A Series Of Unfortunate Misunderstandings
A 'new' story.
The prequel to 'The Plan', and takes place about a year before.
Title: A Series Of Unfortunate Misunderstandings ch I
Author:
joec_mn
Series: STXI
Rating: PG-13
Length: 5312 words
Warnings: Swearing, naughty language. Implied sex and misunderstandings.
Summary: The (supposed) epic romance of Spock and Jim. How it began and why
people think they're 'doing it'. Preslash. Misunderstandings galore and
pathetic attempts at humour.
Well, well... here we are again... This time the story is about what happened one year before 'The Plan', Valentines on Folnar II. No need to read 'The Plan' before reading this, but please do if you feel like it.
Please excuse any mistakes as this has not been beta-read, and I am rushing to get this done so I can get past my writers-block and begin on chapter two.
This story is planned to be ten chapters long. The first one will focus on how Spock and Jim grew 'close', and the rest are how the crew (mis)interprets their relationship.
Please leave a line or two and tell me what you thought of this piece is you like. Comments are what fuels us writers.
Happy reading!
A Series of Unfortunate Misunderstandings
Chapter One
'Valentines suck...'
James T. Kirk hated Valentines. Hated it with a passion.
One would assume that Jim Kirk would love the day, hell, he was almost made for it. An entire day spent celebrating love in all its forms and physical manifestations.
You would be wrong.
Throughout his childhood, Valentines had been a day where he and his brother had to fend for themselves. Pretty much like any other day, frankly.
His mother had run off with the 'man of the week' on an 'exiting date' and could not care less about the children she had left behind on their own until the next morning. Or the day after. Or the day after that.
It hadn't been all bad until Sam left. Once Sam left him he could feel the way emptiness and abandonment grabbed a hold of him.
After Sam, Jim had tried as best he could to fill that void, even if it meant filling it with meaningless flings and casual sex, always leaving first. Never being left.
He could bury his fears and worries with women and alcohol every day of the year with a few exceptions.
Valentines was one of those exceptions.
That day all of his acquaintances were too busy with their real relationships. Too busy to spend time on a nobody like Jim Kirk.
The past couple of years Jim had simply stopped asking people out on Valentines. Why should he? It wasn't like anyone wanted him or anything. He had found that the only thing that chased away the lonely feelings that threatened to squeeze Jim's heart in its icy hand was the sweet bliss of a drunken stupor.
He had since his sixteenth birthday spent every Valentines alone, with the exception of a bottle or two of whatever was available.
One time, though, there was an instance when he thought that he would actually spend Valentines with someone he loved.
It was foolish of him.
The girl he had been seeing, Ruth Lucas, the one Jim had believed to be the love of his life, had mercilessly stomped on his heart, suitably enough on the day where love was all but a human basic right. For all but him. She had said that she couldn't see a future for them. She said she deserved better than some high school dropout who barely made a living by fixing cars.
She had left him to explore the world, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his broken heart a gloomy February fourteenth with only a bottle of Scotch as companion.
The next day, he didn't wake up.
He had been out for almost a week when he finally woke up. His boss, Mr. Jennings, had called him several times on the fifteenth, but had received no answer. When he couldn't reach him after several hours he had apparently gotten worried and went to check on Jim.
Jim should have been thankful that Mr. Jennings found him that day.
He wasn't.
Once he got out of the hospital he quit his job, withdrew all his savings, ended the lease on his apartment and packed a bag. As the sun set he began a long journey, going from town to town, trying to find someone to make it all go away. It didn't matter whether it was the warm embrace of a woman, the rough touch of a man or the thrill of a fight.
There were no rules.
That is, there were none until he stumble upon Captain Pike.
The years at the Academy had been some of the best in his life. He had a purpose and a goal. He had friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.
He still did not celebrate Valentines, it still hurt too much, even after all this time. He chose to wave Bones off with a grin, saying he had 'awesome plans' for the day before going to the darkest part of town to get as drunk as he possibly could.
It had been his routine for three years, to drink himself into oblivion on this ill-fated day, and he sure as hell wasn't going to change it just because he made Captain.
There had been a lot of grumbling amongst the crew after their first mission. It had run longer than expected, a phenomena only occurring every seven years on the planet they were sent to explore, had delayed their mission with almost two months as they had to wait out the raging wind, the showers of hail and the eruptions of volcanoes before being able to finish their mission.
Thankfully Starfleet Command had ordered them to Folnar II to restock and make some minor repairs. The crew had become ecstatic as they learned they were going to get two days of shore-leave, especially as Valentines was drawing near.
Jim had initially decided against going down for his scheduled leave when Spock had all but ordered him to go. Claiming it was due to Jim's dwindling efficiency percentage he had, with McCoy's help, overthrown his protests and all but dragged him to the transporter room.
He had given up on his plans of getting shit-faced in his cabin and decided the only thing to do was to get shit-faced on the planet.
He would have preferred to find a suitable bar away from his crew, but McCoy had claimed he needed to be supervised, and thus he was getting dragged down the busy streets of the planet's largest city: Kvell'ta, accompanied by Bones, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu and, surprisingly enough, Spock.
"Come on, Bones. I'm a grown man, I don't need you to babysit me in every port you know. How much of a political incident could I possibly cause on Folnar? I could probably marry a Gorn without people raising a brow!" Jim whined as they trotted down the street, a myriad of different aliens littering the streets.
McCoy scoffed. "You forget that I know you, Jim. You need a babysitter so you don't end up married to a Gorn!"
"You know, I'd pay good money to see those honeymoon photos." Sulu said, eliciting a series of chuckles throughout the group. Except from Spock and Jim.
"Whatever. Don't hate on my Gorn-to be! You'll be sorry when it eats you!" Jim threatened sulkily.
"Shush, Kirk." Uhura smiled gently. "Look, there's a bar. How about we go inside and have a drink? You're getting cranky." She pointed towards a large red building with double doors, a large Jem'Hadar guard outside making sure the rowdiest clients were turned away.
"Tha's a splendid idea! I was craving a scotch!" Scotty said, bright smile on his face as they proceeded towards the bar.
The guard looked at Spock as they walked past, but didn't do anything to halt their entry.
Once inside they (Scotty and Sulu at least) insisted on a booth not too far away from the bar.
"Why did that guard glare at you like that?" Jim asked, looking over at Spock on the other side of the table.
