Note: I'm starting to have the feeling you can read my mind LP...hmmm...
They simply stayed like that. Jim didn't know for how long. Seconds, minutes, hours, he couldn't tell. He didn't really care either. His legs had gone partially numb from staying in the same arrangement for an extended period and he also knew his back would have a kink afterwards for being in a slightly awkward position. But still, he didn't really mind. It was warm. It was secure. It was what he needed, and somehow Spock had picked up on that too.
And so they just sat.
They would likely have continued for who knows how long as well, if the command for Spock's quarters hadn't sounded, making the both of them jump. Jim looked up, over Spock's shoulder where his head had been lying, and almost glared at the door. He felt the arms around him being withdrawn, and already he missed the comforting heat. There was a pressure against his shoulders and he was softly pushed backwards, his own arms sliding away. Jim looked up into a black-brown gaze and sat there, shoulders slumped, just looking up into the dark orbs. They both stared at each other, human and Vulcan, understanding somehow existing within the moment. The command came again. Spock broke the gaze, and rose fluidly, moving across the room to open the door.
Jim let his arms drop to the sides of his legs, hands resting flat against the bed. He could have moved before the door had opened. Could have hidden himself away to stop whoever was behind it from seeing him, and easily jumping to conclusions- which they would. He could have more than likely....
...but he just couldn't seem to find the effort. It seemed like everything had just gone out of him in seconds. Like the wind had gone from a boat's sails. The turbulent roller coaster of emotions inside him was settling down and to be completely honest with himself, he was starting to feel tired again. His last attempt at sleep hadn't exactly been the nicest of experiences and he didn't think that it had done much to relieve his sleep deprived body. He may have to go find Bones for something to put him out. He breathed out a heavy sigh. That would be fun.
So instead he sat, his gaze projected downwards, fixed onto the deep blue carpeted floor as the familiar whoosh of an opening door filled the inside area. Light filtered into the dimly lit room as he heard a young and cheerful voice speak.
"Ah, Sir, you are here!"
It was Chekov. Jim instantly started to wish he had in fact moved. That seventeen year old, despite being a certified genius was one of the top contributors to the rumour mill on the entire ship. Jim didn't really mind though and simply overlooked it on numerous occasions.
Everyone had their hobbies after all.
"Evidently," he heard Spock reply, his voice about as exuberant as a train wreck.
Jim snorted quietly at the slight lilt and stress that his First Officer placed upon the word. He found it weird that so many people couldn't seem to pick up those slight indications which were placed into the Vulcan's words at times. It all but jumped out at him now after actually having to spend time with guy with conferencing and everything for missions. He was now pretty certain he could differ between his neutral mode and not-so neutral mode. Currently, Spock was throwing out 'sarcastic vibes', a fact which the ensign somehow didn't seem realise however, as Jim heard the Russian intonated voice continue just as happily and sounding not even the slightest bit offended.
"It is indeed Sir!" Chekov said brightly. "I brought you back the article which you gave me to read. The one on the warp collision factors?"
"Indeed?"
"Oh, yes, Sir! It truly is a fascinating topic. A very interesting idea about increasing the capacity of the terminal equilibrium between the two corresponding conjunctions within the primary reference unit which would be able to consequently expand the number of possibilities concer-"
"You are aware of the fact that it is only currently 1700 hours?"
This seemed to make Chekov pause and maybe time to actually breathe, before he started to talk again.
Jim saw the ensign shuffle on his feet awkwardly. "Ah well, you see Sir." he stuttered. "I just got off from the late shift, Sir, and I thought that I would just drop it off for you as you yourself, Sir, only just finished and-"
"I left the bridge and my shift just over five hours ago, Ensign Chekov."
Five hours?
Seriously?
How long had he been asleep for in here exactly? More importantly, for how long had Spock not slept so that he could?
It was not a comforting thought.
"Oh, I'm sorry Sir, I must have lost track of time, I am sorry, I-"Chekov's stuttered words suddenly stopped.
Jim wondered if Spock had decided to strangle him.
