Archive of Our Own

Jim walked a fine line as captain of a starship. He needed his crew to like him, to be able to come to him with a problem, to feel he was a good man worthy of following to the literal ends of the universe. He also needed their respect as a superior officer, to be sure they would follow his orders, to know they wouldn't take them personally. It was something like trying to parent 430-something adults. He had to be friendly but not too friendly, stern but not too stern, and distant but there all at once. Never mind that the crew themselves needed time away from duty. It wouldn't encourage relaxation or loyalty if your boss constantly showed up at the only bar in town. So Friday night found Jim as it usually did, sequestered away in Bones' office, glass of brandy in hand, talking to one of his only two equals onboard. 

"So," said Bones, after a lull in conversation, "you gonna go tomorrow?"

Jim looked up. "Go to what?"

Bones' eyebrows went up. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

Jim set his glass down. "No, now you have to tell me."

Bones sighed. "Tomorrow there's an event— which you oughta know about since you had to approve the damn thing— but anyway it's supposed to be like a Renaissance Fair or something. I figured you were gonna make me go with you, at least for an hour or two. Seems right up your book-nerd alley."

"I do remember signing off on that, now that you mention," Jim trailed off. He considered it for a minute. It would be good, he thought, if he at least stopped by for a little while. He wanted his crew to feel he supported their interests, and Bones was right— his interests in history and literature were piqued.

Bones rolled his eyes as if he had seen Jim's thoughts written on his forehead. "Stop rationalizing it so damn much. You're allowed to enjoy things on your own godforsaken ship."

"Alright," said Jim, like he was relenting to an hours-long debate. "I'll go, but only for a little while."

Bones smiled a little. "What are you gonna wear?"

Jim paused. If he remembered correctly costumes were highly encouraged. "What are you going to wear?" he countered.

Bones' smile grew. "Well actually, I had an idea…"

The next morning found Jim standing in his quarters staring at the mirror. When Bones had shared this idea, Jim hadn't expected him to arrive the next day with the costume in hand, practically throwing it at him. In fact, Bones seemed uncharacteristically excited about this idea. 

"Well?" Bones prompted from behind him, bouncing on his toes.

"It's nice," Jim said warily. He lifted his arms. His pants and boots were the regulation black boots and pants, but his shirt was white and billowy. The main piece was a command gold, double breasted frock coat with gold embroidery. He got a pirate hat to match, complete with a giant feather, and a thick belt that really looked more like a corset with a cardboard sword that hung off of it. "I don't see how it matches yours."

Bones, who was dressed in his normal clothes aside from a cowboy hat, frowned. "I never said anything about matching."

Jim dropped his arms, causing a poof sound from his sleeves. "Yes, yesterday when you said dress as a pirate you said 'to match'."

"I never said that," insisted Bones with a shake of his head. "Pirates don't go with cowboys."

Jim scoffed. "You're hardly even dressed as a cowboy. You're in jeans and a vest!"

"That's what cowboys wear!" Bones defended.

"Now," Jim countered, "this is a Renaissance Fair, you're supposed to dress from the past or fantasy at least."

Bones just rolled his eyes. "Do you like the costume or not?"

Jim turned his attention back to the image in the mirror. It was a fun costume and far nicer than anything he could have thrown together at the last minute himself. "Where did you get this?" he asked, pulling on the sleeves. 

"Uhura had it," Bones mumbled. 

Immediately, Jim narrowed his eyes. Whenever Bones and Nyota got together, it usually meant he and Spock were about to be flung at each other's heads in some ill-advised matchmaking attempt. Said plans never worked and Jim actively discouraged them, however much he wished that it would work. 

But Spock was unlikely to even be at the Renaissance Fair. There wasn't a whole lot of logic in dressing up and drinking mead. 

Jim sighed. He wasn't going to be able to find a better costume and it would feel rude to turn it down now. "Okay," he said, "pirate captain it is."

Bones grinned and smacked him on the arm. "Excellent. Let's go."

Jim followed him out the door, still suspect of his excitement. Though Jim couldn't deny he was starting to feel it too. It had been a long time since any of the shipboard activities the crew would throw had really been something that interested him. 

The event itself was buzzing with excitement, and Jim let his guard down. An entire recreation dec had been cleared out and made to look like an outdoor venue, complete with fake grass. Booths were lined up in rows and around the walls. In the center of the room a wood pavilion stood, and Jim could hear faint music coming from it. 

