A Less Than Pleasant Situation (1/6)
Title: A Less Than Pleasant Situation (1/6)
Paring: Jim/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some nasty violence, angst, and cursing - they are in prison, after all.
Summary: Having come into the Star Trek fandom several decades late, my brain seems to want to work through a series of clichés... ergo, I bring you Jim and Spock in prison.
- - -
Jim was seriously considering calling it Planet Dumbfuck, in honour of the embarrassingly stupid society they had discovered.
The aliens were big and mean, with primitive clubs and nasty voices, and they didn’t seem to have much going on between their ears. Unfortunately, with strength coming in the form of numbers, their impressive levels of stupidity hadn’t stopped them from capturing Spock and Kirk.
Their guard grinned - far too many pointed teeth, with strings of blue saliva - and Jim fought the urge to gag, reminding himself that he had more important concerns.
Keeping a cautious distance between them, he surveyed the alien, wondering if he and Spock could take him. When the guard responded with an unimpressed glare, shifting ominously on his feet, Jim quickly dismissed the idea. Their jailor - while not particularly bright - was larger than either of them, and was cradling a menacing club. If there was going to be any fighting, it would have to be a sneak attack.
“My ship can blow this base to smithereens, you know.”
Bravado and bluster - Jim’s trademark escape methods, and two of Spock’s least favourite characteristics. Jim could practically feel Spock’s sudden irritation, and he concentrated on stopping a smile. Even under these circumstances, nothing was more fun than annoying Spock.
“And really,” Jim continued, trying to keep his eyes away from that nauseating mouth, “It would be better for you if you let us go before my crew gets here. Things could get messy if - ”
Jim’s train of thought derailed as their guard’s grin widened, teeth actually cutting into his own lips. Spock shot Jim an angry glare, silently cautioning him, but Jim could hardly find it in him to care.
“Captain.”
Jim didn’t hear him, too busy wondering how to fix that horrible mouth, the sight of which was actually causing him pain. Man, he thought, torn between pity and disgust. This guy needs a whole new face.
“You not go anywhere.” Their guard was gurgling happily, practically rubbing his hands together, and Jim tried to pay attention, reminding himself that a Starfleet captain couldn’t be bothered by alien drool. “You my new toys.”
Their guard looked like he was choking on poisoned candy floss - and loving every minute of it - and Jim found himself thoroughly disgusted. He began to retort, not liking the glee in the alien’s voice, but a wayward drop of saliva effectively ended his words.
It fell to the ground, where it bubbled quietly, and Jim stared at it in horror, finally losing the battle with himself. Even Spock’s cautionary glance couldn’t stop him.
“Your mother,” he started casually, talking a step backwards and nodding at the pile on the ground, “She never taught you how to use a toothbrush?”
Beside him, Spock muttered something unhappy. For some reason, it just made the situation funnier, and Jim quickly stopped a grin, knowing it would be maniacal.
“And ya know,” he continued loudly, getting into the swing of things as the smirk left Ugly Jaw’s face, “Maybe a dentist could shave those down a bit, and get rid of the stench -”
A painful fist was his only response, and Jim hit the wall with a nasty crunch. The blow had connected with his jaw, making him see stars, and he had to concentrate on breathing for a second, imagining all the nasty things he could do to Ugly Jaw once they escaped.
“Captain,” Spock started, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, as though Jim had deserved what he’d gotten. “You -”
“Shud up, Spock,” Jim muttered thickly in response, wondering how he got himself into these situations. Bringing a hand to his mouth, and trying to talk around his tongue, he checked for damage, happy to find his teeth in their rightful positions. “I think I bit my thongue.”
Spock sighed and stopped talking, carefully placing his hands behind his back. Jim staggered to his feet, fighting the urge to make another dentist joke - there would undoubtedly be retaliation, and grinning through broken teeth would kill some of the humour.
Instead, he spit blood and swallowed hard, immediately finding it easier to talk. “Why don’t you let me out, so we can have a real fight? Just you and me?”
Jim thought it was a good attempt, but Ugly Jaw seemed far from convinced. He barked something menacing, before turning and walking away, and Jim had a sudden sense of foreboding.
“Shit,” he muttered.
It wasn’t a nice sensation, and it left a nasty taste in Jim’s mouth, reminding him of how much he hated being confined. To counteract the feeling of impending doom, he imagined Ugly Jaw smeared across a pile of his own blue guck, broken teeth everywhere.
Jim laughed quietly, unable to stop himself, and Spock visibly twitched with annoyance. “Captain,” he began, the strain evident in his voice, “Must you always antagonize -”
“I wasn’t,” Jim snapped suddenly, the humour abruptly leaving him - and trust Spock to ruin a perfectly good murder fantasy. “I needed to know if I could take him, when the time comes.”
It was the truth, but Spock’s eyebrows almost disappeared into those immaculately kept bangs. “I see you retain your ability for falsehoods, Captain.”
Jim glared at him, wondering how he’d gotten stuck with a first officer who took pleasure in Jim’s pain. Spock simply smirked without moving his face, and Jim felt a surge of annoyance. “Bastard,” he muttered, but Spock just titled his head slightly, and said nothing.
Thoroughly irritated, Jim returned his gaze to the blue blob, which was still bubbling unpleasantly. “Man,” he muttered absently, feeling his stomach roll. “It’s good I’ve had plenty of practice controlling my gag reflex.”
