Title: Along Comes a Stranger (11/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: AU. Jim’s life in Riverside is uncomplicated until two men, both equally mysterious and compelling, arrive in town, bringing with them the promise of change.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Part Eleven

“You aren’t staying for breakfast?” Turning from the stove to stare at her only son, Winona looks mildly upset at this sudden change of plans.

It’s too late to hide the duffle bag over his shoulder, so Jim grimaces and explains poorly, “I’m not hungry. I thought—I’d carry my things back to my place before I head over to the garage.”

Winona sets the spatula in her hand aside and lowers the heat of the stove eye cooking the scrambled eggs. Then she gives Jim her full attention. “You’re leaving?”

He nods. “I really didn’t mean to stay here so long, Mom.” Jim tries to smile but the smile vanishes before it can barely form. “It’s kind of dumb to pay rent and not live in my apartment, anyway.” He shrugs, as if his departure is no big deal and not at all an attempt to run from Spock and McCoy (who must be asleep upstairs, though Jim hadn’t the heart to confirm his suspicions). “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“This will always be a home for you, Jim.”

Until time distances Kirk from the memory of last night, being here will be too painful to bear. He knows it—and his mother knows it, too.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” asks the woman, tucking a loose strand of silvery blonde hair behind her ear.

He does not answer. Instead, Jim hurries around the opposite side of the table and strides to the kitchen door. “Sorry, I gotta go. Bye, Mom.”

She calls after Jim, “Tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is Sunday; it’s Kirk tradition to share lunch on Sunday. Mr. Spock is not likely to leave the farm that day and will eat at their table, as he has in the past. If he does leave, however, then Jim can only imagine that Spock will go to McCoy. Kirk finds both scenarios unpleasant to contemplate.

“Probably not,” he answers, shutting the door behind him. Pushing down guilt, Jim secures the bag of clothes and personal items to the back of his bike and flies toward town as fast as possible.

Will Spock or McCoy even notice his absence?

No, they will be too busy with each other to care.

His only consolation is the look on his mother’s face as he scurried out the house. If Jim’s interpretation is correct, Bones and Spock will have big helpings of breakfast, with disapproval served as a surprise side dish. Winona Kirk knows how to make an erring child feel chastened without saying a word; he also remembers the way she treated the cheerleader (whom he had a crush on, once upon a time) who stood him up on two consecutive dates in his sophomore year of high school. Later, the girl went to his mother’s diner with a group of friends and that was the last time she ever dared show her face there. Gary had said Winona didn’t do anything spiteful, but he told Jim: “The fire in your mother’s eyes could have boiled an egg. By the time Winona was done serving that cheerleader and her friends, the girl was rightly ashamed of herself.”

If Jim were feeling spiteful, he would want to be there when his mother takes Spock and McCoy down a peg or two. But he can’t. He simply can’t see them at all.

Jose finds Jim working diligently quite by accident.

A hand lands on Kirk’s shoulder, shocking the mechanic out of his workaholic stupor and causing him to spin around with a pipe wrench in hand and a mighty cry issuing forth from his mouth. Jose dodges out of the way, preventing Jim from braining him, and then smacks Jim on the back of the head when Jim is sufficiently calm again.

“What the hell are you doing!” gasps the garage owner.

The pipe wrench hangs from Jim’s slackened fingers, and Jim looks sheepishly at Jose. “You scared me,” he says.

“Well, you almost killed me!”

“Sorry.”

Jose frowns and folds his arms. After he studies Jim’s oil-stained shirt and jeans, he states (like Jim might not know),”It’s Sunday.”

Kirk turns back to the open hood of a car under which he had been working and fiddles with the engine some more. When Jose determinedly reaches over and plucks the tool from Jim’s hand, Jim sighs and braces himself against the car.

“I’m busy.”

“It’s Sunday,” repeats Jim’s boss.

“Then why are you here?” he retorts with a knowing glare.

Jose rolls his eyes. “‘Cause I live behind the garage, chico—and I own it. You should be at your mother’s house.”

“Not this time,” mutters Kirk as he stalks away to wipe his grease-blackened hands on a rag.

Surprisingly Jose does not push him for more information. The guy only says “I see” like he does understand (but how could he possibly?) and adds afterward, “I could use some help on the job that came in Friday.”

Jim had worked a half-day on Friday so that he could take Pavel and Sasha out for a meal. He cuts his thoughts off there, not wanting to remember a path which leads to what happened at the end of that night. Following Jose to the other side of the garage, Jim watches the man lift the sheet covering the mysterious new “job” and whistles at the sight of the car.

