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“Alright, next up!” Jim slapped his PADD on the conference room table, looking around at his trusty senior officers who waited semi-patiently to speak on the subject at hand. “Negotiations with Felzinor. I’m excited about this one. First negotiations we’ve had since first contact. Felzinor is the gateway to multiple trade routes in the Berez system and several planets in their vicinity are right on the cusp of achieving warp drive themselves. Yadda yadda trade routes okay, but this planet’s race includes thirty-six distinct biological sexes. How fucking cool is that? And their weather system is sentient. Wicked fucking cool. I believe that’s how you put it, Mr. Spock?”
“I did not,” Spock said, without missing a beat. “However, I do find it quite fascinating.”
“That’s Spock for ‘wicked fucking cool,’” Jim stage whispered.
Around the table Scotty and even Bones stifled chuckles and Uhura rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“Their sentient weather system, in fact, will tie into our trade negotiations,” Spock continued. “The Felzinor people are empathically linked to each other and to their meteorological patterns. This makes communication of any kind a delicate matter, as offense to one Felzian is an offense to them all as well as to the planet itself, and we do not want to cause them an undue natural catastrophe. As well, they will empathically sense our emotions and as they are sensitive humanoids, we must do our level best not only to show the utmost respect and civility but also to control our emotional responses during the negotiations.”
“It’s like this mission was just made for you,” Jim said. “Now you get to tell us to shove all our feelings down into the pit of our stomachs like so many Upper Midwestern Lutherans, but for the right reasons!”
“Or perhaps like so many Vulcans?” Spock said, narrowing his eyes. But Jim saw the little lift at the corner of Spock’s mouth.
“Okay, but you don’t know Upper Midwestern Lutherans,” Jim said with a snort. “They’d give Vulcans a run for their money.”
“Regardless,” Spock went on, “your inference is correct. It would be to our advantage to practice a certain amount of emotional control while we are in negotiations. I have been working with the captain and Lieutenant Uhura to that end for the last two weeks..”
“I also understand the Felzians have, to our standards, a rather peculiar requirement upon opening negotiations?” Jim said. “Uhura, if you’ll enlighten us?”
“Yes, Captain.” Uhura folded her hands on the table and took a breath, looking a little more rattled than Jim was used to seeing her. “As you might imagine, given the emotional and empathic sensitivity of the Felzians and their connection to the planet itself and each other, they place a premium on interpersonal communion. Even affection. They are both physically and verbally affectionate quite often. This maintains a positive temperament, which is important for the good of the population as well as their planet. There has been…debate amongst the Felzians as to what they would require of the negotiators Starfleet would send them. But in the end, they have decided that as a gesture of good faith, they ask that the lead negotiators, which will be you, Captain, and Mr. Spock, take part in…their tradition.”
Jim nodded and frowned, exchanging a slightly befuddled expression with Spock, who seemed equally bemused. “Uhura, that was a whole lot of talking and you still haven’t said what the thing is.”
“Right. Right.” Uhura nodded. “So…You must kiss.”
“Ah!” Kirk clapped his hands. “Geez, what’re you acting so weird about, Uhura? So I kiss a Felzian? I know it’s always awkward for Spock. Sorry about that, buddy. But shit’s gotten to be practically routine by now. Remember the eh…what was it? Oh! The Dinars! I went in for that handshake and the ambassador accused me of attempted assault and then when it was all over and we were pals, he was practically humping my leg because that’s just how they say ‘let’s do lunch’ over there. Ya never know. Anyway, sure. A kiss. Cool, cool. I’ll make sure my breath is minty fresh. Or…ya know what, I’ll check in on their taste preferences. There was that one planet in the Rigel system where all their excrement was very minty. They thought my breath was disgusting. But when I explained, they laughed about it.”
“Sir,” Uhura said, her stare unsettlingly deep. “You don’t understand.”
“Uh ohhhh,” Bones sang lowly.
“What am I missing?” Jim said, cocking his head.
“You,” Uhura said, pointing at him and then his First Officer, “and Mr. Spock have to kiss each other. And not just a peck, sir. A full-on embrace. With a modest amount of tongue. That was very clear in the brief they sent.”
Next to Jim, Spock breathed in deeply and said, “Ah.”
Jim stared at Uhura. “Uh… Can you check it again?”
“Sir,” Uhura said.
“No, I’m kidding.” Jim waved a hand. “Just… I didn’t see that one coming.”
Jim’s good mood had immediately soured, and now the thudding and terrible reality was all he would be able to think about, he was sure. How was supposed to focus on the negotiations after kissing Spock? How in the hell was he supposed to kiss Spock and control his emotions?
“This seems unreasonable,” Jim muttered. The back of his neck felt too hot. There was a curiously sharp pain in his wrists. His mind was flipping out and informing his body there was cause to flip out. Jim gestured in Spock’s direction. “I-I mean, what about Spock? Sure, it’s easy for me. I’ll kiss anybody, but Spock, ya know, physical intimacy is not casual for-”
“I assure you,” Spock said, no less bemused, “I have no problem with this requirement.”
Jim shut his eyes, grimacing. “No, I know you say that…You don’t have to agree to this, Spock-”
“Captain, while Vulcans do exchange such intimate gestures far less casually than many humans, and far less casually than you in particular-”
“Hey.”
“It is by no means a hardship for me,” Spock said. “It is far more important that these negotiations proceed without incident than that I should be mildly uncomfortable for…a minute or two at most.”
“We’re kissing for two minutes?!”
“It was an estimate of the length of my proposed discomfort, not of the kiss itself,” Spock said, raising his eyebrow.
“Yeah. Okay.” Jim nodded, unable to restrain the blush that colored his cheeks. “Okay, but…Jesus, they really specified tongue?”
