Summary: Jim Kirk programmed the computer system for the starship, Enterprise. When one of the crewmen on the Enterprise's first mission to Mars is injured, Starfleet asks Jim to step in. Kirk/Spock AU, fusion with RocketMan.

A/N: RocketMan has always been a favorite of my family's. It is hilarious; if any of you haven't seen it, you should. The basic premise of the movie is that a totally weird computer programmer (who lives with his parents) goes on the first manned mission to Mars. This story has the same basic plotline, but I put my own twist on it.

I started this fic forever ago. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but it's been sitting on my computer unfinished, and I realized that I needed to post what I had or it would never get finished. So, I'm posting it now. Let me know what you guys think. :) By the way, at the moment, the rating is for language. I haven't yet figured out whether or not I'll be able to fit any X-rated moments into this fic, but if you guys have an opinion on the matter one way or another, tell me.

Oh, and for any of you who read Looking For Shooting Stars, I just want to let you know that I'm working on it and it will be out soon. XD

RocketMan Part 1

It had started when he was a kid, his fascination with space. He supposed it was a natural side effect of being a Kirk. His parents had gone to space. His brother had gone to space. Hell, his dad had been killed in space. They were all Kirks. Jim was a Kirk. The whole damn need to go to space seemed to come with the territory.

Jim still hadn't done it though. Sure he had dreamed about it enough when he was younger. He'd even gone so far as to climb into their old-fashioned washing machine and set it to spin on a timer with a blown-up picture of Earth plastered to the glass window so that he could pretend he was there, in space, saving the ship from catastrophe.

Suffice it to say, he hadn't done it again after his mother found him, realized what he was doing, and started sobbing at the thought of him going off into space to get killed like his dad had. It hadn't taken him long to realize that his mother was fucking terrified of the thought of him joining Starfleet and leaving her for space. It had tortured him for a while. He had fought with himself over it. Should he give up on his dreams, or should he ignore his mother's distress and do what he wanted, what made him happy?

The choice was made for him when Sam left. His mother had had a fucking breakdown over it, and Jim had known what he needed to do. He never wanted to see his mother like that again; the only option was for him to stay, to take care of her like she needed him to.

And so he did. He started fucking around with computers when he was fourteen, and somehow, eight years later, ended up getting a name as one of the foremost experts in the industry.

Jim wouldn't say that he was the happiest man alive, but he enjoyed what he did and overall wasn't dissatisfied with his life. That's not to say that Jim didn't still think about space sometimes—he really did think it was in his blood—but it was easy enough to suppress those urges by picturing his mother's face. He did, however, still follow any news he could find concerning Starfleet and space in general. It was one of his guilty pleasures.

Which is how he ended up coming across Commander Spock, the only Vulcan currently employed by Starfleet.

Vulcans were an oddly logical, pointy-eared race of humanoids that had been discovered living beneath the sands of the Sahara Desert a little over half a century ago. The genealogical connection between Vulcans and humans was so distant that for over twenty years after their emergence from the desert, it had been thought impossible for the two to intermix.

That is until one of the Vulcans managed to conceive a child with his human wife. A child who just so happened to grow up to be Commander Spock, the first Vulcan to ever join Starfleet.

Spock was… amazing, and Jim wasn't ashamed to admit that he had a bit of a crush on him, even before looking up a picture of him on the web. His looks certainly didn't hurt though. The guy was so fucking gorgeous, he even made the traditional Vulcan bowl cut look sexy, and that was a feat Jim had believed to be impossible. Aside from that, Spock was also brilliant as hell and had climbed up the ranks of Starfleet faster than anyone in the history of the organization. Jim had read all of his science journals, his mission reports, and anything else he could get his hands on. Fuck, just thinking about it got him hard.

His epic crush wasn't helped by his complete lack of a sex life. Jim was sure the whole thing would have blown over and become a simple case of hero worship if he was getting some. Unfortunately though, aside from suppressing his desire for space, his mother was also extremely talented at deflating hard-ons and squashing his sex life entirely.

