[FIC] The Emotional Sensitivity of an Asteroid -- Star Trek
Fandom: Star Trek
Title: The Emotional Sensitivity of an Asteroid
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Chris and Zack call themselves 'Spork')
Rating: PG (13?)
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme: "Spock tries to confess his love in not-so-conventional ways and Kirk just doesn't get it!"
Genre: Comedy/crack, slash, cute/fluff
"Well," I say, frowning in puzzlement, "If you're getting heart palpitations, maybe you should go see Bones." Spock stares at me, obviously disconcerted (though it's probably only obvious to me; most people cannot read his utter lack of facial expression like The Great James T. Kirk.)
"I...Dr.McCoy is most definitely not the cause of these problems." He sounds like I'm insinuating something. Which I'm not. I frown as he continues. "They only appear to occur when I am in your vicinity." he finishes with what seems like a great effort. I consider him for a moment, then wave a dismissive hand at him, hoping he'll leave. Spock needs to stop staring at me with those big, liquid-brown puppy eyes that so do not fit his personality. It's like one of those crappy old terran jokes: 'What do you get when you cross a stuck up asshole with an adorable bunny? Spock, of course.'
One of his eyebrows raises dangerously, and I mentally calculate the probability of imminent strangling based on slope of facial hair. It is fairly high. I'd better figure out what the hell it is he's trying to say. Interestingly, it seems to be taking the Vulcan quite a lot of effort to form words.
"Y-you fail to grasp my meaning." It's the first time I've ever heard him stutter, and I sit up straight, wondering if I miscalculated the eyebrow odds. Or simply miscalculated as to what I was calculating. It could be 'probability of the universe suddenly imploding while Spock gets emotional' rather than simply 'probability of me having man-finger bruises on my neck that make every girl I get into my cabin for the next two weeks ask me if I'm bi (alternatively: probability of strangling.)'
Spock gathers himself for another try, and I actually swivel around in my chair, so that I'm not stuck with my knees under the desk in case I need to make a hasty escape.
"I cannot continue hiding this from you. It is not respectful to either of us." I find myself wondering what he's hiding...he never takes off his uniform, or rips it, even during the most strenuous sparring match with the atmospheric conditioner set to its highest temperature. (no. I was not trying to get him to take off his shirt. I won't go there. I had a perfectly legitimate reason at the time, I just can't remember it right now.) So what's he hiding? A third nipple or something? Is that disrespectful to me?
Maybe I need to study Vulcan culture a bit more. Maybe I could convince him he's being too disrespectful not to take off his pants as well...
I quickly stop that train of thought (in fact, I bomb the 'train' insurgence style) and focus all my attention on the still stuttering Spock. He'd seemed to do better when my chair wasn't turned to face him. His hands, clasped in their customary position behind his back, seemed to twitch.
"Captain...Jim. I think I may have developed emotional bonds with you." Bonds? Uhura had never talked about their sex life, before or after the breakup, but now this had me wondering. Wait. Emotional bonds. the boring kind.
"Of course you have emotional bonds with me, the whole crew has 'emotional bonds' with each other. I mean, if we didn't care about each other at all, how the hell do you think everyone would put up with everyone else's shit? especially being stuck on as starship for five fucking years, together!"
He shoots me with one of those stoic Vulcan looks, the kind that feels like they're vivisecting you at the same time as bemoaning 'the fact that all other lifeforms are so abysmally less intelligent than myself.'
"Look, what's the problem?"
"These...emotional bonds...appear to be uniquely strong." Okay then.
"So use them instead of that super-glue you keep ordering from supply. I don't care how 'fascinating' it is, the stuff is hundreds of years outdated." I give up on trying to get what he's saying, and prepare to turn around in my chair and take the eyebrow's predicted consequences.
Suddenly, his frighteningly strong Vulcan hands are on my shoulders, shaking me slightly, as if my brain being bruised more than it already has in my lifetime will help me understand anything.
"Please. Attempt. To. Comprehend." He grinds out, face flushed a distressed green. His hands are warm on my arms. Vulcan body temperature is naturally a few degrees above that of humans. That must be it. I hold my breath as he continues.