Jim spoke without thinking, then sighed unhappily, expecting another verbal lashing.
Instead, Spock just looked away, leaving Jim blinking stupidly at him.
“Spock?”
Color was slowly sneaking across Spock’s face, staining his ears and cheeks with green, and Jim suddenly realized what he was seeing. He almost leaped with excitement, before reminding himself that such a display would be undignified for a captain.
Instead, he allowed a pleased smirk, and watched as Spock shifted uncomfortably.
“Captain -”
“Why Mr. Spock,” Jim interrupted softly, deliberately pitching his voice to his most seductive, “I didn’t know you cared.”
The flush became a darker shade of green, and Jim felt a sudden twinge of true arousal, heat curling pleasantly in his stomach. Although this wasn’t the first time his body had expressed interest in Spock’s pointed ears, it was the first time Spock had reciprocated anything, and Jim was started by how much of a turn-on that was.
Before he could say anything else, Spock met Jim’s gaze, his dark eyes completely shuttered.
“I do not care, Captain,” he said, his tone colder than it had been in weeks, but Jim couldn’t quite believe him. “My only concern is removing us from this prison. I suggest that you focus on the same objective.”
Jim blinked at him, wondering how Spock had managed to turn a poignant sexual moment into a subtle insult.
“That guard is our main concern. Once he is dispatched of, we can concentrate on the rest of this prison’s defences.”
Spock was completely impassive again, and Jim sighed, feeling his libido become nothing more than a feeble twitch - not a pleasant sensation, but not surprising, considering that he was now thinking of Ugly Jaw.
It’s alright, he reassured his body, resisting the urge to soothingly stroke his own arms. Those strings of blue saliva would be a turn off for anyone.
After all, Jim was rather fond of the relationship he had with his libido, and he didn’t want his body to get the wrong idea.
“Captain.”
For someone who claimed to control his emotions, Spock was plain terrible at concealing irritation - his voice sounded like he’d been chewing on rocks. “Any brilliant ideas, or shall I do all the thinking?”
Jim glared at him. “Oh, ouch,” he countered coolly, noting with surprise that the words actually hurt - did Spock really think he was just fooling around? “How nasty of you. Such a human comment.”
“There is no need for insults, Captain.”
“Hypocrite.”
Spock closed his eyes for a moment, as though wondering what deity he had aggravated to deserve a place in Jim’s life, and Jim allowed a small smirk.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to die here.”
Ignoring Spock’s dubious look, Jim dropped to his knees - wishing he was doing so under more interesting circumstances - and examined one of the hinges holding the door to the wall. He’d noticed earlier that it was rusted, and he smirked at this success, not at all surprised. These guys were primitive and careless - only sheer numbers and the advantage of surprise had gotten him and Spock caught in the first place.
“Think you can pull this door off the wall?”
The eyebrows almost disappeared again, but Spock seemed slightly amused, in his own prickly Spock way. “I believe you over-estimate my abilities, Captain. I am a Vulcan, not a machine.”
“And here I thought they were the same thing,” Jim muttered quietly, still surveying the hinge.
“Hardly, Captain.”
Jim sighed with annoyance, cursing the oversensitivity of Vulcan ears. “If I can get rid of one hinge, would you be able to yank the door?”
“There would be an improved likelihood of 56.7%.”
“Good,” Jim grunted, already banging at the hinge with the flat of his palm. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge, and he surveyed the grungy dirt floor. “Find me a rock or something, would you?”
Spock began to search, and Jim returned his attention the door. This place is ridiculous, he thought, banging half-heartedly at the hinge. Dirt floors and everything. How have these aliens missed out on anything resembling intelligent evolution?
“Allow me.”
Spock was kneeling beside him, rock in hand. Reluctantly, Jim moved to the side, keeping his expression blank as Spock easily smashed the rusted hinge to pieces.
“I would have gotten it,” Jim muttered, grudgingly impressed, and completely unwilling to show it. “You don’t have to be such a show-off.”
Spock didn’t quite sigh, but it was a close thing. “If you would step away, Captain, I shall attempt -”
“Shhh!” Jim cut him off, scurrying to his feet, and tugging on Spock’s arm. “Get up here -”
Spock was already standing, the rock still in his hand. “From the sound of their footsteps, I believe that three guards approach, Captain,” he said tonelessly. “Undoubtedly, the door will tilt slightly when they open -”
“I know that,” Jim hissed, glancing around for a new idea. Adrenaline made itself known, and Jim distantly took a moment to appreciate the sensation, feeling every inch of his skin come to life. “One of us on each side of the door - watch out for those teeth. You take the two henchmen, I’ll deal with our drooling friend.”
Spock handed him the rock, and Jim didn’t argue, pressing himself against the front wall of the prison. Spock did the same, and Jim took a moment to appreciate the advantages of working with someone several times as strong as him.
There was a click as the door unlocked; it pushed forward, opening crookedly. Following a sound of displeasure from outside their cell, all three guards rushed in, Ugly Jaw’s club in the air.
Using all the strength he had, Jim leaped forward and slammed the rock into Ugly Jaw’s hand. He barely had time to dodge the club that came back his way, ominously aimed at his head.
Jumping backwards, Jim stared in shock.
Ugly Jaw hadn’t even flinched.