A ’65 Corvette Sting Ray.

Hell yes. He turns to Jose and growls, “How could you hide this from me?”

Jose raises his hands in a gesture of hey, never. “I was going to tell you about her on Monday.”

For a moment, they appreciate the antique Corvette as automobile-lovers. Then Jim circles around the car once, taking a visual survey of what needs fixing on the outside—not much, actually, because it looks like it has barely been used; but the red paint is chipped by age and will need to be stripped. Jose pops the hood with a flourish, and they crowd together to take a look. Jim instantly recognizes the real problem with the car.

It hasn’t been used often enough. People don’t realize the kind of corrosion that can take place when a vehicle sits in a yard too long. Even tires are liable to rot. This engine, though—this engine needs some careful cleaning and a few key replacements—but hopefully not a new engine because Jim doesn’t want to replace the original parts unless necessary—before it can be salvaged.

“Who brought it in?”

“Oh that guy—you know, the one staying out at your farm.”

Jim takes a few seconds to draw in a slow breath and exhale. “Mr. Spock.”

Jose pokes his fingers at a loose hose and lifts it up to see the engine parts beneath it. “That’d be the one,” he says absently. “Said he purchased it from a colleague. We’re to have it ready ASAP.” Jose adds, animated, “She’s beautiful now but she’ll be gorgeous when we’re done!” The man sounds breathless with anticipation. His lust for antique cars could rival Jim’s.

Jim wants to know, “What’s the budget?”

“Ah, we come to the interesting part.” Jose grins at the bright-eyed man. “Your friend said expenses don’t matter. He’s got dinero, yeah?”

“I guess he does.” Jim stares at the car for a long time. “How did Spock get his hands on this?”

“If I knew the answer to that,” Jose remarks, “I’d probably get drunk off my ass because I didn’t think of it first.”

Spock may be one of the root causes of Jim’s unhappiness today but Jim certainly isn’t stupid enough to pass up a chance like this because of hurt feelings. He runs a hand over the side of the Corvette, almost seeing the moment he drives her out of the parking lot, new coat of red paint aglow and a finely tuned, powerful engine roaring like sweet music.

Somewhere outside of the daydream, Jose is saying, “I know that look, Jim. Remember, this isn’t your car.”

Jim snorts. “Maybe not, but Spock owes me at least one test drive.”

Jose simply shakes his head and motions for Jim to go find the nearest toolbox. Jim winds up spending his Sunday not at the farmhouse per usual, but blissfully lost to the depths of joy nonetheless.

It’s truly strange, he decides late that night as he swings his bike out of the garage parking lot and onto the main road, that Spock can be party to both ruining and restoring Jim’s mood.

Kirk is officially avoiding social calls during the following week and he hangs out in his apartment when he isn’t at work. He doesn’t go to The Diner to say hi to Sulu or stop by the Star Motel to give Sasha the jump rope he bought on a whim for her while out gathering supplies. The only true connection he makes is with the Corvette, but the car is at the stage where she refuses to cooperate as he tries to coax her to purr. It’s not until Jim Kirk runs into Nyota Uhura outside a grocery store that he remembers his absence is likely to be noticed by the people who aren’t Spock or McCoy.

Nyota cuts short Jim’s hasty retreat across the parking lot by running him down with a shopping cart. Several townspeople stop to stare and, without a doubt, to eavesdrop on this unusual spectacle. Jim rubs his twinging back muscles and moans at the abuse dealt to him.

Nyota says, “Get up. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“Seriously, Uhura—with the buggy?”

She huffs. “You were getting away.”

Jim begins to limp in the direction of his motorcycle. Nyota immediately grabs the back of his jacket and hauls him toward the grocery store. “You were going in,” she says by way of explanation, “and I need to pick up a few things.”

A few things turn out to be a long list written in Uhura’s neat handwriting. Jim is consigned into grocery-shopping duty and delegated the task of pushing the shopping cart. (At least it isn’t the cart that hit him, he thinks, grimly amused.) Since the only way he can reclaim his pride is by being an annoying shopping partner, Jim plucks random items off the shelves and drops them into the cart. Nyota makes him stop walking once and a while to frown down at the cart’s contents and berate him for picking up things like easy cheese canisters and a jar of pig’s feet. He only grins and leans on the cart, saying, “C’mon, who doesn’t eat pig’s feet?”

