Star Trek: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 9), eventual Kirk/Spock, Spock/Uhura, R
Title: We Reach Our Apogee Slowly (Part 9)
Author: kowaiyoukai
Rating: R
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 10,207
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment: None! I know there are errors, so please let me know if you see any! Thanks!
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: So there was DISASTER when getting this chapter out. I'm staying at jelost's house for the week, and lo and behold, there's a fucking tornado warning. So this massive storm came and shut the power off for almost thirteen hours, just when I was in the middle of writing the last section of this. Then the power was out for about 14-15 hours, and then when it came back on, the internet was broke. So I had to wait for jelost to get home from work so she could fix it b/c kicking it did nothing and I had no more ideas. AND THEN WHEN I'D FINALLY GOTTEN ALMOST TO THE END OF THIS CHAPTER--Word crashed seven times in ten minutes and I had to write the rest of it in Notepad, and re-write a bunch that Word had made into *'s and boxes. DDDDDDD: Apologies to everybody, but especially to animegirl0087 who bribed me with Star Trek merch to get this part out yesterday AND to nix_this who bribed me with more fanart to get this part out sooner than I did. I AM EPIC FAIL, but it's really not my fault this time! Oh, and in case anyone's curious/counting, I've hit over 100,000 words in my Apogee Word file. A bunch of it hasn't been posted yet, but still... \o/ Also, I really want to write some porn.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Othersides 1 | Part 6a | Part 6b | Part 6c | Part 7 | Part 8
Spock was everything his step-father would hate. Not that he minded. Not that he cared. Because he didn't. But he couldn't help thinking it all the same. Spock was the exact opposite of anyone he would ever consider bringing home only because of the reception they'd get. Spock was not only a man, but also an alien. And a Vulcan at that, and Jim knew what his step-father thought about Vulcans. They looked human enough on the outside, but on the inside they were so different it was disgusting. They could masquerade as human, could pretend to enjoy the company of humans, but they always held themselves to a higher level, and they always came out with logic that defied pure common sense. Even their hearts were literally in the wrong place. Jim could hear his step-father's voice clearly, ranting as always. He cleared his mind to block out the sound and tried to concentrate on what he knew.
He knew being with Spock was what he wanted. He didn't know how he was going to go about starting a romance with the man, since clearly all of his usual ideas would be wasted and probably end up in humiliating failure. He also didn't know that being with another guy was what he wanted. But for some reason, that didn't seem to matter when he was talking about Spock. Spock didn't fall into the same category other guys did. He was completely different in all these new and exciting ways, and it was nearly impossible to conceal his joy every time Jim learned anything more about him. So being with Spock romantically was just completely appealing to Jim in every way. There was nothing about it that seemed wrong to him, and if other people thought it was wrong they could go screw themselves.
But then again, that wasn't entirely true. What worried Jim the most about getting with a guy wasn't really the physical aspect of it. It was more the response he'd get from other people. He knew most people were all right with homosexuality now, but there was no way to be sure about it until it would be too late to write it off as a bad joke. He'd been friends with McCoy for years and he still didn't feel comfortable telling McCoy he might be a tiny bit on the gay side. He didn't want to risk a disaster over something that might not ever happen. He didn't think McCoy would react badly-but then again they had never discussed it before and maybe the fact it had never come up, even in general conversation, was proof enough that McCoy didn't want to talk about it. But what did that mean? They hadn't discussed a lot of topics. For instance, golf. Jim and McCoy had never really sat down and talked about golf. But that didn't mean Jim thought McCoy was anti-golf. It just meant McCoy had no real interest in golf, and neither did Jim, so it wasn't something they talked about. But if Jim suddenly developed an intense, burning interest in golf, he was sure McCoy would listen to him. Well, mostly sure. Worst case scenario, McCoy would laugh at him and tell him to go bother somebody else. Which, come to think of it, was exactly the problem.
Then there was Spock. Who knew what he thought of homosexuality, or what Vulcans in general thought of it? Jim hadn't given it much consideration because there was nothing he could do to change Spock's mind either way, but a lot of the time Spock worked under rules that Jim was just beginning to understand. If a culture was based on ignoring emotions, how much were they supposed to ignore them? Entirely, or just enough that outsiders thought they were unemotional? How emotional did Vulcans get, when they weren't being observed by members of other species? And what about if an emotion was so intense that it was impossible to ignore? What would be more logical-ignoring something you desired or accepting it? And what if what you desired was illogical to begin with? Was it logical to ignore an emotion that was logically illogical?
… See, this was why Jim didn't give the idea too much time to bang around inside his head and become more and more jumbled. What he knew was fairly simple. He'd keep it that way if he could. All he knew was that Spock was dating Uhura, apparently now because he wanted to rather than just going along with their deal, and that Spock had never expressed an opinion one way or the other on a relationship with Jim-except for way back in their first week on the Enterprise together when Spock had called Jim his friend. Jim had been happy to accept that at the time, and he still thrilled about it, really. Now, though, he wondered if there was even a way to bring up what Spock thought about him without seeming unhinged. He'd have to think of something to say soon, though. He'd never been patient. Not even when it mattered.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sick bay was the last place Jim wanted to visit. He still hadn't come up with a good way to talk to McCoy about everything he'd been panicking about, and he knew visiting sick bay was like asking for McCoy to grill him. But he'd gotten notice that Scotty had been injured fixing something or other in engineering. No matter how much Jim wanted to avoid McCoy at the moment, he wasn't going to insult Scotty by not paying him a visit. He'd already been assured the injury was a minor one-a burn along his forearm that would heal in a day or two-but Scotty was both his Chief Engineer and a personal friend. Jim was going to visit him even if it meant sprinting out of sick bay and down the corridor afterwards to avoid McCoy.
Luckily, Scotty was sitting on the bed closest to the door. Jim took this as a lucky break and strode over to him, shaking his head.
"What did you do?" Jim asked, sighing.
"It's not entirely my fault this time, Captain," Scotty replied. "I found out the hard way that one of the grates covering a metal pipe was loose." He held his arm out, burn side up, and Jim grimaced at the harsh blistering skin.
"Ugh," Jim muttered, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. "You're lucky Bones knows what he's doing, otherwise you'd have serious problems."
"Well, I like to think of it as a learning opportunity," Scotty said. "Now I can safely say that it would be a bad idea to burn myself again."
Jim grinned. "Good thing, then."
"I think so," Scotty agreed.
"So why was the grate loose?" Jim asked. "That's unusual." Scotty looked towards the wall and then briefly around the room, going for casual but coming off as obviously avoiding the question. "Scotty."
"Well," Scotty said, scrunching his nose up and pursing his lips. "The important thing is it's fixed now."
"Scotty," Jim repeated, hoping his tone gave off how unhappy he was with that answer.
"Don't worry about it," Scotty said, waving a hand at Jim. "I took care of it."
Jim smiled despite himself as a thought struck him. "Are you protecting someone?"
Scotty scoffed at him, waving his uninjured hand at Jim for the second time in less than thirty seconds. "That's ridiculous talk, Captain. Riiidiculous."
"Uh huh," Jim said, grinning. "Tell me who screwed up and we'll pretend you didn't, how's that?"
"Look, it's seriously not a problem," Scotty said, shrugging. "Just one of the newbies who thought there were only two safety locks instead of three." He waved his burned arm at Jim. "She knows now."
Jim rolled his eyes. "I guess so."
He didn't want to press Scotty on the identity of the cadet because clearly Scotty didn't want any of his subordinates to get into trouble with the Captain if he could help it. Also, Jim knew Scotty was right. Whoever this cadet was, she definitely was feeling guilty about causing an injury due to her mistake. Jim knew she wouldn't be repeating the same error. The real question was, would she make any more mistakes that would get other people injured?
Engineering was a tough department. Maybe the toughest one in the whole ship. They were in charge of keeping everything running-everything. Lights, turbo lift, life support, doors, garbage disposal chutes, engines, wall communicators, transporter, water filtration-all of that and more was up to Engineering to maintain. Sure, Maintenance did a fantastic job fixing the small problems and most of the time one specific piece of equipment was at least under the jurisdiction of two departments to care for, but when things truly broke down it was almost always up to Engineering to get them running again. All of that meant that not only was Engineering the toughest and perhaps most important department to work in, but also that the crew members in Engineering were often over-stressed and under-appreciated.
It would be difficult for any new officers with no experience to get thrown into Engineering, even if they had been trained exceptionally well. Usually new officers were spread out among several starships so that a group of more experienced people could watch over them and give them the individual attention they needed. Of course thanks to the Nero incident, Starfleet was short on starships and officers. Jim knew the Enterprise wasn't the only ship with too many novices on board, but that didn't make the situation any better. Shit, Jim himself was a novice at command. The only officers with any sort of previous experience were Spock and Scotty, with McCoy coming in just after them. Nearly everyone else needed to be watched over by people who knew what they were doing because, even though the majority of his officers had been well trained and would have graduated without problems, Jim knew that nobody knew what they were doing one hundred percent of the time.
Still, having an experienced set of eyes in each department was a luxury Jim didn't have. There weren't many actions he could take to try and fix the problem, but he'd start with the simplest one and move on from there until everyone had really settled in to their positions.
"All right, I'm not going to force you to tell me," Jim said. Scotty looked relieved. "But," Jim said, and Scotty immediately went back to being worried. "I want you to start having weekly drills for everyone in your department. Make up problems and get them to fix them, explain to them the most common mistakes, that sort of thing."
"Captain, they're already working too much," Scotty said, frowning. "I've got people doing twelve and fifteen hour days."
"You think I don't already know that?" Jim snapped.
Scotty's reply was immediate and sincere. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to imply-"
Jim ran a hand over his face. "No, it's okay, sorry." He shook his head, frowning. He shouldn't get angry when Scotty was just looking out for the officers in his department, but this wasn't a new complaint and there was still nothing he could do to fix it. "Look, every department is short-staffed. There's nothing any of us can do about that until we get more officers, and who knows when that'll be." Jim sighed, rolling his shoulders tiredly. "Right now what we can do is work on training the officers we have so that, when we do get new people, we'll be better able to deal with them. Besides, it's not like the drills need to be long. Don't let them last for longer than half an hour, and make sure you cover the basics first. Safety protocol, definitely, then go into whatever other mistakes you're seeing a lot of."
"Yes, sir," Scotty said, face blank. "I know you're dealing with a lot. I shouldn't have said-"
"Me?" Jim repeated, waving Scotty's apology away with a careless gesture. "All I have to do is sit on my chair all day long. You're the one who's running around burning yourself on loose grates."
"Ah," Scotty said, shrugging. "It builds character."
"Maybe that's why everyone's been visiting me so often," McCoy said. Jim turned around, surprised, and saw McCoy walking towards them, holding a vial and some bandages. "You'd better watch out, Jim. This ship's going to explode from how much character the crew has."
"If the ship explodes, I'm blaming Scotty," Jim said, jerking a thumb behind him. "He knows that already, though."
"Okay, ha ha," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "That was only that one time, all right? Why everyone's got to keep bringing that up, I don't know."
"Well, guess I'll see you two later," Jim said. He started to leave but McCoy grabbed his arm.
"Why don't you stay a while," McCoy stated in a tone that clearly indicated it was not a request.
"Oh, you know, busy with being the Captain," Jim replied, laughing nervously. "Got to go… fire somebody."
"You just told me all you do is sit around in your chair," Scotty said.
"Do you want that raise or not?" Jim asked, not even looking back at him in case McCoy accidentally gave Jim a chance to make a run for it.
"He's a very busy man, Bones," Scotty said, frowning at McCoy. "Leave the poor guy alone."
"Do you want that burn healed or not?" McCoy asked, still staring at Jim challengingly.
Scotty paused. "I think I'm going to sit here and wait this one out."
McCoy let go of Jim's arm and said, "I'm going to take care of Scotty's arm. Then we're going to talk." He stabbed a finger in Jim's chest. "If you run out that door, I will chase you down and drag your ass back here."
