Transfiguration, Chapter 3 (Kirk/Spock, Star Trek XI AU)
Friday, July 24th, 2009 08:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snowlightSorry, short chapter. Chapter IV will be really long though. :)
Aside from our lovely beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
le_culdesac, a multitude of people have aided us in conceiving this gigantic project. It would not have been possible for us to write this without them. Our acknowledgments and notes are to be found in the master post. All future chapters will also be linked there.
As always, all kinds of feedback are appreciated. ^o^
Title: Transfiguration (Chapter 3)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Authors:snowlight and buoy
Rating: PG-13 (so far)
Status: WIP
Disclaimer: Kirk and Spock belong to each other, the story itself belongs to us, everything else belongs to Paramount.
Transfiguration
by Renata Lord (snowlight) & Ligeia (buoy)
One kind of splendor belongs to the sun, another to the moon, and still another to the stars.
—1 Corinthians 15:41
*
Chapter III
Kirk's new apartment is in Queens. And, to hear him tell it, in a building "close to the R train" (which really means "practically in the path of"). Luckily, these days Jim Kirk doesn't have the time to live in an apartment, only to sleep in it, so the noise isn't a great problem. Besides, it's in a reasonably safe neighborhood for a single guy, and it's pretty cheap. The landlady is a long-time parish member, and Father Pike had been the first one to hear her mentioning the apartment that was going to be available.
"So, what do you think?"
There doesn't seem to be much to think about. Most of Kirk's boxes—the few there were—remain untouched; furniture still obediently lining the luridly wallpapered entryway (where, Spock was sure, they have remained since moving day). That's all there is, really: a sofa chair, a futon bed, a fridge that came with the room, and a couple of boxes. Spock moves around carefully and looks about, stalling for time as he tries for a suitable compliment.
"It's...a very well-maintained apartment," he manages, stopping and taking a final surveying look around the mostly-bare room, which looks surprisingly clean for being the victim of a Jim Kirk party the previous night. He hears Jim coming up behind him, followed by a dull thud and a quick cursing in pain from the man surely stubbing a toe on one of the boxes.
"I'm glad you did not choose to celebrate your house-warming too prematurely," he adds, turning around and looking pointedly at the haphazard arrangement on the floor.
But almost as soon as he turns he gives a start; Jim Kirk is standing only inches away from his face, all bright eyes and indolent smile.
"I was hoping you'd come for me."
"Unlikely story."
He steps to one side to put some distance between them. Too close. There is a faint burning in his ears, which he attributes to Jim's encroachment of his personal space. The man seemed to insist on forging a tenuous boundary between friendship and something more with just about everyone. But that was just Jim being Jim—an unstoppable force pulling everything and everyone around him into his gravitational field, whether they like it or not.
So to hear the ringing laughter of several other voices accompany Jim when he called to decline the invitation earlier in the week was no surprise. In truth, he half-expected no answer to begin with, but after what seemed about a minute, Jim did pick up.
Jim's squeezing his way into the small kitchen now, and Spock hears the sound of the fridge opening.
"I mean it. Everyone was hoping to see you, too. Here, lemme give you a drink," Jim thrusts a cup enthusiastically into his face. "Gaila brought over some plum wine last night. It's pretty good. You should try it."
He frowns, trying to match up the name with a face. It sounds like a girl's name, but he never sees Jim with the same girl more than once or twice so it's hard to keep track.
"You know, Gaila Sakamoto? The half-Japanese girl? Red hair, a gazillion tattoos?"
"Ah, yes." She's in the same breakdance group as Jim, or something.
Spock takes the cup full of chilled dark red liquid—somehow it looks like blood, but this is hardly the Eucharist. Jim sits on the only sofa chair right in front of him, grinning in obvious, if somewhat suspicious, expectation. It's only a drink, he tells himself. Can't be any worse than who knows what else is in his fridge.
The wine goes down easy, its sweetness tempered with a slightly bitter aftertaste. He smiles in appreciation, only to be met with a smug "I told you so" face. Just as Jim is about to speak, a R train rumbles through and the clanging noise fills the room with an almost physical presence. He can tell Jim's laughing, though, and that makes the situation downright comical somehow.
