Archive of Our Own

USS Enterprise, June 2266  

This entire awkward situation, Kirk reflected bitterly, was completely and utterly the fault of Leonard McCoy.  

McCoy, of course, would argue (with some justification, a traitorous inner voice supplied) that the situation was the fault of Kirk himself. He’d completely failed to seek assistance when the ongoing stress of command led to increasing tension in his muscles, resulting in intermittent aching spasms, which led, after one inevitably long session in the command chair, to a nearly crippling pain in his lower back. He’d have reprimanded any officer allowing a lack of self-care to interfere with performance of his duties in such a way.  

But he was the captain, so reprimand had come in the form of a summons to McCoy’s office to find out what the hell he was playing at - asking for pain relief on the bridge without summoning his CMO, part of whose job, lest Kirk be allowed to forget for one nanosecond, was to ensure the health of the captain. A fact that Kirk was reminded of repeatedly and at length during the ensuing conversation.  

Fortunately McCoy’s ire descended quickly into amusement at his captain's expense. 

“You asked a yeoman? For a massage? On the bridge?” 

Hearing McCoy say it like that sounded… not good. Kirk squirmed slightly in his seat.  

“I didn’t ask for anything. I was experiencing some minor discomfort –“ 

“And at what point was it going to occur to you to speak to me about this minor discomfort? Or any of the medically qualified personnel on this ship?”  

“It wasn’t necessary to disturb –“ 

“Oh, it wasn’t necessary to disturb me, but asking a yeoman –“ 

“I didn’t ask anyone, but I felt someone - I thought Spock was trying to help, so I asked him to, you know, press a little harder.”  

McCoy stared at him. “Oh well. That’s fine then. Asking your first officer –“ 

“How many times? I didn’t ask –“ 

“Which just makes it worse, because you were in such obvious discomfort that someone volunteered.”  

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kirk interrupted reluctantly, “it was the single most embarrassing moment I’ve ever experienced on that bridge.”  

McCoy grinned. “Serves you right. Come to me next time.”  

“Yes, alright. I’m here now. I’m holding a lot of tension in my back, apparently. What are you going to do about it, Doctor?”  

McCoy smiled so genially that Kirk had the horrible feeling he’d just blundered into some kind of unseen ambush.  

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I’ve given you exercises in the past, and you’ve haven’t bothered to do them –“ 

“I’m a busy man,” Kirk muttered defensively.  

McCoy continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “So I’m not doing that again. Has to be something you commit to, ideally with another person, so you actually have to turn up –“ 

“I spend enough time in sickbay-“ Kirk began. 

“Because you throw yourself in harm’s way with unnecessary abandon, but I wasn’t thinking of me. I was actually thinking you had the right idea on the bridge. Wrong place and time, obviously but –“  

“I am not,” Kirk said hotly, “asking Yeoman Barrows.” 

McCoy waved his hand. “Not Tonia. You think I’m going to make it that easy? Fat chance. Not Tonia. Spock.”  

Kirk blinked. His mouth worked for a moment, but no sound came out. 

Encouraged by the lack of response, McCoy said, “You know he’s qualified in Vulcan muscular relief and  neuropressure techniques.” 

“Yes, it’s on his record.” Kirk said briskly. And I try very hard not to think about it. Ever. “But I don’t see what-” 

“It’s massage by any other name, essentially.” McCoy launched into a description of the minor differences between Vulcan and Human massage techniques, but Kirk wasn’t listening. His brain had momentarily shorted on the notion of Spock. Giving him a massage. 

That moment on the bridge had been pure instinct – just a way to get instant relief from pain. The fact that latent embarrassment over the entire incident – Dig it in there, Mister Spock – occasionally kept him from sleeping was not something that McCoy needed to know.  

He interrupted McCoy’s flow of words.  

“Absolutely not.” 

McCoy stared. “Why not? He’s happy to do it.”  

“You asked him?” 

“Of course. I’m hardly likely to speak to you about it without his agreement. He takes his job very seriously.” 

“This isn’t part of his job!” 

“Spock would beg to differ. Apparently, ensuring the captain’s wellbeing is very much in his bailiwick.”  

“Not massaging the captain!” 

“Well, you’ll have to take it up with him, because he’s expecting you this evening.” 

Now it was Kirk’s turn to stare. “ What ?' 

“Apparently, he’s got a programme all planned.” 

“He’s – planned? Bones, I can’t ask Spock to –“ 

“You didn’t ask him. I did. And it didn’t exactly take much persuasion. I’d barely floated the idea before he was leaping at it. You’d almost have thought he was waiting for me to suggest it. I actually wondered if that was why he mentioned the incident on the bridge in the first place.” 

“Look –“ Kirk began. And broke off. He didn’t know what to say next. There had to be many excellent reasons why the first officer massaging the captain was a bad idea. But the one his mind had fixed on was, well, Spock. And the attractiveness of Spock. The attractiveness of Spock that he never allowed himself to acknowledge or consciously appreciate. A level of mental discipline that would be sorely tried by the level of physical intimacy that McCoy was suggesting.  

His CMO was watching him with a wry expression that suggested he was aware of every thought that had just gone through his captain's mind. McCoy said mildly, “Of course, if you don’t trust Vulcan neuropressure techniques, I can just tell him you said no –“ 

“Hold on a second, I didn’t say that.”  

“So, it’s Spock you don’t trust?” 

“Of course not, don’t put words into my mouth.” 

"Well, if Spock’s happy to do it, then what,” McCoy enquired innocently, “is the problem?” 

Kirk opened his mouth and closed it again. He had wanted Spock’s touch, even on the bridge. He’d known instinctively that Spock’s careful strength would ease his pain. He trusted Spock implicitly. The problem wasn’t with Spock. The problem was with the part of James Kirk that wanted this to happen. Wanted this to happen quite desperately, in fact, now that the suggestion had been made. The problem would be hiding that part of himself from Spock so entirely that its existence wasn’t even suspected. He couldn’t imagine that level of subterfuge being relaxing at all . Which kind of negated the point of the exercise.  

But he could hardly say any of this to McCoy, who was watching him with a half-smile that definitely suggested he thought Kirk would refuse, and knew damn well why.  

Kirk stuck out his chin and met his friend’s gaze unblinking. “Well, since we’re putting my first officer through such trouble, this had better be effective, Doctor.” 

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but stubbornly refused to call them back. He couldn’t tell McCoy the truth behind his objection, couldn’t tell him the longing that the shore leave planet had brought into living, breathing existence, and the aching temptation it had put his way, one that even now, his mind refused to forget.  

* 

One week earlier, shore leave planet (Beta Omicron Delta III)   

Ruth broke their gentle kiss with a smile, and drew back.  

“Time for me to go.” 

Kirk blinked at her, confused. Everything had been going so well. “What? Where to?” He’d been under the impression that these artificial created fantasies of the planet simply acted in line with the thoughts of the person who had summoned them. And he certainly didn’t want her to go. Not yet, anyway. “Are you coming back?”  

She smiled again, peaceful and enigmatic. “Of course, if you wish it.” 

“I don’t want you to go.” 

She blinked in mild surprise. “But you do. The muscles of your lower back are aching and you desire relief. Aid will be provided.”  

She stepped away and he reached for her hand. “If that’s so –“ he hadn’t been conscious of the thought, but now that she mentioned it, it did seem like a good idea “– can’t you help me?” He gave her his best appealing smile.  

She smiled back, said cheerfully, “But it is not my assistance you desire.” And with that, she turned and walked away.  

Kirk stated at her retreating back with a frown. He was starting to seriously doubt the efficacy of this illusion creation system’s mind reading skills. It seemed to be getting some fairly fundamental stuff wrong.  

He turned, and almost jumped. Behind him, a massage table had appeared, laden with warm towels. He was regarding it with suspicion when a voice to his right said, “Good evening, Captain.”  

He turned to see the form of his first officer stepping down the slight slope towards him. He smiled. “Hey, Spock, I didn’t know you were coming down.”  

The Vulcan was out of uniform, and wearing some kind of casual robe, contriving to look somehow professional and relaxed at the same time. “I came at your request.”  

Kirk blinked. “Well, I wanted you to rest, but it wasn’t an order.” He grinned. “You really are welcome to stay on the ship if you’d prefer.” 

“I could hardly remain on the ship whilst you are in need of my assistance.” His first officer gestured to the table behind him.  

Kirk looked at it, then back to Spock in confusion. “You’re here to -” His expression darkened. “Hold on, did McCoy put you up to this? I told him I’d take leave, what more does he -” He stopped, and stared at his first officer for a long moment.  

Spock, who had moved towards the table, became aware of his scrutiny, and stopped. “Jim?” 

Kirk began to move, a slow circle around his second, watching him closely. He said, “This planet. Shows you things you want. Creates scenarios to gratify you in some way. Things you might not even be consciously aware of wanting.” 

“That is so.” 

“And here you are.” 

“I do not see the connection.” 

“You’re not Spock.” 

Spock stared back at him, and blinked in curiosity. “You are suggesting that I am not, in fact, myself. That I am an illusion of this planet created by your mind. For what purpose?”  

“You said it yourself.” Kirk pointed to the massage table. “Ruth and I were talking. She was asking me about the ship. About the captaincy. She asked if it was stressful. If I was ever – lonely. I thought of you. And that moment on the bridge with Yeoman Barrows -” He broke off. “Then suddenly Ruth up and leaves, and here you are. Coincidence? On this planet? I don’t think so.” He raised his voice. “So, nice try, but no thank you. If I want to talk to Spock, I’ll go back to the ship and speak to the real thing.” 

Spock was watching him with curiosity, his head slightly on one side.  

Kirk eyed him right back.  He’s a really good copy.   

Spock said, slowly, “If what you say is true -” 

“It is.” 

“Then it is most strange. I have no memories of being – a creation of this planet. I simply became aware that you required my presence. And I came.” 

“Well, thank you. But you can go.” Kirk cleared his throat. When Spock showed no sign of moving, he added, slightly self-consciously, “Dismissed.” 

Spock raised an eyebrow at him.  

Kirk sighed. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Be… him. It’s disconcerting.” 

“Jim, I cannot be other than I am.” 

“Right. I’ll go then. Nice to meet you.” He began to walk back towards the direction of the place he’d met Ruth.  

“Your behaviour is most illogical.” 

Kirk stopped. Took a breath. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why? On this specific occasion, I mean.” 

“You summoned me here. You desire my presence. And yet, you are leaving.” 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“Why?” 

“Because -” he sighed “- there are some things I shouldn’t look too closely at. And this is one of them.” 

“Your need for stress relief?” 

Kirk huffed a laugh. “I don’t need to look at that. I have Bones hanging over me every day, nagging me about it. My stress levels are fine, thank you.” 

Spock merely regarded him evenly.  

“I’ll talk to Bones when I get back to the ship, okay? And now, if you’ll excuse me...” He made to leave again.  

“Then it is me.” 

“What is you?” 

“The thing at which you should not look too closely.” 

“We are not having this conversation.” 

“And yet I am here. So, a part of you wishes it.” 

“I really don’t.” 

“You are incorrect.”  

Kirk turned on his first officer. “Look, just – go away. Leave.” He sharpened his tone. “That’s an order. I don’t want you here. You’re not Spock. You’re nothing to me. Just leave.” He addressed the sky with a near-shout. “You hear me? I don’t want this .” 

When he looked back, Spock’s expression changed quickly. But not quickly enough.  

As the other man turned away, Kirk swallowed. As Spock reached the edge of the beach, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You are close enough to being him to have earned the respect I owe him. And that wasn’t it. I’m sorry.” 

Slowly, Spock turned back. 

Kirk said, “I’ll go. Clearly I don’t deal well with illusions created by my own mind. I should go back to the ship.” 

There was silence.  

Kirk nodded, and began to move past his first officer. As he reached him, Spock said quietly, “Grant me one request before you leave.” 

Kirk stopped, sighed. “I feel like I can hardly refuse now.” 

“Allow me to kiss you.” 

Kirk gaped at him, only inches away across the warm sand. “I - what ?” 

“Before you leave me... allow me to kiss you.”  

Kirk stared at him in disbelief . What the hell is wrong with me?   

Why had his subconscious created a version of Spock designed specifically to torture him? “Spock –” 

“You say I am unreal. And I trust you implicitly, so it must be true. And if so, your actions are correct. But I also feel. If I am created, as you assert, it can only have been to love you. Please, allow me to do so, however briefly.”  

“Spock – “ 

“Please, Jim.”  

Kirk took a long breath, staring at the man before him. Then, slowly, he nodded.  

Spock closed the gap between them, raised a hand to Jim’s face. He caressed his cheek, lithe fingers gentle against his skin. He moved his hand reverently towards Jim’s temple, the path of his touch leaving tingles against Kirk’s warming skin.  

As Spock’s palm reached his cheek, Jim caught that scent he loved: a warm musk that made him think of heat and desert and destiny. Without conscious thought he turned his face to Spock’s palm and pressed his lips gently to the smooth skin he found there.  

Spock’s intake of breath was audible, and Jim felt arousal spike through him. It pierced the veil of desire that had begun to smother his conscience. He took a breath. “Spock. No. We can’t. I’m sorry.” He took a step back. “You – the real you – he's my friend. And he wouldn’t want this. I can’t betray him like that. I need to be able to look him in the eyes when I get back to the ship. I’m - I’m sorry.” 

Spock stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Very well. Then: goodbye, Jim.” 

He clamped down on the need to step forward, to comfort. “Goodbye, Spock.”  

He watched his first officer until he was out of sight.  

* 

USS Enterprise, Orbit of Beta Omicron Delta III (Shore Leave Planet), June 2266, same day  

Uhura had come to stand next to the command chair, and was watching the peaceful planet rotate below them, apparently lost in thought. Spock had concluded that this was indicative of a human desire to begin a conversation. Clearly not in relation to the business of the ship, as she had not addressed him immediately, but out of the desire to engage in ‘small talk’. Given the currently relative inactivity aboard, in this quiet area of space, with most of their crew planetside, it was a human eccentricity Spock was prepared to indulge on this occasion.  

When she didn’t speak for a moment longer, he said, “I am surprised that you are not taking advantage of the opportunity provided to take shore leave, Lieutenant.” 

Uhura blinked. “Hmm? Oh. I’m going down later. Well, Chris and I are going down together.” She smiled a little shyly at him, and Spock wondered, not for the first time, about the increasing closeness between the ship’s head of communications and its chief nurse. They appeared to have grown a great deal closer since Chapel’s decision to stay with the ship after their encounter with Roger Corby.  

He said neutrally, “That sounds appropriately beneficial to your overall health and wellbeing.” 

She laughed lightly. “I’m sure it will be. What about you, Mister Spock? You need some downtime too. I thought all the senior staff were on a rota.” 

“I have elected to remain on board ship to allow more time for the other senior staff to take leave.” 

“Oh. You aren’t going down at all?” 

“I am not.” 

“That seems a shame. I mean, the planet will show you anything you desire. Even things you didn’t know you wanted. It’s… an irresistible proposition.” 

Spock thought he had rarely heard of a proposition more resistible in his life. Perhaps humans had a level of ignorance of their own mental state that might lead to anything appearing on the planet coming as a surprise, but that absence of self-awareness was not shared by Vulcans. There were any number of people he could meet on that planet, none of whom he wished to see in any circumstances other than reality, tempered as it was by duty, society, and one’s own dignity and discipline. He had already risked a trip down to ensure Jim’s safety, and that of the away team, and witnessed Kirk’s surprise and pleasure at the planet’s manifestation of Ruth. He had no desire to witness anything similar again. Not for himself, and especially not for his captain.  

