Fanfiction: The Younger Model (rpf, R)
Title: The Younger Model
Rating: R
Pairing: Nimoy/Pine, off-screen Shatnoy
Words: ~2,500
Disclaimer: Not only is this not true, I'd never want it to be.
Summary: This isn't about Bill at all. Just keep telling yourself that, Leonard.
Warnings: Given my other contributions, I feel the need to warn for angst. And sex.
Notes: I posted prematurely, then updated a few hours later after starcrossedgirl's excellent beta. And obstinatrix continues to be an inspiration.
Written for a prompt at trek_rpf_kink that I can't find: Unrequited!Nimoy fucking Chris Pine as a substitute for Shatner.(Yay Kirk mixup!) Chris goes along with it because he has a massive crush on Nimoy. Bonus points for Leonard being very, very bossy and pushing Chris's head down while fucking him from behind.
Super bonus marshmallow points if he calls him 'Bill' (as a slip-up, not on purpose).
Pine's a good-looking kid.
That's as much as Leonard sees at first, though he's professional when they meet and when everyone expresses the great honor it is to be working with Leonard Nimoy Chris seems to mean it. But he knows someone else who does sincerity really well, when it gets him his way, and at first that's the only thing about him that reminds Leonard of Bill. The rest is a coincidence of casting, filling the shoes with younger feet. Younger, even, than when he and Bill started. It is how things work, now. Younger, louder, faster, more intense.
Leonard is retired.
It's not like working on Star Trek. Not even the movies. Hollywood has changed, and Leonard can't say that he minds much, and he tells himself it's because he likes to preserve the memory that it was something special. The truth is the memories would have been too much, and he doesn't particularly want to think about how they scraped through three seasons of an unwatched show that would shape the rest of his life.
But he likes it. Even the hours of makeup have a nostalgic air to them, which he realizes is silly. And he enjoys spending time with Zach, even though it's clear that Zach is pumping him for Spock tips. That's okay, though, because Leonard wants Spock to survive past him, and he's ready to pass him on. Spock would no longer be solely his even without his involvement, and Zach is collected and smart and just a little bit weird and Leonard respects that with a quiet regard that seems mutual.
Everyone's stand-offish in a way he knows is intended to be respectful. It isn't until they wrap the Delta Vega cave scene that he realizes that with Chris Pine, it's something else. Maybe it was the mind meld that did it, as if he believes in it after all these years. And before he goes to makeup to get the ears removed, he takes a moment to ask Chris if he wants to get a drink. The kid looks surprised, then smiles, flushing, and Leonard knows it's not just a drink he's going to be asking for.
“Wait for me,” he says, and Pine nods, eyes oddly huge in his too-regular face and Leonard's glad they're blue.
Chris suggests a nearby cafe that also serves beer and it tells Leonard one thing and reminds him of another: that Chris knows and is conscientious about his alcoholism and that he's third generation Hollywood, even if Leonard's been here longer. He's not some star-struck kid for all he's watching Leonard drink chai like he's suddenly been confronted by James Dean or Marilyn Monroe and is trying to hide the fact he doesn't know what to do with himself. He plays with the damp label of his microbrew and Leonard takes pity on him.
“You did a good job today, Chris,” he says. “Really good.”
Chris smiles. “Thanks, Mr. Nimoy.”
“Please. I thought we were done with that.”
The smile is oddly less self-conscious in the midst of Chris's embarrassment. “Sorry, Leonard. It's habit, or something.”
“You have a habit of calling me Mr. Nimoy?” Leonard raises an eyebrow as he says it, not realizing what he's doing until Chris grins and takes another sip of beer.
“You know what I mean,” he says. “I wasn't really expecting... this.” He gestures at the surroundings, upscale but not trendy enough to have tourists popping in to spot celebrities. “It's not every day you get to work with someone you've idolized since you were a kid. Or every day they ask you out for drinks.” He seems to have gotten a measure of control over himself, or maybe the alcohol’s loosened him up a bit. “Do you mind me saying that? The idol thing. I bet you get that all the time.”
Leonard shrugs. “You seem to be handling it pretty well. I think I can manage.”
“I just kept thinking today, 'he's comparing me to Shatner.' I mean everyone is, I knew that when I signed on. You were the only one I was worried about, though.”
“You're not Bill Shatner,” Leonard says, but there's a warmth in his voice that makes it clear it's not an insult. Bill hasn't spoken to him since shooting started, and Leonard knows he'll come around eventually, but he tells himself he's invited Chris out to prove to himself that this is not about Bill at all. “You're doing fine. People will accept you on your own merits, the merits of the character.”
