Fic: On this Winter's Night | STXI | PG | K/S Advent
Title: On This Winter's Night
Author: Jademac2442
Beta: 1lostone
Series: STXI
Rating: PG
Length: 3114 words
Warnings: None
Summary: K/S Advent fic. Spock rescues Kirk from a bar fight, and walks him home. Flirting ensues.
This is a Christmas pressie for 1lostone. Unfortunately she had to beta her own present, but hey, she seemed to like it when she didn't know it was for her.
Spock strolled slowly and aimlessly across the quad. He was not normally given to wandering, but he was restless this evening and thought a walk would settle him. He lacked companionship, and its absence was cold in his breast; he had found since leaving Vulcan that intelligent conversation was a rare and valuable commodity. If he were given to such emotional thinking, he would have felt embarrassed at feeling so dependent on company. As it was, he simply felt apart.
Starfleet Academy was dismissed for the winter holidays, and the vast majority of the cadets and staff had departed for their various homes. The campus was nearly silent, lacking its usual, ubiquitous noise. It made the area feel empty. Spock supposed that most humans would despise the emptiness. He, on the other hand, thought that the Academy grounds were most aesthetically pleasing at this time of the year. The fresh fall of snow covered every imperfection with a layer of white that added to the serenity of the subdued community. It was, however, unusually cold for a San Francisco winter, and this was not a factor Spock could bring himself to appreciate. He wondered what his parents were doing in the comfort of their desert home. He did not miss them; such emotion was alien to his Vulcan-trained mind. He was, however, aware of their absence and wondered about their wellbeing. His mother, who was irrationally fond of this time of year, would perhaps be planning her celebrations and decorations. His father, Spock had not doubt, would as always observe indulgently, if uncomprehendingly.
Sarek had claimed that he married Amanda because it was logical. Spock never doubted the veracity of that statement. Yet, surely, marrying a member of a different species and then going through the tremendous difficulty of hybrid reproduction did not seem logical to Spock. It was illogical to take an extremely difficult path when less arduous options would suffice. Perhaps it was that Sarek had not wished a relationship that would simply...suffice.
Spock did not wish one either.
But here his logical mind encountered a flaw--- Would it not be more rational to obtain a relationship based on mutually beneficial goals and career plans?
He was so lost in this dilemma that he paid little attention to the direction in which he was walking. His feet, accustomed to long walks in this direction from many trips to a nearby vegetarian cafe which served a few passable Vulcan dishes, had been drawling him closer to the downtown area and away from the pristine solemnity of the silent campus. Spock noted the change and allowed it, curious to see whether the peaceful stillness extended into the surrounding city, or if it absented itself at the campus gates.
He found the city much as he had imagined it; quieter than usual, but considerably more populated than the campus grounds. Spock wondered if the absence of the usual human occupants was due to the cold or the upcoming holiday. It was ironic; thinking about the cold made Spock more aware of the cold.
Spock knew of an establishment approximately 103 meters down the road where he could warm himself before returning to campus. As it made its business purveying alcohol, it would surely be open for this holiday, which caused so many humans such consternation. As he neared the bar, he could hear the sounds of an altercation.
There appeared to be a small crowd in front of the bar. Spock drew forward, using his superior height and body mass to improve his position. A uniformed cadet was involved in a fight with several of the establishment’s patrons. Spock was curious, despite himself. It was not often that a cadet risked such an infraction, as getting arrested whilst in uniform was considered a severe offense.
Spock’s first instinct was to allow the cadet to deal with the situation on his own, but that resolve faded as he watched the altercation unfold. The cadet was likely not the aggressor in this fight. At least, Spock did not think so. The blonde cadet was, after all, squaring off against three other humans, all of whom were significantly larger than he. It brought to mind memories of a time when Spock had been much younger, confronted by three assailants of his own.
