Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

James T. Kirk is bad. A bad boy, and bad for you. At least, that’s what he wants people to think. Admiral Pike exhales a deep sigh and leans back in his chair, shifting his gaze from his console to the young man sitting across from him on the other side of his desk. The cadet is bruised and bloodied, holding an ice pack to his forehead, and wetting the blond hair at his temple. He’s slouching in his chair with his ass hanging off the seat. All of his weight is on the arms of the chair, leaning on his elbows, and letting the hand not occupied with the ice pack hang loosely off the arm of the chair. And much to Pike’s chagrin, the cadet looks bored.

Despite the “bad boy” exterior presented by James Kirk, Admiral Pike knows him better than anyone else at Starfleet Academy. Having been a friend of the boy’s father, he has known him for years, and knows just how intelligent and hard-working he can be when he puts his mind to it. Grades aren’t Kirk’s problem. It’s what he does in his free time.

“Cadet Kirk,” Admiral Pike begins, “what on earth were you thinking?”

The cadet shrugs. “I wasn’t.”

The two words are abrupt, but not harsh; rather than sounding apologetic or defensive, the statement is spoken flatly and as a matter-of-fact. Pike searches his face for any sign of emotion slipping through the cool façade that Kirk has manufactured and comes up empty.

“Kirk, this is the third time you’ve been brought to my office under these... circumstances. I know you don’t care about your well-being but I do,” Pike places emphasis on the last two words and let’s them hang in the air. Softly but seriously, he continues, “Jim, I made a promise to your father.”

Kirk flinches at the mention of his father then resumes his cool, uncaring attitude as if it didn’t even happen. “Good luck keeping it.”

Pike’s heart drops into his stomach at the way the words so carelessly leave the cadet’s lips. The worry lines in his face become more prominent as he searches for any sign of the man he knows Kirk is capable of being. The flinch when he mentioned Kirk’s father did not go unnoticed, and for a second he had held hope that he was actually getting through to the boy. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Kirk, on the other hand, has taken a sudden interest in the wall to Pike’s left, suddenly unwilling to meet the admiral’s gaze. Pike wonders exactly what Kirk is trying to avoid by staring off into the distance rather than looking at his face. Maybe the disappointment on Pike’s face was more obvious than he thought.

Feeling resigned and exhausted from the exchange, Pike sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m putting you on three-months probation. Curfew twenty-hundred hours, permission required to leave the Academy premises. I suggest you focus on your studies.”

Kirk snaps his eyes back to the admiral, mouth agape. “You’re fucking kidding me,” the disbelief in his voice the first shred of emotion he’s conveyed the entire time he’s been in the office.

Pike remains resolute in spite of the sudden outburst from the cadet, expression carved into stone like marble. He knows this is necessary for Kirk to come away from the conversation without a fight. He knows Kirk is used to tough love.

“It’s for your own good. If I see you in this office for the same thing a fourth time, I am going to throw the book at you,” Pike warns sternly, but then softens his eyes. “I mean it, Jim. I hate to see you do this to yourself.”

The shock leaves Kirk’s face and is replaced with anger. Heat rises to Kirk’s cheeks and he turns a bright pink, his blue eyes suddenly stormy. The fingers of his free hand curl into fists, and he bangs the arm of the chair in a frightening display of his fury. This causes Pike to lean back in his chair and away from the young cadet; not in fear, but in an attempt to give Kirk the space he knows he needs. 

“Oh, fuck you, Pike,” Kirk says in a raised voice, but not quite a shout. He exhales and regains his composure. After a beat he says, “Fine, whatever. I’ll focus on my studies.”

Unfazed by Kirk’s sudden outburst, Pike feels a wave of satisfaction at being able to talk the boy down but resists a smile knowing it would just piss off the boy and undo all his hard work. The admiral straightens his back and folds his hands in front of himself on his desk before carefully choosing his next words, performing the role of an authoritative but fatherly figure. 

“Alright, get out of here and don’t get into any trouble on campus, or you’ll be getting worse than probation.”

✧

Cadet Kirk looks over himself once more in the mirror just to be sure that his hair is not in an embarrassing state. He glances over the dried blood on his split lip and the bruise darkening his cheek. The bruise has started to turn an ugly yellow color as it heals, but has not faded any, not that he expected it to be completely gone in five days. He fusses with his hair for two more seconds, then grabs his things, rushing out the door of his dorm and running in the direction of the class he is currently late for.

Kirk attends three classes on Wednesdays, two of which he actually enjoys. The last class of the day, however, he can’t wait to escape. The final class of the day is Computer Programming, and Kirk feels like he learns nothing new every time he attends. Not to mention the instructor is a total tight-ass. A Vulcan named Commander Spock, completely humorless and unbearable to listen to, especially when every lecture is about something he’s already familiar with. Unable to do anything else with his time while on probation, Kirk attends anyway, deciding to use his PADD for personal entertainment rather than working on the assignment that everyone else is working on. Kirk makes no effort to hide the pre-warp video game he is playing intently while Spock makes rounds, checking on student progress. Although Kirk is not worried about being told off for his inattention, he is still surprised when Spock passes by him silently.

When the bell rings, Kirk saves his game, puts his PADD into his bag to leave, and stands to begin moving towards the door. As he does, he is stopped by the sudden mention of his name.

“Cadet Kirk,” Spock says abruptly. “A moment, if you please.”

Kirk’s stomach drops as he pauses and turns on his heels. Maybe Spock cared about him not paying attention after all. Kirk walks carefully over to where the instructor sits at his desk at the front of the classroom, hands folded. Kirk can’t help but feel a pang of envy at the sight of the rest of his classmates rushing out the door eagerly in a blur of black and red. 

“Yes, Commander?” Kirk asks hesitantly.

Spock waits until the rest of the students have cleared out then asks, “Are you aware that you failing this class?”

Kirk breathes a sigh of relief. It wasn’t about his gaming addiction after all. He feels the tension leave his body and then his brain catches up to Spock’s question. He shrugs, “I’m not surprised.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. Kirk’s casual demeanor and nonchalance about the subject does not escape his notice. He wonders if the cadet had no intention of passing the class at all, but finds it most illogical as Kirk regularly attends classes. However, he notes, he uses class time to play retro video games and never hands in assignments. Hoping that his confusion does not show in his voice he asks, “May I ask you to clarify your intentions?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why bother coming to class at all?”

Spock looks at Kirk, eyebrow raised, head tilted, and Kirk can feel his curiosity and intensity in the unspoken question hanging in the air. Why don’t you just drop my class? Kirk is hesitant to reply honestly and instead lets his defensive and cocky nature get the better of him. He rolls his eyes at the instructor’s question and shifts his weight to his other foot.

“Well, I was hoping to learn something that I didn’t already know,” Kirk responds.

Spock feels an irrational but reflexive irritation to the dismissive attitude of the cadet before him, acknowledges it, and controls it, not letting it show on his face or in his voice. This process takes him less than a second after years of practice. The irritation is replaced with genuine concern. This was the first class he had taught at the Academy and if one of the students found the material lacking it could require a rewrite of the course. He had to inquire about this immediately.

“Do you find my class insufficiently challenging, Cadet Kirk?” Spock asks with genuine concern, rather than the irritation he initially felt.

Kirk is taken aback by Spock’s show of concern, but brushes it off. What a ridiculous question. He had been programming since he was a teenager, hacking and creating software for other rebellious teens such as himself. He can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his throat, emptying his lungs of air loudly and hurting his sides. Spock’s raised eyebrow at Kirk’s reaction telling him that he fails to see the humor in his question.

“I could do any assignment you give me with my eyes closed.”

Aware of the human turn of phrase, he ignores the obvious contradiction in Kirk’s statement, and finds it does not come off as cocky, but rather confident. Spock is inclined to believe him despite Kirk’s record to the contrary. Five weeks into the semester, Kirk has failed to turn in any assignments, and Spock is known to give one assignment per week. If Kirk could indeed “do any assignment” with his “eyes closed,” why hasn’t he turned in any of the five assignments that are currently due? The illogical nature of the obvious contradiction colors the next question out of Spock’s mouth, despite his best efforts to suppress his irritation. 

“Then why have you not turned in any assignments this semester, Cadet Kirk?”

Kirk huffs in response. Not quite a laugh this time, but breaks the intense eye contact that Spock has been laying into him. He feels as Spock’s eyes continue to burn into him and his ears start to turn pink. He eyes the posters on the wall at the other side of the classroom near the door and tries to ignore the turning of his stomach. Suddenly, he starts to regret staying behind. Attempting to regain his composure while also feeling anxious, he crosses his arms in front of himself.

“Well, I was gonna do all the assignments the last week of classes and then hand them in before the deadline,” Kirk says.

Spock pauses and looks him over. He cannot detect a hint of dishonesty in the cadet’s words. Regardless, Spock feels that he is missing something. Surely Cadet Kirk cannot be serious. The class is 14 weeks long, with one assignment per week, and the final assignment being a larger project incorporating everything from the semester. Even a student with an aptitude for programming would find themselves struggling to complete the task that Kirk was putting before him.

“You were going to do fourteen programming assignments in one week?” Spock asks in disbelief and silently chastises himself for allowing it show.

Kirk, still staring off into the distance, refusing to meet Spock’s eyes, shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I mean, it wouldn’t be that hard.”

Spock is suddenly finding himself infuriated by the cadet in front of him. He acknowledges the emotion and controls it. He attempts to find the logic in the sudden flash of emotion, but is unable to determine the exact cause of it. Perhaps he finds the cadet’s dismissive attitude towards Spock’s work to be insulting? Perhaps he finds the cocksure way he presents his “plan” to be so unbelievable that it strikes him as defiant? Unable to pin down what it is that has caused the emotion, he casts it aside, and speaks plainly.

“Cadet Kirk, I ask that you either take this class seriously or drop the class from your schedule.” 

“No can do, sir,” Kirk responds quickly. “I need this class for the command track. I don’t care if I end up with a C- but I need this class.”

“Then you must do your assignments promptly, or I will fail you.”

Kirk’s heart pounds and he looks back at the instructor, mouth agape.

“What? Why?” he asks loudly, unaware that his voice has risen as adrenaline begins to course through his veins. Sweat starts to show at his temples, threatening to crumble his aloof demeanor.

Spock notices the change in Kirk’s attitude immediately and feels a wave of satisfaction. Perhaps Kirk was starting to see the importance of taking his class seriously. Resisting the tug at the corners of his lips, he answers, “It is illogical to assume that I would be content with receiving and grading all fourteen assignments at once at the end of the semester.”

Kirk’s face falls with the sudden realization. Of course. He hadn’t considered that aspect of his plan. Spock continues, ignoring the sudden shift in Kirk’s composure.

“I have twenty-three other students in this class, all of whom will be turning in their final projects as well as any they may have missed due to sickness or absences otherwise excused,” Spock continues. “It is unacceptable to receive all of your assignments at the deadline when you have regularly attended classes, and when I have very little time to grade everything.”

Kirk follows the instructor’s logic. It is sound—annoyingly so. Kirk wonders how he could have failed to consider this. Maybe he thought he could talk his way out of it later; better to ask forgiveness than permission. Or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck. It’s difficult to give a fuck about a class that holds absolutely no interest to him and that he doesn’t find challenging in the slightest.

Spock waits patiently for a reply, still watching the cadet as he shifts his weight and readjusts the strap of his bag. He can’t be arsed to do the assignments as he receives them, and he can’t afford to fail the class if he intends to become a captain in the time-frame he promised Pike. What other choice does he have but to convince Commander Spock to give him more challenging assignments? Perhaps he could convince the instructor to do just that, but he is also aware that Spock may not have the time or the means to produce extra material just for him. He decides his best course of action is to provoke the Vulcan and hope that it motivates Spock to give him more difficult assignments regardless.

Kirk regains his confidence, smirking and leaning on the instructor’s desk. “Well, I thought the challenge of fourteen assignments in one week would motivate me enough to slog through your boring material.” 

Kirk’s smirk threatens to turn into a shit-eating grin. He notices as Spock tenses up, clearly bothered by the attitude that the cadet is suddenly giving him. Spock recognizes that Kirk is clearly trying to get under his skin, to borrow an Earth phrase, and it is not exactly not working.

Kirk continues, “I guess five assignments in one week will have to do. Although, I’d rather be getting the shit kicked out of me at the bar.”

Spock notes the split lip and bruised cheek, and assumes that ‘getting the shit kicked out of him at a bar’ is precisely what caused the marks. He considers this for a moment. Kirk would rather be assaulted than work on his assignments? Was his material that disagreeable? Spock finds it illogical, and determines that Kirk must just be bored with the unchallenging nature of the work. As if reading the cadet’s mind, Spock raises an eyebrow at Kirk.

“Alright, then,” Spock says to Kirk’s surprise. “I wish for you to assist me on an undertaking of mine. A simulation program designed as a test for cadets in the command track.”

“What?” Kirk asks in disbelief. Did his dumb-ass idea actually work? He basically told the instructor that his class blows and now here he was offering him a real chance to flex his programming skills. In his field, no less. He stops leaning on the instructor’s desk and stands up straight, finding himself suddenly interested in the Vulcan’s proposal.

“I would find your insight as an aspiring captain invaluable, and if you find the assignments as simple as you claim, I could use your skill as a programmer.”

Kirk looks at Spock for a long time. He studies the Vulcan with a cautious eye, looking for any sign of duplicity, and comes up empty. Finally relaxing the tension he wasn’t aware he was holding in his shoulders, Kirk responds to Spock’s insane request.

“Instead of the assignments, you mean? I would still pass the class?”

“That is what I am implying, yes.”

Kirk feels his heart threaten to escape his chest and he fights the excitement down. He suppresses a smile to maintain his cool demeanor, shrugs, and then flippantly replies, “Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

✧

Kirk is to meet Spock in his office in the faculty section of the campus to work on the project. The Kobayashi Maru, it was to be called, named after the ship in distress at the heart of the simulation. He stops at the campus café to grab a coffee before heading over to the instructor’s office, and grabs Spock a tea. They had been working on the project for a bit now, working on Spock’s off days. The weather is starting to get cold and the leather jacket that Kirk insists on wearing year-round does little to prevent a chill from running up his spine. The warm cups in his hands feel like a comfort in the autumn air. Kirk hopes that Spock appreciates the tea, remembering how their last session ended.

Kirk and Spock did not exactly end the previous session on a good note. Kirk had been thinking about the no-win scenario presented by the test, and had to admit that on some level the concept bothered him. He was not able to articulate what he found objectionable during their last session, so he ended up storming out of Spock’s office in a curse-laden rant. 

Kirk takes a moment to watch the steam rise out of the red paper cups held in his hands and takes a deep breath of the coffee-scented air. Gathering his courage, he finally steps towards the direction of the faculty building.

Arriving about three minutes after purchasing the hot drinks, Kirk stops and holds his coffee in the crook of his elbow, knocking on the door. Spock answers a beat later.

“Got you a tea,” Kirk says, moving his coffee back into his right hand and offering the cup in his left.

Spock takes the cup from Kirk and reads the tag hanging at the side of it. Content with what he reads, he sips the tea as he turns and walks back to his chair. Kirk invites himself in, closing the door behind him and setting his coffee down on the large, wooden desk that takes up the middle of the small room. Kirk carefully takes his PADD out of his bag and places it on the desk next to his drink, shrugs off his leather jacket, and places it on the back of his chair. This is now the fourth time he’s done these exact same movements, almost a ritual at this point. Kirk notes how familiar this is starting to feel to him and remembers how it started.

The first day had been awkward. It was the day after Spock’s proposal, and Kirk got lost on his way to the office, having little familiarity with the faculty building in general. He didn’t know the Vulcan very well, so Kirk mostly resigned himself to looking around the small office and taking in the numerous books lining the shelves. The physical books. He had asked Spock about this and the instructor informed him that he found the longevity and offline nature of the physical items to be most convenient. Kirk decided the Vulcan simply had a fetish for the items.

On the walls of the office, Kirk noticed the documents promoting Spock to Commander, as well as his diploma. Kirk had figured Spock not to be much older than himself and was impressed with how quickly he graduated and became an instructor, saying as much to Spock, who confirmed that he was indeed three years his senior and that his promotion had been fairly recent. Spock informed him that this class was actually the first one he taught and suddenly Kirk had felt like a total asshole for his behavior the previous day.

