The De-Aged Story That Wasn’t | STXI | PG-13
Title: The De-Aged Story That Wasn’t
Series: STXI
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~5,200
Warnings: Unbeta’ed, so the many mistakes are mine!
Summary: Spock hallucinates that Jim has been de-aged to five years old and responds accordingly.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N 1: So, my fabulous friend makowe_pola requested this fic quite some time ago. And as she has injured her poor arm and can’t even draw to entertain herself, I hope this will distract her for a time. Thank you for all the fanart you’ve made for me darling, I hope my drabble can return the favour, if just a little.
Under different circumstances, sitting on Spock’s lap would have been a dream come true. Unfortunately for Jim, the triumph had been diluted - a lot.
Jim sighed and shifted his ass on Spock’s warm lap; long, strong hands reached out to steady him. He huffed and stared out the view-screen to the stars.
Chekov received a glower for sneaking an amused look over his shoulder.
Spock shifted in the captain’s seat. “Your allotted bridge time has concluded, Jim.” He used a far gentler tone than he ever had before.
The cause of that was very obviously because Spock didn’t often hallucinate that Jim was five years old. Hell, he didn’t even refer to Jim by his first name on a normal basis. Now Spock suffered the effects of some unknown flower pollen and he was perfectly fine in every aspect - except, of course, that he thought Jim was five. Five, for fuck’s sake!
It really took the kick out of cuddling up on Spock’s lap. Everyone was sneaking looks and bottling up their laughter - in fact, Ensign Kyle had started giggling uncontrollably not fifteen minutes ago. Spock had given him the patented die in a fire look and that had shut him up.
Spock probably assumed that Kyle was laughing at the absurdity of the situation - when in reality he was really just laughing at Jim. Period.
“Are you troubled, Jim?” Spock asked quietly in his ear.
Jim sent Spock a woeful look and their faces were far too close for comfort. Hell, his ass was far too close to Spock’s dick for comfort.
“I’m fine. I guess this means I have to go?”
“Indeed. Children are not permitted on the bridge, but as you are in the custody of an acting captain, I have acquiesced to a minor leeway.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Jim nearly cried with joy when Bones swept on to the bridge with a scowl.
“For Christ’s sake, Spock, stop babying him.”
Spock stiffened and lightly guided Jim from his lap. “I am not. I was merely fulfilling my care shift, nothing more.”
Jim stared awkwardly between Bones and Spock and suddenly felt like the child of divorced parents. Parents who wanted to phaser each other in the face.
Bones rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well maybe we wouldn’t need shifts if you realised Jim isn’t a toddler.”
Silence on the bridge as everyone held the collective breath.
Spock blinked. “I apologise, Doctor. Of what were you speaking?”
There was a communal inward groan as the crew minutely slumped in their seats. How long until this debacle ended?
Bones shook his head. “Come on, Jim.”
Jim headed for Bones - but feeling kind of guilty that he’d been sulking the entire shift, peered over his shoulder and sent Spock a small wave. “Thanks, Mr. Spock.”
Spock’s ears may have coloured a bit as he nodded. “I will sojourn with you at seventeen-hundred hours.”
“Okay.”
Jim wondered for the hundredth time why Spock was being so attentive to Little Jim. He inwardly shrugged and followed Bones.
***
“It is time for repose, Jim.”
“What? It’s only -”
No, there was no use in arguing. Really - Jim had tried. Apparently, it was bed at twenty-hundred hours every night. Jim was pretty sure he’d had enough sleep in the past week to equate with hibernation. He couldn’t even sneak out of bed once Spock left because their rooms were adjoined, and Spock insisted on keeping the door open.
“Can’t I just stay up a little longer?” Jim pleaded, hoping that Spock saw him as an adorable little kid with big teary eyes.
Spock actually seemed to struggle for a moment before he shook his head. “You require rest, Jim. Now, let us dress you for bed.”
“Ah...” Jim hedged. This was always one of the most awkward parts of his day. Spock had insisted he help the apparent five-year old with dressing and undressing. Keeping a clear state of mind while Spock’s hands were stripping him of his shirt was maddening and near-impossible. “I’ll just dress myself.”
Spock considered Jim and the stubborn set of his jaw. He nodded. “If you require aid, please alert me.”
Jim breathed a sigh of relief. “Right. Sure.”
***
“James Kirk, I request that you descend from that tree immediately,” Spock called up tersely.
“Nah,” Jim replied and grinned.
Their mission was to gauge the planet Dzidzri’s capacity for colonisation. And damn, was it ever perfect.
Much to Jim’s earlier dismay, he’d been required to remain on board until Spock had deemed the planet-side suitable for a child to run around. Bones was still fretting over the pollen levels in Spock’s blood stream, but their last test reported a seventeen percent decrease of the hallucinogen in Spock’s system.
In short, the effects would soon wear off.
With that in mind and the weight of worry off his chest, Jim decided he would embrace being a kid again. He’d never had much of a childhood to begin with anyway.
So he began his second childhood by scaling the largest, most warped tree he could find.
Jim swung his legs off a thick branch and grinned brightly down at Spock - who was standing with his hands on his hips.
“This is not a safe recreational activity,” Spock informed him evenly. He was a bit tense around the eyes. “You will listen to logic and return to the ground, as per my orders.”
“Make me,” Jim sing-songed, kicking his feet. He noted Bones in the distance with a couple members of the scouting party. The doctor shook his head at the scene and Jim waved merrily.
The leaves of the tree shivered and the wood groaned quietly. Jim snapped his attention downward and realised that Spock was weaving his way up with his usual poise and precision. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the concentration in Spock’s expression.
“You joining me, Commander?”
“I am.”
With a quiet breath, Spock settled closely beside Jim. When he didn’t try to make Jim climb down right away, he had to inspect Spock with some surprise. Spock placed a steadying hand around Jim’s waist to keep him from tipping back, and anything Jim had been about to say evaporated.
The gesture was logical and yet it filled Jim’s chest with unexpected warmth. Spock was always thoughtful in his own methodical way, but this... this was just him being kind to a little kid who wanted to climb a tree. No parent or carer of Jim’s had ever really encouraged his adventurous side - or anything at all, really.
Why Spock was being so lenient with Jim still remained a mystery. Spock was usually a no-exceptions kind of guy.
Regardless, Jim was going to capitalise on this until he couldn’t. He snuggled closer to Spock, who tightened his hold protectively.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Jim?”
Spock had never asked him that before. Those hallucinogens must have been pretty strong.
“Yep. Moreso now that you’re here.”
Spock nodded silently. “Had there been trees on my planet, I believe I would have taken pleasure in climbing them. I was fond of heights and physical activity as a child.”
Wow. And the fountain of Spock continued to flow.
Jim smiled to himself and looked out over the golden ridges of grass that blew in the wind like waves. “That doesn’t seem like a very logical pursuit.”
