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startrek-phoenix · 2 months ago

Text

Painful Reality

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1568

Read on AO3

“Would you trust me to take care of you?”

That meaning, too, was clear. If Jim said yes, he was surrendering himself to Spock for the remainder of the night. Letting go of command, letting go of the persona, letting go of the requirement that he be constantly prepared, constantly on alert. The flare of fear in his belly wasn’t unexpected, but he squashed it ruthlessly. He trusted Spock above all else. He wouldn’t do anything to suggest otherwise.

“I would,” he said. “I will.”

Spock shifted and kissed him again, right at the base of his spine. “I know what it is you miss from the Academy, Jim.”

***

Returning early from the strange 'amusement park', Jim struggles once more to relax.

That sounds like a painful reality.

-Spock, Shore Leave

For a moment, Jim had really considered staying. Staying with Ruth, reliving the sweetest memories of his youth, the gentle lovemaking and balmy summers of their time together, a nostalgia unspoiled even by the bitter recall of their eventual parting. Spock had even given his tacit permission; if he’d been unhappy with the idea, he’d never have left Jim alone there.

But it wasn’t the same. Now the shock had worn off, now the explanation had been given, it was near-impossible to see her as Ruth. He’d looked behind the curtain, spoiled the magician’s trick. She was no more the real Ruth than the Black Knight had been a nobleman, and he couldn’t delude himself. That part of his life was gone. There was no going back.

He’d paced the land a while longer, thinking as deeply as he could without summoning a replica. Why was it he wanted to go back? Was there anything, really, that he had at the Academy but lacked now? In truth, he had a great deal more than he’d had at the Academy. He had command. He had Enterprise.

And he had Spock.

Scotty seemed surprised to see him when he beamed back aboard, but he didn’t ask questions. Perhaps there was something in Jim’s manner that told him not to, perhaps he simply knew his friend and captain well enough to know when he wouldn’t want to talk. Either way, Jim was relieved, and he offered his chief engineer a smile as he left. A silent promise that he hadn’t left because of any trouble. If Scotty ever decided to take a break from his beloved technical manuals, the planet would be waiting for him.

Spock, too, seemed surprised to find Jim at his door. He raised an eyebrow, though he let Jim in without question, and he joined him at the chessboard when Jim sat.

“Do you wish to continue our game, Captain?”

“Not just yet, Spock.” Jim couldn’t explain it, the contemplative haze he seemed trapped in. What was it he wanted? What was it he lacked? “How do you think Bones is getting along with Yeoman Barrows?”

Another raised eyebrow, but Spock seemed willing enough to speculate. “I should imagine they are getting along adequately. Miss Barrows is an intelligent woman, despite her interest in the doctor. They shall have plenty of conversation topics available to them.”

“I’m not certain conversation was what they had in mind, Mr Spock,” he said, which earned him a quiet huff from his favourite prude. Though perfectly willing to engage in sexual behaviours himself, Spock hated nothing more than being forced to discuss it aloud. It was entirely unclear whether this was a side-effect of his upbringing, or simply Spock’s own personality.

“I had thought that you intended to remain planetside,” Spock said, neatly changing the subject. “May I ask what changed your mind?”

“You may,” said Jim, neatly ignoring Spock’s eyeroll.

“What changed your mind, Jim?”

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “It all suddenly seemed… insubstantial. Unreal. I wanted… I needed something that was real.”

Spock watched him for a long moment. Jim tasted his own heart in his throat.

“I need something real, Spock.”

Spock rose silently, with all the grace of a cat. He moved until he was standing behind Jim’s seat, hands on his shoulders, fingers pushing just slightly into tense muscle. An echo of what happened - what Jim had thought was happening - on the bridge that morning. Spock’s clever hands pushed and pulled and caressed their way over Jim’s back, soothing away aches and worries week’s in the making. Jim started to slump, a wordless groan building in his throat, and Spock finally spoke.

“I could work more efficiently if you were lying down, Jim,” he said. He trailed a finger down the back of Jim’s neck. “Would you use my bed?”

“I would,” said Jim, throat slightly dry. He walked over dazed, as if he were in one of those Vulcan trances, and settled himself on his stomach. Spock tutted at him.