It wasn't a nice thought in any sense, but one which would explain the abrupt silence. The lack of gasping and struggling however seemed to disagree with that idea however. He frowned. Perhaps Spock had nerve pinched him? Hmm...yes, that would work.
He was in a rather morbid mood today...
"....Captain?"
Oh well, no strangulation or nerve pinches then- just the captain. There was a silence during which Jim's brain decided to click back into action.
Oh right, that was him.
He looked up into both a faintly worried expression and a very confused one. He stuck a hand into the air, smiling tiredly as he waved it at the door and at Chekov's light brown eyes which were now peering around his First's blue clad shoulder. "Hey Chekov, how you going?"
The brown eyes got wider. "I am fine Captain. What are you-"
Spock cut him off, moving in front of the door to more effectively block Chekov's view of the room and, Jim had an inkling, he himself as well. He felt a rush of gratitude. He did like the kid; he really liked him a lot. Hell, he would be dead and Sulu as well for that matter, if it wasn't for him. That's not counting the many times that he had gotten the Enterprise out of almost perpetual doom and saved it's ass way to many times for it to be natural. Yeah, he definitely liked the kid. Definitely. However the exuberance and happiness that the guy constantly radiated just wouldn't work for him today because he himself felt about as lively as a wet mop.
Gosh, he felt bad just thinking it though and instantly sent a mental apology toward the kid.
"I believe you had a primary goal in visiting my quarters Ensign?"
Chekov's wide eyes flew back to the stoic looking Vulcan who was staring at him impassively. There was a silence during which, Jim guessed, some sort of an exchange took place. He sighed, stretching his arms out either side of him and then closed his eyes. Jim let gravity take him, and he fell backwards onto his back with a whump. He really should go back to his own quarters. He'd bugged Spock enough; breaking into his room, falling asleep in said room, going through his stuff etc etc...
Man, he really was the typical Goldilocks wasn't he?
He heard voices which were now muted, and then a whoosh again as Spock closed the door. He hadn't looked, but he knew that Chekov would have tried to grab a final look at him, before it did so, a more than hopeless act when you had a much taller and very imposing Vulcan standing in front of you who should constantly have a neon sign hung around his neck that said 'don't mess with me' because the message was always to blatantly obvious in his posture. That silent memorandum had stopped countless jokes of Jim's towards the guy on a daily basis.
He smiled and opened his eyes to a much darker room. He could just make out Spock's figure as it moved toward the desk in the far corner, open a drawer and placed what Jim presumed was the PADD that Chekov had given him, in it. He seemed to pause for a moment and then he was opening another drawer and taking something from it.
"Thank you" Jim said simply and quietly, watching him, knowing that Spock would hear and know what particular incident he was talking about without having to tell him.
"Such a sentiment is not needed. I understand that physical contact is sometimes part of the comforting process when humans are emotionally distraught." Spock replied, turning around, his back against the desk, hands holding something.
Jim snorted. "Gee, way to make me feel like a nut case with emotional problems, man."
Spock's eyebrows twitched upwards. "I did not intend the statement to be derogatory in any way, Jim. I was simply stating a need which seems to occur within all humans at some time, regardless of age, gender or character."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Jim looked up and smiled. He watched as Spock moved toward him, noticing in the process that the object in his hands was becoming more rectangle shaped and distinctly more book like.
Jim's heart plummeted and he shot up from lying down.
"I believe you were reading this." Spock said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward at the reaction. He sat at Jim's side and handed him the item, who in turn took it, and looked down at the green cover. Jim felt his face warm. "I relinquished it from you before as you were bending the pages while you were sleeping."
Jim looked up into a curious expression, embarrassed. "I, uh, saw it in here a few days ago" he explained, swallowing. "I just...wanted to see what it was like."
He stared back down at the worn Bible which was now settled in his hands. He took hold of it by the stiff covers and flipped through it from one end, the pages flittering and falling until they all lay silent again at the other. "Sorry," he added just for good measure.
"What was your conclusion?"
Jim, not at all expecting the question or its abruptness looked up, confused. "What?"
"What was your decision on the subject of the text based upon your observation?"
