FIC: Strategic Retreat #4 (The River in Egypt series , K/S)
Title: Strategic Retreat
by Keelywolfe
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Word Count: 6000
NC-17
Summary: Kirk's POV set directly after 'Going Mental'.
Part 1: Heat
Part 2: Going Mental
Part 3: Systematic Denial
~~*~~
There were occasional perks to being good friends with someone on the senior medical staff. Like the times, including today, when Bones would have generosity of spirit to stop by and visit a very hung-over friend with a hypospray filled with a few cc's of liquid love.
The only problem with it was that Bones came attached to the hypospray and Jim wasn't entirely sure that McCoy was capable of giving an injection without a running commentary, (today's speech was being delivered with what Jim was sure was excessive volume and vitriol), until the cool rush of a true medical marvel made its way through his system and he began to feel a little more human and a little less like he'd been used as a dance floor.
Normally, Bones would deliver his medicine and his oh, so valuable advice on the state of Jim's anatomy, his brain, and McCoy's own busy schedule that didn't have time to save Jim from his own dumb-assed-ness all the damned time, and then he would leave, so the fact that Bones was still sitting at the side of his bed was worrisome. Add the fact that McCoy has fallen silent and Jim felt a pang of genuine alarm.
"Oh, God, someone's dead, aren't they," Jim blurted out.
McCoy's sour look was gratifyingly reassuring. "No one is dead, Jim."
"Then why are you still here?" he groaned, and rolled back over into his blankets. His head and his stomach were once again on speaking terms with him, but no medication was a good replacement for sleep.
"Because," Rough hands tore away his blanket in spite of his yowl of protest when the cold air hit. "Half the damned Admirals in the Fleet have been trying to get a hold of you for the past two hours. They want to have a conference with you about some damned thing and because I am your damned medical officer, they called me out of bed to find out what the hell is wrong with you. Fortunately, I already knew what the hell was wrong with you and now that it's taken care of, get out of bed so I can get back into mine."
"I could order you to go with me," Jim grumbled.
"Letting the power get to your head already?" McCoy drawled chidingly. "Assumes I'd listen, anyway. Now get up, you've got things to do today, Captain."
Could this morning get any worse? Woke up with a hangover, no orgasm from a handsy Vulcan, and now he had to go talk to a bunch of Admirals who had to be stuffed into their uniforms every morning.
Thinking of Vulcans made him remember the only two who were actually in his acquaintance-or was it one? Did two Spocks count as only one distinct person or did the argument about time line changes mean they were separate individuals? And what the hell did it matter, anyway; so far his running tally where both of them were concerned was sadly lacking. At least the older Spock had put out a little.
Jim grunted as an elbow suddenly caught him in the ribs, awkwardly scooting over as Bones, having apparently decided that he wasn't going to wait for him to work through his morning sexual epiphany, instead sagged down on the bed next to him with a snarled, "If you aren't getting up, then move over. My damned quarters are two floors up."
A short battle ensued over the blanket until both of them managed to get the proper ratio of not nearly enough, various limbs hanging off the bed that wasn't made for two, even if they were exceptionally good friends. A minute passed, and then two, before Jim finally opened his eyes and squinted at his new bedmate, one who he was guessing was also not going to put out. So far, this day was going for broke in making it the worst ever.
But wait a second, this was Bones, his friend, his confidant, the creamer in his coffee--no, that was a little much. Anyway, they were friends. He could ask Bones about it. No, really, he could.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Can I stop you?" Came dryly from where McCoy was half-buried in the blankets.
Jim wet his lips, flinching at the dry rasp of his tongue. If Bones had really loved him, he'd have brought him a glass of water along with the hypospray because no amount of medication was going to rehydrate him. "See, I know this guy. He's a starship captain, too, crazy coincidence--"
"Yeah, crazy. Get to the point, Jim, what have you gotten yourself into now?"
Well, if he was going to get all huffy about it... "Okay, fine, what do you know about Vulcan--"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"Absolutely not," Bones lifted his head up enough to be heard very clearly. "You're going to ask me something about sex and you just included the word Vulcan in it. This conversation is not happening."
"How..." Jim sputtered, "What makes you think I was asking about sex?"
"You opened your mouth and words came out. Just no. And come in and update your vaccines before you try anything, all right?"
Jim blinked. "Seriously? What do Vulcans have--"
McCoy snorted. "Vulcans haven't had a venereal disease since their version of the Middle Ages. Whoever it is, and I am damned well not thinking about it, would probably like to keep it that way. So come in, first."
"I hate you," Jim told him earnestly. It was worth abusing his dry throat to say this. "I'm revoking your right to call yourself my best friend. I've always hated you. I hope the next time you have to get on a transport, you-"
The floor was astonishingly hard when Jim fell on it, having been pushed out of the bed very firmly by his former best friend.
"Get going," Bones grumbled. "Otherwise, Lord only knows who else they are going to send to look for you and your bed is too small for a party."
Jim Kirk didn't believe in no-win scenarios, this was true, but he did know when to call for a strategic retreat. He gave the bed one last sorrowful look before he staggered to his feet in the direction of the bathroom. Somehow, he thought that making haste to whatever the hell meeting this was didn't mean he should show up without bathing first.
Come to think of it, he wouldn't be surprised if that was what had chased Spock out earlier. Somehow, he didn't think a species that hadn't had a venereal disease in a thousand years would be easily seduced by someone who smelled like the inside of a whiskey bottle.
~*~
Three hours later and Jim was wishing that he had gone without the shower because then maybe they wouldn't have taken so damned long to tell him that repairs on the Enterprise wouldn't be complete for another week. Oh, sure, they'd had some other information, going on and on about integrity and expectations, and Jim had managed to look serious through most of it. Serious or constipated, it was probably a toss-up but since none of the Admiralty had seemed to notice anything was amiss, it probably didn’t matter much.
Except Pike, of course, but Jim had never bothered to pretend to be anything else than who he was for Pike. In return, Pike had not smiled or indicated in any way that he believed Jim was bullshitting them with all his nods of agreement, and ignored the way Jim gave the door an occasional longing glance. When they finally dismissed him, Jim had left so fast there had probably been a vacuum in the shape of his body left behind.
Okay, so he'd probably left in a bit of a rush, but as they say, tough shit on that one. No doubt they'd drag him out of bed enough times in the coming future to pay for that little indiscretion.
There was a cheerful thought.
Jim leaned against the wall of the lift, whistling absently as it made its way to the ground floor. Tempting as bed was, the food synthesizer in his quarters wasn't equipped for any quality food and that sounded a lot more appealing at this point in the day. That was, until the lift doors open and another person strode in, hair and uniform just as perfect as it had been that morning and really, how was it that he hadn't seen Spock the entire time he'd been at the Academy before and now they were practically falling out of each other's pockets?
