A Hairy Situation

Pairing: James T. Kirk/Spock
 
Category: Reversebang, Fairy Tale, cliches, crack
 
RATING: PG13
 
Summary: Jim has a bad hair day, a very bad hair day.
 
Notes: This story has more than a few clichés, as those are fun to play with.
 
Written for the Trekreversebang to makowe_pola's absolutely brilliant and cracky artwork (which she have unfortunately taken down). And she did another sketch as well *\0/* - thank you for providing such fine and inspirational artwork *bows deeply*
 
Thank you to the gang at Airdeny Charlets for making insane suggestions during our fannish trip and a huge thank you and shout-out to tartha for her beta - above and beyond what I could have wished for, all the while battling imploding computers and all around red-shirt days. You rock, missy ^_^

"Jim, you need a haircut."

Jim turned around, shooting McCoy a questioning look. "I had one the other day," he said incredulously.

"Didn't do a particularly good job, if you ask me," McCoy answered as he sat down, rolling his eyes at Jim's dinner. Having long since given up arguing with Jim about his eating habits, he didn't say anything. The glare said it all.

Jim fingered the hair in the back of his head and realized that McCoy was right. The strands were definitely longer than he normally preferred. "I guess I have to be more specific next time," Jim admitted, picking up his fork and knife, attacking his steak dinner with gusto. He did this not only because he was starving, but it had the advantage of annoying the hell out of McCoy as well.

"Where's your green shadow?" McCoy asked between bites of his, granted, healthier dinner. Well, it had more green than Jim's did, anyway.

"If you're referring to your superior officer, Mr. Spock, he's got beta shift today." Jim gave McCoy a small grin. "Why? You miss him? I'll tell him that when he swings by my quarters later tonight for a game of chess."

McCoy made a face like he'd bitten into lemon, a look that Jim knew, by now, was mostly out of habit. "It's just; I don't often see you without him."

"Jealous, Bones?" Jim said with a small laugh. "Spock and I are friends, like you and I are - and we do have ship's business to discuss. And we don't have to be on duty to do so."

McCoy snorted. "Ship's business, right."

"Oh, don't you start again, Bones!" Jim growled, losing the good mood he'd had so far.

"All I'm saying is that no one else on this ship gets along with Spock like you do, no one acts as familiar with him as you do." McCoy shrugged. "Even Uhura didn't back when those two were still together."

Jim shook his head. "Leave it be, McCoy, whatever you've heard through the ship's grapevine, I don't want to know."

"What you don't know, you don't have to deal with," McCoy agreed.

"Exactly. It's not like I don't know what people are saying about Spock and me," Jim said with a grin. "Not to mention what they're saying about you and me."

McCoy nearly sprayed Jim with the water that he was drinking. Of course Jim had timed his comment just right.

"Fair enough," McCoy grumbled, giving Jim the stink eye.

Jim winked at him, his good mood returning.


Rubbing his eyes, Jim made his way from the ship's barber toward the bridge. He was still early for his shift, but he'd managed to squeeze in an appointment to have his hair cut. Since Bones had mentioned it, it had annoyed Jim through is late night chess session with Spock and even more so this morning.

Jim ran the tips of his fingers over the shorn hair in the back of the neck and grinned as it bristled against his fingertips.

"Good morning, Captain," Spock greeted him as they both came up to the turbo lift.

"Mornin', Spock," Jim greeted him with a wide grin. It was amazing that after two years in the black, they were so far from what they'd been at the beginning. Friends instead of enemies. "Thank you for an interesting game of chess last night."

"You are most welcome, Captain," Spock replied and if it hadn't been un-Vulcan, it was possible he would have been smirking.

"You have been working on new strategies, huh?" Jim said teasingly as the lift doors opened to let them out onto the bridge.

"With you, Captain," Spock replied as he relieved the lieutenant at the science station with a short nod, "I have learned the merits of ...unorthodox planning."

Jim laughed; feeling like this was a perfect start to the day.


Jim ran his hand through his hair and froze. His shift was almost over and the thought of getting something to eat was blown from his mind when he repeated the move.

"Shit," he muttered to himself.

"Captain?"

Obviously Spock had heard him. Jim turned the chair toward him. He opened his mouth to explain, but the look of surprise on Spock's face stopped him dead.

"Captain, your...."

"I know!" Jim said, tugging at the hair that was now curling down over his ears.

The conversation and possibly the desperation in Jim's voice seemed to have brought attention to them.

"Captain..." Sulu stared at him, as did the rest of the bridge personnel.

"Erm... yeah, I eh..." Jim stuttered to a halt, took a deep breath and stood. "Bridge is yours, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Spock; with me." The order given, Jim headed for the turbolift, not meeting anyone's eye, not wanting anyone to see that he was more than a little worried now.

"Sickbay," Jim ordered when the lift doors closed behind him and Spock.

"Captain, what...," Spock began, his voice low but clear.

Jim held up his hand and gave Spock a small smile. One that didn't come to him as easily as it normally would. "I doubt it's anything bad, Spock, I just want to be sure."

"Do you know what is the cause of...," Spock lifted his hand to reach out, but aborted his move.

Jim ran his fingers self-consciously through his hair. "No, can't say I do."

"Dr. McCoy will know what to do," Spock said quietly, his dark eyes inspiring a level of calm in Jim.

"I hope so, and it's probably nothing, really," Jim said, trying to convince himself more than Spock.


"What the hell have you been up to?" McCoy asked, studying the readings.

"Nothing," Jim said defensively, sitting back on the gurney. He had Bones and Spock making sure that most days he was barely allowed any fun at all. Not that Jim was going to whine about that, because some battles you just couldn't win.

"Well, the hair on your head is growing at a much higher rate than normal," McCoy muttered, "and although you might not find it worrying, I do. Hair is the same material as nails and that means it's drawing on your body's resources, like calcium."

"And?" Jim asked, feeling even more down as he could tell no amount of jest would make McCoy lighten up. Not now, not when he was worried about Jim.

"I'll give you a vitamin supplement that should make up for it, but I'd rather find out why it's happening and stop it." McCoy held up a hypo, inserting the small vial with the supplement. Then he turned to put it against Jim's neck.

Jim winced as the hypo hissed against the skin of his neck. "So would I."

Spock had long since abandoned him, to take care of ship's business and to get ready for his gamma shift. Without him, however, Jim only had McCoy for entertainment and even he shouldn't be pushed too much. Jim knew this, but it was just so damned boring having to sit through test after test. The more still he was supposed to sit, the more restless he became.

Eventually, he had to make his escape, or McCoy would be keeping him overnight.

