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“Father, did you love my mother?” Spock asked, with no preamble at all, and Sarek looked up from his book and blinked at his son. Twice. It was the only indication that Sarek was at all surprised by the question or its subject matter. Slowly, and after a long pause, Sarek nodded.
“Yes, I loved her. Very much.”
“When did you realize you cared for her?” Once again, Sarek blinked in response and took his time to consider his answer. Spock wrung his hands behind his back, unwilling to show his father his nerves. They may both be adults, but Spock still harbored a healthy respect of his father’s opinion. It was logical.
“I found myself enjoying her company more than anyone else’s. I… I wanted to spend all of my time with her. Helping her, if I could be of any help at all to her and her work. No matter how theoretically illogical it was, her presence felt correct.” Perhaps it was an overly clinical way to describe falling in love, but there it was. Spock nodded once, chest tightening sharply at the memory of his mother. She would’ve known what to say. She would’ve known how to help Spock.
But Amanda was gone, and Spock had to ask Sarek for advice on love, of all things. Of all the illogical things Spock had done in the last few weeks, this one was the worst.
“Thank you, Father.” Spock turned to leave, carefully adjusting his hands into a casual grip behind his back before he gave his father his back.
“Spock,” Sarek began, a note of imploration in his voice making Spock stop. “Have you… Is there a reason that you have asked me these questions?”
Spock knew better than to tell his father what has occupied his thoughts of late, but he also couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot. There was nothing close to the truth that he could say that would not earn him a scolding, no matter if his actions had been right. So he told the truth.
“Yes.” And then Spock walked out of his father’s room without another word. Sarek did not call out to him, and Spock felt a little vindicated at the small act of rebellion.
-
The hospital room, sterile as it was, reminded Spock of death. He slipped in quietly, just in time to hear James Kirk let out a sharp breath as Doctor McCoy looked him over. The doctor shot Spock a glance, but kept examining the captain.
Spock was expected. McCoy had called him some hours prior to let him know that Kirk showed signs of awakening, and Spock had asked if he could be there. Bones sat on that for a few moments, quiet shock clear in the air between them. He’d agreed, of course, otherwise Spock wouldn’t have come (yes, he would have, even if the doctor had threatened him with death), but the man seemed confused either way. And to tell the truth, Spock himself felt confused, and he had felt so for the last two weeks since the incident had occurred, so he needed to see the captain’s face. He needed to see his ridiculous little smirk and his stupidly blue eyes. He needed to replace his last memory of James Kirk, of the man breathing his last while separated from Spock by a few measly inches of glass. He needed confirmation that the man lived again.
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. You were barely dead. It was the transfusion that really took its toll. You were out cold for two weeks.” How the doctor could be so casual, Spock didn’t know. Couldn’t fathom it, really. His heart beat faster than it ought to in his chest.
“Transfusion?” Jim asked, voice thick and raw and oh, he was alive and Spock could barely breathe just from hearing his voice again.
“Your cells were heavily irradiated; we had no choice.” There was a pause then as the captain processed what must’ve happened to him.
“Khan?” He breathed, and Spock’s heart involuntarily quickened its already brisk pace in his chest. This time, it is not from relief but from sheer, unadulterated fury. Spock had never felt such hatred for a being in his entire existence, and he rather loathed the fact that the man had been allowed to live at all. But without him, he wouldn’t have Kirk anymore, so his hatred is truly illogical. The thought does nothing to abate the rage.
“Once we caught him, I synthesized a serum from his… super blood. Tell me, are you feeling homicidal? Power-mad? Despotic?”
“No more than usual,” Jim replied, still soft-spoken in comparison to his usual commanding presence, but Spock was glad to hear him joke, all the same. “How’d you catch him?”
“I didn’t,” the doctor said, shooting Jim a look that Spock couldn’t begin to decipher, and then the man stepped away. Kirk looked at him, then, and Spock stepped forward to see the man for the first time since he’d died in front of him.
He looked well, remarkably well considering he’d been dead two weeks prior. He smiled at Spock, just a little quirk of the lips. “You saved my life,” he said, and Spock couldn’t bear to look away from him. Not even for a moment.
“Uhura and I had something to do with it too, y’know,” McCoy quipped from Kirk’s other side, and the captain quirked a brow at him but kept his eyes on Spock.
“You saved my life, captain, and the lives of-” Spock would’ve gone on, would’ve regaled Kirk with his own wonderful deeds, but the man cut him off.
“Spock, just…” Jim paused, searching. “Thank you.”
Those were not the words that Spock expected from his captain, and so, like his father, he took a moment to blink and be surprised. Jim did not look away from him, earnestly staring, and Spock thought he might break in that moment. James Tiberius Kirk lived. And all he could think was that he would save his life any time. He would do exactly as he had done, over and over and over again, just to save this one man’s life. No matter the risk, Spock would do it. And he understood what Jim had done for him, pulling him out of the volcano. No matter the risk, Kirk would save his life, too. Not just Spock, which should not have made the Vulcan as… affected, as it did. No, James Kirk would risk his life for any of his crew. Hell, anyone who wasn’t overtly a horrible being. Spock was not special in that regard, and it hurt, but nothing eclipsed his relief at seeing the man alive, hearing his voice again.
