But Close | STXI | PG-13
Title: But Close
Beta: rainbowstrlght
Series: STXI K/S
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~2,300
Warnings: Mild H/C
Summary: Just because they’re t’hy’la doesn’t mean life is perfect. Kirk and Spock are in a real relationship: bickering, annoyances, and monotony included! Oh, but they’ll get through it -they always do.
A/N: I have a penchant for realistic relationships, so this is just a little diddy I wrote about the most unavoidable issues these Space BAMFs would possibly encounter. It’s not all roses... but it is kinda funny.
Spock’s morning consisted of sprawling naked on the bathroom floor with a very sore rear -and not for a plausible reason. He resisted the urge to grit his teeth as he appraised the state of he and Jim’s shared fresher. The floor was slick with puddles of water -the very reason for Spock’s unfortunate, but not unsurprising slip and fall. A sodden yellow towel lay on the white tiles, and the entire room smelled distinctly of James T Kirk.
Gripping the lip of the sink for leverage, Spock hefted himself up. For a long moment he simply stared at the devastation; and envisioned wrapping his fingers around his lover’s neck.
Spock had granted near unlimited patience for Jim in the first year of their relationship. At this point, he was reaching the end of his tether. He loved the man to illogical reaches, but was it truly so difficult to dry himself off within the shower? Or perhaps, once in a while, take a sonic?
Jim seemed bent on taking aquatic showers every single day, sans the days he simply did not shower. Spock had no idea how Jim did it, but he managed to splash water on every surface of the fresher. It was as if he showered with the door open. That, even for Jim, was highly illogical.
So surely it was not human pettiness that caused Spock to treat his captain with haughty dismissal for the rest of the day.
***
Jim flopped around in bed; one direction, then the next. He clamped a pillow over his face, but still the eerie blue glow reached beneath the darkened cushions and interrupted his futile attempts at sleep. Sleep, sleep - what is sleep?
A year ago, Spock had been content to lay with Jim throughout the night; despite the Vulcan’s considerably shorter sleeping schedule. Now they’d fallen into a pattern: dinner, chess, sex, Jim to bed, and Spock to his computer. The food was decent, the chess was challenging, the sex was mind-blowing - but after that, it all went downhill.
It wasn’t that Jim needed Spock to sleep with him. He was a big boy, he could handle himself. But that goddamn blue glimmer from the monitor drove him fucking nuts.
Spock could play that creepy-ass lyre music at cranked volume, and Jim would still be able to pass out into oblivion. Musky, choking incense? Bring it on. Hell, Spock could do jumping-jacks in the middle of the bedroom, and Jim wouldn’t give a damn. But that fucking blue monitor drove him to utter distraction -and Spock knew it! Dammit, he knew it, and he didn’t give two shits.
Okay, maybe Jim never actually complained about his deep-seeded hatred for the blue light of insomnia - but Spock should know, shouldn’t he? He was a fucking mind-reader, after all. Jim could only assume the Vulcan had enough empathy to feel Jim’s restlessness.
Or not.
And if Jim was short and pissy with Spock the next day due to lack of sleep, well - that certainly wasn’t his own fault.
***
Spock awoke at 02:33am on the unforgiving floor of their quarters. He sat up and blinked blearily into the darkness. Jim was splayed out diagonally, across the entirety of the bed; one foot protruded from the blankets in front of Spock’s face.
With a repressed sigh, Spock stumbled sleepily to his feet and leaned over the bed. It took very little strength to shift Jim’s light human weight to his allotted side of the mattress. Jim groaned his displeasure at being moved in his sleep, but did not wake; he merely turned on his side and curled into a ball at the edge -taking all of the blankets with him.
Spock shivered and grabbed the hem of the duvet. Without a grain of guilt, he yanked the entirety of the comforter on top of him, leaving Jim bare. The human didn’t need the heat as badly as he did; especially when they’d compromised on the room temperature, and it hovered at twenty-nine point four degrees Celsius.
Four point three hours later, Spock awoke; with his leg off the bed, his toes skimming the floor. Spock was literally gripping the edge of the bed to stay on, as Jim sprawled on his stomach; the only thing that kept Spock atop the mattress, was Jim’s arm slung around his waist.
