A/N: I literally wrote this at 1:00 AM last night, so I should probably wait before posting but...*shrugs* This as good as it's gonna get. Also note that I don't have a beta reader, so all mistakes are my own.

They alternate between being that cute, annoying in love couple and the badass power couple so often that it gives most of the crew whiplash. It annoys Bones to no end and amuses Uhura—and yet the two of them find themselves appointed to giving Jim and Carol dating advice constantly.

By the time they hit the second year in the Five Year Mission, Jim and Carol are so "married" that the crew has taken to calling them Mom and Dad in private.

"Mom and Dad are fighting again," Uhura warns the Bridge Crew one morning.

"What do you think the Parents are doing?" Sulu asks, watching Jim and Carol arguing with each other on an away mission.

"Power Couple," Chekov whispers to an amused Uhura, as Jim and Carol kick ass when the mission goes wrong.

"Someone please marry them," Bones mutters, watching Jim and Carol "kiss and make up" after their fight.

"Fascinating," Spock says.

"Shut up," Bones snaps. "You haven't walked in on them yet."

"Who'd have thought," a newer member of the crew mumbles. "Kirk in a stable relationship."

The entire Bridge Crew eyed him.

"That's our Parents you're talking about," Sulu said, seriously. Uhura snorted.

"Lay off, Sulu. You know we were all thinking it when it started."

"How did it start?" Ensign Havoc asks, curious.

Everyone pauses. "Through the stages of nicknames," Uhura said at last.


5. Jimmy and Carrie

He's the only one who's surprised when she accepts a position on the Enterprise. And for the life of him, Jim can't figure out why everyone is giving him these understanding looks and exchanging smug grins whenever the topic comes up.

Honestly, it isn't as if she actually enjoyed the brief time in which she was on the Enterprise. After all, it was because of him that her father was brutally murdered in front of her, no matter how indirectly it may have seem. And it wasn't as if he'd think badly of her for blaming it all on him. Hell, even he blamed it all on him.

Jim told Bones as much and got a hypospray to the neck and a 'dammit Jim, talk to your therapist, not me!' for his trouble.

His therapist is a joke, so he settles for staring at Carol for long amounts of time when she's not looking. This goes on until Bones clues him in on it being creepy. Judging by the looks he's receiving from Spock and Uhura, this is probably true. Oh well. It isn't as if she comes to his hospital room that often anyway.

He's released from the hospital two weeks later, but forcibly kept in solitary confinement in his apartment for the next month.

"Stop calling it that," Bones says. "Maybe if you actually let your crew stop by and check on you, you wouldn't be alone," he gripes.

"But I look pathetic," Jim moans, well…pathetically. He's flopped out on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and draped in a fuzzy blanket, with bowl of popcorn in between his crossed legs.

"I'm not arguing with you there," Bones mutters back, eyeing him.

Jim ignores him and glares down at his food as if it personally offended him.

"I can't take much more of this," Bones grumbles, as he stomps out of the room. "I'm finding someone else to babysit you."


"Need some company?" a crisp, but pleasant voice startles him out of his mournful musings an hour later. Jim shrieks slightly, flailing as he fights to regain balance on the couch.

Carol Marcus is leaning against the door frame, eyebrows raised.

"Lieutenant Marcus," he says in his Captain voice. "You surprised me."

"Are you wearing anything under that?" She nods at the blanket covering him from the hips down.

He flushes. "Yes."

She looks intrigued, and not in a way that he likes. Her eyes rake unashamedly over his toned body. He'd call her out on it except…well…it would be kind of hypocritical for calling her out on something he was guilty of on multiple occasions.

No more checking out uninterested women. Got it.

"I'll go…put something on," he finally says.

Her mouth twists into what he thinks is a smile, but isn't sure.

"Don't let me stop you."

A few minutes later, the two of them are standing awkwardly in front of each other in his living room. Fortunately they're both fully dressed this time. Or unfortunately, depending how you look at it.

He blinks and shakes his head at that thought. Where did that come from?

"Doctor McCoy said you might like some company," she says, breaking the awkward silence.

Jim makes a mental note to have words with Doctor McCoy later.

"Well he's not wrong. Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Carol shakes her head, as she sits on the previously vacated couch next to him. "I'm good." Her eyes wander over him for a moment before asking, "How're you feeling?"

He's heard the question so many times already since his brief "death" that he swears he'll shot the next person who asks, but somehow, coming from her, it's different. He's unsure why it's different. Maybe it's because she was on the Vengeance with him or maybe it's because she helped Bones bring him back.

Or maybe it's because she lost just as much as he did.

"I'm…" Jim pauses. Fine, his brain supplies, but he finds himself wanting to be honest with her. "I'm getting there," he says at last. "You?"

"Getting there," she agrees.


She goes back to England until the Enterprise is ready for the Five Year Mission. He feels a sense of loss after she leaves, which is weird because he barely knows her.

Bones is giving him that Look again. Jim forces himself to concentrate on getting the Enterprise fit for her mission. Not because the sooner the Enterprise is ready the sooner he can see Carol again. Nope. Not at all.


