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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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."

She just squeezed his hand when he said he hoped her words were true. They drifted into silence, but she couldn't quite relax and in spite of feeling completely drained didn't think she could sleep. He didn't seem relaxed either. She knew she should have talked to him about the situation sooner. She should have resolved the situation sooner, but all she could do now was be relieved and grateful that he was giving her another chance. That and speak to Trent and her father as soon as possible.

She felt him shift behind her and looked up at him as he tilted her face. The tender kiss instantly melted some of the tension inside her, and as it deepened her heart beat a little faster. She kissed him back with all her limited experience and limitless love for him. His words made her shift to turn towards him, heart constricting in her chest. "You are," she promised. "I love you, Jim. No one will ever kiss or touch me but you. I would have told you if I hadn't been trying to fool myself into thinking that it wasn't an issue, that I couldn't really be involved in something I'd never agreed to, but I've never considered letting anyone touch me but you."

When she started to explain again, he placed a gentle finger on her lips, silencing her. "Please... No more talk about that. Not now." It still hurt too much to even think about, there was still too much residual anger pent up inside him to hear her reasoning for not coming clean about the nature of her relationship with Trent.

Laying his hand on her heart, he looked down at it, watched the difference in their skin tones, and wondered how something that was so beautiful in his eyes could ever be the cause of so much hate. "If I thought I could get away with it, I'd marry you in a heartbeat, you know..." he whispered quietly, eyes still focused on his hand. "I'd get a better job, one that paid enough to be able to provide for you, I'd get you a nice little house somewhere with enough rooms to raise a family. I'd take good care of you. Keep you safe. We'd have a nice wedding where your father walked you up the aisle, and later..." Glancing up at her, a bit of his usual, mischievous humor found its way into his eyes. "Later, I'd make love to you until dawn. It'd be the best wedding night ever. And you'd be mine. For the rest of my life, you'd be mine, and I'd never have to worry about anyone stealing you away from me."

She wanted to give some sort of explanation as to why she hadn't said anything, but the words died on her lips when he silenced her, and she nodded, trying to contain her guilt.

The hand over her heart made it beat a little faster, and though he was looking down at his hand she watched his face as he spoke words that knocked the breath out of her. Joy filled her when he described dreams that so perfectly matched hers, but hearing him doubt that she was really his kept the smile from her face. Still, she couldn't keep the wonder out of her eyes or the slight pink tinge off her cheeks. She glanced down to look at the place where they touched, to the one difference that would keep her father from giving them his blessing. "You wish you could marry me?" she whispered, eyes flickering back up to meet his. "You don't know how many times I've wished that, how badly I want to be your wife... But Jim, I'm already yours. No one could ever steal me away. Not ever." Her eyes stayed on his as she spoke, trying to convey her sincerity and searching for signs as to whether or not he believed her.

A slightly shy smile appeared on his face when she asked if he really wanted to marry her. "Yeah," he nodded, ignoring the gathering moisture in his eyes when he looked at her. It was just the draft from the windows. He really should get that fixed soon. "I'm not really the marrying kind, but I do. I want to marry you and share my life with you and have little coffee and cream colored babies with you."

The fantasy of all that swam in his head, and that probably went a long way towards making him trust what she was saying to him. "The only thing that's stopping me is all the hate they'd have in their life because they'd happen to be ours. All the names they'd be called... It's not fair to them, they wouldn't have a choice."

An idea suddenly struck him, and he turned around to rummage through the drawer of his nightstand. Not finding what he was looking for, he upended it over the bed, digging through plectrums, condoms, his old dog tags and an assortment of other paraphernalia. He grinned triumphantly when he found what he was looking for, then turned back to her and put the simple gold band in her hand. "It was my brother's. Maybe we can't be married officially, but would you do it unofficially? Right now? You can wear it in a chain around your neck or something so no one will notice, but we'll know that in every way that counts, we're married. Fuck what the rest of the world knows if we know, right?"

She blinked back the tears that flooded her eyes when he said he wanted to marry her and have children with her. She had always wanted to give her kids a brighter world and a better life than she'd had, but he was right that any children of theirs would face a world of prejudice. Her heart broke and a tear trickled from the corner of her eye. "I want to marry you, Jim. I want to have your children. I know how little acceptance they'd find, but you'd be the most wonderful father..." She couldn't quite bring herself to agree that it was a bad idea, not when she wanted it so badly.

When he turned away she shifted to face him completely and watched curiously as he dug around in the drawer. Then he placed something in her hand, and her eyes widened when she saw what it was. Even if she'd dreamed of marrying him in front of an alter with her family there beside her, it didn't matter as long as they were each others. "Yes," she said breathlessly, a few happy tears trickling down her cheeks. "God, yes. I love you so much, and no matter what the world thinks I want to be with you. Forever. I'll always keep it with me, and even if I can't always wear it on my finger, I can now, right?" She slid it onto her finger almost reverently, knowing how much he must treasure his brother's ring, and stared down at it with eyes alight with happiness. "It's perfect."

