Someone posted this in a Trek group:
Counter theory:
"My theory was always that Spock was the unhinged and wild one -- a rebel by Vulcan standards -- and he radicalized "stack of book with legs" Jim Kirk.😂
Spock was the one out there mind melding with every Horta, Nomad and V'Ger while Jim and Bones absolutely panicked in the background.
Then Jim usually ended up being the one to get Spock out of it, too. The Apple, Operation Annihilate, A Private Little War, The Infinite Vulcan, TMP . . . How many times did we see Kirk have to carry Spock body and limb and slightly on fire back to the ship after he got into it?
The amount of shit Jim has to do for Spock in Star Trek III alone.
Spock is like the Enterprise housecat who stubbornly insists on being an outdoor cat and keeps escaping, later having to be carried back indoors. He keeps causing mischief but everybody loves his ass anyway.
Kirk and Spock were chaotic messes who loved their frontier first contact work in TOS and onward -- they deserved each other.😂👌
Shit, cat got out again.
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Spocktober + Trektober Day 16 - Ion Storm
Oh no, an ion storm has caused a transporter malfunction! Whatever will they do?
(Poor Scotty...)
(ID under cut)
[Image ID: A black and white drawing of Jim Kirk, Spock, and Bones from Star Trek: The Original Series standing in the transporter room on the Enterprise. However, something is different.
'Bones' looks excited, and is saying "Woah, Bones! You're TALL!"
'Jim' is standing stiffly with one arm behind his back, examining his hand. He has raised one eyebrow and is saying "Fascinating."
'Spock' is hunched over and shivering. He snaps "Why is this ship so goddamn cold!?"
From offscreen, Scotty says, worried, "Err... Captain?"
Above the drawing is written "Trektober" and "Day 16 - Ion Storm" Below it is written "@aerialworms" and "Spocktober"./End ID]
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jealous max who won’t let himself come off jealous but failing my beloved… an essential headcanon in these times lol. also reassuring daniel…
"You are still coming to Monaco, yes?"
It's the third time in just as many days that Max has asked him this. Over phonecalls that he initiated too. It's- Strange. Normally, getting ahold of him while they're in different places is impossible. Daniel once downloaded fucking discord in a desperate attempt to check his boyfriend really was just too busy on the sim and not like, dying in some corner of their apartment.
"Max, of course I am coming," Daniel tells him. For the third time. Then, because hopefully it will remind Max that he can't exactly get out of it- "It's in my contract, remember?"
Instead of the reasuring 'of course,' Daniel is expecting, followed by a mile a minute play-by-play of his charity race on Sunday, there's silence.
Or, at least no words from Max's mouth. Daniel can hear him breathing, the soft drag and drop of air, the rustling of sheets. It's easy then for Daniel to picture him shifting in their bed, and the familiar ache of missing him blooms in his chest.
"Maxy?"
"You can, of course, probably get out of it," Max says after another pause, voice casual in a way Daniel knows him well enough to have nicknamed his 'fuck the media' voice.
Why do you think you have crashed so many times this year, Max?
"Why would I do that?" Daniel asks with a startled laugh. Then, "come on, don't you miss me?"
Their joke that never quite felt it, not when Daniel has had so many things to miss over the last few years. Max, when they're apart. Family. Driving. The version of himself he used to see mirrored in Max's eyes as he watched Daniel climb up onto that top step.
It's even less funny now, when Max asks like he really is uncertain, "I don't know. Do you miss me?"
"Of course I do, baby," Daniel insists, sitting up from where he's been sprawled out on his back, the shitty pillows of the hotel bed too hard. He doesn't know where this is going, but he knows it's nowhere good.
There's more quiet, just the sound of Max wriggling. If Daniel was there, he could roll himself into Max's lap, hold his wrists above his head. Kiss him, tell him he's not letting him go until he turns that frown upside down.
Over the phone, all he can do is wait. Say his name again, until-
"You just- With Scotty, I think you have more fun. Than with me."
Max's voice is small, but his words knock the breath from Daniel's chest.
"Max," is all he can croak out for a moment, unsure of how to fix this.
Clutting the phone harder with one hand, his other comes stupidly to his mouth, knawing. In his mind, he tries to retrace his steps, to work out how they got here, but he knows he and Scotty have been hanging out a lot. And-
And there's some truth to it, Daniel can't lie. It's just not in the way Max thinks. It's not a question of fun, more-
"Sometimes, I just need- I don't know baby, to get away from it all," he rushes to explain around his bleeding nail bed, hating that all has to mean Max too. "The reminders that I'm not driving. That- That I failed."
Scotty is good for talking about everything but. His one good friend that never came with him to every fucking race, wasn't employed because of his career. Didn't see every crack, tear and scream that way Michael, Blake, Max did.
Somebody he can still be Danny Ric with, when he's sick of being Daniel Ricciardo, washed up and left out to dry.
