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aaand, i also wrote another one at the same time - i told you i had it bad.
summary: Crowley brings home peaches from the greenmarket to the delight of Aziraphale. Having imagined what it would be like, Crowley asks if Aziraphale will enjoy them as if it were twenty-five hundred years ago. Aziraphale’s answer surprises him.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
the good omens brainrot is strong with me, dear readers. it broke me out of a three year writing hiatus!
i was inspired by this text post by @1941-crowley-slut and some of the comments made on it, so thank you very much for that (:
summary: During a pleasant evening spent together in their cottage, Crowley makes what he considers to be a lighthearted jab at his angel’s past indiscretions. But sadly, for Aziraphale, the ‘joke’ has finally crossed a line. Crowley then seeks to reconcile with his angel.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I entered the Captain's quarters half-expecting Jim to be asleep, but was pleasantly surprised to find he was still awake, at his desk.
"Jim!"
He didn't look up at me, which should've been my first clue, but I didn't notice his eyes weren't scanning the open book in front of him. I came over to him, and leaned over to kiss his cheek.
"Long day?" I asked.
It finally struck me something was wrong when he didn't answer. I pulled myself back up, and put my hand on his shoulder.
"What's the matter, Jim?"
He let out a breath, and something about the tremor I heard in it set off an alarm in the back of my mind. I let go of his shoulder to guide his chair to face me. He didn't resist, but he still wouldn't look at me, his eyes downcast. I knelt down at his side, and took one of his hands in mine.
"Darlin', what's wrong?"
His fingers curled around mine - a relief - but he didn't speak for a little while. I gave him the time, as much as he needed.
He took a deep, steadying breath, and spoke with a quiet determination. "It's nothing."
Clearly, it wasn't. "Jim, please. Tell me what's bothered you."
I think he wanted to keep up the act, but as he finally looked up in to my eyes, he thought better of it. After running his hand across his brow, he finally admitted, "You wouldn't kiss me."
I ran through the day’s events in my mind. About midday, Jim had dropped by my office, unfortunately just as I was preparing for a presentation at the biopsy lab. He’d been sweet with me, smiling and carrying on, and I appreciated it, but didn’t have the time to hang around. I told him as much when he’d cornered me for a kiss - I thought I’d handled it well, but apparently I was wrong.
"I was working!" This was clearly the wrong thing to say, and I knew it right away with the way it made Jim cringe. "Jim, I-"
"You were working," he said in agreement, but it felt wrong.
"Jim-"
"I shouldn't have asked."
"That's not-"
"I won't do it again."
"Jim, stop it," I said with some forcefulness. I made myself take a breath to temper my tone, and said, "What's gotten in to you?"
The edge in Jim's expression was starting to waver, and it pulled at my heart something awful. "Oh, darlin'," I said, and I lifted myself up off the floor and pulled at his hand to join me. Once he was standing, I wrapped my arms around him.
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."
He drew in to me, settling in so that I couldn't see his face.
"I didn't mean to upset you."
"I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I just needed it today."
"Baby," I said, pulling back so that I could see his face as I held him. He was on the verge of tears, his jaw clenched to try and keep the emotion at bay. I reached up to hold his face, my heart aching for him, and a tear fell on to my hand. "I'm sorry. I wish I'd known."
He closed his eyes, leaning into my hand. I ran my thumb across his cheek, catching another tear as it trailed down his face.
"Tell me," I said, my voice hovering just above a whisper. "Tell me when it's important, alright?"
His brow furrowed as he said, "I know you can't always indulge me, Bones."
"It's not an indulgence!” I said, a hint of reproach in my tone. “Jim, we all need affection, it’s part of being human. Now, I can’t always give it to you when you ask for it, but don’t you ever think it’s because I don’t want to!”
Jim moved in to me again, resting his chin on my shoulder and holding me around my middle.
“Jim,” I pleaded with him, “If you tell me it’s important, I’ll know to make it up to you as soon as I can. Alright?”
