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asimaiyatTitle: "Sentimental"
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Jim Kirk/Gaila
Rating: PG, no warnings apply
Summary: Gaila helps Jim do some unpacking.
AN: I took hat-themed prompts for National Hat Day because I am just that eccentric. This was originally forrubynye's prompt "Jim picks out a hat for Gaila, who finds the concept weird." But then it went off in its own direction.
I imagine the "Cadet cap" as looking a lot like this.
Gaila had not known Jim Kirk for very long -- neither of them had known anyone at Starfleet Academy for very long -- but he had said to her that "baby, when it comes to you I've got an open-door policy," and she had no reason not to take him at his word. So when she found herself longing for warmth on a windy October afternoon, she felt perfectly comfortable showing up at Jim's dorm room unannounced.
When she let herself in, though, he was not stretched out casually on his bed as he had been in the pin-up illustration provided by her imagination, but sitting on his knees on the floor, staring at a large cardboard box.
"Jim?" When she first got his attention, his face flickered between a few strange expressions before settling on a sort of vague smile. Something was not right, she could tell.
"Hey there, Gaila. What can I help you with today?"
"I just came by to talk," she lied, sensing that if she offered sex, he would take it happily, but it would somehow endanger the fragile potential of their friendship. Sex and friendship seemed to intersect in such strange ways on this campus; she hoped that once she'd found out what was wrong, they could at least exchange some kisses and comforting backrubs, under Jim's favorite plaid flannel comforter. "What's in the box?"
"It's from my mom," he said, handing her a letter. Hand-written, in a clear, boxy print:
Dear Jim,
I was glad to hear that you hadn't died, and had just run away and enlisted in Starfleet instead. It's funny to think of you on the Academy campus. I'm not sure why, but the image of you in one of those ill-fitting red uniforms, strutting across the quad, makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I never wanted to pressure you to follow in George's footsteps, but I guess maybe it's just programmed into your DNA. Anyway, I was feeling sentimental (obviously), so I went and dug out this box of George's old things from when we were cadets. Who knows, you might get some use out of them.
Stay out of trouble!
~Mom.
Gaila bit her lip. Jim had told her about his father, over drinks one night, laughing although nothing he'd said was funny. She could understand why he was reluctant to open the box, why it was safer and easier for it to be just a box, for just a little longer. But she also knew that there was no way that he'd leave it that way forever, so why not get it over with quickly? She unceremoniously flipped open the top and peered inside.
Jim leaned back, pressing his weight into his wrists, and watched as she extracted a faded red cadet jacket, made of a scratchier material than the one she wore but otherwise more or less the same. It looked like it would fit a man just slightly bigger than Jim, she thought; slightly broader in the shoulders. She ran a hand down the sleeve as she handed it to him, watching his eyes narrow a little and his nose flare.
Next, she lifted out three yearbooks, one after another. She'd seen yearbooks before, in old dramas, but she knew that the Academy had discontinued them more than a decade ago. She didn't open them, but Jim did, thumbing through the glossy pages, pointing out pictures of his smiling young parents whenever they appeared.
Some of the things in the box were trash, as far as Gaila could see -- spent replicator cards, keys that didn't seem to go to anything, a pair of gym socks. Jim seemed to appreciate the text padds which, despite their scratched-up screens and faded keypads, apparently had all kinds of interesting notes scrawled in the margins. Jim touched everything with the broadest parts of his fingers, as if he could feel some invisible fingerprints coating the surface. His sentences were short, spare, and Gaila didn't feel comfortable responding with more than a nod or a hum. As they went, they set everything on the floor around them, not addressing the question of where anything was going to go.
The last item in the box was wrapped in faded tissue paper. Gaila took it out and handed it to Jim, frowning. He set the tissue aside and held out an object that was unfamiliar to her at first, cadet red and made of stiff but soft-textured wool, shaped like a sort of stylized cylinder with a concave top. It was... pretty, in an unfamiliar way.
"Huh," said Jim. "Cadet cap. I didn't know those were still issued in Mom and Dad's day."
"Cadet cap?"
