engagements (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2017-03-30 08:38 am
engagements) wrote in bakerstreet2017-03-30 08:38 am
Entry tags:
Officially unofficial unofficially official
 Dating...isn't what you'd consider the two of you doing. You're just close. Close enough to spend time together, do things you both enjoy, eat together, talk about problems, cuddle, and kiss, possibly. And you don't do most of these things with other people. Okay. Okay, so maybe you are dating. But do you need to disclose this fact to everyone else, or at least acknowledge it amongst yourselves - If you even realize it, that is. It's possible this whole "a couple" status has snuck up on you. Theoretically, at least. ...how did that happen?
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no subject
And what did that mean? What did any of it mean?
He hadn't even noticed as the talks started to trickle down, Giuythx making their excuses to read the PADD in their own time and come back in the morning with any additions or changes. They looked over at Spock (who, strangely, only seemed to feel more inebriated with the passing time instead of less) and then over to Jim before clapping their hands together and insisting upon them both getting to bed.
The hall was mostly deserted, but two servants were called for, their hands joined together, fingers twined as they led Jim and Spock to the room that would be theirs for the length of the talks. Standing outside the door, they stroked each other's arms in a default gesture of fraternal closeness as the metal swung open and revealed a room that might as well have been on Orion for how decadent and sensual it was. All of which was lost on Spock as he instead took in how impractical the silk-like sheets were for regulating body heat. How unsupportive the plush mattress (just the one, giant one, as Jim had suspected) looked in the center of the room. How useless the few flickering candles were for navigating the space, especially when there was what sounded like a water feature somewhere in the dark corners of the room.
Nevertheless, he walked in. Stumbled, more like, as his coordination was hampered worse than he'd thought by the saccharine drink. The servants smiled and gave them a brief tour of where the amenities were (which Spock ignored as he searched out the small pond and spent the rest of their visit inspecting the light purple water). Once completed they gave them both a wide grin and wished them a pleasant evening.
It was only once the door shut and they were alone that Spock stood and looked over at Jim, considering.
The fact that he was drunk was likely clear at this point. But regardless of that fact, he held himself up straight, hands behind his back. Face neutral but eyes narrowed just a bit too much to be entirely normal.
"Do we touch in excess?" he decided to lead off with. Which was odd because it wasn't really the primary question in his head nor the most important one he'd fluttered through in the time he'd had to stew on this potential discussion. Nevertheless, he pressed on. "For friends. I have been attempting to quantify the instances of physical contact between us as compared with others, however the fact that I am not always in your company leaves your statistics with an unacceptable margin of error."
Trust Spock to do drunk data crunching.
His face scrunched up, just a bit, as though his hangover headache had started early. But that hadn't been it. No, he'd had another troubling realization. And at the moment, he simply didn't have room for all these questions in his mouth to be voiced at once. He didn't know if he had enough remaining consciousness to get through it all, either. But he pressed on, all the same.
"For you. For you and me. On my end the numbers are...clear. Objectively larger than any other member of the crew. Or family, considering the lack of...certain outlaying data points." Like his mother. He shook it off. "Is that inappropriate between friends? Or...significant?" His face scrunched once more and the most important question came back to him, out of the fog.
"Did you mean what you had said, before?"
And that was about as good clarification as Jim was going to get.
no subject
Besides, it wasn't like they were tricking them into a bad deal, so he felt a little more justified. It was only a little white lie, no more than that.
It was with a sense of relief that he followed the two servants that led them to their bedroom. The decoration was... honestly, both what he expected, and not. Jim felt his own cheeks warm slightly, but he bit it back and followed the servant as they explained the room's amenities, smiling and thanking them as they finally left. He took a deep breath and sighed.
His eyes flickered up and he turned around when Spock's voice broke the silence, almost surprised to realize that he was there. He stared at the question, almost perplexed, silent for a good while as he spoke and finally pursing his lips and lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
"Not really. I don't think we touch too much, anyway. I mean— all that it matters is that it doesn't bother either of us. It doesn't bother me. Does it bother you?"
Of all people, he knew Spock would say so if that were the case. That he would protest or at the very least speak to him honestly and ask him to refrain from touching him so often, and Jim would be more considerate. But Spock had never once complained, nor had he shown any kind of discomfort, so he never saw any reason to stop or hold himself in check.
