You Cannae Change The Script, Jim

[writes on the board]

2009-12-19T06:43:00Z

I will not participate in fandom wank.
I will not participate in fandom wank.
I will not participate in fandom wank.
I will not participate in fandom wank.

EDIT @ 00:47: DAMN IT SELF, WHAT DID I JUST SAY?

Mistletoe [530]

2009-12-12T19:43:38Z

Series: Star Trek, non-specific
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kirk/Spock
Summary: It should not be possible for there to be so much mistletoe on a single ship.

A/N: Written for ksadvent2009.

"Captain-" Jim shut him up with a kiss that caused a light green flush to climb all the way to the pointed tips of the Vulcan's ears. The silence only lasted until Jim had to breathe again, but by then he was fully ignoring Spock's protests and dragging him further down the hall.

"It's tradition, Spock, stop complaining." He pushed his lover into another doorway and kissed him again in full sight of the various storage shelves.

"I do-" Spock's tongue ended up tangled up in Jim's mouth somehow, and it took him the better part of a minute to get it back. "-not believe that tradition-" Then he was distracted by trying to make certain his eager Captain did not attempt to strip either of them in the hallway. "- requires kissing under each and every sprig of mistletoe aboard this ship."

Someone was going to get forced to wash the entirety of the shuttledeck, if he ever found out just who managed to procure so much of the plant. Sulu was looking like a valid target.

"What are you whining about? There's no one down here right now, so it doesn't count as public display." Spock begrudgingly let himself be tugged along down the hall once again.

"We are in a public area," he responded blandly, unsure why he was so willing to indulge this illogical human. "So it could become a public display very quickly."

"That's why you have such sharp hearing," Jim answered cheerfully, finding yet another doorway plastered with the stuff. Spock quietly filed away an argument involving evolution and predator versus prey theory, knowing it would be of no use, resigning himself to allow another heated kiss. No, perhaps he would not scold the collector of mistletoe, but the Chief Engineer for the obviously alcoholic substance he had mixed in with the punch. Or perhaps both.

Thoughts of righteous justice aside, an idea came to mind. "Captain. A suggestion, if I may."

"I like when you call me Captain," Jim purred in response.

"That is most fortunate, as it is your title." Spock reached up and plucked the mistletoe off of the doorway above them, causing Jim to look stricken.

"What did you do that for?"

"I believe I have discovered a more appropriate place for it," the Vulcan replied, taking charge of the situation and leading Jim down the hall instead. Jim's kicked puppy expression quickly faded into one of curiosity, though he glanced longingly at the other sprigs they passed along the way.

Spock managed to get them both to Jim's quarters without complaint, kicking his boots off as soon as they were in the door. Jim let go of his hand, brows wrinkling together as he waited to see just what his lover's plan was.

He was rather surprised when Spock climbed atop the bed, using it as a perch to reach the ceiling. The thin Vulcan fingers carefully smoothed what was left of the tacky substance used to hold the plant up along the tiles, until mistletoe was displayed prominently above the bed.

It fell off not twenty minutes later, but they happily carried on the tradition in any case.

Three's A Crowd [880]

2009-11-29T16:22:32Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Spock/McCoy/Kirk
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Focus on the romantic relationship between Spock, McCoy, and Kirk.

A/N: Originally posted here.

1. Leonard was not a jealous man, per se. At least, not more so than any other human male. However, the shadow of the universe that had been, in some other place and time, hung over all of them. It had made Jim desperate to prove himself unique, destroyed the budding relationship between Spock and Uhura, and jump started the tentative connection between Captain and First Officer that was growing at a rapid pace. He knew what had been said about the relationship; Jim had told him himself, and even Spock had made mention of it. They had been something epic, in this other world, James T. Kirk and Spock, the perfect pair. There was no mention of him in the equation.

As he watched the two talk, joke in that secret way that did not reveal the Vulcan’s playfulness, he wondered if their relationship was going to grow to the point where he was completely unnecessary.

2. Starfleet beds, even the Captain’s, were not made for three people. Jim, helpful as always, liked to sleep spread out. Spock was a bloody furnace, which had its pros and cons. Leonard could stand being pressed against him, as long as Jim did not decide that he wanted to be on the other side and promptly cook Leonard between the two. Leonard, however, kicked in his sleep.

Spock often left them out of sheer annoyance. Jim threatened to tie Leonard’s legs together. Leonard and Spock both threatened to make Jim sleep on the floor.

The soundest sleep any of them managed to have was the time they ended up in a tangle on the floor.

3. Captains were not supposed to fraternize with their crew, much less sleep with two of them. Everyone had gotten used to Jim being a little less formal than most of Starfleet’s captains, but that did not mean he could ever show his lovers the kind of affection that he wanted to except behind closed doors. On the bridge when they were staring at a Klingon ship trying to blow their brains out, half-dying on a biobed, shackled together on an alien planet- he could not even so much as take their hands, much less give them a kiss that would truly explain everything he wanted to tell them before he died.

4. When two of them were mad at each other, all three suffered. Jim learned quickly that when Leonard and Spock got into it, he just needed to leave and come back to pick up the pieces later when they had exhausted themselves. Leonard and Jim occasionally exchanged blows when their fights got bad, not more than one or two punches and a good amount of posturing, but it served to stress Spock considerably every time. And Spock and Jim- Leonard would never understand how two people who worked so well together could sometimes dig in their heels so deeply that the trenches could be used for the next world war.

And the times when they all went to their respective quarters were the loneliest times of all.

5. Sex was awkward enough with two; with three, it was a mess of flailing limbs and confused intentions. A highly enjoyable mess, but one that left them all bruised and often uncomfortable afterwards. There was often a scrabble between Leonard and Jim about who got to be on the very top, and sometimes Spock would get irritated enough to remove them both from the bed and deny them anything at all.

Pon Farr with three destroyed most of a room; luckily, it had been Jim’s bed that had been broken in the process, so none of the higher ups even raised an eyebrow at the requisition for a new one. It been extremely difficult to avoid questions on why both the Captain and the CMO seemed to have trouble sitting down for a good week, however.

+ 1. It had taken months to get Jim and Leonard to agree, both highly against the thought of having someone in their mind (in Jim’s case, again). Finally they relented, however, after realizing the toll it was taking on their mutual lover to keep from sharing his thoughts with them. They sat awkwardly on the bed together, Spock the only one with even a measure of outward calm. The Vulcan offered one hand to each of them, index and middle finger extended. It would be easier this way, he had told them, a lesser connection.

Their combined anxieties hit him like a punch to the gut as their fingers touched. He recovered quickly, returning their fear with affection, soothing love, all the tender emotions that he never spoke of out loud. Then they understood, and the emotions rolled like a storm between them. The way Jim liked the spark in Spock’s eyes when he was amused, the fondness Leonard had for the way Jim garbled his good nights as he fell asleep, Spock’s secret love of waking in the kind of tangle of his lovers that took all of his puzzle-solving skills to get out of.

For just a moment, nothing was hidden, and nothing needed to be, for there was nothing else they needed but each other.

Slow Death By Living [543]

2009-11-29T16:11:11Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Nero/Spock
Rating: NC-17, non-con, insanity, very dark.
Prompt: Nero rapes nu!Spock on the Narada while forcing him to watch Vulcan's destruction at the same time.

A/N: Originally posted here.

Two weeks, four days, three hours, fifty-two minutes, thirty-three seconds. Thirty-four.

There were no answers, not even crushed against him like this, hands desperately seeking understanding. The Romulan did not even bother to shield himself from the telepathic attack; any rational thought was too far barricaded under insanity and hate.

"You did this," came the whispered words, too close to his ear, too familiar. One hand held him by the throat, keeping him pliant, while the other sought out his face, rough fingertips digging into the sensitive psi-points.

If Nero had ever had formal training, he ignored it completely, ripping into Spock's mind carelessly. Memories, sharpened by anguish, flowed from the Romulan's mind, the beauty of a woman, the blinding light that flashed across a galaxy, the telepathic scream of billions of inhabitants, wiped out in a second.

Spock silently screamed his denial, throat flexing against the unyielding grip.

Nero beat him until he wondered if he was wrong.

Two weeks, six days, six hours, fifteen minutes, fifty-five seconds. Fifty-six.

The bed was small, only meant for one occupant, but they managed to fit together like puzzle pieces, Spock's arms tied neatly out of the way. Nero stroked his warm hand down Spock's bare chest, settling it over his stomach with unabashed fondness.

He spoke in the Romulan tongue, a dialect too far removed from anything Spock knew for him to truly comprehend the individual words, his voice soft and indistinct. Exhaustion kept Spock from fighting as Nero pressed against him, sliding into him with a painful gentleness.

The one thing he did understand as Nero rocked into him was the soft litany of Mandana, Mandana.

Three weeks, two days, fourteen hours, three minutes, twenty-four seconds. Twenty-five.

There was an old man who watched him with sadness and silent apologies, even as the Romulan crew beat him to the ground. Spock sat beside Nero's chair, calculating the probability that if he attacked, he could save the elderly Vulcan.

His mind returned only zeroes to him.

Three weeks, six days, two hours, seventeen minutes, five seconds. Six.

Nero liked to show him off to the old man, leaving them naked and bruised in the same makeshift cell. It was something more than a pride in one's pet, something Spock did not understand until the elder Vulcan reached out his hand, a pleading look in his all too familiar eyes.

That night Spock dreamed of blue prints and undiscovered physics, regrets and dreams that he had not yet discovered, the eyes of men he had not yet met, yet could trust with his soul.

Four weeks, one day, twenty-three hours, ten minutes, forty-seven seconds. Forty-eight.

Nero forced Spock's hand onto the release button, easily overpowering him as he fought.

Vulcan collapsed in on itself, pulled by the power of a little red bead of matter.

Four weeks, two days, eight hours, fifty-eight minutes, ten seconds. Eleven.

He could recognize the voice, even hoarse and strangled, that was rattling off the security codes for Earth's defenses.

Six seconds later, he killed for the first time. He hesitated for two precious seconds before he had the keys in his hand, and then the cold comfort of a phaser.

He did not stop shooting.

The Enterprise was here.

Of Materialism and Vulcan Skin [1,294]

2009-11-29T16:02:39Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Pike/Spock
Rating: NC-17, daddy kink
Prompt: Pike is Spock's sugar daddy.

A/N: Originally posted here.

Christopher could never understand why other men hated this. He watched the leather slide over his lover's fingers as the glove was pulled taunt, before the other hand went through the same seductive ritual. The Vulcan slid into a woolen coat, the third such coat he had tested. He buttoned it with his normal efficiency, turning first to the mirror, and then to the man seated on the waiting chairs.

"Your thoughts on this garment?" Spock asked, obediently holding out his arms so that Christopher could see how the sharp lines enhanced the slim figure underneath.

"I like it," Christopher announced after a moment's study. "Is it warm enough?" He knew how easy the chill got to his Vulcan's bones. Spock nodded in response, turning to the mirror again to appease himself of its appearance. Despite everything he said about illogical fashion, Christopher had noted that Spock did have a sense of style, and he approved of every little time it showed.

