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Spock finds he is unsurprised when Kirk shows up at the doors to his quarters.
"Captain," he greets. "Come in."
Kirk does, and waits until Spock sits to take the chair across from him. "I wanted to thank you for coming on this mission," he says. "Your assistance and insight were invaluable."
To another Vulcan, Spock would respond that such thanks are illogical, as he had simply been performing his duty. But humans, he’s learned, find value in the giving and receiving of thanks that are, to him, unnecessary, and may become frustrated if they are not accepted. He nods his head in noncommittal acknowledgement.
Kirk says nothing in response but continues to sit, his fingers tapping absently on the armrest. After several minutes, Spock realizes that he will need to prompt his Captain.
"That's not all you came here to say."
Kirk grins ruefully. "No, it's not," he confirms. "I wanted to ask…" he trails off, looking uncertain. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “What stopped you from completing the Kolinahr ritual?” he finally says, and Spock gets the impression that it is not what Kirk truly wanted to ask.
“The final ceremony was interrupted when I felt V’Ger’s consciousness. The lead elder requested a mind meld, so that she might know what I had sensed, and when she was done she said that I had not achieved Kolinahr. Whether that was only because of V’Ger’s influence, I do not know.”
(This is, perhaps, not strictly true. Maybe he can’t be certain but he can suspect, and he suspects that V’Ger was not the problem.)
Kirk nods slowly. “And you’re not going to try it again, right? Not now, not ever?”
“No. What the elder told me is true - my answers lie elsewhere.”
“Answers…” Kirk muses. “The same sort of answers V’Ger was seeking, perhaps? ‘Is this all that I am?’”
“Perhaps,” Spock agrees carefully.
“And where is this ‘elsewhere,’ do you think?”
“I believe it is here. On this ship, with you.”
Kirk is silent at that but not still, chewing on his lip and continuing to tap at the armrest. "Why did you try to undergo Kolinahr?" he finally asks, like he can longer hold back the words. "I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d gone back to Vulcan. I thought you liked your role at Starfleet, had gotten used to being around us emotional, illogical humans."
"I did not leave because I found my time with Starfleet unfulfilling, or the company wanting,” Spock clarifies. “I left because I became aware of certain… feelings I had, feelings that I could not control. Purging them seemed the logical solution."
"What feelings could have been so awful that you decided it would be better to get rid of all emotions than continue experiencing them?" Kirk asks, and Spock recognizes his tone as the same one he used in negotiations when he was upset but trying hard not to show it, usually as a result of someone threatening the Enterprise or her crew.
"The feelings were not awful," Spock corrects. "On the contrary, it is because they were, in many respects, pleasant that I could not control them adequately."
"What were these feelings?" Kirk asks, and the anger is gone from his voice. "Please," he adds, when Spock doesn't respond.
It is ridiculous to find that additional, emotional plea compelling, but he does.
"They were feelings for you, Jim," he admits, "that went beyond the bounds of friendship." It's cowardly, but he doesn't look at Kirk as he says it.
For a long moment, Kirk is silent. He finally says, "You never told me."
"I thought that any admission would, whatever my intentions, imply a request for you to reciprocate. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable."
"Spock," Kirk breathes, and Spock reluctantly meets his gaze. "Even if I didn't feel the same way, how could I have ever been anything less than - than honored to know I was important to you?"
Spock is so distracted by the end of that sentence that it takes him a second to realize the implications of the first part. "If you didn't feel the same?" he repeats.
“I have loved you for so long,” Kirk says quietly, “that I can scarcely remember what it was like not to.”
Without breaking eye contact, Kirk pushes himself out of his chair, and crosses the few feet to kneel in front of Spock, putting a hand on Spock’s knee for balance, which Spock covers with his own. Kirk reaches his other hand towards Spock’s face, stopping a few inches short. “May I?”
Spock nods, not trusting his voice. Kirk’s touch is light, even reverential. He strokes his thumb across Spock’s cheek and Spock leans helplessly into the contact. The touch is intimate, so much so that it would be overwhelming if it did not feel so simply, undeniably right. Then Kirk moves his hand back until it’s cupping the back of Spock’s neck, fingers tangled in his hair. Slowly, gently, Kirk pulls Spock’s head down and forward until their lips meet.
If Spock had ever imagined kissing Kirk, it wouldn’t have been like this. This is soft and chaste, lasting only seconds. And yet, it is monumental.
When they pull away, Kirk is breathing harder than can be explained by his level of physical activity, and staring at Spock with wide eyes.
“Spock?” he says hoarsely. “Say something.”
“That cannot be a comfortable position to maintain,” is what comes out of his mouth.
Kirk snorts lightly. “It’s really not,” he admits. “But…” he trails off, turning the hand still on Spock’s knee so that his fingers entangle Spock’s own, and Spock realizes that Kirk is reluctant to give up their physical contact.
“Here,” Spock says, moving over so that Kirk can join him on the chair. Throughout the maneuvering, their hands don’t leave each other.
Even once situated, Kirk stays silent, perhaps sensing that Spock is ordering his thoughts.
“I am not human,” Spock finally begins. “Even after living among you for years, there are human experiences I do not fully understand, and I expect I never will. One of these experiences is love. I know what the word means, but not how it feels. And so I do not know if what I feel for you can accurately be described as such.” Spock examines Kirk’s face closely, but can find no trace of the disappointment or anger he believed such an admission would prompt.
“What I do know,” he continues, “is that you are special to me, and I want you in my life. And,” he adds, more hesitantly, “I would like to kiss you again.”
“I think you understand love better than you think you do,” Kirk says, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, “because that’s how I feel about you.”
This time, it is Spock who brings their lips together.