Fic: The Ties that Bind, Chapter 8/10, Kirk/Spock
Title: The Ties that Bind, Chapter 8/10
Pairings: Kirk/Spock (with some background Sulu/Chekov UST)
Rating: NC-17
Length: Too long, so splitting this into 2 parts then continuing. This part: 4.5k
For: awarrington ♥ and all my other awesome feedbackers
Warnings: None
Summary: The Enterprise crew makes contact with a planet where an all-male society thinks they're sexual catnip, and decides to keep and marry them all against their will
A/N: Sorry, I'm working from the briefest notes here and it's expanding like a black hole as I go. 2 more till we're done? Chapter 9 is about 1k from done, hopefully posting later tonight.
“I know you're in there, Jimbo. Open up those baby blues for me.”
“You're only calling me that because you know I'll wake up to tell you to cut it out.” I open my eyes to squint up at Bones, who's leaning over me on the biobed. “So I'm not dead?”
“Not yet, but give me time to come up with something . . .” He hands me a cup and helps me into a sitting position before parting his hair and pointing at a miniscule speck of gray. “You see this? White hairs. I'm a man in my prime and you're actively contributing to the onset of achromotrichia.”
“Baby, you'll always be pretty to me.” I scratch into the beard that's living on borrowed time now I'm not dead and back on-board. “What happened back there?”
“'Back there' was two days ago.” He starts scanning me as I begin to notice stuff, primarily the lack of agonizing pain.“I'd hoped that the steroid shot would buffer the transition into a new atmosphere but your lungs were already half-full of fluid and couldn't take the sudden change in environment.”
“Ew. Hey, nothing hurts. You're a little miracle, you know that?”
“You have no idea.” He tosses a PADD into my lap. “Want to read up on the godwaful mess you were in once we got you here?”
“No. Gimme a run down, I've got cotton mouth.”
I sip from my cup as he perches on the side of my bed, and the water's untainted, plain and tasteless and it hits me for the first time that I'm not there anymore. I'm not on Ping. I'm free. I don't know where to start taking that on.
“Precancerous tumors in three of your four cerebral lobes, your lymph glands, your kidneys and liver, upper colon and testes.”
I near spit out my water and he glances at me.
“Yeah. Noncardiogenic pulmonary edema. Septis presenting with tachycardia, fever and abnormal white blood cell count. Muscle wastage, dehydration and severe malnutrition, high nanogrammatic count of androgen and luteinizing hormone. All major organs enlarged, soft tissues inflamed and ulcerated. Gastrointestinal distress, including,” He takes a deep breath here. “Duodenal peptic ulcers, multiple counts. Colonic distension and ulcerative colitis, pancreatic atrophy. Your gut was several shades of fucked up. I fixed up your shoulder, too. Consider that your complimentary gift as our most frequent customer.”
“I'm not sure that's fair.” He sighs and scrubs over his face with his hands. When he takes them away I notice he looks exhausted, lines digging deep each side of his mouth. “Okay, Doctor, spill - When was the last time you slept?”
“You were this close, Jim. Nearly lost you several times.”
“But I'm all better now, right?” I stretch out my arms, the shaking gone. “Feel like a new man.”
“You're weak and underweight, and I don't want you loading your shiny new gut with all kinds of greasy, spicy crap. I've programmed you a new diet. No spices, nothing too acidic or fibrous, but bland, high energy stodge. And no alcohol, either. You can stick to synthehol for a month.”
“A month?”
“Gentle exercise only. No coffee.”
“Now you're just being mean.”
“Maybe the hobgoblin'll share some of his tea with you.” He reaches out to pat my shoulder, his fingers stroking over my surgical tunic. “I can't advise you on that, but you've got to realize you've been through significant trauma. This is going to hit you hard.”
“Yeah.” I pat his hand and stare at my toes. “I know. So. You know that I . . . Spock . . .”
“I've got eyes in my head, don't I?”
“What the fuck am I going to do.”
It's not a question. His hand stills and there's a long pause, his words gruff when they come. “What you're going to do is focus on getting well. We're on route to Earth, almost four days out. There's this guy at Starfleet Medical I knew in the academy who's the only person I'd trust to poke around that intricate psyche of yours.”
“No.”
“Starfleet's authorized a month's medical leave. You're on vacation, kiddo.”
“No! Jesus, I can't - ”
“You can and you will.”
How can I make him understand? “I just got back here. There's this whole mess to sort out - ”
“Which someone else is responsible for.” The stroking starts again for a moment before his hand falls away. “We're all trying to deal with it. The whole away team's on partial duties only for four weeks, myself included when I'm not trying to glue you back together at the seams. I swear, I've seen decomposing bodies in a better state than yours was. But I know you, and know what you've been putting yourself through. You volunteered to die. That's huge, considering your personal history.”
“Don't send me away.” It feels panicky and desperate, my eyes prickling. “Keep me off duty onboard. Please, Bones. Don't make me beg.”
“You'd last less than forty eight hours before you started poking your nose into ship's business.” He gets up off the biobed, lifting the PADD and making notes, probably that I've been officially informed of medical leave and am reacting unfavorably as expected. “I know you need the familiar around you now, I get that, but you're no good to us here till you've processed your trauma and are fit for duty. Do I make myself clear?”
