Daffodil Time, Part 15/17
Title: Daffodil Time
Author: ladyblahblah
Beta: ninjaboots
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot . . . ish
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title is from a William Carlos William poem. I can't even take full credit for the idea, and all of the adorable can be traced directly to momo_girlie and her painfully cute drawings. *fangirl flail*
Summary: Vague A/U. What would have happened if Kirk and Spock had known each other as children? Yes, another one of those.
Author's Note: All right, guys, don't say I never did anything for you. ^_~
Part 1│Part 2│Part 3│Part 4│Part 5│Part 6│Part 7│Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
“Altair,” Jim snaps, shoving at the heavy head nudging his shoulder. “Quit it. I told you, I don’t have any treats today.”
The horse ignores the admonishment, still staring hopefully after him, like an overgrown puppy, as Jim heads into the stables. Jim grits his teeth. It’s not her fault; normally he has an apple or a handful of carrots for her, and he’s happily stood and brushed her coat until it shone. She’s used to the attention, he knows. But today Jim is in a mood, and all he wants is hard, punishing work, the kind that makes his muscles ache all day afterwards.
His argument with Jo last night had been awful. Everything had been fine until he’d said he had to go; in retrospect, he probably should have known better than to mention Spock at all, let alone tell her he had to leave because he felt bad about leaving his friend alone for so long. Jim can still see the way Jo’s eyes had narrowed, hear the bite in her voice.
“Fine, go. You got what you came over for, right? Go back to your little Vulcan blow-up doll; you care more about him than you do about me, anyway.”
Things had gotten really nasty after that. Jo had only gotten angrier when he hadn’t denied the accusation, but how could he? It was true and they both knew it, though Jim had at least had the sense not to say that. Meanwhile, he had been furious about the way she had talked about his friend, and telling her so had been like throwing water on a grease fire. They had snapped and snarled at each other until Jim was ready to just break up and be done with the whole thing. That suggestion had had Jo apologizing with tears in her eyes, begging him not to go. She’d always been very persuasive when she wanted to be, and after another twenty minutes of tearful apologies, promises to try her best to get along with Spock, and an I’m-sorry handjob, Jim had left somewhat dazed and somehow still in possession of a girlfriend.
It’s been the same pattern for weeks now, Jim thinks morosely as he shovels out Tornado’s stall. It seems like they spend all their time arguing, and making up, and arguing again. Most of the time he doesn’t even know why they’re still dating. But every time it seems like things are getting close to ending, they . . . don’t. Jim always finds himself agreeing to give their relationship another chance, despite the fact that all he really wants is for things to be over.
He knows that he probably ought to just break up with her. He’s tried, sort of, but he doesn’t really know how to do it. Things with Tama and Seth and Regan just kind of ended on their own, petering out naturally after a few weeks. Jim has never actually ended anything before, never been the one to put a stop to a relationship, and he’s not really sure he knows how. Even with Spock-
Jim feels his heart give a moronic little leap, and scowls. Can’t he even think his friend’s name without turning into a complete mess? It’s not like that with them anymore, he reminds himself. Spock is too logical to want to play at being boyfriends when they’re apart most of the time; and besides, Jim’s seeing Jo now so it doesn’t even matter, anyway.
It would be easier, he knows, if Spock hadn’t shown up all tall and hot and gorgeous and sexy. Jim leans on his shovel, taking a break as he remembers the week before.
He’d been so excited to have his friend back that it had taken him until he was halfway to the ‘car to realize that something was different. Spock was still Spock, still pale and serious-looking with that same goofy haircut he’d had since the first time they met. Only it didn’t seem quite so goofy on him now; not when Jim was busy taking in the new breadth of his chest and shoulders, and the several extra inches of height that made him suddenly taller than Jim for the first time in nine years. His jaw had grown firmer and squarer as well. This was no longer the baby-faced boy who had snuck kisses with him in a darkened theater, but someone almost entirely new, gorgeous and alien and completely untouchable.
Quite literally untouchable, Jim had realized quickly, unless he wanted Spock to know all the ridiculous, inappropriately filthy things that had jumped into Jim’s head the moment he saw him. So Jim has been keeping his distance, which is a new and unexpected sort of torture. He’s used to touching Spock, to playful shoves and slaps on the shoulder and resting his weight against him when they’re sitting next to each other. Used to holding his hand, even back before it meant anything. He hadn’t realized just how often they used to touch until he discovered how many times a day he has to hold himself back. Jim feels as though his body is in constant orbit around Spock’s, as though Jim’s awareness of him goes down to his very bones, pulling at him like a strange new gravity.
Jim shakes himself and goes back to work. He pushes himself harder, using the burn in his muscles to edge out the thoughts that keep crowding his brain. He can’t keep thinking like this; it’s not fair to anyone, not to him or to Spock or to Joelle. So Jim works until his shoulders are screaming and sweat is pouring off of him in rivers. He’s filthy and exhausted and just about finished by the time Mrs. Torney comes out and tosses a bottle of water at him without waiting to see if he’s paying attention. Jim catches it, barely, and guzzles down almost the whole thing while she looks around, nodding, hands on her hips.
“Well, you’re a hard worker, Jimmy, no one can argue that. I had some reservations about hiring someone so young, I won’t lie to you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jim swipes at the sweat that’s trickling into his eyes. “You’ve told me so about a dozen times.”
“You watch your mouth, young man,” she says sharply, her eyes narrowing to slits in her heavily-lined face. “I’m old enough to be your mama’s mama; you talk to me with respect.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jim mumbles. “Sorry.”
She regards him suspiciously for another moment before breaking into a smile. “You’ve got some fire in you; don’t like anyone telling you that you can’t do something. You remind me of your daddy that way.” Jim’s stomach clenches slightly, in discomfort or pleasure he can’t quite say. Mrs. Torney’s sharp brown eyes fix hard on him. “A sense of independence isn’t a bad thing, son. But you’ll wanna be sure yours doesn’t land you in trouble with someone who can and will kick your scrawny ass, you hear?”
Jim’s lips twitch into a smile at that. It’s the first time he’s smiled all day; it feels good.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says again, and only in part because he knows full well that she probably can kick his ass if she wants to.
“Good,” she nods sharply, and looks around one more time. “You’re finished. Get on home.”
As easily as that she seems to dismiss him from her mind, striding forward to where both of the horses are standing at the fence waiting for her. Jim’s learned better than to take it personally; there’s nothing on two legs that Mrs. Torney cares for as much as her horses, Mr. Torney had joked with him once, and Jim learned quickly enough that it was true at least as far as teenaged hired hands were concerned.
It’s not too far to bike back home, really, but unless he wants to be completely unable to move by the time he gets back, it’s better to drive, and he’s already daydreaming about a hot shower as he starts up his speeder. His stomach twists nervously, however, at the thought of home. He never exactly comes back from work smelling like a basket of roses, but he pushed himself harder than usual today and the smell of the horses is a breath of fresh air compared to the way he stinks now. Not that he ever really worried about it before Spock got here, but Jim tells himself that he just doesn’t want to offend Spock: Vulcans have a more developed sense of smell than Humans do, after all, and he doesn’t want his friend keeling over from the scent of him.
He actually almost believes it.
It turns out not to matter, though, because the rented ‘car is missing from the front drive when Jim gets back to the house. Spock’s still gone, then. That’s fine. This way Jim will have a chance to shower and take care of that whole smelling-like-a-biohazard problem before he accidentally kills his friend with his stench. This is better, really, than having Spock beat him home.
Yeah. Definitely better.
Frank comes out of the house laden down with bags as Jim is parking his speeder. He has to set them on the ground to get the trunk of his ‘car open, and Jim hesitates for a moment. In the end, though, rolling his eyes at himself, he hops down and goes over to haul one of the bags inside.
“Thanks,” Frank says, surprised and a little short of breath. “You’re back early.”
“Finished quicker than usual.” Jim stands awkwardly for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Need any more help?”
“I . . .” Frank looks like he’s not quite sure what to say, and Jim tenses. “No,” he finishes eventually, a tired smile crossing his face. “You seem pretty worn-out. I can get the rest of it.”
