The BLTS Archive - pon farr again?
by halwen

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Published: 09-26-06

Updated: 09-26-06

This is the second crack!fic I've churned out in as many days. Now if
only I could put this much effort into my work...

Anyway, this is a oneshot based on a simple biological premise:

Humans have sex more often than once every seven years, right? So if
the average of 7 (years between Vulcan sex) and 0 (years between human
sex) is 3.5, even accounting for Spock's Vulcan genes to be dominant,
he's going to go through pon farr more often than usual. Got it? Good.
Off we go!

WARNING: m/m.unbeta'ed fic. I may remove later, or drastically change,
if I come back and decide that this is cr- er, bad writing.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing and make nothing from this.

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Spock walked by the Captain's quarters. He was carrying a padd and
seemed to be heading – with what was, for the Vulcan, haste - towards 
the sickbay.

Ten minutes later he went past again, this time headed to engineering.

Fifteen minutes later a pointy-eared figure was on the path to the
library, which coincidentally took him past the Captain's quarters.

'It is illogical to continue this.' 'This is not illogical. There are
errands to run.' 'Others can perform these duties. I am
second-in-command of this starship: I do not have to relay messages.'
'But I had nothing else to do, it is logical to use my time in a
constructive manner.' 'That is untrue: I must recalibrate the aft-port
sensors.' 'Which will take me past his quarters again.' 'Is that so?'
'That is indeed so.' 'It is illogical to talk to myself.' 'It is
indeed.' 'I must stop.' 'I must. But first I should fix the sensors.'

"Spock? Did you need me for something?"

If Jim hadn't known better, he would have sworn that his first officer
hadn't noticed him. Spock had. . .  not flinched; he was too
controlled for that. But he had seemed. . .  disconcerted, which
wasn't a state often achieved by the Vulcan-bred officer. Jim couldn't
be certain, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, the feet that had
been passing his door sporadically for the past three hours –and in
the middle of a duty shift, no less- might belong to his science
officer.

"I. . .  am facing certain. . .  difficulties, Captain."

Jim frowned. Usually Spock called him by his given name, unless they
were on the bridge or in a staff meeting.

"Why don't you come in and tell me about it, then?"

Spock looked as if he might refuse, but gave in, if such a controlled
being could ever acquiesce so blatantly. Jim preceded him, then leaned
against the wall while Spock stood in the middle of the room, looking
uncomfortable. They stood there silently, just looking at each other,
until the Vulcan broke the silence.

"Captain, I must, under Starfleet regulation 106.9 section h
subsection xvii, inform you of a situation that may prevent me from
fully performing my duties as your first officer." He paused while Jim
bit back a frown. Spock seemed to be almost avoiding the topic.

"Out with it, Spock. What's wrong?"

"I am experiencing pon farr."

Of all the things Jim had expected Spock to say, that wasn't one of
them.

"But you said that was only once every seven years."

"Indeed, Captain." There it was again: 'Captain'. "But it would seem
that my rather –unique- heritage has changed the patterns of my
hormonal excretions and decreased the effectiveness of my training."

". . .  Which means?"

"It means that I am again experiencing pon farr."

"But Spock. . .  we're light-years from Vulcan. . .

" "Indeed, Captain. I ask only that you ensure delivery of this-" Here
Spock gravely held out a padd. "- to the Lady Amanda. Goodbye,
Captain."  Spock turned to leave, but Jim grabbed his arm.

"Spock, are you telling me you're just going to let yourself die?"

"It would seem that I have no other choice. This mission-"

"Spock, I'm not going to let you just throw away your life?"

Now Spock did seem to be losing some of his Vulcan calm. "What else
would you suggest, Captain?"

That did give Kirk pause. What could he do to prevent his officer –
and his best friend - from essentially committing suicide by hormone
overload. Then he got an idea. A horrible, wicked, evil –and above all
lustful- idea.

"Spock. . .  isn't there a somewhat more obvious way of relieving
this. . .  tension?"

". . . Captain?"

"I've never known you to be this dense, Spock."

"I am afraid I do not comprehend you, Captain."

Jim slowly, obviously, gave him the patented Kirk Once-Over. The
Vulcan/human was actually very attractive, in a lean, rangy way. He
hadn't done this since the Academy- hadn't had a chance, actually,
despite his own wishes, because aliens just seemed to throw themselves
at him. Not that he minded, mostly. But here was a chance to help a
friend for whom he had occasionally entertained more-than-friendly
thoughts; he would be a fool not to take the opportunity, and James
Tiberius Kirk was no fool.

Spock was uncharacteristically oblivious. "Captain, I must ask to be
excused-"

"Shut up, Spock."

Spock shut up, helped along the way by an insistent pair of lips.

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The End