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Chapter Nineteen: Ridendo Dicere Verum
"Maybe you should talk to him."
Yes. Well.
The way Jim figured this, they'd tried the not talking thing. For, like, a day and a half. And it had sucked. Spock had nearly died of it and taken some poor innocent girl with him.
He just... seeing Spock half-dead yesterday had torn something inside of him. Jim was almost sure that it had happened some time during those minutes of righteous fury by Spock's bedside. He'd been prepared to bottle stuff up, you see; to look the other way and basically do the mental equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears and yelling 'lalalala can't hear you!'. But Spock's battered body; that boneless, pliant sort of exhaustion in it that wouldn't even let him lift his hand... he just didn't think he could pretend, and he wasn't so sure about it being a great idea anymore.
And in spite of all of the above, Jim would have still waited if it weren't for what happened that morning.
"Leave."
What the hell was wrong with Spock that he'd snarled at Uhura, of all people? This thing between them... he didn't even know what it was. And ignoring an unknown was a hell of a lot harder than shutting out the truth, Jim was certain.
He could do it, shut it out, whatever it was. He didn't doubt his capacity for barreling through whatever emotional brick wall came up next; he'd had a lifetime's worth of training, after all. Unrequited... whatever thing-he-was-totally-manfully-avoiding right now? Cakewalk. He could take anything; from Spock telling him that he'd sensed the depth of Jim's feelings (and would Jim please keep the mushier stuff in his own head, thank you very much) to a flat out rejection, to offering his help in the form of staying out of the way, if Spock would prefer rebuilding his mental shields or whatever it was that had weakened in relation to Jim.
But they needed to set things straight (so to speak), and do it soon. Because what couldn't happen was another incident like the one today, that much was clear. Not only was it bad for their friends, the people around them, but the trial. Spock's testimony was vital, and it was happening in no time and if they lost Jim would never see him again. Spock would be reassigned and Jim would be forced to pick someone to try and fill the space Spock occupied so neatly and efficiently (and, let us face it; pretty entertainingly whenever he bent over his console) and of course he would fail, and one can technically sit in his Captain's chair and brood for as long as he pleases but it wouldn't be very seemly.
So Stavok had just provided the perfect way, and Jim was a seize-your-moment kind of guy; even if this particular seizing was more of a 'seize the chance to rationally talk about their feelings' deal which, while being the responsible and mature and adult thing to do, still kind of freaked Jim out (because it was the responsible and mature thing to do, which meant Jim was the one being responsible and mature).
He took out his communicator and dialed a code.
"Captain," Spock replied almost immediately. His tinny voice out of the weak microphone rang a little in the large conference room that Jim had chosen for their conversation. Jim was sitting on the table that used up more than seventy percent of the space, his legs resting on the chair in front of him.
"Hi, Spock."
There was an awkward silence.
It had been easy to access the computer locator software from here and after checking there were no meetings planned, that was exactly what he'd done. Stavok had been perfectly right; it had taken Jim about half an hour to program the ghost-patterns that would confuse the program into thinking he and Spock were somewhere else (somewhere else that was far from each other). He just... didn't know how to tell Spock, how to phrase it exactly right. Because 'we can be alone together if you want' wasn't right at all. Neither was 'no one will know where we are for as long as it takes.'
"Leave," the Vulcan had snarled, possessive and angry and territorial.
Jim shivered a little, even though it wasn't cold inside the room. It was perfect body-temperature, like every room in the Starbase except for the labs and greenhouses.
"Um, so we should talk."
After a short pause Spock replied with a hint of apprehension in his tone. "I believed our agreement to extend until the end of our stay and the trial, Captain."
"That was before you scared Uhura this morning," Jim said. "What the hell was that?"
"I... am sorry." Spock's voice turned deep and soft. Jim ran a hand through his hair.
"She was frightened of you, do you get that?"
"I have already spoken with her—"
"And you're planning on testifying with that attitude?"
"I committed a grievous error. However, I am entirely capable of—"
"No, I don't trust your judgment on that so much, not unless you can convince me otherwise. Now. When we talk."
There was another pause.
"You wish to conduct this particular conversation via communicator?" Spock asked. He sounded clinical and businesslike, and Jim was pretty sure it was all a front.
"Nope. Meet me at the conference room in Deck 16."
He hung up before Spock could argue or point out the obvious flaw in Jim's plan.
x
"We cannot be seen together. This is reckless."
Spock's eyes were dark and his face was very pale in the bright lights, the silver collar of his dress-shirt for once looking a little too tight, like he was about to choke on it. And even though his words were perfectly true and he didn't know about Jim's plan, he had walked inside and let the door slide shut behind him. He trusted his Captain that much. Or maybe this irrational trust (this faith) came from friendship, Jim wasn't sure which, but it made his stomach flip either way.
"I took care of it," Jim said, jumping lightly off the table.
Spock quirked an eyebrow and looked him up and down, as though he was expecting his Captain to be hiding the secret behind his back or in a pocket (which, for the record, his dress-uniform for the trial didn't have pockets). "How?"
