Fic: Because the Simple Fact is, Love is Never Discreet, Kirk/Spock
Title: Because the Simple Fact is, Love is Never Discreet
Author:
Le_Culdesac
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and hints of naughtiness.
Summary: Domestic bliss in outer space and San Francisco.
The whole point of shore leave was to give you enough time to miss your crew again, So, really, going back to San Francisco to live with your science officer for two weeks sort of defeated the purpose of it all, and Spock had pointed out as much, but who ever said he wanted a time out from Spock, anyways?
Notes: Prompt from st_xi_kink . I started and just couldn’t stop. It was just too much fun to juxtapose the Enterprise and Spock’s apartment. What was supposed to be a really quick paragraph ended up becoming a rather long fic, haha. It’s a bit fragmented, but I’m still really happy with how it turned out. I jump between tenses because I’m a moron like that, and was 5:49am. But, if you wanna be really nice, maybe you can tell yourself that it was a deliberate choice on my part because as smart as Kirk is, his internal monologue just sucks at grammar. Hearts. Also, totally gave up on the fucking LJ-cut thing. I've spent an hour trying to get the HTML to work. I concede defeat.
Because the Simple Fact is, Love is Never Discreet
Jim couldn’t control the shit-eating grin on his face. He probably looked like a whack job, but so the fuck what? He was on shore leave and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy every minute of it. There was something incredibly simple and fun about grocery shopping. Being surrounded by people whose biggest problems came down to choosing between the Rice Crispies and Lucky Charms was good for him. It was good to be reminded that, whatever else he had to deal with at the other end of the universe, “normal” still existed.
It was a nice contrast to the other fifty weeks of the year that were spent on the edge of exhaustion and, sometimes, nauseating fear. The enlisting campaigns make it look oh-so-glamorous and hi-tech because, hell, that’s what they’re there for, so they obviously have to gloss over the parts where you start to sleep with your back to the wall and a phaser under your pillow. Not all their missions were successful, and not all of it was about saving lives and diplomacy.
There was also the cabin fever. Being stuck on the same ship with the same people day-in and day-out for eleven and a half months could drive anyone crazy. By about the fortieth week, your patience runs dry and you’re not afraid to call a spade a spade. Even Scotty gets shirty at the eight month mark. Shore leave comes around so you take a break from the people and the stress. You say, “Adios, motherfuckers” and go home to hug your mother and convince her you haven’t lost weight. You sit around in bed for two weeks listening to news reports about other people’s ships, slag them off in your head, die of boredom and practically come running back because everyone in Starfleet’s an adrenaline junkie and oh-GOD-why-did-I-ever-leave?!
Rinse, gargle and repeat.
The whole point of shore leave was to give you enough time to miss your crew again, So, really, going back to San Francisco to live with your science officer for two weeks sort of defeated the purpose of it all, and Spock had pointed out as much, but who the hell ever said he needed time out to miss Spock anyway?
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Chekov had started a countdown calendar in the mess hall at about the one month mark and it ended up being the main topic at breakfast times. Sulu had signed up for a rock climbing class whilst Chekov announced he was going to do research in a laboratory. Bones had plans to go fishing and Scotty had promised he’d tumble into the first pub he encountered. Uhura had mentioned some vague plans about maybe visiting some relatives. Kirk couldn’t quite meet her eyes when she said that. He knew she’d been planning to go back to San Francisco with Spock until just last month... Well.
She said she’d forgiven him and she understood, that these things happen, but what else was she supposed to say to her boss? He offered to let her beat the crap out of him but she seemed beyond that point. She had said no, captain, it’s fine, when of course it wasn’t. He felt more than just a little bad about it. As far as he knew, she hadn’t told anyone the real reason she and Spock had broken up, even though it was well within her right. “We weren’t right for each other,” was all she’d say, without so much as throwing an evil eye in his direction. Whatever demons she was wrestling with, she didn’t bring them onto the bridge. He was thankful for that, but it also made him wonder. Could he have done the same thing for Spock? Been so gracious about stepping aside for “the other guy”? He doubted it. He wouldn’t so much as step aside for him as castrate him. And that made Uhura the better person... Which was far from comforting.
“And yourself, Captain?”
That voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he could see that Spock was deliberately avoiding his eyes. It was a little too studied to be casual or nonchalant, but nobody else could read it. He suppressed a smile. He was better at the discretion thing than most people thought. Certainly more than Spock had expected, anyways.
