Chapter Text
Spock always heard the captain singing in their shared bathroom. In the shower, while he brushed his teeth, when he washed his face.
Jim wasn't terribly talented at it, his voice missing the highest and deepest notes, but he wasn't tone-deaf and he very much sang with passion.
Usually if Spock and him were together in the bathroom, however, it was silent. Silence would fill the small room as Spock attempted to calmly wash his face while Jim brushed his teeth.
Was he embarrassed to sing in my presence? Does he worry I might judge him? Does he find himself uncomfortable around me? Spock found himself asking himself these questions every time as he watched Kirk from the corner of his eyes smile widely at his reflection as he brushed his front teeth.
He still bounced like he was singing though, resting his weight on alternate feet back and forth in rhythm to a beat Spock didn't even try to identify.
One evening Spock heard Jim enter their bathroom and start the water in his sink. Spock was working on some pastime research at his bedside and didn't pay too much mind to his captain until he realized that he wasn't singing.
Curious, he peeked a head into the bathroom.
Kirk was brushing his teeth and had a pair of earbuds in, something Spock hadn't seen the captain use before. They were attached to a small device and the audio was coming from the buds so loudly Spock could easily identify it as music, but could not ascertain what kind.
Kirk moved his head and his hips together in an energetic, clunky, and unattractive dance that made Spock almost smile to himself. He brushed his teeth erratically and energetically, back and forth. He mouthed the lyrics to his song with fervor, wrinkling his nose and squeezing his eyes shut at a particularly dramatic note, pulling his brush out of his mouth to use as a microphone.
If only the crew were to witness this, Spock mused. But he preferred having this version of Jim to himself, and probably to Bones, who had lived with Jim in the academy and likely saw something similar. There was no way to describe Spock’s reaction without inferring an emotional adjective which was both pleasant and strange for Spock.
He was about to pull away from the door frame and shut the door, leaving as silently as he had come in, but Jim saw him out of the corner of his eye and froze.
His face flushed, and he straightened his posture from where he stopped in his dance, frantically pausing the music.
Spock felt his face turn green a little himself. “My apologies, captain, at this intrusion.”
“No, no uh, it’s fine, Spock.”
“Acknowledged, captain.” Spock replied as coolly as he could manage, pulling from the door frame.
Spock turned before Jim could reply “it’s Jim,” leaving the captain standing dumbfounded and blushing at the sink, white toothpaste foam at the side of his mouth.
A visual stimulant Spock would hold dear to him for quite some time.