“Is the thought of such an intimacy with me truly so repellent to you?” Spock said sharply.
Jim clenched his jaw, sliding into nine singular forms of agony. “Um. No, no, it’s…not that-”
“Carefullll,” Bones sang out softly.
“Certainly, it must be,” Spock said. “As you were so willing to kiss Felzians you have not even met yet-”
“It’s a lot different when it’s someone I’m friends with, alright? I-I don’t like being forced to kiss my friend. And in front of all of Felzinor. But it’s fine,” Jim said, gritting his teeth. “Sorry. Yeah, yep. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Is that all then? Good, okay. Mr. Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, and myself will be landing on Felzinor tomorrow at 0800. Dismissed.”
Jim avoided Spock’s glower, staring down at his PADD and pretending to work on a report while under the table he jogged his leg and the senior officers filed out, each of them sending him a wary glance, with the exception of Bones, who lingered behind and watched the others leave.
When they were alone, Bones leaned forward across from Jim and said, “Jim-”
“I’m so fucked!” Jim’s head dropped, hitting his PADD with a thunk.
“Maybe not!” Bones countered. “Listen-”
“Do you even know all the psionically sensitive spots on Vulcans, Bones?” Jim said, raising his head again.
“Of course-”
“The fingertips. That’s fine. So I try to avoid Spock’s hands whenever I can and if he does make skin to skin contact, it’s only for a second. Not enough to get anything too strongly and then only superficial feelings. But I’m careful! Then the meld points, Bones. Temple, cheek, mouth! They place the thumb under the mouth during a meld out of sheer politeness. Do you have any idea how psionically sensitive a Vulcan’s mouth is? The tongue? A lip to lip kiss is practically a mind meld in itself!”
“That’s not entirely true-”
“He’s going to know.” Jim’s voice shook, and he sat back, staring pleadingly at his best friend. “Bones,” Jim whispered. “It’ll ruin everything. Everything we’ve built since… since Khan, since the very beginning. He won’t look at me the same.”
“You’re making too much of this,” Bones insisted. “I’ve always thought so. So you’re in love with him, so what? He knows humans have messy emotions. God knows he does, even if he, ya know, represses them until they come exploding out in a fit of rage or whatever. I’m not saying it won’t be awkward for a while, but…”
“Awkward…” Jim shook his head. “You don’t get it. He cares about me a lot. I do know that. Of course, I do. He cares enough that he’ll blame himself for not loving me back. And he’ll feel that too hard and… I don’t want that for him. He’s been through enough, for fuck’s sake. And it’s not just that. It’s like… It’s like as long as he doesn’t know, then I can pretend there was ever a chance. But if we kiss? I mean, once we kiss, even I’ll know how he’s not in love with me. For good. Confirmation. I’ll be able to tell. And then…” He frowned, digging his thumbnail into the edge of the table. “Then I won’t have that what if anymore. I know I should be down on my knees thanking fuck I’m alive and I get to be on this ship with him every single day and believe me, I am thanking fuck. But that what if? Some days that keeps me going. When he looks at me a certain way, I think, what if… And I get so happy. Until reality crashes back in, anyway.”
“First of all,” Bones said, tapping his forefinger. “He might feel the same way-”
“Fuck offff.”
“Second, you’re not telepathic, Jimmy my boy. You’re not going to magically know-”
“Of course, I will. It’s in his kiss. That’s where it is. Always. There’s a whole song about it. Cher covered it even!”
Bones opened his mouth and closed it again. “Eh… Which one is Cher again?”
“Oh my God, there’s a whole planet in the Omicron system that worships Cher. I’ve explained this.”
“Oh, her. Right. Still, it’ll be a formal performance type of kiss. You can’t go by that.”
“There’s tongue.”
“Well…yeah. Okay. I have an idea.”
“Save me.”
“Why don’t you take a page from Spock’s book?” Bones said. “He’s got those mental telepathic blocks, right? So other telepaths can’t read him? Didn’t he teach you how to do that once?”
“He’s taught me how to do that several times,” Jim mumbled. “Hmm. They’re sort of difficult to maintain for me. I’m pretty weak at it. He could knock those right down.”
“He definitely could, given more than a minute,” Bones countered. “But it’s just one kiss and everybody’s watching. He’ll probably be surprised you’re using them at all. And he’ll be distracted by the kiss itself. Plus, this is Spock. He’s not going to just knock down your mental shields out of, what, curiosity? He’ll respect your privacy.”
“Hope he’s not hurt by it,” Jim said, leaning on his hand. “He was already pretty offended I didn’t want to kiss him.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be?”
“Can’t relate. Everyone wants a piece of this.”
“Pfft! Yeah!” Bones hooted. “Big talker!”
“Generally.” Jim shrugged. “Alright, I guess if he asks, I’ll just tell him I thought it would be wise to use mental shields around the empaths. Just in case. Of.. things. That are…mind readish.”
“Maybe polish up the language before you throw that at him.”
“Shut up.”
Jim was already in his pajamas and pacing his quarters, practicing the shielding exercises Spock had taught him. He’d consulted his notes and some basic research on the subject to brush up. The last thing he expected was a contrite looking Spock at his door, hands clasped behind his back, and wearing a grim frown.
“Spock, hey.” Jim stepped back, smiling weakly. “What can I do for you?”
“I am not interrupting, Captain?”
“No, of course not.” Jim rubbed his hands together, feeling a little vulnerable in his faded old Academy t-shirt and flannel pants. “Actually, I want to say, I’m s-”
“I apologize, sir,” Spock murmured. He cleared his throat and said more loudly, “I am sorry, Jim. Truly. For my…emotional reaction in the briefing.”
“Uh…oh?” Jim only blinked at him. “Well, I didn’t expect that. An apology, I mean. But hey, it’s okay. I know how I must have sounded.”