"I can only assume he knows about the strength of Vulcans. I believe he was, as the human expression goes, 'sizing me up'." Spock said in reply.
"Hm. Go figure." Jim said as he called for the attention of one of the servers, urging his companions to order something to drink.
"Who'd win?" Sulu asks after he placed his order of Cardassian wine, folding his arms on the shiny tabletop.
Spock appeared to think the question over for a second before answering. "Since I have never heard of any altercations involving a Jem'Hadar and a Vulcan I do not have enough information to make an assessment on the matter."
Jim rolled his eyes and ordered a Romulan ale. "That's one way to avoid answering."
"On the contrary, Captain. It would be foolish of me to simply guess, without taking in all the information beforehand and making a baseless assumption is illogical" The First Officer replied coldly before turning to the waiter. "Water."
"That's no' the way ta live, Commander. Yer gotta have some firewater once in a while to cope with the dreary times!" Scotty exclaimed, urging Spock to try a glass of scotch. "You haven't tried spirits until you've had a taste of Scotland!"
"I assure you Mr. Scott, that I am perfectly satisfied with my current choice of refreshment."
"But water is for the fish, Mr. Spock! Milk for bairns, Scotch for men!"
Uhura tilted her head to the side and smiled at Scotty. "And what of the women?"
"A lady as lovely as yourself can drink whatever she wishes!"
Jim all but rolled his eyes at the conversation Spock, Scotty and Uhura were having. He was amused, but he felt the need to get away from the cheery attitude that permeated the group. Except Spock. Again.
"Jim? You okay?" McCoy asked as he saw Jim's strained face, concern flaring through him as he watched Jim close his eyes, looking incredibly tired all of a sudden.
Jim shook his head, desperate to leave. "I'm fine, Bones, just don't feel like much company right now."
"Come on, you need to rest some, you've been getting more an more snappish lately, it's just not... you..." McCoy said, placing a heavy hand on his friends shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before letting his arm move back onto the table.
"I know, but I'm crap company right now, so I'm just gonna go over there," Jim pointed towards the bar before he continued. "and drink by my lonesome. You can babysit me from here, Bones. Please, I wanna get some room to breathe."
The plea was low as Jim tried not to let anyone overhear him, his tired eyes looking into McCoy's confused ones.
McCoy frowned, but despite knowing better, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Do whatever you want, Jim, but I'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't do anything too monumentally stupid."
"Thanks Bones, I'll see you later, though preferably not until morning. Or lunch." Jim said, a little higher this time. He stood up and shot the group a blinding smile before excusing himself, walking over to the bar. He sat down next to a pretty woman... at least Jim thought it was a woman, the J'naii were pretty hard to place in the gender department, not that he was picky about it or anything.
He smiled as he asked the bartender for a drink, the first of many if everything went according to plan.
Two hours later, when Jim assessed he was proficiently shit-faced, a very beautiful Orion sat down next to him.
Jim instantly turned to her and gave her a drunken grin, she rolled her eyes before flashing a blinding smile of her own. "Are you going to buy me a drink or not? I don't have all night, you know." she said, leaning close to Jim.
"Are you sure? If you did, we could have some fun times. Valentine's and all that." Jim smiled, only slurring the last few syllables, but managing to knock his bottle over as his hand missed it by a mile as he was too preoccupied by assessing the green woman's ample... charm.
Smiling knowingly the Orion woman giggled and threw her deep red locks over her shoulder. "We'll see. How about that drink first, though?"
Signalling to the bartender for a second round of Romulan Ale and whatever the lady wished, he turned back to her.
"I'm Jim."
"Deena." The woman said as she took a sip from her rink, looking at Jim from underneath long lashes.
"A pleasure." Jim said with a smile.
Laughing she ran a finger down his cheek. "Maybe, if you play your cards right."
Across the room, dark eyes observed the surroundings of the crowded bar. These kinds of places, no matter how often he was made to frequent them, felt so very alien to him that it was almost laughable. If it had not been for McCoy's wish for him to help keep the Captain in line, he would have been all too pleased to remain on the Enterprise, meditating.
Although he could understand the Doctor's sentiments when it came to their Captain as he id have a most unfortunate predisposition to find himself in the midst of trouble. It seemed that today was no exception.
The Orion female was clearly using pheromones, and they were affecting more than just the Captain as the people around the bar were beginning to get the glazed, drugged look in their eyes that were so telltale of the Orion pheromones influence.
Turning to McCoy, Spock tried to attract his attention without alerting the rest of the people at the table, but as the good doctor had taken to his fourth glass of 'Jack', as he called it, he was less than attentive. After the second failed attempt Spock dubbed his endeavour as fruitless and decided to take care of the situation before it developed further, preferably before the Captain entered anaphylaxis due to overexposure to Orion pheromones.
Two drinks in, Jim was leaning heavily onto the woman, seemingly satisfied with how her hand was inching its way up his thigh. His content, buzzing, inebriated smile was soon replaced as a large wall suddenly formed inbetween him and Deena.
The girl cried out as her hand was caught in a crushing steel grip, removing it from Jim's thigh. Frowning he tried to make his foggy brain process what was happening, and his hazy mind slowly realized that the wall was his Vulcan First Officer. Frowning, Jim wondered to himself why he was here. Did he want the Orion for himself?
Tough luck!
Spock would have to go find a date of his own!
As Jim tried to work out what to say, Spock gazed down at the Orion girl and spoke to her in her own tongue. "You would do best to remember not to touch what is not yours, lest you might lose your arm." He squeezed her thin wrist slightly, seeing her flinch.
"I... I..." she began, but was unceremoniously shot down by Spock immediately.
"Silence!" He narrowed his eyes and she visibly shrank back. If the response did supplicate him, he promptly ignored it. "You have nothing to gain here. You should also be aware of that the release of Orion pheromones in a crowded place such as this with sub-par ventilation is an offence against the United Federation of Planets regarding harmful substances subsection 18F §149. I would advice you to keep your distance or I will arrest you."
The woman's big eyes stared at Spock as he let her go and turned to grab her former mark for the night.
"Captain, we are leaving." Spock said as he grabbed Jim by the arm, pulling him up from the chair and using his superior strength to get the struggling man to follow him.
"What? No! Let me go!" Jim shot out as he stumbled after Spock.
