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#hope you're having a good day everyone
WOW! I’M [Five]!!!
THIS BLOG HAS BEEN [Beating ‘n Cheating] FOR FIVE WHOLE YEARS NOW!!!!
I MADE THIS THING WHEN I WAS STILL [Wallowing] IN MY [Shortpants] AND NOW LOOK AT ME!!!!
I’M STILL HERE! [#$%!]ING IN MY [SHORTPANTS]!!!!!!!!
WE [Met] SO MANY [Top Ten Classics] FUNNY ALONG THE WAY!!
REMEMBER [Big Boy Pants]???!!??!? WHAT A [Laugh Riot]!!!!  EVERYONE LOVED IT!!! EVERYONE COULDN’T [Get there filthy hands] OFF OF IT!!!! 
AND NOW WE’RE [Bigger] THAN EVER!!!! I’M [Drowning] IN [$%#!]!!!! [Soaking] IN [Pre and Post Pubesc3nt Approval]!!!! [Suffocating] [In the Decrepit Halls] OF THIS [Abandoned Water Treatment Plant]!!!!
H3 RE’S TO [Six] YEARS!!! [Seven] YEARS!! [E 8ight] YEARS!!! [Ni n3] YEARS!!! THE YEARS [will never stop coming]!!!!!! I”M GOING TO BE HE RE [for the rest of my life.]
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iliothermia · 2 months
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Jewish friends.. Stay safe, I love you, please take care of yourself, keep doing your best even though it's hard so often lately. You deserve good days, mutual respect, care and love.
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chalkrub · 2 years
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little thing of mendel :^)
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onepieceliveaction · 7 months
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youtube
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"Fraaank are you going to help me figure out where Howdy moved the fireworks to or not?"
"Try not. If I were Howdy, I wouldn't have even allowed you in the door after last week!"
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dimonds456 · 3 months
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It is not okay to speculate whether or not someone is suicidal. If they claim to be, you should 100% take that shit seriously and give them the benefit of the doubt.
That said, if someone is using their own suicidality as a weapon to gain sympathy, emotionally manipulate someone, or to push other people down, GENUINELY fuck that person. While it's not okay for us to doubt that statement just because they're weaponizing it, that also doesn't mean we need to ALLOW that manipulation to convince us of something.
If you feel the need to use your terrible mental health as a step-stool in a conversation to make your side more heard than the other, you need to take a step back and re-evaluate yourself. And I am saying this as someone who ALSO has shit mental health and has been in the trenches with it before. I get it. I understand. But also STOP.
It's tempting to want to save your own ass over recognizing where you've gone wrong, but just a word of advise: recognizing where you've gone wrong WILL save your ass and give you better mental health and wisdom down the line.
However, emotionally manipulating people absolutely will not.
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ladychlo · 1 year
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Harry for Rolling Stones X The Red Tank by Pavel Tchelitchew
Louis' It is what it is tatt X The Rose Necklace by Pavel Tchelitchew
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tianhai03 · 1 year
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an accidental detour: part 1
a short little comic where dante gets sent back in time to a familiar place.
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friedunicornstudio · 9 months
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Just a reminder that our month long sale is still going on over at our Etsy shop!
Save 20%, no coupon needed, if you'd like to buy some goodies and support queer and intersex art!
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yuriyuruandyuraart · 8 months
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AFTERMARE WEEK: Day 7- the end of a beginning/ the beginning of the end
make me believe and raise my hopes up one last time, then haunt my dreams for the rest of my life
aftermare week is hosted by @bluepallilworld
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basketobread · 3 months
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I hope you have the most wonderful Christmas like you only deserve, lovely ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for always brightening up mine and many other people's days, you are the greatest gift of all!! 🙌
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HIIII THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ANYONE CELEBRATING!!! you always brighten up MY day and i cannot thank you enough!! HAHAHA you're too kind ❤❤❤❤❤
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smile-files · 1 year
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all the things i like!!!!!!
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coollyinterferes · 2 months
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*taps mic; a certain gentleman is standing right beside him*
"Good evenin', everyone!! We're back!! Hope you didn't miss us much!"
"It sure hasn't been that long.... has it....?"
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Uhhmmm....
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pointyfruit · 6 months
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Just imagined a complex animated short about Bloodmoon huntin for ye good ol blood except it was in the perspective of one of the children that get hunted.
I almost made myself cry.
#Like it was a huge punch in the gut#the silly don't feel so silly no morein this context#dca fandom#bloodmoon twins#you just want your mom to be happy again and what happened#sams bloodmoon#sun and moon show bloodmoon#fnaf bloodmoon#like you hear on bbc news that this Infamous red monster has killed 100s of families in poverty and everyone's panicking and trying to#evacuate the city but yall neck deep in poverty so on top of struggling to get food on your plate every night you also gotta somehow find#the money to move and everyone is trying and trying and working themselves until their exausted and stressed and sick and mom is struggling#and sad and dad is struggling and sad while rich people ride their private jets into the sunset and everyone's sad and depressed and crying#because no one deems your lives important because you're poor and you just wondering why mom keeps crying and dad have time to play anymore#and you are just barely grasping any of this you're like 8 and after all that hard work of 80° days and sleepless nights it's to late and#everyone is getting killed except for you because you're small and weaseled your way out of it but not for long because here it comes and#you're run as fast as your little weak legs can go with your heart pound out your chest and you're crying and screaming and your voice is#cracking from screaming but no one hears you or is too scared to save you and just like your parents you lose hope and strength too and you#cant run anymore and you fall to the ground and cry (the ugly cry) and the silly has come to harvest ye good ol blood and you're dead and-
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indeedcaptain · 11 days
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Regulatory Relations, chapter 15: the miners
Hi, everyone!! I hope you're having a beautiful weekend.
Thank you for your patience, both with this chapter and with me being dramatically less responsive on here and tumblr recently. I’m on a project at work that is kicking my ass professionally and emotionally, but at least it ends in two weeks and I hope I can be a little more present after that. Please accept my apologies that I haven’t responded to any of your beautiful comments :(
I left this fic unrated for a reason. Explicit content ahead! If that’s not your jam, skip from the second star section break to the third. Otherwise, enjoy ;)
Thank you so much for being here and reading along with this adventure. I hope you like this chapter.
Also posted on AO3 here.
☆☆☆
“If anyone gets this message, please. Help us.” 
Kirk, Spock, and the beta shift bridge crew stood in silence as Overman Dima Marcus’s cry for help echoed through the room. Marcus panted as a third explosion rocked the frame, and he fell out of focus. He looked over his shoulder. The video ended.
“Play it again,” Kirk ordered, and Ortiz restarted the video. The rise and fall of static, the explosions, and Marcus’s dire message played again over the viewscreen. Kirk read the haggard, gaunt, fearful face of the overman, and he saw his hunger. The tendons of Marcus’s neck were too prominent, even in the shadowed image of the video. Kirk’s own bones ached in recognition, and in the crevasses of Marcus’s face he saw his own, and Kevin’s. In the nervous, twitching glance over his shoulder, Kirk saw Laika sprinting to the treeline on the outskirts of town. He pushed his fearful recognition somewhere dark and cold in the back of his mind, until it was just Dima Marcus, dirty and alone, on the screen in front of him. His memories of Tarsus were too close to the surface, skittering over his skin after the conversation in Bones’s office, and he fought to focus on the problem at hand. 
