Return - Part 2 (Jim Kirk)
Summary: takes place during sequences of star trek beyond; the last few years of episodic space travel have been taxing on jim as his heart remains with you and the abronath remains with him. a trade-off is imminent, however, when he spots you and someone else spots the artifact. (series following loot; no real reason to read it, though)
Warnings: language, lil angsty
A/N: i’m still taggin’ those i used to tag for loot, tell me if you want me to take y’all off the list. extended author’s note at the bottom
You slid onto the booth bench without so much as a greeting to the man that sat before you. You took the drink he was nursing and offered him a small scowl prior to tipping the glass back and draining it of its contents. You both knew a pleasant, emotional greeting was unnecessary.
You scowled deeper and sighed at the burning in your throat. You placed your hand flat on your chest and sighed. “That’s not my drink. Why would you order that?”
“Because it’s my drink,” he told you in a voice that rivaled your own in terms of irritation and a grimace that rivaled yours in terms of depth. You could have smiled at his Southern drawl, though. It still reminded you of warm peach cobbler.
Leonard then gave you a once over and seemed to be dissatisfied with what he saw. “You looked good a few days ago. What happened?”
“Oh, I’ve just been in a bit of a tizzy seeing as we spoke three days ago and you didn’t think to tell me the Enterprise would be docking here.” You cleared your throat and sat back, your head lolling against the cushion behind you. You frowned. “Didn’t even give me a chance to leave the planet.”
“Ain’t allowed to leave the planet while on parole— even I know that.” His scowl was slowly shifting into a half-smile that touched his eyes as if the largest grin. “Besides, Yorktown ain’t so bad once you stop thinkin’ about how a crack in the glass could kill us all— you’re lucky to be here.”
You hummed, smiling at the bartender that set your usual drink before you. Your polite smile turned to a rueful one as you swirled your fingertip over the rim of your glass and sighed. “Anything’s better than a jail cell.”
“Try livin’ on the Enterprise for three years.”