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Reminiscing about his youth, Spock often wished to reach back through time and speak to his teenage self. He wanted to show him, with definitive proof, that the crushing loneliness he feels will be gone, and in its place will be the Enterprise and Jim.
He remembered his sleepless nights, when, cold and dizzy from effort, he tried to purge from his mind the paralyzing anger and sadness that prevented him from functioning normally. He sank his illogical desires, but they surfaced again. He knew the need to love T'Pring, his lawful bondmate, but his mind kept straying towards forbidden things: the man he saw on the street discreetly sliding his hand into his companion's sleeve, the boy with braided hair he'd met on an astronomy convention, the contraband picture he'd bought from a classmate - two crudely drawn teenagers kissing in the Terran style, mouth to mouth.
Spock wished to tell that tortured version of himself that he must not be ashamed. He would rediscover Surak's teachings independently and find that the urges he thought so illogical were in fact nescessary and beautiful. But more than that, he wanted to show him Jim.
“This is why you need to live,” he would say, “Do you not wish to save yourself for this to be your future?”
Making a statement of admiration and watching his face light up, the crew looking onto them knowingly with that human mixture of annoyance and joy.
Having his body all to himself, letting his repressed desires surface and be met with delight and excitement.
Knowing that he is loved for who he is.
Knowing that Jim doesn't want him to change.
It was true, then, what the old (insufficiently researched) legends said of th'y'la - destined bondmates. At the very least, Spock could find no other explanation as to what had lead to such a powerful connection between him and his captain.
Naturally, Jim needed to be informed of this, as well as Spock's intentions to develop their mental bond, get married, stay with him until death and end his own life as soon as Jim died...no, perhaps not the last part. As it stood, though, their relationship was not nearly as commited. They were involved, as the bridge crew put it, but neither of them had done anything to indicate their plans to continue the relationship past their service aboard the Enterprise. Spock had even explicitly stated that he was alright with his captain pursuing others (which wasn't true at all, but Spock reasoned it would be decent of him).
Although Jim had professed his love, he remained reserved in his affections, made no great promises and never spoke of their relationship unprompted.
Was the meaning of love for a Terran different than for a Vulcan? During their mission, he claimed to love at least six people from different worlds and seen them all die, or left them. To Spock, the loss of a loved one would be a tragedy, he'd mourn for years, while Jim went to bed crying and woke up cheerful again.
Sometimes, Spock would stay awake late at night and torment himself with visions of Jim giving him the same treatment.
“Well, goodbye, Mister Spock. It was wonderful serving with you,” he would say with a soft smile.
“Likewise, captain,” Spock would respond, trying desperately not to burst into tears. “What do you estimate are the odds of us meeting in the future?”
“Oh, I'm sure I'll see you at the academy sometime. Though who knows, Vulcan's pretty far away...well, take care, Spock, I have a shuttle to get to.”
In this scenario, Spock could imagine two futures for himself - either perish in the flames of his next pon farr, or pursue Kolinahr and purge all emotion. The second option was, perhaps, logical, but neither was desirable.
It was clear that Jim needed to be informed of Spock's intentions. The five-year-mission was nearing its end, so this needed to happen urgently.
He began by doing some research.
Illogical and highly emotional as humans were, they recommended, quote, “looking for the right moment” and “speaking from your heart”. Spock's ability to interpret social cues was...underdeveloped, and he lacked a sense of intuition, so he turned to Terran art for possible behavior models. For a week he looked through popular cinema and literature depicting the establishment of successful lifelong bonds. To his surprise, he found those stories quite logical (and, sometimes, enjoyable). A strong bond required mutual respect, shared interests, the ability to sacrifice oneself for their partner - the same things Vulcans valued.
But one final step was needed. The breaking point that turned a casual connection into something fundamental - the confession. An admission of love, very important for a psi-null species.
It took various forms: you are the only thing that matters, I see you, you and me always, let me help you, let me in, I promise. It could be an action that showed deep care. Still, Spock knew that what he needed was the most popular version.
“I love you,” he whispered to himself, staring at his stone-cold face reflected in a mirror. “I love you, James Tiberius Kirk.”
His heart fluttered with the power of the words. They weren't just significant in Terran culture - they were significant to them specifically. Saying that he loved him meant saying that he could love. His whole life it was forbidden to him, illogically, cruelly, and he felt white-hot shame shoot through him.
Spock's first attempt hardly even counted. Jim had won a game of chess and looked very pleased. He didn't have a tendency for self-admiration, but he deserved to be proud after such a dificult match.
“So much for your Vulcan intellect, Mister Spock,” he teased, updating the pie chart showing their win percentages. Jim had won 64% of the time. Spock continued to be perplexed by this trend.
“Oh, and we're almost up to three hundred matches! Think we can squeeze in nine more before the mission ends?”
