kowaiyoukai (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kowaiyoukai) wrote2009-06-20 03:40 pm
kowaiyoukai) wrote2009-06-20 03:40 pm
Entry tags:
Star Trek: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 5), eventual Kirk/Spock, Spock/Uhura, NC-17
Title: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 5)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kowaiyoukai
Rating: NC-17 (for this part. It is SO NOT what you think.)
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 8,498 (for this part)
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment:siriuslyyellow
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: So, just FYI, each chapter is meant to cover one week's time. I'm going to re-name each chapter accordingly, because I'm sick and tired of finding interesting ways to add the date in each scene. *headdesk* For those of you somewhat good at math, you'll notice that means there will be at least 24 chapters--one for each week during six months, y/y? I'm rounding, people. Sue me. Also, you might notice I've added bits of TOS canon in. Nothing major, so don't worry if you've only seen XI. But without good reason not to include some things, it seemed like certain events would have played out fairly similarly in the Abramsverse as in TOS. *shrugs*
EDIT: On 06/20/09, I changed the pieces in the chess game because I'm a moron and forgot that a castle and rook were the same piece and that it's really called a rook. Thanksjedibuttercup and shatfat for pointing this out to me! ♥ I always call it a castle when I play, but I'll keep it correct for the fic anyway. It doesn't affect the story really at all, but it's a change nonetheless.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
The first time Jim realized he was attracted to Spock was when the Vulcan had him bent over backwards, attempting to strangle him. Jim knew he had asked for it. He knew it was important for some mysterious reason that Spock's command ended. And he in no way took any pleasure from bringing up the tragedies that he knew were still causing Spock pain. He had, however, taken plenty of pleasure from watching Spock's eyes narrow, his face contort, his breath come in short gasps, and his arm stretch quickly towards him powerfully, surely, with obvious intent. It was then that Jim knew Spock was damn hot, and he had no problems accepting that and moving on without acting on it. He hadn't realized it actually meant anything. God knew that Jim had more than his fair share of fantasies involving everyone he had ever met. He never acted on the vast majority of them.
When he had first met Uhura, in the bar before he had even seriously thought about joining Starfleet, Jim had her naked and writhing under him before he had even spoken to her. She was hot in a way that a lot of people didn't understand, which only made her even hotter. Strong women, chicks who knew what they wanted and took it, they were sexy as all shit. Jim could tell that was who she was even from watching her across the room. She walked confidently, smiled as though she didn't care who saw and judged her for it, and obviously she fit in with the bar crowd with no worries. Jim could see her, easily, both ordering him and begging him for it, and he was half-convinced it was a sure thing before he spoke to her and realized there was just no way.
He had met McCoy the next day, and damn, damn, McCoy was a fine-looking man. Jim didn't mind imagining guys—it was only his imagination, after all, it didn't mean anything—and it was easy to imagine McCoy shirtless and wet—he'd be hotter wet, everyone was hotter wet. His handshake had been firm, a grip so tight that Jim immediately wondered what it would be like when put to better use. Sure, his eyes had been kind of wild and all over the place, and he had been half-crazed from delusional worry about space diseases, but he pulled off the rugged thing so well that Jim had to give him credit. Then he had gotten to know McCoy, had gotten to respect him and value their friendship and even love him in a certain way, and suddenly it didn't matter how hot McCoy was because he had grown to be a lot more than his looks.
Admiral Pike had been another story entirely. He was older, sure, but that didn't mean he wasn't attractive in his own way. He had power—authority that came from knowing how to get what he wanted when he wanted it, along with the confidence to back it up. Jim could easily see how that would translate well, plus the fact that he was older meant he had more experience. He probably knew how to make it last and feel amazing the whole way, unlike some girls Jim had been with who thought lying there taking it was enough. Pike would be different. Still, when Jim thought of him, he remembered that he hadn't wanted to be pushed to his limits or challenged. He had wanted to lie around and do nothing his whole life. But Pike had forced him to be something more than he had ever thought he could be, and that had made him off-limits because he was the only person in Jim's life who had ever looked at him and seen more than a fuck-up.
Most people looked at him and thought he was only a fuck-up. Galia had been one of those people. She was hot and she knew it, which was often a turn-off for him, but girls from Orion were crazy in bed. That was all the convincing he needed. He would have gone all the way, too, even knowing she'd slept around probably more than he had, but then Uhura had interrupted them. It had probably been for the best. He knew he was never going to be more than a story she sometimes told when she was drunk, and at that point he was getting sick and tired of being that guy. But in his head, sure, why not, he went all the way with her. And all that sleeping around had paid off because damn. She'd been good.
Chekov was a weird one for Jim, and not just because of his accent. He was young, almost illegal young, but of course that didn't matter for his purposes. But no matter how hard he tried, Jim couldn't imagine Chekov as anything other than a virgin. He knew that at seventeen it could reasonably go either way, but for some reason Chekov's bright eager face had Jim thinking that he hadn't had a dirty thought in his life. Obviously that was impossible, but when he imagined it, he thought of Chekov's surprise at every new sensation, at his embarrassment turning slowly to delight. He could picture Chekov wriggling uncomfortably at first, unprepared and unsure, but eventually relaxing under Jim's careful and experienced guidance.
Now Scotty, he was fun. He was always over-excited, throwing his hands around and shouting randomly to anyone who would listen. There was a guy who would be a great lay. That enthusiasm would be amazing to have, either way. In fact, Jim had a vivid image of Scotty riding him, thrusting himself repeatedly onto Jim, eagerly grabbing at Jim's face and hair and shoulders and daring him to do more and faster and better. He would be wild in bed, of that Jim had no doubt at all. Of course he was a talented engineer, and that just made Jim think that Scotty knew how things worked. He'd probably be able to invent a new position every time they tried. Plus, for some reason Jim couldn't get the image out of his head of Scotty screaming, "I'm giving it all I've got, Captain!" That alone would be worth it.
Jim had absolutely no control over where his mind went, which was really clear when he started thinking about Nero. The man was half-psychotic, a genocidal mass murderer, and Jim would never consider actually touching him. But, for the sake of argument, he figured that kind of rage and psychosis could be a-fucking-mazing in bed. Sure, it wasn't morally appropriate, but that didn't seem to stop him from thinking about it. He had so much hate in him, so much anger and disappointment and frustration, Jim was sure the sex would be so rough it'd have to be called violent. He'd never actually had violent sex before, but he could see Nero chaining him up—he'd be naked, of course, otherwise what was the point, really—and fucking him senseless, fucking him blind, making him scream and come without giving him a chance to do anything other than beg for more. Still, it was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Then there was Sulu. Sulu, who seemed so together and polite. It was instantaneous with him, for some reason. Without any trouble or preparation at all, Jim imagined Sulu coming hard, moaning and moving underneath him desperately, wantonly. Sulu was so quiet all the time, so tense and on alert, waiting for something to happen. Jim knew he could be that something. He could have Sulu begging for it in seconds, he just knew it. And no doubt he would make the most interesting sounds. Sulu was always focused on work, and he was good at his job, one of the best, but Jim knew all of that tension was bound to need release. Besides, everyone knew it was always the quiet ones who changed the most in bed. The most straight-laced, controlled people were the ones who really went to extremes when they let themselves go.
Of course, that thought led Jim back to the most straight-laced, controlled person he had ever met, and the mere thought of how wild and fucking hot Spock would be forced Jim to have a lie down. More than any of the others, Jim thought Spock would be the best in bed. He was as confident and strong as Uhura, as hot and close to him (or getting there, anyway) as McCoy, as authoritative as Pike, as eager to learn as Chekov, as fun (in a different way, sure, but still) as Scotty, almost as filled with anger and frustration as Nero, and as self-possessed as Sulu. Plus, he wasn't anything at all like Galia. Spock was the perfect combination for amazing sex, and it was a fucking shame that Jim could imagine it but could never see it actually happening in reality.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Usually the gym was half-empty, since the majority of the crew preferred to relax after work rather than exercise. Still, Jim was used to having a few people around to spar with, and most of them were more than a little happy to have the opportunity to knock their Captain on his ass. Jim couldn't really blame them—if their positions were switched, he was sure he'd love the chance to one-up Admiral Pike or any of the board members.
Today, though, the gym was even emptier than usual. There were two guys from Engineering lifting weights, three girls practicing a variant of judo, and five other crew members in solo activities—running, biking, jumping rope, yoga, and what looked like a variant form of ancient Eastern meditation.
Jim had come in the hopes of working out some energy. He had felt restless all day for no reason he could pin down. Everyone had been working with more efficiency than they usually did, which would normally have been cause for excitement. But he had noticed Uhura staring at Spock a lot, more than she ever had before, and it got Jim thinking about the reasons why she'd be staring at him so much, and all of those reasons had Jim feeling worried and cranky.
He knew he should be happy for his First Officer. Friends were supposed to be happy for each other when romantic shit worked out, weren't they? Of course they were. It was obvious. Yet Jim wasn't able to muster up any kind of positive feelings for Spock. The last he had heard, Spock hadn't really wanted to be involved with Uhura. But that had been a month ago. Things changed in a month. Maybe Spock had realized he had a good thing and didn't want to jeopardize it.
Jim walked up to the punching bag, which was thankfully unused at the moment, and reached for the pair of gloves that was next to it. He put them on, making sure his hands and fingers were protected before he started. The last thing he needed was a broken wrist from not taking the right precautions.
He had been working out for almost ten minutes when he first realized someone was watching him. He stopped, holding the punching bag for a moment to make sure it stopped and wouldn't hit him upside the head when he turned, and looked over to see Scotty standing there. Disappointment ran through him, sharp and instant, and Jim pushed it aside. Scotty was a good friend, too. There was no reason to be disappointed.
"Scotty," Jim said, nodding. "What's up?"
"Just thought you'd like to know that I found a way to increase her maximum speed," Scotty said in a highly self-congratulatory manner. "We can travel five parsecs in the time it used to take us to travel four."
"Sounds good," Jim replied. He walked over and gave Scotty a high-five. "That's why I keep you around."
"And the jokes," Scotty added. "Everyone loves the jokes."
