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Jim isn’t quite sure why he starts giving flowers to Spock.
When isn’t a question. Jim can remember the first time like it was yesterday. The planet itself was lovely, as green and as lush as anywhere Jim can remember being. It’s uninhabited, save for a few aquatic species that haven’t yet made their way to land. The away team beams down far from the coast, into a small valley nestled between two hills. They divide off into pairs to collect samples and of course, Jim tags along after Spock. Jim is really only here to stretch his legs and Spock doesn’t need a partner, not for the scientific side of things.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jim comments as they stroll along a small stream, his arm brushing against Spock’s. That’s been happening more and more often, the aloof science officer letting Jim close enough to touch. It sends a thrill through him every time.
Spock looks up from his tricorder and glances around the planet, expression neutral as always. At least, to the casual observer. But Jim can see a lightness in his shoulders, the lines of tension dissipating, and he wonders if it’s got to do with him as much as the beautiful planet that they’re on. He quickly pushes that thought out of his mind and tries to refocus on his First Officer.
“There is a certain aesthetic quality to this landscape that is rather pleasing.” Spock finally replies and Jim wants to laugh, because coming from Spock that’s practically a ringing endorsement.
The two of them continue along the small stream, Spock stopping occasionally to collect samples. The fresh air is doing Jim good and he finds his mind wandering. What would it be like to be here with Spock, not on a planetary survey but on their own? Maybe Spock would be out of uniform, in one of those Vulcan outfits Jim loves. They could walk like this, talking like they have been. Everything nearly the same, except maybe their hands would brush. Accidentally at first, but then intentionally, until finally Spock stops him. He’d curl their fingers together, first in a Vulcan kiss, and then Jim would lean in and-
He’s brought out of his thoughts by Spock’s voice saying his name, clearly having been attempting to get his attention for a while. “Hm? Sorry, Spock, what was that?”
“I was simply saying that the flora in this particular part of the planet is especially vibrant, due to the chemical composition of the soil. I have collected a sample.” Jim can hear the touch of concern in Spock’s voice. “Captain, are you alright?”
“Yeah, yes. I’m fine.” Jim smiles at Spock and takes a look around. They’ve stumbled upon a field of flowers, vibrant colors and varieties. Jim kneels down and runs a careful finger over one of the flowers, then plucks it from the soil. Maybe it’s his fantasies from earlier, maybe it just seems like a good way to distract Spock. But he steps closer to the science officer, holding it out for him.
“Captain? Mr. Sulu is collecting samples of the plant life-”
“It’s not a sample. It’s for you.” Jim cuts him off and holds the flower out, giving Spock a soft smile. “So you can remember the ‘pleasing aesthetic qualities’ of this planet.”
Spock hesitates a moment before taking the flower. Their fingers brush and a slight shock goes through Jim, running up his finger through his arm and making him slightly dizzy. He pulls his hand back quickly and laughs, folding his hands behind him.
“We should finish up so we can get back to the rendezvous point.” He says, walking ahead of Spock. He doesn’t miss the way Spock tucks the flower away, however, careful and gentle, or the light green that tinges his cheeks.
After that, it becomes a habit. Jim joins the away teams for missions as he always does but he always makes sure to take a flower from the local fauna, presenting it to Spock when the two of them break off from the rest of the group. And Spock always tucks it away with delicate fingers. Jim has a feeling that as illogical as it is for Spock to keep the flowers, he doesn’t throw them away. But of course, that could just be wishful thinking. It’s a new part of this...thing between them. Debates over new scientific theories and ideas, flirting and teasing over chess, and flowers. Eventually it becomes routine, something that becomes just as much a part of doing a planetary survey as testing the water or collecting samples of the earth.
That is, of course, until Jim’s immune system fucks everything up.
It’s not even a planetary survey when it happens. It’s a state dinner they’re required to attend, for a planet that’s recently been admitted to the Federation. The Enterprise has ferried a few high ranking diplomats to attend the ceremonies and Jim authorizes shore leave for the entire crew, since he knows it’s been a stressful couple of months. Having ambassadors and admirals and prime ministers take over the ship for the last several days was the last straw and Jim knows they can spare a couple days, before they get underway again.
