Pairing: Kirk/Spock

Ratings: from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

Genres: AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

Notes: This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.

Warnings on this chapter: Mentions of Tarsus IV, child abuse, bad language and other juciy bits as the story develops (I'll fill you in as we go).

A/N: I am...pretty sure, this is wrong on some level my brain wasn't informed of. This was - and please don't ask how, because IDEK - was inspired by the movie/play/musical/whatever Annie. Minus the singing. And a little bit darker. And with teenage orphan instead of baby kid. So...um...read at your own risk, and...

Enjoy! :,D

Jimmy, Part 1

Doctor Leonard McCoy eyed the sad excuse of a building with a disgusted sneer, spine rigid in badly restrained fury. He had never been very concerned about veiling his emotions; he'd encountered so much dishonesty where emotions were concerned that the appeal to put up a pleasant front where there was none had long since crumbled and died. Which didn't really explain why he worked for a goddamned Vulcan of all things, emotionally constipated and lying bastard as they were (Vulcan's don't feel, my ass!).

However he did work for a Vulcan, a rather impressive one at that even he had to admit with a slight grumble, and he was here on business, so to speak. It was not a doctor's appointment; he was Ambassador Sarek's 'family doctor', as the Lady Amanda had dubbed him, but not today. Today he had been given a task some idiot had thought he'd be best suited for, which was complete bull, by the way.

Ambassador Sarek, in an attempt to smooth over negotiations, had been persuaded that it would somehow be logical to let a little local orphan brat spend two weeks with him in the stationed Federation Embassy. Some shit about showing they cared, or whatever. Public image. Apparently the colony was important, and their wish to break free of the Federation was not good. Or something, Leonard didn't really give a shit. All he knew was that he'd been sent to this dump to choose a suiting kid and bring it with him. All because he was the only human available, except the Lady Amanda, but Sarek would never send his own wife on an errand like this (apparently, Vulcans were possessive and protective non-feeling bastards).

Well, the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he'd be back on the tin can they dared call ship and far away from this unnerving place (too many eyes watching, too many tight lipped people, too ridged, not enough white noise of conversation, giggles and life).

Taking the three steps to the door, Leonard banged a fist against the door, not at all trusting the all but decoying device which would've announced his presence like an old Earth doorbell (he didn't feel like getting electrocuted today, thank you very much). It took a couple of minutes, 5 maybe, and a few more knocks before steps could be heard thundering down a set of stairs somewhere behind the door. Quick, and light. A child, then.

The door squeaked open, and Leonard had to look down to see who greeted him. A tiny boy, all blue eyes and messy curls and rosy cheeks. Dirt streaked across his nose, and the clothes he wore were more rags than anything.

He knew the colony had a lot of humans, but he hadn't expected any of them at a place like this.

"Hello kid," he finally said, softly because he looked so scared, as the silence stretched. "May I speak to Mr. Smith?"

The child nodded, and opened the door wide. Leonard stepped through, eyes sweeping the place, noting that it looked no better than the outside. The small kid (he can't be more than 7, Leonard mused) led the way up a couple of stairs. No one else was in sight, but he could feel eyes on him again, and wondered where and why they were hiding.

He didn't have much time to contemplate it, as he was led to an office door just down the hall and before he could to do much else the kid bowed and scurried away without a word.

The nameplate on the door read "Mr. Frank Smith" in faded gold. Leonard steeled himself, and knocked.

JT were many things – reckless, disrespectful of any kind of supposed authority, loud, bad-mouthed, stubborn to a fault and arrogant as they come – but he most certainly was not stupid. He'd hacked the government's databanks at age 12 (although he'd gotten caught and sent to Hell because of it, which he barely survived, but he was back where he'd started again), and if it weren't for the little ones he'd be on the next transporter ferry off of this planet going far, far away and he'd be on it yesterday.

But as it was, by 14 Earth years, JT was the oldest and since there was no one around to take care of them as they should, it quite obviously fell upon him. He'd withstand Frank's drunken rages and he'd take any punishment dealt for raiding the safe and getting the money needed for an extra blanket, an extra bowl of soup, and he'd do it all over again as long as they survived. Once they were all old enough, he'd take them with him, and they'd run away and he'd take them to Earth and find them families. Then…then JT would join Starfleet, and get a ship of his own, and save everyone on planets like these and tear down the corrupt governments and it will be glorious.

