Chapter Text
Author’s Note: This occurs on the evening of Jim’s first day of classes at the Academy.
Pike was right.
Jim looked around the crowded cafeteria as he waited in the slow-moving line. All it had taken was a day of classes, and he knew that this was where he was meant to be. Starfleet Academy was an extraordinary place.
Too bad that didn’t extend to the food.
Jim cringed as he looked over the sad prospects available to him down the serving line. Maybe it was a way to weed out those who thought they had to get a decent meal. Space exploration didn’t necessarily mean that you would have three square meals a day.
“Fuckin’ first years.” The burly cadet in front of him let out an additional unintelligible grumble.
Jim shifted and peered around the mountain obscuring his view to the pod of cadets at the start of the long, stationary line of red uniforms. It looked like a couple of them were having difficulty deciding on whether to get the fish or the vegetarian lasagna.
Jim didn’t blame them. It was a choice between slimy or chunky.
“Hey!” the mountain called out. “Fuckin’ choose something and move on!”
“Chill out, man.” Jim continued cheerfully. “See? They’re already moving.” He smiled nicely at the upperclassman who had swung around to glare at him, giving Jim the opportunity to turn on the charm.
By the time Jim had his food, he had plans to meet Clinton, the third-year security cadet – AKA Mountain – tomorrow to work on his hand-to-hand combat skills.
Jim made the turn to the dining room, nodding as they parted, and watched Clinton make his way through the sea of red before them. Most of the four, eight and ten-place tables were full, and the air buzzed with the cacophony of excited, first-day-of-class conversations.
Where to sit? Jim surveyed his prospects. There were a lot of mighty fine looking men and women here.
The tables by the large expanse of windows were occupied by who were clearly the third and fourth-year cadets, making sure they had the best seats in the house. A particularly lovely table of four, sitting in the corner, caught his eye.
Hello, ladies. What better way to introduce himself informally to the upperclassmen. He moved in their direction.
“Kirk!”
The call rang out over the general buzz, pulling his attention to the middle of the room. It was a cadet he had met at orientation, who was indicating an open seat across from him.
He weighed his options. Pulling up a chair to sit with the lovely cadets by the window – shades of his adventure with Uhura drifted through his mind. Or sitting with a friendly face in what was clearly the small, first-year section. His eyes drifted further down the room. But then again …
A figure was tucked into the far corner with his back to the wall, making sure he could repel any sneak attacks. Alone, at a table for four in the crowded room. Even over here, Jim could see the little Eeyore cloud of doom hanging over the guy’s head. He hunched over his plate, eating what looked like the fish entrée and a rubbery pile of what Jim hoped was broccoli.
Jim watched as a young, new recruit approached the empty seats at the table. All it took was a piercing glare from those crazy eyes, and the poor cadet skittered away. It would obviously take a braver soul than that to invade the deadly space.
Jim nodded at the cadet from orientation, indicating where he was going to sit, as he moved across the room. He smiled at familiar faces and winked at several of the female cadets that threw him appreciative glances.
Plopping his tray down on the table, Jim barely asked before he sat down, “Is this seat taken?”
Leonard “All I Have Left is My Bones” McCoy looked up, his scowl set at maximum, before muttering, “Oh, it’s you.”
Anyone without a confident constitution would probably have burst into tears. Luckily, Jim wasn’t that kind of guy.
Jim grabbed his fork and stabbed it into the chunky mound on his tray. “Geez, McCoy, did you lose your tail or something in the Hundred Acre Woods? That little cloud up there is gonna start raining on you soon.” He used the eating utensil to point above McCoy’s head before stuffing the food into his mouth.
Ugh. Bland.
McCoy glared as Jim grabbed the salt shaker from the table and applied it liberally over the lasagna. Realization dawned on McCoy’s scowling face, and he rolled his eyes at Jim.
“Funny. Ha-ha.”
“Ah, you’re familiar with A.A. Milne, then,” Jim said before scooping up another sizeable bite of food. “For a moment I thought I’d have to explain the classic to you, Bones.”
He couldn’t help the satisfied smile he gave his new friend at discovering the perfect nickname for him.
The glare came back full force. “Of course I know who he is. I told you on the shuttle I had a kid,” Bones growled. “And who the hell is ‘Bones’?”
Jim used his fork to point at his lunch companion again before spearing another bite with it. “You are. Leonard is too stuffy a name, and bones, doctor, sawbones…” He stuffed the forkful into his mouth and let Bones put together the connections.
He earned another eye roll, which seemed to be “standard Bones” if he read his new friend correctly.
“Oh, for pete’s sake,” Bones muttered before stabbing a rubbery, almost gelatinous blob masquerading as a broccoli spear. He flipped his own fork at Jim, who was distracted by the green thing flopping up and down. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you? I have a horrible feelin’ I’m never gonna get rid of you.”
“Well, you know what they say, Bones. If you name something, it’s yours.” Jim watched as Bones’s eyebrow reached a new height.
“Oh, good Lord,” Bones groaned. Wait for it. Yep, there it was: another eye roll. “Don’t be such an infant.”
Jim just laughed. Yep, this friendship was going to be epic.