![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1lostoneTitle: If You Can’t Be With The One You Love, Honey…
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: Erm idek. Probably longish. 3524/???
Paring: K/S (Background Uhura/Bones)
Warnings: This chapter: author's use of Klingon. *shudders* My apologies to the entire fandom.
Summary: Spock has a… not all together logical reaction to Captain Kirk’s constant disregard for his own safety on away missions.
Beta: The amazing![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=1)
jademac2442 . I mean it guys. You should see what this looks like before she gets her hands on it! ♥♥♥
A/N: Thanks tojademac2442 and jlm121 for cheerleading and letting me bounce ideas off of their heads. This process was occasionally painful.
Chapter 1:
The Observation deck was quiet. It was actually one of Jim’s favorite parts of his ship. It was smaller than the main observation decks, and out of the way from most of the foot traffic, given that it wasn’t near any of the main areas of the ship. Jim liked to see the stars flying by. Maybe it made him sentimental, but whenever he could look out into the black, it just calmed him down. It made him feel connected with his parents in a way that he’d never gotten to experience.
The lights were dim enough that the faint glow from his PADD could be seen in the reflection of the transparent aluminum that separated him from the stars.
Bones had been right. He’d been exhausted from the walk to his quarters. The shower hadn’t exactly been pleasant. It had taken him what felt like hours to strip and walk into the head. The shower had called to him. He’d had to forgo the water that he usually used, and switch to sonics instead. He’d been ready to drop.
Perversely, he’d refused to do so, knowing that somewhere Bones would somehow know that he was too tired and pounce on him. His muscles twinged at weird times, and Jim knew it would be smart for him to just go to bed. He should go to bed. He wanted to go to bed. Jim had made it to tossing his towel near the recycler before he made himself stop. It was no use. He couldn’t stop worrying over the last mission. It wasn’t that he’d never lost a member of his crew before. It wasn’t even the fact that he felt like the Klingons had fucked him over without even a kiss hello.
Now, sitting in his favorite chair, PADD resting on his knees, Jim couldn’t help but look out, eyes focusing inward as he thought about the last few days. This melancholy introspection wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t seem to snap himself out of it. How was it possible that Starfleet hadn’t had any intelligence on Klingon movement in that area? Jim didn’t much like feeling like a sitting duck. He and Uhura... no Nyota had been left to twiddle their thumbs, stranded from their ship. Presumably, Spock had kept things running fine on the Enterprise. Obviously. Jim couldn’t imagine a situation where Spock wasn’t handling things with perfect ease. But why had things gone so wrong? How the hell had they ended up on that frozen iceball of shitfuckery? And what the hell about what happened in Sickbay? Jim sighed, doodling a little on his PADD as he thought. He blinked, staring down at his notes.
There were a lot of Goddamn questions, and not a lot of Goddamn answers.
If he known about the Klingons mucking about the area, then things might have gone differently. If Starfleet had fucking given him a glimmer of even the beginnings of a hint that things were not quite what they had seemed, then maybe....fuck. That seemed to be a trend of late. The flagship was sent into situation after situation designed to make Starfleet’s PR look good. After Nero, Jim and his crew of young, talented, genius (and let’s not forget gorgeous) personnel had made Starfleet look damn good.
Jim had known that his job as a captain would force him into playing politics. It went without saying.
But it really, really pissed him the fuck off when that sort of bullshit put his crew in danger.
Jim sighed again, looking down at the list of the deceased. Jim’s hand tightened around the stylus so tightly that bottom of it pressed into his hand. Exhaustion pulled at him, causing his eyes to sting. Ensign James, Lieutenant Harper and Ensign Geoffries. Good, hardworking people that had died in the line of duty. Uselessly. As a distraction. Because they had been determined as unnecessary.
Jim, two security officers, Nyota, and that young ensign that Nyota had been so proud of. The three of them were dead because Jim had needed them on the away team. Jim made a little note to make sure that he sat down and talked to Nyota. He could tell her until he was blue in the face that Ensign James’ death wasn’t her fault, but Jim knew she wouldn’t take the comfort.
The doors hissed open and Jim tensed a little, knowing that Spock was the only person who would come to find him. It had become his habit to find Jim after an away mission that went awry. If it had been anyone else, Jim would have thought that they were checking up on him.
“Captain.”
“Hey, Spock.” Jim straightened in his chair, ignoring the way the large muscles in his back twanged. “Have a seat.”
