the ridiculous Kirk fic (which is also a sincere Kirk/Spock fic ;___; )
Every time I write a crack fic I can't really categorize it as such . . . this is crack/humor but I got really into the Kirk/Spock at the end so . . .? Oh, and apparently I have a bird watching fetish but that's not really surprising.
Title: Best Birthday Ever
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Sulu/Chekov in the background)
Rating: R
Summary: It's shore leave time for the crew of the Enterprise, BUT IT IS ALSO KIRK'S BIRTHDAY, and he stalks his crew when nobody throws him a party.
Notes: Thanks so much to chlorate for beta reading!
First of all, it's raining. Which is not ideal. Kirk scowls at the weather monitor in his stateroom as he reads the news about the planet below. The shore leave shuttle is leaving in an hour, and maybe by the time it lands the weather in the resort town he's disembarking to for a week will have changed. In the meantime, he'll have to listen to Bones griping about the danger of bringing a shuttle through a thunderstorm.
Thinking of Bones, Jim grins and pulls his "first day of shore leave" shirt over his head, unbuttoning it down to his chest. He combs his fingers through his hair, grabs the bag he's packed for his time away from the ship and winks at himself in the mirror. Twenty-seven years of James Tiberius Kirk wrecking havoc across the universe. Well, twenty-five of wreaking havoc on earth and one year and two hours of wrecking havoc across the universe. Youngest captain of a Federation vessel in history. First person to have sex on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise. As far as he knows, anyway. But it's a pretty safe bet.
Feeling a little more impressed with himself than usual, which is his due, he figures, since it's his birthday, he marches down the hall to the sick bay, ready to receive his birthday gift from his best friend, and to begin making plans for the raucous weekend they'll have down on Zugar, the wildest vacation planet in the galaxy. It's no coincidence that Jim set a course for Zugar to coincide with his birthday. He gives Bones a wicked grin as he makes his way into the sick bay, and Bones scowls.
"What do you want?" Bones asks. His sleeves are rolled up and his hair is a mess. "And don't say condoms, Jim, I swear to God. I've been up for forty-two hours with this Potts kid and the good news is that his boils have started to burst." Bones is glaring at Jim as if he dares him to do anything but offer him a back rub. Jim scoffs and throws his hands out.
"Bones, hello?" he says. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh, yeah," Bones says, his jaw tightening. "The engineer who's about to deliver twins." He nods to a sick bed that is surrounded by curtains. "That should be a fun break between bouts of mopping up boil juice."
"That's not what I meant," Jim says, following Bones across the room as he carries a pan of something that Jim doesn't want to know anything about to the sink to wash it out. "It's my birthday!" Jim announces, forgiving his friend for forgetting in the midst of all this work. "And I don't know if you've had time to notice, but we are docked over Zugar, Bones. Zugar, birthplace of virtual sex entertainment? And like, plenty of regular sex, too? So stick someone else on your shift and let's go tear this fucker up!"
"Yeah, that's great, Jim," Bones says, letting the pan clatter loudly into the sink. "You go, have a fantastic time. I'll just be here busting my ass because my entire staff has signed up for shore leave this weekend."
"What? How could that have happened?"
"I don't know, Captain," Bones says. He narrows his eyes, and for a minute Jim is actually kind of afraid of him. "You're the one whose name was signed to the bottom of their leave forms."
"I don't remember doing that!"
"There's the surprise of the decade!" Bones bellows, bending backward to roll his eyes at the ceiling. He groans and pushes Jim aside to rummage in his cabinets.
"Bones," Jim says, waiting for the punch line. Maybe this is all part of the big surprise, maybe the whole crew is going to jump out from behind those curtains where the pregnant engineer is allegedly resting and throw confetti all over him, proclaiming him gullible and giving him noogies. He waits. Bones continues grumbling and begins unwinding gauze from a large wheel.
"You'd better go or you'll miss your shuttle," Bones says bitterly, keeping his eyes on his work. "Happy birthday," he adds, scoffing as he heads back to the guy with the boils.
*
Jim tries not to let Bones' predicament spoil his mood or make him feel guilty, though maybe he should have looked at those leave applications more closely. It's pretty much a travesty that he's expected to do any paperwork at all, and he usually just tries to get it over with as quickly as possible. If a bunch of forms require his signature he tends to pretend he's signing copies of his autobiography for his fans. Makes the work go faster.
He heads for the shuttle, slapping crew members on the shoulders as he makes his way through the halls, pretending to remember all their names. Since he actually doesn't, he supposes he can't feel too miffed when nobody mentions his birthday. Maybe they're too intimidated to bring it up. Maybe he should have discreetly asked Chekov to announce the occasion over the intercom this morning. It totally would have seemed like it was all Chekov's idea. Because Chekov, like, worships him, of course. Now it's probably too late, with everyone piling onto the shuttle. Damn.
"Uhura!" he calls when he sees her buckling into a seat near the back of the shuttle. Jim weaves through the crowd and takes the seat beside her, grinning when he imagines that he's beat Spock to it. "Where's Spock?" he asks, looking around the shuttle, ready to rub it in.
"I wouldn't know," Uhura says, raising her eyebrows in that way that always makes Jim nervous. She slapped him, once.
"What, he's not coming?" Jim asks. Uhura shuts her eyes for a moment, then opens them, taking a deep breath.
"Apparently, he has work to do," she says, very tightly. "Which I completely understand. And which I understood the last time he skipped the shore leave. And the time before that. And the time before that."
"I can't imagine Spock on Zugar, anyway," Kirk says, though actually he'd like to see that. Hilarity would almost definitely ensue. "So hang with me! We'll go to that club, what's the one, the one with the margarita water slide?"
"I'm pretty sure they call them qeyetas on Zugar, Captain, not margaritas," Uhura says. So she's in one of these moods, ready to correct Jim when he refers to important cultural whatevers as 'that toilet-seat looking thing' or 'those crackers that taste like dog hair.' Fine, okay -- after a few drinks she'll still be a valuable member of his birthday celebration.
"Okay, kwee-et-tas, fine, but listen --"
"It's actually pronounced key--"
"Hey!" Jim says, throwing up his hands. "Did I mention it's my birthday?"
Uhura stares at him for a moment, then looks sad. Jim wilts, letting his arms fall back to his knees.
"Oh, Jim," she says, touching his arm. "Happy birthday. What are you going to do to celebrate?"
"Um, hang out with my friends! Right? Right?" He punches her shoulder lightly, and the sad look on her face shifts back to one of annoyance.
"I'm actually planning on going for drinks with Ryta and Penny and venting about some things," she says. "Personal things."
"Well, great! I love Ryta, she's got those boots! Don't know Penny but I'm sure --"
"Actually, you do know her, you slept with her a month ago and then introduced yourself as if you'd never met two weeks later," Uhura says. Jim definitely recognizes this look on Uhura's face, and it's never meant anything good. "And you threw up on Ryta's boots at that bar on the Enzine space station, so she's not exactly your biggest fan, either."
"That's all water under the bridge," Jim says, slashing his hand through the air. The shuttle's engines begin firing for takeoff, and a supervisor shyly asks the Captain if he'll please buckle his safety belt.
"Of course!" Jim says, making a big show of doing so, everyone turning to stare. "Safety first!"
"Listen, Jim," Uhura says when he turns back to her. The shuttle pulls away from the Enterprise, drifting out into space, Zugar glowing blue and green below. "I really and sincerely wish you a happy birthday, that's -- that's great. But I just, I need this weekend for me. I hope you'll understand that I can't make it to your party."
"Fine, whatever," Jim says, turning from her and shrugging his shoulders all the way up to his ears. "I mean you're gonna be missing like a once in a lifetime blowout but I guess that's not really your thing, anyway."
When he looks back to Uhura she has her pretend-shocked face on, eyebrows raised.
"Don't tell me what my thing is," she says, and Jim is starting to feel kind of glad that she won't be hanging around to spoil the festivities if she's going to be this testy all weekend. He wonders what the hell Spock did. It's got to be something more than just being addicted to work, because that's what Uhura loves about him, his dedication and his ability to happily abstain from all frivolous things. Or anyway that's what Jim has always figured she loves about him. Anyone who loves Spock would have to love him mostly for that.
*
The shuttle arrives at one of Zugar's flashy tourist portals, everything neon, hundreds of vendors already screaming advertisements for their wares as the crew of the Enterprise staggers toward the planet that is known as this quadrant of space's resident "pleasure paradise." It's actually a little shabbier than Jim expected, but whatever. He heads toward his hotel, searching the crowd for his friends from the bridge. Some of the female crew members eye him with interest, as they always do as soon as shore leave begins, and Jim shoots them filthy smiles. He'll have plenty of time for that sort of recreation tomorrow and Sunday; tonight he wants to spend his birthday with people who admire him for more than his ass.
The hotel is not exactly what he imagined. It's a little humid. Maybe even damp. And the room is way too quiet. Jim puts on the television set -- Uhura would have some fancy foreign word for it but to Jim it's just a damn TV -- and flips around until he finds a soccer game that is taking place on Earth, Argentina versus China. For the first time, like, ever, he feels kind of homesick, and he turns it off.
He goes downstairs, wondering when his friends are going to surprise him with their plans for the evening, since the cocktail hour is already approaching. Then he starts to wonder which friends he's even thinking of, if Bones and Spock aren't on planet and Uhura is too occupied with womanly troubles to show up. He looks at his reflection in the mirrored elevator and tries winking at himself but isn't really feeling it. The elevator smells like smoke. The whole hotel sorta does.
Down at the bar, he's filled with relief when he sees Chekov and Sulu sitting together, grinning at each other as if they think they're getting away with something. Jim bites down on his smile, sneaking toward them. He doesn't really recognize a lot of the other people hanging around, but that doesn't mean they're not part of the bash that Sulu and Chekov have obviously organized for him. He should have known at least Chekov would do something; he practically humps Jim's leg with joy whenever Jim runs across him while they're off duty.
"Heyy!" Jim cries, walking over to them with his arms thrown out. "I'm here!"
They turn to stare at him, Chekov's eyes wide with surprise and Sulu actually frowning a little. Nobody dives in from the periphery to yell Happy birthday! Jim lets his arms drop.
"Keptin!" Chekov says, grinning. "Are you staying at this hotel as well?" Chekov gives Sulu a furtive glance that makes Jim suspect that the plans for his party just aren't quite ready yet, and now of course Chekov is panicking.
