Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spock was a scientist. And as a scientist, he was constantly observing and cataloguing all phenomena around him. Usually, it was quite easy for him to analyse and categorise the data he took in, but lately, he had come across a series of phenomena that did not fit in with anything he had previously observed.

Specifically, it pertained to Jim Kirk.

Spock had spent so much time with his Captain that he had come to know almost exactly what was going through the man’s head simply by looking at him. In fact, he had seen Kirk exhibit these same behaviours before — multiple times — but only in a very specific context.

The long, drawn-out eye contact, the subtle smiles, the lingering touches.

Spock had seen all of these behaviours before, when the Captain was romantically interested in a beautiful woman. He had seen it with Lenore, Kodos’ daughter. He had seen it with Rayna, the android. And of course, he had seen it with Edith Keeler. But he had never seen it directed at a man. And especially not toward himself of all people.

Lately, Jim had been acting rather strangely toward Spock. He had not been as overt as he had with these women, but Spock could not deny what he was seeing.

Jim had been approaching his station more frequently on the bridge, placing his hand on the back of Spock’s chair, fingers accidentally brushing against his back. It had made Spock stiffen. Not in an unpleasant way, but in a way that was very unfamiliar.

Jim had been fixing him with that same soft smile over their chess games, his moves growing more and more irrational the more he focused on Spock. Sometimes, when Spock raised his brow, questioning a move, Jim’s smile would grow even wider, his eyes practically sparkling with something unsaid. His fingers would touch Spock’s at every opportunity, almost like he was doing it all subconsciously. It made the Vulcan’s heart stutter in his ribcage, and he was not sure why.

“Mr Spock,” Jim said, his voice surprisingly low. “Your game seems a little off today,”

The Captain’s musing tone caught Spock a little off guard. He looked up, opening his mouth to speak, only to see those hazel eyes fixated on his lips. Suddenly his mouth went dry. This was illogical. It did not make any sense for his body to respond in such a way.

“Captain…” he went to reply. His voice came out far too quiet and raspy for his own liking. Jim’s eyes widened. Spock coughed lightly, clearing his throat. “I find myself distracted by your illogical gameplay.”

“Come on, Spock,” Jim grinned, leaning in closer, “when do I ever play logically?”

Spock hummed in consideration, making his move. He found he could not bring himself to hold the Captain’s eyes. His gaze was far too intense.

So, the game went on.

And Jim won.

Spock continued to monitor his Captain’s behaviour over the next few days, mentally filing away every odd interaction.

By the end of the week, he had a whole collection of data to analyse. Sitting in his quarters, he sifted through it all, noting the trends that in the past seven days Jim had:

• unnecessarily touched his arm or back or hand 7 times
• smiled at him 34 times
• sat within close proximity to him 16 times

There were more, but perhaps the most disconcerting was the fact that he had caught Jim looking at his lips a solid 47 times over the week. When he spoke, Jim’s eyes were on his lips, watching them move. When Spock could not hold back a quirk of a smile during chess, or on the bridge, Jim was watching him, his face morphing into a sweet smile. It made Spock’s stomach twist in a way that was far from logical.

That was why he found himself standing outside sickbay, considering whether he really wanted to have this conversation with the good doctor. However, seeing as though the doctor was an expert in human emotions, he saw no alternative — unless he directly confronted Jim, which he did not want to do.

The chime rang and he walked in, finding the doctor sitting at his desk, looking over a report on a PADD.

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock said, approaching the man.

“Well if it isn’t our resident pain in the ass,” McCoy smiled. “What can I do ya for, Spock?”

“I have a question.”

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “You have a question? For me?”

Spock nodded once, taking a seat opposite the doctor, steepling his fingers as he thought about how to phrase it.

“Go on then, I don’t have all night.”

“I have observed some unusual behaviour from the Captain,” Spock began.

“Like what?”

“He has… He has spent an excessive proportion of time fixated upon… my face.”

“Your face?” McCoy echoed, his face slack with disbelief. He could not believe what he was hearing.

“Yes. My mouth in particular,” Spock said. They sat together in silence for a moment. “Doctor, I would like to know if there is something abnormal about my face.”

McCoy had to clamp his lips shut as he tried to hold back a laugh. The Vulcan was being entirely serious. He never joked.

Deciding to have some fun with this, the doctor stood and came around to Spock, pretending to examine his face. He pushed his head to the side to get a good look at his cheek, then he pinched his ear, humming as though he had seen something. Coming back around to his seat, he sat down, careful to maintain a grave expression.

“I’m afraid you’re ears are turning green, Mr Spock,” he said.

Spock blinked. He was not amused.

“If you will not be of assistance, I shall consult other sources.” Spock moved to get up, but McCoy quickly held his arm to keep him in place.

“Now wait a minute, I was just messing with you!” he said crossly. He muttered under his breath, “Bloody Vulcans, can’t even take a joke.”

Spock opened his mouth to shoot back a scathingly logical reply, but the doctor kept talking.

