Fic: Yellow
Title: Yellow
Author: flagrantialuna
Rating: R
Words: 1763
Trope: ??? unrequited (but not really)
Genre: h/c (I think?)
Series: Reboot-alicious.
Summary: Look at the stars/ Look how they shine for you...
A/N: This was supposed to be fluff... and then I started typing...and Coldplay isn't mine.
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow
They're standing on the Observation Deck together. It's the middle of the night, not that it matters. The stars are always there anyways.
Jim's left hand is touching the cool glass, tracing out designs with the tip of his finger, but he knows the moment that Spock approaches behind him.
He glances back to look at Spock and holds out his other hand. Spock takes it with his own right hand, ghosting a Vulcan kiss up the side of his finger as he presses his chest against Jim's back.
Jim looks back out the window and gestures towards the stars.
"You see that? Right there?" Jim whispers, as though he is telling a secret.
"I am unsure what you are referring to," Spock murmurs in return.
Jim raises their connected hands and outlines a pattern between the glittering masses.
"See?" he asks.
"Yes," Spock replies. "Is there something special about that particular cluster of stars?"
Jim doesn't answer at first. Instead, he continues to trace the motif with their joined hands.
"That's the constellation they'll name after us."
"Most illogical," Spock chides. "Constellations are labeled from planets and-"
"It doesn't matter," Jim cuts in. "That one is ours."
Spock doesn't object again, but he doesn't give any sign of agreement either.
Jim bites his lip.
They've been sleeping together, but neither one of them has mentioned any feelings, and, especially in moments like these, when Jim is trying to tell Spock without actually saying that forsaken four-letter word, the tension places a barrier between them.
Jim knows he is convenient. A phase. A temporary haven for the duration of their five-year mission.
He knows that, someday, Spock will find a Vulcan woman as gorgeous as he is and they'll make beautiful, pointy-eared children together, and Jim will go off and be alone and probably die from either broken-heart syndrome or alcohol poisoning.
But today is not that day, and Jim will take what he can get.
He sighs and leans back against Spock's shoulder. He turns his body slightly to nuzzle his nose against Spock's neck, letting his eyes drift shut.
Please, he prays to whatever higher being may be out there, let that day be slow to come.
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called 'Yellow'
Spock is too focused on the lytherette to notice when Nyota walks in for their scheduled practice time.
The music is bizarre compared to the music the Vulcan usually plays, switching from fast and adventurous to sad and sweet, but it is beautiful in its own strange way.
Nyota decides not to interrupt and instead elects to stand by until the piece dies away.
"Interesting," Nyota comments. "New piece for us?"
Spock turns around swiftly and is visibly shocked for a moment before he gathers himself.
"I did not hear you arrive," he says quietly, deliberately choosing not to answer her question.
The corners of her mouth turn up.
"You must have been lost in your music," she responds as she gestures towards the lytherette. "Who wrote it?"
Spock doesn't know how to answer the question.
He'd been warming up and thinking about the night before with Jim, the depression he could feel buzzing beneath the surface of Jim's skin, and, his fingers, they'd just started... moving.
He realizes that the silence has lasted too long when Nyota breaks it, asking, "Is something wrong?"
Spock is hesitant. "I seem to have a dilemma."
"Well?" she asks. "What is it?"
"I would not want to make you uncomfor-"
"Then it must be about your relationship with Jim," she interrupts.
Spock tries to control the rush of blood determined to get to his cheeks.
"Spock," she admonishes with a grin. "Our break-up last year was mutual, and, even then, I told you that we would still be friends, and you could come to me with anything.
"So, tell me." She puts a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow. "What's the problem?"
"How..." Spock's words are slow and cautious. "How can you tell someone that you care?
"And how can you tell if he cares as well?"
So then I took my time
Oh what a thing to've done
And it was all yellow
After mission upon mission, James T. Kirk has become masterful in his element.
They are currently in the middle of diplomatic talks with an alien nation debating the benefits and drawbacks to joining the Federation.
He refuses to candy coat anything, accurately describing the autonomy and protection they will be granted under UFP without denying the reality that martial law is possible, though not probable, under emergency circumstances.
His honest, straight-forward nature has made far more friends than enemies in situations like these, and, thus, Captain Kirk manages to represent not only himself, but the Federation as a whole, as a defender of peace and scientific progress throughout the galaxy.
However, it is only when the day ends, when they've beamed back aboard the ship, and he sees the look of approval in Spock's eye, that Jim truly knows he's done well.
Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D'you know? You know I love you so
You know I love you so
Spock's fingers glide along Jim's sides, listening to the whispers of his skin, taking each secret and turning each one into undeniable pleasure.
