Daffodil Time, Part 12/17
Title: Daffodil Time
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot . . . ish
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title is from a William Carlos William poem. I can't even take full credit for the idea, and all of the adorable can be traced directly to momo_girlie and her painfully cute drawings. *fangirl flail*
Summary: Vague A/U. What would have happened if Kirk and Spock had known each other as children? Yes, another one of those.
Author's Note: The first part of my help_japan fill is being beta'd right now, and while I was waiting I figured I might as well work on something else, and then this chapter was finished. o_O Weird how that happens sometimes. Possibly it happened this time because it contains THE VERY FIRST THING I EVER WROTE FOR IT OMG. Back when I had just discovered momo_girlie 's art and was in full-on squee mode and decided I had to write something about it right now. I sent it to her, and we started talking about turning it into a proper fic, and then it like got into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of growth hormone or something and I don't even know why that was in the medicine cabinet in the first place but that's pretty much what happened. Yeah. So, if you're still reading this madness, know that a line/partial scene from this chapter was inspired by Let the Right One In, and I will give epic bonus points to anyone who can spot it. Also, for those keeping track, this is the picture that inspired the whole thing. (Also, this is more or less Ta'an. FYI.)
Part 1│Part 2│Part 3│Part 4│Part 5│Part 6│Part 7│Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
Spock sits with his school work spread over the table in front of him, books and PADDs filled with differential equations and warp physics and ancient history. The rest of the house is sleeping; but as happens once a week without fail, Spock finds that his circadian rhythm has left him entirely awake. This is, he assures himself, for the best, as it provides him with the necessary opportunity to see to his studies. Though James is, on the whole, in turns supportive of and fascinated by the amount of work Spock must accomplish to keep up with his peers, he often seems to find it difficult to keep from becoming a distraction. Were he here with Spock now, he would almost certainly attempt to pull him away from his studies and into another, far more frivolous activity.
But James is asleep, and waking him up simply to prove a hypothesis would be highly illogical.
Spock turns back to his work, but his attention is caught instead by the brightly-colored fish swimming in the glass bowl that he has situated at the end of the table. Over the past three days he has carried the bowl with him whenever possible. His mother has allowed him to do so with a certain amount of bemused tolerance, but James has seemed extremely pleased at Spock's attachment to his present.
He has been studying for some time now, Spock decides. A break would be permissible.
It is remarkably pleasant to watch her swim, as Spock had immediately discovered when James had presented him with her. Her body is a deep, dark blue that lightens in her tail and along the delicate fins at her back that wave gracefully as she moves, or whip dramatically when she gives a sudden burst of speed. The fins below her belly fade from blue to purple and finally to red. He has named her Ta'an.
James had been quite adamant that she required a name, despite Spock's eminently logical argument that as she could not hear him speak it and respond, a name seemed entirely superfluous. However, James had insisted, and eventually Spock had given in. Unpracticed in the exercise, Spock is still not entirely certain if his choice of the Vulcan word for 'gift' is appropriate. James had declared it a fine name, however, and Spock is willing to defer to his expertise.
Reluctantly, Spock turns back to his PADD. His peers, he knows, will be working as diligently as ever in his absence. Though his emotional outburst and the ensuing physical altercation had put a stop to the overt torments that he had endured for years, Spock is not so foolish as to believe that the attitudes behind them have changed. He is therefore determined to provide them with no further ammunition. His test scores are among the highest in his age group; soon, he will surpass them all. In order to do that, however, he must focus.
When he feels James's sleeping thoughts seek him out he permits himself a small smile, and refocuses his attention on his notes about the Time of Awakening.
He has moved on to spatial ruptures by the time James shuffles bleary-eyed in from the kitchen, a bowl of cereal clutched in his hands.
“'Morning,” he says, and his jaw stretches in a wide, dramatic yawn. He smiles when he sees Ta'an, and Spock very nearly smiles back.
“I trust you slept well,” Spock says politely, closing his notes and setting them aside.
“Yeah. Weird dreams, though.” James peers at the neat stacks of Spock's work. “I think there was something about Vulcan. But we were like . . .” He gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Warriors or something.”
Spock raises an intrigued eyebrow. “I have been studying ancient Vulcan history,” he offers. “Perhaps that influenced your dreams. Were we at war?”
James is focused on his cereal now, and shakes his head without looking up. “No. We were just . . . sort of hanging out.” He lifts the bowl to his mouth, drinking the leftover milk in one long swallow. “Where are our moms?”
“They are still in your mother's lab, though I believe they will be leaving soon. Leonard is due to arrive by ten o'clock.”
“Bones!” James sits upright in his chair, letting the bowl fall to the table with a clatter. “Right. I forgot.”
“You forgot that Leonard is meant to be supervising us today?” Spock asks doubtfully.
“Not exactly. But . . .” James glances over his shoulder in the way that Spock has learned means he is afraid of being overheard. “Okay, you can't tell our moms.”
“I believe they are already aware, as they were the ones to request his assistance.”
“Not that,” James says, rolling his eyes, and Spock enjoys a wholly illogical sense of accomplishment at his successful teasing. Then James leans forward, and Spock finds himself mimicking the move. “You can't tell them that Bones is having a girl over later,” he finishes in a low voice.
Spock tilts his head slightly, confused. “Why not?” he asks, echoing Jim's tone as well as his posture.
“Because our moms probably wouldn't like it. And because I sort of promised.”
“If our parents would be opposed to the idea, why would you agree to conceal it?”
“Reciprocity,” James says, rolling his eyes, and shrugs. “Besides, it's not like we really need a babysitter. We can look after ourselves. C'mon, Spock, promise you won't tell?”
Spock hesitates. Despite James's claim, it is quite clear to Spock that one of them, at least, does require supervision. On the other hand, he does not believe that Leonard would be so irresponsible as to allow them to come to any actual harm. However, if Leonard does prove to be too easily distracted by his friend, Spock believes that his own influence should be enough to keep James from doing anything egregiously foolish, such as jumping off of the roof or lighting anything on fire.
“Very well,” he says, sitting back with a nod. “I promise.”
Spock watches Leonard carefully when he arrives an hour later, attempting to discern if anything in his demeanor seems to indicate a higher level of irresponsibility than normal. The older boy seems as self-possessed and alert as ever, however, and Spock allows himself to relax. Nevertheless, he assures himself, he will be on alert for anything resembling potentially dangerous behavior on James's behalf and be ready to deal with it accordingly.
