A/N: Ummm so yeah sorry if this story seems to be...not quite what you might have expected. I think I'll have to change the summary. It's kind of evolving into a whole mini adventure kind of deal. DANG IT I just wanted them to stay on the ship and be happy and angsty and kiss and do stuff but my hand slipped (oops) and now they have to rescue friggin Carol Marcus who somehow ended up in here I don't know anymore I'm sorry.
BUT KEEP READING. DON'T LEAVE ME. I SWEAR THEY'RE STILL IN LOVE THEY JUST DON'T KNOW IT YET BUT WE ALL KNOW I MEAN COME ON REALLY. Cheers. Here's hoping I don't screw up on their adventure because now that it's happening it's gotta be dang good. Next fic is definitely gonna be of the short and fluffy variety.
Bottoms up. Cheerio. Reviews maybe...? Make me happy and motivated to write more? WINK WONK.
edit: Um...so I'm editing this after finishing the chapter. A teensy bit of M-warning ahead. Just a bit. It was totally unplanned sooooooo yeah. Here's your PSA.
Chapter Four
Jim had kept the chess piece. He had meant to leave it in Spock's room, but somehow that had simply not happened. He had stuck his hands in his pockets absently as the Enterprise circled Leonis II lazily, drifting in the planet's orbit, and felt the pieces scraping against his fingers. He rubbed the pieces now, like a lucky charm, as he looked down at Leonis II from the observation deck. It was a small planet, slightly larger than Mercury, and it was purple. Purple and red, tending towards blue where, Jim correctly surmised, the oceans lay. He had seen about three oceans so far in their two hours of orbit and some little ones that he had amused himself with by trying to classify them as either wimpy seas or badass lakes.
Uhura had suggested that they send out transmissions at regular intervals in the hopes that one of the research vessels would eventually respond. Jim doubted that anything of the sort would happen. If the vessels were able to respond, then they would have done so ages ago. Something had gone wrong on the surface. He was completely convinced of this, but had yet to bring it up. If he turned out to be wrong, and he knew he wasn't but if he was, then Spock and Bones would be right about him just jumping in without looking and he'd never live it down. He'd wait one more hour, he told himself. He squeezed the base of the chess piece until his knuckles popped. Just one more hour. And he would bring up the question of sending down a search party.
Pike hadn't explicitly forbidden a landing party, after all. And Jim practically lived in loopholes. He rubbed his side thoughtfully, the bandages itching slightly against his healing ribs. Bones had blown up when he had sidled back in the medbay, grinning apologetically and offering a peace offering of his own body. After about fifteen minutes of noise, the doctor had finally calmed down enough to scan Jim and proclaimed him absolutely useless until his ribs knitted up.
"The more you move around, the longer it'll take," had been the final verdict, accompanied by a gruff poke in the tender area in question. "So sit tight and don't be running any marathons or you'll be down faster than a bee in a typhoon."
One day, he would ask Bones where he had heard half the things he said.
He wondered, very suddenly, if Scotty could...he decided promptly that he had time for a short visit.
He found the engineer wrapped around an intimidating section of piping, the entire upper half of his body completely out of sight. One leg was hooked securely in place while the other dangled and kicked in midair, Gaelic curses ringing down from whatever dark pit Scotty had wiggled into.
Jim jumped as a hissing cloud of steam erupted obnoxiously beside his head and backed away from the offensive vent, scowling. "Scotty!" he called. "Hey!" There was a clang as Scotty undoubtedly smashes his head against something very substantial and a resulting, "Dammit." A wrench unexpectedly sailed down, narrowly missing Jim's right foot by no more than three inches.
Scotty popped down, hanging from the ceiling by a hand and a leg, his head, arms, and torso smeared with a thick black goop. "Oi," he demanded, an indignant whine to his normally agitated tone. "What's the big idea here, eh? Could've smashed you up real good there, Jimmy." He pushed up his goggles as he spoke, squinting. The skin around his eyes seemed blindingly white against the grease covering his face, so that Scotty looked like some bizarre inverted panda.
Jim did not hesitate to inform Scotty of this and the man scowled, climbing down the wall like a monkey and landing with an unappealing splat of goop. "Aye, we've got a few problems down here alright. Pandas ain't the half of it. This fine lady deserves more than we're givin' her, Cap."
"I know, Scotty. But I'll make it worth your while. You know that system upgrade you've been itching for?" Jim lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I found you a deal."
