In which Kirk continues to cross lines and McCoy joins the fun.
The only similarities between vampires and Vulcans are orthographic, but as a flash of lightning blasted an austere, thin face in sharp horizontal lines and dark eyes flashed open under eternally slanted brows, Spock could easily have been mistaken for the infamous Dracula himself. Heavy raindrops battered the balcony window as he calmly allowed comprehension and control to reassimilate with his extremities. Facts assembled themselves at a languid pace and another flash of cosmic electricity illuminated his head and piercing gaze as both turned to the left. Before the light faded to pelting precipitation he made out a familiar set of features that were curiously out of place.
"Jim?" Kirk paused in his settling, looking up slowly to where he imagined Spock's face must be, mouth slightly open and a faint glare forming in response to his apprehension. He held his body still, halfway hoping his intrusion would pass unnoticed under the cover of the thunderstorm's distracting background noise. A hand met his side and then his shoulder and against all hope he bit his lower lip and held his breath. "Jim," Spock repeated in his gravely, unused voice. The breath was released and Kirk finished wiggling under the sheets to lie beside the Vulcan.
"Hey, Spock, sorry if I woke you," he whispered vaguely before turning to his side and facing away from the questioning stare invisible in the darkness. Spock watched an arm extend upon a smuggled pillow and another reach across Kirk's torso from his position flat on his back, head twisted for observation. Light slit through the window blinds across the comfortable yet all the same uninvited form of the captain. He raised his eyebrows. Blinked. He propped himself up on an elbow, increasingly perturbed by the total lack of explanation.
"Jim," he fumbled slightly for the absolutely most efficient wording, "can I assist you with something?" Kirk shifted slightly in response, as if he held the miraculous hope that Spock would believe him to be asleep after a mere sixty-eight second period since he'd last spoken. Perhaps the most logical action in this situation was indeed to simply swap beds, but having made concessions with communal showering against his better judgment, his peculiar Vulcan stubbornness compelled him to pursue interrogation before accepting intentional bed sharing. "Jim," he spoke with tactfully low volume, "you are awake." His determined glare focused unwaveringly on the inactive shadow of the captain; thunder purred ominously in the relentlessly pitch black outdoors. "I am giving you, graciously, the opportunity to explain yourself, opening the possibility for assistance, but if not taken, encouraging me to desert my quarters in favor of a more private environment." Lightning cracked, revealing Kirk as he turned to lie on his back, exhaling resignedly and fixing a troubled gaze on the ceiling.
"Fair enough, Mr. Spock," he breathed morosely, as if such a request was painfully unreasonable and cost him much that was not due. The precisely ten seconds allowed for unprompted explanation were unused. Spock rose his eyebrows grimly, glancing aside as the apartment building quaked from now aggressively rumbling thunder.
"Jim…" he grappled once more with appropriate phrasing, noting his consistent failure thus far to reply swiftly and assuredly with considerable incomprehension. "Your company is generally unobjectionable, but the circumstances are most definitely so. I cannot perceive logical motives for waking late in the night and forsaking one's bed for one occupied by a dormant second party, effectively disrupting the rest and comfort of multiple people at a time when mental capabilities are commonly less than functional." Temporary brightness threw long shadows across the quiet space. "My initial conjectures are flawed. If a fracture was permitting the precipitation to dampen your sleeping materials, my knowledge of your character indicates that you would resourcefully amend the issue individually. If you were unfortunate enough to harbor a fear of thunderstorms or their components, I would predict a stoic suffering in silence or an appeal to doctor McCoy rather than to myself. Or if you-"
"What if I was just lonely, Spock, what then?" the blinds quivered audibly as the cycles of the storm repeated. "What if… my room felt too empty, and my… my heart beat was the only thing I could hear?" Kirk broke his stare down with the drab popcorn-ed ceiling to assess Spock's darkly silhouetted form to his right. He chuckled quietly. "You're raising your eyebrows." The statement was validated by a fleeting brightness through streaming glass doors.
