K/S Ficlet- Gift of Understanding
Sep. 8th, 2011 09:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1lostoneI've had a rather epically bad day, so I bring you tiny!fic. Unbeta'd.
Title: Gift of Understanding
Word count: 1003
Rating: PG-13 for language
Universe: Reboot
Relationship: First-Time
Plot: Jealous!Spock,
Summary: Jim gives Spock a gift.
He doesn’t fucking get why Spock is so pissed off. And yeah, Jim knows
all about just how ‘pissed off’ Spock can get... forget about all that
‘repressed Vulcan emotion’ bullshit. He still had vivid nightmares of
Chekov’s console digging into his back while Spock’s inhumanly hot hand
tightened around his throat, thanks.
It wasn’t like he had done anything against regulations. Two dances. Shit,
it wasn’t like he’d jumped the old guy or anything. It was supposed
to be a surprise!
Some surprise. Spock had watched the Vulcan dance with a face that looked
as though it had been cast in marble, two flags of olive green bruising
his cheeks. Jim had been so intent on his Spock’s reaction that he had
almost fucked up the steps, steps the Ambassador had taken months
to show him. Months of research into Vulcan ritual dances. Months of
the older, not-quite version of Spock correcting his movements via
subspace transmission. Months of practice, unending, uncompromising
practice.
Because if Jim was gonna do some kind of crazy, over-the top honorific shit in
front of most of the Admiralty, half the fucking press in the galaxy,
and T’Pau, it was gonna be perfect.
The only flub, in fact had been when the Vulcan’s fingers had slipped from
the formation, the first two digits sliding down slightly over Jim’s. It
had been a weird feeling, like a mid-grade jolt of electricity.
Jim stripped off his shirts, kicking his dress trousers off into a puddle
on the floor. If ever there was a time to enjoy the perks of being a
Captain, it was now. He quickly adjusted the water, requesting two
different types of bodywash from the hygiene replicator. Fuck water
rationing. He was taking his damn share. They were docked outside of
Earth; it wasn’t like things wouldn’t be replenished before they set off
on their third year of their mission.
Jim slid his hands over his chest, the smell of the eucalyptus wafting up
through the steam. Jim ordered the water ten degrees hotter, and rested
his forehead against the tile, letting the water beat down on his tense
neck. Bones teased him about his ‘damnfool girly bubbly shit.’ but it
was actually not too overpowering. Just a slight hint of scent, and
enough bubbles to make him happy.
You know what? Fuck it. James T. Kirk liked bubbles, okay? Deal.
Jim could still see Spock stalking off, as the two of them accepted the
nods of acknowledgement from the other Vulcans, and the honest applause
from the humans and other aliens present. Of course most would argue
that Vulcans didn’t stalk, but again. Jim considered himself somewhat of
an expert, and Spock was definitely stalking. If he hadn’t been so hurt
by Spock’s behavior, he would have laughed at the nervous looks of the
Cadets assigned to assist them through the gala.
The steam filled the small shower. Jim sighed, soaping his body absently,
still lost in his memories from earlier. What... what had he done? Did
he completely fuck somemthing up? Was Spock insulted that a human had
attempted what the Ambassador had told him was now, like so much of
Vulcan culture, so very precious to see and learn? It wasn’t a common
dance. The Ambassador had said that in history it was something usually
reserved for Tuh-hi-lee or something. Jim had been concentrating and
half-listening to Spock’s amused response, so he’d missed the Vulcan’s
answer.
It was a physical shock when the stall door slid open. The water was quite
warm, and as the cooler air swirled in, the lovely wall of steam Jim
had built up wafted out.
Spock.
His Spock, face carefully blank. Eyes, so, so not emotionless.
“Spock- what the...?” Jim couldn’t even finish the question before Spock was
shoving his way inside, latching the shower stall behind him. Spock
stepped right into Jim’s space, his uniform brushing against Jim’s wet,
naked skin, quickly becoming drenched with the shower water.
