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The vehicle shuttered to a stop with one final, sad choke of the engine, the battery light flickering on as the engine failed.
Jim slammed his hands against the steering wheel with a curse. “Damn, stupid car.” He sighed, staring out the windshield at the rain that was coming down in torrents, blurring their view of the dark line of trees on the side of the road where the car had died. Jim tried to turn the key and was rewarded with the slow stutter of an engine refusing to start.
“You were correct when you surmised a potential mechanical error was eminent,” Spock commented from his spot in the passenger seat.
“Sure looks like it, doesn’t it.”
The evening had been nice; Jim had taken Spock to his favorite restaurant, one which he had known had a decent vegetarian menu, then had shown him the cliff where a young Jim had spent a long time stargazing and wishing he was anywhere else than Riverside Iowa. While sitting, looking out across the valley as the setting sun dyed the rocks a dark red, Spock spoke of a childhood of trying to fit in among Vulcan children who knew he was different and tormented him for it.
Jim wondered what it was like, being a part of two worlds when neither accepted you for who you were. Jim felt as though Spock had given him a gift in sharing this part of himself with Jim, and Jim had reciprocated with the loneliness of his own childhood, the neglect that had led him to drive a car off this very cliff. These memories didn’t have the power to hurt them anymore and it felt good to let them free into the cool Iowa evening.
Unfortunately, a storm had caught up with them on the tail end of their trip, forcing them to race to the shelter of Jim’s old truck, only for it to die on them on their way back to the farmhouse. The rain prevented Jim from walking around the front of the car to see if he could find the issue himself, and he despaired at neglecting to bring his comm.
“You don’t happen to have a communicator with you, do you?” Jim asked, shooting Spock a sheepish look.
Spock blinked, and then furrowed his brows. “I placed it in the pocket of the jacket you loaned me, which I now realize we left in the diner.”
“Well shit.”
“I wholeheartedly concur with the sentiment of that exclamation.”
Jim sunk in his seat, staring up at the carpeted ceiling of the truck, wondering why his luck always seemed to run out at the worst moments. Stranded on the side of the road in the rain wasn’t the worst situation that Jim and Spock had gotten into, but it was irritating, especially when Jim knew how comfortable the farmhouse was, warm and out of this awful rain. Plus, it was murky and dark in the car, the only light coming from the glowing dashboard display.
“I could get out and take a look at the engine.”
Spock stared at the rain for a moment. “I do not believe that is a wise decision. The rain is too heavy, and if you cannot fix it, as the odds suggest, you will merely end up soaking wet and cold.”
Jim huffed. “Fine.”
“Perhaps another vehicle will pass by and we can ask them for assistance.”
“I doubt anyone will pass by anytime soon. We’re in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere.”
Spock didn’t comment on the fact that fuck-ass wasn’t actually a place on Earth and Jim was only slightly disappointed. Jim put the hazards on just in case, but that was mostly for his own wavering peace of mind.
“At least this place is within walking distance of a gas station. Unlike Altamid.” Jim still had dreams of the sprawling, empty forests and the clawing horror that came with the thought of all his crew being captured. This situation was markedly better than that one had been. It was always good to keep things in perspective, which was easy when Jim's mind always had memories of the horrible missions on hand.
Spock tilted his head. “There are no vehicles on Earth that run on gas, therefore the existence of an antiquated Earth gas station does not make sense.”
Jim smirked. “It’s what we call convenience stores, Spock. It was once a gas station, way back in the day, and it still has the old gas pumps out front.” Jim shook his head. “Some of us like to get stuck in the past, I guess.”
Spock tilted his head. “You have proven, on multiple fronts, to be open to change, and on many accounts have proven you are more than your past and your father’s legacy.”
“Thanks for that, Spock.” It still caught him off guard when Spock took to complimenting him like that, but it was a good feeling, and Jim basked in it.
The rain increased in intensity. “I should have checked the weather.”
“Rain would not have impeded us had the engine on your vehicle not failed.”
