Logical Fallacy

by obsidienne

Summary:

They’ve been cadet and instructor, captain and first officer, friends (both begrudging and pining) and now lovers. But with all that, Jim wonders if moving in with Spock might be the death knell to end it all.

Notes:

This goes with my series, The Vulcan Heart. It is the third in the series.

~k/s~

“Isn’t it a little soon to be moving in with him?” 

Bones, ever the skeptic.

“I’ve been with him around the clock since I woke up,” Jim points out with a shrug. Woke up, came back from the dead, same difference.  “And once we’re back aboard the Enterprise, it’ll be the same. We lived in each other’s pockets then too.” Even when we weren’t together, Jim wants to add, but Bones knows it just as well. “He’s not sick of me yet.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Bones grunts as they pass a group of ensigns replacing a bulkhead.  

“So, you’re about to tell me what you’re worried about,” Jim prompts with a side grin when his friend doesn’t continue. “Wait, let me guess, you’re worried you’ll miss me, right? With me cuddled up with Spock–”

“Right,” Bones snorts. “A Vulcan who cuddles.” 

Jim tucks his smile away.  Spock probably wouldn’t appreciate anyone knowing just how much a certain Vulcan cuddles… although, if Jim thinks about it… maybe it is weird. Do Vulcans cuddle? Does Spock actually like to cuddle? Or does he just tolerate the limpet-like tendency of Jim’s? 

Frowning now, Jim misses whatever Bones says next and gets nudged with an elbow.  

“Right, sorry. What?” 

Bones scowls at him. “Why do I even bother talking if no one ever listens?” 

“Because you love the sound of your own voice?” Jim suggests.  “Delusions of grand–ooph!” He gets a sharper elbow this time.  He feigns a frown at his friend and makes a show of cradling his ribs.  “Jeez, I was dead only a few weeks ago. You’d think a guy’s doctor would be a little gentler.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Bones grouses, although Jim doesn’t miss the tiny squint of consternation around his eyes, so Jim drops his hand and gives up the show with a grin. Bones rolls his eyes but says seriously, “I know you’ve been gaga for him for ages, but you just started–do not make it dirty,” he warns when Jim opens his mouth to do just that. “I’m just looking out for you, kid.  Maybe slow’s the way to go here.” 

Jim knows relationships can be a tricky topic with Bones, even with him embarking on one of his own at the moment.  But maybe that’s part of it too.  Carol and Bones are taking it about as slow as two beings can, with Bones not even willing to admit she's his girlfriend.  Jim, on the other hand, welcomes the anticipation fizzing in his belly as they wind their way to engineering–and to Spock.  It’s been two hours since they were in the same room, and seriously, that is too long to be apart. They didn’t spend nearly this much time not together before they were together.  “It’ll be fine,” Jim says, but has to wonder if Bones has a point. A small one. “Besides, Spock was the one who asked me to stay with him, not the other way around.” 

“You mean move in?” Bones corrects with a look that Jim wishes wasn’t so knowing.  “That’s what you’re doing, Jim. At least that’s what your first officer thinks you’re doing.” 

Jim shrugs. “It’s less than eight months–six, according to Scotty–and this gorgeous girl–” He grins at Bones’ eye roll. “–will be back where she belongs and we’ll have our own cabins.” 

“At least he didn’t requisition a team to knock down the bulkheads and build a newlywed suite for you.”

“Yeah,” Jim says, an uneasy feeling settling over the anticipation.  Although he’s not sure why.  Joint quarters. That would be ridiculous. He’s positive Spock isn’t thinking about that–he just wants to make sure he’s nearby when the nightmares crop up–which they do pretty much every night.  And he obviously misses Jim when they’re not together. It isn’t like he ever objected to spending so much time together; even when they weren’t on duty, and honestly, when he probably should have been spending time with–

“Well, speak of the devil.” 

The unhelpful thoughts pinch off to make way again for the anticipation–not at all dulled by Bones’ cautious vibes.  Jim grins at his first officer, who raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement.  Chekov is talking his gorgeous pointed ears off, by the look of it, but the ensign breaks off at the sight of Jim and Bones and greets them both enthusiastically. 

He barely takes a breath before he’s telling them every detail of the work he and Spock put into the communications array. Jim nods along, but as usual, being greeted with Spock–no matter where they are–it’s impossible not to glance at his first officer between words.  Spock is watching him as well.  Jim tries not to let his face betray how much he wants to kiss him.  