"You know, not so much," Jim replied, grinning. "They get in the way of work. I think you're banned from joking from now on."
Scotty tilted his head, considering. "I'm not sure exactly where in the regulations it says you can't joke around."
"Oh, it's in there," Jim said. "Believe me. I've read the whole thing."
"I'm sure you have, sir," Scotty said. "That's why you're the Captain."
Jim shook his head, both amused at and proud of his Chief Engineer, and that little movement allowed him to see Spock, at the edge of his vision, in the far corner practicing some form of hand-to-hand Jim had never seen before. He was going through the motions slowly, each gesture practiced and refined, confident, powerful.
"When did he get here?" Jim asked, tilting his head towards Spock.
"Who, Spock?" Scotty asked. He shrugged. "Beats me. He was here when I got here."
"Oh," Jim said, floundering. It seemed incredibly hard to believe that Spock could have been here for a few minutes and Jim wouldn't have noticed him. For no reason at all, he felt as though he should have some kind of sixth sense about when Spock entered a room. There was a feeling the air got, a quiet comfort that only Spock gave off, and Jim had never failed to notice it before. It was ridiculous, of course. Spock was just a person like everybody else. There was no reason to expect him to stand out, even considering their friendship.
He wondered if Spock had seen him, when he had first entered. If he had, why hadn't he said anything? Had Jim seemed so focused that Spock hadn't wanted to bother him? Maybe. After all, he hadn't noticed Scotty when he had been standing right there. But that wasn't like Spock. Usually he would at least say hi or nod or make some kind of gesture that let Jim know he was there.
Maybe he had done something like that and Jim had been so intent on punching the damn bag that he hadn't noticed. Oh, God. That would suck. Then Jim would have to explain to Spock that he hadn't been ignoring him, that he hadn't even known he was there. But then Spock might take that like he wasn't important to Jim, and that was so not the case but Jim wasn't about to go trying to explain that. Especially since he didn't know exactly why Spock was important.
Except that he was kind of coming to a roundabout conclusion. Because he'd been watching Spock's hands move, and he was sure the movements were not meant to be as… interesting as they were. And yes, when he was concentrating like that, with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted, Spock looked quite… interesting himself. Surely this was a Vulcan thing, something that Jim would love to ask him about but probably never would, because there was something otherworldly about his movements. They looked natural and yet choreographed, as though Spock was being guided by some unseen force.
Jim wanted to go over and talk to him, but he didn't want to interrupt whatever it was Spock was doing, and anyway he felt like the reason he wanted to go over wasn't a good one. He knew this feeling, had felt it plenty of other times in his life, and he swallowed thickly. When he was alone and letting his imagination go where it wanted, thinking about Spock and sex was one thing. When he was in public, it was entirely different. He wasn't supposed to get this... interested from simply watching Spock perform what was most likely Vulcan meditation or a physical ritual. It wasn't even like Spock was half-naked or wet or anything. He was fully clothed, in sweats and a long-sleeve cloth shirt, and it was obvious he looked pretty much how he normally did since nobody else was staring at him stupidly.
Plus, Spock was a guy. Jim didn't do guys. At least, he thought he didn't. There'd been thoughts, of course. Who didn't have thoughts sometimes? But he'd never acted on them. He could joke about it, sure, why not? And he had no problem with it—as long as it was other people who were doing it. But he'd always remember his step-father's disapproval, and his own discomfort, and girls were just as hot as guys, if not more so. Why take the risk? What could be gained, from getting with a guy, that couldn't be had a thousand times easier with a chick?
There was no good reason to take that kind of chance. At all. So what if he sometimes thought about it? He sometimes thought about sex with everybody. It didn't have to mean anything. Besides, Spock was his First Officer and the best friend he'd made since McCoy. That made the whole idea ten thousand times worse. Things could go horribly wrong, and it wouldn't be worth it for a quick lay, no matter how hot Jim thought it could be.
On top of all that, there was the one most obvious factor. It was Spock. Spock. The man took everything seriously. He was a Vulcan—logical to a fault and compelled to push down his emotions at all times. Jim couldn't even begin to fathom just how bad of an idea it would be to try and get with Spock. He wouldn't be into experimenting. He wouldn't want to see how it was. He'd consider that beneath him, and actually Jim agreed. Spock was an actually decent guy, and not in a creepy way. He was too good a person to agree to a one-off with anyone, much less a superior officer.
So that was it, then. Jim's hormones would have to find someone else to focus on. Spock was off-limits in lots of ways, not the least of which being that he was already dating someone. Jim's mind stuttered, balked at the inclusion of "already," wondered why he'd thought of it in that particular way. It wasn't like he wanted to date Spock. Please. That would be ridiculous.
…Right?
A slap on his arm brought Jim back to Scotty, who was looking at him as if he'd gone insane. "What?" Jim asked, rubbing his arm.
"I've been talking to you for the past five minutes," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "You didn't hear anything, did you?"
"Um… no?" Jim answered, sheepishly.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?" Scotty asked. "I might have important things to say, you know."
"Oh," Jim said, tensing up. "Was it important?"
"Well… no," Scotty admitted with a wave of his hand. "But it could have been important! And that's the point."
"Yeah, okay, fine," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'll listen next time, okay?"
"Sure you will," Scotty replied. "So you want me to get him or what?"
"Huh?" Jim blinked, confused.
"Spock," Scotty explained. "You were just staring at him. You need to talk to him or not?"
"Oh," Jim said, laughing. "Um, yeah, no, I mean, it's okay, sure, you know what? Never mind."
Scotty nodded once, firmly. "Okay. I'm leaving now."
Jim gestured to the gym. "You sure you don't want to stay and work out for a while?"
Scotty glared at him. "I'll have you know I'm in great shape."
Jim grinned. "Hey, I'm just, you know, being a good friend. Letting you know when things get a little…" He trailed off, shaking his hand in the air and pursing his lips together, crinkling his nose.
"Oh, thanks," Scotty said. "Let's see who beams you up next time you end up on an arctic wasteland."
"It's love, Scotty," Jim said, sincerely. "It's all love."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spock had spent the afternoon meditating, which was both relaxing and rejuvenating. He had noticed Jim when he had first entered the gymnasium, but he had been thoroughly engaged in an exercise routine and Spock did not want to interrupt him. Besides, Spock had to make an effort not to think about Jim as much as he had been. Uhura had asked him to do so, and Spock did not want to give up without even making an attempt.
When he had left, Jim had been in the corridor immediately outside the door, which was strange considering Spock thought he would have already been back in his quarters by then. Jim had asked if Spock wanted to hang out that night, and Spock declined because he already had plans with Uhura. Jim had made allusions to hanging out another time and left.
Spock did not entirely understand the human concept of "hanging out". It was, apparently, meant to deepen social bonds by performing various types of activities, however occasionally it meant doing nothing while debating on what activity to do. It did not at all mean to literally hang from an object, which had mildly surprised Spock considering Jim's fondness for hanging from things. It was a term humans used frequently, though, and Spock had surmised that his presence was required whenever someone wished to "hang out" with him. This was one slang term he believed he had mastered, and he mentally congratulated himself for his skill in deducing the meaning behind the nonsensical phrase.
Uhura was currently sitting next to him in a recreation room. They were playing a card game that involved collecting similar groups of cards and then putting them down on the table for other players to add on to. It was very similar to many other card games Spock had encountered, and so although he had never played this particular version before, he believed he understood the rules and goal satisfactorily.
"Your turn," Uhura said. She had a habit of saying that any time Spock took more than twenty-two seconds deciding what he should do. It was quite annoying because Spock obviously knew it was his turn and he was clearly considering his options. Reminding him that it was his turn did nothing to assist in playing the game.
"One moment," Spock said, shortly. He eventually decided to add to Uhura's pile of 3's and then pick up two cards before adding to his own pile of 8's and placing down three Kings to start a new pile on his side.
"Shit," Uhura said, frowning at his move.
"Is there a problem?" Spock asked, hesitantly.
"No, it's just…" Uhura rolled her eyes. "I was going to start the Kings. Whatever. It doesn't matter."
"I see," Spock said. This was one of those human things that he wasn't sure how to deal with. Becoming upset during a game was somewhat common among humans, and Spock had to admit that he too often felt frustration when things didn't go his way. However, stating it using those words in that tone of voice was an obvious attempt, perhaps unintentional, to make Spock feel guilty about his actions. He had no desire to feel guilty over a game, but offering to take back his move would no doubt have Uhura protesting that she hadn't been complaining, although she clearly had.
In the same situation, Jim would probably have made a joke out of it. He might have gasped in over-embellished shock, jabbed a finger at Spock and told him he'd better be prepared for vengeance. He might also have clucked his tongue and eyed Spock daringly while he reached out and moved Spock's pile of Kings over to his own side of the table. Spock could imagine several ways Jim would have reacted to the exact same scenario, and they all had him feeling happily indulgent. They would all have encouraged the game to continue, only adding to the overall enjoyment of the experience. What Uhura had done, however, had taken Spock out of the game and made him feel unsatisfied with how it was progressing. Recreational activities should never produce negative feelings. If they did, they weren't performing their intended purpose of relieving stress.
Then Spock remembered he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Jim. He focused on the game once more just in time for Uhura to move impatiently beside him.
"Your turn."
Spock nodded and continued playing, this time with a different goal. He would try to make Uhura happy as opposed to winning. It didn't actually matter to him what the outcome of the game was. However, he had turned down an opportunity to spend time with Jim in order to be here, and if Uhura was not properly satisfied with the evening then his choice to spend his time with her as opposed to Jim would have been for nothing.
After a few more turns, during which time Uhura gained steadily in points while Spock lingered behind, Uhura began to seem unhappy. Spock couldn't figure out the reason behind her attitude, but without knowing the cause he decided the best plan was to continue his actions without change. When the game finally ended with Uhura as the victor, she put her hands on the table and looked at Spock with doubtful eyes.
"Did you throw the game?"
"I do not understand that expression," Spock said, carefully. He assumed she had not meant to ask if he had picked up the game and tossed it across the room. "Would you please rephrase the question?"
"Okay. Did you stop trying to win so that I could win?" Uhura asked. "Did you intentionally lose?"
