FIC: untitled
He woke up abruptly. Usually he’d wake up slowly, becoming aware of the sunlight maybe, or the fact he needed to piss. But not this time - Jim woke up completely aware that he didn’t know where the fuck he was, and shit, SHIT, his ribs hurt and half of his face felt numb and his knuckles stung like he’d scraped them raw and then pissed on them. Jim clamped down on his initial instinct to let out a groan and peered through his eyelashes, half expecting to see the sky or maybe up the bad side of an alley wall. Through the haze of pain and confusion, he noted that the sheets were soft under him and over him, and from the way that it felt against his bare flesh, of a high quality. His host wasn’t a pauper.
His eyes fluttered open weakly. A pale shell-colored ceiling with an old-fashioned manual air fan filled his immediate line of sight, more decorative than functional. It was bright, daylight bright. He was missing at least twelve hours.
His last memory was work. A fancy assignment that included dressing nice and looking fresh, meeting at one of the nicer hotel establishments on Eridian Space Dock. For the credits, he would have needed to do one job that night though it tended to wear him out; all that stripping shit this kind of client loved and the special requests. And then… Jim frowned. That’s when it got a little fuzzy.
Bits and pieces of sense memory hovered, including the sting along his ribs. He didn’t move his hand from there, just pressed down carefully. Jim held his breath as the pain passed, and suddenly he was remembering something, something about a -
A sick feeling ripped through him - the guy had pulled an Orion slave whip on him, the kind that gave a real shock and could put a grown man down. That wasn’t part of the deal - fuck no. Jim had perfected a crotch-kick for this, but the whip had gotten to him first. The sick feeling grew. Twelve hours he’d been out - was he even within the solar system anymore? Jim exerted his sense of touch; it didn’t hurt as badly as he expected considering his last memory but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to open his eyes and look.
Random snatches of conversations came to mind but he couldn’t be sure who was saying what, and if this was from last night or the night before or last week or even last month. Sense impressions came to him: a male voice, low and cool, and a firm male touch, hot dry and clinical against the flesh of his arm. If Jim could only see him, it would all come back.
‘I see you are awake.’ The voice was close to him, close enough to touch.
His pulse raced as he jerked up, rolling over and off the bed in one quick practiced move. But the guy who spoke wasn’t the asshole who had tried to hurt him. Pointy ears, slanted eyebrows, the severe fringe line and dead straight hair - Jim stared at him, not breathing. Crap, he’s not even human!
‘Be calm.’ The Vulcan said in a bland tone, hand out in a standard calming gesture that Jim was pretty certain he’d ripped from a medical brochure somewhere. ‘You are currently experiencing a heightened level of emotional stress. I assure you, I mean you no harm.’
He was sitting on the bed, body twisted around to face Jim. And yes, he was familiar. Dark hair, equally dark eyes, strong features, defined jaw, full-lipped mouth, and those pointy ears….
‘There is no cause for alarm. Please.’ The Vulcan said, slowly standing, hand still out as if Jim was going to run at any moment.
"Physically harming the one with whom you wish to achieve sexual gratification from is highly illogical as well as impolite.”
The random sound bite from somewhere inside of his memory made him flinch and yet reassured him that this Vulcan must have stopped that asshole from doing whatever he’d planned on doing. His savior, he realized, internally chuckling because oh boy, it’s the Vulcan he’d seen at the bar earlier, the one who had looked at him for some odd reason. Good body, shoulders that were broad but not too broad, that intense stare which was slightly inhuman, gorgeous naturally as Vulcans tended to be. Jim had been interested, and would have tried his luck just for the hell of it if it wasn’t for the job; after all, he knew how to show a Vulcan a good time. But then he’d seen the client reclining against the bar.
Jim remembered leaving the hotel bar with the client. They had walked, so they probably were nearby, most likely in one of the hotel rooms. Unless of course, they walked to his client’s ship, in which case he could be anywhere. Could he remember more? The Vulcan gave him an intense look, expressionless but there was an edge there. It made Jim uncomfortable, though he couldn’t tell why. They didn’t know each other… Did they?
‘You don’t remember do you?’
The softly spoken words seemed uncharacteristically gentle and almost… familiar, like something he had heard before. Was it last night? Jim ran his eyes along the Vulcan’s face, his own face casually passive. Was he that obvious? Or was the Vulcan reading his mind? He tried for an ironic smile, and scratched the back of his head, his eyes raking around the room for hints. ‘I’m a little fuzzy, but hey, I got to take you home so it must have been good.’
