[ Trek Crew Catch-All ] And you may ask yourself

[finalfrontiersman]

Who: Jim Kirk, Spock, Tendi, Bones & friends.
Where: The Trek house!
What: Catch-all for the month's nonsense.
Content Warnings: Profanity. Potential for discussions of survivor's guilt and Gnosia-related trauma. Old man yaoi.




See below for closed starters! This post will serve as a catch-all for the Trek cast~

Contact for plotting:

James "Jim" Tiberius Kirk | trickster88, PM, Discord by Request/Game Discord

S'chn T'gai Spock | askefise, Game Discord

D'Vana Tendi | posolutely, Game Discord

Leonard "Bones" McCoy | PM, Game Discord, Discord: chatnoir

Comments

rotating this in my head like terran fowl in a convection oven

[ashaya]

[ Here's the thing: Spock understands how to be discreet.

As much as he has been peripherally aware of Jim's project, he had honored Jim's need for such an unveiling. It had meant not asking Jim about what he had brought back with him at times or treading into the yard when Jim was working, but Spock had adhered to his wishes. Illogical as it may have been, he knew that for Humans the act of gifting and the concept of "surprises" satisfied a particular emotional "itch," as they might have called it. The natural chemicals produced, the pleasure of being able to "hide" something of benefit from the other until such a time that they were finished — Jim had explained it was an act of affection, a recognition. A sort of kindness.

And so, Spock did not seek out the answers until given permission. He recalls his mother had attempted such "surprises" when he was young, but he had not yet learned why it is was she took joy in it. Now that he was older, he told himself he must now ignore the clues, overlook the signals. He had cordoned off the bond where it was any such knowledge touched, allowed Jim to run his hand along it, but.

I will be there shortly.

And so he is, taking with him a nicely brewed cup of coffee out into the side yard. What he sees is not entirely what he expected, but he pauses at the lip of the back porch. Pauses, the dark of his eyes touching upon each minute detail that makes up the environs Jim's painstakingly constructed. He had known about the cats, Jim, but it was — there's a tentative little wave of something that rings of disbelief, wine glasses traced about with the pad of a thumb. As it goes, affection laps from beneath. Affection and curiosity, a sort of prevailing admiration for the workmanship that Jim's exercised. A surging sort of —

Very carefully, he steps down off the porch. His eyes stay fixed upon the structure that Jim's built, voice very soft when it is he reaches Jim's side. ]

Jim, [ he says, his name containing any manner of meaning as he settles his gaze upon him. It is not a question, but a statement. A recognition. ]

;3

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Jim doesn't know what theories Spock may have postulated about his behavior - he resolutely hasn't teased him about it, for fear of revealing his hand earlier than he'd meant to. Keeping a secret from a Vulcan was harder than it looked, and that meant being as tight-lipped as possible. Even so, Jim had managed to smuggle in the more obvious things - the catnip plants Bones had brought from the market, the cat toys, secreted in a shapeless duffle bag like he was moving drugs. Spock was right about one thing - all of it gave Jim a certain amount of satisfaction.

And it was all for this - the moment when Spock finally got to lay eyes on the project, painted a deep, forest green so as to be complementary to the house siding. Jim's positively beaming, hands on his hips, surveying his work with Spock's mental tenor offering a new lens. ]

You like it? [ A rhetorical question, Jim's side of the bond bursting with a pleased feeling he's unable to contain, like so many others. Jim accepts the mug with one hand, eyebrows waggling playfully. His fingers brush Spock's hand, a nonverbal thank you passing between them. ] Go on, check it out. You've got some visitors already, I think they dig it.

[ It's true - Accretion is drinking from a water fountain, while Jeffries scratches at a scratchpad, working his nails. T'khasi and T'khut have already claimed one of the little bedding alcoves, curled up next to each other. Jim's stolen Spock's notebook, which lies on a little shelf off to the side; a jar of treats and space for other things they may want to keep out here (but out of reach of the cats) also taking up residence.

