Here is the next little ficlet in my k/s series...title and italicized quotes are from "Breathe (reprise)" by Pink Floyd. As always, this is un-beta'ed and can be read as a standalone. But if you haven't you should read the whole series here/on my ao3 and let me know what you think! I'm so glad fic writing is filling my Tumblr hiatus until I have new stuff to make on there. I did give in and sneak my fictional BFF Yeoman Rand in here because I love her you guys I can't even help it
(this is totally my interpretation of the Kirk/Rand dynamic, from my own Tumblr. I caption TOS screenshots with Honey Boo Boo quotes because I either had a stroke of genius or some kind of stroke and came up with that idea.)
--Home, home again. I like to be here when I can—
James Kirk is used to being alone. He’s been alone most of his life, with his mother off-planet, trying to raise a hellion through comms and video links; with his brother gone for work, off to better things, leaving him dirtside and not meaning to never let him forget it but nothing’s harder to ignore than being alone, except being lonely. He’s been that, too, but you get used to it especially when it only changes when you let it and he wasn’t so inclined to do that, not really.
The point is, Kirk had one friend who grudgingly became his friend and didn’t actually throw up on him, and he’s pretty sure he’s that guy’s one friend too. Unless booze is a friend and he doesn’t think it counts. And then he finds himself trying
to get someone else to be his friend, trying so hard that he has no idea what else he can do
to get Spock to stop being twitchy around him but before he can fully manage that he realizes it’s not just friendship he’s after. Which makes him
twitchy and so, so uncomfortable with himself because he feels like a dick and resolves never to tell Spock or anyone else ever even under pain of truth serum or death
. Because it’s got to be a passing thing, and besides, he’s pretty sure that Spock sees him like he sees yappy little dogs whose every action screams “pay attention to me, please!”
Except, as it turns out, he is wrong on all counts.
Nothing about this is in any way a passing thing and anyone who could just want a passing thing from Spock is fucking crazy, he realizes during their first official date. He also realizes he is such a girl and there may as well have been a corsage involved. God
Since they’re on a ship with 400 crewmen desperate for gossip, the date is dinner and a movie in his quarters. And of course Rand walked in on him frantically cleaning two hours before, saw the pitifully small pile of civilian clothes on the bed and figured everything out immediately because she has evil powers, for which he is considering forgiving her because she suggested he wear his one sweater (it’s navy and “really soft, in case your date who I know nothing about decides he wants to lay his head on your shoulder while you whisper sweet nothings.”)
He is pretty sure he will never live this down.
“I find this film factually inaccurate on a number of levels,” Spock says; he’s made it an admirable seven minutes into Troll 2
before that criticism bursts out. Kirk can tell he’s been holding it in, really
trying, as if saying ridiculous things are ridiculous is going to make him change his mind about this whole thing and find someone else’s name to “doodle all over every available surface, metaphorically speaking
.” Goddamn it, Rand.
“Is that so,” Kirk says through a mouthful of popcorn before he realizes he’s doing it.
Spock’s eyes are fixed dead ahead on the film projected on the opposite wall. “No substance had been discovered at the time of this film’s creation that were capable of transforming human flesh into molecular structures identical to that of any common plant—‘
“Wait, are you saying there is now?”
Spock shakes his head and it is stupidly endearing. “And furthermore, I fail to see what milk has to do with any of this. I suspect this child may be experiencing delusions, as Grandpa Seth is clearly no longer alive.”
Kirk does not laugh, he doesn’t, but only because this is easily the best conversation that will ever happen to him and he wants it to keep going for as long as possible. He offers Spock popcorn and thinks it would be so awesome if their hands touched in the bowl and then resolves to go drown himself as soon as possible because he cannot continue to exist being this lame. “It’s a complicated film, Spock, a classic.”
Spock looks at him, wide eyed. “With respect to your tastes, I find that extremely unlikely.”
Kirk shrugs. “It’s hardly the most unlikely thing that’s happened to me lately, but I like it.” He turns back to the movie as the Waits family is on their way to Nilbog. Little Joshua is having a grandpa-vision in the van and after a few comfortable seconds of silence Kirk feels a warm hand gently touching his own and he cannot believe his own stupid luck.
” The kid screams, and Kirk turns over his hand and impulsively laces his fingers in Spock’s. For a second Spock’s hand is still and then it squeezes his slightly and Kirk knows that even though his choice of entertainment will always be crap, the choice he’s making now is the only one he wants.
“This was my brother’s favorite movie when we were kids, before he left,” he says. “We fought a lot and I hated him for leaving me alone with—well, that’s a conversation for another time, but it’s a good memory I have of him.” Kirk shifts a little, looking at the floor. “I’m not really sure why I picked it. You probably hate it, right?”
Spock turns to look at him, the projector he borrowed from the ready room casting colored shadows on the planes of his face. “I find it difficult to follow,” he says, his dark eyes focused.
Kirk smiles, a lazy grin. “Am I distracting you?” In a moment of daring he very gently moves his thumb, the roughened digit rasping over Spock’s hand but he doesn’t pull away and that
is a victory.
“Almost always,” Spock says, and Kirk delights in the imprecision that he alone gets; loves the fact that he is seeing Spock like this, practically dizzy from the weight of his hand. And that’s enough for him to want to lean in closer so he does, tentatively so he doesn’t freak Spock out because he hasn’t done this in any meaningful way in so long, has been alone in his own head and heart for even longer and he can’t bear the thought of pushing him away when he’s bearing the weight of the tension between them and pulling it tight, an intangible cord. His lips touch Spock’s very chastely and he is on fire
, strung so tightly all at once that he holds himself back from pouring everything he knows he could into it and he shifts, instinctively opening his mouth just enough to gently capture Spock’s upper lip with his teeth because he can’t help it—
--and Spock kisses him back
, leaning into it as the hand that was holding Kirk’s goes up to his shoulder for balance. Kirk can tell that his grip is deliberately loose and he so wants to know what it takes to make him squeeze
and things really can only improve from there, they really can.
Whatever all the others didn’t stop to notice in him long enough to keep them doesn’t matter so much, sometimes.
The next morning when he gives Rand the sweater to wash, he actually blushes when she smirks all-knowingly. Yeah, he is so gone.
--it’s good to warm my bones beside this fire--