“Are you seriously telling me you have no idea why Jim is acting like this?”

“Yes doctor, that is exactly the point I am making. If I was aware of the cause of the Captain’s behaviour, I would have no need to ask for your opinion.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, leaning back to lounge in his chair.

“Then let me ask you: have you ever seen Jim behave like this before?”

Spock paused, thinking.

“When?” McCoy pushed.

“The Captain has exhibited similar behaviours when attracted to someone.”

The doctor looked expectantly at Spock, waiting for the coin to drop. However this seemed to be taking much longer than expected.

“For a genius, you can be pretty dumb sometimes,” he said.

“I do not understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” McCoy tried to think of another way to guide Spock to the conclusion. “What else have you noticed.”

“He has been increasingly present in my personal space.”

“And?”

“He has found reasons to come into close contact with me.”

“So?”

“These are all behaviours Jim has previously directed towards women he has tried to pursue romantically.”

“And what conclusion does that lead you to? Logically, of course,” McCoy didn’t even try to hide his sarcasm.

“That leads to two possible conclusions — the first being that the Captain is romantically interested in me, and the second and more likely conclusion — that the Captain is unwell.”

“Goddammit Spock!” The doctor practically slammed his fist onto the table. “Jim loves you! He’s been in love with you for God knows how long!”

Spock’s insides clenched with the shock of the blow. On the outside, however, he merely raised his brows, lips parting in an uncouth display of surprise.

“… Love?” he echoed quietly.

“Yes, you idiot! Love — heart racing, butterflies in your stomach, type of love.”

Now Spock quirked his brow in confusion.

“Do you suspect that the Captain’s affliction is the result of a parasitic infection of an insect species in his stomach?”

McCoy practically slapped his face as he went to facepalm.

“There are no insects in Jim’s stomach,” he explained like he would to a delinquent child. “It’s an expression.”

“Ah yes, an archaic human expression designed to show someone is nervous or excited.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “Yes, exactly.”

There was silence for some time while Spock processed all of this.

“You believe that Captain Kirk has… feelings for me?”

“Yes!” said the exasperated human. “He told me himself!”

Spock paused. McCoy sighed.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but that was two years ago, and the way you two are so damn oblivious kills me!”

The Vulcan was stunned into silence.

Two years. 730 days.

And he hadn’t noticed?

“Thank you doctor, I must go.”

Without waiting for McCoy’s response, Spock left.

Chapter Text

Spock sat at his table in front of his computer, staring at the screen but unable to read the words. He had been like that for almost two hours. The console in front of him displayed a journal article written in 2193 — slightly outdated, but still relevant.

It was titled: “Romantic and Sexual Interest as Exhibited Across Species”.

And he was stuck on the section about Vulcans.

His eyes scanned through the document again, but the words were not sinking in. He flicked to another source.

A Rigellian magazine article written a few years ago: “He loves me, he loves me not — the trouble with Vulcans”.

Spock’s sharp eyes skimmed the words. It was written in tabloid style with a lot of unscientific and illogical statements, but one thing caught his eye.

“If you’re confused, you can rest assured that your Vulcan probably is too. Due to the repressed nature of Vulcan emotions, often they don’t know what they’re feeling themselves.”

He shut off the screen and walked over to his bed.

He knew what Jim felt now. But how did he feel?

Spock knew he cared for the Captain. He had accepted some time ago that he cared for Jim more than other crew members, but he had attributed that to the fact that the Captain was the heart of the ship. Now he was stuck.

Could there have been another reason he cared so deeply for Jim?

What did it even mean to care about someone?

Spock didn’t know what genuine romantic interest would even look like coming from him.

He analysed his parents’ relationship. They had been quite affectionate by Vulcan standards, constantly brushing fingers and smiling at each other — if one could count the subtle curl of Sarek’s lips as a smile. His parents were also very close. Spock knew they shared a bed, although he had never seen the two of them in it together — that would have been obscene.

He applied these observations to his own relationship with the Captain.

Spock knew he was very touchy with Jim, always holding his arm to steady him, or brushing shoulders as they stood in close proximity. To Vulcans, that would be undignified, perhaps even scandalous. He shivered as he recalled the time Jim almost buried his face into his neck when he was afraid of losing command. Those strong hands holding his biceps, warm breath on his skin—

A chime at the door interrupted Spock’s thoughts.

He sat up and straightened his spine as the door whooshed open. His heart stuttered as Jim walked in, carrying his portable chess set.

“Captain,” he greeted softly.

“Hey, I thought you were going to come over to play chess tonight,” Jim said.

A quick glance at the chronometer told Spock it was seven minutes past the time they were due to meet.

“You’re never late,” Jim continued, sitting down at the table. “I was worried.”

“I apologise,” Spock stood to join him, pushing the computer console out of the way.

To his horror, the screen flickered to life, displayed the article he had been studying earlier. Jim glanced at it, eyes widening. Spock shut it off as calmly as he could, turning to the Captain with a slight green flush on his cheeks, waiting to see if he wanted to discuss it.

