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spocks-husband · 8 months

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vulcan has no moon.

Words: 1,255

Genre/Tropes: Fluff, old married Spirk <3

Summary: Spock is overwhelmed, but thankfully he always has his favorite person with him to make sure he's alright <3

Notes: This was originally published on my AO3 (link included lol), but I thought I'd put it here too :) this takes place like. Sometimes post Search For Spock?? Idk it's during the TOS movies. Enjoy !!

When he was still in the academy, a hopeful young Starfleet trainee with a fervent ambition for his studies, Spock had stayed up late one night writing an essay for his astrophysics class about the sort of force it might take for two astronomical objects that had orbited each other to fall out of that orbit. It had, of course, been many years since then-- several decades, in fact, which made him feel exceedingly aged-- and he scarcely remembered the essay or the assignment themselves... but he did remember his findings. Not because he had much interest in astrophysics-- in all honesty, the subject had rather bored him during the time he spent studying it-- no, that wasn't it at all. In fact, Spock found that the way the subject seemed to stick in his head the way it did, periodically rising to the surface accompanied by flashing images of his husband's timeless, smiling face, had very little to do with the content of his report itself and much more to do with the conclusion he'd found in his research.

"Simply put, two celestial bodies in orbit, unless influenced by a massive and most likely artificial source of gravitational pull will not fall out of orbit from each other. Of course, should this happen regardless it would result in disastrous consequences for both astronomical objects in question, but considering that it has already been established that the chances of this occurring are nearly if not impossible, it is not a concern relevant for modern scientists to attempt at preventing as it would be illogical to do so."

Spock thought about those words as he sat stiffly at the Kirk family dinner table, his face neutral and strangely calm, yet his mind somewhere else entirely. He held no resentment toward his husband's family-- his in-laws, as Jim called them (which was not a term Spock understood in the slightest), had been nothing but kind and loving to him, albeit in their own, somewhat unfamiliar way. He appreciated them, he respected them, but...

Surak help him they were loud.

Spock really did not mean any sort of discourtesy in that, hence why he would never announce such a thing aloud (he had learned over his many, many years working with humans that they tended to be... finicky... when it came to certain statements of bluntness and as such he'd found, mostly through trial and error and long, patient, confusing discussions with his husband, what it was that he was socially permitted to say around humans-- or, actually, come to think of it, sometimes even other Vulcans. Maybe he just wasn't good with social cues across the universe.). In his mind-- which is where he had elected the statement would stay, it was more of an observation than anything. Still, though, he found it rather overwhelming. He didn't mind spending time with Jim's family-- he wanted to, even, it was only fair considering the odd amount of time Jim had spent around Sarek over the course of their relationship-- but Spock couldn't help feeling that the Kirk family could be rather... exhausting. He tried not to think about it, but as he felt that steady, familiar sensation of overwhelmedness creep up his spine he feared that any longer in this house may kill him.

Suddenly, he felt Jim's hand rest over his own, the slightly cold sensation of his husband's ring touching gently to his skin.

"Hey, Spock and I are gonna head out for some fresh air," Jim announced, standing up and gently moving aside two of his younger nephews who'd been at his side questioning him about anything they could think to ask about the final frontier. James took his husband's hand gently, and Spock didn't argue as they walked out the front door and into the cool nighttime air.

Spock felt himself let go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding, the door shutting behind them and leaving the two men in a comfortable evening silence.

"I could tell you were getting a bit antsy in there," James chuckled, taking Spock's hands in his own carefully.

"Vulcans do not get... antsy," Spock mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"Vulcans don't, maybe, but my husband does," James snickered in response. "Come on, let's go for a walk."

Spock was quiet for a long moment before, slowly, he nodded, a subtle smile creeping onto his face. It was a slight change, something barely even there... that only James Tiberius Kirk would've noticed. There were a lot of things about Spock that only Jim ever saw. Small things, nearly inconsequential things... but, when it came to S'Chn T'Gai Spock, Jim didn't think anything was inconsequential. Every movement, every twitch, every glance... it meant something. Jim had known his husband for far longer than he'd known himself, he knew better than anyone that nothing Spock ever did was purposeless.

"I am feeling rather... lightheaded," Spock said quietly. "Earth's atmosphere has far more oxygen than the atmosphere of Vulcan, and although I have been here many times my body has yet to have grown accustomed to the change."

Jim hummed softly. "Do you want to sit down?" He asked gently. Spock seemed like he wanted to protest, but slowly he seemed to pause and reconsider before agreeing. Jim smiled softly at this, leading his husband off the path and into a nearby field, laying down next to him and staring up at the dimly lit stars above.

It was strange, really; the two of them had seen the stars at far closer a glance, and yet here they were, admiring them the same way Earthlings had done for thousands and thousands of years, long before the idea of space travel was even considered. They had traveled the universe together. They'd nearly died a thousand times out in the vast, cold depths of space-- hell, once one of them had died and it took more sacrifice than either of them liked to think about to bring him back. There was something romantic in that tragedy. Something tragic in that romance. Yet, like they had as younger men who'd fallen in love on a starship that became more home to the both of them than either of their native lands, they chose not to let such things linger on for too long. The philosophical questions of their love, of their lives, could perhaps be explored another day, in another galaxy. They would have time.

"... Spock...?" Jim asked quietly, almost hesitant in his voice. Spock found it curiously... uncharacteristic.

"Yes, Jim?" Spock responded, still holding onto his husband's hand with an almost desperate conviction.

"... Do you think we're ever going to be... you know... separated... again...?"

Spock paused to consider the question.

"Perhaps we will," he whispered. His eyes found themselves drawn to the full moon laying lazily in the sky, its shimmering light twinkling gently down onto them. He thought once again of that essay he'd written during his academy years. For a moment, he wasn't certain why the thought had appeared in his mind... but suddenly he knew. And suddenly he found a small smile once again creep onto his face. He squeezed Jim's hand in his own. "But it would be illogical to prepare for an event which has a nearly if not impossible likeliness of occurring."

Jim was quiet for a long moment-- but after the breeze that whipped carefully around them in the grass seemed to urge him to respond, he found himself smiling too.

"I suppose you're right, Mr. Spock."

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nursc · 8 months

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@tuhpring asked : [ call out ] sender calls out to receiver to help them in a moment of grave danger / (the angst potential ahhh)

the information comes in fits and spurts, finding its way to every corner of the ship despite its supposedly confidential nature. the news is greeted with a mixture of shock and discomfort, the idea that an old beacon of knowledge and power could fall to a faceless enemy, without warning, almost impossible to comprehend.

more reports reach them the closer they get to the eye of the storm, some of them contradictory, some of them bordering on fantasy, but when there is a moment of silence, they can at least stop and put together what they all agree on:

it is already too late.

vulcan has fallen.

it is the gorn.

pelia is pushing the engine to the brink, frizzy blonde hair spiraling around her as she steals bits and pieces from seemingly random locations. no one stops her. not when she gets more speed of the ship every time. the bridge is as silent as a crypt, while sickbay is the opposite, everyone rushing around to ready beds, conducting their own crazy experiments on the tech to get the emergency transport to extend its reach.

and right in the middle, barking orders like a war general — which, maybe, despite her denials and inhuman suppression, she is — is christine. the enterprise set-up is meant for peace, for treating each patient like they are the only thing that matters. this is how starfleet trains its doctors. but it is now how you save people during a war, and she cut her teeth in the worst of the worst. she knows better. with ruthless efficiency, she gives a crash course in emergency medicine to the rest of the staff, rearranging the set up for ease, all the while praying under her breath.

it is a selfish sort of prayer. not worthy of any god or of a medical officer who should be focusing on saving every single vulcan still trapped on the planet. no, her prayers are reserved for the safety of one person.

and though she does not deserve it, her prayers are answered. a god she doesn't even believe in finds enough time to protect one soul when thousands perish by the hour.

joseph pulls her out the floor, steady hand on her arm as he whispers he’ll take over, motioning with his eyes for her to go into his office. if anyone else interrupted her, there’d be hell to pay, protests and downright refusal to comply at least. there is no time to waste, but before she can form one word, she catches sight of his eyes. brown hues are as familiar as her own, more so, in fact. she finds there what she was waiting for, and it takes everything in her not to run.

the quality of the image is terrible, flickering in and out of focus as she approaches. dark clouds swirl behind the figure, sapping away the light of the afternoon sun, leaving the red-tinted planet clouded in perpetual darkness. but it doesn't matter, she'd know her even blind. the screen crackled again, the image sharpening, and she looked at t’pring. tired, weary, alive. the sight gave her permission to finally breathe. the blank expression in his eyes, a mask of professionalism she adopted to hide the panicked worry inside her heart faded in a blink, blue eyes gleaming with unshed tears as her fingers reached forward to touch the screen.

❛⠀ ⠀you’re alive. ⠀ ❜ ⠀

"YOU'RE THE ONLY PERSON I CAN TURN TO" PROMPTS

#˗ˏˋ ― don't thank me. ， 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜. ´ˎ˗#hi <3 #tuhpring

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johannstutt413 · 2 years

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(inspired by this post) Vulcan/Sideroca

*Clang clang clang* “Iron and steel, all that is real, passed through fire to true form reveal.” Vulcan watched her partially-worked pieces of metal pass through her automated assembly line; with just a little bit of preparation, her forge machines could repair or even rebuild most of Rhodes Island’s highest-demand weapons and armor pieces. Of course she’d still apply a personal touch afterwards for quality control, and the constant pursuit of technological advancement meant the occasional hiccup as new programs and tools were incorporated, but nothing a master of her craft couldn’t handle.

“Vulcan!” Ceobe charged in through the main door of the smithy. “Vulcan, you have a customer!”

The Forte sighed. As cute as her friend was, the enthusiasm was usually a bit much. “They can come in, Kay.”

“She’ll see you! Bye!” The Perro dashed off to return to the Doctor’s office. The smith clearly was too busy for headpats at the moment.

“I see why Bubble wants to compete with her,” Sideroca mentioned as she entered the blacksmith’s domain. “A lot of energy, a lot of passion. Still not a substitute for training.”

Vulcan didn’t have time for this. “You have work for me or no?”

“I want to spar with you.” The mercenary had brought her blade with her, slung on her back. “I would never dream of making an enemy of you, but I haven’t been able to train as hard as I’d like, and I think you’ll be a good test.”

“Hm…Alright. No one here’s challenged me before.” The smith went to grab her gear, mechanical foot clicking on the floor as she did.

Sid watched her prepare with something approaching reverence; blacksmiths were the warrior’s closest friend, after all. “Did you forge your own prosthetic?”

“I did.” She’d had to; no one else she knew could have made the one she needed. “I didn’t make your blade.”

“No, I brought it with me from Minos.” Not to be insensitive, but was it possible that-

The other Forte shook her head. “Misharon’s work’s gotten better, but he still hasn’t adapted. Proper mechanization would do him a lot of good.”

“Mechanization?” Vulcan was walking towards the exit now. “Of smithing? I’ve seen weapon production facilities, but I thought a craftsman would dislike that sort of thing.”

“There’s room for both. A good weapon’s a good weapon, hand-worked or machine-worked.”

No arguments there. “And in the end, it takes someone with a lot of experience and skill to make the machines, too.”

“That it does.” The smith let her hair down. “When’s the last time you had your sword balanced?”

“Before I was transferred here…Is that too long?” Judging by the look Sideroca was getting, it probably was.

Her opponent sighed, grabbed her by the arm, and turned them entirely around. “I’m not fighting you if your gear’s sub-standard. Let’s fix this.”

“Alright.” The mercenary could feel her strength by her grip. Oh, this was gonna be so good when they made it to the sparring area. “How long should that take?”

“Depends on how bad it is. You’ll get your fight today.” Honestly, a good test would do her some good, too. Her weapons had been set to the side for too long.

Fortunately for the both of them, Sid followed directions well, and Vulcan knew exactly the problems that needed fixing. After making sure the rest of her challenger’s gear was up to par (which, being Misharon’s, meant a bit more work after the sword was settled), they went back the direction they’d intended to go - the closest sparring area.

The smith checked her equipment one more time - shield, hammer, combat leg, all good - before stepping into the marked ring. Leaving the ring was usually an admission of defeat; (un?)fortunately, “surrender” wasn’t written into most RI Operators’ vocabulary when it came to duels of honor like this. “Ready to go?”

“Always ready!” No, seriously, she always was. Never knew when a good training opportunity would come along.

“Alright, then.” The mercenary’s enthusiasm was a bit infectious. Vulcan smacked her shield with her hammer, not hard enough to damage (or repair) it but enough to let it ring. “Come at me, then!”

Sideroca didn’t need to be asked twice. *crash!* Sword rang against shield, pushing the holder of the latter into a crouching stance but not sending them to the floor. “Hah! Perfect! You can take a hit!”

“I’m not just a sandbag, either!” Not wanting to do too much damage, but still wanting a bit of space, the smith knocked her opponent back with a jab of her hammer.

“That makes it so much better.” The mercenary, who’d had to roll a bit to stop herself from flying entirely into the wall, rose to her feet and charged again.

This time, Vulcan simply redirected her into the wall behind her, slamming her attacker into it as she passed. “Is this how you fight? Charging like a stampeding burdenbeast?”

“It’s got you on the back foot, doesn’t it?” Sideroca practically bounced off the wall. “You want a turn?”

“I’m not a dasher, but I wanted a challenger, not a dancer!”

The sword-woman’s eye flashed. “Then stand and deliver.”

“Gladly!” This time, the sword swing nearly did knock the smith off her feet, but she nonetheless held her ground, gritting her teeth. “There we go, there we go, put some dents in this thing while you can!”

“HRAAAAAGH!” So that’s what the mercenary tried to do.

Her opponent felt the rush of air before the sword landed against her hammer and shield, both braced for the impact; neither was enough to hold firm against the blow, but rather than send her flying, the blade cut into her shield and held fast. With a cut across her cheek and a fire she hadn’t felt during a combat in some time, Vulcan pulled her shield free and fell back in a defensive stance. “Now this…This is a challenge! Let’s see if Misharon’s gotten better after all!”

“You’re not fighting Misharon!” Sideroca roared, charging. “You’re fighti- ah!”

“Wha- ah!” Vulcan fell back as the mercenary slammed into with her full weight; she’d tripped mid-charge and lost her balance completely, sending both of them to the floor.

After taking a moment to absorb what’d just happened, the swords-woman was blushing uncontrollably. “S-sorry about that. Kind of ruined the moment there.”

“It happens.” The smith, lying flat on her back, let the other Forte sit up before doing the same. “Still, that was…I haven’t had a fight like that in a long time. Damn. You know your stuff.”

“Still gotta practice. I can’t slip up like this during a mission - I could get the whole team killed-”

Vulcan scoffed. “Using my gear? Like hell that’d happen.”

“Maybe.” The mercenary sighed. “Need to fix things up before we go again?”

“Definitely, your stuff and mine. First, though, come over here.” She invited her closer with a hand.

The swords-woman gave her the Fortes’ eyebrow. “Alright but- ??...”

“Just like I thought.” The smith smirked at Sid’s bewildered expression as she pulled back from the ambush-kiss. “A little rough around the edges, but still a masterpiece.”

“What are you-” Oh. OH.

She chuckled. “Figured I’d skip being subtle.”

“You sure did.” Sideroca ran through her schedule in her head and, realizing Vulcan could probably give her all the training she could want, nodded. “We can, uh, give it a shot?”

“I’ve gotta fix our weapons first, but you wanna head to the bar after that?”

The mercenary stared at her. “Why? You live in the smithy, right?”

“Yeah?” The cyborg smith rose to her feet. “What about it?”

“Why go to the bar if your bed’s right there already?” To the swordswoman, it was an obvious observation.

For her date, it was forward enough to ignite her forge.

#arknights #arknights fic #sideroca (arknights)#vulcan (arknights)#hey i've got your dose of rarepair right here #admittedly? a little dubious #vulcan's not kidding about just caring about her weapons n' shit #and sid's not much better 'cept she's a glutton for training-induced punishment #but since they're both Minos natives there's kind of an easy win:#fightin' feels good #and like...look i get that people like different body types but HOLY SHIT just look at Sid #just like #*wipes mouth*#sorry #but yeah #see you next post!

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byima · 3 years

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California Dreaming pt 3

Shout out to Tim Cook, the most boring commencement speaker like, ever. You’ve inspired PJO fanfiction. I am sharing this in smaller portions because I’m incapable of working on large text documents. Part 4 coming soon. Read full story on AO3

3 weeks later:

“…it is an honor to welcome you all to New Rome University's 125th commencement ceremony…”

Annabeth inhaled, steeling herself, taking it all in, then she exhaled in a loud breath. The morning was too bright, her brow pinched as she squinted at her surroundings, and the five-story arena they’re all crowded into seemed to gleam more than usual. It was enough to make her head ache.

She was in a Coliseum for gods’ sake. Because of course the arena in New Rome was modeled after the famous structure. The Greek in her wanted to wince at the on-the-nose mimicry. The architect in her was impressed by the modern adaptation and the homage to classic details. She had already committed to being on her best behavior, but the whole morning was shaping up to be a bit much. Nonetheless, neutral expression was her goal, as the Chancellor gave his welcoming speech.