"No, I did not intentionally lose," Spock said. He wanted to elaborate, to be honest and say that her attitude had caused him to stop trying to win. But he felt as though being honest with Uhura would cause her to get angry. If she became upset, then he would have really botched the intention behind spending time with her. Still, he wasn't particularly keen on lying, either. This was one of those times when Spock was glad humans occasionally asked several questions at once, assuming all the questions were synonymous when they actually were not.
"Really?" Uhura asked.
"I did not intentionally lose," Spock repeated.
"Good," Uhura replied, smiling. "I thought for sure you were letting me win." She shrugged. "Guess I'm just better at this game than you are."
"It would appear that way," Spock stated.
Uhura laughed, delighted. "Wow, beating you at a game that uses logic. That's something."
Spock had no answer to that, so he collected the cards, put them back in their box, and then put the game in the cabinet that contained all of the diversions the room offered.
"Shall I walk you back to your quarters?" Spock asked. It was the right thing to do, after all.
"Oh," Uhura said. "Um, I was kind of hoping that we could spend some more time together."
"I see," Spock said. He turned back to the cabinet. "What else would you like to play?"
"Oh. No," Uhura said, laughing nervously. "That's not what I meant."
"I do not understand," Spock said.
"Yeah, I can see that," Uhura replied. "I meant I was hoping we could spend time together tonight." She paused. "In my room. Or your room." Spock was silent. "It's just that we haven't actually done anything yet. It's been over a month. We haven't even kissed since those first two times."
"I was distracted by other events," Spock said. He did not want to specifically bring up bad memories, but he had no idea about how else to reply.
"I know," Uhura said. "That's why I haven't said anything. But, I mean, after a month, we should be doing something, right?"
"Perhaps Vulcan culture differs more on this subject than I had originally thought," Spock stated. "I was taught there is no time limit on these matters."
"Well, no, of course not," Uhura agreed. "But most people become more intimate sooner than this."
"I am not most people," Spock said, slowly.
"No," Uhura said. "You're not." She shrugged. "All right. You win. We'll wait." Spock didn't reply, unsure how to respond to such a statement. "Will you walk me back to my room anyway?"
"Of course," Spock said. He walked out of the room with Uhura at his side, already worrying that this would become a frequent issue between them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In truth, sex was something Spock rarely thought about. It had been highly inappropriate to speak of intimate acts of any nature on Vulcan. Future bondmates were chosen by the child's parents at an early age, which ensured emotions would never play a part in the process. Yes, there were ways around that. Either of the intended bondmates could engage in kal-if-fee, or they could simply withhold themselves from the other during pon farr. They could mutually agree to part ways amicably and withdraw their claim on each other. They could protest their bonding either in front of a council or their parents. Of course, the very idea of protesting a bondmate was so outrageous to most Vulcans that it hardly ever occurred. Vulcans were notoriously stubborn and unwilling to show weakness. Indicating that you did not feel a connection with your intended bondmate showed both weakness and emotional instability. It simply wasn't done. At least, Spock could not remember the last time he had heard of any bondmates attempting to get out of their arrangement.
He himself had never attempted to get out of his arranged bond. Of course, he had never actually met T'Pring outside of the one time they had first been promised to each other, and she might well be dead along with everyone else Spock had known on Vulcan, outside of his father and the few remaining council members. For all he tried to care, Spock couldn't place any more importance on her life than on everyone else's. Eventually he would find out what had become of her, but it would be a long time before then. They had avoided each other, neither particularly interested in the other, and then he had left to join Starfleet. He hadn't thought of her since then, ever, not even in passing, just as he hadn't thought of her on Vulcan. Spock was Vulcan enough to know that he should show emotional attachment to anyone, but he was also human enough to become emotionally attached only to people he actually saw and interacted with. Overall, the entire bonding process was one he had resigned himself to long ago, and although he might eventually ask to be released from his bond (he was an outcast anyway, what further harm could it do him to attempt to find a better match), he would only do so if he found another person who was a suitable substitute for T'Pring.
Now, though, everything was different. With Vulcan destroyed, many of the survivors had lost their intended bondmates, and all of them had lost the ability to travel back to Vulcan during pon farr. They would find a way around this, he was sure, but it meant that the old traditions had to be abruptly discarded if their species was going to survive. Still, even with that knowledge, Spock was sure Vulcans would continue to reject their emotions. It was their way—it was his way—and it was such a central part of their lives that he couldn't imagine it changing.
That was why he had never thought much about sex. Bonding with someone was more about finding a logical way of dealing with pon farr than entering an emotional relationship. Pon farr itself was shameful, an experience that every Vulcan dreaded going through. Spock had never been through it, most likely thanks to the human blood that filled half of his veins. He hoped he never would. It was regarded as the worst part of a Vulcan's life—when they lost all ability to reason, when logic meant nothing, when the most basic part of their instincts took over and forced them to behave like violent animals. It was never discussed, even among each other. The one and only time Vulcans spoke of pon farr was when they first entered it. Then, a parent would explain what was happening, briefly. Besides that, sex and every other form of physical intimacy were deeply discouraged. Speaking of it was forbidden, and actually showing affection in front of others was so anathema Spock felt sick from thinking about it.
So, thanks to Vulcan culture and the bonding process and pon farr, the idea of sexual orientation had never crossed Spock's mind. If he rarely thought about sex, then he never thought about his own preferences. Intercourse was meant for one purpose—ensuring survival. Either his own survival during pon farr (which, again, he had never been through but he had been taught about it by his father anyway, just in case) or else the survival of their species that came from creating a child. Feelings were not meant to be a part of the situation. No matter how intimate two people became, there was always an invisible line which separated what was acceptable behavior from what was overly emotional and unwanted. All Vulcans had emotions, and they all required emotional release at various times, but it was never as open and welcomed as it was within human society. Spock had seen this enough between his own parents to know it as fact. Emotions were tolerated because they had to be, but they were never enjoyed and they were never welcome in public situations.
This was why he had not appreciated when Uhura had kissed him in the transporter room, with Jim and Scotty right there, watching. In fact, it had disturbed him that she would be so open with affectionate displays. Living among humans had forced Spock to learn tolerance at such displays, but he had never believed he would participate in them. Physical affection, in all its forms, was meant to be private and cherished. It was not meant to be flaunted around for others to gawk at and make judgments upon. Spock knew this was also why he couldn't stand watching Jim flirt with such a large variety of people so publicly. It was an unwanted display that had no merit at all.
Most species did not share the Vulcan distaste for intimacy. Spock was well aware of that, but it didn't change his own opinion. In choosing to become more human and fit in with the people he was currently surrounded by on a daily basis, Spock had chosen to act in ways that felt wrong to him. He was learning to accept behavior from others that seemed strange or unacceptable, yet he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do such things with the ease and frequency that others could. Physical intimacy stood out in this area, especially now that he was involved with Uhura. He did not feel comfortable with her touching him in public, no matter how small the touches were. In fact, the only person Spock did not mind touching him was Jim, but he knew this was because they were good friends. Jim was an anomaly, and one that he knew wouldn't happen again. He had been brought up Vulcan, and though his mother had tried to instill emotional freedom in him, Spock always felt uncomfortable with such intimacies. He thought he always would.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dinner was more or less the same as it always was. Jim was at a table with McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov. He had decided on spaghetti and meatballs—an underappreciated classic. With all of the foreign food that was available thanks to the myriad of planets in the Federation, Jim strongly believed that people should take the time to enjoy traditional meals as well as experimental ones. Besides, what Sulu had chosen was actually moving, wriggling around, and it had small tentacles that seemed to be sparking. There really was no contest, in Jim's book.
"Are you really going to eat that?" Jim asked, eyeing the blue thing hesitantly.
"Of course," Sulu replied. "It's a delicacy in the Gamma Nine system."
"It is?" Jim sounded so disbelieving that McCoy and Chekov started laughing. "What? How can something that moves be a delicacy?"
"Delicacy has always been a fancy word for crap," McCoy stated. "You should know that by now."
"I can't believe you're going to eat that," Jim said, staring at Sulu in fear and wonder. "I'm either impressed or horrified. Maybe both." He paused. "Yep, it's both."
Sulu took a knife and cut a tentacle off. The thing made a high-pitched sound and wriggled a little more forcefully. Jim gagged as Sulu speared the tentacle on his fork and ate it in one quick swallow.
"Oh, God," Chekov said. He pushed his plate away from him and shook his head. "I can't. I think I'm going to be sick."
"Mm," Sulu murmured. He closed his eyes and nodded a few times, sighing. "That is an indescribable delight."
"I'll agree with the indescribable part," Jim said, frowning.
"It's best to eat it quickly. That way, your stomach acid has already killed it before it tries to electrocute you." Sulu cut off another tentacle and ate that one, and Jim decided the best thing to do would be to ignore him and eat his own spaghetti.
Then he actually looked down at his spaghetti and noticed the similarity it had to the tentacles in question. Jim frowned. "Shit, I think you've put me off too," he said, sadly.
"It's truly disgusting," Chekov agreed. "I might not eat for a month."
"Oh, come on," McCoy said. "You people are pathetic. You don't know disgusting until you've tried eating with intestines hanging out of a guy next to you." There was utter silence. "What?"
"Bones, you are a man among men," Jim said, sadly.
"It's easy when I'm among you guys," McCoy replied. He took a bite out of his hamburger and chewed thoughtfully. "I never understood the need to eat that stuff anyway. Do you have any idea the amount of diseases those kinds of foods can give you?"
Jim pulled his spaghetti towards him and decided to go for it. He lost track of the conversation as his eyes drifted around the room. Watching the crew enjoy themselves made Jim feel like he was being a good Captain. Things were still running smoothly, more or less. No disasters had occurred. People were doing their jobs with skill and efficiency. He had no complaints.
Then the doors opened and Spock and Uhura walked in. Jim sat up straighter. They were here. Together. Eating together. That was like a date. Were they on a date? To the mess hall? No, that was ridiculous. But then why were they here? Together?
If Jim had to sit here and watch Spock and Uhura flirt and make googly eyes at each other, he was going to fire someone. Maybe even someone important.
