Title: Born(e) Of Long Association
Author: Mycroft Holmes
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: K/S
Rating: PG-13
Summary: My take on the crash/cave cliché.
Disclaimer: Paraborg/Viagracom owns Star Trek, etc. Others own the rest of the references, but they're a surprise.
Feedback addy: mycholmes02113 @ yahoo.com
Note: Another dedicated to my Cousin Andy, that rare bird--a good friend, a great relation, and a California native.
Beta: Chris
*******
They reached the cave in safety. As they had done the first time, though this walk was much more pleasant, if still not leisurely. The storm, still at Jim's insistence, continued unabated. And though Spock could not appreciate being out in it, he agreed with his husband that it would be an enjoyable--even erotic--backdrop to their evening, once they were safely ensconced. And so it was.
When Spock said as much, he received a pleasantly strong squeeze and an adoring--as well as, Spock had to admit, adorable--look from beneath Jim's lashes. The Vulcan found that, as often, he could not resist placing soft kisses over much of the upturned face, usually a prelude to working his way towards Jim's lips. But after a minute or so, Jim pulled away, begging off due to his famous appetite, and began to busy himself with the preparations for dinner. Spock watched him closely...both because he always enjoyed the sight, and because he wondered what else Jim had up his sleeve for the evening. Spock suspected, from long experience, that it would be more than just a smuggled decadent dessert.
*******
Dinner and dessert had met both men's high standards--Jim's for quantity and Spock's for quality, and very pleasantly so. Some of it, surprisingly, would even have met with Bones' approval, and they joked about this as they ate. When all was said and done, and everything was cleared away, Jim faced Spock in the center of the cavern and bade the Vulcan sit and wait. Spock did as he was asked, lowering himself to the stone floor as gracefully as if he were in a palace, smirking slightly as he noted that Jim's high sense of drama had not diminished with time. Jim caught the thought and winked, then walked slowly to the table, bent low, and blew out the old fashioned lanterns, leaving the whole cave in deep darkness.
Spock stayed quite still, and merely waited to see what his lover had in store for them. His patience was a mixture of love and trust...born of long association, the phrase came to him unbidden. He turned inward, and explored. Now where had that come from? It was quite familiar. And not only from being often used in describing himself, Jim, and the rest of the original Enterprise crew. He reflected for a moment. Of course, Gibran. He had once written that love is not "born of long association and unbroken companionship." He believed it was "the daughter of a spiritual understanding, and if that understanding is not achieved in a single moment, it will never be attained--not in a year, not in a whole century." Spock had to agree. Though he and Jim's love, and that of the crew as a family, had been refined through proximity and time, it had started with a single moment. A moment much like this one. In a place much as this. He searched his memory further. Gibran had also said, "Limited love demands possession of the beloved, but infinite love desires only its own essence." Time and experience had taught Spock what a moment could not...how fortunate he was to have found in Jim a love like theirs. Infinite and unlimited as the stars they had once and forever traveled. Still, Spock thought with the hint of a sly smile, there was something to be said for possession. Certainly in the physical sense. He had found that out long ago, upon his first visit to this cave. Tonight, he wished to show Jim just what that old yet undying feeling of possessiveness could still do to him...to them...and he would.
Spock's train of thought was broken by small scrabbling sounds, close and in front of him where he knew Jim to be. A match flared, and by it Spock saw the face of his beloved reappear, glowing from within and without.
Then Jim bent again, and busied himself with something Spock could not quite see. But the business soon became apparent, as more and more golden light filled the small space.
"James." Very dry humor was obvious in the velvet voice.
"Yes, Spock?" A kind of patient youthfulness was just as obvious in the warm tones.
"While we did, in the past, have candles--from the shuttle's survival kit..." He stopped and sniffed the air, delicately as a cat. "I am certain that they were not vanilla scented."
"Spock..." Jim sighed slightly. One way or another, this was going to be a long night. He still hoped it would be the fun way.