“Okay.” Jim hesitates for just a moment. Then he snaps out of whatever was holding him in place and heads inside without a backwards glance, unwilling to investigate the slight tightness in his chest.
He gathers up fresh clothes from his room before he heads to the bathroom, just in case Spock is already back by the time he gets out of the shower. It’s difficult enough sharing a room with someone he can’t stop thinking of in increasingly inappropriate ways. If Spock has noticed Jim’s tendency to wake . . . enthusiastic in the morning, he’s been considerate enough not to mention it. That kind of thing, unfortunately, is quite a bit more difficult to conceal when all you’re wearing is a towel, and Jim had realized right away that standing mostly naked in a bedroom with his unfairly sexy best friend was something he should probably avoid at all costs.
Spock, of course, never forgets to take a clean set of robes to the shower with him, so at least Jim hasn’t had to deal with seeing him wet and barely clothed.
He tries really hard to remember that that’s a good thing.
The water feels almost obscenely good when he steps into the shower. He tilts his head back, letting the hot spray rinse away the sweat and salt and dust and dirt, and for just a moment, everything falls away. Jo, Spock, Frank; all the little irritations and frustrations that have been eating at him seem to slip from his skin as the hot water works at his sore muscles.
Jim relishes the feeling. He’s been cold lately; not physically, but mentally somehow, and he suspects he knows why. He remembers standing in front of the house, staring up at Spock and thinking frantically that he had to keep his thoughts to himself, to keep Spock from finding out how very much Jim was wishing at that moment that he was still free to greet him with a warm, lingering kiss. Jim hadn’t know which prospect had frightened him more: Spock’s discomfort, or his pity.
He isn’t sure how he managed to shield their link, only that at some point in his panicked mental flailing he’d realized that Spock’s mind seemed somehow farther away, or . . . fuzzy somehow, like there was something not quite solid hovering in between them. It’s simultaneously a relief and a disappointment. The thought of Spock discovering the direction Jim’s mind has been wandering for the past two weeks is terrifying, but it doesn’t feel right to be cut off from him like this. It’s another type of distance he’s having to get used to, and he doesn’t like it. Still, he reminds himself, it’s better than the alternative.
At least, Jim thinks as he works a thick lather into his hair, he hasn’t had any of his nightmares since Spock arrived. He’s not sure just how much access his friend might have to his mind when he’s dreaming, but he’d just as soon not take the risk. Not that he wouldn’t if he had to; just the thought of trying to get through one of those things without Spock is enough to make his stomach crawl.
Even now, nearly six months after his last one, Jim is still afraid to go to sleep sometimes, afraid of what might be waiting for him there. Most of the time, though, he allows himself to believe that they’re really gone. He needs them to be; he doesn’t ever want to go back there, not even if it’s all just in his head.
When he’s clean and as relaxed as he’s going to get, Jim shuts off the water and steps out of the shower to towel himself off, glancing in the mirror as he does so. He tries to take a critical look at what he sees. His skin on his face and arms is getting darker, though he’s developing a bit of a farmer’s tan from wearing a t-shirt while he works. The sun has begun to tease out bits of blonde in his hair, as well. On the whole, his impression of himself is one that’s warm and solid and unmistakably Human.
He thinks of Spock, of pale skin and a long, lanky frame. Are all Vulcans like that, Jim wonders? Is that what Spock wants? Tall, dark, logical and aloof? Everything that Jim will probably never be?
It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, and turns sharply from the mirror to pull his clothes on over skin still sticky with dampness.
Spock still isn’t back when Jim goes back to his room to drop his dirty clothes in the hamper. The house is quiet when he goes downstairs, as well. Glancing out the front window he sees that the adults are all outside, gathered around Frank’s ‘car. Jim dawdles a bit-goes back upstairs to get a book from his room, grabs a glass of iced tea from the kitchen-before he finally steps out onto the front porch.
“Jimmy.” His mom shades her eyes with the flat of her hand as she peers up at him. “Just in time. Frank’s just about to leave.”
“I didn’t want to take off without saying goodbye,” Frank offers.
Jim nods, feeling frozen in place. He can’t seem to make his feet work; he can’t even decide if he wants them to.
“Cool,” he finally manages to say, and shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “Um. Have a good trip.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Frank smiles. “I’ll try.” He turns back to Jim’s mom, and Jim turns away when he pulls her into a hug. “I’ll comm you before we break orbit. Probably around ten o’clock here.”
“I’ll be here.” They separate, and Jim’s mom presses a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Frank gives Spock’s mom a quick hug. “It was good to see you again, Amanda.”
“Take care, Frank,” she says, and Jim is only a little bit ashamed of the vindication he feels when she doesn’t quite return the sentiment.
Finally the ‘car is loaded and the final goodbyes are said, and Frank is gone. Jim’s mom watches until the last of the dust has faded from the air. Then she turns, scrubbing her hands over her face, and smiles faintly at Jim.
“Well. What are your plans for the rest of the day, Jim?”
He shrugs. “Hang around here until Spock gets back, I guess. And there’s that party tonight.”
“Right, this party.” Spock’s mom looks vaguely worried. “Jim, are you sure-”
“I asked Spock about it, and he said it’s cool if we go,” he reminds her. “And I already promised him we’d leave if he gets uncomfortable or bored or anything.” He frowns slightly. “Though Ainsley’s gonna be there, so I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
They both look like they’re biting back smiles at that, and Jim scowls in return until Spock’s mom manages to compose her expression.
“And there will be adult supervision there?”
“Yeah,” Jim lies easily. “Danny’s parents are gonna be home.”
“All right, then,” Spock’s mom says, exchanging satisfied glances with her friend. “Winona, did you still want to go to town today?”
“I’m up for it if you are.” She turns to Jim, eyeing him hesitantly. “Amanda and I were planning to do some shopping and maybe catch a movie. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
“I’m fourteen, Mom,” Jim says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“You can come with us if you want.”
Jim stares back at her, mildly horrified. “That’s okay. I’ll stay here and just . . . wait for Spock to get back.”
“All right.” She starts to head into the house, but hesitates when she reaches the top step. “If you change your mind-”
“Oh my god, Mom, just go.”
“We’ll both have our communicators on us,” Spock’s mom says with a grin. “Call us before you leave for the party.”
“Okay, we will, have fun!”
Laughing, both women dart inside and emerge a moment later with their bags. Jim settles himself on the porch’s padded wooden swing and waves reluctantly when they drive off. Moms are so embarrassing, he thinks to himself, unwilling to admit to the little flare of warmth that’s lodged itself beneath his breastbone. Instead he puts his feet up on the railing and opens his book, ready for a distraction.
He can’t seem to focus on Basil Hallward and Lord Henry at the moment, however. Every sudden sound has him looking up, expecting to see the rented ‘car coming up the road. Jim wonders dimly, as he tries to go back to his book, if this is how Spock feels when Jim goes off to spend time with Joelle. Probably not; Spock has plenty to do to keep himself busy, after all. The mere thought of him sitting around, pining for his missing friend, is ridiculous. In fact-
Jim is distracted from his litany of self-recrimination by the sound he’s been waiting for, and glances up to see the shiny ‘car settling gracefully in front of the house. He lowers his eyes quickly back to his book and tries to will away the sense of eager anticipation that’s thrumming through his veins. No need to broadcast the fact that he feels like a stupid little kid with his first crush again. Jim doesn’t look up again until he hears Spock step onto the porch, and mentally congratulates himself on keeping his cool as he closes his book with an easy grin.
“Hey.” He stretches his arms above his head, groaning a little at the pleasant burn in his muscles. “How’d it go?”
“Ainsley is, in fact, an accomplished Kadis-kot player. Her logic is quite impressive for . . .”
Jim looks up at him, curious. “A girl?”
“A Human,” Spock corrects archly, and Jim has to laugh. “Kathryn competed well; Brian, however, seemed more inclined to hinder our efforts whenever possible than to attempt to win himself.”
“Yeah, but don’t think that’s a strategy or anything,” Jim grins. “He just sucks at the game.”
