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Spirk (with a small dose of Pinto)

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Flash Fiction Fridays

Pinto Flash Fic January 04, 2019

Zach didn’t know why he was so nervous. This was all going to work out.

Wasn’t it?

God. It wasn’t. What the hell was he even thinking?

And yet here he was. Sitting in a car two blocks away from Chris’ house. What did he expect? Chris to be peering out the window of his house looking for him? Chris’ house was secluded and he wouldn’t even notice Zach parked there anyway.

Besides, Chris wasn’t there at the moment and wouldn’t be home until later. After nine.

God, he hoped he wasn’t home or otherwise this was going to fuck up his plans badly.

Zach had contacted Chris’ parents to know for sure their son was going to be home in LA, as he hadn’t wanted to take any chances, after all, there’d been plenty of times he’d thought to go see Chris and then remembered he was…somewhere.

Backpacking in Spain, Christopher?

Okay, yeah, he could have just asked Chris. ‘Hey, you going to be home on such and such day?’ Easy Peasy. Who says that anyway? But then there’d be no surprise, would there? If Chris knew he was coming it just wouldn’t work out the way he wanted it to work out. 

And anyway, Chris thought Zach was in New York still.

Zach had just returned from New York. And wasn’t that a weird thought? He’d left LA, thought he wouldn’t be coming back. He loved it. He did. But there was so much there he hadn’t thought he’d ever have, ever could have. Moved to New York to start a new life. He loved New York. Zach had been born and raised on the East Coast, after all. Met a man who he’d thought he might spend the rest of his life with. Even bought an apartment in Manhattan. With that guy.

If he had never quite gotten Chris out of his system, out of his heart, well, that was acceptable. He could see Chris sometimes, touch him sometimes, see that smile that made his stomach flutter, hear that silly little giggle of his. And it was enough.

Zach thought.

Then he and Miles started talking about leaving New York. Miles wanted to get more into acting than modeling. And he didn’t think Broadway, stage work, was for him. They’d made the decision to sell their place in New York and move back to LA. 

Zach didn’t know if it was the right decision. At the time they’d talked about it, Chris was seeing that British actress, Annabelle. Zach didn’t know much about her or them, but the pictures he’d seen online seemed like they were getting close. But it had seemed that way when he’d been with the Ice Princess, until he wasn’t with her anymore.

And he’d realized, then, that what Chris was doing with her or anyone was not his business. He was with Miles, he firmly reminded himself.

Miles had hinted around that with this big move they should make another big move. And Zach had tried not to panic. Marriage was good. Great. For other people.

But him and Miles—

Then it had taken so long to sell their place. Zach changed his mind about making the move a dozen times.

Finally they got an offer. Maybe a little low, but they took it, because Miles really wanted to go. Then just as they were packing up, his boyfriend came to him to say he had something to talk about.

Zach dreaded that it was about marrying again. And then he thought maybe Miles wanted to tell him he’d cheated, because the thing was, Zach had found the condom, so he knew.

Miles telling him he was going to move to Paris instead, because he’d gotten a better offer, a much better offer for a modeling contract than he’d get for starting out acting in LA, was not what Zach had expected. At all.

And Zach heard himself saying, “Paris? I don’t want to move to Paris.”

Miles had gotten this strange look on his face and then he’d said, “I’m not asking you to.”

That was the end of them. After years together. Miles gave him excuses. Stuff about him sensing Zach’s reluctance to marry him, that there was always someone else, and many other things that Zach barely listened to, he’d made them himself before. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. He found he didn’t care. He was surprisingly okay with it all.

His New York friends wanted him to stay. He almost did. No one in LA seemed to care whether he came or not. He hadn’t even bought a place. He was going to have to rent.

Then he’d got the text from Chris late one night just as he was about to decide to stay in New York after all.

I know this is crazy, but I miss you.

Nine words. All it took was nine words.

He got on the plane to LA.

That was then, of course. And when he’d first made it to LA he had no idea the giant turn his life would take.

When Chris had said he missed him, he’d really meant it.

Zach had barely made it through the door of Chris’ house before Chris had been kissing him. The desperation there was something Zach would never forget.

They’d fallen into bed together, like it was the old days, the old times of LA. And they hadn’t gotten back out for three days.

Chris had been delighted he was no longer with Miles and trying to hide that, but not terribly successful at it. And Chris, for his part, had ended things with Annabelle. Zach didn’t ask any questions because he really hadn’t wanted to know.

They’d been seeing each other ever since.

Chris had talked about maybe Zach living with him when he first got there, but Zach thought something like that was too big for both of them, at that point anyway, and so he’d rented a house pretty close to his old neighborhood. And Chris hadn’t mentioned them living together again.

It ended up being kind of better that way because Chris was gone so often, his acting career getting more and more important, his A List status more than assured. Still more often than not it was him who took care of Chris’ dog. When Zach was around.

He found himself returning to New York more often than he’d thought he would at first. Offers for plays still kept coming in and Zach liked doing them. There were plays in LA, sure, but it wasn’t the same, and the offers didn’t come as often.

So he’d find himself in hotels rooms doing the plays.

The third one he’d done was only for four weeks but when he’d come back, Chris was waiting for him, not at his own home, but at Zach’s rental. He’d let himself in, they both had keys to each other’s houses, and he’d been waiting for Zach, sitting on the couch that had come with the house, holding a glass of amber colored whiskey.

“Hey,” Zach had greeted him, setting his suitcase down in the front hall. He hadn’t expected him to be there, he hadn’t said. The car service had only moments before let Zach out in front of the rental and he hadn’t even noticed one of Chris’ vintage cars out front, like he normally might have. But he was fucking tired.

And okay, maybe just a tad grumpy, because he was feeling vaguely annoyed that Chris was there without…well not permission, of course not, but…without telling him.

But Chris was scrutinizing him over the glass of whiskey and the reprimanding words stuck in his throat. Something was up and Zach had tried not to feel dread. But damn, the old fears were rearing up.

Zach walked over to the couch and sat down on the arm of it.

“What’s up?”

“Are you sorry?”

Momentarily nonplussed, Zach said nothing. He waited for Chris to elaborate.

“Because it seems you are.”

The irritation flared. “Want to clue me in, Christopher?”

“About moving back here,” he blurted out, his face reddening. “Because it seems like, I don’t know, you’re always going back to New York. Always doing plays. And Miles—”

“He’s not there, Chris. He’s in Paris now.”

