fic arc: Lessons (1/4) (K/S)
Title: No One But Ourselves
Pairing: pre-K/S
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed herein. No money was made from this work of fiction.
Summary: Takes place one month into the Enterprise's 5-year mission. Jim has a few things to learn about being captain. A wariness of alien orgies is just one of those things.
There's something deeply disturbing about knowing that in another life you were part of an infamous and inseparable duo, but that in this life the other half of that pair hates your guts, thinks you're a fuck-up and will probably never want to be the friend he was to you once upon a lifetime ago.
Jim doesn't care, he just hates knowing about what he can't have. He doesn't care, for example, that Spock won't eat with him. He doesn't care because he has his one friend -- the highest number he's ever been able to manage at one time -- and everyone else can just fuck off. That is, until Bones decides he's too much of a hassle and stops hanging out with him. Then everyone can stop fucking off long enough for Jim to find a new friend. It's an inevitable process, he just hopes it takes awhile this time. He likes Bones.
Still, it's never a bad idea to have a plan. Maybe Sulu will want the position, he thinks as the helmsman comes to sit with them in the mess. Jim did jump off of a drill for him that one time...
"Hey," Sulu greets them with a grin. Jim returns the greeting with a smile and Bones nods amicably. Jim likes that Sulu is casual with him when they're off duty. And sometimes when they're on duty too. Yeah, Sulu would make a good friend, if Bones ever gets tired of the job.
They're joined shortly by Chekov and eventually Scotty, with a few other engineers Jim vaguely remembers the names of. As the conversation flies around him, Jim is silently pleased that his table has more people at it than Spock's, which seats a grand total of his first officer and Uhura.
Maybe Spock only does one friend at a time too. But in that case he's still short one because girlfriends don't count. Then again, Uhura's not a typical girlfriend. Not that Jim would know, seeing as how she'd managed to reject him 57 times in 3 years. Secretly he hopes she never thought too much of it; nothing like a girl who thinks you're in love when really you just want to see how many times she'll say 'no'.
"Right, Captain?" Chekov is saying, his eyes bright and smiling. Jim doesn't know why the kid always looks at him like Jim's the one who pulled him out of a free-fall into an imploding planet, but it never fails to make him smile a bit.
"What?" he asks and the ensign immediately begins replaying the conversation, something about the pick-up game they started in the rec room last night. He's using specific mannerisms for each person he quotes and Jim thinks that if Sulu weren't already in line to be his friend next, Chekov probably could be, just because he's so damn cute. Or maybe Scotty, who hasn't stopped laughing or adding in foot-notes to the rapidly-paced story. Even Bones is grinning as Chekov gesticulates wildly, obviously kind of loving the attention, so much so that he doesn't notice that Spock and Uhura have stopped on their way out to listen to him.
"So then Hikaru says we do not stand any chance and I answer that we gladly accept his challenge and will defeat him astronomically!"
Jim has to laugh because that's an awful lot to agree to, but everyone's smiling at him so of course he has no other choice.
"We surely will," he says, holding his hand out for Chekov to shake. With a quick glance over the ensign's shoulder he can see Uhura smiling like he's just done something incredibly sweet. He's not sure whether to be embarrassed or insulted, but Spock is clearly not impressed so maybe she's just got a soft spot for their resident kid-genius. He certainly doesn't, he just thinks the kid is hilariously competent at anything he does, including sports, so of course he'd agree to be on his team.
"You gonna come?" he asks Bones, who scoffs at him.
"I'll go if Spock does."
Which means Jim has to look over at Spock and raise his eyebrows invitingly enough to not seem rude, but unenthusiastically enough to make sure everyone knows he doesn't really care when Spock says 'no'.
Spock declines of course, but Uhura says she'll join them, so Jim can't help but dig a little.
"Not gonna come watch your girl play?" he says, standing and grabbing his tray.
Spock raises his eyebrows and turns to Uhura.
"Would you appreciate my presence at this sports event?" he asks and Jim can't help but roll his eyes. If that's a healthy relationship he'd rather let himself out the airlock. So maybe it's a good thing he and Spock aren't the epic friend's they're supposed to be because if he had to hang around them and their careful concern for understanding one another, he'd want to vomit all the time.
"Always shall be, my ass," he mumbles, dumping everything down the recycler and not waiting for Bones to join him before the exits the mess.
- - -
If ever there was an ideal pleasure planet, Jim thinks as soon as they've beamed down, Sigma IV is it. They'd have to give it a sexier name, of course, since its native title is unpronounceable for many species, but everything else one might want on a pleasure planet it has: lush landscape, open and luxurious architecture, succulent foods and a native people so beautiful and androgynous it is nearly impossible to tell their three genders apart.