"Look, Bones, what can happen? It's not like my hair's a sentient being that will kill me in my sleep, right?" Jim squirmed a little, when McCoy didn't answer right away. "Right?"

Bones smirked and Jim wanted so much to hit him.

"No, Jim, it's not sentient, but I want you back down here tomorrow morning, okay? Before you go on duty." McCoy put the tricorder he'd just run over Jim's head down on the table. "I want to see the growth rate."

Jim nodded his agreement, ready to do whatever McCoy wanted if it meant he could avoid staying the night. With a triumphant grin, he escaped sickbay and made his way back to his quarters. Unfortunately tonight wasn't a chess night with Spock having gamma shift and as much as Jim loved McCoy; he'd spent more than enough time with him in sickbay.

Yawning, he let himself in. Maybe McCoy was right. Maybe it was draining him a little. He could only hope that it would be solved quickly - he couldn't even take himself seriously. Jim snorted as he watched his reflection in the bathroom, sticking his tongue out at himself. His hair was now well down over his shoulders. All that from one day's growth.

Shaking his head, Jim took a deep breath and got himself ready for bed.


He was back on the bridge of his ship. The consol was hard underneath his back, Spock's grip was like steel bands around his neck. He was seeing stars and spots, at the center was Spock's beautiful face contorted in blood curdling fury.

"Jim! Please cease your struggles, you are dreaming," Spock said, voice at odds with the furious look.

Jim blinked, staring up at Spock, the calm face he saw every day superimposed over the angry countenance above him. Gasping, he sat up, nearly knocking heads with Spock, who was more or less kneeling over him on the bed. Also, he was in the process of untangling Jim's hair that had now grown past his waist.

"Wha...?" Jim said with a cough, his throat sore.

"You had managed to tangle a great length of the hair around your neck, Captain," Spock answered quietly and Jim became transfixed by Spock's fingers gently pulling at his hair, while he was still kneeling over him. And the hair looked ridiculous to Jim. His normally blonde hair seemed to have an inner glow now, making it seem almost golden, shimmering where it slipped between Spock's long, strong fingers.

Jim fought to keep his breathing even. It wasn't that he and Spock hadn't been in tight quarters before, but Jim wasn't wearing anything but his boxers underneath the sheet and Spock wouldn't have to move much to be straddling him just right... and the knowledge of Spock's ability as a touch telepath didn't exactly escape him either.

"Please desist your squirming, Captain," Spock said mildly, untangling the rest of the hair before, to Jim's mixed relief and regret, he moved to the side of the bed.

"What are you doing in here anyway?" Jim asked curiously.

Spock looked away for a moment, then back, meeting Jim's gaze head on. "Although the design of the Enterprise is enough to prevent sound reaching the human ear through the bulkhead, Vulcan hearing is superior and will pick up seventy five percent more than the human equivalent. The noises emanating from your cabin led me to believe that you were in peril."

Jim's brain was stuck on the fact that Spock could actually hear him through their shared bathroom. He couldn't help flashing on all the times he'd jerked off and wonder just how many times he'd had Spock's name on his lips. And how loudly he'd spoken, or possibly yelled it.

If nothing else, it would definitely put a damper on any future such sessions.

"Is everything alright, Captain?" Spock looked at him, expression almost worried.

"Spock, please. It's 'Jim'. You're on my bed with me in my boxers. Calling me Captain just seems...," Jim waved a hand at him.

bonus art by Markowe_pola

"Very well, ...Jim," Spock conceded hesitantly.

"And I'm OK, don't worry. Just seems that I should've tied the hair back before going to sleep," he said with a small grin. "Or maybe I'm right and the damned stuff has gotten sentient and is now trying to kill me."

"Would it ease your mind if I retrieved my tricorder to analyze the hair?" Spock asked his question in all seriousness.

Jim ducked his head and cleared his throat. "Would you? Bones would laugh at me if I called sickbay to ask for that."

"He would not, Jim... Dr. McCoy worries about you, as the ship's doctor as well as your friend." Spock stood, and turned to leave.

"You don't seem overly worried," Jim said before he could stop himself.

"I... would find it a source of regret should we ignore anything that may threaten your well-being, Capt... Jim," he amended when Jim held up a hand.

Feeling ridiculously comforted, Jim nodded. "Please, a check-up too many is better than one too little. And don't tell Bones I said that!" he called after Spock's retreating form.

Spock returned within a few moments and Jim barely had time to think that maybe he should have grabbed a pair of pajamas bottoms and a shirt - and he quickly forgot the moment Spock returned, running a tricorder over Jim's neck and head.

"There is nothing new to add to Dr. McCoy's previous scans," Spock said quietly, "apart from the fact that the hair seems to be growing at a faster rate than before. It is very soft," he continued, then halted, running his fingers through the hair, "and quite lustrous."

"That's really bad news, Spock," Jim said with a sigh. He tugged at the hair, watching it slip from Spock's fingers. "I really want to cut it off, right here and now."

"There is nothing that prevents you from doing so," Spock said, once again standing from where he was perched on the side of Jim's bed.

Jim stumbled out of bed, following Spock into the bathroom From one of the small storage compartments, Spock produced a pair of scissors and made quick work of Jim's hair. It might not be a fashionable cut, but Jim breathed a sigh of relief when Spock cut the last locks off. He opened his mouth to ask what to do now, and stopped dead. He couldn't help staring at Spock's hands as he sifted through the discarded hair while running the tricorder over it. It was almost obscene the way those long fingers treaded through the hair.

"Fascinating," Spock mumbled to himself.

"What is?" Jim asked, standing close enough to read the tricorder over Spock's shoulder.

Spock turned his head to reply and it seemed they were both a little surprised at how close they were. Jim was, anyway.

Clearing his throat, Spock took a step to the side, holding the tricorder to allow Jim to read it. "It seems upon separation, the hair instantly loses its lusciousness, its shine" Spock stared at the tricorder. "It is possible it would decay within hours."

"So it decays like it grows," Jim said, not able to take his eyes off Spock's face.

"It does," Spock replied. "Its growth and decay cycles are the same, both extremely accelerated."

"Ah, makes me feel so much better," Jim said with a small smile. "Leaves less of a mess behind, I guess."

"How illogical," Spock said. "It is true, but it is of less importance than your health."

Jim's let out a deep sigh. Spock was sort of right about that. And if he was more invested in Jim's health than in the scientific readings and facts, then Jim was in deep shit.

"I shall bid you goodnight, Jim. I'll bring the readings to Doctor McCoy so that we may see if they have any influence on his tests." Spock folded the tricorder shut.