He would do it, too. Jim knew McCoy wouldn't give a shit about running after him, probably while yelling embarrassing personal information for everyone else to hear. Or, at the very least, he'd stride after Jim and corner him in his room or on the bridge. In another situation, it'd be funny. If Jim was watching McCoy harass someone else, it'd be hysterical. But as it was Jim just felt resigned. McCoy was going to force him to talk, or at least to stumble around groping for something to say. There wasn't a whole lot Jim could do about it. He didn't really want to avoid McCoy any more than he already had. That ability to rely on his best friend through any situation was something he valued. Either McCoy would understand or…
When he realized there was no acceptable way to finish that sentence, the decision was already half-made. "Fine," Jim mumbled, feeling like a petulant child. McCoy glared at him. "What? I'm waiting."
McCoy eyed him suspiciously. But his medical training won out, as Jim knew it would, and he turned to Scotty to put some cream and spray on his burn. Oddly enough, the option of running was immediately dismissed. It popped in Jim's head right away because he had the chance, a clear path to the door, and McCoy was distracted. But if he did that, he'd only make the situation worse later. He was going to have to deal with the fact that McCoy and him were going to talk, and that the talking would most likely involve Jim pouring his heart out like old bathwater and hoping McCoy didn't mind getting his shoes wet.
Minutes later Scotty was off, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine. Jim couldn't believe there had been a time where people had to wait hours, or even days, to get medical treatment. He couldn't imagine what those people had to go through. It was bad enough waiting the few minutes for normal medical care.
McCoy was standing still, waiting for Jim to make the first move-probably to make some kind of comment that would give McCoy something to go on. Well, Jim wasn't going to give him anything of the sort. If McCoy wanted to talk about something, he could damn well bring it up himself.
"So…" Jim began, trailing off. McCoy looked at him, obviously waiting for him to say something else. It took a few seconds for a topic to pop into his head. "How do you feel about… golf?" Jim asked, tone hopeful.
McCoy stared at him incredulously. "I don't give a damn about golf."
"Oh," Jim replied, shoulders slumping. Well then.
"Jim, what the hell is going on?" McCoy asked.
"What do you mean?" Jim hoped McCoy would drop it because he really wasn't sure what to say if he didn't.
"You're acting strange," McCoy said, shaking his head.
"You always say that," Jim said.
"Strange even for you," McCoy clarified.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim replied. He hadn't been acting that oddly. Besides, what was he supposed to do? Completely ignore this whole mid-twenties crisis he was having?
"I don't understand why you won't tell me," McCoy said. His eyes had softened but his stance and tone were still annoyed.
Jim shoved his hands in his pockets. "Won't tell you what?"
McCoy gave him a look. "What's bothering you."
"Okay," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "And once again, what are you talking about?"
McCoy's jaw clenched. Jim didn't want to start a fight, but he couldn't be sure what McCoy knew and what he had only guessed. Plus, he didn't want to start spouting out anything that really wasn't necessary to admit just yet.
"Are you really pulling this crap with me?" McCoy asked, eyes narrowed. "Because you know I don't react well to bullshit."
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," Jim stated, shaking his head. "What, you think I'm psychic now? If you want to ask me about something, just do it."
McCoy practically growled. "You're being a fucking child," he snapped. Jim took a step back before he realized he'd done so. "If I have to call you out, I'm going to be so, so irritated that I'll find an excuse to give you a shot every day for the next year."
Jim knew it was a lie, just a bluff meant to get him to start talking. Oddly, when McCoy got this angry, Jim found himself able to think clearer. He wasn't quite ready to tell McCoy just yet, not only because of what the consequences would be, but also because McCoy didn't seem ready to have this conversation either. Besides, sick bay was always staffed by at least one or two nurses and had frequent visits from the crew. Was this really the right location for what promised to be a serious discussion, or at least a discussion that Jim wanted to remain private?
"All right, calm down," Jim said, holding up a hand in between them and lowering it slowly towards the ground. "How about I meet up with you later?"
"When later?" McCoy asked, frowning. "If you're trying to get out of this-"
"I'm not, I swear," Jim said. "It's just…" He gestured around the room at the nurses and the three crewmen getting treatment. "You know."
McCoy's face softened. "Yeah, okay. Fine. But then tonight."
"Yeah," Jim agreed. "I'll come back tonight, when everybody's gone."
"It's always dead around two," McCoy stated.
Jim scratched at his nose. "Two. Got it." He let his hand drop and shoved it into his pocket. "Are we done now?"
"Yeah, we're done," McCoy said.
"Good," Jim replied. "Because I've got important work to do. Can't keep a ship running if the Captain's slacking off, you know."
"Really?" McCoy asked, nodding as if in incredibly deep thought. "You could've fooled me."
"I didn't though," Jim said, pointedly.
"You weren't fooling anybody," McCoy said, shaking his head. "But you would never have fooled me."
Jim left with the thought that they both knew they were talking about something entirely different. Not that it mattered much. There'd be time enough later to talk about what he really didn't want to.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was difficult, to say the least, to deal with some of the crew. Despite being both inexperienced and nervous, some of them also had other quirks that Spock had no idea how to deal with. Some people stood up straighter when he spoke to them and were silent for the entire time. Others looked around, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable when dealing with commanding officers. A few people smiled while a few frowned; some were casual and others were formal; some tried to lengthen the conversation while others tried to shorten it.
It was such circumstantial, odd behavior that Spock didn't know how to deal with. There was no one right way to address the crew members, but there were plenty of wrong ways. Some days it seemed like all he did was discover more wrong ways to talk to people.
Luckily, today was not that kind of day. Everything progressed more smoothly than it usually did, which was most likely in direct correlation with Wilshaw getting kicked off the ship. Jim hadn't ever shown that side of his Captaincy before-the side that Spock knew would eventually lead him to become extraordinary. The crew had received an unwelcome surprise when they had realized that Jim wasn't actually their best friend. He was their Captain, and that meant he could be as nice or as unyielding as he wanted to be without having to explain or apologize to anyone.
Spock didn't have that problem. No one had ever mistaken him for a friend instead of the First Officer. There were a few exceptions to that rule, but for the most part everyone knew their place when dealing with him.
Chekov was one of those exceptions. He was currently sitting across from Spock in one of the meeting rooms. They had just finished a meeting with all the officers in the science department. There had been some general concern that certain jobs were being given to the same officers when they were supposed to be going through rotation. Spock had reassigned a few people and informed a few others that since he was the head of the department, they didn't actually get a say in how it was run. Overall, it had been a normal meeting with nothing to stand out, except that Chekov was loitering afterwards and looking at Spock as if he had something he really wanted to say. For the life of him, Spock would never understand why humans didn't just say what was on their minds as opposed to hoping it would become blindingly apparent simply by their stances and fervent looks.
"Yes, Mr. Chekov?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, Mr. Spock, I didn't see you there," Chekov said, still staring right at him.
"I see," Spock stated.
"But since we're both here, together, at the same time, I was thinking maybe we could talk," Chekov said. "Sir." He started looking shiftily around, as if he expected someone else to pop out of the background and interfere.
Spock quite hoped someone would interfere, since Spock wasn't sure what Chekov wanted and was absolutely sure he wanted no part of it. "You may proceed," Spock said.
"Thanks, sir," Chekov replied. "I was wondering, um…" He trailed off, laughing nervously, and then stopped suddenly. "How are things with the Captain?" Spock's eyebrow rose even further. "I mean, you two are, um, doing well?"
"The Captain and I are both fine," Spock replied, unsure exactly why Chekov was asking him this now.
"Oh, good," Chekov said, letting out a long breath. "I was worried because, well, you know how he's been acting. But that's good, that everything's fine. Sir."
"Yes," Spock stated. He wasn't entirely sure what Chekov was referring to and he was completely lost on his overall point. But he had noticed Jim acting a bit unusually since they had gotten back from Lambda Four. It might be a bigger problem than he had thought it was if even the crew was noticing. He'd wait a few more days and see if Jim's behavior continued or not. It could just be that he was over-stressed. Maybe Spock could do something to help him relax-take on more shifts, perhaps. "Is that all, Mr. Chekov?"
"Well, sir, I just wanted to say that, um, I think that it's great that the Captain didn't stand for that kind of thing," Chekov said. At Spock's blank look, he continued, "I mean Wilshaw, sir. He deserved what he got."
"I am sure the Captain will appreciate your support, however unnecessary it is," Spock stated. Jim could do whatever he wanted to, regardless of what the crew thought. It was good to know that there were officers who agreed with him, though. Jim would probably enjoy hearing about that.
"Um… okay," Chekov replied. "I'll just be going then. Sir."
Spock watched Chekov leave and wondered exactly what it was he'd wanted to talk about. Human behavior was constantly becoming more involved. Spock might need to start collecting his mental notes into something more solid. He wasn't sure he'd be able to understand all of the complexities any other way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Uhura was probably one of the only people Sarek would approve of Spock having a relationship with. She was intelligent and able to engage in deep theoretical conversation with him, but at the same time she had a strong emotional side that almost always came out when they were together. She was unlike his mother, who had a quiet strength about her and who had been able to love unconditionally with little fuss. However, Spock had never encountered someone like his mother, and Uhura had enough positive traits and merits of her own that the lack of similar features wasn't an issue. She was human, of course, with all that implied, but the fact that Sarek married a human was proof to Spock that his father was open-minded enough to accept inter-species marriages.
Still, Spock wasn't sure Uhura was the right person for him. He had already decided he would withhold judgment until the end of their arrangement. He would abide by that decision regardless of his emotions, which were only counter-productive to making an informed decision. However, it was obvious that emotions played a role in determining romantic relationships, and it would illogical to completely ignore them. Spock was sure that thought was due solely to his human half, since most Vulcans would have cringed at the idea of admitting they even had emotions. But Spock was learning to accept both of his halves, even though they almost never agreed with each other.
That was entirely the problem when he thought about romance. Vulcans and humans viewed the matter on two entirely different levels, and Spock just wasn't sure which one he agreed with. There was logic and the collected knowledge of millions of people in both viewpoints. Emotions were of course strongest when dealing in this matter, but emotion was a fickle thing. Even when a person felt something incredibly strongly, there was always the possibility that it would fade over time or change into an entirely new feeling. This was more common in humans than in Vulcans simply because, by the time most Vulcans allowed themselves to submit to an emotion, that emotion was so strong and had been ongoing for so long that it would be illogical to continue denying it. However humans were able to give in to such strong emotion earlier, thereby eliminating years of internal debate and stress.
The problem was one Spock had no answer to. Thankfully, he didn't need one. His feelings towards Uhura were not what he would call romantic, and even though he would wait to judge what the outcome of their relationship would be, a part of him already knew there was no feasible way his emotions could alter that drastically in less than four months. Spock was pragmatic, careful, and hesitant when dealing with his emotions. He was willing to work on accepting them more than he had been because a life with humans seemed to demand that. However, he wasn't willing to jump into anything and he certainly wasn't willing to ignore his feelings when they were relevant to the situation. His emotions were immediate but he was slow to accept and understand them, so that it took him far longer than the average human to reach conclusions that dealt with emotions.
He didn't particularly mind giving himself the time he needed to sort through his feelings and then to decide whether or not to act on them or allow them to be noticed by others. The other humans he had come into contact with all seemed put-off by his method, with the noticeable exception of Jim who was an exception to everything. Everyone else seemed to have a difficult time grasping that Spock simply wasn't comfortable showing his emotions. He was trying to become accustomed to the idea. Eventually, he thought he would manage to show emotions without feeling inherently wrong. It was just a matter of slowly teaching himself that repressing his emotions was not the only acceptable way of dealing with them. He knew it would take some time, since he was working against years of incredibly strict and thorough repression. Still, it would happen if he wanted it to. The only thing left was to decide if the human way of dealing emotions really was better than the Vulcan way or not. Unfortunately, there was no precedent to study or learn from. He'd have to figure this problem out on his own.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Going to sick bay that night was a trial of self-endurance. Jim knew he'd agreed, and he knew McCoy would be furious if he backed out. That didn't seem to have any effect at all on the little voice screaming at him that he was being an idiot, that he was about to lose his best friend, and that any rationalizations he was making were just excuses that he could comfort himself with later, after everything had been destroyed.