“Sorry, Commander?”
It was a bit of an on-going joke between them. (Contrary to popular belief, Vulcans did kind of joke. Or at least, Spock kind of joked with him. And they did laugh.) After Spock and Uhura were officially over, Jim had tried to needle Spock into calling him by his name outside the bedroom. They didn’t have to hide anymore, he said. He didn’t like hiding, anyway. They shouldn’t have to sneak in and out of each other’s rooms at all hours of the night, whispering in the hallways and sending desperate texts whenever they were available for a quickie. This wasn’t just about the sex anymore. They weren’t doing anything wrong. This was right. No, it was better than right-it was perfect. They’d made perfect come true. He wanted people to know that they were together and perfect together, damnit. Once he had finished his one man rant, Spock raised an eyebrow. “Jim, would you like me to document the many and various ways in which my father and Starfleet can and will make your time on the Enterprise a veritable torture, should they learn of this?” After that, they reached a compromise. Between 0900 to 2000 hours, they’d call each other “Captain Kirk” or “Commander Spock”. Never without a tinge of amusement though. “Commander” just sounded so stupid when you’d seen the guy on his knees in front of you, sucking you off like his life depended on it.
Ok, it wasn’t that hilarious, but it was funny to them.
“I was merely enquiring as to your plans for your shore leave on Earth,” Spock continued, meeting his gaze. His eyes seemed more probing than usual.
“I don’t quite know yet, Commander,” Kirk smiled warmly.
“You have no plans?” Spock pressed. “Surely you must-”
“Hey, Spock, what’s up?” interrupts Bones. “You finding out when Jimmy here’s free for a dinner and movie?!” he starts laughing and the table joins in. Even Kirk manages to laugh as Spock gives the doctor his famous ‘fuck you’ eyebrow.
Kirk catches McCoy’s eye. He’s laughing with the rest of them, but there’s something else there and Spock sees it too. Well. It’s easy to forget that everyone in the room has at least one PhD, and that they’re all probably busy figuring things out in their own, quiet way. Like why Captain Kirk and Commander Spock haven’t hit each other in a while, and why they seem to be disappearing together a lot. Or why Spock now ends each day by telling Kirk, “It is 2000 hours now, Captain,” and looks something close to, god forbid, happy.
For some reason, all lovers think they’re being discreet, that nobody else has worked it out yet.
But the simple fact is, love is never discreet.
***
It’s not as weird as he thought it would be when Bones later corners him in the turbolift and stalls it between the floors. (‘Turbolift’ is a misnomer. Really, they’re just verbal-confrontation pods that happen to travel between floors.) Bones has Kirk’s nicotine routine down to a science so it’s not hard to track him down. He’s a doctor. Half his job is to chase the captain down and bitch at him every time he has a cigarette.
“What the hell are you doing, Jim?” he crosses his arms. It’s pretty obvious this isn’t the usual lung cancer lecture so Kirk doesn’t play innocent.
“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.” And there isn’t. It’s that simple.
Bones sighs. “I don’t like the guy. No, let me finish. In fact," a pause. "I hate the bastard. That being said, he’s a damn good commander and he’s… a good man.” Bones grinds the last part out, as though it’s costing him a piece of his dignity to say it.
“You’re saying I’m not?”
“You’re a good captain, Jim, but you’re a bad partner,” he replies swiftly. “All you captain types make bad partners. You like flying ships because you hate anchors. That's why you're good at your job, but it's also why you don’t do relationships. For pete’s sake, Jim. Spock?! Are you out of your bleeding mind?” Bones is shouting now, and he really doesn’t give a second toss. “You’re the reason he and Uhura didn’t work out, aren’t you?” his eyebrows knit together.
“It just… kind of happened.” Kirk looks away, appropriately ashamed.
“Listen, these things don’t just kind of happen. Whatever you’re doing, you’d better nip it in the goddamn bud, right now. He doesn’t know about these things, damnit. Vulcans don’t understand that sleep ‘em and leave ‘em crap. If you break his cold-blooded heart and he pisses off to some backwater colony, we're going to end up without a science-”
Bones really doesn’t expect it when Kirk steps forward and gives him an awkward hug. When the doctor steps back, he sees an expression on Kirk’s face that he hasn’t seen before.
.
