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Author's Chapter Notes:
A bit of K/S fluff, written for the KiScon 2017 ConZine "Amok Time at 50"
"Friendship is Magic," My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic

A soldier's life is often long hours of boredom interrupted by moments of intense danger. James T. Kirk, the commanding officer of the USS Enterprise, is bored. It's not that he doesn't enjoy the dangers and challenges of command. He does. But this evening is different. He's bored and restless. And when he's bored he's liable to get into mischief. It's a fact the thirty-something adult knows well, yet is not always able to control. A point that worries the man, and puts a grin on Jimmy's face. It's this grin that tosses a Nerf basketball across the room and watches it fall obediently through the hoop he taped to the bulkhead.


The ball bounced back to him, and this time he threw the ball overhand. It bounced off the wall, circled the rim and fell through the hoop.

"One hundred! A miracle side shot off the boards! The crowd goes wild!"

Dressed in his Starfleet issue boxer briefs and black and gold Iowa Hawkeyes jersey, Captain Kirk jumped barefooted off his bed. The hopelessly tangled blankets follow him and pool around his ankles. The pillows smashed against the shelves of his headboard gave up their identity as pillows an hour ago. Kirk was not kind to pillows. The quartermaster had to keep extras in ship's stores. Explaining this to Command always required a bit of creativity. It's not as if he could say no to the Captain.

Kirk fell back on his bed and began bouncing the ball off the opposite wall. How many times could he bounce while he recited...what? The Captain's Oath? "Space." Thump. "The final frontier." Thump. "These are the voyages," Thump. Forget it. Kirk sighed in disgust. Jimmy was winning. Frustrated, he opted for counting.

"One thousand one." Thump.

"One thousand two." Thump.

"One thousand three." Thump.

He was a grown man, an officer, a leader and all that other crap that put ribbons on his chest and expectant smiles on women's faces. And to think he gave up meaningless sex with strangers and binge drinking for all this.

"One thousand four." Thump.

A crippled Enterprise is headed back to Earth after one of those moments of intense danger, killed several of his crew and damaged the transporters beyond Scotty's ability to repair. Kirk offered to stop at any number of Starbases between the middle-of-nowhere, where they were now and the Sol System. No, his superiors responded. Followed by absolutely not and an additional that's a direct order Captain Kirk. The dangers of no transporters required a refit, and back home they go.

He suspected he was due for another scolding. For what, he didn't know. They ought to thank him for failing to uncover yet another megalomaniac bent on galaxy-wide destruction. They ought to give him a parade. The galaxy was still at peace! Thank you Oh, Captain James T. Kirk! But that was just Jimmy talking and he knew it. He threw the ball overhand. It impacted the wall and bounced high. He'd come to expect that he could bend the galaxy to his will or whim. The ball yielded to the inevitable and fell through the hoop.

His department heads scheduled three weeks of training and drills, with all that dreary annual training in between. Two full out Red Alert emergency drills planned including mock injuries and Sick Bay triage. In between the drills and training they'd enjoy downtime. And he knew—he could picture it— Spock and McCoy disappearing into their labs first chance they got. Unfortunately for Jimmy, it wasn't okay for him to intrude on his crew's leisure time. It wasn't that they didn't admire and respect him, it wasn't traditional for senior officers to fraternize. Blurred lines of command, authority, and all that shit.

Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Day one.

Bored with bouncing the ball, Kirk began another drive toward the Hawkeyes' end of the court. The perfectly timed shot won Jimmy a standing ovation. At the exact moment Kirk awarded himself a double pump and a victory lap around his quarters, his first officer entered his cabin. Kirk paused in mid throw when his door opened. The light from the corridor illuminated the familiar form of his first officer and friend. The Nerf ball dropped from his fingers as the two men studied each other. Spock slowly appraised Jim and he returned the stare. Two can play at this game. Spock raised an eyebrow and allowed the door to close behind him. Never let it be said he was gawking. He didn't intend to stare, but it's the compact athleticism of Kirk's body that distracts his normally perfect focus. Spock swallowed hard.

