K/S Advent Fic: Ding Dong Merrily on High
Title: Ding Dong Merrily on High
Beta: Unbetaed, I suck at the moment.
Series: STXI
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5200
Warnings: Nothing in particular, my usual servings of fluff with a small side of naughtiness.
Summary: Spock gives Kirk a meld for Christmas. Kirk sees more than Spock intends for him to.
Ding Dong Merrily on High
James T. Kirk skipped merrily down the corridors of the U.S.S. Enterprise.
Alright, perhaps he didn't actually skip, perhaps he proceeded with his usual professional gait: a sure, steady stride borne of both military training at Starfleet Academy and three-and-a-bit years of experience in navigating those selfsame corridors.
But inside, Kirk was skipping. He was also whistling, jumping for joy, doing his happy dance (it was kind of a ridiculous dance, but hey, he was only doing it inside his head where no one else could see it), running around gleefully in circles - whatever type of celebration you wanted, he was doing it.
He felt like decking those halls with boughs of holly; he felt like singing; he felt like Ebenezer-frickin'-Scrooge on Christmas Day, and all because Spock had said yes. Spock had finally said yes.
YES!
Well, not to a certain well-known question; not even to a question of slightly lesser (but still pressing) importance, such as, "Would you like to date me, Spock," or possibly the more risqué, "Would you like to fuck me, Spock?," but the fact remained that he had said yes.
Spock had said that he would - finally, finally - meld the two of them, that he would give Jim a mindmeld for his upcoming Christmas present.
In actuality, Spock had said, "Very well, Jim, if it is truly your wish I shall accommodate it," which sounded more like capitulation than enthusiasm to Kirk, but frankly, he'd take it.
Unbelievable. Three Christmases Jim had asked, only to be turned down.
The first Christmas followed immediately upon Kirk's assumption of the role of Captain. Six weeks they'd been in space, and Jim had already made two major mistakes (well, two concerning Spock, in any case; his other mistakes certainly numbered more than two):
Mistake the First:
He let slip that he'd met Spock's own older self from an alternate reality. He and Spock were piloting a shuttle to a distant lunar settlement, carrying some desperately needed supplies, and Jim should've known that something like this would bubble to the surface when he and Spock had eight hours together with nothing but time to kill. When he realized his mistake he swore loudly. Thankfully nothing in particular happened: Spock clearly already knew who he was talking about, so Jim was saved from his own foolishness (and from universe-ending paradoxes) by his ever-present luck.
Mistake the Second:
He'd then compounded the first mistake by telling Spock about the meld he'd shared with Spock's counterpart, elaborating happily on how it had been one of the most interesting experiences of his life (circumstances aside), and that he really wanted to feel that connection again. But after Kirk had described his enjoyment (okay, after he'd gone on about it at length), Spock's visage had taken on a dark cloud and the Vulcan had clammed up for the rest of the journey. Which meant five further hours of gruelling silence filled with only the beeping of various automatic systems and the occasional hail to keep Jim company.
So that hadn't gone well.
***
Kirk had wanted to bring it up throughout his first year of command, but it was a strange, personal topic, and as they were working together so well professionally, he didn't want to screw it up. Somehow Spock made him shy, contemplative; made him ponder things that nobody else had before.
But by the second Christmas on the Enterprise, though only a little more than a year into their mission, Kirk felt he knew Spock well enough to try again. He didn't know whether it was the reminder that he'd wanted a meld a year previously; perhaps it was the Christmas spirit (or the Christmas spirits, ho ho ho); but whatever it was, he'd asked again.
And again, it hadn't gone well. Jim had just gotten Spock to start spending more of his free time socializing with him and not Uhura (or the latest experiment he was supervising or the latest star charts he was consulting or the latest array data they'd received...etc. etc.). That part was great. It wasn't that he was trying to take Spock away from Uhura (of course he wasn't! Um...). He just wanted a bit more of Spock to himself. Was that so wrong?
And so it was, that during a fairly decent chat they were having in Spock's quarters, Jim remembered the idea of melds and thought it might be a good time to bring up his request again. Maybe it was the whiskey.
In any case, Spock had essentially said that if he wasn't giving melds to Uhura (and he wasn't, and wasn't that interesting?), there was basically no way he was giving one to Kirk. Intimacy and fore-knowledge seemed to be watchwords of the procedure, at least for Spock, and Kirk had nothing to refute that. But he'd tried! Jim had (quite logically, he thought) pointed out the fact that they may need to meld in the future in the course of duty, and surely melding beforehand would be a good way to reduce the novelty of it, if it had to happen.
Spock had said that they'd cross that bridge when they came to it, or possibly something more along the lines of "The two of us shall address that issue when and if it arises in the course of our duties, Captain," and that had really been that.
***
By the third Christmas, Jim was a little obsessed with the idea of a mindmeld with Spock.
He'd continued to argue his point about the possible need to meld in the course of duty. It was illogical to be ill-prepared, and also, Jim couldn't fathom why Spock didn't want to be in his - Kirk's - head. He figured it must be pretty awesome in there. It was his own mind, after all. But Spock had merely replied that if the need occurred, he could perform a shallow meld at any time in order to communicate some important information. Kirk thought the need was occurring right damn now: there was some important information he'd like to communicate about how Spock would look a lot better out of those pants, for one thing. But he kept his viewpoint to himself.
Spock had been, for lack of a better phrase, really quite lovely about letting Kirk down. He'd been so nice. They'd been getting closer and closer since Uhura had decided that it wasn't working out between her and Spock, and ended things. Kirk had, meanwhile, been doing his best to conceal his ridiculous attraction to Spock during the time they spent together. He figured he must've been doing pretty well if Spock hadn't figured it out. After all, it seemed like there was very little that escaped his Vulcan first officer's attention.
So he'd asked, and been turned down again, but he was okay with it. Spock was a free man, and Kirk was happy to spend more time with him, trying to convince him (in his own, low-key way, of course) of his potential fantasticness as a partner. So he booked them some free shifts together over Christmas, and let it drop.
***
Such was the position that Kirk had found himself in two weeks ago, just prior to his fourth Christmas with Spock. He was congratulating himself on a job well done (that of continuing to conceal his two-year crush on Spock - and frankly, he thought, he might as well call it by its real name, love, by now), and enjoying a rather nice snifter of brandy in Spock's quarters as part of a sort of pre-Holiday catch-up. Spock of course was abstaining. They were chatting about the elder Spock, Jim with much affection, when he realized that the same expression that had graced Spock's face all those years ago - a sort of cloudy frown - was appearing again now. Spock clearly didn't like hearing about his counterpart from Kirk. Why? Was he jealous?
