Not Your Average Juliet | STXI | NC-17
Title: Not Your Average Juliet
Beta: rainbowstrlght
Series: STXI AU
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~8,300
Warnings: Overly-dramatic, hormonal teenagers coming your way.
Summary: That crack high-school AU where Spock is popular, Kirk is not, Gaila is a cheerleader, and Spock deals with an anonymous online hater.
A/N: I don’t even have a logical explanation for this. It was for funsies and nothing else. Please don't take this nonsense seriously!
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
Juliet Kilo: You look bored.
Spock blinked at the message that popped up over his computer programming assignment. He did not know anyone named Juliet in the class. A quick glance over his monitor revealed no one in the large circle of computers attempting to attract his attention. Odd.
Spock: I am not.
Juliet Kilo: I thought Vulcans couldn’t lie.
Spock: I am not lying.
Juliet Kilo: Holy shit, two in a row!
Spock: Who are you?
Juliet Kilo: Uh, I know you can read.
Spock: You are obviously utilising a pseudonym.
Juliet Kilo: This is my name for all intents and purposes.
Spock leaned back in his chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone looking at him from the corner of his eye. All he received in turn was a quizzical look from a Junior - James Kirk? - sitting beside him. The shaggy-haired boy pushed his thick glasses up his freckled nose, and returned his attention to the monitor with hunched shoulders. Spock frowned past the student’s back, now blatantly searching for any females in the vicinity.
None were looking at him. He returned to his monitor with a frown.
Spock: What do you want?
Juliet Kilo: A lot of things - I’m a selfish person. But, most pressingly, I want lunch.
Spock: Do we have the same lunch period?
Juliet Kilo: Who cares? So tell me, because I’ve been dying to know - do you even like anyone in your entourage? Or are they just there so no one can touch you?
A lump lodged in Spock’s throat that he could not swallow down. He did not reply immediately, as he attempted to pinpoint the IP address of the messenger’s computer. But it seemed as though Juliet’s electronic skills surpassed those of this class, and he hit a wall. Spock glowered at the flashing cursor that awaited his reply.
Spock: They are my friends.
Juliet Kilo: Coulda fooled me.
Spock: I do not see how my acquaintances are any of your concern.
Juliet Kilo: They’re not. I was just curious. You don’t think it’s strange that you don’t have one real friend among your horde of admirers?
A twitch was developing in Spock’s jaw. This was complete nonsense. This person was merely some heckler who did not know him or his friends. With a single cleansing breath, Spock disregarded the comments with steely determination. He had experienced enough unwarranted bullying on Vulcan. He would not submit to it again.
Spock: I am not interested in your opinions. Please refrain from speaking to me again.
Juliet Kilo: Coward.
Spock has Signed Off.
***
Spock frowned into his couscous, puzzling over the day’s mystery to no avail. Why would someone harass him? He did not cause anyone in this institution undue stress or trouble. He had no enemies.
Or friends?
“You all right, Spock?” Nyota disengaged from her conversation with Hikaru to peer at him from across the table. Her heavily-kohled eyes flitted from Spock’s eyes to his lips.
“I am... well,” Spock finished with more uncertainty than was characteristic of his demeanour.
Nyota gave him a lingering look and shrugged. She returned her attention to where Hikaru and Pavel were arguing the merits of fencing versus krav maga.
Rather than slumping as he wished, Spock only straightened his posture, with his hand fisting in his lap beneath the table. Spock was aware of the psychological concept known as the self-fulfilling prophecy. If he chose to believe that he was an outcast, it would inevitably come to pass due to his instinctual behaviour under that specific delusion. Therefore, he would not fall into a pattern.
He would not allow himself to overanalyse the speed in which Nyota had dismissed Spock’s obvious discomfort. She had inquired as to his welfare, and he has assured her of his fair condition. There was no more he could expect from her.
Although... although he had noted, on several occasions, that if Gaila appeared upset, Nyota would badger the cheerleader until she relented to an admission. Perhaps that was female disposition. Considering how confusing the female of any species tended to be, the possibility was probable.
“Jimmy!” Gaila twisted on the bench beside Spock, and perched atop the edge of the table.
Spock spared a look over his shoulder, noting the same Junior from Computer Programming.
Kirk’s lips were a sober line as he ambled over with an apple in one hand, and a stack of books held to his hip with the other. Spock noted the wrinkles in Kirk’s navy uniform, and the drag of his trousers on the floor - he was rather short, and the clothing was not properly tailored - with distaste, and turned back to pick at his lunch.
Gaila held out her arms, and Spock couldn’t help but notice from his periphery that Kirk stepped right into the embrace. He did not lean forward, but simply allowed Gaila to link her hands at his nape.
“Jimmy, I need a favour,” she cooed, her fingertips twining in his unkempt hair.
It was impossible to discern Kirk’s mood behind the haphazard bangs and studious glasses. “You know I don’t do favours.”
“No fun.” Gaila pouted. “How much for a ten page report on World War III?”
“Who’s the professor?”
“Biggs.”
“He’s a dick with grading. It’ll cost extra.”
“What about the same amount of credits and I...” Gaila leaned in to whisper in Kirk’s ear.
Unfortunately, Spock’s hearing was particularly acute, and he had to will his face from going up in flame at the creative suggestion.
Spock could not see Kirk’s reaction from his position, but his voice was warm and smooth. “Love doing business with you, Red.”
“I know.” Gaila pushed off Kirk’s chest, and sent him a wiggle-fingered wave. “Bye-bye, Jimmy.”
Kirk said nothing, but rounded the table to exit the cafeteria. He passed by Uhura with a curl to his lips. Nyota muttered 'yuck' just loud enough to be heard, and swung around to face Gaila; who had sat back down beside Spock.
Nyota wrinkled her nose. “Why do you hang out with that guy? You know he’s just a massive perve.”
“Oh, please - just because he felt you up at Freshman Winter Formal does not make him a mouth-breather. Besides,” Gaila’s smile widened as she leaned in, “Not only is the guy a genius, he’s incredible in the sack.”
“No!” Nyota jerked back with a hand clamped to her mouth. “You did not - tell me you didn’t, Gaila!”
“Gaila slept with who now?” Hikaru perked up. Pavel pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head faintly.
“Jim Kirk,” Nyota strangled out. “That skeeze who doesn’t say anything; but when he opens his mouth, it’s always something totally repulsive.”
“He is student with famous dead father?” Pavel inquired through his thick accent.
Hikaru nodded. “I heard Principal Pike is only letting him go here because he was friends with the guy’s ‘rents.”
“I hear he writes textbook under pseudonym,” Pavel added with a vigorous nod.
“Nah, man. He’s in high school. If he was writing textbooks he wouldn’t even need to be here. Duh.”
“I’ve heard absolutely nothing about him,” Nyota added, with arms folded across her chest. “You’d hardly know he existed in this school if it wasn’t for him being top of the Junior class.”
“What?” Gaila frowned, twirling one of her fiery curls. “I don’t see the problem. Spock, am I missing something?” Spock nearly choked on some zucchini, but managed to look up calmly as Gaila prattled on. “It’s not like I sleep with him just so he’ll do my homework. And I’m simply awful with history - especially Human history. Why do I care which pink flesh-bag killed which?”
Spock set his fork down carefully, lips pursed. “I believe Nyota is merely concerned for your well-being. From the limited information I have accrued on James Kirk, I can only conclude that he is a rather unsavoury character. You would do well to avoid him, as his own disasters might also become yours.”
“Just be careful, Lala,” Nyota concluded with a meaningful lift of brows. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“Well he’s certainly not quiet in bed.”
Nyota put her hands over her face. “Oh my god, Lala.”
Hikaru made an expression of displeasure. “Ew. TMI, Gaila.”
“Indeed. Please refrain from such subject matter at the table, Gaila.”
“You all need to get laid, darlings.”
***Juliet Kilo: Are we still fighting, honey?
Spock’s jaw tightened. He had been braced for another altercation. Keeping his expression neutral, he typed his reply. Spock would not allow this character to harass him.
Spock: I have not considered your words since our previous altercation seven days and twenty minutes ago. You said nothing that I considered worthy of merit.
Juliet Kilo: Aw, so you’ve forgiven me.
Spock: As I have said, I had not given our conversation any thought past the immediate moment.
Juliet Kilo: There you go with the lying again. Naughty Vulcan. You missed me, didn’t you?
Spock: No.
Juliet Kilo: Okay, maybe not. But don’t tell me you haven’t given any weight to what we talked about before?
Spock closed the messenger window. He would not travel this line of thought again. Approximately seven-point-five minutes elapsed before that infernal box reappeared before his eyes.
Juliet Kilo: Your lack of answer proves me right. Let me guess - you realised that no one actually gives a shit about you.
Spock: What do you intend to achieve in this dialogue?
In this instance, there was a pause on the other end. Spock shifted in his seat, one hand fisted on his lap as he waited. People cared about him. His friends held him in high regard. They asked for his opinion and advice on a daily basis. The fact that they did not delve into personal inquiries only proved that they respected his Vulcan values of privacy.
Juliet Kilo: You piss me off.
Spock blinked at the screen. Never had anyone expressed an open dislike for him. It was rather... unexpected. And certainly unprecedented.
Spock: Why?
Juliet Kilo: You have it too fucking easy. You treat people like they’re your royal subjects, and everyone just takes it because they want to be the Ambassador’s son’s friend. They want to be seen with the sexy Vulcan in expensively tailored clothes. Tell me - have you genuinely worked for anything in your life? Do you know loss or want?
Spock’s eyes burned. He wanted to shut them, and lock out the scalding words thrown in his face.
Naturally, his peers held him in high esteem. That was logical, was it not? If his path in Starfleet went as planned, Spock would be a person of significance one day. His father was also a man of considerable weight. It was not unusual to cultivate an affluent social network for the future. Should people wish to make his acquaintance for this purpose, he should not be averse to the manoeuvre. He would do the very same.
And yet, Spock realised he was undeniably incensed.
Spock: I do not need to justify myself to an online bully. You call me a coward, and yet you hide behind electronics.
Juliet Kilo: You wouldn’t listen to me if I told you to your face. You’re just that damn arrogant.
Spock: And you are not arrogant?
Juliet Kilo: It’s part of my charm.
Spock: I do not find you charming in the slightest.
Juliet Kilo: Unlike everyone else in this shit hole, I don’t care what you think.
Juliet Kilo has Signed Off.
Well that was... simply rude. More than slightly miffed, Spock returned to his work with half attention.
