Fic: Hush
Spock sat, still, unmoving, in a chair, close enough to the bed to reach Jim, if he needed to.
The captain of the Starship Enterprise slept. Mostly calm. Every so often he would stir, and begin to toss and turn, murmuring things in his sleep, too low for even Spock’s sharp ears to catch.
Jim began to do so again, for the third time in the course of 7 hours and 32 minutes, Spock noted with a frown. The blond man groaned, and Spock wondered - not for the first time - if the pain of his injuries disturbed his rest. He sighed. Perhaps it would be prudent to call Dr. McCoy, regardless of Kirk’s wishes.
Kirk groaned, his skin becoming damp. No. This would not do.
Spock leaned forward, a gentle hand on Kirk’s wrist. “Hush, Jim,” he said gently, recalling the words of his mother, from so very long ago, when he was having bad dreams. “Hush and sleep. You are safe.”
Jim seemed to relax, and Spock did not know if it was the touch or the words. The scientific side of his mind said he should have first offered one, then the other, so as to be able to track the success rate of each method. The side of his mind that just desired peace for his captain told the scientific side of his mind to stuff it.
Spock sighed, closing his own eyes, leaning back in the chair. This was duty, merely duty, nothing more. The hero and golden man of Starfleet couldn’t be allowed to blubber like an infant through his award ceremony.
Indeed. Duty.
Kirk jerked awake, exactly 17 minutes later. He raised bleary, beautiful blue eyes to Spock, inhaling raggedly.
Spock lifted an eyebrow.
Kirk blanched. “What the FUCK?”
Spock lifted his eyebrow higher. “I presume you do not recall the incidents of yesterday evening, Captain?”
“Uh…” Kirk was quiet, trying to puzzle that one out. His head hurt so much less, and he inhaled, taking a deep breath. “I came over… to… make sure you were okay.”
The night rushed back to him, and he felt nauseous. Sprawled facedown in Spock’s rug. Spock lifting him. Jim’s eyes burning with tears. The hot fingers to his forehead, the cool relief of Spock’s mind against his.
He wanted that feeling again. He burned for it. He flushed.
Spock stood, ready to steady him as he struggled out of bed. “I… Uh… I gotta go shower, Spock, I gotta go get ready for the thing, the ceremony, the… I gotta shave,” he mumbled.
“Yes, sir. Do you require anything?”
Your mind against mine? What was it the elder Spock had said? Our minds, one and together?
He didn’t say that, merely forced a grin. “Hell nah, Spock! Today is a good day. Medals to be got, Ships to be commanded. I’ll see you down there.”
Spock nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. “Certainly, Captain Kirk.”
“Uh, yeah. Mr. Spock.” He turned, bracing himself against the doorframe for just a moment as he walked out. Holy shit.
He stood in his shower, letting extremely hot water slide across his skin. It felt good, slowly working on the kinks and aches. He felt refreshed, or something like it, for the first time since before that face off with Spock in front of the whole academy.
He sighed, sliding his washcloth over his body, closing his eyes, washing the soap off. Today was a good day.
He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel haphazardly around his waist, and sighed when the door chirped.
“Yeah, enter,” he called, looking up to see Bones holding his newly pressed uniform. “Ahh, Bonesy. You’re a genius.”
Bones regarded him, “You look marginally less like death.”
“Thanks, Bones.” He took the uniform, avoiding his best friend’s probing eyes. “I’ll see you down there?”
Bones sighed heavily. “We’ll talk later, Jim?” He asked softly, his fingers finding their way through his own thick hair.
“Yeah, sure, Bonesy.”
Fighting the strong urge to roll his eyes, McCoy left, rapping the door with his knuckles on the way out.
Kirk sighed, and shook his head, pulling on his uniform.
Number one on the list of things he never wanted to do: Talk to Bones about where he had been the previous night before, how he was doing, or anything else. Period. Ever.
His door chirped and he dropped his head back in frustration, groaning. “Yeah, enter!”
Spock stepped in. “I thought perhaps I should walk with you to the ceremony.”
“Listen, ah…” Fuck him. He’d really lost his shit the night before.
“Spock, I’m fine, okay? Fine, you know, just fine.”
Spock merely arched an eyebrow. “I am here and we intend to go to the same location. I will wait for you.”