There was a short pause before the other man spoke, ‘You did not know where you were, did you? When you opened your eyes.’ The Vulcan clarified, eyes studying him.
‘Not right away, no.’ Jim admitted, feeling a creeping sense of shame come over him though he didn’t know why. He was thankful as he recalled enough of last night to know this Vulcan had saved him from having bleeding welts all over his body, but not thankful enough to owe the guy any explanations. He was an autonomous adult, thank you very much.
The Vulcan narrowed his eyes, ‘Do you know now?’
‘Sure.’ Jim grinned brightly, one hand cradling his sore ribs, ‘I’m here. With you.’
The Vulcan raised one eyebrow, and frowned deeply, causing his eyes to narrow in an almost angry expression. Which couldn’t be right, because even Jim knew: Vulcans didn’t get angry, or maybe they did, but they certainly hid it better. ‘Do you know where here is? Or who I am?’
‘Well, I don’t remember passing a docking port and I do remember walking, so I’m guessing we’re still at Eridian Space Dock.’
‘A guess?’ That head tilt was going to drive him up the wall.
Jim gave the other man an irritated glance and went back to checking out the room. So it was a guess, why did the Vulcan have to go and make it sound like it was so stupid? ‘Couldn’t we call it an educated guess? Or at least an informed one?’ A vivid blush broke out over his face as Jim realized that he was standing pretty much naked, and he couldn’t see any of his clothes. He glanced at the Vulcan and wondered if he had been undressed by the guy or if he had arrived like this, and if he did have clothes, what the hell happened to them.
‘While it is not my business nor do I wish it to be my business,’ the low growl seemed to say otherwise, but Jim wasn’t going to call the guy up on it, ‘-you were obviously intoxicated last night when you were attacked. If you are drinking enough alcohol to cause memory loss then how did you expect to procure… a companion for the-?’
‘WOAH! Woah, back up. I had a drink, as in singular, one, mono, wuh and that was because -!’ Jim felt the words drop like a rock to the pit of his stomach. Shit, he had one drink, because the guy had given it to him, and he’d been impatient, wanted to get the job over and done with, and so he had thrown it back without thinking and then… and then… Jim sank down on the bed, a hand over his eyes as a pounding headache started. Fucking stupid amateur move! What had he been thinking?
‘I admit,’ The Vulcan began in what seemed like a softer tone to Jim, ‘You didn’t stagger or slur your words, and you were able to form complete sentences. They were grammatically correct.’
Jim gave a soft laugh, because was the Vulcan trying to comfort him with a report of his linguistic prowess while completely fucked out of his mind?? He stood up, struck with restlessness. He could beat himself up over this later, but right now he needed to get out of here. ‘It worked out alright didn’t it? I mean, you’re an okay guy, and I’m here. Lucky me.’
The last line was pure sarcasm but then the Vulcan wouldn’t be able to tell. Jim turned to face his savior and grinned though the Vulcan remained serious.
‘I do not consider myself an expert but… there are many individuals out there who are not “okay.” You are an autonomous individual but I feel it is my duty to inform you that the man whom you were consorting with last night has been taken in by Starfleet Security-’ A jolt of fear went through Jim at the mention of Starfleet; if they knew what he did, mom would know within forty-eight hours and just no, NO, not happening, ‘-for illegal possession of a concealed weapon and -’
‘Look, I didn’t know, okay.’ Jim glanced away, trying not to squirm. He didn’t know how the guy did it but the Vulcan had been staring at him for the last few minutes without even blinking, and it was getting downright creepy especially since Jim was wearing the corner of a bed sheet. ‘Can I have a shower?’ He asked suddenly, realizing that he smelt of sex, and - and other things… Jim glanced up, wondering how the Vulcan could stand to be in the same room as him because crap, didn’t Vulcans have a really developed sense of smell?
‘Do you remember my name?’
Jim closed his eyes to stop himself from rolling them or glaring at the other man; the Vulcan saved him from a long stay in hospital and a possible short lifetime of sexual servitude and death, he deserved some respect even if Jim found it hard to give it to him right now while he was butt-naked and being interrogated like he was some fucked up teenage brat who didn’t know up from down.
‘I’d probably recognize it if I heard it,’ he lied. He had no fucking idea to tell the truth but strangely, the Vulcan didn’t call him out on it.