"Yeah... um, you do that, I'll just...," Jim pointed over his shoulder, incapable of looking away all of the sudden.

"Get some rest, you have gamma shift," Spock said, not unkindly.

"Yeah, that's what I'll do." Jim grinned widely. As much as he hated the current situation, he kinda liked having a nocturnal meeting with Spock, even if it didn't entail what he'd usual fantasize about.

"Goodnight..., Jim," Spock said with a small nod, leaving for his own quarters through the bathroom door.

"Night, Spock," Jim said, long after the door had slid shut.


"Is there anything out of the ordinary that you can remember might have happened on the last planet we went to?"

This was just one in a long series of questions Jim had been trying to answer. Just one of many, that McCoy kept throwing at him, expecting him to remember insane details.

"Look, Jim. We let you beam down to the last planet after you'd promised you'd be careful, not have sex with anyone or anything, not touch anything alien, flora or fauna...," McCoy ranted on.

"Get off your high horse, Bones. And what's that about 'letting me'!?" Jim crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them, when he realized it made him look like a petulant child.

"Don't think I didn't hear the speech Spock gave you after the last three away missions. And before the last one," McCoy added.

"Okay, okay, so Spock felt that I had to be read the riot act after a couple of missions where I may or may not...," Jim began defensively.

"Jim, you get hurt more than any other crew members," McCoy said, looking outraged. "And why is it, when I read you the riot act you blow me off, but when the pointy eared elf does, you tell him yes, sorry, of course you will be more careful?! Not that it's kept you out of harm's way this time around."

"Why are you so sure that it was something on the planet?" Jim asked petulantly, ignoring McCoy's accusations.

"Because that's the only place you've been just prior to this shit starting." McCoy gestured at Jim's hair that had by now re-grown to reach the seat of his pants. "It's the only way I can narrow it down, because the rest of the crew aren't having your problem, now are they?"

"Look, Bones, seriously, I don't...," Jim hesitated, for once really doing as McCoy was asking. Thinking back, trying to remember if anything out of the ordinary had happened.

"Jim?"

"Would...," Jim began, rubbing the tip of his index finger against his thigh. "Remember I said I'd pricked my finger on a plant on the last mission? You ran a few scans and told me not be such a baby - then we beamed back up?"

"I hope if that's the case, the plant's among the collected samples," McCoy said. "And I'll willingly shoot myself in the head if a plant is what did this - because I should've noticed when I did the scan."

"I don't know, but I guess the botanical lab is still processing them? There were a lot of samples, according to Sulu, so I figure the staff will be logging stuff for the next couple of months," Jim admitted.

"Would you be able to recognize it?" McCoy asked.

Jim shrugged. "I'll go down there and have a look - but there were a lot of them."

In the end it took him roughly two hours to chase down the flower that he was nearly a hundred percent sure had been the one he'd pricked his finger on - a bright yellow flower, no more than a foot high. After getting what the lab had on it so far, he made sure McCoy got the available results before Jim followed his stomach's demands for dinner - alpha shift coupled with McCoy's tests meant he was past due for something to eat.

Eventually, because obviously McCoy didn't trust him, he had not only Spock for a dinner companion, but the doctor as well. And in his point of view, that meant dinner harassment. With Jim as the victim.

"So, I've set the computer to run some more tests on the flower," McCoy said. "And if it does turn out to be the culprit, you're not going on any more away missions. Seriously, Jim."

"And we're back to the 'letting' me go on missions, Bones." Jim sighed deeply and tried to enjoy his replicated meal. "I'm the captain; I'm in charge of this ship."

Spock put his fork down and gave Jim a level stare. "Captain, I have mentioned time and time again, that regulations state..."

"I know the regs!" Jim said, feeling outraged. "I'm not stupid."

"And you still refuse to do what other captains do without arguing," McCoy all but growled.

"The plant you said you touched," Spock began.

"It touched me!" Jim defended himself.

The look they both gave him made him huff, and cross his arms, staring annoyed into his food.

"You're both touched," Bones muttered to himself.

"Did you point it out among the samples brought aboard?" Spock asked.

"Yeah," Jim replied.

"I take it you were careful not to touch it again," Spock stated evenly.

"Yeah, I'm not stupid." He gave McCoy a stern look. "You, shut it, and Commander Spock, the plant's being examined, now can I please eat my dinner?" With that, he set about ignoring the both of them, annoyed that his meal was now lukewarm at best.


Jim almost wished he was the sort of man to hide behind a medical order to stay off the bridge. He was sure if he milked it enough, he might be able to swing a medical order from Bones. Of course, a. Jim wasn't like that and b. it was already too late.

Obviously the ship's grapevine had been working overtime, and coupled with the fact that although he'd had his hair cut prior to his shift, everyone was watching him out the corners of their eyes. Of course, now, close to the end of the shift, Sulu had run out of stupid hair jokes - either that, or he was having second thoughts about sharing them now that Jim had a pair of scissors that he'd ordered yeoman Rand to fetch for him.

Thankfully it was a quiet day, because before long, Jim was completely focused on the task of watching hair grow - cutting it off, and watching it grow again - by the time Spock came to relieve him, Jim had to admit, however reluctantly, that the whole hairy situation was beginning to take on ridiculous proportions. His hair was reaching the floor again, there were piles of hair around the chair, and Rand had already removed twice the amount, dust pan and small brush in hand. And she'd obviously grown progressively more worried each time.

The whimpering escaping Jim probably hadn't helped.

Jim looked up at Spock and what a sight he must have been. Hair all over the place, pair of scissors in one hand, and a thick handful of hair grasped in the other. Not to mention the pleading expression he knew was on his face.

"Spock," Jim begged, "make it stop!"

"You need rest, Captain," Spock merely told him, waiting for him to stand.

"Huh?" Jim blinked at him blearily. Maybe Spock was right - because Jim was beginning to feel a little strained from all this. McCoy's vitamin shots did a world of good, but they couldn't get him through the whole day.

"We may have an antidote, but we cannot risk testing it on you until you are sufficiently rested."

"Gimme," Jim demanded, finally feeling like things were going his way.

"When you are rested," Spock repeated, not unkindly.

Jim pouted at him, knowing it wouldn't work. The knowledge was supported by the usual lift of Spock's eyebrow that clearly said Jim should stop being an ass and start acting like a starship captain.


Had Jim known just how bad his time in sickbay would be, he might not have been in such a hurry to get there and let Bones lose on his neck with an army of hypos and experimental antidotes.

Three hours and five injections down the road, Jim had had more than enough. The first one had made him nauseous, the second itchy, the third and fourth had somehow made him see floating colorful spheres, while the fifth, the one McCoy had just administered pretty much did what the first four had - just at the same time. None of them managed to stop Jim's hair from growing, though.

