"Jim. Get your ass up here. We've got a problem."
Startled from his concentration, Kirk popped his head up to look at the box from which Bones' voice had just issued.
Jesus. Why couldn't he ever finish one thing without another crisis brewing?
Ever since he took on the Enterprise, he'd been feeling like he was trapped in a never-ending game of Whack-a-Mole, something he used to play in his town's truly ancient arcade as a kid. Honestly, it was sometimes hard to tell whether he was the one whacking away at the problems or if life was hitting him. It could get overwhelming.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was the captain. He could handle it; after all, he did beat the shit out of those moles eventually.
Reaffirmed, his eyes slid over to Spock, who hadn't paused in his work. The calculations it would take to prep the ship for transport were even trickier than Jim had initially supposed and he was impressed all over again by Spock's secretly devious mind.
Oh, he knew that if he told Spock that he was creative as fuck the Vulcan would protest that he only followed rational lines of thought, but Jim knew better.
He was a computer prodigy and it had taken him some time to infiltrate the Kobayashi Maru and even then, when Spock was just the system's faceless generator, he was awed by the man. Truly, Spock's skill was such that it surpassed mere programming – he was an artist, creating his works on canvases of code.
Jim longed to know all about the emotional core that could render such beautiful, clever works.
One of his greatest frustrations was not knowing if he ever would. It was true that they were getting more comfortable with each other, but he was still so far out of reach. An ice surface hiding the currents underneath. Breath escaped him in a sigh.
"Is something the matter Captain?" Spock asked without looking at him (or so Jim thought since he missed the gleam of dark irises as they darted up from the computer).
"No, not exactly, just thinking about alternatives."
Green hands stilled, as good as a shout of surprise. "Alternatives, sir?"
Why did Spock's voice sound all funny? Squelched almost. Weird.
"Yeah, alternative lifestyles, things I could have done. Whack-a-mole. You know, that sort of thing."
"I see." The hands resumed motion and something in the air relaxed.
Strange, Jim hadn't even noticed the tension until it was gone. Yet another thing to look into he supposed.
Spock spoke again, voice now regular, if not downright teasing. "While I too carefully consider all options open to me, the 'whacking' of moles has yet to appear as a viable course Captain."
Was it ridiculous that Jim was finding the way his First Officer's mouth stretched over the world "Captain" hotter and hotter every time he said it? And that he was already thinking up ways to get Spock to say "whack" again?
It was official; he was destined for dirty-minded hell.
"Oh, I don't know about that Mr. Spock. Whacking has a certain therapeutic quality, don't you agree?"
A face carefully blank of all comprehension greeted his assertion. Jim almost winced at the statue who had replaced his First.
"You know what, never mind. I'm going to go deal with whatever Bones' freak-show is. Coming?"
Oh god, twice in less than a minute. Even when he was trying to be good. What was he, twelve?
If he had been human, Spock's eyes would have rolled. As it was, he was Vulcan, so they just sort of twitched upward instead.
He stood smoothly, and stepped to the door, saying in passing, "I suppose I shall accompany you, since left to your own devices, you would likely, as Terrans say, find a way to blow everything."
Kirk's brain fried and rebooted in the space of a heartbeat. A dirty joke? From Mr. I-Am-Vulcan?
Granted, a kind of lame one, but still...sexy. Fuck yeah, he longed to get under that hard-lacquered exterior. It was becoming almost ridiculous how much he thought about it.
Jim started out after Spock, who was already out in the corridor.
"Hey, I am selective with my blowing, thank you very much. Not just anything deserves to be screwed royally."
Spock didn't even acknowledge that he heard his captain, but he did slow his pace so that Jim could catch up to him.
A passing yeoman eyed them suspiciously. There was always crew talk about that screaming sexual tension which followed them around, though funnily enough, they both seemed oblivious to it. THe gossip and the tension that is.
Hmmm...Maybe they weren't so oblivious as they seemed, if they were discussing sexual terms when in the captain's private quarters.
She thought about it and decided to quickly contact her betting pool. She was so upping her ante on them getting together.
A wicked smile broke across her lips. All the better to rub it in that insufferable Rand's face, when she finally saw that the captain would never be hers.
No matter if he complimented her sheet tucking skills that one time. Or noticed her new hair do. For Christ's sake her head looked like a basket, anyone would notice.
Sheesh, that was hardly a declaration of love anyway.
The yeoman continued on, full of anticipation for sharing her latest findings.
Unaware of their assessment and subsequent causal of a sharp spike in the exchange of betting pool credits, Jim and Spock hurried up to Med Bay, where Bones and the latest calamity waited impatiently.
I often times ask myself what other subjects Enterprisians would bet on, other than Jim and Spock. Perhaps Sulu and Checkov? Jim's likelihood of getting hurt? Bones' likelihood of killing him first?
What do you think? I'd love to hear in your review. :)
P.S. , sorry for so long between updates, school has been busier than I expected. Thank you for reading and sticking with me!