Oh HAI DER ALL YOU LOVELY ADORABLE PEOPLE! So remember when I was like: "This story is rated M for so and so's reasons"? Well… let's just say Jim's libido woke up, right?
And, um… Spock exists?
So, logically…?
Chapter Eleven: Veritatem Dies Aperit
There were so many things that were simultaneously wrong with him the moment he woke up that Jim was unsure as to which one was the most worsest... wait, not a real word, but still just horrible, bad, awful, negative adjectives that could be accurately summed up with the word "ugh."
Or possibly "ouch."
He was lying in his bed in the same clothes as the night before. Not exactly smelling of roses. With a painful throbbing lip. Sporting a delightfully agonizing headache. Mouth feeling like he'd tried to eat cotton-candy without the candy part. Dizzy. Hard. Hungover—wait. What was the one before last?
"This isn't happening," he said aloud firmly. Just in case there was any doubt about this not happening at all, he added: "I'm dreaming. A nightmare. This isn't real."
Except that it was happening, of course, and there's only so long you can go on denying reality.
...Oh shit.
"Fuck me," he rasped and scrambled to sit up, remembering with shockingly vivid clarity just how explicit his imagination had decided to take things with Spock tonight, albeit all on its own and with no voluntary participation on his first officer's part whatsoever (or at least none that the real Spock was aware of).
Also, by purely accidental and random coincidence, the phrase he'd just said had been featured rather prominently.
Jim clutched his head and groaned as he let himself fall back onto his pillow. The world lurched unpleasantly but he ignored it.
Why, ceiling? Why Spock? Of all people he could want in the most inappropriate ways... why? He couldn't have picked a worse time, place or person to develop this... weird... crush... thing. What was it about Spock that captivated him so completely? Was it merely the fact that Spock was, in every possible way, something he could never have? Off-limits, out-of-bounds, like a door with a 'Do Not Enter' sign or a button marked 'Do Not Press'... like an unreachable, unattainable, impossible, tantalizing...
Yeah, thoughts like these weren't really helping. At all.
With determined ferocity, Jim leaped off the bed, stumbled, righted himself by gripping the desk chair, then walked to the bathroom at a more reasonable pace.
His resolve to get over this draw towards his First Officer wasn't faltering... exactly. It was more like... wobbling a little bit, because of the wrench in his Plan A. But it was a temporary wobble, of course. He'd be fine. This was only a setback. A minor one, surely.
The problem was that it had never been quite like this before for him. So... distracting.
He thought this as he stripped off his shirts in the still dimly lit bathroom, reluctant to open the glaring lights.
There had to be another way of getting Spock out of his head. Right? It needed to exist, because Plan A was, admittedly, totally fucked since he didn't really feel like sleeping with anyone. He made a point of ignoring the evidence happily stating that there was at least one person whom he did very much want to sleep with.
As Jim tugged down his briefs he was actually glad that he'd pissed off Commodore Emerett and didn't have a tub. Because a tub would make it harder for him to resist doing something to take care of his current state, something which he knew he really shouldn't want to do.
After instructing the computer of the sonic shower to set the water temperature to "as freezing cold as is possible without me dying or something, please God let this be over soon" Jim grabbed his toothbrush off the shelf under the mirror and smeared it with paste, then jabbed it in his mouth and stepped into the shower.
"Holy mother of-!" He yelped in a rather high-pitched soprano, toothpaste flying and brush clattering to the blue floor as ice-cold liquid washed over him, plastering his hair to his skull and snapping him awake with the indifferent cruelty so characteristic of inanimate things. Goosebumps immediately raised on his skin and he shuddered, but after standing still for a few moments he found he could bear it, and he welcomed the frigidity, which helped with the... rigidity.
Determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, Jim dropped to his knees and blindly searched for the fallen toothbrush, vision blurred by the water dripping into his eyes, until his fingers closed around the thing and he stuck it in his mouth again. Then he stood back up and grabbed the soap.