There was a pause, ‘You told me your name is James.’
He grinned, ‘Well I got that one right.’
‘And you asked me to call you Jim.’ The Vulcan looked away almost like he was embarrassed, though by what exactly Jim had no fucking idea.
Jim fixed the Vulcan with a steady look. He only told people to call him Jim if they deserved it. ‘Did you?’
The Vulcan gave him a perplexed look, ‘Did I what?’
‘Call me Jim.’
‘Yes…’ The nameless Vulcan said slowly, ‘It seemed appropriate to- to keep you responsive.’
Jim tried to stop his eyebrows from lifting in surprise and only half-succeeded - did Vulcans make a habit of stuttering or sounding awkward, or was it only the cute ones? That hint of weakness, of uncertainty, made the Vulcan seem less prickly and Jim relaxed, some part of him whooping that he’d made a Vulcan stumble in his speech.
‘I tried to wake you, but you were… unavailable.’ That was a nice way to say that he was dead to the world, completely drugged out of his skull. ‘I decided to let you rest, after ascertaining that you were in no real danger. Then I rested, nearby to keep watch.’ The Vulcan added almost in haste.
Jim grinned slowly. Was the Vulcan worried that with his blotchy memory, he would think that Mr. Hot Nameless Alien had been the one to rough him up? ‘And here we are. Thanks for, you know, taking care of me.’
The Vulcan nodded slowly, his expression still stuck somewhere between the Vulcan version of repugnance or pity with a strange side splash of anxiety and earnestness, or at least that’s how Jim interpreted it. Antagonism officially cancelled, Jim yawned and zoned in on the nearby bathroom door. A new wave of revulsion crashed through him as the desire to scrub his skin clean hit. SHIT and shit, what had he been thinking? Well, thank his lucky stars for do-gooder Vulcans…
‘Hey, I’m going to go take a shower, okay? Even if I didn’t win the Name That Vulcan Stud contest,’ He gave his nameless rescuer a flirtatious wink, ‘-don’t go anywhere.’ Jim didn’t wait for acknowledgement before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door.
Finally alone, he threw up in the Vulcan do-gooder’s toilet.
---
The bathroom had a window, which for a moment Jim thought was a fake holographic image but then he felt the breeze coming in and smelt salt from the nearby sandy beaches. It seemed that he was on a planet with great weather, and that he was very high up, perhaps in a hotel or an apartment. He showered using some exotic-smelling shampoo and gargled till the disgusting taste left from last night was gone. Jim also borrowed the man’s toothbrush and diligently cleaned his teeth. He did this all while cursing under his breath because fuck, FUCK, Chekov was still waiting for him, still sick back at their apartment, and he couldn’t even say the time was well-spent getting the credits for the boy’s shots. He needed to get cleaned up though - the kid would freak if he came back all messed up and so Jim took his time. Chekov was insufferable when he was proved right, because apparently (Jim mentally snorted) Russians invented nagging.
When he emerged it was to an empty room, and the smell of coffee wafting through the door leading to the rest of this apartment (long-term hotel suite? Jim wasn’t sure) that had been left ajar. With just a towel around his hips, Jim left the bedroom in search of his host. He didn’t have to look far. The Vulcan was walking towards the bedroom, obsessively stirring a cup of coffee. For the first time, Jim took notice of what he was wearing - plain dark navy fitted pants and tunic, almost like it was a uniform. It accentuated just how fit he was despite being so lanky, so Jim shook off the creeps he got over how much it resembled a Starfleet uniform.
‘I asked an acquaintance for advice on what you would like for breakfast and-’
‘Thanks.’ Jim said, grabbing the cup and taking a gulp. It was almost too hot to drink but he swallowed it anyway, wanting to be able to think clearly. Cupping the mug between his hands, he breathed in the steam deeply and almost felt like sinking down on his knees. ‘I might live,’ he moaned, his entire body shuddering at the sensation of something hot hitting his quivering stomach.
The Vulcan cocked a disapproving eyebrow and swiftly turned on his heel, heading back where he came. ‘I didn’t know what you liked-‘
‘It’s fine.’ Jim followed and took another gulp of the hot drink. ‘Coffee is enough, really. I’ve got to go. Chekov’s waiting for me.’