Luckily his panic had induced a plan of sorts. He could start McCoy off slowly, just by broaching the topic, and maybe he could get McCoy to focus more on the general idea of dating guys than on the idea of Jim being in semi-love with one particular guy who perhaps didn't need to be mentioned at all. In fact, the more Jim thought about it the more he was sure he could keep McCoy off-balanced long enough to satisfy his apparently ridiculous need for information and yet also keep all of the most important details to himself. It was a great plan. The problem with it was that he was dealing with McCoy, and so of course things got turned around and all screwed up the minute he got there.
"So, what's on your mind?" McCoy asked, patting a bed invitingly.
Jim shook his head, preferring to stand in case he needed to pace or run or attempt to fidget unnoticeably. "Well, there's this thing."
"Thing?" McCoy repeated.
"Yeah. I've got a…" Jim hesitated, trying to come up with another word and failing miserably. "Thing for…" He paused again, deciding that it was probably better to be subtle. "Somebody."
"Wait, let me get this straight," McCoy said. He pressed his fingers into his forehead briefly before giving Jim a look that consisted of one raised eyebrow, a half-curled lip, and a whole lot of horrified disbelief. "You want me to give you dating advice?"
After considering all possible responses, Jim settled for the simplest. "Yeah. That's what I want."
McCoy threw a hand up in the air and made a sweeping gesture. "Jim, you're the biggest player in the fleet." He let his hand drop and then narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Are you mocking me? Is that what this is?"
"No," Jim protested. He shrugged. "I just need advice from someone I trust."
"But why do you need advice at all? Every girl you've ever met has practically thrown herself at you."
"Well…" Jim hesitated. He knew he'd have to come clean about this part of the problem, but McCoy was a friend. A good friend, and Jim had no idea how he'd react. Still, McCoy was open-minded about plenty of other things, and it would be a mistake to assume everyone shared his step-father's prejudices. He'd known this part would be coming. He just hadn't expected it to come now. "That's the problem."
"What's the problem? That girls throw themselves at you all the damn time?" McCoy snorted. "Yes, Jim, I can see how you'd have a real problem with that."
"No," Jim said, then groaned. "I meant the girls part."
McCoy held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Now, Jim, hold on and just listen to me for a damn minute. I don't have enough experience with men to tell you how to do it. I mean it. You'd be better off asking someone else, maybe Chekov or Sulu. No, wait, Scotty, he's probably done it a few times."
It struck Jim suddenly that McCoy hadn't even paused. His response had been honest and immediate, without even a trace of surprise or unease. There were only two possible reasons for that-either McCoy was secretly hiding a life of homosexual experimentation from him, or McCoy had already known what Jim was going to say before the conversation had even started. The second explanation was much more likely than the first, since besides being incredibly hypocritical the first was just ludicrous for Jim to try and imagine. But the end result was the same.
Relief flooded through Jim. He'd been so worried that McCoy's immediate reaction would be negative, and instead all he got was the same tone McCoy always used for everything. It was like he didn't even care that Jim was talking about liking another guy. Jim had never heard of such a blasé reaction to homosexuality before. He'd known people were open-minded about it, but he hadn't known he'd get a reaction that was so completely… normal.
"You're not upset, or disgusted, or anything?" The words were out of Jim's mouth before he could think twice about them. It might be an odd question at this point, but he needed to know. He didn't want to assume McCoy was fine with everything only to find out later the exact opposite was true.
McCoy looked surprised and a bit offended. "Why the hell would you think that?" He waved a hand to silence whatever reply Jim would have made. "Listen, Jim. I know your step-father was an asshole, but come on. You need to get over it." He stopped short, frowning. "I didn't mean it that way, but it's the truth. It's the twenty-third century. People are more accepting now than they've ever been, you know that."
"I know," Jim said. When McCoy made a face, Jim repeated, "I know, all right?"
"Then stop worrying about it." McCoy took a breath and continued, "I know it was shit. And that sucks. It really does. But eventually you need to-"
"Bones," Jim interrupted, loudly. "Thanks, but really, just… not now, all right?" He smiled a little, rolling his eyes. "One crisis at a time, how about that?"
McCoy frowned. "Being gay isn't a crisis, Jim. It's not something you should be stressed out over."
"Gay?" Jim repeated, voice squeaking. "I'm not gay. Not even close. I'm just…"
McCoy gave Jim a blatantly disbelieving look. "Hm?" he muttered, looking inquiringly at Jim. "Just what? Attracted to guys?"
"Well… yeah," Jim said, frowning.
"That means you're gay," McCoy said, speaking very slowly with equal importance on every word.
"But not every guy," Jim said, quickly. "Just this one in particular."
"Oh, come on," McCoy scoffed. "I've seen you checking out guys before. Are you seriously going to try and give me that shit now?"
"You have not," Jim said, reverting back to a child on a playground. "I mean, I've never checked out a guy in my life! Except for this one. But he doesn't count!"
"You are going to give me this shit, aren't you?" McCoy asked, sighing.
"It's just that I don't see why liking one guy has to make me gay," Jim said. He began pacing in front of McCoy, just a few steps in either direction before turning on his heel to do it again. "I mean, I've been with tons of chicks. Loads of them. That's got to count for something, right?"
"First of all, if you don't stop pacing I am going to kill you with my bare hands," McCoy said. Jim stopped in front of him and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers anxiously against his arm. "Second, you haven't been with that many girls."
"I have," Jim said, affronted.
"Third," McCoy continued, ignoring him, "having sex with someone doesn't mean you're attracted to them. And besides, gay people can have sex with members of the opposite sex. So even if you do have sex with thousands of girls, it doesn't make you straight. Or even bisexual."
"No, but I did like having sex with some of those girls," Jim said, tapping his foot nervously against the floor. "So at least that means I'm, what, an experimenting heterosexual?"
"No," McCoy said, flatly. "It means you're bisexual. Or just a very confused gay man."
"Well, I'm not confused about anything," Jim replied, quickly. "So maybe bi. I could accept bi."
"All right," McCoy said, shrugging. "Bi, then. Which still means you like guys, by the way."
"Only some-only one, one guy!" Jim protested, flinging his hands through the air to try and get McCoy to understand his epic mistake. "That barely counts at all!"
McCoy shook his head. "It counts enough. And the fact that you're arguing this so much is ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with being gay or bi." He paused in a way that had Jim immediately worried about what he would say next. "You do know that, right?"
"Don't be an asshole," Jim said, scowling. "Of course I know that."
"Then what's the problem?" McCoy asked.
"Nothing, there's no problem," Jim replied.
"Well, that's a relief," McCoy said. "And here I'd thought you were freaking out for the past two weeks."
"I'm not freaking out," Jim said, defensive and slowly realizing McCoy was just as sharp as he'd always been. He wondered how he'd forgotten. The Sudden Spock Syndrome might have had something to do with it.
"Good," McCoy said. "Then just go to this guy and use your charm. I'm sure it'll work as well as it always does," McCoy said. He made a dismissive motion. "Now leave me in peace to work."
Jim groaned. McCoy was controlling this conversation way too much, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. "You don't understand, this isn't just any guy!"
"Oh dear God," McCoy said. "I'm about to be subjected to the rant of a twelve-year-old girl with a crush, aren't I?"
Jim glared at him. "Don't be an idiot." He shrugged and said, "It's just that he's… well, very different from anyone else I've ever met. And I'm not sure how to approach him without accidentally, you know, scaring him off or offending him or something."
"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're a guy too?" McCoy looked at Jim as if he expecting to have to yell at him some more.
"No," Jim said. He scrunched his nose up and shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe a little. But I'm not really sure if this guy cares about that at all." Jim waved a hand in the air quickly, indicating just how clueless he was about what to do. "Like I said, he'd different."
"How different can he be?" McCoy asked. "All men are men, Jim. They're all after the same thing." He paused and shook his head, looking horrified at himself. "Good God, I sound like my mother."
"Look like her, too," Jim said, grinning. "But this guy really is different."
"Okay," McCoy said. "How bad is it?" Jim shook his head, confused. "Have you written on small pieces of scrap paper ‘do you like me? check yes or no'?" Jim narrowed his eyes. "Have you doodled your name and his with hearts all over?"
Jim bit his lower lip, trying to keep from smiling. "How many hearts does there have to be for it to count?"
"Only one, Jim," McCoy said, seriously. "One heart is enough." He paused, and Jim tried to keep himself from taking anything too serious out of that last comment. "Especially if it's outlined in glitter pen."
"Screw you," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "I'd never use glitter pen."
"Right, then." McCoy sat on the nearest hospital bed and gestured to Jim. "Who is it? Do I know him?"
"Uh," Jim said, stalling. It seemed obvious in retrospect, but he hadn't actually thought that he'd have to tell McCoy who it was he was interested in. He'd thought he could keep the conversation general and safe. Not that he was ashamed of liking Spock-quite the opposite, actually. Spock was one of the few beings Jim had encountered who was actually good. Spock wanted people to be happy, he wanted peace, he wanted to do the right thing, and he always wanted to be respectable and honorable. But with McCoy sitting there staring at him, it was hard to figure out just what to say to explain his feelings for his logical, unflappable Vulcan First Officer.
"Oh, come on," McCoy said, frowning. "Did you actually think you could come here for advice on your gay love drama and not tell me who the other man is?"
"Yes?"
McCoy glared at him.
"No, I mean, psh, no… obviously," Jim said, hoping he didn't sound too awkward. He sighed. "Look, you can't tell anyone else about this, all right? It's bad enough knowing you're going to know."
"Will you just get on with it?!" McCoy shouted. "I'm a doctor, not a matchmaker, for God's sake. I'm not getting paid to sit here and help you with your love life."
"Spock."
"What?" McCoy asked, looking oddly resigned. "What about him?"
"It's Spock," Jim said quietly.
McCoy stared at him for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. Jim glared at him as he laughed so hard he had to hold onto the edge of the hospital bed for support. McCoy's chuckles echoed through the room, multiplying them, and if he didn't stop laughing soon Jim was going to punch him.
"Are you done?" Jim asked.
McCoy licked his lips and nodded, swiping a hand across his eyes to get rid of the moisture that had collected there. He took a second to compose himself before he got off the hospital bed and walked to stand in front of Jim.
"What?" Jim asked, leaning backwards a bit.
McCoy stared at him seriously before smacking him over the head. Jim scowled and clutched at the pain.
"What the hell?!" Jim shouted, hissing. "I'm your commanding officer, you can't do that to me!"
"Are you insane?!" McCoy shook his head and took a few steps backwards, throwing his hands up in the air. "Spock? Spock?!"
Jim narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"He's a pointy-eared bastard, that's what that means," McCoy said.
"He's not," Jim protested, already regretting he'd said anything.
"He is and you know it. That's why you're worried."
"You're wrong," Jim said. "He's not like that."
"Think what you want. It doesn't change facts."
"You know what? Forget it," Jim said. He shook his head and turned around. "I don't even know why I bothered talking to you."
McCoy strode forward to grab Jim's arm, effectively stopping him from leaving. "You bothered because I'm your best friend and the only person on this ship who's known you since you entered Starfleet."
"Yeah, well, I guess I screwed up," Jim said. "Because you're not helping. At all."
"Look, I know what you're trying to say," McCoy said. "I mean, I've seen you with him. I'm not blind. And maybe I thought…" He sighed and shook his head once, decisively. "But you need to get over it."
"I don't know what you-"
"This thing you're feeling? It's not going to turn out how you want it to," McCoy said. He released Jim's arm. "Spock isn't the kind of guy who would sleep with you just because you're curious about it."
"It's not like that," Jim said, frowning. "Why are you being this way?"
"Jim, with you it's always like that," McCoy said. "And you need to remember it."
"It is not," Jim stated. He was more than a little hurt than McCoy thought he was a whore. "Sleeping around with a few people doesn't make me a slut, Bones."
"Well, no," McCoy agreed. "But you've never had a serious relationship before. And you're only just now wondering about guys." He ran a hand through his hair. "What, you think your first time with a guy is going to be more than just curiosity?"
"Yeah," Jim said, challenging. "I do."
"You don't know that," McCoy said. "You might try it and hate it. Or you might learn something you didn't realize would be involved. And you've only ever slept with people and then left them."
"Not with him," Jim said. "With Spock, it'd be different."
"You said that about nearly every girl you've slept with in the past three years!"
Jim raised his chin. "I'm a different person now," he said. "Captain of the Enterprise. I can tell the difference between a bit of lust and the real thing, Bones."
