Fic: Homecoming, 3/3
Title: Homecoming, Part 3
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: This is the fic I've written to complete a bingo line for trek_crackbingo plus indulge myself in a bunch of K/S cliches, so highlight the following to view prompts/cliches fulfilled to some degree - Love Letters, Holidays, Wild Card (I picked Amnesia, and threw in kid!fic with a garnish of Mpreg), Tentacles - scary, and Dad Dancing.
Word Count: This chapter, 7600
Summary: Jim wakes after an attack to find everything changed
For: awarrington
I arrive home and Spock's already waiting for me in the living room, more gorgeous in his uniform than is entirely fair. He's seated on the couch looking unflappable, one of my books open in his lap, his face composed but, now that I'm aware of it, I can feel his concern for me filtering through the bond and into my mind. It's so unselfish, that even though I'm worrying him and even if he is as reliant on our bond as Nyota seemed to think, it's all about me, not a shred of unease about what any of this means for him. I'm a contrary asshole because it only makes me madder and I point a finger at him accusingly from across the room as I walk towards him.
"You! You're the thing in my head!"
An eyebrow flicks upwards. "You are referring to our bond?"
"Damn skippy, I am. It didn't occur to you that I might like to be informed that you've got ready access to my mind?"
Spock closes the book, placing it on the low table in front of him. "You are intoxicated. Perhaps it would be worthwhile for us to leave this discussion until you are more able to participate in a sober manner."
"I'm sober enough." I'm standing over him, hands on my hips, glaring down at him in a way that seems to provoke the smallest touch of indulgence to filter through from him to me. "Oh, don't even think of humoring me, I have every right to be mad. None of you thought to remind me about the fact that we're mentally linked, right from the start? You don't get that this is a big deal for me? You must know my personal history, Spock, I wouldn't keep all that from the person I'm married to. You above all people should get why this is difficult for me to deal with."
"Jim -"
"You're supposed to love me so much and you don't even start to think about what this thing means for me. I don't appreciate it, not at all. "
I feel a mental flinch as he bristles on the couch, his eyes going hard. "Our bond is not a thing. As a matter of record, our particular bond is rare, and highly respected in Vulcan culture. We have been very fortunate in our finding of one another."
"Fortunate? You call this lucky? Because I don't feel very fucking lucky right now. I got mindraped by a goddamn monster and only now do I find out that you've been sneaking a grope of your own all along."
That one got to him and I wouldn't have known it to look at him, his eyes merely shifting from mine as he looks at the wall behind my shoulder and nods. It's so noble, so completely selfless in the way he bears my accusation with silent acceptance and a mind full of bewildered hurt. It makes me feel like a total bastard and the anger pours out of me like someone pulled the plug as I slump down on the couch next to him and rub over my mouth with my hands, wishing I could take the words back. "God, Spock. I'm sorry. You must know me well enough to realize I say shitty stuff that I don't necessarily mean when I'm mad."
A pause and then a touch at my knee, his fingers resting there gently. I look down at them, wondering if he's aware of the pulse of arousal they shoot up my thigh and into my nuts. "You are correct, I should have anticipated your unease with a bond you not made aware of. It is so much a part of me now that I am unable to think of it in anything but positive terms, and that, without it, I may have lost you . . ."
It's more than a thin mental thread now, a flood of love tinged with fear and a touch of panic, and I cover his hand with my own, wanting to comfort him. His eyes meet mine, unnerving in how opaque they are right now but I feel it, desire, want and physical need pouring off him at the touch of my skin against his own. I pull my hand away in a hurry, unsettled by such an intense reaction to a simple touch. "Maybe you're right, we should leave this till later because I feel like I keep screwing up. You didn't lose me, I'm here, I'm just, I don't know, not myself. So I'll probably keep screwing up till I get my memory back and I need you to give me some wriggle room on that."
"Of course. I have attempted to make allowances -"
"I get that, and I appreciate it." This is possibly the most mature conversation I've ever had in my life.
"But I must ask that you also make them on my behalf. That you have been so removed from me has been problematic. Nothing, I am sure, in comparison with those issues you must encounter daily -"
"I know this is tough on you. I'm sorry that I'm not him, Spock. I'm sorry I'm not your husband."
Warmth, and reassurance, a not-smile. "You are yourself, Jim, unchanged from the moment I first saw you. Make no mistake of it." He reaches out to pick up the book from the table, moving up off the couch to place it on a shelf before walking towards the door, turning back to me before he leaves. "It is likely that your consumption of alcohol has left you suffering low level dehydration. I will prepare us some tea before we continue with the discussion regarding our bond, and how we might best progress from this point forward."
Tea? Eugh. I watch him leave the room as I get to my feet, calling out after him as I follow. "Yeah, the tea's another thing we have got to talk about."
---
Jim
You accept that Vulcans make possessive, dominant lovers. I accept, further to our discussion on the matter last night, that it would be inappropriate of me to in any way seek to influence your eventual choice in the appointment of your personal assistant. I also note that your description of Lt. L DiMarco as 'a hot piece of ass' is potentially inaccurate, as I have not detected peculiar levels of heat radiation emanating from Lt. DiMarco's buttocks. You may wish to request that Lt. DiMarco submits to further testing on the matter prior to making your final decision.
I would not personally recommend that you take that course of action.
Spock
I laugh into my knuckles. I'm almost caught up on seventeen years' worth of love notes, all of them imbued with Spock's brand of wry humor and the persistence of his desire for me. Dominant lover. I read it over and grin, squirm in the leather chair in my den, ass hungry all of a sudden, clenching hard as my dick unfurls to press against the front of my pants. I try in complete futility to suppress it, still a little uncomfortable with the idea that Spock undoubtedly knows I'm getting horny, now that he's explained the bond more fully to me. Sucks that he gets more off it than I do off him, what with him being a telepath and me being about as telepathic as your average amoeba. I key up another file, wondering what this one will bring with it. I've jacked off to more than a few, his more descriptive notes that detail, word by word, precisely what he was planning to do with me that evening. It sounds like our sex life was lively, creative and extremely energetic, hell, even I miss it and I don't remember it. But some of the notes have been shot through with such longing when we've been separated by light years, or with such love, especially after key events such as our marriage or leading up to Gray's birth, when every word is laden with gratitude and reverence.
Jim
You are incorrect: My father does not view you as 'a lower form of life'. My father understands that you are a parent to his grandchildren, his son's bondmate, a member of his household and of the same species as his deceased wife.
I believe, however, that he may have concerns regarding the nature of your sense of humor. Such as it is.
Spock
My husband's a snarky bitch, but then I already suspected that and this is simply confirmation of the fact. I like him, more than I thought was possible. It's weird to be thinking of him as my husband at all, so used as I am to categorizing Spock neatly as Vulcan/Colleague/Uptight Jackass/Tentative Friend/Masturbation Material, depending on my frame of mind at the time. But over a month back at home with him now, sleeping in his bed, reading his notes and spending time with him and the kids, it's like the lines are blurring. He's becoming simply Spock, uncategorizable beyond the simple descriptor Husband that seems to cover him neatly.
Jim
One day into your journey towards Ibahn, and your husband misses you. It is distracting and unwelcome. Please immediately desist being missable.
I appreciate your compliance in this matter.
Spock
There's a holofile attached, a photo of an almost-smiling Lejiba holding Gray up, a much decorated sign in what I recognize now as Lejiba's handwriting held in Gray's chubby fists, We love you, Dad!!! Come Home Soon!! A lump the size of Jupiter settles in my throat, knowing I would've read this a few days before it all got stolen from me, and from them. I didn't know I'd ever be this wanted. I never realized that family life would be like this, that being needed and relied on could be as welcome as it is a burden to bear. I look into the eyes of a family that misses me. I can't close the file out, propping the PADD up on my desk and sitting back in my chair to look at the kids, knowing that, even if I don't love them in the same way that I used to, that they're a part of me now and that I could no more walk away from them than I could chew off my own legs. I have to make it work with Spock, even if it's looking increasingly unlikely that my missing memory engrams will ever be returned to me, the study of the squid coming up with no more than an enormous pile of finely-chopped calamari. I hate that I've missed out on so much. I can't miss out on any more simply because I'm scared shitless of something that I can't even put into words.