They quickly settled in and found a rhythm that worked for them, Spock working on his desktop console while Kirk worked on his PADD. They worked on separate parts of the simulation the first couple of days, then on the third day, they began to put it all together. This is where the argument started.

Kirk sits down in his seat across from Spock and he pulls himself out of his reverie. He clears his throat, “About Monday...”

“You wanted to apologize?” Spock cuts him off, eyeing the tea next to his keyboard.

“Yeah,” Kirk says, “it was… rude of me… to say all that shit to you, even if I didn’t agree with the premise of the simulation.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. ‘Rude’ is putting it lightly. He thinks back to the argument they had just days before. ‘This is fucking bullshit! I don’t believe in no-win scenarios, so you can shove your simulation up your Vulcan ass, if you even have one.’

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he finally decides on saying. “I hope we can put our differences aside and continue work on the simulation.”

Kirk smiles and opens the program on his PADD. “Yeah, man. Of course.”

“Just one question.”

Kirk’s smile falls from his face. “Yeah?”

“Are you truly unaware of whether or not Vulcans possess a rectum?”

Kirk laughs and winks, “I’m a visual learner. Maybe you should show me.”

Spock catches on to Kirk’s meaning and lowers his eyebrows. Obviously he is aware, then. This confounds him even further, muddying the meaning of the insult from the previous session. He is reminded of his mother telling him that humans are illogical creatures, and considering the apology from Kirk, decides that understanding the outburst was no longer relevant.

Spock takes one last look at the cadet seated across from him, then takes a sip from the tea Kirk had purchased as an apology, and opens the program on his console to begin the work. They had started to integrate the distress call from the Kobayashi Maru into the simulation, working on all that it required: communications channels, proper distress beacon positioning, etc., ensuring that it all worked realistically. They chipped away at the bugs as their cups started to empty, and Kirk’s stomach began to grumble.

“We can take a break for food, if you require it,” Spock says upon hearing the sound of Kirk’s stomach.

“Yeah, that’d be great, actually. Thanks, Commander,” Kirk says.

The cadet stands up and suddenly realizes how stiff his muscles had become while working. With a groan, Kirk raises his arms into the air over his head in a big, exaggerated stretch. Spock watches as Kirk’s shirt rises and reveals light brown hair against pale skin, then quickly looks away, realizing how inappropriate the action might be perceived.

“Wanna come grab something to eat?” Kirk asks.

Spock shakes his head, “I require less sustenance than yourself. Please, get something to eat and come back in thirty minutes. I will submit the form permitting you to leave the campus.”

“Suit yourself.” 

Kirk grabs his jacket and shrugs it on. Spock watches as he leaves and then returns to working on the program. Thirty minutes pass, and Kirk has still not returned. The instructor looks over at Kirk’s PADD and the bag still sitting by the chair. Kirk’s belongings are still in his office. Spock concludes, logically, that Kirk must be running late and amends his permission form to add another thirty minutes. It is seventeen minutes later that the cadet arrives.

At first, Spock does not look up from his program, but something white out of the corner of his eye prompts him to. When he looks at Kirk, the cadet is holding a napkin to his lip. Knowing that the lip had been split the week before, Spock raises an eyebrow of concern. “Cadet Kirk? Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Kirk replies. “Just got into a little argument at Tony’s.”

Spock knows that Tony’s was a fast food establishment not far from their location, and calculates that Kirk should only have taken twenty-three minutes to arrive at Tony’s, order his food, eat, and then arrive back here. Twenty-five minutes at most. Whatever the argument, it added approximately twenty-four minutes to Kirk’s absence and resulted in Kirk’s lip being split open once more. “Should I report the altercation to Admiral Pike?”

Kirk knows that Spock is simply showing concern for his well-being but he tenses up at the thought anyway, knowing what Pike said the last time he was in his office. ‘If I see you in this office for the same thing a fourth time, I am going to throw the book at you.’ Kirk can’t suppress the shudder at the thought.

“No, please don’t.” Kirk sits back down in his chair, not bothering to remove his jacket. “It probably won’t happen again.”

“‘Probably’?”

Kirk sighs and removes the napkin from his face. “It was the same guy from the bar. I was hoping to avoid him,” he says dejectedly. “But he’s another cadet and there’s only so many places people go for food around here.”

Spock raises an eyebrow at hearing the altercation was with another cadet. “Can I ask what the argument was about? Considering this appears to be the second altercation, I can’t help but be curious.”

Kirk stifles laughter. He had heard about Vulcan curiosity. It made them some of the greatest scientists in the Federation but was proving a bit inconvenient at the moment. He considers being completely honest with the instructor but knows that the full story would take at least ten minutes away from their work, and he would much rather not get into it with his teacher of all people.

Kirk decides to give him the short answer. “I fucked his girlfriend.” 

Spock feels a tinge of heat color the tips of his pointed ears at the response, and no doubt his cheeks. He attempts to suppress it immediately before Kirk has a chance to see and process the embarrassing emotional response. As he wills the color to leave his face, he watches Kirk as he crumples the napkin, now stained with dots of red, and tosses it casually into a waste basket in a motion similar to that of throwing a basketball. Still seated in his chair, he shrugs off his leather jacket and leaves it discarded behind him, the sleeves of the jacket brushing the floor next to his bag. He then unlocks his PADD and begins work on the simulation as if he had said nothing at all. Most illogical.

“Ah, I see,” is all Spock can manage after a moment of self-control. “Shall we continue the work on the program?”

“Let’s rock and roll.”

Chapter Text

At first, Spock does not look up from his program, but something white out of the corner of his eye prompts him to. When he looks at Kirk, the cadet is holding a napkin to his lip. Knowing that the lip had been split the week before, Spock raises an eyebrow of concern. “Cadet Kirk? Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” Kirk replies. “Just got into a little argument at Tony’s.”

Spock gets up from his seat and walks out from behind his desk. He leans down over Kirk, coming dangerously close to the cadet’s face. The Vulcan takes his warm left hand, placing his index finger under Kirk’s chin, and gently lifts his face so that his eyes meet Spock’s. Kirk feels the heat rise in his cheeks under the Vulcan’s intense eyes, a tingle of emotion in Spock’s fingertips. What emotion is that? Kirk feels his arms go numb and lets the napkin fall away from his face, a trickle of blood still wet on his split lip. Spock’s thumb grazes over the injury and Kirk winces.

Spock whispers, “Who did this to you?”

Spock’s breath is hot on Kirk’s face and Kirk can feel an involuntary reaction occurring in his jeans. He attempts to pull away from Spock’s touch and the instructor grips the cadet’s chin even tighter. Spock’s eyes are filled with a most non-Vulcanlike desire and flick down to Kirk’s mouth and then back up to his eyes as if asking permission. Kirk does not try to pull away again and knows his eyes give away the desire of his own. Spock takes Kirk’s mouth in his, lips pressing tightly, threatening to split open the lip once more. Kirk can feel the coppery taste of blood as Spock kisses him hard and he reaches up with his free hand, placing it on the Vulcan’s back. He opens his mouth, inviting Spock’s tongue—

And wakes up. Kirk is panting and sweating. He looks at the chronometer next to his bed and reads 0236. He has five and a half more hours of sleep before he needs to get up and get ready for the day. He breathes a deep sigh of relief but then remembers the dream he just woke from. Reluctantly, he looks down at his crotch and finds that he’s half hard. What the fuck was that about? Nearly six weeks of classes, seeing the man around campus, and never giving him a single thought. But now that’s he’s been working with him for four days? Kirk sighs and rolls over onto his back, hand reaching into his boxers. Might as well take care of this. He refuses to think of Spock, and instead focuses on an encounter he had before his probation started over a week ago. An Orion girl with red hair. He satisfies himself and then goes back to sleep.

✧

“You’re working with the Vulcan?” Bones asks in disbelief. It’s Tuesday, and Jim is taking lunch with his friend, Dr. Leonard McCoy, but Jim prefers to call him Bones. They met on the shuttle to Starfleet Academy and felt a sense of kinship right away. Now, the doctor and Jim sit across from each other in the mess hall, only somewhat filled with students, as most of the academy usually leaves campus for lunch, a luxury that Jim did not have access to for the next two and a half months.

Jim looks at his friend’s face of shock and disgust, and laughs. “Yeah, he’s not so bad. Plus, it beats having to work on the shitty assignments he’s giving everyone else.”

“‘He’s not so bad’?” the doctor can’t believe what’s hearing. “This is Commander Spock we’re talking about,” he gestures wildly with his hand. “He’s made children cry!”

“That’s yet to be seen,” Jim replies and goes back to eating his lunch. Eager to change the subject, Jim cheerfully says, “You know what I miss, Bones? Drinking. Do you think we can do some of that soon?”

Bones sighs, too tired to continue with his interrogation. “When’s the next time you’re free?”

“Uhhh, Friday, I think? I have class tomorrow, and then I’m working on the project with Spock on Thursday.”

“Don’t you have class with him tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“You’re seeing this man more than you’re seeing your own shadow,” Bones scoffs.

Jim laughs and nearly chokes on his food. He realizes Bones is right. He’s been seeing a lot of Spock lately. In light of this realization, the dream from the night before makes a lot more sense. He’s just been seeing a lot of Spock, and so he dreamt about him. As for the nature of the dream… Maybe Jim was more pent up than he thought. After all, the last time he went to the bar, he didn’t manage to go home with anyone. Mostly because Bones had dragged him out, nearly unconscious. So, Jim is pent up and seeing a lot of Commander Spock lately. He breathes a sigh of relief and releases tension in his shoulders he didn’t know he was holding.

Jim jokes, “Yeah, I’m even dreaming about the guy.”

Bones’ eyes grow wide and then the expression changes and he furrows his brow with a sudden concern for his best friend. Jim is in a worse place than he originally thought, mentally, emotionally. Had to be. It’s the only explanation for this kind of behavior, Bones thinks. He leans in and lowers his voice when he asks, “You dreamt about him?”

Jim shifts in his seat, uncomfortable in the plasteel seat. “It wasn’t anything weird,” Jim lies. “It was just… our meeting yesterday.”

Bones narrows his eyes at the man in front of him, not quite believing Jim who is acting rather sheepishly, as if trying to suppress some untold emotion. “Don’t lie to me, Jim.”

“No, really!” Jim protests. “It was our session yesterday. We took lunch break and I ran into Finnegan at Tony’s. He split my lip open again and I came back with a napkin on it. In real life, we just sat down and began working again. In my dream…”

Bones raises an eyebrow at him to continue. Jim is reminded of the way Spock raises his eyebrow when inquiring him to elaborate on some point, as he’s done maybe twenty times in their past four sessions. Jim sighs, realizing he’s not gonna be able to keep this from Bones.

“In my dream, he kissed me. I don’t know what else to say.”

Exasperated, Bones asks loudly, “How did you get from Point A to Point B, Jim?”

“I don’t know!” Jim throws up his hands. “He just came over to where I was sitting and got all up in my face, asking me who hurt me, and then he just… did.” He sighs. “It doesn’t mean anything. The brain is weird. Dreams are weird.”

Bones’ face softens, seeing just how affected Jim is by this dream. Despite his feelings on the Vulcan, he cares deeply about Jim. Bones decides to lighten the mood and smirks, “Ya know. Sigmund Freud thought that dreams were a kind of wish fulfillment. That they showed your deepest subconscious desires.”

“Oh, yeah? What else did Freud think?”

When Bones doesn’t respond, Jim laughs.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

✧

Class the next day was surprisingly normal. Kirk attends as usual, and Commander Spock teaches the class as usual. And as usual, Kirk does not pay attention. Instead, he focuses intently on the antique video game on his PADD, something called “Flappy Bird.” He’s close to beating his high score when the bell rings and he loses his focus. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. While putting his PADD back into his bag, Commander Spock approaches him quietly, startling him.

“Cadet Kirk,” Spock says. “I will have to cancel our appointment for tomorrow.”

Kirk raises his eyebrows in mild surprise, “Is something wrong?”

He worries that maybe he said something last session on Monday, and hopes he didn’t make things awkward between them via some Vulcan faux pas that he didn’t know about. And then he remembers the dream, involuntarily causing color to rise to his cheeks. Fortunately, Spock doesn’t notice or willfully ignores it.

“No, I have a prior engagement.”

Kirk lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh, okay. When did you want to work on the project next, then?”

“How about Friday?”

Ah. That’s when he was gonna drink with Bones, and he doubts the doctor has time in his busy schedule to suddenly arrange a change in it. Spock notices the hesitation in Kirk and raises an eyebrow.

“If you are unable to work on the—”

Kirk cuts him off, “No, no. It’s fine. I can do Friday.”

The words are out of his mouth before he realizes he says them. He just blew off drinking with Bones to work with Spock. What was wrong with him? He wants to do more work and less drinking? Commander Spock straightens his posture and lowers his eyebrows, as if releasing tension. Could Spock even get tense? Kirk thought for a moment that perhaps Spock was actually looking forward to their working together, and was disappointed when Kirk hesitated. But disappointment is a human emotion. Kirk brushes the thought aside, and after confirming their usual time on Friday, they leave the classroom and go different directions.

✧

Thursday is uneventful, since Kirk doesn’t have his usual meeting with Spock and he finds himself at a loss when Bones turns out to have other plans for the day. Plans, that he complains, include physical exams from 3rd-year medical students and experiments on tribbles. He can’t leave campus without permission and it’s been so long since he was allowed to brawl at a bar. He considers scoping out the library for potential companions but decides against it when he realizes that he will probably be more of a nuisance than an attraction to anyone there on a Thursday afternoon. Reluctantly, he decides to go to the campus café and sit down for a coffee, maybe hit on the barista, see when she’s off. Or when he’s off? It was a guy last time he went. Last time he went… and got tea for Spock.

Spock. Spock’s lips against his, his hot breath, his warm fingers… Kirk feels his heart race and his face turning bright pink, and pushes the feeling down. God damn it. He wonders how he is going to manage working with Spock when he’s like this. To Kirk’s annoyance, Spock was undeniably attractive: tall and lean, but still strong and muscular, the figure of a dancer. The sharp angles of his face, eyebrows, and ears, adding a somewhat exotic quality to his otherwise humanoid figure. He’s intelligent, a programmer like Kirk, and has a demanding presence that hushes anyone who attempts to stand up to him. Being attracted to Spock was logical, Kirk told himself. Anyone would be.

He breathes out to calm his nerves, slips on his leather jacket, tousles his hair, and heads out towards the café. He needs to get under someone else to get over Spock. This is the only thing Kirk is actually sure of, the only thing that he actually needs. He was going to hit on the barista, go back to their place (if on campus), have a few drinks, get laid, and come home in the morning in time for classes. A foolproof plan.

Kirk steps into the café, out of the cold autumn air outside, and is immediately greeted by the bitter scent of freshly ground coffee beans. The atmosphere in the café is quiet and cozy, a holo-fireplace crackling, and very few students actually seated in the café itself. Kirk looks around and notices the girl from the bar where he first met Captain Pike. Uhura, was it? No-first-name Uhura, Kirk remembers confidently. Maybe he can get it out of her now.

“Hey, there. Busy?” Kirk asks. Uhura is sitting by the window on the right side of the café at a small table with only two chairs, PADD in hand, sipping coffee from a mug. She is obviously busy. She looks up from her work to see who is bothering her and rolls her eyes.

“Kirk. What do you want?” she asks.

“Just wondering if you have any friends. Any single lady friends. Or guy friends. I’m not picky,” he tacks on at the end. “But you will have to warn them it’s been a while.”

Uhura groans loudly in an attempt to cut him off, “I’ve got no friends. Leave.”

“I’m not buying it,” Kirk narrows his eyes. “I think you’ve got friends. What about the Xenolinguistics Club?”

Uhura thinks for a moment, wondering just how she can fuck with Kirk, then begins to grin. “Well. There’s Commander Spock.”