"You did not fail," Max says, petulant, and Daniel doesn't deserve the smile he can't quite bite back, the way Max defends him even against himself. "You- I love you. I do not want to be something you need to run away from. It- It frightens me, feeling not so close."
Daniel is such a cunt.
"We are close," he insists, desperate, because they have to be. This can't be another thing he loses. "We- I'm going to get in the car and drive home right now, and show you how close we are. I'm going lie on top of you, squash you until we become one person, I- Fuck, Maxy, I'm sorry. I love you too, you- You know that, right, that I love you?"
To his relief, Max lets out a noise that's close to laugh, though it sounds wet like he's crying and Daniel wants to wring his own neck.
Instead, he gets up and starts packing.
"Yes?" Max says, checking. "Even if I remind you of all the bad things."
Daniel shakes his head though Max can't see, pausing where he'd been shoving his wallet into his pocket.
"Maxy, you are all champagne showers," he promises, and sometimes he can lie when he's sure that one day soon it will be the truth. "Champagne showers and Monday lie-ins. Just- Fuck it, I'll drive back in my PJ's, just give me a few hours, yeah?"
"You are coming home?" Max asks, hopeful through his tears.
Daniel so badly wants to kiss him.
"Yeah, baby, I'm coming home."
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Daniel is three weeks into the programme when Scotty asks to join him.
“What do you say then? Should we go for a run like we used to?” He says and nudges Daniel’s shoe with a naked toe. “Get some of those muscles back on you, eh?”
Daniel laughs, hooks his foot around his ankle. He pulls him into his lap, rests his weight on his good leg. “Don’t think I can keep up with you anymore, Scotty. You, me, and my bum knee. Don’t think we’re getting very far, yeah?”
Scotty smiles, rubs a thumb over the LED bracelet he slapped on in case the sun sets before he comes home. It’s better than the yellow vest his mother had told him to wear, but it still makes him feel ridiculous. Scotty, he knows, prefers to run on trails, in the deep woods with nothing but trees and birds to keep you company.
But Daniel cannot do that now.
The forest floor is too uneven for him, filled with broken-off branches and stones the size of his fist. He can barely run a mile on a flat surface, doesn’t want to challenge himself with a broken ankle as well. So he runs by the roads now, always in the vicinity of help if he were to fall.
“Hey, Lance and the fam are coming into town in two weeks or so,” Scotty says and pulls out his phone. He flips the screen around to show him a scenic view of one of the trails they used to take before the crash. A viewpoint over the water, secluded enough that Daniel had gone to his knees without problems, sucked him off until they were both fucked out and satisfied on their way down.
“I don’t know your schedule, never know where you are these days, Ric,” he says, laughs. It feels weird in his chest, bitter to taste, but Daniel laughs with him, doesn’t say the answer nowadays is mostly PT. “But it would be cool if you could come, yeah? Been a while since we’ve done something like this.”
Daniel smiles, tightens the hand resting on Scotty’s hip.
Scotty wasn’t around when Daniel crashed, deep in his training programme for the next circuit of games. Blake had offered to call him, to arrange his flights so he could come and see him before his surgery. But Daniel hadn’t wanted Scotty to see him like that, injured and pathetic, overcome with pain at any movement of his leg.
He had been on crutches by the time Scotty came home, moving by himself and mostly off the hard meds. “Come to play nurse, haven’t I?” Scotty said and clumsily carried him to bed. But even then was a shit time for Daniel, no position suitable for both sex and his knee.
Times like these are when he regrets not involving Scotty more in his recovery. The evasive memory of his crash and subsequent injury, the current limitations he was working with.
“Don’t really think I can, babe,” Daniel says and tips him to the side, Scotty landing on the couch with a bump. He leans down to tighten his shoes, stands up for a quick stretch. “Unless you wanna carry me down?”
Scotty hums, stares at his knee, at the scar making its way down his leg. He looks, puzzled, and Daniel doesn’t know how to feel.
“Yeah, no dice, mate,” he says faintly.
Daniel shrugs, tries to breathe out the bitter frustration. He leans down for a kiss, just a brush of their lips before he’s upright again. “Right, I’ll be off. Dinner later? I will order something.”
He’s barely out of the door before his phone is in his hand, music in his ears as he presses start on the next run in his programme.
“Another day, another lovely run with you. I am coach Max, the Red Bull Running global head coach, and I will be with you every step of this two-mile run,” Max says in his ears, the familiar accent easing him into a different mindset as he lets the built-up frustration bleed away.
“You did not want to be here maybe. Perhaps the weather is bad where you run, and you feel tired today also. But you pressed start, so for the next 1.6 kilometres, I will of course help you to become the best runner you can today, and I think that is the most important thing right now.”
Daniel breathes out, shifts the pressure onto his bad knee, and when it feels good, he picks up the pace, loses himself in Max’s voice, “I’m here, Maxy. Tell me what to do.”
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