"That was a lovely speech," she tells him, in her lovely British accent. They're both in the stiff, uncomfortable dress uniforms that the occasion has called for, but the dark color looks surprisingly attractive on her and not in the objectifying, womanizing way that he enjoyed three years ago.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he says, formally. "How was your trip?"

"Delightful," she replies. "I see you've recovered well, Captain," Carol adds, looking him over once.

"Jim," he corrects, automatically. She blinks up at him. Her confusion slowly melts off her face as a smile—one of the first real smiles he's ever seen from her—curls at the corners of her lips.

"Carol," she replies. "But only when off duty."


"Dr. Marcus." Jim strolls casually towards her station, ignoring a few crewmembers' watchful eyes. "I—uh—I'm glad you could be part of the family," he finally gets out, willing himself not to be an idiot in front of her.

She seems to take mercy and grants him a smile. "It's good to have a family."


It's been three months since they started their first Five Year Mission and all they've had is milk-runs and a few simple diplomatic missions. Everything is going smoothly, but Jim knows it's not going to last long—not with this luck—so he's going to savor it.

Alpha Shift ends and he really hasn't slept because Yeoman Rand has been on him for the last twenty-four hours about paperwork, so he decides to go catch a few winks before his next shift starts.

As he heads towards the turbolift, he realizes someone else has the same idea.

"Carol," he greets.

"Jim," she replies.

"Where are you headed?" Jim asks, as the two of them head towards the turbolift.

"My quarters," she replies.

"I'll walk you there," he offers. She raises her eyebrows at him. "Hey! No nefarious intent, I promise," he protests. "It's on my way."

Carol eyes him for a moment before nodding once. "Long day?" she asks, looking him over once. She seems to do that a lot, he's noticed.

"Not long enough," he corrects with a tired grin.

The two of them walk towards her quarters in silent companionship. It's weird because he hasn't really been friends with a woman he wasn't trying to sleep with—unless you count Uhura, which he didn't because he dropped the idea of bedding her long before he befriended her.

But it's what makes it so weird is that he's incredibly attracted to her and simultaneously content with being her friend—

"You're thinking too hard," she says, nudging him with her shoulder. "I think you need a drink."

"I don't drink alone," he replies, easily.

She raises her eyebrows—she seems to do that a lot—and comes to a stop. "Is that an invitation?"


"I thought we were supposed to be sleeping," he asks, three drinks later.

"You were the one who invited me," she replies, downing her shot in a way that made him proud.

He shrugs. He really really should be sleeping right now, but she suggested drinks, and the view from the Observation Deck was what he would call enchanting if he was a romantic, and the starlight reflected in Carol's eyes is honestly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Oh. Oh.

"Are you alright, Jim?"

She's frowning at him, concerned and he's not sure why until he realizes that he hasn't answered and he's been staring at her for at least a minute. There are so many reasons to panic about this, because you just don't have feelings for one of your subordinates, it probably breaks at least a hundred regs, or someone will consider an abuse of authority, and why would someone like her even go for a guy like him—

"Jim! Captain!" she hisses, looking about a minute away from calling Spock or, worse, Bones.

"I'm alright, Carrie!" he blurts out and then stops.

She stares at him.

"Carol," he corrects, blinking.

"I think you've had too much to drink, Jimmy." Her eyes are twinkling.

He almost corrects her. He hates being called Jimmy. It reminds him of broken beer bottles and empty promises, and the last time anyone ever used it with his permission was before he stole the Corvette, but the way Carol said it was completely different. It lacked the condescending, hateful snarl that Frank used when he said it, it was devoid of his mother's guilty pleas after Tarsus, and it wasn't full of disappointment at his existence when Sam used it.

Carol said it sweetly and affectionately, but also teasingly. Her lips were quirked in a merry grin and her eyes, although tired, were shinning.

He doesn't correct her.


It becomes a game when they're off duty. And it's a weird kind of game because there's no rules or objective, just how many times you can call someone the same nickname without being called out on it. But she's clever and she figures it out quickly and Jim has the strangest feeling that she's flirting with him when she says Jimmy.

Bones is giving him weird looks, which is reasonable Jim supposes. After all, both of them remembered when Jim told Bones that he didn't like to be called 'Jimmy'; and Bones was a smart man and a doctor, so he could read between the lines when Jim muttered "Frank used to call me that", so really the suspicious glances his best friend is sending his way are justified.

Jim can't quite pin the point when it stops becoming a game, but suddenly they aren't Jim and Carol anymore; they're Jimmy and Carrie.

The first time he accidently uses it on the Bridge, everyone exchanges these looks that Jim doesn't know what to make of. It's like they know something he doesn't, so Jim asks Bones about it.

"If you don't know by now, you don't deserve to know. Now get out of my Medbay. Some of us actually have work to do."


"Carrie," he greets, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

"Jimmy," she says, seriously.

"Save me," Bones mutters, under his breath.