Who was Juliet Kilo, and what was her prerogative? Could it really be as simple as jealousy? Although she denied any regard for him, Juliet clearly held particular misconceptions about him that had led her to aggressively seek him out. It was a most perplexing conundrum. But it was also none of Spock’s concern. A few harsh words from a computer screen would not deter or deflate him.
Nevertheless, the situation was rather disconcerting.
***
“Does the name Juliet Kilo hold meaning for you?” Spock asked Nyota, as they sat on a bench in front of the school. First period would begin in twenty-seven minutes, and students were slowly seeping into the building. Spock met early with Nyota on a tri-weekly basis to study for their xeno-linguism course.
Much to Spock’s dismay, his thoughts would not focus on important matters. Rather, they blurred and faltered with every instance of someone’s approving scan of his body. His throat tightened when he noted a fellow student appraising his expensive military boots, or the antique silver ring on his middle finger. Several of his peers had stared at his lips when he spoke, rather than his eyes. People gave him a berth in the halls that had somehow gone previously unnoticed until now. Spock grappled at his slippery sense of self, but every day it seemed as though his confidence was floating away.
Let me guess - you realised that no one actually gives a shit about you.
“No. Is that a new band? Are they any good?”
Spock stared at the pavement. “No. It is no matter.”
Nyota leaned against Spock’s shoulder, and he reflexively stiffened. A cold kiss marked Spock’s temple, and Nyota’s voice was too close, too breezy. “You’ve been weird lately. People are talking. I hope you’re okay, Spock.”
She jumped up from the bench, arms up and waving. “Oh hey, I see Gaila. You mind if I cut the study session short today? You already know it all, anyway.”
Spock nodded in a silent daze, but Nyota was already gathering her belongings and heading off.
***Juliet Kilo: I bet you’ve never been kissed.
Spock flicked a brow. Schooling his face into perfect lines, he quickly shut the screen and continued on with his assignment.
Juliet Kilo: Maybe that’s why you’re so uptight.
His eye twitched. Spock closed the window.
Juliet Kilo: Hell, you could probably do with some tame handholding.
Blazes of Mount Seleya.
Juliet Kilo: Or a blowjob.
Spock’s squeak echoed in the otherwise quiet classroom. He did not need to look up to know there were eyes on him. Clearing his throat, Spock calmly exited out of the chat window once more.
Juliet Kilo: I think you need someone to peel away those layers. Strip them away and fucking burn them. Leave you naked and aching and understanding what it means to desire something so much you could explode.
One trembling finger hovered over the delete button. Spock swallowed and stared. Distantly, he was cognisant of the tips of his ears burning, but could do nothing more to stop that than he could halt himself from reading the heated script three times over.
Juliet Kilo: Then you’d know what it means to want. Just a little.
His lungs burned. Spock released a quiet breath.
Juliet Kilo: Unfortunately, no one’s brave enough to touch you with a ten-foot titanium rod.
Spock jerked out of his trance with an uninhibited scowl.
Juliet Kilo: Of course, they’d have to pull it out of your ass first.
In a flurry of sharp motion, Spock exited out of his computer and stood with a screech of his chair. In his blind rush to grab his books, his elbow knocked aside the belongings of the student to his right. PADDs and styluses and the errant notebook slumped to the floor, and Jim Kirk was on his knees collecting his things before Spock could find his voice.
“I apologise,” Spock said tightly, kneeling to help. That sandy, bowed head lifted, and their faces were mere inches apart.
Spock’s hands went still, and froze beneath a wall of unwavering ice. Over the top of Kirk’s glasses, Spock realised the student had been concealing large, exceptionally blue eyes. Had Spock been a weaker Vulcan, he might have been unnerved by the cold intensity of the mute expression.
But then Kirk looked away, scooped up his things, and sat in his seat without a word exchanged.
Perplexed and functioning on the barest level of prudence, Spock approached the teacher, made his excuses, and retreated.
***
“I don’t understand it, I really don’t.” Nyota slumped forward on the bleachers, with chin in hands as she stared six rows down, towards the edge of the football field. The school band played a slurred, brassy rendition of the fight song, and clusters of teenagers found seats or gathered by the refreshments. Two figures, however, were the point of Nyota’s concern.
Gaila, in full cheerleader garb, sat on James Kirk’s lap; with one bare thigh on either side of his waist. Spock was rather surprised that gravity allowed her skirt to cover the more distressing areas of her anatomy. He watched as Kirk’s large hands drifted up the bare length of thigh. Again, he wore that expression of barely contained amusement; a curl to one corner of his lips. Kirk leaned in and murmured something in Gaila’s ear that had her throwing her head back in laughter.
“Nor do I,” Spock dully replied.
“What does she even see in him?” Nyota mumbled despondently. “How can they find anything to talk about?”
Kirk’s hand rested on one dainty, green knee. A smile crept across Gaila’s cherry lips as she leaned forward, and tugged on the bridge of Kirk’s glasses.
“Perhaps they do not converse.”
Nyota sighed. “Yeah.”
Spock observed Kirk jerking away from Gaila’s fingers. The girl rolled her eyes and laughed, saying something like let me see that pretty face, and pushed Kirk’s glasses atop his head. Thick hair swept away from a high forehead, revealing dramatically arched brows. Kirk’s face was exposed as something so dynamic and unlike Spock’s initial impression of the quiet, sullen student, that Spock could only blink at his profile in staggered silence.
As if sensing the attention, Kirk looked up sharply. Their gazes snapped together like opposing magnets. Spock could distinguish the fire in Kirk’s bright blue eyes from the distance between them. And then perfect, white teeth flashed in a smile so predatory, that Spock’s heart undoubtedly skipped a palpitation.
Spock veered away in attempts to devote his attention to Nyota. But even as he struggled to instigate a conversation, he was endeavouring to equate the reticent James Kirk he had overlooked and ignored, with the Jim Kirk who was empirically a lecherous, manipulative, petty racketeer. It was a difficult assimilation, to be sure.
True, the student was not Spock’s concern on any level. But that smile was seared into the back of his mind, throbbing as if it were warning Spock that Kirk was, without a doubt, dangerous.
And that was... fascinating.
***
Spock felt distinctly uneasy. He had been signed into the school’s messenger system for two-thirds of the class period - as had Juliet Kilo. And yet she said nothing. It left Spock struggling not to squirm in his seat. He hardly realised he was typing until the deed was done.
Spock: Have you eliminated all subjects in which to mock me?
Juliet Kilo: Nope. I just wanted the satisfaction of seeing you crawl back. I bet you’d get off on being dominated.
Spock: Pardon me?
Juliet Kilo: You’re always in control. Having someone yank you by the hair and shove you to your knees would drive you insane.
Again, Spock could not help but scrutinise the classroom. Everyone was working quietly. No one looked particularly suspicious. Every female had a studious expression, and many were hunched in deep contemplation. None of them so much as glanced at him.
Lips weighted in a frown, Spock aimed a narrow look at the message box. As if somehow he could divine the true identity of his harasser if he stared long enough.
Spock: Do you only think of sexual intercourse?
Juliet Kilo: Not only. I think about foreplay, too.
Spock: You are a disturbing woman.
Juliet Kilo: You have no idea.
Spock: Why do you keep your identity hidden?
Juliet Kilo: For fun.
Spock: I surmise that is not the full explanation.
Juliet Kilo: You don’t deserve one.
Spock pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. One short breath and he was centred again, and was able to regard the hostile turn of conversation with an air of detachment. As long as he remained collected and civil, there was no reason a stranger’s words could do anything to emotionally compromise him.
Spock: Do you so strongly dislike me?
Juliet Kilo: I’m doing you a favour.
Spock: By insulting me?
Juliet Kilo: By opening your eyes.
Spock: My eyes are open.
Juliet Kilo: You can’t even see me, let alone yourself.
“James Kirk.”
Spock snapped his head up, with his eyes narrowing on Kirk’s back, as the student cocked his head at their instructor.
“Yeah?”
“You’re presence is required in the principal’s office.”
Kirk did not appear particularly concerned as he grunted and shut down his computer. He was making his way out the door when Spock realised that he had forgotten a genuine textbook beside the monitor. Unfortunately, Kirk had already vacated the room before Spock could call out to him.
Spock turned the book in his hands, considering the title. World War III: Codes and Code Breaking. Strange - Spock did not recall his third-year WWIII class requiring such a text. Perhaps it was a special interest.
Spock inwardly shrugged, and tucked the book into his bag. He would deliver it to Gaila, who would likely see Kirk before he did.
You can’t even see me...
A hasty look back to Spock’s monitor revealed Juliet to be offline. Spock’s brow furrowed slightly as he considered her parting words - philosophy had never been his forte. Even when his thoughts bled into the liberal spectrum, Spock still had trouble deciphering veiled phrases. Although what Spock did register was Juliet’s express intent to change his perspective on... something.
Specifics unknown.
***
Perhaps Spock’s cognisance had been expanded on some level. Lunch began to feel like a panoramic view of the mess hall. Spock now reflexively took note of the manner which people eyed him and whispered, or sent hopeful smiles his way, while still averting their eyes. Spock was reminded of the minor paranoia he had experienced upon coming to Earth for freshman year of Starfleet Preparatory. Before everyone had realised ‘who he was’.
There was only one student who thoroughly ignored him. One person who had the perplexing power to make Spock feel like a specimen beneath a microscope. And yet, James Kirk did not even appear even slightly concerned regarding his effect on Spock.
Instead, Kirk tended to slink by their table and find an empty spot near the windows. He would drop his bag loudly on the floor, slump into a chair, and pull out a PADD to study. He rarely socialised, unless it was with Gaila - and it was always her who approached him.
Today’s lunch period began in that same customary fashion. Kirk swept past them without care.
“Jimmy!” Gaila called from her seat beside Spock.
Kirk paused and turned, silently regarding Gaila with an inclined chin.
Gaila leaned in with a mischievous smile. “I heard you were called to the principal’s office a couple of days ago.”
“You heard right.” He turned.
“Wait, you can’t just leave it at that.” There was a distinct hunger in Gaila’s voice. She was rather fond of gossip. “Are you in trouble?”
Kirk leaned his hip against the table. He looked down, and gave Gaila his full attention. “Always.”
Spock could not discern if Kirk was speaking in jest, but that cryptic curve had graced his lips once more.
Gaila smacked him lightly on the hip. “Be serious!”
There was a distinct flash of blue behind thick lenses, indicating an eye roll. “Pike tried to call me up on my, um, study aid services. Naturally he had fuck-all for proof. It was just a load of bullshit.”
“Oh, Jimmy.”
“It’s fine, Red. Your paper’ll get written.”