The result was Jim so not being in the mood to play McCoy's guinea pig for any longer.

"What do you mean, you've got more?" Jim asked, cradling the insane amount of hair to his chest as he stepped back, away from McCoy.

"I need a couple more injections before we can tell why it's not working, Jim," McCoy said, obviously trying to be patient.

"Nuh-uh," Jim said, aiming for the door.

"Now, Jim...," McCoy said soothingly.

"No, no way, nyet, never in a million years, damn it, Bones!" Jim turned and fled, running out the door and down the corridor, hair slippery in his hold and constantly getting in his way. On a normal day, he wouldn't have cared how the crew saw him, as they jumped for their lives to get out from his path, but today wasn't an ordinary day, now was it?

"God damn it, Jim, don't be such a baby!" McCoy hollered after him, pursuing him down the corridor, brandishing a hypo in either hand.

Jim just sped up, stumbling around the corner, trying not to trip in the hair that kept escaping his grip.

Around the corner, however, was an immovable object, most days referred to as his second in command. For a moment, it was as if gravity had been suspended, and Jim foresaw a painful meeting between his ass and the floor. Of course, as with most other days, Spock had his back(side) and Jim was grabbed by the shoulders, hauled back to his feet before said expected painful accident.

"Good, Spock, you 'found' him," McCoy panted as he caught up with them. "Jim, you damned imbecile, get back to sickbay."

"Bones, come on, you've tried several serums already, I'm tired, itchy, hungry, not to mention I'm ten seconds from throwing up," Jim said tiredly, not caring that there was a little bit of a whine to his voice.

"I trust you have the readings so far, Doctor," Spock said before McCoy could argue and drag Jim back to sickbay. "The captain is expected to take part in a diplomatic meeting tomorrow at 0700 hours."

"I am?" Jim asked. He didn't recall any meeting scheduled.

"This is why I came to find you, Captain," Spock replied, "we have orders from Starfleet to proceed to the mining colony on Signy IV, where we are mediating between the miners and the colony's main board of directors."

"Spock, I'm not exactly in a state to meet or mediate," Jim said, hefting his hair to get a better grip. A large portion of it was escaping his grip, but Spock caught it easily enough. "What's so important about Signy IV that the fleet would send us?"

"Signy IV is a dilithium mine," Spock answered.

"Aw, shit," Jim said with a sigh. After the loss of so many ships at the destruction of Vulcan, Starfleet was continuously fighting to mine enough dilithium to rebuild and strengthen the fleet of ships being build. "I get it," he said with a sigh. Loud and clear.

"But Jim," McCoy began.

"Bones, you know as well as I do that we can't afford to lose a dilithium contract," Jim said, for a moment pushing his own constantly growing problem into the background. While the admiralty so far seemed pleased enough with his captaincy, it wouldn't only look bad to fuck up mining negotiations, it could also spell trouble for the future of the fleet, losing another opportunity to attain the much needed dilithium.

Spock gave him a nod of approval. "If it will ease your mind, Doctor, I shall accompany the Captain to his quarters, make sure he eats and rests and is briefed for tomorrow's meeting. I shall also be at his side during the meeting and I'll do my utmost to make the mediations as short as possible."

McCoy gave him a hard stare. "Short... unlike Jim's hair." He laughed once, then harrumphed. "OK, I'll trust you on this one, but I want him back in sickbay before the meeting, to check the readings," he said quickly, when Jim opened his mouth to argue. "And I'll send what I have so far to your PADD, Spock, see if you can make sense of it."

"I shall, Doctor, do not stress yourself," Spock replied.

"I'm always stressed when it comes to Jim," McCoy said, without the usual sarcasm.

For once, Jim felt a little guilty about making McCoy's work more difficult, but he couldn't help himself, he had a low tolerance for hypos. Not to mention McCoy's fondness for using them on him.

"Get some rest, Jim," McCoy said, handing over a medical tricorder to Spock. "See if you can't get some readings when you've tucked Rapunzel here into bed."

"Oh, ho, ho, you're so fucking funny," Jim snorted, but he could do little more, as Spock merely nodded and started walking. While still carrying some of Jim's hair. Which only left Jim to follow of course, or get yanked along and wouldn't that give passing crew even more to look at?

Leaving McCoy to return to sickbay, Jim followed Spock to his own quarters and let them in.

"Look, Spock, you don't have to," Jim began, when Spock seated him by his desk and proceeded to enter the order for Jim's dinner into the replicator.

"I know, Jim, but I want to and while you eat, I will brief you on tomorrow's meeting. This way you will be able to withdraw for the night earlier." Spock put down a bowl of something fluorescently orange and a plate of toast. He put the same, minus toast, in front of the seat on the other side of the desk.

Jim stared at the garish concoction. "Eh, Spock...?"

"This is plomeek soup," Spock explained, "according to the readings you are in need of protein and calcium, in both of which the broth is rich."

"And the toast?" Jim asked, trying not to laugh.

"I have it from a reliable source that many humans are quite fond of toast with their soup." He sat down.

Jim took the spoon and stared at Spock.

"My mother was very fond of toast with her soup," Spock amended. "When I asked her, she said it was her preference, and nothing out of the ordinary for a human."

Jim looked down at the soup, then back up to meet Spock's eyes. "Your mother was a smart woman," he said with a wink and spooned up a little soup, tentatively tasting it. "Hmm, not bad," he admitted, "not bad at all," he continued, dunking a piece of toast into the soup. He was quick enough to catch the pleased look on Spock's face. Well, what passed as pleased for the Vulcan, anyway.

While they ate, Spock gave him the information from the mining colony. Granted, it wasn't much, but it seemed to be a bad case of miscommunication between the board of directors and the workers' union as far as Jim could tell. As Jim read though the lists of people that he would be speaking with, Spock cleaned away their empty bowls and plates. He also, to Jim's surprise, retrieved a pair of scissors, and like the night before, he set about cutting Jim's hair off.

"To allow you at least some sleep tonight, without too much interference from your... predicament," Spock explained.

"Thanks," Jim said, quietly. He watched as Spock gathered his hair and put it into the garbage disposal. It wasn't lost on him the way Spock let the tresses slip through his fingers. Nor was the fact that as Spock had finished cutting the back of Jim's hair, his fingers had brushed against Jim's neck and sent shivers down his spine.

It would take the most inept touch telepath to not notice how much Jim was enjoying it, but Jim couldn't bring himself to worry about it.

