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Chapter Text

I.

The air in San Francisco was different from that on Vulcan. It felt lighter, leaving Spock’s lungs smoothly as he exhaled. It did not threaten to suffocate him; its heat was far from smoldering.

He sat alongside Cadet Uhura in the courtyard, enjoying the weather as well as her company. While Uhura was responsible for a respectively heavy workload, the woman never failed to “stop and smell the roses.” With time, Spock had come to grow fond of her expressions- they reminded him of his youth.

She looked completely and utterly focused, her mind closing in on her assignment. Spock’s gaze never failed to linger when she zeroed in on her work, as he believed her to be yet another enigma he would fail to uncover. Uhura proved to be a wonderful person to study with, her no-nonsense attitude shining through and complimenting Spock’s own work ethic.

That said, Spock was not shy when disclosing his troubles to her. She offered a different perspective to most matters, a perspective Spock would never see on his own. Most of Spock’s decisions were passed through Uhura those days, seeing that the two spent so much of their free time together. Before he could open his mouth, Spock’s hands found each other as they always did when the Vulcan was in need of reassurance. The pressure relaxed him; Spock realized this action was not unlike a human wrapping their arms around their own body. It indicated his distress, something Uhura was keen to pick up on. She looked up from her PADD screen, dark eyes softening and shifting out of her studious vigor.

“Spock? Is something wrong?” Nyota questioned, brushing a floating piece of dandelion fluff off her shoulder. The late springtime left much to be desired.

The Vulcan fidgeted. “Are you aware I programmed the Kobayashi Maru?”

She nodded, leaning over their table towards Spock. He had her full attention, another aspect of her company he valued. “Of course.”

“There has been… an issue with its coding.” Spock said, utilizing the human practice of euphemism.

“What do you mean?”

Spock picked up his PADD, swiping to his test roster. Upon the screen were an abundance of ID numbers, displaying potential and past test takers. The status of their completed test could also be seen, color coded by pass or fail. Every single ID number had been highlighted in red, save for one. It lit up green, disrupting the pattern.

Uhura’s expression changed Spock’s finger hovered over the screen. “Somebody passed? That’s- that’s impossible!”

“And yet…” Spock pursed his lips. “I have been informed the test had been altered.”

“You mean someone changed… the coding? That doesn’t sound realistic.” Nyota crossed her arms.

It didn’t. Spock was the most skilled computer scientist at Starfleet Academy, a trait that set him apart from most professors. His ability to code simulations was beyond impressive, landing him the position to code the Maru in the first place. The point of the test was to challenge prospecting captains and allowing them to face a no-win scenario. Spock believed there was bound to be one in every captain’s career.

However, it appeared not everybody agreed with this notion.

“Do you know who did it?”

This is where the bigger problem emerged. He would be finding out tomorrow, during the academic trial he had arranged with the educative board. While Spock despised cheaters, the idea of not knowing what he was up against frightened him. Not having a plan was atypical for the Vulcan, so he had little grasp on what the trial would even be like. Sure, he had stood jury for multiple, similar trials, but he had never been on the accusatory end. It was out of his comfort zone, therefore causing some panic in Spock.

“Negative,” he said, placing the PADD back onto the table. “I am afraid I will be denied this information until the academic trial. To prevent bias, I suppose.”

Uhura shook her head, her dark ponytail swaying with the movement. This endeared Spock, but he kept such emotional responses concealed. Despite the need for repression, he appreciated his friend’s reaction. Often, Spock found himself confused on how to feel and being able to mirror others helped significantly. He found himself copying her action, shaking his head as well.

“I’ve never liked the way Starfleet handles cases like this. Hardly anybody gets what they deserve these days,” she fiddled with her tablet pen, dexterous fingers twirling it like a baton. “I blame favoritism, of course. They can deny it all they want, but some Admirals play favorites easier than they play Uno.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, considering her thought process. “Do you suspect such acts of favoritism will impact tomorrow’s trial?”

“I can’t be sure, but I can tell you I wouldn’t be surprised if they do.”

Spock blinked, eyes set on the green string of numbers on his screen. They mocked him, creating a tightness in his abdomen he hadn’t felt in a while. The Vulcan felt inadequate; the cadet who’d pulled this stunt definitely had a lot of nerve. Uhura adjusted her position at their table, scooting her body closer to Spock’s in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

She placed a light hand on his forearm, leaving Spock to observe her ruby red fingernails as they grazed his uniform clad appendage up and down. “Come on, Spock. We should do something fun to get your mind off of it. Isn’t the Pre-reform Vulcan art exhibit still in town? At the museum? We’ve been meaning to go…”

“I am afraid I cannot today, Nyota.” He sighed, already regretting turning her down. “I believe the stress from the trial will prevent me from thoroughly enjoying the exhibit. As it is something we have been looking forward to, I cannot accompany you unless you have my full, undivided attention.”

Nyota smiled sweetly at him, making the tightness in his body loosen a small amount. Spock liked the way her eyes creased when she smiled. Such an expression often rendered him speechless and flushed. It was true, Spock’s admiration of Uhura could be explored beyond their established friendship. It could teeter onto the romantic side, tiptoeing off the thin, almost invisible boundary they had earlier implemented. However, as much as Spock liked Uhura, she was not his t’hy’la. Whatever they already shared could be ruined by excessive sentimentality, thus making Spock reluctant to asking her on a real date.

“Well, you need to relax somehow. How about we go back to your place and watch a movie or something? Order some pad Thai? You need to get your nose out of your PADD, that’s for sure.”

Spock minimized the spreadsheet and turned off the display of his tablet. Nyota was right; he needed to think about something else. Becoming preoccupied with the trial would get him nowhere.

“I am… appreciative of your suggestions, Nyota. Though I believe I am in the mood for pizza tonight.”

She grinned at him, standing from their rounded table. “That’s the spirit.”

II.

The morning of the trial, Spock was called into Captain Pike’s office. He arrived promptly, standing outside the other man’s door with his hands behind his back. Pike had been anticipating his arrival, opening the door at exactly 0700. Spock was not one to be tardy, never a mere minute late.

“Commander Spock,” Pike greeted him, doing his best to form a ta’al with his right hand. His fingers contorted awkwardly, index finger twitching and struggling to remain adjacent to his pinkie. “I’m glad you could make it so early.”

“What is the purpose of this meeting, Captain?” Spock asked, tilting his head to punctuate his question.

Pike chuckled, blowing air out of his nose before taking a seat behind his desk. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

Spock said nothing.

“Please, take a seat.”

He obliged, sitting across his commanding officer. Spock had served under Captain Pike before aboard the USS Enterprise. It was a brief stint, but Spock enjoyed his time nonetheless. He served as Pike’s head science officer, but the captain brought it upon himself to recruit Spock as more than a colleague. Pike’s easy-going demeanor made him approachable, and his camaraderie with Spock came more gradually than Spock expected it to. He had proven his loyalty to Captain Pike before, and between them was a trust nobody dared to question.

“The academic trial you have arranged this afternoon…” Pike paused, taking a sip of water. “I’ve spoken to the cadet who recoded the Maru. I recruited him, actually.”

This didn’t surprise Spock. Captain Pike brought in all kinds of recruits, but they all proved to be promising individuals. However, despite this, Spock knew that Pike’s biases would not affect his judgement.

“I see.”

