Matchmaker, Matchmaker Part II

[1lostone]

Title: Matchmaker, Matchmaker

Written: for logical_stimuli 's prompt at the kink meme, mostly because it cracked me the hell up. Here's what they wrote: We all know Q loves to cause problems, so what if he decided to play matchmaker (not thinking it would actually work) between Kirk/Bones or Kirk/Spock. I imagine Q would be excellent at this since he can stop time, change his appearance and pretty much be everywhere at once.

Universe: Reboot, with mentions of TNG

Pairing: K/S, naturally.

Rating: Adult

Warnings: Humor, Romance, use of commas, etc.

A/N: You don't need to have seen TNG Q episodes to understand this fic. Just know that some of the dialogue comes directly from both Q Who and Deja Q (which is my absolute favorite Q episode evah!!.)  as always, thanks to ladyblahblah  for being an awesome beta. Any mistakes are mine because I can't keep fiddling with things.  yesterdays_girl , I love ya and ty for the encouragement and help!

Word Count: a shitload. (20,604)

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Jim hadn't been able to concentrate on the PADD full of paperwork. He kept darting little glances over to the science station where Spock worked, as efficiently as always. Jim had been jumpy, nervously twitching at every electronic beep from the computers on the Bridge, half-expecting to be beamed or zapped or whatever-the-fuck-was-happening away at each sound.

He quickly glanced at the chronometer. He had twenty minutes left of his shift left. . Never in the history of Man had twenty minutes seemed so long. With a frustrated sigh, he set the PADD aside and began to make his way around the Bridge, getting reports from station after station. His crew, used to his need to burn off excess energy, reported their findings, answered questions and generally ignored the fact that they could have accomplished the same thing by simply sending the report into the Captain's workstation.

Jim was able to think and work at the same time, a fact that he had rarely appreciated until now. He could count on one hand the number of times that Spock had shared anything personal with him. Willingly. Hell, one of those times it wasn't even his Spock that had shared- rather an alternate, older version of himself. Spock was one of the most private people he knew. The fact that it had taken almost three entire months and a strange god-like being with unknown power to make Spock reveal anything personal about himself was…

… well, fucking sad, actually. Wasn't that his job? As a Captain, or even as a friend, wasn't that his job to secure a working relationship with his senior officers? He hadn't even been able to begin that task with Spock. He knew Uhura loved to dance. She would dance for fun, for exercise and relaxation. Sulu had cultivated badassery to a fine science when it came to his fencing, but would still wibble like a five-year old with a new kitten when a new plant was introduced into the botany labs. Chekov wasn't a senior officer, but given that he had been such an important part of their first mission together, Jim had taken special pains to get to know him. They had discussed Tolstoy and Pavlova. Jim knew Chekov was passionate about the new advances in transporter technology, and completely understood why he had such a desire to know everything. It was the same reason Chekov usually avoided Spock when he could, his normally bright eyes subdued and guilt-ridden. Bones. . . well. He knew more about him than anyone else on the ship. Scotty was easy- all he needed was a blind eye when it came to his stills and an open ear when it came to warp engines.

But Spock…? He knew nothing… except that Spock had once scared the bejesus out of his mother with some spiders.

"Report, Commander."

Jim was standing there, watching as Spock opened his mouth to answer him, when the familiar flash of light obliterated any sense of self. He shut his eyes.

***

He smelled horses.

This was extremely unfortunate, given that anything in the equine family was on Bones's "Code Red" list of Jim's allergies. Once, when Jim was little, he had assumed that riding a horse would feel both relaxing and calming. He'd thought that he would make an excellent cowboy. Jim hadn't taken into account the bony spine, pointed neck or long, flowing mane- that tended to end up right in his mouth, causing him to spit out the hair with a disgusted look on his face. He looked down, noting that from the view, he was draped over the horse… in someone's lap.

Jim would recognize those long, capable fingers anywhere.

"OH HELL NO!" Jim couldn't move quickly enough; he was sliding down off of the horse before he had even finished his outraged screech of rage. He landed on his ass in the middle of a mud puddle with a swish of fabric.

Spock was gaping at him.

On any other day of the week, Jim could have cheerfully had an argument with him about whether or not Vulcans did, indeed, gape. On any other day of the week, Spock would respond with cold indifference to Jim's cheerful, instant exuberance- see? Your eyes are wide, your mouth is hanging open, your ears are still Vulcany- ergo, Vulcans gape. But on any other day of the week, Jim would not have chosen to wear… a dress.

Jim's eyes squeezed shut. He froze, wincing inwardly. At least he thought it was a dress. It was a shade of fuchsia that he'd only seen a few times. There were what appeared to be ruffles. It had a very low-cut bodice that, had Jim actually had breasts, would have flattered them to their utmost advantage. Since he didn't, the deep V of the bodice went down almost to his belly button. The bodice was skin-tight, off his shoulders and flowing down to gossamer sleeves. The skirt was gathered at the waist, with more ruffles adorning the draped fabric. It seemed to be slit up his thigh, showing off the delicate pink stockings and sturdy kid riding boots. His knee, looking rather bony even in the lacy undergarments, stuck out of the slit in the skirt. Jim had a strange urge to adjust his skirts so that he wasn't flashing anything too shocking.