“We'll be gone for most of the day,” Jim's mother is saying as Leonard nods his understanding. “You have the number for the 'Fleet offices, and we'll call if we're going to be late. Jim's upstairs getting dressed-I hope. Do I have everything?”
“You've checked your bag five times, Winona,” Spock's mother says without bothering to hide her amusement. “Honestly, I don't know why you're so nervous; it's the same presentation you've given every week for the past month.”
“Never for the brass before,” Jim's mother mutters. “Something you should empathize with,” she adds, pointing an accusatory finger, “after your meeting with the Terran Educational Secretary.”
“Fair enough.” Spock's mother's eyes turn to him, then, and she gives him a soft smile. “Be good, and keep an eye on Jim while we're gone.”
“Thought that's what I was here for,” Leonard grins, and both women laugh.
“It can never hurt to have more than one person looking after my son,” James's mother says.
“I don't get in that much trouble.” They all turn as James clatters his way down the stairs, a faint frown turning down his mouth, and their mothers laugh even harder.
“Be good, Jimmy.” James's mother drops a kiss on the top of his head as he sulks. “You too, Spock,” she chuckles, and James rolls his eyes and retreats to the living room.
“Good luck,” Leonard offers as they leave the house. He turns away as the door closes behind them, and starts when he finds Spock still watching him. They stare at each other for a long moment. “So.” Leonard clears his throat. “I guess Jimmy told you?”
“He informed me that you are 'having a girl over later'.”
“And I guess since they didn't say anything about it that you didn't tell your mom or Jim's.”
“I promised James that I would not.”
“Okay.” Leonard nods uneasily. “Well.”
“It is fortunate that I am here,” Spock says loftily, “to help 'keep an eye on him'.”
Leonard's grin is bright and nearly-nearly-as infectious as James's. “I guess you're right about that.”
With one last uncertain, measuring stare, Spock leaves to join his friend.
James has already taken over a good portion of the floor, lying on his stomach at the edge of the rug with a box of crayons and several sheets of paper scattered over the hardwood beyond. Spock settles next to him and chooses a sheet of his own, quite content to spend a quiet morning drawing. Every so often he glances over at James, who is working with his lower lip caught between his teeth in a look of intense concentration. The sight sparks something warm in Spock's stomach, and he has to look away to regain his full composure. There is a pencil sitting on the floor as well, though James seems to be ignoring it in favor of the crayons. He will, Spock decides as he picks it up, draw something for James, as thanks for Ta'an.
They have been working quietly for twenty-three minutes-quite possibly, Spock believes, a record for James-when a knock at the door sends Leonard jumping up from his chair. Spock and James exchange a glance, and a moment later Leonard returns with a pretty girl next to him. Her dark hair is shorter than Leonard's and her green eyes warm with her smile. She is entirely unfamiliar to Spock.
“I'm just gonna give Eliana here a tour,” Leonard says. He glances hesitantly at Spock before turning a suspicious eye on James. “Do you think you can keep out of trouble for ten minutes?”
“I have so far,” James shoots back cheekily, which apparently does little to appease Leonard's worries.
“They'll be fine,” Eliana says, smiling as she tugs at Leonard's arm. “They're just sitting here coloring.”
“Yeah, Bones,” James grins, pushing up to his knees. “We'll be fine.”
Despite his obvious misgivings, Leonard allows himself to be led away, and Spock watches as James's eyes linger on the doorway well after the older children are out of sight. He wonders, abruptly, if James finds Leonard's friend attractive. The thought does not sit particularly well with him; the girl is considerably older than they are, and clearly not an appropriate object for James affections.
“I do not recall meeting her before,” he says carefully, and James starts.
“Ah. No.” He glances over at Spock, his cheeks tinted faintly pink. “She's Bones's new girlfriend.”
Spock remembers the girls previously introduced as Leonard's girlfriend, and has determined that the word indicates some level of romantic attachment. It is even less appropriate, then for Jim to harbor any romantic interest of his own towards her. Feeling that it would be impolitic to mention that, however, Spock keeps his thoughts to himself.
“Leonard has new girlfriends quite often,” he says instead, and James nods.
“Yeah, well.” James scratches at his nose. “Most people don't really have long-term relationships until they're way older.”
“I see.” Spock turns purposefully back to his drawing and resolves to put the thought from his mind unless it proves relevant.
He can feel James's eyes on him now as he works. If he concentrates, he can feel his friend's attention through their link, as well. It is . . . odd, but not unpleasant.
“Do you want to go steady?” James says suddenly. He doesn’t blurt it out; in fact, Spock gets the impression that this is something for which he has very carefully prepared himself. But still, it’s sudden. Not to mention perplexing.
“I’m afraid I have yet to acquire the meaning of that particular idiom, James. Please elaborate.”
James’s very serious expression breaks into a brief grin at this mention of Spock’s peculiar hobby. “Going steady. Ah . . .” His mouth twitches as though unsure what shape to take next, and his fingers fiddle absently with the crayon he still holds. It’s an uncharacteristic display of nerves, and Spock finds it . . . fascinating. “What I mean is . . . um, well . . .” He firms his jaw and sets his shoulders then, determined to face this with the same boldness that he shows at all other times. “It means I’m asking you to be my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Spock draws another careful line, connecting the graceful sweep of the prow of the Constitution-class starship to the bulk of the body as he considers. He has seen older children-Leonard and his agemates, mostly-pairing off in such a way, but he still finds the designations “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” to be disturbingly vague. He’s not completely sure what James is asking, and will not answer until he is. James, unsurprisingly, seems unfamiliar with the concept of patience.
“That’s it?” His fingers tighten around his crayon, and his shoulder moves in a single sharp, angry jerk. “Okay, fine. You know, if you don’t want to, you could just say so,” he mutters, bending back over his drawing.
“But I did not say so.” Spock permits himself a small frown, rewarded when his friend’s head whips back up again and bright blue eyes widen at the show of expression on his face. Spock nods decisively then, and turns his attention back to his drawing. He is still considering. “If I were your boyfriend,” he asks after a moment, “does that mean that you would then be my girlfriend?”
“No.” James snorts, a happy, laughing sound, and indeed when Spock looks up again there is a small, mysterious smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “We’d both be each other’s boyfriends. Because we’re both boys,” he says as though confiding something to someone terminally slow. Spock’s reaction is a disdainful lift of his eyebrow.
“And what would being ‘boyfriends’ entail, exactly?”
“Well.” Some of James’s confidence seems to diminish as he visibly searches for an answer. “We’d hang out together. Date-you know, do fun stuff,” he clarifies before Spock can even ask.