So he does understand. “Crystal. Four days?”
“Give or take a few hours.”
“Then get me back to my quarters.”
Four days. It's not nearly enough.
-
“Dammit, Yeoman, I'm not an invalid! I can do it myself.”
So much for being nicer to Rand. Her eyes go big and worried, the spoon in her hand quivering before she grips it harder and thrusts it at my mouth once more with renewed determination. “Doctor McCoy was adamant that I got you to eat, and you keep pushing the plate away.”
“I'm full.”
“Eat it.”
“'Sir'.”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. Looks like discipline's gotten a little lax while I've been away. “Eat the mashed potato, sir. Three more spoons and I'll let you stop.”
“'Let' me? Give that here.” I grab the spoon from her and stuff three spoonfuls in at once, spraying reconstituted potato over my knees when I try to speak. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Sir.” Her hand moves towards my lap with a napkin.
“I'll take care of that.”
I take the napkin from her to clean up the mess, throwing it into the lunch tray and covering up the cup of pudding. She gives me a 'nice try' smile and pulls it off, taking the cup of pudding and placing it on the table in front of me. “I'll be back in three hours with some hearty soup and crackers. I want to see this empty when I do. Understood, Captain?”
Oh, dear God, Rand's turned into my mom. “You going to put me in my jammies and bunny slippers, too? How about a night-night story when you tuck me into bed?”
She mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like In your dreams, buddy as she crosses to the cycler to dispose of the rest of the potato, crashing plates as she does so. Then she tidies the rest of the tray and turns to me again with a bright smile that's almost managing to hide her irritation, the tray gripped firmly between both hands.
“Anything else? I'm only five seconds away if you need help with anything.”
“I'm fine, thank you.” I rub a hand over my head, feeling like an asshole, which is fair considering that's how I've been acting over the last few hours. “Sorry I'm so . . . y'know.”
There it is. That sympathetic smile that everyone's been shooting in my direction, Bones' staff, every crew member we passed on the way here as Bones wheeled me all the way, and Rand herself the rest of the morning. The one that makes me want to tear my hair out by the roots.
“It's okay. We all understand. I don't know how you could live through something so difficult, I mean, I heard that they were parading you around naked - ” She flusters and looks down at the tray, picking at a stray piece of potato. “I'm sorry, Captain. I'm being inappropriate again, aren't I?”
“No.” I've bitten her head off before about gossiping, needing to be sure she's discreet enough for the job. “It's nice that you're take an interest in how I'm doing, I'm just not ready to talk about it yet. And no, I wasn't naked, so do me a favor and stop that rumor in its tracks.”
A nod. “Yessir. Three hours. Eat your pudding.”
“'Sir'.”
“Sir. Don't forget to eat your pudding, sir.”
“Much better.” I take a small spoonful and manage to swallow it down. “There. See?”
“Good job, sir. Keep it up. Five seconds away, okay?”
“I'll be fine. Go.”
She almost crashes the tray into Spock's chest as the door slides open, Spock raising an eyebrow at her as she gasps, “Jeez Louise, you surprised the cra- uh, I mean, sorry, Commander, I didn't expect to see you there.”
“Do you require assistance with the tray, Yeoman?”
It's good to see that I'm not the only one that gets all awkward around Spock. “Uh, no. I gotta, uh . . . Commander Spock for you, Captain.”
“Send him in, thanks.”
My heartrate jumps up a notch as he walks across my quarters towards me, the door closing behind him so it's just the two of us here. Nobody watching us. Nobody listening in. He's been in here alone with me a hundred times before but not like this. I look at him and my body tightens with helpless love and lust, his face so pristine and handsome, not just beautiful but so masculine with that strong jaw and firm mouth. I feel like my longing must reach out to him across the space between us, too big to keep inside me. But his face is expressionless as he comes to stand a couple of meters away from my chair, his hands crossed behind his back in the way that displays the long, lean lines of his body to perfection. Thank God these sweats are baggy.
“Your physical appearance suggests that you are much recovered, Captain.”
“Hello to you, too. Sit?”
“Thank you.” He perches on the couchette opposite me, holding out a PADD. “I have prepared an initial report on the away mission to Ping.”
“You know Bones'll have your guts for garters if he knew you were involving me in ship's business.” I take it, not sure if I want to read it or not.
“I was in agreement with Doctor McCoy on the necessity of your medical leave, due to the unique combination of pressures that were placed solely on your person for the duration of our captivity and beyond.”
“You conspired with Bones to send me back to Earth? Thanks a bunch, Judas.”
“If I may be permitted to continue . . .”
His upper lip curls at one corner as he hikes his eyebrow all pissy at me, and I about swoon. Damn him. I'd hate him for making me feel all this if he wasn't so perfect. And adorable. Spock's adorable. I guess I've always known it but never once admitted it to myself. He's cute as shit and solid and hot, and I want to crawl all over him. I look at him almost smiling at me and everything aches. “Sure, fine, go ahead.”