Inspiration struck him, and he stood, pulling a pashmina scarf from a nearby rack. Spock gave him a quizzical glance as his personal space was intruded upon, but did not complain as Christopher wrapped the scarf around his neck. Christopher tucked the ends down the front of the coat, stepping back to admire his work.

"There. Now the wind won't bother you so much, either." Spock touched the scarf, glancing at himself before nodding in acceptance of the change.

"It is a fine idea." Christopher grinned, though he knew it would not be returned.

"Don't bother taking it all off," he ordered, slipping his wallet out of his pocket and catching the nearest salesman to take the tickets off of Spock's selections.

He felt some pride at watching Spock walk out the shop door, completely clad in new clothing. It was certainly a step up from the uniforms he wore day in and day out. The Vulcan never let himself spend money on anything but the essentials; it had nearly hurt Christopher to find out how carefully Spock partitioned his meager payments. Originally his gifts and offers to pay for items had been rebuffed, Vulcan pride getting in the way. Yet he had managed to slowly ease Spock into it, convince him to accept it as affection and even, occasionally, to ask for things.

"Would you like dinner out or at home?" Christopher asked as they slid into a taxi, arranging their shopping bags on the floorboard.

"Home," Spock answered after a moment's thought, playing bag tetris until everything fit without getting in their way. Christopher gave the taxi his address, smiling at the way the city's night lights flickered across his young lover's face as the hovercar began to move.

He managed to behave himself the entire way to his building, even keeping an appropriate distance so he did not embarrass Spock in front of the doorman again. By the time they got through the door, however, dinner was the last thing on his mind.

He dropped the bags as soon as the door slid shut, stepping forwards to wind his arms around Spock's thin waist. "Christopher?" came the confused reply to his actions, but it just made him smile.

"We can put things away later," Christopher murmured against his ear, hands roaming across the woolen coat and slipping in the gap between a pair of buttons. He could hear Spock's breath pick up, and delighted in the sound. "Bedroom."

Spock obeyed as soon as Christopher gave him the room, setting down his own bags. He started to unbutton his coat as he walked, but Christopher smacked his ass pointedly. "Not until we get there and I can see." The Vulcan took a calculated breath.

"Yes, sir."

Christopher kicked off his boots as soon as he was in the room, discarding his own coat and tossing it carelessly over a chair. Spock waited for him, hands clasped behind his back as if he were waiting for an inspection. Christopher took his time, reveling in the fact that Spock would wait as long as he had to.

"All right, sweetheart." He stepped over to the Vulcan, slipping his fingers underneath his chin, even though Spock had no trouble meeting his eyes. "I want you to undress nice and slow for your daddy, okay? Like he's taught you how to." He watched Spock's barriers soften, the barest traces of emotions now visible.

"Very well." Spock waited until Christopher was properly on the bed, comfortably leaning against an assortment of pillows, before he started to unbutton his coat once more. Christopher's eyes followed the way it slipped off his shoulders and to the floor, in the messy way that Spock only allowed when Christopher wanted something. He unwrapped the scarf slowly, making the man think of the things he could do with it. He knew the cloth would never be enough to keep the Vulcan pinned, but a few whispered words would make him treat it like his bonds were steel.

Christopher moaned, sliding his hand against the growing bulge in his pants, even though he had not yet gotten to see a sliver of skin.

The gloves came next, bitten at the fingertips and tugged off, nice and slow. Christopher could only imagine how that felt against Spock's sensitive hands. By the time Spock was working on his shirt, the man had unzipped his pants, stroking himself brazenly. He felt a sense of satisfaction as Spock glanced down at him, want not completely hidden on his face.

"You can have it once you're done, baby." Spock did not rush, easing out of his pants, stripping off every last layer until he was completely naked. "God, you're beautiful. Come here." The sight of his Vulcan crawling across the mattress towards him never failed to make him groan in pleasure.

Spock did not wait for permission, ducking down to draw his tongue across the tip of Christopher's erection. Christopher realized he was babbling in response, but he could not bring himself to care. He reached to tug Spock upwards for a kiss, but Spock resisted.

"No, Father," he murmured, sliding his long fingers around the man's cock. "Let me take care of you for a little while."

"I'm supposed to take care of you," Christopher protested, though he could not help squirming against Spock's overly warm lips, which were peppering kisses up the underside of his erection.

"You do, so well. I want to show you how much I appreciate it." Then he promptly stopped explaining with words, taking Christopher deep into his mouth.

It took all his self control not roughly fuck his lover's mouth. He thrust slowly, one hand reaching out to stroke Spock's glossy black hair, gently encouraging him to continue. Spock was always fond of that, the soft, affectionate touches he had lived most of his life without. Christopher was more than willing to oblige him.

Spock responded with a small sound, sucking Christopher down as far as he could, soft fingertips sliding across the base of his cock and down to the sensitive sacs below. Christopher jerked in response, murmuring a warning that was completely ignored.

When he could think again, he thought he should ask Spock if he was alright. That, however, took the ability to breathe.

He was answered by the Vulcan sliding up beside him, warm body pressing against his own. "Was that pleasing?" came the soft voice against his ear, kisses following it.

"You're always pleasing," Christopher assured him, stroking his hand down the pale stomach beside him. He could never understand how the people of Spock's past, both family and lovers, had never thought to tell him this.

In any case, it ceased to matter. Christopher was willing to make up for all of them.

Losing A Bet With Destiny [6/?]

2009-11-29T15:46:41Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Bones, Spock, Kirk, Pike, future Bones/Spock/Kirk.
Rating: PG-13, future may be up to NC-17.
Chapter List: Found Here

A/N: I apologize to your friends' list now, because I've got this and several other little fics to post.

“Don’t. You. Move.” Spock and Jim started to protest immediately, both already halfway to their feet. “Shut up!”

Once they were silent, the doctor began to speak again. “Spock, you’re still not allowed to move. I don’t
care who’s calling you. Jim, you’re going to keep your nose out of this. It’s Federation business, not ours.”

“It’s not just Federation business anymore!” Jim barked, his loud voice drowning out the Vulcan’s softer protests. “Their ship is not the only ship up there! What about my crew?”

“They’re flirtin’ with the moon on the other side of the planet at this hour. Just give them a call and make them stay there.” Leonard knew his old friend too well; Jim would rush into the fight, unable to stay still while blows were being exchanged.

“While that may be true for your friend, doctor, it is my business. If they are asking for me, it is best if I go.” The Vulcan began to stand up, Jim stepping over to help him keep steady.

“You’re not well enough to go anywhere, much less prance off to some madman’s ship!”

“I have no choice, Dr. McCoy. That ship can destroy planets. If I do not go, it is possible they will wipe out this one, as well.” That caused Leonard to pause, remembering the small children that had been playing outside just a few nights ago, the wise lines of Dr. Velva’s face, the boisterous bar goers who always bought him drinks after he patched them up.

He hated having to choose between lives.

“What you need is a wheelchair, damn it, not to walk all that way,” the man grumbled in reluctant surrender, though he knew they had nothing that could go across the snow and ice. He walked to the Vulcan’s other side, ignoring his protests as he supported him as well.

Between the three of them, they managed to make it to the square. Leonard was hyperaware of the small tremors that surged through the Vulcan’s body, both pain and cold seeping past the pain relievers and layers of clothing they had given him. When they stepped into the square, however, Spock pulled away from them, forcing himself to walk on his own. Leonard cussed the stubborn bastard under his breath, not quite loud enough for the Starship Captain to hear.

Captain Pike eyes were filled with exhausted worry as he saw them, jogging over to keep Spock from walking any farther.

“It’s stupid to do this,” he told his officer plainly, already knowing the Vulcan’s mind was made up.

“It is the logical choice,” Spock answered calmly, as if he were not preparing himself to beam aboard the ship that had destroyed his planet. “Any other course of action causes the probability of mass destruction and death to rise exponentially.”

“There’s no guarantee he won’t raze this planet anyway,” Pike pointed out. “If you’re his focus, taking you off this planet might be the worst thing we can do. Then, what’s he got to lose by making this solar system a black hole, too?”

“He’s got a point,” Jim added, receiving an elbow in the side for commenting.

“Stay out of this, Jim,” Leonard hissed, but the Starfleet Captain looked over at them, shaking his head.

“Let him. I need all the help I can get.” Pike received a scowl as well, but he ignored it, turning back to his first officer. “I can’t let you go up there. You’re ordered to stay on the planet’s surface.”

“You would go,” Spock replied softly, though they could all hear the steely determination in his voice.

“That’s not the point. The point is that I’d be doing something stupid, just like you’re trying to right now.”

“I would provide a distraction. If he is so focused on me, it gives you precious seconds, perhaps minutes, to launch an attack.” Pike shook his head firmly.

“I said no, Commander. Return to your bed. Now.” The Vulcan set his jaw, not completely able to hide his displeasure as he acknowledged the order.

Jim stepped forward to argue with Pike as Leonard took Spock’s arm again. “Come on, before you collapse on us.”

The walk back was even slower, Spock’s control visibly fraying around the edges. Occasionally he would look up at the sky, fingers twitching as if he wanted to clench his fists, before seeming to remember that he needed to continue walking. Even exhaustion did not seem to be able to drive Spock’s discontent from his mind.

They were only a few steps away from the clinic doors when Jim caught up with them, looping his arm through Spock’s free one suddenly and pulling him close.

“You’re not going to let it go at that, are you?” Spock paused, studying the man with a serious expression before he answered.

“No.” Jim returned the look with a brief, humorless grin.

“Good, me neither.” Before Leonard could ask what the hell Jim was on about, the man had a communicator open in his hand.

“Scotty, beam us up.”

Losing A Bet With Destiny [5/?]

2009-11-25T17:39:21Z

Losing A Bet With Destiny [4/?]

2009-11-25T17:26:22Z

Losing A Bet With Destiny [3/?]

2009-11-25T17:19:45Z

Losing A Bet With Destiny [2/?]

2009-11-25T17:15:07Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Bones, Spock, Kirk, Pike, future Bones/Spock/Kirk.
Rating: PG-13, future may be up to NC-17.
Chapter List: Found Here

A/N: Cleaning up the older chapters and posting them, so I can begin updating again.

It was Jim who carried the Vulcan back, being the stronger of the two. In any other situation he would be bitching and whining about how heavy the guy was, like he did every time he dragged Leonard’s patients to the clinic from the bar, but something about the wounded and scared soldiers had silenced him.

He did not make a sound as he took perfectly even steps, doing his best not to jostle his charge. Not that the Vulcan would notice if he was treated like a potato sack at this point. He was covered in green splotches that Leonard had quickly discovered was blood, and he was burning hot to the touch; not that he could tell whether Vulcans were just like that or if he had a raging fever.

He was wondering if there was anything in his files about Vulcans as they entered the clinic, but for all their prying into other races’ business, they had not shared a whole lot of personal information about themselves. Most likely not even how to take care of a war victim.

Jax was already there, a concerned crease between his eyebrows. He was about Jim’s age, but thin as a twig, so he let the other man set the Vulcan on the table, only helping to rearrange his limbs.

“Where the hell did he come from?” Jax asked, already starting to cut away the officer’s clothes. Leonard liked that about the kid; no shame and plenty of competence.