"What the hell?" McCoy said, shooting up from his seat, "Where's that green-blooded hobgoblin running off with Jim?"
Uhura leaned across the table and grabbed the doctor's arm. "Calm down. If you go after them now, you'll probably just get clobbered. Spock is in a bad enough mood."
McCoy gave the woman a questioning look before shrugging her hand off of him. "What is that supposed to mean? What's going on?"
"Well... you know about Orions and Vulcans, right?" She asked, looking around the table. Seeing the blank looks she received she sighed. "Look, Orion pheromones doesn't work on Vulcans, but they still bring forth their possessive instincts. They are strong enough to be considered a threat to... um... mates, and the fact that that Orion woman was laying it thick for the Captain wasn't very, shall we say: appreciated, by Spock."
"Not to sound like someone who isn't getting it, but I'm not getting it..." Sulu said, knocking back a glass of soju.
Rolling her eyes Uhura sighed again. "Really, you guys need a massive dose of common knowledge. All right! The thing is, it seems Spock has feelings for the Captain. And they're probably reciprocated."
"What?"
"What?"
"I knew it!"
Three sets of eyes turned to look at the Scotsman. "What? I did!" he said, grinning as he poured himself another scotch in celebration.
"Well, anyway, I heard what Spock said to the Orion woman. He basically told her to keep her grubby mitts off of his property, or he would rip her arm off." Uhura said, pulling the attention back to her, leaving Scotty to celebrate the new couple in peace.
"You... you can't be serious! Jim would never... That pointy eared bastard... just... It's not right!" McCoy said.
Uhura's dark eyes flashed dangerously. "Why? Because they're both men?"
McCoy grimaced. "Course not! Like I care about that, he's a freaking Vulcan, and Jim's... well, Jim..."
"I don't know... they might fit together." Sulu said, making McCoy and Uhura to turn and look at him. "I mean, Spock's all by the book, right, and the Captain is just a bit too out there on occasion. They might ground each other. Well, at least Spock could ground the Captain, the Captain would probably just be a bad influence on Spock."
"I still don't believe this. And even if it's true, I sure as hell don't support it!" McCoy huffed, waving down a waitress and ordering a Romulan ale.
"Come on Leonard, don't be that way. The Captain will still love you too." Uhura teased, laughing as McCoy was very ungentleman-like and showed her a very rude gesture.
As soon as they were out in the fresh air, free of the stifling heat inside the bar, Spock pulled out his communicator. "Two to beam up, Enterprise."
"Acknowledged." Was the only response he received before the two of them were demolecularized before reappearing in the transporter-room.
Ignoring the interested glances from the ensign, Spock hurriedly pulled Jim out of the transporter-room, not wanting to explain his captains, and his own, erratic behaviour to the ensign on duty.
Once out of the room, Spock steered towards the captain's quarters, but with each passing step, Jim's protests were becoming more and more vocal, as well as violent.
After Jim's third attempt at slugging him, Spock realized the Captain would not be able to reach his own cabin in time before a crewman may end up hurt, so he opted to place the drugged man in his own quarters instead.
A fist whooshed past his head as he was forced to let the Captain go as he tried to input his code. He easily avoided the punch, but seeing how aggressive Jim was becoming made him growl in impatience.
The Orion's pheromones had apparently been a lot more effective than he had initially assessed, seeing how the Captain was repeatedly trying too instigate a physical altercation.
The doors opened with a whoosh and Spock sidestepped another blow just in time to push Jim into the cabin, making his Captain stumble and fall onto the floor.
"Captain, please refrain from further physical attacks, or I will be forced to retaliate."
The only response he got was that the Captain growled before lunging at Spock, managing to catch him by the waist, pushing him against the bulkhead wall.
Realizing that Jim's condition would not allow Spock to calm him down verbally, Spock tried to think of a way to incapacitate Jim without inflicting too much harm upon his Captain. The Vulcan nerve-pinch was out of the question as the Captain would probably manage to choke on his own vomit if he was rendered unconscious.
The only options he could think of during the circumstances were to physically exert the Captain, hopefully rendering him more docile, or to make him repel the toxins in his system. A cup of cold, double strength Vulcan spice-tea should upset Jim's frail human stomach.
Spock quietly mused that this was one of those times when it was 'easier said than done', as the humans usually put it.
Jim was surprisingly agile for a drunk, drugged man, and he managed to slip free every time Spock managed to grab him.
When Jim lunged he managed to push Spock backwards a few steps, but Spock almost immediately turned around and pushed Jim into the bulkhead, probably with a bit more force than necessary as a shelf rattled dangerously and a bowl of glass incense-beads topple over, falling onto the floor with a clatter as they scattered throughout the room.
Shouting out in pain, Jim closed his eyes minutely before trying to pull away again.
Forced to take a step backwards, Spock stumbled on the glass beads, making him lose balance and easing his grip on the intoxicated man.
Jim took the chance and pulled free, moving as far away from Spock as the room would let him.
They circled each other, both poised to attack, eyes locked as they seized each other up. Trying to see who would make the first bad move.
Mindful of the beads on the floor, Spock barely lifted his feet, pushing any beads out of the way as he moved it all but a quarter inch above the floor.
Though Jim was agile for a drunk man, he was less than patient as he soon enough grew tired of just glaring at Spock and ran towards him. Using the small table in the middle of the seating area as a footstool as he lunged for Spock.
Spock,whose patience was growing thin, growled and steadied himself as he crouched slightly, cementing his footing. As Jim came flying, he grabbed the blond's left bicep and his right shoulder, throwing, or more like heaving, Jim into the wall, the black shirt ripping from the force of Spock's grip.
Jim screamed as he made contact with the bulkhead, his body connecting with a sickening thud before he sank onto the floor into a heap of limbs.
Spock's eyes widened and he hurried over to where his fallen Captain laid. "Captain? Are you all right?" Kneeling down beside Jim he tried to assess the damage.
His Captain's white face and unfocused eyes made Spock pull Jim onto his feet, forcing him to walk towards the bathroom on unsteady legs.
Just as they entered the bathroom, Jim swatted away Spock's hands and made a grab for the toilet, subsequently emptying the contents of his stomach in an offering towards the porcelain god.
When Jim was done, the dry-heaves having subsided, Spock helped him clean up, and with a notably lower amount of the toxins in his system, Jim was a lot more docile, eyes drooping heavily.
