Middle Night Excerpt Meme

[browngirl]

I was going to wait on this for... no good reason, really. (If it's not a good reason at 1:35 AM it's not a good reason. The inverse, however, is not true.) Henceforth: Snagged from emiime, including her addendum.

Tell me about a story I never wrote, (eg, "The one where Chris Pike and Winona Kirk discover they had the same dream about George*.") and I'll write you a snippet from it. ETA my addition: from the rough draft. I contemplated writing these all and letting them sit a couple weeks like I usually do, and decided against it.

Snippets will be 100-500 words.

Rules:
1. One per person, please.
2. AUs and mirror!verse fics are okay.
3. As usual, het, slash, femmeslash, gen requests are all okay.
4. Your request should begin: "The one where..."

Standard rules apply, if you need to know if I know a fandom, just give me a shout and I'll let you know!

If you want something else, ask me about it, or just request it. If I'm not familiar with the fandom/characters you request, I'll ask you to prompt again!

Emi's addition: I make no guarantees that I will get to, or be inspired by, each and every prompt. But I'll try! ETA: Whee, okay, I really have enough now, thanks. ETAA: More polished versions here.

*: lomedet and tigerbright, this one's for you. Don't let me forget to include the making out.

Comments

[mardia.livejournal.com]

The one where Leah McCoy and Nyota Uhura had a conversation that lasted for more than two seconds. (Mirrorverse, please.)

[spikeface.livejournal.com]

Ooh! *tracks*

O prompt of glory!

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

"Of course, CMO on the Enterprise is an extremely enviable position," Lieutenant Uhura replies, which is entirely the wrong goddamn concession; Leah nods curtly and manages to resist the irritated impulse to blurt exactly how unenviable she's found it, but she can't keep her tightly pressed lips from curling, or hide her scowl by bending a little closer over Uhura's extended forearm. The Lieutenant just smiles serenely, and Leah swallows hard over the unsettled slosh in her belly and concentrates a moment on sealing the dermal layers back together as seamlessly as possible, taking refuge in the professional pride Uhura says she so admires.

By the time there's only the epidermis left to regenerate, the silence has started to congeal around them. For her, for this ship, Uhura is being downright friendly, so Leah searches for a polite friendly lie and rummages up, "It's an honor. I'm just trying to do my best."

"Which we all appreciate." Leah glances up from the fading red line along Uhura's forearm, and she's still wearing that little Mona Lisa moue, even more fucking terrifying than her usual icy stare. "As does the Empire." A chill pours down Leah's spine but she manages not to let herself shiver, and reminds herself in her mother's distant voice to be polite, goddammit, when for once Uhura's actually speaking to her like a human being for the length of an entire conversation.

Leah pulls her stiff face into an unfamiliar-feeling smile. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Uhura inclines her head, her smile widening in return as she adds, "Even the best position can be improved, though. Lightened duties, increased security..." She modulates the last word almost like a song, letting it fade in the air between them as she slips from the biobed, graceful as a cat, and flexes her arm as she looks over the repair. "Think about it, Doctor. And, thank you."

Leah nods acknowledgement and dismissal, her belly frankly rolling with unease as she watches Uhura stride away, then turns back to her wound repair kit. Something is off, above and beyond Lieutenant Uhura having a chatty moment, and as Leah's hands move through the familiar motions of clearing and packing up the kit she tries to make herself think through her persistent exhaustion, through the goddamned useless adrenaline surge roaring down her veins.

Then she gets it, and the feverish unease instantly chills to outright fear, cold sweat down the back of Leah's neck. Uhura was feeling her out, probing her loyalties. Determining who the CMO would side with if the Captain is taken down.

Or at least letting Leah think so, so she'll run right to Kirk and blab as much, playing into some further game she can't even fathom yet. Leah grips the edge of the biobed, tells herself she can't have a drink, and allows herself a moment to shake.

[azephirin.livejournal.com]

The one where Kirk, Spock, and Uhura get married in Vegas (or the equivalent).

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Nyota sits bolt upright and then wakes up. She can't remember anything from last night after the third drink, wedged between Spock and Jim, something tasting of fire and laughter spilling down her throat. Now the mattress gives plushly beneath her hands, softer than her Enterprise bunk or Spock's bed; there's a warm weight across her legs, a pointy nose pressed to her naked hip.

Spock faces her, sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, legs crossed and immaculately dressed in that high-collared black shirt Jim goaded him into buying and his uniform trousers, the severity of his outfit lightened by the smile in his eyes and his bare foot pressed sole to sole against a pale pink one. Nyota follows that foot to its long muscled leg, draped across hers, to the breathing naked man slumped against her side, Jim's arm around her waist, his face jammed against her hip. He's sound asleep. He smells like smoke and alcohol and sex and chocolate.

So does Nyota. She looks up from Jim sleeping like a child, wrapped around her, to Spock again, noticing the deep green mark peeking from under his collar. She opens her mouth, and shuts it, and opens it again as Spock just watches her, the smile in his eyes getting brighter and brighter.

Eventually Spock has mercy. "Good morning, spouse," he intones.

Nyota's mouth falls open again. Jim snuffles against her hip, and his mouth is open and hot and soft against her skin.

Eventually she manages to croak -- her throat hurts -- has she been screaming? -- "What?"

"Good morning," Spock repeats, counting out each word like a grain of gold. "My spouse."

