FIC: Azimuth, Chapter Two-B
Title: Azimuth, Chapter Two-B
Author: rainbowstrlght
Rating: R
Word Count: 98,003
Warnings: Um, angst. There is a lot of it. Arguing/discord, body possession, vague talks of suicide/martyrdom.
Masterlist: Here
Mom orders pizza, which thankfully we can get half-vegan so Spock doesn’t starve to death. Spock explained this to me some time ago-that his culture respected all forms of life, and that meant not even using their by-products, as cultivation would be a form of enslavement.
But personally I think cheese is fucking delicious, so-sorry, Spock.
“I do not wish to impose my values on others,” Spock says later as we enter the Volvo, just leaving Mom’s place to go to the River House.
I shake my head. “I didn’t take it that way. Just-“ I gesture with a hand as I dip down into the car. “Was just saying, that’s all.”
“To assert your values in return,” Spock says as he looks in the rearview mirror, backing the car out of the driveway.
I squint at him-it’s language and an attitude like that, you know? I don’t think I was asserting anything. Then again, it’s not like Spock was forcing vegan pizza down my throat, so what was the point?
Except that sometimes I feel like I have to watch what I say-perhaps too closely.
“If we are starting our discussion at this moment, then I would counter that a bond should not be afraid to share anything-and by the same token, not fear being challenged.”
I guess Spock has a point. If anyone should challenge me it should be my spouse, right?
But as we get on the highway towards the River House and I watch farmland whir by, I think about how it’d be nice for Spock to agree with me about something. Anything at all.
“I enjoyed the music you left in my vehicle two weeks ago.”
I look over at Spock-yeah, this mind thing will take forever to get used to.
“You liked System of a Down?” I say skeptically, imagining Spock turning on the Volvo after I had randomly driven it to a gas station for munchies, only to hear rough screaming from the lead singer as he protested war and corporate greed.
“The lead singer’s method of conveying a message was not what I usually prefer, but the music was melodic and conveyed more than simple screaming.”
“Did you listen to the lyrics, though?” I hedge, thinking this has to be some mistake on Spock’s part, or he’s just pulling my leg.
“Despite the format of the music, they seemed to be advocating against injustice.”
I purse my lips-okay, I’ll give Spock that. “My political science teacher had us dissect their lyrics for extra credit.”
“Your former teacher sounds like an interesting individual.” At that Spock looks over at me, his gaze saying much more than anything he could’ve stated.
We were having a conversation, and I was more than a mere passenger in his car. The glance said as much-that he expected me to respond, and that he cared about what I thought.
Again, makes me wonder how bad this “talk” is going to get.
“I am not intending to sabotage you.”
I tick a finger at him. “Okay, I’ve known you long enough to know you speak vague for a reason.”
And when Spock doesn’t answer it only adds to my anxiety and hesitation-that this convo was going to be über bad. Like, having to compromise by twisting my arm and hurting, kind of bad. Snakebite.
But the River House looks beautiful at night, the white siding glowing against the darkness of the thicket. The Mississippi roars in the background, the rocky shoreline the only barrier between us and the rushing river. The lights from inside shine through the massive, wall-length windows, making the place even more a picture-perfect version of something out of Architectural Digest.
To be honest, the house kind of creeps me out. It is stoic and sterile, and quite obvious to anyone that pays attention that no one truly lives there. It’s like visiting a fancy hotel, with its lack of lived-in details borderline uncomfortable.
“We could have this conversation on the Enterprise.”
But I know Spock would not prefer it, as the River House is generally empty this time of night. Likely it is only Pike in there, as opposed to a ship full of 1,000 other crewmembers.
I heft myself out of the Volvo, being careful to close the door, and then follow Spock up to the house. He leads, which is different for him. Normally we walk side-by-side, in tandem, more on equal footing with each other.
But Spock opens the glass door for me, and I walk through with cautious fingertips easing the door shut behind me.
“Spock, is that you?” I hear Captain Pike’s voice call from another room, and it seems like such a strange question to me. Pike seemingly always knows where everyone is.
But out from the kitchen comes Mrs. Robbins, followed by Pike in a white apron-the last, and most ridiculous thing I expected to never see him in.
Spock straightens once he enters. “Captain.”
“Have to take advantage of the kitchens if I’ve got ‘em.” He turns to me, pointing with a green oven mitt. “You’ll find replicator food gets stale after a while.”
“Tell me about it.” No Cheetos in the future is making me cry already.
Pike looks between the two of us, then asks Spock, “You guys eat?”
“We had dinner at Winona Malloy’s house.”
“Shame. I went all out with a pasta maker and made tofu ravioli.”
“That would have been amenable,” Spock says, but then gives me a side-ways glance. “However, we were hoping to use this space for some discussion.”
I want to roll my eyes-way to go, Spock. Might as well announce to your Captain that we plan on cuddling afterwards, too.
But as Spock gives me a confused look, predictably Mrs. Robbins and Pike share one of their own.
“We’ll get out of your hair, then.” Pike rips off the mitt. “Although if you don’t mind, I’d like a word with Jim first.”
Oh, that sounds fantastic. But Spock only nods, moving off with Mrs. Robbins into the living room as she calls his attention for some report or another.
Mrs. Robbins-actually Commander Robbins. Will I ever get used to that in the future? Along with being obviously played and man-handled here.
Pike leads me into the spacious kitchen, hovering near the middle island that has a tray wrapped in aluminum foil.
“I’ll put this in the fridge, in case you guys work up an appetite.”
God, I don’t want to know what he means by that.
But Pike is smiling, humming to himself as he sets the container in the huge fridge-they really went all-out with this place. I kind of wonder what they’ll do with it once they leave. Sell it? But maybe that would be interfering with history, or something.
“So,” Pike starts, shoving the oven mitt in a drawer. “How’s your mom?”
I lean against the counter opposite him. “She’s doing great. Getting a lot of business at work, I guess.”
“Astrology, isn’t it?” Pike chuckles to himself with that. “She was a navigator on the Kelvin, I guess that makes some sense.”
“Does astrology exist in the future?” Because I am genuinely curious, and also hoping that Pike forgets whatever he wanted to say.
“It does, actually.” He leans against the sink across from me and tucks his hands under folded arms. “Many cultures still believe in the practice. And no matter what Spock tells you, Vulcans were right there with ‘em some centuries ago.”
I smirk at that. “Spock had a reading done.”
“Did it say he’s an impeccable perfectionist? Or that he has emotions just underneath the surface, roiling with turmoil?”
There’s a tone to Pike’s voice that lets me know he is only partially joking, and I consider this carefully-Spock is within mental earshot, after all.
“Um… something like that.”
Pike lowers his voice. “Spock has been through a lot. He will really need an emotional anchor.” There’s a slow smile. “You coming along reassures me a bit.”
That makes me smile back. Although I never got the impression of disapproval from any of the crew, only Gaila and Bones have been really vocal with their support.
Well, as supportive as Bones can get by pointing out that his liquor cabinet is open once I turn eighteen. You know, to cope with it all.
“On the other hand, you coming along might pose some issues.”
Pike says this with his smile dropping, and my smile drops too. I knew it.
“Look, I’m not your father, and I’m not Spock. But I’m just as concerned about what’s going to happen to you as they are-or would be.”
Pike looks earnest when he says it, and yet I feel like I am getting the father-in-law speech, with his crossed arms completing the look.
“Do you both have any plans yet?”
I shrug. “We were going to talk about that.”
“You’ll have to complete your schooling once we get back. Which might be intensive and have you graduating in a few years, as opposed to in a few months. You’ll have a lot of catch-up.”
“Gaila has been helping me,” I counter, because fuck-like I don’t know I’ll be a fish out of water.
“Gaila is not a certified instructor, although her marks at the Academy were superb.” He quirks a lip at that. “Her I.Q. is off the charts, but she’s devious. She was one of the few involved in the con of the Kobayashi Maru, actually.”
I frown at the name. “What’s that?”
“A test that cadets go through. It’s an impossible situation, meant to show a cadet’s character in the face of danger and an unwinnable scenario. They are marked on how they experience fear as they’re going down with their ship.”
“But it’s just a simulation?”
“Indeed.”
I don’t get it. “Then what’s there to be afraid of?”
For some reason that makes Pike smile broader, on the verge of laughing. “You are so much like Sam.”
There’s a part of me that draws back from the name. Sam, my brother whom I only met once-and that once was the unspeakable horror of seeing him melt before my eyes, disintegrated by Nero’s laser.
Pike gestures with his hand, as if conjuring the memory. “Your brother was a top student at the Academy. Very smart, very much the model student. Graduated valedictorian of his class. Unbelievable kid.”
At that Pike stops, as if considering the right words. “Except there was always a thorn in his side.”
I take a guess. “The Kobayashi Maru?”
Pike ticks a finger at me. “Bingo.”
“Because it’s an unwinnable test.”
“Sam didn’t like failing anything. He felt that if he tried hard enough, he could overcome any obstacle in his path. He didn’t believe in the unwinnable.”
I smile at that-I would agree with Sam. I would agree with my brother, and that simultaneously makes me feel closer to him, and yet keenly feel his absence.
“So when your brother was defeated by the Kobayashi Maru, he didn’t take too kindly to that.”
Several scenarios run through my head. I know what I would do, but that didn’t mean Sam would attempt the same thing.
Pike gives me the side-eye. “Just for curiosity’s sake-what would you do, if you were in your brother’s position?”
I think about that a moment. With it being a hypothetical scenario, it’s not like I couldn’t admit to cheating. On the other hand I likely would attend Starfleet, and Pike is connected to it by proxy, and so would know how I’d hack that damn test.
So I settle on something that perhaps makes it seem more reasonable. “I would consider changing the parameters of the test, in order to make the process more fair and applicable to real life.”
Well, it sounded good in my head. But Pike has a look of disbelief, before laughing loudly.