"It was thanks to Stavok, actually."
Spock's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"Well, it was Stavok's idea. I did the actual hacking of the thing. Look, that's not what's important right now."
Spock had looked like he was considering getting stubborn, or at the very least annoyed, over the whole 'Stavok' aspect of things, but when Jim said those last words he relented.
"Very well, I agree."
The Vulcan walked into the room until he stood not far from where Jim was leaning against the table. As he got closer, Jim noted a slight green flush on Spock's cheeks that looked more feverish than healthy, and surprised himself by wanting to plant a silly, chaste kiss on Spock's nose.
The urge was harmless, a stray thought like the many others he'd already had regarding Spock before. But for some reason the utter ridiculousness of it; the randomness, the way he would have bestowed the gesture like a familiar, ordinary thing; the way he wanted to do it and to be allowed to do it and to be expected to—
It was in that moment right there that he realized with the steady, unwavering certainty of the man who knows he is doomed that despite the warnings, the blaring signs he'd had more than enough time to interpret, the clues, the total insane idiocy of it, the impossibility of it, the way it would ruin what little stability they had left...
Despite everything, he'd managed to fall in love with Spock anyway.
"Uh."
The soft syllable spilled from his lips unconsciously, an involuntary sound that had started out as an exhale and gotten caught in his choked throat.
Spock heard him, of course.
"Captain? Is something wrong?"
Where to begin with that one.
Oh God, I'm in love with you, he thought, panicky and shocked.
"I... no. I don't... um..." he trailed off.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, he'd done it. There was no way he could fuck this up any more, he was in love with Spock. Not that he had any other experience as a frame of reference, because he'd never felt anything as terrifying and huge as this, but... there was a sort of heaviness in his bones, a sort of abrupt certainty.
"Are you feeling okay?" he said, speaking mainly to stop his head from spinning. The flush hadn't left Spock's face. "You look kind of… sick."
"I feel no pain, Captain."
They both regarded each other warily, uncertain and uneven-footed, which Jim noted sadly was par for the course of late.
"You sure?"
Spock was lying. Jim was perfectly aware of this, because if there was one emotion he thought was universal to all Vulcans (and it was definitely the one emotion they couldn't suppress successfully at all) that was pride.
Maybe teasing would help? A joking atmosphere to stifle the current thrumming under Jim's skin?
He grinned slyly and stepped forward. "No pain at all, huh? So if I were to, you know..." Excitement like an electric thrill shot through him and suddenly he was standing alarmingly close to Spock and when had that even happened? All that space (safety in space, distance) now gone, eaten up by Jim's hungry steps and Spock's shallow breathing.
I think I love you, he thought, wonderingly.
And then he realized what he was doing.
"Forget it. Sorry."
Jim hastily backed away until he felt the edge of the table against the back of his thighs again. Businesslike it was, then. No jokes. Bad Kirk. No flirting for you.
"Listen, Spock, about this morning... are you completely sure it won't happen again?"
Spock blinked.
"I trust you," Jim said before his first officer could respond. And I think I love you. I'm, like, really kind of sure. "But this is serious. Dangerous, I mean, especially if you won't tell me what it is and I can't really get a grip on the situation."
For a very long moment Spock just looked at him, his eyes dark and calculating but with an edge of... anger?
"No," he said finally.
Jim swallowed. "No?"
"No, I am not completely sure that a similar circumstance will not occur again," Spock said, voice smoky and low. "In fact, it is entirely possible that it will. It is not something I can control to the fullest of my ability."
"Oh." Jim's pulse was throbbing in his wrists, hands clenched into fists because he didn't want to make an idiot of himself by reaching forward and maybe... tugging. "...Why?"
"I have told you before, yet you might as well be blind and deaf when it comes to these matters. I know that you are not unintelligent, and yet."
Jim raised his eyebrows, surprised at the abrupt change of tone. "Excuse me?"
"Anger is difficult to contain around you, Jim. Especially in situations like the one this morning, when I was—"
"I knew it!" Jim interrupted accusingly, body heating in a rush. "I knew you were in pain!"
"Pain?" Spock would have scoffed if he weren't, well, Spock. "It was not because of pain."
"Right, of course. What was it then?"
"Are you truly ignorant?" Spock asked, head tilting ever-so-slightly with genuine confusion. Irritation and exasperation were also involved, or at least as far as Jim could tell from Spock's pitch-black eyes.
"Look, enough with the 'Jim is dumb' jokes, okay?" Jim grit his teeth, starting to get properly annoyed. "No, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, just tell me already. Uhura looked freaked and she wouldn't tell me and I... I wanna know. Tell me."
Spock sat down on the chair conveniently positioned behind him, hands coming to rest on his thighs in a deliberate way that inexplicably made Jim think he wasn't the only one restraining himself from reaching out.
"I had never intended for you to know," Spock said, every syllable leaving his mouth carefully, delicately as though the words might shatter any second.
"Know what?" Jim asked, taking a step closer and unconsciously leaning down. Spock's hands raked up his thighs, fingers digging in and he looked away, taking a deep and slightly shaky breath.