Jim was sure he could feel the hair growing as he rubbed his fingers through it. "Oh shit, Spock, it's already growing," he said with a defeated sigh.

Spock reached for the scissors again, but Jim shook his head.

"At this rate I should just shave it the fuck off," he growled.

"It is one possibility," Spock said, holding the scissors up.

"What? Shaving it?" Jim asked, intrigued.

"It will not stop nor slow the process, but if it would make you feel better for a time, I see no reason for not doing so," Spock said, head cocked to the side.

"Oh, erm...," Jim stared at him. "I mean, it's a little late in the ship's day to go to the barber and ask him to remove it," he said slowly. "And although I'm flexible and capable of a lot, I don't think shaving my own head is a talent I have. At least not without hurting myself," he added with a short laugh.

"As with the cutting, I am more than willing to aid you, Jim," Spock said quietly, intense and dark eyes set on Jim, never wavering.

Couldn't really hurt letting Spock help him, now could it? His competent first officer should be able to do this. "Do Vulcans even shave?" Jim asked before he could stop himself.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "I can assure you, that although my facial hair does not grow as fast as that of humans, I do shave." He watched Jim for a moment. "I do, however, not use a machine for it, but foam and shaving blade."

"Oh, I haven't done that in years!" Jim said, perking up.

"Have you shaved your head previously?" Spock asked curiously.

"God, no!" Jim laughed out loud. "But I went through a rebellious age where I decided it was just badass enough for me to shave like that." He grinned, "I have to admit I haven't done it in ages because it takes me too long."

"If you are amendable...," Spock began.

"Oh, I am," Jim said quickly, then realized that maybe he came across a little too eager. "I, erm, I mean," Jim tried. Taking a deep breath, he shot Spock a quick smile. "Thanks, Spock."

"You are welcome, Jim."

And this was how Jim found himself, five minutes later, sitting on a chair he'd brought into the bathroom, with Spock standing behind him, cutting the hair again before he covered Jim's head in shaving foam, carefully distributing it to cover Jim's head. It was a strange feeling, a little too cool, but not really cool enough as Jim could feel his face flush. It was one thing to do this - it was an act of intimacy, it was quite another to know that this was Spock, who was currently spending an insane amount of time, rubbing his fingers over Jim's head.

Jim tried hard not to recall his xenobiology lessons on Vulcans and their sensitive hands, because that would just send his mind down a road that could only lead to him embarrassing himself in front of Spock. And that was the last thing he wanted to do. He had to retain some kind of deniability. At least for as long as possible.

He lazily watched the blade appear out the corner of his eye and if it had been anyone but Spock, he might have started a bit, but he trusted Spock more than he'd ever trusted people in the past. Especially with sharp objects.

The blade was obviously sharp, because there was barely any resistance to feel as it glided over Jim's head in a steady, almost mesmerizing way. It took no time before Jim was lulled into a state of nothing but the feel of Spock's hand holding his head still and the feel of the blade scraping over his skin.

Jim twitched when Spock suddenly wiped a warm, wet towel over his head, leaving behind chills as air hit his exposed skin. Looking up at him, Jim was surprised to see the intense dark eyes watching him like a hawk would watch prey.

"You should rest," Spock said, stepping away abruptly, and Jim noticed the slight coloring of darker green on Spock's cheeks.

Jim stood and followed, taking the blade gently from Spock's grasp to put it down on the counter next to the sink. He then drew a deep breath and not for the first time in his life he leapt without looking, hoping for the best. Taking Spock's hand, he pushed it over his bald head. It was a hell of a lot shorter than he'd normally have it, but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the unruliness it had been all day.

Spock's hand was still for a moment, then he curved his fingers behind Jim's head and held on. He didn't move forward, nor did he break eye contact with Jim.

They stood like this for what felt like ages and Jim couldn't get himself to break the moment. Quite frankly, if it wasn't for him being dead on his feet, he would have loved to take another leap. Then again, he couldn't rush things with Spock, he knew that. Hell, he didn't want to rush things. A thought that should have sent him running for the hills but strangely didn't. There wouldn't be a second chance if he blew this, and this was one scenario he would never accept as a no-win.

For a moment it was as if Spock was leaning in, then he stopped, righted himself and let go of Jim.

Jim wanted very much to think that Spock was reluctantly doing so, because that would just be awesome. And he was right, damn it. He had to be.

"Get some rest, Jim," Spock said quietly as he let go of Jim and stepped toward their shared bathroom. "I shall come by in the morning to pick you up for the meeting."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you." He hesitated, wondering if he was going too fast. "Feel free to slip through the bathroom - you know you're always welcome here."

Spock turned to look at him, his features softening a little. With a nod, he disappeared into the bathroom and Jim turned to his bed and fell onto it, face first into the pillow, grinning like an idiot.


So, Jim's morning started out quite good (if one ignored that he had to have his hair cut off again), because Spock showed up right on time, using their shared bathroom. This, to Jim, spoke volumes as to Spock's trust in him.

Jim would have enjoyed it even more, if he'd known that the day would pretty much go downhill from there.

First off, they were supposed to have the meeting on board the Enterprise, but when they'd arrived and entered standard orbit around the planet, the board members as well as the representatives of the workers requested, well, demanded, really, that the meeting take place at the colony.

Jim, wanting to start off on a good foot, agreed and he and Spock went to the transporter room to get ready to beam down.

"Captain, you should report to sickbay upon our return," Spock said conversationally, "I believe Mr. Scott and I have found the culprit of your problem."

"Scotty?" Jim asked with surprise. "His area of expertise isn't exactly botanical or medical."

"That is true," Spock agreed, looking almost smug, "however, he and I tested the effect of our transporter technology upon the plant and it does seem to enhance some of the protein strings in the plant, causing the root of your current predicament."

"So you're saying you have a solution?" Jim itched to run straight to sickbay right away. He may just have had his hair cut five minutes earlier, but he was sure he could feel it growing. And even more so, it seemed the more he had it cut the faster it grew back.

Spock, obviously reading his body language as well as ever, shook his head. "It is necessary to cultivate the antidote, and Dr. McCoy wants to test it before it is administered to you. However, he is cautiously optimistic that he will have it ready for you within the next twenty-four hours."

Jim closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a sigh. "At least we'll be busy for the next long while with the negotiations," he agreed. He really wanted it over with, but at least a solution was within reach.

"Sirs," Lieutenant Saunders piped in from his place at the controls, "we have received coordinates for your meeting."

"Good," Jim said with a nod. "Energize."

The transporter room dissolved around them, then re-solidified, then flickered out of existence again. A moment later, they rematerialized in a dark place.

