Fic: Hangover (Cont'd)
"Oh...I didn't know." Spock noted that Jim had seemed more bemused than surprised by his interjection.
"And why would you?" Spock felt his body tense; his grip on the small liqueur glass tightened. He had no desire to discuss his previous relationship with Nyota with anyone, Jim least of all, and felt uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation may be heading.
Jim smiled at him from across the table. "Then I guess you do know what I'm talking about."
He was grateful that Jim had decided not to enquire further about the cessation of the relationship and attempted to let his irritation go. He had inferred from what little had been said that Jim was bemoaning his own lack of an intimate relationship. Spock took another sip of his drink, eager for the return of his previously tranquil disposition, and replied, "Not exactly, Captain."
"Jim."
"Not exactly, Jim.” Spock considered the friends with benefits set up Jim had mentioned. It was not a term he had encountered before and although he was capable of making inferences, to do so without further data would be unscientific and, therefore, un-Vulcan. “I am unfamiliar with the kind of friend to which you refer."
"You mean you've never heard of friends with benefits?" Jim raised one eyebrow at this. Spock wondered if he was being intentionally mocked.
"No, I have not. What kind of benefits would you require?" Spock asked, as he began to speculate on the meaning behind the peculiar human expression Jim had used. The word ‘friendship’ by definition seemed to imply having the benefit of a friend. To require further benefits appeared, to Spock, unreasonable - but fittingly human. The look Jim wore then was one that Spock had seen before and recognised as mischievous - the man never did make things like this easy for his Vulcan shipmate.
"You know..."
Spock remained silent for a moment, eyebrow slightly raised in question. This was often a successful method in persuading humans, in particular the Captain and Dr. McCoy, to elaborate upon their use of an idiom that he found inadequate or illogical. "I do not know; if I did, I would not be asking the question."
"Okay," Jim started and leaned forward across the table, towards Spock. His voice was lowered as though he were about the share a secret. "You and I are friends, right?"
Though phrased as a question, Spock was certain that this was, in fact, more of an assertion; a statement accompanied by the expectation of agreement. It was an illogical use of rhetoric he’d noticed was often applied by humans speaking in Standard, encompassing their inherent desire for reassurance. Nevertheless, Spock had been somewhat taken aback by Jim’s words; disarmed. Whether this was because Jim - his Captain, a man whom he had grown to respect - considered him a friend or simply because, at that moment, he realised he had never before been referred to as ‘friends’ with anyone, he was unsure. After a brief pause to assemble his thoughts, he agreed, "Yes."
"Well, what if we were to remain friends but also have...an arrangement."
Spock felt himself leaning toward Jim and mimicking his hushed tone. He was intrigued by Jim’s as-yet mysterious proposition. “What kind of arrangement?"
Jim let out a small chuckle and glanced at the mostly empty tables around them. The query seemed to both amuse him and make him uncomfortable. "Come on, Spock, you know what I mean."
Spock’s curiosity had been aroused by Jim’s continued evasion of a topic he himself had risen. "I assure you that I do not, Jim, or I would refrain from asking you such questions."
"Okay then,” Jim’s smile disappeared for a moment; he took a quick sip of his drink. “I'll spell it out for you."
Spock had felt, then, that it was his turn to be mischievous. "As I have generally no trouble in spelling Terran words, such a detailed elaboration will not be necessary."
Jim pursed his lips, ostensibly in acknowledgement of Spock’s own brand of sarcasm, before replying. "Then I'll just explain, shall I?"
“Please do.” Although Spock doubted he’d ever admit it outwardly, he enjoyed this kind of banter with humans - Jim, in particular. A sadistic part of him enjoyed the reaction he could elicit by forcing them to articulate the true meaning behind their words. He’d become aware at an early age, from his Mother’s speech patterns and the Terran literature she shared with him, that humans were likely to utilise allegory and metaphor rather than simply stating what they meant. It was a trait he found infuriating and endearing in equal measure.