Because that would be perfect. It didn't take a master strategician (though Kirk was one, anyway) to figure out that this was a bargaining chip. Now, how to use it...
In the end, he'd waited. He wanted to be perfectly sober; to keep up with Spock, one needed to be. And he wanted enough time to have passed to allay Spock's suspicions. But he'd used Spock's reaction against him. In Kirk's defense, if all went well, Spock would be quite happy in the long run. He hoped.
***
A week later found them in Rec Room Six, the last men standing in a holiday decorating-scheme cooked up by Scotty. Once everyone had cleared out Kirk meandered to the piano and played the beginning of a Bach piano concerto which always made him think of Christmas. A glance upwards told him that Spock had liked hearing the piece as much as he had enjoyed playing it. He was very adept at reading Spock's face these days. By the Vulcan's standards, Spock was basically beaming down at him.
In the ringing of the last note Kirk thought they'd reached a perfect concord. Looking into Spock's eyes, he considered abandoning his plan. He didn't want Spock to grant him a mind meld out of jealousy or spite. But one way or another, he was determined to meld with Spock.
"I have always been grateful for the understanding that comes with music, Jim. Your playing is lovely."
"Thanks, Spock." Jim grinned at the object of his affection. He got up and pulled the piano lid closed, and moved to stand toe-to-toe with Spock, their gazes locking.
"Would you say that understanding is the same sort of understanding that comes with a mind-meld?" he asked, unable to help himself.
Spock quirked his lips. "I suppose a similar spirit animates the two, indeed."
"I guess I could ask the Ambassador what he thinks when I see him," Kirk said, deciding to put an altered version of his plan into motion.
Kirk told Spock that the elder Spock had suggested a meld with Kirk to be consummated during their stop-off at New Vulcan in the new year. Jim hoped his acting was up to the task as he told Spock how excited he was for the upcoming (non-existant) meld.
"I've always wanted to try it out again - well, you know that, Spock. To be that close to someone..." he whispered.
Spock frowned. "Why would you choose the ambassador?" he asked.
Jim was honestly perplexed by the question.
"Why? Well, I guess he was my first. And I don't really have that many Vulcan friends, you know that," said Jim. "I suppose I could choose a Vulcan at random, but that wouldn't make much sense, not considering what you said about intimacy and all."
Spock lifted an eyebrow. "You remember that conversation? That was two years and three..."
"What?" Jim cut him off. "Of course I do. You know how long I've wanted this, this connection," said Jim, trying not to sound too needy.
"But you have not seen the Ambassador in over three years," reasoned Spock. "The connection that you seek may not be present any longer."
Jim knew that. He cast his eyes downward. Looking at Spock's shoes he said, "Yeah, I know. I've always known that it might not live up to my expectations, or my memories. But Spock, I've never felt that kind of acceptance before, acceptance of my whole self, you know..."
Spock surprised Jim thoroughly then, by putting a hand under Jim's chin and lifting it. "Jim. Do you not think that sort of acceptance might be more easily found with one who has known you for more than three years?"
Confusion furrowed Jim's brow. "What do you mean, Spock?"
"I know you to be an intelligent man, Jim. So I am assuming you are following me when I say that I am the one Vulcan who has known you for more than three years. Three years and two point three months, to be exact. There is no other Vulcan with whom you are as close. And if you wish to know the connection that comes with a meld, then it seems logical that I should be the one to perform it. I am the one who knows you, who is close to you. I shall give you a mindmeld - in fact, let us say, as you always seem to mention it at this time of year, that it shall be your Christmas present."
Jim broke out into his sunniest smile. He felt his dejection melt away, felt like all his Christmases had come at once.
"You'd do that?"
"Jim, if it is truly your wish I shall accommodate it," said Spock. "But after we have melded, I must ask that you reconsider your meld with the Ambassador."
Ah right.
"Of course, Spock!" Jim beamed. "When should we do it?"
Oh, he liked those words.
"Perhaps after the Christmas party? I suspect that, with the number of shore leaves we have jointly granted, there will be very few crewpersons in need of anything in particular then from their Captain or First Officer."
"Yes, it would be nice to have some peace and quiet," said Jim, reading between the lines. Spock graced him with his version of a smile once more.
"Very well, it is settled. Shall I come to your quarters once the party is finished, Jim?"
"Sounds good." Sounded better than good, actually.
Jim offered to walk Spock back in the direction of officer country, but Spock had an experiment to supervise (well, an experiment he wanted to supervise) and headed out in the opposite direction. After making certain Spock was out of (Vulcan) earshot, Jim did a little yelp and fist-pump of happiness, and began skipping down the corridors (well, in his own mind, in any case).
***
Kirk realized that he had forgotten an important mindmeld factor one morning a week before Christmas. His revelation came as he was brushing his teeth, so the toothpaste residue left behind when he spat the word 'fuck' onto his bathroom mirror was not insubstantial. Jim looked at the mess on the mirror and considered using a sonic toothbrush in the future.
He was an idiot. A complete idiot. There was no getting around it. Three years of pining after a mindmeld with Spock, and all he'd ever thought about was how it would bring them into such alignment and harmony, that Spock couldn't fail to see what a great partner Jim might make. That Spock would be undeniably attracted to Jim's mind. That's what had happened with the elder Spock, he thought. Though the Ambassador clearly had years of experience melding with his Jim. They fit pretty much perfectly. And he'd been the one to guide Jim. It had felt amazing, which is why he wanted to repeat it with his Spock. If he could just show them how well attuned their minds were ...
But for some reason, during all this time, he hadn't thought once about how Spock would be able to see into all of his thoughts. All the love, all the pining, all the attraction Kirk had been struggling to keep private. Private, private thoughts about Spock. Thoughts about stroking Spock's smooth back as the Vulcan arched over Jim in his bed, thoughts about slurping down Spock's dick in the shower, thoughts of them screwing in more exotic locations than he could count. Basically everywhere they'd been - and they'd been a lot of places - Kirk had thought about where they could have sex there.