"Eh," Jim said, blinking, trying to see anything.

"Captain, I do not believe we have arrived at the correct meeting place," Spock said quietly.

"Oh, that's very observant of you," Jim said with a snort. "I guess with such a good start of the day it was bound to go to hell eventually."

"Captain?" Spock asked.

"Never mind," Jim said, reaching out through the darkness.

A hand closed around his elbow and Jim started.

"It's me, Jim, don't worry. I can see more than you can, and the ground is uneven so I suggest you move only with great care," Spock warned him.

"Where are we?" Jim asked, relaxing minutely.

"I do not know our location," Spock began, "but from what I can tell, we are in a tunnel. Possibly in the dilithium mine."

Jim rubbed his eyes as they finally adjusted, realizing that he was seeing a faint trace of light. "Spock, is it just me or is one direction more light than the other?"

"There is more light," Spock agreed, leading Jim onward. "There is also a small draft."

"And of course our communicators aren't making it through," Jim said with a sigh, activating his, not at all surprised when the dull, chirping noise it made told him that communications were deader than a dead thing.

"It seems we are either too far underground, or some composite in the rock around us is causing interference," Spock said, the sound of his communicator echoing Jims.

"Fantastic," Jim said drily. "Somehow I don't think we're here by accident."

"I believe you may be correct," Spock agreed. "Something interfered with the transporter signal."

"So we're lucky that we even materialized?" Jim asked, part jest, part seriously.

Spock's lack of reply spoke volumes.

"Oh." Jim rubbed a hand down over his face.

"We do not possess enough evidence to theorize as to why," Spock said.

"Yeah, would've been nice to have someone here to gloat and monologue," Jim said with a small smile.

"Monologue, Captain?" The question was clear in Spock's voice.

"Never mind, Spock. Just remind me to educate you on the art of cliché," Jim replied with a small laugh.

"All in good time, Captain, first we have to get out of here," Spock replied.

They walked for what felt like ages and eventually, Jim had to grab onto Spock's arm instead of the other way around as he stumbled for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Um, Spock? I think my hair... is growing ridiculously fast." Jim fought with his free hand to gather his hair as it kept getting caught on protruding rocks.

Spock guided him to a stop and Jim shivered when cool fingers threaded through the ever-growing hair.

"It is indeed growing as we speak, Jim, at a much faster rate than previously." Spock helped him gather the hair as Jim tried several times to do so on his own. "We can only hope that the hypo with additional nutrients administered by Dr. McCoy this morning will keep you on your feet long enough to get through this."

"You really think it could damage me?" Jim asked quietly.

"Long term, yes," Spock admitted.

Jim realized that Spock's fingers were still in his hair, rubbing along his skull. "Spock...."

"Later, Jim, I'm... sorry," Spock said quietly.

"For what?" Jim noticed that whatever Spock was saying, his hand was still in Jim's hair.

"For such poor impulse control," Spock admitted, slowly moving his fingers through Jim's hair. "It is simply... this is so luscious and soft and...."

"You've got impulse control in spades," Jim said with a soft laugh, regret tingeing his voice. If he'd had less self esteem, he might've worried that Spock was only interested in him for his hair.

"I must disagree, at least when it comes to you," Spock admitted.

"Are you ashamed of it?" Jim had to ask.

"I... Captain," he said, retracting his hand.

Jim grabbed for it in the dark, nearly losing his hold on his ridiculously armload of hair. Closing his hand around the cool, dry skin of Spock's, he stopped, stumped for words.

"We should get out of here, Captain, and back to our ship," Spock said, obviously having regained his composure.

Jim let out a long sigh, seemed like he just couldn't catch a break - or a break in Spock's armor. "Okay, but this conversation isn't over."

Spock didn't answer, merely transferred Jim's hand to his own arm and continued to lead him forward, toward whatever increase in light there might be.

Jim went quiet for a little while longer. As much as he enjoyed spending time alone with Spock, this wasn't his idea of fun, and he itched to bring up the night before, itched to ask Spock if he'd been about to kiss him and even more importantly, what he'd have done if Jim had kissed him first.

Grinning to himself, Jim rolled his eyes. If he continued down that mental road, he'd be indistinguishable from a fourteen year old school girl, for fuck's sake!

"I am curious as to what you are currently considering humorous about our situation," Spock said evenly.

Jim felt his face flush and cursed himself. "It's your fault," he said instead of answering. "Talk to me. If we have a conversation, I won't have to entertain myself. "

"If you wish to have a conversation, it does, as you'd say, 'take two to tango'," Spock replied, his voice as even as ever.

Jim's startled laugh rang out through the darkness. "Spock," he said, feeling a lot more at ease all of the sudden, realizing just how tense he'd made himself. "Don't ever change."

"I have no intention of doing so," Spock said quietly, stopping Jim again to wind more of his hair around his arms and shoulders to keep it off the floor.

Jim wished he had a pair of scissors so he could get rid of the damned hair, but even with Spock's keen eyesight being so good in the dark, he wasn't sure if there was anything they could use instead, and by now he'd almost gotten used to the heaviness of it.

Time passed as they walked through endless tunnels, and occasionally they would come by cracks in the rock that let in air and a little light, so at least they weren't heading deeper into the mine. Of course, the communicators still weren't working.

After what felt like ages, but Spock kept reassuring him had been no more than three hours, fifty three minutes, Spock pulled him to a stop.

"I hate being in the dark," Jim grumbled, "both literally and metaphorically," he added with a snort. "And why are we stopping?"

"There is an increase in the light up ahead," Spock said quietly as he once again led Jim forward, hand cupped around his elbow.

Jim followed, still stumbling here and there, completely off balance by all the damned hair, as it slipped from his grip and snagged on protruding rocks.

"How long have we been in here?" he asked as they rounded a ragged edge of the tunnel.

"Three hours, thirty six minutes, 5 seconds," Spock replied.

Jim thought it was quite nice of him not to mention that Jim had asked the same question a few minutes earlier.

Spock suddenly stopped, pulling Jim back hard, which resulted in Jim's back plastered against Spock's front. And Jim froze where he was, surprised by his instant reaction to the feel of hard muscles pressed against him. Meaning his body connected it with the possibility of sex. Preferably right on the spot.

"There is a fissure right in front of us, step carefully," Spock warned him.

Jim stared ahead and realized that it was lighter near the ground ahead of them. The air was fresher as well he realized when he took a deep breath.

"It seems to be night outside," Spock said, holding Jim back as he leaned forward to look down through the hole.

"What can you see?" Jim asked curiously.

"There's a drop of roughly 18-20 meters onto uneven terrain," Spock said, stepping back from the hole.

