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Jim could hear the high note of panic in his own voice, but was damned if he could stop it. This whole situation was just freaking him out too much.
"Bones! Can't you do something about this?!"
His CMO seemed to be torn between scowling at him or just busting a gut laughing
"Jim, I'm working on it! But the Xenatoth's ain't telling us exactly what the hell their freaky 'ritual' did to him apart from the obvious, and the… the little pointy eared bastard won't let me close enough to examine him!"
Jim was already aware of that! In fact, Spock wasn't letting anyone close to him except for…
There was a tug on his uniform pants as the oh-so-much smaller than usual person hiding at his back peered out at McCoy; still hanging onto Jim like grim death, as he had been doing ever since he came out of the ritual cave on the planet. Spock glared at Bones and said with snotty precision
"You don't control your emotions and you call me bad names and you keep trying to touch my Jim. I. Don't. Like. You"
Bones threw his hands up and then buried his face in them, clearly giving up. Jim shot a look of desperation at the only other person in the med bay – his Communications Officer.
"Uhura?!"
Uhura, whose own discrete freak out planet-side had begun to morph into amusement, gave him a look back that clearly said, 'What? I happen to be finding this funny!' and ok, Jim knew that most of that was because of his predicament – her and Spock may have split up but they still appeared to be friends – but come on! How was he supposed to do his job when his First Officer had got himself turned into a child and insisted on clinging to him like a limpet? Jim widened his eyes and hissed
"Please!?! "
Uhura rolled her eyes and then – thank god – hunkered down slightly and said in a soft voice
"Spock? Sweetie – Dr McCoy here needs to examine you and the Captain needs to get back to work. How about you hang out with me for a while, mm?"
Jim looked down hopefully but his heart sank when he saw the mulish expression on the (tiny! Jeez, he was so tiny) Vulcan's face – saw it briefly, before Spock buried his face in Jim's hip, sniffed hugely and said sulkily in his now high voice
"I don't want to hang from anything and I'm not a sweet. I want to stay with my Jim"
And what the fuck was with all this 'my Jim' stuff anyway?!
* * *
In the end, so long as he got to keep one little hand tightly clenched on Jim's top, Spock let Bones examine him. It hadn't been much help ("He's a perfectly healthy four year old half Vulcan. Now take him away so I can get back to trying to persuade those alien's 'shaman' to tell me why he is!"). It hadn't got Jim off the hook for babysitting duties either, given that trying to remove himself from Spock's grip physically had only gotten them a demonstration of exactly how shrill small children could be when they cried and meant that Jim had been given reproachful looks from both Bones, Uhura and the nurse that had come in to see what the noise was. And it meant that he'd felt like a complete shit himself when he saw his First Officer's small shoulders quiver with the force of his sobs.
And that kinda summed the problem up, he thought, as he sat in the Captain's chair on the bridge with Spock on his lap, trying not to notice the weirded out looks the crew were giving him and to suppress his own panic. He shouldn't, surely, be this whipped by a person five times smaller than him!
But he was. He couldn't help it. He didn't even like kids that much and he knew that Spock normally tolerated him at best, but one look at that miniature face with those huge eyes gazing trustfully at him and he was giving in to whatever the little guy wanted – trailing him around the ship and taking him to the mess (where Spock proved that – Vulcan or no – the ability of children to get their dinner all over themselves was a constant). And now he'd turned his command into a crèche because Spock had wanted to see the bridge.
His incredulous musings were interrupted when Sulu said softly
"Captain? I think Commander Spock might need some rest, sir"
Jim met the quietly amused gaze of his helmsman and then glanced down rather wildly at Spock – who was curled up against his chest and drooling on his yellow shirt, eyes closed. Jim ignored the muffled chuckles from Chekov and very carefully got up, trying not to disturb Spock as he did so.
"Right. Mr Sulu, you have the conn. I think it's past someone's bedtime"
He swept out – as authoritatively as a man cradling a sleeping child and battling with an inner sense of hysteria could do.
* * *
His plea for help to Bones having gone unanswered ("He's only going to start screaming again if you leave him here and he wakes up to find you gone – hell, no! Besides, the shaman finally told me things should be back to normal in a few hours. It's some kind of 'learning' ritual apparently, though Christ knows what we're meant to be learning except that the hobgoblin was even more irritating when he was a kid than he is now"), Jim ended up back in his own quarters; lying on the bed with Spock clamped, warm and soft and sweet smelling, to his side.
And speaking of smelling… Spock had just started doing this weird thing where he was snuffling into Jim's neck – almost like he was scenting him in his sleep – and making an odd push-pulling motion with the hand tangled up in Jim's shirt, like he was a kitten nursing or something.
This really wasn't how Jim had imagined his First Officer ending up in his bed. And that thought – while he still had Spock the fucking child in his arms – was enough to send Jim scrambling out from under the kid and practically leaping into the bathroom, where he met his own horrified gaze in the mirror with a shudder.