“You all join thousands of scholars, authors, scientists, leaders, innovators, and thinkers in a centuries old tradition…”

It’s just… it wasn’t supposed to be this hot in the bay. But the sun was strong today, so much so that Annabeth found herself wishing she'd had Sally’s foresight and donned a wide brimmed hat like the ones her boyfriend’s mom and sister were sporting. Instead she sat in the cement stands using two programs as a visor, every now and then checking the status of the red flush blooming on Paul’s forehead and cheeks. And the beads of moisture, gathering incrementally at his temples.

“This is a landmark moment, the culmination of a lifetime of hard work and dedication…”

They’d arrived at the stadium early too, because Sally wanted good seats. The procession of graduates didn’t emerge for another hour and a half after they had settled in the stands. Her friends were spread throughout; Grover, Charles, Silena, Rachel and other Greeks that had made it sitting in a section to her left, Hazel, Nico, Piper, and Jason somewhere high up, to her right.

It was fine. They were here for Percy. And Frank. To celebrate.

That's what she told herself as she unstuck her dress from her sweaty thighs.

“And to all of our graduates, I encourage you to look into the stands. Find your family, your friends, your loved ones. The people that encouraged you, supported you, who danced and shouted and cried with you. Today we celebrate them, too…”

He owes me something real good, she thought to herself, for putting up with all the pomp and circumstance that’s coming with his graduation from this school. Mind on all the ways Percy was gonna make it up to her, she fanned herself with a program and settled back for the celebratory display.

It wasn't all punishing rays and sticky thighs though; the ceremony was touching in moments, electrifying in others. Touching when the procession of graduating students had poured onto the field; several students had broken formation to meet family members hanging at the edge of the stands for a brief embrace. Percy had searched them out in the crowd, spotted them, then blown dramatic kisses in their direction, finishing off with a two-handed "rock on" salute. Electrifying when the announcer prompted each cohort to give a battle cry. That sound, all the voices of graduates bellowing their affiliation, whether they had fought in the legion or had family that fought, accompanied by the reverberating tones of the Roman cornu, struck a note, something she felt in her chest even when the echo had subsided.

But the waiting, and the speakers, some engaging, others that should have never been passed the mic, had Annabeth digging her phone out of her crossbody bag so she and Estelle could occupy themselves.

And then, the final straw; the main speaker took the stage, a big Silicon Valley tech guy and a Vulcan legacy, and, gods above, Annabeth couldn't take it. She fell asleep, the drowsy heat was her blanket, hands folded in her lap and chin tucked into her chest.

After what felt like half a second of shut eye, Annabeth was jarred awake by loud, metallic clangs. Slightly startled, she looked behind her to see a girl, probably in her teens, apologizing as she picked up the water bottle she had dropped. Rubbing her nose tiredly, Annabeth looked to her right, there was Sally, leaning against Paul with her hand on his thigh, as they listened to the speech like the smug, functional adults they were.

Then she looked down, just as Estelle's gaze popped up, green eyes finding her gray ones under the brim of her hat, momentarily pausing her digital fruit popping to gleefully announce, "I saw you sleeping!"

"Yeah," Annabeth cleared her throat. She picked her hair up off of her clammy neck, shook it out, and set it back down. "Can I see my phone?" She searched for Percy's cap covered head as she asked. Bingo. Just as she thought.

Estelle’s answering “of course” was very polite, but she was reluctant to hand the device over, peering up at Annabeth's face as if to double check if she was serious about her request. Annabeth retrieved the device, clicked out of the game and opened up her messaging app. glancing at the field every other second, then started typing.

A: Percy.

A: Peeeeerrrrcccyyy.

A: Perseus Jackson.

A: Hey

A: Hi

A: What’s up?

A: Hello?

A: Buenos días.

She watched him jolt, shoulders shifting as he fumbled around for his vibrating phone. A couple seconds later...

P: You woke me up

A: I know. I could see your head drooping. I’m trying to save your neighbor from a drool stain on his gown.

P: Har har, nice one haven’t heard that before not.

P: Are you telling me you’ve managed to stay awake for this whole speech?

She took a moment to respond, she could lord this over him, falling asleep at his own graduation ceremony, but honesty is the best policy or whatever, and it’s actually hilarious how absolutely, horrifically, indubitably boring the selected speaker is.

A: No. I was knocked. The girl behind me dropped her hydroflask and woke me up.

P: This feels illegal.

P: I thought I was done sitting through lectures.

A: You’re almost there. You got this.

P: No. I’m not gonna survive this.

A: Very dramatic.

P: Tell my family I love them.

A: 😒

P: And I’ll miss them.

P: We had a great run .

A: 😒😒😒😒😒

P: Maybe you could send a hot pic?

P: One final act of kindness? 🥺

P: Make-a-wish style?

A: That’s your dying request?

P: Yup.

P: Boobies maybe?

P: A pic I haven’t seen before?

She scrolled through her camera roll.

P: I was joking.

P: Sort of. Not really.

P: Please don’t do anything reckless.

She sent him a picture.

P: Holy shit.

P: I’m awake.

P: Have I told you I love you today?

Annabeth laughed, pushing her hair behind her ear before she brought her screen up to type her response.

"Sweetheart, I’d like to assume that you aren’t the reason Percy is openly texting during his commencement ceremony."

Annabeth’s head jerked up and to the side as she hastily locked her phone.

There wasn't a single adult that Annabeth adored as much as she did Sally Jackson-Blofis, but also maybe feared a little bit? It was the mother of her boyfriend (future mother-in-law?) thing. Sally loved her like one of her very own, but on the topics of misdemeanors, misbehavior and all the other ways she could be corrupting Sally's beloved firstborn child, Annabeth lost every bit of her nerve. Blame it on childhood trauma, and her desperation to avoid giving her loved ones a reason not to love her. She'll probably have children of her own and still be looking for Sally's approval.

Annabeth winced in Sally's direction. "Sorry."

Sally didn't appear to be truly bothered as she looked out into the field, "At least he's not sleeping anymore."

P: Why is he yelling now?

P: Does he think yelling will make this any easier to bear?!?!?!

P: Praise Olympus he's finishing I think.

P: So you're ignoring?

P: You woke me up, just to leave me hanging?

P: Cold hearted 😔

P: I won’t forget this

P: mark my words

P: you’ll rue this day

A: We've been busted.

A: Stop texting. Focus on commencing.

P: Busted how?

P: By who?

A: Your mom does not approve

P: Tell her I'd be passed out on the field if you hadn't texted me.

A: No.

A: You tell her.

The bubble appeared, indicating that he was replying, then it vanished.

Annabeth got a notification of a group text, the group consisting of herself, Percy and Sally.

P: Mom I'd be passed out on the field if Annabeth hadn't texted me.

S: Get off of your phone now 😡

By the grace of the gods, the speaker finally wrapped up his monotonous ramblings. All that was left was the handing out of diplomas and the final address.

The rest of the ceremony passed in an energetic blur. There was a familial spirit in the stadium; people shouting and whistling and blowing horns and instruments to announce on no uncertain terms, 'yes, that's my loved one, I'm proud of them.' She felt it around her, in her. It made her holler for Frank, and whistle for Tobe and Simon, the other graduating seniors that lived in that little New Rome apartment that had been a second home to her. It made her stand up and jump with Sally when Percy's name was called. It made her scream louder and more joyously than she could recall ever screaming in her life.

And then it was done, and everybody was screaming again but also moving.

She turned to see Paul lifting Estelle onto his back as people seemingly began shifting around them at once, more or less in the same direction.

"The parking lot situation is going to be a nightmare," said Paul, worriedly observing the churning crowds.

"No, I can't imagine this small town gets this many people more than once a year." Sally picked up stray programs and their bag of snacks. "If we hurry, we can get out of the parking lot before there's too much of a bottle neck."

They were on the move.

"Can I use the restroom?" This was from Estelle.

Paul and Sally exchanged a look. "Oh sweetie. Is it bad? Do you have to go right now?"

"No, only a little."

"Do you think you can hold it?"

Estelle nodded confidently, one arm tightened around Paul’s neck while the other adjusted the lopsided hat on her head.

"Okay. That's what's gonna have to happen, because I doubt the bathroom lines are going to be bearable." Sally increased her pace, leading them out of the stands. "We just need to grab Percy, we'll meet everyone at the restaurant, Estelle can use the restroom there, and... yeah." She looked back to see everyone's expressions. "Does that sound like a plan?"

Annabeth gave her own confident nod. “I’ll go find him,” she said.

The group split, Paul, Sally and Estelle making a break for the parking lot, and Annabeth doubling back towards one of the field entries/exits, hunting down Percy's tall form in the outpouring of students shrouded in purple.

Annabeth spotted him, doing one of those handshake hugs with someone she didn’t know, nodding and laughing as they were carried with the flood exiting the tunnels.

She hadn’t even meant to, but she found herself practically running towards him, weaving through a sea of purple figures until she was right there in front of him, throwing her arms around his neck as he picked her up to wrap her in a bear of an embrace.

“Oh man,” he was chuckling at her enthusiastic display. “I knew you’d find me irresistible with a bachelor's degree.”

Laughter bubbled from her when he started spinning with her in his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to avoid hitting someone nearby with a flying limb.

He stumbled to a stop and, faces close, they both started speaking at the same time.

“Well I’m glad that’s over with-”

“I’m so proud of you-”

There was a steady thump of drums and harmonic cries of horns and pipes in the background: a celebratory soundtrack. Percy’s cap got dislodged when Annabeth sunk her hand into the hair at the back of his head to hold him in place and plant an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth.

He pulled back slightly after a moment thusly engaged. “You’re gonna make everyone jealous," he breathed with a smile. "Or at least uncomfortable.”

“Who cares?” She brought their faces back together and stroked her mouth over his. He responded immediately, parting her lips with his own and sliding his tongue into her mouth because honestly it was go big or go home and he’d decided that, today, he was entitled to a bit of a display. She had been snacking on oranges throughout the ceremony, not that he knew that until now, when he tasted the tangy story of it in the corners and surfaces of her mouth. He hiked her higher up with his hand on her thigh, her sandal clattered to the cement, and the loss of her shoe was enough to bring them back to reality.

They pulled apart, breathing loud and grinning like mad. Annabeth nodded to her shoe on the ground. Percy shrugged. She stuck her tongue out at him and he darted forward to lick the tip of her nose. There was that invisible string, connecting them, and they were grinning again, they couldn’t look away, they couldn’t help themselves.

She unwrapped one leg from his hips and reached for her shoe with her toes, finally finding the displaced sandal when she broke their connection and dragged her attention from his face to search the floor around them. Once she was properly shoe’d, he lowered her to the cement, adjusting her dress to fall smoothly at her thighs.

"Where’s everyone?" He trailed his hands down her arms and took her hands in his.

"Trying to get out of the parking lot before it becomes unbearable.” She fixed his cap back into place. They were jostled by a passing trio, and Annabeth got immediately shoulder checked by another hustling grad. “Come on," she tugged him forward. "I’m supposed to take you in that direction."

"Lead the way."

They set off, falling into step with each other, his arm wrapped around her waist and hers wrapped around his.

"Jackson! Annabeth!" They saw Frank, Hazel and Nico making a determined beeline in their direction.

The two groups fought their way to each other.

“I’m proud of you Percy,” Hazel fit herself to Percy’s open side for a brief hug. All of them were getting jostled, it seemed forward was the way to move.

“I guess they let anyone graduate these days.”

“Nico!”

Annabeth and Frank embraced.

“Hey guys,” Annabeth reluctantly pulled away from Frank. “Look, we've gotta hurry. Sally and them are pulling out of the parking lot.” She and Percy shared a nod. “And we shouldn’t keep them waiting. But we’ll see you at the restaurant!”

“At the place in Berkeley?”

“Yup! And congrats Frank! See ya there!” She called as they hurried off.

They moved away from the stadium now and headed into one of the main parking lots.

“You see them?” Percy asked.

“No… yes! There they are. White Toyota.”

“Yeah, I see ‘em.”

They jogged across the lot and jaywalked to reach the spot where Paul had pulled over.

Estelle was the first to comment as soon as the door popped open. “I saw you on the grass!”

“I saw you in the stands,” Percy shot back as he and Annabeth slid into the rental vehicle.

“Congrats Percy. This is a big moment.” From Paul.

Sally was quiet, just looking at him through the rear view mirror with full eyes and a small smile.

“Aw Ma-” This only seemed to escalate things, Sally tearing for real as the car started moving.

“I am so–” she paused, gathering herself. “So proud of you sweetheart. That's all.”

“Thanks,” he leaned forward and kissed her cheek over the back of her seat. “But also please don’t make a big deal about it. This celebration is for you too.”

She made a face like she was really attempting the no-tears thing and touched his hand where it rested on her seat.

“You’ve grown up so much-”

“Aww ma please-”

“No Percy, stop,” she moved his hand from where it was inching to cover her mouth. “Don’t you put that grimy hand on my mouth- Let me say this.”

He leaned his forehead against the back of her seat.

“All of us know how hard you have worked. I’m not just talking about grades. Both of you.” Annabeth, who had just been watching their exchange, sat up straighter when she was addressed. “You two and all your friends have worked through and survived more than most of the world population will ever survive in their lifetimes and you’re barely above drinking age!” She located some restaurant napkins in the glove compartment before refocusing on Percy, who looked apprehensive at best.

Cars in front of them honked as drivers struggled with the roundabouts and they weren’t so far from the stadium that they couldn’t hear the faint sound of a voice on the loudspeaker.

“You’re my son-”

“I'm your daughter!” Estelle chirped from her booster seat, tired of being ignored.

“Yes you are, baby. My rockstar princess.” Sally smiled at the girl.

“You,” she said with emphasis, attention back on Percy, she was not going to let him off the hook, “what feels like just a second ago, were the little boy who asked for blue candy from the shop and tried so hard to carry the weight of the world on his little shoulders.”

Percy turned his head, still pressed to the back of the seat in front of him, and made an exasperated face at Annabeth who made a tight lipped, ‘don't be rude’ expression right back.

“And even though,” all of them rocked as Paul hit a speed bump with a little too much force, “even though you’ve grown a lot bigger and stronger since then, I still see you carrying so much burden and it hurts my heart, it always will.” He shifted up at this, resting his chin on the shoulder of her seat while his hand sought hers out to grab onto.

“But you just did a really big thing for yourself. For you .” She tightened her hand around his for emphasis. “And I know you say you did it for me or Annabeth or Estelle, but I know you did this for you. And that , you choosing yourself, makes me so damn proud.”

“Ma…”

“My little boy. You are so extraordinary.” She squeezed his hand again. “But you’re also my little boy.”

She looked past Percy to Annabeth. “Thank you for keeping him out of trouble. For taking care of him.”

At this point, Annabeth was emotional too, hugging herself as she blinked away tears. “We take care of each other.”

“I know. He’s a caseload though. You don’t have to lie, I had him for 18 years.”

“I love you Ma. You didn’t have to say all of that.”

“I know, I just,” she waved a dismissive hand in the air, trying to compose herself. “Big day! Big weekend.” Her hand lowered to impatiently swipe the tears off of her cheek.

Estelle, who had been watching with wide eyes, felt it was time again to intervene. “Don’t cry. It's okay,” her little hand patted Annabeth’s right arm, comforting her in the best way she could. She looked at her mom. “Don't cry mommy. It's okay.”

Paul cleared his throat. “These are good tears Stelle-belle. Happy tears.”

“Okay,” she sat back in her seat, hands under her thighs, only half believing her dad.

Percy turned to his sister and tickled her sides. “You better believe I’m happy. No more school? And I get to come back to New York?” She screeched and pushed his hands away.

“You’re gonna come back with us?”

He tugged on one of her long, brown curls. “Well, I’m not flying back with you guys. But in about a month, Annabeth and I are moving back to New York.”

“You’re gonna have your room back?”

“No, we’re gonna have our own place.”

“You’ll see us all the time,” Annabeth added.

Estelle gave Percy a long look.

“So are you getting married?”

Paul started chuckling. Annabeth opened her mouth but no noise came out.

Percy, the smug, sweet bastard, cut his eyes over to his girlfriend and grinned, “Yeah, eventually.”

“My teacher is moving to Texas with his girlfriend and they’re getting married.”

“Well Annabeth and I are gonna live in sin for a bit–”

“Percy! If you don’t… ” Sally, who was giving Paul directions, paused to scold him.

“What’s that?” Estelle sensed a forbidden topic in the air and was on its trail like a bloodhound.

“That means we’re gonna get a dog,” Annabeth succinctly ended the conversation. The look she sent Percy’s way now said, ‘you can shut up.”

#mypjofic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy and annabeth #percabeth #pjo

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elen-aranel · 3 years

Note

Hii! Disco Sarek is making me feel things. I never thought I’d ask for this but could you maybe write a Sarek x reader?

Dear Anon, thank you for the request! I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy. I have set this in the past relative to Discovery, when Sarek is just getting to know humanity. Thanks to @starfleetstgmgr for some really helpful ideas!