Kirk is immediately taken aback and cannot resist the pink that comes to his cheeks and ears. Fuckfuckfuck. Now Uhura’s gonna know. And Uhura cannot know. Kirk has zero interest in Spock, sexual, romantic, or otherwise. That’s what he tells himself when Uhura’s eyes start to widen and she gasps loud enough to alert the entire café to their conversation . Kirk hushes her quickly and looks around the café to see if anyone is listening in. Satisfied that no one is, he leans in and whispers, “I am not interested in Commander Spock.”

Uhura grins and smugly echoes his words from earlier, “I’m not buying it.”

“I can explain.” Kirk puts his head in his hands and Uhura waits for him to continue. He can explain his strange reaction to mentioning Commander Spock? This, she had to hear. Kirk continues, “I’m working on a simulation with him, for Programming. We’ve been meeting to work on it every other day.”

Uhura sips her coffee, eyes trained on Kirk while he speaks. Her work is completely forgotten now, PADD still glowing a cool blue in the otherwise warm café. Kirk pauses, unsure of how much he should say. He definitely didn’t want to tell Uhura the finer details that he relayed to Bones yesterday, that much he was certain of. Uhura notices that Kirk has stopped speaking and urges him to continue, “Go on.”

Kirk sighs and looks out the window to his right, watching the cadets pass by in a sea of red. “I’m really not. But seeing him so much… It’s starting to affect my dreams. And I’m on academic probation so I can’t just go to the bar and get this out of my system,” He looks up at Uhura, meeting her gaze and widens his blue eyes as he begs. “So, please. Tell me you have friends.”

Kirk is practically begging, pouting, like a puppy. Uhura rolls her eyes and sets down her mug with a clink. She joins Kirk at looking out the window to her left and thinks. There’s a reason she suggested Commander Spock. She’s had her eye on him for some time, but after being rejected, she began to suspect that maybe women were not his type. She was surprised to hear that the commander is willingly spending every other day with this blue-eyed, blond asshole. Maybe there was something there. She just has to convince Kirk.

“You know, Spock is a nice guy,” Uhura says.

“I don’t need a nice guy,” Kirk replies. “That’s not my type, not who I am.”

She looks down into her mug. “No, I suppose not,” Uhura replies almost too low to hear. She picks up her PADD and continues working. Kirk is still sitting across from her and she ignores him, hoping that he goes away.

But Kirk isn’t quite done, yet. He looks over at the barista, a male Orion with black hair. He’s not too bad. But that hair… It’s too similar to Spock’s. He rethinks his plan and looks back at Uhura, still busy with reading whatever is on her PADD, and pretending he doesn’t exist. Why did Uhura mention Spock? Are they friends? No matter how much time he spends with the guy, Kirk feels like he never gets any closer to knowing him. He never talks about himself, and Kirk finds himself curious.

He takes a deep breath and then breaks the silence, “What do you know about Spock?”

Uhura is startled out of her reading and cautiously looks up over her PADD at Kirk. She smiles and replies, “What do you wanna know?”

Kirk shrugs. “I’m seeing him tomorrow. To work on the simulation.”

It wasn’t really an answer. Uhura looks Kirk over, not really sure what she’s even looking for. She decides he probably doesn’t even know the basics. “His dad is the Ambassador to Earth. Apparently he married a human woman, but they raised Spock as a Vulcan. He plays chess. He’s fluent in Vulcan.”

“So, wait. Are you saying he’s half-human?”

“It’s apparently obvious to other Vulcans, but I don’t see it.”

Kirk thinks about this for a minute and then decides he can’t do anything with this information. “Okay, what else?”

“I think he likes cats?”

Kirk sighs. Obviously Spock doesn’t talk about himself much to Uhura either. All the other information seems like stuff he could’ve gathered himself from looking stuff up. His dad is a public figure, he’s probably in the chess club, and given that he was raised on Vulcan and in the Xenolinguistics club… Well, obviously he’d be fluent in Vulcan. The last factoid that Uhura gave him was likely speculation, not based on anything grounded in reality, given her questioning intonation. Kirk gives up trying to get information about Spock from her.

“Okay. Well, thanks, anyway.”

✧

“But how do you win it?” Kirk asks. He had been avoiding the subject since the last time it came up, on their third day working on the simulation together, but he knew it would have to be addressed again at some point. Kirk is hopeful that he can convince Spock of his way of seeing things, convince him that the Kobayashi Maru should have a way to successfully rescue the crew.

“There is no ‘winning,’ Cadet Kirk. It is not a game,” Spock replies firmly. He remembers the last time they discussed this topic and the way Kirk left the office, shouting obscenities. He also thinks of the games that the cadet plays on his PADD during his class. Obviously Kirk has become confused with regards to the purpose of the simulation.

“Yeah, well, I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” Kirk says. “So, we have to put in a way to do it.”

Spock frowns. “We do not ‘have to’ put in a way to ‘win’ the simulation. There is no way to ‘win’ the simulation. This is final.”

Spock’s voice raises so slightly that it might be missed, but Kirk feels like he’s getting somewhere. He keeps the pressure on him, shouting, “Well, I think that’s stupid! There should be a way to win it, even if it’s difficult to do. That is what’s going to teach people to be good captains!”

“You are incorrect, Kirk,” Spock says, not even bothering to address him as cadet. Kirk is starting to get on his nerves, clearly. His voice remains calm as he says, “The purpose of the simulation is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death, to accept that fear, and maintain control of one’s self and one’s crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Kirk’s voice is hoarse from shouting and his entire face is red with anger. They are both standing now, Spock behind his desk, and Kirk in front of it. His Friday didn’t start like this. It started normally, attending classes until his meeting with Commander Spock. Working on the simulation, Kobayashi Maru, fixing the bugs and coding the finishing touches. He even grabbed a tea on his way to Spock’s office, remembering how the Commander drank the last one he got for him. How did this turn into a shouting match?

“Cadet Kirk, if you do not calm down I will be forced to—”

The illogical human shouting across from him can be heard from down the hall, Spock is sure of it. The tips of his pointed ears are turning green and he feels heat rising in his face. He pushes it down, maintaining control of his emotions, while Kirk shows no similar restraint.

“No, fuck you! Your simulation is impossible!”

“It is supposed to be,” Spock replies firmly, trying not to let irritation intrude in his voice. He intends to end this argument as soon as possible, whether by force or by diplomacy, it does not matter. The cadet has to see reason, and Spock will make him see it, if he has to. “A captain must be ready to face death. I expected you of all people to understand this.”

Silence falls in the office. Neither of them speak.

“I of all people? What is that supposed to mean?” Kirk asks, glaring at Spock. He should’ve gone drinking with Bones. This was a mistake. Kirk watches as the commander clutches his hands behind his back, and Kirk waits for him to say something, blue eyes daring Commander Spock.

“Your father. Lieutenant George Kirk. He assumed control of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?” Spock has a feeling this might be the wrong thing to say at the present moment, but the cadet’s question demanded an answer. He is hoping that Cadet Kirk will see his line of reasoning, the importance of such a lesson being taught to potential captains.

Instead, Kirk grimaces in frustration, lowering his voice, his face fully red, and says, “You’re not listening to me, if you just would listen—”

Cadet Kirk clearly did not wish to see reason. Spock cuts him off, “Cadet Kirk, this session is over. Leave my office immediately.”

Spock’s voice is level and calm as always, but his face is tinted green with anger. Kirk shakes his head in resignation, grabs his bag and jacket, and leaves Spock’s office. If he could slam those stupid, sliding doors, Kirk would have. Instead, Kirk stomps his feet as loudly as possible, alerting everyone in a mile radius to his presence. Spock watches the cadet as he leaves, and notes that Kirk has left his coffee on his desk.

Kirk goes back to his dorm and pulls a chair up to his console. He opens his copy of the program and creates a subroutine that would allow him to take out the shields of the Klingon vessels and disable their weapons, making them sitting ducks. On the day that he takes the test, he is going to hack it and install his subroutine. Kirk is fuming with anger the entire time he codes it, and by the time he is done, he is feeling satisfied. He saves the code and turns off his console, looking at the time. It’s already 0200, and the lack of sleep is catching up to him. Feeling better about himself and the whole situation, Kirk falls asleep within minutes.

Chapter Text

Spock finishes the Kobayashi Maru on his own, getting all the bugs out and testing the simulation to ensure it is running properly. He looks over his desk at the chair reserved for students and other visitors to his office while he works, and feels an unfamiliar emotion surface. Kirk had not returned after their argument over the simulation, even though the last time it happened, the cadet showed up with an apology. Spock finds himself wondering about Cadet Kirk despite himself, and even more strangely, wondering if he was right about the simulation.

When he is finished the simulation, Spock waits before finalizing it. There is something he has to do first. He has to consider all possibilities. Spock walks down a familiar hallway, approaches a familiar door, pauses for only the briefest of moments, and then knocks a customary three times and waits.

“Come in,” a familiar voice answers.

The door slides open and Spock finds Admiral Pike sitting at his desk, hands folded in front of him, and smiling at Spock upon seeing him. Spock looks at the man who used to be his captain, shocking gray hair and twinkling blue-green eyes that wrinkle the skin when he smiles, and feels a fondness for the admiral. Spock closes the door and walks over to Pike’s desk where the man is waiting patiently for Spock to announce what he’s doing in his office. He doesn’t have to ask, he knows that Spock will tell him.

“I have finished the simulation of the Kobayashi Maru.”

“That’s great, Spock,” Pike’s voice is light and implies something Spock is not certain of. “So, why are you telling me?”

Spock tenses and tightens his lips. “Admiral, it is my honor and privilege to serve Starfleet—”

Pike cuts him off, “Yes, I know. Get to the point, Commander.”

Despite the interruption, Pike is not irritated; rather, his eyes show a hint of amusement that confuses Spock. He fails to see how any of this is amusing.

“I had been working on the simulation with Cadet James Kirk,” Spock begins. Before he can continue, Pike’s eyes light up at the name, giving Spock pause. “You are familiar?”

“Of course. I served with his father. I recruited him to Starfleet,” the admiral explains with a hint of pride in his voice. “How did you come to be working together?”

“I believe the cadet was rather unimpressed with the course material I was presenting. I offered him the opportunity to work on the simulation as a substitution for the course material.”

Pike stifles a chuckle. He thinks to himself, yeah, that sounds about right. The little shit was academically outstanding despite his tendency to engage in drunken brawls. Pike was hoping that Kirk would direct his energy somewhere more positive while on academic probation, and in helping Spock with the simulation it seems like he did. Pike notices that Spock has ceased talking and Pike looks at him, gesturing him to continue.

Spock slightly frowns and furrows his brow; so slightly that it might have been missed by someone unfamiliar with the Vulcan. Admiral Pike, however, knows Spock very well and picks up on it right away. A wave of anxiety washes over Pike. He suddenly has a bad feeling about the collaboration between Kirk and Spock.

“Cadet Kirk had a difference of opinion on the simulation and discontinued our collaboration very suddenly,” Spock continues. Pike reads between the lines. “He disagreed about whether or not the goal of the mission should be feasible.”

Pike is not surprised and yet raises his eyebrows. Yep, that sounds like Kirk, alright. He thinks for a moment about Lieutenant George Kirk, and the feasibility of his mission. Jim Kirk was always in denial, always unwilling to accept that there had been no other choice. He understood why he felt this way, certainly, but it was still something that Jim needed to accept. Pike’s eyebrows lower and he turns in his chair, away from Spock. He looks at a spot on his desk while he thinks, then turns back to the commander.

“And what do you think, Spock?” Pike asks, watching him very deliberately.

“I must admit, I find myself wondering the merits of Cadet Kirk’s suggestion.”

Now, that was surprising. Only a few weeks had passed since the academic probation began, and they likely had been working together for even less time. How had James T. Kirk rubbed off on Spock in such a way? In such a short amount of time? Pike fails to contain his surprise and Spock raises an eyebrow, waiting for the admiral to explain. Pike knows that whatever he says next is going to be taken to heart by Spock, so he has to choose his words carefully.

“Are you aware that Lieutenant George Kirk is Cadet Kirk’s father?” Pike asks.

Spock was aware. He recalls the disagreement that the two had during their last session, and the way it abruptly ended. He recalls the way the argument came to a sudden halt, a deadly silence filling the air between the two of them. He recalls the look in Kirk’s eyes when Spock mentioned his father. Before this line of thinking can continue, Pike begins speaking again.

“Cadet Kirk needs to understand that sometimes there are very few choices a captain can make. That sometimes,” Pike pauses. “Sometimes, a captain needs to accept casualties.”

Spock looks away from Pike’s intense gaze, and down at his standard issue boots. Spock had been correct, then. Cadet Kirk was unwilling to accept that Lieutenant Kirk, as acting captain, made a choice that intentionally resulted in his death. Kirk refused to accept that there was no other recourse, and thus took issue with the Kobayashi Maru simulation. Spock determines his initial judgment of the simulation was in line with Admiral Pike’s vision for it, and so decides to keep the Kobayashi Maru a no-win scenario.

✧

Kirk drinks with Bones in his dorm, focuses on his studies, and otherwise tries to forget about Commander Spock and the simulation. He originally considers not attending his classes, but thinks better of it when faced with the possibility of flunking. He does not acknowledge Spock’s presence, and Spock does not acknowledge his. Kirk thinks this is a good sign, since Spock hasn’t warned him about turning in assignments. He did work on the simulation, after all, and it seems Spock was keeping his word about passing him for it.

Kirk had no reason to go to the campus building for anything other than classes now, so it limited the frequency of seeing Spock. Kirk’s grateful for this, because anytime he would see the commander, he would feel a pang in his chest that he couldn’t explain. He considers asking him how the simulation is going, but before he musters the courage to do it, he’s hearing about the Kobayashi Maru test other cadets have taken. Spock must’ve finished the simulation without him, and for some reason Kirk is saddened by the idea of it. He feels the pang in his chest that he normally gets whenever he sees Spock, and brushes it off.

A month and a half into Kirk’s academic probation, his Advanced Tactical class announces that they will be taking the Kobayashi Maru test. The instructor explains that the test is not graded in the same way as other tests, and while he is speaking, Kirk’s mind wanders. He already knows what the test entails. He recalls working with Spock on the simulation, the way the two of them coordinated to program different aspects of the simulation and then combine them together. It felt good, it felt right. The way Kirk would come in, coffee and tea in his hands, putting his bag, jacket, and PADD in their usual places, grinning widely at the impassive face in front of him. And then he recalls the way he shouted at Spock during their last session, about a month ago. Kirk frowns and furrows his brow while looking down at his desk and the PADD in front of him.

There was no way to win the Kobayashi Maru test. Any attempts to rescue the passengers would be thwarted by the Klingon vessels in the Neutral Zone. He was supposed to let them die. Or worse, destroy the starship to prevent the Klingons from getting their hands on classified military tech. Would he be graded on whether or not he fired on the Klingon warships? Would he be graded on whether or not he tried to hail the Klingons, or the Kobayashi Maru? It didn’t matter. Kirk’s knowledge of the simulation’s code allowed him to program a subroutine that would allow him to win anyway.

The bell rings and class is dismissed. Kirk puts his PADD away more slowly than usual, and when the instructor approaches him, Kirk begins to regret dawdling.

“Cadet Kirk, Admiral Pike would like to see you in his office.”

Kirk sighs. He’s not even sure what he did this time. He slings his bag over his shoulder and walks towards Pike’s office, looking at the floor the entire way. He knocks on the office door and it slides open. Kirk finds Admiral Pike sitting at his desk, looking over several PADDs sure to contain high-level security information. Pike looks up at Kirk and motions for him to enter and sit in the chair across from him.

“You wanted to see me, Admiral?”

Pike notices that Kirk is looking downcast, and that his voice does not exhibit his usual cheerfulness. Any other day, Pike is certain, Kirk would have greeted him in a very different manner. Reflexively, he frowns at the cadet sitting in front of him, but then smiles in an attempt to control the tone of conversation.

“Cadet Kirk. How is academic probation treating you?” Pike asks, smiling softly.

“It’s fine. I’m studying.”

Kirk does not go into any further detail, causing Pike some concern. He drops the fake smile, since Kirk does not seem particularly receptive to it at the moment. He studies Kirk, who he notes is avoiding eye contact, and bouncing his leg impatiently. Kirk would rather be anywhere than here. Pike decides to get straight to the point.

