Momentum
Somewhere along the lines of life he met a stranger, which was totally unexpected since he'd met Spock before and Spock certainly knew him—a familiar pain shot up his neck and into his head. It was one Tuesday in the middle of the night for Jim and he had slipped on a soap. There he was, lying on the bathroom floor after a crash, staring at the ceiling and wondering if his life had turned into a bad comedy. Spock opened the door.
"Captain," the Vulcan said, clad in his night robe. He looked alarmed at first, then puzzled. In truth his expression didn't alter at all, but Jim knew it. He could read Spock. "Why are you—"
"I slipped."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he said and Jim laughed. "Do you require assistance in getting up?"
Spock offered him his hand even though he said nothing. For a second—or twelve—more he let his mind go blank and laid still before reaching up. Spock's hand was cool, like he expected, smooth and wonderful and this was definitely not the right direction for his thoughts, no matter that he didn't have the slightest idea where they had come from or where they were supposed to be going.
Weren't Vulcans touch-telepaths or something? His head sort of buzzed, and it might've been the whole hitting it deal, but when he felt the buzz in his heart too, it made him wonder. It was nice. He was sure Spock looked a bit flushed, but neither of them felt like letting even after Jim was up and standing.
Then it dawned on him and all hell broke loose.
Well, it didn't really, but that was how it felt like in head; he was diving through the universe in a flash of green and blue and gold and red, and everything was twinkling and swirling around him and he swore he could hear a cavalry choir. What were they doing in his head—or was it Spock's?
And after that he was standing in their shared bathroom once more, gasping for air.
"Oh wow," Jim breathed, because honestly, what else was he supposed to say. The Vulcan looked almost embarrassed, not that Vulcan did that, but then again Spock never was too good at being a Vulcan in his opinion. And not that he could ever tell him that. He cast his eyes down, staring at the space between them—27 centimeters and a year. Much too short of a distance between friends, much too long between lovers, and they were caught somewhere in the middle.
"Exactly," Spock said his voice coming from somewhere far away, from another universe and another life entirely. It sounded weird in his ears, but there was no helping it. The man seemed to cough. "What do you propose we do?"
Jim Kirk had two options:
He could step back, taking back along with him all the words left unsaid and the feelings left unanswered. He could take away all the weirdness and difficulty and make things easy again—easy like solving a billion piece puzzle.
He could take the step forward, to the unknown.
Exactly that, the unknown… It was simple really; exploring the unknown was what he did every day.
Jim swallowed. "I don't know," he muttered, trusting Spock's ears to catch it. "I really don't know."
Then he took the leap.
End
Once again, I like to write stories with more in them than words. Analysis? Humor me.