"You apparently understand my tendencies more completely than I do yours, captain." Kirk resisted communicating that Spock was now barely lifting the corners of his mouth in his version of a smile. "Given your hypothetical situation, I would have incorrectly projected you to remain awake, finding an engaging activity to preoccupy your disquieted mind." At the end of this statement, Spock had finished readjusting himself in a position identical to Kirk's, the two of them shoulder to shoulder matching the width of the mattress to hundredths of centimeters. The patter of pelting droplets replaced conversation for minutes that consciously went uncounted. Kirk cringed apprehensively as the intimidating chill that accompanied "the accusatory eyebrow raise" caused him to tighten his grip on the coverlet. "You know the new password?" Spock angled has face towards the outline of Kirk's profile. The wary bed guest relaxed with the voicing of the pending query.
"No," he replied calmly, "the power's out; I slid it open." The pair squinted against the blare of lightning as they lapsed again into silence. Spock, easily adapting to such crowded conditions as his normal dormant position was unchanged, closed his eyes lightly, methodically dismantling thoughts in preparation for repose. Kirk, however, mouthed soundlessly in contemplation for several moments before half closing his eyes with contentment. "It's Leonard." In turn, Spock remained perfectly stationary and unresponsive. An arm flopped encouragingly, back of the hand nailing his abdomen sharply, reflexes forcing his eyelids to part as a breath huffed with an abbreviated exit. "Isn't it?"
"The password?"
"Yes…" Spock shut his eye gradually and purposefully.
"You prove yet again the disadvantages of logical approaches. They can be deduced."
"Don't worry, Spock," Kirk turned to his side, voice straining from exertion, "you're getting much more flexible." Kirk's smile cracked into hushed laughter in anticipation of the oncoming lecture.
"Most fortunately-"
Thunk thunk thunk!
The captain twisted his shoulders to view the door joining he and Spock's rooms and the Vulcan shifted his steady glare in the same direction.
"James Tiberius Kirk," the evidently undampened by sleep hiss of who could be no one but the good doctor himself followed the knocks with equal force. "What the hell are you doing in there- I've been talking to an empty room for a good forty-five minutes and I- god damned! Just wait till I get this blasted-" a crack of lightning threw a rapidly blinking and stumbling McCoy into relief as his full body weight sent the door ricocheting in its tracks. The strained mattress compressed to new lows as a third party shoved himself under the sheets with no hesitation, mouth running all the while. "I couldn't get to sleep what with all the rain, and stormin', and," Spock turned to his side with three cautious movements, "I called your name about forty hundred times before I got up and saw you weren't to be found in your own place, so I searched the whole damn apartment until-"
"Bones," the agitated MD cut himself off immediately, mouth paused forming the next word of his rant. Kirk reached an arm over Spock to grasp McCoy's shoulder, yawning as much for emphasis as for a need, "Here I am, here we all are… Let's just let well enough alone and go to sleep before the sun comes up."
"Which is what I was tryin' to do in the first place!" McCoy sardined up close, resting his forehead between Spock's shoulder blades irritably. The thunder trembled mutely, herding the storm through the atmosphere. Kirk scooted in until his back touched Spock's hands before pulling his pillow down into a loose grip.
"Night, all." Rain clouds remained to drip peacefully against the balcony doors. Spock nuzzled his section of pillow vigorously, shrugging the blankets onto his shoulders with minimal motions. Someone sighed deeply and covertly. McCoy adjusted his limbs, mouth twitching in residual agitation.
"I don't know… you got a spare salet or something?" The bed shook as Kirk chuckled sleepily.
"For?"
"Never mind, Spock… just… get on to sleeping."
"With your permission, doctor," McCoy punched him lightly in the back, but made no vicious reply. The room counted a lulling silence as several pairs of eyes opened or shut, legs straightened or bent, hands folded or reached, or backs curved forward or back.
"Spock," Kirk spoke with dreamlike delicacy, "your heart is beating on my elbow."
"Jim, I believe it is easier for you to relocate your joint than for me to relocate my internal organs."
"Oh, I never said I minded, Spock."
"Good night, Jim." The thunder was now no more threatening than the sounds of light breathing beginning to settle in the room.
The chatter he could perhaps do without, but the extra body heat was something Spock found quite agreeable.