Spock sighed and squeezed Jim’s hand once; before he slid quietly out of bed and headed for the fresher. At least this morning he could have a sonic without the risk of breaking his neck beforehand.
***
Oh, fuck it.
Jim sat up in bed and chucked his pillow across the room - where it thumped squarely upon the side of Spock’s face.
Spock grunted quietly, looking away from the ghostly glow of his monitor to raise a brow at his lover. “Are you experiencing difficulties sleeping?”
Obviously he was having trouble sleeping if he was awake. Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Research.”
Spock turned back to the monitor, and a frown weighted at Jim’s lips.
“That’s it?”
“What is ‘it’?” Spock murmured without returning his attention to Jim.
“Research? Clearly you’re doing fucking research. What kind of research -what is it for?” Jim felt a constriction of annoyance clench his stomach. True, he could simply check what projects Spock was working on through his own PADD at any point and time, but he much preferred human interaction over electronics.
“You would not be interested.”
Jim fisted his hands into the sheets; his jaw twitched.
“You always say that.”
“’Always’ is a rather inaccurate statement, Jim.”
“You think I’m stupid?” Somewhere in the back of Jim’s mind, he understood he was overreacting; but at this point it didn’t matter.
This always happened.
He tried to take an interest in Spock’s extracurricular activities in the labs, and he got shot down -all because of that one time he said Spock’s projects were, on the whole, pretty damn boring. Because they were! But that didn’t mean Jim didn’t understand them. “Because I’m not. In case you forgot, I am the captain, and I did fuck over your precious little academy test way back when.”
Jim leaned back on his hands; his lips curling without humour as he found he’d caught Spock’s attention. Those incredibly human eyes were like granite.
“I am constantly cognisant of your captaincy. I am also aware that your interest in the sciences is limited. I fail to see the logic in further extrapolating my activities, when we both know you would quickly grow bored.”
Jim blinked owlishly. Why did Spock always have to be so rational and logical -and right? That was the kicker; Spock felt he could do no wrong. People thought Jim was the cocky one -and boy, was he ever- but the man who truly felt as if he could out-smart anyone on this entire ship was Spock.
And Jim was so finished with that attitude.
“If I ask about something, I’m interested,” Jim replied flatly, as he scooted out from the bed in his boxers. He searched out a pair of pants and tugged them on. “If I don’t give a shit about something, I don’t waste my time on it. You think I go out of my way to bore myself? I like listening to you -even if the topic might not make me jump for fucking joy. You used to do the same for me.”
Barefoot and bare-chested, Jim padded to the door; it whooshed open, illuminating him in pale light from the corridor. He didn’t turn around.
“Maybe it’s you who’s losing interest.”
In me.
Jim didn’t have the courage for the rest; he hoped it wasn’t true. Deep down he knew it wasn’t, but Jim had been left by others whom he’d loved in the past -it was a scar that still ached under his skin, despite all forms of reassurance.
He left no time for Spock’s reply; Jim rushed into the hall, his heart thudding in his ears like a war drum. Even as the words had struggled from his clenched throat, he’d realised he’d let his emotions grab him in a choke-hold. Not an uncommon occurrence, but totally detrimental to his relationship with a logical being such as Spock.
Then again, Jim tried to make leeway for Spock, so he sure as hell deserved the very same treatment.
By the time Jim reached the observation deck, he’d forgotten what they’d specifically fought about. The past weeks had been filled with monotony and small niggling annoyances that had built up slowly but surely. Even a mind-meld couldn’t simply plough over the rocky terrain of their relationship. Life didn’t work that way, even for those with psychic benefits.
Some things required good old-fashioned effort.
Jim lost track of time, as he slouched back on the bench and stared blindly at the infinite expanse stars; but when he felt a familiar weight sit beside him, his thoughtful expression dissipated.
Jim was the first to speak.
“You’re such an asshole sometimes, that I imagine throwing you out an airlock.”
“I relive strangling you on a daily basis.”
The corner of Jim’s lips quirked, as he slid a side-long glance towards Spock’s profile. “Good. As long as that’s all in the open, now.”