Their guard grinned widely, beckoning him closer, and Jim desperately tried to formulate a new plan. He could hear Spock struggling with the other two, but he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off that club.
“Quit now, will make easier for you.”
There was no hint of pain in the guard’s voice, and Jim cursed loudly, looking around for another weapon. His rock was still clutched in bruised fingers, but the aliens might as well have been made of stone themselves -
Jim needed that club.
One of the other guards slammed into Ugly Jaw, stumbling from the impact of Spock’s fist. As Ugly Jaw shoved him off, barking something angry, Jim quickly moved in, doing what he’d wanted to do for hours.
Ugly Jaw may have been bigger, but Jim was faster. The rock smashed into Ugly Jaw’s open mouth, sending shards of teeth everywhere, and the damage to Jim’s hand was worth the sight of that mouth shattering, blood and saliva mixing for a satisfying combination.
Unfortunately, Jim’s joy was short-lived.
The howl that followed was very much inhuman, and Ugly Jaw came after him, shrieking like an injured animal. Before Jim could react, the club made contact with his right shoulder, and he let out a cry of his own, the rock falling from nerveless fingers.
Awkwardly scurrying to get away, knowing quite well what a dislocated shoulder felt like, Jim cursed again. There was nothing but mindless rage in Ugly Jaw’s eyes, and Jim clutched his arm to his body, distantly wondering if he’d just signed his own death sentence.
Death by club, he thought darkly, his eyes still fixed on the weapon, does not sound like a pleasant prospect.
Suddenly picturing himself and Spock smeared across the prison floor, their bones pounded into formless pulp, Jim hardened his resolve.
No fucking way.
Gritting his teeth together, Jim pushed the pain into a distant part of his brain, gathering strength from the pure loathing in Ugly Jaw’s eyes. “Come on,” Jim taunted, matching that hatred with his own, and making his tone as condescending as possible. “That the best you can do?”
The rock was on the ground by his feet, but he didn’t dare bend to get it, and the next few minutes involved trying to stay one step ahead of that club. Outmanoeuvring Ugly Jaw was exhausting and painful, and Jim knew that he couldn’t keep it up forever.
Panting and desperate, Jim had just decided to go for Ugly Jaw’s eyes when a second guard joined in the chase. Two against one was a foregone conclusion, and Jim found himself on the ground, his shoulder twisted most unpleasantly, pain radiating to every inch of his body.
“Fucking -” Jim struggled desperately, trying to throw them both off, but had no success. “Fucking fuckers -”
Ugly Jaw’s henchmen raised his fist menacingly over Jim’s mouth, the message perfectly clear, and Jim stopped talking, realizing how utterly screwed he was.
Fortunately, this guard wasn’t blinded by rage, and he managed to restrain Ugly Jaw from smashing Jim’s head in. He snarled out something Jim couldn’t understand - probably about wanting Jim alive - and Ugly Jaw let out an angry noise, but contented himself with using his fists.
When they finally let Jim go, dropping him to the dirt, he was barely conscious. Before leaving, Ugly Jaw made a point of stepping on Jim’s shoulder.
The pain was staggering, and Jim found himself gasping for air, unable to silence his agonized noises. “Fuck you,” he spat raggedly, as Ugly Jaw slowly increased the pressure, making a disgusting noise of pleasure. “Fuck you, you fucking -”
Ugly Jaw slammed his foot onto Jim’s shoulder, bringing his entire weight down, and Jim cut himself off with something close to a scream. He struggled desperately, panic and pain making him frantic, but Ugly Jaw wouldn’t move.
“This was a stupid idea.”
Distantly, Jim could hear himself yelling, but he could do nothing to make himself stop. When Ugly Jaw finally stepped away, blackness was licking at Jim’s vision, and he could no longer find any pleasure in that broken mouth.
“Very stupid.”
The door slammed shut behind him, with one alien remaining to stand guard. Struggling to find air, barely clinging to consciousness, Jim curled up in a ball, tears streaming down his face.
“Fuck,” he gasped helplessly, unable to remember the last time he’d been in this much pain. “Fucking, fuck, fuckers - ”
“Captain.”
Spock’s voice was barely audible, but it cut through Jim’s haze of pain, and he forced himself to raise his head. Curled up on the other side of the cell, Spock looked to be nothing more than a green mess.
“Spock,” he rasped, still unable to move. “Are you alright?”
There was no response, and Jim groaned, forcing his aching body into action. “Give m-me a second,” he managed, pulling himself awkwardly to his knees. “I’ll crawl over.”
He heard a grunt in response, before Spock also tried to move, pulling himself forward slightly. Jim’s pain finally lessened enough to allow him some movement, and they met halfway, curling up beside each other in the middle of the cell.
Imagining that the pain didn’t exist, pushing it as far away as possible, Jim ground his teeth together. He carefully rolled to his left side, wanting to survey Spock’s injuries, only to find Spock doing the same.
They both froze, then stared at each other, before trying to speak.
“I was going to look you over -”
“-you need to be examined, Captain.”
Spock blinked in obvious surprise, and Jim couldn’t stop a grin, though it split his lips even further open.
“I think you and I are good for each other, Mr. Spock.”
Although Spock said nothing, his lips twitched slightly in response, and Jim actually laughed, unable to care that the movement sent pain straight to his toes. There was unexpected warmth travelling throughout his body, and he took a moment to enjoy it, surprised by how much he suddenly liked the idea of them taking care of each other.