“As I was preparing to qualify . . .I believe that I am familiar enough with your personality traits to understand you will have difficulty separating yourself from ship's business while you remain on-board the Enterprise, and may find the withholding of official information during that period emotionally distressing. I concluded that the sharing of the report would be less harmful to your recovery than if I were to keep it from you and submit it to Admiral Pike without your input.”
“So you risked Bones' ire to let me read your no-doubt excellent report, for the good of my health?”
An inclination of his head, that half-smile again. Now I'm sporting a semi. “Affirmative, Captain.”
“Spock, I'm on medical leave, wearing sweatpants, and my hair's halfway to my shoulders. Don't 'captain' me.”
His eyes look over my hair with scientific detachment and I watch him, lost in how his soft black eyelashes frame those liquid eyes perfectly. “You have shaved your beard. You do not plan an immediate return to a regulation-length cut?”
“I thought I'd try to grow it long enough to put in pigtails. Relax, I'm kidding,” I add as he blinks at me. “Rand's been threatening me with the chop all morning. Doubt I'll be able to hold her off much longer. Seriously, I'm kidding,” as he keeps looking at me with concern, like he's trying to imagine the pigtails in place. “Tomorrow. I've been busy.”
“Indeed.”
His eyes don't make a move towards the piles of clothes around the bed, the messed sheets, the books and PADDs strewn haphazardly across my desk. I haven't been able to settle to a damn thing all morning. Maybe his report will do the trick. I place the PADD on my coffee table next to the cup of pudding.
“I'll go over this later and return it to you with notations this afternoon. And, yes, you were right, it probably would've annoyed the piss out of me if I didn't know what was in it.”
“It is not an urgent matter. Admiral Pike -”
“Is being too easy on us if he doesn't want the initial report yesterday. I guess I'm good if you want to submit it immediately as I'm sure there's very little you'll have missed. It's not a big deal.”
“Your input may be valuable. There were occurrences during your prolonged imprisonment that I was not party to.”
“Ditto.”
A slight frown. “I am not familiar with that term.”
“It means that I know there was a hell of a lot of occurrences on Ping that you were aware of and that you kept from me. Oh yeah,” When his eyes shift to stare at his hands. “Don't think I'm not onto you.”
“'Onto' me?”
“You lied to me, Spock.”
He puffs up and looks down his nose at me. “Vulcans do not lie, Captain.”
“Sure you do. You knew what Sneck and Padnus were planning, the whole revolution thing. There's no way you didn't pick that up from their 'casual interpersonal touches'. I'm right, aren't I?”
“You are correct, but I did not lie to you.”
“You sure as shit didn't tell me.”
“I equivocated.”
“Ever heard of lying by omission? You lied, Spock. You should've told me.”
“It was apparent to me that your priorities at the time was the well-being of the away team and making plans to escape our captivity, and that any additional causes of stress on your person might adversely affect your capability to work towards those goals.”
“That's not up to you, mister. You didn't figure out that the news might've been welcome? That their revolution was something we could've helped with and used for our own purposes?”
“Which is precisely what occurred.”
“Without my input!” The bad mood that's been simmering all day is starting to lash out again. “Dammit, Spock, you know enough to sneak a report to me under Bones' nose, but you don't tell me that the psychopath holding me prisoner and trying to get friendly in the sack was about to be forcibly deposed? No, you'd rather keep me out of the picture then run in at the last second to act the hero and near get your damn head wrung off. It was rash and irresponsible.”
He's outwardly composed but the very tips of his ears are flushed. I notice these details about him all the time, always have. Emotionless, my ass. “Perhaps as 'rash and irresponsible' as a unilateral decision to forfeit one's own existence -”
“You'd have done the same in my position, don't bullshit me otherwise.”
I raise my voice over his to shout him down but he carries on in that same steady tone, raising his own to match mine. “To forfeit one's own existence to the benefit of others who might have wished for discussion regarding the matter before any conclusion was reached.”
“We were dying! There wasn't time for discussion!” I rake my hands through my hair, frustrated beyond reason that he's turning this back on me. “You wanted me to wait another half-week before one of our cozy bathtime chats? I couldn't be sure we had that long.”
“I am certain that Doctor McCoy would have been able to - ”
“Bones isn't Captain! Neither are you. It was my job to get you out of there. I managed it in the only way I was able to come up with, being as someone sitting not far from me now decided I was under too much pressure to deal with a very pertinent piece of information that might've changed everything.”
His eyes harden at that. “I am unaware of any Starfleet regulation that makes it the Captain's responsibility to sacrifice his own life to save others.”
“Don't smart-ass me. Your actions potentially put me at further risk. You know you should've told me and I want to make damn sure that doesn't happen again. Am I clear?”
Spock's staring at me intently, his lips slightly parted where his breathing's faster or heavier than usual, and his tone's clipped with icy precision as he stands up from the couchette and folds his hands behind his back again and stares at the wall behind me. “My apologies, Captain, but I do not intend to bear sole responsibility for a chain of command judgments that I deemed to be flawed both in logic and in application.”
