For the absolutely wonderful, albiet slightly scary (but in a fantabulous 'get a move on' good way) Neomeneomine, an awesome writer whose name I can't say aloud without sounding like a complete idiot, or write without having to check no less than three times to make sure I spelt it correctly. She sets politics on fire!= Pure. Awesome. Gold.

~ooOOoo~

Jim slumped further forward in his seat and rolled his eyes. "Well I could have told you that," he muttered, cupping his jaw in the palm of his hand and staring absently down the quiet confines of the train. What sort of normal person would actually use the subway at this time of night? Everyone knew it wasn't exactly safe, what with the cops not usually patrolling down so far. You could get all sorts skulking around in the gloom.

You just had to love sunny San Francisco state...

Jim snorted, ignoring the look he was given from the only other occupant of the train because of it.

Yes, he did notice the irony of his comment and situation. He hadn't had much of a choice in the matter though. It was either the subway or sleeping in some dingy darkened alleyway out the back of some bar with rats and who knows what types of diseases.

Oh yes, he lived the high life alright.

He squeezed his eyes shut relishing in the momentary darkness and absence of his sorry excuse of a world around him.

Out of sight out of mind was a really lovely motto to live by.

Pity it didn't really work for everything.

It was rather difficult to be blind by choice.

He sighed heavily, blinking his eyes open and rubbing at the grit that had managed to glue them together in the few short seconds. His vision was started to become less blurry. Jim's shoulders dropped. Damn, he was starting to become slightly more coherent- probably not a good thing. With comprehension would come understanding, and with understanding would come the inevitable realisation that he'd just gone and been a complete and utter idiot again, all for a few drinks.

How much could you hate yourself before it became a clinical illness?

He turned around, rubbing his hand along his jaw and staring intently at the bolted down plastic chairs in front of him blankly. Man he hated the quiet, the silence. Some people found it comforting; he just found it down right unnerving unless he was the only one around. Even then he was prone to talk to himself. Made him look completely mad half the time but then, who wasn't?

Sane was so last year.

"So..."

Well, that got him another look, one which seemed mildly curious.

"You are..." he paused, flicking his gaze sideways and studied the man...being before him:

Harsh slanted eyebrows, pointed ears...hm.

"Romulan?" he asked, blue eyes sweeping up and down the lean body intently, tilting his head to the side to get a better look. Dark eyes followed his movements almost warily as if he was some sort of dangerous animal.

Even as he said it though, he knew he was wrong. He'd met Romulan's before. Oh yeah. The tough type who could drink you under the table while effectively emptying your pockets in a game of poker. They also seemed to have an endless fascination and love for body art which, Jim could not deny it, was sometimes some really awesome shit.

The man before him now was altogether too...perfect to be Romulan. And dude, when he said perfect he seriously meant...perfect. Like, shine your shoes, steam press your clothes, wash your hands ten times a day and not having a hair out of place, freakishly clean perfect.

Jim paused, eyes still on the raven black hair. He mentally gave an eye roll. Right yeah, of course.

A Vulcan.

What with that type of hair cut you could hardly miss it couldn't you?

The guy was looking at him again and Jim let a mischievous smirk slowly turn up his lips. He really couldn't help it. "Klingon?"

Dark eyebrows inched upwards. "No."

"Andorian?"

Eyes narrowed. "No."

Jim bit his lip, the corner of his mouth twitching. Spock sat rigidly in his seat. His back was ramrod straight and his pale face completely devoid of emotion. For all intents and purposes he looked absolutely calm and content. It was really quite impressive for a member of the Vulcan race who, despite obvious denial of it, had such a bad case of 'pride' it was almost hubris for their culture.

Perhaps he hadn't realised that Jim's vantage point gave him a clear view of the canted jaw line which seemed just slightly too clenched to be natural though.

Jim smirked at the offending angle.

"Lenocan?"

"No."

"Gren-"

Dark brown eyes flashed angrily. "What I am seems to be invisible currently or you have imbibed an excess amount of intoxicant as of late and logic has since deserted you."

Jim gave a bark of laughter.

