0Title: Bring Out the Sun
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: Some days are better than others. Kirk’s crew wants to ensure he has at least one good day.
A/N: Gifting a response to kcscribber’s fic, Living in the Shadows. A recommended read! Kirk wants to be good to his crew in tough times; lucky for him, they feel the same. Healing starts with a helping hand.
This was a fun challenge because, honestly, how do you add to something already perfect?
That Jim Kirk does not celebrate his birthday is no secret, at least not anymore. First Bones knew, then Spock, and slowly but surely others who have grown close to him came to know—if not understand and empathize with, even—his thinking on this matter. To Jim, the day he was born will never feel like an opportunity to be proud or grateful. He won’t invite throwing a birthday party aboard ship or off ship, remotely via comms, and any other typical way that a birthday is acknowledged.
That he has people around him who respect his preference is, well, deeply moving on all on its own.
The day in question draws to an end with the slight dimming of the opaque window pane stretching the length of the outer corridor.
Jim has not been abjectly morose today, despite it also being one of his newly established mental health days. On such days, he is not required to put on an act of feeling okay or forced to interact with others. Apparently, the patented Kirk Fake Smile is so offensive now to his people that they are liable to embarrass him on the spot by asking him if assistance is needed in dealing with whatever has Jim acting strangely.
When it’s a confrontation with McCoy, a hypospray will magically appear in the doctor’s hand, who will say in the most calmly threatening voice, “How does a nap sound, Jim?” Kirk lives both in awe of and horror over the fact Bones’ instincts regarding his moods are as refined as the man’s surgery skills.
Maybe Bones has been learning some telepathy from their resident Vulcan. Jim should investigate that possibility because the thought of Spock and Bones becoming a mind-reading team is more terrifying than falling into a den of starved Fang-Gnashers, the rodent-like species favored by Fibonans as a tactical surprise during skirmishes. Jim, at least, managed to survive those giant vampiric bastards!
Jim admits that he cannot bullshit indiscriminately like he used to. As long as only a select few individuals are aware of that, he guesses he won’t panic about it.
The soft warble of his personal comm alerts him to the approach of intruders to the observation lounge.
Don’t want you gettin’ all skittish, Jim was informed by his chief medical officer at the onset of this new ritual, and rudely disappearing.
Out of habit, Jim asks the ship’s computer to display the chronometer on the wall. It confirms his suspicion. Time’s up.
Or rather, this year’s birthday can be officially laid to rest.
As if on cue, the door to the lounge whistles open, admitting two distinct figures.
“You look kind of peaky” is how one of them greets Kirk. “Have you eaten?”
Jim nearly strains his facial muscles to stop the knee-jerk reaction of grinning. “Is this a test of integrity, Bones? Everybody knows you monitor my meal card.”
“Verbal confirmation that you don’t always take care of yourself properly is a part of your treatment plan.”
Jim prefers to forget that condition in the plan’s fine print.
The second visitor interrupts their petty arguing, no doubt to prevent the purpose of the gathering from being completely derailed. “As disappointing as it is to hear of the captain’s lack of nourishment, I would remind you both that the situation is to be imminently rectified. Although, to satisfy your concern, Doctor, you are most welcome to personally feed him.”
“Spock,” gripes Jim, “whose side are you on?”
Bones rolls his eyes. “I’m not spoon-feeding Jim like he’s an infant, even when he acts like one!”
“Rude. Curb the insults, you two, or I will take a walk.”
“Sorry, but you know that’s not allowed. You only get one day to be alone.”
Jim tries not to show just how that reminder soothes his scraped pride. Instead, he hums as he leans back on the short couch. “Back to ship’s business, then.”
Bones not-quite winces as Spock angles his head slightly, that frank Vulcan gaze suddenly and deliberately skating past Jim’s.
“Not yet,” is all Bones cares to elaborate.
Jim looks between the men with dismay, able to sense an undercurrent and wondering what they have been up to for his second-in-command to actually look shifty.
Eyeing the distance to the door, Jim imagines he will have to execute a very quick and limber duck-and-run maneuver to successfully avoid Spock’s nimble nerve-pinching fingers. But his body aches at the mere thought. No one prepared him for feeling like an old man in his thirties, to the point that even a basic tuck-and-roll becomes downright unappealing. What if he embarrassingly pops a knee out of joint while dodging?
So he’s stuck then, and at the mercy of whatever these two brilliant people have decided is good for him.
“Well,” he says as if he hasn’t considered prematurely ending their plans for the day, “are you taking me to dinner or what?”
“Breakfast,” corrects McCoy. “Happy Day After You Were Born, Jim.”
“Ugh, what a terrible title.”
“My second choice was Happy You’re Still Alive Day.”
“That’s worse. Spock, put your mighty Vulcan brain to use and save us from Bones’ awful naming sense.”
“The second choice was my suggestion,” Spock deadpans.
They’re teasing him. Maybe.
Jim rises to his feet. “Does this breakfast include a splash of whiskey in my coffee?”
As Spock and McCoy trail their captain to the lounge’s exit, Spock remarks a little too serenely, “An exception can be made today.”
Jim cuts a look at the men behind him. Oh yeah, they’re up to something. Luckily, Jim is not above convincing one of them to flash their hand. It would certainly make the meal ahead more entertaining if he can piece the play together without their being aware of it.
When they meet his gaze and hold it, he realizes his prying is fully anticipated.
When did becoming a commanding officer equate to becoming so well-known? And why isn’t he, the maverick James Tiberius Kirk, more miffed at the thought of being predictable?
Because no one has the right to understand him better than his best friends. Well, he shouldn’t disappoint them, should he?
