#implied mcspirk

He can usually tell when Kirk will appear. It would be ironic for Spock to refer to him as an “unnatural presence”, but his very existence at times unnerves Spock. Whether it be the faint marks around his throat (If Spock concentrates he can spy the impressions of large fingers, and he thinks of the hands those fingers belonged to. Spock’s own curiosity almost always propels him to ask *What happened*, but he knows better than to pry.) or the unnatural stillness of his body.

He can feel him watching him. From where Spock isn’t exactly sure, but he is hyper aware of the fact that he isn’t alone.

“Spock!” Is the only real warning he receives before the familiar weight of Kirk’s hand runs through his fur. A small privilege Spock has only recently begrudgingly allowed Kirk in the span of their long friendship. He doesn’t turn to look towards him. Knowing he won’t see anything but the dark line of trees from the forest. It’s pointless to try to look for Kirk. Instead he simply stares out at the dark, vast sea and replies to him in kind.  

“Kirk.” He rumbles in response. He can tell that Kirk has more energy today given the strength of his voice and the heavy weight of his hands on his fur. It’s rather fascinating, he thinks, the faint distinction between the various types of specters. He assumes that because Kirk is a Poltergeist (the word almost always feels strange on his own tongue) that full body apparitions don’t come as easily to him as other specters (or so Kirk says). It’s different, and slightly more comforting than the faint whispers and bone deep chill as his hands pass through his body Spock is used to when Kirk is feeling particularly tired.

They relax against each other in a rather easy silence. From an outsider's perspective it would be a curious sight. A tall, lithe leonine creature with wings tucked neatly (and elegantly) into it’s side. As still a statue as it settles into the sand of the beach while it overlooks the waves of the beach. The air is crisp and uncomfortable around them. Warning them to go no further.

“Bones yelled at me again.” Kirk’s voice is amused as Spock watches a tiny crab scuttle along in front of them.

“You say that as if that isn’t a regular occurrence.”

The crab begins to dig at the sand in front of them. Spock glances to his right where Kirk’s voice is the clearest.

“Do not.” he warns. Poltergeists, he has learned, are very mischievous.

Kirk doesn’t respond, and Spock is suddenly grateful for the thickness of his own fur as the air near his side becomes even colder. A sign that Kirk has decided to settle against him.

“God, you sound like Bones. Not like I was going to punt the little guy.” He almost sounds offended, but Spock can hear the grin in his voice.

It’s Spock’s turn to not respond. Instead he crosses one paw over the over, and lets silence wash over them as easily as the waves lap at the shores of the beach.

Spock doesn’t know how long they’ve stayed pressed against one another. Time is a fleeting memory to him, a distant memory of when he himself was mortal. His species is a nocturnal one. Concerned only with the phases of the moon, and how it affects those under its control. They could have stayed there for minutes or hours, Spock with his eyes halfway closed as he listens to the faint murmurings of Kirk’s voice and the gentle crash of the ocean.

Soon enough he will grow tired as the sun begins to rise. Kirk’s voice and very presence will soon begin to fade into nothingness (or perhaps there is a realm where even Spock isn’t aware of. A place where lost and discarded spirits roam freely and happily. A juvenile thought, he thinks, but a pleasant one.)

He wonders about McCoy. He knows that the gargoyle will soon begin to settle into his roost before the sun begins to rise. Stretching out enormous dark blue wings against the backdrop of the night sky. Perhaps, he’ll visit him once night comes again. And here he goes Kirk is bound to follow.