Here Comes Your Man
Prompt: @imamotherfuckingstar-lord‘s song challenge - my song was ‘Here Comes Your Man’ by the Pixies. My character was Jim Kirk. I had SO much fun writing this. And listening to the Pixies.
Word Count: 2111
Author’s Note: Oh Jim. You do make a girl’s heart go pitty-pat. I used the song lyrics as the section dividers - I think it kind of works thematically. You’ll have to believe me that I let the song lead the fic ;)
Outside there’s a box car waiting, Outside the family stew
The wind rushed through your ears as you flew down the highway on the old PX70, headed away toward the shipyard. You were determined to make the shuttle leaving for the academy, hell or high water. You smoothed down your hair as you dismounted from the bike, and stowed your keys in your pocket. The security guy at the perimeter raised an eyebrow at you.
“Last person came gunning in here like that left me his keys,” he winked. You rolled your eyes.
“That’s an antique. Probably worth more than the shuttle. I’m not giving it to you. My dad’ll be by to pick it up this afternoon,” you shot back, skipping a stair as you bounded onto the shuttle. Once you were buckled in, you closed your eyes and relaxed.
Out by the fire breathing, Outside we wait ‘til face turns blue
Jim Kirk. You remembered him, vaguely, from high school. He was that misunderstood genius delinquent that all the girls loved to get caught under the bleachers with. You’d fancied yourself interested at one point, but you’d never once caught his eye, and finally gave up, moving on to non-genius delinquents who were probably not as fun, but easily as much trouble. And really, two genius delinquents in one relationship was probably one too many anyhow.
After high school, you’d headed to university for engineering, and discovered your aptitude for mechanics. It had led to your hire at a shop that restored and updated old cars and motorcycles. When Christopher Pike had brought in an old motorcycle for a retrofit, he’d seen the way you worked and started the recruitment speech. He even went as far as to look you up, and throw your aptitude scoring back at you.
Which was how you wound up sitting behind Jim Kirk in a lecture of xenoanthropology in a command track class. All those repressed feelings from high school bubbled to the surface when you saw the line of his jaw, flexed with concentration. When the prof called on you to answer a complicated question about the Prime Directive, he turned and you saw a flash of recognition in those blue eyes. You smirked, somewhat lopsidedly, and winked at him before he turned back to his seat. You weren’t sure, but you thought his ears might be a bit redder.