“You Kirks! We’ve got to watch out for you, obviously.” Pike grins. “Because I believe that would still be cheating… which is exactly what Sam did.”
I gape at that. “How did he pull it off?”
Pike has a tinge of amusement in his voice, although I can tell he is holding some of it back. “Well, Sam decided that if the test only allowed for one end scenario, that therefore it classified itself as a cheat. So Sam decided to go outside of the test parameters to reveal the test for what it was.”
I hold my breath. “Did he hack the computer?”
“He not only hacked it, he changed the attacking vessels in the scenario to be charging unicorns-“ Pike starts giggling uncontrollably. “With laser beams shooting out of their eyes.”
Oh my god, my brother was a troll. “Did he beat the test, then?”
Pike wheezes a laugh. “Not even. Instead he had all his friends in the scenario, pretending to be fearless in the face of rampaging unicorns-complete with Uhura receiving transmissions from the unicorn ships-“ Pike takes a minute to regain his breath. “Neighing their demands.”
I join in on his uproarious laughter, ignoring the question marks in my head from Spock. It was hilarious for many reasons, but above all of them was a sense of pride that my brother had been a fucking genius. Where I would’ve just hacked the test to fit my own needs, Sam had somehow done the same and garnered respect, from Pike of all people.
He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb. “In the end, while Spock was appalled with Sam for hacking the parameters of his test-“
“Spock?”
“Oh, Spock designed that test, thinking it was entirely logical. But once he tried to draw up your brother to the school board for cheating, they only laughed at him-then commended your brother in front of the entire class.”
I could only shake my head in awe. Cheating and getting accolades for it? Talk about brilliant.
But I had to ask: “So what happened to Sam?”
Pike waves a hand. “He had to write a formal apology to Spock, and then retake the test under regulated parameters. But the point was made, and now very few cadets feel bad about failing that test.”
That only gives me warm fuzzies, stupidly enough. That Sam thought beyond cheating, and instead wanted to make others feel better about themselves.
Who the fuck was Sam? Mister fucking Rogers?
“So you’re saying this test is a sore spot for Spock?”
Pike shakes his head. “On the contrary, by the time Sam retook the test they had formed a tentative friendship.”
Something blooms in my chest at the image. That Spock had actually been friends with my brother, instead of just being a crewmember or rival. That Sam had somehow hacked his test, and yet Spock didn’t get mad about it.
Like Spock constantly gets mad at me.
“That’s incredible,” I say, not showing the let-down that is going on in my head. That maybe Spock-
“Your brother was really something, Jim,” Pike says quietly, his smile growing smaller as he seems lost in thought, likely remembering somebody that I’ll never know.
That everybody knows better than me, perhaps likes more than me.
“Anyway,” Pike stands straight from the counter, snapping out of his reverie. “We can start formally educating you on the Enterprise, but once you come back to our Earth you’ll need a tutor.”
“Is there a tutor on the Enterprise?”
Pike stares at me, and suddenly I feel like I hit a proverbial nail on the head.
“There are no tutors on starships, Jim.” He watches me carefully. “You’d have to stay on Earth.”
That hadn’t been what I meant at first. But now the reason for Pike’s concern is incredibly clear.
“You’re wondering if Spock is going to stay with me,” I say carefully, watching Pike as he watches me. “You don’t want to lose your science officer.”
Pike takes a deep breath, likely stalling to answer that question-but fuck it.
“I don’t intend to hold Spock back.” And saying the words is unclogging something from my chest, and I’m choking on emotion. “I never wanted to prevent him from doing what he wants to do.”
“Jim-“
“He can be your science officer and then come back for me,” I rush out, unable to catch my breath. “Maybe I can work hard and graduate by then.”
The thought terrifies me. I don’t want to be alone on Earth-this Earth that I don’t know. And despite Spock’s assurances the night before, I still had this immense fear that the pull of space would eventually be too much for him to ignore.
“Captains assign their crew, and you would have to have top marks-“
“I will,” I grit out from clenched teeth. “I’ll do what I have to.”
“Because Jim, very few spouses travel together in space. More often than not they take space station jobs and lower positions to make it work-“
“What do you want me to do?” I blurt out, the frustration bleeding into my tone. “What is it that you’re getting at? That Spock is going to leave me alone, or that you won’t take him on because of me, or-“
“I’m just preparing you for the realities of being married to someone in Starfleet!” Pike says tersely back, leaning towards me with intensity throughout his frame. “You don’t think your Mom dealt with the same thing?”
I let that sting, an intake of breath stuttering and burning my chest. I am so angry, and Spock is constantly knocking on the mental door, and fuck-
“It’s like Eurelia and me, Jim,” Pike says carefully, as if he just realizes he is yelling at me. “We were separated for years when we first got married.”
“And now you’re on the same ship,” I say weakly, because I don’t really have enough facts, but I don’t want to give up.
He takes a deep breath with that, staring me straight in the eye. “Starfleet was never meant for families, Jim. You could say that Eurelia and I got lucky. Most situations like ours end in divorce.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t really get a divorce.” I sniff, because the whole damn conversation is just too painful. “And what sort of advice-giver are you, anyway? It’s like you’re preparing us for being miserable.”
Pike enters my personal space, making sure I see him as he enunciates, “Exactly.”
I fold my arms across my chest, staring straight back at him-Fuck Captain Pike. Fuck him and his ideas. He could be right, but damn him for making me feel fucking guilty about it. Especially since there’s no way I can even possibly change it. What did he expect?
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Jim-“
“Shut up.”
Okay, not my brightest line, but it could’ve come out way worse. Especially since Pike’s eyes soften, start to look apologetic-fuck no. Fucking no apologies for that bullshit.
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and with that I’ve had enough.
“You know it’s fucking impossible odds that Spock and I even met each other, right?” I spit out, trying to control my temper. “In this universe of impossibilities, I refuse to think that we’re just some grand mistake. Not when Spock and I have this connection, and it’s supposed to be a connection he can’t have with anyone else.”
I stand up straight, and Pike leans away instinctively.
“I understand it’s going to fucking suck, but we have no choice-we’ve got to make it work.” I love him, and I’m going to make it work.
At that, of course Spock enters-not looking pleased at perhaps the most unromantic line in history.
He stands at the doorway of the kitchen, posture like a ruler as he looks to his captain for an explanation.
It’s nothing, Spock.
“Commander Robbins has arranged for your transport,” Spock says crisply, each word bitten out for strained politeness. “You may join her in the living room when you are ready.”
There is a slight satisfaction at the tone, although it is only pissing off Spock more that he can’t seem to control himself with his Captain.
But Pike only gives Spock a nod before turning back to me. He says quietly, “I apologize if I’ve offended you. That wasn’t my intention.”
Fuck off.
“None taken, Captain,” I say with faux cheerfulness, and Pike gets the point. He passes me after one last look, and I watch as Pike has to pass Spock in the doorway.
“See you at 2200, Commander.”
“Captain,” Spock acknowledges, but Pike moves past him quickly and towards the living room.
It’s only when we hear the transporter beams that Spock moves into the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back.
“I conclude that we were set up.”
I lean back against the counter, rubbing my forehead. “You think?”
“I deduce that the Captain gave you a similar speech as Commander Robbins gave to me.”
I peek out from behind my hand. “She cornered you, too?”
Spock found a spot next to me, but didn’t lean as his eyes wandered the kitchen. “Indeed.”
A silence descends, and I can feel the buzzing of similar thoughts and impressions mingling in our heads. I can’t read Spock at the moment-I’m still fucking upset-but I can tell he didn’t like the conversation he had, either.
“So?” I say, when all I fucking want at the moment is for Spock to put his arms around me. All fucking cheesy like, but damn, a hug would be nice right now.
Spock reaches up an arm, a hand settling on my shoulder. I can tell Spock is out of his comfort zone, and so I help him out-moving into his space, my face burrowing in the crook of neck and shoulder.
I am so overwhelmed with problems and issues and questions. The thought of holding Spock back like I’m some helpless child is so insulting, and at the same time painful to consider. It would be the last thing I’d want, and yet I also don’t want to be alone.
Maybe that does make me a child.
“You are entering a new century,” Spock says quietly, one arm still holding my bicep and not yet reaching towards my back. “In some ways your understanding will be like a child’s.”
I want to melt into the floor, and at the same time set it on fire with the fuel of my frustration.
“You have no choice, as you have stated, and you have no means to better or change your circumstance.”
How fucking romantic. Spock, you are the worst pep-talk giver ever.
“However, I do not see how you would be unable to overcome those obstacles.”
Well… that sounds a bit better.
I raise my head, my face so close to Spock’s with the motion, and I am grateful that Spock doesn’t lean away. Instead he finds my gaze, holding it with his amber eyes.
I am watching the green in them, just as the green is watching me.
“I don’t want to hold you back,” I say quietly. And a part of my chest clenches, not wanting to hear the answer to that statement-the only logical answer that I can determine, that Spock must know, too.
At that Spock lowers his eyes, and my heart drops. Until I realize he is staring at my mouth as his other hand whispers a touch under my chin, keeping me from looking away.
“It is not ‘holding back’,” he says simply, a fingertip tracing the edge of my jaw, entirely too distracting. “Holding back would entail that you would never become educated, or have the abilities to exceed in Starfleet.”
I swallow, entirely too aware of Spock’s fingertips finding the nape of my neck. “But I can’t do that right now.”
Spock hums the affirmative. “Impatience would agree with your position.”
There is something about the way he says it-the assertion that I would get his humor, the fact that he can employ a play on words as well as anyone else. That Spock said it specifically for me, in an attempt to shift my focus towards something more optimistic.
And it works. I feel my heart become lighter as his fingertips uncharacteristically caress the back of my neck, the action soothing and comforting and everything that I exactly needed.
“Okay,” I say softly, my eyes now watching his mouth. “Then tell me how we’re doing this.”
I suck in my bottom lip, remembering the pressure of his lips on mine the night before-the way I wish they would kiss me now, sealing the past hour and throwing it away behind us.