"We got married?" Nyota's voice cracks like a pubertal boy's. Jim just keeps breathing distracting warmth, and she realizes that he's got her legs pinned, because she can't get the leverage to kick him.

"Indeed we did." Spock leans forward, climbing onto the bed in one smooth, economical movement. "Last night you were very adamant on the subject. Jim less so, but he expressed a willingness to do, and I quote, 'anything you want, babes, long as I get my dick sucked.'"

Nyota covers her face with one hand. "What on Earth -- well, on Risa, what could I possibly have said to that charming offer?"

"I admit, my recall of last night is not the clearest." Spock sits beside her, lifting Jim's leg like a bolster across both their laps and keeping gentle hold of his ankle. "But I believe you struck him, kissed him, and asked him to marry you, in approximately that order."

"Wait a minute." Nyota peeks through her fingers at Spock. "I thought I married you."

"So you did; we all three were married. Risan marriage laws admit any number of consenting adult participants."

Nyota gapes, at this news and because Spock's smile has spread to his mouth, until Jim makes a snorting kind of moan that is somehow still as frustratingly charming as he almost always manages to be. He drags his hand across her legs as he shifts a little, blinking his eyes open as he peers up at her. "Morming, sunshine," Jim burbles, patting her belly, wiggling his toes against Spock's forearms. "Who wants to get their hubby a glass of water before we get to the honeymoon?"

Nyota covers her face with both hands as she starts to laugh.

[libitina]

I loved the one where Uhura showed Spock Prime just what he was missing in his universe. I especially liked how squirmy and hot that made nuSpock feel and how that deepened their relationship, too.

Technically, it's not a threesome

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Since Jim Kirk's first improbable report of him, since she first met him, Nyota has thought of the soi-distant Selek as Elder Spock, or Spock The Older, or Spock From Another Timeline, some sort of relative to her Spock, an odd amalgam of uncle and twin. As she leans back against her Spock's broad tense chest, rising and falling with his careful breathing, she looks for and finds his clean lines in the craggy cliffside of 'Selek''s weathered face, the tiny flickers of warmth grown to a radiant, affectionate kindness as Selek regards her with his infinite eyes.

Still, he doesn't look like her Spock. But when she closes her eyes and three dust-dry fingertips settle into the meld points on her face, she startles at the jarring familiarity, because he feels like her Spock, the easy slide into her mind, the banked heat of him, the fractal comprehension and straightforward strength. He feels like her Spock, but not identical, further recesses, layers, dimensions, experiences and regrets and losses.

And, she notes wistfully, she doesn't feel that deep buried fire, her first confirmation that Spock -- her Spock -- loves her.

The Elder Spock gathers his presence together, slipping from her mind as smoothly as he entered. "I see," he says softly, and she opens her eyes to find her head bowed, to see his hands folded simply in his lap. "Thank you for allowing me to."

Nyota gathers herself, too, matching her breaths to her Spock's even pace until the rolling surge inside her quiets somewhat. "I can imagine a universe where we didn't love each other. But I'm glad I don't live there." Her Spock tightens his hands fractionally on her shoulders, a thousand words in the press of his fingers.

The Elder Spock smiles at her -- smiles! -- and in that unSpocklike gesture she sees her Spock most of all. "Nyota Uhura," he says, as warmly as anyone ever has, "I do not believe any such timeline exists."

[spikeface.livejournal.com]

The one where Leah tries to make a friend (I really want it to be Rand, but your choice), and Kirk finds out.

[spikeface.livejournal.com]

That was Mirrorverse, in case you didn't guess from the context -- and that it was me requesting, I suppose. ;-)

Influenced by the request just following.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Joanna's laughing, ponytail flying, feet off the ground as Kirk swings her around in circles over the grass. "Full impulse!" he shouts, spinning faster, and Joanna's wild giggles rise to shrieks of joy as Kirk dances her through the air.

Leah's laughing too, watching her daughter flying, feet kicking and face bright with life, watching Kirk whirl her, his hair catching the planetside sunshine. She feels her grin widen approvingly as she watches Kirk squeeze Joanna to her chest with his strong arms, until suddenly comprehension slams into her so hard she chokes. Joanna doesn't even know her father is dead, that Kirk killed him. She doesn't even know that he could kill both of them on a whim, and here Leah is laughing cheerfully as this murderous master of hers hugs her daughter.

She flings herself forward, reaching out, and Kirk looks up at her over Joanna's head. He tilts his head a little as one eyebrow goes up, glances down at Joanna and smirks, and Leah's belly clenches with that familiar chill she can never get used to. He kisses the top of Joanna's head as he puts her down, and Leah has to stand there and let him.

Joanna wobbles dizzily, arms extended, still laughing. Leah catches her hand and grips her shoulders, urgently asking, "You okay, Jojo? You had enough?"

"Whee!" Joanna answers, waving her head in a circle. "Whee, I want more!"

"No, baby, you've had enough," Leah tells her, and doesn't hear the sharpness of her voice until Joanna stops dancing under her hands to stare at her, confusion darkening her eyes.

"Aw, the kid's all right," Kirk says, with a heavy pat to Leah's shoulder; as she looks up at him, the light brilliant in his hair, his eyes glinting out of his shadowed face, he curves his hand under her arm and hauls her to her feet. "But your Mamma's right, that's enough," he tells Joanna, holding out his far hand as he wraps his near arm around Leah. "Let's go get some ice cream."

