Long A/N is LONG (BUT NOT AS RIDICULOUSLY LONG AS THIS RIDICULOUSLY LONG 12K CHAPTER, OMG), sorry bbs!
Okay, so here goes. I'm very sorry to have to say that Christmas vacays are not, in fact, going to consist of much vacay time for me because ALL of my finals are in January/till the beginning of February. So I'm not saying it will take a month to update, but I can't promise a new chapter in a week because I honestly don't know how soon I can finish Fifteen. Maybe in five days I've magically produced 8K, maybe two weeks… maybe a little more. I'm really sorry but this is why being a med student occasionally makes me want to cause people severe bodily harm (AND BY 'PEOPLE' I MEAN MY EVIL, EVIL PROFESSORS!) instead of giving them tender loving care XD
On the AWESOME side, yesterday in cardiac anatomy my teacher was telling us about a triangle of cells between the two auricles of the heart and instead of writing "Koch Triangle" HE WROTE KOCK. ON THE BLACKBOARD. IN GIANT LETTERS. AND I FAILED SO HARD AT NOT GIGGLING AND EVERYBODY STARED AT ME BUT IT WAS SO WORTH IT!
Chapter Fourteen: Lux Et Veritas
"Do you wish there was any kind of romantic involvement between you and Commander Spock?"
He had no time to freeze in shock. No time to blink stupidly at her and flounder for an answer, any answer, that didn't give away his wish because yes, of course he wished, he wanted and dreamed and at night he needed.
He remembered fearing this exact question yesterday and the moment when he had realised there was simply no way he could deny it outright because to do so would be to lie; he couldn't say 'no' because the word romantic allowed for a wide range of ideas… and maybe Jim didn't have epic sunsets in mind but wanting to worship Spock's neck with kisses counted, or at least to him it did, and he was what the Veritas device was scanning.
First he decided to play dumb blonde, both to annoy Areel and because it had gotten him out of scrapes before. Still, he knew that hiding his intellect when he wanted to remind everyone that he was the fully capable captain of the Federation's prime flagship could only be used as a momentary distraction.
"Uh… but I thought you already asked me that earlier?"
"I—"
"Objection!"
Moss stood from his chair with a frustrated expression under which Jim knew lay panic, knew this because he was feeling the exact same thing and trying to shove it beneath a layer of strained control.
"Captain Kirk has indeed already answered this and the entire line of questioning is, I repeat, irrelevant, as well as extremely inappropriate."
Areel's eyes retained that steely gleam and she crossed her arms over her chest. Before Emerett could speak, she turned to the lawyer.
"I'm sorry, Mr Moss, but are you actually suggesting that whether Captain Kirk wishes to pursue a romantic relationship with his First Officer can truly be considered irrelevant, given what they are being accused of?"
"The nature of their relationship is not in question—"
"Then why do you presume to declare them 'just friends' and yet refuse to allow the Captain to answer a simple inquiry? Whether Captain Kirk and Commander Spock are compromised by each other seems quite important in these circumstances, how can you dismiss a question related to the degree of that compromise, Mr Moss?"
At this the Commodore sat back and didn't seem about to interrupt them, which made the mutters from the crowd all the more conspicuous.
Jim's heart was bruising his ribs by trying to punch its way out of his chest, and Spock just sat there, immobile and impassive.
"You yourself stated this during your opening statement, Miss Shaw," Moss said condescendingly. "Why are you contradicting yourself now?"
"I said the evidence would come to demonstrate this exact point without the need to add undisclosed fraternising to the long list of charges. I did not say we could dismiss the issue."
She was lying, she had said that it was irrelevant. But Jim knew this sudden change of tactic was somehow desperate and smart at the same time, because talking his way out of it was going to be tough. From the back row McCoy was watching him tensely, and Jim met his eye and knew none of the fear he was feeling had bled through his expression when his friend nodded gravely without a trace of concern, simply in mute support.
"I am aware of the fact that Captain Kirk's private thoughts are his own and if they hadn't caused him to disobey orders I would be the first to agree that they could remain that way," Areel said with an almost apologetic look his way. Given the circumstances, Jim thought this was pretty rich. "But it is because of the way he regards his First Officer that, for some mysterious reason I'm trying to determine, we find this riveting entry on the list."
She took a datapad from her table and scrolled down for a moment before indicating the number of the entry to the jury so they could read it as well.
"Essentially, Captain Kirk beamed down to the surface of Medas XI alone, refusing to take a security team, and in violation of three different subsections of protocol, just because Mr Spock was two minutes late checking in. In his haste to get to his 'best friend,' the ship had no designated commanding officer for three full minutes right in the middle of a crisis."
For Spock two minutes was an eternity, the 'crisis' had been a temporary shuttlebay power-loss and a worried Jim was a bad, nervous Captain. But she was right this time, actually; it had turned out to be a jammed signal that impeded Spock from contacting the Enterprise with his communicator and Jim had been reckless to beam down by himself, even if at the time it had seemed like a potentially dangerous situation and he hadn't wanted anyone else to get hurt because of his stupidity. It happened two months after being given his command, and already something in Jim had been aware of Spock all the time, aware that Spock might need his help and unable to deny it.
"If you really believe the question to be oh so useless, Mr Moss, then by all means indulge me and allow Captain Kirk to answer it. He will surely prove that I'm wrong."
He was going to have to give an answer. It would look too strange if he didn't. But how to reply with the truth? Her question was well phrased and didn't exactly allow for much wriggle room.
"I'm not in the habit of 'indulging' young prosecutors in frivolous questions that are not pertinent to the case," Moss replied, but he'd lost this one and he knew it.
Emerett clanged his gavel and cleared his throat.
"Given the subject of this court martial Miss Shaw's question falls… precariously within the acceptable range, and I am afraid I cannot dismiss it. Objection overruled. Mr Kirk must answer."
Jim's brain churned over the possibilities and he licked his lips unconsciously before speaking.
"But it's a vague question," he said finally. It would buy him time to fine-tune his reply also give him a way to test Areel.
"Correct."
"Oh?" She said, managing to keep her composure somehow.
"I mean… I don't want to marry Spock, if that's what you want to know." He heard a couple of people cough in what sounded awfully like disguised laughter. Good.
The urge to sneak a glance at Spock was powerful, but Jim's wariness of what he'd see if he did was stronger. Spock could probably care less whether Jim wanted to marry him or not, he probably had a ton of women who'd kill (or otherwise cause serious bodily harm) just to marry him. In fact, Spock could probably just walk up to anyone he wanted with that neatly polite tone of his and ask them to marry him and they'd say yes if they were alive and sane.
