#for Surak's sake guys

[maeraevokaya]

*long sigh*

[spocks-husband]

it's rotten work.

Words: 1,438

Genre/Tropes: Fluff, a bit of hurt/lots of comfort, humor

Summary: Spock is afraid of thunderstorms. (Also, what the hell are The Amish??)

Notes: Ah, yes, another self-indulgent Spirk fluff fic that no one will like, imported from my AO3 <3 you guys love me so much /s

Spock couldn't help the unnerved sensation that crept its way down his spine as they left the diplomatic hall of the strange new world he and his husband had found themselves upon. Something in the curious, static humidity that hung in the air made his skin crawl-- it was something he, unfortunately, knew well, something he'd gone out of his way to avoid since his first childhood interaction with it all those years ago. Yet, here he was, and though he tried to consider the present circumstances from perhaps a scientific or analytical perspective, he could not. It was a feeling he could not control that had begun to sweep through his body, one he had encountered many a time, yet never one he could hold in such a tight grasp as he could the other facets of his natural emotions. No, this was not something that could be cleared away with logic and reasoning-- perhaps even deliberately so. It was a purely human feeling; the sensation of irrational fear.

In Spock's mind, fear was an irritating-- albeit somewhat evolutionarily necessary-- sensation that, for the most part, was irrelevant. He had been in thousands of life-threatening situations over the years-- he was a galactic hero, for Surak's sake-- but in each one of them, he prided himself on remaining calm and rational enough to handle the situation with clarity and precision. In all honesty, though, knowing that only made him feel more-- What was it, embarrassed? Guilty? Ashamed?-- at the current terror he knew would soon grip him. 

"Something the matter, Adun?" Jim asked casually upon their return to their temporary residence on Tonitribus VI.

It was a strange planet they'd found themselves on; while its people, known as the Vetus, were well aware of warp travel and certainly had the potential to be just as industrially advanced as Terra had become by the 23rd Century, they made an active choice to live simply and without technological advancement. Some sort of philosophical or religious decision from what Spock had gathered, and while it was rather illogical he supposed he respected it. Jim had frequently compared them to a similar Earth movement known as The Amish, but Spock was regretfully unfamiliar with this group; he made a mental note to research them later (perhaps one of the 21st-century holoprograms produced by the antediluvian television company TLC on the subject could be of use?). As a consequence of these beliefs, though, along with the federation's desperation to make a good impression on this society for fear they would deny new Dilithium trade agreements, The Starship Enterprise had to leave promptly after dropping off the diplomatic team, thus leaving Spock and James at the mercy of Vetus hospitality; thankfully, however, they'd found their arrangements-- a comfortable, cottage-like building with the traditional furs gracefully removed from the floors and walls per Jim's request (he hadn't wanted his husband to be any more uncomfortable, after all) quite satisfactory. 

"I am alright, Jim," Spock said slowly, putting down his satchel and removing his cloak as he entered the building. Kirk hummed softly in response.

"If you say so..." the human responded, dropping the subject with a hesitant tone as he walked over to the large, curtained window, looking out over the fields and mountains of Tonitribus VI. The sky was an overcast, dim shade of its usual vibrant purple, and the wind blew through the plants fiercely. "Looks kind of like Earth, come to think of it," he mused, his hands behind his back as he examined the weather in a way that Spock had observed many older American men do-- most notably his father-in-law, but that was beside the point. Something Jim's nephew had called the 'Midwestern Dad Pose', which Spock was beginning to believe was perhaps not an official term. "Looks like a storm might be coming in... if that's how their weather works, anyways," Jim chuckled at his own joke. 

"Indeed," Spock responded quietly as he prepared a kettle of tea on the stove, his back turned to Jim in an attempt to hide any slips of fear that may escape into his outward expression. "I suspect there will be... a thunderstorm." 

"Really?" Jim asked excitedly, perking up with a grin that sort of reminded Spock of the way Terran dogs looked when they became interested in something. "That sounds great! God, I haven't seen a thunderstorm since we were last in Iowa..." he paused for a moment. "Wait, were you with me for that trip?" He approached Spock from behind, watching him prepare their tea with mild interest. 

"... I was on the trip, yes," Spock said slowly. "But... I had returned to the ship that night." Jim raised a brow.

"Why's that?" He asked tenderly. It was odd, really-- even after decades of being together, platonically or otherwise, Spock still found himself expecting Kirk to judge him. He never did, though. There was only one person Spock had ever felt he never had to change for. Only one person who he couldn't disappoint if he tried. Only one person-- gentle and sweet and nostalgic in his aura the way an old photograph is when you find it at an antique store, the yearning to know its history and the bitter sting of knowing that perhaps you will never understand it to its fullest extent, charming and kind with his goofy smile and his bright eyes. He felt like coming home. James.

"... I have not encountered a thunderstorm since a childhood visit of mine to Earth I had gone on with my mother," Spock began carefully, watching the tea kettle with sudden interest. "Since this initial experience, I have found I possess a... distaste for thunderstorms. I... do not like them." Spock couldn't help feeling a bit desperate to avoid admitting the exact emotion he knew was within himself. Thankfully, as always, Jim caught on. 

"Ah... you're afraid of thunder?"

"... Affirmative," Sock said stiffly, avoiding his husband's eyes as he poured the tea. Jim hummed in response. 

"Well, that's alright," James responded simply, tucking a stray hair behind Spock's ear to satisfy his eternal need to be touching his Vulcan partner's cold skin. Spock gave him a slightly puzzled look. 