"Shit," Jim said, eyes wide. "Shit, Spock, what's wrong?"
This was it. This was the moment, the culmination, the conclusion. When all those little signs, and the lack of sleep, and the lapses and the moments when Spock's usual disciplined restraint slipped... when it all finally came together in one, simple, understandable explanation.
Finally.
... Except Spock wasn't saying anything.
"Spock. I'm your friend, right? Tell me what's wrong."
Jim moved forward until he stood right in front of the Vulcan, brow creased with compassion, and he didn't see Spock's knuckles whiten as his hands spasmed at their sudden proximity, bunching up the black material of his pants, because he was too busy tracking the tiny giveaway signs of Spock's face.
"What were you about to say, before?"
Spock hadn't looked up yet. "When?" he asked, sharp.
"You said you found it hard to contain your anger especially in situations like this morning, when you were... what? If not in pain, what?"
Spock clenched his jaw. Jim looked down at him and saw, with weirdly detached horror, as his own index finger gently reached toward Spock and tilted his chin up to face him.
"Answer me." He'd meant it as a suggestion, or maybe an encouraging comment, but it came out all twisted; a combination of his Captain's voice and rough throat turning two words into a dirty command.
He didn't lower his hand, either; that one burning point of contact between them feeling like a white-hot brand.
Spock's eyes had snapped up to meet his. His pupils were saucer-wide, eating up at the irises and making him look drugged. Except, when he replied, his voice was under rigid control.
"I was challenged."
Jim waited, but Spock glared defiantly at him and didn't add anything to clarify his statement.
"You were challenged. By Uhura."
"It is to do with the vestiges of rituals and traditions lost thousands of years ago, you cannot—"
"Don't."
"You were not meant to find out," Spock repeated. Jim crooked his finger so his nail dug into Spock's neck, and he was angry again.
"Why?" he growled.
"This information will in no way aid our—"
"Why?"
Spock clenched his jaw. "I did not wish to burden you with the knowledge of the things I have not been able to eradicate from my own mind."
And suddenly, crushingly, brutally... Jim knew.
"Is it because you want me, Spock?"
Spock sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and looked away from him.
Jim was still reeling from the revelation that had struck him like an upper-cut to the jaw.
"Is it because... because it's only you who can have me?" he said, feeling almost dazed with it.
He wasn't sure how to react to this knowledge; that Spock's attraction came with Vulcan side-effects, that it meant Spock didn't want anyone else's hands on Jim's skin in a way that went beyond the vague idea of 'Spock being proprietary' Jim had considered as an explanation before... Fuck, it was hot, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to... okay, wait, he might not know how he should be reacting to this but he knew how he was reacting to it.
He liked it, loved it, fucking reveled in the attention, starved for it as he was even though Spock's attention had been his for the taking from day one. But then again, when had Jim learned to say 'enough' to Spock? He'd always want more; he'd wanted Spock to think of him as more than a friend, well, that wish had been granted, but the roar of the emotions creeping behind that thought on Jim's side now left him stunned and confused and maybe in love... and no longer satisfied with owning just Spock's physical desire, was he? Now he wanted Spock's feelings too, and those he could not have.
"Fuck," he choked, overwhelmed.
And that was when his knees gave out and he found himself in Spock's lap.
"Fuck," he swore again, hoarse and ragged, and didn't get up. Spock had immediately pulled his hands away and they were now gripping the chair, fingers digging in as in literally digging into the armrests, creating grooves in the metal. "Was I right?"
Suddenly nothing mattered but hearing the confirmation from Spock's very own lips. "Was I right, Spock?"
The chair creaked slightly ominously when Jim adjusted his position and it was a truly terrible idea to move right now, so he stopped. Having nowhere to hold onto and keep his balance, Jim laid his hands flat on Spock's smooth chest.
"I won't be mad if you tell me, okay?" he murmured. "You already know I want you, you felt that, right? What did it feel like, when you touched me? You know I'm fucking gagging for it, but I just... I have to know if you're all messed up because you want it too, okay? I have to know."
Spock was staring up at him as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening, which seemed pretty fair since Jim couldn't either, but he was too far gone to do much about it.
I'd give you anything you wanted. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner but I would have given you anything. I love you. Anything, Jim thought. It was reckless, when the tiniest movement might bring skin-to-skin contact and risk Spock picking up his thoughts, but...
"Tell me."
"Jim," Spock whispered, a plea and a prayer all at once. Jim's hips twitched slightly at the sound and even that fraction of movement, that little bit of friction, had him blindingly hard in point two seconds flat. Oh God, it was too much, too many things were happening at the same time and he was so fucking weak when it came to Spock anyway, always had been.
"Do you want me."
Jim shifted again and Spock tensed even more, flecks of fear in his expression as Jim swore mentally and stopped moving because holy shit, the teasing little brushes of fabric were worse than nothing.