Jim had thought about just moving out and getting a place of his own, but truthfully, it really wasn't worth it. The last time he tried it, she had gone into a depression so severe that he had only barely been able to bring her out of it when he had finally moved back in. He really, really hated seeing her like that, and while it would be nice to get laid more than twice a year, he wouldn't consider exchanging his mother's life for it, even at his most desperate.

Anyway, the lack of sex definitely didn't help his attraction to Spock, for all that he had never met and would probably never meet the guy. The only thing it did do was make him surly, so much so in fact that he was almost always acting like a complete asshole. Even if he was the best in the industry when it came to computer programming, none of his coworkers wanted to be around him because between the sexual frustration and dealing with his mother, he was a fucking nightmare to work with.

And Jim was trying to work on that. He really was. But the more he got used to being separate from his peers, to going home to finding no one waiting for him aside from his mother, the harder it was for him to give a shit that nobody liked him. Sure, he could force himself to change his asshole-ish ways, but by that point, the damage was already done so it would be a complete waste of effort on his part.

So, instead, he went about his life, taking care of his mother and doing his job. It seemed to Jim as though things would go on unchanging forever, and he wasn't sure if he should be comforted by the familiarity or upset over the fact that this was what his life would amount to.

By the time he was twenty-five, he still hadn't made a decision one way or the other. The good news was that things had taken a turn for the better in the past year. Jim had been put in charge of designing the computer system for Starfleet's new starship, Enterprise. He would never admit it to any of his colleagues or his mother (telling her that he was working on anything involving Starfleet would probably bring on another breakdown), but he was more excited about this project than he had been about anything he had ever worked on before. Just the thought that something he created would be going up into space soothed a part of the ache that had been growing since he had abandoned his dreams all those years before. Jim had sent off the finished version to Starfleet just last month, and he couldn't have been prouder of himself.

That is, until the day he'd come into his office to find several very familiar and unexpected people waiting for him.

It had been a rather shitty day already for it only being just past eight o'clock in the morning. His mother had been more… clingy than usual when he was leaving for work that morning, practically begging (without actually begging, of course) for him to stay with her. Jim knew he really should have expected it.

It was his fucking birthday again—the day his dad died—which was, in his opinion, the worst fucking day of the year.

Every year, Jim called his aunt to babysit his mother while he went out and worked himself to death before going to a bar, drinking heavily, and trying to get laid (he always failed). This system usually worked just fine, but his aunt had been late arriving that morning and Winona had decided to get out of bed early.

It had not been pleasant. His mom had almost been crying by the time he finally got out the door. The image would probably haunt him for the rest of the day.

Then, of course, he'd hit every fucking red light on his way there and been pulled over and given a fucking ticket by one of those stupid all-seeing robo-cops. He couldn't even bat his eyelashes and put on the charm with those fuckers, so there was no getting out of it.

Suffice it to say, Jim was not in a good mood by the time he stormed in (late) to work. He was muttering a stream of nearly unintelligible curses under his breath as he threw open and subsequently slammed shut the door of his office. He threw his bag to one side and slammed his hands down on his desk, letting out a huff of frustration. Fuck, he was pissed.

There was probably no chance of him getting any work done today, but hell if he wasn't going to try. He sighed. Easier said than done.

Jim was trying to purge all thoughts of his mother's tear-streaked face when he heard a throat clear behind him. He spun around, and the "What the fuck?" was already out of his mouth before he registered just who it was that was behind him.

Spock. "Shit."

What the fuck was Spock doing in his office? If Jim were the type of person to have panic attacks, he would be hyperventilating.

Jim's office was decorated in a rather… unconventional way. When he had first set it all up, it had been a bit of an inside joke on himself. Then, he ended up leaving it the way it was because: 1) he was too lazy to take everything down, and 2) he was kind of a masochist and liked torturing himself with what he couldn't have.

There were large posters of space covering the walls, but that wasn't the part that he was worried about. It was the pictures—more specifically, the pictures of Spock—that were freaking him the fuck out. They were all over the place, and there was absolutely no way in hell Spock hadn't seen them. Not that there weren't other pictures up there too. Jim had several pictures of his parents, both in and out of uniform, and one of his brother's family that he had put up after he and Sam had made peace a year or two back.

He had to admit that the pictures of Spock were a bit more numerous than the rest though and larger too. God, he was fucked.