Eventually Nyota corners Jim in the dairy section—after preventing his joyful skid along the ice cream aisle—and demands to know why he has become a hermit.

Jim protests, “I’m not a hermit!”

“I haven’t seen you all week.”

He can’t help but grin a little. “So you miss me.”

“If I don’t see you, I can’t tell you to go away,” she counters indignantly.

“Aw, you miss me!” Jim makes an exaggerated kissy face that has her laughing, and soon he is chuckling too. An older woman passes them by, frowning because they are blocking her access to the packaged varieties of cheese.

Once they sober, Jim catches the indecisive look that flits across Uhura’s face. He forestalls her question by squeezing her hand and saying, “I’m okay, really. I just need some time to myself.”

“All right, Jim, but don’t forget those of us who like having you around.”

“I won’t,” he promises.

She sighs but accepts that he won’t tell her why he wants to be alone. On the other hand, as Jim is placing heavy-laden grocery bags into the truck of Nyota’s car, he supposes that Nyota has a way of finding out what she wants to know—and Jim won’t have to said a word about it to her.

Another quiet day and another lonely night passes by. Jim jerks awake to the sound of knocking. Removing his arm from across his eyes, he sits up from his sprawl on his couch and squints against the bright sunlight of morning. A headache looms just around the back of his head. The second bout of knocking does nothing to assuage it. With a sigh, he goes to the apartment door, only pausing to check that he is decently clothed before opening it to tell whoever has come to bother him to piss off.

Except he doesn’t get a chance to do so because Gaila beams at his startled face and shoves past Jim into his apartment. She gives the place a cursory glance before turning to Jim and saying, “Well hello to you, too!”

“Uh, hi,” Jim manages slowly.

“Aren’t you chipper this morning, Jim.” She is now in his kitchen, frowning at large at the inside of his refrigerator.

Jim approaches the counter separating the living room from the kitchen. “Gaila, not that I don’t love seeing you, but why are you here?”

“Hmm? You don’t have any beer. Did you drink it all?” The red-haired woman inspects his appearance, no doubt deciding he’s scruffy but not the drunk kind of scruffy (which is true). Then Gaila answers his question. “I had a chat with Nyota. She said you were staying in your apartment again.”

“And you’re the welcome back party?” Jim crosses his arms. “Look, Gaila, I-I’m terrible company right now.”

She waves a languid hand at him. “I’m not looking for a lay, Kirk, if that’s what you think. Don’t be so… male.”

He knows she isn’t here for sex. They don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. But Gaila rarely does anything without a motive; he just can’t fathom what that motive might be at eight o’clock in the morning.

Perhaps she sees him thinking hard because she says too sweetly, “I’ll make coffee. You obviously need caffeine.”

“I don’t have any—”

Gaila produces a miniature canister of French Roast from her purse and triumphantly shakes it at him. Jim is a sucker for French Roast; he imagines that he can smell the brew already—and, damn it, Gaila knows him too well.

She peers into his ancient coffeemaker and makes a sound of disgust. “When’s the last time you cleaned this?”

Bones had said the same thing when Jim showed him this apartment, attempting to persuade the man to move in.

The appeal of morning coffee wanes with the memory but Gaila is having none of Jim’s “I don’t need caffeine.” She takes out a sponge from God knows where and proceeds to clean the coffee machine until it is suitable to make a cup of French Roast. Jim doesn’t bother to protest further, since he knows her well, too.

Within five minutes, the apartment smells deliciously of roast coffee. Jim accepts a mug from Gaila and she turns to pour herself a cup.

“Oh, shoot!” cries the woman. “Jim, where’s your kitchen towel?”

“Don’t have one.”

Gaila plants her hands on her hips, facing him. There is a streak of coffee down the front of her shirt.

“You should be more careful,” Jim says, using his mug to hide his budding smile.

Her eyes narrow. “You’re useless.” Pulling the wet part of her shirt away from her skin, Gaila says in annoyance, “This is silk! The stain won’t come out!”

Jim asks, “Where are you going?” when she rounds the counter and marches in the direction of his bedroom.

“Bathroom,” she calls back. Then, oddly, “Find something for us to eat, Jim. I’m starving!”

He swallows a mouthful of hot coffee before reluctantly trudging across the kitchen to the far cabinet. When is the last time he went grocery-shopping, not including his excursion with Uhura? Pulling open the cabinet door reveals the answer to be too long ago. Jim drags out a dented can of pork and beans and feels his mouth quirk at the corner. Gaila would brain him with the can if he offered it to her.