Spock was looking at him intently, his dark eyes seeming to scrutinise Jim's face for any reaction. Gosh, he did that a lot, Jim thought. He was pretty sure the guy didn't know it made him feel uncomfortable, but hell, it sure did. It made him feel like he needed to walk on egg shells around him constantly. Usually when people looked at him like that, the general reflex was to put on a cocky kind of an air and just cruise with it. When Spock looked at him however, he seriously didn't have a clue what to do. He brain just shut down.
It was frustrating sometimes, let alone annoying.
"Uh..."Jim blinked, put off slightly by the intensity of the gaze. He also didn't really know how to answer the question. For one, he was still surprised Spock hadn't invoked his right to say 'don't touch my stuff' and kick him from the room, and two....
...well two; he didn't actually have an answer as he had only read a few pages of the book.
"I ...don't really know Spock" he said finally, stammering slightly, unsure as to what response he should give- a book review on the Bible? Religion had never really been at the top of the list of things to talk about with his First Officer so he was kind of in uncharted waters here. Warp drives- meh, security tactical manoeuvres- easy, personnel files- piece of cake, religion...
...hmmm...
"A very intelligent answer Jim."
Oh, thanks. Wait...what?
Was that sarcasm?
"Huh?" he looked up defensively, quite annoyed that Spock had thought he would actually be able to hold an intellectual discussion on something that Jim hardly knew anything about. His response was rather vague, he admitted that, but despite that it was still one that was truthful.
His irritated nerves fell flat on their face however when he saw the sincerity ingrained into every aspect of Spock's face. His expression turned confused. "Are you for real?"
Spock raised an eyebrow at this. "Though many would no doubt dispute this, in my personal opinion, the Bible is not able to have any decisive opinion put upon it. If this occurs the words lose their vitality and pure uniqueness. There must always be, within our minds, a land of the unknown. If this were not so, then what would spur us to go forward in search of answers and uncover it?" he asked. "With certainty may come security, though following behind that can easily come inactivity."
Jim blinked.
"...oh," he settled on finally, looking down at the green crinkled book and running his hand across it. He frowned thinking over the words. "Well, thanks I guess."
"It was merely an observation."
Jim chuckled quietly. "Reason, observation, and experience; the holy trinity of science," he said chuckling again. "That's pretty much you in a nut shell Spock."
Spock looked at him curiously.
"It's a quote" he explained, shrugging. "Can't remember who from exactly."
"I see."
A silence fell, but it was by no means uncomfortable as Jim would have thought. He really had to stop casting aspersions on everything, it really wasn't healthy. Think positive Jim, he told himself, don't be a hypochondriac. He looked up, moving his eyes over the unfamiliar features of the room. He really should be getting back to his own and to get some sleep he thought, sighing. And allow Spock to get some rest of his own, he couldn't forget that. He still felt bad about it. Jim could just imagine the expression on his face when he had walked into the room, however long ago it was, and saw him there....
He didn't suppose there were security cameras in the quarters?
He pushed that thought away as two stupid to even comprehend and turn to the side, his intent to bid his first officer farewell, though not wanting to truly go.
He looked up and the words all but died on his lips as he saw that the Vulcan was gazing at him and seemed strangely uncertain about something. Jim looked at him questionably tilting his head slightly. Spock seemed to take this as a 'go ahead' signal.
"You may decline to answer if you wish... "Jim's expression turned expectant. "...but what was the primary need behind your previous action?" Spock asked, looking at him closely. Jim's eyebrows rose.
"You mean hugging you and all?" Spock nodded and Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just needed the warmth," he said, the memory of Spock's heart beating against his side coming back to him as he did so. He instantly felt warm and relished in the feeling. He didn't realise just how cryptic and kind of stupid the remark was until Spock actually replied to it.
"That is why Starfleet has thermostat temperature settings installed to each room, Jim."
The statement was so sincere that he couldn't help but laugh. "No Spock," he said, looking over at the Vulcan and shaking his head. Spock's eyebrows rose at his dismissal and the corners of his mouth turned down ever so slightly in a sign of confusion.
"What else can your comment imply?"