Jim was silent for a moment. Something passed through his eyes, but then his bright smile and joviality were back. But it was muted. He set up the board without saying much.

That night, Spock lay awake in bed, analysing the game.

Jim’s fingers had brushed his twice, but both times, he had pulled away rather than lingering.

He had caught Jim looking at him a few times, but he did not maintain eye contact.

Even the banter had been sporadic and dim compared to usual.

When the game finished, Jim clapped Spock on the shoulder and teased him lightly for his defeat. But he packed up quietly and left without a goodnight.

What changed?

Spock did not understand.

Jim’s shoulders slumped as soon as the doors closed behind him, locking him in his quarters. There was an ache in his chest that simply was not going away. He put the chess set back on the shelf and walked into his en suite on autopilot. He changed into his pyjamas, and curled up in bed.

Hot tears brimmed in his eyes and he swiped them away with the cuff of his sleeve.

He must have been stupid to ever think Spock could love him back.

He was delusional to have thought, after Spock refused T’Pring, that he had a chance.

Jim fought back the tears and squeezed his eyes shut.

You could never be with him.

It was a fact. A cold, hard, inevitable fact.

When Doctor McCoy stepped onto the bridge the next morning, he could practically cut the tension with a scalpel. Captain Kirk sat at his seat, looking anywhere but the science station. And Spock remained at his post, spine straight, as though he was acutely aware of being watched. Jim met his eyes and immediately put on his captain persona.

“Bones!” he smiled.

This made Spock turn. McCoy noted that the two men met eyes for a moment before Spock quickly turned back to his work.

“Jim, can we talk?” the doctor said quietly.

“Sure.” Jim blinked, waiting for McCoy to speak.

“In private,” he added.

“Oh, right, of course.” He stood up and stretched his back. He spoke louder so Spock could hear him. “I’ll be back soon. Mr Spock, you have the bridge.”

As Jim and McCoy headed to the turbolift, Spock wordlessly took the captain’s chair.

Down in sickbay, McCoy pulled out a chair for the captain, preparing himself to admit he had broken their promise. However, after what he had seen on the bridge, he assumed Jim already knew.

“Jim,” he began. “Did something happen?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

Bones had no time for this deflection. “Between you and Spock.”

“What? Of course not,” Jim laughed lightly. If the doctor hadn’t known him for so long, he probably would have bought it.

“Are you sure? Because the bridge felt so damn cold I could have gone skiing.”

“Nothing happened! Is this why you called me down here?”

Now it was Bones’ turn to hesitate.

“I called you down here because I spoke to Spock yesterday, and…”

“And?”

“I accidentally told him that you… that you have feelings for him.”

Jim opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbled, moving to get up.

McCoy didn’t stop him, but he stood up too. “I’m sorry. He came in here asking me these silly Vulcan questions, and I just—”

“It doesn’t matter because he doesn’t feel the same.”

There was silence, filled only with hurt and heartache.

“How do you know?”

“Because why would he?” Jim said sharply. He quickly schooled his tone, reminding himself that it was unfair to take it out on the doctor. “He’s Vulcan — he’s Spock! He’s told us so many times that he doesn’t feel. So it’s stupid of me to think that he would make an exception for me.”

The captain sagged back into his seat when he was done with his outburst.

“Jim…”

“I saw what he was reading yesterday— some article about how to know if a Vulcan likes you.”

“Jim—”

“Don’t you know what that means, Bones? He loves someone else. A Vulcan, of course,” he laughed bitterly. “And now I’m left here feeling betrayed, even though… even though I have no right to be.”

“Feelings don’t usually make sense,” the doctor commented. “You have every right to feel the way you do, but I think we need to look at the facts again.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that Spock would be looking at an article like that right after he found out you like him?”

Jim paused, trying to keep his rational thought processes in place.

“I mean, it’s a bit strange, but maybe you telling him about me made him consider the person he actually likes?”

Bones raised a brow.

“Let me put it this way: when was the last time Spock met another Vulcan?”

The Captain thought about it for a minute.

“I can’t remember… I think it was when his parents came on board for the Babel conference.”

McCoy hummed, swallowing the urge to say ‘I’m a doctor, not a school counsellor’.

“So if Spock hasn’t met any Vulcans lately, how likely is it that he has feelings for a Vulcan?”

“Not very likely, but—” Jim sighed and wiped his hand down his face. “Don’t do this. Don’t get my hopes up, Bones. It will only make the heartbreak worse.”

The doctor nodded and let the Captain walk out, presumably back to the bridge.

If these two senior officers were going to act like idiots, then it was clearly up to him to sort this out before they made things worse.

Chapter Text

Spock paced in his quarters. It had been one week since Doctor McCoy told him about Jim’s affection for him. One week since he and Jim had played chess. One week since Jim last looked him in the eyes.