It was obviously karma, Jim decided. Maybe the day was looking up, after all.
"Afternoon, Commander!" Jim offered, cheerily, letting his eyes drift down the rigid line of Spock's back. Had to say one thing for him, he did wear the uniform well.
"Captain," came the stiff reply. Spock didn't even glance at him.
Well, that was friendly. So much for karma. You would think that saving the whole planet would have worked off a little of his youthful indiscretions. Jim was damned if he was going to leave it at that with a guy who had just been licking his tonsils earlier in the day. "Day going well? Working on anything important? Mind telling me what it was you saw in my head earlier?"
"Yes. Nothing that you would find interesting. I do not wish to discuss it." The computer's voice had more emotion to it than Spock's and his eyes never left the doors of the lift.
"Yeah, you didn't want to talk about it before, either," Jim said agreeably, "I mean, the other you. The older one who isn't you." Spock was statue still, ostensibly ignoring him and Jim let his voice drop a little as he added, "You know, the you that fucked me."
There. Spock's expression never changed, not a hair turned but the hands clasped at the small of his back tightened just the slightest bit, knuckles whitening faintly before they deliberately relaxed. Jim decided that Vulcan baiting was definitely his new favorite hobby.
He started to add a comment on how he'd already had this Spock, his Spock, on top of him twice already without sex and wasn't that enough of a tease, when the lift suddenly stopped. He and Spock both glanced up in the way that people did when technology failed them unexpectedly; some gestures seemed general to all species. After a short pause, the soothing voice of the computer came through.
"Attention all Starfleet Cadets," said Generic Female Voice #3. "We are currently engaging in a simulated battle drill. Those who are familiar with protocol are encouraged to participate. Visitors to the Academy should remain where they are until the drill reaches its conclusion no later than one standard hour from now. For emergencies, please contact the Medical facilities. Thank you for your patience."
"They're having a battle drill now?" Jim said in disbelief. They were still recovering from the enormous losses barely a week past. It seemed like every other person Jim had walked past recently was a fresh faced cadet in a brand new uniform, how many people could possibly know what to do during a drill?
Spock made a little move that in anyone else, Jim would call it shrug. "It is logical to begin training new cadets in battle techniques quickly to ensure they will be prepared in the event there is another unexpected incident. The losses at Vulcan have left both Starfleet and the Federation in a vulnerable state."
That actually almost made sense. A flush of excitement made Jim grin as he rubbed his hands together and considered the quickest way out of the lift. A battle drill was really just an elaborate game of capture the flag and Jim had been well on his way to becoming the record holder in most wins before his unexpected promotion. No reason to let a little thing like graduating get in the way of that though, now was there.
There was an emergency hatch in the ceiling that was too high for Jim to reach on his own. "Hey, give me a boost," he ordered, nudging Spock with his elbow.
Spock gave him a look that managed to be both coolly superior and mildly irritated at the same time. "The standard protocol for those not engaged in the drill is to remain in their current location."
"Yeah, well, we're getting involved. Come on, boost me up."
True to his nature, Spock didn't move and Jim blew out an exasperated breath. As far as he was concerned, the translation of 'logical' from Vulcan to Standard was really 'pain in the ass'.
"I could make it an order," Jim grumbled.
Unfortunately, Spock seemed to respect his authority only slightly less than Bones did. "I suspect that you are unlikely to report me for insubordination in this matter. Captain."
All right, fine then. Time to pull out the big guns.
"You're right," Jim conceded with a nod, leaning against the wall of the lift and crossing his arms over his chest. "We should stay here. It'll give us time to talk more."
Spock turned towards him abruptly and Jim could only stare at his expression, more than a little impressed with the results. Holy shit, an eyebrow twitch AND a nostril flare over that? What the hell was sitting in the back of his head, anyway?
"That will be unnecessary," Spock told him and if he sounded strained, Jim decided that he could be gracious enough to let it go. For now. "Let me assist you."
"Thank you, Commander," Jim said sweetly. Okay, so he wasn't that gracious.
It was just a shame that Spock seemed to think that 'assisting' meant grabbing him and shoving him up in the direction of the ceiling. Maybe he needed a refresher course in Standard because Jim barely had time to yelp and brace his hands against the ceiling before he smacked his head on the tiles.
"Careful!" Jim snapped, "I'm just getting over the last round of bruises you gave me!" The ones on his hips were still fading, come to think of it, but then, that had been a different Spock.
"My apologies, Captain." Which of course didn't sound like an apology at all. Damned Vulcans. And of course the latch seemed to be stuck because that was how this day was going, now wasn't it. He was suspended in the air by an irritated Vulcan who seemed determined to smash his face into the ceiling under the pretense of shifting his weight and since his uniform pants were made of that slippery flame-retardant material that Starfleet insisted on using, (still a red cadet's uniform, too, damned laundry facilities) Spock had to shift his grip to keep from dropping him and...oh.
Um. Yeah.
Jim wondered if it would be too suspicious if he asked Spock to move his hand just a tiny bit to the left.
No, better not to. Instead, he made a feeble attempt at opening the hatch again and tried to ignore the fact that Spock's hand, his very warm, very strong hand, had a very firm grip on his upper, upper thigh. Yeah, just ignore it, Jim, he probably doesn't even know what he's-
James Kirk found out the precise moment when Spock realized the location of his hand because that was the exact same moment that Spock chose to drop him. This time he did manage to gurgle out a yelp before he hit the floor, wincing as he sat up and automatically began cataloguing his brand new, barely used collection of bruises.
"Captain! I am sorry, I-"
Jim cut him off with a wave of his hand, groaning as he rubbed his tailbone gingerly. "Forget it, the hatch wasn't opening anyway." Damn, he wasn't going to be able to sit for a week, and not for a good reason either. Damned Vulcans was going to become the catchphrase of the day, Jim was sure. "And would you call me Jim? If you aren't going to obey orders you might as well give up on the titles for the moment."
Spock was crouched next to him, hands fluttering for the briefest second like he was contemplating helping Jim to his feet. Instead, they settled on his own thighs, gripping slightly. "Very well...Jim."
A huge concession, Jim decided, a little giddily. Well worth a sore ass. Now if only he could-but never mind that right now. "Okay, the hatch is out. Let's try something new."
He took a moment to study the panel that hid the lift wiring, considering. Tucked into the lining of his boot was a tiny pouch and Jim pulled it out, selecting a slender tool and going to work on the locking mechanism. He barely glanced at Spock when he leaned in, eyes alight with curiosity.
"I assume you are going to attempt to rewire the lift controls?"
"Yeah," Jim grunted, blinking sweat out of his eyes. The environmental controls seemed to be shut down along with everything else and this part was delicate, the finest tremor in his lockpick warning him that he was close to either getting it open or breaking the pick. "If I can unlock it."
