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Arguably Insane

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Okay, so yes, there was a betting ring, not going to lie.

But really, can you blame us?

Any of us who were present on the Enterprise during the worst day of all of our lives had seen how volatile Kirk and Spock were together. I mean sure, they managed to pull it together for the greater good and get the job done. And man did they deliver.

Goddamn but it was something watching Kirk and Spock serve that Nero bastard his just desserts.

If they wanted, and either of them just a little bit more evil, the two of them could probably rule the galaxy or something, but I digress. The point is that really able officers or not, Kirk and Spock were like oil and vinegar, we’d all seen that first hand. I mean, seeing a Vulcan lose his cool is not something a guy’s liable to forget anytime soon, or, you know, ever. Talk about traumatizing.

A few friends and I got together and talked after the Narada incident - a pain shared is a pain cared and all that - and we all agreed that we all had a little guilt for not interfering when Commander Spock almost killed Kirk during that whole ugly ‘emotionally compromised’ business but the truth of the matter was that we were all pretty much statues of stunnedhood.

To be entirely fair a Vulcan having a complete breakdown is not something you see everyday, or ever, actually. Before we lost Vulcan I was certain in my belief that such an occurrence was about as likely as Kirk being a secret eunuch. But if one thing was perfectly clear after that incident, even if the two managed to pull it together and get the job done, was that putting Kirk and Spock in a room together can either accomplish something awe-inspiring or something fatal. So the fact that after the dust settled, promotions were handed out, and assignments solidified, Commander Spock had willingly submitted candidacy as First Officer under Kirk, and for five years at that, and Kirk accepted said offer, had us all a bit flummoxed.

Nah, flummoxed is putting it lightly, more like shocked out of our fucking gourd

And, just perhaps, a slight bit eager. Come on, we’re on a five-year mission out in space, got to get our entertainment somehow and this promised to be better than any of those old musty adventure books Kirk reads.

Damn books are heavy. I would know, I ran into him while we were both moving our stuff aboard the Enterprise and offered to help him out with his things, figured it wouldn’t hurt to endear myself to my new Captain a bit. Little did I know that behind the swagger and charm of the reputed Lothario of the Academy hides the universe’s biggest bookworm.

Ten boxes, man. No, I’m not kidding. Note to self: never voluntarily offer to help someone move again, captain or no. Lesson learned.

Anyway, so Kirk has hidden depths with his bookishness and all that, I get that, but hidden depths didn’t negate the fact that Commander Spock was going to kill him. Probably sooner rather than later. This none of us doubted. Starfleet couldn’t have picked two more unlikely candidates to serve as the command team of the Federation flagship if they tried. Not even Kirk’s inner nerd would save him from annoying the Vulcan into homicide just by virtue of his being Kirk: I mean, the man is completely brilliant, this is true, but he’s also marginally insane.

In other words, as illogical as the day is long. Kirk is the anti-Vulcan.

So whether they would be at each other’s throats, again, wasn’t the question. The real question was how long it would take to reach the tipping point.

I had my money on two days into our new mission. My pal Ernie, from Engineering, was not so optimistic, he put five down on half a shift. I tried to explain to Ernie that Kirk had a hidden arsenal of very heavy books he could throw at Spock in order to delay his impending death by Vulcan ka-pow, but Ernie just wasn’t buying it.

Fine by me, won't have to share the pot.

Wendy, from medical, didn’t wager anything, but made a show out of programming the replicator to pop a big bucket of popcorn to eat while we waited for the excitement to go down in the mess hall during our first evening meal as the official crew of the USS Enterprise.

I find this a wee bit concerning, considering that by virtue of her job she’s supposed to, you know, disapprove of anything that could potentially lead to fatalities, not sit there munching away with more excitement than she’d shown ‘no cover ladies night’ at the local pub we all used to frequent near the Academy. But then, her boss is McCoy. And there he was, carrying his own bucket of popcorn. And a smirk on his face.

Wonder if he joined the betting pool? Hell, the man probably started it. He’s a close friend of the Captain’s after all, he had inside information. Ernie’s convinced that one of the bonding factors of their friendship is a combined love of sadism.

Perceptive guy, that Ernie, even if he’s completely underestimating our dear new Captain’s life span by a day and a half.