With efficient speed he scrubbed himself, put three different kinds of stuff in his hair that he had no idea what they were, and finally rinsed it all off, feeling much better, refreshed, and possibly ready to face fake fluorescent sunlight again.
His thoughts hovered toward the other room but didn't enter it, like a caged animal pressed against the bars.
That is, not until he'd finished brushing his teeth, when Jim tipped his head back and let water pool in his mouth, then spat it out.
Unfortunately, the liquid looked... familiar.
"Fugh," he swore, brush still in his mouth and eyes wide with horror as a battery of images assaulted him.
Oh yes. A cold shower to clear his thoughts. Sure. What a truly grand idea that had been, Jim. Just step in the shower totally naked and don't think of other things people can do while they're naked... and also by 'people' his brain now automatically leaped to 'Spock!', and wasn't that just fucking convenient.
Safe to say his metabolism didn't give a shit about the fact that he was supposed to be cold and therefore not hard, as heat flooded him and what had been a dwindling issue came back, full force.
Jim felt saliva and more toothpaste dribble down his chin and onto his chest as he considered what to do next. Because the obvious solution was wrong. So, so so wrong. Not to mention completely inappropriate. All in all a very bad idea. Quickly heading toward the reaches of depraved. Sick, even. Shameful. Wanton.
The adjectives filled his brain like wicked whispers while Jim's breaths quickened against his will, pulse pounding in his ears, and...
Spock was in the next room.
And... he did it anyway.
And it felt amazing. And from that point forward, on the dictionary, next to the entry on 'guilty pleasure' there would be a screen-capture of this moment.
Or, on second thought... hopefully not.
x
So... those had been interesting dreams. Plural.
As he walked to the cafeteria Jim wretchedly concluded that his brain had been working so hard on repressing these thoughts before, that now that they were 'unleashed,' so to speak, it had to make up for lost time. And torture him. With sex. Lots of sex.
Imaginary sex.
With Spock.
He hoped, however, that he was up early enough that he could avoid seeing his First Officer for breakfast and skip the whole 'explanation' he was supposed to give the guy for his crazy behaviour last night... oh God, he hadn't accidentally confessed anything, had he? It was all a bit hazy, but he was pretty sure he hadn't slipped up. Although he did vividly remember biting his lip and Spock coming inside to heal it. So thoughtful and sweet, even when Jim was sure to be acting like a weirdo in Spock's honest eyes...
He was so messed up in the head. He'd jerked off this morning on thoughts of... how would he face his friend now? Life as he knew it was officially over! If he'd only known how easy he had it before...
"Kirk! Hey, Kirk!" A loud female voice called to him from down the hall.
Jim turned toward it with a sinking feeling. Unfortunately, he soon spotted Mara striding towards him from down the corridor, wearing her science uniform and a ponytail.
"Uh... hey."
For once, she looked slightly abashed. "Hey yourself. Listen, I wanted to say that I'm sorry about last night."
"What?"
"I'm sorry. Don't make me say it again? I suck at this sort of thing."
Jim shrugged and started walking again; she matched his pace. "Then I should probably apologize too because—"
"No, it's fine... I was mean. I do that sometimes, and it wasn't... anyway, we were both really stupid. I hope we can just forget it happened and clear the air. Oh, and don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
Jim stopped outside the door to the mess hall and turned around.
"Enough with the Spock thing, okay? I told you, it's not like that with us. Please don't make something out of..." he trailed away as the lie got stuck in his throat. With every word that came out of his mouth, Mara's eyebrows had risen a little more in disbelief. "All right, fine, I give up. You can imagine whatever you want."
"Thank you," she chirped, and strode inside. Jim rolled his eyes and had no choice but to follow, since he was starving.
He was surprised to find the place was already full of people with only a couple of empty seats. Damn perky early birds, the lot of them.
"So... you wanna sit together?" he asked her. He'd have preferred to eat alone, or at least with one of his crew, but all the officers here were Starbase and none of them looked familiar. Besides, the only free table was for two.
"I'd love that."
Mara turned and smiled at him, for once without that teasing, mocking edge, which was why he returned it with real warmth.