It takes me a second to struggle up out of my chair but I manage it as he watches, then I step towards him on rubbery legs to stand almost nose to nose with him, close enough to swap breath. “You might want to rethink that last statement.”
He's still as a statue. “There is no need. My statement stands.”
Never enter a staring contest with a Vulcan. His eyes are bottomless, an unblinking, starless universe, the key to his soul and the auditor of mine. I glare furiously into those eyes, determined to stand up to him and to not give into the powerlessness I experienced on Ping, but second by second the fury leaches out of me, washed away on the tides of his dark eyes' endless sea.
“Aww, dammit. I shouldn't be shouting at you.”
“A sentiment I find myself in agreement with.”
I flop back down into my chair, physically exhausted with such a brief spat and needing to get away from him before I make a fool of myself by falling on him lips-first, the need to do so pulling me towards him every second that we stood so close. “You're right, I know you're right, I made mistakes and I've got a lot of apologies to make. But I don't want you keeping vital information from me like that. Even if I've got a Bat'leth sticking out of my chest and I'm five seconds from bleeding out, you tell me anything I might need to know. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Spock carefully perches once more across from me, his fingers steepled in front of him. “I have meditated on my own motivations for keeping news of the oncoming revolution from you. At the time, as I have described, I believed that there was no logical progression that indicated a beneficial outcome from the revolution for the away team, as I was unaware we had been invited to the planet to facilitate the revolution itself.”
He looks away from me and down at his fingertips, that worried crease appearing between his eyebrows. “But you are correct and it was my duty as your first officer to have informed you of all potentially salient information. It has become apparent to me that I did not inform you of Sneck and Padnus' plans because I believed you were struggling with the emotional stresses of the situation, and I did not wish to add to that burden. I maintain that I did not lie to you but I was in error and, for that, I apologize. It will not happen again.”
He was trying to protect me. It makes me want to weep.
“You saved my life, Spock. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“As you have formerly saved mine, and I do not believe I am able to extend the same reassurance to you.”
Sassy Vulcan bastard. Fuck, I'm so stupidly in love with him. “Thank you for getting me out of there, Spock.”
A nod, the corner of his lip curling upwards a millimeter and I want to trace it with the tip of my tongue. “You are welcome, Jim.”
“Even if it was rash and irresponsible. I've got so much to thank you for, I don't know where to begin.”
“Our conversation has tired you.” Spock stands abruptly, tugging his Science blues down as I stare up at him, wondering what I did to make him jump up like a scalded cat. “Perhaps we will have the opportunity to speak further once you have rested and read the report.”
“Absolutely. Chess later?”
His pause is barely noticeable. “I am otherwise engaged.”
“Huh. Really. Bones has warned everyone off keeping me up all evening?”
“Doctor McCoy has expressed his concern that you currently require a surfeit of physical and mental relaxation.”
“I'll just bet he has. Tomorrow night?” Say yes before this gets too pathetic and I have to start pleading. I've only got four days with him and intend to soak up every second I can before I'm stuck back home getting the contents of my mind reorganized.
“That would be acceptable.” His expression warms, a hint of humor playing around his mouth. He's so beautiful it hurts to look at him and I want to say more, to tell him to stay, but this has taken too much out of me already. “I will leave you to rest. Good afternoon, Jim.”
“Yeah. Bye, Spock.”
I stare at his butt the whole way across my quarters, admiring the way the modest handful of flesh on each cheek tautens then relaxes with each step, the door opening for him automatically. “Captain?”
“You forget something?”
“A reminder to finish your dessert composite.”
I laugh, a deep belly chuckle that feels incredible, the first time I've felt truly alive in weeks. “I'd throw it in your face for that if my arms were strong enough.”
A definite smile, his mouth compressing and his eyes lengthening to black slits as the door closes and blocks his face from view. My body's humming all over from his visit but I don't think I've got the energy to do anything about it, tiredness hitting me in a wall of gray exhaustion. I push myself up from the chair again, my arms feeling like noodles now, my legs barely co-operating as I force myself over to the bed where I gratefully strip down to my shorts.
It's why my clothes are heaped everywhere. I tried everything this morning, from my uniform blacks to a sweater and my favorite old jeans, but I'm so accustomed now to being mostly bare than everything feels itchy and too heavy. The sweatpants and a worn-thin academy t-shirt were the only things I could handle having next to my skin, and even they felt unnaturally constricting and it's a huge relief to strip out of them, feeling the warm, dry air of my quarters wrapping itself around me.
My bed, oh yeah. I groan with relief as I get into it and pull the covers up. I never thought I'd miss this bed so much, lying on my side now and pressing my face into the over-hard pillow, taking a deep sniff of the clean pillowcase, the lingering laundry fumes something I think it'll take some time for me to take for granted and quit noticing again. My mind's drifting away from my body, that point where they separate and go their own ways for a few hours, and I finally allow myself to imagine that I'd closed the gap between us and kissed him, leaned in and pressed my mouth to Spock's. A thrill of heat shoots through me, my dick slowly filling to full hardness, my legs falling apart as I brush my hand over my chest and think more about kissing Spock. That's all it takes. But nothing's going to stop this nap overtaking me and the last thing I remember is the first stroke of his tongue in my mouth.
