Work Text:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
- Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
Spock lifted his eyes from the padd and sat in stunned silence. He didn’t know what had possessed him to read a book of ancient terran poetry. Somehow his evening meditation had turned into reading, and rather than science journals or Vulcan poetry, it was to his mother’s homeworld that he turned. The line echoed again in his mind.
You have only to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves
Spock had never felt so out of control of his emotions. All the years of training, of logic’s might suffocating his emotional side, his human side, were swept away by this simple sentence. He was twelve years old again, awash in the tumultuous sea of his mind.
No. No, he was not. This wave of emotion wasn’t ungovernable, irrational. He knew exactly what it was telling him - something he’d tried to deny for years, proving it false to himself over and over again. That had been illogical, he realized with a start. To deny an obvious truth was the most illogical thing he’d ever done.
Decision made, Spock stood and strode out of his quarters. He walked quickly to the next apartment, knocking purposefully on the Captain’s door. It slid open to reveal Jim sitting at his desk poring over a supplies report. Kirk looked up at Spock and his face immediately broke into a smile.
“Spock!” Jim said, tossing the report down and moving out from behind the desk. “Care for a game? I could use something to take my mind off--” he stopped speaking as Spock came up to him purposefully, standing barely inches away from him.
“Spock?” he asked, his voice taking on a different tone.
Spock raised his hands slowly to frame Jim’s face, waiting just below his chin, not touching, but within a hair’s breadth. Jim inhaled shakily, drawing Spock’s eyes to his lips. The moment stretched between them.
“May I?” Spock finally said.
“Yes,” Jim breathed.
Spock cupped Kirk’s face and bent to resolutely press his lips to Jim’s. Jim’s lips were as soft as he’d imagined, firm and warm against his own. As they embraced Kirk’s arms came around his waist and pulled him closer, like they could never be close enough. At last Spock pulled back and looked at Jim. His brown eyes were shining. Spock’s knew his were too.
“Why now?” Jim asked.
“I love you,” Spock said, his voice trembling. “And that’s all I have to do.”