“You’re a good guy for caring, Bones. And you’re smart. But you’re also wrong.” Kirk grins in what he thinks is a fair approximation of charming, but there’s something more than just stubborn determination and confidence in those eyes. McCoy wonders what it is that he's seeing. "You have to be on my side," Kirk continues, "You've got to trust me on this one." And that's when Bones puts his finger on it.
It’s conviction; as though any other option is simply impossible. Pure, simple and utter faith. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
***
That night as they spoon in the single bed in Kirk’s room, he tells Spock about his exchange with McCoy. When he finishes talking, Spock is silent. “Spock? You awake?”
“Go to sleep, Jim.”
***
When they wake the next morning, their limbs are entangled. He would have thought Spock was the type to sleep perfectly still, on his back, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He was learning these things.
“You have yet to answer my question,” Spock says to the small space between their lips.
“Hmm?” Kirk’s not yet awake enough to form sentences.
“Regarding your leave. Have you made plans yet?”
“Oh, that,” he yawns loudly and blinks the sleep from his eyes. “I was wondering if I should just kip with you for a while?”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “You do realise that announcing that you and I shall be taking our leave together is tantamount to, as you humans say, ‘coming out of the closet’. I advise you to evaluate the consequences of this before you proceed.”
“That didn’t sound like a ‘no’ to me,” Jim grins, pulling Spock towards him. “And it's not like they're aren't already guesssing. C'mon, give us a kiss before you kick me out of bed, you heartless bastard.” At this, Spock looks puzzled.
“But Jim, I most definitely have a heart,” he takes Kirk’s hand and slides it across his abdomen. James can feel the gentle humming of the Vulcan’s heart beneath his palm. Something quiet settles inside his chest.
“I know,” he says, bringing their lips together.
***
All things considered, the crew took it very well. Some of them didn’t even look all that surprised. Scotty fell over himself laughing and Sulu looked like he wanted to join him, but he was too professional for that. Chekov had stared at Kirk and Spock as if they'd just clubbed a baby seal, but he always looks like that when someone mentions something to do with sex.
***
All Spock had told him was that he had an apartment near the academy for convenience’s sake. Not his precise words, obviously, but the gist was there. He hadn’t heard Spock refer to it as ‘my home’, only as 'my lodgings'. Kirk followed closely behind him in the corridor, shouldering his bag. When they stopped outside door fifty seven, Spock turned to face him. He seemed more tense than usual, if that were possible.
“Would you be at all offended if I asked that you remain here for a moment whilst I check that all is in order for your arrival?”
Kirk rolled his eyes and grabbed Spock’s wrist, unceremoniously flattening the hand into the bio-gel scanner. Laughing, he pushed them both through the now open doorway, interested to see what kind of apartment Spock kept. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he was definitely surprised.
A large kitchen area led into a balcony over looking the bay and, to the east, the academy. The light was soft and natural, spilling into the living area and across the warm ivory walls. A two seater sofa and low glass table stood in front of a media projector, whilst the opposite wall was lined with shelves of books. Beyond that, there appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom. A few art prints hung on the walls. (Who would’ve thought Spock liked Monet?) It was by no means sparse, but it was empty, whatever that meant. Kirk couldn’t help thinking that it didn’t feel very lived in compared to his room at his mother’s house back in Iowa. That would make sense though, considering Spock spent fifty weeks a year on the other side of the universe.
It took Kirk a few moments to drink in. It was so… human. Not that he would ever tell that to Spock. He nearly chuckled at the mental image of himself being forced to sleep on the sofa. He turned to face Spock, who had his hands clasped behind his back and cleared his throat..
“There is a hotel accessible from here, if it is not to your taste.”
Kirk dropped his bag-it met the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. In one swift movement, he had unzipped Spock’s black uniform jacket and was biting into the pale neck. “Stop trying to impress me and show me your room,” he laughed. “I wanna fuck you on a double bed for a change.”
Spock was a gracious host. Who was he to deny his guest?
***
Though it had only been three days since they arrived, there was something very different about the apartment. Perhaps it was the sounds of their mutual living or the warmth of two bodies under the same roof, but the apartment suddenly seemed much smaller than Spock remembered.
It was completely illogical as apartments do not shrink, but every time he went to the bathroom and noticed Jim’s toothbrush on the sink, picked a stray sock off the floor or cleaned two dirty dishes rather than one, he would marvel at how what had once seemed like more space than he would ever need had suddenly become very small indeed.
When Kirk fell asleep in front of the media projector on the fourth night and Spock carried him to bed, Kirk mumbled into his shoulder,
“I love you.”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
“Well, well, well… If it isn’t Captain James Tiberius Kirk.”
