Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Mr. Sulu, how much longer until we reach the planet?”

“One hour and 56 minutes at our current speed, Captain.”

Hikaru’s response came out almost mechanical, as though he was nothing more than an extension of the helm console before him. The journey had been uneventful so far, the Enterprise cruising along at an easy Warp 2. Hikaru had no reason to believe the remaining two hours would prove otherwise.

“Mr. Spock, what do we know about L’Tan III?”

“It is a Class M planet. Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. Capable of supporting life, but has no sapient life that we know of.”

“Any other life forms?”

“Unknown. Because the planet is so remote, and the Federation’s interest in it a relatively recent development, all we have is the minimal data collected by the A7C5 probe four years, two months, and 17 days ago.”

“Well, it’s unlikely the Federation is the only one to recognize the potential strategic value of L’Tan III. There have been reports of recent Klingon activity in the adjacent sector.”

“Captain, are you intending to beam down to the planet’s surface?” asked Spock. “If so, I should also like to be part of the landing party.”

That caught Hikaru’s attention. Why would Spock feel the need to ask to be part of the away team? He nearly always was. He and Kirk were practically joined at the hip, to the point that when they were apart, something was probably very wrong. If Hikaru didn’t know better, he would have said Spock sounded… Uncertain. Worried, even. Could the mention of possible Klingons nearby have shaken him up that much?

The Captain put a reassuring hand on Spock’s shoulder. That in itself wasn’t unusual—Captain Kirk tended to be quite liberal with shoulder touches and pats on the back. What was unusual was that, in the case of Spock, these touches lingered quite a bit longer than they would with anyone else. When Hikaru had first noticed this, he thought he was imagining things, seeing something that wasn’t there. Further observation had confirmed that, no, there really was a big difference. The kicker was, neither the Captain nor the First Officer seemed to realize it.

“We can figure out specifics as we get closer to the planet,” replied Captain Kirk. “Until then, keep on top of those readings.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Now, Bones has been hounding me for a physical and I might as well get it over with, so you have the bridge. I’ll be in sickbay if you need me,” said Kirk, making his way toward the turbolift. “Steady as she goes, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The bridge fell silent, but for the occasional faint beeping of the various monitors and screens. Hikaru glanced around, then surreptitiously leaned over to the navigator.

“Psst. Chekov.”

“Vhat is it?”

“Meet me in the rec room during lunch break, I gotta talk to you.”

“Okay.”

When Hikaru entered the rec room, he immediately spotted Pavel sitting by himself in the far corner of the room. The Russian looked up at the sound of the door opening, his face breaking into a grin at the sight of Hikaru. Hikaru grinned back as he made his way over to sit across from his best friend.

“So, vhat vas it you vanted to talk about?”

Hikaru decided to get straight to the point. “I think Spock and the Captain are in love with each other but neither of them realize it.”

“Vhat makes you say zat?”

“Well, for starters, their conversation on the bridge earlier.”

“Vhat do you mean?”

Hikaru laid out his observations from before, and the broader patterns he’d noticed, trying to keep his voice down to avoid drawing the attention of the group of red-uniformed midshipmen on the other side of the room. As he went on, Pavel’s expression slowly transformed from confusion to realization as he connected the dots.

“And have you noticed that Kirk is the only one Spock lets touch him?”

“Vell, now zat you mention it… I remember vhen I vas first assigned here and vent to shake Mr. Spock’s hand, he looked at me like I had personally insulted all of his ancestors.”

Hikaru laughed at the mental image. “And don’t even get me started on the way they ogle each other on the bridge.”

“Vhat? You mean it’s not normal for a science officer to look at his keptin more than at his equipment?” replied Pavel, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Right? They didn’t teach us that at the Academy.”

“So, vhat do ve do vith zis information?”

Hikaru leaned in and gestured for Pavel to do the same. Voice dropping to a whisper, he summarized his plan.

“You in?”