Jim raised his stunned eyes to Spock's. From his vantage point on the cold ground his gaze traveled up one booted leg. The leather went up to just over Spock's knee, ending in black leather breeches. Tucked into the breeches was a white, blousey shirt, unlaced enough to show a smattering of chest hair. Spock was still staring at him, two splotches of green very prominent high on his cheekbones. The horse, uncaring of the situation in which it now found itself, walked forward a few steps, stopping near where Jim sat, stunned. Spock, with a grace that seemed distinctly unfair to Jim given his current position, moved with the horse, his hips rocking with the motion of the beast's walk.

Jim licked his lips.

"Spock. If my ass didn't hurt right now, and if my face wasn't swelling shut because of the damn horse, I would ask you to pinch me. Because whoever the fuck is doing this? Sucks." He stood up, trying to smooth out his skirt so that it wouldn't be wrinkled. The rustling sound of the material was muffled in the crack of thunder that appeared almost out of nowhere.

Jim knew he probably looked ridiculous with his hands fisted on his hips. He didn't care. His eyes narrowed. He started to open his mouth, when a hefty sneeze interrupted his impending tirade. He gave the horse a truly evil look and took two steps back away from it. At least he tried to. Having never worn high heels before (well except that one time which he didn't ever really discuss) Jim misjudged his step and collapsed onto the ground with a cry of pain. He sneezed again, and felt his throat start to close. Spock moved as though to swing his leg off of the horse, but before he could there was a smaller flash of light and the horse disappeared, leaving Spock standing there, fiddling absently with a riding crop.

"Captain, did you injure yourself?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that, Spock. I'm beginning to think that I really, seriously pissed someone off."

Spock crouched down low, feeling at Jim's ankle through the boot. Jim hissed, and sucked in his breath hard, unable to hide his reaction to the pain of Spock's touch.

"Oh fuck me. Ouch. Ouch!" He yanked his ankle away from Spock's fingers.

"Captain, your infantile reaction is illogical. You have most likely broken your ankle. I would remove the boot, but I believe the laces are helping to effectively bind the appendage so that it has support." Spock gasped a little when Jim grabbed his wrist. He yanked his wrist out of Jim's hand, breaking their connection. Another rumble of thunder roared in counterpoint. Jim saw Spock shiver a little at the sudden drop in temperature.

Jim cursed again, remembering the touch telepathy. "Shit, Spock. I'm sorry. When I get nervous I tend to get a little touchy-feely."

"Understood. Can you stand?"

"I… think so." He cautiously tested his ankle. No, it wouldn't take any of his weight. Jim started to lose his balance, but before he could, Spock's arm came around his back, steadying him so that Jim leaned into his body, his weight off of his ankle.

The first fat drops of rain began to fall, slowly at first then with an almost furious rate of speed. The rain was cold. Jim held back a shiver with effort.

"Captain, I suggest that we find some sort of sh-shelter." Spock looked around, spying what looked to be a barn a few hundred meters away from their position. "If you will allow me to carry you, I believe I can have us there in approximately four minutes and twenty-three seconds."

"Approximately, huh? Well forget it. You go ahead. There's no way in hell you're carrying me like some swooning maiden across the threshold. I'll get there in eighteen point three minutes. Or fifteen point thirty-two hours. Whatever." Jim jerked away from Spock's supportive hold. He almost fell flat on his face as his good foot squelched in the mud, but managed to keep his balance by pinwheeling his arms, hearing a rip in the tight fabric of the bodice. He began a slow, painful limp towards the distant shelter. "And just why do I have to be the girl in this situation? Is it because I fuck guys? I bet it's because I fuck guys. Asshole. Suck one dick and they stick you in a dress forever. That kind of thinking went out of fashion over two hundred fucking years ago!" Jim shook his fist at the sky, and got a faceful of rain for his efforts. "Well, you listen here you idiot excuse for a god or a devil or whatever the fuck you are… GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Jim wobbled off, each step causing him to pale as the pain from his broken ankle hit him in the gut.

"C-c-captain. Your obstinacy is not b-b-beneficial to either of us."

Jim glared mutinously over at Spock, who stood, staring at him with his eyes still widened from Jim's outburst. The blush on his cheeks had traveled up to the very tips of his ears, causing them to fairly glow green. Jim growled something under his breath and turned, continuing to squelch through the mud. He saw a log in his way, and taking an extra careful step, darted a look out of the corner of his eye at Spock, who stood hunched in on himself, visually shivering from the icy cold rain. What was cold for a human was clearly torturous for a Vulcan, whose core body heat was several degrees higher.

Well, shit.

Jim stopped short, frowning. He watched Spock shudder from the cold for another minute, then cringed. "Spock. I… uh, oh damn. My ankle is really hurting. Is the offer to help me still open?"

Spock had turned to scoop him up in his arms almost before Jim had finished speaking. He took off for the shelter at a quick clip, jumping over fallen logs and rocks, his smooth gait not causing Jim one second of pain. Jim had been on hovercars that didn't run this well. As Spock ran, Jim was only conscious of a few sensory images- the heat against his back as Spock ran. The slight puff of air on his sodden hair as Spock breathed. The feel of Spock's arms, one hooked under his back, near his waist, and the other under his knees, keeping him curled protectively into Spock's chest.

It was nice. Even if it did make him feel like a total girl.