“There wouldn't be any Kirk and Spock if it wasn't for you guys, though,” says Chris. “I'm just along for the ride. You guys are, like, epic.”
At one point he puts his hand on top of Chris's where it's resting on the table and Chris smiles again, and it's beautiful, and Leonard sees confirmation of the thing he's suspected and knows what's going to happen even if Chris doesn't. He rubs the back of the hand with a thumb and feels like a dirty old man, except Chris's breath hitches and his blue eyes open wide.
“Another beer?” Leonard asks smoothly, and Chris shakes his head no. He's staring at Leonard's hand, skin looser than it used to be but the fingers still long and knowing.
“You want to go to my place?” Chris asks, and almost manages a sort of cocky bravado. He could pass it off as a joke if Leonard refused.
Leonard pays for their drinks and Chris drives them to a pretty decent apartment in an almost-decent part of town. No one's around to see them, but it's dark anyway, and Leonard's not sure he cares except that it might be bad for the kid. Who flips on the lights, tosses his keys on the counter, and turns to Leonard with his hands shoved uncomfortably in his pockets.
“Can I get you something to drink? Um, water, orange juice...”
“No.” Leonard steps forward, closing the distance between them. “Is that what you invited me over for?”
Chris grins sheepishly, ducking his head, and Leonard reaches out to palm Chris’ chin, forcing him to meet his eyes “We don't have to do this,” he says, and Chris blushes.
“It's not that. I've just never...”
Leonard can't imagine why it would be him, of all people, that Chris Pine would experiment with. But he, too, once thought he had an “exception,” that one man who represented “if.” He'd thought his was Bill. He knows now that Bill represented just another road he hadn't taken, another possibility, having little to do with Bill at all. Maybe he's Chris's.
There's some cosmic irony for you, he thinks.
“It's okay,” he soothes. “I'll show you.”
Chris swallows and nods, and then, both sudden and slowly he's being kissed. As if he's a girl, as if Chris is making the first move, and Leonard pushes him back against the counter and kisses him harder, the taste of beer bringing back unpleasant memories as well as a sharp pang of desire he channels a different way, instead of trying to shove it aside. After a moment Chris gets it, and he's kissing him back in earnest, his body squirming against Leonard's and that's good because Leonard isn’t as young as he used to be and he needs all the help he can get. Chris's hands settle gingerly on his waist and Leonard takes one and moves it to his back, the other between them and Chris gasps into his mouth as Leonard grows hard under his hand.
Chris doesn't require any encouragement after that, stroking him expertly through his pants as Leonard's lips travel along his jaw to his ear, whispering “just like that” in a way that makes Chris shudder against him and Leonard hides his smile in the place between Chris's shoulder and neck. His body is so young and firm against him and he's gratified when Chris pushes him away gently to remove his t-shirt in one fluid motion. He's perfect, of course, trainer-approved and photo-ready, and Leonard runs his hands across the muscled torso before bending stiffly to tease a nipple with his lips, his tongue.
“Bed,” gasps Chris, and since that’s exactly what he wants, Leonard doesn’t mind the order. He follows to the bedroom, which is messy but not unclean, and he doesn't even have to ask Chris to open the drawer in the bedside table and rummage for condoms and lube. Luckily, the lights have a dimmer switch and Leonard turns them down to a less brutally honest setting . The kid's face is flushed, his eyes bright, as Leonard takes the things from him and sets them aside on the bed before leading Chris to lie down on his back. He leans over him, kissing him again before refocusing his attention to the smooth, firm skin of his body. He knows he's too old for Chris, too old for this, only he doesn't feel like it when he gets to the waistband of Chris's jeans, slides his fingers just under it, and Chris's hips rise towards him in response.
That's reason enough to move on to Chris's fly, to peel back the jeans, and pull them down his legs, which are equally perfect, and, once again, Leonard wonders why he's here, why he wants this so much.. The reason is too glaring, too obvious, so Leonard ignores it in favor of the hard flesh tenting Chris's boxers. He palms it gently and Chris’s hands scrabble at his turtleneck but Leonard isn’t quite ready for that, yet. He knows his own strengths, knows that even here, in this dim light, his hands and his voice are his best weapons, just as Chris’s are his youth, his unfamiliar eyes, his slightly too-familiar lips.