Yup, Jim thinks as a Sigman with flowing auburn hair and violet eyes greets him warmly, he could get used to living here.
"We are very pleased to host your vessel and crew while you wait for a repair team to assist you," the Sigman says, her -- his? -- accent thick through the Universal Translator.
"I and my crew are grateful for your hospitality," Jim says, not quite able to keep the flirtatious smile from his lips. The Sigman returns the gesture, mostly with his -- her? -- eyes.
"I can only wish we could be of more assistance in regards to the repairs your ship requires."
"Oh, no, you letting us orbit your planet is assistance enough. We couldn't ask for a better place."
A soft scoff sounds from the back of the crowd that has gathered to greet the landing party and okay, maybe he was laying it on a little thick just then but that's no reason to call him out on it. The Sigman he was speaking to turns towards the noise, looking to one blonde in particular.
"Solan? Do you wish to speak?"
The blonde in question presses its lips together briefly before stepping forward. "I simply do not appreciate the false sentiment," 'Solan' says, clearly not addressing Jim. "After the Federation's initial surveillance of our planet they have paid no attention to us or our needs. Unlike our neighbors, they offer us no support because we are of no economic value to them."
Jim can feel his temper spark at the accusatory glances this second Sigman is shooting him and is about to respond, perhaps unkindly, when Spock speaks up from just behind him.
"The Federation engages in open trade with Sigma III because its people have reached warp capabilities and are in a position to benefit fully from what the Federation has to offer. Had explorers from Sigma III not landed upon your planet several decades ago the Federation would never have introduced itself to your people, in accordance with the Prime Directive."
So that was a lot nicer and calmer than anything Jim might have said, but it still smarts that Spock felt the need to answer for him. A second later, however, Jim is glad he was not the one to make a comment on behalf of the Federation. The blonde turns its accusatory glare onto Spock.
"Your Prime Directive no longer applies to us as a people. We are aware of the outside universe and have been for decades. Why have you still ignored our requests for economic and developmental stimulus assistance?" The blonde is yelling now, its graceful hands clenched into fists at its sides. Spock, Jim is sure, has a logical answer for the Sigman, but before he can comment the brunette who had initially led the welcome party steps forward and places a hand on the blonde's shoulder.
"Solan," it says gently, skimming its hand up Solan's shoulder and neck, "be calm."
And then the most awesome and fucking weird thing Jim has ever witnessed happens: they kiss. Not just a friendly or reassuring kiss either, but a full on, deep, impassioned, somewhat pornographic kiss.
And then the others start to join in. There are hands everywhere as the single kiss turns into a make-out orgy, and only when clothing starts to come off does Jim snap out of it. He turns to Spock who is watching the scene with a detached air of vague scientific interest.
Jim stares until Spock's attention is diverted to him and then he mouths an incredulous 'What the fuck??' to his first officer. Spock takes a step closer and explains in hushed tones.
"Had you read the cultural briefing Lt. Uhura prepared for you, you would know that the primary reason the people of Sigma IV have yet to reach warp capabilities is that aside from basic architectural and agricultural they use very few tools in every day life. This societal developmental delay is ascribed by many anthropologists to their natural responses to conflict: sexual relations. The people of Sigma IV do not hunt, and they do not fight. They have never experienced war."
Jim gaped for a good ten seconds before clarifying, "Because they're too busy having sex?"
"The sentiment Lt. Uhura used when explaining the phenomenon to me is: it is easy not to hate when you are too busy loving."
Jim kind of wants to laugh, hearing that come out of Spock's mouth -- it makes him wonder if Spock ever quotes him when he's not around and what that must sound like. On the other hand Jim kind of wants to cry, having to watch all these beautiful people get it on and not being able to really enjoy it because his first officer is standing right next to him and the security personnel behind them are looking highly uncomfortable.
"Perhaps we should find somewhere else to be until they have concluded their activities," Spock suggests, still leaning into Jim's personal space so as not to disturb the Sigmans. Jim nods slowly and then more vigorously as he turns his back to the scene.
"Right. Let's get out of here."
The sounds of a fucking alien orgy, oh god why is he walking away follow them through the open courtyard until they have circled the building and taken several steps into the lush forestry. Spock immediately begins scanning flora with his tricorder, while Jackson and Thorben huddle together to talk in hushed tones.
"Hell of a first away mission for you two, eh?" he calls out playfully. They both shoot him somewhat commiserating looks, which only deepen when the sounds of high-pitched moans float out to them. Spock raises one eyebrow in his direction and really, all Jim can do is laugh.