With a lopsided smile, he asks, “So all I can expect is breakfast?”
“And decent company,” points out Bones. “Do you need more than that?”
Jim turns into a passageway, the quickest route to the turbolift. “Maybe we should swing by the bridge—”
“You are not on duty for another six point four hours.”
Jim stops walking. “Commander, are you suggesting a captain shouldn’t check on his ship?”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “I dare not. I simply feel it prudent to remind my captain that his particular enthusiasm for surprise check-ins is not necessarily shared by the beta-shift bridge crew.”
Bones laughs. “Yeah, remember the last time you popped up there at midnight? They’re still having heart palpitations over it!”
Jim should feel indignant, but mostly he’s confused. “I’m just the captain. What’s so alarming about that?” He adds in a mutter, “Almost makes a man feel not wanted.”
Bones’ expression sobers. “No need to get so morose. It’s not a mark against you that this ship runs a shift of junior bridge officers who aren’t ready to operate under a chief commander’s scrutiny.”
“Indeed,” Spock intones, “the purpose of beta shift is that of ‘a confidence builder’—Dr. McCoy’s turn of phrase, naturally.”
Jim gives them a moment’s quiet contemplation before shaking off the ‘morose’ feeling. Those thoughts were yesterday’s and have no place for the likes of today. Especially this day.
If he cannot take a few minutes to regain his equilibrium between the armrests of the command chair, then he will settle for the second-best option: riling up his favorite people.
He grins. “Meaning, for the next six hours you are my sole entertainment. Change of plans, then, Gentlemen.”
“But breakfast—”
“Can wait another hour, Bones. Hey, what do you remember about the Excalbia resort?”
“You mean before I passed out from altitude sickness? Only you rappelling down a very sheer cliff like a maniac.” Bones eyes him cautiously. “I’m not going to like your new plan, am I?”
Jim hums noncomittally and swings into the turbolift. His companions slide in next to him just as the door snaps shut. He can see the proverbial wheels turning in their heads. Spock is most likely sharing some of McCoy’s concern.
Jim lets the silence stretch just to the point of awkwardness. Then he says breezily, “You might want to alert whoever was scheduled for the rendezvous in the officers’ mess that we decided to relocate.”
Bones glares at the side of his head. “Damn it, Jim.”
“Where are we relocating?” asks Spock.
“Holodeck,” Jim says. “I’ve seen my share of bars, but not a saloon in the Old West.” He chuckles. “Bones, what’s that look for? Aren’t Southerners just genteel cowboys in disguise?”
“Spock and I—and yes the others, damn your intuition—were hoping for a quieter affair than drunken carousing and fist fights.” Bones pokes a finger into his ribs. “Today’s less about you, you know. We get to be happy you’re with us and be obvious about it.”
Jim does know. And while he is certain he hasn’t hidden too well how desired that makes him feel, he is not yet ready to verbalize the sentiment.
He will be reminded that he can’t imagine working together with anyone else; that this unwavering loyalty from his people, rather than being for the institution paying their salaries, is all his; that he, Jim Kirk, a neurotic Iowa farm boy, finally belongs in the center seat because he found a crew who wants him there.
His officers, his friends. Family.
“He’s speechless, Spock.”
“I am not,” Jim retorts, aware of how keenly they are observing his reaction. “I am debating if I relegate you to saloon bartender so you don’t spoil the experience.”
This causes McCoy to narrow his eyes. “Dream on, kid. We both know if I’m not stuck to your side, you’ll get in some damn-fool trouble.”
Jim smirks. “Bones, you know it’s Spock’s job to keep me on the straight-and-narrow.”
“I think not,” the Vulcan says.
Both Kirk and McCoy turn in surprise to stare at Spock. The turbolift announces its arrival at the holodeck level.
“I have taken annual leave for this holiday, however informal it may be,” Spock informs them primly. “I only intend to watch Jim do ‘whatever the hell he wants’.”
Jim gets a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I can do whatever I want…?”
Bones looks quite unenthused by this breaking news. “You annoying Vulcan! You can’t just decide to put a pause on being a stickler for protocol!”
“I have.”
“My god,” says McCoy with finality, shouldering his way out of the lift and to the nearest wall intercom.
“He’s calling your girlfriend,” Jim observes. “Did you tell her you’re leaning towards chaos today?”
“Nyota understands that some chaos is inevitable.”
Jim can’t help but laugh. He claps the Vulcan on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s program in an override to the holodeck’s default safety settings. Gotta be quick so Bones doesn’t catch us at it!”
Spock gives him a look that a human would accompany with a sigh of exasperation. “I do desire to see another day, Jim.”
Jim smiles. “So do I, Spock. We live for tomorrow. That doesn’t preclude us from having fun today.” His glance at McCoy holds fondness. “It’s my Happy I Have Good Friends To Keep Me Going Day.”
“A respectable name,” approves Spock softly.
“And worthy of celebrating,” Jim finishes. “Uh-oh, Bones has that pinched expression—he’s looking this way! I believe speed-walking is in order, Mr. Spock.”
“Agreed, Captain.”
As Kirk and Spock make haste for the holodeck, McCoy’s voice rings along the corridor to the effect that it’s in their best interest to wait for him.
His special day, decides a pleased Jim Kirk, is off to a promising start.
Related Posts:
- Follow Me Dark – from November 30, 2023
- Say a Little Prayer – from November 10, 2021
- Twist and Take – from October 31, 2021
- Clear from the Battle (But Not the War) – from October 11, 2021
- Consider Me Accounted For – from October 3, 2021