There was a good turn out, Jim thought. Though starships did tend to attract nerds.

Beside him, Bones took a deep breath. "You smell that? Smells like real food."

Jim hummed. It smelled like turkey legs. He turned, smirking, towards Bones. "Is that where you want to go first?"

Bones met him with a knowing look. "Like you don't."

Jim chuckled. "Let's start with this wall and work our way inward."

"Alright." Bones shrugged and followed along next to Jim as they strolled, looking at the booths that lined the wall closest to the entrance. Some of them were giving out crafts or pieces of artwork. Others were offering trades, one of your crafts for one of theirs, a craft for an artwork, a stuffed animal for handmade jewelry. More than a few were simply displays of collections paired with informational plaques about the items on display. The people running such booths chatted excitedly with interested people who stopped to look, offering additional information. Several were giving out fresh foods, with organic ingredients picked up at the last starbase they visited just a few weeks ago.

Jim came to a halt as he spotted a booth decked out with antique bound books, DVDs, and various other physical media. He stepped up to the display, reverently reading the description under each piece.

From behind a pile of books Cadet Wilson peaked out. "Hello, Captain," they greeted in a British accent Jim didn't recall them having. They were dressed very sharply in a tweed suit and bow tie.

"Hello, Doctor," Jim replied, smiling.

Wilson bounced happily on their toes. Jim was willing to bet he was the only one who had recognized the costume.

Bones walked up behind Jim and said, "Doctor? Doctor who?"

Jim and the Cadet chuckled.

"What'd I say?"

"Cadet Wilson is dressed as the main character ‘The Doctor’ from the old Earth series Doctor Who," Jim explained. "It's one of the best documented pop culture phenomena from the era just before World War III, because there were a lot of hard copies and a well established fan-base for several decades."

"A lot of the later seasons and specials were lost because they were only available on streaming services and most of those went down during World War III or shortly after," Cadet Wilson added. "My collection here is mostly common stuff that survived pretty well, all from that era of like 1960-2020. Lots of superheros and sci-fi. Though there are some pretty rare finds out there and a lot of media and cultural stuff that simply disappeared because it was all digital or behind paywalls that went down. There's a lot of pop culture and other historical stuff from that era that we only know existed because people continued to talk about it after World War III. The whole era is something of a mystery people like to theorize about."

"Interesting," Bones commented, though Jim knew he was just being polite.

"I didn't realize you were interested in this kind of stuff, Captain," Wilson said.

"I'm more knowledgeable about earth classical literature from older eras, but I spent some time studying this one when I was younger." In reality, he had been extremely into it in middle school, to the point where he ran one of the most successful blogs about it. His crew didn't need to know that though.

"Ah," said Wilson. "You should've stopped by earlier. I had two bound copies of classics from the 1920s, but someone already traded for them."

Jim tried not to let his disappointment show. "Sounds like you've had a good turn out."

"I have!" Wilson said, happily.

"Well, we'll let you get back to it," Jim said. He could tell Bones was getting antsy to find food.

"Allons-y!" Wilson exclaimed as they waved to Jim and Bones.

Once they were a good distance away Bones said, "You didn't have to leave the nerd booth just for me."

"Har har," said Jim, "I happen to be hungry too. Though we could split up if you wanted."

Bones seemed to startle, and Jim was reminded of his odd behavior earlier. "Not just yet," Bones said.

Jim furrowed his brow, but before he could point it out he noticed the stand giving out turkey and was distracted. Bones stepped ahead of him and got in the long line. As they stopped and waited, Jim looked around. They had made good time, having gotten pretty far from the entrance already. There were people passing them, going in either direction. Jim noticed a great variation in how people had dressed, some as creatures from their homeland's folklore, some as historical figures, some as people they admired from fiction, some in their plain off-duty clothes with one or two accents to mark them as dressed up. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spotted one such person.

A few stands over, Scotty was standing next to a pretty blond lieutenant from the science division. He was listening as she excitedly talked about the wood carvings they stood in front of. She was wearing a plaid skirt, white shirt, a corset, jewelry, and intricate hair styling, while Scotty wore his kilt and a ruffled shirt that sort of matched his date's. Scotty caught Jim's eye and smiled, then returned his attention to his date, nodding along to what she was saying.

Jim smiled to himself. “Well, Bones, are you enjoying yourself?”

Bones smirked and rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “I’m about to be,” he said, which Jim took to mean he was and didn’t want to say. 