The barn was not the sturdy structure that it had looked like from a distance. It had collapsed on itself, and Spock refused to step one foot inside, citing several instances of just how structurally unsound it was. Instead he walked over to what looked to be a small overhang and pressed against the cool stone of the wall, huddling back as far as he could to get out of the rain.

Jim wiggled a little and Spock set him on his feet, carefully, making sure that Jim had his balance before letting go, crossing his arms over his chest, still violently shivering.

"Shit, Spock, are you okay? Are you going to get sick from this?"

"Vulcans do not get 'sick'. I will be at a perfectly acceptable health as long as my ambient temperature is able to rise within the next ten minutes."

Jim stared up at Spock for a moment, thinking. Spock's already flat hair was completely soaked, little rivulets of rain dripping down his nose and ears down the sides of his neck. The white shirt was now sheer. Jim could see the little whorls of hair on Spock's arms though the material, and stared for a minute at the flexing of muscles as Spock tried to hold onto any body heat that he could by crossing his arms over his chest. His teeth were clenched, forcing his face into a frown. Between the ears and the drenched hair, Spock looked like a seriously pissed-off cat that had been left outside in the rain.

"You will suh-suh-cease to compare me to your Terran f-f-feline." Spock's frown became even more pronounced. Jim realized that the clacking sound he was hearing was Spock's teeth chattering together.

He looked around, not seeing any other shelter. There was nothing to burn, no way to warm him up. Jim stepped a little closer, rubbing his hands briskly over Spock's shoulders, down his arms, and back up, quickly trying to create some sort of friction. Spock made a sound in the back of his throat and flattened himself back into the wall.

"Sorry, man. I know you are not a big fan of the touching. And god knows what you're picking up from my idiotic brain right now." Jim tried to take another step forward, thinking that at least his body would have some body heat for Spock to absorb, but slipped with the heel of his boot, causing him to lose his balance again. He grabbed Spock, grunting a little when their bodies slid against each other, Jim falling into Spock's side. He moved back to a distance that wouldn't freak out his prudish First Officer. "So, this guy? I wonder why he feels he has to torment us this way. You're about to freeze to death. It's not fair. None of this is fair to you. I keep apologizing but. . . " He stopped moving his hands over Spock's shoulders, reaching down and grabbing Spock's hands. He squeezed them once and then pressed them to his chest, chaffing the backs of them, curling over them so that he could huff a hot breath to try and warm them up. "I really am sorry, Spock."

Spock swallowed hard, his eyes blinking open for just a moment, seeing Jim's head bowed over his hands as he tried to warm him. When he looked up, Spock's eyes slid closed at the look of earnestness on Jim's face. Spock's fingers twitched, and it was Jim's turn to suck in a startled breath as the very tips of Spock's fingers brushed against Jim's nipples, outlined in sharp contrast from the drenched fabric of his dress. Jim's eyes widened- his gaze suddenly very blue in the semi-darkness from the thunderstorm. Spock watched the human's tongue come out to nervously moisten his chapped lips. Spock watched, fascinated as Jim's gaze seemed to draw closer to his own….

When the white light came, startlingly incandescent, encompassing every bit of their existence, it was hardly a surprise to either one of them. When it cleared, they sprang almost violently apart, Jim crying out as his ankle twisted again, his leg starting to buckle underneath him. Spock reached out to grab him, his instinct the only thing keeping Jim upright.

There were several gasps as the crew got a good look at the wet, bedraggled, oddly-dressed pair.

"Seriously? Fuck my life." Jim glared around at his crew. "Not one word. Not one or you will be doing Gamma shift for the next six months. Kirk to McCoy. I broke my goddamn ankle. Meet me in front of the turbolift. Sulu, you have the con. Spock, let's go." He hobbled to the lift, Spock walking just behind him.

***

It took Bones at least three full minutes to stop laughing. He would look from Jim, huddled on the biobed with his arms crossed over his chest, to Spock who hovered at his side, then do a once over from Jim's head to his feet. He would make it to the stockings peeking out of the slit in Jim's dress before losing it.

"I hate you. You know this, right?" Jim grunted a little when Bones cut off the boot.

He bit his lip and sucked in his breath at the throbbing pain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock twitch as though fighting the urge to take a step forward.

"Damnit Jim, you really did a number on this ankle. You wanna tell me how the hell you two managed to get in this situation?"

"No." Jim's eyebrows narrowed.

"Well aren't we the grouchy little princess."

"Bite me. You try being cheerful while there's a thong flossing your ass." Jim rolled his eyes at Bones as the other man snorted and started chuckling again. But his fingers were extremely gentle as he examined the broken bone.

"Excuse me, Captain but what is a tho—aaah, achoo!"

There was complete silence in the Sickbay as everyone looked for the source of the tiny, high-pitched sneeze.

Bones stared at Spock, who stood at rigid attention with one hand clasped over his mouth and nose, eyes widened with shock. Bones, however, looked as though thirty-seven birthdays and Christmases had come all at once, bearing copious amounts of alcohol. "Spock… do you have a cold?"

There was a small sniff of derision. "My research would seem to indicate that you do, indeed, have a medical degree. Perhaps you can elucidate. Otherwise, the Human tendency to supplant any tenuous grasps of logic with stunning bouts of redundancy will never cease to fascinate me."

Bones blinked. "Aw, Spock," he drawled. "I didn't know you cared."

