Title: Along Comes a Stranger (12/?)
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 | 11

Part Twelve

Jim remains with his back pressed against his closed bedroom door. Spock is near but utterly still, staring at Jim as if he can will the man to believe everything he is about to say. Jim feels like his heart might be beating unsteadily in his chest. Whether this reaction is from nerves or anticipation or simply Spock’s proximity, Kirk does not know.

“Leonard was intoxicated,” begins Spock, as though Jim wasn’t there when Bones stumbled off the steps, completely oblivious to Jim and focused on the other man.

Normally Jim would make some sarcastic reply or a stupid joke; he can’t do either so he lets the statement pass in silence.

“I assume that you witnessed Leonard’s—indelicate display of affection. I was caught off guard, as I am sure you were, Jim.”

Spock doesn’t say he was upset about it, though, despite that Spock must also be aware of how upsetting it was for Jim. Jim simply nods for Spock to continue.

The lawyer straightens a fraction of an inch more, bearing his shoulders back like he is fortifying himself to meet a new challenge. “Leonard explained to me, albeit in a slightly convoluted manner due to his condition, that he was not indifferent to my feelings, nor to my person—”

Jim bites his lower lip and winces. Hearing this is twice as unpleasant as he had imagined.

“Jim, look at me.“

Jim opens his eyes, unaware that he had squeezed them shut. Swallowing hard, he apologizes, “Sorry.”

Why is Spock sad? The lawyer doesn’t necessarily appear sad, but Jim has the sudden sense that Spock is, deeply so. Kirk bites back a second apology, knowing Spock would not understand why if he says it.

The lawyer is grave. “I want you to understand that hearing such words from Leonard i-is an occurrence I had hoped for but considered unlikely.”

“I do understand,” Jim interrupts softly, “and don’t think I’m not happy for you, Spock. I’m just… unhappy for myself, too.”

“You should not be.” Spock shifts, his arms loosening for a moment like he is thinking about reaching out; except his arms tighten back into place at the last second—hands remaining behind his back. Spock explains, “Leonard’s admission of attraction was a combination of gratitude and personal revelation—the realization that he is no longer obliged to ignore his desire for men as well as women. I fear that the admission has no basis in reality and is only a result born from a substantial degree of relief.”

Jim slumps against the door. “Don’t be an idiot, Spock. Bones may have been three sheets to the wind, but he wouldn’t have made up his feelings for you, gratitude or not. He’s been repressing them.”

“As he has not repressed his feelings for you?” counters the other man. Jim shakes his head in denial but Spock adds, “When Leonard touches you, the contact is too lengthy to insinuate a familial or friendly affection. When you are near but not actively engaged with Leonard, he watches you, Jim. I would continue with my observations but you have sufficient intelligence to comprehend my point.”

“He kissed you, Spock!” Jim instantly regrets shouting that.

Spock tilts his head as if Jim’s burst of anger is intriguing. “You too have shared intimacy with Leonard.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Doctor McCoy relayed the information to me.”

Jim presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “God, why would Bones tell you that?”

“I thought it foolhardy to accept the words of a drunken man. I asked Leonard for an explanation of his actions the morning following the event. We—discussed many topics. You and Leonard have kissed on two occasions but have progressed no further than kissing.”

How can Spock sound so clinical about everything? Jim wonders.

Spock’s mouth quirks infinitesimally but, to Jim, it quirks. “I have been duly informed that you have not even engaged in a ‘make-out session,’ which Leonard seems to believe is the next step in a relationship between two people.”

Jim lets his hands slide down his face until he can peek at Spock from between his fingers. There is little doubt in his mind that he is as red as Gaila’s lipstick. “So, are you going to punch me?”

One of those elegantly shaped eyebrows angles upward. “Why would I punch you?”

“That’s usually what one guy does to the other guy trying to poach his territory. Women, though,” Jim tacks on, “scratch and bite and pull hair. If you could, punch me. Please don’t pull my hair.”

“I will do neither, as I am not inclined to violence at this moment.”

“Oh.” Jim drops his hands to his sides. “That’s good, I guess.”

“Indeed.”

Jim decides it is safe to step away from the door. Spock does not back up or move to grant him more space. The action inevitably brings much closer together. Jim looks up, not realizing until now that Spock is so tall, topping Kirk by a good two inches. Of course, he’s never been this close to Spock for this long a period of time either.

He asks, deciding that he would rather know the truth than never know at all, “Did you… did you take him to bed?”

“I lent Leonard the use of my room so that he might sleep away the effects of inebriation, if that is what you wish to hear.” Spock knows what Jim is asking.

“So, you didn’t sleep together?”

Spock measures Kirk for a moment. “Under other circumstances, I might have considered it, Jim.”

