STAR. TREK.

ao3feed-kirkspock:

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/20iVF7p

by thecatchingjay

The pain didn’t start right away. Oh no, the physical pain, feeling the radiation poison running through his blood, ripping him apart from the inside out, started as soon as he opened the door.

No, the real pain didn’t start until he saw Jim’s face on the opposite side of the door.

Words: 2050, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

• Fandoms: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
• Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
• Warnings: Major Character Death
• Categories: M/M
• Characters: Spock, James T. Kirk, Leonard McCoy
• Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
• Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Dissociation, Panic Attacks, old married spirk, Hurt!Spock, Protective!Kirk

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/20iVF7p

(via plaidshirtjimkirk)

ifonlyiwaswittier:

Thanks to the lovely @plaidshirtjimkirk for encouraging me to post this, I’ve never been more nervous about posting… ever. Thanks!

Spock is very private about meditation, as most Vulcans are, but the longer he and Jim are together, and especially after they’re bonded, Spock starts to meditate where Jim could be around him (it is normal to meditate with your T’hy’la and Jim tried for a while but he’s just never been very good at shutting down his mind). Spock has always enjoyed the gentle background hum of Jim’s mind through the bond while he meditates (and it is only logical to take pleasure from your mate’s mind, Spock says).

So Jim, who usually sits nearby with a book, notices over time that Spock doesn’t always place his hands the same way while he meditates. He begins to recognize patterns.

When it seems like an important diplomatic negotiation might fall through or when Jim starts to get sick more often as they get older, Spock places both hands flat on the floor. Jim assumes this means worry.

And in the days leading up to a visit from Bones or Uhura or other old crew members, Spock’s hands give aways his excitement.

On the day they got married, the day they were bonded on Vulcan, on their anniversary every year, on Jim’s birthday, and sometimes just on the random days when Jim brings him home a data chip on something he thinks Spock would like to read or when Jim makes Plomeek soup from scratch, Spock cups his hands together. Jim thinks that this means love (and if they way Spock kisses and holds Jim after meditating, a deep and profound love).

But there are some hand positions that Jim only ever sees a few times.

When Spock’s mother dies, Jim thinks that Spock’s hands perfectly show his sad acceptance.

When Jim almost dies because of a mugging gone wrong (Jim remembers lying on the concrete, feeling himself get colder and colder, and thinking this would be such a silly way to go, on the streets of San Francisco, coming home from the supermarket because he needed milk to finish the cake he was baking, such a silly way to go after spending so much time brushing against death in space) he wakes up in his hospital bed with Spock meditating by his side. Jim thinks maybe his hands are supposed to show fear until Spock opens his eyes and realizes that it’s pure and unadulterated rage.

Jim wakes up to see Spock with meditating with his hands limply by his sides the morning after Bones dies. He’s never interfered with Spock meditating before but now he wants to climb out of bed and wrap himself around Spock to reassure him or maybe to cry or maybe to do nothing at all. But the weight of sadness is so heavy on him he can’t move and it looks like Spock can’t either. If he ever doubted that Spock cared deeply for Bones, that he loved Bones like a brother, he now knew for sure. That defeated posture meant grief.

Jim never asks for an explanation. He understands how private Vulcans can be about their traditions and doesn’t want to be insensitive. But one night, Jim and Spock are lying in bed. Spock has been oddly pensive, thinking while Jim reads.

“Are you at a section of your book where stopping momentarily would not alter your understanding of the story?” Spock asks suddenly, his brows drawn together.

“Sure,” Jim replies, closing his book (a paper antique) and taking off his reading glasses, setting them both on the bedside table. Spock is using the overly stiff language he only ever uses if he’s nervous these days and it makes Jim nervous too. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Spock opens his mouth as if he is about to say ‘yes’ but then closes it again, his brows drawing even further together. Instead he takes both of Jim’s hands is his. He cups Jim’s hands together.

“When Vulcans meditate, this signifies feelings of joy.” Spock says. “And this,” Spock continues as he places both of Jim’s hands flat on the bed, “is what humans consider as concern, or at its extreme, fear.” He balls Jim’s hands into fists, leaving them pressed to the bed.

“Anger,” Jim interjects. Spock’s raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You were doing that in the hospital after I got mugged,” he explains.

Spock smiles bashfully, “So you’ve noticed.” Jim nods. “I’m sure you know that Vulcans meditate as part of keeping their emotions under control. It involves identifying emotions and their causes. Positioning your hands to reflect the current situation aids this process”.

Jim twists Spock hands around, putting Spock’s hands in the position he uses most days. “What’s this one, then?” Jim asks.

Spock bows his head, a green blush creeping across his cheekbones.

“Happiness”.

(via plaidshirtjimkirk)