"Oh, don't be like that Steven," he said, patting the shoulder next to him affectionately before throwing all caution to the wind and slinging his entire arm around it haphazardly, leaning into the warm body which stiffened instantly against his touch and attempted to shift away from him.

Jim didn't give an inch.

"It is Spock."

Jim shrugged his free shoulder and grinned cockily.

"Whatever."

It was officially piss-off a Vulcan day.

Which, all things considered, probably wasn't the most genius of ideas since the guy could probably snap him in half or something if he really felt like it. Though, he was pretty certain Vulcan's were a peaceful race or...whatever. Mmph. He really was too dead to form much of a coherent thought pasts few ideas.

"Please remove your person from my presence."

The Vulcan's voice was low and controlled, and yet, Jim could sense the otherwise impending annoyance and chaos hovering just beneath the surface almost sinisterly.

Oh and how he welcomed it with open arms.

He could sense the danger; he could feel the threat lurking just inside the train. It made him feel alive. It was probably a combination of both the remainder of alcohol in his system as well as his standard self-destructive tendencies but man, was it brilliant.

The epitome of emotional control was slowly losing control, like a burning fuse. How much more fuel could it take before the inevitable?

"Remove me yourself," he finally replied, breathing it into one of the elegant pointed ears. He watched in amusement as they flushed a light green and how deep brown eyes fluttered shut. The Vulcan's throat moved as he swallowed. Jim could feel the warm body moving with each deep breath which was slowing being taken in, one at a time almost painfully.

Controlled, constrained...

"I will ask you once more, please-"

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p' before laughing softly, silently daring the other man to react.

I dare you.

The Vulcan's nostrils flared and his eyes flew open.

Searing hot hands roughly grabbed his wrists and pulled sharply; twisting Jims arms back, allowing the Vulcan to move out of the humans hold. Jim felt a slight crack as he was shoved back down into his seat, but he ignored it in favour of watching as those warm brown eyes quickly flooded black and cold like flint. They bore into him, sparked with anger and his own ice blue ones stared right back. He was never one to back down and he always finished what he started. He jerked his chin up, glaring up into that perfect face which looked down at him.

He'd already played with fire so many times...

The pale fingers wrapped around the skin of his hands squeezed tightly as the Vulcan's eyes narrowed, a faint rumbling vibrating through him.

Was he actually...growling?

Jim tilted his head to the side, the corner of his mouth twisted upwards into a manic smile, eyes slightly unfocussed and glazed. He could feel emotion pulsing through him with fervour so fast that he didn't have time to tie one down and name it. Frustration though, oh yes, that was definitely there- absolute reams of it. And annoyance- though not just at him, pity, but at something else, something he couldn't quite pin down. Something...

Oh, yes. This Vulcan felt.

The raw emotion was beautiful, coursing through his veins, burning his blood. Jim's eyes fluttered shut against the turmoil. Oh how he wished he could feel like this. Not the dead and muted sense of living, eyes clouded by a constant alcoholic mist, which he'd become accustomed to. Just a pure, golden feeling of existence and reality.

Please stay, he wanted to say. It was the same pitiful voice of his eight year old self, watching as everyone around him left, not able to do anything as his brother and mother and everyone he cared for walked away.

The hands tore away from his wrists.

No...

Jim gasped, suddenly empty, as everything within him disappeared so quickly his eyes watered. His eyes whipped open to find the Vulcan on the opposite side of the train, crowded against the mechanical doors, all anger gone and staring at him wide-eyed, almost warily.

How emotive those brown eyes were; a sharp contrast to the rest of the much put together guy.

Jim laughed breathless, wiping a hand across his cheek. He let it drop, along with his head, beside the other which lay upon his jeans. His mouth twitched and he curled his fingers in harshly, squeezing until he felt his nails begin to dig into the skin with a pinching pain. He breathed in and relaxed them, watching the small white half moon crescent indents slowly fade as the pale digits unfurled from his palm.

Everything eventually faded.

He looked up and smiled sadly, eyes glassy.

"Having a bad day, Spock?"

"You wanted this?" The words were sharp and harsh, more a statement of blame than a question.

Jim's face dropped, all emotion gone.

"Wanted what, Spock?" He asked, almost spitting the words out. God, why couldn't this guy have left him alone in the subway?