Jim leaned further forward before continuing; his voice remained hushed and an errant smile - one Spock had seen several times before, when Jim was employing his persuasive charm - played on his lips. “Like I said, we’re two friends; single, sexually active, attracted to one another but not necessarily requiring a relationship in the traditional sense - basically, friends with an arrangement to have no-strings sex when they feel like it.”
Spock raised an eyebrow as he pondered this for a moment. That such emotional beings would willingly eschew that which was held in such esteem - the notion of romantic love - in favour of baser urges was new and untested information. He sought clarification. “So, despite the nature of the relationship going beyond that of the traditional Platonic friendship, there is no requirement by either party for further emotional attachment than that which already exists.”
“Exactly.”
“Fascinating.”
Jim sat back in seat, appearing to relax, and finished his drink. Spock had taken a moment to look at the man - he found he could indeed appreciate Jim on a purely aesthetic level - and considered what he had just said - “...attracted to one another...” . This seemed to imply that he, too, was physically attracted to Spock. This was something he had not previously considered, but he found that the knowledge at that moment, coupled with the effect chocolate liqueur he continued to drink, sent a small thrill through his body.
“It would indeed seem to proffer a logical solution to a problem invariably faced by unitary, sexually mature adults when on long-term away missions such as ours.” Spock, again, considered not just his own experience of human emotion from coming into contact with the species, but the effect his human genes had on his own emotions. He was unable to control his feelings to the extent he wished. What if, upon entering such a relationship, he was unable to quell the desire for further emotional attachment? It seemed almost to be a challenge. And if Jim could manage it - such an emotionally charged being - then, surely, Spock of Vulcan, son of Sarek, could, too?
“Well, I’m glad you think so, Commander Spock.” Jim sat back in his seat and looked to Spock to be exceedingly pleased with himself.
Spock sipped on his drink as he continued to consider this arrangement. His reasoning was sound - it would be a fitting test of his abilities, his values as a Vulcan. He regarded Jim intently, watched the light dance in his blue eyes, the ever present upward curve of his mouth in that which was most forbidden - a smile. He felt excitement at the thought of having cause to smile himself and, aware of his weakened defences, made a feeble attempt to push the feeling it away. There was just one further clarification to be made - was Jim in fact asking him to engage in this ‘friends with benefits’ relationship or had he simply been explaining the concept to Spock, employing the terms ‘you’, ‘I’ and ‘we’ by way of example?
He had found that he feared the answer - the possibility of rejection - should he seek this clarification. Instead, emboldened by the effects of the liqueur; by the possibilities, he inclined his head and said simply, “I accept.”
“Come again?” Jim, it seemed, sought clarification himself.
“I accept your proposal that we become ‘friends with benefits’. It is indeed an arrangement that would be both practical and agreeable.”
“Practical and agreeable,” Jim repeated, slowly. His smile had gone - though he was not frowning - and his eyes were fixed on Spock’s.
“Indeed.” Spock said calmly, realising that Jim seemed a little surprised by his answer. The possibility of rejection still existed, he knew, but if Jim had not been seeking to engage him in said arrangement, now would surely be the time to elucidate. Keen to preserve his equanimity, Spock finished his own drink and thought of a way in which he might establish Jim’s true intent.
The Vulcan slowly laid a hand flat on the table between them, shifted towards the edge of his seat and took a deep, calming breath. “May I get you another drink, Jim?”
Although it took a moment for him to answer - and for his smile to return - Jim had, indeed, accepted.
As Spock attempted again to blink awake, mind catching up with body, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings and sat up, slowly, reaching a hand to touch his aching temple.
“Well, good morning, Commander Spock.” Towel wrapped around his waist, Jim appeared in Spock’s peripheral vision, droplets of water running rivulets down his chest, hair water-dark and dishevelled. “I wasn’t sure of the correct modus operandi for waking a sleeping Vulcan...you seemed pretty out of it.”
Spock simply looked up at Jim, further floods of memory rushing back to him, still somewhat indistinct but, suddenly, undeniable. He realised that the regret he felt was for having consumed too much of the chocolate liqueur and nothing else.