Kirk knows that voice. It’s the sort of annoying voice you hate because it has all the nuances of 'bite me' woven into it, but it’s definitely familiar. He’s trying to figure out where he’s heard it before. He turns around to see a tall, rather good looking brunette striding over. He’s wearing the black academy uniform, so Kirk starts thrashing his Starfleet personnel memory for a name to match the face.
“Hi,” Kirk smiles, hoping he could bluff his way through it. “How’ve you been?”
The guy rolls his eyes, clearly not buying it. “It’s Harris Kingly. We’ve had sex.” That wipes the smile off Kirk’s face. “Don’t sweat it. You were drunk.”
“Oh.” Now there’s an awkward silence. There’s got to be some kind of law against confronting your one night stands after your one night stand, right? Or at least some kind of fucking etiquette guide for this kind of thing?
Harris stares pointedly at the contents of Kirk’s trolley and scoffs. “Just what kind of a party are you shopping for? Tupperware gathering?” He picks up a box of tissues and lets it drop.
“No party. I’m just buying some groceries with my uhh, boyfriend,” Kirk decides he likes saying it when he sees Harris’ eyes bulge but resolves to not use it in front of Spock. The last time he had come around from a nerve pinch, it had felt like a hangover. If hangovers were made in hell, that is.
“Are you serious?! James-I’m-Joining-Starfleet-To-Bang- As-Many-Beings-As-I-Can Kirk has a boyfriend? James-I-Can-Do-Twelve-Body-Shots-In-Five-Minutes Kirk?! James-I’m-A-Commitment-Phobe-With-A-Ten-Foot-Radius-Of-Personal-Space Kirk?!” he starts guffawing and Kirk resists the urge to clobber the guy with the cereal box he's holding. Why was it that unbelievable? Everybody settles down eventually.
“Yeah, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” he frowns. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”
“So who’s the guy? Anyone I know? You still go for the same type, don’t you?”
Kirk sighs. Just then, he sees Spock approaching them with a bag of bread in his hands. Harris, facing Kirk and busy leering, doesn’t notice. Spock stops to pick a box of Honey Puffs from a high shelf and pass them to a young girl who’s too short to reach them. She smiles delightedly at him before running off, clutching her treasure.
“Oh, depends what you mean by my type…” Kirk begins grinning as Spock raises his eyebrow, clearly listening. “I guess if you mean half-Vulcan, than sure.”
“Half Vulcan? What--” Harris starts, but shuts up and does a double take as Spock slowly walks past him and pauses.
“It is Harris Kingly, is it not? Xenobiology instructor?” The eyebrow has never been more fitting.
“Commander Spock! Yes, it is, sir,” he replies, eyes flicking wildly from Kirk to Spock. He misses the look they shoot each other. (If Spock were a human cartoon character, the thought bubble above his head would read "Seriously?" and Kirk's would say "How many half Vulcans does he think I know?") “I was unaware you were on leave, commander. What brings you to-”
The look on his face is priceless when Spock carefully places the bread in Kirk’s trolley.
“If your intended question was with regards to what may bring me to a supermarket, Kingly, then I must conclude that your powers of observation leave much to be desired.”
Baiting idiots was a mutual hobby of theirs, it seemed.
***
That night, Kirk learns that Spock is a jealous lover. His words are more guarded and there’s a certain coolness that radiates from him which Kirk hasn’t felt since the Kobayashi Maru incident. When Spock looks pointedly at the pile of Kirk's books on the sofa, Kirk clears it away without a word. He even wipes the condensation off the mirror after his shower that night. Normally, Spock would do it himself after they bathed together. (“It is logical to conserve water, Jim.”)
When Kirk goes to empty his ashtray into the garbage bin, that cinches it. Spock has finished punishing him. Later that night in bed, Jim's neck is marked with teeth and he feels Spock’s hands reach for his own, drawing them around his waist and resting them across his heart. Kirk buries his face into that warm junction of Spock’s neck, his own heart beating against Spock’s back. It's a ritual for them; a reaffirmation of life. They must've done this a thousand times together at the end of each day. Some desperately quiet part of him realises that this is how he'd want to die, but he'll never voice that out loud to Spock, who would stiffen and tell him to go back to sleep.
Home, it turns out, isn't really a fixed location. Whether they were sailing through a distant nebula or sleeping in a slightly messy apartment in San Francisco with toast crumbs between the sheets, home was wherever the other was.