“You realize we’re bonding in the face of almost certain death, right?”
Although Jim was able to find some dark humour in the thought, Spock didn’t seem to. Perhaps realizing how much emotion he was showing, Spock visibly steadied himself, and his suddenly clinical gaze shifted to Jim’s shoulder. “Captain, if you would please lie back -”
“You first,” Jim interrupted. “You have a better chance of getting out of here than I do.”
“Captain -”
“Spock, that’s an order -”
“Captain,” Spock said firmly, unceremoniously cutting him off. “It is unlikely that I shall be leaving here.”
“If you’re already giving up -”
Spock shook his head and tried to speak again, but his face twisted slightly, as though the pain he was hiding finally managed to slip through. Jim stopped a growl, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“There’ll be none of that, alright? We’re both getting out -“
“Jim, please.” Spock’s voice was quiet, but with a hint of steel hiding underneath. “Both of my legs are broken, and you cannot carry me. If you have a chance for escape, I ask you to not hesitate.”
The fury that rose through Jim’s body almost choked him, though he wasn’t sure who he was more angry with - Spock, or the guards who had done this to him. Spock’s eyebrows registered obvious surprise, but Jim couldn’t be bothered to censor himself.
“I’ll kill them,” he swore fervently, barely hearing his voice over the ringing in his ears. “I’ll rip them apart.”
“My injuries are hardly worse than yours. There is no need for such a reaction.”
“Oh yeah?” Irrepressible anger was simmering along Jim’s veins, making him careless. “What about you, then? Do you really think I would leave you here?”
“If the choice is between your escape and mine -”
“There won’t be a choice, Spock,” Jim snapped, finally losing his cool, and Spock looked away. “I owe my life to you, more times than I care to count, so stop playing the fucking martyr and use that pretty head of yours to get us out of here - both of us, mind you, and that’s an order.”
Jim stopped talking, realizing that Spock still wasn’t looking at him.
“Spock, are you even listening? I want acknowledgement. You understand that we’re leaving together?”
There was silence for a long moment, and Jim abruptly wondered if Spock had ever had anything even resembling a friend, someone who actually cared about him - and what did Vulcans really think they were gaining by turning their children into robots, anyway?
When Spock finally spoke, his voice was completely toneless, and he was still studying the ground.
“Captain, if you continue to over-exert yourself, you may make your injuries worse.”
Jim stared at him in disbelief, taking in the not-so-subtle conversation change, and finally figured out why Spock couldn’t even look at him. “You can’t deal with someone else caring about you, can you?”
There was no answer, and Jim abruptly realized that he was pushing way too hard.
“Shit, sorry, I’ll can it for now, alright?” Spock was still looking away, but he nodded slowly in response, and Jim tried to backtrack, not wanting to scare him off. “We can talk later, when we’re out of here. For now, though - are you able to re-set my arm?”
They were seven of Jim’s least favourite words, but they resulted in a complete conversation shift, which was just what he wanted. Spock still seemed uncomfortable, though, and was studying Jim’s shoulder with clinical detachment.
“I dare not make an attempt, Captain. I do not have the full strength of my body, and I do not know how much damage that guard has done.”
“Then we’re both out of commission?” Jim could hear the incredulity in his own voice. “Neither of us good in a fight?”
Spock didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.
“Jeez,” Jim breathed unhappily, unable to believe that they had gotten themselves into this situation. “This really sucks.”
“Indeed.”
Hearing the well-hidden unhappiness that Spock claimed not to possess, Jim aimed for a more hopeful tone, trying to undo the damage from his far-too-emotional outburst. “It’s alright,” he said lightly, managing a small smile. “We’ll just have to hang on ‘til my baby gets here.”
“Jim, we both know that the Enterprise will not return for another thirty-six hours.”
There was a strange tone to Spock’s voice, and something unpleasant twisted in Jim’s chest. While he was already quite aware that they were alone, hearing it said aloud made the situation more real.
“I know,” he said softly, wishing he was able to argue. “Believe me, I know. We’ll just have to come up with something else until then.”
Seeming to get some of his normal Vulcan spark back, Spock raised his eyebrows. “You have a plan?”
“Yeah,” Jim said, wincing as he shifted on the hard ground. “Don’t die here.”
Given that the circumstances were beyond his control, Jim’s words were rather empty, but Spock was suddenly regarding him with something close to admiration, and Jim found he couldn’t deal with it. Not now, when they were in such a mess, and Jim had nothing but his quick wit to get them free.
A little unnerved, he tried to make himself sound more like a captain. “Alright, Spock, lie back. I want to take a look at the rest of you.”
It was a bad sign that Spock didn’t argue.
Jim sighed unhappily and sat up as straight as he could, wishing he had anything that even remotely resembled medical supplies. They had to get themselves back together, as much as possible, so they could get free from this place.
“How’s the pain?”
“Vulcans are able to control pain, Captain.”
“Sure you can,” Jim muttered, his fingers sliding across Spock’s ripped shirt, coming away stained with green. Spock’s breath hitched just slightly, and Jim sighed again, realizing he was completely unable to do anything helpful.
Come on brain, he thought desperately, you’ve never let me down before. Give me an escape plan, so I can get us the fuck out of here
- - -
Part Two - http://twisting-vine-x.livejournal.com/130738.html#cutid1.