Chris took a drink. “He was there in New York this past weekend.”

“I didn’t know that. I didn’t see him.” And Zach laughed, because really, it was so damn absurd. He’d never cheat on Chris with Miles in a million years. Other way around, buddy. “I’m done with Miles, Chris. There’s only you.”

“Why do you keep going back then?”

“Work. I like it. And, fuck, you’re one to talk. You take so many jobs my head spins. And if it’s not a job, it’s going off on a guys’ trip fishing and camping.”

“You could come with us.”

Zach snorted.

Chris smiled a little then, put down his glass, got up from the couch and went over to where Zach had perched himself. Zach put his hands on Chris’ waist and tugged him near.

“It’s just…I like you.” He laughed and got redder.

“I like you too, babe. And if you give me a chance to take a shower, I’ll show you how much. But, can you make me some coffee?”

And hadn’t that been a great night. His irritation and Chris’ unexpected intrusion had faded away fast. 

Why was he going down memory lane anyway? Because he was stalling getting out of the car and doing this.

Maybe there was still time to back out. Chris didn’t even know he was home. He still thought Zach was in New York finishing up a play. He’d lied about when the play closed just so he could put this plan into motion. And now…he was having second and third and fourth thoughts.

About everything.

The wine he’d chosen. The music. The fucking suit Chris liked so much. Sure, Chris fingering the lapel of his suit and looking at him in that way he had of looking at Zach like he just wanted Zach to eat him up, during an interview for God’s sake, was burned into Zach’s brain. But would Chris even remember it? So much had happened since then.

The food. God. He’d gone for elegant, but maybe Chris would have preferred a damn pizza. What if he’d eaten with his friends? With the other actors? What if he stopped for fast food on the way?

He loved Chris. There was no question about that. He’d loved Chris before Chris loved him. Zach was sure about that. Way back in their LA days before either of them were anything or anybody.

And he’d left for a new life because Jonathan and any other guy he’d seen in LA just wasn’t enough to get over Chris, to forget how much he fucking ached for him.

Chris had been the one who hadn’t wanted to be ‘them’ then. Chris who was bisexual and liked it that way. He wanted to be with women and men. Commitment was for suckers. Hell, Zach heard him tell Patrick that.

What if he hadn’t really changed? What if he laughed in Zach’s face? What if he got that weird panicked look on his face like he had when the reporter chick had asked him about Mrs. Pine?     

And where had he even come up with this idea from? He was not by nature a romantic guy. He wasn’t. He was a sexual guy, sure. But he didn’t bring anyone flowers and when he gave gifts they were usually of a practical nature.

This was all his brother’s fault. Joe had given him some bullshit about how Chris did appreciate romance and so he should go all out for this. And boy, had he.

Suddenly the ring box was burning a hole in his pants pocket.

He really needed to just do this and consequences be damned.

Zach reached for the car door handle and popped the door open. His legs even managed to shift out of the seat and onto solid ground.

Mrs. Quinto didn’t raise a coward, he reminded himself.  

And all his stuff, other than that burning ring box, that is, was in the trunk. If he didn’t hurry he’d be walking up the street in the dark. So he went to the trunk of the car and clicked it open.

The trek up the incline to Chris’ house wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated. He’d thought he might have to make a few trips back and forth but using sheer will and pluck, he’d managed to carry it all in one trip.

He plunked it down in front of the front door and listened.

Not a peep.

Zach breathed a sigh of relief and fished his key to Chris’ house out of his back pocket. With key turned, he opened the door easily and brought the bags of stuff inside.

“Chris?” he called out just in case.

Nothing.

Wednesday was safely ensconced at Chris’ parents’ house, per arrangement with Chris’ happily cooperative dad. Zach loved the dog but this was his time with Chris.

He looked at his watch and realized he had two hours to set everything up and that included cooking. He’d better get busy.

****

Zach was just putting together the salad he wanted to serve for first course when he realized it was getting close to nine. Scarily close.

And if he thought he was nervous before, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. His heart beat so fast he began to become concerned he had caused himself to have a heart attack.

He picked up the red stemless wine glass containing the merlot he had poured himself earlier to take off the edge.

On the kitchen counter’s edge was the box that contained his destiny.

Okay, okay, he was being way overdramatic. He was entitled, all right?

If Chris said yes…oh hell, he was going to hyperventilate.

If Chris said no…he’d die.

Which scenario was worse anyway?

Chris not showing up at all, probably. Because for all Zach knew, he might have gone out for drinks and he’d be eating this damn meal by himself.

He looked down at himself and realized he still hadn’t put on the suit. Fuck. It was almost time. He’d have to hurry.

Zach picked up the suit and carried it into the bathroom to change into it. All the while his ears were strained to listen to Chris coming up to his house and maybe the door. Had Chris driven? Or had he taken a car service?

How could he not know this crap? He should have memorized every last detail.

Suit on, he left the bathroom and went to the front door. Checked the lock. As far as he knew, Chris always entered through the front door. He’d have to go into his backyard to get in any other way and that seemed way too much trouble.

But if it was too much trouble, that usually meant Chris would do it.

Zach checked his watch. It was now three minutes past nine.

He turned toward the dining room. Flameless candles lit. Okay, switched on. Chris would completely appreciate safety first. Good plates set at the table, gleaming and shining they were so clean. Polished silverware set at the exact correct parts on the table, per etiquette. Okay, so his Mama taught him.

Wine glasses filled and set by both seats. Salad ready. Chateaubriand for two.

Zach straightened his tie.

His heart seized as he heard the sound of a car door close outside the front of Chris’ house.

Oh God.

And what if Chris was not happy to see him? It’s true he wasn’t generally as prickly as Zach. Okay, yeah, he could admit it, all right? But, well, he just didn’t know what to expect.

Worse, what if Chris brought someone home with him? He hadn’t even known Zach had returned from New York. What if—

The key turned in the door.

It was far too late to run now.

Door twisted open and Chris stood there, wearing his glasses and staring at Zach like he thought Zach was a zombie. Not exactly the reaction he hoped for but at least Chris wasn’t screaming.

“Hi,” Zach said.

“Zach, what are you doing here?”

And he looked past Chris and was relieved to see he was alone at least. No one there to witness his humiliation.

“I wanted to see you,” he said simply.

The blue eyes widened behind the glasses and looked past Zach to the set table.

“You’re in New York,” Chris said, dazed. “Aren’t you?”