"Gotta love the MTA!" Jim Kirk gestures towards the window after the sound dies down. "The people here are used to some loud noises! Last night we were playing Massive Attack on max, and nobody called the cops. Some neighbors even came by and joined in! It was awesome!"
He bites back a "I'm glad I wasn't there then" and continues with the wine instead.
"Man, you should have seen the place after the party was over," Jim chuckles. "I made Bones help me clean it today after work, just for you."
"I'm touched," he puts down the glass. "Where are you going to put everything?"
Jim shrugs: "What everything?" But he gets up from the sofa anyway and walks to the other end of the room, pointing to the corner with one foot. "I'm gonna put the bed over here, 'cos there's the hidden closet space."
"I see. Where did you sleep last night?" The futon bed still leaned against the wall.
"Uh, I didn't feel like sleeping in the middle of all that trash, so I went over to Bones' place. Did I tell you? He finally dumped that girlfriend of his."
Spock notices how he's not calling her "bitch" anymore. Probably just to avoid offending a man in the cloth, but a thoughtful gesture nevertheless.
"Do you want any help with setting things up?" He offers politely.
"Nah, I still have to sort the stuff out myself." Jim appears surprised, but the look soon melts into a grin. "You'd get freaked out by what's in these boxes anyway. But listen—uh, I really want to thank you guys. For everything."
He blinks, not accustomed to this humble version of Jim Kirk. "God brought you to us. He found you."
And here is that impish look he knows so well again. "Okay. But as far as I'm concerned, that night, it was you who found me." Kirk pauses a little, looking almost embarrassed by the admission. "And I'm glad that it was you."
Something churns in Spock's stomach. It's not an unpleasant feeling, but unsettling all the same. He sips on the wine, attempting to find refuge in irony. "I wish I could say the same."
"Hey!" Jim slaps his arm. "Come on now, Spock. Whatever will you do without me? Who's gonna mess up the office for you to clean if it weren't for me?"
He falls silent because they both know this, whatever this is, goes far beyond toppled stacks of paper and magically filled trash cans. For all his professed love for silence and solitude, there is something impossibly endearing about how Jim absolutely refuses to let him be alone or to let him go. But Jim doesn't believe in God. Whatever this feeling is—on Jim's side at least—it has nothing to do with loving all humanity because they are made in the image of God.
And there lies the unexplored territory, the ominous danger.
Jim beckons him towards the window and he obliges. Night has fallen on the city. In the far, far off distance, past the dull apartment buildings, lies the island of Manhattan. The Omega Tower exudes a vivid red light across the dark waters of the East River, incandescent like those rows of votive candle flames at the Immaculate Heart—a promise, a prayer.
And oh, how has he prayed, in all these years.
"Spock, what is it that you seek to find?"
He still doesn't know. Not yet.
Spock doesn't glance sideways when Jim lays a hand on his shoulder. Instead he raises the cup to his mouth, draining the last few drops. After a few moments of comfortable silence, another R train roars by the window, and the world is remade again.
Jim turns to him, blue eyes so clear they could only belong to a saint in a Renaissance painting.
"I won't be here forever, you know."
"Yes," he says softly.
The train has disappeared through a series of odd turns. From the windows of this fourth-floor walk-up little apartment, they watch the lights of the Omega Tower together.
*
End of Chapter III
Continues in Chapter IV
Aside from our lovely beta
le_culdesac, a multitude of people have aided us in conceiving this gigantic project. It would not have been possible for us to write this without them. Our acknowledgments and notes are to be found in the master post. All future chapters will also be linked there.As always, all kinds of feedback are appreciated. ^o^
Title: Transfiguration (Chapter 3)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Authors:
snowlight and buoyRating: PG-13 (so far)
Status: WIP
Disclaimer: Kirk and Spock belong to each other, the story itself belongs to us, everything else belongs to Paramount.