They managed to chat amicably enough while they ate sandwiches (Jim chose not to have pancakes, thank you very much) and Mara seemed to be making a real effort to be nice, which was actually great because Jim's brain probably couldn't handle any more stress today.
Not since the way he'd chosen to relieve it this morning.
"Oh hey, there's Spock."
She didn't say 'your husband' or your 'your boytoy,' which had to count for something, but Jim still jumped slightly in his seat when he looked up from his plate and took in the sight of his First Officer entering the room.
"Yup, that's him all right," he said without glancing at Mara. Embarrassment crept up his face in what was sure to become a blush unless he stopped it (only he hadn't quite gotten to the point where he could control his blood-flow at will) as Jim remembered this morning again. Electric, fast strokes and the image of Spock clad in steam, the water sticking his eyelashes together, driving away the chill from the air...
"Kirk?" Mara tapped his arm lightly and smirked once he jolted out of his daydream.
"What?"
Her expression was full of theatric concern. "Sweetie, that's not how you look at people. That's how you look at dessert."
Jim shot her a glare, but she just kept smiling. It was more tentative than he'd expected, though, like she was afraid of really pissing him off. He decided he was okay with having her remain a little on edge for the time being.
"Seriously, just lather the guy in chocolate and lick it off, will you? Do us all a favour," Mara added when he didn't answer, her little smile growing into a suggestive leer. "And I mean that."
"Oh shut up," he hissed, fighting a (possibly hysterical, by this point) laugh. "He'll hear you."
He waved Spock over and prayed the hastily-shoved lid on his impulses would hold, because the half-Vulcan looked as prim and neat as always, and that made Jim want to muss up his hair.
"Morning," he said when Spock reached them and stood behind Mara's chair. The friendly grin attached to the greeting came very easily to him but then again, it wasn't smiling at Spock that was the problem.
"Good morning, Captain," his First Officer addressed him in return, consequently eying Mara, whose amused expression was replaced by hesitation.
"Nice to see you again, Mr Spock."
"Hello," Spock said, towering over her.
An awkward pause followed, during which Spock and Mara stared at each other and Jim mostly tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
"The lab," Mara blurted. "I need to go there." She stood up (leaped up was more like it, actually) from the chair and Spock stepped aside to let her pass. "I'll see you around, Kirk."
Spock sat down in her place without a word and Jim gaped after her quickly retreating form.
"What the hell was that about?" He said, dumbfounded.
Spock looked at him innocently. "I would not presume to know the workings of a Human female's mind."
"Don't worry, no one would presume that, ever."
Their gazes held for a moment before Jim grabbed his sandwich and shoved it in his mouth in a way that probably wasn't incredibly attractive (but this was a good thing). Spock's stare drifted down to where a drop of mustard had fallen on Jim's shirt, then slowly went back up, as though studying him.
"Whu?"
"You exhibit no outward signs of discomfort."
"M'fn."
"Perhaps attempting to speak after you have swallowed is more prudent."
Jim fought the urge to cough at that and was finally able to vocalize. "I said I'm fine. Bit of a headache but nothing I can't deal with. I... wanted to thank you for last night."
"The desire to thank me is illogical, as you did not allow my assistance. Your lip is swollen and there is some bruising."
Jim frowned and gingerly brushed it with his middle and index fingers. It stung, but it wasn't too bad.
"Still. You were very—" adorable, endearing, wonderful, amazing "—kind."
Spock did the staring/analyzing thing again, this time concentrated on Jim's hand, still touching his tender lower lip.
"Something you wanted to ask, Spock?"
"Yes." Chocolate-black eyes darted away for a second and back to his. "Yesterday you spoke of something that was... not allowed."
Jim's gut clenched in horror. He couldn't remember exact words but Spock was sure to know them perfectly, commas and all. What had he said...?
"This alleged something was also forbidden. And you asked me not to speak of it to anyone, yet you failed to explain what it was." Oh thank God. "Therefore I inquired as to its nature, and you promised an explanation when your brain stopped... 'being stupid,' I believe was your phrasing."