While the captain watched him understanding dawned. Jim Kirk was the diametric opposite of Nyota Uhura and he didn't understand the force of his attraction to this human. If he applied logic to the puzzle, it was the man's physicality. It was the energy coiled in the muscles. The bravado, which lay not in arrogance but intelligence and bedrock self-confidence. The captain was a fascinating man of deeply held convictions and great passion. Nyota was many things, but she was not the coiled intellect poised to spring from physiological properties that bordered on hedonism. She possessed none of the boyish playfulness or the powerful sexuality.

His attraction to Jim Kirk had begun the moment he attempted to argue Spock down over the Kobayashi Maru test. Shocked that the human thought he could get away with cheating, Spock also realized Kirk had no intention of denying he cheated. The test was unfair, he fixed it and that was that. A test Spock spent months writing. On one unusually hot San Francisco summer afternoon Jim Kirk hacked his program, tore the coding to pieces and tried to stare him down in front of in the entire student body. Nothing in his life had been the same since that day. Spock shook off his momentary lapse when the captain spoke, apparently recovered from his embarrassment at being caught acting like a kid.

"You're just in time, Spock! The Huskers are up by two. They think they've got the win. But Iowa's still got a few tricks up their sleeve. Seconds on the clock, Kirk is pulled off the bench. He's got the ball! His team follows him down the court! A Husker power forward tries to stop him, but he's no match for Kirk! He jumps! Lobs the ball toward the rim. The fans are on their feet! Kirk, Kirk, Kirk. The ball sails over the heads of the defense. The clock ticks down. Seconds to go. No more timeouts! It hits the rim, spins, and ricochets off the board into the basket! It's the Hawkeyes for the win!"

"Surely, excellent news, Captain." Spock crossed his arms over his chest and raised both eyebrows. "Captain, I wonder if you're aware of Vulcan's highly sensitive hearing?"

"Sure, Spock. I learned that from my meld with our Mister Spock. Well, I uh, learned a lot of things that day about Vulcans."

"Indeed." Spock watched Kirk turn away, his eyes everywhere but on him. He hadn't failed to notice the rush of color to the human's cheeks.

Kirk slipped on a pair of loose pants, wadded up the blankets and tossed them in a pile on his bed. "What's the hurry? You've got three weeks to finish that report. Doesn't that give you a headache?"

"To what do you refer, Captain?" Spock asked, frowning and trying in vain to understand how the sentences shared meaning.

"That eyebrow thing you do. I think it'd give me a headache."

Spock's eyes hardened. Two fingertips applied to his forehead revealed furrows and a pair of dark brows hidden under his hair. Spock released the frown and forced his face back to neutral.

"An unfortunate trait passed to me from my Mother."

Kirk wasn't buying any of it. "Bullshit. It's your concession to emotion, and you wouldn't give it up for anything. See, I get you."

"A fact which brings me pleasure."

That comment brought Kirk's head up the game and boredom forgotten. Sometimes when Spock changed from a professional first officer and commander to Spock, his friend it caught Jim by surprise. The embarrassment he felt at Spock catching him acting like a kid dissipated. He loved their banter. He loved that he understood the Vulcan and that Spock knew it. Their friendship, which began on rough ground had grown exponentially since he opened his eyes in that hospital bed.

Spock stayed by his side, while McCoy checked on him every five minutes and the med techs hovered. Without the pressures of rank and duty, they found time to relax with each other and let down a barrier or two. When he closed his eyes at night, Spock was there. When he opened them in the morning, Spock was there ready to help him with his breakfast tray.
Kirk had few memories of the day he entered the radiation-drenched compartment to fix the damage of Khan's meddling. Spock wouldn't talk about, and McCoy wasn't telling. Hacking into the Enterprise's computer system from his hospital bed had been easy. What softened his heart and if could admit it fundamentally changed him was the exchange with Spock as he died, and a weeping Spock murmuring, 'Because you are my friend...'

"Want a drink, Spock?"

"Thank you, Captain. Alcohol will allow me to recover from what I just witnessed." With his eyes on the bed, Spock relented to his innate fastidiousness and remade Kirk's bed. The pillows returned to their natural shape, and the sheet and blanket stretched taut over the thin mattress. The scotch went down perfectly.