Spock’s hands came up to cup Jim’s face, and Jim flinched, too stunned to do
much more than passively react to Spock’s uncharacteristic actions. His
brain was conflicted; part screaming at him that this was wrong wrong
wrong, and part trusting Spock, always completely and utter trust, and
part oh God, wanting this so fucking bad but not believing what was happening...
“Captain. Jim. I... I wish to convey...” Jim watched, fascinated when Spock’s
lips actually trembled before firming, twitching almost as though he
were fully human, and desperate to speak.
Whatever it was Spock wished to convey was lost in the rush of sensation of
Spock’s lips on his, firm, almost bruising with possessive intent. Jim’s
own lips parted on a moan, his head snapped back against the tile,
shivering a little as the cool surface slid against his skin. Spock’s
hands tightened on Jim’s cheeks, holding Jim’s head to him, tilting it
slightly. Jim’s knees threatened to buckle at the feel of Spock’s tongue
sliding wetly against his, tangling together, mapping the feel of Jim’s
mouth.
Jim tore his lips away to breathe, knowing that his eyes were shocked wide
open, staring slightly up into Spock’s own intense brown gaze. Spock’s
hair was drenched, his uniform almost black with water. Spock’s hands
slid down Jim’s arms, and Jim felt his throat tighten at the way Spock’s
nostrils flared at the feel of Jim’s musculature.
Not speaking seemed to be working for him as he watched Spock bring his
hand up, so Jim could see their fingers tangle together. With a jolt,
Jim recognized the gesture from earlier, only instead of a mild spark,
it was like stepping up to a star ready to go super-nova.
“This, Jim. This is a Vulcan kiss.” Spock moved his fingers together, and Jim
bit his bottom lip, watching everything he’d ever wanted no longer
hidden by Spock’s unflinching control. His whole world, everything he’d
ever thought he wanted was in Spock’s gaze.
Jim’s smile was wide enough to hurt his jaw.
(sorry about the weird formatting, what the actual fuck, lj?!!?)
Title: Gift of Understanding
Word count: 1003
Rating: PG-13 for language
Universe: Reboot
Relationship: First-Time
Plot: Jealous!Spock,
Summary: Jim gives Spock a gift.
He doesn’t fucking get why Spock is so pissed off. And yeah, Jim knows
all about just how ‘pissed off’ Spock can get... forget about all that
‘repressed Vulcan emotion’ bullshit. He still had vivid nightmares of
Chekov’s console digging into his back while Spock’s inhumanly hot hand
tightened around his throat, thanks.
It wasn’t like he had done anything against regulations. Two dances. Shit,
it wasn’t like he’d jumped the old guy or anything. It was supposed
to be a surprise!
Some surprise. Spock had watched the Vulcan dance with a face that looked
as though it had been cast in marble, two flags of olive green bruising
his cheeks. Jim had been so intent on his Spock’s reaction that he had
almost fucked up the steps, steps the Ambassador had taken months
to show him. Months of research into Vulcan ritual dances. Months of
the older, not-quite version of Spock correcting his movements via
subspace transmission. Months of practice, unending, uncompromising
practice.
Because if Jim was gonna do some kind of crazy, over-the top honorific shit in
front of most of the Admiralty, half the fucking press in the galaxy,
and T’Pau, it was gonna be perfect.
The only flub, in fact had been when the Vulcan’s fingers had slipped from
the formation, the first two digits sliding down slightly over Jim’s. It
had been a weird feeling, like a mid-grade jolt of electricity.
Jim stripped off his shirts, kicking his dress trousers off into a puddle
on the floor. If ever there was a time to enjoy the perks of being a
Captain, it was now. He quickly adjusted the water, requesting two
different types of bodywash from the hygiene replicator. Fuck water
rationing. He was taking his damn share. They were docked outside of
Earth; it wasn’t like things wouldn’t be replenished before they set off
on their third year of their mission.