Author:
Le_Culdesac
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and hints of naughtiness.
Summary: Domestic bliss in outer space and San Francisco.
The whole point of shore leave was to give you enough time to miss your crew again, So, really, going back to San Francisco to live with your science officer for two weeks sort of defeated the purpose of it all, and Spock had pointed out as much, but who ever said he wanted a time out from Spock, anyways?
Notes: Prompt from st_xi_kink . I started and just couldn’t stop. It was just too much fun to juxtapose the Enterprise and Spock’s apartment. What was supposed to be a really quick paragraph ended up becoming a rather long fic, haha. It’s a bit fragmented, but I’m still really happy with how it turned out. I jump between tenses because I’m a moron like that, and was 5:49am. But, if you wanna be really nice, maybe you can tell yourself that it was a deliberate choice on my part because as smart as Kirk is, his internal monologue just sucks at grammar. Hearts. Also, totally gave up on the fucking LJ-cut thing. I've spent an hour trying to get the HTML to work. I concede defeat.
Because the Simple Fact is, Love is Never Discreet
Jim couldn’t control the shit-eating grin on his face. He probably looked like a whack job, but so the fuck what? He was on shore leave and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy every minute of it. There was something incredibly simple and fun about grocery shopping. Being surrounded by people whose biggest problems came down to choosing between the Rice Crispies and Lucky Charms was good for him. It was good to be reminded that, whatever else he had to deal with at the other end of the universe, “normal” still existed.
It was a nice contrast to the other fifty weeks of the year that were spent on the edge of exhaustion and, sometimes, nauseating fear. The enlisting campaigns make it look oh-so-glamorous and hi-tech because, hell, that’s what they’re there for, so they obviously have to gloss over the parts where you start to sleep with your back to the wall and a phaser under your pillow. Not all their missions were successful, and not all of it was about saving lives and diplomacy.
There was also the cabin fever. Being stuck on the same ship with the same people day-in and day-out for eleven and a half months could drive anyone crazy. By about the fortieth week, your patience runs dry and you’re not afraid to call a spade a spade. Even Scotty gets shirty at the eight month mark. Shore leave comes around so you take a break from the people and the stress. You say, “Adios, motherfuckers” and go home to hug your mother and convince her you haven’t lost weight. You sit around in bed for two weeks listening to news reports about other people’s ships, slag them off in your head, die of boredom and practically come running back because everyone in Starfleet’s an adrenaline junkie and oh-GOD-why-did-I-ever-leave?!
Rinse, gargle and repeat.
The whole point of shore leave was to give you enough time to miss your crew again, So, really, going back to San Francisco to live with your science officer for two weeks sort of defeated the purpose of it all, and Spock had pointed out as much, but who the hell ever said he needed time out to miss Spock anyway?
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Chekov had started a countdown calendar in the mess hall at about the one month mark and it ended up being the main topic at breakfast times. Sulu had signed up for a rock climbing class whilst Chekov announced he was going to do research in a laboratory. Bones had plans to go fishing and Scotty had promised he’d tumble into the first pub he encountered. Uhura had mentioned some vague plans about maybe visiting some relatives. Kirk couldn’t quite meet her eyes when she said that. He knew she’d been planning to go back to San Francisco with Spock until just last month... Well.
She said she’d forgiven him and she understood, that these things happen, but what else was she supposed to say to her boss? He offered to let her beat the crap out of him but she seemed beyond that point. She had said no, captain, it’s fine, when of course it wasn’t. He felt more than just a little bad about it. As far as he knew, she hadn’t told anyone the real reason she and Spock had broken up, even though it was well within her right. “We weren’t right for each other,” was all she’d say, without so much as throwing an evil eye in his direction. Whatever demons she was wrestling with, she didn’t bring them onto the bridge. He was thankful for that, but it also made him wonder. Could he have done the same thing for Spock? Been so gracious about stepping aside for “the other guy”? He doubted it. He wouldn’t so much as step aside for him as castrate him. And that made Uhura the better person... Which was far from comforting.
“And yourself, Captain?”
That voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he could see that Spock was deliberately avoiding his eyes. It was a little too studied to be casual or nonchalant, but nobody else could read it. He suppressed a smile. He was better at the discretion thing than most people thought. Certainly more than Spock had expected, anyways.
“Sorry, Commander?”
