If you could go anywhere, where would it be?
Who: Jim and Hermione What: They talk about dreams, captain chairs. When: Several days ago Where: Jim's apartment Rating: PG-13 for making out on the captain's chair Status: complete!
Jim had done a cursory cleaning of his apartment. The hallway from the door was filled with pictures of sailing ships, and a new telescope sat on the balcony, visible from the ground. The hallway opened out to a living room. There was a beat up couch, a shelf full of books, and an unusual chair in the center of the room, facing a large screen HDTV.
There were two bedrooms, one filled with books, astronomy equipment and relics from the age of sails.
Hermione knocked on the door. She hadn’t gone home after class, as she’d met with Tonks before stopping by the library and coming here. It had been a long day, and she was smoothing over her hair while she waited for him to answer the door. Of course, Hermione’s hair was something like Harry’s, and it would never behave the way she wanted it to. She was the queen of fly-aways, but at least it suited her. She was pretty, even with bushy brown hair.
The other part of having been out all day was that she looked exhausted. Especially since she’d had that terrible nightmare and not a whole lot of sleep afterward the night before.
Jim didn't mind her hair. It was wavey and wild and a little mussed, and always dead sexy like that. He knew women who would kill for her hair.
He opened the door, barefoot and wearing jeans, with a beat up Navy t-shirt on, "Hey, come in. You look like you need a drink."
“Boy do I ever.” Hermione responded, because she’d heard her father say it after a long day at work, not because she actually knew what drinking really felt like. Sure, a glass of wine with dinner with her parents, but she’d never had a drink to de-stress before.
The sight of him made her smile, though. He was incredibly handsome, even in a beat up t-shirt. She stepped into his place and glanced around, eyes coming to rest on the chair in the living room. It was... familiar. Very familiar.
His hair was a little messy, but this was Jim Kirk, when wasn't it? The chair sat there, tauntingly. Jim also had a phaser, but that was safely put away somewhere.
He made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, "Coke, beer, or something harder?"
Messy was the only way to go. It gave him part of his rugged charm. Hermione didn’t have to try too hard not to think about that at the moment, though, as the chair was talking to her. Not literally, of course. She walked into the room, her purse falling down off her shoulder and catching in the crook of her arm. She couldn’t take her eyes off the chair.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said, softly. “This is some chair.” She was almost afraid to touch it. Was it a replica?
He came back with some import beer and handed her a bottle, "Funny story about that chair. Woke up one day and walked out and it was there."
He sat down in it. He belonged there. It looked like he was born for it, "Not the only item to mysteriously appear. A little model of a ship. A weapon." He paused, then added, "My car."
Hermione accepted the bottle and lifted it to her lips to sip. When he sat in the chair, it was amazing. It was like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together, and it really was beautiful. She was caught off guard by it, in all honestly.
“...they were just... here?” She asked. Like Ron and his wand, she thought.
"Just here. Well the ship model was hanging from the rear view mirror." He flashed her a grin, "They seemed to come with my dreams. Speaking of."
He got out of the chair and guided her to the couch, "Tell me about yours."
Hermione moved with him to the couch, her eyes on the chair for most of the way. Once she was settled on the sofa, she took a deep breath. “It was horrible,” she admitted, then let out a gush of air. It felt good to talk to him about it. He wasn’t connected in any way, it felt safe to tell him how she really felt.
Putting his arm around her, he pulled her close and kissed the top of her had, "Tell me about it. I'm not going to judge. Believe me, my own are crazy enough. And I know someone who dreams about being a pony. You're not crazy."
“A pony might be easier.” Hermione said, though she melted a little against him. It made her feel a bit guilty inside. She sipped again from the bottle. Beer wasn’t her favorite, but it was already making her feel a little warm in her limbs, which would probably help her talk about it.
“I was with my friends Ron and Harry, and we’d just... appeared... in the woods. Apparently, it was some sort of spell, apparition, and I’d been in charge of performing the spell. Well, I made a little mistake. All right, a big mistake. I did something called splinching, and Ron was badly injured. There was so much blood, I could smell it. It was all over my hands, all over the ground...” She felt emotion rise within her at the retelling of the dream, so she swallowed more beer, swallowing it down. Her hand was shaking on the bottle.
"Magical ponies?" Jim grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows, "Well, Pegasi." Was Pegasi a word? It was now. He rubbed at her shoulder and arm, and listened.
He squeezed tightly. Blood was a smell you never forgot, and he was saddened that she'd ever had to smell or feel it, "A mistake doesn't have to be big to have large consequences. Was he okay?"