Transfiguration
by Renata Lord (
snowlight) & Ligeia (buoy)One kind of splendor belongs to the sun, another to the moon, and still another to the stars.
—1 Corinthians 15:41
*
Chapter III
Kirk's new apartment is in Queens. And, to hear him tell it, in a building "close to the R train" (which really means "practically in the path of"). Luckily, these days Jim Kirk doesn't have the time to live in an apartment, only to sleep in it, so the noise isn't a great problem. Besides, it's in a reasonably safe neighborhood for a single guy, and it's pretty cheap. The landlady is a long-time parish member, and Father Pike had been the first one to hear her mentioning the apartment that was going to be available.
"So, what do you think?"
There doesn't seem to be much to think about. Most of Kirk's boxes—the few there were—remain untouched; furniture still obediently lining the luridly wallpapered entryway (where, Spock was sure, they have remained since moving day). That's all there is, really: a sofa chair, a futon bed, a fridge that came with the room, and a couple of boxes. Spock moves around carefully and looks about, stalling for time as he tries for a suitable compliment.
"It's...a very well-maintained apartment," he manages, stopping and taking a final surveying look around the mostly-bare room, which looks surprisingly clean for being the victim of a Jim Kirk party the previous night. He hears Jim coming up behind him, followed by a dull thud and a quick cursing in pain from the man surely stubbing a toe on one of the boxes.
"I'm glad you did not choose to celebrate your house-warming too prematurely," he adds, turning around and looking pointedly at the haphazard arrangement on the floor.
But almost as soon as he turns he gives a start; Jim Kirk is standing only inches away from his face, all bright eyes and indolent smile.
"I was hoping you'd come for me."
"Unlikely story."
He steps to one side to put some distance between them. Too close. There is a faint burning in his ears, which he attributes to Jim's encroachment of his personal space. The man seemed to insist on forging a tenuous boundary between friendship and something more with just about everyone. But that was just Jim being Jim—an unstoppable force pulling everything and everyone around him into his gravitational field, whether they like it or not.
So to hear the ringing laughter of several other voices accompany Jim when he called to decline the invitation earlier in the week was no surprise. In truth, he half-expected no answer to begin with, but after what seemed about a minute, Jim did pick up.
Jim's squeezing his way into the small kitchen now, and Spock hears the sound of the fridge opening.
"I mean it. Everyone was hoping to see you, too. Here, lemme give you a drink," Jim thrusts a cup enthusiastically into his face. "Gaila brought over some plum wine last night. It's pretty good. You should try it."
He frowns, trying to match up the name with a face. It sounds like a girl's name, but he never sees Jim with the same girl more than once or twice so it's hard to keep track.
"You know, Gaila Sakamoto? The half-Japanese girl? Red hair, a gazillion tattoos?"
"Ah, yes." She's in the same breakdance group as Jim, or something.
Spock takes the cup full of chilled dark red liquid—somehow it looks like blood, but this is hardly the Eucharist. Jim sits on the only sofa chair right in front of him, grinning in obvious, if somewhat suspicious, expectation. It's only a drink, he tells himself. Can't be any worse than who knows what else is in his fridge.
The wine goes down easy, its sweetness tempered with a slightly bitter aftertaste. He smiles in appreciation, only to be met with a smug "I told you so" face. Just as Jim is about to speak, a R train rumbles through and the clanging noise fills the room with an almost physical presence. He can tell Jim's laughing, though, and that makes the situation downright comical somehow.
"Gotta love the MTA!" Jim Kirk gestures towards the window after the sound dies down. "The people here are used to some loud noises! Last night we were playing Massive Attack on max, and nobody called the cops. Some neighbors even came by and joined in! It was awesome!"
He bites back a "I'm glad I wasn't there then" and continues with the wine instead.
"Man, you should have seen the place after the party was over," Jim chuckles. "I made Bones help me clean it today after work, just for you."
"I'm touched," he puts down the glass. "Where are you going to put everything?"
Jim shrugs: "What everything?" But he gets up from the sofa anyway and walks to the other end of the room, pointing to the corner with one foot. "I'm gonna put the bed over here, 'cos there's the hidden closet space."
