nyota_uhura24 | [SOL! Verse - I Heard It Through The Grapevine]

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[SOL! Verse - I Heard It Through The Grapevine]

Finally it was Monday. Nyota usually went several days without seeing Jim during the week, but the wait between Saturday and Monday always felt like forever. Thankfully her father had mostly recovered from his illness and told her he didn't mind if she kept her weekly dinner date with “Anna.” She felt a little twinge of guilt every time someone used the name she'd invented to cover for her relationship with Jim, but as always she ignored it. She deserved her happiness.

Besides, she really needed to be out of the house tonight. Trent and his mother were coming over for dinner, and she'd been avoiding him since Saturday night, which was... Just what in the world was that? He usually managed the diner on weekdays, but because her father was ill he came in on Saturday night. After closing they found themselves alone in the kitchen, and while she was talking to him about Jim's music he tried to kiss her. She panicked and turned her head away, downright nauseated by the idea of anyone but Jim kissing or touching her. She knew about her father's hopes, of course, but had never known that Trent wanted any part in them. He apologized profusely when she told him how very improper it was, and she fled before he could say anything more.

She had been hoping to steal a few moments with Jim that night, but perhaps it was for the best that he was already gone when she left the kitchen. There could never be anyone in her heart but Jim, but she knew she'd have to reconsider her assumption that Trent opposed their marriage. But surely... surely he didn't actually want to marry her? They'd been close friends for so long that she thought of him as a cousin, almost a sibling. Maybe he was just trying to please their parents. She knew on some level that she'd have to figure it out eventually, but for now she just wanted to spend time with the man she loved. Smiling a little to herself and putting Trent far from her mind, she walked into Jim's building and took the elevator to the top floor, where she knocked quietly on the door.

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"How--" he started, then had to stop and take a second to calm himself to prevent his voice from breaking. "How can you not have noticed the way he looks at you? He doesn't look at you like a cousin, he looks at you like you belong to him. He looks at you like-- like he's just biding his time until he gets you into his bed, like it's his right to have you in his bed, and it makes me sick to even think about."

The mental images of her with Trent, of him kissing her and touching her the way he'd been the first to do had haunted him ceaselessly since he'd seen them together in the kitchen. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Trent was attracted to her, and it was hard for Jim to believe she'd really never noticed.

"Nyota, I-- I can't do this. There's only so much pain a man can take before he reaches his breaking point and I-- I've had more than my fair share in my life. I have lost everyone I've ever cared about. If I'm going to lose you too, then please, please, I beg you, walk out that door right now and never look back. While I can still convince myself I'll get over it."

The way he talked about Trent made her falter momentarily in her single-minded attempt to convince Jim that she loved only him. Of course Trent's attempted kiss was a bit of a wake-up call, but now her mind raced over the course of their acquaintance, and suddenly seemingly friendly touches and looks took on a different meaning. Her mouth went painfully dry, a slight chill of fear running down her spine at the idea of Trent thinking that she was his, that he had a right to kiss her, that he had a right to... The very thought made her stomach lurch nauseatingly. At one time, before Jim's touches, she had vaguely considered agreeing to the marriage, but now that she knew what it would entail she also knew with absolute certainty that it would never work. "I didn't know," she echoed. "We've been friends since childhood. I could never feel that way for him, so I assumed that he didn't either... I... I'm not his. I could never be his," she insisted, as much for herself as for him.

The next words made her eyes snap to Jim's. It had long been obvious to her that he'd lost a lot, that he had hurt more than anyone ever should. Trent was still an issue, but it was more than that. She'd gone into this relationship knowing they didn't have all the answers. Someday someone would find out. Images filled her mind of her father and brother's anger and disappointment, of her sisters and little Ikinya's hurt and confusion, but... But I love him. I will always love him. "You're not going to lose me, Jim," she said quietly, earnestly. "I don't know how to make my family accept it, but being with you makes me happy in a way I never knew I could be. I hate that I've hurt you. I never want to hurt you, but I don't know how to stop loving you. I don't know how to walk away from you."

For a moment, he wondered if she was really so naive as to think that because she felt a certain way, Trent felt the same, simply because they'd known each other for so long. It didn't really seem possible, but then again, there were a lot of things about her that he hadn't thought possible.

When she stayed, despite his explicitly given reasons that she should leave, he prayed to whatever deity might exist that she wasn't doing it out of some selfish need to prove a point to herself. That she did it because she really did love him, and that she'd weather whatever storms they'd face when her family found out about them.

