Curiosity killed the cat
It starts with an accident, his hand brushes against Spock's as he leans in to point something on the science officer's monitor. The touch is brief but it jolts a shock of swirling emotions up his arm and into his mind. His breath gets caught up in his throat. Spock merely draws his hand away very carefully and hides any indication that it affected him in any way. He says sorry and Spock nods, but other than they don't talk about it and he brushes it off his mind because really, it wasn't intended and there's nothing that can be done about it.
Except that he can't forget.
He lies awake that night (well, technically it's never night in space, but night for his inner clock) and stares at his hand. It baffles him that a small touch can transmit such powerful feelings. He feels like he understands Vulcans' need for secrecy when a tiny little slip of fingers could completely blow their cover of being in control of their emotions. The whole being devoid of illogical emotion business must be the Vulcan national lie, even with them always claiming to always speak the truth. Well, he's already proved that one wrong by his old, weird as hell, friend of sorts.
Because really… Can you call a man (who is the counterpart of your first officer) your friend only because he was your best buddy in another universe? Okay, yeah, there was that whole mind-meld and learning about old-Spock's past and blah, but that was an experience he would rather not repeat. The point is that Vulcans are odd. Or at least, Spocks are.
He is almost certain that it wasn't the point he was trying to reach, but his sleep-deprived mind usually comes to the most curious conclusions, so he's willing to let it pass. What his mind isn't going to let pass, though, is the idea that touching a Vulcan's hands is seven kinds of crazy and a little awesome. Or maybe it's just Spock, because that's who he dreams about when he falls asleep with his musings. Nothing weird though, and when morning (his morning) comes he can't believe how much of a prick the stoic science officer is even in his dreams—even while grabbing his hands in the middle of a mission in said dreams.
Later he realizes that the dream should've been the first warning sign.
Some time after the accidental hand touch he finds himself staring at not his own but Spock's hands, wondering what kind of emotions they would channel if he was clumsy enough to touch them. Accidentally of course, he wouldn't dare to do it on purpose, not when he has felt those same hands around his throat. It seems that most of his experiences with Vulcans have been unfortunate; either they are dying, forcing themselves into his mind or trying to kill him—all of which he still had nightmares of. How lame is it to have nightmares about old-Spock approaching you with his arm extended? It's a new low for his dreams, but luckily there's nobody who's going to know about it, other than him.
Wait, can Vulcan's get inside peoples dreams?
He's startled from his thoughts by a beep from communications. Uhura requests a permission to contact headquarters about their latest find. He tells her to do so and gets up from his chair leaving the comm to Spock. He really needs to talk to Bones and find out more about Vulcan abilities, because pondering about them day and night is going to drive him up the walls.
The mission to sickbay doesn't go very well, as Bones tells him to stuff it or go ask Spock and stop harassing him while he's on duty—as is the captain. He sulks out before Bones can tell him off any worse. He figures he should return to the bridge, but being dissatisfied with the results on gaining more information added to catching a glimpse of doctor M'benga in one of the laboratories makes him decide otherwise. He slips into the room, greets the doctor and even asks him about his work before bombing him with his questions. The doctor, though mildly confused at the captains interest (not to mention presence while he should've been on the bridge) answers dutifully and probably better than Bones ever could've. This is why they have a Vulcan expert aboard the Enterprise.
Well, no, it's because they have a surprising amount of Vulcans in their crew, including the first officer. But the second reason or the third at least, is so the doctor can provide him with answers. And those he gets, and what he finds out is… mind-blowing, much like Vulcans seem to be in the literal sense.
The first thing he learns is that Vulcans can indeed sneak a peek into your dreams, which he finds equally fascinating and disturbing. Fascinating in a sense, because countless Earth myths have throughout times depicted people with the ability to travel into peoples dreams to cure sicknesses or to seek answers to problems on the dreamers life, but so far he hasn't ever heard of it actually happening. It makes him wonder did early Vulcan history have such healers or spiritual leaders, or did everyone have equal rights about the dream visiting? He curses his limitable knowledge on everything Vulcan—though he realizes that it has something to do with the very much closed of society and life that the pointy eared federation members lead.