Instead his fingers stop their ministrations, and his hand slides to my shoulder. “I have thought over the matter. But perhaps we should move to another location?”
The kitchen is cozy in a sense, but I know Spock wants the ability to sit down in his room. Next to the wall that has one large window, looking out over the trees that no doubt will be soothing as we discuss things.
I nod. “Lead the way.”
At that Spock does lean down for a kiss-surprising me somehow, yet the surprise makes it sweeter. His lips are soft, undemanding, and I find they are exactly what I need-what I’ve wanted this entire time.
It blitzes my senses, and Spock pulls away too quickly for me. I open my eyes to see him leaning away, his hands sliding down my arms until a circle of fingers grips my wrist.
He mentally nudges me to follow him, and we walk quietly through the empty River House. There is low lighting throughout the entire place, running lights bordering the hallways and guiding our way. I look out the windows as Spock leads me towards the stairs, my eyes trying to discern the river, only to see incredible darkness.
The stairs are carpeted and silence our footfalls, and it is almost like a walking meditation. Spock doesn’t let my wrist go, despite its impracticality on the stairs. Once we reach the landing, turning to find his room, he still doesn’t loosen his grip.
I could lead you to his room exactly, having been there several times over the last month. Can picture the arrangement in my mind’s eye, know there is a chaise and table and bookcase, and that long, long window.
Spock opens the door with his other hand, but instead of leading me through it, motions for me to go first.
The first time this happened I was trapped in a conversation I didn’t want to hear, and couldn’t necessarily believe. Spock revealed that he, Pike, Bones, and everyone else were from the future, and they had followed my father’s killer all the way to current-day Earth.
My father’s killer-that had been another fact I hadn’t known, and hadn’t wanted to hear. I denied it over and over again, until Spock removed his white skullcap and showed me those pointed, Vulcan ears.
Ears now covered as I watch Spock close the door to his room, trapping us once again.
“You are always free to leave.”
Easier said than done, when I’d have to walk all the way home from the middle of nowhere.
“I would not strand you.”
And just like last time, Spock is reading my thoughts to his advantage. An ability I didn’t quite understand before, and still don’t fully comprehend now.
I can feel his sense of honesty and earnestness. It puts me more at ease from that first time, when I was so entirely frustrated from not knowing any answers, and being scared to death by non-connecting evidence.
“Would you like to sit?”
I contemplate the chaise, where the pillows look comforting. But instead of sitting there, I grab both throw pillows and hand over one to Spock.
He’s confused until I go over to sit before the window, cross-legged on the floor with the pillow in my lap. It takes him a moment before he follows, his lean legs bending and tucking gracefully under him.
It’s closer and more intimate, which I need with a discussion like this.
“I see,” Spock murmurs, the pillow laying flat in his lap as he places folded hands upon it.
The running lights bordering the room provide a faint enough glow to see each other’s faces. It is like we lit candles, but perhaps a 23rd-century equivalent.
“I have candles in my quarters,” Spock states, and I can only smile at him.
“It’s an ambiance thing.”
He raises an eyebrow, seeing how I connected the dots in my head. That is one benefit of this, actually. Spock rarely misunderstands my intent unless one of our heads is too clouded by emotion.
“There are many benefits to our bond,” Spock says, watching my hands fiddle with the ribbon trim of the pillow. “I am not sure I have explained them adequately.”
It’s only been a month, mostly a month of adjusting. I guess I can’t fault him.
“We have many years to explore and adjust-” Spock bites off that sentence, and it is strangely and endearingly human, seeing him consider his words. “During this past month, perhaps I have not been as accommodating.”
“Running to the science labs?”
“It is where I can… enter an alternative meditative state.”
“Lost in your work?”
“Precisely.” Spock watches my expression, and I know there’s a certain expectation for what comes next.
I sigh. “Okay, maybe I suck at trying to fit in.”
I sense that hit a wrong note, and I try again. “I suck at trying to adapt to your world.”
“It is not a matter of… doing so inadequately.” Spock avoids the word with some distaste. “It is perhaps more a sense of not even attempting at all.”
Ouch. But maybe I deserved that one.
“Okay,” I say, letting it hang in the air. Because suddenly the whole damn thing is starting to sound too adult, and I know I’ll soon get pretty damn snarky and defensive in retaliation.
“I am aware that the situation is awkward for you.”
Okay, maybe that defensiveness is encroaching now.
Spock gives me a pointed look. “I have also experienced being in a strange world, without buffers or guidance.”
I try to imagine what this experience would be. Vulcans are members of the Federation, I know that.
Spock looks out towards the trees. “I am the only Vulcan in Starfleet.”
Oh.
“I went from a culture that embraces the calm of Surakian principles to planet Earth, where it was a conglomeration of many who disapprove of such things.”
I envision Spock at school, and how he sticks out like a sore thumb at times. If that’s just a building full of Humans, I can’t imagine how it’s like with several other races.
“Starfleet Academy houses over a hundred distinct species.”
My head spins attempting to fathom it. “That sounds hard.”
Spock nods. “I traveled to Earth alone in order to attend the Academy. It was not as I envisioned it, and my first year was… exasperating.”
I can feel the echoes of tiredness as Spock states it, the weariness and expectation of facing an uphill battle every day.
“You must have really wanted to go there.”
“Indeed. I had been accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, but it was Starfleet which seemed best for my pursuits.”
I sense an inkling of bitterness, and when I mentally nudge Spock to explain it, I get the keen sense that the Vulcans had been insulting and ostracizing.
“Man, that sucks.”
“It was against the wishes of my father that I attended Starfleet. And thus, as Humans would say in my time-and perhaps yours-I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
My mind is still reeling at a rebellious Spock as I smile in fondness. “We still have that expression, too.”
Spock looks back at me, catching my eyes as the mood suddenly changes-the meaning behind Spock’s tone suddenly changes.
“When I speak of your experiences and predicament, please know that I do not speak of them lightly or without gravitas.”
That statement, for some reason, hits me square in the chest. It occurs to me how little I truly know about Spock. That Spock could have these experiences hidden from me, and I would have no idea.
“As you have mentioned several times previously, we have only known each other a short span of time.”
But the reality of it only makes me want to know more. It is not daunting, but only fills me with wonder at this person I have somehow bonded with.
Spock shifts his gaze. “I have often thought the same.”
It is said sincerely, yet my doubt peeks through. “You know so much about me already, from what happened with my dad.”
Spock shakes his head. “There is information that strangely does not appear in history books.”
And for whatever fucking reason, I find that the most romantic line I’ve ever heard. Spock wants to know about me-the real me. Not this person that he could pull up on his database, or the person I am rumored to have been in San Fran or even in Riverside.
Fuck, that’s amazing.
“It is an area we will have to patiently explore in the future,” Spock states solemnly, and it fills my chest with butterflies.
The future.
“We have not yet discussed what will happen once we have arrived in my time.”
I swallow, a burst of what Pike said stumbling through my head, trying to bring down the moment.
“Captain Pike is a remarkable individual,” Spock says quietly. “But his role as Captain requires him to recruit whom he deems to be best suited for his vessel.”
“That’s you,” I answer, knowing full well that Spock is awesome at his job. Nobody had to tell me that, it is just pure observation in how the Enterprise absorbs his life.
“Starfleet has been my… home for the last decade.” I know the word home surprises him, and he has to take a moment for the admission. “My intent was to spend my life serving an organization that I feel promotes peace and scientific advancement for the common good.”
“You still can,” I say quietly, trying to quash inner protests of my own interests. “Pike says it’s hard to get picked for his ship.”
“I was extremely fortunate.”
Spock lets that hang in the air, and it doesn’t really help my guilt.
He turns his head sharply at that. “You assume that I will be degrading myself due to our relationship.”
A sinking feeling drops in my stomach-yeah, maybe I had assumed.
“I inferred last night that I would not abandon you, and yet you persist in that belief.”
“It’s because-“ I gesture wordlessly with a hand, knowing that actual words will likely come out wrong. “You want to be in space, and yet I can’t be in space.”
“This is true.”
I feel the great need to jump up and pace, but I grip my pillow instead. “So how is that I’m not degrading you, or holding you back?”
Spock purses his lips at the statement, and I can feel the cogs turning in his head. There’s a part of me that feels that if he has to take this long to come up with something, then perhaps he shouldn’t bother at all.
“I am considering my words carefully, so that there is no room for doubt. Although I suspect the Human mind will likely infer and read into whatever I state, regardless.”
It takes me a moment, but I squint eyes at him. “You’re choosing the wrong moment to mock me, Spock.”
There is a soft huff as he looks out the window. “Family is important to me.”
The statement seems so out of left field. “Because of your mother?”
“My mother was my closest family member for many years.” I notice his hands start to mimic mine, tugging at the corded edge of his pillow. “Now that she has passed, I have realized that I have isolated myself.”
I lean in, entirely too intrigued with this line of thought. “Your father is still alive, right?”
Spock nods, but it is accompanied by an uneasy feeling. “We are not… on familiar terms.”
“You’re not close.”
“It will be a situation we must remedy,” Spock admits, although I sense he dislikes the idea. “As we are one of the few remaining members of our clan, it is essential we become more acquainted.” There is a slight quirk of his lip. “As he is an ambassador, perhaps he can guide our negotiations.”
I huff a laugh. Sharing a bond with him has revealed more of his sense of humor, and it is one of the things I absolutely adore about him.
“Do you know how many of your clan survived?”
“We were caught in hostilities with Nero too soon after my planet imploded. But I have heard various estimates of survivors, including those that we beamed aboard the Enterprise.”
There is a great sense of loss, and I am almost afraid to ask for a number.
“I have heard of estimates as high as 10,000 refugees… out of my planet of six billion.”
I gulp in air at the figures. Fuck, 10,000 might be the population of my neighborhood in San Fran.
“It is not clear which clans are among them.”