He had never realised how much of his time and energy had previously been allocated to the Captain. Now that Jim was no longer lingering in his quarters, insisting on another round of chess, or making excuses to come see him about mission reports, Spock found he had a lot of free time on his hands — free time that was being spent pacing his quarters like a caged animal.

He considered contacting the Captain and confronting him directly about his feelings. But something about that made his stomach churn. It was completely illogical.

So instead, he forced himself to meditate. Perhaps a few hours of introspection could help him work out what to do?

Meanwhile, Doctor McCoy was busy having a serious discussion in the rec room with none other than Lieutenant Uhura — the Enterprise’s resident romance expert.

“They haven’t been able to look each other in the eye for a week now!” McCoy hissed.

“I know. I’ve been on the bridge,” Uhura said dryly.

“I think they both need a kick in the pants,” the doctor surmised.

“I have an idea—” Uhura grinned.

“Commander Spock?” The chime rang for a moment before his door slid open, revealing Lieutenant Uhura.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted, hands clasped behind his back.

“I was hoping I could talk to you — as a friend, not an officer.”

The Vulcan raised his brow but motioned for her to take a seat at his desk. He resumed his own place on the other side, waiting for her to speak.

“You see, Spock, I…” Uhura glanced away, appearing shy. “There’s a crewman who… well, I think I may have feelings for.”

This time Spock raised both brows, a true sign of how unprepared he was for this line of conversation.

“Fascinating,” he murmured before he could stop himself. “Although, I do not understand why you would inform me of this.”

“I just needed a friend to talk to,” she sighed. “I’m not sure if I like him, or if I’m just imagining it.”

“Lieutenant—” Spock cut himself off, remembering this was supposed to be a casual conversation. “Uhura, would it not be more logical to consult a human friend about these feelings? As a Vulcan, I do not have the necessary emotional context to assist you with this matter.”

“No, Mr Spock, I want a logical perspective. Please? Will you help me work through the signs — logically?”

Spock paused. “I cannot guarantee the accuracy of my assessment. I do not have enough data regarding human romantic rituals.”

“That’s fine,” Uhura said quickly, glad that Spock was agreeing. “Let’s just see what logical conclusion we can come to.”

While this was going on in Spock’s quarters, Leonard McCoy poured his captain another serving of Saurian brandy.

“Jim, you’ve been positively miserable this whole week.”

Captain Kirk rubbed a hand down his face, swirling his drink in its tumbler. He replied sarcastically. “What gave it away?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you keep sighing? Or your horrible temper?”

“Bones,” Kirk whined, asking him to let it go.

“You’re being a lovesick fool. It’s not fitting of a Starship Captain.”

Kirk sighed again.

“There it is! Another sigh.” McCoy pointed out.

The Captain was quiet, lost in thought as he stared into his drink. His chest ached as he thought back to earlier in the day when he had to approach Spock’s station on the bridge. His hand had automatically gone out to rest on the back of Spock’s chair, but he had pulled back as soon as he realised, taking a respectful step away to give his First Officer some space.

Spock had stiffened when Jim approached. His voice had been tight, formal.

And that was still chewing away at what was left of Jim’s heart.

“Listen, Jim. You need to talk to him,” Bones said, taking a sip from his own glass.

“How can I do that?” Jim laughed without any real humour. “Just go up to him and say: ‘Hey Spock, I love you.’”

“Maybe not that directly,” the doctor winced at the approach. “But you could start with ‘Hey Spock, can we talk?’”.

“Suppose he says yes. Then what?” Jim asked.

“I don’t know! You’re the expert in confessing your feelings to people!”

“But I only do that when I’m sure they feel the same way!”

“Dammit Jim, he’s a Vulcan! I don’t think he knows how he feels either!”

“So first, I noticed him staring at me,” Uhura smiled, putting on a very convincing show of being dreamily in love. “He always smiles at me and comes close to me.”

“Logically, this indicates that he enjoys being in close proximity to you.”

“Oh, I know,” she grinned. “But the problem is, I don’t know how I feel about him.”

Spock waited in a puzzled silence, waiting for her to continue.

“He’s handsome, and smart, and funny, but…”

“But?” Spock almost leaned in.

He couldn’t help but apply everything Uhura was saying about her crewman to Captain Kirk. The Captain was handsome — objectively, of course. He had tousled dark-blond hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and a smile that made Spock’s heart do something odd in his side. He was definitely smart. He was the only human who had ever beaten Spock in chess, and all while playing so infuriatingly illogically. At first it had almost irritated Spock, but now he found he missed their chess games. The Captain was also very funny. At least he was funny in the way Spock interpreted humour. Spock never laughed, and he tried so hard not to smile, but sometimes Jim acted so illogically that Spock couldn’t help the curl of his lips.

“Spock?” said Uhura. “Mr Spock?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“We were talking about how he makes me feel.”

“Right, of course.” The Vulcan forced himself to focus on his friend’s problems, storing his own thoughts aside to untangle during another round of meditation.

“As I was saying, he makes me so confused sometimes. He does all this to me, and then I remember that he’s a huge flirt,” she huffed. “He used to flirt with girls all the time!”