They ended up in an open-plan room with a dining table for two set up in front of double doors opening onto a wide balcony. Jim stopped at the sight of the Golden Gate Bridge and Starfleet’s flag flying high on poles over the domes for the Academy’s halls, stunned because Eridian Space Dock was nowhere nearby and he didn’t know how the hell he ended up back on Earth and just, fuck.
The Vulcan walked in front of him, momentarily cutting off the view and he blinked before looking up to meet those dark intense eyes. ‘As I did not know your preferences, I ordered all items listed as being fit for human consumption.’
Jim gave the Vulcan a confused look before his eyes finally registered the presence of a kitchen nearby. He raised his eyes at the sight of an entire counter full of food; muffins, pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, fruit and several other less common breakfast items including a cold platter of… salami and ham? Jim swallowed down an urge to vomit as the soothing effects of the coffee on his queasy stomach shook off. Ugh, whatever he was slipped last night was having some pretty nasty side effects. It was a total overkill, and a waste, and - Jim’s eyes flew back to the Vulcan’s impassive face.
‘Um, thanks but that really wasn’t necessary.’
The nameless Vulcan stared back at him, frozen with his eyes almost unnaturally wide. ‘Have I made an error in my selection?’
‘No!’ Jim said, forcing a smile onto his face even as he felt his stomach take another turn, ‘It’s fine, thanks.’
Almost suspiciously, the Vulcan pulled the chair out for him at the dining table and approached the counter where the food was laid out, hands clasped behind his back. ‘I understand that pancakes are very agreeable.’
In any other situation, Jim would agree with him. He swallowed with difficulty as another flash of nausea hit him, making him gag. A glance at the food only made this worse, and with a groan, Jim slammed the coffee cup down on the nearest surface and made a dash for the bathroom. He barely made it before chucking up what little else had been left in his stomach.
When he finished, he found the Vulcan crowding the bathroom door with an eyebrow raised. It looked like a very polite expression of repugnance. Jim wiped a hasty hand across his mouth, his throat hurting and his stomach still shaking. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I gotta go- I need to go.’
‘I apologize- I was informed that the food was fit for human consumption.’
Jim staggered over to sink, barely managing to get out a strangled “sorry” through his clenched teeth. He gargled and stuck his fingers in till they were blunt against his gums. There was a lingering taint of coffee and something sour left in his mouth even after the third rinse. Jim raised his head and caught sight of his appearance in the mirror. He had gone dramatically pale with a sickly pink flush over his cheeks, wet eyelashes, still dressed in a towel with one hand cinching it at his hip.
‘Do you require medical assistance?’
Jim shook his head. The nausea was already pasting. No he just had a sore throat and he was still naked. ‘Can I have a moment?’ He said weakly.
The Vulcan gave a small nod, stepping back out of the bathroom. Jim took the guy’s toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth till he could bear the thought of kissing his mother and readjusted the towel. The Vulcan had been more than nice, in fact considering Jim’s past dealings with Vulcans (not that he had many of them for clients, but he’d had one back when he was new and so he had a soft spot for them) this was bordering on sweet. Chekov was probably worried sick, and while Jim wished he could stay and chat and maybe even eat some pancakes, it wasn’t workable. Composed, he went back to the main living area.
‘Are you ever going to tell me your name?’
The Vulcan’s eyes came up briefly from where it had been reviewing a PADD and then flicked away. ‘Spock,’ he said, sounding uncertain as he cleared his throat, ‘Spock, son of Sarek.’
Jim didn’t understand what the “son of Sarek” part was meant to imply but he knew an interested face when he saw one. Hiding his smile, he slowly maneuvered around the counter, careful not to give the game away early; Vulcans could be so skittish, something about them that was both charming and irritating. ‘Hey Spock, are you cold?’
The Vulcan gave him a quizzical look, ‘No, I am quite comfortable. Do you find the temperature unpleasant?’
‘No, but if I wanted to get more comfortable…’ Jim stepped away from the counter and conveniently closer to the Vulcan and took the opportunity to drop his towel, noting with satisfaction the way his Vulcan do-gooder’s eyes widened just slightly, his expression no longer quizzical. It’s the eyes, Jim decided, they just didn’t seem as cool as the rest of the package in fact… he ran a firm hand down the curve of Spock’s cheek and leaned in.
The Vulcan stepped back abruptly, a hand coming up to push at Jim’s shoulder and a genuine furrow at his brow. ‘What… are you doing?’ he breathed, before realizing he was touching Jim and letting go like he had been scalded. Jim’s stomach clench but he brushed it away. He didn’t expect them to like him; he just expected them to pay, and in Spock’s case, Jim owed him.