The last question had him raising an eyebrow, as he made his way to a table by the wall, kicking off his shoes and setting down his things on the table. "Which part of what I said?"
no subject
"I do not mind," he said easily, completely unbothered by the situation as a whole. But, the more unbothered he realized he was, the higher the tension in his body ratcheted. He should be bothered. Shouldn't he? He should be bothered that Jim had invaded his realm of personal area so effortlessly. Without him even noticing.
But he wasn't. And what did that indicate?
Spock followed Jim's lead as he dwelled on it and walked over to a table parallel to his to remove his shoes and unload his phaser and tricorder onto the top of it. It took longer than it normally would thanks to the fact that his vision was swimming, but he managed to do it with minimal embarrassment on his part. By the time he was finished, however, he was dismayed to realize he hadn't had any new epiphanies regarding whatever was going on between him and Jim. And, if anything, the new question his captain asked only made the confusion worse.
Depending on his answer, of course.
"All of what you said," he didn't specify at all. But, realizing belatedly how unhelpful that was, he clarified a bit more. "More...More with the...Specific comment about my smile. You had called it 'a sweet little thing'." It sounded foreign in his mouth and almost as soon as he'd said it, he wondered if even asking at all wasn't showing his own hand regarding what was on his mind.
Chocolate and it's related chemicals were a wretched experience. Why would humans ever voluntarily put themselves into this level of inebriation?
"I do not...Mean. I do not mean to ask whether your terminology was..." He paused in his attempt to back track, not entirely sure what he'd meant at all. A moment later, he moved closer to Jim and gripped him by the shoulder, attempting to make himself more plain.
"Did you mean it, when you said you enjoyed seeing my smile? When I smiled at you?"
no subject
The process of divesting themselves of their items was quick and the silence easy enough, and Jim for one didn't mind the pause. They often had silences like this, neither awkward nor uncomfortable, moments where they had nothing to say, or what they had to say simply could —or had to— wait.
When Spock finally answered, Jim stopped where he was, paying attention like what he was saying was of the utmost importance. And it was, evidently. Jim's gaze still fell for a moment, only lifting when Spock came closer, a hair of tension making his shoulders square a little straighter when Spock's hand landed there.
"Sure I do," he offered after a moment's pause, sketching a smile as he looked at Spock. "It's a nice smile. Even when it's not quite a smile."
no subject
Jim's smile.
Unlike his own, Jim smiled wide and open. Even his small, side smirks had something wild about them. Something untamed that Spock could never quite understand but found fascinating all the same. And this one was no exception. Even if he found something about it just a bit...off. Not that it was false. But perhaps that it just wasn't...bright enough? Was that the correct way to see it? It would have to suit, for the moment.
Spock moved into the aura of heat Jim's body provided, their bodies not touching but only just barely. The closer proximity brought Jim into better focus for Spock. Easier focus. His eyes drifted, locking on Jim's smile and holding it there as his hand released his shoulder and moved to trace up, toward his chin.
"I enjoy yours as well," he admitted, letting his hand stop somewhere indiscriminate between Jim's throat and his ear. It was an intimate contact different from the ones they'd shared before but not so much outside of the same family that it rose alarms. Perhaps it should have. Spock continued to stare at Jim's mouth a second longer, then met his eyes.
"I am pleased when I am able to cause you to smile. At me. Near me." He wasn't blinking, mind whirring almost visibly despite how inefficient it was. Trying to come to some sort of conclusion and missing it by a mile each and every time. Still he kept at it. And finally, he seemed to decide upon something and said it with a level of gravitas a drunken Vulcan should not have been capable of.
"Our friendship," he announced to Jim and the empty room. "It is...unique. Both among Vulcans and among humans, I believe. And I value it, greatly. You are aware of this fact? I value you and our closeness greatly."
Dean... I think your destiel slipped into this tag js lmfdlkf
Then again the same could be said for every place and every time, when Jim would likely find reasons why they should avoid this kind of talk, no matter where or when.
He wasn't uncomfortable, exactly. He was always at ease with Spock, even when things were a little less relaxed or a little more awkward, but there was something about this particular moment. Jim didn't often think of Spock as unpredictable, but right now it felt as though that was exactly what he was, and he knew full well the fault was in whatever was in that sweet drink.
Stopping himself from sucking in a breath too sharply or moving away when Spock reached out, he blinked his eyes slowly, taking a few seconds to look up again. Spock's hand was impossibly warm against the curve of his jaw and neck. For a moment, it felt almost like more than he could handle.