Spock flicked a look towards Jim. “No. It is not,” he replied simply.
Something curled uncomfortably in Jim’s stomach. Spock had never opened up to Jim so readily - and Jim supposed he still hadn’t, as his First was currently under the misconception that his captain was a little kid. Even so, this was a new level in their relationship and Jim just wasn’t used to being... that guy. The guy people confided in.
Jim frowned at Spock. “Not that I’m not enjoying you here or anything - but don’t you have work to do? Canvassing with your man-purse and whatnot.”
Spock quirked an eyebrow. “It is a tricorder. And yes, I have duties to attend to. But one of them involves monitoring you.”
“Ah. Well, how long can we stay up here?” Jim asked, looking down as he picked at a piece of bark.
“As long as you wish.”
They remained silent for a very long time. The sols were glowing bright and low in the horizon by the time Jim spoke quietly, his throat dry.
“Hey, Spock?”
“Yes?”
“It’s nice hanging out like this.”
Spock’s fingers lightly squeezed Jim’s arm. “I also enjoy your company, Jim.”
As a kid, Jim added inwardly.
***
In the ten months Jim had been Captain, he’d only gotten to sit and look at the stars from the observation deck twice. So when Jim realised he had far too much time on his hands to pursue his own interests - not by his own preference, mind, because he’d love to be Captain again - Jim had known what to do.
Spock hadn’t argued at all. In fact, he’d relented quite calmly to every wish Jim had announced, no matter how fickle or foolish. Jim really thought Spock would say no to a piggy-back ride - he’d only asked as a joke, after all. But before he knew it, Spock had knelt and requested Jim ‘alight with care’.
Really - what the hell?
Of course, Jim wasn’t complaining. Every day that he and Spock spent their evenings together he was learning some new about the previously mysterious Vulcan.
Even stranger than that - Jim was genuinely adding these memories to his own long-past childhood.
His had never been a great one. No one had watched the stars with him but for Sam before he’d run away. Jim had climbed trees alone and invented up his imaginary solitary games, and quite quickly learned to entertain himself without a dependence upon others. That probably explained why Jim was easily amused as an adult.
The point was, Jim cherished these moments with Spock. Sure, there was a large chunk of him that was frustrated with the situation and wished that the lingering twenty-three percent of pollen would flush out of Spock’s system now. But all the same, Jim was actually kind of weirdly happy. He was watching the stars with his friend, after all.
“Are we friends like this when I’m Captain?” Jim asked, already knowing the answer.
Spock went still beside him. “No.”
“Why?” He really wanted to know why.
“We have many duties to attend to,” Spock replied after a time. “There is much to be done on a Starship and your adult self is... busy. There is little time for fraternisation.”
“That sounds sad. I’m sure my grown-up self would like to spend time with you if you gave him the chance.”
“I do not believe so.”
Jim cocked his head. “Why?”
“I acted in a reprehensible manner towards my Captain in the past,” Spock admitted quietly, his voice steady. “I do not believe any logical person would wish to be my friend after what I have done.”
Fury flared within Jim and left his cheeks hot. He glowered at Spock’s profile, dismissing the stars that flew past them. “Does your captain seem like a logical person to you?”
At that, Spock turned and met Jim’s eyes. For a moment there was a flash of something unidentifiable. His lips twitched. “Rarely.”
“So,” Jim continued sharply. “Let’s be friends. We’ll stick together. Now and later.”
“I...” Spock’s gaze edged away. “I wish it were that easy.”
“It is. Look.” Jim held out his palm and spat in it, then held it out to a vaguely horrified Spock. “Spit and shake on it. Friends.”
Spock stared with wide doe-eyes, between the spittle-hand and Jim’s face. He swallowed. Jim waited, his eyes hard and impatient.
And then he did it. Spock actually spat in his own hand and shook Jim’s.
“Friends,” Spock murmured.
Jim thought his face might break from the smile that burst through. “Yeah. Friends.”
***
And then, being five years old got really freaking old.
***
“No, Jim. This holovid is not suitable for children. Perhaps you would prefer to watch a documentary on fruit bats.”
***
“No, Jim. I will not lengthen your sleeping arrangements. You are an age in which you require sufficient rest for the day.”
***
“Eat your vegetables, Jim. Yes, all of them.”
***
“Doctor McCoy, you dare give alcohol to a child? You will be written up and the board notified of this act of indecency and utter disregard for the health of a child. I find myself appalled with your conduct. Jim, come with me.”
***
“Vulcans do not paint, Jim.”
“Well then, as you’re only half-Vulcan you won’t need to worry about it.”
“You are rather logical for a five year-old Human.”
Jim sighed and mumbled, “That’s because I’m not five, fuck’s sake.”
According to Bones, Spock should be back to normal any day now. And although everyone kept their telling remarks to themselves most of the time, Jim was growing impatient. He wanted to be Captain again, dammit.
He nearly got his hopes up when Spock aimed a considering look Jim’s way. Their eyes held and for a moment those dark depths flickered - and then nothing.
Jim inwardly sighed and returned to the little pots of paint before them. He knew time was running short and now he was basically going crazy with pushing Spock into things he would never normally do. Jim must be one adorable five year-old for all the shit Spock was so patiently putting up with.
“You draw a picture for me and I’ll draw you one,” Jim ordered and dipped his finger into a random pot of colour - purple.
Spock remained silent beside him - staring at the blank canvas of paper before him as if it was the most difficult challenge he’d ever faced.
Destroying Nero? No problem. Drawing shit? Worst ever.
Jim put on a winning smile and kicked Spock beneath the table. “Please - for me? I want something you've made before -” before this all ends and we’re back to what we were. “I just want something,” Jim finished lamely.
Dark eyes dropped and when they returned to Jim’s expectant expression, Spock’s face was clear. “As you wish, Jim.”
Jim grinned at his small victory and returned to his work, happy to catch from the corner of his eye Spock tentatively placing one pale fingertip into orange.
Let it be known that Jim was not artistic in the slightest. This was more a test of his limits with Spock than anything. Jim’s picture was smears and stick figures and unrealistic proportions - but hell, he was kind of having fun. How he ended up with all of his fingers coated with drying paint of every colour, he didn’t know.
But it was nice to look up every now and then to see Spock’s blue-black, shining hair bent towards Jim’s in silent concentration. Every stroke of Spock’s fingers was purposeful, as with everything else he did. Jim smiled at the top of Spock’s head.
Before Jim could talk himself out of it, he reached out and smeared his fingers down Spock’s bangs.
Spock snapped back, and his hands reached for his hair but didn’t touch. Jim choked out a laugh at the four stripes of blue, yellow, pink, and purple streaking through Spock’s once-pristine bangs.
“Um -” Jim managed through a fit of suffocating giggles. “Accident.”