For the senior officers though, they have one final task to get through before they can begin to unwind. Admiral Komack made it clear he expects them to attend the first night of festivities, a dinner thrown by the regent of the planet. So they beam down to the planet, dress uniforms crisp and boots polished. As far as state dinners go, it isn’t nearly as bad as some of the others Jim’s attended. The building they’re in is beautiful and the food is good, though Jim isn’t quite sure if that’s just because living off replicated food has made anything else taste amazing. Spock stays close to Jim throughout the entire night, something Jim is grateful for. Having his First Officer close by settles something in Jim, makes the boring small talk that much more bearable. But an hour into the night, Jim needs a break. The speeches are just ending and Jim touches Spock’s elbow as the Andorian ambassador finishes giving hers.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He murmurs and Spock nods, following Jim out of the room. Jim visibly relaxes once it’s just the two of them and he nudges Spock’s side gently.
“I can’t wait to be done with this.” He says, the two of them making their way down the hall. “Tomorrow it’s just going to be me, the beach, and maybe a book. What are your plans for leave?”
“Vulcans do not require leave.” Spock answers immediately and Jim rolls his eyes.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it. Come on, Spock.” Jim spots a set of double doors open off to their right and he leads Spock through them, right into a small garden. It’s meticulously cared for, small stone paths leading through it and floating orbs of light hovering around to light the way. “Maybe you can come and join me, for a little while.”
Spock’s quiet for a few moments and Jim takes the opportunity to look around the garden as the Vulcan takes the time (he’s sure) to calculate the chance that he’ll actually have a good time. “That would be...nice.”
Jim stops in the path and grins at Spock, delighted. “Nice, huh? Well, I’m honored.” He reaches down and carefully picks one of the flowers, a light blue one that nearly matches the fabric of Spock’s uniform. He brings it up to sniff lightly before he tucks it into one of the pins Spock is wearing, showcasing his many awards and medals of commendation from Starfleet. “To remember your first real shore leave.”
His hand lingers against Spock’s chest, the two of them standing closer than Jim can ever remember them being. He has to tilt his head just a little to maintain eye contact. Spock really is beautiful, Jim decides. It’s not something new or something he hasn’t noticed before, but standing there under the dim light of the garden makes it all the more apparent. The shadows make his cheekbones appear even sharper, his skin smooth and unblemished. Jim really should step away, but his legs are failing him. Spock seems just as transfixed and Jim swears he feels the ghost of a hand against his side, gliding down his waist to his hip. His First Officer’s expression is intent, his eyes boring into Jim’s as they stare at one another.
Jim wants to kiss him. He’s not sure he’s going to be able to leave here without kissing him.
“Jim, I-” Suddenly, Spock’s expression changes. “Jim? Are you feeling alright?”
Jim frowns because honestly, what kind of question is that? Of course he- but then he registers the itch. Spreading down his hand to his wrist and forearm, along with all over his face. He reaches up and touches his face delicately, eyes widening as he feels the swelling.
“Aw, fuck.” Jim curses. “Spock...” But speaking is getting more difficult, as his tongue begins to swell along with the rest of his face. He tries to take a deep breath and struggles, which only makes him panic a bit more. The ground begins to spin and he tips forward, grabbing Spock’s arms. He vaguely feels Spock shift to support him with one arm (and even in his oxygen deprived state he takes a moment to admire that Vulcan strength) and hears the beep of a communicator.
“Spock to Enterprise. Medical emergency. Two to beam up," is the last thing Jim hears before the world spins one final time and turns to black.
~~~
When Jim wakes up, the first thing he registers is that his body feels sore. He opens his eyes and immediately shuts them again, the bright light making him tear up a bit. He opens them again after a few seconds and looks around. He’s in sickbay. Oh, good. So he didn’t die. Always a good sign. The drugs he’s sure are still in his system are making everything seem a little slower and he sits up, trying to gauge what time it is. A hand shoots out and grips his shoulder, carefully lowering him back onto the bed before he can get too far.
“Hey...” He protests, but finds he doesn’t have the energy to fight. He searches for the owner of the hand and immediately relaxes when he sees Spock, what he knows must be a dopey smile appearing on his face. “Oh. It’s just you.” He laughs slightly at the absurdity of his sentence because really, when has Spock ever been ‘just’ anything?
Spock is standing above Jim, face drawn tight with tension. Little wrinkles have appeared in his brow and Jim reaches up without thinking to smooth them down. “You’re pretty.” He informs Spock, his filter practically gone. He doesn’t really even have the clarity of mind to be embarrassed.