Scotty's panda eyes lit up. "You mean you've-"
"Yeah, I have. And I'll hook you up soon as we're out of this mess. But look here, Scotty. I need you to see if you can fix something for me."
"Jimmy, I can fix anything."
Jim laughed. "Fair enough. All right, here." He held out the pieces of the knight. Scotty squinted, bending over Jim's hand to get a better look. A drop of oil plopped onto Jim's fingers from the engineer's nose. "What's that you've got there?"
"It's a knight. From Spock's chess set."
"Naw, not that big thing he got from his pops?"
"Yeah."
"And ya broke it?"
Jim's shoulders hunched in self-defense. "Well, I didn't. I just-Spock did. But it was my fault. Mostly."
"Huh." Scotty stripped off his greasy gloves and tucked them into his belt. "Well, I'll have me a look at it for ya." He lifted the knight from Jim's hand and Jim felt an odd urge to close his fingers over the pieces protectively. But then they were gone and he thrust his empty hand in his pocket, feeling slightly confused.
"That all you've got for me, Jim?"
"Um, yeah. Yeah, thanks, Scotty. See you around."
He left the engineer to climb back up into the ceiling and wandered the corridors absentmindedly. There was nothing for him to do while they were in orbit and he was desperately, mindnumbingly bored. Uhura was busy sending transmissions, Sulu and Chekov were monitoring their flight. Even Spock was busy in his labs. Jim had been expressly forbidden by Spock from entering the labs, after a particular incident in which he had mistaken growth hormone for potting soil and the specimens had erupted in a massive explosion of greenery. Two months of research he had ruined, and he only wanted to help.
Without knowing, he had wandered down to the botany labs. The walls sealing the room off from the corridor were glass, so that he could see inside without entering. He leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, and observed the interior of the labs.
There were three scientists prowling the rows of tables and racks, and then there was Spock. He was supposed to be supervising, but Jim saw that he had donned a white coat and appeared to be lecturing an intern on the properties of alkaline-based soil or some other rot. The poor girl looked terrified. Jim caught her eye and made ghoulish faces behind Spock's back, smirking when her face began to twitch with suppressed laughter.
Spock paused, then turned with bizarrely good timing to catch Jim in the middle of an especially horrific expression. He uncrossed his eyes and snapped the muscles in his face back in position and offered a sheepish grin. He could feel the pure exasperation in Spock's eyes and it only served to widen his grin.
Spock finally turned away and said something that made the girl erupt into giggles. Jim scowled, his mood souring immediately in a sickly twist of jealousy. Of whom, he couldn't say.
…
Spock found Jim in the observation deck, standing with his back to the door. His silhouette was dark against the glowing violet planet far, far below, shoulders hunched and hands clasped behind his back as he stared down through the glass window. Spock slipped onto the deck quietly and waited.
Jim turned slowly and looked at Spock. He looked older for a moment, and weary. Spock was unable to release the unwavering blue gaze and merely stood, looking back. "Jim" he heard himself say, quietly, and Jim blinked and looked away.
"Spock," he greeted with his usual grin. But there was something diminished about it, Spock now noticed. Something he wouldn't have seen before if he had not observed the other Jim. The faded Jim with the sorrowful eyes.
He forced himself to look down at the PADD in his hand, what he had brought to show Jim in the first place. "The research on Carol Marcus," he explained, proffering the datapad. "She has quite the impressive credentials."
Jim took the PADD and grinned wolfishly. "She's got impressive looks, you mean."
Spock glanced at the image of the young blond woman, unable to summon much interest. Aesthetically speaking, he thought the color of Jim's eyes were by far superior to Carol Marcus. "I have included several items of correspondence between Carol and her father."
"You hacked their personal messages?" Jim sounded more than a little amused. Spock would never understand humans' sense of humor, much less that of Jim Kirk's.
"I thought it...necessary."
Jim snorted and scanned the rest of the datapad, whistling in appreciation. "Our Admiral's daughter's got quite the credentials. I mean, look at her certifications! Scotty would like her."
"Indeed," Spock responded evenly, an unidentifiable feeling flooding his chest. He felt...uncomfortable. He paused, puzzled at this unexpected reaction. Surely it was no business of his that Jim found this Carol Marcus attractive. She did possess several physical characteristics that were well within the bounds of beauty set by the human race, as well as an evident abundance of intelligence.
