[Fic: Good Night's Sleep]
Title: Good Night's Sleep
Pairing: Spock/Bones
Prompt: Done for the RP's Holiday Swap-Fic: Bickering like an old married couple. (Optional) Fucking like a young married couple.
Warning: This probably doesn't follow the prompt that much, but this is what came out. Enjoy!
Summary: Spock knows just how to calm the Doctor after a long day.
Some days, he had no idea why he agreed to stay on as Jim’s CMO because some days, it just wasn’t worth it. Today had been one of those days, and it left him in a foul mood as he finally came back to his quarters more then four hours later than when his alpha shift should have ended. It was late, and the schedule didn’t care how much sleep he got or if he ate, just that he was back in sickbay and functional the next day at 0900.
The doors opened, and he started to swiftly pull off his heavily stained uniform. Leonard barely even gave a greeting-grunt towards the figure on his bed as he chucked the bundle of shirts into the laundry chute and started stripping away his pants as well. The longer he stayed around that smell, the closer he was to adding to it. He didn’t stop at his boxers, tossing every bit of clothing into the chute and immediately heading straight for the bathroom.
When he came out, hair damp from a fast shower, he was minimally grateful for being CMO if for no other reason than it meant he got a real shower on the ship instead of just sonics. It meant that at the end of a long day, he got to feel somewhat more human instead of a machine spewing out advice no one listened to and with hypos where his fingers should be. He crossed the room to his closet, palming aside blue shirts so where there was a small recessed shelf. The gleam of faint light on glass indicated where something was, letting him grab for the bottle and pull it free.
“Leonard.”
Leonard grunted again, getting a glass and filling it half full of amber liquor. Right now, it was part of the trifecta to making him turn human again: shower, alcohol, then sleep. The first two allowed him to get to the third.
“Leonard.”
He looked up towards the bed. Spock was propped up with pillows, giving him a somewhat blank expression over a slim pair of gold framed reading glasses. A padd was in his hands with text moving at a sluggish rate. Might have been something from the labs or engineering, for all he knew. “Spock,” He greeted back in the human tongue, heavy on the sarcasm this late at night.
“What delayed your arrival to our quarters?” Spock asked, and despite his resolve to keep his mouth shut about it, the dam walls broke.
“You know what kept me from actually leaving on time for once? Stupidity. We’re supposed to be a ship of geniuses and the best Starfleet’s turned out but I don’t see one sign of it. How hard is to follow basic god damn hygiene? Wash your hands, even that’s too hard for the best minds of the fleet!” He glowered as he sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing outwards with a hand, “I put out a notice to every person on this ship that that damn bug was going around and today I had more than a hundred cases of it show up in my sickbay. Ready to tell them to get out and go hover over their toilets instead of bothering me. After the tenth person threw up on me I was already fed up with it.”
Spock set aside the padd he had been working on after shutting down the program that had been running, then carefully removed the lightweight glasses he had been wearing, folded them neatly, and placed them on top of the padd. The glasses had come after Bones had noticed one day that Spock started to squint just slightly after a long day. Must have been one for them both. “Carrying the stress of your occupation to bed will ensure a poor night’s sleep.”
“Know,” Leonard held up the shot he had poured, knowing it would let him get to sleep quick enough. Just as he went to down the shot, though, long fingers cupped over the top of the glass and prevented it from reaching his lips. He arched a brow at Spock, who pulled his hand back with a look of disgust that reminded him of one of the barn cats after it had stepped into a puddle.
“Liquor is an unnecessary addition to your bedtime routine when there are methods that statistically prolong your existence instead of ending it prematurely due to liver failure.”
“I’m a grown man, Spock.” Leonard growled at Spock’s tone, “More than capable of knowing if I want a drink before I go to bed.”
“When you are frustrated like this, you allow yourself to commit foolish decisions that could be rectified in other fashions.” Spock removed the thick covers of the bed they shared, a way-point between keeping their quarters at a more toasty temperature which kept Leonard from sleeping and making sure that Spock kept comfortable when he slept. Leonard scowled further as Spock took the glass from his hand, and went to voice another protest when Spock stepped up behind him and laid hot hands on his shoulders. When Leonard felt Spock’s fingers start to tighten, he jerked away.
“Nuh-uh,” He glared up at Spock, “You’re not going to pinch-“
“Leonard, if I desired to force you into an unconscious state, you would already be there. I would prefer if you had a good night’s rest and woke up without complaint of your sleep. Remain still.” Leonard gave Spock a look through narrowed eyes, then grumbled to himself about pointy eared bastards and their arrogance. The hands were once again replaced on Leonard’s shoulders, and through strong, dexterous motions began to massage deep into the tense tissue.
There was no masseuse like a Vulcan one. Leonard groaned low as super-heated fingers dug into every knot he had built up over the long shift he had just put up with and probably some he had forgotten about. He wondered if Spock was digging those crafty fingers into his mind to find every pain-
It is not necessary for me to do so, as you speak quite loudly to yourself.