Right. Yes, he remembered now.
Only how the hell was he going to explain this to Spock?
"Spock... I was drunk."
"I do recall that part of our interaction, Jim," the Vulcan said in a monotone, his eyes still boring into Jim's.
Jim felt a brief smile tug his mouth. Even in the midst of yet another little cozy panic-attack, Spock managed to make him feel better, although this time was inadvertent.
"Yes, well, sometimes we Humans say stuff that doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to mean anything."
Spock just kept up his glare and didn't say anything. Usually Jim was awesome at their little staring contests but right now he didn't think looking into Spock's dark, expressive eyes for much longer was a truly inspired idea.
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember," he said finally, casting his gaze down to his shirt and wiping the drop of mustard with his index finger. At least it was sort of the truth, if you looked at it sideways with very narrowed eyes. "You know how you keep saying I'm illogical all the time?"
"Yes."
Jim licked the mustard off and gave a little appreciative hum. "I miss this stuff when we're on the ship. We should reprogram the replicators to make some."
"My point precisely. You were saying?"
"Well, alcohol makes us illogical times a million."
Jim found himself wondering whether his lip looked really bad, because Spock was staring at his mouth very intently. So intently it was almost unnerving.
He sucked his finger one last time and gave a half-shrug.
"So you should just chalk it up to 'Weird Stuff Humans Do That I Don't Understand (And Am Secretly Glad)' and forget it. Please?"
"... Very well."
Spock's lower lip jutted out a little bit, like a tiny pout, and Jim internally whimpered.
His 'macho' levels would never be the same after this whole affair.
"So hey, what do Vulcan newsfeeds read like?"
That got him an incredulous expression, no doubt because of the sudden (and not very subtle) change of topic.
"What? I'm curious, sue me."
"I believe you are already 'being sued.'"
Jim burst out laughing. Spock's mouth twitched at the corners, which meant Jim was forgiven.
"That I am, and you are too, so shove it. Are there any gossip columns? Oh, oh, what about paparazzi? That would be so weird—"
"Vulcan newsfeeds differ greatly from any you might be familiar with, Jim. They state information in a manner that lacks the... embellishments other humanoid species tend to add to create a more entertaining feature. They provide detail that is solely rooted in fact, and do not indulge in speculation."
"So more like academic articles, then?" Jim said, taking another huge bite of his sandwich.
"The comparison is undoubtedly more accurate, yes."
"Oh. Then I'm pretty sure I've read and referenced a few of them for my dissertation. I just figured they were scientific articles."
Spock's eyebrow twitched. "That is because they are scientific articles."
Jim chuckled. "Right. Still—"
"Well if it isn't Mr and Mrs Spock!"
Dammit.
Heads turned toward them from all over them room. Spock's eyes shot to the door Jim had his back to and Jim looked around for the source of the disturbance, already knowing who it was.
Just when he'd managed to forget the idiot was even in the same Starbase, Ben Finney marched up to the side of their table and planted his feet right next to them.
"Morning, Jimmy," he said with a smirk. Clearly the guy was in a good mood, and this did not bode well.
Jim looked up at him with his sweetest smile. "Fuck off, Ben."
"Never. You'd get bored."
"Believe me, I wouldn't."
"Awww... are we out of witty comebacks for the day?" Ben asked with a mock-concerned frown.
Jim shrugged. "My imagination must be fading. Kind of like your hairline."
"Hmm, a bit forced, but it was a good try."
Spock was silent but he surveyed the scene darkly.
"Well." Jim clapped and pushed his chair back. "If the sight of you wasn't enough to turn my stomach, we're late now anyway. Bye."
They both stood to leave but Ben grabbed Jim's elbow before he could take more than a couple of steps.
"Five days left before the trial, right?"
"How attached are you to your nose?" The Captain asked inquisitively. Finney's grip loosened and Jim jerked his arm away. "That's better."
They were still pretty close and Ben frowned when he caught sight of Jim's mouth. "The hell happened to your lip?"
