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Of course, it had to be Jim’s quarters.
The new refit they’d undergone a few months ago had caused significantly more issues than it had solved, and Jim was once again finding himself face to face with yet another malfunction. Except this time, he couldn’t pass off the problem to Scotty’s team and escape off-duty. Which was how Jim found himself standing outside Spock’s door, pajamas and toothbrush in hand.
It took only moments for Spock to answer Jim’s chime, and the carefully suave explanation Jim had rehearsed flew completely from his mind once he saw what Spock was wearing. Or rather, what he was not wearing.
Spock stood before him in nothing but the smallest of regulation briefs, and if Jim’s imagination had been lacking, it certainly was not anymore.
Blushing furiously, Jim forced himself to meet Spock’s eyes.
“I need a place to stay,” he managed.
Spock, still standing in the doorway, lifted an eyebrow in question.
“Is there some reason why my quarters are preferable to your own?”
Quite a few reasons, actually, Jim wanted to say.
Instead, he allowed himself one long, slow blink to regain his composure.
“It’s snowing,” he said by way of explanation, quickly squashing his grin at the sight of Spock, in his underwear, trying to figure out how Jim’s quarters could possibly be experiencing any type of weather phenomenon.
“Perhaps you should enter,” Spock said, stepping aside for Jim to come in.
He did, keeping as much space as possible between himself and Spock’s bare skin.
Once inside, he flopped down on a chair in Spock’s small sitting area. Spock followed, taking a seat across from him, still wearing next to nothing.
Jim wished desperately that Spock would put on pants, or at least a robe, but at the same time, a deeply tratorious part of his mind was drinking in every tiny detail.
Feeling his cheeks begin to redden again, Jim blurted out the first semi-relevant thing his brain could come up with.
“It’s the refit malfunctions again,” he said quickly, and that was enough explanation for Spock’s posture to wilt in defeat, ever so slightly.
The damn glitches had started nearly a week after they’d left the starbase, and by that point they’d been well on their way to their next assignment. It had started small, with the replicator producing decaf instead of regular coffee (although that alone had had a staggering effect on the alpha shift officers) and the turbolift delivering passengers to Deck 6 instead of Deck 7. Quickly enough, though, the malfunctions grew more and more significant until even the artificial gravity generator had been affected, resulting in quite a few bumps and bruises. Scotty had been working around the clock to try and find the source of the problem, with little luck. Jim had given up on trying to order him to sleep when Bones had taken matters into his own hands and had actually hypoed Scotty with a blow dart. Jim was determined to give them both a wide berth until everything was back to normal.
Which left him at Spock’s door.
“I’m not sure if it’s the whole starboard side of the deck, but at least three conference rooms and a lab that I passed also have something wrong with the climate controls. And I need at least a few hours of sleep before I can deal with that,” Jim said, stifling a yawn.
Spock nodded.
“Of course, Captain. You are welcome to sleep in my quarters. I myself was just about to retire.”
“Thanks, Spock,” Jim sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “And we’re off-duty so, please , call me Jim. Although… um…”
Glancing around, he realized he had completely forgotten that Spock didn’t have a single piece of furniture resembling anything close to a couch.
Spock stood, and Jim blushed again.
“Jim?”
“I just… Where do you want me to sleep?”
Spock looked confused.
“I believe my bed is large enough to accommodate us both,” Spock said, and Jim had to cross his legs.
Focus, he thought desperately to himself. On something else. Anything else.
“Right,” Jim said, forcing himself to smile. “Um, do you mind if I…” he gestured in the direction of the bathroom.
“Of course,” Spock said, stepping aside for Jim to scoot quickly past him.
Once the door was safely locked behind him, he let out a breath he hadn’t even known he had been holding in. He clutched his pajamas to his chest, staring at himself in the mirror.
Keep it together, Jim, he thought sternly. You may be in love with him, but you can keep it in your pants.
And of course, just as he told himself that, the part of his brain that was decidedly not keeping it in his pants had to conjure up about fifteen different mental images of Spock in those tiny briefs, and then Spock not in those tiny briefs…
One cold shower later, Jim had changed, brushed his teeth, and forced his mind to behave.
It’s one night , he told himself. All you have to do is fall asleep.
After a quick, steadying breath, Jim unlocked the door and stepped into the bedroom area.
And then suddenly regretted every decision he’d ever made that had led to him standing right there, at that exact moment, staring at his first officer, who was buck naked.
In that moment, Jim gained an extremely deep understanding of the old phrase like a deer in headlights.
“Spock,” he nearly gasped, “please put your penis away.”
Immediately, he clapped both hands over his mouth, scrunching his eyes shut and feeling himself blush deeper than he ever had before in his life.
He peeked open one eye to see that Spock had finally, mercifully, reached for a robe.
He opened his other eye a moment later, just in time to catch Spock turning back around, robe firmly knotted, an absolutely unreadable expression on his face.
Jim lowered his shaking hands from his mouth, for a moment unable to say anything as Spock continued to stare at him.
