#Spock just took Kirk’s hand

[theemomarshmallow]

I’M SCREAMING PLEASE

[captainsophiestark]

Not A Doctor

Bones McCoy x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Star Trek

Summary: Bones' SO hurts themselves on an away mission and has to stitch themselves up as well as they can to buy time for a med evac to the Enterprise

Word Count: 1,533

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Shit," I hissed, pressing a hand to my side as I slid down the wall. When I finally got up the courage to pull my hand back and look, it came away with a lot more blood than I'd hoped to find. I'd fallen pretty far and managed to avoid any broken bones based on my pain levels, but the wound in my side was gaping and looked concerningly serious.

I could practically hear the extended bridge crew chorusing "I told you so" from here.

As if on cue, my communicator beeped. I grimaced, but managed to take it out of my bag and open it to respond.

"What's up?" I groaned.

"Y/N, where are you?" came the voice of Jim Kirk, one of my best friends and the captain of the Enterprise. "Scotty's reporting he can only find two targets to beam up."

Dammit. That figured.

"I'm... not totally sure. I was trying to follow the signature on my tricorder to that plant I've been looking for when the ground just gave way under me. I'm not sure how far I fell, but I hit something pretty hard on the way down and I've got... quite the gash in my side."

Silence on the other end for a few moments, then:

"Hang tight. We're coming to find you."

The communicator hung up with a click, and I sighed, ignoring the flare of pain in my side. I had faith in Jim's determination and ability to find me, especially with Spock here helping him, but I still needed to do something if I wanted to be alive when they found me.

Thankfully, I'd watched my boyfriend, Doctor Leonard McCoy, stich people up often enough that I felt fairly confident I could do a passable job on myself. I dug some sewing supplies out of my bag that I hadn't removed from my last away mission misadventure, and pulled the hem of my shirt up to get a better look at the wound.

I grimaced, gritting my teeth and trying to prepare for this. I'd been so excited to join Kirk and Spock on this away mission. This planet was supposed to have one of the rarest plants in the galaxy, and I'd been looking forward to finding it since I'd first heard we'd be coming here. And now, I was at the bottom of this pit or cave or whatever, slowly bleeding out, without even a picture of the plant to show for it.

Ugh.

I tried to focus on my breathing as I threaded a needle and put it to my skin. I knew the wound needed to be disinfected before I totally closed it, but I didn't have anything on me to do that with, and I knew Bones would be able to take care of it for me if I could manage to get back to him.

I took a few deep breaths to steel myself, then stuck the needle through. I swore loudly and kept up a steady stream of expletives as I sewed up the wound. I pulled it closed as tightly as I dared, then held my jacket to my waist to try to staunch the remainder of the bleeding.

I sighed, long and hard, then leaned my head back against the wall of whatever hole I'd fallen into. I had no idea how long those stitches had taken me, but it certainly hadn't been quick. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much longer before I heard Jim and Spock stumbling down some passage towards me.

I focused on deep breaths as the pain continued to throb in my side, completely zoning out to the time and environment around me. Finally, I heard some shuffling movement from a slightly more gradual incline up ahead of me. The voices of my friends echoed out, curious and searching.

"Y/N!"

"I'm here!" I called back, my voice a little weaker than normal. I cleared my throat, then tried again. "Here!"

A moment later, my friends came into view. Jim grinned at me as Spock started scanning the space, probably trying to decide on the best way to get me out of here.

"How're you holding up?" asked Jim. I forced a smile.

"Living the dream."

He scoffed, then moved to crouch beside me and put one of my arms over his shoulder.

"Spock! Come help me."

"We'll need to get around the corner and most of the way back up the incline we came down to reach a spot where Mr. Scott can register us," said Spock as he joined us. "There seems to be some property of this rock that's prohibiting the transporter signal from reaching us."

"Great," I huffed, grimacing as my friends pulled me to my feet. Even resting most of my weight on them, I was still seeing spots. "This is gonna be great."

Between the three of us, somehow, we managed to get back into transporter range. I almost lost consciousness at one point, but we'd paused, and I'd managed to pull myself back from the brink. When the Enterprise's transporter room finally materialized before me, the relief was palpable, not least of all because Bones was waiting for me.

"Y/N," he said, jumping to attention and rushing onto the pad to replace Jim at my side. With Spock's help, we started moving immediately for the Med Bay. "What happened?"

"I was following the signature of the plant I was looking for on my tricorder. Then all of a sudden, the ground gave way underneath me. It wasn't a straight drop, I don't think, but I fell a pretty long way, bouncing off the rock slide and the walls of the cave I fell into on the way down. I'm bruised, but I don't think it's anything bad besides the cut on my stomach."

Bones nodded. "We'll get you to Med Bay and make sure."

Luckily, my boyfriend was very good at staying calm and focused in a crisis for his patients. He was completely in the zone as he and Spock helped me into a bed once we reached Med Bay, and then Bones started checking my vitals and assessing my injuries. I watched him carefully for any break in his usual bedside manner to tell me if I needed to be worried about something, but none came.

Hopefully that was a good sign, and not just because he was an incredible doctor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to me, Bones returned from his testing and reappeared by  my bedside. His hands were on his hips, but he seemed calmer, and definitely out of intense doctor mode.

"Alright, the good news is you'll be just fine. But I'm still gonna need to disinfect the wound and stitch you up," he said. I gave him the best smile I could muster.

"Sounds like a plan."

He sighed, then gently lifted my shirt high enough to give him access to the gash in my side. The light touch of his fingertips sent goosebumps along my skin, but I did my best to ignore them, especially as Bones frowned.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" he asked, not looking away from his work on my side.

"Uh... I slammed into a rock. We covered this already, remember?"

"No, I didn't mean your injury." Bones paused and looked up at me, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. "I meant these stitches. Yikes."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, making Bones chuckle as he got back to work.

"Okay, whatever. I'm a biologist, not a doctor, dammit. I think I did a pretty good job, considering the circumstances."

"Mm, I guess so. Barely."

"Hey!" I laughed, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. "You better knock it off or I'm gonna start practicing my stitches on you."

Bones snorted, but I could see the smile on his face as he continued working. Thanks to the medical facilities of the Enterprise, it barely hurt as he undid my messy job and redid it with a much better one of his own.

"So... what are you doing after this?" I asked after a few long moments of letting him work in peace. He paused to look up at me again, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell me you're hitting on your own boyfriend after only the low-level painkillers I gave you?"

"I can and will hit on my own boyfriend whenever I want, no painkillers required. But I was mostly asking if you had other patients to deal with after me, or if you'd be free to come cuddle on the couch and eat junk food with me. I think it'd really help speed up my recovery process."

Bones' mouth quirked into a smile again as he put the finishing touches on my stitches.

"Well if it's for the wellness of a patient... I think Nurse Chapel might be willing to take over from me for the rest of the day."

"Thank goodness for Christine."

Bones and I shared a smile, then he returned to his work and I watched him contentedly. Obviously, life and death situations on away missions were never ideal—but I couldn't really bring myself to be upset about how this one had played out, even if I hadn't managed to get my plant in the end.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[laurellala-comics]

I've been having so much fun with my Ace Attorney comics lately but I've been feeling the pull to do original stuff again. So to ease into the transition, here is my (very first!) comedy zine. You may spot some familiar faces B)

Thanks for reading my goofiness! I'm including some nerd thoughts about zines under the cut

Zines are sooo cool and I assume most people have heard of them since this is tumblr BUT if you haven't! Zine is short for magazine (pronounced "zeen" it does not rhyme with vine). It usually refers to handmade pamphlets that can be created by folding and cutting a single sheet of paper, which is what I did, but it can be used for any sort of self made publication. The goal is to make something that can be reprinted and shared so mine is technically not in the spirit of that because of all my little interactive details but shh that's fine. Zines have been used in sooo many ways (Was Martin Luther's 95 theses not in a way the first zine (this is a joke)) but they are especially recognized as part of the punk movement as a way of fighting back against mainstream media and of sharing information around! It was a way to get around censorship and spread the word about social movements and political messages buuuut it has also always been used to share fun things, like music recommendations OR FAMOUSLY. STAR TREK SPOCK KIRK FAN FICTION (this is real and there are academic papers about this). Some of the earliest m/m fanfic was passed along through zines because they did not have ao3 back then! All they had was a typewriter and a dream! It's actually sooo silly, but I took a class in college that heavily emphasized these zines as leading to the fandom culture we had today, so they really did shape the world we live in today. Tumblr posts are like our own little zines that we share, with our own messages and thoughts and yes even hand drawn gay people...

Anyway, like I mentioned, in these fandom spaces you had queer zines that were about explicitly romantic and sexual relationships between fictional men. At the time, slash shipping was not the most common way to engage with fandom, but today it has become very mainstream and widely accepted amongst the fandom. But you know what queer behaviors are still not mainstream within fandom spaces, even within queer fandom spaces? Aro ace rep babyyyy. With that in mind, I feel like what is considered radical and abnormal these days in queer fandom spaces is to engage with fictional men (or any characters) from an aromantic or asexual lens. And so I am here to hold your hand and walk you through the wonderful radical world of imagining non-romantic scenarios with fictional guys. You can have so much fun with it and I think more people should do it. What if you stood in line at the bank and your favorite anime man was in front of you. What if you had to go in for jury duty and the guy from five nights at freddy's was there. What if you went to the library and spock and kirk were both there researching the history of zines. In a world that expects us to prioritize one normative romantic and sexual relationship as the big thing that will bring you happiness and fulfillment, it is radical to say "actually, i could probably still be really happy and fulfilled if i had some cool friends to hang out with and do mundane things with. And also what if those friends were fictional lawyers."

Anyway. Thank you to all the spirk shippers who worked hard to get us here, I will pick up your mantle and continue to push against societal norms but with fewer sex scenes this time around. Not that you aren't valid for that, this is just personal preference. The end. Go make a zine everybody.

[shanastoryteller]

Star Trek please!! Happy Halloween

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

Admiral Archer is unwilling to take his rescission at face value and demands a more complete explanation. To Spock's relief, and the gathered students' disappointment, he's willing to hear it in his private office.

Captain Pike slips in behind them, which gets him an irritated scowl but the admiral allows it. Spock is only marginally surprised by this. Admiral Archer and Captain Pike are known to be on good terms and James Kirk had entered the academy on Captain Pike's recommendation.

"Explain," Admiral Archer demands.

Spock hesitates.

Starfleet is of course aware of the events that took place on Tarsus IV and so they must be equally aware of James Kirk's role in it. While Admiral Archer certainly has the clearance to know the particulars, it does not mean that he does, and Spock is loathe to reveal these particulars, even to someone who could find them out himself. Additionally, Captain Pike does not have the necessary clearance, and while he does not think that James Kirk would allow his presence if he did not wish him to know, or had not already told him, Spock cannot be certain and there is no way for him to ask.

"Commander," Admiral Archer snaps. "Is this a joke to you?"

"No, sir," he answers. He doesn't find any of this funny at all.

James Kirk steps up next to him and rests a hand on his shoulder. Spock resists the urge to flinch and shoots him a disapproving look. The contact is not skin on skin, but any casual contact is discouraged. James Kirk is very well aware of Vulcan customs.

Then again, his point of contact for Vulcan culture is Sybok. His brother had been significantly more... affectionate after Tarsus IV. Spock wonders if that's something he picked up from his association with James Kirk.

"It's alright," James Kirk says warmly. "Spock, tell Admiral Archer whatever you want him to know."

He doesn't remove his hand. Human's run hot, their physiology not perfectly calibrated to survive in the deep heat of the desert, but even still James Kirk's hand feels unusually warm.

"I was unaware of Cadet Kirk's background with facing impossible odds when I made my accusation," he says. "Having been made aware of it, my perspective has shifted. Cadet Kirk does not allow rules or the constraints of logic prevent him from doing what he believes must be done. This was what he was demonstrating by bypassing and reprogramming my system."

He can feel James Kirk staring at him but he doesn't take his eyes of Admiral Archer.

Admiral Archer frowns. "You didn't know he was on Tarsus IV with your brother?"

That he already knows is a source of relief. The incredulity is less.

"Spock had exams the time I went to Vulcan," James Kirk says. "Sybok loves an excuse to go off-planet, so we usually meet up on Earth. Spock and I have never met before." He turns to him with a grin that Spock is distinctly uncomfortable having aimed in his direction. "I should have known the second I saw you. You look a lot like your mother."

Being compared to one's mother on Vulcan is a high compliment. Or it's supposed to be. Spock's had those same words hurled at him before, but it was with cruelty, as a way to demean him rather than honor the woman who bore him.

James Kirk say the words easily, exactly as they are intended to be spoken.

"You're driving me to drink," Admiral Archer says.

Spock has no idea how to appropriately respond to that.

"What about me? You're driving me to drink," James Kirk says, "which is driving Bones to as of yet unknown heights of nagging. The stress isn't good for him but he keeps threatening me with hypos when I tell him that. Can't I just be concerned for my friend?"

That is not an appropriate response on top of being incomprehensible.

Admiral Archer rubs his forehead. "Chris."

"Sir," Captain Pike returns, grabs the back of James Kirk's jacket, and hauls him out of there like grabbing a wayward kitten by the scruff of its neck.

Spock stands there, unsure, until Admiral Archer glances up and says, "You too, Commander. I'll consider this matter closed."

He nods, "Thank you, Sir," and steps outside to an empty hall. Captain Pike and James Kirk are nowhere to be seen.

Once he returns to his quarters, he video calls his brother.

He doesn't pick up.

Typical.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

OverProtective (Spock TOS)

Description: After Y/N hurts herself on a mission, Spock becomes overprotective

Word Count: 1,257

Request:Could you please do a Data x Reader or Spock x Reader fan ficm. Preferably where he is protective of the reader. Smut or no smut is fine just have fun with it! But if you don't want to that's totally understandable, thank you!

Y/N sat on the bed as Bones examined her broken arm. “You’re gonna need surgery.” He tells her and she sighs. Great. The mission couldn’t have gone worse…well she could be dead. Bones had given her a lot of sprays to numb the pain and she was very thankful that but if she even looks at her arm she feels the pain. Spock was through the door moments later. Y/N couldn’t even look at him as she could tell that in his own way he was glaring at her for not being more careful. “It uh it wasn’t my fault.” She told him and she knew that if he allowed himself he would have rolled his eyes. “You are going to need surgery for that.” He tells her as if Bones didn’t already. “She knows that you pointy eared hobgoblin. Now go.” He tells Spock so he can fix her arm. 

