Work Text:
Jim Kirk was pretty certain the universe wanted him dead. As he trudged knee deep in snow through an icy wasteland, he mentally cursed out whatever higher power that might overhear and fumbled with his communicator to record a personal log.
Jim always figured his luck had to run out eventually. His first moments in the world were a complete clusterfuck, he’d been hard on luck since the day he was born. There was no denying that Jim usually made it out of dangerous or deadly situations without much consequence, but that didn’t negate the fact that he constantly ended up in these dangerous or deadly situations in the first place. Whatever he’d done, perhaps as simple as being born, it’d somehow landed him the position as universal punching bag.
His point was practically made for him as he paused mid complaint about being in the middle of an arctic wasteland as movement caught his eye. A large, likely rabid, furry beast with giant teeth was charging right for him across the glassy ice. And it looked hungry.
With a yell, Jim scrambled into high gear and started sprinting the best he could through the howling wind and slick snow.
More data was added to his ongoing hypothesis when an enormous red monster burst from the icy water below and ate the previous animal chasing him down in two big gulps. In pure pants shitting terror, Jim continued his sprint away from the new horrible thing trying to kill him. You really couldn’t make this shit up.
Darting into a dark cave, Jim hoped it’d be enough to deter it, but his feet were yanked out from underneath himself when it’s long, muscular tongue lassoed around his ankle. Hitting the ground hard, Jim was momentarily too dazed to fight back. He kicked and squirmed away from the gaping mouth ready to swallow him whole, fingernails ripping from their beds when he clawed for a handle anywhere on the cave floor.
A figure in a heavy winter coat appeared as if from thin air, waving a torch and shooing the red monster away. Afraid of the flames, it gave an angry growl and slinked away, dozens of its beedy black eyes glaring at Jim before it left.
Stunned, he made no attempt to get to his feet, staring open mouthed up at his savior as his brain frantically rebooted. They pulled back their hood and turned down their fluffy collar to reveal the face of an elderly Vulcan.
“James T. Kirk.” He rumbled in a deep, soft voice.
“Excuse me?” Jim barely realized his mouth was moving.
“How did you find me?” The Vulcan asked, eyes strangely vulnerable. He extended a gloved hand towards Jim.
“How do you know my name?” Jim was fairly certain he’d never met a Vulcan before enlisting in Starfleet. Middle of nowhere Riverside, Iowa didn’t have the most diverse population.
“I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” Okay, this guy was starting to weird Jim out. He was intensely grateful he’d saved his life, but everything all day had been confusing and stressful and Jim’s head was aching something fierce. For the first time in his life, Jim wished Bones was there to stick a hypo in him.
“Look, I… uh, I don’t know you.” The Vulcan seemed to almost smile, dark eyes twinkling in the torch light.
“I am Spock.” Maybe Jim had hit his head harder than he thought. Much harder.
“Bullshit.”
But, he was Spock. Jim listened as the old man explained a whole bunch of shit about himself and Jim and the future and Jim was starting to feel a little ill. Not only did he have to deal with one super bitchy, kinda hot, mostly annoying Vulcan, but now there was another one! At least this Spock didn’t seem to totally hate Jim.
“Please, allow me. It will be easier.” A hand reached towards Jim’s face which he instinctively grabbed to prevent contact.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Usually when strangers started grabbing at your face, that was a pretty clear sign to run in the opposite direction.
“Our minds, one and together.” Elder Spock said like that explained anything. Jim hesitantly loosened his grip on the Vulcan’s wrist and Spock’s wrinkled fingers positioned themselves along the left side of his face.
The meld was explosive. All at once Jim was moving through an entire lifetime, a hundred years of experiences and emotions and pain and—
It disappeared as suddenly as it started, leaving Jim floating in a dark space with nothing but Spock Prime’s voice to guide him. He was explaining what’d transpired in the future that led to him being stranded in the past, but part of Jim wondered at the hint of shame and fear he’d felt when Jim had first been pulled into his mind. It had been mostly impressions than a true reliving of Spock’s life, but Jim did feel he’d likely seen more than he needed. It wasn’t until the meld ended that most of what he’d seen and felt came rushing onto him in full force.
During the meld, his subconscious acted like a sponge absorbing all the memories and information available, and once he exited the meld it was like a giant hand wrung it all out into his consciousness. The continuous flow of information was kind of pointless if Jim had a panic attack during the meld, so it was better for it all to crash over him once he was back inside his own skull and able to collapse to his knees.
“Forgive me, emotional transference is an effect of the mind meld.” Spock Prime looked concerned as he stood over Jim, hands hovering over his shoulders. Jim waved him off, choking back a sob and rubbing harshly at his leaking eyes. It did little to stop the flow.
