Chapter Text
Spock was a scientist. And as a scientist, he was constantly observing and cataloguing all phenomena around him. Usually, it was quite easy for him to analyse and categorise the data he took in, but lately, he had come across a series of phenomena that did not fit in with anything he had previously observed.
Specifically, it pertained to Jim Kirk.
Spock had spent so much time with his Captain that he had come to know almost exactly what was going through the man’s head simply by looking at him. In fact, he had seen Kirk exhibit these same behaviours before — multiple times — but only in a very specific context.
The long, drawn-out eye contact, the subtle smiles, the lingering touches.
Spock had seen all of these behaviours before, when the Captain was romantically interested in a beautiful woman. He had seen it with Lenore, Kodos’ daughter. He had seen it with Rayna, the android. And of course, he had seen it with Edith Keeler. But he had never seen it directed at a man. And especially not toward himself of all people.
Lately, Jim had been acting rather strangely toward Spock. He had not been as overt as he had with these women, but Spock could not deny what he was seeing.
Jim had been approaching his station more frequently on the bridge, placing his hand on the back of Spock’s chair, fingers accidentally brushing against his back. It had made Spock stiffen. Not in an unpleasant way, but in a way that was very unfamiliar.
Jim had been fixing him with that same soft smile over their chess games, his moves growing more and more irrational the more he focused on Spock. Sometimes, when Spock raised his brow, questioning a move, Jim’s smile would grow even wider, his eyes practically sparkling with something unsaid. His fingers would touch Spock’s at every opportunity, almost like he was doing it all subconsciously. It made the Vulcan’s heart stutter in his ribcage, and he was not sure why.
“Mr Spock,” Jim said, his voice surprisingly low. “Your game seems a little off today,”
The Captain’s musing tone caught Spock a little off guard. He looked up, opening his mouth to speak, only to see those hazel eyes fixated on his lips. Suddenly his mouth went dry. This was illogical. It did not make any sense for his body to respond in such a way.
“Captain…” he went to reply. His voice came out far too quiet and raspy for his own liking. Jim’s eyes widened. Spock coughed lightly, clearing his throat. “I find myself distracted by your illogical gameplay.”
“Come on, Spock,” Jim grinned, leaning in closer, “when do I ever play logically?”
Spock hummed in consideration, making his move. He found he could not bring himself to hold the Captain’s eyes. His gaze was far too intense.
So, the game went on.
And Jim won.
Spock continued to monitor his Captain’s behaviour over the next few days, mentally filing away every odd interaction.
By the end of the week, he had a whole collection of data to analyse. Sitting in his quarters, he sifted through it all, noting the trends that in the past seven days Jim had:
- unnecessarily touched his arm or back or hand 7 times
- smiled at him 34 times
- sat within close proximity to him 16 times
There were more, but perhaps the most disconcerting was the fact that he had caught Jim looking at his lips a solid 47 times over the week. When he spoke, Jim’s eyes were on his lips, watching them move. When Spock could not hold back a quirk of a smile during chess, or on the bridge, Jim was watching him, his face morphing into a sweet smile. It made Spock’s stomach twist in a way that was far from logical.
That was why he found himself standing outside sickbay, considering whether he really wanted to have this conversation with the good doctor. However, seeing as though the doctor was an expert in human emotions, he saw no alternative — unless he directly confronted Jim, which he did not want to do.
The chime rang and he walked in, finding the doctor sitting at his desk, looking over a report on a PADD.
“Doctor McCoy,” Spock said, approaching the man.
“Well if it isn’t our resident pain in the ass,” McCoy smiled. “What can I do ya for, Spock?”
“I have a question.”
McCoy raised his eyebrows. “You have a question? For me?”
Spock nodded once, taking a seat opposite the doctor, steepling his fingers as he thought about how to phrase it.
“Go on then, I don’t have all night.”
“I have observed some unusual behaviour from the Captain,” Spock began.
“Like what?”
“He has… He has spent an excessive proportion of time fixated upon… my face.”
“Your face?” McCoy echoed, his face slack with disbelief. He could not believe what he was hearing.
“Yes. My mouth in particular,” Spock said. They sat together in silence for a moment. “Doctor, I would like to know if there is something abnormal about my face.”
McCoy had to clamp his lips shut as he tried to hold back a laugh. The Vulcan was being entirely serious. He never joked.
Deciding to have some fun with this, the doctor stood and came around to Spock, pretending to examine his face. He pushed his head to the side to get a good look at his cheek, then he pinched his ear, humming as though he had seen something. Coming back around to his seat, he sat down, careful to maintain a grave expression.
“I’m afraid you’re ears are turning green, Mr Spock,” he said.
Spock blinked. He was not amused.
“If you will not be of assistance, I shall consult other sources.” Spock moved to get up, but McCoy quickly held his arm to keep him in place.
“Now wait a minute, I was just messing with you!” he said crossly. He muttered under his breath, “Bloody Vulcans, can’t even take a joke.”
Spock opened his mouth to shoot back a scathingly logical reply, but the doctor kept talking.
“Are you seriously telling me you have no idea why Jim is acting like this?”
“Yes doctor, that is exactly the point I am making. If I was aware of the cause of the Captain’s behaviour, I would have no need to ask for your opinion.”
McCoy rolled his eyes, leaning back to lounge in his chair.
“Then let me ask you: have you ever seen Jim behave like this before?”
Spock paused, thinking.
“When?” McCoy pushed.
“The Captain has exhibited similar behaviours when attracted to someone.”
The doctor looked expectantly at Spock, waiting for the coin to drop. However this seemed to be taking much longer than expected.
“For a genius, you can be pretty dumb sometimes,” he said.
“I do not understand.”
“Of course you don’t.” McCoy tried to think of another way to guide Spock to the conclusion. “What else have you noticed.”
“He has been increasingly present in my personal space.”
“And?”
“He has found reasons to come into close contact with me.”
“So?”
“These are all behaviours Jim has previously directed towards women he has tried to pursue romantically.”
“And what conclusion does that lead you to? Logically, of course,” McCoy didn’t even try to hide his sarcasm.
“That leads to two possible conclusions — the first being that the Captain is romantically interested in me, and the second and more likely conclusion — that the Captain is unwell.”
“Goddammit Spock!” The doctor practically slammed his fist onto the table. “Jim loves you! He’s been in love with you for God knows how long!”
Spock’s insides clenched with the shock of the blow. On the outside, however, he merely raised his brows, lips parting in an uncouth display of surprise.
“… Love?” he echoed quietly.
“Yes, you idiot! Love — heart racing, butterflies in your stomach, type of love.”
Now Spock quirked his brow in confusion.
“Do you suspect that the Captain’s affliction is the result of a parasitic infection of an insect species in his stomach?”
McCoy practically slapped his face as he went to facepalm.
“There are no insects in Jim’s stomach,” he explained like he would to a delinquent child. “It’s an expression.”
“Ah yes, an archaic human expression designed to show someone is nervous or excited.”
The doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, exactly.”
There was silence for some time while Spock processed all of this.
“You believe that Captain Kirk has… feelings for me?”
“Yes!” said the exasperated human. “He told me himself!”
Spock paused. McCoy sighed.
“I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but that was two years ago, and the way you two are so damn oblivious kills me!”
The Vulcan was stunned into silence.
Two years. 730 days.
And he hadn’t noticed?
“Thank you doctor, I must go.”
Without waiting for McCoy’s response, Spock left.