Jim heard snickering and finally noticed that Spock wasn't alone. Great. Just fucking great.

He recognized the other two men as Admiral Nero and Lieutenant… Well, he couldn't remember the second guy's name, but it didn't really matter. What did matter was the fact that he knew that all three of the people currently standing in his office were assigned to the Enterprise's first mission. Nero was the admiral in charge of ground operations, Spock was the mission commander, and… Damn it! Who the fuck was that other guy, and why couldn't Jim remember his name?

If they were here, he was sure as hell that they were going to say that there was something wrong with the system he had designed. Why else would they be here?

Jim knew there wasn't a fucking problem with that system. He had spent the better part of a god damned year working on that operating system, and he was fucking proud of it. Jim was usually anal when it came to his programming, but he had gone beyond overboard with the Enterprise project. He had gone over each and every line of code with a fucking microscope before handing it over to be checked for glitches. He had fixed every flaw and made sure everything was perfect. There was no way he could have messed up something this important.

Jim tried to compose himself. There was no use getting angry before he really knew what they wanted. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked calmly.

Admiral Nero cleared his throat. "Hello, James. I'm Nero. This is…"

"I know who you are," Jim interrupted impatiently, not caring in the slightest just how rude he was sounding at the moment. "What I want to know is why you're here in my office."

Nero seemed taken aback for a moment but was quick to collect himself, settling his expression back into what seemed to be its default arrogant sneer. "We have been running simulations to get the Mars mission team familiar with the new operating system. The Enterprise has crashed into Mars the past ten times we ran the simulation. Some of us…" Nero glanced over at the unnamed lieutenant. "…think it may have a glitch."

Jim was pissed. "Like hell it does! I programmed it myself." He turned on the asshole that was pointing the finger at his beloved system. "Don't blame me for your mistakes, Cupcake."

Cupcake's face turned a rather unhealthy looking shade of purple, and he bared his teeth at Jim. Jim just smirked and hoped the new nickname pissed the guy off; he was stuck with it now.

"Petty squabbling is illogical," Spock interjected, cutting short Jim's staring contest with Lieutenant Cupcake. "The program persists in miscalculating our orbital entry trajectories. We are in possession of a data storage receptacle containing the pertinent information. It would be most advisable to work together to facilitate the discovery of a cause for the current predicament so that we may remedy it."

Fuck. Jim had been working hard to make himself forget that Spock was in the room so that he would be able to maintain some sense of dignity. The damned Vulcan just had to go and remind him of his presence, and by speaking no less. If Jim had thought the guy was captivating with his mouth closed, it was nothing compared to the combination of the eyes and the body and that god damned voice. He shivered. Shit, he felt helpless against it.

"Hey moron," Cupcake snapped, waving a hand in front of Jim's face. "Stop obsessing over the Commander and fix the problem."

Jim glared at him, but took the disc Spock had offered him. Turning around, Jim sank down in the chair before inserting the disc. He reached over and picked up his black, thick-framed glasses, putting them on while his computer was loading. Data from the most recent Mars simulation appeared on his monitor and Jim scanned it carefully, trying to pinpoint the problem. When he finally spotted it, he had to work very hard to keep the smirk off of his face until after he had cross-checked it against the rest of the data.

"There's your problem," Jim proclaimed cheerfully. "Cupcake has been running his equations to include gravitational effect, varying as the inverse cube of the distance." Cupcake spluttered as Jim continued, grinning, "Look, I'll show you." He started typing as he spoke. "I'll input the same calculations using what I like to call 'The Right Way' and initiate the Mars landing sequence." Jim shot a smug look at Cupcake as he did so and the Enterprise model he had used for testing purposes began rotating in a perfectly level, circular orbit. "Would you look at that!" He exclaimed in excitement that was only half-faked as he watched the model lower itself to his desk. "A perfect landing."

Suddenly he was being pushed out of the way by a muttering Cupcake. The man violently punched his own numbers into the computer, taking his frustration out on Jim's poor keyboard. He gave Jim a nasty grin as the Enterprise was lifted back up into orbit where it once again began spinning in a perfect circle.

"See," Cupcake preened, turning to face Spock and Nero. "I told you it was the computer."