"Would it be counterproductive if I inquire as to how you are familiar with this technique, as well as possessing the tools?"
"You didn't think I spent the last three years reading textbooks, did you?" Jim spared a second to flash him a grin. Almost, almost...
Spock arched a brow at him. "Indeed? I would have thought it had more to do with your criminal record prior to entering the Academy."
The sweet satisfaction that came when the tiny panel swung open was all but obscured as Jim swung around to glare at a certain smug Vulcan, "And how the fuck do you know about that? Those records are sealed."
At least the smugness dropped off his face but that left Spock expressionless as he stated, "I have a higher security access than-"
"Bullshit! The only way you can know about that is if you hacked the personnel files," Jim glared a minute longer, the tension between them thick and unpleasant before he finally broke it, throwing back his head and laughing. "And you called me a cheater! You broke into my file and read about me before my trial, didn't you? Admit it!"
Spock's eyes clearly told him that he'd have better luck trying to seduce Admiral Pike than that occurring. "The simulation has been underway for approximately fifteen point three-five minutes. If it is your intention to join it, you may wish to hurry."
"You just have to be right every time, don't you," Jim muttered. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he reached into the panel and gently pulled the interface card out enough to look at it. "Okay, unless they’ve changed it, it should just be a matter of switching these two wires-"
Immediately an alarm sounded and the lights went out, plunging them into darkness before the red emergency lights came on and left them bathed in eerie crimson.
"Warning!" Generic Female Voice #3 told them soothingly, "You are attempting to engage in an illegal behavior as outlined in the battle drill protocol manual. Please desist at this time or you will be disqualified."
"Damn!" Jim swore disgustedly, "I should have known they'd fix that after the last drill." He sank back on his heels, chewing his lip as he considered, "Maybe if I-"
"Captain," Spock interrupted tersely. "Aside from possible disqualification, I would like to remind you that the lift brakes are likely connected to that same panel and that by my calculations, we are not on the ground floor."
"I know what I'm doing!" Jim snapped. Damned Vulcans, damned lifts and drills, just...damn everything because today was just the worst, okay? Rotten to the core and then some. "Why don’t you just enjoy the view of me on my knees and let me do this?"
"I-" Whatever he had been about to say, Spock bit it off and turned away stiffly, a clear sign that Jim should leave well enough alone and get to work on getting the door open. Only Jim had never been very good at leaving things alone and sometimes that was a useful trait, one that led to him bursting onto ship's bridges and saving everyone's butts but sometimes-
"You did seem to enjoy the view with a few years on you," Jim added, letting the goad in his words shine in his eyes as he watched Spock, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. "You enjoyed the feel, too. But you must already know that, what with peeking in on my thoughts this morning."
"I am unfamiliar as to your sexual activities with my alternate self," Spock said, and if Jim had thought his voice was tight earlier, then this time his voice was wound to the breaking point.
"Really? How do you not know, you were poking around in my brain."
"I was looking for specific information," Spock told him and that was a legitimate snap, the barest edge of anger coming through. "I did not access every memory you have or, indeed, your more recent ones involving my counterpart."
Huh, that was interesting. At least now he knew what Spock hadn't seen when he was roaming through his deepest, most intimate thoughts searching for tidbits like it was an open buffet. Only now Spock was breathing a little too fast, echoing softly in the confines of the lift. Maybe time to back off a little then. It wasn't like he had the pater familias hanging around in the background this time to save him if Spock decided his bones needed a little rearranging.
"Too bad you missed the show," Jim said, lightly, as he leaned back over the panel. Now he really wanted out of this lift and it had nothing to do with wanting to break a record.
And yes, he felt the touch of coolness that meant his shirt had ridden up when he leaned over, knew exactly what it looked like because he'd seen the same thing on a hundred other cadets. Whoever designed their uniforms hadn't taken into consideration all of the dirty work that cadets had to get into because the shirts were just this side of too short and he could imagine easily what Spock was seeing. A tiny strip of pale bare skin at the small of his back, probably barely visible in the emergency lights, but even knowing it didn't mean he was really considering it, his focus completely on the wiring.
Until he felt the lightest of touches right there, fingertips just grazing his bare skin and Jim went completely still, swallowing a little at the surprisingly intimate touch. Okay, yeah, he'd wanted sex earlier with Spock, hell, he wanted it now, but this was falling just on the off side of bizarre and Spock was breathing hard, shockingly loud in the small, too-hot room as he abruptly pushed Jim's shirt further up, spreading his hand out on the newly exposed skin.
"Um," Jim tried, an embarrassingly small squeak of sound because shit, he really was on his knees and Spock was behind him, both hands on him now, sweeping almost feverishly over his naked back and shoving his shirt up until it was almost over Jim's head.
Wait, this is a bad idea, this is sort of in public, what about the drill...a million flittering, unspoken things that probably wouldn't have mattered anyway as Spock grabbed him by the hips and hauled him backwards, hot hands sliding around him to fumble at the fastenings at his pants before, oh, fuck, he just mangled the button off and tossed it aside, yanking Jim's pants down around his thighs so that he was completely snarled in his uniform, still hampered by his shirt around his shoulders.
"Hey, I-" Jim started as he pushed up on his elbows because he had to put up at least a token protest. Only a hard hand at the back of his neck shoving him back to the floor pretty much put an end to that and all right, then, he could take a hint. Hold still and take it like a man. And maybe he should be getting used to Spocks fucking him in unexpected ways. At least here was a lot warmer than the ice caves of Delta Vega.
Spock's weight was surprisingly heavy against his back as he all but sprawled over Jim, a hard knee pushing between his legs to force them apart as far as his bunched pants would allow. All Jim could do was grunt, bracing his arms against the floor as Spock's hands moved over him almost uncertainly, stroking down his bare chest and faltering over his stomach, sifting lightly through the soft line of hair there.
Maybe he should have guessed that Spock almost certainly hadn't done this before. The other him was so old that he'd probably done everything there was to do in the whole damned galaxy, maybe everybody there was, too, but this Spock was still fresh and sharp from his box of crayons, and his uncertainly was palpable, he was... oh fuck, biting the back of Jim's neck, breath blowing hard across the nape as he licked and sucked bruises into his abused skin until Jim thought he might lose his mind.
"Yeah," Jim panted, burying his face into the crook of his arm, even as he tipped his head to the side to let Spock nip sharply at a fresh place. "Yeah, come on, that's good, that-"
Another hard shove between his shoulder blades rocked him. "Be silent."
No talking, got it. He might have argued about it, might have reminded Spock of exactly who was supposed to be the one who gave orders around here if Spock hadn't chosen to push up on his knees, his hands withdrawing from Jim to fumble between them at the fastenings of his own trousers.