Spock did, sitting stiffly. The couch across from Jim was very comfortable, consisting mostly of fluffy pillows and cushions. Spock managed to look completely unmoved by its comfort. His back was painfully straight, his hands resting at precise angles on his leg, just above his knee. Jim looked at him from under his eyelashes before taking a minute to finish up his note to himself. Whatever Spock had to debrief him with was probably going to take awhile.
“What can I do for you?” Jim watched as Spock’s eyebrow raised slightly, the same familiar impassivity on his angular face.
He was silent for a moment, the silence between them stretching to slightly uncomfortable before speaking. “Nyota informed me that she retained few injuries from the away mission and that you acted selflessly in keeping her unharmed.”
Jim felt his face flush. Why is it that people constantly felt the need to thank him for things like that? Six months ago, Sulu had been downright embarrassing; thanking him so profusely and extensively that Jim now had a standing invite to eat with Casa de Sulu every Sunday that he was dirtside. He hadn’t done anything special. Sure, it’d been awesome and completely badass, but it wasn’t like he’d thought about it before he’d jumped off the drill. Same with Nyota. Jim had done it because... well. Because it was the right thing to do. He wouldn’t have been able to look at himself if he let her freeze because some bullshit regulation said that his rank was more important to Starfleet than hers. “I think Nyota saved herself. She just tolerated me, really. We kept each other from going batshit crazy.”
“I am unaware of any correlation between the guano of the Chiroptera and the Human propensity for psychotic episodes.”
It was Jim’s turn to blink. He felt his lips twitch in response, and watched as Spock’s eyebrow hiked even higher. “Bullshit. You can’t tell me that you haven’t studied idiomatic phrases. You just told a joke. A shitty one, but … wow, Spock!”
“If you say so, Captain. Regardless of your perception of the matter, I... I am gratified by the outcome. However, I have noticed that out of the previous twenty-eight away missions whereupon you beamed down to the planet in question, you have injured yourself on approximately fourteen different instances. Given recuperation time and the strain on our medical resources, up to and including the stress Doctor McCoy then transfers to those around them when you are grievously injured, I am unable to explain satisfactorily how this course of action continues to promote your successful job performance.”
Great. So, Spock clearly thought he was a total idiot.
“Ah, you know me, Spock. My first away mission was pretty intense. Surely you don’t expect me to change all that much, right?” Jim grinned.
Spock’s reaction shocked Jim. He watched as Spock stiffened even more, and in the dim light it looked as though Spock’s complexion paled.
“Spock?”
Spock stood up. “I wish to check on the status of one of my experiments. I will be sure to send the debriefing to your PADD at my first opper--”
“Spock, what the hell? What’s the matter?” Jim stood up, shifting his weight so that he was just slightly in Spock’s personal space. He reached out, trying not to react when Spock flinched away from his touch. Fuck. He didn’t know why that bugged him so much. Jim really had to try to remember that Spock had that weird thing about being touched. Jim turned the aborted reach into a gesture of peace; holding his hand up to try to forestall Spock from leaving.
“Spock?”
“Captain Kirk. When you were in medical distress, certain truths about the brief time you spent on Delta Vega came to my attention.”
Jim blinked. “You mean you read my mind?” He blurted the words before his exhausted brain could fully make his mouth stop speaking.
Spock actually took a step back, tugging sharply on the front of his uniform. “I had not anticipated--”
“Wait. Wait a second.” Jesus fuck, every time he opened his mouth around his First he choked on half his toes. “I’m not upset. I think it’s kind of cool actually. It’s not like you just walk in there and root around in my brain on every second Thursday. Calm down a little.”
“Calm is an emotion, which as a Vulcan I do not--”
“Spock. Sit down.” Jim was kind of proud of the note of command that he managed to sneak in his order. He’d been working on that for what felt like damn near forever.
Even more surprising was that Spock actually sat.
Jim felt dizzy for a second as his vision blurred. He blinked and took his own advice, sitting down somewhat gracelessly. “Look, Spock. I don’t know why you’re freaking out over this. Are you upset because you had to,” he wiggled his fingers in a way that was meant to be vaguely mystical, but probably looked more like he had a finger cramp, “do my brain?” Or are you mad at what you saw? I would never inflict what passes for my mind on anyone.”
Spock’s right eyebrow twitched.
“As captain, when I made the decision to eject you to the planet’s surface, it was with the understanding that any of the planet’s more carnivorous inhabitants would be hibernating.”
Jim cocked his head, staring at Spock, trying to keep the tiny grin off of his face. “You mean, after I pissed you off with all my illogical humaness, you tossed my ass out on Delta Vega because you thought I’d be safe?”
