Title: 5+1: Spock Wins… Usually.
Characters: Kirk, Spock
Warnings: Kirk’s mouth, violence
Notes: Another crackmeme classic. In TOS, Spock always wins, when he gets all emotionally compromised and starts beating on Jim. OP asked for five of the classics and one where Jim gets to win for a change. I, however, am in love with fail!Kirk, so it’s a little less winful than it might’ve been… I suggest Chemlab’s Binary Nation as a soundtrack, here.
From this prompt:
Watching TOS and noticed, anytime kirk and spock have a physical fight, Spock is like "Your ass. let me hand it to you"
So in honor of that, 5 fights Spock won and 1 fight Kirk won.
Feel free to insert sexy times anywhere.
The first time Spock was emotionally compromised into a fistfight, it wasn’t much of a fight, at all. Or that’s what they told him, anyway. He really didn’t remember much, until he came to something vaguely related to his senses, with his hands wrapped around Cadet Kirk’s neck. It wouldn’t take much to end it all, right then, he knew, and the idea was sorely tempting. That smarmy little know-it-all just had a habit of making him irate — an effect Kirk seemed to have on quite a number of people.
He just watched the Cadet’s eyes fade for a few moments, before he let go and excused himself. He’d just lost his home and his family — everything he loved and hated in the world, with the exception of his father, and this annoyingly cunning cadet. When he took Kirk down — and he probably would; it was the logical thing to do, to remove the annoyances from one’s life — he wanted no questions about whether he’d been in his right mind. It would be something he intended. It would be on his terms, not Kirk’s.
After the Narada, they were both twitchy, each in a different way. Kirk was overly jovial — drinking and joking, talking about the beauty of space and the joy of being alive. Spock retreated into himself so far, that not even Nyota could bring him out, most days. He did his job. He did not have any desire to speak of irrelevant things, frivolous or morbid.
But, every day, he slipped a little farther down. It took just a millisecond more to respond to his name.
He reacted instinctively, the day he didn’t hear Kirk address him. He felt the hand on his shoulder, and before he had looked up from the console, his elbow had met someone’s solar plexus, then his knuckles, their throat. He realised who was behind him as he turned and rose from the chair, simultaneously, his other fist connecting with the Captain’s face. Kirk dropped like a sack of mashyalar, and Spock stood, stunned, for a few long seconds.
"Lieutenant Uhura, please contact Dr. McCoy. Inform the captain, when he wakes, that I am already in the brig," he ordered, calmly, walking off the bridge.
A few hours later, Kirk came and dragged him out of the brig, against Spock’s better judgement. He’d accidentally punched out his captain. It was entirely unacceptable behaviour. But, Kirk convinced him that friends were the people who didn’t mind when you punched them, as long as they either had it coming, or you apologised for it, later. Spock decided he’d never get the hang of human interaction.
Some days, Spock could swear his captain was trying to get on his last nerve.
He’d agreed to teach Kirk how to defend himself against angry vulcanoids, since, more often than not, that was the one thing with which Kirk still seemed to have difficulties. With Kirk, of course, it was impossible to convey the idea that the best way to avoid a fight with an angry vulcanoid was just not to irritate one. The man who saved the Alpha Quadrant could still generate ill intent in a Romulan at thirty light years and a Vulcan at twenty yards — and it was, Spock knew, quite a task, to annoy a Vulcan.
So, here they were, on the floor of the Recreation Room, clawing and hammering at each other, like a pair of male sehlats in the mating season. Kirk had finally learned to avoid the nerve pinch and might have broken one of Spock’s fingers, in the process, but he still hadn’t learned to compensate for the difference in speed and strength. Spock was fairly certain it was because such a thing was not possible, but who was he to say ‘impossible’ to a man who would only take it as a challenge. But, Kirk wasn’t faring too badly, for a human.
"Oh, fuck your mother," Kirk snarled, after a solid blow to the head, digging his toes into a rather sensitive and unexpected section of Vulcan anatomy.