“I was just about to get some coffee,” Jim approached, small smile turning his lips upwards as he spoke. “Want some?”
"And why would you?" Spock felt his body tense; his grip on the small liqueur glass tightened. He had no desire to discuss his previous relationship with Nyota with anyone, Jim least of all, and felt uncomfortable with the direction in which the conversation may be heading.
Jim smiled at him from across the table. "Then I guess you do know what I'm talking about."
He was grateful that Jim had decided not to enquire further about the cessation of the relationship and attempted to let his irritation go. He had inferred from what little had been said that Jim was bemoaning his own lack of an intimate relationship. Spock took another sip of his drink, eager for the return of his previously tranquil disposition, and replied, "Not exactly, Captain."
"Jim."
"Not exactly, Jim.” Spock considered the friends with benefits set up Jim had mentioned. It was not a term he had encountered before and although he was capable of making inferences, to do so without further data would be unscientific and, therefore, un-Vulcan. “I am unfamiliar with the kind of friend to which you refer."
"You mean you've never heard of friends with benefits?" Jim raised one eyebrow at this. Spock wondered if he was being intentionally mocked.
"No, I have not. What kind of benefits would you require?" Spock asked, as he began to speculate on the meaning behind the peculiar human expression Jim had used. The word ‘friendship’ by definition seemed to imply having the benefit of a friend. To require further benefits appeared, to Spock, unreasonable - but fittingly human. The look Jim wore then was one that Spock had seen before and recognised as mischievous - the man never did make things like this easy for his Vulcan shipmate.
"You know..."
Spock remained silent for a moment, eyebrow slightly raised in question. This was often a successful method in persuading humans, in particular the Captain and Dr. McCoy, to elaborate upon their use of an idiom that he found inadequate or illogical. "I do not know; if I did, I would not be asking the question."
"Okay," Jim started and leaned forward across the table, towards Spock. His voice was lowered as though he were about the share a secret. "You and I are friends, right?"
Though phrased as a question, Spock was certain that this was, in fact, more of an assertion; a statement accompanied by the expectation of agreement. It was an illogical use of rhetoric he’d noticed was often applied by humans speaking in Standard, encompassing their inherent desire for reassurance. Nevertheless, Spock had been somewhat taken aback by Jim’s words; disarmed. Whether this was because Jim - his Captain, a man whom he had grown to respect - considered him a friend or simply because, at that moment, he realised he had never before been referred to as ‘friends’ with anyone, he was unsure. After a brief pause to assemble his thoughts, he agreed, "Yes."
"Well, what if we were to remain friends but also have...an arrangement."
Spock felt himself leaning toward Jim and mimicking his hushed tone. He was intrigued by Jim’s as-yet mysterious proposition. “What kind of arrangement?"
Jim let out a small chuckle and glanced at the mostly empty tables around them. The query seemed to both amuse him and make him uncomfortable. "Come on, Spock, you know what I mean."
Spock’s curiosity had been aroused by Jim’s continued evasion of a topic he himself had risen. "I assure you that I do not, Jim, or I would refrain from asking you such questions."
"Okay then,” Jim’s smile disappeared for a moment; he took a quick sip of his drink. “I'll spell it out for you."
Spock had felt, then, that it was his turn to be mischievous. "As I have generally no trouble in spelling Terran words, such a detailed elaboration will not be necessary."
Jim pursed his lips, ostensibly in acknowledgement of Spock’s own brand of sarcasm, before replying. "Then I'll just explain, shall I?"
“Please do.” Although Spock doubted he’d ever admit it outwardly, he enjoyed this kind of banter with humans - Jim, in particular. A sadistic part of him enjoyed the reaction he could elicit by forcing them to articulate the true meaning behind their words. He’d become aware at an early age, from his Mother’s speech patterns and the Terran literature she shared with him, that humans were likely to utilise allegory and metaphor rather than simply stating what they meant. It was a trait he found infuriating and endearing in equal measure.