After the afternoon's encounter, dinner is an interesting affair. Jim brings down a larger party with the hopes that someone will do something to upset the Sigmans and they'll get it on again. Selfish, he knows, but he's okay with that if it means getting to watch this time.
At present he's staring at the picture Uhura makes seated between two beautiful Sigmans. He imagines what it would look like if they started kissing her right now and, as if he can read Jim's thoughts, Spock clears his throat to turn Jim's attention.
"Captain, I have overheard some of the crew speculating whether we will be spending the night on the surface and I feel inclined to remind you that we are not cleared for shore leave, despite the ship's current condition."
'Don't get any smart ideas about trying to spend the night,' is what Jim gets from that, which is disappointing but also pretty obvious.
"Thanks, Spock," Jim smiles, patronizingly. Spock merely blinks and returns to his food.
Easy for him though, Jim thinks unkindly. He gets to go home tonight and fuck his hot girlfriend.
Jim takes another sip of the excellent wine and tries to get back to the place where he doesn't care about Spock or Uhura or their healthy relationship. One of them just better fucking be on some kind of contraceptive because Jim does not need a little bundle of joy on his goddamn star ship.
Not that he cares.
"You alright?" Bones asks from his other side. "You look like you're about to throw up."
"It's nothing," Jim answers, draining his glass. "I'll be better when my ship is fixed, though."
Bones laughs. "Well no offense to your lady, but I'm looking forward to spending the night on solid ground."
Jim can feel Spock turn towards their conversation, ready with a speech about inappropriate shore leave, no doubt, and laughs.
"Me too," he says, accepting a refill of whatever he's been drinking all night as Spock leans over to tell the doctor that he will not, in fact, be spending the night covered in beautiful Sigmans.
The first signs are subtle and not unexpected from a crew that's been drinking all evening. After Jim's had to pull three different ensigns and a senior security member off of various Sigmans, though, things start to get weird. A good kind of weird, to be sure, but weird nonetheless.
The Sigmans start singing.
It's a slow song; low and seductive and varied, as if every Sigman is singing a different part and yet somehow they all manage to blend together. Jim has seen Orions dance, and while this is nothing like Gaila's body twisting and arching, it is at once exactly the same. He feels himself starting to respond, leaning toward the Sigman who had replaced Bones at some point in the evening. He -- she? -- leans in too, husking out the foreign words as her -- his? -- eyes dart down to Jim's lips.
"Captain," Spock interrupts. Jim turns his head slowly to see Spock standing there with Uhura. He has his arm around the Lieutenant, restraining her from moving toward two kissing Sigmans. Jim's attention is diverted to the scene as well until Spock steps in front of his gaze. "Jim. I am beaming up with several crew members."
"You're not staying?" Jim asks. The clear disappointment in his voice is kind of embarrassing.
"No," Spock starts, pulling Uhura back to him when she tries to get away, "no, I am not."
They stare at each other for several beats and Jim wills Spock to demand for him to return to the ship too. He won't of course, Jim being the captain and all, but Jim still wishes Spock gave a fuck. Care, he pleads silently. Care if I come home tonight. Instead Spock nods and turns, pulling Uhura along with him.
Jim stares at the space Spock has vacated until a warm hand smooths its way from his shoulder to his neck. He turns back to the Sigman, and then looks around the room. Spock is dragging several of his science ensigns away from the central table. The hall is less full than Jim remembers it being. Either Spock has been taking people home for a while now, or they've all scattered. Neither option is ideal since Jim is the captain and taking care of/keeping track of the crew is his job. Bones is nowhere in sight and Spock is dematerialize across the room and the Sigman next to him hasn't stopped its siren song. So Jim closes his eyes and pretends he doesn't care.
There are fingers in his hair and hands under his shirt. There may even be a foot inching its way up his leg, but Jim hasn't been able to tell body parts apart for awhile now.
He's been alternating between immensely pleased at finally being involved in a Sigman orgy -- even if his part is more spectator in nature, than actual participant -- and immensely depressed that he's been left on a strange planet with a bunch of strange aliens and no one seems to give a fuck.
Someone rolls on top of him and the 'fuck yeah, alien orgy!' phase has just begun to take over when Spock appears in his field of vision.
"Captain, please come with me."
"Spock," Jim grins, reaching a hand up to his first officer. "You gotta feel this. Their tongues are like... fuck," he trails off as a Sigman licks up his neck. It's kind of like being gently electrocuted, but in the best possible way, and Jim's hips push up of their own accord.