His eyes met hers, and he nodded slowly, not knowing what else to do. As much as he wanted to keep doubting her, he loved her too much to let her go against her will. "I want you to tell Trent in no uncertain terms that you have never, and will never have any intentions of marrying him. I want you to make it clear to your family that you have no intentions of marrying him. You don't have to tell them about me, it's best that you don't, but I don't want there to be any doubt about your relationship with Trent."

It felt foolish now to not have noticed Trent's feelings. Now that she understood the way Jim usually looked at her, she could recall the same expressions on Trent's face. But while Jim's love and desire made her feel the same, Trent's continued to make her slightly nauseous. She had tried to fool herself into not noticing because it was easier that way. It was going to be a lot more difficult to stand against their parents if Trent wasn't on her side... but she would. There were some things she couldn't compromise on.

She nodded slowly at Jim's request. "I will," she promised, completely serious and admittedly a little terrified by the prospect. "I should have done it ages ago. And I'm - I'm 21. I'm sure I'll be hearing about it soon anyway. I think my father knows I don't want to marry him, but he's always assumed that I'd still do it... for the family. Kamau doesn't want the diner, and Dad doesn't want to leave it to him, so he'll probably leave it to Trent instead..." She swallowed hard and nodded again. "I'll tell Trent I'm not going to marry him. And then... then I'll tell my dad."

At her reassurances, he nodded slowly, the tightness in his chest dissipating a little. "Okay..." It wasn't okay, not really, not until she'd actually done it. But he knew how hard a decision it was for her to make, how much her family meant to her, and how painful it would be for her to go against their wishes.

Dropping his gaze to his feet, he let himself believe that there was a small shimmer of hope for them, however vague and fleeting it might seem at the moment. "You know I'd be there with you if I could. If it wouldn't do more harm than good. I'd stand by you when you tell them. I will stand by you if you ask me to, regardless of the consequences."

Okay... She exhaled slowly, and for the first time since she'd walked into the room she felt as if she could breathe again. The pain and tension was still thick around them, but he seemed to believe her. At least he wasn't asking her to leave anymore. She wanted to desperately to hug and kiss him and tend to his injured hand, but she wasn't sure he'd welcome it.

When he promised to stand by her a few more tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and her voice cracked as she replied. "God, you have no idea how much I wish I could walk up to my father holding your hand and tell him that I love you... But I can't." She took a shuddered breath, forced herself to continue. Confronting her family wouldn't be easy, but Jim was worth every ounce of fight she had in her. "I'll know that you're standing by my side even if you're not there, but I have to do this myself. And I will... Believe in me. Please."

A small, sad smile ghosted across his face, and he looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly at the thought of being able to just go to her father and ask for her hand. Of being accepted into the family as the man she loved, of having her father give him a half-teasing warning and a pat on the back.

"Actually, Nyota, I think I do have a pretty good idea about it." For someone who never planned ahead more than a day or two, the thought of forever with her had become a terrifyingly frequent daydream. They might never get their happily ever after, there would be too many fights down the line for that, but perhaps, they could just have the 'ever after' part. Bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair, he exhaled slowly, some of all the tension draining away, then sucked in a sharp breath. Oh. Right. He'd almost forgotten about his bleeding and now rather swollen knuckles. "I, uh--" He huffed out a small, almost inaudible laugh and stared at his hand like it had just sprouted from his arm. "I think I hurt my hand a little."

Her heart did a little flip in her chest when he said he had a pretty good idea what she was feeling. Her mind still couldn't grasp how they would work in the long run, but every time she imagined her future he was in it. Briefly images glimmered in her mind of marrying him, of having children with him, of growing old with him, of things she scarcely dared to dream of but didn't know how to stop wishing for. The saddest part of all of it was that the most insurmountable problem was something as insignificant as race. "I wish every day that I didn't have to pretend I'm not madly in love with you," she said quietly.

When he finally realized the state his hand was in she automatically stepped towards him and then paused, still uncertain how he was feeling towards her at the moment. "Can I... It needs to be tended to, Jim," she said, slowly walking closer and reaching for the injured hand.

"Yeah... You and me both," he added almost shyly, still looking down at his hand. Now that he'd noticed the damage, it really did kind of hurt. A lot. In the throbbing, stinging way. Wincing, he wiggled his fingers a little, testing their range of motion, just to make sure nothing was broken. It didn't seem to be, but it wasn't easy to tell with how swollen his knuckles had become.