"You... do not view this as a weakness?" Spock asked slowly. "It is clear you find interest in the storms, I do not want to discourage you from pursuing--"

"It's not a weakness," Jim responded calmly, adding a few spoonfuls of sugar to this tea, stirring it in slowly as he spoke. For once, Spock did not tease him for adding a sweetener. "It's natural."

"It is... human," Spock added slowly, the words themselves seeming unsure as to what their intention was.

"It is," Jim responded with a soft smile. "Come on, let's watch a holoprogram. It'll be nice-- I'll take care of you tonight," Jim kissed Spock softly on the cheek. 

"I... do not need to be cared for," Spock frowned slightly. "I am not a child."

"True," Jim nodded. "But I'd like to take care of you if you'll let me."

There was a pause. 

"I... I shall indulge your human need to comfort those you care for," Spock said, subtly embarrassed. Jim chuckled, gently bemused that even now, Spock's pride would not permit him to simply ask for his husband of several years to soothe his fear. It was something they needed to work on, Jim knew, but that could wait. They had all the time in the universe together. 

Despite Spock's frequently tensed form and the occasional need for Jim to rub a tender hand across his back to calm his racing heart, their evening was rather pleasant. For the first time, perhaps in all his life, Spock felt almost... glad... to allow himself such vulnerability. He and James held hands all through that night, and when they awoke the next morning, still on the couch, with slightly aching backs and two half-drunken mugs of now-cold Earl Grey on the coffee table, there was no regret between them, no embarrassment. In a way, they spoke their own language when they were together, and such words did not exist to them. Nothing existed to them outside of each other. Nothing needed to. 

There was only one question still lingering between them as they awoke the next morning, and as they ate their breakfast in comfortable silence, Spock really couldn't resist his curiosity.

"Jim?"

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" 

He would never admit it, but Spock did adore when Jim used his professional title when they were alone together; there was a peculiarly satisfying irony in it.

"... What are-- The Amish?" 

[nsmtnz]

So hey guys, spoiler: this episode is total nonsense. Basically, the Enterprise is at A Planet. Why? It’s never explained. But almost as soon as they arrive, a bunch of sentient-lava aliens kidnap Kirk and Spock, spontaneously generate them two new BFFs in the form of their personal long-dead historical Faves, and pit them against four Black Hats from Space History. White Hats vs. Black Hats, Space Gladiatorial History Edition.

Oh, and did I mention Kirk’s Space History BFF is Abraham Lincoln?

Yeah, this is that episode.

Same, Sulu. Same.

Yes, we’ve seen this before. Frankly, we’ve seen this done better: The Gamesters of Triskelion at least had some interesting world-building and a great female character in it. This time? The plot amounts to the two teams throwing rocks and sharpened sticks at each other and having vague, totally-unanchored-to-the-story conversations about the nature of Good and Evil. That’s why the lava-monsters are doing all this, by the way: apparently they evaluate the founding philosophies of passing alien races by… pitting them against one another in guerilla combat.

Even Temperance Brennan thinks you’re the worst anthropologist in the history of the universe.

Setting aside the minor quibble with the idea that “Good” and “Evil” are somehow equal, fundamental human

philosophies

, this is a totally nonsensical way of evaluating alien cultures. I mean, blah blah relativism, but wouldn’t it be simpler to just call up passing ships and ask them to explain themselves? Plus, we’re never told whether the lava monster is evaluating

Human

ideas of Good and Evil (capital letter, for once, appropriate!) or like, human

oid

ideas of the same two ideas. Team Good includes two Vulcans (one Spock and the other the ancient Vulcan philosopher and Doomed Pacifist Surak) and Team Evil includes two human (Genghis Khan and a genocidal psychopath from the dark and mysterious Early Twenty-First Century that Star Trek canon likes to dance around and never explain directly) and two aliens, one of whom is Kahless the Unforgettable, Klingon culture’s most significant and legendary figure.

Bonus image so that I don’t have to ever play the dialogue from this scene ever again, even in my head, but it cannot be allowed to pass without mention. Look how done with this our girl Nichelle is. Look at her dead, dead eyes.

Aside: we can say a lot about wartime propaganda informing the interpretation of Klingons as evil and barbaric vs. the Noble Warrior Poets we know and love from later outings, and the relative, overall shittiness of the portrayal of Klingons in TOS vs. every later portrayal of Klingons, but I’d like to take a moment to register my outrage at this, our first experience of Kahless, who later is seen and portrayed and discussed as a very different and much more nuanced character than we get here. Here, we get this asshole in really bad brownface makeup, who is all about dishonourably stabbing everyone in the back. 

I know this is like, the racist human mental image of Kahless, but come on. Dishonour!

The problem with this so-called contest of philosophies is that the parameters are meaningless. The lava-monsters don’t want to understand the differences between Good and Evil (because apparently a species advanced enough to generate living beings out of pseudo-inanimate matter has never heard of an artificial cultural binary), it wants to see which is stronger, but both its contenders and its rules for the fight are constantly changing and totally fail to establish themselves as a solid binary. Nobody “evil” thinks of themselves as Evil. And the two teams are fighting for different outcomes: the Black Hats for “power” and the White Hats for the safety of those they’re sworn to protect.

We’re supposed to see the victory of the White Hats as some meaningful statement about the fundamental superiority of Good for Good’s Sake, but it’s really, really not; it’s the victory of rational minds over a fucking irrational conversation on par with the one you have about immigration policy or income tax over Thanksgiving dinner, which as we all know, is a battle no one can win, because you’re having two different conversations. You can only escape.

Subscribe: iTunes | Android | Email | Google Play | RSS | Download

[From The Not So Much The Neutral Zone Podcast]