This cadet was handling the melee somewhat differently than Spock had handled his. For one thing, the red suited figure was not focusing solely on the physical situation, but taunting his opponents with a ferocity that matched his fighting style. Spock was impressed despite himself. The cadet had thus far used seven Federation languages, two of them quite well, in order to make several suggestions that Spock suspected were not only morally questionable but also anatomically impossible for any species known to Federation science. The blonde certainly had an active imagination.
Indeed, this was another point of interest for Spock. Ferocity was not the only common attribute between the insults and the cadet’s fighting. His capacity for spontaneous invention was clear to Spock in the blonde’s every movement. He stepped with a deliberate grace and with total commitment, allowing his hips to lead each twist. He fought without any apparent strategy, sometimes striking out in three directions at once. As Spock watched, he sidestepped a haymaker and caught the heavyset man who threw it a knee strike to the groin. He then grabbed the wincing fellow by the collar and struck him in his nose with his forehead. His mind apparently occupied with eliminating one-third of the threat, he did not glance at the other two approaching attackers. This mistake should have cost the blonde his life but instead afforded him the opportunity to surprise them by crouching as he turned, his eyes still on their injured comrade, and dragging his falling, bleeding visage around to land heavily before their feet.
Spock realized that he was wrong about the cadet’s strategy. It was subtle, but now that he knew what to watch for, he could anticipate it. When the tallest of the attackers caught a handful of red fabric, he alone of the crowd expected the boy to slip out of the garment and wrap it over his opponent’s eyes. Still, none of the blows he dealt were serious enough to keep these burly men on the ground. While his seemingly random movements led to his opponents missing his head and naked torso more often than not, the unequal numbers were starting to take their toll. The cadet’s responses were slowing.
An uppercut to the jaw from the heavyset man with the broken nose sent the cadet reeling back into the brick wall of the bar, and although he contrived to kick one of the assailants hard in the knee as the other two got hold of his arms, the subsequent blow to his solar plexus clearly knocked the fight out of him. Gasping, he fell limply onto to the pavement. The tall man followed him down and pinned his arms, and the heavy man pulled back his booted foot. Spock had seen enough. He could not allow the fight to continue. He stepped up behind the heavy man and allowed his fingers to settle in the nerves below the human’s ear.
The large man’s collapse was enough of a distraction for the remaining two attackers that the cadet managed to twist wildly and catch the tall one a lucky elbow to the chin, which sent him reeling into unconsciousness. The third man, limping and furious, made it halfway through a bigoted remark about green blood before the cadet sweeped his legs out from under him and pushed hard on his chest. His head bounced twice on the cement before coming to rest.
Spock was surprised at this showing of tenacity. Watching the departing crowd carefully, he lifted his eyebrow as the panting cadet turned to face him.
Spock was confronted by a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Surely that color did not exist in nature.
“Thanks,” said the cadet, wheezing. He was doubled over at the waist, trying to catch his breath. Spock could smell the alcohol on the cadet’s breath even from three feet of distance.
Spock nodded at him. “You are welcome.”
“Jim Kirk,” the cadet said, picking up his bloodied tunic and grunting as he pulled it on.
“Spock,” the Vulcan replied. The younger man, Mr. Kirk, did not meet his eyes, but nodded as he continued to pant at the pavement.
“I’d shake your hand,” the injured man went on, “but I know Vulcans aren’t into casual kissing.” Spock was surprised. Most humans either did not know, or did not care about his people’s taboo on touching hands. The human’s voice was steady despite the slight slurring susurration that indicated the amount of alcohol he must have consumed prior to the fight.
“Indeed, we are not. Are you in need of medical attention, Mr. Kirk?” The human had not yet released his grip on his own oblique muscles. There was a significant possibility that the cadet had injured his ribs during the altercation.
“Nah. ’m fine, man. Just wanna get home.” Kirk swayed slightly as he as he righted himself, his posture belying his agony.
“You are injured,” Spock said. “Is there anyone that can come for you?”