“We do that now,” Spock feels compelled to point out, and James frowns.
“It’s not the same.”
“Why?” Spock is not trying to be difficult; he is sincerely curious. James seems to understand that, and Spock reflects with a certain amount of warmth that such instinctive understanding is almost always the case with this one young human boy. “I fail to see the logic in altering the name for our relationship when the relationship itself remains unchanged.”
“It’s not just that. It’s saying, you’re the one I want to spend time with the most. It’s saying that I . . . that I like you better than anyone else. And . . .” His cheeks begin to turn an interesting shade of pink, but his gaze doesn’t drop from Spock’s. “If we were boyfriends, we would maybe, like . . . kiss sometimes.”
Spock can’t help his frustrated sigh. “We do that now,” he repeats, his turn to speak slowly and clearly as though to a small idiot child.
“We . . . I . . . no we don’t!” The astonished reply is very nearly a squeak, something that Spock can’t help but find amusing. Especially when paired with his friend’s wide-open eyes and mouth, an expression that makes his resemblance to Ta’an closer than he would find flattering.
“You have kissed me on multiple occasions,” Spock insists primly, and watches James’s mouth open and close like a fish's.
“I have not!”
James looks and sounds genuinely affronted now. Spock blinks once before he smoothes his face into a calm mask. Perhaps he has misunderstood; perhaps kissing Spock is something that James does not find desirable, after all. Perhaps he had been only willing to tolerate it, because it was expected. Spock had known that he should not have attempted to tease. James may be adept at such maneuvers, but clearly even after so many years Spock is far from being able to attempt such human interaction.
“I think I’d remember if I kissed you,” James is meanwhile going on without pause. “You don’t just . . . it’s not something you just forget. The most I’ve done is hold your hand a couple times, and-”
“That,” Spock informs him, pleased with the ice that he can hear in his own voice, “is how Vulcans kiss.”
James falls silent; utterly, completely silent. Despite his irritation and embarrassment, Spock can’t help but watch in fascination as the pink in James’s cheeks brightens and spreads until his entire face is a vivid red.
“I didn’t . . . I thought I was just . . . hand-holding for humans is just, kind of basic,” he explains weakly.
“I,” Spock says stiffly, if not as coldly as before, “am not a human.”
“Yeah, I know.” James’s eyes flick up to Spock’s ears, but the look isn’t distasteful or disdainful as it is for many of their Terran peers. “I’m sorry,” he says contritely; Spock nods graciously to acknowledge him, as he was taught is polite. “I’ve messed it all up,” James continues morosely. He’s dropped the crayon by now, and he stares down at his empty hands. Spock is able to resist his curiosity for three seconds . . . four . . . five . . .
“What have you ‘messed up’, James?”
The use of his name has James smiling again, though it is not as bright as Spock is used to. “I was supposed to be courting you,” James says sheepishly. Spock lifts both eyebrows, then; thanks to Leonard this, at least, is an Earth term with which he is familiar.
“Oh.”
“It was all Bones’s stupid idea,” James grouses. “He said that if I was going to ask you out I had to lay some groundwork first. I was supposed to be leading up to the whole thing, not accidentally making out with you.”
The salient facts are clicking into place in Spock’s head like tumblers in a lock. James had not known the significance of taking Spock’s hand as he did. That simple truth resolves fully half of the matters upon which Spock has been meditating for the past week. His friend’s confession serves to answer the rest.
“That is why you took me to the aquarium,” he surmises. “And why you gave me Ta’an.”
“Well . . . yeah.” Jim’s blush hasn’t completely died down; his cheeks and the tips of his ears are still vibrantly pink. “Leo said that courting someone means you make sure to do things they like, and maybe get them some little presents so they know you care about them. I’m allergic to most flowers,” he says sheepishly, “and besides, they didn’t seem very . . . I dunno, logical, I guess. But you like fish, so . . .” He shrugs. “And it’s not like I didn’t have fun or anything,” he adds quickly. “I thought the aquarium was really cool, actually.”
Spock considers carefully before he decides that he probably understands. “You wish for us to continue as we have been, excepting the titles of ‘boyfriends’ and more intentional kissing,” he clarifies, just to be sure.
“That about sums it up,” James says, though he doesn’t sound terribly hopeful anymore. Spock nods.
“That is acceptable.”
It should perhaps grow tiresome, seeing his friend constantly gaping at him in such a manner. Yet Spock finds himself hard-pressed to sublimate a giggle. “Are you saying yes?”
“I am. We are now . . . boyfriends.”
The grin that stretches itself across James’s face is blinding in its intensity. It is a look of pure glee, of simple, unadulterated joy.
“Cool,” is what he says.
Spock is unsure what to expect, or what is expected of him. After a moment of waiting he is nearly ready to turn back to the haven of his drawing when the smile on James’s face dims slightly and his hand comes up to hover hesitantly between them.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly.
The question, the hesitation, is so unlike him that for a moment Spock is thrown. But his fingertips tingle in anticipation, and he raises his own hand as he has seen his parents do. James follows suit, three fingers curled in with the first two extended, and their fingers meet in the space between them. There is barely contact at first, just the slightest brush of skin against skin that nevertheless makes Spock’s eyes drift partly shut. James’s lips tremble open, just slightly, and then his fingers curl cool and dry and careful around Spock’s.
The sensation is electric. Spock’s heart is beating hard against his side, faster than is normal by approximately 23.9%. James seems similarly effected: his fingers are trembling faintly against Spock’s skin, and his pupils are slightly enlarged.
Spock is sure that he will never again be so bold as he is in this moment, when he is filled with warmth and affection for the boy beside him. His father taught him at a very young age that any relationship requires both give and take, reciprocity on both ends. It is the idea at the core of diplomatic relations. James has offered him the ease of the familiar in their first kiss, the comfort of Vulcan tradition.
So it is that their second kiss is one entirely human, as Spock leans forward and presses his lips very gently against his friend’s.
James has barely begun to lean into the kiss when the sound of footsteps in the hallway make them pull swiftly apart. Spock can feel the tips of his ears heating, and he leans quickly over his drawing again to hide the flush he is certain is creeping over his face. James's gaze is still a tangible weight on him, his warm, brilliant grin just visible from the corner of Spock's eye. After a moment he turns back to his paper as well, picking up a worn blue crayon just as Leonard and Eliana walk back into the room.
“See?” Spock hears her say quietly, and glances up to see her nudging Leonard with her shoulder. “They're fine.”