“Indeed. After your mutiny, your pod was programed to land only scant meters from the Starfleet outpost. I can only hypothesize that the anomaly created after Vulcan’s destruction ended the carnivorous creatures’ sleep cycle prematurely. I had calculated that there would be little danger. The temperature would make you uncomfortable, perhaps, but otherwise unharmed.”
“Oh. Wait, you didn’t know about the bear thingy or the mutant lobster thingy?”
“I did not.”
“Oh. Well, no harm, really. Just banged up a little bit. I, ah. Made my way to the outpost eventually.”
“Indeed.” Spock cocked his head, directly meeting Jim’s gaze for the first time since he sat down. “May I ask a personal query?”
Jim blinked. “Always, Spock.”
“You are registered as a psi-null, yet when our minds brushed together there were parts of your psyche that you have instinctively shielded against outside thought; preventing anyone from discerning your thoughts. Did you do this yourself?”
“Oh, hell no. An er... acquaintance... that I know helped set that up. I guess I was bleeding thoughts all over the place and disturbing him.” Having the Ambassador knocking politely on his door in the middle of the night had been one hell of a surprise, to say the least. Jim had greeted him with a toothbrush in his mouth, towel barely keeping him decent and had fumbled around like a complete dumbass, much to the elder Spock’s understated amusement.
Jim coughed, looking down at his PADD. Shit! He was having kind of a shitty day, but he was pretty sure that accidentally causing the end of the universe because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut about the Ambassador would really make it end on a sour note.
Spock’s eyebrow hiked so high that it disappeared into his bangs. He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, then closed it with a small snap.
Jim very carefully did not make eye contact and cast about his brain for a subject change. “Ah, so. Any reason that you can’t debrief me here? Or we could go get something to eat.”
Spock’s face shifted slightly and Jim almost sighed with relief. “We can make use of the replicator here if you wish. I confess that the relative peacefulness of this room is quite appealing.”
“Yeah, Okay so hit me. Wait. Do you want something?”
“I do not require sustenance at this time.”
“Right then.” Jim stood up and walked over to the replicator, ordering himself a simple bowl of soup and crackers. He smiled at the little leafy garnish that appeared with it. Scotty must have been futzing with the calibration schematics again. “Okay so... what do you have for me?” He waited for the soup, then paused, thinking. Jim entered a quick sequence and grinned at the large glass of milk that appeared. All he needed was a big, fuzzy blanket and he’d have all the comforts of home. He carefully made his way back to the small couch and placed his tray on a small table, looking up at Spock expectantly.
“The mission on planet Huxtor Three had several different instances where some not inconsequential aspect of the planned mission failed. Observations indicate that the High Chancellor had several dealings with the Klingons before the Enterprise crew beamed down to the surface. It is only logical that the planet’s inhabitants were acting on intelligence provided to them by the Klingons.”
“Right. So they got there and told them some bullshit. So why do you think they didn’t just call everything off? And why were the Klingons there in the first place? Sure they’ve been active the past few months, but there’s been nothing... nothing that indicated they were making some sort of move.” Jim blew on his soup and took a sip, wrinkling his nose at the flat taste. It was a fucking mystery how they could make chicken noodle soup appear out of thin air, have it smell absolutely perfect, but taste like a cross between old socks and dust bunnies steeped in stagnant water.
“Is something amiss?”
“Oh, no. Sorry Spock. This soup tastes like cardboard.”
“I am curious to when you have ingested that particular substance with the intention of comparing the two.”
“Again with the joking?” Jim didn’t even try to hide a grin. He and Spock were doing it again- slipping into this groove that made his blood sing. Sometimes he felt like he and Spock had known each other for years. Of course the rest of the time Jim felt like they were more likely to kill each other. Neither one of them were particularly shy when it came to expressing opinions.
“We spent approximately fourteen hours searching for you and Nyota’s signal. As suspected, the minerals indigenous to the planet’s mantle made it rather difficult.” Spock stood and crossed to the replicator. He entered a sequence and waited patiently as the container appeared, walking back to where Jim sat.
“If you are not content with your current choice, Vulcan Plomeek soup carries 87% of the daily nutrients recommended by Doctor McCoy for your metabolic intake.”
Jim paused for a second, completely shocked. He blinked up at Spock, touched. “Thanks, Spock. Sure, it smells great.” Actually, it didn’t really smell like anything, but Jim wasn’t about to refuse the gesture. Spock had brought the soup shaped in a large, deep bowl a lot like an old-fashioned coffee mug. Jim pursed his lips, blowing lightly on the soup, before trying a sip. The bright orange color made him think of carrots, but the taste was more like a scallion or onion.