And then it happens, the moment we’d all been waiting for... Kirk and Spock walk in, shoulder to shoulder.

To say that every eye in the entire joint wasn’t on them would be a bold-faced lie. Really, I don’t think anyone’s been this riveted since these strange, pointy-eared beings landed on Earth for the first time, after the first human warp flight, and said something about living long and prospering, which is really Vulcan-speak for ‘we didn’t think you had it in you’.

Anyway, here it was, that moment when Kirk would turn to Spock and say...

“So Spock, I’ve heard through the scuttlebutt that you play a mean game of chess. I’m pretty comfortable with the board myself. How about a game?”

Wait, what?

Where’s the blood? Where’s the ka-pow? Where’s the parental advisory warning? Watching your two commanding officers play chess is about as exciting as watching paint dry. And just about as time-consuming. What the hell? Seriously?!

“They’re fucking with us, they have to be. They got wind of the betting pool and this is their revenge,” I heard Ernie mutter.

Wendy was too busy shooting frightened glances as McCoy, who was trying, and failing, mind you, to prevent himself from laughing himself out of his chair. What he thought so funny I’ll never know, but clearly the man was amused by something, and yes, McCoy cackling like a hyena was pretty scary, Wendy had every right to be wary. Hell, so was I, for that matter.

Suffice to say that the only shocking behavior we witnessed that entire meal period was Kirk actually winning the game. It’s those books he reads, I’m telling you. He may act all swagger and bravado but my back and I know the real truth.

But I don’t think anyone was more shocked by the Captain winning than Commander Spock. The guy went from looking typical Vulcan anal-retentive to donning that look you’d get if someone told you the moon was made of cheese. You know, that look that says, ‘I just don’t know, my world is all askew, what universe am I in again?’

Ah, so here it was, that ka-pow we’d all been expecting. Just came a little delayed, that’s all. Commander Spock was about to deliver a...

“If you wouldn’t be adverse, Captain, I believe a rematch is in order. Will you be available again this week?”

“For you, Spock? Of course!” And then the Captain touched the Commander’s arm. Not in self-defense, not as a battle cry, but with dawning affection, as if they were buds, or, in the very least, Kirk expected them to become such at some point in the near future.

A thought struck me then that I hadn’t really considered before... Captain Kirk doesn’t have many friends. Yeah, don’t look at me like I’m nuts, I know the guy is charming, okay, trust me, we ALL get that, it’s not a secret. Our dear Captain could charm a Klingon out of a brawl. He’s also affable, intelligent and handsome, and no matter what my mother would have you believe, ‘it’s not on the outside that matters, it’s what’s on the inside that counts’, being pretty certainly doesn’t hurt.

But to the best of my recollection I’ve only seen Kirk repeatedly hang out with one person... McCoy. Kirk is that guy who everyone knows, or at least knows of, but no one really knows, you know?

Come to think of it, I don’t think Commander Spock has many friends either. Nyota Uhura is his friend, and she’s made it very clear that friends is all they are despite all the PDA they engaged in during the Narada mess, but other than her? Yeah, also drawing a blank. To be fair, the Commander doesn’t exactly give off that warm and cuddly vibe. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a genius, smart as all hell in fact. Hell, I’m in awe on of the guy, but yeah, he’s about as warm and inviting as an igloo. Not the kind of guy who makes one feel that approaching him for casual conversation would be welcome, or even, you know, safe your self-esteem. All it takes is one raised eyebrow and that look that says, without saying, ‘oh look, a human doth approaches, better brush up on inane conversation pieces because I do not think they have the mental capacity to handle big words.’

Hell, he might not even feel like that, but it’s the vibe, man, the vibe.

But despite all of that I bet they get lonely, Kirk and Spock. And being at the top of the food chain, command-wise, probably won't help matters any. I mean who can be themselves and shoot the breeze with their bosses around watching? No thanks.

So it would be neat, for them, if they found some companionship and balance with each other...

Yeah, I know, crazy thoughts, right? Maybe the moon really is made of cheese. Wait, what universe am I in again?

“Martin, close your mouth. You’re going to catch flies,” I heard Wendy toss my way. I want to tell her it’s not the lack of action I’m shocked about, it’s the potential for our commanding officers to actually survive the five years of our mission. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say their differences might do something crazy, like complement each other, create balance in the universe, boldness and logic combined, ka-pow.

