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The first color Spock’s eyes ever turned was deep blue.
No one knew what it meant at the time. Other than that Spock was “So Human.”
Immediately out of the womb and he was already a disappointment.
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Spock’s eyes were often blue. For wonder.
He’d search through data with rigor, fascinating worlds unraveling before his eyes. He loved learning, loved the numbers, loved the way they floated around him and formed ideas and facts and stories and everything. It was everything.
Everything.
Spock was going to be a scientist.
-----
Spock’s mother’s soulmate color was gray.
When he was young, she’d explained to him how the system worked, and her eyes turned gray while she told him. “Most people have two soulmate colors,” she’d said. “One to represent each of you. Usually, one is your happy color for you, and the other is your love color, for your soulmate. Other than that, you and your soulmate have the same colors. I only have one soulmate color, because Sarek only has one color. It represents both. Growing up, I was a bit strange,” she laughed. “Like you.”
Spock was strange.
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Vulcans do not have emotions. Therefore, Vulcans do not have colored eyes.
But Spock did.
And everyone knew.
Once, when Spock was six, he came home with his eyes bright red and his skin marred with green. His mother was sitting in the kitchen.
When she saw him, her eyes turned pale green. Sad.
He ran to his room and cried shameful tears from red-orange eyes and hated himself for making his mother sad and for being sad himself because he was a Vulcan and Vulcans don’t have sad, red eyes.
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When Spock turned seven his father gave him his first pair of eye contacts.
“Thank you, Father,” he’d said, and stared up his father’s gray, neutral, Vulcan eyes.
Spock put in the contacts and there was no red left in his own.
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The night after Spock was given contacts, he could hear his mother yelling at his father through the door.
“How could you do that?”
“It was necessary.”
“His feelings are important, you can’t just--”
“It is not Vulcan to have eyes like his.”
“He’s not just Vulcan!” his mother screamed. “He has one fucking Human trait, and you take it away from me!”
“I was not my intention to--”
“His eyes used to be so much bluer,” said his mother, voice softening. Spock had to strain to hear it. “They’re red so often now. They’re always either red or red-orange. He won’t say it, but I think it means he’s sad.”
“The other children at school notice these things as well,” said his father. “They notice his Human eyes. Do you want Spock to continue being ostracized?”
“Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for his safety,” his mother bit out. “You just want him to be more like you.”
“It is his choice wether he wears the contacts or not,” said his Father, ignoring the accusation.
“Fine,” said his mother, and they were silent.
Spock stared silently at the wall of his room and felt the shame color his eyes.
-----
He wore the contacts. People at school talked less.
So did his mother.
-----
No one at Starfleet academy knew about Spock’s Human eyes. All they saw was gray Vulcan ones.
People still talked about it.
“Vulcan eyes are so weird,” hissed a cadet behind him.
“They kind of creep me out,” whispered another.
“They’re, like, empty and soulless,” agreed the first.
Spock almost felt glad at the fact that they couldn’t tell he was a failure.
Almost.
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Spock’s first medical checkup on the Enterprise, Doctor Boyce, the chief medical officer, looked at him strangely.
“You’re half-Human?” he said incredulously. Spock shifted uncomfortably a bit.
“Yes,” he said, no emotion seeping into his voice.
“You hide it quite well,” laughed Boyce, eyes a bright yellow Spock didn’t know the meaning of. “Although maybe it’s just your eyes.” He stared a little closer. Spock leaned away just enough to be considered a normal reaction instead of an emotional one.
“You know what?” Boyce said, finally getting out of Spock’s face, eyes now tinted a bit greenish. “I can kind of see it.”
Spock didn’t know what color his eyes were under his contacts. All he knew was that he wanted to leave.
-----
Pike was leaving.
They’d worked together for eleven years, four months, five days, and Spock wasn’t supposed to feel anything about it but he did and he didn’t want Pike to leave.
“I’ll miss you, Spock,” Pike said, and Spock didn’t respond, but nodded, barely perceptible. It was enough. Pike smiled, eyes turning a shiny purple flecked with gold, the color they always turned when he looked at Spock, the color he never see at the captain’s chair again, and said “I know.”
And then the new captain beamed up.
-----
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The first color Jim’s eyes ever turned was bright gold.
No one knew what it meant at the time.
But his mother had hugged her baby close to her chest and watched with technicolor red, green and yellow eyes full of wonder and happiness and love as soft eyelids fell over golden irises.
-----
Jim’s eyes were often gold, for wonder.
He would stay up late and stare up at the stars, and his eyes would swirl with gold, and the universe would envelope him. He looked up and got lost in the stars.
Jim was going to be a starship captain.
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Tarsus changed everything.
It was then he learnt what true fear was.
Jim’s fear color was green. It was often mixed with sad red. Christmas eyes, the other kids called it, laughing quietly with their own various shades of fear. And hunger.
He’d never met someone with a hunger color before.
His own hunger color was brown. Sometimes, it was all he could think about.
But he was the oldest. And if Christmas eyes made the others happy, then he wasn’t allowed to be hungry.
-----
After Tarsus, Jim’s eyes were dull.
He heard his parents whisper about sometimes. “His eyes are never gold anymore,” hissed his mother sadly.
“Give him time, Winona.”
“But I’m worried! He’s so skinny, and I’ve never seen his eyes be brown before, it’s not normal--”
“I know.” His father cut her off. “I know,” he sighed.
“It’s just… he’s so sad, all the time, and I just…”
Jim stared out the window, studying the stars, listening to his mother’s sobs with muted, red eyes.
-----
Jim’s eyes were often gold at Starfleet Academy.
He was living out his dream.
He took all the classes he could, spent every minute studying. His friends called him a ‘pile of books on legs.’
Starfleet was all he had.
-----
Sometimes, Jim would lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable or unwilling to move.
His roommate thought red meant lazy.
“C’mon,” yelled Gary, “move your leisurely, red-eyed ass. Help out or I’ll fucking kill you.”
Jim didn’t respond.
-----
Jim’s eyes turned blue too easily.
He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d thought he’d been in love. And yet, every time he thought she was too, he was wrong.
He didn’t think he’d ever find his soulmate.
-----
He was the first cadet to ever beat the Kobayashi Maru.
His eyes turned a prideful pink, mixed in with some gold, and he took in the glory.
Cheating was worth it.
Jim didn’t believe in no-win scenarios.
-----
Jim was a fucking failure.
If he’d just shot the stupid fucking cloud, everyone would still be alive.
This was his fault. He killed them, he killed them with his stupidity, his slowness, his hubris at thinking he could do anything.
And the worst fucking part? He received commendations. For bravery.
He didn’t show up to the ceremony. He curled up in a ball on his bed instead, hiding his shameful red-orange eyes.
He received the medal in the mail later. He threw it away.
-----
His eyes were bright gold and bright pink swirls as he as stood on the transporter pad.
He was going to be a starship captain.
“Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise,” he whispered to himself. He smiled. It sounded right.
“Congrats,” said the Lieutenant at the transporter controls. “You ready to beam up?”
Jim nodded. “Energize.”