smartass_captain | Scientific Progress goes 'Boink'

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Scientific Progress goes 'Boink'

There's a message stuck to a door, last door on the left of a certain apartment complex in a certain New York. It's replicated paper, definitely a different sort of feel to it than one would expect in 2013.

Paper isn't the preferred message delivery device in the 2250s. Replicated paper and replicated ink.

Clint

Head to my place when you get this. Bring Ver.

Bones knows you're coming, he'll get you where you need to go. Don't bring your bow, we're not leaving home.

See you soon hopefully,

Jim

((Feel free to post without me until you guys actually get through the door to the Enterprise. I'm stuck in training/meetings and won't have another solid break for 2.5/3 hours from now. Will post actively after that time.))

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Jim is wiped.

He seems to brighten even more once Verity is off into the bathroom. It's like he knows that no one can tell him he's full of shit now. If only Jim knew how wrong he was.

"I worked two alpha shifts in between the work I had Scotty and Chekov helping me with on that drive. That's a hell of a lot of coffee. None of it good." Jim snorts and flops down onto his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Lights, 25%." And the lights dim. Shiny. Ohhhh man. Not-sleeping may not be an option. His bed is really nice, you have no idea. So is the couch, Clint. Starfleet knows its crews tend to run long loooong shifts. "I know it's two years out, but...I wanted to give you as much time as possible." Pause.

"And I was hoping I'd be able to magically save verity's world, too."

She's only brushing her teeth. She left the door open. She heard all of that.

If he didn't want her around to call him out on this stuff he shouldn't have adopted her.

Having done his share of long shifts, Clint can guess at which ballpark Jim is on the brink of passing out in. He's been there, has a season pass even.

"Yeah," Clint admits with a sigh, "yeah, so was I. Thanks for tryin', man, and I'm not gonna give up 'til it's over, but... yeah."

They should make forever passes for people like them. People that haven't had a good night sleep since they were kids unless they were drugged out or knocked out.

"Thought I was gonna be sick when it dawned on me there was just no way." Jim's voice has gone quiet, a murmur of guilt he knows isn't his fault. He still feels that way though.

"FYI, if you hear an annoying sort of whistle from my terminal, I'm getting a comm and you should wake me the fuck up right away. I usually catch it pretty quick, but.."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you." Look who's back, back again. She's leaning in the doorway, watching the two of them and rubbing her thumb hard into her palm. "That's why I freaked out when you were pushing. I didn't want to burden either of you with this."

She is so tiny to try and carry such a burden. "You two are big damn heroes. You feel like you have to fix things or die trying."

"Hey." Clint greets her return with a wave. "I'm glad you did. An' I don't mean for me. Anything's harder, doin' it alone. You got no idea how strong you are, Verity."

"...Well, We pushed because we worry about ya. And care." It's the truth. Jim makes no remark on the hero comment. He can't deny she's right because she'd know.

Sometimes that power of hers throws Jim off. Not being able to lie to the people he cares about most because he cares about them makes dealing with things hard.

"...An I got mad because you're right." Mumble mumble, he smiles as Clint takes his turn in the bathroom. "Want one of my non-reg shirts for pajamas?"

She steps aside so Clint can go in, giving him a little head shake. She's not strong. Strong wouldn't have ended up freaking out in the middle of the forum. Strong wouldn't have walked away from her bae when he needed her.

"Your answer would probably let me sleep at night," she admits. "Yeah, something to change into would be nice. Thanks." Nooobody's going to get the wrong idea about this, not at all. Although it's probably not the strangest way Spock's ever found Jim. "If we're doing this on the regular I'll bring some of my jammies next time."

Is future toothpaste awesome? Clint's gonna find out. And he'd love to have the whether-Verity's-strong-or-not argument, but it seems to be all happening in narrative, so there's not much to say.

She's doing it in narrative because her newly adopted brothers would tackle her to the bed and tickle her until she admitted she was strong. Or punched them. either or.

Future toothpaste is disappointingly recognizable. Everything tingles a little more though. It's better at its job. Verity gets tossed one of Jim's civvy long sleeve shirts. If anybody does walk in it WILL be the strangest thing Spock/Bones has ever seen. Jim's clothed, there's a girl--clothed. And another guy--clothed--on the couch. They'll think he's gone crazy.

Luckily people just don't walk into the Captain's quarters. Usually. Spock knows his captain's override code though. how the pointy eared bastard found out Jim will never know. If Bones gets it too he's switching numbers. Nattering hens.

She's doing it in the narrative because they're supposed to be getting Jim to rest, not starting another fight. It can wait until everyone's had some sleep.

"Thanks." She gives Jim a pointed look until he turns around before she changes. Sure, she could do the locker room change where layers and wriggling mean nobody really sees anything, but she'd rather not risk it. It's a good thing Jim's tall and his shirts are long enough to cover everything.

Once she's changed she sits on the bed next to Jim, reaching out to stroke his hair like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Hey there. Where do you want me?"

Oooh, tingly! It's like there's a party in his mouth, and someone spilled soda on the floor.

Clint gets back just in time to hear that question, and manages through the practice of working with the Black Widow for years to keep a straight face and not snicker at the accidental innuendo. For his part, he'll settle in on the couch and try not to make much noise.

The only thing faster than Jim's mouth are his eyebrows rocketing toward his hairline.

"However I can get you, obviously." He is not very bright in this regard. Or able to defend himself all flopped back on his bed like he is.

You don't get to be quiet, Clint. Either Jim's antics or squawks of pain are cause for much amusement.

