[fic] Clouded Memories 2/4
Author's name:chibinecco
Written/Drawn for: asmallcrime
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: After an accident during an away mission, both Kirk and Spock somehow lose their memories. Not knowing where they are or who they are, they both must learn to rely and trust one another for their very survival. Along the way, dormant emotions rise to the surface, making the two men suspect that whatever they were in the past, it was probably a lot more serious and complex than mere friendship.
Warnings: Amnesia, extreme levels of sap
Disclaimer: Characters copyright Gene Roddenberry
Twenty minutes later, James found himself completely alone, standing beside a fairly deep streambed. "Too bad I don't have any soap." He mused to himself, stripping down to his skivvies and considering his splint. He couldn't very well get it wet, the 'wet dog' smell that would permeate the thing afterward would completely defeat the purpose of his trip out here, at least one of the purposes.
Now that he was on his own, James' body had taken to informing him just what he hadn't been able to do while in close contact with Spock most of the day. Ignoring that aspect for now, James decided the walk back could be done without the extra support; it wasn't too far, and he was healing nicely. Unwrapping his ankle and setting the supplies with the rest of his clothes, James then cautiously braved the chilled water. Surprisingly, the water was relatively warm. "Must be overflow from a hot spring. Just be glad it doesn't smell like sulfur," James said to himself, scrubbing the general silt from his body, ducking his head under and shaking the water loose from his hair when he came up.
It felt good to get clean. Very good, he had to admit, sitting down on a large rock in the shallower bank-waters. The warm water had felt wonderful on his injured ankle, and also on other parts of him. His cock bobbed comically in the gentle current of the water, staring plaintively up at him through the clear water. "Alright, alright," James sighed, not particularly put out as he wrapped his fingers around the length of it and gave an experimental stroke.
He gave a soft hum of pleasure, exploring his body. It felt weird, not remembering. It was as if he were experiencing the sensations for the first time, yet some instinctive part of him knew that wasn't the case. With a grunt, James gave his cock a rough, twisting stroke, jerking his hips up into the tight circle beneath the water.
James let his mind wander. The sensations dancing strange colors and pictures across the backs of his closed eyes. Spots of red and black coalescing into vague shapes, cut cheeks, a strong jaw. James moaned as he allowed the vague face to take the shape of his fellow strandee. "Spock."
As soon as he said the name, his hips bucked. "Like that?" James asked himself, twisting his grip again and imagining what Spock must look like without his tight, blue shirt and slick, black pants. Broad shoulders tapered into slim hips, strong thighs stood apart, an erection to match James' own stretched out for him, his touch. James imagined reaching out, grabbing Spock's hot, thick length, jerking himself faster.
Opening his eyes, James stared down at himself, the dark spot of his slit poking out of the shallow waters, James' hand splashing as he rubbed the palm of his hand over the head. "Fuck." He gasped, pushing up, feeling a shuddery pleasure starting deep in his gut and radiating outwards. "Oh, fuck. Spock!" James shouted. Thick, white spurts shot out of him, splashing into the water several feet in front of him.
Chuckling to himself, James watched the current carry his cum away until it had dissipated too much in the clear waters to see anymore. "Well... That was nice," He murmured, carefully getting to his feet and making his way back to his clothes.
Quickly rinsing his clothes in the stream, James dried himself off and wrapped the blanket around his waist. It was rough, but held in place, allowing him to gather his wet clothes and begin the walk back to camp.
By the time he got back, James was regretting the decision to take of his splint. The ground wasn't particularly uneven, but without the extra support, his injured ankle was struggling to cope. James had nearly fallen on more than one occasion. Supporting himself on trees as he could, James made his way along. As soon as the camp was in sight, he called out, "Spock! Hey, Spock!"
Promptly, Spock came out, coming around he shuttle and trotting to meet him. "You have removed your splint."
"Yeah. I didn't want it to get wet, but I think that was a mistake."
"You have returned now, with the splint dry. Come, I will assist you, and show you how to reapply it in the future, so you will not injure yourself further."
"I don't think I injured anything," James said, draping an arm over Spock's shoulders and allowing himself to be led back to the shuttle and into their room.
Allowing James to situate himself on the bed, Spock took the wet clothes into the main room, laying them flat on the destroyed consoles to dry before returning.
Sitting gingerly on his bed, James drew the blanket over his lap before lifting his foot for Spock to tend to.
"I believe you are correct, you have not overtly injured the limb-"
"But I wasn't doing myself any favors either, I get it," James sighed.
"Aptly put."
"Thanks." James glared at the foot in Spock's hands as the other man carefully wrapped it back up.