Uhura was watching him with a remarkably understanding expression, and he wondered, with a sudden shock, if any of his thoughts had been obvious. He said quickly, “I believe I shall manage to resist.” 

She smiled at him then, and there was something sympathetic in it, along with the fondness. She touched his arm lightly, “Well, be sure you rest. Anyway, I’m sure you won’t miss out entirely. Starfleet would be crazy not to make this a regular stop on the shore leave list.” 

“Starfleet Command is not always the beacon of logic one might hope.” 

She grinned at him. “You’re not wrong. But I’m hopeful on this occasion.” 

“There will have to be more infrastructure built. I cannot imagine Federation diplomats being content to camp out on the planet’s surface.”  

She laughed. “No, perhaps not. Still, I can’t wait to see what they come up with down there.” 

Spock watched the planet rotate peacefully. He said, almost absently, “I hope the captain is able to avail himself of the opportunity to relax. His tension earlier was indicative of the immediate need for shore leave.” 

Uhura glanced across at him, aware she didn’t have his full attention, and that he wouldn’t see her sympathetic, slightly frustrated smile.  

* 

One week later, USS Enterprise, First Officer’s Quarters   

In retrospect, Kirk thought, he should have unburdened himself then and there. In sickbay. Told McCoy everything that happened on Beta Omicron Delta III. But his stubborn pride and unwillingness to admit weakness had closed his mouth.  

And led him… here. 

Standing in Spock’s quarters, at twenty-one hundred hours, in casual tunic and light trousers (McCoy’s cursed voice echoing in his head: “You can’t wear your uniform, Jim, you’re meant to be relaxing”), and wishing himself to the furthest edges of the known universe.  

Not that Spock’s quarters weren’t nice. Quite the opposite. Which was what happened, Kirk supposed, when you’d spent almost your entire service life on one ship. It became home. And Spock’s quarters were homely: they were warm, well furnished with surprisingly comfortable draperies and soft furnishings, and there was a light, seductive scent in the air which seemed designed to leech the tension out of Kirk’s strung-out form. And it would have worked spectacularly well, if not for the room's other occupant.  

Spock.  

Who was also out of uniform. And, on reflection, that really shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but somehow it had, and now Kirk was having to consciously direct his gaze away from his first officer to avoid the temptation to simply stare.  

Spock was wearing casual, matching tunic and trousers, in basic form not unlike Kirk’s own, but basic form was where the similarity ended.  

If Jim Kirk had been of a poetical bent of mind, he would have said that Spock looked as if he’d been carved from the night sky. The material of his tunic was so dark blue as to be almost black, with thin lines of fine, silver Vulcan script running through it. The trousers were of the same material, but without the script. The entire outfit fitted like it had been made for the wearer, emphasising his slim build and handsome figure. It had never occurred to James Kirk that the Starfleet uniform was unflattering – Spock certainly looked fine in it – but next to this outfit, it looked like they spent their days in multi-coloured potato sacks.  

Spock looked gorgeous.  

This entire situation was clearly going to be even more of a nightmare than he had feared. Kirk forced a smile. “I'm sorry about this. I’m really fine. You know what McCoy’s like. Overreacting as usual.” 

“On the contrary, I thought this was an unusually sensible suggestion of the doctor’s, involving both a resolution of your symptoms and an opportunity for me to practice my neuropressure techniques. There is rarely an opportunity on the ship.”  

“No. No, I imagine there wouldn’t be. Well. Glad to be of assistance.” 

Spock regarded him with concern. “Captain, I acquiesced to the doctor’s request on the grounds that our professional status and long-standing friendship would nullify any awkwardness around the necessary intimacy. If I have misjudged –“ 

“What? No. Not at all. There’s nothing awkward – I was just concerned about putting you out, you know, adding to your already substantial workload with unnecessary – but if it’s useful to you, I mean, of course, it’s fine with me. Very, er, very kind of you, Mister Spock.” He stopped himself rambling with no small effort. “So. Where do you want me?” 

“As there are no therapeutic massage tables on the ship, and the doctor was reluctant to allow me to avail myself of any of the biobeds in sickbay, I have been forced to improvise.” He gestured towards his bed, which was dimly lit and covered in luxurious looking massage towels.  

Kirk gritted his teeth. “Great.” 

He moved awkwardly towards the bed, gestured to it without looking.  

“Do you want me to – “ 

“On your front, please. And you will need to remove your shirt.”  

“Yes. Right.”  

He did as instructed, safe in the knowledge that he’d never been so tense in his life.  

He heard quiet footsteps, then there was a momentary pause during which Jim was sure he could feel every molecule of air against his back.  

Then he felt it: soft, warm hands against his bare skin. Spock’s hands .   

He felt his muscles tighten even further. Assisted by some kind of warm oil, they slipped easily, gently, across his skin, tracing a careful path along either side of his spine.  

Kirk shivered. Tried to relax. Remembered to breathe. Thought about warp equations and hostile enemies. Imagined that the hands on him belonged to a stranger. Just some random masseuse on some random shore leave.  

Some of his tension began to ease. He took a deeper breath, and breathed in Vulcan incense. Above him, there was a gentle exhalation.  

Spock.  

The thought sent heat coursing through him. Every feeling he’d buried, every desire he’d ignored. He clamped down on the physical response and tension shot through him like an arrow.  

A quiet voice above him said, “Jim… you are not relaxed.” 

"No. I’m sorry.” Jim sat up quickly, perching on the edge of the bed. Spock fell back to give him room. “I don’t think this is going to work.” 

“You are uncomfortable with me massaging you.” Spock had stood, and now he fell into something that was almost parade rest. Jim suddenly felt his half nakedness acutely. He said quickly, “No, no it isn’t that. It really isn’t. You’re clearly very good at this.”  

“And yet you continue to hold a great deal of tension.”  

“That’s my fault, not yours.”  

“I do not understand.” Spock’s posture was rigid, almost defensive. “Doctor McCoy has reported that you have responded to therapeutic massage techniques in the past. If you do not object to the technique, then surely it is me to whom you object.” 

Jim stared up at him. “No, Spock, no. Absolutely not. It’s me. It’s completely me. I can’t relax.” 

“Because - I am massaging you.”  

Jim stared at the floor, the wall, the ceiling, and back to the floor. He released a long sigh. “Yes.” 

“I see.”  

He didn’t have to look up to know that Spock’s face had assumed that peculiarly rigid expression he reserved only for moments when he was suppressing an emotional reaction. “No, Spock, you really don’t.”  

“There is no need to attempt to mollify my feelings on the point, Captain, I can assure you I have none.” 

“Rubbish. Of course, you do.” 

“There is no need to add insult to your clear dislike of my touch.” 

“What? No, I didn’t mean that. Let’s just – forget this ever happened, okay? I’ll speak to Bones. Thank you for offering. I appreciate it. I’ll, er, see you on the bridge tomorrow.”  

He pulled on his shirt, and practically ran from the room. 

* 

Spock stared at the closing doors as Jim disappeared. He took a few steadying breaths. He was aware of lingering strong emotion, but actually identifying it was difficult. He was aware of hurt. Disappointment. But also relief. Relief that Jim had gone, and there was no longer a risk of exposure.  

And at least the situation was now clear. Increased physicality between them made his captain profoundly uncomfortable. Perhaps it had not been such a good idea to shield from intrusion into Jim’s mind quite so entirely: he might have picked up on Kirk’s discomfort earlier and prevented an awkward scene.  

Still: he now knew. James Kirk was actively disinterested in anything more than a friendship between them. That was a relief. It meant he could now firmly redirect and ignore such thoughts until they ceased entirely.  

Perhaps, when enough time had passed, it would no longer hurt.  

* 

Their bridge shift the next day constituted an unspoken agreement to pretend that nothing had happened.  

After his shift, Kirk took a reluctant trip to sickbay. 

His CMO stared at him across his desk. “It didn’t go well then?” 

“It was an absolutely terrible idea. You’ll have to come up with something else.”  

“Okay. Look, what exactly hap -?” 

“Just drop it, Bones, okay?”  

There was a pointed silence.  

Kirk said stiffly, “At least the crew got decent leave. That doesn’t happen often.” 

McCoy said dryly, “Yes. So, I wouldn’t worry about us visiting that planet again. Starfleet never sends us anywhere when there’s the remotest possibility of fun being had. It’s all unpleasant surprises and near-death experiences.”  

Kirk issued a reluctant huff of laughter. “It’s a mystery to me why Starfleet doesn’t get you to write their promotional material.” 

“Given the way their recruitment is falling, I couldn’t do worse.” 

Kirk blew out an irritated breath. “Sadly true. How the hell do they get selling space travel to people wrong?” 

“Not everyone’s idea of fun is years in a confined ship with only a thin metal sheet between you and instant death. You've always been odd.” 

Kirk stared. “You're here too.” 

“I’m too soft for my own good. Easily persuaded.”  

Kirk snorted. “I wish. I might get out of a few physicals.” 

“I said easily persuaded, not professionally negligent. You've got no chance. Besides, you wouldn’t want to go back there anyway. In a few years it’ll be a terrible tourist trap, full of wannabe space travellers whose idea of exploration is staying somewhere only marginally less luxurious than an ambassadorial suite.” 

* 

McCoy was ultimately persuaded of Jim’s new commitment to his stretching and strengthening exercise regimen, and life for the Enterprise’s Captain returned to what passed for normality on a starship.  

Spock was, as ever, invaluable as a first officer, and friend, and if any other thoughts crept in that were now harder to ignore, perhaps late into ship’s night when the loneliness of command felt unusually acute, then the Enterprise’s Captain reminded himself again of the price to be paid for one’s dreams, and found a way to forget the feel of warm hands against his back, and a loving expression in dark, alien eyes.  

* 

For his part, Spock was glad his momentary mental aberration with regard to giving into the temptation to touch his Captain outside of anything required by friendship or duty had passed unremarked.  

It was lucky that Jim had felt comfortable enough to express his discomfort with Spock’s touch. Otherwise, he could have been led into believing that his touch was preferred. Even… wanted. The embarrassment such a conclusion could have caused was almost incalculable.  

And if occasionally there was…something, some sign from Jim that perhaps his feelings for Spock ran deeper than the Vulcan allowed himself to believe, then the thought was easily dismissed as wishful thinking, and the feel of Jim’s warm skin beneath his hands was a thought banished to the furthest corners of a very disciplined mind, never to be considered again.  

* 

Captain’s Quarters. Two years later. 

Kirk glanced up from his padd. “Oh, that reminds me – you owe Starfleet an apology.”  

Across his desk, McCoy stared incredulously. “I doubt that very much – what for?” 

“You said they’d never send us back to the shore leave planet. Well, you were wrong.”  

“You're kidding me. They’re actually sending us somewhere pleasant?” 

“Well, that does rather depend on your definition of the term.” 

McCoy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?” 

“Because, unfortunately, your cynicism also proved accurate. The planet is now essentially one giant tourist trap, and Starfleet wants us there as window dressing to the opening of the largest resort complex. Good PR, apparently, since we were the ones who discovered it. They are trying to sell the lighter side of space travel.” Kirk’s tone turned scathing and he adopted a fake enthusiasm. “’Look, it’s not all skirmishes with Klingons and Romulans, you too could discover a planet designed for fun!’” He shook his head.  

“Still not a fan of Starfleet's PR strategy then, huh?” 

“It’s absurd. I mean, look at the place.” He threw the padd across the table to Bones. “Why sell people something that doesn’t exist? Space travel is tough. If you’re not prepared for that, don’t come out here. Yes, recruitment is down, but so what? I’d rather have two people who wanted to be here, coming into this with their eyes open, than ten who’re here for a goddamn pleasure cruise.” 

McCoy, who had been examining the padd with care, said absently, “Yes, alright, Captain Cynical.” He looked up. “When do we arrive? Because I for one am prepared to suffer in pursuit of exploring this beautifully landscaped resort with all amenities a person could want. Damn, there are ten different bars just in the one area. And apparently, they’ve improved the simulation systems. Seems you can either request the specific illusion you’d like to live, tailored exactly to your needs, or you can ‘explore the truest desires of your subconscious, with illusions only programmed to fulfil every delight or desire’. You’re right, Jim. This is awful. Sign me up for the gritty realities of space travel.”  

“The point I was making -” Kirk leaned across and snatched back the padd, “- is that it’s not always like that.”  

“It’s never like that. Which is why I will be recommending that everyone on board take advantage of Starfleet's momentary lapse in judgement. Come on Jim, even you can’t be bitter about your crew getting some much-needed R&R.”  

“I suppose.” 

“And you’ll be joining them.” 

“I will not.” 

McCoy leaned back with the air of a man who had the upper hand in this particular conversation. “Oh, I think you will. You’ll be there anyway, representing Starfleet, so you’d better believe you’ll be taking time off too.”  

Kirk scowled. “Any way I can get out of it?” 

“Nope. I am ordering you to relax.”  

Kirk looked mutinous, but said nothing, just sipped his drink in resentful silence. 

* 

USS Enterprise, system of Beta Omicron Delta III  

Their destination grew gradually larger on the viewscreen. What had started as an almost invisible speck against a dark, star strewn background was now clearly a planet, floating peacefully in the vastness of its own solar system.  

Kirk stared at it with a sour expression, then caught himself, and switched to a more professionally neutral façade.  

He was well aware that his attitude towards their destination over the last few days was pretty close to earning him the designation of The Grinch That Stole Shore Leave, and he sighed mentally to himself. Crew morale was every bit as important as the more obvious aspects of his job, and the suppressed excitement on the bridge was almost painful. He had the distinct impression that, with the obvious exception of Spock, everyone on the bridge was just trying to look busy, as opposed to actually being busy. Certainly, with the ship on pre-programmed orbital approach at impulse speed, it wasn’t like anyone on the bridge had a great deal of urgent work.   

The soft voices of two people trying not to be heard drifted quietly from the engineering station. Kirk heard the words ‘bar’ and ‘leave’ quite distinctly. He glanced over to where his CMO and chief engineer were lost in deep conversation.  

He looked back at the viewscreen in displeasure, then mentally shook himself, braced internally, and said aloud, “Is everyone looking forward to our arrival? Anyone got plans for shore leave?”  

The crew all looked around, at him, then each other, then back at him. Kirk made himself smile. As one, the crew seemed to decide permission had been given to relax the strict bridge atmosphere, and answering smiles appeared.  

Uhura’s voice said happily, “I’ve heard the spa is superb. I’ll be there for at least two days.” 

The Scots brogue from the engineering section said, “That sounds lovely, lass, but did you know that there are no fewer than seven bars in the main resort?” 

“And apparently they all specialise in different drinks from different planets.” This from McCoy. 

The Enterprise’s helmsman turned, and Sulu said in amusement, “You know you don’t have to visit them all in one day?” 

“I’ll have you know I’m a responsible drinker, young man.”  

“History would dispute that assertion, Doctor.” This came smoothly from Kirk’s right, and the Captain’s forced smile, which had begun to fade, took on a more genuine tinge. 