By and by they made their way to the front of the line, accepting their portion of food gratefully. They kept walking leisurely, eating, and just generally taking the place in. A few booths down they came across a fascinating scene. 

Sulu had an eclectic assortment of things on display. Plants with a wide variety of sizes, smells, and home worlds were dispersed across his table intermittently with antique earth weapons. Three highwaymen were behind the booth, Lt. Jay, tending to the tallest plant, Sulu, fiddling with one of his guns, and Chekov, sitting down and playing with a Padd. 

As Jim and Bones approached, Sulu’s head popped up. “Hello, Captain,” he said with a growing grin, nudging Chelov. 

“Hello, everyone,” Jim said slowly, suspicious as Chekov, Sulu, and Jay eyed his costume and shared conspiratory looks. “What have you got here?” 

Sulu launched into an explanation of all the weapons present, the type of wound they’d cause, and how the plants could be used to treat said wounds. Chekov interjected every so often to inform them most of the things had actually come from Russia. Jay continued to watch Jim, clearly scheming. 

Something was afoot, but whether the highwaymen’s plot had something to do with Bone’s strange behavior, Jim couldn’t be sure. Slightly unnerved, Jim left Bones to discuss classic herbal remedies with Sulu and wandered into the next booth over. 

Lieutenant Carter, who was running the booth, was dressed in old-timey doctor’s scrubs and a lab coat. He had multiple crafts at his display, various ceramics, paper journals, and a selection of crocheted animals that were quite a bit lumpier than the other collections Jim had seen.

Carter saw him looking and said, “You can take one if you want, Captain. I’m still learning so I’m trying not to keep a lot of them.”

Jim picked up one of the smaller ones, a green octopus, and put it in one of his coat pockets. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said and moved to look at the clay animals. He picked up a small black dragon that was a decidedly different style than the rest of them, far less cutesy with a lot more teeth. 

“My wife made that one,” Carter explained, amused.

As if summoned, Security Officer Dare walked up and around the table to Carter. She was dressed in knight’s armor and a black cape. “What are you blaming on me this time?” she teased, poking Carter in the side. 

“Captain Kirk was just admiring your dragon,” Carter said with a smile. 

Dare turned to Jim grinning. “It’s cool isn’t it?”

“Very,” he told her.

“It’s scary,” Carter laughed, “you could have at least put glitter on it.”

“Shadow the Destroyer of Worlds would not like glitter. You should make him a significant other and they can have glitter.”

Jim and Carter both laughed at that, and Jim gently set Shadow the Destroyer of Worlds down. “I’m not the first one to pick that up am I?”

“Not by a long shot,” Carter said.

“That’s cause it’s the coolest one,” said Dare. Carter playfully bickered with her about the specifics of clay dragons, seeming to forget the captain was there. 

Jim slowly backed away out to the walkway, not wanting to get too involved in his crew’s personal lives or interpersonal relationships. Even if they were happy ones.

He pulled the green octopus out of his pocket to look at it again. Its eyes were uneven and the whole thing seemed to slant to the left no matter which way he held it, but Jim thought that just made it more endearing. He hadn’t actually picked it up for himself; it reminded him of Spock for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps he would like it, octopi were one of Earth’s more interesting creatures, and Spock’s scientific curiosity was especially piqued by marine animals, even if he wouldn’t admit so out loud. Then again, Jim had never seen him pick up a stuffed animal before. 

“Whatcha’ got there?” Bones said right at his shoulder, startling him. 

Quickly, Jim stuffed the lop-sided octopus back into his pocket. “Just a craft from Carter’s stand,” Jim trailed off. “Did you hear that?”

Bones scrunched his eyebrows together. “No?”

“Huh,” said Jim. “The music just changed.” In fact, it sounded more familiar.

Bones’ eyes went wide. “How long have we been here?”

Jim shrugged. “Almost an hour, gotta be. Why?”

“No reason,” said Bones, quickly. “Hey let’s go this way.” He grabbed Jim by the arm and tugged him towards the pavilion. Jim went along with him, realizing that whatever plan was being executed around him was about to reach its climax. 

Jim’s heart nearly stopped when they reached their destination. So it was a match-making plot after all, he thought distantly. 