"None of your business. Seriously, Ben, you need to get over me."
The taller man's expression went from curiosity to an angry snarl with disturbing speed. "Stop saying that. I hate you."
Jim flinched and stepped back. The guy might be acting like a jerk but... they used to be friends.
Suddenly a warm, firm hand closed around his forearm, just above the wrist.
"It might not be advisable to get involved in an altercation at this time, Jim," Spock murmured, although his eyes were pitch-black and fixed on the other science officer, spitting undiluted 'back off' vibes.
Almost like it was Spock having trouble not hitting Ben, instead of Jim. Which would be bizarre.
With one last look at the man who he thought he used to know, Jim walked away, a certain half-Vulcan trailing after him because he was still attached to his arm.
The door opened and closed behind them, and they started walking along the corridor at a leisurely pace, since they were, in fact, rather early for Moss' office.
"I wasn't going to."
"Excuse me?"
He extracted his wrist from Spock's hold with a bit more irritation than he usually displayed with his First Officer. Spock stared down at their hands as though he'd only just realised what he'd been doing.
"I wasn't going to punch Ben," Jim explained, slightly offended that Spock would think he'd actually punch someone in the middle of a crowded cafeteria five days before the trial. "You didn't need to hold me back or anything."
Spock seemed a bit surprised at that, and he regarded Jim carefully. "You did not wish to cause him bodily harm?"
Jim gave a grim chuckle. "Well, that's a whole different matter. But I wasn't going to act on it. Don't tell me you didn't wanna sock the guy," He added with a sharp look, hoping to make Spock reveal something. "Not even a little bit?"
But Spock's face was blank as he replied. "The thought occurred to me briefly. He is a most unpleasant individual."
"Tell me about it."
"He professed to 'hate' you. I cannot understand that."
Jim sighed at the memory. Did Ben truly despise him enough to want to ruin his career and his relationship with Spock, all on one go? He could wrap his head around the fact that someone he'd unintentionally pissed off in the Admiralty had nudged someone else who'd then felt forced to report their situation, but he could still remember trying to get Ben to understand warp-core mechanics and failing hilariously.
Admittedly, Jim was doing great on the whole 'ruining his and Spock's friendship' all by his lonesome, but still. In a sneaky, creeping sort of way that had caught Jim completely off-guard a few months ago when someone had pointed a gun at Spock, it was one of the most important relationships in his life, and he couldn't stand the thought of Ben being one of the people who wanted to take that away from him, too.
"So you admit you wouldn't have minded introducing him to your fist?" he prodded, shaking away the heavy thoughts.
"Violence is not in my nature," Spock replied primly. Jim thought this was a bit hypocritical of him, and said so.
Spock swallowed. "I always endeavor to avoid it. I... am not always successful."
"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," Jim backtracked with haste, regretting it instantly. "It's okay, I totally deserved it for what I said. Even if I didn't mean it. And I'm very sorry."
"We have spoken of this incident in length before, you should stop concerning yourself with what was said." The Vulcan's tone was almost stern.
"When you stop worrying about what was done," Jim replied lightly, having none of that.
Spock eyed him silently for a moment, then gave a brief nod. "Mr Finney's attitude seems most illogical, even for a Human. Is he perhaps inebriated as well?"
It was Jim's turn to note a rather abrupt shift of topic, but he just smiled softly and chose not to comment on it.
"It's actually pretty simple. He's bitter, and his career isn't going great and he used to like me, so now he hates my guts."
"... Fascinating. What is it like to be so governed by your emotions? Entirely susceptible to—"
"Let me just stop you right there before we get into another 'Humans really aren't that bad or crazy' discussion," Jim said with a laugh, holding his hands up. "Agree to disagree?"
"Very well. Yet I am still unable to grasp the concept. It does not seem even remotely logical, and I have seen Humans utilize logic on occasion."
Spock seemed truly absorbed with this train of thought, as though the simple idea was one of his exciting alien plants or something.
It was kind of making Jim want to lick him a lot.