“Nah, like I said, man, I’m cool.” Spock did not understand the cadet’s resistance to help. There were bruises beginning to form on the cadet’s face: one high on his left cheekbone and another lower on the right side. Despite the contusions, however, Spock noticed that Kirk’s features were remarkably symmetrical, and he found them most aestheticlly pleasing. Perhaps he should recruit another’s help in controlling the cadet’s behavior. He doubted that the other patrons inside would be willing to assist.
“Is your roommate on campus at this time?” Spock tried again.
“No. Bones is in Georgia, visiting his mom and his aunt and his little girl. He’ll be back at New Year’s though. ‘S cool. I’ll be fine.” The cadet fell quiet, and took a deep, shuddering breath. He winced and clutched his ribs tighter.
Spock raised his eyebrow again. “You should not walk alone. I will escort you.” The cadet was injured, inebriated, and in no condition to being going anywhere on his own.
“Nah, ‘m good. Just want to go to bed.” Kirk staggered away a few steps away from Spock, obviously intent on making it back to campus on his own, but then he stopped and looked over his shoulder at Spock. “Unless you wanna come with me?”
Spock blinked at the other man, shocked. The cadet couldn’t possibly mean.... Could he?
Kirk winked at him, and resumed his awkward stumble back toward the Academy. Spock followed him. He had no desire to see any harm come to Kirk, and he was not sure that Kirk would be capable of making it to his dwellings on his own.
Spock caught up to Kirk in only a few steps and allowed himself to pace the human. Kirk grinned at him, somewhat lecherously. “So, how is it you didn’t go home to Vulcan for the break?” Kirk asked.
“I am currently conducting several experiments which require consistent supervision.” Spock elected not to tell the human more about his strained relations with his father.
Kirk nodded. “That’s cool, man, whatcha workin’ on?” Despite the slurring of Kirk’s words, the human seemed genuinely interested, so Spock proceeded to explain his work on unified field theory to the cadet, who was not only NOT mystified by what Spock was explaining, but who understood enough about the nature of the theory to suggest several changes for the next round of Spock’s experiments.
Spock noticed though, that Kirk’s feet were faltering more often than they had been just outside the bar. Kirk’s speech was also slurring with a greater consistency than it had before. He further noticed that the cadet’s face was a good deal pinker than it had been even minutes earlier. Clearly, the walk, the cold, the fight, and the liquor were ‘catching up’ to the cadet.
Spock took a step nearer the cadet, so that he would be able to catch Kirk if he fell. “Why have you not returned home for the break, Mr. Kirk?” Spock asked.
“It’s Jim. Call me Jim,” Kirk said. Spock noticed that Kirk was making no attempt to answer his question.
“Very well, Jim. Why have you not returned home for your vacation?”
Kirk laughed a little under his breath as he looked at Spock. The sound was quickly aborted as Kirk registered the pain it caused his ribs. Spock found he missed the sound as soon as it was interrupted. “Maybe I wanted to stay here with you?”
“That is illogical. You did not know me prior to this evening, and therefore could not wish to stay with me.”
“Joke, Spock, joke,” Kirk said, and he smiled. Spock found his breath momentarily caught in his throat.
Their eyes met for a moment and neither man spoke, as they paused in their walk. Kirk’s hand slowly raised to touch the side of Spock’s face with one finger, tracing the side of his jaw. Spock was puzzled; he knew that humans had no tactile introspection, and could not think of why the man would touch him this way. Nevertheless, Kirk took a half-step closer to Spock.
But then somewhere behind Spock a branch broke, and Kirk jumped, and the moment was broken.
Kirk blushed. Spock found that he...appreciated... the sight.
“Perhaps we should continue...Jim,” Spock stated.
Kirk’s mouth turned up a little at the corners and he bit his bottom lip. “Perhaps.”
As they continued making their way towards campus, Spock found that he had never stepped away from Kirk after Jim touched his face. This made it easy, the next time Kirk tripped, to catch him. Kirk beamed at him.
