Star Trek XI -- "Out of Character"
written for ksvalentine 2011
prompt: Unbeknownst to most of the universe, Sarek made a big soppy deal out of Valentine's Day every year for Amanda, because he had some sort of convoluted reasoning that worked out to him feeling logically justified in participating in his bondmate's culturally and historically significant rituals as a gesture of respect for her background. In reality, it was the one day of the year he let himself outwardly show almost human levels of adoration for his wife, because he thought she deserved it even if he couldn't bring himself to do it all the time. As a result of this, a thoroughly unromantic Spock is absolutely determined to sweep Jim Kirk off his feet, because that is just what one does on Valentine's Day when one has a human partner. Jim is kind of shocked and terrified at first. Massive bonus points for a happy, schmoopy ending, and yet more points for a sexy one.
Out of Character | PG | 1033 words | complete
Jim Kirk has never been attached to Valentine’s Day. He’d been single almost all of his life, so his experience with the holiday generally consisted of picking up single girls and boys in bars and...comforting them. He’s always been community-spirited like that.
This year will only be slightly different, he’s pretty sure. Yeah, he’s not single this year, but Spock doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. And that’s fine, really--Jim’s just happy to have Spock at all, and they’re great together. He’s not a romantic, either. But sometimes...
So, it make perfect sense for him to be surprised when he’s woken up on Valentine’s Day, not by his alarm, but by a gentle kiss on his forehead. He opens his eyes to see Spock, dressed in one of his Vulcan robes, holding a tray containing two covered plates, two steaming mugs, and a small glass vase containing a single red rose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, ashayam,” Spock says.
Jim sits up quickly, and Spock places the tray in his lap before sitting down next to Jim’s feet. For a moment, Jim thinks he’s fallen through a rift in space-time or something, and come out in a completely different universe. Spock is smiling.
He’s also taking the covers off the two plates, revealing a fruit salad for himself and a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes for Jim. The pancakes, Jim notices a little hysterically, are heart-shaped.
“Are you well, Jim?” Spock says, reaching forward to take Jim’s hand. Another rare thing, even in the nine months they’ve been together. “Does this not please you?”
“No, ah...it’s fine, Spock,” Jim says. “Thank you.”
Spock nods, stroking his fingers over Jim’s and then letting go to begin eating his breakfast. “You must eat so that you will have adequate strength to perform at peak efficiency during the course of the day,” he says, and that sounds like the Spock Jim knows.
He mentally shrugs and starts into his own food. “Wow, this is really good,” he says, through a mouthful of pancake. “It’s not replicated, is it?”
“I was able to persuade the cooks to allow me thirty-two point six eight minutes in the galley before the breakfast shift,” Spock says.
“You made this?”
“Indeed,” Spock says. He puts down his own empty bowl. “I must oversee an experiment before the beginning of Alpha bridge shift.” He kisses Jim again, this time on the mouth. “Have a pleasant morning, Jim.”
Jim finishes his breakfast in slightly confused silence, then prepares for his shift. The corridors are decorated for the holiday, but everyone seems to be acting the way one might expect: exuberant, demonstrative, but that’s understandable. Even Spock is relatively normal--for Spock, anyway--when Jim gets to the bridge, though he does rest his hand on Jim’s shoulder when he comes over to give Jim status reports. It’s kind of weird, but it’s nice, too. Uhura is looking at them indulgently, so she must know something, but Jim can’t find a good excuse to go over and grill her for information.
Things take a turn for the surreal again when, about half an hour before the end of shift, a troop of botany ensigns appear, loaded down with bouquets of flowers, boxes of candy, and cards. They begin distributing them to the bridge crew, and Jim finds himself presented with a bouquet of Andorian roses so big he can’t actually see the person carrying it.
“Ah, go ahead and put that in my readyroom,” he says, plucking the card from the front. To Jim, From Spock, it says, which shouldn’t be surprising, but Jim still can’t quite fathom his stoic boyfriend and First Officer getting into the whole Valentine’s Day thing.