“You know I’m not worried about that,” Gaila admonished him with a pout, and stood. Her fingers went to Kirk’s glasses in a gesture that Spock realised was habitual; as if she had done it several times before. Kirk didn’t bother to evade, and his face was exposed once more. Gaila frowned. “Why do you wear these things?”
His eyebrows arched, and his eyes danced in some private merriment. “I like ‘em.”
“But they’re just awful, baby.”
“Well then it’s lucky you’re not wearing them.”
“You won’t be allowed to wear them, once you take Command track. You’ll have to get the surgery, then. You do know it’s painless, right?”
Kirk scrunched his nose, and Spock was momentarily taken aback by the juvenile gesture. “I hate doctors. I’ll avoid it as long as possible. Anyway, you can get away with so much more when you wear glasses. No one really sees you.”
Gaila’s voice neared a purr. “Is that how you manage to be so naughty all the time?”
Only Spock heard Nyota’s groan.
Kirk snorted the barest laugh. “Obviously.”
Spock had not realised that his tongue had deceived him with speech, until it was too late. “You would do well to err on the side of caution, Mr. Kirk. Should you be exposed, the probability is high that you will face expulsion.”
The look Kirk cast over Gaila’s shoulder easily equated with being showered by hard, frigid hail. “And you would give a fuck about someone other than yourself, why?” Kirk’s lackadaisical tone did not warm the chill in his expressive eyes.
A jagged shiver snapped down Spock’s spine. His lips parted, and he inwardly floundered for a reply. Distantly he recognised Nyota’s gasp, and Gaila’s admonishment of Kirk.
Spock could only stare as Kirk yanked his glasses down and stalked away.
No one really sees you.
***Spock: What have I done to give you the impression that I have an unsatisfactory personality?
Juliet Kilo: It’s not what you’ve done - it’s what you haven’t done.
Spock: I do not follow.
Juliet Kilo: You don’t do anything for anyone.
Spock: That is not true.
Juliet Kilo: Really? When was the last time you nodded at one of those fangirls who say good morning to you?
Spock: It is not a Vulcan custom to bid someone a pleasant hour of daylight.
Juliet Kilo: You’re not on Vulcan. Would it really hurt your pride to say hello - to smile? When was the last time you put that infamous brain to use and actually tutored people?
Spock: I am busy with my own studies.
Juliet Kilo: The hell you are. Like I said, you’re a coward.
Spock: I am not.
Juliet Kilo: You are. You’re afraid to show people that you’re something more than a pristine, top of the line computer.
Spock: How do you know there is something more in me?
Juliet Kilo: Because that’s the only way we’re all the same.
Spock: Poetic.
Juliet Kilo: Whatever.
***
“Is that your assignment or someone else’s?” Spock inquired without meaning to. Much to his dismay, Spock found himself speaking to James Kirk when conversation was totally unnecessary. He felt like a fool for it; and yet he continued to do things like approach the student in the library, while he was obviously working alone.
Kirk did not flinch at Spock’s approach. He did not look up from his PADD. “What’s it t’you?”
Spock replied a bit too quickly. “Nothing, of course,” and resisted the urge to shift from one foot to another. It would not bode well to sit down with Kirk. He had no interest in doing so, anyway; Spock would merely be ignored, as he consistently was.
So he stood there, unsure of whether to stay or go, or what to say. Spock was not a particularly talented conversationalist.
Eventually Kirk tossed his stylus to the table and looked up. “Do you want something? What are you even doing in the library? You never hang out h -”
Something flickered across Kirk’s face. For a moment he chewed at his bottom lip, as if halting whatever words might burst through.
Spock’s gaze flitted to his feet. “I am tutoring a Sophomore in chemistry.”
Eyebrows jerked up beneath haphazard bangs. “Since when do you, of all people, lift a finger to help a lowly Sophomore?”
Spock frowned. “You are also surprised.”
“Also?”
“Someone else - no matter.” Spock felt increasingly annoyed by Kirk’s presence, and yet he did not back away. “Did Gaila return your textbook?”
“What? Oh - uh, yeah.”
Spock nodded stiffly. Kirk continued to look up at him, unblinking. He appeared rather imposing sitting there, Spock realised. Odd, as from what Spock had gathered, Kirk was five-foot-six or seven. Barely taller than Gaila. Naturally he had not taken specific note, it was more out of general observation that had Spock catalogued their considerable height difference.
“The text regarded the utilisation of code speech in World War III, did it not? That was not required reading for third year Earth history.” Was this what Humans deemed as ‘rambling’? Was Spock rambling? Was it possible for a Vulcan to do so? Spock could feel his ears burning. ”But a fascinating topic of study, certainly.”
Kirk blinked. His nails thrummed a rapid beat on the tabletop. “I like puzzles.”
“As do I.”
***Spock: Who are you?
Juliet Kilo: Why the fuck do you care?
Spock: Perhaps it is you who are afraid to show your true self.
Juliet Kilo: I’m not afraid. I just don’t need the drama.
Spock: You insinuate that your identity is controversial.
Juliet Kilo: It’s not.
Spock: Then you may reveal yourself.
Juliet Kilo: No. Just leave it. I’m done with this anyway.
Spock: Now it is you who runs.
“Fuck -”
Spock aimed a narrow look at Kirk, who turned to Spock in tandem.
“...ing matrixes,” Kirk finished slowly. “They’re pissing me off.”
“Indeed?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled; returning his attention to his assignment. For the first time in Spock’s memory, Kirk wore a frown.
Later, when class had concluded and everyone filed from the room, Spock remained behind. The probability was meagre that searching the name ‘Juliet Kilo’ in Earth’s internet database would shed any light on his situation, but Spock needed to know. If Juliet was speaking the truth - and she always had - she was finished with him. Spock’s inquiries into her identity had made her genuinely nervous, which only further piqued his interest.
Who was this person? In the privacy of Spock’s thoughts, he could admit that in the beginning he had been illogically angry with this anonymous bully; for speaking untruths and attacking his personality when she did not know him. But then, perhaps Juliet did know him. It would explain how... observant she had been time and again, even when Spock had refused to acknowledge it.
And perhaps Spock was not so averse to her company now. No one spoke to him like Juliet did. Whether or not he agreed with everything she said was another matter. The begrudging fact was that no one was as open with Spock as Juliet; and Spock did not feel the need to be polite with her at all times.
Spock wondered if this was a bizarre form of Stockholm syndrome.
It was complicated.
Spock searched the name, and it became more convoluted. The first page of results pointed entirely to the International Phonetic Alphabet, a form of code communication often used in Starfleet and past military organisations. Codes. A faint siren of yellow alert echoed in the back of Spock’s mind as he opened the first link.
Now that Spock knew what he was looking at, his own memory supplied the remainder of the information. It took seconds to bring the puzzle together. Each piece collided and fit, and Spock felt more like an imbecile than he ever had. How had he not made the connection from the beginning?
Juliet Kilo. The letters J and K. James Kirk.
This was a Red Alert.
***
“I know who you are.”
Spock kept a steely eye on Kirk, even though his hands threatened to shake. He had caught sight of Kirk amongst the sea of students in navy and silver - team colours - and had quickly excused himself to take chase. The home game had already kicked off, and the yells of support from both schools was almost deafening.
Still, Kirk froze in a way that indicated he had certainly heard Spock’s declaration. Then his shoulders slumped in nonchalance, and his hands dove into the pockets of his low-slung jeans.
“Yes, we have met,” Kirk said low enough that Spock had to lean in to hear.
Spock narrowed his gaze. His heart beat in time with the booming marching drum - or perhaps the band was not playing at all. “You are Juliet Kilo.”
It had been said. There could be no denying it. Spock was prepared to argue.
Kirk did not move. He did not blink or shift or even breathe. “And? What do you want?”
Spock inwardly sputtered in confusion. Outwardly, his lips tightened. “And I would appreciate an explanation.”
That earned a harsh laugh from Kirk. He was smiling now, but in the way that a piranha or a hyena bared its teeth. Kirk shook his head and turned on his heel, heading towards the parking lot.
It took a moment for Spock to realise he had been shunned. No one dared turn their back to him so rudely, and Kirk did it with a smile. Of all the -
Spock caught up with Kirk in long, loping strides. Face set in sober lines, Spock clamped onto Jim’s arm and yanked him beneath the shadowed bleachers. Kirk’s struggles were negligible against Spock’s strength, and his venomous curses were drowned out by the clamour of humanity above their heads. Spock whipped Kirk around to face him.
“You spent a great deal of energy attempting to incense me, and now you give me no valid justification.”
Kirk jerked out of Spock’s grasp, but only to take a step further into his personal space. Despite the darkness that masked Kirk’s features, his glare remained palpable. “Believe me - it took no exertion on my part to point out what a dick you are.”
Spock frowned and cocked his head. He was nothing but congenial to his peers. “Why?”
This innocent inquiry appeared to snap Kirk’s brittle control. He went toe to toe with Spock, their chests brushing as Kirk filled every inch of his meagre height. He snarled, “I told you - you pissed me off! I’m so fucking sick of Starfleet brats with their delusions of privilege. Real life isn’t like that. This fucking prep school is a bubble that's gonna pop the minute you step into the world, and then our lives will be left in the hands of a bunch of ignorant kids who only know how to ask daddy for help.”
Of course Spock knew that. He had no misconceptions about his future. He would achieve everything on his own. If his father’s name gave him inherent leverage, it was no intent of Spock’s to manipulate this benefit - but he could not change how people viewed him, either.
“Why did you single me out? You reached out to me, Kirk.”
Now Kirk stumbled back a step, his mouth moving before words even came. “I - I don’t know. You were a prime example, I guess.”
He used the past tense, Spock noted. As if some factor had changed. Suddenly Kirk did not sound as cocksure as he once had.
Spock pressed on, while one hand went to Kirk’s elbow in an uncharacteristically tactile plea.
“Tell me -”
“I don’t know!” Kirk’s voice cracked, and his eyes were wide and fathomless behind the shield of glasses. “Something about you -”
“What about me? You cannot simply do as you please and expect no one to questi -”
Kirk’s arms corded around Spock’s neck like a vice and pulled him forward, as Kirk went to his toes and sealed his mouth to Spock’s. The unexpected contact has Spock jerking, but strong fingers fisted in his hair and goaded him on. Spock’s hands remained clenched at his sides, even as his lips went plaint and giving. One part of his body refused to relent to the wiry frame arched against him, even when another aspect of him desired to plunge his tongue between Kirk’s lush lips.
