Summary: Pockie has an owie and Kirk has something amusing to bandage it up with.

Light Blue

R-rated Kirk/Spock fiction by Farfalla

"I need to pay a visit to the barber," Captain Kirk remarked in a modest brag to his first officer as they scampered over a sandy ridge. "I feel positively shaggy."

Spock, having seen the inflated heights to which Kirk's naturally curly hair could rise if allowed to go untrimmed, quickly replied. "I agree." He picked up his tricorder and scanned the lowlands in front of them. "Herd animals again, Captain."

"The same kind as before?" Kirk asked, squinting into the sunny valley.

"Impossible to say without further observation." They made their way down into the valley carefully. The hills were composed of large sand particles with very loosely adhesive properties, and Kirk kept feeling like one misstep would send him sledding on his rear end down into the valley.

"The animals are just beyond this thicket of brambles," Spock informed him, when they'd reached the bottom of the slope.

They approached as quietly as they could, trying to avoid the thorny branches as best they could. When they'd cleared the thicket, they were treated to the sight of about a dozen tiny hooved animals enjoying a trickling stream. Some stood in the water, drinking from the creek or eating water plants, and others snoozed on the riverbank.

"Looks like the same animals to me," Kirk remarked.

"Yes," said Spock. "They resemble the 'hyracotherium' or 'eohippus', the ancient ancestors of Earth's horse."

"Can they be used as a food source for the colony?" Kirk played with his poofy hair. The high noon sun was making it sweaty. "At least for dairy."

"The specialized dietitians, agriculturalists, and ecologists aboard the Enterprise are best suited to answer that question once their research has been conducted," Spock answered modestly, "but I expect that this species, if not overexploited, could well serve as a reliable native livestock for the new colony."

Kirk's communicator chirped. "Kirk here."

"Cap'n, it's Lieutenant Ritchie," came a shrill woman's brogue. "There's more'a the little beasties in the valley with the big rocks in 'em."

"Yes, Lieutenant, we found another little herd ourselves," said Kirk. "Are you ready to start taking samples?"

"As soon as ye give the order."

"Proceed, Lieutenant. And if their milk's safe to drink, save me some for lunch." Kirk smiled at the thought of fresh milk after months of soy on board the starship.

"Will do, Cap'n! Ritchie out."

Kirk closed his communicator away. "These berries safe?" He cocked his head at the brambles.

"Negative, Captain. They are presently unripe and--"

Kirk held up his hand. "Say no more. I grew up in a rural community and I've eaten enough green berries to turn the entire ship's stomach."

"Shall we explore one more valley before your stomach calls us back to base?" Spock inquired.

"Lead on."

The two men crossed the stream at its narrowest point, walking carefully over the smoothed-over stones rising from its center. They weren't even a little bit slippery, because the mid-day sun had baked them bone-dry. Meters down the stream, one of the horselings picked up its head and looked at them curiously, but it appeared to find them unthreatening and did not raise the alarm to the others.

Kirk wondered how long that would last once the new colony was set up.

They began to climb the next hill. "This planet has a lot of good points," Kirk commented. "Good weather, nice climate... I hope whatever they set up here makes maximum use of its potential."

"I believe--" Spock started to say, but just then, the pebbles beneath his feet slipped out from underneath. He slid down the hill, coming to a dusty, ungraceful halt by scrabbling at the sand with his fingers.

Kirk hadn't been close enough to catch him, but he hurried over as quickly as he could--taking care not to repeat Spock's tumble. He crouched beside the scuffed Vulcan. "Spock! You all right?"

"I am... mostly uninjured," Spock replied tentatively, examining his limbs from a sitting position. When he attempted to move his left leg, an irritating burning became obvious on his left knee. He quickly rolled up the leg of his uniform pants beyond the knee.

A large green scrape decorated Spock's knee. A bruise was also beginning to form. "Wow, that's colorful," Kirk remarked. "Does it hurt?"

"It is an annoyance," said Spock. He began brushing the dust from his uniform.

"I don't want to ignore something like that, not on an alien world with who knows what kind of diseases floating around." Kirk rummaged in his field kit for the standard issue first aid equipment. "Hm," he said, more to himself than to Spock.

Spock raised his eyebrow in question.