And it continues like that. They grab lunch together in the mess hall, and Spock presents him with a box of chocolate covered fruit from around the Federation, “all items that I have ascertained you are not allergic to.” Spock informs him that he has made plans for dinner, so Jim is expected to be back in their shared quarters at 1900 to eat it. Then Spock disappears off to his lab for Beta shift, and Jim is left in peace for a few hours.
Spock has redecorated their quarters, Jim discovers, dimming the lights and scattering candles around the room. The table they usually use for chess has been cleared, and is set with two plates, two champagne flutes, and a variety of small dishes. Spock smiles--actually smiles--when Jim steps into the room, and greets him with a long, passionate kiss. “Come,” he says when they separate for air, tangling his fingers in Jim’s. “It is time to eat.”
He leads Jim to the table, and pulls out the chair for him to sit down. There are no utensils on the table, Jim notices, and all the food is small, bite-sized pieces that he’s betting can be eating with one’s fingers. “Hold on a minute,” he says as Spock sits down. “I though Vulcans didn’t eat with their hands.”
“Normally, we do not,” Spock says. “But it is my understanding that the act of feeding food to one’s partner with one’s fingers is considered to be quite sensual, and I thought you and I might attempt it.”
Spock’s words sent a shiver down Jim’s spine, but he forced himself to focus. “What’s gotten into you today?”
Spock quirks one eyebrow. “It is Valentine’s Day,” he says simply, as if that explains everything.
“I would have thought a holiday devoted to love would be illogical,” Jim says.
“To the contrary,” Spock says. “It is perfectly logical to participate in my partner's culturally and historically significant rituals as a gesture of respect for his background. It is something my father would arrange for my mother every year on this date.”
Jim’s concern vanishes, replaced by pleasant, fizzy warmth. “Spock, you are the sweetest being in the universe,” he says. Spock looks like he’s going to protest, but Jim reaches out and takes his hand. “Dinner will keep. I’m taking you to bed.”
Jim notices, upon entering the bedroom, that the sheets on the bed are red.
Feedback is better than Valentine's Day chocolate.
prompt: Unbeknownst to most of the universe, Sarek made a big soppy deal out of Valentine's Day every year for Amanda, because he had some sort of convoluted reasoning that worked out to him feeling logically justified in participating in his bondmate's culturally and historically significant rituals as a gesture of respect for her background. In reality, it was the one day of the year he let himself outwardly show almost human levels of adoration for his wife, because he thought she deserved it even if he couldn't bring himself to do it all the time. As a result of this, a thoroughly unromantic Spock is absolutely determined to sweep Jim Kirk off his feet, because that is just what one does on Valentine's Day when one has a human partner. Jim is kind of shocked and terrified at first. Massive bonus points for a happy, schmoopy ending, and yet more points for a sexy one.
Out of Character | PG | 1033 words | complete
Jim Kirk has never been attached to Valentine’s Day. He’d been single almost all of his life, so his experience with the holiday generally consisted of picking up single girls and boys in bars and...comforting them. He’s always been community-spirited like that.
This year will only be slightly different, he’s pretty sure. Yeah, he’s not single this year, but Spock doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. And that’s fine, really--Jim’s just happy to have Spock at all, and they’re great together. He’s not a romantic, either. But sometimes...
So, it make perfect sense for him to be surprised when he’s woken up on Valentine’s Day, not by his alarm, but by a gentle kiss on his forehead. He opens his eyes to see Spock, dressed in one of his Vulcan robes, holding a tray containing two covered plates, two steaming mugs, and a small glass vase containing a single red rose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, ashayam,” Spock says.
Jim sits up quickly, and Spock places the tray in his lap before sitting down next to Jim’s feet. For a moment, Jim thinks he’s fallen through a rift in space-time or something, and come out in a completely different universe. Spock is smiling.
He’s also taking the covers off the two plates, revealing a fruit salad for himself and a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes for Jim. The pancakes, Jim notices a little hysterically, are heart-shaped.