"Yeah." Jim reached out, over the empty box, and placed the Cadet cap on Gaila's head. He squinted at her appraisingly. "Wow, you look awesome."
Gaila reached up to touch the cap, surprised that it seemed to fit snugly on her head, her curls springing out underneath. "I've seen things like this in old holos, but I don't think I... get the point?" Trying out a new phrase. "Where I come from, you put jewelry on your head sometimes, but never clothes. Terrans seem so interested in finding new ways to cover up!"
"Hey, it gets cold on Earth sometimes! I mean, in some places. It does here. But yeah, I haven't seen a picture of anyone wearing one of these in the last, I dunno, fifty years. Maybe they were issued as a symbolic thing? Or maybe Dad got an old one in a store or something."
"This... keeps you warm? But it's so small! It doesn't even cover my ears!" She tried to pull the hat down over her ears, and Jim reached out and caught her hand in his warm one.
"Tell you what, why don't you hold onto it for a while and find out?" He kept his eyes right on her face as he smiled, bright and real. "I think it suits you a lot better than it would me."
"You think I should wear this?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Definitely! You can rock it. The whole retro-future-ironic offworlder in vintage Starfleet gear look." He waved right hand around vaguely, which she had learned was Jim's language for I believe I am making sense even if it doesn't sound like I am. "And it totally brings out your eyes."
"If people laugh at me, I'm going to tell them it's yours," she laughed.
"Deal." He placed one hand along the side of her face, and used the other to shove the empty cardboard box out of the way so he could lean forward to kiss her. It was a simple kiss, mostly lips, not too artful or too passionate. There was friendship in it, she thought with muted surprise. "Thanks," he whispered into her hair so low that she wasn't even sure she heard it, and then his hand slid down her neck and she took him by the shoulders and led him towards the bed, pushing aside the flannel comforter.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Jim Kirk/Gaila
Rating: PG, no warnings apply
Summary: Gaila helps Jim do some unpacking.
AN: I took hat-themed prompts for National Hat Day because I am just that eccentric. This was originally for
rubynye's prompt "Jim picks out a hat for Gaila, who finds the concept weird." But then it went off in its own direction.I imagine the "Cadet cap" as looking a lot like this.
Gaila had not known Jim Kirk for very long -- neither of them had known anyone at Starfleet Academy for very long -- but he had said to her that "baby, when it comes to you I've got an open-door policy," and she had no reason not to take him at his word. So when she found herself longing for warmth on a windy October afternoon, she felt perfectly comfortable showing up at Jim's dorm room unannounced.
When she let herself in, though, he was not stretched out casually on his bed as he had been in the pin-up illustration provided by her imagination, but sitting on his knees on the floor, staring at a large cardboard box.
"Jim?" When she first got his attention, his face flickered between a few strange expressions before settling on a sort of vague smile. Something was not right, she could tell.
"Hey there, Gaila. What can I help you with today?"
"I just came by to talk," she lied, sensing that if she offered sex, he would take it happily, but it would somehow endanger the fragile potential of their friendship. Sex and friendship seemed to intersect in such strange ways on this campus; she hoped that once she'd found out what was wrong, they could at least exchange some kisses and comforting backrubs, under Jim's favorite plaid flannel comforter. "What's in the box?"
"It's from my mom," he said, handing her a letter. Hand-written, in a clear, boxy print:
Dear Jim,
I was glad to hear that you hadn't died, and had just run away and enlisted in Starfleet instead. It's funny to think of you on the Academy campus. I'm not sure why, but the image of you in one of those ill-fitting red uniforms, strutting across the quad, makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I never wanted to pressure you to follow in George's footsteps, but I guess maybe it's just programmed into your DNA. Anyway, I was feeling sentimental (obviously), so I went and dug out this box of George's old things from when we were cadets. Who knows, you might get some use out of them.
Stay out of trouble!
~Mom.
Gaila bit her lip. Jim had told her about his father, over drinks one night, laughing although nothing he'd said was funny. She could understand why he was reluctant to open the box, why it was safer and easier for it to be just a box, for just a little longer. But she also knew that there was no way that he'd leave it that way forever, so why not get it over with quickly? She unceremoniously flipped open the top and peered inside.
