Casual Fridays on the U.S.S. Enterprise...
...and the Ensuing Complications.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for your support. There's less dialog in this chapter, hopefully- as of late I've been trying to hone my ability to write using a character's voice, so please point out if I write something that sounds OoC. Also, I'm gonna throw out that this is my least favourite chapter. And the worst I think. Eye-em-aitch-oh and all that. Umm...I'm out of town next week so I hope the next update comes soon but unfortunately I can't promise much...eh, on with the chapter?

Chapter Three

Absently, as he was poking through his dresser (about 1/2 Star Fleet issued clothing, and the other half most certainly not issued by higher-ups unless the higher-ups had some uses for Kirk that Spock was not privy to), he said aloud, "Vulcans kiss with their hands, right?"

"I...beg your pardon, Captain?" Spock had situated himself next to the door, and had been standing there with his typical statuesque almost-grace, but at this he looked surprisingly human, doing something not unlike a double take.

"Isn't that, like, really awkward?" White t-shirt, no. That- under no definitions appropriate. Leather jacket, no... "Cause other people must accidentally touch your hands and not even realize it."

"Sometimes, Captain, it is." The captain did not notice the twitch at the corner of his first officer's mouth as he leaned back against the wall. "I do recall one specific incident in which Nurse Chapel in the sick bay grabbed my hands, which was...most unfortunate. However, I have found that most individuals with whom I do not desire contact have respected my personal space."

Kirk chuckled, reaching into the depths of a drawer with comic over-exertion. He, however, seemed oblivious to this, pulling out a handful of clothing which he dropped onto the floor. Only to search for whatever he sought once more. It didn't make much sense to the Vulcan, keeping ones belongings in such a haphazard fashion, but then again few things about the captain were particularly well thought out. "Am I to understand that there are some persons you don't mind touching, then, Mr. Spock?" he said, shutting the drawer and moving on to the one below it.

"Perhaps, Captain." His tone was completely neutral. He had, however, raised an eyebrow at the question. "I would perhaps suggest that if a person would initiate physical contact and I should not react by inflicting either strong language or gratuitous pain, I am not averse to that person's touch."

He stopped in his search for Appropriate Clothing for a moment, trying to figure out what, exactly, the Vulcan had said. Repressed-Person speak for yes, he assumed.

Spock was still standing awkwardly by the door.

"Sit down," he said finally.

"Thank you, Captain, but I prefer to remain standing. However I do have a question regarding human culture if you would not mind such an inquiry."

"Of course not Spock- go ahead." (There was no way he was wearing that, he thought, dropping the shirt on the floor.)

"What indicates human boundaries involving interpersonal relationships and touch?"

"Umm. One of the most basic human interactions would be, I suppose, like the...shoulder slap thing. Or high five or hand shake but I guess that, y'know, all things considering, those aren't very Vulcan..." Jim realized he was essentially rambling and frowned for a second, wondering the cause for the other's interest. Oh yeah. Scientist. "Humans are expected to tolerate those interactions from, like, anyone. After that, touch gets more intimate- and you don't have to let anyone do that, but like- I dunno, hugs can be platonic...But like holding hands. Do Vulcans do that?"

"Do all humans treat touch casually?" For once, he dropped the ever present silent fascinating that he usually attached to the end of every sentence-

Kirk nearly missed the subtle stiffening of his first officer's voice. "A fair amount of us do, unfortunately...I don't, I mean. There are some...other indicators of human opinions that are generally tacitly implied rather than explicitly stated. If that's what you're looking for. For example, if I were to go 'Hey Spock have a seat' it would indicate that I enjoy your company and don't want you to leave yet. Oh..And Spock?"

The Vulcan looked up from his various musings to see that the captain had turned around to face him. "Yes, Captain?"

"...you can sit on the bed if you want, it's comfortable."

Spock did.

Kirk went back to rummaging through his clothes.

Their silence grew awkward and vaguely oppressive as Spock leaned up against the wall, his gaze still following the rather shirtless captain, who was somehow still undecided as to what fucking shirt to wear. Of course he was still agonizing over what to say next, but he was also searching for a shirt. He decided on flannel- Kirk liked flannel. And this particular shirt as much as any. He'd had it for years-

"That is a most peculiar shirt, Captain." Spock looked amused, if quirking an eyebrow translated to amusement.

"Don't mock," Kirk said, buttoning up the shirt, "my flannel." The sleeves were making the task more difficult than it should have been- the cuffs of the sleeves were worn through and ripped, making his hands clumsy. "I love this shirt. I've had it forever. Really."

"It would appear that you have, indeed, owned the article since the beginning of time, Capitan." There was a glimmer of humour in his dark- very dark- eyes.

"Was that a joke, Mr. Spock?" He smirked comfortably, straightening his shirt. "This shirt is awesome. I'm very fond of it. If I did have this at the beginning of time I'd have kept it all that time. Serious. Feel it, it's really soft."

Spock sat up, leaning forward and gripping the human's forearm with his left hand. The captain held still- deadly still- as the Vulcan traced his index an middle fingers down from his elbow most lightly-

It was just the ghost of a touch, but as the fabric frayed at Kirk's wrist, his first officer's skin touched his and to him it was like the most acute of warm static shocks straight to the bone. And Jim's eyes eyes followed those slender fingers, watching them almost touch his fingertips before halting-

He didn't look up, he just reached out with his arm- Spock let go suddenly and he was certain that the other's stoic expression had shifted-

"Fuck it," Kirk growled, and wrapped one hand around the Vulcan's wrist, dragging two golden fingers down to the other's palm, and tracing the creases there, then down to his wrist. He looked up, drawing small circles on the back of his hand.

Spock's head was just barely tilted back and his eyes were half-closed. As kirk intertwined his fingers with the other's, the Vulcan's mouth opened as he gasped.

"This is a slightly more intimate interaction, Captain," he said, finally looking up but not quite meeting Kirk's eyes.

It irritated the human that he sounded mostly unaffected, but then again he could remedy that. "Yeah," he said, and brought Spock's hand closer to him-

The captain kissed Spock's fingertips lightly, still staring at his almost-expression. He traced the insides of his fingers with one hand and began to kiss the skin between his forefinger and thumb- lightly at first, but-

Which was when Spock growled, and that was the only warning Jim had. Because suddenly he had been pulled down onto the Vulcan, then pinned to his own bed- and all quickly enough he barely had a chance to register such before Spock's mouth was on his neck and his breath was hot as hell-

His arms were pinned to the headboard by one of Spock's hands, stronger than him by devil may care how much and his skin burning more than feverishly- he had begun to sweat and the Vulcan's right hand was ripping his shirt off. Actually ripping.

Suddenly his teeth sank into Kirk's lower neck as he felt the shirt that definitely used to be in his body was tied around his wrists and what was most likely the bedpost, but he couldn't really be bothered to care.