Oh no. Kirk began to feel concerned as he recalled the number and type of fantasies he'd had about Spock. It was all harmless, he'd imagined - better than telling Spock how he felt about him, in any case. He could do whatever he wanted to in his own mind, right?
Apparently not. If Spock saw all of that...Kirk couldn't even begin to predict what the results would be. Would Spock be angry? Hurt? Shocked? Would he be forgiving if all Jim had was laid bare before him? No wonder Spock had spoken about intimacy as important to the mind meld.
What could he do? Maybe they could share a much shallower meld; Spock had said that was a possibility, some time ago. Though that would kind of defeat the purpose of showing Spock just how great they could be together. Maybe he should tell Spock that he'd changed his mind, that he didn't think a meld was such a great idea after all. But apart from the fact that it would be pretty suspicious to suddenly announce that he didn't want something that he'd obviously desired for years, that would be turning Spock down. Rejecting him. Jim couldn't do that.
He'd have to go through with it. Perhaps he could protect certain more x-rated portions of his mind and keep them from Spock. He knew Spock was certainly not the sort to pry.
But what if that stuff were floating on the surface when they initiated their meld? How could he ask Spock to avoid parts of his mind without it being really obvious? Argh. It was like someone saying 'elephant,' and then saying 'don't think about elephants.' Or in this case, sex with Spock. Jim knew which was more interesting...and which would be harder not to think about.
***
The night before the Christmas party, Jim was feeling wretched. He'd been trying to stop any and all fantasies about Spock, and it had been ridiculously impossible. A week of not masturbating had been ridiculous too. Jim was keyed up and laying in bed, the sheets twisting around his legs, sweating slightly. His hand kept creeping to the waistband of his shorts and then retreating. His cock was stiff, aching for some attention. It would be worse if he didn't do it, he reasoned, because he would be even hornier tomorrow. And then it would be impossible not to think of certain things when Spock started the meld.
Right. Only logical to masturbate. He laughed at the irony and quickly slipped his hand into the boxers, taking hold of his shaft and stroking his thick warm cock. Oh, it felt amazing. A week of no release meant his balls were heavy and ready to go. He palmed them, and then stroked behind them, feeling his asshole clench in pleasure. God, he wanted Spock's tongue right there. It wasn't possible not to think of Spock this way. Why did he even try? A drop of liquid appeared at his slit, and he took his other thumb and smeared the drop around the head. Using both hands, one stroking his cock and one slowly working its way into his ass, he came quickly, his shaft lifting and pumping spurt after spurt of warm creamy come onto his stomach. He noticed idly that he'd groaned out Spock's name when he came.
God, he was fucked. In a manner of speaking.
***
Jim nodded when Spock glanced pointedly at the door. The Christmas party was winding down and Jim couldn't be unhappier. Spock was actually suggesting that they go to his quarters together and meld. Normally this would be an occasion for jubilation. But right now he was preoccupied, worrying about whether Spock would run first, or run later, after throwing his eggnog at Kirk. Perhaps he would forgo that and punch him out instead. Or maybe strangulation. He'd seemed to favour that, albeit some time ago.
He crossed the room, saying goodbye to stragglers, dropping his glass of mulled-wine-dregs off by the door. Whatever Scotty had put in there, it was powerful. Not powerful enough to make him forget what he was about to do, of course.
He made it to Spock, and smiled. "Still up for it, Mister Spock?"
"Absolutely, Jim," Spock almost-smiled back.
Jim melted under the warmth of that expression. And the use of his first name. He couldn't resist it. Whatever happened in the meld, Jim knew Spock wouldn't hate him. He was too good for that.
"I'm ready, then. Well," he grinned, "I've been ready for a while now..."
Spock looked like he was suppressing a smirk. "Indeed."
They headed to Jim's quarters.
***
Once there, Jim wasn't as nervous as he'd predicted. He'd had some cleaning staff in, so that he wasn't embarrassed about the state of the place. Or the cleanliness of the sheets. Not that they were going to do anything on the bed. Of course.
He offered Spock his choice of beverages. Oddly, Spock didn't choose a glass of eggnog, or anything else, for that matter.
"Generally, Jim, it is better not to consume anything in particular before an extended meld."
"Why is that?" Kirk asked, wondering exactly what 'extended' meant in these circumstances.
"Simply because it is more difficult to focus on certain functions during a meld."
"So how long does one last, anyway?" Jim was picturing hours evaporating away, he and Spock locked in some sort of eternal meld, forgetting to pee.
"Melds usually last seconds, Jim. An extended meld might last five minutes."
"Oh. I thought..."
"Do not worry. Within the meld, the participants feel the passage of time much more slowly. A meld of a few seconds might feel as though..." Spock calculated..."approximately half an hour had passed. And a five minute meld; that could feel as though approximately seven to ten hours had elapsed."
"Approximately, Mister Spock?" Jim teased.
"It is hard to be more precise when it comes to melds, Jim."
"Right. So we're just going to spend hours wandering around in each other's minds?"
"It is possible," Spock said, his serious face on. "It depends upon whether it is a mutually enjoyable experience."
"Um," Kirk had kind of assumed that enjoyment was a given. What if Spock didn't like it in there? "I see."
"You do not, not yet. But I hope that you will. Let me shape the meld, liken it to something that you will recognize and enjoy. Let me guide you. This is my present to you, Jim," said Spock.
"That sounds great," said Kirk. He felt like his dreams were coming true.
"Let us sit somewhere where we will both be maximally comfortable," continued Spock, moving towards Kirk's bed.
Jim exulted (inside, of course), and followed him through his own quarters to the sleeping section. Yes, this was definitely the place where they should meld.
They settled themselves on the bed, after removing their shoes and their uniform overshirts (also for comfort, of course, as Spock had oh-so-logically explained).
Both entirely in black now, they mirrored each other on the bed. Kirk thought his palms might be sweating a little now. He was glad he wasn't the one who had to actually perform the meld. As they gazed at one another, Kirk realized that Spock had been right; it was ridiculously intimate. Their knees were touching; he was almost breathing Spock's breath. It was marvellous.
"Are you certain that you want to do this, Jim?" asked Spock quietly.
"Oh, absolutely," said Kirk, pinning him with the force of his gaze. "Abso-fucking-lutely."
Spock smiled a tiny smile and then reached out with his right hand to Kirk's face. Making firm contact with the psi-points he intoned the familiar, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts...."
"...to your thoughts," thought Kirk, and they were melded. They were one.