Regard

Pairing: Sarek x Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Moderately frank discussions of human relationships, Diplomacy, gratuitous detail of Paris WC: 4.3k Rating: Teen

You have always watched people.

When you were a child, you watched your classmates as they fought and made up, sometimes finding you had a better memory for who was friends with who than they did.

When you were at college, you watched people go by through the window of your favourite coffee shop. And you messaged your friends, as you sipped your latte in breaks between reading, if you spotted any of their tutors going by looking like they were in a bad mood.

These days, as a Federation Attaché, you watch people negotiate. Sometimes it’s just a formality – the nitty-gritty of signing a treaty. Ambassadors, professionals, everyone on the same page, little details to hammer out. But the more interesting times are when the stakes are higher: people negotiating to protect their way of life. People negotiating who are personally affected. People who care.

This is your first time on a negotiation with the new Vulcan ambassador, Sarek. You’ve worked with Vulcans before, and you generally appreciate their logical approach to a situation. Unlike some other Federation diplomats, they don’t try to make everything about them themselves. But still, Sarek is different, somehow, and you watch him, trying to put your finger on why.

You’re on a Federation colony planet, Omicron Aquila III, trying to negotiate between the two factions of humans that live there. The land is very fertile, and the original colonists grew crops for export. But 10 years in there was a disagreement, and now the humans live in two separate settlements. Everything was fine until last year when a volcano, thought to be extinct, erupted, damaging farmland and water supplies. The colonists from Hebden and Longridge don’t agree on much, but they did agree that they wanted a Vulcan to mediate their issues, because they knew a Vulcan would use logic and come up with a fair solution.

Sarek remains unruffled as Representative Jackson Walker gets increasingly angry about Hebden’s south well. His voice stays deep, slow, and calm as he re-iterates the logic of allowing Longridge to use it, and you realise that unlike the other Vulcans you’ve met, he doesn’t treat humans like they’re inferior because of their emotions, even if he doesn’t seem to understand them. Representative Laila Patel from Longridge sits there with arms crossed, a grim smile on her face. But you’ve been watching her, and you’re pretty sure that when you get to the issue of land borders, she’s going to kick up a fuss.

“I hear your objections, Representative Walker. I think we should take an hour’s recess to consider next steps.” Sarek says, and both humans stand and leave, without so much as a goodbye. You stand, too, gathering up your PADDS.

“Ambassador, may I have a word?”

“Yes of course, Attaché. Please join me.” He leads you through into a corridor, then to a door you haven’t been through yet. You make a point to give him space as he holds the door, letting you take it from him; Vulcans are touch-telepaths and contact is frowned upon. You follow him through into a garden. It’s beautiful, with pink and white roses in bloom, perfuming the air. You think it must have been one of the first things the colonists built because the plants are mature, and you’re touched that in establishing a new home they put beauty at the heart of it.

Sarek leads you toward the middle of the garden, so you can talk and be sure you’re not being overheard.

“What is it you wish to say, Attaché?” He regards you, curious, and you notice his eyes. Stormy, grey-blue – how had you not paid attention to them before? You shake yourself, mentally. Now is not the time.

“Your proposal is fair and logical. But I—I don’t think you will be successful with it. The colonists think they want a logical solution, but they cannot stop their emotions coming into play.”

Sarek raises an eyebrow at you. “What is your evidence for this assertion?”

“The way Representative Walker gets particularly aggressive when you bring up the south well. According to their database his grandfather, John Walker, dug it personally, and for some time at the beginning it was the colony’s only source of drinking water. Representative Walker probably remembers his grandfather telling stories about that time. His family derives status from that well. I think you’ll likely find something similar if you challenge Representative Patel on this land.” You get out your PADD with a map of the colony. “When Hebden split from Longridge, her family grew the first crops here.”

“Yes.” Sarek looks thoughtful. “This does explain the behaviour we have seen, and provide a hypothesis which we may test going forward.” He looks at you again, something in his expression you can’t quite read. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

The bronze plaque reading “John Walker Memorial Well” is being installed as you leave aboard the USS Jemison. Sarek isn’t with you, since he’s returning to Vulcan on his own ship, and you find yourself thinking about him as you review the agreement between the settlements and prepare for your next assignment. He hadn’t been what you had expected, and after your talk in the garden he had checked with you over several other points of negotiation. You had enjoyed watching him work, and you wish you were able to spend more time with him.

And – you couldn’t really let yourself think about it on the planet, but he was attractive. His eyes. His face. His voice. Very attractive. But a Vulcan isn’t going to be interested in a human, you tell yourself. And who knows when you’ll even see him again?

Again is months later. There’s a Federation summit on Earth and almost the entire Federation Diplomatic Corps has descended on Paris. You’re supporting the Zaranite delegation. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but you feel a little creeped out by their masks; you understand they can’t breathe in an oxygen atmosphere but you don’t really see why they have to cover their eyes, too. The black slits are intimidating and narrow, and you think intimidation must be the point since their field of vision must be constrained. Regardless, you can’t watch them, not in the way you like. You can’t tell how they feel.

You tell yourself, however, that you are a professional, even if you don’t understand them. And even if they aren’t especially influential they still deserve competent support.

But the work isn’t terribly interesting: there’s nothing personal here, no real stakes, just checking language, ensuring the Zaranites have the correct paperwork – well, PADDs – to hand.

Socialising with your friends in the Corps is more fun. You’ve always loved Paris, from the first moment you looked down on it from the Eiffel Tower, and it’s good to catch up with Mark, Kelechi and Evan who joined the service at the same time as you, over good food and wine. But when, at the bottom of one-too-many bottles of Côtes du Rhône, Evan hits on you... you just aren’t interested. He seems a little juvenile, honestly. But you let him down gently.

On the third morning of the summit, though, you are summoned to see Consul Galea.

“So, I’ve had a request for your services,” she says, without preamble, as her aide waves you straight into her office. Her dark eyes are slightly incredulous, you think.

“From who?” At least the Zaranites don’t appear to have complained, which is what you’d been worrying about since receiving her message.

“Ambassador Sarek,” she says, raising her brows. “Apparently you made a good impression on that backwater colony. He finds his current assistant insufficient and would ’value your organisational skills and clear thinking.’”

“Wow, okay,” you say, feeling your skin warm a little. He had made an impression on you, but you had not thought you would have made one on him.

“Naturally I can’t say no to the Vulcan ambassador. You’ll be supporting him for the rest of the summit. I’ll assign someone else to the Zaranites.” She taps a control on her desk. “You’d better get going; Sarek will need you at 09:00. I’ll make sure all the paperwork is waiting for you.”

“Attaché,” Sarek says as you sit by him.

“Ambassador Sarek,” you say, nodding. You’ve had half an hour to get up to speed on his part of the negotiation, and you hadn’t let yourself think about... him. But there he is, with those blue-grey eyes, handsome face, deep voice. But no. This is emphatically not the time.

You don’t have the time, anyway. You would love to know which of your colleagues left Sarek’s paperwork in such a mess so you can have a word about it; just because he’s a Vulcan and logical doesn’t mean he can do both his job and yours at the same time. But you apply yourself and get everything sorted, and by midday you’re on top of it all, and able to properly support the ambassador. There may not be personal stakes to this but Sarek’s part of the negotiation is a lot more interesting.

“Thank you for your assistance today, Attaché,” he says as the session winds up. “I have found your presence to be...” he hesitates. “To be... most helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Ambassador.” You nod and smile, stowing your PADDs in their case. What had he been going to say? He doesn’t give you time to speculate, however.

“I was wondering if you could be of further assistance to me this evening. I have been... struggling... to find appealing sustenance. I am unused to using the synthesiser for an extended period of time, but I am having difficulty finding alternatives in Paris which are compatible with my dietary requirements.”

You nod, understanding. Traditional French food is not known for being vegetarian friendly.

“Of course, Ambassador. May I ask – are you happy to eat non-meat animal products, like eggs and dairy? If the animals’ welfare is assured?”

You take him to a little galetterie that you and Kelechi had happened upon a few years ago, during your second time in Paris together. It’s small, on a back street near the Bastille. The sort of place that locals go rather than tourists. It’s one of your favourites, and you try to go back every time you visit Paris. You enjoy the traditional Breton food, and the atmosphere – it’s friendly, quiet, and unpretentious. And you’re confident they will have plenty of vegetarian options for Sarek, as you sit opposite him at a dark wooden table covered in a crisp white tablecloth.

You both have the galettes – thin savoury pancakes freshly made with buckwheat flour – folded round cheese, eggs, mushrooms in cream and garlic sauce, and vegetables. You enjoy your food, alongside Breton cider served in a delicately painted bowl. You think Sarek relishes his, too, although he drinks the non-alcoholic fresh apple juice instead.

You find his conversation very interesting. He tells you of the planets he’s visited, and some details about Vulcan and its culture. You have to hold yourself back, a little; you don’t want to pry but you can’t resist asking a few questions about him personally. He tells you his father translated Surak’s teachings into English, and you make a mental note to get a copy.

He asks you about your life, too. Nothing overly personal, but he asks about the town you grew up in. What human schools are like. Details about Earth from a human perspective.

It’s later than you expected when you leave the restaurant.

“Thank you. For the meal and the enlightening discourse,” Sarek says as you prepare to part ways.

“Thank you, ambassador. I enjoyed this evening.”

He looks at you, then, something appraising about his glance. You can’t tell what conclusion he has come to, though. He nods. “I will see you tomorrow.”

As a mere attaché your accommodation is out towards the suburbs, and you have time to think on the metro-shuttle back. You had enjoyed yourself, a lot. If you were being honest with yourself, you had a better time than you had with your friends. If Sarek were to hit on you...

But he’s a Vulcan. You know nothing about their relationships, and the first lesson you learn about Vulcans is that those are questions you do not ask. You sigh, staring out the window at Paris rushing by. It’s not like you’ll see him again after this week, anyway. He’ll probably go back to Vulcan, and Consul Galea will have your next assignment ready.

First thing the next morning you send a message to Marin, Consul Galea’s aide, and just after your lunch break he delivers. You hope Sarek doesn’t notice you quickly checking your personal PADD, but he’s busy in conversation with a member of the Tellarite delegation.

“Ambassador,” you say, as you pack away your work. “Have you made plans for dinner this evening?”

“I have not,” he replies, grey-blue eyes looking at you with interest.

“I took the liberty of doing a little research, and I have a personal recommendation for a vegetarian restaurant from an aide who works in Paris full time. Would you like to try it with me?”

“I would. That was very... thoughtful, Attaché.”

The restaurant, near the Place Charles de Gaulle, specialises in North African food, and you enjoy flatbreads with hummus and baba ganoush, tabbouleh, and a vegetarian tagine with harissa and apricots. But better than the food is Sarek’s company, once again.

You wish, as you stand at the end of the Champs-Élysées and look through the Arc de Triomphe at the angular Grande Arche de la Defence almost glowing in the distance, that the summit was going to last longer. But the signing ceremony is tomorrow, followed by the official dinner, which as an attaché you are too junior to attend.

The following day you work as normal, highlighting last minute changes to the treaty’s wording for Sarek to review and uploading his edits as he debates with the Andorian representative. But somehow you get the impression that there is something on the Ambassador’s mind. You think he’s watching you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, and you’re not sure what to make of it.

You put it out of mind instead, and as the work winds down as preparations begin for the signing ceremony, you think about what you might do this evening. Perhaps go up Montmatre and look down on the city by night.

“That’s the last of them,” you say, as you had a PADD over for Sarek’s signature. The signing ceremony will be old fashioned with pens and paper, mainly for the media, but the actual agreements are signed off digitally.

“Once again I thank you for your support, Attaché. I believe we work efficiently together.” He pauses for a moment, giving you one last appraising look. “I am leading a seminar on human relationships on Vulcan next week, and I would like to ask for your assistance.” You blink at him, surprised, but he continues. “It seems logical to have a human present, and from our time working together I believe you would be a good choice to educate other Vulcans. I have sought permission from Consul Galea. She is willing for you to go, but wanted me to ask you since it is not strictly within the remit of your job.”

“Uh, yes. Having a human there would be logical.” You nod, trying not to sound too eager. “I will... assist.”

The seminar room in the Shirkar Academy is large and airy. There are floor to ceiling windows down one side, looking out over the city of Shi’Kahr, and there are two rows of pale wooden desks curved into a semicircle around a large screen. You can just see the desert in the distance.

Every desk is occupied, and as you watch the assembled Vulcans, you are nervous.

You have done your fair share of talks – to colleagues, and sometimes in negotiations. You could do the one on the Advantages of Federation Membership in your sleep (and according to Kelechi, who had been sharing a room with you the night before the first time you’d had to give it, you actually had). But this is different. You resist the temptation smooth your clothes; you may be nervous but you don’t need everyone to see it.

You had to admit that Sarek has done a good job with the presentation section. He goes through a through a brief history of types of relationships on Earth, including times and societies where women had been treated like property, and relationships and marriages were often treated as a property transaction. He also covers some things even you are not too familiar with, like societies that practice polygyny and polyandry. The audience seems engaged, taking notes.

He spends a little longer than you expect on arranged marriage before handing over to you.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that the Vulcans are aliens who probably don’t have many preconceived notions on the subject so there’s no need to feel awkward, and begin.

“Thank you Ambassador. I’m going to speak to you today on the types of relationship you’re most likely to encounter in the humans you meet, and then open up for questions and discussion.

“These days humans will most often enter into a romantic relationship with one other human at a time. These may be casual, as in the case where the two partners are getting to know one another, or sometimes because they have other things going on in their lives like work or travel which preclude the formation of a more serious relationship. It could also be because they enjoy sex with each other and don’t want anything more...”

You go on to discuss love and long term relationships, marriage, negotiating things like exclusivity and cheating, and a brief discussion of the two parent family as a common basis for child-rearing.

“Finally, it is important to note: not all humans are in or even desire to be in a relationship. Some humans are uninterested in the concept of romance or sex altogether. Others wish to pursue careers or other time-consuming activities and do not feel they could give a relationship proper attention. And some humans would be open to the idea of a relationship, but haven’t found someone they would like to enter into one with.”

You look round the room. You can’t really gauge how things are going; they seem attentive, at least.

“Does anyone have any questions?” You nod at a older Vulcan on the back row who has raised his hand.

“Are there specific ceremonies for humans wishing to undergo marriage?”

You relax. A safe question to start. “At its most basic form marriage is a legal contract, so can be performed by someone with legal standing to do so, the couple wishing to marry and a witness. It can be as simple as signing a document. However, there are a lot of traditions surrounding marriage. A more common ceremony would involve the exchanging of vows, and often rings to be worn as a visible sign that a human is married.”

You go on to cover traditional ceremonies, elopement, wedding clothes...

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. I note that you do not wear a ring. Are you married?”

“No, I am not.”

He nods, and you gesture to a younger female on the front row.

“I have read about virgins and virginity in human literature, but I do not understand the concept. Can you explain it please?”

Oh gosh. “The most basic definition of a virgin is someone who has not had sexual intercourse. In the past in some societies a woman primarily but sometimes a man too would be expected to be a virgin when they entered into a marriage. This isn’t the case anymore but losing one’s virginity, having sex for the first time, can be... uh... important, to some people. And there may be a perceived stigma around humans who are older than say... mid twenties, who have yet to have sex.”

“Thank you. You said you were unmarried; do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? Are you a virgin?”

You blink, resisting the temptation to look at Sarek for support. You should have expected this, you think, feeling a little weak.

“There are some questions that it is... inappropriate... to ask humans. Asking whether a human is a virgin is always inappropriate, even for another human, unless you know each other incredibly well. So I will not be answering that, and I would recommend that you don’t ask another human. But no, I do not have a—a partner, at the moment.”

Safer questions follow, on things like how long it’s appropriate to be in a relationship before marriage, and divorce and how that’s accomplished. Questions about how partners are chosen, and even one about love at first sight. Then—

“How would you know if someone is interested in pursuing a relationship with you?”

“You—uh... it’s difficult. Someone might hit on you,” you say, wincing mentally, thinking of Evan. “That is, they may say something to express an interest. But a lot of the signs are physiological, and difficult for us to recognise consciously. Like... someone’s pupils may dilate when they talk to you. Or they may lean in toward you, mirror your actions. They may ask you questions, try to get to know you. Find opportunities to spend more time with you. But it can be difficult.” You shrug. “Sometimes it takes a friend to tell you they think someone is interested in you. But if you want a relationship, and think they may too... sometimes you just have to ask.”

You are relieved when the seminar is over, and gratified when the organiser at the academy makes a point to thank you, both for the presentation and your willingness to answer questions candidly.

Afterward you think Sarek will take you to the Federation Embassy, but instead he steers his desert flyer out of the city. Part of you wants to ask where you’re going, but you trust him, so you enjoy the ride as the city gives way farmland, and forest. You skirt the edge of forest and desert for a while, then Sarek turns the flyer through the trees and stops in an open area.

Your eyes widen as you exit the speeder; you have always heard of Vulcan as a desert planet, but in front of you is a large body of water, waves gently lapping on a sandy shore. You turn to Sarek.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, and you think you see satisfaction in his expression.