Kindinos wasn’t Tarsus. But Dima Marcus looked like he was starving.
Ortiz paused it at the end. Kirk heard the turbolift door open behind him, and he stifled his nervous twitch as he said, “Metadata for the video?” 
“Pretty degraded, sir, but recorded within the past one hundred hours and transmitted from the heading of 106 mark 8, sir.” 
“Helmsman?” 
The helms officer tapped the console and looked back at Kirk. Kirk met his gaze as steadily as he could. The beta shift crew rarely saw situations as serious as this one--- he would not allow his fear to trigger their own. “106 mark 8 is the heading for Kindinos VI from here, sir.” 
“Have we received anything to indicate that this recording is in any way falsified or illegitimate?” 
The beta shift bridge crew paused, looking amongst themselves, and then Lieutenant Karros in the center chair said, “No, sir.” 
Kirk finally turned and looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to see admirals April and Pike waiting by the lift. April’s face was stony as Kirk said, “Helmsman, set a course for Kindinos VI at warp four, and get Scotty back up here or into Engineering as soon as you can.” 
“Yes, sir.”
“We may have had radio silence from Kindinos because something went wrong, admiral,” Kirk said, holding April’s eye contact. “I’ll send Yeoman Rand to work with you to get your schedule fixed as close to correct as possible, but your reports are going to be delayed by a few days.” 
April stared at him, grinding his teeth, before saying, “Understood, captain.” But the man’s open hostility barely registered as he stepped down to the main chair. Karros stood to offer it to him, but he waved her off, forcing his motions to be casual. 
“Lieutenant Ortiz, put me on shipwide comms, please.” He waited until her signal, and then spoke. “Crew of the Enterprise, this is your captain speaking. We’ve received a distress signal, and we are answering its call. Officers Uhura, Giotto, Spock, McCoy, and Rand, report to the ready room. Lieutenant Scott, report to bridge. All others, be prepared for new orders. We’ll arrive in the Kindinos system in---” He turned to look at the helmsman, who mouthed ‘ten hours’--- “ten hours, at which point I will have more details to share. Kirk out.” 
“Lieutenant Karros, keep the conn until the end of your shift,” Kirk said, and she nodded resolutely. “Let me know if we receive any more signals from anything in that direction.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, and the beta bridge crew around her nodded resolutely. Kirk strode back towards the turbolift. As he passed the comms console, he said, “Ortiz, could you please---?” He cut himself off as she handed him a data chip. 
“The video data, sir?” He took it from her and offered her an approving head nod. 
“Well done, lieutenant, that’s exactly right.” She looked down to hide her smile at the praise, and he pocketed the data chip. Spock followed him to the turbolift. 
“Admirals, if you would like to attend this briefing, please feel free to do so.” Pike followed Kirk and Spock into the turbolift, and April stepped in afterwards. The admirals stood in front of Kirk and Spock, all four facing the doors, and the only person who noticed that Spock gently wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist and squeezed was Kirk. He glanced at Spock, who met his eyes, and the contact helped center him back into himself, just a little bit. 
When they entered the conference room, Kirk’s officers were already waiting. Kirk looked over his assembled department heads, his hand-picked and trusted crew, and was grateful to see them. He took his place at the head of the table, Spock at his right hand, and slid the data chip into the room’s computer. 
“We received this message just moments ago,” he said, and hit play. He forced himself to watch as Marcus’s message rang through the room, and he let it play twice before shutting it off and turning back to his crew. Pike had rolled his chair up to the table, sitting beside Uhura, and April sat at the far end, opposite Kirk. His dark eyes were inscrutable. 
“Uhura, here,” Kirk said, and slid the data chip to her. She scooped it neatly off the table. “Beta bridge crew said they didn’t see anything funny about the message, but I’d like you to triple-check their work, just in case. Anything you can tell me about the location of the recording, any of the ambient sounds, especially those explosions, or Marcus himself would be great. We don’t know if the problem is conflict or natural disaster, and I’d like to have that information before we go planetside.” 
“Yes, sir,” she said, and something in her eyes was already going far away, as if she were listening to the message from Marcus in her head again. He turned next to the good doctor, who was watching him too carefully.
“Bones, I’d like ready kits for as many nurses as you think you can stand to send down, one we know what we’re walking into. If it’s a natural disaster, that’s one thing, but if we’re heading into a war zone, we’ll send security first and then triage.” Bones nodded, already tapping on his padd to send instructions down to Sickbay.
“Giotto, we’ll need teams, but I’m not sure how many---” 
“We’ll be able to field at least ten teams of four for a conflict zone, or we could do twenty of two if we’re just looking for survivors.”
“That’s great, Sal, that sounds right to me. Let’s plan for the worst, just in case, and we can split up on the ground if it turns out that way.” Kirk’s mind flicked through the possibilities based on what he knew about Kindinos and dilithium mines, and ran through the consequences of the most likely scenarios. He was hitting an obstacle, though: Kindinos wasn’t in Federation space, and he had very little knowledge to fall back on.
“Mr. Spock. Any information on this planet, the mine, cultural rifts that could cause conflict, any history of physical instability where the mine was built, or any evidence of foul play would be great. I doubt we’ll be able to get any clear information from the residents once we get there, not at first, and I’d like to be prepared for anything.” Spock inclined his head, calm and collected, and even just seeing him sitting at his right hand recentered Kirk further. Kindinos wasn’t Tarsus, and they were going to be ready to help.
Kirk turned to the last officer at his table. “Yeoman Rand, taking this mission is going to severely disrupt our current schedule. I’d like you to work with Admiral April to reprioritize our next round of orders. It’s unclear how long we’ll be in orbit around Kindinos at the moment, so as much leeway as you can provide would be helpful.” 
“Yes, sir,” she said, and nodded to April down the table. April inclined his head in turn, but his eyes flicked back to Kirk.
“Alright,” Kirk said. “We have ten hours until we’ll get there, any other crises notwithstanding. Rand, could you send someone to make sure Scotty gets some sleep when he’s done checking everything over in Engineering? I don’t want him down there all night.” She nodded, pulling out her padd to tap out a message to one of her minions. “We’ve got a little under ten hours until we arrive, and there is almost nothing that we can do for these people in the meantime. You’ve got your orders, but get some sleep, and make sure your people get sleep. Report anything you find or learn directly to me and Spock. Dismissed.” 
His officers stood and filed out of the conference room. Their focused, professional determination imbued the air, and Kirk inhaled it like oxygen. Janice strode ahead to fall in step with April, and Pike hung back until Kirk and Spock stepped out. 
“If you’ve got any insight here, Chris, I’d love to hear it,” Kirk said. 
“Nothing useful, I’m afraid,” Chris said. “I’ve never been out that way before. But I wanted to offer--- if you need any logistics assistance, put me in. An extra brain never hurts on a lifesaving mission.”