Spock’s eyebrows lift in mild surprise. “You have played with him before?”
“Yeah. Five of us used to get together every week. But then Kara moved, and the rest of us got busy, so . . .” He shrugs.
“I see.” Spock looks almost troubled, and for a moment Jim is sorely tempted to try to lower the shields he’s put up so that he can get a hint at what Spock’s thinking. The moment passes, however, and Spock is simply regarding him thoughtfully. “I was unaware that you played. We might have easily scheduled our game for a time when you could join us.”
Jim smiles, enjoying the warm glow that’s spreading through him. “Nah,” he says, “it’s cool. I mean, it’s an okay game, but I’d actually take a good chess match over Kadis-kot any day.”
“In all honesty, I feel the same way,” Spock admits.
“Yeah?” Jim hesitates for just a moment. “You know, I have that new tri-dimensional set that I got for Christmas. I’ve hardly had a chance to use it, and we’ve still got a while before the party. Maybe if you don’t have too much studying to do, we can play for a while.”
Spock hesitates, and Jim braces himself for a polite, logical rejection. But then Spock’s lips are curving up in one of his almost-smiles, the kind that only Jim ever gets to see, and he feels so light that he has to stop himself from checking that he hasn’t floated right off the ground.
“I do not believe that my studies would suffer unduly if I were to take a break from them today.”
“Great,” Jim beams happily. “Okay. Wanna play out here?”
“That is acceptable.”
“Cool. I’ll go get the board.”
Spock gets them fresh drinks while Jim runs upstairs, and before long they’re sitting on the porch’s weathered floorboards with the game between them. A warm breeze sends the scent of fresh-mown fields washing over them, and every now and then Jim can hear Argus’s full-throated bark off in the distance. It’s incredibly relaxing to sit there with Spock, even though Jim’s stomach gives a funny little jolt every time he looks at Spock staring intensely at the chessboard. It feels so simple, so good to just chill out together like this, that Jim is surprised to realize that the sky is growing dark.
“Shit,” he says, “what time is it?”
“Eight thirty-seven,” Spock answers promptly, “and fifty-”
“Don’t really need the seconds, Spock.” Jim scrambles to his feet. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”
“I was under the impression that one did not adhere to a specific schedule for this type of event,” Spock says, gathering up the board and pieces and following Jim into the house.
“Well, not exactly. But I said we’d meet Jo there at nine. I’ve just gotta fix my hair and get changed.”
“I see.” They head upstairs and Jim goes straight for the bathroom to try to coax his hair into suitable shape. Spock appears at the doorway a moment later, hands clasped behind his back as he watches Jim use a dollop of gel to get that messy-on-purpose look that Jo likes so much. “It is unlikely that we will be able to make it into town in just twenty minutes,” Spock says, and Jim snorts.
“Good thing we’re not going all the way to town, then.”
Spock’s brow furrows just the slightest bit. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re not going to the party in town,” Jim explains calmly, running his hands through his hair one last time before stepping back for a critical look. “That’s just a decoy. The real party’s out at the quarry; should take five minutes to get there, ten tops.”
“James,” Spock begins, and Jim turns to clap a reassuring hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid any direct skin-to-skin contact.
“Trust me, Spock, this is gonna be way more fun. Don’t worry.”
“Vulcans do not worry,” Spock reminds him, stepping aside to let Jim hurry past. “However,” he adds as Jim dashes into his bedroom in search of a new shirt, “every time you tell me not to, I am tempted to start.”
Jim laughs loudly at that. “We’ll have fun,” he insists. “If we don’t, I promise we can come back here and watch a vid or play another game of chess or whatever you want, okay?”
The look Spock fixes him with is unreadable. Eventually, though, he inclines his head, and at his murmured, “Very well,” Jim goes back to hunting for his favorite shirt. He finds it at last and changes as quickly as possible, keeping his back to Spock so that he can pretend he’s neither embarrassed nor turned on at the idea of stripping down in front of his friend. A quick glance in the the mirror on the back of his closet door, another quick fluff of his hair, and he’s ready to go.
“All set,” he says, and turns to find Spock regarding him thoughtfully once again. “What’s up?”
“Should I alter my hair and clothing, as well?” Spock asks, almost hesitantly.
The idea of Spock with flyaway hair is-oh, well, surprisingly hot, actually. Jim takes a moment to look him over, though, from the top of his head down to the tips of his shoes just barely visible beneath his long robes.
“No,” he says at last, and flushes, clearing his throat to get rid of the slightly breathless quality his voice has developed. “You look. Ah. You look fine.” He nods decisively and starts forward before pausing again. “You might want to bring a sweater, though; we’re gonna be outside, and you know how easily you get cold.”
They take the speeder, and Spock declares himself fascinated by the way the gel Jim has in his hair keeps the wind from doing too much damage. Like he’s one to talk, Jim thinks to himself-when they climb down Spock’s hair settles into place as smoothly as ever. It takes a concentrated effort of will to keep from reaching out and ruffling it into temporary disorder the way he used to do, but Jim manages it.
There are already a couple dozen people there, set up a few hundred feet back from the edge of the quarry. Someone’s ‘car is pumping some sort of raw, thumping music into the air, and people are scattered in groups around the impromptu fire pit that someone’s dug. Jim can smell hot dogs cooking, and the hot sweet scent of burning marshmallows.
“Jimmy! There you are!” Jim berates himself for the way his stomach clenches when Jo comes running up, and makes up for it by holding on tight when she flings her arms around him. “Hey, baby,” she purrs, and tugs him down for a kiss.
Her lips taste like cherry and the faint burn of alcohol. Jim pulls back before he gets more than that first quick taste, incredibly conscious of Spock standing stiffly at his side.
“Started without me, I guess,” he teases lightly, dropping his arms and stepping back until Jo does the same. “Who’s holding?”
“Jordan’s older sister hooked us up; I bet if you asked real nice you could get a beer.”
“I’m okay for now. Spock, you want anything?”
“You are referring to alcoholic beverages?”
“Yeah, he’s referring alcoholic beverages,” Jo says snidely. “This is a party; Jimmy has explained parties to you, hasn’t he?”
“Jo!” Jim frowns and takes another step back. “What the hell?”
“I am familiar with the concept,” Spock says calmly. “However, as Vulcans metabolize alcohol quite differently than Humans, I will abstain. James, if you will excuse me, I believe I will go say hello to Ainsley and Kathryn.”
He walks off, icy dignity draped around him like a cloak, and Jim turns back to glare at his girlfriend.
“Sorry,” she winces. “You know I turn into a bitch when I drink too much.”
Only then? Jim thinks, but bites back the words before they can make it out of his mouth.
“In that case I’m cutting you off,” he says instead, and though Jo pouts she doesn’t argue as she takes his hand and leads him towards the fire.
Most of Jim’s friends are there, and he tries to relax and have fun as he talks with them. His eyes keep seeking out Spock, though, watching him talk with Katie while Brian hovers nearby. It looks like Spock is enjoying himself, which is good. He certainly doesn’t look like he needs rescuing; in fact, he’s hardly glanced Jim’s way since they arrived. That’s also probably good, because Jim can feel his expression falling every time takes a step and Jo immediately follows to plaster herself against him again. Finally, though, Brian steps in and whispers something in Katie’s ear that has her giggling and waving as they stumble away, and Spock makes his way over to the fire at last.
“Hey, man.” Jim considers trying to move away from Jo again, but figures it probably won’t be any more effective the sixth time around than it was the previous five. “Having fun?”
“I thought Vulcans didn’t ‘have fun’,” Jo says innocently, and her sister laughs a little too loudly.
“Maybe that’s just because they don’t have the right incentive.” Padisa smirks around the mouth of her bottle. “I bet if he was getting some he’d loosen up a little. HEY!” she calls out. “Who wants to make a man out of the Vulcan?”
“Cut it out,” Jim says with a frown, his stomach knotting a little at the stiffness in Spock’s shoulders.