It was a bit of an on-going joke between them. (Contrary to popular belief, Vulcans did kind of joke. Or at least, Spock kind of joked with him. And they did laugh.) After Spock and Uhura were officially over, Jim had tried to needle Spock into calling him by his name outside the bedroom. They didn’t have to hide anymore, he said. He didn’t like hiding, anyway. They shouldn’t have to sneak in and out of each other’s rooms at all hours of the night, whispering in the hallways and sending desperate texts whenever they were available for a quickie. This wasn’t just about the sex anymore. They weren’t doing anything wrong. This was right. No, it was better than right-it was perfect. They’d made perfect come true. He wanted people to know that they were together and perfect together, damnit. Once he had finished his one man rant, Spock raised an eyebrow. “Jim, would you like me to document the many and various ways in which my father and Starfleet can and will make your time on the Enterprise a veritable torture, should they learn of this?” After that, they reached a compromise. Between 0900 to 2000 hours, they’d call each other “Captain Kirk” or “Commander Spock”. Never without a tinge of amusement though. “Commander” just sounded so stupid when you’d seen the guy on his knees in front of you, sucking you off like his life depended on it.
Ok, it wasn’t that hilarious, but it was funny to them.
“I was merely enquiring as to your plans for your shore leave on Earth,” Spock continued, meeting his gaze. His eyes seemed more probing than usual.
“I don’t quite know yet, Commander,” Kirk smiled warmly.
“You have no plans?” Spock pressed. “Surely you must-”
“Hey, Spock, what’s up?” interrupts Bones. “You finding out when Jimmy here’s free for a dinner and movie?!” he starts laughing and the table joins in. Even Kirk manages to laugh as Spock gives the doctor his famous ‘fuck you’ eyebrow.
Kirk catches McCoy’s eye. He’s laughing with the rest of them, but there’s something else there and Spock sees it too. Well. It’s easy to forget that everyone in the room has at least one PhD, and that they’re all probably busy figuring things out in their own, quiet way. Like why Captain Kirk and Commander Spock haven’t hit each other in a while, and why they seem to be disappearing together a lot. Or why Spock now ends each day by telling Kirk, “It is 2000 hours now, Captain,” and looks something close to, god forbid, happy.
For some reason, all lovers think they’re being discreet, that nobody else has worked it out yet.
But the simple fact is, love is never discreet.
***
It’s not as weird as he thought it would be when Bones later corners him in the turbolift and stalls it between the floors. (‘Turbolift’ is a misnomer. Really, they’re just verbal-confrontation pods that happen to travel between floors.) Bones has Kirk’s nicotine routine down to a science so it’s not hard to track him down. He’s a doctor. Half his job is to chase the captain down and bitch at him every time he has a cigarette.
“What the hell are you doing, Jim?” he crosses his arms. It’s pretty obvious this isn’t the usual lung cancer lecture so Kirk doesn’t play innocent.
“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.” And there isn’t. It’s that simple.
Bones sighs. “I don’t like the guy. No, let me finish. In fact," a pause. "I hate the bastard. That being said, he’s a damn good commander and he’s… a good man.” Bones grinds the last part out, as though it’s costing him a piece of his dignity to say it.
“You’re saying I’m not?”
“You’re a good captain, Jim, but you’re a bad partner,” he replies swiftly. “All you captain types make bad partners. You like flying ships because you hate anchors. That's why you're good at your job, but it's also why you don’t do relationships. For pete’s sake, Jim. Spock?! Are you out of your bleeding mind?” Bones is shouting now, and he really doesn’t give a second toss. “You’re the reason he and Uhura didn’t work out, aren’t you?” his eyebrows knit together.
“It just… kind of happened.” Kirk looks away, appropriately ashamed.
“Listen, these things don’t just kind of happen. Whatever you’re doing, you’d better nip it in the goddamn bud, right now. He doesn’t know about these things, damnit. Vulcans don’t understand that sleep ‘em and leave ‘em crap. If you break his cold-blooded heart and he pisses off to some backwater colony, we're going to end up without a science-”
Bones really doesn’t expect it when Kirk steps forward and gives him an awkward hug. When the doctor steps back, he sees an expression on Kirk’s face that he hasn’t seen before.
.
“You’re a good guy for caring, Bones. And you’re smart. But you’re also wrong.” Kirk grins in what he thinks is a fair approximation of charming, but there’s something more than just stubborn determination and confidence in those eyes. McCoy wonders what it is that he's seeing. "You have to be on my side," Kirk continues, "You've got to trust me on this one." And that's when Bones puts his finger on it.