Pairings: Kirk/Spock (with some background Sulu/Chekov UST)
Rating: NC-17
Length: Too long, so splitting this into 2 parts then continuing. This part: 4.5k
For: awarrington ♥ and all my other awesome feedbackers
Warnings: None
Summary: The Enterprise crew makes contact with a planet where an all-male society thinks they're sexual catnip, and decides to keep and marry them all against their will
A/N: Sorry, I'm working from the briefest notes here and it's expanding like a black hole as I go. 2 more till we're done? Chapter 9 is about 1k from done, hopefully posting later tonight.
“I know you're in there, Jimbo. Open up those baby blues for me.”
“You're only calling me that because you know I'll wake up to tell you to cut it out.” I open my eyes to squint up at Bones, who's leaning over me on the biobed. “So I'm not dead?”
“Not yet, but give me time to come up with something . . .” He hands me a cup and helps me into a sitting position before parting his hair and pointing at a miniscule speck of gray. “You see this? White hairs. I'm a man in my prime and you're actively contributing to the onset of achromotrichia.”
“Baby, you'll always be pretty to me.” I scratch into the beard that's living on borrowed time now I'm not dead and back on-board. “What happened back there?”
“'Back there' was two days ago.” He starts scanning me as I begin to notice stuff, primarily the lack of agonizing pain.“I'd hoped that the steroid shot would buffer the transition into a new atmosphere but your lungs were already half-full of fluid and couldn't take the sudden change in environment.”
“Ew. Hey, nothing hurts. You're a little miracle, you know that?”
“You have no idea.” He tosses a PADD into my lap. “Want to read up on the godwaful mess you were in once we got you here?”
“No. Gimme a run down, I've got cotton mouth.”
I sip from my cup as he perches on the side of my bed, and the water's untainted, plain and tasteless and it hits me for the first time that I'm not there anymore. I'm not on Ping. I'm free. I don't know where to start taking that on.
“Precancerous tumors in three of your four cerebral lobes, your lymph glands, your kidneys and liver, upper colon and testes.”
I near spit out my water and he glances at me.
“Yeah. Noncardiogenic pulmonary edema. Septis presenting with tachycardia, fever and abnormal white blood cell count. Muscle wastage, dehydration and severe malnutrition, high nanogrammatic count of androgen and luteinizing hormone. All major organs enlarged, soft tissues inflamed and ulcerated. Gastrointestinal distress, including,” He takes a deep breath here. “Duodenal peptic ulcers, multiple counts. Colonic distension and ulcerative colitis, pancreatic atrophy. Your gut was several shades of fucked up. I fixed up your shoulder, too. Consider that your complimentary gift as our most frequent customer.”
“I'm not sure that's fair.” He sighs and scrubs over his face with his hands. When he takes them away I notice he looks exhausted, lines digging deep each side of his mouth. “Okay, Doctor, spill - When was the last time you slept?”
“You were this close, Jim. Nearly lost you several times.”
“But I'm all better now, right?” I stretch out my arms, the shaking gone. “Feel like a new man.”
“You're weak and underweight, and I don't want you loading your shiny new gut with all kinds of greasy, spicy crap. I've programmed you a new diet. No spices, nothing too acidic or fibrous, but bland, high energy stodge. And no alcohol, either. You can stick to synthehol for a month.”
“A month?”
“Gentle exercise only. No coffee.”
“Now you're just being mean.”
“Maybe the hobgoblin'll share some of his tea with you.” He reaches out to pat my shoulder, his fingers stroking over my surgical tunic. “I can't advise you on that, but you've got to realize you've been through significant trauma. This is going to hit you hard.”
“Yeah.” I pat his hand and stare at my toes. “I know. So. You know that I . . . Spock . . .”
“I've got eyes in my head, don't I?”
“What the fuck am I going to do.”
It's not a question. His hand stills and there's a long pause, his words gruff when they come. “What you're going to do is focus on getting well. We're on route to Earth, almost four days out. There's this guy at Starfleet Medical I knew in the academy who's the only person I'd trust to poke around that intricate psyche of yours.”
“No.”
“Starfleet's authorized a month's medical leave. You're on vacation, kiddo.”
“No! Jesus, I can't - ”
“You can and you will.”
How can I make him understand? “I just got back here. There's this whole mess to sort out - ”
“Which someone else is responsible for.” The stroking starts again for a moment before his hand falls away. “We're all trying to deal with it. The whole away team's on partial duties only for four weeks, myself included when I'm not trying to glue you back together at the seams. I swear, I've seen decomposing bodies in a better state than yours was. But I know you, and know what you've been putting yourself through. You volunteered to die. That's huge, considering your personal history.”
“Don't send me away.” It feels panicky and desperate, my eyes prickling. “Keep me off duty onboard. Please, Bones. Don't make me beg.”
“You'd last less than forty eight hours before you started poking your nose into ship's business.” He gets up off the biobed, lifting the PADD and making notes, probably that I've been officially informed of medical leave and am reacting unfavorably as expected. “I know you need the familiar around you now, I get that, but you're no good to us here till you've processed your trauma and are fit for duty. Do I make myself clear?”