"Aaa-choo!" Spock's brows drew together. His mouth twitched. He turned on one heel and stalked out of Sickbay, moving briskly around Nurse Chapel, who did a double take and almost dropped the tray she was holding. Her eyes followed Spock in the wet, tight breeches as he walked. She swallowed once, hard.

"And get some rest!" Bones called out after him, grinning up at Jim who lounged back a little on his hands. He absently grabbed the regenerator and ran it gently over Jim's ankle. Jim sat up and started unlacing the other boot, kicking it off his foot with a dull thunk. He stripped off the pink stocking and tossed it onto Bones's head.

"So… cross-dressing?" Bones took off the stocking, making a face and tossing it onto the floor.

"It's kinda hard to explain." Jim pressed one finger to his ear and wiggled it, trying to remove the water that had collected there. "Just believe me when I say that there is someone, who... well, I don't think he means us harm exactly. But he's sort of fucking with us." Jim gestured to the sodden dress. "Clearly. Do you think I should check up on Spock?"

"Do you have a death wish?"

"Hmm. Ouch! Watch it!"

"Quit being such a damn baby." Bones pressed lightly against the ankle, testing its tenderness. He grabbed another instrument and grumbled something under his breath, then waited a few minutes and yanked on Jim's foot. It popped, but didn't hurt. "Wear this splint for two hours. No compla- what the hell are you doing?"

Jim had stood up and was in the process of taking off the dress. His voice was muffled. "Get me some scrubs." He tossed the dress into a pile, ignoring the wet squelching sound it made as it slid against the floor. He bent over to remove the final stocking.

There was another crash from one of the other Sickbay cubicles.

"My God man. Take these." Bones tossed a pair of trousers to Jim who grinned at him unabashedly. He put them on and tied the drawstring, turning to limp out of Sickbay. Bones shook his head, staring after his friend.

"Guess he was kidding about the thong."

***

Jim was exhausted. He lay in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Too many things had happened in the past few hours. It seemed unbelievable that the date, the net and the… well… ginormous clusterfuck had all happened instantly. Each episode had seemed to be in real time. Spock had been right- this time his entire bridge crew had seen him and Spock disappear, and then reappear in a blinding flash of light. Crew members were starting to mutter under their breath about being kidnapped from their beds. Jim rolled over and punched his pillow.

He swallowed hard, remembering that quick jolt of heat when Spock had moved his hands onto his chest. Spock had looked like an incarnation of some of Jim's more pornographic wet dreams. He winced, remembering the way he had acted, childish behavior that had probably caused Spock's illness. Jim frowned. Poor Spock. He didn't think the Vulcan had ever been sick before. Part of him wanted to go and check on him, while part was afraid that Spock would break him in half for the crap Jim had put him though.

He sighed. He was not good at passively waiting for things to happen to him. But what else could he do? The Q guy hadn't shown up since the first time, preferring to work from behind the scenes. If he showed up again, Jim would work out some of his frustrations. On his face. He smirked, shutting his eyes and finally starting to relax.

"You wish, Human." Neither the accompanying flash of light, nor the spoken, sardonic words made an impression on Jim as he slipped into sleep.

***

Jim sighed, not fully awake. He was curled on his side, a warm weight pressed up against him from his neck to his legs. That was kind of weird. Jim didn't usually wake up with other people in his bed, preferring to keep things uncomplicated –either by going to his own bed after sex, or by gently (and sometimes not so gently) urging his bed-partner to get a move on with his or her own walk of shame so that he could have his bed to himself.

This was nice, though. He was warm enough that he had kicked off his blankets in the middle of the night, but the body heat from whoever he had slept with was keeping him perfectly comfortable. He made a sleepy sound and pressed back into the body behind him. An arm slid slowly over his chest, warm fingers resting against his abdomen, pulling him back and angling him so that Jim could feel the hot length pressed up against his ass. Jim wiggled a little, a sleepy grin on his face, legs moving a little restlessly.

The hand drifted down, brushing against his half-hard cock. Jim couldn't help the moan that filled the room when the person behind him licked at the back of his neck, lightly scraping their teeth against the spot, pressing their lower bodies together even more firmly. Jim brought his arm back, trailing his fingers over the other person's waist, stroking over the strong arm and tangling his fingers with his bedmate's. This was possibly the best dream ever.

There was a gasp from behind him.

"Dr. McCoy to Captain Kirk."

"Aaa-choo!"

Jim's eyes flew open in horror and then slammed shut in humiliating realization as Spock jerked away, scrambling of the bed. His mattress dipped, there was the rush of feet against the carpet, and he heard the door of their shared bathroom whoosh open and closed.

"Kirk here," Jim croaked, flopping onto his back.

"Lieutenant Jefferies from Gamma paged me, Jim. Are you planning on going to work today?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. I'll be there in fifteen. Kirk out."

Spock. Oh Jesus, he had… they had… but how? Why would Spock come into his room while he was asleep? Jim gave his cock a dirty look as it grew harder. He bit his lip and shivered, remembering Spock's mouth on him, the feel of Spock's cock as it pressed against his body. Jim shuddered, wrapping his fingers around himself.

