Summer Camp by JSS
Spock knew why his parents had sent him away for a week, even though they hadn't really stated it outright. It didn't mean that he had to like this place. He understood the necessity for them to be alone during Sarek's Time, but he could not understand why they had decided to send him here, of all places. Here being Beaverhill Camp in the former country of Canada, Earth: a summer camp for teenagers from all Federation planets, the ad had stated. It was apparently favoured by Humans, however, as Spock was the only non-Terran there.
Spock's mother had advocated it as an opportunity to better acquaint himself with her home planet, where half of Spock's ancestry originated, and as an opportunity to get new friends. Spock wondered why she had any faith that he would be able to befriend anyone on Earth in one week when he hadn't been able to do so on Vulcan for 15.32 years. Spock had certainly not shared her optimism, and he did so even less now that he was here. There had already been a round of introductions as well as two games they had to play in order to learn the others' names (which Spock had initially decided not to play, since he he had already learned their names during the introductions, but which the camp leaders had made him join anyway – it was, apparently, a 'bonding experience'), and none of the other teenagers had seemed like someone Spock would want to get to know better, based on their behaviour. He had already detected xenophobic tendencies in four of them.
Mrs. Kirk, one of the camp leaders, rang an obnoxiously loud bell to indicate that lunch was served, and Spock went to the head of the line so he could take a seat before the others and wouldn't have to ask anyone if he could sit next to them. He was given his separately made vegetarian meal and sat down at a table and began eating, deliberately not looking up at the others as they decided where to sit. It seemed that the rest of the group had formed cliques already, and not wanting to be split up, they squeezed in more people at each table than there was actually room for (at least if they wanted to be able to eat comfortably), and by the time everyone had sat down, all the tables were filled except Spock's, where he remained alone.
Spock was aware of Mrs. Kirk's gaze on him as she put her hands on her hips and sighed, not loudly, but loud enough for his Vulcan ears to hear. She turned to the other tables. "Listen, everyone. I think it would be a good idea if you tried to fill all the tables instead of squeezing together like this. You can hardly move your arms enough to eat!"
The kids immediately began protesting, wanting to spend time with their new friends (which was the word they used, although Spock hardly believed anyone could claim to have built a friendship in so short a time), but Mrs. Kirk insisted, and a few of them grudgingly made their way over to Spock's table. Spock didn't look up, and he told himself he was fine with being left out of the conversation when the others began talking amongst themselves. In fact, he was relieved; they were only talking about inane and unsignificant matters anyway, and it was not a discussion he had any wish to join. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mrs. Kirk looking at him with concern. Her concern was unnecessary; Spock was used to his type of situation.
When Spock had finished eating (which was long before the others, since they were spending most of their time on idle 'chit-chat', as his mother would call it), he went outside to get away from the conversations which, combined, were starting to grate on his ears. Humans had a significantly less structured method of conversing than Vulcans, and the result was that they often spoke at the same time, that one conversation split into two or more (depending on the number of participants) and that they therefore sometimes spoke quite loudly, at least when compared to Vulcan interlocutors, in order to be heard.
The fresh air and the silence outside were like a balm to Spock's mind, and he decided to walk around for a bit, enjoying it while he could. He went over to the shed where he had been told that the equipment for the different activities were kept. There was nothing remarkable about it, and he turned his attention to a bird call he could hear from just past the shed and to the right. He followed the sound, and looked up to see a small, red-chested bird perched on a branch.
"Hey."
Spock whipped his head around faster than he would have liked. Vulcans were not startled. There was a boy, probably around his own and the others' age, sitting on this side of the shed, leaning against the wall and looking bored (or so Spock thought; he was not very good at interpreting Human facial expressions).
"Hello."
The boy squinted against the sun as he looked up at Spock, and remained quiet for a while. Spock was beginning to wonder if he wasn't going to speak again, but then he did.
"You don't belong with the others."
Spock didn't know why the statement made him feel somewhat affronted; it was true, after all. He was already entirely aware of it, though, and did not need anyone to inform him of the fact.