Paring: Jim/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Some nasty violence, angst, and cursing - they are in prison, after all.
Summary: Having come into the Star Trek fandom several decades late, my brain seems to want to work through a series of clichés... ergo, I bring you Jim and Spock in prison.
- - -
Jim was seriously considering calling it Planet Dumbfuck, in honour of the embarrassingly stupid society they had discovered.
The aliens were big and mean, with primitive clubs and nasty voices, and they didn’t seem to have much going on between their ears. Unfortunately, with strength coming in the form of numbers, their impressive levels of stupidity hadn’t stopped them from capturing Spock and Kirk.
Their guard grinned - far too many pointed teeth, with strings of blue saliva - and Jim fought the urge to gag, reminding himself that he had more important concerns.
Keeping a cautious distance between them, he surveyed the alien, wondering if he and Spock could take him. When the guard responded with an unimpressed glare, shifting ominously on his feet, Jim quickly dismissed the idea. Their jailor - while not particularly bright - was larger than either of them, and was cradling a menacing club. If there was going to be any fighting, it would have to be a sneak attack.
“My ship can blow this base to smithereens, you know.”
Bravado and bluster - Jim’s trademark escape methods, and two of Spock’s least favourite characteristics. Jim could practically feel Spock’s sudden irritation, and he concentrated on stopping a smile. Even under these circumstances, nothing was more fun than annoying Spock.
“And really,” Jim continued, trying to keep his eyes away from that nauseating mouth, “It would be better for you if you let us go before my crew gets here. Things could get messy if - ”
Jim’s train of thought derailed as their guard’s grin widened, teeth actually cutting into his own lips. Spock shot Jim an angry glare, silently cautioning him, but Jim could hardly find it in him to care.
“Captain.”
Jim didn’t hear him, too busy wondering how to fix that horrible mouth, the sight of which was actually causing him pain. Man, he thought, torn between pity and disgust. This guy needs a whole new face.
“You not go anywhere.” Their guard was gurgling happily, practically rubbing his hands together, and Jim tried to pay attention, reminding himself that a Starfleet captain couldn’t be bothered by alien drool. “You my new toys.”
Their guard looked like he was choking on poisoned candy floss - and loving every minute of it - and Jim found himself thoroughly disgusted. He began to retort, not liking the glee in the alien’s voice, but a wayward drop of saliva effectively ended his words.
It fell to the ground, where it bubbled quietly, and Jim stared at it in horror, finally losing the battle with himself. Even Spock’s cautionary glance couldn’t stop him.
“Your mother,” he started casually, talking a step backwards and nodding at the pile on the ground, “She never taught you how to use a toothbrush?”
Beside him, Spock muttered something unhappy. For some reason, it just made the situation funnier, and Jim quickly stopped a grin, knowing it would be maniacal.
“And ya know,” he continued loudly, getting into the swing of things as the smirk left Ugly Jaw’s face, “Maybe a dentist could shave those down a bit, and get rid of the stench -”
A painful fist was his only response, and Jim hit the wall with a nasty crunch. The blow had connected with his jaw, making him see stars, and he had to concentrate on breathing for a second, imagining all the nasty things he could do to Ugly Jaw once they escaped.
“Captain,” Spock started, raising an unimpressed eyebrow, as though Jim had deserved what he’d gotten. “You -”
“Shud up, Spock,” Jim muttered thickly in response, wondering how he got himself into these situations. Bringing a hand to his mouth, and trying to talk around his tongue, he checked for damage, happy to find his teeth in their rightful positions. “I think I bit my thongue.”
Spock sighed and stopped talking, carefully placing his hands behind his back. Jim staggered to his feet, fighting the urge to make another dentist joke - there would undoubtedly be retaliation, and grinning through broken teeth would kill some of the humour.
Instead, he spit blood and swallowed hard, immediately finding it easier to talk. “Why don’t you let me out, so we can have a real fight? Just you and me?”
Jim thought it was a good attempt, but Ugly Jaw seemed far from convinced. He barked something menacing, before turning and walking away, and Jim had a sudden sense of foreboding.
“Shit,” he muttered.
It wasn’t a nice sensation, and it left a nasty taste in Jim’s mouth, reminding him of how much he hated being confined. To counteract the feeling of impending doom, he imagined Ugly Jaw smeared across a pile of his own blue guck, broken teeth everywhere.
Jim laughed quietly, unable to stop himself, and Spock visibly twitched with annoyance. “Captain,” he began, the strain evident in his voice, “Must you always antagonize -”
“I wasn’t,” Jim snapped suddenly, the humour abruptly leaving him - and trust Spock to ruin a perfectly good murder fantasy. “I needed to know if I could take him, when the time comes.”
It was the truth, but Spock’s eyebrows almost disappeared into those immaculately kept bangs. “I see you retain your ability for falsehoods, Captain.”
Jim glared at him, wondering how he’d gotten stuck with a first officer who took pleasure in Jim’s pain. Spock simply smirked without moving his face, and Jim felt a surge of annoyance. “Bastard,” he muttered, but Spock just titled his head slightly, and said nothing.
Thoroughly irritated, Jim returned his gaze to the blue blob, which was still bubbling unpleasantly. “Man,” he muttered absently, feeling his stomach roll. “It’s good I’ve had plenty of practice controlling my gag reflex.”
