I'm so flattered by the comments I've been getting you guys, it's a bit overwhelming in the best way possible! :D THANK YOU!
So… AngelBaby1 is awesome. You all know this. You SHOULD all know this. And because she is awesome she pimped this fic in one of her A/N. So I am now doing that too, also, as well, in return. So if you haven't read her fic "Atlas" you should, you know, read it.
NAO.
(but be warned symptoms include randomly shouting "FU sleep!")
The Fourteenth Time
The relationship between the Captain and myself was not changed dramatically by the events of Bryn V, although we never touched again, let alone embraced. I was glad of this. On the bridge we consistently remained professional, at least as professional as we had been before, and when off-duty we still sometimes ate meals together if our shifts allowed it. Jim did not even resort to the Human custom of pretending that what had happened that night… had not happened. In fact, when we were alone, he often referenced it. Quite often.
Peculiarly often.
It was infuriating, really, the number of times he would bring the topic into a conversation, trying to catch me unawares or trap me into 'admitting' something. He was stubborn and insistent, but I had spent a lifetime learning to conceal what I was thinking. I saw no logic in telling him that his suspicions were true; Jim knowing that I was sexually attracted to him did in no way change our present situation.
After extensive mediation and internal struggle, I had decided not to breach the walls my mind had erected to protect itself. I did not know what it was protecting me from, but if my reaction had been so instinctively powerful, it must be knowledge best learnt after I had given myself time to regain strength and order. There was no immediate danger. After the period of intense struggle and the beginnings of the dangerous spiral that was Jim Kirk… it was logical to postpone a possible crisis until I was ready to face its consequences and deal with them accordingly.
Only sometimes, when I was falling asleep, did a strange taunting voice whisper in my ear… that I was afraid.
"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying, Spock?" Jim's voice said loudly over the communicator. I was sitting in my room preparing to meet him in the gymnasium for a sparring match. The Captain and I had never fought before… for recreational purposes. I had to admit to a negative instinctual reaction to the activity because Jim had asked me to join him in a most peculiar manner. The exact conversation went thus:
"So Spock, here's a crazy idea; you and me, tomorrow, a sparring match. Sound like a plan?"
"I think not."
"… Wow, okay. Are you gonna elaborate that negative?"
"I would overpower you with excessive ease. Fighting you would not be a challenge for me, and you might be better suited to practice with someone else. Someone Human, so that you are more evenly matched."
"Think of it as a favour, so I can improve—"
"You can improve by fighting another Human."
"… Huh. Okay, I guess you have a point… maybe I can ask Kyle, he'll probably say yes."
"Ensign McGregor? A poor choice, he is much taller than you, and has more muscle definition."
"Oy, my muscle definition is perfect."
"I said he had more, I did not say that yours was not perfect."
"…"
"Jim?"
"Ngh? Nothing. Okay then, what about Security Officer--?"
"If you are so insistent upon sparring with someone of superior strength I suppose I shall have to volunteer. I am the best candidate, for I will not harm you unintentionally."
"Awesome. So you and me, tomorrow, a sparring match. It's a plan."
"Spock! Hellooooo? Are you even there?"
"I am here, Captain."
"Hallelujah. So I'll see you in five minutes?"
"Yes."
While my calm and serenity had returned since Bryn V, testing them to their limits was not a logical course of action.
I left my quarters to meet him.
Exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds later I entered one of the training rooms, to find the Captain was already there, waiting. He wore his usual exercising attire; red pants and a light grey shirt, and sat on top of a pile of mats at the corner of the small, square space.
He was also smiling faintly, but not in a way that conveyed much happiness. I did not understand this expression.
"Hey Spock."
"Hello, Captain."
"You're sparring in your uniform?" he chuckled.
"Yes."
"Aren't you going to remove the blue shirt, at least?"
"Very well." I did, hoping he was satisfied.
Jim stood and rolled his shoulders. "Great. So, are you ready?"
"It would be prudent to stretch your muscles before engaging in physical activity."
The strange light in his eyes flared brighter. Something in him was not quite right, he was masking his emotions again. We both were, this time.
"I'm feeling a bit reckless today. Let's skip all that."
"I do not think—"
Suddenly he lashed out, a fast arm aiming directly for my zygomatic bone. I deflected the blow, but it had been utterly unexpected and deceptively strong.
Jim grinned and I did not experience my usual difficulty in not returning the gesture. I was about to ask him what troubled him, but he struck again, this time both with a foot and a punch, perhaps an attempt to distract me.
It had worked.