"Spock, they're gonna take you away from me if we fuck this up, okay? And I don't want—more than anything I want you to stay with me, please, just... please just tell me—"
Suddenly there was a confusing whirl of movement, the dizzying feeling of falling as the world spun so fast colours blurred together and the next thing Jim knew he was sprawled flat on his back on the table like a buffet and Spock was on top of him, pinning his wrists down and a soft but noticeable rumble seemed to be coming from the back of Spock's throat, suspiciously like a growl.
"What are you doing?" Spock said, his voice a low biting sound. Jim had no answer for him, not a proper one.
"Please," he groaned, struggled to free his hands even though he didn't know what they'd do if released. He did know that he'd have no control over them.
He was also dimly aware of the fact that he sounded like he was asking permission to take his next breath.
"Enough. I am not immune, I am not inanimate, which I have concluded would be necessary in order to be able to resist you."
Jim stopped struggling for a moment, caught in Spock's stern tone and the words coming out of that sinful mouth. Fuck.
"Since we first met it has become abundantly clear that you are unable to formulate an adequate notion of yourself, you do not understand what others see when they see you. You do not see yourself clearly."
Spock leaned closer, eyes slightly narrowed in a way that was almost accusing but not quite, intent in a way that was almost angry but not quite.
"For all your apparent aloof arrogance you cannot understand... you are truly ignorant of how entirely, absorbingly fascinating you are," Spock said. Jim gulped and stayed silent, feeling frozen and caught.
"And I had to attempt to ignore you. This fact presented its relevance within hours of our acquaintance and yet you see how my attempts have failed. I did try, but I was unsuccessful because it is impossible, Jim. Ignoring you is impossible. I would frequently anger you, I am aware of this, and frustrate you and perhaps confuse you, but I could not stay away. Of course I want you. I am weak when it comes to you."
"Spock—"
"Having to see you every day, having to see... you are desired by many. Do you know this? You must know the thoughts you elicit when you parade yourself in front of the starstruck Humans like a prize. Their blatant lust for you… the Human inability to conceal anything from your facial expressions that makes it so obvious." Ironically, Spock was doing a terrible job of concealing his own expressions just then, anger clear on his face; sharpening his cheekbones and slanting his eyebrows, tightening his mouth.
At that description, however, Jim too was starting to feel tendrils of anger curling around the twisty mess of emotions making his blood hum.
"I don't parade myself in front of—"
"Having to see other's eyes on you, being unable to stop them wanting you by claiming you as my own, and knowing that either you are completely unaware of this or in your blatant disregard for anything resembling propriety you thrive under the attention—"
"The hell?" Jim interrupted, loudly hitting the table by slamming his foot down. It shouldn't be turning him on to be so defenselessly splayed like this... but it did. He felt embarrassed and hard and dizzy. "I don't... what the fuck, Spock, I'm not... and I never wanted to... provoke you or anything like that, Jesus Christ, I was trying to avoid you! Avoid all of it, like we said we would and I was trying—"
"Then you failed," Spock retorted. His arms were pressing Jim's wrists painfully into the cool table. "You failed because I want you more than I have ever wanted anything before, James."
Jim's hips gave a stuttering little thrust up at that. Fuck, Spock had never used his full name and it was weird but also incredibly hot. Spock wanted him. Spock had said that he wanted him, literally in all those words. Twice.
"Spock, I'm, I'm begging you here—"
"Begging for what?" Spock asked, a catch in his voice. Jim would swear he felt it in the base of his spine, that little hitch of breath.
"For you to let me go, of course," he gritted finally.
In one fluid motion Spock was off of him and abruptly Jim was cold, lying there on the table with his arms by his sides.
He sat up and watched Spock watch him warily, as though he was afraid a sudden movement would startle Jim.
"I get angry if anyone dares to presume that they can have you," the Vulcan said finally. He didn't look angry anymore, but there was a sense of restraint around him, of holding back and keeping together through sheer stubborn willpower.
Jim's stomach gave a hot little jolt at the words and he wanted to slap himself for his reaction.
"I am trying to control it and it is proving to be more difficult than I had anticipated, but I did not want you to know this. It is my problem, my personal failure, an unwanted inheritance of my father's race combined with my more... Human flaws, and all I ask of you is that you continue to stay away from me."
Jim nearly laughed out loud and blurted: "So this is probably a bad time to mention that I'm pretty sure I've fallen in love with you. Am falling in love with you. To be honest, this is my first time so, uh, being new and all makes this stuff confusing, 'cause, you see, I feel like I'm still falling and I'm not sure how it's supposed to work?".
But then of course he didn't. Because that would have been bad on a level of epic.
"So you're all messed up because your attraction to me makes you wanna punch other people who get close to me even though you still don't feel anything more?"
For some reason (that Jim would understand in a few short moments), it was this question—this simple clarification, just Jim trying to make sure he'd understood what Spock was saying—that drove Spock over the edge.
In another of those insanely fast moves he grabbed Jim's ankles and pulled until Jim was on the very edge of the table, Spock between the splayed V of his thighs, and with a low grunt Spock yanked Jim by the collar of his shirt and gave him a scorching, bruising kiss.
