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“Captain, may I make an inquiry?”
Kirk looked up from the chessboard he’d been contemplating, one hand paused above a lucky pawn. His forehead creased. They’d been in the middle of a laid back game in Spock’s quarters, sitting haphazardly on the floor with knees propped up. Neither of them seemed particularly competitive that night, but the flow of conversation came easily enough.
He nodded, capturing one of Spock’s knights and sweeping it to the side of the board, where a small group of pieces had amassed. “Of course, Mr. Spock. Fire away.”
The Vulcan’s eyebrow quivered at the idom, but he continued nevertheless, giving thought to his next move at the same time. “Thank you. In fact, I was wondering if we could stray from the treaded path tonight - my mother sent me something from her stint on Earth and I was curious as to whether you would pursue it with me.”
Oh? What was Spock on about? Not that Jim was at all against the idea of overstaying his welcome in the first officer’s quarters, not at all. He’d been trying to extend these nights for a while now, ever since they’d become routine. He liked Spock - maybe a bit too much, honestly.
“Pursue?”
Nodding, Spock dragged a satchel onto the floor from beside him and clicked the latch open. From it he drew a small, rectangular box, and a few lashed black cables. Immediately, Jim’s eyes lit up. “Yes. I am informed these are the equivalent to a modern day holovid, when connected with cables to a monitor screen.”
Jim grinned, chess game all but forgotten. Scooting over a little until they were on the same side of the table, he reached for one of the bundles. “I know what these are - you’ve managed to get your hands on some old Terran movies! My, Spock, I used to watch these in my father’s office when I was a youngster. Gosh, this brings back some memories.”
It almost looked like Spock was going to smile, for a second there.
And memories they were indeed; of watching Sunday cartoons with Sam on the couch in the rec room, and no doubt X-rated films when he was a little older. Getting busted for taping one of his father’s favourite movies with the sole reason being he wanted to throw the tape out of the window for some reason. Laughing with his mother at an old soap from the 2010s. Not all good times, but enough.
“I figured you’d appreciate them,” said Spock, in that even tone of his. “Assuming they still work. My mother assured me they would, but there is no guarantee.”
”These things are pretty indestructible.” Jim unravelled one of the connector cables and plugged it into the awaiting tablet, then slung the other cable towards the monitor screen in Spock’s room. “I think all you have to do is plug this end into there, and then boot the program up.”
Spock took hold of it and began to fiddle with the port carefully. “These tablets - what do you know of them?”
He clicked the side buttons and held it, sniggering a bit. “I think they used to be pretty advanced technology. We’ve worked on communicators up here, and you know all the things Terran civilians still use, but back then - these were state of the art. Most people used them like a PADD and a monitor combined into one. Bit primitive, but there you have it.”
Finally it lit up, showing a slightly glarey lockscreen. The passwords had been deactivated though, so when he swiped the touchscreen, the security systems didn’t kick in.
“There we go.”
“It looks wiped,” Spock noted, hovering on the floor beside Jim, who tried to ignore the butterflies that had camped inside his stomach for the long run. “And rather terrible for one's eyesight.”
Jim found the three files stored in the old memory banks, taking stock of what was left on the tablet. Not much, apparently. “That’s because it is. They were still using all sorts of blue light and UV back then. It won’t carry over to the monitor, but using it for a long time isn’t a good idea anyway.”
“Fascinating,” mumbled Spock.
It was sweet how interested he was in the proceedings. Whereas before Jim wasn’t really in the moment, now he had something that piqued his interest, and was content to milk it for all its worth. The fact Spock was sitting beside him on the mound of pillows and blankets they’d put on the floor that afternoon, leaning close together to make the tablet work, well that didn’t really matter at all.
All that fiddling took a while, but eventually they managed to hook the files up to Spock’s monitor.
“Are you going to choose the movie, or shall I?” Jim asked, settling back against the bed frame and crossing his legs. Spock shuffled too, until they sat side by side.
“What are the options we have been given?”
Biting his lip, Jim recalled, “We have Titanic, Peter’s Friends, and Mary Poppins. Someone was having a good laugh, I guess. Any preferences?”
“Titanic. Is this not a real life event from your Earth’s twentieth century?”
Somehow, Jim should have known Spock would pick the only film that had ever made him properly cry.
He patted Spock on the arm. “Right again. And alright, Titanic it is. No spoilers - we’ll get our teeth sunk into a bit of romance, I suppose.”
The first few minutes were an awkward mix of trying to find a good spot on the mound of pillows while still not missing anything, and they ended up settling for the compromise that was Jim’s legs stretched out in front of him and Spock’s arms around his own tucked knees.
“This definitely wasn’t how I expected tonight to go,” he said, giving a little chuckle. “But to hell with it, I’m up for a good time.”
Spock almost smiled at that, Jim was sure.
*****
By the time the “draw me like one of your French girls” scene comes around, Jim had to blush and look away at Spock for a second, who - to his credit - did not falter at the intensity of the intimate moment. It was rather awkward to watch it with his crush, but he fumbled his way through a bad joke and breathed a sigh of relief when the camera left them to their ‘conjugal union’, as Spock so eloquently put it.
