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Jim hated this. He hated diplomatic dinners, he hated his dress uniform, he hated having to play Starfleet’s Golden Boy. And yet here he was, mingling like a son of bitch amongst a crowd of Terrans and aliens alike at the Federation’s latest frivolous convention. The briefing Uhura had handed him before beam-down had mentioned the usual “burgeoning interplanetary connections” and “an apportionment of diverse knowledge and peoples,” but none of it really meant anything. At this point, Jim could probably quit captaining and become a full-time Starfleet copywriter, the never-ending drivel drilled into his head after hundreds of meetings, banquets, or assemblies like this one.
Despite the air of superficiality, Jim knew it was important work. Not every aspect of his job could be space shootouts and rescue missions. Somehow, after years of disrespecting authority, Jim actually did believe in what the Federation stood for. Sitting through the politics of it all was damned annoying, but it was necessary if they were going to be helping people.
An hour prior, Jim had entered the banquet hall flanked by Spock, who was now dutifully socializing with Starfleet’s various “honored guests.” Jim was pretty sure they told everyone they were an honored guest. He couldn’t directly see his First Officer through the crowd, but it was comforting to know he was there, nonetheless. He had no idea how Spock was so good at the whole politics thing, he felt like a fish out of water compared to his easy connections to conflicts sectors away from anywhere he’d ever visited and the scientific nuances he wove throughout his conversations.
God, he was so lucky to have his crew. He was lucky to have Spock. Jim shook his head as if to rid the thought from his brain out of pure force of will. Now (or really ever) was not the time to be internally singing Spock’s accolades like some sort of love-sick teenager.
Jim wasn’t quite sure when his admiration for his First Officer turned from pure professional respect to something a tad bit more. A lot bit more. He was pretty sure that if he told the man that he was during the Narada incident that Spock would become as important to him as he was now, the younger version of himself would’ve laughed in his face. No matter what Spock Prime had said on Delta Vega.
But as their mission into the black progressed and he and Spock grew closer, Jim would be remiss to claim that the older version of his XO was mistaken as to their “legendary friendship.” It would be a damn shame to go and mess it up now with his feelings.
But there were days when a glance across the bridge was held for a little too long or their chess games held an undefinable tension, and Jim thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in his regard. But then the moment would pass, a red alert interrupting silent camaraderie or an assurance that Jim was being “highly illogical,” and he knew he was kidding himself. He was trying to see something that wasn’t there.
It wasn’t that Jim wasn’t satisfied with their relationship. Being friends with Spock was fucking awesome. Be that as it may, Jim Kirk had been afflicted with an undeniable nagging voice all his life, demanding him to achieve greatness, telling him he was destined for more. But he wouldn’t, and he couldn’t. Not with this.
Unfortunately, his stupid crush and his stupid inability to do anything about it led to Jim reflexively turning down chances at someone else left and right. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, at first. Then one night, over a bottle of whiskey, Bones sat him down and made fun of his dry spell and he was more than a little privately embarrassed. They laughed it off, Jim claiming that maybe he had just raised his standards from the ground level of “anything with working parts and capacity to consent.” He refrained from mentioning that his new standards happened to fall into an unfortunate category of “tall, dark, and named Spock.”
Despite his newfound, self-imposed abstinence, other people didn’t always quite catch the memo. Jim did have a reputation after all, despite its hyperbolization over the years.
Maybe standing in a room full of interesting and beautiful people who all saw him as some sort of hero might’ve been a dream come true when he was younger, but right now Jim was just uncomfortable. There was only one person in the room whose opinion of Jim actually mattered to him.
Which meant that the handsome human delegate eying him up and down really wasn’t as exciting as it maybe should've been.
The man wore a cream suit, displaying the insignia of some ‘Fleet branch Jim really should’ve known the name of, and was beginning to stride confidently towards him. He pulled on his best captain smile and tried to look as inviting as possible when all he really wanted to do was walk out of the building and go to bed.
“Captain Kirk! How lucky I am to be running into one of our finest. Would you perhaps like to join me for a new drink?”
His current concoction, almost empty and not nearly as alcoholic as he would’ve liked had been left neglected in his hand. “Ah, of course! Thank you, mister…” Jim trailed off.
The man had clearly expected him to know his name, but wore an impish sort of grin when he supplied “Nakache. First Class Fleet Commodore Emir Nakache, Operations Division.”
Ah. That’s where he should’ve known him. In a tangential way, the man’s position afforded him a significantly large amount of power over Jim’s job, and more importantly, his ship.
“My apologies, Commodore! I’m afraid the night has started to get away from me.” Jim saluted and fell into a parade rest at the man’s side as they began to walk towards the bar.
