the bridge after everyone returns to their posts.

What the committee (and so many others) had already known, even long before the concern arose, is a simple truth: Captain Kirk might think himself alone on the holidays but being alone is a choice, not a certainty, when he has his crew around him. Reminding their captain of the option for companionship is merely the right thing to do, and it’s no surprise to anyone that each and every time Jim Kirk chooses his friends over solitude.

#star trek aos #star trek tos #headcanon #triumvirate #mcspirk

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greenroseunderglass · 3 years

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To Your Hands : Fanfic - Star Trek TOS (Gen)

@sicktember2021

@sicktember

Prompt# 14 - Aches and Pains

Summary: Jim Kirk rescues himself from a hostage situation, of course, but he doesn't do it unscathed. His friends want to catch him even if he refuses to fall.

2 Parts: Bones and Spock

Bones

They had been taken after a pitched battle in the transporter-shielded Hall of Commerce, Kirk and five junior officers from security, and one aide from the Federation Ambassador's party. They had been held three nights and well into the fourth day before Kirk led their escape into an absolute deluge. There had been so much communications interference, natural and man-made, Spock never should have beamed them aboard, not from a planet of shapeshifters, but something had made him certain of their identities, and they'd avoided imminent capture for the familiar corridors of the Enterprise. With a thousand things to do, Kirk hadn't been the most cooperative patient until Bones had nearly shouted him down in front of the main ward in Sickbay. He'd gone with what grace he could still find after that. Kirk would have admitted only if asked twice that he did feel better once he let himself change into soft, dry sweats and the nurses put warm re-hydrating fluid into his arm. But then, it took Bones about seven seconds to be back over once that was set up, so he didn’t get to enjoy the simple pleasure of it for long. McCoy was a healer, though, a real doctor when he had a real patient. Once Kirk stopped resisting he slowed down, his grumbles softening, his voice finding a quieter, deeper register that radiated authority and safety in a way that affected even someone as familiar with him as Jim Kirk. The doctor went over Kirk with his big, warm hands after he stopped whirring at him with the scanner. He was careful, and thorough. Everything hurt, either when touched or when moved, but those hands left bruises and strains feeling not only cataloged but better somehow as McCoy passed gently over them. Kirk started yawning, though, as McCoy moved over him again, this time with a protoplaser. He made himself go up on his elbows as McCoy reached his shins, and that was the end of the idyll. “You just lie right back down there and go to sleep," McCoy snapped. "All the other hostages are in for a night of observation, and it won’t hurt you for once.” Kirk just yawned again and smiled at him to prompt a suspicious look, because getting Bones annoyed early over nothing in particular was always good tactics. “Oh, I plan on being asleep, soon. I do have some things that have to be done first, though. And-“ "You are not-" Without pause, Kirk repeated himself, enunciating over McCoy’s objection, “And. It will be done sooner if you cooperate. Send Rand and Johann in here, and Sumani. “ He stretched a little and squirmed. “And another couple of pillows, so I can recline in state.” “Back still bothering you?” McCoy asked, small whirring scanner immediately back in his hand. "You never let me spend enough time with the protoplaser when you have deep bruising like this. You must still be sore all over." “Yes," Kirk said dryly. "Every thing I own is bothering me, doctor.” He huffed a laugh, dismissing it. “I am tired, and I've been told sleeping on stone floors is not good for me. But unless you plan on running one of those things over every inch of me at every depth, I think I'll just have to sleep it off.” No, sleeping on cold stone floors was not good for him, McCoy thought, or good for his aching body. Neither was three nights in clammy damp, or an hour getting soaked through during their escape, or the slight fever Kirk was running from the cold he was definitely coming down with. McCoy huffed back at him, frustrated. He would be laughed at if he suggested Kirk spend some time in one of the hot spa baths, and that was really the only prescription he had at the moment, for all his training. He couldn't give any of the hostages much in the way of pharmaceutical pain relief, not after their captors had drugged them so extensively. And Kirk was right, damnit -- he would end up resting more quickly if McCoy let him work unhindered for a little while. The doctor stiffly left the room, but he did grudgingly call the Captain’s yeoman and left her to manage the rest of it. He forbid her from giving Kirk the fresh uniform she turned up

with, but decided to look the other way on the coffee. It took less than an hour after that for Kirk to fight himself free, of the fires in his command and the solicitude of the nurses. He had a lot on his plate in about ten hours, but being involved with a planet with deeply held taboos about actions taken in the night hours, and sitting in geosynchronous orbit above its capital, had its advantages. Caught up and feeling human again, Kirk leaned against McCoy’s office door to wave his way out, but McCoy peremptorily pointed at a seat while finishing a consult with M’Benga. Finally McCoy sat behind his desk and pulled a bottle and two glasses from the cabinet behind him. Kirk took the rich brown liquid he was being offered and breathed deeply over his first sip, settling gingerly back in the hard chair. “Oh, that’s good,” he said, then set it neatly back on the desk to turn his head and sneeze lightly, twice, into the crook of his arm. McCoy tch’ed at him and tossed him a box of sickbay ‘tissues’. “I should have made you a hot toddie, if you’re going to start that. I should put you back on the biobed. ” Jim gave another of his wry, dismissive laughs at that, but his voice was probably more serious than he meant it to be. "You can't confine me for the common cold, Bones, and you can't treat it anyway." "Can't cure it. You've already had a shot to make sure you're not contagious, and one to shorten the duration. There's another one that will help stop inflammation in your sinuses and your chest, but that one makes you sleepy, so you only get that when you're actually leaving." "Which is at the bottom of this glass," Kirk told him. "And yes, I'm actually going to bed." He hesitated, and looked into his drink before taking another sip, then, "They are all going to be all right, Bones?" "Yes," McCoy said simply. "The ambassador's aide--" Kirk held up a finger and raised his voice slightly. "Ambassador Goddard, join us, please." The man had been loitering in the corridor, half eavesdropping and half nervous about disturbing them. He was there for an update on his aide, who was doing well physically but would probably need some trauma counseling. After earlier arguing on the Bridge that the Captain's party not be beamed aboard, citing security risks, Goddard did not feel he should linger around any of the officers at the moment. He drank off his whiskey like a good diplomat and was leaving as quickly as he'd come, but paused to watch when the Captain started to stand also and was pinned back into his chair by a vigorously pointed finger. "You, you wait until called for." Kirk wobbled his head in apparent amusement and eased back down. He saw Goddard watching him and grinned. "Never cross a CMO during a multiple casualty event, ambassador. Rule number three of Captaining a starship." Goddard was a beat slow, but training kicked in and he obligingly asked what the first two rules were. He couldn't believe how lightly Kirk seemed to be taking the whole situation, even his own abduction. He couldn't imagine how to talk to the man about his legitimate concerns, but agreed to join a debriefing at 0800. Kirk was 'called for' minutes later by the formidable First Officer, which made Goddard wish he hadn't dawdled. Spock arrived just as Kirk was saying something about his aide's fortitude during the escape, and Spock apparently took that to mean the ambassador was grilling Kirk. "Surely, gentleman, there is nothing about the hostages' escape or confinement that can't wait until the 0800 debriefing." His voice was even, his face was mild, and Goddard felt a wall of solid dislike hit him like a burst of steam. Vulcans were only touch-telepaths, that couldn't be a real energy he was feeling, but he exercised the better part of valor, made his goodnights, and fled anyway. He caught a glimpse of Kirk glancing after him with a look of surprise as he went. "What did he do?" Kirk asked, sliding to the edge of the chair in preparation to stand as McCoy returned and went to get the hypo on his desk. "I cannot imagine what you

mean, Captain," Spock said evenly, then offered his arm to help Kirk up. He didn't need the help -- he was sore and achy, not impaired -- but he bit down on his pride and accepted it, just to get himself on his feet. Spock needed to feel like he was doing something, too, however small the gestures. McCoy glared at them both and gave Jim the shot in the shoulder. "That's going to be a little sore, sorry, but it'll keep your cold from becoming a misery. Now you just have to get him to bed before he starts tipping over," he addressed Spock. Anger flashed and was forcibly cooled in Kirk's mind. On a normal day the two of them thought he needed a keeper, but this wasn't a normal day, and he had no right to the familiar annoyance. He'd been lost to them for almost ninety hours this time. As his friends, they had a right to manage him a little. He'd keep allowing it. Tonight.