McCoy was silent for a moment. "Is that what you think? That you'd have the ‘real thing' with Spock?"
"I know it," Jim said.
"You can't be sure," McCoy said. "And if things went badly, he'd be the one to leave the ship. He's an asshole, but he's a good First Officer. It'd be a shame to lose him over something like this."
Jim opened his mouth to retort, but he found he had nothing to say. After a few moments, he swallowed and said, "If I thought this was a passing thing, I wouldn't even have come to you about it. I'd have kept quiet until it passed, you know that."
"I know," McCoy said. "But you're still young, Jim. You don't realize what can happen, even when you think you're in love."
"Yeah, ‘cause you're so over the hill yourself, grandpa," Jim replied.
"I'm older than you," McCoy stated. "And old enough to know what I'm talking about. You think I didn't love my ex-wife?"
"Bones, come on," Jim said, shoulders slumping. "I know you loved her."
"You're damn right I loved her," McCoy said. "That's why I married her. But things still fell apart."
"So what are you saying?" Jim asked, frowning. "You expect me to just give up before I've even tried?"
"No, I expect you to think it through," McCoy said. "There's other factors involved with everybody, and when it's someone you work with, that's a whole other set of problems." He sighed. "There are always going to be problems with anybody, you know that. I'm not telling you anything new here."
"Yeah, I know," Jim agreed. "But that's why you work at it, if you really want it, right?"
"There are some people who just don't work together," McCoy replied.
"Spock and I work together," Jim said. "We get along great."
"Now," McCoy said. "What about when you tell him? He's dating Uhura, so I doubt he's going to be thrilled about this news."
"Tell him?" Jim repeated, eyes widening. His shoved his hands in his pockets. "Uhura's not a problem, he's breaking up with her soon, but…" McCoy snorted at Jim's response and Jim frowned at him, already knowing what McCoy thought about his answer. "That doesn't matter, okay? The Uhura thing will work itself out. But tell him, I mean, I don't know if I'm going to…"
"So you love him but you're not going to tell him?" McCoy asked.
"I… I don't know if I love him," Jim replied.
"All the more reason to stay out of it, then."
"But I think about him all the time," Jim continued, ignoring McCoy's response. "I look for him when I walk into a room. I mean, when he's at my side, I feel good, and when he's not, I miss him. It's weird. I've never thought those things about anyone before. I mean, never."
"Jim," McCoy said, sighing. "You just said you didn't know if you were in love."
"Well… I don't," Jim replied.
"That little speech sounds like you are," McCoy stated.
Jim shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't think I should throw the word around. Especially not when I'm talking about him. It just… doesn't seem right."
McCoy gave Jim a long, searching look before briefly closing his eyes and throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, fine. I get it. You're serious about this and nothing I say is going to change your mind."
"Yeah," Jim replied, grinning.
"I still don't know what you want me to do, exactly. It's not like I'm friends with him or anything," McCoy said. He grimaced and continued, "You want me to put in a good word, is that it? Give him a few clues? Say ‘Mr. Spock, here's the medical override code to get into the Captain's room in the middle of the night, just in case'?"
Jim looked horrified. "Bones, I swear, if you do that, I will kill you."
McCoy looked equally horrified. "Believe me, I won't. Actually, I think I may have to go throw up."
Jim shook his head. "It's not that bad, really." He paused. "Is it?"
McCoy gave him a look. "Of all the people you could have chosen, it had to be him."
"It's not like you choose these things," Jim replied, slightly offended. "It just sort of happened."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," McCoy responded. "Love is blind, and all of that nonsense. What did you want from me, anyway?"
"Me?" Jim asked. "You're the one who forced me to come here."
"Only because you needed to," McCoy said. "So what was it?"
"I don't know," Jim said. "I guess just to talk."
"We talked," McCoy pointed out.
"So you're off the hook," Jim replied.
"Thank God," McCoy said. "I don't think I can take this much gay drama in one sitting."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two days later, Uhura was busy working two consecutive shifts which left Spock with some unexpected free time. The majority of his off-duty time was spent with Uhura now, thanks to his resolve to give that relationship a fair chance. He didn't exactly enjoy spending time with her. Often, that time was divided almost evenly between Uhura attempting to make small talk or sexual advances at him and Spock attempting to understand what she was trying to say. He still had no clue why humans felt a need to be so physical all the time. Uhura apparently wanted to transplant herself into Spock's body. There were lines Spock would not cross with her because of his discomfort, but then there were points he had to concede if he was going to give her an honest chance. Kissing was acceptable as long as she didn't shove her tongue into his mouth. The first time she'd done so, Spock had almost bitten it off in shock. Hugging briefly was also fine. Holding hands was out of the question. Uhura thankfully had done her research on Vulcan culture and understood why Spock refused to participate in what most humans considered a small gesture. Still, all the research in the world wasn't going to help her if Spock wasn't that attracted to her.
So Spock was extremely relieved to have time away from her. Normally he would have preferred spending the time alone, either meditating or studying, but he hadn't spoken to Jim for a reason unrelated to work in a few days. Missing someone was an odd sensation for him, but Spock immediately realized what he was feeling and didn't mind it. Jim had an important place in Spock's life as his best, if not only, friend. Wanting to spend time with a friend was normal behavior in both Vulcan and human cultures. Accepting that he wanted to see a friend wasn't emotional-it was logical.
Jim was proving to be rather difficult to hunt down, though. After checking the bridge, the mess hall, and Jim's favorite recreation room, the only other option was his quarters. If Jim wasn't in his quarters, Spock would give up and spend the evening alone. He wasn't too keen on searching the ship for hours on end on a night meant for relaxing.
Spock knocked on Jim's door and it slid open, revealing a somewhat messy and wide-eyed Captain.
"What?" Jim asked, blinking at Spock. "Did something happen?"
"No," Spock replied, reassuring him. "There is no problem."
"Oh," Jim said. He shuffled from foot to foot and scratched his cheek. The lights were off, which was odd considering it was only just past eight. "Did you want something?"
"Yes. I was hoping to-" Spock cut himself off abruptly as he realized his mistake. "I apologize. I had forgotten you are working the night shift tonight. Please excuse me."
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Spock was the one who had scheduled him for tonight. There really was no excuse as to why he had forgotten. Jim clearly just wanted to sleep before he stayed up the whole night and had his normal shift tomorrow. Spock should have thought about that as opposed to only thinking about what he wanted. Some friend he was.
As he turned to leave, Jim opened the door wider and grabbed his arm. "Wait a second," Jim said, quickly. Spock looked back at Jim, unsure what he wanted but preparing himself to be told off. "Do you want to come in?" When Spock hesitated, Jim continued, "I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but I thought you wanted something?"
"I thought we might play chess," Spock said, slowly. "However I understand that you-"
"Chess," Jim repeated, interrupting him. He grinned and tightened his grip on Spock's arm. "Chess sounds great." Jim let his arm drop and gestured briefly to his boxers and lack of shirt. "Just let me get dressed."
Spock's eyes followed the movement of Jim's hand before snapping back to his face. "Of course," he replied. "I will wait out here."
"Yeah," Jim said, grin widening. "You do that."
Spock waited for no more than two minutes while Jim put on more appropriate clothing. It was surprising that Jim slept in boxer shorts. Vulcans either wore a full set of the Vulcan equivalent of pajamas to bed, or else they slept naked. It was illogical to do things half-way.
"Okay, I'm ready," Jim stated as he walked out of his room, now wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Let's go."
They walked to the nearest recreation room, which was smaller than the ones Jim usually preferred. However it did have a chess set, which was all that they required for the time being. Spock set up the pieces when Jim sat down, putting his elbows on the table and holding his head up with his hands.
"We haven't played in a while," Jim stated.
"I know," Spock said.
"Actually, it feels like I haven't seen you in forever," Jim said.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I saw you this afternoon."
"Well, yeah," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "But I mean like this."
"Yes, it has been a few days since we last saw each other outside of work," Spock said.
"It's nice." Jim gestured between them, back and forth twice. "Doing this."
"Yes," Spock agreed. "It is." He sat down and began inspecting the board. "I believe it is your turn to go first."
"All right. But don't blame me when you lose horribly."
"Since I will not lose, you do not need to be concerned."
They began playing, making general comments as they each moved their respective pieces. Spock realized, over the course of the game, that there were a lot of aspects of Jim's 's character he had missed. Jim was amusing and had no problem making joking remarks about himself as well as the people he was with. It was a relief to be able to not worry about how he acted or what he said. Whereas with most people Spock would have to explain himself or leave them all confused, Jim never misunderstood him. Besides that, Jim was always happy to see him, unlike many of the crew members who seemed to consider Spock a harbinger of doom. Plus, Jim treated him as an equal, which was refreshing given the attitudes of everyone else on board the Enterprise.
When Jim moved his queen to block the check Spock had put him in, Spock was able to checkmate him in three more moves thanks to clever use of a knight and the protection of his own king by a rook. They had both gotten used to winning and losing over the past few games. Jim sighed heavily as he tipped over his king.
"I stand corrected," Jim said.
"As I said, there was no need for your concern," Spock replied.
Jim leaned back in his chair. "But I'm always concerned about you."
"There is not always a need for you to be," Spock said, aware the conversation had taken an odd turn but unsure how to respond.
"You should just get used to it now," Jim said. "I'm sensing that concern for you is going to be this constant annoyance in my life."
"At least I do not hang indiscriminately off of collapsing walls," Spock retorted. "Perhaps then there would be an actual need for your concern."
"Maybe. But then again the idea of you hanging off of anything…" Jim trailed off, laughing.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see the humor in that situation."
"Ah, that's okay," Jim replied, running a hand through his hair. "That just makes it funnier."
Spock paused, not wanting to ruin Jim's good mood but also remembering something he had wanted to tell him. "I was speaking with Mr. Chekov two days ago." Jim nodded, waving a hand at him to continue. "He informed me that he supported your decision to remove Mr. Wilshaw from the Enterprise."
Jim shrugged. "Well, of course he does. He's not an idiot, is he?" Spock remained silent, assuming this was a rhetorical question. "I work the closest with the people I trust the most, and the people on the bridge are who I spend all day with. He spread his hands. "Obviously I'm not going to surround myself with racist assholes."
"True," Spock said. It made sense, considering how open-minded Jim was about life in general.
"Besides, I think Chekov gets it," Jim said. Spock looked at him curiously. "Well, I mean, he's always really nice to you."
"Mr. Chekov is polite to everyone," Spock pointed out.
"Yeah, I know, but still." Jim looked at Spock, smiling a little. "It's good, not being the bad cop all the time, right?" Spock hesitated but before he could ask, Jim said, "There's a phrase good cop, bad cop, and it means one person is friendly all the time while the other's always all terrifying. It kind of works."
"Yes," Spock said, raising an eyebrow at Jim's crude but insightful explanation. "It does."
"All right," Jim said. "If I don't leave now I won't have enough time to eat and change."
Spock glanced at the time on the wall, surprised how late it had gotten while he had been distracted. He stood up and followed Jim out of the recreation room and back down the corridor to Jim's quarters. When they got there, Jim turned around and gave Spock a light punch in the shoulder.
"Thanks for asking me out," Jim said. He blinked and quickly added, "For chess, I mean. You know, to hang out. Um."
Even though he didn't understand Jim's confusion, Spock couldn't help the small smile that darted across his face. "I will see you in the morning, Jim."
"Yeah." Jim raised his hand, awkwardly, and then crossed his arms. "See you later."
Spock returned to his own quarters feeling much more relaxed and happier than he had in days. He would need to make a habit of spending time with Jim at least two or three times a week. Surely Uhura would understand that everyone wanted to spend time with their friends. It would have no impact on the time he spent with her. Spock just hoped she wouldn't get upset when he told her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 10a
A/N Part 2: At some point I should make a masterpost to collect everything, but for the time being here's nix_this's COMPLETELY AWESOMESAUCE second fanart. Check it out, people! Give her some love for awesome chibi!Spock. ♥
EDIT: I put up a post requesting mission ideas, and you can also go there and comment with your questions for the characters and I'll reply in character. Fun times, people. Fun. Times.