"Hey, don't worry," the boy said casually as he took his eyes off Spock and began pulling a carton of some kind out of one of his jeans pockets. "That's practically a compliment." Spock wondered how the Human might have come to the conclusion that Spock had been 'worrying', which he had not, but he was pleased to hear that the boy seemed to share his opinion of the other teenagers.
The boy flicked his eyes up to Spock again and patted the ground next to him, and after a moment of consideration Spock sat down with him, although he could not explain why.
He wondered who the boy was; he had not seen him earlier that day. "You were not there during the introductions and the... games, earlier. Or lunch."
"Nah," the boy said, fiddling with the carton, turning it over in his hands. "I'm not attending the camp."
Spock waited for him to explain why he was there, then, but instead he played with the carton some more before eventually flipping the top of it open, holding it out to Spock. "Want one?"
Spock recognised the objects inside as cigarettes, which he had seen in some of his mother's Terran movies, but never on Vulcan. He had to admit that he had been curious about cigarettes, but he also knew they were illegal for those under the age of 18. Yet the boy didn't seem to be bothered by that fact.
"No, thank you."
The boy shrugged and pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth and lit it, then pulled in a deep breath which made the end of the cigarette glow orange before he blew out a breath of smoke. Some of it floated in Spock's direction, and he discovered that he found the smell pleasant, even though he had read that non-smokers typically did not like the smell of tobacco smoke.
The boy continued to smoke in silence. Spock wondered if that meant he wasn't interested in talking, but then he had been the one to initiate conversation between them, so Spock assumed it would be okay if he asked a question. "Why are you here, if you are not attending the camp?"
The boy shrugged again. "Mom's one of the camp leaders, and I stay here in the summers. I help out a little bit – in the kitchen, cleaning... that kinda stuff. The big question is, why are you here? I know you don't want to."
Perhaps being affected by the boy's nonchalant attitude (and perhaps also as a tiny revenge on his parents for having sent him here), the truth slipped out of Spock, and he didn't even regret it afterwards. What did it matter if some stranger knew? Besides, Vulcans didn't lie.
"My parents sent me here so they could engage in coitus frequently over the course of several days."
A light cough came from the boy, and Spock knew it was from surprise.
"Shit. They told you that?"
"They did not. However, I know for a fact that that is the reason."
The boy turned and gave Spock a scrutinising look as he took another pull off his cigarette and blew the smoke to the side, away from Spock. "You just disproved everything I thought I knew about Vulcans. Sure you don't want a cigarette after all?" He smirked. "Or maybe just a drag?" He held the cigarette out to Spock.
Not quite knowing what had come over him, Spock took the cigarette between his fingers. His parents were far away (16.04 lightyears to be exact), and for the first time in his life, sitting here with this boy whom he didn't even know the name of, Spock dared to act without worrying about consequences.
He brought the cigarette to his mouth and placed it between his lips, and then inhaled. And was promptly sent into a coughing fit. He held the cigarette out to the boy, who took it from him, while coughing into the elbow of the other arm. When he stopped coughing his eyes were stinging, and the boy was regarding him with a smirk.
"First time?"
Spock nodded, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. He didn't want to seem inexperienced in front of this boy, although he wasn't certain why.
Suddenly, Spock remembered the schedule for the day, and realised that he had to get ready for the hike they were going on. He rose to his feet. "I must go."
The boy blew a puff of smoke. "Alright. See you later."
Spock turned and walked away, wishing he could have stayed there with the boy instead of having to join the group of chattering, noisy adolescents. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice in the matter.
When they came back from the hike (during which Spock had tried to walk mostly by himself and study the flora of the area, only to be told repeatedly that he had to keep up with the rest of them), it was time for dinner. Once again, Spock sat down alone while the others gathered at the other tables. Mrs. Kirk seemed concerned again, and looked as if she couldn't decide whether or not to tell the other teenagers that they needed to spread out evenly among the tables or not. Spock hoped she would just let him sit alone.
Spock was concentrating on his food when he suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Hey, Mom. Thought I'd eat here today."
Spock looked up just as the boy from earlier sat down across the table from him.
"So," the boy said as he speared a meatball with his fork. "You never told me your name."