"You bet," Jim says, leaning between them to grab at Chekov's drink. "What are you having? Vodka, straight? Checkers, dude, don't be such a cliché! We need to get you one of those Zugar margaritas --"
"Actually, he's drinking sake," Sulu says, sounding a little pissy, which Jim doesn't get, because hello, this is Zugar, lighten up, and has Chekov not told Sulu that it's Jim's birthday? Maybe not; maybe Sulu would be jealous to know that Chekov cares. Sulu is always hovering around Chekov like a maiden aunt, giving people dirty looks when they pinch Chekov's cheeks, which Jim has also asked the crew to stop doing, but only because Chekov doesn't seem to enjoy it very much.
"So, I'm sorry I ruined the surprise," Jim says, clamping his hand onto Chekov's shoulder. "But now that I'm here -- where is everybody hiding? Behind the bar?"
"Where is who hiding, sir?" Chekov asks, starting to look nervous. Sulu is still frowning and it's really beginning to annoy Jim a lot.
"The rest of the -- people." Jim looks around, but the others in the bar are oblivious to him, except for a few random chicks and one dude who look like they might want to tap that. Which he will totally take them up on. Just as soon as he works out what the hell's going on here.
"Well, it's my birthday," Jim says to Chekov, beginning to feel a little pathetic. Because what the fuck? "So. I mean that's why you guys are here, right? Like, 'cause you're off duty. And you're together. So I thought."
He just stands there feeling like an ass, Chekov with his mouth open, his bottom lip working as if he's searching for a response and having a lot of trouble coming up with one. Sulu drains his glass and Jim will be goddamned if he doesn't look a little bit triumphant.
"Happy birthday, Captain," Sulu says, raising his empty glass at Jim. In a totally assholish way.
"Yes, Happy birthday, very much!" Chekov says, his face turning red. "Please, have a drink with us Keptin, I am sure you are busy but you must, we insist!"
"Well, I do have this - thing to go to, but, whatever, I mean, if you want me to -" Jim feels like biting his tongue, because he could totally be banging twins after smoking Zugarian urupa leaves inside a virtual orgy chamber, and hey, that would be a great birthday, the best, but for some reason he just sits down between Chekov and Sulu and orders a shot of whiskey and a Budweiser Classic.
"So, twenty-seven years old," Sulu says when the conversation lags, three Classics and five shots later. "Uh. How does it feel?"
"Um, awesome, obviously," Jim says with a scoff. "I feel like I've accomplished, I mean, kind of a lot. Like that time I saved your life," he says, shoving Sulu's shoulder. In a friendly-like way.
"Oh, yeah, and hey, remember that time I saved yours? Good times."
"Yeah," Jim mutters, turning his beer bottle in his hands. It's not like Sulu can even remotely compete with Jim and everything he's done. Career achievements regardless, Sulu doesn't get caught with his pants down in the company of an attractive female crew member on a regular basis, and Jim totally does. And everyone think it's hilarious. No, not hilarious - admirable. Yeah. The closest thing Sulu has to a girlfriend is Chekov. Not that Jim has a girlfriend. Not that he wants one, just so she can get pissed at him for whatever and go trash talk him at some girlie bar with so-and-so and the girl with the boots.
He's getting pretty drunk, and when he sees Chekov looking at him warily and Sulu with barely contained laughter he realizes he's been saying all of this out loud. Or at least some of it. He's not sure when he started broadcasting his thoughts, but there doesn't seem to be any stopping it.
"I mean, you know what I'm saying?" Jim asks. He looks to Chekov, who will probably be more accommodating. Chekov wilts, smiling nervously.
"It's like - like - if you're gonna be with Spock, you know, you'd better just understand what you've signed up for. Right?" Jim says the last word so loudly that Chekov actually jumps. Sulu clears his throat like a bouncer and Jim laughs. Sulu as Chekov's bouncer. The bouncer for people who want to get into Chekov. Not that Jim does. Not that Sulu would ever let anyone in! No matter how hot they were! Or high-ranking! Or whatever. That's hilarious. Jim finishes his drink, and then realizes that he's been drinking from Chekov's glass.
"Oh, hey, sorry about that, Checkers my boy." Jim gestures to the bartender. "Let's get you another one."
"Actually, Captain, we have to be somewhere," Sulu says, standing. Jim swivels around and almost falls off his stool, but Chekov stands up behind him and steadies him.
"Somewhere? Where? Hey, I might have time to go with you, I mean, I don't really know what time my party's starting, it not, like, a set thing, you know, so -"
"It's our room, actually," Sulu says. "We have to go up to our room. Okay?" He raises an eyebrow, and Jim laughs, thinking of Spock.
"You guys are rooming together? That's awesome, man, that's what I should have done. I mean, do you even like this hotel? It's kind of creepy, don't you think?"
"Goodnight, Captain," Sulu says, patting Jim's back once.
"Yes, Captain, and a very happy birthday to you!" Chekov calls back as Sulu grabs his shoulder and leads him away. Jim stares after them longingly. That fucking Sulu. Chekov probably wanted to stay. Of course he did. They were just getting started. He bets Chekov is funny as shit when he's drunk. He would, like. Start acting extra Russian. It would be classic.
He watches them walk over to the elevators, Chekov talking and Sulu holding out his hands as if he doesn't know what to say. They stop to wait with a group of others who are going up to their rooms, and Chekov says something that makes Sulu smile and reach down to touch his face. Sulu strokes Chekov's cheeks and bends down to kiss him on the tip of his nose. Jim chokes with surprise, waiting for Chekov to blush and demur, but he beams up at Sulu and puts his hands on Sulu's chest. Oh. So they're in love. Or something. Yeah, they look like they are. Relatively sober and looking at each other like that. Chekov leans in to hug Sulu, pressing his face to Sulu's shoulder, and he looks like he's experiencing some epiphany of gratitude, Sulu stroking his hand down Chekov's back and kissing the top of his head. Best friends who fell in love. Yeah, okay. Lucky them. That explains why they slide their chairs together in the center of the console whenever they get the chance. Jim thought they were just telling secrets. He'd always sort of wondered if they were talking about him.
He stays at the bar, sipping a Budweiser miserably. It has not escaped his attention that his mother seems to have forgotten to call. Again. He checks his communicator just in case. No messages.
"Cap'en?" someone slurs at his shoulder, and Jim whirls around eagerly, beaming when he finds Scotty standing - barely - behind him. Scotty's eyes are half shut and he's sort of . . . drooling, but he looks really happy to see Jim.
"Scotty!" Jim says, throwing his arms out, and for the first time all day someone responds the way he's been wanting them to. Scotty throws his arms out, too, and he and Jim hug enthusiastically, laughing as if one of them has told some fantastic joke.
"Sit down!" Jim says. "Have a drink with me!"
"Don't mind if 'a do!" Scotty says, falling to a seat and gripping the bar for traction.
They drink and talk, or anyway, Scotty talks and Jim tries to keep up. He feels depressingly sober in comparison to Scotty, and his attempts to keep up with Scotty's slanting strands of conversation are confused at best.
"How about Uhura?" Scotty says at one point, elbowing Jim.
"Um, she's pretty?"
Scotty laughs out some unintelligible agreement, something about putting his driver to the coils of her generator.
"Well, she's with Spock," Jim says.
"Who is now?" Scotty asks, squinting at him.
"Um, Uhura is. With him. They're, like. Together. I think."
"Uhura!" Scotty says, and Jim jumps. Scotty lifts his glass. "Now there's a lass with an arse to write home about!"
"Hey, you want to know something weird?" Jim says, leaning in close, and Scotty ducks down to hear it. "Chekov, you know, little Chekov, voice-shaky Chekov, with the curls? Sulu is apparently, like, sharing a room with him. You know. Like, romantically."
"Um, yeah?" Scotty grins and then laughs. "You didn' know that? Those two've been fucking like rabbits since day one."
"What?" Jim yelps. He's not sure why this bothers him, but what isn't bothering him right now? Worst fucking birthday ever. Scotty is about two minutes from passing out on the bar and Jim doubts he'll even remember this conversation in the morning. Maybe Jim won't, either. Probably for the best if he doesn't.
"Yeah, c'mon!" Scotty says, slapping Jim's shoulder. "I can' believe you haven't caught them at it by now. It's kind of a known thing that they do it in the chairs on the bridge, ever'bodies' got a story."
"Not in my chair!" Jim says, horrified.
"Uh, no, never," Scotty says, burying his face in his pint.
Jim turns to his Budweiser solemnly; he's lost count and isn't sure how many he's had. Scotty is snoozing on the bar top when he turns back, his hand still around his whiskey glass. Jim gets up and wanders aimlessly through the crowded bar, bumping shoulders with people who are laughing with their friends, drawing annoyed looks. He feels like debris floating through space, like something that only ever gets in the way. Is this how life off of the Enterprise will always be, aimless and lonely? Well, fuck it. Maybe he's just a workaholic. Ha ha.
He's surprised to find that the sun is rising over Zugar when he leaves the bar. The sky is pale and blue, reminding him of early morning on Earth. The vendors that were screaming the night before are packing in their wares, muttering to each other and smoking urupa cigarettes. Kirk stumbles past them, all the way out to the edges of the city, the love hotels dwindling and the residential areas looming around him, depressing high rises with laundry hanging on every balcony. He's ready to sit down on the curb and put his head in his hands like the scrawny loser he was in elementary school when he sees someone standing on the street corner up ahead, wearing a Starfleet uniform and staring down at a map, a pair of dorky binoculars hanging around his neck. It's Spock.
"Hey!" Jim shouts, jogging down the road, only considering the fact that he might not be welcomed with open arms when he's already halfway to Spock, who is staring at him with his usual blank expression, which could be acceptance, rejection or both. Jim is out of breath when he arrives.
"I thought you stayed on the ship," Jim says.
"Why did you think that, Captain?" Spock asks, still holding his map with both hands. He doesn't look surprised to see Jim at all, as if they were always scheduled to meet on this street corner.
"Uhura told me you were working," Jim says. He feels a little embarrassed, but he's not sure why. It's not like Spock knows, or cares, that no one remembered Jim's birthday.
"It is true that I was doing work on the ship last night," Spock says. "Perhaps I should have told Nyota that I was planning to do some research on Zugar this morning, but she did not seem to want to hear me speak any longer and walked way before I could mention it."
Jim grins, because this is the closest Spock will get to dishing about Uhura the way that she did about him, and Jim is really the only friend Spock has for confiding in about things like this. He slaps Spock's shoulder.
"Research, eh?" Jim says. "In what, the copulating behaviors of the crew while they're on shore leave?"