He skims the place just above Jim's hip and feels the sudden static of desire tingle up through his arm.
Pressing his lips to Jim's, he allows one hand to trail up once again until it reaches Jim's cheek.
When he feels the nails in his back, the impulse to penetrate that one final barrier is overwhelming. He lets his fingers trace Jim's temple, debating the invasion for a moment.
Spock imagines what Jim's mind must feel like: pure and yellow, as bright as the sun in the mid-day sky. He knows that all it would take is a little push... but he mustn't. Without permission, such a violation would be comparable to rape.
So, to avoid temptation, he moves his fingers the short distance to sink his digits into Jim's sweat-soaked hair.
When Spock presses a kiss to the side of Jim's neck, he is baffled by the lingering sadness buzzing beneath his lips; but he cannot dig into Jim's mind any deeper.
To do so would be an unforgivable breach of privacy.
I swam across
I jumped across for you
Oh what a thing to do
'Cause you were all yellow
Their sweat-slicked skin slides together silently.
Every movement is slow and measured.
It's nothing like Jim has ever experienced.
He is split in half, impaled, but, somehow, he feels more complete than ever.
It's perfect.
He keeps telling himself not to get used to this, trying to record every moment, every feeling, so he will retain the comfort of the memory even after Spock is long gone, but he can't manage to keep focused.
Spock's lips ghost across his own, and Jim spreads his legs further, digging his nails into Spock's back, trying to keep Spock within him forever.
His eyes slide shut without permission as Spock consistently presses that hidden place within him.
The pleasure has been so slow in building that Jim doesn't feel the climax until it is almost upon him.
It starts with a tingling in the soles of his feet and spreads up through him until every muscle in his body is on the precipice. When he finally tips over the edge, there is a spasm, as his entire world contracts to a single point of light and then explodes into oblivion.
He has come apart beneath Spock's skilled hands, and he can't help but wonder if he will be able to recover when Spock has left.
I drew a line
I drew a line for you
Oh what a thing to do
And it was all yellow
It takes a week, but Spock finally decides to cross that invisible line.
"You have been in emotional distress." It is not a question.
Jim, who has been focused on the chess board, looks up.
"What?" Jim's brow furrows.
"I said that you have been in emotional distress," Spock repeats.
"I don't know what you're talking about." His face is a mask of polite confusion, but Spock isn't fooled.
Spock reaches out and brushes his the tips of his fingers across the back of Jim's hand.
Jim's breath hitches audibly.
"I am a touch telepath, Jim," Spock says clearly. "I can feel your sadness beneath my fingers."
Jim jerks his hand away. He blinks rapidly, and his eyes dart toward the door as if searching for an escape.
Spock's hand is left dangling, a broken thread in the wind. He slowly lets it fall to the table.
"I did not mean to intrude." The words are slow and careful. "I just wanted you to know that I..."
Jim finally meets Spock's eyes.
The silence says all the words that they cannot.
Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D'you know? For you I bleed myself dry
For you I bleed myself dry
Jim is holding Spock's hand.
He hates this stupid job sometimes. Spock didn't even get off the damn ship, and now he's just lying there, pale and unmoving.
It's strange, but, in situations like these, the beeping of the machine next to the biobed seems comforting rather than annoying. As long as the machine is beeping, it means Jim doesn't have to keep checking Spock's pulse to make sure he is still breathing. Nonetheless, Jim lets his other hand drift up and rest across Spock's heart, so he can feel the soft drumming beneath his palm.
When Spock's eyes first flutter open, Jim is there to greet Spock with a smile and a quiet "Welcome back."
Spock's hand trembles as he reaches up to brush Jim's cheek with his fingers.
"I would never go far."
The quiet, raspy statement and the soft look in Spock's eyes causes Jim's breath hitch.
Jim normally hates figurative language, but, in this case, it feels true: Spock holds Jim's heart in that limp, quaking hand and all Jim can do is hope that Spock won't clench his fist and turn his heart into a bloody, irreparable mess.
It's true
Look how they shine for you
They're standing on the Observation Deck again.
Jim's left hand is touching the cool glass, as he stares in child-like glee at the galaxies beyond them.
He glances back to look at Spock and holds out his other hand. Spock takes the offering and twines their fingers together, taking his rightful place at Jim's side.
Jim presses their interlocked hands against the glass as he looks back out the window with wonder in his eyes.
"Isn't it perfect?" he says, in awe of the vastness of space before him.
"Yes," Spock responds.
Unlike Jim, Spock is not looking out the window.
"Yes, it is."
He is looking at their connected hands.