My door chimes and Pui-Shan carries Gray in, and he holds out his hands to me, bouncing up and down in her arms in excitement. That's never going to get old, this little soul being so totally overjoyed to see me, every single time. He grabs at my ears and DADADADAs against my forehead as I hold him tight against me and marvel at his solidity, in the miniature muscular frame beneath the drool-soaked bib and baby fat. Then his hand makes a grab at my eyebrow tugging a little and his fingers stretch out across my eye, his forefinger brushing over one point and it's like my mind's suddenly screwed into an intensely focused knot of contented-feeling Daddy Mine Banana Funny Milk before his hand moves on to smack at my cheek in glee.
"Whoa, Gray's a telepath?"
Pui-Shan looks concerned, a slight frown creasing the skin between her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"He just melded with me. A little bit."
"Gray, honey? Look at me, Gray - Did you meld with your daddy? Did you touch Daddy's mind?"
Gray laughs and claps his hands, blows a raspberry in my face. I blow one back. "Did we not know he's telepathic? I'm sure that's what it was."
She's smiling at Gray, his fingers wrapped tight around one of hers. "We had an idea that he might have the innate capability but it's highly unusual to manifest this early. Like, pretty much unheard of, the Vulcan Embassy's probably going to want to have him in for testing because untrained telepathy can be dangerous. Well, I guess I don't need to tell you that. You want to go to Grandpa's place for some special games, Gray? Would that be fun? You love your Grandpa, don't you?"
"Sarek's good with the kids?"
"Oh, sure. I get the impression he's much more relaxed with them than he ever was with Spock, but that's normal with grandparents, Vulcan or not. Sarek and Lejiba have, like, their own little mutual adoration society. He takes her out for lunch at a different restaurant every month and has been to every one of her recitals since she started playing, even the ones off-world. You're never going to be his favorite person but he dotes on the kids."
"Hah! I knew he didn't like me."
"I've heard that you didn't make the greatest first impression on him."
"I guess not." I rub my nose against Gray's as he gurgles at me and tries to poke my eye out. A telepathic baby, just when you don't think life's going to get any weirder than monster mind-sucking squids. I'm guessing complacency's no longer an option in my life, if it ever was.
"I'm taking Gray and Lejiba shopping later for party outfits. You want to tag along? I think Lejiba would like it if you did, not that pain of torture would get her to admit it."
"Party? What, Christmas?"
Pui-Shan sighs, groans, resting the heel of her hand against her forehead briefly. "I swear to God, that husband of yours is less empathic than a stick. I can't believe he didn't remind you this was coming up or think to ask if you'd want to cancel it this year. I mean, everyone would've understood if you had but it's a little late now. You guys have this huge Thanksgiving party here every year. It's a thing for anyone left in town not visiting family. Half of HQ and Spock's students will be here, all your friends. It's pretty legendary."
"But that's next week."
"It is. Hence the shopping trip."
"And I'm not going to recognize half the people there? Goddammit, Spock."
Her smile doesn't falter, much as her eyes pretty much slice me in two. "Gray, Daddy said a funny word that means he likes Pops very much. Right, Daddy?"
I nod, chastened, smile at Gray. "Right. Ever so much."
---
My eyes are out on stalks as Pui-Shan pats my back like she does when she's trying to make Gray burp, soothing my nerves as Lejiba turns in front of me in a dress that barely covers, well, anything important, way too much smooth purple skin on show.
"It's the fashion now, Admiral. Right, Lejiba?"
"I don't care about fashion."
"Awesome." I hold up a cobwebby thing that at least looks like it has sleeves. And a skirt. "So we can try this one next, right?"
She looks horrified, as if I suggested she should try on, I don't know, a dress made of tongue or something. "God, no. Just, you sit there and don't say anything, okay? And don't look at me. Watch Gray."
"Gray's sleeping, and I think it's my duty as your father to ensure that any clothes you wear before the age of eighteen at the very least cover both buttcheeks in their entirety. Here." I wave the cobwebby thing at her again. "At least try it. You've tried every other dress in the store on so far."
"Then leave, you don't have to stay. I don't know why you decided to butt in, anyway."
It feels like my smile's tattooed on my face, I've kept it there so long now by effort of will alone. "Of course I wanted to come, I love dress shopping more than life. Come on, try this one. For me?"
It's grabbed out of my hands with a frustrated grunt and she stomps off in her boots back into the private dressing booth. Pui-Shan even starts humming under her breath, patting at my back still like I'm teething. I glare at her and she smiles back at me innocently. "Having a good time?"
"if I want to bond with Lejiba, maybe I should just take her hoverscooter shopping or something."
Pui-Shan's eyebrows shoot up. "You think talking your fifteen year old daughter into hoverscooter ownership's a good idea? That's . . . interesting."
"I used to have a bike." I can tell I'm getting all dreamy-eyed and nostalgic for something that didn't seem like a big deal at the time. "It was so cool, I gave it up when I enlisted. Hey, maybe I should get another one, now I'm earthbound."
"Spock wouldn't approve. I thought Gray was supposed to be your mid-life crisis?"
"That's what Bones said." I look down at Gray sleeping in the buggy, hand clutching a dirty grey rag that I found out used to be the corner of one of Spock's robes. His cheeks are perfect half-globes, peachy and splotchy red with teething pains, his mouth puckered in sleep, his other hand a small pink starfish stretched out across his chest. Looking at him hurts. Physically hurts, like he's too perfect, like I'm looking directly into the sun and can't stop. His dark slashes of eyebrow and thick black sweep of lashes lying over each cheek remind me painfully of Spock and I can't help but reach out to trace a finger along one brow. He shifts in his sleep and Pui-Shan grabs my hand away,
"You wake him, you get to deal with mega-cranky baby for the next hour."
Lejiba steps back out, her legs way too long in a dress that's too short for my liking. But it covers her ass, and other . . . stuff. "That's better. That's way better."
"It's gross. I look gross."
"You look beautiful. I don't like it." I mean it, she does. So delicate but with an obvious strength, long lean lines like Spock, some of the same elegance even though she's hunched over as usual, her face hidden behind her hair.
"Quit saying that."
"No. You can't make me, you are." I get up, stand in front of her and take her hands in mine, noticing the nails bitten down to the quick like mine always were before being a captain had me too busy to breathe. "You look way too old for your age and disturbingly pretty. It's too tight and shows way too much leg. Maybe if you bought a skirt to go with it and some sort of wrap? It's too short in the back, and it's kind of see-through. Does it come with something to wear under it?"
She pulls her hands back, her hair batting me in the face as she turns swiftly to go back into the dressing cubicle. "This one, then. No skirt, no wrap. You're such an old fart, Dad."
Tactics. I didn't get made Admiral for nothing.
---
There's a bite in the air today, clouds thick and hanging low over the bay. A wind that whisks my lab-born hair into a quiff as I chop my way through a pile of logs as high as my shoulder, feeling macho as shit until I screw up a tendon in my back and have to limp through to the kitchen to dig the regenerator out of the house first aid kit. It's been a strange week, Spock sliding around the corners of my mind as we spend less time with each other, him busy at the academy with Fall Break coming up and everything a little changed between us since the conversation about our bond. Then I woke this morning and he was still in bed with me, probably because I was wrapped around him the way Gray grabs hold of one finger and holds on with all his strength.
My waking is a slow one, aware that I'm warm and relaxed and haven't had a nightmare for the first time in over a month. Then I become aware of smooth skin beneath my hands, and I Mmmm into my pillow, allowing my fingers to trail where they want, shifting my hips closer against the thigh between mine, and there's this scent that's everywhere and I can't figure out what it is so I slowly open my eyes and look directly into Spock's, looking back at me where his face is inches from mine, his arms around my waist as my hands smooth up and down his back. I look into his eyes, my hands quit stroking, my heart jumps up into my throat in panic when I figure out that I'm pretty much humping his leg, and I roll away from him with a frantic 'Shit!'
"I'm sorry! I didn't - Sorry."