***
It was a giant Christmas tree, thought Kirk. He hadn't seen one so large since he was a kid. Maybe Spock had exaggerated the proportions for a reason. He seemed to be alone, though, so he couldn't ask the Vulcan.
He wandered around the room, a sort of log cabin; the platonic ideal of a log cabin, he would have to say, the kind of place anyone would love to spend Christmas. It was warm, homey, and featured comfy sofas and a roaring fireplace pretty prominently. Kirk wandered over to a table and picked up a mug of steaming liquid.
Figuring that it was unlikely that Spock would have fashioned anything to hurt him in the meld, he sipped at it. Mm, hot chocolate.
He checked out the cabin thoroughly; Spock was nowhere in sight.
But there were loads of presents under that tree, and they were all addressed to Jim. And Jim wasn't a genius for nothing.
He picked up the first he came across, a big square package, with shiny red wrapping. He tore the wrapping off - he'd never been a particularly careful person when it came to opening presents - and found a box inside. Opening the box, he saw...
...himself, walking with Pike and Sulu towards a turbolift. Pike announced that Kirk was to be First Officer, and that Spock was the Captain now. What? That didn't make sense. This cadet. So infuriating. Jim could see that Spock couldn't fathom it. But there was fascination, Spock couldn't resist a good puzzle. And he felt compelled to keep looking at Jim, as many times as he could manage it. Spock had to admit, even that early on, that Kirk was hard to look away from.
Kirk surfaced, grinned, and turned back to the pile of presents. He chose another one, long, flat, and green. Inside, he saw...
...himself, talking with Sarek after the destruction of Vulcan. It was another memory from Spock's viewpoint; Jim hadn't even realized that Spock had seen this encounter. Jim remembered meeting Sarek on the way out of sickbay, and trying desperately to express his sympathy about the loss of his wife. After some time during which it seemed that Jim was getting nowhere, he spread his fingers in the ta'al and spoke the Vulcan words, "I grieve with thee." Sarek had finally turned to Kirk, a tiny frown the only indicator of his immense sorrow. "Thank you, Mr. Kirk," said Spock's father. Kirk wondered whether it was only that exchange that had saved his life in events to follow. He was pleased to feel Spock's surprise and appreciation for the gesture, though.
Happily, Kirk turned to the next present. This one showed a scene some months in the future. Jim and Scotty were tinkering together in Engineering as Spock entered on a mission to find the Captain. Banter of an unsavoury nature was being traded back and forth. The Captain turned out to be covered in some extensive grease as he slid out from a jefferies tube, holding a sonic wrench and sporting a satisfied smile. The whole scene was, apparently, somewhat endearing to Vulcans.
The memories came thick and fast, as Kirk opened more and more boxes. It was addictive to see these scenes unfolding from Spock's point of view, he was finding. He saw memories of their away missions together, memories of visits to various Federation planets, memories of their shared conversations, chess games, and social time together. Jim was gratified to see that Spock had really enjoyed all of that, that he really did value Jim as a friend.
He noticed he'd gotten through almost all of the presents. Only a few more shiny boxes awaited his attention. He picked some of them up and shook some, trying to figure out which to go for next, when he noticed a tiny box at the base of the tree. It was lurking behind a rather large ornament, and was the size of, say, a ring box. it was covered in brown paper and had no tag to address it to Jim. Intrigued, and slightly confused, he thought about leaving it there. It was almost camouflaged, he thought. But of course curiosity got the better of him, and his picked it up, holding it to his ear, as though it might speak to him.
He pried the lid off with a finger, unsure, and looked inside. He saw...
...himself, in a recent holopic. It was a strange picture, taken in the middle of a mission. He remembered it not because of the amount of adventure they'd had, or the things they'd accomplished, but because of the number of things that had gone wrong. He was wearing a sort of sarong, and was bare to the waist, making a reconciliation speech in the middle of a field of flowers. Sunlight bathed his bare torso and gleamed golden off his hair. It was a ridiculous image, really. But he'd done more ridiculous things in the pursuit of cultural understanding, that was for sure.
He, as Spock, was looking at the picture. This was clearly another memory. But not one he'd seen before, nor one where he was anywhere nearby. He couldn't see himself anywhere; the only way he featured was in the pic, which Spock's fingers were gripping tightly. He had the impression he was in Spock's quarters.
With a start, he realized he could hear a soft breathy sound. And a moan. Then another. Suspicion started forming in his mind and he looked down. He could see Spock's hand grasping his own penis, the flushed green tip emerging from his fist. Spock was pumping it up and down, quite quickly now, and was breathing more and more rapidly.
Oh my god. Spock was masturbating. Spock! Wanking! To an image of him. Holy fuck.
"No no no...." he said. Or rather, Spock said, as Jim was transported back into the cabin from the memory.
"No No No NO NO..." the refrain got louder as Spock materialized and grabbed Kirk and they tumbled together across the floor, their limbs intertwining with the force of it. Jim was tugged from the memory and away from the Christmas tree.
Spock was breathing heavily, as in the memory. "Jim. No. You were..." he paused to collect some breath, "You were not..." He looked more distraught than Jim had ever seen him.
"Spock, no, don't..."
"You were not supposed to see that..."
"No, Spock, I..."
"Jim," Spock intoned softly, distress clouding his features. "I am so very sorry, I cannot express the..."
"No, Spock, no," Jim panted. They held each other still. "Let me explain. Let me show you something I thought I'd never get to show you." He thought hard, and formed a memory, and then felt it coming together. He urged Spock to sit with him, close together, on the floor near the fireplace. Jim held out his hand to Spock. Held there was a small box, no larger than the one which had contained Spock's most recent memory.
Spock took it, concern still showing on his face, but looked straight at Jim when he opened it reverently.
Some time later he emerged with perhaps the largest smile on his face Kirk had ever seen. Jim had chosen to show him his own memory of masturbating the previous night to thoughts of Spock. He knew the kicker had been when he groaned out Spock's name in orgasm. Melds were great that way.
"We've been blind, hey Spock?" he said, tracing the Vulcan's jawline with a finger. "All this time..."
"Mm, but for no longer, Jim," replied Spock, leaning in for a delighted kiss.
Jim imagined a soft bearskin rug beneath them. Melds really were the best Christmas present ever, he thought as Spock guided him down in front of the fireplace, tugging off Kirk's sweater as they went.