“I think it’s important that you know who you’ll be facing, Spock.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he sighed, leaning on the armrest of his chair. “Number One and I had a discussion. She thought it would be best to avoid any surprises during the actual trial.”

“Please cease circumnavigating, Captain.” The Vulcan was nearing irritation.

The captain looked straight ahead. “Cadet James T. Kirk is responsible for recoding the Kobayashi Maru.”

Spock’s blood ran cold. The unpleasant tightness in his chest returned, accompanied by a peculiar lightheadedness. He hadn’t heard that name upon anybody’s lips in years, much less in this context. Spock was not aware Kirk had even been attending Starfleet Academy. All of a sudden, the Vulcan’s hands were shaking. He couldn’t do this, not today. He couldn’t bear to face Jim. Not like that.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Pike mumbled. “We can have somebody else attend in your place, Spock-“

“No,” Spock’s voice trembled. His emotions were preventing him from seeing the greater picture, he realized. Jim was no longer the fifteen year old boy he once knew. He was now under scrutiny for academic dishonesty, and Spock couldn’t allow his old sentiments getting in the way of the rules. “I am fully capable of attending.”

His shaking hands, however, told another story. Spock clasped them immediately, rubbing his palms together as he sought comfort. The usual pleasantness that came from the act was not enough, he realized. Without realizing it, Spock had begun to sway his body, back and forth until his head was somewhat clear. Pike never stopped him, having seen the display before back on the Enterprise.

After he left Psi Sector IX, Spock’s contact with Jim was minimal. Jim remained at the school, prohibiting him from reaching out to Spock. The school was fairly strict regarding student relations, only allowing immediate family and other guardians to contact enrolled pupils. That said, Spock had not spoken to Jim in years, not since their tearful good-bye at the shuttle dock.

What had become of James Kirk? There was not a day Spock failed to wonder, his mind spiraling and jumping to illogical conclusions. His first love had been torn from him and he had done nothing to stop it; he regretted this every living, breathing moment. Spock had the urge to comply with Pike’s request and skip the trail, hiding from Kirk and avoiding all potential conflict. His rational mind advised this, telling him it would be logical to prevent what could only bring him pain.

But, Spock was half human. While his logical thought process did not go unacknowledged, his heart thumped loudly in his side as he pictured being reunited with Jim. Oh, the very idea of seeing him again made Spock weak in his knees. He yearned to see those baby blues again, even just for a moment… After all, Spock had made a promise. He swore he would see Jim again, whether it be in all his glory or under strained circumstances.

“Are you sure?” Pike’s tone was soft, a tone Spock had come to know very well.

For a moment, they looked at one another. Pike understood.

“Yes,” Spock nodded. “I am.”

Chapter Text

III.

The shuttle ride had been the worst of it. Being alone was difficult now. Spock gazed emptily at the window, where Jim’s loving eyes had once seen him off. The ache in his head was only heightened at the thought of what Jim could be doing at that very moment, back in his room. With his head perched in his knees, Spock fell asleep, exhausted by the light of the shuttle as well as the pain all over his body.

He was roused by the noise of the shuttle as it landed, making him groggily tug at his face and rub the sleep out of his dark eyes. The pain hadn’t subdued, but Spock supposed it never would. As far as he was concerned, this was the end of all ends. Amanda had always said Spock had a flair for the dramatic, but being apart from his t’hy’la was proving to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. He’d expected dullness, but the world was no longer exciting.

While Spock had only lived on Psi Sector IX for a number of months, he believed his time there allowed him to have a significant emotional change. For one, he felt more open, more inclined to share his feelings than before.

This, he realized, was not the result Sarek was expecting. Sarek intended to receive his son in a better mental headspace, one suited for an emotionally disciplined Vulcan. It would be illogical to return a complete wreck, but there was not much Spock could do about this besides mask once again. Whatever emotions he felt regarding his time with Jim needed to be tucked away.

The difference in his demeanor was noticeable, at least to his mother. Amanda gave him a hug upon their reunion, one the Vulcan returned. She stiffened, unused to her son reciprocating her illogical human outbursts. It was something Jim had taught him- “you never turn down a hug from your mom, especially when you haven’t seen her in a while.” Jim was well versed with Winona Kirk coming in and out of his life as she pleased. The thought of Jim growing up without his mother made Spock appreciate Amanda more. Perhaps one day, he would introduce her to Jim and she could care for him the way she cared for all three of Sarek’s children.

His mother’s face was flushed from her excitement. She seemed smaller to Spock, her hands coming up to caress his face. He didn’t flinch, opting to place his hand over hers much like he did with Jim only hours prior. The parallel between the two made Spock’s eyes wander, downcast onto the floor as Amanda babbled about the upkeep of her garden and how it was harder to maintain without Spock’s aid. Spock was distracted the entire ride back to their home, Vulcan’s austere architecture keeping him somewhat grounded. He made it a game to count the number of orange vehicles he saw.

“Spock?” Amanda’s voice broke Spock out of his daze.

“Yes?”

“Are you feeling okay?” She sounded concerned, as any mother of a Vulcan son should be when he has resorted to illogical car counting games as a form of entertainment.

Spock gulped around a knot in his throat. Either he had not been masking very well, or his mother had spectacular instincts. Instead of telling the truth, Spock grit his teeth as a white lie slid past them.

“I do not understand your query,” he remarked, feigning as the always rational Vulcan he ought to be.

Amanda knew better. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Did something happen at that school?”

Spock looked at his lap and began to twiddle his thumbs distractedly. “Negative.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded, but he knew this answer didn’t satisfy her curiosity. She was worried about him, fearing that Psi Sector IX had impacted her son in a negative way. Spock could feel it, becoming attuned to her distressed energy as it clouded the telepathic link between mother and child like a thick syrup.

From then on, Spock adopted reclusive tendencies. When he wasn’t at school, he was cooped up in his bedroom. He lost interest in playing the Vulcan lyre and stopped helping Amanda in her garden. Spock even refused Sarek, turning down his offers to meditate side by side. His parents attempted to break through this new titanium shell Spock resided in but they had no luck.

The Vulcan began writing letters. While Spock knew these letters would never be sent or even read, they allowed him to channel every feeling he experienced in a mild manner. He mostly wrote to Jim, asking him questions he would never receive answers to. Sometimes, whenever he felt more vulnerable, Spock would pen a note to Michael and express desperation and the need for her guidance. He kept these letters in a locked box underneath his bed, deciding that keeping them downloaded onto his PADD was too risky. Instead, the pieces of paper collected dust and accumulated until Spock needed a larger box. He’d considered throwing them away, but never went through with it. Maybe one day he would deliver them. This was all wishful thinking.

One day, a months after the letter writing had begun, Spock came home from school early, silently locking the door behind him as he entered. He did not call out for his mother as he usually did, his extraordinary hearing picking up on a conversation in Sarek’s study. Spock approached the source of the noise, his feet light upon the carpeted surface of the floor. Once he successfully hid behind a tall plant, he crouched by the door to get a better register.

“Spock is depressed, Sarek. And we’ve done nothing about it!” It was Amanda. She sounded upset, more than usual when discussing him with her husband.

“Vulcans cannot get depressed.”

“He’s half human.”

“He has been raised the Vulcan way.”

“Oh, I am so tired of this! Look at what I found underneath his bed.”

Spock tensed. He had forgotten to lock his box of letters last night, but he wasn’t aware his mother would stoop so low. He heard a thump against glass and he could only assume it was his box hitting Sarek’s pristine desk.