Before McCoy could respond, Scott said, “There’s even a bar specialising in Vulcan beverages, Mister Spock. Are you sure we can’t tempt you?” 

“Hot chocolate galore.” McCoy added with a grin.  

“That is not a traditional Vulcan beverage.” 

“It damn well should be. You could use a bit of loosening up – “ 

“Any plans for you, Mister Chekov?” Kirk talked over the bickering before it could really start.  

The Enterprise’s navigator turned with boyish enthusiasm. “Given zat I wasn’t here last time, I am looking forward to experiencing ze illusion creation system.” 

McCoy laughed, stepped down towards the command chair. “I bet you are. And you’ll be glad to hear that there are safeguards on it now. Not even pretend deaths this time.” 

Uhura had stepped down to Kirk’s left. “Now they’ve had such an increase in visitor numbers, it’s person defined too. Your illusions don’t extend more than a set distance around you.” 

Kirk said, “So if someone has an illusory army of Romulans and someone else has an illusory army of Klingons, there won’t be a war?”  

“In that unlikely event, sir, yes.” Uhura laughed, as McCoy frowned, “Jim, you have some very strange ideas about time off.”  

“Other than that,” Uhura added, “the system is the same.”  

“I heard there’s a conscious override now.” Sulu put in. “You programme the system with a specific stop command and if anything gets out of hand, you just say it, and the whole thing ends.” 

McCoy said dryly, “I wish they’d had that last time.”  

“Yes, I think an off switch is a very good idea.” Kirk’s agreement was quick.  

Spock said mildly, “Such a thing would not be necessary for Vulcans. We are in control of our mental landscape.” 

“That must be dull,” McCoy muttered.  

“Only if, in this scenario, you associate dullness with the removal of the - I believe the human term is – safe word.”  

Kirk coughed spasmodically around a suddenly dry throat.  

On his left, McCoy stared, in mildly horrified disbelief. “What the hell do you know about safe words?” 

“I am familiar with many human customs, doctor, as you are well aware.” 

There was distinct, suppressed, laughter from Uhura.  

McCoy said dryly, “Well, I’m sure that’s more than we all needed to know about Vulcan culture in one day. Everyone steer clear of Spock down there.” 

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Doctor, but I am remaining in command of the Enterprise on this occasion.”  

“I’d normally object to you avoiding rest, but given recent revelations, that’s probably a good thing.” Even without looking Kirk could hear McCoy’s smile.  

“What about you, sir?” Uhura’s voice behind him was kind. “Any shore leave plans?” 

Kirk shifted in his seat. “Unfortunately not. I’ve a number of official functions to attend and then it will be back to the ship for me.”  

“You won’t be trying the creation system?” Chekov’s voice was openly shocked.  

“No thank you, Mister Chekov. I had my fun last time. Fortunately, as well as a safe word,” he studiously didn’t look at Spock, “the system now also comes with an off switch. And it will most definitely be off in my vicinity.” 

“Oh, that seems a shame.” This came from Uhura.  

“I prefer my shore leave companions to be real.” 

“Most sensible, Captain.” Kirk felt the familiar warmth of Spock’s approval. 

“Thank you, Mister Spock.” 

McCoy coughed around a noise that sounded like ‘boring’.  

“Not all of us need advanced technological assistance for amusement, Doctor. Some of us are intelligent enough to entertain ourselves.”  

Kirk snorted quietly as laughter broke out in the face of McCoy’s glare.  

* 

USS Enterprise, Orbit of Beta Omicron Delta III, one day later  

“Two years almost to the day. I can’t wait to see what they’ve done with it. It’s meant to be fabulous.”  Uhura stepped next to the command chair, and Spock glanced across at her.  She caught his eye and smiled. “Chris and I will be beaming down soon.” 

To the surprise of no-one, the friendship between Nyota Uhura and Christine Chapel had become a romance, which had slipped, without comment or concern, into the accepted daily minutiae of starship life, a situation which Spock refused to envy.  

Uhura continued, “Are you sure we can’t persuade you to accompany us? Apparently, the main resort is beautiful. And there’s that incredible spa.” 

“I believe I shall decline on this occasion, Lieutenant, but thank you for the kind offer.” 

She lowered her voice, to be certain none of the other skeleton crew on the bridge could hear. “You can turn the illusion generation system off in your vicinity. There’s no need to see anything you don’t want to.”  

He glanced at her sharply, but there was only sympathy and understanding in her gaze, and no indication of any suggestion as to who she thought he might see.  

He said neutrally, “There is a great deal of work to be done on the ship.” 

She raised an eyebrow; a move he wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t copied from him. “The captain is beaming down.” 

“The captain is required to attend a number of functions on the planet.” 

“Well, yes, but he’s staying there for a night too. I’m sure he’d love some company.”  

“Doctor McCoy is also beaming down.”  

“Ye-es.” Uhura’s voice was doubtful. “But I did hear him and Scotty planning a pub crawl and I don’t think the captain is planning to be involved in that.” 

Spock said, and his voice was a little sharp, “I’m sure if the captain requires company, he will be able to find it, particularly in such a place.”  

Uhura gave an audible sigh. “If you say so, Mister Spock.”  

To Spock’s ears, she sounded disappointed, although he couldn’t imagine why.  

* 

Shore leave planet, late evening, opening gala  

“Captain Kirk!” 

Kirk winched internally, whilst arranging his face into his brightest, falsest smile.  

“Elizabeth. Again. What a pleasure.” 

The self-proclaimed ‘alpha quadrants finest journalist’ smiled back. “Likewise, Captain. Thank you again for the interview yesterday.” 

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” And Nogura insisted that I be the friendly, smiling face of the fleet, or you wouldn’t have been able to find me with the finest sensor array in existence.   

“Are your crew having a good time?”  

“They are.”  

She drew a little closer. “I must say, they are disappointingly well behaved. I was honestly hoping for a little indiscretion. Perhaps some minor drunken revelry. I have to have something to write about. Some little piece of gossip? A very minor scandal? Just something to spice up my article.” She gave him a look of pleading hopelessness, and batted her eyes, a move so entirely, openly calculated that against his will, Kirk was forced to smile.  

“Is the opening of the biggest resort in the known galaxy not interesting enough for you?” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Interesting enough for you, is it, Captain?”  

He acknowledged her point with a tilt of his head. “I’m glad my crew are getting a break. They deserve it.”  

“And what about you? Are you getting a break?” There was something new in her tone, a sincere interest, artfulness entirely fallen away, and Kirk had to fight the instinct to reply in kind. It occurred to him, for the first time, that her reputation might rest on a little more than a sensational writing style and a few exclusives. She had a rare ability to disarm.  

He said, carefully, “Briefly. Starfleet is insisting I stay one night, but I’ll be back on the ship tomorrow.” 

“And what will you be doing with your one night?” 

It was unmistakable now. He was being flirted with. He entertained, for a moment, the idea of flirting back, of seeing where the night went, but he couldn’t summon up any enthusiasm for the idea. Something in him simply rebelled at the thought of company.  

“I’m spoken for. A prior engagement.” 

“Ah. Anyone I might know?” Mild disappointment had given way to the professional’s curiosity with notable speed.  

“No. Just work, I’m afraid.” 

She sighed. “Well, I guess that makes two of us. I need to find something interesting to write about this resort.” 

He huffed a laugh. “Congratulations, you made my night sound appealing.” 

She laughed in return, a pleasant, genuine sound. “I’m glad my night was good for something. Goodnight, Captain Kirk.” 

“Jim, please.”  

“Goodnight, Jim.” 

“Goodnight, Elizabeth.”  

She watched him go with interest. 

* 

Kirk walked slowly back to his assigned villa on the near side of the resort. The paths were open to the skies, and the stars above were unfamiliar, but lovely. The weather was warm, and the ground level lighting provided enough light to find one's way, without spoiling the stars, or the flickering of the pretty, artful lighting that could occasionally be glimpsed from other buildings. Faintly, he could hear laughter, and music, carried on the breeze, as if from a great distance away. He thought idly that this would, after all, be a lovely place to be part of a couple.  

I hope my crew are having a better time than their captain.   

The thought occurred that he wasn’t setting that bar especially high. All the same, he hoped that his request had been adhered to, and he would be getting no illusions, no company, no interaction with the planet’s renowned ‘life creation system' of any kind. He had taken no part in the endless speculative conversations and outlandish ideas that had taken place on their trip here. He didn’t begrudge his crew their fun, but his experiences over the last few years had left him with no desire for any escapist fantasies.  

Quietly, his mind threw up another fantasy, the one that had appeared to him the last time he was here, and he suppressed it quickly. There was little danger of any stray thoughts creating anything now: still, until he was sure his request for no interaction at all had been followed, he wasn’t taking any chances.  

Somewhere to his right there was gentle laughter, then a sensual moan. Kirk quickened his step. He had even less desire to intrude on anyone else’s fantasy than to experience his own.  

But then, why shouldn’t I? That's what this planet is for, after all.   

He dismissed the thought with a shake of the head, keyed the entry to his villa, and the door slid smoothly aside.  

* 

An hour later, the atmosphere of relaxation had seeped into his bones. Sitting on the balcony at the rear of his villa, overlooking an expansive and beautiful private garden, he had to admit that McCoy had been right. This place was lovely, and the alcohol he had consumed had taken the edge off the tension that seemed to have been dogging him for months.  

What it hadn’t done, however, was take the edge off the unacknowledged feelings of loneliness that sometimes haunted his nights. If anything, they had worsened. After four years of living his dream of captaining a starship, the parts of that dream he had never looked at too closely had been thrown into sharp relief.  

Like the isolation inherent in his work. With time to think, and very little chance of interruption, Kirk found his mind wandering over the years gone by. Edith. Miramanee. Relationships that should never have happened. But ones that had shown him what his life was sorely lacking. The complexity of connection. The simplicity of love.  

But both of them had proved what he’d always believed: that captaining a starship was incompatible with any close relationship. That way lay heartache, or worse.  

If you wanted to be the best, then you couldn’t have anyone else to compromise you. Not friends, not lovers. No one.  

And yet.  

There were two relationships in his life that consistently defied that belief.  

Leonard McCoy. Who had allowed himself to be practically coerced into accepting the position of CMO on the Enterprise, against his better judgement, and proved his value and loyalty as CMO and friend every day.  

And the other. The one he hadn’t seen coming. The one that had blown all his carefully nurtured notions about the isolation of command right out of the damn water.  

Spock.  

His mind, as he had trained it to do, immediately turned to Spock’s professional competence, a subject upon which his captain could write odes. But this time, he set that aside, and allowed himself to think about the man.  

Spock was unique. Extraordinary. Loyal. Smarter even than Kirk himself, and he’d been no slouch academically.  

And... he was funny. Dry, but witty, and subtle, but never cruel.  

And kind. Considerate of others. Constantly going above and beyond for his team in an understated way that went generally unremarked but had earned him the most loyal department on the ship.  

And – Kirk sighed to himself – he was handsome. Almost absurdly so. James Kirk had never considered himself to have a type. His dating history prior to the Enterprise would certainly support that notion. He liked clever, witty, spirited, and kind: he wasn’t fussy about the package it came in.  

But Spock ticked boxes he hadn’t even known he had. Strong, but still slim. Tall, but not so he had to crane to catch his eye. Eyes so dark, in dim light it was like looking at the night sky.  

He’d been in love with his first officer before his mind had caught up, and now he couldn’t make it stop. He had fallen in love with someone who couldn’t love him back. Whose entire species disdained emotion.  

Spock’s voice echoed in his mind. “When I feel friendship for you, I am ashamed.”  

Kirk stared at his drink. What would you feel if you loved me, Spock?   

Fortunately, the alcohol he was drinking had taken the edge off the melancholy that usually accompanied that thought.  

Unfortunately, it had also taken the edge off his inhibitions, and the quiet voice that had speculated about using the planet’s extraordinary illusion creation system had become significantly more insistent. He glanced across to the panel on the wall, just inside the door, that controlled the system for his surroundings. All it would take was the flick of a switch, then his subconscious would be given free rein to create whatever it wanted. Whatever would bring him joy.  

He stood, a little unsteadily. Just go to bed. Don’t touch the panel.   

He walked towards it. Stared at the innocently blinking lights, the innocuous switch. 

Who would I see? Ruth? Edith? Miramanee? He couldn’t imagine any of those not bringing pain.  

He ignored the voice in his head that whispered that he knew exactly who he would see. And that there would be no pain. Only relief from a quiet ache that had become so much a part of his being that he barely noticed it any more.  

All the more reason not to touch that switch.  

So, I just spend the rest of my life alone? That’s the plan? Or with people I lose. Or push away. Because there’s nothing and no one more important than my ship. More important than my career.   

But...one night. What would it matter?  

Of course, it would matter. I'd never be able to look him in the eye agai n.  

Not a night then. Just...a moment. I can give myself that, surely. Surely, I’ve earned a little happiness, a moment’s peace.   

Before any more questions could arise, before the voice of his conscience grew any louder, he stepped decisively forward, and threw the switch.  

The silence that followed was anticlimactic. The breeze still blew gently through the open window, the night was still warm, but in and around the villa, all was still.  

Kirk bent his head to the wall, leaning against it with a huff of laughter at his own idiocy.  

Such agonising, and his request to have the creation system inactive had been followed after all. Or his subconscious hadn’t come up with anything. Either way, even the planet was telling him to go to bed, sleep, and get back to the Enterprise as soon as diplomatic politeness would allow.  

He ignored the stab of disappointment, and pushed away from the wall.  

This was right. This was how things should be, this was – 

“Hello Jim.” 

He whirled. There was a figure on the balcony, near the chair he had just vacated, backlit by starlight, and the tiny lights that illuminated the garden paths. From where Jim stood, the face was obscured in shadow, but it didn’t matter.  

“Spock .” His quiet exhalation carried into the garden. 

The figure said softly, “Jim. I am so very glad to see you again.” 

Kirk didn’t hesitate. He covered the ground between them in a few strides, and threw his arms around the slim figure, finding himself enveloped in turn, held tightly against that warmth and strength as a soft voice murmured endearments against his hair.  

They stood like that for a long time.  

Eventually, slowly, Kirk drew back. “We can’t – nothing can happen. I shouldn’t have –” He broke off. “You need to go.”  

“I know, ashayam. All is well. I know your will.” Spock’s voice was soft.  “But I also know… how much you need me.”  

* 

USS Enterprise, Captain’s quarters, one week later.   

Kirk looked up from his desk in surprise as the door opened. “Come in, Doctor. Don’t knock, make yourself at home.”  

McCoy’s face drew some of the mild sarcasm from his tone. “Bones? What’s wrong?” 

“You - haven’t seen it, have you?” McCoy drew a breath. “Look, don’t overreact. No one will notice, and even if they do it’ll be a nine-day wonder and forgotten just as quickly.” 

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

McCoy placed a padd in front of him and Kirk glanced at it. “It’s the article about the opening of the shore leave planet resort. And?” 

“Have you read it?” 

“No.” 

“Scroll down.” 

Frowning, Kirk did as instructed. Past features on the planet's unique illusion generation system, the bars, the entertainment, the spas and the nightlife. He was about to ask what Bones was talking about when he reached it. At the end of the article, there was a final piece, under the heading ‘The perfect place for interplanetary romance?’  