It was delicious.
Jim took a bigger sip, than another, closing his eyes. It was as though his stomach, once he’d tasted the food, had began jumping up and down with pure bliss. Jim refrained from making appreciative noises purely by chance, and finished most of the soup in one go.
Spock watched him for a moment before his posture relaxed slightly and continued as though their conversation had not been interrupted. “In those fourteen hours, reports indicated that the group that took both you and Nyota were designing a large-scale weapon.”
Jim, who had tilted the soup mug to get the last few drops, choked on the liquid, setting the mug down on the tray with a muffled clink of sound.
Spock simply waited while Jim got ahold of himself. When Jim had managed to finish coughing, Spock continued: “We have no explanation as to why you and Nyota were transported to another location. I investigated the method thoroughly with both Mister Scott and Ensign Chekov. Neither could explain to my satisfaction how both of your signals could have been mistransported to an entirely different location.”
Oh hell. Chekov already just about pissed himself whenever he had to work with Spock. The teenager was- to say the least- intimidated by Spock’s presence. Jim knew that he still felt as though he had let Spock down by not being able to capture Spock’s mother’s signal when the planet collapsed. Chekov just kind of skirted around Spock, trying not to have too much to do with him either on or off duty. Jim made a mental note to talk to the young navigator. He ignored the way the newly grown skin on his back stretched when he lifted the glass of his milk to his mouth. His arm felt as though it weighed several pounds. His stomach was comfortably full now, and Jim blinked down at his PADD, trying to hide his sleepiness.
“Okay, so what’s the official word from Starfleet?”
“Nyota explained that while in the jail cell, one name was mentioned several times: Pegh yuQvam hoH.”
“ A secret planet? Kill? My Klingon is kinda rusty, but that can’t be good.”
“Indeed ‘More specifically, they spoke of a hidden world. The term hoH used in that context implies death, not specifies that state. Nyota did not recognize the exact dialect of your jailers. We have not been able to discover which planet they are referring. Communications has been tasked with monitoring all frequencies.”
Jim sat back in his chair, rubbing his palms absently on his thighs. “Those guards weren’t exactly the brightest, Spock. Nyota is a worlds renowned communications expert. They’d know who she is and what she can do. Doesn’t it seem a little too perfect that we just happened to overhear that?” Jim tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful if by the way Spock stiffened was any indication.
“Captain. You are clearly fatigued. We will continue our discussion after you have continued resting. Doctor McCoy has informed me of his medical limitations. If you wish, I will send the rest of the information to your PADD for perusal at your leisure.”
Jim blinked up at him. It was as though talking about his exhaustion made it even less possible to ignore. He felt as though he’d just been hit by a hovercar. Jim yawned behind his hand. “Sure Spock. Sounds good.” He didn’t really have the energy to argue, let alone the inclination.
He was aware that Spock had taken his tray to the recycler and disposed of its contents, but his blinking kept getting longer and longer. Jim stood and swayed on his feet while the stars reflecting from outside whirled and dipped around him. He felt Spock’s hand at his elbow and jumped a little, surprised. Spock let go as they began to walk towards Jim’s quarters.
Jim couldn’t ignore the way Spock seemed like some kind of furnace beside him. He was too tired to hold an actual conversation, but was unsurprised when Spock entered his quarters behind him. Jim stripped off the shirt and pants, leaving the underwear on as he crawled under his covers.
God, his bed had never felt so fucking perfect. Jim sighed and closed his eyes. He could ignore the way the muscles in his back throbbed so hard that he could feel it in his back teeth, could ignore the way his brain had fuzzed out, could ignore his embarrassment at pretty much collapsing in front of his first officer. What the hell was one more embarrassment stacked up on top of hundreds? Spock had seen him at his worst. Seeing him in his undies wasn't going to kill him.
The small pain in his neck and the familiar hiss of a hypospray made Jim frown slightly. He tried to ignore it, confused as to where Bones had come from. The warm hand that brushed against his forehead, however must have been a dream Jim leaned into the touch, surprised at the little buzz of ... something he felt. Jim smiled to himself, drifting off to sleep, amused in that sleepy, dream-like way that he would dream of Spock willingly touching him.
Caring for him.
(I'm trying to stick to a 4 day or so writing schedule! Thanks guys for those of you that are reading a WIP...)
NEXT
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: Erm idek. Probably longish. 3524/???
Paring: K/S (Background Uhura/Bones)
Warnings: This chapter: author's use of Klingon. *shudders* My apologies to the entire fandom.