“Yeah, but I suspected it might fail, remember?”
“There is no use regretting what has already come to pass.” Which was Spock’s way of saying that Jim probably should have checked the weather or at least made sure they weren’t using a faulty car to get around.
Jim poked around on the radio for a little while, trying to find something decent for them to listen to while the car battery still had power, but after a while he declared it a lost cause and turned it off. The rain was loud, anyway.
“Jim, I have been meaning to ask this all day and never got the chance. Now that we seem to be here without distraction, it seems like an appropriate time.”
“Go ahead,” Jim said, frowning at the slight furrow between Spock’s brows as he stared out the window.
Spock looked over at Jim. “You told me that you wanted company on your visit to your home town. I did not question it at the time, because I was gratified that you would choose me as your companion. I now wish to express my confusion at your choice to bring me.”
Jim’s frown deepened. “Spock. After all this time, you still don’t understand, do you?”
Spock’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything.
“Spock, when I say you’re my friend, I mean it. Friends invite each other to things like this, friends enjoy each other’s company. I want you here with me.”
Spock blinked at him. “Why not bring Dr. McCoy?”
“I love Bones, but he would drive me crazy on a trip like this. Besides, he would hate coming here, and I knew you would find the experience fascinating.”
“I do indeed. Forays into human culture never cease to be educational.” Spock paused, eyes softening. “I also find I am pleased to spend time with you in a more casual setting.”
Jim felt his face heat, but he hid the reaction by turning to stare out the windshield again. “Well, I guess you could say this is pretty casual.”
They had spent enough time on various planets for shore leave, had docked at enough starbases over the years of his captaincy for Jim to know what Spock was like outside of official ship business. While many Vulcans favored flowing robes that looked formal enough to wear to a funeral, Spock preferred lighter, more human clothing, usually in dark colors that made him seem even paler than he was. Today, though, Spock had chosen a tunic in a light blue, lighter than his science uniform and cut in a more flattering style that showed off the long line of his throat and accentuated his broad shoulders.
Jim wondered if Spock had inherited his sense of style from his mother or his father, and then decided it looked like a little of both.
“This is going to make you never want to come on vacation with me again, isn’t it? I promised you a good time, and this is what I give you.”
“Up until this point, I have been having a good time. This is merely an inconvenience, but not one I find negatively impacts the rest of the trip.”
“So you’re saying you don’t mind being stuck in a car with me?”
“I have been stuck in much worse places with you, Jim.”
Spock had taken to calling him by his name more and more, and it was doing things to Jim that he had no idea how to handle.
The thing was, Jim was head over heels for his first officer, had been since Khan, and he was trying desperately to handle it without making an utter fool of himself. Bringing Spock to his hometown probably wasn’t the best decision if he wanted to keep his distance, but he had known Spock didn’t have plans for their shore leave time, and Jim would have gone home alone. He wasn’t strong enough to deny himself and Spock the chance to spend that time together.
Winter hadn’t fully hit Iowa yet, but the air had lost the gentle warmth of fall, and without the heat running, a chill had started to permeate the interior of the car.
“God, I’m cold. You must be freezing, Spock.” Jim huffed, trying to get the heat pumping to no avail.
“Vulcans may be acclimated to higher temperatures, but we also have more control over how we react to stimuli. Furthermore, I have been on a ship of predominately humans for enough time to have gotten used to the temperatures in which humans thrive.”
Jim shot him a look. “Alright. Well, I’m cold.” He shifted around in his seat and reached into the back row, sifting around for the extra jacket he was pretty sure he had stowed back there.
He could feel Spock’s eyes on him as he struggled, yanking out a pair of jeans and blinking. “I thought I lost these.”
“I do not see the merit in using a form of transportation as storage for clothing items.”
Jim grinned. “You’ll never know when you’ll need a spare pair of pants.”
Spock looked like he was going to argue, but he refrained.
Jim threw the jeans back and called it quits on the jacket. He knew for a fact there was a blanket in the way back, but he would wait until he was desperate, and he hoped that the rain would let up before that happened.