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he muttered, but I wouldn’t have it.
“Hogwash. It’s no bother to me. I never want you to feel like I don’t care, Jim. Never.”
He pressed his face in to my shoulder, and I held him as near as I could.
“Promise me. Let me know.”
After a few breaths we took together, he pulled his head back up and said, “Okay.”
I leaned back to look in to his eyes. I could see he meant it.
“Okay,” I said, and without letting another moment pass, I kissed him.
author’s note: behold! at dawn of the final day, it is complete, my submission for the @fuckyeahspones summer event!
please enjoy this short & sweet scene from a retired spones’ back porch on a warm summer night. 🌙 ✨
-
Spock sat beside me, our cat T’Sha snoozing lazily in his lap despite the heat of the summer night. Our back porch glowed with a soft yellow light above us, the fan blades spinning lazily, and beyond the screen Spock’s garden shifted in the evening breeze, the gentle sounds in concert with a chorus of insects which came from the woodline out past our yard.
We’d sat in an easy silence, Spock content to sit peacefully while I went between my latest medical journal and the night’s sky, watching the stars appear as the evening grew later. I felt his ease entwine with mine, our shared feelings soft and warm.
The night went on, the minutes long, passing by without drawing attention to themselves. Spock was still, sometimes lifting his hand to pass over T’sha as she slept. As tiredness tugged at my eyes, I tucked my journal away and took to watching him, unabashed in my affection for him. It was no small thing, and something I dearly appreciated, that after so many years of living with constant urgency we had found our little refuge, here.
Not long after, Spock turned his head to look at me, having felt my gaze and my regard for him, I’m sure. After a brief assessment of my posture, he met his eyes with mine, and I raised my eyebrow at him coyly. He returned the gesture, smiling - his lips barely moved, but his eyes betrayed their stoicism, as they’d always done.
He gave a nod at the end of our wordless exchange, and with a gentle hand he lifted T’sha from his lap and stood. He turned to me, and offered his other hand.
“That time, already?” I asked with a smile, but I took his hand and our bond swelled, gleaming at our touch.
/Yes, ashalik,/ was his silent reply.
He helped me to stand, and before I gathered my journal, I tucked myself at his side (as to not disturb T’Sha) and wrapped my arm around him. He drew me near, and I kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, darlin’,” I said, for his help, for the pleasant evening we’d shared.
I heard a soft pat-pat, Spock having guided T’Sha down into the seat of my chair. He turned in to me, raising his hand to run his two fingertips along the edge of my jaw. I let my hands settle against his waist, and I pulled myself into him as he curled his fingers under my chin and drew my lips to his.
We lingered there, unperturbed by the heat of the summer night - all I could feel was the warmth of his kiss, slow and sweet against my lips, and our shared devotion, steadily coursing throughout our bond.
Spock pulled away, and as we breathed he rested his forehead against mine.
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Spock gave Leonard a stoic nod before turning to leave. Leonard had become accustomed to this, having seen a shift in recent years in the Ambassador’s overall demeanor. The Vulcan rarely smiled anymore, but he made his feelings known in other ways. Or perhaps, after all this time, Leonard still had a unique insight when it came to this particular one.
Leonard returned his nod, having already said his goodbyes. He adjusted the blanket strewn across his lap, his eyes downcast, and he wondered when or if he would see Spock again. He was, after all, as Spock had so delicately reminded him, getting very old. Leonard smiled, and shook his head at the memory. Oh, Spock.
Just as Leonard was considering what in the hell he was going to do with the rest of his afternoon, Spock stopped just before his door, and turned over his shoulder.
“Doctor?”
Leonard lifted his head, his wrinkled brow knit in surprise. “Yes?”
“Was there something more you wished to say to me?”
Leonard narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think that?”
Spock turned his body to fully face the retired doctor once more. “I perceived a shift in your emotional state.”
“I thought Vulcans were telepathic by touch.”