"My name is Spock."
"Cool," the boy replied, slightly muffled by the meatball he had begun chewing. He swallowed before he spoke again. "I'm Jim."
Spock didn't know how to reply, so he didn't. Neither of them spoke again during the meal, and for the first time in his life, Spock understood the meaning of the term "companionable silence". With Jim there, Spock was able to ignore the noisiness from the other tables, as well as the fact that he was out of his element here. He didn't feel quite so out of place now that Jim was sitting with him.
Spock ate more slowly than he had at lunch, enjoying Jim's quiet company, and Jim seemed to be trying to prolong his meal as well. They finished eating shortly after the other teenagers had left their tables, and Jim rose.
"It was nice eating with you. Anyway, I have to clear the dishes and clean the kitchen now. I'll see you around."
"Yes. Good evening, Jim."
Spock retreated back to the 8-bed dorm room where his things were, found one of his books and lay down on his bed – the lower bunk of a bunk bed – and closed the privacy curtain.
After that, they developed a routine: they ate together in comfortable silence whenever Jim wasn't busy during mealtimes, and they met behind the shed whenever none of them had to be somewhere else. They didn't talk much, but somehow they didn't need to. They would just sit together, enjoying each other's company (or at least Spock was fairly certain Jim enjoyed it as well, even though his laid-back nature made him seem almost indifferent – why else would he voluntarily spend so much time with Spock?). Jim would always offer him a smoke, or a drag from his own cigarette, but he never pressed Spock when he refused, just accepted it and continued smoking.
Spending time with Jim became the highlights of Spock's days. He still did not find himself enjoying the activities he had to take part in along with the other teenagers (especially not the day when the activity was canoeing, and he had refused because the boats looked highly unstable and likely to capsize, and several of the others had rolled their eyes and scoffed at him), but somehow the time he got to spend with Jim was worth it. Spock found himself wondering if perhaps – despite having estimated the probability of it happening to be less than 1.2 percent at the beginning of the camp – he had made a friend.
On one of the last nights, when Jim offered him a smoke, Spock hesitated. The experience from the first day still lingered with him, but for some reason the idea of being able to sit and smoke together with Jim – of the two of them doing something illegal together, in secret, appealed to him. He did not understand how the Human could have had such an influence on him in such a short time.
Apparently, Jim noticed Spock's hesitancy. "I think I know a way to do it that wouldn't make it as bad as the first time. The smoke wouldn't be as concentrated."
Spock wondered if he should feel ashamed of how little time it took before he nodded.
"Okay. Open your mouth."
Spock did as he said, and then Jim took a drag from his cigarette, held his breath – and leaned slowly towards Spock. Spock's breath hitched and his eyes fluttered closed as Jim's lips met his, and then he was breathing in the warm, smoky air Jim exhaled.
Jim pulled away, and Spock blew a puff of light grey smoke into the air. He did not particularly enjoy the taste of the smoke (unlike the smell of it, which he had come to associate with Jim), but he found he didn't care.
He met Jim's gaze. "That was... acceptable."
Jim's eyes flicked down to Spock's mouth, and he worried his lower lip between his teeth. "Again?"
Spock nodded, and soon Jim's lips met his once more, one of his hands cupping Spock's jaw. He lingered for a while, their lips moving together slowly before Jim pulled away so Spock could exhale the smoke.
Spock leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He didn't resist when he felt Jim's hands on his knees, pushing them apart to kneel between them, and when he felt Jim's nose touch the side of his own, he tilted his mouth towards Jim's, seeking his lips.
After a while of Jim continuing to breathe smoke into Spock's mouth, Spock felt as if he was inadvertently beginning to tilt to one side, and immediately put a hand on the ground to steady himself and opened his eyes only to find that he was still sitting straight up.
Jim gave him a curious look. "You okay?"
"I find myself somewhat dizzy."
"The nicotine'll do that to you if you're not used to it. You're not nauseous, though?"
Spock shook his head. Apart from the dizziness, the smoke merely seemed to make him relaxed.
"Good."
