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“...you are as thorough as the reports suggest, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said to his future First Officer, voice filled with equal amusement and admiration. He rested back in his chair, posture casual, but not necessarily relaxed. He sat in the way an individual who had been present for many interrogative meetings sat- as to not demonstrate weakness of any kind, “I’d been prepared to spend the next forty eight hours working on this preliminary duty roster, but you’ve nearly completed it already.”
Spock raised his eyebrows, moreso in acknowledgement of the praise than surprise, “The Enterprise is among the most advanced exploratory vessels in Starfleet. I had presumed that you would be engaged in other preparatory activities, and took this upon myself. It is not something that merits commendation in such a way.”
In only a matter of days, the pair would embark on a five year mission aboard the U.S.S Enterprise as Captain and First Officer, charting areas of space that no Starfleet officer had seen in years, or in many cases, ever. The usual procedure was for a Captain to meet his First Officer onboard, but Kirk had reached out to Spock to request a meeting before that time, which is how they found themselves in Kirk’s quarters on Starbase 6. The accommodations were far from meager, but they were distinctly temporary . There was little in the way of personal effects on display, leaving Spock’s only insight into Kirk’s character the man’s behavior in front of him.
“Really, now?” smiling, a broad and open expression, Kirk leaned forward again, crossing his arms over themselves on the table. Spock had limited experience in this area, but if he had to make a reasonable guess, he was being appraised.
Not for his skill as an officer, but his physical features.
Kirk spoke again after his gazing was complete, voice abruptly professional once more. Spock simply chose to file this knowledge away for later examination, finding no use for it at the moment, “I would say otherwise. You are very considerate, in fact. I find little to argue about regarding your choices, our evaluations of the crewman have led us to many of the same conclusions.”
“You went through the profiles of each officer aboard?”
Of course, Spock was not impressed with this decision, it was merely an unexpected action for the human to take. His findings led him to believe that most captains considered themselves to be unconcerned with such minutiae.
“Yes, their psychological profiles and records of service, or academy records for those freshly graduated. Would have gone through cultural backgrounds as well, but I had lost enough sleep at that point,” he punctuated the phrase by rubbing at his eyes, “But when you’re the youngest Captain ever appointed to his very own ship, there are expectations on your shoulders.”
It might have been the fact that it had been a long while since he was engaged in such informal conversation, but Spock could not help but recall words his father had said to him long ago. About the expectations set for him at birth, the logical endpoint of his genetic makeup.
And, he would deny, memories of rebelling against those expectations, choosing the path he found academically and spiritually fulfilling.
“That is commendable, Captain,” were the words he finally chose. Appropriate praise for actions he found worthy of them. He was of Vulcan, so it took no effort on his part to subdue any admiration that might be found in his tone. His study of human behavior (necessary if he were to live among them) saw a look in Kirk’s eye that suggested otherwise, but humans typically reached the wrong conclusion before the correct one.
“Mr. Spock,” Kirk smiled again, something he seemingly did often, “Pardon me, but might I say something entirely unrelated to the topic at hand?”
“I see little harm in it.”
There were very few men he might say that towards.
Voice hinting at a smug understanding of that fact, Kirk began, “Much appreciated. We have nearly a week until we embark, so I thought I might suggest that you don’t have to call me ‘Captain’ quite yet. ‘Jim’ would serve us just fine, I think.”
Spock’s posture stiffened, “Why is that? It is your rank.”
“Must we go by ranks all the time? There is more to a person than whatever title they have earned,” Kirk said earnestly, sweeping a hand in a gesture referring to the universe as a whole, not just the room. His congeniality easily turned to determination, it seemed, “If we are to be in such close proximity for so long, we should be able to use my first name, I think.”
There was a word choice there that made Spock pause, uttering frankly, “You have made no mention of my name.”
For the first time since they were introduced, the man looked bashful, “To tell you the truth, I searched your name up and am incapable of pronouncing it. I plan to be able to one day, but I won’t insult you by trying and failing badly at the moment. I can’t imagine that it would be pleasing to hear your name butchered.”
That was not unusual, nor offensive to him. Vulcan and all its dialects developed much differently than the languages of Earth. However, what was different was Kirk's stated reasoning.
He chose not to attempt it for Spock’s sake, not his own. Captain Pike had his respect, as did his other crewmates, but this was a level of consideration he hadn’t come to expect from them until weeks into their acquaintance, being demonstrated by a functional stranger.
It was only logical and fair that he took his request seriously as well.
“I see no logical reason for me to object,” he was met with an overly expectant expression from-
“Jim.”
The look he received made Spock reconsider his decision to ignore Kirk’s open attraction to him earlier, because it was a feeling now reciprocated.•