Spock had some difficulty in looking away.
Kirk swung an arm over Spock’s neck, and Spock likewise wrapped an arm around Kirk’s waist to help keep the cadet upright. Spock decided to repeat the question he’d asked earlier about why Kirk was still on campus.
Kirk laughed. “Geez, you’re like a dog with a bone, or something.” He struggled a few more steps, and then eventually said, “I just hate this time of year.”
He didn’t immediately offer more.
Spock waited. He had been raised Vulcan. He could outwait any human.
Eventually, Kirk continued, “It’s just...it’s never been...good, ya’ know? You always hear about it being all...for family...and it always just...it sucks. I figure it’s better to be...to stay alone, than to be...disappointed...again.”
The last statement was so soft, that if Spock were not Vulcan, he would not have heard it.
“So my family has their little Christmas traditions,” he finished, “and I have mine. I usually just get spanking drunk, prank call my stepfather, and sleep through the whole damn thing.”
Spock nodded. He had heard Kirk’s name before, of course, and knew the family’s story, but the reality that went with the sacrifice was not one upon which Spock had reflected before that moment. It must have been lonely.
Spock was spared any more introspection on the subject when Kirk squawked, “What are we doing here?”
“I live here,” Spock replied.
“I don’t. This is officer’s country.” Kirk tried and failed to separate himself from Spock’s grip.
“Yes,” Spock said. Kirk struggled harder, but Spock did not release his grip. He could feel the cadet’s strength flagging as his struggles grew less and less emphatic.
“Jim. You are safe. You have a possible concussion, and may have cracked or broken ribs. You should not be alone. As no one could pick you up, and as there was no one with whom you wanted to stay, I brought you to my quarters. Your presence will not be an imposition.”
Kirk seemed about to protest again, so Spock merely tightened his grip and continued through the entry.
He sat Kirk carefully down on the sofa in his living room. He pretended not to notice the cadet’s surreptitious examination of the room as he retrieved a medical tricorder with which to scan Kirk.
Kirk was strangely quiet as Spock scanned him. The cadet had allowed his head to slump against the back of the couch, and if it were not for the constant motion of his eyes, then Spock would have thought that he had passed out.
“The tricorder revealed several bruises and two cracked ribs, but no serious breaks,” Spock told Kirk. “You are, however, more significantly inebriated than I had thought given your level of functionality.”
“Really? Thanks.” Kirk replied.
“If you will allow me, I will remove your shirt and tape your ribs so that they do not shift during the night.”
Kirk smirked at him. “If you wanted me to take my clothes off, all you had to do was ask, Spock.” He slowly stripped off his uniform shirt, though the speed was likely more a function of his injured midsection than of lust, but still Spock did not mind the display.
Spock looked down at Kirk’s abdomen. Despite the bruising, Kirk was quite the paragon of the human form. He was well-muscled but lean, much lighter than a Vulcan but still deceptively compact for how easy it had been to support him on the walk from the bar. Spock decided he had had enough of their verbal sparring for the evening. He was tired.
“Indeed, I would like you to take you to take your clothes off, Jim.” Kirk’s eyes opened wider. “I believe that I would like nothing more. However, as you are currently inebriated, I will wait for such a time as I may procure your full consent. Now, if you will allow me to treat your ribs.”
He had shocked the cadet, he knew. Kirk’s mouth was hanging open, and Kirk made no movements as Spock deftly taped his ribs and administered a hypo containing a mild sedative and painkiller. When he was finished, he removed the cadet’s boots and gently manipulated Kirk to lay prone on the couch.
“You will get some sleep. If you are still here in morning, then, perhaps, we shall see what the day brings.”
Kirk’s eyes were still wide open as he stared at Spock, and nodded. Spock covered him with an afghan and tucked him in.
“Perhaps this may be one Christmas you do not have to spend alone,” Spock said, as he traced one finger down Kirk’s face, and then departed for his room.