“He’s writing to a boy named Jim. I don’t know anyone named Jim. He’s writing,” Amanda paused, her voice trembling when she resumed, “to Michael. To his sister. He needs help. He feels-“

“Spock should not feel.”

“But he does!” She was getting hysterical. “Read this. Read them. Our son is suffering, he’s been suffering this entire god damned time! This would never have happened if you’d never sent him to that fucking boarding school, either!”

Spock disagreed. This would never have happened if he’d never left so early. His mother’s usage of strong language alarmed him; he’d never heard her so broken.

Sarek was silent. A rustling of paper was all he could pick up on, and Spock’s face flooded with blood. The letters he’d written for Jim were nothing he would ever think of saying aloud; many of them were romantic and borderline sappy. This was not how he imagined his parents finding out of his t’hy’la.

“I don’t care if you agree with me or not,” his mother said, “I’m taking him to a doctor. Off-planet. He needs help and I’m going to give it to him. One of us has to. God fucking damn it.”

Her footsteps were getting closer towards the door, so Spock bolted. He got up as quickly as possible and ran towards the garden, seeking solace in the nearest location. The transparent door slammed behind him as he entered, out of breath and psychologically exhausted. Spock felt sick; his stomach did flips as he leaned against the railing of his mother’s balcony. Sarek had his box. Sarek was reading his letters to Jim and Michael. Sarek would know everything.

He started shaking, the sun above him suddenly too bright. It hurt him, its beams making his eyes lack focus. The noise of the city below overwhelmed him and Spock regretted ever coming outside. He slid to the bottom of the railing with a pained groan, curling inward on himself and clutching his knees to his chest. It heaved as he lay there, unmoving save for the shudders racking his body involuntarily. Spock felt the skin on his face tingle and burn. The noise was everywhere, surrounding him and engulfing him.

“Spock!”

He could vaguely make out his mother crouched next to him, but he could not stand her touch. Her distress added to the unwanted noises; Spock covered his pointed ears with his palms and screwed his eyes shut. Her hands were upon him, grabbing his shoulders and rustling him.

“Spock!” Amanda repeated his name before bolting upright and running out the door. “Sarek, call someone!”

T’Pau made her presence known only after what felt like an eternity. She picked Spock up with ease, making him recoil. His eyes reopened as her hands graced his psi points. Suddenly the scorching white hot pain was subdued, her energy flowing through his body like a wave. It calmed him down significantly, cooling him from his toes to the last strand of hair atop his head. Spock stared up at the ceiling of the darkened room, thankful for T’Pau. From his peripheral vision, Spock could see his mother. Amanda’s hand was over her mouth, her face contorted with worry. She held onto Sarek with a vicelike grip, fingernails digging into the material of his dress robes. Sarek’s eyebrows were furrowed with what Spock hoped was concern and not flat disappointment.

There was whispering. There was always whispering, Spock thought. He turned onto his side and away from the adults, leaving them to discuss him like he wasn’t in the room. The throbbing ache of his head was dull, but the Vulcan could still feel it against his skull as it lulled him to sleep. That night he dreamt of Jim Kirk, smiling from cheek to cheek.

Chapter Text

IV.

The trial was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago. Spock sat in a row, other Academy professors behind and ahead of him. Despite his position in the court, he couldn’t help but feel lingering gazes on his person. The entire school knew Professor Spock had coded the Maru; they also knew Professor Spock hated dishonesty, being a Vulcan and all. It was strange, upholding Vulcan principles he himself did not always follow. However, nobody knew that. In their eyes, Spock was as Vulcan as his father. This was one thing about life among humans he didn’t mind. The insecurity that came alongside his heritage was not known as it was on Vulcan. Here, people were too distracted by his pointed ears and green flush to pay any attention to his overtly human eyes.

Those same eyes scanned the room, anxious to find Jim. Relentless chatter prevented him from focusing, but he persisted as he inspected the back of every blonde male’s head.

Uhura stopped before him, her cadet reds blocking his view of the rest of the courtroom. Spock looked up at her, his gaze following her movements as she took a seat beside him. Spock appreciated this, he knew he would otherwise begin to panic if not for her support.

“So, Jim Kirk, huh?”

“You know him?” Spock’s eyebrows traveled upward, high on his forehead in surprise.

Nyota laughed, the sound coming out in an exasperated huff. “Who doesn’t? Kirk… he’s a real piece of work, I’ll tell you that. I’m not surprised he pulled this, actually.”

“Why do you say this?”

“He’s got a bit of a reputation,” she said. “Jim’s not a bad guy or anything, but he’s not the kind of person who follows rules.”

Spock knew that much. “How come I have never heard of him until now?”

Saying he’s never heard of Jim was a stretch, but it applied in context. Uhura shrugged, crossing her arms and leaning back. “You keep a low profile, Spock. Kirk doesn’t. It makes sense that you’ve never crossed paths.”

If only she knew.

The sound of the gavel drew the two out of conversation. Spock’s attention transferred to the head of the courtroom, where Admirals sat elbow to elbow.

Admiral Barnett begins the trial. “This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter. James T. Kirk, step forward.”

A young man stood up. Spock’s hands clenched, gripping each other so tightly he feared for their circulation. He felt lightheaded as the blonde made his way to the stand, looking over his shoulder towards another grumpy looking man.

“Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council, suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to regulation one seven point three of the Starfleet Code.” Barnett was stern, fixed upon Kirk as he spoke. “Is there anything you would like to say before we begin, sir?”

“Yes,” Spock suppressed a shudder as Kirk spoke. He hadn’t heard his voice in approximately ten years, how was he supposed to face Jim? “I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly.”

This was Spock’s cue. He summoned all his energy, putting on his stoic, unaffected expression. Spock stands from his seat, adjusting his uniform. Uhura gives him a look of encouragement.

“Step forward, please. This is Commander Spock. He’s one of our most distinguished graduates. He’s programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years. Commander?”

For what it was worth, Spock didn’t stumble nor fall down the staircase. He kept his gaze locked upon the stand, reaching it and placing his folded hands on its surface. He couldn’t bear to see Kirk’s reaction to him in fear he would misread it entirely. Spock’s heart beat faster against his side, its irregular pace uncontrolled by his Vulcan physiology.

“Cadet Kirk,” he was monotone despite his internal turmoil. “You somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine to the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test…”

“And what about it?” Kirk’s reply came, his voice revealing nothing.

“You cheated.”

“An unpassable test is a cheat in itself.”

“Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario.”

Spock finally looked up. Kirk was already staring.

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” he smirked. “You should know that.”

“You misunderstand the lesson, Cadet.”

“You misunderstand the purpose, Commander.”

Spock purses his lips. “Explain.”

“Being a captain is about being resourceful, isn’t it? It’s not like I changed the test forever. The change in the code was temporary; it deconstructs itself after a single use.” Kirk is leaning against the stand. “I didn’t cheat. I worked with what I was given.”

Numerous cadets began murmuring. Spock heard people calling Kirk a variety of things, spanning from “intolerable brat” to “underrated genius.”

Spock cleared his throat. “The purpose is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one’s crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” said Jim, the playful smirk permanent on his youthful face. Spock took a long look at him, comparing the young man before him to the teenager he’d met on Psi Sector IX. He looked more mature, but his impish smile remained the same. Spock couldn’t help it; his hard gaze fell. Jim’s expression changed, too, but Spock failed to place it.