Embarrassed, he hauled himself back to his feet and took a deep breath. Once his nervous breakdown was tightly reined in, Jim was able to focus on the more important things he’d seen in Spock’s mind. Like the black hole device and preventing Earth from experiencing Vulcan’s fate.
Much of what happened next. Jim would compartmentalize and never touch again with a ten foot pole. Defeating Nero, saving Earth, and maybe becoming sort of friends with Spock were amongst the things he wouldn’t allow himself to forget or hide from. Or what happened after, when the Enterprise was given to him and Jim was finally fulfilling his destiny as a Starfleet Captain.
Skipping ahead a few years, Jim found himself thinking he was fulfilling said destiny pretty well.
He had the respect of his friends and crew, he completed each of his missions with commendations from Starfleet command, and he was finally getting a taste of that friendship he’d been promised by Spock Prime. Of course, the elder hadn’t meant to show him it, but Jim had seen glimpses of him and Kirk Prime together. It was rather humbling to see how he, or at least an alternate version of himself, could affect someone so totally and completely like he did with Spock Prime. The pool of intense grief that had rippled and boiled at Jim’s presence in his mind was so great, he wondered how Spock didn’t crumble beneath it all. And it’d only been made a hundred times worse by witnessing the destruction of his home planet.
Now, Jim watched as his Spock, the Spock of his universe, was starting to warm up to him. It’d taken a while, a lot of nagging and begging, and some help from his friends, but it really did seem like him and Spock were truly becoming friends.
They had occasional chess matches together, Spock sometimes played his Vulcan lute for Jim when he caught him practicing, and Jim had convinced Spock to join crew holovid nights. The chilly exterior of his first officer really just hid the warm fuzzy interior. Jim could easily spot the fondness and affection in his eyes whenever he was with Uhura or Chekov, could hear the dry as the desert humor in his tone on the bridge, and could spot small acts of kindness Spock did to show he cared. It sometimes made Jim feel all warm and fuzzy himself.
It was during a quiet night in Rec Room Six with minimal crew and a hush of noise, along with a little bit of alcohol, that Jim blurted out the tale of meeting Spock Prime.
He was sitting at a round table with his bridge crew, sharing drinks and stories with one another. A crew bonding event for moral boosting, he told Spock. His eyebrow had twitched slightly before he agreed to coming with Jim.
“Yeah, he was nice…” Jim murmured, feeling a little sorry for the poor guy. “Just, really really sad.” He was a little too drunk to convey just how horrible the anguish and guilt tormented Spock Prime, but he thought the others understood what he meant. “He said explaining everything would take too long so he did some weird Vulcan magic shit he called a mindmeld and basically put all the important junk into my brain telepathically.” Bones snorted into his mint julep, rolling his eyes at Jim’s ineloquent speech. Sulu was passed out on his shoulder and Chekov and Uhura were staring at Jim with shocked expressions. Scotty also giggled into his beverage, but he often got giggly when he drank so Jim didn’t hold it against him. Sitting on his left, Spock grew stiff and tense.
“Ambassador Spock melded with you?” He asked, voice forcibly level.
“Um, yeah. Spock, what’s wrong?” Jim blinked slowly, trying to fight off his buzz long enough to analyze the look on Spock’s face.
“It was… inappropriate for the Ambassador to meld your minds under his emotional conditions at the time.” Spock said haltingly. Uhura shot him a sharp look, eyes perceptive as always despite her alcohol consumption.
“I mean, I don’t really blame him.” Jim shrugged. “There was a lot of stuff he needed to tell me and not a lot of time. It was… logical.” Jim smiled at his use of words, leaning his head on top of his folded arms. He was starting to feel sleepy and was considering following Sulu into the land of dreams.
“Regardless,” Spock said. “He should have found another way to communicate that would not have risked your person or mind. Improper melds can cause psyche damage and madness. He should have known better.” Jim opened his eyes again, surprised at the sharp edge to Spock’s tone. Was it really that big of a deal? Sure, it’d been kind of scary. And yeah, Jim sometimes had nightmares of somethings he’d seen, but overall everything had worked out fine in the end.
“Okay, Spock. Whatever you say.” He mumbled, closing his eyes again. It would be better if he went to his quarters where his comfy bed would be, but Jim decided the table would make due.
“Perhaps, Captain, it would be prudent to retire for the evening.” Spock said, laying a hand on his forearm. Jim groaned.
A few slurred goodnights and uncoordinated hugs later, Spock was escorting Jim out of the Rec Room and up to his quarters. Jim thought he could walk pretty well on his own, but Spock seemed to think otherwise if the grip on his arm was any indication.
“Thanks Spock.” Jim smiled, loose and open. “I’ll see you tomorrow on the bridge.” Spock didn’t release him. Jim’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“You’re intoxicated, I will assist you to bed.” Jim leaned away slightly.
