Chapter Text
Listen, it wasn’t Jim’s fault.
Not only was it his first mission on the Enterprise—just to give you some context, but it had also been his idea; not a sound on the bridge while the crew held their breath to see if his carefully planned leap of faith would be successful, and when it was, well, he was logically very happy. And, sure, it was probably childish and even unprofessional, but pride and self-satisfaction are emotions best handled in small doses and controlled environments; so when Jim found himself in neither, he couldn’t help but high-five Sam in a gesture of brotherly affection. Spock simply happened to be right there, almost in front of him, and it’s true that Vulcans are incredibly reserved and they barely just met but it would be rude to leave him hanging, right? Blatantly ignoring him in that way would be at least disrespectful; so Jim took Spock’s raising hands—which, in hindsight, were maybe meant to shield—as an invitation, and high-fived him too.
This is what Jim would say has happened, anyway. He doesn’t dwell on how, since Spock was retreating, what was supposed to be a collision (two hands propelled by opposing forces, touching for a millisecond at the joining point of their trajectories before bouncing off) got transformed into a weird caress: having already lost its momentum and facing no resistance, it was similar to gently pushing a cushion. Jim wouldn’t acknowledge—not by omission but lack of perception—the touching lasting almost a second; their fingertips smooth and soft against each other, enough to feel the heat between their skins, Jim’s thumb brushing warmly down Spock’s hand, wrist, almost that tender spot where you can sense your pulse—as if they lingered. Then cold again, and the twinkling itch that comes from loss. None of that. But Jim wasn’t completely unaware, and he did notice Sam’s eyes opening warningly at him, even if too late. He noticed Uhura’s pitiful grimace, and Ortegas’ chaotic smirk, and captain Pike’s vain attempt at caution, and the general apprehension of the crew. He definitely noticed Spock’s momentary bafflement and unsuccessfully tried to name his expression as something different than ‘flustered’, so Jim already suspected something was wrong. When Spock regains control of his hand and does his best to leave the bridge in an unemotional manner, never looking back, Jim knows he has fucked up.
Completely at a loss and trying to ignore Ortegas’ snicker and Sam’s second-hand embarrassment, Jim turns to Pike.
“What—what did I do?”
Pike chuckles in that way that’s more like an affectionate exhalation through the nose, and gestures him to come closer. Oh, no. He has insulted Spock. He has somehow insulted his Vulcan culture so bad on his first day that the captain is going to have a heart-to-heart with him in front of everyone and his brother, which is something great to add to your resumé, and now he will have to work twice as hard to get closer to him.
He doesn’t even have a rebuttal because he can’t justify his (admittedly silly) actions, but no one had warned him against touching Spock specifically (except maybe his own common sense) and now he feels stupid and—
“Lieutenant—Jim, give me your hand” Pike asks, offering him his hand facing upwards, as if asking him for a dance.
“Sir?”
Pike nods and Jim awkwardly places his hand over his, palm to palm. This time he’s hyperaware of the warmth and the dozens of eyes scrutinising them, and when Pike slides his fingers until only their index and middle ones are touching Jim is certain there’s something he’s not seeing.
“Do you know what this gesture means in Vulcan culture?”
“I’m guessing not a handshake” Jim ventures, preparing for the worst, and Pike smiles playfully.
“Closer to a kiss.”
Great. Just—great. Jim closes his eyes in defeat and swears mentally, now making sure to control his exterior appearance, because what if this is even worse? He’s so embarrassed for his accidental lack of decorum that he can only be grateful that the captain seems more amused than outraged, and honestly hopes that people—and, more importantly, Spock—will take him for a fool rather than a creep. The general vibe from the rest of the bridge crew looks like suppressed laughter, so that’s probably good.
“Just this” Pike adds, pointing with his head to their lovingly aligned index and middle fingers, before Jim can apologise, “is already a kiss. A—peck, you know? But you went there with your whole hand. Full contact. So much skin to skin, so much stroking…” someone snorts out loud here, “that was making out, lieutenant. That had tongue.”
So Jim relaxes his shoulders and lets himself be teased, an abashed smile curving the corners of his mouth, and then bows stoically.
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again” he promises, and Pike nods. “I’ll, uh, better go apologise.”
“Dismissed.”
Jim exits the bridge with the general demeanour of a teenager sent to see the principal but without the excitement of having earned your class’s respect, and he’s so focused on maintaining his dignity that he has already passed a couple of corridors before realising he doesn’t know where he is going. Would Spock have gone to the science lab? He does seem like the kind of person who likes to keep his work up to date. That’s logical. But maybe he had rather gone to the mess hall, the recreation room? Is that too human? There would be people there, he could ask. Or maybe he had simply gone back to his quarters, to have a moment to himself.