Something shifted inside him at the sight of her happy tears, and the reverence with which she put on the ring. It was hopelessly big for her finger, but she didn't seem to notice. It felt like everything snapped into place when she agreed to marry him right then and there, and he fought to keep the moisture in his own eyes at bay. "I love you so so much, Nyota. I'm sorry you have to settle for this instead of the wedding you deserve. But at least we get each other this way."

Chuckling to himself, he kissed her passionately, pulling her into his arms to hold her to him. "You're what's perfect. It's probably a good thing you can't wear the ring, it's way too big for you. You're welcome to wear it now, but it'll fall off and get lost in the mattress." Another heartfelt kiss, and he reached out for his old dog tags, opening the chain to slip the ring onto it and put it around her neck. "There. Now there's no doubt about who gave you the ring, about who your husband is. You can tuck the tags in your bra or something, keep it from making noise with the ring on there, maybe take the silencers off." Okay, so maybe he was rambling just a little bit. He just didn't really know what else to do with everything he felt at that moment, with how happy she'd made him at the end of a day that had been anything but. Making himself shut up for a moment, he took both her hands in his and kissed the backs of them gently. "I promise to never stop loving you, and I promise to be yours until the day I die. I love you more than anything, Nyota."

She shook her head fervently when he said it wasn't the wedding she deserved. "As long as I have you I'm happy," she replied, melting into his embrace and returning the passionate kiss. Her heart felt as if it was about to burst from happiness. It might not be a marriage in the eyes of anyone but the two of them, but no one else mattered. From this day forward she would be a married woman. Mrs. Kirk.

"It's not too big," she protested, though it clearly was. "And nothing will ever be as perfect as you." It was probably for the best that she wear it on a chain so as not to lose it. As he fastened it she held her hair out of the way and then took the tags and the ring between her fingers to look at them. The happiness in his voice was such a wonderful contrast to the anger and sadness of earlier. "These are your military tags," she said softly, feeling honored that he was giving them to her. "I'll never take these off." The ring and the tags would stay around her neck always. Her eyes met his as he took her hands and kissed them, heart swelling with joy at his promises and declarations of love. "And I promise to always love you, every moment of every day for all of my life. I promise to stand by you and to never stop being yours no matter what challenges we face. I love you with everything that I am, Jim, and I always will."

As difficult as it was for him to reign in his happiness, this moment was much too significant and important to not enjoy every second of it. So he calmed himself so he could listen seriously to every word she spoke, soaking up the meaningful words and letting them heal the hurts he'd felt so keenly earlier in the day. But they were married now. Nothing like that could ever come between them again. He wouldn't let it.

He cleared his throat once, aiming to keep his voice relatively steady, though he couldn't wipe the brilliant grin from his face even if he'd tried when he quietly gave her hands a little squeeze. "I now pronounce us husband and wife. I may kiss the bride, yes?"

Not waiting for her answer, he pushed forward, taking her face in his hands again to kiss her with every bit of love and joy he felt. His forward momentum meant that they ended up mostly horizontal, but hey, they were married now. He was allowed to get his wife (his wife! How weird was that?!) horizontal any time he damned well pleased. "Hi, Mrs. Kirk..."

The look in his eyes soothed her lingering guilt and sadness over the pain she'd caused him. Now there could be absolutely no doubt about who she belonged with. Come hell or high water, nothing and no one would ever be able to pry them apart - not a world that disapproved, not even her family.

When he pronounced them husband and wife her heart fluttered happily, a few more joyful tears slipping from her eyes. It was nothing like the wedding she'd always imagined, but it was completely and utterly perfect.

The moment his lips met hers she was kissing him back, gasping slightly into his mouth when she found herself lying on her back, but then she was nibbling at his lips and gliding a hand through his hair. When he addressed her as Mrs. Kirk she let out a happy laugh and kissed him again. "Hi, Mr. Kirk..." For her whole life she'd dreamed about marrying someone she really loved, but this was so much better than all her daydreams.

For his part, Jim had never really considered getting married. It just hadn't been something he saw in his own future. Sure, he'd had a moment of weakness at Sam's wedding where he'd wondered if he'd ever meet someone he loved enough to want to spend the rest of his life with. But until he'd met Nyota, it had always been a hypothetical maybe for him.

And here he was now. Married for all intents and purposes with his blushing bride laughing sweetly under him and nibbling on his lips. In this very moment, life was perfect, and he only spared a second's thought to hope Sam had gotten to feel this happy with Aurelan on their wedding night.

Which brought another, far more interesting and pleasing thought to his mind. One that made him grin wolfishly at her. "You know, Mrs. Kirk. It's just occurred to your beloved husband that there is one thing off the list he mentioned earlier that is within his powers to give you..."

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