Then Kirk’s palms cupped Spock’s face, and his mouth was ravaged with unbidden nips and bites and soothing lashes of tongue. Spock did not know when he began to reciprocate, but eventually he came to realise that they were not so much kissing, but suckling and twining tongues with primal grunts of encouragement.
Their noses bumped as Spock leaned forward and cupped Kirk’s firm rear in both hands and lifted him up. Kirk’s legs clamped around his hips without quarrel, and Spock’s cut-off hiss had nothing to do with the added weight and everything to do with the unquestionable length of Kirk’s erection pressing against Spock’s stomach.
Kirk’s mouth was wet and inviting when he finally parted his lips for Spock. The kiss was clumsy and nothing like Spock had imagined, yet everything he had not known he wished for. Kirk’s hands impatiently grappled with Spock’s cardigan as they yanked and pulled in their search for bare flesh. Spock was no help with his hands full, and so he indulged himself with a taste of the taut, pulsing line of Kirk’s neck. The curve of his jaw smelled of wood-smoke and rain.
The unbuttoning of Spock’s trousers had his mouth freezing at Kirk’s ear. “Kirk -“
“Call me Jim or shut up,” Kirk rasped. His voice was lower and more unsteady than Spock had ever heard it.
Before Spock could choose between his two available options, the decision was made for him. Kirk angled his chin and captured Spock’s lips with a finesse that had Spock reeling; floating on the feel of that enthusiastic tongue exploring his mouth, while those nimble fingers wedged between their bodies and tugged at Spock’s zipper.
Holding on to Kirk was like gripping a livewire. His movements refused to slow or cease. His hands found their way beneath Spock’s top, and his hem was immediately dragged up so that Kirk could rake his nails down the small of his back. Spock’s breath caught in his throat, and his fingertips dug into the perfect mounds of Kirk’s rear; he was completely unable to release him. Physical force would be necessary to detach Kirk from Spock’s possession.
“Y’get under m’skin,” Kirk murmured in Spock’s ear, and curled his tongue around the pointed tip.
Spock’s reply consisted of moaning obscenely into the smooth curve of Kirk’s neck, as he blindly undulated his hips against the straining bulge in Kirk’s jeans. Spock did not know what he craved - how could he, when he had never been involved in anything remotely like this? But he knew whatever it was he wished for, it involved Kirk.
No, there was one thing Spock craved.
Spock turned and slammed Kirk’s spine against one of the supporting beams. Kirk whimpered, but arched receptively against Spock’s stomach. Spock shifted Kirk’s weight just enough to bring a hand between them and pulled off Kirk’s glasses. Spock had not realised he had tossed them over his shoulder until Kirk was staring at him with wide eyes and wet, parted lips. Spock catalogued the thick lashes and the unnatural glimmer of Kirk’s gaze, like Bunsen burner blue.
They stared at each other for one quivering moment. A chorus of cheers thundered around them, and Kirk mouthed Spock’s name without a sound.
Spock’s heart crashed against his ribs, and he realised this was all he had required. He scooped up Kirk anew and practically purred against those swollen lips as Kirk frantically undid his own zipper. When the unmistakable outline of Kirk’s pulsing length slid against Spock’s bare belly, white-noise hissed in his ears.
If it was possible for reality to hurtle into fast-forward, it had. There was a desperate moment in which their bodies were so plastered together, that Kirk could not reach between them. A muttered curse and a grunt later, and Spock’s heavy erection was freed with calloused, quick fingers. Kirk gripped them both in an expert hold, as he squeezed and stroked and slicked precum between them.
Spock could only mindlessly thrust into Kirk’s fist and find that addictive mouth once more. Spock inhaled every delicate, shaking breath from Kirk’s lips as he lapped and licked every groan that tumbled from his tongue.
When even kissing was too much effort to concentrate on, their foreheads leaned against each others. Kirk’s damp brow pressed hard against Spock’s; both of them screwing their eyes shut as Kirk’s hand pumped quick and tight around their erections. Spock keened, rocking ineffectually forward as his knees buckled with the coiling current of electricity that tightened around his limbs and fingers and toes. His skin felt electric, as the fissures of heat grew to an impossible burn with every quick jerk of Kirk’s fist.
Kirk came first. He gasped against Spock’s ear as he leaned his full weight against Spock’s chest, and spilled warm and wet across his hand and Spock’s erection. The lazy ministrations of Kirk’s palm as it collected the dripping ejaculate and slicked it down Spock’s length was enough to burn every surviving circuit in Spock’s mind. The end came like a bolt of lightning to Spock’s core, as it sparked down his spine with a voltage that should have left him totally obliterated. Spock buried his face in Kirk’s neck, pushed him back against the support beam once more, and dearly hoped he didn’t drop him.
Spock felt golden; lit up from the inside out. But as the lingering sparks scattered and faded from his skin, he became increasingly aware of where they were and what they were doing - and, more importantly, who he was with.
With a clearing mind, Spock realised that he was out of his depth.
As if understanding his line of thought, Kirk let go of Spock without a sound; although Spock’s hands lingered at Kirk’s hips for a brief moment.
But dread crept around Spock’s heart like a vice, and soon he was turning and tucking himself away with heated cheeks and fumbling fingers. Noting that his cardigan was ruined, he found no other alternative but to unbutton it and leave it lying on the ground. The night air chilled his skin through his t-shirt, and Spock illogically wished he could still feel the echo of Kirk’s warmth against him.
Hoping his expression appeared placid, Spock faced Kirk.
Spock was greeted with a similarly attired Kirk. His sweater had also been discarded and his glasses were hooked in the collar of his v-neck. Kirk’s lips and cheeks remained flushed, and his eyes glinted in the darkness. Spock did not realise he was staring until Kirk opened his mouth, then closed it and approached Spock with an uncharacteristically tentative gait.
Their proximity was near enough that Spock could feel Kirk’s breath on his cheek. Kirk had yet to give any inclination as to his emotions. Spock wondered how garishly his own feelings were being portrayed across his features.
Levity passed across Kirk’s face, as his lips quirked and he clapped Spock jarringly on the shoulder. “Y’know, Spock - I think there’s hope for you yet.”
Kirk swept by, and Spock swivelled to stare over his shoulder in pure bewilderment.
“What is your meaning?” he called after him.
The reply was nearly carried away by the cheers above.
“Means I’ve seen a lot more to you than I thought I would.”
Spock watched Kirk retreat, and did not feel so very cold.
***
On the following Monday, Kirk did not attend classes. Nor was he in school the day after. It eventually seeped through the usual modes of gossip - Gaila - that Kirk had indeed been accused and expelled for his numerous breaches of school policy.
From what little Spock could gather, Kirk had been sent back to Iowa to live with his stepfather. He was not even attending high school; having tested out of the institution years prior, in order to simply prove his worth to Starfleet’s educational system. Without the future of Starfleet in Kirk’s sights, it appeared as though he was condemned to exist aimlessly until he was of a legal age.
This did not create a noticeable stir amongst Spock’s peers - sans those who required his services, and those who rejoiced in Kirk’s absence (Nyota) - as he had not been a particularly popular student. But that seat beside Spock in Computer Programming remained empty for the remainder of the semester, and Juliet never logged in to the school messaging system again. It was as if James Kirk had not existed.
Of course, this was not the case. Spock kept their brief encounter cemented in his thoughts. When he instinctively thought to close himself off from Nyota’s inquiries into his well-being, he mindfully pushed them aside and answered in honesty. He tutored those who required his aid. He joined the fencing club to create bonding time with Hikaru and Pavel. In one particularly painful experience, he even took Christine Chapel - a young Sophomore who had been, as Gaila termed it, mooning over him - to senior prom. In all of these things, Kirk acted as a driving force.
That knowing smirk and determined gaze never faded or dimmed in his memory. Not throughout the end of senior year, or the past two years of Starfleet.
Spock was, admittedly, rather pleased with his life. His career was unfolding as planned; he had peers who respected and liked him, and Spock had people whose company he enjoyed from time to time. He would not owe it all to Kirk - Spock felt he would be successful in all of his ventures whether or not he had known him - but Spock also recognised the difference Kirk had made in his life.
Wherever Kirk was now, Spock hoped he was... well, content.
“You still walk like you’ve got a pole up your ass.”
Spock froze on the manicured lawn of the school grounds. For a splinter of time he felt stuck, as if the Earth’s gravity had increased tenfold. Naturally, this was not the case. Spock willed himself to stiffly turn and confront that familiar, velvety voice.
He would barely have recognised James Kirk were it not for those unforgettable eyes.
Kirk was tall; perhaps just two inches shorter than Spock. Wide shoulders, slim hips, long legs clad in standard Academy trousers. Spock marvelled at the errant freckles and stubble, and the haphazard spikes of hair.
But it was the eyes that held him - their intensity hadn’t faded. Despite Kirk’s gaze remained alert and keen.
He appeared rather content.
It also seemed as if he had not lost his befuddling skill at leaving Spock speechless.
As if comprehending Spock’s stupefaction, Kirk shook with a silent laugh as he closed the space between them in a few strides. Before Spock could comprehend that he was not simply dreaming, Kirk cupped Spock’s face in his palms and placed an exuberant kiss firmly on his mouth. In daylight - in the middle of campus - in front of peers and professors.
Under the circumstances, Spock’s heart did not know whether to leap or sink. Instead it appeared to physically stop for a beat or two. Spock jerked back, with his fingers encircling Kirk’s wrists to bring them down. He didn’t release him.
Spock was secretly pleased when his voice came out strong and sure. “It appears that you remain perplexing and frustrating.”
“Always. And you’re still imperious and intimidating.”
Kirk needed to stop smiling like that. Spock’s gaze darted to their hands, as he let go.
“Apparently. How is it that you -”
“Down on their recruiting quota. You know how it goes.” Kirk shrugged, and Spock could not help but stare at the strong range of his shoulders. “Starfleet needs prodigies. Pike practically begged me to return.”
Their gazes snapped together. Spock’s throat tightened, and the sun seemed to brighten. “You are staying.”
Kirk nodded, as his eyes searched Spock’s. “Looks like it.”
Spock swallowed, and briefly entertained the theory that the air had become thinner. “I am - that is -”
“You really shove your foot in your mouth, don’t you?”
Spock would normally be insulted, and would then proceed to state the inaccuracy of such a ludicrous statement. But Kirk was grinning; his eyes were earnest, and his voice playful.
“You have a talent for seeing my poorer qualities,” Spock admitted quietly.
Kirk stepped further into his personal space, all swagger and smirks. He still smelled the same.
“I saw the good ones too,” Kirk murmured, his eyelashes drifting down. “Eventually. I still do.”
Their lips met, gentler than Spock imagined possible. And all he could think was, I see you, too.