Therefore, his fixation on the female was perfectly logical. Spock possessed several impressive credentials himself, possibly even more than this Carol Marcus, and while he was inexperienced in the matter, he had once been informed that he was considered aesthetically pleasing to both Vulcans and humans. A slight quirk of his unique genetic makeup, certainly.
He blinked. His thoughts had certainly spiraled off in an unexpected direction. A result of his lack of sleep, no doubt. After the transmission from Admiral Pike, he had been kept busy catching up on duties left unattended while he held command and had not found sufficient time to rest. He considered excusing himself from his next bridge shift, but swiftly extinguished the idea. He had not missed a shift yet, and he did not plan to stop now. "Negligence breeds inefficiency," his father had told him once. "And inefficiency leads to weakness. You must not become weak, Spock." Yes, Father.
"Spock?"
Spock blinked again. "My apologies, Captain. I was...thinking."
Jim eyed him contemplatively, then said, "I've been reading their mail. Looks like our princess here had a tiff with her father a few weeks ago and ran off on a universal road trip. She sent him postcards." Jim sounded slightly awed at the nerve of the Marcus girl. Spock felt another stab of displeasure. "Anyway, judging by the postcard trail, the last place she was at was Sumiko IV."
"The Cliffs of Heaven," Spock recalled. "A popular tourist destination, it appears."
"Exactly. Not far from Station K-6." Jim grinned. "And where the research vessels were dispatched from."
Spock blinked slowly. "I see. She stowed away."
"Probably wanted to see Leonis up and personal. I mean, it's pretty out of the way. Only research vessels would be able to make it up here." Jim turned his head and gazed down at the planet once more. "But something's gone wrong." This last statement was uttered in a murmur, as if not completely intended to be heard.
"I beg your pardon?" Spock asked carefully, wishing to clarify the issue.
Jim glanced at him warily. "Nothing. It's just a...feeling I have."
Spock raised an eyebrow and waited. Sure enough, Jim could not resist such a submissive audience and relented. "I don't think we're going to get any transmissions from the vessels, Spock. Wouldn't they have answered by now? We've practically nuked the atmosphere with signals."
"It is...unusual that we have received no response after 3.3 hours," Spock admitted. He had been thinking much of the same thing himself, but had not yet attempted to convey the thought to Uhura. After the end of their brief romantic involvement several weeks after Nero, Spock had been somewhat wary of Uhura. She did not project a general air of hostility towards him and they were on quite civil speaking terms, indeed bordering on the verge of comfortable friendship, but some primeval masculine instinct had prevented him from breaking the cloud of concentration she had immersed herself in on the bridge.
"Precisely. I think..." Jim hesitated, tongue flicking at the corner of his mouth absently. Spock's eyes darted to the movement, all thoughts of Uhura suddenly and quite completely banished. "I think we need to beam down a search party."
"Your suggestion is...not wholly unpredicted," Spock answered, after a moment of deliberation. "In fact, I am somewhat surprised that you have not yet raised the issue."
Jim looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Well...you made it pretty clear in the medbay what you thought about that."
Ah. He had thought that Jim would remember, much less take it to heart. It was...pleasing to know. Spock struggled with the baffling warmth of the emotion, attempting to contain it behind a wall of cool logic. Jim was the captain, after all. Part of his duties entailed at least occasionally listening to the advice of his First. And while Jim was by no means an ordinary Captain, he must carry out certain responsibilities.
He realized Jim was waiting for some sort of reply and hastily concocted what he hoped would be a suitable response. "Thank...you, I suppose. I was not certain that you had completely understood my intentions."
Jim looked slightly offended. "What, you don't think I can pull my head out of my ass long enough to listen to other people?"
Spock was completely bewildered at this point. "Jim, I find it highly unlikely that your cranium is physically capable of fitting in your rectum, however fascinating the thought may be-"
Jim snorted loudly and folded over, shaking. Spock's first reaction was that of concern. Had Jim somehow managed to injure himself again in the short time he had been left unattended? A squeaky wheeze trailed thinly into the air and Spock then realized that he was laughing. He stood stiffly, uncertain as to what he might have said or done to incur such hilarity. This happened often with Jim, and while Spock found the sound of his laughter...pleasant, he did not often enjoy the state of confusion he was inevitably left in.