“Absolutely. Russians make ze best vingmen. Apollo said zat Aphrodite is dead, so you need all ze help you can get.”

“Huh?”

“Newer mind. Ze point is ve need to take matters into our own hands, and zat is vhat ve are doing, da?”

Hikaru grinned conspiratorially. “Da.”

Pavel fidgeted in his chair. They had been in standard orbit around L’Tan III for over an hour now, and Captain Kirk still hadn’t said anything about beaming down. Pavel kept sneaking glances over his shoulder at the turbolift doors, willing the Captain to reappear—and he wasn't the only one. Commander Spock had taken all sorts of scientific readings of the planet by now, of its atmosphere and weather patterns and seismic activity, but he seemed distracted—if such a thing was even possible for a Vulcan.

Pavel thought back to the plan he and Hikaru had discussed. Would it even work? So many circumstances had to align perfectly, and that the targets of the plan would take the bait was far from certain. Pavel willed himself to focus on the controls in front of him. The plan would never work if he flew the Enterprise into the planet’s atmosphere and everyone on board burned to a crisp.

At last, the turbolift doors whooshed open and the Captain stepped onto the bridge.

“Any updates, Mr. Spock?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain.”

“Well, in that case, I think we’re about ready to send down an away team.”

“Permission to accompany you, sir?”

Captain Kirk paused to think before responding.

“I think it’d be best if you stayed here and watched out for Klingons, Mr. Spock. You have the conn.”

“Understood, Captain.” Pavel could swear he heard the slightest tinge of disappointment in the Vulcan’s tone.

“Mr. Chekov, you get ready, we’re beaming down.”

“Yes, sir!”

Pavel jumped up and ran to the turbolift. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was Captain Kirk’s surprised-yet-amused face, and Spock's usual disapproving expression.

When the lift stopped, Pavel didn’t wait for the doors to open all the way before darting out into the hallway. He dashed to the rec room door and thanked his lucky stars when the door opened to reveal Hikaru still sitting there, now accompanied by Miss Uhura and another lady, with a hairdo that seemed to ignore gravity. Pavel recognized her as the captain’s yeoman, but was blanking on her name. She and the others all looked up at him as he paused to catch his breath.

“Pavel? What’s going on?”

“Ve’re beaming down. Keptin’s right behind me, maybe two minutes until he gets here.”

“Is Spock going?”

“No.”

The helmsman grinned. “Thanks for the heads-up, man. You’d better go.”

Without another word, Pavel ran off down the hall to the transporter room.

Before the rec room door could close, Hikaru peeked out toward the turbolift at the end of the hall. As the lift doors opened, he spied the Captain’s green uniform. T-minus-15 seconds. Hikaru ducked back into the rec room and muttered, “Ready or not, here he comes.”

Then, in the most genuine-sounding tone of disbelief he could muster, he asked aloud, “What was it you told me of today, that Mr. Spock was… in love with Captain Kirk?” He hoped it was loud enough to be heard through the door.

"Oh, yes, that's true,” responded Nyota, over-emphasizing each syllable.

“I didn’t think he could have loved anyone,” said Janice, in a tone of exaggerated surprise.

“Me neither. Honestly, I don't know what to think of it.”

“How do you know this, anyway?” asked Hikaru.

“Christine told me.”

“And how does she know?”

“Apparently Mr. Spock talks to himself out loud sometimes, and she happened to overhear it.”

“Maybe she misunderstood?” asked Janice, fake-innocently.

“Yeah, or took it out of context.”

“No, I don’t think so. She heard him recording a personal log entry about his feelings for the Captain, but then he scrapped it and berated himself for recording something like that on a ship’s computer.”

“Has he told the Captain how he feels?”

“No, and he swears he never will.”

“Well, maybe if somebody else told him…” mused Hikaru.

“What’s the point? He’s too wrapped up in running this ship to think about such things.”

“And making eyes at whatever female crewman strikes his fancy that day,” grumbled Janice. Ouch.