"No," Spock says, as if that was a serious question. "My research will take me outside of the city. Zugar is home to a very rare species of bird that has always fascinated me."
"Oh yeah? Well, look at you, you've got your binoculars and everything."
Spock stares at Jim for a moment as if he's not sure what to make of him. Jim just stands there trying not to look pathetic.
"Would you be interested in accompanying me, Captain?" Spock asks. "It's a difficult hike to the bird's nesting grounds, but I think it will be rewarding if we manage to locate a specimen."
"I guess," Jim says, a feeling like the first breath of air he's taken in twelve hours pouring into him. "Sounds kinda boring, but. Whatever. It's not like I'm busy."
"Have you been drinking, Captain?" Spock asks, handing Jim a canteen filled with water. Jim takes it from him and guzzles the water until the canteen is half-empty.
"No," he says, breathless, handing it back to Spock, who raises his eyebrow at it. Spock heads further from the city and Jim walks along beside him, noticing that the jungle that comprises most of Zugar has begun to creep into the edges of the city, vines twisting up buildings and bright flowers blooming in the cracks of the sidewalk. The jungle looms wildly in the distance, and the air begins to feel clearer as he and Spock approach.
"So you're into birds," Jim says.
"I am interested in avian life on varoius planets, yes," Spock says.
"Hey, Spock, can I ask you something?"
"You may ask, Captain." He doesn't make any promises about answering. Jim smirks.
"Why didn't you just humor Uhura last night and bring her along on your little bird-watching expedition this morning? You guys could have at least had a quiet night together in a hotel." He thinks of Sulu and Chekov and again feels jealous, though he doesn't want to be with either of them. It's more their situation that Kirk envies. It must make the whole thing so fucking easy. Being friends first.
"Uhura does not enjoy hiking," Spock says.
"Spock, c'mon. There's more to it than that."
Spock is quiet for a moment, staring straight ahead as they approach the last of the pavement, which dead ends against a dirt road that leads into the jungle, where they can hear plenty of birds screaming with delight as the sun rises.
"I considered several options for the use of my evening and came to the conclusion that it was more logical to use my free time to finish plotting the course for my hike rather than spending time with Nyota and her friends."
"What, they aren't your friends, too?" Jim asks, though he knows it's a dumb question. He and Spock walk into the jungle, which is still relatively dark under the trees. It's nice. Peaceful.
"I suppose they are friendly in their behavior toward me, but I do not consider them friends, no," Spock says, unfolding his map. "We should take a right here," he says, walking ahead and then looking back to make sure Jim has followed.
"You consider me a friend, right?" Jim says when he catches up. It's probably another dumb question, but he's feeling a little wounded after last night and needs to hear it out loud. Spock stops walking and turns to Jim, lifting one eyebrow. Jim resists the urge to imitate him.
"Yes, Captain, I consider you to be a friend." Spock leaves off the of course, but it's obvious enough in the look on his face. Jim slings an arm around him and grins as they walk forward together.
"Just checking," Jim says. "I'm sure you've studied enough of human psychology to know that I'm an insecure bastard."
"I have come to the conclusion that you are insecure about some aspects of your personality, particularly about the way your peers and inferiors perceive you," Spock says. "Thankfully it does not extend to your work and does not affect your performance. You are not, however, by the technical definition, a bastard."
"Well, that's good to know."
"Nor are you a bastard by the colloquial definition, in my opinion."
"Thanks, man," Jim says, grinning. He never would have guessed that Spock would become the only one on the Enterprise who really makes him feel like he can be himself and be appreciated for it.
They walk for a long time, the sun rising and the day warming up. Jim brings up the trade treaty with the Pandorians that the Enterprise has spent a lot of time defending in the past year, and he and Spock argue about its worth. Jim gets worked up and Spock remains rational and collected. Jim would really do anything to get a rise out of him, but he's a little afraid to, as well, considering that Spock tried to kill him the last time he succeeded.
"Remember when you almost killed me?" Jim asks, panting as they climb a steep hill that will apparently offer them a good view of the nesting place of this bird Spock is so interested in.
"I have apologized to you for that incident, Jim, and I hope that you understood my apology to be sincere." Spock is of course not out of breath, but his voice sounds a little tight, and Jim is sorry he brought this up. To him, somehow, it has become a kind of good memory. He pulls himself up onto a kind of platform of rock that is jutting out of the hill, where Spock has stopped to wait for him. Jim stumbles and falls against Spock, who catches him. Jim smiles up at him.
"You called me Jim," he says.
"Forgive me --"
"No, it's okay. You can call me that when we're on the ship, whenever, I don't care."
Spock blinks at him a few times, and Jim realizes that he's still holding onto Spock's arm. He lets go and takes a step away, letting out his breath. The landscape around them is beautiful, but they're still looking at each other.
"I seem to be more likely to use your first name in conversation when we are discussing personal matters," Spock says.
"Yeah, 'cause we discuss personal matters so often," Jim says, laughing. "C'mere, look at this."
Spock steps closer to Jim, and Jim slings his arm around him, throwing his other hand out in the general direction of the jungle, which is green and glistening under the sun as it climbs higher into the sky.
"I bet you know what that mountain is called," Jim says, pointing at the horizon.
"It is a volcano, Captain, and it is called Pjokoik by the local people."
"You sure you're pronouncing that correctly?" Jim asks, jostling him.
"That is the correct pronunciation, yes."
"Oh, I'm sure it is, I'm just kidding. Does Uhura correct your pronunciation all the time, too? Never mind, don't answer that. But hey, I was thinking. If you'd rather draw a map than spend time with your girlfriend, is she really your girlfriend? You know what I mean?"
Jim is aware of the fact that he's being obnoxious, and he feels Spock go a bit stiffer under his arm. Jim releases him, feeling guilty. It's been awhile since he was intimate with somebody. Two days. It's possible that he's being a little overly grabby.
"Out of respect for Nyota, I do not wish to discuss the matter further," Spock says.
"Okay, sorry. You're right. So where's your bird?" Jim sits down with his back to a flat section of rock, trying not to feel so dejected. It's something he's had to get used to as his friendship with Spock grows. Jim is not usually a sensitive guy, but Spock kind of gets to him.
"The bird, which is called the Viensian Pipe Tail in standard Federation English and is referred to as the Klumax by the local people, should be visible soon if we exercise some patience."
"Alright, so c'mon, have a seat," Jim says, whacking the flat of rock beside him. Spock turns and seems to consider whether or not he should do as Jim asked. When he finally sits down he keeps a suitable distance between them, which shouldn't disappoint Jim as much as it does. He hears thunder overhead and groans.
"The storm clouds are a regular occurrence in the mornings on Zugar, Captain," Spock says. "They are a positive sign, as the Viensian Pipe Tail often appears most vibrantly in a rain storm, with its mating feathers visible."
"Mating feathers, eh?" Kirk mutters. "I don't suppose you brought an umbrella?" he asks as he feels a fat drop of rain splash against his nose.
"As a matter of fact, I did," Spock says, and Kirk thinks he sounds a little pleased with himself as he reaches down to unclip the Econo-Folding Umbrella from his belt. It opens up much wider than seems possible, considering the tiny square it folds into when it's closed. Still, it's necessary for Jim and Spock to move closer together to stay out of the rain, which is quickly falling in thick sheets around them.
"I should have warned you about this phenomenon before we embarked," Spock says, keeping his eyes on the jungle. His shoulder is warm against Jim's, and Jim can see the slightest green coloration creeping across Spock's cheeks, as if he's uncomfortable with their proximity.
"Don't worry," Jim says. "I don't suspect you of bringing me up here just so you could get me under your umbrella." Jim smirks and gives Spock's knee a friendly pat, but Spock still won't look at him, his face going a bit greener.
"If you don't mind, Captain, I will activate the umbrella's hands-free feature so that I do not have to hold it throughout the downpour," Spock says.
"You don't need my permission to float an umbrella," Jim says. "Not off ship, anyway," he adds with a smirk, but Spock still doesn't seem to be in the mood for joking. Of course, he never really is. For some reason that makes prodding him with jokes all the more satisfying. Maybe Jim is just a glutton for punishment.
Once the umbrella is floating over them, Spock crosses his arms over his chest and stares out at the jungle with his usual stoic expression. Occasionally, he'll lift his binoculars up and scan the tree tops, but Kirk hasn't seen anything remotely bird-like since they arrived. Jim sighs and shifts around, his ass beginning to get sore against the rock. He's about to ask Spock how much longer he plans on staying up here when Spock speaks first.
"If I may ask you a question, Captain," Spock says, finally turning to look at Jim, who tips his head back against the rock and gives Spock his full attention.
"Shoot," he says.
"Does your curiosity about my situation with Lieutenant Uhura derive from a romantic interest that you continue to hold for her?"
That was about the last thing Jim expected Spock to say, and he boggles openly for a moment.
"No," he answers honestly. Uhura is hot as hell, but she kind of scares the crap out of Jim. He almost definitely couldn't handle her.
"Thank you," Spock says, turning back to the jungle.
"You're worried about me macking on your girlfriend?" Jim asks in disbelief. Spock has never seemed like the jealous type, and he's certainly never seemed insecure about his relationship with Uhura.
"I am not worried about anything," Spock says, but his blush is deepening. Jim still remembers the first time he saw Spock blush, after Uhura had kissed him on the teleportation platform. He's still pretty fascinated by Spock's blush, just because it's so different from his own. He's never seen it this close.
"C'mon, Spock," Jim says, shoving his shoulder against Spock's, which gives him a pleasant, bouncy sensation in his stomach. "What is going on with you two?"
"I believe I mentioned that I do not wish to discuss the matter further."
"Well then why are you asking me if I have 'romantic' feelings for Uhura?"
"I am simply curious about the nature of your interest."
"I'm interested because I'm your friend! Just because you're not interested in who I sleep with doesn't mean I'm not -- you know -- I mean, I'm human over here, okay? And it's something you care about, clearly. And I care about the things my friends care about."
"Please do not presume that I am not aware of the customs involved in human friendship."
Jim feels more chuffed by this than anything, and he turns back to the jungle, frowning out at the heavy rain. It's beginning to leak across the rock and get the cuffs of his pants wet, so he pulls his knees up to his chest. Spock does the same. They sit staring glumly out at the jungle, and despite his annoyance with Spock's questions about his curiosity, Jim begins to feel peaceful again, enjoying the warm pressure of Spock's shoulder against his and the quiet that Spock makes Jim feel okay about sinking into.