Author: Jademac2442
Beta: 1lostone
Series: STXI
Rating: PG
Length: 3114 words
Warnings: None
Summary: K/S Advent fic. Spock rescues Kirk from a bar fight, and walks him home. Flirting ensues.
This is a Christmas pressie for 1lostone. Unfortunately she had to beta her own present, but hey, she seemed to like it when she didn't know it was for her.
Spock strolled slowly and aimlessly across the quad. He was not normally given to wandering, but he was restless this evening and thought a walk would settle him. He lacked companionship, and its absence was cold in his breast; he had found since leaving Vulcan that intelligent conversation was a rare and valuable commodity. If he were given to such emotional thinking, he would have felt embarrassed at feeling so dependent on company. As it was, he simply felt apart.
Starfleet Academy was dismissed for the winter holidays, and the vast majority of the cadets and staff had departed for their various homes. The campus was nearly silent, lacking its usual, ubiquitous noise. It made the area feel empty. Spock supposed that most humans would despise the emptiness. He, on the other hand, thought that the Academy grounds were most aesthetically pleasing at this time of the year. The fresh fall of snow covered every imperfection with a layer of white that added to the serenity of the subdued community. It was, however, unusually cold for a San Francisco winter, and this was not a factor Spock could bring himself to appreciate. He wondered what his parents were doing in the comfort of their desert home. He did not miss them; such emotion was alien to his Vulcan-trained mind. He was, however, aware of their absence and wondered about their wellbeing. His mother, who was irrationally fond of this time of year, would perhaps be planning her celebrations and decorations. His father, Spock had not doubt, would as always observe indulgently, if uncomprehendingly.
Sarek had claimed that he married Amanda because it was logical. Spock never doubted the veracity of that statement. Yet, surely, marrying a member of a different species and then going through the tremendous difficulty of hybrid reproduction did not seem logical to Spock. It was illogical to take an extremely difficult path when less arduous options would suffice. Perhaps it was that Sarek had not wished a relationship that would simply...suffice.
Spock did not wish one either.
But here his logical mind encountered a flaw--- Would it not be more rational to obtain a relationship based on mutually beneficial goals and career plans?
He was so lost in this dilemma that he paid little attention to the direction in which he was walking. His feet, accustomed to long walks in this direction from many trips to a nearby vegetarian cafe which served a few passable Vulcan dishes, had been drawling him closer to the downtown area and away from the pristine solemnity of the silent campus. Spock noted the change and allowed it, curious to see whether the peaceful stillness extended into the surrounding city, or if it absented itself at the campus gates.
He found the city much as he had imagined it; quieter than usual, but considerably more populated than the campus grounds. Spock wondered if the absence of the usual human occupants was due to the cold or the upcoming holiday. It was ironic; thinking about the cold made Spock more aware of the cold.
Spock knew of an establishment approximately 103 meters down the road where he could warm himself before returning to campus. As it made its business purveying alcohol, it would surely be open for this holiday, which caused so many humans such consternation. As he neared the bar, he could hear the sounds of an altercation.
There appeared to be a small crowd in front of the bar. Spock drew forward, using his superior height and body mass to improve his position. A uniformed cadet was involved in a fight with several of the establishment’s patrons. Spock was curious, despite himself. It was not often that a cadet risked such an infraction, as getting arrested whilst in uniform was considered a severe offense.
Spock’s first instinct was to allow the cadet to deal with the situation on his own, but that resolve faded as he watched the altercation unfold. The cadet was likely not the aggressor in this fight. At least, Spock did not think so. The blonde cadet was, after all, squaring off against three other humans, all of whom were significantly larger than he. It brought to mind memories of a time when Spock had been much younger, confronted by three assailants of his own.
