Chapter 13.

Spock sat up and stared at the clock. It was nearly eleven but he still couldn't fall asleep. His mind felt uneven for some reason, unrested. A tight knot of nervous anxiety had formed within him, making him feel uneasy, distressed. Something was wrong. He checked his padd, instantly receiving a text from Jim.

"Spock, come over to my house. I need you."

His eyes widened, what happened? Why did he want him to come over? What could have gone wrong this late at night? Instantly a thousand possible unpleasant scenarios flooded his mind. It was our winter break so he had not seen Jim in a few days. Knowing him, though, he likely could have injured himself in a multitude of ways, either on accident or ignorant purpose. Spock pushed them all aside, worrying about it now would accomplish nothing. He could not do anything until he could adequately assess the situation himself and then brace for whatever lay in store. Until then, he only needed to brace for the worst.

He frantically grabbed his first aid kit, his padd, and any other supplies he could think he might need, stuffing it all inside his backpack. He then checked if the lights were out from below and if his parents were still awake. Fortunately, they had fallen asleep hours before, the house was dark and quiet. He then opened his window & snuck out into the night.

Unlike before the house was eerily quiet, with not a single light shining through. He could not hear a single breathing soul; everyone must have been sleeping, well, except for Jim. Deciding it was best not to wake the Kirks and explain it to them, he carefully scaled the back wall and enter Jim's room. He carefully climbed the wooden poles, cautious not to make a sound. He then softly tapped on Jim's window. Jim stared at him, wide-eyed for a second as if seeing a ghost. Then, upon recognising him, he smiled softly, opening the window.

If he had thought Jim's room was messy before it was nothing compared to the chaos that enclosed his room now. The floor was completely buried under two layers of week-old clothing, magazines, food plates, trash, and various stains and spills of contents of which he did not nor want to know the origin. Boxes of stale pizza and empty tubs of ice cream littered the ground, arbitrarily stacked upon one another, threatening to fall. Grease from forgotten pizza dripped from the edges of cardboard boxes. The room reeked of old food stains and sweat and dirt and grime, making him slightly recoil. Tens of hundreds of dirty dishes and cups were stacked across his table and bed and floor, their contents discharged, leaning precariously in various helter-skelter manners, still stained from their contents. Half-finished homework assignments laid astray, undone and unfinished. A dated TV stand stood in the corner, with some old Terran Romantic comedy playing, the volume muted. From the hundreds of DVDs lined beside the stand, it seemed he had been watching plenty of movies.

Jim had returned to sit on his bed. He huddled in the corner under a mass of blankets & pillows, looking more to be an arbitrary pile of blankets than a human being. A mass of sweat, & old clothes & rotting food reeked from under the pile. He let out a faint moan, his head barely peeking from the covers.

"Hey, Spock..." He said weakly, the joy sucked out of his voice.

"Jim, what is wrong?" Spock asked, panic instantly rising in his voice. What had happened to him to leave him in such a state?

"Janice broke up with me..." He moaned, sticking out his head, his face bleary-eyed. If he hadn't looked so pathetic, Spock would have slapped him & left him for texting so urgently about such an unimportant matter.

"Are you serious? I thought something serious had happened." He hissed, cursing himself. Of course, nothing serious had happened. Of course, Jim Kirk of all people would text him about something as insignificant as this and make it seem significant. Of course, he would go without any questions, because he was too much of a fool for him.

"It is serious! I'm suffering from serious sadness right now," He whined, staring at me wide-eyed. He did look pathetically depressed, reminding me of a kicked sehlat. I rolled my eyes, sitting on the edge of his bed.

He then smelled him and recoiled back in disgust, the stench even fouler close to him. "When was the last time you bathed?"

"I don't know...a few days, I guess. I haven't gotten around to it, I kind of forgot."

"You are going to take a shower now," Spock reprimanded, hauling him out from under his pile of blankets.

"Why?!" He whined, placing all his weight against him. He took a deep breath, struggling to haul him out of the bed.

"Because the current state of you is not only unhygienic but frankly, repulsive," He said, throwing him into his bathroom. He rummaged around in his drawers, managing to find one clean outfit of pyjamas and flung it in with him.

"Take a shower now."

"Okay, okay, Mom." Jim said, smiling vaguely, a shadow of what it had been before.