Kirk realized he had a new number one on his list of things he never wanted to do: get a look of concern from Spock. Ever. Again.
The captain of the Starship Enterprise slept. Mostly calm. Every so often he would stir, and begin to toss and turn, murmuring things in his sleep, too low for even Spock’s sharp ears to catch.
Jim began to do so again, for the third time in the course of 7 hours and 32 minutes, Spock noted with a frown. The blond man groaned, and Spock wondered - not for the first time - if the pain of his injuries disturbed his rest. He sighed. Perhaps it would be prudent to call Dr. McCoy, regardless of Kirk’s wishes.
Kirk groaned, his skin becoming damp. No. This would not do.
Spock leaned forward, a gentle hand on Kirk’s wrist. “Hush, Jim,” he said gently, recalling the words of his mother, from so very long ago, when he was having bad dreams. “Hush and sleep. You are safe.”
Jim seemed to relax, and Spock did not know if it was the touch or the words. The scientific side of his mind said he should have first offered one, then the other, so as to be able to track the success rate of each method. The side of his mind that just desired peace for his captain told the scientific side of his mind to stuff it.
Spock sighed, closing his own eyes, leaning back in the chair. This was duty, merely duty, nothing more. The hero and golden man of Starfleet couldn’t be allowed to blubber like an infant through his award ceremony.
Indeed. Duty.
Kirk jerked awake, exactly 17 minutes later. He raised bleary, beautiful blue eyes to Spock, inhaling raggedly.
Spock lifted an eyebrow.
Kirk blanched. “What the FUCK?”
Spock lifted his eyebrow higher. “I presume you do not recall the incidents of yesterday evening, Captain?”
“Uh…” Kirk was quiet, trying to puzzle that one out. His head hurt so much less, and he inhaled, taking a deep breath. “I came over… to… make sure you were okay.”
The night rushed back to him, and he felt nauseous. Sprawled facedown in Spock’s rug. Spock lifting him. Jim’s eyes burning with tears. The hot fingers to his forehead, the cool relief of Spock’s mind against his.
He wanted that feeling again. He burned for it. He flushed.
Spock stood, ready to steady him as he struggled out of bed. “I… Uh… I gotta go shower, Spock, I gotta go get ready for the thing, the ceremony, the… I gotta shave,” he mumbled.
“Yes, sir. Do you require anything?”
Your mind against mine? What was it the elder Spock had said? Our minds, one and together?
He didn’t say that, merely forced a grin. “Hell nah, Spock! Today is a good day. Medals to be got, Ships to be commanded. I’ll see you down there.”
Spock nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. “Certainly, Captain Kirk.”
“Uh, yeah. Mr. Spock.” He turned, bracing himself against the doorframe for just a moment as he walked out. Holy shit.
He stood in his shower, letting extremely hot water slide across his skin. It felt good, slowly working on the kinks and aches. He felt refreshed, or something like it, for the first time since before that face off with Spock in front of the whole academy.
He sighed, sliding his washcloth over his body, closing his eyes, washing the soap off. Today was a good day.
He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel haphazardly around his waist, and sighed when the door chirped.
“Yeah, enter,” he called, looking up to see Bones holding his newly pressed uniform. “Ahh, Bonesy. You’re a genius.”
Bones regarded him, “You look marginally less like death.”
“Thanks, Bones.” He took the uniform, avoiding his best friend’s probing eyes. “I’ll see you down there?”
Bones sighed heavily. “We’ll talk later, Jim?” He asked softly, his fingers finding their way through his own thick hair.
“Yeah, sure, Bonesy.”
Fighting the strong urge to roll his eyes, McCoy left, rapping the door with his knuckles on the way out.
Kirk sighed, and shook his head, pulling on his uniform.
Number one on the list of things he never wanted to do: Talk to Bones about where he had been the previous night before, how he was doing, or anything else. Period. Ever.
His door chirped and he dropped his head back in frustration, groaning. “Yeah, enter!”
Spock stepped in. “I thought perhaps I should walk with you to the ceremony.”
“Listen, ah…” Fuck him. He’d really lost his shit the night before.
“Spock, I’m fine, okay? Fine, you know, just fine.”
Spock merely arched an eyebrow. “I am here and we intend to go to the same location. I will wait for you.”
Kirk realized he had a new number one on his list of things he never wanted to do: get a look of concern from Spock. Ever. Again.