Ficmas Cards (7)
I am so incredibly sorry this is so late you guys. And I still have more people to apologize to after that, I'm almost there, I swear. I'm so, so sorry! D:
For: zauzat
Prompt: Trek TOS or AOS, Spock/Mccoy. Mindmeld.
Rating: PG-13
Leonard wakes up at the sound of a door swishing open. He lies quietly, keeping his breathing deep and low, and watches through his eyelashes as Spock moves soundlessly around the room. The deal was that Spock would wake him whenever he got back, but Leonard has a strong suspicion that Spock isn’t going to do that.
Careful to maintain his sleeping respiration rate - doctors, apparently, make excellent fakers - Leonard watches as Spock stops beside his desk, looking down at the fruit plate Leonard has left for him. For a Vulcan, Spock is recklessly careless with his diet sometimes - skipping meals, never compensating for anything. They used to argue about it ferociously; during one such fight, Leonard said that if Spock couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself, someone should do it for him, and an additional nanny wasn’t on the Med Bay budget. Spock lifted his goddamn eyebrow and said that, in such a case, Leonard should assume the responsibility himself, if the thought of Spock starving interfered with his REM cycle.
Leonard doesn’t quite remember how it progressed from that to waking up in Spock’s bed, but it’s been four months now, and he’s not complaining.
They developed that little ritual back then, too. When Leonard had to work late, he would just go straight to bed, too tired to even bother with a shower, let alone food. Eating before bed wasn’t healthy for humans, anyway.
But when Spock worked late, Leonard would leave him some sort of nutritionally balanced snack. Spock would wake him up and they’d talk about whatever was on their minds while Spock ate and Leonard stretched and sprawled on the bed, enjoying a rare moment of bliss.
That hasn’t happened in a while, though, and Leonard is worried. Spock has been looking progressively grimmer lately, and it leaves a cold, heavy feeling in Leonard’s gut that has nothing to do with anything medical.
Just as he has suspected, Spock pauses for a long, drawn-out moment, and then quietly deposits the plate back onto the replicator pad to dispose of later. He won’t do so now for fear of the sound waking Leonard.
Leonard has never been good at keeping his emotions in check, but he tries his best to suppress a scowl now. It’s not the time yet. He’ll wait till Spock can’t easily run from him. He knows his partner. It will only take a few minutes.
He’s right, of course. Spock disappears into the bathroom, and emerges a few minutes later dressed for bed. He dims the lights even more before sliding cautiously under the coverlet, taking great care not to wake his supposedly sleeping bedmate. Leonard allows him to settle before finally giving in to his impatience. Without warning, he rolls on top of Spock, sprawling over him and effectively trapping him in place.
Spock stiffens, drawing in a sharp breath. “You are awake.”
Leonard nuzzles at his collarbone. “No thanks to you.” He presses a gentle kiss to the pulse point, reveling in the way Spock shivers, before lifting himself up on his elbows and looking down into Spock’s eyes. “You wanna-?”
In the near darkness of the room, he still sees Spock’s lashes flutter as he averts his eyes, his arms sliding, warm and sure, around Leonard’s waist.
“I thought, perhaps, in the morning,” Spock says, running his palms up and down Leonard’s back and sounding more subdued than Leonard has ever heard him.
“Right,” Leonard grunts. He sits up then, straddling Spock’s thighs and orders, “Computer, lights fifty percent.”
Spock turns rigid under him, but Leonard couldn’t care less. “Let’s have it,” he says, using his no-nonsense I’m-the-CMO-and-you’re-an-imbecile tone. “You’re not eating, you’re hardly sleeping, you don’t want to have sex, and-”
“I do wish to have sex,” Spock interrupts hurriedly, and tries to move.
“Uh-uh. Can it.” Leonard checks the motion easily. “You do, but you don’t; shut up, it’s not illogical. Which brings us to the point I was about to make when I was so rudely interrupted - you’re not meditating.”
Spock goes very still and says nothing.
“Gotcha.” Leonard nods with satisfaction. “I’m not an idiot, Spock, and I care about you. You can talk to me. What gives?”
“I do not-” Spock starts, then changes his mind. “Nothing is wrong, Leonard.”
“Spock.” Leonard sighs. “You’re the crappiest liar I’ve ever met.” He reaches for Spock’s hand resting limply on his knee and runs a soothing Vulcan kiss over it - Leonard has had time to study the nuances. Spock seems to relax a little against his will, and Leonard smiles softly at him. “I know what you need,” he says gently. Spock’s eyes snap wide open in alarm, and Leonard nods. “When you’re this close to someone for this long, you need to meld, don’t you?”
He can see the struggle in Spock’s eyes as he considers another lie, then an evasion, then a way to stall the discussion, before finally giving up.
“Yes,” Spock admits quietly.
“Now, see, that didn’t hurt at all, did it?” Leonard drawls, taking Spock’s hand in both his own and massaging the fingers gently. “Now, darlin’, just tell me - why aren’t we melding?”
Spock looks up at him, hesitant and wary. “I did not wish to ask you…”
“Because I have a habit of not taking care of you?”
Spock blinks guiltily, but when he meets Leonard’s eyes again, he’s certain, and serious. “You have been showing persistent and continuous distrust toward telepathy for as long as you and I have been acquainted.”
Leonard stares. “That’s it? Are you outta your-”
Effortlessly, Spock dislodges him and sits up, resting his back against the headboard. “‘I would rather die than let any of those creepy freaks with boundary issues poke around my head,’” Spock quotes. “Your words, Leonard. Not mine.”
Leonard rolls his eyes. “Spock, wake up. Yeah, I don’t trust telepaths. I’ve never made a secret of that, and I’m not known for considerate phrasing. Dammit, man, you know that!”
“You can understand how I might have been reluctant-”
“Dammit, Spock!” Leonard grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “I trust you. Don’t you think I thought of all that when we started, you know... this? I trust you.” He bites his lip, tries to take a breath, fails, and just goes for it. “I love you.”
Spock watches him, eyes wary still, but also hopeful and inquisitive; searching.
“Please,” Leonard whispers, drawing closer. “Trust me, too.”