It’s been awhile since that had happened and Spock would not let her out of his sight. Even with her arm better she hasn’t been on a mission in so long and couldn’t understand why. Did the Captain think that this would happen again? Kirk actually assigned her to a few missions but Spock removed her from them and assigned someone else. Y/N had no idea about this until she went to talk to Kirk about it. “I assigned you to a few missions Y/N but Spock took you off them for your safety.” Her eyes widened and she couldn’t believe that her boyfriend would do such a thing. She was mad and the look on her face said so, so when Kirk left the room with an awkward goodbye Y/N ran to their quarters. Spock had the day off but he was gonna wish he hadn’t. “So you’re the reason why I haven’t gone on any missions?” Y/N accused him. “I reassigned you from them for your safety.” He tells her not bothered by her outbursts. “What the fuck, Spock. That is not okay. Why would you do that?” It was like she had missed the part about being concerned for her safety. “I want you to be safe and on missions you do not seem to be.” Her eyes widened. “One mission goes wrong and you do this?” “Y/N it is not my intention to make you mad at me but you must understand that your life was on the line.” “Your life is on the line all the time Spock” “Yes but I am Vulcan so it is much harder for me to be harmed.” She laughed. A sarcastic and unbelievable laugh. “So this is what this is about? You view me as a weak human and you think you are better than me.” “I did not say that.” “Spock you say it all the time to Kirk and Bones in your own twisted way!” She yelled at him. “You aren’t my mother, you don’t get to tell me what to do and take away opportunities from me!” She goes on. “I am your superior, I am above you in the line of work.” Oh wow. “Okay Spock I don’t care. You are not to reassign me from missions or else.” “If that is how you feel then maybe we should.” But before he could finish his sentence she held up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t try that on me because you think it is illogical to argue. It is illogical for you to mess with your girlfriend’s work.” 

Christine and Y/N sat in her quarters as they ate and talked about what happened. “Like he thinks that’s okay and for what? He has no right to do that and it’s like everytime we get in to an argument he tries to end the relationship.” Christine listens as Y/N rants about him. “Spock is just like that. But I do know this. He loves you very much.” Y/N rolled her eyes at that. She started to not believe that. “Think about it. He doesn’t want you getting hurt and yes he’s going about it the wrong way but still.” Y/N sighed. Christine was right Spock was being overprotective but he was going overboard with it. 

Y/N decided to spend the night in Christine’s quarters not wanting to deal with Spock. She forgot to tell him about it since she was so mad at him. In the morning, she had gotten up and Christine was already gone. So she left her quarters and returned to hers to see that Spock was also already gone. She yawned and decided to take a shower before her shift. She headed to the bridge where everyone was and Spock noticed her. She didn’t even look in his direction. Spock had no idea where she was and he couldn’t even think until he saw that she was okay. “Morning Y/N.” “Morning Kirk.” She said and got to her station that was unfortunately right by Spock’s. “You did not attend our quarters last night. I was worried.” She thought about ignoring him but he never admits his emotions. “I was sleeping at Christine’s.” She said without looking at him. “I would like to be notified when you decide you would not like to sleep in our quarters.” That just made her more angry. “And I would like a boyfriend that isn’t up my ass about everything and ruins my opportunity to go on missions.” She growled at him. “It is not my attempt to stop you from going to work but with your recent injury it is logical that you do not go on any.” “Spock my arm is healed, you can stop with that bullshit.” “It is not bullshit. It is me loving you!” The Bridge stared at the Vulcan. Y/N stared at her boyfriend in shock. He had never had an outbursts or even yelled let alone at work. Without asking Kirk if he could be excused he left. “Sure Spock you are excused.” Kirk mumbled. Y/N shook her head and got back to work. 

It never left her mind. His outburst and the fact that he admitted to loving her in public. He rarely ever said it. It never bothered her that he didn’t say it she knew that he loved her. She loved him but she was getting sick of him babying her. She sighed and opened their quarters door. “Spock are you in here?” She asked. She saw him at his desk and he looked tired. “Spock are you okay?” She asked and walked closer to him. “I do not know.” He said and truthfully that worried her. “Spock you’ve never done that before.” She said and sat next to him. “I know and that is why I had to leave my station. I think I am sick.” Y/N held back a laugh. He wasn’t sick. He just wasn’t used to having that much emotion. “Spock you’re not sick. We both are just frustrated with the situation. I love you Spock and I don’t want us leaving each other but you have to let me be me and go on missions and do my job.” She said. “I apologize for holding you back.” He said and looked at her. “You don’t hold me back Spock but this was a little annoying.” She said and he understood that this job was never promised to be easy. “Now how about you relax the rest of the night and maybe take Tomorrow off. You need rest.” She tells him. He looks at her and smirks. “Now who’s being overprotective?”

[wwillywonka]

spock crying in the the motion picture novelization

as i was watching star trek the motion picture today, i found myself wondering how closely it and the book align only to find that the essential scene, the thesis statement of the tmp story, where spock draws a direct parallel between v'ger and himself while crying is simply... not in the book. i know the version that's more widely available now is the director's cut and that said scene wasn't even in the original theatrical release, but the movie is simply incomplete without it. so! i decided to write out the scene as if it were in the book! please enjoy my take on a prose version of spock's beautiful speech

“Spock?” Then, when his Science Officer did not answer, “Mr. Spock.”

Kirk rose from the captain’s chair and made for the console where Spock sat, facing away from him towards the screen that displayed Vejur’s activity.

“I think -" Kirk began.

Then, Spock turned towards him in his chair, hand releasing from its resting place against the thin line of his mouth. He was — crying. A single, shimmering tear was streaking down his left cheek. His eyes, usually so dark and, since his return from Vulcan, so indecipherable, now shone brightly under the dim, warm light of the bridge. His eyebrows crinkled inwards, not in contemplative thought but, and Kirk would have never guessed, worry. It seemed that open, unashamed emotion left over from Spock’s mind meld with the intruder had not yet dissipated, though Kirk was unsure if Spock’s tears were more Vejur’s than his own.

Spock nodded his head, lifting it a little towards his captain, slightly accusatorily. There was no attempt to hide, no apologetic aversion of gaze. It seemed as if he were telling Jim, “Yes, believe what you are seeing, Captain.

“I have returned.”

Kirk felt McCoy step into place at his side, the doctor’s eyes settling on the now multiple tears pooling down Spock’s face. The captain shared a look with McCoy, acknowledging their mutual concern and astonishment towards their friend.

“Not for us,” Kirk finally stated.

“No, Captain. Not for us.” Spock’s voice, if perhaps a little softer than usual, was confident, steady, calm. Certain. “For Vejur.”

Spock raised his hands, intertwining the fingers in a familiar, thoughtful gesture, but kept them suspended in the air, fidgeting.

Commander Decker approached, too, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the image before him. Kirk showed no sign of acknowledging his presence, the captain’s attention entirely focused on his friend.

“I weep for Vejur as I would for a brother," Spock continued. "As I was when I came aboard, so is Vejur now. Empty, incomplete, and searching. Logic and knowledge are not enough.”

Kirk thought back to every argument, every insistent remark Spock made during their initial five-year mission about his lack of emotion, about his fundamental inability to consider anything else but logic and careful reasoning. Were these out of desperation, a need for the humans of the old Enterprise crew to accept his words as fact so that he, too, could cement their validity? Maybe in Spock’s mind, the more times he declared it, the closer it would be to coming true.

“Spock,” McCoy cut in, colliding reality with Kirk’s thoughts and Spock’s poetic words. “Are you saying that you’ve found what you needed, but Vejur hasn’t?” Decker spoke first. “What would Vejur need to fulfill itself?” Spock moved his gaze towards the main screen, just past Kirk’s head in his line of sight. “Each of us, at some time in our lives, turns towards someone: a father, a brother, a god… and asks, ‘Why am I here? What was I meant to be?’” He took in a sharp breath. “Vejur hopes to touch its creator-“ And now, he lifted his gaze, meeting Kirk’s eyes. “To find its answers.”

“‘Is this all that I am?’” said the captain, quoting Spock’s words from their conversation in sickbay. “‘Is there nothing more?’”

[thedeepgreensea]

Steps, light and measured but steps nonetheless, ring through the kitchen, coming closer until the beaded curtains to the porch jingle as Spock steps through them. It's only just light enough to make out his sleep-mussed hair, although he seems to have tried to smooth it down with his hands. A sliver of pale skin shines though between the button-up he threw over his shirt and the cotton pants that sit on his hips.

Jim blinks up at him.

“Did I wake you?”

Spock shrugs, rounding the table and sitting down on the rocking chair opposite Jim, almost close enough for their legs to touch.

“I got enough sleep.”

“So I did wake you.”

Another shrug. Jim pours some coffee into his empty mug, offers it to Spock and he accepts, seemingly too tired to even complain about the taste.

The first slivers of sunlight begin climbing over the hills and Jim looks over to see Spock watching attentively, taking a sip of his coffee every now and then.

“This your first sunrise here?”

Spock nods. “First one in ages, to be honest. I haven't had the time to really look at one since I- since I was a child, probably.”

“You work too much, Mr. Spock.”, Jim criticizes playfully, nudging Spock's foot.

“Not all of us can live on their families ranch, Mr. Kirk.”, Spock quips back, eyes leaving the horizon that took a deep golden colour and landing back on Jim.

Jim feels his breath catch. Something inside him claws at his chest, desperate to get closer to Spock. The morning is warm enough to sit outside without blankets, a screaming reminder of summer coming. Summer, when Spock leaves. He doesn't want Spock to leave, and the thought scares him.

You could live here, though., Jim thinks. You could stay.

“Let's go inside.”, Jim says.

“Breakfast is my treat, since I woke you up. What are you in the mood for?”

“Anything as long as I can get a decent tea with it.”, Spock murmurs, leaning over the porch railing to empty the remains of the now cold coffee onto the grass.

“Finally awake enough to complain about the coffee! I was getting worried there. I'll put on the kettle.”

_____

Snippet of the cowboy au bcuz I fear I'll lose interest in it before I finish it so I wanna at least share some scenes :')

With art because idk how well text posts r gonna do on here-

[queerfables]

Taking away the glass?

Oh gosh I'm actually so keen to talk about this so thank you for the opening!

Context: Responding to akaitsukicat's artwork of Crowley and Aziraphale separated by a glass wall, I said that the reason we're all such wrecks over their kiss is because after 6000 years in canon and 33 years in real life, that kiss was "taking away the glass".

The glass is a metaphor that media scholar Henry Jenkins uses to explain the appeal of slash, originally published in 1993. Here, "slash" refers to queer re-interpretation of heterosexual media, including transformative works exploring those readings.

This is what Jenkins says about the glass:

When I try to explain slash to non-fans, I often reference that moment in Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan where Spock is dying and Kirk stands there, a wall of glass separating the two longtime buddies. Both of them are reaching out towards each other, their hands pressed hard against the glass, trying to establish physical contact. They both have so much they want to say and so little time to say it. Spock calls Kirk his friend, the fullest expression of their feelings anywhere in the series. Almost everyone who watches the scene feels the passion the two men share, the hunger for something more than what they are allowed. And, I tell my nonfan listeners, slash is what happens when you take away the glass. The glass, for me, is often more social than physical; the glass represents those aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men, which block the possibility of true male friendship. Slash is what happens when you take away those barriers and imagine what a new kind of male friendship might look like. One of the most exciting things about slash is that it teaches us how to recognize the signs of emotional caring beneath all the masks by which traditional male culture seeks to repress or hide those feelings.

The vid I refer to, inspired by Jenkin's comments, is The Glass by thingswithwings. It's a beautiful vid, sad and hopeful and empowering, with a very moving commentary on fandom history. It was originally published in 2008, which is relevant to understanding the position it takes in the dialogue around queer relationships in media.

Here's thingswithwings' summary of the vid, as it appears on YouTube:

Henry Jenkins, speaking of the Spock death scene from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, said, "slash is what happens when you take away the glass." It has been said, in response, that death also happens when you take away the glass. ie, if you took away the glass Kirk would die of radiation poisoning too; the barrier between desiring men cannot be removed on pain of death. Homosexuality, or just loving touch between two people of the same gender, is equivalent to death in this media narrative. One of the interesting things about slash is the way it takes away the glass, then puts it back, then takes it away, then puts it back, often pleasurably. I think this is both problematic and powerful. It is problematic because it reasserts the impossibility of the touch (it fetishizes oppression in a negative manner); it is powerful - and good - because it dwells on and thinks about and removes the glass (it fetishizes oppression in a transformative manner). One of the interesting things about mainstream media is that it continues to put the glass back up, no matter how hard we try to tear it down. Queer desiring touches have been, and remain, imaginable but impossible. TL;DR ALTERNATE SUMMARY: THERE SEEMS TO BE SOME KIND OF INVISIBLE BARRIER IDK WHAT IT MIGHT BE

In regards to Good Omens, it's relevant that this entire conversation about homosocial relationships in media takes place within the 29 year period between the publication of Good Omens the book and the adaptation of the story to screen. The vid was created 15 years ago - which is to say 18 years after the book was published and 11 years before season 1 was released - and it talks about realised queer desire in mainstream media as being so impossible that it is equivalent to death. That is the kind of resistance that queer representation in pop culture has been up against, these last three decades.

Crowley/Aziraphale, as depicted in the book, is such a classic example of slash. I've seen some people who read the book in a contemporary context saying they didn't necessarily pick up on any subtext between the characters, and I suspect this is a mark of cultural expectations. Firstly, because the cultural references that the intentional subtext relies on have become obscured over time - see Neil Gaiman's explanation of the "consenting cycle repairmen" line. But more importantly because the audience's frame of reference for unintentional subtext has shifted, too. What is unsayable and which silences are emotionally loaded has changed over time. Even if you are intentionally using a queer lens in your reading, you might not see subtext in the same places that someone would even 10 years ago.

For example, take this passage from the book:

On the whole, neither [Aziraphale] nor Crowley would have chosen each other's company, but they were both men, or at least men-shaped creatures, of the world, and the Arrangement had worked to their advantage all this time. Besides, you grew accustomed to the only other face that had been around more or less consistently for six millennia.

On it's face, this line suggests that the relationship between the two of them is a matter of convenience more than desire. Maybe that's the intended reading and maybe that's how it started or how they justify their association to themselves, but taken together with how deeply they know each other and how they are always each other's first thought in a crisis, suddenly "neither would have chosen the other's company" sounds like an extremely British way to say they care about each other far more than they were supposed to. Plus, this is Aziraphale's take on their relationship, and it plays rather beautifully against Crowley's much simpler expression of the exact same sentiment:

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

To go back to Henry Jenkin's wise words, what we're seeing here is Aziraphale thinking about Crowley through the glass - through the "aspects of traditional masculinity which prevent emotional expressiveness or physical intimacy between men". If you came up in slash fandom at a time when seeing queer relationships in canon was unthinkable, you probably find it easier to identify the gap between how Aziraphale thinks about his relationship with Crowley and how their relationship actually functions. That gap was where a lot of slash lived.

You might say that the book shows Crowley and Aziraphale watching each other through the glass, and season 1 is them pressing up against it. They're still prevented from showing the full depth of feeling between them, they still hunger for more than they're allowed, but they are reaching for it. We see the history of their relationship developing through the ages. The unsayable is still left unsaid, but we feel the weight of it in everything they do. They come so very close but they still can't cross that threshold.

And then there's season 2. Within the text, Crowley and Aziraphale are not just pressing against the glass, they're actively trying to dismantle it. They're searching for a door to the other side. They're inspecting for weak points where they could cut their way through. And then suddenly they're out of time and out of options and the glass is still between them, and there's nothing they can do.

As the audience, you feel that desperation. You feel that grief. And if you're someone who's been watching the glass go back up on every relationship you thought might stand a chance of tearing it down, it hits hard. You're longing vicariously with the characters, but you're longing for yourself too, to see queer desire made possible. To see queer touch made not just imaginable but real.