In the center of the pavilion, Spock sat playing his Vulcan lyre. His make up was heavier than usual, black eye liner dramatically flared from his eyes up toward his brow. Below the eye liner, a shimmering ombre of dark green to blue to purple cascaded down Spock’s cheeks, breaking into denticle shapes and fading away near his jaw line. Above the eyeliner bright orange and yellow reached up to Spock’s brow and down past the corner of his eyes almost to the bridge of his nose. 

Spock’s costume was no less intricate. The top almost resembled Vulcan robes. A high black collar with white lining moved into a tight, regal looking tunic that fell down past Spock’s knees, ending in a layered asymmetrical mermaid cut. The fabric faded from black to the same dark green as the eye shadow toward the bottom. Zigzagging splotches of bright green, yellow, and orange appeared at his clavicles, travelled down his torso, and faded away. His pants were tighter than his normal ones, though the same black, and his shoes too were only slightly more heeled than regulation. The real show stopper was his sleeves,  though. The tops of his shoulders were bare then dark blue, shimmering, translucent fabric delicately draped into a bell shape and gathered below his elbows, then swept down toward the floor in a layered ruffled spiral, slitted so that the fabric reached toward the floor and didn’t interfere with his playing.

Jim only remembered to start breathing again when Bones unceremoniously shoved him into the last spot on the bench closest to the pavilion and sat behind him. 

Whether Spock was dressed as a real sea creature or mythical one, Jim couldn’t tell. He certainly looked tempting enough to seduce a sailor into the sea. Suddenly, the phrase to match made sense. 

Uhura, Bones’ partner in crime, moved around the stage next to Spock, singing. She was dressed in vibrant hues of red and orange. Fabric flowed off of her at points, giving her the look of a dancing flame.

Behind him, Jim heard hurried whispering, and he turned around to check what was happening. Yeoman Rand was dressed in a small white dress with spaghetti straps and a light blue translucent scarf. Grey tulle made little clouds around her wrists and in her hair. Her makeup too, was white with grey and sky blue accents. 

She was whispering quickly at Bones. Something about “sitting them all together.”

Bones, scrupulously avoiding Jim’s eye, whispered back, “It was the only seat in the front row!”

Concerned about what that meant, Jim finally thought to look around him. Next to him sat Nurse Chapel. Her dress was blue at the top and faded into a sea green towards the bottom. A ridge of white fabric covered her square neckline and reached around her arms. She looked back at him with a small smile. 

On Nurse Chapel’s other side at the other end of the bench sat Yeoman Byrd. She was a few years younger than Chapel, Uhura, and Rand. Jim had noticed the three had somewhat adopted her. She wore a black dress that had a green vine pattern and hiking boots, with several crystal and mineral accents worn as necklaces and bracelets. She didn’t seem to notice Jim had joined their row, eyes rapturously captured by the performance. 

Jim took her cue and returned his attention to the stage. Jim couldn’t understand the words to the song Uhura was singing, the Universal Translator having been shut off for the authenticity of the performances to shine through. But he understood the adventurous feeling conveyed by the tone of her voice and the way she flitted around the stage. Spock’s lyre produced music Jim had never heard from it before, almost Celtic sounding dancing music. Spock’s eyes seemed also to dance along with the music as his fingers quickly plucked and pulled the strings, hands moving quickly quite in a dance of their own. Jim let himself get lost in it, swaying and tapping his foot to the beat. 

As the performance continued, songs flowed into each other. The mood shifted from light and quick to relaxed and languid then subtly into sad and slow and back again. Jim was pretty sure Uhura even switched languages more than once. 

All too soon, Uhura stopped singing and bowed. “Thank you all for your attention and for coming out to the festival today,” she said. “I’m done for now, but Mr. Spock has one more song to play for us all. After that there’ll be a brief intermission before Lt. Hill joins us with her keyboard.”

Applause broke out as Uhura descended from the pavilion stage and made her way to sit somewhere behind Jim. Then a hush fell over the audience as the first few notes fell quietly from Spock’s lyre. This tune, Jim recognized as a Vulcan piece immediately. There was something in the way the notes matched and the timing seemed crisp in a way human music just wasn’t. Jim wasn’t musical enough to name the difference, but he thought it was beautiful all the same. He listened as the melody rose and fell, a show of the technical side of music, but heart-warming all the same. Spock’s eyes fell closed as he worked the steady, rhythmic sounds from the strings. The whole world seemed to fall away, only the beauty of Spock’s music and the way his eyelashes splayed on his cheeks remaining. 