With no change in his expression, Spock replied, “We have been acquainted for many years.”
“I suppose.” Leonard eyed Spock, a flash of suspicion slowly subsiding within him - Vulcans were touch telepaths, weren’t they? - and it was replaced with another kind of spark. An opportunity had arisen, and considering the circumstances, those being that he may never get another chance, Leonard was loath to let it pass by.
“Fine. I’ll tell you, if you really want to know.”
Spock gave another nod, and returned to the chair he had been sitting in before. Leonard fussed with his blanket on his lap, and flattened out his cardigan over his chest. There wasn’t much he could do to pretty up anymore, but he’d be damned if he completely stopped trying.
“Huh,” Leonard began, watching Spock watch him with a cool, even expression. Spock raised his eyebrow, and Leonard smiled, briefly. He then took a breath, and continued.
“I never thought I’d say this to you. Don’t trouble yourself over it, and don’t feel like I need you to do anything with it. I know better.”
Spock’s eyebrow settled back in its place, and he waited.
Somehow, Leonard had thought it’d be harder to say.
“I love you.”
Something small shifted in Spock’s expression. His eyes softened.
“I love you, as well.”
“No, Spock,” Leonard said, patting Spock’s arm reproachfully. “I don’t mean it like that.” He took his hand back, and set it in his lap. “Yes, I love you as a friend, but that’s not all. I’ve loved you for years, and I never said anything because I figured you had more important things to concern yourself with. Besides, you knew, didn’t you? You must have.”
There was something else in Spock’s expression - was it confusion?
“Leonard-”
“It’s alright Spock,” Leonard said, patting Spock’s arm sympathetically. “You can say it. I’ve known where I’ve stood with you for decades, and I’ve made my peace with it.”
Spock placed his hand on Leonard’s wrist, which was covered with Leonard’s cardigan, and held his hand there.
“Leonard.”
“What?”
“I love you as well.”
Leonard leaned back and made a face of disbelief. “You’re indulging me.”
“No,” Spock asserted, giving a small shake of his head.
“I told you, Spock,” Leonard said, glancing between Spock’s face and his hold on his wrist. “You don’t need to spare my feelings. There’s nothing could hurt this old thing anymore.” With his free hand, he made a fist and tapped at his chest. “I’ve seen it all.”
“Doctor,” Spock said with careful patience, “A Vulcan cannot lie.”
Leonard moved his hand from his own chest to Spock’s, jabbing him with his two fingertips. “This one fibs, I’ve seen it done.”
Spock gently squeezed McCoy’s wrist. “I am not being dishonest with you, Leonard.”
Well, hell. He’d thought he’d seen it all. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Leonard sat with it a moment, finding his disbelief to be a little hard to shake. Spock wasn’t lying, though, he knew that by now. So instead, he said, “Your delivery leaves something to be desired.”
Spock shifted his hand down to lay his hand over Leonard’s. “Doctor?”
“Hm?”
“If you will not accept my telling you so, will you allow me to show you, instead?”
this one is dedicated to the tos-spones channel in the mcspirk discord server. y’all are real ones. special shout-out to andie and andy for the initial concept. love y’all LLAP 🖖
---
The door to my quarters slid open with a hiss. Spock entered, and with a practiced movement he closed the door behind him without turning to look. His expression was neutral, although I could tell by the way he carried himself that he was on edge, like he usually was when he came around after working hours.
“Good evening,” I said, standing from where I’d been sitting at my desk. He looked to me, his face (and especially his eyes) relaxing to match the energy the rest of him gave. He nodded at my greeting, but did not speak.
I’d come to expect that. Not every time, but as we’d come to see more of each other over the past month or so, I found Spock to be reserved in a way I hadn’t anticipated. It was sweet - though he hadn’t said so to me in so many words, I’d picked up on the fact that our little tête-à-têtes hadn’t yet lost the thrill of new romance, and I could only imagine what that sort of feeling was like for him, a half-Vulcan.