Beneath the heading was a picture, that was unmistakably himself, his face turned towards the viewer, eyes closed in an expression of quiet bliss, locked in the embrace of another, whose back was to the camera, face entirely concealed, but whose pointed ears and short dark hair were outlined in clear light and shadow.  

As slow dawning horror began to uncoil in his gut, Kirk read the text beneath.  

“As regular readers will know, the USS Enterprise, famous and feted flagship of Starfleet, was the first ship to visit this planet, thereby opening it up to the galaxy, and paving the way for the resort it now houses. So, it seems fitting that her equally renowned Captain, James T. Kirk, Starfleet’s most famous – or should that be infamous – bachelor, has finally found true love. Certainly, this image would seem to suggest as much.  

“If that is the case, then this journalist for one, wishes the happy couple well. The question is, of course, who is the other person in the picture? And the follow up question, given the unique and sought-after nature of the planet’s main attraction, would be: is it in fact a real person at all?  

“Discreet inquiries have elicited the information that the illusion generating technology in Captain Kirk’s villa was turned off for the duration of his stay, indicating that the other person in the image is, indeed, real. And, as the more perspicacious amongst you will have spotted, very definitely Vulcan. It does seem apt, to your correspondent at least, that Earth’s most famous explorer should have finally found romance with someone from another planet entirely. 

“Which leaves us with the final question: who is Captain Kirk’s mysterious Vulcan? The life of a starship captain gives plenty of opportunity to visit other planets and encounter other species, but the most obvious suspect is a little closer to home.  

“The Enterprise’s first officer, Commander Spock, has a long standing professional relationship with Captain Kirk, often cited by Starfleet as a highly successful example of interspecies working, in a bid to encourage non-human entrants to the fleet.  

“But could their relationship be closer than anyone has realised? Captain Kirk has a reputation – if rumour is to be believed – as something of a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ type, leaving broken hearts across the quadrant. But there doesn’t appear to be anything casual about this embrace.  

“Has the heart of Starfleet’s most famous Captain finally been claimed by none other than his own first officer? Certainly, even a brief glance at the mission reports that have been made public shows numerous situations in which they have risked their lives for each other, and for their ship. One cannot help but imagine that those heightened circumstances would bring two people very close together indeed. And with repetition? Well, the outcome seems inevitable.  

“So has the resort played host to Starfleet’s first inter-species command team romance on its opening weekend? Or is the Captain’s mysterious Vulcan someone else entirely? Only time will tell.” 

Kirk lowered the padd carefully to his desk and took a long, slow breath before raising his gaze to meet the not unsympathetic eyes of his CMO.  

“Something you want to tell me, Jim?” 

Kirk said hollowly, “She was looking for gossip. A story about the ship, the crew. I was so convinced that none of my crew would be stupid enough to give her anything. Then she gets her story about me. Dammit!” He swept the padd off the desk, where it clattered against the wall and settled to the floor.  “I can’t believe I was that stupid .”  

“You wanna tell me what happened?” 

Kirk put his head in his hands for a moment, before replying. “Nothing. That’s the bleak irony of this whole situation. Nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair, before saying quickly, “We had a drink at the opening night gala, you remember?” 

“We had a few.” 

“Yeah. You and Scotty wanted to try out a few of the bars.”  

“Yep. And boy, did I pay for that the next morning. Go on.” 

“I went back to my villa.” 

“You wouldn’t be persuaded that a night out would do you good.” 

“I had work to do.” 

McCoy glanced at the picture, then back to his friend. “So it seems.”  

Kirk ignored him. “She was right. The illusion creation system was off the entire time. Almost.” 

“ Almost ?” 

“I didn’t feel like I'd be able to concentrate straight away, so I sat on the balcony for a while.” He sighed. “It really was quite lovely there.” 

“It was.”  

“I might have had another drink.” 

“Uh-huh.”  

“Or two.” 

“Right.” 

“Free bar.”  

“I know.”  

“I – started to wish I’d gone out with you.”  

“You got lonely.” 

Kirk stared at the desk top. “Yeah.” 

“And you were drunk. Never a good combination.”  

“No. So I turned the illusion creation system on. Just for company. Just for – it can’t have been more than five minutes. Ten at the most.” 

“What were you hoping for?” 

“I didn’t know what it would show me, I just wanted – someone.” 

There was silence for a long moment.  

McCoy’s eyes went back to the photo. “It is Spock, isn’t it?” His voice was quiet. “Or a damn good facsimile, at any rate.” 

Kirk nodded, eyes still on the desk. “I swear I wasn’t sure. I should have known. It had shown him to me before. The first time we were here.” 

McCoy eyed him curiously. “I thought you were with Ruth.” 

“I was. But she left, and then Spock came. Or an illusion of Spock, anyway.”  

“What happened?” 

“He - told me he loved me.” On his CMO’s expression, Kirk sighed. “I’m well aware how that sounds, but you’ll have to take my word for it, that right up to that moment, I didn’t know.”  

“You didn’t know what?” 

“How I felt. I’d been convincing myself that we were just good friends for months. And then my subconscious goes and does - that. So obviously I left immediately. Found Ruth again. I had to be able to look Spock in the eye, you know?” 

“I can imagine. But then we came back.” 

“Yeah. And I requested that the illusion system be turned off in my villa.” 

“I did wonder about that. But you turned it back on.” 

“It had been so long since last time. So much has happened. I didn’t know who it would show me.” 

“But you hoped?” 

“Yes. But I still have to be able to look Spock in the eye, so I  –“ He broke off, eyes wide. “Do you think he’s seen this?” 

“If he hasn’t, he soon will. It's not like she isn’t well read.”  

“I’m going to have to talk to him.” 

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “And say what, exactly?”  

Kirk didn’t answer, just stared at the opposite wall. “What if he wants a transfer?” 

McCoy frowned. “Woah, hold on. You just jumped several guns at once. If you’re Spock, what are you thinking right now? Some journalist made some unfounded speculation about you and your Captain that you know isn’t true, because you know you were on the ship.” 

“Right.” 

“And the article says the illusion creation system is off. Which you have no reason to disbelieve. Which means that the worst conclusion Spock is coming to right now is that you have a close relationship with another Vulcan you didn’t tell him about.” 

Kirk looked quietly horrified. “I can’t let him think that.” 

“What’s the alternative? `Fess up to creating a version of him to hug?” 

“Is this you being helpful?” 

“This is me being honest.”  

“This whole thing is your fault.” 

McCoy’s eyes widened . “Me ?” 

“Yes, you! You were the one that encouraged me down to that damn planet in the first place. You were the one that decided a massage from Spock was a good idea. And you were the one who got me drunk that night.”  

McCoy snorted. “Nice try, but you’re the one who wasn’t self-aware enough to realise he’s been head over heels for his first officer practically since the day you met.”  

“That’s an exaggeration.” 

“But is it wrong?” 

“What does it matter, if he doesn’t feel the same?” 

“How the hell would you know how he feels? Have you asked him?” 

“Of course not.”  

“Well then.” 

Kirk took a breath. “So: best case scenario, everyone who sees this thinks I've got a Vulcan lover who’s probably Spock, and Spock thinks I’ve got a Vulcan boyfriend.”  

“Right.”  

“Worst case scenario: Spock realises it’s a recreation of him, and I'm outed as the sort of creep who creates illusions of junior officers to harass.”  

“I think you’d find over four hundred people on this ship who’d refute that assessment. Jim, don’t be so hard on yourself. You were lonely, you were tired, you’ve been stressed – don't argue - you’d had too much to drink, and the system gave you what you’ve spent months, I'd say years, pretending you didn’t want. You wouldn’t be human if you hadn’t been tempted for a minute. 

“And there’s no way anyone will be able to prove that’s Spock. His own mother wouldn’t recognise him from that shot. I wasn’t sure until you told me, and I had my suspicions. No-one else will know, and the ship’s logs will confirm he was here, if Starfleet asks.”  

Jim put a hand to his forehead. “Oh hell . Starfleet. Of course, they’ll ask. If I get away without a grilling from Nogura, it’ll be a miracle. Behaviour unbecoming a Starfleet officer.” 

“Having a personal life? Hardly.”  

“What the hell am I going to tell him? That I was with a re-creation of my first officer? That’s worse than actually breaching the fraternisation regs.”  

“No-one gives a fig for those regs, and you know it. And you tell Nogura, as it’s not a member of your crew, it’s none of his business who it is. You were off-duty and not even on the ship at the time.”  

“I was in uniform. Dress uniform.”  

McCoy looked again at the picture. “Well, you can’t tell from that shot, and that’s only because you live in your uniform anyway. Do you even have other clothes?” 

“Of course.” 

“Oh yeah? Where?” 

“We’re getting off the point.”  

“What is the point?” 

“The point is, that in the eyes of Spock, my crew, and the rest of Starfleet, I have some kind of romance going with a Vulcan who doesn’t exist. And anyone else who reads this will think I’m sleeping with my first officer.”  

“It’s none of anyone's business and that's what you tell them.”  

“Right.”  

“Except Spock.”  

“What?” 

“Him, you talk to.”  

“Why?” 

“Because you owe him honesty. Tell him the truth. Tell him how you feel. See what he says.”  

There was a long silence. Then Kirk shook his head. “No.” 

“What? Why not?” 

“Because we’ve got over a year left, Bones. And I want him here. I need him here. I won’t do anything to jeopardise this ship, and he’s the best first officer she could have. By a light year. I’ll never be so stupid again. He never needs to know.”  

“You’re assuming he’d leave.”  

“What’s the alternative? He falls into my arms, declares his undying, then Starfleet quotes regs at us, and makes him leave anyway? There’s no scenario where this turns out well. None.”  

“I thought you didn’t believe in the no-win scenario.”  

“I don’t. Which is why I’m not putting myself in one. Move on. It didn’t happen.”  

“I think you’re making a mistake.” 

“We’ll see.”  

* 

USS Enterprise, First Officer’s Quarters  

The chirrup of the communications alert interrupted Spock’s completion of his latest departmental report and he thumbed the comm switch without looking up. “Spock here.” 

Uhura’s voice came easily over the link. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Commander. I’ve got your mother for you.”  

Spock’s head snapped up and he stared in surprise at the comm. “Indeed. Please connect her communication, Lieutenant, thank you.” 

“Transferring now, Mister Spock.” 

His viewscreen flashed to life, and he turned it slightly to get a better view. HIs mother’s face appeared, and she smiled with pleasure to see him. Before he could speak, she held up a hand. “I know, I know. It's not our usual call time, but honestly, we aren’t due to speak for another ten days and you can’t blame me for being curious.” 

“Good evening, mother. It is always pleasing to hear your voice, even if, as in this case, it is a surprise. Now please elucidate: to what do you refer?” 

Her smile had grown at the first comment, but now she frowned. “Well, the article, of course. I’ve an alert set up so that any mentions of the Enterprise in the press are flagged to me straight away. I must admit: this one came as a surprise. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” 

Spock stared at her in confusion. He was familiar with many of his mother's habitual expressions, and this one seemed to speak of anticipation, almost teasing. Although about what, he could not imagine. “I am not familiar with the article to which you refer.” 

“Oh. Hold on.” She looked away for a moment, towards the edge of the screen, then a notification popped up of a file transfer. He opened it. She added, “Do read it. It’s not too long. I’ll wait.”  

Spock scanned quickly through the article. It was a summary of the recent events on the shore leave planet, concluding with an effective review of the new resorts, and a recommendation. The style was a little flowery, containing too many adjectives for his taste, but it was in essence accurate, and he still could not see - 

Jim .  

He froze. Before him was a picture of his captain, a look on his face that Spock had only dreamed of seeing. His captain. Jim. In the arms of another. Another Vulcan . He stared at the picture for a long moment, willing it to show something else, then dragged his eyes to the text. He read the entire thing through slowly, twice. Then stared again at the picture.  

His mother’s voice said gently, “Spock?” 

He almost jumped. He had forgotten her presence.  

He was proud of the neutrality of his voice as he replied, “Yes, mother?” 

She said, with a careful note in her voice that had not been there before, “I hope you don’t think we’re prying, darling, but your father and I were wondering -” 

“It is not me.” His voice was rough, and he swallowed to clear his throat.  

“Oh. Oh well. The article wasn’t sure, you know what these pieces are like, they aren’t always accurate, your father has had to correct a few...” her voice tailed off. “Spock, are you alright?” 

“Yes, mother, of course.” 

“You look quite pale, darling.” 

He did not correct her endearment. “I am well.” 

“Oh. Good. So, it’s not you, well, we just wanted to make sure. I don’t suppose you know who -” 

“I do not.” 

“Of course. None of our business. Darling, are you quite sure you’re -” 

“My apologies mother, but I must curtail our conversation. I have duties to attend to. I will call you again at our usual appointed time.”  

“Oh. Of course. I’ll look forward to -” 

He ended their connection.  

* 

Amanda stared at the blank screen in consternation. A voice behind her said quietly, “My wife?” 

She sighed. “I assume you heard.” 

“Yes. I must say it is a relief. It would not have been the kind of publicity this family requires.” 

“I'm not so sure.” 

“Upon what do you base that scepticism?” 

“Well, it’s never good to be the subject of idle gossip, but I always thought –” her voice trailed off.  

Her husband said patiently, “You thought - ?” 

“Well, I always rather liked the idea of Spock finding his own bondmate. And I rather like James Kirk.” On Sarek’s expression, she added pointedly, “We both do.” 

Her husband’s voice was dry. “Not that much.” 

* 

Spock stared at the picture. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was as if the small collection of pixels had weaved some kind of drugging spell.  

He had wondered, on those very rare occasions when he allowed his mind to wander to the subject, what Jim would look like. Truly in love. Truly enraptured with another. He had long been convinced, for all his captain’s loves that he had known whilst they had served together, that James Kirk had never truly surrendered his heart. He had loved, yes, but always held back a part of himself. The part that served, that travelled the stars. He had also believed that Jim was capable of a greater love, one that knew no material limit. He had wondered what that would look like.  

And now he knew.  

And wished, with all his heart, that he did not.  

* 

Any hopes that Kirk had nurtured that the article had passed unnoticed were dispelled the moment he stepped out of his quarters the next morning. Two Lieutenants, halfway down the corridor, stopped at the sight of him and exchanged meaningful glances before remembering themselves and nodding to him with a curt, “Captain”.  

He nodded back, and proceeded to the bridge. Which was, unusually, entirely silent. Kirk looked around in confusion. No-one met his eyes, not even Spock, who murmured, “Captain on the bridge”, and rose from the command chair without meeting his gaze, and crossed to the science station with a brief, “All is well, Sir.”   

“Thank you, Commander.” Kirk glanced over as he sat, but Spock was already working at something, and did not turn. The entire shift passed with none of the usual bonhomie that characterised a quiet shift with this particular crew. Even Uhura was silent, only murmuring occasional instructions to her team through her earpiece, and exchanging the occasional word with Spock, with whom, Kirk noticed, she was extraordinarily gentle and even kinder than was her custom.  

Any comment by Kirk himself to anyone was met with the barest monosyllables that would constitute adequacy, and then the conversation dropped. Spock left halfway through the shift to continue his work in the lab, and Kirk raised no objection. If anything, this seemed to make the atmosphere worse.  

As soon as the shift was over, Kirk headed for the turbolift. He was fairly certain that conversation started the very second the doors closed.  