"I am unsure for what." His hair is tufted up on one side, his bangs mussed with sleep and I curl my fingers against my thigh with the desire to reach out and smooth it all back. The room's silent, the windows at fifty percent opacity allowing the last of a golden dawn to cast a deep yellow light across the bed, highlighting Spock's cheekbones, the brutish line of his nose, that flippant upper line of his mouth. He looks happy, for him. We lie like that, turned towards each other, his foot resting lightly against one of mine and I smile at him, knowing he must feel it from me, that this is okay, that it feels like something natural. I nuzzle deeper into the pillow, unwilling to force myself up out of bed. This is a great way to wake up. The greatest. I feel another, familiar spurt of envy for the other me, that he got used to this, to waking up relaxed and warm next to someone as beautiful as Spock looks in the morning, sleepy-eyed and loose-limbed. Hell, other me got to wake up with this Spock and, I imagine, roll around for half an hour or so having sex. Spock blinks slowly at me, an almost-smile bringing his cheekbone into sharper relief.
"I am here to attend to your needs. If you wish it."
"Easy as that, huh?"
An expression that I recognize as his version of a shrug. "The Vulcan libido matches the needs of its partner, as a general rule."
"You're shitting me." Fuck. If Spock's libido comes close to matching mine, I can see why I married him.
"Amongst other reasons."
"God! Don't do that."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Don't verbally reply to stuff I haven't said aloud."
"No?"
"No." I run my toes a couple of inches up his ankle and his fingers find my naked hip and I'm smiling at him, my dick growing heavy and hard against the bed. His nose bumps mine as we move closer together and I can't think of a better setting than this for what, to me, is a first kiss. A bed-rumpled Vulcan, his skin brushing against mine, his hand now flat on the top of my asscheek and a smile in his warm brown eyes as I shift my head and press my mouth to his. I'm ready to dive into him but a slight whimper followed by a stuttering cry filtering through the comm system tells us Gray's woken a little earlier than he wanted to. Spock's lips brush over mine and it's heartbreakingly perfect for the shortest time before he's pulling away.
"I will see to Gray. Perhaps he will settle back to sleep and allow us to continue."
I watch as he moves out of the bed, the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles of his back stretching and bunching as he pulls on a robe. I roll onto my back, reaching down to spread my legs and cup my nuts beneath the sheet, smiling at Spock as he narrows his eyes at me over his shoulder and I laugh as he leaves the room without a further word. I move into the space he's vacated, rolling onto my stomach and pushing my face into his pillow, my eyes closed, soaking in the lingering warmth as I hear his hushed greeting to Gray in the next room.
I'm not sure I've ever been this relaxed, and I'm the most content I've been in so many weeks of confusion, the constant exhaustion of trying to remember everything in a world that's suddenly new to me again. I'm drifting back off to sleep, my body drowsily turned on, when I hear it, so softly at first that I'm not sure whether I'm dreaming it or not. He's singing to Gray. I can picture it in my mind, having seen him with Gray a hundred times now, the way Gray rests his head under Spock's chin, arms tucked in, one of Spock's hands holding Gray firmly into his side, moving gently from foot to foot with a slight sway that's hypnotic to watch. But his voice joins it now, a language that either I don't understand or have had taken from me, and he's unexpectedly got this melodic voice that twists in my chest as I imagine him with Gray tucked under his chin, swaying from foot to foot, singing our son a lullaby while I wait in bed for him. I smile into his pillow and know that I'm in love with Spock. Or still in love with him, I don't know anymore, maybe it's something that's impossible to eradicate completely.
He never came back to bed. I dozed for twenty minutes, eventually dragging myself out of bed to find him sitting in Gray's room, Gray sprawled asleep over Spock's chest while Spock silently worked on a PADD, his eyes dark and filled with humor as he looked across the room at me before I quietly closed the door and left them to it. There's been no opportunity since as he's up and out of bed as usual before my eyes open, and the few times I've seen Spock has been in passing, handing kids and household issues to one another. But I feel it. I look in his eyes and feel his thoughts warm in my direction, a simmering heat that follows my actions all day, an awareness of him as I sit at my desk and pretend like I have a clue what admirals are supposed to do with their time other than sneak into the fresher to jack off between meetings. I've never been so wrapped up in a person as this, and he's in every cycle of my life, my work, my home, in each of my thoughts, physically a part of my mind. Spock's become my context, my tether, my touchstone in every way.
I drag a basketful of logs indoors once my back's fixed and bank up the fire in the log burner in my den, noticing an active message blinking on my console, which is aggravating as it's practically the holidays already. I throw myself back into my chair with a couple of fingers of malt and key it up, expecting some nervous request from a lieutenant wanting my advice on getting ahead.
Jim
My stomach completes a lazy backflip and I smile against the lip of my glass.
The touch of your mind seems to be returning to where it once was, a familiarity with my own that has been absent. It is as if you have returned to me for a second time. For this, and for much else, I am thankful.
Spock
I wish I'd known earlier that he was like this. The frustration returns, more intense now that I'm beginning to realize what it is that I've lost. I slowly drain my glass, reading it over, aching for what's gone, for good if the latest reports are to be believed.
---
Lejiba's picking at her cuticles as a group of who I'm presuming are her friends point at various people around the room and laugh at them. They don't seem like a great bunch of kids and I'm glad to see that she's not participating, looking out the window as if she's bored. But then I see an odd sheen to her eyes and she blinks rapidly, glaring out the window towards the bay, so I get to my feet from where I'm sitting watching Bones going through private agonies of jealousy as Scotty's proud arm curls tighter around Uhura's waist. It takes me five minutes of moving from group to group, mingling as I go with people I don't recognize and am not sure whether I'm suppose to or not, to finally make it over to stand in front of Lejiba.
"They're playing our song. Come dance with me?"
Her eyes spit green fire at me, her voice lowered to an angry hiss. "We don't have a song, and there is no way I'm doing anything with you after that spectacle you made of yourself earlier."
"You didn't like my version of the Andorian Polka? I thought I kicked ass." Literally, it's kind of energetic and I seem to recall I actually made contact a few times but that might just be the punch talking.
"In front of my friends, too. It's, like, social death. Do you have any idea what it's like, having Admiral Polka for a dad? You might as well ground me for the next year because nobody's going to come near me now."
I guess I don't get that she's genuinely mad until she turns on the spot and starts to stalk away. I grab her elbow and spin her back towards me, at a loss with how I can try to apologize to her without apologizing for having a good time at a party that I was not looking forward to. "We are going to dance, and you are going to smile at me and act like you're enjoying it, because I'm your dad and that's what you do with parents. You humor us."
She's rigid with tension but allows me to pull her towards the area around her piano where a few couples are dancing to the piano player Pui-Shan hired once Lejiba flat refused to 'Act like a performing monkey all night.' I've only ever done this with lovers or potential lovers, and dancing with moody teenage daughters is a skill I hadn't expected I'd ever need so I'm a little clumsy when I place a hand on her back, holding the other up as I begin to step from foot to foot, pulling her into an unwilling dance.
"You look beautiful. So grown up. I can't believe you start college next year."
A heavy sigh as she gazes stonily at my chest and doesn't respond. I try a few more times at starting conversation but she either answers monosyllabically or doesn't bother to answer at all. Eventually I have to give up and try the honest approach, as it's the first opportunity I've had to really talk to her and the song'll be over in a few minutes.
"They don't think I'm going to get my memory back. At least, not for some time, maybe when technology catches up or something." She doesn't look at me or anything but I notice that she inches a little closer toward me, her fingers tight on my shirt. "I'm sure you must miss who I was, before."
She's so close now that her forehead brushes the front of my shirt, both hands clutching at me now and her voice has lost its harsh edge. "And Pops can't help? Or Sarek? They can get a healer to meld with you, maybe -"
"No. There's nothing they can do if the engrams aren't there. They've been permanently wiped. I'm sorry, honey."
"I can't believe you thought this was the best place to tell me." But it's muffled in my chest and I wrap my arms around her as she allows me to hold her close. I don't remember ever doing this before, all her fragility and grace cradled against me. She's become so precious to me that it aches when I hear her sniff, rubbing her nose in my shirt.
"I'm so sorry." It's all I can think of to say.
"I guess it's okay. " Still mufffled. "You're pretty much back to being as lame as you were before, and we remember it all for you. Much as I've tried to forget some of the worse stuff."
I love the quirk of humor in her, how fast she bounces back. "Like what?"