They remind him of the Japanese in late twentieth-early twenty-first century. That closed off society was broken apart by the third world war and the thought of that makes him momentarily wonder if the same kind of opening up is going to happen with the Vulcan survivors now after the whole Nero-disaster.
Mostly though, the popping up in your dream-idea freaks him out. If Vulcans are secretive about their emotions and habits, he is too about locking up his mind and keeping it a no trespassing-sort of area. Especially so with his dreams; if he can't understand some of that shit, he doesn't want to think about Spock seeing them. Why did he automatically think about Spock? Could be any random Vulcan for all he knows. Doctor M'Benga reassures him that Vulcans have extremely strict protocols about these sorts of things and that they will always follow those protocols—like he hadn't already gathered as much. Vulcan's are suckers for rules, Spock is no exception. Personally he thinks that rules are bendable if it means reaching greater good.
And if thinking about somebody screwing up his dreams wasn't creepy enough for him, when the doctor brings up the subject of Vulcan marital bonds he swears he's had it with the green-blooded aliens. Seriously? Seriously? Like anyone could live with another person (and mostly a person who's just picked out for you by your family, who would've thought Vulcans were so conservative) in their mind 24/7—he knows that he couldn't.
Still, as he laughs off the idea with the doctor, who too finds it a bit too much even if he has spent most of his studies among Vulcans, he considers it. The thought of forming such a bond makes his mind tingle, which is weird and he probably should be worried but he isn't. He's near paranoid about his inner privacy, so maybe it's just good to fantasize about letting go of all those boundaries once.
If it were just once, that is. Soon after the conversation with M'Benga his thoughts turn from Spock's hands to possible melds and then bonds and this is the part where finally realizes that something isn't exactly right. One shouldn't have fantasies about bonding with their first officers who are huge pricks and on top of that probably still haven't gotten over their grudge against him. He would consult Bones for any help, just drinking himself to oblivion on a free night would do, but it seems like the good old doctor has taken a 'don't ask, don't tell'-policy, meaning 'don't ask about anything connected to Spock, because I won't answer'. Whenever he tries he either gets kicked out of the sick bay or told to ask Spock.
Ask Spock and ask Spock… what the hell could he ask Spock? 'Hey, you mind melding with me?' He snorts aloud at that terribly constructed sentence and a petite blonde ensign from engineering flashes him a smile. One of the joys of captaincy is knowing that you could do near anything odd and the crew would still act like it was a normal day. If only they knew about his inner problems with Vulcans—or one Vulcan especially.
Truly, in a few weeks time he comes to realize that every problem he has now connects to Spock in some way.
Can he sleep well at night? No, he has weird dreams, still as non-sexual as he'd like to keep them thank you very much. Can he concentrate on the bridge? No, Spock is usually right there and he keeps thinking about weird Vulcan ways. Can he talk to Bones? No, not about his problems, because they're connected to Spock. Better yet, the problems are gradually getting worse and getting completely random, like if he can do this or that and what would Spock say. Since when has he needed the Vulcan's permission to do things?
On the outside, he doesn't know where their relationship stands. Somewhere between friends and enemies—really, he can't tell. All he knows is that even with Spock being the main source of his troubles he's more inclined to spend his free time with the science officer than ever before. They don't talk all that much when they're together, or maybe that's how he feels because he's used to bickering with Bones. And because Spock is a Vulcan (not that he was unclear on that part) they never talk about trivial things, only business. Things about family are much too painful for both, escapades with women an embarrassing subject for him and a strange one for Spock, so it leaves them with things they are interested in.
Mainly, that means work. Work is a passion for them both, it seems—not that it really surprises him to hear that Spock likes working. What more, they seem to prefer the same kinds of working methods, they have the same habits every day and while it might've been quickly discussed he remembers everyday on the bridge how amazing it is to have a first that understands him and his ways so well.