“Commander Spock tells me you assisted him on the Kobayashi Maru.”

Kirk’s leg stops bouncing and his shoulders tense. The sudden shift in the atmosphere is palpable, but Kirk does not respond to Pike’s non-question. Silence hangs in the air uncomfortably, and Pike is forced to continue the conversation himself. The admiral wanted to hear about what happened from Kirk himself, but it seems that Pike wasn’t going to get anything out of Kirk without a little push.

“He tells me that you stopped assisting him on the Kobayashi Maru, as well.”

“Why did he tell you that?” Kirk’s voice is low and raspy. It reminds Pike of the Kirk from the bar where he recruited him: somehow cocky and sad at the same time.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Pike says. “He was worried that you were right.”

Kirk’s heart flutters and he looks at Pike, eyes wide. He asks in disbelief, “Spock was worried?”

Pike gives him a small smile. “He would never admit to it. I think he would call it… ‘consideration of all possibilities.’ I’ve never known him to second-guess himself and I was wondering what you did to him.”

Kirk continues to look at Pike, who is sitting in his chair and smiling at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply. But Kirk is baffled. He isn’t sure what to say to that. He gapes at the admiral, and shakes his head. The memory of their last session was still fresh in Kirk’s mind despite the weeks that passed since. Remembering the argument and the way Spock talked about his father brings Kirk’s rage and frustration back in full force.

“I stopped working with him because he refused to listen to me!” Kirk says loudly and flinches at the volume of his own voice. He surprised himself at his sudden outburst of emotion. It was unexpected, and Kirk exhales to regain control of himself.

Pike feels a wave of satisfaction from the success of his “push.” He continues smiling gently at Kirk, and motions for him to continue.

“I told him that it shouldn’t be impossible. That a good captain should be able to figure out a way to do it. That that should be the test.” Kirk pauses and makes eye contact with Pike. “He didn’t agree and wouldn’t listen to my reasoning. And then he has the balls—” 

Kirk can feel his anger rising; fists clenching, ears reddening. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in and out, releasing the tension in his body.

“He mentioned your father,” Pike states and Kirk opens his eyes to look at him. “Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, was a brave man who understood that sometimes sacrifices need to be made.”

Kirk rolls his eyes. He’s heard this one before. He rubs his eyes and realizes just how tired he actually is.

“Admiral,” Kirk says calmly, “did you drag me into your office to tell me Spock was right? Because I don’t need this right now.”

“What do you need right now?” Pike asks.

“A drink.”

✧

Jim downs a shot of bourbon, and Bones sighs as he refills the shot glass for the third time. Bones looks at his friend, the way his hair has been neglected, a five-o-clock shadow beginning to arrive on his face, and remembers the way he had been after his divorce. It was not a good look for Jim, he thinks, and wonders if he looked like this back then. Bones feels compelled to say something, comforting or wise, but is unable to find the words.

“What the fuck do they know?” Jim asks quietly, not really directed at anyone in particular. “They’ve never had to sacrifice anybody, anything.”

Bones watches Jim down the shot, and instead of pouring him another, decides that he needs to say something, anything.

“You’re a mess, Jim.”

Jim looks up at his friend, head supported by his right hand, not caring about the way it pushes his face and mouth into a bored-looking frown. He feels a wave of affection and fondness for Bones at his words. It would have sounded like an insult coming from anyone else, but knowing Bones, Jim understands that this is how he shows concern for him. 

Looking to alleviate his friend’s anxiety, Jim slurs, “I’m alright, Bones. It’s just this stupid fucking Vulcan.”

Jim smiles at his drinking buddy, hoping that it helps, but Bones just sighs.

“I warned you about him.”

“You did,” Kirk grins.

Bones looks at Jim, not fully believing his sudden shift in mood. Jim’s just trying to make him feel better, he thinks. He watches Jim as he pours another shot into his glass, accidentally splashing the table with a small amount.

“I thought you were sweet on him,” Bones says jokingly.

Jim lets out a huff of air, barely a chuckle but more genuine than a scoff. He takes his shot glass in his hand and drinks it in one swift motion before responding to Bones.

“Yeah, well, it turns out he’s an asshole.”

Jim thinks about his conversation with Pike from earlier that day. He said Spock was worried. Second-guessing himself. He probably went to Pike for validation, and that bastard gave it to him. Now, Spock was never going to consider Jim’s point-of-view, even if he showed up and beat his stupid test. Admiral Pike made sure of that.

“You might wanna take it slow, there. That’s my bourbon you’re drinking.”

This time, Jim laughs. “Thanks, Bones. I needed this.” He lays gentle eyes on his concerned friend. “I really did. I can’t stand hearing how my father was such a hero, you know that.”

Bones nods. “You’ll do fine on the test.”

Jim smiles at him, thinking that Bones was worried about the wrong thing. Jim has no concerns about the test. He has a plan. He’s worried about what Spock is going to think of him afterwards. For some reason, Jim wants Spock to understand. He wants him to see it his way, the Human way. Uhura mentioned that Spock was half-human, didn’t she? Maybe Jim could make Spock see reason. He imagines Spock coming up to him after the test and telling him he was right. He imagines the way Spock feels when Jim wraps his arms around him, accepting his apology, the commander’s body hot against his chest. He imagines… 

Oh, no. He’s drunk. He starts to count on his fingers. Bones regards him with a wild level of concern as he does, furrowing his brow.

“Jim,” Bones says, “what are you doing?”

“Counting how many shots I’ve had.”

Bones narrows his eyes. “Four.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Jim slurs, and reaches for the bottle. Bones slaps his hand away.

“I’m cutting you off.”

✧

“How the hell did that kid beat your test?” Admiral Pike asks Commander Spock.

“I do not know.”

After the Kobayashi Maru, Kirk is looking to leave as quickly as possible, keeping his head down and ignoring everyone he passes. He is stopped when he runs into a wall. No, not a wall. A Vulcan. He studies the black boots and pants the commander is wearing. Kirk knows there’s only one way out of this, and it is through. He puts on a wide grin and looks up at Spock’s face. 

“Sorry about that! Didn’t see you there,” Kirk says cheerfully, then steps around the Vulcan, quickly rushing to get out of there.

Spock grabs Kirk’s upper arm, being mindful of his strength, and stopping the cadet in his tracks. Kirk’s pulse quickens and he feels a flash of sweat on his neck and back. Spock was touching him. Back when the two worked together, they ensured a safe a physical distance between them at all times after Spock taught Kirk about the touch telepathy of Vulcans. Kirk feels the hot hand through his uniform shirt, gripped firmly around his bicep, as he begins to be dragged in the opposite direction.

“Come to my office.”

There was a hint of emotion in the commander’s voice, but Kirk couldn’t put a finger on it. Anger? Anxiety starts to swell within him. He’s going to be reprimanded for this, Kirk thinks. He turns on his heel and the commander releases his grip. Kirk watches Spock’s back as he follows him silently to his office. Spock inputs the code for the door and it slides open. Spock enters first and Kirk follows after him. He watches as Spock walks to his chair and sits down. Kirk moves over to the chair in front of the desk but does not sit.

Spock glares at Kirk with hot intensity, and Kirk shudders under his gaze. He’s never seen a Vulcan with so much emotion in his eyes before (Human eyes, Kirk thinks), and Kirk is certain that the emotion is anger. They stare at each other in silence, daring the other to speak first. After what seems like an eternity, it is Spock who breaks the silence.

“Cadet Kirk. You will tell me what you did to my simulation immediately,” Spock’s voice is dark and low, and it makes the hair on Kirk’s arms stand on end. 

Kirk allows a minute for Spock’s words to sink in, and when they do, heat rises in his cheeks. His fists clench, his muscles tighten, and his shoulders grow rigid. He can feel himself shaking, but prevents his voice from trembling.

Kirk shouts, “‘Your simulation’? I spent hours of my free time working on that stupid test! And for what? To be shut down and told I’m wrong because I have a dead dad?”

Spock stares at Kirk silently, his face unchanging, but his eyes somewhat less intense than before. Before Spock can say anything, Kirk is shouting again, hands flailing as he does.

“Did you know Pike called me into his fucking office? You actually started to think for yourself, and you ran to your mommy.”

“I resent the notion that Admiral Pike—” 

“I’m not finished.”

Spock stops and studies the cadet in front of him. Kirk’s face is completely flushed and his breathing heavy, causing his shoulders to rise and fall in rapid succession. His clenched fists are trembling, as if Kirk wants to punch something. Or someone. Spock considers the need to deescalate the situation before a physical altercation occurs, something he knows Kirk is apt to partake in. Before he is able to begin the process of deescalating, Kirk continues.

“You actually started to think about what I said, and you ran to Pike so he could tell you that you were right all along! And he actually fucking did. He told you that I was being overly emotional, as if I haven’t thought about my father’s death and what it meant every night of my fucking life.” Kirk’s chest heaves when he pauses. “Why should I even bother telling you anything? You clearly won’t listen. You didn’t listen to me three weeks ago, and you won’t listen to me now,” Kirk angrily throws his hands up in the air, spinning around and looking at the door. His breathing slows down but there is a shudder every time he exhales. His body remains tense. Spock watches him for a minute, allowing silence to settle in the room as he does.

Spock is unsure of how to proceed. He was going to deescalate but it seems Kirk has tired himself out. He was going to demand that Kirk explain what he did to the simulation, but Kirk shut that down, too. Spock conceded that Kirk was correct about his motivation in seeking Admiral Pike’s counsel. He had grown uncertain of his handling of things with Cadet Kirk. The way the cadet stormed out of his office their last session remained with him while he worked on finishing the test, brought on by the sight of the empty chair while he worked; the sight of the cadet in his classroom, unwilling to meet his eyes, and leaving only seconds before the bell rings, as if eager to get out of his presence… It had concerned Spock, even though he knew it was illogical to be worried about something he could easily verify himself. It was his reluctance to speak with Kirk that contributed to this feeling. A reluctance that was just as illogical as the concern itself. 

“Cadet,” Spock begins before he is even sure how he is going to end the sentence. He does not know the correct and logical thing to say. He is unsure of what Cadet Kirk even wants out of this exchange.

Kirk is still staring at the office door, away from Spock, when he realizes that Spock has yet to finish his sentence. Kirk relaxes his muscles and exhales deeply, closing his eyes before realizing that he had gotten teary while shouting. When his eyes close, the tears cascade down his cheeks and he wipes them away with the sleeve of his red uniform. He sniffs and turns around to face Spock and is surprised to find the Vulcan’s face has softened. There was no longer any trace of the anger that dragged him into this office.

Spock observes the red eyes and wet cheeks and feels a wave of guilt pass through him. He acknowledges the emotion, controls it, and decides to meditate on it later. Kirk licks his lips and clears his throat. The cadet requires hydration, Spock determines, and considers offering water. Spock stops himself, however, realizing that clearing one’s throat typically means that one is about to speak. 

When Kirk does speak, he is quiet and his voice is raspier than usual. He looks up at Spock under his eyelashes and asks, “Will you listen to me?”

Spock abruptly understands the unfamiliar emotions he had been feeling while finishing the simulation. Spock was fond of Cadet Kirk. He had grown comfortable with the cadet’s presence, and as a result, felt his absence acutely. He considers the human male known as James Kirk: his carefree attitude towards life, the lack of emotional control, the things that made him the very antithesis to Vulcan philosophy. And yet, Spock found himself fascinated. There was something in the way James Kirk acted around Spock; not afraid or deferential, genuine, and willing to challenge him in ways that others refused to. He remembers the tea that Kirk would bring him every session since their first disagreement. Will you listen to me? That was all Kirk was asking of him. He could give him that much.

“Of course.”

Aside from feeling as if he owes Kirk this, he has also been wondering about Kirk’s reasoning since approximately 1.72 days after their disagreement. Part of the reason he went to Admiral Pike was for insight into the matter. Spock folds his hands in front of himself and waits for Kirk to continue. Kirk hesitates, then pulls out the chair and cautiously sits down. He stares at a corner of the desk, avoiding eye contact with Spock, and inhales sharply.

“I programmed a subroutine that disabled the Klingon warships at a specific section of the test. I hacked the simulation and inserted it the day before,” Kirk is still refusing to meet Spock’s eyes. “I wasn’t trying to cheat. I changed the rules of the test as a demonstration of my principles; a demonstration of what kind of captain I would be. I wanted to show you that… that if there were no other options, I would create them.”

“You do not believe in no-win scenarios,” Spock states in response.

“Right,” Kirk replies quietly. “So, that—”

“I am not finished.”

Kirk’s eyes widen and he looks up at Spock in surprise. The commander just cut him off. Kirk is unable to read the expression on Spock’s face. Is he angry with him? Disappointed? Kirk reminds himself that Vulcans do not have feelings in the same way humans do, and that attempting to determine what emotion Spock may be feeling would just be a projection of his own anxieties. Brushing the thought aside, Kirk anxiously waits for Spock to continue.

“You do not believe in no-win scenarios, so you changed the scenario in order to win. You think this demonstrates the creative thinking necessary to create options where there were previously none. You imply that this demonstrates your potential as a starship captain. Am I correct so far?”

Kirk’s expression has not changed since he was interrupted. He is still staring at Spock with wide eyes, mouth agape. It takes a few seconds for him to process what Spock has said. When it sinks in, Kirk casts his eyes back to the corner of the desk and his face falls. Spock did not agree, then. Spock was going to reprimand him for hacking his test and there is little Kirk can do about it. Would he be suspended? Expelled? He swallows hard and decides to accept his loss with what little dignity he has left.

“Yes, Commander. That’s correct.”

Spock hears the word “commander” come from Kirk’s mouth and feels a sharp but brief pain in his side, just under the right side of his rib cage. He notes that he should see a medical officer when he has time. Focusing on the matter at hand, for some reason Kirk is under the impression that Spock disagrees with him. He is unsure what he said to make Cadet Kirk believe this is the case. 

Attempting to ease the cadet’s anxieties, Spock says, “Your logic is not without merit.”

It works, as Kirk’s eyes brighten and his mouth curls into a wide grin. He knows that Spock’s words are as close to compliment as a Vulcan could get. He looks at Spock, beaming, and Spock feels a surge of heat rising in his body and suppresses it. It was an unusual physiological reaction to Kirk’s emotional response, Spock finds. He increases the priority of seeing a medical officer, endeavoring to do so after their meeting.

“So, I’m not in trouble?” Kirk asks.

“I am not going to seek charges against you, Cadet Kirk,” Spock replies. “However, I cannot prevent other members of faculty from doing so.”

Kirk takes a moment to think about this and the anxiety starts to come back in spades. His breath hitches, his muscles tense, and he feels sweat condensing at his temples. Spock is watching him attentively and notices the shift in Kirk’s demeanor. Spock stands up and Kirk’s eyes follow.

“If the occasion shall arise, I will provide testimony in your defense.”

Kirk gasps softly and his shoulders relax. He stands to look at the commander. Spock was just furious with him moments before, wasn’t he? Kirk looks at the chronometer on the wall of the office and realizes they have been speaking for close to forty minutes. He suddenly feels tired from all the tension and stress, combined with the heat of Spock’s office, and wants nothing more than to crash in his bed.

“Thanks, Spock. I think I need some sleep,” Kirk says drowsily, giving Spock a polite smile.

“Gratitude is illogical. You are dismissed,” Spock replies. Despite the harshness of his words, his voice is gentle and conveys concern. Spock sees the beginnings of a genuine smile creep up on Kirk but the cadet turns and leaves before it fully forms on his face. Spock watches the back of Kirk’s blond head as he leaves, and despite himself, feels an ache of disappointment that he didn’t get to see it.

Chapter Text

Kirk’s heart falls into his stomach. His ears are ringing and Admiral Pike’s voice fades to the background. He couldn’t have heard him right. Right? The admiral’s words were still swirling around in his head, fogging his vision. “You knowingly and purposefully violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation One-Seven Point Three of the Starfleet Code. I have no choice but to hold you accountable.”

Kirk feels a warm hand on his shoulder and turns to face Commander Spock. Just as suddenly as the hand was placed there, it is taken away. Kirk returns to his senses and glances at Admiral Pike, who is waiting for him to respond, hands folded on his desk, and a face more serious than Kirk has ever seen before. Kirk has a sudden urge to apologize for letting Pike down, but with Spock by his side, his conviction returns to him.