He laughed, “At ease, Captain, no need to worry! Please, call me Emir.” Smiling broadly, he ran a hand across Jim’s upper back, shepherding him into a casual stance. “Tell me, are all ships as exciting as yours? I’ve read the reports, you and your crew seem to have quite the knack for getting yourselves into trouble.”
“I would hope not, si- Emir. While our work is important, it’s dangerous even on the best of days. My crew in particular is quite fond of exploring the unknown, pushing where others are yet to go. I’m lucky they’re all so competent!”
“That sounds like quite the excitement! I’ve never been on active duty myself, if only I had an adept officer such as yourself to show me the universe.”
Jim stiffened. So this was how it was going to be. He wasn’t unused to being hit on at these events (although it wasn’t usually quite so tacky), but the Commodore being his superior officer added a fine layer of complication to the interaction. He just met the man, and yet something in his gut told him that Nakache was not someone he could let down easy without lasting professional repercussions.
“You don’t see enough of the stars on emissary missions? Most would think that sailing from planet to planet for work as distinguished as yours would satisfy a desire to see space.”
“I think you’ll find I’m a man not easily satisfied, Jim.”
The Commodore leered and stared into his eyes. If he wasn’t so affronted by the flagrant misconduct, Jim would’ve commented on the fact that he had not given the man permission to address him by name.
Instead, he feigned a playful smile, “A trait useful in politics, no doubt.”
Nakache ordered them both a drink without so much as a thought to breaking his line of coercion. Andorian whiskey for himself, and Cardassian Sunrise with a little pink umbrella for Jim. The second the Commodore looked the other way, Jim dumped it into the first decorative plant they passed. He would’ve preferred to not be so sober during this conversation, but he wasn’t so dumb as to accept drinks from strange men he didn’t trust.
Nakache’s hand returned to Jim, as they settled into a conversational area of the floor. He should’ve expected it, and yet Jim still flinched at the touch.
“Now Jim, I have a few people left to greet, let them know I was here, you understand, but afterward what do you say you show me a glimpse of that universe of yours? Explore a bit of the cosmos, hmm?”
His grip had tightened and Jim had soundly transitioned from unimpressed annoyance to deep unease. He knew he shouldn’t let himself be intimidated by what was clearly a desk jockey with an over-inflated sense of ego, and yet the power imbalance prevented him from thoroughly cursing him out and leaving on his own, which left Jim with very few options.
Blatant rebuff wasn’t the answer, so he naturally settled on lying. “That’s very kind of you to offer, Emir, but I’m in an exclusive relationship.” (Yeah, right, with his ship, maybe).
“Is that so? I find it hard to believe that the famous Jim Kirk has settled down,” Nakache accused him. The Commodore was fully in his space now, vitriol in his eyes.
“I find it hard to believe, myself, sometimes! I-” Jim laughed nervously.
“Jim, sweetheart, you wouldn’t be deceiving me, hmm? I’d hate to be impolite, but if you were telling the truth, wherever is this partner of yours?”
Suddenly, the grasp on Jim’s arm was firmly ripped away, and the sensation was replaced with the feeling of a familiar hand in his own.
“I am right here.”
★☆★
Vulcans do not experience emotion the same way humans do. Emotional responses have a complicated history and an even more complicated presence within their society. It was a common misconception that they did not feel, a more accurate representation being that they did not turn their feelings into a performance, as many other races were wont to do. But Spock was fairly certain that at this moment, the rules did not apply. He was livid.
At first, it was jealousy. Tonight was far from the first time Spock was forced to bear witness to his captain’s romantic overtures directed at someone else, but that didn’t make it any easier. From across the room, he watched the captain converse easily with a man Spock quickly identified as Commodore Nakache. The Commodore had put his hand on Jim’s back and laughed. Jim smiled.
A part of Spock had selfishly hoped that the days of Jim’s whirlwind romances were gone, replaced by the full weight of captaincy. He was able to recognize that humans required…companionship, most species do, and yet a foolish voice in him shouted that he should be enough. Even if their friendship didn’t fulfill all Jim needed, Spock would be more than willing to meet his every desire, if only he would ask. But Jim hasn’t and he wouldn’t, so Spock was reduced to watching from the sidelines as he met his needs elsewhere.
It was due to this mindset and the determination to not overstep that it took so long for Spock to realize that something was wrong. Spock had seen Jim be hit on many, many times, and he knew what Jim’s response should have looked like. To the eye of someone who cared just a little less, Jim looked just fine, if not a tad displeased with his drink. To Spock, his reactions were too slow, his smiles too fake, and his movements too rigid. He wanted to leave, but for some reason, couldn’t. The Commodore grabbing his arm just a bit too tight was all it took for Spock to stalk his way to their position.