“I’m so sorry, Spock,” I whisper, because I feel the pain keenly-Spock’s pain. The pain that I knew he was hiding, leaking out against his will.
At this he turns to me. “You are my family now, Jim. While there are some bonds I must foster, I am also inclined to strengthen bonds that I have chosen. In fact, I prefer it.”
It takes me a moment to register all of that. But when I do, I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort.
Family is what you choose it be, really. It’s how Mom and I absorbed Frank into our lives-how Ruth Salinas had been like a sister for the longest time. Now it’s Gaila, and Bones, Scotty and Nyota-and now Spock. People who would be hard to replace; whom I couldn’t dream of replacing.
“If we are in agreement on that term, then you must realize I would not choose, nor desire, to abandon you once we reach 23rd century Earth.”
I see his reasoning, but I am still stuck on other facts. “You may not want to, but what if you have to? Like, Starfleet orders it?”
“I would resign from Starfleet.”
I flail at that. “No way. No fucking way, Spock.”
“I do not see an option-“
“First off, I appreciate what you’re saying.” And it’s true. The fact that Spock would resign from Starfleet for me? Goddamn if that isn’t reassuring. “But I always heard that marriage goes both ways.”
“We are not technically married.”
“Relationships, then. That isn’t just one person doing all the giving, and the other person all the taking.”
That sounds good to my ears, but Spock still seems doubtful.
“Second, what sort of person would I be to allow you to give up something you’ve worked so hard for, all because of me?”
“It would be my decision.”
“Yeah, but if I’m involved, why can’t I decide too?”
Spock opens his mouth several times, and from the babble in our heads I know that he thinks I’ll take offense. And hell, maybe I would.
“My point is-we’re going to do this together. Not just you making decisions, or just what’s best for me.” I lean so close that our knees almost touch. “I don’t need a parent in the 23rd century, I need a friend and companion. I need you to trust and rely on me, just like I do with you.”
There’s a soft hum in our bond, and I know that Spock is earnestly considering that.
“Resignation is my last resort,” he confesses, and I’m relieved. “I do not believe that our previous plans will fall through in order to necessitate such.”
“Yeah, okay-“and this seems like the opportune time to bring it up, “so I’m finishing school and trying to get into Starfleet.”
“I have no doubts you can accomplish such.”
Damn, Spock is really winning tonight. More compliments like that and he’ll home run.
“But what are you going to do, Spock?” I watch his expression, and when he’s silent I elaborate. “I mean, when I’m in school and everything. That takes years.”
Spock looks down at the pillow again, and he doesn’t stop his hands from fiddling.
“I am currently an instructor at the Academy.”
At that I knit my brows together. “Captain Pike made it sound like you’ve been in space.”
“I have,” he says. “However there is time between assignments while a ship is outfitted for a mission.”
There is something not being said here. “Were you waiting for an assignment?”
Spock doesn’t look up at me. “Three months before recent events, I had been invited to a post and accepted.”
I don’t understand the reticence of this until I click pieces together. “Pike asked you, didn’t he? It wasn’t just for Nero-you went with him because you were already assigned.”
Spock meets my eyes. “Yes.”
At that I shake my head, determined. “Then there’s no way you can go back to teaching.”
“I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, but you finally got an assignment you’ve been waiting for.”
“There will be many more assignments.” And as I’m about to protest further, Spock interrupts. “Despite what my captain has insinuated, he is speaking in terms of a pre-Nero mind set.”
I’m not sure what this means, but Spock elaborates.
“The incident with Nero destroyed a fleet of starships, and a large portion of the graduating class. That is approximately three thousand who are no longer in Starfleet, and thus three thousand who can no longer be assigned-especially to 15 starships destroyed in the conflict.”
It dawns on me. “Starfleet will have to rebuild, and that tilts the power of demand.”
“Even if we increased our recruitment, I highly doubt I would face an issue of reassignment in five years.”
It sounds good and reassuring, I’ll give Spock that. But there is something else… something I can’t guess. It is a sensation of a word on the tip of my tongue, yet I don’t have Spock’s brain to will it forth.
And Spock isn’t helping me. “In the meantime while you are pursuing your studies, I will teach. When you graduate we can evaluate our options at that time.”
I tap my fingers together, trying to think all that through. It is certainly what I wanted Spock to say. It sounds wonderful. The next five years sound like plenty of time to adjust to where I’m living, and to adjust to our relationship.
But I side-eye Spock. I let him know that I feel he’s hiding something, and that I’ll eventually squirrel it out.
“If you are in agreement, then I can move forward with plans once we reach my time.”
His mind offers as a distraction an image of his place: A small apartment on campus, tidy and empty and cold.
I let him distract me-for now.
“Are we allowed to live together when you’re teaching?”
“I am uncertain. But considering our bond, it might warrant special circumstances.”
I think about living with Spock a moment. How all that time alone together could be really nice, or we could drive each other up the wall.
Like earlier.
Spock finally reaches over, fingertips tracing a vein at the top of my hand. “It is my sincere belief that we will fight, but it will not be without reason or necessary growth.”
Spock has a point. Look at us now-I could’ve wrung his neck earlier, but it all came down to this simple silence that we shared now, with him tracing my hand and caressing my wrist, and the breath leaving my chest.
I love him.
“And I, you,” Spock says quietly, looking up from his fingertips to meet my gaze.
The moment is almost too beautiful for a kiss, but I lean forward for one anyway, happy when I meet him halfway. I close my eyes, reveling in the soft pressure that eventually opens up, with Spock licking my mouth for a deeper and longer kiss.
It smolders every vein in my body, like the heat I feel beneath my palms as I slide them down Spock chest, wanting to press myself against him and meld our bodies together. I get up on my knees, itching to get closer, but Spock’s hands on my waist push me back down.
“We have other matters to discuss,” he says, his voice satisfyingly husky to my deprived senses.
“I’m all ears,” I say, leaning forward again as Spock puts up a hand.
“Jim.”
I huff, but settle back down on my haunches. “Okay, what else?”
He hesitates, and I know it has to deal with our recent arguments.
I blow a raspberry. “Boundaries.”
“When you are on the Enterprise, I wish for you to respect my commanding officers and my role as one of them.”
I want to protest that I’ve done such-but yeah, yelling back at Pike in the kitchen might just prove Spock’s point.
Which is bullshit, as I’m not a member of the crew. But Spock gives me a look, and I know he won’t let this go.
“I’ll try, Spock. Although you have to realize that I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”
Spock considers that. “That is reasonable. I will point out your digressions in the future so you may take note of them.”
I hate the your that rolls so easily off his tongue, but I know that Spock is not being purposefully accusatory.
“All right, as long as I can do the same for you.”
Spock raises an eyebrow at that, and I know in his mind he finds the notion ludicrous. But I remind him of the spirit of compromise, and so Spock minutely nods.
“If such an incident arises.”
“Like this morning?” I say, suddenly reminded of one of the reasons Spock had been so irked with me.
Spock is tight-lipped, but he mutters, “Yes, when we stopped for your beverage.”
“What was up with that?” I lean back, my arms behind me at an angle. “I’ve just seen her a few times and thought she looked interesting.”
“I sensed a different sort of interest.”
“Spock-I don’t know how it works in your century, but when I say I’m gay, I totally mean it.”
Spock looks towards the trees, and it suddenly dawns on me.
“… Are you not gay?”
“I have only had one long-term relationship, which was with my betrothed.”
A woman, from what I had garnered a month ago.
“So does that mean you like women, too?”
Spock grips his pillow in agitation. “It does not matter, as you and I are bonded.”
I shake my head as I sit up, trying to catch his eye. “Uh, Spock, hate to break it to you, but just because we’re bonded doesn’t mean we still don’t have hormones.”
I feel the unexpected singe from that remark hit my head, Spock leaning back instinctively as I register that it stung him.
“Hey, hey-“ I put out a hand. “Look, I was just saying that I’m still going to find people attractive and flirt with them. But that doesn’t mean I want to be with them, or that I love you less, or don’t want to just be with you-“
Spock bristles. “I see.”
Then why are you still acting like a hedgehog?
“I am glad we had this conversation.” Spock tosses his pillow to the side, but I move in and pounce on him.
“Na-uh, not when you’re angry.” He looks appalled, but I tap my noggin. “This goes both ways, and you’re still pissed with me.”
“I am not angry.” His face doesn’t convince me, and he looks shiftily to the side.
I touch his chin, making our eyes meet. “I love you, Spock. You’re my one and only. And I was just pointing out where you went waaaay off-base.”
Spock looks at a strand of hair that’s fallen on my forehead, and I huff air in the space between us, making him squirm.
“How are we supposed to be honest with each other-and you point out my digressions-if we’re just going to take offense and not think about them?”
With that, I feel the metaphorical light bulb go off in Spock’s head. But of course from his face he’ll never admit it.
“I will consider what you have said.”
I grin, pushing Spock’s chest back so he is leaning on his forearms. “There you go.”
“Cheeky.”
“Oh, thank you Mister Spock, for being agreeable.”
I’ve climbed into his lap, and Spock looks arrested as he stares at me-and I like that look. The way he is devouring my expression with his eyes, the way his hand instinctively comes up to touch my waist.
“Jim.”
“Hmm?” I tilt my head to mouth at his pulse, but just as my breath skates skin he pushes me off.
“I am scheduled for the Enterprise in an hour.”
I am lying on my side on the floor, watching as Spock has stood up, brushing off his jeans and turtleneck, looking way too composed for what I wanted to do.
Damn. It’s not like I’d keep him forever.
“I will drive you home.” And with that Spock gives me a pointed look-that this discussion, at least, is over.
I get up regretfully, sighing dramatically as I walk towards him. “Can I file another digression?”
“I believe we should impose a limit,” Spock mutters, then leads me down the stairs.
Maybe he’s right, as I can guess we’d both have a list about a mile-long.