Kirk takes a deep breath and says calmly, “Admiral, I believe I did nothing wrong, and I will be defending myself and my actions to the council.”

“I will also be providing my own testimony on his behalf,” Spock adds.

Pike studies Kirk, then glances over at the Vulcan standing in parade rest next to him, practically shoulder to shoulder, then back to Kirk. He sighs, and the next time he speaks, he is addressing Spock.

“I don’t know how he convinced you. I thought you understood my position.”

Spock straightens and replies, “I understand your position, I simply disagree.”

Pike’s eyes narrow at the commander and his brow furrows in confusion. His lips tighten into a flat line, not quite a frown, and he leans back in his chair. He is quiet for a long time, just looking at Kirk and Spock in thought. Kirk is suddenly very aware of how close Spock is standing next to him, the heat emanating off his body. He chances a look at Spock’s face and notices the anger in his eyes. Spock wasn’t even attempting to hide it. Kirk wonders if something is wrong with Spock, concern flooding in and replacing any thoughts he had about the academic charges and Pike. Remembering how Spock had placed his hand on Kirk’s shoulder just moments ago, Kirk decides to return the gesture, placing his hand on Spock’s shoulder and giving it a short squeeze before releasing. Spock’s eyes soften and he looks at Kirk who flashes him a tiny smile. The whole exchange is less than a few seconds, but with Pike’s silence it feels a lot longer.

Pike watches the short exchange between Kirk and Spock, and shakes his head. Ah, of course. The corner of his lip reflexively curls upward as he realizes how Kirk and Spock have taken to each other. Spock has helped rein in Kirk’s impulsive and self-destructive tendencies, and Kirk has helped Spock understand and control his more human tendencies. Pike can’t help but appreciate the balance the two have achieved, the way their traits complement each other. The admiral sighs and shakes his head, baffling Kirk and Spock who are still waiting for him to speak.

“I don’t regret bringing this to the council’s attention, but…” Pike pauses. “Jim, I know you know what I think of your father and his actions. I don’t need to repeat it. But I think I’m beginning to realize something.”

Kirk tilts his head in confusion. “And what would that be, sir?”

“That you are your own man. You are not your father,” Pike continues. “I should have realized sooner, and I apologize if I’ve made you feel inadequate.”

Kirk feels Spock’s eyes on him as Pike speaks, and he desperately wants to continue standing straight and tall, but can feel his confidence dissolving. Kirk’s shoulders fall and he casts his face downwards, unable to keep holding Pike’s gaze. The admiral’s apology means more to Kirk than he lets on; Pike was finally acknowledging what Kirk had been trying to tell him every time he showed up battered and bruised in his office. Kirk is confused; he had been at the academy for almost three years, talked to Pike dozens of times. Every time Kirk would break a law or regulation, Pike had been there to compare him to his father. And suddenly, he was receiving an apology for it. I should have realized sooner, Kirk repeats to himself.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir,” Kirk says, looking up from the floor and recapturing eye contact with Pike. “What made you realize?”

Pike simply grins at Kirk in response.

✧

The day of the tribunal, Cadet Kirk and Commander Spock are waiting for the council members to arrive, and Kirk is pacing anxiously. They are waiting in a white hallway just outside the main chamber, a row of chairs lining the wall next to the door. The chamber hall is not empty, but people are busy with other things and have no reason to be near the two of them. This leaves Kirk with a lot of space to pace in front of the door and chairs while Spock sits and waits patiently. Spock follows Kirk with his eyes, and irritation begins to surface at the edges of his mind. He understands that the cadet is nervous, but wonders if there is perhaps a more productive outlet for Kirk’s anxiety.

“Cadet Kirk, could you please be seated?” Spock asks.

“I can’t sit right now, I’m too high strung,” Kirk does not stop pacing but now looks at Spock as he walks. “I need something to keep my mind off everything.”

Spock is at a loss of what to do with Kirk when the cadet suddenly stops in his tracks. He looks at Spock and grins widely. “Pawn to e4.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. The cadet wanted to play chess without a board? It would not be difficult for Spock to visualize the board in his mind but wondered if the cadet could keep up with him.

“Pawn to c6. Please be seated.”

Kirk sits down in the seat next to Spock, still grinning like a madman. “Pawn to d4.”

Spock is familiar with this opening. He knows the next move from the chess books he read as a child. “Pawn to d5.”

The pawns are now diagonal to each other, ready for the taking. Kirk would obviously not take Spock’s pawn, however, since Spock has another to back it up and could take Jim’s pawn if he were to do so. The most logical next move Kirk could take would be to move his pawn forward to e5.

“Pawn to d5.”

Spock can’t hold back the confusion at Kirk’s illogical move. He looks at Kirk’s face and finds the cadet is still grinning. Spock takes Kirk’s pawn in return, and the cadet moves his bishop to the D-file, behind his remaining pawn. This move was also not in his books. Kirk should have moved his C pawn. For the first time in years, Spock is unsure of how a chess match is going to turn out. What he is sure of is that it will be fascinating.

The Starfleet Academy Council hear Cadet Kirk’s defense and Commander Spock’s testimony, and to the surprise of everyone present, Admiral Pike’s testimony as well. The council unanimously decides to acquit Kirk, and for the first time in days, Kirk feels like he can breathe easy. As they leave the hall, Kirk blinks the sunlight out of his eyes and Spock walks beside him. It feels good. Natural. Like he was meant to walk next to Spock in the sunlight every day of his life.

“Thanks for believing in me, Spock.”

Spock tilts his head towards the cadet curiously. “I was merely performing my duty as a witness in an academic trial.”

Kirk grins at him. “Yeah, I know.”

He understands Spock now. He didn’t at first; Kirk found him confusing, even frustrating at times. But after spending so much time with the Vulcan, he could read him like a book. Spock would never say it, but he had no obligation to defend Kirk back there. He could have simply explained how the Kobayashi Maru had been manipulated without any mention of Kirk’s motivations, but that’s not what he did. Kirk feels a wave of gratitude wash over him as he thinks about Spock defending him in front of the council. And a hint of something else that Kirk is surprised to realize is affection.

He is shocked to realize that he has grown to like Spock, that he enjoys the commander’s company. Kirk’s face falls. Spock will go back to teaching, and Kirk will go back to studying, and they will have no reason to talk to each other. No reason to be in each other’s company. Kirk’s pace slows, and Spock notices. Spock looks at Kirk’s face and finds that the cadet who had been grinning at him just moments before was suddenly terrified. He is unable to intuit the reason, and reluctantly concludes that he must inquire about Kirk’s mental state.

“Cadet Kirk?” Spock asks.

Kirk turns to look at him, masking the fear that was just present and replacing it with a wide, toothy grin. “I’m alright, just thinking about our game.”

Kirk had won their first chess game, and they were doing a rematch when they were called in to the hearing. Spock thinks about Kirk’s response and cannot determine what part of the game would be causing the cadet to fear, but Kirk was obviously unwilling to speak his mind, and Spock was reluctant to push the matter. Regardless, Spock has something he has to talk to Kirk about in private, so he uses the excuse of the chess game.

“Would you like to continue our rematch?” asks Spock.

Light returns to the cadet’s eyes, and the grin becomes genuine. Spock feels his heart flutter in his side, and quickly turns away from the beaming face. Illogically, he is reminded of the sun.

“I would love to,” the cadet replies.

Instead of going to Spock’s office like Kirk expects, he follows the commander to his living quarters. They are minimal, in space and decor, and it seems that Spock does not spend much time here. Kirk looks around curiously anyway while Spock retrieves a chess set and sets it up on his small dining table. Spock places the pieces on the board the way they were when they were interrupted. Kirk is relieved as Spock does because in the commotion of the hearing he completely forgot what the board looked like. When the board is finished being set up, Kirk sits across from him in the only other chair at the table.

“Cadet Kirk,” Spock begins abruptly. “I have a request to make of you.”

Kirk looks up from the board at the commander’s face, but Spock is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“I would like you to assist me with my Computer Programming course as an aide.”

Kirk’s mind blanks. This is not what he was expecting. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting, to be honest. Kirk remembers when Spock told him that it was his first time teaching, and the guilt he experienced at goading him when he was confronted about failing. Right, Kirk thinks. I told him his class sucks ass. Kirk’s cheeks turn bright pink.

“I didn’t mean it when I said your class sucked, you know,” Kirk says sheepishly. “I was just trying to push your buttons, I didn’t—”

“Kirk,” Spock interrupts, “I am aware of what your intentions were at the time.”

The cadet can’t stop the look of surprise on his face, and Spock’s eyes light up in amusement. Kirk swears that the Vulcan smiles without moving his lips.

“How…?”

“If I had believed you were simply writing off my class entirely, I would not have invited you to work with me on the simulation,” explains Spock. “If you were truly good enough to do any assignment I gave you with your ‘eyes closed,’ as you claimed, then your assistance on the Kobayashi Maru would be more than welcome.”

Kirk’s lips part into a large grin, beaming his pearly white teeth at Spock. The sun. Spock suppresses the thought as it comes to him. He examines the chess board while he waits for Kirk to respond to his request to become his teaching aide for Computer Programming, suddenly finding himself unwilling to hold the cadet’s gaze. Unwilling to stare at the sun.

“I will accept on one condition,” Kirk replies. “Call me Jim.”

Spock had heard Admiral Pike call the cadet ‘Jim’ while they were in his office being informed of Kirk’s upcoming trial. He knew that people named James sometimes went by Jim, so he wasn’t entirely surprised, but noted how pleasant it sounded to his ears and filed the information away. Now, the cadet was requesting that Spock call him Jim. What was Admiral Pike to Cadet Kirk? A friend? Did this mean that Kirk considered Spock a friend?

He feels the tips of his pointed ears turn green, and heat rising to his cheeks. He hopes that Jim does not see the physical emotional reaction that he should have suppressed, but the knowing look on Jim’s face dashes the hope immediately.

“I find your terms to be acceptable,” Spock pauses. “Jim.”

The sound of his name leaving Spock’s lips lands on his ears gently, and he shudders. Goosebumps trail up his arms and he is grateful for the long sleeves of his red uniform. Jim had managed to not think about Spock in an intimate way since he got drunk with Bones, but the way that Spock says his name fills his brain with thoughts that are not easily dismissed.

Spock notices Jim’s breath become uneven, sweat forming at his brow, and his cheeks become tinged pink with his red blood. The Vulcan is unsure what emotion these physiological reactions constitute, so he raises an eyebrow, waiting for Jim to explain as he always does. Jim swallows hard and inhales to speak.

“I have to go.”

Both of Spock’s eyebrows rise in bewilderment as he watches Jim get up from the table and turn to leave. Spock glances at the chess board, their rematch game interrupted once again. As if reading his mind, Jim says before leaving, “Sorry, we’ll have to continue our game another time. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” And then he is gone.

Spock feels Jim’s absence acutely and frowns. At least on Wednesday, Jim will be assisting him in class. As the deadline for final assignments approaches, more students had been approaching Spock with questions and concerns, and he is relieved that he will be able to rely on Jim.

✧

Spock watches as Jim bends to look over a cadet’s shoulder at her code, and notes the distance between the two cadets. The female cadet, blonde and beautiful, smiles at Jim as he helps her and Spock brushes off the intrusive thought of Jim returning her affections. Why did Spock care who Jim was romantically or sexually involved with? He and Jim were friends, not lovers. Spock determines that the emotional reaction is definitely illogical and he suppresses it, filing it away for further meditation.

Jim had been assisting in Spock’s class for two Wednesdays now, and attempting not to think about Spock for the rest of the week. And failing. Spock invited him to play chess twice since he abruptly left Spock’s quarters, and Jim had no reason to refuse. So, he went, and he played chess with Spock—who would say that he was definitely not irritated whenever Jim won—and Jim would attempt to be friendly with Spock whenever they saw each other around campus.

The two had reached a comfortable equilibrium, enjoying the other’s company while also not seeing each other more than necessary to maintain their friendship. Chess once a week, class once a week. Seeing each other around campus maybe a few times a week. Jim is appreciative of the distance Spock is giving him, while also desiring more. Jim’s dreams of the Vulcan had not ceased, and they ran the gamut of totally benign and exceedingly inappropriate.

In the classroom, Jim feels Spock’s eyes on him as he assists a young, blonde woman with her code and turns around to see what the commander wants, but when he does, Spock turns away and looks at another cadet’s screen. Curious, Jim thinks, and returns to assisting the young woman who is smiling at him seductively.

“Are you free tonight?” the blonde cadet asks.

Jim knows that Spock can hear her question, and irrationally wonders if he would be upset with him if he said yes. Spock, as far as he knew, had no interest in dating, let alone Jim of all people. He considers saying yes just to see if it makes Spock jealous, and then shakes off the idea. Spock wouldn’t understand the game he was playing, and he’d only risk hurting their relationship further. What relationship, Jim wonders. Regardless, a gut feeling tells him to turn down the cadet.

“Sorry, I’m grounded,” Jim grins apologetically.

The blonde cadet’s face falls and she replies, “Oh.”

Another student asks Jim for assistance and he is overcome with relief to be away from the whole awkward situation. Spock watches him assist another student, and illogically also feels relieved that Jim has been called away from the young woman. He files away the thought to meditate on later, and considers Jim’s response to the cadet. He had implied the circumstances of his academic probation as an excuse to reject her, but wonders if Jim was actually interested in dating the woman. Spock still hasn’t gotten the hang of the way humans politely refuse requests, and decides to inquire Jim about this after class.

The bell rings, and Jim and Spock tidy up the classroom, putting the chairs back in their appropriate places. The comfortable silence is broken when Spock suddenly turns to Jim and says, “If you desire permission to leave campus for dating purposes, I would be able to provide it.”

Jim’s cheeks turn bright pink. So, Spock did overhear the exchange. Jim shakes his head.

“No, I wasn’t interested, anyway.”

Spock nods in understanding. It was a situation of polite refusal after all. Jim turns to walk towards the door a few paces, then turns around and walks back, hand in the air and mouth gaping as if to speak. Jim stops short of Spock and closes his mouth, then opens it again.

“Actually, I would like permission to go to Mixie’s.”

“The night club?” Spock inquires, raising an eyebrow. He remembers why Jim is on academic probation in the first place, glancing over the cheek and lip that have since healed. It was a bar fight, Spock recalls. Perhaps at Mixie’s night club. Spock’s thoughts are interrupted by Jim seemingly reading his mind yet again.

“Not alone. I want you to come with me.”

Spock raises both eyebrows, lowers them, then tilts his head in thought. Jim wants Spock to go to a bar with him? It would enable Spock to prevent Jim from getting in trouble further, he logically thinks. Friends do tend to go on outings together, and Jim considers him a friend. It is entirely logical.

“That would be amenable,” Spock says after a moment of silence. “When should the excursion take place?”

Jim smiles wide and Spock resists the urge to look away, knowing it would appear untoward if he did. But why does he have the urge to turn away from Jim’s face in the first place? For the third time in one day, Spock files an emotion caused by Jim away for further meditation. Involuntarily and despite his best efforts, Spock finds himself saddled by unnecessary feelings whenever Jim is around.

“How about tonight? You’ve got nothing to do tomorrow.”

Spock considers Jim’s proposal, and finds there is no logical reason to object.

“Very well, Jim.”

✧

Spock finds the bar to be loud and crowded, but Jim’s presence is reassuring. He watches the man order two Cardassian Sunrises, a red-orange drink in a tall glass, before pushing one into his hand. He begins to explain that Vulcans metabolize alcohol faster than humans, but Jim’s wide grin stops him before he does. It was explained to Spock once that drinking was often a social affair for humans, so he decides to simply drink the Cardassian Sunrise with Jim without any objections.

They sit down at a booth away from the bar and dance floor where it seems most of the patrons are gathered, away from prying eyes. Jim sips his drink through his straw, so Spock does as well. The flavor of the drink is not unpleasant, the alcohol being masked with the sweetness of strawberries and something alien to his palate but sweet and fruity nonetheless.

“Have you ever been here before?” Jim asks.

“I have not,” Spock replies truthfully. “I doubt I would have reason to otherwise.”