Can’t blame a man for that, Jim thinks. Jim won’t act like he has better control, because he most certainly does not. Having Bones all over him like that, even drunk, would have driven Kirk crazy with need—Spock nearby or not. “Was it because of me, then, that you didn’t?”

“In a way, yes. I found that I was disconcerted by your absence—and its implications.” Spock’s voice deepens briefly. “It would have been unkind to take advantage of your trust.”

Jim is startled. “Trust?”

“You trust that we will, as a team, find a solution to McCoy’s problem. I hope for this also. Therefore to allow Leonard to choose either of us at this point in time, no matter the manner of the choosing, will create a distinct unbalance between us.”

Jim is struck speechless. Spock is saying—he had assumed—but what about—?

Then, without warning, the storm of thought disperses, leaving behind a quiet calm. Jim has a clear understanding of everything. “Spock,” he says huskily, “you don’t have to—give up your chance with Bones. I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know,” responds the lawyer and Jim’s stomach has a funny tickly feeling at the certainty in Spock’s voice.

Spock says, in light of Jim’s silence, “I will not deny that I desire a future with Leonard, and I am aware that you share this desire. We will come an agreement in due time, Jim. For now, perhaps, it is better to focus on other details and allow time to help us sort out what we want and what we do not.”

Jim feels inexplicably weak, a bit lightheaded, as though he has pulled through a long illness. Spock is not going to run away with Bones—or allow Bones to run away with him.

“And Bones is okay with this?” he asks, needing this last confirmation.

“Yes.”

Hesitating only a second, Jim says thickly but firmly, “I’m going to hug you now, Spock.”

Spock doesn’t object so Jim carefully leans in to cover the distance between them, making a quiet, inarticulate noise when his hand connects with Spock’s shirt front. Then Jim sighs, throwing caution to the wind, and wraps his arms around Spock’s shoulders. He keeps the hug brief—because, really, this is Spock Jim is hugging and Spock might have been his arch-nemesis at one point—but to Jim’s surprise, when Jim pulls away, Spock’s hand removes itself from the back of Kirk’s neck, where it had lightly settled.

Jim rocks back on his heels, feeling better than he has in days. Feeling like he has a chance to be happy again. “Do you mind staying in here for a minute longer?”

“You wish to prolong the suspense Leonard is experiencing.”

“Yup.”

“Very well.” Spock’s voice is bland as he suggests, “You might pass the next minute by retrieving your undergarment beneath the dresser and placing it in the appropriate hamper.”

Jim considers hiding under his bed but that would only heighten his embarrassment, and possibly cause Spock to rethink Jim’s suitability as a co-conspirator. “I haven’t had time to go to the laundromat,” Kirk manages in his defense.

“Ah,” replies the lawyer, saying no more.

They get distracted when Spock, casually perusing Jim’s book collection, gently extracts the enormous volume of Wolfram’s A New Kind of Science and proceeds to express his surprise that Kirk owns such a book. Jim, a man who loves every book on his shelf for varying reasons, quizzes Spock on the spot about continuous cellular automaton by rule 184—whereupon Spock answers perfectly, going so far as to mention that the yield is a regular nested pattern. Their discussion spans from there, about the book, Stephan Wolfram’s genius in general, and Jim demanding to know why Spock knows so much science, loves it, and yet became a lawyer. Spock begins to explain something about his father’s political career and a family legacy when a pounding on the bedroom door snaps both Kirk and Spock back to the situation at hand.

Jim opens the door with an “Oops, sorry, Bones” and a puppy dog look that he hopes McCoy will fall for.

Leonard pushes past Jim and folds his arms, glaring at Spock like Spock is at fault for their memory lapse. Spock only says, “Leonard.”

McCoy glances sidelong at Jim. “I decided y’all were either asleep or dead, since I haven’t heard a peep in thirty minutes.”

Jim knocks on the wood of the door. “Solid oak, almost soundproof. We were just talking, Bones.”

Leonard returns to staring at Spock. “Is everything okay now?”

“Jim is no longer hyperventilating.”

“Hey,” interrupts Jim, indignant. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” McCoy tells him. “A little bit. Sorry I spooked you, kid.”

Jim shrugs. “Apology accepted.”

“Is it?” asks Leonard very softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jim.”

Jim nods, looking away. He knows that, he does. “I tried to tell Spock it was okay—I’m not angry. Shit, Bones, you know I can’t be angry.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be hurtin’.”

Jim shrugs, lying through his teeth. “I’d get over it.”

Leonard is silent for a long moment. He confesses, quietly sincere enough to make Jim flinch, “I wouldn’t.”

Spock steps away from Jim’s desk, drawing their attention and effectively cutting short an awkward moment. He announces, “It is five minutes until 9:30.”

Leonard blanches. “Ah hell. We’ll miss breakfast.”