“This is Lake Yuron. This part of the shore is quiet and I frequently come here when I wish to meditate. I... appreciate the calm.”

He walks toward the water and you follow. You stand together, watching the waves as they go in and out. The water looks different, somehow, to lakes on Earth, as it reflects the more orange tint of the Vulcan sky.

After a while, Sarek speaks. “Today during the the seminar, you described some of the ways one can tell if a human is interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. I have observed you over the past few days, and I believe you have displayed many of these signs.” He turns to you, stormy eyes reflecting the lake water.

“Are you interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with me?”

You look down at the sand, and swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. But you have to be honest with him. “I am. I find you fascinating. I enjoy your company. And you... are very attractive.” But there’s just no way he can reciprocate, you think. “I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention.” You look back up, hoping he can see the apology in your eyes.

“Although I am an adherent of logic, of Surak’s teachings, it would be... inaccurate to say that I do not experience emotion. I control and suppress the emotions that I feel, and generally that is... satisfying, to me.” He takes a step toward you, closing the gap between you both. He’s close enough to touch.

“I find you... compelling. I lack the proper language to express emotions, but… perhaps I can show you?”

You nod, mutely. You know about mind melds, even though you’ve never seen one performed, much less participated. Your eyes track his hand as he reaches up to touch your face.

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts... to your thoughts.”

The touch of his mind is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and you gasp slightly at the extra dimension that opens up for you, in a direction you couldn’t even have imagined. But you feel safe; you can feel that he is keeping you from being overwhelmed. And then you for a few moments you see yourself as he sees you. Feel an echo of what he feels, even as you share what you feel for him.

As he breaks the connection the only thing you can do is bring a hand up to his face, and kiss him. It’s gentle, almost hesitating at first, but it feels so right as you press together, as the kiss deepens.

You have always watched people; you have never really thought about people watching you. You know they will, though, as you ride back to Shi’kahr: the human partner of the Vulcan ambassador. You won’t be putting on a show, but you find, as you think it over, Sarek at your side, that you don’t mind.

#sarek #sarek x reader #ambassador sarek #s’chn t’gai sarek #Star Trek Discovery #writings of the girl from outer space #regard #ask #request #nonny #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek fanfiction #sarek/reader #sarek x you

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ponnearponfarponwhereveryouare · 3 years

Text

negotiations of home

Pairing: TOS!McSpirk

Summary: Spock takes the time to examine his thoughts (and feelings) towards the Enterprise's captain and chief medical officer. He decides the most logical course of action is to address his findings.

Rating: G | Word Count: 1862 | also on ao3

Spock had long since learned not to say thoughts tied to emotion. Such ruminations had to be examined critically and in such a time and location so as to not interfere with his work. Only in this way could he put logic first, by making a habit of it. He was not sure if this was the process other Vulcans applied, but it was the one that worked best for him.

He knew he was successful when he was able to apply this method around members of his family; with positive emotions and negative. Only in absolute private he might tell his mother he loved her, tell his sister he missed her, or tell his brother that they were still, always, family.

It was best not to think about the emotions that came up involving his father. Or the feelings around the fact that his family was two and a half parts human and two and a half parts Vulcan. Of not being a whole.

Those walls had begun to slip, of late. And that was because he was faced with emotions that were not tangled up in his Vulcan upbringing. Feelings that included a sense of being held together, a chance at healing his two halves.

Which brought him to the matter at hand.

"You're you, Spock!" Leonard snapped, though the anger was not directed at Spock himself. The doctor was pacing about Jim's quarters, while Spock sat at the Captain's desk observing him. "You're not broken! All you have to do in this life is be honest with yourself."

Spock raised a brow. "Is this a time for the old anecdote, physician heal thyself?"

Leonard managed to scowl deeper. "Damn it, man, at least I'm trying. Talking about these sorts of things with someone you trust and care about is important."

"Is that not what I am attempting to do?" Spock asked. Before Jim had been called away to deal with a potential issue among the Enterprise's current guests, Spock had gathered both Jim and Leonard together with the purpose of working through a line of thought that had followed him around for the past 30 days.

Leonard deflated a bit, rubbing his hands together in a nervous manner. Spock attempted not to stare, as the emotions that evoked were ones he had not yet begun to speak of.

"Do not worry, Leonard, I will not continue until Jim has returned," Spock said in a tone he hoped would be reassuring.

"How am I supposed to do that, with you calling us by our names?" Leonard protested, now tossing his hands up in the air.

"It is a personal matter, so it would be illogical to use your professional titles."

"And that's why I'm nervous! Last time you had a personal matter that you had to involve me and Jim in, you were dying or your father was dying." Leonard didn't return to pacing, instead, he crossed the room and kneeled beside Spock. His blue eyes were wide and filled with concern.

"My apologies. I did not mean to raise alarm," Spock said, reaching out towards Leonard. He wasn't sure what he'd do, but he needed such dramatics to end. It brought an uncomfortable warmth that was tempting to lean into. To drown in. “Please, stand.” Spock stopped himself before he actually could touch Leonard’s elbows.

Leonard seemed to take a long enough time pondering this request as to border on his usual teasing. He finally stood, pressing a hand against Spock’s knee as he did. He settled then into Jim’s other chair so that they were now directly across from each other. “So you’re not dying.”

“Not that I am aware of. Though as my doctor, I believe you are to give me such status updates.”

This returned Leonard to a... huffier state. “I’d be able to do that if you didn’t lie to me.”

“Vulcan’s do not lie,” Spock reminded him.

“Oh really? Then it seems like I’ll need a copy of whatever definition you’re using for the word.”

Jim returned to catch that last exchange. “Gentlemen. I see I haven’t missed anything.” He was smiling, coming to lean against the partition that divided his quarters.

Spock found himself calmed by Jim’s presence. “The Andorian ambassador is settled?”

“Yes, Scotty was able to change the climate control settings for her quarters to something comfortable,” Jim said, as he looked from Spock to Leonard and back. “Where were we?”

“Spock was telling us something that is a “personal matter",” Leonard provided. “I’ve got him to promise no one is dying.”

“Statistically in the breadth of the universe and even just among life as we know it, at this moment-”

“Shut it!” Leonard’s tone was supposed to be sharp, but it was too rounded by his own laughter.

“Very well,” Spock turned towards Leonard, both eyebrows raised, and remained silent.

“Jim, look what he’s doing now!” Leonard complained, leaning closer towards Spock, as close as he could get with the desk between them.

Jim’s laughter filled the silence, and he crossed the room to sit on the corner of his desk. “Spock, Bones, come now.” His face was in that easy grin of his, the one Spock associated with times when all was well. “Spock, what did you want to talk to us about?”

Yes, the mission at hand. One that he had set for himself because, given the nature of their work and luck, it seemed best to share his thoughts sooner than later. Spock had planned the words he would say carefully, trying to predict what response he might get. He would not call himself nervous, as that emotion tended to be one of the most illogical.

“Yeah Spock, sorry,” Leonard smiled kindly, leaning back again. His foot nudged Spock’s under the table in what must have been encouragement. Leonard rarely apologized for their mutual antagonization of the other, another sign he was taking this seriously.

“It has come to my attention that I hold you both in strong regard.” Spock thought that was as good a place to start as any, even as his practiced words seemed to fall away. He should have written them down... But that would have no doubt brought Leonard’s amusement and possibly ire. “I also know, while it is not the practice on Vulcan, for many cultures it is customary to let those you care about know of your regard towards them.”

Both Leonard and Jim were silent, which was not one of the responses Spock had anticipated. It was Leonard who finally spoke and said, “Are you sure you’re not dying? Because you just admitted to having an emotion. Several, in fact.”

“Indeed. It was our last away mission that brought me to further examine my feelings towards both Jim and yourself.” Spock had been the one, after 27.8 frantic hours, to find and rescue the captain and chief medical officer. Between coordinating the rescue effort, Spock found his thoughts consumed with things he wished to tell them both. “I... care for you both. My existence is greatly improved by your presence in it.”

He hoped that they could understand all he was not able to say. ‘Don’t leave me, I need you, I missed you, I-’

“Spock,” Jim’s voice was soft, and when Spock looked up at him, so was his expression. “I feel the same.” He then looked towards Leonard, and Spock followed his gaze.

Leonard looked between them both, and his blinking grew more rapid. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Damnit, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you. You’ve both managed to pick up my pieces and put them back together. I can’t remember the last time I felt complete.”

Of course, Leonard, who was better with emotions than either Spock or Jim, would put the words to it: that there existed between them something that exceeded a friendship bond. They had become family. Partners. A tension settled then, the question -

“What do we do?” Jim voiced it. “It’s not as if we can stop going on dangerous missions. That’s not the life we signed up for.”

“I know neither of you could be happy sitting by,” Leonard agreed. “You’re explorers to your cores. And someone who asks you to change your very nature isn’t worth keeping.”

Keep. Spock turned the word over in his mind. “It seems that what is in our power to change is the parameters of our relationship.”

Jim let out a breath that sounded like ‘yes.’

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, that’d be against regulation.” Leonard pointed at Spock. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Affirmative.” Spock had to focus to keep his tone even. This was not one of the outcomes he had let himself ponder. His desire for it would have become overwhelming.

“What about the ol’ needs of the many over the few?” Leonard said, and Spock knew he wasn’t arguing because he was against the possibility now hanging heavy in the room, more tangible than it had ever been before because it had been named. Leonard was making sure Spock was sure; that he was comfortable.

“You are both professionals, whom I trust not to let the personal adversely interfere with the running of the ship.” It was an easier answer than he thought. “I even theorize that such a change in our relationship could improve personal performance.”

“Now that is a theory that I want to test.” Jim moved to stand, so he could face them both fully. His smile was back and wider than Spock could recall seeing it. “I’d like to very much.”

Leonard was smiling now as well. “Why am I surprised that this has been the weirdest way I’ve ever been asked out?”

“Come on Bones, for science,” Jim’s eyes twinkled, and he reached out to catch one of Leonard’s hands. “But more importantly, for... love.”

Spock watched the way their fingers fit together, and almost missed that Jim had spoken the final unspoken word. He looked back towards their expressions, before standing himself and coming closer, to stand between them both.

“Of course I will,” Leonard said. “Spock?”

“Affirmative,” Spock said again, and added, while carefully watching Leonard’s expression. “It should prove fascinating.” Before Leonard could offer a retort to that, Spock held out his index and middle finger to him. A gesture he knew the good doctor had picked up the significance of.

Leonard’s eyes went wide once more, but he didn’t hesitate before reciprocating the gesture. Once he had, Spock felt a wave of affection he could not pinpoint as his own emotion or Leonard’s. Spock then offered the same to Jim, who looked like he had been given a gift to rival his captaincy of the Enterprise.

When Jim’s finger’s met Spock’s, the three of them stood visibly connected in a way Spock knew their lives had already long been. This, then, was proof that he would not lose them. At least, not without making sure they knew what they meant to him.

It spoke of a new beginning, a new adventure, shared between the three of them.

#mcspirk #spock #leonard mccoy #james kirk #jim kirk #bones mccoy #this is very fluffy #it is also a getting together fic #the first star trek fic i have written in YEARS bless a decade old hyperfixation to break writers block #star trek the original series #tos #star trek TOS #a talks #my fic

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electricprincess96 · 3 years

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I think you were the one who talked about this before, with relation to Rhea banning technology and comparing it to Star Trek, and arguing about if a civilization is ready for certain technologies. It's funny because this is actually a field of study, which I only briefly touched upon during two courses. Researching how new technologies get adapted, looking if the inventors/designers need to make a plan in order to help the people using it or if they can use it on their own, etc (1/2)

One example I learned about was an irrigation system for Indian farmers. They were left to their own devices and had no idea how to properly maintain the system, which made the whole technology get neglected after a few years, causing the farmers to have even less water available than they had before the implementation of the irrigation system. (2/2)

Yes that was me who talked about that. It's a long standing moral question in a lot of Sci-Fi but arguably Star Trek would be the most famous example. And the most famous example within Star Trek is the fact the Vulcans shared Warp Space Technology with Humans but then didn't let them use it for many years after that because they deemed them not yet ready to experience the rest of space. Star Trek Enterprise (aka the last good one) did a two parter set in an alternative universe where instead of letting the Vulcans "hold them back" humanity rebelled and stole the Warp Space Technology and used it to conquer most of the known Galaxy and subjugate the Vulcans they captured.

Enterprise had another episode, I can't quite remember the specifics but it was sort of about how they'd somehow left some of their technology on a planet that had two warring factions who's technology was significantly more primitive compared to Star Fleets, and they had to go back and retrieve it because they couldn't let one side get a hold of it because it would artificially tip the war in the favour of whichever side found it and managed to replicate it.

The fact people play 3H and don't grasp the fact that Fodlan is not significantly behind Almyra or Dagda in terms of technology, Fodlan isn't the outlier, the Agarthans are because they got given (and then stole) technology that is clearly too advanced for the level humanity is at at that point in time. If we take the things about Rhea "banning" certain things as truth we know most if not all of them are no longer banned, Manuela performs an autopsy in the game and has a scientific model of the inside of a human body, gun powder exists thus oil must have been harvested, Edelgard can calculate the speed of light so telescopes must exist etc. So if she did ban them she likely only did so till she thought humanity was at the level to be trusted with them (although I more put it down to plot holes but that's just me).

So yeah obviously you've provided a real life example, this is a common moral question that should be asked any time you're introducing something foreign to a large group of people, do they know how to work it, do they know how to maintain it, are they ready to use it responsibly etc. Sothis was too quick to gift her knowledge and technology with humanity the first time thus Rhea isn't going to just hand it out again, if Humanity eventually gain the ability to create similar technology themselves (ie. Flayn and Seteths paired ending, which is ironically not available on CF, which shows how the world has changed and evolved) then that's fine but she is going to try and keep an eye on it.

Plus as has been said before expecting a world with magic to evolve the same type of technology we have is just dumb, there's a reason Wizards in Harry Potter don't have many of the technological gadgets we do and it's quite simply because they don't need them the way we do. It's the same with Fire Emblem, I don't expect them to invent guns the same way we did for example because they can shoot fireballs from their hands already they don't need guns.

#princess answers asks #nilsh13 #fe3h blogging #lady baea #edel discourse?#i guess it counts

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theknightoflameblogs · 4 years

Text

Dinner Date? (AOS Spock x Reader)

A/N: I think this may just be a part one, I do want to continue the story but I was more eager to see if people were interested first. Also this is meant to be read with either a female, male, or non-binary reader! I have been wanting to do a Spock x Reader for awhile now, this is my first time writing one! Enjoy!

Summary: After being hospitalized (and passing out) in Sickbay from a dumb choice you made while on mission, you are surprised to find that Commander Spock had stayed by your side while you slept.

Word Count: 3,338

Warning: Swearing and a sarcastic Bones and cute moments

---

“Shit. Shit. Holy- FUCK!” Was all you could manage to say as a sharp pain twisted into your side. You were currently in Sickbay after having collapsed on the floor just outside of the bridge, nearby crewmen immediately rushed you to a not-so-happy Dr. McCoy.

“Damn it, man, I told you not to eat that planet’s weird berries!” McCoy said in a frustrated tone as he pulled out his scanner. “It’s only been what- two hours? And you are already showing symptoms of infection in your abdominal region that would usually take years to develop!”

“How can you be so sure…” You breathed, gripping at your stomach which started to cramp. “...that it was the berries?”

“Mm, I dunno (Y/N), maybe because of the fact that Jim and I had no berries whatsoever and we seem to be doing perfectly fine. It’s no coincidence, damn it!”

Nausea passed over your body in massive waves, you applied pressure via your fingertips between the two tendons on your wrist in an attempt to get the feeling to cease. You remembered seeing this technique in an article somewhere, but you were pretty sure that the article didn’t take into account your situation. “Well the natives said... that eating the berries was a sign of a... good spirit… a way to connect with them. It’s called respecting...tradition. Something you and the Captain… refused to do.” The fact that it was taking so much energy to construct sentences both amazed and horrified you.

“Maybe those berries weren’t meant for humans.” McCoy grunted, walking out your line of sight. “Just because you're some diplomat representing all of Starfleet doesn’t mean you have to go around eating weird foods for the sake of tradition.”

“Bones,” You declared. “I could really do without the lecture right now.” You only felt worse the longer you laid there, your forehead broke out into a sweat and your face grew hot. You pictured McCoy getting his instruments together from the sound of metal clinking against metal, at least that is what you hoped he was doing.

“Alright! Alright, hold on…” He said, fumbling with what sounded like a plastic bag. “Damn... what would that green-blooded hobgoblin think of this?”

“You mean Commander Spock?” You asked, even though you understood what he meant. “What does he have to do with-” a sharp sting entered the side of your arm as your asshole-of-a-friend, and trusted doctor, injected you with a large syringe. “-Oh, what the hell was that?!”

“That-” McCoy said, holding up the syringe defiantly, “-just saved your life. Well, maybe. Give it an hour or two, your fever should already be going down. The pain will subside in no time.”

“Jesus, Bones, you could have at least warned me before stabbing my arm!"

