[TWBI] Motorbike
Title: Motorbike
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,006
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Heat
"I must refuse."
Jim frowns at me and holds out the helmet further. "Come on, Spock. This is the only transportation I've got. It's paid for. It'd be illogical not to use it."
I always have a feeling he is mocking me any time he uses any variant of the word 'logic'. "It would have been logical to initially obtain a more practical vehicle."
He sighs, lowers the helmet and sits sideways on the seat of the motorbike. It is a standard model with no specializations; although, I am unsure if I would know if it does have any, as my knowledge of ground vehicles is limited. The seat is small but large enough to fit two people, if somewhat uncomfortably. I have heard him mention that he owned a motorbike before enlisting in Starfleet, though I do not know its current whereabouts.
My eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. "You rented this motorbike deliberately. You wanted to force me to ride it."
Jim just grins.
"May I ask why?"
He shrugs. "New experience?"
"No doubt the close contact this vehicle requires was a factor in your choice."
"No doubt," he nods, his smile growing wider.
"You are incorrigible."
"Come on, Spock," he says as he attempts hand me the helmet again. "It can't be because of the physical contact. You certainly weren't complaining about it last night. Or this morning, for that matter."
I stiffen slightly and glance around our location to see if anyone was in a close enough vicinity to hear his comment. I can see an older woman walking towards the rental facility give me an apprehensive look. It may be because she heard his statement or perhaps it is merely because I am Vulcan and she has xenophobic beliefs. For the first time, I hope it is the latter. Either way, I feel my face tint green.
"It's safe, trust me."
I tilt my head. "Given the way you drive a hovercar, I very much doubt it."
"I'd force this helmet on you if I didn't think I'd hurt your adorable ears."
"Adorable?"
"If you're embarrassed by my speaking about our sex life, just imagine what a scene we'd make if I'm chasing you around and wrestling this helmet on your head."
I frown slightly. "You would not be able."
His eyes light up. "Wanna bet?"
I stare at him.
No, I don't.
My shoulders fall slightly. I approach and take the helmet from his outstretched hand.
He beams at me and I try to convince myself that it does not make this worth it.
"I have conditions."
His grin slips slightly. He sighs and shifts on the seat as if he were making himself comfortable in preparation for a long lecture. "Alright, hit me."
I bring my hand up and smack the side of his head.
"Hey!" he yells and puts a hand on his head. "What did you do that for?"
I hold the helmet in both hands at the small of my back and look at him in amusement. "You requested it."
He squints at me accusingly before he smirks and grabs my hips, bringing me closer to stand between his legs. "You enjoy being purposefully obtuse, don't you?"
"Enjoyment is an emotion," I reply. Which we both know means 'yes'.
In my peripheral vision, I can see the same older woman staring reproachfully at us, yet I find that I am not quite as bothered by it this time. His hands holding my hips firmly somehow make me feel safer, though from what I do not know. His thumbs are slipped under my jacket and shirt, and I feel his affection seep through where they rub my skin.
I raise an eyebrow. "Would you like to rephrase your question?"
I can also feel his annoyance, which had only been lessened temporarily, growing.
He sighs and gives my hips a small squeeze. "What are your conditions, Mr. Spock?"
"While I am on this motorbike, you can not do any 'tricks', which includes 'wheelies' or jumps. Neither wheels of this motorbike leave the ground."
He nods approvingly, meaning he was not going to do it even if I had not said anything.
"You will not maneuver this vehicle in any way which will cause it to lean at more than a 45 degree angle."
"Alright," he concedes. "I'll take curves and corners slower."
"You may not speed excessively."
He looks at me incredulously. "Oh, come on! The speed limits are way below safety standards. Most of the time, they don't even make sense."
"I said you could not speed excessively," I clarify. "I did not say you could not speed."
He seems surprised by response. "What do you define as 'excessive'?"
I pause. "Ten over the designated limit."
"Twenty," he bargains.
"Ten."
"Fifteen."
"Ten."
He sighs and looks away. His fingers drum on my sides. "Alright fine, 10."
"I would also appreciate it if you observe traffic signals and road signs."
"I'm not going to run a red light," he snaps. "Or run through a stop sign. I'm a reckless driver, not a stupid one."
"I do not think there is a difference."
He rolls his eyes and lets me go. "Just get on the motorcycle, Spock." He straddles the bike and puts his helmet on. I slip on my own helmet (being careful of my ears) as he starts the engine, which gives off a loud din.
I hesitate before putting my leg over the bike to sit behind him. The bike vibrates underneath us. He revs the engine, startling me. I quickly put my arms around his waist. My chest is pressed up against his back, which I can feel flex through his jacket. I place my chin on his shoulder. That feeling of safety drifts back into my senses again.
As he shifts gears and the motorcycle begins to roll forward, Jim gives a little wave to the older woman outside the rental facility.
I do not look to see her expression because I do not care.