There was a lilt of humour beneath the even cadence of Spock’s low voice. “Indeed.” Spock’s hand lightly blanketed Jim’s between them. His hesitation was palpable. “You are more fascinating to me than anything in this universe, Jim.”
Despite the gentle patter of affection that Jim felt against his consciousness, he couldn’t help but laugh callously. “Right now I am.”
Spock uttered a gruff sound of displeasure at the back of his throat, before he shifted to face Jim. He clasped both of Jim’s hands in his, as Spock’s earnest gaze captured and coddled him. “Always, t’hy’la. Always.”
Jim bit down on his bottom lip and smiled coyly. “Even if I always kick you out of bed?”
The Vulcan appeared to seriously meditate over that. “We do require a larger bed.”
“That wasn’t a definitive answer at all!” Jim retaliated with a grin.
Without a second thought, he swung his leg over Spock’s thighs and sat on his lap. He linked his arms around his neck and slouched forward. “You’re like sleeping with The Human Torch or something. Can we roleplay? You can be Johnny Storm and I’ll be Superman. It’ll be a crossover comic.”
A deep line indented the length of Spock’s brow. “The entirety of your suggestion remains effectively out of my level of comprehension.”
Jim nuzzled the delicate arc of Spock’s ear with his lips; and was pleased when Spock’s hands gripped his bare hips. “That’s okay. It’s good to keep an aura of mystique in the relationship.”
“I shall trust your judgement.” Spock angled his face towards Jim’s neck. His lips tenderly brushed the thin veil of skin beneath Jim’ ear, and a pleasant buzz shivered down his spine.
Jim sighed contentedly as the venom of his anxiety seeped from his body; he nestled his head upon Spock’s warm shoulder. “Okay, so - new bed, check. Office attachment or something - check.”
“Office?” Spock’s broad palm soothed a path along the length of Jim’s back.
“Mmm, yeah. So you can leave me in peace while I’m trying to sleep. I’m this close to throwing a spinning ninja kick into the monitor.”
“I was unaware both of your dislike for my computer, and your newly acquired ninjitsu skills.”
“See -mystique.”
Spock remained quiet for an expanse of time; and Jim found he was content with that. Despite the levity of his words, the conversation in itself was a step forward.
There would always be something in their relationship to fix, to heal - to attend to. Jim was slowly learning to understand that that was the nature of the beast. Nothing could ever be perfect, but with some effort, it could come close.
“And what else?” Jim murmured sleepily against Spock’s neck. He was dimly aware of a skittering pulse beneath that pale column of skin.
“Your showering habits are in need of reformation.”
“Eh?” Jim pulled back just enough to cock his head curiously.
Spock met his incredulous stare levelly. “You flood the floor when you shower. I do not know how you achieve this, but it is a fact that - because of your mess - I have slipped and fallen seven times in the past year.”
“Oh.” Jim had never even noticed; but imagining Spock falling on his ass, buck-naked, was enough to have him stifling a laugh. “Poor baby!” he cooed as he leaned forward, and kissed the crease between Spock’s brows.
Jim put on his serious Spock-voice. “I shall endeavour to amend my poor shower conduct.” His unrepentant grin ruined the over-all effect. “And if all else fails, you can let me know, and I’ll kiss your owwies.”
A shade of jade whispered across Spock’s sculpted cheekbones as his dark, expressive eyes widened slightly. “That is hardly necessary.”
“What is necessary is not often fun.” Jim replied with mock stoicism. His fingertips idly toyed with the silky, cropped hair at Spock’s neck. “Like our argument. That wasn’t fun,” Jim shrugged, “But I guess it led us to this point-and you finally enlightened me as to why you’ve had a stick up your ass these past weeks.”
Spock’s eyes narrowed. “I do not -“
Jim snorted a laugh. “Kidding -I’m kidding. I’m just as bad as you, in this case. Maybe even worse, because I’m all illogical and shit.” Jim peered down at the love of his life, a satisfied curve to his lips. “Whatever -it doesn’t matter. We good now?”
“We are good,” Spock assented; as his hand snuck up to warmly cup the nape of Jim’s neck.
“Hmmm, but I’m perfect,” Jim teased, his lashes already descending as he leaned forward.
“For a human.”
Spock’s curved lips met Jim’s - and everything wasn’t perfect, but close.
