Ch 8: Express Yourself

The door closed behind Spock as he arrived into his room. He doubled over in an attempt to steady his breath and heartbeat, but to no avail. He found himself not only breathless and flustered, but shaken to the point where he actually trembled. How could such a drastic emotional response be elicited from him again? While the mind meld proved to be a great emotional strain, he had thought he had recovered from it fully during his time at the Vulcan colony…at least until he saw Kirk again.

He pondered the mystery of his presence in Kirk's quarters; what possessed him to go there when it was obvious the Captain wasn't aboard the ship? He recalled dropping his belongings into his quarters, and then making his way to Kirk's quarters with his data pad. After reading so much of the Romantic poetry from the book Prime gave him, he wanted to write some of his own. Though he still couldn't recall his reasoning for going there of all places to write poetry, he found himself inspired to write freely while he was there.

All had been going well until he saw Kirk. It was possible that he had been so immersed in letting his emotions flow into the words he entered on his data pad, he didn't draw them back in enough to control himself fully. In addition, Kirk's sudden appearance immediately reminded Spock of some of the things he was attracted to about the man. Everything about him seemed to change with his surroundings. His eye color could range anywhere between an icy, crystalline blue and a deep ocean blue. His hair was a deep brown at some times and sandy blond at others. Those deliciously soft lips could easily pull back and reveal a sparkling smile or could turn downwards into an angry scowl. Kirk had so much freedom and flexibility with his facial features that Spock found himself rather envious of the man.

As a Vulcan, even only a half Vulcan, his appearance was dictated from the day he was born: jet black hair, shortly cut in a very bland orderly fashion. Deep, dark eyes that masked any emotions that might be brewing beneath the surface. Tight, pursed lips that rarely, if ever moved in any direction, either up or down. His ears. His horribly pointed ears. Those ears were a source of much teasing when he entered Starfleet Academy; apparently he was considered the freak of all the races – having a mostly human appearance save those noticeably pointed ears that hailed back to his true lineage.

He longed to be human and envied all those that were fully and truly human. He longed to have the freedom to smile, frown, laugh, or cry; to not be bound by logic and control. Humans never really knew just how lucky they were to be what they were. The luckiest of those humans that he knew was Kirk. Of all the humans he had ever met, he was the one whose emotions ranged the farthest. Even though he was known for his trademark smile, one wrong move and his face could be filled with rage in an instant.

Perhaps that was what drew him to his room in the first place. Perhaps he simply wanted to be in the same room where that passionate man slept at night. Or maybe, somehow, he knew that Kirk would come back early. Knew that he'd go to his room and find him sitting there, waiting for him. Knew that just from seeing his face that he'd be tempted to touch him…

Spock brought his hand up to his face, still gasping for air. He could visibly see his long, slender hand shake. His physical reactions were extraordinarily extreme. There was also the tumult of conflicting emotions deep within him. Part of him was scared, unsure if he'd ever truly be able to control his emotions to the fullest extent anymore, especially not with Kirk as his captain. Part of him was repulsed; he and Uhura were still seeing each other, and to make a sexual advance at not only another person, but another man, was unbecoming even among human standards. Part of him was excited at how unpredictable his reactions were around Kirk. After leading a life of mechanical responses and citing rules, regulations, quotes, and theories, this man, this hot-blooded, reckless, stunning young human man, scraped away every last bit of his Vulcan ways until only the raw, suppressed human in him could be seen. And that part, the human in him, was completely and utterly turned on.

The human in him was surprisingly dark and twisted, Spock realized. It finally fully dawned on him that his biggest, deepest, darkest desire was to dominate Kirk. Not just to prove he was stronger and more intelligent, no. It had gone far beyond that now. As he had said to Bones after marooning Kirk, his prize stallion had to be broken in, and it was a task he was all too delighted to take on fully by himself. He licked his still moist lips, the taste of Kirk still lingering. Another evil smirk appeared on his face, one that spread wider on his face now that he was in private. His hand clenched into a fist as he stared blankly into space, determination clear on his face.

Yes. He would break the young captain. Break him of his promiscuous, flirtatious ways. Draw his attention to him and him alone. No other would ever take him away from him. He had laid claim to him. Spock thought sinisterly to himself:

He belongs to me…

The words echoed in his ears, somehow bringing him back to his senses. He clasped his head and dropped to his knees. No, he thought, what am I THINKING?!? Whyam I thinking these thoughts?!? Are they truly my own? Am I going MAD?!?

His head flew up out of his hands, his eyes darting swiftly around the room. There had to be some logical explanation for this psychological break down. It was not yet time for his pon farr; he still had a few years before it came. Could he be contaminated in some way? When exposed to certain neurotoxins, Vulcan became completely illogical and resorted to their baser instincts. Add his human heritage to the mix and surely it would explain everything.