Not that Jim cared who married Spock, not beyond the concern that was his due as Spock's Captain and maybe the healthy interest of a friend.
"Correct," the lie-detector said again. And it was; Jim didn't want to marry anyone right now.
"Well, that isn't what I want to know, Captain Kirk."
Of course it wasn't. And he couldn't afford to delay this for much longer at the risk of seeming to stall.
"Look, not that it's really any of your business, but I prefer girls."… to most guys, but apparently not to Spock. Not that anyone needed to know how that sentence ended.
"Correct."
"Again, not what I'd asked. Do you deny the desire to pursue any kind of romantic interaction with the Commander?"
When Jim sneaked a glance at Commodore Emerett, he caught a hint of chagrin in the other man's expression, undoubtedly because Areel's persistence was probably starting to seem extreme. It was going to backfire horribly on her if he could pull it off.
Encouraged by the notion, he shrugged innocently.
"I just told you—"
"You didn't, actually."
He just had to keep this up and she'd have to concede defeat. "But Spock is my subordinate, as well as my friend. And before this I'd never even heard of a rumour about us being together."
"Correct."
"And yet you've still to deny it, Captain Kirk."
Jim pretended to rub his eyes tiredly. Okay, here went nothing.
"Look, I'm not saying that Spock isn't a great guy, and I'm sure there's tons of people who like him and would happily pursue any kind of… 'interaction' with him." Me included. "But I'm his Captain, and frankly I think it would be rather unprofessional of me to act on some hypothetical desire even if I did feel it. Point is though, I don't intend to pursue any kind of relationship with him, especially given the fact that it would be unwelcome, and leave me open to a sexual harassment suit in the workplace."
There was a definite ripple of laughter at this last comment, but Jim still didn't dare glance at Spock.
"Correct."
He could tell by the look in her eye that Areel knew perfectly well how he was avoiding any sort of real answer. The problem she faced now was that besides Moss and the Commodore, no one else would. The public and the jury weren't litigation experts, and his little speech would sound exactly like a denial to them when in reality he hadn't said a single concrete fact. That is, not unless they reread the transcript and picked through the holes in his words with a fine-toothed comb.
But hopefully that wouldn't happen.
"A simple 'yes' or 'no' would have sufficed, Captain Kirk," she settled for finally, defeated. A smart parting remark, and something the sharper jury members would definitely catch, but too little too late. Jim's heart soared as he realised that it was over.
"The prosecution rests," she added, and walked back to her table, a vulnerable hunch to her shoulders that reminded Jim she was Human and just trying to do her job.
"The defense may cross-examine the testimony," Emerett said.
Moss stood up and so began what would turn out to be the easiest part of Jim's day by far. The questions were more impersonal, steering him toward the professional aspects of his job and leaving ample room for ambiguous replies that sounded stronger than they were. About ten minutes in his pulse seemed to steady and he felt much more comfortable, although he didn't cave and look at Spock once, afraid that it might break his concentration.
Moss finished the questions by asking him about the allergy incident, and Jim used the way that had been misrepresented in the report to shed doubt over the other entries on the list. It went flawlessly well, and then the Commodore declared the session closed for the day. Tomorrow would bring the start of the round of witnesses, the first of which was to be Uhura.
Jim stood up from his seat feeling like a new man; optimistic, elated and full of hope, like it might all actually work out and he'd be okay and they'd let him have his ship back, First Officer included. And Spock would never know that his Captain wanted to rake his fingers though that ridiculously neat bowl-cut hair while he sucked on his tongue.
Ehem.
Most of the jury-members were filing out and everyone else either stood to leave as well or milled about chatting, but Jim planned to drag Spock and the others into a rec room and celebrate; he could see Sulu and Scotty talking animatedly at the other end of the room and started making his way towards them. It was slow going because the narrow corridor between the rows of seats didn't provide for easy manouvreing, but midway he realised Spock would have a hard time avoiding physical contact.
So with a signal for his friends to wait up, Jim turned around, still with a good-natured mood, and walked back to the desk in front where Moss and Spock still stood.
"Hey, Spock, wanna hear my plan for—"
The expression on Spock's face as he picked up a pair of datapads made the rest of Jim's animated sentence die in his throat.
Spock looked as he always did in public, serious and retracted, maybe a bit more so than usual, but that was perfectly understandable given where they were. The problem was that he somehow reminded Jim without words (without so much as a disinterested look his way, actually) that they couldn't hang out. They couldn't go to a rec room and play, he couldn't tease the guy to make up for what he'd had to say today in front of so many people, he couldn't even smile too brightly at him anymore. Spock was, in fact, already looking past Jim and at the door, clearly waiting for the Captain to move aside so that he could leave without having to touch him.
Mood plummeting, Jim opened his mouth again to express his regret but was intercepted.
"Kirk," Moss said, appearing from behind Spock. "I need to talk to you in my office right now."
Jim frowned; Moss's stern look was suspiciously like anger. "But I thought I did well—"
"Now."
Without another word the lawyer walked away, leaving Jim staring after him in disbelief.
"What the hell was that?" he said over his shoulder to Spock. "…Spock?"
When he got no answer he turned and found Spock had walked around the desk and was heading outside.
"Sp—" Jim started to say unconsciously, then remembered himself. Spock was being smart and Jim needed to be smart too, so he cleared his throat and gave Spock a stiff nod. "See you tomorrow, Commander."
Spock paused with his hands behind his back and returned the gesture with equal professionalism. "Captain."
The only jury member who remained saw this exchange and suppressed a snort, feeling like his intelligence had just been insulted.
x
"In order to help you I need the truth!"
"I already told you—"
"No you didn't! Do you want Commander Spock to be relocated to another ship? Do you want to be charged with needlessly endangering the lives of four-hundred people…?"
"There are three-hundred and ninety-two people on my ship and I have never needlessly endangered a single one of them!"
Jim and Mr Moss were yelling at each other from opposite ends of the latter's office and it was not a pretty sight. Furious and cornered by the lawyer's accusations, the Captain was reacting the only way he knew how: a good offence was the best defence.
Jim wasn't usually one to pick these sorts of fights, but he'd blown up after Moss's third 'Mr Spock will notice he way you look at him.' Apparently the fucking idiot was convinced that Jim was, in fact, the most irresponsible Captain in the world, and had actually managed to fall for his First Officer big time.
"Just admit it, you fool!"
"Admit what? There's nothing going on between us!"