Leonard merely grunts suspiciously and drops down onto the sofa, earning a squeal of delighted protest when he pulls Eliana down with him. “You boys set to keep colorin' for a while?”
“Nope.” James makes a few final swipes with his crayon and sits back on his heels. “Finished.” He gestures to it, smiling almost shyly up at Spock now. “I drew it for you. If you want it.”
Spock peers down at the paper, ignoring Eliana's excited, “How cute!” as he examines James's drawing. Two simple stick figures smile back up at him, the ends of their legs resting on a thin swath of scribbled green while a pair of clouds and what Spock presumes is the sun-though why James has given it a face is beyond Spock's understanding-float above their heads. The figure on the left has a thatch of messy yellow hair scrawled on top of its head and what appears to be a copy of the same red sweater that James is wearing at the moment. The one on the right has a neat line of black hair, pointed ears, and robes the same dark grey and purple as Spock's own. Its body is drawn in with thick green lines.
“It's you and me,” James says, almost nervously, and Spock nods.
“Quite obviously.” He lifts his gaze to his friend's-his boyfriend's, he thinks, with a shock of excitement he can not quite repress-and let his approval show in his eyes. “It seems that we have had similar ideas,” he says, and holds up his own finished work.
James blinks at it for a moment, his eyes going wide even as his brow lowers. “Is that . . . did you draw blueprints?”
“Of the Enterprise,” Spock confirms. James still seems slightly confused, and Spock ignores the urge to fidget restlessly. “I have had to work from my memory of the ones your mother obtained for you. I had thought that, as you are fond of them and of watching the ship's construction . . .”
“This is great,” James says decisively, and Spock decides that his smile seems genuine enough to quell the vague unease that had been building within him. “Thanks, Spock. Here, we'll swap.” He holds out his drawing; as Spock takes it in return for his own their fingers slide lightly against each other. Spock keeps from flushing only through strict mental control and a pointed refusal to look directly at his friend.
“Well, if you're finished,” Leonard says, apparently oblivious to the fact that Spock's heart is attempting to beat its way through his side, “what do you wanna do now?”
Spock risks a glance at James, then, and sees the mischievous smile spreading over his face.
“What about Sardines?” he says, making his eyes wide and hopeful. Spock can very nearly see Eliana melting at the expression. “You guys will play with us, right? You can't play Sardines with just two people.”
“Sure we will!” Eliana agrees immediately, and Leonard stares at her incredulously.
“Um. Eli. I was sort of thinkin' we could . . . y'know, just hang out here while the boys play-”
“Oh, come on, Len,” she chides him reproachfully, sliding off of his lap and onto her feet. “It's not going to kill you to play one game, you know.”
“I'll even be 'it' first,” James offers, and Leonard turns a steely gaze on him.
“Oh, no you won't. If you're doing the hiding we'll never find you.”
“Fine.” James heaves a dramatic sigh. “How about Spock? You trust him, don't you?”
As it transpires, Leonard does trust Spock, something that does not work to his favor when Spock wedges himself behind a large pile of boxes in the crawlspace beneath the stairs. James, naturally, finds him first, and for quite some time they crouch there quietly, shoulders pressed together as they take turns glancing at each other and then quickly away. The entire right side of Spock's body feels as though he is standing too close to an electrical current. He is unsure whether it is pleasant or not, but he makes no attempt to move away. And when James leans over to brush a soft, fleeting kiss against the corner of his mouth, Spock feels certain that that electrical current has shot all the way down his spine.
Eli finds them first, and as the space is really too small for three people Leonard finds them quickly after that. It is his turn to be 'it' then, and though he is nowhere near as skilled at hiding neither is Spock particularly skilled at seeking; he does not manage to find anyone until he follows the faint whisper of awareness at the back of his mind and opens the hallway closet to find James and the others grinning back at him.
They play for most of the afternoon, and Spock is 'it' very nearly half the time. He feels as though perhaps he ought to object more to this particular state of affairs, but objection is difficult when he and James are close enough to touch, stealing sneaky kisses with lips and fingers and struggling not to laugh. It seems to Spock almost as though he is stealing these moments, hoarding them against his return home, where he will have to be flawlessly Vulcan once again, calm and cool and emotionless. He soaks up James's touch as if he can store it up for the long months of allowing no more than the brief brush of his mother's hand against his shoulder.
By the time their mothers return Eliana has long since left, and Spock feels almost lightheaded from the flurry of the day's events. He realizes, on a distant level, that he and James are standing nearer each other than usual; he is sharply aware of how often he has to suppress the urge to reach for James's hand with his own. After such a surfeit of touch it is difficult to rein himself in again. He does not miss the fond, knowing looks that their mothers exchange, however, and manages to maintain control.
When his mother knocks on the door to their room while James is bathing, Spock is unsurprised. She settles herself on James's bed and simply looks at him for a moment, an odd mix of fondness and regret painted clearly across her face.
“You know what I'm here to talk to you about,” she says, and Spock inclines his head.
“I had anticipated that you would wish to state your opinion on the matter.”
His mother sighs softly. “Can you tell me what exactly is going on between the two of you?”
Spock straightens his shoulders and looks squarely back at her. “We are boyfriends.”
A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “All right,” she says slowly. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means . . .” Spock hesitates. “James assures me that it is very similar to how things have been up to now. We have, apparently, been very close to being boyfriends before today, though he was apparently unaware that he has been kissing me when he has touched my hands. He wishes to occasionally kiss me more intentionally, and I saw no cause to object.”
His mother raises her fingers to her lips, nodding thoughtfully. “I see,” she says eventually. “Well, that seems . . . very logical.”
Spock relaxes slightly at her pronouncement. “I believe that it is.”
“You understand, though,” she adds after a moment, “why I'm . . . concerned about the two of you developing a relationship that moves beyond friendship, don't you?”
“You do not approve.”
“Spock.” She sighs again. “I love Jim; you know I do. And I love what I see in you when you're around him. If it were up to me . . .” She glances away, and her jaw tightens for a moment before she shakes her head. “I don't want either of you getting your hopes up over this.”
Spock feels a faint wash of guilt at the mild rebuke. “I am aware of my situation,” he says. “James assures me that a committed, long-term relationship is not expected in Humans until adulthood.”
“Well. I suppose that's true. Still, I want your word that you'll be responsible with this, Spock.”
He draws himself up again, affronted at last. “Certainly, mother. Had you expected me to behave otherwise?”
“No, Spock.” His mother's expression unsettles him; it is soft, almost pitying, and he does not fully understand it. “I didn't expect anything else.”