“Something happened to a Starfleet ship,” Jim explained for him as the doctor hurried around collecting his scanner and protoplaser. He stepped aside with a chunk of the Vulcan’s sleeve, allowing Leonard start his treatment. There was nothing he could do past that, besides sit and wait, and occasionally hand Leonard things that he was closer to than Jax was.

Leonard obviously did not know a single damn thing about his patient’s normal physiology, but that did not bother Jim at all. If anyone could patch up a completely unknown patient, it was his friend.

He studied the scrap of blue cloth in his hand. Two gold bands: a high ranking officer. Lieutenant Commander, at least. His memory was pretty fuzzy on the details; he had grown up under the shadow of Starfleet, and had nearly joined it in a fit of fury. But that would have only made him more like the ghost everyone saw when they looked at him. Running about the galaxy in his own ship, free of regulations aside from licensing fees, suited him much better, in his own humble opinion.

Loads better, if being in Starfleet might have gotten him where this officer was now. He looked up to watch the doctor work, catching flashes of his patient past him; he had seen Vulcans before, aliens who looked as if God had gotten bored and designed their outline with toothpicks, all sharp angles and stiff lines, just to see if he could. At first glance, this one looked as much the same as the rest of his race.

Then, as he continued to wait, he started to notice that little things were off, like the way his ears curved down a bit before rising instead of shooting straight up, and the way his nose did not end in a point, but rounded off. The lips were a bit fuller, too, he thought, not the tight thin lines that he had noticed on the others.

He opened his mouth to comment on it, then remembered that Leonard was likely to hypospray him into unconsciousness if he interrupted. He closed it again as quietly as he could.

Nearly an hour later, Leonard stepped away from his patient, moving to the sink. Green blood stained the water and the bottom of the sink.

“Well, he’s stable, as close as I can tell. Nothing’s going up or down and if he’s not dead yet, I think he’ll pull through.” Jax puttered around on the other side of the table, sterilizing tools and putting them away. Jim stood up and stretched, tossing the ragged piece of fabric in the trash for good.

“So I guess you head back and inform Mr. Gold-Shirt?” Captain, he was sure of that. Leonard shook his head.

“I’ll call Velva and let her know. No doubt she’s keeping in better contact with the ship than we are, and we don’t need to confuse communications anymore than they probably are.” Jim skirted around Leonard to look down at the Vulcan, confirming his earlier observations.

“He’s kind of funny looking,” Jim noted outloud.

“He’s a Vulcan, Jim, they’re all funny looking,” Leonard snarked from where his local communicator was located.

“No, no, I mean, even for a Vulcan.” Trusting in the miracle of sedation, he touched a fingertip to the officer’s ear, following the curve up to the tip.

“- in stable condition – Jim! Stop feeling up my patient! - sorry, Velva- no, Captain, he was just interested in his ears, that’s all, he’s perfectly safe. Just can’t keep his hands to himself-” Jim ignored him completely, continuing his study.

Then an inhumanly strong hand wrapped around his wrist, eyelids snapping open to reveal dark, muddled irises. So much for miracles. Jim made a rather embarrassing sound that made Leonard look up again. “- got to go, he’s awake.”

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re safe.” Jim attempted to keep his voice calm and soothing, though he was certain he could hear the bones of his wrist grind together. Leonard whipped around the other side.

“You’re in my medical clinic. Your captain sent you here.” He put a hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder, keeping him from rising up. “You are injured and need to stay lying down.” It seemed to take a moment for that to get through, dark eyes flickering between the two of them. Over Leonard’s shoulder, Jim could see Jax covertly loading a hypospray.

Then the hand on his wrist loosened and he could feel the blood flow start again.

“I apologize,” he said, in even, strong tones, even though it seemed to take all his energy to turn his head towards Leonard. “The Captain requested you care for me?”

“Yeah. Sounds like your sickbay got a bit beaten up.” Jim did not think that mentioning the ship’s damage was the wisest thing to tell a man in the Vulcan’s position, but if it bothered the alien, no aspect of it showed on his face.

“I see. You have my gratitude. How long would you estimate before I am well enough to help with repairs?” Leonard frowned deeply, raising an eyebrow in his best ‘are you insane?’ look.

“You aren’t getting off this bed for a least a few more days, maybe longer. And you shouldn’t be going back to work for a few weeks.” Though his expression did not change, the Vulcan seemed to be irritated.

“Doctor, while I respect your medical knowledge, there is no time for me to stay in bed. I need to be able to move at the soonest possible moment.” Jim took a subtle step away from them, as he knew the Vulcan was going to get a quick lesson in why you did not argue with Dr. McCoy.

“That is the soonest possible moment you’ll be able to move. I will march right down there and get your Captain to order you to rest if I must, because you aren’t going anywhere if I have to sedate and strap you down to do it!”

“My Captain will realize that I am needed on our ship, sir, and that overrides pain.” Much to the shock of the three humans in the room, the Vulcan sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing smoothly. Jim had seen those wounds; there was no way he was not in immense amounts of pain. Leonard made a startled noise, his hands flailing in startled circles.

While the pain did not seem to be a hindrance to the Vulcan mind, the Vulcan body suddenly decided that it was not going to take this abuse any longer. It took Leonard catching him as he fell and Jim lunging across the bed to haul him back onto it to keep him from the floor entirely.

“You dumbass! You’ll kill yourself if you reopen those wounds! I barely got you stabilized, you can’t just go waltzing around-“ Leonard’s cursing got louder and full of more vitriol as the two of them got the Vulcan properly laid out again, even as he started checking to make sure none of the seals had been torn. “Do I need to sedate you?” he finally snapped.

“- no, doctor. Your point has been quite proven.” He spoke with the same even tone, which seemed to irritate Leonard more.

“Well good! Because if you even think about trying a stunt like that again, I’ll put you out for a month!” He spun on his heel. “Jax, come with me. Jim, keep an eye on the dumb bastard and make sure he doesn’t move.” He stomped into his office, only keeping from slamming the door because the nurse was behind him.

There was silence for a long moment, in which the Vulcan simply stared at the ceiling. It occurred to Jim dimly that he might very well be embarrassed.

“Leonard won’t keep you here when you don’t need to be,” Jim finally said. “He’s a great doctor, even if he’s a bit rude, and he doesn’t coddle his patients.” For a moment he wondered if he had been heard, but then the Vulcan turned his head enough to look at him.

“I cannot afford to waste so much time,” he answered.

“The ship won’t fall out of the sky without you, promise. If they really need your opinion on something, we have a comm unit and your Captain can contact us. They know you’re awake, so, no worries.” There was a pause as his eyes flickered to the mentioned unit.

“That will be acceptable for now.” His gaze returned to Jim, who felt suddenly as if he were being studied. “What is your name?” Jim straightened up and cleared his throat before giving him a grin.

“My name is Jim.”

“Greetings, Jim.” The Vulcan raised one bruised hand and split his fingers in what was recognizable as a cultural greeting. “My name is Spock.”

Losing A Bet With Destiny [1/?]

2009-11-25T17:00:23Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Bones, Spock, Kirk, Pike, future Bones/Spock/Kirk.
Rating: PG-13, future may be up to NC-17.
Prompt: st_xi_kink -AU
-Pairing: Spock/Kirk or Spock/Kirk/McCoy.
-When McCoy divorced, instead of going to Starfleet, he went off planet to be a doctor on any planet but Earth. Preferably a planet that while the main population is humanoid, they do get the occasional non-humanoid.
-While Jim's step-father was an ass at times, he wasn't a complete ass. While Jim did do a lot of bar hopping and bar fights, he eventually pulled his act together but instead of heading off to Star Fleet he became a merchant on a space ship. He often does trading on the planet McCoy ended up on.
-Kirk and McCoy meet, they become friends, Kirk calls him Bones. They spend time together whenever Kirk docks on the planet.
-The Narada incident with the Kelvin did happen.
-Spock still enrolls in Star Fleet, rejecting his acceptance into the Vulcan Science Academy.
-Pike is the captain of the Enterprise, Spock first officer.
-Vulcan is destroyed.
-Somehow, the Enterprise ends up on the planet McCoy's on, with Spock injured preferably. (Maybe it was the nearest planet, or something).

Chapter List: Found Here.
A/N: Cleaning up the older chapters and posting them, so I can begin updating again.

“Come on, Bones,” Jim pleaded with a laugh, sashaying his way into the room after him like a space pirate might do, hips moving just an centimeter too much to either side when he moved and that ridiculous grin plastered on his face. “The world’s not going to end if you come have a beer with me.”

The tiny office seemed too small to hold the merchant, his outlandish charisma coloring the walls more drab than they had been in the first place. Leonard knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he was a doctor, not a drunk, damn it, and he intended to make Jim haul him out of the building. It would make for a better excuse when he told his lone nurse, that way.

“Come on, put Joe or Jack or-“

“Jax.”

“Jax, yes, on call. I’m only on planet for three days, come on, you can’t send me to the bars by myself. You know how these colonists look at strangers.” Jim looked dangerously close to pouting, and Leonard was certain that if the man thought it would work, he would be.

“You’re not a stranger, Jim. You’re the main supplier of this little hovel. Plus, you’ve slept with half the regular bar goers here. ” Alright, maybe sulking was a better word for Jim’s expression right now. His shoulders slumped, and he clenched his jaw, and gave Leonard a petulant glare.

“And one of their fathers might have found out and beat me up. I can’t have it on my reputation that I was beaten up by an Andorian.” Leonard snorted at the thought, his hands already betraying him and collecting his bag.

“That’d be a pretty funny sight, Jim,” he joked. His friend attempted to keep his serious expression, but he brightened when he saw what Leonard was doing.

“Well, then you’ll have to at least be there to see it,” Jim crowed, stuffing his hat back on his head and rearranging his scarf. Leonard just sighed and sent a message to Jax, collecting his own jacket and wrapping himself up before following the merchant out into the planet’s winter.

He would never understand why he had agreed to come play doctor on a tiny colony that didn’t even have Starfleet protection and had winters that made his bones creak, making him feel twenty years older than he really was. The Andorians loved it, of course, the few children they had out playing on the ice even though evening was falling; a gaggle of human children, much more bundled up, followed along, causing a familiar pang of regret that hurt worse than the cold. The other various alien species the colony had collected throughout the years were smart enough to stay inside.

“Man, so I totally need to tell you about this Deltan I met-“ Whatever Jim’s most likely obscene and untruthful story was going to be, it was cut off by the noise of raised voices near the marketplace. The children, possessing the innate ability to know when something interesting was going on, sped off towards it; Jim, who had never lost his childishness, much less the instincts that came with it, followed them at a jog, leaving Leonard to cuss and follow.

A small crowd had formed around three strangers, which, after Jim had jostled a few locals out of the way, Leonard could see were wearing Starfleet uniforms. His first thought was that Starfleet was here to convince them to register with the Federation again, but he quickly realized as he watched the man gesture wildly that this was not a diplomatic situation. Something was very wrong.

“What’s going on?” Jim demanded of a tall man that Leonard recognized as the local butcher.

“Apparently there’s been some sort of battle.” The voice of the golden shirted man cut above the crowd, even and clear.