“Mr. Spock’s an excellent officer, and, out of all suspicion, he is virtuous.”

“And he's exceeding wise,” added Nyota.

“In all things except loving Captain Kirk!” insisted Janice.

“Well, he’ll probably get over it soon enough, once he realizes how illogical it is,” said Hikaru with a chuckle.

“For his sake, I hope he does,” said Nyota. “Mr. Spock is a dear friend of mine, and I’d hate to see him get hurt because of this. I respect the Captain, but I do wish he would reevaluate some things.”

On the other side of the rec room door, Jim stood frozen in place, feeling as though he had just been struck by lightning. The reality of what he had just overheard was refusing to compute. This could be no trick—there was no way the crewmen could have known he would have walked by this particular rec room at this precise moment. The conversation had been a somber one, not sounding like a joke at all. They seemed to pity Spock.

Love me?

Why?

The two-toned whistle of the communications system almost made Jim jump out of his skin.

“Transporter room ta Cap’n Kirk.”

Oh, shit. He’d completely forgotten he had somewhere to be.

“Kirk here.”

“Scott here, Cap’n. Are ya still plannin’ ta beam down to the planet? The rest o’ the landing party is here an’ ready ta go.”

“Yes, I’ll be right there. Kirk out.”

As Jim hurried down the hall to the transporter room, his mind was racing even faster. How long had this been going on? Jim had certainly been none the wiser. Why did Spock have to be so damnably stoic all the time? It had taken something adjacent to intoxication for the Vulcan to even admit he saw Jim as a friend.

Spock had cried that day. Jim’s heart clenched at the memory. Spock had confessed that he had been taught to suppress and be ashamed of his feelings, and, oh God, Jim had hit him. Sure, he'd been basically intoxicated himself, and the situation had been quite literally life-or-death, but still.

As the transporter room door opened, Jim shook his head, trying to clear away the crowding thoughts. McCoy, Chekov, and the rest of the landing party were already assembled on the transporter pad. Scotty looked equal parts relieved and concerned as Jim entered.

“There ya are, Cap’n. Is everything alright, sir?”

“Fine, Scotty.” Jim quickly took his place with the rest of the landing party. “Energize.”

The next thing Jim knew, he was standing on flat, dusty ground, scattered with rocks of varying sizes. Geologist Technician Quintero immediately made a beeline for one of the larger boulders. Somewhere behind Jim, Bones grumbled about his dislike for the transporter. Off to the right, rolling hills rose up against the lavender sky of L’Tan III. Lieutenant Nelson, the botanist they had brought along, set off in that direction, tricorder in hand. Chekov dashed after her, kicking up clouds of red dust with each step.

“Uh, Captain?” called Quintero.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Do you think you could help me move this boulder?”

“Sure thing.”

Working together, the two men were able to roll the boulder a few feet from its resting place. Quintero went about collecting soil samples from where the stone had lain, leaving Jim with nothing to do but think. Spock would actually be useful here. Knowing him, he’d probably have found something “fascinating” by now. Still, there was nobody Jim trusted more to keep the ship safe if the Klingons were to make an appearance.

Jim sat down on another nearby boulder and looked out toward the hills, where Lieutenant Nelson and Ensign Chekov were poking about in some low-lying, scraggly vegetation. Jim couldn’t be certain at this distance, but it sure looked like they were holding hands. He wondered what Spock would say about that if he were here.

Probably nothing, now that Jim thought about it. Spock would keep silent, his face its usual blank mask, but Jim would be able to read the bemused annoyance in his eyes. Maybe others really believed that Spock could not feel emotions, but Jim knew better. He had seen that neutral mask slip too many times to believe that the Vulcan was really as cold and unfeeling as he pretended to be.

“What’s wrong, Jim?” asked a gruff voice, dislodging Jim from his reverie. 

He looked up at McCoy. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that, I know ya too well. Somethin’s eatin’ ya.”

“Really, Bones, it’s nothing."