Spock rose to his feet, calming himself as much as he could. The thought that he could be more than just emotionally compromised oddly gave him great comfort. Yes, since all this happened the moment he stepped foot on the Enterprise, it had to be that somehow there was something in the air that contaminating him. He needed only to cleanse himself to regain his senses. He walked swiftly out of his room, anxious to reach sick bay…

Then it occurred to him: The mind meld. Both he and Kirk had undergone the mind meld. Despite the fact that Spock had willingly melded minds with Prime, the sheer amount of emotional transference must be affecting his judgment and his actions. This also explained why Kirk was so unnaturally afraid of Spock, as his mind meld with Prime was unanticipated and transferred far more information than was originally intended. Regardless of his reasoning, he should never have stepped foot in Kirk's quarters…

A terrible revelation dawned on Spock: He had left the data pad he was writing on in Kirk's quarters! There was a chance he wouldn't even notice it, but what if he did?!? What if he saw what Spock had written?!? It wasn't entirely direct, but unfortunately for Spock, Kirk wasn't stupid. No, he was far from it, and he took an abnormal amount of pleasure in making everyone think he was an idiot only to throw just how intelligent he was in their face when they least expected it. Must have something to do with that overabundance of self-pride… In any case, even though Spock had written the poem in Vulcan to prevent prying eyes from reading it, it was likely that Kirk had voluntarily learned Vulcan in his free time. If he happened to read that poem…

He ran toward Kirk's room, his face pale at the thought of Kirk reading what he had so intimately expressed in the poem. Before he could break into a full run, he stopped himself. After his actions, he couldn't simply return to the scene of the crime. Even though it was simply to recover what rightfully was his, if Kirk was truly afraid and unwilling to be around Spock, there would be a repeat of their last encounter the instant he entered the room. Or worse, he could act further on his dark desires and traumatize Kirk completely.

This thought brought a stabbing pain to Spock's heart. He clutched his chest and leaned against the corridor wall. The thought of Kirk being afraid of Spock shook him to his core. It hurt him to recall those normally beautiful blue eyes filled with fear at the sight of him. And what was worse, he took advantage of it. He used that fear to get what he wanted, which was completely unlike him.

Spock closed his eyes. How could he have hurt him? How could he have done something like that to him? And what's more, how could either of them forgive him for it?

Slowly, Spock turned around and returned to his room. He fell on to his bed, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he had just rode on. He knew the best thing to do was to meditate and try to negate the dark side of him that seemed to be gaining a stronger hold on him, but he didn't have the energy to do it. The best course of action would be to not seek Kirk out, but rather let Kirk come to him. Perhaps by the time Kirk was comfortable enough to be around him, Spock would regain control of himself and his emotions would be back to normal.

He could only hope.

Kirk stood under the shower head, water soaking him from head to toe. Random puffs of steam clouds formed throughout the bathroom as Kirk couldn't seem to make his mind between taking a cold shower and taking a hot shower. As soon as the cold water hit him, he began to shake uncontrollably as the water on the ship was several degrees colder than the water in Iowa. But as soon as he switched back to hot water to thaw his frozen flesh, thoughts of Spock stole back into his mind and he would quickly switch back to cold to fend them, and the impending erection, off.

He turned the water off, frustrated that even a simple shower had become so difficult for him. He stepped out of the shower, water dripping off his lean, muscular body. He grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around him. Another smaller towel was used to dry his hair. He stepped back into his room and flopped in a nearby chair.

It was madness. That was his only explanation. A strange madness that developed from the mind meld he had with Spock. All the gobbledy-gook that festered in his mind had nothing to do with his own thoughts and feelings, but those of an ancient Vulcan who forced information into his head. Anger and humiliation boiled his blood as he recalled the incident with Spock. How could he have let himself act so passively? How could he not stand up to that pointy-eared bastard and kick his scrawny ass out of his room? Spock had gotten lucky during the Nero conflict. Kirk had been exhausted from Delta Vega and from saving Scotty. Had he been at full strength, he could have easily taken the Vulcan down.

Flashes of the fierceness in Spock's eyes sprung to Kirk's mind. He saw that crazed, untamed fierceness on the bridge after pushing him to his emotional limits, and he had seen it again that day. But the fierceness was somewhat different. When he was being choked, he saw rage and a desire to kill in Spock's eyes, but when he was being kissed…

Kirk recalled the kiss that he and Spock shared. He touched his lips, somehow still able to feel his bottom lip being suckled by Spock. It was a kiss that was passionate beyond any kiss he shared with a woman before. Somehow, there was a sweetness, a tenderness, a longing in it that was felt in that far too short moment.

He bit his bottom lip, frustrated at himself for stopping such an incredible kiss, and even more frustrated at the gradual rise beneath his towel. What the hell was wrong with him?!? This was his First Officer! This was a Vulcan, a cold-hearted unfeeling robot! And furthermore, it was another man! Kirk was a hot-blooded skirt chaser! He shouldn't be lusting after another man!

But if he thought about it, if he really and truly thought about it, there were certain things about him that were similar to the things that attracted him in a woman. He was head strong, he was intelligent, and he was unbelievably attractive (despite his distinctly obvious lack of breasts). He also had a power within him that matched and complimented his own. What set him apart from all the others was that instead of only possessing one or two of these characteristics at a time, he had it all. By that logic, his rapidly progressing attraction to the man made perfect sense. In fact, considering that he was a man, he could possibly be the only one worthy of him.

