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Eighteen days.
Eighteen days they’d been stranded, with no contact from the Enterprise or any other ship. It had started with a transporter malfunction, leaving them unable to beam up Scotty or the captain. Scotty had cursed them, saying that he could have it fixed in five minutes if only he were onboard. It seemed like a minor inconvenience at the time.
And then a Klingon ship had driven the Enterprise away, and it had been over two weeks since that first day on this horrible jungle planet. Scotty laid awake at night, often, thinking about the possibility that the Enterprise had been destroyed—and then Jim would snore loudly, and Scotty’s chest would swell up like a balloon fit to burst, and slowly deflate as he watched the moonlight ripple across the captain’s skin.
For years, Scotty had loved him, and he had never once expressed it.
It was early in the morning on the nineteenth day, as Scotty dutifully scored it on the branch they’d been using to track the cycle of the planet, when Jim woke up. Scotty stayed on the other side of their makeshift camp as he rose, though every instinct urged him to go to the captain’s side. It was the same as always. They had fallen into a quaint little routine, making do with the limited resources they had available to stay alive, and they often chatted away about nothing to pass the time. Scotty wondered how long it would take for the real feelings to surface. Maybe Jim would confess his glaringly obvious attraction to Spock, and in response, Scotty would continue to pile dirt onto the hole he’d buried his crush in. He hoped they were rescued before that time came.
They killed a strange animal that resembled a boar at midday, and while they couldn’t be sure it wasn’t harmful to eat, they had few other choices. Scotty reminisced out loud about a hunting trip he’d been on in his youth, in Perthshire, and Jim’s eyes were on him the entire time. It made Scotty glad he’d ripped the sleeves off his uniform twenty-two days ago; he was sweating.
“I suppose this is the universe telling you to take shore leave,” Jim joked dryly, stoking the fire with a long stick. He’d made the same joke a week ago. Scotty didn’t mention it. “Well, at least you’re good company, Scotty. This might be a message that we should spend more time together, too.”
Scotty had just taken another bite of meat; he swallowed it, then spoke. “Sir?”
Jim shrugged. “It seems you’re always tied up with something in engineering, and you never want to go on shore leave. It can make a man feel left out in the rain, Scotty—I offer to take you to see dancers, and—”
“With all due respect,” Scotty said, “you remember what happened last time we went to see dancers together, Captain. I almost ended up executed for murder!”
Jim laughed. “So you did, Scott. But, how about this. After we get off this planet, you and I are going to Risa.” He paused. “Not… immediately after, but at some point, we’ll have a nice murder-less vacation.”
“After this, I don’t know if I’ll want a vacation or the opposite of one,” Scotty commented. “I miss my work, but I’m also bloomin’ exhausted…”
“Yeah. I know how you feel.” One of the logs that Jim was poking suddenly fell, disturbing the fire with a loud crash, but nothing more. “They’ll be back to get us soon, I’m sure.”
The atmosphere felt heavier after that. “You said that last week,” Scotty pointed out, sadly. “They would have been back by now, if they were able—”
“Shh, shh. No, Scotty, giving up hope is the worst thing we could do,” Jim said. “We will be rescued, if not by the Enterprise, then the next ship that comes to investigate the same things we did. Even if I have to fight a shipload of Klingons, I will get us off this rock, you understand me?”
Scotty swallowed the lump in his throat. Jim wasn’t the strongest, fastest, nor smartest captain in the fleet, but by God if he didn’t instil confidence in his men. “Aye, sir.”
“That… lieutenant that you liked, what was her name?”
The sudden change of topic, to that topic, sent Scotty mentally reeling. “Which lieutenant, sir?” He’d tried things with a few other crewmen, but none of them had ever worked out, especially not the women. One had blatantly told him that he was too preoccupied with his ship and the captain to ever carry on a successful relationship, and he knew that she was right.
“The one that you tried to fight a god for,” Jim answered, with a wry smirk. “Rather stupidly, as I’d like to remind you. You were almost killed by that thing!”
“Oh.” Scotty hesitated. “Carolyn.”
Jim snapped his fingers. “Yes, that was it. Carolyn. Are you still seeing her?”
Awkwardly, Scotty shuffled his feet along the ground. “We were never really… seeing each other, Captain,” he replied. “But, er, no. And I’m not seeing anybody else, either.”
“Ah, damn. I was going to promise to get you back to your lady love, but it seems I really don’t know that much about you, Mr Scott,” Jim said. “The Enterprise is lady love enough, eh?”
“...yes,” Scotty responded, feeling an ache deep in his chest. “Something like that.”
On the twenty-eighth night, it was cold. A bone-chilling wind had come down from the mountains, and without any formal supplies and too fearful of the creatures in the jungle to keep the fire going all night, it was freezing.
It was Jim that suggested they preserve body heat by moving their makeshift sleeping mats together and layering their knotted leaf blankets. It was Scotty that couldn’t refuse.
“C’mere,” said Jim, gesturing for Scotty to join him. “You’re shivering. You’re gonna get frostbite, Scotty.” He was propped up on an elbow, smiling as if their situation was less hopeless than it had been nine days earlier. When Scotty didn’t move, he continued, “What’s the point of sharing body heat if there’s nothing to share?”
Scotty shivered again, but not from the cold. “I’m coming,” Scotty replied. “Don’ worry about me, Jim.” They’d dropped the titles at some point. Scotty had forgotten when.
“I can’t not worry about you,” Jim countered, his voice quiet. That made it even more difficult for Scotty to slowly walk over and lay down, and Scotty wished Jim would stop watching him. “Comfortable?”
“No,” Scotty grumbled. “I’m going to need a chiropractor if we ever return to normal society.”
He was expecting Jim to shrug that off, maybe make a comment about needing the same thing, but instead, Jim just laughed and said, “Well, let me help.” And he hooked his forearms under Scotty’s armpits and hauled him closer, so that Scotty’s back was pressed against Jim’s chest. His breath tickled the back of Scotty’s neck, and he tried and failed to repress another shiver. “Better?”
“Um,” was all Scotty could say for a long moment. Then he added, “Yes. Better.”
“Good,” Jim replied. “‘Night, Scotty.”
“G… G’night, Jim.”
It was cold again every night after that, and Scotty quickly grew used to his sleeping arrangements including the captain curled against him in some way. Scotty found that Jim was a clingy sleeper—every morning he woke up entangled in Jim’s arms, even if they’d fallen asleep not even touching each other.
He decided that he didn’t mind.
“I love you,” Scotty blurted out on the fortieth night, as one of the moons rose slowly over the distant horizon. They were laying against a fallen tree, fire crackling before them, finishing their halfhearted dinner of nuts and berries that they had long since decided weren’t poisonous. “I just had to tell you, Jim—in case something happens here, and one of us—”
In one smooth motion, Jim turned towards him and sat up on his knees, then pressed a light, chaste kiss on his lips. It lasted barely a second, but it set every nerve in Scotty’s body alight.
“...doesn’t… make… it.” Scotty finished, stunned.
“I love you too,” Jim said simply. “And we’ll both make it.”
Scotty stared at Jim—his torn yellow shirt, his tanned skin, his arms pockmarked with old scars from his youth, and most of all, his stalwart, determined hazel eyes—and asked, “How do you know?” in a breathless voice.
Jim leaned forward and took Scotty’s hand, lacing their fingers together in a firm grasp. “Because,” he answered, “you’ve always been a miracle worker, Mr Scott.”