Beta: rainbowstrlght
Series: STXI AU
Rating: NC-17
Length: ~8,300
Warnings: Overly-dramatic, hormonal teenagers coming your way.
Summary: That crack high-school AU where Spock is popular, Kirk is not, Gaila is a cheerleader, and Spock deals with an anonymous online hater.
A/N: I don’t even have a logical explanation for this. It was for funsies and nothing else. Please don't take this nonsense seriously!
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
Juliet Kilo: You look bored.
Spock blinked at the message that popped up over his computer programming assignment. He did not know anyone named Juliet in the class. A quick glance over his monitor revealed no one in the large circle of computers attempting to attract his attention. Odd.
Spock: I am not.
Juliet Kilo: I thought Vulcans couldn’t lie.
Spock: I am not lying.
Juliet Kilo: Holy shit, two in a row!
Spock: Who are you?
Juliet Kilo: Uh, I know you can read.
Spock: You are obviously utilising a pseudonym.
Juliet Kilo: This is my name for all intents and purposes.
Spock leaned back in his chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone looking at him from the corner of his eye. All he received in turn was a quizzical look from a Junior - James Kirk? - sitting beside him. The shaggy-haired boy pushed his thick glasses up his freckled nose, and returned his attention to the monitor with hunched shoulders. Spock frowned past the student’s back, now blatantly searching for any females in the vicinity.
None were looking at him. He returned to his monitor with a frown.
Spock: What do you want?
Juliet Kilo: A lot of things - I’m a selfish person. But, most pressingly, I want lunch.
Spock: Do we have the same lunch period?
Juliet Kilo: Who cares? So tell me, because I’ve been dying to know - do you even like anyone in your entourage? Or are they just there so no one can touch you?
A lump lodged in Spock’s throat that he could not swallow down. He did not reply immediately, as he attempted to pinpoint the IP address of the messenger’s computer. But it seemed as though Juliet’s electronic skills surpassed those of this class, and he hit a wall. Spock glowered at the flashing cursor that awaited his reply.
Spock: They are my friends.
Juliet Kilo: Coulda fooled me.
Spock: I do not see how my acquaintances are any of your concern.
Juliet Kilo: They’re not. I was just curious. You don’t think it’s strange that you don’t have one real friend among your horde of admirers?
A twitch was developing in Spock’s jaw. This was complete nonsense. This person was merely some heckler who did not know him or his friends. With a single cleansing breath, Spock disregarded the comments with steely determination. He had experienced enough unwarranted bullying on Vulcan. He would not submit to it again.
Spock: I am not interested in your opinions. Please refrain from speaking to me again.
Juliet Kilo: Coward.
Spock has Signed Off.
***
Spock frowned into his couscous, puzzling over the day’s mystery to no avail. Why would someone harass him? He did not cause anyone in this institution undue stress or trouble. He had no enemies.
Or friends?
“You all right, Spock?” Nyota disengaged from her conversation with Hikaru to peer at him from across the table. Her heavily-kohled eyes flitted from Spock’s eyes to his lips.
“I am... well,” Spock finished with more uncertainty than was characteristic of his demeanour.
Nyota gave him a lingering look and shrugged. She returned her attention to where Hikaru and Pavel were arguing the merits of fencing versus krav maga.
Rather than slumping as he wished, Spock only straightened his posture, with his hand fisting in his lap beneath the table. Spock was aware of the psychological concept known as the self-fulfilling prophecy. If he chose to believe that he was an outcast, it would inevitably come to pass due to his instinctual behaviour under that specific delusion. Therefore, he would not fall into a pattern.
He would not allow himself to overanalyse the speed in which Nyota had dismissed Spock’s obvious discomfort. She had inquired as to his welfare, and he has assured her of his fair condition. There was no more he could expect from her.
Although... although he had noted, on several occasions, that if Gaila appeared upset, Nyota would badger the cheerleader until she relented to an admission. Perhaps that was female disposition. Considering how confusing the female of any species tended to be, the possibility was probable.
“Jimmy!” Gaila twisted on the bench beside Spock, and perched atop the edge of the table.
Spock spared a look over his shoulder, noting the same Junior from Computer Programming.
Kirk’s lips were a sober line as he ambled over with an apple in one hand, and a stack of books held to his hip with the other. Spock noted the wrinkles in Kirk’s navy uniform, and the drag of his trousers on the floor - he was rather short, and the clothing was not properly tailored - with distaste, and turned back to pick at his lunch.
Gaila held out her arms, and Spock couldn’t help but notice from his periphery that Kirk stepped right into the embrace. He did not lean forward, but simply allowed Gaila to link her hands at his nape.
“Jimmy, I need a favour,” she cooed, her fingertips twining in his unkempt hair.
It was impossible to discern Kirk’s mood behind the haphazard bangs and studious glasses. “You know I don’t do favours.”
“No fun.” Gaila pouted. “How much for a ten page report on World War III?”
“Who’s the professor?”
“Biggs.”
“He’s a dick with grading. It’ll cost extra.”
“What about the same amount of credits and I...” Gaila leaned in to whisper in Kirk’s ear.
Unfortunately, Spock’s hearing was particularly acute, and he had to will his face from going up in flame at the creative suggestion.
Spock could not see Kirk’s reaction from his position, but his voice was warm and smooth. “Love doing business with you, Red.”
“I know.” Gaila pushed off Kirk’s chest, and sent him a wiggle-fingered wave. “Bye-bye, Jimmy.”
Kirk said nothing, but rounded the table to exit the cafeteria. He passed by Uhura with a curl to his lips. Nyota muttered 'yuck' just loud enough to be heard, and swung around to face Gaila; who had sat back down beside Spock.
Nyota wrinkled her nose. “Why do you hang out with that guy? You know he’s just a massive perve.”
“Oh, please - just because he felt you up at Freshman Winter Formal does not make him a mouth-breather. Besides,” Gaila’s smile widened as she leaned in, “Not only is the guy a genius, he’s incredible in the sack.”
“No!” Nyota jerked back with a hand clamped to her mouth. “You did not - tell me you didn’t, Gaila!”
“Gaila slept with who now?” Hikaru perked up. Pavel pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head faintly.
“Jim Kirk,” Nyota strangled out. “That skeeze who doesn’t say anything; but when he opens his mouth, it’s always something totally repulsive.”
“He is student with famous dead father?” Pavel inquired through his thick accent.
Hikaru nodded. “I heard Principal Pike is only letting him go here because he was friends with the guy’s ‘rents.”
“I hear he writes textbook under pseudonym,” Pavel added with a vigorous nod.
“Nah, man. He’s in high school. If he was writing textbooks he wouldn’t even need to be here. Duh.”
“I’ve heard absolutely nothing about him,” Nyota added, with arms folded across her chest. “You’d hardly know he existed in this school if it wasn’t for him being top of the Junior class.”
“What?” Gaila frowned, twirling one of her fiery curls. “I don’t see the problem. Spock, am I missing something?” Spock nearly choked on some zucchini, but managed to look up calmly as Gaila prattled on. “It’s not like I sleep with him just so he’ll do my homework. And I’m simply awful with history - especially Human history. Why do I care which pink flesh-bag killed which?”
Spock set his fork down carefully, lips pursed. “I believe Nyota is merely concerned for your well-being. From the limited information I have accrued on James Kirk, I can only conclude that he is a rather unsavoury character. You would do well to avoid him, as his own disasters might also become yours.”
“Just be careful, Lala,” Nyota concluded with a meaningful lift of brows. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“Well he’s certainly not quiet in bed.”
Nyota put her hands over her face. “Oh my god, Lala.”
Hikaru made an expression of displeasure. “Ew. TMI, Gaila.”
“Indeed. Please refrain from such subject matter at the table, Gaila.”
“You all need to get laid, darlings.”
***Juliet Kilo: Are we still fighting, honey?
Spock’s jaw tightened. He had been braced for another altercation. Keeping his expression neutral, he typed his reply. Spock would not allow this character to harass him.
Spock: I have not considered your words since our previous altercation seven days and twenty minutes ago. You said nothing that I considered worthy of merit.
Juliet Kilo: Aw, so you’ve forgiven me.
Spock: As I have said, I had not given our conversation any thought past the immediate moment.
Juliet Kilo: There you go with the lying again. Naughty Vulcan. You missed me, didn’t you?
Spock: No.
Juliet Kilo: Okay, maybe not. But don’t tell me you haven’t given any weight to what we talked about before?
Spock closed the messenger window. He would not travel this line of thought again. Approximately seven-point-five minutes elapsed before that infernal box reappeared before his eyes.
Juliet Kilo: Your lack of answer proves me right. Let me guess - you realised that no one actually gives a shit about you.
Spock: What do you intend to achieve in this dialogue?
In this instance, there was a pause on the other end. Spock shifted in his seat, one hand fisted on his lap as he waited. People cared about him. His friends held him in high regard. They asked for his opinion and advice on a daily basis. The fact that they did not delve into personal inquiries only proved that they respected his Vulcan values of privacy.
Juliet Kilo: You piss me off.
Spock blinked at the screen. Never had anyone expressed an open dislike for him. It was rather... unexpected. And certainly unprecedented.
Spock: Why?
Juliet Kilo: You have it too fucking easy. You treat people like they’re your royal subjects, and everyone just takes it because they want to be the Ambassador’s son’s friend. They want to be seen with the sexy Vulcan in expensively tailored clothes. Tell me - have you genuinely worked for anything in your life? Do you know loss or want?
Spock’s eyes burned. He wanted to shut them, and lock out the scalding words thrown in his face.
Naturally, his peers held him in high esteem. That was logical, was it not? If his path in Starfleet went as planned, Spock would be a person of significance one day. His father was also a man of considerable weight. It was not unusual to cultivate an affluent social network for the future. Should people wish to make his acquaintance for this purpose, he should not be averse to the manoeuvre. He would do the very same.
And yet, Spock realised he was undeniably incensed.
Spock: I do not need to justify myself to an online bully. You call me a coward, and yet you hide behind electronics.
Juliet Kilo: You wouldn’t listen to me if I told you to your face. You’re just that damn arrogant.
Spock: And you are not arrogant?
Juliet Kilo: It’s part of my charm.
Spock: I do not find you charming in the slightest.
Juliet Kilo: Unlike everyone else in this shit hole, I don’t care what you think.
Juliet Kilo has Signed Off.
Well that was... simply rude. More than slightly miffed, Spock returned to his work with half attention.
