Disclaimer: All I own is an '82 Toyota Celica with differential problems, trust me, I've got nothing you want. Any factual/canon/scientific errors are all mine, I accept the blame entirely.
Feel.
He knew every definition of the word.
To touch; examine by handling.
Infants learned through tactile exploration. Would it not be logical to assume that mature beings could learn using this method as well? Idly he ran a pale finger down the smooth skin in front of him and was rewarded with a strangled noise that could be categorized somewhere between a gasp and a yelp. Interesting.
To be aware of through physical sensation.
He was quite sure than when this definition had been written that the discovery of Vulcans and touch telepathy were a long way off, but he couldn't help but consider this to be the most accurate definition of the term feel. It certainly applied to him most accurately. Through the pad of his finger he could feel the turmoil of another mind. A beautiful mind that swirled with bright emotions and a positively addicting thought process. He was beginning to wonder why he had never touched someone like this before.
To experience (an emotion or condition); to be affected by
This is the one that gave him the most difficulty. Vulcans were not supposed to be affected by anything, much less something as base as emotion. Their superior cognitive abilities placed them well above such things. To use the terran phrase: 'mind over matter.' But being here now, feeling the emotions that flowed through the skin of another and into his very soul, he was having a hard time distancing himself. His mind did not seem to be strong enough to pull his hand away.
"Spock?"
He felt his whole body jerk in response to his name and dropped his hand in shame. He took a step back, seeking to put distance between the two of them. However, distracted by his musings, he miscalculated the location of the chair behind him and found himself seated on the floor instead.
Mirthful blue eyes stared down at him, "Are you alright there Spock?"
"My apologies Captain, it seems to be affecting me."
Jim smirked and lobbed the empty chocolate bar wrapper in the general direction of the incinerator shoot. His grin took a more feral tone as he crouched down in front of the Vulcan. "Well how utterly fascinating."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Eh, not as quite as short as I had originally intended, I must confess. I was just going for a drabble, but it morphed into a cliché ramble that my muse wouldn't let me kill. So I just had to share. If another cliché beetle bites me I might follow this up with another one-shot, but as of right now I'm going to be a meanie and let your imaginations run wild with the implications of the situation I have left the boys in.
Considering that this will be the first of my fics to see the pale light of day in a long time, you'd think I'd go with a better representation. :shrug: Perhaps I assume too much with that statement. Oh well. Rest assured- if you found it lacking or sub-par- this humble authoress shares your misgivings and shall accept any criticism with all humility.
My English teacher would kill me for messing up the continuity of the POV at the end there. :winces: I'm too lazy to try and fix it.