“I see,” Spock steepled his fingers. “Does he continue to… flirt with these other girls?”

“No! That’s the thing — he stopped doing that when he started paying attention to me!”

Spock hummed in consideration.

“And now,” Uhura continued. “Now, I feel sad when I don’t get to see him. I find myself wishing he would touch my hand — even just a brush of fingers when he hands me a PADD. I want him to be close to me and smile at me and tease me.”

Spock raised a brow. “I believe you have answered your own question.”

“Huh?”

“From the limited data available to me, it appears you reciprocate this man’s affection.”

Uhura grinned. “Isn’t that illogical?”

“On the contrary, it is quite logical.”

“Oh? How is that, Mr Spock?”

“A stable and mutually beneficial relationship should be founded on the basis of reciprocation. You appreciate this man’s affections and reciprocate them. This could be the foundation for a logically successful relationship.”

“Could be?”

“I say could be because there are many external factors and unaccounted for possibilities in the future. But it is indeed a possibility that your relationship could be successful.”

To someone who didn’t understand Vulcans, this might have sounded offensive. But Uhura knew that this was about as optimistic as Spock could get. She thanked him and left quickly in a good mood, hoping she had planted and watered the seed in his mind.

“Bones,” Jim slurred slightly. “What if he hates me?”

“Hate is illogical!” the doctor slurred back. He had accidentally deviated from the plan he and Uhura had devised. The plan was to get Jim tipsy — not fully drunk. And McCoy had gone a step further and gotten drunk with the Captain.

“But so is love! Love is even more illogical!” Jim leaned forward and put his forehead on the table. His voice was muffled when it came out. “What if he just blinks and tells me I’m being illogical? I’ll never recover!”

“And if you say nothing, you’ll implode!”

Bones was met with silence. And then a soft snore.

He sighed. This mission was a failure. Hopefully Uhura had better luck with Spock.

Jim woke with a pounding headache and a parched mouth. As his eyes focused, he came to the conclusion that he was definitely not in his own bedroom. He sat up and looked around, spotting Bones slumped on the chair beside the bed. This was the doctor’s room.

“Bones!” Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to his feet. The doctor’s eyes flew open and he stood up too. “What time is it?”

The chronometer read 0231.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?”

Jim sunk back onto the bed, running a hand through his mussed hair. “God, I thought I slept in for the alpha shift.”

Hearing this, the doctor relaxed and sat back down. At least they had both sobered up a bit. But neither was addressing the elephant in the room.

Perhaps it was too late — or early — to do this right now?

“Go back to sleep, Jim.”

“No,” the Captain murmured. “I’ll go back to my room.”

Bones didn’t bother protesting. He just sat and watched as Jim stood again. He said nothing as the man straightened the creases in his yellow shirt, making his way to the door.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Jim tried to joke. Bones nodded, climbing into his own bed.

Spock walked briskly through the dimmed hallways, coming back to his room after spending prolonged time in Science Lab 2. He had gone down there telling himself he was just going to check on his plant growth experiment, but after three hours of not recording a single point of data, he decided to go back to his room. To his horror, he had sat back on his chair for the whole three hours, eyes focused on his planted, but mind focused on his conversation with Lieutenant Uhura.

“I feel sad when I don’t get to see him.”

Spock had sat in the lab, thinking about that. What did it mean to feel sad? He wasn’t exactly sure, but from all the data he had accumulated from medical journals and conversations, sadness was a feeling of lack. It was a heaviness in his chest that was also accompanied by emptiness.

How illogical.

Sadness was an unfulfilled want, or perhaps a need, that he was unable to articulate. Sometimes it was physical pain — a dull ache that flared up when Jim Kirk left the room.

“I find myself wishing he would touch my hand…”

Spock had considered this next. He flexed his hand, studying it in the dull blue light of the science lab. Green-tinted veins, long fingers. He recalled Jim’s warm fingers brushing against his when they both reached for a PADD. He rolled his hand into a fist and clenched his muscles. It was illogical to wish for someone’s touch.

But why did the ache in his chest deepen when he realised Jim hadn’t touched his hand all week?

“I want him to be close to me and smile at me and tease me.”

Did Spock really want that? Did he really crave Jim’s closeness? His proximity? His smile? His little teasing jabs?

The Vulcan shuddered, thinking of the Captain’s bright smile, the little glances and touches that were shared like a secret between the two of them. And as illogical as it was, he wanted more.

Now, as he walked down the corridor, he kept his gaze fixated on the floor of deck 5, lost in his thoughts. If it wasn’t for his Vulcan hearing, he never would have heard the footsteps coming in the other direction.

Spock stopped dead in his tracks. Jim rounded the corner.

The two men locked eyes.

Jim looked away.

Spock swallowed.

His heart hammered in his ribcage, dark eyes scanning Jim’s body. The messy hair, the perfect fit of his command shirt, the soft outline of his muscles. Spock was observant, and he wished he wasn’t.