Once he had finished, Spock sat beside James on the bed and held out a hand.
"Huh?"
"As I mentioned before, it has been 8.75 hours since you last tended to my hands. They would benefit from a second session."
"Oh, yeah. You sure it's alright?" James asked first.
"Yes, your ministrations are sufficiently cautious and my hands sufficiently healed that you do not injure me."
"I just mean..." James trailed off, turning to face Spock as he took the offered hand. "I dunno, maybe I can't remember, but it seems like most guys would find it kind of embarrassing to get hard in front of someone from what could be considered a medical procedure."
"It is a biochemical reaction from the nervous sensitivity of the injuries and my body's innate makeup. I see no need to place additional meaning to the reaction."
"Yeah, sure," James sighed, squeezing the fleshy pad of Spock's thumb.
James was finishing Spock's second hand when he spoke again. "You've got nice hands."
"How so?"
"I dunno, they're just nice." James looked up to see Spock looking back at him.
"Thank you."
James looked away. "Just saying." He let the hand fall back into Spock's lap.
Silence stretched between them, making James feel mildly uncomfortable, when he checked, Spock was hard again.
"It's getting dark."
"Yes."
James cleared his throat into the silence. "Who were we, Spock?" He asked quietly.
"I wish I knew," Spock murmured.
James looked over. "We should get some sleep. We'll need to find a source of protein from somewhere, tomorrow."
Spock nodded, retreating back to his own pallet.
Tucking himself under his blanket, James discarded the damp blanket on the floor and settled in to sleep. "Good night, Spock."
"Good night, James."
~
The next morning, James awoke alone, his clothes folded neatly on the floor where he'd laid his makeshift towel. He smiled at the thoughtfulness,. Pulling the clothes on and padding out into the main room, he checked on 'Clint' before heading outside to find Spock boiling water to drink.
The fog was still thick around them, and James was getting quickly tired of the constant dampness that seemed to get everywhere, it made his clothes cling to him from washing them the night before.
"Sleep well, Spock?"
"Yes, thank you for your concern."
James picked up one of the refilled bottles 'Clint' had consumed all the electrolyte water from. "We're going to need to find some kind of animal today, or soon."
"Yes." Spock set aside the water to cool.
Sighing after a long draft, James handed the bottle back to Spock. "You think we should split up to look or stick together?"
"Splitting up would cover more ground; however, in light of both our injuries, I believe safety dictates we remain together."
"You're probably right. You fed 'Clint' yet?"
"I have not."
"Alright, I'll take care of him while you get that water into a container. You know, I don't think four bottles isn't going to be enough, long term. We should make a trough, just in case we get any rain we'll have a clean source of fresh water."
"As usual, your idea has merit."
James grinned, going in to see 'Clint' and carefully coax some fluids into him. Thankfully, the unconscious man's injuries seemed to be healing without infection, keeping their job at least a little easier.
~
Traversing the forest with a bum limb was surprisingly difficult. James had expected to have to go slower to care for his ankle, he hadn't realized how much noise he'd make every time he set it down. Wrapped up as it was, he couldn't tell exactly where the ground was and kept bumping into the undergrowth.
"If there were any 'fauna' here this morning, there aren't now," James grumbled, stubbing his toe on a tree root.
"No." Spock was having just as much trouble with his arm. Without any clear paths, the ground was too uneven to move around without a hand hold.
"Think we should turn back to conserve energy?"
"That may be wise," Spock agreed.
"Hey, wait." James pointed at a mass just visible behind a fallen tree. It wasn't moving; and as they got closer, they could see the mass stretched nearly the entire length of the log. "I think we found our protein."
Spock stared warily.
"Well, assuming it isn't poisonous. Mushrooms, Spock. We could make a stock out of this for 'Clint,' too. It's not as good as if we found game, but think about it."
"The genus is not a true mushroom."
"Whatever. Close enough. Let's cut some out and take it back with us."
"We cannot be sure- Stop!" Spock reached out as James pinched off a piece and put it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Not bad. I'm sure I'll get tired of it pretty quickly once it's the only thing we're eating though."
"Are you mentally sound?"
"Spock, how else are we going to know if it's safe to eat? There are antiallergenics in the med-kit; and if I still feel fine by the time we get back to camp, then we'll know it's safe. A piece this small isn't going to hurt me."
"You cannot be certain of that."
James smiled at the concern ins Spock's eyes. "Think of it, Spock. We've seen zero evidence of fauna. No trails, no scat, nothing. There's no need to be poisonous if nothing eats you."
"Your argument is logical," Spock said, folding his arms behind his back.