He probably fails since Bones interrupts Chekov’s gleeful dissertation with a smirk aimed at Jim.  “Come on, Pavel,” he says, taking the young ensign’s elbow. “Let’s go down to engineering and tell Scotty all about it.  The captain has important things to discuss with his first officer.” He waggles his eyebrows at Jim and Jim kind of wants to kick him in the shin. 

McCoy is grinning broadly as he pulls Chekov away and Jim is left with Spock’s eyebrows raised in curious synchrony.  He has his hands behind his back, as he often does while they’re standing around discussing ship’s business. In that very spirit, Jim says, “We finished the inventory of the armory.  Giotto sent off the requisition.” 

“I will ensure he is notified as soon as it arrives,” Spock says easily, although he doesn’t lose the curiosity. “Was that the important discussion to which Dr. McCoy referred?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, which Jim can run with.  Much better than walking head on into a conversation they don’t need to have. 

“Not so much a discussion as a moment alone with my first officer…” He lets his voice trail off and Spock needs no more encouragement. 

“The conference room to your left is unoccupied,” he says in a low voice and Jim grins. It takes less than a minute to lock the door behind them and even less than that before Spock is kissing him.  Jim sinks into it; wants to let everything go for this, but Spock doesn’t seem to be in any particular hurry now that they’re alone. He gets his hands beneath Jim’s tunic, his lips gentle. He seems content to keep it that way. 

“I can feel your unease,” Spock murmurs. Jim knows he can sense his emotions like this. Which is fine as long as Jim can keep his shit in check. “May I know the cause?” 

“No cause,” Jim tells him, voice rough as he angles his head to allow the soft kisses along his jaw.  Spock obliges and Jim lets out a shaky breath.  “Needed this…” 

He can feel Spock’s lips curve upward.  “You have been in anticipation of our coupling,” he surmises and it makes Jim grin.  

“Horny,” he agrees.  “It’s been forever.” 

“Six point five hours.” 

“Way too long.” 

Spock’s teeth graze his jaw.  “Did you imagine a particular activity?” he asks in that low voice that always hits Jim square in the gut. It makes his dick twitch as well. 

“Are you asking me about my fantasies, Spock?” he teases. 

“Affirmative.” 

That startles a laugh out of Jim. He pulls back to grin at his first officer fully and then pulls him in for a kiss.  Spock’s eyes are hungry when they break.  His fingers are firm against Jim’s hips and Jim can feel how aroused he is.  Jim licks his lips, watches the way Spock watches him do it. Jim tilts his head, gives Spock his best slow smile. “You fucking me against the bulkhead in a conference room sounds about right.” 

Spock’s fingers tighten.  “Where else did you imagine I might fuck you?” 

It’s a gruff demand, and Jim might have smiled at the unexpected echo, but his mind is running away with the question instead. 

“On the bridge–” Spock’s hands slide down to cup his ass. “Observatory… you and me naked and just the stars… Oh, god–” Spock is maneuvering his uniform off and Jim can hardly keep up; both with the idea of being fucked all over the ship and with the way Spock is stroking his skin. “There are probably dozens of regulations against it…” That was half the appeal. 

“There are, in fact, two. However, they do not apply to us,” Spock tells him, absolutely sounding like they aren’t about two seconds away from naked. 

“Yeah?” Jim tries to reply with equal equanimity but it comes out mostly moan. “... Why not?” 

“Do you truly wish me to pause our activities to detail the specific regulations?” Spock rumbles with amusement–and maybe there’s some arousal in there too.  

“No,” Jim groans, going completely lax under Spock’s insistent hands; one of which is moving southward.  “Don’t…pause… anything.” 

Spock backs him up to the bulkhead. “As you wish.” 

—

There’s no clear delineation from staying over to moving in. Most of Jim’s things have ventured over from his temporary quarters during the past weeks. Every stitch of clothing, from sweatpants to dress uniform always ends up neatly beside Spock’s in the closet each morning–no matter where it’s been dropped after being plucked off by Spock himself the night before.  

Jim’s favorite foods have found their way into the kitchen, too. Mostly, Jim thinks, because Spock took Bones’ admonishments to put some meat back on his bones very seriously.  Not that Jim doesn’t appreciate it. He’s pretty sure he loves Spock even more because of it.  It’s just weird, is all. To feel like he belongs here.  

It scares the living shit out of him is what it does.  

But he didn’t make youngest captain in the Fleet by being a chicken shit, so he ignores the feeling.  He and Spock spend most of their time together anyway, so it shouldn’t feel weird to follow his first officer from their latest briefing with top brass straight to Spock’s quarters.  But Bones’ cautions are still ringing in his head. 

