smartass_captain | The First Annual Adopted Family Thanksgiving

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The First Annual Adopted Family Thanksgiving

It's not that Jim forgot about the second present he gave Verity way back a month ago on her birthday. How could he forget, when he'd had to dig out the key to the house to get it replicated? It's sat out on his desk in his quarters every day since, a bold reminder that Jim Kirk was seriously doing this.

Jim Kirk was going to try to have a normal family. A family who celebrated (some) holidays. A family who came together. Not a relationship. Hell no. But...you know..siblings? A family? He almost worried Sam or his mother would try to reach out to him. Thankfully no such messages yet. Which means Jim is free to spend time with the people he actually wants in his life.

And that means getting Thanksgiving put together.

He'll call Clint later. First things first. Calling Big Sister.

"Verity? It's Jim. You busy?"

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Well, she's glad he told her that before she started in on the Christmas candy making.

"Okay." He gets a quick hug then, to reassure him she's not angry. "Thank you for letting me know. We will be a nut-free family, that's no problem at all." And they don't need to talk about it anymore. "So... turkey, gravy, stuffing, green beans and corn, cranberries, apple and pumpkin pies. Cornbread or dinner rolls? Oh man, do I get to decorate? I've never had a family to decorate for."

This is why Verity is the Big Sister. All of this being awesome right here. Jim pats her on the back in return, glad she isn't pressing the issue.

"Gotta have buns. Rolls. Whichever. Meat and carbs are practically what the Midwest runs on." Jim snorts and there's that smile that had vanished, peeking back out again.

"Sure, you can decorate. Go nuts." How much trouble could it be? "As long as we can get everything cleaned up, it should be fine. Even have rooms for everyone."

What's there to press? She can't make him un-allergic to things. She would have preferred a complete answer the first time, but no harm done.

And there are better things to think about. So much to plan. "Anything you like," she promises. "I won't go overboard. There may be flowers." There are going to be flowers.

"Down here. The shop with the green sign."

It's hard to remember everything sometimes. Jim keeps a--oh. "D..do you want a copy of my list off my data pad?" Jim, you putz. Luckily, like most things, this is in a round about way Clint's fault.

"Sounds good. I promise I'm not allergic to lavender." Jim sees the place Verity's mentioned and heads on inside so they can get their shop on. Weirdly enough, you can get a PINpoint in just about anything if you're willing to pay enough for it. Probably best not to tell Scotty about this. But he can get a sharp phone that looks a lot like Verity's in a sleek black with an extra little button on it that will open the PINpoint program for use.

"That...was relatively painless." Jim concedes, inspecting the device. "I can see why you like this thing. It's really multi-use."

"That would help," she agrees. (How is this Clint's fault? She's not questioning that it is, just's just curious.)

"I'll keep that in mind." She hangs back a bit while he shops, only stepping forward to answer his questions. And to suggest he get a nice case for it; given his lifestyle...

"Yeah. Just wait until you figure out how to sync it to the ship's computer. You'll be able to look things up from anywhere." Of course, if someone else gets a hold of his phone... maybe not. "You want to call Clint and tell him the good news?"

Genetics. That's where he gets it from, ultimately.

"Man, with this thing I don't even have to use the door anymore." Not that the door has been as bad of a Thing since he first arrived, but it's one less unpleasant experience to make the trip to the Nexus. "Sweeet."

"Oh, sure thing." Slidey slidey swipe swipe beep boop beep.

"Clint? It's Jim. Are you busy?" At least he's that way with everyone.

"Hzuh?" comes a muzzy, sleep-addled reply. Someone answered their phone by faceplanting into it in the process of waking up. "Wuh? Who's hurt?"

Genetics? Yeah, that's fair.

"There is that," she agrees. Not having to face that door might be good for him. He's seen enough of it, and probably needs to see less door and more therapy. Yeah, she knows that won't happen.

"Nobody's hurt." Verity's quick on that one. It's something she's learned with Clint: always make sure he knows it's not an emergency. "Were you sleeping?"

Less of the door is at least half of what he needs. That's progress, right? Now maybe if he'd admit to his personal physician what he was going through....yeah, baby steps.

"Of course he was--wait. What time is it over there? Clint. It's Jim. Jim and Verity. Get dressed, we're getting Thanksgiving planned out. Can't have a family gathering without you."

"Uh." Beat. There was a question. C'mon, brain, get going. "Yeah. Sorry. 'M up. Hang on."

Give him a moment, he's going to drink cold coffee, regret it, and get back on the phone. "Okay. Where'm I going, and should I bring my bow?"

"Jim, sweetie, we didn't have to wake him up. He's your brother, not your crew." This is said quietly, while Clint's regretting his coffee choices, but she's not doing much to actively prevent his hearing it.

"We're planning Thanksgiving, Clint, it's not a crisis situation and it can wait if you want to go back to sleep."

"...Verity says we didn't have to wake you up, so I'll apologize before she boxes my ears. Look, meet us at your door, okay? I'll bring you a cup of coffee on the way to meet you." Verity's the bossy big sister, and Jim can't quite help being the impatient baby of the family.

He wants to go nowwww you guys!

That makes Clint the--aw, man, dangit, Clint's the middle child. That never works out.

"Sokay. Alright, my door, no bow. Pants, though. Meet'cha there." He hangs up, and in a few minutes he's at his door, tousled and drowsy but on his feet and half a coffee away from crisis-ready.

