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Something was going on with Mr. Spock, and Kirk knew it.
Life aboard the Enterprise had been uneventful as of late, their current mission being the transport of a diplomat to Nineveh III, and so the captain and his first officer had been spending more time together than they could usually afford. And it had been lovely (so so lovely). There was no one Kirk would rather spend time with than his best friend.
Of course, there was the small issue of being head over heels in love with him. That, and Kirk couldn't help the fact that he'd always been a physical man. His feelings for Spock had a tendency to… overflow.
He first started noticing something was amiss when he had been eager to recount to Spock a hilarious story that Scotty had told him. He found Spock in the mess hall, and in his excitement he grasped Spock's hand as he sat down. Spock had fidgeted in his seat throughout the entire tale and practically ran away when Kirk released him, leaving a trail of very flimsy sounding excuses behind him. Kirk had simply sat there, bewildered.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. Whatever this was, he was determined to get to the bottom of it, and so he set off to find his Vulcan first officer.
Spock was tucked into a corner in the rec room, playing a melancholy ditty on his lyre when he heard Kirk walk in. He saw him take the seat nearest to him, watching him play with his chin pressed against steepled hands. Spock looked over at his captain wistfully, trying not to think about how strange and pathetic he must have seemed during their last interaction. Yet any vulcan would have reacted similarly, he tried to reassure himself, if the object of their affection had touched their hands so casually. His hands…
If he wasn't mistaken, which he surely must be, Kirk seemed to be staring at his hands with a peculiar intensity. He couldn't help but wonder if Kirk was impressed by his skill, or perhaps impressed by something else. Was he admiring the way his graceful fingers flew over the strings? Could he want to press his fingers to them, and caress his fingertips with his own-
Spock had played a wrong note, the dissonant twang echoing around the rec room. It brought him abruptly back to reality, and earned him a confused glance from Uhura, who had been listening idly. Well, Kirk certainly wasn't admiring his skill now.
Spock closed his eyes and prayed for a wormhole to open and swallow him up, he was so filled with shame and embarrassment. How could he think of his friend like that? Jim, who was made of sunlight, when he himself was like a raincloud always hindering his ability to shine. He didn't deserve his fantasies, and Jim would only be hurt and disappointed if he ever knew about them.
He grabbed his lyre and made a beeline for the door when he was stopped by a hand closing around his. He whipped around to see Kirk, staring at him imploringly. All he could feel was the pads of Kirk's fingers pressing into his palm, the meat of his hand flexing against his knuckles. He felt suddenly dizzy.
"Wait, Spock, please! Just tell me what I've done wrong."
"You've done nothing wrong, Captain," Spock began, trying desperately to divert his attention away from the warmth of Kirk's touch, "I just- I… am needed elsewhere, that is all. Please excuse me."
And with that, he fled from the room. An unpleasant feeling twisted his gut. He was so tired of running away.
Kirk was left standing in the middle of the rec room, all eyes trained on him.
"What?" He exclaimed, looking around him and eventually landing his gaze on Uhura, who seemed to be glaring at him judgmentally.
"If you don't already know, I'm not telling you," she tutted.
Kirk restrained himself from crying insubordination, and left the room in a huff.
After a fitful night's sleep, Kirk was resolute in his conviction to try again, and to apologise to Spock properly. He got himself ready and headed down to the bridge, where Spock was at his usual station.
He was immediately stalled by a Yeoman handing him a padd to sign. He scribbled his signature hurriedly, unable to shake the irrational feeling that Spock might be gone by the time he looked up. He wasn't.
"Mr. Spock, could you meet me in my ready room in five, please?"
Kirk tapped his foot against the floor nervously as he waited for Spock to join him. It felt like forever, although in reality he was sure that it was exactly five minutes before Spock walked through the door and halted near the entrance, hands clasped behind his back.
"Please take a seat," Kirk said, gesturing to the seat opposite him.
Spock nodded and sat down, looking sheepish with his interlocked hands balancing atop the desk.
