Poker Face

AN: Second piece inspired by "Poker Face" by Lady GaGa.

Disclaimer: Plot is mine, not the characters and the song belongs to Lady Gaga and associates!

Rating: T for language

It always felt as if he held all the cards, all the winning cards, though no one could be sure there could be a winner or a loser here. In spite of not knowing the rules of the game, he always seemed to play him so well, and that drove Jim out of his right mind.

Falling on luck and intuition, he knew he was hit with an offense, subtle and indirect, but it hit him, hard, and he was falling under. The final blow would be one hell of a bitch and he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it.

Every part of his body burned, craving and he couldn't think about anything else, but he couldn't help but be daunted. In the face of something too placid, too composed, he faltered and hesitated. He had always reveled in knowing all the triggers, the tells and the weaknesses; it was how this was supposed to work. That's how he worked. But he couldn't see through that face, that poker face. And it stopped him.

Jim couldn't even be sure if he was interested, if this was a bluff, a well-played move, a way to raise the stakes and before he could fold, to take everything just prove to everyone that Jim wasn't as in control as he thought he was. If he fell, he would fall hard. That would be exactly what that haughty half-Vulcan would want.

But a gamble always paid out better in the end and Jim couldn't help but smile and go all in, because you could never get what you don't give. It was dangerous, thrilling, a game of Russian Roulette with five bullets in the chamber, and the risk was something he couldn't avoid. The adrenaline rush burst through his veins, a rough ride, but always the best.

His skin was on fire, flushed, heated, aching. His eyes glittered with lust. His stomach knotted in anticipation.

Still he couldn't read that face, and for every card that was played, he was further in the dark, unable to read the signs. Jim studied him for the tells, but he was never able to get any ground. He was blind here, and he became more obsessed with winning the game. No one else mattered, just the two of them and he needed to see if he could pull the luck to win this.

Spock seemed to read him easily, something that was hard for Jim to comprehend. He had always been the one that couldn't be read. The tables turning on him dragged him out of his element and only laid him further open. He tried to hide behind his poker face, but it was nowhere as good as Spock's and he could almost go insane knowing his intentions were out on the table, where Spock's motives were still a secret.

But Spock didn't have to love him, he had Uhura, he had so many options, where Jim only had him. He had never met someone who didn't fall apart in his hands, someone so obstinate and strong, indifferent and composed and the challenge made him want the victory all the more. But Jim could very well lose this battle with the odds against him.

There were his faults standing against him at the table, his brash, sometimes utterly thoughtless behavior, his reliance on instinct and downright bat-shit crazy ingenuity, his flirtatious, in-your-face, do-what-thou-wilt attitude that must be listed in a book of Vulcan turn-offs. He was almost sure "James Tiberius Kirk" was listed as the exact opposite of what a Vulcan looked for in a person.

God, thinking about it, if he sat down to think of it, if he were Spock, he wouldn't want to live with himself.

Spock didn't have to love him, and the fact he wanted no one else drove him crazy.

Every little battle he won, every short step to a stable friendship, Spock seemed to look at him with a look in his eyes that told him to get out before he bet everything, to take what he's earned before everything gets taken away. But he couldn't stop from playing the table, going one further, and where he should fold, he took a hit and fell back on sheer luck to play the right cards and win the round to test his luck the next hand.

The stress was giving him headaches, but the payouts were invaluable. The more time he spent with Spock the easier it would get to slowly pick up the cracks in his poker face and he was going to keep playing until he won or was decimated.

He still couldn't see through that poker face of his, but Jim was close. He smiled to himself and got ready for the next hand and he saw the bluff and won another round.

Spock wouldn't kiss or hold him, but the very equivalent was in those eyes, a deep brown, warm, not black like they usually were. He broke through that veneer and couldn't hide the smirk on his face. If they weren't still on the bridge.

But they were.

So he hid behind his own poker face and faced the viewer.