Jim had expected reprimands or Spock dashing to the bathroom to clean himself off - he hadn’t anticipated a hand coated in fresh yellow paint to plop wetly on Jim’s cheek and smear down his jaw and chin.
Spock stared at Jim, expressionless but for his eyes dancing with a completely foreign laughter. “I apologise, Jim. Under your apparent definition of an accident, that was also one.”
“Why you...” Jim hiccuped with a laugh and stumbled up from his seat.
He dashed around the table with a small pot of green in his hand - and even though Spock was quick enough to dodge the initial throw, the container knocked his shoulder and splattered across Spock’s cheek and ear.
Jim didn’t even have time to cheer in victory before a pot of purple was dumped over his head and dribbled along the back of his neck.
Jim shrieked with laughter as the cold paint tickled down his spine. He hastily shucked off his shirt and chucked it at Spock’s face. Jim rubbed the back of his neck and came up with fingers full of purple. He met Spock’s eyes with a predatory gleam and stalked towards him with his hand up.
“Oh, Mr. Spock. I am not the person to start a war with. I thought you’d learned that I never lose.”
Spock flicked a brow, which was spattered in green. “To be clear, it was you who instigated this battle. Additionally, I also plan on succeeding.”
Jim’s smile widened but he remained silent and advancing. His breath stopped and his heart jumped in the fleeting moment in which he faked out Spock and made a rush for him.
With a hoot of glee, Jim grabbed at Spock’s nape with his paint-slopped hand. When Spock made to jerk away, Jim simply wrapped both arms around Spock’s neck and tossed his head back in a guffaw. For a brief moment Jim was lifted entirely off his toes.
Then Spock’s paint-slick fingers grasped wetly at Jim’s bare hips and their eyes locked with humour and happiness - and they froze.
No - in fact, Spock did the opposite. His eyes snapped wide for a second and as quickly as he was there, he was shooting out the door without another word. The reaction was so sharp and so powerful that it had Jim stumbling back, alone; his hand reaching up to quiet his clattering heart.
For a long moment Jim simply stared at the floor, unblinking and huffing with unsteady breath. He looked down at his torso. Long, delicate imprints of green, purple and yellow marked Jim as Spock’s possession.
Jim tentatively laid his own hands atop the imprints, his fingertips lightly tracing where Spock had just been.
Shit.
Slowly, as if he were older than his years, Jim approached the table at which they’d been working. He moved to Spock’s side and delicately picked up the large sheet of paper.
His eyes lingering on the sheet, Jim said aloud, “Computer - McCoy, Sickbay.”
A few moments later and Bones’ voice grunted through the comm. “What’s up Jim? ...Jim - you there?”
Jim stared at the strong, sweeping strokes of blazing orange and dusty gold - and the sphere that once was Vulcan. Stars in a very illogical shade of purple were tiny, smeared dots in almost-perfect scientific proportion. And the largest star in the distance - the one that shown brightest among them all - was the placement of Earth.
“God dammit, Jim - are you there or not?”
Jim nodded, although he couldn’t be seen. He spoke softly. “Hey Bones?”
“What?”
“I think Spock remembers now. You might want to check on him.”
Jim didn’t hear the reply.
Spock had drawn him Vulcan and included Earth, too. He had drawn Jim home.
***
“He’s been avoiding me,” Jim said plaintively as he dropped in a seat across from Uhura in the cafeteria.
She looked up from her soup with an arched eyebrow. “Of course he is. He’s mortified.”
“I don’t see why.” Jim shoved a hunk of baked potato in his mouth. “It wasn’t his fault.”
Uhura pressed her lips together, her lashes lowering in thought. She spoke carefully. “Vulcans are prideful creatures, Kirk. This is the equivalent of throwing a cat in a bathtub. They grow indignant and annoyed and would prefer nothing to do with you for a period of time.”
Jim ignored the pang in his chest. “Yeah, except where he’s not a cat and actually my First Officer - and therefore needs to interact with me on, like, a daily basis.”
Uhura cocked her head, dark eyes searching Jim’s face. “Give him some time, Kirk.”
They ate in silence for a while before Jim grumbled, “How long would you say equates as ‘some time’?”
Uhura stared blandly at Jim. “Not yet.”
“Okay... Now?”
“Oh, hell - go after him and get out of my hair,” Uhura said with a roll of her eyes.
“Thanks for the advice,” Jim replied cheerfully and jumped from his seat. He was on a mission.
***
“You forgot your picture.”
Jim stood at the threshold of Spock’s room, staring up into those unnervingly dark eyes. Spock was totally unreadable.
“Thank you.” He plucked the sheet of paper from Jim’s fingers, but didn’t look down at it. His gaze did not falter from Jim’s face.
“Well, are you gonna look at it?” Jim demanded, his cheeks heating.
Spock blinked once and looked down. Jim refused to fidget. He peered along the corridor for anyone who might be peering in on the moment, but the halls were dead.
For a long moment Jim feared he would be turned away. That would be it - chance of friendship over before it had truly began. No hope of... of anything more. Whatever ‘more’ meant. Jim wouldn’t linger on it.
But his tongue felt heavy and his legs were jittery, and he couldn’t stop searching Spock’s expression for a reaction.
All he got was, “What are those lumps?”
Jim frowned. “What lumps?”
Spock pointed, his head lowered. Jim leaned forward to inspect the picture upside down. It was both of them, in some kind of mutilated stick-figure form. Stick-Jim had a big smile and Stick-Spock was frowning with a big cloud over his head. In the corner was a crude rendition of the Enterprise in the sky. Their home.
“Those are my muscles, obviously.”
“Your... muscles.”
“Yes. I have them, you know. Bigger than even in that picture.”
“Why am I wearing purple?” Still, there was no inflection in Spock’s voice.
He shrugged. “I thought you needed a little colour in your life.”
“Blue is a colour.”
“And a very good one on you, too. Still - purple? Very good on you.”
Spock looked up, his large eyes quiet. They made Jim nervous. He was rarely apprehensive - not even when Romulans were trying to kill him. But standing here before Spock with this stupid picture he’d drawn between them, waiting for something - yeah, this was terrifying.
“Spock?” he murmured.
“Why are you here, Captain?” Spock asked firmly.
“I - well.” Jim’s brow furrowed. “Can I come in?”
Spock appeared to hesitate, before he nodded and took a step back in assent. Jim swept past, into the sweltering room. He ran a hand through his hair and faced Spock’s bed rather than the man himself.
“I’m not going to apologise for anything, all right? Nothing that happened was your fault or mine. I had to go with it because I had no choice - and yeah.” Jim whirled around and held Spock’s gaze. “I took advantage of your... regard - whatever - for the child version of me. It was nice. I liked being friends with you. I liked how you were with me when you didn’t really think it was me. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that.”