"Do you know the reason that Zugar became known as a planet for irresponsible recreation?" Spock asks, and it feels a little like a concession.
"No," Jim says. "Why?"
"It is because of the Viensian Pipe Tail. According to local lore, a sighting of the Viensian Pipe Tail is said to bring about feelings of recklessness and desire. The bird is a sort of cultural symbol for the planet because of this legend."
"And you felt guilty for not warning me about the rain before we came up here?" Jim asks, smirking at Spock. "Am I going to see this bird and tear my pants off and --"
"No," Spock says, a bit loudly, stopping him there. "It is only a myth. There is no scientific basis for this belief."
"Uh-huh," Jim says, pushing Spock's shoulder with his, this time leaving their shoulders pressed very snugly together when that bouncy feeling pools low in his stomach. "Now I know why you really brought me up here."
"That is not the reason --"
"I know, I know, I was only joking."
"I did have a reason for inviting you along, Captain," Spock says, still a bit defensive.
"Oh yeah? And what was that?"
"I was preoccupied with the situation with Uhura yesterday morning, and I was regretful that I did not have the opportunity to wish you a satisfactory birthday."
Jim turns to Spock, stunned. Spock stares back at him, his expression blank but his eyes warm with the smile that doesn't show on his lips. Jim feels as if he's had all the air squeezed out of him.
"You remembered my birthday?" Jim says, his voice squeaking a little with surprise.
"Yes, Captain. The date of your birth is available in your public file on the Enterprise's main personnel database. I made an inquiry and added the date to my personal calendar. Because you are my friend."
Jim's mouth is working but no words are forming on his tongue. For a minute he thinks he's actually going to cry. Then he has the even more disturbing inclination to lay his head on Spock's shoulder and cling to him.
"Thanks," he says instead. "Thanks, Spock."
"You are quite welcome, Jim. Unfortunately, I did not have time to procure an inexpensive trifle as a gift according to human custom."
"That's okay," Jim says, scoffing. "I'd much rather just. Spend time with you." Now Jim is blushing, too, and much more deeply than Spock's faint green. He's got a whole pleasure paradise planet available to him, and he can't imagine wanting to be anyplace else, or doing anything but sit with Spock, just like this, pressed together to keep out of the rain. He's never really had the opportunity to draw in so physically close to Spock, however else they've bonded in the past year. He's never allowed himself to realize how much he's wanted to. It's curiosity, mostly. And admiration. But doesn't everything romantic begin that way?
"Look, Jim," Spock says softly, turning back to the jungle as a brilliant red burst of feathers emerges from the foliage. Jim can't contain a gasp, because the Viensian Pipe Tail is really magnificent, well worth the hike. Its feathers are mostly red but also streaked with iridescent green and purple, and it moves with an uncanny grace through the rainfall.
"Let me see," Jim says, grabbing for the binoculars that are still hanging around Spock's neck. He yanks them up to his eyes, pulling Spock's cheek flush against his as he does, and he can barely concentrate on watching the bird when Spock doesn't move away. He can feel the heat of Spock's growing blush against his own.
"Beautiful," Jim says as the bird dances through the rain. It's hypnotic, the way it dashes its long tail feathers against the water, as if it's writing secret messages in the sky. Jim starts to feel not just warm but hot, and when he takes the binoculars away he turns toward Spock, their noses bumping together.
"Jim," Spock says, maybe warningly, but Jim has that bird to blame, so he shuts his eyes and places a very chaste kiss against Spock's lips. He tastes a little minty, like toothpaste, and Jim grins, because it's funny, somehow, the idea of Spock brushing his teeth.
"I can't help it," Jim whispers against Spock's lips, and it's true, he feels completely overtaken by desire that is nothing like the frantic nose dive toward sex that usually pulls him over onto his companions. This feels quiet and effortless, like being suspended in water but still being able to breathe. He kisses Spock again, experimentally, and Spock doesn't push him away, so he opens his mouth a bit, licking across Spock's bottom lip. Spock's mouth falls open just slightly, and when Jim peeks at Spock's face his eyes are shut, lashes fluttering against his skin. Jim licks past Spock's surprisingly soft lips and into the heat of his mouth, groaning when their tongues meet, and Spock responds by reaching up to hold Jim's face in his warm palm. It's such a simple gesture, but it feels so good that Jim actually whimpers.
"Jim," Spock says again, as if that is the only word he knows for this. He strokes his fingers down the side of Jim's face and then along the length of his jaw.
"Please, I need this so much," Jim says, his voice breaking over the words, and he's not sure why he admitted that, but Spock has this talent for drawing the truth out of him. Spock reaches up to hold Jim's face again, the pressure of his fingers increasing slightly as Jim kisses him, the pace leisurely but the press of their lips firm and insistent, Jim's breath coming so fast and Spock's quickening slightly as well. Jim rubs his hand across Spock's chest, tentatively at first and then more boldly, sneaking his fingers up to hold Spock's neck as he angles their bodies together.
"Have you wanted this?" Jim asks, casting aside his dignity and straddling Spock's lap. Spock holds Jim's hips and looks up at him, his melting eyes the only indication that he's beginning to feel out of control.
"Yes, Jim," Spock admits, and Jim kisses him so hard for that. The rain is falling harder around them, pounding the canvas of the umbrella and almost covering up the sound of Jim's rushing breath. Jim is hard in his pants and he's beginning to feel crazed in that familiar way, the soft newness of kissing Spock dissolving into a burning need to get off. He makes himself stop and rest his forehead against Spock's, shutting his eyes and holding Spock's face with both hands. When he opens his eyes, Spock is studying him curiously, like he's a native species, something for Spock's notes on the planet.
"Please tell me you feel it, too," Jim says, whining out the words, and he presses his ass down more firmly over Spock's lap, groaning with satisfaction when he feels the solid shape of Spock's erection.
"I am enjoying myself," Spock says softly, and Jim laughs before kissing him again, grinding their bodies together while he does. The slightest tremble moves through Spock, and Jim is blown apart by it, more than any wrenching moan he's ever driven out of anyone. When Spock's hands move up underneath Jim's shirt, the pads of his fingers gently stroking across Jim's skin, Jim sobs and nods wildly, egging him on.
"No one ever," Jim says. "Like this." He's not sure what the hell he's even trying to say, so he kisses Spock in lieu of talking, still dragging his own erection against Spock's. He reaches down to undo his belt, needing to be free, wanting to feel the cool breeze across the hillside on the skin of his cock. Spock continues to stroke Jim's back, kissing Jim's face lightly as Jim struggles to pull out his cock and breathe at the same time. When he does manage to work a hand into his open pants he moans in relief, stroking himself and feeling as if he'll die if he doesn't come in the next two seconds, everything coiled too tight.
"Jim," Spock says, drawing Jim's eyes back up to his with the question in his voice. Jim looks up at him, huffing and panting and having a hard time not closing his mouth over Spock's, but he looks like he's got something to say. Spock strokes Jim's face, full of restraint, but Jim can feel it in the reverent press of Spock's fingers, how long he's wanted to touch him.
"You look beautiful like this," Spock says, as if he's surprised by the phenomenon and wants Jim to explain why. Jim doesn't feel beautiful, he feels wrecked and wanton and red-faced. He presses his face against Spock's and pretty much almost dies when Spock's hand closes over the head of his cock, massaging it with measured squeezes, his thumb stroking the shaft.
"Fuck!" Jim cries, and then he's coming all over Spock's hand and shirt, growling with satisfaction as he spills himself everywhere. He feels like he hasn't had an orgasm in years. Or ever. This is something else entirely, and it leaves him completely broken, slumped against Spock, who holds the back of Jim's neck protectively when thunder rumbles around them.
"Oh, God, that was good," Jim moans, his face buried against Spock's neck. "So, so fucking good." Spock has no comment, probably because he's still hard. Jim takes a deep, grunting breath and sits back to kiss Spock again. Already it feels so natural, though he suspects that he'll never get used to the slide of Spock's tongue against his. It's like a shock wave all the way down his spine, every time.
"Let me," Jim says, reaching for the front buttons on Spock's trousers. Spock doesn't flinch or tense; he trusts Jim completely, Jim can see it in his eyes, even with his face still nearly expressionless, his mouth just a bit tight with anticipation. Jim almost loses it again at the thought: Spock trusts him so much, this much. It means more to Jim than anything ever has.
Spock, of course, lasts longer than Jim, his eyes falling shut only briefly as Jim strokes him. He doesn't come until Jim has scrambled down to take his cock in his mouth, his pants slipping to reveal his bare ass to the jungle behind them. Jim's lips slide all the way down to the base of Spock's prick as he nearly chokes on the length of him. Spock moans just slightly when he comes, and Jim is sorry that he can't see his face, but next time -- there had better be a fucking next time. He's already worried about it as he swallows Spock's come, which tastes human enough, and as vaguely unpleasant as any Jim has ever swallowed.
Jim crawls back up Spock's body, dumps himself onto Spock's chest and sighs with the most profound relief he's ever known. He knows he must look sloppy and ridiculous to Spock, who places one hand on Jim's head and the other at the small of his back, applying just enough pressure, as if he read this in a manual about the treatment of humans following sexual activity. Jim grins against Spock's shirt, his eyes closed. He just experienced sexual activity with Spock. It's hilariously hard to believe, and then he thinks of Uhura.
"We have to tell her," Jim says, knowing Spock will understand whom he's talking about.
"She expressed interest in partnering with others before embarking to Zugar," Spock says. "So perhaps this is not her concern."
Jim grunts, sure that Uhura would be pretty fucking concerned if she found out about this. Well, they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. Hopefully she's partnering with others in the meantime.
"Want me to get off of you?" Jim asks, dangerously close to falling asleep. The rain is still coming down hard, and the sound is so soothing, like a steady curtain around them.
"You may maintain your current position," Spock says, and Jim has never appreciated anyone's generosity more.
"That fucking bird, man," Jim says, clinging, his arms circling around Spock's back. "The legends are true."
"That was not the Viensian Pipe Tail that we observed, Captain," Spock says. "It was a Flaming Crescent Bird, known to the locals as --"
"Oh, so I'm Captain again, am I? I see how it is."
Spock's fingers thread in between the spikes of Jim's hair, and his other hand curls up around Jim's shoulder.
"Jim," Spock says lightly, and it's somewhere between a scolding, a concession, and an endearment. Jim's eyes burn with unspilled tears and he grins so hard it hurts. He's never had a birthday like this, but he's already praying that his next one will also involve drifting to sleep in Spock's arms on a cliff on an alien planet. He really couldn't ask for more.