Something clicked into place inside of Jim when Spock's spit-slick lips opened and the Vulcan's tongue entwined with his, something definite in a way that it hadn't that frantic time before. Oh this was just as desperate and needy and unexpected, and for some reason he still felt like he might die any second… but it felt huge, momentous, something roaring and epic opening up inside of him and devouring everything Spock was giving him greedily, then begging for more.
Jim locked his legs around that slim waist and groaned when his hard-on brushed with Spock's, the friction between them better than anything… only to come to his senses a few seconds later.
"Shit, Spock, wait—" he slurred against Spock's mouth, pulling away for a second and feeling drunk. But Spock just hmm'd and kissed him again, which was causing these little shocky jolts wherever their skins touched and multiplying every brush of pleasure exponentially so that it took another long moment of losing himself in the way Spock tasted… until he remembered where they were again, and what his name was.
"Spock, what the hell?" he gasped, shoving at the Vulcan's chest with as much strength as he could muster under the circumstances (which, let's face it… wasn't much). He needed to think, dammit.
"You really believe a mere unexplained physical attraction is enough to drive me to this? My control is not so poor that a bodily reaction, even an allegedly mysterious one, would do what you do to me."
Spock stopped his whispered little speech to kiss him again, deep and dirty and hot as hell, and Jim couldn't help a little 'uh' groan at the back of his throat before shoving again.
"What do you—"
"You are being ridiculously obtuse, Jim, if these are the lengths you will go to not to see the truth. I do not care that you do not feel the same. If you cannot value yourself enough that you never even considered the possibility of my emotions being involved in this, then you must be shown."
The fact that Spock was speaking right against his lips, nose brushing Jim's and steaming hot breath mixing with Jim's own, was making the Captain's thought-processes work a little bit slower than usual. Which was why it took him a good ten seconds to actually understand any of what Spock had said.
"…Wait, what?"
Spock pulled away and Jim suddenly realised his legs were still breaking several regulations, so he quickly let them fall and sat back, trying for some more of that thought-clarifying distance. The noticeable bulge in the front of his pants was even more obvious now, but there was nothing he could do about it. Um. Nothing remotely appropriate, anyway.
"What are you saying?"
Spock looked at him and there it was, suddenly. That expression Jim had only gotten to glimpse incredibly briefly and so tenuously he'd either dismissed it or passed it off as exhaustion.
Spock looked horribly, soul-crushingly sad.
"It will be easier to show you," he said.
And then he was raising his hand toward Jim's face in a gesture Jim had only received once before; please, allow me spoken off-hand, with a familiarity that he didn't understand yet, it will be easier, and whoa whoa, what are you doing? because, hey, crazy old guy in a cave here claiming he was Spock and there was a universe where he liked Jim. And then; our minds, one and together.
"May I?"
Long fingers hovered just above Jim's skin, tentative and almost shy, and still that mind-numbing sense of loss permeated the air between them, cloying it with a sort of profound wretchedness Jim wanted to eradicate with all his might.
"Yeah." Jim nodded firmly, trying to broadcast confidence because he couldn't stand that feeling coming from his friend. "Do it."
It happened fast; Spock curled his other hand around Jim's hip as if to steady them and then pushed—
Jim dimly heard himself gasp but he couldn't see anymore, had been sucked into another place; a vast and seemingly never-ending expanse of midnight, and although he is blind in this world he can feel the enveloping warmth of Spock everywhere and he is safer than he's ever been.
Spock.
Yes.
He's in Spock's head, in his mind, and he keeps getting these little jolts of emotion, like glimpses that slip through Spock's defences, when blanketing calm is what Jim assumes Spock is trying to project.
Am I reading your thoughts?
No. You are gaining impressions of those thoughts I wish you to feel.
…And that includes the fact that you're obsessed with my lips, does it?
One of the flashes of feeling has revealed the churning, gut-clenching claw of pure want Spock associates with Jim's body and it has left him breathless; a weak joke the best the Captain can manage because… because it might just be physical but he's wanted so fucking much—
Idiot. You are stupid, you are precious and wanted but a stupid idiot.
Hurt. It hurts to feel Spock think that.
Jim. T'hy'la, Jim, look deeper.
But he doesn't have to search, for Spock allows him to find it immediately, to see—
Oh. That's… oh.
It's hard to comprehend, at first. Because… he is wanted so far beyond physical desire that it stuns him, breaks him, tears him apart and puts him back together differently, not better or worse but certainly not the same as before, because… he has never known want like this, want so profound and so terribly clouded in a haze of sadness that it seems to wreck a sob out of him. He feels the meld weaken and senses the hard surface of the table under him and the warmth of Spock's limbs around him and the pain, Jesus, so much of it; despair that stings and bites and yawns, hopeless and endless and effortless but why, oh why does it hurt so much he's pulled under again, and now he knows why; it's because the bond will forever remain broken because Jim cannot want him back, certainly not like this, when the enormity of his feelings frightens Spock himself, forces him to try and fight, day and night without rest trying to kill something that will not die, so perhaps he will be forced to learn to live with this pain forever—
Spock! You call me the idiot? I know I'm in your mind but aren't you in mine, too? Isn't this just a meeting of both—our minds, one and together—Spock, can't you taste how much I love you too—
Incredulity, disbelief, Jim must never find out, enormous too-blue eyes must never be troubled by this knowledge, this burden that is Spock's undoing, so obvious that he is being convicted for his crimes, being court-martialed for the emotions he was never supposed to have—
You… you cannot feel the same, Jim. How can you…?