>>Part 13
Author: ladyblahblah
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot . . . ish
Pairing: Spock/Kirk
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The title is from a William Carlos William poem. I can't even take full credit for the idea, and all of the adorable can be traced directly to momo_girlie and her painfully cute drawings. *fangirl flail*
Summary: Vague A/U. What would have happened if Kirk and Spock had known each other as children? Yes, another one of those.
Author's Note: The first part of my help_japan fill is being beta'd right now, and while I was waiting I figured I might as well work on something else, and then this chapter was finished. o_O Weird how that happens sometimes. Possibly it happened this time because it contains THE VERY FIRST THING I EVER WROTE FOR IT OMG. Back when I had just discovered momo_girlie 's art and was in full-on squee mode and decided I had to write something about it right now. I sent it to her, and we started talking about turning it into a proper fic, and then it like got into the medicine cabinet and took a bunch of growth hormone or something and I don't even know why that was in the medicine cabinet in the first place but that's pretty much what happened. Yeah. So, if you're still reading this madness, know that a line/partial scene from this chapter was inspired by Let the Right One In, and I will give epic bonus points to anyone who can spot it. Also, for those keeping track, this is the picture that inspired the whole thing. (Also, this is more or less Ta'an. FYI.)
Part 1│Part 2│Part 3│Part 4│Part 5│Part 6│Part 7│Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
Spock sits with his school work spread over the table in front of him, books and PADDs filled with differential equations and warp physics and ancient history. The rest of the house is sleeping; but as happens once a week without fail, Spock finds that his circadian rhythm has left him entirely awake. This is, he assures himself, for the best, as it provides him with the necessary opportunity to see to his studies. Though James is, on the whole, in turns supportive of and fascinated by the amount of work Spock must accomplish to keep up with his peers, he often seems to find it difficult to keep from becoming a distraction. Were he here with Spock now, he would almost certainly attempt to pull him away from his studies and into another, far more frivolous activity.
But James is asleep, and waking him up simply to prove a hypothesis would be highly illogical.
Spock turns back to his work, but his attention is caught instead by the brightly-colored fish swimming in the glass bowl that he has situated at the end of the table. Over the past three days he has carried the bowl with him whenever possible. His mother has allowed him to do so with a certain amount of bemused tolerance, but James has seemed extremely pleased at Spock's attachment to his present.
He has been studying for some time now, Spock decides. A break would be permissible.
It is remarkably pleasant to watch her swim, as Spock had immediately discovered when James had presented him with her. Her body is a deep, dark blue that lightens in her tail and along the delicate fins at her back that wave gracefully as she moves, or whip dramatically when she gives a sudden burst of speed. The fins below her belly fade from blue to purple and finally to red. He has named her Ta'an.
James had been quite adamant that she required a name, despite Spock's eminently logical argument that as she could not hear him speak it and respond, a name seemed entirely superfluous. However, James had insisted, and eventually Spock had given in. Unpracticed in the exercise, Spock is still not entirely certain if his choice of the Vulcan word for 'gift' is appropriate. James had declared it a fine name, however, and Spock is willing to defer to his expertise.
Reluctantly, Spock turns back to his PADD. His peers, he knows, will be working as diligently as ever in his absence. Though his emotional outburst and the ensuing physical altercation had put a stop to the overt torments that he had endured for years, Spock is not so foolish as to believe that the attitudes behind them have changed. He is therefore determined to provide them with no further ammunition. His test scores are among the highest in his age group; soon, he will surpass them all. In order to do that, however, he must focus.
When he feels James's sleeping thoughts seek him out he permits himself a small smile, and refocuses his attention on his notes about the Time of Awakening.
He has moved on to spatial ruptures by the time James shuffles bleary-eyed in from the kitchen, a bowl of cereal clutched in his hands.
“'Morning,” he says, and his jaw stretches in a wide, dramatic yawn. He smiles when he sees Ta'an, and Spock very nearly smiles back.
“I trust you slept well,” Spock says politely, closing his notes and setting them aside.
“Yeah. Weird dreams, though.” James peers at the neat stacks of Spock's work. “I think there was something about Vulcan. But we were like . . .” He gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Warriors or something.”
Spock raises an intrigued eyebrow. “I have been studying ancient Vulcan history,” he offers. “Perhaps that influenced your dreams. Were we at war?”
James is focused on his cereal now, and shakes his head without looking up. “No. We were just . . . sort of hanging out.” He lifts the bowl to his mouth, drinking the leftover milk in one long swallow. “Where are our moms?”
“They are still in your mother's lab, though I believe they will be leaving soon. Leonard is due to arrive by ten o'clock.”
“Bones!” James sits upright in his chair, letting the bowl fall to the table with a clatter. “Right. I forgot.”
“You forgot that Leonard is meant to be supervising us today?” Spock asks doubtfully.
“Not exactly. But . . .” James glances over his shoulder in the way that Spock has learned means he is afraid of being overheard. “Okay, you can't tell our moms.”
“I believe they are already aware, as they were the ones to request his assistance.”
“Not that,” James says, rolling his eyes, and Spock enjoys a wholly illogical sense of accomplishment at his successful teasing. Then James leans forward, and Spock finds himself mimicking the move. “You can't tell them that Bones is having a girl over later,” he finishes in a low voice.
Spock tilts his head slightly, confused. “Why not?” he asks, echoing Jim's tone as well as his posture.
“Because our moms probably wouldn't like it. And because I sort of promised.”
“If our parents would be opposed to the idea, why would you agree to conceal it?”
“Reciprocity,” James says, rolling his eyes, and shrugs. “Besides, it's not like we really need a babysitter. We can look after ourselves. C'mon, Spock, promise you won't tell?”
Spock hesitates. Despite James's claim, it is quite clear to Spock that one of them, at least, does require supervision. On the other hand, he does not believe that Leonard would be so irresponsible as to allow them to come to any actual harm. However, if Leonard does prove to be too easily distracted by his friend, Spock believes that his own influence should be enough to keep James from doing anything egregiously foolish, such as jumping off of the roof or lighting anything on fire.
“Very well,” he says, sitting back with a nod. “I promise.”
Spock watches Leonard carefully when he arrives an hour later, attempting to discern if anything in his demeanor seems to indicate a higher level of irresponsibility than normal. The older boy seems as self-possessed and alert as ever, however, and Spock allows himself to relax. Nevertheless, he assures himself, he will be on alert for anything resembling potentially dangerous behavior on James's behalf and be ready to deal with it accordingly.