Jim slid his hands over his chest, the smell of the eucalyptus wafting up
through the steam. Jim ordered the water ten degrees hotter, and rested
his forehead against the tile, letting the water beat down on his tense
neck. Bones teased him about his ‘damnfool girly bubbly shit.’ but it
was actually not too overpowering. Just a slight hint of scent, and
enough bubbles to make him happy.
You know what? Fuck it. James T. Kirk liked bubbles, okay? Deal.
Jim could still see Spock stalking off, as the two of them accepted the
nods of acknowledgement from the other Vulcans, and the honest applause
from the humans and other aliens present. Of course most would argue
that Vulcans didn’t stalk, but again. Jim considered himself somewhat of
an expert, and Spock was definitely stalking. If he hadn’t been so hurt
by Spock’s behavior, he would have laughed at the nervous looks of the
Cadets assigned to assist them through the gala.
The steam filled the small shower. Jim sighed, soaping his body absently,
still lost in his memories from earlier. What... what had he done? Did
he completely fuck somemthing up? Was Spock insulted that a human had
attempted what the Ambassador had told him was now, like so much of
Vulcan culture, so very precious to see and learn? It wasn’t a common
dance. The Ambassador had said that in history it was something usually
reserved for Tuh-hi-lee or something. Jim had been concentrating and
half-listening to Spock’s amused response, so he’d missed the Vulcan’s
answer.
It was a physical shock when the stall door slid open. The water was quite
warm, and as the cooler air swirled in, the lovely wall of steam Jim
had built up wafted out.
Spock.
His Spock, face carefully blank. Eyes, so, so not emotionless.
“Spock- what the...?” Jim couldn’t even finish the question before Spock was
shoving his way inside, latching the shower stall behind him. Spock
stepped right into Jim’s space, his uniform brushing against Jim’s wet,
naked skin, quickly becoming drenched with the shower water.
Spock’s hands came up to cup Jim’s face, and Jim flinched, too stunned to do
much more than passively react to Spock’s uncharacteristic actions. His
brain was conflicted; part screaming at him that this was wrong wrong
wrong, and part trusting Spock, always completely and utter trust, and
part oh God, wanting this so fucking bad but not believing what was happening...
“Captain. Jim. I... I wish to convey...” Jim watched, fascinated when Spock’s
lips actually trembled before firming, twitching almost as though he
were fully human, and desperate to speak.
Whatever it was Spock wished to convey was lost in the rush of sensation of
Spock’s lips on his, firm, almost bruising with possessive intent. Jim’s
own lips parted on a moan, his head snapped back against the tile,
shivering a little as the cool surface slid against his skin. Spock’s
hands tightened on Jim’s cheeks, holding Jim’s head to him, tilting it
slightly. Jim’s knees threatened to buckle at the feel of Spock’s tongue
sliding wetly against his, tangling together, mapping the feel of Jim’s
mouth.
Jim tore his lips away to breathe, knowing that his eyes were shocked wide
open, staring slightly up into Spock’s own intense brown gaze. Spock’s
hair was drenched, his uniform almost black with water. Spock’s hands
slid down Jim’s arms, and Jim felt his throat tighten at the way Spock’s
nostrils flared at the feel of Jim’s musculature.
Not speaking seemed to be working for him as he watched Spock bring his
hand up, so Jim could see their fingers tangle together. With a jolt,
Jim recognized the gesture from earlier, only instead of a mild spark,
it was like stepping up to a star ready to go super-nova.
“This, Jim. This is a Vulcan kiss.” Spock moved his fingers together, and Jim
bit his bottom lip, watching everything he’d ever wanted no longer
hidden by Spock’s unflinching control. His whole world, everything he’d
ever thought he wanted was in Spock’s gaze.
Jim’s smile was wide enough to hurt his jaw.
(sorry about the weird formatting, what the actual fuck, lj?!!?)