“Is that what you assume?” Spock inquired with a slight incline to his chin.
“What else is there to think?” Jim snapped, unsure why he was upset all of a sudden.
“I never equated your younger self with a different version of you, Jim. I was fully aware that whatever memories you created with me as a child might persevere through your transformation to adulthood.”
Jim blinked. “Oh. So - why then?”
A wrinkle appeared and disappeared on Spock’s brow. “What is your inquiry?”
“Why were you so nice to me? You basically let me walk all over you.”
Spock didn’t reply; he walked towards his desk and set the drawing down carefully, his fingertips lingering at the corner before he faced Jim.
“I had wished for you to come away with pleasant memories of your second childhood. It was logical to make your experience a positive one.”
Jim narrowed his eyes. “Okay,” he said slowly, unsure of his footing. “But why? You could have handed me off to Bones or a child-carer, but you didn’t. You, well...”
At Spock’s blank look, Jim shrugged, agitation tightening his features. Under the circumstances, there was only so far he would push. His childhood was not something he relived and it was certainly not something he voluntarily brought up. But he couldn’t let this go - because for a few weeks it had truly felt as if Spock had liked him.
And Jim hadn’t realised how much that mattered to him until now.
“Look,” Jim began pacing across Spock’s path. “You don’t do anything without an agenda. I don’t mean that negatively, it’s just a fact. Everything you do, Spock, has a purpose. Taking me on the bridge when it’s against regulations? Setting aside your work to spend time with me, the piggy-back ride, the finger painting - what were you really hoping to get out of it? I honestly can’t figure it the fuck out and it’s been driving me insane.”
“Captain.”
Jim halted. “What?”
Spock cocked his head. “Would it be so unusual to imagine that I had hoped to give you a piece of the satisfying childhood that you did not have?”
“You - what,” Jim stuttered. “How did you -”
“I have read your file, Captain,” Spock said in his obviously kind of way. “Perhaps I have made the incorrect conclusion, but I had thought that you -”
Jim held up a silencing hand. White noise was threatening to deafen him and his heart climbed dangerously close to his throat. “You wanted to make me happy?”
“Yes.”
“Because I had a crappy childhood. You wanted to make memories and shit with me.” Jim wasn’t sure he could actually fathom the amount of thought Spock had put into this.
Spock blinked. “Is that unusual?”
“Yes - I mean, no. I mean -” Jim frowned and took a step towards Spock. “You were trying to make things right for what happened... before, weren’t you? I mean, in some way.”
Lips parted and Spock took a soft breath. He nodded. “In a fashion.”
Jim scowled and cuffed Spock’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Idiot. You think I’d carry that kind of bullshit around with me? What’s done is done and now it’s just you and me, right here. We’re friends, remember? We spat on it.”
Spock’s countenance relaxed and the corner of his mouth curved faintly. “It would be difficult to forget such an event.”
“Good. Now -” Jim wandered towards the desk and stared down at the picture he’d drawn. He turned to see Spock surveying him silently, eyes patient.
Jim cleared his throat and flicked his gaze to the floor, leaning back against the edge of the desk. “About that day. I mean... when did you snap back to normal, exactly?”
A shadow fell over Spock’s face and he shook his head. “The particular moment is unclear. The entire time in which we were... engaging in recreation,” Spock decided, the tips of his ears darkening. “Felt as if it had been you as you are now. But I can only recall at the time assuming that it was your younger self until you... embraced me.”
Spock’s fingertips curled against his thighs. “I apologise, Captain. The memory is rather ambiguous.”
“It’s okay,” Jim assured him hastily and pushed off the desk to come to Spock. “I just wanted to know if...”
“Speak your mind, Captain.”
“Jim, please.”
Spock’s gaze flickered down. “Jim.”
Jim blurted out, “I guess I just wanted to know if it was me turning into the, uh, regular me that you didn’t like. That made you run.”
At Spock’s noticeable hesitation, Jim smiled and moved to rush past Spock. Putting himself out there wasn’t exactly under Jim’s list of skills. “Never mind - I’ll see you la -”
“Jim.”
Jim halted and turned, his brow furrowed. “What?”
Spock was some feet away from him. His own mouth was pulled in a bemused frown - and yet he still didn’t speak.
Jim took a step back in retreat.
This isn’t some cruddy rom-com, he reminded himself. People didn’t always know the right way to say things - or how to ever say things. If this... this relationship was left to idle like it was, the possibility would always remain that nothing would come of it.
And then Jim remembered - he didn’t do idle. He did full speed off a cliff.
“I have a question,” Jim said, shifting gears and approaching Spock once more.
Spock’s posture went rigid, his speech curt. “I welcome it.”
One corner of Jim’s lips pulled up unconsciously. “Do you? Good.” He paused inches before Spock - could feel the familiar heat radiating off of him.
Jim wet his lips slowly. He looked down at Spock’s chest and reached forward to idly pick off an invisible speck of lint. “About the paint war...”
Spock’s voice was husky. He may have imperceptibly leaned in to Jim’s space. “Yes?”
Their gazes snagged and stuck; Spock’s eyelids looked heavy, his pupils swollen and intent on Jim.
Jim sucked in a breath and jumped.
“As gross and unromantic and moment-breaking as this is - I totally never wanted to bathe again after your grubby rainbow handprints had been on me.”
Spock blinked rapidly and Jim breathed a light laugh, shrugging. “I mean, it doesn’t mean everything, but that’s gotta mean something - right?”
It means a lot, Spock. Do you see how much it means? Fuck.
Spock faintly shook his head. “Jim, I -”
“Spock,” Jim snapped, growing impatient. He didn’t do Disney scenes or whatever the hell this was.
Jaw set with determination, Jim firmly cupped the nape of Spock’s neck in the way he had so many days before. He anchored his gaze on Spock and gave that hot neck a little squeeze.
“Do you or do you not want my hands on you the way I want your hands on me? Are you going to take me - messy and fucked up and impatient and really horn -”
Spock’s warm, moist mouth engulfing Jim’s was all the answer he required. Jim went hard and pliant all at once against the lean press of Spock’s body, throwing himself into the kiss with the same enthusiasm that he approached everything. When slender fingers burrowed into the delicate flesh of Jim’s hips, he ignored his own pathetic whimper around Spock’s velvety tongue.
Jim hadn’t a clue how long they branded each other with lips and teeth and fingertips - but when Spock reluctantly pulled away, Jim could only stare up at him with flushed cheeks and huffing breath.
Spock peered down at Jim with sleepy, hooded eyes. His voice was hoarse. “Of course I take you, Jim. We spat on it.”
“We -” Jim boggled up at Spock before a beaming smile threatened to break his face. “Yeah. Yeah - we spat on it. Now you’re stuck with me.”
