James Tiberius Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
boldygoing) wrote2018-10-16 08:18 pm
boldygoing) wrote2018-10-16 08:18 pm
Entry tags:
Sleeping Re-Arrangements [for losthunter]
It's easy to lose track of the months when you spend your life counting stardates.
Jim sits in one corner of the officer's mess, a padd propped up against his coffee mug so he can read while he eats, going through the last of the daily reports he has to review. Nothing terribly riveting, of course, so his mind can't help but wander a bit, snatches of nearby conversations filtering through the dry monotony that is maintenance logs.
"-happened down in the xenobotany labs yesterday?"
"-call him tomorrow, I've been saving up transmission time-"
"-and the comet's loaded with iron, right? So I say-"
"-can't believe it's almost Halloween already. I wonder if the replicators can make candy corn?"
Jim freezes mid-scroll, his breath catching in his chest, the word Halloween sinking in like a stone thrown into a deep, deep lake, its cold settling into his bones and up his spine. The conversation behind him has already moved on, but he stays, tethered to that single word as it echoes endlessly through the silence in his head.
He's not hungry anymore, but he eats his dinner anyway. Every bite tastes like ash.
* * *
It's been weeks since Zunar came to Hunter's side, providing comfort and companionship as only a kneazle can. It's become routine for him to snuggle up to the human in the evenings, claiming a spot on Hunter's bed for himself before the man even comes to bed, and meowing at him until they're both settled in for the night.
Not tonight.
Zunar sniffs around until he finds Hunter's PINpoint, chirping, and pushes it towards Hunter with a paw. Hey, you. You'll need this.
Jim sits in one corner of the officer's mess, a padd propped up against his coffee mug so he can read while he eats, going through the last of the daily reports he has to review. Nothing terribly riveting, of course, so his mind can't help but wander a bit, snatches of nearby conversations filtering through the dry monotony that is maintenance logs.
"-happened down in the xenobotany labs yesterday?"
"-call him tomorrow, I've been saving up transmission time-"
"-and the comet's loaded with iron, right? So I say-"
"-can't believe it's almost Halloween already. I wonder if the replicators can make candy corn?"
Jim freezes mid-scroll, his breath catching in his chest, the word Halloween sinking in like a stone thrown into a deep, deep lake, its cold settling into his bones and up his spine. The conversation behind him has already moved on, but he stays, tethered to that single word as it echoes endlessly through the silence in his head.
He's not hungry anymore, but he eats his dinner anyway. Every bite tastes like ash.
It's been weeks since Zunar came to Hunter's side, providing comfort and companionship as only a kneazle can. It's become routine for him to snuggle up to the human in the evenings, claiming a spot on Hunter's bed for himself before the man even comes to bed, and meowing at him until they're both settled in for the night.
Not tonight.
Zunar sniffs around until he finds Hunter's PINpoint, chirping, and pushes it towards Hunter with a paw. Hey, you. You'll need this.
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