"Sorry," Jim gasped, finally managing to get ahold of himself. "It's just-God, Spock, don't ever change."
"What aspect of myself are you referring to?"
Jim gestured vaguely. "That. Everything. Just...don't ever stop making me laugh." Another stray chuckle escaped, crinkling his eyes.
"I did not intend to," Spock responded, truly mystified. "I will admit to possessing some fascination in that particular human function."
"Surely Vulcans laugh sometime."
"I have never heard laughter among my race during my time on the planet," Spock said truthfully. "The concept of the act is considered extremely inappropriate." His mother had laughed often, however. A pang of sorrow stirred faintly in his mind, shuddering through his chest. He shifted his weight slightly, hoping it would resolve the unsettling emotion. He had thought himself to be past the tragedy, but it appeared that he still cultivated a certain grief within.
"Huh. Kind of like farting in public, I guess?"
Spock was beginning to wonder at the depth of Jim's interest in the subject. He found himself saying, "Not at all. Flatuation is a completely natural process and can not be suppressed through any degree of mental discipline. To think of it an inappropriate function is completely illogical."
Jim stared at Spock incredulously, his half-open mouth beginning to curl into a grin. "You're kidding."
Spock merely raised an eyebrow.
Jim's grin was evolving into a full-on gape when his communicator beeped. Casting a final, awestruck glance at Spock, he answered. "Kirk here."
"This is Uhura. We've received a distress signal from an unknown vessel. I think it's one of the research vessels."
Jim gave Spock another incredulous look. "From one of the vessels? Are you sure?"
Uhura's response carried an edge of impatience. "Yes, Captain, I'm sure. It came from the surface and was scrambled beyond belief, but it was definitely a distress signal."
Jim was already striding towards the door, Spock close at his heels. "I'll be right up. We'll need to form and ready a landing party in one hour. I'll need an engineer, maybe two, definitely a scientist-"
Spock reached out and snapped the communicator shut without warning. He had heard enough. "You intend on joining the search party," he stated, almost accusingly. After all Jim had said about listening to Spock's advice, he was planning to endanger himself once more. This was unacceptable.
They were in the turbolift before Jim answered. "I do." That old defiance sizzled behind his words. Spock had no patience left in him for such folly. He reached across Jim and stopped the lift.
"Spock," Jim exclaimed angrily, "what-"
"No."
"W-what do-"
"I think you understand me quite well, Captain." Spock was dimly aware that what he was doing was highly illogical, that Jim was a grown man and fully capable of making his own decisions. Unwise decisions. Decisions that could result in injury or even the unthinkable. And Spock, logic aside, would not let that happen.
Jim's eyes glittered in the harsh light of the turbolift, the blue orbs hardened by righteous anger. Spock had not lowered his arm from the lift controls, barring Jim from muscling past. "Spock. You can't tell me to not go. People are in danger. They could be-"
"You can not know that."
"I can't take that chance! They sent a distress signal, what else could it-"
"You do not know the identity of the individual who transmitted that signal, nor the circumstances in which it was sent."
"Who else could have sent it? You said it yourself, there's practically nothing living there!"
"The fact remains that it is completely unnecessary for you to personally join the search party. You are neither a scientist nor-"
"I'm the captain and I'll go where I damn well please-"
"All the more reason that you should not carelessly invite calamity upon your person!"
"You-I can't just sit up here while men and women could be dying down there!"
"You jump to extreme conclusions without evidence."
"I can't-"
"I?" Spoke spoke softly. Jim was breathing heavily, shaking with suppressed fury. Spock could feel the anger Jim was projecting so strongly, mingling with his own in a curious swirl. And also, mixed in with indignation and rage, fear. Spock stepped forward, bringing them closer. Jim stood his ground, practically bristling. The air seemed to crackle with heavy, silent words. Everything outside the lift was of no relevance compared to the storm brewing in the small space between them. "You seem to believe that this is your responsibility and yours alone. You are mistaken."
"I'm the captain, I have to-"
"Jim."
Jim froze, mouth furiously working in silence. His face had flushed red from the exertion of shouting.
"What are you afraid of?"
Jim spluttered. "I'm not-what are you-"
"I can feel your fear, Jim. Hear it in your voice." Spock's eyes fell on Jim's parted lips and were unable to look away. His own heartrate seemed to be fluctuating alarmingly, a deep thrumming fluttering in his side. "Taste it in the air. You are afraid." The anger and tension in the air melted away, so completely that there was little sign of it ever being present.
