#cool i'm gonna go wash these tear tracks off my damn face from arguing with my insane mother

[samingtonwilson]

Loot - Part 4 - Jim Kirk

Loot masterlist

Word count: 2,486 Warnings: language, mentions of abuse/injuries

A/N: another long part filled with nonsense. this part really got away from me tbh, it’ll be totally back on track soon. it just doesn’t feel believable to me to have something intense happen every time (although, arguably, believability is shot to hell when you’re writing about a sci-fi franchise). i wanted this story to be more about the reader and their feelings and jim and his feelings. i hope his feelings toward the reader are obvious without me having to point blank write them-- like i hope you can tell through mannerisms. anyway, i’ve had a trying week and apologize if i missed some typos. lemme know if you wanna be tagged! ENJOY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

The artifact was becoming a pain— something you could say literally after the ancient hunk of metal scalded the skin of your palm and wrist, and something you could say figuratively after you were forced out of your oven-like temporary quarters more often than not for the past three days.

According to a drunken, loud-mouthed Ensign Chekov, the Enterprise had flown through a nebula that threw off the ship’s electrical balance. It caused the air systems, the warp core, and practically every electronic on the ship to be knocked out of equilibrium and into much more volatile, unpredictable states—  a statement you could confirm due to the onset timing of the artifact’s volatility.

When it came to the air systems, cool air would blast out of the vent when warm air was desired and vice versa. As for the warp core, several engineers found themselves in the medbay clutching burns from the core’s overheating while electronics such as communicators and PADDs shorted out, shut off, and came back to life upon whim.

Hearing that all the malfunctions were due to a nebula was a relief but the initial worry you experienced lingered a little. You wondered if the problems were being exacerbated by the artifact and almost had your suspicions confirmed when rumor had it the ship’s chief engineer, Scotty claimed this particular nebula couldn’t have been the only cause for so many issues.

You found yourself wishing you’d taken Jim up on his offer to explain to you why the artifact was so important. You also found yourself wishing you could pry a window open and throw the damn thing into the dark abyss of space— no amount of tuition was worth the pain it was causing you and the potential pain it could cause the hundreds of people on board.

As you sat atop a biobed in Exam Room 1 of the medbay, you swung your legs in order to appear more nonchalant than your ever-circulating thoughts actually had you feeling. You watched McCoy stand with his back against the edge of the counter, his hazel eyes narrowed as he read the screen of his PADD with his most casual frown.

“You can tell me if I’m dying— I’m strong enough to take it.”

“You’re not dyin’,” he snorted, his typical peach cobbler Southern drawl sounding thicker somehow. “You want to tell me how you keep gettin’ these burns, though?”

You clicked your tongue. “I told you all I had to tell three days ago.”

“Yeah, yeah— the malfunctions are making your replicator short out. It’s just, these don’t look like burns from hot dishes.”

“Then pray tell, Doctor, what do they look like?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “They’re too extensive to have been caused by what you’re suggesting— a grab-and-drop scenario. It’s like you held onto whatever it was while it burnt you.”

He softened his features then— his nostrils were no longer flared, his eyebrows were knit together, and his frown shrunk. He pulled a stool and placed it in front of you, sitting upon it and taking your hand in his.

You looked at him confusedly and blinked.

“You’re not doin’ this to yourself, are you, darlin’?” he asked in a quiet voice filled with a degree of understanding you didn’t know any human being could be capable of. His eyes seemed to melt like chocolate before you. “I can see from your file you haven’t had it easy. Treatments for the odd bouts of internal bleeding, spiral fractures, burns— it's all typical of something that raises a red flag.”

“Yeah? A red flag?” you asked with overly mock curiosity. “Indicative of what?”

“Abuse.”

You scoffed. “I was a student athlete,” you told him easily. So easily, in fact, that you weren’t worried about your voice shaking, nor were you worried about it heightening in octaves. You were able to keep your gaze steadily in his. You’d said those words too many times for them to not come out flawlessly. “Everyone broke a fair share of bones and was covered in bruises.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What about the burns?”

“Recent burns or historically?”

“Historically, sweetheart.”