"Ice cream!" Joanna shouts, grabbing Kirk's hand and skipping on his other side like a lamb nestling beside a lion.

Leah can't reach across and grab her back. She halfheartedly grumps, "Empty calories, nothing but sugar and fat," and Joanna just laughs at her, piping and cheerful. Kirk laughs at her too, and squeezes her hard.




[It was this or the one where Jellico Academy Student Joanna shows her mother how to gut a taller opponent in one neat move, and that one didn't quite gel, alas.]

[graceandfire.livejournal.com]

Oh dear, we're giving you a lot of Mirror Verse Leah ones but...The one where Kirk makes Leah laugh in spite of herself (or the one where Leah's sick and Kirk is kind of nice to her--because, y'know, it's no fun being a bastard when she can't really appreciate it).

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

So there's this: http://rubynye.livejournal.com/472330.html?thread=6502154#t6502154

And also this.

The first thing Leah hears, when she claws her way to wakefulness, is, "Especially for a doctor, you can be really fucking dumb sometimes," in Kirk's 'pleasantly annoyed' tone of voice.

She takes a breath, and her chest immediately ejects it in a racking cough. She blinks open gummy eyes, and Kirk's sitting beside her biobed, legs crossed, a cup in his hand. "Wha'," is all she manages before she's coughing again, her chest feeling like steel bands are tightening around it.

Kirk waits, apparently patiently, until Leah rasps to a stop. As she gasps for air, the tightness easing off, he gently -- gently, she can't believe it -- pushes her hair back from her face, cupping her cheek. "Here," he says, and feeds her a piece of ice. It slips between her dry lips like a cool blessing, melting into a little puddle of peace on her sore tongue. Kirk feeds her another, and a third, and the whole time he just cradles her face, long calloused fingers shockingly light on her skin.

Just when she thinks regretfully that she should refuse the next ice chip, give her system a few minutes to catch up, Kirk pats her cheek lightly and says, "That should hold you for now." He looks at her a moment more, intently enough to make her prickle towards goosebumps, rising electricity like an approaching storm.

Then his face hardens, blue eyes going glacial, and Kirk furious will never not render Leah trembling, her guts tensely knotting. "The next time," he tells her, fingers curved to her cheek, thumb laid on her bottom lip, "you get so much as a sniffle, you will log your reports and remove yourself from duty. You will not continue working as your condition worsens, you will not collapse where you won't be found for over an hour, and you will not fucking nearly die." Leah's lip pushes against Kirk's thumb, she can't help trying to answer that, and he presses his thumb down hard across both her lips, holding her mouth shut. "I do not care how many casualties there are, what staff there aren't. You don't die unless I tell you to. That's an order, Bones."

He gives her just enough space to nod, so she does. He presses down on her mouth for another long moment as he starea into her face, then eases off.

Leah takes a slow breath, her sides twinging, and another, and a third. Only then does she ask, "What do you want with me? Sir."

Kirk barks a laugh, and gives her that wide bright smile of his, that looks to people who don't know him like sunniness and charm. "You're my favorite," he tells her, patting her cheek. "You don't go anywhere. Now get better already. Little Tiernan is trying her best, but she's just not you."

Leah can feel the growing tickle in the back of her throat, her eyelids getting heavier, so she just snorts and rolls her eyes. Kirk pinches her cheek as he withdraws his hand, smirks at her and stands up.

[rodneyscat.livejournal.com]

The one where Hikaru is helplessly proud of Pavel.

And lo, for I took your description literally.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Hikaru is frankly, dazedly surprised to wake up, and he's not at all surprised that everything hurts, threads of fire strung through his entire body as if all his nerves were incinerated inside him, his muscles crampishly sore and unstrung at the same time. Even his toes ache inside his boots, his lax fingers throb against the cool tiles beneath him. His chest aches on every shallow breath.

He's surprised, and then he's worried; his eyes won't open, all he can hear is a dull confused roar. He threw himself between Pavel and the pirate's weapon just in time to take that blast full in the chest, and all he can hope is that it was enough, that Chekov and Giotto got the captives to safety, even if he doesn't exactly like the idea of being left for dead.

Maybe that tingle means the Enterprise is to transport him. Or maybe it's just nerve damage. His toes twitch involuntarily, painfully; his fingers feel like a thousand pins are sticking them, and Hikaru thinks a thousand curses because he can't groan. The noise rises meanwhile in his ears, louder and louder, resolving into shouts and blast noises.

Hikaru's katana whistles overhead. He would know its sound anywhere. Another metallic whicker and someone screams, male and pained; a grunt, and the scream chokes off on a gurgle.

The prickling starts to fade from Hikaru's fingers. His eyelids throb and weigh a million kilograms each, but he can shove them open. He sees bright sky and a slender black leg, just as Pavel shouts, voice more steely than Hikaru's ever heard, "Put down your weapons and prepare to be taken into custody!"

The only answers are some snarled curses, but no more blast noises, and no sounds from the captives or the rest of the away team. Did Pavel's field-rigged EMP work? Where are Giotto and the girls? Hikaru's neck tenses as if it would turn if he wanted it to, but he catches himself -- he can't help right now, he could only be distracting-- and listens to Pavel shouting wordlessly, Hikaru's katana singing in his hands, another shriek and a heavy thump.

