The Family You Choose
Jan. 25th, 2018 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU
Summary: Jim answers a few questions from his nosy crew...
Word Count: 1024
Rating: Gen
Star Trek (the 2009!movie verse) Cambion AU
Summary: Jim answers a few questions from his nosy crew...
Word Count: 1024
Rating: Gen
By the time they finally manage to pry the truth, or at least part of the truth, out of him, Jim’s pretty sure he’s inebriated. Or at least on his way to being inebriated. He’s not quite sure. It’s been a while, is part of the problem, and he’s pretty sure he’s never quite seen the yellows and the reds seep out of the world leaving it awash with blues before, but this, whatever it is, is good stuff.
“It’s not that we didna care before, laddie,” Scotty’s explaining, and it makes all sorts of sense. His fight-or-flight instincts had been totally forgotten hours ago. “Y’just wouldna let us get close. We care, y’know. But we didna know how t’ help, especially when you were so determined to convince us y’re a wee scunner.”
The gist hadn’t occurred to him. He frowns, but the words aren’t coming to him tonight.
More gently, Sulu explains, “Your actions spoke louder than your words, Captain. You may sound selfish, but you would’ve given your life for the Federation, for this ship, for your people. You may talk like you don’t respect relationships, but the number of your exes you’re on good terms with suggests otherwise. Should I go on, sir?”
It takes Kirk a minute to parse what had been said, another to realize, “Y’know, I’m pretty sure that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say.”
Hikaru just smiles.
“You do well at keeping others from seeing who you really are,” Uhura notes.
He makes a frowny face and then giggles about how he probably looks goofy. Especially in blue.
“I didn’t think you’d make a happy drunk, Captain,” their CMO joins them, amused, placing a goblet of what looks like wine on the table in front of him, and in a moment of endless maturity, Jim sticks out his tongue.
“You’re drunk,” he declares, as if it’s perfect logic, and looks around to find his First Officer.
Spock looks—no, feels—pained. “You are not drunk, Captain.”
He pouts, kicking his feet. “’M a bit drunk,” he admits, sitting a little straighter—ooh, maybe he can order cheese. Or mushrooms, or whatever edible fungi they have in this quadrant. Oddly enough, for all his allergies neither had graced the lists.
“We are, essentially, your family. Is that not correct?” Spock does look like he’s actually looking for an affirmation.
He wants to lash out, to cry, to hide, to run. He does none of those things, because Sulu puts a calming hand on his arm, and his amount of calm amusement that radiates general amusement at the world is relaxing. It’s a way of life he can get behind. “I—I’m not sure I’d know, honestly, but—the closest thing I’ve got to the things they write about, yeah.”
“You avoid intimacy. You fake being more inebriated in order to avoid conversations you do not wish to have,” Spock continues, accusing. Don’t lash out; he’s purposefully provoking you, probably so you’ll talk or realize something.
“I haven’t learned how to be something else,” he explains and smiles shyly at them. “I don’t have a lot of criteria. If they’re a woman, I’m more conventional—I like blonds, generally, although I’m not super picky. Guys I tend to experiment a little more, but…” He shrugs. “Intelligence, though, is probably my biggest turn-on. I also like sarcasm, especially when it’s directed at me, but part of it—not many people really care enough to tell me when I’m being dumb, especially when they also take care of me and support me. Sometimes they generally tell me I’m dumb, but…I don’t know, I don’t….if they don’t give me a way to fix it or are just going off of bad impressions, I don’t always know how to fix it.” He’s staring at his hands. He’s not sure when he laced them together. Sulu’s still got a hand on his shoulder, which is nice. Grounding. Years ago, they would’ve diagnosed him with…he’s not sure, some sort of learning or social disability, maybe. “I like talking with someone about the latest discoveries or even ancient tech. NASA’s awesome. I mean, ancient, completely outdated, but awesome. I’m pretty sure I got along so well with Gaila because we talked computer coding when we were done.”
They’re actually listening. It’s…well, he’s pretty sure it’s not normal. He’s not normal, and the way he talks about it can’t be, right? But then—maybe none of them are normal. It’s a startling revelation, but then, it shouldn’t be. Spock’s a child of two worlds. Chekov is the kid genius, and from how he reacts it’s definitely something that set him apart, not always in a good way. Scotty’s, well, the way they met him definitely gave some hints along that line.
“You’re all as weird as I am and you get that and you accept me,” he says out loud. He hadn’t meant to. He’s definitely tipsy.
From the fond smiles and the slight squeeze Sulu gives, maybe that’s why they like him, too. Because after as different as he is, how can he judge anybody else?
“I suppose that’d be something, too. Compassion, or whatever else you could call it. I mean, compassion overall, but.” He waves his hands. He couldn’t ever afford to be picky, really. Now that he’s being given the chance to articulate it, he doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to say. “Pretty, smart, kind? I guess?”
Scotty laughs, and he pouts again. “I’ve always just taken what the universe gives to me,” he says, shifting, and the amusement suddenly disappears. It’s not pity, either. It’s…sympathy?