“It is certainly not okay,” Spock insisted. “I spoke to Lieutenant Uhura.” He grimaced, wincing to himself. “Or rather, I was yelled at by Lieutenant Uhura. She believed I was quite unfair to you in how I responded. The term “slut shaming” made an appearance. Additionally, she reminded me that the both of us are, in a matter of speaking, being somewhat coerced into this intimate situation and that while I might be comfortable with it, that does mean you are, regardless of your sexual proclivities or history. She asked me to imagine what I would think if she were in your position and a co-worker was reacting as I did. And I saw what she meant. So, I apologize.”
“I appreciate that.” Jim hadn’t thought it was possible to feel worse about the situation. He rubbed his forehead, squinting. “Really though, it’s not because I don’t want to- or, I mean it’s-it’s not-”
“You are anxious because you believe our interactions following may become awkward,” Spock said.
Jim sighed in relief. Finally, a question he could just answer honestly. “Yes. Exactly.”
Spock stepped forward into his space and Jim’s hands disappeared behind his back, just in case Spock randomly decided to touch him as some kind of consolation. “Jim,” Spock said softly. “You must know that your friendship is deeply important to me. It has become one of the most formative relationships of my life. Of which I have few. It is much more important than any awkward exchange of physical intimacy for a diplomatic function. I can certainly promise you that absolutely nothing will change between us after tomorrow.”
Jim’s heart, which had taken a little leap off the high dive of his emotional pool as it always did whenever Spock was so physically close and getting touchy-feely, now took a plunge straight into a concrete slab, painfully faceplanting. He managed a tight smile. “Thank you,” he said, choking on the words. “That’s great. That’s awesome.”
“I am pleased you understand,” Spock said. “Were you going straight to bed or are you available for a game or two of chess?”
Jim’s injured heart lifted its sore head and sighed, slightly mollified. “I would love to play some chess, Mr. Spock.”
Jim got a bit less sleep than usual, but by the morning, he was ready. This mission seemed like some kind of insane test of his mental, intellectual, and emotional abilities. Felzinor looked to be a significant new player in the Federation and the brass was looking at this as the most important step after First Contact. Jim was expected to lead negotiations that would go down in history books, maintain emotional control so as not to piss off the planet’s weather system, and keep up telepathic shields to block out his own First Officer, the one he was supposed to kiss in front of everyone and with whom he was madly in love.
Just another fuckin’ day.
Yet at 0800 on the dot, Jim was in the transporter room where Lieutenant Uhura immediately accosted him with a rubbery wristband. “The president’s staff on Felzinor sent these.” She fitted one band on Kirk’s left wrist and did the same for Spock. The bands were white, a tiny strip of a digital screen around them. “These bands measure heart rate, body temperature, a multitude of biodata that can be translated into emotional responses. The band will color yellow to red if your emotional reactions are overly negative. Light blue to purple for positive responses. Neutrality is encouraged. We don’t really know how this population of linked empaths and its weather will respond to us. Now, if it rains, that’s not necessarily a bad sign. Rain is sometimes associated with feelings of happiness, euphoria, and passion on Felzinor. Still, try to keep things on as even a keel as possible?”
“Understood,” Kirk said, nodding, a stack of PADDS under his arm.
“Captain,” Spock said. “I hope you were paying attention during our multiple trainings on emotional controls?”
Jim stared at him blankly. “Does this response answer your question, Commander?”
“No jokes?” Uhura said. “I’m almost impressed.”
“Let’s get down there,” Jim said. “Don’t want to be late. Introductory ceremony starts in fifteen minutes.”
Jim was on the ball. Beyond getting the job done in life and death situations, there was a kind of glee he took in not just surpassing expectations but blowing them out of the water. Even the glee he now kept muted. If nothing else, it was important to periodically remind his crew that he was capable of shelving his cocky persona and playing the dead serious captain even when people weren’t actually shooting at them. Spock, he knew by now, did not need reminding, even if he was constantly infuriated by Jim’s schtick.
The transporter beams shimmered and the three of them, plus two crew people from security, arrived in the plaza of Felzinor’s capitol square. The capitol building in front of them was a towering and sprawling stone structure, all domes and pillars. The plaza grounds were a stone tile mosaic of the planet broken up by flowering hedges. Crowds of cheerful onlookers were cordoned off, Felzian citizens all cheering upon their arrival. Jim sent them a friendly wave and received a raucous response of hooting and cooing sounds as the Felzian president and their entourage stepped forward.
The Felzians had skin tones ranging from stark white to lavender to a deep royal purple and the president was on the darker side, their resplendent amber robes setting off their complexion. A curving ridge atop their forehead rose into a point which looked like a hat at first glance.
Jim made sure to take note of the weather. Breezy, warm but not hot, partly cloudy.
If the weather took a downturn, it was likely their fault.
He glanced at his wristband, reminding himself to pay attention to it. The little screen was a blank white.
Jim bowed low, as Uhura had taught him. “President T’nnk’ing Liuuzin Ssssk. We are honored to be your guests on this auspicious occasion.”
Uhura sent him an approving nod for his pronunciation.
Jim was good at this part. The greetings, the pomp and circumstance. It was all made easier by the fact that the Feliznors were very happy about joining the Federation. The negotiations concerned their desire to exchange access to their trade routes for technology, mining rights, and weaponry. Their demands made the Federation nervous at so early a stage. Jim Kirk’s job was partly to charm.
All too soon, Jim, Spock, and Uhura were seated at an absurdly long table across from a separate absurdly long table where the president sat with their entourage. Jim nodded a greeting at every Felzian he saw. They all looked so perky. He wondered if they had evolved to remain upbeat most of the time despite circumstance.
Two cameras that had been following them around since their beam up were now set up at the end of the crowded table as the negotiations would be broadcast live all over the planet.