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do
Author: flagrantialuna
Rating: R
Words: 1763
Trope: ??? unrequited (but not really)
Genre: h/c (I think?)
Series: Reboot-alicious.
Summary: Look at the stars/ Look how they shine for you...
A/N: This was supposed to be fluff... and then I started typing...and Coldplay isn't mine.
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And everything you do
Yeah, they were all yellow
They're standing on the Observation Deck together. It's the middle of the night, not that it matters. The stars are always there anyways.
Jim's left hand is touching the cool glass, tracing out designs with the tip of his finger, but he knows the moment that Spock approaches behind him.
He glances back to look at Spock and holds out his other hand. Spock takes it with his own right hand, ghosting a Vulcan kiss up the side of his finger as he presses his chest against Jim's back.
Jim looks back out the window and gestures towards the stars.
"You see that? Right there?" Jim whispers, as though he is telling a secret.
"I am unsure what you are referring to," Spock murmurs in return.
Jim raises their connected hands and outlines a pattern between the glittering masses.
"See?" he asks.
"Yes," Spock replies. "Is there something special about that particular cluster of stars?"
Jim doesn't answer at first. Instead, he continues to trace the motif with their joined hands.
"That's the constellation they'll name after us."
"Most illogical," Spock chides. "Constellations are labeled from planets and-"
"It doesn't matter," Jim cuts in. "That one is ours."
Spock doesn't object again, but he doesn't give any sign of agreement either.
Jim bites his lip.
They've been sleeping together, but neither one of them has mentioned any feelings, and, especially in moments like these, when Jim is trying to tell Spock without actually saying that forsaken four-letter word, the tension places a barrier between them.
Jim knows he is convenient. A phase. A temporary haven for the duration of their five-year mission.
He knows that, someday, Spock will find a Vulcan woman as gorgeous as he is and they'll make beautiful, pointy-eared children together, and Jim will go off and be alone and probably die from either broken-heart syndrome or alcohol poisoning.
But today is not that day, and Jim will take what he can get.
He sighs and leans back against Spock's shoulder. He turns his body slightly to nuzzle his nose against Spock's neck, letting his eyes drift shut.
Please, he prays to whatever higher being may be out there, let that day be slow to come.
I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called 'Yellow'
Spock is too focused on the lytherette to notice when Nyota walks in for their scheduled practice time.
The music is bizarre compared to the music the Vulcan usually plays, switching from fast and adventurous to sad and sweet, but it is beautiful in its own strange way.
Nyota decides not to interrupt and instead elects to stand by until the piece dies away.
"Interesting," Nyota comments. "New piece for us?"
Spock turns around swiftly and is visibly shocked for a moment before he gathers himself.
"I did not hear you arrive," he says quietly, deliberately choosing not to answer her question.
The corners of her mouth turn up.
"You must have been lost in your music," she responds as she gestures towards the lytherette. "Who wrote it?"
Spock doesn't know how to answer the question.
He'd been warming up and thinking about the night before with Jim, the depression he could feel buzzing beneath the surface of Jim's skin, and, his fingers, they'd just started... moving.
He realizes that the silence has lasted too long when Nyota breaks it, asking, "Is something wrong?"
Spock is hesitant. "I seem to have a dilemma."
"Well?" she asks. "What is it?"
"I would not want to make you uncomfor-"
"Then it must be about your relationship with Jim," she interrupts.
Spock tries to control the rush of blood determined to get to his cheeks.
"Spock," she admonishes with a grin. "Our break-up last year was mutual, and, even then, I told you that we would still be friends, and you could come to me with anything.
"So, tell me." She puts a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow. "What's the problem?"
"How..." Spock's words are slow and cautious. "How can you tell someone that you care?
"And how can you tell if he cares as well?"
So then I took my time
Oh what a thing to've done
And it was all yellow
After mission upon mission, James T. Kirk has become masterful in his element.
They are currently in the middle of diplomatic talks with an alien nation debating the benefits and drawbacks to joining the Federation.
He refuses to candy coat anything, accurately describing the autonomy and protection they will be granted under UFP without denying the reality that martial law is possible, though not probable, under emergency circumstances.
His honest, straight-forward nature has made far more friends than enemies in situations like these, and, thus, Captain Kirk manages to represent not only himself, but the Federation as a whole, as a defender of peace and scientific progress throughout the galaxy.
However, it is only when the day ends, when they've beamed back aboard the ship, and he sees the look of approval in Spock's eye, that Jim truly knows he's done well.
Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D'you know? You know I love you so
You know I love you so
Spock's fingers glide along Jim's sides, listening to the whispers of his skin, taking each secret and turning each one into undeniable pleasure.