Noting the ripped shirt and dirty pants, Spock helped Jim change into a pair of black regulation sleep-wear pants and a t-shirt before he led Jim to the bed. As his Captain was safely underneath the covers, Spock allowed himself a minuscule sigh before he turned to face the destruction of his quarters.
Taking a deep breath he stood up, wanting some time to meditate before beginning the arduous task of cleaning his quarters. As he took a step forward, a hand grabbed his wrist, making him raise a brow as he turned to look at his Captain.
"Captain?"
"Don't go. Not alone... not today..." Jim slurred, flinging his free arm across his eyes. "Hurts too much... Please. Always alone."
Standing next to the bed he noticed Jim's breathing had even out and that he was likely asleep. Spock then tried to pull away from Jim's grip, but not wanting to rouse the Captain, nor wanting to hurting him further, he soon resigned himself to sharing the bed with Jim, promising himself to
wake early so the Captain would not know of it.
That night Spock dreamt of a young blond boy with startling blue eyes that spoke of loneliness and hurt.
Hurried footsteps sounded urgently from the corridor just before the door chimed twice. Not awaiting a response, the door opened, revealing ensign Janice Rand. Her face was flushed with worry and her lips were slightly parted, ready to report that the Captain was missing.
Taking a step into the room she noticed the state it was in and she began to worry for Spock's safety as well. Walking in further she stopped dead as she saw the two figures on the bed. She was met with an eyeful off barely dressed Captain and First Officer, sleeping soundly entwined with one another.
An arm was slung possessively across Jim's waist, bruises covering the Captain's naked torso. The pairs bare legs were tangled together, and the sheet barely covered the large bruise in the form of a hand on the Captain's hip.
With large eyes she backed out of the room soundlessly and fled, desperate to find Uhura immediately.
When the doors closed, Spock frowned in his sleep as he began to wake. He was pleasantly warm, but his sleep hazed mind told him something was out of the ordinary. Opening an eye he was met with a head full of blond locks.
His eyes widened minutely before the events of the night before came back to him. He hurriedly, but carefully, disentangled himself from Jim, confused about the 'dream' from last night. Feeling an urgent need to meditate Spock got up, ignoring the state of disarray of his quarters, and pulled out his mat. Sitting down he tried to find order in his mind.
A few hours later Jim awoke. Blinking blearily at the sealing, the feeling of something being off hit him. He sat up gingerly, his back hurt like a bitch, and he thought he might have pulled a muscle in his thigh. Grunting he tried to remember how he had gotten back to his quarters.
Suddenly a dark voice said "Lights to seventy percent." and he involuntarily closed his eyes and covered them with the balls of his hands as a whine escaped his lips.
Jim was instantly aware of Spock's presence before he saw him. Pulling his hands away from his eyes he blinked, trying to get used to the new light. "Hi Spock." Jim said, not having the
energy to muster up any kind of surprise in response to Spock being in his room.
Dark eyes observed him intently. "You do not enjoy Valentines." It was a statement, not a question, and Jim frowned.
"What?"
"If the day makes you uncomfortable, you should just say so. It is illogical to endure... loneliness by inebriation."
Jim's eves narrowed and his jaw tightened. "You don't know anything. I don't like being alone, okay?"
Spock took a step closer, his brow in the 'you-are-too-illogical-for-words' position as he peered down at Jim with what could only be described as... pity.
It pissed Jim off.
"If you state that you are to continue with such detrimental behaviour I cannot allow you to do so."
"You have no right to order me around!" Jim yelled, outraged. If he wanted to drink himself piss-drunk on Valentines, it was his business and his alone.
"That may be, but such volatile behaviour is unnecessary, and unbecoming of a Starfleet Officer. I am willing to offer my assistance in the matter."
"What?" He felt like such a broken record, but he had no idea where Spock was taking this.
A patient look crossed Spock's face before he continued. "You appear to be suffering from abandonment anxiety. I am your First Officer. I will not leave you."
Jim's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He grabbed blindly on the floor and pulled a shirt over his head so he didn't have to face Spock. "Have you been in my head?" He growled.
"Negative. Due to close proximity as we slept, I received a certain amount of transference. I apologize."
Jim didn't comment. Instead he found a pair of pants and pulled them on, wobbling slightly as he stood, pain shooting from his abused back. "Where are we?" He asked, kicking a small ball of glass that flew across the floor. "What's that?"
"We are currently in my quarters. And those are incense-beads I use during meditation. When heated they release, for Vulcans, soothing scent that helps during meditation. They fell last night during our... altercation."
Suddenly Jim's mind was flooded with images from the night before . How he had been drinking planetside. The Orion. How he had tried to hurt Spock. How he had let himself get swept away by frustration, booze and pheromones. How he had begged Spock to stay with him.
The thought made him cringe and he found himself unable to meet Spock's gaze once more.
Besides, Spock had undoubtedly seen too much of Jim's personal life for comfort. Jim really didn't like his secrets 'out there', but at least he knew that Spock would never say anything to someone else about it.
"I... I have to go. Sorry." Jim mumbled before practically fleeing from the room, a slight limp to his walk as the muscle he pulled in his thigh protested at the sudden movement.
Too preoccupied with his own thoughts and internal freak-out, he didn't notice the curious looks his crew gave him, nor did he notice the bright blue science shirt with the rank of 'commander' on the shoulder, that he was currently wearing.
Finding refuge in his room Jim tried to collect his thoughts, but he was sure he would not be able to meet Spock's eyes for a long time.
Two weeks later Jim had mustered up the courage to take the hand of friendship that Spock had extended. The whole crew had known that something was up, and Jim couldn't fault them for giving him a sideways glance or two.
He knew he had been a wreck ever since Valentines, but having your deepest, darkest secrets revealed to your... your friend... could do that to a man.
Once the shift was nearing its end, Jim got up from his chair and walked over to Spock's station.
"Would you like to partake in a game of chess this evening, Mr Spock?" He asked, just as he had rehearsed it a million times.
Looking up from his console, Spock met Jim's eyes with ease, a tiny flicker of approval in the dark depths. "Certainly Captain. Nineteen hundred hours in your cabin?"
"Awesome. And my friends call me Jim, you know."
"Very well, Jim."
Thus began the (supposed) epic romance of Spock and Jim.