I extended my hand to him as I approached, meeting him near the center of my rooms. He held up two fingers for me, and I met them with mine in a Vulcan kiss, his touch cool and his hand steady, in spite of his apprehension. I watched him watch our hands, his eyes downcast, his face beginning to tinge with color.
A moment passed, releasing a bit of the tension in the air as we both settled into what this meeting was for.
“May I?” I asked him, pulling my hand from our kiss and holding my arm out wide. He met my eyes, and I felt a chill run through me. His gaze was soft, affectionate, but intense at the same time. He again did not speak his reply, but nodded and stepped in to me, the both of us wrapping our arms around each other. I resisted the urge to kiss his cheek as I settled against his shoulder, choosing to let our affections build at a slow, easy pace.
As moments passed, I relaxed into his hold, the stress of the business of the day soothed by his touch. He held me with a gentle firmness, always so very careful with his strength. I felt like I could have completely let go of my balance in his arms, but I stood with him, and after a while, I rubbed his back and pulled away so I could see his face.
My hands pulled toward me, resting on his upper arms as I regarded him. His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips gripping at the sides of my shirt. His eyes, half-lidded, still had that same soft intensity to them. I think we both wanted the same thing, as after meeting each other’s gazes, both our visions dropped to our lips - his were slightly parted, and so beautifully flushed with a soft, rose color.
I raised a hand from Spock’s arm to brush my fingers along the line of his jaw. He closed his eyes, and I let my touch round back toward his chin before I leaned in, bringing my lips to his.
Along with the sensations of our kiss, gentle, soft, and slow, I felt an odd sense at the back of my mind’s eye. It was difficult to describe, and even more difficult to maintain awareness of, as I only ever experienced it when Spock and I touched for some length of time. And, well, as we did so, I often found myself prioritizing other sensations over the vague awareness. The best I can say is it was like the feeling of being watched, but much fainter and much less ominous.
Our kiss grew in intensity, his lips parting for me, sharing in each other’s warmth and affection - I forgot everything that wasn’t that, wasn’t his touch. His hands stayed planted at my sides, pressing his palms into me and his fingertips still gripping, holding.
I pulled back, letting my breath come out as a sigh. Spock’s cheeks had now fully flushed with a faint green, and I felt that mine were just as warm.
“Spock,” I said, smiling as I felt his fingers continue to pulse against me. “You can take it off, if you like.” My shirt, I meant. Spock drew in a breath, his hands momentarily lifting away from me.
“It’s alright,” I assured him. “Go ahead.” I lifted my arms, resting them over his shoulders and taking half a step back to give some room between our chests.
He hesitated - I looked down, and his hands were still hovering around me. When I looked back up at him, I saw his expression shift, his brow furrowing, a quiet determination taking hold. I felt a kind of pride along with my attraction for him.
He worked slowly at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up so that it slipped out from being tucked, and he moved along and around until it was fully freed. He hesitated again - I watched his fingers slip beneath the end of my shirt and hold it, away from my body, for a few, lengthy seconds. I felt myself blush under the weight of his complete concentration.
With a steadying breath, he turned his hands, and allowed himself to touch my skin as he pushed up my shirt. His touch was not as cool as it had been before, having carried away some of my warmth as we embraced, and as he slowly drew his fingertips up my torso, I had to keep myself from shuddering as my skin lit up beneath him. I closed my eyes, my heartbeat picking up.
I felt him pause, his hands just below my chest, and his grip slowly shifted, his fingertips spreading and his hands, the full length of them, pressing into my sides. I heard him draw in breath, soft but sharp, and I opened my eyes to see Spock with wide eyes and parted lips.
For a moment, I didn’t understand, concern flashing through me at his apparent surprise. But as I watched him, so completely focused on me, on his hands touching me, I remembered - I remembered how sensitive a Vulcan’s touch is, especially of the hands, and I felt them begin to move against me, at first slow, then picking up pace and pressure.