He felt as much as heard Spock's sigh of relief, felt the hot touch of his cock against the cleft of his ass. It would hurt like this, dry and unprepared but fuck if Jim wasn't already pushing back against it, biting his lip in anticipation. Come on, he chanted in his head, come on, you cheating pointy-eared bastard, do it, do it, could barely remember the last time he'd wanted this so fucking much. Not even knee-deep in ice and snow but that memory was shaky, undependable, half-lost in some blank place in his mind that two Vulcans wouldn't allow him to see.
The fabric of Spock's uniform pants chafed the insides of his thighs, rough weave against his bare ass as Spock pushed against him, rubbed his cock in the cleft but not inside, leaking moisture against him. It wasn't what Jim had wanted, not quite, not enough, but any protest died on his own gasp as Spock's too-hot fingers slipped between his legs again. It didn't matter if his grip was clumsy, and almost brutally tight, slick with Jim's own leaking fluids. Didn't matter that Spock was gasping like he was going to die, thrusting against him but not in him, dammit, but the light behind his eyes was already going golden and warm, the intensity of it ratcheting higher and higher until Jim was biting his own arm, stifling a shout as he came.
Hot, oh, fuck, so hot spurts against his bare ass and the small of his back, and Spock's groan was hissed out from between clenched teeth, one hand smoothing shakily down Jim's side like he was soothing or maybe he just wanted to feel him, just a little more.
Jim pressed his sweaty face against the coolness of the floor and tried to locate enough brain cells to move. He had maybe a handful gathered together when Spock jerked away from him, quick rustling sounds indicating that he was straightening his own clothing briskly.
As if to prove that the universe had it out for him, the lights flickered back on and Generic Female Voice #3 came back over the speaker, "The battle drill is now at an end. We would like to thank the participants for their contribution and our visitors for their patience. A list of our winners will be issued in one standard hour. Thank you for your time."
Immediately the lift lurched back to life, taking them down to the ground floor where a large collection of students and visitors were probably waiting. Obviously, the universe didn't want him dead or that would have gone off last week. Base humiliation, on the other hand, was going to be made available in wide variety.
Half-staggering to his feet, Jim yanked his sagging pants up, arranging them the best he could around his hips. There wasn't a damned thing he could do about the ruined button or the wrinkles or...Jim glanced over his shoulder and sighed mentally. Or the stains, right.
Spock, on the other hand, looked impeccable, without even smudges of dust on his knees. He looked Jim up and down, quirking one eyebrow upward and at that particular moment, Jim could have cheerfully murdered him. Just a tiny little murder and surely there wasn't a Human on the planet who wouldn't understand.
They had probably a minute before the doors opened, less than a minute, and Jim decided that all tact and decency had been lost long before this, probably when Spock had walked into his quarters this morning and gotten a good view of him in his skivvies. Might as well go for broke and try one more time.
"Okay, I'm not exactly complaining here but do you mind telling me why neither one of you will explain what in my brain is making Vulcans treat me like I have a fuck-me button on my cerebral cortex?"Jim asked, a little tiredly. "Only, I'd like to know because I hear that more Vulcans have signed up for the Academy and if I'm going to get rolled on my knees every time I brush brains with one, I'd like to know why."
"You have nothing to worry yourself over where other Vulcans are concerned," Spock informed him tightly. He'd drawn into himself so forcefully that Jim couldn't see the barest shine of his thoughts in his eyes
"So it's just you then, is that it?" Silence. "I've got your teeth marks on me and your come drying on my ass, and you won't tell me why," Jim said, deliberately crude, trying to bring at least the anger back, something, something because he could be free with his body, that was fine, but he was getting a little tired of these two fucking with his mind.
Spock's lips barely tightened, his eyes focused forward, and suddenly Jim was just tired. Tired of playing a game where no one was bothering to tell him the rules.
"You know something? I don't think you like me very much," Jim said, softly. Dark eyes flickered towards him, an involuntary little twitch. "I think he told you what he told me. We're supposed to be great friends who do great deeds but you know what? I don't really care. That was then and this is now. Whatever you saw in my head doesn't matter a damned bit. If you want to sleep with me, fine. If you don't, that's fine, too. But you need to make up your mind, Commander."
And maybe karma decided he could use just a little break today because it chose to let the doors open exactly at that moment to a perfectly empty hallway so that he could make a really good dramatic exit.
"Captain-" From behind him, hesitantly, as he strode through the door but to hell with that. If karma saw fit to let him make a clean getaway, then there was no way Jim wasn't going along with it. He walked down the corridor just this side of hastily, half-grateful that there wasn't anyone to see him in his rumpled uniform. Not that he cared that much and not like no one had seen him like this before but he was betting that not too many people walked out of a lift looking like this with Spock right behind them.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder just long enough to see that Spock had chosen not to chase him through the hallways. Jim shrugged a little, whistling faintly as he made his way to the other set of lifts down the hall so that he could change into something a little less abused. His hair was probably standing up in sweaty clumps, there was a ring of bruises aching at the back of his neck and everything from the waist down felt uncomfortably sweaty and damp.
Oh, yeah, and Spock had made him come all over the floor of a lift so hard his hair had practically curled.
Really, for being the worst day ever, it wasn't going so bad, now was it.
Although he might just owe Bones an apology, maybe even all of Vulcan society, for not getting a physical first. But no use crying over possible-but-not-probable infection and corruption; right now he needed a long, hot shower before karma decided he could use a kick right in his bruised ass.
Stepping into the lift, Jim pushed the button for his floor and keyed in his emergency security code so that it wouldn't stop to let anyone else on. To hell with respect, it was good to be a captain if it could help him quickly get into a clean pair of pants.
"Captain James T. Kirk," said Generic Female Voice #3 over the intercom. "You have a message from Admiral Pike."
"Go ahead," Jim said, warily, and it obliged.
"Thank you for not participating in the most recent battle drill. It is my sincerest hope that you were not too inconvenienced by remaining in the lift for the allotted time--"
"Son of a bitch," Jim muttered as the pleasant voice went on relentlessly.
"We hope that for the remainder of your leave as the Enterprise is refitted, you are able to comport yourself without intervention. Your understanding is appreciated. And son," the computer's generated voice changed abruptly into Pike's real one, soothing falseness switching to true amusement. "Get some sleep."
"Yes, sir," Jim replied with a sigh, slouching against the lift wall. Vulcans and Admirals and drills, oh, my. Worst. Day. Ever.
Fuck it. He was going back to bed to sleep the sleep of the karmically challenged. Tomorrow he'd see what he could make of this mess but for right now? He was going to exert whatever new authority he had to hide in his quarters for a little while. That was his version of logical, damn it, and any Vulcan of his acquaintance who didn’t like it could cram it.
Tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow was soon enough. Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios but he knew, damn, how he knew, when to call for a strategic retreat.
