Fandom: ST: TOS
Genres: Fairytale, Fluff
Summary: Jim Kirk is gifted with magic of a very special kind.
Date Of Completion: December 29, 2008
Date Of Posting: January 15, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Paramount does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 838
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Written for my LJ Second Anniversary Fic Request Meme for jij. Pairing: Kirk/Spock. Prompt: Forest.
Jim Kirk walked through the woods, swinging his basket as he whistled a merry tune. The forest was cool and green, reflected in his hazel eyes.
He liked it in the forest. It was quiet except for the chittering of birds and small animals.
He was picking mushrooms and looking forward to eating the fruits of his labor when he stopped.
“What…?” He rubbed his eyes.
“I am real.”
Perched on a giant mushroom was a small man dressed in green. Or rather, a small leprechaun. Pointy green shoes matched a pointy green cap.
That wasn’t the only thing pointy.
“Forsooth, your ears!”
The leprechaun nodded gravely, liquid brown eyes observing him. “Are they not elegant?”
“They are.” Excitement laced Jim’s voice. “Do you own a pot of gold?”
Jim set his basket down. “Then I must catch you to get it.”
“If you can.”
Jim grinned. He lunged, but the leprechaun leaped off the mushroom and raced away.
Jim ran through the forest after the elusive leprechaun, visions of gold dancing through his head. He could certainly use the money, as he was in danger of losing his home. It had been a hard winter and a rainy spring, and the crops had not fared well.
“Ho, leprechaun, you are fleet of foot!”
The leprechaun disappeared into the high branches, Jim slowing in frustration. He stood looking up at the tree, hands on hips.
But of course the creature did not answer.
Jim searched for an hour but finally gave up. He went back and picked up his basket and gathered mushrooms, returning home.
Jim sighed as he cooked the mushrooms. Looking around his modest dwelling, he regretted losing the leprechaun. He did not want to lose the family farm. He was proud of the Kirk legacy.
He ate his modest meal and after reading for an hour, prepared for bed.
A sound outside caught his attention. An animal, perhaps? It was late for any farmers or villagers to be out and about.
A scratching sound at his door. Frowning, he strode toward it and opened the door.
His eyebrows rose in astonishment.
“You…you are the leprechaun!”
“I am Spock.”
The leprechaun, full-sized now, came into the house.
“What are you doing here?”
Spock turned, a slight smile curving his lips. “I have come to ease your loneliness.”
And with that, Spock stepped forward and kissed him.
Jim was stunned, but he kissed back. When they broke apart, Jim looked at his visitor with a twinkle in his eye.
“You have grown since last I saw you.”
Jim was drawn to the otherworldly beauty of this creature, and he was lonely.
He noticed the slight green cast to the leprechaun’s skin.
Well, he would not be a Son of the Emerald Isle if he did not fancy green.
He drew Spock into a kiss.
Sex with a leprechaun was magical, to be sure. Spock was tender and passionate and murmured words in leprechaun language, Jim supposed, but it sounded like music to his ears.
His chest was furred and his body thin but strong, long fingers carding through Jim’s hair.
“The color of spun gold,” Spock murmured.
Jim’s fingers slipped through shining ebony hair. “Like pure silk,” he said softly.
“You are made of gold. And your eyes…truly, they are gold, green, champagne…”
Jim’s finger traced a pointed ear. “Very elegant.”
“Of course,” Spock said.
Jim snuggled close to his leprechaun. Ah, a humble boy of the auld sod, gifted to know the magic of a leprechaun in the biblical sense!
And, my, he had really been green in every way!
Jim’s fingers entwined around the jade cock, gently stroking.
“Ah, you are insatiable, my Golden One.”
Spock rolled over and kissed him. “Allow me to pleasure you again.” Jim eagerly complied.
When next he awoke, he was alone. Saddened, Jim stared up at the ceiling.
Of course it wouldn’t last.
He rolled out of bed, resigned to another day of toil. It had rained last night, soothing him any time he awoke. He looked out the window and gasped. He rubbed his eyes, stared, rubbed them again, then ran outside.
A rainbow arched from the clouds down to the ground, a mountain of gold piled high at the end beside an iron pot, more spilling out from the pot. A note was under the pot.
Gold for my Golden One.
Jim Kirk kept his farm and helped his neighbors keep theirs. He became a well-known benefactor, expanded and remodeled the cottage, and became a patron of the arts.
He never married but seemed happy, gently turning away the matchmakers of the village.
After all, who needed marriage when an elegant-eared leprechaun visited you every night when the stars came out, rain or shine, leaving a rainbow come the dawn?