“Spock…” Jim looked up, finally meeting his eyes again.

The Vulcan felt a jolt of something akin to electricity pass through his body, heightening every nerve ending, making his hyperaware of every sight, every sound, every feeling.

He could hear his own breathing, feel the blood rushing through his veins.

“Captain,” he replied quietly. He tried to keep his voice steady, to maintain the veneer of professionalism, however it came out low, hoarse.

Neither of them took another step. Neither of them broke the equilibrium.

Chapter Text

Spock flexed his hands behind his back. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, wanting to reach out and touch Jim. He wanted to press his fingertips to Jim’s, to feel his warmth, to be close to him. But that would be illogical.

He tried to control himself, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his palms. But it wasn’t working. Jim was a magnet and Spock was a collection of iron filings shifting in a container about to burst.

Doubts circled through the Vulcan’s mind. Illogical. Not enough evidence. Rejection.

He almost kept walking. He almost went back to his room and left this all behind. But something in Jim’s eyes stopped him.

Longing.

Spock was no expert at identifying emotions in humans, but something about the softness in Jim’s gaze, the way his lips were parted ever so slightly, made him hesitate. It was now or never.

“Jim,” Spock’s voice was gentle, perhaps even nervous. There was a slight tremor in the way he said the Captain’s name — with reverence, with hope. He watched the motion of Jim’s throat as he swallowed.

Those uncontrollable fingers longed to reach out, to feel Jim’s pulse, to feel the vibration of his throat as he spoke. Spock clasped his hands tighter behind him back and took a tentative step forward. There was still an ocean of space between them, but it was quickly closing.

“You are awake,” Spock whispered, now only an arm’s length from Jim.

“Yeah,” came the breathless reply. Jim’s eyes dipped down to Spock’s lips for a moment, then to the floor.

Spock’s fingers twitched with the need to touch Jim’s face, to reach out and brush his fingers against the Captain’s jaw and tilt it up so he could meet those hazel eyes. He fought back this urge, reminding himself to be restrained.

“Spock…”

“Yes…”

“I think I love you,” Jim whispered.

It took a moment for those words to register in either of their minds, but Spock processed it first.

Jim. His Captain. Was in love with him.

A second later, the realisation dawned on Jim’s face, his full cheeks flushing red.

“Spock, I’m sorry— I—” he stammered, about to take a step back.

But before he could move, Spock’s hand grabbed his wrist. His grip was firm, but not rough. It said stay without words. The Vulcan closed the distance between them, bringing their joined hands up between their chests.

Spock’s heart was hammering. He was holding Jim’s hand. He didn’t know where he had mustered up this sudden confidence, but it was far from logical. Even though the Captain had admitted his feelings, there was still no logical reason to hold his hand. Something so intimate should have been out of the question.

Jim looked up into those dark eyes, watching as that carefully-constructed mask melted away to reveal tenderness. Spock’s grip on his wrist loosened, as though giving him permission to recoil. But instead, Jim’s fingers found Spock’s, entwining their hands together.

Spock’s voice was a breathless whisper. “Captain—”

“Jim,” he corrected.

Spock swallowed. “Jim…”

“Yes,” the human replied, waiting for Spock’s next words. They would either make him or break him.

But the Vulcan did not speak.

Spock could not find his voice. The words were jumbled in his head, unable to get in line to form a proper sentence. But his time was slipping away. With every passing second, Jim’s doubt would grow.

Without a word, he guided Jim’s hand to the side of his ribcage — where his heart lay. He watched the Captain’s face as he registered how fast it was beating.

“Jim…” Spock finally spoke. He wasn’t sure what he would say. His brain was still short-circuiting. But the words were coming now, and he had no power to stop them. “I do not know what it means to love… but…”

He swallowed. Jim waited patiently.

“If I had to extrapolate the data… I…” Spock’s voice dropped to such a quiet whisper that Jim could barely hear him. “I believe I love you too.”

Jim blinked. For a moment, he was unsure if he was imagining all of this. His rigid, emotionless, Vulcan First Officer was standing here, chest-to-chest with him, confessing his love. His hand was on Spock’s side, feeling the steady beat of his heart as they bared their souls to each other.

His eyes drifted back up to Spock’s lips. So soft, so pink, so enticing.

God, he wanted him.

“Spock?” Jim was surprised that his voice was not shaking.

“Yes…”

“Can I kiss you?”

There was silence for a beat, punctuated only by the low hum of the engines below.

“The human way?” Spock’s brow twitched up a little.

A small laughed bubbled up in Jim’s chest. “Yes, the human way.”

Spock glanced to the side but then met the Captain’s eyes again. “I… I must tell you something first.”

“Anything.”

“I have only ever engaged in this human practice twice — of which both times I was impaired or intoxicated.” Spock pulled back a little, as though telling this to Jim would surely drive a wedge between them.

“That doesn’t bother me, Spock. Does it bother you?” Jim found both of Spock’s hands and held them between their chests, closing the gap again.

