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Spock stared at the freshly replicated eyeshadow pallet on his bathroom counter. It was illogical to be so hesitant over what was once routine. And yet he struggled to bring himself to pick up the brush.
Makeup reminded him of Michael— of sitting on the floor in one of their bedrooms and painting each other's faces with extravagant colors. In their youth they were far from skilled, but the act brought them both joy— it was one of the few times Spock would permit himself that feeling.
Their mother had encouraged the practice, taking time on the weekends to sit with them and show them both the careful way she directed the pigments and brushes. And even during their estrangement he thought of her when he applied his makeup. It had saddened him then; it devastated him now.
His hesitation was beginning to cause a problem, not only to his shields, but to his plans as well. At this rate he was sure the arrive late to Captain Pike's holiday party.
The door chimed. Spock let out a frustrated sigh, setting the brush back on the counter before going to answer.
Nyota Uhura stood on the other side of the door. She was not in uniform, which was to be expected. Most of the crew preferred 'civvies' (as they were so often referred to by his human crewmates) for captain's tables. She wore makeup. This was also unsurprising, Spock had never seen the ensign without makeup.
She was quite skilled in the art, her eyes glittering with a festive red eyeshadow and lips painted with a shining brown gloss. Spock envied her, to be able to decorate her face in the way she wished without drawing up painful memories.
"I came to check on you, usually you're the first one at these things but…" She trailed off.
"I…was attempting to do my makeup."
Her eyes lit up. "I didn't know you wore makeup."
"I have not done so since our mission began."
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Have you worn makeup before?"
"I used to do so regularly."
"Want some company while you do it?"
Spock hesitated. "I am not sure I am still going to do it."
"Why not? It's fun! You totally should!"
He sighed, looking into the hallway behind Nyota. He wasn't a fan of random ensigns knowing his business under any circumstances but this especially he wished to keep private. "Would you like to come in?"
She regarded him suspiciously but stepped into his quarters.
How much could he even tell her? Michael had been erased from his Starfleet records, but the information was still easily accessible via Vulcan records. Surely, he could speak of her if he simply omitted the fact that she was very much alive.
"My reasoning is completely illogical."
"I'm not gonna tell, Spock. I can keep a secret believe it or not."
"It is not that I do not trust you, it is simply…embarrassing."
"I'm not forcing you to tell me either. I won't tell if you do— but no pressure."
"That is— appreciated."
She waited quietly for Spock to speak again.
"I believe it is in my records that I have a sister."
Nyota gave a surprised look. "I have no idea, I don't have that kind of access."
"Her name is— was Michael. She served aboard the Discovery."
She nodded in understanding, everyone thought they knew the fate of the Discovery. It saved him from having to lie. "You used to do your makeup together, and it reminds you too much of her." Nyota guessed.
Spock nodded.
"Grief is illogical like that. I couldn't bring myself to eat mashed potatoes until a month ago because that was my brother's favorite food."
"You are human."
She gave a sad smile, but didn't argue. "Do you want me to do it for you?"
Spock considered.
"We can talk while I do it—help keep your mind off things? Or you can tell me about her, up to you."
"I believe that would be beneficial."
"What've you got?"
Spock retrieved the eyeshadow palette from the bathroom counter. "I planned to start with my eyes and then perhaps, replicate more if I wanted it. I wanted to start with what had once made me feel most like myself." He cringed inwardly. Vulcans did not value vanity. It was illogical to tie one's sense of self to something so vain.
Then again, it was not as if makeup was an entirely un-Vulcan practice— T'Pring had worn makeup. Spock had known many Vulcan men who did the same. They seemed to have found the logic in it— maybe it only felt illogical to him because he tied the act to his human mother and sister.
"I always start with eyeshadow too," Nyota commented, pulling him from his thoughts, "Easier to clean up any fallout that way. And you can take makeup remover to the edges and clean up your lines without messing up your face."
"It is the most efficient method." Spock agreed.
"I like the blue, matches your uniform."
"That was the intention."
She grabbed his elbow, dragging him to the far wall of his quarters. "Sit." She said, moving to sit on the floor next to his bed and patting the floor across from her.
He complied.
She studied the colors in the pallet, looking between it and his face in contemplation.
After a moment she picked up one of the flat brushes and dipped it into a light, matte blue.
"Who taught you to do makeup?"
"My mother."
"Mine taught me too."
"It seems she did well, you are quite talented."
"Thank you," She wiggled her shoulders in a smug almost dance and laughed at herself. She was rose to her knees and held the brush at ready, "Close your eyes."