Author: kowaiyoukai
Rating: R
Pairing: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)
Warning(s): Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody
Spoilers: Star Trek XI (2009) (a.k.a. Star Trek XI, Star Trek 2009, Star Trek Reboot, New Trek, and can we please just pick one name for this fandom people?!)
Word Count: 10,207
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.
Beta Acknowledgment: None! I know there are errors, so please let me know if you see any! Thanks!
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise.
A/N: So there was DISASTER when getting this chapter out. I'm staying at jelost's house for the week, and lo and behold, there's a fucking tornado warning. So this massive storm came and shut the power off for almost thirteen hours, just when I was in the middle of writing the last section of this. Then the power was out for about 14-15 hours, and then when it came back on, the internet was broke. So I had to wait for jelost to get home from work so she could fix it b/c kicking it did nothing and I had no more ideas. AND THEN WHEN I'D FINALLY GOTTEN ALMOST TO THE END OF THIS CHAPTER--Word crashed seven times in ten minutes and I had to write the rest of it in Notepad, and re-write a bunch that Word had made into *'s and boxes. DDDDDDD: Apologies to everybody, but especially to animegirl0087 who bribed me with Star Trek merch to get this part out yesterday AND to nix_this who bribed me with more fanart to get this part out sooner than I did. I AM EPIC FAIL, but it's really not my fault this time! Oh, and in case anyone's curious/counting, I've hit over 100,000 words in my Apogee Word file. A bunch of it hasn't been posted yet, but still... \o/ Also, I really want to write some porn.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Othersides 1 | Part 6a | Part 6b | Part 6c | Part 7 | Part 8
Spock was everything his step-father would hate. Not that he minded. Not that he cared. Because he didn't. But he couldn't help thinking it all the same. Spock was the exact opposite of anyone he would ever consider bringing home only because of the reception they'd get. Spock was not only a man, but also an alien. And a Vulcan at that, and Jim knew what his step-father thought about Vulcans. They looked human enough on the outside, but on the inside they were so different it was disgusting. They could masquerade as human, could pretend to enjoy the company of humans, but they always held themselves to a higher level, and they always came out with logic that defied pure common sense. Even their hearts were literally in the wrong place. Jim could hear his step-father's voice clearly, ranting as always. He cleared his mind to block out the sound and tried to concentrate on what he knew.
He knew being with Spock was what he wanted. He didn't know how he was going to go about starting a romance with the man, since clearly all of his usual ideas would be wasted and probably end up in humiliating failure. He also didn't know that being with another guy was what he wanted. But for some reason, that didn't seem to matter when he was talking about Spock. Spock didn't fall into the same category other guys did. He was completely different in all these new and exciting ways, and it was nearly impossible to conceal his joy every time Jim learned anything more about him. So being with Spock romantically was just completely appealing to Jim in every way. There was nothing about it that seemed wrong to him, and if other people thought it was wrong they could go screw themselves.
But then again, that wasn't entirely true. What worried Jim the most about getting with a guy wasn't really the physical aspect of it. It was more the response he'd get from other people. He knew most people were all right with homosexuality now, but there was no way to be sure about it until it would be too late to write it off as a bad joke. He'd been friends with McCoy for years and he still didn't feel comfortable telling McCoy he might be a tiny bit on the gay side. He didn't want to risk a disaster over something that might not ever happen. He didn't think McCoy would react badly-but then again they had never discussed it before and maybe the fact it had never come up, even in general conversation, was proof enough that McCoy didn't want to talk about it. But what did that mean? They hadn't discussed a lot of topics. For instance, golf. Jim and McCoy had never really sat down and talked about golf. But that didn't mean Jim thought McCoy was anti-golf. It just meant McCoy had no real interest in golf, and neither did Jim, so it wasn't something they talked about. But if Jim suddenly developed an intense, burning interest in golf, he was sure McCoy would listen to him. Well, mostly sure. Worst case scenario, McCoy would laugh at him and tell him to go bother somebody else. Which, come to think of it, was exactly the problem.
Then there was Spock. Who knew what he thought of homosexuality, or what Vulcans in general thought of it? Jim hadn't given it much consideration because there was nothing he could do to change Spock's mind either way, but a lot of the time Spock worked under rules that Jim was just beginning to understand. If a culture was based on ignoring emotions, how much were they supposed to ignore them? Entirely, or just enough that outsiders thought they were unemotional? How emotional did Vulcans get, when they weren't being observed by members of other species? And what about if an emotion was so intense that it was impossible to ignore? What would be more logical-ignoring something you desired or accepting it? And what if what you desired was illogical to begin with? Was it logical to ignore an emotion that was logically illogical?
… See, this was why Jim didn't give the idea too much time to bang around inside his head and become more and more jumbled. What he knew was fairly simple. He'd keep it that way if he could. All he knew was that Spock was dating Uhura, apparently now because he wanted to rather than just going along with their deal, and that Spock had never expressed an opinion one way or the other on a relationship with Jim-except for way back in their first week on the Enterprise together when Spock had called Jim his friend. Jim had been happy to accept that at the time, and he still thrilled about it, really. Now, though, he wondered if there was even a way to bring up what Spock thought about him without seeming unhinged. He'd have to think of something to say soon, though. He'd never been patient. Not even when it mattered.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The sick bay was the last place Jim wanted to visit. He still hadn't come up with a good way to talk to McCoy about everything he'd been panicking about, and he knew visiting sick bay was like asking for McCoy to grill him. But he'd gotten notice that Scotty had been injured fixing something or other in engineering. No matter how much Jim wanted to avoid McCoy at the moment, he wasn't going to insult Scotty by not paying him a visit. He'd already been assured the injury was a minor one-a burn along his forearm that would heal in a day or two-but Scotty was both his Chief Engineer and a personal friend. Jim was going to visit him even if it meant sprinting out of sick bay and down the corridor afterwards to avoid McCoy.
Luckily, Scotty was sitting on the bed closest to the door. Jim took this as a lucky break and strode over to him, shaking his head.
"What did you do?" Jim asked, sighing.
"It's not entirely my fault this time, Captain," Scotty replied. "I found out the hard way that one of the grates covering a metal pipe was loose." He held his arm out, burn side up, and Jim grimaced at the harsh blistering skin.
"Ugh," Jim muttered, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. "You're lucky Bones knows what he's doing, otherwise you'd have serious problems."
"Well, I like to think of it as a learning opportunity," Scotty said. "Now I can safely say that it would be a bad idea to burn myself again."
Jim grinned. "Good thing, then."
"I think so," Scotty agreed.
"So why was the grate loose?" Jim asked. "That's unusual." Scotty looked towards the wall and then briefly around the room, going for casual but coming off as obviously avoiding the question. "Scotty."
"Well," Scotty said, scrunching his nose up and pursing his lips. "The important thing is it's fixed now."
"Scotty," Jim repeated, hoping his tone gave off how unhappy he was with that answer.
"Don't worry about it," Scotty said, waving a hand at Jim. "I took care of it."
Jim smiled despite himself as a thought struck him. "Are you protecting someone?"
Scotty scoffed at him, waving his uninjured hand at Jim for the second time in less than thirty seconds. "That's ridiculous talk, Captain. Riiidiculous."
"Uh huh," Jim said, grinning. "Tell me who screwed up and we'll pretend you didn't, how's that?"
"Look, it's seriously not a problem," Scotty said, shrugging. "Just one of the newbies who thought there were only two safety locks instead of three." He waved his burned arm at Jim. "She knows now."
Jim rolled his eyes. "I guess so."
He didn't want to press Scotty on the identity of the cadet because clearly Scotty didn't want any of his subordinates to get into trouble with the Captain if he could help it. Also, Jim knew Scotty was right. Whoever this cadet was, she definitely was feeling guilty about causing an injury due to her mistake. Jim knew she wouldn't be repeating the same error. The real question was, would she make any more mistakes that would get other people injured?
Engineering was a tough department. Maybe the toughest one in the whole ship. They were in charge of keeping everything running-everything. Lights, turbo lift, life support, doors, garbage disposal chutes, engines, wall communicators, transporter, water filtration-all of that and more was up to Engineering to maintain. Sure, Maintenance did a fantastic job fixing the small problems and most of the time one specific piece of equipment was at least under the jurisdiction of two departments to care for, but when things truly broke down it was almost always up to Engineering to get them running again. All of that meant that not only was Engineering the toughest and perhaps most important department to work in, but also that the crew members in Engineering were often over-stressed and under-appreciated.
It would be difficult for any new officers with no experience to get thrown into Engineering, even if they had been trained exceptionally well. Usually new officers were spread out among several starships so that a group of more experienced people could watch over them and give them the individual attention they needed. Of course thanks to the Nero incident, Starfleet was short on starships and officers. Jim knew the Enterprise wasn't the only ship with too many novices on board, but that didn't make the situation any better. Shit, Jim himself was a novice at command. The only officers with any sort of previous experience were Spock and Scotty, with McCoy coming in just after them. Nearly everyone else needed to be watched over by people who knew what they were doing because, even though the majority of his officers had been well trained and would have graduated without problems, Jim knew that nobody knew what they were doing one hundred percent of the time.
Still, having an experienced set of eyes in each department was a luxury Jim didn't have. There weren't many actions he could take to try and fix the problem, but he'd start with the simplest one and move on from there until everyone had really settled in to their positions.
"All right, I'm not going to force you to tell me," Jim said. Scotty looked relieved. "But," Jim said, and Scotty immediately went back to being worried. "I want you to start having weekly drills for everyone in your department. Make up problems and get them to fix them, explain to them the most common mistakes, that sort of thing."
"Captain, they're already working too much," Scotty said, frowning. "I've got people doing twelve and fifteen hour days."
"You think I don't already know that?" Jim snapped.
Scotty's reply was immediate and sincere. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to imply-"
Jim ran a hand over his face. "No, it's okay, sorry." He shook his head, frowning. He shouldn't get angry when Scotty was just looking out for the officers in his department, but this wasn't a new complaint and there was still nothing he could do to fix it. "Look, every department is short-staffed. There's nothing any of us can do about that until we get more officers, and who knows when that'll be." Jim sighed, rolling his shoulders tiredly. "Right now what we can do is work on training the officers we have so that, when we do get new people, we'll be better able to deal with them. Besides, it's not like the drills need to be long. Don't let them last for longer than half an hour, and make sure you cover the basics first. Safety protocol, definitely, then go into whatever other mistakes you're seeing a lot of."
"Yes, sir," Scotty said, face blank. "I know you're dealing with a lot. I shouldn't have said-"
"Me?" Jim repeated, waving Scotty's apology away with a careless gesture. "All I have to do is sit on my chair all day long. You're the one who's running around burning yourself on loose grates."
"Ah," Scotty said, shrugging. "It builds character."
"Maybe that's why everyone's been visiting me so often," McCoy said. Jim turned around, surprised, and saw McCoy walking towards them, holding a vial and some bandages. "You'd better watch out, Jim. This ship's going to explode from how much character the crew has."
"If the ship explodes, I'm blaming Scotty," Jim said, jerking a thumb behind him. "He knows that already, though."
"Okay, ha ha," Scotty said, rolling his eyes. "That was only that one time, all right? Why everyone's got to keep bringing that up, I don't know."
"Well, guess I'll see you two later," Jim said. He started to leave but McCoy grabbed his arm.
"Why don't you stay a while," McCoy stated in a tone that clearly indicated it was not a request.
"Oh, you know, busy with being the Captain," Jim replied, laughing nervously. "Got to go… fire somebody."
"You just told me all you do is sit around in your chair," Scotty said.
"Do you want that raise or not?" Jim asked, not even looking back at him in case McCoy accidentally gave Jim a chance to make a run for it.
"He's a very busy man, Bones," Scotty said, frowning at McCoy. "Leave the poor guy alone."
"Do you want that burn healed or not?" McCoy asked, still staring at Jim challengingly.
Scotty paused. "I think I'm going to sit here and wait this one out."
McCoy let go of Jim's arm and said, "I'm going to take care of Scotty's arm. Then we're going to talk." He stabbed a finger in Jim's chest. "If you run out that door, I will chase you down and drag your ass back here."