“Hey! I’m not too drunk to undress myself and get under the covers.” He pouted. Spock tilted his head to one side, eyes searching.
“That may be true, but I’d like to ensure your safe arrival.” Ooh that bastard, Spock was making fun of him! Grumbling under his breath about pain in the ass Vulcans, Jim allowed himself to be guided inside.
It was dark and cool, the perfect temperature to curl under his toasty blankets and sleep off the rest of the alcohol in his system. Spock sat him down on the edge of his bed, but didn’t allow him to start burrowing under the covers. Instead, he knelt down and unlaced Jim’s boots. Jim didn’t know what to make of the action at first, staring hard at the shiny black head of hair in front of his face.
Spock’s movements were quick and sure, but also gentle. His hands were cold against the bare skin of Jim’s calves, sending goosebumps over his arms when he hooked a finger into Jim’s sock to pull it off his foot. It was intimate, sitting in the lowlight letting Spock methodically remove his uniform. Jim had been undressed by plenty of people, often while one or both of them were drunk, but it’d always been leading up to something more. There’s always been a tension in the air, a heavy suggestion behind touch, but it was different here. No hint of lust or desire in any of Spock’s movements. It made Jim feel small and safe, almost like a little kid.
His shirt and pants were removed and quickly replaced with sleep clothes. Jim didn’t even feel awkward with his nakedness like he’d expected. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
“Thank you.” Jim said in nearly a whisper, the words hanging in the still air. Spock nodded his head and turned on his heel. Not towards the exit, like Jim expected, but instead towards their shared bathroom. Jim crawled backwards to kick down the covers and climb inside, settling down to wait for Spock’s return.
When he did, it was with a glass of water in hand and a hypo for hangovers in hand. Jim could kiss him for it. If he wasn’t so mellowed out, he would have told Spock as such. Instead he smiled gratefully and sunk further into his bed.
“Jim.” Spock murmured, interrupting Jim’s soft descent into sleep. “I find I am disturbed by the information you presented earlier this evening.” Jim frowned.
“What information?” Spock’s eyes darted away.
“About the meld you and Ambassador Spock shared.” Jim pursed his lips, squinting up at Spock’s face that was currently hidden by shadows.
“If it’s such a big deal to you why don’t you meld with me to see what he showed me. Maybe then you’d see it was fine and stop freaking out about it.” Jim rolled onto his side, thinking that was the end of the conversation. His eyes closed and he let out a long, content breath.
“Very well.” Spock’s cool fingers touched the side of Jim’s face, exactly where Spock Prime had done so on Delta Vega. Jim could do nothing more than tense in surprise before he was sucked into the meld.
It was similar to the last one. Lights, colors, sounds, and emotions burst in front of him in fireworks as he sunk further and further down. And much like last time, Spock suddenly pulled it all back until it was bearable. Jim could sense bewilderment and confusion from Spock, but no direct thoughts like he might have expected.
Like rewinding an antique DVD, the past events between then and the meld jumped and danced in front of Jim’s proverbial eyes. They stopped at the moment when Jim was staring at Spock Prime, fingers poised on his face.
There were no more emotional impressions for Jim to feel as Spock slowly played out the interaction. Jim felt strangely like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have done, turning away from the scene before him. He didn’t particularly want to relive some of the crazy shit he’d seen from the elder.
Suddenly, Jim was laying in his bed, alone in his mind, and breathing harshly. His temple didn’t throb and he wasn’t sweating profusely or crying like he’d been after his first meld. Instead, he felt even more tired than he had previous to the meld.
Spock’s hand still hovered in the air between them, trembling faintly. Jim tilted his head back, gazing up expectantly. Had he gotten what he’d wanted from the meld? Jim hoped so, because he didn’t want all of that to trudge up old memories for his nightmares all for nothing.
“Jim.” To the man’s surprise, Spock’s voice wavered. Whatever he was going to say after that, Jim would never know, because Spock just shook his head and pulled the blankets off Jim’s body.
Jim nearly whined as cold air rushed over him, flinching at the sudden movement and drop in temperature, when all complaints dried up in his throat. Spock climbed up and over him, curling up on his side on Jim’s pillow. They were pressed together all along their sides, Spock’s legs intertwining with Jim’s. Lips parting in surprise, Jim simply watched as Spock covered them both up with the sheets and wrapped himself around his captain.
There was the possibility Jim was already asleep and this was a dream, and there was the possibility that he was in a drunken stupor and hallucinating. There was also the possibility that this was all real and Jim would have to then deal with it.
Deciding that that was too much of a hassle right then and there, Jim tucked his head under Spock’s chin and threw an arm over his waist.
They’d figure it out in the morning.