He kisses Spock softly on the lips, and it’s probably the gentlest kiss they’ve ever shared. Leonard’s hand rests unerringly above Spock’s heart, a silent plea reiterated, and he can feel the tension in Spock’s body ebb gradually as he leans up into the touch. They separate, finding each other’s eyes immediately.
“Are you certain?” Spock breathes out quietly.
Leonard presses another short kiss to his mouth and nods. “Yes, darlin’. Do it.”
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, and Spock must know him too well, because he smiles ever-so-fleetingly at Leonard, fingers grazing his temple in reassurance and a caress.
“There is nothing to fear,” Spock whispers, and then the world fades.
Years later, Leonard will try to recapture this moment, to try and recall what it felt like to be with someone, to really be with someone for the very first time, but the memory will be hazy. He will be so used to the constant warming tingling of belonging under his skull that he won’t be able to remember what it used to be like on his own. He’ll smile then and call himself a very lucky man.
But right now, his mind is a virgin, overwhelmed by the onslaught of images, memories, and thoughts, sensations and emotions. He’s disoriented and weightless, tugged into a million different directions by the waves of a magnificent, transcendent ocean carrying him gently as if he were a child. He’s drowning, but he can’t drown. He’s groundless, but he can feel his anchor, his connection to Spock, wrapping around him like a security blanket, tight and infinitely tender, with love pouring out of every cell.
‘I love you,’ Leonard thinks, or says - he doesn’t know. But he does know that, somewhere out there, he’s crying. ‘I love you,’ he repeats, and the world around him explodes with gold and crimson, threatening to crush him with the powerful, undeniable emotion he dared to unleash. He’s grateful he isn’t really looking at it, or he’d have gone blind for the sizzling brightness.
He wakes up hours later, cradled in Spock’s arms with his nose pressed into Spock’s neck. Years later, Leonard might unwillingly confess that this was, perhaps, the most romantic moment of his life. But right now, he just nuzzles the warm skin under his cheek and slides his leg between Spock’s, fitting closer. Spock’s lips press to his temple once, a silent question.
Leonard smiles. “Loud and clear,” he murmurs, sleepy and happy.
Spock kisses his hair in response, and doesn’t ask anything else.
For: kamiyo
Prompt: Jim/Spock with past Pike/Spock
Christmas
Somehow Kirk really hurt Spock and now he tries to make amends to him, while the Vulcan is staying with his ex-lover/friend's house for Christmas. Total love for VERY guilty Jim and VERY pissed off and protective Pike.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I feel that Jim is OOC here, but that was the best I could do for him to fit the parameters of the prompt. Since this sounds like a particularly lame excuse, I'm gonna go with 'we all make mistakes sometimes.'
Chris opens the door and stares at Kirk blankly. A credit to his intelligence, Kirk doesn’t try to say anything, though his expression is telling enough. Chris frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, and doesn’t budge an inch.
“Give me one good reason for not punching your lights out. Don’t think I won’t.”
Kirk sighs, bowing his head. “Go ahead. Just tell me he’s okay first.”
“Yeah,” Chris says. “Like that’s gonna happen.”
Kirk stares at him, and there’s nothing of the arrogant asshole of two nights ago in his tired, bloodshot eyes, bleak with guilt.
“I screwed up,” he says quietly. “I know.”
“Good for you,” Chris snaps and reaches for the lock. “Goodbye.”
“Wait!” Kirk slams his hand against the sensor. “Just tell me he’s okay, and I’ll leave, I swear. Please.” He catches Chris’s gaze desperately. “Please.”
Chris stands still for a moment, wishing he were less reasonable, less... seasoned. Wisdom really is overrated when you can’t gain anything from it yourself.
“He’s not falling to pieces over your little… escapade,” he tells Kirk grudgingly. “Doesn’t mean-”
“I know.” Kirk cuts him off, like he can’t stand to relive it. “I know. But nothing happened. Nothing, really. I only...”
There are advantages to being young, Chris thinks. Young, good-looking, successful, famous. Chris knows, because Chris had all those things and then some in his time. Those who think Kirk is pretty should have seen Chris at twenty-five. And yes, he’d gotten his first ship way later, because, prodigy or no, order meant something back in those days, but Chris knows what it feels like to come home after a mission that only a Hercules could have pulled off and surrender to the welcoming arms of the adoring public. Chris knows what it’s like to walk into a bar and be pumped with the best alcohol across twelve star systems without paying for any of it. He knows how it feels to have the hottest things on the planet wrap their arms around him, kissing him senseless and whispering promises of allowing anything into his ear.
It’s intoxicating, Chris knows, especially when one isn’t spoiled with praise, when one is unused to receiving anyone’s approval. It’s head-spinning and wonderful, it feels amazing on par with being stoned on some really good stuff, and it’s almost impossible to fight, particularly when there’s no reason not to.
Except, unlike Chris, Kirk had a reason, didn’t he? That reason was there two nights ago, standing helpless and furious at the back of the room, watching as his partner didn’t put up even some token resistance to welcoming arms and eager lips. Spock didn’t want to be there, but Kirk talked him into going, only to forget about him the second they entered and people began to stare at Kirk as if sun shined out of his ass.
And Chris can relate to Kirk; he really can. Having been kicked and tossed all his life, how is one supposed to fight off the temptation of feeling what fame really tastes like when one knows it’s deserved? Kirk had paid for it with spilled blood and broken bones and a mind that worked at warp speed and refused to give up. He earned it, and it was there. He, who’d never been patted on the back for a job well done in his life - how was he to resist?
If that were all there was, Chris would have dismissed it with a patronizing smile, and that’d be the end of it. Even Spock could understand that.
Too bad that wasn’t all.
That wasn’t all, because when Spock finally grew tired of watching, five or six unbearable hours into it, and came over to take Kirk home, his partner laughed in his face. Kirk was beyond drunk, but people like Chris, people like Kirk, never really got that drunk anymore.
