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1.
Spock. It was a reality Kirk had to face that amongst his notes about warp speed and jet fuel and light years Spock’s name was always written so neatly, so perfectly, like Kirk had erased and redrawn the curves of the S more times than he’d probably ever admit. And he had no idea why he did any of that. Why Spock was on his mind at all as he left his training session and walked down the bright hallway with his notebook in his hand.
Suddenly, he wanted to review his notes about Vulcans on the spot and see if they could read minds from afar, because how was Spock at the other end of the hallway, walking straight in his direction?
Okay, it wasn’t some kind of crazy coincidence. They were both training to be on the same godforesaken ship. It wasn’t like Kirk had summoned him or anything. There were tons of students in the hallways, and at least three other ones Kirk didn’t bother to recognize at that moment. All he saw was Spock. Spock and his jet-black, perfectly straight and freaking soft-looking hair. Spock and his pointy ears and thoughtful yet slightly adorable crinkle in his right eyebrow because he was always thinking way too hard about science.
Kirk wanted Spock to notice him. And the only way to do that was, obviously, to use that Vulcan hand-gesture he’d seen Spock greet literally everyone with. It was simple. He just had to hold his hand up like he was going to wave, but not move it at all. Then separate his fingers at the center, two fingers on each side. That was easy. So easy, in fact, that he didn’t even look at his hand when he did it. Not until he felt a pain in between his fingers and a sting of embarrassment when he realized he was just spreading each finger ridiculously, like he was trying to reach for something or grab a very wide handle.
He continued trying, even though Spock was almost past him and he was embarrassing himself in front of so many people he’d likely be working with in the next few weeks. He didn’t give up until him and Spock had passed each other. Then he gripped his notebook again and glanced over his shoulder quickly, before Spock got too far away for Kirk to see his face anymore.
He was shocked. Spock was laughing. Or, at least, grinning and hiding it behind his fist and masking it as a cough as his nose, cheeks and tips of his ears turned slightly green.
He’d made Spock laugh.
He’d made Spock laugh.
He didn’t know why, but he wanted to do it again. And again. And again.
2.
It was his third birthday as Captain. His third birthday receiving drinks from Scotty and Bones and even Chekov- whom he wasn’t sure was even old enough to drink. But nonetheless, it was now night and he’d already had enough scotch and Klingon wine and vodka to last him until next year. And he was content. He was happy on the observation desk, comfortably alone and staring at the stars. They were the greatest gift of all, after all. He hadn’t wished upon a star as a seven-year-old boy in rural Iowa; he’d wished for a star.
And now he had thousands right there in his reach. What more could he ask for?
Somebody cleared his throat behind Kirk. He knew immediately, and didn’t turn his head lest the visitor see his uncontrollable grin. Oh, right. He could ask for one more thing.
“Yes, Mister Spock?”
“Would it be…permissible if I joined you on the observation deck?” Kirk couldn’t help but glance back at Spock. The curious raised eyebrows and stiff stance were expected, but the slice of chocolate cake with a candle sinking into the frosting and a flame dancing over it was quite unexpected. Uhura had given him a cookie last year, but someone raised on Vulcan- where they didn’t seem to celebrate much of anything- was the last person Kirk expected to gift him any sort of birthday pleasantries.
“That depends, are you planning on sharing that cake or do I have to watch you eat the whole slice in front of me?” Kirk turned his grin into a smirk as he turned away from the stars to look at the star ten feet in front of him.
Spock’s eyes flicked away for a second, then back to Kirk. “Captain, if my research proves correct, the human tradition suggests that the first and typically largest parcel of cake is to be consumed by the person whose birthday it is. Following that logic, since I did not replicate an entire cake, I would assume that the only slice present would be reserved for-”
Kirk cut off his rambling, not because he didn’t love listening to Spock talk logical nonsense, but because the sweet smell of chocolate was making his stomach start to grumble at him. “Thank you,” he said as he reached a hand out. Spock gladly handed him the cake, which was neatly placed in the middle of a glass plate. He was halfway done with it when he noticed Spock’s still-stiff posture and frequent sideways-glances at him. “Was there anything else, Spock?”