"What are they doing here?" Jim asked. When awkward silence ensued, he realized he had spoken out loud.
"What's who doing here?" Sulu asked, slowly. "There's a lot of people here, Captain."
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Chekov said, quickly. "Friends eat together all the time."
"Who are we talking about?" McCoy asked, blankly. "I missed it in all the vague insinuations."
"Spock and Uhura," Jim explained.
"Well, Jim, they're dating," McCoy said, speaking slowly and clearly. "When two people like each other very much—"
"Yeah, stop now," Jim interrupted. "I just meant, you know, usually Spock eats alone. At night. By himself. Without other people… around."
"You do know we understood what you meant when you said ‘alone,' right?" McCoy asked.
"I think it's a good thing he's eating with her," Sulu said.
"You do?" Jim and Chekov said in the exact same tone at the exact same time. They looked at each other before looking back to Sulu, who was regarding both of them with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," Sulu repeated. "I do."
"Oh," Jim said. "Well, of course. I didn't mean to imply, you know, a bad thing. I just meant that it was kind of weird and all."
"When you're nervous you're even more incoherent than normal," McCoy said, calmly.
"Maybe they'll sit with us," Chekov said, hopefully. He was twirling something orange, and thankfully unmoving, around on his fork. It was probably meat, but Jim was always slightly wary of foreign meat. You just never knew what other cultures considered edible.
"That would be nice," Sulu stated.
Jim waved at Spock and Uhura, immediately hopeful. It would not be the end of the world if they sat alone, of course, but it would somehow make everything ten trillion times better if they joined the rest of what Jim was affectionately calling the bridge group. He knew McCoy wasn't actually stationed on the bridge, but he was there often enough that he counted anyway. Spock and Uhura were part of the bridge group. There was no reason for them to eat alone. Unless, of course, it was a date. But it wasn't a date. There was no way it was a date.
Uhura waved at Jim with a slightly put-out look and then pulled on Spock's arm, dragging him to the opposite side of the room. Spock nodded at Jim and then gestured towards Uhura before following her.
"Looks like they're on a date," McCoy said, without any care at all about how that might sound to an innocent bystander.
"Bones," Jim said, without warning. "You're fired."
"That's nice," McCoy replied.
"They can't be," Chekov said, shooting Jim quick furtive looks that everyone saw. "Anyway, I don't think it's serious. They don't act like they're really dating."
"Maybe they are," Sulu said. "It isn't any of our business either way."
Jim was quiet. Spinning his spaghetti around his fork, he ate it without another comment, once again losing track of the conversation. This time, though, it was intentional. He had no desire to hear speculations on whether Spock and Uhura were dating and how far they had gone and what she was doing to his pointed ears when they were alone at night, naked and pressed against each other, moaning as he—
"Ah!" Jim exclaimed, jumping up from the table so fast he slammed his hip into the edge of it. "Ow!" He dropped back down, curling into himself, rubbing his injured hipbone delicately. "No! Why?"
"Are you okay?" Sulu asked, concerned and obviously confused.
"Yeah, I mean, ow," Jim replied. "I'll be fine."
"Maybe you should stop slamming into inanimate objects," McCoy stated.
"I would if they stopped moving around," Jim said.
"I don't think inanimate objects—" Chekov started.
McCoy interrupted him. "He knows. He's just trying to be funny."
"Oh," Chekov said, nodding slowly.
They finished eating quickly after that, all of them ready to be away from the table that had attacked Jim for reasons unknown. Jim hoped that they wouldn't ask any more questions, but everyone seemed perfectly content to let the matter drop. Which worked perfectly for Jim, since he had no real excuse about why he had suddenly acted like a lunatic in the middle of dinner with half the crew watching. He certainly couldn't say the real reason because the real reason was so ridiculous Jim didn't even believe it himself. In fact, he actually didn't believe it. There had to be another reason why he was so bothered by the idea of Spock and Uhura. It couldn't be what he thought it was.
A few minutes later, Sulu and Chekov gathered their plates and left, most likely to get a rec room before they were all taken. Jim had been rubbing his hipbone off and on for the few minutes, eating his spaghetti intermittently and wondering when Spock was going to look his way.
"Hey," McCoy said, tapping Jim on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Jim said. "Thanks."
"You sure?" McCoy said. "If it hit the wrong way, you're going to walk around like a cripple for a few days."
Jim rolled his eyes. "I'll come by later, if it makes you feel better."
"Hey, I'm just looking out for me," McCoy said. "I don't want to get blamed when the Captain suddenly can't walk straight."
"I said I'll stop by, didn't I?" Jim replied. "So I will."
McCoy looked at Jim and gestured to where Sulu and Chekov had been sitting. "We're playing a game tonight. You coming or not?"
"Yeah," Jim said, quickly. "I'm going to rob you guys blind."
"With what, a pair of twos?" McCoy replied, scoffing.
"You never know," Jim said, confidently. He eyed McCoy with exaggerated interest. "Tonight could be my lucky night."
"Oh God," McCoy said, horrified. "You know what? Don't come by tonight. Maybe your leg'll fall off."
"Don't be like that, baby," Jim said. "You know I love you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Playing chess with Jim was both irritating and incredibly enjoyable. Jim didn't use logic to determine his moves, which meant that Spock found himself constantly guessing what the next twist in the game would be. It lead to an excitement that he hadn't duplicated with anyone else so far, mostly because everyone always tried to beat him using logic, which always failed. Jim had never even tried to beat Spock at his own game, to coin a human phrase, so it was an experience which was an inherently unique puzzle that Jim dared Spock to solve. It was as if, by moving a piece to a location that made no sense, Jim was taunting Spock, daring him to try and figure out what his plan was. Despite himself, Spock enjoyed it very much.
"You're losing," Jim sing-songed.
"I am not losing," Spock replied, snappish. "I am merely adjusting my strategy."
"Is that Vulcan for losing?" Jim asked.
"No," Spock answered.
"I bet it is," Jim said. "For some reason, and I really don't know why this could be, I get the feeling that Vulcans are incredibly sore losers."
"You are right," Spock said.
"Ha," Jim said, triumphantly.
"I do not know why you would think that either," Spock finished.
"Oh, witty, very witty," Jim said, grinning. "But I'm still winning."
"Chess is not a game where the outcome can be determined before the end," Spock said, deliberately being high-handed to watch Jim's reaction.
"I see through this façade," Jim said. "One day, you'll give it up." Jim blushed then, for some mysterious reason, and added, "I meant the façade, not—" He cut himself off. "Never mind."
Spock nodded absently. Jim sometimes confused himself when he spoke. It was becoming a habit to overlook it. He moved a bishop only for Jim to move a rook, and that got Spock seeing the game in an entirely different light. They played in silence for a while. It was comfortable. Spock felt more at home than he had since he had joined the crew of the Enterprise. They were playing in a rec room that had a few other groups of people in it, but somehow the presence of other people didn't detract from Spock's enjoyment of the game. It was strange. When he had been alone with Uhura, he should have felt more comfortable than he did in a room of near-strangers with Jim. It hadn't happened that way, and Spock could not determine why.
Not that he minded. Spock was content to relax with Jim and let himself be pulled into his Captain's frame of mind. As he imagined what moves were going through Jim's head and which one he would pick, Spock felt closer to Jim than he ever had before. This was the first game of chess they had played together, and so the sensation was new and fascinating to him. He fervently hoped Jim would be amenable to future games.
As Spock watched Jim idly finger a knight that he really should not move if he wanted to have any hope of winning, he realized this was what was missing from his relationship with Uhura. A sense of peacefulness and completion that came when two people simply got along well together—he did not have that when he was with Uhura. Spock did not know how to duplicate it with her. He also didn't know how to explain to her what he thought the problem was. He wasn't even sure if she knew there was a problem.
Jim moved the knight and Spock captured it with his queen. Then Jim moved the rook from the other side behind the queen, blocking his escape. Spock focused on the game, moving with deliberate, carefully planned moves, until Jim cornered him with a move that was so illogical Spock hadn't even seen it coming. Literally.
"I do believe that's checkmate," Jim said, happily.
Spock frowned and studied the board. "It would appear so."
"That's because it is so," Jim replied. "Which I told you forty-five minutes ago."
Spock carefully looked over the pieces, wondering how he could have missed the finishing move Jim must have been planning for some time. Jim grinned at him, not mocking but purely friendly, and pointed to a spot on the board.
"I got you there," he said. "You weren't paying attention to this part."
"I paid attention to the entirety of the board," Spock said. Although, in truth, keeping an equal amount of attention on all three levels of the chess board was more difficult against Jim than it had ever been against anyone else. Jim moved erratically, which meant Spock had focused on the areas of the game which had seemed more relevant. "Perhaps you are right," he relented, tilting his head in agreement.
Jim smiled. "You're really good at this."
"As are you," Spock replied. "I have never played a similar game in my entire life."
"Thanks," Jim said. "But I bet that's only because you've been playing the wrong people."
"Apparently," Spock said. He swallowed and continued, "I would very much like to play against you again." He sounded hopeful, and he worried Jim would pick up on it.
Jim only grinned. "Of course." He punched Spock gently in the shoulder, a gesture Spock had already realized was meant to be affectionate in a masculine way. "I'll play any time you want me to."
"Agreed," Spock replied.
"That is, any time you're free," Jim said. "What with Uhura and all."
"Ah," Spock said, surprised. "Lieutenant Uhura and I spend most of our time apart."
In fact, Uhura had asked Spock if he had wanted to do something with her that night, but Spock had told her that he was planning on spending time with Jim. She had been slightly upset, but eventually she understood that Spock wanted to spend time with his friend that night. They had spent the past two days together, mostly, and Spock had been more than ready to see Jim.
"Whatever," Jim said, shrugging. "Just let me know when you want to play."
"I will," Spock said, and he fully intended to.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Othersides 1
Feedback completely makes my day. :D
A/N (Part 2): I CANNOT BELIEVE I WROTE THAT FIRST SCENE. I never thought I would sexualize all of those people. That is all. *headdesk*
A/N (Part 3): So that wasn't all. I'm getting annoyed at putting up this fic on four different comms. Which comm should I update to?![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kirkspock, newtrekslash, startrek2009, or st_reboot?