“We'll be gone for most of the day,” Jim's mother is saying as Leonard nods his understanding. “You have the number for the 'Fleet offices, and we'll call if we're going to be late. Jim's upstairs getting dressed-I hope. Do I have everything?”
“You've checked your bag five times, Winona,” Spock's mother says without bothering to hide her amusement. “Honestly, I don't know why you're so nervous; it's the same presentation you've given every week for the past month.”
“Never for the brass before,” Jim's mother mutters. “Something you should empathize with,” she adds, pointing an accusatory finger, “after your meeting with the Terran Educational Secretary.”
“Fair enough.” Spock's mother's eyes turn to him, then, and she gives him a soft smile. “Be good, and keep an eye on Jim while we're gone.”
“Thought that's what I was here for,” Leonard grins, and both women laugh.
“It can never hurt to have more than one person looking after my son,” James's mother says.
“I don't get in that much trouble.” They all turn as James clatters his way down the stairs, a faint frown turning down his mouth, and their mothers laugh even harder.
“Be good, Jimmy.” James's mother drops a kiss on the top of his head as he sulks. “You too, Spock,” she chuckles, and James rolls his eyes and retreats to the living room.
“Good luck,” Leonard offers as they leave the house. He turns away as the door closes behind them, and starts when he finds Spock still watching him. They stare at each other for a long moment. “So.” Leonard clears his throat. “I guess Jimmy told you?”
“He informed me that you are 'having a girl over later'.”
“And I guess since they didn't say anything about it that you didn't tell your mom or Jim's.”
“I promised James that I would not.”
“Okay.” Leonard nods uneasily. “Well.”
“It is fortunate that I am here,” Spock says loftily, “to help 'keep an eye on him'.”
Leonard's grin is bright and nearly-nearly-as infectious as James's. “I guess you're right about that.”
With one last uncertain, measuring stare, Spock leaves to join his friend.
James has already taken over a good portion of the floor, lying on his stomach at the edge of the rug with a box of crayons and several sheets of paper scattered over the hardwood beyond. Spock settles next to him and chooses a sheet of his own, quite content to spend a quiet morning drawing. Every so often he glances over at James, who is working with his lower lip caught between his teeth in a look of intense concentration. The sight sparks something warm in Spock's stomach, and he has to look away to regain his full composure. There is a pencil sitting on the floor as well, though James seems to be ignoring it in favor of the crayons. He will, Spock decides as he picks it up, draw something for James, as thanks for Ta'an.
They have been working quietly for twenty-three minutes-quite possibly, Spock believes, a record for James-when a knock at the door sends Leonard jumping up from his chair. Spock and James exchange a glance, and a moment later Leonard returns with a pretty girl next to him. Her dark hair is shorter than Leonard's and her green eyes warm with her smile. She is entirely unfamiliar to Spock.
“I'm just gonna give Eliana here a tour,” Leonard says. He glances hesitantly at Spock before turning a suspicious eye on James. “Do you think you can keep out of trouble for ten minutes?”
“I have so far,” James shoots back cheekily, which apparently does little to appease Leonard's worries.
“They'll be fine,” Eliana says, smiling as she tugs at Leonard's arm. “They're just sitting here coloring.”
“Yeah, Bones,” James grins, pushing up to his knees. “We'll be fine.”
Despite his obvious misgivings, Leonard allows himself to be led away, and Spock watches as James's eyes linger on the doorway well after the older children are out of sight. He wonders, abruptly, if James finds Leonard's friend attractive. The thought does not sit particularly well with him; the girl is considerably older than they are, and clearly not an appropriate object for James affections.
“I do not recall meeting her before,” he says carefully, and James starts.
“Ah. No.” He glances over at Spock, his cheeks tinted faintly pink. “She's Bones's new girlfriend.”
Spock remembers the girls previously introduced as Leonard's girlfriend, and has determined that the word indicates some level of romantic attachment. It is even less appropriate, then for Jim to harbor any romantic interest of his own towards her. Feeling that it would be impolitic to mention that, however, Spock keeps his thoughts to himself.
“Leonard has new girlfriends quite often,” he says instead, and James nods.
“Yeah, well.” James scratches at his nose. “Most people don't really have long-term relationships until they're way older.”
“I see.” Spock turns purposefully back to his drawing and resolves to put the thought from his mind unless it proves relevant.
He can feel James's eyes on him now as he works. If he concentrates, he can feel his friend's attention through their link, as well. It is . . . odd, but not unpleasant.
“Do you want to go steady?” James says suddenly. He doesn’t blurt it out; in fact, Spock gets the impression that this is something for which he has very carefully prepared himself. But still, it’s sudden. Not to mention perplexing.
“I’m afraid I have yet to acquire the meaning of that particular idiom, James. Please elaborate.”
James’s very serious expression breaks into a brief grin at this mention of Spock’s peculiar hobby. “Going steady. Ah . . .” His mouth twitches as though unsure what shape to take next, and his fingers fiddle absently with the crayon he still holds. It’s an uncharacteristic display of nerves, and Spock finds it . . . fascinating. “What I mean is . . . um, well . . .” He firms his jaw and sets his shoulders then, determined to face this with the same boldness that he shows at all other times. “It means I’m asking you to be my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Spock draws another careful line, connecting the graceful sweep of the prow of the Constitution-class starship to the bulk of the body as he considers. He has seen older children-Leonard and his agemates, mostly-pairing off in such a way, but he still finds the designations “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” to be disturbingly vague. He’s not completely sure what James is asking, and will not answer until he is. James, unsurprisingly, seems unfamiliar with the concept of patience.
“That’s it?” His fingers tighten around his crayon, and his shoulder moves in a single sharp, angry jerk. “Okay, fine. You know, if you don’t want to, you could just say so,” he mutters, bending back over his drawing.
“But I did not say so.” Spock permits himself a small frown, rewarded when his friend’s head whips back up again and bright blue eyes widen at the show of expression on his face. Spock nods decisively then, and turns his attention back to his drawing. He is still considering. “If I were your boyfriend,” he asks after a moment, “does that mean that you would then be my girlfriend?”
“No.” James snorts, a happy, laughing sound, and indeed when Spock looks up again there is a small, mysterious smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “We’d both be each other’s boyfriends. Because we’re both boys,” he says as though confiding something to someone terminally slow. Spock’s reaction is a disdainful lift of his eyebrow.
“And what would being ‘boyfriends’ entail, exactly?”
“Well.” Some of James’s confidence seems to diminish as he visibly searches for an answer. “We’d hang out together. Date-you know, do fun stuff,” he clarifies before Spock can even ask.