"Of course it is, now cut out a chunk and let's get going, my feet hurt and I want to get to making a stock for 'Clint' before we run out of the electrolyte waters."
Nodding, Spock pulled his shrapnel knife from his belt and began carving pieces and placing them into the pack.
"We're going to need more than four empty bottles to keep stuff in."
"I concur, but what do you propose?"
"No idea, but the plant-life around here is pretty watertight we should see if we can make some kind of pouch."
"A gourd or seed pod would be most likely to succeed."
James nodded, looking around the patch of forest they happened to be standing in. "Weird that I can remember that, but I can't remember how we met."
"General, factual knowledge is stored in a different location of the brain than emotional memories."
"You find it strange that we both seemed to get exactly the right kind of head injury to forget all our personal memories?"
"Yes," Spock said, resealing the pack and handing it to James who slipped his arms through the straps. "The probability of such an occurrence, without the precision of an outside influence, is too low for my mathematical ability to calculate unassisted."
"You think someone did this to us?"
"It is the most likely explanation."
James swallowed nervously, adjusting the pack and turning back towards camp. "You think they're still watching us?"
"I do not know."
~
Back at the camp, 'Clint' had soiled himself again, but Spock had thankfully arranged a makeshift bedpan, so clean up was decidedly simpler; and again, didn't require any assistance from James, for which he was immensely grateful.
Spock returned, 'Clint' clean and draped once more over his shoulder.
"I can't tell you how glad I am that you're strong enough and willing to do that without me," James said, giving his mushroom stock a stir.
"So you have said."Spock ducked back into the shuttle, quickly returning to kneel next to James in the dirt beside the campfire.
"We need some kind of grate to put over the fire, I have no idea how you can just hold this pot forever."
"My species' muscle density is significantly more than your own."
"Yeah, but if we could leave the soup to boil on it's own, then it'd free us up to do something else, carving spoons or whatever. Eating protein chunks with our hands is one thing, soup is quite another."
James watched Spock stand and walk into the shuttle without a word. A moment later, there was a loud, wrenching noise, and Spock stepped back into the open with one of the metal covers for a console in his hand.
James laughed. "That'll work." The cover had several holes and gaps in it for the different buttons that had once been an elaborate interface before fire had melted it all unrecognizable.
Setting it beside James, Spock wandered into the fog along the carved ravine of their crash site, eventually, he returned with four, fair-sized rocks. Placing them in a large square around their fire, Spock lifted the cover and placed it back over the fire.
James set the pot on it and let go. It held strong, bubbling merrily, letting him sit back and massage his arm. "That looks great."
"Depending on the alloys present in the metal, some warping may be expected."
"Spock, my arm feels like it's about to fall off, I don't care how mutilated it ends up looking, as long as it works."
Spock nodded, his eyes watching as James massaged his sore bicep.
James looked down at his hand, puzzled. "Something wrong?"
"No."
James looked back up at Spock again and remembered. "Oh, damn. I'm sorry, I completely forgot about your hands this morning. Are they okay?"
"They are healing sufficiently."
"Why didn't you remind me?" James asked, reaching out for one.
Spock held it out, after a moment's pause. "You expressed reluctance on more than one occasion. The massage is not necessary for their recovery; it only speeds it."
"That's only because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." James squeezed each of Spock's fingers in turn, ignoring the way the other man's breathing sped up noticeably.
"Your concerns are appreciated but unwarranted."
"Alright then. Whenever you need this, just tell me, alright?" James looked up at Spock, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
"I shall obey."
James ignored the way he shivered at Spock's tone of voice. By his own admission, it was nothing more than a biochemical reflex. Attaching any extra meaning to this wouldn't be doing either of them any favors.
~
Over the next few days, they fell into a routine. They spent mornings exploring the forest around them, collecting any useful supplies they came across before returning to cook lunch and spend the afternoon talking and playing whatever games James managed to come up with.
So far, they had two considerably different games to chose from. One, James drew a large circle in the dirt, and they proceeded to see who could knock the most pebbles out of the circle by flicking larger pebbles at them. They didn't play this often, as James had a significant advantage being the only one without bandages covering most of his hands.
The second, Spock had created a circular grid out of a large stone and some dark, red clay they had found. Watching Spock draw the precise lines onto the smooth surface had been fascinating. The rules to moving their separate pieces around the board changed frequently as they worked out the kinks to the game play.
'Clint' had yet to show any signs of improvement; however, changing the dressing to his wound showed it was healing quickly. The speed at which this and the cut over Spock's forehead had healed made James wonder at how necessary the bandages over Spock's fingers were; but the other man insisted, asking for hand massages at regular intervals, every meal.