Spock’s nose brushed Jim’s as he murmured, “Now and later.”
Series: STXI
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~5,200
Warnings: Unbeta’ed, so the many mistakes are mine!
Summary: Spock hallucinates that Jim has been de-aged to five years old and responds accordingly.
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N 1: So, my fabulous friend makowe_pola requested this fic quite some time ago. And as she has injured her poor arm and can’t even draw to entertain herself, I hope this will distract her for a time. Thank you for all the fanart you’ve made for me darling, I hope my drabble can return the favour, if just a little.
Under different circumstances, sitting on Spock’s lap would have been a dream come true. Unfortunately for Jim, the triumph had been diluted - a lot.
Jim sighed and shifted his ass on Spock’s warm lap; long, strong hands reached out to steady him. He huffed and stared out the view-screen to the stars.
Chekov received a glower for sneaking an amused look over his shoulder.
Spock shifted in the captain’s seat. “Your allotted bridge time has concluded, Jim.” He used a far gentler tone than he ever had before.
The cause of that was very obviously because Spock didn’t often hallucinate that Jim was five years old. Hell, he didn’t even refer to Jim by his first name on a normal basis. Now Spock suffered the effects of some unknown flower pollen and he was perfectly fine in every aspect - except, of course, that he thought Jim was five. Five, for fuck’s sake!
It really took the kick out of cuddling up on Spock’s lap. Everyone was sneaking looks and bottling up their laughter - in fact, Ensign Kyle had started giggling uncontrollably not fifteen minutes ago. Spock had given him the patented die in a fire look and that had shut him up.
Spock probably assumed that Kyle was laughing at the absurdity of the situation - when in reality he was really just laughing at Jim. Period.
“Are you troubled, Jim?” Spock asked quietly in his ear.
Jim sent Spock a woeful look and their faces were far too close for comfort. Hell, his ass was far too close to Spock’s dick for comfort.
“I’m fine. I guess this means I have to go?”
“Indeed. Children are not permitted on the bridge, but as you are in the custody of an acting captain, I have acquiesced to a minor leeway.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Jim nearly cried with joy when Bones swept on to the bridge with a scowl.
“For Christ’s sake, Spock, stop babying him.”
Spock stiffened and lightly guided Jim from his lap. “I am not. I was merely fulfilling my care shift, nothing more.”
Jim stared awkwardly between Bones and Spock and suddenly felt like the child of divorced parents. Parents who wanted to phaser each other in the face.
Bones rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well maybe we wouldn’t need shifts if you realised Jim isn’t a toddler.”
Silence on the bridge as everyone held the collective breath.
Spock blinked. “I apologise, Doctor. Of what were you speaking?”
There was a communal inward groan as the crew minutely slumped in their seats. How long until this debacle ended?
Bones shook his head. “Come on, Jim.”
Jim headed for Bones - but feeling kind of guilty that he’d been sulking the entire shift, peered over his shoulder and sent Spock a small wave. “Thanks, Mr. Spock.”
Spock’s ears may have coloured a bit as he nodded. “I will sojourn with you at seventeen-hundred hours.”
“Okay.”
Jim wondered for the hundredth time why Spock was being so attentive to Little Jim. He inwardly shrugged and followed Bones.
***
“It is time for repose, Jim.”
“What? It’s only -”
No, there was no use in arguing. Really - Jim had tried. Apparently, it was bed at twenty-hundred hours every night. Jim was pretty sure he’d had enough sleep in the past week to equate with hibernation. He couldn’t even sneak out of bed once Spock left because their rooms were adjoined, and Spock insisted on keeping the door open.
“Can’t I just stay up a little longer?” Jim pleaded, hoping that Spock saw him as an adorable little kid with big teary eyes.
Spock actually seemed to struggle for a moment before he shook his head. “You require rest, Jim. Now, let us dress you for bed.”
“Ah...” Jim hedged. This was always one of the most awkward parts of his day. Spock had insisted he help the apparent five-year old with dressing and undressing. Keeping a clear state of mind while Spock’s hands were stripping him of his shirt was maddening and near-impossible. “I’ll just dress myself.”
Spock considered Jim and the stubborn set of his jaw. He nodded. “If you require aid, please alert me.”
Jim breathed a sigh of relief. “Right. Sure.”
***
“James Kirk, I request that you descend from that tree immediately,” Spock called up tersely.
“Nah,” Jim replied and grinned.
Their mission was to gauge the planet Dzidzri’s capacity for colonisation. And damn, was it ever perfect.
Much to Jim’s earlier dismay, he’d been required to remain on board until Spock had deemed the planet-side suitable for a child to run around. Bones was still fretting over the pollen levels in Spock’s blood stream, but their last test reported a seventeen percent decrease of the hallucinogen in Spock’s system.
In short, the effects would soon wear off.
With that in mind and the weight of worry off his chest, Jim decided he would embrace being a kid again. He’d never had much of a childhood to begin with anyway.
So he began his second childhood by scaling the largest, most warped tree he could find.
Jim swung his legs off a thick branch and grinned brightly down at Spock - who was standing with his hands on his hips.
“This is not a safe recreational activity,” Spock informed him evenly. He was a bit tense around the eyes. “You will listen to logic and return to the ground, as per my orders.”
“Make me,” Jim sing-songed, kicking his feet. He noted Bones in the distance with a couple members of the scouting party. The doctor shook his head at the scene and Jim waved merrily.
The leaves of the tree shivered and the wood groaned quietly. Jim snapped his attention downward and realised that Spock was weaving his way up with his usual poise and precision. Jim couldn’t help but smile at the concentration in Spock’s expression.
“You joining me, Commander?”
“I am.”
With a quiet breath, Spock settled closely beside Jim. When he didn’t try to make Jim climb down right away, he had to inspect Spock with some surprise. Spock placed a steadying hand around Jim’s waist to keep him from tipping back, and anything Jim had been about to say evaporated.
The gesture was logical and yet it filled Jim’s chest with unexpected warmth. Spock was always thoughtful in his own methodical way, but this... this was just him being kind to a little kid who wanted to climb a tree. No parent or carer of Jim’s had ever really encouraged his adventurous side - or anything at all, really.
Why Spock was being so lenient with Jim still remained a mystery. Spock was usually a no-exceptions kind of guy.
Regardless, Jim was going to capitalise on this until he couldn’t. He snuggled closer to Spock, who tightened his hold protectively.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Jim?”
Spock had never asked him that before. Those hallucinogens must have been pretty strong.
“Yep. Moreso now that you’re here.”
Spock nodded silently. “Had there been trees on my planet, I believe I would have taken pleasure in climbing them. I was fond of heights and physical activity as a child.”
Wow. And the fountain of Spock continued to flow.
Jim smiled to himself and looked out over the golden ridges of grass that blew in the wind like waves. “That doesn’t seem like a very logical pursuit.”