For now though, he had to concentrate on breathing, because the belting he just got was as vicious as ever when Frank was pumped with Romulan ale. The door slammed shut, shrouding his curled body in darkness as Frank settled into his office next door. The walk-in closet, an improvised room of punishment, was still and silent now with the exception of JT's pained sobs and trembling limbs.

Breathe, breathe, breathe was the mantra going through his head and slowly, the clink of glass and sound of liquid poured and a drunken burp of satisfaction made it through the ringing in his ears. Relaxing slowly, he stayed still for a few moments more to collect himself. Sitting up, he fumbled blindly for his shirt, torn off in haste and thrown carelessly on the floor, and carefully pulled it on. It had survived; no tears in it that weren't familiar. The rough fabric felt like glowing coal against his raw and tender back (skin had broke in places, he could feel the sticky liquid of blood slowly drying), and he gritted his teeth in pain. Nauseous but with too little in his stomach to be concerned, he crawled towards the door and rested his sweaty forehead against it, welcoming the cool surface of wood. He started at the sound of a firm knock, for a moment his heart stilled as he thought it was on the door he was leaning against, but then Frank dropped his glass with a shouted curse before soundly making his way to the door, yanking it open to snarl in the face of whoever stood on the other side.

"What the fuck do you want?"

A pause, JT wondered if the person facing a red-faced Frank was hesitating in fear, surprise or reflected anger. He knew what his own response would be, of course, but he was a cheeky little bastard and knew how and when to duck.

"I am Dr. Leonard McCoy, sent here by Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan. There was a notice sent to you of my arrival and my purpose here, Mr….Smith…am I to assume you were not…expecting me?"

The tightly controlled anger in that deep, rough voice of a man made him suppress a smile. He liked the way he said the name Mr. Smith like it was the vilest thing he'd ever seen, and really, the tone of you-are-a-fucking-disgusting-idiot was perfected by this man.

Unable to resist, JT cracked the door open silently, peering through the spring into the messy office beyond. The voice could be heard more clearly now, but Frank stood in the doorway, blocking the sight of the visitor. Shoulder stiff, Frank took a step back and invited the man in.

The man was human, and younger than his voice had led JT to believe. Yet lines marred the face flushed in anger, telling stories JT wished he knew.

"Ambassador Sarek, you say? I apologies, Doctor, I had no idea…" Frank trailed off uncomfortably, shifty-eyed and uncomfortable where he was seating himself behind his desk. The Doctor took the seat opposite without invitation, crossing his arms and glaring dangerously. Frank cleared his throat, leaning forward to continue. "But if you would please tell me what the Ambassador would want with a poor orphanage like this…"

JT narrowed his eyes, but before he could process what was being said the Doctor glanced his way and JT almost slammed the door shut in startled surprise. The dark gaze of the Doctor held his for only a moment though, before continuing on around the room as if he hadn't seen anything.

"The Ambassador wishes to extend an invitation of two weeks to a child of this orphanage, and I'm here to choose which one."

Frank jumped into motion, pulling out his drawers and fumbling with old, worn PADDs. He looked eager, if a bit scared, and JT understood perfectly. Connections were important for a man like Frank; he wanted money, he wormed his way into people's trust and respect and he took what he could. He was a drunken bastard, but when he wanted, he could charm anyone stupid or naïve enough. However, here, everyone knew. To send one of them could be dangerous, if he chose them wrong.

JT opened the door a bit more, safe behind Frank as he was, and caught the Doctor's eye with an intent stare. The Doctor titled his head, listening to Frank mumblings as he tried to get the PADDs into order, raising a brow in question. JT grinned, pointing at himself, and raised a brow of his own. The Doctor's lips twitched, as he interrupted Frank's mad fumbling.

"The Ambassador has a few requests on the child," he said, getting Frank's attention.

"Oh, of course, what would they be?"

JT grinned.

"A human boy, fair colored," he began, lips twitching again as he paused. JT guessed he was trying to keep a straight face, which only made his grin widen. The Doctor resolutely did not look at him again. "As blue eyes are uncommon among Vulcans, he would prefer that as well."

That left Pavel and Riley and himself, JT mentally noted. Frank shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes, we have a few of those. Is there a certain age…?"

JT caught the Doctor's eye again, holding up his fingers to signal then, then closing his one fist and leaving four fingers in the air. 14.

"The Ambassador's son it 16, so he would not want a child under 14, at least."

JT was pretty sure Frank's world just crumbled.

A/N: Please review! :D