Jim moved to lean against the head rest of the bed, bending a leg in front of him onto the mattress and letting his body relax, resting the Bible in his lap. He then stared at Spock intently. "I didn't mean that I needed just physical warmth," he said, waving his hands in a 'so and so' gesture at Spock. "I meant I needed the life that came with it."
Spock stilled and tilted his head slightly. "I am uncertain as to your meaning."
Jim sighed. How could he put this for a logical guy as was his First Officer?
He breathed in, an idea forming in his mind and leant forward slightly. "Ok, well, I don't like the cold, you know that, right?" Spock inclined his head. "Yeah, well try to imagine me walking into an absolutely freezing cold, and I mean freezing cold, room which didn't hold any source of heat whatsoever. Nothing, nada...," he said slicing his hand through the space between them. "What happens?"
Though the answer was as about as obvious as fluoro coloured clothing, Jim shuddered,why not do a bit of Q and A while they were at it anyway?
"Since you are the only object emitting heat from the surface of your skin this makes you significantly warmer than the room, a fact which is already known to us however. This means that, in all likelihood and unless prevented, the heat energy inside your body will be transferred to the room, as your body attempts to uselessly heat it, in such the same way as when an object you hold becomes warmer as your body temperature is transferred to make the object the same as your body's homeostatic environment. You will get progressively colder and if you were present in such an environment for an extended period you may likely suffer medical conditions known commonly as frostbite or -"
"I would have settled for 'you get cold'." Jim said, jumping in before dust started to collect, and looked at him strangely trying not to smile.
Spock stopped and blinked at him, mouth slightly open and looking just the least put out, his eyes flicking down to the hoplessly restrained smile and then back up again. Jim watched this with amusement. He had never seen his First Officer speechless before. It was pretty funny actually. No one had probably cut him off before though. People were usually too busy going 'huh' - styled nicely as a question, and waiting for their mind to catch up with his.
He waited silently and patiently as the Vulcan rearranged his features into something more...well, more Vulcan like, until speaking again.
"Not that I don't appreciate the lecture and all."
An eyebrow quirked upwards. "You may continue Jim."
Jim=1 / Spock=0
He grinned.
"Fine," he said, and then almost instantly stopped, his mouth slightly open for the words which never came. Shouldn't he be just a tad bit more unconformable with the idea of spilling his guts to the Vulcan? Shouldn't he? Shouldn't he!?
Jim closed his mouth and frowned, and then stared down at the little book in his hands. Stared and stared and stared, as if somehow it would give him an answer.
Ah, what the heck.
He breathed in, turning his face to look again at his silent listener. "Now replace that cold with the oh so depressing idea of death..." he continued rather hurridly. He quickly looked down to examine his hands...
But not before he saw Spoke become incredibly still.
"...and now imagine that same effect occurring, the way that the cold sucks away heat, but with death seeming to suck away the life, the warmth."
He knew he didn't have to provide a more detailed explanation for what brought this sort of thinking on. Spock had seen vid links of the ritual rooms. The only difference was that he only knew what it looked like, not felt, which was, if anything, much stronger than the visual stimulus.
"So do you kind of get it?" he asked, almost talking to himself now, his gaze locked intently onto the blue blanket he was sitting on. "Do you see what I mean when I say I needed the life?"
It was then, when no reply came, that he realised that Spock hadn't said anything for quite awhile and he looked up confused and maybe a slightly bit worried. Spock was staring at him, gaze soft, something almost like sorrow flitting behind the eyes. Jim leaned forward, concerned, his hand instinctively reaching out before he could stop it."Spock?"
"I believe I do Jim," came the reply, almost husky, and now he could make out that it was defiantly sorrow in those eyes. Jim dropped his hand. There was no mistaking it. He frowned, wondering what was invoking such a response in his otherwise neutral Vulcan.
As if somehow realising that he was emoting, Spock averted his gaze, before breathing in and speaking once again. "Though she may have had a cooler body temperature than my own physically, my mother also seemed to burn with an unsurpassed fire and passion through our link." He looked back up and the dark gaze was wet from the slight moisture that seemed to be now present there. Jim stopped, shocked. "Such heat and warmth I had always believed to be the core representation of her katra, her life."