President Sssk made a long speech. Jim paid close attention to every word, sitting up straight and keeping quiet, his hands folded on the table as valets set beverages and small plates of refreshments in front of them.
Jim internally processed a kind of diagnostic on his mental shielding. It felt firm enough. Luckily, you didn’t need any psionic ability to create some basic blocks against telepaths. They weren’t very powerful walls; he was sure. But hopefully they would do for his purpose. Still, with the combination of shields and emotional controls, he felt like his head was full of scaffolding and sloppily constructed buildings. Spock’s mind, he was certain, was probably a beautifully built metropolis. Like something designed by master architects.
“...And today we open negotiations with the Federation on matters of great importance,” President Sssk went on. “Joining us is Starfleet’s best. Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise, his First Officer, Commander S’chn T’Gai Spock, and their senior communications officer, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura… Please join me in showing our appreciation.”
The Felzinors hooted with a high pitched cooing sound and Jim joined Spock and Uhura in nodding politely to acknowledge the welcome. “And now we will commence with one of our most time-honored traditions, the kisses of communion and accord.”
Jim breathed in and out and focused on an internal image he’d created to imagine sorting sparks of emotion. Old-fashioned file cabinets, stacked one on top of the other. Boring. Unremarkable. Incredibly neutral. Anxiety was a manila folder disappearing into a cabinet. Anticipation disappeared behind it. He glanced down at his bracelet. Still white. He glanced at Spock’s wrist on the table next to him. His bracelet was turning a pale yellow and then before his eyes it faded back into white, then a bright blue-green and just as quickly yellow again.
“Spock,” Jim leaned towards his XO, as two of the Felzian negotiators got to their feet to kiss each other, “Are you alright?”
“Yes, Captain.” Spock flinched, as if caught out. But a moment later, his bracelet turned white and did not change color again. Jim watched the Felzian negotiators embrace each other, their lips meeting in a kiss that was at first sweet and modest and then immediately much more passionate, at least according to Jim’s human standards.
Immediately, Jim thought: We should have rehearsed this.
But how would that have gone? Kissing practice with Spock? And he would have needed shields. Jim glanced at Spock again. His lips were slightly parted. He seemed transfixed by the kissing performance. Jim couldn’t help it. He imagined himself in his quarters the previous night, in his pajamas. Maybe he would have chuckled at their strange predicament while quelling all his internal butterflies. Spock would be all business. But then Jim would be in his arms and that curious curved mouth of his would be warm and soft and sensual and then Spock would shove his hand down Jim’s pants-
He blinked, shaking himself out of the fantasy, and winced when he looked down at his bracelet turning a neon purple color. That was still positive at least, right? Did purple on these bracelets stand for horny?
I put this fantasy in my file cabinet. I put the horny in the very back of the file cabinet. I lock up the file cabinet.
Quickly, his emotions dissipated. His bracelet was only pale blue. That was acceptable.
“And now,” President Sssk announced, “our negotiators working on behalf of the Federation, Captain Kirk and his First Officer, Mr. Spock, will partake in the kiss of communion.”
Jim’s reserve was immaculate. He tapped on the mental shields in his mind again, as if knocking to test their strength. Good enough. Outwardly, he impersonated Spock on his best Vulcan day. Not a hair out of place, not a twitch of a smile, as he needed all the possible emotional control he could manage to pull this off. He stood and nodded in the president’s direction as Mr. Spock stood. Behind them, two valets quietly pulled their chairs back to give them a bit of room.
Jim wasn’t sure if he was imagining the flicker of terror in Spock’s eyes, but he tried to project calm as much as he could while not giving a single thing away. Stiffly, he nodded at Spock and imitated the embrace of the Felzian negotiators. He wrapped his arm around Spock’s waist and cradled Spock’s cheek with his left hand and did not hesitate, leaning in to meet Spock’s lips with his own.
Emotions battered his file cabinets. Jim filed them all away before they could even be felt. He accomplished this, it seemed, merely by willing it. It was a little like trying to juggle several balls while riding a unicycle backwards and doing calculus. He disassociated, as if looking down on himself kissing Spock.
There is my mouth kissing Spock’s mouth. His mouth is warmer than I imagined and oh, there’s his tongue slipping in and touching my tongue and his hand is on my lower back and he’s gripping the back of my uniform. Doing an excellent job, Mr. Spock. Our lips are sliding together. And I will not think about how he tastes or the press of his chest against mine or his hands sliding up my back or…that tongue curling like that, don’t think about that.
Some small and distracted part of Jim thought there was more passion on Spock’s end than he’d expected, and he was not certain he was responding at all. Mortifying. He had always been considered an exceptional kisser. He wondered if there was any chance at all Spock was actually enjoying this? But the Felzians had kissed each other pretty passionately, and according to the brief, none of them were romantically linked. Spock was probably just doing a great job at this because Spock did a great job at everything. Meanwhile, Jim looked down on himself kissing the love of his life for the first time with all the enthusiasm of a frightened trout.
So maybe Betty Everett and Cher had both been wrong. But they’d never been in this particular situation, to Jim’s knowledge.
With so many things to keep track of internally, Jim hardly had time to process the kiss. On top of that, he was counting alligators. Uhura had suggested they kiss for approximately fifteen alligators. Which had seemed like a long time when he’d thought about it, but felt more like two seconds.
Finally, Jim pulled away even as Spock fell slightly forward, chasing his lips.
“Spock,” Jim whispered. He glanced down at Spock’s bracelet, which kept flashing orange and then blue and then purple. Hmm. Purple? None of that now. Jim squeezed Spock’s shoulder. “Spock, breathe. It’s okay.”
There was a ripple of murmurs in the crowd and outside, through the floor to ceiling windows, a cyclonic little wind picked up.
