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Uhura kept staring at him. It made him uncomfortable, even as he attempted not to look in her direction. Spock could feel every time her eyes settled on him. Worse was that when he looked back she continued to stare, a small smile on her lips and a slight raise to her eyebrows. Worse still was when she would glance quickly at Kirk and raise her eyebrows higher.
He wasn’t sure what she was trying to communicate. He didn’t like it.
“Whatever anyone told you, it wasn’t cheating,” Kirk said as he took a sip from his glass. “At least not when I did it.”
“That was you?” Uhura asked, incredulous. It got her eyes off of Spock for a moment. “You cheated on the Kobayashi Maru?”
Kirk made a noncommittal noise. “I changed the parameters of the test.”
“Which is now explicitly against the rules.” Uhura sat back in her chair. “I wondered who had been stupid enough to need that explicitly stated.”
“Not stupid,” Kirk insisted. “Creative problem-solving.”
Spock looked back down at his hand again. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at it, to stop stroking over his palm with his other thumb and consider what it had felt like to shake Kirk’s hand. He’d touched other people, familiar pats with Pike and Ortegas’ arm around his shoulders and Chapel’s hands at his face, but no one had grabbed his hand like that except T’Pring.
Maybe that was why Uhura kept watching him. He had behaved abnormally and she was trying to figure out why. Perhaps she knew the significance of the gesture for Vulcans and was shocked by the display.
But Kirk had held a hand out like he expected it. He had looked at Spock like it was a challenge. And Spock, newly experimenting with what it meant to feel, had decided to rise to it.
When he looked up from his hands Uhura was still watching him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew something he didn’t.
“Alright, your turn,” Kirk leaned forward on the table conspiratorially. “Tell me something embarrassing about Sam.”
Uhura leaned back in her chair and smiled. “There’s a great one about him on Betazed III. Spock was there, why don’t you tell it?”
Spock was startled to realize he hadn’t spoken in a while. “Of course. Sam was apparently not paying attention to the part of the briefing where Betazoid telepathy was explained--”
“Oh, no,” Kirk said with a gasp. His excited smile didn’t leave for the rest of the story and Spock reveled in having his full attention.
It was two more drinks before Uhura stood, straightened out her uniform, and started to gather her glasses from the table. “Thank you for the company, Kirk, but it’s time for me to turn in.”
“Come on, Uhura, it’s only 2130,” Kirk protested.
“And I have a very good book to read before I go to sleep,” Uhura said with a placating smile. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”
“Goodnight, Ensign,” Spock said as he started to leave. “I should also retire.”
“No, Spock!” Kirk laid one hand on Spock’s arm to stop him from standing up. “One more thing, please?”
“I have exhausted my stories about your brother.”
Kirk laughed. “Not what I was going to suggest.”
“Very well,” Spock settled back into his seat. “What is it?”
“Do you play chess, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked, half a smile on his lips.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You would not enjoy the game.”
“You sure?” Kirk leaned forward on the table, glass hanging loosely in one hand. The other was still holding Spock’s arm.
“I’ve been informed that I am frustrating to play with.”
“Sore loser?” Kirk teased.
“I have not lost a game of chess since joining Starfleet.”
Kirk did smile then, something smug and coy. He leaned forward as if he were sharing some secret. “I haven’t lost a game since seventh grade.”
Spock looked at him appraisingly, wondering if he needed to update his personal evaluation of Kirk; he was either smarter than Spock had expected, or a liar. Either way, he had bothered to issue a challenge. “I’ll grab a board.”
Kirk's smile turned joyful and victorious. “I’ll play black.”
***
“Maybe we should have gotten a timer,” Kirk said two hours later.
“Do you require the pressure of time to perform well?”
Kirk laughed. “Not at all. I just thought it might speed things along.”
“Chess grandmaster tournaments can last upwards of eight hours.”
“Is that what this is?”
“Not quite.” Spock moved a rook out from behind one of Kirk’s pawns in order to take a bishop.
Someone audibly winced. Spock turned to notice a small crowd, ten or so ensigns he had met in passing, watching them from a nearby table. He tensed a little before looking back at the board.