And then there are strong fingers around his out-stretched wrist. "Jim, you are needed on the ship." He sits up as Spock tugs on his arm and the Sigman rolls off him gracefully, already headed toward someone else. Jim watches her -- him? -- go sadly until Spock yanks on his arm and he's suddenly standing.
"Hey," Jim tries to protest, but his legs aren't cooperating, so instead he ends up with his face pressed to Spock's shoulder, trying not to end up back on the ground.
"Two to beam up," Spock is saying. Jim wants to ask who the captain is here, but Spock's got an arm around his waist and one of Jim's hands just happens to be pressed against his quick Vulcan heartbeat so no words are really forming for Jim right now.
Once they've materialized safely on the transporter pad Spock nods to Scotty and shifts so as to drape one of Jim's arms across his shoulders. They make their way to the turbo lift slowly, perhaps more slowly than really necessary but Jim can't be blamed for wanting to be cautious. He is apparently more drunk than he'd realized.
"Man, what was in that drink?" he asks, to prove that their crawling pace isn't uncalled for.
"I do not know, but it has certainly had an interesting effect on your Human crew members," Spock answers, and there's something in his voice that makes Jim's stomach turn. He knows it's jealousy, but he's usually so damn good at hiding it from himself and he hates that he can feel it now.
"Thanks Spock," he says pulling his arm from around Spock's shoulders. "I think I can make it from here."
Spock looks between him and the final 20 meters to his door and frowns slightly.
"Captain, I will rest easier knowing you had arrived safely in your own quarters-"
"Don't pretend that you care," Jim snaps, falling against the bulkhead as he pulls away suddenly. Spock catches him, of course, before he slides to the floor and isn't that just great.
"Jim-"
"Shut the fuck up! You don't have to fake it with me; I don't care if you don't care."
Spock's eyes narrow like Jim's not making any sense, which is entirely possible. He watches Jim for a moment before slipping the hand on Jim's shoulder up to the bare skin of his neck. Jim inhales sharply and waits for the pressure, but it doesn't come. Spock continues to watch him silently and when he's finally finished he pulls Jim's arm across his shoulders again and walks him slowly, so carefully, to his door.
Inside, Spock seats Jim on the bed, pulls off his boots and turns down the sheets. Jim's shocked and drunk enough to actually climb in -- uniform and all -- and just as Spock's about to leave, he pauses at the door.
"Jim, you are the Captain. It is your job to care."
And with that he leaves.
Jim falls asleep eventually, Spock's words and eyes and hands all he can think about.
It is not often that Jim Kirk feels the need to apologize. That's not to say there haven't been opportunities or legitimate reasons for him to apologize, he's just never really been inclined to act upon them.
This apology, though, is all he's been thinking about all day.
"Spock," he calls as soon as the half-Vulcan exits his rooms. He's been lurking in the hall for about twenty minutes now waiting for Spock to emerge, pacing and probably scaring away the two whole people who have tried to use this hall in that time.
"Captain," Spock answers, moving to stand by Jim. There were words Jim had planned to say; words that made sense and were not pathetic or un-captain-ly.
What comes out is, "You shouldn't have read my mind last night without my permission."
Spock raises an eyebrow.
"You were not being particularly articulate or rational. I had only thought to expedite the process of you making clear to me what has been bothering you for the past month." Spock doesn't sound very apologetic, but Jim will pretend that he looks at least a little sorry for invading his captain's privacy.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim assures him. He takes a step to move down the hall but Spock blocks his path.
"Then please allow me to explain."
"Spock, I don't-"
"You are operating under the misconception that this -- your captaincy -- is temporary. It is not. If you continue to tell yourself, however, that you do not care about what goes on aboard your own ship I do not predict that many will want to serve with you again in the future."
Jim stares at the half-Vulcan and tries to aim for carefully blank, just like his First Officer's own expression.
"You know for a guy who claims to not feel anything you sure seem pretty confident about my emotions."
Spock considers him for several beats. "Perhaps it is my lack of feeling that grants me the ability to sort through your own."
"Maybe," Jim agrees, still kind of at a loss for anything else to say. He's just been psycho-analyzed by his first officer in the hall between their quarters. And their shift started about five minutes ago.
"We are late," Spock says, like he's still reading Jim's mind.
He wants to tell Spock to forget the bridge and come back to his rooms with him. They could get drunk and pretend this conversation never happened.
Instead he smiles. "Well, at least we picked good people to be late with. Who's gonna get us in trouble but ourselves?"
Spock's eyes soften slightly and Jim knows for a fact that caring is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than not.
"Who indeed?" Spock answers, and for some reason Jim can't regret anything.