When Leonard removes his boxers, pulling them down and away, Chris leans up on his elbows to watch him. He appears a little anxious and a lot glazed over , like he’s convinced he’ll wake up any moment now. This probably won’t be the best sex of his life, Leonard thinks , but there’s something to be said for novelty.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and Chris smiles, then gasps as Leonard brushes his cock, lightly, teasingly. It jumps at the touch, and his fingers scrape through rough, wiry hair as he leans forward and murmurs, “I’m going to fuck you, Chris.” In spite of the blunt, crude language, his tone is as warm and inviting as the hand he wraps around Chris’s cock and he knows Chris won’t argue with it. He wants this now, has from the beginning, perhaps, and Leonard can’t say that he minds, since it’s what he too wants, needs, even. He wants a lot of things, some more than others, but this one’s right here, in front of him, and it looks like he’s going to get it. The best of all possible worlds, too: no strings, no relationship, and most of all he is young and attractive, all those things that Bill hasn’t been in decades.
He’s afraid Chris might come just from the hand job he’s giving him, so he stops with a final tug. “Turn around,” he says, his voice rough with arousal and when Chris looks like he might just protest, hands reaching for Leonard’s shirt he repeats it, louder, more firmly. The boy’s eyes widen again and god help him if Leonard doesn’t think it’s from lust.
Chris complies. Leonard pulls off his shirt, his slacks, then retrieves the lube from beside Chris, who’s crouched uncertainly on all fours, head craned to watch him over one shoulder. “Relax,” Leonard says, as he runs a hand down Chris’s back, feeling the bone and muscle , sharp underneath and suddenly, achingly, he wants something else entirely, unable to fool himself any longer.
But he’s here now, and hard, and when he works his fingers inside Chris gasps and trembles in some combination of pleasure and disbelief-whether at that very pleasure or at who’s giving it to him, Leonard’s not sure-and at the very least he can make this good for him.
“Oh god,” Chris moans, head arched back , gamely pushing himself further onto Leonard as he slides in. He’s a natural, it seems, and soon he’s groaning “harder, more,”, thrusting back against him and Leonard can’t stand the look in his eyes over his shoulder, yet can’t close his own for fear of what he might see, so he pushes Chris’s head down and tightens his grip on a smooth, perfect hip. That only makes Chris move against him, taking him deeper, and he’s so fucking compliant Leonard wonders how he ever thought to conveniently mistake him for someone else.
And he can’t believe this is the one he gets, that this is the man who comes home with him after all this time and as his eyes drift shut (against his volition) all he can think about is Bill fucking Shatner and his round face and fat ass and evidence of a whole life, written on his sagging flesh. This kid could fuck anyone he wants tonight and yet he’s here under Leonard Nimoy, a stand-in for a 77-year old self-described has been.
He thinks about the legions of soon-to-be fans who would envy him, if they knew, remembers that there are thousands more who would have envied him all these years, but they don’t know, and if they did they wouldn’t believe him, that tasting something only means you spend the next forty years knowing what you’re missing.
“Touch yourself,” he growls, and Chris hurries to comply, holding himself up with one hand, his face pressed into the pillow and Leonard just wants it over, now, and he gives in and lets this be about Bill, about trading him in for the younger model because it’s just too ridiculous otherwise. When Chris’s orgasm clenches around him, he follows not long after, the name on his lips more like a sob than a shout, a plea, because he can’t pretend this is him and he can’t pretend to want anything else.
He never should have done this, he realizes, less than a minute later, as they awkwardly part and Chris flops back onto the bed while Leonard hovers somewhere between sitting and leaning and feeling ashamed on every possible level.
When he’s finally able to look, Chris is watching him with an expression Leonard can’t read, but it’s not anger and it’s not exactly sadness. Chris licks his lips before speaking.
“Did you and Shatner...?”
“Once.”
Chris swallows, and Leonard regrets saying it. Not because he thinks Chris will run to the tabloids, but because he's already taken something away from the kid. He cleans up and gets dressed quietly. “It’s okay,” Chris says finally. “I kind of figured it was something like that, when you asked. It’s sort of flattering, if you look at it right.”
It’s certainly a brave try, and Leonard reaches out to touch a face that doesn’t really look like Bill’s at all, and there must be something in his expression because suddenly Chris smiles with all of Kirk’s cockiness and says, “Hey, and I got fucked by Leonard Nimoy.”
And Leonard will laugh at that when he gets home, laugh at himself, because hell, he hadn’t been the only one fucking a memory.