The End.
Next Chapter
The prequel to 'The Plan', and takes place about a year before.
Title: A Series Of Unfortunate Misunderstandings ch I
Author:
joec_mn
Series: STXI
Rating: PG-13
Length: 5312 words
Warnings: Swearing, naughty language. Implied sex and misunderstandings.
Summary: The (supposed) epic romance of Spock and Jim. How it began and why
people think they're 'doing it'. Preslash. Misunderstandings galore and
pathetic attempts at humour.
Well, well... here we are again... This time the story is about what happened one year before 'The Plan', Valentines on Folnar II. No need to read 'The Plan' before reading this, but please do if you feel like it.
Please excuse any mistakes as this has not been beta-read, and I am rushing to get this done so I can get past my writers-block and begin on chapter two.
This story is planned to be ten chapters long. The first one will focus on how Spock and Jim grew 'close', and the rest are how the crew (mis)interprets their relationship.
Please leave a line or two and tell me what you thought of this piece is you like. Comments are what fuels us writers.
Happy reading!
A Series of Unfortunate Misunderstandings
Chapter One
'Valentines suck...'
James T. Kirk hated Valentines. Hated it with a passion.
One would assume that Jim Kirk would love the day, hell, he was almost made for it. An entire day spent celebrating love in all its forms and physical manifestations.
You would be wrong.
Throughout his childhood, Valentines had been a day where he and his brother had to fend for themselves. Pretty much like any other day, frankly.
His mother had run off with the 'man of the week' on an 'exiting date' and could not care less about the children she had left behind on their own until the next morning. Or the day after. Or the day after that.
It hadn't been all bad until Sam left. Once Sam left him he could feel the way emptiness and abandonment grabbed a hold of him.
After Sam, Jim had tried as best he could to fill that void, even if it meant filling it with meaningless flings and casual sex, always leaving first. Never being left.
He could bury his fears and worries with women and alcohol every day of the year with a few exceptions.
Valentines was one of those exceptions.
That day all of his acquaintances were too busy with their real relationships. Too busy to spend time on a nobody like Jim Kirk.
The past couple of years Jim had simply stopped asking people out on Valentines. Why should he? It wasn't like anyone wanted him or anything. He had found that the only thing that chased away the lonely feelings that threatened to squeeze Jim's heart in its icy hand was the sweet bliss of a drunken stupor.
He had since his sixteenth birthday spent every Valentines alone, with the exception of a bottle or two of whatever was available.
One time, though, there was an instance when he thought that he would actually spend Valentines with someone he loved.
It was foolish of him.
The girl he had been seeing, Ruth Lucas, the one Jim had believed to be the love of his life, had mercilessly stomped on his heart, suitably enough on the day where love was all but a human basic right. For all but him. She had said that she couldn't see a future for them. She said she deserved better than some high school dropout who barely made a living by fixing cars.
She had left him to explore the world, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his broken heart a gloomy February fourteenth with only a bottle of Scotch as companion.
The next day, he didn't wake up.
He had been out for almost a week when he finally woke up. His boss, Mr. Jennings, had called him several times on the fifteenth, but had received no answer. When he couldn't reach him after several hours he had apparently gotten worried and went to check on Jim.
Jim should have been thankful that Mr. Jennings found him that day.
He wasn't.
Once he got out of the hospital he quit his job, withdrew all his savings, ended the lease on his apartment and packed a bag. As the sun set he began a long journey, going from town to town, trying to find someone to make it all go away. It didn't matter whether it was the warm embrace of a woman, the rough touch of a man or the thrill of a fight.
There were no rules.
That is, there were none until he stumble upon Captain Pike.
The years at the Academy had been some of the best in his life. He had a purpose and a goal. He had friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.
He still did not celebrate Valentines, it still hurt too much, even after all this time. He chose to wave Bones off with a grin, saying he had 'awesome plans' for the day before going to the darkest part of town to get as drunk as he possibly could.
It had been his routine for three years, to drink himself into oblivion on this ill-fated day, and he sure as hell wasn't going to change it just because he made Captain.
There had been a lot of grumbling amongst the crew after their first mission. It had run longer than expected, a phenomena only occurring every seven years on the planet they were sent to explore, had delayed their mission with almost two months as they had to wait out the raging wind, the showers of hail and the eruptions of volcanoes before being able to finish their mission.
Thankfully Starfleet Command had ordered them to Folnar II to restock and make some minor repairs. The crew had become ecstatic as they learned they were going to get two days of shore-leave, especially as Valentines was drawing near.
Jim had initially decided against going down for his scheduled leave when Spock had all but ordered him to go. Claiming it was due to Jim's dwindling efficiency percentage he had, with McCoy's help, overthrown his protests and all but dragged him to the transporter room.
He had given up on his plans of getting shit-faced in his cabin and decided the only thing to do was to get shit-faced on the planet.
He would have preferred to find a suitable bar away from his crew, but McCoy had claimed he needed to be supervised, and thus he was getting dragged down the busy streets of the planet's largest city: Kvell'ta, accompanied by Bones, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu and, surprisingly enough, Spock.
"Come on, Bones. I'm a grown man, I don't need you to babysit me in every port you know. How much of a political incident could I possibly cause on Folnar? I could probably marry a Gorn without people raising a brow!" Jim whined as they trotted down the street, a myriad of different aliens littering the streets.
McCoy scoffed. "You forget that I know you, Jim. You need a babysitter so you don't end up married to a Gorn!"
"You know, I'd pay good money to see those honeymoon photos." Sulu said, eliciting a series of chuckles throughout the group. Except from Spock and Jim.
"Whatever. Don't hate on my Gorn-to be! You'll be sorry when it eats you!" Jim threatened sulkily.
"Shush, Kirk." Uhura smiled gently. "Look, there's a bar. How about we go inside and have a drink? You're getting cranky." She pointed towards a large red building with double doors, a large Jem'Hadar guard outside making sure the rowdiest clients were turned away.
"Tha's a splendid idea! I was craving a scotch!" Scotty said, bright smile on his face as they proceeded towards the bar.
The guard looked at Spock as they walked past, but didn't do anything to halt their entry.
Once inside they (Scotty and Sulu at least) insisted on a booth not too far away from the bar.
"Why did that guard glare at you like that?" Jim asked, looking over at Spock on the other side of the table.