Spock’s face stayed stoney and passive, and the notes stayed the musical equivalent of a technical manual, but emotion still stirred in Jim’s chest. It was as if the lyre were alive, wanting to express itself, yet kept in check by skilled hands. Jim could feel the tension of a twig about to snap throughout the whole piece. Jim recalled his tenuous place as captain, not quite a friend and not quite a boss. Was the Vulcan lyre like that? Not quite an art and not quite a science? The end of the song gave him little clarity, tapering off in the same chord it started with, just as songs are supposed to. 

Polite applause came from the audience as Spock rose and bowed his head. Jim thought he deserved a standing ovation, but not wanting to embarrass Spock, he resisted. 

Spock took his lyre and put it in a bag, then somewhat awkwardly got down off the pavilion and approached Jim. 

Jim stood to greet him. “That was wonderful, Spock, all of it.”

Spock graciously bowed his head. “Thank you, Captain. It was, as a human might say, quite outside my comfort zone.”

“I bet.” Jim smiled. “Not much logic in dressing up like this, hmm?”

Spock tilted his head to the side. “Lt. Uhura informed me that it was customary to don a costume at these events when I volunteered to perform with her. While I was opposed at first, designing and crafting the costume proved to be a satisfying creative and technical challenge.” 

“And it turned out very well. I didn’t make my costume. The whole thing was Bones’ idea, and he said he got the outfit from Uhura,” Jim told him.

Spock nodded. “Lt. Uhura was the one to suggest I dress as a marine creature, to contrast her fire spirit themed ensemble. Though, that was only for the performance, as she is now with a different group who appear to match.”

Jim followed his line of sight to where Uhura, Chapel, Rand, and Byrd were walking away arm in arm. All together they were clearly fire, water, air, and earth. 

“Well it seems we’re the matching ones now,” Jim said ruefully. 

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. He didn’t seem to mind, though. “I have heard that earth ‘merpeople’ are often depicted alongside earth pirate motifs. While folklore did exist on pre-Surakian Vulcan, I found no legends of sentient sea-beings remotely like that of earth’s, likely due to the scarcity of water on Vulcan.”

“Oh?” Jim said. So he was meant to be a siren.

“Vulcan folklore focused mostly on the mountains and our sister planet pre-Surak. I used my knowledge of the Voroth Sea and other cultures’ lore to extrapolate what a sentient Vulcan sea creature would look like.”

“And how did you go about that?” Jim probed. It wasn’t often he got so much information about Vulcan culture at once, but Spock seemed almost excited to talk about this, so Jim pushed his luck.

“I considered that the creature would need camouflage to stay hidden from scientists for so long, therefore, the base colors should look like Vulcan’s thick, low-oxygen water and the additional coloration should mimic the algae and other marine flora. Lastly I modeled the sleeves after the most common Vulcan marine animal, what you would likely identify as a jellyfish. I also tried to keep in mind the humanoid aspects assigned to such creatures, and the fact that I would need to be able to play my instrument and walk.”

“A very logical way of thinking about merpeople, Mr. Spock,” Jim complimented. Leave it to Spock to make a sexy fish person sound reasonable. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock replied. Jim was tempted to correct him, but given the pirate captain costume, he decided not to.

“What about real sentient marine species? Surely you could have taken inspiration from them too?”

“I considered that, but Lt. Uhura encouraged me to emphasize the fantastical nature. Additionally, many of their common features, webbed hands and dorsal fins for example, would have hindered my ability to play my instrument.”

“Well,” said Jim, “no one could say she steered you wrong.” 

Spock simply bowed his head. If Jim didn’t know any better he would say it looked as though Spock blushed for a moment, but that was just the light playing on his make up.

Jim cleared his throat. “Would you want to walk around the event? Me and Bones only made it about halfway through-“ Jim turned around to involve Bones in the conversation, but didn’t find him. In fact, the entire area around the pavilion had cleared out while they’d been talking. “Ah, well. I suppose he’s had enough for today,” Jim said, with a quite awkward laugh.

Spock didn’t seem to notice or mind that it would just be them. “I would be amenable to that.” He motioned for Jim to lead the way.

It was nice, walking around the faire with Spock. That familiar companionable silence settled over them and Jim felt a peacefulness that he hadn’t before. His crew laughed and walked around him and it didn’t matter that he wasn’t one of them. By his side was his equal, a note played at the same time, in perfect, proper harmony. 

If only there weren’t that tension Jim wasn’t sure he could snap.