He bit back his usual propensity for sarcasm and went for simple. “No. Want to close your door?”

Chris looked at the door, seemed confused and then closed it. He looked a little like a lost puppy. An adorable lost puppy.

He turned back to Zach. “You look really amazing. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“A good thing, I hope?”

Chris blinked. “Yeah. God, yeah. Sorry, I’ve just…today has been kind of challenging.” He set down the bag he’d been carrying, that Zach only just noticed, and came toward Zach, throwing his arms around Zach and touching him, embracing him at last. And holding him tight. Chris had a way of sinking into him when they hugged. Chris tended to awkward hug with people he wasn’t comfortable with. That had never been the way with them. Chris always softened and cuddled into him and Zach loved that. “It’s great to see you. Fantastic.”

“A little better,” Zach grumbled.

Chris laughed then and touched his fingers to Zach’s jaw. “You look so good I want to go right to bed.” He leaned in to kiss Zach then, soft and sweet, and all too brief. He looked at the table. “What’s all this?”

“I made you dinner. There’s a salad and Chateaubriand.”

“Wow.”

“And a…ice cream cake.” He blushed over that and didn’t even know why.

Chris grinned. “You went all out. What’s the occasion?”

“Funny you should ask.” Zach took a deep breath and then exhaled going to where he’d left the ring box. He picked it up and wondered if he had done the right thing having the ring engraved with the Vulcan script for T’hy’la. Was it too corny?

“Zachary?”

He shivered. Chris hardly ever called him that. And when he did it was usually when they were in bed and his eyes were so warm and loving.

He gripped the ring box and stepped over to where Chris stood. Zach held out the box for Chris, who automatically took it. He dropped to his knee.

“Christopher Whitelaw Pine, you are the most amazing, beautiful man, human, I have ever met, known, been with. You’re more than my best friend. More than my brother. More than my lover. Every day I am in awe of you more. I love you more than there are words in any language to convey how deep it is. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Chris said nothing as he opened the lid of the box and stared down at the platinum engraved ring. He rubbed his finger along the edge and then, without a word, handed it back to Zach.

Zach’s heart felt like it was on fire as it surely broke in two. He took the box and closed the lid, coming to his feet. His face felt as hot as if he’d been sunburned.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay. I…I get it. I just…I thought—”

“Zach” Chris whispered.

“No. I mean, it’s fine. It is. Just…” He exhaled again. “Enjoy the steak, okay? I mean it’s-it’s all for you. I need some air.”

He spun on his heels and headed for the front door.

“Zach?”

He wrenched the door opened and walked outside, pretty sure he was going to throw up. How? How had he gotten this so wrong? How had he fucked this up so badly? Was it the gay thing? But he thought—

“Zach!”

Suddenly Chris had hold of his arm and had spun him around. They were standing in the courtyard of Chris’s front yard.

“What is this?”

Zach frowned. “What?”

“If this was a joke, you’ve really gone too far, Quinto.” Chris looked angry. Furious even. But also really, really hurt.

“It’s not a joke. I just…I wanted to marry you, but if you don’t—”

“Don’t?” Chris gave a strangled cry. “God, sometimes I just want to smash your face in.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just wait here. Okay? Can you do that?”

Chris ran back into the house and Zach just stood there, in the front yard, suddenly chilled, holding onto himself, the ring now shoved into his suit pocket.

Less than five minutes later, Chris returned holding a ring box that looked weirdly similar to his.

Zach sucked in a breath. “What-what is that?”

“Can you guess?”

He shook his head.

Chris sighed and looked away, then back to the ring box he held. “I’ve-I’ve had this for a long time.” He opened it to reveal a gold band with a tiny diamond chip around it, it too was engraved and as Zach looked at it, he saw that it said, “Forever Yours” in both Gaelic and Italian.

His gaze flew to Chris. “How long?”

“Since we were filming Into Darkness.”

Zach took the box from Chris and picked up the ring. It was beautiful and from his just eyeballing it, it seemed to be his size.

“I got the words from your-your mom.”

“You did? But you never—”

Chris shook his head, his eyes wet. “I was going to tell you everything. How much I wanted to be…so much more than friends or fuck buddies or the guy you sometimes screw, whatever. I wanted it all. And it was going to be worth everything. No more hiding any part of me. Any part of us. I was so damn in love with you. I was going to tell you,” he said again. “But then you brought Miles. You brought him around to the set and introduced him as your boyfriend and you were so damn happy it seemed, you were grinning from ear to ear. I shut it all down because I had to. It was all…too late.  I lost hope.”

“Christopher,” Zach whispered. His chest hurt. But most of all it hurt for Chris. He couldn’t even imagine how that must have felt. “Why did you give me back my ring?”

“So you could put it on me you dolt, when I said yes.” He smiled through his tears. “Which I do. Say yes, I mean. Where is it?”

Zach laughed, feeling giddy and stupid all at the same time. He took out the ring box, pulled out the ring and seized Chris’ hand, putting it on his ring finger. “They don’t match.”      

Chris took the gold one for Zach and slid it on his. “Yeah, I actually think they go together perfectly.” His eyes were shining. “Kind of like us. If you say yes.”

“Yes.”

“I wondered. Because you never married Miles and…”

Zach put his finger on Chris’ lip. “He wasn’t you.”

Chris grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the house. “Come on. That Chateaubriand smells too good to waste it.”

“And very good wine.”

“And an ice cream cake.” Zach stopped him in the doorway and drew him in close for a kiss. “I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you, Zachary.”

Ramblings January 03, 2019

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Hello My Friends (don’t you wish you were there at that place above)

I wish you Happy New Year once more.

Things are okay. Mother fell yesterday and had to go to the ER but she didn’t break anything, which is indeed very fortunate. She did give herself a painful, sprained knee so sister has her work cut out for her.

Tomorrow, you will finally get to read my Pinto fic as it will debut here on the blog Friday morning. I think you will enjoy it.

Saturday, we will be going to Sister’s house to finally take down her Christmas decorations. Like most of us, she looks forward to having them up, but then can’t wait to have them back down again once the holidays have passed.

Next Friday (the 11th I think it is) you can expect more from the Jim and Spock from my Christmas Flash on here. You will notice that so far they remain a blog exclusive so if you want to read about them, for now anyway, it will have to be here.

I have been updating The Experiment on AO3 and may continue to do so until it is concluded. We will see.