The gavel banged again, making Kirk flinch only slightly. The court was dismissed and the jury left to evaluate the case. Cadets were up and off, exiting the courtroom. It was a flurry of red and Kirk was out of reach.

V.

The court ruled in Kirk’s favor. Spock knew he should’ve been disappointed by the decision, but he couldn’t say he was. Had Spock won, Kirk would’ve been expelled from Starfleet Academy and lost all over again.

However, Spock was still distraught. Jim hadn’t sought him out after the trial. Spock wasn’t sure if Jim even wanted to see him, but the thought of uniting under better circumstances was appealing to the Vulcan. He couldn’t tell what Kirk was thinking; Spock always had a hard time putting himself in other people’s shoes. What he could do was mourn the loss of his soulmate (if he could still call him that, after all this time) once more.

He was moping. Visibly. It was subtle, something nobody would catch at first glance, but Uhura knew him. She saw the way he sucked in his lower lip and kept his eyes downcast. It was logical, he thought, for Nyota to become so skilled at picking up gestures. Body language is one of the hardest languages to master, even for a communications expert.

“Everything okay?” She put a hand on his shoulder, granting him comfort through physical touch yet respecting his boundaries.

“I am… distressed over the trial.”

Nyota sighed. “Yeah, me too. Honestly, if it were up to me, Kirk would’ve gotten expelled a while ago,” she chuckled.

“I believe I require “a night in,” as you call it.” Spock twisted the zipper on his messenger bag between his fingers, tracing its small Starfleet insignia with the pad of his thumb.

She smirked. “Oh, hell yes. I’ve got a copy of Sleepless in Seattle and a bucket of popcorn with our names written on them. We’ll talk crap about Kirk later.”

While he was aware of Uhura’s opinion on Jim, he failed to understand her humor. Had Jim done something that’d negatively impacted the public’s view of him? Kirk was never fond of rules, but he wasn’t a heathen. Despite his words at the stand, Spock deeply considered Kirk’s reason to cheat. Nowhere in the test instructions did it say he couldn’t do what he did. It frustrated him, but most things related to Jim Kirk did.

Uhura’s choice in movies reminded Spock of his mother’s. She was fond of the romantic comedy genre, two separate things Spock struggled to wrap his mind around. He still enjoyed them, though, firmly believing The Lake House invented true love.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Uhura asks him abruptly, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Spock raises his eyebrow and copies her. He regrets it as soon as his hand is covered in butter.

“What are you referring to?”

“Falling in love like that,” she says dreamily. “Like Sam and Annie.”

Spock considers it. “Perhaps.”

“Why only perhaps?” Uhura sounds disappointed.

“Emotions are difficult, Nyota,” he explains. “They are tumultuous. What is present one moment may be gone the next.”

She props her face up against her hand, mesmerized by Sleepless in Seattle. Spock cannot tell whether she is gazing lovingly at Tom Hanks or Meg Ryan. “Not if you meet the right person.”

“There are over seven billion individuals on this planet alone,” he says. “Statistically, there are hundreds upon thousands of people equally suited for you.”

“Yeah, but…” Uhura stops, suddenly sitting upright. “Do you believe in soulmates, Spock?”

The Vulcan becomes tense, but he trusts Uhura. “On Vulcan, there is a rare bond called the t’hy’la bond... There is no direct translation to standard, but it can be considered the equivalent of having a soulmate.”

Her brown eyes go wide with astonishment. “Wow. Does every Vulcan have a soulmate?”

Spock shakes his head. “The bond is considerably rare.”

“How do you know if you have one?”

“Illogical as it may sound… one can feel it. Your katra will be drawn to your bond mate’s, making the distinction for you.”

“That’s so romantic,” she moons. “For a race full of supposedly unemotional, stoic people, Vulcans sure do take love seriously.”

“I concur.”

A rumble of thunder accompanied with a loud, frantic knock pulls the two out of their conversation. Uhura gets to her feet.

“I’ll get it. It’s probably the take-out guy.”

Spock nods, amazed at their delivery man’s willingness to bring their dinner in harsh weather. It had been raining all afternoon, causing the sky to darken earlier than usual.

The Vulcan’s eyes threaten to glisten as he watches Sam reach out for Annie. The camera focuses on the touch of their hands, zeroing in on that first bit of contact between two people meant to be. It reminds him of…

“Jim Kirk?!”

He hears Jim’s voice from the doorway. “Can I come inside?”

“You’re soaking wet! Get in, let me get you a towel…” Nyota says, rushing to step aside and let Kirk in. She doesn’t ask why he’s here, primarily concerned with making sure Jim doesn’t get hypothermia.

Kirk shivers, water dripping from the ends of his golden hair as well as the tip of his nose. His jacket is wet against his body, and Spock stands to help him remove the article.

“James?” He tilts his head, unsure why the man would come all this way. Spock’s apartment is within walking distance from campus, but the trek would seem grueling in such conditions.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks, pointing in the direction Nyota rushed towards.

Spock shook his head, eyes glued to the human before him. “Negative. We were simply… hanging out.”

The clarification relaxes Jim, releasing a tension in his shoulders visibly. Spock cannot tell why, but he feels a slight flush grow at the very tips of his ears. If Jim had been envious of Nyota, had he assumed the two were spending a romantic evening together? The mere thought sent Spock reeling. Jim’s overprotective streak hadn’t faded.

“I’m sorry, Spock,” he breathes out. “I’m sorry for cheating on your test.”

“The educative board ruled in your favor,” Spock furrows his eyebrows. “Shame regarding the exam at this point in time is illogical.”

“I know, I just… at first, I thought I was doing the right thing. Standing up for myself or whatever. Now I just feel like an asshole.” Jim frowns. “I didn’t know that you… if I’d known you coded the Maru, I would’ve never done that!”

Spock is amused at this confession. “Why would this knowledge change your route of action?”

Kirk sighed, his face flushing. “Because… you’re you. I don’t… I didn’t want our first interaction after ten fucking years to be like that. I would’ve done better. Found a more honest way to pass your test. I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, James,” Spock’s voice is only a little louder than a whisper. He’s tempted to touch him, to caress Kirk’s cheek and soothe him. “I do not think less of you. I believe the board made the right choice entirely based upon your incredibly persuasive argument.”

“Really?”

Before Spock could answer, Uhura came back in. She carried a towel and a set of dry clothing in her arms. “I took a few of your clothes, Spock. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I do not.”

“Good. I don’t want Kirk to get sick. McCoy wouldn’t let us hear the end of it.” She turned to Kirk, shoving the pile into his chest. “Go change.”

“I’m assuming that wasn’t a request,” Jim grins at her lopsidedly.

Nyota only rolls her eyes and mumbles something about Kirk being a pain in her ass. However, she’s smiling, indicating that her words hold no genuine malice. These conflicting displays confuse Spock.

While Jim heads to the bathroom, Uhura turns to Spock. “What’s he doing here?”

“He came to apologize.”

Her eyebrows shot upward. “He what?”

“James feels shame for having manipulated the Kobayashi Maru.”

“He could’ve written you an e-mail to say that,” she crosses her arms. “What’s really going on? Why are you on a first name basis with Jim Kirk?”

Sometimes, Spock wished Uhura didn’t have the instincts she did.

“It is a long story. He and I have what you would call… a history.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “I’m going to leave, and you’re going to fix whatever the hell is going on between you and Kirk. I expect you to tell me everything tomorrow, and yes, it is my business as your best fucking friend.”

