Author: Caeyle
Rating: PG-13 (either you get it, or you don't)
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS
Category: romance wince
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: K/S: Spock's emotions are surfacing, and he can't control them. Kirk notices and during a game in his quarters, he reveals much more than he had ever meant or hoped to.
Warnings: Very, very, very, very bad characterization. Very. SLASH
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Paramount or whoever owns them, not me.
Kirk folded his hands, studying the chessboard as Spock made his move. When Spock finally moved his knight, he quickly moved a pawn in a seemingly random fashion, then turned his gaze to Spock. "Anything on your mind, Spock?"
"No. Yes. . . what kind of 'thing', Captain?" Spock glanced up from the board, looking startled.
Kirk suppressed a twinge of amusement at Spock's reply. It would have been funny if he hadn't been acting like this for a couple of days, now. Obviously there was something bothering Spock, and he was determined to find out. "I don't know. You seem rather preoccupied lately. Nothing to do with the mission?" He highly doubted that—-they had just picked up everyone on shore leave, and nothing was really happening on the ship.
"No, Captain," Spock answered automatically, tensely—- sounding almost formal. Then he hesitated, on the verge of saying something else and stopping himself just in time.
"What is it? You can tell me, Spock. I'm your friend." He practically felt Spock's shields go up. "No one can overhear you in my quarters." There was no reply. He decided to try a different ploy. "Spock, you lost the last two chess games we played, and you're about to lose this one. If what ever is bothering you is distracting you this much, it could affect your performance on duty." He wondered if he was pushing him too far. "Tell me. That's an order, Mr. Spock."
"I—- " he straightened, face becoming unreadable, looking determinedly past Kirk. "I am. . . in. . . love with. . . someone." Despite his effort to control himself, a faint blush crept up his face, tingeing his face a more visible green.
Kirk felt more than a bit of jealously, and with surprise, he crushed it down. He was not going to fall in love with his first officer, he had decided that the very day he had met him. But—- no. "Oh, is that all?" he said in a carefully light tone. "I'm surprised you would admit to having this illogical, human emotion."
"I am half human." He still refused to meet Kirk's eyes.
"And you think Vulcans don't fall in love? What about your father?" Since Spock had waxed silent again, he continued, "There are two things you could do. You could try to ignore it, or you could try to formulate some type of relationship with this 'someone'."
"I have been trying to ignore it. . . forever." There was a edge of desperation in those half-whispered words, barely surfacing, but there. He looked ready to bolt, like a frightened, cornered animal. Oh, Spock… it's not pon farr, is it? Kirk sighed inwardly; he probably made this worse than it had to be. Spock took a deep breath and composed himself. "What would you do?"
Kirk studied him for a moment with concern before replying. "If it obviously won't go away. . ." He wondered who had affected Spock this way and felt that surge of jealousy again. "I would tell her I loved her and see what happens," or I could kiss you and see what you do. . . "Or you could kiss her and see what she does. . ." Somehow he changed the subject from 'I' to 'you'. This was becoming an extremely uncomfortable conversation. I refuse to fall in love with my first officer. He chanted those words over and over again in his head like a mantra. But even remembering Spock was under his command didn't work. It never had in the first place. He groaned.
Spock stood up quietly and made as to move toward the door, but then turned to face Kirk. Instinctively, Kirk stood up. "Since. . ." Spock's voice was reduced to a whisper, low and hoarse, "it will not go away. . ." Spock, what are you doing? What do you think you're do. . . Spock stepped forward and kissed him.
Kirk groaned as he felt Spock's tongue, fever hot, against his lips and he opened his mouth, arms going around Spock's back, pressing their bodies together. So warm, so hot. . . burning. . . Gods, where did Spock learn how to kiss like that? He felt blood rush toward his groin as he breathed in the light cinnamon-like scent that seemed to fill the room as he tasted the coppery essence of Spock's mouth. Vaguely, he was aware that he was pushing Spock backwards, up against the table, Spock's hands cupping his buttocks, pulling him even closer. The chess pieces were knocked off the table, crashing onto the floor. . . the noise should have been louder except the rushing, reverberating noise in his head drowned it out. . . But nothing mattered, not the game, not the crew, not the Enterprise, only. . . Spock.
Body against body, mouth locked on mouth, hardness pressed against hardness, soul bared to soul. . . "Jim. . ." His name was half-whispered, half-choked, and he wondered how such a harsh sound could sound so sweet, before his heart told him: it was Spock's voice. When he finally opened his eyes, they locked with a pair of dark, dark brown ones. Those eyes, which were supposed to be unreadable, were filled with tears and as much emotion as possible, and more. There was only one thing he could think of to say that was worth saying at the moment:
"Since it will not go away. . ." was that his voice, so raspy? "I love you."
FIN 7/24/02