This cadet was handling the melee somewhat differently than Spock had handled his. For one thing, the red suited figure was not focusing solely on the physical situation, but taunting his opponents with a ferocity that matched his fighting style. Spock was impressed despite himself. The cadet had thus far used seven Federation languages, two of them quite well, in order to make several suggestions that Spock suspected were not only morally questionable but also anatomically impossible for any species known to Federation science. The blonde certainly had an active imagination.
Indeed, this was another point of interest for Spock. Ferocity was not the only common attribute between the insults and the cadet’s fighting. His capacity for spontaneous invention was clear to Spock in the blonde’s every movement. He stepped with a deliberate grace and with total commitment, allowing his hips to lead each twist. He fought without any apparent strategy, sometimes striking out in three directions at once. As Spock watched, he sidestepped a haymaker and caught the heavyset man who threw it a knee strike to the groin. He then grabbed the wincing fellow by the collar and struck him in his nose with his forehead. His mind apparently occupied with eliminating one-third of the threat, he did not glance at the other two approaching attackers. This mistake should have cost the blonde his life but instead afforded him the opportunity to surprise them by crouching as he turned, his eyes still on their injured comrade, and dragging his falling, bleeding visage around to land heavily before their feet.
Spock realized that he was wrong about the cadet’s strategy. It was subtle, but now that he knew what to watch for, he could anticipate it. When the tallest of the attackers caught a handful of red fabric, he alone of the crowd expected the boy to slip out of the garment and wrap it over his opponent’s eyes. Still, none of the blows he dealt were serious enough to keep these burly men on the ground. While his seemingly random movements led to his opponents missing his head and naked torso more often than not, the unequal numbers were starting to take their toll. The cadet’s responses were slowing.
An uppercut to the jaw from the heavyset man with the broken nose sent the cadet reeling back into the brick wall of the bar, and although he contrived to kick one of the assailants hard in the knee as the other two got hold of his arms, the subsequent blow to his solar plexus clearly knocked the fight out of him. Gasping, he fell limply onto to the pavement. The tall man followed him down and pinned his arms, and the heavy man pulled back his booted foot. Spock had seen enough. He could not allow the fight to continue. He stepped up behind the heavy man and allowed his fingers to settle in the nerves below the human’s ear.
The large man’s collapse was enough of a distraction for the remaining two attackers that the cadet managed to twist wildly and catch the tall one a lucky elbow to the chin, which sent him reeling into unconsciousness. The third man, limping and furious, made it halfway through a bigoted remark about green blood before the cadet sweeped his legs out from under him and pushed hard on his chest. His head bounced twice on the cement before coming to rest.
Spock was surprised at this showing of tenacity. Watching the departing crowd carefully, he lifted his eyebrow as the panting cadet turned to face him.
Spock was confronted by a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Surely that color did not exist in nature.
“Thanks,” said the cadet, wheezing. He was doubled over at the waist, trying to catch his breath. Spock could smell the alcohol on the cadet’s breath even from three feet of distance.
Spock nodded at him. “You are welcome.”
“Jim Kirk,” the cadet said, picking up his bloodied tunic and grunting as he pulled it on.
“Spock,” the Vulcan replied. The younger man, Mr. Kirk, did not meet his eyes, but nodded as he continued to pant at the pavement.
“I’d shake your hand,” the injured man went on, “but I know Vulcans aren’t into casual kissing.” Spock was surprised. Most humans either did not know, or did not care about his people’s taboo on touching hands. The human’s voice was steady despite the slight slurring susurration that indicated the amount of alcohol he must have consumed prior to the fight.
“Indeed, we are not. Are you in need of medical attention, Mr. Kirk?” The human had not yet released his grip on his own oblique muscles. There was a significant possibility that the cadet had injured his ribs during the altercation.
“Nah. ’m fine, man. Just wanna get home.” Kirk swayed slightly as he as he righted himself, his posture belying his agony.
“You are injured,” Spock said. “Is there anyone that can come for you?”
