If Spock were Human, he would be rolling his eyes right about now. But, as he is not, Jim needn’t worry about the overt show of emotionalism and self-inflicted disdain at the concept that Jim wouldn’t put it past him. He’s right, of course. But, it is that absolute surety that he is correct that rubs the metaphorical sodium chloride crystals into the metaphorical open abrasion. He had never quite grasped that idiom with both hands until his mother had demonstrated the impact it had upon minor maxillofacial injuries. It’d stung to have it applied, but it did increase the rate of healing a considerable degree without immediate access to a dermal regenerator. He notes, albeit absently, that his inability to calculate the exact rate of acceleration should be cause for concern, but he’s more focused on keeping them both afloat and without moderate psionic interference. It is a task that is made more difficult as Jim seems to see it fit to grumble his complaints nearest his ear and make ample use of his body as a frame with which to hoist himself around.
Spock takes a steadying breath, the effort seemingly monumental as the heart in his side skips a beat or five. He reminds himself firmly to keep Jim tucked against him, his hands locked about whatever limb or curve that Jim affords him access to as he continues to shift. Spock knows, logically, such a position he works himself into is provides more support to him, but the fluttering thoughts and curiosities that sweep across his skin are as distracting as they are perplexing. Why should Jim wonder now about the color of his flush in response to any vein of external stimuli? It is not nearly as appealing, he would think, as the pinkening of Humans. The aesthetic quality mirrors the warmth of a Terran dawn and Spock finds it fascinating that some are driven so easily to when experiencing a surge of emotion— No, he needs to focus. Spock cycles back to fortifying his mental shields, tamps down on the reflexive urge to shiver as Jim’s voice is more felt than heard as he tries to dissuade him.
“I am reasonably convinced—”
And then, Jim’s mind is working. He doesn’t have time to lodge a formal protestation to Jim’s determination, much less the way he decides the best course of action is to use his leg as a lifeline when he dips beneath the murky waves. Spock decides it is no longer relevant the moment Jim resurfaces, his ability to tread thankfully enough to keep them both afloat until the debris rises, almost catching Spock under the chin as it launches itself upward. Near as Spock can tell once the object settles is that it is a rather sizable… Chunk of a ship’s deck. Large enough to hold them both surely, which Spock doesn’t even consider until he’s certain that he’d been able to tug Jim over and closer and with him to avoid any further damage with a clipped Jim!.
Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately for Jim –, any sort of reasonable frustration is discarded in favor of concern. He knows that Jim has nicked himself, can smell the copper tang of Human blood in the water about them, and portions out enough strength to haul Jim up and onto the makeshift flotation device first. He’ll follow once Jim’s stabilized, but he’s going to have take a minute if he’s going to do it himself. In the meantime, he can grip the side and battle out the burn in his lungs. Now that he has something to hold onto that won’t insist on drowning with him, so long as Jim quits fighting him—honestly. He shakes his head, clears his vision again. Water sluices down his face, the chill of it less registered than the growing ache in his extremities.
no subject
Spock takes a steadying breath, the effort seemingly monumental as the heart in his side skips a beat or five. He reminds himself firmly to keep Jim tucked against him, his hands locked about whatever limb or curve that Jim affords him access to as he continues to shift. Spock knows, logically, such a position he works himself into is provides more support to him, but the fluttering thoughts and curiosities that sweep across his skin are as distracting as they are perplexing. Why should Jim wonder now about the color of his flush in response to any vein of external stimuli? It is not nearly as appealing, he would think, as the pinkening of Humans. The aesthetic quality mirrors the warmth of a Terran dawn and Spock finds it fascinating that some are driven so easily to when experiencing a surge of emotion— No, he needs to focus. Spock cycles back to fortifying his mental shields, tamps down on the reflexive urge to shiver as Jim’s voice is more felt than heard as he tries to dissuade him.
“I am reasonably convinced—”
And then, Jim’s mind is working. He doesn’t have time to lodge a formal protestation to Jim’s determination, much less the way he decides the best course of action is to use his leg as a lifeline when he dips beneath the murky waves. Spock decides it is no longer relevant the moment Jim resurfaces, his ability to tread thankfully enough to keep them both afloat until the debris rises, almost catching Spock under the chin as it launches itself upward. Near as Spock can tell once the object settles is that it is a rather sizable… Chunk of a ship’s deck. Large enough to hold them both surely, which Spock doesn’t even consider until he’s certain that he’d been able to tug Jim over and closer and with him to avoid any further damage with a clipped Jim!.
Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately for Jim –, any sort of reasonable frustration is discarded in favor of concern. He knows that Jim has nicked himself, can smell the copper tang of Human blood in the water about them, and portions out enough strength to haul Jim up and onto the makeshift flotation device first. He’ll follow once Jim’s stabilized, but he’s going to have take a minute if he’s going to do it himself. In the meantime, he can grip the side and battle out the burn in his lungs. Now that he has something to hold onto that won’t insist on drowning with him, so long as Jim quits fighting him—honestly. He shakes his head, clears his vision again. Water sluices down his face, the chill of it less registered than the growing ache in his extremities.
He's got it. He'll be fine.