Jim leaned further forward before continuing; his voice remained hushed and an errant smile - one Spock had seen several times before, when Jim was employing his persuasive charm - played on his lips. “Like I said, we’re two friends; single, sexually active, attracted to one another but not necessarily requiring a relationship in the traditional sense - basically, friends with an arrangement to have no-strings sex when they feel like it.”
Spock raised an eyebrow as he pondered this for a moment. That such emotional beings would willingly eschew that which was held in such esteem - the notion of romantic love - in favour of baser urges was new and untested information. He sought clarification. “So, despite the nature of the relationship going beyond that of the traditional Platonic friendship, there is no requirement by either party for further emotional attachment than that which already exists.”
“Exactly.”
“Fascinating.”
Jim sat back in seat, appearing to relax, and finished his drink. Spock had taken a moment to look at the man - he found he could indeed appreciate Jim on a purely aesthetic level - and considered what he had just said - “...attracted to one another...” . This seemed to imply that he, too, was physically attracted to Spock. This was something he had not previously considered, but he found that the knowledge at that moment, coupled with the effect chocolate liqueur he continued to drink, sent a small thrill through his body.
“It would indeed seem to proffer a logical solution to a problem invariably faced by unitary, sexually mature adults when on long-term away missions such as ours.” Spock, again, considered not just his own experience of human emotion from coming into contact with the species, but the effect his human genes had on his own emotions. He was unable to control his feelings to the extent he wished. What if, upon entering such a relationship, he was unable to quell the desire for further emotional attachment? It seemed almost to be a challenge. And if Jim could manage it - such an emotionally charged being - then, surely, Spock of Vulcan, son of Sarek, could, too?
“Well, I’m glad you think so, Commander Spock.” Jim sat back in his seat and looked to Spock to be exceedingly pleased with himself.
Spock sipped on his drink as he continued to consider this arrangement. His reasoning was sound - it would be a fitting test of his abilities, his values as a Vulcan. He regarded Jim intently, watched the light dance in his blue eyes, the ever present upward curve of his mouth in that which was most forbidden - a smile. He felt excitement at the thought of having cause to smile himself and, aware of his weakened defences, made a feeble attempt to push the feeling it away. There was just one further clarification to be made - was Jim in fact asking him to engage in this ‘friends with benefits’ relationship or had he simply been explaining the concept to Spock, employing the terms ‘you’, ‘I’ and ‘we’ by way of example?
He had found that he feared the answer - the possibility of rejection - should he seek this clarification. Instead, emboldened by the effects of the liqueur; by the possibilities, he inclined his head and said simply, “I accept.”
“Come again?” Jim, it seemed, sought clarification himself.
“I accept your proposal that we become ‘friends with benefits’. It is indeed an arrangement that would be both practical and agreeable.”
“Practical and agreeable,” Jim repeated, slowly. His smile had gone - though he was not frowning - and his eyes were fixed on Spock’s.
“Indeed.” Spock said calmly, realising that Jim seemed a little surprised by his answer. The possibility of rejection still existed, he knew, but if Jim had not been seeking to engage him in said arrangement, now would surely be the time to elucidate. Keen to preserve his equanimity, Spock finished his own drink and thought of a way in which he might establish Jim’s true intent.
The Vulcan slowly laid a hand flat on the table between them, shifted towards the edge of his seat and took a deep, calming breath. “May I get you another drink, Jim?”
Although it took a moment for him to answer - and for his smile to return - Jim had, indeed, accepted.
As Spock attempted again to blink awake, mind catching up with body, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings and sat up, slowly, reaching a hand to touch his aching temple.
“Well, good morning, Commander Spock.” Towel wrapped around his waist, Jim appeared in Spock’s peripheral vision, droplets of water running rivulets down his chest, hair water-dark and dishevelled. “I wasn’t sure of the correct modus operandi for waking a sleeping Vulcan...you seemed pretty out of it.”
Spock simply looked up at Jim, further floods of memory rushing back to him, still somewhat indistinct but, suddenly, undeniable. He realised that the regret he felt was for having consumed too much of the chocolate liqueur and nothing else.
“I was just about to get some coffee,” Jim approached, small smile turning his lips upwards as he spoke. “Want some?”