But best keep that thought to myself, for now. It’s useful information for the next pool.

I left the mess hall not entirely sure of what I had signed up for. One thing was for certain, though, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock were going to keep us on our toes.

I’d bet on it.


Now I don’t go to sickbay unless I absolutely have to. And I have a very good reason for this... Dr. McCoy scares me.

What?! Don’t look at me like that. He’s a scary guy. See, the problem with knowing someone with no brain-to-mouth filter is knowing someone with no brain-to-mouth filter. I mean, blunt honesty is so overrated, seriously. Would a little soothing or pacifying kill McCoy? Would it? Yes, it’s idiotic to get a third degree burn the second day on the job. Yes I knew better. But one would think the burn would be enough of a punishment for reckless use of equipment, okay? A burn and a lecture on idiocy was total overkill, in my humble opinion.

In fact, the only one on the ship scarier than Doctor McCoy is Commander Spock. Which kind of explains why they’re both friends with Kirk, Kirk’s missing a fear glad or something. You know that part of the human psyche that says ‘...maybe I shouldn’t do this, it might lead to an untimely death or, in the very least, some serious ouchies’ yeah, Kirk doesn’t have that.

He thinks Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy are funny. Laughs all the time at their quote, unquote ‘quips’. He touches Commander Spock all the time despite the guy’s obsessive issues with personal space (with anyone who isn’t the Captain, that is, when it’s the Captain touching him, the Vulcan doesn’t seem to care) and teases McCoy damn near hourly without care to McCoy’s barbed tongue.

None of the rest of us would ever even dare to do any of that. Ever. ‘Cause, you know, Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy know where we live.

Ernie thinks the Captain’s a masochist. I kind of have to agree with that assessment.

Anyway, I was braving sickbay tonight because I have had this headache all day and had already tried the pain med route, several times, in fact, and relief just wasn’t happening. McCoy may ooze disapproval from every pore, but he’s a decent doctor. There hasn’t been a medical problem onboard the Enterprise yet that the guy hasn’t managed to fix.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch the Captain sitting like a sentry by Commander Spock’s bedside as the Commander recovers from a laser shot. Now normally I wouldn’t do a double take at such a scene... because it happens damn near every other day, and twice on Tuesdays. I wish I was joking.

To be frank, our commanding officers have made a habit out of taking shots for each other.

In fact, their obsessive need to save each other has become a bit of a running joke.

I’ll give you an example. So we’re visiting this planet called Janus VI where these miners are disappearing, right? They send this distress call claiming that a monster was after them or some such shit and we, of course, hightail it over there because of Kirk’s missing fear gland. All and all some pretty freaky stuff. Turns out the ‘monster’ was this silicon-based life-form called a Horta (a more fitting name would be ‘disgusting glob’ but no one but me seemed to like that suggestion). Anyway, Commander Spock is like ‘aww, look at the endangered species we’ve discovered, isn’t it logical?’ Which is the highest compliment Commander Spock gives anything. It would be the equivalent of Wendy going ‘oh look, a puppy, he’s so cute, can we keep him?!’

So while Science Officer Spock is getting this hard on for new discoveries, as he does, and does his Buddha on the mountain-top impersonation because Vulcan’s have this thing for respecting the sanctity of life and all that and is refusing to consider killing the thing, Kirk is like, ‘um, not to state the obvious here, but it’s KILLED PEOPLE! which seems like a pretty logical argument to hunt the thing down to me but what do I know?

Then the Commander is all, ‘no, no, we can’t kill it, it’s so rare, there’s not another one for a 100 km, to kill it would be wrong and none of us would go to Vulcan heaven’, combined with the eyebrow thing, which would certainly make anyone else do his bidding but has zero effect on Kirk whatsoever.

Like I keep saying. Missing. A. Fear. Gland.

Anyway, long story short, Kirk gets in this thing’s path, facing imminent death, per usual, and all of a sudden Commander Spock is all like “The Captain’s in danger?! Oh hell no! Shoot it! Kill it dead! Why isn’t it dead yet?! Don’t just stand there: kill, kill, kill!” And the rest of us stand around doing that open-mouth-insert-fly facial expression we’re all now famous for sporting because we’ve spent the last eight months serving under two, arguably, insane people with a penchant for over-protectiveness of each other to the nth power. Just saying.

