kirktastic: ((Sleep - Troubled) No rest for the weary)
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Slowly Kirk dragged his exhausted body back towards the room he was temporarily sharing with Bones'. He didn't even realize it at first that he was - the three were no longer having an orgy in the room next to his, so his own was free again - but it felt right. He wanted his friend out of sickbay, dammit. He wanted... he wanted...

He knew what he wanted. He wanted to find warmth again, curled up against the scent of whiskey and earth and medicine. That simple and easy moment they had had before, something that had been, just for a second, perfect.



"I'm a fucking coward." He whispered to no one. Carefully he slid a hand through his hair, then without a care, started peeling himself out of his clothing. He dropped it to the ground, hesitated, then just shoved it down the laundry chute. He had another one folded up in his bag, anyway.

He plodded into the shower, standing in the cold water in silence with the thoughts racing in his mind. So much had happened in the last two days... so much he wasn't ready to process. So much he didn't want to process. Just so much he wanted to forget.

He wanted to forget the sight of seeing Bones broken and bleeding, dying in his arms.

He wanted to forget the feeling of having someone else in his mind.

He wanted to forgot the smile shared between Spock and his counterpart.

But in the end, he just shoved all of that down and got himself clean. Nude, he walked over to the bed, determined to drop into it like a sac of --

"Huh?" He said with some surprise, reaching down and grasping the scrap of paper sitting on the pillow. He read it slowly, blinked, then read again. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his head hanging for a moment before he rubbed the palm of his heel into his eye. A headache was throbbing, his skin was tingling from the still-healing burns and the shower on it, and his whole body was sore from the away mission. And this.. this...

He knew how Bones felt, or at least, the best guess he could manage. He knew the problem was on him entirely. He'd never let himself get into any relationship, and this wasn't just some random girl or boy. This was Bones for fuck's sake. This was... so much more. He never felt like this about someone else.

"Fucking hell." He read the note again, then folded it, walking over to his bag and hiding it within. When he woke up, he had more then he wanted to do. He wanted to talk to Spock - HIS Spock - and ask several questions about all of this mind crap. Spock hadn't sounded very sure that he could learn how to do this stuff, but well, he'd give it a shot if the Vulcan would teach him.

Right now? That pillow? It was calling his name.

Kirk wouldn't even remember hitting the pillow.

Date: 2009-08-04 02:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kirk-george.livejournal.com
George stopped by the room after he was done with Jim, to check on Jim, carrying a small meal. Bones had sounded pretty worried about his boy.

Date: 2009-08-04 02:58 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kirktastic.livejournal.com
There was no response when the buzzer sounded.

Date: 2009-08-04 03:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kirk-george.livejournal.com
George tried one more time. If Jim didn't answer. George would hope that he was sleeping.

Date: 2009-08-04 03:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kirktastic.livejournal.com
All George would hear is a dull thud as a pillow came flying across the room and hit the other side of the door.

Kirk never even woke up.

Date: 2009-08-04 04:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kirk-george.livejournal.com
George smiled. He'd come back in the morning with breakfast.

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James T. Kirk

January 2020

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