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The advantage of taking things slow is the ability to keep a secret, without anything being rushed to the fore.
Thanks to having shared a mind meld with both Spocks, James Tiberius Kirk is privy to all sorts of information on Vulcan-friendly date ideas, tips and tricks for the bedroom, and the like. But most importantly, he knows that the other Jim’s birthday is two months away his own, give-or-take. He knew he was a preemie, simply due to the stress on his mother during the Kelvin attack, but now this tidbit is all the more interesting to know.
He’s mostly excited to realize how fortunate he is to have a birthday so close to Spock’s.
And although Spock - his Spock - had also seen the memories of the Ambassador, there’s no way that he’d be able to see this surprise coming. His first officer (and, recently, boyfriend) had his birthday redacted from most Starfleet records, probably to avoid any and all surprise parties, gifting, and well-wishes that are roughly unnecessary to his daily life. But surely a birthday wouldn’t be complete without a little fun, come hell or high water. He just had to set the scene.
The first step is, well, the where. Spock has been lowkey excited (try as he might to not admit it) about stopping for a couple days next to a nebula for analysis. The best place to see it is the observation deck. So when the daily newsletter goes out shipwide saying that the observation deck will be closed on January 5th, Spock is… unenthused.
So much so that he corners Jim in the turbolift, and with his angled brows furrowed in frustration, he asks, “Have I done something undesirable?”
Jim doesn’t know how to react. “What?” He reaches out and stops the lift. For the amount of time he spends in a paused turbolift, maybe he should move his office there. “Babe, what are you talking about?” They were about to head down to the deck, all set up for a romantic post-shift dinner with a nebula backdrop. God help him if he messed this up now.
“The observation deck has been closed for the last sixteen hours. I have been unable to study the nebula from the most efficient vantage point on-ship,” Spock says, and Jim can tell he’s trying to keep his voice even. Trying to keep out the disappointment and the annoyance, because he’s not too keen on picking fights with his captain-boyfriend anymore, or at least unfounded ones. “May I request that we alter the ship’s orbit so that a similar observation point-”
Ah, but his voice cracks, and Jim moves to place a hand on his shoulder. “Listen. I know you want to check out the nebula. And no, you didn’t do anything to piss me off. Engineering just had to make a few adjustments down there, is all. Messed with the environmental controls.” He squeezes the flesh through blue fabric and the warmth, the resonance, of a not-quite-bonded bond radiates up his arm and back into his chest. “This isn’t punishment, Spock. I was actually about to take you there, to see if you could work with the current state of the deck. You know, despite the repairs.”
Spock is hesitant, but nods. His face relaxes, and Jim’s whole body follows suit. “I am determined to ‘power through it,’ as you would say,” the Vulcan intones, and that’s one small victory.
The bigger one is when they use the security override to enter the observation deck, and Spock first notices that there is no sign of active repairs, or any other crewmember in sight. And then he sees a low seating area with rugs and tapestries, austere yet comfortable. The air seems thinner than usual, the temperature kicked up a few degrees, and there’s just a tad more gravity in this room.
He finishes processing it the second Jim takes his hand and leads him to the table, and he catches a whiff of traditional Vulcan seafood. Instead of a half-smile, he gives a customary raised brow. “Jim, I surmise that the observation deck did not need any repairs at all.”
The captain stops, and he knows he’s been found out. Instead of being sheepish he uses the opportunity to grandstand a little, and he beams a grin while he gestures around. “I needed a little time to get the atmosphere right. Computer, raise observation window shade.”
The nebula is thick and milky and oscillating just slowly enough that the human eye can’t truly detect it. But it glows warmly, all orange and red and yellow, and the ambient color tints the room. Jim has done a very thorough job in channeling the feel of Vulcan, and Spock feels briefly overwhelmed.
“Join me for dinner?”
They sit, and Jim doesn’t mind that most of their conversation revolves around an infodump on nebulous composition. He’s glad that he thought to wear a short sleeved uniform today, and he’s more impressed with Vulcan food than he thought he would be, but it could just be the butter sauce talking. He’s savoring a bite when Spock’s hands and gaze fall entirely on his plate, instead of the celestial occurrence outside, and Jim pauses. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think that his first officer was bashful all of a sudden.
No, as it turns out, he doesn’t know better. Spock looks up at him, verdant blush teasing across his cheeks and up to the points of his ears (which is truly one of the most endearing things Jim has ever seen) and locks eyes with the man across the table. Amicable silence, and then: “Happy birthday, Jim.”
The thin air of the Vulcan-ized observation deck left Kirk’s lungs, and the captain has to remind himself how to breathe. Now Spock’s really got his goat. The ethereal glow bathing their private dinner party seemes to add just the tiniest bit of shimmer to every surface it touches, and deepens every shadow it creates. The whole scene, Jim thought, was reminiscent of an impressionist painter’s rendition of a sunset beach. He reaches out and takes his recent boyfriend’s hand. Their near-bond flutters to life, shockwaves of warmth and soul-deep knowing running back and forth like electric currents. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, Jim thinks. He longs for a completion of that bond. Maybe some other day, some other year, but eventually. In this moment, in the delicious in-between, they have all the time in the world.
“Happy birthday, Spock.”