Jim's piercing blue eyes were fixed on Spock's, and then he took another pull off the cigarette and leaned in again while he crushed the butt against the wall to the side of Spock's head. After having exhaled, Jim let his tongue touch Spock's and ended it with a kiss before pulling away.
Jim got to his feet and gave Spock a little smile. "See you later." Then he turned around and left.
Spock felt somewhat bewildered, but he didn't really mind that Jim had left. He liked that about Jim; that he was a little strange and mysterious. Spock sat for a while longer, enjoying his state of relaxation and waiting for the smell of tobacco smoke to fade. He touched his lips and let them quirk slightly at the corners.
Spock couldn't sleep. Possibly because of the soft snores and murmurs the others were making, although Spock had been able to sleep through those sounds before. It was more likely, Spock thought, that the reason for his wakefulness was that he could not stop thinking about Jim.
Spock turned on his reading light and pulled out a book from his bag. The light was bright in the darkness, but it would not disturb anyone as there were privacy curtains around all the bunks.
Spock had only read thirteen pages when he heard the door to the room open. Strange; no one had left the room to use the facilities. Spock listened to the sound of bare feet against the floor as the person came further into the room. Then the person was standing right next to Spock's bunk, and gripped his privacy curtain. Spock frowned, wondering if someone was about to play a prank on him. The curtain was pulled to the side, and it revealed Jim, standing there in only pajama pants.
He sat down on the edge of Spock's bed, making sure not to hit his head on the top bunk. He looked at Spock as if waiting for something, and Spock wasn't sure what it was that made him nod at Jim; inviting him in, he realised only after he had done it. Jim crawled into the bed and closed the curtain behind him as he slid under the covers.
Spock turned to Jim, heart beginning to beat faster in his side although he didn't know, exactly, what would be happening. Jim reached above their heads and turned off the reading light, and everything went completely dark. Now without his sight, Spock's hearing seemed to become more acute. He heard Jim's breathing, and his own, and the rustle of fabric as Jim leaned closer. Jim's hands located Spock's lips by touch, and then Jim's own lips were covering them. Spock tried to stay quiet as he responded to Jim's kiss, their breaths and the slick sounds of their kissing obscenely loud to Spock's ears. He hoped none of the others were awake, although nothing had indicated that they were.
Jim pressed closer against him, and a harsh breath from his nose hit Spock's cheek as their mouths continued to explore each other. The intimate sounds, seeming so loud in the relative silence of the room, went straight to Spock's groin, and he felt himself beginning to harden. It seemed to be having a similar effect on Jim; Spock could feel his erection poking his thigh. Jim grabbed Spock's hip and pulled him even closer, beginning to grind slowly against him, and Spock let out a muffled sound of surprise against Jim's mouth. Surely Jim didn't intend to — he couldn't possibly —
Spock forgot what he was thinking as Jim thrust harder against him, and his hips pushed up against Jim's. They began moving slowly together, trying not to rock the bed and inadvertently wake the occupant of the upper bunk.
The kiss was broken with a wet sound, and Spock felt his arousal surge at feeling Jim's warm, moist breath against his cheek and hearing their combined quiet panting, along with the rustling sound of the bed sheets as they moved against each other. The complete darkness seemed, somehow, to make every little sound they created intimate and arousing.
Jim stopped thrusting, and Spock exhaled softly when he suddenly felt Jim's hands on the waistband of his pants. Jim's hands paused there, as if he was asking Spock for permission. Spock couldn't speak, and Jim wouldn't see it if he nodded, so he raised his hips, and then Jim's hands were sliding down his hips and his thighs, removing his pajama bottoms. Then Jim moved around a little, and when he straddled Spock's thighs, he was no longer wearing his own.
Spock couldn't help the low moan that escaped him when a hand trailed up his inner thigh and then wrapped around his cock, and he hoped that none of the others were actually awake. He knew that they were not actually being noisy, but the darkness and the stillness made every sound more conspicuous, and he knew that if anyone else in the room were actually awake, they would doubtlessly have heard something.
Spock didn't actually think anyone else was awake, but he had no desire to wake anyone up, so when Jim suddenly began stroking his cock with a firm grip, Spock's body tensed as he fought to stay completely silent.
