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“How do I look, Commander?” Jim asks grandly, spreading his arms wide to show himself off. Spock’s facial expression doesn’t change - never does - but Jim has learned to track the light in his eyes, human brown and more expressive than any Jim ever saw earthside.
Of course, that’s not to say that Jim can always figure out what exactly Spock’s eyes are expressing. It’s a work in progress.
“Captain, are you quite certain that this-” Spock’s skin is alien hot against Jim’s where his touch lands feather-light in the hollow of Jim’s throat. “-particular accoutrement is necessary?” He scrapes of a line off the glitter gel underneath his nail and holds it up to catch in the unforgiving lights of the transporter bay. In spite of how suave he’s been rumored to be, Jim can’t breathe.
“It is, as a matter of fact,” Bones speaks up. He catches Jim’s eye over Spock’s shoulder, grins that wicked faux-innocent gap toothed grin, and winks. “It’s Kithryvian custom that the highest ranking person is the prettiest.”
Bones circles around Spock, past the control panel where the officer on duty is pretending for all she’s worth that she’s somewhere else, behind Jim. He’s a southern comfort predator. He brushes his hands up Jim’s sides; unlike Spock’s his touch is firm, sure, steady. Familiar and confident in being welcomed. Spock’s eyes, alight and hard as steel, intimidating, captivating, follow the movement precisely.
Bones laughs a little, just a quiet smug little thing, smelling of mint as it washes over Jim’s face from behind. He uses his firm touch to spread Jim out further, and Jim obeys it. Then, with a knuckle under Jim’s chin, Bones tilts back Jim’s head to bare his glittered up throat to the lights and to Spock.
“So?” Bones prompts. “Whaddya say, is he pretty enough?”
There’s a long pause, and Jim still can’t breathe.
Finally Spock concludes, “Just so, Doctor. You have performed your duties beyond expectation, as usual.”
His voice is as even as it ever is, but there’s something. Just the barest hint of something, underneath. Next time, Jim hopes desperately, sucking in air as Spock steps away and Bones kisses the arousal sweat at Jim’s temple.
“Next time,” Bones promises in a whisper in Jim’s ear.
They’ll finally get Spock to show it, to act on it, that something. Next time.