An idea sprung to mind fully formed, and it chased away some of the ache in his bones that had started the moment he saw Marcus. “Actually, that would be great,” Kirk said, and he turned to Spock. “Has Chris seen your revision?” 
“6245-B? No.” The empathetic shift in Spock’s face was infinitesimal, but Kirk saw the second he realized what Kirk intended. He nodded minutely. 
“We’re trying something new,” Kirk said, turning back to Chris. “We took on extra unreplicated food stores in case of emergency, and it seems as though we’re going to test a hypothesis sooner rather than later. I’ll send you the inventory, and it would be great if you could think through the most efficient way to distribute it, so that we’re not relying on the replicators. From the looks of Marcus, the people on Kindinos are going to need it.” 
“You’ve got it, captain,” Chris said, and Spock pulled out his padd to send him the documents. With a ding of his padd, Chris acknowledged their receipt, and after a brief ‘goodnight’ he followed the rest of the staff back towards the turbolift that would take him to his quarters. Kirk watched him depart before he turned towards the lift that would take him back to the bridge. 
Spock halted him with a hand around the wrist. His hand was warm. “Your own orders were to rest, sir,” he said. 
“I just wanted to---”
“And you ensured that Lieutenant Karros would maintain command for another four hours.” 
“I was just going to see if they needed anything,” Kirk said. He looked up, meeting Spock’s eyes, and he knew Spock saw him, and understood. 
“Admirable, captain, but unnecessary.” Spock paused. “And you have not yet eaten dinner.” 
As if on cue, Kirk’s stomach rumbled, and though Spock did not look down at the source of the noise he did allow himself a slight eyebrow raise. 
“I can’t sit and do nothing, after seeing that message,” he said, and pulled his wrist from Spock’s grip to take his hand instead. 
“Preparing is not ‘doing nothing.’ You and the rest of the crew will be of more use to the miners if you are fed and rested,” Spock said, and he allowed Kirk to entangle their fingers as he directed them both towards his designated turbolift. 
“And yourself, Mr. Spock?” 
“Vulcans require less sleep and sustenance than humans, captain,” Spock said.
“Does that mean you don’t want to eat dinner with me, then?” The quip rolled off his tongue. Each step with Spock’s hand in his took him further from the shock that had frozen him on the bridge.
Spock paused, affronted, and Kirk laughed. 
“That is not what I said,” he said stiffly, and followed Kirk into the turbolift.
“Alright, then,” Kirk said, and grinned as he pulled Spock towards him. “Officer’s quarters,” he said to the lift as the doors slid shut, and then he towed Spock all the way to him until they were nose to nose. Spock inhaled as Kirk tilted his head up to kiss him, and by the time the lift doors opened again they were both breathless.
☆☆☆
They had only left the quarters a little over twelve hours previously, and yet returning to it with Spock, knowing that he would stay the night, cast the entire suite in a new light. Spock’s robes hanging in his closet, Spock’s crinoid fluttering among his books, Spock’s boots next to his next to the door--- every detail of Spock’s existence in the space that he had inhabited alone for years soothed the ragged edges of his mind. Spock insinuated himself on the couch, pulling every available padd towards himself to research, as Kirk replicated dinner for them--- plomeek soup for Spock, a turkey sandwich for himself. He crossed to join Spock with their food, setting it on the coffee table in front of them, and they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, reading through the ship computer’s resources on Kindinos VI. The file was astonishingly sparse for a planet that supplied one of the Federation’s most valuable resources. 
“There’s effectively nothing here,” Kirk said, as they got to the bottom of the document. “That’s all?” Spock frowned and scrolled back to the top.
“It seems so, captain,” Spock said, and tapped irritatedly at the search bar. Kirk watched as he tried various other options--- information on the system, the mining company, Dima Marcus himself--- but nothing further came up. “Not even a geological survey,” he said. 
“It might be proprietary to the mining company, depending on who owns the planet. It’s not technically in Federation space.” 
Spock hummed in acknowledgement. “We will need to exercise caution, Jim.”
“I always exercise caution.” 
Spock’s eyes cut to him, but he didn’t refute the comment. “Depending on the source of the unrest, a Federation starship may not be a welcome visitor.”
“How do you mean?” 
Spock leaned back against the couch, eyes thoughtful, and crossed his legs. His bony knee pressed into Kirk’s thigh. “The planet was uninhabited before the dilithium was discovered. The only people who live there now are those who are employed by the mine. I assume you are familiar with the great union riots of the 2030s on Earth.”
“I am,” Kirk said, suddenly aware of where Spock was going and uneasy with it. 
“If the conflict is between classes of employees, or perhaps miners and management, the arrival of a consumer of their product may be viewed as harmful to their business.” 
Kirk frowned. “You’re right,” he said. “So we’ll come in gentle. We won’t mention the distress call until we get someone to talk to and hear a little more about what’s going on.” 
“A reasonable approach, captain,” Spock said, and Kirk leaned back against the couch to brush their shoulders together. 
“We were already headed that way for a wellness check,” he said. “We’ll keep that story, say we got concerned when comms broke down and just wanted to see how they were doing. No mention of any problems until we get a hold of someone on the ground.” 
“I think that will be best, captain.” Spock swapped the padd in his hand for one of the others on the coffee table, and skimmed through the document; over his shoulder, Kirk could see the stark, clinical titles from his regulation revision. “Tasking Admiral Pike with implementing the revision was logical.” 
“If you let him hear you call him admiral again, I think he might actually run you down. That chair can get some real speed, you know.” 
“I will endeavor to protect my knees, captain,” Spock said, and Kirk coughed out a surprised laugh. Spock glanced at him as he leaned back against the couch, and turned back to his padd as he said, “Marcus’s appearance distressed you.” 
The disagreement leapt to Kirk’s lips. He bit it back. He could be honest. Spock had earned that, deserved that, from him. 
“We got the message today, but it could be three days old,” he said. “A lot can happen in three days.” Spock did not look at him, but his knee pressed insistently against Kirk’s leg, and Kirk leaned against him. “And if that’s what the overman looked like three days ago, four days once we arrive, what shape is everyone else in?” They sat in silence for a moment before Kirk forced himself to put voice to the fear that howled from the back of his mind. 
“Are there children on Kindinos?”
“It is impossible to be certain,” Spock said quietly. “But I have found no evidence that there is anyone but the employees of the mining company on the planet.” Kirk chewed the inside of his lip. “We will be prepared to act immediately upon arrival, captain. We acquired sufficient foodstuff and have enough staff to respond as soon as we ascertain the needs of the people on the planet.”
Kirk turned over Spock’s words in his mind, pressing their shoulders together, drawing comfort from his proximity and his logical consideration of Kirk’s fears. He watched over Spock’s shoulder as Spock re-read the preliminary report on Kindinos, committing the scant information to memory. 
“I do not believe there is any other information that I can acquire on the planet at this time,” Spock eventually said, and Kirk sat up and arched, stretching his back. He was beginning to feel how Spock had thrown him through the ache in his muscles, and remembered the tingle of Spock dragging his hands across his skin. He stood and crossed the room, swinging his arms to stretch his shoulders, before turning and sitting on the edge of his desk. He considered Spock as his eyes lifted to meet Kirk’s, pulling slowly away from the padd in his hands.