So he does understand. “Crystal. Four days?”
“Give or take a few hours.”
“Then get me back to my quarters.”
Four days. It's not nearly enough.
-
“Dammit, Yeoman, I'm not an invalid! I can do it myself.”
So much for being nicer to Rand. Her eyes go big and worried, the spoon in her hand quivering before she grips it harder and thrusts it at my mouth once more with renewed determination. “Doctor McCoy was adamant that I got you to eat, and you keep pushing the plate away.”
“I'm full.”
“Eat it.”
“'Sir'.”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. Looks like discipline's gotten a little lax while I've been away. “Eat the mashed potato, sir. Three more spoons and I'll let you stop.”
“'Let' me? Give that here.” I grab the spoon from her and stuff three spoonfuls in at once, spraying reconstituted potato over my knees when I try to speak. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Sir.” Her hand moves towards my lap with a napkin.
“I'll take care of that.”
I take the napkin from her to clean up the mess, throwing it into the lunch tray and covering up the cup of pudding. She gives me a 'nice try' smile and pulls it off, taking the cup of pudding and placing it on the table in front of me. “I'll be back in three hours with some hearty soup and crackers. I want to see this empty when I do. Understood, Captain?”
Oh, dear God, Rand's turned into my mom. “You going to put me in my jammies and bunny slippers, too? How about a night-night story when you tuck me into bed?”
She mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like In your dreams, buddy as she crosses to the cycler to dispose of the rest of the potato, crashing plates as she does so. Then she tidies the rest of the tray and turns to me again with a bright smile that's almost managing to hide her irritation, the tray gripped firmly between both hands.
“Anything else? I'm only five seconds away if you need help with anything.”
“I'm fine, thank you.” I rub a hand over my head, feeling like an asshole, which is fair considering that's how I've been acting over the last few hours. “Sorry I'm so . . . y'know.”
There it is. That sympathetic smile that everyone's been shooting in my direction, Bones' staff, every crew member we passed on the way here as Bones wheeled me all the way, and Rand herself the rest of the morning. The one that makes me want to tear my hair out by the roots.
“It's okay. We all understand. I don't know how you could live through something so difficult, I mean, I heard that they were parading you around naked - ” She flusters and looks down at the tray, picking at a stray piece of potato. “I'm sorry, Captain. I'm being inappropriate again, aren't I?”
“No.” I've bitten her head off before about gossiping, needing to be sure she's discreet enough for the job. “It's nice that you're take an interest in how I'm doing, I'm just not ready to talk about it yet. And no, I wasn't naked, so do me a favor and stop that rumor in its tracks.”
A nod. “Yessir. Three hours. Eat your pudding.”
“'Sir'.”
“Sir. Don't forget to eat your pudding, sir.”
“Much better.” I take a small spoonful and manage to swallow it down. “There. See?”
“Good job, sir. Keep it up. Five seconds away, okay?”
“I'll be fine. Go.”
She almost crashes the tray into Spock's chest as the door slides open, Spock raising an eyebrow at her as she gasps, “Jeez Louise, you surprised the cra- uh, I mean, sorry, Commander, I didn't expect to see you there.”
“Do you require assistance with the tray, Yeoman?”
It's good to see that I'm not the only one that gets all awkward around Spock. “Uh, no. I gotta, uh . . . Commander Spock for you, Captain.”
“Send him in, thanks.”
My heartrate jumps up a notch as he walks across my quarters towards me, the door closing behind him so it's just the two of us here. Nobody watching us. Nobody listening in. He's been in here alone with me a hundred times before but not like this. I look at him and my body tightens with helpless love and lust, his face so pristine and handsome, not just beautiful but so masculine with that strong jaw and firm mouth. I feel like my longing must reach out to him across the space between us, too big to keep inside me. But his face is expressionless as he comes to stand a couple of meters away from my chair, his hands crossed behind his back in the way that displays the long, lean lines of his body to perfection. Thank God these sweats are baggy.
“Your physical appearance suggests that you are much recovered, Captain.”
“Hello to you, too. Sit?”
“Thank you.” He perches on the couchette opposite me, holding out a PADD. “I have prepared an initial report on the away mission to Ping.”
“You know Bones'll have your guts for garters if he knew you were involving me in ship's business.” I take it, not sure if I want to read it or not.
“I was in agreement with Doctor McCoy on the necessity of your medical leave, due to the unique combination of pressures that were placed solely on your person for the duration of our captivity and beyond.”
“You conspired with Bones to send me back to Earth? Thanks a bunch, Judas.”
“If I may be permitted to continue . . .”
His upper lip curls at one corner as he hikes his eyebrow all pissy at me, and I about swoon. Damn him. I'd hate him for making me feel all this if he wasn't so perfect. And adorable. Spock's adorable. I guess I've always known it but never once admitted it to myself. He's cute as shit and solid and hot, and I want to crawl all over him. I look at him almost smiling at me and everything aches. “Sure, fine, go ahead.”