“Captain,” said Spock, drawing Jim out of his reverie, “there was one matter which confused me regarding the costumes customary for a Renaissance Faire.”

“And what might that be, Mr. Spock?” 

“There seems to be a deficit of costumes themed around the European Renaissance period.” 

Jim laughed. “Yes there does, doesn’t there, Spock? When these fairs first started in the mid-twentieth century, they were completely focused on the Renaissance and European history. By and by, fantasy elements were introduced. Of course all fairs and things came to a screeching halt at the start of World War III, but afterwards they were reinstated— part of the efforts to foster community are raise morale— and altered to include more cultures. The tradition is still going strong, but Renaissance is really just a namesake at this point. Though there are some smaller fairs that have a specific niche, most of them are what you see here: an amalgamation of cultures coming together to celebrate history, craftmanship, and art.”

“Fascinating,” said Spock, eyes gliding over the booths, clearly recalculating. 

Jim smiled at him and joined in, looking from booth to booth. He slowed to a stop at one with instruments and antique music players. An old CD player and some CDs were on display as well as a reconstructed, digitized record player. Buckets of laminated sheet music sat on the other side of the display and a few pieces were shown off on little stands here and there. 

Yeoman Byrd and Lt. Uhura were chatting behind the table. Byrd noticed them first. 

“Hello, Captain,” she said brightly. “Oh! Mr. Spock! You’re back.”

Spock nodded to her. She continued to stare at him.

Uhura nudged Yeoman Byrd. “Why don’t you show the captain your music collection? He likes vintage stuff.”

Yeoman Bryd turned and started excitedly chittering about the various CDs and reconstructed records she had. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Spock sorting through the boxes of sheet music.

“Most of these are from right after World War III,” Byrd was saying. “A lot of more hopeful and unifying music was gaining popularity, and that’s what I like to play the most, I guess. I’ve also got the sheet music to most of this for a keyboard but I didn’t bring that out, most of it is on padds. I have the music for some older stuff too, but I didn’t bring it out.”

“Oh?” said Jim, mostly to be polite.

“Mhm! Bryce- uh- Cadet Wilson insisted I keep some pre-war indie music. I had CDs, but someone took those,” she trailed off, and her eyes wandered back to Spock, who was digging through the laminated papers, sedately to most people, furiously to Jim. He had a couple in one hand and was sorting through the rest with his other. 

“Those are up for grabs,” Byrd told him. “It’s all guitar stuff that I can’t play anymore. I had to drop it for my hand joints.”

Spock held up another piece. “I could likely transpose this for my lyre,” he said almost to himself. Then he seemed to snap back as he realized people were watching him. He placed the sheet music he had collected into his bag. “Thank you, Yeoman,” he said with a nod. 

She smiled at him.

“Well, thank you for your time ladies,” said Jim before moving back out into the aisle. He wondered who had taken the indie CDs. He would have liked to have looked at those. Maybe it was the same person that took Wilson’s antique books. 

He was ruminating over this made up person who took all his stuff when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a cowboy hat. He paused for a moment, then abruptly changed directions to go after it. Spock followed wordlessly. 

Bones was leaning against one of the outer posts of the ancient medicine tent.

As he got closer, he quieted his steps until he was right behind Bones. Then he bumped the back of his hat so it fell down over his face. 

Bones grabbed the hat and cursed. “What the- oh,” he stopped when he saw Jim. His scowl morphed into a grin. “Hello, Captain.” He nodded. “Spock.”

“Doctor.” Spock nodded back. He either hadn’t picked up that Bones was involved in their matching costumes or was doing a fabulous job hiding his annoyance, even from Jim.

Jim had taken a breath to say something about it, when Yeoman Rand politely set something down loud enough to remind him of hers and Nurse Chapel’s presence. He looked over to where they were and was taken aback by Chapel wielding a large, steel contraption. 

She smiled at him. “Hello, Captain. Need any stitches?” 

“Ah, no thank you,” he said. 

She laughed. “In between the days when doctors would stitch people up by hand and today’s dermal regenerators, these things would scan the patient’s injuries, apply lidocaine, and insert stitches where needed much faster than a human could.”

“Interesting,” remarked Spock.

“I’m glad to hear we’ve made advancements,” said Jim.

“Would you like to know what the rest of them do?” asked Rand. 

Jim scanned the various contraptions. They all looked like torture devices. A lot of them had very big needles. “I think I’m alright, thank you. Spock and I are getting ready to leave.” 