“Uh-huh." The doctor looked deeply skeptical. “Well, ‘nothing’ had better not come begging me for brandy later. I’m a doctor, not a bartender.”

Bones wandered away to take more readings. Jim remained perched on his boulder to puzzle over all that he had overheard.

“Has he told the Captain how he feels?”

“No, and he swears he never will.”

Why not, though?

For starters, Jim reasoned, this feeling was likely yet another painful reminder to Spock that he wasn’t the perfect emotionless Vulcan he aspired to be. That made Jim sad. He made it a point to regularly remind Spock that he valued him for all that he was, not just his logical Vulcan half. Each time he did, Spock would politely thank him, but Jim could never quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t really getting through to Spock.

Plus there was the fact that he was Spock’s captain. Somehow, Jim doubted that crushing on one’s superior was considered acceptable in Vulcan circles. 

“Making eyes at whatever female crewman strikes his fancy.”

Jim was not surprised by Janice’s bitterness. Her crush on him had hardly been a secret, and he had politely but firmly rejected her. Jim appreciated women as much as the next guy, but he would never make a move on any serving under him. (That didn't mean he couldn’t admire them, though, respectfully and from a distance.) The only people on the Enterprise Jim could, in good conscience, be “more than friends” with were those directly below him. Those people happened to be: 1) his very straight best friend, 2) a man whose first love would always be the ship, and 3) a man who claimed he couldn’t feel anything for anyone.

Except Jim, now, apparently.

“Mr. Spock is a dear friend of mine, and I’d hate to see him get hurt because of this.”

Jim found that concerning. Did Uhura and the others really think that he would hurt Spock? Spock was his friend too, on par with Bones at this point—just in a different way. Jim didn’t get butterflies in his stomach when he accidentally brushed up against Bones in the turbolift. He didn’t often find himself gazing in Bones’s direction, admiring how the light reflected off his glossy black hair and played on his elegant features.

Wait a minute.

Jim must have made some kind of sound at the realization, because when he looked up, he saw Quintero eyeing him with concern.

“Are you okay, Captain?”

“Fine, Quintero. Uh, how are those readings coming along?”

“Very well, sir!” replied the geologist, grinning. “I was actually going to go collect some more soil samples over there.” He pointed toward the hills, where Bones had since joined Chekov and Nelson.

“Great,” said Jim, forcing a smile. “I’ll make my way over there too.”

Under different circumstances, Jim might have chatted with Quintero—he prided himself on being cordial with every member of his crew, and enjoyed listening to them talk about subjects they were passionate about. Now, though, he lagged about ten feet behind the geologist as they made their way toward the rest of the away team.

“I respect the Captain, but I do wish he would reevaluate some things.”

Reevaluate what?

Uhura could have been referring to any number of things, but Jim’s mind landed on his “reliability with the ladies.” He hadn’t been surprised by Janice’s remark, but suddenly found that it stung. Did Rand and the others see him as some kind of womanizer? Did Spock? Maybe that's what Uhura meant when she said she hoped Spock didn't get hurt because of his feelings for Jim.

Sure, Jim had a bit of a reputation for “enjoying the locals” on various planets they visited. But he had never led anyone on, or intentionally broken anyone’s heart. He saw these flings as nothing but harmless fun—a career in Starfleet did not provide many opportunities for a committed relationship, after all.

But that didn’t mean that Jim couldn’t commit, or didn’t want to. In fact, he found the prospect quite agreeable, especially with someone like Spock.

“Mr. Spock’s an excellent officer, and, out of all suspicion, he is virtuous.”

“And he's exceeding wise.”

Jim agreed wholeheartedly. He was frequently impressed with Spock’s brilliant scientific mind and his levelheadedness during a crisis. True, Spock’s very close adherence to Starfleet regulations, particularly the Prime Directive, was occasionally frustrating. So was his unwavering honesty under circumstances where Jim would have fudged the truth. But over the course of their many missions together, Jim had come to admire the Vulcan’s strict moral code, and had often seen him use it to their advantage when interacting with distrustful locals or negotiating with adversaries.