“We do that now,” Spock feels compelled to point out, and James frowns.
“It’s not the same.”
“Why?” Spock is not trying to be difficult; he is sincerely curious. James seems to understand that, and Spock reflects with a certain amount of warmth that such instinctive understanding is almost always the case with this one young human boy. “I fail to see the logic in altering the name for our relationship when the relationship itself remains unchanged.”
“It’s not just that. It’s saying, you’re the one I want to spend time with the most. It’s saying that I . . . that I like you better than anyone else. And . . .” His cheeks begin to turn an interesting shade of pink, but his gaze doesn’t drop from Spock’s. “If we were boyfriends, we would maybe, like . . . kiss sometimes.”
Spock can’t help his frustrated sigh. “We do that now,” he repeats, his turn to speak slowly and clearly as though to a small idiot child.
“We . . . I . . . no we don’t!” The astonished reply is very nearly a squeak, something that Spock can’t help but find amusing. Especially when paired with his friend’s wide-open eyes and mouth, an expression that makes his resemblance to Ta’an closer than he would find flattering.
“You have kissed me on multiple occasions,” Spock insists primly, and watches James’s mouth open and close like a fish's.
“I have not!”
James looks and sounds genuinely affronted now. Spock blinks once before he smoothes his face into a calm mask. Perhaps he has misunderstood; perhaps kissing Spock is something that James does not find desirable, after all. Perhaps he had been only willing to tolerate it, because it was expected. Spock had known that he should not have attempted to tease. James may be adept at such maneuvers, but clearly even after so many years Spock is far from being able to attempt such human interaction.
“I think I’d remember if I kissed you,” James is meanwhile going on without pause. “You don’t just . . . it’s not something you just forget. The most I’ve done is hold your hand a couple times, and-”
“That,” Spock informs him, pleased with the ice that he can hear in his own voice, “is how Vulcans kiss.”
James falls silent; utterly, completely silent. Despite his irritation and embarrassment, Spock can’t help but watch in fascination as the pink in James’s cheeks brightens and spreads until his entire face is a vivid red.
“I didn’t . . . I thought I was just . . . hand-holding for humans is just, kind of basic,” he explains weakly.
“I,” Spock says stiffly, if not as coldly as before, “am not a human.”
“Yeah, I know.” James’s eyes flick up to Spock’s ears, but the look isn’t distasteful or disdainful as it is for many of their Terran peers. “I’m sorry,” he says contritely; Spock nods graciously to acknowledge him, as he was taught is polite. “I’ve messed it all up,” James continues morosely. He’s dropped the crayon by now, and he stares down at his empty hands. Spock is able to resist his curiosity for three seconds . . . four . . . five . . .
“What have you ‘messed up’, James?”
The use of his name has James smiling again, though it is not as bright as Spock is used to. “I was supposed to be courting you,” James says sheepishly. Spock lifts both eyebrows, then; thanks to Leonard this, at least, is an Earth term with which he is familiar.
“Oh.”
“It was all Bones’s stupid idea,” James grouses. “He said that if I was going to ask you out I had to lay some groundwork first. I was supposed to be leading up to the whole thing, not accidentally making out with you.”
The salient facts are clicking into place in Spock’s head like tumblers in a lock. James had not known the significance of taking Spock’s hand as he did. That simple truth resolves fully half of the matters upon which Spock has been meditating for the past week. His friend’s confession serves to answer the rest.
“That is why you took me to the aquarium,” he surmises. “And why you gave me Ta’an.”
“Well . . . yeah.” Jim’s blush hasn’t completely died down; his cheeks and the tips of his ears are still vibrantly pink. “Leo said that courting someone means you make sure to do things they like, and maybe get them some little presents so they know you care about them. I’m allergic to most flowers,” he says sheepishly, “and besides, they didn’t seem very . . . I dunno, logical, I guess. But you like fish, so . . .” He shrugs. “And it’s not like I didn’t have fun or anything,” he adds quickly. “I thought the aquarium was really cool, actually.”
Spock considers carefully before he decides that he probably understands. “You wish for us to continue as we have been, excepting the titles of ‘boyfriends’ and more intentional kissing,” he clarifies, just to be sure.
“That about sums it up,” James says, though he doesn’t sound terribly hopeful anymore. Spock nods.
“That is acceptable.”
It should perhaps grow tiresome, seeing his friend constantly gaping at him in such a manner. Yet Spock finds himself hard-pressed to sublimate a giggle. “Are you saying yes?”
“I am. We are now . . . boyfriends.”
The grin that stretches itself across James’s face is blinding in its intensity. It is a look of pure glee, of simple, unadulterated joy.
“Cool,” is what he says.
Spock is unsure what to expect, or what is expected of him. After a moment of waiting he is nearly ready to turn back to the haven of his drawing when the smile on James’s face dims slightly and his hand comes up to hover hesitantly between them.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly.
The question, the hesitation, is so unlike him that for a moment Spock is thrown. But his fingertips tingle in anticipation, and he raises his own hand as he has seen his parents do. James follows suit, three fingers curled in with the first two extended, and their fingers meet in the space between them. There is barely contact at first, just the slightest brush of skin against skin that nevertheless makes Spock’s eyes drift partly shut. James’s lips tremble open, just slightly, and then his fingers curl cool and dry and careful around Spock’s.
The sensation is electric. Spock’s heart is beating hard against his side, faster than is normal by approximately 23.9%. James seems similarly effected: his fingers are trembling faintly against Spock’s skin, and his pupils are slightly enlarged.
Spock is sure that he will never again be so bold as he is in this moment, when he is filled with warmth and affection for the boy beside him. His father taught him at a very young age that any relationship requires both give and take, reciprocity on both ends. It is the idea at the core of diplomatic relations. James has offered him the ease of the familiar in their first kiss, the comfort of Vulcan tradition.
So it is that their second kiss is one entirely human, as Spock leans forward and presses his lips very gently against his friend’s.
James has barely begun to lean into the kiss when the sound of footsteps in the hallway make them pull swiftly apart. Spock can feel the tips of his ears heating, and he leans quickly over his drawing again to hide the flush he is certain is creeping over his face. James's gaze is still a tangible weight on him, his warm, brilliant grin just visible from the corner of Spock's eye. After a moment he turns back to his paper as well, picking up a worn blue crayon just as Leonard and Eliana walk back into the room.
“See?” Spock hears her say quietly, and glances up to see her nudging Leonard with her shoulder. “They're fine.”