“Well it’s not supposed to hurt so much without a warning.” You heard him say, but you were more focused on the white walls within the Sickbay, which were beginning to blur into everything else until it became one muddy display. It made your eyelids feel heavy.

“Everything is so abstract looking…” You said half-consciously, watching as different colors danced in front of your vision.

“Well I’m no Picasso, much less a painter,” You heard him say, or maybe you just imagined it. It didn’t matter though, seeing as all the sounds and sights were becoming one big jumble. It didn’t stay this way for long before everything went completely black.

You have been abroad upon the Enterprise for almost a year now, part of its five-year intergalactic planetary voyage. As a Starfleet diplomat, you were stationed on the bridge and tasked with regulating Starfleet protocol and managing peace-treaties and negotiations. Through this job, you befriended many on the Enterprise, especially those stationed on the bridge with you. You were quick to become friends with the notorious (or so he thought) Captain Kirk, as well as others like Lieutenant Uhura and the pilots, Mr. Sulu and Chekhov.There were even people beyond the bridge like Mr. Scotty down in Engineering who you managed to get well acquainted with. You were simply amazed by all these different and infatuating personalities you had come to know, but there was one person- or rather, an alien- who you had come to admire the most aboard your time here.

Commander Spock.

You were only to report on the bridge three days out of the week, the rest of your time was spent helping to ease the tension between antsy crewmen who were getting themselves into disputes and fistfights (even though it was not in your pay grade, and was sure as hell not part of your job description either) and even assisting the Chief Officers in preparation for meetings in the department they resided over (which was part of your pay grade).

It was a small attraction… at first.

The Enterprise was only four months into its five-year voyage whenever the Captain tasked you to assist in preparing and partaking in an introductory meeting (really it was more of a banquet) for the Science Department. The last two months had already taken up your time with meetings (*banquets) in other departments: speaking on behalf of Starfleet, introducing yourself to the staff and crew, helping them adjust to life aboard a starship, answering to millions upon millions questions and concerns. Today would be no different, or so you thought.

You entered the science lab with a clipboard full of notes you were preparing to say in your speech. Contrary to others’ belief, you never used the same speech twice, you took too much pride in your work to do so- except for those few rush jobs where the only thing you managed to have on hand was a speech about how cute yet terrifying Tribbles were. The memory of all those confused faces in the crowd during a Starfleet conference still haunted you to this day. The Admiral was to say, in the very least, displeased.

Awaiting by a table of fliers was the Enterprise’s chief science officer. His back had been turned to you when you entered the lab, and he was still unaware of your presence as you drew closer to him.

“Commander.” you greeted, yet received no reply. That was odd, with you being the only other person in the laboratory besides him, he had to have heard you. Maybe you just weren’t being loud enough. Determined, you took another step closer. “Commander!”

Still, no reply. By now you managed to get close enough to see his face, and you were rather more perplexed to see that his eyes were closed. Odd. You weren’t well educated enough about Vulcans to know if this was some ritualistic standing sleep-like state they put themselves in, but it reminded you of a similar nature that some of the Terran animals back home displayed.

“Just like a horse…” You murmured, before slowly reaching up to touch the Vulcan’s face. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him. He stood there perfectly, his face was so mellow, so clear of emotion, he almost looked like some sort of statue…

A hand caught your wrist before a finger could even graze his cheek, a shock ran through your body, it scared the shit out of you. “What is like a horse?” Commander Spock asked, staring down at you with his full, dark eyes.

You quickly (and embarrassingly) pulled your hand away from his grip, holding it protectively close over your hammering heart. “C-Commander Spock, I-I thought you were asleep!”

“I was not sleeping.” He responded in a calm tone. He straightened his posture and placed his hands behind his back. “I was meditating.”

“Nervous?” You asked half-jokingly. “The whole department is going to be here tonight, things can go wrong, but it will be alright.” It was apparent you were saying this more for your own benefit rather than his.

“I find it illogical to be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Based on what I could gather from your involvement in past assignments, Lieutenant. I trust you are more than qualified to execute this meeting successfully.” He replied with a small smile.

You felt your heart swell at the praise, and you smiled right back.

After that day, you and Commander Spock maintained a mutual friendship: greeting one another with a nod or smile as you passed by in the hallways or having small (but quite educational on your part) talks while riding the lift, it never went beyond that, but you didn’t mind. You felt like your growing attraction for him had to be limited in some way, seeing as his thoughts on you are nothing but platonic.

…

...Lieutenant?

Lieutenant (L/N)? Can you hear me?

You felt a rough shake of your shoulders, pulling you straight out of the darkness in a start.

“Doctor, I believe that was an unnecessary course of action. The Lieutenant was already waking up.” A familiar voice said.

“You’re overreacting, Spock. (Y/N) needed a jumpstart.” Another voice responded.

You looked around the room quickly, watching as the blurred figures started to take appropriate shape and form. It was Dr. McCoy and Commander Spock, both peering down at you. Immediately, McCoy started to check your vitals asking you clipboard questions like: How are you feeling? Is there any pain when I do this? Commander Spock on the other hand stood idly by with his hands behind his back, his face could be read as stoic if it weren’t for the fact that his eyebrows were furrowed. It actually surprised you to see him here, but you had a feeling that it had to do with the details of your mission.

"Oh man…" you grunted as you sat up slowly. "How long was I out for?"

"Approximately for five hours and twenty-one minutes." Spock responded.

"Yeah, because (Y/N) was so worried about the exact number of minutes they missed." McCoy said with a loose smile, despite the gruff tone in his voice.

"I may not be well acquainted in human social cues, Doctor-" Spock said, turning his gaze on McCoy, "-But I believe you are using sarcasm. In your case, this would not be uncommon."

"Well good job, Sherlock. Seems you cracked the case!" McCoy said with false praise.

Spock went to open his mouth, you could tell he wanted clarification by the way his gaze narrowed, but instead, he diverted his attention back onto you. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

It was a question that surprised both you and the doctor (or maybe he always looked that confused). “I feel fine-” You said abruptly, “Well, at least I think I do. Am I, Bones?” You nervously looked over to your friend.

“Yeah, you’re fine.” McCoy responded, waving his hand casually. “All we had to do was pump your system full of antibodies and just like that, infection was gone. Thank God we aren’t living in the Dark Ages.”

The Commander approached your bedside. “It seems the berries initiated a rapid case of abdominal infection known to your species as colonic diverticulitis. It’s quickening effects seem to have caused a trauma in your nerves, specifically your sensory nerves, leading them to send incorrect signals. Which explains your disassociation with reality.”

“Alright, Mr. Know-it-all, I’m the doctor here.” McCoy said with a grumble, before addressing you. “It just means those berries infected your bowels and started blending your five senses together like one big smoothie.”

“That is rather an inaccurate description, but yes, the Doctor is somewhat correct.” A slight grimace was in Spock’s voice, causing you to smile. The two always had differentiating opinions. Watching them react to one another like highly-active mind fields was quite entertaining.

McCoy only shook his head in irritation, “Which means, (Y/N), no more eating any foreign soul-binding berries, you hear? I mean it.” He was now targeting you, which was not so entertaining.

“Okay. Okay.” You held up your hands in defeat. “I solemnly promise to never eat any foreign soul-binding berries, again.”

“Yeah, well let’s see how long that promise lasts.” He crossed his arms, before a faint smirk appeared on his face. “You know Pointy-Ears here-” he said gesturing to the Commander. “-was worried sick about you. Got here as soon as you passed out, didn’t even leave your side when writing his report to command.”

You felt your face grow hot at the news. He waited here for you? He wasn’t in the landing party with you when you beamed down onto that planet… you didn’t know how to take this news. But knowing you, you must have been overthinking it, he was just being friendly after all. Still, you had to force yourself not to cover your face in shame as you knew it was red with embarrassment. You didn’t want your friend (and doctor) or the Vulcan you had come to like so much see your flustered expression.

“I was merely concerned with the Lieutenant’s well-being, as (L/N)’s superior, I saw it only fitting to stay by their side until they got better.” You heard him say.

When you felt confident enough to look up from your bed sheets you were surprised to see Spock staring straight at you.

“Uh huh…and I’m the king of Mars.” McCoy sarcastically said with a taunting smile that you wish you could smack off his face. He probably didn’t even know what he was embarrassing you by doing this.

“Doctor, the United Martian Colonies is governed by a uniglobal government, it does not have an establish monarchy-”

“How about I get a drink, and you finish that thought later. Alright, Spock?” Bones interjected with eagerness. “(Y/N), you’re free to leave whenever. From your head to your toes, you are medically sound.”

“Thanks to you, Bones.” You replied.

“Please, it’s only my life’s work.” He said, waving his PADD up in the air knowingly. “And if you need me, which you better not, I’ll be in the bar- drinking the day away.” With that, he disappeared out the door.

You turned your attention over to Spock, who had his gaze on the door. You decided it would be best to head out as well, seeing as you couldn’t control your heartbeat, you were sure you looked like a tomato with how frequently your face was turning red. "Well I guess I’m free to leave since my doctor suggested so." You say in a means of farewell.

The bed's mattress shifted under your weight as you slowly began to peel yourself off from it, it took awhile, seeing as the way you had been laying on it for the past five hours made you stiff,

"I have to agree with the Doctor's earlier statement." Spock said, grabbing your attention. "Your actions were reckless and could have been fatal if it were not for him."

"Understood, Commander.” You responded formally as you pulled on your yellow blazer over your tank top. You felt somewhat dejected, but shook that feeling away. He was concerned because he was your commanding officer. That gesture alone should have been satisfying enough.

“I typed up a mission report and sent it to Command, they requested that you send in a report as well.”

“Thank you, Commander.” You replied, grabbing your Command insignia off of the end table before reattaching it to your uniform. “Have the natives of the planet decided whether or not to join the Federation?”

“I’m afraid I do not know. I was... preoccupied at the time.”

He must have been talking about the report. Thinking about it now, it would be best to complete yours now while it was still fresh on your mind. It was only fair to your Commander that you got it done as soon as possible.

“Well I better head-” You started.

“Lieutenant, I was wondering-” Spock also initiated taking another step forward.

The sound of the entry door sliding open stopped you both, it was Captain Kirk.

“I heard what had happened and the natives promised-” Kirk announced as he casually walked into Sickbay. “-they did not know it was potentially fatal to us and assured- am I interrupting something here?” His nonchalant attitude formed into a more devious one as he looked between the two of you.

“Uh, no, you aren’t.” You said quickly. “What did they say?”

Kirk smirked, briefly shrugging his shoulders, before continuing on. “Well everything is all good now. Just about an hour after you were admitted into Sickbay, the natives agreed to join the Federation. Took awhile for them to decide. They sent gifts of apology to you, I had them sent to your room. Of course, if I had known that I would be receiving gifts, I would have eaten some berries too.” He said with a chuckle.

“Captain, that would be highly illogical seeing as the same berries led to the incapacitation of Lieutenant (L/N).” Spock noted matter-of-factly, making you smile a bit. It was well-known that as a Vulcan, his mind-set followed logic to its core, however you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being thoughtful. Or maybe, you were just projecting that into his words.

“And that is why I am in debt to our wonderful Lieutenant, here.” Kirk said with a dramatic bow. “Without (Y/N), the Federation would not have gained a whole planet as its ally today.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched your Captain move across the room like some Shakespearean actor (like running on his tippy-toes and bowing), you decided to play along and twirl dramatically over to him before kissing him on the cheek as though his words just meant the world to you. The scene itself caused an eyebrow-raised look from a clearly confused Spock, the expression alone made you two laugh.

“Am I missing something here?” Spock asked, looking between the two of you.

“Nope.” Kirk responded, lazily putting his arm around the Vulcan’s shoulder, “But you know what you are missing? A nice, hot meal. After such a long day, you two deserve a treat. Go grab something in the mess hall together, Captain’s orders.” He finished with a smirk, making your stomach turn. Why would he say it like that? ...Did he know you liked the Commander? But that would be impossible! You never even mentioned to anyone how you felt about Spock… Were you that obvious?

Before you could open your mouth to say anything, you saw that your Captain was already leaving the room. He turned around briefly and gave two thumbs up and an encouraging nod in your direction, but to your surprise the gesture wasn’t aimed at you, but rather.... at the Commander.

You heard a throat clear beside you and turned to see that Spock was looking you in the eyes. Like, really looking at you.

“Lieutenant...” The way his voice wavered suggested… nervousness. He knitted his eyebrows together and his posture became much more stiff, confirming your suspicions. “...do I have your permission to address you by your first name?”

You felt your cheeks burn again at his request. “You do.” Immediately his body relaxed. “May I, in turn, address you as Spock?”

“Certainly, (Y/N).” He said smoothly, you could tell he was testing out your name. You liked it.

You felt a nervousness build up within you, unsure where this conversation was leading to until Spock spoke up again.

“I would like to request your presence tonight in the mess hall for social engagement and dinner.”

And with that your heart was blown ten thousand light-years away.

“You sure our lovely Captain didn’t bribe you to say that?” You asked half-jokingly, trying not to sound like you were just melted away.

“I do not need persuasion with money or gifts to spend an evening with you.”

How he could say such things without becoming a puddle of embarrassment amazed you. You felt giddy as a warm smile spread across your lips. “Then yes, I would love to have dinner with you.”

“I’ll come by your quarters at eight.” He stated, smiling down at you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

#spock #spock x reader #start trek #star trek aos #fanfiction #cute #part 1 #leonard mccoy #jim kirk #romance #first fanfic

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heartsywritesthethings · 3 years

Text

Fire Force 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Shinra finally entered the building, something seemed a little off with everyone in the station. As he walked through the halls, just about everyone touched him in some way. Not in any gross way, of course, (thank god princess Hibana was out).

Arthur stepped by and bumped his shoulder.

Iris squeezed his arm.

Tamaki covered her chest with one arm and nudged him with her other.

Maki pat his head again.

Hinawa poked him in the forehead.

Vulcan gave him a high five and Lisa gave him a small wave.

Even Licht awkwardly attempted to fist bump him, only to then try and shake his hand, and then eventually just shook Shinra’s closed fist.

Finally, when a thoroughly weirded out Shinra reached the main room, Obi greeted him. The captain didn’t even wait for Shinra to really say anything before wrapping him in a hug. Captain Obi’s strong arms held him close in both a comforting way and also in a way to keep him from running away. Shinra stood frozen for a second, his face pressed against his captain’s chest.

“Uh-” Shinra began, not sure how exactly to react. It was nice, of course, but it was completely strange. Why was everyone being so damn nice to him?

“Shinra, you are a valued member of this station crew. No one here actually thinks that you’re a monster or a devil.” Obi said. And…he said it with such confidence that Shinra almost completely believed him. Tears began to well up in his eyes as the captain held him. Shinra’s arms slowly wrapped around the captain as well and he pressed himself closer.

To hear those words…actually hear those words from someone that he held so highly. Sure, there were times when the captain had said kind words to him, but this just about shattered all of the insecurities that he had been holding up.

Even so…it didn’t seem like he deserved something as kind as this. Everything nice he ever had was taken away, burned, and destroyed. But he didn’t want to lose this. These people and this station– they were the closest thing he had to a family. One of Obi’s hands rested on his head as Shinra began to cry for what seemed to be the millionth time this week.

What a shitty hero. Always crying. Who the hell would want to be saved by such a crybaby hero like him.

“I can feel you talking shit about yourself.” Obi said and his wiggling fingers began traveling up and down Shinra’s back. Shinra yelped and jumped ever so slightly.

“I-I just don’t think that–” Shinra began, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Obi began poking at his sides now.

“Shinra, I demand that you say something kind about yourself right this very moment. That is an order.” Captain Obi said, backing up and crossing his arms over his chest. He raised an eyebrow expectedly, looking at one of his rookies. Shinra’s awkward smile came back again and he looked around the room as if the answer would be found in the half burnt wallpaper surrounding the main room.

“You are taking far too long, Shinra. Come on, this should be easy. Even Arthur could answer this.” Captain Obi said, a smirk showing up on his face. He knew that continuing to push his little rookie that he would only get more flustered. Plus, it seemed that what Shinra really needed to get him in a better mood would be tickles anyways. Everyone in station 8 basically had Shinra’s worst spots mapped out by now.

“U-uh well I, well, you see…I uh…” Shinra stammered, shuffling awkwardly on his feet, moving from side to side. He swallowed thickly. Damn it. Not only was he feeling particularly hateful towards himself, but also the pressure of having to suddenly say something while Obi stared him down…his mind was completely blank.

“Alright, son, your time is up.” Obi said with a clearing of his throat. He walked over to the couch and sat down. He waved for Shinra to follow him. Obi pat the place beside the couch for Shinra to sit. Shinra stood awkwardly for a moment before walking over and sitting down on the couch where the captain had pat. The captain leaned down and grabbed Shinra’s legs, spinning Shinra over so that his feet were in the captain’s lap.

“Now, I will give you one last chance to say something nice about yourself.” The captain said, giving his rookie a sinister smile.

Now, Captain Obi wasn’t normally the one who began tickle fights. He was the one who ended them. So this…this was absolutely terrifying. Shinra tugged on his legs, but it seemed as if the captain had quite the grip on his ankles.