His blood sings and boils and licks at the insides of his arteries and veins with a fire Spock has never been unable to control before. He likes Nyota and he senses he is not enough for her but he does not fully understand until later, when the revelation strikes deadly and ruthless and final; the way he burns for his Captain, burns in a manner that he should be able to stop but cannot… Jim teases without knowing it, provokes without being aware of it, tests and tests and tests Spock's restraint to breaking points and then pushes again, all the while oblivious, unknowing. Spock realised soon enough that Jim was a beautiful creature, but he had not known this hunger before in his whole life.
I can't believe you love me. I can't fucking believe it, you love me? You feel all of these—
When he smiles, when he laughs, when he is serious and contained and in command, when he jokes and when he never cries, when he is incredibly intelligent and when he hides that intelligence under brash and brawn, when he helps others, when he helps Spock without knowing that he is also hurting Spock by being so good. When he is sick and Spock is paralysed by fear, when he is injured and Spock will kill anyone who threatens his Captain, when he inspires loyalty and when he infuses bravery, when he proves once again how deserving he is of the trust of his crew, when he is stupid and blind and so, so deaf to the pitiful cries of Spock's lonely mind longing for Jim's bright, beautiful—
Spock I—I… you don't know? How can you not know?
Of all the devil-may-care stunts he's pulled in his life ,Jim has never, ever been closer to the feeling of jumping off of a cliff.
"I'm in love with you."
He'd said this aloud. He could see the room again, this large empty room like so many others but where things had shifted and been changed so completely.
"Spock," Jim said, and grabbed the hand Spock was still resting on his hip to twine their fingers. He felt a surge of something like adrenalin at the contact and realized he was panting for breath. "Spock, I'm in love with—"
He was unable to finish this sentence because Spock was kissing him again, another deep, frantic kiss with probing tongue and slick lips and dizzying suction and Jesus fucking Christ Spock loved him.
Jim keened softly at the back of his throat and ground their hips together, Spock's fingers no longer on his face but there was still a lingering connection, a deep current between them amplified by every inch of skin-to-skin contact.
Spock slid the hand that had started the meld under Jim's shirt and raked his nails down his back, marking trails of 'Spock was here' all over the skin, making Jim shudder with pleasure and bury his fingers in Spock's short hair and tug, as though there was any way for them to be closer, dirty clash of teeth and tongues already desperate, surrounded and surrounding as he was, legs locked around Spock's waist again.
He felt a little like all this time has been an implosion played in slow-motion, with him at the very center.
And now… well. He could feel it. Four letters but such a huge word; love clogging his throat and seeping from his skin loud enough that Spock must hear.
Suddenly there was a ringing that snapped him out of his mental daze. Not just the ringing in Jim's head, he realised after a second; this was coming from the communicator in Spock's waist.
"Commander? It's Nathaniel Moss!"
They both froze and stayed silent, drawing away slightly and panting in synch.
"Remember you're due in court in ten minutes!"
Spock's hand carefully slid out from under Jim's shirt and he turned the communicator off, nose still puffing hot gusts of breath right in the spot behind Jim's ear.
Jim blinked and bit his swollen lower lip. Then he uncurled his fingers from their grip on Spock's hair and thoughtlessly smoothed it down.
"…Okay," he whispered shakily. "Okay. Now what?"
Spock looked at him with lust-glazed black eyes and Jim gulped. But, luckily, after a few moments of careful breathing and schooling his features back to their usual outward appearance of calm, he pulled away.
"I can't believe… shit."
They looked at each other for a very long moment, and it was stuffed with such choked happiness that having time suddenly ripped away from them to revel in it seemed like the cruellest thing.
"So you're a hundred percent set on the 'being my first officer' thing?" Jim asked shakily, raking a hand through his hair and then attempting to flatten it.
Spock's eyes were cautious and distant when he replied.
"I am afraid so. I enjoy my current position too much."
Jim snorted. "I'm skipping that one because it's too easy."
"Much like you, then, according to rumour."
Jim gaped at him.
"You bastard," he said, incredulously. Spock looked smug and playful, which was a very attractive combination on him, and so not good for Jim's libido right now. "For the last time, a bit of promiscuity does not a slut make, and all I've done for the past year is flirt and get real friendly with my right hand!"
He slid off the table with a grimace and tried to psychically will his blood back to his upstairs brain. "I always figured you were straight, by the way," he added.
Spock quirked an eyebrow and neatly stepped away from his Captain, the words 'avoid temptation' unspoken but obvious.
"Straight as a particularly linear ruler," Jim muttered, adjusting his shirt and feeling the phantom ache of Spock's scratches already. God, it felt so good.