Wait, that sounds wrong. Or does it? He's not sure anymore.
A lot of time they play chess. Spock is the only real challenge he's ever faced in the game and undoubtedly the best player positioned on the ship. He comes as a good second though, and manages to put up quite a fight before going down and occasionally even winning. He swears he's getting there with cracking Spock's chess strategies open, he just needs time and he's learning every second while they play just by watching the man. There's not much space or need for discussion when a game is on, other than 'your move', so he gets to stare a lot.
C'mon, he's sounding like a creeper now, that's definitely not good progress.
His only, weak, defense after some time with regular chess matches becomes those dreams he has. They're still as innocent, weird sure, but innocent. Playing chess with Spock, beaming down on missions with Spock, going rock climbing with Spock, (he has no idea where that has come from, but he sure as hell wants to try it some day) and the occasional nightmare about seeing Vulcan crumbling into pieces on the screen or hearing the cries of the starving children on Tarsus IV. The dreams are normal, socially acceptable and all in all friendly. Nothing more and he's really glad for his brain not making stuff up. Also, he's glad that the dreams about melding with old-Spock have grown seldom, because dude, those were unpleasant. Though, he can't say that he anymore finds the idea of a mind meld with Spock repulsive—it just needs to be the younger one doing the meld.
Then they go on regular exploration mission and things go awry.
No there wasn't supposed to be Klingon warbird in orbit around the same planet that takes up the Enterprises attention and leaves the away-team stranded and down on their luck, reminding him that he really should listen to the regulations about first officers and captains not going to on the same mission. Part of him says that it's just common sense, because the ship really needs her leaders at times of crises, but that would mean that mostly only Spock got out and god forbid that he lets his best first officer out of his sight for too long. So there they are: the captain and the first, along with one security team member and a couple of personnel from the science department, all stuck.
The second thing that goes differently than it was supposed to is when they are ambushed by a group of unfriendly natives—just his luck really, seeing as there is no backup coming they have to find the most vicious, human and Vulcan eating aliens. Luckily, they manage to escape with no casualties and only a few injuries—though the poor red shirt Clarks gets a nasty cut on his arm and the botanist Chang twists her ankle at some point.
Among the many fights he's witnessed during his life the one on the planet is very unmemorable, but there remains one moment that sticks to his mind like glue. While trying to help ensign Chang as they were retreating into safety, he failed to notice that one of their pursuers had sneaked to his backside and was ready to jump him as he turned around at Ms. Chang's shriek. The creature didn't get to taste his meat, though, because Spock, appearing like a very logical superman from somewhere, grabbed it and threw it far off with his bare hands. After that they stared at each other for some funny seconds and the world held its breath before spurring back into movement.
What he saw in Spock's eyes… well, one could say that it was enough for him to see something at all. He knows he saw worry, which is understandable considering that Spock's duty is more or less to protect his bravely foolish captain. But underneath the worry in that ever so calculating gaze was anger—an incredible anger, which isn't all that unfamiliar to him like his neck remembers, and an anger that lit up his insides and made him feel kinda hot for a moment.
After the mess is resolved and they're all happily back on the Enterprise Jim falls asleep with memories of that gaze and his dreams involve all too much possessive Vulcans and too little clothes for his tastes. He also dreams about being strangled, again, and he fucking enjoys it. When he wakes up, sweating and breathing hard he's more turned on than he's ever been. He hadn't known about his secret masochistic tendencies (which were quite troubling), but if he's being honest with himself he had kind of known that he has the hots for his male, Vulcan first officer.
It had started with the hand touch.
Once he isn't in denial anymore watching those hands becomes a regular, pleasurable pain. They're a man's hands alright, but graceful with long fingers that know their way on the strings of some odd Vulcan instrument that he has seen Spock playing. Those hands pick up chess pieces so easily and with a tiny move can crush him completely—'chess' for Spock means 'kicking the captains ass' after said captain realizes he has sort of fallen in love with his first and cannot thus concentrate on beating the near unbeatable.