Who was Juliet Kilo, and what was her prerogative? Could it really be as simple as jealousy? Although she denied any regard for him, Juliet clearly held particular misconceptions about him that had led her to aggressively seek him out. It was a most perplexing conundrum. But it was also none of Spock’s concern. A few harsh words from a computer screen would not deter or deflate him.
Nevertheless, the situation was rather disconcerting.
***
“Does the name Juliet Kilo hold meaning for you?” Spock asked Nyota, as they sat on a bench in front of the school. First period would begin in twenty-seven minutes, and students were slowly seeping into the building. Spock met early with Nyota on a tri-weekly basis to study for their xeno-linguism course.
Much to Spock’s dismay, his thoughts would not focus on important matters. Rather, they blurred and faltered with every instance of someone’s approving scan of his body. His throat tightened when he noted a fellow student appraising his expensive military boots, or the antique silver ring on his middle finger. Several of his peers had stared at his lips when he spoke, rather than his eyes. People gave him a berth in the halls that had somehow gone previously unnoticed until now. Spock grappled at his slippery sense of self, but every day it seemed as though his confidence was floating away.
Let me guess - you realised that no one actually gives a shit about you.
“No. Is that a new band? Are they any good?”
Spock stared at the pavement. “No. It is no matter.”
Nyota leaned against Spock’s shoulder, and he reflexively stiffened. A cold kiss marked Spock’s temple, and Nyota’s voice was too close, too breezy. “You’ve been weird lately. People are talking. I hope you’re okay, Spock.”
She jumped up from the bench, arms up and waving. “Oh hey, I see Gaila. You mind if I cut the study session short today? You already know it all, anyway.”
Spock nodded in a silent daze, but Nyota was already gathering her belongings and heading off.
***Juliet Kilo: I bet you’ve never been kissed.
Spock flicked a brow. Schooling his face into perfect lines, he quickly shut the screen and continued on with his assignment.
Juliet Kilo: Maybe that’s why you’re so uptight.
His eye twitched. Spock closed the window.
Juliet Kilo: Hell, you could probably do with some tame handholding.
Blazes of Mount Seleya.
Juliet Kilo: Or a blowjob.
Spock’s squeak echoed in the otherwise quiet classroom. He did not need to look up to know there were eyes on him. Clearing his throat, Spock calmly exited out of the chat window once more.
Juliet Kilo: I think you need someone to peel away those layers. Strip them away and fucking burn them. Leave you naked and aching and understanding what it means to desire something so much you could explode.
One trembling finger hovered over the delete button. Spock swallowed and stared. Distantly, he was cognisant of the tips of his ears burning, but could do nothing more to stop that than he could halt himself from reading the heated script three times over.
Juliet Kilo: Then you’d know what it means to want. Just a little.
His lungs burned. Spock released a quiet breath.
Juliet Kilo: Unfortunately, no one’s brave enough to touch you with a ten-foot titanium rod.
Spock jerked out of his trance with an uninhibited scowl.
Juliet Kilo: Of course, they’d have to pull it out of your ass first.
In a flurry of sharp motion, Spock exited out of his computer and stood with a screech of his chair. In his blind rush to grab his books, his elbow knocked aside the belongings of the student to his right. PADDs and styluses and the errant notebook slumped to the floor, and Jim Kirk was on his knees collecting his things before Spock could find his voice.
“I apologise,” Spock said tightly, kneeling to help. That sandy, bowed head lifted, and their faces were mere inches apart.
Spock’s hands went still, and froze beneath a wall of unwavering ice. Over the top of Kirk’s glasses, Spock realised the student had been concealing large, exceptionally blue eyes. Had Spock been a weaker Vulcan, he might have been unnerved by the cold intensity of the mute expression.
But then Kirk looked away, scooped up his things, and sat in his seat without a word exchanged.
Perplexed and functioning on the barest level of prudence, Spock approached the teacher, made his excuses, and retreated.
***
“I don’t understand it, I really don’t.” Nyota slumped forward on the bleachers, with chin in hands as she stared six rows down, towards the edge of the football field. The school band played a slurred, brassy rendition of the fight song, and clusters of teenagers found seats or gathered by the refreshments. Two figures, however, were the point of Nyota’s concern.
Gaila, in full cheerleader garb, sat on James Kirk’s lap; with one bare thigh on either side of his waist. Spock was rather surprised that gravity allowed her skirt to cover the more distressing areas of her anatomy. He watched as Kirk’s large hands drifted up the bare length of thigh. Again, he wore that expression of barely contained amusement; a curl to one corner of his lips. Kirk leaned in and murmured something in Gaila’s ear that had her throwing her head back in laughter.
“Nor do I,” Spock dully replied.
“What does she even see in him?” Nyota mumbled despondently. “How can they find anything to talk about?”
Kirk’s hand rested on one dainty, green knee. A smile crept across Gaila’s cherry lips as she leaned forward, and tugged on the bridge of Kirk’s glasses.
“Perhaps they do not converse.”
Nyota sighed. “Yeah.”
Spock observed Kirk jerking away from Gaila’s fingers. The girl rolled her eyes and laughed, saying something like let me see that pretty face, and pushed Kirk’s glasses atop his head. Thick hair swept away from a high forehead, revealing dramatically arched brows. Kirk’s face was exposed as something so dynamic and unlike Spock’s initial impression of the quiet, sullen student, that Spock could only blink at his profile in staggered silence.
As if sensing the attention, Kirk looked up sharply. Their gazes snapped together like opposing magnets. Spock could distinguish the fire in Kirk’s bright blue eyes from the distance between them. And then perfect, white teeth flashed in a smile so predatory, that Spock’s heart undoubtedly skipped a palpitation.
Spock veered away in attempts to devote his attention to Nyota. But even as he struggled to instigate a conversation, he was endeavouring to equate the reticent James Kirk he had overlooked and ignored, with the Jim Kirk who was empirically a lecherous, manipulative, petty racketeer. It was a difficult assimilation, to be sure.
True, the student was not Spock’s concern on any level. But that smile was seared into the back of his mind, throbbing as if it were warning Spock that Kirk was, without a doubt, dangerous.
And that was... fascinating.
***
Spock felt distinctly uneasy. He had been signed into the school’s messenger system for two-thirds of the class period - as had Juliet Kilo. And yet she said nothing. It left Spock struggling not to squirm in his seat. He hardly realised he was typing until the deed was done.
Spock: Have you eliminated all subjects in which to mock me?
Juliet Kilo: Nope. I just wanted the satisfaction of seeing you crawl back. I bet you’d get off on being dominated.
Spock: Pardon me?
Juliet Kilo: You’re always in control. Having someone yank you by the hair and shove you to your knees would drive you insane.
Again, Spock could not help but scrutinise the classroom. Everyone was working quietly. No one looked particularly suspicious. Every female had a studious expression, and many were hunched in deep contemplation. None of them so much as glanced at him.
Lips weighted in a frown, Spock aimed a narrow look at the message box. As if somehow he could divine the true identity of his harasser if he stared long enough.
Spock: Do you only think of sexual intercourse?
Juliet Kilo: Not only. I think about foreplay, too.
Spock: You are a disturbing woman.
Juliet Kilo: You have no idea.
Spock: Why do you keep your identity hidden?
Juliet Kilo: For fun.
Spock: I surmise that is not the full explanation.
Juliet Kilo: You don’t deserve one.
Spock pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. One short breath and he was centred again, and was able to regard the hostile turn of conversation with an air of detachment. As long as he remained collected and civil, there was no reason a stranger’s words could do anything to emotionally compromise him.
Spock: Do you so strongly dislike me?
Juliet Kilo: I’m doing you a favour.
Spock: By insulting me?
Juliet Kilo: By opening your eyes.
Spock: My eyes are open.
Juliet Kilo: You can’t even see me, let alone yourself.
“James Kirk.”
Spock snapped his head up, with his eyes narrowing on Kirk’s back, as the student cocked his head at their instructor.
“Yeah?”
“You’re presence is required in the principal’s office.”
Kirk did not appear particularly concerned as he grunted and shut down his computer. He was making his way out the door when Spock realised that he had forgotten a genuine textbook beside the monitor. Unfortunately, Kirk had already vacated the room before Spock could call out to him.
Spock turned the book in his hands, considering the title. World War III: Codes and Code Breaking. Strange - Spock did not recall his third-year WWIII class requiring such a text. Perhaps it was a special interest.
Spock inwardly shrugged, and tucked the book into his bag. He would deliver it to Gaila, who would likely see Kirk before he did.
You can’t even see me...
A hasty look back to Spock’s monitor revealed Juliet to be offline. Spock’s brow furrowed slightly as he considered her parting words - philosophy had never been his forte. Even when his thoughts bled into the liberal spectrum, Spock still had trouble deciphering veiled phrases. Although what Spock did register was Juliet’s express intent to change his perspective on... something.
Specifics unknown.
***
Perhaps Spock’s cognisance had been expanded on some level. Lunch began to feel like a panoramic view of the mess hall. Spock now reflexively took note of the manner which people eyed him and whispered, or sent hopeful smiles his way, while still averting their eyes. Spock was reminded of the minor paranoia he had experienced upon coming to Earth for freshman year of Starfleet Preparatory. Before everyone had realised ‘who he was’.
There was only one student who thoroughly ignored him. One person who had the perplexing power to make Spock feel like a specimen beneath a microscope. And yet, James Kirk did not even appear even slightly concerned regarding his effect on Spock.
Instead, Kirk tended to slink by their table and find an empty spot near the windows. He would drop his bag loudly on the floor, slump into a chair, and pull out a PADD to study. He rarely socialised, unless it was with Gaila - and it was always her who approached him.
Today’s lunch period began in that same customary fashion. Kirk swept past them without care.
“Jimmy!” Gaila called from her seat beside Spock.
Kirk paused and turned, silently regarding Gaila with an inclined chin.
Gaila leaned in with a mischievous smile. “I heard you were called to the principal’s office a couple of days ago.”
“You heard right.” He turned.
“Wait, you can’t just leave it at that.” There was a distinct hunger in Gaila’s voice. She was rather fond of gossip. “Are you in trouble?”
Kirk leaned his hip against the table. He looked down, and gave Gaila his full attention. “Always.”
Spock could not discern if Kirk was speaking in jest, but that cryptic curve had graced his lips once more.
Gaila smacked him lightly on the hip. “Be serious!”
There was a distinct flash of blue behind thick lenses, indicating an eye roll. “Pike tried to call me up on my, um, study aid services. Naturally he had fuck-all for proof. It was just a load of bullshit.”
“Oh, Jimmy.”
“It’s fine, Red. Your paper’ll get written.”