Did Jim spend the morning down at the docks, luring some of the cats up to the house with food? Maybe. Now that they know it's here, Jim's sure they'll be back and probably spreading the good word. ]

[ashaya]

[ It is not to say he understands yet or full, but his mother had too been so adamant about granting items to him upon Human celebratory occasions. He did not see the purpose in surprises and often found that most couched the concept in cruelty, but Jim and his mother both - perhaps he might see more the appeal now, to how it is Jim's emotions sizzle across the bond as though the tail of Roman Candles. Spock holds the sensation of it within his palms as much as he holds the taste of it within his mouth, citrus sweet and sticky. If Spock makes it a known that he basks alongside the source of Jim's delight with a residual rumble of his own? Well, perhaps it is best expressed with the way his gaze seems altogether uncertain still of where to land.

There is much to take in, much left to study — but, Jim's expression is what draws him back in. Spock looses a ripple of some banked affection, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling in ways that seem only notable to Jim. ]

A fine piece of craftsmanship, [ he says, in response to the rhetorical question. He knows it to be one, but still it must be said. The effort that Jim placed in is remarkable, though it does not surprise him that he is too talented in this domain. Jim had always been one to take to construction without issue, hand deft and experienced in ways that extended beyond machines and circuitry. Spock feels the touch of his hand, feels the responding thank you for his coffee, and Spock dips his chin in recognition.

But, there is a pause that rises. Slight, as if the curiosity and disbelief has not yet passed. He pieces over his words, looks for the phrases he wishes to say, but perhaps it is simpler after all than he gives it credit to locate it, inadequate as it seems. His eyes flit back once to the structure, the words low and pitched for Jim's ear. ] Thank you, Jim.

[ It is another beat, but then Spock is extending the first two fingers of his right hand, his left settling at the small of his own back. ] Would you care to accompany me?

[ Surely, Jim should enjoy his spoils too. ]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ The ability to feel how Spock appreciates his efforts is a new sensation, and one Jim is totally down to accept, the way Spock brushes against the golden link, like a dapple of sunshine hitting at just the right angle. So far, the bond has provided an interesting layer to their conversations; sure, sometimes Jim gets a little lost in their collective head, but he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it. ]

Well, thank you. You flatter my carpentry skills. [ It was well-constructed (mostly); but the ugly corner where he'd stripped a screw (or...two...) was hidden by a plant. What? It couldn't be perfect. He was definitely trying his best though, and it paid off. Jim's answering grin just continues to expand as Spock offers him a verbal thanks - as if the glowing feeling Jim can sense expanding against the boundary of the bond isn't thanks enough.

He nods, reaching out to complete the ozh'esta, callused fingers brushing Spock's, a gentle spark that lights between them. I'd love to. ]

After you, Mr. Spock.

[ With a smile and a wink, Jim nudges open the door to the enclosure with his foot - the cats don't seem bothered, continuing on with their various activities. They're pretty brave little things anyway, but Jim has also been harassing them (plying them with treats) all morning, so while they aren't as affectionate with him as they are with Spock, they've apparently decided he's not much of a threat. ]

There's a door for them, too. [ Jim points to the corner, showing off a little cat door that's been left latched open. They can close it if they need to, but for now the cats can come and go freely. ] What do you think, guys? I think they like it.

[ The bonded pair snoozing in the corner definitely seem to have embraced moving in. ]

[ashaya]

[ A relief, to be sure. For all that Spock had accepted that Jim Kirk was set apart from the many, he had still found it illogically difficult to grasp that such a bond should be wanted by any. Any, he'd once thought, with him. Neither Human enough for Humans nor Vulcan enough for Vulcans, it had been more than likely his father's own standing that gave him the basic betrothal bond to begin. When it was severed, Spock had no such illusions that another of its kind was upon the metaphorical horizon.

Strangely, he'd found himself most unwilling to ever think upon it. That is, of course, until - ]

Vulcans do not flatter, [ he says, syllables rounded in the mouth and warm off the fingertips. He'd known from the beginning that such an adjustment to an increase in sensory stimulation would be strange, but not unpleasant. Despite his attempts to inform Jim of what he might expect, there was perhaps no manner with which to describe the reality of first contact. Perhaps there was no means with which to describe it for either of them, if Spock himself had found himself reeling too.