James himself had long since foregone applying the bandages to his injured ankle. Sitting on a log by the fire, tending to Spock's hands before dinner, a thought occurred to him. "You know, I could keep doing this once your hands are better. If you want."
Spock looked up at him, unreadable as usual. "That would be illogical."
"I don't know. It doesn't hurt to get a little extra circulation help sometimes, and it's kind of nice, sitting together quietly, doing this for you."
Spock nodded slowly. "Your offer is appreciated."
James smiled at his friend. "Good." He patted Spock's knee as he finished, reaching for the food. "Now, let's eat. I'm starving, and I'd like to go bathe before it gets too dark." He had insisted on going out after dark once, and nearly gotten hopelessly lost coming back. Thankfully, he'd been close enough to camp that Spock had heard his frustrated cursing and been able to direct him back to camp.
Apparently, low-light vision could be added to the list of superior abilities Spock's species had over James'.
~
At the stream by himself, James didn't bother with pretenses of cleaning first anymore, simply undressing and climbing into the water before taking himself in hand. The first go was always quick. Spending the entire day, looking, wanting what he couldn't let himself have with Spock. The most base images always took him quickly to the edge and over it, gasping and trembling as the water washed over him.
"Fuck," He sighed happily, squeezing the last dribbles out before getting to the business of cleaning everything off. He let his mind wander, wondering what it would be like if they were never rescued. If no one was looking for them, maybe they would be trapped here. How terrible would that be?
James couldn't remember his life before, he only remembered Spock and their metal cabin in the woods. Coming home to find Spock working on one project or another. They still hadn't successfully found a solution to their limited supply of watertight containers. Most recently, he had found Spock attempting to create a paste of plant-matter that he could use to glue two leaves together with. They would know tomorrow morning after the paste had dried if it worked.
James smiled as he thought of the little crease that appeared between Spock's pointed brows at each failed idea. The man didn't show his feelings often, and James lived for the little cracks in the mask he seemed to wear at all hours.
Clean as he was going to get, James took his time wrapping his fingers loosely around himself and imagining his friend. This time, the fantasy more elaborate, sweeter. Spock kissing him. Spock holding him as James wanted to hold Spock. The two of them falling easily to James' bed, kissing and touching. James imagined taking Spock's length in hand, stroking firm and even. Spock's face would open to him, gasping in pleasure as James tangled their fingers together above Spock's head. Spock would wrap a hand around James' cock, gripping and squeezing with those sensitive fingers.
Stroking quickly at himself in the shallows, James moaned as he imagined the fierce, almost burning-hot touch of Spock's cheek against his. Twisting his wrist, James pumped his hips up, closing his eyes and moaning Spock's name. Panting harder, James let himself fall, pushing himself over that edge, imagining Spock would be there to catch him as they fell together.
Shuddering in the warm, sleepy glow afterward, James cleaned himself up and dried himself off, gathering his damp clothes and making his way back to camp silently.
Knowing it was only a fantasy was starting to eat at James' thoughts, but he wasn't sure how to ask; and if Spock didn't feel the same, there was no where else to turn if things got awkward between them.
~
The next morning, James padded outside to find Spock hanging several pouches along the side of the shuttle.
"Oh, did it work?" James asked, excited.
Spock lifted a finished pouch from where it was tied securely to his belt. James wasn't sure how, but he could see the triumph in Spock's eyes. "Indeed."
"That's fantastic." James accepted the pouch, examining the neat seal that glued the two leaves together. There was no way to set the pouch on the ground, but it would hold water nicely and hang easily from the ship for storage.
"These will be ready for use in approximately 20.26 hours."
"That's great, Spock. We should celebrate."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Spock said, his eyebrow climbing, but James could tell he was just as excited.
"Let's take the morning off, just spend the whole day hanging out, being lazy. We can really slow-roast some of the mushroom with those nuts you found yesterday. Give it a nice smokey flavor and have it for dinner."
"I accept your proposal. A day of rest would be welcome."
James smiled. "Maybe we can even agree on a set of rules for that board game and play a few rounds."
"I am amenable to your suggestion," Spock said, following easily as James dragged him away from the last of the pouches and setting them across from each other at the board.
"Would it not be beneficial to begin the meal before we indulge in play?"
"Oh, fine, go cook. I'll just sit here and draw on our pieces until you're satisfied." The last time James had volunteered to help with making anything more difficult than soup stock, he'd only managed in burning his fingers and accidentally putting the fire out before Spock shooed him away.
By the time Spock rejoined him, James had created a completely new game. Each piece having it's own name and abilities. Spock was a dutiful student though, and they soon were playing game after game as the smell of their food filled the air between them.