Sorry, Clint, even in this weird family you can't stop being the beautiful human disaster.

Everyone's getting coffees! And coffee-appropriate pastries: ebelskivers filled with chocolate. She's getting a whole box of those to bring with because magic round chocolate-filled pancakes, you guys.

"'Morning sleepyhead."

"Here." Jim hands Clint his coffee before greetings are even exchanged. "I asked the lady to put a few shots of espresso in your coffee." Or as Jim likes to call it--'It's day three and I need to inject adrenaline into my chest cavity to stay awake right now.'

Good times.

"Were you out late or something? Oh, Verity also brought breakfast because she thinks of stuff like that." Such a good big sister.

Clint downs half the cup in a draught, and looks somewhat more awake at the end of it. "Sorry, had a late night. Avengers thing. So we're... cleaning a house?" Then he sees the things Verity has. He doesn't know what they are, but they smell like delicious, so he'll have one. "Mmm! I'm in."

She has to do something to keep them around. Once Clint's had one of the chocolate-filled happiness pillows she offers them to Jim. "Jim's offered to host Thanksgiving for us at the farm."

You remember, right Clint? The birthday dinner, the mysterious key? The farm?

"Who pulls a villain plot right around Thanksgiving? What a dick, whoever it is." Some people. Of course, Clint could probably still be sleeping to recover if someone wasn't so impatient. Some people indeed.

"Mmph. S'good, Ver." Whatever they are, they go great with the coffee he's got. She has all the best noms ideas, really.

"Yeah I know it's a bit short notice, but I signed on for delta shift tonight so that I'll be off tomorrow around when people usually do their celebrating. So we gotta clean and help Ver plan a menu, and then you know...heh. First Thanksgiving I'll be spending with family in...hell, ever, damn near."

The question is probably rhetorical. The Thanksgiving, less so--Clint smiles as the idea finally sinks in. "That sounds great. Let's go." Beat. "Um, should I maybe get some nicer clothes? For dinner?"

It's amazing what happens when you stop and eat, isn't it? She's pleased they're both enjoying the treats. And once she gets to taste one, she's not surprised, because yum.

"You may have noticed nobody's packed, so... we'll worry about our wardrobes later. One or two things at a time, please, I'm not a super genius or an Avenger, remember?" When it comes to organizational skills, she's pretty sure she's got them both beat, but fragile egos need careful handling.

"Besides, I really want to see this new mystery home of ours."

Jim can organize for the Enterprise. Micromanaging individual personel things? Oh hell no. That's what yeoman and Spock are for. And heads of whatever other departments. Jim's a big picture kind of guy.

Speaking of most important things...Jim is playing with the controls on the PINpoint, studying the scrap of paper the salesman had given him with precise instructions. He'd even translated it into Galactic Standard, which was nice of him.

Once he's got the coordinates plugged in, he looks over each shoulder to Verity and Clint.

"Hang on, would you? Not sure how bumpy this thing is." once everyone's situated he'll hit the controls and--

Plip. Goodbye Nexus.

The first thing Jim notices when he can feel ground again is that that thing is a hell of a lot more sudden than beaming. It was like dreaming that you were falling. A short dropping sensation and then Bam. The second is the smell of grass and decaying fall leaves. They're standing on the long gravel driveway leading from the family farm to the county road--the only lifeline between home and civilization for miles.

He's not prepared for the sight of the farmhouse, even though he thought he would be. It's the same as Jim remembers. Hell, the spare key is probably still behind the solar panel out by the barn if he had forgotten his.

It's easy to forget he hadn't come alone in this moment. Easy to let a lot of memories come back. Jim takes a deep breath and puts on a smile.

"Welcome to the Kirk family house, you guys."

Nothing else smells quite like Iowa in November, and the shock of it hits Clint harder than he'd expected. Then he sees the house, and is blown away. "Oh, no way! I grew up in a house just like this!"

Apparently, grappling with the realities of this moment might be a family thing. Verity?

She's never been to Iowa (or a real farm), and this is nothing like Long Island. They're going to have to have their magical memory tour without her. Except for this part here where she's hugging them both. That's why they brought her, right?

"It's beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us."

In Jim's case, Verity isn't missing much. A queasy sense of unease, followed by the oft asked question: 'Is this really a good idea? Bringing them here?' It's probably for the best he make some good memories associated with this place. It is home, after all.

Jim seems to snap out of whatever funk he'd drifted into, fishing out his key and heading to the front door.

"So, keep in mind, this place hasn't seen much for about four years now, not since I joined up with the fleet. I've got a neighbor, Gloria, checking in a couple times a year or so to make sure nothing's broken or the like, but we're going to have to do a bit of cleaning." Luckily, the house has been long since emptied of anything that could die or spoil--plants, food and the like. Jim's neighbor was kind enough to do that for him after his quite sudden decision to leave everything behind.

Some of Clint's familiar memories aren't pleasant, either. It was in a house like this that his dad hit him until he lost his hearing for the first time. But it also reminds him of the brother who taught him to stand. Bonds forged in blood are the stronger for it, and he's bled on black Iowa soil plenty. "It's great, Jim, really great."

Patting down his sweatpants, he digs the key ring out of his pocket. "So, who wants to do the honors?"

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