When he looked up, she'd moved closer, and he hesitated for a second or ten, not quite sure how comfortable he was with her getting too close after the emotional rollercoaster he'd just been on. "There's, uh-- some iodine in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. It just needs to be disinfected and put on ice for a bit. Maybe get some tweezers, there might be some splinters stuck in there."

She swallowed around the lump in her throat when he agreed with her, still feeling as if she was treading on thin ice but immensely relieved that they seemed on their way back to the way things were for. But they weren't really going back; they were going forward. She was committed to the first of many undoubtedly painful steps to ensure that her family couldn't pry them apart.

She'd been keeping her worry about his hand in check throughout their argument, but now she looked at the bleeding and swelling with open concern. Very gently laying her hand on his wrist, she tried to urge him in the direction of the sink. "You should rinse the wound," she said softly, sensing his hesitation to her touch. "I'll get the iodine and tweezers." She managed a small smile and then walked towards the bathroom, returning a few moments later with the medical supplies.

It wasn't often he let himself indulge in such divulging displays of emotion, and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd poured his heart out to someone the way he'd done to her today. The last time might have been to Sam, but the details of that conversation were fuzzy at best, thanks to copious amounts of alcohol. There was no alcohol involved now, and his earlier outbursts left him feeling exposed, every raw emotion out there for the world to see and stomp on.

So it was more because of the vulnerability he felt than any desire not to have her touch him that he sucked in a breath when she put her hand on his wrist. He hated feeling vulnerable. Hated it. "Mmm, good idea," he muttered, turning on the faucet in the kitchen sink then held his hand under it. As he listened to her steps retreating into the bathroom, and the sound of her rummaging around in his medicine cabinet, he stared vacantly down at the water trickling over his hand, and tried to just remember how to breathe again.

Her heart sank a little at the sharp inhale, and she tried not to walk too rapidly into the bathroom. She deserved his mistrust, his anger, but it still hurt to have him not welcome her touch. Alone in the bathroom she paused for a moment and leaned against the sink, hands clutching the porcelain to keep from shaking. It struck her, once again, how very much she'd hurt him and how close she'd come to losing him. She hadn't thought of her "engagement" as something decided, but hearing Jim talk about it made her feel foolish and guilty for not dealing with it or talking about it earlier.

She wanted to think only about him when she walked back out into the kitchen and to his side, but dealing with the outside world was an important part of their relationship right now. No part of her could regret staying when he ordered her out the door, but the consequences of their decision to be together were more than a little daunting. Her hand reached for his under the spray but then aborted its movement. "May I?" she asked softly, stealing herself for refusal. Whatever he needed right now she wanted to give him, even if it wasn't her touch.

There was still a part of him that was very angry with her for not telling him about her family's expectations that she marry Trent. Maybe she didn't perceive herself as engaged, but the rest of the world obviously did. But he was too emotionally wrung out to really notice the residual anger much. Mostly, he was just very, very tired, and wanted nothing more than to just curl up with her in bed and hold her.

When she returned from the bathroom, he still hadn't gotten further than simply holding his hand under the cool running water. The urge to withdraw his hand when she reached for it was there, but he suppressed it. It would do them any good if he distanced himself from her, no matter how much he wanted to. With a small nod, he held out his hand to her, keeping his eyes on it rather than her.

She could sense his hesitation to her touch, but was immensely relieved that he allowed it anyway. She needed to reaffirm their connection somehow. He'd always put himself out there for her, always waited for her to be ready to meet him half way, but this time she was going to have to keep showing him her love even if he couldn't do the same. She just wished she knew what he needed to hear from her.

When he offered her his hand she gently guided it under the water again and used soap to clean the bruised knuckles and the area around the small cuts. Then she turned off the water and cleaned the cuts with iodine, eyes flickering between his hand and his face. "It looks like there's a little splinter," she said softly, picking up the tweezers. "I'm going to pull it out, okay?" Still carefully holding his hand in hers, she delicately slipped the prongs against the cut to extract the small splinter of wood.

The simple truth of the matter was that he didn't even know himself what he needed to hear from her. As far as he was concerned, they'd done more than enough talking about the subject for the day, and he didn't really have anything more to say to her at the moment.