“We need to stay in orbit above your planet until Starfleet repair ships retrieve us. Our ship is in too poor of condition to make it farther than this. I know you do not have the greatest fondness for our organization, but we are in desperate need of your assistance.” There was a murmur of conversation throughout the crowd, and one of the older Andorians stepped forward, antennae stalks swiveling back and forth in indecision.

“What do you need from us?”

“Access to your communication systems. Any medical personnel you have on hand; our sickbay was damaged, and we cannot treat all of our wounded. Other aid can wait.” Leonard frowned. Well, there went an evening of drinking. Another doctor stepped forward, her blue face concerned.

“You must understand that we do not have advanced machines here, ourselves. But you have the aide of our clinic, and no doubt that of the other medics that we have.” Leonard nearly smiled. Not that he would have refused, but Dr. Velva had quite the way of making sure that everyone else did what she wished them to do.

“Thank you,” the leader said, his shoulders suddenly slumping. He was exhausted, Leonard thought. Pretty soon the adrenaline rush was going to wear off and that man would be useless until he got some sleep. But for now the man was pushing through it, desperately trying to secure everything for his ship. “I have thirteen crew with injuries that we cannot treat on the ship, I will start them beaming now-“

“Sorry, Jim,” Leonard murmured to his friend. “Looks like I’ve got myself a different date.” He pressed his pager to send Jax to the clinic, and elbowed his way through the crowd. Jim, who could never stand being left out, followed in his wake.

Uniformed people, mostly human, began to materialize near the Starfleet officer, mostly in pairs with one supporting the other. Dr. Velva sent out sharp orders, her team appearing as if on cue with stretchers to take the injured.

“I’m a doctor,” he announced amidst the confusion. The golden-shirted man turned to look at him with tired blue eyes.

“How many can you take?”

“Depends how fast they’re going to die on me,” he groused back, forgetting that he should be gentle with a man as stressed as this one. “It’s only me and a nurse.” A man materialized in front of him, a prone body held in his arms.

“Know anything about Vulcans?” Leonard stared at the pale figure, taking in the green tint around his mouth and the tattered pieces that his uniform was in.

“- guess I’m about to learn.”

Moar Memes

2009-11-25T15:18:11Z

Questions by zephtastic, because who else do I steal memes from?
Leave me a comment and I'll:
• I'll respond by asking you five questions so I can satisfy my curiosity
• Update your journal with the answers to the questions
• Include this explanation in the post and offer to ask other people questions

1. What historical era (Renaissance, Romantic, Victorian, etc) would you prefer to live in?
Really, we have it best right now. I don't think I'd do well without all my modern conveniences. But if I had to choose, I think I would choose somewhere around the 1900's. There's such a giant boom of industry, writing, everything, there, that I think it would prove fascinating to have my hand in it.

2. If you had to be trapped in a TV show for a month, which show would you choose?
Star Trek, so much. I'd go crazy learning completely unscientific methods of doing cool stuff. :D
And because - well, I'd die in Supernatural, and Criminal Minds- well, at least tortured. XD

3. If you joined the circus, what act would you most want to perform?
Trapeze. I just wish I had the muscular ability to that, not to mention getting to fly through the air- awesome.

4. What is your favourite kind of food?
Pumpkin. Seriously, I'll eat pumpkin in just about anything.

5. How much of a nerd do you consider yourself on a scale of one to ten (ten being the worst)?
Probably a seven or an eight. I'm very one track minded, and I'm easily obsessed. I'd love doing costumes, and sometime buying/making toys, not to mention all the fanfiction.

I'm not the kind that gets really into the actors, though, or memorizing every show title. I research what I need to in order to write my fanfiction and roleplay, but I'm never going to become a Memory Alpha updater.

Meme Time!

2009-11-17T18:04:32Z

Stolen shamelessly from zephtastic.

The Character Expression Meme

.happy.	.sad.	.angry.	.scared.

.disgusted.	.surprised.	.flirty.	.sexual.

.confused.	.shy.	.playful.	.rage.

.hurt.	.guilty.	.bored.	.laughing.

.sarcastic.	.tired.	.wtf.	.pride.

.sympathy.	.evil.	.innocent.	.in love.

YOUR	FOUR	FAVORITE	ICONS

WANT TO DO IT TOO?
Snag yourself the coding here.

Take As Prescribed [1072]

2009-11-10T00:27:40Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Pike/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: st_xi_kink_meme wheelchair!pike + spock in heat

Originally posted here.
A/N: Trying to get back in the swing of things so I can work on my big WIP (I'm so sorry, hiddenfacade).

Spock had always been warm to the touch, but the searing heat that Christopher could feel through the fabric of his shirt was something else entirely. The field commander in him balked, wanting to send Spock to the nearest doctor he could find. But a doctor would be of no help here.

The Vulcan had been mediating since Christopher had awoke, having left a hastily scribbled note on the night table that he was not to be disturbed. Under it were two words, underlined to emphasis their important. They had talked about it, once, what to do when this happened. He was supposed to leave, take himself a vacation, and leave Spock alone behind locked doors.

It had taken all Christopher's computer skills, not to mention painstaking Vulcan-to-English translation, to find any information on the state Spock had described. Even in the medical circles, Vulcans seemed to talk about it as little as possible.

He had found out enough, however, to know that there was no way in Hell that he was leaving, whatever his stubborn lover said.

Christopher had rolled out long enough to drop a bit of misleading information in a few ears, and promptly informed Starfleet that it was necessary for him to take off a week per doctor's orders. Getting Spock off the hook was easy; the Vulcan had never taken a day of his personal shore leave in his life, and so no one even raised a finger when he pushed through the paperwork approving shore leave starting immediately.

He guessed that he had a few hours before it reached James Kirk's chair, and the man started sending panicked messages to make sure that the Admiral had not broken his First Officer. Jim was young and healthy; he'd survive the heart strain.

Now, back in the warmth of his own quarters, he ran his hands across Spock's stiff shoulders. It was a long moment before there was any reaction at all. When it came, it was simply Spock's voice, rough around the edges in a way that made Christopher frown.

"You should leave," was the announcement. Christopher shook his head, though Spock could not see.

"You might be right. Doesn't mean I'm going to." He kneaded the hard muscle underneath his hands, though it was like trying to massage bricks. "Meditation is not helping, is it?"

"It would be more successful if I were not interrupted." Christopher had to keep from smiling. He knew this was an extremely dangerous situation, for the both of them, but he had never heard Spock sound so downright cranky before.

"Maybe. But it's more likely you'd die, isn't it?" So much for trying to ease any tension out of him; he had frozen like a statue. "I did a little research," he added, by way of explanation.

"Then you know it is too dangerous for you to be here," Spock snapped, twisting around on his mat to glare up at the man.

"What? Because I'm going to look like a threat? Startle you into trying to kill me?" Christopher sat back, spreading his arms out wide. "Don't know if you'd noticed, but there's no one in here to fight over. And I promise you, that door's sealed nice and tight."

"That does not mean that you would not be in danger-" Damn Spock and his ability to argue even when he was feverish and in heat. That did, however, mean he was easier to shut up than other times.

Christopher simply leaned down and sealed their lips together.

It was like giving permission for a bomb to be launched.

The next time he could think Spock was in his lap; at some point their clothes had gone by the wayside- no, not quite true. It was simply that most of his pants were gone, torn at the seam, He still sat on the remains. Spock's volcanic tongue was blocking his airflow, but his body was not caring, straining upwards to take as much as he could.

He was also vaguely aware that they were rolling backwards, but that was not of much concern, either. The wall would stop them before they got too far.

When Spock begin to grip his thighs and lift him up, however, he had to break away. "Spock, Spock- no." He sent up silent thanks that Spock was coherent enough to stop, though the only evidence of it in his dark eyes was that he was actually looking at him. "We're not doing this dry."

For a moment Spock looked like his normal self, the animal wildness he had taken on fading to a thoughtful glance.

Then Spock was out of the chair and between his legs with surprising swiftness, his tongue where Christopher was certain he had insisted he would never place it. So there were definite perks to this biological imperative.

He lost his train of thought completely when Spock pressed that hot tongue inside of him, mercilessly thrusting out and back in again. By the time Spock had decided he had had enough, Christopher was in no mood to argue. He let the Vulcan squirm back up into the chair, easily scooping him up so that he was straddling Spock's kneeling form. His back twinged in response, but suddenly Spock was holding him tightly, supporting him with widespread hands.

Then he did not have a moment to think as Spock pressed into him. He wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulders to keep himself steady, but soon it was not needed. Spock had gotten them up against the wall, bracing Christopher between his chest and the cold metal, each thrust causing the chair beneath them to rock back and forth.

When the chair gave out completely and they ended up on the ground with barely a sense of consciousness between them, he began to realize that Spock was whispering Vulcan nonsense in his ear. His tone was gentle, almost affectionate, in harsh contrast to his violent thrusts. He could only understand every few words, but what he could made his head spin even faster.

Vulcan sex talk. He was going to have to remember that for when- Spock was not talking anymore, just kissing him, possessively claiming his mouth until their bodies seemed to react on the same note-

Well, his doctor had told him he should sleep on firm surfaces. After a moment's thought, he decided that Spock's chest was plenty close enough.

WIP Excerpt Meme

2009-11-07T18:16:27Z

Post a paragraph from every WIP you can find. No explanations allowed, just the excerpt. Ganked from zephtastic

Kirk, however, showed up, took one look at the pair, and laughed for a straight minute. And then very promptly shut up.

“Can you reverse it?”

- - - - - - - - -

Bones (as he had decided to nickname his new friend and roommate), had told him very specifically not to come out here, which, of course, meant that he had to check it out. He had heard of the ghettos, but never actually seen one; only the biggest cities had them, and rural Iowa was not even close to one. San Francisco, however, had one of the largest, a little town in and of its own, surrounded by high walls. It was surprisingly easy to get in, only a flash of his military license and he was free to wander where he liked.

- - - - - - - - -

It was Jim who suggested it, to the surprise of no one. Spock and Leonard had both given him a look as if he was mad, and promptly declined. It had begun what Spock referred to as an elaborate courtship ritual, and Leonard called Jim’s desperate need to get laid.

- - - - - - - - -

“He’s kind of funny looking,” Jim noted outloud.

“He’s a Vulcan, Jim, they’re all funny looking,” Leonard snarked from where his local communicator was located.

“No, no, I mean, even for a Vulcan.” Trusting in the miracle of sedation, he touched a fingertip to the officer’s ear, following the curve up to the tip.

“- in stable condition – Jim! Stop feeling up my patient! - sorry, Velva- no, Captain, he was just interested in his ears, that’s all, he’s perfectly safe. Just can’t keep his hands to himself-” Jim ignored him completely, continuing his study.

- - - - - - - - -

“- nine months of vomiting and muscle cramps on an alien planet where human pain killers were practically unheard of, not to mention how to do an abortion and I’m not so damn stupid as to stick a hanger up my-“ Bones pulled away from the door, frowning at the Vulcan standing beside him. Spock’s eyebrows seemed in danger of harassing his hairline as his sharp hearing no doubt caught the rest of the continuing tirade.

- - - - - - - - -

So many! Once I have a break from school, maybe I'll be able to actually work on these. Though really, I'd much rather write about this lot than solve pre-calculus problems...