"What is it with you and camping? You and Pops. All my friends get to go to Risa and I get dragged camping. And you and Uncle Scotty on your birthday, every year. You get so drunk and tell me for, like, half an hour how proud you are of me then you cry a little and want to cuddle me, and you stink."
"What are you talking about? That sounds awesome. I'm the greatest parent alive." I twirl her into a dip. "Admit it - I'm the best dad. Not Spock. You like me best, right?"
"Let me up or die."
The song's finishing and the pianist segues into a slower number and I pull Lejiba into me tighter for a quick hug. "I am proud of you. I think you're amazing. You're my girl, right?"
Her arms go tight around my waist, a low hiccup of emotion. "You haven't called me that in forever. I can't believe you remembered."
"Because it's true. That'll never change."
I'm moving us both gently to the music and feel a tap on my shoulder, looking over the top of Lejiba's head to look into Spock's eyes. "I wish to cut in."
"Finally!" Lejiba pulls away, unwrapping herself from me and giving Spock a quick half-hug. "You took your time rescuing me."
"The intention behind my interruption was to dance with my daughter. As far as my understanding of the action goes, if I wished to dance with Jim, I would have tapped on your shoulder."
"I don't care." She gives me a little budge towards Spock with both hands, turning to head back towards her friends. "My embarrassment is total. You guys might as well compound it and traumatize me completely."
I smile into Spock's neck as his arms go around me, totally unfamiliar but so perfect that it feels like I can remember, as if my body remembers him. It's somehow not strange to dance with him like this, a soft sway that's not so much of a dance as a shuffle, moving against him and pulling away long enough to look into his eyes, tracing along with his jaw with my thumb as a hint of lust passes from him into the depths of my mind. I murmur it, 'You know that I love you', a statement of fact because I know he does, that he can feel it flooding out of me with every touch, that it must buzz along the bond into his mind.
"Any chance we can sneak out of our own party?" It's a stupid question, there's over a hundred guests crowding out the house and me dragging Spock up to the bedroom over one shoulder caveman-style might get noticed.
"I do not believe so."
I slide a hand under Spock's jacket, brushing my fingers along the skin of his back. "Anything we can do to wrap it up early? You've got to have access to some smart-bugs in the Academy labs."
"I am afraid nothing that would not endanger our lives, along with those of our children." His nose rubs along the curve of my ear and I think he takes a deep breath there, like he's drawing in my scent. I can feel his desire simmering away under my skin and it's all I can do to not turn into him and shove my tongue down his throat. I content myself with a brief brush of my mouth against his, resting my cheek for one longer moment against his before the song ends and we part. Maybe the whole room had been watching us, glad we seem to be sorting everything out since the incident, but just now, just for this second as his fingers brush against mine, it feels like we're entirely alone and my whole universe is suddenly a pair of eyes that know me inside out.
---
It's not how I thought it would be. All these weeks, this long, slow build and I figure it'll be like the other morning, a lazy exploration as we relearn each other. Instead the door slides shut behind us as we walk from the now-quiet house into our bedroom and he's on me, hands that are stronger than I ever imagined holding me tight against the wall as Spock's mouth forces mine open. Not that I take much persuading. I haven't been this desperately horny since I was a teen, and never thought I'd be in my forties, trying to tear someone's clothes off because I'm so hungry to get to the skin underneath. He wasn't kidding about the dominant thing, manhandling me like I'm a ragdoll, flipping me over to press my front into the wall as he removes my shirt and bites at my neck and shoulders, reaching around to possessively shove a hand into my pants to cup my dick and begin to rub. I have no idea what's driving me crazier, his mouth or his hand, the low growls rumbling up from the depths of the chest rubbing fuzzily against my back or the thread of out of control lust fizzing along our link like a timed charge. I have to drag his hand away eventually and beg him to go over to the bed, so sure I am that Spock's going to simply tear the pants off me and fuck me up against this wall. Which, don't get me wrong, would be awesome in its own way.
He's somehow managed to work me half out of my pants by the time we're at the bed and I'm shoved down, a look of triumph flitting across Spock's face as he strips out of his clothes, looking down at me as I do my damndest to pour as much Fuck Me Now, Fuck Me Hard through the link towards him as I look up all slitty eyed, licking my lips like some I'm some skinny twink out of a pornvid rather than a fat forty-plus admiral preparing to get fucked by his husband of fifteen years. Then Gray decides to wake up and wail, and I'm pretty much ready to do a one-eighty on all my warm fuzzy new feelings about parenthood. Spock flashes a dark look at me, refastening his pants and moving towards the door to tend to Gray, turning before he leaves to let his eyes run over every inch of my exposed skin.
"May I suggest that you utilize my absence to ready your body for intercourse?"
"I always did appreciate how efficiently you think. Tell me - are nerve pinches bad for babies? Theoretically speaking."
An eyebrow in my direction and he's gone, his voice a low and slightly disconcerting murmur over the comm as I kick my way out of my pants and shoes, and replicate a small cup of lube to start fingerfucking myself with. My skin's smarting all over, aware I'm spread out and waiting for him. Then Gray takes too long to settle down, and the punch and one fuck of a long week takes its toll, and I begin to doze across the sheet with two fingers seated in my ass.
I wake to an awareness of him, not even a touch, but instead a flow of sensation as he looks down at me on the bed. It's enough to rouse me early enough to enjoy the floorshow as he removes his pants and underwear, his body magnificently built, lean and as fine as an alabaster statue, his dick standing proud and drooling wet in the second before the bed dips and he covers me with himself. I can't get enough of him. Spock's tongue in my mouth, his hands reverent yet grabby, almost a shade too strong, his cock as he pulls my hips into the circle of his, holding my knees up around my neck and beginning to push in. I gasp at him to go slow because it's been a long time, at least that I remember at this exact moment, and he growls down at me that 'It has been precisely forty nine days, three hours and approaching thirty seven minutes' as he continues to seat himself in me entirely.
It's a quick fuck, desperate and needy as he starts slamming into me too hard too soon and I cry out, bouncing on the bed with the force of his thrusts, wrapping my ankles around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He's bigger than anything I've taken before, the burn transforming into a growing ache and it's not lovemaking, nothing like it, instead a deep, hasty screw between two people who needed this too much to dick around with anything approaching romance. He's pumping my cock in time with the slam of his hips against mine, and it's coming on so fast that I barely have time to grab his other hand from around my ankle to rub it clumsily against my face.
"Come on, do it, fuck my head."
It makes his rhythm falter as he looks down at me with as much of an appalled look that I think a Vulcan's ever managed to muster. "Excuse me?"
"That can't possibly be the first time I've ever said that to you." I thrust back against him, grinding down and stretching myself on his cock as his fingers spread to caress the side of my face. "Meld with me. I know we've done it before. We must have."
"We have. I know your mind as well as I do my own." His fingers find points across my face, one by one, stretching a span as his eyes look deeply into mine and his dick skewers my gut ever deeper as I take more of his weight. I'm not even listening as he gives a low mutter, my body quivering with need and too much sensation, too much want. He starts to fuck me once more as he presses his way into my head, and I'm gone, filled with him to the point where I can't do or feel anything more than the thrust of his dick or the sensation of Spock flooding into every inch of my soul. It could be that I scream when I come, it could be that it's entirely silent, because I'm too attuned to him and the feel of him to know anything beyond total, agonizing, ecstatic joy that rips through me like a solar flare. I'm destroyed, crucified on Spock like nothing existed before him and can't possibly exist beyond.
"We need to fix my memory."
He doesn't lift his head, his dick flexing deep inside my ass as I feel his lips move against my shoulder in something that can't possibly be a smile. "I believe Starfleet has some of its most creative scientific minds working on the issue, for reasons other than the recollection of our sexual history."
"Then we need to make new memories. Lots and lots of new memories." I lift his hand from where it's now lying slack against my cheek and lay it over the center of my chest. "Lots, and lots, and lots. I've got sixteen years of fucking to catch up on."
He lifts his head, looks down at me with a certain softness to his expression, and I wonder if he's already mentally composing some dirty little note to send me in receipt for a holiday weekend spent trying to catch up on a lifetime's lovemaking. "I am available to you in whatever manner best serves your needs."
"Whatever?"
He inclines his head once, 'Aye Admiral', and I fall in love all over again. Third time's a charm.