The soap stung a little when she cleaned the abrasions on his knuckles, but it was far from something he couldn't ignore. Her hands were as gentle as always, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth as the fact that he'd woken up that morning thinking he'd never feel her hands like that again hit home for him. It was much too painful a thought, and he was almost grateful for the sharp sting of the iodine ending that train of thought. He grimaced a little when she applied it, then nodded when she got the tweezers to get out the splinter. "Sure, go ahead." With that done, he turned off the water with his free hand, giving hers a little tug to have her follow him as he moved to the bed. "I don't know about you, but I'm pretty exhausted..."

She resisted the urge to wince when he grimaced. Cleaning the wound was necessary, but she hated seeing him experience any pain at all, especially right now. She may not have slammed his fist into the cabinet, but this pain too was her responsibility. Her fault. "Sorry," she whispered, though it didn't feel like she was talking about the cut. She'd never thought she would cause him physical pain, but now her mind was full of potential consequences of their relationship. If Kamau found out... She forcibly shook off the thought.

When she was done cleaning the wound she thought about bandaging it, but letting it breathe wasn't a bad idea either. The minute cuts looked almost closed anyway. She'd been half afraid that he wouldn't want her to stay the night, so her heart lifted a little when he tugged her in the direction of the bed. Being wrapped up in his arms had become one of her favorite places to be. "Me too," she said, following after him and gently twining her fingers with his, careful of the injuries.

The finger-twining, lovingly meant as it was, made him emit a pained little sound, and he switched sides so he could let her have his good hand. The non-swollen one without the sore knuckles and joints. Stopping in front of his bed, he moved to stand closely behind her, then leaned in to press a kiss to the back of her head with a sigh. "Do me a favor and don't talk?" he muttered quietly, his hands moving to rest lightly on her shoulders. Whatever they had to say to each other about what had happened could wait until a time where he didn't feel as exposed as he did right now.

His hands skimmed down her arms to the hem of her shirt, then slowly began to ease it off her, his lips still pressed against her hair. There was nothing sexual about the way he slowly undressed her, sensual perhaps, but this wasn't about getting off. It was much more simple than that; he just wanted to be as close to her as possible without anything separating them.

She loosened her hold on his fingers at the pained sound, heart clenching a little because she was still hurting him. It felt as if everything she did hurt him. She held his good hand as gently as she could, very lightly caressing his knuckles with her thumb. When he asked her not to talk all the words she wanted to say sprang to her lips. I love you. I need you. Please forgive me. Please let me stay here forever. I love you and only you. But the least she could do was honor his request, so she just nodded silently, squeezing his good hand.

Her breath caught a little as he started to undress her, because even though this wasn't about desire it still felt novel to have him touch her and remove her clothes. She lifted her arms to make it easier for him to get her shirt off, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. Her eyes drifted closed, body instinctively leaning back a little against him. The tenderness in his touch felt like so much more than she deserved right now, but she physically ached to have him close to her, to have his arms around her.

There was a moment or two where he worried that she might think he was going to try to coerce her into something she wasn't ready for, or even that she might think this was about sex when it really just wasn't at all. In an attempt to communicate his intentions, he deliberately steered clear of any erogenous zones as he removed first her skirt, then her stockings and garter. It was achingly similar to the first time she'd let him undress her in his bathroom, but where his lips and hands had wandered then, they didn't now, just removed each piece of clothing gently, but efficiently.

Once she was naked in front of him, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then discarded of his own clothes with a bit more efficiency. There would always be a small flame of desire when they were naked together, but that kind of intimacy was just a little too much for him to feel comfortable with right now. "I just wanna hold you, okay?" he whispered against her temple and started moving them the last few feet to the bed so they could climb in.

His touches didn't feel like seduction. They just felt like love and affirmation, which was a bit of a relief. She wasn't sure she could refuse him anything right now as long as he didn't ask her to walk out the door. His hands on her skin left a low simmering fire in their wake, but rather than feeding that desire she really just wanted to hold on to him. The blush on her cheeks darkened when he removed the last of her clothing, but she tried her best to ignore the lingering shade of embarrassment. There was no reason to be shy now.

Her heart broke a little when he said he just wanted to hold her, and she nodded again, wondering if he still wanted her to be silent. "Of course," she whispered, hand finding his good one again so she could tangle their fingers together. Even though she still wasn't sure how to behave she tried to stay as close as she could while they walked the last few steps to the bed and climbed in.

He hadn't meant that she wasn't allowed to speak, just that he was pretty much all talked out by now. He'd poured all his feelings out for her to see, and it would take him a while to get everything back in the appropriate boxes and put the boxes back in their right places.