Of course, Spock could also bend the rules when necessary. His commitment to decency and respect for life rarely conflicted with his dedication to Starfleet, but when it did, he chose them every time. His steady, reliable presence effectively balanced Jim’s sometimes impulsive approach. Spock had always been unfailingly loyal, and patient with Jim’s idiosyncrasies. Jim owed Spock his life, many times over.

Simply put, his First Officer and best friend made Jim a better Captain, and likely a better person as well.

And Jim was in love with him.

Spock was annoyed. Walking quickly down the empty hallway back to the turbolift, his face as carefully neutral as ever, he allowed himself to momentarily dwell on his frustration. Chief Engineer Scott had requested his presence on the engineering decks, citing a “situation” on Level 3. When Spock had arrived, however, there had been only a few junior engineers there, and no apparent problem. He made a mental note to speak with Mr. Scott about it later.

As he neared the door to the transporter room, he could hear voices within. One immediately stuck out to him as the strong accent of the Chief Engineer. Strange, the landing party had not yet said anything about beaming up. Spock paused near the door, just out of its sensor’s range, to listen in.

“But are ya sure that Cap’n Kirk loves Mr. Spock so entirely?”

What?

“Nyota and Janice both say so,” responded the other voice, which, Spock could now tell, belonged to Lieutenant Sulu.

“An’ did they tell you ta tell ‘im of it?”

“They did, but I convinced them, if they have a shred of respect for the Captain, to let him deal with it himself and never let Spock know about it.”

“Why’d ya do that?”

"Mr. Scott, you know how Vulcans are! Emotions are illogical, and love is probably the most illogical of all. If Spock knew, he might even have the Captain relieved of command!”

“Aye, yer prob’ly right, laddie. Don’ get me wrong, ah have great respect fer Mr. Spock, in a professional sense, but ’e can be a bit over-critical.”

“‘A bit over-critical?’” Lieutenant Sulu laughed. “Try ‘hard-core perfectionist.’ That’s all well and good for running a starship, but it’s not great for dealing with people.”

“Aye, people are nothin’ like starships. Not even Cap’n Kirk.”

“But he’s a great captain!”

“That ‘e is. Fer bearin’, experience, an’ valor, I’d argue he’s the best in the ‘Fleet.”

“He has an excellent reputation.”

“An’ he deserved it before ‘e had it.”

If there was more, it was drowned out by the sound of the communications system activating.

“Bridge to Mr. Spock.”

Spock took a few moments to compose himself before responding.

“Spock here.”

“I'm receiving a message from the landing party. They say they’re ready to beam up.”

“Acknowledged. I'll return to the bridge shortly.”

“Sir?” Lieutenant Uhura sounded confused. “Shall I tell the transporter room to stand by?”

Oh, right. Spock glanced back at the transporter room door. He could still hear the faint buzz of voices within, but no longer individual words at this distance.

“Yes, prepare the transporter room. Spock out.”

Spock spent the turbolift ride back up the bridge making sure none of what he had just overheard showed on his face. He could process this new information later.

That evening, once the door to his quarters had closed behind him, Spock finally allowed the reality of what he had overheard to sink in. Captain Kirk loved him? The notion was bizarre. Spock would have dismissed it immediately, if it did not seem so widespread among the crew. Lieutenant Sulu had discussed it with Chief Engineer Scott, having apparently learned of it from Lieutenant Uhura and Yeoman Rand.

Spock tried to keep the thoughts at bay as he set up for his nightly meditation. He needed a clear head to approach the situation.

It was logical that Miss Rand, the Captain’s personal yeoman, would know such information. While Spock did not interact with Miss Rand much, he knew that she did not have a reputation for dishonesty. Even if the yeoman had invented or exaggerated the Captain’s feelings, Spock was sure that Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu would not have passed along information they judged to be faulty.