Spock complied leaning towards her to give a better angle.
Her hand rested on her chin to keep steady as she began. Spock couldn't help but note the lack of hesitation in her touch. Not many humans were willing to touch his skin.
She knew full well what he could sense from her and she didn't seem to care, her mind radiating contentment. He hadn't realized it was a worry he'd held when he agreed to this until he was flooded with a sense of relief.
"Do you want to talk about her?"
"Perhaps another time."
Nyota hummed an acknowledgment. "Have you been to Pike's holiday parties before?"
"I have attended every year that I have served under him."
"It should be fun, I didn't get tricked into wearing my dress uniform this time so that puts it above last captain's table."
"I had the same prank pulled on me at my first captain's table. I admit I do not find the amusement in laughing at another's confusion but no one seems to take offense."
"It's harmless. And it happens to everyone, just a hazing thing— pretty standard human behavior."
Having finished with the light shade she switched brushes, using a more pointed and fluffy brush to apply product to the crease of his eyes. He kept his eyes closed, allowing her to work uninterrupted.
"I'm just going to apply this last shade with my fingers." She said, more a warning than anything else.
Spock nodded.
She carefully applied the finale shade. "Okay, you can open them."
He did.
She hummed quietly, angling her head to view him from all sides. "Do you have any makeup wipes?"
"I left them in the bathroom."
"I just want to sharpen up the lines a bit, maybe some eyeliner too?"
"You may replicate an eyeliner while I get the makeup wipes."
"Aye aye," She gave a mock salute, "Just eyeliner?"
He thought for a moment, he was enjoying himself, what was the harm in letting her do his whole face? "You may replicate a foundation or a blush as well if you would like."
They both rose to their feet to retrieve their items.
He could not help but catch a glimpse of his reflection as he entered his bathroom. Even with just eyeshadow the makeup had a way of softening the harshness of his features. It wasn't that he minded his angular face, he had never been insecure about that, but he knew how he was perceived by others. Not only did he enjoy his appearance but it left humans less intimidated.
When had that begun to matter to him? He was Vulcan— Humans were often intimidated by Vulcans, that was a fact of life. Maybe Starfleet had changed him more than he thought.
When he exited the bathroom, makeup wipes in hand, Nyota was sitting back on the floor with the cosmetics she replicated scattered around her.
"Took you long enough."
"I was admiring your work." He admitted.
"Like it?"
"I do."
She beamed. "It'll be even better when I finish."
He nodded, moving to take a seat in his previous position and passing the package of makeup wipes to her.
She went back to work, silent and focus as she perfected the sharp angle of his eyeshadow.
She pulled back, finally satisfied and plucked a product from her stash. "I don't know what you go for but I like a felt tip," She explained, holding up the eyeliner she'd chosen, "The pigment of a liquid but easier to apply like a pencil. Do you even wear eyeliner?"
"Yes, though, I have always used a pencil."
She shrugged. "If you don't like it I can start over. No big deal."
He nodded and closed his eyes to allow her to work. She was quick, applying it in just a few clean swipes.
"Open up."
He was greeted by Nyota's smiling face as she sat back on her heels to admire her work. "Jim's gonna lose his mind."
"Commander Kirk will be in attendance?" He asked, tone carefully neutral.
Nyota snorted. "Don't get too eager." She teased.
"I am not—"
"I'll keep your secret." She stage whispered.
Spock pursed his lips.
"You're allowed to like him. He likes you."
"We are friends, of course I like him."
She rolled her eyes. "Look up," She said, brandishing a mascara wand, "Like like him. You're allowed to have romantic feelings for him— or think he's hot. Most people who are into men think he's hot."
He did feel something for Jim. The few times they had interacted seemed to stick in his head in a way no one else did. Was it romantic? Nyota was right, he was attractive— with his kind, hazel eyes and his strong hands. Hands that he had shaken upon their first meeting…what had compelled him to accept the gesture? It was almost obscene, but he had barely questioned it, he had wanted it. "Do you?" He asked Nyota, forcing the thoughts away. It was something he could review during his meditation.
She laughed loudly. "Think he's hot?"
Spock nodded.
Nyota shook her head. "I'm a lesbian; he's not exactly my type— not to say I think he's bad looking…I just don't even know what's supposed to be attractive in guys."
"I apologize—"
"You had no way of knowing." She capped the mascara and took to squirting foundation on the back of her hand.
"That is true. Still, it was wrong of me to make the assumption."
Nyota shrugged, picking up the foundation with a brush and beginning her application. "What about you?" She asked, sounding far too innocent.
"What about me, what?"
