Written for the S_U Holiday Fic Exchange 2011 per Lurkch's request. It is a Holiday exchange fic, but there is no holiday herein. There is, however, S/U. And some McCoy, and some Kirk. Author assertions: I make no money from this; it's for love alone; no copyright infringement is intended, and to the best of my conscious knowledge this is all my own creation, except for the Star Trek universe and characters, which, dammitall, belong to other people, but I am ever so grateful to those people for inventing these people.
Hot Tubs & Friends & Lovers
by Spock Loves Cats
The first time Lieutenant Commander Spock sees Cadet Uhura outside of his classroom, she is wearing only a white Academy logo'd swimsuit, stepping down into a hot tub. Her hair is wound up high on her head and looks wet; she has quite probably finished her usual exercise of running (he has observed her with closely guarded pleasure many times), gotten the requisite shower, and is now easing her muscles with the hot water.
Before approaching her, he examines her lovely slender figure, the beads of water on her golden brown skin, her uptilted dark eyes and her wide smile … but her smile is not aimed at him.
Uhura is smiling at a tall brown-haired man already occupying the water, whose back is to Spock, saying, "Hi, Len!" He rumbles something back about "Jim kicked my ass at Parrises Squares" and they begin talking about this person, and "his latest prank." Spock turns away, not wanting to interpose himself into such "small talk," and somewhat taken aback by her apparent intimacy with this "Len."
~/\~
She sees him out of the corner of her eye, and after greeting McCoy, is about to address LCDR Spock when Len starts talking about Jim Kirk. Mr. Spock has already turned away, to her regret. He has just come from working out himself, apparently, clad in black flex pants and a black long-sleeved flex t-shirt, both of which display his slender musculature to great advantage, but of course he'd be unaware of that.
She watches him walk away, her insides tightening with longing, but knows she can never say a thing to him except in respectful address or at some point in class, where she has made a habit of challenging him. It seems to amuse him; his eyebrow rises before he asks her for proof of her assertions, and he nods solemnly, but there usually seems to be a sort of … spark in his eyes as they dance intellectually together. She would love to know him better, but that constitutes fraternization, she is sure; she has checked the Academy Protocol manual at least five times under "Cadet/Instructor Interactions" for any exceptions to the rules. As if Mr. Spock would deign to break them in any way.
She focuses on McCoy again. He is declaring himself allergic to Parrises Squares. He looks weary; he often does, working the long shifts he does at the Emergency Room in the Academy's medical complex, between his intensive studies. He's already Lieutenant McCoy, because he arrived as an M.D., and has only two years before he receives the rank of LCDR and certification as a doctor of interspecies medicine, which latter involves an awful lot of specialized knowledge and training - in between all the Starfleet protocols and emergency procedures he also has to know.
They amuse themselves by discussing Jim Kirk, who never ceases to amaze Uhura with his escapades. He had the energy to "kick ass" at Parrises Squares today, even though he'd been up almost all night "papering the halls," starting outside First/Class Cadet Finnegan's quarters. What he did first, McCoy explains, was print a lot of old-style toilet paper with the words "Jim Kirk SUCKS" in indelible ink, then wet it with a spray gun as he laid it, then tromped it for full carpet adhesion, through the "Goldshirt" barracks hallways, all the way to his own room, from Finnegan's.
Finnegan was called before Admin this morning, and is still laboring to remove the now dried and linty substance from the carpet, with no instrument but his own hands and fingers. McCoy, on his way to play Parrises Squares, saw Finnegan crouched over the carpet, peeling up TP, beet-faced and swearing. Playing at Senior Officer, Len asked the cadet if he had some sort of problem. Finnegan had looked up balefully and said, "Nah, sir, but I'll get Jimmy boy if it's the last thing I do!"
McCoy frowned and said, "What does … Jimmy Boye have to do with this?"
"With all due respect, sir, ye know dam – quite well who he is, and he has played a prank on me."
"Didn't you play one on him a few days ago?"
Finnegan sighed then, and said, "Yes indeed, but it was no more than he deserved, the fu – feckin' culchie."
Now McCoy asks Uhura, "What the hell's a 'culchie'?"
Uhura mentally sorts through Irish colloquialisms and says, "Ha! It's a country boy! Actually, someone not city-bred, but it certainly applies to our Iowa farm boy, doesn't it!"
McCoy starts laughing, and so does she. "I suppose they're going to keep on prankin' each other until Finnegan graduates."
"Maybe even after, if Finnegan does any post-graduate courses here. Do you remember the time he …" she begins, and as they share stories and laughter, Uhura forgets about the expression on Mr. Spock's face. Actually, in his eyes.
~ /\ ~ ~ /\ ~
It is over a year since the Enterprise left Earth with her newly minted captain and harshly tested young crew. They have had some "close calls," as Kirk terms them, or "near-death experiences," as McCoy says, ones he does not particularly want to repeat.