The logical conclusion was that what was said was the truth. Captain Kirk loved him. Statistically, such a thing—a male human experiencing attraction to a male Vulcan—was far from impossible. Humans were but one of many species Spock had encountered capable of experiencing attraction to any number of sexes and genders, both within and outside of their species. On a galactic scale, that was not unusual.

But the Captain? All of his past liaisons—that Spock was aware of—had been with women. He had never been shy about openly admiring female crew members. He flirted with the female inhabitants of whatever planet they happened to be on, more often than not. Spock would be lying if he said he was not annoyed by the frequency of the Captain’s romantic entanglements—and Vulcans did not lie.

What reason did he have to be annoyed, though? Captain Kirk’s personal life was none of Spock’s business, so long as it did not interfere with their mission—and it almost never did. The Captain, being human, was prone to bouts of sentimentality and grew attached rather quickly, but appeared to move on equally quickly.

Continuing to try to meditate in this state was pointless, so Spock stood up and began to pace around his quarters.

Lieutenant Sulu had said that Spock might have Captain Kirk relieved of command if he were to find out about the Captain's feelings for him. Chief Engineer Scott had agreed. Do they really think I would do that? True, the Captain’s feelings were illogical. But he had done many other illogical things that Spock was aware of, and likely a great deal more that he was not aware of. The thought to demote the Captain for exhibiting this very human tendency had never crossed Spock’s mind. How was this situation any different?

He knew, of course. What was different was that this time, Spock was directly involved. Clearly, Mr. Sulu and Mr. Scott believed that Spock would be so disgusted by the information that he would no longer wish to work with the Captain. Did Jim share the same fear?

No, surely not. Surely Jim knew that Spock would follow him to the edge of the universe in a heartbeat if he asked him to.

But how should Jim know how much you care for him? asked a voice in Spock’s mind, one that sounded suspiciously like Sarek’s. All he ever hears is how irritating you find him and his emotions.

Could it be possible that Spock had played his part too well, acted too much like the perfect Vulcan he aimed to be? Had his stoic facade solidified so much that he no longer could express emotions, even when he wanted to?

Doctor McCoy had been right. Spock did not know what to do with a “genuine, warm, decent feeling,” another’s or his own.

That would not do. Jim deserved better than that. Jim, who had risked his life and his career for Spock multiple times, whose smile was as bright and warm as any Vulcan sunrise.

Spock looked toward the closed door to the shared bathroom between his and Jim’s quarters.

Jim, whom Spock loved, as much as it terrified him to admit it.

“Bridge to Captain Kirk!”

Jim stumbled toward the receiver, still half-asleep.

“Kirk here.”

"Captain! Our sensors just picked up a Klingon warship, coming at us fast!"

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Jim's system, chasing the fog of sleep from his brain.

“Keep an eye on them, I'll be right there. Go to yellow alert. Kirk out.”

Jim hastily got dressed, pulling on a shirt as he rushed out of his quarters, into the hallway—

—and smack-dab into Spock.

Jim stumbled back, managing to catch himself by bracing one hand against the wall.

“Apologies, Captain. Are you all right?”

“Fine, Mr. Spock.”

Jim looked up at his First Officer, looking as tidy and unflappable as ever. He suddenly felt compelled to run a hand through his hair, to tame what was doubtless a bad case of bed-head.

“You headed to the bridge as well?”

“Yes, sir. I heard the communication about the approaching Klingon ship.”

“Oh, did I wake you? Sorry about that.”

“There is no need to apologize, Captain. I was not asleep.”

“I—I see,” was all the response Jim could muster. He gestured in the direction of the turbolift. “Shall we?”

The turbolift ride to the bridge passed in silence, with Spock standing perfectly still and looking directly ahead the entire time. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jim fidgeting, tugging at the hem and sleeves of his shirt, and occasionally stealing glances at him.