Spock squawked unmanfully and punched the captain twice, rapidly, once in the throat and once in the jaw. He scrambled back, off Kirk’s foot, as the captain lay wheezing and gasping on the floor. "Captain, do not ever touch a Vulcan there, unless you have a strong desire to be dismembered. I trust I have both made my point and left you alive."
Kirk held up a thumb and then made the agreed upon sign that Spock should call the doctor.
Still, Kirk persisted. He became convinced that the only way to take down a raging vulcanoid — in this case, his increasingly irate first officer — was to take it by surprise. Spock was still faster, by a fair stretch and, at times, seemed to almost read his captain’s mind.
Spock couldn’t quite pinpoint what tipped him off — a shift in the air currents, a change in local pressure, the smell of Kirk’s aftershave — but it didn’t matter. The captain could not sneak up on Spock, under any circumstances. Attempts to do so tended to end in Spock batting the offending hand out of the air, and returning to his business. The crew understood that some sort of stealth training was occurring, because Kirk had made it clear that any attempts he made on Spock were not to be taken as serious threats, but rather as educational opportunities for observers.
This time, though, it was Kirk who was surprised. He lined the punch up perfectly with the base of Spock’s skull and launched himself silently at the Vulcan, only to be grabbed by the nostrils and introduced to the science console, forehead first. That did not go as planned. It might’ve been the concussion, but Kirk could swear he saw Spock smile as he slid to the deck and blacked out.
This one, Kirk really could’ve done without, but the necessity was clear. They’d gone after some renegade Romulans who’d been inspired by Nero’s near-success, and Kirk came to the conclusion that Spock was actually really slow for a vulcanoid. He’d forgotten the little things — like the long-term damage that had been done to Nero’s crew by the time spent on Rura Penthe and the lack of decent rations, while they waited for the emergence of the Jellyfish. He’d never fought a full-blooded vulcanoid at full strength, and twice-damned if Romulans weren’t terrifying creatures, up close and personal.
His brain rattled against his skull as he hit the wall again. Kirk could feel the Romulan hauling him to his feet and turning, probably to toss him into another wall, when he heard Spock’s voice behind him. The sound was comforting, until he parsed the words.
"I am the only one permitted to handle the captain in that fashion."
Then the world became a rushing-coloured haze of pain, as Spock punched him in the back of the head, and knocked the Romulan out with the transmitted impact. Kirk was unconscious before his forehead made contact. He learned, later, that Spock had to be sedated off the last Romulan in the encampment, well after the back of said Romulan’s skull and brain had been mashed into spackle by the force with which Spock had repeatedly slammed him into the ground.
In the end, Kirk was glad that Spock was on his side, most of the time, and he held a great deal more respect for the manner of his own survival during their first unpleasant physical encounter. Bones, however, was getting very tired of cleaning up after them.
that one time…
So, no shit, there they were, on some backwoods dump of a world, when they’d run into the locals. Except there weren’t any locals, according to the scans. There were no lifesigns larger than a small dog. Except, here they were, surrounded by the fifteen-pound locals. No one in this landing party would ever correlate size with evolutionary advancement, again.
"Hey! Hey!" shouted what appeared to be the leader of the group. "Hey, what are you doing here?"
Apparently, they had the temperament of small dogs, too. More the pity, that.
Kirk could feel Spock stepping up, behind him. "Nah, I got this one," he said, popping up the hand that still clutched his communicator, without looking back.
First, he felt his knuckles make contact with bone. Then he felt Spock crumple to the ground, coming to rest against his leg. Apparently, if one wants to take out a Vulcan, one hits them in the most glaringly obvious place — the big, pointy, heat-sync nose — at just that one particular angle that ruptures the major blood conduit and drops the blood pressure in the head abruptly. Who knew?
Green blood continued to spurt across Kirk’s knee, as he stared down in baffled fascination. By the time he looked back to the yappy natives, they’d all backed off a few feet. Kirk had become a demigod, in their easily distractable minds, and they’d be telling stories of the Tall Ones, for generations to come. So much for the Prime Directive…
"We come in peace," Kirk offered weakly.