The Cornfields of Iowa [1/1]
Jun. 23rd, 2009 06:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
geenowayTitle: The Cornfields of Iowa
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vamplover82
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: G
Summary: While on an away mission, Kirk gets homesick.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek, and this certainly isn’t true.
Author notes: Comments and con. crit. are much appreciated. Written as a comment fic for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
st_xi_kink.
Kirk never expected to be homesick for Iowa, and he’s surprised to find that he is. His mom was hardly ever around, and his stepdad never really gave a shit about him. His friends, who had seemed so cool at the time, were all criminally-inclined thugs who stuck together for lack of anyone else to be around rather than out of actual friendship.
So it's kind of a surprise to find that he misses it. Not the people, really, but the place. He remembers summers as a kid, spent playing outside, the smell of fertilizer thick in the hot air (not that he particularly misses the smell, though). He remembers when he first got his bike and just took off, with no care for anything beyond the wind whipping through his hair. It had been glorious just to drive down the deserted highway, seeing nothing but corn and a few farmhouses. And he remembers his last look at it, the emptiness stretching out behind him toward the skyline as he climbed into the academy shuttle.
He doesn't miss it all the time; truth be told, he hardly ever misses it. But sometimes something will remind him of it, like the planet they'd most recently stopped at. It hadn't even been anything big, just some kind of food that looked remarkably like corn, and then he couldn't help thinking of it.
By the time he gets back to the ship, he doesn't really want to talk to anyone and is just glad he managed to get through negotiations without showing how he was feeling. Although he should probably check in with the bridge before heading to his quarters, he doesn't; he's sure Spock has it under control anyway, and he can be reached easily if necessary.
He doesn't even bother to change out of his uniform, lying down on his bed and curling into himself, letting his thoughts drift. It isn't long before he hears someone at his door, and though he doesn't really want to, he tells them to come in. He starts to make an effort to sit up and look presentable, but when he sees that it's Bones, he just sinks back down again.
"You alright, Jim?"
Jim should have known that Bones would be able to tell that something is wrong; he almost always can. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Jim doesn't think that would have fooled anyone, and he's not surprised that it doesn't fool Bones. Bones comes over and lies down behind him, spooning up against his back and putting an arm around his waist.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Jim pauses, trying to decide. In the end, though, he does. "Just missing home, I guess." And then he starts telling Bones stories about home, things he got up to as a kid, memories of good times with his mother, pretty much anything he can think of.
It's nice, though, to be able to talk about it. It's even better when Bones responds with his own stories of home, especially the ones involving his daughter. Though the stories are tinged with a hint of sadness, it's easy to tell how happy Bones had been then.
When Bones finishes a long, involved story about a crazy birthday and there's a lull in the conversation, Jim finally turns around so that they're facing each other. He doesn't know exactly when he started to feel better, but it's true nonetheless. He slides his hand up to rest against the back of Bones' neck and leans forward until they're kissing softly. And the funny thing is, he suddenly feels like he is home.
Author:
vamplover82Pairing: Kirk/McCoy
Rating: G
Summary: While on an away mission, Kirk gets homesick.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek, and this certainly isn’t true.
Author notes: Comments and con. crit. are much appreciated. Written as a comment fic for this prompt at
st_xi_kink.Kirk never expected to be homesick for Iowa, and he’s surprised to find that he is. His mom was hardly ever around, and his stepdad never really gave a shit about him. His friends, who had seemed so cool at the time, were all criminally-inclined thugs who stuck together for lack of anyone else to be around rather than out of actual friendship.
So it's kind of a surprise to find that he misses it. Not the people, really, but the place. He remembers summers as a kid, spent playing outside, the smell of fertilizer thick in the hot air (not that he particularly misses the smell, though). He remembers when he first got his bike and just took off, with no care for anything beyond the wind whipping through his hair. It had been glorious just to drive down the deserted highway, seeing nothing but corn and a few farmhouses. And he remembers his last look at it, the emptiness stretching out behind him toward the skyline as he climbed into the academy shuttle.
He doesn't miss it all the time; truth be told, he hardly ever misses it. But sometimes something will remind him of it, like the planet they'd most recently stopped at. It hadn't even been anything big, just some kind of food that looked remarkably like corn, and then he couldn't help thinking of it.
By the time he gets back to the ship, he doesn't really want to talk to anyone and is just glad he managed to get through negotiations without showing how he was feeling. Although he should probably check in with the bridge before heading to his quarters, he doesn't; he's sure Spock has it under control anyway, and he can be reached easily if necessary.
He doesn't even bother to change out of his uniform, lying down on his bed and curling into himself, letting his thoughts drift. It isn't long before he hears someone at his door, and though he doesn't really want to, he tells them to come in. He starts to make an effort to sit up and look presentable, but when he sees that it's Bones, he just sinks back down again.
"You alright, Jim?"
Jim should have known that Bones would be able to tell that something is wrong; he almost always can. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Jim doesn't think that would have fooled anyone, and he's not surprised that it doesn't fool Bones. Bones comes over and lies down behind him, spooning up against his back and putting an arm around his waist.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Jim pauses, trying to decide. In the end, though, he does. "Just missing home, I guess." And then he starts telling Bones stories about home, things he got up to as a kid, memories of good times with his mother, pretty much anything he can think of.
It's nice, though, to be able to talk about it. It's even better when Bones responds with his own stories of home, especially the ones involving his daughter. Though the stories are tinged with a hint of sadness, it's easy to tell how happy Bones had been then.
When Bones finishes a long, involved story about a crazy birthday and there's a lull in the conversation, Jim finally turns around so that they're facing each other. He doesn't know exactly when he started to feel better, but it's true nonetheless. He slides his hand up to rest against the back of Bones' neck and leans forward until they're kissing softly. And the funny thing is, he suddenly feels like he is home.