Shit, Jim thought. I knew this would bother him.
A Vulcan making out with his captain and it was broadcast all over a planet? Recorded for posterity? It had to be Spock’s worst nightmare.
Spock swallowed and stepped back with a little jerk, pressing his lips together. “Mm.”
People were politely hooting again. Jim said quietly in Spock’s ear, “First break is in forty-five minutes. Hang in there.” He took his seat.
Spock sat down a little clumsily and stared at nothing, his eyelashes fluttering and then all at once he settled, his bracelet turning something close to pale peach. It was surprising. Jim hadn’t been worried about Spock’s emotional controls in the least. Next to him, Uhura leaned over to whisper in Spock’s ear and they murmured back and forth a few times as Jim turned to face the opposing negotiators again.
The negotiations began.
“It’s odd, isn’t it? The Felzians?” Jim said.
They were taking the first of several short breaks, secreted away in a small sitting room off the great hall. Jim wished for coffee but drank a Felzian beverage similar to hibiscus tea instead, and leaned against a pillar. He’d maintained pretty stellar emotional control so far, if he did say so himself. Made much easier by having dropped his mental shields once the kiss was over. Bit of a risk. There was always the chance Spock would knock on his brain again when he got the chance, if he happened to wonder why Kirk was using shields in the first place. But the Felzinor situation was too important. He needed all his concentration. “They seem like such a peaceful people. But they’re so focussed on weapons tech.”
No opening offers had been made yet. Both sides had presented their needs, desires, and goals. Now everyone was privately convening.
“From what I’ve gleaned studying their culture and history,” Uhura said, “this is more a matter of defense than any warlike attitude. They are very aware of threats within the Federation, and I suspect they don’t want to have to rely solely on support from Starfleet.”
“Everything they present I have to bring to the Federation before it can be solidified,” Jim said, gesturing vaguely with his teacup. “I’d prefer not going to them with ‘gimme all your big guns’ from the jump. I mean, wouldn’t you agree, Spock?”
Jim turned to Spock, who stood in a corner by the bookcase, an identical teacup in his hand. He was staring blankly at the opposite wall, looking a bit dazed. “Spock?”
“Uh!” Spock startled, his tea sloshing over. “I apologize, Captain.”
“Well, do you agree?”
“Yes. That is, no. No, I do not.”
“No?” Jim couldn’t help a little smirk. He had not smirked all day and his face was sore for lack of smirking.
“We should... present a generous offer,” Spock said. “To begin with.”
“And what if it’s more generous than the Federation is willing to meet?” Jim said slowly.
“Then we rescind it.”
“Like a bluff?” Jim exchanged a mild expression of surprise with Uhura. “Spock, I’ve been a terrible influence on you. I’m with you in spirit. But not in this case. No, in situations like these, I look to the wisdom of classical Terran poets.” He drained the rest of his tea and set the cup on a side table. “And as one of them so eloquently wrote, ‘don’t pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang.’”
“And who wrote that?” Spock said.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “André 3000. Uhura, you go ahead back to the table. I need to talk to Spock for a sec?”
Uhura glanced at Spock and made her way out. Spock, who had been slightly slumped, stood up straight and cocked his head. “Captain?”
Jim filed away aggravation, a good amount of surprise, and not a little impatience. He fixed Spock with his most serious Captain’s Stare. “Spock, your head’s not in the game. I need it to get there.”
“I assure you, Cap-”
“No,” Jim said firmly. Spock reeled slightly and met Jim’s stare. “Your head. Is not. In the game. Your bracelet is, what color is that? Like chartreuse? I don’t know what’s going on, but this is a planet of empaths we still don’t know a lot about yet, and you are a telepath. If you believe they’ve compromised you in some way, I need you to say so now and I’ll send you back to the ship, have Bones check you out.”
“No,” Spock said, staring down at the floor. “I do not believe that is the case.”
“I didn’t think I’d have to worry about you of all people for this,” Jim muttered. “Maybe take a minute in here. Meditate or something.”
“I will,” he said, and when Kirk started to leave, he said, “Captain!”
“Yeah?” Jim paused at the door. “What?”
“When did you start using mental shielding?”
Get fucked, anxiety. Into the file cabinet. “Later, Spock.”
“Of course.”
Jim returned to the table, and at the table he found himself losing track of a sudden concern for Spock, while among the Felzian staffers a grumbling susurrus rose and outside the sky had grown greyer. His bracelet was an ombre of a very light orange fading into yellow and pink. Weird. He closed his eyes and breathed, composing himself until he didn’t have to look at his bracelet to know he was emotionally neutral.
You got this. Spock’s fine. It’s the damn kiss messing with you.
But he wasn’t going to think about that now.
He opened his eyes and folded his hands on the table just as Spock sat down next to him and Jim noticed with some relief that his bracelet was white.
Jim winked at him. “We got this. And when it’s over, we’ll party.”
“As you say, Captain,” Spock said smoothly.
Some rebellious little emotional core of Jim whispered, That’s my guy. He squashed the thought.
“Hey, fantastic job, everybody.” Jim relaxed in his chair at the conference table. The senior officers were all looking self-congratulatory and more relaxed than usual. They all deserved it, Jim thought. “We made a very reasonable deal with Felzinor and we didn’t cause any upset or scary weather events. I want to thank Lieutenant Uhura in particular. Nyota, none of this would have been possible without you.”
“I don’t disagree,” Uhura said, smiling a little sly. “But you really pulled it off, Captain. You and Mr. Spock. Congratulations.”
“The congratulations is entirely due to the captain’s efforts,” Spock said, looking slightly pained. “Congratulations, Captain.”