And then, with all hope lost, Crowley throws himself through the glass. It doesn't matter that it doesn't save them. They kiss and it changes everything. Queer desire is no longer up for debate. Queer touch is no longer impossible. They kiss and the glass shatters, entirely and irrevocably.

This is why it matters so much that they did kiss, even though the love between them was already undeniable. For thirty years, Crowley and Aziraphale were part of a media landscape that relentlessly reinforced the glass at every turn and flooded fatal radiation through any crack they couldn't fix. In a different context, that kiss would be less vital to affirming their relationship. But in the world we live in, with the specific history that this story has, I don't think anything else could have done what it did. The glass between these characters had been reinforced over decades, in a culture that made the barriers to open intimacy between men inescapable. Their kiss was what it took to break it.

And by shattering the glass, this story has fundamentally rewritten what is possible. It proves the rules preventing true affection between people of the same gender can be defied. Queer people are already becoming more visible in pop culture; we're no longer reliant on slash reimagining queer longing between heterosexual leads. But Crowley and Aziraphale's kiss is cathartic and vindicating in an entirely different way. It turns slash into intentional queerness. It takes a fetishisation of oppression vacillating between problematic and transformative, and finally stands up on the side of powerful, empowering transformation. It confronts the barriers that once rendered this desiring touch impossible, and breaks through them once and for all.

That's what taking away the glass means. That's what Good Omens did.

[sleepymccoy]

“I can go last, Jim,” McCoy offered. 

“Ah, hush, you're up.”

“Really, I'm sending you as a final test case in case the transport's still playing up. Gives them a chance to fix it for me.”

Jim clapped his shoulder and nodded his head to the side. 

So McCoy squeezed Jim's hand and left. He decided not to think about the cold, instead just hunkering his head down and walking into the clearing. It was probably only twenty seconds until he felt the tingle that meant the transporter was trying. It threatened for longer than usual - disconcerting - before taking hold and the view of the snowy forest was replaced with the transporter room. 

Oh, it was warm here. McCoy let out a shuddering breath and wiggled his fingers and toes to check they were still on right. 

“Take his weapon,” Jim said. McCoy looked up fast, scanning the room. Green and Singh were still here. A transporter tech McCoy had met but whose name he didn't recall. Jim and Spock. Jim?

Singh stepped up on the plate and swiftly took the phaser from McCoy's side. McCoy couldn't care less about that.

He looked at Spock seriously as Singh's hands went to his arms and led him off the transporter. “Spock, that's not Jim,” McCoy entreated. “You were talking to Jim on the planet just now, you know that's not- !”

“Leo?” Jim asked.

McCoy was gobsmacked. “What the fuck did you just call me?” 

Spock spoke. “You know this man, Captain?” His voice was slightly gravelly, pitched just a hint lower than McCoy was used to. It reminded McCoy of when they were rudely awoken by an emergency and Spock's voice was raw from sleep. 

Jim turned away, addressing the transporter tech. “Where's Mr Scott? Is he alright?”

“I'm not registering anyone left on the planet, Sir.”

“Okay,” McCoy interrupted. “This isn't a prank, ‘cause no way in sweet ‘n savoury hell would you get Spock onside. What's going on?” His arms were pinned to his side but he could reach to wrap his hands together for some extra warmth.

“You're Leonard McCoy,” Jim said, “I think we had a few classes together at the academy. You're on the Enterprise. Jim Kirk, I'm Captain here. Where have we picked you up from? Tell us your side of things.”

“I know I'm on the damned Enterprise, Jim, what I don't know is why you all don't know me!”

-

Two Thirds of a Whole

Otherwise known as McCoy's no good, very confusing day in a parallel universe where he never joined the Enterprise, told with a spones bent

The story is basically my exploration of what the enterprise would be like without McCoy. With some making out with Spock added in for good measure.

[muirmarie]

i do tho need to have mccoy dragged into any/all situations at all times. i need him to exist, and be sitting innocently by himself, and then be fully dragged into a Situation, be it a relationship or a girls' night or what have you.

the girls' night is my point, btw. i need:

the crew staying at a fancy hotel for a fancy work shindig

mccoy grabbing a drink by himself at the hotel bar

chapel and uhura dropping by to grab a drink (#pregaming) and making small talk with mccoy

them bullying him into coming upstairs to their room to show him something vaguely work related (looking back: this was clearly a lie)

he is now trapped in their room. they are getting ready to go out, but they're still talking to him. he is too southern gentleman polite to just leave.

his fingernails are getting painted. they actually look really great so he can't even complain. but he's going to complain anyway.

they are ignoring his complaining.

there are now five other women in this room. he's a little tipsy. someone is doing his eyeliner.

is he allowed to leave?

no, no chapel and uhura have informed him he's not allowed to leave. hmm.

oh, they're all going to a club.

uhura, he loves you, but he's a doctor, not a -

what a great point all twelve (12??) of you make. to the club he will go.

he's not a dancer, he's -

all right, he has been informed he's both a doctor and a dancer

i mean, this is actually pretty fun.

he does actually know how to dance quite well, he took lessons, he just -

chapel if you are filming this he is going to -

excuse him one moment someone is being a creep and he needs to go stand menacingly behind his girls (who will definitely clean the floor with said creep, but still.)

oh look jim kirk rushing to the rescue what a shocker

sorry jim i have been informed that i am not allowed to hang out with you and spock tonight. i am otherwise occupied.

christine, are they allowed to -

no, jim, you are not allowed to hang out with us. it's girls' night.

jim i swear to fuck this is not me not allowing you i don't even know why i am here jim i -

yes, spock, i am wearing nail polish. thank you. that's nice of you to say.

hold on, is nail polish something like???? sexy??? for vulcans???? because of y'alls hand kinks????

lmao jim look at how much he's blushing

i don't care how good i looked - if you took a video of me dancing james tiberius kirk i will end you. i will end -

oh wait sorry i have just been informed i have to go. we're going to another club.

(help me)

[hurt-spock]

Blood (complete fic)

He could feel the sheer joy in the air around him.

McCoy, flying the bee had successfully manoeuvred the craft in time that they were able to save Jim's life, who in turn, had just defeated Krall and saved everyone on Yorktown.

McCoy was whooping with joy as he tried to find a way to land, while Kirk struggled to recover from his fight with Krall and Spock said nothing. He didn't monitor McCoy's attempts to land and he didn't engage Jim in conversation.

Instead he focused on himself. On his ebbing energy, on the injury that had been ripped and torn as he pulled against the sheer force pulling Jim away from him. He'd been certain he'd be pulled out along with the Captain but somehow, he'd managed to get him inside, but it cost him and he couldn't let them know that until they landed.

“Bones, what are you doing?” Kirk asked as the craft seemed to be ascending again.

“I have no idea how to land, okay. I don't want to crash again. One crash landing a life time is enough for me. Besides, I don't think you or Spock could stomach that.”

Kirk shook his head. “I'm fine, surface damage is all,” he assured. He looked to Spock, expecting him to insist he was fine too but Spock wasn't paying any attention to them any more, staring at some spot on the floor. “You need some help, Bones?” Kirk asked.

“If you think you can figure out how to land this, be my guest.” Bones shot back.

Kirk got up and headed towards the front, a supportive hand on Spock's shoulder as he passed.

Spock could hear them trying to figure out landing and soon enough, with a slight bump, they had landed safely.

He got up as the pair headed back towards him, swaying a little as he first got up. Jim headed out first and Spock heard the familiar voices of the crew as they greeted him. A little longer, Spock told himself. He steadied himself and McCoy scrutinise him. He was about to take a step closer, likely to assist him but Spock shook his head. “Not in front of the crew, Doctor.” Spock insisted.

“Whatever,” McCoy huffed heading out first, Spock following behind. He wondered vaguely if he'd offended the Doctor but he had to focus on suppressing the pain as they made his way after Jim, who seemed to be taking the crowds of the crew with him, McCoy just in his wake and Spock close behind him. He almost found himself faltering in his steps, the pace steady but each steps jolted the wound and he felt nausea rise in him.

Spock saw Kirk giving direction to Sulu and Chekov and them taking groups of the crew with them to different areas. Spock couldn't focus on what they were saying and he almost walked into Kirk and McCoy who had stopped just in front of him.

Kirk held onto his arm to steady him.

“You okay? You gonna collapse on me again?” McCoy asked.

Spock didn't feel particularly steady on his feet right then. “Unknown,” he said as a way of answering.

McCoy had noticed he'd gone back to covering his wound with his hand again. He wondered if there was a green patch forming underneath. Kirk headed into a building, McCoy and Spock following behind. Once they stepped inside, Spock turned to one of the workers in the building. “Do you have a restroom?” he asked. He was pointed towards a door and Spock headed for it. He heard McCoy call Jim's name and footsteps follow behind him.

He got through the door and braced himself at the sink.

He hung his head as he concentrated on breathing.

“What's wrong with him?” Jim asked.

“He just needs to get some proper medical care, that's all.” Bones said.

“So what are we doing in here?”

“Just give him a minute, okay.”

“He's not looking so good,” Kirk observed.

Spock took that moment to vomit in the sink.

“That's why we're in here,” McCoy said reaching over Spock and turning the tap on.

“He's bleeding again,” Kirk stated, pointing out the fresh blood on Spock's hand.

“Why don't you go and find out where the nearest transporter is. Once he's done in here that's the next stop.”

Kirk hesitated a moment before relenting and heading out.

Spock balked a few more times before he was finished. He scooped up a little water in one hand, which shook terribly, McCoy noticed, and rinsed his mouth out. “We'll get you out of here in a minute,” he promised. “I'll have you on the table, unconscious in seconds. You'll feel much better when you wake up.”

“Less pain, maybe. They will have no blood.” despite the choppy sentence, McCoy got the drift and he knew he was right.

That was true enough. If Spock needed surgery they were out of luck because there was little chance his body could withstand an operation on top of everything else. “Don't you worry about that.”

Spock didn't answer, instead turning back to the sink and vomiting again. That wasn't a good sign. Kirk got back just after Spock had finished cleaning his mouth out after the second bout of sickness.

“There's a medical unit on standby,” he said to McCoy.

McCoy nodded. “Grab his other arm,” he said.

Spock resisted the grip. “The crew-” he started.

“They're not out there, don't worry.” Kirk said.

They got to the door before Spock dropped to a dead weight in their arms.

“Crap!” Kirk said as the pair struggled to keep Spock off the floor. They made it through the door.

“We need some help here!” McCoy called. Several people came over and assisted them to the transporter. Kirk typed in the co-ordinates and they were gone in seconds.

2.

“So?”

“It's a damn mess is what it is,” the doctor said as he entered into the room where Kirk and McCoy were waiting.

“Yeah, I know but there wasn't a lot of options out there.”

“Take it easy, Bones.” Kirk said, feeling the tension rise.

“There's a number of problems not least of which is that he's of mixed race and we don't have his blood here. I can't even begin to fix the damage because if something goes wrong, I have no back up supplies. We barely have supplies of Vulcan blood here, what with the Vulcan disaster. So the best I can do is a temporary fix that will hold him together to stop him losing more blood.”

“Pretty much the same as the Protophaser,” McCoy tells Jim.

“That's what you used? No wonder it tore. They were okay if you're laid up in bed. Even slight actions and they start to give way.”

“Okay, so you can patch him up until we can get him somewhere else then?” Kirk pressed

“No. The other problem, and don't take this the wrong way,” he said turning his attention to Bones. “Is that when you used the heat seal on the wound it's caused an infection. I've looked at his files and half of what I think would maybe work on him is either non-affective or he's had a reaction to at some point according to his medical files. I don't know what I can do for him.”

A knock at the door and a nurse appeared. “Doctor, you're needed.”

He nodded to her. “If you can think of anything then call me. I can't leave that infection untreated for long before I have to try something and I don't want to make this worse.”

Kirk nodded his understanding, McCoy deep in thought. Once the door closed and they were alone, McCoy sank onto the seat. “Dammit, this is all my fault.”

“Of course it's not your fault. He'd already be dead if it wasn't for you.”

“I know the risk of a heat seal. It dramatically increases the chance of infection.”

“So what other choice did you have? Leave him impaled, walking around? Because I'm sure that the piece of metal in his was completely sterile itself, right? And I'm sure crash landing on an alien planet there could have been nothing that could infect him out there either.”

Bones rested his head in his hands. He was exhausted. Everything was supposed to be okay now. He couldn't think straight. “I don't know what to do.” He confessed.

“Yes you do. I believe in you, Bones. Look, you can help him. I wish I could but I can't. So you tell me what you need me to do and I'll make it happen. People, equipment, whatever. I'll get it.”

“I need... coffee. I need a room, access to Spock's files. I need to contact New Vulcan. I new Miller, Mar'xia and Faeri from my staff- damn, I don't even know if they made it, Jim.”

“I'll find out.”

“You need to tell Uhura before she hears it from someone else.”

“I'll do it.”

“And.. I need to see Spock before I do anything else.”

~

“He's sedated, but he might come round if you're examining him.” the Nurse said.

“Do you have the scan of the injury?” Bones asked.

“They're all on this PADD here,” she indicated to one at the foot of the bed.

“Thank you.”

“I'll be outside if you need me.”

McCoy nodded. He waited for the nurse to leave before he really took a look at Spock. The colour of his face looked off. He always looked pale but this looked more than just a bit pale. Even his lips had lost the colour.

He turned to Spock's injured side and removed the thin sheets covering Spock's body. One look and he could see the signs of infection. There were areas of the skin where the heal seal had been ripped apart again and resealed by the doctor here. The skin was inflamed and weeping. The doctor was right, they couldn't afford to leave this for long before they had to treat it.

He covered Spock back over before he moved round to the PADD and took a look at the scans. He could see how close the injury was to several vital arteries. Completing the surgery without nicking one would be tricky.

At least the surgery could wait. Spock wouldn't be up and moving any time soon, but he was stable with the injury as it was. What he couldn't survive was the infection if that took hold.

His focus had to be on that.

He turned to leave before a familiar voice spoke to him.

“Doctor?”

McCoy sighed and turned back round.

“Did it work? Did we save the Captain?”

“You don't remember? Yeah, we did. Jim's fine.”

“For that, I am grateful.” Spock could barely keep his eyes open and McCoy realised he must be fighting off the sedation.

“You need to rest,” he told him.

“Don't tell Jim I wanted to leave,” he said. “He might not understand.”

“I'm not telling him anything.”

“And Nyota. Tell her... I am sorry.”

“Tell her yourself, I'm not your delivery service.” McCoy replied softly. “Come on, you really need to rest. I need you to keep fighting this.”

Spock winced in pain and curled himself up slightly.

“I'm gonna go. I need to find a way to make you better, okay? Just rest. It'll be over soon.”

McCoy said and he paced out of the room, leaving Spock alone.

He shuddered in fresh pain as his body started to fall into the grip of fever.

His eyes closed, welcoming darkness.

3.

It was like the heat controls of the Enterprise had broken. He always had his room a comfortable level for a Vulcan, though he frequently turned them down if Nyota came to spend time with him there.