I stopped trying to keep myself from reacting to his touch - it was just as well, as I don’t think I could’ve managed it even if I’d wanted to. My breath hitched, I trembled in his hands, and it didn’t stop him in the least as he roamed over me, up and down my sides, across my midriff and back. The damned shirt wasn’t even off, but I didn’t blame him, I couldn’t - I could see how completely enamored he was with me, how completely overcome. I tried to imagine what it must feel like for him in the moments I wasn’t also overwhelmed.
After many breathless moments between us, Spock’s hands slowed in their journeys, and with a sigh, Spock lowered his head and pulled me into an embrace, his hands still tucked beneath my shirt. He rested his head against mine, and I damn near melted into his arms.
“Leonard,” he said in a half-whisper, the first thing he’d said all night. “I find you to be endlessly captivating.”
Jesus. He speaks not a word, and then that. My mind spun with how flattered I was to hear him speak that way of me. Of me!
I struggled to say anything to him, but he graced me with his patience, and finally, I said, “You’re not so bad, yourself.” He held me a little tighter - I think he knew, with his hands on me, just how much of an understatement that was.
We stayed together for a long while, and eventually pulled apart once my heart had stopped doing its damnedest to beat out of my chest. Spock had allowed my shirt to fall almost completely back down, one of his hands holding the hem loosely at my waist. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Well?” I asked. I pointedly looked down at Spock’s middle, feeling a growing desire to remove his shirt as well as mine. I took a handful of the fabric, and glanced back up to Spock, a little unsure if he’d want to carry on after what we’d just done.
Spock raised a brow in return, and smirked at me, telling me everything I needed to know.
“Go on then,” I told him. And in the blink of an eye, our shirts were finally thrown aside.
"Hey." Jim clapped me on the shoulder, jostling my mug of half-drunk coffee. "Let's go."
I looked up to him, slowly, from my seat on the front porch. I hadn't expected to be going anywhere that day. "Go where?" I asked, irritated.
"It's a surprise," he said, smiling. Impulsive as always.
"You know I don't like surprises," I deadpanned.
He gripped my shoulder and gave it a shake. "You'll like this one, promise. Please?"
I looked back down at my coffee and sighed. The rational part of me knew that whatever Jim had come up with would be better than what I'd planned to do with the day, namely continuing to stew in my foul mood. Another part of me was happy to sit there and simmer.
"Bones," he said, softer, lifting his hand from my shoulder to run his fingers through my hair. "You could use the fresh air."
I vaguely motioned out toward our property, the counter-argument obvious, but he and I both knew I'd already given in. "There's plenty of it here," I grumbled anyway.
His hand trailed down to my neck. "Come on." He clapped my back and took my coffee from me as I moved to stand, slowly and with a bit of exaggeration in the effort it took me.
"Spock," I heard him say from inside the house as he brought my mug to the kitchen. "I'm taking Bones out for a while. We'll be back for dinner."
Spock, who last I'd seen had been reading in the front room, replied simply, "Alright, Jim."
I heard them share a kiss as Jim made his way back toward the door. "Love you," Jim said. If Spock said something in return, it was through their bond.
As Jim closed the door and made his way out to his car, clapping my shoulder as he passed, I heard Spock's voice in my mind.
Farewell, k'diwa.
See you tonight.
It wasn't expressed with words, but I felt Spock's heartfelt desire that my excursion with Jim would bring me some peace of mind as I trotted down the steps of our porch.
I'll try, I told him.
Jim had the door to his antique truck open for me, resting his elbow on the ledge of the open window as I approached. I must have looked as listless as I felt, for he clapped my arm again as soon as I was in reach and took me into a big embrace.
"You'll have a good time," he said, swaying us in his excitement.
"I've heard that before," I said, but I couldn't help but relax a little in his arms. "You're not taking me to Yosemite, are you?"
"No," he laughed, pulling back but still holding me by the arms. "No rock climbing, I promise."
The light in his eyes and his sweet smile wore at my irritation. "Okay, Jim."