"So, no jumping," Jim said sardonically.

"I would advise against it, especially in the dark," Spock agreed straight laced. "Even in daylight it would be quite inadvisable, though the fissure is wide enough to allow us through."

Jim rolled his eyes, the idea unfolding in his mind. "And I was the one not wanting any Rapunzel jokes," he said with a deep sigh.

"Jim?" Spock's voice was puzzled, but at least he still hadn't let go of Jim, which Jim counted in his favor.

"You really need to learn your fairytales, Spock," Jim said with a mirthless laugh. "How long is my hair by now?"

Spock pulled the hair out of his grasp and stepped back along the way they had come. "I would say roughly five meters."

"So, if we wait until it's light out and use my hair to climb out?" he asked.

"It is hard to say for sure how long it will be before the sun rises," Spock mused, "and using your hair, while possible, we should need to braid it to make it strong enough to hold our weight - but if we split it into two, it should be possible."

"Braiding it would shorten its reach," Jim admitted, "but you said yourself, it's growing fast."

"We shall wait until there is more light outside," Spock agreed, testing their communicator again. "Our communicators do not seem to be working here either."

"If it's something in the rocks," Jim said with a shrug, "then we'll probably have to get away from here before we can make contact with the ship."

Jim gathered his hair back up and stepped back from the draft coming from the hole in the ground. It wasn't cold as such, but the draft would be chilly very fast. He sat down, back to the rough wall and looked over where he could see the silhouette of Spock. "Come on," he said, "sit down."

For a moment, Spock stayed where he was, then the shadow moved and Jim grinned to himself as Spock sat down next to him, close enough that their arms touched.

"I once again fail to see the humor in our situations," Spock said.

"Oh, it's not humor," Jim said, taking the chance and leaning a little closer to him. "I just like spending time with you Spock, and if I had to be stuck down here with anyone, I'm pretty damned glad it's you."

Spock didn't answer him, but he didn't try to lean away from Jim either, and Jim counted that as a hell of a win.

"So," Jim said quietly, "here we are, waiting for the sun to rise and my hair to grow." He chuckled to himself. "I can't believe the situations we get into."

Spock shifted a little closer. "I believe you are right," he admitted, "I believe many would consider them bordering on the ridiculous, however dire they may sometimes be."

"Hell, yeah," Jim said with a grin, "our adventures are the stuff legends are made of."

"Indeed," Spock agreed.

"Or, you know, fairytales," Jim said with a snigger. He couldn't stop himself, and to tell the truth, it was like watching a train wreck... while strapped to the front of the speeding train itself. "Maybe I just need a kiss from my prince," he continued. He nudged Spock lightly, "Does that make you Prince Charming?"

"According to most, I do not believe I would be considered 'charming', nor am I royalty," Spock replied evenly.

Jim laughed out loud. "I don't know, Mr. Spock, you are the son of the leading House, and your father's not exactly a no-name."

They sat quietly for a moment before Jim heard Spock draw in breath, as if to say something, then obviously regretting it.

"Say what is on your mind, Spock, you know you don't have to hold back with me," Jim said quietly.

Spock cleared his throat. "I am at loss to comprehend your intentions," he admitted, "If I were to analyze your words, combined with the knowledge of your personality, I would wonder if you are indeed wanting me to...," he trailed off, which in itself was very unlike Spock.

Jim turned his head, breathing in the familiar scent of Enterprise life, and the more alien scent of his first officer. "Yes." He didn't even phrase it as a question, willing Spock to get it, to believe in it.

"Jim, I..." Spock said, his voice barely audible.

"Just," Jim whispered, savoring the burst of Spock's breath against his face, "just, let me."

The 'yes' from Spock was almost inaudible, but Jim got it nevertheless, swallowing anything that might have followed after by closing his mouth over Spock's. Losing himself in the feel of Spock's lips, Jim closed his eyes, humming happily.

It was the most amazing moment ever, and it only got better when Spock's fingers tangled in the long hair, tips brushing the nape of Jim's neck, causing him to shiver violently.

Breaking the kiss, their foreheads still touching, Jim couldn't get himself to open his eyes.

"Are you cold, Jim?" Spock asked.

A small laugh escaped Jim. "No, Spock, I'm not, I'm just... easily excited when I'm around you."

"Ah." Spock went quiet for a moment. "Is that... a good thing?"

This time Jim did laugh out loud. "Oh yeah, it is now..., that you know how I feel about you." He trailed off, "I mean, you do know, right?"

Spock was quiet for a long time and Jim felt the jitters stirring in the pit of his stomach. They multiplied as Spock ran a hand up along the shell of his ear.

"I would not presume, nor intrude...," Spock mumbled.

"You're not!" Jim let out a soft laugh. He reached up to mirror Spock's touch, running a finger along Spock's ear and this time it was Spock's turn to shiver.

"When we return, to the ship, will you allow me to...," Spock began, his fingers lingering at Jim's temple.

"Oh, hell yeah," Jim said, feeling relieved at not having to say how he felt. Pretty nifty considering he was shit when it came to talking about his feelings. He'd just have to make sure he showed Spock when they got back. And oh boy, was he planning on showing him.

"Jim!" Spock sounded like he was torn between outrage and intrigue, obviously getting the gist.

"Yeah, that's me, alright," he said with a self-satisfied air.

The burst of air against Jim's face made him grin widely. Yeah, Spock had a sense of humor, alright. Jim's smile was broken by a yawn, and Jim realized just how tired he was.

"You should rest, Jim, the rapid growth is drawing on your body's resources," Spock said quietly, wrapping his arms around Jim, holding him close.

"I hate admitting that I am tired," Jim said, yawning again.

"Then feel free to rest, I shall keep watch," Spock said quietly.

Jim snuggled up to Spock and much to his surprise, Spock made an extremely comfortable pillow. It didn't take long before he fell asleep, hand resting on Spock's chest, while Spock carded his fingers through Jim's hair, pads rubbing against his scalp in soothing motions.


Jim came back to consciousness wondering if he'd been drooling on Spock's shoulder, but the worry died in its infancy, as he realized there was a lot more light. Looking around, he could see the rough sides of the tunnel, and even more so, he could easily see the opening that led outside.

"Good morning, Jim," Spock said quietly, and Jim could feel the vibrations of his speech under his ear.

"Oh, it is," Jim agreed. Sitting up, he immediately missed Spock's warmth. The place was chill. "And ready to make it better by getting out of here."

"Absolutely," Spock agreed. "I have taken the liberty of cutting, dividing and braiding your hair already. The natural rock here can be split into sharp pieces much like flint rock, but I fear you shall need a barber to make it anywhere near presentable."