"Come on, the concept of hate isn't that difficult to understand. I'm pretty sure it wasn't adoration that you felt for me the first time we met."
Spock would have scoffed at that if he wasn't so repressed, Jim was sure of it. As it was, he settled for a slightly exasperated look.
"It is not the general idea of hate that is incomprehensible to me."
Jim frowned. "Okay, now I'm confused. Then what's so hard to understand?"
But Spock went all distant as he pondered Jim's question, and didn't seem about to offer an immediate response.
Jim waited impatiently for a while as they walked until finally Spock gave one firm shake of his head and said; "It is irrelevant."
"Wha—? Is this payback for before?"
The Vulcan exhaled sharply through his nose and increased his pace. "No."
And that was all the answer Jim got.
Despite being pretty brilliant at warp-core mechanics, it never occurred to him that what Spock had trouble understanding was how someone could do anything but love James Kirk, even if it was against their will.
x
"I'd like to call Lieutenant Nyota Uhura to the stand."
Jim raised his eyebrows at the lawyer's comment. "You want her to be a witness? To what?"
Moss stood from his desk chair and turned to the shelves behind it; Jim could already see the black-cased Veritas device waiting patiently to be used.
"Well, she and Commander Spock maintained an official, disclosed relationship for quite some time. I think it's important she get her say."
Spock nodded like he understood and Jim suddenly remembered seeing them kiss over the past few months, which was a surprisingly small number of times but still managed to make his fists curl in anger and a bitter taste flood his mouth.
"Okay. Cool, I can tell her to come by tomorrow."
"That's actually my job," Moss said. "Don't worry. I just wanted you both to be aware of it. I trust there are no objections on your part either, Mr Spock?"
"No."
"Excellent. Well, we've made plenty of progress and we've worked well, and there are only four more days left. Obviously we need to keep this up, but I would also like to speak to Dr McCoy. You said you're good friends, Captain Kirk, is that correct?"
"Yeah, we are." Jim tried to picture Bones in formal clothing being interviewed for the defense and not being allowed to swear even a little. He'd done it before for official records stuff but it would still be an awesome sight... and then Jim remembered the last conversation they'd had.
And suddenly that thought wasn't funny at all.
"I... that might not be a great idea."
Moss's sharp stare cut right through him.
"Oh? And why is that?"
Jim sat up a little straighter and met the look with a stony one of his own. "Bones sucks at this sort of thing. He's not exactly a people person."
"I thought he was your Chief Medical Officer."
"Believe me, it's a mystery to us all."
While his face betrayed nothing (take that, Spock!) Jim's mind was reeling. Suddenly he wondered whether he should have told Moss about his little shift of perspective since they'd last used the Veritas to test his answers.
"Still, I think it's important that the doctor speak as well."
He decided to wait it out a little, see if he couldn't try and deal with it on his own before rushing off to get help. Moss would probably have an aneurysm if he knew some of the thoughts that had gone through Jim's mind today, poor fellow.
"Kirk?"
"Yeah. It's fine by me."
"Mr Spock? Any thoughts?"
Jim turned to Spock, still practicing his Vulcan face. Much to his frustration, however, the second their eyes met he felt a little grin tug at his mouth and was powerless to resist.
"Spock loves Bones," he said. "Don't you, Spock?"
Disdain was another emotion Spock pulled off effortlessly. Jim rolled his eyes, grin still in place.
"Stating a few facts is hardly a challenge, I am certain even Dr McCoy can handle it."
"See what I mean?"
"All right, all right, then I'll ask him to meet me here tomorrow as well. Is there anyone else you feel could help state your case?"
They were both silent for a moment.
"What about Sulu? He's the pilot, and also a good friend of mine."
Spock voiced his agreement and Moss toke note.
Chekov might be seen as too young by Commodore Emerett who, being the highest ranking officer, was acting as judge. Even though this was a military court martial and that title didn't give him absolute authority, he was a well-respected figure, and he would mediate the trial. Also, among the jury would be a panel of veterans and enlisted persons that didn't need to be reminded of how new to all of this some of the crew of the Enterprise was.