The rain didn’t let up, and all the heat in the car faded steadily until Jim was clutching his arms and shivering. They had been in the car for about two and a half hours and had filled it with small talk and a verbal game of chess that Jim lost badly. He would blame it on the cold when asked later.
“Shit, how are you not freezing?”
“If I was freezing, I would be dead.”
Jim sighed. “It’s a figure of speech, Spock. You must be cold.”
“Uncomfortably so.”
“Alright. Give me a second.” Jim crawled out of the driver’s seat, hitting his knee on the stick shift as he went. He cursed when getting to the second row of seats turned out to be harder than he thought.
When he was finally kneeling in the second row seats, he reached back and felt around in the back for the blanket, smiling when his fingers met the thick fleece. He pulled it forward and began shoving the crap that had piled up on the seats into the back where it would be out of the way.
“Climb back here.”
Spock turned, eyebrows rising. “For what reason?”
“Because, we can’t share this blanket with the center console between us. Back here we can get nice and close and warm.”
“Captain, I do not see why—“
“Come on, Spock, this blanket is great, and it will warm us both right up.”
Spock spent a moment contemplating, taking in Jim sitting underneath the blanket and the climb it would take to get back to him. In the end, the logic of seeking warmth had Spock navigating over the console and into the back seat, much more gracefully than Kirk had managed, but less so than he usually was. It was hard to be graceful when climbing around on the inside of a car.
Spock settled into the seat with a few inches between them, stiff-backed and blank-faced. Jim grinned and slid until they were pressed together from knees to shoulders, draping the blanket over both of them and hiking it up to his chin.
“See? Warm.”
The tension slowly eased from Spock’s frame as it started to warm under the blanket. It was soothing, with the rain pattering against the roof and the new-found warmth of the blanket and Spock’s higher body temperature. He felt his head nodding, cheek brushing Spock’s shoulder. Each time, he jerked back and tried to blink himself awake, only to find his head sinking a few seconds later.
Eventually, his body won out, and he ended up falling asleep. He only knew this because he woke with a start to a booming sound, breathing heavily to find that his head was pillowed in Spock’s lap.
“What the hell was that?” he groaned, squinting up at Spock.
Spock glanced down at him, unperturbed by their position, likely the one who had pulled Jim down so he was lying instead of curled awkwardly on Spock’s shoulder. “The storm has worsened.”
Jim watched as lightning threw white light over the interior of the car, followed a few seconds later by a deep boom, the sound that had woken him. The rain hadn’t let up.
“Well shit.” He tried to blink the grogginess from his eyes, but the darkness in the car wasn’t helping. “Ugh. What time is it?”
“According to my internal clock, it is oh-three hundred.”
“We are never getting out of here.”
“It is unlikely that we will be stuck here for more than a few hours.”
They had already been stuck in the car for four hours. If Jim hadn’t fallen asleep for a good half hour, he would likely be going stir crazy in the tight confines of the car. As it was, he could feel a hint of claustrophobia start to kick in, the rain a barrier between them and freedom. Spock’s lap was warm, but he decided to spare his first officer and his dignity, struggling to sit up, getting tangled in the blanket as he went.
“Jim, you do not have to move.”
“You can’t be comfortable with my heavy skull in your lap.”
“I was not uncomfortable.”
Jim shrugged. “I’m awake now.”
The world had taken a dream-like quality in the darkness. The rain still pattered on the roof, and lightning threw beams of light onto them at random intervals. It was cold, but not horribly so, and Spock’s edges had softened in the absence of light. Kirk felt strange on the little sleep he had gotten, felt like they were on their own little planet, stranded here in Jim’s car, surrounded by rain and trees and darkness.
“I’m glad you came with me, even if it means we both got stuck in this car together.”
“I would not have refused an offer to visit your home town with you.”
“You’re a good friend. You know that, Spock?”
Spock tilted his head. “I have always found the human definition of friendship has loose parameters.”
“Is there a Vulcan word for what we are?”
