Disclaimer: Nothing owned. The characters belong Star Trek. The song from whence this very odd and quite pointless onesie came, "Waking Up In Vegas", belongs to Katy Perry.
Warnings: Insanity. Some implied mansex between the granddaddies of slash itself. More insanity. Oh, and swearing.
Summary: Kirk decides to teach Spock how to enjoy shore leave and life in general by taking them both, along with some of their other friends, to Las Vegas. Needless to say, Things Happen. (Spock's pov)
The first thing he was aware of was the odd taste in his mouth. It was a combination of flavors, most he could not identify. He thought he tasted something suspiciously similar to chocolate. That was not a good sign. For the first time in his life, he wondered what had happened the night before. He began to take in his surroundings. There was a weight on his chest and he doubted that he actually wanted to find out what it was. He gave in and cracked an eye open. It was a hand, a strangely attractive and oddly familiar hand with very nice fingers, that led to a wrist and then an arm and then a-
"Holy fuck." He nearly gasped at the expletive. Never in his life had he so much as thought either of the two words, but something told him the situation deserved the lack of control that prompted it. Because for some inexplicable reason, the body attached to the arm draped across his chest belonged to one Captain James T. Kirk. In the flesh. Very, very much in the flesh, considering that from what he saw, he was naked. Spock may have been Vulcan, but he was not at all so naïve as to not think that when one wakes up in a bed naked with a similarly nude person, it could have been innocent. But now said nude captain was beginning to stir. He grumbled something into the pillow. "What?"
His head perked up, eyes still shut. "I said, my head hurts. And my ass, for that matter." Spock blanched. It took a moment for Kirk to get up to speed with his assumption, and Spock could clearly see the transition on his face. Grumpiness to confusion, confusion to disbelief, disbelief to shock (at which point his eyes flashed open), and shock to pure, unadulterated panic. "Holy fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…this should not have happened. Not in a million billion years. I need to go freak out now." He leapt out of the bed and began pacing angrily. His lips moved at a surprisingly furious pace, cursing and grumbling and trying to piece together exactly what had happened. Spock squeezed his eyes shut as brief images and sounds flashed before his eyes. "Vulcans do not become inebriated from the effects of alcohol, in any case. It would be chocolate that causes the similar impaired judgment and deteriorating coordination."-Downing the brown drink in front of him, desperate to prove them all wrong.-His tongue trailing down the chocolate-covered torso of a particularly busty Andorian.-"This is Vegas, Spocky. You're supposed to get wasted and indulge in mindless insanity."-"God, Jim, I bet he's so trashed he'd even make out with you."-Sloppy, alcohol-flavored lips on his, but the crackle at their joined fingertips told him it was not supposed to feel so right.-His hands were everywhere. He was hoping he could blame it all on the chocolate, but he knew it was a false hope.-"Please, Spock. It's kind of pathetic how much I want you right now."
"This should not have happened, but it needed to." His conclusion was a little sharp, but, considering that the feeling which he now recognized as attraction was something he recognized as the oppressive, lingering emotion that had overtaken him for the past few months when he was in the presence of his captain.
"What the fuck are you saying? This was such a big mistake! I am never, never going to Vegas again. It was never supposed to end up like this. I was supposed to wake up next to a pair of innovative and surprisingly flexible Orion twins, not my fucking first officer! I hate this place! I should have known that something bad would happen, and now, here we are, so deep in shit that it's a wonder we can still breathe. Jesus, what kind of person gets so trashed they wake up next to their best friend?" Spock sat up and stared at him.
"I would like to take a moment to inform you that you have become a total hypocrite. I would like to take another moment to borrow a few human phrases, considering that at the moment, I believe you would understand more fully. Shut up and put your money where your mouth is. That's what you get for waking up in Vegas." Kirk just stared at him in a sort of pained wonder.
"That's the most human thing you've ever said in your life." He shuddered. "Aw, fuck it. I'm getting dressed and finding Bones." He did just that, with Spock finding it logical to follow his plan of action. Before long, they were banging on the door next to theirs at the gaudy hotel. A very, very disheveled and most definitely hung over Bones answered, scowling like he thought it meant something.
"Goddammit, Jim! I don't have time for you right now. I'm tired, hung-over, and dealing with a little situation." Nonetheless, Bones allowed them into the living room portion of his suite and they all sat.
Kirk sat anxiously for a moment, then exploded. "Fuck you! This is all your doing!" Jim accused, gesturing between Spock and himself furiously. He then pulled down his shirt and lifted it, pointing aggressively at the hickeys. Spock felt his ears grow a little warmer when he spotted one that just disappeared at the top of his pants. Bones looked between the two of them for a second with no expression, then began laughing raucously, if not a little maniacally.
"I hate to say it, Jim, but get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now. That's what you get for waking up in Vegas." He sighed heavily. "I kinda know how that feels."
A second later, they all stiffened at the sound of a voice coming from the other room. It held the same confusion and worry that Spock and Kirk had felt upon waking earlier. The voice, uncharacteristically distressed, spoke the unofficial Vegas motto: "What the hell happened last night?"
Apparently, Uhura had just woken up.