He would do it, too. Jim knew McCoy wouldn't give a shit about running after him, probably while yelling embarrassing personal information for everyone else to hear. Or, at the very least, he'd stride after Jim and corner him in his room or on the bridge. In another situation, it'd be funny. If Jim was watching McCoy harass someone else, it'd be hysterical. But as it was Jim just felt resigned. McCoy was going to force him to talk, or at least to stumble around groping for something to say. There wasn't a whole lot Jim could do about it. He didn't really want to avoid McCoy any more than he already had. That ability to rely on his best friend through any situation was something he valued. Either McCoy would understand or…
When he realized there was no acceptable way to finish that sentence, the decision was already half-made. "Fine," Jim mumbled, feeling like a petulant child. McCoy glared at him. "What? I'm waiting."
McCoy eyed him suspiciously. But his medical training won out, as Jim knew it would, and he turned to Scotty to put some cream and spray on his burn. Oddly enough, the option of running was immediately dismissed. It popped in Jim's head right away because he had the chance, a clear path to the door, and McCoy was distracted. But if he did that, he'd only make the situation worse later. He was going to have to deal with the fact that McCoy and him were going to talk, and that the talking would most likely involve Jim pouring his heart out like old bathwater and hoping McCoy didn't mind getting his shoes wet.
Minutes later Scotty was off, thanks to the miracles of modern medicine. Jim couldn't believe there had been a time where people had to wait hours, or even days, to get medical treatment. He couldn't imagine what those people had to go through. It was bad enough waiting the few minutes for normal medical care.
McCoy was standing still, waiting for Jim to make the first move-probably to make some kind of comment that would give McCoy something to go on. Well, Jim wasn't going to give him anything of the sort. If McCoy wanted to talk about something, he could damn well bring it up himself.
"So…" Jim began, trailing off. McCoy looked at him, obviously waiting for him to say something else. It took a few seconds for a topic to pop into his head. "How do you feel about… golf?" Jim asked, tone hopeful.
McCoy stared at him incredulously. "I don't give a damn about golf."
"Oh," Jim replied, shoulders slumping. Well then.
"Jim, what the hell is going on?" McCoy asked.
"What do you mean?" Jim hoped McCoy would drop it because he really wasn't sure what to say if he didn't.
"You're acting strange," McCoy said, shaking his head.
"You always say that," Jim said.
"Strange even for you," McCoy clarified.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim replied. He hadn't been acting that oddly. Besides, what was he supposed to do? Completely ignore this whole mid-twenties crisis he was having?
"I don't understand why you won't tell me," McCoy said. His eyes had softened but his stance and tone were still annoyed.
Jim shoved his hands in his pockets. "Won't tell you what?"
McCoy gave him a look. "What's bothering you."
"Okay," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "And once again, what are you talking about?"
McCoy's jaw clenched. Jim didn't want to start a fight, but he couldn't be sure what McCoy knew and what he had only guessed. Plus, he didn't want to start spouting out anything that really wasn't necessary to admit just yet.
"Are you really pulling this crap with me?" McCoy asked, eyes narrowed. "Because you know I don't react well to bullshit."
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about," Jim stated, shaking his head. "What, you think I'm psychic now? If you want to ask me about something, just do it."
McCoy practically growled. "You're being a fucking child," he snapped. Jim took a step back before he realized he'd done so. "If I have to call you out, I'm going to be so, so irritated that I'll find an excuse to give you a shot every day for the next year."
Jim knew it was a lie, just a bluff meant to get him to start talking. Oddly, when McCoy got this angry, Jim found himself able to think clearer. He wasn't quite ready to tell McCoy just yet, not only because of what the consequences would be, but also because McCoy didn't seem ready to have this conversation either. Besides, sick bay was always staffed by at least one or two nurses and had frequent visits from the crew. Was this really the right location for what promised to be a serious discussion, or at least a discussion that Jim wanted to remain private?
"All right, calm down," Jim said, holding up a hand in between them and lowering it slowly towards the ground. "How about I meet up with you later?"
"When later?" McCoy asked, frowning. "If you're trying to get out of this-"
"I'm not, I swear," Jim said. "It's just…" He gestured around the room at the nurses and the three crewmen getting treatment. "You know."
McCoy's face softened. "Yeah, okay. Fine. But then tonight."
"Yeah," Jim agreed. "I'll come back tonight, when everybody's gone."
"It's always dead around two," McCoy stated.
Jim scratched at his nose. "Two. Got it." He let his hand drop and shoved it into his pocket. "Are we done now?"
"Yeah, we're done," McCoy said.
"Good," Jim replied. "Because I've got important work to do. Can't keep a ship running if the Captain's slacking off, you know."
"Really?" McCoy asked, nodding as if in incredibly deep thought. "You could've fooled me."
"I didn't though," Jim said, pointedly.
"You weren't fooling anybody," McCoy said, shaking his head. "But you would never have fooled me."
Jim left with the thought that they both knew they were talking about something entirely different. Not that it mattered much. There'd be time enough later to talk about what he really didn't want to.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was difficult, to say the least, to deal with some of the crew. Despite being both inexperienced and nervous, some of them also had other quirks that Spock had no idea how to deal with. Some people stood up straighter when he spoke to them and were silent for the entire time. Others looked around, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable when dealing with commanding officers. A few people smiled while a few frowned; some were casual and others were formal; some tried to lengthen the conversation while others tried to shorten it.
It was such circumstantial, odd behavior that Spock didn't know how to deal with. There was no one right way to address the crew members, but there were plenty of wrong ways. Some days it seemed like all he did was discover more wrong ways to talk to people.
Luckily, today was not that kind of day. Everything progressed more smoothly than it usually did, which was most likely in direct correlation with Wilshaw getting kicked off the ship. Jim hadn't ever shown that side of his Captaincy before-the side that Spock knew would eventually lead him to become extraordinary. The crew had received an unwelcome surprise when they had realized that Jim wasn't actually their best friend. He was their Captain, and that meant he could be as nice or as unyielding as he wanted to be without having to explain or apologize to anyone.
Spock didn't have that problem. No one had ever mistaken him for a friend instead of the First Officer. There were a few exceptions to that rule, but for the most part everyone knew their place when dealing with him.
Chekov was one of those exceptions. He was currently sitting across from Spock in one of the meeting rooms. They had just finished a meeting with all the officers in the science department. There had been some general concern that certain jobs were being given to the same officers when they were supposed to be going through rotation. Spock had reassigned a few people and informed a few others that since he was the head of the department, they didn't actually get a say in how it was run. Overall, it had been a normal meeting with nothing to stand out, except that Chekov was loitering afterwards and looking at Spock as if he had something he really wanted to say. For the life of him, Spock would never understand why humans didn't just say what was on their minds as opposed to hoping it would become blindingly apparent simply by their stances and fervent looks.
"Yes, Mr. Chekov?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, Mr. Spock, I didn't see you there," Chekov said, still staring right at him.
"I see," Spock stated.
"But since we're both here, together, at the same time, I was thinking maybe we could talk," Chekov said. "Sir." He started looking shiftily around, as if he expected someone else to pop out of the background and interfere.
Spock quite hoped someone would interfere, since Spock wasn't sure what Chekov wanted and was absolutely sure he wanted no part of it. "You may proceed," Spock said.
"Thanks, sir," Chekov replied. "I was wondering, um…" He trailed off, laughing nervously, and then stopped suddenly. "How are things with the Captain?" Spock's eyebrow rose even further. "I mean, you two are, um, doing well?"
"The Captain and I are both fine," Spock replied, unsure exactly why Chekov was asking him this now.
"Oh, good," Chekov said, letting out a long breath. "I was worried because, well, you know how he's been acting. But that's good, that everything's fine. Sir."
"Yes," Spock stated. He wasn't entirely sure what Chekov was referring to and he was completely lost on his overall point. But he had noticed Jim acting a bit unusually since they had gotten back from Lambda Four. It might be a bigger problem than he had thought it was if even the crew was noticing. He'd wait a few more days and see if Jim's behavior continued or not. It could just be that he was over-stressed. Maybe Spock could do something to help him relax-take on more shifts, perhaps. "Is that all, Mr. Chekov?"
"Well, sir, I just wanted to say that, um, I think that it's great that the Captain didn't stand for that kind of thing," Chekov said. At Spock's blank look, he continued, "I mean Wilshaw, sir. He deserved what he got."
"I am sure the Captain will appreciate your support, however unnecessary it is," Spock stated. Jim could do whatever he wanted to, regardless of what the crew thought. It was good to know that there were officers who agreed with him, though. Jim would probably enjoy hearing about that.
"Um… okay," Chekov replied. "I'll just be going then. Sir."
Spock watched Chekov leave and wondered exactly what it was he'd wanted to talk about. Human behavior was constantly becoming more involved. Spock might need to start collecting his mental notes into something more solid. He wasn't sure he'd be able to understand all of the complexities any other way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Uhura was probably one of the only people Sarek would approve of Spock having a relationship with. She was intelligent and able to engage in deep theoretical conversation with him, but at the same time she had a strong emotional side that almost always came out when they were together. She was unlike his mother, who had a quiet strength about her and who had been able to love unconditionally with little fuss. However, Spock had never encountered someone like his mother, and Uhura had enough positive traits and merits of her own that the lack of similar features wasn't an issue. She was human, of course, with all that implied, but the fact that Sarek married a human was proof to Spock that his father was open-minded enough to accept inter-species marriages.
Still, Spock wasn't sure Uhura was the right person for him. He had already decided he would withhold judgment until the end of their arrangement. He would abide by that decision regardless of his emotions, which were only counter-productive to making an informed decision. However, it was obvious that emotions played a role in determining romantic relationships, and it would illogical to completely ignore them. Spock was sure that thought was due solely to his human half, since most Vulcans would have cringed at the idea of admitting they even had emotions. But Spock was learning to accept both of his halves, even though they almost never agreed with each other.
That was entirely the problem when he thought about romance. Vulcans and humans viewed the matter on two entirely different levels, and Spock just wasn't sure which one he agreed with. There was logic and the collected knowledge of millions of people in both viewpoints. Emotions were of course strongest when dealing in this matter, but emotion was a fickle thing. Even when a person felt something incredibly strongly, there was always the possibility that it would fade over time or change into an entirely new feeling. This was more common in humans than in Vulcans simply because, by the time most Vulcans allowed themselves to submit to an emotion, that emotion was so strong and had been ongoing for so long that it would be illogical to continue denying it. However humans were able to give in to such strong emotion earlier, thereby eliminating years of internal debate and stress.
The problem was one Spock had no answer to. Thankfully, he didn't need one. His feelings towards Uhura were not what he would call romantic, and even though he would wait to judge what the outcome of their relationship would be, a part of him already knew there was no feasible way his emotions could alter that drastically in less than four months. Spock was pragmatic, careful, and hesitant when dealing with his emotions. He was willing to work on accepting them more than he had been because a life with humans seemed to demand that. However, he wasn't willing to jump into anything and he certainly wasn't willing to ignore his feelings when they were relevant to the situation. His emotions were immediate but he was slow to accept and understand them, so that it took him far longer than the average human to reach conclusions that dealt with emotions.
He didn't particularly mind giving himself the time he needed to sort through his feelings and then to decide whether or not to act on them or allow them to be noticed by others. The other humans he had come into contact with all seemed put-off by his method, with the noticeable exception of Jim who was an exception to everything. Everyone else seemed to have a difficult time grasping that Spock simply wasn't comfortable showing his emotions. He was trying to become accustomed to the idea. Eventually, he thought he would manage to show emotions without feeling inherently wrong. It was just a matter of slowly teaching himself that repressing his emotions was not the only acceptable way of dealing with them. He knew it would take some time, since he was working against years of incredibly strict and thorough repression. Still, it would happen if he wanted it to. The only thing left was to decide if the human way of dealing emotions really was better than the Vulcan way or not. Unfortunately, there was no precedent to study or learn from. He'd have to figure this problem out on his own.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Going to sick bay that night was a trial of self-endurance. Jim knew he'd agreed, and he knew McCoy would be furious if he backed out. That didn't seem to have any effect at all on the little voice screaming at him that he was being an idiot, that he was about to lose his best friend, and that any rationalizations he was making were just excuses that he could comfort himself with later, after everything had been destroyed.