Spock

As he and Spock walked down the corridor, Spock still in possession of his arm, Kirk began to be glad he'd been so high-minded about the whole thing, because he was definitely beginning to sway. In the turbolift he said, "McCoy wasn't kidding about that shot," just as he sneezed and his knees tried to give. Spock moved to catch him more firmly, but Kirk waved him off. "I'm all right. I only have to get to my quarters." His cabin was cozy with two in it, if luxurious for a Starship – he patted Spock away by catching hold of the screen divider and clinging. “Shower first, then bed. Despite McCoy’s solicitous comments, I will actually be all right from here.” He smiled and waved Spock back toward the door. Spock gave ground, but only to the other side of the desk. His expression was determined, yes, but mostly… unimpressed. Kirk surmised he must look about like he felt. Spock could always see through him, anyway. Before he could even plead his case, Spock said calmly, “I am aware that the only active attack on your health at the moment is from a simple cold, which is not a serious affliction. However, the depth of your exhaustion makes any further impairment concerning, and I will not feel I have complied with the Doctor’s orders until I have seen you to proper rest.” Kirk gave him a bit of a side-eye. “You’re going to stay here until I fall asleep, whether I like it or not?” “Might I suggest you allow my assistance in certain matters, strictly for the sake of expediency?” God, he was so, damn, tired. And he had spent three nights as a captive, the better part of four days slightly ill and soundly beaten and responsible for crew and civilian lives despite his helplessness to secure even his own. He had managed to get them all to safety, but he was. He was so tired, and there was a gentleness waiting in Spock’s hands if he would just give in, the expression of feelings his Vulcan friend could never express any other way. And he trusted Spock, didn't he? Spock could take the watch, he could take the burden, for a little while. When his knees wobbled this time Spock caught him and carefully peeled him off the divider to sit him on his bed. A quick hand ran through the hair of his bowed head, a gesture they would both deny. Spock helped him out of everything he could get off while sitting, then went to make sure the water shower was a good temperature. Kirk got a look when he toddled into the bathroom unassisted and naked, but Spock merely reeled him in with one long arm and made sure he was steady in the shower before turning his back to give him privacy. Kirk woke up enough to realize he really was out of it enough to be worrying the Vulcan, and regretted it. No words could fix the situation, either. Spock didn't need reassurances. He just needed to see Jim cared for and at rest. He turned his face up into the hot water and groaned with pleasure. That didn't sound like such a bad idea at the moment, at that. He washed quickly but let himself soak slowly. The steam-filled stall and hot water pouring over him reached into him, soaking out the cold of the day and easing the bone-deep ache from the creeping chill of three days in the cellars. When he shut off the spigot he still felt exhausted, he still felt slightly sick, he still ached all over, but it didn’t feel like it could take him to the floor, now, none of it. His muscles felt looser and his joints less stiff -- maybe he could actually sleep. He set the cubicle to hot air cycle, which was almost as nice as the hot water had been, as targeted forced air wicked the water from skin and hair, until some inner threshold was quite suddenly crossed and he found himself caught in a flash of over-heated ill-feeling and sudden dizziness. He shut off the dryer and cracked the door. Thankfully, the relatively cool air in the small bathroom cleared his head again. The patiently-waiting blue-clad back finally turned to offer him a towel and a promise of steadiness if he couldn’t find it himself. Kirk smiled a little, appreciative and too tired not to be warm about it,

gave his hair one last good towel and went to find sleep pants and a shirt, and an over-shirt. He made it to the over-shirt before sleepy dizziness sent him to sit on the side of his bed with the warm garment in his lap. He took a long breath, curled in on himself and shuddered, once. He let his eyes stay closed for a moment, just a moment, to clear his head and steady his breath, before straightening out very slowly. For Captain Kirk, this level of pain was a blessed relief. For exhausted, depleted, off-guard Jim who just wanted desperately to sleep it was almost more than he could handle. “Captain,” Spock said very quietly from right behind him. A gentle hand touched between his shoulders. "Jim. Allow me to help you, so you may rest.” He put his hands on Kirk’s shoulders and dug carefully into muscle with his long fingers, thumbs tracing downward in mirror arcs. “Let me help.” Spock was capable of spectacularly effective back-rubs, the kind of shock-and-awe attacks that annihilated knot after knot efficiently and then gentled it just enough before moving on. That was not what he was offering now. No painful return to function. This was an offer for comfort. Kirk’s head immediately dropped forward in pure animal desire for release from pain. “You’re needed –“ the protest was less than half-hearted. “I’ll be contacted if I’m needed, Captain. We’re in a unique position, with the Ariz’ strict adherence to daylight-only activity. We have a minimum of ten point two hours before we may expect movement from those in the capital.” Just the tips of Spock’s fingers dug in all across his back, and Kirk arched his back and tried to remember what he was saying. He mostly wanted to groan, already.

Kirk closed his eyes and gave himself up to the shoulder rub, at least, almost falling asleep within perhaps a minute before he woke himself with a light sneeze and decided to give in completely. He shifted, and Spock did most of the work in pulling back the covers and settling Jim full length on his front, hugging a pillow. Jim murmured something he knew would have embarrassed them both if they'd been face to face, but he was utterly giving his body into Spock’s hands now. God, so much strength in those hands, to be so careful with him. Jim had been trying not to be too vocal in his appreciation but he couldn’t repress a long, quiet noise as something at the base of his neck - that had been tied directly into a pounding in his temple for the last two days - let go all at once. The momentary pinch of pain in the muscle was skillfully rubbed out. He was drifting toward sleep, and closing his eyes again seemed like the natural next step. Spock had him, and the ship, and he could sleep for awhile. The occasional sharp kneading ceased. Now Spock was applying just enough pressure to keep him wanting to groan, all over him in turns, and Kirk could feel pain he’d become so accustomed to he barely noticed it rise into consciousness just long enough to be soothed away. Oh, Spock was good at this. Finally, the long-fingered hands came to rest on his near forearm, just above his hand. Spock pushed Kirk's hair back from his face and asked quietly, "Are you awake enough to eat something off your meal card? The doctor did say you should take nourishment. Then you can rest." He found one of the tissues in time to sneeze into it as he rallied on autopilot, “I refuse to accept chicken noodle soup as a prescription.” Spock ran a hand through his hair again as he stood up, plausible deniability in that it made it easier to see his face, then folded his hands behind himself and looked down on Kirk, who made some effort to look awake. He couldn’t seem to care enough to succeed under Spock's carefully stoic expression -- Jim could feel the warmth and fondness radiating out of it, in the little quirk at the corner of Spock’s lips and in the soft brown of his eyes. "Yes, Captain. Something warming, though," he hmm'd. "You've done enough for tonight, Spock." Kirk smiled at him, warm, god, how could cool Vulcan skin have gifted him with such a sense of positive warmth? "I can synthesize my own cup of soup. If I can move at all." Kirk smiled and gave a low groan as he stretched himself to feet on the floor and himself more or less sitting up. "Captain --" Spock demurred. "The doctor did insist on this." So he let Spock synthesize him a cup of soup without too much grumbling -- Vulcan aureg, thank you, not chicken noodle. And Spock did more or less end up putting Jim to bed, when he couldn't seem to coordinate his limbs anymore -- exhaustion, release of stress, sleep deprivation, ha! Jim was blaming it on McCoy's injection. The lights dimmed and he could feel Spock sitting on the side of the bed. After a moment he felt a cool hand pass through his hair again, rest for a moment at the nape of his neck, then Spock rose quietly from the bed and walked away. The moment after that, Jim was asleep. End

#sicktember2021 #sicktember #Aches and Pains #Star Trek #Fanfiction

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

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I’m Always Curious Part Nine

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Synathehol is a TNG thing I think, so. On Earth in this story they drink alcohol, thank you. I hope everyone is well :) Thank you to everyone that’s read/liked/reblogged/replied! I really appreciate it! Summary: I’d become too engrossed in an argument with Spock (albeit a friendly one) on the effects (and logic) of using time travel to go back and change certain events. My idea was, if two totally separate events weren’t known to have any impact on one another, what would it matter which order you visited them in?

Shock of all shocks, I didn’t sleep well. “What are you listening to?” Thira asked as I pulled my headphones out. “Oh, it’s...” I floundered before waving her off, “Don’t worry about it, I can only understand, like, some of it.” “What are you up to?” “I’ve got a lecture in--” I glanced at the time, “Like an hour, so I have got to run.” “Are you coming to Liquara tonight?” Thira asked, watching me gather my things. “Ah... I think so?” I glanced back at her as I packed my PADD into my bag. “You can take one night off,” Thira said, “Loosen up, have a couple of drinks...Maybe meet somebody?” She waggled her brows at me, and I laughed, unable to help it. “I don’t think that’ll be happening,” I said, pulling bag onto my shoulder. “Come on, when was the last time you dated?” Thira asked, folding her legs up under herself. “I don’t know, my last year of the Academy?” I shrugged. “...Yikes,” Thira muttered. “Thank you for that-- I’m leaving now!” I tacked on before hurrying out of our room. -- I did manage to make it to my Dominionese lecture on time, with a very large coffee (loaded with extra espresso and additional caramel drizzle). I got to the lecture hall just on time and took the only available seat left - right next to Captain Pike. I couldn’t help my stiff posture as I sat down, taking out my PADD and putting on the virtual display sensory headset that was left out for me. As the instructor began to lay out what we’d be working on, I felt Pike lean over, his bicep pressing against mine as he murmured, “Late night?”

I hummed the affirmative, picking up my coffee and taking a sip as if to prove it. I heard Pike chuckle beside me, and I fought the urge to turn my head, see the waiting smile. I kept my eyes on the instructor, then on the Dominionese that appeared on the headset. I could still feel Pike’s arm pressed to mine; that didn’t matter, right? I could focus on something other than contact. I zoned in on the text on the headset, letting my fingers move over my PADD as I worked through the first few rows of translations. Now and again, the instructor would interrupt us, calling on students to read their translations aloud, correcting for grammar and syntax. Pike and I escaped the questioning; I’d found that unless the workshops or classes were geared specifically toward alumni, instructors tended to leave visiting students alone. Pike didn’t lean over to chat anymore throughout the rest of the class, which was a relief, but he didn’t lean away, either. He was close throughout, arm still resting against mine, thighs occasionally brushing, or our feet would knock against one another under the desk. Every single time I’d tell myself that if this was Una, or Thira, it wouldn’t be making my heart jump the way it was. If this was Spock-- Actually, no. Spock would keep his limbs to himself.