Jim stared...
...and stared.
He didn't know what to say. Damnit he really didn't. He had always been uncomfortable with the whole emotional scene, a big factor into why he usually adamantly avoided the- because he never knew exactly what to do. He had the bad habit of making up really bad jokes to break the tense atmosphere and that just seemed to make everything worse. He hardly ever went to funerals, going to great lengths to say his last farewells to the deceased prior to the time when they were actually buried.
It also took a long time for someone to crack his own defences to actually get to the emotional reality inside him as well. It usually required either a hell of a lot of booze or a pretty horrific event, at which point Bones then came into action, listening to his sorry-ass self talk about emotions and crap and usually adding his own thoughts to the scene- usually something concerning Joanna, his daughter, or his estranged wife, because at that point he also would be completely drunk alongside Jim.
But this was Spock, which funnily enough and without consciously thinking it, meant that he wasn't going to go get drunk and he wasn't just going to walk out either.
And so, putting bad jokes aside- because it really wasn't the time- Jim went with his gut instinct instead, wiping the disbelieving expression of his face, and succumbing to the feeling. It seemed to always do him good when he was in other situations that he had no clue about, so why not now?
His gut instinct was telling him to simply comfort Spock.
And so that's what he did.
Feeling the roles being distinctly emotionally reversed from before, Jim's arms reached out and encircled his friend, one supporting Spock's back and holding his waist and one crossing over the Vulcan's chest to hold his warm shoulder. He paid no attention to the bible as it fell to the ground from his legs, landing with a thunk, and laying open at a random page. He drew Spock to him, lifting his chin to tuck the dark haired head against his front. He could feel slight tremors shifting through the warm body and he pulled his arms tighter, closing his eyes and breathing out a sigh, making a few dark strands of hair flutter, before they settled politely back into place. Pale hands were balled tightly in his black shirt, twisting the material into a dismal array of creases and lines, probably a visual representation of Spock's own inner turmoil.
Spock never talked about this sort of stuff with him. Never. It just wasn't what happened. They had really only known each other for a few months; four at the most and maybe even less for all he knew- time seemed to become disjointed on a starship after awhile. For quite a lot of people that would normally have been enough time to discern whether someone was their friend or not. Normally. However, Spock really was one convoluted son of a bitch and definitely not normal. He couldn't just be one straight road, oh no. His friendly neighbourhood Vulcan had to be an interweaving complex of multiple roads combined with intersections, dead ends and traffic lights telling you when you could go and not.
And road blocks- a hell of a lot of road blocks.
Such a thing made it really kind of hard then when you tried to figure the guy out, which was in turn made even harder while he was speaking elaborately intricate sentences that made you wonder when your brain would melt from the overload.
He couldn't blame their current, sometimes clumsy- is it going to be awkward if I do or say this- relationship all on Spock though. Jim himself, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, was just about as tight lipped as his first officer concerning certain things. He may come across as the talkative, say whatever kind of guy, but with all things said and done, you just would not be able to get him to talk about certain subjects- period.
Unless of course a lot of afore mentioned drinking was involved.
But since when did Spock drink?
So then, in all reality, if you put the two of them together, in a room, with absolutely no intoxicating substances within sight, and tried to get them to be all touchy and feely about themselves, nothing too spectacular was really going to happen. The reason being that they were both as bad as each other sometimes, he thought.
Jim paused.
Then again, he could get touchy if pushed...
...but something was telling him he really didn't want to get strangled again either.
It was strange then, how all those barriers between the two of them seemed to have been completely wiped without him realising it and all within a matter of hours. He could easily blame it on his sleep deprived and emotionally turbulent mind doing mental back flips and circus acts on him, making him do weird and somewhat eccentric things such as crossing through Spock's personal –do not touch or die- bubble to hug him, and pushing and prodding the Vulcan until he relented. He could place the blame there, leave the room to go back to his own and move on and forget about this whole thing. Yes, he could...
...but did he want to?