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: This is the fic I've written to complete a bingo line for trek_crackbingo plus indulge myself in a bunch of K/S cliches, so highlight the following to view prompts/cliches fulfilled to some degree - Love Letters, Holidays, Wild Card (I picked Amnesia, and threw in kid!fic with a garnish of Mpreg), Tentacles - scary, and Dad Dancing.
Word Count: This chapter, 7600
Summary: Jim wakes after an attack to find everything changed
For: awarrington
I arrive home and Spock's already waiting for me in the living room, more gorgeous in his uniform than is entirely fair. He's seated on the couch looking unflappable, one of my books open in his lap, his face composed but, now that I'm aware of it, I can feel his concern for me filtering through the bond and into my mind. It's so unselfish, that even though I'm worrying him and even if he is as reliant on our bond as Nyota seemed to think, it's all about me, not a shred of unease about what any of this means for him. I'm a contrary asshole because it only makes me madder and I point a finger at him accusingly from across the room as I walk towards him.
"You! You're the thing in my head!"
An eyebrow flicks upwards. "You are referring to our bond?"
"Damn skippy, I am. It didn't occur to you that I might like to be informed that you've got ready access to my mind?"
Spock closes the book, placing it on the low table in front of him. "You are intoxicated. Perhaps it would be worthwhile for us to leave this discussion until you are more able to participate in a sober manner."
"I'm sober enough." I'm standing over him, hands on my hips, glaring down at him in a way that seems to provoke the smallest touch of indulgence to filter through from him to me. "Oh, don't even think of humoring me, I have every right to be mad. None of you thought to remind me about the fact that we're mentally linked, right from the start? You don't get that this is a big deal for me? You must know my personal history, Spock, I wouldn't keep all that from the person I'm married to. You above all people should get why this is difficult for me to deal with."
"Jim -"
"You're supposed to love me so much and you don't even start to think about what this thing means for me. I don't appreciate it, not at all. "
I feel a mental flinch as he bristles on the couch, his eyes going hard. "Our bond is not a thing. As a matter of record, our particular bond is rare, and highly respected in Vulcan culture. We have been very fortunate in our finding of one another."
"Fortunate? You call this lucky? Because I don't feel very fucking lucky right now. I got mindraped by a goddamn monster and only now do I find out that you've been sneaking a grope of your own all along."
That one got to him and I wouldn't have known it to look at him, his eyes merely shifting from mine as he looks at the wall behind my shoulder and nods. It's so noble, so completely selfless in the way he bears my accusation with silent acceptance and a mind full of bewildered hurt. It makes me feel like a total bastard and the anger pours out of me like someone pulled the plug as I slump down on the couch next to him and rub over my mouth with my hands, wishing I could take the words back. "God, Spock. I'm sorry. You must know me well enough to realize I say shitty stuff that I don't necessarily mean when I'm mad."
A pause and then a touch at my knee, his fingers resting there gently. I look down at them, wondering if he's aware of the pulse of arousal they shoot up my thigh and into my nuts. "You are correct, I should have anticipated your unease with a bond you not made aware of. It is so much a part of me now that I am unable to think of it in anything but positive terms, and that, without it, I may have lost you . . ."
It's more than a thin mental thread now, a flood of love tinged with fear and a touch of panic, and I cover his hand with my own, wanting to comfort him. His eyes meet mine, unnerving in how opaque they are right now but I feel it, desire, want and physical need pouring off him at the touch of my skin against his own. I pull my hand away in a hurry, unsettled by such an intense reaction to a simple touch. "Maybe you're right, we should leave this till later because I feel like I keep screwing up. You didn't lose me, I'm here, I'm just, I don't know, not myself. So I'll probably keep screwing up till I get my memory back and I need you to give me some wriggle room on that."
"Of course. I have attempted to make allowances -"
"I get that, and I appreciate it." This is possibly the most mature conversation I've ever had in my life.
"But I must ask that you also make them on my behalf. That you have been so removed from me has been problematic. Nothing, I am sure, in comparison with those issues you must encounter daily -"
"I know this is tough on you. I'm sorry that I'm not him, Spock. I'm sorry I'm not your husband."
Warmth, and reassurance, a not-smile. "You are yourself, Jim, unchanged from the moment I first saw you. Make no mistake of it." He reaches out to pick up the book from the table, moving up off the couch to place it on a shelf before walking towards the door, turning back to me before he leaves. "It is likely that your consumption of alcohol has left you suffering low level dehydration. I will prepare us some tea before we continue with the discussion regarding our bond, and how we might best progress from this point forward."
Tea? Eugh. I watch him leave the room as I get to my feet, calling out after him as I follow. "Yeah, the tea's another thing we have got to talk about."
---
Jim
You accept that Vulcans make possessive, dominant lovers. I accept, further to our discussion on the matter last night, that it would be inappropriate of me to in any way seek to influence your eventual choice in the appointment of your personal assistant. I also note that your description of Lt. L DiMarco as 'a hot piece of ass' is potentially inaccurate, as I have not detected peculiar levels of heat radiation emanating from Lt. DiMarco's buttocks. You may wish to request that Lt. DiMarco submits to further testing on the matter prior to making your final decision.
I would not personally recommend that you take that course of action.
Spock
I laugh into my knuckles. I'm almost caught up on seventeen years' worth of love notes, all of them imbued with Spock's brand of wry humor and the persistence of his desire for me. Dominant lover. I read it over and grin, squirm in the leather chair in my den, ass hungry all of a sudden, clenching hard as my dick unfurls to press against the front of my pants. I try in complete futility to suppress it, still a little uncomfortable with the idea that Spock undoubtedly knows I'm getting horny, now that he's explained the bond more fully to me. Sucks that he gets more off it than I do off him, what with him being a telepath and me being about as telepathic as your average amoeba. I key up another file, wondering what this one will bring with it. I've jacked off to more than a few, his more descriptive notes that detail, word by word, precisely what he was planning to do with me that evening. It sounds like our sex life was lively, creative and extremely energetic, hell, even I miss it and I don't remember it. But some of the notes have been shot through with such longing when we've been separated by light years, or with such love, especially after key events such as our marriage or leading up to Gray's birth, when every word is laden with gratitude and reverence.
Jim
You are incorrect: My father does not view you as 'a lower form of life'. My father understands that you are a parent to his grandchildren, his son's bondmate, a member of his household and of the same species as his deceased wife.
I believe, however, that he may have concerns regarding the nature of your sense of humor. Such as it is.
Spock
My husband's a snarky bitch, but then I already suspected that and this is simply confirmation of the fact. I like him, more than I thought was possible. It's weird to be thinking of him as my husband at all, so used as I am to categorizing Spock neatly as Vulcan/Colleague/Uptight Jackass/Tentative Friend/Masturbation Material, depending on my frame of mind at the time. But over a month back at home with him now, sleeping in his bed, reading his notes and spending time with him and the kids, it's like the lines are blurring. He's becoming simply Spock, uncategorizable beyond the simple descriptor Husband that seems to cover him neatly.
Jim
One day into your journey towards Ibahn, and your husband misses you. It is distracting and unwelcome. Please immediately desist being missable.
I appreciate your compliance in this matter.
Spock
There's a holofile attached, a photo of an almost-smiling Lejiba holding Gray up, a much decorated sign in what I recognize now as Lejiba's handwriting held in Gray's chubby fists, We love you, Dad!!! Come Home Soon!! A lump the size of Jupiter settles in my throat, knowing I would've read this a few days before it all got stolen from me, and from them. I didn't know I'd ever be this wanted. I never realized that family life would be like this, that being needed and relied on could be as welcome as it is a burden to bear. I look into the eyes of a family that misses me. I can't close the file out, propping the PADD up on my desk and sitting back in my chair to look at the kids, knowing that, even if I don't love them in the same way that I used to, that they're a part of me now and that I could no more walk away from them than I could chew off my own legs. I have to make it work with Spock, even if it's looking increasingly unlikely that my missing memory engrams will ever be returned to me, the study of the squid coming up with no more than an enormous pile of finely-chopped calamari. I hate that I've missed out on so much. I can't miss out on any more simply because I'm scared shitless of something that I can't even put into words.