He watched as a clear drop of fluid welled up from the slit. Jim rubbed his thumb over it, spreading it around, changing his grip so that he could start stroking properly, legs spread, feet braced against the mattress as he tilted his pelvis up. His eyes drifted closed as he once again remembered how Spock's hips had moved with the horse, rocking with an unconscious grace, the muscle memory of Spock's body against his. How Spock looked with rivulets of rain on his pale skin that just begged for Jim's lips to taste, to lick up the water from his body, Imagining Spock's hands pulling him closely as Jim kissed up his chin, finally moving so that their lips….

"Captain."

Jim almost wrenched his neck turning to look around his quarters. No one was there. He had been so intent on his fantasy that hadn't even heard his communicator beep.

"Yeah, Spock?" His moved his hand so that he could lick his palm, shuddering again when he touched his dick, tightening his hold and firmly stroking.

"I request that you allow my beta shift science officer, Ensign Kim, work as my replacement for my Shift. I am... unwell."

Jim listened to Spock's voice, biting his lip and trying to remain silent as he tightened his grip. "Negative. I thought Vulcans didn't feel embarrassment, Spock?"

There was a spluttering sound over the communicator.

Jim smirked, biting his lip and trying to sound like he wasn't gasping for breath. "Sorry, Commander. I need you on the Bridge. See you in ten."

"Acknowledged." God, Spock sounded so pissed, the word bitten off and the communication ending almost before the last syllable finished. Jim felt the pressure in his balls, the tension in his leg muscles, and let go, watching each spurt as it shot up into the air, landing on his stomach and the back of his hand.

As he cleaned up, Jim grinned to himself again. Spock wanted to sneak into his Captain's quarters? Fine. And he had every right to change his mind, although his running out of here had been a surprise. But Spock could deal with the situation, not try to hide out in his room because the morning hadn't gone quite like he thought it would. And he called him infantile. Jim took a quick sonic shower and dressed.

Jim wasn't surprised to hear that he was whistling a little under his breath as he made his way to the Bridge.

When the turbolift's doors flew open, Jim smiled to see Spock seated at his Science station, back ramrod straight.

"Good morning, guys! Sorry, Lieutenant. You're relieved."

"Thank you, Captain. Have a good morning, Captain."

Jim made his way to his chair, sprawling as usual. "Lieutenant Sulu, how close are we to our destination?"

"Four hours, sir. Um, and twenty-one minutes."

"Commander Spock! Anything to report?" Jim ignored Uhura's raised eyebrow at the way he practically purred his question. Her glare was a little harder to ignore, but he managed.

"No, sir." His voice was quiet, restrained.

"Sulu, increase to warp five, please. I'd like to get this show on the road. Oh, hello Yeoman Rand. And how are you on this beautiful morning?" Jim turned in his chair to grin at the solemn-faced yeoman. Rand had been with Pike for years, but Spock had recommended that Jim try to get her assigned to the Enterprise, commenting that "For a Human, she is quite competently efficient." Which, for Spock was practically hearts and rainbows on bended knee.

"Fantastic, Sir. Please read though and sign these."

"Awesome! I love paperwork. Don't you love paperwork, Yeoman?"

"Yes, sir. It gives my life meaning and purpose." She didn't even crack a smile. Jim wasn't actually positive that she knew how to smile, but Jim persevered.

Okay, Rand was kind of scary. Jim smiled at her (the smile Jim personally thought of as his panty-melter smile) and just to be an asshole, looked over at Spock's station and beamed at his back. He caught Spock glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, and his grin changed into a knowing smirk. Spock turned in his chair, back even more ramrod straight, tips of his ears slightly green.

"Right, Yeoman. Thanks. I'll get these back to you... well. Sometime."

"As specific as ever, sir." She turned and walked off.

Jim looked down at his PADD and felt the smirk drain off of his face. A miniature-sized Q was in the tiny viewscreen, staring blandly back up at him.

"Hello there, Mon Capitán."

Jim looked around wildly. No one reacted to the mocking voice. His crew was still bent studiously over their individual tasks, busy.

"Did you have a good evening? How about a good morning? Oh, don't worry. They can't hear you."

Jim's hand tightened on the PADD. "Why are you doing this? I don't understand what we could have possibly done to you to deserve this."

Q rolled his eyes, moving his hands in little circles. "Oh, blah blah blah. I swear, you're as bad as Jean-Luc. Why is this happening? What is going on? Why did my crew have to die?"

Jim froze for a moment. Die? Adrenaline spiked, sending his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He glared down at the little screen. "You better not fuck with my crew. Or my ship."

Q looked bored. "Or what? You'll pout at me? You do have the lips for it." Q made a little pouty face. Jim wanted to punch him. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not interested in hurting anyone."

"What about the horse? Or Spock's cold?"

Q sniffed. "Those are called plot devices you ill-mannered Neanderthal. From Serious Pieces of Literature. And I got rid of the horse when your face started to swell." His fists came down to rest on his hips. "How about a thank you for all my efforts?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jim shook his head, eyes narrowing even further. There was a disgusted sound from the PADD and a miniature flash of light, signifying Q's departure.

Jim frowned at the small device. That was… quite unhelpful. Q expected gratitude? A very small, almost completely muffled 'aaa-choo!' from Spock's station reminded him that he couldn't spend the rest of his shift….

Oh. Ohhh shit.