“Is something amiss?” 

Startled out of his thoughts, Jim is surprised to find Spock eyeing him. They’re at the door to his quarters and Jim is just standing there staring at it.   

“Oh.  Shit, sorry. Yeah, I’m good,” he thinks to add as he steps aside. “Oh, right, sorry,” he says with a grimace when he gets a dark eyebrow quirked in response. Spock added Jim’s thumbprint scan to the door’s reader just last night. 

“Your apology is unnecessary,” Spock murmurs as he scans his own thumb. The door slides open obligingly.  Once it’s closed behind them, he turns to face Jim again. 

His fingers settle against Jim’s face, just a soft caress but it makes Jim’s skin tingle. “You are still uneasy.” 

It’s becoming a theme. 

“Just tired,” Jim tells him with a smile. It’s not really a lie, and Spock never argues with him anyway, so it’s easy to shift his attention with a kiss. Spock’s immediate response is satisfying, claiming his mouth in the next second. 

They’re halfway to the bedroom when Spock murmurs, “If you are tired–”

“Never too tired for this.” 

Spock takes him at his word. That one was definitely not a lie. He loves Spock like this. He doesn’t have any time to think as Spock strips him of his uniform and manhandles him onto the bed.  He’s never sure what puts Spock in this kind of mood–the one where Jim gets fucked into oblivion, but he loves it. 

Especially afterward, like this, when he feels completely boneless and Spock is curled around him as if he never intends to leave. This , Jim thinks with a silly grin, is a Vulcan who likes to cuddle. There’s seriously no other word for it.  Spock’s hands are wandering aimlessly over his skin–and aimless is a word he would never ascribe to his first officer in any other circumstance. Maybe it’s not aimless though. It’s probably not. He’s probably calculating the time it takes Jim’s heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm or–

“You are amused…” That deep voice, sexy as hell right now. Jim’s favorite voice.  He grins and turns around so he can see Spock’s face.  His gorgeous face, still flushed with their exertions and his dark hair sticking up all over the place.  

“I love you,” Jim says, the words coming unbidden and from nowhere as far as he can tell. It’s not the first time he’s said-not by a longshot but God, does he feel it. Spock’s eyes shine, a hint of a smile there, and in his lips. His fingers curl around the back of Jim’s neck and he brings him in for a kiss.  It ignites the flame all over again and if refractory periods weren’t a thing, he’d happily beg to be fucked immediately.  Vulcans don’t have that problem, of course, so Jim’s hand move purposely down Spock’s chest, over his stomach until he finds his target. Spock’s deep growl of interest is caught between their tongues.  

Jim stays just where he is for another minute, working Spock over with practiced twists of his hand before moving his mouth away from Spock’s to kiss a path down his body.  He likes the way his first officer’s long fingers tangle in his hair, the slight pull sending frissions across his skin.  He closes his eyes as he takes Spock with his tongue and his lips, reveling in the way Spock’s other hand moves to brush his face.  They’re nowhere near the meld points, but in that moment, Jim can feel how much Spock loves him. He knows it, has known it for weeks now but it’s overwhelming like this. Like he’s drowning and all of a sudden, Jim can’t breathe. 

He pulls away with a wet gasp and fumbles to sit up without toppling off the bed. He barely makes it, and only because, somehow, even in the midst of an interrupted blowjob, Spock grips his arm to keep him steady.  Breathing harshly, Jim tries something that is meant to be an apology but it sounds more like he’s panting for air.  

“Jim?” Spock’s other hand touches down on his back, hot like a brand and Jim drops his head.  Can’t move away even though he thinks he wants to.  “Did I injure you?” 

How Spock could have injured him prone on the bed is anyone’s guess, really, but it’s always the first thing Spock seems to do–blame himself when really Jim is just a walking, sleeping, fucking disaster. An actual fucking disaster as it turns out. Who the fuck has a panic attack while sucking dick? Really, he’d like to know. 

He reaches blindly behind him, finds Spock’s shoulder and tries a fumbling squeeze. 

“No, sorry… I just…” But just what , he doesn’t know.  He can feel Spock moving to sit up, so close behind him that Jim can feel the heat radiating.  Seeping into his own skin. Without meaning to, Jim moves to meet him so that his back collides solidly with Spock’s chest.  A strong arm winds around him.  He can feel the steady pace of his first officer’s heart. It’s soothing. 