“A shower, I think, before bed,” Kirk said. “We both smell like the gymnasium.” His stomach twinged pleasantly as he recalled the way Spock had moved under his hands that morning and against him in the turbolift later, and he admired the way Spock looked, lounged on their couch with his long legs crossed in front of him. He felt again that strange magnetism that pulled his hands to Spock, even at this distance; he felt that irrepressible need to be close to him, to feel his skin against his. But he no longer felt the vague discomfort of guilt at the idea; his attraction had been joyfully reciprocated.
“If you don’t want to, or if it’s too soon, I understand,” Kirk said. He held Spock’s gaze. “But if you did want to, you could join me.” 
Spock straightened, his padd coming to rest flat against his thighs. Color rose faintly on his cheeks, and his eyes dropped to the floor before he raised them again.
“I would like that,” he said, his voice quiet. Kirk smiled and crossed the room back to him as pleasure at the idea sparked to life inside him. He offered his hand. With only a second’s hesitation, Spock took it, and Kirk pulled him up off the couch and to the bathroom door. Spock followed him in as Kirk crossed directly to Scotty’s half of the bathroom and locked the other door.
☆☆☆
Spock stood on the tile of the bathroom floor in his stockinged feet, arms crossed in front of himself, face impassive.
“Hey,” Kirk said, and put both hands on Spock’s shoulders, the fabric of his science shirt smooth under his hands. “I was serious. We don’t have to.” 
Kirk felt Spock’s shoulders rise as he inhaled through his nose, and he looked down between them as he said again, “I would like to.” But he paused, and even without telepathy Kirk could feel his apprehension vibrating beneath his skin. 
“You haven’t done this before,” Kirk said. 
“I have not,” Spock confirmed. “Though your use of ‘this’ is alarmingly vague.” Kirk grinned and shook him gently by the shoulders.
“You’re sure, though?” Kirk asked. “Because we can wait.”
“I am sure,” Spock said, and his voice was steadier. He met Kirk’s eyes again, his eyes scorching, and uncrossed his arms, reaching one hand to Kirk’s waist. Kirk slid his hands down from Spock’s shoulders, over his ribs, down to his hips, and slipped one finger under the hem of his shirt. 
“May I?” Kirk asked, voice dropping low, and Spock nodded. He slid both hands under Spock’s tunic and pulled it over his head. Spock lifted his arms, his undershirt riding up with the motion to reveal the taut skin of his stomach, the shirt’s journey over his neat hair disturbing its perfect alignment. Kirk balled up the shirt and tossed it in the recycler before turning back to Spock to claim his undershirt and trousers. But Spock reached for him first. Watching his own hands as if committing the movement to memory, Spock pulled his command golds off, skimming his hands over Kirk’s sides as he lifted, and placed the shirt in the recycler with his own. Kirk stepped closer and slid both hands under Spock’s undershirt, pressing them flat against the warmth of Spock’s back. Spock closed his eyes and nodded, and Kirk pulled the undershirt off of him. 
He had seen Spock shirtless a hundred times before, in locker rooms, on away missions, in Sickbay, but never like this. He had never seen Spock with his clothes removed by Kirk’s own hands; his chest hair dark against his pale skin, the leanness of his frame belying his strength. Unable to stop himself, Kirk pressed one hand against his stomach, and felt Spock’s heart beneath his palm.
“Still okay?” 
Spock nodded, and his eyes darkened as he pulled Kirk’s undershirt off. He skimmed a hand along the line of his shoulder, and the soft touch gave him goosebumps. Spock ran one long finger along the bumps on his arm. 
“Are you cold, Jim?” 
Kirk laughed. “No,” he said, and hooked two fingers into the waistband of Spock’s trousers. He pulled, and Spock stepped towards him, bringing them within inches of each other. He was acutely aware of the uneven rise and fall of Spock’s chest, of the slight tremor in his own hands. Spock looked down, replacing the touch of one finger against his goosebumps with his whole hand, and his soft breath against Kirk’s ear made him shiver. 
“Are you certain?” 
“It’s not from the cold, Spock,” Kirk said, skin tingling under Spock’s hands, and he unbuttoned Spock’s trousers. His knuckles brushed the line of hair that trailed into Spock’s pants. Spock stepped out of them as Kirk pulled them down, placing one hand against the wall for balance. Kirk noted the spread of his fingers and flushed as his mind supplied an image of what Spock’s hands might look like, both pressed against the wall of the shower. Down, boy, he told himself. He was going to let Spock set the pace for whatever they did. But Spock stood before him in his boxers and socks, all long, lean lines and chest hair, and some of the nervous tension had left his gestures when he reached for the button of Kirk’s pants. 
“May I?” Spock asked, his mouth next to Kirk’s ear, and when Kirk nodded, his nimble fingers made quick work of the fastenings. Kirk stepped out of his pants and tossed both pairs into the recycler. Spock reached for him, running his hand down Kirk’s arm, eyes following a similar path down the line of his throat and over his chest, lingering at his shorts. Spock exhaled sharply before bringing his hands to the waistband of his own shorts. He met Kirk’s eyes and raised one eyebrow, and Kirk’s mouth dried up as Spock removed the last of his clothing and stood bare before him. Spock, naked, was incredible to behold: every line of him elegant like a dancer, the thin trail of hair down his chest and stomach leading to his half-hard cock, flushed green and double-ridged.
“You’re beautiful,” Kirk said, and watched in fascination as a flush crept down Spock’s neck and across his chest. With Spock’s eyes glued to his hands, he slowly pulled his own shorts down and tossed them and his socks into the recycler. He stood before Spock’s gaze as it swept from his face, down over his torso, to his exposed cock and thighs, and back to his face.
“Jim,” Spock said, hoarse, and reached for him. His hand slid up Kirk’s shoulder, over and behind his neck, and pulled him in as Kirk slid his arms around his back. Their bodies collided as their lips met, and Spock brought both hands up to frame his face. Spock’s chest hair scraped his torso, his cock pressing against Kirk’s hipbone, and he shuddered as Kirk ran his hands from his shoulder blades to the curve of his ass, breathing hard against his mouth. Kirk pulled back to see his face, to gauge if he needed to slow down, but Spock chased him across the distance, eyes dark and intense, to kiss him again. Kirk sighed into Spock’s mouth at the brush of his tongue against his, his hands roaming over his back, and Spock pushed them backwards to press Kirk against the countertop. Kirk’s whole body sang at the pressure of Spock against him, his fingertips digging dimples into his skin. He could feel Spock hardening against him, the twitch of his hips as Kirk shifted, and he pulled one hand between them to press Spock backwards. 
“Shower,” he said, and Spock nodded. Kirk crossed to the shower, setting the water to something he thought would be comfortable for both of them and testing it with his hand. Spock followed behind him. Kirk leaned back until his shoulders pressed against Spock’s chest, and rested his head back against Spock’s shoulder.
“You can touch me,” he said quietly. “However you’re comfortable.” Spock hummed his assent, the sound reverberating in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Kirk from behind, clasping his hands at his navel and dropping his head to press a kiss to the meat of Kirk’s shoulder. He dragged his lips from that point of contact, up his neck, to his ear, where he kissed the rounded top. Kirk shivered at his breath against the shell of his ear.