The smug look didn't last long. Not five seconds after his announcement, the Enterprise began spinning wildly out of control. Nero's face contorted into something that looked incredibly close to disgust, and as Cupcake turned back to see what he was staring at, Jim's precious model Enterprise flailed uncontrollably and smashed to pieces against the side of the other man's head.

Things were relatively normal again for the next week or so. Jim hadn't had any more surprise visitors waiting to greet him when he came into work in the morning, his mother hadn't had an episode since his birthday, and on the whole, everything was going surprisingly well.

The only dark spot Jim could see on his unusually bright sunshiny mood was the fact that he didn't have a project of his own to work on at the moment. He hadn't had any major programming to do since he had completed his work on the Enterprise, and as a result, his current "supervisor"—as the man's predecessors had warned, you didn't manage Jim Kirk, you put up with him—had finally put him to work de-bugging other people's programs when it became apparent that no new projects were forthcoming. The idiot had even referred to it as a vacation when breaking the news to him in the hopes that he would actually do what he was told for once.

Jim's efforts to weasel his way into someone else's project had been futile, and so, he had settled in and resigned himself to finding the flaws in other people's work. Once he did so, he actually found it to be a bit relaxing for a while. After all of the effort he had put into his pride and joy, it had been a bit nice to not to have to think while at work.

But then, Jim got through the first hour of his so-called "vacation" and realized that he had to find something new. Contrary to popular belief, not thinking did not suit Jim at all, and as a result, he was going out of his mind from boredom.

So far, Jim hadn't had even a little bit of luck finding a new project. Instead, he unenthusiastically completed his program testing each day and then sat in his office, spinning his chair in slow circles while staring at the ceiling until it was time for him to go home for the day.

He was at the tail end of this routine on the day he got the call. Though he probably shouldn't have been, Jim was relieved an almost excited when he heard Admiral Nero's voice on the line. By that point, he would take anything to break up the monotony, even if he had to sit through Starfleet personnel belittling his program. Sure, they were probably going to try to tear new holes in his baby, but Jim knew that his defense was sound; his shields were at one hundred percent, and there was no way any of those smug bastards at Starfleet were going to get through them.

Jim grabbed his helmet, locked up his office, and walked out to his motorcycle, not bothering to tell his supposed superiors where he was going. He had all of his work done, so those assholes didn't have the right to complain.

He made a face at his helmet as he slipped it on. It wasn't that he was adverse to safety, and if he was being honest, the protection the shield provided from bugs was invaluable, but whenever he looked at that damn helmet, all he could think about was his mother. When he had originally started talking about getting a motorcycle, Winona had started crying. She said that Jim was going to get himself killed, and that obviously meant that he didn't care about her. Faced with a sobbing mother, Jim had done the only thing he could think of to placate her: he had assured her that he would never ride without wearing his helmet. It was a promise that he had not broken, not even once, but sometimes, Jim just wanted to get on his bike and ride. He wanted to feel the wind through his hair; he wanted to be free from the cage he had allowed his mother to construct around him. He just wanted to be Jim for a while without the added complications his mother brought.

Jim shook himself to clear his head of these thoughts. They were pointless, really. Jim knew no reality outside of the current clusterfuck that was his life, and at this point, he wasn't even sure what he would do with freedom if he had it.

Jim gunned his engine and roared out of the parking lot, looking forward to the blissful silencing of his thoughts that usually came when he was riding his motorcycle. It would take him ten minutes to get to Starfleet headquarters, and he planned to take advantage of it.

Unfortunately, Jim's mind refused to be quiet, and by the time he reached his destination, Jim was ready to give Nero hell. How dare they say one bad word about his operating system? He had proved, beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt, that his baby wasn't the one responsible for that god damned "glitch" they had pinned on her. Like hell was he going to sit around and let his programming skills be slandered.

When he stormed through the front doors—which was much less dramatic than it sounded considering they were automatic sliding glass doors—he found Nero standing in the lobby waiting for him and stopped short. The man was… smiling at him.

It wasn't all that reassuring. Actually, it was kind of creepy.

"James Tiberius Kirk!" Nero boomed. "Good to see you. Come this way." The admiral beckoned him toward a set of doors.