“Too bad no Human in their right mind would want to get seriously involved with anything that bland and boring.” Jo’s eyes are burning into Spock’s, and Jim wonders how she can possible miss the fact that Spock’s are burning right back.
“I’m afraid your logic is unsound,” Spock says quietly. “As a matter of fact, my mother is Human, yet she chose to marry my father.”
“Well, your dad’s like, an ambassador, right? You guys must be totally loaded to afford a trip to Earth every year.” Jo smirks, looking Spock dismissively up and down. “So I’m sure she got something out of it.”
For several long seconds Jim feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe as he watches the heat in Spock’s eyes blaze into an inferno. Spock looks as though he’s barely holding back the urge to beat Joelle bloody; his hands have curled into fists, and in the firelight he seems toweringly tall and terrifying in his fury. Then abruptly he turns and strides quickly away, and everyone within earshot seems to finally let out a collective breath.
“What . . . the hell . . . is wrong with you?” Jim grinds out, tearing himself away from Joelle. He’s staring down at her, and it feels like he’s never truly seen her before. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”
“It was just a joke, Jim,” Padisa complains, but a single furious look from him has her eyes widening, and she takes a step back.
“Jimmy, I didn’t mean-”
“No, you never mean the shit you say, do you?” Jim bites out. “But you keep saying it anyway. You’ve been trying to tear Spock down since you met him, and I can’t believe I let you get away with it for this long. He’s my best friend, and his mom is practically another one to me, and they both deserve better than to be the targets of an insecure, self-absorbed-”
He cuts himself off before he can say something he won’t be able to take back, and Joelle glares up at him through tear-soaked eyes.
“And how am I supposed to act? You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, but you only want to keep me around so you have someone to get off with! Do you even like me, Jimmy?”
There’s a small knot of guilt in his gut, but when she reaches for his hand he can’t stop himself from jerking away from her touch. “Not anymore,” he says roughly, and turns away.
“Where are you going?” she demands.
“To see if Spock’s okay, where do you think?”
“Don’t you dare.” He shrugs off the hand that grabs his arm, and her voice goes shrill. “Jim Kirk, if you walk away from me don’t think for a second that I’ll take you back when you come crawling!”
He sends one last disgusted glare over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on that. We’re done.”
Jim’s practically running by the time he makes it past the reach of the firelight, and he strains his eyes in the darkness trying to catch a glimpse of his friend. He can’t do much except keep going and hope that Spock hasn’t decided to turn at any point; he’s half-worried that Spock might somehow get turned around and end up walking straight off the quarry’s edge. It’s a stupid thought, but it helps to explain why his heart is pounding more than it should be from his near-jog. In the end, though, Jim hears Spock before he sees him, quick crunching footsteps ahead that sound like they’re going in a circle.
“Spock?” he calls out quietly, and the footsteps stop.
Jim sees him then as his eyes finally manage to adjust to the darkness. The sky is overcast, and the lights of the city and shipyard reflect back brighter than the stars ever do. Still, Spock is little more than a silhouette, tall and black and so dangerous that Jim can almost taste it in the air.
“I hope that you will understand,” Spock voice says, drifting out of the dark with a growl that sends shivers down Jim’s spine, “when I tell you that I do not care to spend any further time with your girlfriend.”
“I’m so sorry, Spock. I don’t . . . if I’d thought she’d ever say anything like that I never would’ve . . . she’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he says lamely. There’s a tension in the air; it feels like something is ready to snap, and he takes a cautious step closer. “You, ah . . . I thought for a minute that you were gonna . . .”
“Strike her?” Spock’s weight shifts; Jim can hear the crunch of gravel as his feet move. “I have spent the past eight years attempting to control my emotions rather than merely suppressing them, so that I might prevent further violent outbursts.” He pauses. “It was, however, as you might say, a close call.”
“I’m sorry,” Jim says miserably. “We can go back home, okay?”
There’s silence for a long, tense moment. “Did you terminate your relationship with her because of what she said to me?” Spock asks at last.
“Of course I did! Spock, you’re my best friend, and if anyone has a problem with you then I don’t wanna be around them. I should’ve done it days ago; I let it go on way, way too long. I’m so sorry.”
“Cease apologizing,” Spock says quietly. He takes a step forward and Jim can see his face now, though his expression remains infuriatingly unreadable. “I would not . . . I do not wish for you to forgo something that makes you happy simply for my sake.”
Jim can’t help but snort at that. “You’re kidding, right? She doesn’t make me happy; she’s a witch. I mean . . .” That sneaky knot of guilt is back in his stomach. “She wasn’t always. I thought she was nice, at first. And then . . .” He thinks of her hands, and her mouth, and he’s glad that the night is still dark enough to hide his blush. “I wanted to break up with her ages ago; before you got here, even,” he admits. “Before she started getting nasty like this.”
“Why?” Spock asks, and Jim shrugs.
“Because she wasn’t . . .” Wasn’t you, Jim thinks, but he can’t say it, doesn’t have the right to.
“James, I . . .”
The world seems to spin around them as large, strong hands suddenly grasp his head, holding him firmly still, and Jim only has a moment to feel his heart race at the sensation before hot lips close over his.
Spock’s mouth is like a brand on his, all heat and demanding possession. Fingertips press just shy of too hard against Jim’s skull while Spock’s thumbs brush almost tenderly against the sides of his face, teasingly close to something Jim can’t quite define, and he finds himself leaning forward, kissing back eagerly as his own hands lift to close over Spock’s. The soft noise that Spock breathes against Jim’s lips then is easily the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.
Spock is willing to let him take the lead, adjusting to match what Jim is doing with his lips and teeth and the very tip of his tongue. He seems like he hasn’t had very much practice doing this sort of thing, but he’s clearly eager to learn, and with a giddy rush Jim realizes that Spock probably hasn’t actually kissed anyone else before. Suddenly Jim has to get closer, to feel more of Spock, and he steps into his space even as his mind surges out, scattering his shields like playing cards and all but crashing into Spock’s. Spock shudders hard and gasps, gasps again when Jim’s tongue sneaks out to brush lightly against his.
“James,” he breathes, and it sounds like a moan. But then he’s stepping back, away, pulling sharply out of Jim’s grasp. Jim’s eyes follow him, wide and confused as Spock moves out of arm’s reach.
“Spock? What-”
“I apologize,” he says hoarsely. “I had not intended to . . . I should not have . . .”
“Shouldn’t have . . . kissed me?” Jim can still feel the heat of Spock’s lips; he’s nearly dizzy with it. “Why not? You want me, I know you do. I can feel it,” he says, still reeling from the sudden surge of desire streaming into the back of his head. “And I want you.”
It’s a ridiculous understatement; what he feels goes so, so much deeper than want. But he knows that if he can feel Spock, then Spock can feel him, and he trusts him to understand. He takes a careful step closer, relieved when Spock doesn’t move away again.
“Nothing has changed.” Heat is pouring off of Spock, warming the air between them and drawing Jim in like a moth to flame. “I will still be on Vulcan for the next two years; we will still be apart. And I am still . . .” He falters when Jim reaches out to take his hands again, his breath coming harder. “It is not fair of me to-”
Jim cuts him off by leaning up to catch Spock’s lips with his again, his heart soaring when Spock’s fingers tighten around his. He steps up until they’re practically pressed together, losing himself in the warm, spicy taste of his friend’s mouth and the mix of need and delight pouring into his head.
“I don’t care,” he says eventually, speaking against Spock’s lips rather than pulling away. “I don’t care if I have to wait. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else; I don’t want to feel like this about anyone else.”
“You tempt me, James.” Spock leans in to press their foreheads together, and his hands release Jim’s so that his arms can slide around his waist. “Quite terribly.”
“I want you,” Jim says again. “And you know I usually get what I want.” He nips lightly at Spock’s lower lip, grinning when he’s rewarded by the low, faint growl that vibrates against his chest. “So you should just give in now and save yourself some trouble.”
“I somehow doubt that being with you will result in less trouble,” Spock says dryly, and Jim laughs.
“You know you love it.”
“Yes, James.” Spock pulls him closer, as happy as Jim has ever felt him when their lips meet again. “I do.”