Man. It makes him a bit sad that he doesn’t know Spock at all, if today is proof of anything. But then again Jim is nothing if not an optimist, the full package of competence, confidence, and luck, so he turns on his feet and makes a beeline for Spock’s quarters. Call it a hunch.
“Mr Spock—Commander?” he asks, knocking firmly but politely on his door. “I’m James Kirk, I’ve come to apologise.”
“Come in.”
Jim enters the room trying to take it all in at first glance, his shoulders squared and his eyes gentle, and for such an (allegedly) computer-brain as Spock claims to have the eclectic décor is quite nice. Quite—personal. Jim represses the urge to take a closer look and ask about this and that item because honestly this peek into his privacy feels more intimate than the hand thing, but at least this time he’s been invited. Spock is waiting for him in the middle of everything, like the eye of the storm—a weird spot to be caught by an unexpected visit; and he doesn’t look mad (or upset, or pleased, or guarded) but he doesn’t look anything, or at least not something that Jim can pinpoint (yet. He hopes to learn in the future). Pike can read him, though, so it can be done. He can crawl his way into that fortified Vulcan core.
“Nice quarters” Jim says, genuinely, and Spock raises an eyebrow in what Jim interprets to be a silent thank you. “So, um. I just learned that I overstepped badly back there and I just wanted to say I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I accept your apology, lieutenant. It is alright.”
“So we’re okay?”
Spock looks slightly confused.
“If you mean if your rank or position in this ship has been affected, then no, your reputation is unharmed.”
“No, I mean—” Jim chuckles, “I mean our working relationship. I’d like to be” he ponders saying ‘on good terms’, which sounds more professional, but ends up taking the five-year-old at playground approach, “friends.”
“Friendship is not required for the correct functioning of the ship” Spock says, as if reassuring him that he shouldn’t worry about that; and Jim can tell he’s not being rude or dismissive, but there is a tinge of awkwardness in his voice around certain words.
“It’s nicer, though. Better for productivity.”
“It is illogical to assume you can develop the necessary intimacy and affection humans need to form a friendship with the 430 people working aboard this ship, lieutenant.”
“Well, not the whole crew, but—if it’s indifferent to you, Mr Spock, I’d like to try. It’s important to me.”
Spock takes a moment to frown to himself while trying to decode whatever this is into ones and zeroes and Jim would swear that subtle colouring on his cheeks is what a Vulcan blush looks like, but he waits patiently. Spock’s tall figure towers above his own human anxieties, carefully buried underneath his impassive and distant manner—he would call it ‘compartmentalise’, and as soon as one side wins and he regains control over his bloodstream he focuses back on Jim.
“If it is so, then rest assured. I admit I was startled at that moment, but there is no harm done.”
Jim smiles, satisfied.
“Humans are… tactile” Spock adds. “Logically, living among them something like this is bound to happen from time to time, and I am prepared for the eventuality.”
“Yeah, that makes sense” Jim muses to himself, shifting his weight to his left foot. “Like, I imagine if I lived among people that high-fived by kissing you on the mouth I’d be pretty shocked too, not gonna lie” he continues, and Spock does the Vulcan equivalent of a snort. It’s all about the empathy. “Anyway, I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“I appreciate that, lieutenant.”
Jim nods politely, ready to leave, but then. You know, he’s already here. And it’s not—it’s nothing he can’t ask at any other time, with other people present; it’s nothing urgent, or private, or important. But he’s already here.
“You like chess?” Jim finally tries, as if he hasn’t seen Spock playing a couple of times already.
“I do enjoy it, yes. I assume you also play.”
“And I’m extremely good at it.”
Spock smirks, this time for real, a slight upwards curve in the horizontal line that is his mouth; and there’s a new playfulness about him.
“A bold statement.”
Jim shrugs, nonchalant.
“Would you be up for a game sometime?”
“That would be acceptable.”
“Cool” Jim closes the deal, grinning broadly. “I, uh, I’ll leave then.” And he’s so nervous for some reason that he finds himself on the verge of winking or even finger-gunning Spock, which in the end he fortunately doesn’t; so he bows a little again, formally, and turns to leave.
Then, when he’s already out of the room, and low enough that he can’t be sure if Spock is talking to himself or if Jim’s meant to hear,
“Not a bad ‘high-five’, in any case.”