Chapter 2
Pairing: pre-K/S
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed herein. No money was made from this work of fiction.
Summary: Takes place one month into the Enterprise's 5-year mission. Jim has a few things to learn about being captain. A wariness of alien orgies is just one of those things.
There's something deeply disturbing about knowing that in another life you were part of an infamous and inseparable duo, but that in this life the other half of that pair hates your guts, thinks you're a fuck-up and will probably never want to be the friend he was to you once upon a lifetime ago.
Jim doesn't care, he just hates knowing about what he can't have. He doesn't care, for example, that Spock won't eat with him. He doesn't care because he has his one friend -- the highest number he's ever been able to manage at one time -- and everyone else can just fuck off. That is, until Bones decides he's too much of a hassle and stops hanging out with him. Then everyone can stop fucking off long enough for Jim to find a new friend. It's an inevitable process, he just hopes it takes awhile this time. He likes Bones.
Still, it's never a bad idea to have a plan. Maybe Sulu will want the position, he thinks as the helmsman comes to sit with them in the mess. Jim did jump off of a drill for him that one time...
"Hey," Sulu greets them with a grin. Jim returns the greeting with a smile and Bones nods amicably. Jim likes that Sulu is casual with him when they're off duty. And sometimes when they're on duty too. Yeah, Sulu would make a good friend, if Bones ever gets tired of the job.
They're joined shortly by Chekov and eventually Scotty, with a few other engineers Jim vaguely remembers the names of. As the conversation flies around him, Jim is silently pleased that his table has more people at it than Spock's, which seats a grand total of his first officer and Uhura.
Maybe Spock only does one friend at a time too. But in that case he's still short one because girlfriends don't count. Then again, Uhura's not a typical girlfriend. Not that Jim would know, seeing as how she'd managed to reject him 57 times in 3 years. Secretly he hopes she never thought too much of it; nothing like a girl who thinks you're in love when really you just want to see how many times she'll say 'no'.
"Right, Captain?" Chekov is saying, his eyes bright and smiling. Jim doesn't know why the kid always looks at him like Jim's the one who pulled him out of a free-fall into an imploding planet, but it never fails to make him smile a bit.
"What?" he asks and the ensign immediately begins replaying the conversation, something about the pick-up game they started in the rec room last night. He's using specific mannerisms for each person he quotes and Jim thinks that if Sulu weren't already in line to be his friend next, Chekov probably could be, just because he's so damn cute. Or maybe Scotty, who hasn't stopped laughing or adding in foot-notes to the rapidly-paced story. Even Bones is grinning as Chekov gesticulates wildly, obviously kind of loving the attention, so much so that he doesn't notice that Spock and Uhura have stopped on their way out to listen to him.
"So then Hikaru says we do not stand any chance and I answer that we gladly accept his challenge and will defeat him astronomically!"
Jim has to laugh because that's an awful lot to agree to, but everyone's smiling at him so of course he has no other choice.
"We surely will," he says, holding his hand out for Chekov to shake. With a quick glance over the ensign's shoulder he can see Uhura smiling like he's just done something incredibly sweet. He's not sure whether to be embarrassed or insulted, but Spock is clearly not impressed so maybe she's just got a soft spot for their resident kid-genius. He certainly doesn't, he just thinks the kid is hilariously competent at anything he does, including sports, so of course he'd agree to be on his team.
"You gonna come?" he asks Bones, who scoffs at him.
"I'll go if Spock does."
Which means Jim has to look over at Spock and raise his eyebrows invitingly enough to not seem rude, but unenthusiastically enough to make sure everyone knows he doesn't really care when Spock says 'no'.
Spock declines of course, but Uhura says she'll join them, so Jim can't help but dig a little.
"Not gonna come watch your girl play?" he says, standing and grabbing his tray.
Spock raises his eyebrows and turns to Uhura.
"Would you appreciate my presence at this sports event?" he asks and Jim can't help but roll his eyes. If that's a healthy relationship he'd rather let himself out the airlock. So maybe it's a good thing he and Spock aren't the epic friend's they're supposed to be because if he had to hang around them and their careful concern for understanding one another, he'd want to vomit all the time.
"Always shall be, my ass," he mumbles, dumping everything down the recycler and not waiting for Bones to join him before the exits the mess.
- - -
If ever there was an ideal pleasure planet, Jim thinks as soon as they've beamed down, Sigma IV is it. They'd have to give it a sexier name, of course, since its native title is unpronounceable for many species, but everything else one might want on a pleasure planet it has: lush landscape, open and luxurious architecture, succulent foods and a native people so beautiful and androgynous it is nearly impossible to tell their three genders apart.