He was thinking how he needed to go and visit Mr Scott about the issue, see if he needed help fixing it, but something stopped him from doing anything, from moving.

And then he remembered that none of it was real.

The Enterprise was in pieces on Altamid and he was in some medical facility. He recalled Doctor McCoy and Jim being with him at some point but neither were currently present.

Jim had been fighting before that and he couldn't remember if he had faired well.

Maybe he was being treated here too. That would also explain McCoy's absence.

He decided that he would locate the pair to see how the Captain was doing, but as he pushed himself up onto his elbows a wave of heat came over him and he realised the heat from his sleep wasn't part of a dream but that something was wrong with him. He could feel his muscles tremble as he tried to remain upright but he realised seeking out the Captain wasn't going to happen and he let gravity assist him laying back down. He was all but panting with exertion, sweat beading across his brow.

That was when McCoy decided to enter and Spock felt relief at the sight of the man.

McCoy took one look at him before taking several large steps and being bedside him in seconds. He checked monitors and notes before he turned his attention back to Spock. “In case you can't guess, you're suffering from a fever.”

“Jim?” Spock asked, surprised by his hoarse voice.

“His fine. He'll be by to see you soon, if that's what you want.”

Spock nodded dumbly and closed his eyes. The lights were bright and he wanted to go back to sleep.

“Any pain?”

“No.”

“Well, at least we sorted one problem out.” McCoy muttered.

“There are others?”

“Besides the fact we can't operate due to lack of blood and we can't treat the infection because I don't know what to give you that's not going to make you worse, you're pretty much good to go.”

“It is possible... to mix the correct dosage of human and... Vulcan blood.” Spock muttered looking to the doctor, to see if he understood.

“Yeah, I know it's possible Spock, but they don't have a lot of blood to begin with. Most Vulcans are on New Vulcan so there's not a high demand for it all over the galaxy.”

“You think I should be on Vulcan. With my own kind.” Spock said. It wasn't a question. He closed his eyes again.

“What? How did you get that from what I said?”

“It is true though. You think I belong with my own kind.”

McCoy exhaled loudly. “Shut up, Spock. Now this,” he held up a shot before injecting it into Spock's neck. “Should help bring this damn fever down.”

“Jim is wrong.” Spock mutters quietly.

“About what?”

“He does not need me. The longer I remain by his side, the more I will hold him back. He does not have the confidence in himself he should have as I have stifled him.”

“He has confidence in himself. All that stuff he says about how he needs you and he doesn't know what he'd do without you, he doesn't mean as a Captain, he means as a person. Your his friend and you give him something that no one else on the crew can because only you are you. I don't know why I'm bothering to have this conversation with you when you're like this. Go to sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up.”

“You told me that last time, Doctor.”

“Hush.”

4.

“Sir, we got this, you need to go.” Miller had said to him.

They'd theorized some formula's that could help Spock's infection and they were going to prepare them. Miller had told him he looked dead on his feet, that he should get some sleep and he had intended to do just that, but he stopped by to check on Spock first and had never left.

The last shot had done nothing for Spock's fever, it was still steadily rising. He checked the wound and was certain it looked worse than the last time, swollen and weeping still. He changed the dressing on it, cleaned it the best he could.

The increase in temperature seemed to be accompanied by an increase in pain. Spock's was still unconscious but restless.

Spock woke suddenly, as if startled. He sat up a little before laying his head back down and closing his eyes.

“What do you need?” McCoy asked.

Spock said nothing but started to roll over on to his bad side. He grunted in pain, as McCoy helped him sit up enough and held him while he was sick.

“And this is why I can't go to sleep,” McCoy grumbled to himself as he held the small container for Spock to use. Once he was finished he helped him lay back down, grabbing a tissue and handing it over so Spock would wipe his mouth.

“Jim?”

“He's not here.” McCoy said.

“He did not know.”

“Didn't know what?”

“That he was my friend.”

“Of course he knows that.”

“I did not tell him.” Spock said, seemingly growing distressed. “What were the services like?”

“What?”

“The whole bridge crew. Gone.”

“No, they're not gone, they're fine they're just not here right now.”

“You should not lie to me, Doctor. I know.”

“I'm not lying to you. They're fine.”

There was a knock at the door and Chekov poked his head round the corner. “Doctor, I stopped by to see how the Commander was doing. Ensign Miller asked me to pass this along to you, Sir.”

“See, here's Chekov.”

Spock looked at the younger man sceptically. “I do not know how you are able to project these images-” Spock started.

“Give me that hypo,” McCoy gestured and Chekov passed it across. “We really need this to work.”

“I'm sure it will, Doctor.” Chekov said.

McCoy administered the shot and watched the Spock's stats as the pain reading decreased and his temperature seemed to stabilise. “Have you seen Jim?”

“He was talking with Lieutenant Uhura,” Chekov said. “She was most upset so I decided to come and see the Commander for myself. He is no better?”

“We get this fever sorted and I'll be happy. That's what's going to kill him right now. Not that it's going to kill him, it's in hand, you know.”

“I understand,” Chekov said. “You are tired, Doctor. I can stay here and watch him. Let you know if he needs you.”

“I can't just leave him.”

“He's asleep.” Chekov said, indicating to Spock.

“I don't know if I should go.”

“I will call you, Doctor. Anything change and I'll call you straight away. I promise.”

“Okay fine.” McCoy said. He set some alarms to sound if any of Spock's levels went too high or too low. “Anything starts beeping, you call me straight away, okay?”

“Aye, Sir.”

“And if Jim or Uhura stop by don't let them disturb him, okay?”

“Promise. Russian promise a good promise, Sir.”

McCoy smiled. “Okay, I'm going.”

5.

It had seemed like the right thing to do.

When Commander Spock has grown restless and somewhat distressed, Chekov thought back to how his Mother had comforted him as a child.

He'd spoke to him softly, tried to comfort him with hushed comforting words and when that had failed he had tried touch, somehow managing to forget everything he knew about Vulcan's being touch telepaths.

He couldn't tell you what happened next. He knew, when he was out of it and sat on the floor breathing heavily from the experience, that he had been in a mind meld with Spock. And he couldn't describe it.

Nothing was solid or real, it was feelings and experiences that he felt, he didn't see. What he did see didn't make much sense but then, he knew Spock was sick right now and it made sense that his thoughts weren't very clear.

He got himself back off the floor and looked at Spock who was sat up, looking at him, tears running down his face.

“Why were you think of my Mother?” he asked, his tone harsher than Chekov had ever had directed at him.

“I er... I did not think I was, Sir. I was thinking of my Mother.”

“That was not who I saw,” Spock accused.

“I- I suppose the truth is Mister Spock, that I think of her often. I should have been able to save her.” He couldn't look at the Vulcan as he spoke. “I carry it with me every day.”

Spock's expression lessened and he lay back down. “It was never your fault. I am to blame. In every sense. My other self was the reason Nero attacked-”

“That is not you-”

“More so, I went there to save my parents. I held my Mother's hand the whole time but let go to call the ship.” He let the words fade into the silence of the room. “I did not need to let her go.”

“It was not your fault. You should rest. You are still not well, Commander. I can get the Doctor for you. Would you like that?”

“Would you find Jim? I need to see that he is okay.”

“Yes Sir. I will do that. You will wait here and rest. I will be back very soon.”

He waited for Spock to settle back down before he left to find the Captain. Spock waited mere seconds after Chekov had left before he got out of bed and headed out the room.

6.

It was late by the time Jim got finished.

He ended up checking on several members of the crew who had been injured during the whole fiasco. The list of the deceased crew members was being compiled ready for his grisly task of contacting next of kin.

He only wanted to go through the process once.

Talking to Uhura had been painful. She was upset. She knew Spock had been injured but he'd done a good job of keeping the truth of the injury from her. So now she felt awful that she hadn't done more for him. And then she'd told him all about their relationship. That she wasn't sure what Spock wanted any more, but she was starting to think it wasn't her.

And Jim didn't really know what to say. He wanted to tell her that it was okay and that Spock loved her and they'd work this out, but he didn't know any more. When he thought about the last few months, he couldn't really remember much time he and Spock spent doing anything together. They used to play chess on some evenings. They often ate together.

But Spock had been busy in the labs. He'd been speaking to his Father on new Vulcan and eventually, they'd stopped doing anything together except their shifts. Jim knew he could have tried harder himself but he started to wonder about his own future and things snowballed.

So he couldn't tell Uhura they'd be fine because he didn't know himself any more. He hoped they would. She'd been through a lot with Spock and he'd hate to see they ruined now, after so long making it work.

She'd been too upset to see Spock and Jim told her Spock was resting right now. Told her to get some rest and come and see him in the morning when she felt a little better herself.

She nodded in agreement and headed off.

Even though it was now late into the night, Jim headed back to Bones so he could check up on Spock before getting some sleep himself.

Everywhere was quiet as it was the night time period on the station and Jim didn't see anyone as he made his way back towards the medical unit.

He hoped Bones had made progress. While he wouldn't admit it, Jim knew how worried he was about Spock. He'd been somewhat relieved that after Spock had been beamed aboard the Franklin and he'd doubled over in pain that Bones was the one who appeared seconds later. He knew that he'd been taking care of Spock the best he could and when he cracked out a joke about him and Spock being spliced together, it gave him a little hope that maybe Spock wasn't as badly injured as he thought.

The fact that he collapses seconds later had ruined that idea though.

He turned a corner and almost walked straight into Spock.

“Spock, what are you doing out here?” He asked though it was apparent that he was in no condition to be making any decisions himself. He had no top on, just the hospital's pants and Jim could see the dressing over the wound was in need of changing. Spock had nothing on his feet and despite the generally cool temperature in the facility, Jim could see a light sheen of sweat all over Spock.

“C'mon, I'll take you back to your room before Bones notices your gone.”

Spock didn't say anything and let Jim lead him back to his room and assist him into bed. He pulled the covers up over him, wanting Spock to be warm despite the heat radiating from him.

Pulling out his communicator, Jim called McCoy.

“What's up Jim?”

“Hey, I just came to visit Spock. When you get a chance, can you get someone to change his dressing. It's looking pretty funky.”

“I'm heading over there now.” he said and ended the call.

“You're not dead,” Spock said quietly.

“You saved me, remember?” Kirk said, smiling.

Spock grimaced in pain and Jim hoped McCoy got there soon. Spock had suffered nothing more than a few minor injuries on their missions before, a least to Jim's knowledge.

He was aware that Spock could be awfully cagey when it came to medical information, something that he thought Bones knew more about than he did but he stayed tight lipped about it as well.

“Why don't you try and get some rest until Bones gets here.”

“Will you stay?” Spock asked.

“Of course.”

Jim sat beside the bed expecting Spock to at least attempt sleep but it was clear enough that he wouldn't be able to sleep. He was in too much pain, too uncomfortable. “Spock, what can I do to help you?” he asked.

“Jim?” It was Bones, entering into the room behind him. He felt the need to get up, though he didn't know why. “He's really in pain, Bones.”

“I know he is. The last hypo I gave him initially helped him manage the pain and his temp dropped but it didn't last long enough. We're still working on it.”

“I know this isn't your fault, Bones, but we got to sort something out. This can't happen. We can't even give him pain relief.”

“It is my fault, Jim. I could have worked on something with him. He was going to get badly hurt sooner or later. I knew we didn't have anything to effectively treat him. And now this is my fault.”

“Bones-”

“Not now, Jim. Not in front of Spock, okay?” Jim relented and dropped the subject as Bones pulled the cover down from Spock and exposed the wound.

He gently peeled off the dressing. Jim's description wasn't exactly medically accurate but he couldn't argue with it either. It didn't smell good, which was a bad sign and it looked messy.

There were a few things Bones had concluded in the time he'd spent working on how to treat the wound.

They'd been on an alien craft when Spock had been injured. So there was no telling what types of foreign bodies had got into the wound.

Heat sealing it, while an effective way to stop Spock bleeding to death, hadn't solved the issue and came with more chance of Spock getting infected.

Saving Jim had reopened the delicate and badly damaged skin. Again exposing Spock to any foreign bodies around. They were, once again, on an alien vessel at the time and Spock's immune system right then was compromised. He might have been acting like he was a lot better but it was simply because he could.

One thing McCoy had learnt about Spock was that he was a terrible patient. He didn't tell McCoy anything and would stand until he couldn't any longer rather than sit down before he fell.

So he was left with a green, bleeding wound to treat. It was still weeping badly, the infection raging on in Spock's body and a clear fluid was also present. He had no idea what that was.

Jim watched as Bones carefully cleaned up the wound. Jim became his assistant, passing over anything Bones would need.

He was amazed by the gentle steps McCoy went through to make sure he didn't cause any discomfort to Spock and he was a little surprised to see Spock had finally managed to get the rest he needed. He put a new dressing on Spock's wound and covered him back over again.

“At least he's sleeping,” Jim said.

McCoy looked over Spock's stats quickly. “Yeah that's-” he stopped frowning a little.

“What's wrong?”

“I can't believe it. I think he's actually gone into a healing trance.”

“That's good, right?”

“It's great. He'll heal much better and quicker this way. He just didn't go into it before, I- Oh, I get it now. It was you.”

“What was me?”

“He was freaking out earlier, thinking the bridge crew died. He kept thinking you were dead. He couldn't go into it until he knew you were okay.”

“You really think so.”

“Jim, you've been here minutes and he's gone into a healing trance. If that's not proof, I don't know what is.”

Jim smiled tiredly at Bones. “I'm exhausted.”

“Me too. I'll get one of the nurses here to watch him and then I'm going to bed for at least four or five hours.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

7.

“So, how did he get injured in the first place?” Sulu asked. “Was it on the ship?”

“No, I think it was when they landed.” Kirk replied taking a bite on his sandwich.

“And he's okay now?”

“He's in a healing trance,” Kirk supplied and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know much about it, but Bones are really happy about it.”

“He was not looking so good when we beamed him aboard.”

“Yeah, I don't think he was doing so good.” Kirk agreed. “But, I checked in with him this morning and his temperatures going down and the infection seems to be clearing up now so the trance thing seems to be doing it's job.”

“Well that's a relief. Is Uhura with him?”

Kirk didn't want to say anything that would reveal too much about Spock and Uhura's personal situation right now. “She just needed some time. She was upset, so I'm sure she'll go and see him when she's ready.”

“Well, at least we can't get called out to help anyone else without a ship.”

“There's the positive side, Mr Sulu.” Jim said, laughing. They all needed a little break after what they'd been through.

“I'm going to go and meet Ben. Will you keep me updated on Mr Spock, Sir?”

“Of course I will.” Kirk said as Sulu headed off to spend the day with his family. Turning to Chekov, Kirk asked, “So what have you got planned for the day?”

“No plans yet, Sir. Yourself?”

“Lots of reports. The worse thing is, I have to pick up the slack for Spock too.”

Chekov smiled “I am sure he would be most unhappy if you did that, Sir.”

“Y0u're probably right. But, I do have to report the injury he sustained to Starfleet so I guess that's one he can't do. I'll see you later.”

~

Jim was hoping Spock might be up and about by now. What he didn't expect was for McCoy to be stood over the Vulcan, hitting him.

“Bones, what the hell are you doing?” Jim said, rushing over next to him.