Rating: R
Pairing: Nimoy/Pine, off-screen Shatnoy
Words: ~2,500
Disclaimer: Not only is this not true, I'd never want it to be.
Summary: This isn't about Bill at all. Just keep telling yourself that, Leonard.
Warnings: Given my other contributions, I feel the need to warn for angst. And sex.
Notes: I posted prematurely, then updated a few hours later after starcrossedgirl's excellent beta. And obstinatrix continues to be an inspiration.
Written for a prompt at trek_rpf_kink that I can't find: Unrequited!Nimoy fucking Chris Pine as a substitute for Shatner.(Yay Kirk mixup!) Chris goes along with it because he has a massive crush on Nimoy. Bonus points for Leonard being very, very bossy and pushing Chris's head down while fucking him from behind.
Super bonus marshmallow points if he calls him 'Bill' (as a slip-up, not on purpose).
Pine's a good-looking kid.
That's as much as Leonard sees at first, though he's professional when they meet and when everyone expresses the great honor it is to be working with Leonard Nimoy Chris seems to mean it. But he knows someone else who does sincerity really well, when it gets him his way, and at first that's the only thing about him that reminds Leonard of Bill. The rest is a coincidence of casting, filling the shoes with younger feet. Younger, even, than when he and Bill started. It is how things work, now. Younger, louder, faster, more intense.
Leonard is retired.
It's not like working on Star Trek. Not even the movies. Hollywood has changed, and Leonard can't say that he minds much, and he tells himself it's because he likes to preserve the memory that it was something special. The truth is the memories would have been too much, and he doesn't particularly want to think about how they scraped through three seasons of an unwatched show that would shape the rest of his life.
But he likes it. Even the hours of makeup have a nostalgic air to them, which he realizes is silly. And he enjoys spending time with Zach, even though it's clear that Zach is pumping him for Spock tips. That's okay, though, because Leonard wants Spock to survive past him, and he's ready to pass him on. Spock would no longer be solely his even without his involvement, and Zach is collected and smart and just a little bit weird and Leonard respects that with a quiet regard that seems mutual.
Everyone's stand-offish in a way he knows is intended to be respectful. It isn't until they wrap the Delta Vega cave scene that he realizes that with Chris Pine, it's something else. Maybe it was the mind meld that did it, as if he believes in it after all these years. And before he goes to makeup to get the ears removed, he takes a moment to ask Chris if he wants to get a drink. The kid looks surprised, then smiles, flushing, and Leonard knows it's not just a drink he's going to be asking for.
“Wait for me,” he says, and Pine nods, eyes oddly huge in his too-regular face and Leonard's glad they're blue.
Chris suggests a nearby cafe that also serves beer and it tells Leonard one thing and reminds him of another: that Chris knows and is conscientious about his alcoholism and that he's third generation Hollywood, even if Leonard's been here longer. He's not some star-struck kid for all he's watching Leonard drink chai like he's suddenly been confronted by James Dean or Marilyn Monroe and is trying to hide the fact he doesn't know what to do with himself. He plays with the damp label of his microbrew and Leonard takes pity on him.
“You did a good job today, Chris,” he says. “Really good.”
Chris smiles. “Thanks, Mr. Nimoy.”
“Please. I thought we were done with that.”
The smile is oddly less self-conscious in the midst of Chris's embarrassment. “Sorry, Leonard. It's habit, or something.”
“You have a habit of calling me Mr. Nimoy?” Leonard raises an eyebrow as he says it, not realizing what he's doing until Chris grins and takes another sip of beer.
“You know what I mean,” he says. “I wasn't really expecting... this.” He gestures at the surroundings, upscale but not trendy enough to have tourists popping in to spot celebrities. “It's not every day you get to work with someone you've idolized since you were a kid. Or every day they ask you out for drinks.” He seems to have gotten a measure of control over himself, or maybe the alcohol’s loosened him up a bit. “Do you mind me saying that? The idol thing. I bet you get that all the time.”
Leonard shrugs. “You seem to be handling it pretty well. I think I can manage.”
“I just kept thinking today, 'he's comparing me to Shatner.' I mean everyone is, I knew that when I signed on. You were the only one I was worried about, though.”
“You're not Bill Shatner,” Leonard says, but there's a warmth in his voice that makes it clear it's not an insult. Bill hasn't spoken to him since shooting started, and Leonard knows he'll come around eventually, but he tells himself he's invited Chris out to prove to himself that this is not about Bill at all. “You're doing fine. People will accept you on your own merits, the merits of the character.”