“You are welcome, Jim,” he said, staring at his captain for what felt like years. Kirk stared right back, searching for something in his face. McCoy stood and backed away from his patient, shooting Spock a harsh look that the Vulcan couldn’t decipher in his present state.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I have to look at your bloodwork,” he said, addressing Jim but looking to Spock, something meaningful in his gaze. Spock nodded once, eyes never leaving Jim.
The captain breathed a heavy sigh when his doctor left them, breaking eye-contact and settling into his pillows. Spock stepped closer, unsure whether or not he should sit by the man’s side or if such a thing would be too personal for him to engage in with his captain. So he hovered.
“You can sit, Spock. I’m not going to break.” But Spock was. Spock felt like the fabric of a drum, stretched tight and ready to break if the correct pressure was applied. He sat gingerly by Jim’s side, and the man looked at him with that silly little smirk again. The knot in Spock’s chest tightened yet again.
“Are you well, captain?” He asked, then chided himself for the stupid question. Jim huffed a laugh.
“As well as can be, I think.” He paused; the smile dropped off of his face. “I dreamed of Pike, I think.”
Guilt ripped through Spock’s chest and he looked away from Kirk. “I’m sorry that I could not do more for him.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me for at least another week or so,” Jim laughed outright that time, and Spock was once again caught by surprise. The sound warmed him. “You saved my life, Spock. You saved my life. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for every single time I’ve ever annoyed you.”
“It would take longer than a week of constant apology to make up for every time, captain,” Spock shot back at him, pleased by their easy banter. Jim clutched at his chest, laughing once more.
“You wound me, Mister Spock!” he crowed, and suddenly, he choked on air, sputtering only for a moment, but Spock couldn’t breathe. He was back on the Enterprise, listening to James’s final, labored breaths as the man died in front of him, scared and alone, and tears dripped from the Vulcan’s eyes before he could stop them. Kirk stopped laughing. “Spock? Are you… what? You’re crying? Is it something I said?”
Spock knew it was not an appropriate thing to do. He knew very well that it was an illogical, horrible, awful thing to do. But he took Jim’s hand in his anyway, and poured all of his feelings, all of his memories of watching Jim die, his best friend and his heart’s dearest, into his friend’s head.
Jim froze, staring at Spock open-mouthed before tears started to drip down his cheeks as well. Spock hastily pulled away, thoroughly ashamed at his actions. Neither spoke for a long moment, recovering from Spock’s vivid memories and emotions. Jim, still blinking through tears, reached for and took Spock’s hand in his own again. Spock did not invade his mind again.
“Spock,” his captain choked out, and Spock leaned down and kissed him.
It was a chaste thing, an illogical thing, and Spock’s heart still beat as though it would give out at any second, but it was beautiful. Spock had never felt more right in all of his years.
When he pulled away, Kirk was smiling again, sadness-tinged as it was.
“I’m sorry, Spock. I’m sorry.” Spock could only shake his head.
“You did the right thing, captain. But it was… difficult. For me. I had not realized… I wasn’t aware at the time of how important you were to me. Are. You are important to me, Jim.” Spock felt ridiculous, stumbling through some kind of confession without fully understanding how he himself felt for his captain. But his heart skipped yet another beat when Jim tugged Spock’s hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. He rested his cheek there, letting Spock cradle his head in his hand. Spock knew that this was desirable to him. He remembered his father’s words. Jim’s presence felt correct, too.
“I know. I knew, I guess. I can’t tell you how relieved I felt that you were there with me when… It felt better. I didn’t feel alone.” His words were quiet and his eyes unfocused. Spock caressed the man’s cheekbone with his thumb, drawing a little smile from the man.
“I did save your life because you are my friend,” Jim started, shifting his focus back to Spock,” but to say that is to dismiss all that you are to me. You are someone for me to compete against, for me to strive for excellence on your behalf and in an attempt to surpass you. You are someone who keeps me calm in a storm, who balances me when I can’t be logical enough to see the path. You annoy me and bring me joy in equal measure. Spock, I don’t really know what it means to love someone, but you come the closest of anyone I’ve ever met.”
Spock couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so instead, he leaned in and kissed his captain again, propping himself up with one hand while the other shifted to the back of Kirk’s neck. The blond man made a soft, desperate sound in the back of his throat, and Spock pulled away.
“I asked my father what it felt like to love a human,” Spock admitted. Jim quirked an eyebrow, smiling at Spock in a way that Spock knew by now meant that he was being teased.
“Yeah? What’s the verdict?”
“I love you.” Spock didn’t exactly mean to say it so directly, and Jim wore his shock more openly than Sarek. His pale face flushed, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before dragging Spock back in close to him, close enough to kiss. And he did, gladly.
Doctor McCoy returned a full thirty minutes after, but both patient and visitor slept. The bed was really far too small for two grown adults, but McCoy figured they were probably so tangled together that it was as if they were one person. A fond smile graced the doctor’s lips, and he quietly turned off the lights and left the room, door closed behind him. He had seen Spock after Kirk was gone, and to see the improvement was uplifting. That being said, Bones did not want to watch his captain and first officer canoodle, so he figured he could give them some time to be alone together as Jim recovered. With that decided, Bones left them alone and went to spend some time relaxing on his own. After all, he’d been working hard to save Jim’s life, too. Even if Spock got all the credit and adoration, Bones planned on passing the fuck out in the next available bed after all the work he’d been doing. Besides, Kirk would be safe in Spock’s arms, that much was certain.