Jim spoke without thinking, then sighed unhappily, expecting another verbal lashing.
Instead, Spock just looked away, leaving Jim blinking stupidly at him.
“Spock?”
Color was slowly sneaking across Spock’s face, staining his ears and cheeks with green, and Jim suddenly realized what he was seeing. He almost leaped with excitement, before reminding himself that such a display would be undignified for a captain.
Instead, he allowed a pleased smirk, and watched as Spock shifted uncomfortably.
“Captain -”
“Why Mr. Spock,” Jim interrupted softly, deliberately pitching his voice to his most seductive, “I didn’t know you cared.”
The flush became a darker shade of green, and Jim felt a sudden twinge of true arousal, heat curling pleasantly in his stomach. Although this wasn’t the first time his body had expressed interest in Spock’s pointed ears, it was the first time Spock had reciprocated anything, and Jim was started by how much of a turn-on that was.
Before he could say anything else, Spock met Jim’s gaze, his dark eyes completely shuttered.
“I do not care, Captain,” he said, his tone colder than it had been in weeks, but Jim couldn’t quite believe him. “My only concern is removing us from this prison. I suggest that you focus on the same objective.”
Jim blinked at him, wondering how Spock had managed to turn a poignant sexual moment into a subtle insult.
“That guard is our main concern. Once he is dispatched of, we can concentrate on the rest of this prison’s defences.”
Spock was completely impassive again, and Jim sighed, feeling his libido become nothing more than a feeble twitch - not a pleasant sensation, but not surprising, considering that he was now thinking of Ugly Jaw.
It’s alright, he reassured his body, resisting the urge to soothingly stroke his own arms. Those strings of blue saliva would be a turn off for anyone.
After all, Jim was rather fond of the relationship he had with his libido, and he didn’t want his body to get the wrong idea.
“Captain.”
For someone who claimed to control his emotions, Spock was plain terrible at concealing irritation - his voice sounded like he’d been chewing on rocks. “Any brilliant ideas, or shall I do all the thinking?”
Jim glared at him. “Oh, ouch,” he countered coolly, noting with surprise that the words actually hurt - did Spock really think he was just fooling around? “How nasty of you. Such a human comment.”
“There is no need for insults, Captain.”
“Hypocrite.”
Spock closed his eyes for a moment, as though wondering what deity he had aggravated to deserve a place in Jim’s life, and Jim allowed a small smirk.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to die here.”
Ignoring Spock’s dubious look, Jim dropped to his knees - wishing he was doing so under more interesting circumstances - and examined one of the hinges holding the door to the wall. He’d noticed earlier that it was rusted, and he smirked at this success, not at all surprised. These guys were primitive and careless - only sheer numbers and the advantage of surprise had gotten him and Spock caught in the first place.
“Think you can pull this door off the wall?”
The eyebrows almost disappeared again, but Spock seemed slightly amused, in his own prickly Spock way. “I believe you over-estimate my abilities, Captain. I am a Vulcan, not a machine.”
“And here I thought they were the same thing,” Jim muttered quietly, still surveying the hinge.
“Hardly, Captain.”
Jim sighed with annoyance, cursing the oversensitivity of Vulcan ears. “If I can get rid of one hinge, would you be able to yank the door?”
“There would be an improved likelihood of 56.7%.”
“Good,” Jim grunted, already banging at the hinge with the flat of his palm. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t budge, and he surveyed the grungy dirt floor. “Find me a rock or something, would you?”
Spock began to search, and Jim returned his attention the door. This place is ridiculous, he thought, banging half-heartedly at the hinge. Dirt floors and everything. How have these aliens missed out on anything resembling intelligent evolution?
“Allow me.”
Spock was kneeling beside him, rock in hand. Reluctantly, Jim moved to the side, keeping his expression blank as Spock easily smashed the rusted hinge to pieces.
“I would have gotten it,” Jim muttered, grudgingly impressed, and completely unwilling to show it. “You don’t have to be such a show-off.”
Spock didn’t quite sigh, but it was a close thing. “If you would step away, Captain, I shall attempt -”
“Shhh!” Jim cut him off, scurrying to his feet, and tugging on Spock’s arm. “Get up here -”
Spock was already standing, the rock still in his hand. “From the sound of their footsteps, I believe that three guards approach, Captain,” he said tonelessly. “Undoubtedly, the door will tilt slightly when they open -”
“I know that,” Jim hissed, glancing around for a new idea. Adrenaline made itself known, and Jim distantly took a moment to appreciate the sensation, feeling every inch of his skin come to life. “One of us on each side of the door - watch out for those teeth. You take the two henchmen, I’ll deal with our drooling friend.”
Spock handed him the rock, and Jim didn’t argue, pressing himself against the front wall of the prison. Spock did the same, and Jim took a moment to appreciate the advantages of working with someone several times as strong as him.
There was a click as the door unlocked; it pushed forward, opening crookedly. Following a sound of displeasure from outside their cell, all three guards rushed in, Ugly Jaw’s club in the air.
Using all the strength he had, Jim leaped forward and slammed the rock into Ugly Jaw’s hand. He barely had time to dodge the club that came back his way, ominously aimed at his head.
Jumping backwards, Jim stared in shock.
Ugly Jaw hadn’t even flinched.
Their guard grinned widely, beckoning him closer, and Jim desperately tried to formulate a new plan. He could hear Spock struggling with the other two, but he couldn’t risk taking his eyes off that club.