“U-Uh…Well, I can make…some pretty cool fire I guess?” Shinra said and some sparks actually jumped out from his heels as he said so. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. His feet were his absolute worst spot and pretty much everyone in the station knew that. Usually, the fellow fireforce crew saved his worst spot for last, so this was abnormal and absolutely terrifying.

“That was a sad excuse for a compliment. You’ll have to try again.” the captain said.

A finger swiped up his bare left foot.

Shinra squeaked and jerked his leg, but it didn’t budge.

His entire head went empty as all he was focused on how he was absolutely stuck.

Wait, his other crewmates had absolutely known what the hell was about to happen. They weren’t just giving him little touches because they thought he wasn’t feeling good, it was because they were giving him reassurance before he was about to be tickled to death.

“I-hihihi! Wahihihit!” Shinra giggled. The captain shook his head and began scratching at the bottoms of Shinra’s feet. His nails were dull, yet effective. Shinra was already going wild with giggles. His whole body was tense as he attempted to withhold any sort of sparks that may hurt the captain of his station.

“I can’t even understand a word you’re saying now. Are you purposefully not answering your captain?” Captain Obi asked and Shinra groaned through his giggles. Sparks began to fly from his toes as the captain began to claw his hands up and down Shinra’s poor feet.

Shinra was laughing a soft bubby laugh now. He crossed his arms over his stomach as he did. His legs jerked slightly as Obi’s clever fingers danced over different sensitive spots on his feet.

“Ihihihihi! Plehehehease! I’m trhahahAHAHAhihing!” Shinra laughed, twisting his upper half as the captain’s fingers scratched over a particularly sensitive spot on his arches.

“You can try harder than that, Shinra.” Obi said, now aiming at the area just below Shinra’s toes.

“AHA! STAHAHAAP! PLEHEHEHEASE IHIHI AHAHAHA!” Shinra cackled, more sparks raining down from his toes. A few of the hot sparks hit the captain’s hands. Obi winced slightly, but seeing Shinra’s bright smile, rosy cheeks, and tears of mirth made the slight pain worth it. Maybe he should ask Vulcan to get some heat proof tickle gloves.

Shinra threw his head back and laughed. All of the strength to fight back left his body. This was the point that the captain loved the most. This was the exact moment where he knew that Shinra actually loved being tickled. Right where the tickles were driving him too crazy to fight and the laughter released all of the pent up frustration held in his body.

It had been a moment or two before Shinra realized that the captain had actually stopped tickling him. He had been laughing so hard that he hadn’t even noticed. The captain was just sitting on the couch, smiling at him fondly. Shinra’s face turned bright red and he pulled his legs back into himself.

“Did you have fun, rookie?” the captain asked, standing up and stretching his arms over his head as if he had just performed a work out.

“Shut up.” Shinra grumbled, and even though he was trying to pout, his smile wouldn’t let him.

“Now, since ya didn’t actually listen to me, I’ll help you out.” The captain said, kneeling down in front of Shinra. “You are an amazing addition to station 8. You change every life you come across from the better and I hope you realize that everyone here cares about you enough to all come to me and ask me to make you smile.”

Shinra was absolutely dumbfounded. He had thought that maybe Maki had talked to the captain, but he never really thought that all of his fellow crewmates cared that much. Shinra looked down, feeling a little overwhelmed. After everything he had been put through since his mother died, he had never really thought anyone would think of him like a family member.

And yet…

“Thanks, dad.” Shinra grumbled before catching himself. He somehow turned an even brighter shade of red. “U-uh, I mean, captain. Sorry, captain. My bad. I uh meant–”

“You’re a cute kid.” Captain sighed with a small smile and he gently pat Shinra on the head. “Dinner will be ready soon. If you skip, I’ll get Arthur to help me out in teaching you a lesson.”

With that, captain Obi left the common room. He turned the corner and saw just about everyone in the entire station 8 crew sitting around. They all jumped to attention as soon as they saw the captain.

Obi looked Hinawa up and down and just about lost any faith he had in his crew.

“Anyone care to explain why the lieutenant is dressed like a maid?”

(14/25)

-Ga!babe

#25 Days of Fics #14/25 #submission #GA!babe #Fire Force Family #why's he dressed like a maid?#why not #Hinawa does wear the strangest shit #it's amazing #shinra kusakabe #captain obi #captain dad #awwww yeah found father figuressssss #tickle fic

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lacefuneral · 4 years

Note

Hello! If you haven't done them yet for the ship meme, would you answer 4, 14, and/or 21? Thank you!

(ship headcanon meme)

I’m not sure if this is for spirk or daforge so I’m doing both!

TOS Spirk:

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Honestly? Spock. Between being raised with Vulcan values and not being able to form significant interpersonal relationships (due to bullying/xenophobia) I imagine that he’d be incredibly touch starved. Kirk brushes against his arm for the first time. Just a casual, platonic gesture and Spock’s like “I… am not opposed to this.” Because finally, he gets to experience physical contact from another person that isn’t violent in nature. So he welcomes all of the times that Kirk puts a hand on his shoulder, or pats his back, or tugs at a sleeve to get his attention. It reminds Spock that he is safe and cared for.

So when they actually start dating (and they’re no longer secretive about it), it’s just… PDA city. He wants to reciprocate, send those same feelings back to Jim and more. Spock’s leaning on him, hugging him, resting his head on Jim’s shoulder, and holding his hand (like the whole hand - not just ozh'esta). Stuff that by human standards is relatively tame, and not too dissimilar from what Jim was doing before (if a bit more lovey-dovey), but by Vulcan standards is risqué at best, obscene at worst. Anyway, Jim loves every second of it. He’s like “Hello, my gorgeous Vulcan. Yes, you can sit on the armrest of the captain’s chair and thread our fingers together. ;)”

The crew hates it. Like, there’s no lips involved but they know what’s up. You know the vine of the couple holding each other in Panera Bread? It’s like that.

IS THIS ALLOWED? IS THAT ALLOWED?

youtube

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Jim is THE biggest baby when he gets a cold. He just kind of flops over and is like “This is it! I’m going to die!” And Spock just sort of rolls his eyes and brings him his cough medicine, or whatever they have in the future. And he’ll open up a book of Vulcan poetry, and read to Jim in his dulcet baritone until he eventually falls asleep.

Spock, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. He’s exceedingly stubborn, and refuses to stay in bed. Instead, he’ll try to suit-up in full hazmat gear (to avoid contamination) and run experiments in his lab. Until Jim catches him, of course, and does his usual: “Ah, ah, ah! No you don’t, mister!” Drags him back to his quarters, tucks him into bed, and climbs under the covers with him to keep him nice and warm. (Because Vulcans are cold-blooded.) Eventually, Spock relents, and falls asleep while Jim spoons him and gently strokes his hair.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

It’s the places they don’t go together that makes them nervous. There’s always that fear where, if only one of them goes on an away mission, the other won’t be there to protect him from danger. But having the bond helps. They’re able to check in with one another, even from a great distance - even when communicators are unhelpful. And that eases the worry somewhat.

That being said…

Spock always feels weird about going back home to Vulcan, because he has a lot of bad memories there. He worries that he’ll encounter people who harassed him in his youth, or that people will be hostile towards his human bondmate. And Jim worries for Spock, doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or afraid of his homeworld. And he reminds Spock of how much he has accomplished, and assures him that he will make a fine ambassador someday. That the xenophobia he faced as a child is becoming a thing of the past, and that he has the same right to be there as any other Vulcan. And that no matter what happens, Jim will always love and support him. The first couple of trips are rough on them both, but eventually they manage to not only feel comfortable visiting Vulcan, but greatly look forward to it. Spock always takes him to museums and historical sights, and Jim eagerly learns about the culture so he can understand his husband better.

Daforge:

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

I feel like at first, both of them would be really awkward about any sort of contact. Because Data isn’t sure when he should hold hands with or kiss Geordi. Where is that behavior acceptable, and where is it not? How does he know if that’s what Geordi wants? Meanwhile, Geordi assumes that because Data is an android, he just… has no interest in that sort of thing. And that, if Data did reciprocate, he’d only be doing it to please Geordi and not because he genuinely wants to do that. But eventually Data asks Geordi if he can kiss him, because he loves him and wants to “Express this through a physical gesture.” And Geordi’s like: uhhhh yeah, of course you can! And the awkwardness completely diffuses after that.

Once Geordi has been reassured that Data genuinely wants physical affection - that the feelings are mutual - he readily initiates it. Lots of arms-around-the-waist-smiling-against-his-back “Hey, babe. We still on for chess today?” Lots of standing-on-the-tips-of-his-toes to give Data a quick peck on the lips. If he’s feeling ambitious (and no one else is around) he might even give Data a playful smack on the butt, which never fails to make the android blush.

But Geordi isn’t the only one who does PDA. Data, for his part, is fond of kissing the back of Geordi’s hand like a Victorian suitor. Sometimes, he’ll kiss Geordi’s forehead (because it’s easier than craning his neck all the way down to kiss his lips). Or, when he’s feeling ambitious (and no one else is around), he’ll abruptly hoist Geordi into the air and carry him bridal style, which never fails to make the engineer blush.

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Data has this On Lock™. Just like he has done with Spot, he’s programmed a vast collection of soups and teas into the replicators that he’s designed for Geordi when he gets sick. (He always requests his mom’s chicken noodle soup, though, so that particular endeavor was a waste of time.) He ensures that the room is kept at an optimal temperature, that the lights aren’t too bright (in case Geordi decides to put on his VISOR), that the sound of ocean waves are playing in the background, the humidifier is running, that there’s a box of tissues and a bag of cough drops nearby, and even gives Geordi a giant teddy bear to hug if he has work to do or if he’s summoned to the bridge.

Otherwise, Data cuddles up alongside him and helps to keep Geordi’s fever down by lowering his own temperature - essentially turning himself into a giant ice pack. He massages out any sore muscles, he rubs Geordi’s back if he throws up, and he regularly updates Dr. Crusher on Geordi’s status three times an hour, just in case. We love a caring boyfriend.

Data doesn’t really get sick, because he’s an android, but he does occasionally experience a malfunction or receives damage during an away mission. During those times, Geordi just softly talks to him and assures him that everything is going to be okay while he performs the necessary repairs. Sometimes he sings to him. I’d like to imagine it’s this song by Billie Holiday. :’)

youtube

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

After the whole Kivas Fajo incident, they tend to stick very closely together when they’re dealing with cargo freighters, scavengers, and “collectors.” Not just for Data’s sake, but for Geordi’s. His VISOR has been stolen multiple times - with the intention of being traded for bars of gold-pressed latinum. They both watch out for each other, and they do alright - but it’s still stressful to have to be vigilant during these times.

#spirk #daforge #tos #tng #replies #jay.txt #anonymous

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songbookff · 4 years

Text

For @nuschapel ... something a little domestic.

Sarek/Amanda after learning that Spock has chosen to teach at Starfleet Academy. Takes place in the AOS timeline...probably. Not too worried about details in this one. I’ve never really written Amanda before, so please let me know what you think.

“You’re pouting.”

Sarek looked up from his book to blink blankly at his wife. Amanda was flipping through her own book on the couch across from him in their living room. His wife had a habit of making illogical comments instead of being forthright with him about whatever was bothering her in order to get a reaction from him. It was one of the human traits he did not care for. He also believed that it amused her to accuse him of un-Vulcan-like behaviors.

However, after the many years of their marriage, he had learned he should address her comments before they turned into a disagreement. Statistically, this resulted in the chance his being in the proverbial house of dogs (a terran expression he still did not fully understand) much less likely. Therefore, he closed his book and stated: “I know better than to remind you that Vulcans do not pout.”

“I would disagree, but that isn’t what I want to talk about.” Amanda closed her book as well and straightened her back. Usually, she would have a teasing smile, but today her jaw was pulled tight. This was unusual. “You are unhappy that Spock will remain at Starfleet Academy to be an instructor.”

Sarek carefully thought his response before replying, “I do not agree this course of action will be beneficial for his career.”

“As opposed to what, exactly?” Amanda crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I do not understand your meaning.” Sarek raised his eyebrow at how his wife rolled her eyes at his reply.

He knew his words would elicit a reaction of this sort from her. Amanda, for all of her human habits, did have one Vulcan quality: she liked to get to the point. Sarek found that if he did not answer her directly on occasion, their disputes would last longer; and he enjoyed debating his wife. She was highly intelligent and often found a perspective he had failed to consider. Of course, she was still wrong on occasion, something she would never admit.

“Sarek, why wouldn’t it be beneficial for his career?” Amanda stood and began to pace, listing off her position, “First, our son has a unique perspective on Federation culture and interactions. It is beneficial to Starfleet to have an officer of his intelligence and background teaching new recruits. Secondly, because of his esteemed status upon graduation and his qualifications, many high-ranking Starfleet officers and Federation employees will want to keep him close. He will meet many people who could useful to him in the future. And third, by allowing him to work at the Academy, he can explore future endeavors outside of Starfleet more easily, as the physical location of the Academy is near the Federation Headquarters on Earth.”

“And?” Amanda’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Sarek knew his wife was holding back another reason. She often held back information in a discussion to use at what she considered to be a more appropriate time.

“And he will be happy.” Her eyes challenged him to disagree with her last statement. “Do you disagree with my reasoning?”

“Your logic is sound,” he conceded. With a bit more thought, he replied, “I believe Starfleet is using him to further their own benefit without consideration of his future. They see him as a connection to myself and believe they can further control Vulcan’s interest by employing my son.”

“That’s rather self-centered, don’t you think?” Amanda’s voice was tart and Sarek was startled at the turn the conversation had taken.

He had not realized she was upset. He thought over the conversation again, as well as their conference with Spock this morning when he told them of his plans. She had expressed her pride and happiness in Spock’s decision during the call. Since then, she had been unusually quiet, now that he thought about it. And just now, she had brought up the conversation with a specific goal in mind. Perhaps he had misspoken at some point and caused her to be irritated.

Therefore, he cautiously responded, “My concern was for Spock’s career, not my own. I believe that Starfleet’s endeavor to cater my good favor will be unsuccessful. Therefore, they could impede Spock’s future endeavors out of spite.”

“You think Starfleet would punish him if you don’t start agreeing with them?” Apparently, Amanda had not seen this as result of Spock’s employment. It was satisfying to convince her of his point. With a sigh she sat down beside him.

Sarek used the opportunity to take her hand. When debating with another Vulcan, this would obviously not be an appropriate action. However, humans considered touch to be a soothing sentiment. Amanda always responded well to hand holding and although Sarek would never admit it, he didn’t see a negative consequence in the act.

“I believe Spock is wasting time when he could be greatly contributing to Starfleet as a science officer or diplomat.”

Amanda bit her lip, considering his words. Then with the smallest of smiles, one Sarek would have missed had he not been studying her face to make sure he was reading her emotions correctly, she said, “There was a time when you thought him joining Starfleet was a mistake.”

“That is irrelevant to the conversation, my beloved.” Sarek still believed it was a mistake. The Vulcan Science Academy would have proven to everyone once and for all that his son was as much a Vulcan as anyone else. The emotional decision to decline the honor of being accepted into the Academy was a poor choice. But the choice had been made; it was illogical to argue over it now.

“I know you want what’s best for him,” murmured Amanda. “But sometimes as a parent, it is our job to be supportive of what makes them happy, even if it may not be what is best.”

“That is illogical,” Sarek pointed out.

“Is it illogical to support your son?”

“If he-”

Amanda was quick to interrupt him, shifting her hips on the couch to look at him straight on. “Is it illogical to support your son, who is intelligent, driven, and trying to do good in the universe?”

“Perhaps not.”

This made her eyes light up and Sarek knew he had said what she wanted to hear. Throughout Spock’s life, Amanda had often had to remind him that their son was half human, like herself. It was something easily dismissed because Spock had studiously adopted his Vulcan heritage over that of his human side. Perhaps this was another one of those times.

“Then you will call him tonight and tell him that you support his decision!”

“I do not support his decision,” he reminded her. “Vulcans do not lie.”

“Fine, don’t say you support his decision, just tell him you support him.”

Amanda let him mull over this choice of words. She was right, of course, that would not be a lie. Sarek did his best to always support his son. He would not have to be specific about exactly what he was supporting. His wife was watching him carefully, waiting for his response. The logical thing to do would be to do as she asked. After all, it would make her happy.

“I will call him after dinner.”

“Splendid!” exclaimed Amanda and Sarek was rewarded with a kiss, both in the Vulcan and human manner.

After many years of marriage, Sarek had learned many things. The most important of those was that the most logical course was to keep Amanda smiling. If he were human, perhaps he would say it was because he loved to see her happy. If he were human, that is.

#sarek/amanda #sarek #amanda grayson #spock #st:aos #star trek #star trek fanfiction #fanfic request

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hurt-spock · 4 years

Text

Fic: Lava 6-?

McCoy kept to his forced promise to Kirk and cut back on his drinking. He made sure he didn't touch a bottle until after his shift finished although this morning, he may have had a shot of vodka before he headed to sickbay.