Chapter 3
Written/Drawn for: asmallcrime
Pairing/Characters: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: After an accident during an away mission, both Kirk and Spock somehow lose their memories. Not knowing where they are or who they are, they both must learn to rely and trust one another for their very survival. Along the way, dormant emotions rise to the surface, making the two men suspect that whatever they were in the past, it was probably a lot more serious and complex than mere friendship.
Warnings: Amnesia, extreme levels of sap
Disclaimer: Characters copyright Gene Roddenberry
Twenty minutes later, James found himself completely alone, standing beside a fairly deep streambed. "Too bad I don't have any soap." He mused to himself, stripping down to his skivvies and considering his splint. He couldn't very well get it wet, the 'wet dog' smell that would permeate the thing afterward would completely defeat the purpose of his trip out here, at least one of the purposes.
Now that he was on his own, James' body had taken to informing him just what he hadn't been able to do while in close contact with Spock most of the day. Ignoring that aspect for now, James decided the walk back could be done without the extra support; it wasn't too far, and he was healing nicely. Unwrapping his ankle and setting the supplies with the rest of his clothes, James then cautiously braved the chilled water. Surprisingly, the water was relatively warm. "Must be overflow from a hot spring. Just be glad it doesn't smell like sulfur," James said to himself, scrubbing the general silt from his body, ducking his head under and shaking the water loose from his hair when he came up.
It felt good to get clean. Very good, he had to admit, sitting down on a large rock in the shallower bank-waters. The warm water had felt wonderful on his injured ankle, and also on other parts of him. His cock bobbed comically in the gentle current of the water, staring plaintively up at him through the clear water. "Alright, alright," James sighed, not particularly put out as he wrapped his fingers around the length of it and gave an experimental stroke.
He gave a soft hum of pleasure, exploring his body. It felt weird, not remembering. It was as if he were experiencing the sensations for the first time, yet some instinctive part of him knew that wasn't the case. With a grunt, James gave his cock a rough, twisting stroke, jerking his hips up into the tight circle beneath the water.
James let his mind wander. The sensations dancing strange colors and pictures across the backs of his closed eyes. Spots of red and black coalescing into vague shapes, cut cheeks, a strong jaw. James moaned as he allowed the vague face to take the shape of his fellow strandee. "Spock."
As soon as he said the name, his hips bucked. "Like that?" James asked himself, twisting his grip again and imagining what Spock must look like without his tight, blue shirt and slick, black pants. Broad shoulders tapered into slim hips, strong thighs stood apart, an erection to match James' own stretched out for him, his touch. James imagined reaching out, grabbing Spock's hot, thick length, jerking himself faster.
Opening his eyes, James stared down at himself, the dark spot of his slit poking out of the shallow waters, James' hand splashing as he rubbed the palm of his hand over the head. "Fuck." He gasped, pushing up, feeling a shuddery pleasure starting deep in his gut and radiating outwards. "Oh, fuck. Spock!" James shouted. Thick, white spurts shot out of him, splashing into the water several feet in front of him.
Chuckling to himself, James watched the current carry his cum away until it had dissipated too much in the clear waters to see anymore. "Well... That was nice," He murmured, carefully getting to his feet and making his way back to his clothes.
Quickly rinsing his clothes in the stream, James dried himself off and wrapped the blanket around his waist. It was rough, but held in place, allowing him to gather his wet clothes and begin the walk back to camp.
By the time he got back, James was regretting the decision to take of his splint. The ground wasn't particularly uneven, but without the extra support, his injured ankle was struggling to cope. James had nearly fallen on more than one occasion. Supporting himself on trees as he could, James made his way along. As soon as the camp was in sight, he called out, "Spock! Hey, Spock!"
Promptly, Spock came out, coming around he shuttle and trotting to meet him. "You have removed your splint."
"Yeah. I didn't want it to get wet, but I think that was a mistake."
"You have returned now, with the splint dry. Come, I will assist you, and show you how to reapply it in the future, so you will not injure yourself further."
"I don't think I injured anything," James said, draping an arm over Spock's shoulders and allowing himself to be led back to the shuttle and into their room.
Allowing James to situate himself on the bed, Spock took the wet clothes into the main room, laying them flat on the destroyed consoles to dry before returning.
Sitting gingerly on his bed, James drew the blanket over his lap before lifting his foot for Spock to tend to.
"I believe you are correct, you have not overtly injured the limb-"
"But I wasn't doing myself any favors either, I get it," James sighed.
"Aptly put."
"Thanks." James glared at the foot in Spock's hands as the other man carefully wrapped it back up.
Once he had finished, Spock sat beside James on the bed and held out a hand.