“Nah, like I said, man, I’m cool.” Spock did not understand the cadet’s resistance to help. There were bruises beginning to form on the cadet’s face: one high on his left cheekbone and another lower on the right side. Despite the contusions, however, Spock noticed that Kirk’s features were remarkably symmetrical, and he found them most aestheticlly pleasing. Perhaps he should recruit another’s help in controlling the cadet’s behavior. He doubted that the other patrons inside would be willing to assist.
“Is your roommate on campus at this time?” Spock tried again.
“No. Bones is in Georgia, visiting his mom and his aunt and his little girl. He’ll be back at New Year’s though. ‘S cool. I’ll be fine.” The cadet fell quiet, and took a deep, shuddering breath. He winced and clutched his ribs tighter.
Spock raised his eyebrow again. “You should not walk alone. I will escort you.” The cadet was injured, inebriated, and in no condition to being going anywhere on his own.
“Nah, ‘m good. Just want to go to bed.” Kirk staggered away a few steps away from Spock, obviously intent on making it back to campus on his own, but then he stopped and looked over his shoulder at Spock. “Unless you wanna come with me?”
Spock blinked at the other man, shocked. The cadet couldn’t possibly mean.... Could he?
Kirk winked at him, and resumed his awkward stumble back toward the Academy. Spock followed him. He had no desire to see any harm come to Kirk, and he was not sure that Kirk would be capable of making it to his dwellings on his own.
Spock caught up to Kirk in only a few steps and allowed himself to pace the human. Kirk grinned at him, somewhat lecherously. “So, how is it you didn’t go home to Vulcan for the break?” Kirk asked.
“I am currently conducting several experiments which require consistent supervision.” Spock elected not to tell the human more about his strained relations with his father.
Kirk nodded. “That’s cool, man, whatcha workin’ on?” Despite the slurring of Kirk’s words, the human seemed genuinely interested, so Spock proceeded to explain his work on unified field theory to the cadet, who was not only NOT mystified by what Spock was explaining, but who understood enough about the nature of the theory to suggest several changes for the next round of Spock’s experiments.
Spock noticed though, that Kirk’s feet were faltering more often than they had been just outside the bar. Kirk’s speech was also slurring with a greater consistency than it had before. He further noticed that the cadet’s face was a good deal pinker than it had been even minutes earlier. Clearly, the walk, the cold, the fight, and the liquor were ‘catching up’ to the cadet.
Spock took a step nearer the cadet, so that he would be able to catch Kirk if he fell. “Why have you not returned home for the break, Mr. Kirk?” Spock asked.
“It’s Jim. Call me Jim,” Kirk said. Spock noticed that Kirk was making no attempt to answer his question.
“Very well, Jim. Why have you not returned home for your vacation?”
Kirk laughed a little under his breath as he looked at Spock. The sound was quickly aborted as Kirk registered the pain it caused his ribs. Spock found he missed the sound as soon as it was interrupted. “Maybe I wanted to stay here with you?”
“That is illogical. You did not know me prior to this evening, and therefore could not wish to stay with me.”
“Joke, Spock, joke,” Kirk said, and he smiled. Spock found his breath momentarily caught in his throat.
Their eyes met for a moment and neither man spoke, as they paused in their walk. Kirk’s hand slowly raised to touch the side of Spock’s face with one finger, tracing the side of his jaw. Spock was puzzled; he knew that humans had no tactile introspection, and could not think of why the man would touch him this way. Nevertheless, Kirk took a half-step closer to Spock.
But then somewhere behind Spock a branch broke, and Kirk jumped, and the moment was broken.
Kirk blushed. Spock found that he...appreciated... the sight.
“Perhaps we should continue...Jim,” Spock stated.
Kirk’s mouth turned up a little at the corners and he bit his bottom lip. “Perhaps.”
As they continued making their way towards campus, Spock found that he had never stepped away from Kirk after Jim touched his face. This made it easy, the next time Kirk tripped, to catch him. Kirk beamed at him.
