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Language:
English
Series:
Part 32 of Spring Fever ‘24 , Part 36 of Poetry , Part 1 of Professor AU
Collections:
K/S Spring Fever 2024
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Published:
2024-03-22
Words:
183
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
5
Kudos:
15
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1
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209

A Blue Without a Name

Summary:

Spock filed away many thoughts from that first day meeting James T. Kirk, and he reflects upon them with the best media he knows of: Poetry.

Notes:

In response to a prompt by ThiaWen in the KS_SpringFever2024 collection.

 

Prompt:

 

Just an idea I had for a fic. Would love to see someone’s take on it.

So we know in tos that Jim did a stint teaching at the academy. Gary Mitchell even said that in his class you either think or sink. He also apparently pointed some attractive woman his way in hopes of distracting him, presumably to make the class easier. Jim protests that he almost married her when Gary confesses to this.

So I’m thinking AOS, where Jim joins the academy when he would have in tos or even earlier. (If Chekov can join at like 14, Jim can too.) and he also does the teaching stint. At the same time as Spock.

Just imagine it. Jim and Spock as the youngest, smartest, and hottest professors at the academy. Maybe introduced at first because they are each other’s only peer. Seriously. No one else can keep up with them, half their students are older than them, and their coworkers are twice their age. But they hit it off and are soon practically living in each other’s pockets. If you need to find one of them, look for the other type of thing.

And maybe a bunch of cadets try to pull a Mitchell and get them together in hopes it will distract them and make them merciful on the finals.

(It does not.)

DNW - unhappy ending, cheating

Work Text:

Spock meditates that night after meeting Jim; and when he's done he knows only one certain thing. He is intricately intrigued by the man that stood before him


As I looked to you, I could not help

but notice the burning in your eyes. 

The hottest blaze: a blue without a name.

And it consumed my soul with a single look. 

Your visage has since plagued my every thought

Every blink; every beat of my heart. 

I wish to know you, to touch you. 

Never have I ever known a feeling 

like your eyes upon mine. 

This is madness, it is inane. (do you feel the same?)

I wish to feel your skin beneath my fingers. 

I wish to know the sound of my name from your lips. 

To know the markings of your nails,

like a map upon my back. 

To touch the branding that you’ll leave 

upon my neck. 

Let me beseech your name, in a temple made of pillows;

of blankets entangled and shades drawn close. 

Speak my name as I make you mine, 

and stay forever within my arms.