[ Gratitude threads through him clearly, a brush of the back of his knuckles grazing her cheek before his fingers settle lightly on her face and temple, his eyes closing. ]
My mind to your mind. [ Unlocking the barriers, it's a process he slips into with unerring ease for all that it's so invasive, sinking into Nyota's consciousness so that skin and bone and blood don't matter, only the intangible essence of intelligent beings. ] My thoughts to your thoughts.
[ The crunch of an apple shatters their way into Spock's immediate thoughts of Jim, seen from the first time during the Kobayashi Maru and marked fascinating by every fiber of his being. The vicious pride in tearing into the cheater at a hearing that should not have been there, he is Vulcan, suffused when sniping at each other and finally the satisfaction in beating him down. The shame and willingness to forgive, trust, the latter building block by block until there's only glass and hands that can't touch, the loss a monster in Spock's throat that can't vocalize how terrified he is of losing Jim. They can't even touch. Jim dies alone and Spock roars, part of himself torn away again, just like his mother, a howling cry morphing into something fierce and livid as he tries to murder Khan to sate his pain.
There's a room and in it Jim is defensive, closed off in a way that pains Spock to see; years spent alone in a nexus have eroded Jim's faith into something ugly and spiteful. Spock touches his hand and the concerncareloveprotectlovekeepholdlovefear is unbridled, shocking Jim to his core as Spock gathers him in so Jim can wilt against his strength. The scene focuses on Jim's anxieties.
'So, can you promise you'll keep Uhura from strangling me?'
Spock blinks at him in surprise, confident in where he is with Nyota not to worry that she'll think of this as cheating. It's a natural progression from friend to brother, and when Spock brushes a light kiss over startled lips he finds he can't let go of his fears that Jim won't feel the same bond, but he does and it's beautiful as they fall against one another, perfectly understanding what this is even when Jim butchers the Vulcan wording and Spock sighs at the unrepentant grin. The world tips on its axis and they are lying down together, curled up in arms and legs while fully-clothed, just to touch and caress in light kisses of lips and two-fingers that melt into each other and become indistinguishable; there's a shot of pain when Jim can't take it, a panic attack that cuts through Spock like a lashing whip. Sudden and ugly. Jim calms only when clutched tightly and Spock holds onto him, tell him he deserves this and more, that he is still my captain through the warm telepathic pathways lacing the two men together.
A small alien cheerfully interrupts the scene and Spock is furious that this insufficiently qualified little creature has been harming Jim with its inappropriate care, thinking itself a wonderful little monarch when deep down anger flares in Spock to keep it as far away from Jim as possible. That isn't care, not as Spock knows it; Jim is hurt and wounded and broken, and Spock snaps inasmuch as his Vulcan pride allows when he dresses down the creature as promptly as any Starfleet officer. Neglectful. They come to an impasse and Jim is angry with his treatment of the alien, his friend. Spock doesn't want to be just a friend if that is how Jim thinks it is acceptable for one to behave.
'Your logic is flawed,' he tells the small creature, cold and defensive.
He doesn't care when Jim rails against him. He wants to leave, to not ruin the tentative t'hy'la bond that aches in him to ensure Jim is protected at all times. Jim doesn't understand it, and Spock doesn't force the issue, but he very much wants to be anywhere else if Jim won't trust him to act in his best interests. Kisses resume, he pins Jim to a wall out of weak desperation to show him what those jumbled emotions mean and they only break apart once hard and aching and needy, the presence of his love for Nyota forcing Spock to call off the proceedings now he's aware they're becoming distinctly inappropriate.
Because he loves them both and it's new and frightening, wanting to ensure his mate knows she is his only and his friend-brother-needyouformyown-lover realizes that he isn't by any means second-best. This doesn't work like that, Nyota and Jim are on perfectly even footing and satisfy Spock's varied Vulcan wants and needs. I cannot be without you, either of you.
