"That isn't an irrigation front," Jim said stupidly as they watched the roiling bruise colored clouds rapidly approach.
"It is not," the wind picked up even as they stood there, blowing Jim's hair, and mussing Spock's perfect bangs. It smelled like rain, the violent kind. Thunder growled in the distance, and lightning lit up the clouds as they groaned.
Jim and Spock's communicators beeped simultaneously, and as they flicked open the staunch computer warning echoed.
"Tornado warning for your location. If it is possible, beam out of the potential touchdown zone. If not, seek shelter immediately."
"This day just gets better and better," Jim groaned for Spock's benefit. However,MHD was thrilled that something so magnificent, so dangerous, was finally happening.
"Does this house possess a shelter?" Spock asked, brining the broken screen door into his home, which was a good idea. Jim ran to the front and did the same with the other screen, locking the wooden door, before not quite running back to the kitchen (running hadn't been such a good idea in the first place) and locking the side door, checking to make sure all the other windows on the first floor were locked as well.
"Yes, there is a cellar. I'm worried that the house will come down on top of us though." That had some of Jim's excitement withering. Spock had already flipped his communicator open again.
"I am ordering an emergency beam out from Star Fleet Command."
"Spock, I don't think that's going to work."
"Earth Transport Command, this is acting captain Spock, requesting emergency beam out." They both waited, Jim with baited breath, for the few seconds of silence. Then the communicator buzzed.
"Unable to reach Earth Transport Command. Try again later." Jim worried for the safety of the small plastic device as Spock's hand closed tightly around it.
"There's always a lot of ionic interference from intense electrical storms like this one," Jim rationalized, "We should probably take our belongings and get to the cellar now." Hail was starting to bang into the house, cracking against the windows.
"The logical course of action. I will take our belongings. Lead the way Captain."
Jim gladly obliged, (finally some action in his life, something to dig his teeth into) opening the door that lead to the basement, well, it was really more of a cellar. The stairs were particularly creaky, but they held under Spock's denser body structure and carried them all the way to the concrete floor. Jim waved his hands through the coating of spiderwebs and managed to find the pull cord to the lights, illuminating the cellar in a weak yellowish glow. Plastic crates of old things cluttered the already small amount of available space. Shoving a few over, they never used to be this heavy, he cleared room for Spock and him to sit with their backs to the cement.
Jim slid down the wall, glad it was cool and not really minding the chalkiness that sprinkled across his face and shoulders. Spock dropped the bags and came to sit beside him, sleek body sliding gracefully to his side.
And he was covered with cobwebs.
"Spock," Jim chuckled, reaching over and beginning to clean his friends hair, pulling the strands away from the perfect bangs. "You are covered in cobwebs."
"I am," Jim stopped mid motion, that voice was deep, rolling like the thunder outside. Jim examined Spock's eyes, but he couldn't tell of the pupils were blown, it was just too dark. "You are as well Captain," those thin hands began flicking over his own hair, removing the webs, though unlike Jim's movements, there was very little actual contact between Spock's hands and Jim's head.
Jim wanted to kiss Spock.
The light flickered, and then went out as the wind began to howl even louder over the plain.
Rephrase.
Jim really wanted to kiss Spock.
He let his hands trail downs his friends hair to rest on his shoulders. But for just a moment. He let them drop to his own lap before he could do anything stupid. Trust him, it was almost impossible. Jim always took what he wanted, without fear of the consequences. But losing Spock's friendship was too high a price to pay for his unreasonable infatuation with the man.
Even if they were sitting shoulder to shoulder alone in the dark.
Jim shifted uncomfortably, trying to fight back all the fantasies that were popping up in his head. Grabbing Spock's neck and just kissing him. Tearing off Spock's clothes. Pressing him naked and begging to the wall. Pressing him naked and begging to the floor. Spock pressing him-
There was a conclusive bang of thunder and Jim jumped, fear and surprise as good a mood killer as any.
"I believe the house was just struck by lightning Captain," Spock helpfully informed, his deadpan also helping to dispel the notions of breathy begging.
"Yeah," Jim was distracted. He was starting to get nervous now. The wind had passed howling a long time ago. Now, well, now it was screaming, roaring, it sounded like a Galaxy Class star ship was coming in for a landing right above their heads. He could also make out a flapping, snapping sound, which was most likely pieces of the roof tearing away.
Then the entire house began to groan, and there was a distinct shatter of one window or another. The entire structure was tugging at its foundation, straining to go airborne.
For the first time Jim actually considered the possibility that they might die.
Grabbing Spock's arm at another loud crack, Jim was swamped with a wave of fear that he couldn't beat back. Once again he was helpless. Once again he could do nothing to change his fate.
"Oh God," Jim moaned, trying desperately to take deep breaths. "Not again."
"Captain, you must, Captain, Jim," Spock snapped, prying Jim's hand off his forearm, he must have been crushing it. "Jim, you must calm down. Look at me."
"Not again, oh god not again," it was like the weight of the house had just fallen on his chest.
Spock released his tight grip on Kirks own fore arm to lift his own hand in the Vulcan salute and press Jim's hand to his own.
"Jim, it is okay. I am here. I will never leave your side." Jim focused on Spock's voice, the calm in the center of the tornado, pulling himself out of his anxiety event, letting the panic drain away.
Spock's hand, strong and hot, pressed tightly to his own. Slowly, because it took a lot of concentration, Jim shifted his own hand until it exactly mirrored Spock's, and this time there was no glass between them.
He knew this was how vulcans kissed. He just didn't know if Spock knew that he understood the connotations of his actions. Human hands were sensitive, if not as sensitive as Vulcan ones, and the action was pleasurable for himself as well.
He almost blurted out what he had wanted to say since waking up.
But instead of I love you, he just said
"Thank you, Spock."