What else is there…?

Jim grimaces at the back of his refrigerator, wondering if that strange-colored mold is a product of something he forgot to remove after its expiration date or if it is a creature in its own right, slowly intent on overtaking the entire middle shelf. He is about to touch it like a curious child when someone knocks on his apartment door again—more tentatively this time.

Jim grunts, resolutely deciding to post a Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of his door, and closes the refrigerator. But before he can take a step, a red blur bounds through the living room with the cry, “I’ve got it!”

Jim realizes belatedly that, as Gaila answers the front door, she is in her bra, shirtless.

And apparently unconcerned about her state of undress. Jim gapes as Gaila leans against the doorframe to greet the newcomer in a slightly deeper, sexy voice, “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

Jim hears a hesitant “I—I musta made a mistake, ma’am. Do you know which apartment Jim Kirk lives in?” and pales.

He is already trying to get around the counter and to the door—his feet have turned into two bumbling idiots and he knocks his shin on the corner of a table, stumbling—but Gaila says delightedly, laughing, “Oh, you’re in the right place! Come in, come in.”

She opens the door wide, standing aside, and Leonard steps just inside the entrance. Jim freezes, slightly hunched over and clutching at his abused kneecap. Standing behind Leonard is Spock.

Gaila smiles innocently and tells Kirk, “Jim, you have visitors.”

No one moves and Galia breaks the awkward moment by pointing at the couch and inviting the two men to have a seat.

Perhaps McCoy and Spock are as caught unawares as Jim; perhaps Gaila sounds somewhat menacing (Jim thinks she does). Nevertheless, they sit and Jim attempts to calm his breathing.

Shit, what must this look like? “Gaila,” he says, voice strangled. “You, uh—”

She looks at him and smiles in such a way that Jim’s stomach sinks to the floor. She adjusts her bra, saying, “They’re just breasts, dear. You have always appreciated my breasts.”

Now is not the time for her to be playing coy. “Just—please,” Jim manages to say. He can barely articulate what he wants.

She understands him, though. With a shrug, Gaila saunters away toward his bedroom. Jim lets his gaze linger in that direction because he doesn’t want to face the two men sitting silently side by side on his couch.

Just when he wishes someone would say something (Jim would if he were less of a coward), Bones speaks. “We’re intruding. We should go.”

“No,” Jim responds quickly. “You’re not, I mean, Gaila and I aren’t—”

“What he’s trying to say,” Gaila finishes for him, “is that I’m his ex-girlfriend and you weren’t interrupting anything naughty.” Her lips curve wickedly as she comes to stand beside Jim. The redhead is wearing a faded Iowa University t-shirt, obviously belonging to Kirk. “I hope you don’t mind,” she coos, “I’m borrowing your shirt.”

He can’t help but crack a smile at that. “In your language, borrowing means keeping.”

She never takes her eyes off his. “You know it.”

For a brief moment, they weigh the history between them. Jim relaxes. When he turns back to McCoy and Spock, he suddenly does not care what they think about Gaila in his apartment. She is important to him; always will be. He drapes his arm around her shoulders. “Bones, Spock, this lovely lady is Gaila.”

She waggles her hands at them. “Hello!” Then Galia adds, as if in afterthought, “I hope my semi-nakedness didn’t offend you.”

Spock says evenly “It did not” as McCoy replies, slightly red-faced, “No, ma’am.”

“Jim, you didn’t tell me Mr. McCoy and Mr. Spock are so good-looking,” pouts Gaila. She tucks herself more securely into his side.

Jim didn’t tell her about them at all. Which means someone else did. Jim is beginning to suspect that she wasn’t surprised to find them at his door. He looks at her, questioning, but Gaila only peers at him through her eyelashes.

Then she turns back to their guests, the picture of a polite but inquisitive hostess. “I hear you two are passing through town. How much longer do you plan to stay?” Her tone implies that the answer is of the utmost importance.

Jim simultaneously wants to retract the prying question and hear the response. Does Gaila know how… invested he is with these men?

She gently detaches herself from his side and glides to a chair to perches on the end of its seat. Jim recognizes the line of her body—the subtle, dangerous quality to it—when most men would see only a beautiful figure and long, lovely legs. Somehow Gaila does know—she knows Jim is hiding in his apartment and she knows the reason has something to do with Spock and McCoy.

And she’s prepared to go to war on his behalf.

He re-evaluates the coincidental timing of her arrival, drawing conclusions that leave him dumbfounded and a bit breathless.