Jim smiled and leaned into the long lean figure, and brushed their mouths together while maintaining eye contact. It always sold the experience, and he wanted to show he was at least grateful if not feeling amiable to friendly relations. ‘Well it feels kind of wrong, knowing that I hooked up and can’t even remember a thing.’ He breathed hotly against the Vulcan’s full-lipped mouth and nipped the lower lip with a smirk, because he was going to enjoy this even as a thank-you fuck as Spock was kind of gorgeous. ‘It’s unfair, you know?’
‘I assure you, we did not hook up last night.’ With a faintly disconcerted look, Spock turned and stepped calmly away to pick up that infernal PADD and hold it awkwardly in front of him, like he didn’t know whether to read it or use it as a shield. Jim arched an eyebrow at the attitude; he was standing here completely naked offering himself up for debauching and the guy was just standing there, frowning like there was something wrong with him.
Jim grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his hips again. His work was done - he’d offered and he couldn’t exactly force the Vulcan accept his thanks. ‘Well then, thank you for the coffee, the shower, knight in shining armor stand-in thing and holding my hair, well, sorta… Anyway I gotta roll - you know where I can get some clothes?’
There was a pause and then Spock was nodding, disappearing swiftly into the bedroom. He returned moments later with a plain black shirt and pants, and a pair of boots that Jim recognized to be the pair he had been wearing last night. ‘I believe we are of a similar size, however I do believe my arms are longer than yours.’
Jim accepted the clothing and shoes gladly and wasted no time in whipping the towel off again and throwing it over the nearest chair. He eagerly thrust a foot through one pant leg. ‘Hey, do you have the time?’
‘Currently, it is 0804 time on the 25th of September, 2254 in San Francisco, Earth.’
Shit, Chekov wasn’t just missing him, he was probably going nuts! Jim thrust his other leg through. The credits he didn’t get were going to be missed but he was alive and that counted for something. He eyed the food and wondered if it would seem crass to ask for a bag to go; it would save him both time and money. Jim cursed softly underneath his breath. He thought he would be back within a few hours and so he hadn’t even set aside any leftovers for the Russian and their replicator was still busted.
‘Do you still not recall?’ The Vulcan asked softly.
Jim looked up mid-zip and winced slightly at the sensation of cold metal against his cock. ‘What?’
‘Are you still suffering from an inability to correctly recall last night’s events?’
Jim shrugged. It was twelve hours of his life he was never going to get back but he had ended up in bed with a gorgeous creature without a single bloody welt. The ribs were a little sore but that he could live with. Jim grinned, ‘I’ll just have to take your word for it. Look I’ll get out of your hair now,’ He pulled on the shirt, ‘I’m sorry about last night. And in the future, I’m going to make it a point to watch what I drink.’
‘You have nothing to apologize for, Jim.’
He looked up at the sound of his name and chuckled, pulling on his boots. ‘Hey you called me Jim.’
The Vulcan ignored his comment. ‘However, you were putting yourself at risk. For your own sake-’
‘I know.’
He made a move to leave only to be stopped by the Vulcan stepping into his path with his hand held up in the halt position. Jim tensed and wondered if this was meant to a protective “Don’t’ freak out” kind of halt or a “You’re in trouble, buddy, did you think you could just leave” kind of halt.
‘Are you certain you are well-enough to travel?’
Jim studied the Vulcan’s face and wondered why he thought he could sense concern underneath that impassivity. There was nothing there, he knew but it just felt like…It was probably Vulcan pretty boy’s big pretty eyes. He was always a sucker for deep soulful eyes, which Spock had plenty. ‘I’ll manage but thanks for your concern.’ Jim gestured to the door he thought had the most likelihood of being the front door. ‘Is that the exit?’
Spock nodded, ‘Yes, please allow me to accompany you to-’
‘That’s fine. I can find my way. Thanks again for the- well, everything.’ Jim flashed a grin and a two-fingered salute before stepping out into the corridor.
A blast of dry warm air wafted over his face, making him lick his lips reflexively. In contrast, the apartment had been a cool pleasant temperature, whereas here it was positively hot. A building with temperature controls set to Vulcan norms wasn’t common even in the heart of the Federation. It was also whisper-quiet. Jim jerked slightly as a door down the long corridor opened, letting out a grey-haired Vulcan woman who gave him a stern look.