So no, seeing the Captain by the Commander’s bedside is not shocking. Not in the slightest. Doesn’t even make the scale.

The complete and utter guilt on our Captain’s face though, that gives me pause.

Just when you think you’ve got Kirk figured out, he goes and throws another curve ball.

Remember, back when we first started the mission and I said that back at the Academy Kirk didn’t really have a lot of friends? Well, when Kirk first came to the Academy we were all pretty much divided into two camps, those who resented the hell out of him and those who wanted to fuck him.

What?! He’s pretty. And he had that devil-would-care thing going on that promised a good time without messy strings. I mean, I’m not even into guys and I’d give Kirk a go, if given half the chance. But I digress...

Anyway, the rumor at the time was that Kirk had gotten into the Academy because then-Captain Pike had known his dad.

We all knew about the bar incident in Riverside, we all did, there were no secrets at Starfleet Academy, so that really seemed to support that theory. Can really blame us for putting one and one together and getting two, even if there were extenuating factors?

Also in our defense, getting into the Academy is no cake walk. There’s Ivy League, then there’s Starfleet Academy. I, myself, turned down an offer from Stanford to go to good ol’ San Fran. So to see a guy just waltz in without having to work for it, it burned, you know? We all gave Kirk a pretty wide berth that first semester, not going to sugarcoat it.

But then, well, he did well. Really well. Scored in the top five percent of our class, in fact. Really proved that he wasn’t just a pretty face, but by that time it was just easier to continue to give him berth, I guess, then to admit that perhaps we were a little wrong to judge.

Ever notice how hard it is to change a pattern of behavior once it becomes a thing? It’s not right, but it’s what happens.

In addition, Kirk is the Kelvin baby, a minor celebrity, which just made the whole thing all the more awkward. I mean, we all studied the Kelvin incident in class. Hell, we all grew up with the occasional Kirk family news coverage. ‘The Kelvin baby, one year later’ or ‘young Kirk drove a car off a cliff - psychologist weigh in on the detrimental effects of missing out on a proper male role model during the formative years’. I mean, how do you go up to a guy you’ve ignored an entire semester, unless you were shooting dirty looks his direction, and start a conversation saying what? ‘So your dad died saving his crewmates while you were being born and parts of your childhood were spent under a microscope, so, that must have sucked.’

And the thing about Kirk is he never acted like any of it mattered, not our treatment of him, nor the rumors that always circulated around him. He was always so confident, so brazen, so... unaffected, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. In fact, three years at the Academy and the only thing that ever seemed to bother Kirk was the Kobayashi Maru.

I guess we all kind of absolved our guilt over ostracizing the guy by believing that he didn’t care, not about anything or anyone, save Dr. McCoy. It seemed as though nothing that we did mattered to him so why should it matter to us?

The thing about humanity is that sometimes we’re not very nice, as a species. It’s easy to forget, I guess, that even the most confident of people have feelings, too. Or maybe they’re just better at hiding them, I don’t know.

All I know is that Kirk has turned out to be a pretty incredible Captain, once he got going, and that my Captain was sitting by the bedside of his hurt friend looking as though the universe was ending and it got to me, just a bit. I mean, I didn’t cry or anything, but you know, it was touching in a manly way.

Odd, isn’t it? How two such unlikely personalities - the bold Kirk, the logical Spock - have come to mean so much to one another?

Or maybe not. I mean, Spock has never given Kirk berth, not from day one. Whether he was calling Kirk out for cheating on the Maru, or helping him take down a ship from a hundred years in the future, or ordering the kill of a single, endangered Horta in his honor, Spock has always been on the Captain’s radar. Honestly? I think Kirk likes that about him. Hell, I think Kirk loves that about him. I guess even negative attention, i.e. calling someone out for cheating, is better than no attention at all, in a Kirkian sort of way. And Kirk and Spock’s similarities: they’re both smarter than we mere mortals, they both do their own thing (and sometimes these ‘things’ don’t always coincide with Starfleet regulations) and they’re both nomads, work to solidify this co-validation thing they have going on.

Spock helps Kirk make his crazy ideas come to fruition, Kirk doesn’t treat Spock any different for his mixed heritage - has, in fact, welcomed Spock and his differences with open arms, they give each other time, and attention and absolute trust. We’ve all seen it.