* 

The next day was much the same. The only person who appeared to have thawed slightly towards his Captain was Spock himself, who, whilst still refusing an appointment to play chess, at least did so politely, and with the appearance of regret.  

* 

Kirk stormed into McCoy’s office. “I need a drink.” 

McCoy looked up from his console. “How about: ‘Good evening, Bones, how has your day been?’” 

“The good stuff,” Kirk had begun to pace. “Don’t try and fob me off with the home brew.”  

McCoy rose, opened one of his cabinets, reached to the very back and retrieved a bottle, blew off some dust, and poured two glasses.  

“Not a good day?” 

Kirk shot him a glare, picked up his glass, and downed half.  

“Hey, if I'm giving you the good stuff, at least savour it.” 

Kirk had resumed pacing. “Look, Len, I know you have a duty of confidentiality to the crew, and anything they tell you during a consultation is doctor / patient confidential, but I need to know: what the hell is going on? Is this about the article?” 

McCoy looked genuinely confused. “Jim. Sit down. Is what about the article?” 

After a brief hesitation, Kirk sat. “You didn’t come to the bridge today. Or yesterday.” 

McCoy said carefully, “I had reports to write, remember? Someone wanted all the physicals signed off before our next report to Starfleet. What’s wrong?” 

Kirk picked up his drink, stared at it for a moment, then said, “I don’t know how to fix this. Everyone is treating me like Captain Ahab. And they are all doing it just the right side of insubordination. There’s absolutely nothing I can call any of them on, and believe me, I’ve been looking. It’s intolerable. I’m being given the cold shoulder by my own crew .” He threw back the rest of his drink. “I’ve served on ships like this. It can’t hold. If I don’t get things back in line -” he broke off, slammed the drink down, and ran a hand through his hair. “You know what the worst thing is? I always had this notion that, if anything -” he broke off again, muttered, “You know what? Doesn’t matter.” 

“Jim, what’s been happening?” 

“It’s more what hasn’t been happening. It's the atmosphere. No-one talks to me outside of any interaction required by their duties. I walk down the hall; everyone tries to avoid my eyes. I’ve never heard so many people contrive to make the word Captain sound like ‘oh, it’s you, is it?’ I’ve never been the sort of commander who polices people’s tone – I've never had to be - but I’ve come damn close to reporting some people for disrespecting a senior officer the last few days.” 

Leonard McCoy regarded his friend with concern. Kirk’s jaw was set, and to all appearances he was merely angered by the events, but McCoy was a friend of many years standing, and the thread of genuine hurt underneath the captain’s response was plain to see. He said, “And you think it’s the article?” 

Kirk nodded. “Has to be. They’ve all read it, and now they think I’m molesting a member of my staff.” He stared miserably at his empty glass.  

McCoy put his head on one side. “What’s the worst of it?” 

“What?” 

“You said ‘the worst of it is’. What’s the worst of it?” 

Kirk looked tired. “It’s nothing – it’s stupid.”  

McCoy looked at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”  

Kirk sighed. “Okay. Since the last time we were here, sometimes I’ve thought about – Spock. About what would happen if we – always assuming he -“ he broke off, swallowed. “And every time, every time, the obstacle was Starfleet. The problem was never our crew. I always thought they’d be – if not happy, then at least supportive. Morale has never been a problem on this ship, we’ve always had the respect of our crew. I guess I thought – there was some affection in that too. Turns out, there wasn’t. Not for me, anyway.” His eyes returned to his empty glass. 

McCoy reached over, and poured him another. “Well, you’re right about one thing – you need to get this resolved.” 

“I know. This kind of attitude from the crew can’t -” 

McCoy waved a hand. “I don’t mean that. I mean, that for the first time since I’ve known you, certainly the first time since you’ve been a captain, you are reading a situation involving your crew completely wrong.” Kirk stared at the doctor with an expression that would send an ensign running. McCoy continued blithely, "Your judgement is impaired on this, and it’s entirely due to the only blind spot you really have.” 

“What blind spot?” Kirk’s voice was sharp.  

McCoy sipped his newly topped up drink. “Spock.” 

“Don’t be absurd, I don’t have a blind spot with Spock. I’m well aware of his capabilities -” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever proved my point quite so fast before.” 

“Bones, what the hell are you talking about?” 

McCoy put down his drink, and leaned forward. “Of course, you’re well aware of Spock’s capabilities. It’s his feelings you’ve completely ignored, and the crew have noticed.”  

“What?” 

McCoy took a breath. “The crew aren’t mad at you because they think you’re having an affair with Spock. They are mad at you because they think you’re cheating on Spock.”  

Kirk stared at his friend for a long time. “Bones, how much have you had to drink?” 

McCoy sighed the sigh of a very patient man. “You know where I am when I’m not on the bridge? Here. And you know who else comes through here? Your crew. Every last one of ‘em. And most of ‘em aren’t that keen to be here. So they like to chat. About what you might call subjects of common interest. And even were that not the case, I work all day, every day with Christine Chapel, who is best friends with Uhura, who knows every damn thing that happens on this ship. So, what I’m saying is, your crew? Would cheer to the damn rafters if you kissed Spock right on the bridge.”  

Kirk gaped. “You’re not serious?” 

“Jim, I can’t speak for Spock. I wouldn't even presume to speak for you. But on this, I can speak for the crew, and they believe, to a person, that Spock is in love with you, and has been for some time. They also thought, right up until that article came out, that you were in love with him, and only fleet regs have been keeping the two of you apart. Believe me, there’s some stories of romantic pining being spun here, let me tell you.” On Kirk’s dumbfounded face, he added, “And there’s a fair few that think you aren’t letting regs keep you apart, if you catch my drift.”  

Kirk’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.  

“Then this article comes out, with that picture attached, and there’s brief celebrations until someone examines the transporter logs. Which tell them?” 

“Spock didn’t beam down.”  

“Right. And everyone knows you turned the illusion creation system off, because not only did you announce it on the bridge, but the article confirmed it. Therefore, conclusion?” 

Kirk pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am cheating on my non-existent relationship with a non-existent Vulcan.” 

“Right. Except in the crew’s eyes, you’ve really cheated on Spock, and it turns out, they all like him a lot.” 

“This – is insane.” 

“Is it though?” 

“Yes! I’m not in a relationship with anyone! And especially not Spock!” Kirk ran a hand across his face. “You can’t be right about this.”  

McCoy merely watched him. 

“You can’t be right.”  

McCoy sipped his drink.  

“What would make them think –” Kirk broke off. “Why would they –” he stopped, trying again. “Why do they think Spock is in love with me?” 

“Have you seen you two together?” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean, we’ve all been stuck on this ship, in each other’s pockets, for four years now. And people get to know each other. Relationships are formed. People get close. And there aren’t two people on this ship closer than you and him. And the crew have noticed. They’ve also noticed that you haven't so much as glanced at someone else for over fourteen months now. And that isn’t a ballpark, that’s a number they actually track.”  

“The crew keeps a track of my love life? Or - lack thereof?” 

McCoy rolled his eyes. “You were a midshipman once, right?” 

“Alright, fair point. But that’s still no reason to conclude -”  

“You work together all day. You spend your evenings in each other’s quarters. You eat together in the commissary. You've both jumped in front of more shots for each other than I’d like to count. You’ve never, other than under alien influence, failed to support each other, or even fallen out. You can literally finish each other’s sentences. And despite many opportunities, you both remain stubbornly unattached to anyone else. The surprise here isn’t that the rumour started, Jim, it’s that it took so long to really take hold.”  

There was silence. Until McCoy added softly, “And they aren’t actually wrong, are they?” 

Kirk took a deep breath. “How do I fix this?”  

“Honestly? I’m going back to the suggestion I made – may I remind you – three days ago. The truth is your friend.”   

“Absolutely not.”  

“Why?”  

“Because this doesn’t change anything! No scenario here ends well. Yes, I’ve just discovered that I apparently have a crew of budding romance novelists, but ‘my crew are really into the idea’ is not an argument I can make to Starfleet. This is not a democracy. And besides –” he took a breath “– there are some really big assumptions being made here about how Spock feels. I mean, come on, he’s Vulcan. There's no way anyone knows how he really feels. About any of this.”  

* 

Spock laid down his lyre with an almost imperceptible sigh. This lack of mental discipline was truly disappointing. He had not been able to concentrate on his experiments in the lab. Returning to his quarters to read papers had also been futile, and now he was unable to successfully execute pieces he had been familiar with since childhood.  

He rose, removed his tunic, and donned his meditation robe. Perhaps a mental rest would enable him to regain his former efficiency. He lit a candle, positioned himself with ritual care, then closed his eyes.  

He breathed slowly, rhythmically.  

Her renowned Captain, one James T. Kirk ...has finally found true love.  

The thought shot through his empty mind like a phaser blast. Spock took a deep breath, re-centered himself.  

The image of James Kirk, eyes closed in loving rapture, came to his mind's eye, and he opened his eyes, fixing his attention on the wall of his quarters.  

This was intolerable. His own mind was betraying him. Refusing to allow him peace. Evoking emotions that he did not wish to feel. Jealousy. Betrayal. Sadness. Emotions that he had no right to feel. Emotions that were illogical.  

And above all, still and without question: love.  

There was even a part of him that was happy for his captain. Loneliness had dogged James Kirk for many years, and as his friend, there was a true joy in seeing that loneliness dispelled. A joy that threatened to fade like mist in the morning in the face of his own heartbreak, but that he clung to nevertheless.  

He wondered if Kirk would ever bring his love to the Enterprise. He thought of all the questions Jim had asked him around Vulcans, and Vulcan culture. There was even a time he had dared to hope that the interest might be, perhaps, revolving around himself, rather than another. How foolish that seemed now. It was an oddly painful thought that every conversation they had ever had about Spock’s people was preparing Jim to find love in the arms of another.  

The sound of the door chime interrupted his melancholy train of thought, and he shook himself free of it. There was no logic in such thoughts. He rose. “Come.” 

Kirk entered, caught his eye, and essayed a smile. Spock’s traitorous heart gave a small leap, and he wondered with a mental sigh how many times he would have to see James Kirk in the arms of another before his entirely illogical heart stopped being delighted to see him.  

* 

Kirk consciously straightened his shoulders and made himself seem as relaxed as possible. Spock, as usual, looked entirely unruffled. Kirk thought absently, I wish I could do that . Aloud, he said neutrally, “Hey Spock.” 

“Good evening, Captain.”  

He gestured to Spock’s meditation robe, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“You did not. I had not begun.” 

“Oh, good. That’s good.” He cleared his suddenly parched throat. “Look, I just wanted a quick word, if this is a good time.” 

“Indeed.” Spock gestured to his desk, and Kirk sat, Spock taking a seat on the opposite side.  

Jim took a breath and leaned forward. “Okay. I’m sorry this took so long. I should have spoken to you about this yesterday – I owe you at least that, but, honestly? I was hoping this would all blow over. And, obviously, it hasn’t.” 

Spock evinced no reaction to this statement, said merely, “To be clear, Captain, we are speaking of...?” 

“The, er, the article.” Kirk did his best to sound casual. “The one about the opening of the resort. I take it you’ve seen it?” 

“I have.” Kirk watched carefully, but Spock’s voice and posture were entirely neutral, making it impossible to read what he had thought about the article in question.  

“Right. And so have the crew, apparently, if the atmosphere around me at the moment is anything to go by.” He gave a tight half smile.  

Spock said carefully, “I have noticed a level of reserve in your presence that is not commensurate with their usual default respect for your position.” 

“If that’s your way of saying the entire crew is treating me like the only Romulan on the ship, then yes, they are. All over that damn article.” A thought occurred and he frowned. “Spock, I hope no-one has given you a hard time over it?” 

“No. No-one on the crew has mentioned it to me.” Spock’s face was still imperturbable. 

“None of them have mentioned it to me either, but I'd bet my commission they’ve all read it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry that damn woman had to drag you into it, Spock, I really am, and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” 

There was a heavy silence, as Kirk tried, unsuccessfully, to read the slightest hint of his first officer’s thoughts in his face.  

“As you say, Captain, all parties are aware of the truth of the situation, so further speculation by outside individuals is irrelevant.” Spock’s voice was tight.  

“Right. Exactly. Which is what I told Starfleet when they tried to accuse us of breaching fraternisation regs.”  

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Starfleet is aware?” 

“Of course, Nogura’s read it. Couldn’t wait to talk to me about it. Even tried the ‘conduct unbecoming’ line. I told him where to stick it.” On Spock’s face, he added, “Politely. Very politely. And don’t worry, they – fleet command, the crew – are absolutely clear that you aren’t involved here. At all. I was firm on that point.” 

Spock said quietly, “Thank you, Captain.” 

“It’s the very least I can do – I'm so sorry about this.”  

“You have no cause to reproach yourself. You were off-duty, in a space you believed to be private. You are not answerable to anyone for your actions.”  

Kirk sighed. “Thank you. After the day I’ve had, it helps to hear that. Especially from you.” He added, a little uncomfortably, “I was thinking – would you like me to make some kind of public statement?” 

“In regard to what?” 

“Well, look, you know it isn’t you in that picture, I know it isn’t you in that picture, and apparently the whole crew have access to the transporter logs all of a sudden, because Bones assures me that they know it too. But there will be a lot more people seeing this article than just Nogura and the crew. I wondered if you wanted me to make a statement. Let people know you aren’t tied down to me. You’re a free agent, so to speak. I don’t want people to be making assumptions that would make you - uncomfortable.” 

“That will not be necessary.”  

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” There was silence for a moment, before Spock said stiffly, “Will - the individual in the image not require similar consideration?” 

Kirk blinked. “The - what? Oh.” He was suddenly glad of the slightly dimmer lighting in his first officer’s quarters, which might hide his blush. “No, no, it’s fine – it's –“ He took a steadying breath. “Look, the article was right. I did turn the illusion creation system off. Except for the five minutes or so in which someone took that picture.”  

Spock said, slowly, “So the other person in the image was – an illusion of the planet.”  

Kirk didn’t meet his eyes. “Yes. Yes, he was.”  

They sat for a moment in uncomfortable silence, before Spock said stiffly, “Then it is even less the business of Starfleet. Or the crew.” He stopped suddenly. Something in his tone made Kirk look at him in concern, but his First Officer’s attention seemed riveted on a point over his right shoulder. Silence stretched until Spock said quietly, “I am unclear on one particular. Why do you believe the current abnormal behaviour of the crew is due to this article and image?” 

Kirk leaned forward, put his head in his hands. “It’s ridiculous. It’s really – completely ridiculous. But Bones, Chapel, and Uhura all think it’s true, and to be honest, I don’t have any better theories at the moment. I’d actually appreciate it if you could help me to come up with something, so I can lay all this craziness to rest.”  

“I will assist in any way I can.”  

“You might not want to when you hear what the crew are apparently thinking.” He sighed. “According to Bones, the crew think – of course, he could be entirely wrong -”  

“Which would not be unprecedented,” Spock interjected, “but the opinion of Lieutenant Uhura also carries weight.”  

“That was my thinking. Anyway, Bones thinks that the crew is... mad at me.”  

Spock’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “What possible rationale could there be for such a thought? This ship runs on loyalty to you. The Doctor is incorrect." 

Spock’s heartfelt, barely suppressed indignation at the mere thought made Kirk smile, the first genuine one he’d worn since he entered. “Apparently, they are loyal to you too.”  