Spock flicked a look towards Jim. “No. It is not,” he replied simply.
Something curled uncomfortably in Jim’s stomach. Spock had never opened up to Jim so readily - and Jim supposed he still hadn’t, as his First was currently under the misconception that his captain was a little kid. Even so, this was a new level in their relationship and Jim just wasn’t used to being... that guy. The guy people confided in.
Jim frowned at Spock. “Not that I’m not enjoying you here or anything - but don’t you have work to do? Canvassing with your man-purse and whatnot.”
Spock quirked an eyebrow. “It is a tricorder. And yes, I have duties to attend to. But one of them involves monitoring you.”
“Ah. Well, how long can we stay up here?” Jim asked, looking down as he picked at a piece of bark.
“As long as you wish.”
They remained silent for a very long time. The sols were glowing bright and low in the horizon by the time Jim spoke quietly, his throat dry.
“Hey, Spock?”
“Yes?”
“It’s nice hanging out like this.”
Spock’s fingers lightly squeezed Jim’s arm. “I also enjoy your company, Jim.”
As a kid, Jim added inwardly.
***
In the ten months Jim had been Captain, he’d only gotten to sit and look at the stars from the observation deck twice. So when Jim realised he had far too much time on his hands to pursue his own interests - not by his own preference, mind, because he’d love to be Captain again - Jim had known what to do.
Spock hadn’t argued at all. In fact, he’d relented quite calmly to every wish Jim had announced, no matter how fickle or foolish. Jim really thought Spock would say no to a piggy-back ride - he’d only asked as a joke, after all. But before he knew it, Spock had knelt and requested Jim ‘alight with care’.
Really - what the hell?
Of course, Jim wasn’t complaining. Every day that he and Spock spent their evenings together he was learning some new about the previously mysterious Vulcan.
Even stranger than that - Jim was genuinely adding these memories to his own long-past childhood.
His had never been a great one. No one had watched the stars with him but for Sam before he’d run away. Jim had climbed trees alone and invented up his imaginary solitary games, and quite quickly learned to entertain himself without a dependence upon others. That probably explained why Jim was easily amused as an adult.
The point was, Jim cherished these moments with Spock. Sure, there was a large chunk of him that was frustrated with the situation and wished that the lingering twenty-three percent of pollen would flush out of Spock’s system now. But all the same, Jim was actually kind of weirdly happy. He was watching the stars with his friend, after all.
“Are we friends like this when I’m Captain?” Jim asked, already knowing the answer.
Spock went still beside him. “No.”
“Why?” He really wanted to know why.
“We have many duties to attend to,” Spock replied after a time. “There is much to be done on a Starship and your adult self is... busy. There is little time for fraternisation.”
“That sounds sad. I’m sure my grown-up self would like to spend time with you if you gave him the chance.”
“I do not believe so.”
Jim cocked his head. “Why?”
“I acted in a reprehensible manner towards my Captain in the past,” Spock admitted quietly, his voice steady. “I do not believe any logical person would wish to be my friend after what I have done.”
Fury flared within Jim and left his cheeks hot. He glowered at Spock’s profile, dismissing the stars that flew past them. “Does your captain seem like a logical person to you?”
At that, Spock turned and met Jim’s eyes. For a moment there was a flash of something unidentifiable. His lips twitched. “Rarely.”
“So,” Jim continued sharply. “Let’s be friends. We’ll stick together. Now and later.”
“I...” Spock’s gaze edged away. “I wish it were that easy.”
“It is. Look.” Jim held out his palm and spat in it, then held it out to a vaguely horrified Spock. “Spit and shake on it. Friends.”
Spock stared with wide doe-eyes, between the spittle-hand and Jim’s face. He swallowed. Jim waited, his eyes hard and impatient.
And then he did it. Spock actually spat in his own hand and shook Jim’s.
“Friends,” Spock murmured.
Jim thought his face might break from the smile that burst through. “Yeah. Friends.”
***
And then, being five years old got really freaking old.
***
“No, Jim. This holovid is not suitable for children. Perhaps you would prefer to watch a documentary on fruit bats.”
***
“No, Jim. I will not lengthen your sleeping arrangements. You are an age in which you require sufficient rest for the day.”
***
“Eat your vegetables, Jim. Yes, all of them.”
***
“Doctor McCoy, you dare give alcohol to a child? You will be written up and the board notified of this act of indecency and utter disregard for the health of a child. I find myself appalled with your conduct. Jim, come with me.”
***
“Vulcans do not paint, Jim.”
“Well then, as you’re only half-Vulcan you won’t need to worry about it.”
“You are rather logical for a five year-old Human.”
Jim sighed and mumbled, “That’s because I’m not five, fuck’s sake.”
According to Bones, Spock should be back to normal any day now. And although everyone kept their telling remarks to themselves most of the time, Jim was growing impatient. He wanted to be Captain again, dammit.
He nearly got his hopes up when Spock aimed a considering look Jim’s way. Their eyes held and for a moment those dark depths flickered - and then nothing.
Jim inwardly sighed and returned to the little pots of paint before them. He knew time was running short and now he was basically going crazy with pushing Spock into things he would never normally do. Jim must be one adorable five year-old for all the shit Spock was so patiently putting up with.
“You draw a picture for me and I’ll draw you one,” Jim ordered and dipped his finger into a random pot of colour - purple.
Spock remained silent beside him - staring at the blank canvas of paper before him as if it was the most difficult challenge he’d ever faced.
Destroying Nero? No problem. Drawing shit? Worst ever.
Jim put on a winning smile and kicked Spock beneath the table. “Please - for me? I want something you've made before -” before this all ends and we’re back to what we were. “I just want something,” Jim finished lamely.
Dark eyes dropped and when they returned to Jim’s expectant expression, Spock’s face was clear. “As you wish, Jim.”
Jim grinned at his small victory and returned to his work, happy to catch from the corner of his eye Spock tentatively placing one pale fingertip into orange.
Let it be known that Jim was not artistic in the slightest. This was more a test of his limits with Spock than anything. Jim’s picture was smears and stick figures and unrealistic proportions - but hell, he was kind of having fun. How he ended up with all of his fingers coated with drying paint of every colour, he didn’t know.
But it was nice to look up every now and then to see Spock’s blue-black, shining hair bent towards Jim’s in silent concentration. Every stroke of Spock’s fingers was purposeful, as with everything else he did. Jim smiled at the top of Spock’s head.
Before Jim could talk himself out of it, he reached out and smeared his fingers down Spock’s bangs.
Spock snapped back, and his hands reached for his hair but didn’t touch. Jim choked out a laugh at the four stripes of blue, yellow, pink, and purple streaking through Spock’s once-pristine bangs.
“Um -” Jim managed through a fit of suffocating giggles. “Accident.”