"Do you think Jim Kirk is hot?"
Spock felt himself flush before he had time to tamper his reaction. He didn't bother to suppress it now. Nyota was so close—there was no way she did not notice.
She giggled. "You should tell him! He's so into you."
"You have no way of knowing that to be true."
Nyota gave a pointed look. "I'm pretty damn sure."
"How?"
"Well for one, he shook your hand when you met. Which you accepted without hesitation, so if you think you were keeping your interest from me you're sorely mistaken."
He felt his blush deepen. "An error common among humans. You are more educated on foreign cultures than most."
"Spock, he has a Vulcan captain."
He had known that somewhere in his mind and yet it had not seemed relevant to him. "It is not Captain V'Rell's responsibility to educate her crew on Vulcan culture."
"No…but do you really think she would promote an officer to XO if he so blatantly offended her Vulcan sensibilities?"
"It seems unlikely, but not impossible."
The door chimed once again, cutting off whatever reply Nyota had opened her mouth to give.
"I'll get it." She said jumping to her feet.
"Pike sent me." Spock heard La'An's voice say in way of greeting.
"We probably should've commed." Nyota conceded.
La'An tilted her head to look past her and into the room, observing Spock, still sitting on the floor, surrounded by cosmetics. Her normally harsh expression softened with fond amusement. She flipped open her communicator. "La'An to Pike." She began.
"Everything good?" Pike's grainy voice replied.
"Yes, sir. It seems Ensign Uhura and Lieutenant Spock have simply lost track of time."
"Really?"
"Well, at the very least they've gotten distracted."
"Okay. Glad everyone's alright. See you soon. Pike out."
La'An snapped her communicator closed. "May I come in?" She asked.
Nyota looked back to Spock.
He rose to his feet, crossing to the door. "I assumed you'd want to head back to the festivities."
"The captain will just drag me into cooking and, trust me, no one wants me near the kitchen."
This earned a small laugh from Nyota.
"You may join."
She smiled and followed them back to the far side of his quarters.
"Someone you're trying to impress?" La'An asked, sitting on the edge of his bed to observe the pair.
"That had not been my intention…in the beginning."
She smiled. "You look nice. Though, I don't think you need to try at all to impress James."
"I did not say who I wanted to impress."
La'An narrowed her eyes. "You don't have to— I'm a keen observer, wouldn't be chief of security if I wasn't."
Spock didn't say anything.
"I'm not judging. He's sweet and he's funny and he's handsome, anyone on the crew would be falling over themselves to earn his attention."
This time Spock was able to repress his blush.
"What about you?" La'An asked, nudging Nyota with a foot.
"Hm?"
"Who are you looking to impress."
"No one." She answered, far too quickly.
La'An smirked. "Right…certainly not Chris Chapel."
Nyota blushed.
"You like Nurse Chapel?"
"We're not talking about me."
"We can talk about you both." La'An replied.
"Maybe, just a little…but she's dating that asshole so it doesn't matter."
"It won't last."
"I hope you are correct Lieutenant, I do not know I can tolerate another story about Roger Korby."
La'An let out a sudden loud laugh. "You know it's bad if even Mr. Spock's sick of the guy."
"I also hope it for your sake, Ensign."
Nyota ducked her head sheepishly. "I'll get over her."
"The two of you would make a good pair."
"So would you and Jim."
It was an impasse, neither of them willing to open up further about their romantic feelings and knowing any sentiment would be turned on themselves.
"Green or Pink for blush? I replicated both."
'Human blush' was a trend on Vulcan, as illogical as it was Vulcans seemed to find something attractive about the exotic, alien-ness of pink cheeks. Spock had never dared try it.
"The pink I have isn't exactly natural for humans either." Nyota attempted.
"I am not offended, just considering," He assured.
"I'd go pink if I were you." La'An pipped in.
Spock nodded. "If I do not like it. We can take it off."
"Absolutely."
"Pink."
She smiled, picked up the correct compact, and dusted the powder across his cheeks.
"Thoughts?" Nyota asked, turning to La'An.
La'An regarded him with an intense focus. "Maybe some lipstick?"
Nyota looked to Spock, wordlessly requesting permission. Spock granted it with a nod.
"What color do you normally go for?"
"A pink for every day. Though, perhaps it would be too much with the blush."
She nodded, thinking. "What about a dark red?" She asked after a moment, "It'll dress the look up a bit."
"I trust your judgment."
"La'An?"
"I like it."
Nyota rose crossing to the replicator and punching in the code. "God, I can't wait until I rank high enough to have my own replicator." She said as she retrieved the tube of lipstick from within.
