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“Spock, more brandy?” Jim raised the decanter invitingly.
Spock raised an eyebrow, which Jim took as a silent, pointed reminder of Vulcans’ immunity to the effects of alcohol. However, Spock deigned to take another sip from his still mostly full glass and Jim counted it as a success.
Jim sipped at his own glass, much less full. He felt a light carefree weightlessness that told him it was already on its way to his head, and he only just had the presence of mind to be grateful that Spock was still entirely sober just in case.
They were ensconced in the captain’s quarters that evening, seated around Jim’s desk, their knees just barely touching beneath the table. The lights were at a comfortable fifty percent, and Spock’s intently incisive gaze made up the rest of the atmosphere.
Jim smiled back at Spock, turning his glass between his fingers. “You’re quite the ladies’ man, Mr. Spock.”
That earned him another pointedly raised eyebrow. “The description could perhaps aptly be applied to yourself, however I do not see how it applies in my instance.”
“You do yourself a disservice.” Jim leaned in toward Spock, his head propped up in his hands. “You must have noticed how Nurse Chapel looks at you.”
“I have observed,” Spock’s tone was almost dour, but uncertainty lingered in his expression, “though she is no more direct in her feelings than yourself.”
Jim smiled. “You have made your point, Mr. Spock.”
When he did not continue, Spock asked, “Jim, do you have some aim in bringing Nurse Chapel’s feelings to my attention?”
Jim shrugged. “She’s made her interest clear, why not oblige and show the lady a good time?”
“You are aware that though I may be somewhat susceptible to human emotion, I am not versed in your customs.”
“You seem to do perfectly well to me.”
“You are most kind, Jim.” Spock’s gratitude was sincere, but Jim did not miss the doubt that lingered in the creases around his eyes and at the corners of his lips.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you sweep them off their feet.”
Another skeptical quirk of the eyebrow.
“You won’t know until you try.” Jim held out a hand to Spock; a deceptively casual gesture that was really a silent invitation.
Spock made no move to accept, though despite his efforts he did not appear unmoved. “My regard for you is too great to risk our friendship.”
“See, you’re already off to a fine start.”
“Jim, I do not take this lightly.”
“Nor do I.” Jim met Spock’s gaze, no less stubborn. “I find you to be quite the romantic.”
Spock inclined his head, though his tone was not lacking in irony. “I bow to your expertise upon the matter.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Spock.”
“It is merely logical to speak the truth.” Spock’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper, “Jim, you have surely observed that I look upon you with no less feeling.”
“I’m in your hands.” Jim draped an arm across the back of Spock’s chair and leaned in almost to meet him, but not quite.
Tentatively, Spock raised a hand toward Jim’s face. It shook slightly as he gently brushed his first two fingers along Jim’s cheek in a light caress.
Before Spock had the chance to pull away entirely, Jim caught Spock’s smooth, warm hand in his own, and pressed his lips to Spock’s knuckles.
“You know that I cannot fulfill all of your human needs,” Spock cautioned.
Jim did not relinquish Spock’s hand. “I don’t need anything. This is all extra.” He ran his thumb along Spock’s fingers.
“Jim…”
Spock liberated his hand and raised it again to Jim’s face; this time his fingers splayed out as though for a meld, their tips lightly grazing Jim’s temple and down the side of his face. Watching Jim’s eyes for the slightest indication all the while, he cautiously leaned forward until their lips brushed softly. Jim’s arm moved to wrap around Spock’s waist, a hand at the small of his back, and he drew closer, so that their lips gently pressed together.