"Surrender or be destroyed!" Pavel actually bellows, no trace of reediness in his voice, and Hikaru's heart feels like it's glowing inside his chest. To think that when Pavel talked his way onto the team Hikaru had worried about protecting him.

[ninhursag.livejournal.com]

The one where Gaila had a nightmare and Jim surprised her.

The title for that was "The Last World's Past", right?

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Gaila jerks awake to darkness and quiet and her own soft bed. No rough floor, no jeering shouts, no bruising, pummeling hands all over her, no bright spotlight searing her eyes. It was just a memory, just a dream.

She can't breathe, but there's air to be had, and the only people she smells on it are herself and Jim. She draws a deep breath and blows it out, and only then hears another person breathing with her. She opens her eyes, murmuring, "Computer, lights."

"Ow," Jim says.

Gaila blinks at him as her eyes adjust. He's sitting beside her, one leg folded underneath him, one off the bed, just far enough away to give her a little space without looking like he's going anywhere.

He didn't go anywhere.

"Why are you here?" Gaila asks, sitting up, too surprised to be anything but blunt, and he gives her a smile that would've earned him tips and trinkets if he'd been where she was, before.

She's not there now, it was just a dream, and Jim's still here. "You know you talk in your sleep, right?"

He doesn't look annoyed, but she says, "I'm sorry," anyway. "Did I wake you?"

Jim shrugs handsomely, waving it off. "Nah, it doesn't matter. I just... I thought you might like some company when you woke up." He shrugs again, bouncing his foot against the floor. "But I can go if you don't."

Gaila doesn't want to be alone with just her memories, and Jim's proven himself to be pretty good company. "Get back in bed," she tells him, and watches his smile spread up to his eyes.

[dreamflower]

The one where Rosie Cotton saved Marigold Gamgee from an unpleasant encounter with a Ruffian only a few days before Sam got home...

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

It's the silence that saved them.

Rosie was laughing and Mari was laughing and laughter was all the sweeter in these dark days, but they both paused to catch their breath, and in the silence they heard a footfall in the garden's rustling meant to be stealthy though it thudded in their ears.

Rosie stared at Mari, staring round-eyed at her, and knew they thought the same, their hearts beating panicked as rabbits' as another step thumped down, then another. But Bagshot Row's little dwellings didn't have the deep cellars of Rosie's farmhouse, the pantry would be a trap. Where might they hide?

Rosie thought, and stood and caught Mari's hand. Quietly as they might, they dashed down the hall, Rosie leading Mari towards the lads' room, now disused. Sam's old bed stood there, almost a year empty, walled around with parcels and boxes and bags and mathoms.

Just as Rosie nudged one sack of cloaks and scarves aside, a heavy blow resounded from the door. Barely daring to breathe as a few specks of dust floated up, shaking with each bang at the door, Rosie and Mari silently tugged the bag aside, and Rosie pushed Mari before her, squirmed after and began pulling the bag back.

The Ruffian outside wasn't even calling for entrance. His only goal was to break the door and loot the house. Mari squirmed round, flat on her belly in the bed's dusty underfloor, and jerked the bag to so it fell across their hiding place, blocking all but a chink of afternoon light.

The door-latch gave, and the Man ducked in, cursing at the lintel, stomping through the house. "Little coneys," he crooned, voice deep and growling like a beast from a tale, "Little coneys, where be you? I heard you, here's your grub you've left, now where are you?" Mari lay shaking against Rosie's side, and Rosie clutched her hand; dust tickled her nose, so she breathed soft as she could through her mouth.

The Ruffian stomped the halls, pushing doors open, treading into every room. Rosie watched through the chink as his dirty boots paced past the open doorway of the lads' room, once up the hall, once back again. Her heart bounced against her ribs with his every call, Mari shaking till Rosie feared her teeth should chatter, as they clutched hand around hand and listened to him roam the Gamgees' smial.

At length they heard him snuffling and gorging in the kitchen, smashing crocks and cursing again, and banging the door as he left. Mari made to crawl forward but Rosie held her back, thinking the slowest song she knew as she waited, lest he stood just by the door waiting for them.

After that Rosie dared to whisper, "D'ye think he's gone?"

Mari drew breath to answer, and immediately sneezed.

[lazar-grrl.livejournal.com]

The one where Pike and Kirk set up Number One and Gaila, because life is short and they want them to be happy (and because Kirk thinks it would be incredibly hot. What? Just because he's with Chris doesn't mean he doesn't have eyes.)

Alas, I only have my notes for that scene

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

And they are:

Jim can't sleep despite the 'righteous dicking' he just got from Pike. Chris. Pike <-- brief digression on calling him Pike internally vs remembering to say Chris

Thinking. One, flight, freedom, Gaila. Meanwhile, squirmy, pillow under head, Chris's arm heavy over his waist, Pike growls at him for wiggling. Jim forcibly stills, Chris starts snoring, Jim thinks about One and Gaila. About One/Gaila. [Stereotypical fauxbian porn but not too awful since we should laugh at Jim, not hate him.] Starts getting hard.

Turns onto back and pokes Pike. 'I just had the most awesome idea.' Pike grunts. 'We should introduce One and Gaila.' Pike grumbles intriguedly. 'They would be SO HOT.' Annoying cute 'wake up and fuck me' Jim. Pike makes some pointed comment about insatiable pretty idiots who won't go to sleep [figure out Pikish phrasing -- c/f Leftarrow] and pets and kisses him.