She gathered her things, giving the Vulcan one last glance over her shoulder before pulling her hoodie up. “Don’t mess this up.”

“I will do my best.”

As one door closed, another opened. Jim stepped out of his bathroom wearing Spock’s clothing. The sight filled him with a strange sensation he could only label pride. His t’hy’la before him, shoulder exposed as Spock’s large t-shirt draped over his freckled shoulder, threatening to fall off its edge. Spock knew he was broader than Kirk, but he never expected the other man to look so small in his clothing. He looked almost docile if not for his intense gaze.

“Where’d Uhura go?”

“She just left.”

Kirk bit his lip, stressing it between his teeth. “I guess we should talk then, right?”

“A logical conclusion,” he said, taking a seat upon his couch. The popcorn was set upon it. “Would you like some?”

The human grabbed a fist full. “Thanks.”

“Did you have an idea regarding the beginning of our discussion?” Spock was horrible at initiating conversations, especially loaded ones.

Kirk chuckled, popcorn spilling out of his mouth. It should’ve grossed Spock out. Should’ve. “God, Spock, I dunno. I haven’t seen you in like, a decade. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Such as?”

“Well,” he starts. “How’ve you been?”

Spock crosses his legs, tucking his feet underneath his thighs. The popcorn bucket rests in his lap. “Adequate. I have been enrolled in Starfleet for the majority of our time apart, if you must know.”

Kirk frowns. “What about the Vulcan Science Academy? Didn’t you say you wanted to go there?”

“I declined their offer,” he says, silently reflecting. The VSA had insulted his mother; Spock considered this the worst possible offense. “Sarek was not pleased.”

“When was he ever?” Kirk reached for more popcorn.

The sides of Spock’s lips twitched. He missed this. He missed Jim. “A fair point.”

“I entered Starfleet a year after we parted ways.” The Vulcan continued. “With my early acceptance, I took the accelerated track and graduated within three years of schooling.”

Jim’s eyes lit up with joy. “Impressive. I expected nothing less, of course.”

“I am currently teaching a xenolinguistics course as well as running the academy’s chess club. Before this, I was aboard the Enterprise with Captain Pike.”

“Wow! The Enterprise,” Jim grinned wider, his dimples present and oh-so charming. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“While I do not comprehend the usage of personal pronouns, I must agree. The Enterprise is a beautiful ship.” Spock eats a piece of popcorn tentatively, attempting to conceal how shy Jim makes him feel all of a sudden. “What about you? What have you been doing?”

Jim looks down at his fingers, intertwined and resting upon his lap. “…I escaped Psi Sector IX, so I wasn’t exactly welcomed warmly when I got back home.”

“When did you do this?”

“Like, two weeks after you left.” Kirk shrugged. Spock’s shirt slid down his shoulder. “I was having a really hard time by myself. I hijacked one of their emergency pods and bolted.”

“After that, I went back to school in Iowa. I did well, but it felt like my brain was oozing out of my ears because it was so boring. I graduated a year early and then decided to do literally nothing. I was an overly aggressive hermit, basically. Bar fights were kind of my thing. Just ask Uhura.”

Spock made a note of this.

“One thing led to another, and I met Pike. He told me my genius would be put to better use here, so… ta-da.”

“Uhura informed me you are on a command track. Accelerated, as well. You have always loved a challenge.”

Kirk looked at him again. “Yeah, well… you don’t become the ‘Fleet’s youngest captain without that, do you?”

“I suppose not.”

They locked eyes during the break of silence. Normally, Spock would avoid the contact, deeming it too intimate. It would typically induce a sense of panic in him, but with Jim it felt comfortable. He felt soothed by those baby blues, like they were reaching out to him and holding his attention.

“Look, Spock…” Kirk sounded determined. “I know the last time we saw each other was… interesting, to say the least.”

“You kissed me.”

“I did,” the human smiled. “And I just wanted to tell you that… I don’t want to lose you again. I want to catch up. I want to be in your life. Ever since I saw you this morning, it’s all I could think about.”

“James…”

“I don’t care if you don’t love me anymore,” he says quickly. “I just want to know we did everything we could.”

Spock’s heart almost stopped. He knew his face was a deep green, but he couldn’t hold back. His emotional control was shaking, coming to a slow crumble as Kirk continued to look at him as though he were the most precious thing in the universe. It overwhelmed him, making him clasp his hands together tightly. He looked away from Jim, suddenly very interested in the popcorn bucket in his lap. Spock pursed his lips together, replaying Kirk’s words over in his mind.

“Spock?”

“I…” He tried, stopping again to breathe. “I… I cannot…”

“Hey,” Jim spoke quieter, realizing Spock was overwhelmed. “Hey, Spock… breathe, okay? Copy my breathing, just like we used to do.”

Kirk inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth. Spock nodded, mirroring Jim’s motions. After a while, he was still lightheaded, but calm enough to speak.

The Vulcan’s words were chopped, short and strained. “I cannot provide what you need. Affection… romance… grand gestures. I know how human relationships work, James.”

“You clearly don’t know how Jim Kirk relationships work, though. I don’t need grand gestures. I like you for you, not for your extravagant displays of affection.”

Spock blinks back tears, his head a hurricane of thoughts and feelings. He’d grown so used to being in control of his emotions; this brief lapse felt like failing. “Is it… not too soon?”

“Spock,” Jim smiled gently. “I’ve been thinking about you non-stop for ten years. But, if I need to, I’ll win you over. If you want me to romance you… a formal courtship, if you will… I can do that.”

With those words, every romantic comedy Spock had ever seen flashed before his eyes. Except, every dashing male lead had been replaced with James Kirk. The idea was definitely appealing, especially considering Spock’s tastes. Just because he was insecure in his romantic methods didn’t mean he didn’t value them. Truth be told, Spock loved the concept of love. The thought of falling for Jim all over again excited him.

After consideration, he held his hand out. It was difficult to do, but Spock had already known that taking a risk was necessary for one’s t’hy’la.

Jim took it gently in his own, rubbing his thumb over Spock’s pronounced knuckles. The blonde raised it to his lips, pressing a cautious, chaste kiss to it.

VI.

Jim left later that night. He stuck around long enough for his own clothing to dry, but Spock insisted he kept what he’d borrowed. It suited him, and Spock enjoyed seeing Kirk in his shirt. It complimented his eyes. Seeing Kirk off was easier this time, as the Vulcan knew he would see him again very soon.

The next morning, he woke up more relaxed than usual. His movements were languid, almost carefree as he pinned his Starfleet badge to his uniform jacket. Spock’s walk to campus was more enjoyable, and there was a definite spring to his step. Nobody noticed it, of course, but Spock felt it. That was the important part, he thought. Allowing himself to feel giddy was a new experience, and he hoped it had no effect on his authority with his students. If they knew he was in a good mood, or any mood at all for that matter, they would most certainly take advantage of it. Therefore, he wore his expressionless mask, keeping his positive thoughts under lock and key.

As he approached his office, he noticed a cadet seated in front of the door. His head was tipped back, lying against the wood, and in his hands was a brown paper bag. Spock got closer, and made out the figure as none other than Jim Kirk.

Spock nudged him with the tip of his foot. It looked like Jim had fallen asleep waiting for something.

“James?” Spock raised his voice. “James!”