Nevertheless, class passed without incident. I removed the headset as it ended, closing my eye for a moment to help it readjust. “Well, that was informative,” Pike piped up. I glanced over at him, nodding, and was more than a little relieved to find him focused on packing away his things. I turned back down to my PADD, saving the notes I’d taken as I saw Pike’s head turn back to me, presumably as a result of my lack of verbal response. “You heading back to the ship?” He prompted. “Ah-- No. There’s a language panel on Iconian in...” I glanced at the time on my PADD, “Like ten minutes, so, I’m just gonna hang out here.” "Packed morning,” Pike commented, brows raised. I shrugged. “I just--” “Like to keep busy?” Pike finished knowingly, smiling. I returned the smile in spite of myself, nodding. “Exactly,” I confirmed. “Well, try to get some rest some time this week, lieutenant,” the Captain said, standing and patting me on the shoulder as he passed me. I returned my eyes to my PADD, unthinkingly answering, “Yeah, you, too.” I heard Pike’s steps falter, but I didn’t raise my eyes to meet what I was sure was a questioning gaze. I just reopened my Dominionese and reviewed my answers until I was sure he was gone. -- I did not want to go out. After the last 24 hours I’d had, I just wanted to take an extra long, extra hot shower and curl up in bed with my PADD and a bottle Risian wine. But I also knew that if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Thira -- and possibly from Una. I got to Liquara a little while after everyone else (the panel on Iconian had run long and delayed my getting back to the ship; I’d taken longer to get ready because I’d had to re-talk myself into going every five minutes). “You’re alive?” Thira teased as I settled into a seat beside hers and across from Una. There were a few others at the table - Spock, Nhan, and Connolly, as well as a few people from engineering that I vaguely recognized. “I was just telling everyone how you had your headphones on this morning and you were listening to something that sounded so harsh, but kinda...Lyrical. What was that?” Thira asked. The surrounding party looked at me expectantly and I answered, “Klingon poetry.” “I wasn’t aware there as an intensive on Klingon poetry this week,” Una commented, brow raised. “This was more of an independent study situation,” I admitted. “Is there anything in particular that sparked your sudden interest in such a topic?” Spock asked. I shrugged, reaching for a menu and skimming it in favor of meeting anyone’s eye. “Just had the urge, I guess,” I excused before looking around, “I haven’t been here in a while, so, someone refresh my memory: are the slush-o mixes worth the hangover?” -- I stayed out later than I had anticipated. I didn’t partake in many sugary alcoholic drinks on the Enterprise, so it didn’t take long for a decent buzz to kick in. People peeled off as the night wore on, until it was down to myself, Thira, Una, Spock, and Connolly -- practically the ready room crowd.

I should not have stayed out, though. I should’ve had one drink and then ducked out gracefully. But I’d become too engrossed in an argument with Spock (albeit a friendly one) on the effects (and logic) of using time travel to go back and change certain events. My idea was, if two totally separate events weren’t known to have any impact on one another, what would it matter which order you visited them in? “My point is, if I chose first to go back and stop T.S. Eliot from writing Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats and then subsequently traveled forward in time and stopped Oppenheimer from designing the atomic bomb--” “Why would you choose to halt the writing of a book rather than the creation of a catastrophic weapon?” Spock asked. “Okay, two reasons: One - It is a time machine, Spock, I’d have literally nothing but time. Two-- No, actually, three reasons-- two, that book came out in 1939, the Manhattan Project didn’t start until 1942, so I think it is safe to say that despite its historical significance to mankind, I would not be doing the world a disservice by visiting those events in chronological order.” “And the third reason?” Una asked. "The movie CATS was the first step to the subsequent tanking of Universal Studios in the 22nd century, so that’s my first priority if I ever get a personal time machine,” I said simply. His laugh joined in with the others-- my ear caught on that sound, the way it had the night before. My eyes darted to the other end of the table, and I felt my smile falter a little. I had been so engrossed in my conversation with Spock that I hadn’t even noticed the Captain settled on the other side of Connolly. Pike’s eyes met mine as the laughter settled, and I gave him a quick smile before averting my eyes. I could feel Una looking at me, and when I raised my eyes to hers, I found her brow quirked. She peered around Connolly at the Captain. “What kept you?” She asked. “I was speaking with Admiral Cornwall about our next mission. Nothing for us to discuss tonight. How was the lecture?” He asked. When silenced followed the question, I realized it had been directed at me. I met Pike’s eye again. “Informative.” I left it there, picking up the menu again and looking it over. Part of me already know I was going to be switching to water, though. -- I remembered why I’d liked being called to the ready room so much at the beginning - when there were so many of us, before I was better acquainted with the Captain, it was easier for me to hang back; I didn’t feel as pressured to speak up. And at Liquara, with Una, Thira, and Connolly there to steer the conversation, and Spock to interject (heavily), I didn’t feel that the conversation lagged anywhere. And I was being good - keeping my eyes to myself, only looking at the Captain when he was speaking; smiling and laughing an appropriate amount, and definitely, definitely not thinking about that sigh of his name and the giggle I’d heard the night before. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving.” Thira had managed to catch what I had assumed was a subtle shrugging on of my jacket, but what to her was apparently a beacon of retreat. I gave her a small, regretful smile. “I just realized how late it is.” “You’re not going to the long-range sensor lab again, are you?” Spock asked, watching me. Unbeknownst to me, he’d been there himself the night before, and had actually left shortly before I had. I laughed a little, shaking my head. “No, not tonight. I’ve got an Exoarchaeology and the 22nd Century intensive that I’ve gotta be up for,” I excused, “I already settled up at the bar.” “I thought you were going to ask about their drink special,” Una pointed out, raising a brow. I shrugged as I stood. “And I did. Right before I settled up. Have a good night, guys,” I cast a quick smile around, careful not to let my eyes linger on anyone for too long before I turned and left. That had been good, right? Natural. I had contributed to the conversation, I hadn’t hung on the Captain’s every word like some giggling schoolgirl. I’d more than earned that extra long, extra hot shower. And maybe one Klingon poem. “Headed for the shuttles?” Every single instinct told me to walk faster, pretend I hadn’t heard him. I turned in spite of this. He wasn’t too far behind me. I stopped walking, giving him the chance the catch up. "Sort of our only way to get back to the ship right now, so, that was the plan,” I nodded. Pike pulled his communicator out, raising it to his lips. I was a little tipsy, but I was looking at the communicator, I swear, not at Pike’s mouth. “Pike to transporter room. Two to beam up.” “But--” Before I could finish my sentence, we were in the transporter room. “But?” Pike asked before nodding to the crew. I gave them a quick wave before stepping off of the pads behind Pike. “But I thought the transporter room was out of commission until the Enterprise’s diagnostic was complete,” I said, following Pike to the turbolift. “Diagnostic was completed this morning, Enterprise was cleared,” Pike reported, brow furrowing, “I mentioned that earlier.” Maybe he had; I had been making an active effort at the bar to not listen too intently to what he was saying, and apparently I’d done too good of a job. I nodded once. “Right. Sorry, I must have slush-o mix in my ears,” I muttered. We stepped onto the turbolift, each reaching for the control panel. Pike and I both lowered our hands, and I heard Pike murmur, “Go ahead.” I entered my destination before Pike entered his. There was a pause before the lift hummed. “...Lieutenant, may I ask you something?” “‘Course.” “Please don’t take this unkindly, but,” Oh god, “Is everything alright?” I turned a frown up at Pike, confused. “Why do you ask?” “You seem to be burying yourself in work. Between the lectures yesterday and this morning,” How did he know about yesterday? “The long-range sensor lab last night, your lecture tomorrow-- I’ve been told you took Onafuwa’s one-day intensive?” Una. Blabbermouth. “All compelling evidence, but need I remind you, Captain, that we are in the same turbolift right now because we just left the same bar?” I pointed out. Pike’s brow quirked. “Be that as it may, I just wanted to ask the question on the off-chance it needed asking.” I turned my head again to face the turbolift doors. “I’m alright, Captain.” “...Then why couldn’t you look me in the eye and say that?” “Is that why you left?” I asked, looking up at him then. “Excuse me?” “The bar. Is that why you left the bar? To ask me this?” He blinked once, twice, then pursed his lips, shook his head once and said, “No.” I couldn’t help the smug look that overtook my features as the turbolift doors opened on my floor. Looking back, I’d pass the boldness off on the copious amount of slush-o mix I’d had at the bar. “Never join the Starfleet poker league, Captain. You don’t bluff well,” I said before stepping off of the lift and leaving him behind.

#Christopher Pike #Chris Pike #christopher pike/reader #christopher pike x reader #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike Imagine #I'm Always Curious #captain pike #captain pike x reader #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike Imagine #Captain Pike x You

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ladyideal · 3 years

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Ficmas~ Day 12

Pairing: Scones x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 1576

Warnings: Pregnancy related events

Summary: You have a Christmas baby.

Requested by: @mrs-l-mccoy

A/n: Not so bad for the first pregnancy fic. And I think it went great.

"Y/N? What are you doing here? McCoy will kill me if he sees ye here," A rather displeased Scotty ran up to you the moment an Ensign noticed you in the upper Engineering decks.

"Working, Monty. I'm sick of being on bed rest, and I'm about to go insane if I don't do something," You answered, waddling past him.

Sure you were nine months pregnant, and looking like you were about to burst any moment. Leonard, the ever so dutiful doctor and boyfriend, had put you on bed rest and medical leave ever since you started your 30th week.

Honestly, you were just done with this whole pregnancy and just wanted the baby out.

"I can still fix small things, Monty. Please?" You pleaded, heading into his office. "He doesn't have to know. I can head back in a bit. Just want something to do with my hands."