"S'weird seeing someone else in my shirt." And a first, actually. Awkward mornings after aren't a thing he does. "C'mon, make yerself comfy. For all the crap you give Clint I'm really not sure how the good officer would react if he saw this."

She doesn't get it. Give her a minute...

There we go. Huff. Whap. "You really do have a one-track mind, don't you?" But he's not getting rid of her that easy. She'll lay down beside him and try to figure out how to do this with someone who isn't Loki-shaped. Her head on his shoulder and an arm across his chest? She's used to being the little spoon. This is weird.

"None of your legions of lovers ever tried on your clothes? I thought wearing home someone else's shirt was a badge of honor. Maybe it was just those sorority girls at college..."

"Gotta admit," Clint puts in, having had a good laugh at Jim's self-wrought misfortune, "there's really somethin' about seein' someone special walk around in your shirt and not much else."

It's good to be out of Verity's smacking radius.

Ah, That explains it then.

"Never had someone special." And holy shit that's true. In fact, Jim seems a bit unsure of where to put his hands or anything else for that matter, so he just lets Verity situate them however she likes.

"You guys want me t'leave the lights on dim like this or shut em off? If you gotta get up you can always just tell the computer to put them back on. Like this. Lights, 10%."

And it's almost all dark.

"We good here? Having our first family sleepover?"

"You'd better be talking about Jessica." He's not out of sass range. Nobody ever really is.

She's quiet while she arranges Jim's arms so they'll be cozy but not too close to anything sensitive. Fortunately, she has an expanse of back that's safe territory. "You will when you're ready." She's such an expert on these things, they should always listen to her about this stuff.

And then she's making this quiet little humming sound. There's no melody or anything, it's just happy. "This is nice. Family is nice."

"I could be talking about Bobbi," he points out. "We only got divorced back on... uh, Valentine's Day."

"She's right," Clint adds. "Like the song says. Y'can't hurry love."

Settling back on the couch, he gives a contented sigh. "Dark's nice. Better'n streetlights comin' in."

Jim stays quiet and lets the sound of his friends drifting off wash over him. This is probably the weirdest night he has ever had. A woman he will never sleep with is in his clothes sharing his bed using him as a body pillow.

His goddamn alternate reality supergreat grandpa is crashing on his couch.

Jim falls asleep to the thought of 'what the hell am I even doing' crossing his mind.

What he's doing is getting beat. Starving. Watching friend and family alike die in the Purge. Sometimes Sam's face is among the dying, staring up at him with accusing, dead eyes.

Sometimes it's his crew. His Aunt.

Tonight it's Clint, a makeshift bow splintered and broken over his lifeless body. And arms snaking their way around him. Smothering him. Choking him. He's next.

"No!" Jim's pulling and flailing at the hands around him, blindly panicking as he rips himself free from the strange embrace. How had he let someone get so close? His breathing is irregular, eyes wide and unseeing as he shuffles to the far side of the bed, nearly falling off in his hurry to get free.

Verity whimpers softly when Jim starts to fight her, and then she's awake, sudden and confused. Where she is doesn't matter much once she realizes Jim's upset about something, and she lets him go without a fight.

"Jim? What's wrong?" She doesn't try to touch him, much as she wants to; she knows it's not likely to help right now. He wanted away so he'll have his distance. "Jim. It's me. It's Verity."

"We're here, Jim," Clint calls, sitting up. "It's a dream, you're safe."

Shit, there were more?!

Jim topples off his bed with a reverberating thud , hyperventilating and making low whining noises in the back of his throat as he curls up. He's not on Tarsus. This he's dimly aware of. It's not Iowa either.

Oddly enough, it's the gentle hum of the Enterprises's engines through the floor that brings him back to reality and wakes him up properly. He's in his quarters. There's no one there to hurt him.

And he just made a huge scene in front of Clint and Verity.

Oh, hell.

Verity leans over just enough to be able to see him, not wanting to appear to be looming over him or anything threatening. She's worried and she can't hide that, but there's no anger or laughter or anything nasty in her voice. "Sweetheart, it's just us. You're safe, you're okay. Do you know where you are?"

It's hard to tell what's going on in the dark. "Lights, 20%." Should be just enough to see without her tripping over anything, at least until she finds her glasses.

"Bad dream, right?" By Clint's tone, he knows what kind of an understatement he's making. He knows, because he's had night terrors like that, himself. He's going to find a cup in the dim light, get Jim some water. The sweating and the crying-out makes for a dry throat, and adrenaline always tastes bitter when it's got nowhere to go.

"Here," he supplies, holding out the cup, "got'cha some water."

"....Nnnhh."

They're looking at him. They know. He knew this was going to happen. Shouldn't have let them stay. Not with him. It's pitiful isn't it? Not being able to function like a normal goddamn person.

With the lights on Jim has no choice but to sit up, despite the protesting pain in his abdomen. He still isn't able to properly breathe, panic attack not subsiding knowing he's here and okay. It's reinforced by the replacement emotions of shame and dread. The worst sponsor emotions to ever get a deal working with the brain.

Suddenly there's just this burning desire to be out, somewhere they can't see him like this. BUt that's no good either. If he bails on them, his crew is going to see. he's trapped.

Jim's not even aware he's shaking or crying, trying to process unattainable escape plans.

Jim's idea of a pillow fight is to put a pillow on someone and then punching them

That's 50% less fun and 72% less sexy.

Wait, so smothering and punches still has some room on the fun and sexy scales?

Everything is sexy if you do it right.

People have some weird kinks.

Fair enough. Who am I to judge?

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