Yup, Jim thinks as a Sigman with flowing auburn hair and violet eyes greets him warmly, he could get used to living here.
"We are very pleased to host your vessel and crew while you wait for a repair team to assist you," the Sigman says, her -- his? -- accent thick through the Universal Translator.
"I and my crew are grateful for your hospitality," Jim says, not quite able to keep the flirtatious smile from his lips. The Sigman returns the gesture, mostly with his -- her? -- eyes.
"I can only wish we could be of more assistance in regards to the repairs your ship requires."
"Oh, no, you letting us orbit your planet is assistance enough. We couldn't ask for a better place."
A soft scoff sounds from the back of the crowd that has gathered to greet the landing party and okay, maybe he was laying it on a little thick just then but that's no reason to call him out on it. The Sigman he was speaking to turns towards the noise, looking to one blonde in particular.
"Solan? Do you wish to speak?"
The blonde in question presses its lips together briefly before stepping forward. "I simply do not appreciate the false sentiment," 'Solan' says, clearly not addressing Jim. "After the Federation's initial surveillance of our planet they have paid no attention to us or our needs. Unlike our neighbors, they offer us no support because we are of no economic value to them."
Jim can feel his temper spark at the accusatory glances this second Sigman is shooting him and is about to respond, perhaps unkindly, when Spock speaks up from just behind him.
"The Federation engages in open trade with Sigma III because its people have reached warp capabilities and are in a position to benefit fully from what the Federation has to offer. Had explorers from Sigma III not landed upon your planet several decades ago the Federation would never have introduced itself to your people, in accordance with the Prime Directive."
So that was a lot nicer and calmer than anything Jim might have said, but it still smarts that Spock felt the need to answer for him. A second later, however, Jim is glad he was not the one to make a comment on behalf of the Federation. The blonde turns its accusatory glare onto Spock.
"Your Prime Directive no longer applies to us as a people. We are aware of the outside universe and have been for decades. Why have you still ignored our requests for economic and developmental stimulus assistance?" The blonde is yelling now, its graceful hands clenched into fists at its sides. Spock, Jim is sure, has a logical answer for the Sigman, but before he can comment the brunette who had initially led the welcome party steps forward and places a hand on the blonde's shoulder.
"Solan," it says gently, skimming its hand up Solan's shoulder and neck, "be calm."
And then the most awesome and fucking weird thing Jim has ever witnessed happens: they kiss. Not just a friendly or reassuring kiss either, but a full on, deep, impassioned, somewhat pornographic kiss.
And then the others start to join in. There are hands everywhere as the single kiss turns into a make-out orgy, and only when clothing starts to come off does Jim snap out of it. He turns to Spock who is watching the scene with a detached air of vague scientific interest.
Jim stares until Spock's attention is diverted to him and then he mouths an incredulous 'What the fuck??' to his first officer. Spock takes a step closer and explains in hushed tones.
"Had you read the cultural briefing Lt. Uhura prepared for you, you would know that the primary reason the people of Sigma IV have yet to reach warp capabilities is that aside from basic architectural and agricultural they use very few tools in every day life. This societal developmental delay is ascribed by many anthropologists to their natural responses to conflict: sexual relations. The people of Sigma IV do not hunt, and they do not fight. They have never experienced war."
Jim gaped for a good ten seconds before clarifying, "Because they're too busy having sex?"
"The sentiment Lt. Uhura used when explaining the phenomenon to me is: it is easy not to hate when you are too busy loving."
Jim kind of wants to laugh, hearing that come out of Spock's mouth -- it makes him wonder if Spock ever quotes him when he's not around and what that must sound like. On the other hand Jim kind of wants to cry, having to watch all these beautiful people get it on and not being able to really enjoy it because his first officer is standing right next to him and the security personnel behind them are looking highly uncomfortable.
"Perhaps we should find somewhere else to be until they have concluded their activities," Spock suggests, still leaning into Jim's personal space so as not to disturb the Sigmans. Jim nods slowly and then more vigorously as he turns his back to the scene.
"Right. Let's get out of here."
The sounds of a fucking alien orgy, oh god why is he walking away follow them through the open courtyard until they have circled the building and taken several steps into the lush forestry. Spock immediately begins scanning flora with his tricorder, while Jackson and Thorben huddle together to talk in hushed tones.
"Hell of a first away mission for you two, eh?" he calls out playfully. They both shoot him somewhat commiserating looks, which only deepen when the sounds of high-pitched moans float out to them. Spock raises one eyebrow in his direction and really, all Jim can do is laugh.