“You two have fun now,” said Bones, smirking.

Jim offered the ladies goodbyes before giving Bones a we-aren’t-done-talking face and stalking away from the display. For all the times Bones had called Jim a little shit, he sure did have his own shining moments. 

Jim turned to Spock a few steps away having felt Spock’s eyes on him. He was surprised to find amusement dancing there. 

“I was unaware you harbored a fear of medical devices, Captain.”

Jim felt his cheeks heat. “Not all of them,” defended lightly. “But I was serious, I should probably leave soon— I’ve shown my support. It's time to let the crew have their fun. You don’t have to come with me, obviously-“ 

Jim was cut short by a fencing sword poking him in the chest. While he’d been distracted, Sulu had popped around a booth and ambushed him. “You there! Give me all your pirate’s booty or defend it with your life!” Sulu’s eyes went to the fake sword at Jim’s hip and then back to his eyes pleadingly. A quick glance around told Jim that the three highwaymen had him surrounded and that Spock had abandoned him. And there were people watching. 

Jim resisted a sigh and pulled out his sword, to the cheers from the audience and a grateful look from Sulu. “Yar, ye can never have me treasure!” he exclaimed and dove head first into a theatrical battle with the three highway men. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but Sulu’s gang seemed to have planned on that and choreographed around it. Though he felt somewhat ridiculous, waving his sword around desperately. 

The fight wasn’t all that intricate, and Jim found himself getting lost in the role a little bit. The three highwaymen took turns attacking him and being fended off dramatically. They allowed him plenty of improvisation. The crowd steadily increased. 

At the first chance he got, Chekov feigned a fatal injury and fell. Jim saw Sulu throw him a perturbed glance. He supposed they had only gotten Chekov to participate as a favor. 

While he’d been occupied with Chekov, Jay had snuck up behind Jim. He whirled and swung wildly at her. He had to start flipping sides rapidly to fend off both Jay and Sulu, and though later he would regret acting so frivolously in front of his crew, he found he was having fun. 

Jay feigned the same injury Chekov had and fell off to the side of the little circle they were working in, which left just Jim and Sulu.

Sulu grinned and threw all of his flair into their finale, spinning and jumping, weaving around Jim to make him look to be far more challenging of an opponent than he really was. 

Eventually, Sulu followed his companions, letting Jim strike a final blow. 

Their audience cheered. Jim hadn’t realized how many people had stopped to watch. He leaned down to help Sulu up.

“Thank you for participating, Captain,” said Sulu softly as they shook hands. 

“Thanks for letting me win,” Jim replied.

“You did really well,” said Jay. “You should join us for improv night sometime.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Jim said. “Now, though, I really ought to go. I would say you three don’t rob anyone for real, but you seem to have lost one anyway.” 

Sulu and Jay looked around for Chekov, but didn’t find him. Sulu sighed while Jay just laughed. Jim took that as his opportunity to slip away.  

He found Spock lingering near the exit. 

“Aren’t you the one always saying it’s the first officer’s duty to protect the captain?”

Spock raised a brow. “I surmised you were in no real danger.” 

Jim chuckled. “I won my fight. No thanks to you.” 

“Congratulations,” Spock deadpaned. “I had predicted that you would be allowed to win, and it would not have been logical for a sea-dwelling sentient creature to defend a pirate.” 

“Oh no of course not. It would be illogical,” agreed Jim. “It has nothing to do with embarrassment or fun.” 

“Indeed.”

Jim just smiled and shook his head. He enjoyed this little game of theirs, despite its strict rules. “Come on,” he said, “it’s time for me to get out of here and I’m sure you’ve stayed longer than you wanted to.”

Spock nodded and followed behind Jim. “While I have found the cultural exchange and observation of crafts edifying, I do admit I would prefer to move to a quieter environment.”

“Well, you could come to my quarters for a game of chess,” Jim offered, already walking that direction.

“I would be amenable to that,” Spock replied, already following him.

Jim stepped into his quarters and led the way towards where he kept the chess board set up. 

Spock stopped abruptly, midway there. 

“Jim,” he said, "I understand it is a custom to obtain gifts at such functions.” 

Jim watched as Spock dug into his bag and retrieved three items.

“These are for you,” Spock said, extending to Jim a copy of Agatha Christie’s The Mysterious Affair at Styles, a copy of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, and a CD titled ‘Hozier’s greatest hits.’ 