Jim reached up, almost unconsciously, and gripped Spock's arm, still extended before his face. Spock blinked at the unexpected contact, but could not pull away. "I am not afraid, Spock," Jim told him quietly. He squeezed Spock's arm reassuringly. "I'll be fine."
"Fine is an unacceptable descriptor," Spock reminded him severely.
Jim gave a soft laugh at that. His fingers suddenly seemed very hot through the fabric of Spock's sleeve. Spock restarted the turbolift and moved his arm down from the wall self-consciously, but Jim, inexplicably, did not let go. Instead, his hand slid down, lightly tracing Spock's forearm, and locked loosely around his wrist. "I'll be careful," he whispered, giving Spock's arm a light squeeze.
Spock found himself leaning forward, mesmerized by the pressure just above his hand, the earnest blue gaze reeling him in. And Jim was not stopping him, was not letting go. A black, yawning hole was spinning into existence in his chest, swallowing all reason and logic and leaving behind only what he had been refusing to see, what he had been unable to comprehend-
The doors slid open and Spock jerked away. Jim's fingers slipped from his wrist and they stood there for a second or two-Spock seemed to have lost all sense of time-searching for a reason and an excuse and finding none.
"The bridge," Spock finally said, very quietly.
"Bridge," Jim agreed, his voice only slightly unsteady, and led the way out. Spock followed, just a step behind. That hole still gnawed at the edges of his being, stirring him in strange and unknown ways and leaving him...unsatisfied. Incomplete. He would not be able to ignore it for long, nor continue to neglect the whirlpool of emotions it had unearthed from the deepest depths of his mind. But for now, he would wait. Jim needed Spock to be there for him, even if he didn't know it himself, and Spock would be there, incomplete or not.
It was, after all, his duty.
...
The final landing party was composed of five security officers, Bones-who had immediately jumped aboard when he heard that Jim would be going, Nurse Chapel, Sulu, three scientists, two of Scotty's wrench-swingers, and Jim himself.
They were suiting up in the transport room when Spock made a sudden appearance, a disturbingly determined glint in his dark eyes. He strode into the room, head swiveling like a periscope on a submarine. A very attractive periscope. On a very sleek and defined-oh shit.
Bones, who had been conveniently shielding Jim from view, bent over to show Chapel how to stow the dermal regenerator, and Jim found himself meeting the searching gaze of a suddenly fixated Vulcan. Jim looked down quickly, doing his best to ignore the sense of impending doom as Spock began to move, and continued stuffing his satchel with supplies. Spock stopped beside him, so close that their shoulders almost brushed. For someone who was supposed to have a strict hands-free zone, Spock seemed to have a terrible sense of personal space.
"Jim," he said quietly. Jim could no longer keep up the act. He picked up a small bag of nuts and dried fruit, hefted it in his hand, and sighed. "Look, Spock, I'm going. I don't ca-"
"I would like to join the party."
Jim dropped the snack bag, alarmed enough to turn and look at his First Officer. Spock merely stared back, expression completely unreadable, and offered no further explanation. "Spock, wait, you can't. You're in command of the-"
"I believe Mr. Sulu is well qualified to hold command in my place," Spock replied dryly. "He is certainly experienced in the area by now."
"But why-"
"If you insist on endangering your life needlessly, Jim, surely you have no right to protest to my own presence on this venture. My reasons are my own." And the Vulcan reached over and began packing his own bag.
Jim spluttered. "B-But. It'll be dangerous, Spock." It was a stupid thing to say, but the only thing he had left in his swiftly diminishing arsenal. After all, he was possibly the least qualified person on the ship to make an argument towards safety.
Spock quirked an eyebrow smoothly. "I assure you, Captain, that danger will not be an issue."
Jim searched for another reason to say "no", found none, and scowled fiercely. "Whatever. Do what you want."
"Aye, sir."
He had never wanted to rip those pointy ears off so bad. But secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, he wasn't completely appalled at the thought of Spock coming along. What had happened in the turbolift had...happened. He didn't know what it meant, or if Spock had felt the same...spark as he had, but something was definitely different between them now. A certain understanding, he supposed. Unable to suppress a grin, he zipped up his satchel and swung it over his shoulder. "I feel like a kiddie on a field trip."