"Where are we going?" Jim asked warily. This was not at all what he had been expecting when he received that phone call, and it was putting him on edge.

"We need to test you," Nero explained without really explaining.

"What for?" Jim demanded. What the fuck could the possibly be testing him for?

"We need to see if you have what it takes for space travel. Ga… ah, Cupcake…" he corrected, winking at Jim. "…was injured to such an extent by the stunt he pulled in your office that he is unable to perform his duties. He has been pulled from the mission." Nero sighed. "Since the Enterprise is set to launch in a month, we need someone who knows the system, or we will have to postpone the mission." The man gave him a sharp look. "I really don't want to do that, James. With conditions on Mars being what they are, we won't be able to send another mission up there for at least two years if we postpone."

Jim was stunned speechless. They wanted him to go into space? He might actually have a chance to live his dream. It was so close, he could almost taste it. He, James Tiberius Kirk, could go into space. It wasn't too late. He could make his mother proud. He could…

And then reality came crashing back into place.

His mother wouldn't be proud of him. She would be devastated. She would have another nervous breakdown.

He couldn't possibly go. There was no way he could just up and leave his mother on Earth alone, especially not if she was in the condition he was sure she would be in if he left. He had no choice; he had to tell Starfleet no.

"Admiral Nero, I am honored that you even considered me," Jim said as graciously as he was able. "But, I'm going to have to decline your offer. I…" He tried to continue, to explain that there were unfortunate circumstances that prevented him from leaving the planet, or hell, even having a life of his own.

Before he could, however, Nero was turning toward him and interrupting. "Look kid, I don't give a crap about you or your hang-ups. I need to get this mission off the ground, and I don't care what I have to do to get it done. My whole career is resting on this launch, and you aren't going to screw it up for me."

"You and your career goals can go fuck yourselves, sir," Jim spat back before turning without another word and storming away.

Jim was lost.

He had obviously made a wrong turn somewhere because he was now even further into the Starfleet complex, and he had no idea how to find his way out. Shit. All he wanted to do was get the fuck out of there so that he didn't have to think about the chance he was missing out on.

He was so preoccupied with finding his way out of the stupid maze that was Starfleet headquarters that he didn't even realize that he wasn't alone until an emotionless voice spoke behind him.

"Mr. Kirk. May I ask what you are doing in my laboratory?"

Jim spun on his heel and faced Spock, his shock most likely clearly written on his face. "This is…" Jim liked to think that surprise (and not his nervousness at once again facing the object of his infatuation) was what made his voice break. He cleared his voice and tried again. "This is your lab?"

"I believe I just made that clear, Mr. Kirk. Now if you would please inform me as to why you have entered my laboratory unaccompanied. I was under the impression that Admiral Nero was going to be taking you to test your aptitude for innovation and your ability to tolerate conditions requisite to space travel."

Spock tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Jim, as though considering him. Jim had never felt more like an amoeba under a microscope. He swallowed, unable to find his voice for a moment, before opening his mouth and forcing something to come out. "I rejected the Admiral's offer to join your mission. He got pissed at me and, well, I don't put up with people giving me shit for things that aren't even my fault. So I left." He shrugged as if to say, 'What else could I do?' "I kinda got lost though and ended up here. Do you think you could tell me how to get out of here?"

Spock didn't answer for a second, and when he finally did, he completely ignored Jim's question in favor of asking one of his own. "Why have you decided not to accompany us to Mars? I have been led to believe that many humans would jump at the chance to go to another planet. Is this not the case?"

"It isn't that," Jim said quickly. "I would love to go to space someday. I just…" He hesitated. Jim usually didn't go into his family situation with anyone he didn't have to, but he didn't want Spock to think that he was afraid of space or something like that. He had his pride, after all. "My dad died in space, and my mom, well, she's never recovered. She has a nervous breakdown every time I leave the house. I would probably end up killing her if I tried to go into space."

A strange look passed through Spock's eyes—something Jim might have called understanding if it weren't a Vulcan he was talking to—and he nodded. "My parents were not pleased with my decision to join Starfleet. Though my own mother was much quicker to forgive, my father and I are still not on speaking terms. I suppose it is the same in every culture, but eventually all children must forge their own path in life."

