[He knows... he remembers... but not yet. They will talk about that and they'll be alright. Because it didn't end there. They're here. They're together. They are sitting on his bed and they're married and everything is fucking wonderful... He's got a lot of pain about the memories and he never blamed Spock... well he almost never blamed Spock. He just needs to let it out.]
Jim couldn't help it when he dreamed of Spock. Honestly it was the one indulgence he forgave in himself as well as the one thing he anticipated regarding his First. Tonight Spock was at his side, playing their routine chess casting him glances that were far deeper than friendly warmongering. They'd been here before, sitting in this very room playing this very game a million times. It never got old and Jim had come to require these meetings to establish a routine amidst the class five rapids his job emulated. Spock never said anything about it but he faithfully made time for his captain and ensured they'd be undisturbed for the duration of their game. Pieces were captured and checks were made and escaped as the game wore on. Jim loved Spock as a partner because he was always a challenge and he was so willing to work with what he was given. Jim could throw anything at that vulcan and Spock would find a way to repurpose it and spit it back as a rather exacting counter-move on the board. He smirked as one of his knights was captured, happy despite the fact he was losing. Spock noticed and as he reached across the board for his rook he brushed his fingers gently against Jim's.
The captain closed his eyes and exhaled. When he looked up Spock was sitting up again, properly waiting for his next move. Yet there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes, admitting the intentional slip of his hand. Jim was far from fooled, and they engaged in several more almost-touches through the course of the game. This calmed him down, as Spock knew, and when the game was over though Jim lost he felt rejuvenated. His commander stood before him at his seat and held both hands out which Jim took. Spock pulled him from his chair and the two shared an intense gaze that evolved in seconds into a smolder and Jim knew it was an opportune moment. As he leaned in, he caught Spock closing his eyes. He nearly enjoyed the warmth of vulcan lips when his eyes opened to the darkness of his sleeping alcove.
In less than a second he was re-immeresed in reality with a sense of disappointment not unlike an anvil being dropped from a cliff. Bitter regret at not being able to restart the dream filled him. His only window into his greatest desire was not only a mere imagination of an impossible reality but it was out of his control and functioned on an erratic schedule. Sometimes he'd dream of Spock for a week and sometimes he'd go a month or more without seeing him at all. Having to settle for what little his dream gave him, Jim rolled over to attempt to milk the memory dry of love and emotional fulfillment. Or that was the plan at least until Jim felt someone in his bed with him. He jerked, bolting out from the sheets onto the floor.
His breath came in quick gasps as he watched his bed, seeing nothing stir for over a minute. Pulling the sheets back yielded nothing. But he could have sworn there was someone... he could promise he'd seen a head of black hair laying at his side... Jim's eyes widened as he realized his mistake and he quickly darted to his bathroom for a long cold shower in which he swore both to and at himself both that he was a damn idiot for living in this fantasy world and that he was never going to do this again. Once he stepped from the shower he stepped over to the mirror and stationed his hands in rigid grips against the sink as he stared at himself trying to intimidate any scrap of disloyalty out of himself.
“It's over. It was never real to begin with. You're not going to think about him any more. It's over!”
He stared into his own eyes, seeking some form of agreement or understanding, or more preferably some tangible evidence that his peaks and valleys of desire combined with crushing disappointment would come to an end. But he only began to feel silly talking to himself and staring like a buffoon. He left the bathroom and as he crossed the threshold immediately his mind wondered if he'd have another dream of Spock. Just for that he didn't bother going to bed, instead he sat up at his desk finishing his clerical duties. Perhaps Spock would be pleased with him or even a touch impressed that his captain finished this inane busywork without being strong armed. It was that thought that brought a groan from Jim. It never stopped! He didn't know how to stop it, it drove him mad! But somehow between now and shift start he'd find a way to bottle it up because this was his alone. Spock could never know.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2013-08-24 04:01 am (UTC)Jim couldn't help it when he dreamed of Spock. Honestly it was the one indulgence he forgave in himself as well as the one thing he anticipated regarding his First. Tonight Spock was at his side, playing their routine chess casting him glances that were far deeper than friendly warmongering. They'd been here before, sitting in this very room playing this very game a million times. It never got old and Jim had come to require these meetings to establish a routine amidst the class five rapids his job emulated. Spock never said anything about it but he faithfully made time for his captain and ensured they'd be undisturbed for the duration of their game. Pieces were captured and checks were made and escaped as the game wore on. Jim loved Spock as a partner because he was always a challenge and he was so willing to work with what he was given. Jim could throw anything at that vulcan and Spock would find a way to repurpose it and spit it back as a rather exacting counter-move on the board. He smirked as one of his knights was captured, happy despite the fact he was losing. Spock noticed and as he reached across the board for his rook he brushed his fingers gently against Jim's.
The captain closed his eyes and exhaled. When he looked up Spock was sitting up again, properly waiting for his next move. Yet there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes, admitting the intentional slip of his hand. Jim was far from fooled, and they engaged in several more almost-touches through the course of the game. This calmed him down, as Spock knew, and when the game was over though Jim lost he felt rejuvenated. His commander stood before him at his seat and held both hands out which Jim took. Spock pulled him from his chair and the two shared an intense gaze that evolved in seconds into a smolder and Jim knew it was an opportune moment. As he leaned in, he caught Spock closing his eyes. He nearly enjoyed the warmth of vulcan lips when his eyes opened to the darkness of his sleeping alcove.
In less than a second he was re-immeresed in reality with a sense of disappointment not unlike an anvil being dropped from a cliff. Bitter regret at not being able to restart the dream filled him. His only window into his greatest desire was not only a mere imagination of an impossible reality but it was out of his control and functioned on an erratic schedule. Sometimes he'd dream of Spock for a week and sometimes he'd go a month or more without seeing him at all. Having to settle for what little his dream gave him, Jim rolled over to attempt to milk the memory dry of love and emotional fulfillment. Or that was the plan at least until Jim felt someone in his bed with him. He jerked, bolting out from the sheets onto the floor.
His breath came in quick gasps as he watched his bed, seeing nothing stir for over a minute. Pulling the sheets back yielded nothing. But he could have sworn there was someone... he could promise he'd seen a head of black hair laying at his side... Jim's eyes widened as he realized his mistake and he quickly darted to his bathroom for a long cold shower in which he swore both to and at himself both that he was a damn idiot for living in this fantasy world and that he was never going to do this again. Once he stepped from the shower he stepped over to the mirror and stationed his hands in rigid grips against the sink as he stared at himself trying to intimidate any scrap of disloyalty out of himself.
“It's over. It was never real to begin with. You're not going to think about him any more. It's over!”
He stared into his own eyes, seeking some form of agreement or understanding, or more preferably some tangible evidence that his peaks and valleys of desire combined with crushing disappointment would come to an end. But he only began to feel silly talking to himself and staring like a buffoon. He left the bathroom and as he crossed the threshold immediately his mind wondered if he'd have another dream of Spock. Just for that he didn't bother going to bed, instead he sat up at his desk finishing his clerical duties. Perhaps Spock would be pleased with him or even a touch impressed that his captain finished this inane busywork without being strong armed. It was that thought that brought a groan from Jim. It never stopped! He didn't know how to stop it, it drove him mad! But somehow between now and shift start he'd find a way to bottle it up because this was his alone. Spock could never know.