"I can only assume he knows about the strength of Vulcans. I believe he was, as the human expression goes, 'sizing me up'." Spock said in reply.
"Hm. Go figure." Jim said as he called for the attention of one of the servers, urging his companions to order something to drink.
"Who'd win?" Sulu asks after he placed his order of Cardassian wine, folding his arms on the shiny tabletop.
Spock appeared to think the question over for a second before answering. "Since I have never heard of any altercations involving a Jem'Hadar and a Vulcan I do not have enough information to make an assessment on the matter."
Jim rolled his eyes and ordered a Romulan ale. "That's one way to avoid answering."
"On the contrary, Captain. It would be foolish of me to simply guess, without taking in all the information beforehand and making a baseless assumption is illogical" The First Officer replied coldly before turning to the waiter. "Water."
"That's no' the way ta live, Commander. Yer gotta have some firewater once in a while to cope with the dreary times!" Scotty exclaimed, urging Spock to try a glass of scotch. "You haven't tried spirits until you've had a taste of Scotland!"
"I assure you Mr. Scott, that I am perfectly satisfied with my current choice of refreshment."
"But water is for the fish, Mr. Spock! Milk for bairns, Scotch for men!"
Uhura tilted her head to the side and smiled at Scotty. "And what of the women?"
"A lady as lovely as yourself can drink whatever she wishes!"
Jim all but rolled his eyes at the conversation Spock, Scotty and Uhura were having. He was amused, but he felt the need to get away from the cheery attitude that permeated the group. Except Spock. Again.
"Jim? You okay?" McCoy asked as he saw Jim's strained face, concern flaring through him as he watched Jim close his eyes, looking incredibly tired all of a sudden.
Jim shook his head, desperate to leave. "I'm fine, Bones, just don't feel like much company right now."
"Come on, you need to rest some, you've been getting more an more snappish lately, it's just not... you..." McCoy said, placing a heavy hand on his friends shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before letting his arm move back onto the table.
"I know, but I'm crap company right now, so I'm just gonna go over there," Jim pointed towards the bar before he continued. "and drink by my lonesome. You can babysit me from here, Bones. Please, I wanna get some room to breathe."
The plea was low as Jim tried not to let anyone overhear him, his tired eyes looking into McCoy's confused ones.
McCoy frowned, but despite knowing better, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Do whatever you want, Jim, but I'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't do anything too monumentally stupid."
"Thanks Bones, I'll see you later, though preferably not until morning. Or lunch." Jim said, a little higher this time. He stood up and shot the group a blinding smile before excusing himself, walking over to the bar. He sat down next to a pretty woman... at least Jim thought it was a woman, the J'naii were pretty hard to place in the gender department, not that he was picky about it or anything.
He smiled as he asked the bartender for a drink, the first of many if everything went according to plan.
Two hours later, when Jim assessed he was proficiently shit-faced, a very beautiful Orion sat down next to him.
Jim instantly turned to her and gave her a drunken grin, she rolled her eyes before flashing a blinding smile of her own. "Are you going to buy me a drink or not? I don't have all night, you know." she said, leaning close to Jim.
"Are you sure? If you did, we could have some fun times. Valentine's and all that." Jim smiled, only slurring the last few syllables, but managing to knock his bottle over as his hand missed it by a mile as he was too preoccupied by assessing the green woman's ample... charm.
Smiling knowingly the Orion woman giggled and threw her deep red locks over her shoulder. "We'll see. How about that drink first, though?"
Signalling to the bartender for a second round of Romulan Ale and whatever the lady wished, he turned back to her.
"I'm Jim."
"Deena." The woman said as she took a sip from her rink, looking at Jim from underneath long lashes.
"A pleasure." Jim said with a smile.
Laughing she ran a finger down his cheek. "Maybe, if you play your cards right."
Across the room, dark eyes observed the surroundings of the crowded bar. These kinds of places, no matter how often he was made to frequent them, felt so very alien to him that it was almost laughable. If it had not been for McCoy's wish for him to help keep the Captain in line, he would have been all too pleased to remain on the Enterprise, meditating.
Although he could understand the Doctor's sentiments when it came to their Captain as he id have a most unfortunate predisposition to find himself in the midst of trouble. It seemed that today was no exception.
The Orion female was clearly using pheromones, and they were affecting more than just the Captain as the people around the bar were beginning to get the glazed, drugged look in their eyes that were so telltale of the Orion pheromones influence.
Turning to McCoy, Spock tried to attract his attention without alerting the rest of the people at the table, but as the good doctor had taken to his fourth glass of 'Jack', as he called it, he was less than attentive. After the second failed attempt Spock dubbed his endeavour as fruitless and decided to take care of the situation before it developed further, preferably before the Captain entered anaphylaxis due to overexposure to Orion pheromones.
Two drinks in, Jim was leaning heavily onto the woman, seemingly satisfied with how her hand was inching its way up his thigh. His content, buzzing, inebriated smile was soon replaced as a large wall suddenly formed inbetween him and Deena.
The girl cried out as her hand was caught in a crushing steel grip, removing it from Jim's thigh. Frowning he tried to make his foggy brain process what was happening, and his hazy mind slowly realized that the wall was his Vulcan First Officer. Frowning, Jim wondered to himself why he was here. Did he want the Orion for himself?
Tough luck!
Spock would have to go find a date of his own!
As Jim tried to work out what to say, Spock gazed down at the Orion girl and spoke to her in her own tongue. "You would do best to remember not to touch what is not yours, lest you might lose your arm." He squeezed her thin wrist slightly, seeing her flinch.
"I... I..." she began, but was unceremoniously shot down by Spock immediately.
"Silence!" He narrowed his eyes and she visibly shrank back. If the response did supplicate him, he promptly ignored it. "You have nothing to gain here. You should also be aware of that the release of Orion pheromones in a crowded place such as this with sub-par ventilation is an offence against the United Federation of Planets regarding harmful substances subsection 18F §149. I would advice you to keep your distance or I will arrest you."
The woman's big eyes stared at Spock as he let her go and turned to grab her former mark for the night.
"Captain, we are leaving." Spock said as he grabbed Jim by the arm, pulling him up from the chair and using his superior strength to get the struggling man to follow him.
"What? No! Let me go!" Jim shot out as he stumbled after Spock.