“You know I’m not worried about that,” Gaila admonished him with a pout, and stood. Her fingers went to Kirk’s glasses in a gesture that Spock realised was habitual; as if she had done it several times before. Kirk didn’t bother to evade, and his face was exposed once more. Gaila frowned. “Why do you wear these things?”
His eyebrows arched, and his eyes danced in some private merriment. “I like ‘em.”
“But they’re just awful, baby.”
“Well then it’s lucky you’re not wearing them.”
“You won’t be allowed to wear them, once you take Command track. You’ll have to get the surgery, then. You do know it’s painless, right?”
Kirk scrunched his nose, and Spock was momentarily taken aback by the juvenile gesture. “I hate doctors. I’ll avoid it as long as possible. Anyway, you can get away with so much more when you wear glasses. No one really sees you.”
Gaila’s voice neared a purr. “Is that how you manage to be so naughty all the time?”
Only Spock heard Nyota’s groan.
Kirk snorted the barest laugh. “Obviously.”
Spock had not realised that his tongue had deceived him with speech, until it was too late. “You would do well to err on the side of caution, Mr. Kirk. Should you be exposed, the probability is high that you will face expulsion.”
The look Kirk cast over Gaila’s shoulder easily equated with being showered by hard, frigid hail. “And you would give a fuck about someone other than yourself, why?” Kirk’s lackadaisical tone did not warm the chill in his expressive eyes.
A jagged shiver snapped down Spock’s spine. His lips parted, and he inwardly floundered for a reply. Distantly he recognised Nyota’s gasp, and Gaila’s admonishment of Kirk.
Spock could only stare as Kirk yanked his glasses down and stalked away.
No one really sees you.
***Spock: What have I done to give you the impression that I have an unsatisfactory personality?
Juliet Kilo: It’s not what you’ve done - it’s what you haven’t done.
Spock: I do not follow.
Juliet Kilo: You don’t do anything for anyone.
Spock: That is not true.
Juliet Kilo: Really? When was the last time you nodded at one of those fangirls who say good morning to you?
Spock: It is not a Vulcan custom to bid someone a pleasant hour of daylight.
Juliet Kilo: You’re not on Vulcan. Would it really hurt your pride to say hello - to smile? When was the last time you put that infamous brain to use and actually tutored people?
Spock: I am busy with my own studies.
Juliet Kilo: The hell you are. Like I said, you’re a coward.
Spock: I am not.
Juliet Kilo: You are. You’re afraid to show people that you’re something more than a pristine, top of the line computer.
Spock: How do you know there is something more in me?
Juliet Kilo: Because that’s the only way we’re all the same.
Spock: Poetic.
Juliet Kilo: Whatever.
***
“Is that your assignment or someone else’s?” Spock inquired without meaning to. Much to his dismay, Spock found himself speaking to James Kirk when conversation was totally unnecessary. He felt like a fool for it; and yet he continued to do things like approach the student in the library, while he was obviously working alone.
Kirk did not flinch at Spock’s approach. He did not look up from his PADD. “What’s it t’you?”
Spock replied a bit too quickly. “Nothing, of course,” and resisted the urge to shift from one foot to another. It would not bode well to sit down with Kirk. He had no interest in doing so, anyway; Spock would merely be ignored, as he consistently was.
So he stood there, unsure of whether to stay or go, or what to say. Spock was not a particularly talented conversationalist.
Eventually Kirk tossed his stylus to the table and looked up. “Do you want something? What are you even doing in the library? You never hang out h -”
Something flickered across Kirk’s face. For a moment he chewed at his bottom lip, as if halting whatever words might burst through.
Spock’s gaze flitted to his feet. “I am tutoring a Sophomore in chemistry.”
Eyebrows jerked up beneath haphazard bangs. “Since when do you, of all people, lift a finger to help a lowly Sophomore?”
Spock frowned. “You are also surprised.”
“Also?”
“Someone else - no matter.” Spock felt increasingly annoyed by Kirk’s presence, and yet he did not back away. “Did Gaila return your textbook?”
“What? Oh - uh, yeah.”
Spock nodded stiffly. Kirk continued to look up at him, unblinking. He appeared rather imposing sitting there, Spock realised. Odd, as from what Spock had gathered, Kirk was five-foot-six or seven. Barely taller than Gaila. Naturally he had not taken specific note, it was more out of general observation that had Spock catalogued their considerable height difference.
“The text regarded the utilisation of code speech in World War III, did it not? That was not required reading for third year Earth history.” Was this what Humans deemed as ‘rambling’? Was Spock rambling? Was it possible for a Vulcan to do so? Spock could feel his ears burning. ”But a fascinating topic of study, certainly.”
Kirk blinked. His nails thrummed a rapid beat on the tabletop. “I like puzzles.”
“As do I.”
***Spock: Who are you?
Juliet Kilo: Why the fuck do you care?
Spock: Perhaps it is you who are afraid to show your true self.
Juliet Kilo: I’m not afraid. I just don’t need the drama.
Spock: You insinuate that your identity is controversial.
Juliet Kilo: It’s not.
Spock: Then you may reveal yourself.
Juliet Kilo: No. Just leave it. I’m done with this anyway.
Spock: Now it is you who runs.
“Fuck -”
Spock aimed a narrow look at Kirk, who turned to Spock in tandem.
“...ing matrixes,” Kirk finished slowly. “They’re pissing me off.”
“Indeed?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled; returning his attention to his assignment. For the first time in Spock’s memory, Kirk wore a frown.
Later, when class had concluded and everyone filed from the room, Spock remained behind. The probability was meagre that searching the name ‘Juliet Kilo’ in Earth’s internet database would shed any light on his situation, but Spock needed to know. If Juliet was speaking the truth - and she always had - she was finished with him. Spock’s inquiries into her identity had made her genuinely nervous, which only further piqued his interest.
Who was this person? In the privacy of Spock’s thoughts, he could admit that in the beginning he had been illogically angry with this anonymous bully; for speaking untruths and attacking his personality when she did not know him. But then, perhaps Juliet did know him. It would explain how... observant she had been time and again, even when Spock had refused to acknowledge it.
And perhaps Spock was not so averse to her company now. No one spoke to him like Juliet did. Whether or not he agreed with everything she said was another matter. The begrudging fact was that no one was as open with Spock as Juliet; and Spock did not feel the need to be polite with her at all times.
Spock wondered if this was a bizarre form of Stockholm syndrome.
It was complicated.
Spock searched the name, and it became more convoluted. The first page of results pointed entirely to the International Phonetic Alphabet, a form of code communication often used in Starfleet and past military organisations. Codes. A faint siren of yellow alert echoed in the back of Spock’s mind as he opened the first link.
Now that Spock knew what he was looking at, his own memory supplied the remainder of the information. It took seconds to bring the puzzle together. Each piece collided and fit, and Spock felt more like an imbecile than he ever had. How had he not made the connection from the beginning?
Juliet Kilo. The letters J and K. James Kirk.
This was a Red Alert.
***
“I know who you are.”
Spock kept a steely eye on Kirk, even though his hands threatened to shake. He had caught sight of Kirk amongst the sea of students in navy and silver - team colours - and had quickly excused himself to take chase. The home game had already kicked off, and the yells of support from both schools was almost deafening.
Still, Kirk froze in a way that indicated he had certainly heard Spock’s declaration. Then his shoulders slumped in nonchalance, and his hands dove into the pockets of his low-slung jeans.
“Yes, we have met,” Kirk said low enough that Spock had to lean in to hear.
Spock narrowed his gaze. His heart beat in time with the booming marching drum - or perhaps the band was not playing at all. “You are Juliet Kilo.”
It had been said. There could be no denying it. Spock was prepared to argue.
Kirk did not move. He did not blink or shift or even breathe. “And? What do you want?”
Spock inwardly sputtered in confusion. Outwardly, his lips tightened. “And I would appreciate an explanation.”
That earned a harsh laugh from Kirk. He was smiling now, but in the way that a piranha or a hyena bared its teeth. Kirk shook his head and turned on his heel, heading towards the parking lot.
It took a moment for Spock to realise he had been shunned. No one dared turn their back to him so rudely, and Kirk did it with a smile. Of all the -
Spock caught up with Kirk in long, loping strides. Face set in sober lines, Spock clamped onto Jim’s arm and yanked him beneath the shadowed bleachers. Kirk’s struggles were negligible against Spock’s strength, and his venomous curses were drowned out by the clamour of humanity above their heads. Spock whipped Kirk around to face him.
“You spent a great deal of energy attempting to incense me, and now you give me no valid justification.”
Kirk jerked out of Spock’s grasp, but only to take a step further into his personal space. Despite the darkness that masked Kirk’s features, his glare remained palpable. “Believe me - it took no exertion on my part to point out what a dick you are.”
Spock frowned and cocked his head. He was nothing but congenial to his peers. “Why?”
This innocent inquiry appeared to snap Kirk’s brittle control. He went toe to toe with Spock, their chests brushing as Kirk filled every inch of his meagre height. He snarled, “I told you - you pissed me off! I’m so fucking sick of Starfleet brats with their delusions of privilege. Real life isn’t like that. This fucking prep school is a bubble that's gonna pop the minute you step into the world, and then our lives will be left in the hands of a bunch of ignorant kids who only know how to ask daddy for help.”
Of course Spock knew that. He had no misconceptions about his future. He would achieve everything on his own. If his father’s name gave him inherent leverage, it was no intent of Spock’s to manipulate this benefit - but he could not change how people viewed him, either.
“Why did you single me out? You reached out to me, Kirk.”
Now Kirk stumbled back a step, his mouth moving before words even came. “I - I don’t know. You were a prime example, I guess.”
He used the past tense, Spock noted. As if some factor had changed. Suddenly Kirk did not sound as cocksure as he once had.
Spock pressed on, while one hand went to Kirk’s elbow in an uncharacteristically tactile plea.
“Tell me -”
“I don’t know!” Kirk’s voice cracked, and his eyes were wide and fathomless behind the shield of glasses. “Something about you -”
“What about me? You cannot simply do as you please and expect no one to questi -”
Kirk’s arms corded around Spock’s neck like a vice and pulled him forward, as Kirk went to his toes and sealed his mouth to Spock’s. The unexpected contact has Spock jerking, but strong fingers fisted in his hair and goaded him on. Spock’s hands remained clenched at his sides, even as his lips went plaint and giving. One part of his body refused to relent to the wiry frame arched against him, even when another aspect of him desired to plunge his tongue between Kirk’s lush lips.
Then Kirk’s palms cupped Spock’s face, and his mouth was ravaged with unbidden nips and bites and soothing lashes of tongue. Spock did not know when he began to reciprocate, but eventually he came to realise that they were not so much kissing, but suckling and twining tongues with primal grunts of encouragement.