“There wouldn't be any Kirk and Spock if it wasn't for you guys, though,” says Chris. “I'm just along for the ride. You guys are, like, epic.”
At one point he puts his hand on top of Chris's where it's resting on the table and Chris smiles again, and it's beautiful, and Leonard sees confirmation of the thing he's suspected and knows what's going to happen even if Chris doesn't. He rubs the back of the hand with a thumb and feels like a dirty old man, except Chris's breath hitches and his blue eyes open wide.
“Another beer?” Leonard asks smoothly, and Chris shakes his head no. He's staring at Leonard's hand, skin looser than it used to be but the fingers still long and knowing.
“You want to go to my place?” Chris asks, and almost manages a sort of cocky bravado. He could pass it off as a joke if Leonard refused.
Leonard pays for their drinks and Chris drives them to a pretty decent apartment in an almost-decent part of town. No one's around to see them, but it's dark anyway, and Leonard's not sure he cares except that it might be bad for the kid. Who flips on the lights, tosses his keys on the counter, and turns to Leonard with his hands shoved uncomfortably in his pockets.
“Can I get you something to drink? Um, water, orange juice...”
“No.” Leonard steps forward, closing the distance between them. “Is that what you invited me over for?”
Chris grins sheepishly, ducking his head, and Leonard reaches out to palm Chris’ chin, forcing him to meet his eyes “We don't have to do this,” he says, and Chris blushes.
“It's not that. I've just never...”
Leonard can't imagine why it would be him, of all people, that Chris Pine would experiment with. But he, too, once thought he had an “exception,” that one man who represented “if.” He'd thought his was Bill. He knows now that Bill represented just another road he hadn't taken, another possibility, having little to do with Bill at all. Maybe he's Chris's.
There's some cosmic irony for you, he thinks.
“It's okay,” he soothes. “I'll show you.”
Chris swallows and nods, and then, both sudden and slowly he's being kissed. As if he's a girl, as if Chris is making the first move, and Leonard pushes him back against the counter and kisses him harder, the taste of beer bringing back unpleasant memories as well as a sharp pang of desire he channels a different way, instead of trying to shove it aside. After a moment Chris gets it, and he's kissing him back in earnest, his body squirming against Leonard's and that's good because Leonard isn’t as young as he used to be and he needs all the help he can get. Chris's hands settle gingerly on his waist and Leonard takes one and moves it to his back, the other between them and Chris gasps into his mouth as Leonard grows hard under his hand.
Chris doesn't require any encouragement after that, stroking him expertly through his pants as Leonard's lips travel along his jaw to his ear, whispering “just like that” in a way that makes Chris shudder against him and Leonard hides his smile in the place between Chris's shoulder and neck. His body is so young and firm against him and he's gratified when Chris pushes him away gently to remove his t-shirt in one fluid motion. He's perfect, of course, trainer-approved and photo-ready, and Leonard runs his hands across the muscled torso before bending stiffly to tease a nipple with his lips, his tongue.
“Bed,” gasps Chris, and since that’s exactly what he wants, Leonard doesn’t mind the order. He follows to the bedroom, which is messy but not unclean, and he doesn't even have to ask Chris to open the drawer in the bedside table and rummage for condoms and lube. Luckily, the lights have a dimmer switch and Leonard turns them down to a less brutally honest setting . The kid's face is flushed, his eyes bright, as Leonard takes the things from him and sets them aside on the bed before leading Chris to lie down on his back. He leans over him, kissing him again before refocusing his attention to the smooth, firm skin of his body. He knows he's too old for Chris, too old for this, only he doesn't feel like it when he gets to the waistband of Chris's jeans, slides his fingers just under it, and Chris's hips rise towards him in response.
That's reason enough to move on to Chris's fly, to peel back the jeans, and pull them down his legs, which are equally perfect, and, once again, Leonard wonders why he's here, why he wants this so much.. The reason is too glaring, too obvious, so Leonard ignores it in favor of the hard flesh tenting Chris's boxers. He palms it gently and Chris’s hands scrabble at his turtleneck but Leonard isn’t quite ready for that, yet. He knows his own strengths, knows that even here, in this dim light, his hands and his voice are his best weapons, just as Chris’s are his youth, his unfamiliar eyes, his slightly too-familiar lips.