But nobody is paying attention to him now. Gaila is focused on the two men, and they are focused on her.

“I am not entirely sure,” Bones is saying.

“Really?” purrs Gaila.

Jim rarely ignores his instinct for sensing a brewing fight. “Gaila?” He reaches for her shoulder but the woman lightly slaps at his hand in warning without looking.

Leonard visibly tenses.

“No, Jim,” she says, “let me talk to them. It’s apparent they have no regard for your feelings.” Her words are venomous, no matter how gently spoken they are.

McCoy’s mouth presses into a thin line. Spock, however, is the one who answers the verbal barb. “Upon what facts do you base your assumption?” the lawyer questions her.

“Here’s a fact, Mr. Spock: Jim is not a good man—he is a great man. He’s the guy who runs into the burning building to save the baby.”

Jim groans but Gaila ignores him just as she ignores Spock’s question.

She goes on to say, “There is a lot of loyalty to Kirk in this town. If you think you can hurt him and people will turn a blind eye, you’re wrong. Your welcome in Riverside lasts only as long as your good intentions toward Jim.”

Jim has a hand over his eyes—he’s attempting not to see this particular train wreck—but he can hear McCoy perfectly well. (It’s hard to cover his eyes and plug both ears at the same time with only two hands; he attempts it anyway.)

“Ma’am,” and how can McCoy be so polite but cold at the same time? “I don’t know where you pick up your gossip but I—neither Spock nor I—intend to disrespect or hurt Jim.”

Gaila jumps to her feet and Jim makes a grab for her, telling her to back off. “Stop it, Gaila, you aren’t helping!”

She fists a hand in the sleeve of his shirt, long nails digging in, and fires back, “So it doesn’t matter that they tear out your heart and stomp on it? How is that okay, Jim?” Gaila shrieks, “They’re just like Carol!”

He instantly flinches and releases his hold on her.

Whatever she sees in his face kills her anger. “Oh, Jim, I’m sorry.”

“Bones and Spock are nothing like Carol,” he says flatly, needing to deny the accusation.

Gaila is absolutely still. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “Jim, I… I know how badly she hurt you.” He steps back, and the rest of her words come out in a rush. “You never said you blamed her but I saw that pain in you. I saw it, baby, and I’ll be damned if I stand aside while you’re gettin’ hurt.” Her accent only thickens when she’s upset.

He feels compelled to look at Bones and Spock. There is little to be read upon Spock’s face but McCoy’s expression is strangely tender and guilty. Jim sighs for the second time that morning. “Gaila, you should go home.”

Her face crumples, and Galia says in a small voice, “Please don’t hate me.”

Jim gently takes her by the shoulders. “I could never hate you, Gaila.” He tugs one of her red curls fondly. “And I’m very grateful to have such a fierce protector.”

She shudders under his hands and laughs, though the laugh wobbles. “You know I can’t help it. Nyota told me…” She trails off, but Jim has a good idea of what Nyota might have said to her friend. “What we had once, Jim,” explains the redhead, “it was good but it’s my fault for letting it go.”

“The decision was mutual,” he reminds her.

“Only because I’m a loose woman and I won’t ever settle down. You need more, and we both know it.” Gaila lifts her chin, daring him to deny her words, and Jim is glad to see her steady and strong again. She looks at the quiet pair on the couch. “I was foolish and gave him up. Take it to heart when I tell you not to make the same mistake.”

Blushing, Jim pleads, “Are you done?”

She smoothes the edge of his t-shirt over her hips. “Yes,” she says at last.

Jim loves her but he is more than happy to watch her collect her purse and walk her out the door. Gaila says nothing, only hitches her purse higher onto her shoulder, and pauses to cup his jaw. Then she kisses him lightly on the mouth, smiles, and leaves him alone.

Except, Jim remembers, he isn’t alone.

Spock and McCoy are still on his couch, observing him kiss his ex, waiting. As he closes the door and locks it, it finally occurs to Jim that they had a reason for coming to his apartment. Gaila’s presence and subsequent meddling had distracted Kirk from the obvious.

What do they want? What are they going to say?

He closes his eyes for a moment, clearly picturing a short one-sided conversation in which Bones states “I now realize I need Spock” and “Goodbye.” Spock would say nothing. After all, why would he need to speak to Jim once he has McCoy?

Thus Jim is surprised when he turns around to find Bones standing an arm’s length away, looking like he wants to beg Jim for something but doesn’t know if begging would do any good.

Jim swallows past the lump in his throat and says softly, “Bones?”