“I was planning to wait until you finished consuming the cake, but because you asked,” Spock moved his other hand away from where it had been resting behind his back and revealed what he’d been holding: a three-inch by four-inch box wrapped neatly in a black ribbon, devoid of a bow but shimmering lightly like the stars. “It was not clear from my research whether the ritual of gift-giving was to occur before or after the consumption of cake, but my logical consensus was to present it to you afterwards, so..”
“So if I don’t like the gift, at least there’s still the lingering sweet taste of frosting?” Kirk joked. Spock was clearly, not amused. “It was just a joke,” he explained. “Come on. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Spock handed him the box with a tiny nod. Kirk was careful not to break the ribbon as he slipped it off the top, then the side of the box and let it rest over his sleeve while he took the lid off and tucked it beneath the now-open box. His fingers brushed over the front cover of a small but thick book. There were two words inscribed on it, one in a foreign language and one just beneath it in English: Peace. Kirk flipped the book open to find a little note folded up before the first page. He opened it.
I took note of your passion for human authors of the distant past and your impressive consumption of their works. I could not venture to obtain the works of Shakespeare or Plato for you, because I assumed you would have already obtained such works, and if any undiscovered works exist, it would not be my place to discover them. Instead, I figured out the best way to introduce you to the great literary works of my world. Thus, I have translated Surak’s greatest work- his lectures on Peace- into English for your leisurely pleasure, and perhaps, one day when you are more familiarized, for the casual post-shift discussion. I have heard that a suitable birthday gift brings the recipient joy. I hope this is satisfactory.
Your friend,
Spock
Kirk smiled, his eyes finding Spock’s in the dark. He didn’t know why the letter had made him so…emotional, and certainly Spock would not find that logical at all, so he didn’t say anything about that. “This was very sw- …thoughtful, Spock.” Oh stars. Had he almost said sweet? “Thank you.”
Spock nodded. “It is my hope that your birthday has been joyful, Captain.”
Now it is.
3.
In his defense, he had lost track of time. He hadn't expected Spock to be half asleep when he answered the door to his quarters. It was at that moment that he realized Spock had probably only responded to his incessant banging on the door and shouts about literature because he'd mentioned Surak.
Maybe Jim reading the book meant more to Spock than he let on.
“Captain- is there a problem?” Spock's eyes were still half-lidded, as if he had one foot in the land of dreams and the other in the hallway of the Enterprise.
“Absolutely, Mister Spock. The problem is Surak- this man was a genius! I mean, ‘peace is a completely unnatural state for a world to be continuously in- but war is not the true complement of peace: change is.’ Genius, I tell you, pure genius.”
Spock may have been tired, but he was still able to raise his right eyebrow. Kirk took that as an invitation to continue talking. he didn’t know how, but between his babbling about Surak and Spock’s engaged nods of agreement, he ended up in Spock’s quarters with the door closed behind the two of them, sitting next to Spock on a small leather couch. Spock’s quarters were warm. almost uncomfortably so. And Spock’s nightwear looked even warmer- was that two sweaters?
“So in Surak's world, the only foreseeable solution for war and hostility was logic, rather than compassion, because war can be performed compassionately but not logically.” Kirk had taken his shoes off, at the Vulcan's request, and was now curled up on the couch with the book in his lap and a replicated chocolate bar in his hand. Spock had been eyeing the food curiously or suspiciously…sometimes, Kirk couldn't tell.
“Indeed, Captain,” Spock nodded. “It is surprising that humans credit anger, rather than love, as the cause of war. Anger may cause one to perform hostility, but something as sacrificial as war requires a fundamentally strong admiration and protection towards one's own clan.”
“Good thing humans love just as much as we fight,” Kirk chuckled lightly to himself. His mind had, inevitably, gone back to all the times he felt his cheeks heat up or his heart race whenever he saw Spock do…anything, really. Now, he finally knew what those butterflies meant.
“Captain,” it might’ve just been Kirk's imagination, but it seemed like Spock was a tiny bit closer to him than he had been moments before. “Do you believe that the benefits of emotion outweigh the destructive inevitabilities of it?”