Their noses bumped as Spock leaned forward and cupped Kirk’s firm rear in both hands and lifted him up. Kirk’s legs clamped around his hips without quarrel, and Spock’s cut-off hiss had nothing to do with the added weight and everything to do with the unquestionable length of Kirk’s erection pressing against Spock’s stomach.
Kirk’s mouth was wet and inviting when he finally parted his lips for Spock. The kiss was clumsy and nothing like Spock had imagined, yet everything he had not known he wished for. Kirk’s hands impatiently grappled with Spock’s cardigan as they yanked and pulled in their search for bare flesh. Spock was no help with his hands full, and so he indulged himself with a taste of the taut, pulsing line of Kirk’s neck. The curve of his jaw smelled of wood-smoke and rain.
The unbuttoning of Spock’s trousers had his mouth freezing at Kirk’s ear. “Kirk -“
“Call me Jim or shut up,” Kirk rasped. His voice was lower and more unsteady than Spock had ever heard it.
Before Spock could choose between his two available options, the decision was made for him. Kirk angled his chin and captured Spock’s lips with a finesse that had Spock reeling; floating on the feel of that enthusiastic tongue exploring his mouth, while those nimble fingers wedged between their bodies and tugged at Spock’s zipper.
Holding on to Kirk was like gripping a livewire. His movements refused to slow or cease. His hands found their way beneath Spock’s top, and his hem was immediately dragged up so that Kirk could rake his nails down the small of his back. Spock’s breath caught in his throat, and his fingertips dug into the perfect mounds of Kirk’s rear; he was completely unable to release him. Physical force would be necessary to detach Kirk from Spock’s possession.
“Y’get under m’skin,” Kirk murmured in Spock’s ear, and curled his tongue around the pointed tip.
Spock’s reply consisted of moaning obscenely into the smooth curve of Kirk’s neck, as he blindly undulated his hips against the straining bulge in Kirk’s jeans. Spock did not know what he craved - how could he, when he had never been involved in anything remotely like this? But he knew whatever it was he wished for, it involved Kirk.
No, there was one thing Spock craved.
Spock turned and slammed Kirk’s spine against one of the supporting beams. Kirk whimpered, but arched receptively against Spock’s stomach. Spock shifted Kirk’s weight just enough to bring a hand between them and pulled off Kirk’s glasses. Spock had not realised he had tossed them over his shoulder until Kirk was staring at him with wide eyes and wet, parted lips. Spock catalogued the thick lashes and the unnatural glimmer of Kirk’s gaze, like Bunsen burner blue.
They stared at each other for one quivering moment. A chorus of cheers thundered around them, and Kirk mouthed Spock’s name without a sound.
Spock’s heart crashed against his ribs, and he realised this was all he had required. He scooped up Kirk anew and practically purred against those swollen lips as Kirk frantically undid his own zipper. When the unmistakable outline of Kirk’s pulsing length slid against Spock’s bare belly, white-noise hissed in his ears.
If it was possible for reality to hurtle into fast-forward, it had. There was a desperate moment in which their bodies were so plastered together, that Kirk could not reach between them. A muttered curse and a grunt later, and Spock’s heavy erection was freed with calloused, quick fingers. Kirk gripped them both in an expert hold, as he squeezed and stroked and slicked precum between them.
Spock could only mindlessly thrust into Kirk’s fist and find that addictive mouth once more. Spock inhaled every delicate, shaking breath from Kirk’s lips as he lapped and licked every groan that tumbled from his tongue.
When even kissing was too much effort to concentrate on, their foreheads leaned against each others. Kirk’s damp brow pressed hard against Spock’s; both of them screwing their eyes shut as Kirk’s hand pumped quick and tight around their erections. Spock keened, rocking ineffectually forward as his knees buckled with the coiling current of electricity that tightened around his limbs and fingers and toes. His skin felt electric, as the fissures of heat grew to an impossible burn with every quick jerk of Kirk’s fist.
Kirk came first. He gasped against Spock’s ear as he leaned his full weight against Spock’s chest, and spilled warm and wet across his hand and Spock’s erection. The lazy ministrations of Kirk’s palm as it collected the dripping ejaculate and slicked it down Spock’s length was enough to burn every surviving circuit in Spock’s mind. The end came like a bolt of lightning to Spock’s core, as it sparked down his spine with a voltage that should have left him totally obliterated. Spock buried his face in Kirk’s neck, pushed him back against the support beam once more, and dearly hoped he didn’t drop him.
Spock felt golden; lit up from the inside out. But as the lingering sparks scattered and faded from his skin, he became increasingly aware of where they were and what they were doing - and, more importantly, who he was with.
With a clearing mind, Spock realised that he was out of his depth.
As if understanding his line of thought, Kirk let go of Spock without a sound; although Spock’s hands lingered at Kirk’s hips for a brief moment.
But dread crept around Spock’s heart like a vice, and soon he was turning and tucking himself away with heated cheeks and fumbling fingers. Noting that his cardigan was ruined, he found no other alternative but to unbutton it and leave it lying on the ground. The night air chilled his skin through his t-shirt, and Spock illogically wished he could still feel the echo of Kirk’s warmth against him.
Hoping his expression appeared placid, Spock faced Kirk.
Spock was greeted with a similarly attired Kirk. His sweater had also been discarded and his glasses were hooked in the collar of his v-neck. Kirk’s lips and cheeks remained flushed, and his eyes glinted in the darkness. Spock did not realise he was staring until Kirk opened his mouth, then closed it and approached Spock with an uncharacteristically tentative gait.
Their proximity was near enough that Spock could feel Kirk’s breath on his cheek. Kirk had yet to give any inclination as to his emotions. Spock wondered how garishly his own feelings were being portrayed across his features.
Levity passed across Kirk’s face, as his lips quirked and he clapped Spock jarringly on the shoulder. “Y’know, Spock - I think there’s hope for you yet.”
Kirk swept by, and Spock swivelled to stare over his shoulder in pure bewilderment.
“What is your meaning?” he called after him.
The reply was nearly carried away by the cheers above.
“Means I’ve seen a lot more to you than I thought I would.”
Spock watched Kirk retreat, and did not feel so very cold.
***
On the following Monday, Kirk did not attend classes. Nor was he in school the day after. It eventually seeped through the usual modes of gossip - Gaila - that Kirk had indeed been accused and expelled for his numerous breaches of school policy.
From what little Spock could gather, Kirk had been sent back to Iowa to live with his stepfather. He was not even attending high school; having tested out of the institution years prior, in order to simply prove his worth to Starfleet’s educational system. Without the future of Starfleet in Kirk’s sights, it appeared as though he was condemned to exist aimlessly until he was of a legal age.
This did not create a noticeable stir amongst Spock’s peers - sans those who required his services, and those who rejoiced in Kirk’s absence (Nyota) - as he had not been a particularly popular student. But that seat beside Spock in Computer Programming remained empty for the remainder of the semester, and Juliet never logged in to the school messaging system again. It was as if James Kirk had not existed.
Of course, this was not the case. Spock kept their brief encounter cemented in his thoughts. When he instinctively thought to close himself off from Nyota’s inquiries into his well-being, he mindfully pushed them aside and answered in honesty. He tutored those who required his aid. He joined the fencing club to create bonding time with Hikaru and Pavel. In one particularly painful experience, he even took Christine Chapel - a young Sophomore who had been, as Gaila termed it, mooning over him - to senior prom. In all of these things, Kirk acted as a driving force.
That knowing smirk and determined gaze never faded or dimmed in his memory. Not throughout the end of senior year, or the past two years of Starfleet.
Spock was, admittedly, rather pleased with his life. His career was unfolding as planned; he had peers who respected and liked him, and Spock had people whose company he enjoyed from time to time. He would not owe it all to Kirk - Spock felt he would be successful in all of his ventures whether or not he had known him - but Spock also recognised the difference Kirk had made in his life.
Wherever Kirk was now, Spock hoped he was... well, content.
“You still walk like you’ve got a pole up your ass.”
Spock froze on the manicured lawn of the school grounds. For a splinter of time he felt stuck, as if the Earth’s gravity had increased tenfold. Naturally, this was not the case. Spock willed himself to stiffly turn and confront that familiar, velvety voice.
He would barely have recognised James Kirk were it not for those unforgettable eyes.
Kirk was tall; perhaps just two inches shorter than Spock. Wide shoulders, slim hips, long legs clad in standard Academy trousers. Spock marvelled at the errant freckles and stubble, and the haphazard spikes of hair.
But it was the eyes that held him - their intensity hadn’t faded. Despite Kirk’s gaze remained alert and keen.
He appeared rather content.
It also seemed as if he had not lost his befuddling skill at leaving Spock speechless.
As if comprehending Spock’s stupefaction, Kirk shook with a silent laugh as he closed the space between them in a few strides. Before Spock could comprehend that he was not simply dreaming, Kirk cupped Spock’s face in his palms and placed an exuberant kiss firmly on his mouth. In daylight - in the middle of campus - in front of peers and professors.
Under the circumstances, Spock’s heart did not know whether to leap or sink. Instead it appeared to physically stop for a beat or two. Spock jerked back, with his fingers encircling Kirk’s wrists to bring them down. He didn’t release him.
Spock was secretly pleased when his voice came out strong and sure. “It appears that you remain perplexing and frustrating.”
“Always. And you’re still imperious and intimidating.”
Kirk needed to stop smiling like that. Spock’s gaze darted to their hands, as he let go.
“Apparently. How is it that you -”
“Down on their recruiting quota. You know how it goes.” Kirk shrugged, and Spock could not help but stare at the strong range of his shoulders. “Starfleet needs prodigies. Pike practically begged me to return.”
Their gazes snapped together. Spock’s throat tightened, and the sun seemed to brighten. “You are staying.”
Kirk nodded, as his eyes searched Spock’s. “Looks like it.”
Spock swallowed, and briefly entertained the theory that the air had become thinner. “I am - that is -”
“You really shove your foot in your mouth, don’t you?”
Spock would normally be insulted, and would then proceed to state the inaccuracy of such a ludicrous statement. But Kirk was grinning; his eyes were earnest, and his voice playful.
“You have a talent for seeing my poorer qualities,” Spock admitted quietly.
Kirk stepped further into his personal space, all swagger and smirks. He still smelled the same.
“I saw the good ones too,” Kirk murmured, his eyelashes drifting down. “Eventually. I still do.”
Their lips met, gentler than Spock imagined possible. And all he could think was, I see you, too.