Next week begins the posting of fics for the T’hy’la Bang. I don’t have a specific day, but you can expect the posting of Wonderful Life sometime then.

That’s it for now!

Mirror Christmas, Flash Fic, 12/21/2018

This pair is the Mirror Spock and Mirror Kirk from several chapters of Going Boldly. I had the urge to revisit them and show them together.

J.T.K._(m)_(ar)

Jim turned from his terminal just as Spock stepped inside his quarters.

“You did not attend the holiday party.”

He shrugged. “I got busy. Was comming with Mom for a long time.”

“The holiday party you had a part in organizing.” Spock sat on the edge of the desk. “Is there a problem with your mother?”

“No. Just the holiday stuff. She’s on Deneva with my brother and his family.”

“Your brother?” Spock arched a brow. “You do not mention him. Is he someone with whom you do not keep in touch?”

Jim smiled. “You could say that. He left home when I was a kid. That changed my life forever and not for the good. He can rot for all I care.”

Spock just stared at him, his brown eyes becoming more intense. “Is he someone I will need to take care of?”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Take care of?” He frowned, then shook his head. “No, Spock. You cannot dispatch all my enemies.”

“I can, ashayam,” Spock assured him. “To do so would be my greatest honor. Name the location of your tormenters and they will cease to exist.”

“Er, yeah. Sam’s just a dick, he’s not a tormenter. Not anymore.”

“Past tormentor—”

“Spock, no. I thought you’d be at the party longer. With Uhura.”

“Nyota is still there enjoying herself.”

“I hope you didn’t leave the party to check on me, Spock. It’s not necessary.”

“You are my t’hy’la. My place is by your side.”

“If you were enjoying yourself—” Jim stopped and laughed. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot Vulcans don’t enjoy.”

“Not without their mates.” Spock fingered his beard as he looked at Jim. “There is still so much you hold back from me, Adun.”

“Spock.” He shook his head.

“I know you have your reasons for keeping so many things secret. You are very powerful, for one who is psi-null, in blocking large portions of your thoughts and memories.” Spock reached for Jim’s hand and held on to it. “You still do not trust that I am no threat to you. I worship you. My devotion to you is absolute, ashayam.”

Jim looked down at their entwined hands. “Do you remember when you went to the other universe after the other Jim?”

Spock frowned. “I thought you no longer thought about that time. That you had forgiven me my trespasses.”

“I have forgiven you,” Jim agreed, his gaze rising to Spock. “But no longer think about it? That is not possible.”

“Jim.” The Vulcan fidgeted, looking suddenly quite vulnerable.

“I love you,” he assured Spock.  He brought Spock’s hand to his lips and kissed the fingers there, earning him a shiver. “I do. I think I did even before you betrayed me by going after the other Jim Kirk.”

“I was a fool. I loved you, but you seemed completely unattainable.”

“I was then,” Jim admitted. “I wanted nothing to do with you or anyone. I was convinced you would murder me given the chance.”

“Perhaps then I would have. I would give my life a hundred times over for you. You are my life.”

Jim smiled and kissed Spock’s hand once more. “You are my holiday miracle.”

Spock’s brows furrowed. “We did not get together during the holidays.”

Jim laughed. “I know, babe. The thing is, when you left our universe to go find some pale, ridiculous imitation of me—”

“He was not ridiculous. He was precious and did not—”

“Watch yourself, Vulcan.” His eyes narrowed.

“He can never compare to you, my Adun.”

“I was…furious. Hurt. Betrayed. And I wanted you dead.”

“James—”

Jim got up from his desk chair and straddled Spock’s legs, putting his arms around his Vulcan. “Not anymore, babe. Not anymore.”

Spock kissed him, deep and hard and hungry. “I will destroy anyone that comes near you.”

“I just…I trust you. I wouldn’t be here with you, if I didn’t. But you’re the only one I trust. Probably the only one I can ever trust. And I hope that you really do love me.”

“Beyond belief,” Spock whispered. He pulled Jim close, burying his face in Jim’s chest. “That you even give me the time of day—”

“Shh. No talk like that. It’s the holidays. Why don’t we both quit working and have some fun?”

Spock leaned back to meet his gaze. “You want to go to the party?”

“Do I look crazy? Don’t answer that. I avoided that revelry on purpose. You know that. I could have spoken to Mom another time. Parties give me the—”

“Willies. Yes, I am aware of your odd Terran phrases.” Spock pulled him closer. “And I know why. I will dispatch—”

“Spock.” Jim gave him a look. “By fun, I meant take me to bed and fuck me over and over until I can’t stand up and I can’t sit in the captain’s chair tomorrow.”

Spock’s lips twitched. “That does not seem particularly unusual.”

Jim smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be smug, Vulcan.”

“That should be ‘don’t be smug, husband.”

“Don’t be smug, Vulcan husband. Satisfied?”

Spock straightened, scooped him up and carried him toward their bed. “No, but I will see that we both are.”

“Did I give you permission to carry me?”

“Negative, my worshipped one.”

Jim sighed as Spock carefully placed him on the bed. “I shall have to punish you later.”

Spock arched a brow. “I look forward to any punishment you can dole out, my T’hy’la.”

“Yes, I am your T’hy’la and don’t you fucking forget it.” He leaned up, so Spock could finish removing his clothes. “Show me. Show me how much you love and want me.”

“I will show you repeatedly.”

Jim smirked. “Merry Christmas. Come.” He dragged Spock to him. “I want to unwrap my present.”

Trashing the Tree, Flash Fic, 12/14/2018

James_T._Kirk_Chris_Pine

Spock was coming up the street to his apartment building when he saw a human male struggling with removing a rather large pine tree from inside the building’s foyer out to the sidewalk.

It made no sense to Spock, as the Terran holiday of Christmas had not yet passed, so the human should be bringing the tree inside instead of outside.

Spock walked up the steps and realized he knew this human. Not well, but he knew him. Almost everyone knew James Kirk. He was extremely popular at Starfleet Academy and Spock had him in one of his classes the year before. It did not hurt that he was exceptionally goodlooking by any standards, even Vulcan ones.   Golden hair, blue eyes, pouty red lips. Yes, Spock found him…appealing.

“Do you require assistance, Cadet Kirk?”

Kirk looked at him startled, through the branches of the tree. Even then Spock could see his eyes were wet and rimmed red.

“Are you in distress?” Spock demanded.

“Oh. Um.” The tree rattled and shook and then all of a sudden it lay on the sidewalk at Spock’s feet. “Hi.”