As an Engineering Lieutenant, you met Scotty first. Soon, your relationship became more than just work related. But how Leonard came into the picture was a story for another time. Getting to know you after countless accidents down in the lower Engineering decks and patching you up, he came to realize that it was Jim's fault for his lack of stricter rules. In an effort to apologize, he'd asked you out for dinner.

The Scot looked conflicted, flipping through the work orders on his PADD to keep you entertained. "You would be able to fix the Medbay's biobed in a jiffy, but Leonard is still on duty."

You sent him a sharp glare, letting out a sigh of relief when you sat down. Your lower back ached, and so did your bladder and knees.

"Here, found it," He rummaged around his piled up desk, retrieving two seemingly perfect PADD and a comm. "Bloody Ensign Zane scared me half to death when he came in unable to fix them."

You snorted, reaching out for them. Ensigns, of course. Newly graduated Engineering ensigns were just as bad as medical ensigns. Len would usually complain about them often when picking up new crew. Happy with being able to work on something, Monty watched you with a relief sigh.

It might be something Leonard was used to, as the second child. For the Chief Engineer though, this was his first child. Dealing with a pregnant lover was one instance he was completely new too. Violent mood swings, nesting, and so much more honestly scared him at times.

Giving you another side glance and making sure you were alright, he settled in his office chair and continued going over reports.

"Scotty," A female Ensign popped in, earning herself a frown from you. "Oh uh hi, Y/N. Didn't see you there. Think I have enough room to put these around the office?"

She indicated an armful of mistletoe.

"Whatever Y/N decides," Scotty spoke nonchalantly, but did look interested.

"Sure! Where can I help?" You shifted away the parts and pieces from the PADD you were working on, and heaving yourself to your feet.

"Oh please no. You're pregnant, and I've enlisted help from Alex and River," Your friend spoke, as the other two waved from behind. "You just let me know where to put them."

"Thanks," You gratefully replied, glad that you were still included. Being on bed rest was enough to drive you nearly insane without much to keep you entertained. Monty and Len would pop by often during breaks, but you still felt left out.

"Come on Monty, it's getting late," You mumbled, placing the last of the repaired electronics on his table. The office, and no doubt the other Engineering decks, were decorated with heaps of dark green mistletoe. "And I got dinner ready too."

"You're forgetting about something, Y/N," He spoke, turning off his terminal and swinging the chair over to face you.

"What?" You frowned when he pointed to the bundle of the green plant hanging overhead.

Realization dawned on you.

"I'll kiss you anytime anywhere, mister. Mistletoe or not," You laughed, pulling him in for the obligatory kiss.

"Come. Let me find my bloody comm and we can eat," The Scot spoke, his Scottish accent slipping out more strongly after a long shift.

"I have it," You pocketed his comm away, letting him escort you back to the shared quarters.

An unfamiliar sensation trickled down your ankle, forcing you to a stop. Eyes widening, you turned to your boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" He frowned, but panic shone in his eyes. "Is the baby okay?"

"Monty? I think my water just broke."

You'd never seen the Chief Engineer move that fast. Panicking, he'd scooped you into his arms and sprinted towards the Medbay, anxiety eating away at him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, Monty. I haven't even my first cont-," You stopped mid sentence, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut as the pain threatened to overwhelm you.

"Leonard!" Scotty bellowed the moment he stepped in, gently placed you on your feet.

"Scotty, what did I say about screaming? I just got patients sleeping not even-," The doctor stopped in his tracks, taking in the urgency in his boyfriend's stance and you taking a grateful deep breath.

"Their water broke."

Things moved really fast once more. You were placed on a bed, prodded, scanned, gowned, in record time. It didn't take long for Leonard to sit down beside you, holding your other hand.

"Baby's fine, darlin'. But it might be awhile before it is time," He spoke softly. "If the pain of the contractions gets too much, we can start you on the pain medications."

"We're having a kid, Len, Monty," You smiled over at Scotty who was rubbing small circles over the back of your hand. "Kid's finally deciding to finally meet us."

"You'll do wonderful," Leonard spoke, gently. "Let me help you get comfortable, sweetheart."

As the hours ticked by, so did the frequency and intensity of the contractions continued. Thank goodness for pain medication too, or you had a feeling you wouldn't be able to get through the night. During the blissful minutes between contractions, Scotty would walk around the medbay with you, talking about gossip and congratulations messages from those around the ship.

By the five minute mark, you were absolutely done with puking and wanted the baby out immediately. A ring of nurses circled around you, and Leonard hovered constantly, fretting often with the numbers affixed on the bed.

"Len, relax, would you? You're scaring poor Monty," You reached out, catching his sleeve and pointing. The Scot had a mixture of emotions flitting through his face every passing minute.

"Sorry," The doctor apologized, keeping his mumbles to himself.

"You ready?" The Engineer spoke, now changed out of his uniform and into a pair of the shirt and sweatpants.

"More than ready," You nodded. "It's been fun, but I'm ready to have this baby out and stop pressing on my bladder and aching my back."

Leonard had returned with a fresh set of gloves, and settled into a rolling chair in front of your legs. A weak smile plastered on his face, but he looked determined. "Sweetheart, when you get the feeling to push, I want you to push hard. Alright?"

Labor was hard, much harder than you were prepared to be. Soon though, you were relieved when the baby's first cry was heard and everyone within the private room cheered. Although exhausted, you watched with a weak grin as Leonard cradled his baby boy within his arms.

Once he was cleaned and fed, you watched with an adoring smile as he slept on your chest. A blue beanie, complete with gloves and socks kept him warm and safe.

"We did it," You grinned over at your two boyfriends.

"You did it, Y/N," Scotty spoke, carefully feeling the baby's hand with a finger. He was in awe of the little bundle of joy, a creation of life that you nurtured for nine months.

"Welcome to the world, baby boy." You crooned.

Once you were allowed to leave, Leonard wheeled you out of the medbay. Scotty, on the other hand, cradled the baby.

"What do you think Jim will say?" You spoke conversationaly. Two days ago you had given birth, and already the Captain was eager to see your child.

"Demand to be his godfather," The doctor shrugged. "What else would the infant say?"

"Congratulations!"

A rather large crowd of officers milled about in the lounge, surprising you when you entered. You smiled as the Captain approached, the first of many.

"You better name him after me after all I did to bring you three together," He clapped Scotty's back, and asked if he could hold him.

Your boyfriend glanced at you for approval, and you agreed with a nod. Watching carefully, Scotty slowly placed him into Jim's slightly awkward arms.

"Wow," was all the blonde could muster, already won over by the baby's cuteness.

"Alright, alright," Leonard grumped after a few minutes. "This isn't the time for "Pass the Kid Around"."

You chuckled, taking Nyota and Spock for their support.

"In fact, just because I ended up delivering my own baby on Christmas Day, doesn't mean I want to end up delivering any of yours."

All around, as the Christmas lights flickered, candle flames danced, and a small pile of baby shower presents sat on a far off table, laughter could be heard around.

It was your Christmas wish coming true.

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @mournthewicked @bluesclues-1234 @keijibum @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @also-fangirlinsweden @charlielotte @groovyfluxie @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @bbeasehnsucht @supergeekfangirl @your-sparklywinnercollection

Trekkies: @marvelouslytrekking @lykxzandlove @mrs-l-mccoy @piccolaromana @strange-old-worlds @scraftskhu35 @april-showers-and-flowers @worm-cant-read @fandomismymiddlename @childofthecornflakes @dartheldur @yueci @lgbtqcontinuum @goddess-of-many-fandoms @writerdee1701 @crackheadcastdirector @readingtrek

McCoy: @cobe76 @yakuzussian @space-cowboy2227 @lacychick @kimberlyfletcher @nerdy-wierdo @samanthasmileys @cappuccinosandcosmos @fxngsfogxarty

Urban: @fandomsfeelsandfamily @justa-traaash @morriganwarrior @jkholmes

#leonard mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #bones mccoy #doctor mccoy #montgomery scott #Leonard mccoy x Montgomery Scott x reader #scones x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #reader insert #star trek #star trek aos #star trek reader insert #31 days of ficmas #ficmas2020 #deb writes

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night-running-echo · 4 years

Text

Vulcans (and Spock) with more cat-instincts headcannons and imagines

Vulcan eyes that are made for seeing in the dark, so during blackouts or during the night they’re perfectly fine and able to do anything without stress. Their pupils are more oval-shaped than human eyes, so they look much more like a cat.

Their eyes also glow, and don’t try to take pics because it’s scary-

Strangely enough, they are a bit less logical and more sassy that their usual selfes and that suits them so much

Vulcans that are really posable so you can watch them randomly put themselves in strange positions and uncomfortable places for other races in an almost astonishing way

It’s not uncommon to see little Vulcan children exploring small places and climbing trees out of spite and then unable to come down, so you can hear the usual “MOTHERRR I’M STUCK” in the early mornings.

Their canines are much longer than human teeth, like cat ones. They use them as weapons, in Kal-If-Fee for example, because their canines are freacking Sharp

it’s rare to hear them purr, but much rarer to hear them hiss, as they try to be in control of their negative emotions. Kinda cute tough.

Vulcan Mothers are really protective of their little ones, so don’t even try to approach them with bad intentions. Just don’t. The Mothers will kill you.

The fact that they rarely sleep dosn’t mean they don’t like doing that. They adore sleeping on something comfy, rays of sunshine that heat them up. It’s a calming and relaxing activity for them and they secretly enjoy it.