Random Midnight Ramblings

2009-10-31T05:18:23Z

I really shouldn't read things like st_secrets_arc, because they just end up pissing me off. I can understand the want to say things about your fandom, but the way most people do it is just so hateful and hurtful. I like hearing what other people think, but - damn. There's a difference between ranting and insulting people. I rant all the time, especially about my fandoms. But I try not to outright insult people.

I guess I take fandom a bit too seriously, because it is important to me. It's my hobby, it makes me happy. Not only that, but I love discussing things, love taking them apart, philosophizing and analyzing every bit of it. And I hate when people make me feel like that makes me racist/an asshole/obsessive/worthless.

Times like these makes me realize why I play Spock, and sympathize with him.

You know what I really want right now? This guy:

He somehow makes the world better.

(Spock-bear can come too. Though damn it, where's the McCoy bear?)

What? People use this thing for journal entries?

2009-09-28T01:57:56Z

I'm going nuts. I worked all weekend moving dirt and mowing, and I think I overbaked my brain. I can barely focus. I've got math homework to get done by midnight, and I need to study for my Chem test which is tomorrow, but- that's not getting done. Well. I'm attempting the math thing. But, yeah, you want me to factor trinomials right now? Aahaaahaa. What.

I have tags to catch up on but that'll be sporadic because I'm sporadic right now and that takes work.

Right now I'm just attempting to focus. Tried by changing all my icons, but, not really sure that worked.

So, if you happen to be reading this: Icon Meme, stolen from someone and not verbatim.

Pick a few of my icons, and I'll tell you why I have them.

Maybe that'll calm me down a bit.

Fanfiction: Training Session [2,502]

2009-08-11T04:59:45Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Christopher Pike/Spock
Rating: PG-13/Rish
Prompt: Power issues, possible daddy themes; Pike knows how to keep his officers operating at their highest level of efficiency.
Notes: So this is closest I've ever gotten to managing to write porn. Un-betaed, but thank you very much to the helpful anons over at the st_xi_meme discussion post who helped and gave emotional support. It helped so very much.

When the bell rang, the cadets exited the room like their tails had been set on fire; only a few brave souls took their time, carefully collecting their materials instead of rushing out with them in a large pile. Pike took a mental note of them: a chubby red-haired boy with a stern set to his jaw, a pair of Trills that moved together like dancing partners, and a tall African woman who dared even speak to her distinguished professor. The Vulcan at the front of the classroom answered her questions in his quick, efficient manner, and when she left, she did so with a smile.

Most definitely keeping an eye on that one. To see someone with the balls to smile at the expressionless mask of Mr. Spock was quite a surprise. He shifted in his seat, returning this gaze to said professor. He seemed clueless of the fact that he terrified his students with his severe mannerisms and dangerous intelligence, or perhaps he simply did not care. Pike had come to realize that Spock was recklessly brave in that manner, his lack of fear translating into a complete negligence of social politics. One had to watch him carefully if they dared take him to a formal event, for he was likely to speak his mind exactly where it should not be heard. It was exactly why he was a professor and had not been picked up by any ship yet, though his skill as a science officer was unsurpassed in the entire Academy. He was a risk no one was willing to take.

The fact that the Vulcan was grounded bothered Pike greatly. He had a knack for seeing talent in others, in tracing the lines of fate they were not likely to choose for themselves, and the potential wasted in Spock was nearly painful to see. It was more than just his skill in a lab; Pike had watched the way that he handled his classroom, kept perfect order to the point that even the class clowns were unwilling to fire off a joke. Not only that, but they listened to him. Despite his monotonous tone, he had the sort of voice that made one stop and pay attention, what the words coming out of his mouth were. He would make someone a perfect Commander.

It would take one hell of a Captain to handle him, however. Not even his own sworn Captain would be safe from the sharp barbs that enclosed Spock’s opinion, not to mention that Pike had no doubt that if it came down to it, Spock would mutiny in favor of the logical choice. That quality, in a First Officer, was simply unacceptable. It was the lame leg that stopped the Vulcan from reaching his full potential.

Pike was always willing to take on a project. He stood up and walked towards the front of the room, where Spock was finishing shutting down the classroom’s computer. The Vulcan glanced up and promptly straightened, clasping his hands behind his back in his formal manner.

“Fine class as always, Mr. Spock,” Pike said, having noted as much on his review. Spock tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“Thank you, sir. Are there improvements you would suggest?” The Vulcan had jumped the gun on that one, used to the other officers railing at him for one thing or another. Pike would have considered it a flaw in Spock’s perfect reasoning, except that he realized that logically, he had no reason to expect Pike to be different. The man shook his head instead, focused less on the class and more on his own ideas.

“Not for your course, but I would put in a request that you would continue your own education.” He saw the line of Spock’s shoulders stiffen, the barest hint that he was likely to take offense at Pike’s next words.

“Was there a flaw in my information?” he asked, that irritatingly calm voice clashing with the indignant look in his eyes. Pike could not help but smile a bit, pleased that he managed to spot a spark of emotion in the Vulcan.

“Certainly not, Mr. Spock. I meant continuing your education in terms of making you more qualified for an officer position.” The rigidness did not fade from Spock’s body. Pike held up a hand to stop a protest. “My asking the question was merely being polite, Mr. Spock, forgive me. What I am saying is that you have a lesson with me, starting now.” The professor was trapped. He could only nod his head in acceptance.

“Of course, sir.” Now if only Pike could train him to say that to every situation. Perhaps, with a bit of work, he could. His mind whirled with thoughts of a curriculum for Spock’s new training course as he led him out, heading towards the simulation decks. It normally took a reservation to secure one, but Pike knew that no one would refuse him an empty deck. Spock followed with what to anyone else would have been considered obedience, but Pike had known the Vulcan too long; he knew that he had irritated him highly.

As expected, the clerk let him through without protest. He chose a small simulation, setting the computer to fill the empty posts, leaving open Captain and First Officer. He handed Spock the fake badge that announced his presence to the computer. “Commander,” was all the explanation he gave as he entered and sat down in the captain’s chair. The Vulcan took the badge and pinned it to his shirt without comment, moving to stand beside him.

“Computer, run situation 4.56A,” Pike announced. The mechanical voice verified, and the lights flickered once before the screen began to show a course. Within seconds the panel was sounding, noting three ships approaching from the edge of the view. “Sound the yellow alert. Those are Klingon ships.”

“We have no evidence of that, sir,” Spock replied, though he pressed the alert button obediently. Pike raised an eyebrow.

“I have reason to believe they are,” he replied dryly. Spock’s right eyebrow twitched.

“And what reason is that?” Here went nothing.

“You don’t need to know.” As he expected, that caused the Vulcan to pause, turning towards him.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“I said that you do not need to know my reasons,” he repeated carefully. Spock’s eyes darkened.

“As a Commander, I need to have knowledge of your logic, sir.”

“No you don’t.” The Vulcan seemed utterly confused by what he took as a completely illogical conclusion. Pike held up his hand to stop another protest. “I am Captain here, and I am privy to things that even you, as my First Officer, may not know. And it is your job to keep everything running smoothly at my order, not to question me.” He was impressed that Spock managed not to outwardly bristle. Pike turned back towards the screen, ignoring him for a moment. When the ships registered as Klingon, he shot the Vulcan a satisfied look Spock said nothing.

“Computer, as soon as the vessels are in range, fire.” This time, Spock could not keep his mouth closed.

“Captain! That is an act of war.”

“I realize that, Commander,” Pike replied evenly. “I will accept the consequences of our actions.”

“And I will not. This is completely against regulation.” The vessels were coming dangerously close to phaser range. “Computer! Hold fire.” By the time the computer verified, Pike was on his feet.

“And you have just committed an act of mutiny,” he growled, stepping just enough inside Spock’s personal space to see him stiffen further.

“I have upheld Federation Law and Starfleet Regulation, as well as possibly averted an incident that could spur the Federation and the Empire into all out war.” Pike moved forward again, and was gratified to see the Vulcan lean back on his heels, attempting to get further away from him without admitting discomfort by stepping back.

“How much do you really think that regulation holds that much sway out there, Spock?” He suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders, fingers digging tightly into the fabric-covered muscle. The touch did send the Vulcan backwards, but Pike stepped with him, pushing him back against a panel. “Yes, you should have respect for them. But sometimes they aren’t going to help you. Sometimes the rules are going to need to be broken. Your captain will need to break them, for the good of everyone.”

“Your actions are not for the good of everyone.” Spock shot back, voice barely even. There was anger lurking in his dark eyes; Pike had to trust that his self control was too good, his respect too great, to turn this into a physical encounter. No doubt the Vulcan could put him out of commission without breaking a sweat.

Suddenly the alarm lights went off, flashing the bridge in red. “Captain, the ship has just been hit. Shields at sixty percent,” the computer droned. Pike did not bother to step back as he cast his order.

“Maintain shields. Fire all phaser banks.” Spock watched the screen over Pike’s shoulder.

“You knew they were going to attack,” he announced.

“I did. They happen to be Klingon raiders, disaffiliated from the Empire. Thus, firing on them would never have been an act of war.”

“Why did you not inform me of this?” Spock asked, indignation in his eyes for the second time that day.

“Because I should not have to, Spock.” He hooked his fingers underneath the Vulcan’s chin, more for the show of dominance than to force him to look; Spock had too much pride to look away. “In a crisis situation, your captain is not going to be able to tell you all he knows or how he knows it. He may make plans that only have seconds to get from his brain to his mouth to reality. There is no time to stop and question him. If you do, those moments may cost lives.”

“It is the duty of the first officer to offer advice and guidance to the captain,” Spock answered, but there was a weakness to the words. Pike latched on to it.

“Yes, it is. When there is time. But a captain is a captain because when it comes down to the wire, he is the one that has to make a decision. You cannot make decisions for him. You have to trust him, more than you trust yourself, and follow his every order to the letter.”

“I am not certain I can do that,” Spock finally replied.

“Trust or follow orders?” There was a pause.

“Yes.” Pike released his chin, the hand on his shoulder sliding down his arm to his hand. Spock all but jumped.

“Sir-“

“I know. I have studied it.”

“Then-“

“You need to stop arguing with me. For the moment, I am your Captain, and you are going to have to trust me.” He waited a moment, but Spock stopped and watched him, like a wild animal unsure if it needed to bolt. He slid his fingers in between the Vulcan’s and was rewarded when he realized the very tips of his ears had begun to take on a darker shade.

“Sir, I do believe that you have gotten erroneous information and that this is highly inappropriate-“ Pike cut him off with a few whispered words against the inner curves of his ear.

“Sometimes, with difficult students, one must find unorthodox ways of teaching them.” He gave into the temptation to touch his lips to the tip, murmuring against the skin. “You’re trapped on the ground, Spock. You must change, or you will never get a chance to go further.”

“Perhaps I am pleased with my position,” Spock answered, voice dead calm. Pike bit the tender upward curve sharply.

“You would be lying if you claimed that, and we both know it. You’re too smart for that, too ambitious to stay down here with the old men who’ve already had their glory days. If you wanted to be a professor you would have stayed on Vulcan, turned that Science Academy upside down. But instead you’re here, not even teaching the sciences, but left teaching languages. You are being wasted here, by this entire fleet.” He pulled back to look him in the eye, squeezing their hands tight together again. Enough to get his attention, enough to make sure that he did not retreat inside of his own head.