Jim stared at the Vulcan for a moment before realizing that Spock thought he was subtly giving him advice on the matter, when in reality he had fairly blatantly told Jim that it was time for him to cut the apron strings. Jim had to forcibly make himself not laugh out loud. He was getting life advice from Mr. Spock. His life sure was fucking surreal sometimes.

When it became clear that Jim had no response to his words, Spock continued, "It is a shame you will not be able to join us. You would have been a valuable addition to our mission." He turned away from Jim and shrugged into a white lab coat. Jim almost couldn't keep his jaw from dropping and the lust from showing in his eyes. Fuck, the guy was hot. "Go through that door and take a left. Follow that hallway for 30.82 yards and turn right. Take the first hallway to the right and you will be in the lobby. Goodbye, Mr. Kirk." The Vulcan carefully pulled on a pair of hypoallergenic disposable gloves and turned away from Jim, clearly dismissing him.

Fuck, Jim thought as he followed Spock's direction. He had been trying to ignore the thought that he was not only missing out on a chance at his dream but also missing out on a chance with Spock. Running into the Vulcan in his lab had brought the thought to center-focus in his mind. Though it was rather farfetched, Jim really couldn't shake the feeling that if he had stayed, if he had accepted their offer, something good would have happened. He couldn't explain it but he knew that if he went to Mars, his royally fucked up life—which had never seemed to actually belong to him—would change for the better.

Jim kept walking away from where he had left Spock. Had he stopped or let himself show even the slightest hint of hesitation, Jim would have turned around. He would have gone back to Spock and begged—fucking begged, god damn it—for another chance. He couldn't let himself be that weak; he couldn't let himself give in. His mother was the only one who had ever come even close to loving him. He couldn't let her kill herself for selfish reasons.

And Jim would have made his escape had he been watching where he was going. Since he wasn't paying attention though, he ended up walking straight into a Starfleet officer.

"Fuck!" Jim exclaimed as he hit the floor. "Shit, I'm sorry," he hastily muttered. He wasn't a complete asshole; he was capable of apologizing when something was clearly his fault.

As they both picked themselves up, Jim finally got a good look at the man. Holy Shit. "Chris?!"

The man looked at him for a moment, assessing. "Do I…" His eyes widened. "Jimmy? Jimmy Kirk?"

Jim rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. "Yeah, I go by Jim now."

He wasn't sure how to greet this man he hadn't seen in eighteen years. Christopher Pike had been his dad's best friend and had done as well as he could by them after George had died. Jim had always been under the impression that he felt some measure of survivor's guilt since he had also been on the mission that had ended with George Kirk's death. Even though he had never put any of the blame on Chris, Jim knew that his mother had, which was the reason he stopped coming around after Jim was seven. They had had a fight—most of which consisted of Winona being irrational and Chris trying to calm her down—after which Winona had told Chris that he was not welcome in her house and if he tried to contact them there would be consequences. Jim hadn't seen him since.

"I'm glad to see you turned out all right. I was a bit worried that…" He seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say and instead waved a hand dismissively. "You know what? Never mind. What did you end up doing with your life?"

"I'm a computer programmer." Jim felt his shoulders lift with pride as he continued, "I actually designed the operating system for the Enterprise."

Chris's eyes widened again. "Are you the one they asked to replace that injured Lieutenant on the Mars mission?"

All of the pride Jim had been feeling left him when he heard the man's words. "I'm the one they asked, but I told them 'no'."

"Why, Jim?" Chris asked incredulously.

"I can't leave Mom here by herself."

Chris just stared at him for a moment before closing his eyes. "Damn it, I was afraid something like this would happen. Winona was never quite right after George died. The way she clung to you boys just wasn't normal. Does she do this to your brother too?"

"Sam ran away and joined the Lunar colony when I was twelve. It's just me and her now," Jim informed him, somewhat grudgingly. Why the fuck did Chris care anyway? He was the one who had abandoned them. Jim knew that Winona had been the one to cut their ties with him, but Chris hadn't even tried after that. Not once.

Chris sighed. "Looks like it's about time I paid Winona a visit. Do you guys still live in the same house?"

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of RocketMan. Please review to let me know what you think. XD