“Trust me, Jim, I've not gone mad.” he said as he hit Spock again, his palm striking the side of the Vulcan's face. When he went to strike him again, Spock's hand shot up and stopped him before he touched him.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spock said.

“Anyone want to explain why I just walked in on my CMO beating up my First Officer?”

“The Doctor was merely assisting me in coming out of the healing trance.”

“You have to slap him out of it?”

“It doesn't have to be a slap, but it's a bit more gentle than a punch.” McCoy said, shrugging.

“You Vulcan's are really weird.”

“I shall remind you of that after the next bar fight you are involved in, Jim.” Spock replied.

Jim couldn't help smirking. “So you feel better then?”

“I am functioning adequately, Captain.”

“The last time you told me that Spock you were collapsing seconds later.”

“I may have misjudged my injury previously.”

“I would say so.”

“Doctor, I would like to tha-”

“No. I don't want to hear it. I've had to put up with you for days, now. And you know, the only thing worse than a sick Vulcan, is a healthy one. So I'm leaving you Jim in charge of him, to make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid while I get some lunch. Do you think you can manage that?” McCoy looked to Spock who just looked away. McCoy might have offended him, it was hard to tell. Jim just shrugged and said “Sure, you go. You always get cranky when you need your coffee.”

And with that, he left, muttering all the way that he wasn't cranky.

The two of them were alone and Jim felt relief that he was able to look across at his friend and see him looking well. He might not be fully recovered but he was a lot better. “Do me a favour and don't get impaled again.”

“I shall try, Captain.”

Jim sat in the seat beside Spock and reached for his arm. “I know I said it already.... I couldn't do this without you, Spock.”

“Although I find your faith in me most.... interesting, Captain-”

“Jim.”

“Jim, I must disagree. You are more than capable of running a ship with or without me onboard.”

“Okay, maybe technically. But I don't mean I couldn't give orders. I mean that I wouldn't want too. If I left, you could run the ship no problem, but without you.”

“Captain, why do you think that I would wish to run the ship if you were not there?”

“You wouldn't want the ship?”

“Command was never what I was aiming for.”

“You don't want the responsibility.”

“I do not. But like you, I would not find the experience satisfactory if you were not there.”

“Okay, so, neither of us should leave then, I guess. Not that, I was planning too.”

“Nor I, Captain.”

“Am I interrupting?” Nyota asked as she appeared at the door.

“Oh hey, not at all. I was actually just leaving and erm, well someone needs to stay with him.”

“I guess I inherited the job, then.” She said and smiled to Kirk as she moved passed him and into the chair he vacated.

“Spock, I'll come and check on you later, okay?”

Spock nods as Kirk heads out the door.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hello, Nyota.”

She smiles at him. “I'm sorry you got hurt. But thanks for coming to rescue me anyway.”

“I should thank you for rescuing me.”

“You could have got hurt a lot worse doing that. You know I can take care of myself and... considering what happened... it wasn't your place to risk yourself for me.”

“I regret that in the time we were on the ship we were unable to talk things through more thoroughly. I take full responsibility for this as I was not open to such discussions at the time.”

“It's okay, you don't have to say it-”

“I believe you do not fully understand, Nyota. It was never my intention to leave you. I wished to leave my position within Starfleet. However, I felt if I was in a relationship with you when I took such a step, it would be expected for you to leave too. I felt this was unfair to you and you should be able to make your choice independently of what my wishes were. And it will always be my place to risk myself for you. I could think of nothing that I would not risk to know that you are safe.”

Spock closed his eyes in a long blink and took a deep breath.

“Your tired still. Get some sleep and I'll be right here when you wake up, okay.”

“Thank you, Nyota.”

[v-o-i-d-e-d]

I've been binging romcoms with my younger sister and we just finished "To all the boys I have loved before" and now I can't get the idea out of my head: reader writing letters for different starfleet members without intending to send them and suddenly the letters are gone and being sent to their unintended targets (lol, probably Jim did it not knowing that they were not supposed to be read or something). Problem is: our favorite vulcan will too be receiving quite a love letter. Idk, I just thought it was cute, you can ignore if it's too silly ^\\\^

This was such a cute request and I love rom-com-type situations so I ran wild. Also, I'm sorry that this took so long for me to get out I have been busy with school and other annoying responsibilities! I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Spock x Kirk!reader

Warnings- none!

Word Count: 4047 my hand slipped

            Lieutenant (Y/N) Kirk had been having a totally normal day. She completed her duties on the bridge as normal and had just finished eating dinner with her brother Jim. Now as she headed back to her room, she could not wait to shower, crawl into bed, and enjoy the next few hours of sleep before she had to get up and do everything again. When she entered her room the automated door hissed closed and she was finally completely alone. She took a deep breath and turned the lights in the room on. She almost immediately noticed something that completely ruined her peace.

 Earlier that morning, (Y/N) was clearing out her storage closet and had sat a white box full of envelopes on her dining room table so that she would remember to find a new place for them. That box was no longer on the table. Now, one might think why is a missing box of envelopes a big deal? Well, they aren’t. It’s the fact that the envelopes were all properly addressed and full of letters to people she knew that she never intended to send. A few sappy ‘thank you’s to old teachers, a couple to her higher-ups including Captain Christopher Pike – the man who told the Kirk siblings to enroll in Star Fleet Academy. These letters would be slightly embarrassing if they got out but nothing (Y/N) couldn’t handle. After all, everything she wrote in them was true and she appreciates everything those people have done for her. There was only one letter in that whole box that worried (Y/N)—her love letter – a detailed love letter – to one Commander Spock. She cursed herself for writing and keeping a love letter in the first place though she didn’t anticipate the whole box would disappear. She tried to think back to earlier to see if she could remember if she moved it, but when she left her room after lunch it was still on the table and she hadn’t returned since.

            “This can’t be happening. It didn’t just sprout legs and walk away!” She said to herself. (Y/N) ran a hand down her face and thought hard. She paused, “No fucking way.” She exited her room at a jog and progressively got faster as she headed toward her brother’s room. She slid to a stop in front of the white door of the captain's quarters and rapidly slammed her fist against it.

            “James, open the door right now!”

The door slid open revealing a perplexed – and slightly afraid – Jim Kirk. He knew he had done something wrong for her to be angry enough to come to his room calling him by his full name. Of course, he had no idea what he had done but he decided it was best to try to start off ahead.

            “Look, I know you’re upset about-“

            “Did you move the white box on my dining room table when you were in my room earlier?”

            “Wait, what? That’s what you’re mad about?” Jim scrunched his face up and scratched the top of his head. (Y/N)’s eyes widened and she briefly looked around the corridor before shoving Jim back into his room and following him in. The door shut with a hiss and (Y/N) closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. When she opened her eyes Jim was staring at her with a confused expression and his hands crossed over his chest.

            “Please, for the love of god, tell me you didn’t mail those letters,” (Y/N) said as calmly as she possibly could. Silence followed her question and she already knew the answer.

            “Well –“

            “Oh. My. God.”

            “There was a box of addressed envelopes on the table so I thought you needed them mailed!”

            “Jim! Why would you mail someone else's letters? Isn’t that, like, illegal or something?” (Y/N) was absolutely freaking out and, for the life of him, Jim couldn’t understand why.

            “I was trying to be nice! I knew you had a long day today and I wanted to take something off your plate! Excuse me for being a good brother,” Jim rolled his eyes at his sister and threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

            “Well, jackass, a good brother would have asked before just taking a box from his sister’s room and now there is a love letter headed to your second in command!”

A long pause followed her statement. Jim blinked once. Twice. Then a prolonged third blink.

            “What?” Jim had no idea what to say. (Y/N) groaned and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. She began to pace in the entryway and ramble about how dumb she was to write it in the first place and how she should have burned the letters when she had the chance. Jim finally shook his head to rouse himself out of his stunned silence.

            “Why the hell would you write a love letter…to Spock? Or to anyone for that matter what is this 1812?” Jim chuckled at his own joke but covered it with a cough when (Y/N) glared at him.

            “I don’t know! I like writing letters and I just started writing one day and it turned into a full blown sappy confession that I had planned to keep hidden till the day I died! Now it’s headed off to the last person in the universe who I wanted to see it.”

            “Well, maybe this isn’t so bad.”

            “I want you to stop talking.”

            “No, I’m serious maybe this is what you two need to stop dancing around the obvious!” Jim gestured vaguely with his hands as (Y/N) ceased her pacing. She sighed and shook her head.

            “Jim, we’ve been over this: Spock does not feel that way about me. And that’s fine!” (Y/N) and her brother had had many conversations about this subject. Always with Jim insisting that the feelings were mutual and (Y/N) denying that Spock would ever even look at her in that way. I’m his best friend’s little sister and his subordinate, she thought, He’s way too professional for that.

            Before Jim could respond, both of their communicators chimed. They were being called back to the bridge for an emergency. They briefly held eye contact before rushing toward the door. As they jogged toward the bridge, (Y/N) continued the conversation.

            “Okay did you just mail them today?”

            “Why are we still talking about this?”

            “Because I want to know how long I have to transfer to another part of the fucking galaxy to avoid embarrassment,” They turned a corner and the lights flickered before flashing red. The ship shuttered and Jim and (Y/N) struggled to regain footing.

            “Is it bad that I’m hoping whatever just happened happened to happen to the mail room?”

            “Yes. And that was way too many uses of the word ‘happened’.”

Six hours and several shots fired later, the trouble was averted. A rogue Klingon battalion had decided to attack the Enterprise while it was stationary and almost destroyed the engines but quick thinking from Jim, (Y/N), Spock, and Sulu had saved the day. (Y/N) was officially beyond exhausted. She was so tired, in fact, that she forgot about the whole letter situation and went straight to bed after the whole debacle was over.

Day 1 of waiting:

She slept blissfully and woke up rested and ready for the day. She had gotten dressed and ready and made her way back to the bridge. Unfortunately, her blissful restfulness was cut short when she laid eyes on a certain Commander and remembered the imminent embarrassment that was bound to ruin her life at some point this week.

            “Good morning, Lieutenant Kirk. You look rested.” Spock greeted her with a nod as he fell in step with her toward the bridge elevator.

            “Uh, yeah, good morning,” (Y/N) managed to only stutter once and she quickly cleared her throat. She shouldn’t be freaking out. They walked together to the bridge all the time. Of course, normally Jim is with them but still, casual meetings with Spock were not entirely out of the ordinary. As they walked, silence filled the space between the two and, to (Y/N), it was suffocating. Something on her face must have given away the fact that something was wrong.

            “Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant?” Spock asked. His face was neutral but he side eyed (Y/N) intensely. Briefly, (Y/N) met his heavy gaze before looking straight ahead.

            “Yup, feeling absolutely terrific!” She couldn’t even believe herself. Spock raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak again but, luckily for (Y/N), he was interrupted.

            “Lieutenant Kirk.” It was Scotty. God bless him! (Y/N) thought.

            “What’s up, Scotty?” Was that the formal way to address him? No. But (Y/N) just wanted to get out of speaking with Spock one-on-one.

            “I need to speak to you. There are some issues with a few of the privates stationed in the engine room and I could use your help to resolve the issue before I throw some people out of the airlock!” His accent was strong with annoyance and (Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle.

            “Sure thing,” She turned to Spock who had paused beside her, “You go on to the bridge, I’ll be in the engine room if you need me in the meantime.” Without waiting for an answer, (Y/N) hurried toward the engine room leaving Scotty to trail behind.

Day 2 of waiting:

            It was only the second day, and Spock had already caught on to the fact that (Y/N) was avoiding him. (Y/N) knew it was not going to be easy to allude him while also keeping it a secret that she was doing it on purpose, after all – Spock isn’t an idiot and (Y/N) is anything but subtle. Spock and (Y/N) had a routine and of course in an effort to not speak to him (Y/N) had changed it so that she was usually off the bridge when Spock was there and vice versa.

            “Lieutenant Kirk you are needed on the bridge,” Chekov’s thick accent crackled through (Y/N)’s communicator and she sighed. She knew Spock would be there which is why she was currently in the engine room recalibrating the warp drive. It was busy work that she normally wouldn’t do but anything to avoid the impending embarrassment.

            “On my way.”

            When she arrived, Spock immediately shifted his gaze from his work to her. (Y/N) briefly met his gaze before walking toward her brother who was seated in his chair with his legs thrown over the armrest. She rolled her eyes.

            “What do you want, Jim?”

            “That’s no way to address your captain, Lieutenant,” Jim had a smug smile on his face – as usual – and it took everything in (Y/N) not to smack him on the back of his head.

            “Tell me what you want or I’m leaving. I was working, unlike some people,” She scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into her hip.

            “Okay, I am sending you and Spock on a mission,” Jim’s smirk got wider as he noticed his sister’s eye twitch in annoyance. “The planet we’re coming up on is supposed to be abandoned but there should be evidence of a previous civilization. I figured with your archeological knowledge and Spock’s general smart-assery you two would fit the job perfectly.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath in through her nose as she glared at Jim. She sneaked a glance at Spock.

He was listening in on the conversation – an action he deemed logical since it also pertained to him. His eyes were focused on the screen in front of him but he could see (Y/N) from the corner of his eye. He noticed her normally relaxed state was exchanged for tensed shoulders and a glowering expression. Whatever had been going on yesterday had most certainly carried into today. He thought. (Y/N) Kirk was one of his closest friends just as James Kirk was. Though many things that the younger Kirk did were illogical and not well thought out, she knew how to get the results she wanted and always figured out a way for everyone to be happy or at least safe. Spock enjoyed her company even more than he enjoyed her brother’s. She was smart, kind, and usually quiet if it was just the two of them. She was a challenging chess opponent and someone dear to his heart. Not that he would say that to her.

(Y/N) sighed, “Okay. When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. We’ll be in the atmosphere at around 12 o’clock Earth time so you’ve got plenty of time to research and prepare. Why don’t you and Spock take the rest of the day for whatever nerd stuff you need to do,” Jim waved his sister off before getting up and leaving the bridge. (Y/N) glared at his back as he left before begrudgingly walking over to Spock.

“Hey, Spock,” she said. Her eyes were focused on the ground rather than up at the Vulcan who was looking at her intently. (Y/N) took a breath in through her nose before finally lifting her gaze to meet Spock’s, “Let’s go get some lunch and we can talk about the mission.”

Before the Vulcan had the chance to respond, (Y/N) quickly turned on her hell and started walking toward the elevator. Spock easily caught up to her before the doors closed and as the elevator began to descend, Spock spoke up.

“(Y/N), are you feeling ill?” Spock dropped the formalities and asked straight out. (Y/N) lifted an eyebrow and looked at her Commander with a curious gaze.

“No, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” This was a stupid question, (Y/N) realized. Her behavior was at best erratic and clearly intentional so it was only logical for Spock to know something was wrong. She did breathe an internal sigh of relief knowing that Spock hadn’t received the letter, otherwise, she was sure he would have confronted her by now – mutual feelings or not.

“You’ve been acting strange for the last couple of days. I want to be sure that your behavior will not negatively affect your performance on this mission.”

(Y/N) fought the urge to roll her eyes as the elevator doors hissed open. Of course. She thought. He’s only worried about this dumb mission my dumb brother is sending us on to torture me.