Jim smiled and waved before turning on his heel and going the other way. Where the fuck was he? Vulcans weren’t exactly known for their love of travelling, and to have a building full of them? Was he at the fucking Embassy or something? He hoped not. He had been there once when he was eight and this didn’t look right. The lift opened as soon as he got to the end of the corridor and he stepped in, hitting the button that was labeled with the Vulcan term for reception. Wherever here was, it was most likely owned by the Vulcan Embassy in SF, which meant that Spock was no ordinary Vulcan.
He looked up when an arm cut through the closing doors, forcing them to open. Spock gave him a nod of acknowledgment and stepped into the lift without explaining himself. Jim stared at the door and didn’t know if he should be amused or worried. He surreptitiously glanced at the Vulcan, who seemed to be deliberating over something. Finally Spock spoke:
‘I sense that you are concerned with something. Is this a concern I can assist you with?’
‘Ah, it’s nothing.’ Jim shrugged with an easy smile. ‘It’s just Chekov, he’s a kid I’m taking care of. He’s sick and I kind of left him expecting to be back within hours instead-’ He faltered as a sudden painful sensation lashed across his back making him grunt in shock and pitch forward, his knees losing all their strength. A pair of strong hands grabbed him under the arm and hoisted him up.
‘I believe you have overestimated your own abilities. Perhaps some time spent replenishing your strength would be useful.’
Probably, but that wasn’t his decision to make. He had a thirteen year old boy suffering a bad case of Khatchadorian Flu in an apartment that hardly kept any food and his last lot of credits had been spent on replicating new blankets and getting a vaccine for himself. He needed to get back, make sure Chekov was okay and then get enough credits to anticipate the kid’s needs.
Head reeling he slowly came back to the world, to the sight of Spock staring at him, holding him up by the shoulders. The Vulcan’s eyes were wide and Jim realized with a sinking feeling that he’d just spoken everything out loud. Just like Frank said, his mouth was going to get him into trouble one day.
‘You have a child.’ The Vulcan said in a stunned tone of voice.
‘No, no!’ Jim staggered back, shaking his head and grabbing onto the side bars of the lift for balance. ‘Don’t get me wrong - Chekov is not my kid, I’m just taking care of him right now, you know, because his parents aren’t around.’
The Vulcan frowned. ‘If you would accept my help, I will be glad to-’
‘No.’ Jim said, cutting Spock off. The guy knew enough about him as it was, and Jim didn’t want the Vulcan to know everything about him - heck it was amazing that Spock hadn’t looked him up already. He needed to get off-planet as soon as Chekov was better, and he would prefer to not have a Vulcan with diplomatic connections knowing about Chekov being a state runaway, or him being a Kirk. ‘No thanks, I can handle it, really.’
The lift door opened and Jim shot his rescuer one last smile and headed for the reception doors, trying to project confidence. Groups of Vulcans were all milling around, dressed in a similar fashion to Spock in various shades as well as some older Vulcans dressed in long draping robes that slid across the slick granite floors. Humans made up the second largest group. Spock followed him across the floor.
‘Jim.’
He paused before the door and turned back wearily. The Vulcan was a real sweetheart trying to look out for him and taking care of him last night, but Spock seriously needed to know when the fuck to butt out. ‘What?’ He said, just managing to bite off the edge to the question at the last second and make it seem like genuine curiosity.
Spock stopped in front him and searched his face for a moment before speaking in a low intimate tone of voice. ‘I propose a deal.’
‘A deal?’
‘I would-‘There was an awkward pause as Spock met his eyes, ‘-enjoy your presence for awhile longer, if you will oblige.’
Jim wondered if Vulcans could give meaningful looks but obviously Spock was more versatile than the average Vulcan. A slow grin curled over his lips at the terseness in Spock’s shoulders and the shifty way his eyes would discretely travel to the left and right, checking out who was watching him. Jim wondered if Spock was a social scientist of some sort, because for a Vulcan he was remarkably human. Spock stiffened and gave a stilted bow of the head to a passing Vulcan.
‘I would prefer to discuss the terms elsewhere.’ The Vulcan muttered under his breath.
Ah right. Jim could do discrete.
Schooling his expression to be neutral, Jim headed back towards the lifts and followed a random Vulcan security guard onto the first one that came, not really caring where it was going. Spock slipped in silently behind him and stood to his side. The Vulcan security guard got out and then it was just the two of them. Spock hit a button - level 28, Jim noticed.