“Quit now, will make easier for you.”
There was no hint of pain in the guard’s voice, and Jim cursed loudly, looking around for another weapon. His rock was still clutched in bruised fingers, but the aliens might as well have been made of stone themselves -
Jim needed that club.
One of the other guards slammed into Ugly Jaw, stumbling from the impact of Spock’s fist. As Ugly Jaw shoved him off, barking something angry, Jim quickly moved in, doing what he’d wanted to do for hours.
Ugly Jaw may have been bigger, but Jim was faster. The rock smashed into Ugly Jaw’s open mouth, sending shards of teeth everywhere, and the damage to Jim’s hand was worth the sight of that mouth shattering, blood and saliva mixing for a satisfying combination.
Unfortunately, Jim’s joy was short-lived.
The howl that followed was very much inhuman, and Ugly Jaw came after him, shrieking like an injured animal. Before Jim could react, the club made contact with his right shoulder, and he let out a cry of his own, the rock falling from nerveless fingers.
Awkwardly scurrying to get away, knowing quite well what a dislocated shoulder felt like, Jim cursed again. There was nothing but mindless rage in Ugly Jaw’s eyes, and Jim clutched his arm to his body, distantly wondering if he’d just signed his own death sentence.
Death by club, he thought darkly, his eyes still fixed on the weapon, does not sound like a pleasant prospect.
Suddenly picturing himself and Spock smeared across the prison floor, their bones pounded into formless pulp, Jim hardened his resolve.
No fucking way.
Gritting his teeth together, Jim pushed the pain into a distant part of his brain, gathering strength from the pure loathing in Ugly Jaw’s eyes. “Come on,” Jim taunted, matching that hatred with his own, and making his tone as condescending as possible. “That the best you can do?”
The rock was on the ground by his feet, but he didn’t dare bend to get it, and the next few minutes involved trying to stay one step ahead of that club. Outmanoeuvring Ugly Jaw was exhausting and painful, and Jim knew that he couldn’t keep it up forever.
Panting and desperate, Jim had just decided to go for Ugly Jaw’s eyes when a second guard joined in the chase. Two against one was a foregone conclusion, and Jim found himself on the ground, his shoulder twisted most unpleasantly, pain radiating to every inch of his body.
“Fucking -” Jim struggled desperately, trying to throw them both off, but had no success. “Fucking fuckers -”
Ugly Jaw’s henchmen raised his fist menacingly over Jim’s mouth, the message perfectly clear, and Jim stopped talking, realizing how utterly screwed he was.
Fortunately, this guard wasn’t blinded by rage, and he managed to restrain Ugly Jaw from smashing Jim’s head in. He snarled out something Jim couldn’t understand - probably about wanting Jim alive - and Ugly Jaw let out an angry noise, but contented himself with using his fists.
When they finally let Jim go, dropping him to the dirt, he was barely conscious. Before leaving, Ugly Jaw made a point of stepping on Jim’s shoulder.
The pain was staggering, and Jim found himself gasping for air, unable to silence his agonized noises. “Fuck you,” he spat raggedly, as Ugly Jaw slowly increased the pressure, making a disgusting noise of pleasure. “Fuck you, you fucking -”
Ugly Jaw slammed his foot onto Jim’s shoulder, bringing his entire weight down, and Jim cut himself off with something close to a scream. He struggled desperately, panic and pain making him frantic, but Ugly Jaw wouldn’t move.
“This was a stupid idea.”
Distantly, Jim could hear himself yelling, but he could do nothing to make himself stop. When Ugly Jaw finally stepped away, blackness was licking at Jim’s vision, and he could no longer find any pleasure in that broken mouth.
“Very stupid.”
The door slammed shut behind him, with one alien remaining to stand guard. Struggling to find air, barely clinging to consciousness, Jim curled up in a ball, tears streaming down his face.
“Fuck,” he gasped helplessly, unable to remember the last time he’d been in this much pain. “Fucking, fuck, fuckers - ”
“Captain.”
Spock’s voice was barely audible, but it cut through Jim’s haze of pain, and he forced himself to raise his head. Curled up on the other side of the cell, Spock looked to be nothing more than a green mess.
“Spock,” he rasped, still unable to move. “Are you alright?”
There was no response, and Jim groaned, forcing his aching body into action. “Give m-me a second,” he managed, pulling himself awkwardly to his knees. “I’ll crawl over.”
He heard a grunt in response, before Spock also tried to move, pulling himself forward slightly. Jim’s pain finally lessened enough to allow him some movement, and they met halfway, curling up beside each other in the middle of the cell.
Imagining that the pain didn’t exist, pushing it as far away as possible, Jim ground his teeth together. He carefully rolled to his left side, wanting to survey Spock’s injuries, only to find Spock doing the same.
They both froze, then stared at each other, before trying to speak.
“I was going to look you over -”
“-you need to be examined, Captain.”
Spock blinked in obvious surprise, and Jim couldn’t stop a grin, though it split his lips even further open.
“I think you and I are good for each other, Mr. Spock.”
Although Spock said nothing, his lips twitched slightly in response, and Jim actually laughed, unable to care that the movement sent pain straight to his toes. There was unexpected warmth travelling throughout his body, and he took a moment to enjoy it, surprised by how much he suddenly liked the idea of them taking care of each other.