"Captain," he began, "I would like to apologise for my behaviour yesterday. It was rude and unbefitting of a first officer-"
"We were off duty," Kirk interrupted.
"Yes, all the same."
Kirk braced himself. It was best just to be straightforward.
"Well, actually Spock, I was the one who wanted to apologise to you. I don't know what I did to upset you, but Lieutenant Uhura fairly strongly implied that I did something, so whatever it was, I'm sorry. If you could just explain so that I don't do it again?"
Affection for the man in front of him and guilt for making him so concerned collided in Spock's mind, causing his brows to furrow.
"No Jim, you haven't done anything wrong. I was simply feeling strange yesterday. Please don't take it to heart."
Spock observed with delight how Kirk's whole face seemed to relax and a smile seemed to tug at the corner of his mouth at the use of his first name.
"I'm so relieved to hear that," he sighed.
Spock was just allowing himself to feel proud of how he had navigated the situation when he felt a warm, solid hand come to rest on top of his clasped ones.
"So we're okay then?" Kirk asked, leaning over the desk towards him, leaving Spock staring dumbstruck into a pair of captivating hazel eyes that seemed to shine with flecks of gold.
"Y-yes, of course," Spock spluttered, tearing his eyes away from their captives.
"That's good," Kirk said softly, "you had me worried there."
That voice, so smooth and gentle, like it was meant only for him to hear. Spock suddenly understood why so many of his female crew members would swoon when the captain simply said hello to them. His own knees felt weak.
And then there was the hand holding his, the gentle grip contrasting the rough calluses courtesy of a tough and demanding lifestyle. The hand squeezed and Spock nearly jumped. He knew that he was torturing himself needlessly, that all he had to do was tell Kirk to stop and he would respect his wishes. But how could he, when he loved him so, when this might be all he'd ever have? It was so warm, almost scalding against his much cooler skin. Spock wanted to curl around its owner like a lizard on a heat rock.
Spock wanted to bang his head against the desk.
Kirk watched with amazement as a viridescent tinge crept over those sculpted cheekbones and felt a tremor travel through the tense fingers beneath his. Oh.
Oh! He understood now, or at least he hoped he did. No, surely he knew the signs of infatuation when he saw them. Spock was certainly attracted to him, unless he'd lost all his intuition concerning these matters, which was always a possibility when Spock was involved. He could only pray that it went beyond that, as it did for him.
Unable to resist testing his newly formed theory, he traced the tips of his fingers down one of Spock's wrists.
Spock appeared to have reached breaking point.
"Please excuse me, Captain, I have been away from my station for much too long," he said hurriedly before virtually bolting out of the room.
Kirk sighed wearily and prepared to return to his own duties. Well, at least now he had a hunch. How to create an opportunity in which to act on it without scaring the timid scientist away was another matter entirely.
As it turned out, the opportunity presented itself. He checked his padd that evening to find a message from Spock, requesting a game of chess.
Spock stared apprehensively at his padd. He had been staring at it for the full fifteen minutes since he'd sent his message. He had wanted to prove to himself that he could still be the friend that Kirk needed, that he could acknowledge his feelings and still control himself. He had wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't a coward, that he wasn't running away anymore. Yet as the minutes ticked on he became less sure of his decision.
Just then he heard a loud ping from the padd in his lap. He tapped on the message hastily.
Dear Mr. Spock,
I would be delighted to play you at chess this evening! Come join me in my quarters at your earliest convenience.
Jim.
The words swirled around in Spock's head long after he finished reading them. ' Dear Mr. Spock', 'join me in my quarters'. It almost sounded…
No. That would be an erroneous assumption to make. However there was nothing presently keeping him occupied, so he started to make his way to the captain's quarters, denying to himself that he felt in any way excited.
The chess match was fun, and both the game and the conversation flowed with an ease that was comfortingly familiar. Spock even felt relaxed enough to crack a subtle joke or two, making Kirk chortle merrily and his own heart sing.