After the afternoon's encounter, dinner is an interesting affair. Jim brings down a larger party with the hopes that someone will do something to upset the Sigmans and they'll get it on again. Selfish, he knows, but he's okay with that if it means getting to watch this time.
At present he's staring at the picture Uhura makes seated between two beautiful Sigmans. He imagines what it would look like if they started kissing her right now and, as if he can read Jim's thoughts, Spock clears his throat to turn Jim's attention.
"Captain, I have overheard some of the crew speculating whether we will be spending the night on the surface and I feel inclined to remind you that we are not cleared for shore leave, despite the ship's current condition."
'Don't get any smart ideas about trying to spend the night,' is what Jim gets from that, which is disappointing but also pretty obvious.
"Thanks, Spock," Jim smiles, patronizingly. Spock merely blinks and returns to his food.
Easy for him though, Jim thinks unkindly. He gets to go home tonight and fuck his hot girlfriend.
Jim takes another sip of the excellent wine and tries to get back to the place where he doesn't care about Spock or Uhura or their healthy relationship. One of them just better fucking be on some kind of contraceptive because Jim does not need a little bundle of joy on his goddamn star ship.
Not that he cares.
"You alright?" Bones asks from his other side. "You look like you're about to throw up."
"It's nothing," Jim answers, draining his glass. "I'll be better when my ship is fixed, though."
Bones laughs. "Well no offense to your lady, but I'm looking forward to spending the night on solid ground."
Jim can feel Spock turn towards their conversation, ready with a speech about inappropriate shore leave, no doubt, and laughs.
"Me too," he says, accepting a refill of whatever he's been drinking all night as Spock leans over to tell the doctor that he will not, in fact, be spending the night covered in beautiful Sigmans.
The first signs are subtle and not unexpected from a crew that's been drinking all evening. After Jim's had to pull three different ensigns and a senior security member off of various Sigmans, though, things start to get weird. A good kind of weird, to be sure, but weird nonetheless.
The Sigmans start singing.
It's a slow song; low and seductive and varied, as if every Sigman is singing a different part and yet somehow they all manage to blend together. Jim has seen Orions dance, and while this is nothing like Gaila's body twisting and arching, it is at once exactly the same. He feels himself starting to respond, leaning toward the Sigman who had replaced Bones at some point in the evening. He -- she? -- leans in too, husking out the foreign words as her -- his? -- eyes dart down to Jim's lips.
"Captain," Spock interrupts. Jim turns his head slowly to see Spock standing there with Uhura. He has his arm around the Lieutenant, restraining her from moving toward two kissing Sigmans. Jim's attention is diverted to the scene as well until Spock steps in front of his gaze. "Jim. I am beaming up with several crew members."
"You're not staying?" Jim asks. The clear disappointment in his voice is kind of embarrassing.
"No," Spock starts, pulling Uhura back to him when she tries to get away, "no, I am not."
They stare at each other for several beats and Jim wills Spock to demand for him to return to the ship too. He won't of course, Jim being the captain and all, but Jim still wishes Spock gave a fuck. Care, he pleads silently. Care if I come home tonight. Instead Spock nods and turns, pulling Uhura along with him.
Jim stares at the space Spock has vacated until a warm hand smooths its way from his shoulder to his neck. He turns back to the Sigman, and then looks around the room. Spock is dragging several of his science ensigns away from the central table. The hall is less full than Jim remembers it being. Either Spock has been taking people home for a while now, or they've all scattered. Neither option is ideal since Jim is the captain and taking care of/keeping track of the crew is his job. Bones is nowhere in sight and Spock is dematerialize across the room and the Sigman next to him hasn't stopped its siren song. So Jim closes his eyes and pretends he doesn't care.
There are fingers in his hair and hands under his shirt. There may even be a foot inching its way up his leg, but Jim hasn't been able to tell body parts apart for awhile now.
He's been alternating between immensely pleased at finally being involved in a Sigman orgy -- even if his part is more spectator in nature, than actual participant -- and immensely depressed that he's been left on a strange planet with a bunch of strange aliens and no one seems to give a fuck.
Someone rolls on top of him and the 'fuck yeah, alien orgy!' phase has just begun to take over when Spock appears in his field of vision.
"Captain, please come with me."
"Spock," Jim grins, reaching a hand up to his first officer. "You gotta feel this. Their tongues are like... fuck," he trails off as a Sigman licks up his neck. It's kind of like being gently electrocuted, but in the best possible way, and Jim's hips push up of their own accord.