Shifting his eyes from Spock to the neatly made up bunk Kirk refilled the Vulcan's glass. Accustomed to Spock's admirable although often long, silences, Kirk stayed quiet. The scotch represented the last of his stash, and when it was empty, there would be no more until they got to Earth. There was no one he'd rather empty the bottle with than his first officer. Kirk honored Spock's silence by managing—barely—to keep still and quiet. As he watched Spock relax, Kirk's natural curiosity got the better of him and he managed an apology.

"Sorry. I interrupted your work. Just bored."

"Do not concern yourself, Jim. Humans indulge in play to ease tension. What is the expression, 'blow off steam?' And I know you well enough to understand your boredom."

Kirk tipped his glass and let the scotch slide down his throat. Bored. Check. Cranky. Check. Horny as a...

"Jim, a personal question? At present, you have no one with whom you enjoy sexual congress?"

And now they were talking about sex.

"Is that a question?"

Spock smiled briefly then returned his attention to the label on the amber colored bottle. "It is an impertinent question to which I already know the answer."

"Kinda pathetic, I guess. You have Uhura, and I have Nerf basketball."

"An interesting analogy, Jim. However, I do not have Uhura. In any allegorical, or literal sense."

"I'm sorry..."

"There's nothing to apologize for. It is nothing that you did, or possess the ability to change."

Jim pulled up a memory from his mind-meld with Ambassador Spock. "Is it because of the whole Pon Farr, Plaktow thing?"

Spock's head swiveled on his shoulders. He looked as close to shocked as Jim had ever seen him. The movement dislodged a few drops of scotch and deposited them on Spock's thigh. Spock set his glass down with a clatter and moved to his feet without the natural grace Jim usually associated with his first officer. In the act of handing Spock a napkin, he noticed the bulge tenting the front of his first officer's pants.
And that was something he hadn't noticed about Spock. Because...wow, that was a respectable...Look away, you idiot.

While Spock brushed away the alcohol from his pants, Kirk pretended not to notice. And he hoped to God Spock did the same. Kirk took another sip and thought about it. What did it matter? It was a guy thing. A sometimes annoying guy thing, but it was a guy thing all the same. So, that's it. No big deal.
Spock adjusted himself.

The scotch inexplicably reverted to peat in his mouth. Kirk tried to swallow, but his mouth wouldn't work. While he pondered the effect of his first officer being just another guy he effectively looked more like a gaping fish. A gasping fish suddenly pulled from his depth. From a secret place where he kept certain things hidden. Very well hidden.

"Jim? Are you unwell?" Spock turned those fathomless brown eyes on him, and the air in the room vanished. The bulkheads closed in, and the gloom turned to intimate shadows of liaisons and smoky bars. Kirk's glass slipped from his hand. Spock caught the glass while Kirk backpedaled across the bed. Damn thankful, he pulled on some pants and worried that if his first officer got any closer certain things that ought to remain hidden would reveal themselves and that wouldn't do. He was the captain, after all, and there were rules about fraternization and complications about blurring the line of chain of command.
There was also the small factor, hardly worth mentioning, except, his first officer was a man, a male of the species, two species actually. And well he'd never done that with any species of the male variety.

"So…Spock." Kirk crossed his legs and squeezed his thigh muscles. "This pon farr thing doesn't apply to you then?" Seek out new life and new civilizations. "With Uhura, and everything?" To boldly go where no one—James Kirk—has gone before.

"Jim," Spock said in a tone one might reserve for an impatient child or a nosy human. "The words...those words, are not for outsiders. They are of a personal nature."

"I get that Spock. Most of what Ambassador Spock shared with me was personal. The word grieving didn't even begin to apply. He was shattered. His culture, home planet, virtually all his people. your mother. He needed to pass information to me quickly, but in doing so what I received was more than I could process. When he released me, I fell. I don't even know what I landed on. If it hadn't been there, I'd have fallen to the ground, weeping like a child. He was a man of great passion, Spock. He loved and was loved in return. His captain and three women. I remember their names. Zarabeth, and Leila and T'Pring."

"T'Pring was his intended." Spock extended two fingers and lifted Jim's chin. "If those memories cause you discomfort? I am not a healer, but I could ease their impact."

"No...uh, it's okay." Kirk's back thumped against the bulkhead. "They're none of my business. His thoughts. His emotions. Spock, they felt like a gift."