Moss's face was flushed with rage and he finally spun around and grabbed the Veritas device from behind his shelves.
"That's not what I'm asking you and you know it. There's no one else around, Captain Kirk, don't act any stupider than you are. You're terrible at it."
"Are you saying I'm an idiot or a genius?"
Moss turned on the device with a scowl. "I don't know how you do it, but you manage to be both." And then: "Nathaniel Moss, code four-eight-fifteen-sixteen."
"Confirmed."
"Scan Captain Kirk, James T.'s answers for veracity only."
"Captain Kirk, James T. located. Proceed."
"Turn that off," Jim grunted.
"Tell the truth."
Jim clenched his hands into fists and looked Moss square in the eye. "I don't love Spock."
"… Correct."
The lawyer glared at the shiny black casing incredulously. "I can't believe this."
"See? Spock is just a friend!"
"Incorrect."
Jim froze. Moss looked up at him with triumph.
"Care to say that again?"
"I…" he exhaled slowly. "We're just friends."
"Correct."
Moss snorted in derision. "That doesn't mean anything, Kirk. You couldn't deny that you wish for something more back in the courtroom and you can't say it now."
"I only want… I only see Spock as a friend."
"Incorrect."
It was Jim's turn to glare at the lie-detector.
"Useless. If you know you're lying it knows too." Moss was smiling now, but it wasn't cruel and there was more pity there than anything.
Jim craved his youth when this would be solved by punching something hard enough to break it.
"Spock and I… it's purely platonic, he means a lot to me but our friendship is the most important thing." This had to be correct, okay? He knew this was true. "I'll get over it, it's just a stupid crush with like the worst timing in history."
"…Inconclusive."
Jim stared at the device in surprise, momentarily distracted. "What's that…? I didn't know that could happen."
Moss rolled his eyes. "It means what you're saying can't be properly determined as true or false if you yourself are not sure whether it is one or the other. Extreme ambiguity can render even such a powerful mechanism useless."
Fuck, fuck. He was going to get over it eventually though, right?
"Fine. I…" He what? "I know nothing's gonna happen between us and I don't plan on trying to make it happen."
"Correct."
Moss's smile had faded but Jim hated, hated being so vulnerable here.
"Kirk—"
"Are we done?"
"No."
He gritted his teeth and stayed put. "What else?"
At least Moss had the decency to look sorry, now. "I'm sorry, but I need to establish how bad this is. This is the thing that could break your case, Kirk."
"It's really not that bad," Jim ground out, forgetting he wasn't allowed to lie. "Just give me a few days, I'll deal with it—"
"Incorrect."
He took a deep breath to try and calm down. "Okay, fine, it's pretty bad, but not beyond salvaging. I'm a big boy, Mr Moss. I… I promise it's not beyond what I can handle."
Moss turned to the lie-detector but Jim just stared firmly ahead, jaw set stubbornly and unnaturally blue eyes flashing in defiance.
"…Correct."
x
Jim ended up spending the rest of the evening in that office working with Moss around his 'little issue,' as the lawyer referred to it (which was incredibly irritating because on the one hand he did want to downplay the gravity of his attraction to Spock, and yet on the other Jim automatically scoffed at the word 'little' being associated with any part of himself). They talked with forced civility and his nerves were frayed and on edge by the time he left, but it did help him put things into focus and Moss had some good advice on how to elegantly gloss over the aspects that could hurt Jim's image.
Still, the worst had passed according to the lawyer, since Jim wouldn't be required to take the stand again unless something happened that made Moss decide to question him further.
He walked out of there quite late and having skipped dinner, but decided that he wasn't hungry and that he needed to sleep. For the first time in a very, very long time Jim found himself wishing he wouldn't see Spock before getting to his quarters. He felt strange after all that talk about feelings; wild, unpredictable, like a slightly unfocused image or a distorted mathematical formula.
Obviously, when he rounded the corner outside the turbolift of Deck 5, he discovered that Spock was standing there, looking more serious and Vulcan than ever, and talking to Stavok.
He forgot about his wired mood then. At first glance their stances mirrored each other and both seemed perfectly composed, but as he walked up to them Jim noticed several minor yet key differences. Spock was leaning every so slightly forward, his jaw clenched, and the hands he held behind his back seemed rather tense. Stavok was shorter and had to look slightly up at him, but his posture was the definition of standard and polite.
The second Jim came within hearing range Spock stopped talking mid-sentence and both Vulcans turned to face him.
"Captain," Spock said with a hint of surprise. For a moment he stared at Jim with what could be a nameless positive emotion, and then suddenly he seemed to remember they weren't alone and sharply turned to face Stavok again.
In light of the other Vulcan's presence Jim strove to keep his tone distant when he replied wearily to his First Officer's profile; "Hello, Commander." Spock kept staring forward.
With a tight smile Jim nodded at Stavok. "Good evening Mr Stavok, it's been a while."
"Six days," Stavok replied.
"Right."
Jim looked between the two men and noticed that in addition to being tense Spock was looking at Stavok with slightly narrowed, accusing eyes; a gesture that in his First Officer usually denoted anger. Had Stavok insulted him? If Amanda's name had been mentioned so help him, Jim was going to end that asshole.
"So is everything okay here?" Jim finally said in the uncomfortable silence, aware that they weren't going to offer any information unless he asked.
"Quite, Captain," Spock replied, still without turning to look at him. Stavok hadn't moved an inch; he was like a pillar.
"Indeed. May we continue our discussion now that Captain Kirk has joined us?" Stavok said to Spock. He didn't look mean or cruel at all, really; just curious.
"No," Spock said immediately. "I have no more to add."
"I see." Stavok looked Jim up and down and then cocked his head to the side to regard Spock with an unnervingly blank expression. "You concede the futility of denial, then?"
Something flashed in Spock's eyes and he took a deliberate step in front of Jim, effectively shielding him from Stavok's view.
"Spock, what—"
"It is not irrational to protect one's commanding officer," he said flatly. Jim couldn't see Spock's expression or Stavok's reaction to these words, but he suspected they were having a "Let's See Who Can Imitate The Wall Best" contest (and Stavok was winning, if Spock's tense shoulders were anything to go by).
"Even now you exemplify unbecoming behaviour. This will severely hinder your case, surely you are aware of that?"
Jim was about to retort angrily in defence of his First Officer when he realised that he was actually annoyed with Spock for being overprotective again, and Stavok had said 'unbecoming' but not 'un-Vulcan'. And Jim kind of agreed with him.
So he kept quiet for now.