“You are not unwell,” Spock murmurs against his neck. His hand splays over Jim’s stomach like he intends to hold him in place to make sure, but it doesn’t sound like a question.  Before Jim can come up with something to say, Spock says with more concern, “You have been uneasy since I met you in the corridor with Dr. McCoy. Were you with him in a medical capacity–”

Jim shakes his head, finally gets his brain to cooperate so that he can squeeze his first’s wrist.  “No,” he interrupts, not wanting Spock to go down that road.  He’s still jumpy about Jim dying. “Sorry. Seriously,” he says as he twists around to use the leverage of his upper body to push Spock down onto the bed. 

The brown eyes appraise him, and not in a way that promises sex.  But then, Jim doesn’t usually abruptly end a perfectly good–

“Your current reactions are similar to those when you wake from a nightmare,” Spock says, still studying him carefully.  “And I am relatively certain you do not find fellating me unpleasant–” Jim nearly chokes on his spit.  Spock blinks in alarm, but Jim waves him off as he sits up. 

“No,” he breathes when he can again. “Not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all.” He swallows; wants to look away from the confusion and concern that is like a beacon where Spock is touching him still.  He’s not annoyed, at least. Which, he should be because that was seriously bad etiquette. Time to make it up to him. Jim smiles in a way that never fails him when he’s in bed, skims his fingers downward. “Just give me a minute here, and I’ll show you just how much–”

Spock grips his fingers, eyebrows arched in a way that immediately makes Jim feel guilty.  He wants to pull his hand away, but Spock soothes his knuckles with a thumb and Jim is putty.  “I would know the source of your unease. If you were not with the doctor for a medical reason, the reason must be personal. And if it originated with Dr. McCoy, and culminated in discomfort while you and I were engaged in a sexual act–”  He ignores Jim’s noise of protest. “-I must conclude that you and the doctor were discussing me.” 

Trust Spock to read his mind without even reading it. 

“Although I cannot fathom how a conversation about me would make you uneasy,” Spock goes on quietly. His eyes sharpen at whatever he sees on Jim’s face.  “I wish to understand what has caused this level of distress.” 

“It was just Bones being Bones,” Jim sighs.  

Spock does that head tilt thing that showcases his confusion in the way Jim loves most.  His chest aches with it, which is stupid.  “I do not understand your meaning,” Spock finally says. 

“Honestly, Spock–” Nevermind that it’s not. “-I don’t understand my meaning. I’m probably just tired, like you said.” He slides closer, bends his head so that his lips are just shy of his first officer’s mouth and says in the sexiest voice he’s got,  “Let me make it up to you.” He doesn’t let Spock answer, because kissing is always better than talking anyway. And it’s not like Spock has any objection to the kissing. 

At least he usually doesn’t.  

“If you require sleep,” he begins, but Jim takes their joined hands and lets Spock feel how much he wants him. Refractory periods be damned. Spock makes a low noise in his throat, and that’s all it takes.  He’s rolling them without any effort at all and Jim revels in his strength, in the lean muscles stretched taut against his body. Worrying about sharing a closet is pointless.  It doesn’t have to mean anything; not when he’s got Spock here to fuck him senseless. Twice in one night, no less. 

–

It’s not unusual for Jim to wake up in the middle of the night. It’s not a nightmare that rouses him though. He shivers and has to think about the sensation for a minute. He’s never cold in Spock’s bed.  But then, Spock is usually pressed against him.  There’s nothing there but the empty sheet.  Frowning, Jim turns to glance over at the door to the head–it’s wide open and Spock is nowhere in sight. Not that Jim can see much in the dark room, but nope, he’s still alone even when his eyes adjust. Spock never gets up in the middle of night; not on his own.  

Shivering again, and wishing he had pulled on some clothes, Jim rolls out of bed and fumbles around before finding his discarded uniform pants. They scratch unpleasantly as he zips up. 

Not bothering to look around once he’s out of the bedroom, he orders, “Computers, lights to maximum.” 

He blinks in confusion as he finds Spock sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.  Spock’s eyes snap open, and he looks disoriented, and not in a way that Jim is used to at all.  He looks like he wants to frown. 

“What are you…” Jim trails off as he realizes Spock isn’t actually sitting on the floor, but on a rectangular mat. And he’s got a candle next to him.  “Oh. Oh, sorry, shit, you were meditating. Sorry,” he says again as he backs up. “Computer, lights out.” 