“I’m a terrible cook,” you shrugged again. You once again had no issues keeping your voice still and your gaze steady. “Resilient, since I keep trying, but terrible. Had the fire department at the ready each time I picked up a pan.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“(Y/N), —”

“Enough, Bones!” you almost shouted, the nickname flowing out naturally most likely due to the extensive amount of time you spent with Jim. As blood rose to the tips of your ears and the base of your throat, you clutched onto the edges of the biobed. “Right now, these burns are because of a replicator and healing them should be your only concern. My history—” you sighed out a curse and shook your head once. “I don’t even know most of my history.”

“You know, your past can impact your future,” he added after a few beats of silence.

“Thank you, Sigmund Freud,” you said dryly, smiling when his lips curved upwards and he shook with silent laughter. You set your hand on his shoulder. “I’m aware of what the past can do. But you have nothing to worry about— not with past me, or current me. It’s just a replicator.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “All right, I’ll take your word for it.”

He rose from the stool and kicked it aside with the sole of his boot. He picked his PADD up once more and began tapping on the screen. “I’ll give you a salve to take back to your quarters— an extra large jar because you don’t seem to be learnin’ your lesson with that replicator.”

“I won’t have to come back here?”

He glanced at you and snorted. “Don’t look so happy ‘bout that. It hurts my ego.”

You laughed. “Sorry. It’s not you. It’s this exam room, this medbay, this ship.” You shook your head and wet your lips. “I just want to be back on Earth— forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Careful who you say that to, sweetheart. You might break a heart without realizin’ it.”

Though it was nowhere near the path you were meant to be taking, you stopped at the observation deck prior to even contemplating sending the turbolift to Excited Ensign Village. Of course, you were prompted to do so by a transmission McCoy received on his communicator and didn’t go on your own accord— a fact that, alone, decreased your cognitive dissonance tenfold only to have it shoot back up the moment you felt your own excitement.

You weren’t dating Jim. There was no feasible way you, a cadet with sticky fingers, could date Jim, golden boy and captain of the best ship in the fleet. You were aboard his ship, for crying out loud— a ship you were only still on due to medical orders and a ship you originally boarded due to the artifact which was metaphorically, and quite literally, burning a hole in your quarters. You were just sleeping with him— nothing more, nothing less. It was a violation of goodness knows how many rules, but Jim never made you feel for an instant that he didn’t think the infringements were worth it.

You were having trouble convincing yourself that you didn’t want to actually date Jim, that you didn’t like Jim as much as your body would have you believing. Your heartbeat would slowly increase at the sight of him, grinning thuds almost bursting through your ribs whenever he touched you— your skin would react as well, goosebumps rising in the wake of his lips and fingertips, and your knees would betray you at any opportunity. It was unlike the feelings of attraction and fondness you had previously experienced and the whole thing, beyond physiological reactions, made you sick.

You were disgusted at yourself for the way your body reacted to him, yes, but you were more disgusted at the tendency of your mind to drop whatever guard you had. In your mind, you shouldn’t have been so comfortable around him and you should have kept yourself away from him the moment he went from being a stranger to someone you wanted to call your own.

You pulled your sleeves over your hands so the ends reached your fingertips and cleared your throat as you stepped into the observation lounge to gain Jim’s attention. When he turned halfway to meet your gaze, you nodded towards the extremely large window he stood before. “This is nice.”

He hummed in agreement, turning back around. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers, his back straight in tense-Captain-Mode as his jaw was hardened into sharp lines. “Yeah, it is. It’s my favorite place on the ship.”

“Aside from your chair?”

He laughed through his nose, looking over at you when you stood beside him to stare at the thick glass. You saw in his reflection that the smile over his lips was small, but it touched his eyes. He leaned towards you and said softly, “Including my chair.”

As you turned your head to face him, your nose brushed against his. You watched while his posture lost a bit of staunch. You had to stop yourself from kissing him the instant he momentarily glanced at your lips. “Including? You must really have a thing for this window.”

He hummed again. He bumped his shoulder against yours so you staggered to the side, a smile playing at his plump lips. “I come here whenever I’ve had a stressful day and it just… it puts everything in perspective.”

“So you had a stressful day?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to share this with you in case you’re ever stressed, uneasy, or upset. On the Enterprise, on Earth, wherever you end up, looking at the stars really puts things into perspective.”

