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“Seriously,” Jim says. “What do you do that makes that cat like you so much?”
Spock scratches Ship's-Cat 3rd Class Tribble behind the ears; Tribble shoves his head up into Spock's hand, purring loudly.
“He is presently contemplating my skills at administering scratches,” Spock says, as if that's an answer.
Jim narrows his eyes. He's not entirely convinced that Spock can even read an animal's thoughts. Given that it's Spock, there's high odds he's yanking Jim's chain right now. “Anyone can pet a cat,” he says. “I can pet a cat with the best of them.”
Spock scrutinizes Jim for an uncomfortably long time. “Jim, are you jealous?”
Spock probably thinks Jim's jealous of him and his cat whisperer skills. But Spock's not the one Jim's jealous of, and he'd never live that one down. “No!” he says, and then winces at his petulant tone.
Tribble jumps off Spock's lap with a warbling noise, giving Spock's leg a parting headbutt and then completely ignoring Jim as he prances out of the room.
***
Jim has to concede that Tribble may be right; Spock is very good at petting. Jim would even purr, if his tongue wasn't down Spock's throat.
He shifts in Spock's lap and Spock hauls him in closer. Their groins touch and Jim moans into his mouth. He's wondering whether to drag Spock over to the bed or just fuck him right in the chair when a full set of claws sinks into his thigh.
He lets out a yelp, nearly biting Spock's lip, and pushes himself away to glare down at Tribble. Tribble cocks his head at Jim and then meows.
“No,” Jim says, clinging to Spock with one hand while pointing at the cat with the other. Tribble looks at his finger. “No, you are not bogarting him. Wait your turn.”
He follows that up by nudging Tribble in the side with his foot. Tribble snorts and stalks away.
When Jim turns back to Spock, Spock is staring at him silently. His lower lip is drawn nearly all the way into his mouth and his eyes are dancing.
“Shut up,” Jim says, and kisses him again.
***
It's a rare, quiet night; Jim and Spock are hanging out in Jim's cabin, on the couch. They've both got books and it's nice and domestic like they're some couple in a retirement home, but fuck it, Jim's having a good time.
Then Tribble slinks into the room.
Jim spots him, sitting nonchalantly in the doorway, washing his face. Slowly, so as not to draw suspicion, Jim shifts on the couch and stretches his legs out across Spock's lap. Spock just raises his book out of the way.
Tribble approaches the couch and sits on the floor. He looks at Jim. He looks at Spock's lap. Then he looks back at Jim.
His butt wiggles.
“What the—” Jim starts, but then Tribble is turning circles on Jim's legs—over Spock's lap—and settling in. He peeks over the top of his fluffy tail at Jim for a moment, and then goes to sleep.
“I am glad you two have worked this out,” Spock says, and his hand drops onto Tribble's head, rubbing at his ears.
Tribble starts to purr, and his claws dig into Jim's legs.
“Me too,” Jim grits out.
THE END