You know, at some point I have to remember that I can crosspost these, instead of always forgetting and then having to post them separately. *sigh*
Title: Gravitational Forces
Fandom: Star Trek
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, McCoy
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for this prompt found at![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
st_xi_kink.
The first time he noticed it, McCoy didn’t think much of it. It turned out that Jim, as surprising as it was, excelled at all things to do with being a Captain, even things such as diplomacy and manners. That was something McCoy never thought to see--Jim, a diplomat.
But he was. With all the fine manners and formal gestures that came with it. And that’s why McCoy dismissed it, at first. They were on Ranex III, representing Starfleet in the planet’s annual celebration and Jim was being his usual smooth and charming self, so when Jim gestured for Spock to precede him into the formal dining hall, one hand lightly placed on the small of his First Officer’s back as if to guide him into it, McCoy just thought it was part of the whole diplomacy thing.
It was the second time that really caught his interest. They had beamed down to a small, undiscovered, M class planet that was giving off some sort of strange radiation. The planet hosted alien life forms, but they were primitive, barely in the beginning of civilization, and the radiation came from the big white and yellow plants they liked to eat; crushing its leaves and seeds to use as seasoning. Both he and Jim were in the middle of ascertaining what this meant for the planet’s inhabitants medically, but all it took was a softly muttered “fascinating” from Spock to pull Jim to his side.
And that’s when he saw it.
As Jim peered over Spock’s shoulder to look at the tricorder readings, he oh-so-casually, oh-so-naturally, placed his hand lightly on the small of Spock’s back. Again. His hand didn’t press into him and his fingers didn’t rub or caress the flesh underneath it--it just rested, firm and steady. But what was really interesting was that Spock, whose dislike of being touched in any way often caused him to skip--that is, conveniently find himself too busy for--his routine medical checkups, did not pull away.
Well, after that, McCoy started noticing all sorts of things.
Like how they didn’t actually need to talk to communicate. There was a whole different form of communication between them that McCoy didn’t understand. Whole conversations would take place in the lift of one eyebrow, the tilt of a head. Spock’s lip would twitch slightly and Jim would walk away with an all too pleased expression on his face. In the middle of a crisis the two would suddenly lock eyes, just for a moment, and then they would move simultaneously, movements and actions so synced it was like they had rehearsed them before hand.
He followed them out of the turbo lift one day and thought, they walk in step.
The dryly given observations on human behaviors that McCoy took to be insults turned out to be small inside jokes between them.
They ritually fought over their running score in chess, even though McCoy knew--and Jim had to know--that Spock would never forget something so simple as a score count. Nor would he fabricate one.
And still, there was the hand on Spock’s back. When they leaned together over a computer screen, or when Spock bent slightly to pull his tray from the food processors in the mess hall, or even when Jim used it just to get Spock’s attention. A small touch on his back and he would turn to Jim, leaning into him slightly to hear what Jim would say, an exaggeratedly solemn expression a long time traditional response to the teasing one on Jim’s face. The touch was intimate, without being overtly sexual, which shocked McCoy because, frankly, he didn’t think Jim even knew that intimacy and sex were two different things.
Even without the touch the intimacy was there, in the way the stay stood together, heads tilted towards each other, arms accidentally brushing as they spoke. It was strange when he saw this, to think that a little more than a year ago, the two had practically despised each other. But it took a very short part of that year for that to change. Where they had once violently collided, (Jim complained of neck bruises for days after Spock had nearly strangled him to death on the Bridge that first time) now they were like two stars or planets orbiting each other, separating for a moment before coming back to circle one another in a pattern that was as familiar as it was unchangeable.
So when he entered the observation deck at a time at night when it should be empty and saw them there, he stopped in the doorway. Jim was leaning against the wall, one hand curled around Spock’s bicep and the other resting on the small of Spock’s back, his thumb tracing up and down his spine in a small, gentle caress. Spock was facing away from McCoy, so it was Jim who finally saw him and when he did he lifted his chin in a way that was unrepentant and just a little bit defiant and used the hand at Spock’s back to tug him just a fraction closer--a move, McCoy noticed, that was both protective and possessive. So McCoy didn’t say anything, and just turned to leave.