Spock slammed the door on him, sitting awkwardly in his room while he waited for him to shower. After ten minutes or so Jim walked out, drying his hair. "Better?" He asked. Spock nodded, at least he did not smell now. Jim continued drying his hair, still wet from the shower.

"Are you certain you are physically well?"

Even with the shower he still did not look much physically better. He had never seen Jim in such a fragile physical state. Large deep bags underlined his eyes, & his eyes were bloodshot red and puffy, presumably from crying and not sleeping much. He was paler too, the vigour from his skin gone. He also seemed thinner, despite all the various contents of junk food strewn on the ground. A slight stubble had started growing, his face dishevelled. It was more than just his physical appearance, though. His entire demeanour had changed, he had never appeared that sombre before. Even when he had been upset or angry or sad before it had been different because there had been at least a life, a force behind it. Now, he felt like nothing. It was as if all the energy and willpower had been sapped out of him. The fire within him had dimmed, leaving only smoulders of ashes in its glow from him had dissipated, leaving a shell of a person behind. There was no joy behind his eyes, no life, no love, only emptiness. A deep gloom pervaded him, a bleak grey that felt almost suffocating to be around. How could this have happened?

"Wow, thanks for the confidence boost." Jim grabbed a drink on his nightstand, sipping it.

Spock snatched it away. "Hey, what are you doing?" Spock sniffed the contents suspiciously. Inside was a warm, mysterious dark brown liquid.

"It's not what you think, it's just something I make when I'm feeling sad. It used to help me a lot when I was little, though I guess not so much now. You can take a sip if you want."

He sniffed the contents again suspiciously, instantly a sweet almost intoxicating aroma filled his senses. He slowly took a sip, drinking the warm dark liquid. His senses were instantly filled with the warm fragrant aroma, a creaminess and deep richness he did expect ran straight to his core. Whatever the beverage was, it was delicious. He took another sip.

"How can I help you?"

"Well, it's not exactly the sort of thing you can fix, Spock. Just give it time to heal I guess, company helps too." He said, smiling sadly.

"How long has it been since the termination of your relationship?"

"She dumped me five days ago."

"That is a significant amount of time, James."

"This is different, Spock. These things just take time, a lot of time. Probably a lot more than Vulcans need if they ever got in a situation like this. I bet Vulcans don't have to deal with being sad or upset over things like this. You guys have it lucky. Emotions suck. Being human sucks. We're terrible about controlling our emotions and dealing with them. As much as I'd like to, I can't just switch it on and off right now." He complained.

"You would be surprised at the emotionality of Vulcans. We are merely better at controlling it."

"Yeah, I would even take that at the moment. I hate being like this and feeling this terrible. It's okay, though. It'll pass, eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later." Spock took another sip.

"I am sorry I cannot be of aide to you." He looked at the mug; it was empty now.

"You liked it, huh?" He nodded, too tired to argue. He felt strange, his senses suddenly becoming more sensitive yet duller at the same time. An unusual energy had built within him as well, the warmth now having spread all over his chest and torso.

"Here, I'll go make some more for the both of us." He said. He went downstairs and returned with two more mugs, this time topped with white foam.

"It's called whipped cream." He said, handing it to him. He gratefully accepted the drink & took another long sip. Instantly the odd concoction overpowered his senses again, the strange sensation becoming stronger and spreading throughout my body.

"If it is the loss of the relationship that is causing you harm, then wouldn't it be logical to..."

"What? Get back with Janice? No, it wouldn't solve it at this point. It's too late now, and even if it wasn't, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't solve what I'm feeling. It wouldn't work with us even if we did try again, and I don't really want to. And I know she definitely wouldn't want to. She thinks we're better off as friends, if even that. Things just can't go back to before anymore."

"What exactly were the reasons for..." My mind felt fuzzy, the words slipping from my mind. It was becoming harder now to speak in Standard, my vocabulary becoming limited. "... the ending of your relationship?" He managed to sputter.

"Well, I wasn't a very good boyfriend for starters..."

"What constitutes being a good boyfriend?"

"I don't know, showing up for dates on time would have helped, though." He looked so miserable, Spock had the sudden urge to cry because he looked so depressed.

"I can see why that would be helpful."