“The two situations are entirely complementary.”  

“Well, yes. Unless, in the eyes of the crew, there are sides to be picked.” On Spock’s confused expression, he said, helplessly, “Look, I’m just repeating what other people think – I know it’s crazy. But the crew are angry at me for… cheating on you.” 

Spock looked at him with utter incomprehension. “Cheating on me – at chess?” 

Kirk gave a huff of embarrassed laughter. “No, they think that we’re, you know, together , and they know that you were on the ship all that night, so they think – I cheated on you.”  

There was a long silence. “We are not together.”  

“I know.”  

“Therefore, you cannot, by definition, cheat on me.” 

“I know that too.” 

“But the crew believe that we are – a couple. In the romantic sense.”  

“Apparently some of them do. And some of them just think that we’re hopelessly in love and pining for each other. Either way, I’m the bad guy here. Hence: the atmosphere.” 

“You would not cheat on a romantic partner.”  

Kirk released a sigh. “Well, I'm glad you said it. I was a bit offended by the assumption; I’ll be honest.”  

“Indeed. It is entirely out of line with your character.”  

“ Thank you.” This was said with some heat. “I’m glad someone has faith in me. But I still don’t know what to do about this whole ridiculous situation.”  

Spock said slowly, “There is one – obvious solution.” 

“What?”  

“If the problem is that the crew believe we are – romantic partners then surely, we should convince them we are not?”  

“I suggested that. Bones seems to think that would make things worse.”  

“How so?” 

“Well, it might look like you dumped me because I cheated on you and now, we’re trying to save face by pretending we were never together.” 

“That is – objectively absurd.”  

“I know! As if I’d cheat on you. It’s insane.” Spock blinked. Kirk said quickly, “I mean, as you said, it would be very out of character. So, what can we do?” 

“We must put to rest this rumour that we are part of a romantic coupling.”  

“Unless we - don’t.” 

Spock looked at him curiously.  

“It’s not the romance part that’s the problem, is it? The problem is that they think we’ve hit a rough patch.” 

“Because of your infidelity.” 

Kirk said, with an edge to his tone, “Which we’ve established didn’t happen. So, let’s just show them that we haven’t hit a rough patch.” 

“How would you propose we do that?” 

“If they already believe we’re together, all we’d need to do is just be more affectionate than usual. That should do it.”  

Spock looked thoughtful. “Indeed. So in this theoretical scenario, I have forgiven you for your dalliance with another Vulcan on the shore leave planet?” His voice was sceptical.  

Kirk gaped. “Hold on, there was no - dallying .”  

“That is not how it appears to the crew.”  

“Fine. Then we tell them –” he took a breath “– it was you.”  

Spock frowned. “Very well. But the crew are aware I did not leave the ship. For what reason would you require an illusion of me if we are in a romantic relationship?” 

“Good point.” Kirk frowned, then his brow cleared. “Scotty was on the planet.”  

Spock looked vaguely alarmed. “I fail to see -” 

“Regulation seventy-nine.”  

“Ah of course. The three ranking officers of a starship cannot be off ship at the same time.” 

“Right.”  

“And as Commander Scott and yourself were planetside, I would have been forced to remain here.” 

“Thereby depriving us of a romantic evening which I made up for by getting a hug off a fake version of you.”  

“That sounds unlikely, I do not know if the crew would be convinced.”  

“What’s unlikely?” 

“You would have seen me less than five hours previously. Hardly enough time to miss me sufficiently to engage the illusion creation system.” 

“I don’t know.” Kirk smiled. “I think that’d be plenty of time to miss you.”  

There was a sudden heavy silence, and Kirk cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m the illogical human one of this partnership, remember? If all else fails, let’s just lean on that.”  

“Very well. How would you suggest we proceed?”  

“Okay, so: bridge shift tomorrow. We need to make it clear that we are, you know, getting along.” 

“Very well.” 

“So, I think we should arrive together, and leave together. And during the shift we should find reasons to talk to each other. I mean, more than usual. And stand close together.” He stopped. “Again, maybe more than usual. And I might, you know, flirt. With you. A bit. If that’s alright.”  

An odd look passed across Spock’s face, too quickly for Kirk to read. He said, “I - believe I could survive it.”  

Kirk nodded. “Right. Okay. And hopefully that will improve the atmosphere. If not, well, we’ll just have to step things up for the next shift.” 

* 

They walked to the turbolift next morning in what could only be described as expectant silence. As the lift gave them a moment of privacy, Kirk said, “So, ready to impress the crew with our great relationship?” 

When Spock didn’t immediately reply, he added quickly, “Look, if this makes you uncomfortable at all, we don’t have to do it. Or, I’ll do everything, and you just behave normally.” 

“That would not work. If anything, the greater affection must come from me, so it is clear that there is no resentment between us for anything that may have happened on the planet.” 

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“If you do not object.” 

“No, no, not at all. As long as you aren’t uncomfortable.” 

“I am comfortable with anything in this instance that will improve crew morale.”  

“Great. That’s great.” The lift began to slow. Kirk drew a breath. “Well, here we go.” 

* 

As the turbolift doors opened, Spock wondered if Kirk thought he had presented his first officer with a difficult task. Certainly, asking a Vulcan to pretend to be in love with their superior officer would be difficult in most circumstances. However, these were not most circumstances. These were circumstances in which Spock had been schooling himself for years to try and stop his preference for James Kirk becoming obvious to all on board, even with his Vulcan reserve.  

Now, Kirk was encouraging him to relax all pretence and not concern himself with any potential slips. All this shift required would be to set aside the extra layer of control he invoked on a daily basis. It was a task to which Spock felt himself more than equal.  

* 

James Kirk had never given a great deal of thought to the acting ability, or otherwise, of his first officer. Certainly, Spock could follow his captain’s lead in most scenarios, but Kirk had imagined that extraneous improvisation of his own would be a stretch.  

Within an hour of the start of their shift, he was starting to revise his opinion. Spock’s acting skills, as it transpired, were surprisingly good.  

Spock had decided to consult with him on every decision required in the science lab that day. Decisions that Kirk would never usually have a hand in, and some he didn’t actually entirely understand. But Spock presented them in such a way that the solution he favoured was obvious, and Kirk made a short show of consideration before endorsing Spock’s original plan.  

The first time it happened, Spock stepped over, showed the padd he was considering, and outlined the solution in a low voice, as their elbows brushed on the arm of the command chair.  

The second time, Spock held the padd in front of Kirk, leaning in slightly as Jim took the hint and leaned slightly towards him in turn. Their shoulders and arms connected as they talked.  

The third time, Kirk was already leaning over in anticipation as Spock moved. He stepped next to the command chair, and handed the entire padd to Jim, moving into him to indicate some point of interest. Jim leaned back in turn, and he could feel the warmth of Spock against his side, the brush of Spock’s breath against his cheek. It would have been such a very small movement to turn his head and –  

The crew wouldn’t object if you kissed Spock right on the bridge.   

Kirk drew a sharp breath and leaned away slightly.  

Don’t get carried away. We’re just pretending.   

Spock caught his movement and looked at him in concern. Jim smiled at him, anxious to reassure, and Spock – smiled back.  

It was the tiniest of movements of his face, but it was there, and Kirk’s breath caught, at the look, and at the fondness it contained.   

He couldn’t help but gaze back, allowing the answering affection to show in his face.  

Spock’s expression softened further and Kirk was seized with the urge to reach up and touch the face that was so close to his own.  

A pointed clearing of a throat from the ship's navigation station made them both jump, and Spock took a step back.  

Sulu said, without turning, and sounding as innocently neutral as possible, “Course correction recommended, Captain. Seven point two seven adjustment to avoid debris.” 

Kirk cleared his throat. “Navigation, concur?” 

“Concur, Keptain.”  

“Very well. Execute, Mister Sulu.”  

“Aye, sir.” 

Spock had stepped back to the science station and Kirk felt his loss like a chill against his side.  

* 

An hour later, Kirk decided it was his own turn to demonstrate the excellence of their relationship. He pulled up the last report from the science department on his padd, glanced over it quickly, then stepped with studied casualness over to the science station.  

“Spock, I was wondering –“ 

“Yes, Captain?” His first officer turned immediately, giving Kirk his instant, undivided attention.  

Slightly thrown, Kirk said, “I just, er, wanted to ask you a few questions. About this report.” 

“Certainly, Captain. What was your query?” Spock stepped closer, closing the already small gap between them, and reaching for the padd. His proximity froze Kirk in place, and he didn’t immediately release his grip on the padd, meaning that as Spock reached for it, their fingers brushed. Spock’s fingers slid over his own. And stopped. 

Their eyes met suddenly, and Spock’s pupils had blown wide. Kirk felt his own breath coming quicker. He remembered, suddenly, that the finger touch was an intimate gesture for Vulcans, and he cursed his own cultural insensitivity, even as he made to move his hand without drawing too much attention to the movement.  

But to his intense surprise, Spock tightened his grip on the padd, pressing his fingers to Kirk’s and holding them carefully in place. Warmth seemed to bloom from their touch and spread through his system. Kirk swallowed hard as the seconds stretched between them, then Spock was the one to draw slowly away, murmuring, “I will check it, thank you, Captain.” 

Kirk practically staggered back to the command chair, fixing his attention to the viewscreen like it held the secrets of the universe.  

* 

As their shift ended, Spock caught his eye, and they headed to the turbolift together without a word. 

Kirk took a breath, didn’t look at his first officer. “I, er, I thought that went well.” 

“Indeed. I believe we were convincing. I apologise if I made you uncomfortable when you attempted to release the padd. I observed Lieutenant Uhura watching us and deemed it would be expedient to extend the moment.”  

“Oh. Uhura.” The vicious stab of disappointment took him by surprise. “Right. Yes. Good – good idea. Very logical.” He swallowed hard. There was a moment’s silence. “Right. I’m going to speak to Bones this evening. Find out what ship's rumour has to say about us now.” 

The turbolift doors opened. A passing yeomen saw them exit, and beamed at them both before hurrying off.  

Kirk stared after her. “Well that’s an improvement.”  

“Surely the rumour of our improved relationship would not have reached the crew already. Our bridge shift has only just concluded.”  

Kirk smiled at him fondly. “There speaks a man unaccustomed to being the subject of rumour.”  

“And gladly so.”  

“Indeed. Right, I’m off to find Bones. Shall I let you know what the word is?” 

“Thank you, Captain. I shall be in my quarters.”  

“Right you are, Mister Spock.”  

Kirk watched him leave with a smile. Being back on good terms with Spock had somehow made him significantly less interested in the opinions of the rest of the crew. Not that he was about to call an end to their little experiment. His worries that it would be awkward had been entirely unfounded. That had been easily the most he’d enjoyed a shift for a while.  

He grinned to himself as he turned towards sickbay, only to find two of Scotty’s engineering crew at the mouth of a Jeffries tube, smiling knowingly at him.  

Kirk cleared his throat and they both murmured, “Captain” with the most genuine politeness he’d heard from a crewman in days. He straightened his face and gave them a terse nod as he passed. “Gentlemen.” 

Fierce whispering began the moment he was almost out of earshot, but this time, Kirk was unconcerned.  

* 

He wasn’t able to get to sickbay as quickly as he’d hoped, as a minor security query had him diverted to speak to his security chief, and then Scotty, so it was a few hours before he located McCoy in his quarters. As the door closed, he said, “Well?” 

McCoy waved him to a seat. “Have you been on the ship today?” 

“Yes, but shockingly no-one has come up to me to inquire about the state of my relationship with Spock, so I’ve come to you.” 

“Well, I might have kept my ear to the ground.” 

“And?” 

McCoy gave a huff of laughter. “I wish I'd come to the bridge today. The good news is, whatever you did, it worked like a charm on the bridge crew, who have dutifully reported your improved relationship. And the rumour that the image on the planet was you, mooning over your absent love, has been happily seized upon by the romantics amongst us.”  

“They’re not using the word mooned , are they? I’d hardly describe -” On McCoy’s face he said, “Well, it worked then. Great. I can't even take credit, Spock was brilliant, it was completely convincing. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have it in him.” 

“What, pretending to be in love with you for a whole shift? I wonder how he managed it.” McCoy’s voice was desert dry but Kirk ploughed on. “At least this thing is over, and -” 

“Hold your horses. It’s not an unqualified success.” 

“What do you mean?” Kirk’s voice was sharp.  

“I mean, the bridge crew are known to be the most loyal crew on the ship. Some people are suggesting they might be exaggerating. To improve morale.”  

Kirk groaned. “Oh, for goodness sake. What do they want? Kissing in the rec room?” 

McCoy raised an eyebrow.  

“Come on!”  

McCoy grinned, “Okay, I don’t think you’ll need to go that far.”  

“I should think not.”  

“But maybe some sort of public display of affection in the rec room might be an idea.”  

Kirk put his head in his hands. “How the hell do I suggest that to Spock? He was great today, but that is asking a bit much.” 

“From what I hear, he was even more convincing than you, so I wouldn’t see it being a problem.” 

“This is the last time.” 

“Not having fun?” 

“I’m having you drummed out of the service, that’s what I’m having.” 

McCoy settled back in his chair. “Don’t get my hopes up, it’s cruel.” 

“Okay, fine. The rec room. I’ll have to speak to Spock again.” He exhaled a long breath. “But this will have to be the last time.”  

* 

Spock had not objected to the rec room suggestion, in fact, he had added to the idea with a further suggestion that they could attend the rec room together the following evening. There was a musical evening planned, and Spock was due to play the lyre whilst Uhura sang, and he had suggested, with a slightly embarrassed air, that Kirk should attend.  

Kirk lit up immediately. “That’s a great idea.” 

“I hope it will not be too much of an imposition on your time to hear me play.” 

“Of course not, I love listening to you play. In fact, I wish I had more chances to hear you, so this is perfect. I only hope having the captain there won’t put too much of a crimp on everyone’s evening.” 

Spock had assured him it would not, and so Kirk sat between McCoy and Uhura, chatting amiably, drinking sparingly, and resigned to being the subject of curious glances from his crew. This last began to wear off as the evening wore on, and his presence started to slip people’s minds. Eventually Uhura rose and walked to a space in the centre of the room, followed discreetly by Spock, a raucous cheer went up, and Kirk was fairly certain he’d been almost entirely forgotten. An impression which increased when Spock struck a chord, Uhura began to sing, and all attention was riveted on her.  

The evening wore on. Uhura and Spock alternated with various other performances, and Kirk had a crash course in the musical abilities of his crew. He made an effort to clap extra loudly at the end of each song by Uhura and Spock, not that the extra volume made much difference to the already enthusiastic volume in the room. Spock noticed though, catching his eye after each song with an almost smile that made Jim smile wider and clap harder, even throwing in the odd whoop for good measure.  

He had started to wonder how late it was getting, and if they should call it a night, when Uhura approached him, smiling broadly. “Captain, I need your help.” 

He smiled fondly at her. She was talented, beautiful, the best comms officer in the fleet, and he was damn lucky to have her. He was also, he realised abruptly, a little drunk. How late was it, exactly? He took a breath. “How can I help you, Lieutenant?” 

“Well, we have a final song in our set tonight, but my throat is a little sore, and I think Mister Spock should sing it. It’s a Vulcan song, after all, but he’s refusing. I think you should ask him.” 

Spock appeared at her side. “Lieutenant Uhura has the far superior voice. My rendition would only invite disappointment.”  

