Work Text:
Spock’s opponent pressed her index and middle fingers to her temples, shutting her eyes and exhaling a defeated breath. She pushed over her king as she accepted defeat, and she knew better than to shake his hand. Spock simply nodded at the other player, ignoring the applause and camera flashes from their audience and the sound of the commentator declaring him victorious.
He stood and straightened his robes, walking away from the table in possession of his 4th Federation Chess Championship win.
He had not been nervous.
His parents were proud.
-
Spock had loved chess for the majority of his life. Sarek had taught him as a child, imparting a game of logic and strategy that granted Spock the opportunity he craved: to prove himself.
He competed on Vulcan until he began to rank among the grandmasters on his planet. He was invited to tournament after tournament, gaining fame within the chess community across the Federation.
It came to no surprise that he won the title of Federation Champion for the first time at age 16, nor the subsequent three.
He loved chess, and he loved a challenge. They were rare, for him.
-
The Earth Open tournament had always been an important event for Spock and his family. His mother enjoyed the trips to her home planet, and Spock enjoyed seeing her light up among the often perplexing scenes of Earth. In his experience, the competition was mediocre. He expected this year to be no different as he waited in the line to complete his registration
“There’s Spock. Do you think he’ll win again this year?” He heard a fellow player ask another. The young human woman likely forgot that he was not out of earshot of their conversation.
“I would say yes, but Kirk has won upset after upset. Maybe he’ll beat Spock, too. Can you imagine?” Her companion replied excitedly.
Kirk . Spock did not recognize the name from previous Earth tournaments, and mentally chastised himself for electing to not preview the roster of potential competitors while on the journey to Earth from Vulcan.
He pushed the curiosity out of his mind. Many ambitious players had sat, and lost, across the board from him. There was no need to dwell.
He watched J.T. Kirk float up the score boards throughout the tournament. On the final day, his name appeared across from Spock’s on the top board.
He was not nervous.
-
Spock sat on the floor of his hotel room, meditating. He played the final match of the tournament repeatedly in his mind.
Kirk had almost defeated him.
Spock had not played a match like this since he first played his father, before chess was as easy and natural to him as breathing.
He wanted to blame his distractedness on Kirk’s conduct. It was unprofessional. He sat with his elbows on the table or his legs sprawled, hands buried in his golden hair or fingers tapping the table rapidly when he focused. He laughed when Spock claimed his pieces, locked his gaze on Spock’s face while Spock took his turn like he was studying him. He watched him like he could predict his moves if he just looked hard enough, his bright blue eyes a color Spock would never have seen if he had not left Vulcan.
Kirk played chess like he had nothing to prove.
However, it would not be fair to claim that Kirk’s near victory was all due to distraction. He had a strategy so...confusing, to Spock. He often could not predict the move the man across from him would take next, and it took more effort than he had had to use in many matches to counter his attacks.
It was the most exhilarating match Spock had ever played. When Kirk finally resigned, he leaned back in his chair and beamed at Spock. His heart beat hard in his side.
“Wow, Spock. That was a damn good game,” he had said with the familiarity of an old friend. He reached his hand out to Spock, who just blinked at it slowly and nodded. Kirk had looked confused when he abruptly stood, straightened his robes, and walked away. He had not attempted to find his parents, choosing to escape to his room immediately.
Spock found refuge within chess. It was comfortable to him and controlled in ways the world around him often was not. Neither Kirk nor his chess moves had made sense to Spock, and Spock had almost let him beat him.
It would not happen again.
-
Spock could not stop looking forward to it, the again .
He had researched Kirk on his PADD, looking too long at the photos of him in his academy reds on his player statistics page. It said that he was a chess rookie, having picked up the game during his first year at the academy.
Spock had difficulty accepting this information. He had almost been beaten by a player with less than a year’s worth of experience under his belt.
Vulcans didn’t lie, and Spock would be lying if he said that he did not choose his next tournament based on Kirk’s confirmed invitation to the same event.
He may have been lying to himself about why the idea of a rematch with Kirk filled him with adrenaline.
-
Of course, Kirk would be present at a tournament on Risa, Spock thought. The atmosphere of the planet surely matched Kirk’s nature, as observed by Spock during their first match on Earth, and now as he watched him. They were both having dinner at the restaurant located in the hotel where the tournament was to take place. Kirk sat at a table across the room from Spock, surrounded by peers. Spock sat alone, having come to acquire a salad, eat, and return to his room.
He had absolutely not hoped to see Kirk.
