Scars: I’ll write your character touching my character’s scars or vice versa

      Jim woke to the feel of fingers tracing lightly over his chest, the sensation a slight tickle across his skin from lack of feeling there. Ever since the other Uhura had wound up in his universe through an odd transporter accident, he’d kept her hidden away in his quarters where she could be left alone. He was always careful to give her her space, something it didn’t seem like she got enough of in her universe, particularly from her Jim. The fact that they were even in bed together just then was a rarity, Jim having elected to sleep on the small couch he had (Captain’s quarters really were the best.)

      Too tired to really think when he’d gotten in the night before, Jim had just automatically crashed on his bed after stripping off his shirt, Uhura totally forgotten at the time. Her decision to sleep in the bed despite his presence made him smile sleepily. It meant he’d made enough of a positive impression that she didn’t think of her Jim when she saw him. 

      Yawning, his hand came up to cover hers on his chest, head turning so he could look at her through sleep narrowed eyes. “Morning.” Jim gave her a small smile, thumb brushing over the back of Uhura’s hand. “What were you doing?” 

     Uhura shrugged before answering. “Just looking. I’ve seen them all before but somehow it’s different with you. Scars aren’t trophies here like in my universe. They seem so much harsher on you than on my Captain.” She explained quietly, returning to her task of tracing the scars on Jim’s chest, following them down to his abdomen and around his sides. He shuddered lightly, watching her hand a moment before his eyes returned to watch her face. 

19. Forceful kiss

He doesn't know what the fuck is happening. Everyone is terrified of him and everyone who will even look straight at him stares at his cheek with the strangest face he's ever seen. His new black and yellow pants and exactly as tight as his clubwear, his shirt covers about as much as Bones's does when the man's in the Georgian sun, his boots are fucking ridiculous and nothing makes sense.

He probably looks a little crazy, but not as crazy as he feels.

He yelps when he's tugged sharply into a side corridor, and the other thing that keeps him from asking a lot of loud and frantic questions are a pair of lips closed over his mouth. Teeth nip sharply at his bottom lip- a second more and his entirely mouth is occupied.

Cateye-lined dark eyes stare into him, narrowed. His own are wide. He knows those eyes, and they belong to his chief of Communications.