Jim woke up, his body shuddering at the sudden noise. He shook his head a little, clearly disoriented until he looked up. “Oh! Spock, I was waiting for you!”

“For how long?” Spock asked, afraid he’d kept Jim waiting awfully long.

The human looked at his watch, stumbling as he got to his feet. “Uh… maybe forty minutes? I dunno. I didn’t know when your office hours started, but, I… I got you breakfast!”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is it in the bag?”

“Yeah… I think I might’ve squished it a bit, though. Don’t worry, it’s still edible.”

Kirk fished inside the bag, bringing out a smaller, plastic Ziploc bag. It was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“I don’t know if you still like these, but…” Jim rubbed the back of his neck. “It seemed right.”

Spock did still like them. In fact, he had grown very fond of them. When he got back from Psi Sector IX, he found himself craving them to the point of requesting his mother to buy peanut butter and jelly whenever she went off planet. The meal, while lacking nutritional value, brought Spock considerable comfort. Sure, the peanut butter wasn’t the best, but he preferred it over plomeek soup most nights.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the small bag from the human. The sandwich was a bit battered, but this wouldn’t affect its taste. “Would you like to share it?”

Jim smiled, making Spock feel almost dizzy. Jim had a confusing impact on him, but it was never unpleasant or awkward. If anything, it brought him peace to be around Jim and to think about him.

“Of course I do. Just like old times.”

Spock unlocked the door to his office and invited Jim in. He made the blonde a cup of hibiscus tea, and they split their sandwich in triangular halves. Spock sat behind his desk while Jim sat across him. Most days, Spock would opt for a cup of tea alone for breakfast, but this was a pleasant change. Spock loved a routine, but some changes, he realized, were good. Much like having unexpected company so early in his work day.

“I didn’t want to be weird or anything,” Jim says, breaking their comfortable silence. He breaks mid-sentence to lick jelly off of his lips. “But I wanted to ask for your schedule. I know how you get about that sort of thing, so I wanted to know the days you’re free.”

Spock blinked, taken aback by Jim’s level of preparedness. He wasn’t messing around; he truly wanted to win Spock’s affections. He already had them, but at this point Kirk was determined. Nothing could stop him now, nothing besides Spock explicitly telling him to stop his pursuit. Spock, of course, was not inclined to do so.

He put his sandwich down, reaching for his PADD. Pulling up his schedule, he handed the tablet to Kirk. “I am… mostly free on weekends as well as Thursdays. However, on Thursday evenings, I run chess club meetings.”

“You any good?” Kirk asked, his expression smug.

“Maintaining the club requires a certain level of skill.”

“Remember when we would play games back at school? You sucked at cards.”

Spock sighed. “I recall this. You told me I did not have a very good poker face.”

“You absolutely don’t.”

“I must agree.” He smiled at Jim, only slightly. It seemed appropriate to do so, seeing that only Jim elicited such impulses.

Kirk’s watch started beeping. “Aw, crap. I have to get to class, but I, uh… I’ll see you, okay? I have plans for us tomorrow night.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you the details, alright?”

Jim was out the door, leaving Spock curious. What, the Vulcan wondered, could Kirk have prepared for them? The man was full of surprises, he always had been.

Chapter Text

VII.

After T’Pau’s visit, Spock pulled back even further. His parents broke his trust by reading those letters; he’d never expected them to ever be found much less read by his father. While he understood the purpose, it didn’t help to know they’d peered into the depths of his mind without a meld. It was a definite invasion of his privacy and it put him on edge whenever he sat down for dinner.

Spock picked at his meal, using his fork to drag out the lettuce adorning his entrée. Amanda and Sarek’s voices were faint, as though they were in another room instead of right in front of him.

“Spock?”

Sarek was looking right at him.

“Yes?”

“Your mother was speaking to you.”

He straightened his back, looking towards Amanda. She looked concerned, probably due to her son’s unwillingness to not only share with his parents but to eat dinner.

“You’ve hardly made a dent in your plate,” she said. Spock sighed, not impressed by her observation. “The doctor said you need to eat more, Spock. You won’t feel better if you don’t.”

The doctor his mother referred to was the off-planet doctor she had spoken of during her fight with Sarek. She was stationed on a nearby starbase, seeing interdimensional patients as well as working alongside specialists for specific races and individuals. Spock, while impressed with the set-up, was less than pleased to be seeing the doctor. The Vulcan’s next appointment was approaching, and his mother was determined for him to make progress before their next meeting. This included asking him how he felt consistently and feeding him more vegetables than he could handle. Spock was Vulcan, but he yearned for sweets as much as any other boy his age.

“Yes, mother.” Spock impaled the vegetables before him with his utensil, shoveling the food into his mouth with a dissatisfied sound. Sarek raised an eyebrow at him, but Spock couldn’t make himself care.

Sarek cleared his throat. “I have spoken to the Vulcan Science Academy regarding your admission. I was informed you rejected their offer.”

He wished he could disappear. At seventeen Vulcan years, Spock’s father blamed his teenage, human hormones for making him act illogically but he begged to differ. If anything, the immense pressure from Sarek paired with his internal struggles made it difficult to maintain stoicism. “May I be excused?”

“No. What is the reasoning behind your rejection?”

Amanda’s eyes were stuck to her plate; she already knew what happened. Spock, although still considerably displeased with her prior, invasive actions, confided in her more than anybody.

Spock had been called by the VSA, presumably to accept their offer and follow up with the appropriate enrollment process. Nobody had ever turned down the VSA; it was unthinkable. Not until Spock. This, he noticed, is where he embraced his title as the exception.

Upon meeting the Vulcan Council, they spoke highly of him.

“You have surpassed the expectations of your instructors. Your final record is flawless; with one exception. You have applied to Starfleet as well.”

Spock had shifted on his feet. “It was logical to cultivate multiple options.”

The Minister gave him a stern, questioning look. “Logical, but unnecessary. You are hereby accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy. It is remarkable that you have achieved so much despite your obvious disadvantage.” The Council awaited the Minister’s command. “All rise.”

While externally collected, Spock was full of sudden, unbridled shame. Not shame for his mother, but shame in his mere presence before a board of men that viewed him as inferior despite his numerous accolades. “If you would clarify, Minister…. What disadvantages?”

“Your human mother, of course. Among other things.”

Among other things? Spock had always known that he was different. Not only for his human heritage, but for the way his brain was wired. Different from that of a Vulcan and distinct from a neurotypical human. There were certain things Spock had always struggled with, and things he would always excel at. This was no disadvantage in his eyes, simply a mere difference. However, this idea was not shared among society, especially not on Vulcan much to Spock’s displeasure.

The insult to his mother, on the other hand, was his primary motivation. There was no use in attending the Vulcan Science Academy if they could not take Spock as he was. He wished he had realized this earlier, but the VSA’s idea of science was rather backwards. They recoiled at anything out of the norm, a behavior most unbecoming of a group of people so allegedly devoted to science. Spock valued his dignity; he valued the words of his mother and the philosophy of James Kirk: “don’t take anybody’s shit.”

“Council. Ministers. I must decline.”

“No Vulcan has ever declined admission to this academy.”

Spock spoke before he could consider his words, yet he did not regret them. “Then, as I am half human, your record remains untarnished.”

Numerous whispers of disapproval filled his highly attuned ears, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins shrugged them off.

“Why did you come before us? To satisfy your emotional need to rebel?”