"And there was other stuff too. I treated her badly, and I regret that part. She deserved better than me, especially at the end. It just wasn't going to work out between us, no matter how much we wanted it too. She just saw it first and decided to call it off before we got any further. I mean, if she hadn't broken up with me I would've probably ended it sooner or later anyway. It just couldn't work."

"Why?"

"I don't know...we had different opinions on certain things and I wasn't willing to compromise on them. And well, she couldn't handle that anymore. So, she dumped me because it wasn't worth the fight anymore."

"I see..." Spock said, his vision suddenly blurring. His cheeks burned with heat, his entire body felt on fire. He suddenly felt nauseous as the world spun around him. Suddenly the world blacked around him as he felt himself falling.

"Alright mister no more drinking for you," Jim said, catching him, gently setting him on the bed. When Spock didn't respond, he began to panic.

"Spock all you all right?! Spock! Shit, did I poison you, oh my God, do we need to call the hospital?"

"I...don't think so, but I don't think it would be wise for me to drink anymore of whatever that was," He said, the spinning slowly dying down, the heat becoming more tolerable.

"Are you sure Spock?" He nodded, still not wanting to move, the disorientation still nauseating.

"What was the substance anyway?"

"It was hot chocolate." His eyes widened.

"Shit, Spock are you going to be okay?"

"Yes...but a warning might have been better beforehand. It has to do with Vulcan physi- physiol-"

"Physiology?" Jim asked. He nodded in gratitude.

"Chocolate, specifically the cacao beans found in chocolate, has intoxicating effects on Vulcans."

Jim's eyes widened. "Are you telling me you're drunk?"

"In human terms, yes," He said. He winced, a pounding headache forming.

Jim smiled and laughed. "Wow, I thought all of you Vulcans were so perfect, who knew they had such an easy weakness?" Spock sat up and glared at him, annoyed.

"Why did you not tell me?" Jim asked.

"Firstly, I did not know if it would affect me since my health is...unique," He said, deciding that focusing on short words would be the most convenient way to speak, his vocabulary still limited. "I also did not know for certain, having only read of the possible effects in books, but I never saw it in person."

"Well, at least you know it's true now."

"Indeed."

He then looked at me curiously. "How does it feel?"

"Awful." He shut his eyes; the pounding headache was only worsening.

"Really? Maybe I should try it too, for science," Jim said, standing.

"I don't think it would be wise for both of us to be inebriated."

"Come on, it'll be fine. We don't have school tomorrow anyway & you're already drunk as a skunk."

"Due to your ignorant poisoning, I might add."

Jim rolled his eyes at him. He then returned from downstairs with a large glass bottle full of mysterious transparent brown liquid and a small glass. He popped off the black lid, instantly filling the room with an overpowering smell of alcohol. He poured himself a glass.

"My dad always says people show their true sides when they're drunk since the filter is gone. Maybe we'll learn a thing or two about each other. It beats being sober and sad, at least this is more fun." And with that, he downed his first shot.

It did not take long for Jim Kirk to become drunk, barely finishing his second shot before he became completely inebriated. He sat on his chair, having lost his coordination enough to stand, falling back into it. He stared at him dizzily, still slightly disoriented. He then began laughing uncontrollably, clearly enjoying the sensation much more than Spock ever did. Perhaps being drunk felt different for humans. Spock rolled his eyes; he would have stopped if not for the fact that he was inadvertently inebriated as well.

"I think it would be wise for you to stop drinking."

"You think?" Jim asked, swaying in his chair. He looked ridiculous. Spock could not help but laugh at the strange ludicrous situation, chuckling before he could stop himself. He then continued laughing, finding he did not care anymore. That only made Jim happier, as he began laughing alongside him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Spock. Being drunk feels great. It's like you're floating on a cloud, without a care in the world. It feels so free!" He exclaimed, spinning in his chair.

He stopped, looking about to puke, swaying unevenly. "Maybe I shouldn't do that." He suddenly stilled, the sadness returning, the dark cloud weighing on his mind.

Spock frowned. "You are still sad,"

"Well yeah, even if I'm drunk, which is still one of the greatest experiences I've ever had, it doesn't change how I feel, really..."

His brows furrowed in anger and confusion. "You should not be."