"You know the head nurse's quarters have a replicator." La'An teased.
"If we weren't in Spock's quarters I'd throw something at you." She retorted, causing La'An to throw her head back in laughter.
She made her way back to Spock and reassumed her kneeling position. She popped the top off the lipstick and rolled it up to show off the color to him and La'An. It was a dark red, leaning almost brownish-purple.
"That's perfect." La'An said encouragingly.
"It is a pleasing shade."
That seemed to be all the confirmation she needed. She took his jaw in her hand to angle his face towards her and gingerly applied the product to his lips, then took a few steps back on her knees and tilted her head as she observed him from a distance. "Okay, what do you think?"
Spock rose to his feet and took the few steps to look in the mirror. It was a version of his face he had not seen in many months. He suddenly felt more put together than he had since the mission commenced. It was vain and illogical but looking at Uhura's handiwork he felt as if he could hold his head up higher.
The pink blush she had chosen, while unnatural did not look out of place on his face. In a way, it made him look like his mother. He liked being able to see her face in his.
"I like it." He said eventually, realizing he had been staring at himself for too long.
"I'm glad." Nyota said, the smile clear in her voice.
"You look good," La'An added, "but we should get going, before Pike comms again thinking we're getting you into trouble."
He turned back to the two women. "I am arriving much later than normal. It is understandable he would assume something is wrong."
"It is. So let's go save him from his heart attack."
"I do not think—"
"Joke, Spock." La'An added gently.
"Ah."
"Oh! You should bring your lute!" Nyota suggested, "Maybe after dinner we can perform some songs together, bring a bit of extra holiday cheer."
"I would not want to impose on the captain's plans."
"We wouldn't."
"You do not know that."
"I'm on Nyota's side."
"Don't bring it if you don't want to. But I like singing with you, I know you have fun too— or the Vulcan version of fun. Wouldn't it be nice to let loose?"
Spock raised an eyebrow causing Nyota to pout dramatically. If he were more human it may have made him smile. "Performing with you would be an enjoyable addition to the evening if Captain Pike allows it. However, I do not know any music that would fit the occasion."
Nyota clapped her hands. "We can stop by my quarters on the way, I have sheet music."
Pike greeted them with a warm smile when they arrived. "There you all are! Took you long enough." His tone was light despite the harsh words.
"I apologize for our lateness."
Pike snorted. "It's only late for you, Spock. Don't worry about it. Food's just about done if you want to help set the table."
Spock nodded and grabbed a stack of plates from the island. He made his way to the table where Jim and Sam Kirk were laying out place mats and cutlery.
A nervous flutter erupted in Spock's stomach at the sight of the commander. He wore a dark green flannel unbuttoned just enough to give a glimpse of his golden chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. When had forearm ever been attractive? It was beyond illogical to find the sight so enticing.
Jim looked up from his task and met Spock's eyes.
"You're wearing makeup…" He observed.
Spock swore he could almost see the other man's jaw hang open minutely. He gulped, attempting to swallow down his nervousness. "I am."
"I don't think I've seen you wear makeup before."
"You have not."
Jim opened his mouth to speak before quickly shutting it again.
"You look nice, Spock." Una cut in.
"Yes. Yeah— you look…I like it." He cringed and turned his attention back to the table dressings.
"Nice job." Sam said, patting Jim on the shoulder as he walked past.
Jim swatted at him with a place mat making Sam laugh.
"Thank you."
Nyota bumped his shoulder. He hadn't noticed her approach. "Told you so." She whispered.
Maybe it was too hopeful, but Spock was starting to believe that she just may have been correct.
Table set, the group slowly made their way to their seats— allowing Una and Pike to bring the food Spock knew the captain had spent his entire day off preparing.
Nyota's continued plot to get him close to Commander Kirk inching closer to blatant as she ever so casually set herself up a chair away from Spock and begged Jim to take the seat next to her.
Sitting so close to him was far more distracting than Spock could have anticipated. He felt his heart rate elevate beyond his control and could barely contain the urge to ogle the other man whenever his head was turned. And he couldn't stop the hopeful corner of his brain that said: Maybe Jim is looking too— unable to shake off the illogical feeling of eyes on him in the brief moments his own attention was diverted.Spock found himself enjoying the party far more than he did on nights where Kirk was not present, a feeling he did not feel equipped to examine.
Nyota had been right about Captain Pike welcoming their performance. It had been a satisfying challenge to sight read the music from various Federation cultures versions of 'winter' holidays.