Chekov is often toying with Spock, using some feathers on a string or a fake mouse, and Spock always try to not succumb to the cat instinct like “I need… I.. need to.. CATCH” and run after every trap Chekov sets for him.

Spock is driven crazy when caressed and scratched right behind his ears. He absolutely loves it and memorizes who did it better; being petted by this group of people only he knows who and how they caress entertains him.

If you have petted him yesterday and he appreciated that you will pet him today, tomorrow, weeks, months, years until he loses interest. No, I didn’t make the rules.

But don’t touch his hair without permission, or he will bite you.

He crashes into other people’s projects at any moment, craving for attention, putting himself in front of the experiments, interrupting dialogues and lying on computers and don’t moving away until all hear his opinions on the subject. Beware of the Vulcan cat.

He is no Big spoon, He is no small spoon, he is the one who sleeps in unholy positions around you like a snake, and it’s impossible to even understand how he does that.

If you’re lucky enough the next morning, you can observe him stirring, his oval pupils slighty larger for the amount of light, his hair ruffled and fluffy... and it’s a blessing.

You can see him zoning out from everything he do, absolutely anything, if he hears an interesting sound. Jim loves that, because in one moment the Half-Vulcan is talking about Logic, in another moment his ears are perked up and he just runs away in search of the mysterious sound that he just heard.

He nuzzles when he wants something from you, like affection.

Also he loves, really-really LOVES, sitting on shorter people’s heads, maybe if their hair smell good or are comfortable. People just stop moving and breathing, blessed by this moment like: “Ensign, you’re required down here in five minutes” “I can’t, The Commander is resting his head on mine” “Understanable, let the Commander rest.”

When he wins a discussion with Mccoy, he makes a “UwU cat face” and Leonard can’t stay mad with him any longer because it’s so funny and adorable, oh god he straightens a bit to seem taller and it’s so cute-

After the five year mission, when Spock became Ambassador, he literally struggled to keep control his Vulcan istincts because he familiarized with the Enterprise so much that he missed terribly his home. His Cat instincts screamed “ENTERPRISE=HOME, THIS PLACE=NOT HOME. WHERE’S HOME-” and he was emotionally compromised for days.

Sometimes, Spock’s gazes are so intense that the crew can’t even look at him, shying away.

*dialogue via intercom* ”Don’t let Spock near the Christmas tree” “Why?” “you know why” *screams and crashes heard on the other side of the intercom* “WHAT PART OF ‘DON’T LET SPOCK NEAR THE CHRISTMAS TREE’ YOU DID NOT UNDERSTAND”

#star trek #star trek the original series #ToS #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #mcspirk #spirk #spones #james t kirk #Leonard Bones McCoy #headcannons #star trek headcanon #star trek humor #Headcanon #incorrect quotes #lol

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pollyna · 3 years

Text

A concept: Leonard H. McCoy is a good dad. Four hundred fifty people can confirm it and one, eventually two, kid is going to tell him.

For the first two years Jim doesn't really know how or why Leonard's marriage has ended, but he knows it was a sad and awful affair that messed up Bones pretty bad. And he knows, just because he can snoop like no one else in the entire galaxy, that there's a kid in Georgia, her name is Joanna Elizabeth and she loves green and she is almost four. He knows that Bones talks to her every time he can, goes home every weekend he isn't on rotation at the clinic, doesn't forget a birthday or any kind of recitals she does. He can't be there, not as much as he likes, but he always sent a flower or two to make sure his baby girl knows how proud he his of her. Still when the-ex, whom Jim refuses to learn the name, calls in the middle of the evening and says "you're a really shitty father Leonard" and Leonard agrees with her, Jim would like the break something or to shake Bones up because how could that woman think Bones is a bad father? What does she knows about bad and worst fathers? About being forget by their own mother to a person they'll never call dad and who makes them want to run, runrunrunrunrunrunrun, every time something is slightly off? Because they now, he knows, that when he's going to realize what's wrong is gonna be the end. And if not by his hands it will be by his words and they never really gonna forget what he said to them. Not after five minutes and not in ten years. What Bones is a bad father because he is not with his daughter every day? Is he a bad dad even when he calls her daughter after almost forty hours of shift, with tears in his eyes because he lost one to many patient, but seeing his little girl is more important than anything else? Is he a bad dad because the ex wants him to be so bad so she'll have an excuse to cut him off once and for all or she is just mean? Jim knows Bones isn't a perfect dad but he also knows that "perfect" dads are shiny dreams of stars, starship and broken promises that got lost in the death and broken debris. Perfect dads are the one who leave behind them empty graves and so much grief a life time won't be enough to process it all. So the ex should give Bones a little more credit and maybe, maybe, Bones himself is gonna start believing he can be a good dad for Joanna.

The fact is the never really talk about dads, not when they're sober at least. They don't talk about a lot of things but they're getting better on that side. The first fathers' day on the ship come and go, Leonard and Hikaru share a drink and spend the night talking about their girls. Later Bones will tell him that Sulu is a great dad™, trying to say the tm too but pronouncing something similar to t-n, but every one is a better father than he is. 'M just a shitty excuse for a dad, Jimmy. And oh, that makes Jim tear a little, but he doesn't answer because Bones is already asleep.

For the second one their in the middle of a diplomatic mission, too many light years away from Earth, and not even Sulu remembers of it. Still Jim kisses Bones before cuddling with him that night. They still don't talk about it but is a little better than the previous year.

The third year Jim is dead. Joanna is ten and she calls him uncle Jim. The ex, he knows her name is Jocelyn but still the ex, calls at least twice a week and she says she is sorry about some things she said when he was at the Academy. Jim is still dead when all of it happens but he is alive, weak as a new born but alive, when Bones confesses to him that maybe, just maybe, he is not a bad dad. At least not as bad as he used to think. Jim consider it a victory on his personal agenda.

The fourth father's day they share a drink in his private quarter before Hikaru can drag Bones away for their annual "cake and I-have-so-many-feelings-about-my-baby girl" but, when he comes back, he's sober and he's still laughing. Joanna calls the next day and she screams his name so loud even Scotty, five decks under theirs, can hear it. What she is saying is dad I love you, thank you for the present oh god but what they get is a dadiloveyouthankyou! And it's the first time Joanna says "happy fathers' day uncle Jim!" Bones spends the rest of the night kissing him as if he's the treasure.

Th fifth year, the last one before they're going to spend six to nine months on earth, Bones is quiet for a week. He's still kissing him every time he can, bitching with Spock and playing poker on Wednesday will all the senior crew but he's just sad. It's Bones himself that solves the mystery: "Last week one of the new technician, the one we picked from the end of the Alpha Quadrant almost a year ago?, came in for xe physic and xe leaves me a note? Like a paper one, with little doodles all over the page, colorful little, beautiful things and xe wrotes, in Standard, that xe is grateful to know me and xe things I did more to help xem to settle in and learn to live in the middle of so many new species than anyone else. Xe said working here is like starting a new life for xe and I took the role of xem dad? And it wasn't the last card I received! Other eight people left their physic giving me strange, colorful and hilarious pieces of paper wishing me a great dad's day. And then Spock comes in today and he hugs me, a legit hug Jim!, and he says that he will be honored if I could accept to be the godfather of a child who doesn't exist yet, because he can't thing about another human he could trust for the role. And they all are all the faith in the galaxy in me when I don't, not in the role of father at least, and it's unsettling and makes me want to hide away until they realize I'm not that great and I'll let them down."

"I have the best crew in the galaxy or didn't I? So Bonesy you have to trust them when they say and do things like that. And babe, you deserve it. I know you don't believe it but it's true" he concludes kissing him on his lips.

(Bones saves every single one of the card he receives inside a box he takes with him when they arrive on Earth and leave it with his mom because space and danger and all that stuff.)

The sixth, seventh, eighth father's day are spent in different places all over the Alpha and Beta quadrant, trying to meet new species and learn new things. Some of them are the best kind of day, where Bones talks to Jo, kisses Jim until he becomes a little more stupid and in love with this man, and once he even plays chess with Spock and Uhura. Others are not so good but Bones&Hikaru tradition helps more than anything else.

On the ninth Bones is cuddling a new born who lost his parents during a raid on their home planet. "We should adopt him" Jim proposes during dinner and "it's the most logical course of action to take doctor" adds Spock. "Oh hell" is the only thing Bones says before requesting the papers for adoption.

(It's not the only thing he says because they discuss it for hours, because they're afraid to fuck up everything and he is just a baby and he already their world. They've been married long enough to trust they're going to do this together but is all new and terrifying just as exciting.)

For the eleventh father's day they're on Jupiter, Joanna's eighteen and Samuel's two and they spend all day at the park near the Starfleet Center, with the Sulu's. Bones is laughing at something Ben said and Jim looks at him and he is just grateful to do this, having a family, rising a child and exploring space with this wonderful man.

#leonard h mccoy #james t kirk #mckirk #otp: bedside manner #bones doesn't believe he is a good dad but jim knows better #because jim knows bones is trying to do the best he can in a solution that isn't the best one #and jocelyn is mean but she is angry too but she knows leonard's a good dad #low self esteem #from the academy to their first five years mission #the crew of the enterprise #bittersweet #leonard mccoy and hikaru sulu little ritual on father's day is a sleepover with cake and their little girls pic all over the place #father's day #joanna mccoy #samuel kirk-mccoy #bones is the dad™ of the enterprise #this is the longest stuff i wrote as concept #sorry for all the mistakessss #so if you want so kind of concept you can drop it in my box :)#i hope all of it makes a little sense i wrote most of it sleeping in lol #and please remember open comunication is the best way to solve problems #star trek aos #the kelvin timeline

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princesssarcastia · 4 years

Text

more aos!trek sense8 au

hi! I’ve decided to commit to the crazy and continue writing this au. i have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but I am a sucker for outsider POV, so uh. have some outsider POV.