Spock remained silent, face carefully blank. Jim wondered if he had said something wrong.
“Okay, forget I asked that. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Spock released a barely audible sigh. “You did not offend, Jim. I have struggled to find a word for our relationship by Vulcan standards.”
“And that freaks you out?”
“I find it confusing, but that does not mean I do not value our relationship.”
Jim wished more than anything to bridge the gap between them, to show Spock what he wanted their relationship to be. Jim wanted everything from Spock, wanted to give him everything, but he knew the chances of that happening were very low. Spock was struggling to understand their friendship; he couldn’t imagine how Spock would deal with something more.
But bringing Spock here had blurred things for Jim. Seeing Spock in his childhood home, being close to him outside of ship business. It made Jim wonder what he could lose by taking the leap.
Jim knew, though, that the consequences could be dire. He could lose Spock as a friend, and that was unacceptable. So Jim would hold it in, giving Spock everything he could and hope that it was enough.
Jim felt his throat tighten at the thought and he decided to change the subject. “Are you cold?”
Spock’s face softened from the strange tightness that line of conversation had caused. “No. The blanket in combination with your body heat have managed to raise my temperature to a comfortable level.”
“Good.” Jim allowed himself the indulgence of resting his head against Spock’s shoulder, knowing that if Spock questioned it he could blame it on the need to share body heat and his grogginess. Spock didn’t even tense, shifting to allow Kirk even more space to rest against him, and Jim smiled against the fabric of Spock’s shirt.
A few moments later, Jim’s head lifted from Spock’s shirt. “The rain’s stopped.”
“Indeed. Perhaps we should check the engine?”
“You can stay in here, if you want. I’ve fixed that engine enough times to know what I’m doing.”
“Nevertheless, I would like to accompany you.”
Jim shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He popped the hood, reaching across to grab the flashlight he kept stowed in the glove box before opening the driver’s door and lurching to the front. “Okay, let’s see what the damage is.”
Spock stood beside him as they both peered under the hood. The air was damp, and there was a still a misting of rain that wasn’t enough to get them wet, but was enough to stick on the ends of Jim’s hair and bead on Spock’s.
Jim poked around for a while, unable to find the source of the issue. “Dammit.”
“Perhaps the problem lies within the—”
That’s when the sky decided to open up again, releasing buckets of water over their heads.
“Shit!”
Jim slammed the hood of the car, hurrying around the side and scrambling at the back door. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Spock was right behind him as he dove into the car, shutting the door behind them to block out the torrent.
Jim’s shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. It had taken no time at all to get them both soaked, and the car was still dead.
“Fuck.” Jim pulled at his shirt and wiped at his face, irritated.
Jim glanced at Spock and nearly balked. He tried desperately to remember a time he had seen Spock soaked, but he couldn’t come up with anything. Spock never took water showers on the Enterprise, and in any of the missions involving water, Spock hadn’t been involved or had avoided getting wet.
Spock’s hair was limp, flattened down in a way that made his ears even more prominent. He was wearing an expression of distaste as water dripped down his face from his sodden bangs.
Jim burst out laughing, at the look on Spock’s face, at the absurdity of the situation, at their bad luck.
“God, Spock, can we get any luckier?” he asked through his laughter.
“If such a thing existed, I would say it is not on our side.”
Jim flashed him a wide grin, noticing how Spock’s eyes were alight with humor. They were both so wet, and it was freezing and dark, and they were trapped out here, but Jim was happier than he had been in a long time. Spock looked happy too, Jim realized.
Fuck it.
Jim slid forward, bridging the gap between them like it was nothing and pressing his lips against Spock’s.
Spock was stiff for one long moment in which Jim thought he had made the wrong decision, and then he was kissing back, pressing forward and tilting his head for a better angle.
The kiss was damp and grew heated quickly. Spock’s hand was a hot brand against Jim’s neck, his mouth sure and precise against Jim’s in a way that made him think this wasn’t the first time Spock had thought about kissing him. When Jim parted his lips in a gasp, Spock pushed the advantage, slipping his tongue inside Jim’s mouth in a hot slide.