Nyota's favorite had been a Terran ballad called White Christmas, which apparently featured in a film of the same title. She had been astonished to learn that neither himself nor Jim had ever seen it and insisted that despite the fact neither of them celebrated Christmas they needed to watch it with her.
Eventually the night drew to a close, most of the humans in attendance in various stages of drunkenness from the wine and the eggnog Una had not so secretly spiked. It almost saddened Spock to let the night end, which did not escape Nyota's observation.
"You should walk Jim to his quarters." She suggested with a wink.
"Good idea!" Sam added, laughing at whatever look he earned from his younger brother.
Spock's first instinct was to reject the suggestion on principle. It was illogical. Jim knew where his quarters were— he could find his way back just fine. And he was no where near inebriated enough to need assistance.
But he wanted to say yes.
However brief and even if it was not in a romantic manner, he wanted time alone with Jim Kirk. "If the commander would allow it." He acquiesced.
"Uh— sure." Jim answered, sounding almost startled.
The rest of the room was staring at them in a way that made Spock's skin crawl— their expressions proof that they could all see straight through his carefully neutral tone. "I shall see you all tomorrow." He said quickly, starting towards the door before they could respond.
Jim said his goodbyes and then they were in the ship's corridors.
Utterly alone.
"After you" Spock said, tucking his hands neatly behind his back and inclining his head towards the turbolift.
Jim nodded and began to walk.
For the first time in his life, Spock almost understood the human inclination for small talk. "I never had a chance to congratulate you on your promotion. Youngest first officer in Starfleet history is an exceptional accomplishment." It was a slightly more productive comment than typical 'small talk'.
Jim shrugged. "It's what was expected of me— not that I don't want it. Or that I'm not proud of my accomplishments. I've worked hard, it's a weight off my shoulders to have it work out— a dream come true. But you know…"
"I do not know."
"It's a lot of pressure, having to live up to George and Winona Kirk."
"Ah— I understand."
"Yeah, conceptually. But it's hard to explain what it's like to have everyone know your parents and expect you to be just like them."
Spock almost smiled at that.
"What?"
"It is of no consequence."
Jim gave a small laugh. "Yeah, whatever. I know you're judging me for my silly human emotions."
"Perhaps."
Jim went silent, smile beginning to shrink.
Had he not realized Spock was teasing? Did he sound too blunt? Spock had years of observation of human banter under his belt but perhaps he did not understand it as well as he had thought.
The trubolift doors wooshed open and the two shuffled inside.
"Sorry about Nyota she…" Jim began after a moment.
Or perhaps he did understand, and Spock had been the one to misread signals. "She means well."
He laughed. "I know she does, it's just embarrassing. She's way too perceptive, she just sees right through people sometimes."
"She does. It can be…alarming to realize something you have attempted to keep guarded can be so easily gleaned by others."
"Yeah. That."
The brief silence that fell between them as the turbolift arrived at Jim's deck carried an energy Spock could not name.
"This is awkward…." Jim said eventually.
"I apologize, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I admit my reasoning for agreeing to this was selfish. I did not want to deal with the reactions of my crewmates if I stayed and—"
"—God, I really didn't mean to make things weird for you."
"You have done nothing wrong," He assured, "Would a change of subject be easier?"
"Please." Jim sighed heavily, as if he had just been holding his breath.
"I have been told you are skilled at chess, perhaps we could play a game some time."
He gave an awkward laugh. "This doesn't make you not want to hang out with me?"
It was a puzzling question. "Of course not."
"Is that because you…" He trailed off as if too anxious to utter the next words.
"I am afraid I do not know what you are implying, Commander."
Jim gave a tight smile and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I enjoy spending time with you and I'm glad this at least doesn't make you so uncomfortable that comes to an end."
"I could say the same to you."
They reached Jim's quarters at that moment, giving Spock no time to push for clarification.
Jim lingered, hand floating inches from the controls that would open his quarter's doors.
What was he lingering for? Was their conversation not a rejection? Did he have a chance?
"You um— you do look really nice tonight. I just wanted to tell you that."
Spock felt his heart pounding against his side and his breath catch in his throat. "You as well."
He smiled softly, looking almost relieved. The sight filled Spock with an unexplainable warmth, like his smile gave off a comforting glow of it's own. His hand finally resumed its movement, entering the code and making the doors woosh open. "Good night, Mr. Spock." He said.
Spock wanted so badly to lean in and kiss him. To follow him into his quarters and spend the night wrapped in those strong arms— but that was not for tonight. There were too many unanswered questions. Instead he simply said, "Good night, Commander Kirk."