“Well, I think they’re due to all three of us,” Kirk insisted. “But thanks, Mr. Spock. They’ll be finalizing things with the Federation and in a few weeks we’ll be coming right back around for a celebratory banquet on Felzinor. So keep those emotion tracking bracelets handy. Meanwhile, we have a light day on our way out of this system. So take the time to relax and if you want me, I’ll be inhaling White Russians in the lounge. Just don’t tell Pavel or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Everyone filed out, with the exception of Spock, who lingered uncertainly in his seat as Jim clicked through some tedious paperwork on his PADD. Jim tried not to let his imagination run away with him. Maybe Spock had felt something during the kiss. It had all gone by so quickly and the circumstances were so strange that Jim could hardly trust himself to read into what he’d felt. He wasn’t even sure what felt. Spock had smelled amazing up close and his lips felt good on Jim’s lips, even in such an awkward context. Spock’s body felt perfect in his arms. Beyond that, he had no clue. Which was better than the outright certainty that his feelings were unrequited.
“Spock?” Jim pretended to be very busy on his PADD. “What’s up? You seem perturbed.”
“I was curious, Captain,” Spock said, folding his hands in his lap. “How long you have been using mental shielding?”
Shit.
“Ah, that again?” Jim shrugged, as if it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t worried since their return from Felizinor that Spock would follow up on that little detail. “You asked me that before.”
“And you have not answered,” Spock pointed out.
“Right. Um…” Jim huffed through his lips. “I don’t. I just busted that out for this mission. Planet of empaths and all. Thought it would be a good idea for the captain to have a little extra protection, just in case.”
“That is logical…”
Phew.
“However-”
Fuck.
“It seems odd to me that you did not ask for my assistance.” Spock wasn’t looking at Jim. He was frowning at the conference table. “Additionally, you were not using mental shielding throughout this mission on Felizonor. You dropped the shielding immediately after the kiss of communion. Our kiss of communion.”
Jim was pretty sure every drop of blood in his body had rushed up into his face. Caught out in a lie like an idiot kid. What the hell was he supposed to say now?
The captain card, Jim thought. The only viable play.
“And how do you know that, Mr. Spock?” Jim shifted into his captain’s tone.
“It was not deliberate.” Spock stood, hands clasped, looming over Jim. “My hand brushed your wrist while we were seated. I saw only a glimpse of your mind. At the time, you were entirely focused on the negotiations. Your emotions were so muted I might have taken you for a Vulcan. Well, perhaps a Vulcan child. And you were no longer shielding.”
“Fine,” Jim murmured. “Yes. I was shielding from you. Is that really so crazy?”
“It is understandable,” Spock said, though he seemed to wilt slightly. “I would have thought you would come to me with any concerns. I may have overestimated your trust in me-”
“No!” Jim all but leapt to his feet. “Spock, I do trust you.” He shut his eyes. If he ended up screwing up this friendship in an effort not to screw up the friendship, he’d never forgive himself. “I apologize. I really do. Look, humans aren’t used to telepathy. You know that. I just…I guess I freaked out a little.”
“You allowed him into your mind.” Spock’s mouth snapped shut and he grimaced, glancing away.
“Who? Oh, the other Spock?”
“Have you participated in a second mind meld I am not aware of?”
“Ah…” He couldn’t help rolling his eyes a little. It was something Spock had brought up once or twice before, and it never failed to baffle Jim. He figured it must have something to do with Vulcan propriety. “So you’re like jealous? Of the other you?”
“Certainly not.”
Jim thought Spock sounded unusually prissy about it and he was positive Spock was lying. He had not even considered straight up jealousy. The thought was kind of adorable.
“Spock, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jim said. “Do you want to mind meld right now?”
“You did not offend me,” Spock insisted. “And I do not require you to placate me.”
“Hmm.” Jim pursed his lips and walked up to Spock, close enough that those curiously curved lips were again within kissing range. “Then what are we talking about? Or are we talking about the kiss, Spock?”
Spock cocked his head and with an utterly blank face said, “The kiss was of no consequence. I apologize for troubling you.”
The fuck.
With that, Spock turned on his heel and left, and Jim’s heart sank slowly down into his lower intestine.
It was all too clear to Jim as he brooded over White Russians in the lounge and put on the persona of the jovial captain that evening. Spock cared for him, sure. As a captain, as a friend. He’d miscalculated to a disastrous degree. Spock cared about their connection as Captain and First Officer and he cared about their friendship. He valued the trust between them. So did Jim! Maybe Spock would have even understood if Jim had been straight with him. Maybe he would have been able to overlook Jim’s stupid feelings.
That night, all he could think about was whether he should just spill it all to Spock.
But he did not.
He was seven kinds of drunk when he finally stumbled into his quarters that night, clumsily stripping off his uniform before falling into bed. He would let it play out. Spock would probably get over it. It wasn’t something he was going to leave over. They’d get back to where they were and it would be fine, and Jim would get back to the status quo of being deeply in love with that infinitely beautiful soul or katra or whatever who would never love him back.
The next day, Jim walked onto the bridge and nodded his good morning to Spock, and Spock nodded back as if nothing had happened and Jim congratulated himself on being right.
Things were the same, but they were also not the same and Jim couldn’t put his finger on it.
One day bled tediously into the next, and it was almost like his bout of depression after coming back from the dead.
Weeks went by of Jim going through the motions before the thought occurred to him: Now you know for sure and that’s why you’re so sad.
The fantasy was gone. The what if had been answered.
The kiss is of no consequence.
He doesn’t love me, Jim thought. He’ll never love me.
On days when all his focus and will went into the business of the Enterprise, he didn’t think of it much. On days with any room for the business of a life, it was all he could think about. Spock didn’t love him and Jim was absolutely certain that he would never love anyone but Spock.
So. That was cool.