TBC
by Keelywolfe
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Word Count: 6000
NC-17
Summary: Kirk's POV set directly after 'Going Mental'.
Part 1: Heat
Part 2: Going Mental
Part 3: Systematic Denial
~~*~~
There were occasional perks to being good friends with someone on the senior medical staff. Like the times, including today, when Bones would have generosity of spirit to stop by and visit a very hung-over friend with a hypospray filled with a few cc's of liquid love.
The only problem with it was that Bones came attached to the hypospray and Jim wasn't entirely sure that McCoy was capable of giving an injection without a running commentary, (today's speech was being delivered with what Jim was sure was excessive volume and vitriol), until the cool rush of a true medical marvel made its way through his system and he began to feel a little more human and a little less like he'd been used as a dance floor.
Normally, Bones would deliver his medicine and his oh, so valuable advice on the state of Jim's anatomy, his brain, and McCoy's own busy schedule that didn't have time to save Jim from his own dumb-assed-ness all the damned time, and then he would leave, so the fact that Bones was still sitting at the side of his bed was worrisome. Add the fact that McCoy has fallen silent and Jim felt a pang of genuine alarm.
"Oh, God, someone's dead, aren't they," Jim blurted out.
McCoy's sour look was gratifyingly reassuring. "No one is dead, Jim."
"Then why are you still here?" he groaned, and rolled back over into his blankets. His head and his stomach were once again on speaking terms with him, but no medication was a good replacement for sleep.
"Because," Rough hands tore away his blanket in spite of his yowl of protest when the cold air hit. "Half the damned Admirals in the Fleet have been trying to get a hold of you for the past two hours. They want to have a conference with you about some damned thing and because I am your damned medical officer, they called me out of bed to find out what the hell is wrong with you. Fortunately, I already knew what the hell was wrong with you and now that it's taken care of, get out of bed so I can get back into mine."
"I could order you to go with me," Jim grumbled.
"Letting the power get to your head already?" McCoy drawled chidingly. "Assumes I'd listen, anyway. Now get up, you've got things to do today, Captain."
Could this morning get any worse? Woke up with a hangover, no orgasm from a handsy Vulcan, and now he had to go talk to a bunch of Admirals who had to be stuffed into their uniforms every morning.
Thinking of Vulcans made him remember the only two who were actually in his acquaintance-or was it one? Did two Spocks count as only one distinct person or did the argument about time line changes mean they were separate individuals? And what the hell did it matter, anyway; so far his running tally where both of them were concerned was sadly lacking. At least the older Spock had put out a little.
Jim grunted as an elbow suddenly caught him in the ribs, awkwardly scooting over as Bones, having apparently decided that he wasn't going to wait for him to work through his morning sexual epiphany, instead sagged down on the bed next to him with a snarled, "If you aren't getting up, then move over. My damned quarters are two floors up."
A short battle ensued over the blanket until both of them managed to get the proper ratio of not nearly enough, various limbs hanging off the bed that wasn't made for two, even if they were exceptionally good friends. A minute passed, and then two, before Jim finally opened his eyes and squinted at his new bedmate, one who he was guessing was also not going to put out. So far, this day was going for broke in making it the worst ever.
But wait a second, this was Bones, his friend, his confidant, the creamer in his coffee--no, that was a little much. Anyway, they were friends. He could ask Bones about it. No, really, he could.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Can I stop you?" Came dryly from where McCoy was half-buried in the blankets.
Jim wet his lips, flinching at the dry rasp of his tongue. If Bones had really loved him, he'd have brought him a glass of water along with the hypospray because no amount of medication was going to rehydrate him. "See, I know this guy. He's a starship captain, too, crazy coincidence--"
"Yeah, crazy. Get to the point, Jim, what have you gotten yourself into now?"
Well, if he was going to get all huffy about it... "Okay, fine, what do you know about Vulcan--"
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"Absolutely not," Bones lifted his head up enough to be heard very clearly. "You're going to ask me something about sex and you just included the word Vulcan in it. This conversation is not happening."
"How..." Jim sputtered, "What makes you think I was asking about sex?"
"You opened your mouth and words came out. Just no. And come in and update your vaccines before you try anything, all right?"
Jim blinked. "Seriously? What do Vulcans have--"
McCoy snorted. "Vulcans haven't had a venereal disease since their version of the Middle Ages. Whoever it is, and I am damned well not thinking about it, would probably like to keep it that way. So come in, first."
"I hate you," Jim told him earnestly. It was worth abusing his dry throat to say this. "I'm revoking your right to call yourself my best friend. I've always hated you. I hope the next time you have to get on a transport, you-"
The floor was astonishingly hard when Jim fell on it, having been pushed out of the bed very firmly by his former best friend.
"Get going," Bones grumbled. "Otherwise, Lord only knows who else they are going to send to look for you and your bed is too small for a party."
Jim Kirk didn't believe in no-win scenarios, this was true, but he did know when to call for a strategic retreat. He gave the bed one last sorrowful look before he staggered to his feet in the direction of the bathroom. Somehow, he thought that making haste to whatever the hell meeting this was didn't mean he should show up without bathing first.
Come to think of it, he wouldn't be surprised if that was what had chased Spock out earlier. Somehow, he didn't think a species that hadn't had a venereal disease in a thousand years would be easily seduced by someone who smelled like the inside of a whiskey bottle.
~*~
Three hours later and Jim was wishing that he had gone without the shower because then maybe they wouldn't have taken so damned long to tell him that repairs on the Enterprise wouldn't be complete for another week. Oh, sure, they'd had some other information, going on and on about integrity and expectations, and Jim had managed to look serious through most of it. Serious or constipated, it was probably a toss-up but since none of the Admiralty had seemed to notice anything was amiss, it probably didn’t matter much.
Except Pike, of course, but Jim had never bothered to pretend to be anything else than who he was for Pike. In return, Pike had not smiled or indicated in any way that he believed Jim was bullshitting them with all his nods of agreement, and ignored the way Jim gave the door an occasional longing glance. When they finally dismissed him, Jim had left so fast there had probably been a vacuum in the shape of his body left behind.
Okay, so he'd probably left in a bit of a rush, but as they say, tough shit on that one. No doubt they'd drag him out of bed enough times in the coming future to pay for that little indiscretion.
There was a cheerful thought.
Jim leaned against the wall of the lift, whistling absently as it made its way to the ground floor. Tempting as bed was, the food synthesizer in his quarters wasn't equipped for any quality food and that sounded a lot more appealing at this point in the day. That was, until the lift doors open and another person strode in, hair and uniform just as perfect as it had been that morning and really, how was it that he hadn't seen Spock the entire time he'd been at the Academy before and now they were practically falling out of each other's pockets?
It was obviously karma, Jim decided. Maybe the day was looking up, after all.