"Spock, it's just...you know. Romantic..." He began again. But even by candlelight, Jim could see the wheels of logic turning.
"It seems to me," Spock said slowly, "that one of the purposes of 'romance' is to make one person more...attractive to another. Irresistible, as it is often described. Do you feel that this is necessary, in our relationship?"
"T'hy'la... Well, there it is, Spock. You are my t'hy'la. You're irresistible to me. You always have been. I'm willing to bet--my life, in fact--that you always will be. You know that. And I know that I'm irresistible to you. That's what brought us together, here...that night. And that...my lovable logical friend...is what brought us all the way to this day."
Kirk paused, grinning widely, and another thought struck him. Spock lowered his lids in the light of that almost blinding smile, and reflected it with a small one of his own.
"You know, I wouldn't say it in mixed company, Spock, but...resistance is futile." He smiled again, this time more subtly, disarmingly. "Besides...you wouldn't try to resist me...would you?"
Spock sighed. He felt himself start to surrender. He let himself. This was one argument he was always willing, indeed pleased, to lose. "Would I?" he said softly. "Would I ever?" More softly still. He shifted himself closer to Jim, so that their faces were almost touching. "No. Have I ever?"
"No." They both felt that that word, right now, was as sweet as yes. "No...not in a long time. Not since that first night...so much like this one, but so long ago.... And even then...you tried...but you didn't succeed. And I don't think...that you're sorry. Are you?"
"No."
Looking into each other's eyes, they both reflected on that night. A heat grew between them that had nothing to do with the several candles. Then Spock closed the remaining gap between them and their lips met. In very little time, and with even less thought, they were on the ground. Jim lay back and drew Spock over him. Spock came willingly, eagerly, resting his weight on his forearms, on either side of his lover's head. He was careful of the candles, but did not let that distract him from kissing Jim as deeply and thoroughly as possible. Spock was so engaged in, not to mention aroused by, their activity that he neglected to comment on the sudden appearance of luxury bedding under and around them. The items were to his taste, and quite comfortable. And neither of them, he reflected almost without human regret, were as young as they used to be.
Then Spock turned his mind from mundane concerns, and concentrated on the task at hand. How to fully explore Jim's mouth while removing his clothing so that he could more easily explore his body... His last fully formed thought was that though this could not be considered as 'productive' as his work in Science, it was as pleasurable, and more...
*******
When Jim woke up, late in the morning, Spock wasn't there, and hadn't been--judging by the coolness of the bedding--for some time. Jim wasn't bothered or worried by this, though. For one thing, the first time he had woken up, he had found Spock holding him--just the way he was when they had fallen asleep--and watching him. It was a common occurrence, on both their on and off duty mornings, and indeed whenever and wherever they faced the morning together. Jim had smiled, feeling the shared sense of peace and contentment. He thought they might talk a bit, maybe cuddle a bit more. But this time, they made love. It was different from their lovemaking the night before. This was infinitely slow and sweet, and just the tenderness of it brought tears to both their eyes. When it was finished, Jim slid back to sleep without a word, and Spock held him again and soon joined him. For another thing, Spock had mentioned, sometime during the night before, that he might want an early morning walk. Jim had not only given him his blessing, but promised him good weather for the journey. Both men were very used to waking and rising early, and so both woke at approximately the same time every day, ship's alarms or no. But for Spock it went back much further, and deeper--not only to his upbringing, but to a more innate, Vulcan sense of time. Jim, on the other hand, though trained to rise and work early on his family's farm, had always enjoyed sleeping in. The rarity of the experience, he found, made it all the more enjoyable. So this morning was much like many of their vacationing ones together, though the day before had ended quite differently.