Summary: Spock has a… not all together logical reaction to Captain Kirk’s constant disregard for his own safety on away missions.
Beta: The amazing
jademac2442 . I mean it guys. You should see what this looks like before she gets her hands on it! ♥♥♥A/N: Thanks to
jademac2442 and jlm121 for cheerleading and letting me bounce ideas off of their heads. This process was occasionally painful. Chapter 1:
The Observation deck was quiet. It was actually one of Jim’s favorite parts of his ship. It was smaller than the main observation decks, and out of the way from most of the foot traffic, given that it wasn’t near any of the main areas of the ship. Jim liked to see the stars flying by. Maybe it made him sentimental, but whenever he could look out into the black, it just calmed him down. It made him feel connected with his parents in a way that he’d never gotten to experience.
The lights were dim enough that the faint glow from his PADD could be seen in the reflection of the transparent aluminum that separated him from the stars.
Bones had been right. He’d been exhausted from the walk to his quarters. The shower hadn’t exactly been pleasant. It had taken him what felt like hours to strip and walk into the head. The shower had called to him. He’d had to forgo the water that he usually used, and switch to sonics instead. He’d been ready to drop.
Perversely, he’d refused to do so, knowing that somewhere Bones would somehow know that he was too tired and pounce on him. His muscles twinged at weird times, and Jim knew it would be smart for him to just go to bed. He should go to bed. He wanted to go to bed. Jim had made it to tossing his towel near the recycler before he made himself stop. It was no use. He couldn’t stop worrying over the last mission. It wasn’t that he’d never lost a member of his crew before. It wasn’t even the fact that he felt like the Klingons had fucked him over without even a kiss hello.
Now, sitting in his favorite chair, PADD resting on his knees, Jim couldn’t help but look out, eyes focusing inward as he thought about the last few days. This melancholy introspection wasn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t seem to snap himself out of it. How was it possible that Starfleet hadn’t had any intelligence on Klingon movement in that area? Jim didn’t much like feeling like a sitting duck. He and Uhura... no Nyota had been left to twiddle their thumbs, stranded from their ship. Presumably, Spock had kept things running fine on the Enterprise. Obviously. Jim couldn’t imagine a situation where Spock wasn’t handling things with perfect ease. But why had things gone so wrong? How the hell had they ended up on that frozen iceball of shitfuckery? And what the hell about what happened in Sickbay? Jim sighed, doodling a little on his PADD as he thought. He blinked, staring down at his notes.
There were a lot of Goddamn questions, and not a lot of Goddamn answers.
If he known about the Klingons mucking about the area, then things might have gone differently. If Starfleet had fucking given him a glimmer of even the beginnings of a hint that things were not quite what they had seemed, then maybe....fuck. That seemed to be a trend of late. The flagship was sent into situation after situation designed to make Starfleet’s PR look good. After Nero, Jim and his crew of young, talented, genius (and let’s not forget gorgeous) personnel had made Starfleet look damn good.
Jim had known that his job as a captain would force him into playing politics. It went without saying.
But it really, really pissed him the fuck off when that sort of bullshit put his crew in danger.
Jim sighed again, looking down at the list of the deceased. Jim’s hand tightened around the stylus so tightly that bottom of it pressed into his hand. Exhaustion pulled at him, causing his eyes to sting. Ensign James, Lieutenant Harper and Ensign Geoffries. Good, hardworking people that had died in the line of duty. Uselessly. As a distraction. Because they had been determined as unnecessary.
Jim, two security officers, Nyota, and that young ensign that Nyota had been so proud of. The three of them were dead because Jim had needed them on the away team. Jim made a little note to make sure that he sat down and talked to Nyota. He could tell her until he was blue in the face that Ensign James’ death wasn’t her fault, but Jim knew she wouldn’t take the comfort.
The doors hissed open and Jim tensed a little, knowing that Spock was the only person who would come to find him. It had become his habit to find Jim after an away mission that went awry. If it had been anyone else, Jim would have thought that they were checking up on him.
“Captain.”
“Hey, Spock.” Jim straightened in his chair, ignoring the way the large muscles in his back twanged. “Have a seat.”
Spock did, sitting stiffly. The couch across from Jim was very comfortable, consisting mostly of fluffy pillows and cushions. Spock managed to look completely unmoved by its comfort. His back was painfully straight, his hands resting at precise angles on his leg, just above his knee. Jim looked at him from under his eyelashes before taking a minute to finish up his note to himself. Whatever Spock had to debrief him with was probably going to take awhile.