“Yes.” Hermione said, collecting herself a bit. He was warm and comforting, and made her feel safe. She picked at the label on her bottle with her thumbnail. “I was able to heal it... or well, heal some of it, with a bottle of essence of dittany, a magical herb from that world.” She paused. “I had this bag that held everything we needed. Everything, tents, sleeping bags, books, potions, clothes... it was a tiny, beaded bag with a charm on it making it much, much bigger on the inside.” That part was a tricky bit of magic, and she was rather proud of it.
It made Jim think of McCoy's magical little bag of medicine and medical machines. What they could do with that in this world. Or with the healing magic Hermione had used. Prime Directive be damned, it could save people's lives.
"So like Mary Poppin's bag?"
Hermione smirked. “Very much.” She leaned back against him and rested her head against his shoulder. “I had these strange... feelings in the dream. Feelings about my friends that I’m not sure how to process.” Admitting it felt really good. She hadn’t told Ron, hadn’t talked with Tonks about it too much, but somehow telling Jim made it more real.
Her eyes landed on the chair again. “So, that chair... the model... was it the Enterprise?”
"A lot of the time you don't realize how much people mean to you until you've thought you lost them, or you're thrown into a stressful situation. Sometimes you realize just how strong the friendship is. Other times, the friendship is forged in those fires."
Jim reached across from her, picking something off the coffee table, and held it out. The damaged model of the Kelvin was in his hands, "Not a bad guess, but not quite right."
His words made a lot of sense. Too much sense. Hermione wasn’t sure she really wanted Ron to mean that much to her. A lot? Sure. But in her dream she felt like she was in love with him. “How much have these dreams affected your real life?” She asked him. “How much of it bleeds over?”
Hermione reached over to run her finger along the model ship. “I knew it had to be something along those lines,” she said, softly. “That’s just... amazing. It appeared here without your trying to find it?” The idea of things spontaneously appearing would have been a ridiculous concept to her only a day or so ago. But now she wasn’t so sure. Everything seemed possible.
"It gave us the inspiration for the engine that took us to the moon," Jim replied. "It gives me something to look to. Focus. I've always lacked a direction before."
He nodded at the chair, "Was there one day. Seemingly out of nowhere."
Hermione didn’t want to think about her own dream for a moment. She didn’t want to think about Ron, and whatever it was that was going on there. She wanted to live a dream. “Can I...” She grinned at him as she motioned toward the chair. “...can I try it out? I promise I’ll be gentle.”
A sly grin passed over Jim's face, and he gestured at the chair, "Feel free. I'm sure it will welcome a rear end as finely made as yours."
Hermione grinned brightly, leaned up and in and tapped a kiss against his cheek, then climbed up off the sofa and stepped carefully across the room to the captain’s chair. She ran her hand very gently along the back. It was a beautiful chair. She turned to grin at Jim, then slipped slowly and gently into the chair. She gave a gentle sigh and relaxed back a little.
His grin got wider at the kiss, and he leaned back to watch her. Someone was a bit of a geek, he thought. He wondered if she had consciously made the connection yet. Or if she'd believe him. There seemed to be a lot of mental blocks, of people who just sort of look the other way, or don't make the association.
Hermione sat up a little, at attention, and glanced around the room, as if imagining the bridge of the ship all around her. She lifted her hand and gave a gentle point of her fingers. “Engage.”
It was like a dream come true. She grinned over at Jim. She knew what the chair was from now, but hadn’t quite put together who he was. She was a Next Generation kid. Besides, she knew him as Jim, not Captain Kirk.
"Does this make me or you more of a geek," Jim asked her, grinning a bit. "You'd look good. Movie uniforms maybe. The grey ones. You'll need a bald cap to go with it."
Hermione laughed. “I think I’d look a bit more than ridiculous in a bald cap.” She said, shaking her head and lifting her hands to push down her hair. “...You can’t be him, though.” She hadn’t quite put it together yet. She had most of it, but not all of it.
“Who are you in your dreams?”
"I have too nice a head of hair," Jim agreed, eyes twinkling in amusement. "And I prefer a bit more of a take point type of leadership. I couldn't imagine standing on the bridge while my crew was put in danger and I wasn't."
Hermione gasped, then broke into a huge grin. “I know... who... you are...” She said, doing a very, very terrible impersonation.
Jim laughed, and gave her a bigger hint, "Close, wrong timeline."
“Wrong timeline?” Hermione’s forehead wrinkled a little. She’d only seen that movie once in the theater with her father before he left for Australia. But then she came to the final realization. Her eyes went a little wide. “You’re... him?” ...now she was really, really impressed.
“No wonder you’re such a hottie.” She teased, breaking into a grin.