He looked relaxed, his skin flushed from whatever drink he held in his hand. His eyes sparkled as he laughed with his friends. Spock could not look away.
Eventually, Kirk looked up in Spock’s direction. Their eyes met and Kirk’s grin grew ever brighter as he excused himself and walked over to Spock’s table.
Spock was nervous.
-
Spock had a match the next morning at 0900 hours. This was hours away, and he was currently pressed against the door of Kirk’s hotel room, his lips on Spock’s.
They had sat together at Spock’s table long past the time it took for him to finish his salad. Kirk, Jim , he had told him, was fascinating. He asked Spock question after question about his life, his past matches, his hobbies. Spock had found himself answering every one, and listening intently to Kirk’s responding stories and rants. Spock had not wanted the evening to end.
He was grateful that it hadn’t, as Kirk’s hands gripped his hips and rocked them against his own. Spock gasped, and Kirk broke away to smile at him.
He had barely stopped smiling at him.
-
Spock had arrived right on time for his match, wearing yesterday’s robes and smelling like Kirk’s soap.
-
On the last day of the tournament on Risa, Spock won his final match. Kirk groaned.
“I really thought I had you this time!”
Spock had known that he would win by middlegame. He had expected Kirk’s unpredictable spontaneity, more equipped to counter it than he was on Earth.
“Maybe next time,” Spock told him, knowing Kirk could see the smirk on his face.
“Definitely, next time,” Kirk assured him.
-
Despite having exchanged contact information, Spock did not hear from Jim again until 5 days before the Federation Championship.
He had tried to not be hurt by the silence, as he knew that Kirk had many friends, and lovers, in San Francisco. They had made each other no promises during their nights together in Jim’s hotel room on Risa.
Spock could not help but replay those nights. When he closed his eyes, Spock often saw Kirk surrounded by white sheets, showered in morning light, looking at Spock with emotions in his eyes that Spock couldn’t read.
> I qualified for the championship
Spock knew already, having watched Kirk’s progress intently. He knew that he would undoubtedly be invited to the championship.
Another message immediately followed.
> I guess it would be dumb to ask if you’ll be there?
The tournament was to be hosted by Vulcan. The Vulcan Science Academy was more than willing to open its doors to the competitors, always looking for an opportunity to showcase their institution to the world beyond their planet.
> Yes, I will be competing.
Spock would be the first player to win 5 consecutive championships.
> Meet me in my hotel, when I get there?
Spock had thought of nothing but Kirk, since Risa. No amount of meditation seemed to help him focus on endgame strategies rather than memories rough hands and carefree laughter. Meeting with him would be unwise if he intended to succeed at the championship. Spock did not reply.
-
Spock had avoided Kirk throughout the tournament. It was not difficult, as Kirk stayed in the hotel in ShiKahr, and Spock at home. He simply avoided Kirk’s glances as they played their respective matches.
Once again, their names were together on the scoreboard for the final match.
-
Kirk was already seated at the board when Spock arrived and took his place across from him. He looked at Kirk, who did not quite meet his eyes as he started Spock’s clock.
They played quietly, with Kirk lacking his usual energy and good humor. He was losing, and he did not appear to care.
Spock spoke in the middle of his turn, over an hour into the game. He could no longer watch Jim’s lackluster performance, not when every previous encounter between them had been marked with heat and quick wit and attraction.
“I believe I owe you an apology, Jim.”
Blue eyes finally met his, Kirk’s eyebrows raising as he glanced down at the clock, as Spock’s time ticked away.
“So you’re going to talk to me now, in the middle of all this?” He said, gesturing to their surroundings. Some audience members mumbled in confusion or excitement.
Spock ignored the remark and continued.
“I was afraid, of you, Jim, of how much you distracted me from…all of this,” He gave a smaller version of Jim’s gesture, “I did not realize the value in that. In you. I had convinced myself that I must focus on the championship, that I could not do both, now or in the future.”
Kirk softened, nodding for Spock to continue.
“I had not been living, or competing, for myself, but for others who do not matter. It was melancholy, before you. This game should be the match of our lives, Jim. Not this. I am…hoping that we can change that, now. And I would like to meet you in your hotel, after.”
Spock could practically feel the disapproval of the Vulcans in the audience.
Spock made his move, finally pressing the clock button. He forced himself to breathe as he awaited Kirk’s response.
The other man leaned forward on his elbows, and the enamored smile Spock had begun to believe belonged to him settled on his face.
“You’re on.”