“Good evening.”

Kirk licked his lips. “I, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to block the entrance into the building, Professor.”

“That is currently not my concern.” Spock surveyed the tree. “Forgive me, Mr. Kirk, but is it not traditional to decorate the tree indoors?”

He nodded, then looked away. “Yeah. Well. Yeah. That’s usually how it works.”

“But?” Spock prodded.

“Oh, everything’s just all messed up, is all.” Kirk sagged against the wall of the building. “I’m throwing it away. The tree, I mean. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it, sir. Let me just move this out of your way, so you can get in.”

“I would not have asked had I not wished to know. It seems a shame to waste the life of this tree all for naught.”

“Yeah.” Kirk wiped his hand over his face. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just…I don’t know why I keep believing, you know.”

Spock did not know. “I can assist you with bringing it back inside to your apartment if you wish.”

Kirk sighed. Looked down at the ground. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.”

Spock hefted the pine tree up and then pointed to the door. “If you will open that—”

“Wait, you don’t have to carry that by yourself.”

“Just open the door.”

Kirk opened the door and Spock carried the tree into the foyer. Kirk rushed in after him.

“This tree is too big for the lift. I will take the stairs. What floor is your apartment?”

“Really I—”

“Cadet…Jim. This will be a lot easier if you simply cooperate and advise me where your apartment is.”

“Third floor.”

“Thank you.”

Spock went up the stairs on the right, conscious of Kirk following up after him, apologizing profusely the whole way. Spock ignored him until they reached the third floor and Kirk ran ahead of him, opening a door on the far right of the corridor. Spock carried the tree inside, noticed a tree stand still set up in the middle of the living room and headed there.

“I’m sorry for all this trouble.”

“You do not need to apologize repeatedly.” Spock stuck it in place. “This is a large and beautiful tree.”

“Yeah.” Kirk blushed red. “I, uh, sorry about that.”

“Jim—”

“I mean, about the tree. Being dead. You being Vulcan it probably offends you. I didn’t think. As usual. About anything really.”

“Jim, I would like you to explain what happened to cause you to wish to dispose of this tree.”

Kirk deflated even more if that was possible. “My mom. She had told me she was coming here. To San Francisco and we’d spend Christmas together. It was going to be the first time in years. And I know, I’m way too old for this, but I got a little excited and I went out and got this tree and some decorations and I started planning what we’d eat and just, generally, getting carried away.” He bit his lip.

“She is not coming,” Spock guessed.

“Got it. She contacted me this morning to say, nope, so sorry, Jim. Something came up. Again.” He grimaced. “Something always comes up. Since I was a kid. She was always off planet. Never around. And every time she tells me she’s coming, I believe it all over again like a dummy.”

“I am sorry that she continues to disappoint you,” Spock said. “I do not know her, so I cannot say if she had good intentions or not, but knowing what I do know about you, I cannot imagine that she did not intend to fulfill her obligations when she first promised.”

“I shouldn’t have bought this tree, obviously. No one else is going to be around except me.”

“What about your friend, Leonard McCoy?”

“Georgia.” Jim smiled and shrugged. “And speaking of, I am sure I’m keeping you from Uhura or something.”

“You are not. Nyota has gone for the Winter break as well.”

“And she didn’t take you with her?”

Spock frowned. “Why would she?”

“I thought you two were…together. Together.”

“We are friends. There is no romantic connection if that is what you believe. I admire many qualities Nyota possesses, which is why we are friends.”

“Oh.” Kirk nodded and moistened his lips. Which for some reason Spock always noticed.  “So. Would you…like to stay for dinner?”

“Yes,” Spock said immediately. “And afterward, perhaps, I could help you decorate your tree with the decorations you bought.”

Those blue eyes met his and they were much brighter and lighter than they’d been only moments before.

“I would love that.”

Stuck With Me, Flash Fic, December 07, 2018

Spock

“We cannae beam you up at this moment, Commander.”

Spock closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and tried to focus. “The captain is severely injured, Mr. Scott. Without emergency treatment, he will likely not survive.”

“Spock.”

The hoarse, pained whisper had him flinching, but he did not look in the captain’s direction.

“Mr. Spock, if I even attempted it, your particles would break up in space. We’re working on it as fast as we can,” Scott replied, sounding as though he might cry.

“Understood. Contact me as soon as you have news. Spock out.”

He closed his communicator and glanced toward Jim, who lay bleeding against the wall of the cave Spock had carried his injured body to earlier. Outside, snow fell on this particular nightmare of a planet. He’d bundled the captain up as best he could, but he could see Jim shaking and his teeth chattering.

“Spock, just take these blankets and wrap yourself up in them so when you’re rescued, you’ll be okay,” Jim said, his voice a weak whisper.

“You need them, Captain. You are freezing.”

“I’m gonna die, Spock.”

“No.” He spoke too sharply. He knew that. When they were back on the Enterprise and Jim was all right, then he could reprimand Spock. “You will not die.”

“You heard Scotty. He can’t get me on the ship.”

“They will get you on the ship and Dr. McCoy will give you the necessary treatment and you will be all right,” Spock insisted.

Spock knelt down next to Jim, who visibly shivered. His eyes were dim and pain-filled.

“Spock, please, just take the blankets and stuff and stay warm.”

“No.”

“That’s an order.”

“Court-martial me when we return to the Enterprise.”

Jim closed his eyes.

“Jim!”

He shook his head slightly. “I’m here. I haven’t left yet.”

“And you will not.” Spock reached for Jim’s hand, it was so cold, it was like he was holding a hand made from ice. Spock began to feel despondent. This could not be how it ended. No. “I will add my body heat to yours.”

Jim just looked at him now and didn’t even protest which worried him even more. He placed himself next to Jim on the cave floor, gathered him close and then wrapped the emergency blankets around the two of them.

“I think I should tell you something,” Spock said then.

Jim did not respond, he just sagged against Spock. Breathing, though barely. Spock was beginning to panic.

“I intended to discuss this with you at a more convenient time, but—”

“There may not be any more time,” Jim rasped out.

Spock would not say that. Could not. And he refused to even think that. “I have felt this way for many months. Perhaps longer. When we first began our romantic relationship, I should have told you then, but I held back for fear…it does not matter. I love you, Jim. And I want you as my bondmate.”

Jim looked at his through pain-filled eyes. “Bondmate?”