He skims the place just above Jim's hip and feels the sudden static of desire tingle up through his arm.
Pressing his lips to Jim's, he allows one hand to trail up once again until it reaches Jim's cheek.
When he feels the nails in his back, the impulse to penetrate that one final barrier is overwhelming. He lets his fingers trace Jim's temple, debating the invasion for a moment.
Spock imagines what Jim's mind must feel like: pure and yellow, as bright as the sun in the mid-day sky. He knows that all it would take is a little push... but he mustn't. Without permission, such a violation would be comparable to rape.
So, to avoid temptation, he moves his fingers the short distance to sink his digits into Jim's sweat-soaked hair.
When Spock presses a kiss to the side of Jim's neck, he is baffled by the lingering sadness buzzing beneath his lips; but he cannot dig into Jim's mind any deeper.
To do so would be an unforgivable breach of privacy.
I swam across
I jumped across for you
Oh what a thing to do
'Cause you were all yellow
Their sweat-slicked skin slides together silently.
Every movement is slow and measured.
It's nothing like Jim has ever experienced.
He is split in half, impaled, but, somehow, he feels more complete than ever.
It's perfect.
He keeps telling himself not to get used to this, trying to record every moment, every feeling, so he will retain the comfort of the memory even after Spock is long gone, but he can't manage to keep focused.
Spock's lips ghost across his own, and Jim spreads his legs further, digging his nails into Spock's back, trying to keep Spock within him forever.
His eyes slide shut without permission as Spock consistently presses that hidden place within him.
The pleasure has been so slow in building that Jim doesn't feel the climax until it is almost upon him.
It starts with a tingling in the soles of his feet and spreads up through him until every muscle in his body is on the precipice. When he finally tips over the edge, there is a spasm, as his entire world contracts to a single point of light and then explodes into oblivion.
He has come apart beneath Spock's skilled hands, and he can't help but wonder if he will be able to recover when Spock has left.
I drew a line
I drew a line for you
Oh what a thing to do
And it was all yellow
It takes a week, but Spock finally decides to cross that invisible line.
"You have been in emotional distress." It is not a question.
Jim, who has been focused on the chess board, looks up.
"What?" Jim's brow furrows.
"I said that you have been in emotional distress," Spock repeats.
"I don't know what you're talking about." His face is a mask of polite confusion, but Spock isn't fooled.
Spock reaches out and brushes his the tips of his fingers across the back of Jim's hand.
Jim's breath hitches audibly.
"I am a touch telepath, Jim," Spock says clearly. "I can feel your sadness beneath my fingers."
Jim jerks his hand away. He blinks rapidly, and his eyes dart toward the door as if searching for an escape.
Spock's hand is left dangling, a broken thread in the wind. He slowly lets it fall to the table.
"I did not mean to intrude." The words are slow and careful. "I just wanted you to know that I..."
Jim finally meets Spock's eyes.
The silence says all the words that they cannot.
Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D'you know? For you I bleed myself dry
For you I bleed myself dry
Jim is holding Spock's hand.
He hates this stupid job sometimes. Spock didn't even get off the damn ship, and now he's just lying there, pale and unmoving.
It's strange, but, in situations like these, the beeping of the machine next to the biobed seems comforting rather than annoying. As long as the machine is beeping, it means Jim doesn't have to keep checking Spock's pulse to make sure he is still breathing. Nonetheless, Jim lets his other hand drift up and rest across Spock's heart, so he can feel the soft drumming beneath his palm.
When Spock's eyes first flutter open, Jim is there to greet Spock with a smile and a quiet "Welcome back."
Spock's hand trembles as he reaches up to brush Jim's cheek with his fingers.
"I would never go far."
The quiet, raspy statement and the soft look in Spock's eyes causes Jim's breath hitch.
Jim normally hates figurative language, but, in this case, it feels true: Spock holds Jim's heart in that limp, quaking hand and all Jim can do is hope that Spock won't clench his fist and turn his heart into a bloody, irreparable mess.
It's true
Look how they shine for you
They're standing on the Observation Deck again.
Jim's left hand is touching the cool glass, as he stares in child-like glee at the galaxies beyond them.
He glances back to look at Spock and holds out his other hand. Spock takes the offering and twines their fingers together, taking his rightful place at Jim's side.
Jim presses their interlocked hands against the glass as he looks back out the window with wonder in his eyes.
"Isn't it perfect?" he says, in awe of the vastness of space before him.
"Yes," Spock responds.
Unlike Jim, Spock is not looking out the window.
"Yes, it is."
He is looking at their connected hands.
Look at the stars
Look how they shine for you
And all the things that you do