The mind-meld blazes white with raw emotion and breaks, leaving him panting slightly where he sits on the bed. ]
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.. Go ahead. [ Uhura murmured, finally. She still trusted him, and if he honestly thought it would be better that way? She had to believe in that. ]
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My mind to your mind. [ Unlocking the barriers, it's a process he slips into with unerring ease for all that it's so invasive, sinking into Nyota's consciousness so that skin and bone and blood don't matter, only the intangible essence of intelligent beings. ] My thoughts to your thoughts.
[ The crunch of an apple shatters their way into Spock's immediate thoughts of Jim, seen from the first time during the Kobayashi Maru and marked fascinating by every fiber of his being. The vicious pride in tearing into the cheater at a hearing that should not have been there, he is Vulcan, suffused when sniping at each other and finally the satisfaction in beating him down. The shame and willingness to forgive, trust, the latter building block by block until there's only glass and hands that can't touch, the loss a monster in Spock's throat that can't vocalize how terrified he is of losing Jim. They can't even touch. Jim dies alone and Spock roars, part of himself torn away again, just like his mother, a howling cry morphing into something fierce and livid as he tries to murder Khan to sate his pain.
There's a room and in it Jim is defensive, closed off in a way that pains Spock to see; years spent alone in a nexus have eroded Jim's faith into something ugly and spiteful. Spock touches his hand and the concerncareloveprotectlovekeepholdlovefear is unbridled, shocking Jim to his core as Spock gathers him in so Jim can wilt against his strength. The scene focuses on Jim's anxieties.
'So, can you promise you'll keep Uhura from strangling me?'
Spock blinks at him in surprise, confident in where he is with Nyota not to worry that she'll think of this as cheating. It's a natural progression from friend to brother, and when Spock brushes a light kiss over startled lips he finds he can't let go of his fears that Jim won't feel the same bond, but he does and it's beautiful as they fall against one another, perfectly understanding what this is even when Jim butchers the Vulcan wording and Spock sighs at the unrepentant grin. The world tips on its axis and they are lying down together, curled up in arms and legs while fully-clothed, just to touch and caress in light kisses of lips and two-fingers that melt into each other and become indistinguishable; there's a shot of pain when Jim can't take it, a panic attack that cuts through Spock like a lashing whip. Sudden and ugly. Jim calms only when clutched tightly and Spock holds onto him, tell him he deserves this and more, that he is still my captain through the warm telepathic pathways lacing the two men together.
A small alien cheerfully interrupts the scene and Spock is furious that this insufficiently qualified little creature has been harming Jim with its inappropriate care, thinking itself a wonderful little monarch when deep down anger flares in Spock to keep it as far away from Jim as possible. That isn't care, not as Spock knows it; Jim is hurt and wounded and broken, and Spock snaps inasmuch as his Vulcan pride allows when he dresses down the creature as promptly as any Starfleet officer. Neglectful. They come to an impasse and Jim is angry with his treatment of the alien, his friend. Spock doesn't want to be just a friend if that is how Jim thinks it is acceptable for one to behave.
'Your logic is flawed,' he tells the small creature, cold and defensive.
He doesn't care when Jim rails against him. He wants to leave, to not ruin the tentative t'hy'la bond that aches in him to ensure Jim is protected at all times. Jim doesn't understand it, and Spock doesn't force the issue, but he very much wants to be anywhere else if Jim won't trust him to act in his best interests. Kisses resume, he pins Jim to a wall out of weak desperation to show him what those jumbled emotions mean and they only break apart once hard and aching and needy, the presence of his love for Nyota forcing Spock to call off the proceedings now he's aware they're becoming distinctly inappropriate.
Because he loves them both and it's new and frightening, wanting to ensure his mate knows she is his only and his friend-brother-needyouformyown-lover realizes that he isn't by any means second-best. This doesn't work like that, Nyota and Jim are on perfectly even footing and satisfy Spock's varied Vulcan wants and needs. I cannot be without you, either of you.
The mind-meld blazes white with raw emotion and breaks, leaving him panting slightly where he sits on the bed. ]