He was a doctor, not a physicist, but even he knew it would take a bigger force than him to knock those two out of their orbit.
Title: Gravitational Forces
Fandom: Star Trek
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, McCoy
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for this prompt found at
st_xi_kink. The first time he noticed it, McCoy didn’t think much of it. It turned out that Jim, as surprising as it was, excelled at all things to do with being a Captain, even things such as diplomacy and manners. That was something McCoy never thought to see--Jim, a diplomat.
But he was. With all the fine manners and formal gestures that came with it. And that’s why McCoy dismissed it, at first. They were on Ranex III, representing Starfleet in the planet’s annual celebration and Jim was being his usual smooth and charming self, so when Jim gestured for Spock to precede him into the formal dining hall, one hand lightly placed on the small of his First Officer’s back as if to guide him into it, McCoy just thought it was part of the whole diplomacy thing.
It was the second time that really caught his interest. They had beamed down to a small, undiscovered, M class planet that was giving off some sort of strange radiation. The planet hosted alien life forms, but they were primitive, barely in the beginning of civilization, and the radiation came from the big white and yellow plants they liked to eat; crushing its leaves and seeds to use as seasoning. Both he and Jim were in the middle of ascertaining what this meant for the planet’s inhabitants medically, but all it took was a softly muttered “fascinating” from Spock to pull Jim to his side.
And that’s when he saw it.
As Jim peered over Spock’s shoulder to look at the tricorder readings, he oh-so-casually, oh-so-naturally, placed his hand lightly on the small of Spock’s back. Again. His hand didn’t press into him and his fingers didn’t rub or caress the flesh underneath it--it just rested, firm and steady. But what was really interesting was that Spock, whose dislike of being touched in any way often caused him to skip--that is, conveniently find himself too busy for--his routine medical checkups, did not pull away.
Well, after that, McCoy started noticing all sorts of things.
Like how they didn’t actually need to talk to communicate. There was a whole different form of communication between them that McCoy didn’t understand. Whole conversations would take place in the lift of one eyebrow, the tilt of a head. Spock’s lip would twitch slightly and Jim would walk away with an all too pleased expression on his face. In the middle of a crisis the two would suddenly lock eyes, just for a moment, and then they would move simultaneously, movements and actions so synced it was like they had rehearsed them before hand.
He followed them out of the turbo lift one day and thought, they walk in step.
The dryly given observations on human behaviors that McCoy took to be insults turned out to be small inside jokes between them.
They ritually fought over their running score in chess, even though McCoy knew--and Jim had to know--that Spock would never forget something so simple as a score count. Nor would he fabricate one.
And still, there was the hand on Spock’s back. When they leaned together over a computer screen, or when Spock bent slightly to pull his tray from the food processors in the mess hall, or even when Jim used it just to get Spock’s attention. A small touch on his back and he would turn to Jim, leaning into him slightly to hear what Jim would say, an exaggeratedly solemn expression a long time traditional response to the teasing one on Jim’s face. The touch was intimate, without being overtly sexual, which shocked McCoy because, frankly, he didn’t think Jim even knew that intimacy and sex were two different things.
Even without the touch the intimacy was there, in the way the stay stood together, heads tilted towards each other, arms accidentally brushing as they spoke. It was strange when he saw this, to think that a little more than a year ago, the two had practically despised each other. But it took a very short part of that year for that to change. Where they had once violently collided, (Jim complained of neck bruises for days after Spock had nearly strangled him to death on the Bridge that first time) now they were like two stars or planets orbiting each other, separating for a moment before coming back to circle one another in a pattern that was as familiar as it was unchangeable.
So when he entered the observation deck at a time at night when it should be empty and saw them there, he stopped in the doorway. Jim was leaning against the wall, one hand curled around Spock’s bicep and the other resting on the small of Spock’s back, his thumb tracing up and down his spine in a small, gentle caress. Spock was facing away from McCoy, so it was Jim who finally saw him and when he did he lifted his chin in a way that was unrepentant and just a little bit defiant and used the hand at Spock’s back to tug him just a fraction closer--a move, McCoy noticed, that was both protective and possessive. So McCoy didn’t say anything, and just turned to leave.
He was a doctor, not a physicist, but even he knew it would take a bigger force than him to knock those two out of their orbit.
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