“Yes. In fact, I would bond with you right now.”

“Spock—”

Spock knew he was taking a big risk, but he was desperate. He could not, would not lose Jim.

He put his hand on Jim’s cold face. So cold. Too cold. He spread his fingers out.

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. Parted and never parted. Together and always.”

He was in Jim’s mind. Even as he entered, he felt the dimness, the weakening. Jim was fading. Everything that was Jim was dying. Going. Spock was nearly too late.

Jim. Come to me.

Nothing.

T’hy’la, come.

Again nothing. Jim’s consciousness faded more. Spock focused.

James. Reach for my hand.

In Spock’s mind he created an image of himself and an image of Jim. They both wore their uniforms, though Jim’s shirt was ripped and torn, covered in way too much blood. He held his hand out toward Jim.

Jim’s gaze flicked to Spock’s face and then down to his hand.

Yes, ashayam. Take it. Bond with me.

Jim took a step forward, then looked down at the blood on his shirt then back up at Spock. He extended his hand again toward Jim.

Choose me.

Jim stumbled forward, his hand reaching out and Spock took a step closer to him, seizing hold of his hand, closing his fingers into Jim’s, and tugging him close. In his mind, Spock put his hand on Jim’s face, as he was doing in the cave.

“We are one, always. This is the Vulcan heart, this is the Vulcan soul.”

Jim’s eyes widened slightly.

“Heal, my Jim.”

Jim sagged against him and collapsed in Spock’s arms.

****

“How did you get him into the healing trance?” McCoy asked Spock much later as Jim lay on the biobed in the medbay. Jim was still much paler than Spock would have liked, but the doctor assured Spock Jim would be all right.

Spock hesitated. “It is something that Vulcans and their mates can do.”

McCoy looked at Spock. Frowned. “Mates? What sort of mates?”

“Bondmates.”

“What? When? Spock—”

“Hey, no yelling.”

Spock immediately turned to Jim, whose eyes were open staring openly at him and the doctor. “Jim!”

McCoy immediately began to scan their captain.

Jim looked past the doctor to Spock. He smiled. “Hey you.”

Spock could not speak, he just looked into Jim’s beautiful blue eyes, full of life.

McCoy frowned. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Thanks to you, Bones. And to Spock.”

“Yeah, listen, Spock said something about mates and I—

“Yeah.” Jim smiled. “Spock’s my husband now. You’d better be nice.” Then he laughed softly.

McCoy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back. Married, God help me.”

Spock scooted closer and grabbed Jim’s hand. His warm hand. So warm. “Ashayam.”

“Spock, I love you. And I’m pretty sure you knew that long before I told you, but are you sure about this?”

“Very.”

“Yeah? Because, aren’t you stuck with me now?” He smiled, but it was a little hesitant.

“Negative.”

“You’re not?”

Spock squeezed his hand. “I am afraid you are stuck with me.”

Home, Flash Fic, November 30, 2018

close up of christmas decoration hanging on tree
Photo by Gary Spears on Pexels.com

It was silly to care, I knew that.

Spock didn’t. It was just another day to him. Probably always had been. And he only indulged his illogical mate over the years.

I got it. I did.

But still, I stood looking out the window of our house on New Vulcan. For what? I didn’t know. Normally, we might have been in Riverside this time of year, but because of Spock’s ambassadorial duties, this year we were on New Vulcan.

Except that Spock had been called away and here I was alone.

Waiting for my husband to come home.

How pathetic.

I turned away from the window with a sigh and looked out over our house. I’d put up a small tree. Even decorated it. By myself. I felt more than a little foolish to have bothered.

“Computer stop Christmas music playlist.”

The strains of holiday music abruptly ceased. I eyed my gingerbread flavored tea dispassionately and picked up the cup and poured it out into the sink.

“Time to grow up, Jim,” I told myself out loud.

I was never going to be able to recreate happy holiday times that just never existed.

The first year Spock and I had been a couple, I had mentioned Christmas.

His face had gone quite blank.

“Didn’t you ever, I don’t know, celebrate some kind of holiday with Uhura?” And it had been hard to even say that, because I was still a little sensitive about the whole Spock and Uhura were a couple for so long crap.

“Nyota respected my Vulcan cultural differences.”

I had shrunk back then from the embrace we’d been in, feeling as though I had been slapped. I turned away, desperate to hide the hurt I was certain showed.

“Jim, that is not what I meant. That came out wrong,” Spock insisted.

“Sure. I have to get back to the bridge.”

“Jim—”

And it had been better later. We’d had a small celebration, which I had been expanding on or at least trying to maintain ever since.

Now, back in the present, I sighed with regret and figured I might as well just take everything down and put it away. For good this time. It seemed ridiculous now that I’d brought everything with me to New Vulcan.

A week ago when Sarek had stopped by to see if I needed anything while Spock was away, I’d seen the barest hint of disapproval in his eyes at my Christmas decorations. He hid it well, but I’d seen it.

Sometimes I felt as though I had been the one doing all the compromising. I knew that wasn’t fair, I did. But I was sad and lonely and depressed at that moment and all I could see was everything negative.

I grabbed a plastic box and took it over to the tree to begin to remove the ornaments. The first one I removed was a tiny little replica of Vulcan Prime. I’d found it in a little Alpine Christmas shop on Earth in Germany. I’d been kind of thrilled at the time at my find but of course when I’d shown my purchase to Spock he’d made some dismissive comment about how a tiny little ornament could never really represent his planet.

I should have thrown it away then, I thought, as I took it down and put it in the box.

Nyota respected my Vulcan cultural differences.

“Yeah, well fuck you,” I said out loud. “And her too. I’m not fucking Nyota.”

“For which I am grateful.”

I dropped the ornament I held, a squirrel holding an acorn, and turned in shock to see my husband standing just inside our house, wearing a black cloak and a turtle neck sweater in a blue that matched my eyes. I know, he’d told me he’d picked it out for that very reason.

“Spock!”

He inclined his head. “What are you doing, ashayam?”

“Uh.” I set the box down and hurried over to him. “Never mind that. You’re home!” I threw my arms around him and he pulled me close, nosing into my hair by my ear. A thrill shot through me. “I thought you weren’t going to be back until next month.”

“I was able to finish earlier than anticipated,” Spock said, his arms holding my very close indeed. “I thought my presence would be welcome for your holiday celebration.”

“It is. Very much so.” I pulled back to kiss him full on the lips.