Every other woman he had been with was a mere tryst, save a couple who lasted longer than the romp in the bedroom. They were a conquest to be had that lost all its fun when he claimed them for his own. He was a heartbreaker before he boarded the Enterprise, not because he didn't value women for their strength and beauty, but because as soon as they made love, everything changed. The women would become clingy and flighty, which were two traits that were a total buzz kill for Kirk. Once the thrill of the chase disappeared completely, Kirk swiftly lost interest. Once he set his sights onto a woman, none resisted him for more than a week, save Uhura.

Ah, Uhura, another strong-willed woman. She was everything that turned him on most about women, and was the only one to resist him for over three years. Come to think of it, his attraction to her was mostly based on her severe lack of interest in him. After the Nero incident, it became quite clear how and why she was able to resist his advances; her sights were not just set elsewhere, they were set on Spock.

Jealousy reared its ugly head deep inside Kirk as he recalled their make out session on the teleport pad. After that, he had to endure the knowing looks they shot at each other, the whispers in each others' ears, the gentle touches as they passed each other on the bridge or in the hall.

It made him sick.

Yet Kirk was lost as to why it made him sick. Spock was a man that defied him every chance he got. Even after their vow to work together, still they conflicted. Spock cursed Kirk for his recklessness, while Kirk loathed the cool, indifferent reason Spock constantly spat at him. They stood on opposite sides of the spectrum and were like fire and ice, yet when they meshed and worked together for a common purpose, they were an unstoppable force. Despite their differences, he couldn't think of a better person to stand by his side as First Officer. But it was more than that. Something about Spock made him feel whole, complete. It was almost as if all the skirt-chasing he had done was to fill a hole that never seemed to go away, and once Spock came along, that hole, that emptiness, finally disappeared.

It finally hit Kirk. The mind meld wasn't the reason his emotions off; it instead was showing him why his emotions were off:

He was in love.

For the first time in his life, he found a kindred spirit that held the key to his heart, a person who he would give his life to protect.

Why the hell did it have to be Spock?!?

Frustrated, he hit his fist on the wall-bound desk behind him. A data pad slipped and fell to the ground with a loud ka-thunk. His attention shifted to the fallen data pad, which he bent down and picked up gingerly. Luckily the data pad hadn't fallen from a high enough height to break and still functioned normally. He looked at the data pad and saw something written in Vulcan. That's right, Kirk thought to himself, Spock had this when I walked in on him. He smirked at Spock's Vulcan handwriting and knew immediately that this wasn't meant for his eyes to see. It was too bad for Spock that Kirk knew a multitude of alien languages, including Vulcan.

Kirk held the data pad in his lap and began reading. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that Spock had written a poem. A poem? What's Spock doing writing poetry? What does Spock even knowabout writing poetry?!? Curiosity getting the better of him, he read the title of the poem: Complexity. Hmm, he thought. Complexity, huh? This could be interesting… He read on:

A world of darkness swirls within,
The life which makes my vision spin,
The sadness which my heart can not dispel;
Were it true to feel no more
The aching pain within my core,
I would gladly end it all, this horrid hell.

But those blue eyes I see so clearly,
Which give me strength when I am weary
Would be forever lost and gone to waste.
Skip no more my heartbeat would,
Yet banish the rage inside, I could.
A decision must be made, and made with haste!

The complexity that all can see,
Can that be all there is to me?
Sometimes I feel it true, but does he too?
I hate myself and love him so,
It can not be! It all must go,
But losing him I simply can not do.

It wasn't until Kirk finished reading the poem that he remembered to breath. His mind raced with thoughts as the poem's true meaning began to solidify in his head. Oh my God… he thought incredulously. This poem is about me? Why is he writing poetry about me?!? And such romantic poetry too…it's like he's conflicted about whether he loves me or not…but not just that…whether it's right for him to love me or not. But what's this about darkness swirling and his vision spinning? This doesn't make any sense…

Kirk rose from his chair and walked toward his door with the data pad in hand when he caught himself. There were two reasons he shouldn't leave his room: one, he had nothing save a towel covering himself up. If Spock was as conflicted as his poem indicated, showing up almost naked wouldn't help anything. Two, he had just read something personal that wasn't meant for him to read, hence the Vulcan handwriting. He couldn't just waltz into Spock's quarters and say, "Hey Spock, your poem sounds like you're in love with me! What's up with that?!?"

Sighing, Kirk walked back to the desk where the data pad originally lay and placed it back on there, this time further from the edge so it wouldn't fall again. After he did that, he decided to find something, anything, to take his mind off of the extremely strange position he found himself in. If Spock really did love him, then that meant all that was left was for them to tell each other. But after what had just happened, the last thing he needed was to approach Spock with a confession. He pulled open his drawer and pulled out some clothes. Surely there was something on the ship he could do to distract himself…

…right?