“Shirt, Jim.”

Oh.

Jim slipped his shirt off and resettled. He could hear Spock’s footsteps behind him - Spock must have been doing that on purpose, wary of startling him in this strange mood - and hid his face in the pillow. Something about this… He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, not with phasers to his head or knives to his throat. No one had ever been so capable of utterly destroying him than Spock.

He trusted Spock unconditionally.

He felt the bed dip under Spock’s weight, felt him arrange himself so he had best access to Jim’s body. Spock lowered himself enough that he was almost seated on Jim’s backside, except Jim could tell he hadn’t let even half his body weight fall on Jim. He ought to have said something, urged him to relax more, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“You have been too long on duty,” Spock said, working him over again. He seemed lazer-drawn to every strain and knot. He pushed just beneath Jim’s shoulder blade and Jim hissed. “You are Human. You require regular rest.”

“I’m fine, Spock,” he said into the pillow. He wasn’t sure if Spock’s swift movement to his lower back was punishment or not, but he moaned all the same. The stiffness intensified and then suddenly released; the relief was overwhelming, heady, made him dizzy.

“You deserve regular rest,” Spock said. His movements were gentle now. Every ache was soothed; he merely caressed Jim’s bare skin. Jim wondered what it was he felt in those Vulcan-sensitive hands. “You are as worthy of care and rest as any other man aboard this ship.”

“Spock…”

He was silenced as Spock pressed a kiss to the centre of his back. What could he say in the face of such treatment? He lay, silent and boneless, letting Spock kiss down the line of his spine. It was easy to imagine the look on Spock’s face, eyes half-lidded, mouth twitching into that slightly crooked smile he sometimes wore. That was why he allowed it, the unbalanced focus on him and his body; because it was so easy to remember that Spock wanted it. Was enjoying it.

“You are worthy of being taken care of,” Spock said. “If you will not do so yourself, I will do it myself.”

“I don’t need-” He broke off in a yelp as Spock nipped at his flesh with sharp teeth, then lapped apologetically at the place with his roughened tongue. The meaning was clear; objections would not be tolerated.

“Would you trust me to take care of you?”

“I would,” he said. “I will.”

Spock shifted and kissed him again, right at the base of his spine. “I know what it is you miss from the Academy, Jim.”

“What?”

“The Academy is guarded, watched over, protected. You rested knowing that you were safe.” There was sympathy in Spock’s voice, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Jim could not have accepted his words if they were born of pity. “Here, you are the last line of defence. You watch over the crew. You feel as if you cannot rest, for their sake.”

“I…”

“I believe your mind conjured Ruth because you recall her as a protector, a healer, as much as a lover. Someone who would watch over you as you watch over the ship.”

Jim swallowed. It was true that Ruth had been both guard and lover to him. She had been solace, a balm after the hate and rage that had characterised the last days - months - of his liaison with Janice. He had trusted her with his dreams, which at that time were rarely pleasant. He remembered that he woke, sometimes, to find her cradling him, attempting to soothe him.

“I am not she,” Spock said, with slight amusement, and Jim felt it too. No, Spock certainly wasn’t Ruth, or even like her. For one thing he couldn’t imagine Spock lounging in flowers - not without scientific reason, at least. “I am not she,” he said again. “But I will watch over you as you rest. If you would permit it.”

Was that what Spock wanted tonight? Jim had thought…

But it made sense. All at once the exhaustion overwhelmed him, and for the first time in far too long he lay there without pain. He could sleep.

“And what will you do?”

Spock didn’t answer immediately. He lay down first, on his stomach too, half his body on the bed, half draped over Jim like a weighted blanket. Jim had to admit that he liked it, the gentle pressure, the proof that someone was there.

“I will meditate,” he said. “It will be restful to me, but I will be aware. If there is danger, I will attend to it. If difficulties arise, I will solve them. You may rest, Jim, knowing that I have the watch.”

Jim swallowed thickly. “Alright. Alright, Spock.”

And he slept.

#phoenix_rose #star trek: the original series #star trek fic #jim kirk #spock #spirk #kirk/spock #post-episode s1 e15 Shore Leave #Established relationship #also on ao3

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