Jim laughed, getting to his feet and walking to the chair. He caressed the back like it was a lover, "Crazy, isn’t it? It wasn't really all that difficult for me to accept. A timeline where I'm fictional? Why not."
That’s what he figured out. That’s what the dreams were all about. Hermione’s head was spinning a little. She actually felt slightly light-headed. Who was she, then? Who was she, if she was having dreams... at least one, so far. Did that mean she was going to find out that she was a fictional character in another timeline?
...also, Jim Kirk was dating her. That made her feel even more light-headed. Or maybe that was the beer. Speaking of, she hadn’t finished hers. She’d have to finish it when she wasn’t in the chair anymore.
"You all right?" He moved his hand to her shoulder and squeezed, "Don't fall over now." It was like he was used to unusual revelations of this nature.
"Relax." He stepped behind her and rested both his hands on her shoulders, almost protectively.
Hermione turned her head a little and glanced down at his hand. Now it was easier to believe that he’d been in space. She lifted one of her hands and rested her fingers on top of his. “It’s strange. The realization that alternate universes are, in fact, real. Makes your head spin a bit, doesn’t it?”
"A little bit. But I've always been a believer, and a dreamer. If the Enterprise ever shows up, I promise you a tour." He leaned down kissing the top of her head.
"I could even be wrong, but having some explanation is better than wondering where these dreams come from."
Hermione nodded. She didn’t like things that couldn’t be explained. On the other hand, there was something exciting about this. Like it was the start of a new adventure. She wasn’t really sure what to think.
“How does your story end?”
"I don't know yet," He replied, sliding his hands down her arms, then slipping his arms around her from behind. "More adventures, I'm certain."
“How does it feel to know who you are in another universe?” She asked, turning a little to look up at him over her shoulder. He was so very close, she could see his stubble, smell his musky scent. How was he so handsome, even this close?
"I don't know. I never stopped to think about it. It's me, I'm me. Maybe I'm the same person, maybe I'm not. Probably am, where it counts." Jim peered down at her, his light eyes bright and piercing.
“Where does it count?” Hermione asked, blushing just a little as she gazed into his eyes.
His voice was soft, "Why don't you tell me?"
“I think everywhere counts,” she responded gently. Though, her voice was a bit distracted as her brown eyes were locked with his.
"I never went to Starfleet," He pointed out. "And washed out of bootcamp. Disciplinary issues. I seem to be the only one in my circle who wants to see what's out there."
That, most of all, depressed him. He couldn't entirely blame Spock. Not wanting to see of Vulcan was there - or not there. But it was depressing all the same.
“In the dream,” Hermione said, as if his voice snapped her back to her senses, “I was missing my final year of schooling. We were on the run from the law, and couldn’t finish school.” She paused, then broke into a gentle grin. “I guess we’re both drop-outs?”
Jim laughed, "You? A fugitive? Do you have any tattoos in interesting places? On the lamb. I'd bet you'd look good in stripes."
Hermione flushed. “No, no tattoos. It was discrimination in its most vile, evil...” She shook her head a little, not wanting to let the rage and fear bubble up within her again. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t normally wear stripes.” She gave him a shy smile. “I bet you’d look good in stripes, too.”
"I assure you, Ms. Granger, I don't have a criminal record." A beat, then he added playfully, smootching her on the cheek, "An adult record."
Hermione grinned, going rather pink at the kiss to her cheek. “So, you did all your felony law breaking before you turned eighteen, then?”
"Damn right," He replied, "But you never heard it from me!" Deftly, he lifted Hermione out of the captain's chair, sat down, and pulled her into her lap, "One time, in Idaho, a friend and I snuck into a pumpkin patch at night."
Hermione gave the start of a yelp when he lifted her, but wrapped her arms up and around him and let him carry her in a fireman’s hold. She settled in his lap when he was seated in his chair.
Her mind was spinning for a moment again. She was curled up in the Captain’s Chair with Jim Kirk. It was amazing. She lifted her hand to let her fingers tangle their way through his hair, playfully.
“What did you do in the pumpkin patch at night?”
"Viewer discretion was advised, for what we carved into those things," Jim replied. He splayed his fingers on her back, sneaking them under her shirt to stroke at skin. The other hand he left resting in her lap.
Hermione gave a laugh. “Naughty. Did you get caught?” Her free hand came down to take hold of his in her lap.
"Nope. Everyone knew it was me, but they couldn't prove a thing." Jim squeezed her hand a bit, fingers stroking her palm a little bit.
"They had guards up the next year."