Jim's eyes closed. He could feel the blood drain away from his face. Q's words seemed to slam into him with the force of a phaser. Spock hadn't tiptoed into Jim's quarters in the middle of the night. Of course he hadn't. There would be a higher likelihood of Scotty quitting Engineering and taking up a career in interpretive dance. Waking up together had been orchestrated by Q. And Jim had… he had…. Jim bit his lip, feeling his throat tighten, remembering the way he had spoken to Spock. What he had said. How he had said it.

"Commander Spock." Jim sounded like he had been gargling ground glass.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Contact Ensign Kim. You are off duty, as of now." Spock opened his mouth, and Jim barked out, "That's an order, Commander."

Spock nodded, stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned to face Jim, focusing on something slightly above his left shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak again, and Jim forestalled him, too ashamed to actually look him in the eye. "Just go get some rest. Stop and see Bones. I don't know if he can cure you or not, but he can help with some of the symptoms."

Spock didn't speak to him as he walked to the turbolift.

Jim wanted to beat his head against the back of his chair. He stared at the PADD, more than a little nervous about picking it up again in case any other meddlesome aliens wanted to screw around with him. He typed in his code with the stylus and began working on the backlog of reports, signing off where he needed to. Jim forced himself to not think about Spock and to complete his work.

An hour later, Jim sent a message to Uhura.

So, Spock sounded a little under the weather.

What did you do to him? And what the hell was that all about yesterday? When I accused you of banging farm animals, I never for an instant thought you would have… ya know... costumed accompaniment.

Even the tone of her typing was sarcastic. Jim rolled his eyes.

Ha. Ha-ha-haa. This is me laughing. Maybe you should go check on Spock to see if he's… okay?

There were a few minutes of silence. Jim felt the back of his neck redden as Uhura's gaze burned into him.

Captain, with all due respect, are you fucking kidding me?! I'm not sure what you did here, or what angle you're after but if you screwed up you need to go fix it.

I could make it an order, Lieutenant.

Yes you could. But I know where you sleep.

Right then.

"Sulu, you have the con. I'm going to try to cut out some of this paperwork. Let me know when we get to Planet Fanboy."

"Planet. . . Fanboy? Sir?"

Jim shook his head. "Gohldar IV. Sorry." He got up, grabbed the PADD and hustled to the turbolift.

He paced in his quarters for at least ten minutes before he worked up the courage to go over to Spock's.

"Spock?"

There was no answer. Was he sleeping? Ignoring him? Plotting homicide? Jim huffed out a breath and keyed in his override, stepping quickly inside before he could change his mind.

Jim had never been in Spock's quarters before. He knew them to be almost the mirror of his, with a sleeping area separated by a small partition. Where Jim had a small table set up for dining, Spock had what was clearly a workstation set up for . . . well, working. The lighting was red, and fairly dim. Jim could see various weapons displayed prominently on the walls. All of them looked sharp, and Jim had absolutely no doubt that Spock could use each and every one of them.

The heat of Spock's quarters was like a physical slap to the face. Jim felt his uniforms sticking to him with sweat as he took a step inside. He turned towards the sleeping area and bit his lip at what he saw there. Spock lay on his side, curled slightly in on himself. He was facing away from the door, so Jim couldn't tell if he were sleeping or not. Spock was bundled into heavy blankets so that only the very top of his head and one pointed ear stuck out of the covers.

"What do you want?"

"Uh. I was just checking on you. Do you need anything? Are you feeling okay?"

There was a rustle of the covers. Spock's voice was muffled when he answered. "Captain, as I have explained numerous times, Vulcans do not 'feel'."

"Ah- right. Look, I'm going to go in there, okay?" Jim ran his hand through his sweaty hair and took the few steps necessary to take him to the foot of Spock's bed. He sat down uninvited and could practically feel Spock's body vibrate with sudden tension. "And in continuing with my long-standing tradition, I have something else to apologize for. I thought… uh." Jim could feel himself blushing. All at once, he was tremendously glad that Spock wasn't actually facing him. "I thought you had sneaked into my room. This morning. Um, I mean. That you wanted to be there. With me. And err... the way I acted after was, ah, shitty. That is to say, I acted like an idiot. When Q told me that he made us wake up together and I—"

Jim broke off when he felt Spock's hand clamp down on his wrist. His mind slid into blessed, staticy blankness for a moment. Spock's hand felt as though it would brand him as his long fingers closed around Jim's skin, sliding a little on the sweat that had not been captured by his uniform.

"That being contacted you? Without my presence?"

"Uh…" He swallowed hard, remembering all at once how those fingers had felt wrapped around him, sliding against his cock.

Spock sat up, the blankets falling away. His grip tightened slightly on Jim's wrist. Spock had removed his blue uniform shirt and was suddenly way too close, glaring slightly at Jim's too-wide eyes. His regulation blacks made his face seem eerily pale, especially backlit as it was by the red light of his quarters. "Explain."

He let go of Jim's wrist. Jim edged away from him slowly, backing away from Spock as one would from a dangerous animal. His wrist didn't hurt, but Jim could still feel the imprint of Spock's grip.

"He just appeared while I was on the bridge. In my PADD. He insulted me a few times, pointed out that he could kill all of us if he wished, then left in a huff."

Spock tilted his head, as though thinking about this. "Your apology is unnecessary. You did not answer my previous query. Why exactly are you here?"

Jim winced. "I know you don't want my apology, but that's part of why I'm here. My mom always would baby me a little when I was sick. I guess I thought…" He broke off and picked absently at the sheets on Spock's bed.