—

Little Nyota has a voracious appetite for languages and alien cultures and the stars; smart as a whip, too. None of them laugh when her five-year old brow furrows and she declares she’s going to learn all of the languages, because—

Well. If Lela would believe it of anyone, it would be her niece.

But this is...unexpected.

After that Starfleet recruiter turned up at their class, she begs and begs and begs, twirling around the yard to find one old-enough relative to take her on a tour of the outpost in their city.

Lela knows what it feels like to be so excited about the future you can’t breathe, so she smiles and agrees.

The tour guide for the Starfleet outpost is Vulcan, of all things; a rarity, though more common here than other parts of the world. The dry heat of their city is apparently similar to that of Vulcan.

And when the Lieutenant greets their group, Nyota straightens her spine and offers the ta’al right back, with a carefully articulated Vulcan phrase. A greeting.

Lela stares at her niece in shock. No Uhura had taught her that, and it wasn’t offered in school yet. How...

The Lieutenant raises an eyebrow, more expression than Lela’s ever seen on a Vulcan, and says something else to Nyota, who nearly vibrates with excitement before screwing up her face and replying again. She didn’t just pick up stock phrases, she’s actually speaking Vulcan.

They head out for the tour soon after; Nyota whispering to one of her invisible friends the entire time.

No one seems to know how Nyota learned to speak Vulcan, when Lela asks, and eventually they write it off as part and parcel of raising a linguistic genius.

—

Alexei watches on, curious, as his nephew goes through what looks like basic fencing sets: lunge, parry, riposte, repeat.

Every so often he will adjust his stance, as though he’s being corrected.

Another one of his mind-friends, no doubt. After everything he’s seen in his life, Alexei saw no reason to doubt Pavel’s claim that he shared a telepathic bond with six other people.

It didn’t hurt that verifying their existence was relatively easy, once Alexei had their names.

“Watch your footwork on your retreat, Pashenka,” he calls firmly, observing how Pavel reacts to the interruption and the criticism. Smiles, when his nephew corrects himself again and throws him a grin without pausing.

These mind-friends of his are good for Pavel.

—

Amanda retreats to the balcony in the early morning, as she always does. The cool night air hasn’t entirely dissipated yet, allowing her to enjoy the fresh air until the heat of the Vulcan day chases her back inside.

Today, Spock follows her. He’s spent less and less time sitting with her as his schooling progresses. It hurts her heart, a little, to watch him draw away, and she suspects the attitudes of his classmates may have something to do with it, but she also knows her son’s devotion to be just like his father would have pulled him in that direction anyway.

So she gives him as big a smile as he can be comfortable with when he settles across the table from her.

“Mother, I have a query,” he says solemnly. Her mouth twitches at the expression on his face, just a little, but she knows better than to laugh at her serious boy.

“Go ahead, Spock.”

“Do humans ever exhibit signs of telepathy or empathetic abilities?”

She blinks. “Certainly. Humans of non-human descent often take on such abilities.”

He frowns, just a little, and she sees she must have misunderstood him. “But do humans ever spontaneously develop telepathic bonds with one another as children?”

Something in her stills. She recalls her studies of the Eugenics Wars on Earth and takes a deep breath. “Not in recent memory, but there are unconfirmed reports of such bonds developing before the Eugenics Wars. It’s believed if the ability ever did exist naturally in humanity, it died out then.” Amanda hesitates, then says, “There are some family records of that period to indicate that my ancestors may have possessed something like this ability.”

Spock’s face clears, and Amanda knows she guessed correctly. “Spock,” she says gently, “have you experienced one of these bonds?”

“Yes, mother. Six of them. Nyota and Jim were unable to determine the origins of the bonds through their research, but I predicted you would have some knowledge of it.” Something she wouldn’t hesitate to call satisfaction or pride on a human brushes across his face.

“Six,” she breathes. There is no reason to lie, and Spock’s preternatural telepathic abilities are well documented. This is not beyond the realm of possibility.

Sarek, she knows, will ask how long this has been happening, want to calculate the distance between Spock and these other people, measure the strength of the bonds. But those are questions for Sarek to ask.

Instead, Amanda asks, “What are their names?” and sees her son’s face brighten for the first time in ages

—

Sharon monitors the signals from USS Shenzhou, USS Farragut, and USS Prometheus, all schedule to check in with Command today, when she notices a sonic anomaly in one of the transmissions. Only, they don’t look like subspace, more—

“..hear me? —lo, can you hear me? —fleet command, —me?”

Her eyes narrow. That voice doesn’t sound right, and they’re not hailing from any assigned frequencies. How the hell...

She boosts the transmission. “This is Starfleet command; state your name and location.”

“Oh, thank god! Uh, my name is Nyota Uhura and you have to send a ship to Tarsus IV, now! Governor Kodos, he’s—”

The voice cuts out again. Sharon frowns and responds. “Kid, I have no idea how you got on this frequency, but this is reserved for Starfleet communications only.” She makes a note in the log and then scrambles the line.

Only, five minutes later it happens again.

“Starfleet command, can you hear me? This is Nyota Uhura again, you have to listen, please he’s ki—”

Who the hell is this girl? “Listen, Uhura, this frequency is reserved for Starfleet Command. You need to clear it for official business.” She reaches out to scramble the line again when her voice comes through, much clearer this time.

“Please, he’s killing them, he’s shooting them! You have to listen, please!”

Killing? “Who’s killing who?” She says sharply, hands hovering over the controls. God, what the hell, the girl sounds genuinely distressed. Val’tk turns to look at her questioningly and she waves her hand at him.

“Governor Kodos, on Tarsus IV. He’s—he shooting them. He told them he had to kill them, the crops are failing, they don’t have enough food, please you have to send someone right now!”

“Tarsus IV?” Sharon replies. “The new colony near uncharted space?” She hesitates. This would be a hell of a prank to play, but...

Muting her transmitter, she turns to Val’tk. “When was the last transmission from Tarsus IV?”

He eyes her, but pulls up the logs anyway. His eyes race over the data. “A few days ago; nothing out of the ordinary.”

She frowns, and unmutes. “Look, nice try, kid, but seeing as you’re on Earth and Tarsus hasn’t reported crop failures of any kind, there’s no way what you’re saying is true.” A few more seconds and she initiates traceback on the signal, putting her somewhere in eastern African Confederation.

“Now, I’m ordering you to surrender this line, as it’s reserved for Starfleet Command only.” And she scrambles it again, kicking Uhura, whoever she is, off the frequency.

But then the kid comes back again.

“Starfleet Command, this is Nyota Uhura, again. I’m not going to stop until you listen to me! Please, just—please. Jim needs your help! They’re running away from the guards now but I think—I think everyone’s dead,” her voice breaks, and Sharon hesitates again.

Jesus, this is crazy, there’s no way. But...oh, fuck it.

“Look, Uhura, there’s no proof what you’re saying is true. Where are you even getting this information?” She asks.

The line falls silent, for long enough that she considers switching it off again, but then Uhura comes back.

“You can...you can contact the Vulcan embassy. What’s your name?”

And now they’re back to crazy, but there’s still something about this...”Lieutenant Sharon Cartwright.”

“Lieutenant, contact the Vulcan embassy and tell them your name. They’ll put you through to...to someone who can confirm what’s happening.”

“Look, kid, I don’t have time for—”

“Please, I’m begging you, please. The longer you wait the more people are going to die, just contact the embassy!”

Fuck. Is she really doing this?

“Hey, there’s...” Val’tk interrupts. “Someone from United Earth just requested access to the Tarsus IV data transmissions. It’s here in the logs.” Sharon turns to him and feels something uneasy work through her stomach.

She stares at Val’tk for a long moment. “Alright, kid. Please hold.”

What even is the line for the Vulcan Embassy in San Francisco? Her fingers fly through the contact list, and she pulls up their number.

Man, she’s going to get in so much trouble for this if they’re wrong. “Vulcan embassy, this is,” she blows out, “Lieutenant Sharon Cartwright from Starfleet Command. I’m told you can put me through to someone to confirm what’s happening on Tarsus IV?”

A pause, a long pause, where Sharon goes back to thinking, this is nuts, I just got pnked by some asshole with a ham radio, when the Vulcan says, “One moment. Connecting you to Ambassador Sarek now.”

“Ambassador Sarek?” she blurts, but they’re already putting her through.

The ambassador doesn’t waste any time. “Lieutenant Cartwright, I can indeed confirm what Ms. Uhura has told you about Tarsus IV. Governor Kodos’s guards have opened fired on the colonists, for reasons unknown at this time. We do not yet know how many are dead.”

Sharon just...stops. Checks that she’s really taking to the Ambassador from Vulcan again. Stares back at Val’tk, who hasn’t stopped looking at her.

“I’m going to...put you through to Commander Aldrin, Ambassador.” She mechanically transfer’s the Ambassador’s line, sends a notification that her CO needs to pick up the comm right the fuck now what the fuck is happening.

Then she takes Uhura off hold. “Uhura, the Ambassador confirmed your story. I don’t,” Sharon laughs shortly, hysteria bubbling up her chest, “I have no clue what’s going on, kid, but I’m pretty sure you do. Where are you getting your information?”