"Afternoon, Commander!" Jim offered, cheerily, letting his eyes drift down the rigid line of Spock's back. Had to say one thing for him, he did wear the uniform well.
"Captain," came the stiff reply. Spock didn't even glance at him.
Well, that was friendly. So much for karma. You would think that saving the whole planet would have worked off a little of his youthful indiscretions. Jim was damned if he was going to leave it at that with a guy who had just been licking his tonsils earlier in the day. "Day going well? Working on anything important? Mind telling me what it was you saw in my head earlier?"
"Yes. Nothing that you would find interesting. I do not wish to discuss it." The computer's voice had more emotion to it than Spock's and his eyes never left the doors of the lift.
"Yeah, you didn't want to talk about it before, either," Jim said agreeably, "I mean, the other you. The older one who isn't you." Spock was statue still, ostensibly ignoring him and Jim let his voice drop a little as he added, "You know, the you that fucked me."
There. Spock's expression never changed, not a hair turned but the hands clasped at the small of his back tightened just the slightest bit, knuckles whitening faintly before they deliberately relaxed. Jim decided that Vulcan baiting was definitely his new favorite hobby.
He started to add a comment on how he'd already had this Spock, his Spock, on top of him twice already without sex and wasn't that enough of a tease, when the lift suddenly stopped. He and Spock both glanced up in the way that people did when technology failed them unexpectedly; some gestures seemed general to all species. After a short pause, the soothing voice of the computer came through.
"Attention all Starfleet Cadets," said Generic Female Voice #3. "We are currently engaging in a simulated battle drill. Those who are familiar with protocol are encouraged to participate. Visitors to the Academy should remain where they are until the drill reaches its conclusion no later than one standard hour from now. For emergencies, please contact the Medical facilities. Thank you for your patience."
"They're having a battle drill now?" Jim said in disbelief. They were still recovering from the enormous losses barely a week past. It seemed like every other person Jim had walked past recently was a fresh faced cadet in a brand new uniform, how many people could possibly know what to do during a drill?
Spock made a little move that in anyone else, Jim would call it shrug. "It is logical to begin training new cadets in battle techniques quickly to ensure they will be prepared in the event there is another unexpected incident. The losses at Vulcan have left both Starfleet and the Federation in a vulnerable state."
That actually almost made sense. A flush of excitement made Jim grin as he rubbed his hands together and considered the quickest way out of the lift. A battle drill was really just an elaborate game of capture the flag and Jim had been well on his way to becoming the record holder in most wins before his unexpected promotion. No reason to let a little thing like graduating get in the way of that though, now was there.
There was an emergency hatch in the ceiling that was too high for Jim to reach on his own. "Hey, give me a boost," he ordered, nudging Spock with his elbow.
Spock gave him a look that managed to be both coolly superior and mildly irritated at the same time. "The standard protocol for those not engaged in the drill is to remain in their current location."
"Yeah, well, we're getting involved. Come on, boost me up."
True to his nature, Spock didn't move and Jim blew out an exasperated breath. As far as he was concerned, the translation of 'logical' from Vulcan to Standard was really 'pain in the ass'.
"I could make it an order," Jim grumbled.
Unfortunately, Spock seemed to respect his authority only slightly less than Bones did. "I suspect that you are unlikely to report me for insubordination in this matter. Captain."
All right, fine then. Time to pull out the big guns.
"You're right," Jim conceded with a nod, leaning against the wall of the lift and crossing his arms over his chest. "We should stay here. It'll give us time to talk more."
Spock turned towards him abruptly and Jim could only stare at his expression, more than a little impressed with the results. Holy shit, an eyebrow twitch AND a nostril flare over that? What the hell was sitting in the back of his head, anyway?
"That will be unnecessary," Spock told him and if he sounded strained, Jim decided that he could be gracious enough to let it go. For now. "Let me assist you."
"Thank you, Commander," Jim said sweetly. Okay, so he wasn't that gracious.
It was just a shame that Spock seemed to think that 'assisting' meant grabbing him and shoving him up in the direction of the ceiling. Maybe he needed a refresher course in Standard because Jim barely had time to yelp and brace his hands against the ceiling before he smacked his head on the tiles.
"Careful!" Jim snapped, "I'm just getting over the last round of bruises you gave me!" The ones on his hips were still fading, come to think of it, but then, that had been a different Spock.
"My apologies, Captain." Which of course didn't sound like an apology at all. Damned Vulcans. And of course the latch seemed to be stuck because that was how this day was going, now wasn't it. He was suspended in the air by an irritated Vulcan who seemed determined to smash his face into the ceiling under the pretense of shifting his weight and since his uniform pants were made of that slippery flame-retardant material that Starfleet insisted on using, (still a red cadet's uniform, too, damned laundry facilities) Spock had to shift his grip to keep from dropping him and...oh.
Um. Yeah.
Jim wondered if it would be too suspicious if he asked Spock to move his hand just a tiny bit to the left.
No, better not to. Instead, he made a feeble attempt at opening the hatch again and tried to ignore the fact that Spock's hand, his very warm, very strong hand, had a very firm grip on his upper, upper thigh. Yeah, just ignore it, Jim, he probably doesn't even know what he's-
James Kirk found out the precise moment when Spock realized the location of his hand because that was the exact same moment that Spock chose to drop him. This time he did manage to gurgle out a yelp before he hit the floor, wincing as he sat up and automatically began cataloguing his brand new, barely used collection of bruises.
"Captain! I am sorry, I-"
Jim cut him off with a wave of his hand, groaning as he rubbed his tailbone gingerly. "Forget it, the hatch wasn't opening anyway." Damn, he wasn't going to be able to sit for a week, and not for a good reason either. Damned Vulcans was going to become the catchphrase of the day, Jim was sure. "And would you call me Jim? If you aren't going to obey orders you might as well give up on the titles for the moment."
Spock was crouched next to him, hands fluttering for the briefest second like he was contemplating helping Jim to his feet. Instead, they settled on his own thighs, gripping slightly. "Very well...Jim."
A huge concession, Jim decided, a little giddily. Well worth a sore ass. Now if only he could-but never mind that right now. "Okay, the hatch is out. Let's try something new."
He took a moment to study the panel that hid the lift wiring, considering. Tucked into the lining of his boot was a tiny pouch and Jim pulled it out, selecting a slender tool and going to work on the locking mechanism. He barely glanced at Spock when he leaned in, eyes alight with curiosity.
"I assume you are going to attempt to rewire the lift controls?"
"Yeah," Jim grunted, blinking sweat out of his eyes. The environmental controls seemed to be shut down along with everything else and this part was delicate, the finest tremor in his lockpick warning him that he was close to either getting it open or breaking the pick. "If I can unlock it."
"Would it be counterproductive if I inquire as to how you are familiar with this technique, as well as possessing the tools?"