“No… But it is imperative you are aware — I do not possess sufficient data about this experience to ensure it is pleasurable for you.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to be stunned into silence.

“Spock,” he smiled, bringing his face closer to the Vulcan’s. “Just being near you is pleasurable for me.”

“Then I see no issue with kissing you.” Spock’s warm breath hit Jim’s cheek. The Captain took this to mean Spock was ready.

His closed his eyes and leaned in, brushing his lips against Spock’s.

There was barely any contact, but Jim felt his heart burst. Fireworks were exploding in his chest, the anticipation building beyond what he could physically handle. A moment later, his lips were pressed fully to Spock’s in a clumsy, needy, perfect first kiss.

Perfect for them did not mean neat, or smooth, or like a holovid. Perfect meant warm and sweet and a chance to learn more about each other.

Jim let go of Spock’s hands, tentatively placing one one of his own on the Vulcan’s waist, and the other back to his heart. Following his lead, Spock’s warm hand found Jim’s heartbeat through the material of his shirt. Pulling away for a breath, Jim guided Spock’s free hand to his hip, then quickly pulled him closer by the waist. A soft gasp left the Vulcan’s lips.

“Jim…” Spock’s voice was gravelly and a little raw with something akin to want. Jim didn’t want to assume, but the intensity in those dark brown eyes was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“Yes,” Jim breathed out, cupping his cheek. His thumb brushed over Spock’s bottom lip.

The Vulcan shuddered, eyes fluttering closed.

“W-why— why do you close your eyes when— when you kiss?” Spock managed to say.

“What?” chuckled Jim.

“When we k-kissed…” he breathed out unsteadily. He parted his lips to continue, but Jim moved the pad of his thumb over Spock’s bottom lip again. Suddenly Spock’s hand was at his wrist, pulling Jim’s hand away slightly. “I cannot speak when you touch my lips..”

“Sorry,” Jim said, returning his hand to his side.

“It is… it is extremely intimate, in Vulcan culture, to place one’s fingers near another’s mouth,” he explained quietly. “It is something… only bonded partners do.”

Jim’s eyes widened. In all this heat, he had forgotten the significance of hands to Vulcans.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised sheepishly.

“Do not apologise,” Spock returned. He brought his hand up to cup Jim’s cheek. The Captain couldn’t imagine how intimate this gesture was for Spock.

Jim smiled, bringing his hand up to Spock’s. “What was your question from before?”

“Ah,” Spock’s lips quirked up in a small, shy smile. “When we kissed, you closed your eyes. Why?”

Jim grinned. “You kept your eyes open?”

“Yes?”

“Oh Spock,” he couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s adorable.”

Spock raised both brows, still waiting for an explanation.

“I closed my eyes because I wanted to focus on the physical feeling of kissing you.”

“I see,” Spock replied, storing this information in his mind for future reference.

“Usually people close their eyes because it would be really awkward to try to look into your partner’s eyes when neither of you can focus at such close range,” Jim explained further, speaking scientifically for Spock’s benefit.

“That is… logical.”

Jim smiled again. There was so much joy inside him that he simply could not help it.

“Spock?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s go back to my quarters.”

Spock paused for a moment, fighting back his own smile.

“That too would be logical.”

Chapter Text

The door to the Captain’s quarters slid open with a soft whoosh. Jim stepped inside, thrumming with energy despite the hour. He was followed closely by Spock, who stood as always with his spine straight and his hands behind his back. The moment the doors shut, Jim felt his heart rate pick up.

He was alone. With Spock.

Of course, they had been alone together countless times before — reviewing mission logs, going over reports, analysing Starfleet orders. But never like this.

Jim had imagined this more times than he cared to admit. He had fantasised about being alone with Spock, knowing Spock returned his feelings, kissing him, touching him. And all of this had happened in the span of less than an hour. He paced his room slowly, wondering what to do next. He had brought Spock here, but now what?

He couldn’t offer Spock a drink. Spock didn’t drink.

Would it be rude if he poured one for himself? Only God knew how badly he needed something to wash down his nerves.

But what if Spock didn’t like the taste of alcohol and he wouldn’t want to kiss him again?

Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He finally looked up at Spock, who was standing quietly just past the threshold of the doorway.

“Let’s sit down,” the Captain suggested. But where would be the best place?

The desk was too formal — that was where they always sat for work.

The bed was a step too far — he feared Spock would interpret such a gesture in the worst way possible.

Spock nodded and waited, as always, for the Captain to lead the way.

Seeing no alternative, and pressed for time, Kirk simply sat on the floor, legs folded under him, leaning forward ever so slightly towards Spock.

The Vulcan raised his brow, clearly surprised, though he would never admit it. Still, after only a moment’s hesitation, he also took his place on the floor. He sat elegantly with his legs crossed, graceful as ever. Jim couldn’t help but sigh.

“Jim,” Spock began.

“Yeah?”

“We have kissed each other.”

The Captain swallowed. He could always trust Spock to be direct.