“It’s because you don’t trust anyone, Spock. You don’t believe them when they insult you, and you don’t believe them when they compliment you. You don’t trust anyone but you and that handbook of logic in your brain. And that’s what we call subjective, isn’t it?”

“You believe I should trust you. Why?” It was really remarkable, the way he managed to keep impassive, even halfway bent over a console with the two of them nearly chest to chest. Pike sealed the gap, causing Spock to end up partially on the console, unable to keep his feet firmly on the floor.

“Because I want to see you up there. In your element, visiting planets no one’s seen, going on diplomatic missions, controlling an entire science department. I want you and that infernal Vulcan logic to be put to good use, see you with multiple stripes on your sleeve.” Pike slid his hands underneath Spock’s thighs and hefted, forcing him upwards until the Vulcan was fully sitting on the console and he could slide in between his legs. He relished the slight hitch in breath it caused, putting a strong hand in the small of his back and pulling them flush together.

“So trust me because you want it too, and I’ll work to make sure you get it.” Spock watched him with an unreadable gaze, but did not attempt to get away.

“Why is this important to you?” he asked, stubborn as always.

“I hate to see potential wasted.” Then Pike’s fingers found their way into Spock’s short hair and pulled him forward into a kiss. The Vulcan froze, but he did not relent, nipping at his bottom lip when he finally pulled away. “So trust me to do only good things for you.” It was a long moment before Spock answered that, the edges of his lips twitching downwards.

“You have given me a logical argument,” he finally stated.

“Meaning?”

“I will trust you until you give me evidence to disprove it.” Pike smiled, smoothing the hair he had ruffled back into its normal, perfect configuration.

“So you will allow me to continue lessons?” Spock considered the question with the graveness that he did everything, and then inclined his head slightly.

“Yes, I will.” Pike took a hold of his hands, this time both of them, and forced them above his head, pressing them to the cold steel of the wall, face sliding back into the serious expression he always used on the bridge.

“Then let me inform you as to what a ‘safe-word’ is, Commander.”

Fanfiction: Open Doors [1,920]

2009-07-31T05:46:44Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Spock, McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: st_xi_kink His planet was destroyed, his mother killed, he snapped and damn near killed Kirk, AND he met the future version of himself from an alternate timeline.

I think it's safe to imagine Spock could come down with PTSD.

He hides it well, but McCoy knows something is right and finally pushes.

Just your basic McCoy/Spock h/c.

Originally posted here.

McCoy had never thought about how expressive Spock’s eyes were until the first time he saw them completely blank. It lasted for only a second, but it sent a chill down his spine when he realized that Spock had not been studying his screen, but staring vacantly into space. The Vulcan was so damn good at convincing everyone that he felt nothing, even after the events of a few months ago, that it was startling how frightening seeing him truly emotionless was.

But the moment had passed, and Spock arched a dark eyebrow. “Can I help you, Doctor McCoy?”

“I’m good,” he had said, forgetting all about the argument he was going to start, and hurried away.

He started watching, then. It was nearly funny, all the different signs he could find when he watched Spock for long periods of time. In the mornings, when he should have been at his best, sometimes McCoy could spot thin lines under his eyes, tinged just a shade too green. Exhaustion, he realized; Spock was not getting enough sleep. There was anxiety, too: the way he snapped around a second too fast whenever someone approached him on the bridge, the tense line of his shoulders from muscles holding themselves at the ready at all times. He noticed downright fear, too, one time when Jim was angry at a set of diplomats, stomping around the conference room ranting to his two best friends; he would never understand how a man who outwardly did not seem to change could suddenly look as if he were attempting to hide himself in a corner.

And then there were the times when he saw nothing in the man’s dark eyes, and that frightened him more than any of the other things combined.

It all came to a head when he had the Vulcan in sickbay, recovering from another bout of trouble on an alien planet (really, he and Jim were a suited pair, always getting into trouble where danger should not even exist). Spock was sleeping, or at least what counted as sleep for him, leaving McCoy time to file reports. At first he thought he was imagining things, but the soft, nearly inaudible whimpering continued just on the edge of his hearing. He checked the computers in his office to make sure none of them were making the sound, then slid open the door; the whimpering intensive in volume.

He was at Spock’s bedside in seconds, disturbed to realize that the Vulcan’s eyes were half open; his eyelids fluttered over the delicate inner lids that made him seem much more alien. The machines started to beep angrily as they recorded his already strange heat beat speed up and his lungs began to pump harder than they needed to. It had never even occurred to the doctor before that it was possible for a Vulcan to have nightmares. Maybe it was not, and this was simply a fluke of his human half.

Either way, he grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking lightly. “Spock! Spock, wake up!” A few moments later, he was thinking that it had been extremely stupid to shake an alien who was stressed, scared, and several times stronger than he was as he was pressed against the far wall. Spock’s eyes were filled with an anger he had seen only once before. Then it flickered into confusion, and then straight into fear. He pulled back as if he had been burned, letting McCoy slump back against the wall.

“I- apologize, Dr. McCoy. You- startled me. Excuse me.” His words came out rushed and ragged, as if he had been yelling. McCoy understood by one look at his face that if he let Spock go now, he was going to flee, both to his quarters and further into his head, and he would be unable to retrieve him. So the second the Vucan moved towards the door, the man seized his wrist.

“Oh no you don’t. I haven’t cleared you to leave.” Spock gave him a look that did not completely hide his surprise.

“I am perfectly fit to leave, doctor.” McCoy scowled at him.

“That so, huh? No, you’re not. For one, you’re bleeding again.” He jabbed a finger at Spock’s shoulder, where the seal on cut had broken, allowing green to seep through. “Two, you’re either going to talk to me or you’re going to get a full psych eval before you step out of this room.” The way Spock’s eyes widened at the threat confirmed completely that something was deeply wrong with the Commander. McCoy’s expression softened.

“Come on, sit down. I need to reseal that cut of yours.” Spock had no choice but to obey, sitting on the edge of the biobed. McCoy worked slowly, to give him more time to start the conversation. “How long’s it been going on, Spock?”

“How long has what been going on?” was the response, full of feigned innocence. He and Jim really were more alike than anyone knew.

“The nightmares, the anxiety, everything that’s been keeping you awake at night.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, then hazarded a guess. “It’s why you got this knick right here, isn’t it? You were too worn out to move quickly enough.” Spock’s head ducked, but McCoy did not miss the look of shame that had told him that he had hit pay dirt.

“You are correct, doctor.”

“How long, Spock?”

“Two months, three days, six hours.” McCoy was frankly surprised he did not give him the countdown to minutes and seconds, but refrained from commenting.

“That’s a mighty long time to be dealing with something by yourself.” Spock swallowed, looking away. “It’s not healthy for anybody, you or the rest of us.”

“I understand. I have made a mistake in returning to the Enterprise. I will resign my post immediately.” McCoy blinked, wondering how the hell the conversation had jumped straight to that.

“Are you insane?” were the first words out of his mouth. Spock looked up at him with eyes that he could have sworn held sadness.

“I have misjudged my ability to function as an officer of this fleet twice. I will not make the same mistake again.” It took all McCoy’s self control not to hit him. He could smack Jim, but Spock might actually court martial him before turning in his resignation.

“You know what your problem is, Spock?” he answered instead, forcing himself into the Vulcan’s personal space. “It’s not that you’re not a damn good officer, because you are. Kirk wouldn’t know which way his head screwed on if you weren’t up there on the bridge talking him through it. Boy’s a brilliant captain, but you and I both know he couldn’t wait through Starfleet politics without you holding his hand. But you forget something. You’re part of a damn crew, Spock. That means you don’t do everything yourself. And you certainly don’t sit around and decide to go through depression by yourself.”

“Depression, Doctor?” Spock was close to frowning at him now, but consternation was better than any of the other feelings he had been displaying (or not displaying).

“Guess you never got explained that one as a kid, did you? Yes, depression, because you are the worst case of depression I’ve ever seen.” McCoy was scowling now, angry at the culture who had told him to hide everything away until he got to this point. “Because guess what, Spock, you’re not a special snowflake who is having nightmares and anxiety attacks because you’re weak. Because this is normal. You think Jim didn’t wake up in a cold sweat some nights after Nero? I know he did, because he came knocking on my door. Hell, it took me half a bottle a night to get to sleep for a few weeks afterwards. Everyone on this damn ship was shaken up in one way or another.

“But we’re getting better, and you’re getting worse. Guess why. Because you won’ t deal with it. You’ll suppress and hide and pretend you don’t feel it, and it’s rotting you from the inside out. You’re right, you can’t perform your duties like this. But nobody gets kicked out of Starfleet for having a broken bone, because it’s fixable. And so I’m not letting you throw yourself out of it and go off to be miserable on some colony because this can be fixed , damn it. You’ve just got to let me help.”

For a long moment he thought the Vulcan was going to get up and walk out, doctor’s orders or not. That look, the dangerously blank one that scared McCoy half to death, crossed his dark eyes for a moment. Then it passed, and a look of deep focus overtook it.

“You- say that you can fix this. To the point where I can remain in my post.” McCoy fought the urge to grin in triumph, nodding instead. “How?”

“You’re going to have to do something I don’t think you’ve ever done before.” The edges of Spock’s lips twitched downwards in confusion. “And you don’t have to do it with everyone, just me.”

“What is that, Doctor?” McCoy took Spock’s hand, ignoring the way it made him tense in surprise.

“You’re going to have to stop lying and start talking.”

“Vulcan’s don’t-“

“Bullshit.” Spock looked up at the man, a million emotions crossing his eyes while his face stayed perfectly still. “If I came right out and asked, maybe you wouldn’t lie to me. But you’ve been lying to the entire crew for the past two months, six days-“

“Three days.”

“Whatever. About your condition, by taking your post. You were implying that everything was alright. It’s not. I know that now, you knew it then.” He shifted back, letting the Vulcan’s hand go.

“ I’m not saying the rest of the crew needs to know it. They don’t need to know that you’re anything but your normal stoic, statue-like self. But someone does. And hell, I’m the logical choice, aren’t I? I’ve got the psychology training, I’m not your direct subordinate or superior, and you don’t give a shit what I think of you, so.” Spock was watching him with that calm, considerate look.

“I think we’ve gotten to the point where all I have left to add is- what’ya say?” There was a lengthy pause.

“I- will consent to be treated by you, doctor.” McCoy brightened further than was perhaps necessary, clapping Spock on the shoulder.

“Well, there’s some common sense out of you at last.” He grabbed his PADD and started to make notations. “I’ll give you something to help you sleep- don’t look at me like that, when’s the last time you’ve gotten a full night’s sleep? I thought as much. And then you’re free to go. We’ll start sessions another day, after you’ve gotten caught up on your rest. You’re on medical leave for the next twenty-four hours, at least, don’t argue with me, man, I’m you’re doctor.” By the time Vulcan was allowed out the door, he was looking faintly chagrined.

“Wait- Spock. One more thing.” Spock pursed his lips, looking back at him.
“Yes?” McCoy paused, debating his own course of action before continuing.