So yeah, I get why the Captain’s upset, and to the extent that he is, what I don’t know is what to do about it.

I work with computers for a living, there’s a reason for that, they’re so much easier to fix than people.

“Um, sir? I’m sorry Mr. Spock got hurt, I’m sure he’ll be back to his post in no time. Commander Spock’s got more lives than a cat.”

Okay, lame, even to my own ears. While I’m busy cringing, wondering why I even bothered to open my mouth and thanking the stars once again that I didn’t go into the psyche track like mother wanted, Kirk turns to look at me. Only he’s not really looking at me, you know? I get the feeling he heard me, but his mind is not exactly here.

Awkward. So awkward. This is the last time I try to give unsolicited comfort.

A soft rustle and a sigh from the bed draws both of our gazes, Commander Spock has woken, dark, amazingly alert eyes (I know the guy is stronger and all then the rest of us but jesus, he was shot by a phaser and wakes up to show no sign of it?!.. in my next life I want to be a Vulcan) instantly on the Captain, a whispered “Jim” on his lips. And whatever trance the Captain was in previously, he’s out of it, in an instant, his hand reaching for Commander Spock’s faster than you can say ‘illogical’.

Sweet Gorn on a cracker if it was awkward before, times that by ten, now. I”m getting this uncomfortable feeling, like I’m intruding on a private moment or something. Or, I would be intruding, if either one of them remembered I was there.

“Spock, you gave us quite a scare,” the Captain informed his first officer, his previously tense posture relaxing notably, shoulders drooping. “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful or anything, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again I’m banning you from all future landing parties, don’t think that I won’t.”

Amusement flashed in the Commander’s eyes, and the corner of his lips quirked, as if he’d like to see the Captain try and give an order like that. “Jim, I am alright,” the Commander replied, wisely ignoring an order he obviously won’t ever follow by addressing the larger issue at hand. Hell of a smart guy, that Commander Spock.

“Well, thank the stars for that,” Kirk said, those insanely blue eyes of his lit with all the relief his occupation would allow and a wide, toothy grin flashing across his face

The Captain has a beautiful smile. I’ve always thought so, even when I resented the guy. And Commander Spock doesn’t appear to be immune, his eyes riveted to the Captain’s mouth as he squeezes Kirk’s hand even tighter within his own...


Holy mother-fucking hell, they love each other! And I’m not talking best friends, love-you-like-a-brother type love that we all know they’ve felt for months but cheesy romance novel-like smitten. It’s as obvious as an erection in a Speedo. I mean, the looks they are giving each other would make my grandmother blush, and that woman isn’t afraid to discuss anything, (she once asked me if I was still a virgin at a family barbecue... I was seventeen and my childhood crush was sitting next to me).

I wonder if they even realize it. I mean, it’s entirely obvious to me and I’m not the most observant when it comes to such things, you know? But it’s different to be on the outside looking in then it is to be on the inside looking out, or whatever.

Say what you will about me but I’m no dummy. I beat it the hell out of there, gave them the privacy they deserved. I know exactly how my bread is buttered, thank you very much. I’ll just deal with the fucking headache. And if anyone asks I know nothing. Allow the Captain and the Commander figure it out without a meddlesome albeit well-meaning crew, and a mass of betting pools going on to distract them from putting it all together themselves, when they’re ready for it. They’re intelligent men, shouldn’t take them too long...



If there is one draw back to life in space is that you’re pretty much stuck, day in and day out, with the same 1,100 people. And after a year and a half it’s pretty safe to assume we’re all getting in each other’s hair a bit. Oh don’t get me wrong, we have fun and the exploration parts of our mission makes up for every discomfort imaginable, I love my job, I do, but take a small town where everyone knows everybody and everybody is up in every one else’s business and times that by ten thousand and that’s how little privacy one gets on a starship. Small enclosed space + small population of people = no privacy whatsoever.

I often feel like I’m in one of those 20th century sitcoms (I made the mistake of making this comparison in front of Ernie, who has taken to calling me ‘Hot Lips Houlihan’ whenever he sees me, the asshole).