Beta: rainbowstrlght
Series: STXI K/S
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~2,300
Warnings: Mild H/C
Summary: Just because they’re t’hy’la doesn’t mean life is perfect. Kirk and Spock are in a real relationship: bickering, annoyances, and monotony included! Oh, but they’ll get through it -they always do.
A/N: I have a penchant for realistic relationships, so this is just a little diddy I wrote about the most unavoidable issues these Space BAMFs would possibly encounter. It’s not all roses... but it is kinda funny.
Spock’s morning consisted of sprawling naked on the bathroom floor with a very sore rear -and not for a plausible reason. He resisted the urge to grit his teeth as he appraised the state of he and Jim’s shared fresher. The floor was slick with puddles of water -the very reason for Spock’s unfortunate, but not unsurprising slip and fall. A sodden yellow towel lay on the white tiles, and the entire room smelled distinctly of James T Kirk.
Gripping the lip of the sink for leverage, Spock hefted himself up. For a long moment he simply stared at the devastation; and envisioned wrapping his fingers around his lover’s neck.
Spock had granted near unlimited patience for Jim in the first year of their relationship. At this point, he was reaching the end of his tether. He loved the man to illogical reaches, but was it truly so difficult to dry himself off within the shower? Or perhaps, once in a while, take a sonic?
Jim seemed bent on taking aquatic showers every single day, sans the days he simply did not shower. Spock had no idea how Jim did it, but he managed to splash water on every surface of the fresher. It was as if he showered with the door open. That, even for Jim, was highly illogical.
So surely it was not human pettiness that caused Spock to treat his captain with haughty dismissal for the rest of the day.
***
Jim flopped around in bed; one direction, then the next. He clamped a pillow over his face, but still the eerie blue glow reached beneath the darkened cushions and interrupted his futile attempts at sleep. Sleep, sleep - what is sleep?
A year ago, Spock had been content to lay with Jim throughout the night; despite the Vulcan’s considerably shorter sleeping schedule. Now they’d fallen into a pattern: dinner, chess, sex, Jim to bed, and Spock to his computer. The food was decent, the chess was challenging, the sex was mind-blowing - but after that, it all went downhill.
It wasn’t that Jim needed Spock to sleep with him. He was a big boy, he could handle himself. But that goddamn blue glimmer from the monitor drove him fucking nuts.
Spock could play that creepy-ass lyre music at cranked volume, and Jim would still be able to pass out into oblivion. Musky, choking incense? Bring it on. Hell, Spock could do jumping-jacks in the middle of the bedroom, and Jim wouldn’t give a damn. But that fucking blue monitor drove him to utter distraction -and Spock knew it! Dammit, he knew it, and he didn’t give two shits.
Okay, maybe Jim never actually complained about his deep-seeded hatred for the blue light of insomnia - but Spock should know, shouldn’t he? He was a fucking mind-reader, after all. Jim could only assume the Vulcan had enough empathy to feel Jim’s restlessness.
Or not.
And if Jim was short and pissy with Spock the next day due to lack of sleep, well - that certainly wasn’t his own fault.
***
Spock awoke at 02:33am on the unforgiving floor of their quarters. He sat up and blinked blearily into the darkness. Jim was splayed out diagonally, across the entirety of the bed; one foot protruded from the blankets in front of Spock’s face.
With a repressed sigh, Spock stumbled sleepily to his feet and leaned over the bed. It took very little strength to shift Jim’s light human weight to his allotted side of the mattress. Jim groaned his displeasure at being moved in his sleep, but did not wake; he merely turned on his side and curled into a ball at the edge -taking all of the blankets with him.
Spock shivered and grabbed the hem of the duvet. Without a grain of guilt, he yanked the entirety of the comforter on top of him, leaving Jim bare. The human didn’t need the heat as badly as he did; especially when they’d compromised on the room temperature, and it hovered at twenty-nine point four degrees Celsius.
Four point three hours later, Spock awoke; with his leg off the bed, his toes skimming the floor. Spock was literally gripping the edge of the bed to stay on, as Jim sprawled on his stomach; the only thing that kept Spock atop the mattress, was Jim’s arm slung around his waist.