Crackling silence, then, “I share a telepathic bond with one of the colonists.”

“And what’s his name, kid?”

“Jim Kirk.”

Telepathic bond, fuck. How clear is it? “What’s Jim Kirk,” she looks at Val’tk pointedly, “doing right now?” Val’tk moves hurriedly to pull the information up. Fuck if this isn’t either of their jobs, but also fuck if Sharon’s going to foist this off on someone else.

“Running. He’s—they’re running. When he figured it out he grabbed people and they starting running and the guards started shooting and now they’re outside and it’s loud and—”

I put this kid on hold, Sharon thinks. I kicked her off the line, twice. “Okay, Uhura. It’ll be—” alright? no it won’t, fuck, “the Ambassador is talking to Starfleet right now, we’re aware of the situation. Just keep talking to me, okay? Can you do that, Uhura?”

“...yes. Yes, I can do that, Lieutenant.”

—

Chris blinks at the sight of that crazy Russian genius kid everyone keeps going on about waving his hands in Spock’s face yelling about math.

And then raises his eyebrows when Spock starts clearly arguing back, with more agitation in his movements than Chris has ever seen before, even that one time they got into it with the Tellarite delegation on that one planet.

Huh. Now that he thinks about it, they’re about the same age, even though Spock seems so much older in Chris’s head.

“Lieutenant Commander Spock,” he calls out, stepping forward to insert himself into the conversation, just because he’s curious.

Spock immediately straightens and pulls out of whatever staring contest he’d been in. “Yes, Captain.” He salutes, picture perfect, while the Russian kid is still pulling himself out of whatever fugue math-rage he’s in.

“At ease.” Chris nods to the kid. “And who’s this?”

“Oh!” He gets off a salute and immediately starts babbling. “Chekov, sir, Pavel Andreievich. Sorry, sir. We were just arguing about the mass gap and Yang-Mills existence.”

“Of course you were.”

—

Hendorff spend the entire shuttle ride trying not to send angry, confused glances at Uhura. His abdomen is still bruised like a peach from where she planted her foot in his stomach out of nowhere, just because he hit the townie hitting on her.

Yeah, he was buzzed, but she was clearly miles ahead of this asshole. She should be thanking him.

But instead, she and the asshole spend the entire ride sitting next to each other, leaning into the space between them. He’s had classes with Uhura before, last year, and they see each other in passing around campus; not once did she seem like she was...basking in anyone’s presence like she is right now. Even helped him with his fucking seatbelt!

At least the asshole seems just as awed to be sitting next to her, but come on. He calls bullshit.

And then the shuttle lands.

They dock right on campus and the other cadets start unlatching and pouring out the hatch, bleeding off in twos and threes while Captain Pike does final checks before shutdown. Uhura and the asshole practically leap out the door, and Hendorff catches up just in time to see them crash into a group of cadets waiting just outside.

He recognizes them, mostly; the same guys Uhura spends all her time with. Not that Hendorff is keeping tabs, its just that everyone knows who they are. Academy rumor has it they’re either going to run the ‘fleet someday, or burn it to the ground.

All four of them, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov, have the asshole in a death grip, seeming to clutch at whatever part of him and each other they can reach. He feels something like unease run down his spine. Maybe...maybe they know each other?

Fuck, of course they knew each other, you don’t hug a stranger like that. Now the question is how the hell do they know each other.

As he sidesteps them (still basically right in front of the shuttle hatch, like they hadn’t noticed they were in the way and about fifteen different people stopped to gawk) he hears the asshole say, “When does Bones get in? And where the hell is Spock, huh?”

At that point, he mentally throws up his hands and surrenders to the confusion. No fucking way he’ll figure out how a dumb hick from Iowa knows Starfleet’s brightest cadets and Lieutenant Commander Spock before even setting foot on campus.

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

A Singular Cog in the Machine Chapter 3

Chapter Title: Soul and Emotion

Summary: "It was pure logic when it came down to it. Why allow harm befall the others if Logan could stop it? Surely, it was much more beneficial for only one to be harmed than for all to undergo excruciating pain and misery. A broken cog is more easily replaced than if the whole machine fell apart.“

Logan adheres to the belief that needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the one, the latter being himself. Or in other words, Logan tries to sacrifice himself for the sake of the others. Fortunately for Logan, they won’t let him get away with that.

Chapter Word-Count: 2k

Pairings: platonic lamp

Warnings: Injuries, Referenced Torture, Crying, Misunderstandings, Angst With a Happy Ending

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | End AO3 LINK

As promised, here comes the comfort! I want to give a quick shout-out to both @delimeful and @today-only-happens-once as their own sci-fi aus helped inspire me to finish what I started with this one heh <3

Logan woke up alone for the first time in a long while. Approximately sixty-six cycles, five hours, thirty-two minutes, four, five, six seconds ago.

‘Internal Clock program is running functionally,’ Logan thought as he closed his eyes, running a quick diagnosis scan. It was not...completely optimal. Parts of his code had been ravaged, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. His biological body still suffered grievous breaches. His artificial eyes were damaged, only working at 70% efficiency.

This made viewing things from a distance rather difficult. However, it was clear enough to recognize he was not in his own quarters. Rather, he was still in the ship’s common recreation area. The “living room” as Virgil referred to it.

He laid on the couch, swaddled in soft blankets and cushioned with a plethora of pillows. Both he expected came from Patton’s hoard in his quarters. He was almost surprised not to see a stuffed animal in the crook of his arm. The television was on, the volume lowered to only a pleasant murmur could be heard. Images of animals flashed onto the screen. A nature documentary, one that Logan had previously found to be captivatingly informative.

“--we’ll take care of you, we’ll watch all your favorite nature documentaries, how does that sound?”

Patton had said that, he recalled. But when? He tried locating the source of the memory file. Except--

ERROR MEMORY FILE CORRUPTED.

He dug a bit deeper, finding more and more memory files in a similar disarray. He’d known this problem was occurring. But that didn’t explain the chill that swept through his body just then. A fever perhaps? No, his body temperatures remained at their normal regulated levels.

Before he could contemplate this further, his ears picked up on noises in the distance. Too far away to make it out from his position. There was a simple solution to his quandary. The ship computer. Or Odysseus as Roman insisted on calling it. He could request an audio transcript.

Pinging...pinging...pinging…

He couldn’t reach the ship computer. That was not optimal. His only option was to investigate the noises himself.

Logic dictated he was wounded. He should remain on the couch unless absolutely necessary. He remained put, concentrating on the television. The urge to find the source of the noises would not go away. It festered, growing rapidly like a disease until he could not withstand it any longer.

Standing up from the couch proved far more difficult than he anticipated. His torso flared in pain, his legs shaky and unstable. He gripped the side of the couch, breathing in deeply. His vision spun, distorted and decorated with bright spots of light. It took a moment for it to completely clear.

He looked down the corridor, the distance stretching into oblivion. No, that was a falsehood. It was only ten meters long. However, in his current physical state it might as well be a thousand meters.

It didn’t cause his pressing curiosity to fade in the slightest. He took a step forward, his foot stinging like pins and needles to quote an idiom of Virgil’s. He didn’t collapse. Granted, he heavily leaned onto the couch for support. He took another step forward and then another.

He held onto the corridor wall the whole way, a small grunt of pain leaving him. The dizziness returned, but he pushed through it. All that mattered was reaching the end of the corridor. If Logan’s memory was still accurate, it should lead to the ship galley. Perhaps the others were engaged in re-energizing through fuel consumption?

As he drew close, the noises crystallized into recognizable speech.

“Are you sure?” Virgil’s voice asked, pointed and edged. Someone responded, much too low for Logan to catch. He gritted his teeth, propelling himself onward at an accelerated rate. His vision frizzled and crackled, everything becoming a blobby mess of colors.

“Maybe we should--Logan!”

An arm wrapped around his waist, hoisting him up. Logan opened his mouth to protest when a wave of nausea hit him. He quickly shut it in favor of keeping his stomach contents down. The person guided him to a chair, careful and steady. He sat there, grimacing as the nausea gradually subsided from his systems.

When he glanced up again, he met the furrowed brows of Roman, Patton and Virgil. They gathered around him, forming a semi-circle. He examined them, scrutinizing every detail. His drive whirred from the amount of tests he processed in the matter of nanoseconds. Each one proving the validity of his suspicions every single time.

“You’re real.” He croaked.

They all exchanged a glance.

“Yes, we’re here Logan, you’re safe now,” Patton confirmed, laying a hand on Logan’s shoulder. A gesture meant to be reassuring except it wasn’t reassuring at all.

“No,” Logan shook his head, “You should--cannot---I don’t--it does not make sense!”

“Why does it not make sense?” Roman asked, dropping down on one knee. He acted odd, more muted than usual. The way his head bowed indicated a sign of exhaustion. Logan shook this thought aside in an attempt to formulate a response.

“To quote Spock from the movie Star Trek II Wrath Of Khan, ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one,’” Logan said. Upon their blank stares, he elaborated, “A singular cog in the machine is more easily replaced than if the whole machine falls apart. As the ship engineer and navigator, my role is vital but replaceable, therefore--”

Patton drove into Logan, embracing him firmly around his middle. The titekan’s whole frame shook as deep, guttural sobs fell erupted from him. Logan blinked, almost short-circuiting from this unexpected turn of events.

“I...do not understand.” Logan admitted. He glanced up at Roman and Virgil only to find them in similar states of malfunction.

“You colossal intelligent idiot,” Roman murmured, his face dripping with ivory tears. He shoved his head against Logan’s shoulder, placing his arms around both him and Patton. “Did you really think we could function without you?”

