bakerstreet | Officially unofficial unofficially official

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[meme] shipping

Officially unofficial unofficially official

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?

Easy peasy: comment with those prefs and info, cuties.
Reply to others.
THREAD. ♥

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"Well, good then," Jim nodded, glad to leave the matter at that. At least the matter of touching, anyway. That Spock might be surprised to realize how often they touched each other, Jim could accept. He just didn't want him to feel uncomfortable over it, or over the very knowledge that it happened often. Hopefully this added awareness wouldn't make him any less at ease whenever they reached out for the other.

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."

Spock blinked, his hand not moving as he took in the answer and the sort of anticlimax of it. That hadn't entirely been what he'd meant in the spirit of the question. But it just went to figure that, with his linguistic skills compromised, that would be what Dean pulled away from it. He opened his mouth, trying to rephrase and get to the heart of what he was looking to find out. But before he could, there was something that distracted him entirely away from it.

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."

Of course it hadn't been what Spock had meant, and Jim should've known it. Actually, maybe he did know it. Maybe he simply avoided looking into a deeper meaning to that question simply because the answer had too many ramifications, all of which neither of them were in a state to discuss right now. Spock, particularly. Besides, this was neither the place nor the time.

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."

He shook his head, dismissing the idea outright. "I am able to have the conversa-. Convers..." He frowned, uncertain why his lips were unable to form the word properly. But, if it was impossible, the logical course of action was to simply change what he needed to say. "I wish to discuss this now, Jim. It is important to me."

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."

The way Spock slurred and stumbled over his own words was almost funny. It would be funny, actually, if not for the topic he was apparently set on seeing through. Jim didn't look or feel as amused as he should, and honestly he wished for nothing more than to wave all this off and tease and poke fun of Spock for his current state, but instead he felt himself frozen to the spot with both Spock's hold on him and the words he was saying.

"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."

Spock accepted the answer, unable to rebut it at the moment with anything even halfway resembling logic. So he nodded, and considered that before dropping his hands and enjoying the feeling of Jim's overly warm, human palms through the fabric of his sleeves.

"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."

Jim's eyebrows stayed up on his forehead, a slight arch as he kept waiting to see what Spock was trying to get at. Nothing terribly coherent or logical, no. At this point Jim was sure Spock was drunk (or some variation of it), so it wasn't like he was counting on big words coming from the Vulcan.

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?"

"I do not need to...to..." He struggled with the sentence both because he couldn't think of the proper word for 'throw-up' and also because he wasn't entirely sure that he was telling the truth by saying he didn't need to. "I have consumed a...an inebriating substance. I do not believe that...that vomiting will assist with that." He paused, and then looked over at Jim with something closer to a smile than he'd managed in quite some time.

"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.

It didn't even cross Jim's mind that lying down might do more harm than good. It always helped him in the past, but then again he didn't have the same system as a Vulcan, and he might've never gotten this affected by a single drink. He didn't even remember Spock having that much. Whatever was in that glass really must've been especially potent for him.

"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."

Spock heaved a few times, hating the feeling but liking the knowledge that he was at least purging his system of this drink. "It is a poison," he announced in a way that would have been dramatic, were he not still bent over the side of the bed, sounding mutely miserable. The nausea seemed to pass, though. And Spock straightened up, facing Jim with a drawn, exhausted look on his face.

"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?

Jim had to bite back the urge to snort and chuckle at the whole scene, really. Sure, he was still worried and wanted Spock to feel better, but in some ways this reminded him of crazy Academy parties, where he or other colleagues of his ended up a drunken stupor heaving in their bathrooms, or some corner or even a bush out on the street.

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."

Spock sat heavily in the chair, sipping some more of the water as he stared balefully into the darkness of the room. Sitting, he lost the warmth of Jim's hand against his back. He could still feel it, a bit. The ambient temperature of the room was warmer than the ship but still cooler than comfortable temperatures on Vulcan. The space where Jim's hand had been was cool, now. A spot on his spine, just behind his heart.

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."

Jim was about ready to leave Spock sitting and calming down for a while so he could get someone to clean the mess, but his train of thought halted when Spock reached out and caught his hand. Unusual. Especially intimate for Spock too, he knew that. Still, he didn't say anything to it, nor did he pull away from that hold.

"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?"

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Officially unofficial unofficially official

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Dean... I think your destiel slipped into this tag js lmfdlkf

Dean Kirk is a great dude

lmadsaldk what an asshole name though

Could you imagine that spawn? Omg.....

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Rule one: When you have the spins, don't lay down

spock pls

Don't call Bones. He'll be judgey on both of us.

Spock deserves it.

He's suffering enough

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