He pulled me in for a quick kiss, and let me go. "That's the spirit!" He motioned for me to step up into the cab.
"Hm." I took his hand and pushed myself up and in. He closed the door for me and walked around the front of the truck.
Once he'd backed out of the driveway, he asked, "Any requests?" while tapping the radio.
"No," I said, letting my elbow rest on the open window to my right. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you keep it shut off."
"Okay," he said, putting his hand back on the wheel. After a minute or so, he put his hand on my thigh, and I took it in mine, lacing our fingers together. He smiled.
I realized after a while, watching the signs on the highway shoot past, where he was probably taking me. My hometown, or nearabout. It was a couple hours drive from our place. It hadn't been intentional when we'd settled down to be so close, but once we'd found the property, we knew it was right. At least, that's how I remembered it - Jim was the one to find the house, and no matter how many times I asked him, he had yet to admit he'd intended anything by it. Anyway, we wouldn't be there forever - we'd all promised Amanda we'd spend some time with her planetside on her centennial birthday.
I looked over at Jim and gave him a questioning look. I shook his hand on my lap so he'd turn to see me.
He squeezed my fingers and smiled, but said nothing. A surprise, I reminded myself. Alright, then.
I watched the clouds go by, admiring the bright blue sky and the trees hugging the side of the road. Once I was sick of that, I went ahead and turned on the radio, keeping it wherever Jim had left it last. Oldies played, and as we drove on I was lucky enough to hear Jim sing along a few times.
"You've still got it," I told him.
He flashed a smile over at me. "You think so?"
"Of course."
He sang a few more, and eventually we got off the highway.
Spock stopped speaking abruptly. Jim glanced between us, and I could feel his gaze lingering on me as I brought my hand to my face.
“Bones?”
“I can’t do this.” My voice broke. I took in a breath, then another, hoping, praying for the strength I’d need. I felt a familiar resolve form inside me, hard and brimming with anger. It was the only thing that kept me from succumbing to despair.
I stood up. “He doesn’t love me,” I told Jim, my words sharp. I looked back across to Spock. “You don’t love me. You didn’t then, and you don’t now.
“I thought I knew you. I thought after everything we’d put each other through, I thought I’d finally gotten to see who you really were. I thought I knew you like I’d never known another person. And I loved you. I adored you. Not in a million years would I have thought you’d be capable of what you did.”
I could feel his presence - our connection, our bond, having been drawn so thin and far for months while he was away, awoke within me as I approached the house. I was surprised - I hadn’t heard from him or Jim that he’d arrived, but that fell away as more and more of his emotion pooled at the edges of my mind.
There were no words. It was pure feeling. Excitement. Longing. Love, so deep and strong that I was blinking away tears as I parked the car. I turned it off but left everything behind - I had only one purpose.
-
I opened the door. He was standing just inside it, reaching for me as I crossed the threshold. I kicked the door shut, and he touched me - every bit of separation we had endured was gone, everything we felt poured in to each other as we pulled ourselves together, fiercely. His chest was bare, I felt our connection expand as I spread my hands across his back and pressed my face into his neck and shoulder, trying desperately to bring as much of ourselves together as we were able in what was paradoxically both unspeakably overwhelming and a profound relief.
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I followed him into his quarters, my shoulders tensed and my hands balled up to try and keep my anger in check. Of all the reckless, stupid things he’d done on away missions…
The door slid shut behind me, and before I could say a word, Jim turned and put his arms around me, pulling me in to him and holding me tighter than I think he’d ever done.
“Jim,” I breathed, my anger falling away as I felt him take a shaking breath against me. All pretense had vanished.
I looked over my shoulder to see Jim’s face peeking through the door to our office. Seeing that I’d moved, he opened it a bit further so he could rest his shoulder against the doorframe.
“How are you?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
“Not great. Still with fever.”
“Can I get you anything? More water? Some fruit?”
“I’m fine, baby. I was fixing to get some sleep. Or try to, anyway.”