Spock sighed and squeezed Jim’s hand once; before he slid quietly out of bed and headed for the fresher. At least this morning he could have a sonic without the risk of breaking his neck beforehand.
***
Oh, fuck it.
Jim sat up in bed and chucked his pillow across the room - where it thumped squarely upon the side of Spock’s face.
Spock grunted quietly, looking away from the ghostly glow of his monitor to raise a brow at his lover. “Are you experiencing difficulties sleeping?”
Obviously he was having trouble sleeping if he was awake. Jim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Research.”
Spock turned back to the monitor, and a frown weighted at Jim’s lips.
“That’s it?”
“What is ‘it’?” Spock murmured without returning his attention to Jim.
“Research? Clearly you’re doing fucking research. What kind of research -what is it for?” Jim felt a constriction of annoyance clench his stomach. True, he could simply check what projects Spock was working on through his own PADD at any point and time, but he much preferred human interaction over electronics.
“You would not be interested.”
Jim fisted his hands into the sheets; his jaw twitched.
“You always say that.”
“’Always’ is a rather inaccurate statement, Jim.”
“You think I’m stupid?” Somewhere in the back of Jim’s mind, he understood he was overreacting; but at this point it didn’t matter.
This always happened.
He tried to take an interest in Spock’s extracurricular activities in the labs, and he got shot down -all because of that one time he said Spock’s projects were, on the whole, pretty damn boring. Because they were! But that didn’t mean Jim didn’t understand them. “Because I’m not. In case you forgot, I am the captain, and I did fuck over your precious little academy test way back when.”
Jim leaned back on his hands; his lips curling without humour as he found he’d caught Spock’s attention. Those incredibly human eyes were like granite.
“I am constantly cognisant of your captaincy. I am also aware that your interest in the sciences is limited. I fail to see the logic in further extrapolating my activities, when we both know you would quickly grow bored.”
Jim blinked owlishly. Why did Spock always have to be so rational and logical -and right? That was the kicker; Spock felt he could do no wrong. People thought Jim was the cocky one -and boy, was he ever- but the man who truly felt as if he could out-smart anyone on this entire ship was Spock.
And Jim was so finished with that attitude.
“If I ask about something, I’m interested,” Jim replied flatly, as he scooted out from the bed in his boxers. He searched out a pair of pants and tugged them on. “If I don’t give a shit about something, I don’t waste my time on it. You think I go out of my way to bore myself? I like listening to you -even if the topic might not make me jump for fucking joy. You used to do the same for me.”
Barefoot and bare-chested, Jim padded to the door; it whooshed open, illuminating him in pale light from the corridor. He didn’t turn around.
“Maybe it’s you who’s losing interest.”
In me.
Jim didn’t have the courage for the rest; he hoped it wasn’t true. Deep down he knew it wasn’t, but Jim had been left by others whom he’d loved in the past -it was a scar that still ached under his skin, despite all forms of reassurance.
He left no time for Spock’s reply; Jim rushed into the hall, his heart thudding in his ears like a war drum. Even as the words had struggled from his clenched throat, he’d realised he’d let his emotions grab him in a choke-hold. Not an uncommon occurrence, but totally detrimental to his relationship with a logical being such as Spock.
Then again, Jim tried to make leeway for Spock, so he sure as hell deserved the very same treatment.
By the time Jim reached the observation deck, he’d forgotten what they’d specifically fought about. The past weeks had been filled with monotony and small niggling annoyances that had built up slowly but surely. Even a mind-meld couldn’t simply plough over the rocky terrain of their relationship. Life didn’t work that way, even for those with psychic benefits.
Some things required good old-fashioned effort.
Jim lost track of time, as he slouched back on the bench and stared blindly at the infinite expanse stars; but when he felt a familiar weight sit beside him, his thoughtful expression dissipated.
Jim was the first to speak.
“You’re such an asshole sometimes, that I imagine throwing you out an airlock.”
“I relive strangling you on a daily basis.”
The corner of Jim’s lips quirked, as he slid a side-long glance towards Spock’s profile. “Good. As long as that’s all in the open, now.”
There was a lilt of humour beneath the even cadence of Spock’s low voice. “Indeed.” Spock’s hand lightly blanketed Jim’s between them. His hesitation was palpable. “You are more fascinating to me than anything in this universe, Jim.”