“Yeah,” he breathed out with a soft laugh. He was still processing it.

“Did you… enjoy it?”

Kirk opened his mouth to reply, but paused. How was he even supposed to describe how much he had enjoyed it? Let alone how he wanted to do it again?

“Spock…” he started. “’Enjoy’ doesn’t begin to describe how good that felt for me.”

The Vulcan nodded, face neutral. He looked no different to how he would if he was cataloguing data about soil composition. Jim felt a string of hurt.

Illogical, he told himself. There was no reason to be hurt. Maybe Spock was also trying to process things?

“I see,” came the thoughtful reply. Spock seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. “I too found the experience rather… pleasurable.”

He briefly brushed his fingers over his lips as though he was reliving that moment.

“Actually, it was quite fascinating.”

Jim’s hurt melted away into a puddle of relief mixed with joy.

Spock liked it. Spock liked the kiss.

“If you would be amenable, I would like to… collect more data.”

“More data,” Jim echoed. He knew what that meant. It meant Spock wanted to kiss him again. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Accepting this, Spock got onto his knees and closed the distance between them. Still kneeling, he reached out to tilt Jim’s head up then bent down a little so their lips could meet. This time, he closed his eyes.

This kiss was softer than the first, more hesitant. Jim held back a bit to let Spock take the lead. He wanted him to be comfortable, to guide the kiss in whatever direction would give him more data.

It started with a brush of lips, then a small amount of pressure. Spock’s lips barely parted, but he did inhale sharply through his nose. He lingered for a moment before pulling away, retreating to where he was sitting before.

“Interesting,” Spock murmured.

“What was interesting about it?” Jim asked, genuinely curious.

“I have noted that the way you engage with me is vastly different to your previous romantic encounters — in as far as I have observed them,” Spock commented.

“How so?” Jim asked, although he knew the answer already.

“You are more reserved with me,” Spock explained. “With previous romantic relationships, you have been bold. You have guided your partner, spoken with a lot of emotion, and sometimes kissed them with more vigour. I have observed less of what humans describe as passion in our encounters.”

Jim’s eyes widened. He had expected something along the lines of him moving quickly with the women he had relationships with in the past, but not this.

“Spock — it’s not a lack of passion!” he quickly replied. “It’s— well—”

He didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like a sap. Of course, Spock waited patiently for him to articulate himself.

With a sigh, Jim continued. “It’s just that I… I like you. A lot. No— Spock, I love you.”

Spock nodded, collecting more data.

“And it’s because I love you that I’m taking this slow. I want this — us —” he gestured to the two of them, “— to work. I don’t want to rush you. I just want us to take our time and to make sure we’re both comfortable.”

Spock raised his eyebrow, not in skepiticism, but in a way that said ‘you have made a good point’.

Jim waited, hazel eyes wide, waiting to see if Spock would say anything.

The Vulcan met his gaze. It was clear he wanted to say something, but he was trying to find the best way to say it.

“Jim?” he spoke after a moment. The Captain looked up at him. “I would like you to teach me more.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to be sit in silence. He wanted to pounce onto Spock — to kiss him with all the hunger, all the pent up need, that had been brewing in him for so long. But he had to take things slow.

“Kiss me as though I am your lover.”

Those quiet words were all it took.

Jim knelt in front of Spock, who sat impeccably, with his legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap. He cupped his lover’s cheeks and tilted his head, crashing his lips down. If passion was what Spock wanted, that was what he would get.

Spock’s back hit the bulkhead with a soft thud, but that didn’t stop Jim. He moved forward so that his knees touched Spock’s ankles, lips claiming Spock’s with a ferocity he didn’t even realise he possessed. One hand found its way to Spock’s sleek black hair, warm fingers threading themselves between the strands. The other was at his chest, ensuring Spock stayed pinned against the wall — just where he wanted him.

After his initial surprise, Spock returned the kiss albeit clumsily. His lips chased after Jim’s every time they pulled away for a split second to breathe, and his hands moved from Jim’s waist to his chest and back down to his hips. Jim’s nails dragged softly against his scalp, making him tremble ever so slightly. It was bliss. Completely and utterly illogical bliss.

When Jim finally pulled back, his hands dropped to his own thighs.

Spock sat back, panting and dishevelled and licking his lips, face flushed green.

The Captain had never seen his First Officer look so undone, yet so beautiful.

“How was that for data collection?” Jim grinned.

It took a moment for Spock to collect himself enough to reply.

“I believe it was insufficient. At least twenty trials are required before data can be deemed reliable.”

“Very well, Mr Spock,” smiled the Captain, knowingly. “You’re the scientist here.”

“I also believe it would be more… efficient… if these trials took place in a more suitable environment. For example…” his voice trailed off as his eyes drifted over to Jim’s bed. “Of course, this would only be for data collection on the human act of kissing — not for anything further.”

Jim reached out and held Spock’s hand. “Of course. I’m always happy to indulge my science officer.”

And with that, he led the Vulcan to his bed.