Then I should know, shouldn't I? [ Jim laughs, his wry little smile expanding into a full-blown grin. They'll figure it out, the pair of them. As much as Jim jokes around and grouses at Peter, he does care about him.
Hopefully, seeing him back in the cozy element of this little cottage by the shore, baking cookies, is far enough removed from the horror of the warehouse as to help ease the memories. Jim's not pressing the issue - well, he probably will, in terms of talking - but pressing on Gwen's comfort zone? No, he's well aware that wouldn't be helpful. He's had...some experience there, himself.
He listens, hands still working the dough for the next line of cookies on the sheet, focused on the task so Gwen doesn't have to deal with him staring at her as she explains. He does look up at the tail end, empathy clear in his expression. A far cry from the crazed, haunted-madman situation he portrayed, whilst under the influence.
It's true - he does understand. He really, really does. In fact, he was worried that Spock's experience with his own Jim was coloring his opinion too much - that Jim would never be able to match up. He understands now that it's...well, it's still a worry in some ways, but largely false. Largely a product of his own problems, and not a reflection on Spock. That Peter hasn't yet reached this conclusion - it was hard won. Jim's not necessarily surprised. ]
He is the same, in the ways that matter. [ There's no use pretending that he's not. That Gwen would have cared for Peter as immediately as she did if he weren't a version of someone she already had a connection to - it's impossible to parse, with how inextricably the two are linked. ] But...caring for one person can never replace or erase caring for another. Both can be true.
Spock doesn't look like my Spock, either. I don't look like his Jim. We're both different, in some respects. But like I said - we're the same in the ways that truly make us...us. You know what I mean? [ Jim can't imagine Peter quiet, or reserved. But then, he could never have imagined his Spock being as congenial (it's the only word that comes to mind, even if Jim is also the only person in the universe that would ever ascribe that to the Vulcan) as the one that resides here in Aldrip. His Spock back home is - angry. Persnickety, snappish. Their bickering has more bite, a product of a different universe. ] Peter will come around. He'll realize it, eventually. You just - keep showing up for each other, and it'll get through.
I'm sorry, about your Peter. [ Jim's tone gentles, the last line of cookies on the sheet completed, hands resting in the dough bowl. ] It's never easy, when someone you care about lets you down.
Would I joke about something like this? The future is awesome. [ Jim grins, eyebrows rising, before he turns to find an oven mitt - yeah, he's burned the shit out of himself more than once, forgetting that the antique appliance actually got hot. ] Uh...the what? What are 'Jetsons'?
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Hopefully, seeing him back in the cozy element of this little cottage by the shore, baking cookies, is far enough removed from the horror of the warehouse as to help ease the memories. Jim's not pressing the issue - well, he probably will, in terms of talking - but pressing on Gwen's comfort zone? No, he's well aware that wouldn't be helpful. He's had...some experience there, himself.
He listens, hands still working the dough for the next line of cookies on the sheet, focused on the task so Gwen doesn't have to deal with him staring at her as she explains. He does look up at the tail end, empathy clear in his expression. A far cry from the crazed, haunted-madman situation he portrayed, whilst under the influence.
It's true - he does understand. He really, really does. In fact, he was worried that Spock's experience with his own Jim was coloring his opinion too much - that Jim would never be able to match up. He understands now that it's...well, it's still a worry in some ways, but largely false. Largely a product of his own problems, and not a reflection on Spock. That Peter hasn't yet reached this conclusion - it was hard won. Jim's not necessarily surprised. ]
He is the same, in the ways that matter. [ There's no use pretending that he's not. That Gwen would have cared for Peter as immediately as she did if he weren't a version of someone she already had a connection to - it's impossible to parse, with how inextricably the two are linked. ] But...caring for one person can never replace or erase caring for another. Both can be true.
Spock doesn't look like my Spock, either. I don't look like his Jim. We're both different, in some respects. But like I said - we're the same in the ways that truly make us...us. You know what I mean? [ Jim can't imagine Peter quiet, or reserved. But then, he could never have imagined his Spock being as congenial (it's the only word that comes to mind, even if Jim is also the only person in the universe that would ever ascribe that to the Vulcan) as the one that resides here in Aldrip. His Spock back home is - angry. Persnickety, snappish. Their bickering has more bite, a product of a different universe. ] Peter will come around. He'll realize it, eventually. You just - keep showing up for each other, and it'll get through.
I'm sorry, about your Peter. [ Jim's tone gentles, the last line of cookies on the sheet completed, hands resting in the dough bowl. ] It's never easy, when someone you care about lets you down.
Would I joke about something like this? The future is awesome. [ Jim grins, eyebrows rising, before he turns to find an oven mitt - yeah, he's burned the shit out of himself more than once, forgetting that the antique appliance actually got hot. ] Uh...the what? What are 'Jetsons'?