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It was another typical day on the bridge. Spock was sitting next to Uhura, listening carefully to the captain’s instructions for the day. There was to be four people beam down to Barkon V to take some samples of plant life and soil. Spock’s mind was not wandering, but purely focused on the instructions. That was until he looked up from the Padd he was scribbling on.
Jim was sitting in his chair, looking as commanding as ever: back straight, hair perfectly in place, eyes flitting across the room to acknowledge all the hard-working crewmen. They landed on Spock. For the split second their eyes locked, Spock felt a strange feeling in his chest, one he couldn’t place. He made a note to think about it later. The worst part was, Spock wasn’t paying attention anymore. At least, not on what Jim was saying. Ever since Jim’s eyes left his, all Spock could think about was how badly he wanted his captain to look at him again.
Perhaps it was logical to crave admiration from one’s captain, especially when one admired said captain as a leader and, well, friend.
Spock was not going to beam down for the mission, as he had some work to do on board. Jim walked over to him, curious as to why he refused.
“But Mister Spock, you are my first officer. I would like to know what exactly is keeping you from joining me on this mission, even though it may not seem like the most important use of our time to you,” he joked lightly, then signalled to the Padd. “What’s this?”
Jim moved to take the Padd out of Spock’s hand, the one he had been using to note Jim’s instructions. Just as he released it from his grip, Spock felt the captain’s fingers brush gently against his own. This was unexpected. He should not have shivered, however, as this sort of accidental contact was normal. There was that strange feeling in his chest again.
“Just taking some notes, captain,” Spock said, wondering silently why his voice shook slightly.
Jim just raised his eyebrows and turned, walking in the direction of the transporter room.
It was then that Spock let out the breath he had been holding and rose from his chair.
- - -
Nearly an hour later, Spock was surprised to find himself in Sickbay. He wasn’t ill or injured, but rather speaking with Doctor McCoy about his behaviour on the bridge that morning. It turns out, the doctor was the only other person who seemed to notice Spock acting strangely, or at least the only one who confronted him about it.
“Do you have any idea why you started feeling this way?” McCoy said in response to Spock’s descriptions of his physical symptoms.
Spock considered this. “I’ve never felt anything like this before,” he started. “There is no logical reason why these symptoms came about when they did,”
Bones smiled. The sort of smile he couldn’t help doing when he found some kind of leverage over Spock.
“Have you considered, Spock, that this may be coming from emotion,” he started.
Spock sat still on the biobed, fixing his gaze to the floor.
“No, doctor,” he said, quieter than usual.
“Well then,” McCoy took a step back, triumph in his voice. “As your doctor, may I suggest that these physical symptoms you are displaying are perhaps signs of romantic inclinations towards someone?”
At that, Spock stood up abruptly.
“Doctor McCoy, I came to you in order to confide in a trusted co-worker, and now you’re telling me I am developing an infatuation with Captain Kirk rather than helping me,” he shouted.
“I didn’t say it was Kirk,” Bones was grinning even wider now. “But if you insist-,”
“No!” Spock shouted again unexpectedly.
He could feel his face getting warmer. That was illogical. This was all illogical. He didn’t have a crush on the captain like some adolescent. Bones was just bothering him because that’s who he was. But then again, this was the best theory presented to him so far.
He sighed, “Suppose it is the captain,” he said.
Bones chuckled. Spock shot him a glare.
“How would I go about stopping, um, this,” he said, avoiding McCoy’s gaze.
“Well Spock, I’m no expert, but these feelings are not something you can avoid,” he paused. “The only way to relieve yourself of them is to tell the captain, the worst that will happen is he doesn’t share them, and you go back to being purely co-workers,”
“I don’t think that it is wise-,”
“Spock,” McCoy joined Spock on the biobed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know this is scary, especially for you, but you can’t resist it, or it will just get worse,”
Spock sighed and stood up.
“Thank you doctor, you’ve been most informative,” he said and left as fast as he could.
Spock wandered the halls for a while, trying to regain control of his breath. He would meditate later and try to sort out the confusing mix of, ugh, emotions.