“It was you,” Jim blurted.

Spock, rightfully, just blinked at him.

Jim snapped out of it and took the gifts from Spock’s hand. “What I mean is, Wilson and Byrd both told me these things had already been traded for. It was you, collecting them for me.”

Spock’s eyes crinkled in what was a slightly warmer look to most, but a radiant smile to Jim. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” said Jim. He walked away to put his gifts on his night stand and to hide the goofy grin he couldn’t quite suppress. 

When he came back to Spock he said, “I got you something too. It isn’t nearly as good as what you got me though.” He pulled the octopus out of his pocket and handed it to Spock. “I’m not sure why, but it reminded me of you.”

Spock accepted it, and then just stood there staring at it for far longer than Jim liked. It really did look like Spock was blushing, Jim thought. 

The silence stretched so long that Jim was about to apologise when Spock said, “I knew.” 

“What?” said Jim. 

“When Lieutenant Uhura suggested that I dress as a siren, she also disclosed that you would be dressed as you are and the connection between the two costumes,” Spock said, as though he were talking to the octopus. 

“You wanted to match with me?” Jim asked. “Why not just ask me?”

At last Spock looked up from the octopus back at Jim. “Yes, I wanted to match with you,” he said. "I am aware of the romantic connotations between the two myths. I found it easier to ask for help in encouraging you.” 

Jim, to his credit, didn’t fall over or wake up from a dream as he thought he might. Instead he inched closer to Spock. “Is that something that you want? Romantic connotations?” 

“I believe it is a mutual desire.” Spock held up the green octopus. 

Jim laughed. “That’s what gave me away?”

“It is rather direct,” Spock deadpanned. 

“Spock?” 

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Spock moved the octopus out of the way. “Yes.” 

Jim surged forward and planted his lips on Spock’s as gently as he could bare to. For one agonizing moment Spock didn’t respond, but then, gently his lips moved against Jim’s, pressed back, and Jim felt something inside his soul finally settle. The tension of being hung between officer and not-quite-lover finally snapped. He couldn’t help but smile against Spock’s lips. One of the absurd match-making attempts had finally worked. 

Jim pulled back to look Spock in the eye. “You knew,” he started, “that Bones and Nyota were trying to set us up this time and you went along with it. Did you know all of those other times too?” 

“On multiple occasions I asked Lieutenant Uhura to help me convey my intentions to you, and she enlisted Dr. McCoy, yes,” Spock said. “Though the first few times they attempted it, it was without my foreknowledge." 

Jim looked at Spock astonished. “All this time you were in on it,” he mumbled. “What about that time where they stuck us in the one bedroom for that entire shore leave?” 

“Yes, I was aware of their intentions then,” Spock confirmed.

“And that time they signed us up for a couple’s ritual at a first contact ceremony?”

“Yes.”

“And that time they told the ambassador we were staying with that we were married?” 

“That time, I was not as you say ‘in on it’ beforehand, but I approved of their efforts.” 

Jim scoffed. “This is unbelievable. This whole time they’ve been wingmanning, not matchmaking. What am I going to do with you three?” 

Spock’s eyes seemed to twinkle as he said, “I cannot give you advice on how to handle your relationships with other crew members, however I suggest that kissing me again may be an appropriate course of action.” 

“Hmm, yes that does sound appropriate,” Jim said and let his hands travel up Spock’s arms to his shoulders. From there, he pulled Spock in and kissed him. It did occur to him that they were in Jim’s quarters with a bed not far away, but that was probably moving too fast and Jim wanted to savor this. 

“Romantic connotations,” Jim repeated into Spock’s mouth when he pulled away. “Why don’t we talk about that over a game of chess?” 

“I would be amenable to that,” Spock murmured back. 

Jim hummed and led him over to the table where the chess board was set up. Then something stopped him again.

“Why is my gift direct?” Jim complained. “Your gift was much more romantic.”

Spock raised a brow at him. “Perhaps at a later date I will give you a visual demonstration. Suffice it to say, it is a matter of anatomy.” 

Jim gave a surprised laugh. “Well, then I look forward to it.” He sat down across from Spock, feeling much more like he was on even ground. As they talked Jim felt something inside relax. With Spock he was captain, but he was also Jim. He would never need to worry about being too personal, because Spock would follow him into hell anyway. Here with Spock, he was finally allowed to simply be every part of himself, just as he allowed Spock to be.