But, several days in and practice abounds, it was easier to manage now. Easier, but no less distracting. For all that Spock may have suspected that he would grow more accustomed, it thus had proven more the opposite. More the opposite, in that what he might expect would be the subtle pause that Jim could register, the steadying of the heart that thrummed along in his chest. No matter how quickly it fluttered and flurried, it would pair itself to Jim's in the downbeats. It would complement his, no matter their species - their inevitable difference.

Still, he follows Jim's insistence with the slight dip of his chin. An agreement, as much as it is an acknowledgement. ]

Captain, [ he hums, stepping in through the opened door and taking in the space Jim's built for the cats, for him. For them both, as Spock notes the flora contained within - all selected with consideration to what was preferable, nontoxic. Spock follows Jim's indications, gesticulations. He'd known that Spock had fed them, yes, but to have such knowledge confirmed alongside the presence of the notebook he'd believed to have gone missing upon another glance - Spock chastises himself, quelling the errant twist of something resembling both the vulnerable tendril of pleasure and the complicated inlay of shame.

One cat up upon the in-built ramps winds down closer to Spock's idle hand. Accretion is known for her innate sense of curiosity, her ability to adjust to novel environments. That she murrs softly within the dark of her throat is more a courtesy than a question. Spock, even so, obligingly lifts his hand to allow her to rub her forehead against his palm. If Jim concentrates, he may get the remote sensation of something shapeless and warm - languid, as Spock strokes along the sleek of her back. An emotion, simple and unburdened by the understanding of men. Happiness. ]

I believe your assessment to be accurate, [ Spock says, eyes sliding back to Jim. There is something gentled at the corners of his lips, softened at the line of his shoulders. He lifts his palm, fingers curling just so in invitation to greet her too. ]

[finalfrontiersman]

[ Jim was having exactly none of that. How could anyone not want Spock? It seemed as much an impossibility to him as it did to Spock, albeit on opposite ends of the spectrum. To Jim, he was just...himself. As frustrated as Jim had the capacity to be, on occasion, he never truly wished Spock was different. Wished that he understood, perhaps, but for Spock to change? He wouldn't be him anymore - and he is enough. Far more than Jim could have hoped to be trusted with, truth be told. ]

Vulcans, sure, maybe not. [ Jim grins, eyebrows rising teasingly - the depth of his affection rising up like a tide, thick sea foam that oozes against the bond, warm and frothy. ] But my Vulcan does.

[ Jim, for his part, is simply projecting satisfaction as Spock takes in the details. There's more he'll find, details Jim has considered - the way the enclosure connects to a kitchen window, which they could open if they so chose, to allow cats into or out of the house. Jim Kirk didn't do anything by half-measures, and given that it had taken him the better part of a month to design and build, it's clear he's put a lot of intention into it.

He feels the complicated emotion that Spock doesn't fully allow to surface, and the tenor of his own mind softens naturally in response. Jim's starting to be able to tell the difference between things he should let lie and things he shouldn't - but what he offers Spock next, he would have offered regardless. His fingers slide up to the first knuckle of Spock's forefinger, gently trailing along the digit. You've had a difficult month. I wanted to do something special for you...you deserve it.

It stands to reason that Spock's touch telepathy works for all sentient beings, but Jim's never experienced that before. Faint though it may be to him, he feels the impression of Accretion's mind through the bond, the pure, distilled emotion, her approval. Whether or not it's something Spock simply cordons off from him, normally, or whether it's just that this is the first time Jim's paid close enough attention, his surprise is swiftly overcome by wonder, dawning over him the same way it does anytime they discover something new. The feeling that sent them both chasing stars in the first place. ]

Wow. [ Jim breathes, joy lighting up his own expression. He follows Spock's lead, offering his hand for Accretion to sniff. She daintily scents him, then dips her head, just enough to indicate her acceptance. Jim's fingers find her ears, rubbing over one, then the other. ]