"Huh?"
"As I mentioned before, it has been 8.75 hours since you last tended to my hands. They would benefit from a second session."
"Oh, yeah. You sure it's alright?" James asked first.
"Yes, your ministrations are sufficiently cautious and my hands sufficiently healed that you do not injure me."
"I just mean..." James trailed off, turning to face Spock as he took the offered hand. "I dunno, maybe I can't remember, but it seems like most guys would find it kind of embarrassing to get hard in front of someone from what could be considered a medical procedure."
"It is a biochemical reaction from the nervous sensitivity of the injuries and my body's innate makeup. I see no need to place additional meaning to the reaction."
"Yeah, sure," James sighed, squeezing the fleshy pad of Spock's thumb.
James was finishing Spock's second hand when he spoke again. "You've got nice hands."
"How so?"
"I dunno, they're just nice." James looked up to see Spock looking back at him.
"Thank you."
James looked away. "Just saying." He let the hand fall back into Spock's lap.
Silence stretched between them, making James feel mildly uncomfortable, when he checked, Spock was hard again.
"It's getting dark."
"Yes."
James cleared his throat into the silence. "Who were we, Spock?" He asked quietly.
"I wish I knew," Spock murmured.
James looked over. "We should get some sleep. We'll need to find a source of protein from somewhere, tomorrow."
Spock nodded, retreating back to his own pallet.
Tucking himself under his blanket, James discarded the damp blanket on the floor and settled in to sleep. "Good night, Spock."
"Good night, James."
~
The next morning, James awoke alone, his clothes folded neatly on the floor where he'd laid his makeshift towel. He smiled at the thoughtfulness,. Pulling the clothes on and padding out into the main room, he checked on 'Clint' before heading outside to find Spock boiling water to drink.
The fog was still thick around them, and James was getting quickly tired of the constant dampness that seemed to get everywhere, it made his clothes cling to him from washing them the night before.
"Sleep well, Spock?"
"Yes, thank you for your concern."
James picked up one of the refilled bottles 'Clint' had consumed all the electrolyte water from. "We're going to need to find some kind of animal today, or soon."
"Yes." Spock set aside the water to cool.
Sighing after a long draft, James handed the bottle back to Spock. "You think we should split up to look or stick together?"
"Splitting up would cover more ground; however, in light of both our injuries, I believe safety dictates we remain together."
"You're probably right. You fed 'Clint' yet?"
"I have not."
"Alright, I'll take care of him while you get that water into a container. You know, I don't think four bottles isn't going to be enough, long term. We should make a trough, just in case we get any rain we'll have a clean source of fresh water."
"As usual, your idea has merit."
James grinned, going in to see 'Clint' and carefully coax some fluids into him. Thankfully, the unconscious man's injuries seemed to be healing without infection, keeping their job at least a little easier.
~
Traversing the forest with a bum limb was surprisingly difficult. James had expected to have to go slower to care for his ankle, he hadn't realized how much noise he'd make every time he set it down. Wrapped up as it was, he couldn't tell exactly where the ground was and kept bumping into the undergrowth.
"If there were any 'fauna' here this morning, there aren't now," James grumbled, stubbing his toe on a tree root.
"No." Spock was having just as much trouble with his arm. Without any clear paths, the ground was too uneven to move around without a hand hold.
"Think we should turn back to conserve energy?"
"That may be wise," Spock agreed.
"Hey, wait." James pointed at a mass just visible behind a fallen tree. It wasn't moving; and as they got closer, they could see the mass stretched nearly the entire length of the log. "I think we found our protein."
Spock stared warily.
"Well, assuming it isn't poisonous. Mushrooms, Spock. We could make a stock out of this for 'Clint,' too. It's not as good as if we found game, but think about it."
"The genus is not a true mushroom."
"Whatever. Close enough. Let's cut some out and take it back with us."
"We cannot be sure- Stop!" Spock reached out as James pinched off a piece and put it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Not bad. I'm sure I'll get tired of it pretty quickly once it's the only thing we're eating though."
"Are you mentally sound?"
"Spock, how else are we going to know if it's safe to eat? There are antiallergenics in the med-kit; and if I still feel fine by the time we get back to camp, then we'll know it's safe. A piece this small isn't going to hurt me."
"You cannot be certain of that."
James smiled at the concern ins Spock's eyes. "Think of it, Spock. We've seen zero evidence of fauna. No trails, no scat, nothing. There's no need to be poisonous if nothing eats you."
"Your argument is logical," Spock said, folding his arms behind his back.
"Of course it is, now cut out a chunk and let's get going, my feet hurt and I want to get to making a stock for 'Clint' before we run out of the electrolyte waters."