"As our duration of stay is uncertain, it is best to be prepared for all circumstances." Spock said, voice slipping into his lecture mode. "Also, we are unfamiliar with the conditions of the surface and therefore-"
"Captain!"
Jim whirled around, startled at Scotty's shout. The engineer was bent over the transport controls, hands flying over the panels. "We've got an unauthorized transport beaming our way, sir! From the bugging planet!"
Jim shouldered his way through the mass of suddenly clamoring officers, aware of Spock's flowing presence just behind him. He reached Scotty's side just as the man slapped the panel in frustration. "I can't stop it, sir. The package is arriving in six, five-"
"Clear the platform!" Jim bellowed. The two security detail perched on the platform looked startled and all but fell off in their haste to move away. Threads of light appeared, swirling and lengthening and with a flash of light, there was someone standing on the platform.
A rustle of movement and every phaser in the room was locked on the slight figure wavering on bare, bleeding feet.
The transport room was deathly silent.
Carol Marcus pushed back her tangled hair with a shaking hand and said, in a clear and unwavering voice, "I think I'm going to pass out now."
She then promptly toppled off the platform. "Bones," Jim snapped, and the doctor rushed forward, Chapel dragging their medicine bag behind him. "Everyone out! Regroup in six hours." He waved his arm impatiently, shooing out his landing party, and hurried forward.
"Well, I'll be damned," Scotty scowled. "A wee lass hacked my codes." There was a hint of admiration mixed with his thick accent.
"Affirmative," Jim heard Spock say.
"How is she?" he asked anxiously, crouching beside Bones. Carol's blue science officer uniform was torn and filthy, the skin beneath bruised and scraped. She was breathing, he was relieved to see. Something told him that Admiral Marcus would not be pleased if they brought back his daughter's body.
Bones had a tricorder and six hypos clutched in one hand, a seventh clenched between his teeth. "Bnjkfndsk," he mumbled. Jim waited politely until he had dispatched enough hypos to clear his mouth. "She'll be fine. A bit bashed up to be sure, but alive."
"Well, this puts a kink in things."
"You don't say," Bones remarked sarcastically. "What are you planning to do now, Jim? Clearly there's something very wrong down there. You can't go down without knowing an-"
"Carol will tell us when she wakes up, I'm sure." Jim stood. "This doesn't change anything. There are still twenty-three other scientists missing."
"Well, I hope you know what you're getting into," Bones said doubtfully. "This," he gestured at Carol's crumpled form, "doesn't happen to a scientist out on a flower-picking lark."
Jim was about to agree when a low voice spoke by his ear. "Captain."
Jim jumped and scowled. Spock had a walk like a cat's and wasn't afraid to use it. He took a step back involuntarily from the sudden closeness of the man and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "What?"
Spock's eyes scrutinized his face closely, as if searching for the answer to an unasked question. Jim could see a hesitation in his gaze, a gleam of something that might have been curiosity. His mouth opened, perhaps to ask that very question, then shut abruptly. Something seemed to switch off in his face, closing it off completely. "I...apologize. I seem to have forgotten my initial query."
Well, Jim was pretty damn curious now, and that excuse was more bull than he had thought Spock capable of giving. "You have an eidetic memory," he pointed out.
Spock looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It is not a matter of importance."
"So you do remember!" Jim said triumphantly.
"Take this outside, you two," Bones growled irritably. "I've got a stretcher coming in two minutes and you're bugging the hell out of me."
Jim blinked. "Oh." He had almost forgotten where they were, in his excitement over finally catching Spock in a logical error. "Well. Come on, Spock. You can tell me whatever it is outside."
"Captain, I-" Spock was definitely floundering now. Jim grinned. He was going to milk this for all he's got. After all, it would probably never happen again. "Come along, Spock," he teased, leading the way out. He didn't look back, because he knew where Spock would be as surely as he was aware of the location of his right arm.
They ended up back in the empty observation deck. Jim had intended on hashing this out in his quarters, but his curiosity had finally gotten the best of him and he had ducked into the nearest room available. Spock stood behind him now, hands folded primly behind his back, though his face betrayed a slight crease of anxiety between his eyebrows.
"Now. What is it that you so conveniently forgot?"
…
Spock had lost control of the situation. He had not planned on this confrontation happening so quickly, or at all. He did not, in fact, have anything to ask of the captain. He had merely approached him for the sake of speaking to him, being close to him.