Jim blushes and he’s grateful for the lighting in the bar, dark and purple and pink, obscuring the rush of heat to his cheeks. Spock never would have come here if not for Jim?

“What about for dates? You know…” Jim trails off with a gesture of his hands that Spock is not sure the meaning of.

Spock replies, “I have not been on any dates since I arrived in 2249.”

Jim laughs, and Spock’s ears tingle at the sound. He raises an eyebrow to denote his confusion and to inquire as to the cause of Jim’s laughter. In response, Jim covers his mouth with his hand, but the movement of his shoulders indicate that he is still laughing. Spock says nothing, instead deciding to watch the emotional outburst with curiosity.

Jim uncovers his mouth and says, “Of course. How silly of me.”

This does nothing to help Spock understand the sudden outpouring of emotion, but he lowers his eyebrow regardless. He takes another sip of the red drink in front of himself and Jim watches, elbow on the table, hand resting on his fist. It makes Spock self-conscious to see Jim watching him so intently, a reaction he realizes he has not experienced in the years since his rejection of the Vulcan Science Academy. Spock is certain that the reason for this must be different; Jim did not care that Spock was half-human. Jim’s face is unreadable, and Spock finds himself wondering what Jim is thinking. This was the cause for feeling self-conscious, Spock was sure of it. He decides it is illogical to wonder what others are thinking, and suppresses the emotional reaction.

Jim does not speak and neither does Spock. The silence between them is comfortable and Spock relaxes, realizing that he seldom experiences this kind of comfortable silence with humans. The alcoholic drink warms Spock’s stomach and he is aware that he must be flushed, the drink affecting him more than he expected.

The comfortable silence is broken by a presence out of the corner of Spock’s eye, a man of considerable size approaching their table. When Jim notices the man, he straightens his posture and visibly tenses, and what Spock assumes is fear or anxiety shows on his previously cheerful face. The man stops before their booth and Jim speaks.

“What do you want, Finnegan?” he asks with venom punctuating the man’s name.

“I wanted to see this for myself. Heard you had a date with someone who isn’t my girlfriend.”

The man speaks with an Irish brogue, and punctuates the last two words of his sentence as if accusing Jim. Spock remembers the exchange from their third session. I fucked his girlfriend. If Spock wasn’t flushed before, he is now. Cheeks, ears… Spock is sure every part of exposed skin must be tinted green. He wants to blame the alcoholic beverage he has been nursing, but Spock knows that the reason is the same as the last time he heard the words.

“Look, I said I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was your girlfriend! I swear!” Jim protests. Spock recalls the smirk that accompanied Jim’s confession weeks ago, and he is certain that Jim is lying.

Finnegan grabs Jim by the shirt and pulls him in close to his face. “You know damn well that’s not what she told me.”

Jim pushes Finnegan off of himself and the imposing Irishman lets him go. Finnegan looks at Spock who is sitting there with an eyebrow raised and then back at Jim.

“Your new girlfriend is a Vulcan?” Finnegan teases.

Jim fixes his shirt and exhales sharply. “It’s not a date.”

Spock feels a pang in his side at the words. Of course it is not a date, he knew that. The two were only friends. Then why did he care so much about Jim’s objection to the word? Spock knew, of course. He has known for weeks. He thought being able to identify the source of his feelings would enable him to suppress them easier, but it has been more difficult than he originally deemed.

“Looks like a date to me,” Finnegan counters, a smile creeping onto his face. He stares at Spock, as if daring him to say something. Spock does not understand the meaning of Finnegan’s dare, but understands the antagonism he’s displayed against Jim, and Spock is filled with the desire to defend his friend.

“Cadet Kirk is an aide in my class,” Spock says, hoping that it suffices as evidence to the contrary that the two are on a date, and knowing that it does not.

Finnegan’s eyes light up at Spock’s words and he looks at Jim with renewed vigor. Spock feels that he has said the wrong thing, but is unsure what to make of it. Jim angrily pushes out of the booth seat and stands in front of Finnegan who is now beaming at a furious Jim.

“A teacher? My apologies, Jim Kirk,” Finnegan mocks. “You’ve upgraded from girlfriends to teachers! How could I ever hope to compete with—”

Before Finnegan can finish his taunt, Jim has swung a right hook into the man’s jaw. Finnegan tumbles back a few steps then regains his composure, swinging back at Jim and landing a hit on his mouth. Spock stands up from the booth seating as other patrons move away from the brawl. Jim dodges Finnegan’s next punch and attempts to return it, missing by inches.

Spock moves to to get between the two men and shouts, “Cadets!”

Spock’s voice is dark and loud, and the two men pause, huffing and glaring at each other. Spock’s brown eyes are filled with a fire he rarely allows, directed entirely at the cadet called Finnegan. The Irish cadet shrinks at Spock’s gaze but does not stop shouting abuse at the two. Ignoring him, Spock regains his composure and turns to Jim, asking him quietly, “Can we leave?”

Jim is shocked out of his fury by the gentleness of Spock’s voice, and looks at him. Spock’s expression does not betray any emotion, but Jim is sure he heard something in his voice. Jim nods and they leave, walking past Finnegan who is shouting slurs in three different Federation languages.

Chapter Text

The night air is chilly in the San Francisco winter, and nips at Jim’s nose and ears. His lips sting where Finnegan had managed to land a hit, and he shivers. He can’t imagine how cold it must be to the Vulcan beside him, walking so close to Jim on the sidewalk that he can occasionally feel Spock’s shoulder brush against his own. They’re quiet as they walk to Spock’s living quarters, the decision to go, Jim was not even aware he had made.

The punch from Finnegan had knocked Jim’s lips into his teeth, and the inner part of his lower lip had split open, causing the taste of blood to fill his mouth. It wasn’t as bad as the last time Finnegan had split his lip, mostly because it wasn’t as visible, but also because Jim had been expecting the hit and managed to step out of range of a full blow.

Jim leans away from Spock and spits out a pink wad of saliva into the grass beside the sidewalk, attempting to rid himself of the metallic taste. Spock eyes him nervously, clearly wanting to say something but simply raising an eyebrow instead. Jim silently muses how expressive Spock’s brown eyes are, despite what Jim is sure is Spock’s best efforts to hide it. He doesn’t resist the upturn of his lips at the thought, instead smiling gently at his walking companion as if to reassure him.

Spock’s heart flutters in his side. Spock was concerned with Jim’s well-being after his altercation in the night club, and after watching him spit blood right next to him, he couldn’t stop the eyebrow that raised in quiet worry, hoping that Jim would not take notice. Jim’s smile in response to his upturned brow, however, informed him otherwise. Spock lowers his brow and returns his focus on the walk ahead of them, suppressing an exhale of relief. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt concern for another in this way, other than the time his mother had come down with particularly difficult case of Tarkalean flu when he was seven years old.

Curious, Spock ponders, considering his friendship with the cadet walking next to him. It has been a most unusual period in Spock’s life; keeping the regular company of someone else voluntarily. The last time he had, he was an officer under Pike while he was captain of the Enterprise. That was before the man had become an admiral following the events of Talos IV. Pike… Spock wonders about the connection between Pike and Jim, and contemplates asking the cadet about it, but decides against it when he looks up at Jim and notices him shivering.

Spock’s heart stops as he watches Jim blow warm breath into his hands and rub them together. Although Spock is aware that the temperature is only eight degrees Celsius, he is reminded that humans have lower body temperatures and that Jim may not be acclimatized to the cold in the same way he was.

Jim notices Spock looking at the way he’s trying to warm his hands and asks, “Aren’t you cold? I thought Vulcan was, like, really warm or something.”

“As a desert planet, Vulcan falls below freezing temperatures at night. I am accustomed to the cold as well as the heat.”

Jim laughs gently, and it causes Spock a warming feeling in his ears and abdomen. “Oh, right. That makes sense,” he replies softly, mostly to himself. Jim’s eyes sparkle and his tone becomes more playful as he addresses Spock, “I think I’m more accustomed to tropical beaches, personally.”

“Then, it is a shame that Starfleet Academy is not located on Risa,” Spock returns just as neutrally as any other statement he might’ve made, if not for the spark of amusement in his eyes.

Jim howls with laughter as he realizes that Spock has made a joke. Not a great one, but a joke nonetheless. It fills Jim with a fond appreciation to know that Spock has made any effort towards making him laugh, no matter how small.

“Maybe I was Risian in a past life,” Jim suggests teasingly, knowing that past lives were definitely something a Vulcan would object to.

“I find it unlikely, Jim.”

The two are bantering, Jim is surprised to realize, and he is even more surprised to find that it’s pleasant. He’s enjoying this, the way they so casually slip into a more comfortable atmosphere, at ease around each other. It was a big step up from the way they had been two months ago when they first starting spending time together, working on the simulation. He remembers the way the two were at odds, always distracting themselves with work whenever they had to be in the other’s company. Guilt rises in Jim’s conscience as he recalls the three whole weeks they avoided each other while Spock finished the simulation on his own, and Jim programmed his subroutine, determined to cheat it.

The past couple of weeks has felt like an apology, Jim realizes. Spock’s offer to provide testimony, and then his offer of the aide position in his class… It felt like Spock was apologizing to him , when Jim was certain he was the one who needed to apologize. Maybe that’s why Jim continued to play chess with Spock in his free time, why he invited Spock to drink with him tonight. When the deadline for finals rolls around next week, Jim knows that Spock is going to have very little time to spend playing chess. And when winter holiday begins, it’s going to be next to impossible for them to see each other for any reason at all. Jim frowns as he realizes that they would probably not see each other again until the new year.

Spock notices the shift in atmosphere as the two enter his apartment. He removes his winter coat and hangs it up on the hook next to the door, waiting for Jim to do the same. He notices how Jim’s brow is wrinkled as he frowns, face still flushed pink from the cold. After removing his jacket, Jim rubs his hands together, relishing in the warmth of Spock’s living quarters, and looks at Spock expectantly.

Jim doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He assumed the two were going to play chess or something, but now that he was actually in Spock’s quarters, he’s unsure if he wants to do anything.

“Is something bothering you, Jim?” Spock asks. His voice is gentle, and his concern genuine, Jim notes with fondness. He was going to miss this.

“No, I’m just thinking about the break coming up,” Jim replies. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t enough for Spock to figure out what Jim was actually thinking. “Chess?”

Spock nods, and they set up the three-dimensional chess board they had switched to recently after two-dimensional chess was proving to be a bit too easy. They set the board in silence, and then play their first few moves in silence as well. It was nice, Jim notes, being so close to someone without feeling the need to fill every pause with some snide comment or pick-up line. He was friends with Bones, but the doctor’s busy schedule meant they rarely saw each other outside of social drinking. Everyone else, Jim considered an adversary or a challenge. Jim is suddenly struck by the realization that his relationship with Spock is unique, and feels bumps rise on his arms, hair stand on the back of his neck.

“It is your move, Jim,” Spock’s voice interrupts his thoughts. The sound of his name coming from Spock’s lips has his heart beat even faster, compounding on the sudden realization of just seconds before. What was Spock to him? A friend? Bones was a friend. Spock was… different. Anxiety creeps into Jim’s awareness before he can stop it, blush at his cheeks as he thinks, I have a crush on him.

Jim chastises himself at the thought, so childish and immature. He hasn’t had a crush on anyone since he was a teenager. He didn’t have a relationship to someone like this since he was a teenager, either, Jim recognizes reluctantly. At some point in the past decade, Jim had begun to separate friend and lover, making it impossible for this exact scenario to occur. He isn’t sure when that happened, but now he is acutely aware of it.

Spock is still waiting for Jim to take his move, staring at him patiently and beginning to grow concerned when Jim continues to stare at the board frozen in place. Spock notices that Jim is clenching his fists, breathing heavily, and is flushed pink. He’s reminded of the first time they played chess here, the way Jim abruptly removed himself from his quarters to his bewilderment.

Hoping to avoid a repeat of last time, Spock asks, “Have I done something wrong?”

Jim’s breath catches in his throat and he has to remind himself to breathe. Spock is still waiting for him to make a move, Jim realizes, so he takes his queen and moves it to a spot on the second level. He’s still avoiding Spock’s gaze, so he doesn’t see the way Spock’s eyebrows furrow at his non-answer.

“Jim,” Spock urges, beseeching and sympathetic.

Jim forces himself to look up at Spock and sees the furrow of his brow. He repeats Spock’s question to himself, finally processing the words. His eyes grow wide as he realizes that Spock thinks he has done something to offend him. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Jim says hurriedly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Spock attempts to relax at Jim’s reassurance, but still feels that something is amiss. He returns his attention to the board, pondering his next move for only a second, before looking back up at Jim. Spock knows he isn’t any good at reading humans despite working alongside them for so many years, and being raised by one in his youth. It was not a skill he considered to be important before now, before Jim came into his life and filled him with a sudden desire to be able to. He wants to be able to read Jim, know what he’s thinking, so he can ease his friend’s anxieties—

No, not his friend. Spock has people he considers friends. Admiral Pike, for one. Lieutenant Uhura, for another. People he was comfortable talking with, eating lunch with. But he never had the desire to read their thoughts and to alleviate their anxieties. Spock knows he considers Jim with fondness, but until now believed that fondness to be friendship. He feels heat rise to his cheeks and ears, knowing that he is turning green despite his desire for composure, and finds himself grateful that Jim was focusing on the board.

That is when Spock realizes. Avoiding eye contact, flushing, sweating, increased heart rate, increased breathing rate… Jim is displaying the same symptoms as himself. And likely had been a couple of weeks ago when he abruptly left during their chess match. How could Spock have been so oblivious? So obtuse? He chastises himself for not seeing it earlier, for not making the logical connections that in hindsight seem so obvious. The way Jim turned down the cadet in class and then asked Spock to drink with him instead. The way Jim’s eyes light up whenever Spock invites him to play chess. The way that Jim grins so widely and laughs so freely whenever Spock says anything that might be considered even mildly amusing.

While Spock is still thinking, Jim suddenly stands up and Spock knows that Jim is going to excuse himself from his quarters. Spock wants nothing more than to avoid a repeat of last time, especially after realizing his affections for Jim are not unrequited, and grabs Jim by the wrist before he can get too far from the table. Jim stops and stares at the Vulcan’s slender fingers wrapped around his wrist, which were hotter than he was expecting. Spock is touching him, Jim is shocked to discover, and forgets that he was even trying to leave in the first place.

Neither of them move for what seems like an eternity, Spock and Jim both staring at the hand gripping the wrist. Spock is the first to break the silence, attempting to keep his voice steady and inexpressive when he says, “Please stay.”

Jim’s heart leaps in his chest. He takes a deep breath in and holds it, steeling his nerves. He looks at Spock’s face and sees troubled eyes staring back at him. Even though Spock’s voice had not betrayed any emotion, his brown, human eyes are far more betraying than the Vulcan probably cares to admit.

Jim can’t think straight and he struggles to articulate his confusion. Spock wants him to stay. Jim had felt the atmosphere in the room earlier grow uncomfortable and oppressive, the silence between them growing tense. Jim thought he was doing Spock a favor by leaving, but now Spock wants him to stay. So much so that he was touching Jim’s wrist—a kind of skin-on-skin contact that Jim knows Vulcans tend to avoid—and pleading with his expressive, human eyes. He doesn’t understand it.

He swallows hard, and asks in a strained whisper, “What?”

Spock lets go of Jim’s wrist, and it falls to Jim’s side. Spock is unsure of how to respond, whether he should express a desire to continue their chess game, or if that would be the wrong thing to do. He reluctantly admits to himself that he doesn’t understand Jim’s question, with it being only one word and lacking any context. He decides that Jim requires clarification of his previous request.

Spock pulls his eyes from Jim’s and concentrates on the board while he says, “I recall the first time you came here to play chess, after the council hearing. You left abruptly during our game, and I do not wish to have it happen again.”

Jim considers making up an excuse to leave. Bones would give him an excuse, he’s sure of it. But he finds himself too curious to let it go. It’s obvious Spock didn’t understand his question, and he doesn’t blame him. ‘What’ is not an efficient way to inquire about a Vulcan’s state of mind. And now Spock was bringing up their first chess game, the way he left in the middle of it. His reason for leaving then, the same as it is now. What Jim does not understand, is why Spock is so keen on finishing the damn game.