That was the moment when Chris wished he hadn’t stayed for that party and regretted not having drunk nearly enough himself. He would pay any price not to have seen Spock’s frowning, openly hurt face, when Kirk told him, laughing, ‘You’re not my mother, stop nagging me. Can’t you see I’m having fun?’ And Spock could see that, yes; everyone who was in the bar could see that, Chris included. The youngest captain in Starfleet was squeezed between four people who made their desires clear, and he was having tremendous fun basking in it. ‘Go away, Spock,’ Kirk told him, not really keeping track of his actions. ‘I’ll call you when I feel like being bored.’ The fact that everyone joined in on his laughter didn’t lessen Chris’s pain at the memory.
He followed Spock out that night, and Spock didn’t want to look at him at first, humiliation of every kind coloring his face like a rogue rainbow. Chris knew that he was probably the last person Spock wanted to see there just then, but it didn’t make him leave. Spock didn’t have a place to stay; he’d never planned on being anywhere but in the suite he and Jim had booked. Chris took Spock by the wrist and had them beamed to his house. Spock tensed, but didn’t say a word. Chris slipped a sedative into Spock’s tea, his conscience giving him no pangs.
Spock was his usual composed self come morning, mildly teasing Chris about his kidnapping methods and helping him make the house ready for the Christmas party. Chris didn’t have to ask him to stay as Spock made no attempt of leaving, and it was an incredible solace that they still felt so comfortable around each other that things like that didn’t need to be said. Spock knew this house as well as Chris did, and the quiet confidence of his movements brought back memories of other holiday breaks when Spock didn’t stay in the guest bedroom.
They didn’t talk about what had happened, and Chris noticed that, while Spock didn’t pull away from his touch, he didn’t let it linger, either. Chris couldn’t blame him. He had never been good at masking his emotions, and Spock was too adept in reading him - the years they spent together made that certain. Spock barely took part in conversation at the dinner table, despite sharing interest for a number of subjects with most of Chris’s guests, and went upstairs early. Chris wasn’t surprised, but he wasn’t happy, either.
“Can I see him?” Kirk asks quietly. “I know what you think, but - he’d want to see me.”
Chris purses his lips. “You know what I think, Kirk? I think that you’re a moron and an ass and-”
“And I don’t deserve him,” Kirk finishes.
For a moment, Chris stares at him blankly. “You know,” he says at last, “Spock isn’t perfect. There are a lot of things about him that are irritating, disturbing, and, bless his soul, illogical.” He pauses. “But I’d take him back in an instant. I’d take him back so fast you’d have to get a motion sickness treatment.”
Kirk stiffens, his whole silhouette going rigid, but he doesn’t say anything. Chris kind of wishes he did.
“I don’t care if you think you’re the next best thing since sliced bread. I don’t care if you are. I like you, Kirk; I really do. And I see where you’re coming from, sure. But I didn’t give him up for this, and I can’t forgive it. Spock” - Chris tilts his head back toward the house - “will forgive you, because the idiot is head over heels in love with you. He’ll forgive you anything. But I’m not, and I won’t. I can excuse this kind of shit only once, Kirk, you got me?”
Kirk holds his eyes, silent and somber.
“I was the one who dragged your ass out of that ditch back in Iowa,” Chris reminds him tersely. “If you ever - ever - do anything like that again, I’ll shove you back there before you know what’s happened. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Kirk snaps, but there’s more than wounded pride in his gaze. Something else is lurking there, something surprisingly like humility... and acceptance. “I would expect no less.”
Chris watches him coolly for the longest moment, before finally stepping aside from the doorway. “Winter garden,” he says, because there’s nothing more to say.
Kirk brushes past him, and Chris presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Not for the first time, he questions the wisdom of the decision he once made. Not for the first time, he finds it lacking. But he has never been so arrogant as to believe that he could control other people’s actions outside the small, tightly wound-up world of a starship. It’s not his fault, and it’s no longer his decision.
He walks into the library, carefully shuts the door, and turns on the music. Beethoven had said it all long ago, anyway. Chris closes his eyes and tries not to listen.
For: verizonhorizon
Prompt: Kirk/Spock (reboot or tos) Undercover mission!
Rating: PG-13
Spock does not like to improvise. He likes plans - definite, thoroughly calculated plans, detailed enough to foresee every possible circumstance. His mind is capable of combining variables at breathtaking speed, allowing him to switch gears fast enough to make some people believe he’s acting on instinct.
James Kirk is all about improvisation, and sometimes Spock really hates that about the man. He is long past denying the emotionalism of his reaction. That would be simply illogical. Kirk has a highly pronounced habit of listening to Spock’s plans, approving them, authorizing actions based on them, and then using the first convenient opportunity to derail them completely. It has happened so many times that Spock has given up pretending that the actions were anything but infuriating a long time ago.
That doesn’t mean he enjoys it any better.
His search has proved completely fruitless; it has been two hours, and this liner is an exceptionally large ship. Suppressing a resigned sigh, Spock stops a passing steward. “Excuse me. Have you seen my valet, by any chance?”
It’s an indication of how well the role of an extremely wealthy, illegitimate son of a Romulan senator fits Spock that the man pulls himself into a ringing string of eagerness the moment Spock’s eyes land on him.
“A young human, yellow hair, pale eyes, very attractive, wears a blue sash, kiriy?”
Spock mentally sighs. “Please tell me that was not all he was wearing when you saw him?”
The steward’s face contorts in an oily smile. “No, kiriy. He was decent.”
“That would be a first,” Spock mutters, only half in character. He reaches into his pocket and produces a credit chip, showing it to the steward.
The man’s eyes glint, and he licks his lips. “Second technical deck, kiriy. He was probably snooping around the kitchens.”
The schematics of the ship unfold in Spock’s mind in a flash, and he knows that, at this point, coming up with logical arguments against strangling his captain would be incredibly hard.
“Your assistance is appreciated,” he says, and lets go of the chip, moving on as the steward dives forward to catch it.
“Most generous, kiriy! If I may be so bold...”
Spock looks back with what he’s certain is very poorly concealed impatience. “Yes?”
The steward looks up from where he’s bent in a respectful bow, clearly ingratiating. “A man of your station should not trouble himself with undisciplined servants, kiriy. Here on this ship, we have... facilities. We could - make him see sense for you.”
