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It takes Loki less than a week to gain the animosity of the entire crew, less than a month to garner their grudging respect. He never fully gets along with any of them, never properly manages to form a friendship, and his relationship with Spock is the most strained, if the most--interesting, the way they fight constantly, yet voices are never raised and conversations always civil. It leaves him with goosebumps and, as Bones put it once in an undertone, it's fucking creepy, is what it is, and you know it, Jim.
That being said, the Enterprise's deep space mission has been going particularly successfully, Loki's warped sense of strategy working well as a bridge between Spock's logic and Jim's urge to just get in there and do something when they encounter unknowns. The two years that follow Loki's arrival are the happiest Jim can remember being for a long, long time: Spock at his right, straight-backed and a small quirk to his lips; Loki to his left, perched on the arm of the chair ( the Chair ) with mischief in his eyes. The both of them saying "Captain" in that exasperated tone that just makes Jim want to drag one, or both, of them back to his quarters to, well.
Back to his quarters.
( not that he'd admit to the whole "both of them" thing, not where they can hear it. he does value his balls, after all )
Since his arrival, Loki constantly paces the ship, walking from one end to the other and taking great pleasure in scaring unsuspecting crew-members when he suddenly steps out of mirrors and windows. Dressed still in his green and black, linen and leather, Jim's never managed to convince him to put on the customary uniform that makes crew members easily identifiable.
I am not a member of your crew he says haughtily every time, chin raised at a proud angle; Jim just laughs and kisses him, and doesn't voice his thoughts aloud about how Loki totally is. Everyone else doesn't even pretend not to see. They simply rolls their eyes and keep working, and ignore it as Loki wraps a possessive arm around Jim's waist or leans across his shoulders like a particularly large cat. Spock is always simultaneously acidic and attentive after such public displays of affection, and sometimes, Jim feels like the rope in a perpetually potentially-lethal game of tug-o-war. It's as frustrating as it is flattering.
( dark hair and pale skin, breaking their calm and reducing them down to yes and please and god wouldn't that be a sight )
( . . . but then they'd kill each other and that's the opposite of sexy )
---
Loki never says anything, but as each month passes (two years, seven months and counting), Jim can see the walls slowly go back up, the way his smile holds less and less warmth when he's on the bridge. The way his pranks have gone from purely light-hearted fun to toeing the line of malicious, though he's never actually hurt anyone yet--Jim wouldn't stand for that, and they both know Loki knows it.
The way he sighs James so quietly when he slips into Jim's bed late at night and leaves before Jim wakes, and is so careful to never, ever, call him anything else as he leaves scratches down Jim's back and bruises along his thighs. No one else has ever called him "James", not unless he's in trouble and then it's always James Tiberius Kirk, and he suspects that's why Loki uses it. Not because he's constantly in trouble, obviously, but because it's something Loki can consider his and Loki's always been a possessive little shit. Which Jim means with the utmost affection, of course.
In public, though, it's still Captain, and, come on, it's totally not Jim's fault that he sometimes turns to look at Spock when he hears it, only to catch the brief flicker of--of something that crosses Loki's face when he corrects his mistake. Besides, it's not as though it's never happened the other way around, and Spock's never seemed to mind.
Jim pretends not to notice the way Loki's been sleeping less and less and has taken to watching him when he thinks Jim's asleep. Pretends not to notice the way he's been trailing his fingers against the walls of the ship as he walks, the corridors and halls, pretends not to notice the way he's been using his magic so much more often (and wasn't that a hilarious conversation, the first time Spock saw. magic isn't logical, after all) and the way Loki has spent more and more time at the large windows, staring out into the vast space beyond. He wonders if Loki recognizes where they are.
---
It's late, and Jim's bed is cold.
The door never opens, but suddenly, he knows, and something tells him to stay still and keep his breathing steady, his eyes shut. His gut's never steered him (too) wrong before, and Jim can't shake the feeling that something's terribly, terribly wrong.