Chapter Three | Masterlist
Author: rainbowstrlght
Rating: R
Word Count: 98,003
Warnings: Um, angst. There is a lot of it. Arguing/discord, body possession, vague talks of suicide/martyrdom.
Masterlist: Here
Mom orders pizza, which thankfully we can get half-vegan so Spock doesn’t starve to death. Spock explained this to me some time ago-that his culture respected all forms of life, and that meant not even using their by-products, as cultivation would be a form of enslavement.
But personally I think cheese is fucking delicious, so-sorry, Spock.
“I do not wish to impose my values on others,” Spock says later as we enter the Volvo, just leaving Mom’s place to go to the River House.
I shake my head. “I didn’t take it that way. Just-“ I gesture with a hand as I dip down into the car. “Was just saying, that’s all.”
“To assert your values in return,” Spock says as he looks in the rearview mirror, backing the car out of the driveway.
I squint at him-it’s language and an attitude like that, you know? I don’t think I was asserting anything. Then again, it’s not like Spock was forcing vegan pizza down my throat, so what was the point?
Except that sometimes I feel like I have to watch what I say-perhaps too closely.
“If we are starting our discussion at this moment, then I would counter that a bond should not be afraid to share anything-and by the same token, not fear being challenged.”
I guess Spock has a point. If anyone should challenge me it should be my spouse, right?
But as we get on the highway towards the River House and I watch farmland whir by, I think about how it’d be nice for Spock to agree with me about something. Anything at all.
“I enjoyed the music you left in my vehicle two weeks ago.”
I look over at Spock-yeah, this mind thing will take forever to get used to.
“You liked System of a Down?” I say skeptically, imagining Spock turning on the Volvo after I had randomly driven it to a gas station for munchies, only to hear rough screaming from the lead singer as he protested war and corporate greed.
“The lead singer’s method of conveying a message was not what I usually prefer, but the music was melodic and conveyed more than simple screaming.”
“Did you listen to the lyrics, though?” I hedge, thinking this has to be some mistake on Spock’s part, or he’s just pulling my leg.
“Despite the format of the music, they seemed to be advocating against injustice.”
I purse my lips-okay, I’ll give Spock that. “My political science teacher had us dissect their lyrics for extra credit.”
“Your former teacher sounds like an interesting individual.” At that Spock looks over at me, his gaze saying much more than anything he could’ve stated.
We were having a conversation, and I was more than a mere passenger in his car. The glance said as much-that he expected me to respond, and that he cared about what I thought.
Again, makes me wonder how bad this “talk” is going to get.
“I am not intending to sabotage you.”
I tick a finger at him. “Okay, I’ve known you long enough to know you speak vague for a reason.”
And when Spock doesn’t answer it only adds to my anxiety and hesitation-that this convo was going to be über bad. Like, having to compromise by twisting my arm and hurting, kind of bad. Snakebite.
But the River House looks beautiful at night, the white siding glowing against the darkness of the thicket. The Mississippi roars in the background, the rocky shoreline the only barrier between us and the rushing river. The lights from inside shine through the massive, wall-length windows, making the place even more a picture-perfect version of something out of Architectural Digest.
To be honest, the house kind of creeps me out. It is stoic and sterile, and quite obvious to anyone that pays attention that no one truly lives there. It’s like visiting a fancy hotel, with its lack of lived-in details borderline uncomfortable.
“We could have this conversation on the Enterprise.”
But I know Spock would not prefer it, as the River House is generally empty this time of night. Likely it is only Pike in there, as opposed to a ship full of 1,000 other crewmembers.
I heft myself out of the Volvo, being careful to close the door, and then follow Spock up to the house. He leads, which is different for him. Normally we walk side-by-side, in tandem, more on equal footing with each other.
But Spock opens the glass door for me, and I walk through with cautious fingertips easing the door shut behind me.
“Spock, is that you?” I hear Captain Pike’s voice call from another room, and it seems like such a strange question to me. Pike seemingly always knows where everyone is.
But out from the kitchen comes Mrs. Robbins, followed by Pike in a white apron-the last, and most ridiculous thing I expected to never see him in.
Spock straightens once he enters. “Captain.”
“Have to take advantage of the kitchens if I’ve got ‘em.” He turns to me, pointing with a green oven mitt. “You’ll find replicator food gets stale after a while.”
“Tell me about it.” No Cheetos in the future is making me cry already.
Pike looks between the two of us, then asks Spock, “You guys eat?”
“We had dinner at Winona Malloy’s house.”
“Shame. I went all out with a pasta maker and made tofu ravioli.”
“That would have been amenable,” Spock says, but then gives me a side-ways glance. “However, we were hoping to use this space for some discussion.”
I want to roll my eyes-way to go, Spock. Might as well announce to your Captain that we plan on cuddling afterwards, too.
But as Spock gives me a confused look, predictably Mrs. Robbins and Pike share one of their own.
“We’ll get out of your hair, then.” Pike rips off the mitt. “Although if you don’t mind, I’d like a word with Jim first.”
Oh, that sounds fantastic. But Spock only nods, moving off with Mrs. Robbins into the living room as she calls his attention for some report or another.
Mrs. Robbins-actually Commander Robbins. Will I ever get used to that in the future? Along with being obviously played and man-handled here.
Pike leads me into the spacious kitchen, hovering near the middle island that has a tray wrapped in aluminum foil.
“I’ll put this in the fridge, in case you guys work up an appetite.”
God, I don’t want to know what he means by that.
But Pike is smiling, humming to himself as he sets the container in the huge fridge-they really went all-out with this place. I kind of wonder what they’ll do with it once they leave. Sell it? But maybe that would be interfering with history, or something.
“So,” Pike starts, shoving the oven mitt in a drawer. “How’s your mom?”
I lean against the counter opposite him. “She’s doing great. Getting a lot of business at work, I guess.”
“Astrology, isn’t it?” Pike chuckles to himself with that. “She was a navigator on the Kelvin, I guess that makes some sense.”
“Does astrology exist in the future?” Because I am genuinely curious, and also hoping that Pike forgets whatever he wanted to say.
“It does, actually.” He leans against the sink across from me and tucks his hands under folded arms. “Many cultures still believe in the practice. And no matter what Spock tells you, Vulcans were right there with ‘em some centuries ago.”
I smirk at that. “Spock had a reading done.”
“Did it say he’s an impeccable perfectionist? Or that he has emotions just underneath the surface, roiling with turmoil?”
There’s a tone to Pike’s voice that lets me know he is only partially joking, and I consider this carefully-Spock is within mental earshot, after all.
“Um… something like that.”
Pike lowers his voice. “Spock has been through a lot. He will really need an emotional anchor.” There’s a slow smile. “You coming along reassures me a bit.”
That makes me smile back. Although I never got the impression of disapproval from any of the crew, only Gaila and Bones have been really vocal with their support.
Well, as supportive as Bones can get by pointing out that his liquor cabinet is open once I turn eighteen. You know, to cope with it all.
“On the other hand, you coming along might pose some issues.”
Pike says this with his smile dropping, and my smile drops too. I knew it.
“Look, I’m not your father, and I’m not Spock. But I’m just as concerned about what’s going to happen to you as they are-or would be.”
Pike looks earnest when he says it, and yet I feel like I am getting the father-in-law speech, with his crossed arms completing the look.
“Do you both have any plans yet?”
I shrug. “We were going to talk about that.”
“You’ll have to complete your schooling once we get back. Which might be intensive and have you graduating in a few years, as opposed to in a few months. You’ll have a lot of catch-up.”
“Gaila has been helping me,” I counter, because fuck-like I don’t know I’ll be a fish out of water.
“Gaila is not a certified instructor, although her marks at the Academy were superb.” He quirks a lip at that. “Her I.Q. is off the charts, but she’s devious. She was one of the few involved in the con of the Kobayashi Maru, actually.”
I frown at the name. “What’s that?”
“A test that cadets go through. It’s an impossible situation, meant to show a cadet’s character in the face of danger and an unwinnable scenario. They are marked on how they experience fear as they’re going down with their ship.”
“But it’s just a simulation?”
“Indeed.”
I don’t get it. “Then what’s there to be afraid of?”
For some reason that makes Pike smile broader, on the verge of laughing. “You are so much like Sam.”
There’s a part of me that draws back from the name. Sam, my brother whom I only met once-and that once was the unspeakable horror of seeing him melt before my eyes, disintegrated by Nero’s laser.
Pike gestures with his hand, as if conjuring the memory. “Your brother was a top student at the Academy. Very smart, very much the model student. Graduated valedictorian of his class. Unbelievable kid.”
At that Pike stops, as if considering the right words. “Except there was always a thorn in his side.”
I take a guess. “The Kobayashi Maru?”
Pike ticks a finger at me. “Bingo.”
“Because it’s an unwinnable test.”
“Sam didn’t like failing anything. He felt that if he tried hard enough, he could overcome any obstacle in his path. He didn’t believe in the unwinnable.”
I smile at that-I would agree with Sam. I would agree with my brother, and that simultaneously makes me feel closer to him, and yet keenly feel his absence.
“So when your brother was defeated by the Kobayashi Maru, he didn’t take too kindly to that.”
Several scenarios run through my head. I know what I would do, but that didn’t mean Sam would attempt the same thing.
Pike gives me the side-eye. “Just for curiosity’s sake-what would you do, if you were in your brother’s position?”
I think about that a moment. With it being a hypothetical scenario, it’s not like I couldn’t admit to cheating. On the other hand I likely would attend Starfleet, and Pike is connected to it by proxy, and so would know how I’d hack that damn test.
So I settle on something that perhaps makes it seem more reasonable. “I would consider changing the parameters of the test, in order to make the process more fair and applicable to real life.”
Well, it sounded good in my head. But Pike has a look of disbelief, before laughing loudly.
“You Kirks! We’ve got to watch out for you, obviously.” Pike grins. “Because I believe that would still be cheating… which is exactly what Sam did.”