Spock's delighted laughter reverberated in Jim's mind for some time.
Beta: Unbetaed, I suck at the moment.
Series: STXI
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5200
Warnings: Nothing in particular, my usual servings of fluff with a small side of naughtiness.
Summary: Spock gives Kirk a meld for Christmas. Kirk sees more than Spock intends for him to.
Ding Dong Merrily on High
James T. Kirk skipped merrily down the corridors of the U.S.S. Enterprise.
Alright, perhaps he didn't actually skip, perhaps he proceeded with his usual professional gait: a sure, steady stride borne of both military training at Starfleet Academy and three-and-a-bit years of experience in navigating those selfsame corridors.
But inside, Kirk was skipping. He was also whistling, jumping for joy, doing his happy dance (it was kind of a ridiculous dance, but hey, he was only doing it inside his head where no one else could see it), running around gleefully in circles - whatever type of celebration you wanted, he was doing it.
He felt like decking those halls with boughs of holly; he felt like singing; he felt like Ebenezer-frickin'-Scrooge on Christmas Day, and all because Spock had said yes. Spock had finally said yes.
YES!
Well, not to a certain well-known question; not even to a question of slightly lesser (but still pressing) importance, such as, "Would you like to date me, Spock," or possibly the more risqué, "Would you like to fuck me, Spock?," but the fact remained that he had said yes.
Spock had said that he would - finally, finally - meld the two of them, that he would give Jim a mindmeld for his upcoming Christmas present.
In actuality, Spock had said, "Very well, Jim, if it is truly your wish I shall accommodate it," which sounded more like capitulation than enthusiasm to Kirk, but frankly, he'd take it.
Unbelievable. Three Christmases Jim had asked, only to be turned down.
The first Christmas followed immediately upon Kirk's assumption of the role of Captain. Six weeks they'd been in space, and Jim had already made two major mistakes (well, two concerning Spock, in any case; his other mistakes certainly numbered more than two):
Mistake the First:
He let slip that he'd met Spock's own older self from an alternate reality. He and Spock were piloting a shuttle to a distant lunar settlement, carrying some desperately needed supplies, and Jim should've known that something like this would bubble to the surface when he and Spock had eight hours together with nothing but time to kill. When he realized his mistake he swore loudly. Thankfully nothing in particular happened: Spock clearly already knew who he was talking about, so Jim was saved from his own foolishness (and from universe-ending paradoxes) by his ever-present luck.
Mistake the Second:
He'd then compounded the first mistake by telling Spock about the meld he'd shared with Spock's counterpart, elaborating happily on how it had been one of the most interesting experiences of his life (circumstances aside), and that he really wanted to feel that connection again. But after Kirk had described his enjoyment (okay, after he'd gone on about it at length), Spock's visage had taken on a dark cloud and the Vulcan had clammed up for the rest of the journey. Which meant five further hours of gruelling silence filled with only the beeping of various automatic systems and the occasional hail to keep Jim company.
So that hadn't gone well.
***
Kirk had wanted to bring it up throughout his first year of command, but it was a strange, personal topic, and as they were working together so well professionally, he didn't want to screw it up. Somehow Spock made him shy, contemplative; made him ponder things that nobody else had before.
But by the second Christmas on the Enterprise, though only a little more than a year into their mission, Kirk felt he knew Spock well enough to try again. He didn't know whether it was the reminder that he'd wanted a meld a year previously; perhaps it was the Christmas spirit (or the Christmas spirits, ho ho ho); but whatever it was, he'd asked again.
And again, it hadn't gone well. Jim had just gotten Spock to start spending more of his free time socializing with him and not Uhura (or the latest experiment he was supervising or the latest star charts he was consulting or the latest array data they'd received...etc. etc.). That part was great. It wasn't that he was trying to take Spock away from Uhura (of course he wasn't! Um...). He just wanted a bit more of Spock to himself. Was that so wrong?
And so it was, that during a fairly decent chat they were having in Spock's quarters, Jim remembered the idea of melds and thought it might be a good time to bring up his request again. Maybe it was the whiskey.
In any case, Spock had essentially said that if he wasn't giving melds to Uhura (and he wasn't, and wasn't that interesting?), there was basically no way he was giving one to Kirk. Intimacy and fore-knowledge seemed to be watchwords of the procedure, at least for Spock, and Kirk had nothing to refute that. But he'd tried! Jim had (quite logically, he thought) pointed out the fact that they may need to meld in the future in the course of duty, and surely melding beforehand would be a good way to reduce the novelty of it, if it had to happen.
Spock had said that they'd cross that bridge when they came to it, or possibly something more along the lines of "The two of us shall address that issue when and if it arises in the course of our duties, Captain," and that had really been that.
***
By the third Christmas, Jim was a little obsessed with the idea of a mindmeld with Spock.
He'd continued to argue his point about the possible need to meld in the course of duty. It was illogical to be ill-prepared, and also, Jim couldn't fathom why Spock didn't want to be in his - Kirk's - head. He figured it must be pretty awesome in there. It was his own mind, after all. But Spock had merely replied that if the need occurred, he could perform a shallow meld at any time in order to communicate some important information. Kirk thought the need was occurring right damn now: there was some important information he'd like to communicate about how Spock would look a lot better out of those pants, for one thing. But he kept his viewpoint to himself.
Spock had been, for lack of a better phrase, really quite lovely about letting Kirk down. He'd been so nice. They'd been getting closer and closer since Uhura had decided that it wasn't working out between her and Spock, and ended things. Kirk had, meanwhile, been doing his best to conceal his ridiculous attraction to Spock during the time they spent together. He figured he must've been doing pretty well if Spock hadn't figured it out. After all, it seemed like there was very little that escaped his Vulcan first officer's attention.
So he'd asked, and been turned down again, but he was okay with it. Spock was a free man, and Kirk was happy to spend more time with him, trying to convince him (in his own, low-key way, of course) of his potential fantasticness as a partner. So he booked them some free shifts together over Christmas, and let it drop.
***
Such was the position that Kirk had found himself in two weeks ago, just prior to his fourth Christmas with Spock. He was congratulating himself on a job well done (that of continuing to conceal his two-year crush on Spock - and frankly, he thought, he might as well call it by its real name, love, by now), and enjoying a rather nice snifter of brandy in Spock's quarters as part of a sort of pre-Holiday catch-up. Spock of course was abstaining. They were chatting about the elder Spock, Jim with much affection, when he realized that the same expression that had graced Spock's face all those years ago - a sort of cloudy frown - was appearing again now. Spock clearly didn't like hearing about his counterpart from Kirk. Why? Was he jealous?