“You realize we’re bonding in the face of almost certain death, right?”
Although Jim was able to find some dark humour in the thought, Spock didn’t seem to. Perhaps realizing how much emotion he was showing, Spock visibly steadied himself, and his suddenly clinical gaze shifted to Jim’s shoulder. “Captain, if you would please lie back -”
“You first,” Jim interrupted. “You have a better chance of getting out of here than I do.”
“Captain -”
“Spock, that’s an order -”
“Captain,” Spock said firmly, unceremoniously cutting him off. “It is unlikely that I shall be leaving here.”
“If you’re already giving up -”
Spock shook his head and tried to speak again, but his face twisted slightly, as though the pain he was hiding finally managed to slip through. Jim stopped a growl, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“There’ll be none of that, alright? We’re both getting out -“
“Jim, please.” Spock’s voice was quiet, but with a hint of steel hiding underneath. “Both of my legs are broken, and you cannot carry me. If you have a chance for escape, I ask you to not hesitate.”
The fury that rose through Jim’s body almost choked him, though he wasn’t sure who he was more angry with - Spock, or the guards who had done this to him. Spock’s eyebrows registered obvious surprise, but Jim couldn’t be bothered to censor himself.
“I’ll kill them,” he swore fervently, barely hearing his voice over the ringing in his ears. “I’ll rip them apart.”
“My injuries are hardly worse than yours. There is no need for such a reaction.”
“Oh yeah?” Irrepressible anger was simmering along Jim’s veins, making him careless. “What about you, then? Do you really think I would leave you here?”
“If the choice is between your escape and mine -”
“There won’t be a choice, Spock,” Jim snapped, finally losing his cool, and Spock looked away. “I owe my life to you, more times than I care to count, so stop playing the fucking martyr and use that pretty head of yours to get us out of here - both of us, mind you, and that’s an order.”
Jim stopped talking, realizing that Spock still wasn’t looking at him.
“Spock, are you even listening? I want acknowledgement. You understand that we’re leaving together?”
There was silence for a long moment, and Jim abruptly wondered if Spock had ever had anything even resembling a friend, someone who actually cared about him - and what did Vulcans really think they were gaining by turning their children into robots, anyway?
When Spock finally spoke, his voice was completely toneless, and he was still studying the ground.
“Captain, if you continue to over-exert yourself, you may make your injuries worse.”
Jim stared at him in disbelief, taking in the not-so-subtle conversation change, and finally figured out why Spock couldn’t even look at him. “You can’t deal with someone else caring about you, can you?”
There was no answer, and Jim abruptly realized that he was pushing way too hard.
“Shit, sorry, I’ll can it for now, alright?” Spock was still looking away, but he nodded slowly in response, and Jim tried to backtrack, not wanting to scare him off. “We can talk later, when we’re out of here. For now, though - are you able to re-set my arm?”
They were seven of Jim’s least favourite words, but they resulted in a complete conversation shift, which was just what he wanted. Spock still seemed uncomfortable, though, and was studying Jim’s shoulder with clinical detachment.
“I dare not make an attempt, Captain. I do not have the full strength of my body, and I do not know how much damage that guard has done.”
“Then we’re both out of commission?” Jim could hear the incredulity in his own voice. “Neither of us good in a fight?”
Spock didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.
“Jeez,” Jim breathed unhappily, unable to believe that they had gotten themselves into this situation. “This really sucks.”
“Indeed.”
Hearing the well-hidden unhappiness that Spock claimed not to possess, Jim aimed for a more hopeful tone, trying to undo the damage from his far-too-emotional outburst. “It’s alright,” he said lightly, managing a small smile. “We’ll just have to hang on ‘til my baby gets here.”
“Jim, we both know that the Enterprise will not return for another thirty-six hours.”
There was a strange tone to Spock’s voice, and something unpleasant twisted in Jim’s chest. While he was already quite aware that they were alone, hearing it said aloud made the situation more real.
“I know,” he said softly, wishing he was able to argue. “Believe me, I know. We’ll just have to come up with something else until then.”
Seeming to get some of his normal Vulcan spark back, Spock raised his eyebrows. “You have a plan?”
“Yeah,” Jim said, wincing as he shifted on the hard ground. “Don’t die here.”
Given that the circumstances were beyond his control, Jim’s words were rather empty, but Spock was suddenly regarding him with something close to admiration, and Jim found he couldn’t deal with it. Not now, when they were in such a mess, and Jim had nothing but his quick wit to get them free.
A little unnerved, he tried to make himself sound more like a captain. “Alright, Spock, lie back. I want to take a look at the rest of you.”
It was a bad sign that Spock didn’t argue.
Jim sighed unhappily and sat up as straight as he could, wishing he had anything that even remotely resembled medical supplies. They had to get themselves back together, as much as possible, so they could get free from this place.
“How’s the pain?”
“Vulcans are able to control pain, Captain.”
“Sure you can,” Jim muttered, his fingers sliding across Spock’s ripped shirt, coming away stained with green. Spock’s breath hitched just slightly, and Jim sighed again, realizing he was completely unable to do anything helpful.
Come on brain, he thought desperately, you’ve never let me down before. Give me an escape plan, so I can get us the fuck out of here
- - -
Part Two - http://twisting-vine-x.livejournal.com/130738.html#cutid1.