"I see. Where did you sleep last night?" The futon bed still leaned against the wall.
"Uh, I didn't feel like sleeping in the middle of all that trash, so I went over to Bones' place. Did I tell you? He finally dumped that girlfriend of his."
Spock notices how he's not calling her "bitch" anymore. Probably just to avoid offending a man in the cloth, but a thoughtful gesture nevertheless.
"Do you want any help with setting things up?" He offers politely.
"Nah, I still have to sort the stuff out myself." Jim appears surprised, but the look soon melts into a grin. "You'd get freaked out by what's in these boxes anyway. But listen—uh, I really want to thank you guys. For everything."
He blinks, not accustomed to this humble version of Jim Kirk. "God brought you to us. He found you."
And here is that impish look he knows so well again. "Okay. But as far as I'm concerned, that night, it was you who found me." Kirk pauses a little, looking almost embarrassed by the admission. "And I'm glad that it was you."
Something churns in Spock's stomach. It's not an unpleasant feeling, but unsettling all the same. He sips on the wine, attempting to find refuge in irony. "I wish I could say the same."
"Hey!" Jim slaps his arm. "Come on now, Spock. Whatever will you do without me? Who's gonna mess up the office for you to clean if it weren't for me?"
He falls silent because they both know this, whatever this is, goes far beyond toppled stacks of paper and magically filled trash cans. For all his professed love for silence and solitude, there is something impossibly endearing about how Jim absolutely refuses to let him be alone or to let him go. But Jim doesn't believe in God. Whatever this feeling is—on Jim's side at least—it has nothing to do with loving all humanity because they are made in the image of God.
And there lies the unexplored territory, the ominous danger.
Jim beckons him towards the window and he obliges. Night has fallen on the city. In the far, far off distance, past the dull apartment buildings, lies the island of Manhattan. The Omega Tower exudes a vivid red light across the dark waters of the East River, incandescent like those rows of votive candle flames at the Immaculate Heart—a promise, a prayer.
And oh, how has he prayed, in all these years.
"Spock, what is it that you seek to find?"
He still doesn't know. Not yet.
Spock doesn't glance sideways when Jim lays a hand on his shoulder. Instead he raises the cup to his mouth, draining the last few drops. After a few moments of comfortable silence, another R train roars by the window, and the world is remade again.
Jim turns to him, blue eyes so clear they could only belong to a saint in a Renaissance painting.
"I won't be here forever, you know."
"Yes," he says softly.
The train has disappeared through a series of odd turns. From the windows of this fourth-floor walk-up little apartment, they watch the lights of the Omega Tower together.
*
End of Chapter III
Continues in Chapter IV
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
You'd get freaked out by that's in these boxes anyway.
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 01:34 am (UTC)Anyways I'm off to get some plum wine. XD
FYI: it's bisexual porn.
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 01:36 am (UTC)And I'm pretty sure you can't legally drink. :)
LOL rly I've never seen one of those before.
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 03:28 am (UTC)Re: LOL rly I've never seen one of those before.
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 04:09 am (UTC)Re: LOL rly I've never seen one of those before.
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 01:38 am (UTC)This fic is so fun!
no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 03:12 am (UTC)Would love to hear what happened with Pike the first time he met Jim, too. :)
no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 03:13 am (UTC)Yeah, we will get there. That's Jim's backstory though...uh...I think it's like around Chapter VIII or something.
no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 04:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 04:08 am (UTC)But he'd never get through Spock just with that. And it's not a one-sided thing, either. That's why I'm looking forward to the next chapters. :D
no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 04:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 04:17 am (UTC)And OMG I love your icon. Daniel Craig!!!!!
no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 08:00 pm (UTC)And yay for Daniel Craig fans!
no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Saturday, July 25th, 2009 05:34 pm (UTC)不过我们的编辑小姐似乎卡在第四章上面了呢……汗
no subject
Date: Sunday, July 26th, 2009 11:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, July 26th, 2009 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, July 26th, 2009 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, July 26th, 2009 11:15 pm (UTC)