The days dragged on and before Jim knew it, they were due back on Felzinor for the celebration of their entrance into the Federation and the mutually beneficial negotiations Jim had led. He dug his dress uniform and the emotions tracking bracelet out of a drawer. The pressure, as far as maintaining an emotional balance, was lessened. Lately he’d felt not much at all anyway, so he wasn’t worried about causing a tornado or anything equally catastrophic. All he had to do was attend a big banquet and be charming, make a short speech, and try to ignore Spock looking very hot in his dress uniform.
The banquet was held in the Hanging Gardens of Empyaza, a multilevel public garden suspended over the river that ran through the capitol just around the corner from an opera house. It was all very glitzy and just because they were in the neighborhood, Admiral April, Admiral Komack, and Ambassador Sarek would also be attending, though just before beaming down to Felzinor, Jim received word that they were running late.
Down on the planet, Jim glad handed and stuck a phony smile on his face and avoided the looks Spock kept shooting him. Spock had been shooting him enigmatic looks for days.
What have I done this time? He couldn’t help but wonder. But if Spock had a problem, he would just have to bring it up himself. Jim had been doing his damndest to play things the way Spock seemed to want to play them. He kept things professional, but he also tried to show Spock he trusted him. What else was he supposed to do?
At least his crew was having a good time. For the purposes of the celebration, the Enterprise crew had been invited to the banquet and issued bracelets after receiving basic training on maintaining a stable emotional temperament. A skeleton crew remained on board (receiving some extra time off in exchange).
So far, everyone seemed very happy. Jim wasn’t. His bracelet was gray. He didn’t even know what gray meant. But it had not had much impact on the weather or the Felzians, from what he could tell. Though overhead, there was one angry looking cloud gathering above the opera house. Jim couldn’t help wondering if that one was for him. Rain was sometimes a happy type of weather, Nyota had said. What about dark clouds?
“Captain?”
Jim was leaning on a stone railing and looking out over the city, sipping a glass of very dry blue wine. He looked up and sighed as Spock approached, his dress uniform fitted perfectly across his chest. One little lock of Vulcan bang had departed the coiffure and drifted over his left eye.
“You need something, Spock?” Jim said.
“No…” Spock stopped short. His bracelet was a pale brownish pink. “That is, Ambassador Sarak and the admirals’ shuttle will be arriving at the Enterprise soon. And then they will be beaming down.”
“Good.” Jim drained his glass of wine.
“I wish to speak to you.”
“Sure.”
“Not as your First Officer.”
Jim leaned against the railing and frowned at his empty wineglass. But there were no servers near him. The top level of the gardens was pretty empty, and it was starting to sprinkle. Happy rain or sad rain? Had his own stupid heart made it drizzle?
“Okay,” Jim muttered. “As a friend, then?”
“No…” Spock grimaced. Or rather, there was the barest twitch of his features that Jim interpreted as a grimace.
“So what, as an enemy? A Vulcan? Help me out here.”
“Jim.” Spock spoke softly, but with so much emotion that Jim looked up with a start. “You are not yourself. You have not been yourself for many weeks.”
“Just in a funk.” Jim shrugged, and put on his best shit-eating-grin, though it came out discomfitingly rictus. “I’ll get over it.”
“It is apparent to me that you have not been yourself since we completed our mission on Feliznor,” Spock said.
“What is it, Spock?” Jim bit out. “My efficiency is down? I’m not taking the job seriously enough for you-”
“Your efficiency is not down,” Spock said, taking another step closer. “And you are simply too driven and competent to not take the job seriously despite your usual light-hearted demeanor. In fact, you are too serious and…and-”
“Spock?”
“And I do not like it.” Spock snapped. “You do not smile, Captain. You have thirty-seven distinct smiles and grins and only three of them have made an appearance in my presence in the last four weeks and six days, and they are of the sort that are not even true smiles. They are placating and artificial. You have not snorted a laugh once since Felzinor, or high-fived Lieutenant Sulu. Twice in the last six days Nyota has left open the opportunity for you to respond ‘that’s what she said’ and you just left it there. And three times in the last four weeks and six days we have fought or evaded threatening enemies and on none of those occasions when the danger had passed did you fire finger guns at Ensign Chekov. You did not fire finger guns, Jim. And you did not then blow imaginary gun smoke from the barrels of the imaginary guns and then twirl and holster the imaginary guns and then tip an imaginary hat at Ensign Chekov and say, ‘That’s how us Iowa cowboys do it.’”
“And…” Jim blinked at him. “You miss all that?”
“Evidently,” Spock said with a huff. “Yes. I do. I believe the fault is mine.”
“No.” Jim shook his head. “I appreciate that you’re worried or-”
“I lied to you.” Spock’s voice cracked. Jim couldn’t remember hearing it do that before. “I claimed I was not jealous of my counterpart’s mind meld with you.”
“Well, I knew that was a lie.”
Spock went on as if Jim hadn’t spoken. “In the three years of our mission, there has been no need for us to share a mind meld. I have, quite illogically, wished there were. In my weakest moments, I have cursed my counterpart, because he has been inside your mind and I have not. And I…I desire it. So much that when we kissed and I came up against your psionic shields, they were a kind of rejection I was not prepared for. While at the same time we were…” His gaze drifted to Kirk’s mouth. “But you were not there. I was seeking your mind as well as seeking… I was seeking reciprocation. And you were not there.”
Jim’s head was ringing. A strong wind had picked up as it rained, yet at the same time, the sun was shining bright beams through the few stormy clouds overhead. He heard singing from the Felznor crowds in the gardens below. The raindrops on his lips tasted sweet.
“But you said the kiss was of no consequence!” Jim said, speaking loudly over the wind and rain. The Felzians were cooing and whooping and hollering. People in the city streets below were dancing. The rain was beginning to pour.