It is after such trials, and many hours of healing the injured, that McCoy attempts relaxation through exercise, sometimes vigorous, like running on the track (located just inboard of the outer ring of observation "deck"), or calming, like doing yoga; yes, yoga. At other times he goes to the gym and, donning padded gloves, hits the speed bag with quick, well-timed punches to let off steam.
These are three forms of physical exercise in which Uhura also participates, occasionally with McCoy.
And Spock, who's now widely acknowledged to be Uhura's, er, fiancé, does suus mahna and is quite skillful at yoga. Sometimes Spock and Uhura practice one or the other of these together.
So it is perhaps for this reason that Spock and Uhura are both up to their shoulders in the foaming, steaming, roiling hot tub (Uhura, in fact, is submerged to her neck) when McCoy arrives, after speed punching for half an hour and fresh from the quick shower everyone takes before entering the bubbling, soothing water.
"Mind if I join you?" McCoy asks perfunctorily, tossing his towel onto a nearby chair.
Uhura has an odd glint in her eyes as she says, "Not at all, Len. Come on in."
Spock looks at her quickly, then subsides into his usual cool demeanor.
"Jim may be along, too," McCoy tells them. "I saw him using the heavy bag in the gym."
"Mmmm, nothing like some time in the hot tub after a workout," Uhura purrs, and looks at Spock. "Isn't that right, Commander?"
"Indubitably, Lieutenant."
"Oh, can it, Spock. It's me here," McCoy snaps. "I know you two are … on a first-name basis."
"Indeed, we are," says Uhura, amusement making her eyes sparkle.
McCoy's starting to wonder what the hell is up; Uhura looks like the cat who ate the canary. He'd feel kinda nervous about that sort of look if it was anybody but her and Spock in here with him, if, for example, it was Jim.
Kirk arrives, leaving his towel on the chair. He's wearing long, loose trunks, but even these reveal the prominent bulge that so many girls and gays on board have remarked on in whispers to each other. McCoy says "Hey," relieved that Jim doesn't wear those tight little swim briefs, or "budgie smugglers", as LT Kyle calls them.
"Hey, yourself," Jim returns and descends into the hot tub, making "ahhh" noises, and sits next to McCoy, opposite the handsomest couple on the ship.
"Captain," says Spock, nodding.
"Commander … Lieutenant," Jim nods at both of them, and smirks. "Come on, Spock, we're all in here relaxing. Just call me Jim. Criminey."
Uhura's mouth curves up at the corners. McCoy is reminded of the elegant little cat his Joanna dotes on. Nyota's smile is very similar to the one Shenanigans wears after, for instance, she laps milk out of Len's glass. And her uptilted, half-closed eyes remind him of the Oriental cat too. He misses that little brat cat.
"Spock, have you seen new stats on Cygnus II? I think we'll need to return, based on what I saw, within a ship's day."
"I checked the statistics at 2053, Ca – … Jim. The planet's orbit has stabilized. We will need to return in sixteen hours to ensure that it remains consistent. I have left orders with the Officer of the Deck, and Navigation."
"Okay, good. Yesterday was pretty nerve-wracking for the Cygnians."
"Us, too," mutters McCoy. Every gravitational shift of the planet had caused some turbulent movements for the Enterprise, occasionally disrupting the ship's gravitational fields, and a flood of folks with hard bumps and deep bruises and a few with concussions reported to Sickbay.
"No kidding, Bones," said Jim, and their eyes met with a mutual glad that's over look.
Fortunately Cygnus II had advanced, quake-proof transportation systems and medical facilities, or the Enterprise would have been helping with their emergencies as well. A highly intelligent, fragile people, Cygnians built excellent safeguards into every system they used daily.
Young Chekov was stricken, quite literally, when one jolt occurred and he hit the deck. Sulu found him laid out by the entry to the Bridge turbolift, and helped him down to Medical.
Kirk nods at McCoy. "In fact, I think we've earned a drink or two."
"Sounds good. Once I'm all done here soaking my old tired ass," McCoy sighs. "Christ, what a day it was. It ran into this morning for me and my teams. I got about two hours of sleep in between patients. Think I'm finally coming down from all the adrenaline."
"How many people did you treat, Len?" Uhura asks.
"Seems like a couple hundred. I'd have to check my records. I didn't keep count in my head, I was too damn busy." He plasters a frown on his face for her, knowing it'll make her grin. He plays the curmudgeon for her and Christine when he's in a good mood. When he's in a bad mood, he is a curmudgeon.
"It's a good thing you could be there for them. I'm glad you didn't get knocked about."
"None of us did," says Kirk. "Lucky us."
"Except for poor Chekov," McCoy says. "He was out like a light, Sulu said. When he came to in Sickbay, he was speakin' Russian. He seemed to think Chapel was his mother."