"Gee, thanks Spock for the great advice."

"I do not understand. You are acting illogically."

"Humans aren't logical, especially about touchy-feely stuff. Despite how much we'd like to be at times." Jim somehow talked even more when he was drunk, despite the seeming impossibility.

"I am confused more than usual about your sadness in this instance...you said the termination of your relationship was mostly mutual?"

"More or less, yeah?"

"And you are also remaining friends?"

"I mean, after a while, probably,"

"Then why are you saddened by such a loss?"

"Well, I guess I miss what we had. We had it pretty great. When it was good, it was really good. The problem was when it was bad; it was really bad. She was also my first real girlfriend, so I've never really dealt with stuff like this before. George says it gets better as you get older and I'll laugh about it later, but it doesn't feel like that right now."

"Yet you do not want to reconcile and get back together with her?"

"No, it's not like that exactly. I mean, I miss what we had, but I don't think we could ever have that again, even if we wanted to. Even if we could, I'm not sure I would want it. For some reason, it never felt right with her. It's nothing she did, it just didn't work out. Do you think it's possible for something to feel good but also wrong at the same time?"

He thought about it for a moment. "...Yes," He decided, after a while.

"I thought at the time I loved her. Because that's what boyfriends are supposed to do, they're supposed to love their girlfriends. But I don't think I ever loved her and she realised that... It wasn't enough for me, and I know that's a really shitty thing to say but...it just couldn't be enough. Something was missing between us."

"So you do not regret breaking up with her?"

"No? I guess not, not really. I still feel guilty for some reason, though. I think I feel bad more about how it ended. In the end, it was pretty ugly between us. I didn't want to make the decision, so I forced her to. I didn't want to see it couldn't work and tried to fight for it even though we both knew it was pointless. It was a pretty big fight too. I never meant to hurt her in any way. She didn't deserve that or me in general."

"She hurt you as well, though."

"Yeah well, that doesn't excuse my behaviour. I wasn't exactly the best towards her, especially during the fight."

"...I am sorry about the circumstances for the termination of your relationship. I also mourn the loss of your relationship. She was very...compatible with you." He finally admitted.

Jim suddenly straightened in his chair, turning to look at him. "Really? I thought you hated her."

"Hate is a human emotion, but no, I did not hate her," He admitted.

"But then why—"

"I was emotionally compromised at the time. I did not like perceiving you in a relationship with her. I thought you deserved better." He said, his cheeks suddenly burning again, though not from the drink. He turned away. Was he out of my mind? Had he just said that out loud? Did he really just admit this?

Jim sat completely upright now. "Spock did you just—"

"I think it is best if we continue this conversation when we are both not inebriated," Spock said, blaming it on the chocolate, though the effects had long worn off.

"Wait, wait, wait...ah, this was getting good, though," Jim pouted, looking even more pathetic and ridiculous in his drunken state.

He stood. "It is late Jim...I have to go home," Jim gripped his arm, his grip surprisingly firm and tight.

"Wait, are you...are you...leaving me?" Jim looked like he was about to cry, his eyes wide and pleading, tears welling up and threatening to burst.

Spock softened slightly, a shadow of a smile crossing his face. "I will see you tomorrow if you would like when you are in a much more sober state of mind." Jim nodded, slowly understanding.

"Thanks for coming...sorry...for...poisoning you..." He blubbered, hiccuping. He then began bawling, sobbing loudly. Spock shook his head, lifting him from his chair and dragging him over and laying him onto his bed. He then forced him to lie down, gently wiping away his tears.

"It is of no consequence. What's done is done." He pulled the bedsheets over him.

"No...I mean...I really mean it..." Jim said, slovenly protesting as he attempted but failed to escape the bedsheets, but was too exhausted and uncoordinated to resist his efforts.

"Sleep, given your current condition you require at least 6.5 hours of rest before you will start to feel sober again." He finally stopped resisting. Suddenly an odd look crossed Jim's face, and he sat up, staring intently at him.

"What is it?"