My door chimes and Pui-Shan carries Gray in, and he holds out his hands to me, bouncing up and down in her arms in excitement. That's never going to get old, this little soul being so totally overjoyed to see me, every single time. He grabs at my ears and DADADADAs against my forehead as I hold him tight against me and marvel at his solidity, in the miniature muscular frame beneath the drool-soaked bib and baby fat. Then his hand makes a grab at my eyebrow tugging a little and his fingers stretch out across my eye, his forefinger brushing over one point and it's like my mind's suddenly screwed into an intensely focused knot of contented-feeling Daddy Mine Banana Funny Milk before his hand moves on to smack at my cheek in glee.
"Whoa, Gray's a telepath?"
Pui-Shan looks concerned, a slight frown creasing the skin between her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"He just melded with me. A little bit."
"Gray, honey? Look at me, Gray - Did you meld with your daddy? Did you touch Daddy's mind?"
Gray laughs and claps his hands, blows a raspberry in my face. I blow one back. "Did we not know he's telepathic? I'm sure that's what it was."
She's smiling at Gray, his fingers wrapped tight around one of hers. "We had an idea that he might have the innate capability but it's highly unusual to manifest this early. Like, pretty much unheard of, the Vulcan Embassy's probably going to want to have him in for testing because untrained telepathy can be dangerous. Well, I guess I don't need to tell you that. You want to go to Grandpa's place for some special games, Gray? Would that be fun? You love your Grandpa, don't you?"
"Sarek's good with the kids?"
"Oh, sure. I get the impression he's much more relaxed with them than he ever was with Spock, but that's normal with grandparents, Vulcan or not. Sarek and Lejiba have, like, their own little mutual adoration society. He takes her out for lunch at a different restaurant every month and has been to every one of her recitals since she started playing, even the ones off-world. You're never going to be his favorite person but he dotes on the kids."
"Hah! I knew he didn't like me."
"I've heard that you didn't make the greatest first impression on him."
"I guess not." I rub my nose against Gray's as he gurgles at me and tries to poke my eye out. A telepathic baby, just when you don't think life's going to get any weirder than monster mind-sucking squids. I'm guessing complacency's no longer an option in my life, if it ever was.
"I'm taking Gray and Lejiba shopping later for party outfits. You want to tag along? I think Lejiba would like it if you did, not that pain of torture would get her to admit it."
"Party? What, Christmas?"
Pui-Shan sighs, groans, resting the heel of her hand against her forehead briefly. "I swear to God, that husband of yours is less empathic than a stick. I can't believe he didn't remind you this was coming up or think to ask if you'd want to cancel it this year. I mean, everyone would've understood if you had but it's a little late now. You guys have this huge Thanksgiving party here every year. It's a thing for anyone left in town not visiting family. Half of HQ and Spock's students will be here, all your friends. It's pretty legendary."
"But that's next week."
"It is. Hence the shopping trip."
"And I'm not going to recognize half the people there? Goddammit, Spock."
Her smile doesn't falter, much as her eyes pretty much slice me in two. "Gray, Daddy said a funny word that means he likes Pops very much. Right, Daddy?"
I nod, chastened, smile at Gray. "Right. Ever so much."
---
My eyes are out on stalks as Pui-Shan pats my back like she does when she's trying to make Gray burp, soothing my nerves as Lejiba turns in front of me in a dress that barely covers, well, anything important, way too much smooth purple skin on show.
"It's the fashion now, Admiral. Right, Lejiba?"
"I don't care about fashion."
"Awesome." I hold up a cobwebby thing that at least looks like it has sleeves. And a skirt. "So we can try this one next, right?"
She looks horrified, as if I suggested she should try on, I don't know, a dress made of tongue or something. "God, no. Just, you sit there and don't say anything, okay? And don't look at me. Watch Gray."
"Gray's sleeping, and I think it's my duty as your father to ensure that any clothes you wear before the age of eighteen at the very least cover both buttcheeks in their entirety. Here." I wave the cobwebby thing at her again. "At least try it. You've tried every other dress in the store on so far."
"Then leave, you don't have to stay. I don't know why you decided to butt in, anyway."
It feels like my smile's tattooed on my face, I've kept it there so long now by effort of will alone. "Of course I wanted to come, I love dress shopping more than life. Come on, try this one. For me?"
It's grabbed out of my hands with a frustrated grunt and she stomps off in her boots back into the private dressing booth. Pui-Shan even starts humming under her breath, patting at my back still like I'm teething. I glare at her and she smiles back at me innocently. "Having a good time?"
"if I want to bond with Lejiba, maybe I should just take her hoverscooter shopping or something."
Pui-Shan's eyebrows shoot up. "You think talking your fifteen year old daughter into hoverscooter ownership's a good idea? That's . . . interesting."
"I used to have a bike." I can tell I'm getting all dreamy-eyed and nostalgic for something that didn't seem like a big deal at the time. "It was so cool, I gave it up when I enlisted. Hey, maybe I should get another one, now I'm earthbound."
"Spock wouldn't approve. I thought Gray was supposed to be your mid-life crisis?"
"That's what Bones said." I look down at Gray sleeping in the buggy, hand clutching a dirty grey rag that I found out used to be the corner of one of Spock's robes. His cheeks are perfect half-globes, peachy and splotchy red with teething pains, his mouth puckered in sleep, his other hand a small pink starfish stretched out across his chest. Looking at him hurts. Physically hurts, like he's too perfect, like I'm looking directly into the sun and can't stop. His dark slashes of eyebrow and thick black sweep of lashes lying over each cheek remind me painfully of Spock and I can't help but reach out to trace a finger along one brow. He shifts in his sleep and Pui-Shan grabs my hand away,
"You wake him, you get to deal with mega-cranky baby for the next hour."
Lejiba steps back out, her legs way too long in a dress that's too short for my liking. But it covers her ass, and other . . . stuff. "That's better. That's way better."
"It's gross. I look gross."
"You look beautiful. I don't like it." I mean it, she does. So delicate but with an obvious strength, long lean lines like Spock, some of the same elegance even though she's hunched over as usual, her face hidden behind her hair.
"Quit saying that."
"No. You can't make me, you are." I get up, stand in front of her and take her hands in mine, noticing the nails bitten down to the quick like mine always were before being a captain had me too busy to breathe. "You look way too old for your age and disturbingly pretty. It's too tight and shows way too much leg. Maybe if you bought a skirt to go with it and some sort of wrap? It's too short in the back, and it's kind of see-through. Does it come with something to wear under it?"
She pulls her hands back, her hair batting me in the face as she turns swiftly to go back into the dressing cubicle. "This one, then. No skirt, no wrap. You're such an old fart, Dad."
Tactics. I didn't get made Admiral for nothing.
---
There's a bite in the air today, clouds thick and hanging low over the bay. A wind that whisks my lab-born hair into a quiff as I chop my way through a pile of logs as high as my shoulder, feeling macho as shit until I screw up a tendon in my back and have to limp through to the kitchen to dig the regenerator out of the house first aid kit. It's been a strange week, Spock sliding around the corners of my mind as we spend less time with each other, him busy at the academy with Fall Break coming up and everything a little changed between us since the conversation about our bond. Then I woke this morning and he was still in bed with me, probably because I was wrapped around him the way Gray grabs hold of one finger and holds on with all his strength.
My waking is a slow one, aware that I'm warm and relaxed and haven't had a nightmare for the first time in over a month. Then I become aware of smooth skin beneath my hands, and I Mmmm into my pillow, allowing my fingers to trail where they want, shifting my hips closer against the thigh between mine, and there's this scent that's everywhere and I can't figure out what it is so I slowly open my eyes and look directly into Spock's, looking back at me where his face is inches from mine, his arms around my waist as my hands smooth up and down his back. I look into his eyes, my hands quit stroking, my heart jumps up into my throat in panic when I figure out that I'm pretty much humping his leg, and I roll away from him with a frantic 'Shit!'
"I'm sorry! I didn't - Sorry."