"I might if it were true. However, it is not, and there is no basis to your claim—"
"You treat your Captain as one would a child."
Well, that wasn't entirely true. Yes, Jim was the first one to complain about Spock sometimes molly-coddling him, but the point was that only Jim was allowed to point that out (also Bones, who saw the opportunity to call Spock out on acting Human and seized it with gusto). And yes, Spock was a bit of a control-freak, and when combined with his deep regard for sentient life, it had resulted in having the "You are careless and illogical and risking your life is dumb, respectfully, sir" conversation more than once (except Spock hadn't said it quite like that but Jim got the gist of the thing). But when it came down to it Spock knew Jim could take care of himself. Jim wasn't Captain for nothing, after all.
He stepped around Spock to tell Stavok to back off, but the Vulcan's next pronouncement stopped him in his tracks.
"Or perhaps I am mistaken, and you treat him as one would a lover."
… What?
Where the hell had he gotten that from? What had Spock said before Jim arrived?
"You are severely mistaken," Spock said, stone-faced. Jim felt something in his chest tear slightly and hated himself for it.
"My apologies." Stavok's eyes flickered to Jim again and back to Spock. Despite the fact that his face wasn't exhibiting any more animation than his plain grey shirt, Jim felt him convey disbelief with the gesture. "I did not wish to offend you."
It was difficult to reconcile this guy to the image of Spock's mean childhood bully when Stavok seemed to be trying, in his own I-am-the-superior-Vulcan sort of way, to help. Maybe Spock had been right and his nastiness had just been something that as a kid Stavok hadn't quite been able to control.
"You are mistaken," Spock repeated. "This is not something offensive to me, merely a fact I am attempting to enable you to comprehend."
That being said, Jim was starting to sense the hidden insults under these carefully constructed phrases. So maybe this was how Vulcans argued.
"I thank you for your consideration and concern."
"Your gratitude is unnecessary," Spock said with a subtle step closer to Jim… no, in front of him. Again. "However I believe you would benefit from terminating this illogical theory."
Stavok did not look impressed. "I am needed elsewhere in any case, Mr Spock, but I would recommend you further dwell on this issue before prompting its immediate dismissal."
Spock didn't reply, he just pointedly watched Stavok leave.
A few moments after Stavok had turned the corner, Jim sighed and stepped toward his First Officer.
"What the hell was that about?"
Spock finally looked at him, but his eyes weren't even a little bit softer. Jim felt his posture straighten and his expression harden in response.
"I believe Stavok attempted to impart… advice."
Jim flashed him a sarcastic grin. "Looks like you took it well."
"His warning was based upon an erroneous premise," Spock replied stiffly.
"Yeah yeah. Listen, I need to talk to you about this overprotective business—"
"It would be prudent to discuss this at another time. You forget that we cannot be seen together, Captain," Spock interrupted him.
Jim stared at him blankly for a couple of seconds.
"Right. Okay, then I guess I'll see you tomorrow and we can pretend we barely know each other again, which you're great at by the waymph—"
A hand was clamped over his mouth and he was shoved against the wall with so much force that he saw stars.
The Vulcan had moved with such speed that Jim was completely disoriented for a few moments, heart stuttering frantically in his chest. Spock's left hand covered Jim's lips and his right one had latched, vice-like, onto his waist, but those were the only two limbs that were touching him; the rest of Spock was arched over him to restrict the amount of contact between their bodies, and still somehow very effectively pinning his body to that wall.
Jim tried to speak but Spock shook his head immediately with a non-expression that for some reason made Jim stop even though he hated a) having no idea what the fuck was going on, and b) being unsure whether or not Spock had finally gone completely insane.
They stayed perfectly still without looking into each other's eyes for an endless stretch of time. Jim was focusing with all his might on the boring line where the ceiling met the opposite wall, and not on the sensation of Spock's thumb digging painfully into the spot between two of his ribs. Spock's head was inclined slightly in the direction where Stavok had left and he seemed to be focused… listening.
After what felt like eons and seconds combined, Spock let him go and swiftly stepped away, leaving Jim to pretend he remembered how to breathe like a normal person and trying to think of kittens being killed in various evil ways.
"My apologies, Captain. I could not verbally indicate—"
"You couldn't say…"
"—the reason why you had to cease speaking. Mr Stavok was awaiting the turbolift a few paces away and could hear our conversation clearly."
"Oh."
Jim couldn't find it in him to be mad at his First Officer, and so he smiled at him instead.
"Good thinking."
Spock's eyes positively shone and he seemed extremely pleased by this praise, much more so than the situation probably warranted. Jim decided to take it as his way of apologising for before, and put the topic on hold.
"When I said we could not be seen together, I meant to suggest that we speak back in the privacy of my quarters. The turbolift is close enough to our rooms that the risk of being discovered is minimised," Spock said carefully.
"It's kind of hilarious that we have to sneak around like being friends is forbidden," Jim commented as they started walking in sync, secretly thinking that it wasn't even a little bit funny.
Spock looked at him, then at picked at a non-existent speck of dust on his sleeve. "I find it most… distasteful. I value our friendship, Jim."
Jim was not blushing, he had absolutely zero intention of blushing even a tiny bit, blushing was for people who were beyond hope and he was really, really not…
"Thanks, Spock. Me too," Jim told his shiny black boots.
They got to their adjoining quarters after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.
"So…" Jim started, feeling extremely shy for a moment before remembering that he was James T. fucking Kirk and that he was not blushing at all, nope, nor was he afraid of inviting his First Officer to his room to grab a bite to eat and maybe talk a little (and, if they were really feeling naughty, play chess even though it was theoretically forbidden).
He cleared his throat and decided to try again at the same time as Spock said:
"Jim, if you prefer I removed myself from your company—"
"Wanna come inside for dinner or something—"
They both stopped and Jim frowned. "Why would I want you to leave?" Ever?
Spock blinked and then his eyes slid away from Jim's in a gesture that suddenly reminded him of the very first day of his command, when Spock had finally accepted the position of First Officer. The Captain had been unable to bite back his huge, radiant smile and Spock had ducked his head and skirted around the emotion automatically, as though he found it unnerving to be the focus of that attention.
"Your thought processes are often a mystery to me. I thought perhaps you were having difficulty in expressing your reluctance out of consideration for my… for me."
Jim's palms tingled with the desire to grab Spock's arms and take his turn at shoving him against the wall, and he wouldn't keep away, oh no he would be all over—okay ending that thought now.
"That's just stupid, Spock."