Spock is having a hard time suppressing a smirk. “Tempting as the offer is - and I assure you, it is - I must decline. I will deal with him myself.”
The steward nods a little too deeply. “Yes, kiriy. Apologies for my presumption.”
Spock nods curtly and proceeds on his way, reflecting sourly that Kirk should thank his lucky stars, as humans would put it, that Spock is devoid of a sadistic streak. Some people just ask for it.
It’s harder for Spock than he imagines it has been for Kirk to sneak down into the off-limits zone, but he manages. ‘Snooping around the kitchens’ gave Spock a good idea of what Kirk is really after. His deduction proves correct when he discovers Kirk hunched in a hollow between two bulkheads, trying to pick the code of a weapons locker.
Spock stares for a moment, surprised, for the major part, at his own lack of surprise, before reaching out and deactivating the alarm sensor.
Kirk glances up momentarily and nods. “Nice catch. I haven’t seen that one.”
Spock suppresses a sigh. “What defect in your brain makes it imperative for you to make our existence and the fulfillment of our mission as difficult as possible?”
Kirk smirks without looking up. “I’m really getting to you, aren’t I?” He punches in another series of commands, frowning as the display blinks stubbornly in green. “Maybe I just like messing with your head, Spock.”
“Try altering the transitory derivative,” Spock suggests mildly. “And ‘maybe,’ Captain?”
Kirk snorts. “You know me too well.”
Spock stiffens suddenly. “Someone is approaching.”
“I’m almost there.”
“There is no time.”
“I said I’m almost-oogh!”
Spock yanks Kirk to his feet and slams him into the wall, twisting his arm behind his back none too gently and making sure Kirk’s body is blocking the locker door from view.
“Most disgraceful behavior,” Spock says loudly, pressing Kirk to the wall harder. “Making me waste my time looking for you when I require your services-”
“I was only gone a moment,” Kirk replies, more petulance in his voice than plea. “Please, master, I only-”
Spock slides his free hand between Kirk’s shoulder blades and presses two specific spots hard and precise. Kirk wails, throwing his head back and writhing in Spock’s hold. Spock knows it’s not playacting; the pain is genuine. He regrets it, but they need to be convincing. He twists his head sharply to look at the intruder.
It’s a young kitchen maid, standing not five feet afar, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes. Spock pulls Kirk’s arm further back abruptly, making the captain cry out, without taking his gaze off the girl.
“Something I can help you with?” he hisses as menacingly as he can.
“N-no, kiriy!” she refutes frantically. “I’m - I’m sorry, kiriy! I haven’t seen anything!”
“I’m sure you haven’t,” Spock snaps. “Get out.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice, and Spock listens to the fading panic of her hurried footsteps dying out in the distance.
“Spock,” Kirk calls in a tense, high-pitched voice. “Do you mind?”
“Hold still,” Spock orders quietly, gently releasing Kirk’s arm and using both hands to undo the damage he inflicted on Kirk’s back.
Kirk breathes heavily, gradually relaxing. “You so owe me a back rub after this,” he mutters.
Spock massages the abused muscles soothingly before tapping Kirk’s shoulder once, indicating he’s done. “When we return to the Enterprise, I will be happy to,” he says, without realizing he is speaking out loud.
Kirk turns around slowly, an incredulous expression on his face. “Really?”
Spock stares at him, blood rushing to his cheeks. “I... if you wish.”
Kirk’s eyes widen slightly. He bites his lip, a strangely serious, calculating expression on his face. “Really,” he repeats evenly, taking a step forward, which brings them uncomfortably close in the cramped space. “You trust me that much.”
“Yes,” Spock replies cautiously, edging away instinctively, until his back hits the wall.
Kirk’s eyebrows arch eloquently, as he steps forward again. “What if I told you,” he says quietly, his tone tense in an unfamiliar way, “that you really, really shouldn’t?”
Spock swallows, his mouth turning uncomfortably dry. “Should we not concentrate on extricating weapons?” he asks, his voice oddly feeble to his own ears.
“All done,” Kirk replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Told you, I only needed another moment. Soon as we’re out of warp, we can break Daisah out and jump this boat. Mission accomplished.”
“In that case-”
“Uh-uh, not so fast. I need to know exactly how far you will trust me, Spock.” Kirk draws even closer, smiling still, which is extremely disturbing.
“Captain.” Spock sighs, aiming for nonchalance. “Are you certain that now is the time for-”
Kirk kisses him, and there is nothing tentative about it. The kiss is Kirk as Spock knows him - brash, overwhelming, determined, insolent, unapologetic, and completely irresistible. This is exactly the kind of spontaneity that Spock hates about him, hates with all his heart - except, apparently, when he loves it, because he doesn’t know what he’s giving back, but he’s definitely giving something. Kirk moans softly into his mouth and presses closer, eager for whatever it is Spock seems to be offering.
“Jim, stop,” Spock breathes out, gripping Kirk’s shoulders and pushing him away.
Kirk doesn’t resist. “Do you-”
“Yes,” Spock says, knowing he is going to regret it, but it’s too late for that anyway. “Yes, but not here. Not now.”
“So you-”
“Yes, Jim. For a while.”
Kirk’s face attains a mildly thunderous expression. “And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me, huh?”
Spock shoves him back impatiently, leaning down to release the hand disruptors from the holder. “You were insufferable enough as it was.”
Kirk grabs his shoulder and jerks him up, anger clear in the abruptness of his motions. “You think this is a game for me?”
“Everything is a game for you.”
“Not this. Spock, you idiot - I’ve been-”
Spock holds up a hand, silencing him.
“What?” Kirk scowls.
Spock listens intently for a few seconds, then looks at Kirk calmly. “We have just dropped out of warp.”
Kirk rolls his eyes, but nods and snatches one of the disruptors out of Spock’s hand. He tucks it securely under his sash, the folds concealing the weapon completely.
“Let’s go,” Kirk orders grimly. “But this? Isn’t over.”
“No,” Spock says, resigned and hiding his own weapon. “Evidently, it isn’t.”