"I am, I'm... I'm aware," he nodded a little shakily, lifting a hand up and curling it around Spock's arm, somewhere between his elbow and his wrist. Over the clothes, not touching skin.
"Spock," he said, tone calm and even, trying to bring Spock's usual awareness back to the surface. Hoping to clear his head. "Are you feeling alright? There was something in that drink, wasn't there? You should... sleep it off. We can talk in the morning."
Dean Kirk is a great dude
Sure, the idea that there was something in the drink was troubling. But in a distant way. Spock had already consumed it, so there was no undoing that damage. And, frankly, he felt a bit better for having drank it, so whatever the damage was couldn't be so dire. Or at least, that was his thought process as he stared into Jim's blue eyes and replayed the last few moments of their meeting with the ambassador. What he could recall clearly, at least.
"Our friendship is valuable to me, Jim," he continued in such a terribly serious tone, it almost could have passed as sober. If the context of what he was saying weren't so completely 'out-there' as far as Vulcan late-night chats went. "I have not had many friends in my life. Indeed, prior to you I had..." His face scrunched a moment as he considered it. Counted once, twice, and then came up with the precise answer of: "Few."
His grip on Jim tightened, his gaze all the more intense as he leaned forward, impressing upon his captain how crucial this conversation was.
"You. You and...Doctor McCoy. You are both incredibly important to me. But you," he hurled, almost accusatory, "You are...different from other friendships I have had. I allow you liberties I would not allow others. And you...do the same. Do you not? We have established that we both do not mind this familiarity. But it is...different. From how we treat others."
His eyes narrowed again, obviously trying to think and failing. "I feel as though this is... indicative. Of something."
lmadsaldk what an asshole name though
"Spock," he started, taking a slow breath, then exhaling audibly. His head fell down a little, and he shook it, smiling faintly as he put his hands on both of Spock's upper arms. "Of course I allow you liberties. Your friendship is important to me, and also— I trust you. I trust you to be there to support me, to be the solid weight keeping me grounded sometimes. And I care. You're kind of weird sometimes but I like that. I feel... comfortable around you. Like I can be myself."
And Jim could count with the fingers of one hand how many people he had that made him feel that way, with one or two fingers to spare.
"It's indicative of a good, solid relationship. Right? We know each other. We understand each other. That means a lot to me."
Could you imagine that spawn? Omg.....
"I feel comfortable around you, as well. The...farce of a romantic relationship is an easy one to maintain." He isn't blinking nearly enough as he watches Jim's face closely and then ducks in just a bit closer, nearly putting his forehead against the other man's. He stops an inch or so away, the warmth radiating between them like something alive.
Everything feels more vibrant, now. Maybe it's the drink. Maybe it was the low-lighting. But Spock wasn't going to think too hard about any of it. He couldn't even if he had wanted to; all his mental facilities were focused here, on Jim. It seemed...natural for that to be so. Right, even. Spock exhaled lightly and half-shuttered his eyes.
"Close prox-...pr... Closeness like this is difficult with others. But not with you," he explained, still stuck on the idea, even with Jim giving him the explanation to wave it off. "It means a lot to me as well, Jim. You mean a lot to me, as well."
But finally, he shook his head and let it go, taking a small step back. His face shifted, blanching just a bit as he figured out something that was more pressing than the confusion he'd been so consumed by. Something that would need to be dealt with immediately.
"I feel unwell."
no subject
True to form, he stumbled over the bigger words, and Jim had to bite on his own cheek as to not snort or laugh at him. He nodded in something of a light agreement, glad to let the matter drop there, if nothing else then because clearly Spock wasn't in a state to be having serious conversations. To add to that, Jim was almost sure Spock would regret all of this in the morning, once he was sober again and back to his senses.
The announcement at least successfully cleared Jim's minds of all previous topics, and his focus shifted to Spock's well-being almost immediately. He let a hand linger on Spock's arm, tipping his head a little as he looked at his expression for a moment. "Do you need to throw up or would just lying down help?"
Rule one: When you have the spins, don't lay down
"I recalled the word. The proper word. 'Vomit'."
Privately pleased, he straightened up and moved over toward the bed, thinking that laying down was probably the best course of action, at this point. He moved, trying to sit on the edge and nearly missed it by a good four inches. It was a struggle to recover, but he did. And, gracelessly, he then flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling. Unaware that he had crossed the bed horizontally, thus making it completely useless for Jim.