Spock catches his wrist and carefully lowers Jim’s arm back onto the bed, a blush coloring his cheeks. “Doctor.” He calls out. It’s only a second later that Bones appears, grumbling quietly to himself.
“Good. You’re awake.” A hypo is injected into Jim’s neck and he whines, loud enough that Spock places a hand on his shoulder. It’s an attempt to placate him and it works, the dopey smile returning as he looks over at Spock.
Bones rolls his eyes and glances at Jim’s vitals, displayed on the biobed monitor. “His head should clear up in a few minutes. I’m going to keep him for the night to make sure he doesn’t have a secondary reaction.” Then the doctor is gone, off to tend to other patients or go back to his office, Jim doesn’t know. His attention is focused on Spock. Or rather, one part of Spock’s outfit.
“Your flower is gone.” Jim says, sounding more than a little hurt. “What happened?”
“The flower you gave me tonight gave you a severe allergic reaction.” Spock says, sliding his hand down to grip Jim’s arm. “I disposed of it and changed my uniform.”
And yep, Spock isn’t wearing his dress uniform anymore. Pity, it looked so good on him. Jim’s head is starting to clear up so he doesn’t voice that out loud. He relaxes back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His memories are returning and he remembers tucking the flower into Spock’s medal, the slide of Spock’s fingers against his side, the look in Spock’s eye as they stared at each other.
Fuck.
Of course, the one time Jim comes close to sealing the deal his body has to go batshit crazy because of a little pollen. It’s ridiculous. It’s more than ridiculous, it’s the universe out to get him. Jim’s been so good, he’s tried to do this thing with Spock properly, and this is what he gets. It’s not fair.
Jim is brought out of his wallowing by a faint shuffling next to him and the sound of Spock clearing his throat. He looks up at the Vulcan and freezes, surprised. Held between Spock’s fingers is an Earth daisy, the white petals perfectly situated around the bright yellow center.
“You mentioned that you have a preference for these.” Spock says, holding it out to Jim. “When your condition became stable, Lieutenant Sulu allowed me to take one from his personal garden in the botanical lab.” He takes a deep breath, nearly unnoticeable. To anyone else, Spock would look normal but Jim can hear the nerves in his voice, see the uncertainty in his movements. “In the last three months, you have given me twenty five different flowers. This is my way of beginning to repay the gesture.”
Jim takes the daisy and examines it, his heart pounding in his chest. He looks up at Spock after a few seconds and set the daisy to the side, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Come here.” He pulls Spock down to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers curling in the blue fabric of Spock’s shirt. “Do you know what I was thinking about doing, before I started having trouble breathing?”
Spock’s hands are folded in his lap and he stares down at them. Jim watches as he fidgets for a bit before slowly resting a hand on Jim’s knee, blue eyes meeting brown after that. “No. I do not.”
“I was thinking about how you looked, under the lights. And how much I wanted to kiss you.” Jim toys with Spock’s shirtsleeve to distract himself, nerves coiling tight in his stomach. “Would...Would that be okay?”
“Yes.” Spock’s answer is instantaneous and Jim nearly wants to laugh, relief coursing through him. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he leans in. Close enough that he can see the tiny flecks of gold in Spock’s eyes, close enough that their noses brush together. He slips his eyes shut just before their lips touch, bringing his free hand up at the last moment to curl his fingers around Spock’s. He hears Spock’s gasp but doesn’t give him time to finish it, pressing their lips together in a firm kiss.
There aren’t fireworks, exactly. There’s heat, but it’s more slow burning. The hot embers of a smoldering fire, rather than a raging inferno. It deepens quickly and Jim hauls Spock closer, releasing his hand in favor of wrapping an arm around his neck. He feels Spock’s arm wrap around his waist in turn, the two of them pressing closer together.
When they finally break apart, Jim has to take a few moments to catch his break. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, seconds or minutes or hours. Spock seems just as disoriented, the two of them still clinging to each other tightly. Jim rests his forehead against Spock’s and smiles a bit, unable to help himself. Because damn, if that isn’t the best kiss Jim’s ever had.
“Jim?” Spock is the first to speak and Jim opens his eyes, pulling away just a bit so he can see Spock’s face. “Please do not continue giving me flowers. I do not wish to see you endangered like that again.”
Jim laughs and shakes his head, fondness practically radiating off him. “No promises, Spock.” He leans in again before Spock can argue, kissing him again. And, well. After that, there really isn’t much time for talking.