“I told you Jim came knocking on my door a couple times, right? Well. The door’s open for you, too.” There was a moment of silence, and then Spock inclined his head.

“Thank you, doctor.” As he walked out, McCoy could swear that the line of his shoulders had softened.

Fanfiction: Error [3,190]

2009-07-31T05:40:44Z

Fandom: Star Trek XI
Characters/Pairing: Spock, Kirk, McCoy
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: st_xi_kink "When Spock first came to the fleet he was still learning human customs. He hands in an assignment in the wrong format and the instructer asks to see him after class. Teacher man tells Spock the proper punishment is to give the instructor a blowjob. He does it.

So on the Enterprise when he submits a report to both Kirk and McCoy in the wrong format and is called on it, he attempts to give a bj. Kirk and Bones demand answers, h/c ensues, and it'd be great is jerkface teacher gets some abuse for his troubles too."

Originally posted here.

It took all of his finely tuned Vulcan self-control to not lick his suddenly much too dry lips in front of the Captain and his CMO. Kirk was frowning at the computer, as if not quite certain of what he was seeing. McCoy was poking about the conference room, having no true reason to be there, as far as Spock could tell, besides distracting the Captain.

“Spock, this is in MMV format. It won’t translate to the ship-wide records.” Neither man noticed the Vulcan’s shoulders stiffen as he thought the report over in his mind.

“You are correct, Captain. I have made a mistake.” McCoy snorted from across the table.

“Never thought I’d live to hear those words,” he murmured; Kirk favored him with a slight grin before turning back to Spock.

“Well, I need you to fix it.” He turned the monitor in Spock’s direction and sat back in his chair, knees falling open in what the Vulcan took to be a pointed manner. Spock glanced up at McCoy, who had finally flopped into a chair himself.

“I am to fix it in his presence, sir?” He could feel the tips of his ears begin to heat at once. Kirk raised an eyebrow, glancing at the doctor and then back to Spock.

“Yeah? It’s not like he’s going to judge your technique or anything, Mr. Spock.” All Spock could do was nod until he found his voice again.

“Very well, Captain.” A few minutes were all it took to switch the format, though all the while he noted how Kirk fidgeted in his chair, throwing glances at McCoy. No doubt they were impatient for him to complete his punishment. He wondered if it was necessary to perform the act on both of them; for his own sake, he hoped not. The first and last time he had performed the act it had been an unpleasant experience, enough so that the rest of his Academy papers were checked and double-checked for proper formatting with a nearly religious zeal.

He had become too lax in his proofreading. It would certainly not happen again, but for now, he needed to take the consequences. As soon as he finished, he pushed the monitor back towards Kirk, and settled to his knees before him.

The air in the room suddenly got extremely thick. Spock ignored it to the best of his ability, placing his hands on his Captain’s thighs.

He had never seen a human move quite as fast as Kirk did in the moment he realized that the Vulcan’s hands were moving upwards. The chair clattered to the ground and the man looked as if he were about to clear the table in an effort to put more space between them. Spock settled back on his heels, regarding Kirk with confused eyes.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Kirk was yelling at the top of his lungs; McCoy was on his feet too, now, staring at Spock as if he had gone mad.

“Captain?” Spock asked evenly, not moving from the floor. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there’s a problem! What the hell was that?” Kirk looked as if he were about to hyperventilate, but the doctor did not seem to notice, eyes still riveted on Spock.

“I was performing the proper penalty for my mistake.” There was a pregnant pause in which the two human men looked at each other, and then back to the Vulcan. McCoy managed to speak first, his tone one more appropriate for a startled curse than a normal word.

“What?” Spock canted his head at a ten degree angle, unsure how to continue.

“I was under the impression that I had made a mistake that required punishment.” Kirk took a step towards him, his eyebrows tightening together.

“Spock, what- exactly were you about to do?”

“Perform the act of fellatio.” Much to his shock, he suddenly found himself hauled to feet by his collar, Kirk doing his very best to shake him.

“Who the hell told you to do that?” There was a light in his Captain’s eyes that was beginning to make the Vulcan feel strangely nervous, and apparently the doctor felt the same way.

“Jim! Let him go!” McCoy inserted himself between them, but could not fully extract Kirk from Spock’s shirt.

“Answer the question, Spock. That’s an order.” Spock straightened the best he could with two men weighing him down.

“One of my professors at the Academy informed me of the human tradition.” It was one he had always ignored when himself when he was a professor, but this time he was returned to the lower position and had no choice in the matter. Kirk’s face went slack with shock, and McCoy stopped wrestling with him to stare.

“- Spock- one of your professors- told you that?” He saw no reason why the man felt a need to ask him to repeat what he had just clearly told him, but he nodded in response.

“I take it he punished you, too, am I right?” McCoy asked, his voice suddenly a harsh drawl that surprised Spock.

“- yes, once.” Kirk hauled Spock forward and the doctor did not stop him.

“What was his name? Tell me his name, right now.” The man’s breath was hot and angry on Spock’s face.

“Dr. Norton, Captain.” He could not understand what he had done to offend Kirk so badly that he was seemingly close to physical violence.

“- I’ll kill him,” Kirk said suddenly, letting Spock go and striding for the door with a purpose he had not seen since the diplomat from Starfleet had been throwing orders around their ship. Spock started after him, but was stopped by McCoy’s surprisingly gentle hands on his shoulders.

“I do not understand,” he admitted, unable to keep from feeling a pang of anxiety.

“Spock- Spock, come here. Sit down.” He pulled a chair out from the table, ignoring the one still on the floor, and pressed on the Vulcan’s shoulders until he sat. He then took one beside him, turning to face him, expression drawn tight as if he was attempting to repress anything he was feeling. It was a strange sight, to see him not express whatever it was he was thinking. “That’s not a tradition. That’s not a proper punishment, especially not for- a fucking mistake on a report.” Ah. So he had offended the men, somehow, with his second mistake.

“- I apologize for my error, Doctor. I will make sure it does not happen again.” He bowed his head slightly and started to stand, but McCoy’s hands were on his arms again.

“Wait, wait- Spock- we’re not angry at you.” The Vulcan paused, cocking an eyebrow.

“The Captain seemed quite irate.”

“Spock, for Christ’s sake, he wasn’t mad at you, couldn’t you see that? He’s mad at the bastard who told you that in the first place!”

“- Doctor, he has no reason to be angry. Certainly it is a culture difference amongst human sects, I just did not understand that-“ Then it was Doctor McCoy who had him by the collar, shaking him.

“There’s no culture where that is fucking okay!” the man yelled, knuckles quickly turning white against the science blue of Spock’s uniform. “You understand that? He lied to you, Spock. That isn’t how things work, not in any sane mind. We’re humans and we can get pretty messed up sometimes, but there isn’t a damn place on Earth were forcing someone to suck their cock is considered okay, much less legal.” Spock felt his muscles stiffen of their own accord.

“I- see, Doctor. Thank you for clearing up that misunderstanding.” He stood abruptly, tearing McCoy’s hands from his shirt by the sheer force of it. “Excuse me.” McCoy looked about to protest, but rethought it. He watched Spock stride out of the room with a worried expression on his face, and then decided it was best to let him go for a while and to go make sure that Jim was not threatening war with the Academy.

Jim had to be physically hauled away from his computer, which had the beginnings of a very dangerous recording on the screen.

“Jim, you need to calm down, you aren’t going to help anyone going on like this.” McCoy managed to wrestle him into a chair, turning off the screen with one hand.

“But that bastard-“

“I know, Jim. I want his head, too. But we can’t just go throwing accusations around, y’know? What if Spock won’t talk?” He knew too much about how this sort of thing worked, back when he was a resident, the young men and women, sometimes even children, who would tell him again and again, no, nothing has ever happened to me, despite the evidence glaring from his scanners. He could report what he found, but in the end, most of the time, it was worth nothing.

“He’s got to talk, that professor can’t just walk-“

“Spock may not want to talk. Vulcan’s aren’t immune from shame, Jim.” Jim growled under his breath, trying to stand again.

“Then I’ll order him to talk.” There was a resounding crack in response as McCoy’s fist met his Captain’s jaw, and then a perfuse string of cursing that culminated in, “What the hell, Bones?”

“You aren’t thinking straight, and I intend to make sure your head gets clear. You order Spock to do that and you embarrass your First Officer, abuse your powers as Captain, and lose the trust of a friend.” McCoy’s voice softened. “Jim, you’ve got to think about Spock.”

“I am thinking about Spock,” Jim muttered, rubbing his jaw, but most of the venom had gone from his voice. “I’m thinking that someone who used him like that shouldn’t be allowed to go free, much less teach more students.”

“Listen, Jim. Can you imagine how ashamed Spock is right now? We both know the guy; it’d completely embarrass him to be tricked so well, not to mention finding out that he’s been used to get some bastard he trusted off. He’s gonna be hurt, Jim, and he’s probably going to be hurt badly. We can’t risk making that worse, not yet.” Jim paused, and McCoy was relieved when he finally relaxed his gold clad shoulders.

“You’re right, you’re right. Damn.” He ran his hand over his face, frowning into his palm. “What the hell do we do, then? He’s not exactly going to let us hold his hand while he cries.”

“I don’t know, Jim. But we need to keep a close eye on him. I don’t know how he’ll react any better than you do. Knowing our luck, he’ll pretend not to react at all.” Jim stood up suddenly, startling his friend.

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Jim, I’m not sure that’s the best idea-“

“Listen, Bones, the more time we give him, the better his defenses are going to be. He’s building them up right now, prepared to never talk about this again. And you’re not the only one who knows something about psychology. It isn’t healthy, and I won’t let him do it.” Despite everything, Jim was right. McCoy shook his head, straightening up.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, not yet. He’ll feel attacked with both of us on his case at once. Just- do some research on that professor, okay? I want anything and everything you can find.” McCoy clapped his hand on Jim’s shoulder, squeezing it fondly.

“Alright. Good luck.” Lord knew the man would need it, trying to fight a Vulcan’s emotional defenses. But then again, he had done it once; no doubt he could do it again. McCoy could only hope their fragile friendship survived the aftermath.

It took his command override code to get into Spock’s quarters. The Vulcan had not replied, but the computer had verified that he was there. As soon as the doors slid open, he strode in before anyone could see or Spock could stop him; a mistake, on his part, as the sudden increase in gravity made him stumble. Right, okay, this must be Vulcan normal gravity. It also explained why it was suddenly sweltering hot.

There was movement from the sleeping area of the quarters and Spock appeared around the screen, still fully dressed. Kirk boggled at how the Vulcan could stand to have any clothing on in this heat. He tugged awkwardly at his collar as Spock watched him, expressionless.

“Captain?” It was as effective as a yell of anger. Kirk swallowed, straightening.

“Commander. We need to talk.”

“If it is about the earlier misunderstanding, I apologize and do not wish to speak on it further.” Jim gritted his teeth, putting on his firmest Captain voice.

“Well, you don’t have a choice. Sit down and make yourself comfortable, because we are going to talk about this.” As if to demonstrate, he pointedly flopped into a chair. Spock stared at him for a long moment like he was very tempted to glare. Then he carefully sat in another, facing him.