The Vulcan regained his stiff standing position, clasping his hands behind his back and looking straight ahead at the metal wall of the carriage.

"You personally antagonised me to get a response."

The clenched jaw was back again, but for some reason it only seemed saddening now.

Jim scoffed and pushed the feeling down. He shook his head. "I antagonise everyone Spock. I assure you it's nothing personal per se."

The Vulcan stilled suddenly. He tilted his head and turned back towards him. "So you say..."

Eyes were assessing him. Jim shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

He hated when people looked at him like he was some sort of science experiment ready to be dissected. It got him all jumpy.

"Why do seek danger?"

Jim froze, his entire body momentarily shutting down. His mind stalled.

"W-what?"

Spock stepped forward. Jim's hands began to sweat and he pressed them against the sides of the cold plastic seat he was sitting on.

"Why do you tempt danger? I had always presumed that the human species had a very adequate sense of survival. But you..," Spock trailed off and he moved forward again, dark eyes boring into him.

Jim jumped up nervously to his feet, wobbling slightly with a slight return of vertigo.

"...you seem to encourage it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim said, taking a step back when the Vulcan once more moved forward. The train carriage had suddenly become very small and confined. He didn't like being in places where he couldn't escape; one of his pet peeves. His eyes quickly flittered to all possible exists from his vantage point.

"I believe you do."

Jim shook his head and grabbed onto a metal pole in front of him when the train shifted on its railings. His eyes pleaded with the Vulcan in front of him. "No, I really don't-"

A gasp cut of his words as a sharp pain suddenly travelled up his left arm as the carriage jolted again, twisting him at a wierd angle. His entire body caved in reflex and he collapsed to the ground. He landed on his knees and gritted his teeth against the burn which shot up his legs. He cradled the throbbing limb in his lap, staring down at it in confusion.

"-the hell?" A faint memory of his wrist cracking from moments before flittered through his mind.

He heard quiet footsteps and a shadow fell over him.

"You are hurt?"

It was almost painful to roll his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock," he managed to get out. Fuck, it hurt.

A pale hand came into view. "Allow me to-"

Jim all but threw himself backwards, landing in a painful heap against the nearest wall and putting at least one row of seats between himself and the Vulcan. He breathed heavily, feeling a cold sweat break out upon his forehead. "Stay the hell away from me man. Go psychoanalyse someone else."

Dark eyebrows crowded together in confusion as the Vulcan slowly withdrew his hand almost uncertainly, tucking it behind his back once more. "I did not mean to offend. It is only logical to help one in need."

"Go find your own help. You certainly need some," he shot back weakly. He leant his head against the wall behind him. "This multiple personality thing mustn't be good for you."

"This is the second time you have claimed that I suffer from a psychological human ailment." The Vulcan's tone was curious. "On what do you base these facts?"

Jim gave a bark like laugh, being careful not to jolt his arm. "You're kidding me right?"

"Vulcan's do not kid."

"Oh, go pull the other one."

The Vulcan blinked. "...the other one?"

Jim flapped his hand around lamely tracing the pattern on the train floor with his eyes. "Yeah, you know -" he looked up from the floor and chocked on his next words at the blatantly perplexed expression on the Vulcan's face. Laughter bubbled out from him and echoed off from the walls.

"I do not understand..."

Jim held his stomach as the laughter racked his body, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. After a moment he was left gasping for air, chuckling every now and again. He grinned up at the Vulcan with watery eyes. "Oh your face just then was absolutely priceless. Total Kodak moment if ever I saw one."

Spock looked at him blandly. "And you are suggesting that I am the one with-"

Jim's awareness pricked suddenly.

"Shh...shh." Jim held up a hand, effectively cutting of the Vulcan's words.

He looked around. Something was different. He closed his eyes promptly. It took him only a second to realise what it was.

He opened his eyes again.

"Can you hear that?"

He pretended like he was listening to something.

He actually could. But it was more a particular form of vibration made through the breaking pads on the train than an actual sound and he could only feel it because he was currently lying up against the wall.

Either way it was hilarious watching the other guy listening for an otherwise non-existent sound.