“The only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude. Thank you for your consideration. Live long and prosper.” The words dripped with sarcasm, something he’d picked up from a certain blonde about a year ago.

With that, he turned on his heel, eyes set towards the door. Outside, he walked past his peers, their gazes following him as he exited the building. None of them had heard what had happened, but they weren’t stupid. They already knew what Spock had done, and there was no turning back.

Spock was pulled back to the present moment with his father’s voice yet again.

“Spock. You have committed to the Vulcan way. Why choose to dishonor it now?”

Dishonor was a big word, he thought. Spock cared about the Vulcan way, he almost worshipped it. However, it did not care about Spock.

“I do not believe the institution holds my best interests,” he explained more calmly than he felt. “Starfleet Academy offers something I could not find there.”

“And what is that?”

“A pathway to the stars, of course. As you now know, I have a promise to uphold.”

Chapter Text

VIII.

Spock sat still, his back aligned with his chair as he looked over his students. At the moment, he was administering a midterm exam. It was a few days before spring break, something the professor believed was long overdue. Humans, illogical as they were, performed best when they could rest between spurts of activity. This explained their prolonged sleep as well as their customary breaks between each season in the academic calendar. On Vulcan, there was no such thing as seasonal breaks; there were only gaps between school years. Even those were considerably shorter than what humans were given since grade school.

While Spock did not allow personal PADDs or communicators during testing, he was itching to get his hands on his own. Jim promised to text him details of their date and he was anxious to find out what it could be. The fact that he couldn’t predict what was in store was just another thing he loved about Jim. He was never conventional and his ideas usually involved rule breaking with the best possible intentions. Spock didn’t initially approve of this, but he was becoming more open to the idea. Jim brought him out of his shell and kept him comfortable simultaneously- a paradox Spock was grateful for.

The rough scratch of pencils against paper kept Spock from daydreaming, allowing him to watch over the classroom for any signs of disruptive behavior. He found that his classes preferred him to stay at his desk while they worked; something about Spock roaming the aisles and gazing over their shoulders unsettled them. Staying at the front of the room instead was only doable due to his alien sense of hearing.

Despite his dedication to being a responsible test proctor, he found his eyes darting to the ticking clock on the side of the wall. There were only five minutes remaining in the exam. When Spock had been a Starfleet cadet, he was fond of keeping track of time. It helped him outline his written work and find his pace for multiple choice questions. Vulcans had quite a reputation for being timely, and Spock supposed this was one stereotype he fit to a t.

He counted until the bell rang. Students filed out of the room, stacking their work onto Spock’s desk on their way out. The Vulcan didn’t to sort the pile of tests until the last one had been turned in. As soon as the last student closed the door, he pulled his PADD out of his desk. There were two new messages from James Kirk.

>hey spockles i hope ur ready for our hot date tomorrow nite

Spock’s heart sped up. He could feel his palms getting sweaty at the mere thought.

>>I apologize for my delayed response. I was administering an exam.

>>To respond to your original statement, I can assure you the event has been on my mind since you mentioned it this morning.

Jim’s response was almost immediate.

>aww haha im sorry if it distracted you while you oversaw the test. i just can’t wait to surprise you.

>>I am aware you plan to surprise me, but I have an important question: what is the dress code?

>just wear an outfit you’d like to be seduced in. no but rly just wear what makes u feel comfortable i couldn’t care less if you showed up in a bunny suit like that guy from donnie darko

>>Donnie Darko?

>omg you’ve never seen donnie darko… that’ll be our next next date then. jake gyllenhaal is so cool

>>I look forward to this as well. I enjoy watching films with you, James.

>yea well maybe one day you can get me to watch one of those corny romcoms u like so much :p

>> I would not force you to sit through them if you do not like them.

>maybe i don’t like romcoms, but i like you enough to pretend.

>>You flatter me.

IX.

Spock gathered his things and set off to meet Uhura for lunch. He promised to tell her everything, and he never backed out on a promise.

She sat at their usual table, her nails tapping against its surface impatiently as Spock approached. Uhura looked giddy; she expected quite a story.

“Hey, lover-boy,” she greeted the Vulcan, sitting up straight when rolled his eyes. Rather un-Vulcan of him, but the occasion called for such dramatics.

Spock sat across from Nyota, sliding a cup of her favorite tea in her direction. “I apologize for the other night. I did not plan for us to be interrupted.”

She sighed. “Spock, true love is never an interruption! Now tell me everything, I want to know how you and Jim became… whatever it is you are.”

“I was prone to believe you held a distaste for James.” Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well… only because he has a bit of a reputation for going on dates and then ghosting people due to emotional unavailability or whatever. I didn’t know you were the reason he has such high standards.” She explained. “Besides, what kind of a friend would I be if I wasn’t overly curious when it comes to your love life?”

“This is true,” Spock said. “If you must know…”

Spock launched into the tale, starting from the very beginning at Psi Sector IX. He told Nyota about the first time they met, their first study session under the stairs, and the time Jim convinced him to skip class to write poetry. He explained how he regarded Jim as a ‘bad boy,’ the kind of angsty heartthrob found in films for hormonal adolescents. In retrospect, he wasn’t much of a rebel save for his rule breaking tendencies. Jim played it safe, staying within the school’s grounds and showing Spock the wonders of old Terran literature. Spock sighed as he recalled this past; the only part of his teenage years that wasn’t riddled with avoidant behavior and secrets.

Meanwhile, Nyota was captivated. Her eyes were wide, her chin resting upon her hands as Spock drew the story to close.

“And, to update you, James has arranged a surprise for me tomorrow evening. I am anxious, but the excitement outweighs whatever nervousness may plague me.”

“Wow,” she grinned. “That all sounds really sweet. No wonder he walked across campus in a storm to see you!”

“Yes… I must admit, I believe there is something very special between us. This is why I suspect he is my t’hy’la.”

“Oh, my God. Isn’t that like, super serious? You said it’s like having a soulmate.”

“Yes, it is.”

“What do you think he’s got planned for you?” Nyota asked, sunny and genuinely interested. Spock wondered how he went all those years without truly falling for the girl.

He took a moment to think. “If my theories regarding romantic surprises are correct, he will take me out to dinner. Perhaps, if he is feeling shy, with a group.”

 “Jimmy’s never shy.” Nyota snorted.  “So… what are you gonna wear? Can I help?”

X.

After hours debating Uhura on what the appropriate attire could be, the two settled on a black cashmere sweater and slacks. This way, if the event was formal, Spock would look somewhat polished. If it were casual, he would be simple enough not to stick out like a sore thumb.

Spock paced across his living room that evening, not understanding how time could stretch itself into infinity within the course of thirty minutes. He was never an impatient man, but the thought of spending a prolonged evening with James was killing him. Properly sitting down and indulging in one another’s company without restrictions or looming witnesses appealed to Spock greatly.

There was a knock at his door. Spock was startled, but found himself running to the door in hopes of seeing Jim. He stopped before he opened it, taking a second to smooth wrinkles out of his top and adjust his bangs enough to hide a blemish above his left eyebrow.

Almost reluctantly, he twisted the doorknob and there was his human. He still couldn’t believe this was possible, especially after going so long without ever thinking he’d see the man again.