It’s conviction; as though any other option is simply impossible. Pure, simple and utter faith. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
***
That night as they spoon in the single bed in Kirk’s room, he tells Spock about his exchange with McCoy. When he finishes talking, Spock is silent. “Spock? You awake?”
“Go to sleep, Jim.”
***
When they wake the next morning, their limbs are entangled. He would have thought Spock was the type to sleep perfectly still, on his back, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He was learning these things.
“You have yet to answer my question,” Spock says to the small space between their lips.
“Hmm?” Kirk’s not yet awake enough to form sentences.
“Regarding your leave. Have you made plans yet?”
“Oh, that,” he yawns loudly and blinks the sleep from his eyes. “I was wondering if I should just kip with you for a while?”
Spock raises an eyebrow. “You do realise that announcing that you and I shall be taking our leave together is tantamount to, as you humans say, ‘coming out of the closet’. I advise you to evaluate the consequences of this before you proceed.”
“That didn’t sound like a ‘no’ to me,” Jim grins, pulling Spock towards him. “And it's not like they're aren't already guesssing. C'mon, give us a kiss before you kick me out of bed, you heartless bastard.” At this, Spock looks puzzled.
“But Jim, I most definitely have a heart,” he takes Kirk’s hand and slides it across his abdomen. James can feel the gentle humming of the Vulcan’s heart beneath his palm. Something quiet settles inside his chest.
“I know,” he says, bringing their lips together.
***
All things considered, the crew took it very well. Some of them didn’t even look all that surprised. Scotty fell over himself laughing and Sulu looked like he wanted to join him, but he was too professional for that. Chekov had stared at Kirk and Spock as if they'd just clubbed a baby seal, but he always looks like that when someone mentions something to do with sex.
***
All Spock had told him was that he had an apartment near the academy for convenience’s sake. Not his precise words, obviously, but the gist was there. He hadn’t heard Spock refer to it as ‘my home’, only as 'my lodgings'. Kirk followed closely behind him in the corridor, shouldering his bag. When they stopped outside door fifty seven, Spock turned to face him. He seemed more tense than usual, if that were possible.
“Would you be at all offended if I asked that you remain here for a moment whilst I check that all is in order for your arrival?”
Kirk rolled his eyes and grabbed Spock’s wrist, unceremoniously flattening the hand into the bio-gel scanner. Laughing, he pushed them both through the now open doorway, interested to see what kind of apartment Spock kept. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he was definitely surprised.
A large kitchen area led into a balcony over looking the bay and, to the east, the academy. The light was soft and natural, spilling into the living area and across the warm ivory walls. A two seater sofa and low glass table stood in front of a media projector, whilst the opposite wall was lined with shelves of books. Beyond that, there appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom. A few art prints hung on the walls. (Who would’ve thought Spock liked Monet?) It was by no means sparse, but it was empty, whatever that meant. Kirk couldn’t help thinking that it didn’t feel very lived in compared to his room at his mother’s house back in Iowa. That would make sense though, considering Spock spent fifty weeks a year on the other side of the universe.
It took Kirk a few moments to drink in. It was so… human. Not that he would ever tell that to Spock. He nearly chuckled at the mental image of himself being forced to sleep on the sofa. He turned to face Spock, who had his hands clasped behind his back and cleared his throat..
“There is a hotel accessible from here, if it is not to your taste.”
Kirk dropped his bag-it met the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. In one swift movement, he had unzipped Spock’s black uniform jacket and was biting into the pale neck. “Stop trying to impress me and show me your room,” he laughed. “I wanna fuck you on a double bed for a change.”
Spock was a gracious host. Who was he to deny his guest?
***
Though it had only been three days since they arrived, there was something very different about the apartment. Perhaps it was the sounds of their mutual living or the warmth of two bodies under the same roof, but the apartment suddenly seemed much smaller than Spock remembered.
It was completely illogical as apartments do not shrink, but every time he went to the bathroom and noticed Jim’s toothbrush on the sink, picked a stray sock off the floor or cleaned two dirty dishes rather than one, he would marvel at how what had once seemed like more space than he would ever need had suddenly become very small indeed.
When Kirk fell asleep in front of the media projector on the fourth night and Spock carried him to bed, Kirk mumbled into his shoulder,
“I love you.”
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
“Well, well, well… If it isn’t Captain James Tiberius Kirk.”