“Spock you know me well enough to know that I don't think anything is unpreventable.” Kirk took a bite of the chocolate. He missed the homemade chocolate fudge bars back in Iowa. “But since you asked, yes. Yes I think I do. But only because the destructive inevitabilities of suppressing emotions outweigh the dangers of experiencing said emotions.” He was one to talk. Suppressing everything he felt for Spock. Maybe he finally understood the half-Vulcan on some level.
Spock was silent after that. He didn't argue, and if he ever agreed to do a mind-meld, Kirk would probably have proof of his theory: that he was being quiet because he knew it was true. But they wouldn't find out that night. It was far too late and yet far too early at the same time. Too early in their friendship to discuss things that seemed so untouchable to them.
So Kirk stood up. He walked away. He patted Spock on the shoulder before leaving, muttering an unreciprocated ‘good night, buddy.’ Even though he'd never see Spock as just a buddy again.
4.
The planet was called Styx-7. It was also inhospitable, Spock deemed after spending five minutes on its surface with Kirk. It was inhospitable due to the extreme temperatures which could lead to hypothermia within less than twenty-four hours, he'd said. And since Scotty had just told them that the entire ship's power was out, they couldn't beam back up, and the two of them were about to test just how inhospitable Styx-7 really was.
“There were people here,” Kirk proclaimed after walking the approximate equivalent of one city block and stumbling upon a caving-in dark wood cabin. It appeared to have a door, but the door had been ripped from its hinges and buried beneath an inch or two of ice. He stepped into the doorway and surveyed the inside of the cabin. Snow in the middle of the floor, in between two beds with torn, nearly-turning-into-dust sheets. Unsurprisingy, honeslty. “It looks to me like whatever happened to them happened out there. Spock, what do you say we hunker down until Scotty saves us?”
Spock seemed a lot more on-edge than usual. Kirk never thought he was grumpy, per se, more likely just quiet and serious. Now, however, he looked downright miserable. “It would be an effective method of sheltering from the wind,” he said in a low voice.
“Works for me,” Kirk replied. “I'll take the lead, so if there are any monsters inside I'll fight them off.” For you, he wanted to add. Even though Spock's neck pinch would be much more effective in fighting anything than Kirk's old tricks.
Unfortunately, or probably for the better, there were no monsters inside. Only splintered pieces of wood, two beds, and the eerie howl of the wind outside. Kirk picked up one of the dusty blankets, shook it out and draped it over Spock's shoulders. The Vulcan managed a weak eyebrow raise. “Couldn't let my science officer freeze to death,” Kirk said with a wink.
Spock gave him a curious look, but didn't say anything as he adjusted the blanket to wrap around him tightly. Kirk found the other blanket and, instead of wrapping it around himself, gave it to Spock as well because he knew that Vulcans had a colder overall body temperature. Kirk sat on the bed with the blankets still on it and took out the tiny, very easily portable book from Spock. He'd already read through it once, but he never got tired of the thought-provoking ideas Surak's claims sprouted in him. He was looking for a new tangent to get deep into when he felt a body rest next to him on the bed. Spock. Only inches from him. Probably closer to preserve heat. He had one blanket around his shoulders and the other resting over his legs which were swung over the edge of the bed. Kirk could barely see his hair in the midst of all the ruffles and torn holes in the blankets. “You look like a Vulcan burrito,” he commented. Spock frowned.
“I do not know what a burrito is.”
Hours passed. Kirk's eyelids grew heavy from reading in the low light. He noticed Spock silently leaning over and reading from over Kirk's shoulder every so often before he returned to his rigid sitting position. It took him six times doing this to finally say a word.
“Captain, do you think it would be logical to…initiate contact in order to exchange warmth between the two of us?” Spock's voice became quiet at the end of the sentence. How odd. He was never one to mumble.
Kirk slowly met his eyes, not fully registering what he'd said until a moment later after he'd ripped his attention away from Surak. His heart skipped a beat but he smirked. “Sounds like somebody is cold and doesn't want to say it.”
“Vulcan is a torrid planet,” Spock defended. But his hands were already gripping Kirk's jacket and he was already mere millimeters away from bumping his shoulder into Kirk's. Kirk decided to close that distance. He leaned slightly and put one arm around Spock, trying to play it off as a careless move, but he was sure Spock knew it wasn't.
Spock could've been reading his mind at that very moment, and he would be happy to let him.