"To use what appear to be the classic Terran terms, I like you."
"Uuh...who doesn't?" He is actually glowering now. I try again. "I like you too, you're really a great first officer, please don't strangle me?"
Suddenly his face is inches from my own and I feel a strangle really coming on, but then starts to speak again...
"I. Want. To. Engage. Insexualintercoursewithyou." I think he choked on one of the last words, and his laboriously maintained blank expression is now decipherable as extreme shame. And it's really kinda cute.
I take a deep breath, and I can see him brace himself for what is coming. I fight down a satisfied grin, and replace it with a frown, wanting this to be a surprise. He can deal with a little more teasing.
"Well..." He sucks in a slightly audible breath as if my voice is a slap to the face. "Why the hell didn't you say so in the first place?!"
First confusion flickers through his eyes, and then intense releif, and he's no longer got my arms in a vice grip as if I need to have an amputation and Bones has asked Spock to be the tourniquet. In fact, he's starting to back away from me, his posture one of tired releif as if he's just completed some extremely difficult feat (like, for him, smiling.)
"Hey! Wait a sec! You can't spend all that time messing around with me, then tell me that, and then just leave!"
"I do not beleive that I was, as you say, 'messing around.' You appear to have the emotional sensitivity of an asteroid." But he's stepping back towards me. I grab the front of his uniform, and tug him down until he's at my eye level.
"That, coming from a vulcan?" I raise a mocking eyebrow, and he raises one back. The nerve.
"I do believe that, despite being less emotional, even the most dysfunctional Vulcan is more intelligent than y-"
There's not really another way to shut him up than with a kiss. Oh. OH. And I don't think I'll be needing to talk for a while either. Not with the way our tongues seem to be able to communicate.
I have the sudden, sneaking suspicious that there are easier ways to get a Vulcan out of his slacks than convincing him that he's being disrespectful.
It turns out I'm right.
END
--------------
A/N:
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
GETTING SOME GOOD OL FIRST PERSON UP IN HURR FOR THE FIRST TIME. yummeh-this was fun to write.
*asleep*
Title: The Emotional Sensitivity of an Asteroid
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Chris and Zack call themselves 'Spork')
Rating: PG (13?)
Summary: Written for this prompt on the kink meme: "Spock tries to confess his love in not-so-conventional ways and Kirk just doesn't get it!"
Genre: Comedy/crack, slash, cute/fluff
"Well," I say, frowning in puzzlement, "If you're getting heart palpitations, maybe you should go see Bones." Spock stares at me, obviously disconcerted (though it's probably only obvious to me; most people cannot read his utter lack of facial expression like The Great James T. Kirk.)
"I...Dr.McCoy is most definitely not the cause of these problems." He sounds like I'm insinuating something. Which I'm not. I frown as he continues. "They only appear to occur when I am in your vicinity." he finishes with what seems like a great effort. I consider him for a moment, then wave a dismissive hand at him, hoping he'll leave. Spock needs to stop staring at me with those big, liquid-brown puppy eyes that so do not fit his personality. It's like one of those crappy old terran jokes: 'What do you get when you cross a stuck up asshole with an adorable bunny? Spock, of course.'
One of his eyebrows raises dangerously, and I mentally calculate the probability of imminent strangling based on slope of facial hair. It is fairly high. I'd better figure out what the hell it is he's trying to say. Interestingly, it seems to be taking the Vulcan quite a lot of effort to form words.
"Y-you fail to grasp my meaning." It's the first time I've ever heard him stutter, and I sit up straight, wondering if I miscalculated the eyebrow odds. Or simply miscalculated as to what I was calculating. It could be 'probability of the universe suddenly imploding while Spock gets emotional' rather than simply 'probability of me having man-finger bruises on my neck that make every girl I get into my cabin for the next two weeks ask me if I'm bi (alternatively: probability of strangling.)'
Spock gathers himself for another try, and I actually swivel around in my chair, so that I'm not stuck with my knees under the desk in case I need to make a hasty escape.
