Fandom: Star Trek
Pairings/characters: Jim Kirk x female
Words: 1205

I had agreed to go on a date with Captain James T. Kirk. My brain said no, but my heart screamed yes. And that kiss I had stolen in the mess hall the other day, was too good not to experience again.

On the morning after I had kissed him, he caught me in the hallway and told me he'd be outside my cabin at 1900 hours on Friday. I asked what he had planned, but he had just brushed the question off and told me to wear something nice but comfortable. He had looked very proud of himself when he walked away.

I was awfully curious, and as I stood in my small bathroom getting ready, I was fighting a storm of butterflies in my stomach. I was more nervous and excited than I thought I would be.

When 1900 hours finally arrived, I was dressed in a brand new pair of jeans and a red blouse. The door chimed almost on the second, and I couldn't help but wonder if Jim had been standing there, counting the seconds.

The doors slid open and there he stood, looking dashing in black trousers and a crisp white shirt, hair neatly combed and proof of Scotty's nickname for him. In his hands were three long-stemmed red roses. His blue eyes shone as they gave me the once-over.

"Hi," he breathed, offering me the roses.

"Hello, Captain. Roses? Thank you! I'm impressed." I gestured for him to come in so I could find a vase for the roses.

"Good. You look amazing, by the way."

"Thanks," I said, rummaging around in the cupboard under the replicator. "I feel a little underdressed compared to you though."

"You're not. You're perfect."

Holding an old forgotten empty bottle in my hands, I stand up and look at him. There was something in his voice and the way he looked at me that seemed a bit out of character from the Jim I knew. "Thanks," I replied. "Think this will do as a vase?"

"Saurian brandy bottle? That should do."

I filled it with water from the bathroom and then set the bottle and roses on the bedside table. "There. I'm ready to go."

Without a word, Jim held out his arm for me, and he guided me through the hallways, into the turbolift. "Observation deck 2," he told the lift, and it promptly sped off. The ride was spent in silence, and I tried my hardest not to fidget in the awkwardness, I was still holding onto his arm.

Just when I was about to burst out something just to end the quiet, the turbolift came to a halt. The doors opened to reveal a scene like from an old movie. There was a table by the window, a white cloth draped over it. A vase with another red rose stood in the middle, plates, cutlery and champagne flutes on each side. A smaller table was next to it with three silver cloches covering something that smelled delicious and a silver champagne bucket on it.

"Wow, Jim," I said, letting go of his arm and walking inside, taking it all in. The moment I stepped onto the deck, music began playing, a rocky classical piece.

"No no no! Computer, stop the music!" Jim exclaimed, hurrying into the room. "I requested old classical music, not classical music. Computer, play old classical music." The same drumbeat and guitar riffs filled the air. "No, dammit! Computer, stop the music! I'm sorry."

"It's okay, we don't need music." I was a little amused by the fluster in Jim's voice and the way he seemed very stressed.

"No music. Have a seat." He walked over to one of the chairs and held it out for me. I sat and he made sure I was seated comfortably, before moving to the champagne cooler and grabbing the bottle. He began working the stopper, got a good grip, winked at me, and the cork snapped off, "son of a bitch!", sailed over my head – I ducked just in time, it bounced off the window and disappeared under one of the seats at the other end of the room. When I looked at Jim again, the champagne was pouring from the bottle, making a real mess on the floor.

I couldn't help it, I started laughing. Jim looked horrified, but I just couldn't stop. I apologised in between breaths, but my words weren't legible. Feeling bad, I managed to get my giggles under control. "I'm sorry for laughing," I said.

"There's still some left in here, I think." He held the bottle up to the light.

"Let's have it then." With slightly shaking hands, Jim divided what was left of the bubbly wine as equally as he could. Then he served the food, which he explained to be crab tortellini with some sauce Hikaru had recommended.

For the first few minutes of eating, the silence was back. I tried not to let it get to me, as we were both busy eating, but when I complimented him on the choice of food, it seemed to break the ice and conversation flowed as easily at it usually did between us. But there was something... Something about the way he spoke that seemed unfamiliar to me. And his entire posture was stiff. I had known him and been attracted to him long enough to know when he wasn't being entirely himself.

When the time came for dessert, Jim stood up to lift the last cloche. "Shit. Fuck."

"What?" I stood up to get a better look, but he quickly put the cloche over the dish.

"Dessert has melted." He moved to sit down and again, and it looked like he wanted to melt too.

"Melted?"

"I replicated salty caramel ice cream. It has melted."

"We don't need dessert. Dinner was good, it was very good."

Jim didn't say anything. He just leaned his head back and ran his hand over his face and then through his hair, ruffling up the perfect look. He took two deep breaths, then looked at me. "I'm so sorry about all of this," he said. "I have to admit I've never done a date like this before."

"Dinner and dessert?"

"The wine and dine and roses and courting."

"You didn't have to do all this for me. I'd be happy with just a replicated burger somewhere fairly quiet where we could talk."

He nodded. "Duly noted. I've also never gone on a date with someone I knew as a friend first." He chuckled. "I can't believe I'm so nervous. And everything went wrong."

"You've been adorable though." I winked at him.

He smiled, then looked around at the room and seemed to be doing some quick thinking. "What about this? I call my yeoman to clean up my mess, and you and I go to the mess hall and replicate whatever we want for dessert? And just talk."

"Will you judge me if I request an unladylike sized sundae and a giant milkshake? And some chips?"

"Not at all. Though I might find myself more attracted to you." He grinned then, and stood and offered me his arm again, this time full of his signature confidence.