- - -
The next morning on the bridge, Spock is content to find that he feels like nothing has changed. The feeling does not last long. Jim enters the room, and Spock feels the same tightness in his chest and the drop of his stomach. He hopes the expression on his face doesn’t give it away.
“Are you alright Mister Spock?”
Too late. Jim noticed something was off immediately. He strode over to Spock and put his hand on the armrest of his chair. He was far too close. Spock looked away, hoping his face wasn’t turning green with blush.
“Yes sir,” he mumbled. And then without thinking, “Could you perhaps give me some personal space,”
Jim looked slightly taken aback, but acquiesced and went to his own chair.
The day went on like that. Spock would be doing his job and minding his own business, but the moment the captain interacted with him it was like a switch was flipped, and Spock would act completely irrationally. He was incredibly irritated whenever this happened. It was highly illogical. Perhaps Bones was right about it being something emotional, and that’s why the whole thing was so absurd.
When the shift was coming to an end, and Spock rose from his chair and prepared to leave, Jim made a beeline for him.
“Spock, I know there’s something wrong,” he said, a genuine look of concern in his eyes.
Still not meeting his gaze, Spock decided to face what he had been avoiding all day.
“My apologies, sir, but I have been feeling rather unwell lately,” his face was heating up again.
“I see,” Jim considered this. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, now placing his hand on Spock’s shoulder, sending chills through his arm.
“Sir, I hope this does not sound, well, unkind, but I would prefer it if you left me alone for the time being,” Spock answered, pushing Jim’s hand off his shoulder. The feeling it caused him was an unfamiliar one which worried Spock.
“Ah,” Jim said simply. “Well, have a good evening,”
But Spock was already in the lift, heart pounding and head spinning.
- - -
It hadn’t been long when Spock returned to his quarters, ready to settle into a long and deep meditation to rid himself of all this strangeness. McCoy had to have been wrong. The feelings he felt towards Jim weren’t romantic, they couldn’t be. He tried to dismiss the thoughts entirely. But then he remembers Jim’s wide smile and his warm eyes...
No. That was just pure admiration. Jim was his captain; his friend. All the feelings of fondness he may be able to identify were purely platonic.
But then again, feelings were not Spock’s forte.
Seating himself comfortably on the floor, Spock tried to regulate his thoughts and control his breath. He acknowledged the flurry in his mind and began to fill his lungs with air: in, out. In, out.
Some quiet moments later, Spock was abruptly disturbed by the doors of his quarters sliding open. No one had announced their presence. Spock opened his eyes and frowned.
“Captain,” Spock said, jumping up.
His heart was beating against his ribs like before. Spock stepped forward, trying to ignore those irritating sensations pulsing through his body.
“Spock, I’m so sorry to intrude, but I can’t help but feel that something is terribly wrong,” there was that concern again.
“Captain, I-,”
“Spock, we’re off duty, there’s no need for titles,” Jim said softly. “You can talk to me,”
Spock looked down. I am in control of my emotions; I am in control of my emoti-
There was a hand on his shoulder.
“Spock,” Jim was quiet.
Spock could feel the warmth of the captain's skin, of his calm, considerate gaze. If Spock felt strange before, he certainly felt like he was coming down with some emotional virus now. His stomach was turning, his legs went soft, and his head was spinning.
Before he could say or do anything, Jim’s hand was brushing against his own, just like the previous morning. But this time, the contact continued. Jim meant it. He continued to run his fingers along Spock’s, eventually stopping and pressing his index and middle finger into the other man’s, emitting a very quiet gasp.
Spock had completely stopped thinking. The captain was kissing him: the Vulcan way. But why? And why was Spock reciprocating, leaning his fingers in as well as his whole body. Jim tipped Spock’s chin up to finally look him in the eyes.
And oh, what eyes they were. Spock finally got a good look at him after avoiding his features for so long. He couldn’t stare for too long, because Jim was leaning in, planting a gentle kiss to Spock’s cheek. It made his heart ache. But then Jim was kissing his lips, softly and sweetly, entwining his hand in Spock’s, causing the man to whimper ever so slightly. They broke apart.
Jim was smiling again, running a hand down Spock’s face. Spock had no idea what had just occurred, but he knew he was not opposed to it.
Bones would be delighted.