In a few nights it is clear that he can't sleep with the dreams going on and in a few days after that he is so tired that he could kill for a dreamless night. He drags himself to Bones' office after his shift, because he needs help, he has a ship to run and he can't do it if he's drunk on the lack of sleep. The doctor listens, but asks only one question: whether or not it's about Spock. He finds himself unable to answer. The doctor laughs and he's irritated because he doesn't find anything close to amusing in the situation. Bones still throws him out, but doesn't tell him to ask Spock. Instead he says:
"Just tell him already."
Damn Bones for always knowing before him.
He is at a loss that night—literally. He loses a game of chess to his first officer once again and sighs, but the sigh turns into a yawn. That doesn't go unnoticed by Spock, who starts questioning about his welfare and he is reminded that they are in fact in the first officer's quarters that night, because their usual board was already in use and Spock has his own—a traditional one. The environment and Spock's question have him on an edge, but it still isn't wise when he snaps back that it's Spock's fault. When a look of confusion and something else crosses the Vulcan's face it's already too late and he can't stop the dam from breaking.
So, he talks. Actually he rants, for minutes, almost manically about Vulcans and hands and mind melds and dreams and all Spock does is sitting there, listening and politely beckoning him to go on. The more he talks the more flustered he becomes, irritated because of the lack of reaction though it is the logical thing to expect. He never imagined that he'd blurt out his confession while enraged at Spock.
"...and I fucking love you, you know!"
Spock looks up into his eyes, warm, calm brown meeting desperate, clear blue and smiles as much as Spock can Smile.
"Jim," Spock says, and he realizes he hasn't noticed when the Vulcan has taken up calling him by his first name. "You talk far too much."
Yeah, he can take the hint.
They crash together, crash because it must look really violent on the outside, and he finally grabbing Spock's hands like he's wanted to for god knows how long. The shock that courses through him is so satisfying that he can distantly hear himself moan. He bites on Spock's lips and their kisses taste like copper, but it makes it all the better. It's a real miracle that they manage to land on the bed instead of missing it completely, as they tumble in a heap of limbs clutching at each other and lips seeking contact with any skin they can find.
He finds himself under Spock with his shirt most likely torn and he finds the idea of Spock ripping it incredibly hot. Though a blow on his masculinity he finds that it isn't a bad place to be at all because those fingers he's fantasized of can work wonders and make him sing praise and plead like a whore. He forces Spock to shift higher on his body for a moment to kiss the living daylights out of him and then pull his shirt over his head. For a second or less he thinks that it's funny how hairy Vulcans are when they've always lived in a hot climate, but after Spock reaches for his fly all thoughts are discarded out of the figurative window and he fumbles to help him remove their pants.
He gets the mind meld he wanted too, in the middle of everything else. And it's nothing like it was the first time with old Spock (who he'd rather not think about at the moment) because first of all there is no pain. Instead, it's all pleasure and need and joy, while he can distantly feel their bodies pulling apart and connecting somewhere lower, sending pleasant jolts of electricity up his spine. He surges through their joined minds and finds himself almost crushed with the sheer amount of love that's pushing against him from all directions. He feels so fucking lost and good in that ocean of pure feeling that it takes just a thrust and a cry and he's gone with everything turning white.
He comes to sometime later and he's not sure if he's in his own mind or Spock's, or where he ends and his newfound lover starts, but that's okay. Actually, it's more than okay. After a while of being still he's certain that yes, this is his body and he's not in a meld anymore and while Spock is lying spent next to him he can feel the Vulcan inside his own mind. It tingles.
He breaks into a grin and falls asleep.
END
A/N:
Comments during writing:
"GODDAMN, trying to write a character with pronouns only is living hell, why do I always do it?"
"It is surprisingly thoughtful text that I'm able to produce at two in the morning."
…yeah, that pretty much sums it. I started writing at 1:50 and finished exactly three hours later. Something hit me, I think.
Any mistakes are mine, feel free to note me about them. Thanks for reading!
Endles