Spock let his hand fall to the blanket. Kirk rushed on words tumbling over each other. "If that's part of the Vulcan culture then you must have an intended. Right?" Where the hell had that come from?
"If you mean that my parents arranged a match for me as a child, then no, I have no intended. In any case, she would have died with Vulcan."

"But, Vulcans are expected to get married?" Kirk pressed. "Vulcan babies? Pon Farr? Rebuild the population?"

"Jim," he stated patiently as if waiting for Kirk's attention. "A Vulcan male does not require a wife for procreation."

The human's mouth opened in a silent oh. Blood rushed out of his brain taking Jimmy and Captain Kirk with it in a wave of something that sent his body rolling toward the edge of the bed only to find his way blocked.

"Let me up."

"If that is what you wish."

Silver bells chimed in his head. Then over the boom of drums, a voice. First in Vulcan, then in Standard. Kirk spun searching for the voice, but there was only Spock watching him from his bed. It was inside his head.

The ancient drives are strong.

"I think you'd better leave."

"You are under duress, Jim. I cannot leave you in such a state. Allow me to assist."

Kirk shied away from the hand that reached for him.

Laughter rose in a throat closed by emotions he could not control. "I've been called many things. Jim, Jimmy, James, son of a bitch more times than I can count. But no one says my name the way you do."

Spock rose from the bed, but kept his distance. "I perceive something within you seeks the light. Your heart is beating too quickly and your face is flushed. Your arousal calls me. I did not come here...If I am correct...Allow me to touch you..."

They watched each other from the space of a few feet. Kirk mouthed a silent, "Spock" and the Vulcan closed his eyes. When Spock of Vulcan opened his arms, his captain stepped into his embrace. Jim reacted to the heat, but his mind began to signal danger. Adrenalin shot through him as the human instinct for fight or flight roused him to action. This loss of self took Kirk by surprise and it terrified him.

"L-let me go. It's too much." Jim tried to straight-arm his way out of the embrace, but Spock allowed him only enough movement to raise his head. Warmth and the caress of nimble fingers forced a breath from Kirk's body. When had he stopped breathing? How did his heart now beat with the rhythm of the Vulcan? His rational mind fought against the uncontrollable passions ignited by Spock's touch.

"So I've been told. Surely it is better if we share this intensity than continuing to deny it?"

"I've never. Any of this. I can't lose control."

"Jim. Your answers are here." Spock turned his lips to the cool cheek. With Spock's assistance, Jim's clenched fists became arms around his waist. "Jim, it is not a loss, it is a joining. Your contact with the Ambassador was abrupt and threatening."

Kirk's trembling ebbed, his breathing evened and his hands reached up to touch the lines of the familiar face. Kirk pulled himself straight. Words came unbidden to his lips. "Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched... What is going on? I know those words. I know what they mean."

"Yes. Jim. Always. Parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."

"How did you know? I'm not..."

"Apparently, you are. Does it matter? Please, Jim. Give me your hand."

This time he didn't shy away. How had he missed this? He knew exactly how. While he distracted himself with learning to be a commanding officer and better than his father, he fell in love with his Vulcan first officer.

The chaste pairing of fingers lasted until Kirk's other hand found its way to Spock's neck. Kirk pulled and he relented. Their mouths clashed. Dominance fight with submission and logic lost the battle of what if's and should nots until they stood panting and sharing the heated air between them. The fire of Jim Kirk ignited his blood and sent him blindly reaching for the human, fingers spread, hands possessing.

They broke the kiss long enough for Spock to lift the jersey away. Then he lost his uniform shirt with a quick tug and they fell to the bed.

"Spock. This...this is magic."

Spock surprised himself by pointing out the concept of magic was illogical and a trick of the eye. That the driving need to stay close to Jim was little more than the perfectly natural and effective combination of progesterone, oxytocin, and vasopressin hormones. There was more, but the effect of Jim's teeth on his pectoral muscle followed the wet pressure of his tongue across his nipple, causing him to forget. Arching up into the human's mouth, Spock conceded to the analogy.

"Yes, Jim."

My Little Pony™: The Magic of Friendship. Honesty, Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Loyalty, and Magic
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