Spock had some difficulty in looking away.
Kirk swung an arm over Spock’s neck, and Spock likewise wrapped an arm around Kirk’s waist to help keep the cadet upright. Spock decided to repeat the question he’d asked earlier about why Kirk was still on campus.
Kirk laughed. “Geez, you’re like a dog with a bone, or something.” He struggled a few more steps, and then eventually said, “I just hate this time of year.”
He didn’t immediately offer more.
Spock waited. He had been raised Vulcan. He could outwait any human.
Eventually, Kirk continued, “It’s just...it’s never been...good, ya’ know? You always hear about it being all...for family...and it always just...it sucks. I figure it’s better to be...to stay alone, than to be...disappointed...again.”
The last statement was so soft, that if Spock were not Vulcan, he would not have heard it.
“So my family has their little Christmas traditions,” he finished, “and I have mine. I usually just get spanking drunk, prank call my stepfather, and sleep through the whole damn thing.”
Spock nodded. He had heard Kirk’s name before, of course, and knew the family’s story, but the reality that went with the sacrifice was not one upon which Spock had reflected before that moment. It must have been lonely.
Spock was spared any more introspection on the subject when Kirk squawked, “What are we doing here?”
“I live here,” Spock replied.
“I don’t. This is officer’s country.” Kirk tried and failed to separate himself from Spock’s grip.
“Yes,” Spock said. Kirk struggled harder, but Spock did not release his grip. He could feel the cadet’s strength flagging as his struggles grew less and less emphatic.
“Jim. You are safe. You have a possible concussion, and may have cracked or broken ribs. You should not be alone. As no one could pick you up, and as there was no one with whom you wanted to stay, I brought you to my quarters. Your presence will not be an imposition.”
Kirk seemed about to protest again, so Spock merely tightened his grip and continued through the entry.
He sat Kirk carefully down on the sofa in his living room. He pretended not to notice the cadet’s surreptitious examination of the room as he retrieved a medical tricorder with which to scan Kirk.
Kirk was strangely quiet as Spock scanned him. The cadet had allowed his head to slump against the back of the couch, and if it were not for the constant motion of his eyes, then Spock would have thought that he had passed out.
“The tricorder revealed several bruises and two cracked ribs, but no serious breaks,” Spock told Kirk. “You are, however, more significantly inebriated than I had thought given your level of functionality.”
“Really? Thanks.” Kirk replied.
“If you will allow me, I will remove your shirt and tape your ribs so that they do not shift during the night.”
Kirk smirked at him. “If you wanted me to take my clothes off, all you had to do was ask, Spock.” He slowly stripped off his uniform shirt, though the speed was likely more a function of his injured midsection than of lust, but still Spock did not mind the display.
Spock looked down at Kirk’s abdomen. Despite the bruising, Kirk was quite the paragon of the human form. He was well-muscled but lean, much lighter than a Vulcan but still deceptively compact for how easy it had been to support him on the walk from the bar. Spock decided he had had enough of their verbal sparring for the evening. He was tired.
“Indeed, I would like you to take you to take your clothes off, Jim.” Kirk’s eyes opened wider. “I believe that I would like nothing more. However, as you are currently inebriated, I will wait for such a time as I may procure your full consent. Now, if you will allow me to treat your ribs.”
He had shocked the cadet, he knew. Kirk’s mouth was hanging open, and Kirk made no movements as Spock deftly taped his ribs and administered a hypo containing a mild sedative and painkiller. When he was finished, he removed the cadet’s boots and gently manipulated Kirk to lay prone on the couch.
“You will get some sleep. If you are still here in morning, then, perhaps, we shall see what the day brings.”
Kirk’s eyes were still wide open as he stared at Spock, and nodded. Spock covered him with an afghan and tucked him in.
“Perhaps this may be one Christmas you do not have to spend alone,” Spock said, as he traced one finger down Kirk’s face, and then departed for his room.