"How is he now?" asks Uhura.
"Oh, fine. I made sure there was no brain bruising, dermaplased his lacerations, monitored him for a few hours, and now he's in his quarters on bed rest, with monitoring. Tomorrow he'll be right as rain."
"A strange expression for you to use, Doctor, as you seem to object to rain."
"Oh come on, Spock; I'm from Georgia. We get the occasional downpour. But we almost drowned in rain on Kenak Five, are you tellin' me it was good for you?"
"I did not find it as objectionable as you."
McCoy narrows his eyes. Is Spock saying he is objectionable, or is he saying '…as you did'? Screw it, life's too short to try outguessing Spock. I don't care what people say, Vulcans have a sense of humor, and if he's tryin' to get my goat, it's best I don't respond.
Seeing Len's expression, Kirk grins. "Can't you two just get along?"
"I didn't say diddly," protests McCoy.
"Indeed, you did not," Spock says.
"'Sides, you'd ask me what 'diddly' means. If I said it."
Uhura laughs.
"… Well, I'm not explainin' it."
"The context makes it clear, Doctor." Spock looks at Uhura. "Besides, an expert in communications sits here by me; I would not need to inquire of you."
"All right, people," says Jim, stretching his arms over his head after ten minutes of silent and peaceful coexistence. "I've had about as much fun as I can stand. Think I'm gonna go plow through some paperwork now." He looks at McCoy. "Give me a holler when you're ready for that drink."
"Or three," McCoy says.
Nodding, Kirk leaves, splashily, drapes his towel over his shoulders, and hits the sonic dryer.
McCoy remains.
Spock and Uhura remain.
The water bubbles and the foam hisses as it forms and breaks and re-forms, and the three people still remain.
After a while, Uhura says, "Len, aren't you going to meet the captain for drinks?"
"Naww, I'm fine here," says McCoy. "Jim probably needs an hour or two to get through his admin work." Len is trying very hard not to grin. He settles for an innocuous social smile. He has a sneakin' sneakin' in the back of his mind, and he is waiting to see if it's true.
… and waiting.
Uhura begins glancing at Spock periodically. Spock appears quite comfortable, but she lifts her hand out of the water, shows McCoy, and says, "I'm getting pruney."
McCoy waves his hand outside the tub. "Don't let me stop ya. I'm feeling nice and cozy in here."
Her hand moves into the water to touch Spock's ... arm? Hand?
Who knows? Len grins inwardly.
Ahh. Maybe not his arm or hand, because Spock is frowning. Almost unnoticeably, but McCoy can see a tiny change in his expression.
Shame on me, but I'm really enjoying myself, Len thinks, continuing to watch Spock's face (no change) and Uhura's expression (deadpan).
And after a long time passes, it happens.
"Commander Spock to the Bridge. Commander Spock, to the Bridge, please."
The First Officer stands up, magnificent, lean … and naked as a jaybird. McCoy maintains a neutral expression. As a doctor, of course, McCoy's seen all the electronic images, and treated Spock, but he hasn't seen him so relaxed … or whatever. But he's pleased to see the Vulcan is, in certain respects, not so much larger than Human males, contrary to the Enterprise rumor mill.
Calmly, Spock leaves the hot tub, pulling a towel around his very fit ass, and punches a button on the wall. "I'm on my way," he tells the Officer of the Deck. He pauses a moment to say, "Doctor, may I suggest you depart? You may be needed in Sickbay." He moves from the hot tub area to the sonic dryer, quickly dons his uniform, and leaves.
"Yeah, I may be needed," McCoy murmurs after him, not having heard a page for himself. "In a little bit." He grins at Uhura. "So … what were you two up to?"
She has the prettiest skin. Her caramel complexion, already warmed quite pink from the hot water, is now deeply reddened, from her neck up to her hairline. She's blushing hard. Meeting McCoy's friendly, funning gaze, Uhura rolls her eyes, a rueful expression on her mouth. "The hot tub's usually unoccupied at this time of night."
"Uh-huh. So you've gotten up to these high jinks before? With Spock?" McCoy, ever the gentleman, climbs out of the hot tub, gets his towel, and offers it to her. She shakes her head, with a slow smile.
"Thanks; I have my own, right … here." She reaches an arm behind her, feels around a little bit, holds the towel at half-width in her upraised hands and in a very delicate operation, rises out of the water while unfolding the towel to hide herself from view.
"Oh, as if I've never seen you," McCoy laughs. "Remember, I'm your doctor."
"But you've never seen me all wet like this. Not without a swimsuit. And Spock would not …"
"… Like it?"
She wraps the towel around herself. "Approve, of you seeing me here. In the nude."
"But what could you do?" McCoy grins. "You poor little gal, he just up and left, and there you were."