He follows the captain out, trying to reconcile with the fact that his life is going to be nothing but spontaneous from now on.
For: zauzat
Prompt: Trek TOS or AOS, Spock/Mccoy. Mindmeld.
Rating: PG-13
Leonard wakes up at the sound of a door swishing open. He lies quietly, keeping his breathing deep and low, and watches through his eyelashes as Spock moves soundlessly around the room. The deal was that Spock would wake him whenever he got back, but Leonard has a strong suspicion that Spock isn’t going to do that.
Careful to maintain his sleeping respiration rate - doctors, apparently, make excellent fakers - Leonard watches as Spock stops beside his desk, looking down at the fruit plate Leonard has left for him. For a Vulcan, Spock is recklessly careless with his diet sometimes - skipping meals, never compensating for anything. They used to argue about it ferociously; during one such fight, Leonard said that if Spock couldn’t be trusted to take care of himself, someone should do it for him, and an additional nanny wasn’t on the Med Bay budget. Spock lifted his goddamn eyebrow and said that, in such a case, Leonard should assume the responsibility himself, if the thought of Spock starving interfered with his REM cycle.
Leonard doesn’t quite remember how it progressed from that to waking up in Spock’s bed, but it’s been four months now, and he’s not complaining.
They developed that little ritual back then, too. When Leonard had to work late, he would just go straight to bed, too tired to even bother with a shower, let alone food. Eating before bed wasn’t healthy for humans, anyway.
But when Spock worked late, Leonard would leave him some sort of nutritionally balanced snack. Spock would wake him up and they’d talk about whatever was on their minds while Spock ate and Leonard stretched and sprawled on the bed, enjoying a rare moment of bliss.
That hasn’t happened in a while, though, and Leonard is worried. Spock has been looking progressively grimmer lately, and it leaves a cold, heavy feeling in Leonard’s gut that has nothing to do with anything medical.
Just as he has suspected, Spock pauses for a long, drawn-out moment, and then quietly deposits the plate back onto the replicator pad to dispose of later. He won’t do so now for fear of the sound waking Leonard.
Leonard has never been good at keeping his emotions in check, but he tries his best to suppress a scowl now. It’s not the time yet. He’ll wait till Spock can’t easily run from him. He knows his partner. It will only take a few minutes.
He’s right, of course. Spock disappears into the bathroom, and emerges a few minutes later dressed for bed. He dims the lights even more before sliding cautiously under the coverlet, taking great care not to wake his supposedly sleeping bedmate. Leonard allows him to settle before finally giving in to his impatience. Without warning, he rolls on top of Spock, sprawling over him and effectively trapping him in place.
Spock stiffens, drawing in a sharp breath. “You are awake.”
Leonard nuzzles at his collarbone. “No thanks to you.” He presses a gentle kiss to the pulse point, reveling in the way Spock shivers, before lifting himself up on his elbows and looking down into Spock’s eyes. “You wanna-?”
In the near darkness of the room, he still sees Spock’s lashes flutter as he averts his eyes, his arms sliding, warm and sure, around Leonard’s waist.
“I thought, perhaps, in the morning,” Spock says, running his palms up and down Leonard’s back and sounding more subdued than Leonard has ever heard him.
“Right,” Leonard grunts. He sits up then, straddling Spock’s thighs and orders, “Computer, lights fifty percent.”
Spock turns rigid under him, but Leonard couldn’t care less. “Let’s have it,” he says, using his no-nonsense I’m-the-CMO-and-you’re-an-imbecile tone. “You’re not eating, you’re hardly sleeping, you don’t want to have sex, and-”
“I do wish to have sex,” Spock interrupts hurriedly, and tries to move.
“Uh-uh. Can it.” Leonard checks the motion easily. “You do, but you don’t; shut up, it’s not illogical. Which brings us to the point I was about to make when I was so rudely interrupted - you’re not meditating.”
Spock goes very still and says nothing.
“Gotcha.” Leonard nods with satisfaction. “I’m not an idiot, Spock, and I care about you. You can talk to me. What gives?”
“I do not-” Spock starts, then changes his mind. “Nothing is wrong, Leonard.”
“Spock.” Leonard sighs. “You’re the crappiest liar I’ve ever met.” He reaches for Spock’s hand resting limply on his knee and runs a soothing Vulcan kiss over it - Leonard has had time to study the nuances. Spock seems to relax a little against his will, and Leonard smiles softly at him. “I know what you need,” he says gently. Spock’s eyes snap wide open in alarm, and Leonard nods. “When you’re this close to someone for this long, you need to meld, don’t you?”
He can see the struggle in Spock’s eyes as he considers another lie, then an evasion, then a way to stall the discussion, before finally giving up.
“Yes,” Spock admits quietly.
“Now, see, that didn’t hurt at all, did it?” Leonard drawls, taking Spock’s hand in both his own and massaging the fingers gently. “Now, darlin’, just tell me - why aren’t we melding?”
Spock looks up at him, hesitant and wary. “I did not wish to ask you…”
“Because I have a habit of not taking care of you?”
Spock blinks guiltily, but when he meets Leonard’s eyes again, he’s certain, and serious. “You have been showing persistent and continuous distrust toward telepathy for as long as you and I have been acquainted.”
Leonard stares. “That’s it? Are you outta your-”
Effortlessly, Spock dislodges him and sits up, resting his back against the headboard. “‘I would rather die than let any of those creepy freaks with boundary issues poke around my head,’” Spock quotes. “Your words, Leonard. Not mine.”
Leonard rolls his eyes. “Spock, wake up. Yeah, I don’t trust telepaths. I’ve never made a secret of that, and I’m not known for considerate phrasing. Dammit, man, you know that!”
“You can understand how I might have been reluctant-”
“Dammit, Spock!” Leonard grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “I trust you. Don’t you think I thought of all that when we started, you know... this? I trust you.” He bites his lip, tries to take a breath, fails, and just goes for it. “I love you.”
Spock watches him, eyes wary still, but also hopeful and inquisitive; searching.
“Please,” Leonard whispers, drawing closer. “Trust me, too.”