The room is plunged into darkness once more. Jim’s eyes aren’t quick enough to adjust and he stubs a toe on something, and then swears harshly; not quite under his breath. 

“Computer,” Spock’s deep voice rumbles, “Lights to fifty percent.” 

Not bright enough to startle Jim’s senses this time.  

“Are you injured?” Spock asks to his back, and Jim grimaces as he turns around. 

“Stubbed my toe. It’s fine. I’m sorry I interrupted you,” he says again, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. Spock studies him for a moment and then, in one graceful movement, he’s standing.  He looks gorgeous in his dark robe, but his face is stiff and he looks tired. 

More tired than he should be in the middle of the night; Vulcans don’t even need to sleep every night. 

“What’s wrong?” Jim asks with a frown. Spock holds out his first two fingers, and Jim accepts his version of a kiss. 

“I am experiencing distress,” Spock says quietly.  He is moving his fingers softly over Jim’s, down his wrist and back up again. 

“Why?” Jim slides his other hand under the collar of Spock’s robe.  “What happened?” 

Spock hesitates, which doesn’t help the spike of worry, but then his features smooth again, his brown eyes filled with warmth. “I am in no danger,” he says quietly, and it’s still weird to have Spock read him so easily. “I wish to know the cause of your unease. I can feel it, even now. If Dr. McCoy has said something to cause you pain–”

“He hasn’t,” Jim says quickly, because that’s the last thing he needs, a pissed off Spock confronting his best friend.  “He was just worried about me. You know what he’s like.” 

Spock’s eyes narrow slightly. “What precisely is the doctor’s perturbation?” 

That certainly isn’t promising, but Jim has to say something.  “He’s not worried, really. He just thinks anyone who isn’t moving at a glacial pace with their partner is insane, and I told him you wanted me to stay here…” 

Spock’s face goes still.  Grimacing, Jim rushes to add, “It’s not you. Jocelyn. Remember, I had to convince him to agree to a date with Carol? I have to remind him he actually likes her every other day. I think he’d rather she not ship out with us, honestly. At least part of him does–” 

“Dr. McCoy’s romantic difficulties are of no interest to me,” Spock tells him flatly.  “Do you share his opinion?” 

“No, of course not.” 

“And yet, your conversation with him left you unsettled.” 

“Bones has that special talent,” Jim mutters. Before he can think of anything else to say to smooth all of this over, Spock has his face cradled between his palms.  

“You are, perhaps, concerned that he is correct?” His voice is gentle, eyes soft as he holds Jim’s gaze. “You have already admitted you worry I will grow tired of you. If McCoy has suggested-“

“He didn’t–”

Spock steps in so they are touching all over. “Then, I must surmise you require a reminder of my inability to tire of you.”

Jim can’t help but smile at that. He’s still pretty sure it’s just a matter of time before he blows all of this domestic bliss to pieces, but Spock is just so… “You’re probably going to want to take that back if I keep interrupting your meditation sessions," he says, in lieu of actually saying something useful. 

Spock caresses his jaw. “You will not,” he says seriously, and Jim feels the jangle of nerves tighten.  He licks his lips and concentrates on the feel of Spock’s palm. 

“Do you… come out here every night?” 

“I usually have no need to meditate during the night.” He says it at a murmur; words whispered against Jim’s skin. There’s something deeper there, but Jim can’t focus on it. Not with the way Spock is making him feel, and not just because he’s all kinds of aroused. He feels calmer like this, easy.  

“I was cold,” he says in a voice to match his first officer's. He puts his arms around Spock’s neck to pulls him into a kiss; to let in all the warmth and comfort. He never thought he’d mind waking up alone.

“I will endeavor to ensure you do not do so again.” 

Jim pulls back just a little to smile at him. “Without reading my mind, you’re pretty good at reading my mind. Surface thoughts,” he says before Spock can remind him. “You’re still pretty good at it.” 

“Only because our minds are uniquely suited.” The smug way he says it, well that makes Jim smile too.  He plays with the hair at the back of his first officer’s neck and feels pretty smug himself at the way Spock almost purrs at the touch.  

“Do you want to go back to your meditation?” Jim asks, only teasing. He hopes. He doesn’t need to worry though, because Spock is already tugging him back to the bedroom.  

“Negative,” he says in that growly voice that tells Jim he is about to get laid again.  Three times in one night. Yeah, this moving in thing could turn out all right, after all. 

 

Notes:

Thank you for reading. I’ve got more in the works! A long fic this time. Can’t stop with these two!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of The Vulcan Heart