“What can I do for you?” Jim watched as Spock’s eyebrow raised slightly, the same familiar impassivity on his angular face.
He was silent for a moment, the silence between them stretching to slightly uncomfortable before speaking. “Nyota informed me that she retained few injuries from the away mission and that you acted selflessly in keeping her unharmed.”
Jim felt his face flush. Why is it that people constantly felt the need to thank him for things like that? Six months ago, Sulu had been downright embarrassing; thanking him so profusely and extensively that Jim now had a standing invite to eat with Casa de Sulu every Sunday that he was dirtside. He hadn’t done anything special. Sure, it’d been awesome and completely badass, but it wasn’t like he’d thought about it before he’d jumped off the drill. Same with Nyota. Jim had done it because... well. Because it was the right thing to do. He wouldn’t have been able to look at himself if he let her freeze because some bullshit regulation said that his rank was more important to Starfleet than hers. “I think Nyota saved herself. She just tolerated me, really. We kept each other from going batshit crazy.”
“I am unaware of any correlation between the guano of the Chiroptera and the Human propensity for psychotic episodes.”
It was Jim’s turn to blink. He felt his lips twitch in response, and watched as Spock’s eyebrow hiked even higher. “Bullshit. You can’t tell me that you haven’t studied idiomatic phrases. You just told a joke. A shitty one, but … wow, Spock!”
“If you say so, Captain. Regardless of your perception of the matter, I... I am gratified by the outcome. However, I have noticed that out of the previous twenty-eight away missions whereupon you beamed down to the planet in question, you have injured yourself on approximately fourteen different instances. Given recuperation time and the strain on our medical resources, up to and including the stress Doctor McCoy then transfers to those around them when you are grievously injured, I am unable to explain satisfactorily how this course of action continues to promote your successful job performance.”
Great. So, Spock clearly thought he was a total idiot.
“Ah, you know me, Spock. My first away mission was pretty intense. Surely you don’t expect me to change all that much, right?” Jim grinned.
Spock’s reaction shocked Jim. He watched as Spock stiffened even more, and in the dim light it looked as though Spock’s complexion paled.
“Spock?”
Spock stood up. “I wish to check on the status of one of my experiments. I will be sure to send the debriefing to your PADD at my first opper--”
“Spock, what the hell? What’s the matter?” Jim stood up, shifting his weight so that he was just slightly in Spock’s personal space. He reached out, trying not to react when Spock flinched away from his touch. Fuck. He didn’t know why that bugged him so much. Jim really had to try to remember that Spock had that weird thing about being touched. Jim turned the aborted reach into a gesture of peace; holding his hand up to try to forestall Spock from leaving.
“Spock?”
“Captain Kirk. When you were in medical distress, certain truths about the brief time you spent on Delta Vega came to my attention.”
Jim blinked. “You mean you read my mind?” He blurted the words before his exhausted brain could fully make his mouth stop speaking.
Spock actually took a step back, tugging sharply on the front of his uniform. “I had not anticipated--”
“Wait. Wait a second.” Jesus fuck, every time he opened his mouth around his First he choked on half his toes. “I’m not upset. I think it’s kind of cool actually. It’s not like you just walk in there and root around in my brain on every second Thursday. Calm down a little.”
“Calm is an emotion, which as a Vulcan I do not--”
“Spock. Sit down.” Jim was kind of proud of the note of command that he managed to sneak in his order. He’d been working on that for what felt like damn near forever.
Even more surprising was that Spock actually sat.
Jim felt dizzy for a second as his vision blurred. He blinked and took his own advice, sitting down somewhat gracelessly. “Look, Spock. I don’t know why you’re freaking out over this. Are you upset because you had to,” he wiggled his fingers in a way that was meant to be vaguely mystical, but probably looked more like he had a finger cramp, “do my brain?” Or are you mad at what you saw? I would never inflict what passes for my mind on anyone.”
Spock’s right eyebrow twitched.
“As captain, when I made the decision to eject you to the planet’s surface, it was with the understanding that any of the planet’s more carnivorous inhabitants would be hibernating.”
Jim cocked his head, staring at Spock, trying to keep the tiny grin off of his face. “You mean, after I pissed you off with all my illogical humaness, you tossed my ass out on Delta Vega because you thought I’d be safe?”
“Indeed. After your mutiny, your pod was programed to land only scant meters from the Starfleet outpost. I can only hypothesize that the anomaly created after Vulcan’s destruction ended the carnivorous creatures’ sleep cycle prematurely. I had calculated that there would be little danger. The temperature would make you uncomfortable, perhaps, but otherwise unharmed.”