“Are you well, Jim?” Spock says, reaching forward to take Jim’s hand. Another rare thing, even in the nine months they’ve been together. “Does this not please you?”
“No, ah...it’s fine, Spock,” Jim says. “Thank you.”
Spock nods, stroking his fingers over Jim’s and then letting go to begin eating his breakfast. “You must eat so that you will have adequate strength to perform at peak efficiency during the course of the day,” he says, and that sounds like the Spock Jim knows.
He mentally shrugs and starts into his own food. “Wow, this is really good,” he says, through a mouthful of pancake. “It’s not replicated, is it?”
“I was able to persuade the cooks to allow me thirty-two point six eight minutes in the galley before the breakfast shift,” Spock says.
“You made this?”
“Indeed,” Spock says. He puts down his own empty bowl. “I must oversee an experiment before the beginning of Alpha bridge shift.” He kisses Jim again, this time on the mouth. “Have a pleasant morning, Jim.”
Jim finishes his breakfast in slightly confused silence, then prepares for his shift. The corridors are decorated for the holiday, but everyone seems to be acting the way one might expect: exuberant, demonstrative, but that’s understandable. Even Spock is relatively normal--for Spock, anyway--when Jim gets to the bridge, though he does rest his hand on Jim’s shoulder when he comes over to give Jim status reports. It’s kind of weird, but it’s nice, too. Uhura is looking at them indulgently, so she must know something, but Jim can’t find a good excuse to go over and grill her for information.
Things take a turn for the surreal again when, about half an hour before the end of shift, a troop of botany ensigns appear, loaded down with bouquets of flowers, boxes of candy, and cards. They begin distributing them to the bridge crew, and Jim finds himself presented with a bouquet of Andorian roses so big he can’t actually see the person carrying it.
“Ah, go ahead and put that in my readyroom,” he says, plucking the card from the front. To Jim, From Spock, it says, which shouldn’t be surprising, but Jim still can’t quite fathom his stoic boyfriend and First Officer getting into the whole Valentine’s Day thing.
And it continues like that. They grab lunch together in the mess hall, and Spock presents him with a box of chocolate covered fruit from around the Federation, “all items that I have ascertained you are not allergic to.” Spock informs him that he has made plans for dinner, so Jim is expected to be back in their shared quarters at 1900 to eat it. Then Spock disappears off to his lab for Beta shift, and Jim is left in peace for a few hours.
Spock has redecorated their quarters, Jim discovers, dimming the lights and scattering candles around the room. The table they usually use for chess has been cleared, and is set with two plates, two champagne flutes, and a variety of small dishes. Spock smiles--actually smiles--when Jim steps into the room, and greets him with a long, passionate kiss. “Come,” he says when they separate for air, tangling his fingers in Jim’s. “It is time to eat.”
He leads Jim to the table, and pulls out the chair for him to sit down. There are no utensils on the table, Jim notices, and all the food is small, bite-sized pieces that he’s betting can be eating with one’s fingers. “Hold on a minute,” he says as Spock sits down. “I though Vulcans didn’t eat with their hands.”
“Normally, we do not,” Spock says. “But it is my understanding that the act of feeding food to one’s partner with one’s fingers is considered to be quite sensual, and I thought you and I might attempt it.”
Spock’s words sent a shiver down Jim’s spine, but he forced himself to focus. “What’s gotten into you today?”
Spock quirks one eyebrow. “It is Valentine’s Day,” he says simply, as if that explains everything.
“I would have thought a holiday devoted to love would be illogical,” Jim says.
“To the contrary,” Spock says. “It is perfectly logical to participate in my partner's culturally and historically significant rituals as a gesture of respect for his background. It is something my father would arrange for my mother every year on this date.”
Jim’s concern vanishes, replaced by pleasant, fizzy warmth. “Spock, you are the sweetest being in the universe,” he says. Spock looks like he’s going to protest, but Jim reaches out and takes his hand. “Dinner will keep. I’m taking you to bed.”
Jim notices, upon entering the bedroom, that the sheets on the bed are red.
Feedback is better than Valentine's Day chocolate.