I avoided his fist but found myself thrown off balance by the kick, and when he threw his weight behind another punch I staggered backward, although I did not fall; the gravity setting in the ship being equivalent to Earth's, therefore facilitating my movements.
"Come on, Spock, you said this would be a piece of cake for you!"
Disregarding his strange form of figurative speech, I launched myself at Jim and easily threw him to the floor, pinning his arms above his head in an attempt to demonstrate 'my point'.
"I said fighting you would not be a challenge for me," I reminded him. His skin had begun to perspire, and I stood up quickly, feeling the slight pressure in the walls of my mind, behind it something threatening to spill, something that called out to the Captain. It had been foolish to come here.
And yet as I gazed down at him prone on the floor I knew I could not leave.
Jim was gasping for breath. "That was… brutal," he said, a more usual grin momentarily passing over his features before that unnerving feverish light returned.
"Captain, what is—?" Before I could complete my question he had sprung up in an impossibly agile jump and adopted a defensive position.
"Let's not talk for now," he panted.
"I believe there is something wrong—"
"Shut up, Spock."
My irritation began to grow and I was forced to smother it firmly.
"Jim. You are exhibiting strange behaviour—"
He slammed his open palm to the side of my face, and I had insufficient time to stop him. The incredibly painful blow sounded like thunder inside my head.
"Come on," he teased, and it was anger I had to fight next, a boiling, heated anger for this ghost of Jim Kirk which had taken over my Captain's sculpted body and did not allow me to see his emotions. This was irrational anger, made more powerful by its lack of discipline.
"Fight me," he said.
I could not refuse.
In two point six seconds he crashed onto the floor, and I let him get back up, only to kick him on the knee with measured accuracy and watch as he fell down yet again. The third time he stood slowly, favouring his right leg, and I waited so that he would regain his balance. Subsequently, he jumped on top of me and hurled us both against the padded surface.
There were beads of sweat rolling down his neck and I observed them with care and detachment, not letting myself fall again, not letting the colours cloud my judgement as had occurred previously. Not letting myself truly see him, because that would lead to a repetition of certain events, certain events which had been halted rather abruptly…
Jim fought with a strange combination of surprising skill and technique in certain moves, and brute force when those did not work. He soon resorted to keeping us scruffling on the floor, for I had less maneuverability and became much more easily distracted if he was all around me; to my faint surprise this tactic worked very efficiently. I had to exert myself much more than anticipated to continue to dominate him.
"Do you give up?" he grunted with a weak attempt at a chuckle, straddling my hips.
I rolled us over until his back impacted the soft floor once more, and did not answer. It was increasingly difficult to block out unwanted thoughts, but I was strong, much stronger than him, and I avoided his glowing eyes and closed my mind to the sounds it picked up.
Suddenly his nails scraped my palm and I tasted blood in my mouth; I had bitten my cheek with excessive strength. Jim used my distraction to flip me over and pin me down again. But he did not strike.
"Will you admit it now?"
"… No."
He laughed, and at that moment I seized his collar in an attempt to dislodge him, but miscalculated the tension of the fabric, and ripped the shirt considerably. Jim was obviously startled, which finally gave the leverage to throw him completely off of me.
"I believe it is time we terminate this exercise," I informed him, needing space, needing time and meditation and control.
"What? But we've only just begun—hey, you're bleeding." His tone changed dramatically when he realized this; and he stood up immediately and came toward me.
"Does it hurt?"
It did not. Pain was nothing compared to having to resist his presence, while that something behind the walls in my mind wanted him, sang out to him, needed…
"No, Captain. As you know, I am able to control neural impulses—"
"Yeah, yeah, you're a tough guy, I get it." Jim reached out a finger to touch me; needless to say such contact was to be avoided, and I stepped back. He sighed. "Just let me take a look," he added stubbornly, and cool fingers inclined my jaw, then slid his thumb between my lips and inspected my mouth with perfect composture.
Perhaps had I been unable to hear his pounding heart and rapid breathing I might have convinced myself this was not a sexual contact in any way.
Sadly, that was not the case.
"You must have bitten your cheek by accident," he said slowly, although he knew that I never would have done such a thing accidentally. "I'll tell Bones to take a look, okay?"
"That is not necessary."
"Yeah it is." He breathed deeply and removed his shredded garment in a swift, practiced move. Easy, as though his shirts were torn every day. "You can go now if you want. It's okay."
He was wrong. I needed to depart. I did not want to. However I must, so I nodded and typed the appropriate code for the door to open.