>>Part 16
Author: ladyblahblah
Beta: ninjaboots
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot . . . ish
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title is from a William Carlos William poem. I can't even take full credit for the idea, and all of the adorable can be traced directly to momo_girlie and her painfully cute drawings. *fangirl flail*
Summary: Vague A/U. What would have happened if Kirk and Spock had known each other as children? Yes, another one of those.
Author's Note: All right, guys, don't say I never did anything for you. ^_~
Part 1│Part 2│Part 3│Part 4│Part 5│Part 6│Part 7│Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
“Altair,” Jim snaps, shoving at the heavy head nudging his shoulder. “Quit it. I told you, I don’t have any treats today.”
The horse ignores the admonishment, still staring hopefully after him, like an overgrown puppy, as Jim heads into the stables. Jim grits his teeth. It’s not her fault; normally he has an apple or a handful of carrots for her, and he’s happily stood and brushed her coat until it shone. She’s used to the attention, he knows. But today Jim is in a mood, and all he wants is hard, punishing work, the kind that makes his muscles ache all day afterwards.
His argument with Jo last night had been awful. Everything had been fine until he’d said he had to go; in retrospect, he probably should have known better than to mention Spock at all, let alone tell her he had to leave because he felt bad about leaving his friend alone for so long. Jim can still see the way Jo’s eyes had narrowed, hear the bite in her voice.
“Fine, go. You got what you came over for, right? Go back to your little Vulcan blow-up doll; you care more about him than you do about me, anyway.”
Things had gotten really nasty after that. Jo had only gotten angrier when he hadn’t denied the accusation, but how could he? It was true and they both knew it, though Jim had at least had the sense not to say that. Meanwhile, he had been furious about the way she had talked about his friend, and telling her so had been like throwing water on a grease fire. They had snapped and snarled at each other until Jim was ready to just break up and be done with the whole thing. That suggestion had had Jo apologizing with tears in her eyes, begging him not to go. She’d always been very persuasive when she wanted to be, and after another twenty minutes of tearful apologies, promises to try her best to get along with Spock, and an I’m-sorry handjob, Jim had left somewhat dazed and somehow still in possession of a girlfriend.
It’s been the same pattern for weeks now, Jim thinks morosely as he shovels out Tornado’s stall. It seems like they spend all their time arguing, and making up, and arguing again. Most of the time he doesn’t even know why they’re still dating. But every time it seems like things are getting close to ending, they . . . don’t. Jim always finds himself agreeing to give their relationship another chance, despite the fact that all he really wants is for things to be over.
He knows that he probably ought to just break up with her. He’s tried, sort of, but he doesn’t really know how to do it. Things with Tama and Seth and Regan just kind of ended on their own, petering out naturally after a few weeks. Jim has never actually ended anything before, never been the one to put a stop to a relationship, and he’s not really sure he knows how. Even with Spock-
Jim feels his heart give a moronic little leap, and scowls. Can’t he even think his friend’s name without turning into a complete mess? It’s not like that with them anymore, he reminds himself. Spock is too logical to want to play at being boyfriends when they’re apart most of the time; and besides, Jim’s seeing Jo now so it doesn’t even matter, anyway.
It would be easier, he knows, if Spock hadn’t shown up all tall and hot and gorgeous and sexy. Jim leans on his shovel, taking a break as he remembers the week before.
He’d been so excited to have his friend back that it had taken him until he was halfway to the ‘car to realize that something was different. Spock was still Spock, still pale and serious-looking with that same goofy haircut he’d had since the first time they met. Only it didn’t seem quite so goofy on him now; not when Jim was busy taking in the new breadth of his chest and shoulders, and the several extra inches of height that made him suddenly taller than Jim for the first time in nine years. His jaw had grown firmer and squarer as well. This was no longer the baby-faced boy who had snuck kisses with him in a darkened theater, but someone almost entirely new, gorgeous and alien and completely untouchable.
Quite literally untouchable, Jim had realized quickly, unless he wanted Spock to know all the ridiculous, inappropriately filthy things that had jumped into Jim’s head the moment he saw him. So Jim has been keeping his distance, which is a new and unexpected sort of torture. He’s used to touching Spock, to playful shoves and slaps on the shoulder and resting his weight against him when they’re sitting next to each other. Used to holding his hand, even back before it meant anything. He hadn’t realized just how often they used to touch until he discovered how many times a day he has to hold himself back. Jim feels as though his body is in constant orbit around Spock’s, as though Jim’s awareness of him goes down to his very bones, pulling at him like a strange new gravity.
Jim shakes himself and goes back to work. He pushes himself harder, using the burn in his muscles to edge out the thoughts that keep crowding his brain. He can’t keep thinking like this; it’s not fair to anyone, not to him or to Spock or to Joelle. So Jim works until his shoulders are screaming and sweat is pouring off of him in rivers. He’s filthy and exhausted and just about finished by the time Mrs. Torney comes out and tosses a bottle of water at him without waiting to see if he’s paying attention. Jim catches it, barely, and guzzles down almost the whole thing while she looks around, nodding, hands on her hips.
“Well, you’re a hard worker, Jimmy, no one can argue that. I had some reservations about hiring someone so young, I won’t lie to you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jim swipes at the sweat that’s trickling into his eyes. “You’ve told me so about a dozen times.”
“You watch your mouth, young man,” she says sharply, her eyes narrowing to slits in her heavily-lined face. “I’m old enough to be your mama’s mama; you talk to me with respect.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jim mumbles. “Sorry.”
She regards him suspiciously for another moment before breaking into a smile. “You’ve got some fire in you; don’t like anyone telling you that you can’t do something. You remind me of your daddy that way.” Jim’s stomach clenches slightly, in discomfort or pleasure he can’t quite say. Mrs. Torney’s sharp brown eyes fix hard on him. “A sense of independence isn’t a bad thing, son. But you’ll wanna be sure yours doesn’t land you in trouble with someone who can and will kick your scrawny ass, you hear?”
Jim’s lips twitch into a smile at that. It’s the first time he’s smiled all day; it feels good.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says again, and only in part because he knows full well that she probably can kick his ass if she wants to.
“Good,” she nods sharply, and looks around one more time. “You’re finished. Get on home.”
As easily as that she seems to dismiss him from her mind, striding forward to where both of the horses are standing at the fence waiting for her. Jim’s learned better than to take it personally; there’s nothing on two legs that Mrs. Torney cares for as much as her horses, Mr. Torney had joked with him once, and Jim learned quickly enough that it was true at least as far as teenaged hired hands were concerned.
It’s not too far to bike back home, really, but unless he wants to be completely unable to move by the time he gets back, it’s better to drive, and he’s already daydreaming about a hot shower as he starts up his speeder. His stomach twists nervously, however, at the thought of home. He never exactly comes back from work smelling like a basket of roses, but he pushed himself harder than usual today and the smell of the horses is a breath of fresh air compared to the way he stinks now. Not that he ever really worried about it before Spock got here, but Jim tells himself that he just doesn’t want to offend Spock: Vulcans have a more developed sense of smell than Humans do, after all, and he doesn’t want his friend keeling over from the scent of him.
He actually almost believes it.
It turns out not to matter, though, because the rented ‘car is missing from the front drive when Jim gets back to the house. Spock’s still gone, then. That’s fine. This way Jim will have a chance to shower and take care of that whole smelling-like-a-biohazard problem before he accidentally kills his friend with his stench. This is better, really, than having Spock beat him home.
Yeah. Definitely better.
Frank comes out of the house laden down with bags as Jim is parking his speeder. He has to set them on the ground to get the trunk of his ‘car open, and Jim hesitates for a moment. In the end, though, rolling his eyes at himself, he hops down and goes over to haul one of the bags inside.
“Thanks,” Frank says, surprised and a little short of breath. “You’re back early.”
“Finished quicker than usual.” Jim stands awkwardly for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Need any more help?”
“I . . .” Frank looks like he’s not quite sure what to say, and Jim tenses. “No,” he finishes eventually, a tired smile crossing his face. “You seem pretty worn-out. I can get the rest of it.”