“As I was preparing to qualify . . .I believe that I am familiar enough with your personality traits to understand you will have difficulty separating yourself from ship's business while you remain on-board the Enterprise, and may find the withholding of official information during that period emotionally distressing. I concluded that the sharing of the report would be less harmful to your recovery than if I were to keep it from you and submit it to Admiral Pike without your input.”
“So you risked Bones' ire to let me read your no-doubt excellent report, for the good of my health?”
An inclination of his head, that half-smile again. Now I'm sporting a semi. “Affirmative, Captain.”
“Spock, I'm on medical leave, wearing sweatpants, and my hair's halfway to my shoulders. Don't 'captain' me.”
His eyes look over my hair with scientific detachment and I watch him, lost in how his soft black eyelashes frame those liquid eyes perfectly. “You have shaved your beard. You do not plan an immediate return to a regulation-length cut?”
“I thought I'd try to grow it long enough to put in pigtails. Relax, I'm kidding,” I add as he blinks at me. “Rand's been threatening me with the chop all morning. Doubt I'll be able to hold her off much longer. Seriously, I'm kidding,” as he keeps looking at me with concern, like he's trying to imagine the pigtails in place. “Tomorrow. I've been busy.”
“Indeed.”
His eyes don't make a move towards the piles of clothes around the bed, the messed sheets, the books and PADDs strewn haphazardly across my desk. I haven't been able to settle to a damn thing all morning. Maybe his report will do the trick. I place the PADD on my coffee table next to the cup of pudding.
“I'll go over this later and return it to you with notations this afternoon. And, yes, you were right, it probably would've annoyed the piss out of me if I didn't know what was in it.”
“It is not an urgent matter. Admiral Pike -”
“Is being too easy on us if he doesn't want the initial report yesterday. I guess I'm good if you want to submit it immediately as I'm sure there's very little you'll have missed. It's not a big deal.”
“Your input may be valuable. There were occurrences during your prolonged imprisonment that I was not party to.”
“Ditto.”
A slight frown. “I am not familiar with that term.”
“It means that I know there was a hell of a lot of occurrences on Ping that you were aware of and that you kept from me. Oh yeah,” When his eyes shift to stare at his hands. “Don't think I'm not onto you.”
“'Onto' me?”
“You lied to me, Spock.”
He puffs up and looks down his nose at me. “Vulcans do not lie, Captain.”
“Sure you do. You knew what Sneck and Padnus were planning, the whole revolution thing. There's no way you didn't pick that up from their 'casual interpersonal touches'. I'm right, aren't I?”
“You are correct, but I did not lie to you.”
“You sure as shit didn't tell me.”
“I equivocated.”
“Ever heard of lying by omission? You lied, Spock. You should've told me.”
“It was apparent to me that your priorities at the time was the well-being of the away team and making plans to escape our captivity, and that any additional causes of stress on your person might adversely affect your capability to work towards those goals.”
“That's not up to you, mister. You didn't figure out that the news might've been welcome? That their revolution was something we could've helped with and used for our own purposes?”
“Which is precisely what occurred.”
“Without my input!” The bad mood that's been simmering all day is starting to lash out again. “Dammit, Spock, you know enough to sneak a report to me under Bones' nose, but you don't tell me that the psychopath holding me prisoner and trying to get friendly in the sack was about to be forcibly deposed? No, you'd rather keep me out of the picture then run in at the last second to act the hero and near get your damn head wrung off. It was rash and irresponsible.”
He's outwardly composed but the very tips of his ears are flushed. I notice these details about him all the time, always have. Emotionless, my ass. “Perhaps as 'rash and irresponsible' as a unilateral decision to forfeit one's own existence -”
“You'd have done the same in my position, don't bullshit me otherwise.”
I raise my voice over his to shout him down but he carries on in that same steady tone, raising his own to match mine. “To forfeit one's own existence to the benefit of others who might have wished for discussion regarding the matter before any conclusion was reached.”
“We were dying! There wasn't time for discussion!” I rake my hands through my hair, frustrated beyond reason that he's turning this back on me. “You wanted me to wait another half-week before one of our cozy bathtime chats? I couldn't be sure we had that long.”
“I am certain that Doctor McCoy would have been able to - ”
“Bones isn't Captain! Neither are you. It was my job to get you out of there. I managed it in the only way I was able to come up with, being as someone sitting not far from me now decided I was under too much pressure to deal with a very pertinent piece of information that might've changed everything.”
His eyes harden at that. “I am unaware of any Starfleet regulation that makes it the Captain's responsibility to sacrifice his own life to save others.”
“Don't smart-ass me. Your actions potentially put me at further risk. You know you should've told me and I want to make damn sure that doesn't happen again. Am I clear?”
Spock's staring at me intently, his lips slightly parted where his breathing's faster or heavier than usual, and his tone's clipped with icy precision as he stands up from the couchette and folds his hands behind his back again and stares at the wall behind me. “My apologies, Captain, but I do not intend to bear sole responsibility for a chain of command judgments that I deemed to be flawed both in logic and in application.”
It takes me a second to struggle up out of my chair but I manage it as he watches, then I step towards him on rubbery legs to stand almost nose to nose with him, close enough to swap breath. “You might want to rethink that last statement.”