"Wait," he called, like the desperate word burst out of his chest without his permission, it was so wanton and sad. And that, more than his naked chest, made me stop and turn.
"Hug me?"
No. Not possible.
"There is no logical reason for an embrace at this time."
"There's never a logical reason for it," Jim countered.
"Nevertheless, I wish to depart."
"But… but I need this. Please. Before you go?"
I wanted so much to give in, but I was doing this for him, all for him, protecting him. I could not be his friend now, not if we were to remain thus.
"I am sorry, Captain. I cannot."
Suddenly he cocked his head to the side, tendons in his neck taunt and electric eyes burning with the unsettling light I did not like. "Oh, I see." He blinked. "Okay, you can go."
"Thank you." I began walking away once more, and that was when he said it.
"You can't handle it."
"Excuse me?"
He stretched his arms, pectorals straining and sharply defined. My saliva production increased considerably at the sight, despite the fact that, somehow, I maintained a semblance of calm.
"You're attracted to me and you can't handle too much contact right now. That's fine, I get it." He nodded helpfully toward the door. "You can go."
"No."
"Spock, it's okay. I just said you can leave, it's as good as finally admitting it, we're good. I told you it didn't mean anything, though. No big deal."
"I do not admit—"
"But it's only Human—"
The insult was the final straw. I walked up to him until our noses were almost touching and braced myself.
"All right."
Jim's jaw dropped.
"Do it, Captain."
"Just… just to make this clear, you're asking me to hug you?"
"Yes. Because of your previous request, of course. And to demonstrate how I am unaffected by your physical proximity."
"Wow. I never thought that would actually work. Apparently even Vulcans can't resist reverse psychology."
"Vulcans are unaffected by ancient Earth fancies such as psychol—"
Jim cut off my next words by throwing his arms around my neck. His smell flooded my nostrils; sweat and Human, strong and intoxicating.
He did not let go immediately, however. Instead he moved his body against mine, slowly, tentatively, a caress of arms and legs and hips and chests, his bare torso making the pounding heartbeat louder inside of me, and at that precise moment I chose to remember Bryn V and "I think you're hot," badly lit visions I had caught in Jim's mind when he'd thought about me, about us, because he had said he wanted me, he had begged for me, had he not, for more—?
"Jim!"
Cold, cold air in the space where Jim had been, and a bright red flush in his cheeks. Dr McCoy stood in the doorway, stern, angry gaze trained upon us.
"Hey, Bones…"
"What the hell do you think—?"
"Don't start."
"Don't tell me what to do, you little masochistic idiot!" the doctor snapped. "You skipped the physical, and you're—"
"Spock was just leaving, right Spock?" Jim said tiredly. I had not understood more than fifty percent of their exchange.
"Well, maybe Spock should hear this—"
"No." For a second the flare of light in his eyes disturbed me. "Spock, go. Now. And Bones, you can yell at me another time, all right? I think my shift starts in half an hour and I've got to go shower—"
"You will listen to me for ten minutes first, and then you can take the blasted shower. Spock, get out of here."
I began leaving, clearly this discussion did not pertain me and Dr McCoy was looking distinctly… protective of the Captain, glaring at me with undisguised contempt. I had not known his physical exam was scheduled for this time. Clearly Jim's only purpose in this sparring session had been to miss it, and I was simply one in many candidates.
My breathing was heavy and laboured as I passed the physician.
"You'd better not hurt him again, Spock."
He barely spoke the words loudly enough for my ears, to ensure Jim didn't hear them, I deduced. They cut straight into me, their meaning utterly confusing, for the doctor was implying a previous offense, and all I ever wanted was for Jim to be happy, for Jim to smile and laugh because when he laughed everything simply became brighter and better although of course that notion was impossibly irrational, and yet I knew it to be true.
"Bye, Spock. See you at the bridge for Alpha shift?"
"Yes, Captain."
As I walked away their voices were still audible for some time.
"What are you doing to yourself you stupid, stupid fool?!"
"I'm fine."
"You look like hell. After Alpha shift you're coming in for a full scan, and until I figure out what the hell is wrong with you, stop hugging the damn Vulcan."
"But that makes it better—"
"No it doesn't, it's emotionally self-destructive and it just makes you—"
I could hear no more without stopping and walking back to eavesdrop. And that was unheard of in a Vulcan.
Also, Ensign Rand happened to be walking along the corridor and may have questioned me.
Because this fic was seriously missing a hot gym scene :D
I'm so sorry about the angst bbs, but the plot thickens and with that come certain side-effects… just know that ILU and…
Jim's sweaty naked chest wants you to review? ;)