Scotty was... Scotty, but Jim trusted him probably more than anyone, so he mentioned him to Moss as well. Time passed quickly after that as all these testimonies were debated, until they decided on a small group that included Uhura, Bones, Sulu, Scotty, Chief of Security Giotto, one of the Yeoman who interacted with Jim more often called Rand, and Nurse Chapel. They might not all end up appearing, that depended ultimately on the lawyer, of course, but it was a good start.
"Oh, before we leave I forgot to mention; I met a reporter yesterday."
"You what?"
Moss's eyes bulged and for a second Jim and Spock had practically identical reactions of surprise.
"How is that even possible? I thought the closest they'd be getting here was in a couple of days! What did you say?"
"Nothing! I didn't say anything, I promise," Jim said quickly.
"Figures they'd want to catch us unawares, of course, damn them..." Moss muttered.
Jim shrugged. "I guess. He was really nice, though. And didn't seem upset about me saying 'no' to the interview," he added.
Moss looked a bit mollified. "Still, I'm glad you did, Kirk." He turned to adress Spock as well. "No interviews, I'm afraid, gentlemen. At least not yet. I might consider something once this has started, but first I need to gauge the jury's reaction, before worrying about the public's."
"Sounds good to me."
Spock stood to leave. "I concur. And, since it appears necessary, I shall endeavor to keep the journalist away from the Captain."
"You what?"
Moss chuckled. "I didn't mean avoid them at all costs, Mr Spock, that's probably going to be impossible—"
"I shall do my best. He is not to be trusted."
"Me or the other Vulcan?" Jim said dryly.
"The journalist is Vulcan?" Moss asked curiously.
"He is not to be trusted," Spock repeated, his jaw was a hard line of determination. "It is inconvenient for many reasons that you interact, Captain. He is a touch telepath, you are a tactile being."
Jim was about to object to the qualification, but then he just decided not to.
"If his objective here is to seek information, it is likely his mental barriers are not as strict as mine, regardless of his levels of emotional control. Furthermore, if he does taste your mind it is entirely possible that he may find it desirable."
Well that was a weird direction for the speech to take.
"Come again?"
"Do not trouble yourself, Jim, my constant presence will ensure he does not attempt anything inappropriate," Spock said reassuredly.
"But... what...?"
"You would be powerless to save yourself if he did; your mind is strong and dynamic for a Human's, but not strong enough to battle his."
"But—"
"Do not underestimate him because he is Vulcan. Do not attribute qualities such as kindness to him; you are an intriguing Human and curiosity is powerful."
"But—"
"In the probable event that he is susceptible to your charms, then I assure you I will take it upon myself to—"
"Spock!" Jim interrupted loudly. It worked; Spock stopped talking, perhaps instinctively responding to the authority that had crept into Jim's shout.
Then again, perhaps not.
"Okay, first of all, I can take care of myself and I don't need you taking it upon yourself to protect my mind. Although I'm flattered you'd offer."
Maybe a bit too flattered. So flattered, in fact, that he was fighting the undeniable desire to skip, or punch the air in joy, or do other such childish things. But Spock didn't need to know that.
"Second; it sounded like you just suggested I'd inadvertently seduce this guy with my awesome thoughts. Believe me, if I'm seducing someone, the first person to know will be... well, actually it will probably be whoever I'm seducing, but the second one will definitely be me. So no worries on that front, either.
"And third; you don't even know the guy's name, what makes you think he'd make the sudden leap from curious reporter to... whatever it is that you're implying and that I'm not sure I get? I'll be fine. He's not interested in me like that, anyway."
For some reason it was this last part that made Spock's eyes flash in irritation for a moment. "Have you already made inquiries? On your first meeting?"
"What? No. Of course not. I don't go around propositioning every person I come across, you know."
Spock's left hand clenched. "In that case you cannot know that he does not harbor disagreeable intentions—"
"I'm pretty sure I could tell. I'm not that dumb." Okay, he was starting to get really annoyed.
"Your logic is flawed."
"Your logic is flawed."