Jim worked to pull Spock closer, wanted to have as much contact with him as possible. It was difficult to get closer at the angle they were sitting without their knees knocking, so Jim took matters into his own hands and swung a leg up over Spock’s, settling down into the heat of his lap and relishing in Spock’s tiny gasp.
“Jim.”
Jim pulled back just enough to meet Spock’s gaze and get pinned by the intensity in those dark eyes. Jim smiled. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”
Spock’s hands settled on Jim’s hips, warm through the dampness of his clothes. “I share that sentiment.”
“Sentiment, Spock?”
Spock’s eyes held no humor when he responded. “For you, Jim, always.”
Jim’s grin sobered, and he leaned in to kiss Spock, throat clogged with emotion at Spock’s admission. The new angle from on Spock’s lap was heady, and from there Spock had better access to Jim’s throat, which he took advantage of when Jim pulled back to catch his breath. Jim’s throat worked against the tongue that laved against his Adam’s apple, groaned at the hint of teeth on his jawline.
“Spock. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Spock pressed their foreheads together, staring into Jim’s eyes intently, their shared breath loud in the space between them. “I did not wish to overstep boundaries that were not my right to overstep. I did not want to lose my friendship with you in the event you did not share my regard.”
“You waited for me to take the leap.”
“I am gratified that you did,” Spock responded. “You asked, once, what you would do without me,” Spock said, voice rough around the edges in a way that made Jim want to see how much more he could ruin it. “I find myself asking the same question, reversed.”
“Aw, Spock, you’d do fine without me.”
Spock kissed the corner of Jim’s mouth, brushing his nose against Jim’s. “I find the thought abhorrent, to the point of being unbearable. Vulcans are not supposed to have desires, not ones they cannot control. I want you, Jim, and I find I do not want to control that desire.”
Jim slid his hand up Spock’s back and into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to, Spock. You can have me.”
Spock made a sound in the back of his throat that on anyone else would have been a moan, pressing forward to seal his mouth to Jim’s in a searing kiss. His hands slipped under the hem of Jim’s drenched shirt, moving up to splay, possessive and hot, against the bare skin of Jim’s lower back.
“You can take that off, you know,” Jim murmured against Spock’s mouth. “It’s soaked, anyway.”
Spock complied, which meant they had to break apart just long enough to get Jim’s shirt over his head. The air on the inside of the car was cold against his overheated skin, but then Spock was dragging his mouth against Jim’s collarbone, and he didn’t feel the cold.
When Jim had imagined their first time, though he had tried to keep the imagining to a minimum just to avoid the inevitable disappointment, he hadn’t imagined it happening in his car.
It wasn’t like he was complaining, though.
Spock’s hands were everywhere, tracing searing paths along the newly revealed skin of Jim’s torso, working up his chest to curl over his shoulders and up around his neck. “Jim.”
Spock’s eyes looked big when his hair was wet. He looked exposed, vulnerable, and it was Jim’s job not to take advantage of that. Jim was being trusted with something important.
Jim snuck his fingers under the hem of Spock’s shirt. “Your turn.”
Spock lifted his arms so Jim could pull the shirt off over his head, coming through on the other side with ruffled hair and cheeks tinged green.
Jim had seen Spock close to naked before. On a starship there wasn’t much room for modesty, but Jim had never been allowed to appreciate the view, before. Now he could take in Spock’s hint of softness around the middle, his lean shoulders and strong arms, with appreciation. He had a dusting of hair across his chest and a line of thicker hair that led to the waistband of his pants that were slung low over his hips.
Jim slid his hands down from Spock’s shoulders, brushing down his pecs and marveling in the rasp of hair and the heat of his skin under Jim’s hands.
Jim leaned in and trailed his mouth along the line of Spock’s jaw and up towards his ear, scraping his teeth gently towards the tapered end. Spock huffed a surprised breath and tightened his hands on Jim’s back.