"What the hell?" McCoy said, shooting up from his seat, "Where's that green-blooded hobgoblin running off with Jim?"
Uhura leaned across the table and grabbed the doctor's arm. "Calm down. If you go after them now, you'll probably just get clobbered. Spock is in a bad enough mood."
McCoy gave the woman a questioning look before shrugging her hand off of him. "What is that supposed to mean? What's going on?"
"Well... you know about Orions and Vulcans, right?" She asked, looking around the table. Seeing the blank looks she received she sighed. "Look, Orion pheromones doesn't work on Vulcans, but they still bring forth their possessive instincts. They are strong enough to be considered a threat to... um... mates, and the fact that that Orion woman was laying it thick for the Captain wasn't very, shall we say: appreciated, by Spock."
"Not to sound like someone who isn't getting it, but I'm not getting it..." Sulu said, knocking back a glass of soju.
Rolling her eyes Uhura sighed again. "Really, you guys need a massive dose of common knowledge. All right! The thing is, it seems Spock has feelings for the Captain. And they're probably reciprocated."
"What?"
"What?"
"I knew it!"
Three sets of eyes turned to look at the Scotsman. "What? I did!" he said, grinning as he poured himself another scotch in celebration.
"Well, anyway, I heard what Spock said to the Orion woman. He basically told her to keep her grubby mitts off of his property, or he would rip her arm off." Uhura said, pulling the attention back to her, leaving Scotty to celebrate the new couple in peace.
"You... you can't be serious! Jim would never... That pointy eared bastard... just... It's not right!" McCoy said.
Uhura's dark eyes flashed dangerously. "Why? Because they're both men?"
McCoy grimaced. "Course not! Like I care about that, he's a freaking Vulcan, and Jim's... well, Jim..."
"I don't know... they might fit together." Sulu said, making McCoy and Uhura to turn and look at him. "I mean, Spock's all by the book, right, and the Captain is just a bit too out there on occasion. They might ground each other. Well, at least Spock could ground the Captain, the Captain would probably just be a bad influence on Spock."
"I still don't believe this. And even if it's true, I sure as hell don't support it!" McCoy huffed, waving down a waitress and ordering a Romulan ale.
"Come on Leonard, don't be that way. The Captain will still love you too." Uhura teased, laughing as McCoy was very ungentleman-like and showed her a very rude gesture.
As soon as they were out in the fresh air, free of the stifling heat inside the bar, Spock pulled out his communicator. "Two to beam up, Enterprise."
"Acknowledged." Was the only response he received before the two of them were demolecularized before reappearing in the transporter-room.
Ignoring the interested glances from the ensign, Spock hurriedly pulled Jim out of the transporter-room, not wanting to explain his captains, and his own, erratic behaviour to the ensign on duty.
Once out of the room, Spock steered towards the captain's quarters, but with each passing step, Jim's protests were becoming more and more vocal, as well as violent.
After Jim's third attempt at slugging him, Spock realized the Captain would not be able to reach his own cabin in time before a crewman may end up hurt, so he opted to place the drugged man in his own quarters instead.
A fist whooshed past his head as he was forced to let the Captain go as he tried to input his code. He easily avoided the punch, but seeing how aggressive Jim was becoming made him growl in impatience.
The Orion's pheromones had apparently been a lot more effective than he had initially assessed, seeing how the Captain was repeatedly trying too instigate a physical altercation.
The doors opened with a whoosh and Spock sidestepped another blow just in time to push Jim into the cabin, making his Captain stumble and fall onto the floor.
"Captain, please refrain from further physical attacks, or I will be forced to retaliate."
The only response he got was that the Captain growled before lunging at Spock, managing to catch him by the waist, pushing him against the bulkhead wall.
Realizing that Jim's condition would not allow Spock to calm him down verbally, Spock tried to think of a way to incapacitate Jim without inflicting too much harm upon his Captain. The Vulcan nerve-pinch was out of the question as the Captain would probably manage to choke on his own vomit if he was rendered unconscious.
The only options he could think of during the circumstances were to physically exert the Captain, hopefully rendering him more docile, or to make him repel the toxins in his system. A cup of cold, double strength Vulcan spice-tea should upset Jim's frail human stomach.
Spock quietly mused that this was one of those times when it was 'easier said than done', as the humans usually put it.
Jim was surprisingly agile for a drunk, drugged man, and he managed to slip free every time Spock managed to grab him.
When Jim lunged he managed to push Spock backwards a few steps, but Spock almost immediately turned around and pushed Jim into the bulkhead, probably with a bit more force than necessary as a shelf rattled dangerously and a bowl of glass incense-beads topple over, falling onto the floor with a clatter as they scattered throughout the room.
Shouting out in pain, Jim closed his eyes minutely before trying to pull away again.
Forced to take a step backwards, Spock stumbled on the glass beads, making him lose balance and easing his grip on the intoxicated man.
Jim took the chance and pulled free, moving as far away from Spock as the room would let him.
They circled each other, both poised to attack, eyes locked as they seized each other up. Trying to see who would make the first bad move.
Mindful of the beads on the floor, Spock barely lifted his feet, pushing any beads out of the way as he moved it all but a quarter inch above the floor.
Though Jim was agile for a drunk man, he was less than patient as he soon enough grew tired of just glaring at Spock and ran towards him. Using the small table in the middle of the seating area as a footstool as he lunged for Spock.
Spock,whose patience was growing thin, growled and steadied himself as he crouched slightly, cementing his footing. As Jim came flying, he grabbed the blond's left bicep and his right shoulder, throwing, or more like heaving, Jim into the wall, the black shirt ripping from the force of Spock's grip.
Jim screamed as he made contact with the bulkhead, his body connecting with a sickening thud before he sank onto the floor into a heap of limbs.
Spock's eyes widened and he hurried over to where his fallen Captain laid. "Captain? Are you all right?" Kneeling down beside Jim he tried to assess the damage.
His Captain's white face and unfocused eyes made Spock pull Jim onto his feet, forcing him to walk towards the bathroom on unsteady legs.
Just as they entered the bathroom, Jim swatted away Spock's hands and made a grab for the toilet, subsequently emptying the contents of his stomach in an offering towards the porcelain god.
When Jim was done, the dry-heaves having subsided, Spock helped him clean up, and with a notably lower amount of the toxins in his system, Jim was a lot more docile, eyes drooping heavily.