Spock paused. "I do not," he said after a moment.

Jim sighed happily, a smile on his face letting his eyelids flutter shut and the dark swamp him, feeling the beautiful mechanical movements of the train as it automatically followed his words to the letter. "Hydraulics disengaging, engine fluid decompressing, brake pads slowing increasing in pressure, speed decreasing, weight to velocity ratio stabilising, brake pads fully engaging and 3..2..1."

The train slid to a stop.

The mechanical doors slid opened, letting fluorescent lighting filter through.

His eyes flew open, and he didn't miss the surprised look upon the others face. Man did he love to do that.

Jim squinted up at him from the floor with a grin. "This your stop?"

'Cause he didn't have a clue where they were. But then, he didn't actually have a destination in mind so...meh.

Spock looked down at him blankly, mouth slightly ajar. "Yes."

"Well go on then-" he jerked his head toward the exit. "Get outta here."

Spock seemed to snap out from whatever reprieve he'd just been in. His jaw tightened, dark eyes looking down at him intently. "You are injured. You cannot expect me to leave you here."

Jim rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad. Jeez, I'm not going to die."

Even if he did he doubted anyone would care too much. He'd brought this on himself.

Spock looked at him dubiously. Jim sighed. "Look, there's a better chance of me getting mugged, than whatever this is actually killing me." He scratched his jaw. "Then again, I don't exactly know what they would take since I don't actually have any money or anything really valuable on me." He frowned. "Actually, now that I think about it, the only partially valuable thing I have is my name and even that's a bit crap all things considered, "he said, momentarily forgetting where he was. He looked up.

The Vulcan's eyes were narrowed.

Woops.

Ok-ay, so obviously that was the wrong thing to say. Man, he hated his mouth sometimes.

He waved his good hand dismissively. "Look, forget that."

Dark eyebrows lowered. "I cannot simply forget things at will."

Jim glared at him. "Well pretend to, okay?"

Spock looked annoyed.

Jim tried to calm himself. He just wanted some peace and quiet and maybe some time to see what the hell was wrong with his arm. "If I ask nicely will you go away...please?"

The Vulcan looked down at him. "You may," he replied one eyebrow hitching up towards his hairline. "And I could."

Jim sighed, slumping down and closing his eyes. He smiled. "Awesome."

"However-"

Blue eyes whipped open and he glared.

"Oh, no, no, no Spock. There is no 'however' here."

"- logic dictates that due to your injury your are further exposed to other crimes against your person as you suggested-"

"Hey, I didn't suggest anything. I simply implied."

"-both of which mean primarily the same thing." Jim huffed. "Furthermore you are still mildly under the influence of an intoxicant and are also in the need of medical attention."

"Medical attention never really did it for me, you know what I mean?" he cut in sarcastically.

Spock's eyes flashed. "Consequently, due to your obvious dismal of your health and well-being, I do not believe you are currently able to manage such a thing on your own-"

"I'm not bloody suicidal you know."

Spock stepped towards him. "-or are likely to do so."

Jim looked to the sky. "Oh holy mother of-"

An electronical beep cut of him off. He recognised it as the warning signal for passengers to tell them that the train would be moving soon. Jim brightened, giving the Vulcan a false smile. "Oh look Spock, that's your stop!"

"I am not leaving."

The smile disappeared and he sighed heavily. "Look man, I appreciate the concern and everything, but seriously, don't make me get a restraining order, okay?"

Spock stared at him blankly.

"Really," he insisted.

Spock blinked.

The door beeped again.

"Just go damnit!"

The Vulcan's voice was calm and controlled. "No."

Jim stared at him a moment before huffing in annoyance and throwing his free hand in the air. "Fine! Stay here if you want."

The Vulcan looked mildly pleased.

"I shall."

Jim grinned evilly. "I'll go instead."

A flash of surprise crossed the unemotional face. Jim felt a sense of satisfaction shoot through him as he haphazardly heaved himself up from the floor, leaning against the wall for support. He swallowed heavily as the world spun slightly.

"I do not believe that would be advisable."

No, probably not, but Jim took a step forward away from the train wall anyway. He then shot the Vulcan a look. "I'll do whatever the damn I want thanks."

