A/N: First kiss drabble. Spoilers for Into Darkness. Slash, but not really…..? Perhaps just super escalated bromance? I DON'T KNOW JUST READ IT. My only excuse is that a plot bunny attacked my kneecaps. I'll get back to real work on Nelaya now, ahaaa.
Jim's hand was trembling when it left Spock's shoulder, and he suspected that the human was even more unstable than he appeared. He listened to Jim's stumbling footsteps as he left, and gazed at the still face of Christopher Pike. He had respected the man as his captain and admiral and felt a certain degree of grief at his death, but he knew that, to Jim, Pike had been that and so much more.
A curious wrenching sensation caught him off guard, and he paused to take stock of himself. Spock knew what sorrow was. He had experienced it many times over on the day his planet was destroyed, he was well familiar with the deep ache it created in his chest, hollowing out his ribs with pain. This was the first time, however, that he felt sorrow for someone else.
As medics began to swarm, Spock pushed himself to his feet and went in search of his captain. The smell of burning flesh and smoke was heavy in the air, ashes and embers wafting about his boots. Broken glass crunched underfoot, and he was painfully reminded of the fragility of human life. Pike's death still lingered like phantom fingerprints upon his mind, the final frightened whispers echoing insistently behind his eyes. He wondered if he would ever be able to forget the sudden darkness that had snuffed out those flickering thoughts.
He found Jim alone, not far from the ravaged conference room, facing a startlingly pristine wall and leaning against it with his forehead braced on his forearm. As Spock approached, he saw Jim wave aside a medic without moving, his harsh tones carrying well over the tumult.
"I said I don't need it!"
"Sir, I must insist-" the medic pressed on doggedly.
"Back off-"
"Captain." Spock placed a hand placatingly on Jim's shoulder to counter his quietly admonishing tone. The man stiffened beneath him, his hand balling into a fist against the wall, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"You are dismissed," Spock said firmly to the medic.
"But-"
"I shall ensure that Captain Kirk is cared for." He hoped. Jim could be obstinate at the best of times, and now...Spock was not certain if he could handle a highly distressed Jim.
The medic gave up and bustled off to help a more demanding individual, and Spock returned to the task at hand. He realized he was still touching Jim's shoulder and lowered his hand self-consciously. Jim was still facing the wall, his silhouette too still and tense to bode well.
"Captain," Spock said quietly.
"Not captain," Jim said hollowly, the words automatic and distracted.
Spock waited a moment before gently saying, "You are the captain now, Jim."
"No." The word ground out roughly, filled with broken windows and gunfire.
"Jim-"
"No, damn it!" Jim whirled around, and Spock saw that his eyes were reddened with more than smoke. He blinked, taken aback by the vehemence of Jim's glare, and took a step back in appeasement. "I said no," Jim repeated, his voice shaking in anger.
"I did not mean to distress you."
Jim snorted derisively. "Whatever. Just." He swiped at his eyes furiously and shook his head. "Just leave me alone."
Spock hesitated. "I...do not believe you should be alone right now."
"Spock-"
"I will not leave you alone," Spock said, more firmly this time. He recognized Jim's expression now, the anguish suppressed behind a stony face, how he held himself so tightly that nothing could escape, because if it did….he would break.
It was how he must have looked then, when Vulcan had folded in on itself and perished. It had been so long ago, but it still hurt every day, every moment he breathed and knew its loss. Nyota had comforted him then, when no one else could, and now Jim had no one.
He reached out before he could rationalize away the urge and placed both hands on Jim's shoulders, stepping in close. Jim stiffened, his hands coming up automatically to grip Spock's arms. "What are you doing?" Jim said tersely, and Spock felt a prickle of anxiety.
How had Nyota done this? Spock could remember the moment clearly, yet this didn't feel anything remotely similar to the previous situation. He despaired for a second at his utter inability to comfort and forced himself to gaze calmly at Jim. "It is all right," he said quietly, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Jim's. It was the most intimate action he had ever initiated, but rather than discomfort, he felt...right.
Jim gave a hoarse laugh utterly devoid of humor, but did not, inexplicably, pull away. Instead, he seemed to lean forward into the touch, the tension in his shoulders melting away slightly. "Nothing's all right, Spock."