He kisses Spock softly on the lips, and it’s probably the gentlest kiss they’ve ever shared. Leonard’s hand rests unerringly above Spock’s heart, a silent plea reiterated, and he can feel the tension in Spock’s body ebb gradually as he leans up into the touch. They separate, finding each other’s eyes immediately.
“Are you certain?” Spock breathes out quietly.
Leonard presses another short kiss to his mouth and nods. “Yes, darlin’. Do it.”
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, and Spock must know him too well, because he smiles ever-so-fleetingly at Leonard, fingers grazing his temple in reassurance and a caress.
“There is nothing to fear,” Spock whispers, and then the world fades.
Years later, Leonard will try to recapture this moment, to try and recall what it felt like to be with someone, to really be with someone for the very first time, but the memory will be hazy. He will be so used to the constant warming tingling of belonging under his skull that he won’t be able to remember what it used to be like on his own. He’ll smile then and call himself a very lucky man.
But right now, his mind is a virgin, overwhelmed by the onslaught of images, memories, and thoughts, sensations and emotions. He’s disoriented and weightless, tugged into a million different directions by the waves of a magnificent, transcendent ocean carrying him gently as if he were a child. He’s drowning, but he can’t drown. He’s groundless, but he can feel his anchor, his connection to Spock, wrapping around him like a security blanket, tight and infinitely tender, with love pouring out of every cell.
‘I love you,’ Leonard thinks, or says - he doesn’t know. But he does know that, somewhere out there, he’s crying. ‘I love you,’ he repeats, and the world around him explodes with gold and crimson, threatening to crush him with the powerful, undeniable emotion he dared to unleash. He’s grateful he isn’t really looking at it, or he’d have gone blind for the sizzling brightness.
He wakes up hours later, cradled in Spock’s arms with his nose pressed into Spock’s neck. Years later, Leonard might unwillingly confess that this was, perhaps, the most romantic moment of his life. But right now, he just nuzzles the warm skin under his cheek and slides his leg between Spock’s, fitting closer. Spock’s lips press to his temple once, a silent question.
Leonard smiles. “Loud and clear,” he murmurs, sleepy and happy.
Spock kisses his hair in response, and doesn’t ask anything else.
For: kamiyo
Prompt: Jim/Spock with past Pike/Spock
Christmas
Somehow Kirk really hurt Spock and now he tries to make amends to him, while the Vulcan is staying with his ex-lover/friend's house for Christmas. Total love for VERY guilty Jim and VERY pissed off and protective Pike.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I feel that Jim is OOC here, but that was the best I could do for him to fit the parameters of the prompt. Since this sounds like a particularly lame excuse, I'm gonna go with 'we all make mistakes sometimes.'
Chris opens the door and stares at Kirk blankly. A credit to his intelligence, Kirk doesn’t try to say anything, though his expression is telling enough. Chris frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, and doesn’t budge an inch.
“Give me one good reason for not punching your lights out. Don’t think I won’t.”
Kirk sighs, bowing his head. “Go ahead. Just tell me he’s okay first.”
“Yeah,” Chris says. “Like that’s gonna happen.”
Kirk stares at him, and there’s nothing of the arrogant asshole of two nights ago in his tired, bloodshot eyes, bleak with guilt.
“I screwed up,” he says quietly. “I know.”
“Good for you,” Chris snaps and reaches for the lock. “Goodbye.”
“Wait!” Kirk slams his hand against the sensor. “Just tell me he’s okay, and I’ll leave, I swear. Please.” He catches Chris’s gaze desperately. “Please.”
Chris stands still for a moment, wishing he were less reasonable, less... seasoned. Wisdom really is overrated when you can’t gain anything from it yourself.
“He’s not falling to pieces over your little… escapade,” he tells Kirk grudgingly. “Doesn’t mean-”
“I know.” Kirk cuts him off, like he can’t stand to relive it. “I know. But nothing happened. Nothing, really. I only...”
There are advantages to being young, Chris thinks. Young, good-looking, successful, famous. Chris knows, because Chris had all those things and then some in his time. Those who think Kirk is pretty should have seen Chris at twenty-five. And yes, he’d gotten his first ship way later, because, prodigy or no, order meant something back in those days, but Chris knows what it feels like to come home after a mission that only a Hercules could have pulled off and surrender to the welcoming arms of the adoring public. Chris knows what it’s like to walk into a bar and be pumped with the best alcohol across twelve star systems without paying for any of it. He knows how it feels to have the hottest things on the planet wrap their arms around him, kissing him senseless and whispering promises of allowing anything into his ear.
It’s intoxicating, Chris knows, especially when one isn’t spoiled with praise, when one is unused to receiving anyone’s approval. It’s head-spinning and wonderful, it feels amazing on par with being stoned on some really good stuff, and it’s almost impossible to fight, particularly when there’s no reason not to.
Except, unlike Chris, Kirk had a reason, didn’t he? That reason was there two nights ago, standing helpless and furious at the back of the room, watching as his partner didn’t put up even some token resistance to welcoming arms and eager lips. Spock didn’t want to be there, but Kirk talked him into going, only to forget about him the second they entered and people began to stare at Kirk as if sun shined out of his ass.
And Chris can relate to Kirk; he really can. Having been kicked and tossed all his life, how is one supposed to fight off the temptation of feeling what fame really tastes like when one knows it’s deserved? Kirk had paid for it with spilled blood and broken bones and a mind that worked at warp speed and refused to give up. He earned it, and it was there. He, who’d never been patted on the back for a job well done in his life - how was he to resist?
If that were all there was, Chris would have dismissed it with a patronizing smile, and that’d be the end of it. Even Spock could understand that.
Too bad that wasn’t all.
That wasn’t all, because when Spock finally grew tired of watching, five or six unbearable hours into it, and came over to take Kirk home, his partner laughed in his face. Kirk was beyond drunk, but people like Chris, people like Kirk, never really got that drunk anymore.