Before he knew what was happening he was being crowded back against the wall and he was staring once more into an expanse of pale smooth neck. He looked up. Coal black eyes stared him down.

"I do not understand your obvious disdain for my assistance."

He was too close. Jim felt trapped, his mouth went dry. He moved as far back as he could find any free space.

"I don't want your help," he snapped. He needed to move. He needed space.

Spock tilted his head, and his dark eyes swept down to the arm Jim still held cradled against his chest before they returned to his face.

"And yet regardless, you are going to get it."

Jim used his good hand to push Spock's away. "Just– go."

The Vulcan didn't move. "No."

Jim hardly noticed when the train doors slid shut and it slowly began to move. Spock turned around and moved to sit down again. Jim allowed a moment to breath in relief for the new open space around him before stumbling after the Vulcan.

"What is your problem?"

"As of current- you," Spock replied sharply, turning around to look at him pointedly.

Jim blinked. He worked his mouth but couldn't find any retort to throw back.

Jeez, talk about blunt.

An eyebrow flicked up.

"Sit down."

"I'll stand thanks."

The Vulcan turned away from him, eyes riveted forward.

"It is your decision."

Jim feigned surprise. "Oh really? So you won't tie me to the chair if I refuse?" he drawled with mild amusement.

Spock tensed, hands tightening where they loosely lay on top of each other in his lap.

"I will not."

Jim looked at him, tilting his head slightly to get a better view. Ah, heck he almost felt sorry for the guy who looked so incredibly uncomfortable. Guilt shot threw him. He was only trying to be nice after all and then Jim had to just go be his normal 'get the fuck out of my life' self since he wasn't wearing heels or lipstick.

Brilliant.

He really needed to create a better default setting.

He collapsed onto the chair next to the poor guy with a grunt as a sliver of pain shot through his arm. He ignored it.

"Hey."

Dark eyes flicked silently his way before promptly returning to their previous line of sight.

Jim looked at him curiously. "Yeah chuckles, I'm talking to you not the wall," he said and then laughed. A confused look was shot his way so Jim turned so he was facing the Vulcan full on.

"I'm Jim," he offered, throwing the obligatory Vulcan greeting, fingers split down the middle.

Warm brown eyes widened in blatant surprise and Jim cracked a grin.

The Vulcan found his voice. "Excuse me?"

Jim's smile grew. "I'm Jim," he repeated. "I like long walks on the beach and candle lit dinners. I enjoy sappy, romance novels and anything atrociously pink."

The Vulcan stared at him.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Jokes aside, I can also be incredibly annoying and obtrusive, with no knowledge of personal space and have frequent self-destructive tendencies."

Spock didn't seem to know what to say. Jim seemed to do that to a lot of people. He returned the hand gesture almost uncertainly, slim, pale fingers parting. "I am...Spock."

Jim brightened. "Hey there!"

Spock kept staring as he dropped his hand.

Jim let his own hand fall as well and then patted Spock on the shoulder with the same one. This time the Vulcan didn't move away at the contact. "It's okay man, we'll work on your introduction some time. I'm sure it'll be awesome eventually."

"Indeed."

"Yeah." Jim leant back against the chair and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. "So, here's a serious question for you Spock."

Spock looked at him curiously, apparently coming into grips with the human's erratic behaviour.

Jim raised his eyebrows in question. "Are all Vulcan's as stubborn as you, or do you just having a certain flare for it?"

The corner of Spock's mouth twitched upwards. "I believe that my father would say it was a particular trait I received from my mother."

"Damn, she must be one hell of a woman."

Spock tilted his head down in agreement before turning to sit back straight in his chair. "Yes, she is," he replied.

Jim shrugged. "Yeah well, I've never actually had the chance to meet any Vulcan women so I wouldn't really know what they're like and all," he said looking out the window into the pitch black tunnel as it sped past.

When he didn't receive an answer he looked back at Spock, his eyes instantly drawn to the small half smile which graced the Vulcan's lips. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he asked, slightly bemused. "But I feel like there's an in-joke in the room..."

Spock turned to him, eyebrow raised, eyes warm. Jim looked at him curiously.

"Indeed."