“What is there to talk about, sir?” Kirk had known him long enough now to catch the undercurrent of irritation on his tone, and he knew that he had to tread carefully.

“You have a few choices. Either you can bury this and never speak of it again-“ He had to put up a hand quickly to stop Spock from interrupting. “And quite possibly let this guy continue other students like he hurt you.” He was rewarded with the unclenching of Spock’s jaw. “Or you can work with us to figure out a way to stop him and make sure he’s punched- I mean punished.”

“Captain?” Spock finally responded.

“Yes? Go ahead.”

“You wish me to bring a court martial against the man. I cannot do that.” Jim scowled, leaning forward.

“Why not?”

“If news of this – embarrassment got out, which it surely would, it would be of great detriment to not only me, but my father.”

“But Spock- he deserves to be in jail.”

“Perhaps. But I cannot help put him there.” Jim was on his feet in seconds, filled with anger: at Spock, at the professor, at his own helplessness, at the whole damn culture that would blame Spock and his family for what accounted as manipulation.

“Aren’t you angry? Even just a little bit? The man used you. He manipulated you and all but attacked you. How can you not want retribution for that?” Spock stood, very deliberately.

“What I want is not part of the equation, Captain. It is not logical to dwell on the past, and so I shall not do it.” For the second time that day, Kirk had the front of his First Officer’s shirt.

“Then think about the other students! What if he’s hurting them? Monsters like that don’t stop the first go round. They keep doing it again and again and each time it gets worse.” Spock’s eyes widened a millimeter, but he stood firm.

“Then they may speak up, if they wish. I cannot.”

“So you’re going to let them continue to get hurt so you don’t get embarrassed?” When the growl entered Spock’s voice, Kirk knew he had hit pay dirt.

“I never said that! There are other ways to handle this kind of situation!”

“And just what are those, Mr. Spock?” Their fight was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the comm unit.

“Spock? Jim? Let me in.” Kirk started to cuss McCoy’s name, but Spock called out the command for the door to open. The doctor looked distinctly uncomfortable as a blast of warm air hit him in the face, but carefully stepped in. “I got that information for you.”

“Yes, and?” he grumbled, glaring at his friend.

“The man’s dead, Jim.” There was a distinct pause.

“- dead?” Kirk finally asked.

“He responded to the call about the Narada just like we did. The ship he was on was destroyed.” McCoy offered his PADD, which Kirk accepted gingerly. He glanced over at Spock, who watched them both for a moment, and then very carefully sat down, looking away so they might not see the emotions in his eyes.

“Spock-“ Kirk began, but the Vulcan cut him off.

“Any points that were to be made by either of us are now invalid. Please leave me in peace.” Kirk ducked his head meekly, as if he were about to acquiesce, but McCoy interrupted.

“Hell no. We’re not going anywhere.” Both Captain and Commander looked up at him as he stomped over to the chair that Kirk had vacated and sat down.

“I have nothing more to say on the matter.”

“And I don’t care about talking about it.” He was rewarded by a completely confused expression and an arched eyebrow in unison. “You don’t have to talk about anything. But I’m certainly not going to stick around and let you dwell over it for the next however-many-hours until your next shift.”

“I wish to be alone,” Spock tried again. McCoy scowled at him.

“I’m your doctor, and I say it’s not healthy, so you are hereby ordered to have some medically relevant socializing. Which means you’re stuck with the both of us for the evening.”

After two arguments about their presence, three about the temperature, a lengthy chess game that ended in a stalemate, and an illegally procured bottle of chocolate liqueur, Jim leaned over, attempting to whisper but it came out more as a husky drawl, “And you said I’d be the one abusing my station.” McCoy snorted.

“He’s asleep instead of mopin’, what more d’ya want?” Jim shrugged his shoulders, brushing his fingers through the Vulcan’s thick hair.

“Think he’ll ever talk to us about it?” he murmured, frowning down at his friend.

“Maybe someday.” McCoy shrugged as well, before clambering over the sleeping Vulcan, making himself comfortable on the other side.

“What’re you doin’?” Jim found himself raising his eyebrow much in the way Spock would if he were conscious.

“If he wakes up by himself, he might go straight back t’mopin’ and I’m not gonna let that happen,” the doctor answered, trying to fit on a bed that already was attempting to hold two full grown bodies. Jim pondered on this for a moment.

“You know, Bones, I think Spock would call that logical thinking.” He grinned and avoided the smack coming from across the bed. Spock stirred with a soft murmur, making both men freeze. As soon as he settled again, Kirk pressed a finger to his lips, curling closer.

When Spock awoke in the morning, he was sandwiched between two half-dressed human men, both of whom were sweating quite profusely in the heat of the room. He had to pause, half-awake, and wonder why in the world he was feeling entirely content about the very uncomfortable situation.

It took some doing to slip out from between them without waking either one, and he found himself having to hurry for the first time in years to make it to his shift on time. He did not neglect, however, to stop and turn the temperature down before he left.

icon post: X-Men/Star Trek Crossover [12]

2009-07-31T05:24:49Z

- Credit would be lovely (you can credit cantfindreverse at either IJ or LJ, or credit alterego_icons at IJ.
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Shipping Meme

2009-07-12T17:46:17Z

Gacked from whenisadoor.

Six ships you're into right now
1. Kirk/Spock (Star Trek)
2. Spock/McCoy (Star Trek)
3. Amanda/Sarek (Star Trek)
4. Dean/Sam (Supernatural)
5. Dean/Castiel (Supernatural)
6. Dean/John (Supernatural) (- don't look at me like that. :|)

Three ships you liked, but don't like anymore
7. Sam/Ruby (Supernatural)
8. Dean/Ruby (Supernatural)
9. Dean/Anna (Supernatural)

Three ships you never liked (This is hard. I'm a shipping whore. D:)
10. Spock/Uhura (Star Trek)
11. Sirius/Remus (Harry Potter)
12. Ron/Hermione (Harry Potter)

Two ships you're curious about, but don't actually ship
13. Kirk/McCoy (Star Trek)
14. Scotty/Chekov (Star Trek)

Why do you dislike #11 so much?
I just never saw the connection or the appeal. They are one of the few pairings that I honesty just see as having more of a brother-type relationship. Secretly shipping James/Sirius still probably doesn't help much, though that's never stopped me before.

Who is someone you know that ships #14?
Half the fanart artists I stalk.

What would be your ideal scenario for couple #3? Amanda/Sarek
I want a young them to have an awesome adventure where the diplomatic proceeds between Vulcan and Earth are in terrible danger of being ruined by rebels! Or something. Or, you know, just being frickin' cute at home, which you know they so are.

Which is your favorite moment for couple #1? Spock/Kirk
I'm only on the first season of TOS, but the back rub scene was amazingly funny. More seriously, I also loved where Spock requested a direct court marshal in The Menagarie and Kirk basically screamed 'DENIED' at him. Seriously, overprotective Kirk? Makes me happy.

How long have you been following couple #6? John/Dean
A few months. Ever since a friend and I started devlving into the sticky bad psychology that would cause it.

What's the story with #8? What made you stop liking them/caring? Ruby/Dean
They had like- two scenes where they kind of connected. And I thought a friendship/attractive of non-trust would be an interesting thing to explore with them. And then they went back to bitching and Ruby got more and more unlikeable, so it just wasn't interesting anymore.

You have the power to make one ship non-existent. Choose from #10 Spock/Uhura or #12 Ron/Hermione
Spock/Uhura. *ducks* I mean- it's even less that I'd make it non-existant. I'd just want it changed. Because I thought the idea was interesting, but- then the way it played out just didn't make sense. For one, Uhura seemed like a bully who used her relationship with Spock to get her way, which bothers my inner femenist. Because you can be a strong, intelligent woman without running over your boyfriend, y'know. And the elevator scene was just downright creepy. For one, Spock was no doubt trying to clamp down on his emotions and deal with him. He really didn't need Uhura trying to make-out with him and make him feel more emotional. She should have known that from dating him at all.

And the kissy-transporter scene? Spock and public displays of affection - just no. Before they left and they were somewhere private? Okay. Fingertip touching? I'd of awwed so much.

But three strikes you're out, I guess.

Which ship do you prefer #2 Spock/McCoy or #4 Dean/Sam?
That's downright evil. But I'd have to go for Dean/Sam, because of all their angsty, brotherly, obsessive mind-fucked-uppedness.

What interests you about #14 Scotty/Chekov?
They're just- cute. I haven't read/seen much, but what I have has been downright adorable.

Why did you stop liking #7? Sam/Ruby
Same with #8- Ruby's character never got developed in an interesting way, and it just wasn't worth thinking about anymore.

Did your waning interest in #9 (Anna/Dean) kill your interest in the show?
Oh, hells no. I think the world would have to end to drag me away from Supernatural. And Dean/Anna wasn't that big of a thing, anyway.

What’s a song that reminds you of #5? (Dean/Castiel)
Already Over, Pt. 2 - Red, because it was on a Dean/Castiel fanmix.

If you could have any of these two pairings double-date, who would it be?
Kirk/Spock and McCoy/Spock which isn't really a double-date, but a threesome.

Which would be something beautiful.

Have #2 (Spock/McCoy) kissed yet?
Don't I wish.

Did #4 (Dean/Sam) have a happy ending? If the show hasn't ended yet, do you think a happy ending is likely?
Dean and Sam, pairing or not- are either going to get a happy ending and live in a little white clapboard house of joy, or die in a scene together that will make me sob like a baby.

What would make you start shipping #13 (Kirk/McCoy)?
I- dunno. I like Kirk/McCoy/Spock, yet I have little interest in just seeing Kirk and McCoy. Maybe they're too much alike? IDK.

If only one could happen, which would you prefer, #2 (Spock/McCoy) or #6 (Dean/John)?
SPOCK/MCCOY PLZ.

You have the power to decide the fate of #10 (Spock/Uhura). What happens to them?
They split up because of their differences. Uhura goes back to being awesome and Spock goes back to being slashy, kthx.

Which do you dislike the most?
Spock/Uhura is getting my hate today, sheesh.

Which of these ships do you love the most?
Umumum- Kirk/Spock/McCoy. It's one ship, honest. :|

icon post: Bert McCracken [30]

2009-06-28T03:32:14Z

- Credit would be lovely (you can credit cantfindreverse at either IJ or LJ, or credit alterego_icons at IJ.
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icon post: Adair Tishler [62]

2009-06-27T06:02:54Z

- Credit would be lovely (you can credit cantfindreverse at either IJ or LJ, or credit alterego_icons at IJ.
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- Most pictures from here.
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icon post: Star Trek: TOS [79 of 1x01, + 2 Banners]

2009-06-24T00:12:20Z

I'm getting into TOS and enjoying it a lot, so icons must be made, of course. These are from 1x01, The Man Trap, mostly of the main cast.

Nichelle Nichols needs to stop being so damn cute and having great facial expressions so I can stop iconning her. Seriously, I hated the new Uhura, but I'm in love with the old. <333

Also including a Kirk-Spock banner I made.

1x01 - The Man Trap

Banners

- Credit would be lovely (you can credit cantfindreverse at either IJ or LJ, or credit alterego_icons at IJ.
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