Once they were both in the bed, he lay on his side and fitted her closely against him, one arm going around her waist to hold her, the other pillowing her head so he could run his fingers through her hair. With a long, tired sigh, he looked out the window, watching the sky darken and just enjoyed having her in his arms again like he hadn't thought he ever would again. "I, uh--" he began quietly, pausing to collect his thoughts. Okay, so maybe he wasn't all talked out, but he didn't really feel like talking things over with her. It was a peculiar situation. "I don't know what to say... I don't know, because if I say things, you'll want to respond to them, and I don't think I can deal with that right now."

The soft sigh that slipped from her lips when he fitted her against him sounded more like relief than anything else. She pressed just a little closer, struck as always by how very right it felt to be in his arms. His bare skin against hers eased some of the tension coiled in her limbs. She'd almost lost this cherished embrace, and even though he was holding her she wanted to cling to him. She laid her hand over the one around her, letting her fingers slip into the spaces between his.

After considering his words for a few moments she said softly, "If you need me to just listen, I'll just listen. I promise I can do that... If there's anything I need to respond to, I can do so in the morning. And if there are things I don't need to respond to... that's okay, too." The idea of holding her tongue through whatever he might say wasn't particularly appealing, but if it was the only way he could talk to her now, she wanted to let him talk. She owed him that and so much more.

Edited 2011-04-21 03:59 (UTC)

Being in close physical contact with her always calmed him, always made him feel safe and appreciated. Even now, when she had been the one who had hurt him, he still found comfort in being close to her. In spite of their fight and the feelings of betrayal, she still offered him a quiet, constant strength he could borrow when he needed it. "You don't need to respond to this," he replied, hoping she'd understand that while she might want to, this wasn't one of the things he'd want to talk about again.

"Nyota, you have to understand something... When I say that you're all I've got, I mean it. Literally." His voice was quiet and slightly hesitant as he spoke, as if he feared what power the words would have over him once he'd spoken them aloud. "I've lost everyone else. I lost my dad the day I was born. I haven't talked to my mother outside Christmas and birthday cards since..." He paused, taking a deep breath before he continued in a whisper. "I saw my brother, his wife and their unborn child blown to pieces right in front of me. I haven't talked to her since I came home for the funeral. I understand how important family is to you, but when I say I don't have one, that I don't have anyone, I really mean it. I don't know if I could stand losing you as well."

She listened carefully as he spoke, fingers gently stroking his. The picture he painted made her aching heart shatter. He'd been through so much, lost so much, and she'd allowed him to think he might lose her, too. Even though there was so much Nyota had always wanted and couldn't have, she had always had a loving, supportive family. They might not see eye to eye on everything, and they might be the biggest obstacle to her relationship with Jim, but they loved her and she them. And though it ached every day to not have her mother with her, she had years of loving memories to keep her heart whole.

To know that Jim had never known his father, had lost his brother, didn't speak to his mother, made tears spring to her eyes. She knew she couldn't replace the family he'd lost, but she renewed her silent vow to always stand at his side, no matter the cost. If it weren't for the colors of their skin, she could have offered him another family as well. Her father and sisters all liked Jim - if it weren't for the race barrier they might have welcomed him into the family. She blinked back the tears and realized suddenly that she was squeezing his hand so tightly it might hurt. She loosened her grip but didn't let go. You're not going to lose me, my love, my world, my everything. He'd asked her not to respond, so she just curled tighter against him and whispered an almost inaudible, "You wont."

Edited 2011-04-22 00:36 (UTC)

The earlier feelings of betrayal still lingered even if she'd explained herself and stayed with him. It had hurt so much to think that he was nothing more than a pleasurable distraction for her, and a part of him stubbornly refused to forgive her and believe that she really was his. But the part of him that needed her, that needed to believe her and trust that she wasn't deceiving him was stronger and took comfort in the way she pressed herself as closely against him as she could.

"I hope that's true," he whispered, mostly to himself, then fell silent for a while. Despite his exhaustion, he was still restless, still struggling to get his feet back under him and regain his equilibrium. It would be so easy to coax her into something sexual, so easy to chase away all his turbulent emotions with mindless pleasure, but it wouldn't be fair to either of them. And anyway, he doubted he could distance himself emotionally from something like that right now, and he wasn't ready to let himself be that exposed to her again. Not just yet. Shifting on the bed, he tilted her face so he could press his lips tenderly to hers in a slow kiss that gradually deepened. "I love you, Nyota. I love you, and I want to be the only one who ever gets to kiss and touch you like this."

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