[secretsolitaire.livejournal.com]

The one where Jim brings Bones flowers.

Because I could not resist

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Leonard's halfway through the second paragraph of the immunoassay evaluation when his attention jerks abruptly away from the discussion of colloidal gold vs. fluorescence to the fruity tones of a deliberately charming Jim Kirk. He can hear feminine giggles but not what Jim's saying, which is just as well; he really should finish this and decide on a design for the mass-produced assay before he lets himself take a dinner break. Which he told Jim. Three times.

Leonard's eyes unfocus a moment, remembering the third time, when Jim pushed his legs apart and knelr between them like he was making a goddamn marriage proposal. "But Bo-ones," he whined like the infant he is, "I'll miss you if you don't go!" And he'd smiled, that fucking gorgeous smile, until it took all Leonard's willpower to push Jim away (from between his legs, God lend him the strength he needs to deal with the kid) and shoo him away while Leonard finished this.

The giggles die away, the front door opens and shuts. But something's not quite right, the hair prickling on the back of Leonard's neck. He stops breathing, and hears someone else's stealthy inhale, the slight creak of a bootsole bending. "Dammit, Jim--" he shouts as he spins his chair--

-- and bites down on the rest of his tirade, as he's confronted by Jim and three bright-skinned, giggling girls with tumbling black hair and dressed cheerfully if sparingly in wisps of cloth. The tallest leans her pastel purple cheek against Jim's shoulder, while the bright fluorescent pink and shimmeringly opalescent blue girls advance on Leonard and plump themselves into his lap. "Hello-oo, Dr. McCoy," all three coo in unison, and Leonard can already feel his cheeks welling with hot blood.

"So, Bones," says Jim, insufferable as always, "Viola, Fuchsia, and Trillium here said they absolutely couldn't have dinner with even a starship captain until they'd met the physician responsible for keeping us all intact and healthy." The girls bounce a little on Leonard's lap, and they smell floral too, and sweet, and absolutely appetizing. "What do you think of him, girls?"

"Oh, he's so handsome!" says the blue one, messing up his hair.

"Such strong hands!" says the pink one, stroking his fingers.

"He absolutely must dine with us," says Jim's purple one, wiggling a little as Jim tightens his arm around her waist.

"Well, there you have it, Bones." Jim holds out his free hand. "After all, you're not going to disappoint these ladies, are you?"

[starsandgraces]

The one where Kirk and Sulu get drunk and argue about comics.

I thought of the opening line, and then...

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

"You know who else doesn't believe in the no-win scenario?" Jim rears up out of his seat and slams his hand down on the table.

The glasses tremble. Hikaru doesn't, slumped backwards in his chair, moving nothing but his face. "Besides an idiot-savant pretty boy captain?"

"Hence the else." Jim leans over the table, trying to supplement his loom with captainly gravity. This is important. "And you're one to talk about pretty boys, Hi-karu-karu-karu."

Hikaru rolls his eyes, swatting Jim's hand away from his hair before Jim even realizes he's reaching. "So, enlighten me about your fellow sufferer of delus-z-" He gets a little tangled up for a second, and the z-shaped 's' he stutters makes Jim giggle.

The way he crosses his eyes as if he could see his own tongue makes Jim roar with laughter and collapse across the table. "Batman!" he gasps out, his ribs aching. "Batman, Batman doesn't believe in the no-win. Batman has a plan for everything."

"Batman nothing," Hikaru scoffs, flourishing the glass in his hand. "Superman can knock him into orbit with one punch."

A woefully colorless sheen slops across its base, so Jim manfully ignores that base and untrue statement, for the moment. "Hey, you're empty," he says, grabbing the bottle and gesturing with it. Hikaru's eyes open up wide, dark and intriguing and okay alcohol tends to make Jim kind of horny, but this is an important discussion they're having. He fills Hikaru's glass, spilling only a drop or fifteen, and gives his a top-up slosh, puts the bottle down as carefully as Bones could ever wish him to, and says, "Also, you are wrong. Wrongity wrong. With wrong sauce. And a wrong cherry. A cherry so wrong it can't even be popped."

Hikaru squinches his face into a moue. "You're drunk, Captain," he informs Jim rather primly, then knocks his glass back. No wonder it keeps being empty. His throat bobs kind of biteably, but Jim gets twin sinking feelings, that if he tried it that might be some kind of bad that ended up with Hikaru kicking his ass or demanding a transfer or both, and that if he tries to move he'll fall off the table and maybe out the viewport.

So he just grips the table with his free hand and says, "Yeah, so? I'm still Jim and you're still wrong. Batman could take Superman any day. He could totally make Supes his bitch anytime he likes. He's got plans."

"And Superman can fly," Hikaru counters; then his face smooths out as he murmurs, "fly," again, and he looks all dreamy and reverent, like he does sometimes at the helm. Jim wonders if he looks like that other times too, and makes a mental note to get Checkers all liquored up and ask sometime. And another not to call his wunderkind navigator 'Checkers' to his face.

Hikaru's eyes refocus into a sharp glare, and Jim realizes he's been caught staring. What was the last thing he said? Flying, yeah. "So?" he counters, good and truculently. "Batman can fly, too-ooo." Hikaru narrows his eyes into sharp slivers of suspicion. "His cape can become a -- a glidey thing. I saw it once."