"Oh man, Spock. I must've slept like a rock," Jim said, feeling a little embarrassed. "And don't worry, I don't care what my hair looks like, as long as we get the hell out of here."

"Very well," Spock said. "And you needed the rest, Jim," he assured him. "Allowing you to sleep was the sound option."

Spock stood and helped Jim to his feet and they fastened the hair to a big rock sticking out of the tunnel wall, next to the hole. Dumping the long braid down, Jim sighed when he could tell it wasn't long enough to reach the ground.

"It is close enough," Spock said. "It will not mean a drop of more than a meter and a half. Allow me to go down first."

"I really wanna get out of here," Jim said with a huff, as Spock slid over the edge, slowly making his way down the rope. "It will hold, right?"

"Of course," Spock replied. "Hair braided in such a fashion is extremely durable."

"Good, it can handle us both," Jim said, feeling weird standing in the dark tunnel on his own. He wanted out.

"Jim, patience is a virtue," Spock called back, but he didn't argue as such.

"Yeah," Jim called down as he slipped over the edge as well, gripping the braided hair. "One that I don't possess."

"I had not noticed," Spock replied drily.

"Hah, anyone claiming Vulcans have no sense of humor, is obviously lying," Jim said with a snort.

"There is no need to insult me," Spock said.

Jim huffed a laugh. The next second he was startled by the chirping sound of his communicator. In fact, he was so startled, he lost his hold on the rope, falling several feet. Right down to Spock's position, where Spock's quick reflexes caught him by the waistband, causing the pants to the tear half an inch.

"Shit!" Jim exclaimed, fumbling out his communicator. "Enterprise, two to beam up, now."

The transporter engaged around them at the same moment that the last stitch on Jim's pants ripped entirely.

"Umph!" Jim landed rather inelegantly on the transporter platform. Looking up, of course Spock had materialized standing on both his feet.

"Will there ever come a day where you don't rip your uniform to pieces?" McCoy drawled from where he was looming over Jim, running a tricorder up and down his body.

"Nah, I try to keep up ship morale by showing enough of my gorgeous body to as many people as possible," Jim retorted.

The 'hmph' from Spock drew his attention, and Jim grinned widely. If it all went to plan, he would be showing Spock a hell of a lot more than any of the other crewmembers ever saw. Well, except for Bones, probably, as he'd seen just about everything Jim had to offer.

"So," Jim said, as he stood, gathering the torn pieces of his pants at his waist. "Anyone care to tell me what's been going on?"

"Your signal got diverted," McCoy explained, as he held up a hypo and unceremoniously jabbed it into Jim's neck. "Seems some of the big-shot members on the board were being paid by the Romulans to ruin the negotiations."

"They would benefit from the Federation not obtaining as much dilithium as possible," Spock said with a nod. "Has the guilty party been found?"

"Oh yeah," McCoy said with a wide grin as he checked Jim over. "Uhura caught a sub-space message from them to the Romulan Star Empire, and she relayed it to the rest of the party you were supposed to meet with."

"I take it they were very grateful?" Jim asked, wincing and rubbing his hand against the spot McCoy had just attacked with a hypo. "And what the hell was that?"

"The antidote to your hairy problem," McCoy said with a smug grin, "no need to thank me, you know."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You sure it's gonna work?"

"Already showing up in the tricorder readings," he said.

Jim beamed at him. "First, I'm gonna take a shower, second, a haircut and third, I think we need to visit with the board and the mine workers' union." Taking a step forward, he stopped. "Spock?"

"I shall meet you back here in half an hour," Spock replied.

"Good." Jim didn't turn around, he didn't dare. They had to get this over with first. Stepping over to the consol, Jim activated the communications line. "Kirk to bridge."

"Bridge here," Sulu replied immediately.

"Sulu! Have Uhura send the mining colony a message. Spock and I have been retrieved and we'll join them in forty minutes," Jim said cheerily.

"Will do, sir...." There was a moment of silence, then "and welcome back, Captain."

Jim grinned widely. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu, Kirk out."


Seven hours later, Jim slapped the door control to his quarters, yawning loudly. Damn, that had been one long day.

Too bad Spock had beamed back a few hours earlier to send the newly signed agreement to Starfleet. Jim had stayed on as the board and the miners had felt it necessary to thank him by making him stay for dinner.

Jim made towards the bathroom and stopped dead. At the foot of his bed, behind the divider, he found Spock sitting on the floor, legs bend, hands resting on his knees and deep in meditation.

Jim smiled to himself, went over and knelt down in front of him. He sat there for a while, just taking in Spock's features. Eventually, Spock opened his eyes and Jim's smile widened.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hello, Jim." Spock tilted his head to the side. "It seems the doctor's injection worked."

Jim ran a hand up the back of his neck, reveling in the feel of the short bristles against his fingers. "Oh yeah, this time I can go back to having regular haircuts."

Spock lifted one hand and to Jim's joy, he didn't hesitate, before running his fingers through the short cropped hair. Jim shivered and a small moan escaped him. Lifting his free hand, Spock hooked both behind Jim's head and pulled him forward, and if Jim had expected a chaste kiss like the one they had shared in the tunnel, he was in for a surprise.

It was strange, as Jim was used to the heated skin and mouth of humans (at least most of the time), because Spock's mouth was cool, his lips dry and his tongue had a rougher surface than Jim was used to. Not that he was complaining when Spock slipped his tongue inside his mouth.

Moaning deep in his throat, Jim grabbed at Spock's uniform front, moving forward until he was pretty much in Spock's lap.

They slowed the kiss, and Spock breathed heavily into Jim's mouth. "You are most responsive," he gasped.

"You have no idea," Jim answered, laughing as he pulled back to get his uniform top off along with the t-shirt underneath. Spock followed and almost growled at Jim when Jim thwarted him by pulling the shirts up and off. Of course the sound turned to one of approval as he now had access to a lot of bare skin.

Jim yelped as Spock bowed his head and latched on to the bare skin at Jim's collarbone. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes and breathing heavily.

Spock nosed his way up under Jim's chin, nibbling at the sensitive skin.

Burying his fingers in Spock's hair, Jim rolled his hips against Spock and for a moment he felt almost dizzy as Spock grabbed him, lifted and turned to deposit Jim on the bed, basically dumping him and making him bounce up and down a few times.

Jim stared up at Spock's dark eyes. Nodding slowly, he couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face. There was no way he'd be mistaken for a princess in need now. Well, he was in need right that very moment, but he was pretty sure Spock was on top of it, and that problem would soon be taken care of.

The End