Jim smiled against the skin of Spock’s ear. “Sensitive, are we?”
“More so than I realized.”
Jim connected their mouths again, and it wasn’t long before the kisses grew fast and urgent. Jim rolled his hips against the hardness he felt beneath him, and they both groaned at the sensation. Jim could get off like this, he realized, as he felt his pulse pick up and his arousal spike. He wanted more, though, more than grinding against Spock through too many layers of fabric.
“I want you to fuck me, Spock.”
Spock blinked at him, eyes darkening and hands tightening on Jim’s waist. “Do you have lubrication?”
“I think so. Hold on.”
Spock seemed reluctant to let Jim climb off his lap, but the thought of fucking Jim was motivation to release him. Jim scrambled forwards, just enough that he could lean over the passenger seat and open the glove compartment. He had to dig around a little bit, but he returned to the back triumphant, clutching a small bottle of lube he had stashed in his car in case of emergency.
He could tell Spock had pieced through why Jim had lube in the car, and he could see Spock’s possessiveness in the way he looked at Jim, how he kissed him when Jim was in range. Jim smiled into the kiss and leaned back so he was lying down across the back seats with Spock over him, pressing Jim into the upholstery as he kissed him.
They made short work of their remaining clothing, and then they had nothing separating them and Spock was settling between Jim’s legs.
Jim slipped his fingers into damp, silky hair and gasped into Spock’s mouth, pressing the bottle of lube into Spock’s hand as Spock ground down against him. The friction was just right, so when Spock lifted to his knees Jim nearly cried at the loss. But then Spock was kissing down his stomach with a determined expression, and Jim decided this was also good. When Spock took him into his mouth, Jim’s hips lifted off the seat with surprise and pleasure.
“Spock!”
Spock’s mouth was hot around him, his motions precise and sure, unraveling Jim with ease. It was when Jim was throwing his head back and splaying his legs at the sensation that Spock slipped a finger inside him.
Spock was careful and thorough as he prepared Jim, setting off any discomfort Jim felt by a clever swirl of his tongue, and the dual sensation was enough to have Jim gasping and trying to keep his hips from bucking into the heat of Spock’s mouth or back onto the fingers working to loosen him.
Spock crooked a finger just right, brushing against that little bundle of nerves that had sparks going off in the corner of Jim’s eyes. “Spock, come on, I’m ready.”
Spock’s fingers were nothing in comparison to the feeling of his length pushing into him, hot and relentless as Jim gasped and pressed his knees against Spock’s ribs.
Spock hovered over him, facial expression wrecked of its Vulcan control. “Jim.”
Jim laced their fingers together, and Spock pressed their hands back against the seat beside Jim’s head as he began working his hips. His other hand cradled the back of Jim’s head as he leaned in to kiss Jim’s gasping mouth.
Spock’s skin was hot, and it was everywhere, and Jim felt like he was drowning in the sensations. He fisted a hand in the back of Spock’s hair and arched up into Spock’s thrusts, mouth going slack. “God, Spock, you feel amazing.”
It was dark in the car, but Jim could just make out the dusting of green across Spock’s cheekbones and the shine of wetness on his mouth. He looked just as debauched as Jim felt, and it was because of him.
Jim wrapped one of his legs around Spock’s back and Spock changed his angle just enough to hit Jim’s prostate on every thrust, forcing a high whine out of Jim’s throat as he felt the edges of his control begin to unravel.
When Jim came, it was untouched, to the sound of his name repeated on Spock’s breath. Spock’s fingers slipped against his own, his pace becoming erratic, and then Spock was coming, face crumpling but eyes remaining fixed on Jim.
Once Jim came down from the best orgasm he had had in as long as he could remember, Spock was lying atop him, his face pressed into Jim’s neck, his fingers trailing over Jim’s in a soothing pattern.
“Spock, you’re really heavy.”
Spock shifted so his weight was more on the seat than on Jim, and he met Jim’s gaze. Jim smiled at him, feeling light and happy and basking in the sensation of the incredible amount of skin contact they shared. “Spock. Your hair’s a mess.”
Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “I could say the same about yours, regardless of the name Mr. Scott calls you when he is frustrated.”
Jim sighed. “He calls me Captain Perfect-Hair around you?”
“I believe he has called you that in a few of his logs as well.”
“Great,” Jim deadpanned.
Spock brushed the hand that wasn’t still entwined with Jim’s up through blond hair. “The rain may be an inconvenience, but if such inconveniences always led to favorable outcomes such as this, general efficiency would reduce remarkably.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re thanking the rain for being able to fuck me?”
From this close, Jim could see the way Spock’s nose wrinkled at the crude language. Jim leaned forward and kissed it, just because he could.
Spock stole a real kiss, languid and slow, and Jim nearly melted right into the seat covers.
“What is it you’re doing with our hands? Feels nice.”
Spock lifted their entwined hands so they could both look at them. He adjusted his fingers so that the first two were pointed out and the others curled under his thumb. Jim mirrored him, and Spock pressed their extended fingers together. “This is a traditional Vulcan kiss, shared between bondmates and spouses.”
“Aren’t Vulcan hands much more sensitive than Humans’?”
“Indeed. Vulcans are touch-telepaths, with nearly twice the amount of nerve endings in our hands.”
Spock began sliding his fingers up and down Jim’s, sending small shocks of contentment and pleasure down Jim’s arm. “Does the telepathy thing go both ways?”
Spock’s gaze was warm. “When I want it to, yes.”
Jim smiled and tried to project his feelings of happiness and love.
Spock laced their fingers and leaned forward to kiss Jim again as Jim reached out and yanked the blanket that had fallen off the seat up and over them. He was warm and happy and decided being stuck in his car with Spock was actually a wonderful thing.
Jim woke to a loud knocking.
When he finally blinked his eyes open, he looked up to see that Spock was crouched over him, peering out the window with a dark expression. Jim followed his gaze to see a bearded man looking in at them from the bright light of morning.
“Do you guys need help? Your hazards are on.”
Jim smiled. “A lift into town would be great, actually.” He scratched his head. “Would you, um, give us a moment?”
The man grinned and winked. “Sure thing.”
When he was out of sight of the car, Jim pushed at Spock’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get some clothing on.”
Jim’s jeans were still damp, and he pulled them on with a grimace. “Are you uncomfortable with that dude knowing we were naked in this car together?”
Spock finished pulling his shirt over his head. “No. I find it gratifying that he knows you are mine and I yours.”
Jim shot him a crooked grin. “So you’re one of those.”
Spock definitely didn’t understand that one, but he didn’t ask as they exited the car into the cool, crisp morning, stretching their stiff legs and walking towards the man’s battered transport. He was leaning against it, whistling as he stared off in to the woods. He grinned when he noticed them.
“How long have you guys been stuck here?”
“Six hours, twelve minutes, and forty one seconds.”
The man blinked. “Yikes. You get caught in that storm?”
“Yeah,” Jim responded. “That rain was terrible.”
The man shook his head. “Well, I’ll get you guys into town. Unless you want me to take you somewhere else?”
“Town is fine. I’ll call the towing company and we’ll catch a cab home.” He shot a look at Spock, who nodded.
“No problem. My name is Bill, by the way. It’s a real honor to meet the famed Captain Kirk and his First Officer Spock.”
Jim shook his hand. “The honor’s ours.”
Bill chattered the whole fifteen minute ride into town, but Jim let it roll over him peacefully as he pressed his shoulder into Spock’s in the back of Bill’s transport and watched the smirk that was curling on one corner of Spock’s mouth.
Jim brushed their fingers together and marveled at the pulse of affection he could feel from Spock, knowing that Spock could feel Jim’s happiness in return. Jim finally felt grounded, and he had Spock to thank for that. He had Spock to thank for a lot of things, and as Jim pressed a Vulcan kiss to Spock's fingers, he hoped this was the very beginning of a lifetime of thanks.