The human stood before him with a bouquet in his hands. It was a lovely gesture, but Spock didn’t see its true beauty until he examined the plants themselves. The majority of them were native to Vulcan, intricate vines wrapped around stems and leaves. Spock recognized them from his mother’s garden- Amanda was fond of this flower, having grown it for as long as Spock could remember in their patio. However, the crowning jewel of the flower bunch lay in its centerpiece- a single red rose, jutting out and establishing itself as a variant amongst the Vulcan flora. Spock couldn’t stop the smile before it spread across his face.

“Hi,” Jim said, gently offering Spock the bouquet. “Did you know that the flower shop Sulu works at has Vulcan flowers?”

“I did not.” Spock took it, stepping aside to allow Jim to enter his apartment. “We will leave as soon as I find a proper vase.”

“Take your time,” Jim called out as Spock ventured into his kitchen.

The Vulcan lowered the flowers into a large vase and set it aside on the counter. Spock shrugged on his jacket, presenting himself almost timidly to Jim. He knew Jim was looking him over, admiring him. It felt good to be gazed at so lovingly.

“What is the surprise, James?”

Kirk only grinned at him, his dimples mesmerizing Spock. He was sure that throughout every dimension, within every alternate universe, Jim’s smile would have the same, brilliant effect on him. It would reassure him, fill his chest with what he could only describe as eager, overflowing love.

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me that.”

“What?”

“James. Everyone usually just calls me Jim.”

Spock tilted his head. “Would you prefer this?”

“No, I just… it feels special, I guess. Intimate.”

A green flush made its presence clear upon Spock’s harsh facial features, dusting across his cheeks. “You still did not answer my question.”

Kirk only shrugged, offering his arm for Spock to latch onto.

As they approached their taxi, the Vulcan couldn’t help but think it all felt right. It took every ounce of his self-control not to ask Kirk any more questions, since they would all be answered in time. Just being with the other man was enough to feel secure, it was a sensation he could not properly describe with words. Jim’s conversation was intellectual yet carefree, a rarity Spock last came across when he first met Uhura. Spock had feared that things between them would have changed after going so long without contact, but they slipped into their roles so easily it was as though they’d never been apart to begin with.

Kirk leaned over the car divider to pay the taxi fare, exchanging a few words with their driver and wishing him a pleasant night. Spock stepped out of the cab, the planetarium before him busy with life. There was an event going on, but somehow he knew this was not why they were here.

Instead, the blonde led him right through the renovated building and straight to its older, less cared for section. Not a lot of people made it a habit to stay in this area very long, proven by the healthy amounts of dust covering exhibits as well as telescopes. It’d been a while since Spock visited the old observatory. It was in decline, seeing that the majority of society had access to higher grade technology. Despite this, human nostalgia prevented the building from being completely abandoned. It held its charm, even if it only held historic value.

He followed Jim to one of the biggest telescopes, watching fondly as the human looked through it in awe. Although the machine did not receive as much love, it was fully functional and provided a beautiful view of the night sky.

“You know why I wanted to come here?” Kirk asked him, leaning on the railing beside the control panel.

Spock was still. “I do not. It is, however, magnificent to see such vital parts of history. To think, without these… there would have been no way for humans to find other planets, much less the life within them.”

“Yeah,” Kirk said, blue eyes sparked with wonder. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

He nodded, going to stand beside Jim. It was closer than he would’ve usually done, but he was feeling brave.

“I believe there is another reason you brought me,” Spock commented, reaching to hold Kirk’s hand.

He examined it, brushing his nimble fingers along Kirk’s knuckles. The old observatory had an open ceiling, making it so the moonlight cascaded through and laminated the two men as they spoke in hushed tones. Spock could not tear his eyes away from their hands; the levels of intimacy displayed were beyond him as their skin touched, Kirk’s calloused fingertips rubbing Spock’s gently.

“When I got back to Iowa, I spent most of my time in the garage. It used to be where my dad kept his antique cars, but after Frank sold them it was all open space.

There was a crack in the roof. It was big enough to see the sky, kind of like the observatory’s open ceiling. From there, I could see a red dot. It was Mars of course, but the thought of seeing a red planet from my shed made my heart hurt. It made me think of you.”

Kirk’s grip on Spock’s hand was firm. Tight enough to secure their connection, but loose enough to show unbridled affection. Spock could feel Kirk’s love, seeping through his touch and making the Vulcan’s body shudder.

“That’s when I decided I’d build my own telescope. It wasn’t enough to think of you, to try to find you… I needed to know you were still out there. I tried everything, but it was impossible to hack into Vulcan records- especially those belonging to your family. Which, by the way, is basically Vulcan royalty. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Spock shrugged. “It did not seem of importance.”

“Right,” Kirk laughed. “Anyway, like I was saying. I couldn’t get through. I was pretty desperate, and drove myself up the wall building a high-tech telescope. It hurt, Spock. To be without you. I tried to talk about it to therapists, but… it’s hard to explain. It’s like, something in my gut… it calls to you. It’s empty without you.”

His heart began beating heavily in his side. Spock knew the feeling Kirk described all too well.

Jim continued. “I tried to get over it. I dated other people, but it just… wasn’t right. I couldn’t get past you, so I pretended you never existed by day and obsessed over you by night.”

Spock’s voice trembled, coming out softly. “I understand, James. I… I was in a similar position. I would write you letters. Hand-written letters. I confessed my hopes and fears, poured everything I ever felt into them… all my love for you,” he paused, blinking back tears. “I swore I would keep the promise I made to you.”

“Oh, Spock…”

“I burnt the letters,” Spock explained, “After my parents read them.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kirk was holding him now, arms wrapped around Spock’s waist. Spock buried his nose in Kirk’s neck, inhaling Jim’s scent. Even when he was doused in a cheap cologne, Spock couldn’t imagine anything better.

Kirk could probably feel hot tears against his skin, but Spock couldn’t make himself care as he brought him closer. “I love you, James.” He said, muffled against the human.

“I love you, too.” Jim pulled him back, initiating their first kiss since Spock’s departure. It was soft, almost hesitant, with Spock’s lips unused to the slide of Kirk’s. There was a physical reaction within Spock’s body; the tension in his shoulders was gone and a unique warmth spread itself from his head to his toes. He was sure Kirk felt it, too.

My mind to your mind, Spock reluctantly pushed against the wall in Kirk’s mind, his fingers brushing on the other’s psi points.

Your thoughts to my thoughts, came Kirk’s reply. The barrier broke down, leaving only a rush of emotions coursing through their shared consciousness.

Parted from me and never parted, never and always touching and touched.

It was nothing like any mind meld Spock had ever partaken in before. What surrounded him was every color known to man. Beautiful sensations left his nerves raw. Most importantly, he felt Jim. He came to know him again, deeper than he’d known anybody. Spock was aware Kirk was coming to know him, too, but felt no urge to hide. There was no shame, no fear, and no dread. Nothing.

Breaking apart, Spock cupped Jim’s face in his hands.

“T’hy’la,” he whispered, now certain.

Jim leaned into Spock’s touch. “What’s that word mean?”

“It means our souls are one and the same. You are mine and I am yours.” He breathed out. Spock was smiling now. “That is, if you will have me.”

The blonde was giggling now, his face adorned with the stars' light. “Yes, Spock. If it means I never have to be away from you ever again, a million times yes.”

At this moment, Spock realized two things: his life, as hard it may be, has turned around for the better. With his t’hy’la in his arms, he could ask for nothing more. This, and that he would write a new letter- to his parents. Despite their flaws, he needed them to know he would be okay; that he felt absolutely fine.