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Save the Last Dance For Me - The Drifters Jim hated political events. He hated the dress uniforms with the tight high collars, he hated having to sit there and listen to different officials arguing over pointless things, like agriculture. So there was that one planet in that one system that the Klingons wanted and the Federation wanted. So what if it could grow special Canadian wheat, Jim didn't care anymore. He tugged at his collar, cursing the laundry for making it too stiff to breathe correctly. He fiddled with his medals and badges, anything at all to keep himself occupied during the discussions. He was truly bored out of his mind. And

What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong Lieutenant Uhura opened the door to the observation lounge, slowly entering the room. Her left hand held a cup and saucer, the contents thankfully still steaming, despite how long she'd been searching the ship, her right hand closed and locked the door, mainly for privacy purposes. She walked into the room, looking around before her eyes settled on her target, quickly, but quietly striding over to him. Commander Spock was sitting, back straight despite the relaxing moment, in one of the plush chairs that Captain Kirk had ordered into the lounge. Spock would never admit his enjoyment of these luxuries

It was Christmas Eve, and Jim Kirk was depressed.  He was holed up in his quarters on board the USS Enterprise, lounging on his bed, his lights set on a low setting.  He was still dressed in his command gold, just getting off of Alpha shift for the night.  Part of him regretted not going directly to sick bay to steal some of Bones' hidden stash of wonderful and questionable alcoholic items, but Jim really didn't want any company at the moment.  Instead he was content to suffer his loneliness in silence, the concept at which he had already bitterly laughed at himself for, picturing, in his mind, what Spock would say to that.  Something along t

Call me Irresponsible - Jack Jones The sickbay was quiet, as always, and very empty. Jim was the only one on a bed, perched at the edge, his legs dangling over the side as he stared at the ceiling, humming to himself, the staccato notes in his throat cut short every time McCoy jabbed him with another hypo. For some reason, Doctor McCoy was the only one who could make a hypo hurt. "Bones, come on, it can't be that bad. Stop already." His voice whined as he was stabbed yet again with the sharp point. "It's not that bad, you're just allergic to everything so I gotta take precautions." In reality, the damage to the captain was worse than McCoy

I've Got You Under My Skin - Katharine McPhee Jim stretched his arms wide and grinned slightly up at the sunlight streaming down on his face as soon as the transporter beam let him free. It felt good to be off of the ship and into the sunlight again, even if it wasn't the Terran sunlight. He'd been getting restless, though, just sitting there in his chair, trapped in his own thoughts and zoning a great deal. He'd noticed a few times that upon snapping out of his zoning, he'd been staring at his first officer, and it was starting to worry him. Unconsciously staring at other people, especially certain people, like Spock, was not only unbecomin