Most illogical. And extremely frustrating.
After the...incident in the turbolift, he had been unable to suppress the rising wave of restlessness within him, calling him to some unknown action. It bothered him intensely that his body seemed to be more aware of his needs than his own mind, drawing him closer to Jim that he had ever dared to move before. Calling him with no purpose in mind. Gazing into his eyes just to be fascinated once more by the brilliance behind them.
"What is it, Spock?" Jim asked again.
"I..." I have nothing to say. Spock was floored by the staggering implications of this realization. Never in his life had he been at such a complete loss for words. But the sight of Jim, the presence of Jim, had wiped out everything left within him and he was exposed and bare. There were no words to say, no excuses to give for his irrational behavior. Something wild had seized Spock, some burning, raging urge that could not be contained with something so rigid and fragile as logic and rationality.
Spock lunged forward, completely and utterly void of any form of physical or mental restraint, and seized the front of Jim's shirt. His motion sent them both stumbling, Jim grunting as his back slammed against the wall. Their bodies were pressed flush against each other, chests heaving together. Jim's face gleamed with sweat, bright spots of color in his cheeks. "What the hell, Spock?" he demanded, eyes glittering in shock. Spock leaned forward unconsciously, all too aware of his own heightened heart rate. His heart thrummed in his side, slightly below Jim's own pulse against his skin.
"Spock!" Jim shoved at him, but Spock ignored the blow, sliding his knee between Jim's legs and bringing them even closer together. Why had he not done this before? This is what he had so desperately craved, had longed for, had thirsted for so deeply. But he needed to be closer still, more than touching. He needed to know Jim was his to hold close, to protect, to be so united that they breathed the same air and moved with one heart and one mind and soul until red and green blood mingled together and they were no longer obstructed by something so foolish as separate bodies.
He leaned closer and closer, only half aware that Jim had finally stopped speaking. Had stopped breathing. Their foreheads brushed once, twice, finally pressed together. Jim's skin was hot, it burned with an electric buzz that jolted Spock's mental barriers and made his body tremble. "Spock," Jim breathed, and the sensation of warm air against his skin only stoked the raging fires. Spock glanced down, watched the tip of Jim's tongue flick out unconsciously and wet his...lips. He hesitated, suddenly panicking. What was he doing? This was wrong. He couldn't-shouldn't-
A hand clamped the back of his neck, fingers digging into his flesh. "Damn it, don't stop now," Jim growled, and pulled their mouths together. The kiss was hard and bruising and their teeth scraped together in a sweet burst of pain. Jim's lips were dry and parted, his tongue eagerly forcing its way into Spock's mouth and entangling with his own. Spock was caught off guard by the unexpected complexities of the human kiss, though he attempted valiantly to reciprocate the actions.
To his satisfaction, Jim uttered a deep groan at his efforts and hooked an arm around Spock's neck, deepening the kiss. His need-pure, undiluted, burning-battered at Spock's fluctuating barriers, surging from every point of contact between their bodies, so thick that Spock could taste it on his lips, his tongue. He had to keep Jim out or he would know, know how much Spock wanted him and his mind would break because surely Jim could not want him back with the same intensity. He resolutely kept the barriers up, tried to ignore the tantalizing golden fire burning just barely out of reach and he could reach it if he tried but he would not break Jim-
His fingers fumbled at the base of Jim's shirt, seeking more. Smooth skin under his hands, muscles rolling and tensing and bunching as they sensed Spock's wandering touch. Jim tore his mouth away to take a deep, shuddering breath. "Spock, wait-" His feeble protest hitched into silence as Spock's mouth burned a possessive trail along his jawline, teeth grazing over the fluttering pulse in his neck. Jim tasted of salt and want and Spock could not get enough of it. He felt Jim's hands in his hair, tugging and pushing and the slight burn of discomfort only lent an edge to his desire.
He could hear his own breaths, heavy and irregular and surely he possessed more self-control than this. But if he did then that was then and this was here and now and Jim was rolling forward with his hips in a manner that should be forbidden and a fierce spike of desire was shuddering through their bodies. He tightened his grip on Jim's waist, felt the skin burn beneath his fingertips and a low, pained hiss of air against his neck as he bit down on Jim's collarbone, tongue flicking out to catch tantalizing drops of sweat. His fingers moved higher, brushed against the edge of-
He pulled back sharply from Jim's grip, though his mind keened at the loss and his body was suddenly much colder than its usual temperature. Jim slumped against the wall, panting, looking as lost and confused as Spock felt. "What the hell did you stop for?" he demanded indignantly, face flushed and pupils dilated in a debauched way. Spock tugged his own shirt down with fumbling fingers, trying to smooth his expression but failing. "I-You are injured, Jim."