"Baby you?"

"You know, bring soup, tuck you in... that sort of thing?"

"Ah. You are referring to physical demonstrations of emotion. Caring. I fail to see the logic in you performing such an activity for myself."

Okay so he deserved that. But it still hurt. "Oh." Jim turned to move off of the bed. "Right. I'll uh... just go. We'll be in orbit soon, anyway. I should be on the Bridge."

"Jim."

Jim froze, turning his neck to meet Spock's gaze. He could count on one hand the number of times Spock had used his name. He felt his heart give a strange sort of flutter.

"Some soup would be nutritionally satisfying."

Jim started to grin, until the blinding white light filled his vision.

***

His senses were so bombarded that it took Jim a moment to process the difference. Driving, pounding music surrounded him. He could feel the floor vibrate, and his ears rang with the pulsing beat. He opened his eyes to see Spock standing there, looking around. Jim couldn't hear Spock's words, but his lips clearly formed the word 'fascinating'.

Fascinating was one word. Orgasmic might be another. Jim knew he was standing there like a complete idiot, mouth open eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he wondered what the fuck Q was thinking. In the next moment he wanted to perhaps compose him an ode or build a shrine of some sort.

Spock was turned in profile as he watched the writhing throng of dancers. Jim's gaze zeroed in on Spock's body. His chest was bare except for what looked like … glitter. He could see everything Spock had modestly hidden from him in the rain, and his eyes flicked over his skin like a starving man's at a feast. His thin body was extremely well defined, showing how deceptive the slight frame was in proportion to the hidden strength within. Jim's eyes moved down his torso, catching on his slightly protruding hipbones. Spock's long legs were encased in leather trousers that left very little to Jim's imagination. His brain stuttered a little as he saw how low-cut they were, the lacings in the front stretching over the bulge encased there. The back of the trousers did things to Spock's ass that were probably illegal in several star systems. Boots came up to just under his knee. Jim looked down at himself to see that he was wearing the exact same thing.

Someone standing behind him slammed into him, sending Jim reeling towards Spock. He felt Spock's hands curl around his upper arms, catching him from falling. Jim couldn't read the expression on Spock's face, but when their eyes met he felt the jolt to his toes.

Spock was wearing eyeliner, smudged just a little near the corners of his eyes.

Jim felt like whimpering.

Someone jostled him again as the music changed and Jim realized that Spock was… dancing. His body moved to the pounding music as though he had been clubbing every day of his life. Spock pulled Jim nearer to his body, letting go of him completely. The expression on his face changed to one of challenge.

Jim smirked, the floundering feeling disappearing. They moved together perfectly, twisting their bodies around each other, keeping just enough space between them to emphasize how close they actually were. How little it would take to touch. Spock's gaze didn't waver from Jim's half-lidded one.

Jim lost track of time, losing himself in the pounding music and sensual movement. Jim kept flirting with that scant inch or so of space, moving closer, and then back, thrusting and gyrating. He was half-hard already, and so lost in the moment that when he brushed their pelvises together he could hear himself groan over the pounding music. He licked his lips and smirked, daring Spock to react.

The room tilted crazily as Jim was spun around, Spock's hands sliding on the sweat-slick skin of his hips as he pulled their bodies together. One of Spock's arms tightened around Jim's chest, while his other hand kept his hips pinned against Spock's front. Jim moved against him, twitching and shaking his ass, pressing closer and away, thrusting back against Spock, feeling his cock through two pairs of leather trousers. Spock's hands moved to Jim's thighs, fingers splayed, pressing against the muscle, moving Jim's body in synch with his.

Jim brought one of his arms down to adjust himself and felt Spock's grip on his wrist again, stopping him. Spock was curled around his back, breath hot against his ear, and this time Jim could distinctly hear the low growl. He could feel it, vibrating against his back. Jim's world tilted crazily again and he was being yanked along behind Spock, watching dazedly as Spock wove gracefully through the assembled throng of dancers, his grip bruising as Jim scrambled to keep up.

When the blindingly white light appeared, Jim thought for a moment that it was just another strobe light. Until he focused on the corridor of the Enterprise.

Spock stopped so suddenly that Jim almost stepped into him. Jim jerked his arm out of Spock's grasp. They stared at each other for a moment, not noticing a pair of Ensigns who were staring at the two of them so hard they actually walked directly into the bulkhead behind them.

Spock was staring at him, a muscle in his jaw clenching over and over. He turned without a word and disappeared into his quarters.

Jim realized he was shaking from delayed reaction. He was so turned on that it hurt to walk, the tight leather he was wearing providing pressure and friction as he took one step, then another towards his own door. He leaned against the wall for a moment, still breathing heavily, the sweat on his body cooling uncomfortably in the drastic temperature change of his room. He wanted to walk over to Spock's room. Fifteen steps, twenty at most and he would be standing in their shared bathroom…

"Captain Kirk. We'll be in orbit of Gohldar IV in approximately a half an hour." Sulu's voice jarred him out of his thoughts. Jim lowered the foot he had raised in preparation to take that first step. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.

"Thanks Sulu. I'll be there in a minute."

He looked down at himself. The glittery paint had smudged over everything. He was going to have to take another shower. He couldn't greet the Gohlarians like this. Fully aware of the irony of the situation, Jim walked towards the bathroom.