Uhura frowned at him. “Not at all, you’re much better at it than I am, the Vulcan sounds so beautiful when you sing it. So lyrical and poetic. I don’t do it justice.” 

“Untrue. You are a very excellent student.” 

It was McCoy’s turn to frown. “Don’t encourage her to sing with a sore throat. I don’t want extra customers tomorrow. I’m going to have enough hangovers to deal with as it is.” 

Uhura turned back to Kirk. “It's just one song.” 

Kirk smiled uncomfortably. “I’m not going to order anyone to sing.”  

“It’s not an order, we’re all off duty here, it’s a request .” McCoy’s voice was dry. 

“Well, if you put it like that, I – guess I would like to hear it.” He risked a glance at Spock, and their eyes met. And held. After a long moment, Spock inclined his head. “Very well.” 

Uhura smiled triumphantly and took her seat. Spock returned to the centre of the room, sat down, and with no preamble, began to play again. The applause which had started as he sat scattered to silence. The sound of the lute threaded through the room, catching and hypnotising everyone present. Murmured conversations came to a stop. Then Spock's voice joined the instrument. Uhura was right. Spock’s voice, singing his native language, was irresistible, casting a spell over the entire room.  

Kirk stared at him; all pretence forgotten. He didn’t know the melody, couldn’t understand the words, but somehow, its message was entirely clear. It spoke of heat and deserts, of battle, and peace. He could feel the story somehow: sense the shift as the narrator fell in love, longed for his love, won his love, and the utter heartbreak when that love was lost to battle, and the singer was left to live alone, only the memory of his love to comfort him.  

As the last notes died away, the room fell silent. Spock had been keeping his gaze down, towards his lyre, but now he looked up, and his eyes met Kirk’s. Jim couldn’t even try to pretend. He knew everything he felt for this man was written on his face, all pretence vanished, all hiding ended. There was no way that Spock couldn’t know the truth, and in that moment, Kirk wanted him to know. He was tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and the song had reminded him that their lives were dangerous. They had risked death so many times, and the thought that one of them might die, with this never addressed, never acknowledged, was more painful than the thought of death alone could ever be. 

He saw the moment some of this communicated itself to Spock, and the Vulcan’s face, already warmed by the music, softened further, into that expression of deep affection that always made Kirk’s heart skip. 

The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat next to him broke the spell and he almost jumped, before becoming aware that Spock was no longer the sole centre of attention. The eyes of everyone in the room were flicking between captain and first officer in fascination, as if it was the final, vital point in a long, hard-fought game. Kirk swallowed, and lifted his hands to clap. They had barely touched before the sound was taken up around the room and Spock broke his gaze before standing to acknowledge the deafening applause.  

Next to Kirk, McCoy leaned over, whispered, “If that was faking, you both need to quit Starfleet and take to the stage.” 

Kirk shot him the best glare he could muster, but the doctor’s face was entirely serious. “Talk to him. Now.”  

* 

Their journey from the rec room to Spock’s quarters was conducted in uncomfortable silence. When they entered, Spock crossed the room, returned the lyre to its stand, and moved back to stand a few paces in front of his captain.  

Kirk said, “That last song – that was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it.”  

“Thank you. I am out of practice as a singer, and I have not played it frequently, but I was – inspired.”  

“Were you?” 

“Yes.” The silence was charged until Spock looked away. “Do you think the crew were convinced of our sincerity?” 

“I don’t care.” 

Spock’s gaze snapped back to him, and Jim took a step forward, bringing them closer. “I don’t care any more. Spock, I wasn’t pretending. I wasn’t putting on a show for the crew. I - that was real.”  

Spock stared at him in shock. “Jim –” He broke off. Jim was close enough to feel the air stir against his face as Spock breathed. It felt like a caress. Jim stared at the dark eyes, so close to his. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper, “Spock –“ he moved closer, bent his head.  

Spock followed the movement automatically, then drew back with a sharp, “We cannot, I – 

Kirk straightened, immediately mortified. “I’m sorry if I read this wrong, I think our little pantomime for the crew was too convincing. I got carried away, I thought you -” 

“No, no, you do not understand. Jim, I know this is not your true desire. You do not have it in you to betray another.”  

Kirk stared, confused. “What? Betray who?” 

“Your –” Spock hesitated, then pressed on, his voice tight. “Your lover. On the planet.”  

Kirk blinked. “I told you. There wasn’t anyone on the planet. Just me, after a bit too much to drink, feeling a bit sorry for myself. I’m aware it makes me sound slightly pathetic.” He gave a forced, self-conscious laugh.  

“The image you created on the planet was not of a real individual?”  

“Well, yes, it was. But -”  

“Thank you for your honesty, Captain.” 

“You’re welcome, but Spock, it didn’t mean anything, you don’t -” 

“Jim, please. I know my species are not known for their overtly emotional displays, or their innately tactile nature, but, as your friend, if there is ever any comfort I can offer, know that I am willing to do so. You were once kind enough to suggest that you looked to me for emotional security. I realise that may have been spoken in jest, but I would not be - uncomfortable with that role.”  

“Thank you, Sp-”  

“But I cannot act as a substitute for another, and nor would you truly wish it.”  

“A substitute for –? Wait, no -” 

“I have been your friend for four years. In that time, we have come to know each other well.”  

“We have, yes -” 

“Then Jim, as your friend, who knows you, I would be remiss if I did not tell you I believe you to be incorrect when you assert your embrace on the planet did not mean anything to you. I have seen you in many situations, both romantic and otherwise, and your expression in that image tells me that your feelings for this image you created on the planet are stronger than you know. I believe you may love him. The real him. And that you should tell him. You are capable of, and more than deserving of, the great affection this image indicates. Do not allow the chance for this happiness to pass you by. You deserve all the happiness that life can offer.” 

Jim swallowed, and found his voice. “Thank you. That means – more than you can know. But I thought – that he didn't feel the same. That he didn't love me the way I do him.”  

“Then he is a fool.” 

“He really isn’t. He’s the smartest person I know.”  

“If that were so, he would recognise his immeasurable good fortune in having captured the heart of one such as you, and would not be so foolish as to reject your affection.”  

Jim stared at him, eyes soft with affection, and hope. “You think so?”  

“I know it. It is logical.”  

“It’s not, you know.” Jim’s smile was gentle.  

“Perhaps not. But it is - true.”  

“You’re right. I do love him. More than I believed I’d ever love anyone. He’s extraordinary. I’d – I’d give up this ship. If he asked.”  

Spock stared at him in open shock. “Jim, no one worthy of your love would ever ask such a sacrifice of you.”  

“I know. He’d never ask. He understands. It’s one of the many reasons I love him.” 

“Then you must speak. And –“ there was only the barest tremble before Spock continued steadily, “I wish you every happiness. I hope he is worthy of you.”  

Jim took a tiny step forward. “He’s more than worthy. He’s more than I could ever have dreamed. He astounds me every day. He amazes me with his intelligence, his kindness, his humour, and his boundless capacity for love.”  

“Then I am gratified –” 

“No, you aren’t.” Jim was staring at him, watching him closely. “What you said before. About knowing my expression. About knowing me. That goes two ways. And you’re saying all the right things, but you’re feeling something else. What are you feeling, Spock? Tell me. Please.” 

“My feelings on the matter are irrelevant.”  

“No, they aren’t. Never. Not to me. Tell me, please. As your friend. Let me help.”  

“Jim, I cannot, I –”  

“Can I guess? Let’s see if I can read you as well as you can me.” He took a breath. “This upsets you. Not because you don’t wish me love, but because you don’t wish me love – with this stranger. Am I right?” 

“Jim –”  

“He isn’t a stranger. I know him better than I know myself. Don’t you recognise him? He’s got those perfect ears. That great hair. It – It wasn’t deliberate. I wasn’t sure what the system would show me, and I turned it off almost immediately.” He looked away, then back to the man before him. “Spock, I’m only human. I couldn’t resist the idea of a moment. With someone I could never hold like that in reality. Never hold like that whilst we’re on this ship. Whilst we’re on duty. Whilst he serves under me. Whilst he’s my first officer.” 

Spock's intake of breath was audible.  

Jim said quietly, “It’s you, Spock. It’s always been you.”  

There was a long silence.  

Then Spock said, slowly, with a dazed air, “The Vulcan whose image you imagined on the shore leave planet was – me . Because you – wished to be with me in a way that our respective ranks should render impossible.” 

“Yes, but I swear to you, nothing happened, except -”  

“You held me.” 

“Yes.”  

“Is that - something you have long desired?” Spock’s voice was quiet, his face unreadable.  

Jim swallowed. “Quite a while now, yes.”  

Silence fell again. 

“Spock, if this makes you uncomfortable, I’m so sor-” 

Spock held up a hand. “There is only one aspect of this situation that gives me pause.”  

“What is it?” 

“You know what it is to hold me. I do not know what it is like – to hold you. That is inequitable.” 

Jim blinked. “Well – yes. I mean, yes, it is. Is that - something you’d like to put right?”  

“As soon as possible.” Spock’s reply was swift.  

Jim could feel a smile tugging at his mouth. “What about the fraternisation regulations?” 

“In all my years in Starfleet, they are the regulations most frequently ignored. I am currently ignoring a number of fraternisations in my own department.”  

“You are ?” 

“Yes. And in this case, I feel that a harmonious and equitable relationship between the ship’s command team is of more import than the strict observance of those regulations.”  

“You do?” 

“I do. I would hope that – you concur?” 

“Oh, I do. Wholeheartedly. Concur. Yes. Yes, I do.”  

They stared at each other in charged silence. Neither moved.  

Spock said, “Would it be easier to pretend that I am an image of your imagination, and that anything that happens in the next few moments will have no effect on our friendship, our professional relationship, and our respective positions within Starfleet?” 

Jim gave a quiet huff of laughter. “That – would help, actually, yes. Because this suddenly feels quite awkward.” 

“Very well. Then that is the approach we shall take. How would you like to proceed?” 

“Well,” Jim cleared his throat, “the first time, you asked me to -”  

Spock blinked. “The first time?” 

Jim shifted. “The first time we were on the shore leave planet you appeared to me too.”  

“That was two years ago.”  

“Yes.”  

Spock's face froze, eyes wide with realisation. “You have felt - since then?” 

“Yes. But it wasn’t conscious. I didn’t know how I felt until –” he broke off.  

“Until?” 

“Until you – the image of you on the planet - asked me to kiss you. Then I realised – my mind was giving what I didn’t even know I wanted. You. A version of you who wanted to touch and be touched. Who wanted to love and be loved. And I’m well aware of how not self-aware this makes me sound, but until that moment – I didn’t realise how much I felt for you.” 

“That was two years ago. “ 

Kirk took a breath. “I understand if this makes you uncomfortable. I really do. You need to know I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable, or act on this at all. I’ll get over it, given - enough time. Just stay on the Enterprise, please.” 

Spock stared at him in disbelief. “Have you never wondered why I have sought to minimise my time on the shore leave planet? Why I have volunteered for every bridge shift that would keep me on the Enterprise?”  

“I thought you didn't like the idea of the planet. It’s never been easy to persuade you to take leave.”  

“I did not stay on the shore leave planet on either occasion because I knew what my subconscious would show me.” 

“What?” 

“You.” Spock’s voice was quiet, but intense. “A version of you that desired my touch, that would allow me to touch you and be touched in turn. A version of you that would welcome my affection, my passion; would greet it with a fervour that matched my own. A version of you – that loved me. Above all others.”  

Jim inhaled sharply. “Spock – I am that version of me. I always have been.”  

They stared at each other in the sudden, heavy silence. In the quiet, their breathing sounded unnaturally loud. 

Spock said slowly, “Jim – when I attempted to relieve your tension, you were profoundly uncomfortable with my touch. That is not indicative of -” 

Jim gave a huff of almost laughter. “I was profoundly uncomfortable with the thought that if you carried on touching me, if I let myself enjoy it, I’d never want you to stop, consequences be damned. Of course, I wanted you to touch me. I love it when you touch me. Haven’t you noticed?” 

“You are a very tactile individual. I did not think – it was exclusive to me.” 

“It was. It is.” 

“I have allowed you liberties of touch that I would not allow from another.”  

“I know. I hoped - it was exclusive to me.”  

“It was. It is.”  

Jim nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Spock’s. “So, can I - take another liberty?” 

Spock swallowed visibly. “You may.”  

Jim stepped forward on legs that were suddenly a little unsteady. He raised a hand, brought it to Spock’s face, caressed his cheekbone with his thumb. Spock turned his head almost infinitesimally to bring more of his skin in contact with Jim’s hand, and Jim felt his heartbeat in his throat like he’d been running for his life.  

Spock bent his head, and his eyelids fluttered closed. Jim had about a second to think oh god, this is really happening, I'm kissing Spock, before their lips connected and he could sense nothing over the beating of his heart and the cacophony in his head.  

When he drew back, breathless and barely remembering his own name, Spock was staring at him in a kind of wordless shock. Jim stammered, “Was, er, was that okay?” 

Slowly, wide-eyed, Spock shook his head. Jim swallowed, “Sorry - did you just mean we should -” 

Spock’s interruption was quick, but gentle. “It was not okay, it was -” he hesitated, and Jim watched in anxious curiosity as Spock’s gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes, “- fascinating.”  

Jim stared, and at his nonplussed face, a tiny but distinct smile formed on Spock’s. Jim gave a huff of quiet laughter. “I think I can do better.”  

Jim thought he would remember the look of quiet adoration on Spock’s face as he spoke for the rest of his days. “I think I would like that.”  

Almost giddy with joy, Jim leaned forward, with more purpose this time, and as he did so, Spock’s arms went around him, pulling him closer, just as a harsh chime split the air, and Uhura’s voice said, “Bridge to Captain Kirk.” 

Kirk gave a groan of frustration, as Spock’s arms tightened reflexively around him, before releasing. He took a reluctant step back. “Hold that thought.” 

He stepped across to the desk and flicked the comm switch. “Kirk here.” Please be quick, please be quick.   

“Captain, I’ve got Admiral Nogura on the line for you.”  

Dammit  Kirk slumped. “Okay, Uhura. I’ll - take it in my quarters.”  

He disconnected the call, and turned to Spock. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” 

“I will be waiting.” 

“Here?” 

“Unless you would prefer to resume our activities on the bridge?” The dark eyes were shining. 

Kirk grinned. “Oh, I see. Sassing the Captain now, are we?”  

“No. I am ‘sassing’ my ashayam.”  

Kirk had no idea what the word meant, but the tone of Spock’s voice, and the sound of it, caught his breath in his throat. He stepped forward and kissed Spock again, quick and possessive, because he could. “Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” 

* 

James Kirk stared at the viewscreen as Nogura’s image faded. He took a deep breath, then another, fighting the urge to put his fist through the damn screen, trying to control the shaking of his hands.  

The door chime sounded, and he snapped, “Come in.” 

McCoy entered warily, eyes on the floor, hands raised, “Don’t bite my head off, I’m leaving, I just wanted to -” he raised his head, then lowered his arms. “Where’s Spock?” 

“In his quarters, what do you want?” 

“Why isn’t he here?” McCoy stared at him accusingly. “What did you do?” 

Kirk rose, made to pass him. “Unless this is life or death, Doctor, I don’t have time.” 