That was the moment when Chris wished he hadn’t stayed for that party and regretted not having drunk nearly enough himself. He would pay any price not to have seen Spock’s frowning, openly hurt face, when Kirk told him, laughing, ‘You’re not my mother, stop nagging me. Can’t you see I’m having fun?’ And Spock could see that, yes; everyone who was in the bar could see that, Chris included. The youngest captain in Starfleet was squeezed between four people who made their desires clear, and he was having tremendous fun basking in it. ‘Go away, Spock,’ Kirk told him, not really keeping track of his actions. ‘I’ll call you when I feel like being bored.’ The fact that everyone joined in on his laughter didn’t lessen Chris’s pain at the memory.
He followed Spock out that night, and Spock didn’t want to look at him at first, humiliation of every kind coloring his face like a rogue rainbow. Chris knew that he was probably the last person Spock wanted to see there just then, but it didn’t make him leave. Spock didn’t have a place to stay; he’d never planned on being anywhere but in the suite he and Jim had booked. Chris took Spock by the wrist and had them beamed to his house. Spock tensed, but didn’t say a word. Chris slipped a sedative into Spock’s tea, his conscience giving him no pangs.
Spock was his usual composed self come morning, mildly teasing Chris about his kidnapping methods and helping him make the house ready for the Christmas party. Chris didn’t have to ask him to stay as Spock made no attempt of leaving, and it was an incredible solace that they still felt so comfortable around each other that things like that didn’t need to be said. Spock knew this house as well as Chris did, and the quiet confidence of his movements brought back memories of other holiday breaks when Spock didn’t stay in the guest bedroom.
They didn’t talk about what had happened, and Chris noticed that, while Spock didn’t pull away from his touch, he didn’t let it linger, either. Chris couldn’t blame him. He had never been good at masking his emotions, and Spock was too adept in reading him - the years they spent together made that certain. Spock barely took part in conversation at the dinner table, despite sharing interest for a number of subjects with most of Chris’s guests, and went upstairs early. Chris wasn’t surprised, but he wasn’t happy, either.
“Can I see him?” Kirk asks quietly. “I know what you think, but - he’d want to see me.”
Chris purses his lips. “You know what I think, Kirk? I think that you’re a moron and an ass and-”
“And I don’t deserve him,” Kirk finishes.
For a moment, Chris stares at him blankly. “You know,” he says at last, “Spock isn’t perfect. There are a lot of things about him that are irritating, disturbing, and, bless his soul, illogical.” He pauses. “But I’d take him back in an instant. I’d take him back so fast you’d have to get a motion sickness treatment.”
Kirk stiffens, his whole silhouette going rigid, but he doesn’t say anything. Chris kind of wishes he did.
“I don’t care if you think you’re the next best thing since sliced bread. I don’t care if you are. I like you, Kirk; I really do. And I see where you’re coming from, sure. But I didn’t give him up for this, and I can’t forgive it. Spock” - Chris tilts his head back toward the house - “will forgive you, because the idiot is head over heels in love with you. He’ll forgive you anything. But I’m not, and I won’t. I can excuse this kind of shit only once, Kirk, you got me?”
Kirk holds his eyes, silent and somber.
“I was the one who dragged your ass out of that ditch back in Iowa,” Chris reminds him tersely. “If you ever - ever - do anything like that again, I’ll shove you back there before you know what’s happened. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Kirk snaps, but there’s more than wounded pride in his gaze. Something else is lurking there, something surprisingly like humility... and acceptance. “I would expect no less.”
Chris watches him coolly for the longest moment, before finally stepping aside from the doorway. “Winter garden,” he says, because there’s nothing more to say.
Kirk brushes past him, and Chris presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Not for the first time, he questions the wisdom of the decision he once made. Not for the first time, he finds it lacking. But he has never been so arrogant as to believe that he could control other people’s actions outside the small, tightly wound-up world of a starship. It’s not his fault, and it’s no longer his decision.
He walks into the library, carefully shuts the door, and turns on the music. Beethoven had said it all long ago, anyway. Chris closes his eyes and tries not to listen.
For: verizonhorizon
Prompt: Kirk/Spock (reboot or tos) Undercover mission!
Rating: PG-13
Spock does not like to improvise. He likes plans - definite, thoroughly calculated plans, detailed enough to foresee every possible circumstance. His mind is capable of combining variables at breathtaking speed, allowing him to switch gears fast enough to make some people believe he’s acting on instinct.
James Kirk is all about improvisation, and sometimes Spock really hates that about the man. He is long past denying the emotionalism of his reaction. That would be simply illogical. Kirk has a highly pronounced habit of listening to Spock’s plans, approving them, authorizing actions based on them, and then using the first convenient opportunity to derail them completely. It has happened so many times that Spock has given up pretending that the actions were anything but infuriating a long time ago.
That doesn’t mean he enjoys it any better.
His search has proved completely fruitless; it has been two hours, and this liner is an exceptionally large ship. Suppressing a resigned sigh, Spock stops a passing steward. “Excuse me. Have you seen my valet, by any chance?”
It’s an indication of how well the role of an extremely wealthy, illegitimate son of a Romulan senator fits Spock that the man pulls himself into a ringing string of eagerness the moment Spock’s eyes land on him.
“A young human, yellow hair, pale eyes, very attractive, wears a blue sash, kiriy?”
Spock mentally sighs. “Please tell me that was not all he was wearing when you saw him?”
The steward’s face contorts in an oily smile. “No, kiriy. He was decent.”
“That would be a first,” Spock mutters, only half in character. He reaches into his pocket and produces a credit chip, showing it to the steward.
The man’s eyes glint, and he licks his lips. “Second technical deck, kiriy. He was probably snooping around the kitchens.”
The schematics of the ship unfold in Spock’s mind in a flash, and he knows that, at this point, coming up with logical arguments against strangling his captain would be incredibly hard.
“Your assistance is appreciated,” he says, and lets go of the chip, moving on as the steward dives forward to catch it.
“Most generous, kiriy! If I may be so bold...”
Spock looks back with what he’s certain is very poorly concealed impatience. “Yes?”
The steward looks up from where he’s bent in a respectful bow, clearly ingratiating. “A man of your station should not trouble himself with undisciplined servants, kiriy. Here on this ship, we have... facilities. We could - make him see sense for you.”
