Disclaimer - Star Trek and all its characters belong to people much smarter and richer than me. I own nothing except a copy of the awesome movie that lead me into this universe.
AN - okay, my first venture into this fandom after much reading and lurking. I asked a friend for three prompts and the following are what I created from them. ST 2009 was my first Star Trek experience, I've never seen the original series, so I'm taking creative liberties and running amok in the sandbox.
AN 2 - I don't know how to do a Russian accent, so bear with me. And characters may be out-of-character, I'm just winging it.
STAR_TREK_this_is_a_divider_STAR_TREK
Renting Classic Movies
"Jim, these aren't classics. They're freaking ancient!" Leonard McCoy snarled as he flipped though the stack of holovids his best (and craziest) friend had brought over.
Amused blue eyes crinkled slightly as Jim Kirk shook his head in exasperation. "Don't bash them until you've tried them, Bones." He said as he walked toward the couch, beers in one hand and a bowl of popcorn balanced on the other.
"Don't what?" McCoy stared at the blond in confusion as he picked a vid at random to put in the player.
"20th century slang. Just don't judge until you've seen them." Jim explained, sprawling across the couch cushions. "Now sit down and take your beer."
"Crazy hick and his out-dated obsessions." McCoy grumbled, shoving aside his friend's legs to make room to sit. He glared half-heartedly as Jim just put them in the doctor's lap, a teasing little grin on his face.
"Thought you'd like to watch something from your era, old man. Nostalgic and all that." Jim couldn't help the playful barb, laughing as he got a handful of popcorn thrown at him in reply with a grumbled "Shut up, kid. Watch your damn movie." He smiled a bit as he settled in. Having nights like this with Bones made all the crap and chaos of the Academy worth it.
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The Yule Log
Rec Room 4 ¾ of the USS Enterprise was decorated to the nines as Chekov and Sulu walked in. Since the flagship was nowhere near Earth for the Terran winter season, the captain had decided to throw a party so the crew could still celebrate Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, the Solstice, or whatever holiday they practiced.
There was a huge tree in one corner (how'd Kirk get a 7 foot tall live pine tree this far out in space, no one knew) heavy with miniature snowflakes and glass baubles, colored lights and garlands and tinsel hanging on the walls and across the ceiling, menorahs and kinaras and other holiday items on another table against a wall, and (of course) a ton of food.
The banquet had all the fixings of a classic Terran holiday feast with the turkey, ham, and roast plus the mashed potatoes, candied yams, various vegetable dishes and pies. Also, there were Jewish latkes, African peanut soup, and other holiday dishes from different practices. There were even some Vulcan, Orion, and other non-Terran dishes so those among the crew who weren't human could still have a bit of their culture in the festivities.
"Wow, that's a lot of sugar." Sulu admired, gazing upon one table full of cookies, pies, puddings, and other sweets. "Wonder why there's five kinds of that roll cake."
"That'z Bûche de Noël. The Yule Log cake. It iz inwented in Russia, you know." Chekov stated, cutting himself a slice of the chocolate sponge cake. "I do not know vhy there are different ones though. That one looks like vanilla cake, and that's one's pink. They are often chocolate. "
"Vulcans don't do chocolate, and I wanted Spock and the other Vulcan crewmembers to have some."
"Keptin!" "Captain!" The pair whirl to face him, straightening to attention.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Relax, we're off duty, remember? None of that military protocol at the party."
"Yes, s -"
"Jim. Or at least Kirk."
"Yes, Jim." They chorus, stances loosening at the easy pleased grin they receive.
"Great!" The captain claps a pleased hand on each of their shoulders. "Enjoy the party, guys. And watch out for the mistletoe, blackmail pictures are rampant." With a grin, Jim walked off, leaving his navigator and helmsman blushing while refusing to look at each other.
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A Red Barn
It was a red corvette. Shiny and beautiful with sleek lines and smooth planes.
Dad's car, his pride and joy, or so Sam said.
Mom couldn't stand the sight of it. Kept it covered with the tarp. Unless it was late at night when Jim would sneak out to stare at the stars and find his mother curled up in the front seat of that car crying and wishing for the husband she lost.
Jim had been poking at the engine under the hood when Sam found him. Sam had yelled to not touch Dad's car, it was one of the last things he had of him. Jim replied that George had been his dad too, and he just wanted to learn about it, wanted to have some connection to the man who died the day he was born other than the face staring back at him in the mirror. Sam had gone quiet, then found a tool box. They had learned how to take the engine and all its companions apart, how to improve and tweak and repair. It was one of the few things that the brothers had bonded over.
Yesterday, Sam had stormed off, leaving for good. Leaving Jim. Whatever bond they had shared broken between them, shattered with Sam's good bye.
Frank wanted to sell the car. Sell Dad's car. Sell the glorious machine that linked George and Sam and Jim.
Those connections were gone.
Dad would never be more than a ghost haunting Jim's steps.
Sam would never come back for Jim to be his brother.
Frank would never be allowed to sell that car.
Jim grabbed the keys and walked out to that red barn with the red corvette of broken bonds waiting for him.
He would break the physical representation to match those bonds.
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And we're done.