He's still as a statue. “There is no need. My statement stands.”
Never enter a staring contest with a Vulcan. His eyes are bottomless, an unblinking, starless universe, the key to his soul and the auditor of mine. I glare furiously into those eyes, determined to stand up to him and to not give into the powerlessness I experienced on Ping, but second by second the fury leaches out of me, washed away on the tides of his dark eyes' endless sea.
“Aww, dammit. I shouldn't be shouting at you.”
“A sentiment I find myself in agreement with.”
I flop back down into my chair, physically exhausted with such a brief spat and needing to get away from him before I make a fool of myself by falling on him lips-first, the need to do so pulling me towards him every second that we stood so close. “You're right, I know you're right, I made mistakes and I've got a lot of apologies to make. But I don't want you keeping vital information from me like that. Even if I've got a Bat'leth sticking out of my chest and I'm five seconds from bleeding out, you tell me anything I might need to know. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Spock carefully perches once more across from me, his fingers steepled in front of him. “I have meditated on my own motivations for keeping news of the oncoming revolution from you. At the time, as I have described, I believed that there was no logical progression that indicated a beneficial outcome from the revolution for the away team, as I was unaware we had been invited to the planet to facilitate the revolution itself.”
He looks away from me and down at his fingertips, that worried crease appearing between his eyebrows. “But you are correct and it was my duty as your first officer to have informed you of all potentially salient information. It has become apparent to me that I did not inform you of Sneck and Padnus' plans because I believed you were struggling with the emotional stresses of the situation, and I did not wish to add to that burden. I maintain that I did not lie to you but I was in error and, for that, I apologize. It will not happen again.”
He was trying to protect me. It makes me want to weep.
“You saved my life, Spock. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“As you have formerly saved mine, and I do not believe I am able to extend the same reassurance to you.”
Sassy Vulcan bastard. Fuck, I'm so stupidly in love with him. “Thank you for getting me out of there, Spock.”
A nod, the corner of his lip curling upwards a millimeter and I want to trace it with the tip of my tongue. “You are welcome, Jim.”
“Even if it was rash and irresponsible. I've got so much to thank you for, I don't know where to begin.”
“Our conversation has tired you.” Spock stands abruptly, tugging his Science blues down as I stare up at him, wondering what I did to make him jump up like a scalded cat. “Perhaps we will have the opportunity to speak further once you have rested and read the report.”
“Absolutely. Chess later?”
His pause is barely noticeable. “I am otherwise engaged.”
“Huh. Really. Bones has warned everyone off keeping me up all evening?”
“Doctor McCoy has expressed his concern that you currently require a surfeit of physical and mental relaxation.”
“I'll just bet he has. Tomorrow night?” Say yes before this gets too pathetic and I have to start pleading. I've only got four days with him and intend to soak up every second I can before I'm stuck back home getting the contents of my mind reorganized.
“That would be acceptable.” His expression warms, a hint of humor playing around his mouth. He's so beautiful it hurts to look at him and I want to say more, to tell him to stay, but this has taken too much out of me already. “I will leave you to rest. Good afternoon, Jim.”
“Yeah. Bye, Spock.”
I stare at his butt the whole way across my quarters, admiring the way the modest handful of flesh on each cheek tautens then relaxes with each step, the door opening for him automatically. “Captain?”
“You forget something?”
“A reminder to finish your dessert composite.”
I laugh, a deep belly chuckle that feels incredible, the first time I've felt truly alive in weeks. “I'd throw it in your face for that if my arms were strong enough.”
A definite smile, his mouth compressing and his eyes lengthening to black slits as the door closes and blocks his face from view. My body's humming all over from his visit but I don't think I've got the energy to do anything about it, tiredness hitting me in a wall of gray exhaustion. I push myself up from the chair again, my arms feeling like noodles now, my legs barely co-operating as I force myself over to the bed where I gratefully strip down to my shorts.
It's why my clothes are heaped everywhere. I tried everything this morning, from my uniform blacks to a sweater and my favorite old jeans, but I'm so accustomed now to being mostly bare than everything feels itchy and too heavy. The sweatpants and a worn-thin academy t-shirt were the only things I could handle having next to my skin, and even they felt unnaturally constricting and it's a huge relief to strip out of them, feeling the warm, dry air of my quarters wrapping itself around me.
My bed, oh yeah. I groan with relief as I get into it and pull the covers up. I never thought I'd miss this bed so much, lying on my side now and pressing my face into the over-hard pillow, taking a deep sniff of the clean pillowcase, the lingering laundry fumes something I think it'll take some time for me to take for granted and quit noticing again. My mind's drifting away from my body, that point where they separate and go their own ways for a few hours, and I finally allow myself to imagine that I'd closed the gap between us and kissed him, leaned in and pressed my mouth to Spock's. A thrill of heat shoots through me, my dick slowly filling to full hardness, my legs falling apart as I brush my hand over my chest and think more about kissing Spock. That's all it takes. But nothing's going to stop this nap overtaking me and the last thing I remember is the first stroke of his tongue in my mouth.