“Oh. Wait, you didn’t know about the bear thingy or the mutant lobster thingy?”
“I did not.”
“Oh. Well, no harm, really. Just banged up a little bit. I, ah. Made my way to the outpost eventually.”
“Indeed.” Spock cocked his head, directly meeting Jim’s gaze for the first time since he sat down. “May I ask a personal query?”
Jim blinked. “Always, Spock.”
“You are registered as a psi-null, yet when our minds brushed together there were parts of your psyche that you have instinctively shielded against outside thought; preventing anyone from discerning your thoughts. Did you do this yourself?”
“Oh, hell no. An er... acquaintance... that I know helped set that up. I guess I was bleeding thoughts all over the place and disturbing him.” Having the Ambassador knocking politely on his door in the middle of the night had been one hell of a surprise, to say the least. Jim had greeted him with a toothbrush in his mouth, towel barely keeping him decent and had fumbled around like a complete dumbass, much to the elder Spock’s understated amusement.
Jim coughed, looking down at his PADD. Shit! He was having kind of a shitty day, but he was pretty sure that accidentally causing the end of the universe because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut about the Ambassador would really make it end on a sour note.
Spock’s eyebrow hiked so high that it disappeared into his bangs. He opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, then closed it with a small snap.
Jim very carefully did not make eye contact and cast about his brain for a subject change. “Ah, so. Any reason that you can’t debrief me here? Or we could go get something to eat.”
Spock’s face shifted slightly and Jim almost sighed with relief. “We can make use of the replicator here if you wish. I confess that the relative peacefulness of this room is quite appealing.”
“Yeah, Okay so hit me. Wait. Do you want something?”
“I do not require sustenance at this time.”
“Right then.” Jim stood up and walked over to the replicator, ordering himself a simple bowl of soup and crackers. He smiled at the little leafy garnish that appeared with it. Scotty must have been futzing with the calibration schematics again. “Okay so... what do you have for me?” He waited for the soup, then paused, thinking. Jim entered a quick sequence and grinned at the large glass of milk that appeared. All he needed was a big, fuzzy blanket and he’d have all the comforts of home. He carefully made his way back to the small couch and placed his tray on a small table, looking up at Spock expectantly.
“The mission on planet Huxtor Three had several different instances where some not inconsequential aspect of the planned mission failed. Observations indicate that the High Chancellor had several dealings with the Klingons before the Enterprise crew beamed down to the surface. It is only logical that the planet’s inhabitants were acting on intelligence provided to them by the Klingons.”
“Right. So they got there and told them some bullshit. So why do you think they didn’t just call everything off? And why were the Klingons there in the first place? Sure they’ve been active the past few months, but there’s been nothing... nothing that indicated they were making some sort of move.” Jim blew on his soup and took a sip, wrinkling his nose at the flat taste. It was a fucking mystery how they could make chicken noodle soup appear out of thin air, have it smell absolutely perfect, but taste like a cross between old socks and dust bunnies steeped in stagnant water.
“Is something amiss?”
“Oh, no. Sorry Spock. This soup tastes like cardboard.”
“I am curious to when you have ingested that particular substance with the intention of comparing the two.”
“Again with the joking?” Jim didn’t even try to hide a grin. He and Spock were doing it again- slipping into this groove that made his blood sing. Sometimes he felt like he and Spock had known each other for years. Of course the rest of the time Jim felt like they were more likely to kill each other. Neither one of them were particularly shy when it came to expressing opinions.
“We spent approximately fourteen hours searching for you and Nyota’s signal. As suspected, the minerals indigenous to the planet’s mantle made it rather difficult.” Spock stood and crossed to the replicator. He entered a sequence and waited patiently as the container appeared, walking back to where Jim sat.
“If you are not content with your current choice, Vulcan Plomeek soup carries 87% of the daily nutrients recommended by Doctor McCoy for your metabolic intake.”
Jim paused for a second, completely shocked. He blinked up at Spock, touched. “Thanks, Spock. Sure, it smells great.” Actually, it didn’t really smell like anything, but Jim wasn’t about to refuse the gesture. Spock had brought the soup shaped in a large, deep bowl a lot like an old-fashioned coffee mug. Jim pursed his lips, blowing lightly on the soup, before trying a sip. The bright orange color made him think of carrots, but the taste was more like a scallion or onion.
It was delicious.
Jim took a bigger sip, than another, closing his eyes. It was as though his stomach, once he’d tasted the food, had began jumping up and down with pure bliss. Jim refrained from making appreciative noises purely by chance, and finished most of the soup in one go.