"I cannot continue hiding this from you. It is not respectful to either of us." I find myself wondering what he's hiding...he never takes off his uniform, or rips it, even during the most strenuous sparring match with the atmospheric conditioner set to its highest temperature. (no. I was not trying to get him to take off his shirt. I won't go there. I had a perfectly legitimate reason at the time, I just can't remember it right now.) So what's he hiding? A third nipple or something? Is that disrespectful to me?
Maybe I need to study Vulcan culture a bit more. Maybe I could convince him he's being too disrespectful not to take off his pants as well...
I quickly stop that train of thought (in fact, I bomb the 'train' insurgence style) and focus all my attention on the still stuttering Spock. He'd seemed to do better when my chair wasn't turned to face him. His hands, clasped in their customary position behind his back, seemed to twitch.
"Captain...Jim. I think I may have developed emotional bonds with you." Bonds? Uhura had never talked about their sex life, before or after the breakup, but now this had me wondering. Wait. Emotional bonds. the boring kind.
"Of course you have emotional bonds with me, the whole crew has 'emotional bonds' with each other. I mean, if we didn't care about each other at all, how the hell do you think everyone would put up with everyone else's shit? especially being stuck on as starship for five fucking years, together!"
He shoots me with one of those stoic Vulcan looks, the kind that feels like they're vivisecting you at the same time as bemoaning 'the fact that all other lifeforms are so abysmally less intelligent than myself.'
"Look, what's the problem?"
"These...emotional bonds...appear to be uniquely strong." Okay then.
"So use them instead of that super-glue you keep ordering from supply. I don't care how 'fascinating' it is, the stuff is hundreds of years outdated." I give up on trying to get what he's saying, and prepare to turn around in my chair and take the eyebrow's predicted consequences.
Suddenly, his frighteningly strong Vulcan hands are on my shoulders, shaking me slightly, as if my brain being bruised more than it already has in my lifetime will help me understand anything.
"Please. Attempt. To. Comprehend." He grinds out, face flushed a distressed green. His hands are warm on my arms. Vulcan body temperature is naturally a few degrees above that of humans. That must be it. I hold my breath as he continues.
"To use what appear to be the classic Terran terms, I like you."
"Uuh...who doesn't?" He is actually glowering now. I try again. "I like you too, you're really a great first officer, please don't strangle me?"
Suddenly his face is inches from my own and I feel a strangle really coming on, but then starts to speak again...
"I. Want. To. Engage. Insexualintercoursewithyou." I think he choked on one of the last words, and his laboriously maintained blank expression is now decipherable as extreme shame. And it's really kinda cute.
I take a deep breath, and I can see him brace himself for what is coming. I fight down a satisfied grin, and replace it with a frown, wanting this to be a surprise. He can deal with a little more teasing.
"Well..." He sucks in a slightly audible breath as if my voice is a slap to the face. "Why the hell didn't you say so in the first place?!"
First confusion flickers through his eyes, and then intense releif, and he's no longer got my arms in a vice grip as if I need to have an amputation and Bones has asked Spock to be the tourniquet. In fact, he's starting to back away from me, his posture one of tired releif as if he's just completed some extremely difficult feat (like, for him, smiling.)
"Hey! Wait a sec! You can't spend all that time messing around with me, then tell me that, and then just leave!"
"I do not beleive that I was, as you say, 'messing around.' You appear to have the emotional sensitivity of an asteroid." But he's stepping back towards me. I grab the front of his uniform, and tug him down until he's at my eye level.
"That, coming from a vulcan?" I raise a mocking eyebrow, and he raises one back. The nerve.
"I do believe that, despite being less emotional, even the most dysfunctional Vulcan is more intelligent than y-"
There's not really another way to shut him up than with a kiss. Oh. OH. And I don't think I'll be needing to talk for a while either. Not with the way our tongues seem to be able to communicate.
I have the sudden, sneaking suspicious that there are easier ways to get a Vulcan out of his slacks than convincing him that he's being disrespectful.
It turns out I'm right.
END
--------------
A/N:
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
GETTING SOME GOOD OL FIRST PERSON UP IN HURR FOR THE FIRST TIME. yummeh-this was fun to write.
*asleep*