"What?" Jim glanced down at himself, at the bandages peeking beneath the edge of his pushed-up shirt. He pulled his shirt down self-consciously. "So what?"
"It...was not my intention to...I-I can not risk doing additional damage to your body."
"Are-are you serious? Look, man, you can't just-I need-" Jim cut himself off, looking remarkably embarrassed. "Just get back over here."
"That would be most..." Logical. Desirable."...unwise."
"Oh, come on-"
"I will not be able to hold back."
"I don't give a flying-"
"I do, Jim." Spock reached out tentatively, grasped Jim's wrist in a loose grip. Jim turned his hand and slid their palms together. The rough friction sent stars crackling behind Spock's eyes and he faltered slightly. "J-Jim."
Jim stepped closer, close enough for Spock to wrap an arm around him, and spoke softly into a pointed ear, "Please."
"I-We can not." He could. He could not.
"We can."
"Dr. McCoy-"
"Are you seriously bringing Bones up right now?" A soft shivery laugh gusted across his ear and Spock nearly lost all restraint on the spot. He took a deep breath to steel himself, struggling to ignore Jim's scent, so close and smothering and enthralling, and stepped away. Jim released his hand and they stood before each other, cold and confused. "Look," Jim began, reaching out again.
"I propose that we discuss this at a later time, Jim," Spock said firmly, though not without regret. He still throbbed for him, burned for him, and he was stoutly refusing to confirm the physical evidence of Jim's own desire with his own eyes. "Preferably after the mission."
"You can't leave me hanging like that, man. I can't-look, this may be easy for you-"
"I assure you, Jim," Spock said wearily, "this is by no means easy for me. Your effect on me is most...illogical. It touches me in ways that should be wrong, but I can not think of it as anything but right."
"Then just-"
"Please, Jim. Not now."
Jim's hand dropped to his side and Spock tried not to let his disappointment show. He raised a shaking hand to his own head, smoothed the ruffled strands of hair absently, and tugged his shirt straight. Jim busied himself with repairing his own rumpled appearance, his silence occasionally broken by a dark grumble. It was just his injured pride, Spock knew. He himself was not, no matter what Jim might think, immune to desire. Just standing here together, so soon after they had met in such a hot clash of wills and teeth and flesh, was almost more than he could bear.
But he could bear it, and he would, because what they had between them was more important than Spock's own wants. He felt a certain pride in that, that they could still stand as captain and First Officer and yet be so much more. Jim met his measuring gaze, chin jutting in automatic defiance. "What, you worried I'm going to jump you or something?"
"I was wondering," Spock said evenly, "if you are fully aware of our circumstances. Carol Marcus will awaken at any moment and there is still a mission at hand here."
"Yeah." Jim ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "Yeah, I know." He grunted with displeasure. "But still. You have the worst timing in the world."
Spock lowered his eyes, chastised. "My...apologies, Jim. I..." He searched for a proper explanation fruitlessly and gave a small, one-shouldered shrug in helplessness. "It will not happen again."
A hand unexpectedly wrapped around his elbow, giving a tight squeeze that was not of so much of reassurance as it was a promise. "We will talk about this," Jim said quietly, his face solemn and, for once, completely serious. Spock's willpower faltered slightly before he forced it back under rigid control.
"Yes, Captain," he said, because in the end, that was all he could have ever said.
A/N: Um.
….sweats nervously. WELL THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY. AT LEAST THEY FINALLY FRIGGING KISSED. UGH I'm so disappointed in myself. That last scene was supposed to be like somewhere in the middle of the next chapter after Carol woke up and crap happens and UGHHHHHHH. So I AM SO SORRY if it seemed out of flow and weird and out of place because it was. I just really really really really wanted that scene to happen and I had it prewritten and everything and-rolls on floor in shame-I am so sorry.
But you know you liked it.
REVIEWS? MAYBE? MAKE AN AUTHOR HAPPY? Happy author=happy Spirk times, just sayin'.