"You are both crazy and I want you out of my office."
They turned as one to see Moss, sitting in his chair wearily.
"Sorry," Jim said, but his eyes were still glued to Spock and it was only now that he understood why.
The Vulcan's stance was taut and there was that feeling around him again, of a coiled spring, of holding back, of clutching control to his chest by gripping it with the last vestiges of rationality... anger looks too good on him, Jim realized.
He also realized that it wasn't annoyance suddenly making it impossible to breathe.
Those penetrating, now pitch-black eyes were completely focused on him, making Jim the sole receiver of every bit of Spock's considerable attention. It was a heady feeling. One he'd felt before, certainly, but he'd never had the chance to truly appreciate how incredibly intoxicating it could become.
It took every bit of his resolve for Jim to wrench his eyes away, wave a distracted good-bye at Moss and walk out. Spock's even steps followed right behind him.
They were silent only for a moment.
"Fine. I'll be the first to admit that, telepathy-wise, I'm not exactly an expert," Jim conceded. "So it makes sense for you to make sure the guy doesn't try and quote my thoughts or something. I'm sorry."
Spock gave one stiff nod, apparently satisfied, and thinking the conversation over.
Yeah right.
"But this is like, the millionth time you've accidentally called me a slut."
This actually got Spock to stop walking. Jim turned to him hoping the hurt didn't show in his eyes (he knew it wasn't the most unreasonable claim ever, but still).
"My apologies," Spock said sincerely. "It was not my intention."
"Sure it was."
"It was not a logical accusation. There is no evidence, merely inference and implications."
Well, he'd gotten Spock to admit to saying something illogical. That was definitely a point to Jim.
"Good, as long as you remember that. But you also need to stop it with the over-protective... oh."
As he was saying it hit him like a ton of bricks. Spock was being over-protective. Spock... half-Vulcan, science officer, lover of plants extraordinaire and master of logic above all, was worried about him, James Kirk.
Suddenly it was a tad difficult not to yell in delight.
"It was not my intention to be... I was merely attempting to help-"
"So really all of this is your way of showing your epic and undying affection, isn't it?"
Spock actually stepped away from him, like he was contagious. Jim just laughed.
"Oh come on, admit it! You're looking out for me now that there's another Vulcan in town, aren't you?"
"I... I am unfamiliar with the metaphor of 'looking out'..."
"You know I'll always love you best, right?"
By this point Spock gave up and started walking again. Jim followed at a happy trot.
"You're the cutest thing ever, you are." As long as he said it jokingly, he figured he was allowed to speak his mind.
"I would ask that you do not refer to me as... in that way."
"What? Are you not even allowed to say it if you're quoting me?"
Spock pursed his lips. "... 'Cute'," he said in a monotone.
"Aha!"
"Jim, please..."
The more familiar cadence of fond exasperation let Jim know he'd succeeded in putting things back to normal. Mostly.
"Lemme guess, you don't want anyone to know I got you to say 'cute'?"
"Specifically, Dr McCoy..."
"Swear for me," he said quickly. "Just once, and I promise I won't tell him."
Spock's strict upbringing in haughty superiority no doubt made him incapable of swearing, or maybe he just didn't like doing what Jim told him to do all the time, but either way Jim managed to be glad of this in the end.
For some reason he figured it would probably be hot as hell, therefore a terribly bad idea.
Well, it's official! After 11 chapters the trial is finally going to begin (in the next one)! YAY FOR ME TOTALLY NOT PLANNING TO TAKE THIS LONG *shifty eyes*
Pancakes anyone? :D
Oh, and I want to say hi to all those lurkers out there! I realize I haven't even waved to you guys or anything but I wanted to thank you so much for all the favs and alerts!
PS. I would like to apologize for the teensy bits of porn in this? They just sort of happened! /
PS2. I'll probably warn you when there's actual, you know... sMexing. Although I kind of wanted it to be a surprise. But... I'll figure out something *wink*
PS3. Damsel!Kirk will forever be hilarious to me. I'm sorry. XD