Spock's eyes did that shining thing again like he was secretly proud or something and it was adorable, and the annoying tingle was turning into an itch, because the corner of Spock's mouth had this tiny, tiny little curve upward that meant he was happy.
"In that case, I would be amenable to your suggestion."
"Awesome. Come in, then."
During the meal they both made a silent pact to stay away from the topic of Stavok and it passed quite amicably. There was only one weirdly tense moment when Jim took off his uncomfortable ceremonial shirt without, admittedly, much of a warning, and Spock had flared his nostrils and sharply looked away (you'd think Jim had mortally offended the guy or something) and didn't meet Jim's eye until he was wearing his black undershirt.
After eating, though, Jim thought it was time to have this argument once and for all.
"So… Stavok is definitely the guy from your school, right?" he said lightly while he threw the dishes and cutlery into their respective containers to be sterilised and then reused.
The easy, comfortable mood vanished the second he mentioned Stavok's name, and Spock stiffened visibly.
"Yes. However, he is not to be trusted."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Who said anything about trusting him?"
For a second fierce satisfaction (or was that relief?) animated Spock's face, but he quickly schooled his features into neutrality once more.
"But he doesn't seem evil or anything," Jim continued. "In fact he seems fine to me. Saner than you back then, too."
Spock gave him a stony, unimpressed look. "I believe that it is in your best interests to stay away from him."
"But why? See, this is what I'm talking—"
"He already appears to have made a favourable impression upon you." The words were clipped and Jim could tell that Spock was already annoyed, even angry. His reaction made no sense whatsoever.
"…Is that supposed to be a reason? He seems okay, yeah, and you yourself said I should forget about him being a mean kid. How do you get from there to 'stay away from him?'"
"You cannot understand… it is in your best interests not to see him anymore."
The last plate clattered down the recycling chute and Jim ground his teeth in frustration. "But why? Did he try to read my mind back there?"
"No… Jim, I am merely concerned for your well-being."
"Yeah, you keep saying that," Jim said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the table.
Spock stood up from his seat rigidly. "It is the truth."
"Well, I'm not yours to protect." He realised how close this sounded to the dark, dark secret that crept between his lungs. "I mean, that's not your job."
"I believed we were friends," Spock said, eyes flashing.
Jim took a step forward. "We are friends. But nothing more. So it's… it's unfair for you to suddenly act like…" he trailed away, unsure as to where the sentence had been going.
Spock stepped back, and for the first time in a very long time his face was completely alien to Jim, stony and cold.
"You believe Stavok's suggestion?" His tone was flat and perfectly controlled. "That I regard you with undue… emotion?"
Jim's chest ached like a motherfucker but this was good, this would help with the forgetting, the letting go that needed to happen any day now.
"Of course not," he retorted. "That's ridiculous."
"Then I—"
Suddenly Spock's expression shifted and his eyes darted to the ceiling. Jim's defensive anger screeched to a halt, and he frowned in confusion.
"What is it?"
"Be silent," Spock instructed him immediately. This once Jim did as he was told but he took another step toward Spock, who was standing still as a perfect statue.
After a couple of seconds he heard a low sound… like the faint hiss of compressed air from a release valve, except it was coming from somewhere above them.
Jim looked up, trying to spot the source. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, couldn't hear more than that little innocent noise. Spock's eyebrows were drawn together in concentration and he looked almost worried.
"Hey…" Jim whispered. "Is something wrong?"
"I do not know."
The Vulcan took Jim's arm and Jim was so surprised by this casual touch that he let himself be steered behind Spock before he knew what was happening.
"Stop doing that," he snapped, trying to wrench free of Spock's grip.
"Something is—"
And then the low hiss became abruptly much louder, and smoke started coming out of the vent near the ceiling. Except that nothing smelled like it was burning.
"… What's happening?" Jim said, taking a step backwards.
Spock was looking intently at the smoke slowly filling the room. "I do not know. It appears to be gaseous and it is potentially noxious. Securing a sample would probably be harmful." His science officer sounded like he was considering being put out that he couldn't study it, although he had put a hand on Jim's chest and was pushing him toward the door. Jim went without protest, eyes glued to the vent and registering several stray facts that he knew he'd probably need for later: the smoke was odourless, it was denser than air because he could see it flowing down, and it appeared to be leaving a black dust coating on the higher shelves… holy shit.
The top shelf was crumbling.
"Spock, it's not a gas! It's some kind of suspension of an acidic compound—!"
"Shut your mouth, Jim," Spock said quickly, giving Jim a hard shove backwards. But it was too late; the smoke had reached them and Jim realised it had been a literal instruction the moment he felt the substance come into contact with his skin.
"Ow! Fuck!"
It burned white-hot and incredibly painful, making blood well up instantly on his arms. Jim started backing away in earnest, grabbing Spock's sleeve to pull the Vulcan after him, all the while feeling the the burn of the powder like pinpricks of fire all over his body and even through his clothes.
"Spock, let's go, come on!"
Spock spun around and the next thing Jim knew, his gravity center shifted and he was being grabbed around the waist and roughly thrown over Spock's shoulder, the air whooshing out of his lungs. He coughed painfully and felt the poisonous substance scorch his throat.
"Put me down!" Jim ordered, his voice scraped raw. Whatever this was he knew it would be a very, very bad thing if it entered his bloodstream, but Spock was in danger too.
"Spock for fuck's sake, put me down right now!" The anger at being rendered so useless swelled like an unstoppable force, but the grip on him only tightened as Spock crossed the room in long-legged strides and stopped with a bone-jarringly abrupt motion once they'd reached the door between their quarters. Jim tried to squirm out of his arms again but was unsuccessful; he could feel his circulation being cut off in the places where Spock's fingers were tight around his flesh.
"Spock I swear, if you don't—mph!" A hand was clamped over his mouth for the second time in the past hour and the door opened. The air in Spock's quarters tasted pure and clean, thank goodness, and Jim saw the interconnecting door shut before any of that smoke could get inside.
Then the panel to the bathroom swished open and Jim was thrown bodily into the antique tub.
He landed with a grunt of pain that quickly turned into a yelp of surprise when a cascade of water on his face made him splutter and cough, and suddenly Spock was trying to violently wrestle him out of his clothes and Jim couldn't stop coughing and he couldn't see and he was dizzy.
The agony from his wounds ebbed as the powder started to wash away but Jim didn't care about that, all he cared about was Spock, always, Spock, who may be able to make himself unfeeling to the pain but that didn't mean anything; this was a toxic chemical and he could very well die.