“Okay.” Jim hesitates for just a moment. Then he snaps out of whatever was holding him in place and heads inside without a backwards glance, unwilling to investigate the slight tightness in his chest.
He gathers up fresh clothes from his room before he heads to the bathroom, just in case Spock is already back by the time he gets out of the shower. It’s difficult enough sharing a room with someone he can’t stop thinking of in increasingly inappropriate ways. If Spock has noticed Jim’s tendency to wake . . . enthusiastic in the morning, he’s been considerate enough not to mention it. That kind of thing, unfortunately, is quite a bit more difficult to conceal when all you’re wearing is a towel, and Jim had realized right away that standing mostly naked in a bedroom with his unfairly sexy best friend was something he should probably avoid at all costs.
Spock, of course, never forgets to take a clean set of robes to the shower with him, so at least Jim hasn’t had to deal with seeing him wet and barely clothed.
He tries really hard to remember that that’s a good thing.
The water feels almost obscenely good when he steps into the shower. He tilts his head back, letting the hot spray rinse away the sweat and salt and dust and dirt, and for just a moment, everything falls away. Jo, Spock, Frank; all the little irritations and frustrations that have been eating at him seem to slip from his skin as the hot water works at his sore muscles.
Jim relishes the feeling. He’s been cold lately; not physically, but mentally somehow, and he suspects he knows why. He remembers standing in front of the house, staring up at Spock and thinking frantically that he had to keep his thoughts to himself, to keep Spock from finding out how very much Jim was wishing at that moment that he was still free to greet him with a warm, lingering kiss. Jim hadn’t know which prospect had frightened him more: Spock’s discomfort, or his pity.
He isn’t sure how he managed to shield their link, only that at some point in his panicked mental flailing he’d realized that Spock’s mind seemed somehow farther away, or . . . fuzzy somehow, like there was something not quite solid hovering in between them. It’s simultaneously a relief and a disappointment. The thought of Spock discovering the direction Jim’s mind has been wandering for the past two weeks is terrifying, but it doesn’t feel right to be cut off from him like this. It’s another type of distance he’s having to get used to, and he doesn’t like it. Still, he reminds himself, it’s better than the alternative.
At least, Jim thinks as he works a thick lather into his hair, he hasn’t had any of his nightmares since Spock arrived. He’s not sure just how much access his friend might have to his mind when he’s dreaming, but he’d just as soon not take the risk. Not that he wouldn’t if he had to; just the thought of trying to get through one of those things without Spock is enough to make his stomach crawl.
Even now, nearly six months after his last one, Jim is still afraid to go to sleep sometimes, afraid of what might be waiting for him there. Most of the time, though, he allows himself to believe that they’re really gone. He needs them to be; he doesn’t ever want to go back there, not even if it’s all just in his head.
When he’s clean and as relaxed as he’s going to get, Jim shuts off the water and steps out of the shower to towel himself off, glancing in the mirror as he does so. He tries to take a critical look at what he sees. His skin on his face and arms is getting darker, though he’s developing a bit of a farmer’s tan from wearing a t-shirt while he works. The sun has begun to tease out bits of blonde in his hair, as well. On the whole, his impression of himself is one that’s warm and solid and unmistakably Human.
He thinks of Spock, of pale skin and a long, lanky frame. Are all Vulcans like that, Jim wonders? Is that what Spock wants? Tall, dark, logical and aloof? Everything that Jim will probably never be?
It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, and turns sharply from the mirror to pull his clothes on over skin still sticky with dampness.
Spock still isn’t back when Jim goes back to his room to drop his dirty clothes in the hamper. The house is quiet when he goes downstairs, as well. Glancing out the front window he sees that the adults are all outside, gathered around Frank’s ‘car. Jim dawdles a bit-goes back upstairs to get a book from his room, grabs a glass of iced tea from the kitchen-before he finally steps out onto the front porch.
“Jimmy.” His mom shades her eyes with the flat of her hand as she peers up at him. “Just in time. Frank’s just about to leave.”
“I didn’t want to take off without saying goodbye,” Frank offers.
Jim nods, feeling frozen in place. He can’t seem to make his feet work; he can’t even decide if he wants them to.
“Cool,” he finally manages to say, and shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “Um. Have a good trip.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Frank smiles. “I’ll try.” He turns back to Jim’s mom, and Jim turns away when he pulls her into a hug. “I’ll comm you before we break orbit. Probably around ten o’clock here.”
“I’ll be here.” They separate, and Jim’s mom presses a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Frank gives Spock’s mom a quick hug. “It was good to see you again, Amanda.”
“Take care, Frank,” she says, and Jim is only a little bit ashamed of the vindication he feels when she doesn’t quite return the sentiment.
Finally the ‘car is loaded and the final goodbyes are said, and Frank is gone. Jim’s mom watches until the last of the dust has faded from the air. Then she turns, scrubbing her hands over her face, and smiles faintly at Jim.
“Well. What are your plans for the rest of the day, Jim?”
He shrugs. “Hang around here until Spock gets back, I guess. And there’s that party tonight.”
“Right, this party.” Spock’s mom looks vaguely worried. “Jim, are you sure-”
“I asked Spock about it, and he said it’s cool if we go,” he reminds her. “And I already promised him we’d leave if he gets uncomfortable or bored or anything.” He frowns slightly. “Though Ainsley’s gonna be there, so I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
They both look like they’re biting back smiles at that, and Jim scowls in return until Spock’s mom manages to compose her expression.
“And there will be adult supervision there?”
“Yeah,” Jim lies easily. “Danny’s parents are gonna be home.”
“All right, then,” Spock’s mom says, exchanging satisfied glances with her friend. “Winona, did you still want to go to town today?”
“I’m up for it if you are.” She turns to Jim, eyeing him hesitantly. “Amanda and I were planning to do some shopping and maybe catch a movie. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
“I’m fourteen, Mom,” Jim says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“You can come with us if you want.”
Jim stares back at her, mildly horrified. “That’s okay. I’ll stay here and just . . . wait for Spock to get back.”
“All right.” She starts to head into the house, but hesitates when she reaches the top step. “If you change your mind-”
“Oh my god, Mom, just go.”
“We’ll both have our communicators on us,” Spock’s mom says with a grin. “Call us before you leave for the party.”
“Okay, we will, have fun!”
Laughing, both women dart inside and emerge a moment later with their bags. Jim settles himself on the porch’s padded wooden swing and waves reluctantly when they drive off. Moms are so embarrassing, he thinks to himself, unwilling to admit to the little flare of warmth that’s lodged itself beneath his breastbone. Instead he puts his feet up on the railing and opens his book, ready for a distraction.
He can’t seem to focus on Basil Hallward and Lord Henry at the moment, however. Every sudden sound has him looking up, expecting to see the rented ‘car coming up the road. Jim wonders dimly, as he tries to go back to his book, if this is how Spock feels when Jim goes off to spend time with Joelle. Probably not; Spock has plenty to do to keep himself busy, after all. The mere thought of him sitting around, pining for his missing friend, is ridiculous. In fact-
Jim is distracted from his litany of self-recrimination by the sound he’s been waiting for, and glances up to see the shiny ‘car settling gracefully in front of the house. He lowers his eyes quickly back to his book and tries to will away the sense of eager anticipation that’s thrumming through his veins. No need to broadcast the fact that he feels like a stupid little kid with his first crush again. Jim doesn’t look up again until he hears Spock step onto the porch, and mentally congratulates himself on keeping his cool as he closes his book with an easy grin.
“Hey.” He stretches his arms above his head, groaning a little at the pleasant burn in his muscles. “How’d it go?”
“Ainsley is, in fact, an accomplished Kadis-kot player. Her logic is quite impressive for . . .”
Jim looks up at him, curious. “A girl?”
“A Human,” Spock corrects archly, and Jim has to laugh. “Kathryn competed well; Brian, however, seemed more inclined to hinder our efforts whenever possible than to attempt to win himself.”
“Yeah, but don’t think that’s a strategy or anything,” Jim grins. “He just sucks at the game.”