‘‘Yes,’’ Logan wanted to say, but he couldn’t. The word wouldn’t come out of his clenched throat. Virgil was the only one left standing at this point. He was the captain, the system administrator. He was a much-appreciated source of reality. Surely, despite his human emotions, he understood the logic.

“Lo,” Virgil sighed, running his hand through his hair, “When you disappeared, we searched all over the galaxy looking for you. We looked for weeks. And after we found you, we’ve been taking care of you in shifts. You know why?”

Logan shook his head.

“Because you’re not a broken cog to us. You’re more than that--you’re a kraffing sentient being. You’re--” Virgil’s voice wobbled. He inhaled harshly, pushing on, “Dammit, you’re family, Logan. And it’s cheesy but we don’t give up on one another. Never.”

“Captain Fearless is right,” Roman said, and Patton made a rumbling sound of agreement.

“Oh,” Logan managed, swallowing, “Oh.”

He’d thought so much about the others’ and their importance to the system. He analyzed and calculated it all. He saw how removing any of their variables would be detrimental. But in all his calculations, he never considered how he himself affected the equation.

“I did not--I made a slight miscalculation--” Logan breathed in, “I am sorry.”

“No,” Virgil said, stepping closer, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should’ve told you, I assumed it was an understood thing. We could’ve rescued you sooner if I hadn’t second-guessed myself--”

“Virgil.” Logan said, the clenching feeling in his throat tightening. Wordlessly, he reached out a hand to Virgil. He wasn’t quite sure what he was attempting to convey. Fortunately Virgil seemed to understand. He leaned over and joined the entangling of limbs and bodies.

‘A group hug,’ Logan’s dictionary program informed him, ‘an instance of three or more people embracing one another simultaneously, typically to provide support or express solidarity.’

They held onto one another for quite a while, not moving a single muscle. Great globs of tears were shed amongst them all; even Logan wasn’t immune to it. He rationalized it was his body reacting to the others’ emotional displays. It probably did not have to do with the strange, tingly warmth lit up inside his chest.

He would worry about this sensation if not for the melatonin in his system starting to take effect. He closed his eyes, a long intake of oxygen following this action.

“Logan?” Patton sniffled.

“Yes?”

“Th...there’s something we need to tell you about.”

Logan’s eyes fluttered open. He looked expectantly at Patton, waiting. The titekan opened his mouth to continue, but Virgil and Roman beat him to it.

“Patton, are you seriously going to tell him--”

“We should wait--”

“No,” Patton said, interrupting them both, “we can’t keep this from him. He deserves to know.”

It didn’t increase in volume, but Logan’s heart was the only thing roaring in his ears. Deserves to know? The only scenarios Logan could come up in his mind was his tests were faulty, wrong wrong wrong about this being real. It was all fake. A simulation, surely or worse; an experiment. The thousand eyes watching him behind a screen, shattering his hopes once more.

“Logan?” A soft hand touched his cheek, “you with us?”

“Yes,” Logan heard himself saying, “Yes, I’m here. Go on, Patton. What is it that you’d like to divulge?”

“When we brought you back, I did a few medical scans, to try and see if there was any internal bleeding going on,” Patton hesitated, refusing to meet Logan’s eyes, “I found an AI chip in your brain.”

What? Impossible, his AI was supposed to be undetectable by scans--

“That disgusting buvah must’ve stuck it in you for the kriffs and giggles,” Roman growled, his scaled tail whipping with indignation.

“As far we can tell, it doesn’t have a tracker,” Virgil said, “and removing it could be lethal.”

“Okay.” Logan said faintly.

“Okay?” Roman repeated, squinting, “We just told you that you have a freaky AI chip in your brain and your response is, ‘okay?!’”

“Hey, lay off him, Princey,” Virgil hissed, “He’s been through a lot, you know that.”

“Well,” Logan began, “this is not how I expected to inform you all of the fact that I am an advanced artificial intelligence operating inside of a biological body.”

“What?!” Roman gaped at him. Virgil and Patton also stared at him, showing similar signs of duress.

“I did not think it was imperative intel as it did not negatively impact my performance as neither an engineer or navigator.” Logan said. And while it was true, it was also a bit of a lie. The reality was that most people seemed to be wary of AIs. This was why he chose to clothe himself with a biological body to blend in, so to speak. All it took was working lungs and a beating heart for others to respect and listen as illogical as that may be.

“I admit, that perhaps that was another lapse of judgment on my part. I understand if knowing this...makes you uncomfortable,” Logan added, a weird twisting feeling settling in his gut. Perhaps he was ill? He could not find himself to meet their gazes. He tried not thinking about how that was a sign of nervousness. He was not nervous, after all, AIs do not get nervous.

“Freaky?” Roman let out a high-pitched laugh, “did I say freaky? I meant to say there’s a freaking fantastic AI chip in your brain.”

“I agree,” Patton chirped up, “You could almost say that he’s too cute to compute!”

Now it was Logan’s turn to gape at them. “It really does not bother any of you?”

“It’s like I said,” Virgil told him, a small smirk growing on his lips, “you’re family. We love you, AI or not.”

Logan blinked, slowly processing the others--no, his family’s words. It didn’t make sense. His systems struggled putting it in neat, quantifiable boxes. He feared trying would only result in his systems crashing. For once, however, he found it didn’t matter that didn’t need to make sense.

So his response to this was purely logical. In ways Logan refused to elaborate or share even within himself.

“I...find you all sufficient as well.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #lamp #kat writes

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inherbookishhead · 4 years

Text

Some of my headcanons for Tentoo x Rose (cause why not, it’s quarantine time and I need some softness in my life):

It’s the Doctor who drives the whole “making a home with Rose Tyler” initiative, where he surprises her one day with their weird shell-like three-storey house which looks like it came straight out of Dali’s paintings, with a glass roof, huge telescope, grunge interior and round things on the walls, of course. (Rose is flabbergasted by this gesture and thinks the Doctor has finally lost it, which gets him quite indignant because while he’s searching for the quickest way to be able to escape to the stars, he is also excited to settle in their own place. He finally bought a purple sofa, for heaven’s sake!)

In some quiet moments when the Doctor is growing the TARDIS in his lab in Big Ben, Rose likes to hug him tightly from behind, lay her hands on where both of his hearts would be and oversee what he is working on from behind his shoulder. He keeps a straight face and a running commentary on which part of the console he is working on now, although his heart rate goes up considerably and he makes sure to hold her hand when he needs to disentangle himself to reach for a tool, thus keeping her in place, and entangle himself back once he took what he needed.

As much as Rose has been the initiator of their relationship, it’s the Doctor that usually jumps her at every convenient occasion once his mind realises that a) he can touch her now without fear or guilt and b) she enjoys it quite a lot.

Usually Rose gets exactly 10 minutes of freedom in bed before the already sleeping Doctor seeks her out and starts his own alien invasion by throwing all his limbs at her and basically settling on top of Rose for the night with his nose squished firmly into the crook of her neck. She complains about him being heavy and way too hot, but then one night they happen to be apart and she can’t fall asleep with that weight missing. She stops complaining after that.

The Doctor likes to lay his head on Rose’s chest, close his eyes and nudge her hand to let her run her fingers through his hair or stroke his ear. Notwithstanding all the hugs and hand-holding he realises he’s never been touched and held quite like that before.

They still fight from time to time, because the Doctor is not only still rude but also has a whole arsenal of Donna’s snarky phrases, and Rose is just as stubborn.

They find a vortex manipulator and indulge in travelling through time on Earth to catch up on the alternative history and escape the boredom of ordinary life when it becomes too much for them.

They finally manage to grow their TARDIS, which Rose insists, should be a blue phone box and a blue phone box only, because if they travel somewhere, they are going to do it with style. (”You don’t see Spock changing Millenium Falcon on every trip, Doctor. It’s iconic!” “It’s Han Solo, Rose”)

They get their Little Trouble after ten years or so, which comes completely by (a very welcome) surprise, considering that they are still partly different species and Rose jumping dimensions has taken its toll on her body.

Little Trouble is soon promoted to a “Ms Captain” on the TARDIS because while she has her father’s brilliant mind, she also has her mother’s smile, which turns a said father into goo. She has an exclusive spot on his shoulders (because a good captain of the ship always needs to see what’s happening) and a unique privilege to style his hair in the meantime so that when they bump into slightly aggressive aliens once, the Doctor goes full Oncoming Storm on them only to hear Rose’s helpless cackling behind him. As it turns out having a raging timelord with five colourful little ponytails all over his head is not the most effective way to scare off creatures (but surely a good icebreaker to persuade them you are not a threat).

Little Trouble outlives her parents by a very long shot. She’s born “more like her father than her father himself”, having a set of two hearts from birth, which quite surprises the Doctor. She keeps on traveling the universe and helping those who are in need, just like her parents did. Her TARDIS is still the same apart from a child’s carving now firmly residing on one of its sides, which shows a woman with two unequal eyes and long eyelashes, a lanky man with exactly 5 spiky hairs and a striped suit, and a small girl with a disproportionate head and a giant smile between them, holding their hands.

I’m going to write about them, am I not? Goddamnit. I’m gonna.

#TenToo x Rose #Rose x Tentoo #tentoo #pete's world #rose tyler #dw headcanons #doctor who headcanon #post journey's end #10.5 #the doctor x rose #timepetals #rose and tentoo #Rose x The Doctor #doctor rose #tentoorose #doctor x rose #doctorrose #inherbookishqueue

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