Spock’s ears and cheeks are burning green, Jim notices as he studies Spock’s face, attempting to determine exactly what Spock is trying to do by keeping him here. Jim’s heartbeat flutters and his stomach lurches as he realizes that Spock is flustered. His eyes widen in shock, and he trips over himself, falling and catching himself on the table, slightly toppling the triple-tiered chess set and sending the pieces scattering.

Spock rises suddenly at Jim’s stumble, and steadies him by grabbing his arm at the elbow. The two were now dangerously close to each other, and when Jim turns to look at Spock, the motion brings their faces within inches of the other’s. Jim licks his lips absentmindedly as he glances down at Spock’s mouth, then back up at Spock’s eyes. He can feel Spock’s warm breath, smell the Cardassian Sunrise still on it, and pushes down the desire to taste it.

“Jim,” Spock whispers, “I have to admit that I… I find myself compromised by you.”

Jim’s heart is beating so fast he fears it will escape his chest. He’s unable to think, to properly process the fact that Spock just confirmed his suspicions, and he’s hyper-aware of the warm hand gripping his arm. He leans in closer, his eyes closing, until their faces are practically touching, and pauses. Spock’s eyelids flutter as he feels Jim’s breath on his lips, and briefly wonders why Jim is hesitating, before realizing that Jim is waiting for permission. Spock closes the distance between them and pushes his lips against Jim’s, tasting the sweet alcoholic beverage from just an hour before (Had it really been just an hour?) and feels Jim’s lips push back against his own.

Jim moves his free hand to the back of Spock’s head, and tangles his fingers in the soft, black hair. There’s no lust in the action, their lips are still closed, warm and dry, but it feel so good that Jim sighs deeply out of his nose while they kiss. It’s nothing like his dream , Jim thinks. It’s better.

When their lips finally part, Jim notices with relief that all tension has left his body. Spock moves the hand that is holding Jim’s arm at the elbow, sliding it up to rest on Jim’s bicep instead. Jim’s other hand is still tangled in his hair, and Spock locks it in place by reaching up and placing his free hand on Jim’s shoulder blade. While Jim is sighing, Spock leans in and kisses him again with lips parted, feeling the moisture from Jim’s mouth filling his own, and leverages the new positioning of his arms and hands to pull Jim in closer.

With Spock’s body pressed against him, Jim feels a shock of arousal travel downwards from his lower abdomen and into his jeans, but can’t bring himself to pull away. He knows what will happen if he doesn’t but can’t bring himself to care. Spock’s tongue is so deliciously close to his own and the way he’s kissing Jim, open-mouthed and desperate, is daring him to push his tongue against Spock’s.

Jim acquiesces to Spock’s dare and pushes his tongue into Spock’s mouth, warm and wet and sweet from the drinks, and is delighted when Spock returns the act with fervor. Jim feels Spock’s hands on his bare back, slipping under the t-shirt he decided to wear to the club, alien fingers hot against his skin. This is all happening too fast, Jim’s mind interrupts, and he reluctantly pulls away from Spock with a sigh.

“Jim?” Spock pants, not masking the concern in his voice.

“I want to– I just–” Jim struggles to articulate and then pauses when he realizes Spock is going to wait for him to gather his thoughts. “I want to take my time. I never… I haven’t felt this way in a long time,” Jim admits.

“Of course, Jim,” Spock mumbles against Jim’s lips as the cadet pulls him closer to plant a chaste kiss on the Vulcan’s lips, a motion intending to reassure Spock that he hasn’t changed his mind about this. About them.

A few more closed-mouth kisses and Jim finally looks Spock in his eyes, smirking in his cocksure way, and says, “So… Shall we finish our game?”

Spock’s eyes light up in a smile that doesn’t show on his lips and Jim grins in unrestrained delight.

✧

The following Wednesday marks the last class of the semester, and the last class before the holiday break. The cadets in the class turn in their final projects and Spock dismisses class early. Jim and Spock sift through them together, sharing any concerns, praise, and criticism before grading them. Jim helps Spock tone down his criticism to a level that won’t make any students cry, and Spock helps Jim articulate the comments that he struggles to find words for. They make a good team, Jim muses silently to himself.

The past week had been amazing, with Jim spending as much of his time with Spock as possible, but Bones had noticed that Jim wasn’t around as much as he used to be and grilled him a bit for it. Jim reluctantly confessed to seeing Spock romantically, expecting his gruff best friend to lay into him or something, but the doctor had just rolled his eyes like he expected as much. Uhura’s reaction had been even more alarming. Jim ran into her by accident when a Xenolinguistics Club meeting had ended and he was waiting for Spock.

“What are you doing here?” Uhura had asked. It was just then that Spock decided to show up and place his hand on Jim’s back. Uhura’s gasp at the sight of the touch made Jim throw her a shit-eating grin reflexively, as if to say, ‘You better fucking believe it.’ To Jim’s delight and Spock’s dismay, this just pissed Uhura off and she grimaced at Jim, growling, “I thought you ‘didn’t need a nice guy’!”

Jim was still grinning when he replied to a furious Uhura, “Turns out I was wrong,” and he led Spock away from the fuming woman by linking their arms together in a display of public affection that could not be mistaken for anything other than the possessive action that it was. He heard Uhura shouting, “Well, mark the date!” angrily as they walked away.

But now that Jim and Spock are sitting in a quiet classroom, grading projects, listening to the other’s steady breathing, interrupting only to get feedback from the other… Sharing each other’s company is comfortable, and there’s no need for possessiveness, or public displays, or declarations.

Jim sighs, and lifts his legs up in order to rest his feet on Spock’s desk, crossing them over each other. Spock looks up at him and can see a sort of wistfulness in the blond cadet’s blue eyes, and raises an eyebrow to inquire. Penny for your thoughts, Jim translates, knowing full well that Spock would never use the phrase.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Spock opens his mouth to respond and then closes it. He isn’t entirely sure what Jim means by it, but he doesn’t have to wonder for very long because Jim continues, apparently sensing Spock’s confusion.

“You know. Over the holiday.”

Spock nods, “Ah, yes. You’ll be going home for the holiday break.”

Jim laughs hard enough for his shoulders to shake, and startles Spock who thought he finally understood the situation. Jim regains his composure, but while still grinning, explains, “No, no. My mother’s on the Potemkin, light years away,” Jim’s grin fades into a comfortable smile. “I’m staying in San Francisco for the holidays. I just assumed you were planning on going to Vulcan.”

Spock tilts his head at Jim curiously, and ruminates on the fact that Jim made the same assumption that he did. The two were more alike than he had originally thought, Spock ponders, and briefly contemplates the compatibility of their minds. If their chess games were any indication, the two were highly compatible, and the thought stirred a warm emotion in his side.

Jim had assumed Spock was going to Vulcan for the holiday break, but didn’t say why. The mention of Jim’s mother makes Spock realize that Jim is likely concerned that Spock had need of visiting family.

“I have no reason to return to Vulcan over the holiday break. My father is the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, and his duties often require his presence here,” Spock explains. “I see my parents with regular frequency. There is no need to visit Vulcan when a visual communication will suffice.”

Jim frowns. “Yeah, but don’t you miss your home?”

Spock is reminded of the Vulcan High Council, their degrading comments about his heritage, and the children who taunted him having grown into prejudiced adults. Then he looks at the human seated so casually at his desk, feet improperly resting on it, and he is reminded of the way the cadet had smugly attempted to provoke him, the bruise on his cheek and the cut on his lip, just a couple months before. And then of all the feelings that said cadet had brought to the surface in the small time that Spock has known him.

The corner of Spock’s lip turns up in a slight smile. “No, I do not.”

Chapter Text

The holiday break is largely uneventful. Jim receives a visual comm from his mother aboard the Potemkin wishing him a happy holidays and promising a souvenir from the diplomatic mission when she returns. Spock spends fourteen minutes and twelve seconds on a call with his parents, mostly listening to his mother speak and ask questions about his brand-new teaching job. He briefly considers mentioning the cadet that he met in his class, and decides to tell her that he has a new teaching aide named Jim Kirk. Her eyes light up at the name, and even his father seems to recognize it. Spock ends the call soon after.

Jim and Spock exchange Christmas presents on the day, with the caveat that neither of them spend more than the cost of their first ‘date’—the price of two Cardassian Sunrises. Jim receives a puzzle cube with asymmetrical moving parts covered in a reflective material dubbed a ‘mirror cube.’ Spock explains that the mirror cube serves the dual purpose of an intellectual challenge while also being tactile enough to fidget with in class without too much distraction. Spock receives a hat with ear flaps lined with a synthetic fur to keep his ears warm in the colder months. Jim tells him that it makes him look ‘cute.’

On New Year’s Eve, Jim and Spock decide to attend an outdoor celebration to watch the fireworks when it starts to dip below freezing. It’s unseasonably cold for San Francisco, but not entirely unexpected given the damage that was done to the climate a couple centuries ago. Spock shivers, finding it too cold even for him, and that’s when they decide to leave, a couple hours before it even strikes midnight.

While walking back towards campus, the freezing temperature turns what would have been rain into light, fluffy, snow that melts as soon as it touches the asphalt. Spock is walking Jim back to his dorm, as he typically does, when the snow begins to fall. His brown eyes widen at the sight of the white flakes, and his gaze follows one as it lands on the arm of his jacket and melts instantly. Jim observes Spock with curiosity, before realizing that the desert-dwelling extraterrestrial has probably never seen snow before. Spock has lived in San Francisco for almost a decade, sure, but the city wasn’t known for getting snow, and Jim knows that snow like this wasn’t going to fall for very long or stick around for any amount of time. The snow would turn into rain, and then wash away whatever amount of snow managed to accumulate on the ground. Jim knows this, but Spock doesn’t, and the Vulcan’s unmasked wonder fills Jim with such a child-like glee that he can’t bring himself to disparage it.

Jim grins at Spock while the Vulcan studies a flake that has fallen on his jacket and hasn’t melted, waiting patiently for the Vulcan to react. Spock spends a few seconds clearly studying the symmetry of the crystalline structure, and Jim is not disappointed when he hears Spock mutter, “Fascinating.”

“What, never seen snow before?” Jim teases, obviously knowing the answer to his own question. The pointed tips of Spock’s ears turn green under the flaps of his new hat. He can tell when Jim is teasing him. Suddenly ashamed of his illogical behavior, Spock stands up straight and clasps his hands behind his back.

“It has never snowed in San Francisco while I have been living here,” Spock asserts defensively, attempting to prevent any further humiliation.

“Maybe we should’ve gone to Iowa together for the holidays. There’s enough snow there,” Jim ribs, warm smile reassuring Spock that perhaps he overreacted to Jim’s teasing, until he hears the next words out of Jim’s mouth. “Big, empty house to ourselves. We could have christened every piece of furniture before break ended.”

Spock is sure his face is flushed green now as he keeps his eyes forward and face neutral, suppressing any showing of emotion at Jim’s inappropriate and immature suggestion. Spock is sure he has turned green, because despite his non-reaction, Jim howls with a laughter that echoes in the snowy streetlight and threatens to wake the entire campus.

Arriving at Jim’s dorm room, he invites Spock inside to warm up, and Spock notes that Jim appears to be alone for the break as he can spot no sign of Jim’s roommate. The suspicion is confirmed when Jim says, “Gary went home for the holidays,” assuming that ‘Gary’ was, in fact, Jim’s roommate.

Spock stands at the entrance of the room, in front of the sliding door, waiting for warmth to return to his hands and face before he can take his leave. He observes the room’s unusual décor as he usually does when he comes in to warm himself. Posters of classic Terran films, PADDs scattered on every surface, and souvenirs from shore leave on Risa presumably belonging to his mother. Spock re-reads the base of a miniature holo-scene from the tropical planet that says, “It’s always 5 o’clock on Risa,” that sits on Jim’s desk next to the reflective puzzle cube Spock gave him.

Jim removes his winter coat, and tosses it on a chair containing other articles of clothing, and looks at Spock. He’s always tempted to invite Spock to stay, to ask him to spoon him in his tiny bed while he sleeps, and wake up to morning wood pressed against him. Almost every fantasy Jim has about Spock starts this way. Jim recalls that Spock wasn’t entirely put off by his flirtation from earlier. He bites his lip and his heart beats faster as he sheepishly says, “You can stay for a bit. If you want.”

Spock pauses and ruminates on Jim’s suggestion, unsure of the reasoning behind the request. Jim very likely still wants to spend the countdown to midnight together, as Jim was excited for the ritual earlier in the evening. However, looking at the small dorm room, Spock cannot think of any way the two would spend the next one-point-seven hours waiting for the calendar year to change. Jim does not own a three-dimensional chess set, and his room suggests an inability to partake in any activities that do not involve his bed.

“Are you certain?” Spock asks, looking around the small room. “My living quarters are more suitable to waiting for the countdown.”

“Ah, well,” Jim’s cheeks turn bright pink and he wonders if Spock had no interest in him, sexually. Maybe the heat and passion from weeks before was a fluke. Or maybe Spock hasn’t caught his meaning, he considers optimistically. Hedging his bets but still giving Spock an out, Jim clarifies, “I was thinking we could just sit on my bed, talking and cuddling. If that’s okay.”

Instead of replying, Spock removes his brand new hat and shoves it into his coat pocket, and then takes off his coat and holds it, looking for a place to hang it up. Jim takes Spock’s coat and tosses it over the same chair that is covered in Jim’s clothing. Spock wonders if he should have given Jim a coat hanger for Christmas instead of a puzzle cube.

Jim sits on the edge of the twin-sized bed and pats the spot beside him in invitation, watching Spock with gentle eyes. Spock cautiously works his way over to where Jim is sitting and realizes that the size of the bed means having to sit so close to Jim that they are practically touching. He hesitates, remembering their first physical contact from two weeks prior, and his humiliation at his lack of self-control. Jim starts to grow concerned with the Vulcan’s immobility, and his gentle expression sours into one of anxiety.

Spock notices the shift immediately and explains, “I am not accustomed to prolonged physical contact and I find myself reluctant to partake in the human custom known as cuddling.”

“Not really a thing they do on Vulcan, huh?” Jim asks sadly. Spock feels a pang in his side that he has become familiar with as of late. He has disappointed Jim, Spock realizes, and finds himself wanting to reassure him that it was not for a lack of desire to do so.

“Vulcans are touch-telepaths, and thus find physical contact disquieting.”

Jim narrows his eyes at Spock. “What about—”

“However,” Spock interrupts, “I am not averse to certain kinds of physical contact in specific intimate contexts where it would be logical to—”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Jim rolls his eyes. Spock stops and waits for Jim to continue. Jim simply looks back at him with disappointed blue eyes that threaten to bore into Spock’s katra.

Suddenly, Spock is filled with regret. Regret is illogical. He knows this, and has known this for most of his life, having been taught ‘Kaiidth’ at a young age. Yet, seeing Jim so affected by this rejection, when Spock could have simply made himself uncomfortable for the next one-point-four hours and brought Jim happiness instead, has him questioning the Vulcan philosophy that had once brought him peace of mind. Apologies are illogical, as they cannot change what has already occurred. And yet—

It is a most un-Vulcanlike impulse that drives Spock’s next actions, though he will justify it later with the most logical of arguments. He turns away from Jim, and sits down on the edge of the bed beside him, keeping his gaze forward and examining the identical bed belonging to Jim’s roommate, and the wall-hangings above it. The size of Jim’s bed, it turns out, did indeed affect their ability to maintain distance between them, and Spock is aware of Jim’s arms and hip touching his own.

Jim resists his delight at the sinking mattress beside him, seeing the uncomfortable way Spock is staring at the wall opposite them, and shifts in his seat attempting to put distance between them.

“Spock, you don’t have to have do this if you don’t want to.”

Spock studies Jim’s expression. He had expected Jim to be his usual cheerful self at Spock changing his mind, but finds that Jim is just as disappointed as before. Spock’s raises an eyebrow in confusion.

“Jim, I do not mind giving you physical affection if you require it,” Spock begins, but cuts himself off when Jim laughs. It’s not a cheerful laughter, Spock is pained to note, as there is a hint of sadness in the sound.