‘I will reimburse you-’
Jim turned and put a finger across Spock’s mouth, ‘Hey, I owe you.’ A slow grin curled over his lips as he took in the startled glance down to his two fingers, caressing over the bow of Spock’s lips just the way that drove Vulcans to distraction. ‘Just because you didn’t collect doesn’t mean I don’t owe you.’
Even if he was itching to get back to Chekov, he owed the Vulcan his fucking life. Jim took his fingers away and slid them down the back of Spock’s hand in a whispery touch, before clasping the man’s fingers with his own. There was an audible intake of breath before the Vulcan stepped back abruptly, breaking Jim’s hold.
‘This is not what I require.’ The Vulcan said stiffly, ‘I require a companion for the week. I understand you are… available. I will adequately reimburse you for your time.’
That was a nice way to put it. Jim smiled, secretly bemused. ‘Sure, what did you have in mind?’
Spock frowned. ‘That is all I require - a companion for a week. What would be an adequate reimbursement?’
‘Well, that depends on what you want.’ Jim said, feeling the familiar words come to him. ‘If you want to make an appointment for a few hours each day over the week, then probably six hundred each visit, and if you-’
‘I expect your continued presence for the full duration of the week. Any costs incurred while you are with me during this time will be my responsibility. I expect you to stay at the apartment, to be close should I require you for conversation and as a guide. Is that agreeable, Jim?’
Jim met the Vulcan’s eyes, startled because Vulcans were intensely private and while he had his fair share of Vulcan clients, most of them had been satisfied with nothing more than a little heavy petting and finger stroking and oral sex, and none of them had wanted him to take him anywhere or talk to him. None of them had ever invited him into their living space. These clients’ sense of entitlement as Vulcans and cool distaste for his profession meant that most of them didn’t even bother to know his name.
The lift door opened and Spock exited, walking down the corridor. Jim stood rooted on the spot and only stepped through the lift doors when they started to close. The Vulcan turned and glanced at him, waiting.
‘Twenty one thousand - three thousand a day,’ Jim said in a low voice, glancing down the corridor to make sure no one was watching even though it was obviously empty. It was a ridiculous sum for a week of easy access to a willing body but it wasn’t like Spock was a pauper and he needed it. Jim took an uneasy breath, ‘I’ll need at least half upfront.’
The Vulcan cocked an eyebrow and nodded slowly, ‘Unfortunately I do not have access to twenty-one thousand credits-’
‘Eighteen thousand then,’ Jim said quickly. He had never expected Spock to go for that first amount. It was a ridiculous amount for a date who’d always laugh at your jokes; someone could buy two hover bikes or spend a month on Risa with that.
Spock tilted his head, ‘Fourteen thousand would be a more acceptable amount.’
Fourteen thousand was plenty. It was enough to get Chekov and him passage to anywhere, take care of Chekov during his sickness and have some left over. ‘Okay, fine, but I want half upfront.’
The Vulcan gave him a curt nod and strode away, disappearing into one of the identical doors along the silent hallway. Jim followed, taking note that it was room number 2812. He closed the door quietly and gravitated towards the computer terminal, not seeing Spock anywhere in the immediate vicinity. He had questions and he had a feeling that it would be awhile till the Vulcan answered any of them.
Drawing up the information on the Vulcan interface was a little trickier than he had expected but once his eyes got used to the foreign script, he was able to switch it to Federation Standard. It turned out that this was the Solkar building, named after the guy who made First Contact, and it contained long-term and short-term serviced apartments, complete with meeting rooms, several meditation gardens, a restaurant, a café, and two function halls. It was also definitely Embassy property; Spock was definitely not a pauper and according to what Jim was reading on room 2812, it had been put aside as the permanent residence for an “Ambassador Sarek and family” - it seemed that was the Vulcan do-gooder’s dad. Jim felt a wry twist come to his lips.
‘I will require an account to deposit these funds.’
Jim spun around, startled at the sound of Spock’s voice. The Vulcan had that damn PADD from before, his fingers flying across the screen. Jim cleared his throat, ‘Send it to a Chekov, Pavel - number 22410929.’
There was a soft chirp from the PADD as Spock look up to him, ‘The transaction is complete.’
Jim nodded, still not sure if this was for real or not. Seven thousand was already enough to buy him passage to Deep Space Six several times over. ‘Can I use your terminal to make a call?’