It’s become a bit of a challenge to try to find spots on the Enterprise that aren’t well frequented. Where a guy can hang out for some occasional but much needed alone time without having to resort to his quarters, which can and does feel like a cage at times. I mean, sometimes you just get tired of the same scenery day in and day out, you know?

I had thought that I had found such a place, my own private hidey-hole. There was this small, tiny dressing room off to the side of the banquet room, with furniture, a replicator, a computer terminal and a small bathroom, which was really only utilized when we had visiting dignitaries or some such, so perfect right? Man-cave extraordinaire.

So I’m sitting in one of the corner seats, drinking a non-dairy caramel latte with extra foam and reading the latest graphic novel on my PADD, as you do, and who should intrude on my man-cave but the two people who epitomize why ship scuttlebutt sometimes sucks.

To their credit it didn’t take them long, following that evening in sickbay, for them to figure things out, but after that the two of them can’t damn near breathe without someone speculating on it.

“Commander Spock seemed cross this morning, do you think they’re fighting?”

“Um, Wendy, Commander Spock is ALWAYS cross.”

“Well, yeah, but he seemed EXTRA cross this morning. Maybe they’ve broken up.”

“Or maybe he’s just tired of his crew speculating on whether he’s on the outs with the Captain.”

“Jesus, you suck out all the fun from a conversation.”

I’ve had about ten versions of that same conversation in the past three months alone. Not sure why it is, maybe because I saw how they felt about each other before they did or perhaps because I think both of them deserve their happiness, life’s short, you know? But I’ve become a bit protective of them, of their right to a personal life just like anyone else.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m not more than a little annoyed that they found my spot. Damn.

I don’t think either of them realize I’m there, per freaking usual. What am I, invisible or something? To be fair, my chair is pretty hidden from their direct view by the odd L shape of the room.

It’s pretty much confirmed that they don’t know I’m there when, one second they’re looking at each other, gazes locked, completely silent, as if exchanging some kind of secret communication with their eyes, and the next they are sucking each other’s lips like a couple of thirsty leeches on the ass of a fat cow.

I can feel the heat pool in my cheeks and I’m certain I’m probably as red as I was that last time on Risa when I forgot the UV block hypo Dr. McCoy insisted we all take to apply once we were on planet.

Spock chooses that moment to pick Kirk up as if the Captain weighs nothing at all, and seats him on a small table as he takes Kirk’s bottom lip between his teeth and suckles it, hands grasping Kirk’s ass in a way that had to hurt, just a bit, and the Captain is moaning like moaning is an Olympic sport, throwing his head back wantonly as Commander Spock moves his attention to Kirk’s neck, where he alternatively begins to nip and kiss in turn.

I should let them know I’m there. It would be the correct thing to do. Embarrassing as all hell, but proper and all that. Sure, I won’t be able to look either of them in the eye for a month or two, if ever, but I’ve kept their secrets before, I could do it again.

But there is no way in hell that’s going to happen. One because I’m a bit of a chicken and I admit it. And two because I haven’t been this turned on since my first erection. I mean, I don’t even swing that way and watching them is making me hornier than hell.

It’s the naked want on both of their faces, you can’t not respond to it.

The Captain moves one had to reach inside Commander Spock’s pants and even though I can’t see Commander Spock in all his full glory (oh come on, you’d be curious, too, in my position), I see Kirk moving his hand in a rhythmic motion and I see the fabric of the Commander’s trousers rustle with each gentle pull, while the Commander’s hips jerk as if to help the Captain along, his face almost scary in its focused concentration.

I’m barely able to hold back a gasp when I see one of the Commander’s hands move from Kirk’s butt cheek to inside of the Captain’s pants to finger his asshole. Luckily even if I did slip and make some noise, it would be covered up by Kirk’s groan.

Fucking hell that’s hot.

I feel my own pants start to tighten, my body heat up. I want so, so badly to reach inside and take myself in hand, but I don’t dare. I’m too afraid that if I make the slightest movement, hell, if I even so much as breathe, I’ll be found out.

Kirk gasps “Come on Spock, please,” and goddamn I didn’t think I could get harder, but my cock hurts, it’s so stiff, ready to break the button off my pants in order to escape, as if to say ‘how dare you keep me confined, I can’t be tamed’. My hand twitches, wanting so badly to reach down, and I close my eyes for just a moment, willing my body to stop trembling. When I open them Commander Spock is in the process of turning Kirk around, the Captain’s face pressed into the table as the Commander yanks the Captain’s briefs down to his knees, then frees himself with the flick of a button and a hastily unraveled zipper.