When Leonard removes his boxers, pulling them down and away, Chris leans up on his elbows to watch him. He appears a little anxious and a lot glazed over , like he’s convinced he’ll wake up any moment now. This probably won’t be the best sex of his life, Leonard thinks , but there’s something to be said for novelty.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and Chris smiles, then gasps as Leonard brushes his cock, lightly, teasingly. It jumps at the touch, and his fingers scrape through rough, wiry hair as he leans forward and murmurs, “I’m going to fuck you, Chris.” In spite of the blunt, crude language, his tone is as warm and inviting as the hand he wraps around Chris’s cock and he knows Chris won’t argue with it. He wants this now, has from the beginning, perhaps, and Leonard can’t say that he minds, since it’s what he too wants, needs, even. He wants a lot of things, some more than others, but this one’s right here, in front of him, and it looks like he’s going to get it. The best of all possible worlds, too: no strings, no relationship, and most of all he is young and attractive, all those things that Bill hasn’t been in decades.
He’s afraid Chris might come just from the hand job he’s giving him, so he stops with a final tug. “Turn around,” he says, his voice rough with arousal and when Chris looks like he might just protest, hands reaching for Leonard’s shirt he repeats it, louder, more firmly. The boy’s eyes widen again and god help him if Leonard doesn’t think it’s from lust.
Chris complies. Leonard pulls off his shirt, his slacks, then retrieves the lube from beside Chris, who’s crouched uncertainly on all fours, head craned to watch him over one shoulder. “Relax,” Leonard says, as he runs a hand down Chris’s back, feeling the bone and muscle , sharp underneath and suddenly, achingly, he wants something else entirely, unable to fool himself any longer.
But he’s here now, and hard, and when he works his fingers inside Chris gasps and trembles in some combination of pleasure and disbelief-whether at that very pleasure or at who’s giving it to him, Leonard’s not sure-and at the very least he can make this good for him.
“Oh god,” Chris moans, head arched back , gamely pushing himself further onto Leonard as he slides in. He’s a natural, it seems, and soon he’s groaning “harder, more,”, thrusting back against him and Leonard can’t stand the look in his eyes over his shoulder, yet can’t close his own for fear of what he might see, so he pushes Chris’s head down and tightens his grip on a smooth, perfect hip. That only makes Chris move against him, taking him deeper, and he’s so fucking compliant Leonard wonders how he ever thought to conveniently mistake him for someone else.
And he can’t believe this is the one he gets, that this is the man who comes home with him after all this time and as his eyes drift shut (against his volition) all he can think about is Bill fucking Shatner and his round face and fat ass and evidence of a whole life, written on his sagging flesh. This kid could fuck anyone he wants tonight and yet he’s here under Leonard Nimoy, a stand-in for a 77-year old self-described has been.
He thinks about the legions of soon-to-be fans who would envy him, if they knew, remembers that there are thousands more who would have envied him all these years, but they don’t know, and if they did they wouldn’t believe him, that tasting something only means you spend the next forty years knowing what you’re missing.
“Touch yourself,” he growls, and Chris hurries to comply, holding himself up with one hand, his face pressed into the pillow and Leonard just wants it over, now, and he gives in and lets this be about Bill, about trading him in for the younger model because it’s just too ridiculous otherwise. When Chris’s orgasm clenches around him, he follows not long after, the name on his lips more like a sob than a shout, a plea, because he can’t pretend this is him and he can’t pretend to want anything else.
He never should have done this, he realizes, less than a minute later, as they awkwardly part and Chris flops back onto the bed while Leonard hovers somewhere between sitting and leaning and feeling ashamed on every possible level.
When he’s finally able to look, Chris is watching him with an expression Leonard can’t read, but it’s not anger and it’s not exactly sadness. Chris licks his lips before speaking.
“Did you and Shatner...?”
“Once.”
Chris swallows, and Leonard regrets saying it. Not because he thinks Chris will run to the tabloids, but because he's already taken something away from the kid. He cleans up and gets dressed quietly. “It’s okay,” Chris says finally. “I kind of figured it was something like that, when you asked. It’s sort of flattering, if you look at it right.”
It’s certainly a brave try, and Leonard reaches out to touch a face that doesn’t really look like Bill’s at all, and there must be something in his expression because suddenly Chris smiles with all of Kirk’s cockiness and says, “Hey, and I got fucked by Leonard Nimoy.”
And Leonard will laugh at that when he gets home, laugh at himself, because hell, he hadn’t been the only one fucking a memory.