Hermione grinned. “Well, there you go. Someone learned something.” She glanced down at his hand holding hers in her lap. “Where’s your favorite place in the whole galaxy?” She asked, after a moment’s pause. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”
"That's a tough one, and a bit unfair," He replied, eyes following her gaze, then looking up as he tilted his head back.
"On that ship, then I could go anywhere."
“Who would you take with you?” She asked.
"Well, I'd want people who wanted to go. People I trust, and people who want to see and explore as much as I do." There were names at the top of that list from his own timeline, and none of them he was remotely sure of wanted to go. Certainly none of them seemed as into the dreams as he was. There was a certain kind of loneliness in that.
"I've got a few people I'd offer to take with me."
“Would you ever come back home?”
"Good question. Eventually." Jim lifted his eyes to her face, "I'd have to. There'd be people I'd want to see. Knowledge I'd want to give to the whole world. That's the point, isn't it? Learn and explore, and share that."
“Make the world a better place.” Hermione said, smiling warmly. She lowered her hand from his hair to rest along the seat behind him. It was smooth and soft, but still firm to the touch. The most comfortable kind of chair there was.
“I know you would, too. Or, you will.”
Jim lifted a hand to Hermione's face, and gently turned it towards his. He leaned his head in, pausing just short as if to give her a say on if they kissed.
There was a lot of confusion in her head and in her heart. She couldn’t tell if any of this was real, or if it was a dream. And if it was a dream, did that make the dream world real? It almost felt like a betrayal to Ron to be doing it, but she was in the Captain’s Chair, in his lap, and he wanted to kiss her. So she leaned in herself, and let him do it.
Jim let the kiss linger a bit, light and fluffy, before he pressed in a bit more and deepened it. His hand stayed on her cheek and the other remained in her lap, clasping her hand. Hermione could escape at any time, if she could just leave the pull of Kirk's gravity.
Hermione didn’t mind. He sure wasn’t getting anything more than a snogging session, her heart might break from guilt. She was enjoying herself, very much, but there was a part of her in the back of her mind that couldn’t help thinking about Ron.
Jim might have been a little put off if he'd known. He'd understand, a little, missing Janice and Isabela, but right now the only woman on his mind was in his lap.
And he was a very accomplished snogger.
Hermione hadn’t snogged that many people. At least, not like this. A part of her was thrilled, and another part was terrified, and yet another part felt terrible guilt. She tried to push it all out of her mind and let him kiss her, and it worked for the most part. He was an excellent kisser, and Hermione really needed a good snog.
She pulled back to breathe heavily after a couple of minutes, resting her forehead against his.
He grinned at her, stroking her cheek and then threading his fingers through that mess of gorgeous hair, "Felt like a good moment for that." He thought she was a pretty good kisser, herself.
“That was a very good moment.” Hermione breathed, then lifted her head just enough so that she could look into his amazing eyes. “Thank you.” Then she felt a little sheepish for thanking him for a kiss.
"Thank you?" He grinned at her, his eyes seeming to glint. He shifted underneath her. For reasons, "You're welcome. Would you like another, it's kind of addicting."
“Well, sure,” she gave a little laugh. “It’s better than saying ‘I’m sorry,’ anyway.” Hermione was rather pink and grinning sheepishly. “I’d like another, please,” she said, then leaned in for it.
Never one to disappoint a lady, Jim kissed Hermione back, sliding the hand in her hair down her neck.
It was nice. They didn’t do much more talking, but enjoyed some pleasant kissing. Making out, even. Hermione didn’t want to lead him on, so whenever the kisses grew to a passionate peak, she did her best to bring them back down to a chaste level. And then she noticed the time. It was getting incredibly late, and she had class in the morning.
After a couple of particularly passionate kisses, in which Hermione displayed her best tongue tangling skills, she pulled back to breathe again. “...it’s so late,” her voice was almost whiny. Not quite, but almost. She didn’t want to leave. “I have class in the morning, I should go.”
Jim had to give himself a moment or two before it was safe to stand. But then he stood so he could walk her to the door. His hair was beyond ruffled, and he sounded a bit out of breath, "Got plans tomorrow night?"
“I don’t know. Do I have plans tomorrow night?” Hermione asked him, turning to look at him with her hand on his door handle.
"I'll pick you up at six," He replied, then pulled her back to give her a hungry, intense kiss.
Hermione was swept off of her feet. Not quite literally, but close. The intensity of the kiss made her knees weak, and she couldn’t help but respond in kind. She was going to be pent up for the rest of the night, no doubt. Unless she took matters into her own hands.
After a moment or two (okay, or three) she pulled back and gave him a pink-lipped, shy smile. “See you at six.” She said, then opened the door to let herself out.
Jim waited a few minutes, then made a bee-line for the shower.