“Okay. Is it too warm in here?”
“It’s fine, Jim.”
“Oh, come on, Bones, there’s got to be something I can do for you.”
I looked up from my PADD from my place on our front porch to see Jim hanging out the side of what could only be, from the size of the damned thing, some sort of RV. I stood up, and after he was sure he’d gotten my attention, he thankfully had the sense to get back behind the wheel as he continued to drive it up to the house.
“Jim, what the hell?” I called out to him. He hadn’t told me he’d be coming back with another antique vehicle, and this was certainly the biggest one to date.
-
“It’s huge!”
“I know,” Jim said, beaming as he stepped out of the cab. He put his hands on my arms and squeezed. “Isn’t it great?”
I looked between it and him, unable to keep myself from sharing in his excitement, just a little. I pulled him in to me and continued taking in the sight over his shoulder.
“It’s old,” I noticed.
“It’s not that old,” he countered, pulling away to pat the side of it. “Just needs a few repairs.”
The sunrise opened up before us, the clouds picturesque in their many shades of color and texture across the arc of the morning sky. I saw Jim’s eyes soften as he took in the view, and before I could say anything to him he put his hand on my knee. I patted his hand before taking it in mine.
We drove in silence a while, before I tapped the dashboard with my knuckles.
“You really do love this old thing, don’t you.”
Jim smiled, glancing over just for a moment before looking back out on to the road ahead. “Yeah.”
I turned back over from switching off the lamp at our bedside. Spock had shifted on to his side, facing away from me, and I settled myself against him, reaching around to hold him to me. He laid his arm overtop, pressing his fingers into the spaces in mine. “Goodnight, darlin’,” I said softly. Goodnight, k’diwa. He took two long breaths before a gentle thrumming emerged from him, at first subtle, but slowly growing stronger as the seconds passed. I smiled against him, sharing in the feeling of comfort we’d cultivated over time. The purring hadn’t always come so quickly.
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// so I’ve been writing a lot of ace attorney wrightworth / narumitsu this week; the anime and the resurgence in the fandom have really done wonders for my creativity, haha. most of it’s been pretty rough, mostly dialogue, and mostly angst-ridden, but today I’ve finally managed to write something that almost resembles proper form (and isn’t horribly sad!!).
this snippit of a scene requires just a bit of setup: (post Dual Destinies) Trucy and Phoenix have invited Mr. Edgeworth over for a movie, specifically the newly released extended cut of The Steel Samurai stage show. (How could he refuse?) They enjoy the film, (and afterwards, the commentary track) before, a little later than they all intended, it’s time to go. Trucy gives her goodnights and leaves Phoenix and Miles to give their own.
"Hey, Edgeworth? Before you go..."
"Hm?"
"I, uh...” There's no going back now, get it together! “I just want to say that I've really enjoyed having you over, lately."
Miles shifted his briefcase handle in his hand and after a (short, but nevertheless anxiety-inducing) moment, he gave me a small, corner-of-the-lips smile, but without any of the smugness that usually came along with it.
"I've enjoyed my time here. Thank you for having me, Wright."
"Yeah, of course," I said quickly, a little relieved I hadn't just said something dumb. "Like I've been saying, you're welcome anytime."
"Thank you. I... appreciate your generosity."
"Nah," I said, rubbing the back of my head, "it's no trouble."
We stood there for a few seconds, Miles watching me put my hand back down to my hip, and I watching his eyes -- that's where the smile really was. He shifted his briefcase in his hand again and, glancing down, gave a polite clearing of his throat.
"I'm sorry," I said, cutting him off before he got the chance to speak. "I'm keeping you. I know you have someone to get home to."
Miles looked back up to me and smiled again, giving a little nod as he turned to the door. "Yes. I hope she will not be too angry with me."
"Pess? No way," I said, reaching around him to turn the handle. "With her temperament, I don't think that's possible."
