The Perils of a Bad Laugh

Title: The Perils of a Bad Laugh
Fandom: STXI
Characters: Spock, Kirk
Rating: G-
Warnings: None
Notes: Somebody asked for Kirk pissing himself. I decided it should be while laughing, but somehow this turned into the least funny cacklefest, ever.

From this prompt:
I want kirk to pee himself. I don't really care about the circumstances, whether he was scared or holding it in too long or what. But I want him to lose it, and Spock notices. Just go from there. PLEASE help the depraved anon out! :(

It started with a giggle. Spock stared in horror as his captain began to snicker, staggering back against the wall of the cell as the snicker progressed into a cackle. This was going to go bad very quickly, if this progression kept up. The human body expected a certain amount of oxygenation and relaxation, and when that didn't happen, the captain was going to black out — if he was lucky.

"Captain, I must insist that you breathe." Spock stepped forward to catch Kirk as the latter began to fall to his knees. "Calm yourself."

Laughing gas, Spock surmised, looking around for the vent, but not N₂O, or I'd be feeling it, too… He is also laughing, but showing no signs of exhaustion from the chemical itself.

He pulled Kirk away from the wall, laying him on the floor by the bars, while he took another look around the cell. Somewhere there would be a vent, and if he could just block it, they would both be fine. Spock wasn't sure if it was an effect of the gas or the captain's now-hysterical laughter, but he'd broken out in a cold sweat. He could hear Kirk choking on his inhalations, and his fingers moved more swiftly across the stone of the walls, seeking the crack.

By the time he'd found it — sticking a finger into the stream of cold gas blowing from a joint in the stone — Kirk was red-faced and braying, more air exiting his body than entering it. Spock tore a piece of his shirt sleeve, chewed the cloth, and crammed it into the hole. Minutes passed before the air cleared, by which point the captain was wheezing and giggling, curled into a ball. As panting became the dominant sound, Spock knelt beside Kirk, trying to push the captain's knees away from his chest, to make breathing easier, but Kirk batted his hands away. Unable to speak, yet, Kirk shook his head, tucking his heels up closer to his body.

"Captain, are you in an acceptable condition?" Spock asked, hands stayed just above Kirk's body, ready to take any necessary action.

Kirk flipped a hand, dismissively. More or less, it said.

"What hurts?" Spock asked, and was unsurprised when Kirk pointed to his face and chest. That was to be expected after that much laughter, whether it was actually funny or not. But, Kirk wasn't telling him everything — the captain hadn't looked at his face, yet, and that was an unusual state of affairs.

"Captain, what aren't —" And that was when the smell hit him, not strong, but definitely present. "I see. Your bladder has emptied from the strain. Under the circumstances, I see no shame in that, Captain, but if you like, I will help you return to your quarters without attracting further attention, when we return to the ship."

Kirk just nodded, remaining curled up on the floor, more from the sprains he'd taken in the cackling fit, than anything else. At the present rate of things, though, it was likely his pants would be long dry by the time they were found.