Jim looks between them, clearly missing something. “What’s the problem with missing breakfast?”

Leonard mutters too lowly to be heard but Spock replies, “Your mother.”

Jim stares for a moment longer before comprehending. Then he grimaces. “She ordered you here.”

McCoy explains, “We were coming over anyway, but she caught us before we could get out of the diner and said she expects us—all three of us—back before Sulu finishes serving breakfast.”

Jim is digging through his closet by the time Leonard finishes talking. He slings a pair of clean jeans over his shoulder and a t-shirt. Heading for the bathroom, he says, “I’ll be out in five. We’ll make it.”

“And if we don’t?” is McCoy’s question, muffled as Jim shuts the bathroom door.

Jim looks into the mirror over the sink, seeing a man with stubble attempting to become a beard and eyes no longer dulled by an emotion akin to grief staring back at him. “Then we’re in deep shit,” he tells his reflection—and laughs.

They enter The Diner three minutes until 10 am. Jim catches his mother’s eyes across the room, but her look is only a quick appraisal. Jim directs the two men with him to a booth, knowing that it won’t be long before Winona comes over to assess him with a mother’s thoroughness. Spock sits on the inside next to Jim and Bones sits opposite of them both.

Surprisingly, it’s Pavel who bounds up to the table, full of more energy in the morning than Jim has felt in years. “Hello,” beams the young man. Pavel’s eyes alight on Jim. “Hikaru said you were coming today! Where have you been, Jim?”

Jim goes for a half-truth. “I had some things to sort out first. Long days at the garage.”

Pavel accepts this answer readily enough.

Jim asks, “How is everyone?” putting plenty of emphasis on ‘everyone.’ Pavel’s eyes widen in comprehension.

“Good, good,” says Chekov. “Everyone—in the kitchen—is good!”

Jim nods. He pulls out a jump rope from his jacket pocket, glad he had had the foresight to grab it on the way out of his apartment earlier. “Here. This is for you—in the kitchen.” He winks.

Pavel takes it gingerly and says, “Thank you. I will bring you water.”

“Coffee!” calls McCoy to Pavel’s retreating back. Then Leonard leans on the table and asks, “What was that about?”

“What?” asks Kirk, shedding his jacket and simultaneously identifying the other customers in the diner without being obvious about it.

Leonard snaps his fingers in front of Jim’s face. “Hey, Earth to Jim!”

Jim slouches comfortably. “What, Bones?”

“The jump rope?”

“For Pavel?”

McCoy snorts. “Yeah right. The cook’s not going to say a word while Pavel skips rope in the kitchen? Nice try.”

“It’s a gift,” Jim says. “I’m honor-bound not to say anything else.”

Jim sees the moment Leonard makes the connection—probably remembering the little girl playing around the motel. McCoy lets the subject drop.

“Good morning,” Winona Kirk greets them as she walks up to their booth and flips to a new page of her pad.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Jim.” Winona doesn’t look up from her pad, and Jim has a sudden, crystal-clear idea of how much trouble he is in.

But why should he be in trouble?

Winona is talking. “Pavel will bring you coffee—and tea for Mr. Spock, of course. What else would you like?”

Leonard is picking at the tabletop, eyes downcast. Jim turns to Spock, who is studying a spot with intensity somewhere off to the side.

Jim sighs mentally, not surprised that they expect him to go toe-to-toe with his mother. She’s not that terrifying! Nevertheless, he can’t smack either of them without earning a smack from his mother in retaliation.

He turns his brightest, broadest grin on Winona. “A bagel and cream cheese?”

“Toast and butter,” says his mother as she scribbles this on her pad.

He frowns. “And, um, Bones will have an onion and bellpepper omelette?”

Leonard dares to flick his gaze to Jim’s and nod in confirmation before going back to staring at the table.

“Mm. One scrambled egg.” Winona writes this down diligently.

Jim protests, “No, an omelette—”

She finally looks at him—just looks at him. Jim sinks into his seat a little. He finishes their order with “Whatever Spock’s allowed to have.”

“A grapefruit.”

No one complains. As Winona tucks her pen into her apron and turns away, Jim mutters, “I didn’t do anything.”

Winona turns back. McCoy kicks Jim under the table.

They wait until Winona tires of staring them down and leaves—which is a good number of seconds—before breathing again. Leonard plants his face into his hands. Jim knocks over the sugar container. Spock straightens an errant cuff-link.

Pavel comes back with two mugs of coffee and a cup of tea. Together he and Jim clean up the spilled sugar while McCoy downs half of his black coffee, only pausing to grimace afterward that he didn’t sweeten it.

Leaning in and lowering his voice, Pavel asks Jim, “Vhat did you do?”

McCoy overrides Jim’s “Nothing!” with “He skipped Sunday lunch.”