"You'd be surprised," he told me, stepping over the threshold and turning back around to face me one more time. "She may have... settled, in her old age, but she's still sharp as ever." He smiled fondly, and Edgeworth looked like he could have said more, (I may have brought up his dog with that very intention), but he chose against it, instead deciding to give me a nod in parting.
"Goodnight, Wright."
"'Night, Edgeworth."
"Tell Miss Trucy again that I very much enjoyed our evening. Her taste in films is impeccable."
I laughed a bit. "Will do. She'll be glad to hear it."
With another nod of his head and a smile that went to his eyes, he turned to start down the stairs, and after a little wave, I closed the door behind him.
Spock’s back spasmed quite involuntarily as McCoy’s thumbs pressed deep in to his muscle.
“I knew it,” McCoy muttered to himself, adjusting his footing to better angle his hands in to the hollow between Spock’s shoulder blades.
Most persons would have flexed, their bodies withdrawing, then opening to the relief, though Spock regained his composure and stood perfectly still as the Doctor worked.
“I did not intend to persuade any medical action from you,” Spock said, his voice low, but calm.
McCoy ignored him. “You keep your stress in your neck and shoulders. I’ve noticed it recently, it’s been bothering you when you bend over to take readings.”
Spock said nothing, though he pursed his lips and exhaled sharply as the Doctor’s hands traveled slowly up his spine. McCoy’s fingertips rested at the base of his neck, and Spock could feel the smirk on the Doctor’s face through his touch.
“I assure you this is quite unnecessary,” said Spock.
“Hush.” Gently at first, then with growing pressure, McCoy focused his fingers in to tight circles over Spock’s cervical vertebrae.
Only after examining McCoy’s office to be sure no reflective material would betray him to the Doctor, Spock allowed his eyes to fall, then close. His loose fists slowly opened, then palmed his legs, his fingertips clutching the fabric of his uniform as he willed his heart to stay in rhythm to the steady circling of the Doctor’s fingers, and no faster.
McCoy’s fingers slowed, then flattened against Spock before tapping him softly. “Come sit down. You’re too tall for me.”
Spock drew a breath and turned to face the Doctor. McCoy’s hands fell from him, and he moved to pull out his chair from his working desk.
Spock parted his lips to speak, but was interrupted.
“Sit down.”
“You have already more than adequately–”
“It’s no trouble. Sit down.”
“I do not see how this is medically necessary.”
“Now listen,” McCoy’s eyes flashed, “I’m doing this because of my kind and giving nature, but if you want to talk business, I can put you in for mandatory weekly massage sessions.”
“I would be most appreciative if you did not, Doctor.”
“I thought as much. Now sit.”
Spock silently seated himself in the Doctor’s chair, and lifted his elbows from his lap to rest atop the writing desk, holding his hands together and lacing his fingers tightly.
McCoy positioned himself behind Spock, and placed his hands warmly on the top of his shoulders. “Much better,” he said, smiling. “And, while we’re at it, why don’t you go ahead and take off your shirt?”
Spock turned to stare up in to McCoy’s face with as close to an incredulous expression as his Vulcan nature would allow. McCoy’s smile dissipated and he raised his eyebrows right back at the first officer.
“Just the blue one, you stubborn…” His insult trailed off as Spock’s stare did not falter, his gaze intense, as though Spock were looking straight through his eyes and in to the back of his mind. McCoy’s jaw clenched under the scrutiny, though before his frustration burst in a string of violent mockery, Spock lifted his arms from the desk and pulled his uniform over his head in one smooth movement.
McCoy clapped Spock’s back jovially as the commander turned back to the desk, folding his shirt with practiced precision and placing it neatly on the corner.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” McCoy asked, though he expected no answer as Spock returned his elbows to the table. “Just try and relax, Spock, and I’ll take care of everything.”
He placed his hands atop Spock’s shoulders, feeling the state of the first officer to be most un-relaxed, and sighed to himself as he pulled his thumbs down to press in to Spock’s spine.
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