His hands were on his hips to unlace lacings when he realized that he was not alone in the room. Jim's head jerked up so quickly that little droplets of sweat flew off of the back of his neck. Spock had the tiniest of smirks on his face.

"We're on duty, you know."

"Negative. I was ordered off of my station for the duration of my shift. You are on duty." Spock paused, tilting his head. "I find that I do not particularly care."

Jim found himself backed up against the bulkhead. He forgot to breathe when he felt Spock's hand reach out to grip his jaw. Spock's thumb rubbed lightly over the spot just under Jim's eye, coming away smudged with black.

"What is this substance?" Spock tilted his body so that his leg was between Jim's.

"It's eyeliner." Jim's voice was breathy.

"It makes your eyes even more aesthetically pleasing." Those eyes drifted shut as Spock leaned over his face. Spock tilted his leg up so that the strong muscles in his thigh rubbed against Jim's cock. He couldn't believe this, that Spock was so aggressively going after what he wanted. That what Spock wanted was Jim. He reached out his hands, sliding them against Spock's back, curling his fingers so that they cupped the cheeks of his ass, pulling him closer against his body. Spock made a sharp sound in the back of his throat at Jim's touch.

"Open your eyes, Jim."

Jim's eyes snapped open. Spock's hand slid across his cheekbones, brushing the pads of his fingers over his lips. Jim's mouth opened automatically, sucking in the tip of Spock's pointer finger. That sound came again, going directly to Jim's cock. He thrust a little against Spock.

"You're sure you want to do this?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Jim watched Spock's eyes darken.

"This Q being has put us into several situations designed to spark a feeling of sexual awareness." Spock bent again, tasting the sweat from Jim's shoulder.

"So, you think that if we fuck he'll go away?"

"Affirmative."

"That's ah… quite logical." Jim licked at Spock's finger, then moaned when he felt Spock fasten his lips to his shoulder and suck, sliding his lips up Jim's collar bone, his neck and up to just under his ear. Jim tightened his hands over the leather-class ass, moving his fingers down and pressing their lower bodies even harder together.

Spock moved his hands, settling them at Jim's waist for just a moment before pulling at the fastenings. Jim heard the fabric rip, crying out when Spock's hot fingers curled around him again. His head hit the back of the wall as he froze, his whole being concentrating on Spock's hand.

"You…pleasured yourself while thinking of me." Spock's hot breath was against his ear, sending shivers down Jim's spine at the sensation. He bit the earlobe, and tightened his hand into a fist, starting a light, teasing stroke.

What? Oh, touch-telepathy. Jim's eyes narrowed and he projected images as strong as he could. Him on his knees in front of Spock. The bottle of lube in the drawer next to his bed. What he looked like, shooting come into the air and over his fist, what it felt like to have his head still ringing from the orgasm, hearing Spock speaking over the communicator.

Spock hissed and pushed Jim away, turning and taking the two steps needed to rummage into the drawer on the nightstand, back next to Jim in mere seconds. Jim found his wrists pinned to the wall with one steely grip, holding him so that his arms were stretched just this side of uncomfortable. The feel of the cold lube in contrast with the heat of Spock's hand and the heat of Jim's flesh caused him to cry out again, feeling the slippery slickness of Spock's grip as he started fisting him, moving back and forth quickly, turning his wrist just slightly to change the grip as his fingers moved over the head. Jim pulled at his wrists, but Spock just pressed his whole body against him, his cock still hidden behind the leather, the shape clearly discernable.

"Let me... I want to touch you." Jim whined, standing up on his tiptoes to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists. Spock just moved his grip, sliding Jim up the wall, speeding up the movements of his hand. Jim became aware of Spock's hips, thrusting into his. The feel of Spock so hard for him, and Jim knowing that he couldn't touch, turned him on even more. He began to move against Spock's hand, thrusting into the slippery tightness. Jim stretched his neck so that he could kiss Spock, their lips touching for the first time, breath and saliva mixing. Spock's mouth was hot, and Jim couldn't get enough of it. The feel of Spock's mouth moving over his, the feel of Spock thrusting into him, the feel of Spock's hand sliding over him all swirled together for a minute, sending Jim into sensory overload. He could feel his cock jerking in Spock's tight grip as he began to come, moaning and thrashing his head from side to side, unable to move any other part of his body, pinned as he was to the wall.

Spock grunted, his slippery hand moving to Jim's hip, turning his body so that his hard cock lined up with Jim's softening one. Jim heard that sound again- the sharp, barely discernable sound of want- in the back of Spock's throat. He pulled at his arms, but Spock still would not release him, so he raised his legs to wrap them around Spock's waist, arching against him. Jim continued to kiss him, sliding their tongues together as he licked at Spock's mouth. Come on Spock come for me now, let go just do it, do it doitdoit… now! until he felt Spock freeze for a moment, arching into Jim's body and shuddering against him.

 

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PART THREE

 

Comments

[twinsarein.livejournal.com]

Holy crap! Funny as all get out and that matched that in hotness. I laughed out loud several times during this, and then the end scene - with Kirk held to the wall and then him taking advantage of the telepathy to make Spock come...Unf!!

[1lostone.livejournal.com]

Kirk is a crafty guy. I think he would have picked up on that immediately! hehe heh