Spock’s eyebrows lift in mild surprise. “You have played with him before?”
“Yeah. Five of us used to get together every week. But then Kara moved, and the rest of us got busy, so . . .” He shrugs.
“I see.” Spock looks almost troubled, and for a moment Jim is sorely tempted to try to lower the shields he’s put up so that he can get a hint at what Spock’s thinking. The moment passes, however, and Spock is simply regarding him thoughtfully. “I was unaware that you played. We might have easily scheduled our game for a time when you could join us.”
Jim smiles, enjoying the warm glow that’s spreading through him. “Nah,” he says, “it’s cool. I mean, it’s an okay game, but I’d actually take a good chess match over Kadis-kot any day.”
“In all honesty, I feel the same way,” Spock admits.
“Yeah?” Jim hesitates for just a moment. “You know, I have that new tri-dimensional set that I got for Christmas. I’ve hardly had a chance to use it, and we’ve still got a while before the party. Maybe if you don’t have too much studying to do, we can play for a while.”
Spock hesitates, and Jim braces himself for a polite, logical rejection. But then Spock’s lips are curving up in one of his almost-smiles, the kind that only Jim ever gets to see, and he feels so light that he has to stop himself from checking that he hasn’t floated right off the ground.
“I do not believe that my studies would suffer unduly if I were to take a break from them today.”
“Great,” Jim beams happily. “Okay. Wanna play out here?”
“That is acceptable.”
“Cool. I’ll go get the board.”
Spock gets them fresh drinks while Jim runs upstairs, and before long they’re sitting on the porch’s weathered floorboards with the game between them. A warm breeze sends the scent of fresh-mown fields washing over them, and every now and then Jim can hear Argus’s full-throated bark off in the distance. It’s incredibly relaxing to sit there with Spock, even though Jim’s stomach gives a funny little jolt every time he looks at Spock staring intensely at the chessboard. It feels so simple, so good to just chill out together like this, that Jim is surprised to realize that the sky is growing dark.
“Shit,” he says, “what time is it?”
“Eight thirty-seven,” Spock answers promptly, “and fifty-”
“Don’t really need the seconds, Spock.” Jim scrambles to his feet. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”
“I was under the impression that one did not adhere to a specific schedule for this type of event,” Spock says, gathering up the board and pieces and following Jim into the house.
“Well, not exactly. But I said we’d meet Jo there at nine. I’ve just gotta fix my hair and get changed.”
“I see.” They head upstairs and Jim goes straight for the bathroom to try to coax his hair into suitable shape. Spock appears at the doorway a moment later, hands clasped behind his back as he watches Jim use a dollop of gel to get that messy-on-purpose look that Jo likes so much. “It is unlikely that we will be able to make it into town in just twenty minutes,” Spock says, and Jim snorts.
“Good thing we’re not going all the way to town, then.”
Spock’s brow furrows just the slightest bit. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re not going to the party in town,” Jim explains calmly, running his hands through his hair one last time before stepping back for a critical look. “That’s just a decoy. The real party’s out at the quarry; should take five minutes to get there, ten tops.”
“James,” Spock begins, and Jim turns to clap a reassuring hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid any direct skin-to-skin contact.
“Trust me, Spock, this is gonna be way more fun. Don’t worry.”
“Vulcans do not worry,” Spock reminds him, stepping aside to let Jim hurry past. “However,” he adds as Jim dashes into his bedroom in search of a new shirt, “every time you tell me not to, I am tempted to start.”
Jim laughs loudly at that. “We’ll have fun,” he insists. “If we don’t, I promise we can come back here and watch a vid or play another game of chess or whatever you want, okay?”
The look Spock fixes him with is unreadable. Eventually, though, he inclines his head, and at his murmured, “Very well,” Jim goes back to hunting for his favorite shirt. He finds it at last and changes as quickly as possible, keeping his back to Spock so that he can pretend he’s neither embarrassed nor turned on at the idea of stripping down in front of his friend. A quick glance in the the mirror on the back of his closet door, another quick fluff of his hair, and he’s ready to go.
“All set,” he says, and turns to find Spock regarding him thoughtfully once again. “What’s up?”
“Should I alter my hair and clothing, as well?” Spock asks, almost hesitantly.
The idea of Spock with flyaway hair is-oh, well, surprisingly hot, actually. Jim takes a moment to look him over, though, from the top of his head down to the tips of his shoes just barely visible beneath his long robes.
“No,” he says at last, and flushes, clearing his throat to get rid of the slightly breathless quality his voice has developed. “You look. Ah. You look fine.” He nods decisively and starts forward before pausing again. “You might want to bring a sweater, though; we’re gonna be outside, and you know how easily you get cold.”
They take the speeder, and Spock declares himself fascinated by the way the gel Jim has in his hair keeps the wind from doing too much damage. Like he’s one to talk, Jim thinks to himself-when they climb down Spock’s hair settles into place as smoothly as ever. It takes a concentrated effort of will to keep from reaching out and ruffling it into temporary disorder the way he used to do, but Jim manages it.
There are already a couple dozen people there, set up a few hundred feet back from the edge of the quarry. Someone’s ‘car is pumping some sort of raw, thumping music into the air, and people are scattered in groups around the impromptu fire pit that someone’s dug. Jim can smell hot dogs cooking, and the hot sweet scent of burning marshmallows.
“Jimmy! There you are!” Jim berates himself for the way his stomach clenches when Jo comes running up, and makes up for it by holding on tight when she flings her arms around him. “Hey, baby,” she purrs, and tugs him down for a kiss.
Her lips taste like cherry and the faint burn of alcohol. Jim pulls back before he gets more than that first quick taste, incredibly conscious of Spock standing stiffly at his side.
“Started without me, I guess,” he teases lightly, dropping his arms and stepping back until Jo does the same. “Who’s holding?”
“Jordan’s older sister hooked us up; I bet if you asked real nice you could get a beer.”
“I’m okay for now. Spock, you want anything?”
“You are referring to alcoholic beverages?”
“Yeah, he’s referring alcoholic beverages,” Jo says snidely. “This is a party; Jimmy has explained parties to you, hasn’t he?”
“Jo!” Jim frowns and takes another step back. “What the hell?”
“I am familiar with the concept,” Spock says calmly. “However, as Vulcans metabolize alcohol quite differently than Humans, I will abstain. James, if you will excuse me, I believe I will go say hello to Ainsley and Kathryn.”
He walks off, icy dignity draped around him like a cloak, and Jim turns back to glare at his girlfriend.
“Sorry,” she winces. “You know I turn into a bitch when I drink too much.”
Only then? Jim thinks, but bites back the words before they can make it out of his mouth.
“In that case I’m cutting you off,” he says instead, and though Jo pouts she doesn’t argue as she takes his hand and leads him towards the fire.
Most of Jim’s friends are there, and he tries to relax and have fun as he talks with them. His eyes keep seeking out Spock, though, watching him talk with Katie while Brian hovers nearby. It looks like Spock is enjoying himself, which is good. He certainly doesn’t look like he needs rescuing; in fact, he’s hardly glanced Jim’s way since they arrived. That’s also probably good, because Jim can feel his expression falling every time takes a step and Jo immediately follows to plaster herself against him again. Finally, though, Brian steps in and whispers something in Katie’s ear that has her giggling and waving as they stumble away, and Spock makes his way over to the fire at last.
“Hey, man.” Jim considers trying to move away from Jo again, but figures it probably won’t be any more effective the sixth time around than it was the previous five. “Having fun?”
“I thought Vulcans didn’t ‘have fun’,” Jo says innocently, and her sister laughs a little too loudly.
“Maybe that’s just because they don’t have the right incentive.” Padisa smirks around the mouth of her bottle. “I bet if he was getting some he’d loosen up a little. HEY!” she calls out. “Who wants to make a man out of the Vulcan?”
“Cut it out,” Jim says with a frown, his stomach knotting a little at the stiffness in Spock’s shoulders.
“Too bad no Human in their right mind would want to get seriously involved with anything that bland and boring.” Jo’s eyes are burning into Spock’s, and Jim wonders how she can possible miss the fact that Spock’s are burning right back.