Leonard jumped a little with that voice in his mind. It was far from the first time he had heard it, but he was pretty god damn sure he was never going to get used to it. “Then how are you findin’ out where the knots are?”
“The electrical impulses your body produces change depending on the tightness of your muscles,” Leonard was pleased that Spock had switched to a vocal speech instead of in his head, “I am merely following the impulses to their origins and removing the tension where the origins meet.”
There might have been a protesting noise that left Leonard, but it was quickly buried under a groan as Spock’s strong fingers dug into the thick muscle at the top of his right shoulder. He didn’t think twice when Spock gave him the quiet command to lay down on his stomach, zoning out neatly as Spock worked down the length of his spine. He groaned with a feeling like sex as Spock made his spine pop, letting things sink into their proper places. It was hard to think about geniuses who could do the most advanced calculations but couldn’t remember to cover their mouths when they coughed or wash their hands when one’s body was melting into a puddle of goo.
“Leonard,” The name came from some distance away, vague and unsure. Leonard couldn’t find it in him to respond, but did respond in a sleepy way as Spock urged him to bring his hips up just a little, working long fingers under his ribs and urging the pressure from them. Spock was a warm length against his body, the Vulcan’s legs on the outside of his, pressure against the backs of his thighs.
“You require rest.” Spock said aloud, or in his mind, distant through the warmth Spock had encouraged in his body. Enough warmth that in the end, he lost the moment when Spock’s hand had encircled his cock, stroking in slow motions that pulled blood into his groin. Leonard started to give a protest, that he was too tired and didn’t want to get involved in any sort of hanky-panky right now.
He only got out about half a word before Spock leaned over him and spoke right by his ear, “It would not be relaxing if I required any physical compensation from you. You will silence your protests.” Leonard grumbled very quietly, but couldn’t argue with the steady pull on his cock after Spock had massaged the ability to argue out of him. All that was required of him was the lazy motion of his hips in time with Spock’s fist, a few bass grunts that came from the lowest parts of his chest, a muttered babble of Southern-thick curses as he finally came into Spock’s cupping hand.
There was silence, and the warmth left the back of him. It was gone only a minute, where Leonard imagined hazily that Spock was cleaning up his hand, before it climbed back into bed with him. Spock lightly tugged him into the length of his body, spooning him. It was impossible not to fall asleep, the slow hum of Spock’s contentment in the back of his mind.
Pairing: Spock/Bones
Prompt: Done for the RP's Holiday Swap-Fic: Bickering like an old married couple. (Optional) Fucking like a young married couple.
Warning: This probably doesn't follow the prompt that much, but this is what came out. Enjoy!
Summary: Spock knows just how to calm the Doctor after a long day.
Some days, he had no idea why he agreed to stay on as Jim’s CMO because some days, it just wasn’t worth it. Today had been one of those days, and it left him in a foul mood as he finally came back to his quarters more then four hours later than when his alpha shift should have ended. It was late, and the schedule didn’t care how much sleep he got or if he ate, just that he was back in sickbay and functional the next day at 0900.
The doors opened, and he started to swiftly pull off his heavily stained uniform. Leonard barely even gave a greeting-grunt towards the figure on his bed as he chucked the bundle of shirts into the laundry chute and started stripping away his pants as well. The longer he stayed around that smell, the closer he was to adding to it. He didn’t stop at his boxers, tossing every bit of clothing into the chute and immediately heading straight for the bathroom.
When he came out, hair damp from a fast shower, he was minimally grateful for being CMO if for no other reason than it meant he got a real shower on the ship instead of just sonics. It meant that at the end of a long day, he got to feel somewhat more human instead of a machine spewing out advice no one listened to and with hypos where his fingers should be. He crossed the room to his closet, palming aside blue shirts so where there was a small recessed shelf. The gleam of faint light on glass indicated where something was, letting him grab for the bottle and pull it free.
“Leonard.”
Leonard grunted again, getting a glass and filling it half full of amber liquor. Right now, it was part of the trifecta to making him turn human again: shower, alcohol, then sleep. The first two allowed him to get to the third.
“Leonard.”
He looked up towards the bed. Spock was propped up with pillows, giving him a somewhat blank expression over a slim pair of gold framed reading glasses. A padd was in his hands with text moving at a sluggish rate. Might have been something from the labs or engineering, for all he knew. “Spock,” He greeted back in the human tongue, heavy on the sarcasm this late at night.
“What delayed your arrival to our quarters?” Spock asked, and despite his resolve to keep his mouth shut about it, the dam walls broke.