Author:
kowaiyoukaiRating: NC-17 (for this part. It is SO NOT what you think.)
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 8,498 (for this part)
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment:
siriuslyyellowSummary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: So, just FYI, each chapter is meant to cover one week's time. I'm going to re-name each chapter accordingly, because I'm sick and tired of finding interesting ways to add the date in each scene. *headdesk* For those of you somewhat good at math, you'll notice that means there will be at least 24 chapters--one for each week during six months, y/y? I'm rounding, people. Sue me. Also, you might notice I've added bits of TOS canon in. Nothing major, so don't worry if you've only seen XI. But without good reason not to include some things, it seemed like certain events would have played out fairly similarly in the Abramsverse as in TOS. *shrugs*
EDIT: On 06/20/09, I changed the pieces in the chess game because I'm a moron and forgot that a castle and rook were the same piece and that it's really called a rook. Thanks
jedibuttercup and shatfat for pointing this out to me! ♥ I always call it a castle when I play, but I'll keep it correct for the fic anyway. It doesn't affect the story really at all, but it's a change nonetheless.Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
The first time Jim realized he was attracted to Spock was when the Vulcan had him bent over backwards, attempting to strangle him. Jim knew he had asked for it. He knew it was important for some mysterious reason that Spock's command ended. And he in no way took any pleasure from bringing up the tragedies that he knew were still causing Spock pain. He had, however, taken plenty of pleasure from watching Spock's eyes narrow, his face contort, his breath come in short gasps, and his arm stretch quickly towards him powerfully, surely, with obvious intent. It was then that Jim knew Spock was damn hot, and he had no problems accepting that and moving on without acting on it. He hadn't realized it actually meant anything. God knew that Jim had more than his fair share of fantasies involving everyone he had ever met. He never acted on the vast majority of them.
When he had first met Uhura, in the bar before he had even seriously thought about joining Starfleet, Jim had her naked and writhing under him before he had even spoken to her. She was hot in a way that a lot of people didn't understand, which only made her even hotter. Strong women, chicks who knew what they wanted and took it, they were sexy as all shit. Jim could tell that was who she was even from watching her across the room. She walked confidently, smiled as though she didn't care who saw and judged her for it, and obviously she fit in with the bar crowd with no worries. Jim could see her, easily, both ordering him and begging him for it, and he was half-convinced it was a sure thing before he spoke to her and realized there was just no way.
He had met McCoy the next day, and damn, damn, McCoy was a fine-looking man. Jim didn't mind imagining guys—it was only his imagination, after all, it didn't mean anything—and it was easy to imagine McCoy shirtless and wet—he'd be hotter wet, everyone was hotter wet. His handshake had been firm, a grip so tight that Jim immediately wondered what it would be like when put to better use. Sure, his eyes had been kind of wild and all over the place, and he had been half-crazed from delusional worry about space diseases, but he pulled off the rugged thing so well that Jim had to give him credit. Then he had gotten to know McCoy, had gotten to respect him and value their friendship and even love him in a certain way, and suddenly it didn't matter how hot McCoy was because he had grown to be a lot more than his looks.
Admiral Pike had been another story entirely. He was older, sure, but that didn't mean he wasn't attractive in his own way. He had power—authority that came from knowing how to get what he wanted when he wanted it, along with the confidence to back it up. Jim could easily see how that would translate well, plus the fact that he was older meant he had more experience. He probably knew how to make it last and feel amazing the whole way, unlike some girls Jim had been with who thought lying there taking it was enough. Pike would be different. Still, when Jim thought of him, he remembered that he hadn't wanted to be pushed to his limits or challenged. He had wanted to lie around and do nothing his whole life. But Pike had forced him to be something more than he had ever thought he could be, and that had made him off-limits because he was the only person in Jim's life who had ever looked at him and seen more than a fuck-up.
Most people looked at him and thought he was only a fuck-up. Galia had been one of those people. She was hot and she knew it, which was often a turn-off for him, but girls from Orion were crazy in bed. That was all the convincing he needed. He would have gone all the way, too, even knowing she'd slept around probably more than he had, but then Uhura had interrupted them. It had probably been for the best. He knew he was never going to be more than a story she sometimes told when she was drunk, and at that point he was getting sick and tired of being that guy. But in his head, sure, why not, he went all the way with her. And all that sleeping around had paid off because damn. She'd been good.
Chekov was a weird one for Jim, and not just because of his accent. He was young, almost illegal young, but of course that didn't matter for his purposes. But no matter how hard he tried, Jim couldn't imagine Chekov as anything other than a virgin. He knew that at seventeen it could reasonably go either way, but for some reason Chekov's bright eager face had Jim thinking that he hadn't had a dirty thought in his life. Obviously that was impossible, but when he imagined it, he thought of Chekov's surprise at every new sensation, at his embarrassment turning slowly to delight. He could picture Chekov wriggling uncomfortably at first, unprepared and unsure, but eventually relaxing under Jim's careful and experienced guidance.
Now Scotty, he was fun. He was always over-excited, throwing his hands around and shouting randomly to anyone who would listen. There was a guy who would be a great lay. That enthusiasm would be amazing to have, either way. In fact, Jim had a vivid image of Scotty riding him, thrusting himself repeatedly onto Jim, eagerly grabbing at Jim's face and hair and shoulders and daring him to do more and faster and better. He would be wild in bed, of that Jim had no doubt at all. Of course he was a talented engineer, and that just made Jim think that Scotty knew how things worked. He'd probably be able to invent a new position every time they tried. Plus, for some reason Jim couldn't get the image out of his head of Scotty screaming, "I'm giving it all I've got, Captain!" That alone would be worth it.
Jim had absolutely no control over where his mind went, which was really clear when he started thinking about Nero. The man was half-psychotic, a genocidal mass murderer, and Jim would never consider actually touching him. But, for the sake of argument, he figured that kind of rage and psychosis could be a-fucking-mazing in bed. Sure, it wasn't morally appropriate, but that didn't seem to stop him from thinking about it. He had so much hate in him, so much anger and disappointment and frustration, Jim was sure the sex would be so rough it'd have to be called violent. He'd never actually had violent sex before, but he could see Nero chaining him up—he'd be naked, of course, otherwise what was the point, really—and fucking him senseless, fucking him blind, making him scream and come without giving him a chance to do anything other than beg for more. Still, it was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Then there was Sulu. Sulu, who seemed so together and polite. It was instantaneous with him, for some reason. Without any trouble or preparation at all, Jim imagined Sulu coming hard, moaning and moving underneath him desperately, wantonly. Sulu was so quiet all the time, so tense and on alert, waiting for something to happen. Jim knew he could be that something. He could have Sulu begging for it in seconds, he just knew it. And no doubt he would make the most interesting sounds. Sulu was always focused on work, and he was good at his job, one of the best, but Jim knew all of that tension was bound to need release. Besides, everyone knew it was always the quiet ones who changed the most in bed. The most straight-laced, controlled people were the ones who really went to extremes when they let themselves go.
Of course, that thought led Jim back to the most straight-laced, controlled person he had ever met, and the mere thought of how wild and fucking hot Spock would be forced Jim to have a lie down. More than any of the others, Jim thought Spock would be the best in bed. He was as confident and strong as Uhura, as hot and close to him (or getting there, anyway) as McCoy, as authoritative as Pike, as eager to learn as Chekov, as fun (in a different way, sure, but still) as Scotty, almost as filled with anger and frustration as Nero, and as self-possessed as Sulu. Plus, he wasn't anything at all like Galia. Spock was the perfect combination for amazing sex, and it was a fucking shame that Jim could imagine it but could never see it actually happening in reality.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Usually the gym was half-empty, since the majority of the crew preferred to relax after work rather than exercise. Still, Jim was used to having a few people around to spar with, and most of them were more than a little happy to have the opportunity to knock their Captain on his ass. Jim couldn't really blame them—if their positions were switched, he was sure he'd love the chance to one-up Admiral Pike or any of the board members.
Today, though, the gym was even emptier than usual. There were two guys from Engineering lifting weights, three girls practicing a variant of judo, and five other crew members in solo activities—running, biking, jumping rope, yoga, and what looked like a variant form of ancient Eastern meditation.
Jim had come in the hopes of working out some energy. He had felt restless all day for no reason he could pin down. Everyone had been working with more efficiency than they usually did, which would normally have been cause for excitement. But he had noticed Uhura staring at Spock a lot, more than she ever had before, and it got Jim thinking about the reasons why she'd be staring at him so much, and all of those reasons had Jim feeling worried and cranky.
He knew he should be happy for his First Officer. Friends were supposed to be happy for each other when romantic shit worked out, weren't they? Of course they were. It was obvious. Yet Jim wasn't able to muster up any kind of positive feelings for Spock. The last he had heard, Spock hadn't really wanted to be involved with Uhura. But that had been a month ago. Things changed in a month. Maybe Spock had realized he had a good thing and didn't want to jeopardize it.
Jim walked up to the punching bag, which was thankfully unused at the moment, and reached for the pair of gloves that was next to it. He put them on, making sure his hands and fingers were protected before he started. The last thing he needed was a broken wrist from not taking the right precautions.
He had been working out for almost ten minutes when he first realized someone was watching him. He stopped, holding the punching bag for a moment to make sure it stopped and wouldn't hit him upside the head when he turned, and looked over to see Scotty standing there. Disappointment ran through him, sharp and instant, and Jim pushed it aside. Scotty was a good friend, too. There was no reason to be disappointed.
"Scotty," Jim said, nodding. "What's up?"
"Just thought you'd like to know that I found a way to increase her maximum speed," Scotty said in a highly self-congratulatory manner. "We can travel five parsecs in the time it used to take us to travel four."
"Sounds good," Jim replied. He walked over and gave Scotty a high-five. "That's why I keep you around."
"And the jokes," Scotty added. "Everyone loves the jokes."
"You know, not so much," Jim replied, grinning. "They get in the way of work. I think you're banned from joking from now on."
Scotty tilted his head, considering. "I'm not sure exactly where in the regulations it says you can't joke around."