"Spock—" Jim managed to say in between hacking gasps. "Spock, stop it—"
The Vulcan had fisted his fingers around the fabric of his black undershirt in a way that seemed to suggest that he was quite ready to rip it off if necessary, and he obviously wasn't planning on listening to reason.
"Dammit Spock, come on!"
But Spock was unmoved. Jim tried to slap him but only succeeded in getting a cuff-shaped bruise on his wrist when Spock locked his thumb and index fingers around it (Jim's ego also took a severe blow at the insulting ease with which Spock did this, but that was a matter for later).
Not one to give up easily, Jim bit the exposed back of Spock's pale hand hard enough that Spock let him go, eyes wide with surprise and anger.
"Jim—"
"You're hurt too, you need to clean—"
"Be still."
"Fuck you, I'm trying to save your life—"
Spock pushed him down but Jim just clenched his stomach muscles and tried to sit up again, and soon this had become something that didn't even remotely resemble a team effort so much as a fight as they both tore at each other and struggled with the clingy, now completely sodden, material.
Finally Jim managed to get some leverage by playing dirty and hooking one hand around the waistband of Spock's trousers, then giving it a hard yank that made Spock stumble forward and nearly pitch into the tub. There was a loud, guttural growl that he'd already half-expected and then Jim put all his strength behind another, stronger tug and Spock crashed sideways onto him, once again knocking the breath out of his chest but this time with his full weight. Oof, Spock was heavy.
"You cannot die—" Spock began furiously, fingers immediately scrabbling for black fabric of his shirt and tugging at it with ruthless strength.
"Shut up. No one's going to die if you just let me help."
Rivulets of water ran down Spock's body and fleetingly Jim recalled his dreams; fantasies of having Spock in the shower with him, of kissing Spock's cheekbones right where the rivulets of water from his eyelashes trailed down and of being licked by a fever-hot tongue and then being taken…
This was as far from that as it could get.
Green blood was trailing down Spock's arms and staining the Vulcan's formal clothes, so Jim started to tear the collar off with brusque movements. He was relieved when Spock, after an instant's pause, let him, if only to better access Jim's own. The black shirt was rendered into strips and thrown carelessly over the side of the tub at the same time as Jim finally managed to rip open Spock's silver collar and expose his creamy greenish-white neck and torso.
"Jim, you must—"
"Quiet," he instructed. "Help me out with this."
Since there was no time for arguing Spock complied by letting Jim pull the garment down his arms, then returned to the attack raising Jim's legs by the knee and tugging off his black boots. Unfortunately, the Vulcan's strength caught him off-balance and Jim banged his head against the edge of the tub. "Ow. Fuck—"
Spock's eyes darted up to assess the damage and back to his task once he decided Jim would not, in fact, die.
At least not from a blow to the head.
"Wait, Spock, let me—"
"That is not necessary."
Every second that passed meant more blood mixed with the water and when the fastening of Jim's pants proved difficult Spock made an impatient noise at the back of his throat and Jim, without even thinking twice about it, pulled them down, leaving him only in his pale grey briefs. This was about survival. They could die. There was no time for thinking.
The water had started out ice-cold but was now near boiling, just like Spock's body (Spock's half-naked body) which pressed, uncomfortably hot, against Jim's skin. He ignored this, however, as he blindly knocked a bottle of soap inside and then started to frantically rub Spock's arms and chest with it.
"Jim, an unknown reaction with the substance—"
"It'll work. Shut up."
He pushed Spock backwards so the Vulcan was sitting down and leaned forward, knowing even as he did so that this was something that Spock had allowed, and not entirely Jim's to control.
Soon his hands were sliding over the smooth marble skin, creating foam and bubbles that made Spock glisten and shine. But what Jim was intent on was catching those flecks of green blood and washing away the streaks of black that Spock still had all over him. Water fell into Jim's eyes from his dripping hair but he merely flicked his head like a dog and continued his task.
Immediately after making sure that there was no chemical reaction with the soap, Spock had copied his gestures; hot hands slipped over Jim's broad shoulders and neck, his chest, then down the sides of his torso, his waist, his hipbones. Jim was busy enough trying to do the same that he could ignore the way Spock's touch was rough and much, much too good.
Patches of Spock's sleek black hair were singed and more green blood seeped out when his head went under the the faucet, but the damage wasn't too bad and all this did was make his bowl-cut look more messy.
"Good," Jim muttered absent-mindedly, massaging the scalp to make absolutely sure. "Okay, now turn around—"
"No," Spock interrupted, pulling Jim's hands away from his hair in a quick move. "You have now finished helping me and I am done indulging this."
And it was at that moment, a mere millisecond after reassuring himself that Spock might not be in terrible danger after all, that Jim looked down to realise that he had practically climbed on top of the other man's lap. And Spock was wearing nothing but black underwear in stark contrast to his creamy skin… his body covered in foam, wet everywhere…
"I-I don't… w-what…?" he stuttered, unable to tear his gaze away from the curves and sinews so beautifully exposed in this ruthless, neon-white light.
Perhaps taking advantage of Jim's temporary failure at thinking, Spock grabbed his arms and, in a sudden movement that left Jim reeling, stood up dragging Jim with him and slammed his back against the wall.
A second later Jim was pinned by Spock's elbow digging into his windpipe so that he could barely breathe.
"Spock—" he choked. "What the fu—"
"Understand this; I can incapacitate you," Spock said, quick and deliberate, obviously eager to get to the point. Jim really hoped the point was not to kill him. "Therefore, it is illogical for you to attempt to move, or escape, or ensure I am healed before you are. I may simply overpower you. Do you understand?"
Jim nodded, unable to speak, and realised he could see a smear of black down the back of Spock's neck. When he feebly tried to reach for it, to wipe it away, Spock shoved him against the wall again.
"Spock!"
"Stop," Spock ordered firmly. "We will contact the Hospital Bay immediately after I have ensured that you are unhurt and temporarily not at risk. Stop and remain still or we shall run out of time."
With a surge of outrage Jim realised that his toes were barely brushing the floor of the tub.
"We're wasting time… right now," he grunted.
"Then do not move. Do not move, Jim." Spock's voice had gone lower and sharper, and it reminded Jim of that time so long ago when he had said 'Back away from me', except that now he was saying the opposite.
All right, it was time to face the facts (until he could come up with a way of dodging them). Spock was stronger and could easily overpower him, therefore it made sense to stop struggling. Jim went limp and pliant in Spock's arms.