Kirk knows that voice. It’s the sort of annoying voice you hate because it has all the nuances of 'bite me' woven into it, but it’s definitely familiar. He’s trying to figure out where he’s heard it before. He turns around to see a tall, rather good looking brunette striding over. He’s wearing the black academy uniform, so Kirk starts thrashing his Starfleet personnel memory for a name to match the face.
“Hi,” Kirk smiles, hoping he could bluff his way through it. “How’ve you been?”
The guy rolls his eyes, clearly not buying it. “It’s Harris Kingly. We’ve had sex.” That wipes the smile off Kirk’s face. “Don’t sweat it. You were drunk.”
“Oh.” Now there’s an awkward silence. There’s got to be some kind of law against confronting your one night stands after your one night stand, right? Or at least some kind of fucking etiquette guide for this kind of thing?
Harris stares pointedly at the contents of Kirk’s trolley and scoffs. “Just what kind of a party are you shopping for? Tupperware gathering?” He picks up a box of tissues and lets it drop.
“No party. I’m just buying some groceries with my uhh, boyfriend,” Kirk decides he likes saying it when he sees Harris’ eyes bulge but resolves to not use it in front of Spock. The last time he had come around from a nerve pinch, it had felt like a hangover. If hangovers were made in hell, that is.
“Are you serious?! James-I’m-Joining-Starfleet-To-Bang- As-Many-Beings-As-I-Can Kirk has a boyfriend? James-I-Can-Do-Twelve-Body-Shots-In-Five-Minutes Kirk?! James-I’m-A-Commitment-Phobe-With-A-Ten-Foot-Radius-Of-Personal-Space Kirk?!” he starts guffawing and Kirk resists the urge to clobber the guy with the cereal box he's holding. Why was it that unbelievable? Everybody settles down eventually.
“Yeah, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” he frowns. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”
“So who’s the guy? Anyone I know? You still go for the same type, don’t you?”
Kirk sighs. Just then, he sees Spock approaching them with a bag of bread in his hands. Harris, facing Kirk and busy leering, doesn’t notice. Spock stops to pick a box of Honey Puffs from a high shelf and pass them to a young girl who’s too short to reach them. She smiles delightedly at him before running off, clutching her treasure.
“Oh, depends what you mean by my type…” Kirk begins grinning as Spock raises his eyebrow, clearly listening. “I guess if you mean half-Vulcan, than sure.”
“Half Vulcan? What--” Harris starts, but shuts up and does a double take as Spock slowly walks past him and pauses.
“It is Harris Kingly, is it not? Xenobiology instructor?” The eyebrow has never been more fitting.
“Commander Spock! Yes, it is, sir,” he replies, eyes flicking wildly from Kirk to Spock. He misses the look they shoot each other. (If Spock were a human cartoon character, the thought bubble above his head would read "Seriously?" and Kirk's would say "How many half Vulcans does he think I know?") “I was unaware you were on leave, commander. What brings you to-”
The look on his face is priceless when Spock carefully places the bread in Kirk’s trolley.
“If your intended question was with regards to what may bring me to a supermarket, Kingly, then I must conclude that your powers of observation leave much to be desired.”
Baiting idiots was a mutual hobby of theirs, it seemed.
***
That night, Kirk learns that Spock is a jealous lover. His words are more guarded and there’s a certain coolness that radiates from him which Kirk hasn’t felt since the Kobayashi Maru incident. When Spock looks pointedly at the pile of Kirk's books on the sofa, Kirk clears it away without a word. He even wipes the condensation off the mirror after his shower that night. Normally, Spock would do it himself after they bathed together. (“It is logical to conserve water, Jim.”)
When Kirk goes to empty his ashtray into the garbage bin, that cinches it. Spock has finished punishing him. Later that night in bed, Jim's neck is marked with teeth and he feels Spock’s hands reach for his own, drawing them around his waist and resting them across his heart. Kirk buries his face into that warm junction of Spock’s neck, his own heart beating against Spock’s back. It's a ritual for them; a reaffirmation of life. They must've done this a thousand times together at the end of each day. Some desperately quiet part of him realises that this is how he'd want to die, but he'll never voice that out loud to Spock, who would stiffen and tell him to go back to sleep.
Home, it turns out, isn't really a fixed location. Whether they were sailing through a distant nebula or sleeping in a slightly messy apartment in San Francisco with toast crumbs between the sheets, home was wherever the other was.