Now, Jim lay back on the disarrayed makeshift bed and reflected on the a thought Spock had shared with him last night, as they began to meld. It reminded him of something...Rilke. One of Spock's favorite Terran writers. "An almost perfect blend of logic and emotion," wasn't that what Spock had said? High praise indeed. One could, Jim reflected, finally say the same of Spock. What was it Rilke had written, on the subject of work and love? "Like so many other things, people have also misunderstood the position love has in life; they have made it into play and pleasure because they thought that play and pleasure are more blissful than work; but there is nothing happier than work, and love, precisely because it is the supreme happiness, can be nothing other than work. So those who love must try to act as if they had a great work to accomplish. They must be much alone and go into themselves and gather and concentrate themselves; they must work; they must become something. For the more we are, the richer everything we experience is. And those who want to have love in their lives must collect and save for it, and gather honey."
Was that what Spock was doing, this morning? Jim chuckled to himself. Gathering honey? He hoped so. Mentally and physically, he was hungry. He wanted Spock back by his side, and then he wanted breakfast. He got up, yawning and stretching, and started to get ready to greet the day.
Spock returned within the hour, and at first Jim thought his strange tale was a joke. After all, the presence of another being wasn't part of the plan, and this trip of theirs was nothing if not planned. But though Jim had long since learned that whatever the rules about Vulcan humor, his Vulcan--as usual--was an exception, Spock soon convinced him that he kidded not. And so Jim was equally "fascinated", over a hearty breakfast, by Spock's unexpected encounter. The old professor, planned or not, appeared not only so humanoid as to be human, but had of all things an upper class British accent, and spoke a dialect of English old fashioned enough to seem almost Victorian in origin. He seemed harmless enough, and explained his presence by way of his being an amateur naturalist, out and about--much like Spock--for his morning constitutional. Spock was pleased, as always, to find a fellow scientist...though there was something, hard to define but definitely there, that disturbed the Vulcan about the other "man". However, Spock's attempt at focused empathy only served to confirm that the "man" was less than he appeared, not more. And under the circumstances, this was quite comforting.
Jim was not surprised to learn that their mystery guest and Spock had hit it off immediately and that their conversation--including a full comparison of nature notes--had taken up most of Spock's absent time, and several times Spock paused in his story to inquire why Jim was laughing. The husbands talked the situation over for some time, hashing it all out the way they had always done--as a team, with a mixture of command training and familial experience--but in the end decided it was nothing to worry about. Nothing, at least, worth worrying Captain Picard about. Jean-Luc had welcomed them with open arms, but was clearly focused on the conference he was attending all weekend on the starbase they were orbiting. They made appropriate notes--Jim a literal one to the engineering staff, Spock a mental one to follow up on this after the couple returned home. All things considered, they agreed that the most likely explanation for their little phenomenon was either a harmless glitch or a well-intentioned gift. After all, they could think of a few people, Picard among them, who would be emotional enough to present them with an additional memento of the occasion, yet logical enough to provide it in the form of a puzzle for them to solve together.
*******
A couple of hours later, having breakfasted and cleansed themselves, they were standing together, close to the mouth of their cave, watching the sun rise. Jim was leaning his back against Spock's front. The Vulcan's arms held him around his waist, and the Human's arms held on to them. When the sun shone above the mountains, Spock broke the silence.
"Jim? I wish to clarify another point, regarding our return to this location. I do not believe there was or is a planet in this system that is uninhabited yet possessed of a fully functional outdoor shower."
"Spock!" Spock felt a sort of affectionate aggravation flow through their Bond. He could not help but be reminded of what the sensations he invariably received from Doctor McCoy.
"I am sorry, t'hy'la. It was very thoughtful. Not to mention practical. And, I will admit, rather...'romantic'. The absence of a roof to the enclosure was...lovely."
The smile Jim gave him then, turning halfway in his arms, was worth waiting a year for. Or a lifetime. Humans placed so much meaning on holidays, Spock thought for the thousandth time, though he did so with affection. Especially those that were theirs alone...or that they shared with just one other person. It was truly...touching, Spock thought, even if he did not fully understand it. He took his eyes from Jim's smiling face reluctantly, and spoke into the sunrise. "Computer--arch." The familiar doorway containing holodeck controls appeared with a soft sound. A few more words, and some keystrokes, and the couple was standing in a black room with a yellow grid.