//
Title: Best Birthday Ever
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Kirk/Spock (Sulu/Chekov in the background)
Rating: R
Summary: It's shore leave time for the crew of the Enterprise, BUT IT IS ALSO KIRK'S BIRTHDAY, and he stalks his crew when nobody throws him a party.
Notes: Thanks so much to chlorate for beta reading!
First of all, it's raining. Which is not ideal. Kirk scowls at the weather monitor in his stateroom as he reads the news about the planet below. The shore leave shuttle is leaving in an hour, and maybe by the time it lands the weather in the resort town he's disembarking to for a week will have changed. In the meantime, he'll have to listen to Bones griping about the danger of bringing a shuttle through a thunderstorm.
Thinking of Bones, Jim grins and pulls his "first day of shore leave" shirt over his head, unbuttoning it down to his chest. He combs his fingers through his hair, grabs the bag he's packed for his time away from the ship and winks at himself in the mirror. Twenty-seven years of James Tiberius Kirk wrecking havoc across the universe. Well, twenty-five of wreaking havoc on earth and one year and two hours of wrecking havoc across the universe. Youngest captain of a Federation vessel in history. First person to have sex on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise. As far as he knows, anyway. But it's a pretty safe bet.
Feeling a little more impressed with himself than usual, which is his due, he figures, since it's his birthday, he marches down the hall to the sick bay, ready to receive his birthday gift from his best friend, and to begin making plans for the raucous weekend they'll have down on Zugar, the wildest vacation planet in the galaxy. It's no coincidence that Jim set a course for Zugar to coincide with his birthday. He gives Bones a wicked grin as he makes his way into the sick bay, and Bones scowls.
"What do you want?" Bones asks. His sleeves are rolled up and his hair is a mess. "And don't say condoms, Jim, I swear to God. I've been up for forty-two hours with this Potts kid and the good news is that his boils have started to burst." Bones is glaring at Jim as if he dares him to do anything but offer him a back rub. Jim scoffs and throws his hands out.
"Bones, hello?" he says. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh, yeah," Bones says, his jaw tightening. "The engineer who's about to deliver twins." He nods to a sick bed that is surrounded by curtains. "That should be a fun break between bouts of mopping up boil juice."
"That's not what I meant," Jim says, following Bones across the room as he carries a pan of something that Jim doesn't want to know anything about to the sink to wash it out. "It's my birthday!" Jim announces, forgiving his friend for forgetting in the midst of all this work. "And I don't know if you've had time to notice, but we are docked over Zugar, Bones. Zugar, birthplace of virtual sex entertainment? And like, plenty of regular sex, too? So stick someone else on your shift and let's go tear this fucker up!"
"Yeah, that's great, Jim," Bones says, letting the pan clatter loudly into the sink. "You go, have a fantastic time. I'll just be here busting my ass because my entire staff has signed up for shore leave this weekend."
"What? How could that have happened?"
"I don't know, Captain," Bones says. He narrows his eyes, and for a minute Jim is actually kind of afraid of him. "You're the one whose name was signed to the bottom of their leave forms."
"I don't remember doing that!"
"There's the surprise of the decade!" Bones bellows, bending backward to roll his eyes at the ceiling. He groans and pushes Jim aside to rummage in his cabinets.
"Bones," Jim says, waiting for the punch line. Maybe this is all part of the big surprise, maybe the whole crew is going to jump out from behind those curtains where the pregnant engineer is allegedly resting and throw confetti all over him, proclaiming him gullible and giving him noogies. He waits. Bones continues grumbling and begins unwinding gauze from a large wheel.
"You'd better go or you'll miss your shuttle," Bones says bitterly, keeping his eyes on his work. "Happy birthday," he adds, scoffing as he heads back to the guy with the boils.
*
Jim tries not to let Bones' predicament spoil his mood or make him feel guilty, though maybe he should have looked at those leave applications more closely. It's pretty much a travesty that he's expected to do any paperwork at all, and he usually just tries to get it over with as quickly as possible. If a bunch of forms require his signature he tends to pretend he's signing copies of his autobiography for his fans. Makes the work go faster.
He heads for the shuttle, slapping crew members on the shoulders as he makes his way through the halls, pretending to remember all their names. Since he actually doesn't, he supposes he can't feel too miffed when nobody mentions his birthday. Maybe they're too intimidated to bring it up. Maybe he should have discreetly asked Chekov to announce the occasion over the intercom this morning. It totally would have seemed like it was all Chekov's idea. Because Chekov, like, worships him, of course. Now it's probably too late, with everyone piling onto the shuttle. Damn.
"Uhura!" he calls when he sees her buckling into a seat near the back of the shuttle. Jim weaves through the crowd and takes the seat beside her, grinning when he imagines that he's beat Spock to it. "Where's Spock?" he asks, looking around the shuttle, ready to rub it in.
"I wouldn't know," Uhura says, raising her eyebrows in that way that always makes Jim nervous. She slapped him, once.
"What, he's not coming?" Jim asks. Uhura shuts her eyes for a moment, then opens them, taking a deep breath.
"Apparently, he has work to do," she says, very tightly. "Which I completely understand. And which I understood the last time he skipped the shore leave. And the time before that. And the time before that."
"I can't imagine Spock on Zugar, anyway," Kirk says, though actually he'd like to see that. Hilarity would almost definitely ensue. "So hang with me! We'll go to that club, what's the one, the one with the margarita water slide?"
"I'm pretty sure they call them qeyetas on Zugar, Captain, not margaritas," Uhura says. So she's in one of these moods, ready to correct Jim when he refers to important cultural whatevers as 'that toilet-seat looking thing' or 'those crackers that taste like dog hair.' Fine, okay -- after a few drinks she'll still be a valuable member of his birthday celebration.
"Okay, kwee-et-tas, fine, but listen --"
"It's actually pronounced key--"
"Hey!" Jim says, throwing up his hands. "Did I mention it's my birthday?"
Uhura stares at him for a moment, then looks sad. Jim wilts, letting his arms fall back to his knees.
"Oh, Jim," she says, touching his arm. "Happy birthday. What are you going to do to celebrate?"
"Um, hang out with my friends! Right? Right?" He punches her shoulder lightly, and the sad look on her face shifts back to one of annoyance.
"I'm actually planning on going for drinks with Ryta and Penny and venting about some things," she says. "Personal things."
"Well, great! I love Ryta, she's got those boots! Don't know Penny but I'm sure --"
"Actually, you do know her, you slept with her a month ago and then introduced yourself as if you'd never met two weeks later," Uhura says. Jim definitely recognizes this look on Uhura's face, and it's never meant anything good. "And you threw up on Ryta's boots at that bar on the Enzine space station, so she's not exactly your biggest fan, either."
"That's all water under the bridge," Jim says, slashing his hand through the air. The shuttle's engines begin firing for takeoff, and a supervisor shyly asks the Captain if he'll please buckle his safety belt.
"Of course!" Jim says, making a big show of doing so, everyone turning to stare. "Safety first!"
"Listen, Jim," Uhura says when he turns back to her. The shuttle pulls away from the Enterprise, drifting out into space, Zugar glowing blue and green below. "I really and sincerely wish you a happy birthday, that's -- that's great. But I just, I need this weekend for me. I hope you'll understand that I can't make it to your party."
"Fine, whatever," Jim says, turning from her and shrugging his shoulders all the way up to his ears. "I mean you're gonna be missing like a once in a lifetime blowout but I guess that's not really your thing, anyway."
When he looks back to Uhura she has her pretend-shocked face on, eyebrows raised.
"Don't tell me what my thing is," she says, and Jim is starting to feel kind of glad that she won't be hanging around to spoil the festivities if she's going to be this testy all weekend. He wonders what the hell Spock did. It's got to be something more than just being addicted to work, because that's what Uhura loves about him, his dedication and his ability to happily abstain from all frivolous things. Or anyway that's what Jim has always figured she loves about him. Anyone who loves Spock would have to love him mostly for that.
*
The shuttle arrives at one of Zugar's flashy tourist portals, everything neon, hundreds of vendors already screaming advertisements for their wares as the crew of the Enterprise staggers toward the planet that is known as this quadrant of space's resident "pleasure paradise." It's actually a little shabbier than Jim expected, but whatever. He heads toward his hotel, searching the crowd for his friends from the bridge. Some of the female crew members eye him with interest, as they always do as soon as shore leave begins, and Jim shoots them filthy smiles. He'll have plenty of time for that sort of recreation tomorrow and Sunday; tonight he wants to spend his birthday with people who admire him for more than his ass.
The hotel is not exactly what he imagined. It's a little humid. Maybe even damp. And the room is way too quiet. Jim puts on the television set -- Uhura would have some fancy foreign word for it but to Jim it's just a damn TV -- and flips around until he finds a soccer game that is taking place on Earth, Argentina versus China. For the first time, like, ever, he feels kind of homesick, and he turns it off.
He goes downstairs, wondering when his friends are going to surprise him with their plans for the evening, since the cocktail hour is already approaching. Then he starts to wonder which friends he's even thinking of, if Bones and Spock aren't on planet and Uhura is too occupied with womanly troubles to show up. He looks at his reflection in the mirrored elevator and tries winking at himself but isn't really feeling it. The elevator smells like smoke. The whole hotel sorta does.
Down at the bar, he's filled with relief when he sees Chekov and Sulu sitting together, grinning at each other as if they think they're getting away with something. Jim bites down on his smile, sneaking toward them. He doesn't really recognize a lot of the other people hanging around, but that doesn't mean they're not part of the bash that Sulu and Chekov have obviously organized for him. He should have known at least Chekov would do something; he practically humps Jim's leg with joy whenever Jim runs across him while they're off duty.
"Heyy!" Jim cries, walking over to them with his arms thrown out. "I'm here!"
They turn to stare at him, Chekov's eyes wide with surprise and Sulu actually frowning a little. Nobody dives in from the periphery to yell Happy birthday! Jim lets his arms drop.
"Keptin!" Chekov says, grinning. "Are you staying at this hotel as well?" Chekov gives Sulu a furtive glance that makes Jim suspect that the plans for his party just aren't quite ready yet, and now of course Chekov is panicking.
