A/N: Another one-shot. My author's notes are normally absurdly long and chatty but I'm exhausted and my head hurts and I just want this posted. Suffice to say, I fell in love with the Star Trek movie. And I love Kirk. Please excuse any errors, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
James Tiberius Kirk—Captain, James T. Kirk, and how fantastic does that sound?—settles into the command chair with a smile. It feels perfect around him, and his hands slide lovingly over the arms.
He is made for this. For this chair and the view out that window, the stars blurring as they move to warp. He is made for the orders that roll off of his tongue, the commands given to his officers. He is made for the thrill—"set phasers to stun"—and the fear—because yes, James T. Kirk does feel fear, but it isn't crippling fear. It's fear that makes him sharper; it's the fear that comes from being in command of hundreds of lives, of being responsible for those under his command.
He loves it, every little moment of it. That chair around him is perfection, is completion, and he isn't quite sure how he lived without it. He can't imagine being without that sense of control, that sense of authority.
He is made for it, and as he relaxes back in that chair it is fate settling into its course, destiny easing back with a relaxed sigh, because all is right in the world, and Captain James T. Kirk is where he belongs.