Jim looks at Spock with sombre eyes. When he speaks, it is no louder than a whisper. “Maybe it was too much to think that maybe you would require it.”

Spock is silent, unsure of how to respond. Jim stares at his feet. The room is not entirely quiet; the walls are noisy with the pumping of ventilation, the rushing of pipes, and the thrumming of electricity. Occasionally, footsteps can be heard passing outside in the hall as people come back to their dorm rooms intoxicated. This is not a comfortable silence, Spock laments, and he finds himself wishing to recapture the ease of conversing that they had earlier in the night.

Spock turns his head to look at Jim—who is still downcast and avoiding his gaze—and notes the features of Jim’s face. The soft, pink lips, large and round, cast downward into a frown. The angular jawline and the stubble that threatens to encroach on an otherwise smooth face. Even the freckle at the side of his nose, Spock was finding himself endeared to. And the eyes. Turned down and away from him.

Spock feels a compulsion to remove himself from Jim’s quarters, and to remove himself from Jim’s life. How can one human hold so much power over him? Every time he finds himself in Jim’s presence, he experiences a lack of self-control over his emotions, his physiological responses, and his actions become more motivated by Jim’s happiness than by reasoning. It would be logical, Spock reasons, to distance himself from the human who consistently causes lapses in his emotional control, and to hold onto the Vulcan way.

But just the thought of standing up, putting on his jacket, and leaving the room, is enough to nauseate him. He wonders if his father had similarly suffered in his relationship with his mother, and briefly considers inquiring them about this particular aspect of their relationship. That would be too much for anyone involved, except perhaps his mother, and Spock finds himself reluctant to conduct such a conversation in any case. However, Spock is aware that the situation cannot continue as it currently is, with Spock filled with regret and Jim filled with despair.

Reluctantly, Spock speaks, “Jim, I–” and then stops. Does Spock require physical affection? That was the unspoken question posed by the man sitting next to him.

Jim looks up at Spock with sorrowful, blue eyes, waiting for him to continue. Spock’s heart thumps in his side and he is overtaken by the powerful urge to press his lips against Jim’s. Spock takes Jim’s face in his hands, conscious of his strength, gently resting his fingers under Jim’s ears, and caressing Jim’s cheeks with his thumbs.

Jim eyes flutter closed, tension leaving his body as his lips part with receptiveness to Spock’s touch. They lean in towards each other and their mouths meet in the middle, warm and pleasant, and Jim eases into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Spock’s shoulders. When they part, Spock looks at Jim thoughtfully, and Jim’s imploring eyes gaze back at him, begging the unspoken question.

“Yes,” Spock whispers, “I do require physical affection.”

Jim sighs, relieving himself of the last slivers of tension he was still holding on to. Spock needs this as much as he does, Jim conceives, and allows himself to fall into Spock, resting his head on the Vulcan’s shoulder. Spock wraps his arms around Jim’s back and buries his face in Jim’s soft, blond hair. Spock balks at the thought that he was about to give all this up just moments before, not quite believing that the notion had actually come from him now that Jim was in his arms, making Spock feel so centered.

Jim mumbles into Spock’s shoulder, “How long until the new year?”

“Approximately one-point-two-one-seven hours.”

“Uhhhh, what is that in minutes?”

“Seventy three.”

Jim releases Spock from his grip in order to gaze pensively into Spock’s eyes. Spock waits for Jim to contemplate whatever it is that needs contemplating. Hesitantly, Jim asks, “Could we… lay down together?”

Spock nods and they rearrange themselves on the tiny bed so that Spock is mostly lying flat on his back while Jim lies curled in towards Spock, head resting on Spock’s arm and leg draped over his. Jim’s left hand is resting in the middle of Spock’s chest, right where his heart would be if he were not Vulcan, Spock realizes. The realization causes Spock some amusement, tugging at the corners of his lips. Gently, he takes Jim’s hand and guides it across his chest and towards his right side, placing his hand over top it to signal his desire for Jim to keep it there.

Jim feels the rapid beating of Spock’s heart under his hand and the warm tingling of psi-sensitive fingers on top of it. He is suddenly cognizant of the fact that Spock is so very alien to him, even though logically he should have realized it much sooner. Jim flushes pink at the wave of exhilaration the thought brings him, embarrassed that this simple observation is enough to excite him. Spock shifts uncomfortably under Jim’s weight.

“Oh, sorry,” Jim says, bashfully. “Am I too heavy?”

“No, Vulcans are approximately three times stronger than humans.”

Jim adds it to the list of traits that seemingly exhilarate him, a list that was getting longer by the minute at this rate, and Spock shifts under him once more.

“Jim, I can feel your emotional state through our points of contact.”

Oh. Spock can feel his arousal. Jim’s flush intensifies, spreading to his ears and stomach. Jim mumbles an apology and attempts to remove his hand from where it is trapped beneath Spock’s. Before he can fully pull away, Spock entwines his fingers with Jim’s, holding his hand in place. Jim can feel something in their touch, but before he can inquire about it, Spock explains, “This is an act considered most intimate on Vulcan, due to the sensitive nature of our hands.”

“So, are we like,” Jim pauses, “making out right now?”

Spock’s eyes light up in amusement at the absurdity of Jim’s question. “No, it is more like… a very intimate embrace.”

Jim rubs his thumb against Spock’s while he contemplates the gesture. Simple hand-holding on Terra, and an intimate embrace on Vulcan. Even though he is psi-null, Jim swears he can feel Spock through his fingertips, the Vulcan’s amusement and affection, and desires to add arousal to the list. He knows that Spock can read his own feelings, and so he focuses on the feel of Spock’s body beneath him, the way his crotch is rubbing up against Spock’s hip, and inhales deeply at Spock’s neck savoring the scent of soap and spice and allowing it to titillate him.

Spock flushes at the sudden wave of arousal, immediately realizing what Jim is doing, but unable to prevent the outpouring that Jim is sending him through their contact without pulling his hand away. And Spock does not want to pull his hand away. Spock is reminded of an encounter he once had in his adolescence, back when he was still ungainly and awkward, and finds himself embarrassed to once again feel so inexperienced.

Jim feels Spock’s embarrassment through their touch and gives him a chaste kiss on the neck, attempting to reassure him. “We can stop if you want,” Jim tells him.

Spock squeezes Jim’s hand once and replies, “No, I am amenable to continuing.”

Jim repositions himself so he gains better access to Spock’s neck and continues kissing it, less chastely this time. Spock feels the passion and lust in every kiss, hot and wet, and becomes aware of a rigidness pressing against his leg. Spock’s eyes flutter closed and he arches his back into the warm body on top of him.

Jim moans into Spock’s neck in response, and moves his lips to the pointed ears to whisper, “You like that?”

Jim nips at the pointed tip of Spock’s ear and Spock huffs in a heavy pant that Jim feels could be consider the Vulcan equivalent of a moan. Jim wonders if he can get Spock to give him the human equivalent of a moan. Goal in mind, Jim begins gyrating his hips on Spock’s thigh, grinding his hard-on against him, and panting heavily in Spock’s ear as he does. Spock moves his hands to place his palms flat on Jim’s back, forcing Jim into position atop him, and pushing him against himself.

“Let’s get these shirts off,” Jim moans in Spock’s ear.

Spock moves his hands to the hem of Jim’s shirt and slips his hands underneath the fabric to press against Jim’s bare back. Jim pulls away from Spock, resting his weight on his hips to pull the shirt off of himself completely. Spock’s hungry eyes wash over the bare chest of the blond man on top of him and take in the toned muscles, the sparse hair trailing down to his jeans.

Jim watches with satisfaction as Spock’s eyes follow his chest hair downwards, noting the fire in the Vulcan’s eyes, unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Jim feels a swell of arousal throb in his jeans and knows he has to remove them soon before it becomes a problem. Jim looks down at the panting Vulcan beneath him and presses his body back down against him, pushing his mouth against Spock’s.

Spock feels the skin-to-skin contact everywhere now: his arms, his hands, his neck, his mouth. It’s almost overwhelming, and Spock hastily employs a temporary mental shield against the constant barrage of lust and passion seeping through Jim’s skin. With the barrier in place, Spock sighs into Jim’s mouth as he returns to feeling only his own desire. This, he could handle.

Jim pulls at Spock’s shirt and Spock obliges, allowing Jim to pull it over his head and toss it on the floor alongside his own. With their chests pressed against each other, Spock feels the mental barrier threaten to buckle under the weight of Jim’s unbridled ardor. Jim undoes his jeans and pulls them down past his hips to relieve the throbbing in his boxers. Without the jeans suppressing his erection, Jim’s boxers are fully tented and he grinds his erection against the crotch of Spock’s pants, surprised to find that Spock was not entirely soft himself.

Jim sits on top of Spock, looking down at him, and Spock is flushed bright green while watching Jim’s half-naked body roll his hips against his own, panting heavily with desire. Spock’s hands move faster than he can think, and he tugs at the waistband of Jim’s boxers to pull them down to where the jeans are pulled, freeing Jim’s cock.

Spock takes in the sight of Jim’s hard member, analyzing and committing it to memory. Jim flushes pink while Spock is observing him, clearly embarrassed with the level of scrutiny. Spock notes that Jim’s cock is circumcised and modest, slightly above the average of five-point-one inches, with similar girth.

“It’s not much, I know—” Jim begins, sheepishly.

Spock cuts him off, “It is beautiful, Jim.”

Spock takes Jim in his arms, pulling him down on top of him and taking his mouth in his once more, and begins to despise the small size of the bed hindering his ability to properly ravish his mate. Jim moans into Spock’s mouth as the feel of Spock’s rigidness under his pants grinds against his bare cock, causing pre-cum to leak from the tip and darkening a spot on Spock’s trousers.

Jim lifts his hips to slip his hand between them and undoes the button on Spock’s black pants. Spock lifts his buttocks, inadvertently pushing against Jim’s erection while trying to pull down his trousers, and hears Jim inhale sharply as he does. Spock pulls his pants down, taking his briefs down with them, releasing his own erection. Jim feels Spock’s hardness press against his own beneath him, burning hot, and gasps.

“I want to see it,” Jim huffs. He clambers down Spock’s tight, slender body, flushed green with fervor, and pulls the black trousers down even further to remove them. Jim is surprised by how human it is, although remembering Spock’s parentage, concedes that he isn’t all that surprised after all. Spock is big—bigger than Jim, anyway—and green where pink is expected to be. The head of Spock’s penis pokes out from under his foreskin, leaking with a clear fluid and Jim’s heart pounds as he thinks about how it tastes.

Gripping Spock’s shaft in his right hand and grasping his hip in the other, Jim slightly pulls down the skin covering the tip and flicks his tongue out towards it. The fluid is salty and sweet, and Spock gasps loudly at the ripple of pleasure that washes over him. Jim’s eyes light up at the sound, realizing that even though it was not a moan, it was more than the huff of air he got earlier.

“Have you ever done this before?” Jim asks, curiously.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Jim grins, tightening his grip on Spock’s shaft, and replies, “This,” before laying his tongue flat against the base of Spock’s cock and licking upwards towards the head, flicking it with the tip of his tongue as he moves away and looks up to see Spock’s reaction.

Spock’s head lolls backwards into the pillow and a grunt like hnng escapes his lips before he can stop it. He’s having difficulty forming coherent thoughts with the way Jim is touching him, kissing his shaft, licking at it with his tongue. His cock twitches as Jim pulls the foreskin away from tip and takes the head into his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue. Spock has, in fact, never done this particular act before. He tries to relay this information to Jim but all he can manage is heavy breathing, sweat dripping down his neck and chest, as he watches Jim take more of his cock into his mouth.

Involuntarily, Spock moans, and Jim closes his eyes in satisfaction, humming on the cock in his mouth. The tip is leaking salty pre-cum onto Jim’s tongue and into his throat, more than any human male ever had, another exotic trait of Spock’s to add to the growing list of turn-ons that Jim just started keeping.

Spock places a hand in Jim’s hair, wet with sweat, dishevelling it further with his slender fingers as he grasps at it. The noises escaping Spock’s lips are quiet but constant as Jim works the shaft with his mouth, huffs of hot breath, gasps, grunts, and moans, no longer than a couple of seconds at a time, driving Jim crazy with the scarcity of it.

Jim pulls his mouth away and pants, “I need it in me.”

Spock still can’t find his ability to articulate, but it seems like Jim doesn’t expect a response as he’s already moving to remove his jeans. After discarding them on the floor, he pulls open a drawer in the adjacent night stand and retrieves a bottle of lube. Jim pours a liberal amount of lube onto his hand then runs it up and down Spock’s cock. The liquid is cold and Spock inhales sharply at it, tensing for a brief moment and then relaxing as Jim’s hands continue to work his shaft, warming it up.

Jim stops rubbing Spock’s cock and reaches underneath himself to slip a finger into his tight hole, and Spock realizes that Jim intends to ride him. Spock’s back is stiff from lying on it, and places a hand on Jim’s chest to stop him.

“Could we reposition ourselves?”

Jim pants, “How do you want me?”

Instead of answering, Spock sits up, hands on Jim’s hips, and pushes him down onto his back. Jim’s legs are spread and Spock kneels in-between them. Jim continues pushing a finger into his hole and Spock is finally in a better position to see it. He watches Jim as he pants and moans, chest heaving and sweaty, and Spock grabs the bottle of lubricant that was sitting on the nightstand after Jim’s use of it. He applies a dab of lube to his fingers and Jim’s eyes go wide with excitement. Jim removes his finger and moves his hands in position under his knees, spreading his cheeks in anticipation. Spock warily presses the pad of his index finger against Jim’s wet and waiting hole and it winks in response. Spock pushes the finger in, finding the muscles to already be relaxed by Jim’s earlier insertion, and Jim’s head falls back as he moans appreciably.

“Another,” Jim begs, panting heavily.

Spock obliges and pulls out the index finger to insert the middle finger alongside it. Jim groans in delight, grinning with his eyes closed. Jim’s back arches as Spock rhythmically thrusts his fingers into him, curling his fingers upward and seeking the sensitive spot that he knows is located there. When his fingers find it, Jim’s eyes fly open and he gasps, “Spock!”

The Vulcan shudders at the sound of his name being spoken in such a debauched manner, never having heard it in such a way before. Spock is suddenly overcome with the desire to hear it again while buried deep inside Jim. After ensuring Jim is stretched sufficiently, Spock removes his fingers and aligns the tip of his cock against the waiting hole, watching Jim’s face as he pushes the tip inside.

Jim moans deeply as the tip is embraced by his hole, and Spock gasps at the tight squeezing of the warm opening. Jim relaxes his muscles around Spock and wraps his legs around his back, pulling him closer in towards him. Spock pushes into Jim, and he feels Spock brush up against his prostate. It’s almost too much. Jim tangles his fingers in Spock’s hair and pulls him down to kiss him.

Their kissing is wet and sloppy, desperate and passionate. Spock thrusts into Jim and moans into his mouth, welcoming Jim’s tongue with fervor. Spock’s large cock is hitting Jim’s spot on every thrust inwards and threatens to drive Jim over the edge. Jim’s head falls back against the pillow and Spock moves his lips to Jim’s neck, continuing to thrust into him in a steady rhythm.

“Oh, god, Spock,” Jim gasps, sweat dripping down his heaving chest. Spock kisses the shell of Jim’s curved ear and Jim can hear Spock panting into it. Jim’s hole grips around Spock’s dick as he comes, squeezing with every wave of pleasure shooting out of his cock and onto his stomach.

A whimpering noise escapes Spock’s lips as Jim clenches around his cock, the sight and sound of Jim’s climax pushing him over the edge. Spock releases load after load of hot cum into Jim then collapses on top of him, pressing his heaving, sweaty body against Jim’s. They lay like this for a while, just breathing and holding each other, until they grow soft.

“Wait, what time is it?” Jim asks after a few moments have passed.

“It is six minutes into the new year.”

Jim huffs out a small chuckle. “You tellin’ me we just had sex for over a year?”

Jim can feel Spock’s eyebrows furrow at the question and he howls with laughter. What a way to start the new year, Jim thinks and smiles contently at the Vulcan pressed against him. His Vulcan.

“Happy new year, ashayam.”