Spock grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the tree. “What are you doing?” he asked again.

I swallowed heavily. “Well. I, um. I was putting it all away.”

Spock looked down into the box and reached down to pull out the replica of Vulcan Prime. His gaze rose to mine. And I couldn’t hold it. I looked away, not wanting him to read me just then.

“Jim,” he said softly. “We can celebrate Christmas every day if that is what you wish.”

I laughed and turned red. “That’s not what I want. It’s not very special if it’s every day.”

His fingers touched my chin and forced me to meet his gaze. “I love you. Beyond all ordinary meaning of such simple words. I would give up all and anything to make you happy.”

My tears pricked and stung my eyes. “I don’t want you to give up who you are or anything else. I just—”

“I know.” Spock drew me close again, still holding the ornament at the same time. “I made it back here today to be with you, as I knew you would want. I know you, ashayam. Better than I know myself at times. I never want you to change. You are my beautiful mate.”

“Spock,” I whispered into his neck.

He reached past me to put the ornament back on the tree. “Come. Let’s have some of that gingerbread tea you love so much.”

I smiled. “Yeah?”

“Indeed. And perhaps we can even replicate cookies.”

“Now you’re talking!” I laughed and pulled him toward the kitchen. And my heart was light. Spock was home.

Illogical Regrets, Flash Fic

I got a request for this, after the happenings of Amok Time, and I decided to do it AOS, because, well, that’s what I do most of the time.

pinethumb

Spock walked into his quarters and stopped in the middle, unsure what to do. He was shaking still. He was so certain he had killed Jim. That this was the end for him. For them.

He would never recover.

Never mind his career, that was unimportant to killing…his captain.

This was much closer to killing Jim then when he had been choking him on the bridge during Nero.

In fact, he had killed Jim. He had. He would have. Jim would be dead. If not for McCoy’s neural paralyzer—

The madness that overtaken him. He had been so certain he would not have to go through this. He was only half Vulcan. Had had it drilled in to him so many times that he wasn’t considered Vulcan enough by his peers. His father—

Well, his father had expressed disappointment in him until the death of his mother.

Spock hadn’t believed T’Pring had survived the destruction of Vulcan, but she had. He’d learned that a year after. She hadn’t been on Vulcan at the time of the destruction. And even then, Spock had assumed she had the preliminary betrothal link they’d been given as children severed. She had always promised she would.

But then the madness came, and he knew then, T’Pring hadn’t severed their link. He’d turned from Nyota to bond with T’Pring, the one chosen for him. While his intention had never been to hurt Nyota, he had no choice but to do his duty. Her tears had not affected him much, as the fever had already started. He had not spoken to Nyota since he’d felt the Plak Tow. And he did not wish to see her or speak with her now.

He thought only of Jim.

Jim.

Who had just been smiling, brightly, and with all the forgiveness Spock surely did not deserve. Grinning and proving to Spock that he was very much alive and so beautiful Spock’s heart hurt.

T’Pring. Why had she so cruelly chosen to jeopardize Jim’s life instead of just ending things between them before it ever reached this point? She cared not at all for Jim, who as a human, would have died at Spock’s hands.

Spock would have forever mourned the fact he had murdered his own friend. Never mind Spock’s romantic feelings for Jim, he was his friend, and T’Pring knew he would have killed Jim.

He could no longer deny to anyone, especially himself, his true feelings for Jim.

Spock glanced toward their shared bathroom. Jim was not presently in his quarters. Spock knew this because he was always hyper aware of Jim’s movements there. He heard nothing from that direction now.

Besides, he’d heard Jim make plans to see the doctor later. Something about a drink together. How they deserved it after everything they’d been through.

Jim should not be with McCoy. He should be with Spock. Where he belonged.

Mine.

Jim was not his. Should never be. Spock was so ashamed.

Before he could even think to stop himself, Spock walked into their shared bathroom, straight through it, and into Jim’s quarters.

He paused just inside, almost in the doorway of the bathroom. He had never invaded this space without Jim present.

Spock turned to go back the way he’d come when he spotted Jim’s shirt lying on the end of his bed. His heart rate picked up dramatically as he realized which shirt it was.

The one.

Jim had been wearing this one when—

Spock’s breath hitched, and he walked over to Jim’s bed.

Jim’s bed.

He might never have slept here again. Because Spock would have-would have—

Spock picked up the ruined shirt. The slashes across Jim’s chest were stained with blood. The blood of…

Spock clenched his eyes shut and turned toward his own quarters, the shirt still held in his hands. He walked through their shared bathroom and to his own quarters.

The blood. The slashes. The lirpa wounds.

What pain Jim must have felt.

Because of him.

He rubbed his thumb on the dried blood. It made him so ashamed and angry. Not at Jim, never. But at T’Pring. At himself. At those Vulcans who just planned on letting him kill his friend and captain.

Spock turned in anger to his laundry program. He could not stand for one more moment to see Jim’s blood there. Blood he spilled.

It made him want to resign his commission and put himself in for court martial all over again.

When the shirt came out clean, Spock pressed it to his face once more.

“Jim,” he whispered. Though it was illogical since he had just washed it, Spock was certain he could smell Jim on the material. There was no longer a trace of blood, but the slashes of the lirpa were still there. Still the evidence of what he’d done.

Tears pricked his eyes and he shoved his face into the shirt.

“Hey, Spock, sorry to cut through the bathroom, but I—”

Spock raised his head quickly to see the object of his affection, of his everything, standing in his quarters, staring at Spock in utter shock. His mouth hung open, his blue eyes were wide and so-so blue.

“Spock, are you okay? What are you doing?”

“Your-your shirt…”

Jim moved from by the bathroom over to where Spock stood holding on to his shirt for dear life. “I’m okay, Spock. I’m right here.”

“But…the cuts.”

Jim searched his gaze, his eyes crinkling as he smiled gently. He pried the shirt from Spock’s hands, who let loose only reluctantly.

“Did you remove the blood?”

Spock nodded, mutely.

Jim pulled off his command tunic and the undershirt under it, then to Spock’s surprise, pulled the ruined shirt on, pulling it down over his chest. “See? No more cuts or blood.”

Spock stared at his chest through the slashes. He could see scars. He had scarred him. He swallowed heavily. “The scars—”

“Oh. Well. Bones could have gotten rid of those or at least made them a little less prominent, but I…you would think I’m kind of weird.” Jim laughed, and Spock loved his laugh. So much. “Weirder.”