"The effect of....this chemical. It should be short-lived. Vulcans have very effective metabolisms..." Ignoring the fact that he was half-human, of course.
He lay there a moment longer, the pale look on his face only getting worse as he stared up at the darkness with unblinking eyes. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and looked over at Jim with a very serious looking frown.
"I have adjusted my assessment. Upon laying down...the vertigo I am experiencing...it has increased the... the negative...of...th-" And that was about as far as he could get before he straightened up, turned his head, and was sick over the edge of the bed.
spock pls
"Aren't you just so smart," he huffed, rolling his eyes a little as he tried to help Spock onto the bed. "Yeah, maybe it will, but that doesn't mean we can't make it pass faster or less painfully." And Spock really didn't look good at all. If he looked that pale and sick for much longer he might actually ping Bones for help.
Before he could even think about that, though, Spock was suddenly turning around and throwing up right onto the floor, over the edge of the bed. "Oh, shit— come on," he crawled onto the bed, kneeling next to Spock and placing a hand on his back as he waited for him to be done. "We need to get you cleaned up. Probably drink some water, too. You have to hydrate."
Don't call Bones. He'll be judgey on both of us.
"I believe water would be...helpful," he agreed, making absolutely no secondary motion for it until he remembered that there was no place near the bed that would have it.
He struggled away, swaying as he got off the bed and walked over to the wall where the replicator should be. It wasn't difficult to locate and to find water. However, it did take a rather large amount of scrolling as the majority of the 'frequent items' were all to do with coitus.
The minute the water materialized, he took a few large gulps in of it, both to clear out his mouth and to hydrate after the vomiting. That alone seemed to clear his head some. Enough that, looking at the mess he made, the ghost of shame started to come over him.
"I...I apologize," he said. "I can summon someone to the room to assist with cleaning." Nevermind that he was still slurring, just a bit. But how coherent did one need to be for something like this?
Spock deserves it.
Basically, a scenery he never thought he'd get to see Spock in, not even in his wildest dreams. But hey, at least he wasn't recording it or taking any pictures, so that was something. A show of his own personal growth, if nothing else.
"I can..." he trailed off as Spock struggled to his feet and went to get water for himself, rendering Jim's offer to do that for him entirely moot. "Never mind."
Sighing quietly, he rose to his feet, glancing briefly at the mess Spock had made before he turned his attention back to his first officer. "I'll take care of that," he shook his head, putting a hand on Spock's back, the other holding onto his arm as he guided him to a chair nearby. "Just take a seat here for a bit, can you do that? I'll get someone to clean that up, then we'll get you into bed. Some rest will help you."
He's suffering enough
Spock frowned, deciding with drunken conviction that he wanted it warm again.
His hand reached out, grabbing Jim's before he could walk away. The sudden intimacy of it surprised him for a moment before Spock's brain caught up and informed him that he had been the one to initiate it. Of course. And of course it wasn't really an intimacy. Humans. They did this. And he was half human, after all.
His hand tightened on Jim's, refusing now to let it go.
"I am sorry for the trouble I caused you," he said in a sober, apologetic tone. "It is my duty to remedy this. But you are...an exempl-...exemplar-...admirable leader and captain. I am...gratified that I am able to serve under you."
He frowned, then, as though remembering something unpleasant.
"I do not believe that I have informed you of the high esteem I place on you. Nor do I believe that I have made apologies for the errors of my past," he recalled, face actually broadcasting how troubled that thought made him. "I have...often doubted your command. It was unwise to do so." He looked up at Jim, eyes wider than normal and earnest.
"I should not have marooned you on Delta Vega."
no subject
"You didn't cause me any trouble, Spock," he said, smiling faintly at his first officer. He listened as Spock went on, not moving nor interrupting, then only once he was done, and Jim was sure he was done, did he pull up a chair from nearby, taking a seat in front of Spock, and catching his hand between both of his own.
"No. You shouldn't have," he answered honestly, though not with any real upset. "But... I'm glad you did. If you hadn't, then I wouldn't have met Scotty, nor would I have run into Ambassador Spock. And then... well, we definitely wouldn't be here, trust me."
They'd both be long gone by now. "So if that's your way of apologizing, shelf it for another time. I don't hold it against you. I never did. Well, maybe for the first few hours. But all is forgiven. Alright?"