“God, Spock,” he whispered, and ran his hand along his forearm. He felt Spock’s minute tremble under the touch of his hand, felt his chest expand with a jagged breath against his back. He pulled away to step under the warm stream of water, letting it pour over his head for a second, before he turned back. Spock stared at him as he slicked his wet hair back. His hands hung open, empty, next to him, and he saw one twitch towards him. Spock’s eyes were wide and dark, drinking him in, and Kirk grinned broadly at him. Holding Spock’s gaze, he ran his tongue against his lower lip. 
Spock surged towards him, meeting him under the water, wrapping both arms around him before pressing them both backwards. Kirk hissed into Spock’s mouth as his back hit the cold tile of the shower wall, arching towards him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. Spock ground his hips against him, and the moan that escaped from somewhere deep in his chest set Kirk’s blood on fire. He opened his eyes and ran one hand over Spock, dragging down and catching one nipple with his thumb. Spock shuddered. Water dripped down his nose, and his mouth was half-open as his eyes fluttered shut; he was so beautiful that Kirk’s teeth ached with it. For a moment his head spun as he recognized, as if from outside of his own body, that he was in his shower, grinding his hard-on against his first officer-turned-husband’s. Minutes ago they had been in his quarters, talking about a mission, planning for the away team strategy over dinner, and now they were here, gasping into each other’s mouths. If this was marriage, he thought, then he was looking forward to many more years of it. 
He slid his hand down further, and Spock opened his eyes. “Is this alright?” 
Spock nodded, pressing their foreheads together, and Kirk ran his fingers up Spock’s thigh before slowly wrapping his hand around his cock. Kirk stared in wonder at the microexpressions that flickered across Spock’s face at the contact, as his eyes rolled back even as they slid shut, as his hand spasmed against Kirk’s back where it still held him. He started gently, rolling his wrist as he stroked loosely, and Spock’s hips twitched. His breathing was uneven, shallow and rapid, and when Kirk leaned forward to capture his mouth again Spock groaned into him. He swallowed the noise, pulling Spock’s lip between his teeth, sucking on his tongue, and the rhythm of his kisses grew more unsteady with every pass of his hand.
He twisted his hand slowly and Spock pulled one hand from behind Kirk’s back to plant it unsteadily against the wall of the shower. Kirk glanced at it in awe, at the water dripping down to his angular wrist from long fingers, splayed against the tile. He closed his hand over both ridges and swiped his thumb over the head, and he felt the sticky slide of precome on his hand as Spock dropped his head to Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to Spock’s neck, running his unoccupied hand up to tease at his nipples, and Spock shuddered fully against him. 
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed. “I can’t believe--- I wasn’t sure---” He shut his mouth and turned his head, pressing a kiss to Spock’s wrist to prevent himself from saying anything unforgivably vapid, and increased the speed of his hand. Spock’s hips rocked in time with his movement, his breath coming harshly, and when he increased the pressure Spock keened quietly and pressed his mouth down against the meat of Kirk’s shoulder. He felt Spock begin to tremble, heard the voiceless whine catch in the back of his throat, and he continued the pace of his hand, bringing the other up to cradle the back of Spock’s head. 
“Jim,” Spock said, wrecked and ragged, and Kirk kissed the side of his head. “I---” His trembling intensified, long thighs tensing; his lungs heaved like bellows, and the hand planted against the wall flexed unconsciously. 
“Good,” Kirk murmured. “I want you to.” It was not lost on him that he was the first person to have ever seen Spock like this, held him and felt him like this, and he seared it in his memory: the deep timbre of his groan, the hitch in his breathing, the weight of his head on his shoulder, the way the hand that he still pressed against the small of Kirk’s back pulled him ever closer. 
Spock came with Kirk’s hand wrapped around him, his face pressed into the crook of Kirk’s neck, pulsing up over Kirk’s fist and their stomachs. Kirk, more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life and so desperately in love that he thought his lungs might burst with it, stroked him through it and took more of his weight as Spock relaxed against him. For a moment Spock leaned into him, mouth pressed into his shoulder, Kirk’s shoulders pressed against the wall of the shower, and he ran his hands up and down Spock’s back, brushing from the crown of his head to the base of his spine. Spock’s breathing slowed, and he dropped his hand from the wall as he lifted his head to meet Kirk’s eyes.
“Hey, you,” Kirk said. 
“Hello,” Spock said, and he tentatively brushed a lock of wet hair from Kirk’s forehead, fingertips skimming over his eyebrow. Kirk put his palm flat against Spock’s sternum, feeling the warmth of him, his once-again steady breathing, and pushed him further under the water. He stepped backwards, watching Kirk with those warm eyes, and Kirk pulled his washcloth from the rack and dispensed soap onto it. He lathered it up and met Spock under the water. Spock was pliant as he ran the washcloth over his shoulders, down his arms, and he allowed Kirk to manipulate him to get under his arms, running the cloth over his palms and down his chest. 
“I am capable of cleansing myself,” Spock said, but there was no real rebuke in it. 
“I know,” Kirk said. “But I want to do it for you.” He ran the cloth gently over his thighs, swiping between his legs, before pushing on one shoulder. Spock turned, allowing him unfettered access to his back. 
Kirk swept the washcloth over the broad expanse of his fine-boned shoulders and said, “Will you indulge my curiosity for a moment?” 
“Yes,” Spock said, and turned his head slightly to listen. Kirk ran the washcloth down his spine, trailing his other hand through the bubbles left behind.
“When did you know?”
Spock’s silence was contemplative, and Kirk waited. He ran the washcloth over Spock’s ribs and down his hips until it was clear that it was only an excuse to touch him, and even then continued. 
“There is no ambiguity in relationships among my people,” Spock said. “Either there is already a bond, such as that between parents and child, or bondmates, and there is no question of what the relationship is; or there is no bond. Our telepathy, our culture, leaves very little room for the question of ‘what if.’” Kirk basked in his deep voice bouncing off the tiles, reverberating through the small space. “When we first met, I was betrothed. Though there was no affection between myself and T’Pring, I did not think that status would change. This was a miscalculation on my part, but one I find that I am now grateful for.” 
Spock paused, and Kirk stayed where he was behind him, hands skimming up and down Spock’s arms. “You are my friend,” Spock said. “But I had never before known ambiguity in a relationship. I did not understand how the line between friendship and more may be blurred, and therefore did not recognize it when it happened. It was not until I was threatened with a future that did not include you that I realized that my sentiment had exceeded its original parameters.”
“Wait,” Kirk said, hands pausing in their steady rhythm at Spock’s wrists. “So then you already knew by the time I found out about the offer. You’ve wanted this… since the beginning?” 
“That is correct.” Kirk squeezed Spock’s wrists and pressed his forehead to the back of Spock’s neck. 
“I though…” Kirk’s heart felt like it was expanding in his chest as he reevaluated, day by day, the circuitous path that had taken them from his nervous proposal in Spock’s old quarters to this moment. “I thought you just didn’t want to leave the Enterprise.” Spock hummed, and Kirk felt it vibrate through him, where he was pressed to him.