"Oh, it's in there," Jim said. "Believe me. I've read the whole thing."
"I'm sure you have, sir," Scotty said. "That's why you're the Captain."
Jim shook his head, both amused at and proud of his Chief Engineer, and that little movement allowed him to see Spock, at the edge of his vision, in the far corner practicing some form of hand-to-hand Jim had never seen before. He was going through the motions slowly, each gesture practiced and refined, confident, powerful.
"When did he get here?" Jim asked, tilting his head towards Spock.
"Who, Spock?" Scotty asked. He shrugged. "Beats me. He was here when I got here."
"Oh," Jim said, floundering. It seemed incredibly hard to believe that Spock could have been here for a few minutes and Jim wouldn't have noticed him. For no reason at all, he felt as though he should have some kind of sixth sense about when Spock entered a room. There was a feeling the air got, a quiet comfort that only Spock gave off, and Jim had never failed to notice it before. It was ridiculous, of course. Spock was just a person like everybody else. There was no reason to expect him to stand out, even considering their friendship.
He wondered if Spock had seen him, when he had first entered. If he had, why hadn't he said anything? Had Jim seemed so focused that Spock hadn't wanted to bother him? Maybe. After all, he hadn't noticed Scotty when he had been standing right there. But that wasn't like Spock. Usually he would at least say hi or nod or make some kind of gesture that let Jim know he was there.
Maybe he had done something like that and Jim had been so intent on punching the damn bag that he hadn't noticed. Oh, God. That would suck. Then Jim would have to explain to Spock that he hadn't been ignoring him, that he hadn't even known he was there. But then Spock might take that like he wasn't important to Jim, and that was so not the case but Jim wasn't about to go trying to explain that. Especially since he didn't know exactly why Spock was important.
Except that he was kind of coming to a roundabout conclusion. Because he'd been watching Spock's hands move, and he was sure the movements were not meant to be as… interesting as they were. And yes, when he was concentrating like that, with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted, Spock looked quite… interesting himself. Surely this was a Vulcan thing, something that Jim would love to ask him about but probably never would, because there was something otherworldly about his movements. They looked natural and yet choreographed, as though Spock was being guided by some unseen force.
Jim wanted to go over and talk to him, but he didn't want to interrupt whatever it was Spock was doing, and anyway he felt like the reason he wanted to go over wasn't a good one. He knew this feeling, had felt it plenty of other times in his life, and he swallowed thickly. When he was alone and letting his imagination go where it wanted, thinking about Spock and sex was one thing. When he was in public, it was entirely different. He wasn't supposed to get this... interested from simply watching Spock perform what was most likely Vulcan meditation or a physical ritual. It wasn't even like Spock was half-naked or wet or anything. He was fully clothed, in sweats and a long-sleeve cloth shirt, and it was obvious he looked pretty much how he normally did since nobody else was staring at him stupidly.
Plus, Spock was a guy. Jim didn't do guys. At least, he thought he didn't. There'd been thoughts, of course. Who didn't have thoughts sometimes? But he'd never acted on them. He could joke about it, sure, why not? And he had no problem with it—as long as it was other people who were doing it. But he'd always remember his step-father's disapproval, and his own discomfort, and girls were just as hot as guys, if not more so. Why take the risk? What could be gained, from getting with a guy, that couldn't be had a thousand times easier with a chick?
There was no good reason to take that kind of chance. At all. So what if he sometimes thought about it? He sometimes thought about sex with everybody. It didn't have to mean anything. Besides, Spock was his First Officer and the best friend he'd made since McCoy. That made the whole idea ten thousand times worse. Things could go horribly wrong, and it wouldn't be worth it for a quick lay, no matter how hot Jim thought it could be.
On top of all that, there was the one most obvious factor. It was Spock. Spock. The man took everything seriously. He was a Vulcan—logical to a fault and compelled to push down his emotions at all times. Jim couldn't even begin to fathom just how bad of an idea it would be to try and get with Spock. He wouldn't be into experimenting. He wouldn't want to see how it was. He'd consider that beneath him, and actually Jim agreed. Spock was an actually decent guy, and not in a creepy way. He was too good a person to agree to a one-off with anyone, much less a superior officer.
So that was it, then. Jim's hormones would have to find someone else to focus on. Spock was off-limits in lots of ways, not the least of which being that he was already dating someone. Jim's mind stuttered, balked at the inclusion of "already," wondered why he'd thought of it in that particular way. It wasn't like he wanted to date Spock. Please. That would be ridiculous.
…Right?
A slap on his arm brought Jim back to Scotty, who was looking at him as if he'd gone insane. "What?" Jim asked, rubbing his arm.
"I've been talking to you for the past five minutes," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "You didn't hear anything, did you?"
"Um… no?" Jim answered, sheepishly.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?" Scotty asked. "I might have important things to say, you know."
"Oh," Jim said, tensing up. "Was it important?"
"Well… no," Scotty admitted with a wave of his hand. "But it could have been important! And that's the point."
"Yeah, okay, fine," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'll listen next time, okay?"
"Sure you will," Scotty replied. "So you want me to get him or what?"
"Huh?" Jim blinked, confused.
"Spock," Scotty explained. "You were just staring at him. You need to talk to him or not?"
"Oh," Jim said, laughing. "Um, yeah, no, I mean, it's okay, sure, you know what? Never mind."
Scotty nodded once, firmly. "Okay. I'm leaving now."
Jim gestured to the gym. "You sure you don't want to stay and work out for a while?"
Scotty glared at him. "I'll have you know I'm in great shape."
Jim grinned. "Hey, I'm just, you know, being a good friend. Letting you know when things get a little…" He trailed off, shaking his hand in the air and pursing his lips together, crinkling his nose.
"Oh, thanks," Scotty said. "Let's see who beams you up next time you end up on an arctic wasteland."
"It's love, Scotty," Jim said, sincerely. "It's all love."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Spock had spent the afternoon meditating, which was both relaxing and rejuvenating. He had noticed Jim when he had first entered the gymnasium, but he had been thoroughly engaged in an exercise routine and Spock did not want to interrupt him. Besides, Spock had to make an effort not to think about Jim as much as he had been. Uhura had asked him to do so, and Spock did not want to give up without even making an attempt.
When he had left, Jim had been in the corridor immediately outside the door, which was strange considering Spock thought he would have already been back in his quarters by then. Jim had asked if Spock wanted to hang out that night, and Spock declined because he already had plans with Uhura. Jim had made allusions to hanging out another time and left.
Spock did not entirely understand the human concept of "hanging out". It was, apparently, meant to deepen social bonds by performing various types of activities, however occasionally it meant doing nothing while debating on what activity to do. It did not at all mean to literally hang from an object, which had mildly surprised Spock considering Jim's fondness for hanging from things. It was a term humans used frequently, though, and Spock had surmised that his presence was required whenever someone wished to "hang out" with him. This was one slang term he believed he had mastered, and he mentally congratulated himself for his skill in deducing the meaning behind the nonsensical phrase.
Uhura was currently sitting next to him in a recreation room. They were playing a card game that involved collecting similar groups of cards and then putting them down on the table for other players to add on to. It was very similar to many other card games Spock had encountered, and so although he had never played this particular version before, he believed he understood the rules and goal satisfactorily.
"Your turn," Uhura said. She had a habit of saying that any time Spock took more than twenty-two seconds deciding what he should do. It was quite annoying because Spock obviously knew it was his turn and he was clearly considering his options. Reminding him that it was his turn did nothing to assist in playing the game.
"One moment," Spock said, shortly. He eventually decided to add to Uhura's pile of 3's and then pick up two cards before adding to his own pile of 8's and placing down three Kings to start a new pile on his side.
"Shit," Uhura said, frowning at his move.
"Is there a problem?" Spock asked, hesitantly.
"No, it's just…" Uhura rolled her eyes. "I was going to start the Kings. Whatever. It doesn't matter."
"I see," Spock said. This was one of those human things that he wasn't sure how to deal with. Becoming upset during a game was somewhat common among humans, and Spock had to admit that he too often felt frustration when things didn't go his way. However, stating it using those words in that tone of voice was an obvious attempt, perhaps unintentional, to make Spock feel guilty about his actions. He had no desire to feel guilty over a game, but offering to take back his move would no doubt have Uhura protesting that she hadn't been complaining, although she clearly had.
In the same situation, Jim would probably have made a joke out of it. He might have gasped in over-embellished shock, jabbed a finger at Spock and told him he'd better be prepared for vengeance. He might also have clucked his tongue and eyed Spock daringly while he reached out and moved Spock's pile of Kings over to his own side of the table. Spock could imagine several ways Jim would have reacted to the exact same scenario, and they all had him feeling happily indulgent. They would all have encouraged the game to continue, only adding to the overall enjoyment of the experience. What Uhura had done, however, had taken Spock out of the game and made him feel unsatisfied with how it was progressing. Recreational activities should never produce negative feelings. If they did, they weren't performing their intended purpose of relieving stress.
Then Spock remembered he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Jim. He focused on the game once more just in time for Uhura to move impatiently beside him.
"Your turn."
Spock nodded and continued playing, this time with a different goal. He would try to make Uhura happy as opposed to winning. It didn't actually matter to him what the outcome of the game was. However, he had turned down an opportunity to spend time with Jim in order to be here, and if Uhura was not properly satisfied with the evening then his choice to spend his time with her as opposed to Jim would have been for nothing.
After a few more turns, during which time Uhura gained steadily in points while Spock lingered behind, Uhura began to seem unhappy. Spock couldn't figure out the reason behind her attitude, but without knowing the cause he decided the best plan was to continue his actions without change. When the game finally ended with Uhura as the victor, she put her hands on the table and looked at Spock with doubtful eyes.
"Did you throw the game?"
"I do not understand that expression," Spock said, carefully. He assumed she had not meant to ask if he had picked up the game and tossed it across the room. "Would you please rephrase the question?"
"Okay. Did you stop trying to win so that I could win?" Uhura asked. "Did you intentionally lose?"