And then there are strong fingers around his out-stretched wrist. "Jim, you are needed on the ship." He sits up as Spock tugs on his arm and the Sigman rolls off him gracefully, already headed toward someone else. Jim watches her -- him? -- go sadly until Spock yanks on his arm and he's suddenly standing.
"Hey," Jim tries to protest, but his legs aren't cooperating, so instead he ends up with his face pressed to Spock's shoulder, trying not to end up back on the ground.
"Two to beam up," Spock is saying. Jim wants to ask who the captain is here, but Spock's got an arm around his waist and one of Jim's hands just happens to be pressed against his quick Vulcan heartbeat so no words are really forming for Jim right now.
Once they've materialized safely on the transporter pad Spock nods to Scotty and shifts so as to drape one of Jim's arms across his shoulders. They make their way to the turbo lift slowly, perhaps more slowly than really necessary but Jim can't be blamed for wanting to be cautious. He is apparently more drunk than he'd realized.
"Man, what was in that drink?" he asks, to prove that their crawling pace isn't uncalled for.
"I do not know, but it has certainly had an interesting effect on your Human crew members," Spock answers, and there's something in his voice that makes Jim's stomach turn. He knows it's jealousy, but he's usually so damn good at hiding it from himself and he hates that he can feel it now.
"Thanks Spock," he says pulling his arm from around Spock's shoulders. "I think I can make it from here."
Spock looks between him and the final 20 meters to his door and frowns slightly.
"Captain, I will rest easier knowing you had arrived safely in your own quarters-"
"Don't pretend that you care," Jim snaps, falling against the bulkhead as he pulls away suddenly. Spock catches him, of course, before he slides to the floor and isn't that just great.
"Jim-"
"Shut the fuck up! You don't have to fake it with me; I don't care if you don't care."
Spock's eyes narrow like Jim's not making any sense, which is entirely possible. He watches Jim for a moment before slipping the hand on Jim's shoulder up to the bare skin of his neck. Jim inhales sharply and waits for the pressure, but it doesn't come. Spock continues to watch him silently and when he's finally finished he pulls Jim's arm across his shoulders again and walks him slowly, so carefully, to his door.
Inside, Spock seats Jim on the bed, pulls off his boots and turns down the sheets. Jim's shocked and drunk enough to actually climb in -- uniform and all -- and just as Spock's about to leave, he pauses at the door.
"Jim, you are the Captain. It is your job to care."
And with that he leaves.
Jim falls asleep eventually, Spock's words and eyes and hands all he can think about.
It is not often that Jim Kirk feels the need to apologize. That's not to say there haven't been opportunities or legitimate reasons for him to apologize, he's just never really been inclined to act upon them.
This apology, though, is all he's been thinking about all day.
"Spock," he calls as soon as the half-Vulcan exits his rooms. He's been lurking in the hall for about twenty minutes now waiting for Spock to emerge, pacing and probably scaring away the two whole people who have tried to use this hall in that time.
"Captain," Spock answers, moving to stand by Jim. There were words Jim had planned to say; words that made sense and were not pathetic or un-captain-ly.
What comes out is, "You shouldn't have read my mind last night without my permission."
Spock raises an eyebrow.
"You were not being particularly articulate or rational. I had only thought to expedite the process of you making clear to me what has been bothering you for the past month." Spock doesn't sound very apologetic, but Jim will pretend that he looks at least a little sorry for invading his captain's privacy.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim assures him. He takes a step to move down the hall but Spock blocks his path.
"Then please allow me to explain."
"Spock, I don't-"
"You are operating under the misconception that this -- your captaincy -- is temporary. It is not. If you continue to tell yourself, however, that you do not care about what goes on aboard your own ship I do not predict that many will want to serve with you again in the future."
Jim stares at the half-Vulcan and tries to aim for carefully blank, just like his First Officer's own expression.
"You know for a guy who claims to not feel anything you sure seem pretty confident about my emotions."
Spock considers him for several beats. "Perhaps it is my lack of feeling that grants me the ability to sort through your own."
"Maybe," Jim agrees, still kind of at a loss for anything else to say. He's just been psycho-analyzed by his first officer in the hall between their quarters. And their shift started about five minutes ago.
"We are late," Spock says, like he's still reading Jim's mind.
He wants to tell Spock to forget the bridge and come back to his rooms with him. They could get drunk and pretend this conversation never happened.
Instead he smiles. "Well, at least we picked good people to be late with. Who's gonna get us in trouble but ourselves?"
Spock's eyes soften slightly and Jim knows for a fact that caring is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than not.
"Who indeed?" Spock answers, and for some reason Jim can't regret anything.
Chapter 2