“Problem, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked. He raised his glass and took a slow drink from it.
“I did not anticipate spectators.”
“When you put on a show…” Kirk drawled as he moved his queen to take one of Spock’s knights. The crowd murmured.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
Kirk tried to put on an innocent expression. Spock didn’t have to be good at reading emotion to know it was fake. “If you don’t like the attention, Spock, next time we can play in my quarters.” Kirk followed this entirely logical invitation with a wink, which turned it into something sparking and dangerous that settled oddly in the pit of Spock’s stomach. He found himself wishing no one noticed.
An hour later, the crowd around them had only grown despite the fact that shifts had changed and most of the people gathered should be asleep. Kirk’s bishop ended up in a direct line to Spock’s king. “Check, Mr. Spock.”
Spock moved his king up a level, where Kirk’s king had already been subtly pinned by two of his other pieces. “Checkmate, Mr. Kirk.”
Kirk’s jaw dropped slightly in disbelief and his eyes narrowed as they scanned to board in front of him. Eventually, his expression shifted into a smile and he looked at Spock. “You clever bastard.”
When Kirk reached up and knocked down his king, the spectators erupted into cheers.
Despite his fallen king, Kirk leaned back, assuming the confident posture and expression of a victor. “I’ll get you next time, Spock.”
They made easy conversation as they gathered up the game. Each move, each glance, carried a weight Spock was reluctant to acknowledge. Only when there were no pieces or glasses left to return to their proper places did either of them make any mention of leaving.
“You’re heading back to the Farragut tonight?” Spock asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Kirk replied, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance. He led the way out of the mess hall.
“The transporter platform is through there,” Spock gestured to the nearby door, and for a moment, he regretted his decision to point it out. He wished for an excuse to delay their inevitable parting.
“Right.” Before he could open the door, though, Kirk turned back around. The bright lighting of the hallway seemed to make his expressions more stark, more open. Something vulnerable was clearly on display. “I’m not ready to leave yet. I’ll walk you to your quarters?”
Spock’s heart skipped a beat. “I assure you, I can navigate the ship on my own.”
“I know,” Kirk said, his voice almost shy, yet filled with a hint of determination. “I want to.”
“Ah.” Some surge of emotion conflicted in Spock’s gut. He wasn’t sure what to think, beyond the fact that he wanted Kirk to stay close to him. He found some solace in the simplicity of that feeling. “Follow me, then.”
Despite the late hour and the empty halls, Spock found himself walking slowly toward his room, trying to get just a little more conversation in before turning in. Kirk seemed to be in no hurry either.
Finally, and despite his best efforts, they arrived at Spock’s door. He paused and turned around to find Kirk half a step behind him. They were close, too close for Spock’s sanity, and yet he couldn’t find it in him to step back.
“This you?” Kirk jerked a thumb at the door.
Spock felt suddenly jerked out of his thoughts. “Yes.”
“Well, thank you.”
“What for?”
“The most exciting night I’ve had in a while.”
That couldn’t be true, but Spock struggled to find any reason to refute it. Before he could, Kirk took half a step back and held out his hand. It was only a moment’s hesitation before Spock shook it.
Kirk’s hand shifted in his, and Spock ignored the pang of loss at the thought of him letting go. It was unnecessary anyway; Kirk merely shifted so that instead of pressing palm to palm, Kirk’s hand was wrapped around Spock’s fingers. Kirk’s thumb rubbed his knuckles before he pulled Spock’s hand up to place a single lingering kiss on his fingers.
“Until next time, Mr. Spock.” Kirk’s breath ghosted across Spock’s hand. He could still feel it there when Kirk pulled away.
“Yes,” Spock was caught off guard by the softness in his voice, the way he couldn’t seem to raise it above a whisper. “I look forward to it.”
Apparently that was all the reassurance Kirk needed. He smiled, soft and warm in a way that made Spock’s breath shake. Kirk walked away but looked back once before turning the corner.
Spock found himself frozen in the hallway long after Kirk had disappeared from view.