Leonard merely grunts suspiciously and drops down onto the sofa, earning a squeal of delighted protest when he pulls Eliana down with him. “You boys set to keep colorin' for a while?”
“Nope.” James makes a few final swipes with his crayon and sits back on his heels. “Finished.” He gestures to it, smiling almost shyly up at Spock now. “I drew it for you. If you want it.”
Spock peers down at the paper, ignoring Eliana's excited, “How cute!” as he examines James's drawing. Two simple stick figures smile back up at him, the ends of their legs resting on a thin swath of scribbled green while a pair of clouds and what Spock presumes is the sun-though why James has given it a face is beyond Spock's understanding-float above their heads. The figure on the left has a thatch of messy yellow hair scrawled on top of its head and what appears to be a copy of the same red sweater that James is wearing at the moment. The one on the right has a neat line of black hair, pointed ears, and robes the same dark grey and purple as Spock's own. Its body is drawn in with thick green lines.
“It's you and me,” James says, almost nervously, and Spock nods.
“Quite obviously.” He lifts his gaze to his friend's-his boyfriend's, he thinks, with a shock of excitement he can not quite repress-and let his approval show in his eyes. “It seems that we have had similar ideas,” he says, and holds up his own finished work.
James blinks at it for a moment, his eyes going wide even as his brow lowers. “Is that . . . did you draw blueprints?”
“Of the Enterprise,” Spock confirms. James still seems slightly confused, and Spock ignores the urge to fidget restlessly. “I have had to work from my memory of the ones your mother obtained for you. I had thought that, as you are fond of them and of watching the ship's construction . . .”
“This is great,” James says decisively, and Spock decides that his smile seems genuine enough to quell the vague unease that had been building within him. “Thanks, Spock. Here, we'll swap.” He holds out his drawing; as Spock takes it in return for his own their fingers slide lightly against each other. Spock keeps from flushing only through strict mental control and a pointed refusal to look directly at his friend.
“Well, if you're finished,” Leonard says, apparently oblivious to the fact that Spock's heart is attempting to beat its way through his side, “what do you wanna do now?”
Spock risks a glance at James, then, and sees the mischievous smile spreading over his face.
“What about Sardines?” he says, making his eyes wide and hopeful. Spock can very nearly see Eliana melting at the expression. “You guys will play with us, right? You can't play Sardines with just two people.”
“Sure we will!” Eliana agrees immediately, and Leonard stares at her incredulously.
“Um. Eli. I was sort of thinkin' we could . . . y'know, just hang out here while the boys play-”
“Oh, come on, Len,” she chides him reproachfully, sliding off of his lap and onto her feet. “It's not going to kill you to play one game, you know.”
“I'll even be 'it' first,” James offers, and Leonard turns a steely gaze on him.
“Oh, no you won't. If you're doing the hiding we'll never find you.”
“Fine.” James heaves a dramatic sigh. “How about Spock? You trust him, don't you?”
As it transpires, Leonard does trust Spock, something that does not work to his favor when Spock wedges himself behind a large pile of boxes in the crawlspace beneath the stairs. James, naturally, finds him first, and for quite some time they crouch there quietly, shoulders pressed together as they take turns glancing at each other and then quickly away. The entire right side of Spock's body feels as though he is standing too close to an electrical current. He is unsure whether it is pleasant or not, but he makes no attempt to move away. And when James leans over to brush a soft, fleeting kiss against the corner of his mouth, Spock feels certain that that electrical current has shot all the way down his spine.
Eli finds them first, and as the space is really too small for three people Leonard finds them quickly after that. It is his turn to be 'it' then, and though he is nowhere near as skilled at hiding neither is Spock particularly skilled at seeking; he does not manage to find anyone until he follows the faint whisper of awareness at the back of his mind and opens the hallway closet to find James and the others grinning back at him.
They play for most of the afternoon, and Spock is 'it' very nearly half the time. He feels as though perhaps he ought to object more to this particular state of affairs, but objection is difficult when he and James are close enough to touch, stealing sneaky kisses with lips and fingers and struggling not to laugh. It seems to Spock almost as though he is stealing these moments, hoarding them against his return home, where he will have to be flawlessly Vulcan once again, calm and cool and emotionless. He soaks up James's touch as if he can store it up for the long months of allowing no more than the brief brush of his mother's hand against his shoulder.
By the time their mothers return Eliana has long since left, and Spock feels almost lightheaded from the flurry of the day's events. He realizes, on a distant level, that he and James are standing nearer each other than usual; he is sharply aware of how often he has to suppress the urge to reach for James's hand with his own. After such a surfeit of touch it is difficult to rein himself in again. He does not miss the fond, knowing looks that their mothers exchange, however, and manages to maintain control.
When his mother knocks on the door to their room while James is bathing, Spock is unsurprised. She settles herself on James's bed and simply looks at him for a moment, an odd mix of fondness and regret painted clearly across her face.
“You know what I'm here to talk to you about,” she says, and Spock inclines his head.
“I had anticipated that you would wish to state your opinion on the matter.”
His mother sighs softly. “Can you tell me what exactly is going on between the two of you?”
Spock straightens his shoulders and looks squarely back at her. “We are boyfriends.”
A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. “All right,” she says slowly. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means . . .” Spock hesitates. “James assures me that it is very similar to how things have been up to now. We have, apparently, been very close to being boyfriends before today, though he was apparently unaware that he has been kissing me when he has touched my hands. He wishes to occasionally kiss me more intentionally, and I saw no cause to object.”
His mother raises her fingers to her lips, nodding thoughtfully. “I see,” she says eventually. “Well, that seems . . . very logical.”
Spock relaxes slightly at her pronouncement. “I believe that it is.”
“You understand, though,” she adds after a moment, “why I'm . . . concerned about the two of you developing a relationship that moves beyond friendship, don't you?”
“You do not approve.”
“Spock.” She sighs again. “I love Jim; you know I do. And I love what I see in you when you're around him. If it were up to me . . .” She glances away, and her jaw tightens for a moment before she shakes her head. “I don't want either of you getting your hopes up over this.”
Spock feels a faint wash of guilt at the mild rebuke. “I am aware of my situation,” he says. “James assures me that a committed, long-term relationship is not expected in Humans until adulthood.”
“Well. I suppose that's true. Still, I want your word that you'll be responsible with this, Spock.”
He draws himself up again, affronted at last. “Certainly, mother. Had you expected me to behave otherwise?”
“No, Spock.” His mother's expression unsettles him; it is soft, almost pitying, and he does not fully understand it. “I didn't expect anything else.”
>>Part 13