Spock is having a hard time suppressing a smirk. “Tempting as the offer is - and I assure you, it is - I must decline. I will deal with him myself.”
The steward nods a little too deeply. “Yes, kiriy. Apologies for my presumption.”
Spock nods curtly and proceeds on his way, reflecting sourly that Kirk should thank his lucky stars, as humans would put it, that Spock is devoid of a sadistic streak. Some people just ask for it.
It’s harder for Spock than he imagines it has been for Kirk to sneak down into the off-limits zone, but he manages. ‘Snooping around the kitchens’ gave Spock a good idea of what Kirk is really after. His deduction proves correct when he discovers Kirk hunched in a hollow between two bulkheads, trying to pick the code of a weapons locker.
Spock stares for a moment, surprised, for the major part, at his own lack of surprise, before reaching out and deactivating the alarm sensor.
Kirk glances up momentarily and nods. “Nice catch. I haven’t seen that one.”
Spock suppresses a sigh. “What defect in your brain makes it imperative for you to make our existence and the fulfillment of our mission as difficult as possible?”
Kirk smirks without looking up. “I’m really getting to you, aren’t I?” He punches in another series of commands, frowning as the display blinks stubbornly in green. “Maybe I just like messing with your head, Spock.”
“Try altering the transitory derivative,” Spock suggests mildly. “And ‘maybe,’ Captain?”
Kirk snorts. “You know me too well.”
Spock stiffens suddenly. “Someone is approaching.”
“I’m almost there.”
“There is no time.”
“I said I’m almost-oogh!”
Spock yanks Kirk to his feet and slams him into the wall, twisting his arm behind his back none too gently and making sure Kirk’s body is blocking the locker door from view.
“Most disgraceful behavior,” Spock says loudly, pressing Kirk to the wall harder. “Making me waste my time looking for you when I require your services-”
“I was only gone a moment,” Kirk replies, more petulance in his voice than plea. “Please, master, I only-”
Spock slides his free hand between Kirk’s shoulder blades and presses two specific spots hard and precise. Kirk wails, throwing his head back and writhing in Spock’s hold. Spock knows it’s not playacting; the pain is genuine. He regrets it, but they need to be convincing. He twists his head sharply to look at the intruder.
It’s a young kitchen maid, standing not five feet afar, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes. Spock pulls Kirk’s arm further back abruptly, making the captain cry out, without taking his gaze off the girl.
“Something I can help you with?” he hisses as menacingly as he can.
“N-no, kiriy!” she refutes frantically. “I’m - I’m sorry, kiriy! I haven’t seen anything!”
“I’m sure you haven’t,” Spock snaps. “Get out.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice, and Spock listens to the fading panic of her hurried footsteps dying out in the distance.
“Spock,” Kirk calls in a tense, high-pitched voice. “Do you mind?”
“Hold still,” Spock orders quietly, gently releasing Kirk’s arm and using both hands to undo the damage he inflicted on Kirk’s back.
Kirk breathes heavily, gradually relaxing. “You so owe me a back rub after this,” he mutters.
Spock massages the abused muscles soothingly before tapping Kirk’s shoulder once, indicating he’s done. “When we return to the Enterprise, I will be happy to,” he says, without realizing he is speaking out loud.
Kirk turns around slowly, an incredulous expression on his face. “Really?”
Spock stares at him, blood rushing to his cheeks. “I... if you wish.”
Kirk’s eyes widen slightly. He bites his lip, a strangely serious, calculating expression on his face. “Really,” he repeats evenly, taking a step forward, which brings them uncomfortably close in the cramped space. “You trust me that much.”
“Yes,” Spock replies cautiously, edging away instinctively, until his back hits the wall.
Kirk’s eyebrows arch eloquently, as he steps forward again. “What if I told you,” he says quietly, his tone tense in an unfamiliar way, “that you really, really shouldn’t?”
Spock swallows, his mouth turning uncomfortably dry. “Should we not concentrate on extricating weapons?” he asks, his voice oddly feeble to his own ears.
“All done,” Kirk replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Told you, I only needed another moment. Soon as we’re out of warp, we can break Daisah out and jump this boat. Mission accomplished.”
“In that case-”
“Uh-uh, not so fast. I need to know exactly how far you will trust me, Spock.” Kirk draws even closer, smiling still, which is extremely disturbing.
“Captain.” Spock sighs, aiming for nonchalance. “Are you certain that now is the time for-”
Kirk kisses him, and there is nothing tentative about it. The kiss is Kirk as Spock knows him - brash, overwhelming, determined, insolent, unapologetic, and completely irresistible. This is exactly the kind of spontaneity that Spock hates about him, hates with all his heart - except, apparently, when he loves it, because he doesn’t know what he’s giving back, but he’s definitely giving something. Kirk moans softly into his mouth and presses closer, eager for whatever it is Spock seems to be offering.
“Jim, stop,” Spock breathes out, gripping Kirk’s shoulders and pushing him away.
Kirk doesn’t resist. “Do you-”
“Yes,” Spock says, knowing he is going to regret it, but it’s too late for that anyway. “Yes, but not here. Not now.”
“So you-”
“Yes, Jim. For a while.”
Kirk’s face attains a mildly thunderous expression. “And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me, huh?”
Spock shoves him back impatiently, leaning down to release the hand disruptors from the holder. “You were insufferable enough as it was.”
Kirk grabs his shoulder and jerks him up, anger clear in the abruptness of his motions. “You think this is a game for me?”
“Everything is a game for you.”
“Not this. Spock, you idiot - I’ve been-”
Spock holds up a hand, silencing him.
“What?” Kirk scowls.
Spock listens intently for a few seconds, then looks at Kirk calmly. “We have just dropped out of warp.”
Kirk rolls his eyes, but nods and snatches one of the disruptors out of Spock’s hand. He tucks it securely under his sash, the folds concealing the weapon completely.
“Let’s go,” Kirk orders grimly. “But this? Isn’t over.”
“No,” Spock says, resigned and hiding his own weapon. “Evidently, it isn’t.”
He follows the captain out, trying to reconcile with the fact that his life is going to be nothing but spontaneous from now on.