I gape at that. “How did he pull it off?”
Pike has a tinge of amusement in his voice, although I can tell he is holding some of it back. “Well, Sam decided that if the test only allowed for one end scenario, that therefore it classified itself as a cheat. So Sam decided to go outside of the test parameters to reveal the test for what it was.”
I hold my breath. “Did he hack the computer?”
“He not only hacked it, he changed the attacking vessels in the scenario to be charging unicorns-“ Pike starts giggling uncontrollably. “With laser beams shooting out of their eyes.”
Oh my god, my brother was a troll. “Did he beat the test, then?”
Pike wheezes a laugh. “Not even. Instead he had all his friends in the scenario, pretending to be fearless in the face of rampaging unicorns-complete with Uhura receiving transmissions from the unicorn ships-“ Pike takes a minute to regain his breath. “Neighing their demands.”
I join in on his uproarious laughter, ignoring the question marks in my head from Spock. It was hilarious for many reasons, but above all of them was a sense of pride that my brother had been a fucking genius. Where I would’ve just hacked the test to fit my own needs, Sam had somehow done the same and garnered respect, from Pike of all people.
He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb. “In the end, while Spock was appalled with Sam for hacking the parameters of his test-“
“Spock?”
“Oh, Spock designed that test, thinking it was entirely logical. But once he tried to draw up your brother to the school board for cheating, they only laughed at him-then commended your brother in front of the entire class.”
I could only shake my head in awe. Cheating and getting accolades for it? Talk about brilliant.
But I had to ask: “So what happened to Sam?”
Pike waves a hand. “He had to write a formal apology to Spock, and then retake the test under regulated parameters. But the point was made, and now very few cadets feel bad about failing that test.”
That only gives me warm fuzzies, stupidly enough. That Sam thought beyond cheating, and instead wanted to make others feel better about themselves.
Who the fuck was Sam? Mister fucking Rogers?
“So you’re saying this test is a sore spot for Spock?”
Pike shakes his head. “On the contrary, by the time Sam retook the test they had formed a tentative friendship.”
Something blooms in my chest at the image. That Spock had actually been friends with my brother, instead of just being a crewmember or rival. That Sam had somehow hacked his test, and yet Spock didn’t get mad about it.
Like Spock constantly gets mad at me.
“That’s incredible,” I say, not showing the let-down that is going on in my head. That maybe Spock-
“Your brother was really something, Jim,” Pike says quietly, his smile growing smaller as he seems lost in thought, likely remembering somebody that I’ll never know.
That everybody knows better than me, perhaps likes more than me.
“Anyway,” Pike stands straight from the counter, snapping out of his reverie. “We can start formally educating you on the Enterprise, but once you come back to our Earth you’ll need a tutor.”
“Is there a tutor on the Enterprise?”
Pike stares at me, and suddenly I feel like I hit a proverbial nail on the head.
“There are no tutors on starships, Jim.” He watches me carefully. “You’d have to stay on Earth.”
That hadn’t been what I meant at first. But now the reason for Pike’s concern is incredibly clear.
“You’re wondering if Spock is going to stay with me,” I say carefully, watching Pike as he watches me. “You don’t want to lose your science officer.”
Pike takes a deep breath, likely stalling to answer that question-but fuck it.
“I don’t intend to hold Spock back.” And saying the words is unclogging something from my chest, and I’m choking on emotion. “I never wanted to prevent him from doing what he wants to do.”
“Jim-“
“He can be your science officer and then come back for me,” I rush out, unable to catch my breath. “Maybe I can work hard and graduate by then.”
The thought terrifies me. I don’t want to be alone on Earth-this Earth that I don’t know. And despite Spock’s assurances the night before, I still had this immense fear that the pull of space would eventually be too much for him to ignore.
“Captains assign their crew, and you would have to have top marks-“
“I will,” I grit out from clenched teeth. “I’ll do what I have to.”
“Because Jim, very few spouses travel together in space. More often than not they take space station jobs and lower positions to make it work-“
“What do you want me to do?” I blurt out, the frustration bleeding into my tone. “What is it that you’re getting at? That Spock is going to leave me alone, or that you won’t take him on because of me, or-“
“I’m just preparing you for the realities of being married to someone in Starfleet!” Pike says tersely back, leaning towards me with intensity throughout his frame. “You don’t think your Mom dealt with the same thing?”
I let that sting, an intake of breath stuttering and burning my chest. I am so angry, and Spock is constantly knocking on the mental door, and fuck-
“It’s like Eurelia and me, Jim,” Pike says carefully, as if he just realizes he is yelling at me. “We were separated for years when we first got married.”
“And now you’re on the same ship,” I say weakly, because I don’t really have enough facts, but I don’t want to give up.
He takes a deep breath with that, staring me straight in the eye. “Starfleet was never meant for families, Jim. You could say that Eurelia and I got lucky. Most situations like ours end in divorce.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t really get a divorce.” I sniff, because the whole damn conversation is just too painful. “And what sort of advice-giver are you, anyway? It’s like you’re preparing us for being miserable.”
Pike enters my personal space, making sure I see him as he enunciates, “Exactly.”
I fold my arms across my chest, staring straight back at him-Fuck Captain Pike. Fuck him and his ideas. He could be right, but damn him for making me feel fucking guilty about it. Especially since there’s no way I can even possibly change it. What did he expect?
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Jim-“
“Shut up.”
Okay, not my brightest line, but it could’ve come out way worse. Especially since Pike’s eyes soften, start to look apologetic-fuck no. Fucking no apologies for that bullshit.
He puts a hand on my shoulder, and with that I’ve had enough.
“You know it’s fucking impossible odds that Spock and I even met each other, right?” I spit out, trying to control my temper. “In this universe of impossibilities, I refuse to think that we’re just some grand mistake. Not when Spock and I have this connection, and it’s supposed to be a connection he can’t have with anyone else.”
I stand up straight, and Pike leans away instinctively.
“I understand it’s going to fucking suck, but we have no choice-we’ve got to make it work.” I love him, and I’m going to make it work.
At that, of course Spock enters-not looking pleased at perhaps the most unromantic line in history.
He stands at the doorway of the kitchen, posture like a ruler as he looks to his captain for an explanation.
It’s nothing, Spock.
“Commander Robbins has arranged for your transport,” Spock says crisply, each word bitten out for strained politeness. “You may join her in the living room when you are ready.”
There is a slight satisfaction at the tone, although it is only pissing off Spock more that he can’t seem to control himself with his Captain.
But Pike only gives Spock a nod before turning back to me. He says quietly, “I apologize if I’ve offended you. That wasn’t my intention.”
Fuck off.
“None taken, Captain,” I say with faux cheerfulness, and Pike gets the point. He passes me after one last look, and I watch as Pike has to pass Spock in the doorway.
“See you at 2200, Commander.”
“Captain,” Spock acknowledges, but Pike moves past him quickly and towards the living room.
It’s only when we hear the transporter beams that Spock moves into the kitchen, hands clasped behind his back.
“I conclude that we were set up.”
I lean back against the counter, rubbing my forehead. “You think?”
“I deduce that the Captain gave you a similar speech as Commander Robbins gave to me.”
I peek out from behind my hand. “She cornered you, too?”
Spock found a spot next to me, but didn’t lean as his eyes wandered the kitchen. “Indeed.”
A silence descends, and I can feel the buzzing of similar thoughts and impressions mingling in our heads. I can’t read Spock at the moment-I’m still fucking upset-but I can tell he didn’t like the conversation he had, either.
“So?” I say, when all I fucking want at the moment is for Spock to put his arms around me. All fucking cheesy like, but damn, a hug would be nice right now.
Spock reaches up an arm, a hand settling on my shoulder. I can tell Spock is out of his comfort zone, and so I help him out-moving into his space, my face burrowing in the crook of neck and shoulder.
I am so overwhelmed with problems and issues and questions. The thought of holding Spock back like I’m some helpless child is so insulting, and at the same time painful to consider. It would be the last thing I’d want, and yet I also don’t want to be alone.
Maybe that does make me a child.
“You are entering a new century,” Spock says quietly, one arm still holding my bicep and not yet reaching towards my back. “In some ways your understanding will be like a child’s.”
I want to melt into the floor, and at the same time set it on fire with the fuel of my frustration.
“You have no choice, as you have stated, and you have no means to better or change your circumstance.”
How fucking romantic. Spock, you are the worst pep-talk giver ever.
“However, I do not see how you would be unable to overcome those obstacles.”
Well… that sounds a bit better.
I raise my head, my face so close to Spock’s with the motion, and I am grateful that Spock doesn’t lean away. Instead he finds my gaze, holding it with his amber eyes.
I am watching the green in them, just as the green is watching me.
“I don’t want to hold you back,” I say quietly. And a part of my chest clenches, not wanting to hear the answer to that statement-the only logical answer that I can determine, that Spock must know, too.
At that Spock lowers his eyes, and my heart drops. Until I realize he is staring at my mouth as his other hand whispers a touch under my chin, keeping me from looking away.
“It is not ‘holding back’,” he says simply, a fingertip tracing the edge of my jaw, entirely too distracting. “Holding back would entail that you would never become educated, or have the abilities to exceed in Starfleet.”
I swallow, entirely too aware of Spock’s fingertips finding the nape of my neck. “But I can’t do that right now.”
Spock hums the affirmative. “Impatience would agree with your position.”
There is something about the way he says it-the assertion that I would get his humor, the fact that he can employ a play on words as well as anyone else. That Spock said it specifically for me, in an attempt to shift my focus towards something more optimistic.
And it works. I feel my heart become lighter as his fingertips uncharacteristically caress the back of my neck, the action soothing and comforting and everything that I exactly needed.
“Okay,” I say softly, my eyes now watching his mouth. “Then tell me how we’re doing this.”
I suck in my bottom lip, remembering the pressure of his lips on mine the night before-the way I wish they would kiss me now, sealing the past hour and throwing it away behind us.