“It was of no consequence on your end!” Spock said. The wind blew his hair back. His eyes looked almost unnaturally bright, his lips dark. “I did not consciously know how much I wanted your kiss until I was kissing you. How much I wanted your mind. How much I wanted… how much I want you and you did not kiss me back!”
“Oh, I’ll show you a fucking kiss,” Jim hissed and, grabbing Spock by the front of his dress uniform, he yanked him forward and their lips met for the second time.
Their second kiss could not have been more different from their first. There were no cameras to broadcast them, no attempt at all to contain their passion as Jim kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, sucking on his top lip and then nudging his mouth open. Spock melted into Jim, his skin seeming unnaturally warm under the chill rain. And meanwhile, without even meaning to, Jim’s mind embraced Spock just as ardently as his body. Falling into Spock’s mind felt like every impulsive death defying jump Jim had ever taken. It was leaping from a Corvette just missing the cliff-side except instead of hitting the dirt and knowing that leap had meant not much really; he fell into Spock who met him with such an unmistakable and shocking fury of love that Jim was breathless at the very audacity of a Vulcan containing it.
By comparison, Jim’s mind felt like a mess. It was as if he were dashing around his chaotic dormitory in Academy, collecting all the love he had for Spock and shoving it at him. Here it is, he thought, piled up on the bed, and stuffed in all my drawers, and in globs all over the floor, and I hid a lot under the bed. But I’ve got more, he thought. I’ve got so so so much more love to show you, Spock.
Spock gripped Jim’s upper arms, his fingers digging in painfully, as Jim’s tongue tasted just the slightest hint of Spock’s beard stubble. Spock moaned against the corner of his mouth, holding him tighter. He mouthed along Jim’s jaw and fell back against a tree that rained white blossoms on them along with the downpour.
They all but mauled each other, desperate to touch. Spock’s lips on Jim’s cheek just under his eye, pressing his temple as Jim’s hands slipped under Spock’s shirt. He put his hands on Spock’s skin and, half-hard, he grinded against his thigh. Between them, a thousand filthy images flooded their shared minds.
I would have let you in here a long time ago, Jim thought at him, haplessly ecstatic. I thought I had to hide all this!
I’m sorry, Jim, Spock thought back as he kissed Jim’s mouth again. I have had this love for you so long, but I drastically misinterpreted my data.
Spock leaned back and fixed a panting Jim with a gaze of such intensity that Jim’s knees buckled. He kissed Jim once more, and it seemed like stars were birthed and ended between them. They were both drenched by the rain, yet they were on fire and were they floating? No, no, but it sure felt like it and some golden spark of something was growing in both of their minds, connected by a strengthening tether. Jim felt Spock recognize it, a burst of surprise and joy overflowing whatever cognitive blocks he’d managed to keep up as they embraced.
Jim, I believe we have bonded, Spock said in his mind.
Thank fuck, Jim thought back. ‘Cause I’m sure as hell not letting you go.
“Excuse me.”
A voice that even Jim immediately recognized as Ambassador Sarek spoke behind them, and they both froze. Jim broke away, their lips smacking wetly, and looked up at Spock with wide eyes.
Oh shit fuck motherfucker.
Indeed.
Reluctantly, they parted. There was Ambassador Sarek regarding them with his typically blank reserve. Sarek, Admiral April, and a very cranky looking Admiral Komack were standing beneath a large umbrella. Though just then the rain abated and overhead, a series of rainbows were streaking across the sky.
Bet we did that, Jim thought.
He reached for Spock’s hand and squeezed it.
“I hate this place,” Komack muttered, folding up the umbrella.
Admiral April shot Jim a look. “Really, Captain Kirk?”
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that!” Jim sputtered, still dazed with love and the buzz of their kiss. “We just bonded!”
Spock winced and said, “I would have preferred informing my father of that at a later date.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jim grimaced. “Sorry, babe.”
Spock eyed his father. “Shall I presume you disapprove of this turn of events? I know you wished me to eventually marry a Vulcan considering the need to rebuild our world and culture.”
Sarek was silent for a moment and then said, “This vulgar public display of affection is unfortunate. However, an organically formed bond is not for me to judge. Will there be a wedding?”
“Gentlemen, if we may return to the ship?” Admiral April said, gesturing toward a spiral staircase.
Jim and Spock followed them and Jim kept a hold of Spock’s hand as they made their way down. “A wedding!” Jim said. “That would be so cool! I could wear one of those old-fashioned tuxedos with the tail things. Would we have it on New Vulcan?”
“I imagine so,” Sarek said over his shoulder. “Perhaps dual ceremonies if you wish to mark the occasion on the Enterprise.”
“Jim, we formed a romantic coupling only minutes ago,” Spock said quietly. “You are already planning a wedding with my father?”
“What, you got cold feet?” Jim said, nudging him. “Shut up and look pretty. I got this. We’ll have a DJ! They can play Ill Communication, Stankonia, Demon Days... But we’ll mix it up too, don’t worry. Maybe even some Cher! Also, open bar. That’s very important.”
“Our remaining elders will expect invitations,” Sarek said as they all clomped down the stairs. “And what precisely is a…Stankonia?”
“You better invite me,” Admiral April said. “Everyone’s gonna wanna hear about this.”
“I don’t want to go,” Komack said.
“You have no sense of romance.” April smacked his shoulder.
“Yo, Ambassador,” Jim said. “What do Vulcans drink?”
“Vulcans do not drink,” Sarek said.
“Tequila. Got it.”
“Jim…” Spock raised an eyebrow at him as they crossed the ground level rose garden. “You are being absurd.”
“I am negotiating, hot lips!” Jim shot a finger gun with the hand that was not holding Spock’s. He blew smoke from the barrel. “That’s how us Iowa cowboys do it.”