Despite the gentle patter of affection that Jim felt against his consciousness, he couldn’t help but laugh callously. “Right now I am.”
Spock uttered a gruff sound of displeasure at the back of his throat, before he shifted to face Jim. He clasped both of Jim’s hands in his, as Spock’s earnest gaze captured and coddled him. “Always, t’hy’la. Always.”
Jim bit down on his bottom lip and smiled coyly. “Even if I always kick you out of bed?”
The Vulcan appeared to seriously meditate over that. “We do require a larger bed.”
“That wasn’t a definitive answer at all!” Jim retaliated with a grin.
Without a second thought, he swung his leg over Spock’s thighs and sat on his lap. He linked his arms around his neck and slouched forward. “You’re like sleeping with The Human Torch or something. Can we roleplay? You can be Johnny Storm and I’ll be Superman. It’ll be a crossover comic.”
A deep line indented the length of Spock’s brow. “The entirety of your suggestion remains effectively out of my level of comprehension.”
Jim nuzzled the delicate arc of Spock’s ear with his lips; and was pleased when Spock’s hands gripped his bare hips. “That’s okay. It’s good to keep an aura of mystique in the relationship.”
“I shall trust your judgement.” Spock angled his face towards Jim’s neck. His lips tenderly brushed the thin veil of skin beneath Jim’ ear, and a pleasant buzz shivered down his spine.
Jim sighed contentedly as the venom of his anxiety seeped from his body; he nestled his head upon Spock’s warm shoulder. “Okay, so - new bed, check. Office attachment or something - check.”
“Office?” Spock’s broad palm soothed a path along the length of Jim’s back.
“Mmm, yeah. So you can leave me in peace while I’m trying to sleep. I’m this close to throwing a spinning ninja kick into the monitor.”
“I was unaware both of your dislike for my computer, and your newly acquired ninjitsu skills.”
“See -mystique.”
Spock remained quiet for an expanse of time; and Jim found he was content with that. Despite the levity of his words, the conversation in itself was a step forward.
There would always be something in their relationship to fix, to heal - to attend to. Jim was slowly learning to understand that that was the nature of the beast. Nothing could ever be perfect, but with some effort, it could come close.
“And what else?” Jim murmured sleepily against Spock’s neck. He was dimly aware of a skittering pulse beneath that pale column of skin.
“Your showering habits are in need of reformation.”
“Eh?” Jim pulled back just enough to cock his head curiously.
Spock met his incredulous stare levelly. “You flood the floor when you shower. I do not know how you achieve this, but it is a fact that - because of your mess - I have slipped and fallen seven times in the past year.”
“Oh.” Jim had never even noticed; but imagining Spock falling on his ass, buck-naked, was enough to have him stifling a laugh. “Poor baby!” he cooed as he leaned forward, and kissed the crease between Spock’s brows.
Jim put on his serious Spock-voice. “I shall endeavour to amend my poor shower conduct.” His unrepentant grin ruined the over-all effect. “And if all else fails, you can let me know, and I’ll kiss your owwies.”
A shade of jade whispered across Spock’s sculpted cheekbones as his dark, expressive eyes widened slightly. “That is hardly necessary.”
“What is necessary is not often fun.” Jim replied with mock stoicism. His fingertips idly toyed with the silky, cropped hair at Spock’s neck. “Like our argument. That wasn’t fun,” Jim shrugged, “But I guess it led us to this point-and you finally enlightened me as to why you’ve had a stick up your ass these past weeks.”
Spock’s eyes narrowed. “I do not -“
Jim snorted a laugh. “Kidding -I’m kidding. I’m just as bad as you, in this case. Maybe even worse, because I’m all illogical and shit.” Jim peered down at the love of his life, a satisfied curve to his lips. “Whatever -it doesn’t matter. We good now?”
“We are good,” Spock assented; as his hand snuck up to warmly cup the nape of Jim’s neck.
“Hmmm, but I’m perfect,” Jim teased, his lashes already descending as he leaned forward.
“For a human.”
Spock’s curved lips met Jim’s - and everything wasn’t perfect, but close.