Work Text:
Jim was fine, obviously. He recovered quickly and well. The doctors on the Enterprise were too good to be bested by a simple bullet wound. He was discharged in less than a week.
Spock wasn’t surprised to see Jim on the bridge when he stepped out of the turbolift. Jim was sitting on the captain’s chair, legs crossed, head on his fist, but he looked up when Spock walked in, beaming.
“Spock!” he chirped. His eyes were bright blue.
“Captain.” Spock nodded tightly and strode to his station. He locked his eyes on the sensors and tried to ignore how he could feel Jim’s eyes on his back.
Spock’s eyes were back to gray. But Jim had seen Spock’s eyes without contacts. And now he knew Spock had colors.
There was no hiding it now.
-----
After their shift, Jim squeezed into the turbolift with Spock right as the doors were closing, cornering him.
“Hey Spock.”
“Hello, Captain.”
“We’re off duty. Call me Jim.”
“Deck five,” called Spock, not acknowledging Jim’s request. The lift began to move.
“Spock,” said Jim, but Spock stared at the wall.
Silence.
“Wanna play chess tonight?”
Spock froze. He didn’t expect Jim to ask that. “I--no,” he said. “I do not.” If he spent more time with Jim, he might slip up again and ruin everything. And Spock was great at ruining things.
“Please?” Spock looked over at Jim, and his eyes were wide and blue and there were swirls of red and Spock didn’t know what it meant. But he made eye contact, and seeing Jim’s eyes was all it took for him to give in to his selfish desire to be with him more.
“Is 1500 at my quarters agreeable?”
Jim grinned widely, red disappearing. Spock ignored the feelings that Jim’s smile made him feel.
-----
The game was surprisingly normal. Conversation flowed as usual, and Spock almost relaxed.
“Lieutenant Tomlinson and Ensign Martine are getting married next week,” Jim said. “They’ve asked me to be the officiant. I said yes, of course. It’s a wonderful, joyous event.”
Spock inclined his head. “Indeed. An important moment in their lives.”
“I’ll tell them you’re happy for them,” Jim joked.
“I am not ‘happy’ for anyone, or at all,” Spock said. “But you may tell them I sent congratulations.”
“Alright, Spock,” said Jim, smiling.
Silence fell. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that he and Jim shared quite often, the kind that made Spock’s chest feel, illogically, like it was about to burst.
“I saw your eyes, when I got shot,” said Jim softly, and suddenly Spock couldn’t breathe.
“Indeed,” he said, lungs too tight to say anything else. Fuck, it was over, it was over, and--
“They’re pretty.”
“Oh,” said Spock dumbly.
Jim looked at him, eyes wide, gold and blue. “What does green mean, Spock?”
“Fear,” he said, barely audible.
“What color are they now?” Jim whispered.
Spock was still.
He reached up and removed his contacts.
“Gold,” breathed Jim. “And blue. What do gold and blue mean?”
Spock stood up, and so did Jim. Spock could see every detail in Jim’s irises. They swirled with the same colors Spock’s did.
“I think it means I love you.”
And then they were kissing and it was glorious and illogical and Spock didn’t care because this was all he’d ever wanted and Jim was his soulmate.
And everything was okay.