"I am unsure for what." His hair is tufted up on one side, his bangs mussed with sleep and I curl my fingers against my thigh with the desire to reach out and smooth it all back. The room's silent, the windows at fifty percent opacity allowing the last of a golden dawn to cast a deep yellow light across the bed, highlighting Spock's cheekbones, the brutish line of his nose, that flippant upper line of his mouth. He looks happy, for him. We lie like that, turned towards each other, his foot resting lightly against one of mine and I smile at him, knowing he must feel it from me, that this is okay, that it feels like something natural. I nuzzle deeper into the pillow, unwilling to force myself up out of bed. This is a great way to wake up. The greatest. I feel another, familiar spurt of envy for the other me, that he got used to this, to waking up relaxed and warm next to someone as beautiful as Spock looks in the morning, sleepy-eyed and loose-limbed. Hell, other me got to wake up with this Spock and, I imagine, roll around for half an hour or so having sex. Spock blinks slowly at me, an almost-smile bringing his cheekbone into sharper relief.
"I am here to attend to your needs. If you wish it."
"Easy as that, huh?"
An expression that I recognize as his version of a shrug. "The Vulcan libido matches the needs of its partner, as a general rule."
"You're shitting me." Fuck. If Spock's libido comes close to matching mine, I can see why I married him.
"Amongst other reasons."
"God! Don't do that."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Don't verbally reply to stuff I haven't said aloud."
"No?"
"No." I run my toes a couple of inches up his ankle and his fingers find my naked hip and I'm smiling at him, my dick growing heavy and hard against the bed. His nose bumps mine as we move closer together and I can't think of a better setting than this for what, to me, is a first kiss. A bed-rumpled Vulcan, his skin brushing against mine, his hand now flat on the top of my asscheek and a smile in his warm brown eyes as I shift my head and press my mouth to his. I'm ready to dive into him but a slight whimper followed by a stuttering cry filtering through the comm system tells us Gray's woken a little earlier than he wanted to. Spock's lips brush over mine and it's heartbreakingly perfect for the shortest time before he's pulling away.
"I will see to Gray. Perhaps he will settle back to sleep and allow us to continue."
I watch as he moves out of the bed, the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles of his back stretching and bunching as he pulls on a robe. I roll onto my back, reaching down to spread my legs and cup my nuts beneath the sheet, smiling at Spock as he narrows his eyes at me over his shoulder and I laugh as he leaves the room without a further word. I move into the space he's vacated, rolling onto my stomach and pushing my face into his pillow, my eyes closed, soaking in the lingering warmth as I hear his hushed greeting to Gray in the next room.
I'm not sure I've ever been this relaxed, and I'm the most content I've been in so many weeks of confusion, the constant exhaustion of trying to remember everything in a world that's suddenly new to me again. I'm drifting back off to sleep, my body drowsily turned on, when I hear it, so softly at first that I'm not sure whether I'm dreaming it or not. He's singing to Gray. I can picture it in my mind, having seen him with Gray a hundred times now, the way Gray rests his head under Spock's chin, arms tucked in, one of Spock's hands holding Gray firmly into his side, moving gently from foot to foot with a slight sway that's hypnotic to watch. But his voice joins it now, a language that either I don't understand or have had taken from me, and he's unexpectedly got this melodic voice that twists in my chest as I imagine him with Gray tucked under his chin, swaying from foot to foot, singing our son a lullaby while I wait in bed for him. I smile into his pillow and know that I'm in love with Spock. Or still in love with him, I don't know anymore, maybe it's something that's impossible to eradicate completely.
He never came back to bed. I dozed for twenty minutes, eventually dragging myself out of bed to find him sitting in Gray's room, Gray sprawled asleep over Spock's chest while Spock silently worked on a PADD, his eyes dark and filled with humor as he looked across the room at me before I quietly closed the door and left them to it. There's been no opportunity since as he's up and out of bed as usual before my eyes open, and the few times I've seen Spock has been in passing, handing kids and household issues to one another. But I feel it. I look in his eyes and feel his thoughts warm in my direction, a simmering heat that follows my actions all day, an awareness of him as I sit at my desk and pretend like I have a clue what admirals are supposed to do with their time other than sneak into the fresher to jack off between meetings. I've never been so wrapped up in a person as this, and he's in every cycle of my life, my work, my home, in each of my thoughts, physically a part of my mind. Spock's become my context, my tether, my touchstone in every way.
I drag a basketful of logs indoors once my back's fixed and bank up the fire in the log burner in my den, noticing an active message blinking on my console, which is aggravating as it's practically the holidays already. I throw myself back into my chair with a couple of fingers of malt and key it up, expecting some nervous request from a lieutenant wanting my advice on getting ahead.
Jim
My stomach completes a lazy backflip and I smile against the lip of my glass.
The touch of your mind seems to be returning to where it once was, a familiarity with my own that has been absent. It is as if you have returned to me for a second time. For this, and for much else, I am thankful.
Spock
I wish I'd known earlier that he was like this. The frustration returns, more intense now that I'm beginning to realize what it is that I've lost. I slowly drain my glass, reading it over, aching for what's gone, for good if the latest reports are to be believed.
---
Lejiba's picking at her cuticles as a group of who I'm presuming are her friends point at various people around the room and laugh at them. They don't seem like a great bunch of kids and I'm glad to see that she's not participating, looking out the window as if she's bored. But then I see an odd sheen to her eyes and she blinks rapidly, glaring out the window towards the bay, so I get to my feet from where I'm sitting watching Bones going through private agonies of jealousy as Scotty's proud arm curls tighter around Uhura's waist. It takes me five minutes of moving from group to group, mingling as I go with people I don't recognize and am not sure whether I'm suppose to or not, to finally make it over to stand in front of Lejiba.
"They're playing our song. Come dance with me?"
Her eyes spit green fire at me, her voice lowered to an angry hiss. "We don't have a song, and there is no way I'm doing anything with you after that spectacle you made of yourself earlier."
"You didn't like my version of the Andorian Polka? I thought I kicked ass." Literally, it's kind of energetic and I seem to recall I actually made contact a few times but that might just be the punch talking.
"In front of my friends, too. It's, like, social death. Do you have any idea what it's like, having Admiral Polka for a dad? You might as well ground me for the next year because nobody's going to come near me now."
I guess I don't get that she's genuinely mad until she turns on the spot and starts to stalk away. I grab her elbow and spin her back towards me, at a loss with how I can try to apologize to her without apologizing for having a good time at a party that I was not looking forward to. "We are going to dance, and you are going to smile at me and act like you're enjoying it, because I'm your dad and that's what you do with parents. You humor us."
She's rigid with tension but allows me to pull her towards the area around her piano where a few couples are dancing to the piano player Pui-Shan hired once Lejiba flat refused to 'Act like a performing monkey all night.' I've only ever done this with lovers or potential lovers, and dancing with moody teenage daughters is a skill I hadn't expected I'd ever need so I'm a little clumsy when I place a hand on her back, holding the other up as I begin to step from foot to foot, pulling her into an unwilling dance.
"You look beautiful. So grown up. I can't believe you start college next year."
A heavy sigh as she gazes stonily at my chest and doesn't respond. I try a few more times at starting conversation but she either answers monosyllabically or doesn't bother to answer at all. Eventually I have to give up and try the honest approach, as it's the first opportunity I've had to really talk to her and the song'll be over in a few minutes.
"They don't think I'm going to get my memory back. At least, not for some time, maybe when technology catches up or something." She doesn't look at me or anything but I notice that she inches a little closer toward me, her fingers tight on my shirt. "I'm sure you must miss who I was, before."
She's so close now that her forehead brushes the front of my shirt, both hands clutching at me now and her voice has lost its harsh edge. "And Pops can't help? Or Sarek? They can get a healer to meld with you, maybe -"
"No. There's nothing they can do if the engrams aren't there. They've been permanently wiped. I'm sorry, honey."
"I can't believe you thought this was the best place to tell me." But it's muffled in my chest and I wrap my arms around her as she allows me to hold her close. I don't remember ever doing this before, all her fragility and grace cradled against me. She's become so precious to me that it aches when I hear her sniff, rubbing her nose in my shirt.
"I'm so sorry." It's all I can think of to say.
"I guess it's okay. " Still mufffled. "You're pretty much back to being as lame as you were before, and we remember it all for you. Much as I've tried to forget some of the worse stuff."
I love the quirk of humor in her, how fast she bounces back. "Like what?"