He wasn't looking forward to doing a medical on Spock but the good news was that his species didn't like touch which meant he count be hands-off without seeming to be rude. True to his nature, Spock turned up exactly on the pre-arranged time, Kirk had accompanied him.

“You're staying for this?” McCoy asked.

“Of course not,” Kirk replied. Turning his attention back to Spock he said: “Come and see me once it's done.”

Spock nodded and Kirk left the pair to it. Without looking at Spock, McCoy indicated the bed closest to them. “This one will do,” he said. Spock headed over and lay on the bed as McCoy paid more attention to his medical PADD that his patient. He absently turned the medical bed on to a shrill alarm and McCoy pressed the mute button quickly. He watched the screen and saw the pain indicator level off and it took him another moment to realize that Spock was controlling the pain. “Keep doing that and you'll be out of here in no time,” McCoy said.

He shouldn't encourage it, he knew that, but he wanted this whole thing to be over with. Usually, he liked to use the hand scanner to check his patient, but he used the scanner he was supposed to use on the medical bed. He'd use the hand scanner to check more thoroughly, worried that the medical bed scanner would miss something and so that he could ask questions about a certain area.

Realizing somewhat ruefully that he was rushing through this as quickly as he could, he did feel a slight stab of guilt. If anyone was to blame it was Jim. He was making this happen. His PADD received the results and he looked them over. “Okay, well your heads a mess but we already knew that,” McCoy says dismissively. He wasn't just being flippant, there was little he himself could do about that. It was a Vulcan thing that needed other Vulcans to sort out. He could use it as part of getting Spock's transfer sorted that much quicker. “So I can give you some pills for the pain if you want?”

“No.”

“Okay. Then I will recommend some sleeping pills and a few supplements to keep you going until you decide to eat properly again. I can see you didn't heed Jim's warning. If you take the pills for sleeping and the supplements you should be good to go in a couple of weeks.”

“Weeks?” Spock said. He seemed genuinely horrified at the prospect of being on the ship for that much longer. McCoy watched one of the indicators, the one that monitored heart rate, start to rise. He was freaking out about it.

Had he been so awful to Spock that he'd reduced him to this? A wreck who couldn't stand the idea of being here for two weeks? Spock worked quickly to control himself and his reading went back to normal. He didn't know what to do. Spock seemed to be on the verge of losing his shit if McCoy pushed him right now. Part of him, the part that got scared by Spock's strength and power over him, that part of him was prepared to write the whole thing off, tell Kirk everything was fine and suggest it was in Spock's best interests to leave ASAP. But there was more going on that just that. He was a doctor. And he couldn't just switch that off. He was concerned with what he'd seen.

“Okay, you're done.” McCoy declared. “You can report to Jim. I'll sort a prescription for what I think will help and drop them by at your quarters later.”

Spock darted off the bed and left sickbay as quickly as he could without a word.

#Star Trek #AOS #fanfic #Spock #Kirk #McCoy

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azritesx3 · 4 years

Text

“A Devil’s Love” Chapter 2: Show Me All I Don’t Know

Description: Chloe’s best friend is back, and Lucifer’s charm can’t seem to affect her either. Is she also a miracle child? Or something…more? [Story starts during S2 Ep4, Female Reader Insert]

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AN: Updated March 14, 2020 - Grammar AN: Updated July 14, 2020 - Grammar/Minor changes

Rating: Teen Warning[s]: Swearing

Show Timeline: Season 2 Episode 9

Spotify Playlist /// AO3 Fanfiction Net Wattpad DeviantArt

Tag List: @ayanna-wild, @anushay1998, @emiwrites3reads, @i-am-canada-13, @heart-of-pots-and-pans, @tinyybiceps, @jessicarene99, @lucifersnipnips, @givemebooksorgivemedeath, @sailor-earth-1

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To say your first couple months back home was a walk in the park would be a big fat lie.

Nothing bad really happened. Well, except when your BFF got in that bad car accident and you swore up and down it had something to do with you, but she pushes you away and says she's fine and can't stand you and Lucifer taking the blame.

Why would Lucifer be taking the blame, you thought. So, you ask him. Like any sane person would do who was overprotective of their friends. If you ended up being wrong about this guy being “good” and “nice”, you had to get him away from Chloe.

But no. He's not bad. Just crazy. What with continuing with his “Devil” shtick and claiming it was one of his “Angel” brothers trying to take what his father, aka “God”, gave him in exchange for a favor.

And you thought you were crazy before, but it wasn't true for you, so why would it be true for him?

Oh, and after that whole fiasco poor Chloe finds out that her real father’s killer has been free all this time. No reprimanding, no worries. Just a cop killer who got to continue his life freely. Turns out the killer was Warden Perry Smith, and he was responsible for many set up kills. You remember the failure you felt when Smith managed to destroy his scent from your hounds. The bastard didn’t get far, though. Maze managed to easily capture him, and from then on became the LAPD’s number one bounty hunter.

But, with all that bad came a lot of good. Not easily, of course. It's hard work trying to find a suitable building in the perfect location for your next veterinarian hospital. You, with the help of your trusty sidekick Alice, managed to find just that though.

Next, while you sorted out the building paperwork and searched for a good construction company, you had to find a place to live. That, thankfully, went much quicker than finding the next “Circle of Life Veterinary Clinic” building.

Chloe kept trying to convince you to move in with her instead of Maze, but you politely declined. You didn't want to be the one who made that badass fighter homeless. Besides, you like having your own space.

And to top all that off, you got your old job back as the Captain of the K9 division of the LAPD. You missed training your dogs & officers, plus having that paycheck, the paycheck from the “COL VC” in New York, and the future paycheck of the next “COL VC” building allowed you to not stress financially.

Currently, you are standing in “COL VC #2” watching the progress come along. You smile as you see how well, and fast, things are going. If this keeps up, you'll be able to open up within the month.

Which means you and Alice need to start hiring people.

You sigh to yourself and rub your forehead, closing your eyes. First things first, you had to find some way to properly thank Lucifer for giving you the name of this construction company.

“They are a fantastic company! Did very fine work in my club. Why not come see for yourself tonight?” Lucifer looked at you like he looked at Alice the first day.

“Not a chance.” You smiled at him and crossed your arms, building up a barrier.

“Oooh, playing hard to get are we?” He licked his lips and looked you up and down, “I like it!”

“Ok. This was obviously a bad idea.” You huffed and started to leave Chloe’s desk.

“Wait, K9!” You stopped and turned back towards him, “I’m sorry, truly.” he looked sincere and placed his right hand over his heart, “Here.” He grabbed the yellow sticky notes and a pen from Chloe’s desk and began to write.

“Just tell the owner that you’re with me.” He handed you the note and smiled, “He'll give you a large discount, I'm sure.”

You looked down at the note and couldn't help the thought of how beautiful Lucifer’s handwriting was, “Thank you, Lucifer.” You looked up at him and smiled, a genuine one this time.

“You’re quite welcome, my dear.” He gave you a genuine smile back, then turned flirtatious again, “Though I would like you to come to my club, so you can see what those constructors are really capable of. It’s so sad their talents will be wasted on an animal clinic.”

“Uh-huh.” You shook your head, still smiling, and walked away.

Your phone’s ringtone knocks you back to the present. The call says it’s Chloe, but when you answer it-

“SOME DADDY KILLER BOY IS GOING TO MAKE ME HOMELESS!” Lucifer’s voice blares through your phone so loud that the workers around turn towards you and you swear your ear is bleeding.

“Sooo, you think the perfect way to stop this ‘Daddy Killer Boy’ is to make me go deaf? Well, you’re doing very well so far.” You bring your phone to your none deaf ear and rub the now deaf one.

“The Detective won’t help me-” you can hear Chloe yelling at him in the background saying to give back her phone. You hear a bit of a scuffle, and can imagine Chloe shaking her head as she gets her phone.

“Sorry about that, Earth. Calling you is the only way I can think of to help Lucifer.” You can tell Chloe is saying that last part to him directly, and can just imagine his eye roll.

“What’s going on?”

“Our new case victim is Dean Cooper.”

“That LA real-estate tycoon guy?”

“Yup. It looks like he died having dinner with his possible killer. The killer looks to have shattered a champagne glass and stuck a shard in Dean's throat.”

“Ouch.”

“Ella’s still at the crime scene trying to piece the glass back together in order to get fingerprints.”

“Oh, Ella.” You smile and shake your head, “What a good little scientist.”

“Agreed, if a bit crazy.” Chloe holds in a laugh, “Well, Mr. Cooper was the one who owned the block that Lucifer’s nightclub is on and it seems like Mr. Eric Cooper, Dean's son, is pretty quick in reclaiming his father’s properties.”

“I see…So I’m guessing he’s suspect numero uno?”

“Yes, but this is why I’m calling you,” Chloe gives an audible stressful sigh, “I just...I can’t seem to keep my mind on this case with the court on Perry Smith right around the corner. Plus, with my mom flying in tonight and Dan being busy with a bomb case-”

“You don’t need to say anymore, Chlo. I’ll take care of this. Just send me the address to the crime scene and I’ll take over.”

“Thank you, Earth.” You can just hear the weight lift off your BFF’s shoulder, “I’ll text you the details right now. I owe you one.”

“This is what friends do for each other, Chloe. You should know that by now.” Before you hang up you can hear Lucifer in the background, “Hurry along, K9! Every minute I get closer to homelessness!”

“Proper thank you, here I come.”

----------------------------------------

As you pull up to the crime scene you see the medics carrying away a body bag, aka Dean Cooper. So there will be no need to worry about seeing a dead man, but there is an angry British man heading straight towards you.

“Finally! Does my homelessness mean nothing to you?” Lucifer says, but despite being upset he still opens your car door and helps you out.

��Lucifer you’re, like, a zillionaire or whatever.” You nod your thanks and you both head inside the dead man's house, “I highly doubt you’d let yourself be ‘homeless’ for more than an hour, at most.”

“But this is LUX, K9.” You try to ignore Lucifer’s desperation and come up beside Ella, who was just about to complete the champagne glass puzzle.

“Annnd, that’s how we do it!” Ella manages to place the last piece perfectly, stands up and shoves her fist in front of your face, “Ta’vonlu!”

“A puzzle solver and a Trekkie?” You laugh and smile, “Ella, I’m liking you more and more each day.”

“Woohoo! Fellow Trekkie!” Ella’s hand goes from a fist to the Vulcan greeting and you return it. Lucifer’s eye roll is incredibly loud.

Ella gets back to work on scanning the glass for fingerprints and in the meantime, an officer hands you a folder of all info found about Dean Cooper. As you skim through the words you become disappointed, and impressed. It was amazing that a shark like Cooper had no record whatsoever.

“So, can we go to this baby shark now to arrest him and get my home back?” Lucifer stands in front of you, hands intertwined together in front of him.

“We don’t have any proof with which to arrest Eric.” You look at him as you hand the folder back to the officer.

“He has motive. That's all the proof you need!”

“Actually, you may have more than that!” Ella calls out and you go to her. She points to her laptop screen where it clearly states that Eric Cooper’s fingerprints were on the glass that killed his father.

“There you go! Come on chop chop!” Lucifer pushes you by the small of your back out the door and to your car, “We’ve got a baby shark to arrest!”

----------------------------------------

You barley park and shut off the engine before Lucifer is out and heading towards the Cooper building, “Lucifer wait!”

“You know, you drive just as slow as the Detective?” Lucifer stops and waits for you to catch up.

“If by slow you mean ‘following traffic laws’ then yeah.” Lucifer just scoffs, “Look, Lucifer.” he looks at you with a bit of interest, he’s never heard you sound serious before.

“I understand how you’re feeling right now, I do,” you lightly touch his arm, “but Chloe has told me how you get sometimes and let me tell you: threatening to tear this guy up or torture him is not going to help you get LUX back, or this case.”

“Very well.” He returns his hand to your lower back and guides you, “I solemnly promise that the man will remain unthreatened and unharmed.”

The sound of a crash and a car alarm blaring causes you both to stop and turn around.

Eric Cooper lays on top of some poor civilian’s car. His body bleeding from almost every pore.

“Not me.” Lucifer holds up his hands in fake surrender.

“Well, shit.”

----------------------------------------

You did miss solving cases. Really, you did.

But this one was turning into a real sack of ass.

Eric Cooper was hospitalized for a full twenty-four hours before the hospital allowed his wife, Christi Cooper, to take him home.

A whole twenty-four hours closer to Lucifer's homelessness, and he would not shut up about it.

You and Lucifer arrive at the Cooper house to question Eric and Christi, but all you two got was another real estate shark’s name, Eleanor Bloom. Plus an extra case of nausea for both of you at the sappy love between Eric and Christi.

Eleanor, it turns out, was a real shark. Making sure Eric wasted no time in selling her that property that his father had been sitting on. That property in question was LUX, and even with Lucifer’s charm she was not giving up that land.

Which pissed Lucifer enough to abandon you with this case. Chloe offered to help, but with her father’s killer’s court so close there was no way you were going to burden her even more. You already swore you would solve this case for her, and you meant it.

You follow up on Eleanor's lead, alone, about some shady numbers found in her accountant's books that looked like someone was hiding money. Turns out that money went to some private investigator Dean had hired to investigate someone, but the man wouldn't tell you who. You had a hunch though.

Your hunch had to be put on hold though as one of your officers comes up to you. He says they got a call about an illegal party happening at a building that was supposed to be abandoned by now.

Of course he would.

----------------------------------------

You stand before the “supposed to be abandoned” LUX nightclub with an entourage of your officers, and just sigh.

Here we go.

You have your men walk in first with you close behind, and you can hear the music cut off and people booing as soon as they see your men.

“Awww!” You hear Lucifer’s voice clearly over the crowd, “Stormtroopers have arrived, everyone! Don’t worry I’ll deal with the boys in blue.” Lucifer walks towards the officers, “You are the boys in blue, yes? The fun boys in blue aren’t due for another hour.” He chuckles and shows a wad of cash in front of your main guy, Officer Miller.

Miller just gives Lucifer a side smile and looks to his side. Lucifer follows his eye movement and his smile disappears as you walk up.

“K9?”

“I know him, Miller. I got it from here.” You ignore Lucifer and look to your officer.

“You’re sure ma’am?”

“Oh yeah.” Now you look at Lucifer as you pat Miller on the shoulder, “He’s harmless.” You don’t speak again until all the officers have left, “I got to say Lucifer, I’m disappointed.”

You think your eyes might be deceiving you, but Lucifer Morningstar actually looks ashamed. You don't know why, but you actually can’t stand to see him like that.

“I mean,” you throw your hands up and turn around a full 360, “this is the first time I come to your club and you’ve got no music playing, and no one dancing around with no worries?”

You smile at him, cross your arms and raise a brow, “Tisk tisk. I may have to leave a one-star review afterall.”

“Oh ho ho!” Lucifer's light returns in him, “Well, I can’t have that now can I?” He’s smiling ear to ear now, “TURN IT UP!”

The crowd cheers as the music comes back full blast. Everyone resumes their dancing, drinking, laughing, and you can’t help but laugh right along with them.

“K9!” You turn to Lucifer who gives you that beautiful smile, “I didn't know you had it in you!”

“There’s a lot you don't know about me, Lucifer.” You smile back at him.

“Evidently! Come on,” Lucifer grabs your arm and pulls you to the dance floor.

“Oh no, I really shou-”

“Come on, K9!” Lucifer laughs and drags you to the dance floor, “Show me all I don't know!”

----------------------------------------

“Oh, now that’s interesting.” Linda watches you and Lucifer dance away together.

“What is?” Mrs. Charlotte Richards, well actually the body of Charlotte Richards that now belongs to the Goddess of all Creation [aka God’s ex-wife and Lucifer’s mother], looks down at the tiny doctor.

“Oh, nothing much.” Linda looks at her and gives a small smile before turning her attention back on you two, “I just thought of something I have to ask a patient of mine about.”

As Linda drinks her martini the Goddess follows her eye line sight and stares at you dancing with her son. Her eye twitches.

“My son was right about you, Doctor.” The Goddess smiles wickedly, “You are incredibly insightful.”

#a devil's love #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #fanfic #fanfiction #azritesx3 #azookiex3

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summerofspock · 5 years

Text

Ravenous: A gift fic about all the ways an unfulfilled bond could manifest

For @wingittofreedom and inspired by several joking conversations with @perphesone @geordilaforge @butterfly-apocalypse @punkspockispunkrock and @grumpybonesey

It’s a normal day on the Enterprise. Which, in the life of Jim Kirk, means that he is recovering from a disastrous mission and trying his best to stay awake in the captain’s chair.

Well, disastrous is a strong word. More like awkward. Nobody died and Kirk only came out of it with purple bruises around his neck and the haunting sensation of Spock’s hands choking the—

It wasn’t every day you saw your first officer go insane. And have him attack you in front of a landing party. An attack that included but was not limited to: choking, unfortunate rubbing of certain sensitive parts as Jim was pushed into the dirt, and the tearing of several articles of clothing that revealed a great deal more skin than any captain should show a security team. Or his first officer.

