Prompt: 'Kirk takes bubble baths'
This would work better as an art fill, but I'm no visual artist. I hope someone will come along and draw this super fun prompt, but in the mean time, here are some words.
"This place is ridiculous," Sulu commented, giving their suite a skeptical look.
McCoy sat down on a bed and began poking the mattress, his expression critical. "Who cares. Jim's covering the difference, the beds are comfortable, the windows are triple-paned, and we're not next to a shipping facility."
Jim called over his shoulder, "Your high standards are so hard to meet," from where he was touring the bathroom. It took up half the suite's size, and was decorated with a Terran aesthetic in mind: tile floors and walls in alternating white, black, and dark blue patterns; two free-standing, ceramic basins of marbled red and white stone in front of ornate mirrors framed in a dark, bronze-like material; a large, half-walled shower area with two water-resistant benches and a drencher; and an enormous, black, claw-foot bathtub with a small reclining bench inside it.
Sulu set his bag down on another bed. There was one for each them, and though they weren't as lavish as the bathroom, they promised to be a significant step up from the Enterprise. "Captain, are you sure about this? It's pretty expensive."
Jim had insisted as soon as he'd seen the suite floor plans. He ran a hand along the edge of the tub. "Positive."
The following day, McCoy was scheduled to be in seminars and sessions from just after breakfast until dinner. Sulu had made plans with Chekov and Darwin to check out some of the local sights after their morning panels were over; they didn't expect to be back until late that night.
Jim, like the rest of the Command group, would be getting out early, and he came back to an empty suite and a few hours all to himself. Perfection.
Aorox, like Earth, was classified as a majority-water planet, though its inhabitants had caught on to the need to be careful with the precious commodity very early in their history. They had the best water-reclamation technology in the Federation, and made use of it in a variety of ways, one of which was their ability to indulge water-loving tourists with things like ridiculous swimming and bathing facilities.
Jim had been waiting a long time to use this particular mix. Risans were masters of self-indulgence, and if the bath felt anywhere near as good as the oils smelled, he wasn't going to want to get out. It wasn't something one dropped in for a twenty-minute soak during a three-day shore leave in a tiny hotel room's minuscule tub. No, this was meant to be savored; ideally with someone else, but no one whom he'd want to share the space with and who'd really enjoy it was present. A pity, but not enough of one to dissuade him with a bathtub like this at his disposal.
He set a cold glass of cheerfully red local beer and some hors d'oeuvres on the side table while the tub filled, adding the amber-colored solution when the water had reached about half-way. The steam turned heavy and spicy, and just a little smoky-sweet, and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
He checked the clock one last time-a good three hours at least before he could expect McCoy back-slipped out of his robe, and stepped in.
The water was hot enough to take his breath away, but the shock was entirely worth it as soon as the initial flush had passed and he was up to his chin in bronze, gold, and white bubble foam. The oils made the bubbles rich and thick, almost lathery, ideal for rubbing over skin with a towel or a sponge if one was in the mood.
Jim wasn't; he just wanted to soak. He spent several minutes acclimating to the heat of the water, then dunked his head under for a second; the cooler air of the room on his face was a refreshing contrast to water's heat. He scrubbed a bit of the foam into his hair, settled against the bench, and sighed.
Bathtubs weren't really a possibility on a starship, and they were one of the few things Jim missed while in space. He'd missed them at the Academy as well, which only had showers in the dorms, and had taken to saving up money from odd jobs and favors to spend on a trip to a bathhouse. The ones with private baths were more expensive, but you got more time in them.
It had been worth every penny then and still was now. Privacy and space to think in were rare at the Academy and on a starship for anyone, and the captain most of all. He had to be available at a moment's notice for anything.
Except for right now. Right now, the Enterprise was orbiting an ally's home planet while her crew went to a variety of sessions on interstellar politics and diplomacy, math, biology, medicine, and xenolinguistics, took a few hours to tour the surface, and in some cases, soak in bathtubs.
He'd just finished the last hors d'oeuvre when he heard the door to the suite open. Someone moved around in the room, then McCoy called out, "Jim?"
Trust McCoy to sneak out of his panels early. It had been a nice hour, at least. "In here."
McCoy stopped at the bathroom entrance and stared. Jim was certain he'd never seen him so thunderstruck. "Are you taking a bubble bath?" McCoy stepped in, peering like he thought the situation could change at any second, and he had to record it in his mind now or lose the opportunity.
Jim felt too good to be put-out by the accusation in McCoy's voice. "I didn't say you could come in here," he said, and flung a handful of bubbles at McCoy, who took a half-step back.
"You really are." He sniffed. "What is that, sandalwood?"
"It's a Risan mix. Traded a vendor for some help with his billing database."
"You worked through our last shore leave?"
Jim shrugged. "I bartered for something nice I could put to good use later. Which is now." He reached behind himself and took up his beer. "Aren't you always telling me hot water's good for abused muscles and joints? You should try it some time."
McCoy grunted. "I was thinking, you know, a jacuzzi."
"This smells and feels about one hundred times better than a jacuzzi, and is," he gave McCoy a dry look over the rim of the glass, "usually a lot more private."
"Maybe you shouldn't have shared the room with us, then."
Jim made a low sound; he didn't particularly like having a hotel room to himself. Just the bathtub. "We can go to that bar Scotty suggested after I finish my bath."
"And how long is that going to take?"
"As long as it takes me to finish this," he said, raising the glass. "Which might go faster if you're not in here harassing me."
McCoy gave the bubbles one last look-Jim was sure this time it was more speculative—and went back into the bedroom.
Jim nursed his beer and wondered what sort of mix he might be able to tempt Bones into trying. Something subtle, certainly; anything that smelled strong would put him off. Low foam, too, and plain colors. Dramatic wouldn't be his style. Certainly nothing flashy like glitter. (He remembered a mix Gaila had given him as congratulations for passing a class most cadets failed the first time through; they'd been picking glitter off of one another for days after that.)
He would have to give it some thought during tomorrow's bath.