“You know what kept me from actually leaving on time for once? Stupidity. We’re supposed to be a ship of geniuses and the best Starfleet’s turned out but I don’t see one sign of it. How hard is to follow basic god damn hygiene? Wash your hands, even that’s too hard for the best minds of the fleet!” He glowered as he sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing outwards with a hand, “I put out a notice to every person on this ship that that damn bug was going around and today I had more than a hundred cases of it show up in my sickbay. Ready to tell them to get out and go hover over their toilets instead of bothering me. After the tenth person threw up on me I was already fed up with it.”
Spock set aside the padd he had been working on after shutting down the program that had been running, then carefully removed the lightweight glasses he had been wearing, folded them neatly, and placed them on top of the padd. The glasses had come after Bones had noticed one day that Spock started to squint just slightly after a long day. Must have been one for them both. “Carrying the stress of your occupation to bed will ensure a poor night’s sleep.”
“Know,” Leonard held up the shot he had poured, knowing it would let him get to sleep quick enough. Just as he went to down the shot, though, long fingers cupped over the top of the glass and prevented it from reaching his lips. He arched a brow at Spock, who pulled his hand back with a look of disgust that reminded him of one of the barn cats after it had stepped into a puddle.
“Liquor is an unnecessary addition to your bedtime routine when there are methods that statistically prolong your existence instead of ending it prematurely due to liver failure.”
“I’m a grown man, Spock.” Leonard growled at Spock’s tone, “More than capable of knowing if I want a drink before I go to bed.”
“When you are frustrated like this, you allow yourself to commit foolish decisions that could be rectified in other fashions.” Spock removed the thick covers of the bed they shared, a way-point between keeping their quarters at a more toasty temperature which kept Leonard from sleeping and making sure that Spock kept comfortable when he slept. Leonard scowled further as Spock took the glass from his hand, and went to voice another protest when Spock stepped up behind him and laid hot hands on his shoulders. When Leonard felt Spock’s fingers start to tighten, he jerked away.
“Nuh-uh,” He glared up at Spock, “You’re not going to pinch-“
“Leonard, if I desired to force you into an unconscious state, you would already be there. I would prefer if you had a good night’s rest and woke up without complaint of your sleep. Remain still.” Leonard gave Spock a look through narrowed eyes, then grumbled to himself about pointy eared bastards and their arrogance. The hands were once again replaced on Leonard’s shoulders, and through strong, dexterous motions began to massage deep into the tense tissue.
There was no masseuse like a Vulcan one. Leonard groaned low as super-heated fingers dug into every knot he had built up over the long shift he had just put up with and probably some he had forgotten about. He wondered if Spock was digging those crafty fingers into his mind to find every pain-
It is not necessary for me to do so, as you speak quite loudly to yourself.
Leonard jumped a little with that voice in his mind. It was far from the first time he had heard it, but he was pretty god damn sure he was never going to get used to it. “Then how are you findin’ out where the knots are?”
“The electrical impulses your body produces change depending on the tightness of your muscles,” Leonard was pleased that Spock had switched to a vocal speech instead of in his head, “I am merely following the impulses to their origins and removing the tension where the origins meet.”
There might have been a protesting noise that left Leonard, but it was quickly buried under a groan as Spock’s strong fingers dug into the thick muscle at the top of his right shoulder. He didn’t think twice when Spock gave him the quiet command to lay down on his stomach, zoning out neatly as Spock worked down the length of his spine. He groaned with a feeling like sex as Spock made his spine pop, letting things sink into their proper places. It was hard to think about geniuses who could do the most advanced calculations but couldn’t remember to cover their mouths when they coughed or wash their hands when one’s body was melting into a puddle of goo.
“Leonard,” The name came from some distance away, vague and unsure. Leonard couldn’t find it in him to respond, but did respond in a sleepy way as Spock urged him to bring his hips up just a little, working long fingers under his ribs and urging the pressure from them. Spock was a warm length against his body, the Vulcan’s legs on the outside of his, pressure against the backs of his thighs.
“You require rest.” Spock said aloud, or in his mind, distant through the warmth Spock had encouraged in his body. Enough warmth that in the end, he lost the moment when Spock’s hand had encircled his cock, stroking in slow motions that pulled blood into his groin. Leonard started to give a protest, that he was too tired and didn’t want to get involved in any sort of hanky-panky right now.
He only got out about half a word before Spock leaned over him and spoke right by his ear, “It would not be relaxing if I required any physical compensation from you. You will silence your protests.” Leonard grumbled very quietly, but couldn’t argue with the steady pull on his cock after Spock had massaged the ability to argue out of him. All that was required of him was the lazy motion of his hips in time with Spock’s fist, a few bass grunts that came from the lowest parts of his chest, a muttered babble of Southern-thick curses as he finally came into Spock’s cupping hand.
There was silence, and the warmth left the back of him. It was gone only a minute, where Leonard imagined hazily that Spock was cleaning up his hand, before it climbed back into bed with him. Spock lightly tugged him into the length of his body, spooning him. It was impossible not to fall asleep, the slow hum of Spock’s contentment in the back of his mind.