Hikaru actually growls, which is so hot Jim might have just moaned a little, maybe. Hikaru doesn't notice, since he's too busy slamming himself to his feet, swaying somewhere between a wobble and a dance. "That's not the same at all!" he cries, launching himself at Jim. The table goes over with a giant resounding crash.

By the time Chekov and Bones come running in, suspiciously soon afterwards, Jim and Hikaru have dragged each other from the wreckage and are laughing on the floor, wrapped in each other's arms.

[anodyna.livejournal.com]

The one where Spock has to babysit a bunch of 5 year old Vulcans, and he takes them on a field trip. I laugh every time I think about that one!

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Oh, God, that's so flippin' cute, and I really think I am utterly unequal to the task.

[savvierthanu.livejournal.com]

Ahhhh! Am I too late? Well, just in case I'm not:

The one where McCoy and Pike sit around getting drunk while complaining about Jim. Or maybe complain about Jim while getting drunk. And then they make out.

Oh, but this one is fanart

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

I have been considering this one, with great glee, since you posted it, but all I keep seeing is just the static image of Pike laughing and leaning in as McCoy gesticulates with his non-beer-bottle-holding hand. It's a *gorgeous* image, but I can't quite hear the dialogue!

If I manage to hear the dialogue, I will totally transcribe it.

[lomedet.livejournal.com]

*bounces excitedly*

And a quarter-century timestamp on "Light, Inaccessible"

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Pike is rightning his arms around Winona's waist, sinking into the silky wetness of her mouth, when she shuts her bright-hard teeth on his bottom lip and rears back on a sharp shocked noise. "Holy shit," she gasps as he struggles to make his willful fingers pry loose, "you taste the fucking same."

Pike opens his mouth, bottom lip throbbing hot against his cool indrawn breath, but it takes a moment to sift through his spinning brain for adequate words. Meanwhile he braces his hands on her supple waist -- with Winona sitting on his lap, that's all the compromise his eager fingers will grant his conscience -- and eventually produces, "I don't recall previously being so fortunate as to kiss you."

Winona laughs, bright and high and eerily familiar. "Flatterer," she snickers, her grin shining sharp above his upturned face. "No, I just had this dream once, you and me and George--"

And the memory slams into him, knocking away his years and accomplishments and scars. "-- Observation deck of the Kelvin, I never actually went aboard but it was absolutely real--" Her eyes widen, concentric white, ocean blue, sky black. "You were so real."

"George was so real," Winona murmurs, her lips pink and creased and moving low in his sight, below her shocked eyes as they stare at each other.

Pike knows his must be just as wide, can feel his eyebrows trying to launch; they were mourning the same man in their very different ways, it's reasonable they would have dreams on similar themes, but that doesn't explain this strange familiarity, how he could almost chart a quarter century of minute changes against a memory he shouldn't credit of Winona in his arms.

Winona swallows, firming her grip as she slides her hands down over his biceps, as if comparing him to her own impossible memories. "Nine months after?" she asks fiercely, as if they could possibly have dreamed simultaneously.

They did. Pike cannot believe it, he triple-checks his own remembered timeline of that crazy transformative year, but it adds up until he has to nod. "I was doing outlines on the dissertation."

"Jim was such a fussy little bad sleeper." Winona shakes her head, silvery-blonde hair tumbling from the bun he wrecked in his eagerness. "I -- fuck it, I'm too sober for this." She grabs for the bottle and upends it in a piratical swig that reminds Pike with helpless incongruity of her son even as her arched back pushes her bobbing breasts into his face.

It's not the first time a Kirk's brought him an impossible truth, and if Jim manages to survive these five years it's unlikely to be the last. Pike nuzzles Winona and she splutters a laugh, swinging the bottle down past his ear as she grips his head with strong fingers, and Pike gives in to the scho of memory as she tips his head back, licks liquid flame off her cheek and sighs when she growls as she kisses him.

[jamjar.livejournal.com]

The one where there were Kirk has the genderswitch trait, the ability to switch genders, something unusual but not unknown on Earth.

Because I just got done with a serious genderswap: a little crack.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Leonard looks up into the mirror and drops his beard suppressor, which promptly disintegrates all over the sink. He can barely notice the spray of small electronic shards against his bare chest and abdomen, not when he's staring at the reflection of a tall blonde woman with an ear-to-ear grin of shining mischief below sparking blue eyes he'd know anywhere and above a long sleek neck and gracefully slanted collarbones.

He turns around, and his jaw falls like the shaver, because she's got breasts like ripe swells of joy and sweeping curves to kill for, long hands planted on her wide hips above long sleek sturdy legs. She looks three-dimensional and tactile and too goddamn hot for a tired doctor to deal with on an ordinary underslept morning.

And she's Jim, Leonard knows it, even before she crosses the bathroom in two long hip-swinging, breast-bouncing strides to slide one finger under his jaw and shut his mouth. "Good morning to you too, Bones," Jim says with perfectly familiar obnoxious cheer, and smacks his shoulder as bruisingly as ever. "Guess I don't need to ask if you like it."

[gingicat]

Okay, I'm greedy, but...

The one where Alan meets his first grandchild. Which one of his daughters-in-law have the first child is up to you.