Spock watched him for a moment before his posture relaxed slightly and continued as though their conversation had not been interrupted. “In those fourteen hours, reports indicated that the group that took both you and Nyota were designing a large-scale weapon.”
Jim, who had tilted the soup mug to get the last few drops, choked on the liquid, setting the mug down on the tray with a muffled clink of sound.
Spock simply waited while Jim got ahold of himself. When Jim had managed to finish coughing, Spock continued: “We have no explanation as to why you and Nyota were transported to another location. I investigated the method thoroughly with both Mister Scott and Ensign Chekov. Neither could explain to my satisfaction how both of your signals could have been mistransported to an entirely different location.”
Oh hell. Chekov already just about pissed himself whenever he had to work with Spock. The teenager was- to say the least- intimidated by Spock’s presence. Jim knew that he still felt as though he had let Spock down by not being able to capture Spock’s mother’s signal when the planet collapsed. Chekov just kind of skirted around Spock, trying not to have too much to do with him either on or off duty. Jim made a mental note to talk to the young navigator. He ignored the way the newly grown skin on his back stretched when he lifted the glass of his milk to his mouth. His arm felt as though it weighed several pounds. His stomach was comfortably full now, and Jim blinked down at his PADD, trying to hide his sleepiness.
“Okay, so what’s the official word from Starfleet?”
“Nyota explained that while in the jail cell, one name was mentioned several times: Pegh yuQvam hoH.”
“ A secret planet? Kill? My Klingon is kinda rusty, but that can’t be good.”
“Indeed ‘More specifically, they spoke of a hidden world. The term hoH used in that context implies death, not specifies that state. Nyota did not recognize the exact dialect of your jailers. We have not been able to discover which planet they are referring. Communications has been tasked with monitoring all frequencies.”
Jim sat back in his chair, rubbing his palms absently on his thighs. “Those guards weren’t exactly the brightest, Spock. Nyota is a worlds renowned communications expert. They’d know who she is and what she can do. Doesn’t it seem a little too perfect that we just happened to overhear that?” Jim tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful if by the way Spock stiffened was any indication.
“Captain. You are clearly fatigued. We will continue our discussion after you have continued resting. Doctor McCoy has informed me of his medical limitations. If you wish, I will send the rest of the information to your PADD for perusal at your leisure.”
Jim blinked up at him. It was as though talking about his exhaustion made it even less possible to ignore. He felt as though he’d just been hit by a hovercar. Jim yawned behind his hand. “Sure Spock. Sounds good.” He didn’t really have the energy to argue, let alone the inclination.
He was aware that Spock had taken his tray to the recycler and disposed of its contents, but his blinking kept getting longer and longer. Jim stood and swayed on his feet while the stars reflecting from outside whirled and dipped around him. He felt Spock’s hand at his elbow and jumped a little, surprised. Spock let go as they began to walk towards Jim’s quarters.
Jim couldn’t ignore the way Spock seemed like some kind of furnace beside him. He was too tired to hold an actual conversation, but was unsurprised when Spock entered his quarters behind him. Jim stripped off the shirt and pants, leaving the underwear on as he crawled under his covers.
God, his bed had never felt so fucking perfect. Jim sighed and closed his eyes. He could ignore the way the muscles in his back throbbed so hard that he could feel it in his back teeth, could ignore the way his brain had fuzzed out, could ignore his embarrassment at pretty much collapsing in front of his first officer. What the hell was one more embarrassment stacked up on top of hundreds? Spock had seen him at his worst. Seeing him in his undies wasn't going to kill him.
The small pain in his neck and the familiar hiss of a hypospray made Jim frown slightly. He tried to ignore it, confused as to where Bones had come from. The warm hand that brushed against his forehead, however must have been a dream Jim leaned into the touch, surprised at the little buzz of ... something he felt. Jim smiled to himself, drifting off to sleep, amused in that sleepy, dream-like way that he would dream of Spock willingly touching him.
Caring for him.
(I'm trying to stick to a 4 day or so writing schedule! Thanks guys for those of you that are reading a WIP...)
NEXT
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 02:18 pm (UTC)I love the part you added to this chapter since I read it the other night.
Plus I love the humour interwoven with the rest of it.
More more more more more more more more!
Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaassssssssseeeeeeeee!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 04:34 pm (UTC)GRABBY GREEDY HANDS *MOAR MOAR*
no subject
Date: 2011-02-05 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-06 01:26 am (UTC)<3
no subject
Date: 2011-02-07 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-04 03:12 am (UTC)Off to read more.