Because that would be perfect. It didn't take a master strategician (though Kirk was one, anyway) to figure out that this was a bargaining chip. Now, how to use it...
In the end, he'd waited. He wanted to be perfectly sober; to keep up with Spock, one needed to be. And he wanted enough time to have passed to allay Spock's suspicions. But he'd used Spock's reaction against him. In Kirk's defense, if all went well, Spock would be quite happy in the long run. He hoped.
***
A week later found them in Rec Room Six, the last men standing in a holiday decorating-scheme cooked up by Scotty. Once everyone had cleared out Kirk meandered to the piano and played the beginning of a Bach piano concerto which always made him think of Christmas. A glance upwards told him that Spock had liked hearing the piece as much as he had enjoyed playing it. He was very adept at reading Spock's face these days. By the Vulcan's standards, Spock was basically beaming down at him.
In the ringing of the last note Kirk thought they'd reached a perfect concord. Looking into Spock's eyes, he considered abandoning his plan. He didn't want Spock to grant him a mind meld out of jealousy or spite. But one way or another, he was determined to meld with Spock.
"I have always been grateful for the understanding that comes with music, Jim. Your playing is lovely."
"Thanks, Spock." Jim grinned at the object of his affection. He got up and pulled the piano lid closed, and moved to stand toe-to-toe with Spock, their gazes locking.
"Would you say that understanding is the same sort of understanding that comes with a mind-meld?" he asked, unable to help himself.
Spock quirked his lips. "I suppose a similar spirit animates the two, indeed."
"I guess I could ask the Ambassador what he thinks when I see him," Kirk said, deciding to put an altered version of his plan into motion.
Kirk told Spock that the elder Spock had suggested a meld with Kirk to be consummated during their stop-off at New Vulcan in the new year. Jim hoped his acting was up to the task as he told Spock how excited he was for the upcoming (non-existant) meld.
"I've always wanted to try it out again - well, you know that, Spock. To be that close to someone..." he whispered.
Spock frowned. "Why would you choose the ambassador?" he asked.
Jim was honestly perplexed by the question.
"Why? Well, I guess he was my first. And I don't really have that many Vulcan friends, you know that," said Jim. "I suppose I could choose a Vulcan at random, but that wouldn't make much sense, not considering what you said about intimacy and all."
Spock lifted an eyebrow. "You remember that conversation? That was two years and three..."
"What?" Jim cut him off. "Of course I do. You know how long I've wanted this, this connection," said Jim, trying not to sound too needy.
"But you have not seen the Ambassador in over three years," reasoned Spock. "The connection that you seek may not be present any longer."
Jim knew that. He cast his eyes downward. Looking at Spock's shoes he said, "Yeah, I know. I've always known that it might not live up to my expectations, or my memories. But Spock, I've never felt that kind of acceptance before, acceptance of my whole self, you know..."
Spock surprised Jim thoroughly then, by putting a hand under Jim's chin and lifting it. "Jim. Do you not think that sort of acceptance might be more easily found with one who has known you for more than three years?"
Confusion furrowed Jim's brow. "What do you mean, Spock?"
"I know you to be an intelligent man, Jim. So I am assuming you are following me when I say that I am the one Vulcan who has known you for more than three years. Three years and two point three months, to be exact. There is no other Vulcan with whom you are as close. And if you wish to know the connection that comes with a meld, then it seems logical that I should be the one to perform it. I am the one who knows you, who is close to you. I shall give you a mindmeld - in fact, let us say, as you always seem to mention it at this time of year, that it shall be your Christmas present."
Jim broke out into his sunniest smile. He felt his dejection melt away, felt like all his Christmases had come at once.
"You'd do that?"
"Jim, if it is truly your wish I shall accommodate it," said Spock. "But after we have melded, I must ask that you reconsider your meld with the Ambassador."
Ah right.
"Of course, Spock!" Jim beamed. "When should we do it?"
Oh, he liked those words.
"Perhaps after the Christmas party? I suspect that, with the number of shore leaves we have jointly granted, there will be very few crewpersons in need of anything in particular then from their Captain or First Officer."
"Yes, it would be nice to have some peace and quiet," said Jim, reading between the lines. Spock graced him with his version of a smile once more.
"Very well, it is settled. Shall I come to your quarters once the party is finished, Jim?"
"Sounds good." Sounded better than good, actually.
Jim offered to walk Spock back in the direction of officer country, but Spock had an experiment to supervise (well, an experiment he wanted to supervise) and headed out in the opposite direction. After making certain Spock was out of (Vulcan) earshot, Jim did a little yelp and fist-pump of happiness, and began skipping down the corridors (well, in his own mind, in any case).
***
Kirk realized that he had forgotten an important mindmeld factor one morning a week before Christmas. His revelation came as he was brushing his teeth, so the toothpaste residue left behind when he spat the word 'fuck' onto his bathroom mirror was not insubstantial. Jim looked at the mess on the mirror and considered using a sonic toothbrush in the future.
He was an idiot. A complete idiot. There was no getting around it. Three years of pining after a mindmeld with Spock, and all he'd ever thought about was how it would bring them into such alignment and harmony, that Spock couldn't fail to see what a great partner Jim might make. That Spock would be undeniably attracted to Jim's mind. That's what had happened with the elder Spock, he thought. Though the Ambassador clearly had years of experience melding with his Jim. They fit pretty much perfectly. And he'd been the one to guide Jim. It had felt amazing, which is why he wanted to repeat it with his Spock. If he could just show them how well attuned their minds were ...
But for some reason, during all this time, he hadn't thought once about how Spock would be able to see into all of his thoughts. All the love, all the pining, all the attraction Kirk had been struggling to keep private. Private, private thoughts about Spock. Thoughts about stroking Spock's smooth back as the Vulcan arched over Jim in his bed, thoughts about slurping down Spock's dick in the shower, thoughts of them screwing in more exotic locations than he could count. Basically everywhere they'd been - and they'd been a lot of places - Kirk had thought about where they could have sex there.
Oh no. Kirk began to feel concerned as he recalled the number and type of fantasies he'd had about Spock. It was all harmless, he'd imagined - better than telling Spock how he felt about him, in any case. He could do whatever he wanted to in his own mind, right?