Jim had expected reprimands or Spock dashing to the bathroom to clean himself off - he hadn’t anticipated a hand coated in fresh yellow paint to plop wetly on Jim’s cheek and smear down his jaw and chin.
Spock stared at Jim, expressionless but for his eyes dancing with a completely foreign laughter. “I apologise, Jim. Under your apparent definition of an accident, that was also one.”
“Why you...” Jim hiccuped with a laugh and stumbled up from his seat.
He dashed around the table with a small pot of green in his hand - and even though Spock was quick enough to dodge the initial throw, the container knocked his shoulder and splattered across Spock’s cheek and ear.
Jim didn’t even have time to cheer in victory before a pot of purple was dumped over his head and dribbled along the back of his neck.
Jim shrieked with laughter as the cold paint tickled down his spine. He hastily shucked off his shirt and chucked it at Spock’s face. Jim rubbed the back of his neck and came up with fingers full of purple. He met Spock’s eyes with a predatory gleam and stalked towards him with his hand up.
“Oh, Mr. Spock. I am not the person to start a war with. I thought you’d learned that I never lose.”
Spock flicked a brow, which was spattered in green. “To be clear, it was you who instigated this battle. Additionally, I also plan on succeeding.”
Jim’s smile widened but he remained silent and advancing. His breath stopped and his heart jumped in the fleeting moment in which he faked out Spock and made a rush for him.
With a hoot of glee, Jim grabbed at Spock’s nape with his paint-slopped hand. When Spock made to jerk away, Jim simply wrapped both arms around Spock’s neck and tossed his head back in a guffaw. For a brief moment Jim was lifted entirely off his toes.
Then Spock’s paint-slick fingers grasped wetly at Jim’s bare hips and their eyes locked with humour and happiness - and they froze.
No - in fact, Spock did the opposite. His eyes snapped wide for a second and as quickly as he was there, he was shooting out the door without another word. The reaction was so sharp and so powerful that it had Jim stumbling back, alone; his hand reaching up to quiet his clattering heart.
For a long moment Jim simply stared at the floor, unblinking and huffing with unsteady breath. He looked down at his torso. Long, delicate imprints of green, purple and yellow marked Jim as Spock’s possession.
Jim tentatively laid his own hands atop the imprints, his fingertips lightly tracing where Spock had just been.
Shit.
Slowly, as if he were older than his years, Jim approached the table at which they’d been working. He moved to Spock’s side and delicately picked up the large sheet of paper.
His eyes lingering on the sheet, Jim said aloud, “Computer - McCoy, Sickbay.”
A few moments later and Bones’ voice grunted through the comm. “What’s up Jim? ...Jim - you there?”
Jim stared at the strong, sweeping strokes of blazing orange and dusty gold - and the sphere that once was Vulcan. Stars in a very illogical shade of purple were tiny, smeared dots in almost-perfect scientific proportion. And the largest star in the distance - the one that shown brightest among them all - was the placement of Earth.
“God dammit, Jim - are you there or not?”
Jim nodded, although he couldn’t be seen. He spoke softly. “Hey Bones?”
“What?”
“I think Spock remembers now. You might want to check on him.”
Jim didn’t hear the reply.
Spock had drawn him Vulcan and included Earth, too. He had drawn Jim home.
***
“He’s been avoiding me,” Jim said plaintively as he dropped in a seat across from Uhura in the cafeteria.
She looked up from her soup with an arched eyebrow. “Of course he is. He’s mortified.”
“I don’t see why.” Jim shoved a hunk of baked potato in his mouth. “It wasn’t his fault.”
Uhura pressed her lips together, her lashes lowering in thought. She spoke carefully. “Vulcans are prideful creatures, Kirk. This is the equivalent of throwing a cat in a bathtub. They grow indignant and annoyed and would prefer nothing to do with you for a period of time.”
Jim ignored the pang in his chest. “Yeah, except where he’s not a cat and actually my First Officer - and therefore needs to interact with me on, like, a daily basis.”
Uhura cocked her head, dark eyes searching Jim’s face. “Give him some time, Kirk.”
They ate in silence for a while before Jim grumbled, “How long would you say equates as ‘some time’?”
Uhura stared blandly at Jim. “Not yet.”
“Okay... Now?”
“Oh, hell - go after him and get out of my hair,” Uhura said with a roll of her eyes.
“Thanks for the advice,” Jim replied cheerfully and jumped from his seat. He was on a mission.
***
“You forgot your picture.”
Jim stood at the threshold of Spock’s room, staring up into those unnervingly dark eyes. Spock was totally unreadable.
“Thank you.” He plucked the sheet of paper from Jim’s fingers, but didn’t look down at it. His gaze did not falter from Jim’s face.
“Well, are you gonna look at it?” Jim demanded, his cheeks heating.
Spock blinked once and looked down. Jim refused to fidget. He peered along the corridor for anyone who might be peering in on the moment, but the halls were dead.
For a long moment Jim feared he would be turned away. That would be it - chance of friendship over before it had truly began. No hope of... of anything more. Whatever ‘more’ meant. Jim wouldn’t linger on it.
But his tongue felt heavy and his legs were jittery, and he couldn’t stop searching Spock’s expression for a reaction.
All he got was, “What are those lumps?”
Jim frowned. “What lumps?”
Spock pointed, his head lowered. Jim leaned forward to inspect the picture upside down. It was both of them, in some kind of mutilated stick-figure form. Stick-Jim had a big smile and Stick-Spock was frowning with a big cloud over his head. In the corner was a crude rendition of the Enterprise in the sky. Their home.
“Those are my muscles, obviously.”
“Your... muscles.”
“Yes. I have them, you know. Bigger than even in that picture.”
“Why am I wearing purple?” Still, there was no inflection in Spock’s voice.
He shrugged. “I thought you needed a little colour in your life.”
“Blue is a colour.”
“And a very good one on you, too. Still - purple? Very good on you.”
Spock looked up, his large eyes quiet. They made Jim nervous. He was rarely apprehensive - not even when Romulans were trying to kill him. But standing here before Spock with this stupid picture he’d drawn between them, waiting for something - yeah, this was terrifying.
“Spock?” he murmured.
“Why are you here, Captain?” Spock asked firmly.
“I - well.” Jim’s brow furrowed. “Can I come in?”
Spock appeared to hesitate, before he nodded and took a step back in assent. Jim swept past, into the sweltering room. He ran a hand through his hair and faced Spock’s bed rather than the man himself.
“I’m not going to apologise for anything, all right? Nothing that happened was your fault or mine. I had to go with it because I had no choice - and yeah.” Jim whirled around and held Spock’s gaze. “I took advantage of your... regard - whatever - for the child version of me. It was nice. I liked being friends with you. I liked how you were with me when you didn’t really think it was me. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that.”