“Fuck,” Jim groaned, his heart feeling as if it were about to beat out of his chest. “Spock, I’m so sorry— That was so inappropriate—”
“Captain,” Spock began icily, and Jim wished there were a nearby airlock he could throw himself out of. “If you are so disturbed by my body, it would be prudent to make me aware of that fact before we sleep in the same space. As you know, Vulcans do not often rest in clothing,” he said, his eyes narrowed.
Jim, who decidedly did not know that Vulcans slept naked, was finding it hard to form a sentence.
“I— Wh— Away missions…?” was all he could muster.
Spock coldly raised an eyebrow at him.
“Surely you did not expect me to sleep in my uniform in circumstances other than our being stranded planetside?” Spock snapped, his anger beginning to seep into his tone. “Or perhaps I was alone in assuming that one would not choose to sleep in their work attire,” he said testily.
Jim was feeling light-headed.
“No, no, of course not,” he said, unsure how to dig himself out of the hole he had created. “I think there’s been a miscommunication, Spock, I— I didn’t know that, and you don’t disturb me at all. No part of you could ever do that.” He took a breath.
“That’s definitely not what I meant. I just—” he stopped himself and took another breath.
“I’m sorry, Spock,” he finished lamely, unsure of what else to say.
As he spoke, Spock’s countenance changed subtly, the minute traces of anger that had colored his expression moments before fading into a puzzled sort of wariness.
“Jim,” Spock said, his gaze inscrutable. “What did you mean?”
Fuck.
Jim stared at Spock, feeling himself standing at the edge of a cliff and realizing he had no options left but to jump. He swallowed, feeling himself blush for what felt like the millionth time that evening. Gazing at Spock, he steeled his nerves before taking the leap.
“The reason I was uncomfortable,” Jim started, haltingly, “wasn’t because I was repulsed by your body. In fact… just the opposite,” he said, suddenly unable to look at Spock. He glanced downwards, fixing his gaze on a point just between his bare feet.
“I’m in love with you, Spock,” he said, speaking to the floor. “And I’m sorry, I thought I could keep it under control, that nothing would change, but… Apparently not. I’m truly sorry.”
Spock was silent, and Jim couldn’t bear to look up at him.
“I’ll just— go find Bones,” he said softly, turning towards the door. All at once, a pair of strong hands wrapped around his upper arms, spinning him gently back around to face Spock, who was staring at him quite intently with an expression Jim had never seen.
“Jim,” Spock said, and he had never heard his name said quite like that before, much less from his first officer. Spock’s eyes bored into his own, and in that moment Jim could have sworn the grav generator had malfunctioned again. He felt like he was floating, suspended in Spock’s gaze.
“Do you mean that?” Spock asked, his voice low and smooth in a way that sent shivers racing up Jim’s spine.
“Mean what?” Jim gasped, his hands coming up to rest on Spock’s chest almost of their own volition.
Spock swallowed, breaking eye contact briefly, involuntarily, his gaze flickering to Jim’s lips and back up to his eyes. Jim felt like he was going to faint.
“That you are in love with me,” Spock said, in a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper.
“Yes,” Jim breathed, his face mere inches from Spock’s. He could see his own reflection, fuzzy and indistinct, shining in Spock’s eyes.
Jim wasn’t sure who closed the distance between them, for all he knew was that in the blink of an eye, Spock was holding him, breathing him in, kissing him with more passion than Jim had ever dared to dream. Jim’s arms twined around Spock’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer, and he felt Spock’s sharp intake of breath as he threaded his fingers through his dark hair.
Spock, not to be outdone, slid his hands under Jim’s shirt and around his waist, kissing him even harder and tightening his grip until Jim was sure he would leave a mark. The thought filled him with a desire so strong he nearly lost his breath, and he broke off their kiss to pull back and grab Spock’s face in his hands. He was pleased to note that Spock was breathing just as heavily as he was, yet Jim knew he looked just as wrecked as the man before him.
The two stared at each other for an instant before Jim pulled him into a crushing embrace, burying his face in Spock’s neck and holding him as tightly as he possibly could. Spock’s arms wrapped around his back once more, one hand coming up to stroke his hair, and Jim squashed his resulting grin into Spock’s shoulder.
After a long moment, the two pulled back, gazing at each other, still holding on.
“We’re probably gonna have to figure this out,” Jim whispered, reaching up to brush his fingertip over the top of Spock’s ear, the way he’d ached to for so long.
Spock leaned into the touch, a rare, fleeting smile darting across his face.
“I believe we can do that tomorrow,” Spock whispered back, catching the index and middle fingers of Jim’s free hand with his own. At the contact, Jim felt a warm tingle spread up his arm and throughout his whole body, making him pull Spock even closer.
“Sounds like we’ll have a busy day then,” he said, smiling happily up at Spock.
“Indeed,” Spock murmured, stepping back and tugging Jim towards the bed. “In that case, we must get our rest.”
They slept soundly together that night, and many nights after.