They weren’t required to be back on shift for hours and hours, and somewhere in the depths of his mind, he started to wonder what was going to happen after that final scene - how he’d stand, nod with a little smirk, make his way towards the door and thank Spock with just the right amount of emotion for a fine night of enrichment.
It didn’t do to dwell, though, on matters which had not yet come to pass, so Jim shook his head and focused on the slightly grainy monitor screen, trying to brace himself for the scenes to come.
For Spock’s comfort, the heating in his quarters was cranked up to a steady high that made Jim feel drowsy with warmth, like the whole room was trying to hug him. It smelt like fleece and ash from the simulated fire in the corner, something Jim hadn’t seen alighted before. He found himself slipping down against the back of the bed even more, feeling almost soft enough to just rest his head on a pillow and watch the rest of the movie from the floor.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Spock asked, when Jim had been fidgeting for a couple of minutes. He hadn’t moved since they’d pressed play, hands still clasped in his lap and cheeks flushed a pale shade of green and pink. “You are restless.”
Jim shot him a grin. “Just trying to find a good place. You’ve built yourself an impressive pillow mound here.”
Onscreen, Celine Dion began to play, and Jim had to clear his throat. No matter how many times he’d seen this film, it always got to him. The theme, the story behind it, the memories he had of watching it with his mom and Sam back on the farm… before everything went to shit and life took a few very strange turns. Maybe they’d already started to turn - he remembered Sam, beating up a girl who’d turned Jim down. The driest summer in a long time. His mom crying at night, lost in her own memories. And tests - so many tests.
“You are welcome to touch me,” Spock said quietly, almost gently, “if it would be of solace to you. From my knowledge, this film is not one that ends in a joyful conclusion.”
That was almost enough to knock Jim to his senses. As it was, it made his heart go a little haywire, and he gave a small snort in acknowledgment, unsure whether to give serious thought to the notion. The offer didn’t seem to be in jest - with Spock they rarely were - but Jim was always bound by caution in his affections, after years of self-imposed seclusion.
But something about that moment felt fragile, and so Jim moved his shoulders slightly in a way that indicated yes, okay, I will let this happen. As the film went on, Jim could feel himself drifting closer to Spock, closer to his side, until the knot in his stomach led to his throat and he swallowed his sadness down, leading himself down the natural path of winding his arm around Spock’s back and leaning his head on Spock’s shoulder.
It was drowsy and slow, and softer than he’d imagined for his pointy, put-together first officer, but in a way still so nice - nicer than Jim had felt in a long time.
Chess games that turned into this weren’t something Jim ever wished for, nor even guessed would happen, but in a life so risk-filled that it was uncertain whether he’d even live to sit in these quarters again, it was difficult not to succumb to the comfort it inexplicably provided.
“I will not lie, your warmth is strangely heartening,” murmured Spock. His hand wound to scritch in Jim’s curls lightly, almost absentmindedly. It sent a shiver through his spine that went right down to his toes. God, the difference between watching this shit in the past, surrounded by all the problems of his tiny life, compared to now… with someone he cared about beside him, following the dreams he’d fought for…
He felt like a pawn who’d crossed the chessboard. Finally the queen he’d wondered whether it was worth becoming.
And on screen, the ship hit the iceberg, and everything went wrong, and deep down inside Jim prayed that would not become him one day, the band playing as his men died around him.
It was more than that though. Feeling the terror on each lover’s face, torn apart by circumstances out of their control; something about the parallels to him, decades later, taking a moment to fall into comfort in Spock’s embrace. Was this his My Heart Will Go On sequence, to be followed by an equally devastating loss of life, of love?
The belief was futile, but oh so real. He couldn’t help but stem a tear at the sudden swell of sadness crashing over him, pulling at his heartstrings.
As though feeling the emotions strung between their bodies, Spock pulled him closer, all but throwing aside the defences both of them always kept up, one arm wrapping protectively around his neck and cradling him close while still letting him watch the chaos unfolding on the screen.
“I know those thoughts,” the Vulcan said quietly, in a way Jim knew was not invasive to his mind. Perhaps his expressions were just that easy to read. “I admire your honesty. To feel so deeply… It is a luxury.”
“I always cry at this one. Knew as soon as you picked it I’d be sobbing by the hour-forty-five mark.”
Spock frowned. “Do you wish to turn it off?”
Shaking his head and throwing caution to the wind, Jim buried his head in Spock’s chest, pretending to wipe his tears a little dramatically. “Don’t you dare. This is part of the experience.”
*****
He did cry a little bit, as the end credits rolled and everything faded to black. Fingers wiping at wet eyes, he couldn’t find it in himself to summon that sleazy smile and make his farewells, adrift in warmth from Spock engulfing him in his arms, stoic but still gentle.
Spock must have sensed something, because he did nothing but tug a blanket up over the both of them, and let the next film play.
Jim fell asleep against Spock, and for once, his emotions felt a little less like a shipwreck and a little more like smooth sailing.
Checkmate .