Spock felt completely clean and dry, but he also deeply savored his body memory of their lovemakings. It was very clear to him that Jim felt the same way. This didn't require their Bond, but was evident merely from the way his husband leaned close against him as they walked. Each with an arm around the other's waist, they passed through the holodeck doors and departed. Just before the doors shushed shut, the sound of their voices carried back into the now empty room.
"Jim?"
"Yes, love?"
"Happy Anniversary." *******
"Spock? I'm going down to the farmer's market. Do you want anything?"
"No, Lasha. There is nothing I require today. Except your safe return."
"Oh, I think I can promise you that. Old San Fran hasn't gotten that scary...not yet, at least. Yeah, I can promise...as long as you can promise me a warm welcome." Jim batted his eyes slightly.
"As always." Spock smiled at his ever flirtatious husband.
"I'm looking forward to it...say...Spock?"
"Yes?"
"Did you get in touch with Captain Picard?"
"I did indeed. I apologize, I neglected to update you. I sent him a subspace message the day after we returned home. The next day, we were able to speak face to face. Virtually speaking, of course."
"Of course."
"I must confess, I was surprised by his reaction. I had not included the details of my reason for contacting him in my original message. When I informed him of my reason, he became visibly agitated. He thanked me for contacting him, and assured me that I had done him and the Enterprise a service. 'A great service', was, I believe, his exact phrasing. It seemed effusive praise, but I assume he knows his ship, and its business, better than we do at this point." Spock paused. Jim smiled.
"I appreciate that, Mister"--wink--"Spock. Continue, please."
"I'm afraid I could gather very little information from the Captain, t'hy'la. And I think it was intentional, on his part. He did reiterate his pleasure at having us aboard, and his best wishes for 'many happy returns of the day'. And even over subspace I was sure that he was sincere. But I received the impression that he knew our guest, and that he was not--in Picard's opinion--a welcome one. I endeavoured to draw him out on this point, and to offer him our services if he needed assistance. He assured me that he appreciated our interest and concern, but he terminated our communication within a few minutes. As the link went down, I believe I heard him say something under his breath about feeling ill, and something else about 'rather have a visit from the Troi woman, God forbid--altogether less havoc'. I am still not sure how to interpret our interaction."
"Hmm. Your guess...I mean, hypothesis...is as good as mine. Didn't he say anything about who he thought the professor really was, or how they knew each other?"
"He did not. Indeed, it was my perception that he took pains to avoid that topic. It would seem that, whatever their association, it was not pleasant."
"Huh. Well, he knows how to reach us... and I'm sure he will...if they need us."
"Yes, Jim."
Jim turned back towards the door. He had it open before he felt the touch of Spock's mind in his own.
//Ah...t'hy'la?//
//Yes?//
//In addition to your safe return, I do have one request. If the market has any candles...//
//{amusement}...{affection}//
//{slight embarrassment}...{affection}//
//Understood, Mister Spock.//
Jim left the apartment whistling. The market had better have candles. And lots of them. If not, he'd scour the city. His husband requesting romance was a rare treat, and Jim intended to give him one in return.
Spock regarded the closed door thoughtfully. Then he began a thorough search for matches. He was pleased but not puzzled to find them in the cabinet next to the vanilla body dust and the feather wands.
Mycroft Holmes
North End, Boston
Av 5763 / August 2003
Adar 5765 / March 2005
Disclaimer, cont.: Sherlock Holmes' copyrights, which would mostly belong to the Doyle family, are rather controversial. But I gather that in the USA, Holmes is in the public domain. Thanks to Google for helping me with the rest of my allusion obsession. This translation of Rilke is by Stephen Mitchell.
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