Soon the match was over and they both started to clear away the pieces. While he was distracted by just how right it felt to return to this casual closeness, Spock reached for the same bishop that Kirk was reaching for. Their fingers brushed over the chess piece as deep brown eyes met hazel ones. The green flush that swept over the vulcan's cheeks and ears was too visible to ignore at such a close proximity, and Kirk had decided he'd had enough of that.
"What's this about then?" He asked, low and quiet so as not to scare the man opposite him.
"This, captain?" Spock said as he hastily pulled his hand away.
"Jim."
"Jim. To what are you referring?"
"Come on, Spock," Kirk chided gently, "we've been tiptoeing around this for a while now. I want to know why, when I do this…"
He paused and reached for Spock's hand across the small table and took it into his, stroking the back soothingly with his thumb. Spock let out a small gasp.
"...Why you seem to be so affected."
Spock cleared his throat nervously.
"Vulcan hands are a… sensitive area, Captain," he said, averting his gaze.
"Oh?" Kirk murmured, the smirk in his voice evident, "then do you want me to stop?"
Spock jerked his head up to look at his captain once more. He seemed to struggle for a long moment.
"You don't understand, Jim," He said finally on shaking breath, ducking his head.
Kirk lifted his other hand to touch Spock's chin and tilted his head up enough to meet his eyes, soft with warmth and patience and…love- yes Spock was sure of it then. His heart pounded in his side as he felt a sudden surge of courage.
"Then help me understand," Kirk said kindly, squeezing Spock's hand. Spock took a deep breath and attempted to swallow his nerves.
"In my culture, how you are touching me would be considered kissing."
He heard a low chuckle escape from the man across from him.
"Oh Spock, why didn't you tell me sooner? I've made an awful fool of myself."
"No, Jim. You could never make a fool of yourself with your affections," Spock said with conviction, but then paused, "that is, if you do hold affection for me in that manner?"
Jim stared at him incredulously.
"Are you joking? Spock you have no idea!" He exclaimed as he raised the slender, green-hued hand to his lips, "Spock I adore you! My best friend in all the universe, my soulmate, my life companion. I worship you."
Jim pressed his lips to the hand held in his and kissed it gently. Spock hung on to Jim tighter as his breath became short and he blinked rapidly to banish the moisture gathering in his eyes.
"I am unworthy of such… commendation," he choked out.
Jim shook his head, smiling.
"You are worthy of everything I could ever give you."
Spock tried to give himself a moment to keep up with all these new revelations. It felt as if the room was spinning around him.
"I am honoured Jim, yet you speak of me as if I am a saint," Spock replied, feeling dizzy, "this is far from being true."
"You are a saint. I had to make a pilgrimage to the stars to find you."
Spock felt a rush of warmth fill his chest. He would never understand why exaggeration and colourful metaphors were such a necessity to human expression, and yet he felt such an overwhelming fondness for his Captain now. This human was illogical, yes, but he was his! And he always would be. Had he not just told him as much, in his human way? It filled him with joy, but try as he might, the half vulcan didn't know how to convey all that he felt.
"I'm glad you did," he said simply, and hoped it was enough.
Spock slipped his hand out of Jim's grasp and extended his middle and index fingers, running them up Jim's palm and upwards until he coaxed Jim's fingers to meet his. They both gasped as a spark of electricity passed between them.
Jim looked at their touching fingertips in wonder, then seemed to smile to himself, as if indulging in a private joke. Spock raised a curious eyebrow at him
"For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch"
Spock's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. The last thing he had expected this evening was for his captain to be reciting a renaissance period sonnet to him. And yet there is nothing he would change about it, or his romantic, endearing human. Jim grinned at his surprised reaction.
Seeing his opportunity to show Jim his feelings were reciprocated, Spock pressed their palms together, intertwining their fingers in an intimate embrace.
"And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss"
Jim's smile widened so much that it seemed as if it would split his face, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Why Mr. Spock, I do believe you just quoted Shakespeare! You must not be so averse to Earthmen after all!"
"They are not without their merits," Spock teased, the corners of his lips curving unmistakably up into a tiny smile.