"What is it with you and camping? You and Pops. All my friends get to go to Risa and I get dragged camping. And you and Uncle Scotty on your birthday, every year. You get so drunk and tell me for, like, half an hour how proud you are of me then you cry a little and want to cuddle me, and you stink."
"What are you talking about? That sounds awesome. I'm the greatest parent alive." I twirl her into a dip. "Admit it - I'm the best dad. Not Spock. You like me best, right?"
"Let me up or die."
The song's finishing and the pianist segues into a slower number and I pull Lejiba into me tighter for a quick hug. "I am proud of you. I think you're amazing. You're my girl, right?"
Her arms go tight around my waist, a low hiccup of emotion. "You haven't called me that in forever. I can't believe you remembered."
"Because it's true. That'll never change."
I'm moving us both gently to the music and feel a tap on my shoulder, looking over the top of Lejiba's head to look into Spock's eyes. "I wish to cut in."
"Finally!" Lejiba pulls away, unwrapping herself from me and giving Spock a quick half-hug. "You took your time rescuing me."
"The intention behind my interruption was to dance with my daughter. As far as my understanding of the action goes, if I wished to dance with Jim, I would have tapped on your shoulder."
"I don't care." She gives me a little budge towards Spock with both hands, turning to head back towards her friends. "My embarrassment is total. You guys might as well compound it and traumatize me completely."
I smile into Spock's neck as his arms go around me, totally unfamiliar but so perfect that it feels like I can remember, as if my body remembers him. It's somehow not strange to dance with him like this, a soft sway that's not so much of a dance as a shuffle, moving against him and pulling away long enough to look into his eyes, tracing along with his jaw with my thumb as a hint of lust passes from him into the depths of my mind. I murmur it, 'You know that I love you', a statement of fact because I know he does, that he can feel it flooding out of me with every touch, that it must buzz along the bond into his mind.
"Any chance we can sneak out of our own party?" It's a stupid question, there's over a hundred guests crowding out the house and me dragging Spock up to the bedroom over one shoulder caveman-style might get noticed.
"I do not believe so."
I slide a hand under Spock's jacket, brushing my fingers along the skin of his back. "Anything we can do to wrap it up early? You've got to have access to some smart-bugs in the Academy labs."
"I am afraid nothing that would not endanger our lives, along with those of our children." His nose rubs along the curve of my ear and I think he takes a deep breath there, like he's drawing in my scent. I can feel his desire simmering away under my skin and it's all I can do to not turn into him and shove my tongue down his throat. I content myself with a brief brush of my mouth against his, resting my cheek for one longer moment against his before the song ends and we part. Maybe the whole room had been watching us, glad we seem to be sorting everything out since the incident, but just now, just for this second as his fingers brush against mine, it feels like we're entirely alone and my whole universe is suddenly a pair of eyes that know me inside out.
---
It's not how I thought it would be. All these weeks, this long, slow build and I figure it'll be like the other morning, a lazy exploration as we relearn each other. Instead the door slides shut behind us as we walk from the now-quiet house into our bedroom and he's on me, hands that are stronger than I ever imagined holding me tight against the wall as Spock's mouth forces mine open. Not that I take much persuading. I haven't been this desperately horny since I was a teen, and never thought I'd be in my forties, trying to tear someone's clothes off because I'm so hungry to get to the skin underneath. He wasn't kidding about the dominant thing, manhandling me like I'm a ragdoll, flipping me over to press my front into the wall as he removes my shirt and bites at my neck and shoulders, reaching around to possessively shove a hand into my pants to cup my dick and begin to rub. I have no idea what's driving me crazier, his mouth or his hand, the low growls rumbling up from the depths of the chest rubbing fuzzily against my back or the thread of out of control lust fizzing along our link like a timed charge. I have to drag his hand away eventually and beg him to go over to the bed, so sure I am that Spock's going to simply tear the pants off me and fuck me up against this wall. Which, don't get me wrong, would be awesome in its own way.
He's somehow managed to work me half out of my pants by the time we're at the bed and I'm shoved down, a look of triumph flitting across Spock's face as he strips out of his clothes, looking down at me as I do my damndest to pour as much Fuck Me Now, Fuck Me Hard through the link towards him as I look up all slitty eyed, licking my lips like some I'm some skinny twink out of a pornvid rather than a fat forty-plus admiral preparing to get fucked by his husband of fifteen years. Then Gray decides to wake up and wail, and I'm pretty much ready to do a one-eighty on all my warm fuzzy new feelings about parenthood. Spock flashes a dark look at me, refastening his pants and moving towards the door to tend to Gray, turning before he leaves to let his eyes run over every inch of my exposed skin.
"May I suggest that you utilize my absence to ready your body for intercourse?"
"I always did appreciate how efficiently you think. Tell me - are nerve pinches bad for babies? Theoretically speaking."
An eyebrow in my direction and he's gone, his voice a low and slightly disconcerting murmur over the comm as I kick my way out of my pants and shoes, and replicate a small cup of lube to start fingerfucking myself with. My skin's smarting all over, aware I'm spread out and waiting for him. Then Gray takes too long to settle down, and the punch and one fuck of a long week takes its toll, and I begin to doze across the sheet with two fingers seated in my ass.
I wake to an awareness of him, not even a touch, but instead a flow of sensation as he looks down at me on the bed. It's enough to rouse me early enough to enjoy the floorshow as he removes his pants and underwear, his body magnificently built, lean and as fine as an alabaster statue, his dick standing proud and drooling wet in the second before the bed dips and he covers me with himself. I can't get enough of him. Spock's tongue in my mouth, his hands reverent yet grabby, almost a shade too strong, his cock as he pulls my hips into the circle of his, holding my knees up around my neck and beginning to push in. I gasp at him to go slow because it's been a long time, at least that I remember at this exact moment, and he growls down at me that 'It has been precisely forty nine days, three hours and approaching thirty seven minutes' as he continues to seat himself in me entirely.
It's a quick fuck, desperate and needy as he starts slamming into me too hard too soon and I cry out, bouncing on the bed with the force of his thrusts, wrapping my ankles around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He's bigger than anything I've taken before, the burn transforming into a growing ache and it's not lovemaking, nothing like it, instead a deep, hasty screw between two people who needed this too much to dick around with anything approaching romance. He's pumping my cock in time with the slam of his hips against mine, and it's coming on so fast that I barely have time to grab his other hand from around my ankle to rub it clumsily against my face.
"Come on, do it, fuck my head."
It makes his rhythm falter as he looks down at me with as much of an appalled look that I think a Vulcan's ever managed to muster. "Excuse me?"
"That can't possibly be the first time I've ever said that to you." I thrust back against him, grinding down and stretching myself on his cock as his fingers spread to caress the side of my face. "Meld with me. I know we've done it before. We must have."
"We have. I know your mind as well as I do my own." His fingers find points across my face, one by one, stretching a span as his eyes look deeply into mine and his dick skewers my gut ever deeper as I take more of his weight. I'm not even listening as he gives a low mutter, my body quivering with need and too much sensation, too much want. He starts to fuck me once more as he presses his way into my head, and I'm gone, filled with him to the point where I can't do or feel anything more than the thrust of his dick or the sensation of Spock flooding into every inch of my soul. It could be that I scream when I come, it could be that it's entirely silent, because I'm too attuned to him and the feel of him to know anything beyond total, agonizing, ecstatic joy that rips through me like a solar flare. I'm destroyed, crucified on Spock like nothing existed before him and can't possibly exist beyond.
"We need to fix my memory."
He doesn't lift his head, his dick flexing deep inside my ass as I feel his lips move against my shoulder in something that can't possibly be a smile. "I believe Starfleet has some of its most creative scientific minds working on the issue, for reasons other than the recollection of our sexual history."
"Then we need to make new memories. Lots and lots of new memories." I lift his hand from where it's now lying slack against my cheek and lay it over the center of my chest. "Lots, and lots, and lots. I've got sixteen years of fucking to catch up on."
He lifts his head, looks down at me with a certain softness to his expression, and I wonder if he's already mentally composing some dirty little note to send me in receipt for a holiday weekend spent trying to catch up on a lifetime's lovemaking. "I am available to you in whatever manner best serves your needs."
"Whatever?"
He inclines his head once, 'Aye Admiral', and I fall in love all over again. Third time's a charm.