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“God damnit, come on!”
Jim cursed, kicking the door as the recognition failed for a fifth time. How could he forget the code to his own room when he got in countless times before being more drunk than he was now.
“Computer, override. Captain James Tiberius Kirk.” He slurred.
Override acknowledged, thank god, finally.
He almost fell through the entryway as the door opened and let him stumble ungracefully inside. Kicking his shoes off was the first thing he thought to do once inside, angrily glaring at them like they were the cause for his incoherent movements. His shirt was next; the fabric getting caught on his elbows and then around his head when he didn't unzip the back of it. His clothing articles must really hate him for spilling those few drinks on them. Finally he gets the infuriating piece of fabric over his head and angrily tosses it to the side, kicking it a few times as well before directing himself towards the bed where he plops down unceremoniously.
The bed is harder than he remembers and he shuffled around to find the familiar groove he spent months trying to lay into the bed. It doesn't feel like he finds it but he does settle into a slight dip when he finds the pillow and buries his face in it. He sniffs and smiles into it. Then he lifts his head a few inches to smell it again; it definitely didn't smell like his sheets. It was clean and fresh with a hint of something familiar that he couldn't quite place. Jim blamed it on the alcohol. He sighs deeply, flipping himself around with much effort and throwing his arm around a pillow to pull it closer. But it doesn't move and his brows furrows.
He huffs, the room too dark and his vision too blurred to see anything even if he squinted. Jim raised a hand and put it on the pillow for another feel; it, too, was rather firm – even more so than the mattress. He felt it again, tentatively poking along the length of it. He briefly wondered if someone switched up his room as he flattened his palm. Wasn't this pillow a bit flat? Lightly he pat it a bit more until he felt something oddly warm and human like, was that hair?
“Please remove your hand.”
“Good mother of-” Jim jumped up, falling over the bed and onto the cold floor, “Jesus!”
“Captain?”
Jim gripped the sheets to pull himself up onto his knees against the bed, peering over the edge and blinking rapidly to make out the form on the bed.
“Spock?”
“Affirmative.”
“Why the hell are you…Oh shit- we didn't? Did we?”
“If you are referring to us having engaged in copulation, no.”
“Then what are you doing in my bed?”
“You are in my bed.”
“What?”
“Computer, switch on floor lights.” Spock stated.
Small blue lights flickered on to brighten up the room enough so Jim could make out his commander in the dim light. Spock was sitting upright, a black shirt covering his chest while his legs were straightened beneath a gray sheet. Looking around, Jim could see even through his swimming vision that it was clearly not his room. It was clean and neatly organized. A bookshelf neatly stacked with books stood where a chair full of dirty laundry usually stood in his room.
“So that’s why I couldn't get the door open.” Jim scowled, crawling onto the bed.
“Perhaps you shouldn't be drinking that much, Captain.”
“It was just a few drinks and stop calling me captain. It makes it weird when we’re alone.”
“Very well.” Spock said.
Jim fell back against a pillow, sighing as he did with a small smile.
“Your bed is nice.”
“It is comfortable.” Spock agreed.
“Mmm.”
“Jim?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you need me to escort you back to your room?”
“Nah, I’ll just crash here.”
There was a small pause before Spock answered, “Very well. I shall take my leave to let you rest then.”
“What? Spock-”
As he slid his legs out from under the covers, Jim caught his wrist to stop him.
“You can stay- it’s your room.”
“I don’t think it appropriate.”
Jim grinned, tugging on Spock’s arm until he sat back down onto the mattress.
“I’m drunk, you can at least act like you care and keep me company. Maybe take care of my headache with your magic powers.”
Spock resisted rolling his eyes, “I will assist in relieving the consequences of your alcohol intake then.”
“Yeah, yeah. You talk too much.”
Spock sat back against the headrest, covering his legs with the sheet as Jim shuffled closer to put his head on Spock’s thigh. Spock ignored wanting to push Jim’s head away, resting his hands in his lap. He glanced down at Jim’s face, flushed and warm against his leg as he shuffled around.
“Kill the lights, will ya?”
“Computer, power off floor lights.”
“Thanks.” Jim hummed.
It was silent save for their breathing; Jim’s fast and irregular and Spock’s soft and steady.
“You smell nice.”
“Excuse me.”
Spock looked down at Jim who opened his eyes to stare at Spock with a drunk smile.
“You smell nice. Clean.”
“Thank you.” The words felt awkward as Spock spoke them but he didn't know what else to say.
“And you look good in black, it shows off your physique. ” Jim referred to the casual black sleepwear Spock was wearing.
“You should sleep.”
“Am I making you shy?”
Spock cleared his throat.
“No. Please rest now. We have an early schedule, Captain.”
“Fine. Would you rub my head at least?”
He doesn't answer so Jim cracks an eye open to take a peek at his conflicted expression. It’s still dark but he can see a little better and the dark eyes staring back at him is making his insides curl with pleasure as Spock’s fingers rests on his temples, gently rubbing them to soothe the pain. He hums, leaning into the touch as much as he could without seeming overly eager.
He really does try to keep himself in check but he swears Spock’s fingers are sending lightning through his already intoxicated brain and suddenly he is reaching up to curl his hand around the back of Spock’s neck, fingers sliding into the short hair. It’s soft against his skin, like silk. He pulls on it, guiding Spock’s head down and tilting his own back. Spock’s eyes dart back and forth and his hands on Jim’s head have cease their movements but he doesn't move away. Their breaths are mingling; a mix of alcohol and something uniquely Spock when their noses touch.
“Relax.”
It’s the only warning he gives before pushing their mouths together, lips molding into Spock’s for a soft kiss. It’s hesitant and unfamiliar but there’s a definite thrill to it that makes it hard for Jim to pull away.
“Was it acceptable?” Spock asks softly.
“Very.”
This time Jim isn't gentle when he yanks the commander in for another kiss.
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