"You bet," Jim says, leaning between them to grab at Chekov's drink. "What are you having? Vodka, straight? Checkers, dude, don't be such a cliché! We need to get you one of those Zugar margaritas --"
"Actually, he's drinking sake," Sulu says, sounding a little pissy, which Jim doesn't get, because hello, this is Zugar, lighten up, and has Chekov not told Sulu that it's Jim's birthday? Maybe not; maybe Sulu would be jealous to know that Chekov cares. Sulu is always hovering around Chekov like a maiden aunt, giving people dirty looks when they pinch Chekov's cheeks, which Jim has also asked the crew to stop doing, but only because Chekov doesn't seem to enjoy it very much.
"So, I'm sorry I ruined the surprise," Jim says, clamping his hand onto Chekov's shoulder. "But now that I'm here -- where is everybody hiding? Behind the bar?"
"Where is who hiding, sir?" Chekov asks, starting to look nervous. Sulu is still frowning and it's really beginning to annoy Jim a lot.
"The rest of the -- people." Jim looks around, but the others in the bar are oblivious to him, except for a few random chicks and one dude who look like they might want to tap that. Which he will totally take them up on. Just as soon as he works out what the hell's going on here.
"Well, it's my birthday," Jim says to Chekov, beginning to feel a little pathetic. Because what the fuck? "So. I mean that's why you guys are here, right? Like, 'cause you're off duty. And you're together. So I thought."
He just stands there feeling like an ass, Chekov with his mouth open, his bottom lip working as if he's searching for a response and having a lot of trouble coming up with one. Sulu drains his glass and Jim will be goddamned if he doesn't look a little bit triumphant.
"Happy birthday, Captain," Sulu says, raising his empty glass at Jim. In a totally assholish way.
"Yes, Happy birthday, very much!" Chekov says, his face turning red. "Please, have a drink with us Keptin, I am sure you are busy but you must, we insist!"
"Well, I do have this - thing to go to, but, whatever, I mean, if you want me to -" Jim feels like biting his tongue, because he could totally be banging twins after smoking Zugarian urupa leaves inside a virtual orgy chamber, and hey, that would be a great birthday, the best, but for some reason he just sits down between Chekov and Sulu and orders a shot of whiskey and a Budweiser Classic.
"So, twenty-seven years old," Sulu says when the conversation lags, three Classics and five shots later. "Uh. How does it feel?"
"Um, awesome, obviously," Jim says with a scoff. "I feel like I've accomplished, I mean, kind of a lot. Like that time I saved your life," he says, shoving Sulu's shoulder. In a friendly-like way.
"Oh, yeah, and hey, remember that time I saved yours? Good times."
"Yeah," Jim mutters, turning his beer bottle in his hands. It's not like Sulu can even remotely compete with Jim and everything he's done. Career achievements regardless, Sulu doesn't get caught with his pants down in the company of an attractive female crew member on a regular basis, and Jim totally does. And everyone think it's hilarious. No, not hilarious - admirable. Yeah. The closest thing Sulu has to a girlfriend is Chekov. Not that Jim has a girlfriend. Not that he wants one, just so she can get pissed at him for whatever and go trash talk him at some girlie bar with so-and-so and the girl with the boots.
He's getting pretty drunk, and when he sees Chekov looking at him warily and Sulu with barely contained laughter he realizes he's been saying all of this out loud. Or at least some of it. He's not sure when he started broadcasting his thoughts, but there doesn't seem to be any stopping it.
"I mean, you know what I'm saying?" Jim asks. He looks to Chekov, who will probably be more accommodating. Chekov wilts, smiling nervously.
"It's like - like - if you're gonna be with Spock, you know, you'd better just understand what you've signed up for. Right?" Jim says the last word so loudly that Chekov actually jumps. Sulu clears his throat like a bouncer and Jim laughs. Sulu as Chekov's bouncer. The bouncer for people who want to get into Chekov. Not that Jim does. Not that Sulu would ever let anyone in! No matter how hot they were! Or high-ranking! Or whatever. That's hilarious. Jim finishes his drink, and then realizes that he's been drinking from Chekov's glass.
"Oh, hey, sorry about that, Checkers my boy." Jim gestures to the bartender. "Let's get you another one."
"Actually, Captain, we have to be somewhere," Sulu says, standing. Jim swivels around and almost falls off his stool, but Chekov stands up behind him and steadies him.
"Somewhere? Where? Hey, I might have time to go with you, I mean, I don't really know what time my party's starting, it not, like, a set thing, you know, so -"
"It's our room, actually," Sulu says. "We have to go up to our room. Okay?" He raises an eyebrow, and Jim laughs, thinking of Spock.
"You guys are rooming together? That's awesome, man, that's what I should have done. I mean, do you even like this hotel? It's kind of creepy, don't you think?"
"Goodnight, Captain," Sulu says, patting Jim's back once.
"Yes, Captain, and a very happy birthday to you!" Chekov calls back as Sulu grabs his shoulder and leads him away. Jim stares after them longingly. That fucking Sulu. Chekov probably wanted to stay. Of course he did. They were just getting started. He bets Chekov is funny as shit when he's drunk. He would, like. Start acting extra Russian. It would be classic.
He watches them walk over to the elevators, Chekov talking and Sulu holding out his hands as if he doesn't know what to say. They stop to wait with a group of others who are going up to their rooms, and Chekov says something that makes Sulu smile and reach down to touch his face. Sulu strokes Chekov's cheeks and bends down to kiss him on the tip of his nose. Jim chokes with surprise, waiting for Chekov to blush and demur, but he beams up at Sulu and puts his hands on Sulu's chest. Oh. So they're in love. Or something. Yeah, they look like they are. Relatively sober and looking at each other like that. Chekov leans in to hug Sulu, pressing his face to Sulu's shoulder, and he looks like he's experiencing some epiphany of gratitude, Sulu stroking his hand down Chekov's back and kissing the top of his head. Best friends who fell in love. Yeah, okay. Lucky them. That explains why they slide their chairs together in the center of the console whenever they get the chance. Jim thought they were just telling secrets. He'd always sort of wondered if they were talking about him.
He stays at the bar, sipping a Budweiser miserably. It has not escaped his attention that his mother seems to have forgotten to call. Again. He checks his communicator just in case. No messages.
"Cap'en?" someone slurs at his shoulder, and Jim whirls around eagerly, beaming when he finds Scotty standing - barely - behind him. Scotty's eyes are half shut and he's sort of . . . drooling, but he looks really happy to see Jim.
"Scotty!" Jim says, throwing his arms out, and for the first time all day someone responds the way he's been wanting them to. Scotty throws his arms out, too, and he and Jim hug enthusiastically, laughing as if one of them has told some fantastic joke.
"Sit down!" Jim says. "Have a drink with me!"
"Don't mind if 'a do!" Scotty says, falling to a seat and gripping the bar for traction.
They drink and talk, or anyway, Scotty talks and Jim tries to keep up. He feels depressingly sober in comparison to Scotty, and his attempts to keep up with Scotty's slanting strands of conversation are confused at best.
"How about Uhura?" Scotty says at one point, elbowing Jim.
"Um, she's pretty?"
Scotty laughs out some unintelligible agreement, something about putting his driver to the coils of her generator.
"Well, she's with Spock," Jim says.
"Who is now?" Scotty asks, squinting at him.
"Um, Uhura is. With him. They're, like. Together. I think."
"Uhura!" Scotty says, and Jim jumps. Scotty lifts his glass. "Now there's a lass with an arse to write home about!"
"Hey, you want to know something weird?" Jim says, leaning in close, and Scotty ducks down to hear it. "Chekov, you know, little Chekov, voice-shaky Chekov, with the curls? Sulu is apparently, like, sharing a room with him. You know. Like, romantically."
"Um, yeah?" Scotty grins and then laughs. "You didn' know that? Those two've been fucking like rabbits since day one."
"What?" Jim yelps. He's not sure why this bothers him, but what isn't bothering him right now? Worst fucking birthday ever. Scotty is about two minutes from passing out on the bar and Jim doubts he'll even remember this conversation in the morning. Maybe Jim won't, either. Probably for the best if he doesn't.
"Yeah, c'mon!" Scotty says, slapping Jim's shoulder. "I can' believe you haven't caught them at it by now. It's kind of a known thing that they do it in the chairs on the bridge, ever'bodies' got a story."
"Not in my chair!" Jim says, horrified.
"Uh, no, never," Scotty says, burying his face in his pint.
Jim turns to his Budweiser solemnly; he's lost count and isn't sure how many he's had. Scotty is snoozing on the bar top when he turns back, his hand still around his whiskey glass. Jim gets up and wanders aimlessly through the crowded bar, bumping shoulders with people who are laughing with their friends, drawing annoyed looks. He feels like debris floating through space, like something that only ever gets in the way. Is this how life off of the Enterprise will always be, aimless and lonely? Well, fuck it. Maybe he's just a workaholic. Ha ha.
He's surprised to find that the sun is rising over Zugar when he leaves the bar. The sky is pale and blue, reminding him of early morning on Earth. The vendors that were screaming the night before are packing in their wares, muttering to each other and smoking urupa cigarettes. Kirk stumbles past them, all the way out to the edges of the city, the love hotels dwindling and the residential areas looming around him, depressing high rises with laundry hanging on every balcony. He's ready to sit down on the curb and put his head in his hands like the scrawny loser he was in elementary school when he sees someone standing on the street corner up ahead, wearing a Starfleet uniform and staring down at a map, a pair of dorky binoculars hanging around his neck. It's Spock.
"Hey!" Jim shouts, jogging down the road, only considering the fact that he might not be welcomed with open arms when he's already halfway to Spock, who is staring at him with his usual blank expression, which could be acceptance, rejection or both. Jim is out of breath when he arrives.
"I thought you stayed on the ship," Jim says.
"Why did you think that, Captain?" Spock asks, still holding his map with both hands. He doesn't look surprised to see Jim at all, as if they were always scheduled to meet on this street corner.
"Uhura told me you were working," Jim says. He feels a little embarrassed, but he's not sure why. It's not like Spock knows, or cares, that no one remembered Jim's birthday.
"It is true that I was doing work on the ship last night," Spock says. "Perhaps I should have told Nyota that I was planning to do some research on Zugar this morning, but she did not seem to want to hear me speak any longer and walked way before I could mention it."
Jim grins, because this is the closest Spock will get to dishing about Uhura the way that she did about him, and Jim is really the only friend Spock has for confiding in about things like this. He slaps Spock's shoulder.
"Research, eh?" Jim says. "In what, the copulating behaviors of the crew while they're on shore leave?"
"No," Spock says, as if that was a serious question. "My research will take me outside of the city. Zugar is home to a very rare species of bird that has always fascinated me."