“I told her I wasn’t going to be there!”

McCoy eyes Jim. “And did you have brains enough to at least call her on Sunday, even if you weren’t going to show up?” Leonard sets down his mug. “Jim, I get why you haven’t talked to me or seen me in the last week—but why on God’s green earth would you alienate yourself from your family and friends?”

Jim clenches his jaw. “Why did you think you had to hide in a motel in Iowa?”

McCoy says nothing.

Pavel backs up from the table, clutching a cleaning rag. “I think—Hikaru needs me.” The kitchen door is left swinging as Chekov dashes through it, disappearing into the relative safety of the kitchen.

“Arguing is pointless,” Spock remarks from his corner of the booth, where (Jim muses) Spock could easily keep quiet and no one would notice him.

“So says the lawyer,” quips McCoy, a mocking curl to his mouth.

“In this instance, yes. Neither you nor Jim will gain victory over the other when you are in equal difficulty by your actions.”

Leonard stabs a finger across the table at Spock. “Don’t you dare step on your soapbox, Spock! If I want preachin’, I’ll go to church!”

“I highly doubt a sermon would improve your disposition, Leonard.”

As Bones sputters, Jim stifles a laugh and busies himself with fitting as much cream and sugar into his coffee mug as possible without making the liquid sluice down the sides. If necessary, he can always call his mother over. That will shut them up quickly.

But Jim finds he likes the sound of their banter.

Sipping at his much-lightened coffee, Jim lets his gaze track his mother to the kitchen window. Spock and McCoy—arguing still—drop to background noise when Winona looks around to meet his eyes. He smiles at her, not the trembling kind of smile, not the liar’s smile, but soft and genuine and I’m better.

She studies him for a long moment, then her face relaxes. He notes that when Winona grabs their plates from the window, she puts two packets of apple jelly next to his toast and butter.

They’ll be all right, he knows. And if Leonard and Spock behave well, Jim might be able to talk his mother into lifting their meal restrictions for dinner. He clears his throat, catching the attention of the men with him and says, “Food’s coming.”

Leonard sits back, placing his napkin in his lap. He looks at Jim and confesses, “I’m glad you’re here, Jim.”

Jim holds those more-green-than-brown eyes a second or two, observing Leonard’s honesty, and responds with a nod.

Leonard glances next to Jim. “Spock, you want to…?” Whatever McCoy intends to convey with his hand gesture, Spock instantly understands.

Spock turns to Jim. “I have found a house to rent which meets my requirements.”

Despite their talk, despite that living in a bed-and-breakfast isn’t meant to be a permanent situation, Jim uncurls his hand from his mug in shock and reaches for Spock, only to abort the gesture when he realizes what he is doing. “You’re leaving the farm?” he asks in surprise.

“Yes.” Spock’s look is inquisitive, a question of why would this be unexpected?

“Jim.” McCoy takes his hand instead and squeezes it. “He’s not leaving Riverside, Jim—just got himself a bigger place, with an office for work.”

“Work?” Jim repeats dumbly. He almost jumps when Winona sets his plate down next to him. He had forgotten about her, about the food.

Winona Kirk hands Leonard his scrambled eggs and asks Spock, “Do you intend to practice in Riverside, Mr. Spock?”

Spock replies courteously, “I will be available should any person have need of my services.”

Jim looks at Winona and Winona looks at him. “Harry isn’t going to like that,” she says like it’s an observation of the weather.

“Who’s Harry?” Leonard wants to know.

Jim scratches the back of his head. “Harcourt Mudd. Pretty much Riverside’s only lawyer.”

“An uncommon attribute of this town,” inputs Mr. Spock.

Winona answers the unspoken question: “Mr. Mudd is backed by the Q. Aspiring lawyers find it easier—” and safer, they all hear that in her voice, “—to practice where they won’t warrant the attention of the Q.”

“I’m not liking the sound of the Q. What are they? A gang? Mafia?” Leonard appears both curious and apprehensive.

Jim can’t blame him. Riverside seems nice on the surface but it has its criminal undercurrents like any other city in America. “The Q are the oldest family in Riverside. They, well—they aren’t people you want to piss off. They won’t mind ruining your life. Trust me on that.”

“You must be careful, Mr. Spock,” Winona tells the lawyer.

Because Spock isn’t likely to, Jim pats her hand. “It’ll be fine, Mom.”

Her expression is dubious but resigned. Then she eyes their table and pulls out her pad. “People will be coming in for lunch soon. You should try some of the lemon meringue before it’s gone.” Winona ends whatever note she is writing with a flourish.

Jim isn’t dumb enough to say no. Apparently neither is Leonard or Spock. Satisfied, Winona leaves them to their meager breakfast—and the promise of pie.

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