Because yeah – of course his mind had gone there before, when Spock was his usual logical, subtly bitchy, 'Captain-Kirk-you-are-a-moron', ADULT self. He wasn't blind, and his First Officer was a long, tall streak of gorgeous to anyone with eyes. The thought of the man's ass alone had inspired many a happy time in Jim's bunk and half of the time Jim's teasing of him was because he wanted to get a 'rise' out of the guy one way if he couldn't get it in another form.
But thinking sexy thoughts about the guy when he was right there, and four years old, was so very beyond wrong that Jim felt slightly sick. He hoped to god that what he was meant to 'learn' from this experience was that he was a huge, giant pervert.
In his disgust he'd lost sight of the fact that Spock was still there in the other room, and it was only a crash that sounded a lot like someone falling out of bed that brought him back to himself and sent him dashing back. To be greeted by the sight of Spock, fully grown and himself again (and his clothes had grown back to normal size with him – and why the hell was that the first thing Jim noticed?!), on the floor in an undignified sprawl and looking about rather wildly, obviously not knowing what he was doing there.
Spock zeroed in on him as Jim gaped and began to say
"Jim? What am I…"
Then understanding flooded into his eyes and the Vulcan stiffened. He was very still for a long moment and then leapt to his feet, suddenly unable to meet Jim's eyes. His voice was very formal as he snapped out
"I apologise for my disarray, Captain. I must go and – and see Dr McCoy now"
If it wasn't for the slight hesitation and the fact that Spock was speaking so quickly he was one step away from babbling, Jim couldn't have told that the man was upset at all.
Though the speed at which his First Officer left his quarters – damn near running – kinda gave him a clue.
Great. Spock was going to hate him more than ever now.
* * *
The pity party he'd indulged in after Spock left, plus the one or two (ok, maybe three or four) large brandies he'd used to – unsuccessfully – get his head straight meant that it took Jim a minute or two to shake off his daze when the comm. bleated its alarm that someone was at his door.
So he almost thought he was dreaming for a moment when he stumbled over and slapped the entry system – only to find himself pushed back into the room, up against the wall, with a hot and heavy breathing Vulcan plastered against his front.
"…Spock?"
Spock didn't answer him immediately – at least not with words. But he bent his head down to the side of Jim's neck and took a long, deep indrawn breath. That fucking scenting thing again, except this time it somehow made Jim's knees feel tremulous – and the deep, satisfied hum that Spock gave afterwards sent his heart pounding madly.
"Spock – what…"
"It was a learning ritual" Spock's voice was even and quiet as he interrupted "Dr McCoy told me. On Xenatoth it is a ritual that one goes through when there is something you must learn. Something that your adult eyes do not see clearly"
Spock's lips brushed against his jaw and Jim's voice was choked when he managed to ask
"And what did you learn?"
"I did not know what was happening or where I was, but I knew you. I knew that you would keep me safe and that you…" Spock's voice dropped even lower, so that Jim had to strain to hear it "That you smelled like you were mine. My Jim"
Spock pulled back so he could catch Jim's eye and though his face was as calm as ever his eyes – that always betrayed those emotions a proper Vulcan shouldn't have – were full of fire. He said again, fiercely
"My Jim"
"Christ. Yes"
That was all the response Spock allowed him before his mouth was devouring Jim's and he was doing his level best – and shit, but his best was good! – to fuck Jim standing up. And god-damn! That cat-like, kneading motion was a lot more pleasant when Spock was fully grown. And when it was applied to Jim's groin.
He was slightly embarrassed to hear himself practically mewling into Spock's mouth, but he lost any ability to care about it when the guy obviously liked the noise so much. And then he was having problems with his ability to breathe as Spock dropped to his knees and got his Commander on with Jim's dick.
And Jim did know that Vulcan's had a higher body temperature than humans, but even his sex-obsessed mind hadn't put that together with the thought 'blowjob' and given him an idea of how that wet, furnace like mouth and that slightly rough tongue would feel. And Jim was very, very glad of that. Because if he'd had even an inkling of quite how ohmygod-absofuckinglutely-amazing this would feel then the anticipation would have meant he'd have gone off within two seconds of Spock wrapping his lips around him.
As it was, the sheer jesusgod, what? pleasure of it shocked his system enough that he had a good four or five minutes to enjoy the sensation before Spock curled his tongue in just the right way and fucking swallowed around him and that. was. it. Jim was gone. Pumping into Spock's mouth and yelling blue murder as he came.
Not that his balls didn't make a valiant effort to spunk again when he felt Spock shudder against him and his hands tighten on Jim's hips as he lapped him clean and he realised the guy had just come without touching himself – just from sucking Jim off.
The whole thing did leave him in a bit of a daze though, so he'd been Vulcan-handled back into bed and had his First Officer wrapped warmly around him before his brain came partly back on line and he managed to slur out
"So. You got any more learning to do?"
It was too dark to see, but he heard the warm tone in Spock's voice that meant he was amused
"I believe I now have all the knowledge I require on this subject"
"Good. That's good"
Sleep was coming up fast now, so he tried to make sure Spock understood one thing before he crashed
"No smelling me on the bridge though"
Spock's head was on his shoulder and he felt the man's lips curve into a rare smile. As he slipped under he dimly heard the quiet reply
"No. I will keep that for when we are alone…"