Jim suddenly grabbed his face, pulling him in, his strength and purpose surprising him. He fell onto his bed, his face dangerously close. He continued staring intently at him, a strange look cast over his face. His face was extremely close to his now, as he began moving closer. His eyes were hazel and wide and alluring, encapsulating him, a strange look of wanting in them. For a moment neither of them said anything, almost afraid to shatter the silence. Jim slowly licked his lips, staring down at his. His lips slowly became closer to his, drawing him in. He could smell his breath, an intoxicating blend of dry whiskey and chocolate.

He continued stroking his cheek, his hands soft and warm. From the shock, Spock's barriers had temporarily broken, and he instantly felt an inflow of thoughts. There was a deep sadness within him that shook him from his core, a pain of longing that was almost unbearable. There was also guilt though, writhing uncontrollably. There was embarrassment, but underneath, softly he could distinctly feel something else. He was too startled to question or even think of what it might be, too occupied by the situation in front of him.

"I just...I just never realised how beautiful you are Spock..." He whispered, his voice low and drawn out, almost afraid to speak. He drew closer. For some reason, Spock found he could not move away.

"You look like a princess!" He suddenly cried gleefully, breaking out in laughter.

He slapped his hand away; a deep heat flushing into his cheeks, angry and embarrassed with himself. Had he forgotten Jim was drunk? He straightened and stepped away. "Good night, Kirk," He said curtly, turning away from him, his face revealing too much even in the darkness.

"Wait..don't go...I'm sorry, Spock. I want you here."

"You know as well as I that I cannot stay. You are not well. You are not yourself." He said, turning away, my voice strained. Who was he reminding, himself or him?

What a fool he was to think he was thinking about anything else, especially in this drunken state. What a fool he was to think he could ever see him like that. He must have been out of his mind. He was out of his mind. Perhaps it was a latent effect of the chocolate not being out of his system yet. Besides, it was clear that Jim was not over Janice by any means. That was the whole reason why he became intoxicated and why Spock came over here in the first place. To think otherwise...no, he would not allow himself that luxury, not here, and not now.

"Fiiine! Good night, Mr Spock." He said, turning to his side.

He stayed in his room until Jim had finally fallen asleep. He checked his forehead, assuring himself that his inebriation had no other physical ailments or complications. Jim slept soundly, peacefully even, as if he had not slept for a long time. Considering the state he was in, that likely could have been true. In the silence & comfort, his solitude Spock allowed himself a faint smile. Here no one could conceive or feel his thoughts. Here, at this moment, he was safe, even if only for a moment. Here he could be himself, unafraid.

"A princess..." He thought to himself. Out of all things he chose a princess to describe him. For a moment he let himself go and let his mind wander. He brushed away a stray hair on his forehead. He looked so gorgeous in the moonlight. If he was a princess, then Jim definitely was a prince, like the old fairy tales his mother used to tell him. He was so close too...as if it was almost a dream.

He stood, disgusted and ashamed with himself, reality crashing into him once more. What was he doing with himself? He was supposed to be gone by now, not staying here and gawking at him in this vulnerable state. The only reason he was like this to begin with was partially his own fault anyway. Jim would not desire him here if he were sober. He should not be taking advantage of this situation, even if he didn't do anything physically to him. This was not his place. This was not a dream or some fantasy. This was reality. He was only his friend, nothing more. They were only friends; he would not let his fantasies delude him any longer. He would not allow the odd events of the night cloud his judgement nor his incapacitated state of mind. Those were the facts and they were irrefutable and unchangeable. They were friends. They could only be friends, nothing more. Jim Kirk had shown again and again that was all that they were. How many times did he have to learn? How many times did he have to tell himself? He needed to leave before he did anything he would regret. He had already made a fool of himself more than enough tonight. He would not make any more mistakes he would come to regret. He did not need to ruin what they had.

He unlocked the window, the break of dawn appearing on the horizon. He turned to look back at him one last time. He truly did look like a prince in his sleep. He then snuck out of the window & returned back home.

Author's Note

Sorry for the late update, crazy life business got in the way and in truth, I was having a sort of block with how to end/finish the story that I wanted to figure out. This was a fun scene of fluff to sort of write. It was very dialogue-heavy which was nice, I honestly like writing dialogue more than narrative/description, it usually just makes the story flow easier and quicker for me. Also, somewhat unrelated but I don't know if drunk as a skunk is a common phrase or not. It is where I'm from but I don't know if that's colloquial. Anyway, thanks for reading & please leave a review!