“I am also worried about your well-being, Lieutenant.” Spock’s surprising sentiment almost made (Y/N) trip on her own foot. She cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders as they turned the corner of the hallway.

“I promise, I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Ah, yes, the letter.”

(Y/N) swore her heart stopped right there in the hallway. She hesitantly looked at Spock, trying her best to keep her expression as neutral as his. She didn't know how to respond I could play dumb, she mused, but he’s too smart for that to work. The man knows my handwriting so it would be impossible for me to deny that I wrote it. She took a deep breath through her nose, Fuck it.

“Yeah, actually that is what’s on my mind. And honestly, I had hoped I could just ignore the problem but I should have known that wouldn’t work with you.” (Y/N) rambled.

“Why would this be a problem?” Spock tilted his head slightly and furrowed his eyebrows, something that (Y/N) found impossible endearing.

“It could ruin things! In so many ways!” By now, (Y/N) was pacing the hallway and Spock was more confused than ever. “You’re my superior officer and I just sent a love letter to you! Of course, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to send it that would be my genius brother. But I was dumb enough to leave the box out and allow him into my room! But I mean, who mails other people’s letters without asking? What was he even thinking?”

“(Y/N) –“

“I’m so sorry! I seriously didn’t mean to tell you like this and if I’m honest, I didn’t intend on telling you at all! My feelings were supposed to be kept to myself! Well, to myself and Jim but he’s a nosey bastard who obviously can’t mind his business! I don't know why I tell him anything and honestly, I wish he’d just – “

“(Y/N).” Spock, tired of listening to her pointlessly rambling on about how annoying her brother is – a fact he knew to be true – grabbed her gently by the shoulder to get her to stop pacing. Now that she wasn’t speaking and instead was staring up at him like a kicked puppy waiting to be scolded his mind went blank. Spock was officially at a loss for words. “I was talking about the letter of promotion Admiral Pike sent you. About the head of engineering position.”

She wanted to disappear. Perhaps if she willed it hard enough, she could fade from existence on the spot. For once, it was running her own mouth that got her in trouble instead of her brother’s. (Y/N) tried to read Spock’s expression but couldn’t and that sent even more anxiety straight to her gut.

“Oh.” That was all she managed to say. She quickly regained her wits, “Then just forget everything I said and we can just go back to normal!” She let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a cry and started to walk in the direction of the cafeteria. However, Spock hadn’t let go of her shoulder and as she walked away his grip slipped from her shoulder down to her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait.” That was all he managed to say. His mind was still reeling trying to decipher her quick words. A love letter. He thought. She loves me? He couldn’t believe it. “You love me?”

Despite her distraught state, she had to admit she had never seen Spock looking so dumbfounded, as if what she said was something he had never thought of in any scenario. His hand still held hers firmly and he gently pulled her back towards him. “You love me.” He said again, though this time it seemed as though he was finally understanding the situation.

“Okay, Spock, you’re starting to sound like a broken record, and the record is titled Hurting (Y/N)’s Feelings.” She chuckled only to keep herself from bursting into tears out of sheer embarrassment. This was the moment she was dreading. The absolute end of a friendship and a lifetime of shame. I’ll have to go into exile. Maybe I’ll ask Scotty to throw me out of the airlock. She thought. Just as she was about to speak again, Spock dropped her hand turned on his heel, and headed back in the direction they came from. That was when the damn broke and (Y/N)’s eyes welled up with hot tears. Blinking rapidly, she haphazardly looked around the hallway to make sure no one saw her before jetting away in the direction of her room.

“You left her in the hallway?” Jim was on the verge of shouting. He was absolutely flabbergasted at Spock’s behavior. Spock rolled his eyes.

“I was unsure of what I was supposed to do.”

“So you decided to leave my baby sister in the hallway, by herself, after basically confessing her undying love for you.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Trust me, I am not.” Jim ran a hand through his hair and huffed out an annoyed sigh. He paced back and forth, a habit that Spock noticed the siblings share, before looking back at his second in command. “Okay, you have to go after her.”

Spock knew this. It was obviously the most logical course of action. There was only one problem: “What am I supposed to say to her?”

“Apologize for rudely walking away, first off. Then – and this is just a spitball idea – tell her you feel the same!”

Jim was actually convinced that Spock’s brain had short-circuited. Spock wasn’t firing on all cylinders because if he was, he would understand the logical thing to do. Secretly, Jim was happy this situation happened. He had been trying to the Spock and his sister together for months now but he found the process to be similar to cutting a tree down with a blunt axe.

“Beginning a relationship with Lieutenant Kirk would violate –“

“Not if she accepts the promotion.”

“She’d still be my subordinate!”

“Only in the same way Scotty is our subordinate! He only has to listen to us sometimes.”

“That is not how the ranking system works.”

“Who cares?” Jim was tired of arguing with Spock over something that seemed so obvious. Spock felt the same way. “Listen, if you don’t want to tell her you have feelings for her I can’t make you. What I can tell you is that no matter what you do the sentence needs to start with I’m sorry and end with something nice. Turn off the Vulcan side for a change, not everything you do has to be completely logical. Sometimes we just need to do things that we want.”

It must have been a strange sight. The commanding officer of the USS Enterprise stood stiffly in front of (Y/N)’s quarters. He was still trying to figure out what exact words he needed to say and he had taken to scratching at his cuticles out of nervousness. I should not just be standing here. He thought. Shaking his head and finally lifting his clenched fist, he knocked twice. Panic briefly set into his veins as he realized he was actually going to have to talk to (Y/N). A cold shiver ran up his spine as the door’s airlock hissed open and revealed (Y/N) on the other side. He could tell she had been crying, though the tears seemed to be mostly dry by now. Her red-rimmed eyes lightly glared up at him and she crossed her arms tightly over her body.

“Can I help you?” Her voice was scratchy and her words were punctuated by a sniffle. Spock felt an ache deep in his gut from knowing he had made her feel this way.

“I-“ He paused. Once again he was speechless but he was determined to make this right. “I apologized for the way I behaved. Leaving you there after such an important moment was not the right thing to do and I am sorry for hurting you.” Even as he did his best to keep his tone even he couldn’t help the slight waver in his voice.

“It’s alright, Spock. Honest. I’ll be okay and ready for the mission tomorrow. Like I said we can just go back to normal and forget about it.” She was offering him an out. He knew he could easily just take it and go but part of him, a large part of him refused to give up that easily.

“No.”

“What?”

“I do not wish to return to normal.”

“Oh.” (Y/N) believed this to be the final moment of friendship. He wanted nothing to do with her anymore. “Um, okay. I guess you can just do the mission alone or ask my brother to –“

“You misunderstand. I do not want to return to normal because I reciprocate your feelings of affection.”

Oh. (Y/N) thought. A moment of silence passed between them. Spock watched (Y/N)’s face for any sign of emotion but she seemed frozen. He wouldn’t lie, she thought. Vulcans don’t lie. “You do?” her voice was quieter than she intended, almost a whisper.

Spock took her hand in his larger one. “Of course I do. I believe an adequate way to put it would be you have bewitched me, body and soul.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the giggle, “So you do listen when I talk about Jane Austin. I thought you found romance novels illogical.”

“Everything about you is illogical, but that is one of the many things I find alluring about you.” They both smiled. (Y/N) had only seen Spock actually smile a few times and each time it was like new life had filled her lungs but this time it was even better knowing that the smile was put there solely for her. And this time, she couldn’t stop herself from kissing that smile even if she tried.

[illegalpaladin]

Ficlet/drabble prompt: Spock asks his parents for advice because he wants to be in a relationship with Jim but doesn't know how to go about it.

Aw man, I LOVE this prompt so much. Sorry it took me a minute! I was really trying to think about how this one would go. I named my word document "Sarek: Romance Expert." I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for sending this in!

Spock was in his room, sitting stiffly in front of his computer with his hands firmly in his lap. On the screen, side by side, were Sarek and Amanda. 

“Spock,” Amanda said with a gentle smile, “it isn’t often that you call. To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

The relationship Spock had with his father had been tense throughout his adulthood. Even after they– to a certain extent– had made amends when Sarek had been aboard the Enterprise, Spock would not classify their relationship as a friendly one. 

Even now, at the word pleasure, Sarek looked like he was trying not to bristle. 

“I have found myself in a situation,” Spock said, selecting his words carefully. “Due to your expertise in the matter, I realized it would be most logical to direct my inquiries to the two of you.” 

“Our expertise?” Amanda’s brow furrowed in confusion. Sarek’s eyebrow twitched. 

“Yes.” Spock wanted to shift, to squirm under Sarek’s gaze. But, as that would be most un-Vulcan, he refrained. He knew the words that were coming next were heavy, but he was unsure precisely how they would hit. “I have found a human that I wish to pursue… Romantically.” 

“Romantically,” Sarek echoed flatly.

“Romantically?” Amanda straightened in her seat. “A Human?” 

“Yes.” Spock’s hands flexed in his lap, tensing and untensing. 

Amanda’s hands steepled in front of her face; her delight was apparent in the way her eyes sparkled. “Oh, Spock– that’s wonderful news!” 

Sarek did not look as enthusiastic. Though, to his benefit, he didn’t look dismayed, either. 

“So,” Amanda’s hands fell back to her sides, and her smile softened again. “You wish to know how to pursue this Human?”

“I am unfamiliar with Human courting customs,” Spock explained, trying to keep the rush from his voice. “And thus I am unsure how to continue.” 

“It is Captain James Kirk that you are interested in?” 

Spock’s gaze shifted to Sarek as he tried– and likely failed– to hide his shock. “Yes,” he managed after a moment. 

“Hm.” Sarek’s brow twitched again, and Spock braced himself for the words of disappointment. He was more than used to disappointment by now. 

Sarek leaned forward. His gaze stayed steady and even, and Spock could see his mouth turned in the slightest frown. 

“My son,” Sarek began. Spock tensed and untensed his toes to keep himself unmoving. “In order to pursue a Human, you must be aware of just how different Human culture as a whole is from Vulcan.” 

Spock blinked back his surprise. Sarek seemed to register this, and his frown deepened minutely. 

“Humans are rash. They are loud with their emotions and with their intentions.” 

Amanda seemed unfazed by this. Spock wasn’t sure if the words were meant to be insulting. 

When Spock didn’t respond, Sarek leaned back and settled back into place. “What I am saying,” he continued with the smallest hint of agitation, “Is that James Kirk’s interest in you is apparent. There is no reason to worry yourself over Human courting customs.”

Spock had to keep his mouth from falling open as the shock of his father’s words hit him. He’d said it so simply, as if it were a fact as clear as day. 

And if he were saying it that way, that must be the case. “I see,” he finally managed. 

“It was the same with the two of us, you know,” Amanda hummed. “When I first met your father, I–” 

“Spock does not have time for such stories,” Sarek interrupted flatly. “He is the First Officer of a starship. Surely he has more important matters to attend to.” 

Spock could barely hear the words. His head was spinning. His mouth moved on its own. “Yes. I do have some tasks that need my attention.” 

“As I suspected. Goodbye, Spock.” 

Amanda sighed and shook her head just slightly. “Good luck, Spock. Not that you need it.” 

And with that, the call ended. 

[sepdet]

Killing Time Excerpts #7: Amok Mind

(pages 165-180)

Oh my dear Kirk/Spock fans, I have a special treat to start the year: genuine vintage The Premise from an old 1980s Star Trek novel.

Dubcon Warning: While it's no more overtly sexual than Amok Time, we learn once again that Vulcans have no concept of safewords.

THE VULCAN AWOKE, and noticed without emotion that the pain in his back had all but paralyzed him. He tried to force weighted eyelids apart, but to no avail. Scents drifted to his nostrils, and he breathed deeply. Antiseptic. Clean. Noises of gentle footsteps.

"Take it easy, Spock," a familiar voice murmured as he struggled to move.

Delirium crept closer, its black hands creating a mutation of reality.

"J-Jim?" he whispered, his voice coming out as little more than a painful gasp. Breathing, he discovered, was quite painful. But as reality slowly returned, he wondered why he should be addressing the young ensign as "Jim," and precisely why he should think that Kirk, of all people,would be leaning over him. And yet, as with so many things, it seemed natural, familiar . . . as if it had happened that way countless times before.

"It's McCoy," the voice explained. "Just take it easy for a while, Spock."

Sinking back on the bed, the Vulcan felt a moment of disappointment mingle with confusion.

"The landing party?" he asked, battling a demon of pain. "Are they . . .?" He opened his eyes at last, wincing at the bright light which stabbed sensitive pupils.

McCoy nodded, but the Vulcan could see that the usual sparkle was absent from the blue eyes.

"Everyone's safe, Spock— except Donner," the doctor said, knowing that attempting to delude the Vulcan into quiescence would prove futile. "He was already dead when we beamed aboard." His voice was gentle, soothing; yet he knew there was nothing he could say to ease the guilt Spock would feel. "We've got him in the cryogenic chamber for now," he added. "I can't do anything for him here, but maybe the doctors at Starbase Ten will be able to help."

Spock's eyes drifted shut once again. Despite his personal disapproval of the ensign's bigotry and violence, he had no desire to see the man dead; and he wondered if he'd made the wrong decision in allowing him to be part of the landing party to begin with. But still . . . too many crewmen unable to function . . . too many incidents of slippage . . . Death would have claimed someone,regardless.

"And the others?" he demanded, teeth clenching with agony as he attempted to speak.

"Selon took a spear in the behind when he turned to run," McCoy said through the tunnel of darkness. "He won't be sitting down for a while, but nothing too serious. Doctor M'Benga's patching him up right now."

Spock nodded, then struggled to rise on one elbow, stopping only when the doctor's hand pushed him gently back down.

"Kirk?" the Vulcan asked, feeling something related to horror slice through him. The last conscious thought . . . Kirk . . . "What about . . . Jim?" The pain moved a little closer, threatening to take him back to blackness.

"Not a scratch," McCoy's distant voice said reassuringly.

It was the last thing the Vulcan remembered before a hypo hissed against his bare arm. Coenthal.

The cold crept up into his shoulder. But that one statement from McCoy was enough. The human paradox was safe. Despite the odds, despite himself . . . Kirk was alive.

Darkness claimed Spock in warm black arms.

[…NEXT DAY, after Spock's mostly healed and returned to the bridge, McCoy calls to report Kirk's disappeared . . .]

"He's not in his quarters, not listed on any duty shift, and the computer indicates that he hasn't used his identification chip for meals since the Canusian incident."

The Vulcan felt himself go cold inside, only then consciously realizing that he hadn't seen Kirk in over a day. Odd . . . he hadn't sensed anything wrong. But with that thought came another. He hadn't sensed anything. An eyebrow rose, and a cold phantom which he recognized as himself took a step closer.

"I shall attempt to locate Ensign Kirk myself, Doctor," he said at last. "If my search is successful,I will meet you in your office later this evening."

"Well . . . don't take too long, Spock," the doctor replied after a momentary hesitation. "If you can't find him within a couple of hours, get down here anyway."

Irritation crept closer, threatened to mutate into anger. "Of course, Captain McCoy," he replied,and headed for the lift once again, unaware of the astonished stares which followed him.

