soppy headcanons about reboot kirk owning a stray mutt in secret
he doesn’t know what to name her. he calls her girl, tells her she’s good. he tells her she’s good all the time.
he doesn’t want her to lick the blood off his knuckles but she does anyway, and gently. maybe dogs, unlike people, can smell the hurt on a person.
at night, they go out walking together, a different feeling from being on a motorcycle. the wind ruffles your hair in a different way, touches your cheek in a different way.
she curls up on his chest, a warm heaviness, and keeps him pinned to sleep.
'see, girl, i'd name you,' he tells her one night, 'i really would, but i'm betting somebody else already did.'
fathers name you. mothers name you. and jim kirk isn’t sure what friends do for each other yet, though god knows, he’d like to try.