"That is not what I meant." Spock paused, searching for the right words. Jim's forehead was hot beneath his, distracting him from his thought process. "You do not need to...pretend, Jim. I understand."
"You understand," Jim repeated incredulously. "You."
"Me," Spock responded, his stomach giving that odd wrench again. "I do understand, Jim."
Jim fell silent, perhaps just now realizing what Spock meant, and his hands tightened on Spock's upper arms, as much to restrain him as it was to keep him close. "He's gone, Spock," Jim finally whispered, and it was then that his voice broke. "He's gone."
Spock's hands moved instinctively to grip the sides of Jim's face, his fingertips mere centimeters away from his psi-points. It would be so easy to meld with Jim, to soothe and calm and smooth away jagged spikes of distress. It would be so simple...and yet Spock hesitated, sensing that Jim needed something more. A form of release, perhaps. Burying these wounds would only encourage them to fester, eating away at Jim's mind until they overtook him. Spock could not allow that to happen.
He pulled Jim closer instead, closing his eyes when Jim's hands shakily moved to cover his. They stood like that for some time, Spock listening to the sounds of Jim's ragged breaths.
He heard an odd choking sound and opened his eyes in concern to see Jim's own eyes squeezed shut, face contorted in an effort to hold in his sobs. Spock stood helplessly for a second, instinct battling with severe self-doubt, before Jim's shoulders jerked in an involuntary spasm.
Spock abandoned all logic ordering him to immediately abort the effort and tilted his head down, pressing his lips against Jim's in a brief, light touch. Jim stilled, shock overcoming his grief momentarily, and Spock inwardly grimaced. Perhaps he should not have done that. He recalled the action being….comforting at the time when he had received it, although it was probable that it did not mean the same thing to Jim…..
He pulled away reluctantly and studied Jim warily for any signs of negative response. His eyes were open now, fixing Spock with a dumbfounded stare, a sheen of unshed tears glimmering over the blue irises.
Then Jim surged forward, hands tugging at Spock desperately, and closed the gap between them once more. It was not so much a kiss as it was a plea, and Spock answered, allowing Jim to take what he needed and more. He grunted with discomfort once when Jim's teeth scraped too roughly against his lip, and he tasted the coppery edge of his own blood.
He tasted something else as well, something salty trickling past the corner of his mouth. Only when Jim's arms moved to encircle Spock's chest in an uncertain embrace did he finally realize that Jim was crying. He withdrew again, sliding his own hands around Jim's shoulders to hesitantly return the unfamiliar gesture, and felt his heart quiver when Jim's head dropped down to his shoulder, muffling his sobs against Spock's shirt.
After a few minutes, Spock began rubbing small circles against Jim's back, recalling dimly his mother doing something similar when he had been very young. Jim seemed to take it well, relaxing into the touch, and Spock continued with growing confidence.
"Sorry," he heard Jim gasp, and he was unsure as to whether he should respond. "I'm so sorry….God…."
A medic poked his head curiously around the corner at the end of the corridor, eyes widening at the sight of the two officers embracing. Spock merely stared back over Jim's shoulder, challenging the man to make a statement, and after a moment, the medic gave a sympathetic nod and disappeared.
Spock turned his attention back to Jim, all too aware of how fragile the man suddenly seemed. From the moment he had first laid eyes on a certain rebellious cadet full of grand ideals and bravado, he had thought Jim Kirk to be an utter incomprehension, an anomaly among his acquaintances. Here was a man larger than life, capable of more than anyone knew, and now he was breaking in front of Spock.
"What do you need?" Spock murmured, with the irrational notion that, whatever it was, Spock would give it to him.
Jim did not answer at first, and Spock wondered if he had heard, and then he heard the reply, quiet and hesitant against his shoulder. "Stay with me."
It was more than a request to remain in the corridor, Spock knew. It was even more than asking him to remain as Jim's first officer. It was asking for….more, a friendship, a relationship that would perhaps last for a lifetime, and Spock would give it to Jim, if it was what he desired.
He nodded and tightened his embrace, aware that he was solely holding Jim together, and something in him rose at the prospect.
It did not matter that Jim was breaking, Spock decided, it did not matter if he was already broken.
Because Spock would always be there to put him back together.
A/N: This was intended to be a oneshot, but I don't know if I'll revisit it later down the road….? Maybe do more in between scenes for Into Darkness…? Eh?