Apparently not. If Spock saw all of that...Kirk couldn't even begin to predict what the results would be. Would Spock be angry? Hurt? Shocked? Would he be forgiving if all Jim had was laid bare before him? No wonder Spock had spoken about intimacy as important to the mind meld.
What could he do? Maybe they could share a much shallower meld; Spock had said that was a possibility, some time ago. Though that would kind of defeat the purpose of showing Spock just how great they could be together. Maybe he should tell Spock that he'd changed his mind, that he didn't think a meld was such a great idea after all. But apart from the fact that it would be pretty suspicious to suddenly announce that he didn't want something that he'd obviously desired for years, that would be turning Spock down. Rejecting him. Jim couldn't do that.
He'd have to go through with it. Perhaps he could protect certain more x-rated portions of his mind and keep them from Spock. He knew Spock was certainly not the sort to pry.
But what if that stuff were floating on the surface when they initiated their meld? How could he ask Spock to avoid parts of his mind without it being really obvious? Argh. It was like someone saying 'elephant,' and then saying 'don't think about elephants.' Or in this case, sex with Spock. Jim knew which was more interesting...and which would be harder not to think about.
***
The night before the Christmas party, Jim was feeling wretched. He'd been trying to stop any and all fantasies about Spock, and it had been ridiculously impossible. A week of not masturbating had been ridiculous too. Jim was keyed up and laying in bed, the sheets twisting around his legs, sweating slightly. His hand kept creeping to the waistband of his shorts and then retreating. His cock was stiff, aching for some attention. It would be worse if he didn't do it, he reasoned, because he would be even hornier tomorrow. And then it would be impossible not to think of certain things when Spock started the meld.
Right. Only logical to masturbate. He laughed at the irony and quickly slipped his hand into the boxers, taking hold of his shaft and stroking his thick warm cock. Oh, it felt amazing. A week of no release meant his balls were heavy and ready to go. He palmed them, and then stroked behind them, feeling his asshole clench in pleasure. God, he wanted Spock's tongue right there. It wasn't possible not to think of Spock this way. Why did he even try? A drop of liquid appeared at his slit, and he took his other thumb and smeared the drop around the head. Using both hands, one stroking his cock and one slowly working its way into his ass, he came quickly, his shaft lifting and pumping spurt after spurt of warm creamy come onto his stomach. He noticed idly that he'd groaned out Spock's name when he came.
God, he was fucked. In a manner of speaking.
***
Jim nodded when Spock glanced pointedly at the door. The Christmas party was winding down and Jim couldn't be unhappier. Spock was actually suggesting that they go to his quarters together and meld. Normally this would be an occasion for jubilation. But right now he was preoccupied, worrying about whether Spock would run first, or run later, after throwing his eggnog at Kirk. Perhaps he would forgo that and punch him out instead. Or maybe strangulation. He'd seemed to favour that, albeit some time ago.
He crossed the room, saying goodbye to stragglers, dropping his glass of mulled-wine-dregs off by the door. Whatever Scotty had put in there, it was powerful. Not powerful enough to make him forget what he was about to do, of course.
He made it to Spock, and smiled. "Still up for it, Mister Spock?"
"Absolutely, Jim," Spock almost-smiled back.
Jim melted under the warmth of that expression. And the use of his first name. He couldn't resist it. Whatever happened in the meld, Jim knew Spock wouldn't hate him. He was too good for that.
"I'm ready, then. Well," he grinned, "I've been ready for a while now..."
Spock looked like he was suppressing a smirk. "Indeed."
They headed to Jim's quarters.
***
Once there, Jim wasn't as nervous as he'd predicted. He'd had some cleaning staff in, so that he wasn't embarrassed about the state of the place. Or the cleanliness of the sheets. Not that they were going to do anything on the bed. Of course.
He offered Spock his choice of beverages. Oddly, Spock didn't choose a glass of eggnog, or anything else, for that matter.
"Generally, Jim, it is better not to consume anything in particular before an extended meld."
"Why is that?" Kirk asked, wondering exactly what 'extended' meant in these circumstances.
"Simply because it is more difficult to focus on certain functions during a meld."
"So how long does one last, anyway?" Jim was picturing hours evaporating away, he and Spock locked in some sort of eternal meld, forgetting to pee.
"Melds usually last seconds, Jim. An extended meld might last five minutes."
"Oh. I thought..."
"Do not worry. Within the meld, the participants feel the passage of time much more slowly. A meld of a few seconds might feel as though..." Spock calculated..."approximately half an hour had passed. And a five minute meld; that could feel as though approximately seven to ten hours had elapsed."
"Approximately, Mister Spock?" Jim teased.
"It is hard to be more precise when it comes to melds, Jim."
"Right. So we're just going to spend hours wandering around in each other's minds?"
"It is possible," Spock said, his serious face on. "It depends upon whether it is a mutually enjoyable experience."
"Um," Kirk had kind of assumed that enjoyment was a given. What if Spock didn't like it in there? "I see."
"You do not, not yet. But I hope that you will. Let me shape the meld, liken it to something that you will recognize and enjoy. Let me guide you. This is my present to you, Jim," said Spock.
"That sounds great," said Kirk. He felt like his dreams were coming true.
"Let us sit somewhere where we will both be maximally comfortable," continued Spock, moving towards Kirk's bed.
Jim exulted (inside, of course), and followed him through his own quarters to the sleeping section. Yes, this was definitely the place where they should meld.
They settled themselves on the bed, after removing their shoes and their uniform overshirts (also for comfort, of course, as Spock had oh-so-logically explained).
Both entirely in black now, they mirrored each other on the bed. Kirk thought his palms might be sweating a little now. He was glad he wasn't the one who had to actually perform the meld. As they gazed at one another, Kirk realized that Spock had been right; it was ridiculously intimate. Their knees were touching; he was almost breathing Spock's breath. It was marvellous.
"Are you certain that you want to do this, Jim?" asked Spock quietly.
"Oh, absolutely," said Kirk, pinning him with the force of his gaze. "Abso-fucking-lutely."
Spock smiled a tiny smile and then reached out with his right hand to Kirk's face. Making firm contact with the psi-points he intoned the familiar, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts...."
"...to your thoughts," thought Kirk, and they were melded. They were one.