(And yes, that's a spoiler for the season finale, in that there are two daughters in law.)

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

"Alan?" Robin calls, and he dries his hands on a dishtowel as he turns to her. She has one hand laid high on her belly and one bracing her back, and for a moment with the sun behind her she reminds him of Margaret, laughing and wincing forty-five years ago.

But Robin's hair and her profile and her narrow, proud smile are all her own, and as Alan reaches to pull out a chair for her his twinging hip reminds him how long ago that was. She settles into it gratefully, pushing the other chair out with her foot, so he sits facing her, and she reaches out to grasp his wrist.

He forgets sometimes how strong she is. He's reminded now as she tugs his hand over and sets it on her belly, saying, 'feel this.'

A little bump rises under his hand, a squirming ridge. Alan presses down and his grandchild presses back, not realizing he's holding his breath until his chest starts to tingle, and when he looks up Robin is smiling as brightly as he's ever seen her.

[joyshine.livejournal.com]

I really, absolutely adore the one where Character A realizes that one of the most wonderful things about Character B and PossiblyCharacter C is that they can take whatever s/he can dish out - no matter how much s/he struggles, they'll still be holding her. That her passion/needs/fears won't break them or scare them. That s/he doesn't have to be afraid to let go, with them.

An algebra problem of love.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

But which story was it, my bright eyed lady?

***

Neal is mortally certain that's it, that this is the time Peter will yank out the handcuffs, will flip out his phone and call the prison, will wash his hands of Neal once and for all.

Except that Peter just stares at him, as they both breathe, as Neal waits for Peter's eyes to thaw until he realizes they never hardened.

***

Spock catches Jim's wrist easily, grip like a manacle of sun-warmed stone. "You will not damage yourself further," he says, voice quiet and implacable. "The Enterprise needs her Captain whole." Nyota's arms slide around Jim from behind, she presses her cheek behind his heart and he can't hold it anymore, he can't breathe, he starts to shake, and Spock continues, "As do we."

***

"Just-- just --" Steph can't even choke out 'go the fuck away', but she knows Tim can hear it in the choke of her voice, the scuff of her boots as she sprints away, as she flings herself off the roof, already sobbing. She flies blindly, swinging across the tear-blurred Gotham sky by sheer luck, hits the ground and rolls and stumbles and drops to her knees.

A gentle hand lands on her shoulder, not pressing, just touching, and Steph knows it's Tim's thigh she's leaning her forehead against as she cries.

***

(Tribute/sequel to this story which greatly impressed me.)

The next time Pike jerks taut on an adrenaline flare, whipping around fist-first, his hand swings eight centimeters past One's nose. She stands there, calm and collected as if he didn't just nearly fucking hit her and he's caught between punching himself and roaring at her because now she knows what he could do --

--until she arches one precise eyebrow, and reports, "Nearly a decimeter. I think you pulled that one."

***

"Jason," is all Bruce says, something naked and raw in his voice, and Jason stops and turns around.

[leftarrow.livejournal.com]

Eep. Am I too late for this? *has been sort of distracted from proper flist love*

How about . . . The one where George Kirk and Cadet Pike pulled that prank where they took all of the chairs (and assorted other-kinds-of-seating) out of the Tucker Hall auditorium overnight and re-assembled them in their exact configuration on the library lawn. I think that was the one where they got distracted making out halfway through, and Winona saved the prank AND their dignity by showing up at just the right moment to appreciate their inappropriate hotness AND distract campus security . . .

(Ok ok, I'm asses at prompts, I'll stop now. But I see them all laughing so much during this story, being beautiful and young, that now I'm sort of in love with it . . .)

Warning: Abuse of Shakespeare, multiple edits

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Never too late, brighteyes. :) Though I fear you remember just a smidge optimistically.

* /*\ *

Chris's laughter is the absolute cherry on George's sundae, his victory hymn for this mighty accomplishment. As Chris gasps and wheezes, doubling over until he nearly bangs his forehead on the float pallet, George thrusts his arms over his head, turning in a slow circle as he surveys the entirety of Tucker Hall's seating laid out in neat, precise rows on the lawn, every chair and bench its horizontal distance from the lectern beside him down to the cm. Allowing for the uncertainty of grass, that's pretty good.

George whoops into the sleeping-or-studying night air, which makes Chris emit a choking kind of panicky noise; before he can start worrying again, or swallow his own tongue, George trots three steps and pats Chris on the shoulder. "Behold our valor, Pike! Our mighty accomplishment!" Chris merely hiccups out a doubtful noise. "We shall tell this tale in many a party and bar, from this night until the ending of the world!" Chris giggles, sharp and high and downright sweet. "Cadets and ensigns now abed will think themselves thrice-damned they were not here!" Chris falls onto his ass, howling with laughter, and this is more fun than George's had while dressed in months. "And hold their hijinks cheap while any speaks who dissasembled Tucker Hall on this completely random day!"

Rolling around, holding his belly, Chris tips his head against George's thigh. His curly-haired, solid, laughter-vibrating head. George hears himself make a little throat-closing noise of his own, and Chris looks up, along the plane of George's thigh, his laughter-crinkled eyes going wide and pale as the Moon above them.

George looks down at Chris through the sudden silence, his heart clanging like a bell. He thought he thought of Chris like a kid brother, a bundle of potential fun just needing to be pried from his studious shell. But Chris stares up at him, lips softly parted, cheek against his thigh, and he doesn't look like a little brother now.