Luckily his panic had induced a plan of sorts. He could start McCoy off slowly, just by broaching the topic, and maybe he could get McCoy to focus more on the general idea of dating guys than on the idea of Jim being in semi-love with one particular guy who perhaps didn't need to be mentioned at all. In fact, the more Jim thought about it the more he was sure he could keep McCoy off-balanced long enough to satisfy his apparently ridiculous need for information and yet also keep all of the most important details to himself. It was a great plan. The problem with it was that he was dealing with McCoy, and so of course things got turned around and all screwed up the minute he got there.
"So, what's on your mind?" McCoy asked, patting a bed invitingly.
Jim shook his head, preferring to stand in case he needed to pace or run or attempt to fidget unnoticeably. "Well, there's this thing."
"Thing?" McCoy repeated.
"Yeah. I've got a…" Jim hesitated, trying to come up with another word and failing miserably. "Thing for…" He paused again, deciding that it was probably better to be subtle. "Somebody."
"Wait, let me get this straight," McCoy said. He pressed his fingers into his forehead briefly before giving Jim a look that consisted of one raised eyebrow, a half-curled lip, and a whole lot of horrified disbelief. "You want me to give you dating advice?"
After considering all possible responses, Jim settled for the simplest. "Yeah. That's what I want."
McCoy threw a hand up in the air and made a sweeping gesture. "Jim, you're the biggest player in the fleet." He let his hand drop and then narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Are you mocking me? Is that what this is?"
"No," Jim protested. He shrugged. "I just need advice from someone I trust."
"But why do you need advice at all? Every girl you've ever met has practically thrown herself at you."
"Well…" Jim hesitated. He knew he'd have to come clean about this part of the problem, but McCoy was a friend. A good friend, and Jim had no idea how he'd react. Still, McCoy was open-minded about plenty of other things, and it would be a mistake to assume everyone shared his step-father's prejudices. He'd known this part would be coming. He just hadn't expected it to come now. "That's the problem."
"What's the problem? That girls throw themselves at you all the damn time?" McCoy snorted. "Yes, Jim, I can see how you'd have a real problem with that."
"No," Jim said, then groaned. "I meant the girls part."
McCoy held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Now, Jim, hold on and just listen to me for a damn minute. I don't have enough experience with men to tell you how to do it. I mean it. You'd be better off asking someone else, maybe Chekov or Sulu. No, wait, Scotty, he's probably done it a few times."
It struck Jim suddenly that McCoy hadn't even paused. His response had been honest and immediate, without even a trace of surprise or unease. There were only two possible reasons for that-either McCoy was secretly hiding a life of homosexual experimentation from him, or McCoy had already known what Jim was going to say before the conversation had even started. The second explanation was much more likely than the first, since besides being incredibly hypocritical the first was just ludicrous for Jim to try and imagine. But the end result was the same.
Relief flooded through Jim. He'd been so worried that McCoy's immediate reaction would be negative, and instead all he got was the same tone McCoy always used for everything. It was like he didn't even care that Jim was talking about liking another guy. Jim had never heard of such a blasé reaction to homosexuality before. He'd known people were open-minded about it, but he hadn't known he'd get a reaction that was so completely… normal.
"You're not upset, or disgusted, or anything?" The words were out of Jim's mouth before he could think twice about them. It might be an odd question at this point, but he needed to know. He didn't want to assume McCoy was fine with everything only to find out later the exact opposite was true.
McCoy looked surprised and a bit offended. "Why the hell would you think that?" He waved a hand to silence whatever reply Jim would have made. "Listen, Jim. I know your step-father was an asshole, but come on. You need to get over it." He stopped short, frowning. "I didn't mean it that way, but it's the truth. It's the twenty-third century. People are more accepting now than they've ever been, you know that."
"I know," Jim said. When McCoy made a face, Jim repeated, "I know, all right?"
"Then stop worrying about it." McCoy took a breath and continued, "I know it was shit. And that sucks. It really does. But eventually you need to-"
"Bones," Jim interrupted, loudly. "Thanks, but really, just… not now, all right?" He smiled a little, rolling his eyes. "One crisis at a time, how about that?"
McCoy frowned. "Being gay isn't a crisis, Jim. It's not something you should be stressed out over."
"Gay?" Jim repeated, voice squeaking. "I'm not gay. Not even close. I'm just…"
McCoy gave Jim a blatantly disbelieving look. "Hm?" he muttered, looking inquiringly at Jim. "Just what? Attracted to guys?"
"Well… yeah," Jim said, frowning.
"That means you're gay," McCoy said, speaking very slowly with equal importance on every word.
"But not every guy," Jim said, quickly. "Just this one in particular."
"Oh, come on," McCoy scoffed. "I've seen you checking out guys before. Are you seriously going to try and give me that shit now?"
"You have not," Jim said, reverting back to a child on a playground. "I mean, I've never checked out a guy in my life! Except for this one. But he doesn't count!"
"You are going to give me this shit, aren't you?" McCoy asked, sighing.
"It's just that I don't see why liking one guy has to make me gay," Jim said. He began pacing in front of McCoy, just a few steps in either direction before turning on his heel to do it again. "I mean, I've been with tons of chicks. Loads of them. That's got to count for something, right?"
"First of all, if you don't stop pacing I am going to kill you with my bare hands," McCoy said. Jim stopped in front of him and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers anxiously against his arm. "Second, you haven't been with that many girls."
"I have," Jim said, affronted.
"Third," McCoy continued, ignoring him, "having sex with someone doesn't mean you're attracted to them. And besides, gay people can have sex with members of the opposite sex. So even if you do have sex with thousands of girls, it doesn't make you straight. Or even bisexual."
"No, but I did like having sex with some of those girls," Jim said, tapping his foot nervously against the floor. "So at least that means I'm, what, an experimenting heterosexual?"
"No," McCoy said, flatly. "It means you're bisexual. Or just a very confused gay man."
"Well, I'm not confused about anything," Jim replied, quickly. "So maybe bi. I could accept bi."
"All right," McCoy said, shrugging. "Bi, then. Which still means you like guys, by the way."
"Only some-only one, one guy!" Jim protested, flinging his hands through the air to try and get McCoy to understand his epic mistake. "That barely counts at all!"
McCoy shook his head. "It counts enough. And the fact that you're arguing this so much is ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with being gay or bi." He paused in a way that had Jim immediately worried about what he would say next. "You do know that, right?"
"Don't be an asshole," Jim said, scowling. "Of course I know that."
"Then what's the problem?" McCoy asked.
"Nothing, there's no problem," Jim replied.
"Well, that's a relief," McCoy said. "And here I'd thought you were freaking out for the past two weeks."
"I'm not freaking out," Jim said, defensive and slowly realizing McCoy was just as sharp as he'd always been. He wondered how he'd forgotten. The Sudden Spock Syndrome might have had something to do with it.
"Good," McCoy said. "Then just go to this guy and use your charm. I'm sure it'll work as well as it always does," McCoy said. He made a dismissive motion. "Now leave me in peace to work."
Jim groaned. McCoy was controlling this conversation way too much, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. "You don't understand, this isn't just any guy!"
"Oh dear God," McCoy said. "I'm about to be subjected to the rant of a twelve-year-old girl with a crush, aren't I?"
Jim glared at him. "Don't be an idiot." He shrugged and said, "It's just that he's… well, very different from anyone else I've ever met. And I'm not sure how to approach him without accidentally, you know, scaring him off or offending him or something."
"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're a guy too?" McCoy looked at Jim as if he expecting to have to yell at him some more.
"No," Jim said. He scrunched his nose up and shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe a little. But I'm not really sure if this guy cares about that at all." Jim waved a hand in the air quickly, indicating just how clueless he was about what to do. "Like I said, he'd different."
"How different can he be?" McCoy asked. "All men are men, Jim. They're all after the same thing." He paused and shook his head, looking horrified at himself. "Good God, I sound like my mother."
"Look like her, too," Jim said, grinning. "But this guy really is different."
"Okay," McCoy said. "How bad is it?" Jim shook his head, confused. "Have you written on small pieces of scrap paper ‘do you like me? check yes or no'?" Jim narrowed his eyes. "Have you doodled your name and his with hearts all over?"
Jim bit his lower lip, trying to keep from smiling. "How many hearts does there have to be for it to count?"
"Only one, Jim," McCoy said, seriously. "One heart is enough." He paused, and Jim tried to keep himself from taking anything too serious out of that last comment. "Especially if it's outlined in glitter pen."
"Screw you," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "I'd never use glitter pen."
"Right, then." McCoy sat on the nearest hospital bed and gestured to Jim. "Who is it? Do I know him?"
"Uh," Jim said, stalling. It seemed obvious in retrospect, but he hadn't actually thought that he'd have to tell McCoy who it was he was interested in. He'd thought he could keep the conversation general and safe. Not that he was ashamed of liking Spock-quite the opposite, actually. Spock was one of the few beings Jim had encountered who was actually good. Spock wanted people to be happy, he wanted peace, he wanted to do the right thing, and he always wanted to be respectable and honorable. But with McCoy sitting there staring at him, it was hard to figure out just what to say to explain his feelings for his logical, unflappable Vulcan First Officer.
"Oh, come on," McCoy said, frowning. "Did you actually think you could come here for advice on your gay love drama and not tell me who the other man is?"
"Yes?"
McCoy glared at him.
"No, I mean, psh, no… obviously," Jim said, hoping he didn't sound too awkward. He sighed. "Look, you can't tell anyone else about this, all right? It's bad enough knowing you're going to know."
"Will you just get on with it?!" McCoy shouted. "I'm a doctor, not a matchmaker, for God's sake. I'm not getting paid to sit here and help you with your love life."
"Spock."
"What?" McCoy asked, looking oddly resigned. "What about him?"
"It's Spock," Jim said quietly.
McCoy stared at him for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. Jim glared at him as he laughed so hard he had to hold onto the edge of the hospital bed for support. McCoy's chuckles echoed through the room, multiplying them, and if he didn't stop laughing soon Jim was going to punch him.
"Are you done?" Jim asked.
McCoy licked his lips and nodded, swiping a hand across his eyes to get rid of the moisture that had collected there. He took a second to compose himself before he got off the hospital bed and walked to stand in front of Jim.
"What?" Jim asked, leaning backwards a bit.
McCoy stared at him seriously before smacking him over the head. Jim scowled and clutched at the pain.
"What the hell?!" Jim shouted, hissing. "I'm your commanding officer, you can't do that to me!"
"Are you insane?!" McCoy shook his head and took a few steps backwards, throwing his hands up in the air. "Spock? Spock?!"
Jim narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"He's a pointy-eared bastard, that's what that means," McCoy said.
"He's not," Jim protested, already regretting he'd said anything.
"He is and you know it. That's why you're worried."
"You're wrong," Jim said. "He's not like that."
"Think what you want. It doesn't change facts."
"You know what? Forget it," Jim said. He shook his head and turned around. "I don't even know why I bothered talking to you."
McCoy strode forward to grab Jim's arm, effectively stopping him from leaving. "You bothered because I'm your best friend and the only person on this ship who's known you since you entered Starfleet."
"Yeah, well, I guess I screwed up," Jim said. "Because you're not helping. At all."
"Look, I know what you're trying to say," McCoy said. "I mean, I've seen you with him. I'm not blind. And maybe I thought…" He sighed and shook his head once, decisively. "But you need to get over it."
"I don't know what you-"
"This thing you're feeling? It's not going to turn out how you want it to," McCoy said. He released Jim's arm. "Spock isn't the kind of guy who would sleep with you just because you're curious about it."
"It's not like that," Jim said, frowning. "Why are you being this way?"
"Jim, with you it's always like that," McCoy said. "And you need to remember it."
"It is not," Jim stated. He was more than a little hurt than McCoy thought he was a whore. "Sleeping around with a few people doesn't make me a slut, Bones."
"Well, no," McCoy agreed. "But you've never had a serious relationship before. And you're only just now wondering about guys." He ran a hand through his hair. "What, you think your first time with a guy is going to be more than just curiosity?"
"Yeah," Jim said, challenging. "I do."
"You don't know that," McCoy said. "You might try it and hate it. Or you might learn something you didn't realize would be involved. And you've only ever slept with people and then left them."
"Not with him," Jim said. "With Spock, it'd be different."
"You said that about nearly every girl you've slept with in the past three years!"
