Fic: Intoxication

[pallanwen]

Title: Intoxication
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Genre: slash
Rating: PG 13
Wordcount: 1331
Summary: Kirk becomes very affectionate when he's drunk.
A/N: A short and rather cracky kink meme fill. Unbetaed .

Spock has never understood the appeal of alcohol to humans. And although Kirk has urged him more than once to give the intoxicating liquid a try, neither Saurian brandy nor Aldebaran whiskey have ever done anything for him, besides giving him a slight headache and an overwhelming desire to fall asleep. Ever since, it has remained inexplicable to him, why his captain and Doctor McCoy still indulge in excessive consumption of intoxicating liquors on nearly every shore leave.

Besides, it remains equally inexplicable to him why they still insist on him joining them, even if most of their escapades will inevitably end with a headache, possible vomiting and most important, highly illogical and embarrassing behavior.

As it is happening right now. Spock forces back a sigh and raises an eyebrow, when he observes McCoy ordering his fourth shot of brandy. Kirk isn’t far behind, even though he sticks to ale today. Spock’s observation isn’t impaired by inebriation so he clearly notices that the captain’s cheeks are flushed, his pupils dilated and his voice has begun to slur twenty-three minutes ago. Spock silently shakes his head and sips on his glass of water – the only non-alcoholic drink available in this bar. ‘Starry Night’ it is called – a name Spock considers rather ridiculous, but none of his companions seems to mind– and it is situated on Starbase 18, where the crew of the Enterprise has taken extended shore leave. Currently Spock regrets not to have remained on the ship, where he would have been able to sort out important files, take care of neglected experiments in the science lab and indulge in long hours of quiet meditation.

Instead he is sitting in an overcrowded bar, where the tables are sticky, the air smells of alcohol, sweat and various undefined humanoid evaporations while conversation is close to impossible over the overly loud and obnoxious music. Drunkards and pleasure-seekers of nearly every known species (except for Vulcans, of course) are crowding the narrow rooms, the air is too hot, even for Vulcan standards and Spock asks himself for the sixteenth time why he has agreed to accompany his friends to this place.

He recalls the reason, when Kirk turns around and smiles at him. A very drunken smile that still manages to make Spock’s heart beat faster (in a strictly metaphorical sense, of course.)

“I’m glad you’ve come with us, Spock!” he says and puts his arm around Spock’s shoulders (his other is already wrapped tightly around McCoy) “It’s good to see you having some fun.”

“’Having fun’ appears to be a highly subjective concept,” Spock replies dryly, but Kirk isn’t listening anymore, but beckons the Andorian waitress and orders another ale. Afterwards he snuggles closer to McCoy and whispers something in the doctor’s ear. The music is so loud Spock doesn’t understand a word, but the general meaning is clear from the way Kirk’s right hand rubs over McCoy’s shoulder and the broad smile on the doctor’s face.

Kirk becomes very affectionate when he is drunk.

The music stops for a second and right before the next song (if you can call it ‘song’ –  to Spock’s sensitive Vulcan ears it sounds like noise of copulating desert animals) and he is able to hear what Kirk is telling McCoy.

“Have I ever told you that you have ex.. extr… extraordinary eyes?”

“Oh, really?” McCoy raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem to mind that Kirk is almost crawling into his lap right now.

Kirk nods enthusiastically. “They are very… “, he looks around then settles his gaze on McCoy’s face again, “very blue.”

Apparently, alcohol doesn’t exactly serve to improve the captain’s eloquence.

“I know my eyes are blue,” grumbles McCoy, whose Southern accent is becoming stronger with every glass he drinks. Spock has to strain his ears to distinguish the words from the uniform drawl. “Y’ know, I’ve looked into the mirror.”

“It’s a special blue,” Kirk insists. “Very… very… blue!”

“Now, that’s good to know.”

Kirk reaches out and cups McCoy’s chin in one hand. He is still staring into the other man’s eyes. Spock is rather sure he is supposed to do something right now, to prevent what’s coming next, but he can only sit and stare.

“I… I think I’m going to kiss you now,” says Kirk.

McCoy’s eyes go wide, but only for a moment. Because now, Kirk is living up to his promise, bends down and kisses McCoy full on the lips. The doctor freezes, but only for a second – then he is kissing back. He grabs Kirk’s shoulders and pulls him closer and seems not very willing to stop anywhere in the near future.

Suddenly the bar’s drink menu becomes quite appealing to Spock. Andorian ale doesn’t sound that bad after all… And it’s bright blue, a very comforting color in his opinion. Besides, now that he looks at Kirk and McCoy, who are still locked in a tight embrace while Kirk’s hands have found their way under McCoy’s uniform tunic, alcoholic intoxication might have its advantages…

It might also help him to keep his thoughts away from very irritating, very un-Vulcan feelings. Like jealousy, for example.

The waitress appears and hands Kirk another glass of ale, but the captain is still so very occupied in exploring the insides of his CMO’s mouth (human kissing is a bit unsavory, thinks Spock, with all the saliva and the tongues involved), so Spock accepts the glass instead, takes a good look at the blue, foamy liquid and decided to give it a try.

In the very moment, when the ale touches Spock’s lips (it tastes as disgusting as he expected), Kirk breaks the kiss and turns around.

“Oh, Spock…,” he says and stops mid-movement.

“Yes Captain?” Calmly, Spock puts down the glass and faces Kirk.

“You… you’re drinking?”

“Indeed, I am.” Rather against his will Spock raises the glass again and takes a second gulp. The taste doesn’t improve, but thankfully he has long experience in controlling his facial expression.

“Why?”

Yes, Kirk’s eloquence has rapidly evaporated. Doctor McCoy’s as well, he only manages a vaguely inquiring grunt while he is busy, staring at Spock with his uncannily blue eyes (which do not appear that impressive at the moment, however, being blood-shot and decidedly unfocused.)

“But… but Spock, you don’t need to!” Now both, Kirk and McCoy are staring in wide-eyed confusion.

Spock just lifts an eyebrow in what he hopes to be an ambiguous and variously interpretable reaction, - well, and because he really doesn’t know what to say.

“No Mr. Spock, you really don’t need to do that,” agrees McCoy and once again Kirk nods enthusiastically.

“Why?” Spock simply asks.

“Because…” Kirk reaches up, puts his arm around Spock’s shoulder, pulls him close and presses his lips against Spock’s mouth. “It’s really unnecessary!”

“He’s right,” says McCoy as soon as Kirk pulls away and Spock has found time to breathe again. “Alcohol’s really overrated.” He leans sideways, braces his arm on Kirk’s thigh while he reaches with the other one for Spock’s shoulder and pulls him into a kiss as well. Meanwhile, Kirk’s arm has slipped around Spock’s waist and finds its way under the velour of his uniform tunic.

They try to shift into a more comfortable position, bump against the table so the glass of ale falls over and blue liquid spills all over the table. None of them minds the accident. Spock is far to occupied in reciprocating McCoy’s kisses while simultaneously focusing on the things Kirk’s hands are doing to his chest and nipples.

“We should get back to the ship,” McCoy mumbles in between kisses.

“That’s a good idea,” says Kirk, “My quarters or yours?”

When they leave the bar, Spock is walking between Kirk and McCoy with his arms wrapped around both men’s shoulders. He is rather pleased with his situation and decides that the consumption of alcohol might not be that illogical an act after all.

- the end -