Spock breathed out. “You-you should laugh more. It is precious.”

Jim frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am…ashamed.”

“Spock—”

“Jim.” Spock could not hold himself back any longer. He needed to touch Jim. He realized how many times they had just touched, like it was natural, normal. And it was between them.

He seized hold of that shirt he had ruined and used it to pull Jim closer. His gaze strayed toward Jim’s nipples, plainly visible through the slashes in the shirt, something he had seen before, yes, Jim ruined his shirt often, though this was the first time Spock had been the cause, but he had never dared even look too long at them. He did now.

Before he could stop himself, he moved his hand to Jim’s chest. He swiped his thumb through the cut shirt and across the left one. Jim sucked in a breath.

His gaze met Jim’s. “You were saying about the scars?”

Jim shook his head, his Adam’s apple sliding down his throat. “Just…when we-we were sparring, you were lying on top of me and I just…I could feel you.” Jim’s face reddened. “All of you. I’ve-I’ve imagined it so many times, not like that, no, but, you and I, you on me like that, and I just never wanted to forget that feeling. Not that scars—”

“Jim.” Spock bent toward Jim’s chest, flicking his tongue out at the nipple he’d just swiped with his thumb.

“Spock?”

He sucked on first one and then the other of Jim’s nipples, as his captain fell into his arms, sagging against him. He lifted Jim into his arms then and turned toward his bed. He planned on showing Jim just how precious he really was.

To Spock. Especially to Spock.

“Mine.”

Cookie Exchange, 11/16 Flash Fic

I got a request to return to my Friday Flash Fics, so this is the first one. Now, you can expect possibly a Pinto fic in the future, but for now, for this first one, I am posting this one. I was inspired watching the Christmas Cookie Baking Championship on the Food Network. Enjoy!

Aqua-and-red-platter-42.jpeg

“Excuse me but you are the hottest guy here.” Jim scooted up next to the Vulcan who sat by himself at the bar.

Jim had been surprised to see the Vulcan at this event. It was supposed to be a holiday cookie exchange party. Everyone was supposed to bring a dozen cookies and then choose someone to exchange them with. It wasn’t really Jim’s scene, but he had nothing else to do and everyone he normally hung out with had other stuff to do.

And yeah, he’d cheated by buying cookies at a bakery.

“My temperature is not particularly elevated,” the Vulcan said.

Jim sat on the stool next to him. “And funny too.” He smiled. “Jim Kirk.”

The Vulcan merely stared at him.

Jim’s smile widened. “Now, see the way it works, is I say, Hi, I’m Jim Kirk.” He put his hand toward Spock’s. “And you say, hi, I’m…”

Nothing.

Jim grabbed Spock’s hand and pressed his to it.

The Vulcan blinked but he did not move his hand away, so Jim considered that a win.

“Vulcan hands are—”

“I know.” Jim winked. “Jim Kirk.”

“Spock.”

“Success! I thought I was going to have to beg. Not that I wouldn’t have or anything. Are you alone?”

“You are with me.”

“Good answer. You bet I am. Want to exchange…cookies?”

Spock arched a brow, which was really damn sexy, actually. “I brought gingerbread cookies.”

“I brought spritz cookies. Decorated with red and green sprinkles.”

“Very simple cookies.”

“I know, but the truth is I don’t actually bake. I bought the cookies.” Jim gave him what he thought was a charming sheepish grin. “It’s terrible, I know, but it was all last minute. I didn’t even know this was going on until I happened to walk past a sign. See, I’m all alone this weekend. No friends. No one.” He stared into Spock’s dark eyes. “Is your apartment close?”

“You are quite bold.”

Jim didn’t think he imagined the green tint to Spock’s cheeks.

“I told you, you’re super-hot. Insanely. I didn’t have any idea you’d be here. I’d have stepped up my game if I knew but—”

“I did not come here with the idea of engaging in copulation.”

“Oh my God, I might have just creamed my pants.”

“Mister Kirk—”

“It’s Jim. Or just Kirk, if you really have to.”

“The point is, my mother wanted to come here tonight and—”

“Wait. I thought you said you were alone.”

“I said that you were with me.”

Jim frowned. Yeah, okay, Spock never said he was alone. And now, shit, Spock wasn’t interested. Obviously. Whether because his mother was there or because he…he just wasn’t interested.

It was hard to hide his disappointment, but he forced himself to smile. “Oh. Well. Yeah, that’s true. I’m sorry to have—”

“Spock?”

Jim turned as a really pretty dark-haired human woman wearing a flowered scarf around her head.

“Ma’am.”

She smiled at Jim. “I’m Spock’s mother, Amanda.”

“Jim Kirk.”

“How lovely to meet you, Jim. Are you exchanging cookies with Spock?”

“Well. I hoped to. But I think Spock—”

“Yes, we are,” Spock spoke up.

Jim glanced at Spock in surprise.

“In fact, if you and your friend no longer need me, Jim and I thought we would have our cookies elsewhere.”

“Oh.” Her eyes sparkled. “Well, yes, of course, Spock. Andi and I aren’t quite ready to leave yet, we’re still tasting cookies, but if you’d like to go with Jim, that’s fine.”

Spock nodded.

Amanda looked at Jim. “Your cookies must have been quite delicious to convince my son so quickly.”

Jim coughed. “Yes. Um. Yes, ma’am.”

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, Spock. Andi is waving me over. She’s holding a plate of shortbread.”

Jim watched her walk away and he turned back to Spock. “You don’t have to—”

Spock slid off his stool. “In answer to your question, Mister Kirk, my apartment is close.”

“Oh.” Jim licked his dry lips. “Oh.”

Spock grabbed his arm and turned him toward the exit.

“Wait. What about our cookies?”

“I do not like spritz cookies.” Spock pushed open the door.

“Oh, thank God, because I hate gingerbread.” Jim hurried after him.

100 Word Flash Fic Friday, 02/02/2018

Kirk_in_a_hospital_gown

If the captain died, then Spock would be captain. He did not want to be captain.

No. That was wrong. Certainly who would be captain if-if…the captain died was not what he should be thinking about.

If Nyota had known what sprung to his mind, she would slap him, and he would deserve it.

If the captain died, then Spock would be…alone. Lost. Have wasted time not revealing to the captain just how much Spock—

But no. The captain would not die. There would be time.

“Spock?”

Spock stood up, barely able to breathe.

“He’ll be all right.”

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