McCoy breathes deeply, then unclenches one of his hands enough to offer it to Jim. Kirk stares at the hand, unsure what McCoy wants him to do.

“Jim, can you forgive me?” Bones asks.

“For what?” he returns, still staring at that empty hand. McCoy slowly lowers it back to his side at the confusion on Jim’s face.

“For what I did—and for what I didn’t do.”

Jim shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything, Bones. Anything at all. Spock’s the one followed you halfway across the U.S. He’s the one who can help you get Joanna back.” He’s the one who can love you. But saying those words means Jim admits that Spock has bested him in every aspect.

“That doesn’t mean you did nothing for me, Jim,” says Leonard in a husky voice.

Jim sees something in Leonard’s eyes that makes he seek refuge on the other side of the room. It’s easier to talk to McCoy when he does not have to look the man in the face. “I get it, Bones. You want to thank me—and you’re a decent guy, so you want to tell me in person that you’re leaving.”

“Jim—”

“Okay, I understand that. What I don’t understand, though, is why he’s here.” Jim’s voice drops to a lower octave. “That’s just rubbing salt in the wound, Bones.”

Hands grab him. “Damn it, Jim,” McCoy half-yells, “why do you always jump to conclusions!”

He pulls away from Bones’ grip, now staring into brown, furious but pained eyes. “Who says I’m jumping to anything—or anyone,” he retorts, words rather silly but his brain is short-circuiting, disconcerted by sensory input (the smell of Bones, the warmth of McCoy’s skin) and emotional upheaval (anger, yearning, despair). “You’ve got Spock!”

Almost shockingly affectionate is the rejoinder “And you have got a hard head, kid.” McCoy touches Jim’s face—caresses his jaw—and Jim loses his balance in more ways than one.

He jerks back and does the only sensible thing: he flies at Spock and latches onto the lawyer like a crazed lunatic, manhandling Spock without permission into a position that makes Spock the barrier between him and McCoy.

Apparently Leonard thinks he has lost his mind, too, because Bones asks Jim what he’s doing.

The words come out of Jim, unbidden. “Protecting myself!”

Leonard opens his mouth and closes it before opening it again. “What? From me?” His expression says, What in God’s name do you think I’m going to do to you?

Jim is discombobulated. Clutching the back of Spock’s suit jacket sleeves seems to be the only thing steadying him right now.

Spock has not moved an inch or said one word of Jim’s actions. He’s doing that calm, I am zen thing Jim really needs to learn how to do.

Leonard’s eyes shift from Jim to Spock. McCoy calls the man’s name. Spock replies, “Please remain where you are, Leonard.”

Jim shifts so that he is directly behind Spock and can’t see past him if he doesn’t want to. He realizes belatedly that he is panicking.

Spock continues to talk, but not to McCoy. He is saying: “Jim, if you are willing to listen, I would like to speak with you in private.”

Jim’s fingers flex around the cloth of Spock’s jacket but don’t let go. “I was fine before you two showed up.” It’s possible he isn’t referring to this morning but to McCoy’s and Spock’s appearance in Riverside.

Spock only asks, “Will you grant me a moment of your time, Mr. Kirk?”

Formality Jim can handle. He nods, and his forehead almost brushes against Spock’s back. Recognizing that he is practically leaning on the man, Jim releases his hold on Spock and puts some distance between them.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk.”

Spock clasps his hands behind his back and turns, and Jim has an excellent side profile view of him. In the background, McCoy is quiet and clearly unnerved by these turn of events. Leonard does not interfere, however, when Spock prompts Jim to lead the way from the living room.

Not having many options, Jim closes them into his bedroom. Kirk hopes Spock does not notice when he kicks a pair of discarded briefs under his dresser to hide it. Leaning against the door and settling one hand on the doorknob (just in case), he guesses, “You just wanted to give me a chance to compose myself.”

“I shall admit that was a part of my motivation.” Then Spock closes the distance separating them until Jim imagines that he can feel the body heat coming off the other man. “Jim,” the man begins, “I would like to explain what did—and did not—happen between Leonard and myself Friday night.”

Jim closes his eyes. “I can live without the details.”

“I must explain, regardless.”

Jim figured as much. He says in resignation, “Tell me.”

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Along Comes a Stranger (28/28) – from July 10, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (27/28) – from July 9, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (26/28) – from July 5, 2011
• Chapter of Doom – from July 4, 2011
• Along Comes a Stranger (25/28) – from June 30, 2011

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