I don’t get a thorough look, not nearly enough to assuage my curiosity anyway, but what little I do see is long, and green-tinged and glistening, as if Vulcan’s excrete lubricant naturally whenever they’re aroused, and jesus I really want to be a Vulcan in my next life. Commander Spock positions himself at Kirk’s hole with one hand while using his ridiculously long fingers to move the Captain’s cheeks apart with his other and then shoves in with such strength I feel my own ass clench in empathetic reflex.

Kirk doesn’t seem to mind the intensity of it, though, he’s swaying towards Spock, countering every thrust, his mouth open as he gasps and breathes “more, stronger, faster Spock, come on.

I feel my whole body tighten, feel the warm liquid slosh inside my underwear, and feel my cheeks burn so brightly I probably look like the tomato version of Violet Beauregarde.

Good god I can’t believe I just came in my fucking pants like a fifteen-year-old virgin in study hall. Hell, I can’t believe I came without touching myself at all. I look mindlessly up at the ceiling, caught somewhere between blissed out, and so mortified I could die, and close my eyes to the sounds of skin slapping, and an echo of Human and Vulcan moaning and gasping.

I can’t say how long it took them to finish, but it seemed like a lifetime, but through the remainder of their lovemaking I kept my gaze locked firmly on the ceiling, more ashamed of myself than I can ever remember being.

Way to let my hormones control me. I should have told them I was in the room and left when I had the chance, I know this. I have no excuses, unless curiosity and horniness count as excuses?

I hear rather than feel when they come, the skin slapping slows, there’s a really long moan, probably Kirk’s, and a soft “Jim”, undoubtedly Spock, and then really heavy breathing from them both.

“Love you,” I hear Kirk whisper, barely audible and hesitant, as if he’s afraid to say it, as if, after all that he’s somehow fearful Commander Spock doesn’t want to hear it.

Ha, fat chance of that. I mean, how many phaser hits must the guy take before Kirk gets it? Hell, ordering Kirk to kill the Horta was practically a love sonnet, Vulcan-style.

Just how much of Kirk’s arrogance is real? Though, I shouldn’t cast aspersions or anything, being in love makes us all kind of crazy. It has to be the most humbling experience out there, going from a world that revolves around pretty just taking care of yourself to adapting to a world that makes someone else’s happiness just as important as your own. Who am I to judge Kirk’s uncertainty?

“And I you,” the Vulcan responds, his voice as confident and sure in this statement as the universe is large.

My eyes snap back to them, not so much shocked as I am... moved, I guess?

I watch as Spock reaches and pulls up Kirk’s pants for him, and buttons them, and Kirk reaches up and smoothes Spock’s rustled hair back into place.

Those touches seem almost more intimate than their wild fucking, and I feel a lump lodge in my throat.

It’s so weird to see them like this, so different from the Kirk and Spock I see while on duty or even the Kirk and Spock we’ve seen at the Enterprise Christmas party, where Lieutenant Scott’s eggnog was flowing freely and Kirk briefly channeled the youth we once were before circumstances forced us all to grow up so abruptly, Kirk most of all.

Even through my embarrassment, I can’t help but think, they’re good for each other, Kirk and Spock, and for more than just the obvious combination of boldness and logic that have made them such an effective command team. In love neither one of them is hiding, not behind the cool indifference of logic nor the arrogance that hides a sensitive soul, they are as they are, stark, emotive and real and well, at the risk of sounding completely soppy and shit, they’re also more relatable this way.

I mean, It’s easy to think of them as gods sometimes, because they’re the two highest ranking members of the ship, because together they pull off the impossible and because of their personalities.

But they’re not gods, they’re fools in love, just like the rest of us are when we fall.

Good for them.

Confucius once said “Wherever you go, go with all your heart”... kind of cool to see that in action.

Wish I’d seen a little less of that in action considering I have no idea how I’m going to look either of them in the eye for the rest of our mission, but I’ll figure it out. Nothing’s going to pry me from this ship, man. Despite the fact that yes, it can sometimes be stifling, we’ve got a good thing going here.

And we’re in good hands.