Kirk bit his lip before declaring, "I can think of one merit."
"Oh?"
"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"
All of Spock's vocabulary seemed to have flown away like birds released from a cage, so he simply nodded, mutely but no less enthusiastically. Jim stood at the first movement of Spock's head, nearly tripping over his own boots in his eagerness and then cursing himself under his breath.
Spock did smile then, real and full-bodied. He reached for Jim's upper arms and drew him close. Kirk cupped Spock's shoulders and bent down over him, watching the vulcan's dark eyelashes fan over his cheeks as his eyes fluttered closed. Their lips brushed softly, tentatively, and both hearts beat wildly as one.
This was all that Spock had wanted for so, so long, and now that it had been given to him he felt as if he would cry. He had never wanted to cry because of this type of feeling before. He stood from his chair to better seek out this new feeling.
Jim brought up a hand to cradle his head and Spock felt his vulcan control fracture further with every gentle kiss bestowed upon his lips. Fingers rubbing over the short, fine hairs at the nape of his neck, the tender press of foreheads and noses as their lips detached, quick breaths caressing each other's cheeks. These things were the final cracks in a dam that was long due to overflow. Spock couldn't contain this flood of feelings any longer; his chest felt it would burst from the strain.
"James," he breathed.
"God, please," answered that warm, familiar voice, caramel and coffee and golden fields on a summer's day, "call me that again."
And it burst.
"James, I love you," he gasped, holding tighter to the man in his arms and digging his fingers into the fabric of the gold command shirt.
He heard a sharp intake of breath.
"Oh Spock, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that. You have no idea-" Jim's sentence was cut off by his breath hitching.
Spock pulled back to see Jim's eyes brimming with tears and his eyebrows drawn tightly together. He raised a hand to cup Jim's cheek and as he watched him lean into his touch, all his worries seemed to dissipate. Pressing two fingers gently to one of Jim's temples, he tried to send him all the understanding, patience and mutual longing that he didn't know how to otherwise express. Jim's eyes widened as if he could see something infinitely beautiful.
"Thank you," he whispered, "and I love you, Spock. I- I get the feeling that I always will."
Spock closed his eyes contentedly and felt light kisses being peppered to his green dashed cheeks, his upturned eyebrows, his pointed ears. These are things that Jim loves about him, he realised. The things that had always been a source of ridicule and taunting among humans were the very things that Jim loved. He was suddenly filled with a sort of happiness that he had never known. Love and safety and trust.
"I cherish thee, my T'hy'la," he said, meaning it with all of his heart.
Their lips rejoined and they found themselves drifting towards Jim's bed. When they reached it they kicked their boots off, Jim chuckling and lending a hand when Spock struggled to remove one of his, noticing that the vulcan's hands were trembling as he'd attempted to undo the knot of his laces. After a questioning eyebrow and a received nod, they both removed their uniform shirts and trousers, leaving on their black undershirts and Starfleet issue underwear.
They lay down together and curled around each other, content to simply hold one another, interspersed with the occasional kiss to a cheek or pair of lips or ear. Jim laid his head on Spock's chest and Spock pressed his cheek against Jim's sandy hair. Jim placed his hand over the heartbeat in Spock's side and thought to himself how lucky they were to have this. This sacred space between them.
Here, Spock could be himself, free from the rigid restraints of his vulcan upbringing and the judgement of some of their less pleasant human colleagues. And in the safety of Spock's arms, there were no expectations, either of stoicism or of intimacy, no accidentally earned reputation, no performance to put on. Captain Kirk could be set aside for a while, and he could just be Jim.
Their elbows banged together and their legs tangled awkwardly but still neither of them had ever felt more at peace or at home. They floated into sleep with their ears filled with words of love and their arms filled with each other.
When Captain Kirk awoke from his slumber the next morning, he was met with warm brown eyes and a tiny smile. A secret promise that they would always have this at the end of a day, that there would always be this safe place to return to. Kirk yawned and stretched and leant down to steal one last kiss from his vulcan lover. For now, it was enough.