Jim leaned back, pressing his weight into his wrists, and watched as she extracted a faded red cadet jacket, made of a scratchier material than the one she wore but otherwise more or less the same. It looked like it would fit a man just slightly bigger than Jim, she thought; slightly broader in the shoulders. She ran a hand down the sleeve as she handed it to him, watching his eyes narrow a little and his nose flare.
Next, she lifted out three yearbooks, one after another. She'd seen yearbooks before, in old dramas, but she knew that the Academy had discontinued them more than a decade ago. She didn't open them, but Jim did, thumbing through the glossy pages, pointing out pictures of his smiling young parents whenever they appeared.
Some of the things in the box were trash, as far as Gaila could see -- spent replicator cards, keys that didn't seem to go to anything, a pair of gym socks. Jim seemed to appreciate the text padds which, despite their scratched-up screens and faded keypads, apparently had all kinds of interesting notes scrawled in the margins. Jim touched everything with the broadest parts of his fingers, as if he could feel some invisible fingerprints coating the surface. His sentences were short, spare, and Gaila didn't feel comfortable responding with more than a nod or a hum. As they went, they set everything on the floor around them, not addressing the question of where anything was going to go.
The last item in the box was wrapped in faded tissue paper. Gaila took it out and handed it to Jim, frowning. He set the tissue aside and held out an object that was unfamiliar to her at first, cadet red and made of stiff but soft-textured wool, shaped like a sort of stylized cylinder with a concave top. It was... pretty, in an unfamiliar way.
"Huh," said Jim. "Cadet cap. I didn't know those were still issued in Mom and Dad's day."
"Cadet cap?"
"Yeah." Jim reached out, over the empty box, and placed the Cadet cap on Gaila's head. He squinted at her appraisingly. "Wow, you look awesome."
Gaila reached up to touch the cap, surprised that it seemed to fit snugly on her head, her curls springing out underneath. "I've seen things like this in old holos, but I don't think I... get the point?" Trying out a new phrase. "Where I come from, you put jewelry on your head sometimes, but never clothes. Terrans seem so interested in finding new ways to cover up!"
"Hey, it gets cold on Earth sometimes! I mean, in some places. It does here. But yeah, I haven't seen a picture of anyone wearing one of these in the last, I dunno, fifty years. Maybe they were issued as a symbolic thing? Or maybe Dad got an old one in a store or something."
"This... keeps you warm? But it's so small! It doesn't even cover my ears!" She tried to pull the hat down over her ears, and Jim reached out and caught her hand in his warm one.
"Tell you what, why don't you hold onto it for a while and find out?" He kept his eyes right on her face as he smiled, bright and real. "I think it suits you a lot better than it would me."
"You think I should wear this?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Definitely! You can rock it. The whole retro-future-ironic offworlder in vintage Starfleet gear look." He waved right hand around vaguely, which she had learned was Jim's language for I believe I am making sense even if it doesn't sound like I am. "And it totally brings out your eyes."
"If people laugh at me, I'm going to tell them it's yours," she laughed.
"Deal." He placed one hand along the side of her face, and used the other to shove the empty cardboard box out of the way so he could lean forward to kiss her. It was a simple kiss, mostly lips, not too artful or too passionate. There was friendship in it, she thought with muted surprise. "Thanks," he whispered into her hair so low that she wasn't even sure she heard it, and then his hand slid down her neck and she took him by the shoulders and led him towards the bed, pushing aside the flannel comforter.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-12 12:10 pm (UTC)She could understand why he was reluctant to open the box, why it was safer and easier for it to be just a box, for just a little longer. But she also knew that there was no way that he'd leave it that way forever, so why not get it over with quickly? She unceremoniously flipped open the top and peered inside.
I LOVE GAILA. This is so brilliantly her.
He waved right hand around vaguely, which she had learned was Jim's language for I believe I am making sense even if it doesn't sound like I am.
I love Jim, too, and this is so very him.
*squeezes you tightly* I adore this.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-15 03:34 pm (UTC)