Nodding, Spock pulled his shrapnel knife from his belt and began carving pieces and placing them into the pack.
"We're going to need more than four empty bottles to keep stuff in."
"I concur, but what do you propose?"
"No idea, but the plant-life around here is pretty watertight we should see if we can make some kind of pouch."
"A gourd or seed pod would be most likely to succeed."
James nodded, looking around the patch of forest they happened to be standing in. "Weird that I can remember that, but I can't remember how we met."
"General, factual knowledge is stored in a different location of the brain than emotional memories."
"You find it strange that we both seemed to get exactly the right kind of head injury to forget all our personal memories?"
"Yes," Spock said, resealing the pack and handing it to James who slipped his arms through the straps. "The probability of such an occurrence, without the precision of an outside influence, is too low for my mathematical ability to calculate unassisted."
"You think someone did this to us?"
"It is the most likely explanation."
James swallowed nervously, adjusting the pack and turning back towards camp. "You think they're still watching us?"
"I do not know."
~
Back at the camp, 'Clint' had soiled himself again, but Spock had thankfully arranged a makeshift bedpan, so clean up was decidedly simpler; and again, didn't require any assistance from James, for which he was immensely grateful.
Spock returned, 'Clint' clean and draped once more over his shoulder.
"I can't tell you how glad I am that you're strong enough and willing to do that without me," James said, giving his mushroom stock a stir.
"So you have said."Spock ducked back into the shuttle, quickly returning to kneel next to James in the dirt beside the campfire.
"We need some kind of grate to put over the fire, I have no idea how you can just hold this pot forever."
"My species' muscle density is significantly more than your own."
"Yeah, but if we could leave the soup to boil on it's own, then it'd free us up to do something else, carving spoons or whatever. Eating protein chunks with our hands is one thing, soup is quite another."
James watched Spock stand and walk into the shuttle without a word. A moment later, there was a loud, wrenching noise, and Spock stepped back into the open with one of the metal covers for a console in his hand.
James laughed. "That'll work." The cover had several holes and gaps in it for the different buttons that had once been an elaborate interface before fire had melted it all unrecognizable.
Setting it beside James, Spock wandered into the fog along the carved ravine of their crash site, eventually, he returned with four, fair-sized rocks. Placing them in a large square around their fire, Spock lifted the cover and placed it back over the fire.
James set the pot on it and let go. It held strong, bubbling merrily, letting him sit back and massage his arm. "That looks great."
"Depending on the alloys present in the metal, some warping may be expected."
"Spock, my arm feels like it's about to fall off, I don't care how mutilated it ends up looking, as long as it works."
Spock nodded, his eyes watching as James massaged his sore bicep.
James looked down at his hand, puzzled. "Something wrong?"
"No."
James looked back up at Spock again and remembered. "Oh, damn. I'm sorry, I completely forgot about your hands this morning. Are they okay?"
"They are healing sufficiently."
"Why didn't you remind me?" James asked, reaching out for one.
Spock held it out, after a moment's pause. "You expressed reluctance on more than one occasion. The massage is not necessary for their recovery; it only speeds it."
"That's only because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." James squeezed each of Spock's fingers in turn, ignoring the way the other man's breathing sped up noticeably.
"Your concerns are appreciated but unwarranted."
"Alright then. Whenever you need this, just tell me, alright?" James looked up at Spock, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
"I shall obey."
James ignored the way he shivered at Spock's tone of voice. By his own admission, it was nothing more than a biochemical reflex. Attaching any extra meaning to this wouldn't be doing either of them any favors.
~
Over the next few days, they fell into a routine. They spent mornings exploring the forest around them, collecting any useful supplies they came across before returning to cook lunch and spend the afternoon talking and playing whatever games James managed to come up with.
So far, they had two considerably different games to chose from. One, James drew a large circle in the dirt, and they proceeded to see who could knock the most pebbles out of the circle by flicking larger pebbles at them. They didn't play this often, as James had a significant advantage being the only one without bandages covering most of his hands.
The second, Spock had created a circular grid out of a large stone and some dark, red clay they had found. Watching Spock draw the precise lines onto the smooth surface had been fascinating. The rules to moving their separate pieces around the board changed frequently as they worked out the kinks to the game play.
'Clint' had yet to show any signs of improvement; however, changing the dressing to his wound showed it was healing quickly. The speed at which this and the cut over Spock's forehead had healed made James wonder at how necessary the bandages over Spock's fingers were; but the other man insisted, asking for hand massages at regular intervals, every meal.