“You were the one who assumed the Enterprise as the referent point,” Spock said, and Kirk could almost feel his amusement. “I simply did not correct you.” Kirk lifted his head and continued running his hands over Spock’s arms, feeling the strong lines of his muscle, the upright set of his shoulders.
“And you agreed to a fake marriage anyway? Even before knowing how this would go, even before I had caught up?” Kirk laughed softly, shaking his head. “Humans would call that being a glutton for punishment.” 
“It is no punishment to be where I want to be, captain,” Spock said, and Kirk again pressed his head against his. “But after meditation and---” he cleared his throat, and Kirk looked up to see a faint flush of color on his cheeks--- “an illuminating series of conversations with Nyota, I believe I know when this… ambiguity began.” 
“Will you tell me?” Kirk asked, and Spock turned in his arms. He took the washcloth from Kirk’s hand, applied more soap, and rubbed it to a lather. 
“Babel,” Spock said, and slid the soapy washcloth over Kirk’s shoulders. Kirk watched him; watched the water drip over his eyebrows and cheekbones, down the line of his throat, over the steady movements of his hands. 
“Even though I lied to you?” 
“By saving my father from my decision, you preserved not only his life, but the wellbeing of my mother through her bondmate and any future possibility for me of repairing my familial bonds.” Spock ran the washcloth carefully over Kirk’s chest and stomach, wiping away the evidence of his orgasm, before turning Kirk around to wash his back. He said quietly, “That was the first time that I saw logic bow to kindness. And the first time that such a kindness had been extended to me.” 
The rough fabric of the washcloth vanished, replaced by Spock’s hands, sliding over Kirk’s shoulders and down his arms. He stepped closer behind him, his chest against his back, his cheekbone pressed to Kirk’s temple. “When did you become aware?”
“I think it had been building for a while,” Kirk said, and let Spock take more of his weight against his chest as they stood beneath the water. “When April called me and told me about your promotion, I panicked. I wasn’t ready for you to leave. But it wasn’t until the night that I kissed you for the first time that I realized why I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Spock unclasped his hands, pressing them to Kirk’s stomach, pulling him closer. Kirk turned his head, pressing his forehead against Spock’s cheek. “But I think you knew that.” 
“Any sense of ambiguity disappeared the night of our wedding,” Spock said, and Kirk could feel his voice through his chest, against his back. “When I took your hands.” 
“Ah,” Kirk said, smiling, and lifted his hand to put it on the back of Spock’s head. “You mean I wasn’t successful in hiding my feelings from you that night?” 
“You are many things, captain, but subtle is not usually one of them. What I felt from you, and what I felt in response…” Spock paused, pressed to him. “It was unambiguous.” They stood together under the shower for another minute, breathing in time with each other, before Spock inhaled deeply and slid his hand down through the hair on his stomach, towards his thighs.
“Spock,” Kirk whispered, as his body responded to the gentle touch. “You don’t have to.” 
“I know,” Spock said, voice low in his ear. “But I desire to do it for you.” He wrapped one arm around Kirk, holding him back against his chest, and curled those long, graceful fingers around him in one unselfconscious move. He dropped his head back onto Spock’s shoulder as the water ran down his chest, Spock’s hands burning brands into his skin, his mouth pressing kisses into his neck, and the way Spock touched him made him feel brand new. 
Had any of his previous lovers been so attuned to every twitch and sigh? Had he ever been so comfortable with someone, allowing them to care for him, without feeling the need to remove the center of attention from himself? He couldn’t remember the last time that he had allowed someone to focus entirely on him, insist on his pleasure, single-mindedly pursue it with that inhuman concentration--- but now he did. Spock chased his moans out of his mouth, turning him around to hold him against the wall and kiss him, hand moving ceaselessly on him, and Kirk held onto his shoulders and pressed his head against his neck and let Spock’s insistent rhythm push all other thoughts but him, him, him, yes, yes, yes out of his head.
☆☆☆
Dried and dressed, Kirk and Spock sat side-by-side in the bed, reading over the updates that Uhura and Giotto had sent. The security teams were ready, briefed on what little they knew about the mission, and would be ready to beam down with them as soon as they knew what was going on. Uhura had sent an audiological report that made Kirk uneasy: the audio in the recording was degraded, fuzzy after its travel through space, but it was her professional opinion that the video was legitimate and that the explosions in the background were not from military munitions but industrial machinery. 
He didn’t know if that was better or worse.
“There could be some sort of geological disturbance,” Spock said, as Kirk leaned against him and scanned through Uhura’s report again. 
“Or the miners could be weaponizing the machinery if they are fighting the management,” Kirk said, and Spock inclined his head in agreement. “I think we ought to beam down first,” he continued. “Before sending down the security teams. See if we can’t find someone to talk to, who might be able to give us more information. I don’t want to add more weapons into a volatile situation.” 
Spock exhaled quietly through his nose. Kirk turned to him. “You don’t like my plan?” 
“Your plan is sound,” Spock allowed. He looked at Kirk, warm dark eyes flicking between his own and the padd. “Is there any possibility of convincing you to remain aboard the ship until the situation on the ground has been ascertained?”
“Of course not,” Kirk said, narrowing his eyes. “You know I won’t order my crew into anything that I won’t go into myself.” Spock looked back to the padd in his lap before twining his fingers through Kirk’s. 
“I know, captain,” Spock said. He was silent for a moment before he said, “I am going with you.” Kirk took one more glance over the reports from his team before he closed the padd and set it aside, leaning over to rest his head on Spock’s shoulder. 
“I rely on it,” he said quietly. “On you coming with me.” So smoothly and gracefully he didn’t realize at first what he was doing, Spock slid them both down the bed until they were horizontal, laying next to each other. 
“I must admit, illogical though it is, I do have a preference among the revelations from the past week.” 
“A daring admission, Mr. Spock. Please, do tell.” 
“The rule that the security team follows,” Spock said, the chocolate brown of his eyes warm in the light of their quarters. “That on away missions, they can trust that I will be where you are.” Beneath the comforter, Kirk lifted Spock’s arm to slide himself beneath it and lay his head on his shoulder. Such boldness, he thought, even as Spock adjusted to make room for him. 
“That might be my favorite, too,” Kirk said. “That, or the nurses’ log.” 
Spock hummed in consideration. “It was their log that first showed me that you treated me in the same manner that I treated you.” 
Kirk lifted his head. “What do you mean?” 
“After I became aware of my own affection, I assumed that you would not reciprocate. I had no evidence to the contrary, and I did not desire to assign meaning to the emotions transferred through your touch without more context.” Spock turned to meet his eyes. “I was unaware of how much time you spent in Sickbay when you were not required to be there.” Kirk lay back down and ordered the lights off.
“If you like, Mr. Spock, I’ll start waking you when you’re in Medbay and I come to see you,” Kirk teased. “So you can know when your captain is worrying about you.” 
“A considerate gesture,” Spock said. “Might I suggest, however, spending less time in Medbay and more time practicing self-preservation?”
“Hey,” Kirk complained, curling closer to Spock’s warmth, thrilling at the way his hand slipped beneath his sleep shirt to press possessively against his hip. “I thought we were talking about you.” 