He sighs loudly, rubbing at the ghostly markings on his neck. Of course they’re gone, long healed by Bones and his judicious use of a tricorder, but he can’t shake this strange sensation of being held down, of pressure.

“Mr. Spock, readings please,” Jim asks, more to get his attention than anything.

“All systems normal,” Spock replies sounding a bit constipated. Jim really wishes he’d get over whatever’s making him so standoffish.

Their relationship had come so far in the last three years, going from working well together to having amazing discussions to playing chess and choosing to eat together in the mess. They’d become downright friendly.

The choking thing seems to have really thrown a spanner in the works.

Or maybe he knows how you feel , a little traitorous voice whispers in the back of his head.

What about it? he whispers back viciously and the voice shuts up.

So Jim spends the rest of an interminable shift staring longingly at the science console and pretending he isn’t, trying to give Spock supportive smiles whenever the Vulcan glances over.

Read the rest on Ao3

“Feeling hungry there Spock?” McCoy asks pausing the bite of his salad halfway to his mouth.

Jim looks over at the Vulcan’s tray and tried not to gape. It’s piled high with bread, applesauce, a gazillion vegetables and a large bowl of soup. “I do not think my culinary preferences were under your purview, Doctor,” Spock replies primly before tucking in.

“It is if you’re eating enough for a damn army,” McCoy shoots back. He jams the bite of salad into his mouth with more force than necessary, as if his aggression will somehow prove his point more effectively.

They eat in a silence only slightly more tense than Jim is comfortable with, but he gets it. McCoy is still pretty cranky that Spock tried to off the captain and Spock is still embarrassed about the whole thing. He had to spend a week in medbay while McCoy coaxed him down off his hormones. Or whatever it was that had made him go bananas.

Jim lets the whole interaction go but gives McCoy a strange look when he watches Spock replicate more bread, tucking it into his pockets before leaving the mess.

“What’s with that?’ Jim asks, pointing after Spock with his fork.

McCoy shrugs. “You’d know better than me.”

A crunching noise echoes through the bridge and the pause in everyone’s work is palpable in the silence that follows. Jim turns to Spock who looks back, wide-eyed, carrot halfway into his mouth.

“What are you doing, Commander?” Jim asks, biting back both a laugh and a reprimand. Eating on the bridge is generally frowned upon and Spock basically is the rulebook.

Spock swallowed. “My apologies, Captain. I am very...hungry.”

Laughter winning out, Jim nearly doubles over with it and eventually the whole bridge joins in. “I am glad you find the situation humorous,” Spock says archly, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry!” Jim manages between laughs. “It’s just—the look on your face—”

“Permission to leave the bridge, Captain,” Spock grates out, standing up with his hands folded behind his back. Several carrots fall from his pocket and plink onto the ground, ruining the effect of his severe expression.

And the laughter just won’t stop. Wiping at his eyes, Jim waves his hand, “Yes, dismissed. Make sure you get enough to eat before your next shift, Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock says before ducking down to collect his carrots.

An untimely snort comes from the helm and everyone holds their breath as Spock strides from the bridge. The minute the turbolift door snicks shut, they’re all in tears.

“Do you think Spock is sick?” Jim asks, fiddling with the antique scalpel Bones keeps on a shelf in medbay. Some sort of manifestation of his dark sense of humor.

“Don’t touch that,” Bones says, snatching it out of his hands. Which...fair. Jim can be clumsy on occasion.

Frowning, Jim takes his usual seat in McCoy’s office as the doctor settles into his own. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Think Spock is sick?”

Bones lets out a little ‘ah’ of understanding and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Hard to tell with a Vulcan. Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t you noticed he’s been eating a lot more?”

“What? Like the other day at lunch?”

Jim nods. “That and yesterday! He was eating on the bridge. Spock! Breaking a rule!”

“I mean a rule that doesn’t hurt anyone,” Bones points out, but when Jim gives him a dubious look he admits, “Yeah, you’re right. That wouldn’t matter to him.”

“Exactly! And then last night, we were supposed to meet and do our reports together and he spent the entire time eating almonds. The entire time! Three hours of almonds.”

McCoy rubs a thoughtful hand over his chin. “That doesn’t exactly sound like Spock. I could bring him in for an eval but you know as good as I do that Spock’s a bit of an anomaly. He’s hell to try to diagnose.”

“I know Bones. I’m just asking if you can check,” Jim asks, putting on his best pleading expression.

“Don’t give me that look, Jim. I said I’d do it.”

“Thanks, Bones!” Jim says brightly, hopping to his feet. “Let me know what you find out. I’ve got to run off to engineering, Scotty wanted my opinion on something. Still on for dinner?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Bones says on a sigh before Jim rushes from the room.

“Jim you should get down here,” Bones says through the comm on his wall.

Dropping the padd he’s reading, Jim sits up and replies, “What happened?”

“Just get your ass to medbay.”

While he would normally protest a bit more, Jim has a feeling this is about Spock so he tosses on his shirt and hustles down the corridors to medbay.

“What is it?” he asks, gripping the doors to McCoy’s office in an effort to calm his nerves.

“Spock,” Bones replies. “It was a hell of a thing. If he’s been eating as much as you say, it doesn’t make any sense. He’s lost fifteen pounds since he was last here. His hormones are all out of wack compared to baseline but he seemed confused as to why I’d even be concerned. Typical Vulcan nonsense.”

That did not sound good. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Bones says, throwing up his hands. “What do you normally do? Talk to the damn hobgoblin. Get him to say something .”

Jim decidedly does not like that option because actually talking to Spock about anything serious ultimately skirted the line of him confessing things he definitely didn’t want to confess. Like being in love with him. Or wanting to tear off his clothes.

“Fine. But know that I don’t want to,” Jim says with a scowl.

“How do you think I feel all the time?”

Stepping into Spock’s quarters, Jim is already feeling nervous about the conversation ahead. Will Spock open up or just snap at him to mind his own business? Both were equally likely.

He finds Spock at his desk, eating a plate of tomatoes and reading something on his terminal. Looking up at Kirk’s entrance, he puts down the fork. “Can I help you?”

“I talked to Bones today,” Kirk says by way of explanation.

“And? To what end?”

“He said you’re sick. Or at least not well ,” Jim says, coming up to the side of the desk.

“My current health is of no consequence. I have reached out to the healers on New Vulcan and they have given me a regimen to follow that will allow me to better manage my symptoms.”

“So you are sick!” Jim says, accusation clear in his tone.

“Sick is not an accurate description, Captain.”

Pursing his lips, Jim asks, “Was it what happened on Cignus?”

Spock’s hand clenches on his desk, a surefire sign that Jim is on the right track. “It was, wasn’t it? Did I hurt you? Were the hormone regulators not enough?”

“Jim, please,” Spock grates out, eyes closing briefly before fluttering open again. “My current status is related to Cignus however you are not at fault.”

“Well, then what is it? Let me help.”

Spock’s hard expression softens slightly and it makes Jim’s stomach swoop. It’s so rare, that expression and Jim treasures every one.

Spock stands and begins to pace on the far side of the room, clearly searching for the right words. He pauses and looks back at Jim. “You are correct. On Cignus, during our...altercation, the prolonged contact between our bodies resulted in a rare mental bond that when unfulfilled can manifest one of two symptoms.

“The first is perpetual arousal and the second is hunger of similar nature. While I have been spared the former, the latter symptom is what you have perceived and what has interfered with my duties on the Enterprise.”

Jim takes a moment to parse that little monologue—purposefully ignoring the concept of arousal in relation to Spock because, yeah, he didn’t need to go there—but the only response he can come up with is, “Bond? Aren’t those kind of a big deal?”

Spock looks a bit green but nods. “Indeed.”

“But one just—poof! Formed between us?”

“We are highly compatible individuals.”

And now it’s Jim’s turn to blush. “Right. Um, do you...so you’re sick because it’s unfulfilled? What does that mean?”

“It means, in simple terms, that I am bonded with you but you are not bonded with me—”

“Well, that’s easy. I’ll bond with you back and then you’ll be fine,” Jim says, happy to have found such an easy solution but Spock shakes his head.

“You do not understand. This bond is a lifetime commitment. Similar to human marriage. I cannot ask that of you.”

Jim’s heart starts to race at what that could possibly mean. “What if I’m ok with that?”

Spock looks down and says, “You do not owe me anything, Jim.”

Approaching Spock slowly, like one would approach a skittish cat, Jim wraps a tentative hand around Spock’s wrist. “It’s not about what you owe me. It’s about what I want.”

Spock’s eyes widen but he doesn’t pull away.

“What do you want?” Jim asks, searching Spock’s face for any sign of hesitation.

The answer is beautiful in its simplicity: “You.”

Jim can’t help grinning, a myriad of futures he previously thought impossible becoming possible. “Well, right back atcha, Mr. Spock.”

The next morning when they enter the bridge for alpha shift and Spock finds a little bag of baby carrots on the science console, Jim holds up his hands and says, “It wasn’t me!”

Spock gives him an unimpressed look, but slips the little bag into his pocket before taking to his station.

#gift fic #spirk #spirk fic #aos spirk #chauncey writes fic

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evilkennedy · 4 years

Text

Mathematically Proportionate

Summary: Your favorite gays in space have decided to paint. Fluff ensues.

Pairing: S’vec Sylar (male OC @plaktow-ed) x Cristobal (Cris) Rios

Word count: 1,694

Note before you read: Listen, I have had this planned for a while. I am just insecure and it took me a while to write out fully without wanting to cry. Anyway I’m gonna post this and run away.. please be nice I’m soft.

“!Ay caramba! What a day.” The Captain stood up on the teleportation pad, reaching a hand out to help Sylar up. They just had a meeting with what was supposed to be a potential client and it hadn’t gone well to say the least. Luckily, they were both safe and sound on the ship again.

Sylar took the hand offered to him, using it to stand up proceeding to dust himself off before adjusting himself to straighten in his, somewhat stiff, usual position. “It was definitely something, sir.” Rios walked away from the pad, rolling his shoulders in the process, before mumbling a response, “You can say that again.” He couldn’t help but think about how sore they were both going to be for a few days following this. Sylar followed behind him without a word, hands neatly placed behind his back and thinking the same thing.

Rios huffed as he plopped down onto the piloting seat. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He plotted coordinates to the next place they were expected to meet a possible client. It took all of five minutes to get them onto the right course. He hoped that this call would actually be someone in need. Not an attack. He shook his head at the thought. Sylar was watching curiously behind him. Cris then closed the hologram, having already put the ship in the right direction. He clasped his hands together and stood.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. He looked away for a moment, thinking, “How do you feel about painting?” The questions weren’t really genuine questions as much as they were suggestions. His mind was working a mile a minute and he was sure that Sylar would notice his anxiety soon. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “You know that I do not drink, Captain.. And painting? I have only ever done so once and- well it does not matter.” Cris eyed him and nodded slowly. He asked the computer to replicate his favorite alcohol and began to walk away with it as soon as it had appeared, gesturing for Sylar to follow him.

Upon reaching his quarters, he opened the door and walked in. He was completely oblivious to the confused head tilt behind him, before Sylar spoke up, “What are we doing in here?” Rios smiled brightly without even turning to look at the other man. He had his eyes set on the supplies that they had come in here for. “We-” He paused picking up two canvases from a hidden corner in his room, “-are going to paint.” The soft smile hadn’t left his face as he turned toward Sylar, lifting up the two canvases in his hands. Sylar quirked an eyebrow typically at this. Cris had indeed mentioned painting..

The Vulcan’s expression softened, only slightly, as he noticed that Cris was still smiling. It was a smile the other only seemed comfortable to wear around him. It was quite lovely. “I suppose I can give it another try, if it will please you.” He held out his hands, offering to take the canvases so that Rios could carry the other supplies. The Captain obliged, handing him the canvases as he turned to grab the rest of what he had in his art collection. He glanced over all of the items, luckily there was more than enough for the both of them. He then tossed all of what they needed onto his bed. He then grabbed some old newspapers in order to cover the area, or at least the area he was painting in, before setting everything else up.

After this was all finished, Cris stood up straight, clasping his hands together. Sylar had only watched him curiously, not really knowing what to do. “Alright, this is everything. You can use whatever paints you’d like-” Rios gestured to the paints in the center of their designated area, “-just put the ones you want to use on your palette.” The doctor listened to every word carefully, despite having painted before. “Yes sir.”

Several hours later, smooth jazz music was playing from Rios’ record player. He was pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol and almost finished with his painting, when Sylar spoke up, obviously confused, “Captain, why is my face wet?” These words caused him to look away from his painting and to his adorably concerned lover. His own appearance was a mess to say the least, he was covered in paint and he held one of his brushes in his mouth as he glanced over the expanse of Sylar’s face. He couldn’t help but laugh as he took the brush out of his mouth to speak, “You have paint on your cheek, dear.” This only confused Sylar further. “Why is that amusing? You have paint all over your face and in your hair.” The other man shook his head fondly, “It’s cute.” He didn’t say another word as he added finishing touches to his painting. He added a bright blue brush stroke against the soft cheek of the man in the painting. Sylar was blushing from head to toe as he finished his own painting. Something intricately detailed and rather beautiful. He momentarily wondered if Cris would like it. He was still blushing as his bondmate had spoken up again, “You finished?” He sat back, away from his own painting and Sylar could only come to the conclusion that he was done with his and that is why he was asking. He took a moment to briefly glance over his own. “Yes, I believe I am.” This caused Rios to smile, any anxiety he had experienced before this was long gone. “Okay, so usually when people paint together, they count down and then show each other their individual paintings at the same time. Shall we do that?” Sylar seemed to ponder this for a moment before decidedly nodding. Cris took his painting in both hands, slightly nervous to expose it to Sylar, as he’d never shared his artistic side with the man before.

“Alright, 1… 2… 3.” They both simultaneously turned their paintings around. Cris gaped as Sylar’s painting came into his view. It was a sort of galaxy, but more ethereal than any part of the galaxy that he had ever seen. It was so detailed and very obviously well thought-out, much unlike his own painting which was decidedly not. He wondered where the Vulcan had come up with the idea. It was truly a sight to behold and he wondered why the man didn’t paint more frequently.

In his admiration of Sylar’s painting, he hadn’t realized the aforementioned man blushing even darker as he revealed his painting to him. He didn’t know what he had expected when Rios turned around his canvas but it hadn’t been that. How did he manage to capture him so beautifully? There was no way that he was this angelic in person, it had to have been Rios’ own artistic style in combination with the man’s vision of himself.

Cris turned his own painting back around, now quite shy to hear the other’s opinion after having seen his lovely art. “I’m speechless. Where did you- Why don’t you paint more? That is the most aesthetic piece of art I have seen in a while.” Sylar wasn’t expecting this reaction from Cris and he could tell. “I- Well, sir, I have been told that I should stick with my chosen profession. It is a waste of time to do anything artistic as a hobby, since I do not have the emotion to properly express anything of meaning in a painting nor in a song.” Rios wasn’t surprised to hear this. These were obviously words that Sylar had been told before and he could not believe the absolute ignorance behind them. He softened his gaze as he responded, “If it means anything, I think it is absolutely stunning. Looks better than anything I’ve ever seen, even in person. Have you seen a portion of the galaxy that looks like this?” Cris had long since forgotten of his own insecurities since he began talking to Sylar about his painting. He watched as the man glanced at the ground before speaking again, “It is actually what I see when I look at you, occasionally. It is not a galaxy so much as it is your soul, or your katra as we would call it. I just portrayed it as I see it.” He glanced back up to gauge Rios’ reaction. He blushed slightly before letting out a breathless syllable, “Oh.” That wasn’t anything that he was expecting at all. “I’m flattered.” His demeanor had changed and he knew it. He felt a bit shyer due to the intimacy of the situation. They had both, in a way, painted the other.

“I should be the one who is flattered, Captain. You painted me so.. Beautifully. I certainly do not look quite that… angelic. You have a natural talent. The proportions are mathematically, near perfect.” Sylar’s ears flushed a light green again at the thought of the painting. The idea behind it was sweet. He had even included the paint that he had gotten on his cheek. Cris shook his head, “It’s just how I see you. You are absolutely stunning. I only paint what I see.. In my specific style.” He chuckled lightly and rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit he developed as a child.

This was enough to stun Sylar into silence. He was still surprised that Cris returned his affections, much more that he found him attractive as well.

“Taluhk nash-veh k’dular, t’nash-veh t’hy’la.” The Vulcan spoke softly, still in awe that someone as wonderful as Cris had welcomed him into his life. The Captain easily returned the statement with his own as he stood, “Y te amo, mi amor.” He walked over to where Sylar was still sitting and kissed his forehead. “Let’s clean this mess up and then ourselves, what do you say? Then, we can hang up our paintings.” He held out a hand for Sylar to take. Sylar took his hand and stood up easily. “That does sound quite satisfactory, sir.”

Ending note: Thank you so much for reading, feel free to leave feedback. <3

#s'vec sylar x cristobal rios #s'vec sylar #cristobal rios #cristobal rios x male oc #star trek picard #soft gay stuff #i love them #i will protect them with my life #they deserve these moments #idk how to tag but #im soft shhh

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