Noting the ripped shirt and dirty pants, Spock helped Jim change into a pair of black regulation sleep-wear pants and a t-shirt before he led Jim to the bed. As his Captain was safely underneath the covers, Spock allowed himself a minuscule sigh before he turned to face the destruction of his quarters.
Taking a deep breath he stood up, wanting some time to meditate before beginning the arduous task of cleaning his quarters. As he took a step forward, a hand grabbed his wrist, making him raise a brow as he turned to look at his Captain.
"Captain?"
"Don't go. Not alone... not today..." Jim slurred, flinging his free arm across his eyes. "Hurts too much... Please. Always alone."
Standing next to the bed he noticed Jim's breathing had even out and that he was likely asleep. Spock then tried to pull away from Jim's grip, but not wanting to rouse the Captain, nor wanting to hurting him further, he soon resigned himself to sharing the bed with Jim, promising himself to
wake early so the Captain would not know of it.
That night Spock dreamt of a young blond boy with startling blue eyes that spoke of loneliness and hurt.
Hurried footsteps sounded urgently from the corridor just before the door chimed twice. Not awaiting a response, the door opened, revealing ensign Janice Rand. Her face was flushed with worry and her lips were slightly parted, ready to report that the Captain was missing.
Taking a step into the room she noticed the state it was in and she began to worry for Spock's safety as well. Walking in further she stopped dead as she saw the two figures on the bed. She was met with an eyeful off barely dressed Captain and First Officer, sleeping soundly entwined with one another.
An arm was slung possessively across Jim's waist, bruises covering the Captain's naked torso. The pairs bare legs were tangled together, and the sheet barely covered the large bruise in the form of a hand on the Captain's hip.
With large eyes she backed out of the room soundlessly and fled, desperate to find Uhura immediately.
When the doors closed, Spock frowned in his sleep as he began to wake. He was pleasantly warm, but his sleep hazed mind told him something was out of the ordinary. Opening an eye he was met with a head full of blond locks.
His eyes widened minutely before the events of the night before came back to him. He hurriedly, but carefully, disentangled himself from Jim, confused about the 'dream' from last night. Feeling an urgent need to meditate Spock got up, ignoring the state of disarray of his quarters, and pulled out his mat. Sitting down he tried to find order in his mind.
A few hours later Jim awoke. Blinking blearily at the sealing, the feeling of something being off hit him. He sat up gingerly, his back hurt like a bitch, and he thought he might have pulled a muscle in his thigh. Grunting he tried to remember how he had gotten back to his quarters.
Suddenly a dark voice said "Lights to seventy percent." and he involuntarily closed his eyes and covered them with the balls of his hands as a whine escaped his lips.
Jim was instantly aware of Spock's presence before he saw him. Pulling his hands away from his eyes he blinked, trying to get used to the new light. "Hi Spock." Jim said, not having the
energy to muster up any kind of surprise in response to Spock being in his room.
Dark eyes observed him intently. "You do not enjoy Valentines." It was a statement, not a question, and Jim frowned.
"What?"
"If the day makes you uncomfortable, you should just say so. It is illogical to endure... loneliness by inebriation."
Jim's eves narrowed and his jaw tightened. "You don't know anything. I don't like being alone, okay?"
Spock took a step closer, his brow in the 'you-are-too-illogical-for-words' position as he peered down at Jim with what could only be described as... pity.
It pissed Jim off.
"If you state that you are to continue with such detrimental behaviour I cannot allow you to do so."
"You have no right to order me around!" Jim yelled, outraged. If he wanted to drink himself piss-drunk on Valentines, it was his business and his alone.
"That may be, but such volatile behaviour is unnecessary, and unbecoming of a Starfleet Officer. I am willing to offer my assistance in the matter."
"What?" He felt like such a broken record, but he had no idea where Spock was taking this.
A patient look crossed Spock's face before he continued. "You appear to be suffering from abandonment anxiety. I am your First Officer. I will not leave you."
Jim's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. He grabbed blindly on the floor and pulled a shirt over his head so he didn't have to face Spock. "Have you been in my head?" He growled.
"Negative. Due to close proximity as we slept, I received a certain amount of transference. I apologize."
Jim didn't comment. Instead he found a pair of pants and pulled them on, wobbling slightly as he stood, pain shooting from his abused back. "Where are we?" He asked, kicking a small ball of glass that flew across the floor. "What's that?"
"We are currently in my quarters. And those are incense-beads I use during meditation. When heated they release, for Vulcans, soothing scent that helps during meditation. They fell last night during our... altercation."
Suddenly Jim's mind was flooded with images from the night before . How he had been drinking planetside. The Orion. How he had tried to hurt Spock. How he had let himself get swept away by frustration, booze and pheromones. How he had begged Spock to stay with him.
The thought made him cringe and he found himself unable to meet Spock's gaze once more.
Besides, Spock had undoubtedly seen too much of Jim's personal life for comfort. Jim really didn't like his secrets 'out there', but at least he knew that Spock would never say anything to someone else about it.
"I... I have to go. Sorry." Jim mumbled before practically fleeing from the room, a slight limp to his walk as the muscle he pulled in his thigh protested at the sudden movement.
Too preoccupied with his own thoughts and internal freak-out, he didn't notice the curious looks his crew gave him, nor did he notice the bright blue science shirt with the rank of 'commander' on the shoulder, that he was currently wearing.
Finding refuge in his room Jim tried to collect his thoughts, but he was sure he would not be able to meet Spock's eyes for a long time.
Two weeks later Jim had mustered up the courage to take the hand of friendship that Spock had extended. The whole crew had known that something was up, and Jim couldn't fault them for giving him a sideways glance or two.
He knew he had been a wreck ever since Valentines, but having your deepest, darkest secrets revealed to your... your friend... could do that to a man.
Once the shift was nearing its end, Jim got up from his chair and walked over to Spock's station.
"Would you like to partake in a game of chess this evening, Mr Spock?" He asked, just as he had rehearsed it a million times.
Looking up from his console, Spock met Jim's eyes with ease, a tiny flicker of approval in the dark depths. "Certainly Captain. Nineteen hundred hours in your cabin?"
"Awesome. And my friends call me Jim, you know."
"Very well, Jim."
Thus began the (supposed) epic romance of Spock and Jim.
The End.
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