The Vulcan's mouth twitched with amusement. "Mistakenly so. Although I must admit I was not entirely aware of the appeal of a Human male until I was forced to accept that you are, in fact... pleasing to the eye."
"Why thank you, Spock," Jim said with a sudden grin, blindingly wide. He couldn't believe he was actually this happy. It felt rather surreal. They had slipped back into the usual banter with an ease that was ridiculous. A click, an adjustment and everything was perfect.
"You are welcome," Spock said, a touch sarcastic.
"So when exactly did you realize... I'm sorry, when exactly were you forced to accept the fact that I'm hot?"
Spock's eyes were glinting with amusement, and something warm and soft was threatening to curl up in Jim's chest and take up residence in there.
"I believe it was not an extremely remarkable incident."
"Tell me," Jim said, suddenly dying to know.
"We should leave now, the trial will resume shortly."
"Ten minutes is time, we're on the same Deck. Come on, tell me."
"You seem to enjoy giving me orders," Spock noted, eyebrow raised and not answering the question.
"'Course I do, and apparently you enjoy ignoring them and doing whatever the hell you want, so I guess that proves we're soulmates." He said it as a joke but there was a suddenly weird change in the air of the room and Jim tensed. "Plus there is no way we can enter the courtroom together and in this state. At least, I can't, because unlike some other people, my pulse isn't voluntary. You can go first in five minutes and I'll follow you later, okay? So, you were telling me about the time I made you gay."
Spock's eyes briefly flicked up at the ceiling. The eyeroll was imminent.
"We were off duty and you... were eating."
"I was eating."
"... A sandwich."
"You realized you were less than straight because I was eating a sandwich."
Spock actually seemed to be blushing by this point. It was almost too good for Jim to take. Almost. He was pretty sure he could take that delicate green flush of skin twenty-four seven for the rest of his life. Um.
"You... are fond of mustard."
"I stopped making sex-noises in the mess hall after Bones nearly punched me in the face, and that was the second week of our mission."
"I... yes. Well. Precisely."
The blush had spread to the tips of Spock's ears. Oh God how could one being be this adorable? How could so much happiness be contained inside of Jim and not just explode out of him like a grenade?
"Shit. Seriously? That long?" When Spock didn't answer Jim's grin got wider. "That is so romantic," he said gleefully. "You realized you were gay for me because I love mustard like a pornstar loves—"
"Is there a particular moment when you became aware of the allure of the male form?" Spock had pursed his lips, but Jim knew it was because he was fighting a smile.
"Well, unlike you, Mr Straight-Until-Proven-Mustard, I've always been... bendy." Jim raised his eyebrows suggestively in case there was any doubt about his double-entendre.
"And subtle," Spock added drily. Jim laughed.
"Yup. Actually, at first it was more because, well, I figured I'm an open guy and I've done it with people of other species, so why the hell not try just people of the other sex?"
"Your entire line of reasoning for this matter was 'why not?'"
Jim shrugged. "...Yeah."
"And how old were you at the time of this realization?" Spock asked, a note of distaste now evident in his voice. Jim scowled at him.
"Hey, I've always been premature."
"Hopefully not in all aspects of your life."
"Oy!"
Having run out of excuses to joke around lightly, they both went abruptly quiet and just looked at each other.
"So… our timing is top notch, huh?"
Spock huffed a little. "Indeed."
"What…?" Jim swallowed, suddenly scared. "What do we do?"
"I do not know."
There was a helpless, rather floundering pause as Jim considered the impossibility of never kissing Spock again.
"But I am due in court in eight minutes, Jim."
"Right. Okay," he racked his brains for an idea, a suggestion, anything. "I… okay, you should go and we can just… try and keep cool until the trial is over?"
"A reasonable goal," Spock said. His tone was impossible to dissect.
"Yeah, reasonable," Jim echoed, pained. "Great. So we're both agreed on, you know... this isn't gonna happen again." He gestured vaguely between them.
"Agreed," said Spock. "And we are not to discuss anything related to it until we have left the Starbase..."
"Until literally a second after we've left the starbase." Jim nodded with a little smile. It was impossible not to smile when Spock wanted him back and for a second the Vulcan looked like he was about to return the gesture; eyes all warm and tempting, but then he stiffened and turned away.
"It will be difficult."
"Hell yes. But... worth it?"
It came out like a question, which was totally lame and pathetic, but this was all new, all unknown and uncharted territory, and Jim was never the kind of guy to tentatively edge into anything, but emotions were involved now. Emotions and Spock, his best... Spock.
He'd immediately looked down like a coward, so he didn't have any warning when two fingers propped his chin up and warm lips met his.
Spock tasted like flames and felt like fire singeing Jim's fingertips.
It was delicious and intoxicating, and although it started out sweet and chaste (...ish) Jim was soon tugging Spock's shirt collar again, unable to help himself, needy and still hard and horny and not caring very much about stupid universal constants like time and space.
"Jim," Spock broke off the second Jim ground their hips together again and immediately grabbed his wrists.
"You have a thing about this, don't you?" Jim said, still a little breathlessly, trying to free his hands.