***
It was a giant Christmas tree, thought Kirk. He hadn't seen one so large since he was a kid. Maybe Spock had exaggerated the proportions for a reason. He seemed to be alone, though, so he couldn't ask the Vulcan.
He wandered around the room, a sort of log cabin; the platonic ideal of a log cabin, he would have to say, the kind of place anyone would love to spend Christmas. It was warm, homey, and featured comfy sofas and a roaring fireplace pretty prominently. Kirk wandered over to a table and picked up a mug of steaming liquid.
Figuring that it was unlikely that Spock would have fashioned anything to hurt him in the meld, he sipped at it. Mm, hot chocolate.
He checked out the cabin thoroughly; Spock was nowhere in sight.
But there were loads of presents under that tree, and they were all addressed to Jim. And Jim wasn't a genius for nothing.
He picked up the first he came across, a big square package, with shiny red wrapping. He tore the wrapping off - he'd never been a particularly careful person when it came to opening presents - and found a box inside. Opening the box, he saw...
...himself, walking with Pike and Sulu towards a turbolift. Pike announced that Kirk was to be First Officer, and that Spock was the Captain now. What? That didn't make sense. This cadet. So infuriating. Jim could see that Spock couldn't fathom it. But there was fascination, Spock couldn't resist a good puzzle. And he felt compelled to keep looking at Jim, as many times as he could manage it. Spock had to admit, even that early on, that Kirk was hard to look away from.
Kirk surfaced, grinned, and turned back to the pile of presents. He chose another one, long, flat, and green. Inside, he saw...
...himself, talking with Sarek after the destruction of Vulcan. It was another memory from Spock's viewpoint; Jim hadn't even realized that Spock had seen this encounter. Jim remembered meeting Sarek on the way out of sickbay, and trying desperately to express his sympathy about the loss of his wife. After some time during which it seemed that Jim was getting nowhere, he spread his fingers in the ta'al and spoke the Vulcan words, "I grieve with thee." Sarek had finally turned to Kirk, a tiny frown the only indicator of his immense sorrow. "Thank you, Mr. Kirk," said Spock's father. Kirk wondered whether it was only that exchange that had saved his life in events to follow. He was pleased to feel Spock's surprise and appreciation for the gesture, though.
Happily, Kirk turned to the next present. This one showed a scene some months in the future. Jim and Scotty were tinkering together in Engineering as Spock entered on a mission to find the Captain. Banter of an unsavoury nature was being traded back and forth. The Captain turned out to be covered in some extensive grease as he slid out from a jefferies tube, holding a sonic wrench and sporting a satisfied smile. The whole scene was, apparently, somewhat endearing to Vulcans.
The memories came thick and fast, as Kirk opened more and more boxes. It was addictive to see these scenes unfolding from Spock's point of view, he was finding. He saw memories of their away missions together, memories of visits to various Federation planets, memories of their shared conversations, chess games, and social time together. Jim was gratified to see that Spock had really enjoyed all of that, that he really did value Jim as a friend.
He noticed he'd gotten through almost all of the presents. Only a few more shiny boxes awaited his attention. He picked some of them up and shook some, trying to figure out which to go for next, when he noticed a tiny box at the base of the tree. It was lurking behind a rather large ornament, and was the size of, say, a ring box. it was covered in brown paper and had no tag to address it to Jim. Intrigued, and slightly confused, he thought about leaving it there. It was almost camouflaged, he thought. But of course curiosity got the better of him, and his picked it up, holding it to his ear, as though it might speak to him.
He pried the lid off with a finger, unsure, and looked inside. He saw...
...himself, in a recent holopic. It was a strange picture, taken in the middle of a mission. He remembered it not because of the amount of adventure they'd had, or the things they'd accomplished, but because of the number of things that had gone wrong. He was wearing a sort of sarong, and was bare to the waist, making a reconciliation speech in the middle of a field of flowers. Sunlight bathed his bare torso and gleamed golden off his hair. It was a ridiculous image, really. But he'd done more ridiculous things in the pursuit of cultural understanding, that was for sure.
He, as Spock, was looking at the picture. This was clearly another memory. But not one he'd seen before, nor one where he was anywhere nearby. He couldn't see himself anywhere; the only way he featured was in the pic, which Spock's fingers were gripping tightly. He had the impression he was in Spock's quarters.
With a start, he realized he could hear a soft breathy sound. And a moan. Then another. Suspicion started forming in his mind and he looked down. He could see Spock's hand grasping his own penis, the flushed green tip emerging from his fist. Spock was pumping it up and down, quite quickly now, and was breathing more and more rapidly.
Oh my god. Spock was masturbating. Spock! Wanking! To an image of him. Holy fuck.
"No no no...." he said. Or rather, Spock said, as Jim was transported back into the cabin from the memory.
"No No No NO NO..." the refrain got louder as Spock materialized and grabbed Kirk and they tumbled together across the floor, their limbs intertwining with the force of it. Jim was tugged from the memory and away from the Christmas tree.
Spock was breathing heavily, as in the memory. "Jim. No. You were..." he paused to collect some breath, "You were not..." He looked more distraught than Jim had ever seen him.
"Spock, no, don't..."
"You were not supposed to see that..."
"No, Spock, I..."
"Jim," Spock intoned softly, distress clouding his features. "I am so very sorry, I cannot express the..."
"No, Spock, no," Jim panted. They held each other still. "Let me explain. Let me show you something I thought I'd never get to show you." He thought hard, and formed a memory, and then felt it coming together. He urged Spock to sit with him, close together, on the floor near the fireplace. Jim held out his hand to Spock. Held there was a small box, no larger than the one which had contained Spock's most recent memory.
Spock took it, concern still showing on his face, but looked straight at Jim when he opened it reverently.
Some time later he emerged with perhaps the largest smile on his face Kirk had ever seen. Jim had chosen to show him his own memory of masturbating the previous night to thoughts of Spock. He knew the kicker had been when he groaned out Spock's name in orgasm. Melds were great that way.
"We've been blind, hey Spock?" he said, tracing the Vulcan's jawline with a finger. "All this time..."
"Mm, but for no longer, Jim," replied Spock, leaning in for a delighted kiss.
Jim imagined a soft bearskin rug beneath them. Melds really were the best Christmas present ever, he thought as Spock guided him down in front of the fireplace, tugging off Kirk's sweater as they went.
Spock's delighted laughter reverberated in Jim's mind for some time.