"There's disinfecting spray in here, and gauze, but it looks like it ran out of bandages and nobody replaced them," Kirk explained.

"Do you carry a pocket handkerchief?" Spock asked.

Kirk chuckled. "Actually, yes." His face reddened slightly as he reached into his right back pocket and retrieved a simple square of light blue cloth. He ruffled it, and it unfolded to a larger dimension.

Spock examined the captain's face. "Why are you amused by my solution?" he inquired.

Kirk took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's a lucky charm. An--illogical--souvenir of my days as a lieutenant, teaching at the Academy."

"I fail to see what is so illogical," argued Spock, "considering it has proven itself useful in the field."

Kirk sprayed some of the disinfectant onto Spock's knee, then cleaned off the damaged area gently with disposable swabs. "I just never thought I'd be using it for anything practical--not anymore."

"Jim, is there some significance to this cloth you are not disclosing?" Spock did not wince at the sting of the spray--he was a Good Little Vulcan.

"Ever heard of the hankie code?" Jim asked, patting Spock's knee with more disposable swabs to dry the area.

"No, I am not familiar in that particular programming language," Spock answered in complete innocence.

Kirk grinned at him with a face so adoringly sappy Spock wondered if he'd been touched by the sun. "Captain, you should have another drink from your canteen."

After taking the requested draught from his canteen and chuckling into it, Kirk put down the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The hankie code--isn't computer code, Spock," he began. "It started in the twentieth century as a way for gay men looking for a quick hookup in bars to be able to find someone to fulfill a specific role in that evening's... adventures." He pressed the gauze to Spock's knee.

Spock placed his fingers over the gauze himself, holding it there while Kirk folded the hankie into a thick strip. "How was the code organized?" he asked curiously.

"Whatever color your handkerchief was let the other patrons in the bar know what you were looking for, at least for that night," Kirk explained, smoothing out the folds in the blue cloth. "White had to do with hand jobs--uh, manual sex... red means fisting..." He wracked his brain. "Black means bdsm. I don't remember that much of the rest."

"I see," said Spock. "Fascinating. And the system was devised to spare time and embarrassment for patrons with these specific tastes?"

"Sounds like you've got the general idea." Kirk tied the light blue cloth around Spock's left knee, while Spock held the gauze securely in place beneath it.

"While I, personally, do not find the prospect of casual sex appealing," Spock said, "the system of communication you describe is highly logical for the given situation."

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Spock. That comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Not cutting off blood flow?"

"No." Spock moved his leg around to test his ease of movement. "Might I inquire, Jim, what the color of light blue indicates? Since it is the one you possess, it stands to reason that you should remember that one."

Kirk grinned. "Oral sex."

"Ah," said Spock. He looked down at his knee.

"There's more to the code," Kirk continued, returning the first aid supplies to his kit. "Wearing it on the left side means you want things to be done to you, and wearing it on the right means... that you'd... like to do the things."

"Your handkerchief came from your right pocket," Spock observed.

"So it did." Kirk smiled again. "I wasn't part of that bar scene, but some... friends of mine knew my tastes, and bought the hankie for me as a joke. Their words were something to the effect of that it would keep me safe out in space, because... a cocksucker is too valuable a person to be harmed."

"And now the handkerchief is on my leg--my *left* leg." Spock inspected the sturdiness of the knot.

A beam of sunlight shone from Kirk's face. "Well, you... certainly were well-behaved while I was treating your scrape," he said playfully, a little tentatively as well. "You deserve a treat."

Spock rolled his uniform pant leg back down to his ankle, hiding the handkerchief. Then he slowly picked himself up off the ground. Kirk studied him carefully, hoping he hadn't offended his friend by pushing too hard, too fast.

Spock returned his curious gaze. "Does the hankie code include a color for 'deep, long-term commitment'?"

"How about light blue with green stains?" Kirk asked brazenly.

Spock cocked his head and raised one eyebrow. Kirk offered his hand.

"We should return to the base for lunch," Spock said, taking it in his own. "I must ensure that my human remains healthy and strong."

Kirk felt like a million bucks.

Later, they divided the lucky handkerchief between them. Kirk decided that, after the adventures of the day, it was definitely lucky enough to go around.

Farfalla's Kirk/Spock happyplace