"No, I did not intentionally lose," Spock said. He wanted to elaborate, to be honest and say that her attitude had caused him to stop trying to win. But he felt as though being honest with Uhura would cause her to get angry. If she became upset, then he would have really botched the intention behind spending time with her. Still, he wasn't particularly keen on lying, either. This was one of those times when Spock was glad humans occasionally asked several questions at once, assuming all the questions were synonymous when they actually were not.
"Really?" Uhura asked.
"I did not intentionally lose," Spock repeated.
"Good," Uhura replied, smiling. "I thought for sure you were letting me win." She shrugged. "Guess I'm just better at this game than you are."
"It would appear that way," Spock stated.
Uhura laughed, delighted. "Wow, beating you at a game that uses logic. That's something."
Spock had no answer to that, so he collected the cards, put them back in their box, and then put the game in the cabinet that contained all of the diversions the room offered.
"Shall I walk you back to your quarters?" Spock asked. It was the right thing to do, after all.
"Oh," Uhura said. "Um, I was kind of hoping that we could spend some more time together."
"I see," Spock said. He turned back to the cabinet. "What else would you like to play?"
"Oh. No," Uhura said, laughing nervously. "That's not what I meant."
"I do not understand," Spock said.
"Yeah, I can see that," Uhura replied. "I meant I was hoping we could spend time together tonight." She paused. "In my room. Or your room." Spock was silent. "It's just that we haven't actually done anything yet. It's been over a month. We haven't even kissed since those first two times."
"I was distracted by other events," Spock said. He did not want to specifically bring up bad memories, but he had no idea about how else to reply.
"I know," Uhura said. "That's why I haven't said anything. But, I mean, after a month, we should be doing something, right?"
"Perhaps Vulcan culture differs more on this subject than I had originally thought," Spock stated. "I was taught there is no time limit on these matters."
"Well, no, of course not," Uhura agreed. "But most people become more intimate sooner than this."
"I am not most people," Spock said, slowly.
"No," Uhura said. "You're not." She shrugged. "All right. You win. We'll wait." Spock didn't reply, unsure how to respond to such a statement. "Will you walk me back to my room anyway?"
"Of course," Spock said. He walked out of the room with Uhura at his side, already worrying that this would become a frequent issue between them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In truth, sex was something Spock rarely thought about. It had been highly inappropriate to speak of intimate acts of any nature on Vulcan. Future bondmates were chosen by the child's parents at an early age, which ensured emotions would never play a part in the process. Yes, there were ways around that. Either of the intended bondmates could engage in kal-if-fee, or they could simply withhold themselves from the other during pon farr. They could mutually agree to part ways amicably and withdraw their claim on each other. They could protest their bonding either in front of a council or their parents. Of course, the very idea of protesting a bondmate was so outrageous to most Vulcans that it hardly ever occurred. Vulcans were notoriously stubborn and unwilling to show weakness. Indicating that you did not feel a connection with your intended bondmate showed both weakness and emotional instability. It simply wasn't done. At least, Spock could not remember the last time he had heard of any bondmates attempting to get out of their arrangement.
He himself had never attempted to get out of his arranged bond. Of course, he had never actually met T'Pring outside of the one time they had first been promised to each other, and she might well be dead along with everyone else Spock had known on Vulcan, outside of his father and the few remaining council members. For all he tried to care, Spock couldn't place any more importance on her life than on everyone else's. Eventually he would find out what had become of her, but it would be a long time before then. They had avoided each other, neither particularly interested in the other, and then he had left to join Starfleet. He hadn't thought of her since then, ever, not even in passing, just as he hadn't thought of her on Vulcan. Spock was Vulcan enough to know that he should show emotional attachment to anyone, but he was also human enough to become emotionally attached only to people he actually saw and interacted with. Overall, the entire bonding process was one he had resigned himself to long ago, and although he might eventually ask to be released from his bond (he was an outcast anyway, what further harm could it do him to attempt to find a better match), he would only do so if he found another person who was a suitable substitute for T'Pring.
Now, though, everything was different. With Vulcan destroyed, many of the survivors had lost their intended bondmates, and all of them had lost the ability to travel back to Vulcan during pon farr. They would find a way around this, he was sure, but it meant that the old traditions had to be abruptly discarded if their species was going to survive. Still, even with that knowledge, Spock was sure Vulcans would continue to reject their emotions. It was their way—it was his way—and it was such a central part of their lives that he couldn't imagine it changing.
That was why he had never thought much about sex. Bonding with someone was more about finding a logical way of dealing with pon farr than entering an emotional relationship. Pon farr itself was shameful, an experience that every Vulcan dreaded going through. Spock had never been through it, most likely thanks to the human blood that filled half of his veins. He hoped he never would. It was regarded as the worst part of a Vulcan's life—when they lost all ability to reason, when logic meant nothing, when the most basic part of their instincts took over and forced them to behave like violent animals. It was never discussed, even among each other. The one and only time Vulcans spoke of pon farr was when they first entered it. Then, a parent would explain what was happening, briefly. Besides that, sex and every other form of physical intimacy were deeply discouraged. Speaking of it was forbidden, and actually showing affection in front of others was so anathema Spock felt sick from thinking about it.
So, thanks to Vulcan culture and the bonding process and pon farr, the idea of sexual orientation had never crossed Spock's mind. If he rarely thought about sex, then he never thought about his own preferences. Intercourse was meant for one purpose—ensuring survival. Either his own survival during pon farr (which, again, he had never been through but he had been taught about it by his father anyway, just in case) or else the survival of their species that came from creating a child. Feelings were not meant to be a part of the situation. No matter how intimate two people became, there was always an invisible line which separated what was acceptable behavior from what was overly emotional and unwanted. All Vulcans had emotions, and they all required emotional release at various times, but it was never as open and welcomed as it was within human society. Spock had seen this enough between his own parents to know it as fact. Emotions were tolerated because they had to be, but they were never enjoyed and they were never welcome in public situations.
This was why he had not appreciated when Uhura had kissed him in the transporter room, with Jim and Scotty right there, watching. In fact, it had disturbed him that she would be so open with affectionate displays. Living among humans had forced Spock to learn tolerance at such displays, but he had never believed he would participate in them. Physical affection, in all its forms, was meant to be private and cherished. It was not meant to be flaunted around for others to gawk at and make judgments upon. Spock knew this was also why he couldn't stand watching Jim flirt with such a large variety of people so publicly. It was an unwanted display that had no merit at all.
Most species did not share the Vulcan distaste for intimacy. Spock was well aware of that, but it didn't change his own opinion. In choosing to become more human and fit in with the people he was currently surrounded by on a daily basis, Spock had chosen to act in ways that felt wrong to him. He was learning to accept behavior from others that seemed strange or unacceptable, yet he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do such things with the ease and frequency that others could. Physical intimacy stood out in this area, especially now that he was involved with Uhura. He did not feel comfortable with her touching him in public, no matter how small the touches were. In fact, the only person Spock did not mind touching him was Jim, but he knew this was because they were good friends. Jim was an anomaly, and one that he knew wouldn't happen again. He had been brought up Vulcan, and though his mother had tried to instill emotional freedom in him, Spock always felt uncomfortable with such intimacies. He thought he always would.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dinner was more or less the same as it always was. Jim was at a table with McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov. He had decided on spaghetti and meatballs—an underappreciated classic. With all of the foreign food that was available thanks to the myriad of planets in the Federation, Jim strongly believed that people should take the time to enjoy traditional meals as well as experimental ones. Besides, what Sulu had chosen was actually moving, wriggling around, and it had small tentacles that seemed to be sparking. There really was no contest, in Jim's book.
"Are you really going to eat that?" Jim asked, eyeing the blue thing hesitantly.
"Of course," Sulu replied. "It's a delicacy in the Gamma Nine system."
"It is?" Jim sounded so disbelieving that McCoy and Chekov started laughing. "What? How can something that moves be a delicacy?"
"Delicacy has always been a fancy word for crap," McCoy stated. "You should know that by now."
"I can't believe you're going to eat that," Jim said, staring at Sulu in fear and wonder. "I'm either impressed or horrified. Maybe both." He paused. "Yep, it's both."
Sulu took a knife and cut a tentacle off. The thing made a high-pitched sound and wriggled a little more forcefully. Jim gagged as Sulu speared the tentacle on his fork and ate it in one quick swallow.
"Oh, God," Chekov said. He pushed his plate away from him and shook his head. "I can't. I think I'm going to be sick."
"Mm," Sulu murmured. He closed his eyes and nodded a few times, sighing. "That is an indescribable delight."
"I'll agree with the indescribable part," Jim said, frowning.
"It's best to eat it quickly. That way, your stomach acid has already killed it before it tries to electrocute you." Sulu cut off another tentacle and ate that one, and Jim decided the best thing to do would be to ignore him and eat his own spaghetti.
Then he actually looked down at his spaghetti and noticed the similarity it had to the tentacles in question. Jim frowned. "Shit, I think you've put me off too," he said, sadly.
"It's truly disgusting," Chekov agreed. "I might not eat for a month."
"Oh, come on," McCoy said. "You people are pathetic. You don't know disgusting until you've tried eating with intestines hanging out of a guy next to you." There was utter silence. "What?"
"Bones, you are a man among men," Jim said, sadly.
"It's easy when I'm among you guys," McCoy replied. He took a bite out of his hamburger and chewed thoughtfully. "I never understood the need to eat that stuff anyway. Do you have any idea the amount of diseases those kinds of foods can give you?"
Jim pulled his spaghetti towards him and decided to go for it. He lost track of the conversation as his eyes drifted around the room. Watching the crew enjoy themselves made Jim feel like he was being a good Captain. Things were still running smoothly, more or less. No disasters had occurred. People were doing their jobs with skill and efficiency. He had no complaints.
Then the doors opened and Spock and Uhura walked in. Jim sat up straighter. They were here. Together. Eating together. That was like a date. Were they on a date? To the mess hall? No, that was ridiculous. But then why were they here? Together?
If Jim had to sit here and watch Spock and Uhura flirt and make googly eyes at each other, he was going to fire someone. Maybe even someone important.
"What are they doing here?" Jim asked. When awkward silence ensued, he realized he had spoken out loud.