Jim raised his chin. "I'm a different person now," he said. "Captain of the Enterprise. I can tell the difference between a bit of lust and the real thing, Bones."
McCoy was silent for a moment. "Is that what you think? That you'd have the ‘real thing' with Spock?"
"I know it," Jim said.
"You can't be sure," McCoy said. "And if things went badly, he'd be the one to leave the ship. He's an asshole, but he's a good First Officer. It'd be a shame to lose him over something like this."
Jim opened his mouth to retort, but he found he had nothing to say. After a few moments, he swallowed and said, "If I thought this was a passing thing, I wouldn't even have come to you about it. I'd have kept quiet until it passed, you know that."
"I know," McCoy said. "But you're still young, Jim. You don't realize what can happen, even when you think you're in love."
"Yeah, ‘cause you're so over the hill yourself, grandpa," Jim replied.
"I'm older than you," McCoy stated. "And old enough to know what I'm talking about. You think I didn't love my ex-wife?"
"Bones, come on," Jim said, shoulders slumping. "I know you loved her."
"You're damn right I loved her," McCoy said. "That's why I married her. But things still fell apart."
"So what are you saying?" Jim asked, frowning. "You expect me to just give up before I've even tried?"
"No, I expect you to think it through," McCoy said. "There's other factors involved with everybody, and when it's someone you work with, that's a whole other set of problems." He sighed. "There are always going to be problems with anybody, you know that. I'm not telling you anything new here."
"Yeah, I know," Jim agreed. "But that's why you work at it, if you really want it, right?"
"There are some people who just don't work together," McCoy replied.
"Spock and I work together," Jim said. "We get along great."
"Now," McCoy said. "What about when you tell him? He's dating Uhura, so I doubt he's going to be thrilled about this news."
"Tell him?" Jim repeated, eyes widening. His shoved his hands in his pockets. "Uhura's not a problem, he's breaking up with her soon, but…" McCoy snorted at Jim's response and Jim frowned at him, already knowing what McCoy thought about his answer. "That doesn't matter, okay? The Uhura thing will work itself out. But tell him, I mean, I don't know if I'm going to…"
"So you love him but you're not going to tell him?" McCoy asked.
"I… I don't know if I love him," Jim replied.
"All the more reason to stay out of it, then."
"But I think about him all the time," Jim continued, ignoring McCoy's response. "I look for him when I walk into a room. I mean, when he's at my side, I feel good, and when he's not, I miss him. It's weird. I've never thought those things about anyone before. I mean, never."
"Jim," McCoy said, sighing. "You just said you didn't know if you were in love."
"Well… I don't," Jim replied.
"That little speech sounds like you are," McCoy stated.
Jim shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't think I should throw the word around. Especially not when I'm talking about him. It just… doesn't seem right."
McCoy gave Jim a long, searching look before briefly closing his eyes and throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, fine. I get it. You're serious about this and nothing I say is going to change your mind."
"Yeah," Jim replied, grinning.
"I still don't know what you want me to do, exactly. It's not like I'm friends with him or anything," McCoy said. He grimaced and continued, "You want me to put in a good word, is that it? Give him a few clues? Say ‘Mr. Spock, here's the medical override code to get into the Captain's room in the middle of the night, just in case'?"
Jim looked horrified. "Bones, I swear, if you do that, I will kill you."
McCoy looked equally horrified. "Believe me, I won't. Actually, I think I may have to go throw up."
Jim shook his head. "It's not that bad, really." He paused. "Is it?"
McCoy gave him a look. "Of all the people you could have chosen, it had to be him."
"It's not like you choose these things," Jim replied, slightly offended. "It just sort of happened."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before," McCoy responded. "Love is blind, and all of that nonsense. What did you want from me, anyway?"
"Me?" Jim asked. "You're the one who forced me to come here."
"Only because you needed to," McCoy said. "So what was it?"
"I don't know," Jim said. "I guess just to talk."
"We talked," McCoy pointed out.
"So you're off the hook," Jim replied.
"Thank God," McCoy said. "I don't think I can take this much gay drama in one sitting."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two days later, Uhura was busy working two consecutive shifts which left Spock with some unexpected free time. The majority of his off-duty time was spent with Uhura now, thanks to his resolve to give that relationship a fair chance. He didn't exactly enjoy spending time with her. Often, that time was divided almost evenly between Uhura attempting to make small talk or sexual advances at him and Spock attempting to understand what she was trying to say. He still had no clue why humans felt a need to be so physical all the time. Uhura apparently wanted to transplant herself into Spock's body. There were lines Spock would not cross with her because of his discomfort, but then there were points he had to concede if he was going to give her an honest chance. Kissing was acceptable as long as she didn't shove her tongue into his mouth. The first time she'd done so, Spock had almost bitten it off in shock. Hugging briefly was also fine. Holding hands was out of the question. Uhura thankfully had done her research on Vulcan culture and understood why Spock refused to participate in what most humans considered a small gesture. Still, all the research in the world wasn't going to help her if Spock wasn't that attracted to her.
So Spock was extremely relieved to have time away from her. Normally he would have preferred spending the time alone, either meditating or studying, but he hadn't spoken to Jim for a reason unrelated to work in a few days. Missing someone was an odd sensation for him, but Spock immediately realized what he was feeling and didn't mind it. Jim had an important place in Spock's life as his best, if not only, friend. Wanting to spend time with a friend was normal behavior in both Vulcan and human cultures. Accepting that he wanted to see a friend wasn't emotional-it was logical.
Jim was proving to be rather difficult to hunt down, though. After checking the bridge, the mess hall, and Jim's favorite recreation room, the only other option was his quarters. If Jim wasn't in his quarters, Spock would give up and spend the evening alone. He wasn't too keen on searching the ship for hours on end on a night meant for relaxing.
Spock knocked on Jim's door and it slid open, revealing a somewhat messy and wide-eyed Captain.
"What?" Jim asked, blinking at Spock. "Did something happen?"
"No," Spock replied, reassuring him. "There is no problem."
"Oh," Jim said. He shuffled from foot to foot and scratched his cheek. The lights were off, which was odd considering it was only just past eight. "Did you want something?"
"Yes. I was hoping to-" Spock cut himself off abruptly as he realized his mistake. "I apologize. I had forgotten you are working the night shift tonight. Please excuse me."
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Spock was the one who had scheduled him for tonight. There really was no excuse as to why he had forgotten. Jim clearly just wanted to sleep before he stayed up the whole night and had his normal shift tomorrow. Spock should have thought about that as opposed to only thinking about what he wanted. Some friend he was.
As he turned to leave, Jim opened the door wider and grabbed his arm. "Wait a second," Jim said, quickly. Spock looked back at Jim, unsure what he wanted but preparing himself to be told off. "Do you want to come in?" When Spock hesitated, Jim continued, "I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but I thought you wanted something?"
"I thought we might play chess," Spock said, slowly. "However I understand that you-"
"Chess," Jim repeated, interrupting him. He grinned and tightened his grip on Spock's arm. "Chess sounds great." Jim let his arm drop and gestured briefly to his boxers and lack of shirt. "Just let me get dressed."
Spock's eyes followed the movement of Jim's hand before snapping back to his face. "Of course," he replied. "I will wait out here."
"Yeah," Jim said, grin widening. "You do that."
Spock waited for no more than two minutes while Jim put on more appropriate clothing. It was surprising that Jim slept in boxer shorts. Vulcans either wore a full set of the Vulcan equivalent of pajamas to bed, or else they slept naked. It was illogical to do things half-way.
"Okay, I'm ready," Jim stated as he walked out of his room, now wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Let's go."
They walked to the nearest recreation room, which was smaller than the ones Jim usually preferred. However it did have a chess set, which was all that they required for the time being. Spock set up the pieces when Jim sat down, putting his elbows on the table and holding his head up with his hands.
"We haven't played in a while," Jim stated.
"I know," Spock said.
"Actually, it feels like I haven't seen you in forever," Jim said.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I saw you this afternoon."
"Well, yeah," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "But I mean like this."
"Yes, it has been a few days since we last saw each other outside of work," Spock said.
"It's nice." Jim gestured between them, back and forth twice. "Doing this."
"Yes," Spock agreed. "It is." He sat down and began inspecting the board. "I believe it is your turn to go first."
"All right. But don't blame me when you lose horribly."
"Since I will not lose, you do not need to be concerned."
They began playing, making general comments as they each moved their respective pieces. Spock realized, over the course of the game, that there were a lot of aspects of Jim's 's character he had missed. Jim was amusing and had no problem making joking remarks about himself as well as the people he was with. It was a relief to be able to not worry about how he acted or what he said. Whereas with most people Spock would have to explain himself or leave them all confused, Jim never misunderstood him. Besides that, Jim was always happy to see him, unlike many of the crew members who seemed to consider Spock a harbinger of doom. Plus, Jim treated him as an equal, which was refreshing given the attitudes of everyone else on board the Enterprise.
When Jim moved his queen to block the check Spock had put him in, Spock was able to checkmate him in three more moves thanks to clever use of a knight and the protection of his own king by a rook. They had both gotten used to winning and losing over the past few games. Jim sighed heavily as he tipped over his king.
"I stand corrected," Jim said.
"As I said, there was no need for your concern," Spock replied.
Jim leaned back in his chair. "But I'm always concerned about you."
"There is not always a need for you to be," Spock said, aware the conversation had taken an odd turn but unsure how to respond.
"You should just get used to it now," Jim said. "I'm sensing that concern for you is going to be this constant annoyance in my life."
"At least I do not hang indiscriminately off of collapsing walls," Spock retorted. "Perhaps then there would be an actual need for your concern."
"Maybe. But then again the idea of you hanging off of anything…" Jim trailed off, laughing.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see the humor in that situation."
"Ah, that's okay," Jim replied, running a hand through his hair. "That just makes it funnier."
Spock paused, not wanting to ruin Jim's good mood but also remembering something he had wanted to tell him. "I was speaking with Mr. Chekov two days ago." Jim nodded, waving a hand at him to continue. "He informed me that he supported your decision to remove Mr. Wilshaw from the Enterprise."
Jim shrugged. "Well, of course he does. He's not an idiot, is he?" Spock remained silent, assuming this was a rhetorical question. "I work the closest with the people I trust the most, and the people on the bridge are who I spend all day with. He spread his hands. "Obviously I'm not going to surround myself with racist assholes."
"True," Spock said. It made sense, considering how open-minded Jim was about life in general.
"Besides, I think Chekov gets it," Jim said. Spock looked at him curiously. "Well, I mean, he's always really nice to you."
"Mr. Chekov is polite to everyone," Spock pointed out.
"Yeah, I know, but still." Jim looked at Spock, smiling a little. "It's good, not being the bad cop all the time, right?" Spock hesitated but before he could ask, Jim said, "There's a phrase good cop, bad cop, and it means one person is friendly all the time while the other's always all terrifying. It kind of works."
"Yes," Spock said, raising an eyebrow at Jim's crude but insightful explanation. "It does."
"All right," Jim said. "If I don't leave now I won't have enough time to eat and change."
Spock glanced at the time on the wall, surprised how late it had gotten while he had been distracted. He stood up and followed Jim out of the recreation room and back down the corridor to Jim's quarters. When they got there, Jim turned around and gave Spock a light punch in the shoulder.
"Thanks for asking me out," Jim said. He blinked and quickly added, "For chess, I mean. You know, to hang out. Um."
Even though he didn't understand Jim's confusion, Spock couldn't help the small smile that darted across his face. "I will see you in the morning, Jim."
"Yeah." Jim raised his hand, awkwardly, and then crossed his arms. "See you later."
Spock returned to his own quarters feeling much more relaxed and happier than he had in days. He would need to make a habit of spending time with Jim at least two or three times a week. Surely Uhura would understand that everyone wanted to spend time with their friends. It would have no impact on the time he spent with her. Spock just hoped she wouldn't get upset when he told her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Part 10a
A/N Part 2: At some point I should make a masterpost to collect everything, but for the time being here's nix_this's COMPLETELY AWESOMESAUCE second fanart. Check it out, people! Give her some love for awesome chibi!Spock. ♥
EDIT: I put up a post requesting mission ideas, and you can also go there and comment with your questions for the characters and I'll reply in character. Fun times, people. Fun. Times.