"My apologies. I had meant only to prove... I will wait, Jim, and yes, you are worth it. I would wait decades, centuries, until the very end of my life and were it possible I would wait after that as well."
Jim gulped in air and couldn't speak.
"...However, that would be illogical because in death brain synapses are not possible, therefore consciousness itself ceases to—"
Jim laughed, the tight heat running down his spine easing a little with this return of the Spock he knew and... yeah.
"Okay. Okay, you made your point."
"It would be convenient if you were to... moderate your responses to our interactions, however. As a mutually beneficial—"
"Moderate my...? You're the one who kissed me."
"Yes. Kissed you," Spock said pointedly.
Ah.
So Jim was maybe wrapped around the guy like a pretzel.
Okay.
Point went to Spock on this one.
"Sorry about that." He drew away and cleared his throat decisively. "But you have a point, with the no touching thing. Might be best."
"Yes. Please endeavour to remember it."
"Yeah, yeah."
He laughed a little at the very earnest tone Spock was using because, come on. He could control himself.
But Spock clearly wasn't convinced, and he wasn't leaving. Did he honestly think Jim couldn't go three days without tackling him to the floor and gnawing at his hipbone, bet Spock had never gotten a blowjob before either, Christ, there was an idea, could he get Spock to moan for—focus, Kirk.
"Hey! I resent the fact that you think that it might not be possible for me to resist jumping you," Jim said indignantly.
Spock merely looked at him with a touch of fond exasperation and elaborated.
"Jim, I am merely attempting to propose a temporary solution to this... issue—"
"You were going to say 'problem', weren't you?"
"—and to facilitate—"
"Like I'm unable to not have sex with you, right?"
"That is not what I—"
"Like I wouldn't be able to stop picturing you naked?"
"Jim, please—"
"Like I'm such an impulse-driven blob of urges that if I see you I won't be able to resist?"
"I—"
"I am insulted," Jim stated, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. "I feel wronged. Offended. Positively betrayed. I feel—"
"Is 'scorned' the word you are searching for, perhaps?" Spock said with laughing eyes. Jim snorted, but he was grinning again because lightness had been what he was aiming for with his antics.
"For the absolutely last time, I am not a woman. And why I need to keep reminding people of this fact is beyond me."
"... Yes, Captain."
"So, what about you? Can you handle it?"
This made Spock pause, Jim suspected incredulously.
"Yeah, ever think that maybe it could happen the other way around?"
Spock swallowed, but gave no other sign of discomfort. "I considered the possibility, however, I have been adept in the study of emotional and physiological control since childhood."
"So you're saying it doesn't affect you at all to imagine me naked?"
Okay, okay, now he was just messing with the guy. But in Jim's defense Spock looked amazing when he was clearly trying (very hard, the poor sweetheart) not to think of Jim naked.
"I will be late," Spock said, voice a touch strained and looking anywhere but at him. Jim grinned brighter, surprised and pleased by this development.
"Yeah okay. See you in there."
"Yes."
...Spock still wasn't leaving.
"Spock?"
"I will see you shortly, Captain." He stood there for a few moments, obviously struggling with himself even though he gave no outward appearance of it. "I would ask..." he began, slowly.
"Yeah?"
"I would ask that you..." he stopped. "I will be late. We will discuss this once the trial is over."
Jim knew he could have pushed it—might have even gotten Spock to say what he was thinking. But they really would be late and that wasn't good, and he let it go.
"Okay."
It felt a little bit definite, like saying goodbye for a long time when they'd see each other again in a minute, literally. But still, before he could change his mind Jim pressed his lips to Spock's jaw.
"Been wanting to do that for ages," he said shakily, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling self-conscious.
Spock looked at him blankly, then gave a curt nod. "There are very many things I have been wanting to do to you as well," he said, in a tone that was almost buisnesslike, and Jim may or may not have choked on his own saliva in an attempt to avoid bursting out laughing hysterically.
"Okay then! Bye!" he coughed. The corner of Spock's mouth twitched again.
"Goodbye, Captain."
TRUE LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!
You guys, seriously, they are SO DEEPLY IN LOVE THAT IT BOGGLES ME. And I'm not talking about my own story (that would be weird). Just. K/S in general, GAH. Pretty space cowboys arguing heatedly one second and making gooey eyes at each other the next and also CANON, what more could a girl possibly want? *dreamy sigh*
So I'm already writing the next chapter and it is waaaaaaaay long and has actual, you know, PLOT in it, but I just wanted to say I am sorry for the pauses between updates 'till now... because that's over! I'm finally home and we're gearing up for the finale of the story so watch out for faster updates!
Anyway, this was a very important chapter and I took my time making it as good as I could. I am, obviously, still an insecure blob of hope about it so I will savour every comment like a... something that savours things a lot? (...WHAT) I seriously cannot express my love for you guys enough. And even the lurkers I love, because I LOVE YOU ALL. My love for you is as epic as Kirk and Spock's love for each other!
Except, you know, without the whole sexual parts because, um, creepy.