“Is that what you assume?” Spock inquired with a slight incline to his chin.
“What else is there to think?” Jim snapped, unsure why he was upset all of a sudden.
“I never equated your younger self with a different version of you, Jim. I was fully aware that whatever memories you created with me as a child might persevere through your transformation to adulthood.”
Jim blinked. “Oh. So - why then?”
A wrinkle appeared and disappeared on Spock’s brow. “What is your inquiry?”
“Why were you so nice to me? You basically let me walk all over you.”
Spock didn’t reply; he walked towards his desk and set the drawing down carefully, his fingertips lingering at the corner before he faced Jim.
“I had wished for you to come away with pleasant memories of your second childhood. It was logical to make your experience a positive one.”
Jim narrowed his eyes. “Okay,” he said slowly, unsure of his footing. “But why? You could have handed me off to Bones or a child-carer, but you didn’t. You, well...”
At Spock’s blank look, Jim shrugged, agitation tightening his features. Under the circumstances, there was only so far he would push. His childhood was not something he relived and it was certainly not something he voluntarily brought up. But he couldn’t let this go - because for a few weeks it had truly felt as if Spock had liked him.
And Jim hadn’t realised how much that mattered to him until now.
“Look,” Jim began pacing across Spock’s path. “You don’t do anything without an agenda. I don’t mean that negatively, it’s just a fact. Everything you do, Spock, has a purpose. Taking me on the bridge when it’s against regulations? Setting aside your work to spend time with me, the piggy-back ride, the finger painting - what were you really hoping to get out of it? I honestly can’t figure it the fuck out and it’s been driving me insane.”
“Captain.”
Jim halted. “What?”
Spock cocked his head. “Would it be so unusual to imagine that I had hoped to give you a piece of the satisfying childhood that you did not have?”
“You - what,” Jim stuttered. “How did you -”
“I have read your file, Captain,” Spock said in his obviously kind of way. “Perhaps I have made the incorrect conclusion, but I had thought that you -”
Jim held up a silencing hand. White noise was threatening to deafen him and his heart climbed dangerously close to his throat. “You wanted to make me happy?”
“Yes.”
“Because I had a crappy childhood. You wanted to make memories and shit with me.” Jim wasn’t sure he could actually fathom the amount of thought Spock had put into this.
Spock blinked. “Is that unusual?”
“Yes - I mean, no. I mean -” Jim frowned and took a step towards Spock. “You were trying to make things right for what happened... before, weren’t you? I mean, in some way.”
Lips parted and Spock took a soft breath. He nodded. “In a fashion.”
Jim scowled and cuffed Spock’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Idiot. You think I’d carry that kind of bullshit around with me? What’s done is done and now it’s just you and me, right here. We’re friends, remember? We spat on it.”
Spock’s countenance relaxed and the corner of his mouth curved faintly. “It would be difficult to forget such an event.”
“Good. Now -” Jim wandered towards the desk and stared down at the picture he’d drawn. He turned to see Spock surveying him silently, eyes patient.
Jim cleared his throat and flicked his gaze to the floor, leaning back against the edge of the desk. “About that day. I mean... when did you snap back to normal, exactly?”
A shadow fell over Spock’s face and he shook his head. “The particular moment is unclear. The entire time in which we were... engaging in recreation,” Spock decided, the tips of his ears darkening. “Felt as if it had been you as you are now. But I can only recall at the time assuming that it was your younger self until you... embraced me.”
Spock’s fingertips curled against his thighs. “I apologise, Captain. The memory is rather ambiguous.”
“It’s okay,” Jim assured him hastily and pushed off the desk to come to Spock. “I just wanted to know if...”
“Speak your mind, Captain.”
“Jim, please.”
Spock’s gaze flickered down. “Jim.”
Jim blurted out, “I guess I just wanted to know if it was me turning into the, uh, regular me that you didn’t like. That made you run.”
At Spock’s noticeable hesitation, Jim smiled and moved to rush past Spock. Putting himself out there wasn’t exactly under Jim’s list of skills. “Never mind - I’ll see you la -”
“Jim.”
Jim halted and turned, his brow furrowed. “What?”
Spock was some feet away from him. His own mouth was pulled in a bemused frown - and yet he still didn’t speak.
Jim took a step back in retreat.
This isn’t some cruddy rom-com, he reminded himself. People didn’t always know the right way to say things - or how to ever say things. If this... this relationship was left to idle like it was, the possibility would always remain that nothing would come of it.
And then Jim remembered - he didn’t do idle. He did full speed off a cliff.
“I have a question,” Jim said, shifting gears and approaching Spock once more.
Spock’s posture went rigid, his speech curt. “I welcome it.”
One corner of Jim’s lips pulled up unconsciously. “Do you? Good.” He paused inches before Spock - could feel the familiar heat radiating off of him.
Jim wet his lips slowly. He looked down at Spock’s chest and reached forward to idly pick off an invisible speck of lint. “About the paint war...”
Spock’s voice was husky. He may have imperceptibly leaned in to Jim’s space. “Yes?”
Their gazes snagged and stuck; Spock’s eyelids looked heavy, his pupils swollen and intent on Jim.
Jim sucked in a breath and jumped.
“As gross and unromantic and moment-breaking as this is - I totally never wanted to bathe again after your grubby rainbow handprints had been on me.”
Spock blinked rapidly and Jim breathed a light laugh, shrugging. “I mean, it doesn’t mean everything, but that’s gotta mean something - right?”
It means a lot, Spock. Do you see how much it means? Fuck.
Spock faintly shook his head. “Jim, I -”
“Spock,” Jim snapped, growing impatient. He didn’t do Disney scenes or whatever the hell this was.
Jaw set with determination, Jim firmly cupped the nape of Spock’s neck in the way he had so many days before. He anchored his gaze on Spock and gave that hot neck a little squeeze.
“Do you or do you not want my hands on you the way I want your hands on me? Are you going to take me - messy and fucked up and impatient and really horn -”
Spock’s warm, moist mouth engulfing Jim’s was all the answer he required. Jim went hard and pliant all at once against the lean press of Spock’s body, throwing himself into the kiss with the same enthusiasm that he approached everything. When slender fingers burrowed into the delicate flesh of Jim’s hips, he ignored his own pathetic whimper around Spock’s velvety tongue.
Jim hadn’t a clue how long they branded each other with lips and teeth and fingertips - but when Spock reluctantly pulled away, Jim could only stare up at him with flushed cheeks and huffing breath.
Spock peered down at Jim with sleepy, hooded eyes. His voice was hoarse. “Of course I take you, Jim. We spat on it.”
“We -” Jim boggled up at Spock before a beaming smile threatened to break his face. “Yeah. Yeah - we spat on it. Now you’re stuck with me.”
Spock’s nose brushed Jim’s as he murmured, “Now and later.”