"You didn't think I spent the last three years reading textbooks, did you?" Jim spared a second to flash him a grin. Almost, almost...
Spock arched a brow at him. "Indeed? I would have thought it had more to do with your criminal record prior to entering the Academy."
The sweet satisfaction that came when the tiny panel swung open was all but obscured as Jim swung around to glare at a certain smug Vulcan, "And how the fuck do you know about that? Those records are sealed."
At least the smugness dropped off his face but that left Spock expressionless as he stated, "I have a higher security access than-"
"Bullshit! The only way you can know about that is if you hacked the personnel files," Jim glared a minute longer, the tension between them thick and unpleasant before he finally broke it, throwing back his head and laughing. "And you called me a cheater! You broke into my file and read about me before my trial, didn't you? Admit it!"
Spock's eyes clearly told him that he'd have better luck trying to seduce Admiral Pike than that occurring. "The simulation has been underway for approximately fifteen point three-five minutes. If it is your intention to join it, you may wish to hurry."
"You just have to be right every time, don't you," Jim muttered. Not bothering to wait for an answer, he reached into the panel and gently pulled the interface card out enough to look at it. "Okay, unless they’ve changed it, it should just be a matter of switching these two wires-"
Immediately an alarm sounded and the lights went out, plunging them into darkness before the red emergency lights came on and left them bathed in eerie crimson.
"Warning!" Generic Female Voice #3 told them soothingly, "You are attempting to engage in an illegal behavior as outlined in the battle drill protocol manual. Please desist at this time or you will be disqualified."
"Damn!" Jim swore disgustedly, "I should have known they'd fix that after the last drill." He sank back on his heels, chewing his lip as he considered, "Maybe if I-"
"Captain," Spock interrupted tersely. "Aside from possible disqualification, I would like to remind you that the lift brakes are likely connected to that same panel and that by my calculations, we are not on the ground floor."
"I know what I'm doing!" Jim snapped. Damned Vulcans, damned lifts and drills, just...damn everything because today was just the worst, okay? Rotten to the core and then some. "Why don’t you just enjoy the view of me on my knees and let me do this?"
"I-" Whatever he had been about to say, Spock bit it off and turned away stiffly, a clear sign that Jim should leave well enough alone and get to work on getting the door open. Only Jim had never been very good at leaving things alone and sometimes that was a useful trait, one that led to him bursting onto ship's bridges and saving everyone's butts but sometimes-
"You did seem to enjoy the view with a few years on you," Jim added, letting the goad in his words shine in his eyes as he watched Spock, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. "You enjoyed the feel, too. But you must already know that, what with peeking in on my thoughts this morning."
"I am unfamiliar as to your sexual activities with my alternate self," Spock said, and if Jim had thought his voice was tight earlier, then this time his voice was wound to the breaking point.
"Really? How do you not know, you were poking around in my brain."
"I was looking for specific information," Spock told him and that was a legitimate snap, the barest edge of anger coming through. "I did not access every memory you have or, indeed, your more recent ones involving my counterpart."
Huh, that was interesting. At least now he knew what Spock hadn't seen when he was roaming through his deepest, most intimate thoughts searching for tidbits like it was an open buffet. Only now Spock was breathing a little too fast, echoing softly in the confines of the lift. Maybe time to back off a little then. It wasn't like he had the pater familias hanging around in the background this time to save him if Spock decided his bones needed a little rearranging.
"Too bad you missed the show," Jim said, lightly, as he leaned back over the panel. Now he really wanted out of this lift and it had nothing to do with wanting to break a record.
And yes, he felt the touch of coolness that meant his shirt had ridden up when he leaned over, knew exactly what it looked like because he'd seen the same thing on a hundred other cadets. Whoever designed their uniforms hadn't taken into consideration all of the dirty work that cadets had to get into because the shirts were just this side of too short and he could imagine easily what Spock was seeing. A tiny strip of pale bare skin at the small of his back, probably barely visible in the emergency lights, but even knowing it didn't mean he was really considering it, his focus completely on the wiring.
Until he felt the lightest of touches right there, fingertips just grazing his bare skin and Jim went completely still, swallowing a little at the surprisingly intimate touch. Okay, yeah, he'd wanted sex earlier with Spock, hell, he wanted it now, but this was falling just on the off side of bizarre and Spock was breathing hard, shockingly loud in the small, too-hot room as he abruptly pushed Jim's shirt further up, spreading his hand out on the newly exposed skin.
"Um," Jim tried, an embarrassingly small squeak of sound because shit, he really was on his knees and Spock was behind him, both hands on him now, sweeping almost feverishly over his naked back and shoving his shirt up until it was almost over Jim's head.
Wait, this is a bad idea, this is sort of in public, what about the drill...a million flittering, unspoken things that probably wouldn't have mattered anyway as Spock grabbed him by the hips and hauled him backwards, hot hands sliding around him to fumble at the fastenings at his pants before, oh, fuck, he just mangled the button off and tossed it aside, yanking Jim's pants down around his thighs so that he was completely snarled in his uniform, still hampered by his shirt around his shoulders.
"Hey, I-" Jim started as he pushed up on his elbows because he had to put up at least a token protest. Only a hard hand at the back of his neck shoving him back to the floor pretty much put an end to that and all right, then, he could take a hint. Hold still and take it like a man. And maybe he should be getting used to Spocks fucking him in unexpected ways. At least here was a lot warmer than the ice caves of Delta Vega.
Spock's weight was surprisingly heavy against his back as he all but sprawled over Jim, a hard knee pushing between his legs to force them apart as far as his bunched pants would allow. All Jim could do was grunt, bracing his arms against the floor as Spock's hands moved over him almost uncertainly, stroking down his bare chest and faltering over his stomach, sifting lightly through the soft line of hair there.
Maybe he should have guessed that Spock almost certainly hadn't done this before. The other him was so old that he'd probably done everything there was to do in the whole damned galaxy, maybe everybody there was, too, but this Spock was still fresh and sharp from his box of crayons, and his uncertainly was palpable, he was... oh fuck, biting the back of Jim's neck, breath blowing hard across the nape as he licked and sucked bruises into his abused skin until Jim thought he might lose his mind.
"Yeah," Jim panted, burying his face into the crook of his arm, even as he tipped his head to the side to let Spock nip sharply at a fresh place. "Yeah, come on, that's good, that-"
Another hard shove between his shoulder blades rocked him. "Be silent."
No talking, got it. He might have argued about it, might have reminded Spock of exactly who was supposed to be the one who gave orders around here if Spock hadn't chosen to push up on his knees, his hands withdrawing from Jim to fumble between them at the fastenings of his own trousers.