Then Spock's right hand was taken in Jim's – the one that was not wrapped around his erection – and placed on Jim's cock. Spock traced the shape of it, creating an image of it in his mind. He curled his fist around it and began pumping, and Jim's breathing became louder.
Someone in another bunk coughed, and Spock froze for a moment, thinking they might have woken the person up, but thankfully they continued snoring after not too long.
He and Jim returned to what they were doing and soon began moving their hands faster, and Spock felt his breath stutter and tremble as he tried to breathe calmly instead of panting, and he could tell that Jim's breath was hitched and erratic as well. Jim leaned down and rested his head beside Spock's, breathing almost directly into Spock's ear, and Spock had to bite his lip in order to stay silent.
Spock was rapidly approaching completion, and it became harder and harder to get enough air while trying to breathe slowly, and his breathing became more and more erratic and harsh. From the sound of it, Jim was in much the same state. Spock felt himself trembling as he was about to climax, and he held his breath in an attempt to keep himself from moaning or exhaling loudly.
Spock's lungs tried to force the air out of him when he came, but he managed to keep holding his breath as he came harder than he had ever done by his own hand, his cum smearing his stomach and Jim's hand and cock. When he began to come down from his climax, he finally released his breath with a quiet grunt, and just then Jim came as well, shuddering and exhaling a long, slow breath.
Jim collapsed on top of Spock, their chests heaving for air. They stayed like that for several minutes until their breathing had returned to normal, and the room seemed strangely quiet again, save for the soft snoring and breathing of the others who were sleeping.
After a while, Jim pulled his pajama bottoms on, gave Spock a kiss and crawled out of the bunk. Once again, Spock listened to the sound of Jim's bare feet against the floor, and then the door was opened and closed again.
Spock put his own pajama pants on and then let his head fall back to the pillow, contemplating the absurdity of what they had just done and letting his lips curve into an almost-smile as he began to drift to sleep.
The next morning, Spock found that the pajama pants he was wearing were not the same he had worn when he had gone to bed the night before.
On the last day, Spock met Jim behind the shed again while waiting for the shuttle that would pick him, and the rest of the teenagers, up. Both of them spoke less than usual as they sat beside each other while Jim smoked.
When there were five minutes left until the shuttle would arrive, Jim picked up the half-full pack of cigarettes and handed it to Spock. "Here. Take this."
Spock cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the carton in Jim's hands. "You are aware that I do not actually smoke."
"I know. Keep it as a memory. Along with my pajama pants." Jim smirked.
Spock acquiesced and took the pack of cigarettes, and then one of them – Spock wasn't sure who – leaned towards the other, and then they kissed until they could hear the shuttle arriving. They got up and walked to the shuttle together, picking up Spock's bag, which he had placed outside, on the way.
Spock wished it wouldn't have to be the last time he ever spoke to Jim, but Jim had not mentioned wanting to keep in contact, so Spock hadn't asked him for his contact details; they had only known each other for a week, after all, and he shouldn't push Jim to keep in touch if he didn't want to.
Jim put a hand on Spock's chin and gave him a brief kiss. Spock ignored the gaping of the other teenagers; Jim's mother staring at them was somewhat harder to ignore.
Spock took a step away. "Goodbye, Jim."
"Bye, Spock. It was nice getting to know you."
"Likewise," Spock said before turning around and entering the shuttle. It was ironic, he thought, that coming here had been the last thing he wanted, and now the last thing he wanted was to leave.
Sitting in his bed on the ship back to Vulcan, Spock pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket where he had put it, and opened it. He held it up to his nose and smelled it; it smelled like Jim.
Just as he was about to close it again, he noticed something; a small, black mark on one of the cigarettes. He pulled it out, and when he turned it around, he saw what it was: Jim's comm number. He checked another cigarette, and on it was part of Jim's address; on yet another was the other part of the address.
All of Jim's contact details were on the cigarettes, Spock realised, and he allowed himself a tiny smile. Suddenly, going back home wasn't as bad as it could have been.
~fin~