Instead his fingers stop their ministrations, and his hand slides to my shoulder. “I have thought over the matter. But perhaps we should move to another location?”
The kitchen is cozy in a sense, but I know Spock wants the ability to sit down in his room. Next to the wall that has one large window, looking out over the trees that no doubt will be soothing as we discuss things.
I nod. “Lead the way.”
At that Spock does lean down for a kiss-surprising me somehow, yet the surprise makes it sweeter. His lips are soft, undemanding, and I find they are exactly what I need-what I’ve wanted this entire time.
It blitzes my senses, and Spock pulls away too quickly for me. I open my eyes to see him leaning away, his hands sliding down my arms until a circle of fingers grips my wrist.
He mentally nudges me to follow him, and we walk quietly through the empty River House. There is low lighting throughout the entire place, running lights bordering the hallways and guiding our way. I look out the windows as Spock leads me towards the stairs, my eyes trying to discern the river, only to see incredible darkness.
The stairs are carpeted and silence our footfalls, and it is almost like a walking meditation. Spock doesn’t let my wrist go, despite its impracticality on the stairs. Once we reach the landing, turning to find his room, he still doesn’t loosen his grip.
I could lead you to his room exactly, having been there several times over the last month. Can picture the arrangement in my mind’s eye, know there is a chaise and table and bookcase, and that long, long window.
Spock opens the door with his other hand, but instead of leading me through it, motions for me to go first.
The first time this happened I was trapped in a conversation I didn’t want to hear, and couldn’t necessarily believe. Spock revealed that he, Pike, Bones, and everyone else were from the future, and they had followed my father’s killer all the way to current-day Earth.
My father’s killer-that had been another fact I hadn’t known, and hadn’t wanted to hear. I denied it over and over again, until Spock removed his white skullcap and showed me those pointed, Vulcan ears.
Ears now covered as I watch Spock close the door to his room, trapping us once again.
“You are always free to leave.”
Easier said than done, when I’d have to walk all the way home from the middle of nowhere.
“I would not strand you.”
And just like last time, Spock is reading my thoughts to his advantage. An ability I didn’t quite understand before, and still don’t fully comprehend now.
I can feel his sense of honesty and earnestness. It puts me more at ease from that first time, when I was so entirely frustrated from not knowing any answers, and being scared to death by non-connecting evidence.
“Would you like to sit?”
I contemplate the chaise, where the pillows look comforting. But instead of sitting there, I grab both throw pillows and hand over one to Spock.
He’s confused until I go over to sit before the window, cross-legged on the floor with the pillow in my lap. It takes him a moment before he follows, his lean legs bending and tucking gracefully under him.
It’s closer and more intimate, which I need with a discussion like this.
“I see,” Spock murmurs, the pillow laying flat in his lap as he places folded hands upon it.
The running lights bordering the room provide a faint enough glow to see each other’s faces. It is like we lit candles, but perhaps a 23rd-century equivalent.
“I have candles in my quarters,” Spock states, and I can only smile at him.
“It’s an ambiance thing.”
He raises an eyebrow, seeing how I connected the dots in my head. That is one benefit of this, actually. Spock rarely misunderstands my intent unless one of our heads is too clouded by emotion.
“There are many benefits to our bond,” Spock says, watching my hands fiddle with the ribbon trim of the pillow. “I am not sure I have explained them adequately.”
It’s only been a month, mostly a month of adjusting. I guess I can’t fault him.
“We have many years to explore and adjust-” Spock bites off that sentence, and it is strangely and endearingly human, seeing him consider his words. “During this past month, perhaps I have not been as accommodating.”
“Running to the science labs?”
“It is where I can… enter an alternative meditative state.”
“Lost in your work?”
“Precisely.” Spock watches my expression, and I know there’s a certain expectation for what comes next.
I sigh. “Okay, maybe I suck at trying to fit in.”
I sense that hit a wrong note, and I try again. “I suck at trying to adapt to your world.”
“It is not a matter of… doing so inadequately.” Spock avoids the word with some distaste. “It is perhaps more a sense of not even attempting at all.”
Ouch. But maybe I deserved that one.
“Okay,” I say, letting it hang in the air. Because suddenly the whole damn thing is starting to sound too adult, and I know I’ll soon get pretty damn snarky and defensive in retaliation.
“I am aware that the situation is awkward for you.”
Okay, maybe that defensiveness is encroaching now.
Spock gives me a pointed look. “I have also experienced being in a strange world, without buffers or guidance.”
I try to imagine what this experience would be. Vulcans are members of the Federation, I know that.
Spock looks out towards the trees. “I am the only Vulcan in Starfleet.”
Oh.
“I went from a culture that embraces the calm of Surakian principles to planet Earth, where it was a conglomeration of many who disapprove of such things.”
I envision Spock at school, and how he sticks out like a sore thumb at times. If that’s just a building full of Humans, I can’t imagine how it’s like with several other races.
“Starfleet Academy houses over a hundred distinct species.”
My head spins attempting to fathom it. “That sounds hard.”
Spock nods. “I traveled to Earth alone in order to attend the Academy. It was not as I envisioned it, and my first year was… exasperating.”
I can feel the echoes of tiredness as Spock states it, the weariness and expectation of facing an uphill battle every day.
“You must have really wanted to go there.”
“Indeed. I had been accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, but it was Starfleet which seemed best for my pursuits.”
I sense an inkling of bitterness, and when I mentally nudge Spock to explain it, I get the keen sense that the Vulcans had been insulting and ostracizing.
“Man, that sucks.”
“It was against the wishes of my father that I attended Starfleet. And thus, as Humans would say in my time-and perhaps yours-I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
My mind is still reeling at a rebellious Spock as I smile in fondness. “We still have that expression, too.”
Spock looks back at me, catching my eyes as the mood suddenly changes-the meaning behind Spock’s tone suddenly changes.
“When I speak of your experiences and predicament, please know that I do not speak of them lightly or without gravitas.”
That statement, for some reason, hits me square in the chest. It occurs to me how little I truly know about Spock. That Spock could have these experiences hidden from me, and I would have no idea.
“As you have mentioned several times previously, we have only known each other a short span of time.”
But the reality of it only makes me want to know more. It is not daunting, but only fills me with wonder at this person I have somehow bonded with.
Spock shifts his gaze. “I have often thought the same.”
It is said sincerely, yet my doubt peeks through. “You know so much about me already, from what happened with my dad.”
Spock shakes his head. “There is information that strangely does not appear in history books.”
And for whatever fucking reason, I find that the most romantic line I’ve ever heard. Spock wants to know about me-the real me. Not this person that he could pull up on his database, or the person I am rumored to have been in San Fran or even in Riverside.
Fuck, that’s amazing.
“It is an area we will have to patiently explore in the future,” Spock states solemnly, and it fills my chest with butterflies.
The future.
“We have not yet discussed what will happen once we have arrived in my time.”
I swallow, a burst of what Pike said stumbling through my head, trying to bring down the moment.
“Captain Pike is a remarkable individual,” Spock says quietly. “But his role as Captain requires him to recruit whom he deems to be best suited for his vessel.”
“That’s you,” I answer, knowing full well that Spock is awesome at his job. Nobody had to tell me that, it is just pure observation in how the Enterprise absorbs his life.
“Starfleet has been my… home for the last decade.” I know the word home surprises him, and he has to take a moment for the admission. “My intent was to spend my life serving an organization that I feel promotes peace and scientific advancement for the common good.”
“You still can,” I say quietly, trying to quash inner protests of my own interests. “Pike says it’s hard to get picked for his ship.”
“I was extremely fortunate.”
Spock lets that hang in the air, and it doesn’t really help my guilt.
He turns his head sharply at that. “You assume that I will be degrading myself due to our relationship.”
A sinking feeling drops in my stomach-yeah, maybe I had assumed.
“I inferred last night that I would not abandon you, and yet you persist in that belief.”
“It’s because-“ I gesture wordlessly with a hand, knowing that actual words will likely come out wrong. “You want to be in space, and yet I can’t be in space.”
“This is true.”
I feel the great need to jump up and pace, but I grip my pillow instead. “So how is that I’m not degrading you, or holding you back?”
Spock purses his lips at the statement, and I can feel the cogs turning in his head. There’s a part of me that feels that if he has to take this long to come up with something, then perhaps he shouldn’t bother at all.
“I am considering my words carefully, so that there is no room for doubt. Although I suspect the Human mind will likely infer and read into whatever I state, regardless.”
It takes me a moment, but I squint eyes at him. “You’re choosing the wrong moment to mock me, Spock.”
There is a soft huff as he looks out the window. “Family is important to me.”
The statement seems so out of left field. “Because of your mother?”
“My mother was my closest family member for many years.” I notice his hands start to mimic mine, tugging at the corded edge of his pillow. “Now that she has passed, I have realized that I have isolated myself.”
I lean in, entirely too intrigued with this line of thought. “Your father is still alive, right?”
Spock nods, but it is accompanied by an uneasy feeling. “We are not… on familiar terms.”
“You’re not close.”
“It will be a situation we must remedy,” Spock admits, although I sense he dislikes the idea. “As we are one of the few remaining members of our clan, it is essential we become more acquainted.” There is a slight quirk of his lip. “As he is an ambassador, perhaps he can guide our negotiations.”
I huff a laugh. Sharing a bond with him has revealed more of his sense of humor, and it is one of the things I absolutely adore about him.
“Do you know how many of your clan survived?”
“We were caught in hostilities with Nero too soon after my planet imploded. But I have heard various estimates of survivors, including those that we beamed aboard the Enterprise.”
There is a great sense of loss, and I am almost afraid to ask for a number.
“I have heard of estimates as high as 10,000 refugees… out of my planet of six billion.”
I gulp in air at the figures. Fuck, 10,000 might be the population of my neighborhood in San Fran.
“It is not clear which clans are among them.”
