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spirkme915 · 1 year

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for the spirk song drabbles: hounds of love by kate bush! 💜

so, uh, i’m apparently really really bad at drabbles? i swear i tried to make this short and that just…didn’t happen.

this is more like a mini-fic. aos-verse, no content warnings, just a lot of feels and pining. this song screams pining spirk! thank you for sending it 💙

mini-fic that’s supposed to be a drabble under the cut:

James T. Kirk is not a man to be trapped or held.

The Enterprise’s captain is, admittedly, kidnapped and taken hostage more times than the average Starfleet captain, but to remain a captive? Never.

There are many things Spock has learned about Kirk in the two years they’ve served together on the Enterprise - that he prefers his coffee black and his whiskey neat, that he remembers the name of every member of his crew and (conveniently) forgets regulations, that he celebrates successes and mourns the loss of life. But it is this aspect of Kirk’s personality that intrigues Spock the most:

James T. Kirk refuses to be caught.

The origins of that drive are not a mystery to Spock. The captain’s personnel file is both heavily redacted and does not account for large spans of time, but it is the captain himself who fills in the blank spaces. Spock comes to learn about the abuse and neglect over late nights spent on reports when a mission goes bad. He picks up the threads of trauma in unfinished sentences when they sit with a chessboard between them. He weaves together the narrative through Kirk’s insistence on always carrying rations, around the penchant for self-sacrifice, and in Kirk’s flinch when Winona Kirk comms her son.

This knowledge is, admittedly, becoming a problem for Spock.

Not a problem in the sense that it is his responsibility to see to the welfare and safety of a captain who values others more than himself. No, Spock embraces that responsibility and treasures the trust Kirk holds in him. He has found a new equilibrium at Kirk’s side, a renewed drive. A shared purpose.

The problem arises in Kirk’s hand circled around Spock’s wrist or the brush of their shoulders as they walk down the Enterprise’s corridors in deep discussion. The problem sparks at the edges of Spock’s psionic field, Kirk’s mind reaching for his. There is a a compatibility between them, one that has rooted itself at the center of Spock’s mind and refuses to be denied - their potential for a bond growing every day, tying them together in a way that would be irreversible. A permanent bond Kirk would not want.

Therefore, on this, Spock will never act. He knows all too well that James T. Kirk will belong to no one but himself.

“That went much better than I could’ve expected,” Kirk says. His hair is mussed from running his fingers through it, his dress uniform unclasped at the top, revealing a sliver of skin turned silver in the moonlight. Kirk presses his shoulder into Spock’s and smiles. “You saved my ass in there.”

“I was not aware the Zeppelian heir to the throne had threatened your gluteal muscles, Captain.”

Kirk’s laugh is automatic - loud and bright.

Spock suppresses a smile, yet allows satisfaction to ease the set of his shoulders. To coax that uninhibited sound from his captain is an honor greater than their success with the newest Federation members tonight.

It is not uncomfortable once Kirk’s laughter fades into the nighttime air and silence falls between them again. They’re seated on rocks next to the lake at the center of the capital city of Zeppel. The lingering blue in the sky reminds Spock of San Francisco, but with the scattering of stars in a foreign configuration, the Enterprise a distant pinprick of light above the horizon.

The treaty ceremony concluded hours ago - moving swiftly into a celebration - and they’re sheltered in a cove, music and laughter from the celebration a whisper carried on the breeze. A fluted crystalline glass dangles from Kirk’s fingertips, long empty and never refilled.

“Seriously, though?” Kirk says. His gaze drifts from the water to Spock. “Thank you. I had no idea how to handle it when they insisted only a marriage between me and the heir would finalize the treaty. I’m used to strange requests, and I’ve done some pretty off the wall things to finalize a treaty, but that one...” Kirk grimaces. “Not happening.”

There are no caveats to that statement - “... unless it’s with the right person” or “maybe later.” It is a definitive statement of fact - Kirk will never bind himself to another.

Kaiidth.

“Then it is fortunate my research on Zeppelian culture uncovered how vital loyalty is to their social structure, and that your oath to Starfleet superseded their request.”

“Their cultural adherence to loyalty is, as you would say, fascinating. It seems incredibly inflexible, though. Do you find it logical?”

“In a way,” Spock says. “Honor, respect, and honesty are at the core of their daily existence. While those traits may not lead to wholly logical actions, they provide a shared moral foundation. That is eminently logical.”

“They trust each other.”

“I believe they do.”

“Do you trust me, Spock?”

The question is unexpected; his answer requires no thought.

“Yes.”

“And I’d like to think that there’s honor, respect, and honesty between us.”

“There is, Captain.”

“Therefore, loyalty. You know, between us.”

Spock’s eyebrows furrow unbidden. While he and Kirk can frequently convey meaning and intentions through few words - occasionally, with merely a glance - there are other times when the leaps of Kirk’s mind are too great for Spock to bridge the divide. This is one of those times.