“I’m afraid your logic is unsound,” Spock says quietly. “As a matter of fact, my mother is Human, yet she chose to marry my father.”
“Well, your dad’s like, an ambassador, right? You guys must be totally loaded to afford a trip to Earth every year.” Jo smirks, looking Spock dismissively up and down. “So I’m sure she got something out of it.”
For several long seconds Jim feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe as he watches the heat in Spock’s eyes blaze into an inferno. Spock looks as though he’s barely holding back the urge to beat Joelle bloody; his hands have curled into fists, and in the firelight he seems toweringly tall and terrifying in his fury. Then abruptly he turns and strides quickly away, and everyone within earshot seems to finally let out a collective breath.
“What . . . the hell . . . is wrong with you?” Jim grinds out, tearing himself away from Joelle. He’s staring down at her, and it feels like he’s never truly seen her before. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”
“It was just a joke, Jim,” Padisa complains, but a single furious look from him has her eyes widening, and she takes a step back.
“Jimmy, I didn’t mean-”
“No, you never mean the shit you say, do you?” Jim bites out. “But you keep saying it anyway. You’ve been trying to tear Spock down since you met him, and I can’t believe I let you get away with it for this long. He’s my best friend, and his mom is practically another one to me, and they both deserve better than to be the targets of an insecure, self-absorbed-”
He cuts himself off before he can say something he won’t be able to take back, and Joelle glares up at him through tear-soaked eyes.
“And how am I supposed to act? You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, but you only want to keep me around so you have someone to get off with! Do you even like me, Jimmy?”
There’s a small knot of guilt in his gut, but when she reaches for his hand he can’t stop himself from jerking away from her touch. “Not anymore,” he says roughly, and turns away.
“Where are you going?” she demands.
“To see if Spock’s okay, where do you think?”
“Don’t you dare.” He shrugs off the hand that grabs his arm, and her voice goes shrill. “Jim Kirk, if you walk away from me don’t think for a second that I’ll take you back when you come crawling!”
He sends one last disgusted glare over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on that. We’re done.”
Jim’s practically running by the time he makes it past the reach of the firelight, and he strains his eyes in the darkness trying to catch a glimpse of his friend. He can’t do much except keep going and hope that Spock hasn’t decided to turn at any point; he’s half-worried that Spock might somehow get turned around and end up walking straight off the quarry’s edge. It’s a stupid thought, but it helps to explain why his heart is pounding more than it should be from his near-jog. In the end, though, Jim hears Spock before he sees him, quick crunching footsteps ahead that sound like they’re going in a circle.
“Spock?” he calls out quietly, and the footsteps stop.
Jim sees him then as his eyes finally manage to adjust to the darkness. The sky is overcast, and the lights of the city and shipyard reflect back brighter than the stars ever do. Still, Spock is little more than a silhouette, tall and black and so dangerous that Jim can almost taste it in the air.
“I hope that you will understand,” Spock voice says, drifting out of the dark with a growl that sends shivers down Jim’s spine, “when I tell you that I do not care to spend any further time with your girlfriend.”
“I’m so sorry, Spock. I don’t . . . if I’d thought she’d ever say anything like that I never would’ve . . . she’s not my girlfriend anymore,” he says lamely. There’s a tension in the air; it feels like something is ready to snap, and he takes a cautious step closer. “You, ah . . . I thought for a minute that you were gonna . . .”
“Strike her?” Spock’s weight shifts; Jim can hear the crunch of gravel as his feet move. “I have spent the past eight years attempting to control my emotions rather than merely suppressing them, so that I might prevent further violent outbursts.” He pauses. “It was, however, as you might say, a close call.”
“I’m sorry,” Jim says miserably. “We can go back home, okay?”
There’s silence for a long, tense moment. “Did you terminate your relationship with her because of what she said to me?” Spock asks at last.
“Of course I did! Spock, you’re my best friend, and if anyone has a problem with you then I don’t wanna be around them. I should’ve done it days ago; I let it go on way, way too long. I’m so sorry.”
“Cease apologizing,” Spock says quietly. He takes a step forward and Jim can see his face now, though his expression remains infuriatingly unreadable. “I would not . . . I do not wish for you to forgo something that makes you happy simply for my sake.”
Jim can’t help but snort at that. “You’re kidding, right? She doesn’t make me happy; she’s a witch. I mean . . .” That sneaky knot of guilt is back in his stomach. “She wasn’t always. I thought she was nice, at first. And then . . .” He thinks of her hands, and her mouth, and he’s glad that the night is still dark enough to hide his blush. “I wanted to break up with her ages ago; before you got here, even,” he admits. “Before she started getting nasty like this.”
“Why?” Spock asks, and Jim shrugs.
“Because she wasn’t . . .” Wasn’t you, Jim thinks, but he can’t say it, doesn’t have the right to.
“James, I . . .”
The world seems to spin around them as large, strong hands suddenly grasp his head, holding him firmly still, and Jim only has a moment to feel his heart race at the sensation before hot lips close over his.
Spock’s mouth is like a brand on his, all heat and demanding possession. Fingertips press just shy of too hard against Jim’s skull while Spock’s thumbs brush almost tenderly against the sides of his face, teasingly close to something Jim can’t quite define, and he finds himself leaning forward, kissing back eagerly as his own hands lift to close over Spock’s. The soft noise that Spock breathes against Jim’s lips then is easily the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.
Spock is willing to let him take the lead, adjusting to match what Jim is doing with his lips and teeth and the very tip of his tongue. He seems like he hasn’t had very much practice doing this sort of thing, but he’s clearly eager to learn, and with a giddy rush Jim realizes that Spock probably hasn’t actually kissed anyone else before. Suddenly Jim has to get closer, to feel more of Spock, and he steps into his space even as his mind surges out, scattering his shields like playing cards and all but crashing into Spock’s. Spock shudders hard and gasps, gasps again when Jim’s tongue sneaks out to brush lightly against his.
“James,” he breathes, and it sounds like a moan. But then he’s stepping back, away, pulling sharply out of Jim’s grasp. Jim’s eyes follow him, wide and confused as Spock moves out of arm’s reach.
“Spock? What-”
“I apologize,” he says hoarsely. “I had not intended to . . . I should not have . . .”
“Shouldn’t have . . . kissed me?” Jim can still feel the heat of Spock’s lips; he’s nearly dizzy with it. “Why not? You want me, I know you do. I can feel it,” he says, still reeling from the sudden surge of desire streaming into the back of his head. “And I want you.”
It’s a ridiculous understatement; what he feels goes so, so much deeper than want. But he knows that if he can feel Spock, then Spock can feel him, and he trusts him to understand. He takes a careful step closer, relieved when Spock doesn’t move away again.
“Nothing has changed.” Heat is pouring off of Spock, warming the air between them and drawing Jim in like a moth to flame. “I will still be on Vulcan for the next two years; we will still be apart. And I am still . . .” He falters when Jim reaches out to take his hands again, his breath coming harder. “It is not fair of me to-”
Jim cuts him off by leaning up to catch Spock’s lips with his again, his heart soaring when Spock’s fingers tighten around his. He steps up until they’re practically pressed together, losing himself in the warm, spicy taste of his friend’s mouth and the mix of need and delight pouring into his head.
“I don’t care,” he says eventually, speaking against Spock’s lips rather than pulling away. “I don’t care if I have to wait. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else; I don’t want to feel like this about anyone else.”
“You tempt me, James.” Spock leans in to press their foreheads together, and his hands release Jim’s so that his arms can slide around his waist. “Quite terribly.”
“I want you,” Jim says again. “And you know I usually get what I want.” He nips lightly at Spock’s lower lip, grinning when he’s rewarded by the low, faint growl that vibrates against his chest. “So you should just give in now and save yourself some trouble.”
“I somehow doubt that being with you will result in less trouble,” Spock says dryly, and Jim laughs.
“You know you love it.”
“Yes, James.” Spock pulls him closer, as happy as Jim has ever felt him when their lips meet again. “I do.”
>>Part 16