“I’m so sorry, Spock,” I whisper, because I feel the pain keenly-Spock’s pain. The pain that I knew he was hiding, leaking out against his will.
At this he turns to me. “You are my family now, Jim. While there are some bonds I must foster, I am also inclined to strengthen bonds that I have chosen. In fact, I prefer it.”
It takes me a moment to register all of that. But when I do, I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort.
Family is what you choose it be, really. It’s how Mom and I absorbed Frank into our lives-how Ruth Salinas had been like a sister for the longest time. Now it’s Gaila, and Bones, Scotty and Nyota-and now Spock. People who would be hard to replace; whom I couldn’t dream of replacing.
“If we are in agreement on that term, then you must realize I would not choose, nor desire, to abandon you once we reach 23rd century Earth.”
I see his reasoning, but I am still stuck on other facts. “You may not want to, but what if you have to? Like, Starfleet orders it?”
“I would resign from Starfleet.”
I flail at that. “No way. No fucking way, Spock.”
“I do not see an option-“
“First off, I appreciate what you’re saying.” And it’s true. The fact that Spock would resign from Starfleet for me? Goddamn if that isn’t reassuring. “But I always heard that marriage goes both ways.”
“We are not technically married.”
“Relationships, then. That isn’t just one person doing all the giving, and the other person all the taking.”
That sounds good to my ears, but Spock still seems doubtful.
“Second, what sort of person would I be to allow you to give up something you’ve worked so hard for, all because of me?”
“It would be my decision.”
“Yeah, but if I’m involved, why can’t I decide too?”
Spock opens his mouth several times, and from the babble in our heads I know that he thinks I’ll take offense. And hell, maybe I would.
“My point is-we’re going to do this together. Not just you making decisions, or just what’s best for me.” I lean so close that our knees almost touch. “I don’t need a parent in the 23rd century, I need a friend and companion. I need you to trust and rely on me, just like I do with you.”
There’s a soft hum in our bond, and I know that Spock is earnestly considering that.
“Resignation is my last resort,” he confesses, and I’m relieved. “I do not believe that our previous plans will fall through in order to necessitate such.”
“Yeah, okay-“and this seems like the opportune time to bring it up, “so I’m finishing school and trying to get into Starfleet.”
“I have no doubts you can accomplish such.”
Damn, Spock is really winning tonight. More compliments like that and he’ll home run.
“But what are you going to do, Spock?” I watch his expression, and when he’s silent I elaborate. “I mean, when I’m in school and everything. That takes years.”
Spock looks down at the pillow again, and he doesn’t stop his hands from fiddling.
“I am currently an instructor at the Academy.”
At that I knit my brows together. “Captain Pike made it sound like you’ve been in space.”
“I have,” he says. “However there is time between assignments while a ship is outfitted for a mission.”
There is something not being said here. “Were you waiting for an assignment?”
Spock doesn’t look up at me. “Three months before recent events, I had been invited to a post and accepted.”
I don’t understand the reticence of this until I click pieces together. “Pike asked you, didn’t he? It wasn’t just for Nero-you went with him because you were already assigned.”
Spock meets my eyes. “Yes.”
At that I shake my head, determined. “Then there’s no way you can go back to teaching.”
“I enjoy it.”
“Yeah, but you finally got an assignment you’ve been waiting for.”
“There will be many more assignments.” And as I’m about to protest further, Spock interrupts. “Despite what my captain has insinuated, he is speaking in terms of a pre-Nero mind set.”
I’m not sure what this means, but Spock elaborates.
“The incident with Nero destroyed a fleet of starships, and a large portion of the graduating class. That is approximately three thousand who are no longer in Starfleet, and thus three thousand who can no longer be assigned-especially to 15 starships destroyed in the conflict.”
It dawns on me. “Starfleet will have to rebuild, and that tilts the power of demand.”
“Even if we increased our recruitment, I highly doubt I would face an issue of reassignment in five years.”
It sounds good and reassuring, I’ll give Spock that. But there is something else… something I can’t guess. It is a sensation of a word on the tip of my tongue, yet I don’t have Spock’s brain to will it forth.
And Spock isn’t helping me. “In the meantime while you are pursuing your studies, I will teach. When you graduate we can evaluate our options at that time.”
I tap my fingers together, trying to think all that through. It is certainly what I wanted Spock to say. It sounds wonderful. The next five years sound like plenty of time to adjust to where I’m living, and to adjust to our relationship.
But I side-eye Spock. I let him know that I feel he’s hiding something, and that I’ll eventually squirrel it out.
“If you are in agreement, then I can move forward with plans once we reach my time.”
His mind offers as a distraction an image of his place: A small apartment on campus, tidy and empty and cold.
I let him distract me-for now.
“Are we allowed to live together when you’re teaching?”
“I am uncertain. But considering our bond, it might warrant special circumstances.”
I think about living with Spock a moment. How all that time alone together could be really nice, or we could drive each other up the wall.
Like earlier.
Spock finally reaches over, fingertips tracing a vein at the top of my hand. “It is my sincere belief that we will fight, but it will not be without reason or necessary growth.”
Spock has a point. Look at us now-I could’ve wrung his neck earlier, but it all came down to this simple silence that we shared now, with him tracing my hand and caressing my wrist, and the breath leaving my chest.
I love him.
“And I, you,” Spock says quietly, looking up from his fingertips to meet my gaze.
The moment is almost too beautiful for a kiss, but I lean forward for one anyway, happy when I meet him halfway. I close my eyes, reveling in the soft pressure that eventually opens up, with Spock licking my mouth for a deeper and longer kiss.
It smolders every vein in my body, like the heat I feel beneath my palms as I slide them down Spock chest, wanting to press myself against him and meld our bodies together. I get up on my knees, itching to get closer, but Spock’s hands on my waist push me back down.
“We have other matters to discuss,” he says, his voice satisfyingly husky to my deprived senses.
“I’m all ears,” I say, leaning forward again as Spock puts up a hand.
“Jim.”
I huff, but settle back down on my haunches. “Okay, what else?”
He hesitates, and I know it has to deal with our recent arguments.
I blow a raspberry. “Boundaries.”
“When you are on the Enterprise, I wish for you to respect my commanding officers and my role as one of them.”
I want to protest that I’ve done such-but yeah, yelling back at Pike in the kitchen might just prove Spock’s point.
Which is bullshit, as I’m not a member of the crew. But Spock gives me a look, and I know he won’t let this go.
“I’ll try, Spock. Although you have to realize that I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”
Spock considers that. “That is reasonable. I will point out your digressions in the future so you may take note of them.”
I hate the your that rolls so easily off his tongue, but I know that Spock is not being purposefully accusatory.
“All right, as long as I can do the same for you.”
Spock raises an eyebrow at that, and I know in his mind he finds the notion ludicrous. But I remind him of the spirit of compromise, and so Spock minutely nods.
“If such an incident arises.”
“Like this morning?” I say, suddenly reminded of one of the reasons Spock had been so irked with me.
Spock is tight-lipped, but he mutters, “Yes, when we stopped for your beverage.”
“What was up with that?” I lean back, my arms behind me at an angle. “I’ve just seen her a few times and thought she looked interesting.”
“I sensed a different sort of interest.”
“Spock-I don’t know how it works in your century, but when I say I’m gay, I totally mean it.”
Spock looks towards the trees, and it suddenly dawns on me.
“… Are you not gay?”
“I have only had one long-term relationship, which was with my betrothed.”
A woman, from what I had garnered a month ago.
“So does that mean you like women, too?”
Spock grips his pillow in agitation. “It does not matter, as you and I are bonded.”
I shake my head as I sit up, trying to catch his eye. “Uh, Spock, hate to break it to you, but just because we’re bonded doesn’t mean we still don’t have hormones.”
I feel the unexpected singe from that remark hit my head, Spock leaning back instinctively as I register that it stung him.
“Hey, hey-“ I put out a hand. “Look, I was just saying that I’m still going to find people attractive and flirt with them. But that doesn’t mean I want to be with them, or that I love you less, or don’t want to just be with you-“
Spock bristles. “I see.”
Then why are you still acting like a hedgehog?
“I am glad we had this conversation.” Spock tosses his pillow to the side, but I move in and pounce on him.
“Na-uh, not when you’re angry.” He looks appalled, but I tap my noggin. “This goes both ways, and you’re still pissed with me.”
“I am not angry.” His face doesn’t convince me, and he looks shiftily to the side.
I touch his chin, making our eyes meet. “I love you, Spock. You’re my one and only. And I was just pointing out where you went waaaay off-base.”
Spock looks at a strand of hair that’s fallen on my forehead, and I huff air in the space between us, making him squirm.
“How are we supposed to be honest with each other-and you point out my digressions-if we’re just going to take offense and not think about them?”
With that, I feel the metaphorical light bulb go off in Spock’s head. But of course from his face he’ll never admit it.
“I will consider what you have said.”
I grin, pushing Spock’s chest back so he is leaning on his forearms. “There you go.”
“Cheeky.”
“Oh, thank you Mister Spock, for being agreeable.”
I’ve climbed into his lap, and Spock looks arrested as he stares at me-and I like that look. The way he is devouring my expression with his eyes, the way his hand instinctively comes up to touch my waist.
“Jim.”
“Hmm?” I tilt my head to mouth at his pulse, but just as my breath skates skin he pushes me off.
“I am scheduled for the Enterprise in an hour.”
I am lying on my side on the floor, watching as Spock has stood up, brushing off his jeans and turtleneck, looking way too composed for what I wanted to do.
Damn. It’s not like I’d keep him forever.
“I will drive you home.” And with that Spock gives me a pointed look-that this discussion, at least, is over.
I get up regretfully, sighing dramatically as I walk towards him. “Can I file another digression?”
“I believe we should impose a limit,” Spock mutters, then leads me down the stairs.
Maybe he’s right, as I can guess we’d both have a list about a mile-long.
Chapter Three | Masterlist