The Vulcan wasted no time in setting him down and grabbed the bottle of soap. Without preamble he began cleaning Jim's wounds methodically; the worst being the bleeding on his hands and forearms, when he must have instinctively raised them to protect his eyes from the dust.
The problem was, however, that some of the black powder had accumulated in the waistband of Jim's briefs instead of washing away, dying them darker around the edges. When Spock noticed this his movements halted abruptly, like someone had pressed a 'pause' button in his brain.
"Uh…"
Normally Jim would have just taken them off. Awkward, yes, amazingly so. But hey, what's a little awkward when it's life and death?
However when Vulcans, touch-telepathy, water and soap were involved, nakedness suddenly seemed like the more daunting option.
"Look… I'll…"
He was diverted from his attempt at composing a coherent sentence when he saw a bead of emerald blood roll down Spock's chin, mixing with the water. He wiped it away with a soapy hand and tried to get back to before, when the rush and the frenzy of what needed to be done had helped him forget what he was actually doing, but it was impossible. He needed to get away. The worst of the threat was over, and the potential for disaster of a very different kind seemed to be growing with every passing second.
"I think I should go now," he said firmly. "We both need a proper decontamination shower."
Spock just kept staring dumbly at the twin lines of taut muscle that started at Jim's stomach and then dipped under the elastic of his underwear.
"Spock. Sickbay. I'm leaving."
He took a step back and Spock's eyes flew up to meet his, expression completely unreadable but not blank; instead, it was charged with something impossible to identify. If Jim had to choose an emotion it would perhaps be fury, which was just crazy.
He was about to gingerly step out of the space, trying not to slide too clumsily, when he saw it.
Green blood, a lot of it, was pooling at Spock's feet. In a flash Jim remembered that panicked moment; Spock with his back to the vent, that awful sound, and then the burning pain all over.
"Turn around," he said.
Spock's eyes widened marginally and he almost seemed to not understand what Jim was saying.
"Spock, turn around, you're hurt."
Something must have happened in the past few seconds because instead of arguing again Spock did as he was told. Jim swore when he saw what was revealed; Spock's shoulderblades and spine looked horribly scraped, and there was green everywhere.
"Dammit, Spock," he muttered softly.
He grabbed the shower head and washed the black dust from the wounds as best as he could, but soon realised a dermal regenerator would definitely be necessary.
"Okay, we should… we should go now."
When Spock turned back to face him his expression was completely shuttered again, but he caught Jim's left wrist to stop him.
"A moment, Jim. You seem to have powder in your hair still."
Jim was actually aware of this but his sudden urge to get as far away from Spock as he could was warring with his (admittedly very, very poor) self-preservation instincts. And the urge to run was obviously winning, even though Jim usually hated doing so.
"No, it's okay, I'll just—"
"Do not be illogical, Jim."
And without giving him another second to protest Spock reached up and started massaging his scalp, fingers digging deeply into it to get rid of the powder. Jim felt his breath hitch and his pulse race even more frantically than before when he'd thought they might die; Spock's hands felt so amazing and he could feel a low groan threatening to escape his throat…
With a start he remembered where he was and what was happening. Shit. Well. Okay, so he'd discovered a hitherto unknown erogenous zone, but this was not the time to get carried away. With fresh determination in mind, Jim clenched his hands into fists, willing his libido to calm the fuck down because otherwise Spock was going to feel it, Spock was going to know… Spock was caressing the spot behind Jim's ear with his thumb and Jim's toes were curling with pleasure…
"Spock, stop it," he gasped.
"You could injure—"
"I'm serious, cut it out," he said angrily. He could feel the warmth in his stomach start to pool lower…
"Jim—"
"No—"
Their eyes locked, Spock's hands still fisted in Jim's hair, and for a moment it was all Jim could do not to lunge forward. His entire body ached for it.
"Spock, I…"
Jim saw it the moment the realisation dawned on Spock.
Understanding widened his black eyes and made his long-fingered hands fall from Jim's head down to his shoulders. Their faces were so close but all this did was make it easier for Jim to read the fear in Spock's eyes.
An ice-cold stab of agony worse than anything Spock had ever made him feel before pierced his gut. It was exactly as bad as he'd predicted.
"I… I'm sorry," Jim said stupidly. "I-I didn't mean to…"
He tried to tell himself it could have been worse. It could have been disgust. Really, it could have been even more heart-wrenchingly painful. But the way Spock was looking at him…
"Jim."
Spock's lips were wet and glistening. Jim's tongue unconsciously reached out to moisten his own, the desire roaring in his ears.
"I'll go… just let me go and I'll get out. I'm sorry."
Spock's hands slid down his arms but instead of leaving they remained wrapped around Jim's wrists. Jim couldn't bring himself to look up at Spock's eyes again, to see that fear again, so instead he watched the water pool in the hollows of Spock's throat and collarbone and wanted to drink it, drink it all up.
"Spock, come on, we should—"
"Jim. Apologising is illogical."
Still staring fixedly at Spock's neck, Jim frowned. He had spent quite a bit of time with Spock since getting his command (probably a lot) and slowly, over the course of their various missions, had filed away in his mind the different tones of voice his First Officer adopted for future reference. Jim had thought, until now, that he was familiar with all the different ways Spock had for calling him "reckless idiot" without actually going out and saying it. All the little inflections or catches in his voice that masked a very well-hidden pain, be that physical or mental. He had even learned to identify the slightly sarcastic, warm tone Spock might sometimes slip up and use when he was joking.
But he did not recognize this voice.
"I… I know."
"Then do not."
Jim gave his arm a feeble tug.
"Spock come on, let go of me—"
"I… cannot."
"What the hell does that mean?" Jim snapped, angry now. And in that anger he finally found the courage to look up.
Spock's eyes were fixed on his lips.
The fear was still there. In fact, it seemed to be even more obvious than before and now it looked like positive terror, but the way Spock's pupils had dilated hugely fuelled the tempestuous emotions rampaging through Jim's arteries.
"What?" Jim whispered sharply.
Spock reached out with one finger and wiped at a spot at the corner of Jim's mouth. The moment their skins touched Jim felt all of Spock's contorted tension as though it had flowed into him as well, making every muscle in his body clench, making him inhale roughly.
"Be careful not to consume any of the substance," the Vulcan murmured.
Oh. Oh. Okay, of course Spock had just been saving his life again even right after he'd realised that Jim not-so-secretly wanted to jump him right now in this bathtub despite the fact that they were in a terribly dangerous situation.
"Sorry," he breathed, except he hadn't realised Spock's finger was still sort of between his lips and so his tongue accidentally licked it.