“I believe we could ask Dr. McCoy to analyze who spends more time on a biobed,” Spock said. “If I am remembering correctly, you have spent at least 11.8% more time, comparatively---” His sentence ended rather abruptly as Kirk stretched up to kiss him instead, and he rolled towards Kirk immediately to place a hand against his face and kiss him in return. 
As they broke apart and settled down to sleep, Kirk thought that he had just discovered a way to increase the number of future disagreements that he won quite considerably. 
☆☆☆
Jimmy was back in the treehouse on Tarsus, during one of the early days. But he looked around at his sleeping kids, and there was one extra body laying on the wooden floor. He counted them again: Kevin and Mira and Ellie, then Tommy and Laika and himself. And then the last body, laying with his back to Jimmy, shivering in the light wind. Jimmy crawled over to him, quietly so as to not disturb the littles, and shook the stranger’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he said. “Who are you?” 
Dima Marcus rolled over, face shrunken and skeletal with hunger, and whispered, “Help me.” 
Kirk woke to the darkness of his own room, and to Spock’s hand sliding across the bed to find him. 
“Are you distressed, Jim?” 
“It was just a nightmare,” Kirk said, and he fought his instinct to squirm out from under that telepathic hand. “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.” 
“Will you be returning to sleep?” 
Kirk hesitated, and in the silence Spock read his answer. He heard Spock roll over to face him as he retracted his hand back to his side of the bed. 
“Do you wish to discuss it?” 
His immediate answer was no. His second answer was absolutely not. But his third answer was a little less defensive, a little more willing to share the burden. Three days ago he would have refused to open up. But tonight, in the dark, after Spock had proven over and over again that he was not going to leave, maybe he could bear a little vulnerability. 
“It’s all too close to the surface,” he said. “I need more time. Two weeks ago, I don’t think Marcus would have rattled me at all. Today?” He scoffed a little. “After the past seventy-two hours? Everything reminds me of the colony.” 
“What would you do, given more time?” 
“I don’t know,” he said, rolling to lay flat on his back, staring at his familiar ceiling, cast in the light of his alarm clock. “Sort out this one problem, and then move onto other missions. Get my head on right again.”
“I believe your head is attached to your body correctly, captain,” Spock said solemnly, and Kirk huffed out a laugh before sliding his hand across the bed. Spock met it with his own, entwining their fingers gently. 
“I spent years locking all this away so that it wouldn’t interfere with anything else,” Kirk eventually said. “I’m still glad to know the truth, or be closer to it. Or something. But I can’t help but feel that I would be better prepared for tomorrow if I hadn’t…” What? Unlocked everything that he had kept hidden away? Opened Pandora’s box of Starfleet conspiracies? 
“In the years since I have come to know you, I have never feared that you would allow your emotions to disrupt your command. This has not changed.” Spock’s thumb traced a gentle line over the back of his hand, and Kirk lay on his back and breathed. “We will assist the people on Kindinos VI however we are able, and afterwards we will continue to investigate what you witnessed. But I do not think that your abilities have been diminished because you are now acknowledging an unresolved issue.” 
Kirk squeezed his hand. “I’m worried about what all this will do to Kevin, too. To the other survivors.”
“I do not doubt that it will be a painful process. But if I may be forthright, captain, I believe a future in which the perpetrators are brought to justice would be preferable to a future in which the burden of secrecy remains with you.” 
They lay in silence. Kirk listened to the steady rhythm of Spock’s breathing, and matched his own to it, and it helped to relieve the tension that had clenched his shoulders in the aftermath of his dream.
“I would still like to cross-reference Lieutenant Riley’s medical records with your own,” Spock said. “But I have also been thinking about other sources of clandestine information.” 
“Oh?” 
“When I was… involved, in some of Michael’s efforts, I became aware of Admiral April’s role as a liaison between Section 31 and the rest of Starfleet during the conflict. He made his distaste for the organization clear, but he may have useful information to offer from that experience.” 
“April?” Kirk asked, the disbelief apparent in his voice, even to him. “That’s hard to imagine. If there were a pictographic representation of ‘hardass’ or ‘by the book’ in the dictionary, it would just be a picture of his face.” He sighed. “We’ll have enough quality time with him over the next two weeks, though. It’s a good idea.”
“We can request that he provide us with additional information about Section 31 as a wedding gift,” Spock said, and Kirk snorted in surprise laughter. He rolled over, away from Spock, but pulled him towards him by their connected hands. Spock obligingly draped himself over Kirk, burying his face in the back of his neck.
“Why the hell did Elise go to such lengths to keep me quiet, when you’ve been walking around with all these dangerous details for years?” Spock’s breath gusted softly against the fine hairs at the nape of Kirk’s neck, and he shivered lightly. 
“I estimate that they assumed a betrothed Vulcan on a ship of humans would never build such a level of rapport as to share those details,” Spock said, and Kirk grinned in the darkness. 
“A grave miscalculation,” Kirk said, and Spock’s arm tightened over his chest. 
“Indeed.”
☆☆☆
Kirk was awakened the next morning, not by the harsh trilling of his alarm clock, but by a warm hand sweeping softly down the side of his face. He blinked awake. Spock sat on the edge of the bed, in uniform, leaning over him. 
“Hello, Jim,” he said, and Kirk smiled.
“Hey, you,” he said. “Up early?” 
“I meditated,” Spock said, and leaned back to allow Kirk to sit up and stretch, sliding out of bed around him and pressing a kiss to the shoulder of Spock’s shirt as he passed. 
“Needed a respite from me and all my illogical human touching?” 
Spock, turning to watch him cross to the closet and pull out his uniform, said, “Never.” Kirk grinned with no slight satisfaction as Spock, face carefully impassive but eyes hawkish, watched him strip out of his pajamas and step into his uniform. He finished dressing and came to stand in front of Spock, where he still sat on the edge of the bed. He stepped into Spock’s space, between his legs, and Spock let him push his knees apart. Kirk tilted his face up with two fingers, leaning down to him, and said huskily, “Big day ahead.” 
Kirk could see the carefully restrained eye roll that he almost certainly deserved for the figure of speech, but Spock let him kiss him anyway, so he thought he might have been forgiven.
Kirk and Spock stepped out of their quarters into a tense and subdued atmosphere, and Kirk’s heart sank. The safe comfort of their room melted away as the crisis on Kindinos VI took center-stage in his mind, and he pushed everything but the people they might find, and the help they might need, to the backburner. They had a brief breakfast, with an extra cup of coffee, and then he strode onto the bridge with Spock a half-step behind to relieve the delta shift.
“Approaching hailing distance in thirty minutes, sir,” the delta helmsman said, as Sulu slid into his seat. 
“Noted, thank you, helmsman,” Kirk said. The next thirty minutes passed in a blur of details: Giotto’s list of security teams, Uhura’s follow-up report on the details of Marcus’s accent, Spock’s more and more elaborate search queries returning nothing useful on Kindinos or the mining company.