"What's who doing here?" Sulu asked, slowly. "There's a lot of people here, Captain."
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing," Chekov said, quickly. "Friends eat together all the time."
"Who are we talking about?" McCoy asked, blankly. "I missed it in all the vague insinuations."
"Spock and Uhura," Jim explained.
"Well, Jim, they're dating," McCoy said, speaking slowly and clearly. "When two people like each other very much—"
"Yeah, stop now," Jim interrupted. "I just meant, you know, usually Spock eats alone. At night. By himself. Without other people… around."
"You do know we understood what you meant when you said ‘alone,' right?" McCoy asked.
"I think it's a good thing he's eating with her," Sulu said.
"You do?" Jim and Chekov said in the exact same tone at the exact same time. They looked at each other before looking back to Sulu, who was regarding both of them with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," Sulu repeated. "I do."
"Oh," Jim said. "Well, of course. I didn't mean to imply, you know, a bad thing. I just meant that it was kind of weird and all."
"When you're nervous you're even more incoherent than normal," McCoy said, calmly.
"Maybe they'll sit with us," Chekov said, hopefully. He was twirling something orange, and thankfully unmoving, around on his fork. It was probably meat, but Jim was always slightly wary of foreign meat. You just never knew what other cultures considered edible.
"That would be nice," Sulu stated.
Jim waved at Spock and Uhura, immediately hopeful. It would not be the end of the world if they sat alone, of course, but it would somehow make everything ten trillion times better if they joined the rest of what Jim was affectionately calling the bridge group. He knew McCoy wasn't actually stationed on the bridge, but he was there often enough that he counted anyway. Spock and Uhura were part of the bridge group. There was no reason for them to eat alone. Unless, of course, it was a date. But it wasn't a date. There was no way it was a date.
Uhura waved at Jim with a slightly put-out look and then pulled on Spock's arm, dragging him to the opposite side of the room. Spock nodded at Jim and then gestured towards Uhura before following her.
"Looks like they're on a date," McCoy said, without any care at all about how that might sound to an innocent bystander.
"Bones," Jim said, without warning. "You're fired."
"That's nice," McCoy replied.
"They can't be," Chekov said, shooting Jim quick furtive looks that everyone saw. "Anyway, I don't think it's serious. They don't act like they're really dating."
"Maybe they are," Sulu said. "It isn't any of our business either way."
Jim was quiet. Spinning his spaghetti around his fork, he ate it without another comment, once again losing track of the conversation. This time, though, it was intentional. He had no desire to hear speculations on whether Spock and Uhura were dating and how far they had gone and what she was doing to his pointed ears when they were alone at night, naked and pressed against each other, moaning as he—
"Ah!" Jim exclaimed, jumping up from the table so fast he slammed his hip into the edge of it. "Ow!" He dropped back down, curling into himself, rubbing his injured hipbone delicately. "No! Why?"
"Are you okay?" Sulu asked, concerned and obviously confused.
"Yeah, I mean, ow," Jim replied. "I'll be fine."
"Maybe you should stop slamming into inanimate objects," McCoy stated.
"I would if they stopped moving around," Jim said.
"I don't think inanimate objects—" Chekov started.
McCoy interrupted him. "He knows. He's just trying to be funny."
"Oh," Chekov said, nodding slowly.
They finished eating quickly after that, all of them ready to be away from the table that had attacked Jim for reasons unknown. Jim hoped that they wouldn't ask any more questions, but everyone seemed perfectly content to let the matter drop. Which worked perfectly for Jim, since he had no real excuse about why he had suddenly acted like a lunatic in the middle of dinner with half the crew watching. He certainly couldn't say the real reason because the real reason was so ridiculous Jim didn't even believe it himself. In fact, he actually didn't believe it. There had to be another reason why he was so bothered by the idea of Spock and Uhura. It couldn't be what he thought it was.
A few minutes later, Sulu and Chekov gathered their plates and left, most likely to get a rec room before they were all taken. Jim had been rubbing his hipbone off and on for the few minutes, eating his spaghetti intermittently and wondering when Spock was going to look his way.
"Hey," McCoy said, tapping Jim on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Jim said. "Thanks."
"You sure?" McCoy said. "If it hit the wrong way, you're going to walk around like a cripple for a few days."
Jim rolled his eyes. "I'll come by later, if it makes you feel better."
"Hey, I'm just looking out for me," McCoy said. "I don't want to get blamed when the Captain suddenly can't walk straight."
"I said I'll stop by, didn't I?" Jim replied. "So I will."
McCoy looked at Jim and gestured to where Sulu and Chekov had been sitting. "We're playing a game tonight. You coming or not?"
"Yeah," Jim said, quickly. "I'm going to rob you guys blind."
"With what, a pair of twos?" McCoy replied, scoffing.
"You never know," Jim said, confidently. He eyed McCoy with exaggerated interest. "Tonight could be my lucky night."
"Oh God," McCoy said, horrified. "You know what? Don't come by tonight. Maybe your leg'll fall off."
"Don't be like that, baby," Jim said. "You know I love you."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Playing chess with Jim was both irritating and incredibly enjoyable. Jim didn't use logic to determine his moves, which meant that Spock found himself constantly guessing what the next twist in the game would be. It lead to an excitement that he hadn't duplicated with anyone else so far, mostly because everyone always tried to beat him using logic, which always failed. Jim had never even tried to beat Spock at his own game, to coin a human phrase, so it was an experience which was an inherently unique puzzle that Jim dared Spock to solve. It was as if, by moving a piece to a location that made no sense, Jim was taunting Spock, daring him to try and figure out what his plan was. Despite himself, Spock enjoyed it very much.
"You're losing," Jim sing-songed.
"I am not losing," Spock replied, snappish. "I am merely adjusting my strategy."
"Is that Vulcan for losing?" Jim asked.
"No," Spock answered.
"I bet it is," Jim said. "For some reason, and I really don't know why this could be, I get the feeling that Vulcans are incredibly sore losers."
"You are right," Spock said.
"Ha," Jim said, triumphantly.
"I do not know why you would think that either," Spock finished.
"Oh, witty, very witty," Jim said, grinning. "But I'm still winning."
"Chess is not a game where the outcome can be determined before the end," Spock said, deliberately being high-handed to watch Jim's reaction.
"I see through this façade," Jim said. "One day, you'll give it up." Jim blushed then, for some mysterious reason, and added, "I meant the façade, not—" He cut himself off. "Never mind."
Spock nodded absently. Jim sometimes confused himself when he spoke. It was becoming a habit to overlook it. He moved a bishop only for Jim to move a rook, and that got Spock seeing the game in an entirely different light. They played in silence for a while. It was comfortable. Spock felt more at home than he had since he had joined the crew of the Enterprise. They were playing in a rec room that had a few other groups of people in it, but somehow the presence of other people didn't detract from Spock's enjoyment of the game. It was strange. When he had been alone with Uhura, he should have felt more comfortable than he did in a room of near-strangers with Jim. It hadn't happened that way, and Spock could not determine why.
Not that he minded. Spock was content to relax with Jim and let himself be pulled into his Captain's frame of mind. As he imagined what moves were going through Jim's head and which one he would pick, Spock felt closer to Jim than he ever had before. This was the first game of chess they had played together, and so the sensation was new and fascinating to him. He fervently hoped Jim would be amenable to future games.
As Spock watched Jim idly finger a knight that he really should not move if he wanted to have any hope of winning, he realized this was what was missing from his relationship with Uhura. A sense of peacefulness and completion that came when two people simply got along well together—he did not have that when he was with Uhura. Spock did not know how to duplicate it with her. He also didn't know how to explain to her what he thought the problem was. He wasn't even sure if she knew there was a problem.
Jim moved the knight and Spock captured it with his queen. Then Jim moved the rook from the other side behind the queen, blocking his escape. Spock focused on the game, moving with deliberate, carefully planned moves, until Jim cornered him with a move that was so illogical Spock hadn't even seen it coming. Literally.
"I do believe that's checkmate," Jim said, happily.
Spock frowned and studied the board. "It would appear so."
"That's because it is so," Jim replied. "Which I told you forty-five minutes ago."
Spock carefully looked over the pieces, wondering how he could have missed the finishing move Jim must have been planning for some time. Jim grinned at him, not mocking but purely friendly, and pointed to a spot on the board.
"I got you there," he said. "You weren't paying attention to this part."
"I paid attention to the entirety of the board," Spock said. Although, in truth, keeping an equal amount of attention on all three levels of the chess board was more difficult against Jim than it had ever been against anyone else. Jim moved erratically, which meant Spock had focused on the areas of the game which had seemed more relevant. "Perhaps you are right," he relented, tilting his head in agreement.
Jim smiled. "You're really good at this."
"As are you," Spock replied. "I have never played a similar game in my entire life."
"Thanks," Jim said. "But I bet that's only because you've been playing the wrong people."
"Apparently," Spock said. He swallowed and continued, "I would very much like to play against you again." He sounded hopeful, and he worried Jim would pick up on it.
Jim only grinned. "Of course." He punched Spock gently in the shoulder, a gesture Spock had already realized was meant to be affectionate in a masculine way. "I'll play any time you want me to."
"Agreed," Spock replied.
"That is, any time you're free," Jim said. "What with Uhura and all."
"Ah," Spock said, surprised. "Lieutenant Uhura and I spend most of our time apart."
In fact, Uhura had asked Spock if he had wanted to do something with her that night, but Spock had told her that he was planning on spending time with Jim. She had been slightly upset, but eventually she understood that Spock wanted to spend time with his friend that night. They had spent the past two days together, mostly, and Spock had been more than ready to see Jim.
"Whatever," Jim said, shrugging. "Just let me know when you want to play."
"I will," Spock said, and he fully intended to.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Othersides 1
Feedback completely makes my day. :D
A/N (Part 2): I CANNOT BELIEVE I WROTE THAT FIRST SCENE. I never thought I would sexualize all of those people. That is all. *headdesk*
A/N (Part 3): So that wasn't all. I'm getting annoyed at putting up this fic on four different comms. Which comm should I update to?
kirkspock, newtrekslash, startrek2009, or st_reboot?![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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