Spock's brain fired up. They were in private, Jim was at ease. It was the perfect time to lead the conversation where it needed to go.
I would hope, James, that we will continue our matches far beyond three hundred. In fact, I hope to play chess with you for the rest of my life.
Perfect. Now to actually say it.
What if he doesn't want that? What if the commitment expected of a Vulcan's bondmate is too much for a man like Jim? What if he intends their relationship to be purely sexual?
Spock was suddenly terrified. His mouth did not move.
Jim looked up at him from his PADD as if to say “are you alright?”. Spock immediately abandoned his attempt and promised to make time for nine more games.
It seemed that intent was not enough. Spock was struck with a deep hatred of his weakness. What was his self control worth if he couldn't even speak when he wished? He tried again in a couple of days, thinking that sufficient preparation would allow him to overcome his mental barriers. He specifically invited Jim to the observation deck at night for an “important personal conversation”. He meditated directly before the time of meeting and ate a piece of chocolate - a tip he'd picked up from Dr. McCoy, who always took a swig of whiskey whenever he was about to present his quarterly report to the admiralty.
“For bravery,” he said.
Spock dressed in a black civilian robe and got up to the observation deck, where Jim was already waiting, looking out at the stars. He smiled as Spock came closer.
“Good evening. Are those traditional robes?”
“Yes,” Spock replied stiffly.
“You should wear those more often. You look beautiful.”
If you accept what I am about to propose, you will have the opportunity to see me wear them many more times. Spock said gently, watching the look of surprise on Jim's face. Then, he snapped back to reality, where he still hadn't opened his mouth.
Abort plan A. Onto plan B - less elegant, but shorter.
I love you, James Tiberius Kirk.
I love you, captain.
I love you, Jim.
“Yes, Spock, I'm listening?”
The fear was inescapable. On both sides was the void - one of loneliness, the other of shame. Perhaps it was his fate. Perhaps they were not meant to be - different species, different people...men.
No! Illogical! He needed to believe, seize his life, seize his happiness before it slips away into the chaos of the galaxy.
Spock forced his mouth to form the first syllable:
“I...I-I...”
Jim was waiting patiently.
Spock's pathetic “I” had turned so quiet that it became inaudible. All his most painful memories were crowding in on him, reminding him how alien he was among everyone, how he will never be worthy of what he wanted to ask of Jim.
It seemed obvious now that Jim never loved him after all - how could he?
“I...I must go. Forgive me for needlessly occupying your time.”
“What? Is something wrong?” Jim looked around carefully, as if expecting danger. Spock noticed him instinctively reaching for where he usually kept his phaser.
“You are safe, Jim. I - regret...regret...”
Unable to say anything more, Spock paced towards the exit.
“No, wait! Stay! I won't force you to speak again if you don't want to,” Jim exclaimed after him, but Spock had already opened the door. He raced to the turbolift with all his Vulcan speed, knowing Jim had both the power and daring to trap him on one floor.
In his quarters, he realized he was shaking. He set the lights to a muddy red, like the sunrises he remembered watching as a teen, and curled up into a ball on his bed - something he would normally consider unacceptable, but now was beyond caring about. There he stayed for the next nine hours, trying to calm the storm raging inside his mind.
Everything had mixed together: his father calling him a moral failure, his mother staying quiet, guilt, shame for being neither a passing Vulcan nor a passing Terran, fear of Jim's rejection, fear of the pon farr, fear of the cold universe, the lonely death of civilizations never discovered.
Despite his rank, despite his experience, Spock felt like nothing had changed at all since he was sixteen.
There was a knock on his door.
“Spock? Spock, please let me in.”
Jim - who else.
“Spock, you either let me in right now or I'm using my override code. I'm saying this as your captain. You failed to show up for your shift.”
He could not let anyone, much less Jim, see him in this state.
“Do not enter, captain. Mark my absence on your report, as dictated by protocol-”
“If you, of all people, are late for your shift, I know something awful has happened.”
“James, I assure you-”
“I'm going in.”
Spock closed his eyes. He heard the beep of the code confirmation, Jim's nearing footsteps, then his breath as he crouched next to the bed.
“Are you ill, darling? Is this a scenario three, or maybe four?”
Scenarios three and four both referred to extraordinary emergencies that were nontheless common on the Enterprise. Spock shook his head.
“Then let me kiss you. Come, give me your hand.”
Spock pulled out his hand tentatively and was met with the familliar warmth of a Vulcan kiss. Jim held his fingers against him gently.
“I hate distressing you even further, but I can't help my brain running ahead of me. Or maybe it's just my wishes...oh, I'll say it anyway - I wanted to discuss our future. After the, uhm, mission ends.”
Our future. Their future.