“The whole ‘we’re so small, our problems are so small’ thing?”

He clicked his tongue. “The whole ‘there’s always light’ thing.”

You wanted to smile but frowned in consideration instead. “That’s awfully poetic. Why me, though?”

He hummed questioningly without looking away from the view before him.

“Why did you decide to share this with me? Does it seem like I’m upset, or stressed, or uneasy?”

He ignored your question. “I know you aren’t a fan of where your quarters are, but injuring yourself to take up residence in the medbay is somewhat excessive.”

“I’m not injuring myself.”

“Then how do you explain that?” he asked, nodding his head towards your gauze wrapped wrist and forearm.

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the glass, staring at his reflection rather than letting your eyes meet his. “Well, I don’t explain it. Because I don’t feel the need to.”

Jim snorted and shook his head. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers wordlessly.

“I understand that this window makes you emotional and deep, Jimbo, but I’m not going to hold your hand for support,” you said dryly, trying to suppress a smile when he clicked his tongue.

“Give me your damn arm, Cadet.”

You turned your body to face him entirely and set your forearm in his hand with admittedly a bit more force than you should’ve, a sharp pang of pain coursing up your limb. You weren’t able to hide a hiss and wince.

His eyes flew to yours as he heard the sharp inhale through your teeth. The baby blue of his irises and the concern overflowing from them made your breath hitch in your throat. For your own good, you wanted to look away but, for the life of you, you couldn’t.

“What happened?”

“My attitude overtook my better judgement.”

“Consider it a punishment for insubordination,” he mumbled as he undid the gauze wrapping. He narrowed his eyes at your arm and sighed. “These look bad.”

“They’ll be fine soon enough— probably won’t even leave a mark.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Why would marks be my concern?”

“I can’t imagine why any of this is your concern.”

If you’d thought there was no way he could look more outraged, you were proven wrong then. He didn’t speak on it, though, only winding the bandage once again. He reclasped the metal hook so your wound was bound tightly and turned your hand over, looking at your palm. “The burns hurting you, the cause of the burns— those are my concern.”

You averted your gaze and took your hand from his. You set your fingertips on the glass, your palms flat against the surface. You caught a glimpse of his reflection and noticed his eyes on you, his arms crossed over his chest. “Chekov told me your chief engineer’s trying to track down the source of all the electrical shortages. He doesn’t think it’s just that nebula?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jim answered, his eyes watching your fingertips as you absentmindedly pressed them in each place you saw the glow of a far off star. “Scotty thinks the effects of the nebula should’ve worn off by now, but next to nothing’s returned to homeostasis. You know, you can’t count the stars no matter what system you use.”

You frowned, stretching your arm to reach higher stars. “What do you think?”

“That you may be smart, but every system fails. There are too many stars.”

“About Scotty’s theory, you idiot,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think I have no knowledge on anything pertaining to engineering.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion.”

“My opinion is you should stop burning yourself.”

You glared at him and pinched his arm with as much force as you could muster, his hand slapping yours away as he yelped in surprise pain. “Is he going to investigate it further?”

Jim kept rubbing his bicep. “He’s planning on it. He thinks he can detect where the frequencies are highest and go from there.”

“Frequencies?”

“Electro… something. I told you I have no knowledge on anything having to do with this stuff.” He eyed you for a second with a single eyebrow raised. “Why are you so interested?”

You did your best to look nonchalant. “There’s nothing else to do on this ship. No one’s doing anything noteworthy— Uhura and the Vulcan are being amicable about their break-up, McCoy won’t fuck the nurse he’s into, Chekov refuses to shit talk anyone even when he’s drunk, you’re only sleeping with one person—”

“You.”

You laughed as you spoke, smiling up at Jim as his arms wrapped around your waist, “Yeah, but you could sleep with few more people! Give me something to talk about, something to focus on!”

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment that was much too short. “I’m not looking to sleep with other people.”

“Really? Your fanclub was wrong about you.”

tag list: @outside-the-government @daughterofthebrowncoats @multifandom-slytherin @buckyy3s @cinema212 @caaptain @dani-fae