Spock's hand was snatched back lightning-fast but something happened to Jim when he saw the way Spock's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. His arm shot out and their palms smacked together, and suddenly he could have sworn that Spock entwined their fingers on purpose and Jim would never know which one of them was the first to move but...
Their lips met.
It made his brain white-out and a surge of adrenalin shoot through his whole body, from the strength with which Spock's fingers were pressing against his back to the way his tongue thrust into Jim's mouth. It was so good, it was too good and he heard himself moan greedily when Spock pulled him by his hair and used his superior strength to smash his back against the wall (yet again), still without breaking the kiss.
He'd never felt this before, it had never been like this with anyone; so desperate and necessary, necessary if Jim was to keep living—
When Spock pulled back abruptly Jim leaned forward with a noise of protest, trying to follow him unthinkingly, why was it over already, too soon, no, more, he wanted more… before he caught himself and opened his eyes.
"Ah," he said eloquently.
The water kept falling down in a steady stream.
"So… you're not quite as heterosexual as I thought."
Jim heard himself whisper, voice still rasping and breathing in short pants, but for a few precious, wonderful moments he was convinced that he hadn't actually said that and it was just his crazy imagination playing tricks on him.
Spock just stared at him, which confirmed it, and Jim couldn't believe he'd just shoved his foot in his mouth quite so spectacularly.
"Spock, I—"
Suddenly Spock let go of him as though his skin was on fire and leapt agilely out of the tub, sending water everywhere.
Once a few safe meters were between them the Vulcan squared his shoudlers and turned to face Jim, who remained exactly where he'd been left; soaked, panting, and in his thin, thin underwear.
"Sickbay," Spock blurted. It didn't sound like everything Spock normally said; calm, well thought-out, rational. It made Jim's pulse race, the way Spock couldn't seem to look him in the eye. "We must… go, before there is any damage."
Jim tried to find words to say that would make sense if put together in a sentence but this was way harder than it looked.
"Spock… wait—"
"If you wish we may discuss this incident at a later date, and you have my apologies for my unprofessional behaviour. Right now it is imperative that we procure medical assistance."
Incident.
With deliberate determination Spock looked away and walked to his wardrobe. Jim was tossed a science uniform shirt and boots, which he caught with his head still spinning. Then Spock was dressed far too quickly and he wasn't wearing his black undershirt, so the blue material lay directly over the flushed pale greenish tinge of his skin.
Unable to do anything but stare, Jim did so (well, that and he also dripped). When Spock noticed this he gave a low grunt and threw him a pair of black regulation pants that slapped Jim square in the face and served to wake him up.
"Ow."
"We must depart immediately."
Jim stepped out of the tub and looked around for a towel, realised Spock hadn't used one and this meant they really were in a hurry, and started to dress himself.
Apparently, however, Jim's movements were too slow for Spock's liking, so the Vulcan stepped toward him and yanked the shirt down over his head. Despite the fact that they did indeed need to leave immediately, Jim couldn't help but notice that as Spock helped him put his clothes on he lacked the earlier enthusiasm from when he was taking them off.
"I can dress myself, you know," he said when Spock's hand reached to straighten his shirt. Their eyes met and for just one moment both stopped moving.
Spock's pupils still looked abnormally large.
"Very well," the Vulcan replied curtly, and stepped away. Jim instantly missed the contact but instead of letting any of that show he coolly stepped into his boots and strode to the door.
"Do you have a communicator? I want to page Bones on the way." Spock didn't answer, but when Jim turned to berate him for it the expression he caught on his First Officer made his mouth go suddenly dry. "… Spock?"
Spock was looking at his own science-blue uniform on Jim in an approving, satisfied sort of way that really made Jim want to take it off again…
But instead he had to be the sane adult here. "Spock. Snap out of it."
Spock did, with a glare at his Captain that did not help.
"Hospital Bay," Jim enunciated loudly and clearly. Spock seemed positively offended at the suggestion that he'd been anything less than completely professional.
"I was merely assessing the extent of your physical injuries—"
"Sure you were. And my face is up here."
If he could have, Spock would have scoffed. "You are mistaken—"
"You are a liar."
Spock pursed his lips and Jim wanted to laugh hysterically, then launch himself at his First Officer and wrestle him to the floor.
"We must go, now."
Jim nodded and stepped outside, Spock at his heels.
When he turned left instead of right toward the turbolift, Spock stopped.
"Captain, what…?"
"I need to seal my room," Jim explained quickly, typing the lock-combination on the panel outside his quarters. The door seemed solid enough but it was better to take no chances, and they'd need to contact Engineering, Maintenance, and especially Commodore Emerett just as soon as they got to the Hospital Deck.
"Captain, please—"
"Almost done."
Spock's tense, pinched face seemed to soften microscopically. "Jim. It is possible you could suffer severe chemical intoxication."
Jim finished and suddenly whirled and sprinted toward the turbolift, his speed obviously taking Spock by surprise.
"Come on, Spock, you're slowing me down!" he called, leaving the anxiety and panic behind to deal with later.
When he looked back he didn't see Spock, and slowed his steps, confused… only to whip his head around and see his First Officer run past him.
x
Inside the turbolift, the tension in the air made it dense and hard to swallow. Anxiety and panic hadn't enjoyed being abandoned and so had happily caught up with Jim.
He didn't know what was happening except that Spock might not be completely heterosexual but he sure as hell wasn't interested, not that it would be a good thing if he was because hello, on trial here. And so what if something deep down in Jim's chest region seemed intent on doing little flip-flops of joy? They could be perfectly mature about this. It had been a life-or-death situation and the rush of it turning out to be the former and not the latter explained what had happened. They could move on.
Or Spock could move on and Jim could pine a little bit more and maybe get off on this memory a couple of times before moving on as well.
"If something positive is to be extracted from tonight's events, Jim…" it's that I finally know what your mouth tastes like and it's amazing. "… it is that we now know that you are not, in fact, the victim of an increasingly improbable statistical likelihood."
Jim looked sideways at Spock's still-wet, shining skin and sighed.
"Nope. And neither are you."
Unspoken but very clear, one thought remained.
The accidents, the 'bad luck'… it had all been intentional. Someone wanted them dead.
DUN, DUN, DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
I'm actually kind of (REALLY VERY A LOT) nervous about this one… *frets* But you guys have been AMAZEBALLS (LOOKIT, I LEARNED A NEW WORD! :D) so far, seriously, I'm just stunned by your awesomeness! *group hug of JOY*