"O Captain, my Captain," he hears Loki say, so soft it's barely audible even in the silent darkness, and he fights the inexplicable urge to laugh, hysteria rising in his chest. He remembers when Loki first encountered the poem, the way he read it over and over again, fingers brushing the page as his lips moved silently, brow furrowed.
He remembers that night when Loki came to him and covered his eyes with one hand as his other traced patterns Jim doesn't understand down his chest, patterns that stung and tickled and, when he peeked through the gap between Loki's fingers, shone in lines of green and gold as they melted into his skin. Even without knowing the runes, Jim could guess what they probably meant from the way Loki's palms were clammy and the way he trembled as they kissed. Protection. Because Loki had seen him die, and Jim still remembers the stark terror he had woken to, the wide eyes and pale face and he never wants to see Loki look like that again.
( spock cried for him, once. he still has nightmares about it )
When Loki sits down at the head of his bed, Jim doesn't open his eyes, but neither does he feign sleep any longer as he brings up a hand and lets it rest, open, next to his pillow. There's a long pause, an unnatural stillness before Loki takes his hand, fingers curling loose around Jim's own. That's all there is, Loki sitting beside Jim's pillow, leaning against the wall. Their fingers linked as Jim breathes slow and steady, in and out.
It's when Jim's almost asleep again, that Loki finally moves. "Oh, Captain," he says again, reverently, and brings Jim's hand up to his lips. He kisses the knuckles, then turns Jim's hand and kisses his palm before gently setting it down by Jim's head. "My captain," Loki leans down and brushes the hair off Jim's forehead, kisses him there, once, before he rises to his feet.
"Loki!" Jim jerks up to a sitting position, eyes wide, but it's too late. But for the icy drop on his cheek, there's no sign of Loki ever having been in his room. And Jim knows, beyond a shadow of doubt, that he'll never see Loki again.
It's unfair how much that hurts.
( you promised you'd stay, you promised )
( but the god of lies cannot be trusted )
( . . . yeah, fuck that shit. goddammit, loki )
---
There are two planets just barely visible in the distance, just under an hour away in warp speed, though in opposite directions of each other. One shines with a golden light, kind of Venus-y, though it's more of a meteorite than anything else. The other one gives off a pale blue gleam with a large dark spot covering about a fourth of the planet, maybe more. Neither responds when the Enterprise tries to hail them, though scans show there are life-forms on both. This either means their technology isn't advanced enough, or it isn't compatible with Star Fleets and, to be quite honest, both are pretty possible.
Jim flips a coin to decide where they're going to go, heads for shiny, tails for blue; it lands tails up.
They touch down at the edge of the big black spot, where it doesn't seem like there's anyone alive. It doesn't seem like there's anything alive there, actually, and it gives everyone a case of the shivers. Still, exploration's what they do, and exploration's what they're gonna do, so Jim taps Spock and Uhura to suit up with him, bundling warm into a million layers since this planet's air is breathable but it's also made of ice or something. Jesus fuck it's cold.
When they step outside, the first thing he can think of is whoa, because it's gorgeous and sad and desolate. They're standing at the edge of a huge canyon, that they could tell from inside the ship, but the perspective had been all wrong to see the way the icicles aren't actually icicles at all, but are broken pillars and walls and it's an architectural wonder, is what it is, that seems to have been carved through by a huge laser or something. It's like the earth one day just caved in for no apparent reason, melted in spots, even, and all this culture and history went with it.
They snap photos, dictate notes, take tiny pieces of the ice in sample kits, and are thoroughly startled when there's suddenly movement in the distance. When the natives comes into view, Jim draws in a startled breath, which is thankfully drowned out by the oh god that's big please don't die Jim that Bones gets out from where he's watching on the bridge.
"I'm Captain Jim Kirk, of the USS Enterprise," he says, as loudly and clearly as he can, takes a gamble and ignores the hissed what are you doing this is not our plan, "and we come to Jotunheim in peace."
( he remembers blue skin covered in intricate whorls that he'd traced with his tongue, long lashes that framed brilliant red eyes, and he hates how the ache of loss hasn't lessened over time )