A wisp of evening breeze brings them the distant sound of a security hovercar. Chris's eyes go impossibly round, white all round his shining irises, but he doesn't move. George should, and can't.

Much nearer, someone coughs, and snickers. George knows that snicker. He turns, and Winona stands at the other end of the West Aisle, clearly, clearly keeping herself from laughing. She's been teasing George about Chris's supposed crush for months, and now she's going to be absolutely, gorgeously insufferable.

"Win!" George calls, waving, as Chris scrambles back like George's leg just burned him. "Here to witness our great deed?"

"Here to save you from Security, you decorative dolt," she says, sauntering down the path, moonlight shining on her hair. George takes a breath and a moment to consider how lucky he is, then turns and grabs Chris's arm before he can escape. Chris sets his mouth in a flat line that's going to be formidable someday, George can already see it, and George just grins at him until he, if not quite relaxes, stops tugging away.

Winona arrives, tucking herself under George's arm. "Winona, hi," Chris says nervously, and when she smiles at him he actually does relax.

Then she raps George's shoulderblade with her knuckles. "Would you move already? Or are you waiting to get caught? Because if you are I'm grabbing Pike and making a break for it."

"Not until you tell me if you really think I'm pretty," George says, because by the engine noise and their customary velocity security's at least thirty-five seconds away.

"I think you're lucky you are," Winona says, and pinches George's ass. He yelps and jumps obligingly, and Chris shakes his head as he helplessly starts laughing again.

[leftarrow.livejournal.com]

Also, for the love of all flailing, THERE IS SO MUCH AWESOME HERE, I don't even know where to start.

*seconds 3/4ths of the prompts*
*likes the remaining quarter*
*squees and stares at the filled ones*

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

*beams* Oh, this is a very nice confidence booster after my recent writing travails. And it's a delight to hear so from you, o creator of amazingnesses (don't think I didn't see what you've posted recently).

[lita-of-jupiter.livejournal.com]

The one where Winona Kirk met Galia and Bones, Pike and Spock!Prime were overprotective and Uhura learnt to appreciate Jim, or how Spock and Scotty walked in on Kirk sandwich

OTP: Galia/Kirk/Bones

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

This looks like it would be a romp and a half.

The scene I'll write from it, if I get a chance, would be Winona and Gaila, getting somberly drunk and trading their personal experiences of the Narada. If I get a chance I'll try to come back and write it, and at the least I've noted down the idea.

And the last, from my files.

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

The one where, after Spock Prime informed Nu!Jim of his BFFs with benefits relationship with Kirk Prime, Nu!Jim, Bones, Spock and Uhura had to disentangle and follow all the threads of destiny, attraction, and love to end with Jim timeshared between Bones and Spock-and-Uhura.

Re: And the last, from my files.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

"You," Jim says, slowly at first but speeding up like an oncoming disaster, "are, jealous, Leonard H. McCoy! Bones, you're jealous! Of Spock and Uhura!" He whoops, voice arcing high with incredulity, as Leonard glares at the padd in his hand. Maybe it'll do him the favor of exploding so they won't have to have this misbegotten conversation.

Besides... "Bones," Jim wheedles, drawling out his nickname, and Leonard scowls defeat at the resolutely intact padd. "Bones, you know I love you best, right?" He's pitched his voice at the syrupy tones appropriately used on a recalcitrant child.

Leonard growls, flinging the padd down to the accompaniment of Jim's bray of laughter. "It's not that, goddamit," he snaps, staring at the floor, his hands, anywhere but at Jim beside him. "It's..."

The admission sticks in his throat. Jim slides a foot forward, softly asking, "What?" his voice lowering until it eases apart a knot in Leonard's chest. What is it?"

"Elder Sp-- Selek. The Older Spock. Whatever we call him. He --" Leonard sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. "He told you that you and Spock -- our Spock -- Uhura's, anyway, and yours I guess, that you and he were fated, or something. And I just..." Leonard trails off on a defeated shrug, all emptied out.

Jim inhales on "Ah." There's a beat, or three, during which Leonard's cheeks burn like a bonfire and he fervently wishes for the floor to part beneath him and dump him out into space. Then Jim pats his shoulder, a few levels softer than his usual slap. "Hold that thought."

Leonard looks up to see Jim diving inexplicably for the console. "Dammit, Jim, what in the Sam Hill are you doing?"

"Dropping a line to Old Spock," Jim says, typing furiously, leaned over with his butt in the air. Of course. "I need to ask him permission."

Leonard's stomach starts to fall and boil at the same time. "For what?" he asks, voice strained with dread of the answer.

Jim looks over his shoulder and his eyes go wide; he hits the last three keystrokes without looking, but Leonard can barely watch see for the sweet, true smile Jim gives him, the look that convinced him to try this whole semi-committed relationship thing again after his marriage burned down like a bombed house, the one he never can help but believe. "To tell you, Bones," Jim answers, "what he said about you."

[claudia603.livejournal.com]

The one where Frodo runs away with Halbarad...:)

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

O, Claudia, j'adore. *grins*

Would it be all right if it were a temporary running-off, an extended tromp through the woods? I'm not going to write this right now, but I'm thinking about it for the next time I do a silly ficlet meme.