James himself had long since foregone applying the bandages to his injured ankle. Sitting on a log by the fire, tending to Spock's hands before dinner, a thought occurred to him. "You know, I could keep doing this once your hands are better. If you want."
Spock looked up at him, unreadable as usual. "That would be illogical."
"I don't know. It doesn't hurt to get a little extra circulation help sometimes, and it's kind of nice, sitting together quietly, doing this for you."
Spock nodded slowly. "Your offer is appreciated."
James smiled at his friend. "Good." He patted Spock's knee as he finished, reaching for the food. "Now, let's eat. I'm starving, and I'd like to go bathe before it gets too dark." He had insisted on going out after dark once, and nearly gotten hopelessly lost coming back. Thankfully, he'd been close enough to camp that Spock had heard his frustrated cursing and been able to direct him back to camp.
Apparently, low-light vision could be added to the list of superior abilities Spock's species had over James'.
~
At the stream by himself, James didn't bother with pretenses of cleaning first anymore, simply undressing and climbing into the water before taking himself in hand. The first go was always quick. Spending the entire day, looking, wanting what he couldn't let himself have with Spock. The most base images always took him quickly to the edge and over it, gasping and trembling as the water washed over him.
"Fuck," He sighed happily, squeezing the last dribbles out before getting to the business of cleaning everything off. He let his mind wander, wondering what it would be like if they were never rescued. If no one was looking for them, maybe they would be trapped here. How terrible would that be?
James couldn't remember his life before, he only remembered Spock and their metal cabin in the woods. Coming home to find Spock working on one project or another. They still hadn't successfully found a solution to their limited supply of watertight containers. Most recently, he had found Spock attempting to create a paste of plant-matter that he could use to glue two leaves together with. They would know tomorrow morning after the paste had dried if it worked.
James smiled as he thought of the little crease that appeared between Spock's pointed brows at each failed idea. The man didn't show his feelings often, and James lived for the little cracks in the mask he seemed to wear at all hours.
Clean as he was going to get, James took his time wrapping his fingers loosely around himself and imagining his friend. This time, the fantasy more elaborate, sweeter. Spock kissing him. Spock holding him as James wanted to hold Spock. The two of them falling easily to James' bed, kissing and touching. James imagined taking Spock's length in hand, stroking firm and even. Spock's face would open to him, gasping in pleasure as James tangled their fingers together above Spock's head. Spock would wrap a hand around James' cock, gripping and squeezing with those sensitive fingers.
Stroking quickly at himself in the shallows, James moaned as he imagined the fierce, almost burning-hot touch of Spock's cheek against his. Twisting his wrist, James pumped his hips up, closing his eyes and moaning Spock's name. Panting harder, James let himself fall, pushing himself over that edge, imagining Spock would be there to catch him as they fell together.
Shuddering in the warm, sleepy glow afterward, James cleaned himself up and dried himself off, gathering his damp clothes and making his way back to camp silently.
Knowing it was only a fantasy was starting to eat at James' thoughts, but he wasn't sure how to ask; and if Spock didn't feel the same, there was no where else to turn if things got awkward between them.
~
The next morning, James padded outside to find Spock hanging several pouches along the side of the shuttle.
"Oh, did it work?" James asked, excited.
Spock lifted a finished pouch from where it was tied securely to his belt. James wasn't sure how, but he could see the triumph in Spock's eyes. "Indeed."
"That's fantastic." James accepted the pouch, examining the neat seal that glued the two leaves together. There was no way to set the pouch on the ground, but it would hold water nicely and hang easily from the ship for storage.
"These will be ready for use in approximately 20.26 hours."
"That's great, Spock. We should celebrate."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Spock said, his eyebrow climbing, but James could tell he was just as excited.
"Let's take the morning off, just spend the whole day hanging out, being lazy. We can really slow-roast some of the mushroom with those nuts you found yesterday. Give it a nice smokey flavor and have it for dinner."
"I accept your proposal. A day of rest would be welcome."
James smiled. "Maybe we can even agree on a set of rules for that board game and play a few rounds."
"I am amenable to your suggestion," Spock said, following easily as James dragged him away from the last of the pouches and setting them across from each other at the board.
"Would it not be beneficial to begin the meal before we indulge in play?"
"Oh, fine, go cook. I'll just sit here and draw on our pieces until you're satisfied." The last time James had volunteered to help with making anything more difficult than soup stock, he'd only managed in burning his fingers and accidentally putting the fire out before Spock shooed him away.
By the time Spock rejoined him, James had created a completely new game. Each piece having it's own name and abilities. Spock was a dutiful student though, and they soon were playing game after game as the smell of their food filled the air between them.
Chapter 3