—•—

AS SHIP'S NIGHT fell, the Vulcan walked down the long corridor which would lead to the ship's botanical gardens; but as he reached the double doors, he stopped. A sudden wave of dizziness and disorientation swept over him, and blood sang in his ears. He took a deep breath.

Something had drawn him here, he realized disjointedly. Something . . . human. After a momentary battle, the dizziness passed; and, forcing his hand to move, he depressed the button which would open the doors.

Ship's night was everywhere, and the pseudo-sunset colors on the garden's dome gave an ethereal glow to the odd variety of plants, trees and flowering vines which climbed the walls, completing the illusion of a small forest. He entered into silence, but a quick survey of his surroundings left him illogically disappointed. The room appeared empty.

He turned to leave, recalling McCoy's insistence, but stopped when his ears detected a faint sound of movement no more than a few yards away. His eyes traveled back to the doors, warring between Time and duty; but slowly his gaze returned to the central portion of the gardens. He'd heard of other starships becoming inhabited by certain animals which sentimental human crewmen smuggled aboard during planetfall, and he couldn't help wondering if some rodent or cat had taken up residence on board the ShiKahr.

Choosing a path which would lead to the source of the noise, he made his way past to dense foliage until he reached the garden's center. Six large trees grew in a circle, their branches cascading to the ground like dark veils of mourning. In contrast to the eerie sight, the scent of fresh earth and flowers came to the Vulcan's nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, wondering how longit had been since he'd experienced the inner peace which had once been a natural state of being.

Shoving the melancholy thought to the back of his mind, he simply stood there, pointedly ignoring Time and galaxies as the lighting grew progressively dimmer. At last, only a luminescent purple haze remained. For a moment, the colors took his mind back to Vulcan— to childhood days when the red sun had slid beneath a distant horizon, and golden sands had begun to cool beneath his bare feet.

Vulcan! He turned from the image. Starfleet had indeed been the only solution; and except for unbidden moments of retrospection, he had— he thought— succeeded in divorcing himself from the past altogether. But here, with only the plants to share private memories, perhaps it was safe to think of what he'd left behind. He realized that his nerves had been something less than perfect recently . . . and a few more minutes could not matter so very much.

In many ways, Spock accepted that he was no longer Vulcan at all; that culture and heritage had been stripped from him too many years before— when the marriage to T'Pring had terminated in disastrous mental disharmony.

He felt the sting of embarrassment return to darken his face, despite the fact that it was now years later. But his mother's human blood had been too strong, and the emotional traits which had been bequeathed to him in her genes had condemned him to spend the remainder of his life as a drifter . . . an outcast. Amanda could not be blamed for that, he realized logically . . . yet even Sarek had seemed pleased to see him go.

And, at the very least, he was free of T'Pring— an unfaithful creature who had held nothing but contempt for his mixed blood and distasteful human emotions.

T'kona . . . Go from this place alone. That's what T'Pau had ordered when T'Pring demanded formal severance of the bond. Leave Vulcan. Do not come back. T'kona, Spock . . .

Less than Vulcan . . . other than human. No choice but to obey T'Pau's command.

And Vulcan was gone.

He was drawn from his disturbing melancholy, however, as he heard the sound again— a distinct rustling of leaves less than twenty feet away. With an arched brow, he moved closer to the circle of trees, parted their branches quietly, and peered into cool lavender darkness. It took a moment for even his keen eyes to adjust, but he was soon able to discern the lone figure on the ground. At first, the logical portion of his mind asked if someone had been injured, or had fainted from the humid heat of the gardens. It was only when he looked closer that he remembered why he had come here to begin with: Kirk.

Quietly, carefully, he edged closer, kneeling by the man on the ground.

Dressed in civilian clothing, the human had drawn himself into a fetal position, and was clutching his chest tightly in sleep. Apparently, the Vulcan surmised, Kirk had fallen asleep in the afternoon "sun" of the gardens. But even in repose, the ensign appeared tired and troubled,almost to the point of mental and physical exhaustion.

Telling himself it was purely professional concern, knowing otherwise, Spock studied the sleeping man openly, not surprised to see several scars and bruises where the unbuttoned shirt had become dislodged. But in those minor injuries— apparently a combination of Donner's rowdiness and the Canusian incident— Spock observed much more. For an instant, he was in Sickbay, standing over this human as he'd done a hundred times before. Kirk had been injured during planetfall (again); McCoy was working frantically to save his life (again); and Spock knew he must be there when his companion awakened (if indeed he ever did).

Wrenching himself free of the memory which wasn't a memory at all, the Vulcan leaned back to sit on the ground, curiosity filling black eyes. Face filled with expression even now, Kirk appeared familiar; and for an instant, the phantom memory appeared so tangible that the Vulcan thought he might be able to simply reach out and grasp it. He felt himself soften inside as the human moaned restlessly, and he suddenly understood that aloneness— loneliness— was not something assigned only to outcast Vulcans. Despite Kirk's previous facade of defiance, the mask of self-assuredness, the human— like himself— walked totally alone in a universe which seemed determined to drive him mad.

Without daring to ask himself why, Spock reached out hesitantly, then stopped with his hand poised less than an inch from the human's face. Perhaps madness had already intervened; for what right did he have to intrude, even if his only intention was to help? He was, he reminded himself sternly, basing an act of mental transgression on nothing more than a fleeting and illogical assumption that this human's mind had always been open to him before. The hand trembled, hesitated. Yet he knew he had seen Kirk's thoughts. . . many times. He had walked through the layers of consciousness and subconscious. . . sharing secrets, healing, befriending.

Line of duty. . . personal, dual curiosity. The meld was not alien to the two of them. Somewhere. . .somewhen. And yet, and unsolicited meld shattered all of the Tenets of Vulcan. Regardless of intent, it was nothing less than mental trespass.

But as he sat there, alone despite the human's presence, a sudden simplicity of vision presented itself. A few moments before, he had accepted that he was no longer Vulcan; and the concept that ancient doctrine and taboos would prevent his helping the young ensign severed whatever strand had tied him to his own heritage. With the cool rapport of a meld, he could stop the human's nightmares, erase the lingering mental anguish from the Talos Device . . . fill emptiness with purpose.

And perhaps there would be other answers as well. The mind knew no limits. And any universe— no matter how small or large— could dwell inside one thought.

T'lema . . . he who walks in dreams.

No . . . Kirk was no stranger to his mind.

Dizziness swayed the Vulcan's hand. Logic fought . . . and lost. Before permitting himself the luxury of altering his decision, he allowed his hand to come to rest on the warm human face.

Kirk tensed instinctively in his sleep, as much from the unexpected physical contact as from the mental thread which gently entered his mind. For an instant, he moved instinctively toward the familiar warmth, allowing his thoughts to enter well-known territory. But as he became aware of his true surroundings, his eyes snapped open, a gasp of surprise slipping past his control when he saw the Vulcan commander leaning over him.

For a moment, Spock did not move, neither continuing with the meld nor withdrawing his hand.

And as their eyes met in near-darkness, the Vulcan thought he detected the same sense of recognition in Kirk that he had experienced within himself. He'd seen the ensign relax, had felt an openness draw them closer. For the briefest of instants, reality had altered. .. accepting the two of them as one entity. An eyebrow rose.

Not moving, Kirk took a deep breath. "What are you doing?" he asked pointedly, tone neither accusing nor encouraging.

The Vulcan began breathing again, and hesitantly withdrew the initial strand of the fragile link.

He did not have a logical answer; yet his suspicions were confirmed. He did know Kirk . . . or would know him in some alien future. In the mind, the Time-mistress had no authority, the Reality Keeper was lost. And Kirk's reaction alone proved something. Logically, Ensign Kirk would have responded with outrage, the Vulcan thought. But the utterly calm human exterior left him confused.

"I . . . sensed that you were troubled by . . . dreams," he stated, schooling his voice to its calmest level as his hand dropped back to his side. "Please forgive me," he added, annoyed by words which became more clipped and difficult as he continued. "I did not intend to . . . intrude."

Surprisingly, the enigmatic human only stretched out on the ground. A fallen leaf tangled in golden hair; and with a heavy sigh, Kirk met his captain's questioning eyes. "Since I'm already considered to be crazy by the majority of people on this ship," he began, "maybe it won't be too difficult to say what I'm thinking for a change." He smiled wistfully, wondering where his anger had disappeared to. "Then you can haul me down to Sickbay and have me fitted for one of those jackets that tie in the back."

A curious brow arched. It was the first time Spock could recall the ensign displaying any sense of humor at all. "Please explain."

Kirk didn't move from his reclining position as he began nervously twisting the gold ring on his left hand. His eyes settled on the ceiling, on the purples and muted blacks and the foggy humidity which was shedding dew-tears on the mossy ground.

"Right now," he began, "I feel just about as phoney as that sunset." Somehow, it was easier to share his thoughts with the Vulcan than he'd expected. Briefly, he wondered how far the meld had gone while he was asleep, but . . . no. It was something else which had thrown their lives together. "I don't know myself anymore," he added matter-of-factly, "but I do know you." He turned, studying the angular face of his commanding officer— the thin lips and the dark eyes and the lithe feline musculature.

The Vulcan's expression softened as he held himself open to Kirk's visual inspection. "Would you consider me a madman if I informed you that I reflect your thoughts?" he asked.

Kirk propped himself up on one elbow, looked cautiously at the Vulcan, then abruptly abandoned the pose of disinterest. "I talked to a couple of people down in the psyche lab," he confessed at last. "Gossip has it that the ShiKahr's been swept into some sort of alternate universe."

The Vulcan remained silent, watching Kirk twist the gold band. "That is one theory," he relinquished, wondering where the conversation was leading.

For a very long time, Kirk continued to stare at the captain; but his expression slowly hardened to one of bitterness.

"What made you save me instead of Donner down on Canus Four, Captain?" he asked.

Disjointedly, he cursed himself for the sudden anger; yet it came anyway. Another blessing of the Talos Device. "Or was it an accident that you just happened to go out of your way to kill the savages who were closer to me?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Donner's little friends were directly in your line of fire, Captain," he continued. "Yet you deliberately let him die. Why?"

The Vulcan blinked, surprised by the chameleonlike change in the human. He glanced away,suddenly uncomfortable. It was a question he'd asked himself constantly since the incident. It was a question to which there was— again— no logical answer. "I . . . calculated that there would be ample time for a second shot," he responded. "Donner was more experienced in planetfall." Liar! his mind screamed. Unfit for Vulcan. Unfit for Command. Liar! "Unfortunately, my calculations were incorrect." He steeled himself, told himself to be silent, but to no avail. "It was a command decision," he added, battling another wave of dizziness and disorientation.

"Bullshit," Kirk muttered to himself, then looked straight into the Vulcan's eyes. "Logically," he said, "you should have saved Donner. He belonged here. He . . . wanted his life." Darkness crept into his cheeks.

One eyebrow arched as the Vulcan attempted to mask his own sudden emotions with the appropriate air of command. "And you do not want yours?" he asked. It was dangerous territory.

Kirk shrugged. "That's not what I meant," he snapped, turning away from scrutinizing eyes which stripped away the charades. He forced himself to speak more calmly. "All I know is that Donner had more of a . . . right to life than I do." He bit his lower lip painfully. "Look, Captain," he said at last, "whether you saved my life by accident or by choice doesn't matter." He paused,hating the part of himself which had broken free to the surface. "But you might've done both of us a favor if you hadn't!" He avoided looking at the Vulcan; it hurt to care. "This . . . this isn't right," he insisted. "I don't know what is right, but it isn't this! It's as if we're all going through the motions of something we can't even begin to understand!"

The Vulcan flinched inwardly despite his cool exterior, appalled that any living creature could hold such little regard for its own life. It did matter— if not to Kirk, then to him. He tasted a moment of fire— an illogical, un-Vulcan anger at the sudden rejection. Kirk had led him on, had practically asked for the meld. . . and now the human was hurling jagged knives into vulnerable tissue. With an effort, he wrested himself back under control, choosing a less personal approach.

"If you are familiar with the dual universe theory," he began, feeling his own muscles tense,"then you are aware that your assumptions may well be correct. There is every possibility that your alternate life is completely different from that which you are currently experiencing. And if a way can be discovered to reinstate— "

"Stop it!" Kirk hissed, damning himself for the threatening emotions which were starting to build again. Hope was the worst of all. Misplaced, hopeless hope. "You've got what you want, Captain Spock!" he said hotly, unable to control the anger. "You've got everything anybody could ever want, so why should I believe you're in any hurry to change things?" Hardened hazel eyes locked with stunned ebony ones. "You've got your precious ship and your pious logic and your goddamned supremacy to keep you happy. And I've got my life!" He spat the word out in disgust. "Well, you can have both, sir!" he continued, climbing to his feet in an uncontrollable wave of fury. "You can take the whole damned mess and— "

But before he could complete the sentence, he found himself falling to the ground, the Vulcan's arms wrapped tightly and unexpectedly around his legs. Lethal anger flared in the human's eyes as he fell painfully into the dirt; he kicked but to no avail.

Without completely understanding what he was doing, the Vulcan rolled over, covering the ensign's writhing body with his own. Powerful Vulcan hands seized Kirk's wrists, forcing muscular arms to the ground despite violent resistance.

"Understand one thing, Human," a rough whisper commanded harshly. "On this ship, your life does belong to me! If I choose to spare it, that is a choice by which you are bound!" He saw a single instant of fear and disbelief in the wide, hazel eyes, but that glimpse was enough. The madness covered him, claiming him. "I grow weary of your self-pity, Kirk. And Time, in this universe, shall not wait for you to outgrow your childish bitterness!"

In the back of his sane mind, a logical Vulcan voice requested an answer as to what had brought his anger to the surface with such a vengeance. But the madman ignored it. In seven years as command of the Shi'Kahr, he had never met a human who could arouse such forbidden feelings,who could wrestle emotion from him as easily as turning on the light.

Beneath him the human continued to struggle, Fierce hatred flared on Kirk's proud features. "So why don't you just transfer me off this ship and out of your hair?" he suggested, shoving violently against the hands which held him pinned to the ground.

But the Vulcan merely shook his head as something tore free inside him.

T'kona . . . He had nothing left to prove— not to Vulcan, not to himself. Vulcan was a word without meaning, a port in which he was never to be welcomed again.

Something dangerously resembling a smile came to his lips.

"No," he stated very gently, sensing another wave of fear flash through the human. "No . . . I shall not make it so simple for you, Kirk." He shook his head, an eerie laugh parting lips which had never laughed before. "It's time to stop running!"

Using Vulcan strength, Spock seized both of Kirk's wrists in one hand, holding him immobile.

With his legs, he scissored the human's angles; ebony-black eyes stabbed through hazel-golden pools, compelling coorperation. With his free hand, he reached for the human's face, fingers spreading and seeking the neural centers necessary to a link.

And suddenly, a look of horror came to dwell on Kirk's features as his body went limp. But a cunning smile came to his lips. "You wouldn't dare," he said, wondering nonetheless if he'd tempted the fates once too often.

The Vulcan merely shook his head has his fingers pressed firmly against pliant flesh. "In this universe," he replied, "you are wrong, James Kirk!"