“See I, uhm, don't know what your plans are. And after last night, I've lost all clues about what to think. Whatever it is you have to say, I'd like to hear it, no matter if it's good or bad.”
Spock opened a teary eye to look at Jim. He had a tender, but sorrowful expression on his face, as if he was getting ready for a painful blow.
“In theory - in theory, you understand, of course - I would like to...make it our future, somehow.”
There had never been a moment where Spock needed to speak more than now. But of course, he couldn't.
He just couldn't.
Spock looked into Jim's hazel eyes. Even now they shone with passion and intelligence, and he was inspired, illogically, by what he knew of Jim.
What would the great captain Kirk do? Sure, his will was stronger, but what if it failed?
He would find another way. There is always another way.
With the last of his strength, Spock gripped Jim's arm, placed the fingers of his other hand on his wrist and began a weak tapping motion.
One finger, two fingers, one finger, one finger, pause. Two fingers, two fingers, two fingers, pause.
One finger - short beep. Two fingers - long beep.
*-** --- ***- * -*-- --- **- ** *-** --- ***- * -*-- --- **- **
“What are you...”
* -*-- --- **- ** *-** --- ***- * -*-- --- **- ** and he started again, *-** --- ***- * -*-- --- **- ** *-** --- ***- * -*-- --- **- **
Jim was not promoted to starship captain for nothing.
“Morse.”
ILOVEYOUILOVEYOUI
Jim smiled a radiant smile, also on the verge of tears.
“Oh, Spock...”
Spock quivered, waiting for a response.
“I love you too. I love you so, so much you can't even imagine.”
“I want to stay with you,” Spock said, and this time, the words flowed easily.
“As do I. Oh dear, was this what you were worried about this whole time?”
Spock sat up rapidly and gripped Jim's shoulders. He needed confirmation. He needed a clear answer.
“Answer me, Jim. Will you bond me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you promise to never part from me?”
“Mostly, yes.”
“Mostly?”
“Well, I might need to go on missions without you. Then there's also the bathroom situation,” Jim chuckled, and Spock realized he was trying to bring a little humour into the situation. He shook him.
“This is not a promise you can go back on. A bond is made for life. Are you certain?”
“For life? Yes. Yes, please, I would like that very much.”
It seemed that everything whithin Spock had stilled. He should've been experiencing immense relief, but there was only emptiness, like a moment before a big drop. Jim took his hand and placed it upon his own temple, eyes lidded.
“My mind to your mind?”
“My thoughts to your thoughts,” Spock said, and they dived into the abyss of their mindscape. Spock realized far too late that his shields were down. The familliar tight embrace that was Jim's mind swirled around him, vibrant with a caleidoscope of positive emotions. Though they had melded before, Spock never had the time to appreciate the power of Jim's mind, the constantly shifting fractals of his thought process, his golden, glowing kindness and confidence.
The whirlwind stopped before reaching Spock's raw, vulnerable center.
“Am I allowed to see this?“
Spock was tired of shielding himself. In response, he pushed forward right where it hurt most, and heard the real, physical Jim groan in pain at their shared anguish.
He felt everything Spock had felt since their meeting - all the shame, fear and most of all, love, the love that was at once the problem and the solution. Jim returned it to him with the same power. In the mindscape, it felt almost too strong to bear, bursting out like a supernova, burning everything around it with a sweet fire.
Spock flashed before him a collection of memories and fantasies that represented his hopes, each one met with a strong sense of approval. Jim's mind wrapped him up in warmth, and parried all of his worries with the same thought: “we will be happy. No matter what, it's all alright now.“
Eventually, the storm settled, because even the most genuine ecstatic joy must mellow out into deep contentment, lest Spock's brain would burst. As they disconnected, he felt something wet on his cheeks - tears.
He was crying, and it was clearly not going to stop anytime soon.
Jim gave him one of his trademark charming smiles, kissed him on the mouth, then let him slide down to his chest and held him tightly, stroking his hair.
“There, there, darling. Shhh.”
Spock cried silently, just shaking slightly every time he sobbed. Something strange had happened - wasn't one supposed to be sad when one cried?
“I'm so glad you told me - oh, I'm so glad I've got you...”
“Jim...”
“No, shh. We can talk some more later. We're in no rush. Scoot over so I can get on the bed.“
Spock's tears dried soon enough, and he lay peacefully in Jim's arms, black robe pooling around them. His mind was naked, his secrets laid bare, but he trusted the man holding him so completely that he didn't even think of closing off again.
There was just one final unpleasant thought to deal with. When Spock happened upon it, Jim felt it through the traces of their mental connection.
“What is it?”
“We must get to the bridge as soon as possible. We are neglecting our duties.”
“Oh no, mister, you're staying right here. I warned everyone I'd be gone for a while, and besides, I've got other plans for you...as nice as that robe is, I think I'll enjoy pulling it off.”