"Oh yeah? Well, look at you, you've got your binoculars and everything."
Spock stares at Jim for a moment as if he's not sure what to make of him. Jim just stands there trying not to look pathetic.
"Would you be interested in accompanying me, Captain?" Spock asks. "It's a difficult hike to the bird's nesting grounds, but I think it will be rewarding if we manage to locate a specimen."
"I guess," Jim says, a feeling like the first breath of air he's taken in twelve hours pouring into him. "Sounds kinda boring, but. Whatever. It's not like I'm busy."
"Have you been drinking, Captain?" Spock asks, handing Jim a canteen filled with water. Jim takes it from him and guzzles the water until the canteen is half-empty.
"No," he says, breathless, handing it back to Spock, who raises his eyebrow at it. Spock heads further from the city and Jim walks along beside him, noticing that the jungle that comprises most of Zugar has begun to creep into the edges of the city, vines twisting up buildings and bright flowers blooming in the cracks of the sidewalk. The jungle looms wildly in the distance, and the air begins to feel clearer as he and Spock approach.
"So you're into birds," Jim says.
"I am interested in avian life on varoius planets, yes," Spock says.
"Hey, Spock, can I ask you something?"
"You may ask, Captain." He doesn't make any promises about answering. Jim smirks.
"Why didn't you just humor Uhura last night and bring her along on your little bird-watching expedition this morning? You guys could have at least had a quiet night together in a hotel." He thinks of Sulu and Chekov and again feels jealous, though he doesn't want to be with either of them. It's more their situation that Kirk envies. It must make the whole thing so fucking easy. Being friends first.
"Uhura does not enjoy hiking," Spock says.
"Spock, c'mon. There's more to it than that."
Spock is quiet for a moment, staring straight ahead as they approach the last of the pavement, which dead ends against a dirt road that leads into the jungle, where they can hear plenty of birds screaming with delight as the sun rises.
"I considered several options for the use of my evening and came to the conclusion that it was more logical to use my free time to finish plotting the course for my hike rather than spending time with Nyota and her friends."
"What, they aren't your friends, too?" Jim asks, though he knows it's a dumb question. He and Spock walk into the jungle, which is still relatively dark under the trees. It's nice. Peaceful.
"I suppose they are friendly in their behavior toward me, but I do not consider them friends, no," Spock says, unfolding his map. "We should take a right here," he says, walking ahead and then looking back to make sure Jim has followed.
"You consider me a friend, right?" Jim says when he catches up. It's probably another dumb question, but he's feeling a little wounded after last night and needs to hear it out loud. Spock stops walking and turns to Jim, lifting one eyebrow. Jim resists the urge to imitate him.
"Yes, Captain, I consider you to be a friend." Spock leaves off the of course, but it's obvious enough in the look on his face. Jim slings an arm around him and grins as they walk forward together.
"Just checking," Jim says. "I'm sure you've studied enough of human psychology to know that I'm an insecure bastard."
"I have come to the conclusion that you are insecure about some aspects of your personality, particularly about the way your peers and inferiors perceive you," Spock says. "Thankfully it does not extend to your work and does not affect your performance. You are not, however, by the technical definition, a bastard."
"Well, that's good to know."
"Nor are you a bastard by the colloquial definition, in my opinion."
"Thanks, man," Jim says, grinning. He never would have guessed that Spock would become the only one on the Enterprise who really makes him feel like he can be himself and be appreciated for it.
They walk for a long time, the sun rising and the day warming up. Jim brings up the trade treaty with the Pandorians that the Enterprise has spent a lot of time defending in the past year, and he and Spock argue about its worth. Jim gets worked up and Spock remains rational and collected. Jim would really do anything to get a rise out of him, but he's a little afraid to, as well, considering that Spock tried to kill him the last time he succeeded.
"Remember when you almost killed me?" Jim asks, panting as they climb a steep hill that will apparently offer them a good view of the nesting place of this bird Spock is so interested in.
"I have apologized to you for that incident, Jim, and I hope that you understood my apology to be sincere." Spock is of course not out of breath, but his voice sounds a little tight, and Jim is sorry he brought this up. To him, somehow, it has become a kind of good memory. He pulls himself up onto a kind of platform of rock that is jutting out of the hill, where Spock has stopped to wait for him. Jim stumbles and falls against Spock, who catches him. Jim smiles up at him.
"You called me Jim," he says.
"Forgive me --"
"No, it's okay. You can call me that when we're on the ship, whenever, I don't care."
Spock blinks at him a few times, and Jim realizes that he's still holding onto Spock's arm. He lets go and takes a step away, letting out his breath. The landscape around them is beautiful, but they're still looking at each other.
"I seem to be more likely to use your first name in conversation when we are discussing personal matters," Spock says.
"Yeah, 'cause we discuss personal matters so often," Jim says, laughing. "C'mere, look at this."
Spock steps closer to Jim, and Jim slings his arm around him, throwing his other hand out in the general direction of the jungle, which is green and glistening under the sun as it climbs higher into the sky.
"I bet you know what that mountain is called," Jim says, pointing at the horizon.
"It is a volcano, Captain, and it is called Pjokoik by the local people."
"You sure you're pronouncing that correctly?" Jim asks, jostling him.
"That is the correct pronunciation, yes."
"Oh, I'm sure it is, I'm just kidding. Does Uhura correct your pronunciation all the time, too? Never mind, don't answer that. But hey, I was thinking. If you'd rather draw a map than spend time with your girlfriend, is she really your girlfriend? You know what I mean?"
Jim is aware of the fact that he's being obnoxious, and he feels Spock go a bit stiffer under his arm. Jim releases him, feeling guilty. It's been awhile since he was intimate with somebody. Two days. It's possible that he's being a little overly grabby.
"Out of respect for Nyota, I do not wish to discuss the matter further," Spock says.
"Okay, sorry. You're right. So where's your bird?" Jim sits down with his back to a flat section of rock, trying not to feel so dejected. It's something he's had to get used to as his friendship with Spock grows. Jim is not usually a sensitive guy, but Spock kind of gets to him.
"The bird, which is called the Viensian Pipe Tail in standard Federation English and is referred to as the Klumax by the local people, should be visible soon if we exercise some patience."
"Alright, so c'mon, have a seat," Jim says, whacking the flat of rock beside him. Spock turns and seems to consider whether or not he should do as Jim asked. When he finally sits down he keeps a suitable distance between them, which shouldn't disappoint Jim as much as it does. He hears thunder overhead and groans.
"The storm clouds are a regular occurrence in the mornings on Zugar, Captain," Spock says. "They are a positive sign, as the Viensian Pipe Tail often appears most vibrantly in a rain storm, with its mating feathers visible."
"Mating feathers, eh?" Kirk mutters. "I don't suppose you brought an umbrella?" he asks as he feels a fat drop of rain splash against his nose.
"As a matter of fact, I did," Spock says, and Kirk thinks he sounds a little pleased with himself as he reaches down to unclip the Econo-Folding Umbrella from his belt. It opens up much wider than seems possible, considering the tiny square it folds into when it's closed. Still, it's necessary for Jim and Spock to move closer together to stay out of the rain, which is quickly falling in thick sheets around them.
"I should have warned you about this phenomenon before we embarked," Spock says, keeping his eyes on the jungle. His shoulder is warm against Jim's, and Jim can see the slightest green coloration creeping across Spock's cheeks, as if he's uncomfortable with their proximity.
"Don't worry," Jim says. "I don't suspect you of bringing me up here just so you could get me under your umbrella." Jim smirks and gives Spock's knee a friendly pat, but Spock still won't look at him, his face going a bit greener.
"If you don't mind, Captain, I will activate the umbrella's hands-free feature so that I do not have to hold it throughout the downpour," Spock says.
"You don't need my permission to float an umbrella," Jim says. "Not off ship, anyway," he adds with a smirk, but Spock still doesn't seem to be in the mood for joking. Of course, he never really is. For some reason that makes prodding him with jokes all the more satisfying. Maybe Jim is just a glutton for punishment.
Once the umbrella is floating over them, Spock crosses his arms over his chest and stares out at the jungle with his usual stoic expression. Occasionally, he'll lift his binoculars up and scan the tree tops, but Kirk hasn't seen anything remotely bird-like since they arrived. Jim sighs and shifts around, his ass beginning to get sore against the rock. He's about to ask Spock how much longer he plans on staying up here when Spock speaks first.
"If I may ask you a question, Captain," Spock says, finally turning to look at Jim, who tips his head back against the rock and gives Spock his full attention.
"Shoot," he says.
"Does your curiosity about my situation with Lieutenant Uhura derive from a romantic interest that you continue to hold for her?"
That was about the last thing Jim expected Spock to say, and he boggles openly for a moment.
"No," he answers honestly. Uhura is hot as hell, but she kind of scares the crap out of Jim. He almost definitely couldn't handle her.
"Thank you," Spock says, turning back to the jungle.
"You're worried about me macking on your girlfriend?" Jim asks in disbelief. Spock has never seemed like the jealous type, and he's certainly never seemed insecure about his relationship with Uhura.
"I am not worried about anything," Spock says, but his blush is deepening. Jim still remembers the first time he saw Spock blush, after Uhura had kissed him on the teleportation platform. He's still pretty fascinated by Spock's blush, just because it's so different from his own. He's never seen it this close.
"C'mon, Spock," Jim says, shoving his shoulder against Spock's, which gives him a pleasant, bouncy sensation in his stomach. "What is going on with you two?"
"I believe I mentioned that I do not wish to discuss the matter further."
"Well then why are you asking me if I have 'romantic' feelings for Uhura?"
"I am simply curious about the nature of your interest."
"I'm interested because I'm your friend! Just because you're not interested in who I sleep with doesn't mean I'm not -- you know -- I mean, I'm human over here, okay? And it's something you care about, clearly. And I care about the things my friends care about."
"Please do not presume that I am not aware of the customs involved in human friendship."
Jim feels more chuffed by this than anything, and he turns back to the jungle, frowning out at the heavy rain. It's beginning to leak across the rock and get the cuffs of his pants wet, so he pulls his knees up to his chest. Spock does the same. They sit staring glumly out at the jungle, and despite his annoyance with Spock's questions about his curiosity, Jim begins to feel peaceful again, enjoying the warm pressure of Spock's shoulder against his and the quiet that Spock makes Jim feel okay about sinking into.
"Do you know the reason that Zugar became known as a planet for irresponsible recreation?" Spock asks, and it feels a little like a concession.