He was seeing red. The Commodore was beyond overstepping his bounds, how dare he not see it.
Approaching from behind Jim, Spock was able to catch the back half of their conversation.
“-show me a glimpse of that universe of yours? Explore a bit of the cosmos, hmm?”
“That’s very kind of you to offer, Emir, but I’m in an exclusive relationship.”
“Is that so? I find it hard to believe that the famous Jim Kirk has settled down,”
“I find it hard to believe, myself, sometimes! I-”.
“Jim, sweetheart, you wouldn’t be deceiving me, hmm? I’d hate to be impolite, but if you were telling the truth, wherever is this partner of yours?”
Spock could play this game. He wretched the Commodore’s hand off of Jim and laced his own between Jim’s. “I am right here.”
Jim startled and openly stared at the taller man, “Spock!” He was genuinely beaming now, and through the touch came a steady stream of reliefreliefreliefthankyouthankyouthankyou.
★☆★
Jim knew he was wrong in thinking so, but at that moment he felt that he had never been so glad to see Spock in his life. Nakache’s face screwed into an unattractive facsimile as the pair watched him go through a series of emotions; shock, anger, disappointment, realization.
“Commander Spock? You’re dating Commander Spock? Seriously?”
Spock answered for Jim, seething, “Affirmative, Commodore. If you are quite finished harassing he who is mine, we’ll be taking our leave.”
Nakache looked like he was trying to choose between being personally affronted, laughing, or running away out of fear. He was losing his shit, as was Jim. “I- Yes. My apologies, Commander, I was unaware-” Spock didn’t even let Nakache finish before he was turning around with what Jim could’ve sworn was a growl, leading him away.
As the pair walked through the crowd to the exit, Spock had snaked his arm around the small of Jim’s back, pulling him close. Jim heard multiple noises indicating the snaps of holos, the brass was going to lose their minds, but he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care. He likely would at a later date, but at the moment he was fully preoccupied with what the fuck just happened.
The second they reached the outside, out of anyone’s sight, Spock immediately released him and took four steps back, his posture wrought with blatant anxiety. “Captain, are you alright? Are you hurt? I extend my greatest apologies for my misconduct. I should not have interfered, it was inappropriate, I took it too far, I will transfer ships, I-”
He was rambling and Jim could barely process half of what he was saying. He was so far away. He shouldn't be that far away, not after that, not ever. Jim covered the distance in two quick strides and wrapped his arms around his first officer’s torso, burying his head in his chest. It took a moment for Spock to recover from his shock and put his own arms down, settling into the touch once he realized it was being given. “Captain?”
Jim’s voice was muffled, “I have about a million things to say, but I’m going to start with thank you.”
Spock spoke softly, reverential, “I find I have the time to listen, if you’d let me. Very honestly, we departed much sooner than expected. I would not be opposed to using the time to talk, instead.”
Jim nodded his acquiescence and the two made their way to a stone bench, nestled amongst the reception building’s garden. Jim’s head was spinning, he had forgotten what planet they were even on, and two moons shone bright light into the otherwise dim gardens.
“Nakache is an asshole.”
“I concur.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that. To- to do that. I swear I’m not useless most of the time, I just didn’t know what it would mean for the Enterprise if ‘no’ wasn’t the answer he was looking for.”
“Jim. You have no need to apologize. The Commodore was abusing his position of power, he had no right to do so, and you are not expected to have to solve everything on your own.”
“God, I just hate being intimidated. I hate that it worked! If you hadn’t been there…”
“I was.”
They stared at each other for a moment, an unspoken promise that he would always be there, hung in the air.
“So I’m yours now, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. Goddamnit, Jim, now was not the time to be making jokes.
“If you would allow it.”
Oh.
Spock looked so earnest, peering up at him from dark eyelashes.
“Spock, I would give all of the stars in the sky to be yours.”
“May I kiss you?”
“Please.”
Jim Kirk had spent longer than he was willing to admit imagining what kissing Spock would be like, but there was no way he could have anticipated this. It began chaste, nervous as if Spock was afraid Jim would suddenly bolt, like some sort of spooked animal. But Jim wanted this, damnnit, he had wanted it for years, and he would be damned if he was going to let Spock carry on living in hesitancy for one more moment. Jim was here to stay and he needed Spock to know it like he needed air to breathe. He grasped the back of Spock’s head and smashed his face even farther into his own, hands tangling in soft, black hair. It was as though, with this action, Jim had given Spock permission to act of his own volition for the first time. Years upon years of yearning were poured into that kiss. Spock was remembering how to exist again, how to take up space, how to be seen. Everything either of them had ever doubted or second-guessed was being confirmed, and the universe slid into place around them. This was how it was meant to be.