Finally, Uhura said from behind him, “Hailing range of Kindinos VI, sir.” Kindinos was a drab little planet in the viewscreen; brown and red and gray, with no visible bodies of water or splashes of green to indicate plant life. According to the sparse report he had read the night before, Kindinos had a Class M atmosphere--- barely. It looked nothing like Tarsus, and yet there was an ache in his stomach that he couldn’t settle. 
“Hail on all frequencies, Lieutenant.” 
“Hailing, captain.” Kirk turned to watch her as she pressed her hand to her earpiece, head tilting as she listened to whatever reached them from the beyond. Half a minute passed. Kirk watched her, her eyes flicking over the console readouts, one hand dancing lightly on the frequency tuner, before she turned back to him. 
“No response, sir.” 
“Let’s try them again.” The bridge hushed around him as Uhura spun back to her console, deft hands flying over the controls with her bright silver earpiece sparkling under the lights. Another thirty seconds passed, her shoulders creeping upwards with tension as she listened. The silence on the bridge was oppressive. She pulled the piece from her ear and turned back.
“Nothing, sir. I can’t even get acknowledgement from their receiver.” Kirk ignored the way his stomach sank and turned to his first officer. 
“What’s the population of the planet, Mr. Spock?”
“It had been uninhabited before the dilithium was discovered and the mine was built. Estimates place the population now at five thousand individuals, mostly human, all employees of Dextrum Mining Corporation.” Kirk nodded as Spock glanced over his shoulder at him, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He stared at the little brown planet.
“Take us into orbit, Mr. Sulu,” he said. “We’re going to beam down and see if we can’t find anyone who can tell us a little bit about what’s going on.” He commed Giotto to have him meet them at the transporter with two teams. “Mr. Spock, with me. Sulu, you have the conn.” 
The turbolift door opened. April and Pike exited. Eyes flashing immediately to the planet on the viewscreen, April asked, “Were you able to raise them?”
“No, sir,” Kirk said, and did his best to ignore April’s determination to be involved in ship’s business, despite his rank and protests of other work to do. “All frequencies, twice, nothing. We’re going down with security to see if we can find anyone to talk to.”
“I will join the away team,” April said, and stared Kirk down as if daring him to argue. Kirk considered it. But even if he told April he couldn’t participate, April would just override his orders. “I’ve met Dextrum’s owner before. An unpleasant man, but if he knows anything, he might be more likely to tell a familiar face.” 
Kirk clenched his jaw. Did April miss the days when the Enterprise was his? Was he so desperate to prove that his relationship with Spock was bad for his command? But the admiral’s rank tied his hands. 
He simply said, “Thank you, Admiral. Your familiarity will prove useful.” He and Spock crossed back to the turbolift, April following them, and nodded to Sulu as he replaced Kirk in the center chair. As they passed Chris, Chris met his eyes and glanced at the padd balanced on his chair. 
“Logistics,” he said, and caught Kirk’s eye. Kirk nodded, and some of his tension lifted. Even if Kindinos was in famine, Spock’s regulation revision and Chris’s efforts would make it easier to distribute food. They would be prepared for whatever they found. Kirk would be prepared for whatever they found. 
“Admiral, would you mind staying with Sulu? I’d appreciate you on deck if it comes to that.” 
“Yes, captain,” Chris said, and navigated the hoverchair down to sit next to Sulu. Kirk, Spock, and April piled into the turbolift, and the doors closed behind them, erasing the bridge from their vision. 
“Transporter,” Kirk told the lift, and it began its descent. There were two seconds of silence before April, glancing between them, said, “You’re both going?” 
“Yes,” Kirk bit out. It was technically against regulation, and he knew it, and April knew he knew it, but he had also never been on a ship that actually followed that rule. April opened his mouth but Spock interrupted him, facing resolutely forward.
“As the highest-ranking science officer, and the only one with security and conflict certifications, it is logical for me to join away teams on potentially dangerous missions.” 
April side-eyed him. “And the captain is going because…?” 
“Kindinos VI is not in Federation space, and Dextrum Mining Corporation not a Federation organization. Captain Kirk is present as a representative of Starfleet and the Federation as a matter of diplomacy.” Spock did not say obviously out loud, but it was nearly impossible to miss through his tone, and Kirk suppressed his appreciative grin. 
April exhaled loudly through his nose, but he didn’t say anything further, and the turbolift door opened to reveal a busy transporter room. Scotty stood at the control panel, scanning his readouts, as Giotto and eight security officers waited in body armor, checking and rechecking the environmental protection suits strapped to their backs. Giotto gave him a firm nod as they entered, but he wasn’t kitted out like the others--- he would manage their movements from the ship, where he could see all the teams’ movements. 
“Admiral,” Giotto said, and shook his hand. Kirk slipped away to sidle up to Scotty at the controls, and Scotty smiled distractedly at him. 
“Supervision, sir?” The Scotsman’s voice was quiet, and he glanced at the admiral.
“Seems so. He says he knows someone down there.” 
“Aye, but it seems dangerous to send the brass into what might be a war zone,” Scotty said, leaning closer to drop his voice further. 
“I agree, but I couldn’t exactly tell him no.” Kirk looked over at April again, who talked seriously to Giotto. He didn’t give off the impression that he wanted to relive his glory days as a starship captain--- and yet here he was, joining the away mission. Kirk felt something press into his hand, and he glanced down. 
“Just in case,” Scotty said, and glanced between Kirk, Spock, and Admiral April. “It’s still untested, but in theory it should work.” In Kirk’s palm lay a heavy comms device; the prototype that Scotty had been working on the week prior, now soldered shut and seemingly operational. “Flip it open, hit the button, and we’ll try to get you out. Let’s try for just one at a time at first, though, hmm?” 
“Thanks, Scotty,” Kirk said, and clasped his shoulder gratefully. “I hope we won’t need it.” 
“I do too, sir,” Scotty said, and Kirk left him to return to Spock’s side, where the Vulcan gazed calmly over the assembled crew. He cleared his throat loudly, and the room fell silent around him. 
“We were unable to contact the miners on Kindinos VI upon our arrival,” he said to the away teams. “The last contact we had was the message for help, sent three days ago. We are beaming down to ascertain the situation, assess the need for medical aid or humanitarian assistance, and discover the cause of their silence. We don’t know the cause of any potential disaster, or what situation we may find on the ground, so take every precaution. Any questions?” 
His crew, silent and ready, shook their heads. He nodded at them, looking around to make eye contact with each of them. “Be safe. Be careful. Check in with the ship every thirty minutes.” Giotto handed him an environmental suit, and he slung it over his back as April and Spock did the same. 
The weight on his back settled him. Kirk strode onto the transporter pad, Spock a half-step behind him, and took his place on one of the plates. He settled his shoulders back, bracing himself. He did not know what they would find; whether they were walking into an active conflict, or if an earthquake or other disaster had wrought ruin on the mine. But though Marcus wore the sharp bones of starvation, Kindinos was not Tarsus. His crew was prepared. They were here to help, and they were going to be fine.
Spock claimed the plate to his right, and April stepped up to his left. Kirk mechanically and automatically ran his hands over his belt for his phaser and comm unit, feeling the experimental one tucked into his inner pocket, and then nodded to Scotty.
“Energize.” 
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oooo we makin progress oooooo
also please ignore my hand ;v;;;
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