McCoy caught his arm. “Now hold on just a damn minute. You two left that rec room with the whole crew thinking they all knew what was about to happen next, and I came to assure you both that you’ve got their blessing, and then some, and instead I find you here, alone, looking ready to murder someone. What’s going on?” 

Kirk stared over McCoy’s shoulder at the door. “I need to speak to Spock.” 

“Either you tell me what about, or I’m coming with you. I’m not having you rushing off half-cocked in this kind of mood.”  

Kirk shook off his arm, turned on his friend. “This whole damn thing is your fault. Without your scheming we would have been able to fly under the radar, keep it quiet, but now there’s no chance.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Kirk ran his hand through his hair, releasing a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, resigned. “I just had a call from Nogura. Starfleet has heard about Spock and I. And they don’t like it. I just got a strip torn off me. Conduct unbecoming. Against regulations. Bringing our good names into disrepute. Embarrassing the fleet. Endangering the ship. Pick your objection, because I’ve just heard it.” 

McCoy took a sharp breath. Kirk said, “And he’s reassigning Spock.” 

“ What ?” 

“I fought him. Told him that nothing’s happened between us. Told him that we’re the best command team in the fleet. He wouldn’t hear it. I told him –” he swallowed hard, “I told him I’d go. Take another command.” 

McCoy stared at him in disbelief.  

Kirk said, “No dice. Spock will be gone by next week. And I get to tell him.” 

There was a long silence.  

McCoy said, “God, Jim, I’m sorry.” 

Kirk shook his head. “No, I'm sorry. What I said before – that was unfair. This is – on me. Me and that goddamn picture. This is all me. And now I’ve lost him. And lost the best first officer in the fleet. I have endangered the ship. I’ve wrecked the best command team she could have had.” 

McCoy didn’t reply.  

Kirk said dully, “I need to tell Spock.” He took a step forward. 

“Hold on.” 

“I can’t put this off, he needs to -” 

“Just hold your damn horses!” 

“ What ?” 

“There has to be –“ McCoy’s face was set. “Wait a second.” His face turned thoughtful. “That goddamn picture.” 

“What about it?” 

“And the article.” 

“What about them?” 

McCoy looked at him. “You know that news service that ran it, it’s the biggest in the Federation. You know that, right? It’s not just Starfleet.” 

“I know. Well, I knew it wasn’t just Starfleet, I do read outside news occasionally.”  

McCoy rolled his eyes. “No, you don’t.” He stepped away, began to pace.  

“I don’t see what that has to do with -” 

“People read it. People not in the ‘fleet. People who like good news stories.” 

Kirk stared, uncomprehending.   

McCoy stopped pacing. “You’ve not been following it, have you?” 

“Following what ?” 

“The story.” 

“ What story?” 

McCoy made a noise of frustration. “ You . And Spock. And the ‘fleet. Did you think gossip about you two was just confined to the Enterprise? Or even Starfleet?” 

Kirk looked vaguely horrified. “No wonder Nogura went on about reputational damage.” 

“Nogura said that because he thinks everyone thinks like a Starfleet Admiral. Newsflash: they don’t.” He took a breath. “Jim, your story is popular. Really popular. Like, follow up requests and pick-ups everywhere popular. For a week there, Enterprise romance was the top trending topic on social sites across the quadrant.” 

Kirk gaped. “You’re not serious?” 

“Give me strength. You really don’t read outside Starfleet, do you?” 

“I’m busy .” 

“Whatever, look, my point is this: people liked the story. They want to know what happens next. And what happens next is Starfleet, coming the big bad, and splitting up our star crossed lovers.” 

“We’re not -” 

“ The point is , for an organisation looking to improve its popularity, when people find out they’re deliberately splitting you up? That is the kind of publicity they definitely don’t need.” 

There was a silence, then Kirk barked a brief laugh. “Bless you, Bones. Even assuming that’s true, which I really doubt, do you honestly think Nogura cares about public opinion?” 

“Of course he doesn’t, but you know who does? The top brass.”  

McCoy whirled suddenly, and moved to sit at Kirk’s desk, accessing the computer, and typing quickly, then swore under his breath. “Damn. I don’t have access. Log me in.” He looked at Kirk. “Come on, I’m trying to help you here, you’ve got access to the Academy administrative system, log me in.” 

“The Academy system?” Kirk moved to him with a frown. “What do you want access to that for?” He leaned over and accessed the system.  

“Maybe nothing. I don’t know. But if I’m right...” he tailed off, and Kirk gave a sigh.  

“Bones, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but I’m going to -” 

“Ha!” McCoy turned to him with a triumphant grin. “I knew it. Never tell me I won my psych qualification in a poker game again.”  

Kirk glanced over his shoulder. “What the hell are you looking at admissions data for?”  

“I’m looking to see how the recruitment drive is going.” 

“ Now ?” Kirk straightened. “No. I’m going to talk to Spock.” 

“ Look at the applications. Look at the numbers.” 

“It’s going badly, we had this conversation – wait.” 

“Right. The numbers have picked up. Suddenly, lots of people are interested in going to space. Why is that, do you think?” 

Kirk ran a hand across his face. “Bones, tell me what you’re driving at, right now, or I swear, I will bust you back to Ensign.” 

“The admissions went from flat line to almost off the scale. Two weeks ago.” 

“Well, what does that have to do with -“ Kirk broke off. “Oh, come on.” 

“Yep.” 

“No.” 

“’Fraid so.” 

“It was not that article.” 

“I’m waiting to hear another reason.” 

“Why would anyone read that and apply to the fleet? It was just -” 

“Romance? A luxury resort? Starfleet heroes, exploring the galaxy, saving each other’s lives, day after day, falling in love? Actual, literal, star crossed lovers?” 

Kirk pointed at the doctor. “Say that once more, and I’m relieving you of duty. That is the most ridiculous -”  

“ That is people. That is public opinion. And it’s on your side. I say: use it.”  

“I - how?” 

“Well, I think that journalist owes you a favour.” 

Kirk’s expression darkened. “Absolutely not.” 

McCoy shrugged. “Fine. In that case, off you go to tell Spock he’s leaving the only home he’s known since he ran away from Vulcan. I’ll wait.”  

Kirk shot him a glare.  

“ Or you can ask him to agree to your plan to convince Starfleet that the strict fraternisation regs are what’s keeping recruitment down, and turning public opinion against them. Your call.” 

“Bones, that’s a hell of a long shot.” 

“You spoke to Nogura. Do you have any other shots?” 

There was a long silence. 

“How would I get in touch with her?” 

* 

Captain's quarters, one week later .  

“I can’t believe they’re even considering it. You should have seen Nogura’s face. He’d been played, and he knew it. If he had his way, I’d be scrubbing warp nacelles in space dock.” 

“Nevertheless, the Doctor’s scheme, illogical and unlikely though it was, proved successful. It seems Starfleet command was ultimately more concerned with the preservation of their high recruitment rate and good reputation, than of strict adherence to an outdated policy.” 

“Partially. We were partially successful.” 

“Jim, Starfleet are reconsidering their position on my reassignment, and they are reviewing the fraternisation regulations. That alone is a success.” 

“Well, yes, but – what if they make the wrong call? I can’t bear the thought of you having to leave the Enterprise. Because of me.”  

“It is illogical to fear what has not yet come to pass.” 

“I know. But we’re still the best command team in the fleet. I've loved you for years and it didn’t change that. I don’t know what difference continuing to love you is going to make.” 

Spock gave that tiny smile Jim was coming to adore. “Did you make that argument to the Admiral?” 

Jim laughed quietly. “Strangely enough, no.” He stared across the desk at his second in command, and his face sobered. “It won’t change anything for me, you know. Whatever happens. I want to be with you.” 

Spock’s face softened. “And I, you.” 

Jim smiled at him as the moment lengthened.  

Spock said quietly, “Given our stated desires, perhaps we should – take advantage of the time we have, rather than concern ourselves with a possible future.” 

Jim’s smile widened. “What were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking that you look tense.” 

“I am tense. Waiting to find out if Starfleet is going to ruin your happiness will do that to a person.” 

“Indeed. But as I remain your first officer, I am concerned with your stress levels. I believe my former plan to relieve tension may prove – more successful at a second attempt.” 

Jim’s eyes slid past his first officer, to the bed. “Are you – offering me a massage?” 

“I am.” 

“Is that -” he cleared his throat, “-all you’re offering?” 

“If I said yes, would that influence your decision?” 

“Absolutely not, I was just – curious.” 

“Then you will have to restrain your curiosity until you are more relaxed.”  

For a long moment, Jim stared into those hooded eyes. Then he remembered to breathe. “Well. Let’s - do that then.” He stood, moved around the desk to Spock. 

At his approach, Spock stood, and Kirk raised a hand in a gesture he was starting to very much enjoy. Spock raised his hand in turn, and fitted two fingers against Jim's own. Jim smiled, and stroked their fingers together gently.  

Spock took a slow breath. He held Jim’s gaze and his voice was low, and husky as he said, “The bed, ashayam, if you please. Before we grow – distracted.”  

Jim grinned. “I’m up for a bit of distraction.” 

Spock said evenly, “The purpose of this evening was to ensure you relax. I believe that objective may yet be achieved.” 

Jim swallowed. “Spock, I appreciate your focus on the mission at hand, but I don’t think it's possible for me to be entirely relaxed with you touching me like that, if you take my meaning.” 

“I assure you -” Spock’s hand had moved Jim’s fingertips towards his lips, so he felt the Vulcan’s heated breath as he finished, “- I take your meaning – entirely.” 

Jim stripped off his tunic, and threw himself back on the bed without any further ceremony.  

He felt, rather than saw, Spock’s approach. But this time, instead of standing beside the bed, the mattress dipped with his weight, and Jim felt warm thighs against his own as Spock straddled him.  

He buried his head into the pillow and breathed deeply. Above him, a voice said softly, “This position will allow for greater access to your back.”  

Jim didn’t trust himself to respond. Spock began again. His touch was warm, with slow, gentle strokes, leading to full firmness. Every press of Spock’s talented, sensitive hands drove him into the mattress and he could barely stop himself moving against the sheet. He breathed deeply, thought about shield modulations and warp equations. The distraction was enough to take the edge off, until the heat of Spock’s touch was joined by the press of lips to his shoulder and the exquisitely gentle brush of hair against his neck.  

Jim gasped aloud. Spock’s movement stilled. Jim gathered himself enough to murmur, “Don’t stop. Please.”  

The kissing resumed. Spock’s lips followed the path of his hands, down either side of Jim’s spine towards the curve of his lower back. It was reverent, and erotic, and better than Jim could have dreamed.  

Now he no longer feared Spock’s discovery of his feelings, he allowed slow arousal to pool in his groin and adoration to collect under his skin. Pure relaxation drove out tension, as stress and anxiety fled in the face of skilled manipulation and abiding love.   

* 

USS Enterprise, Bridge, two days later  

It was hard to believe he’d ever thought the crew wouldn’t be on his side. The days since Nogura’s threat to reassign Spock had been an open competition amongst the crew to prove their support. It was sweet, and kind, and getting on Kirk’s nerves.  

Although there wasn’t much that didn’t get on his nerves as the days dragged by with no word from Starfleet. Every day that passed with Spock at his side, in their personal lives as well as professional, was more wonderful than the last. Every dream he’d ever had of the two of them together was surpassed by orders of magnitude by the reality of Spock’s skin against his, of Spock’s love, singing in his mind. It would be an act of unimaginable cruelty to part them.  

But Starfleet didn’t care.  

He sighed.  

In front of him, and unobserved, Sulu and Chekov exchanged a speaking, but not unsympathetic, glance.  

Behind him, Uhura’s console beeped. Kirk tensed, then caught himself, and consciously relaxed. Not every communication was going to be about him and Spock. There was still a ship to run.  

Behind him, Uhura drew a sharp breath. Kirk forced himself not to turn and address her. If there was something he needed to know, she would tell him.  

“Sir?” 

It’s not about that. It could be anything. “Yes, Lieutenant?” 

“Communique from Admiral Nogura’s office, sir.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock stiffen, but he kept his eyes on the science station. Behind him, he heard Uhura rise, step down from her station, and appear next to him. She handed him a padd, but didn’t move.  

He said quietly, “Thank you, Lieutenant.” She visibly shook herself and returned to her station, but he could feel her eyes on him. The atmosphere on the bridge had gone from relaxed to battle tense in the few seconds it had taken her to move.  

There was a noise behind him, and McCoy appeared next to the command chair as if summoned. He didn’t speak, just stared at the viewscreen as if there was something far more interesting on it than a starfield. 

Kirk spared a moment to wonder when he’d come to the bridge, then straightened his stance, and unsealed the message.  

A few seconds ticked by. Next to him, McCoy shifted. At the science station, Spock hadn’t moved at all.  

Kirk read the message. Read it again. Closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath. Then addressed the silent bridge.  

“Mister Spock, a word with you, if I may?” 

Spock stepped down from the science station, unruffled and calm. Only Kirk was close enough to see the slight tremor in those long fingers as he pulled his hands behind his back. “Yes, Captain?” 

“Admiral Nogura has been kind enough to communicate the result of our appeal against Starfleet’s intention to reassign you. I’m afraid - you are stuck here for the foreseeable future.”  

There was a gasp of relief from the communications station, and an unprofessional whoop of joy from the conn. Kirk ignored them, held Spock’s gaze, saw relief rush in to replace fear in those dark eyes, saw tension drain from the slim shoulders. Aloud, he said, “Thank you, Captain, I am gratified that command has seen fit to review an illogical decision.”  

Kirk smiled at him, knew his heart was in his eyes, and didn’t care. “Yeah. Me too.” 

At his elbow, McCoy said, “Well, thank the heavens they saw sense on that one. Now, what else does it say?” 

“Well, there was one more thing.” All attention on the bridge was riveted on him. No-one was even pretending to work. Some tension crept back into Spock’s stance. “Under public pressure, Starfleet have reviewed their fraternisation regulations. They’ve decided that fraternisation of a personal nature is permitted if a superior officer is willing to attest that to the best of their knowledge, the working relationship of the crewmen confirmed has not been and will not be adversely affected, or if evidence can be provided to this effect.”  

“What evidence would we be required to provide?” Spock’s face was as close to a frown as he ever got.  

Jim grinned at him. “That’s the best bit: none. Admiral Nogura has vouched for us.”  

There was a bark of laughter from McCoy. “I wonder what pressure the brass had to bring to bear to get him to do that. Actually, wait: I don’t care, you’re all approved. We get to keep the band together. Drinks in the rec room this evening, I think.”  

Kirk gave a laugh of sheer joy. “I owe Elizabeth a thank you.” 

“You do not. She violated your privacy.” Spock’s reply was quick.  

“And yet somehow, I can’t be angry at her.” He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Spock. From the thought of the rest of their mission. Together. From the look on Spock’s face, he knew the Vulcan was thinking the same.  

“Well, I would like the record to show that I was right all along.” McCoy’s voice was only slightly smug. “About everything. As usual. You’re welcome. And I’m wasted here.” 

“I don’t know about everything Bones, there was one claim you made we haven’t substantiated.”  

He stood, and stepped down next to his science officer.  

McCoy frowned. “What? Which one?”  

“How the crew would react if I did this.”  

He drew Spock’s unresisting face to his, dark eyes blown wide with surprise, and kissed him.  

*