He felt as much as heard Spock's sigh of relief, felt the hot touch of his cock against the cleft of his ass. It would hurt like this, dry and unprepared but fuck if Jim wasn't already pushing back against it, biting his lip in anticipation. Come on, he chanted in his head, come on, you cheating pointy-eared bastard, do it, do it, could barely remember the last time he'd wanted this so fucking much. Not even knee-deep in ice and snow but that memory was shaky, undependable, half-lost in some blank place in his mind that two Vulcans wouldn't allow him to see.
The fabric of Spock's uniform pants chafed the insides of his thighs, rough weave against his bare ass as Spock pushed against him, rubbed his cock in the cleft but not inside, leaking moisture against him. It wasn't what Jim had wanted, not quite, not enough, but any protest died on his own gasp as Spock's too-hot fingers slipped between his legs again. It didn't matter if his grip was clumsy, and almost brutally tight, slick with Jim's own leaking fluids. Didn't matter that Spock was gasping like he was going to die, thrusting against him but not in him, dammit, but the light behind his eyes was already going golden and warm, the intensity of it ratcheting higher and higher until Jim was biting his own arm, stifling a shout as he came.
Hot, oh, fuck, so hot spurts against his bare ass and the small of his back, and Spock's groan was hissed out from between clenched teeth, one hand smoothing shakily down Jim's side like he was soothing or maybe he just wanted to feel him, just a little more.
Jim pressed his sweaty face against the coolness of the floor and tried to locate enough brain cells to move. He had maybe a handful gathered together when Spock jerked away from him, quick rustling sounds indicating that he was straightening his own clothing briskly.
As if to prove that the universe had it out for him, the lights flickered back on and Generic Female Voice #3 came back over the speaker, "The battle drill is now at an end. We would like to thank the participants for their contribution and our visitors for their patience. A list of our winners will be issued in one standard hour. Thank you for your time."
Immediately the lift lurched back to life, taking them down to the ground floor where a large collection of students and visitors were probably waiting. Obviously, the universe didn't want him dead or that would have gone off last week. Base humiliation, on the other hand, was going to be made available in wide variety.
Half-staggering to his feet, Jim yanked his sagging pants up, arranging them the best he could around his hips. There wasn't a damned thing he could do about the ruined button or the wrinkles or...Jim glanced over his shoulder and sighed mentally. Or the stains, right.
Spock, on the other hand, looked impeccable, without even smudges of dust on his knees. He looked Jim up and down, quirking one eyebrow upward and at that particular moment, Jim could have cheerfully murdered him. Just a tiny little murder and surely there wasn't a Human on the planet who wouldn't understand.
They had probably a minute before the doors opened, less than a minute, and Jim decided that all tact and decency had been lost long before this, probably when Spock had walked into his quarters this morning and gotten a good view of him in his skivvies. Might as well go for broke and try one more time.
"Okay, I'm not exactly complaining here but do you mind telling me why neither one of you will explain what in my brain is making Vulcans treat me like I have a fuck-me button on my cerebral cortex?"Jim asked, a little tiredly. "Only, I'd like to know because I hear that more Vulcans have signed up for the Academy and if I'm going to get rolled on my knees every time I brush brains with one, I'd like to know why."
"You have nothing to worry yourself over where other Vulcans are concerned," Spock informed him tightly. He'd drawn into himself so forcefully that Jim couldn't see the barest shine of his thoughts in his eyes
"So it's just you then, is that it?" Silence. "I've got your teeth marks on me and your come drying on my ass, and you won't tell me why," Jim said, deliberately crude, trying to bring at least the anger back, something, something because he could be free with his body, that was fine, but he was getting a little tired of these two fucking with his mind.
Spock's lips barely tightened, his eyes focused forward, and suddenly Jim was just tired. Tired of playing a game where no one was bothering to tell him the rules.
"You know something? I don't think you like me very much," Jim said, softly. Dark eyes flickered towards him, an involuntary little twitch. "I think he told you what he told me. We're supposed to be great friends who do great deeds but you know what? I don't really care. That was then and this is now. Whatever you saw in my head doesn't matter a damned bit. If you want to sleep with me, fine. If you don't, that's fine, too. But you need to make up your mind, Commander."
And maybe karma decided he could use just a little break today because it chose to let the doors open exactly at that moment to a perfectly empty hallway so that he could make a really good dramatic exit.
"Captain-" From behind him, hesitantly, as he strode through the door but to hell with that. If karma saw fit to let him make a clean getaway, then there was no way Jim wasn't going along with it. He walked down the corridor just this side of hastily, half-grateful that there wasn't anyone to see him in his rumpled uniform. Not that he cared that much and not like no one had seen him like this before but he was betting that not too many people walked out of a lift looking like this with Spock right behind them.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder just long enough to see that Spock had chosen not to chase him through the hallways. Jim shrugged a little, whistling faintly as he made his way to the other set of lifts down the hall so that he could change into something a little less abused. His hair was probably standing up in sweaty clumps, there was a ring of bruises aching at the back of his neck and everything from the waist down felt uncomfortably sweaty and damp.
Oh, yeah, and Spock had made him come all over the floor of a lift so hard his hair had practically curled.
Really, for being the worst day ever, it wasn't going so bad, now was it.
Although he might just owe Bones an apology, maybe even all of Vulcan society, for not getting a physical first. But no use crying over possible-but-not-probable infection and corruption; right now he needed a long, hot shower before karma decided he could use a kick right in his bruised ass.
Stepping into the lift, Jim pushed the button for his floor and keyed in his emergency security code so that it wouldn't stop to let anyone else on. To hell with respect, it was good to be a captain if it could help him quickly get into a clean pair of pants.
"Captain James T. Kirk," said Generic Female Voice #3 over the intercom. "You have a message from Admiral Pike."
"Go ahead," Jim said, warily, and it obliged.
"Thank you for not participating in the most recent battle drill. It is my sincerest hope that you were not too inconvenienced by remaining in the lift for the allotted time--"
"Son of a bitch," Jim muttered as the pleasant voice went on relentlessly.
"We hope that for the remainder of your leave as the Enterprise is refitted, you are able to comport yourself without intervention. Your understanding is appreciated. And son," the computer's generated voice changed abruptly into Pike's real one, soothing falseness switching to true amusement. "Get some sleep."
"Yes, sir," Jim replied with a sigh, slouching against the lift wall. Vulcans and Admirals and drills, oh, my. Worst. Day. Ever.
Fuck it. He was going back to bed to sleep the sleep of the karmically challenged. Tomorrow he'd see what he could make of this mess but for right now? He was going to exert whatever new authority he had to hide in his quarters for a little while. That was his version of logical, damn it, and any Vulcan of his acquaintance who didn’t like it could cram it.
Tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow was soon enough. Jim didn't believe in no-win scenarios but he knew, damn, how he knew, when to call for a strategic retreat.
TBC