"No," Jim says. "Why?"
"It is because of the Viensian Pipe Tail. According to local lore, a sighting of the Viensian Pipe Tail is said to bring about feelings of recklessness and desire. The bird is a sort of cultural symbol for the planet because of this legend."
"And you felt guilty for not warning me about the rain before we came up here?" Jim asks, smirking at Spock. "Am I going to see this bird and tear my pants off and --"
"No," Spock says, a bit loudly, stopping him there. "It is only a myth. There is no scientific basis for this belief."
"Uh-huh," Jim says, pushing Spock's shoulder with his, this time leaving their shoulders pressed very snugly together when that bouncy feeling pools low in his stomach. "Now I know why you really brought me up here."
"That is not the reason --"
"I know, I know, I was only joking."
"I did have a reason for inviting you along, Captain," Spock says, still a bit defensive.
"Oh yeah? And what was that?"
"I was preoccupied with the situation with Uhura yesterday morning, and I was regretful that I did not have the opportunity to wish you a satisfactory birthday."
Jim turns to Spock, stunned. Spock stares back at him, his expression blank but his eyes warm with the smile that doesn't show on his lips. Jim feels as if he's had all the air squeezed out of him.
"You remembered my birthday?" Jim says, his voice squeaking a little with surprise.
"Yes, Captain. The date of your birth is available in your public file on the Enterprise's main personnel database. I made an inquiry and added the date to my personal calendar. Because you are my friend."
Jim's mouth is working but no words are forming on his tongue. For a minute he thinks he's actually going to cry. Then he has the even more disturbing inclination to lay his head on Spock's shoulder and cling to him.
"Thanks," he says instead. "Thanks, Spock."
"You are quite welcome, Jim. Unfortunately, I did not have time to procure an inexpensive trifle as a gift according to human custom."
"That's okay," Jim says, scoffing. "I'd much rather just. Spend time with you." Now Jim is blushing, too, and much more deeply than Spock's faint green. He's got a whole pleasure paradise planet available to him, and he can't imagine wanting to be anyplace else, or doing anything but sit with Spock, just like this, pressed together to keep out of the rain. He's never really had the opportunity to draw in so physically close to Spock, however else they've bonded in the past year. He's never allowed himself to realize how much he's wanted to. It's curiosity, mostly. And admiration. But doesn't everything romantic begin that way?
"Look, Jim," Spock says softly, turning back to the jungle as a brilliant red burst of feathers emerges from the foliage. Jim can't contain a gasp, because the Viensian Pipe Tail is really magnificent, well worth the hike. Its feathers are mostly red but also streaked with iridescent green and purple, and it moves with an uncanny grace through the rainfall.
"Let me see," Jim says, grabbing for the binoculars that are still hanging around Spock's neck. He yanks them up to his eyes, pulling Spock's cheek flush against his as he does, and he can barely concentrate on watching the bird when Spock doesn't move away. He can feel the heat of Spock's growing blush against his own.
"Beautiful," Jim says as the bird dances through the rain. It's hypnotic, the way it dashes its long tail feathers against the water, as if it's writing secret messages in the sky. Jim starts to feel not just warm but hot, and when he takes the binoculars away he turns toward Spock, their noses bumping together.
"Jim," Spock says, maybe warningly, but Jim has that bird to blame, so he shuts his eyes and places a very chaste kiss against Spock's lips. He tastes a little minty, like toothpaste, and Jim grins, because it's funny, somehow, the idea of Spock brushing his teeth.
"I can't help it," Jim whispers against Spock's lips, and it's true, he feels completely overtaken by desire that is nothing like the frantic nose dive toward sex that usually pulls him over onto his companions. This feels quiet and effortless, like being suspended in water but still being able to breathe. He kisses Spock again, experimentally, and Spock doesn't push him away, so he opens his mouth a bit, licking across Spock's bottom lip. Spock's mouth falls open just slightly, and when Jim peeks at Spock's face his eyes are shut, lashes fluttering against his skin. Jim licks past Spock's surprisingly soft lips and into the heat of his mouth, groaning when their tongues meet, and Spock responds by reaching up to hold Jim's face in his warm palm. It's such a simple gesture, but it feels so good that Jim actually whimpers.
"Jim," Spock says again, as if that is the only word he knows for this. He strokes his fingers down the side of Jim's face and then along the length of his jaw.
"Please, I need this so much," Jim says, his voice breaking over the words, and he's not sure why he admitted that, but Spock has this talent for drawing the truth out of him. Spock reaches up to hold Jim's face again, the pressure of his fingers increasing slightly as Jim kisses him, the pace leisurely but the press of their lips firm and insistent, Jim's breath coming so fast and Spock's quickening slightly as well. Jim rubs his hand across Spock's chest, tentatively at first and then more boldly, sneaking his fingers up to hold Spock's neck as he angles their bodies together.
"Have you wanted this?" Jim asks, casting aside his dignity and straddling Spock's lap. Spock holds Jim's hips and looks up at him, his melting eyes the only indication that he's beginning to feel out of control.
"Yes, Jim," Spock admits, and Jim kisses him so hard for that. The rain is falling harder around them, pounding the canvas of the umbrella and almost covering up the sound of Jim's rushing breath. Jim is hard in his pants and he's beginning to feel crazed in that familiar way, the soft newness of kissing Spock dissolving into a burning need to get off. He makes himself stop and rest his forehead against Spock's, shutting his eyes and holding Spock's face with both hands. When he opens his eyes, Spock is studying him curiously, like he's a native species, something for Spock's notes on the planet.
"Please tell me you feel it, too," Jim says, whining out the words, and he presses his ass down more firmly over Spock's lap, groaning with satisfaction when he feels the solid shape of Spock's erection.
"I am enjoying myself," Spock says softly, and Jim laughs before kissing him again, grinding their bodies together while he does. The slightest tremble moves through Spock, and Jim is blown apart by it, more than any wrenching moan he's ever driven out of anyone. When Spock's hands move up underneath Jim's shirt, the pads of his fingers gently stroking across Jim's skin, Jim sobs and nods wildly, egging him on.
"No one ever," Jim says. "Like this." He's not sure what the hell he's even trying to say, so he kisses Spock in lieu of talking, still dragging his own erection against Spock's. He reaches down to undo his belt, needing to be free, wanting to feel the cool breeze across the hillside on the skin of his cock. Spock continues to stroke Jim's back, kissing Jim's face lightly as Jim struggles to pull out his cock and breathe at the same time. When he does manage to work a hand into his open pants he moans in relief, stroking himself and feeling as if he'll die if he doesn't come in the next two seconds, everything coiled too tight.
"Jim," Spock says, drawing Jim's eyes back up to his with the question in his voice. Jim looks up at him, huffing and panting and having a hard time not closing his mouth over Spock's, but he looks like he's got something to say. Spock strokes Jim's face, full of restraint, but Jim can feel it in the reverent press of Spock's fingers, how long he's wanted to touch him.
"You look beautiful like this," Spock says, as if he's surprised by the phenomenon and wants Jim to explain why. Jim doesn't feel beautiful, he feels wrecked and wanton and red-faced. He presses his face against Spock's and pretty much almost dies when Spock's hand closes over the head of his cock, massaging it with measured squeezes, his thumb stroking the shaft.
"Fuck!" Jim cries, and then he's coming all over Spock's hand and shirt, growling with satisfaction as he spills himself everywhere. He feels like he hasn't had an orgasm in years. Or ever. This is something else entirely, and it leaves him completely broken, slumped against Spock, who holds the back of Jim's neck protectively when thunder rumbles around them.
"Oh, God, that was good," Jim moans, his face buried against Spock's neck. "So, so fucking good." Spock has no comment, probably because he's still hard. Jim takes a deep, grunting breath and sits back to kiss Spock again. Already it feels so natural, though he suspects that he'll never get used to the slide of Spock's tongue against his. It's like a shock wave all the way down his spine, every time.
"Let me," Jim says, reaching for the front buttons on Spock's trousers. Spock doesn't flinch or tense; he trusts Jim completely, Jim can see it in his eyes, even with his face still nearly expressionless, his mouth just a bit tight with anticipation. Jim almost loses it again at the thought: Spock trusts him so much, this much. It means more to Jim than anything ever has.
Spock, of course, lasts longer than Jim, his eyes falling shut only briefly as Jim strokes him. He doesn't come until Jim has scrambled down to take his cock in his mouth, his pants slipping to reveal his bare ass to the jungle behind them. Jim's lips slide all the way down to the base of Spock's prick as he nearly chokes on the length of him. Spock moans just slightly when he comes, and Jim is sorry that he can't see his face, but next time -- there had better be a fucking next time. He's already worried about it as he swallows Spock's come, which tastes human enough, and as vaguely unpleasant as any Jim has ever swallowed.
Jim crawls back up Spock's body, dumps himself onto Spock's chest and sighs with the most profound relief he's ever known. He knows he must look sloppy and ridiculous to Spock, who places one hand on Jim's head and the other at the small of his back, applying just enough pressure, as if he read this in a manual about the treatment of humans following sexual activity. Jim grins against Spock's shirt, his eyes closed. He just experienced sexual activity with Spock. It's hilariously hard to believe, and then he thinks of Uhura.
"We have to tell her," Jim says, knowing Spock will understand whom he's talking about.
"She expressed interest in partnering with others before embarking to Zugar," Spock says. "So perhaps this is not her concern."
Jim grunts, sure that Uhura would be pretty fucking concerned if she found out about this. Well, they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. Hopefully she's partnering with others in the meantime.
"Want me to get off of you?" Jim asks, dangerously close to falling asleep. The rain is still coming down hard, and the sound is so soothing, like a steady curtain around them.
"You may maintain your current position," Spock says, and Jim has never appreciated anyone's generosity more.
"That fucking bird, man," Jim says, clinging, his arms circling around Spock's back. "The legends are true."
"That was not the Viensian Pipe Tail that we observed, Captain," Spock says. "It was a Flaming Crescent Bird, known to the locals as --"
"Oh, so I'm Captain again, am I? I see how it is."
Spock's fingers thread in between the spikes of Jim's hair, and his other hand curls up around Jim's shoulder.
"Jim," Spock says lightly, and it's somewhere between a scolding, a concession, and an endearment. Jim's eyes burn with unspilled tears and he grins so hard it hurts. He's never had a birthday like this, but he's already praying that his next one will also involve drifting to sleep in Spock's arms on a cliff on an alien planet. He really couldn't ask for more.
//