Next: Old Man
Series: That Would Be Illogical
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,006
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Summary: This is not the first illogical action I have ever participated in because of James Tiberius Kirk. I doubt it will be the last. Masterlist
Previous: Heat
"I must refuse."
Jim frowns at me and holds out the helmet further. "Come on, Spock. This is the only transportation I've got. It's paid for. It'd be illogical not to use it."
I always have a feeling he is mocking me any time he uses any variant of the word 'logic'. "It would have been logical to initially obtain a more practical vehicle."
He sighs, lowers the helmet and sits sideways on the seat of the motorbike. It is a standard model with no specializations; although, I am unsure if I would know if it does have any, as my knowledge of ground vehicles is limited. The seat is small but large enough to fit two people, if somewhat uncomfortably. I have heard him mention that he owned a motorbike before enlisting in Starfleet, though I do not know its current whereabouts.
My eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. "You rented this motorbike deliberately. You wanted to force me to ride it."
Jim just grins.
"May I ask why?"
He shrugs. "New experience?"
"No doubt the close contact this vehicle requires was a factor in your choice."
"No doubt," he nods, his smile growing wider.
"You are incorrigible."
"Come on, Spock," he says as he attempts hand me the helmet again. "It can't be because of the physical contact. You certainly weren't complaining about it last night. Or this morning, for that matter."
I stiffen slightly and glance around our location to see if anyone was in a close enough vicinity to hear his comment. I can see an older woman walking towards the rental facility give me an apprehensive look. It may be because she heard his statement or perhaps it is merely because I am Vulcan and she has xenophobic beliefs. For the first time, I hope it is the latter. Either way, I feel my face tint green.
"It's safe, trust me."
I tilt my head. "Given the way you drive a hovercar, I very much doubt it."
"I'd force this helmet on you if I didn't think I'd hurt your adorable ears."
"Adorable?"
"If you're embarrassed by my speaking about our sex life, just imagine what a scene we'd make if I'm chasing you around and wrestling this helmet on your head."
I frown slightly. "You would not be able."
His eyes light up. "Wanna bet?"
I stare at him.
No, I don't.
My shoulders fall slightly. I approach and take the helmet from his outstretched hand.
He beams at me and I try to convince myself that it does not make this worth it.
"I have conditions."
His grin slips slightly. He sighs and shifts on the seat as if he were making himself comfortable in preparation for a long lecture. "Alright, hit me."
I bring my hand up and smack the side of his head.
"Hey!" he yells and puts a hand on his head. "What did you do that for?"
I hold the helmet in both hands at the small of my back and look at him in amusement. "You requested it."
He squints at me accusingly before he smirks and grabs my hips, bringing me closer to stand between his legs. "You enjoy being purposefully obtuse, don't you?"
"Enjoyment is an emotion," I reply. Which we both know means 'yes'.
In my peripheral vision, I can see the same older woman staring reproachfully at us, yet I find that I am not quite as bothered by it this time. His hands holding my hips firmly somehow make me feel safer, though from what I do not know. His thumbs are slipped under my jacket and shirt, and I feel his affection seep through where they rub my skin.
I raise an eyebrow. "Would you like to rephrase your question?"
I can also feel his annoyance, which had only been lessened temporarily, growing.
He sighs and gives my hips a small squeeze. "What are your conditions, Mr. Spock?"
"While I am on this motorbike, you can not do any 'tricks', which includes 'wheelies' or jumps. Neither wheels of this motorbike leave the ground."
He nods approvingly, meaning he was not going to do it even if I had not said anything.
"You will not maneuver this vehicle in any way which will cause it to lean at more than a 45 degree angle."
"Alright," he concedes. "I'll take curves and corners slower."
"You may not speed excessively."
He looks at me incredulously. "Oh, come on! The speed limits are way below safety standards. Most of the time, they don't even make sense."
"I said you could not speed excessively," I clarify. "I did not say you could not speed."
He seems surprised by response. "What do you define as 'excessive'?"
I pause. "Ten over the designated limit."
"Twenty," he bargains.
"Ten."
"Fifteen."
"Ten."
He sighs and looks away. His fingers drum on my sides. "Alright fine, 10."
"I would also appreciate it if you observe traffic signals and road signs."
"I'm not going to run a red light," he snaps. "Or run through a stop sign. I'm a reckless driver, not a stupid one."
"I do not think there is a difference."
He rolls his eyes and lets me go. "Just get on the motorcycle, Spock." He straddles the bike and puts his helmet on. I slip on my own helmet (being careful of my ears) as he starts the engine, which gives off a loud din.
I hesitate before putting my leg over the bike to sit behind him. The bike vibrates underneath us. He revs the engine, startling me. I quickly put my arms around his waist. My chest is pressed up against his back, which I can feel flex through his jacket. I place my chin on his shoulder. That feeling of safety drifts back into my senses again.
As he shifts gears and the motorcycle begins to roll forward, Jim gives a little wave to the older woman outside the rental facility.
I do not look to see her expression because I do not care.
Next: Old Man