"Yes, here I am, with my other best friend." She looks up at him, her eyes warming.
"And thank goodness I'm a gentleman."
"Oh yes." She smiles. "You, too, are a gentleman."
~ /\ ~
It is 2237 hours and Uhura is preparing for bed when Spock returns from answering the call to examine anamolous readings from Cygnus II. The duty science officer felt a bit out of her depth and requested Spock's assessment. She is a LTJG with little spacefaring experience, so Spock is gratified she chose to consult him. Of course, while on the bridge, Spock has ensured that all systems and duty stations are running to his very high expectations before departing.
"My k'diwa," he greets Nyota, extending his fingers in the ozh'esta. She joins fingers with his, and their delicate link comes alive.
"I'm sorry about the hot tub thing," she says, eyes on his, a playful expression on her face.
"It was quite … unexpected, with others present."
"Well, I was just stroking your thigh, at the end."
"And I was maintaining control, because of our witness."
"Admirably, m'penzi. In fact, I think you surprised Len when you stood up to leave. He may have been a little … envious."
"Of us?"
"Of you, silly. You're such a lovely man." She strokes his face. And her other hand strokes his hip, proximate to …
"I no longer need to maintain control, k'diwa."
"That's what I hoped."
He unties the sash at her waist, slides her robe off and lays it over the dressing table chair. Kissing her face, he lets his hands wander to smooth her soft skin. The sensation, electrifying to his sensitive fingertips, brings him much pleasure and awakens his link with Nyota.
She cups his jawline and kisses his mouth, quite thoroughly and enjoyably, and moves her hands to the hem of his shirt, sliding it up and pulling it over his head. He quickly removes it from his arms and takes off his black t-shirt.
"Mmm," she says, and slips her hands down his sides, up his torso and to his shoulders, as he holds her close to him, kissing the top of her head, down to her ear, where he whispers and then caresses with his lips.
"Sar-tak, vaksur t'nash-veh." Bed, beauty mine.
"There are still some clothes to be dealt with." She looks serious, but her mouth is curved up.
He quickly removes his boots, putting them by the chair, and leaves the trousers to her; the way she takes them down is most … most …
Bending, she follows the waist of his pants with her mouth and tongue as she slides them down his legs. And once he raises each foot in turn and she neatly drapes the black trousers over the back of the chair (he watches her graceful movements and the shape of her dancer's figure), she returns to him, hands extended to palm his chest and stomach, tickling his hairs, and she lips and tongues his nipples, one hand caressing his iliac crest, the other slipping lower to hold and caress his lok, and his consciousness ripples like a yartra in a breeze.
He has been with other women, at school on Vulcan, and at the Academy, but Nyota is the only one who has ever taken him out of himself, delighted him, helped him achieve ecstacy. He often wondered about the essence of the term "ecstacy" before he met her; he wonders no longer.
Her warm arms embrace him, his heat enwraps her; they climb into bed and he lies on his back for her. She adores his body and loves to look at him. It is most pleasurable to be so appreciated, and to watch her face as she sees his reactions to her strokes and kisses. Only for her does he show his feelings. She kisses his face, his eyelids, his eartips; he groans with pleasure, feeling the surface of her skin passing over his, her pebbled nipples touching his and descending his torso. Her wet warm mouth surrounds his lok, moving up and down gently and tonguing him. She turns, moving her loins above his face, and continues to suck him as he pleasures her with his mouth and fingers, until she cries with her first little climax. He sighs deeply as she turns again to mount him and when he penetrates her, she gives a throaty moan.
There is nothing which compares with this feeling, except certain mind-touches, and the physicality overwhelms his senses as they move their bodies together, growing damper, and wetter, and hotter and faster until they come, minds circling together, bodies open-mouthed, sucking in air, expelling it in long, happy groans, looking into each other's eyes. Hers are glimmering with joy.
Some time later, as they lie, damp and warm together, Nyota uncradles her head from his shoulder and kisses his mouth, and says regretfully, "So. No more hot tub for us, huh?"
"I will find a way, k'diwa."
"Hmm … I'm intrigued, mpenzi."
"We Vulcans are masters of secrets, strategy and stealth." Spock's dark eyes, sparkling, meet hers.
"Ahh," she smiles. "Then I look forward to our next assignation, my darling."
They kiss, sweetly and long, and, gently nestled, fall asleep.
~ /\ ~ ~ /\ ~ ~/\~
K'diwa – shortened form ofk'hat'n'dlawa, "beloved"
Mpenzi – ki-Swahili, "darling"
Ozh'esta – the two-fingered Vulcan "kiss"
Sar-tak – "bed"
T'nash-veh – "my, mine"
Vaksur – "beauty"
Yartra – "field of grass"
A sneakin' sneakin' – American colloquial; an intuition or suspicion