He is aware Kirk is working up to a point, but is unclear what it could be.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Okay.” Kirk sets his glass aside then turns in toward Spock. His blue eyes are nearly as darkened as the sky. “So tell me, what would you have done if Zeppelian society wasn’t built on loyalty? What if there had been no other choice but for me to either marry the heir or dive bomb the treaty?”

Spock restrains a frown. “As that is not what came to pass, I see no need for such conjecture.”

“Well, I do. I mean, you swore an oath too - to Starfleet, to our ship, and our crew. And, knowing my luck, it’s possible a scenario like this will come up again. So. What would you have done?”

He hears the question Kirk is actually asking - where would his loyalties have lied?

It should be an easy answer.

There are regulations and protocols. A formalized system by which the first officer maintains their duty to the mission, ship, and crew at all times. It is a formalized system that Kirk eschews on a regular basis, but never without a valid reason - this much Spock knows about his captain too. Therefore, if Spock had chosen to bypass regulation and take alternative action, Kirk likely would have approved. It is not solely he who trusts Kirk, Kirk’s trust in him runs just as deep.

Beyond regulation and the path he did choose, however, his first thought when the Zeppelian heir proposed to Kirk was to take his captain and run. It was not logical, not protocol. It was instinct. Raw, protective (possessive?) instinct.

If the Zeppelian culture was not built on loyalty and Kirk had been forced to choose between marriage and nullifying the treaty, Spock would have whisked him off the planet without a look back.

He holds Kirk gaze and considers his words carefully. “A treaty can be renegotiated. The captain, however… He cannot be replaced. A starship runs on loyalty to one man.”

“A starship, Spock? Or you?”

As Kirk’s first officer - effectively just as much a tool and a resource for his captain as the ship - he wants to argue they are one and the same. But they are not. Of course they are not.

Spock opens his mouth. Closes it.

He does not know how to answer.

Kirk holds the silence, holds Spock in a piercing gaze, then arches a rounded brow. “I’m going to give you a minute to think about that one.”

Kirk stands then and steps toward the lake. There is no possibility of Spock restraining his shock when Kirk unfastens his dress tunic and summarily drops it onto the beach. Even less of a chance when Kirk bends down to unzip his boots, kicks them off, then removes his socks. At Kirk’s hands on his waistband, working the clasp open, Spock can be nothing but sure what his captain intends to do next.

He inhales sharply and has just enough oxygen in his lungs to say, “Captain -”

“It’s Jim. I’m about to go skinny-dipping, so we’re definitely off-duty.”

“Jim,” Spock accedes. “Are you certain this is wise?”

The light of two Zeppelian moons shines down on the tilt of Kirk’s lips, highlights the gleam in Kirk’s eyes.

“Wise? Probably not. Necessary? Oh yeah.”

Kirk sheds his dress pants as well, then his regulation underwear, and Spock should look away. He really should.

It is not the first time he has seen Kirk naked. However, it is the first time outside of averted eyes during decontamination or a stolen glimpse crossing to the showers after sparring. It is the first time Kirk - Jim - has stood before him unabashedly, as if he is inviting Spock to look.

So Spock does, his heartbeat racing out of his control.

The “minute” Jim gave him to think on that question has long passed, and yet Spock remains silent.

It is you, he thinks.

He is driven by loyalty to one man - this man - and he would sacrifice himself without hesitation to ensure the universe did not lose Jim’s inherent light.

Jim brandishes a smile then takes to the water, immersing himself, his intrusion spreading ripples that fracture the stars mirrored on the surface. Spock inhales sharply and doesn’t follow.

He will not chase what does not want to be caught.

Jim reappears off the shore, slicking the water out of his hair. Silver moonlight hangs on his eyelashes as he looks up to the sky.

“You know, Spock… Loyalty, honor, respect, trust… I don’t doubt for a second that we have that in spades. But honesty? It would be a hell of a lot easier for us to be honest with each other if you could be honest with yourself.”

Spock tips his head. “I do not understand.”

“I’m right here,” Jim says. It sounds like a plea. “And I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to run from me.”

A spark flares at the center of his mind. Spock shivers, smothers the light.

“Jim,” he says, his voice laced with a hesitancy he did not know was there. “It is not I who is running.”

“You sure about that?”

No.

Quite suddenly, he is not.

What would he have done? Where do his loyalties lie? He has swept those answers to the side, taken a step away when their shoulders brushed, retreated from the warmth of a hand around his wrist, and shielded himself against that light at the center of his mind.

All of it because of fear.

He has left so he is not left behind, but why would he behave so with this man of all men?

The lake spreads out behind Jim like a cape of stars, a universe of pain that he carries on his back, and yet he’s always held Spock close.

Jim has earned loyalty, honor, respect, and trust.

He deserves honesty.

With Jim, there is nothing to fear.

Spock sheds his dress tunic, his boots and socks. He leaves all else in a pile next Jim’s discarded clothes and enters the water.

James T. Kirk is not a man to be trapped or held. He is a man to be treasured, protected. Loved.

Jim slips his arm around Spock’s waist and Spock stops running.

#spirk #spirk fanfiction #k/s #k/s fanfic #my fic #pick a song request #thank you!#this was a really fun break for my muse #isthisamew

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