“We’ll help you,” Uhura promises, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d like to try being romantic. I’ve never done that before. They’d have to be okay and work with being in Starfleet, and I’d like to be able to have them around on the ship if possible.” He shrugs.
They stop asking questions and start pointing out different people and generally getting to know him better. In the end, it’s not too embarrassing, and it’s nice getting on better terms with his crew.
“It’s not that we didna care before, laddie,” Scotty’s explaining, and it makes all sorts of sense. His fight-or-flight instincts had been totally forgotten hours ago. “Y’just wouldna let us get close. We care, y’know. But we didna know how t’ help, especially when you were so determined to convince us y’re a wee scunner.”
The gist hadn’t occurred to him. He frowns, but the words aren’t coming to him tonight.
More gently, Sulu explains, “Your actions spoke louder than your words, Captain. You may sound selfish, but you would’ve given your life for the Federation, for this ship, for your people. You may talk like you don’t respect relationships, but the number of your exes you’re on good terms with suggests otherwise. Should I go on, sir?”
It takes Kirk a minute to parse what had been said, another to realize, “Y’know, I’m pretty sure that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say.”
Hikaru just smiles.
“You do well at keeping others from seeing who you really are,” Uhura notes.
He makes a frowny face and then giggles about how he probably looks goofy. Especially in blue.
“I didn’t think you’d make a happy drunk, Captain,” their CMO joins them, amused, placing a goblet of what looks like wine on the table in front of him, and in a moment of endless maturity, Jim sticks out his tongue.
“You’re drunk,” he declares, as if it’s perfect logic, and looks around to find his First Officer.
Spock looks—no, feels—pained. “You are not drunk, Captain.”
He pouts, kicking his feet. “’M a bit drunk,” he admits, sitting a little straighter—ooh, maybe he can order cheese. Or mushrooms, or whatever edible fungi they have in this quadrant. Oddly enough, for all his allergies neither had graced the lists.
“We are, essentially, your family. Is that not correct?” Spock does look like he’s actually looking for an affirmation.
He wants to lash out, to cry, to hide, to run. He does none of those things, because Sulu puts a calming hand on his arm, and his amount of calm amusement that radiates general amusement at the world is relaxing. It’s a way of life he can get behind. “I—I’m not sure I’d know, honestly, but—the closest thing I’ve got to the things they write about, yeah.”
“You avoid intimacy. You fake being more inebriated in order to avoid conversations you do not wish to have,” Spock continues, accusing. Don’t lash out; he’s purposefully provoking you, probably so you’ll talk or realize something.
“I haven’t learned how to be something else,” he explains and smiles shyly at them. “I don’t have a lot of criteria. If they’re a woman, I’m more conventional—I like blonds, generally, although I’m not super picky. Guys I tend to experiment a little more, but…” He shrugs. “Intelligence, though, is probably my biggest turn-on. I also like sarcasm, especially when it’s directed at me, but part of it—not many people really care enough to tell me when I’m being dumb, especially when they also take care of me and support me. Sometimes they generally tell me I’m dumb, but…I don’t know, I don’t….if they don’t give me a way to fix it or are just going off of bad impressions, I don’t always know how to fix it.” He’s staring at his hands. He’s not sure when he laced them together. Sulu’s still got a hand on his shoulder, which is nice. Grounding. Years ago, they would’ve diagnosed him with…he’s not sure, some sort of learning or social disability, maybe. “I like talking with someone about the latest discoveries or even ancient tech. NASA’s awesome. I mean, ancient, completely outdated, but awesome. I’m pretty sure I got along so well with Gaila because we talked computer coding when we were done.”
They’re actually listening. It’s…well, he’s pretty sure it’s not normal. He’s not normal, and the way he talks about it can’t be, right? But then—maybe none of them are normal. It’s a startling revelation, but then, it shouldn’t be. Spock’s a child of two worlds. Chekov is the kid genius, and from how he reacts it’s definitely something that set him apart, not always in a good way. Scotty’s, well, the way they met him definitely gave some hints along that line.
“You’re all as weird as I am and you get that and you accept me,” he says out loud. He hadn’t meant to. He’s definitely tipsy.
From the fond smiles and the slight squeeze Sulu gives, maybe that’s why they like him, too. Because after as different as he is, how can he judge anybody else?
“I suppose that’d be something, too. Compassion, or whatever else you could call it. I mean, compassion overall, but.” He waves his hands. He couldn’t ever afford to be picky, really. Now that he’s being given the chance to articulate it, he doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to say. “Pretty, smart, kind? I guess?”
Scotty laughs, and he pouts again. “I’ve always just taken what the universe gives to me,” he says, shifting, and the amusement suddenly disappears. It’s not pity, either. It’s…sympathy?
“We’ll help you,” Uhura promises, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d like to try being romantic. I’ve never done that before. They’d have to be okay and work with being in Starfleet, and I’d like to be able to have them around on the ship if possible.” He shrugs.
They stop asking questions and start pointing out different people and generally getting to know him better. In the end, it’s not too embarrassing, and it’s nice getting on better terms with his crew.