Without another thought on the matter he injected himself into the human's unshielded mind.

Kirk tensed against the unexpected dizziness which swirled through his thoughts and clouded reality. He was vaguely aware of twisting his arms in a final attempt to free himself, but the resistance seemed futile. . . unnecessary. His eyes closed, and he did not notice when the gold Academy ring slipped from his finger and lodged in the loose sand. It was just another part of the past . . . gone.

He took a deep breath, tired of fighting, and surrendered to the pleasant vertigo which accompanied the meld. Somewhere, a Vulcan stranger-friend removed the layers of fear and hesitation; and for an instant, Kirk tasted regret . . . regret over what his actions had obviously cost the captain. It could have been different, he thought. It should have been different. But the Vulcan took the pain away, too— the pain of the past, of memories which were somehow unreal and unimportant.

At last, Kirk opened his mind's eye. The terrain was familiar . . . and deep in the primal darkness of the mind, a man he recognized as himself was waiting.

Edith . . . a warm face, compassionate eyes.

And love. His arms went around her; but somewhere in the back of his mind, Kirk knew he was saying good-bye.

Nebulous territory, the mind.

His eyes scanned the night sky of a filthy city somewhere on Old Earth. Edith or the stars . . .Edith or the Enterprise. Captain's decision . . . command decision. But it did hurt. Again. She. Silver woman goddess. She. The decision was premade when the universe itself was created.

The ghost of Edith slipped away, leaving his arms empty.

Miramanee . . . priestess of a forgotten race. Miramanee . . . wife. Peace here . . . except for the dreams and the faces in them. One dark and angular. One blue-eyed and curious. His eyes searched the face of the Indian-goddess. Gentle, beautiful wife-for-a-season. But there was guilt . . . guilt of cheating on a long-established mistress. She demanded more than simple tools and ancient gods. She demanded all . . . a price.

Miramanee stepped aside.

Other faces . . . some forgotten, some well-remembered. Deela, Ruth, Rayna (Forget the pain, Jim. Forget).

He turned toward the Source.

"Congratulations, Captain Kirk," Admiral Komack said, pumping his hand vigorously. "She's all yours for the next five-year mission. Take good care of her." The admiral laughed. "Treat her like a wife— only better."

Trembling, Kirk nodded. She. Silver flesh and blood and bone. Starship. A love-affair not to be taken lightly. A responsibility not to be handled alone.

Warm, dark eyes entered reality. The reassuring touch of an alien hand which was not alien at all.

Spock?

The syllable echoed in his mind. Blood-brother among the stars. The other half of the whole. The other part of the Trinity. The only other person She would accept in his life.

Yes, Jim, a deep mind-voice said shakily. I . . . believe we have indeed found our answers. . . .

Kirk swallowed. But . . . is it real?

The answer was enough. It is all that is real, Jim.

But the new reality rejected Kirk, sending him back down a long tunnel of darkness. Yet there was no pain. He could go back, he told himself. He would go back to her.

Somewhere, in a distant alien reality, he heard himself start to breathe again. Thoughts of birth came to his mind . . . thoughts of coming into a cruel world.

On the ShiKahr, James Kirk opened his eyes to see the Vulcan regarding him with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the Kirk-he-had-been wanted to reach out to the commander, to confirm physical reality with a gentle touch. But he found himself too exhausted to move; and slowly the Vulcan released him, rolling into a sitting position.

One eyebrow slid beneath disheveled black bangs as Spock shook his head, then looked away,angular face darkening.

"I . . ." The Vulcan stood suddenly, turned away as the full memory of what he had done returned.

"Wait," Kirk's voice commanded quietly.

The Vulcan stopped, but did not look at the other man.

Kirk climbed slowly to his feet, brows narrowing as he pondered Spock's tense frame. For a moment, he could think of nothing to say . . . but he forced himself to remember what he'd seen in the meld, forced himself to rely on the man who commanded starships. Ensign Kirk retreated respectfully.

"Spock?"

"You must forgive me, Ensign," the captain stated flatly. "I . . . am obviously not myself. This . . . incident . . . must be reported at once." A forced meld, regardless of impact or reason . . . it was wrong. He started to walk away, suddenly recognizing his own insanity for what it was. Blood murmured hot against his ears.

But behind him Kirk only laughed, and a very tentative hand touched his shoulder.

Spock flinched.

"Why?" the human asked, gently forcing him to turn around. "How can you regret proving to me that there is something worth living for?" He didn't wait for an answer. "If that other universe is real," he ventured, "then you had every right to do what you did." He winked conspiratorically,feeling something— someone— come back to life inside him. Reality wavered, fighting the transformation, but he held on, using the Vulcan's downtrodden eyes as a focal point.

But Spock merely shook his head. "There is a danger," he stated.

Kirk tensed. "What?" he demanded.

Giving in to the human for a moment, a Vulcan eyebrow rose as he met the ensign's eyes. Now he understood the bitterness . . . now he knew how much Kirk had lost. And his own losses, he reflected, seemed minor by comparison.

"There is a danger that we may not be able to . . . get back," Spock said at last. "A danger of becoming . . . permanently entrapped in this universe." His eyes closed painfully. The emotions were too close to the surface; and he began to recognize the additional danger as well . . . the danger within himself. "In the event that should happen," he continued, using the sound of his voice as a reminder of reality, "our minds will not . . . accept this reality into which we have been thrust."

Kirk swallowed with difficulty. A few moments ago, it had seemed so easy . . . so right. "How long do we have?" he asked.

The Vulcan glanced away. "Less than eleven days," he replied truthfully. "And there is not enough data— at the present time— to know where to begin effecting repairs."

Kirk considered that and all the implications. If there were no way to re-create that other reality,it was over. All of it. He looked away before the thought could transmit itself to the Vulcan. Something in him refused to accept defeat; something stronger than Ensign Kirk demanded a chance . . . a right to the life he had once known.

"Then we'll make a way," he said, wondering what special control he thought he possessed over the universe.

The Vulcan nodded silently, easily sensing the determination— and the desperation— in this peculiar ensign-captain. "The ship's computers are working on possible theories," he ventured. "And if a way can be discovered before time itself intervenes . . ."

The sentence trailed off, and Kirk thought he saw the Vulcan tremble. For an instant, the hopelessness reasserted itself, but he tried to drive it away. "We've faced worse, Spock," he said,wondering where the words were coming from, wondering what he was referring to. "Something has to come along."

The Vulcan shook his head, started to respond, but was cut short when a hidden communication speaker chirped noisily. He felt himself jolt in surprise and anger.

"Captain Spock?" Uhura's voice said questioningly.

But the Vulcan made no immediate move to respond. His eyes remained locked with Kirk's.

At last, the human smiled, taking a deep breath as some unspoken message passed between them. "Duty calls . . . Captain," he said with a grin.

Very slowly, the Vulcan nodded. "Indeed . . . Captain," he replied. After another moment, he moved to a nearby stone bench, sank down onto it and activated the wrist communicator. "Spock here."

"Captain," Uhura responded, "the VSS T'Ruda is signaling us; requesting your presence on the bridge."

The Vulcan glanced at Kirk . . . and let the moment fade after taking a deep breath. There were still unanswered questions . . . but for now his priorities were clear. If only he could hold on long enough, keep insanity at bay . . .

He let the thought go back into darkness. "On my way, Lieutenant," he said at last, switching off the communication device as he turned back to the human. He stood . . . on legs which seemed unsteady and weak.

"If there's anything I can do to help," Kirk offered, letting the sentence trail off.

Spock nodded, and started to walk away; but he stopped suddenly. "Perhaps there is, Ensign," he said quietly. "I believe Doctor McCoy is expecting both of us in Sickbay for review of some new information concerning the dual universe theory. Perhaps you could see to the doctor's needs while I speak with the T'Ruda's commander." And, the Vulcan realized, it would keep McCoy off i back for a few more minutes.

Kirk nodded, then gave a mock salute, trying not to think of what would happen if they were wrong, if they were unable to make the changes soon enough. Already, he'd felt twinges of the madness . . . of an insanity worse than Death itself. And it was easy to see the toll it was taking on Spock. The Vulcan appeared tired, drained . . . almost frightened beneath the layers of command.

But he laid those images aside. The universe had always obeyed his commands before, he reminded himself. And Time was like an old friend . . . one he'd tricked too often in the past.

Next Time:

Hey, didn't Spock say something about it being seven years since he left Vulcan? It seems his symptoms aren't merely a result of the fractured universe... he's still Vulcan, and a Vulcan's got needs.

Check back to see my killing time excerpts tag for the latest!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Bones is nice? (Bones McCoy)

Description: Bones is only nice to Y/N and the crew is confused.

Word Count: 482

Request: Hi, I love your Star Trek requests!! Could you do one where the usual grouchy dr McCoy is always nice to the reader. He treats her gently and always dotes on her much to the other crew member’s disbelief.

Kirk watched in confusion as Leonard’s entire personality changed as Y/N walked onto the bridge. He noticed the red in his cheeks and how his smile was bigger or that he was smiling now. Y/N greeted him and Bones nearly melted. He had a hand on her shoulder as they talked. Kirk had a teasing smile as he watched the two.

Spock, who refused to show emotion, couldn’t help but also be confused and a little surprised at this reaction as well. Bones leaned in and kissed her cheek before he left the bridge. “Y/N, What did you do to Bones?” He asked her and she laughed.

“No seriously he was all lovey dovey on you.” She shrugged, “We went out for a date a few nights ago.” Kirk was surprised that Bones was willing to put himself out there like that. “Maybe he’ll be nice to everyone now.”

That was wrong. Spock had managed to piss him off and Bones couldn’t help but rant and yell at the vulcan. Jim, who never takes anything seriously, couldn’t help but laugh. The situation wasn’t serious nor needed this reaction from him but it was still funny.

Spock just took what all he had to say and basically shrugged it off. But as soon as Y/N walked into the room Bones forgot what he was yelling about and went to talk and flirt with her instead. “It is odd that her presence seems to put the doctor in a better mood.” Kirk chuckled at his friend and patted his back, “That’s called love.”

“Okay you have to be in the same room as him all the time.” Kirk told her and she shook her head. She didn’t believe that he was grumpy towards everyone but her. “Captain, that is not possible, Y/N works in a different field than Doctor McCoy.” Kirk mocks him as he talks, “Yes but we can change that.” Y/N shook her head, “I like my place on the bridge.”

“Yes but I like Bones being nice.” He jokingly whines. Bones comes up to them and sets down with his tray of food. “Hey baby.” Y/N greets him and like a school boy his face heats up but he greets her nonetheless. Kirk tries to hide his laugh with a cough but Bones glares at him. Luckily it was just a glare thanks to Y/N being there. 

“You know Kirk thinks that i’m the key to you being nice.” She says as they lay in my bed. “That’s ridiculous! I’m never nice.” He grumbles. She laughs, “I don’t know you are pretty nice to me.” She teases. He looks down at her, “Yeah well you’re different from those idiots.” She shakes her head and kisses him. “Maybe you can start being less grumpy to others.” She pouts her lips, “Just for me.” He rolls his eyes and sighs, “Just for you.”

[space-helen]

E.T

Words: 739

Pairing: Spock x Reader

A/N: This is the first thing I've written since last October so... I'm sorry if this is clunky. I'm note sure which Spock you wanted it for so I went AOS but I think it's pretty 'neutral' Spock if that makes sense?

Request: Spock's reaction to female reader singing the song E.T. by Katy Perry cause the reader lost a bet to Kirk so now she has to sing that song to basically admit she likes Spock. As a added bonus you can add a part where Spock tells Kirk that was unnecessary since he and the reader are already dating. If you don't like the bonus idea just ignore it! Keep up the awesome writing! - @originaltyphoonkryptonite

______________________

“You’re not being serious?”

“I won Y/N. A deals a deal.” Jim said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes “The song is so, incredibly, old. Could you not pick something more current?” 

“It just makes it funnier. It’s a classic.” the man put his hand on your back and began to guide you towards Spock's quarters. 

Grumbling as you went he quickly shoved you inside. Spock stood from where he was sitting and looked between the two of you. “What is the problem? You look distressed.” his eyes fell to you.

“Nothing, nothing.” you turned around to leave but Jim stopped you and turned you back around. 

“Y/L/N.” it was almost a warning from your Captain.

“Spock.” you looked at the man before looking down at the floor and hesitating, this was so embarrassing “You’re so hypnotizing.”

“Y/N” Spock spoke, grounded to his spot as Jim nudged you.

“Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?”

“Sing” Jim whispered under his breath.

You sighed and the next parts came out with some tune “Your touch, magnetizing, feels like I am floating. Leaves my body glowing.” the following lines came out rushed and you took a break.

“Properly now.” Jim encouraged.

“Y/N please-” came Spocks voice as he took a step towards you. 

“Kiss me, ki-ki kiss me. Infect me with your lovin’ fill me with your poison. Take me, ta-ta-take me. Wanna be your victim ready for abduction. Boy, you’re an alien. Your touch, so foreign It’s supernatural. Extraterrestrial.” you quickly turned to Jim “Happy now?”

“The whole song-”

“I’m not singing the whole song Jim that’s ridiculous. I think you’ve made me get my point across alright?” 

“And what point would that be Captain?” Spock questioned Jim directly.

“Come on Spock, think about the words. What do you think she’s trying to tell you?”

“Was this your scheme to get Y/N to tell me that she finds me attractive?”

“Well… Yes it was.” he moved his hand to the back of his neck and looked at you.

“Did it ever occur to you that I may already know this?”

“You- Then why would you pass up the opportunity?” you watch Jim sweat under the pressure.

“Did you consider in any way that Y/N and I may be in a relationship at present?”

“You’re what?” the man looked between the two of you “Impossible. Actually impossible. Why would Y/N have been so scared to come here and sing?”

“We were keeping it a secret” you pitched in “We didn’t want everyone to know right away. Plus I was so embarrassed. I don’t like singing in front of people.The whole situation was just awkward.” you made a gesture to the room.

“I take your point but really? You weren’t going to tell me?”

Spock came to stand beside you as you spoke “We were going to tell you at the game night on Saturday.”

“We thought it would be best to tell everyone at the same time. Before we go on shore leave. To give you all time to digest the information.”

Jim nodded “Right.” he hesitated for a second “So I’m not allowed to tell anyone before Saturday?”

You shook your head “we’d prefer it if you didn’t”

“So I won’t get the joy of telling everyone I got the two of you together.”

You beamed with a smile “No Jim, no you won’t. But you can keep that little narrative in your head if that makes you happier.”

“That I will.” he smiled. He gave the two of you one last look and you could see a gleam in his eyes. “I should leave the two of you love birds to it.” turning on his heels he quickly left. You heard him clap his hands together and laugh as he moved through the doorway “perfect just perfect.” 

As the door closed behind him you wrapped your arm around Spock and gave him a side hug. “I’m sorry. Jim insisted.”

“It was probably for the best. He may have combust if he found out with the others on Saturday.”

“You’re not wrong there.” breaking away from the hug you straightened out your uniform. “I’ll catch you later, I should probably get back to work.”

“I await your return.” he watched as you walked out of his quarters and he could feel his eyes expression soften in admiration.

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