At last, the lift doors opened. Lieutenant Sulu, who had the bridge during this particular gamma shift, got up from the captain’s chair and returned to the helm, relieving the frightened-looking ensign there. Spock headed for the science station. Jim stood next to the captain’s chair, leaning with one elbow on its back, almost nonchalantly—an image of confidence and composure. Gazing intently at the main view screen, he addressed Lieutenant Uhura.

“Open ship-to-ship communications, put it on the screen.”

“Hailing frequencies open, Captain.”

“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Identify yourself and state your purpose!”

A grainy image of a grizzled Klingon, with a patch over his left eye, appeared on the view screen.

“I am Captain K’uyahk, and my purpose is to claim this planet for the Klingon Empire.”

“That’s impossible, we’ve already claimed it for the United Federation of Planets.”

Technically, that was not true. The Federation had not yet formally claimed L’Tan III. Jim knew that—was he bluffing?

The Klingon captain spoke again. “You have been in orbit here for less than one of your Earth days. Nobody from the Federation has ever even set foot on this planet.”

“It seems your information is incomplete, Captain,” responded Jim. “We sent down a landing party, of which I was a part.”

“A common Earther attitude,” scoffed K’uyahk. “You think that wherever you step belongs to you.”

“And how many planets has the Klingon Empire arbitrarily claimed without even visiting them?”

The Klingon captain scowled. “I grow weary of this talk. Your ship will leave orbit at once. Your continued trespass will be regarded as an act of war.”

“Trespass? This is free space!”

The image on the main view screen blinked out, replaced by stars as the visual transmission was cut off. The Klingon vessel loomed in the center of the screen, now well within visual range.

“Go to red alert. All hands to battle stations.”

The klaxon sounded as Lieutenant Uhura broadcast the message. Spock made his way quickly to Jim as red lights began to flash on the walls and helm console.

“Captain, do you intend to attack the Klingon vessel?”

“Only if they attack us first, Mr. Spock.”

“Do you have reason to believe they will do so? It would be a most illogical course of action. As you yourself rightly stated, we are currently in free space. They would have no justification for an attack.”

“You mean they couldn’t use us trespassing as a justification. They want this planet more than they let on. I’m betting they’re willing to fight for it, and lie about their reasons if questioned.”

“Captain, they’re firing on us!”

Spock and Jim turned toward the view screen to see a point of red light, centered on the Klingon ship and expanding.

“Divert more power to shields and brace for impact!” shouted Jim, as the red glow of the Klingons’ photon torpedo filled more and more of the screen, blotting out the stars behind.

The impact shook the ship, flinging everyone on the bridge toward the starboard side. Spock was thrown against the railing of the perimeter walkway. The blow produced moderate pain in his first two lumbar vertebrae, but the circumstances afforded no time to dwell on that. Jim, having also been thrown, was now pinning Spock to the railing.

He and Jim had been facing each other before the hit. Now, Spock could feel the pounding of Jim’s heart where his chest was pressed against Spock’s. Spock felt the tips of his ears grow warm, but he forced the blush down. The bridge during a battle was neither the time nor the place for such emotional displays.

Jim quickly removed himself from the compromising position, muttering an apology. Spock thought he could see a blush coloring Jim’s cheeks, but with the flashing emergency lights, it was difficult to tell.

“Damage reports coming in, Captain,” called Lieutenant Uhura, her hair in disarray due to being thrown from her chair. “Minor damage and minor injuries in some two dozen sections along the port side.”

“Energize main phasers. All missiles to full power.”

“All weapons show ready, sir,” replied Lieutenant Sulu.

“All phasers, fire!”

“Firing all phasers.”

As the Klingon vessel attempted to dodge the phaser fire, one of the beams of energy struck near the tip of its right wing. Once the ship steadied itself, the red glow near its bow reappeared as the Klingons prepared to fire again.

“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Sulu!”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

The Klingons’ photon torpedoes passed over the Enterprise’s starboard side as Lieutenant Sulu maneuvered the ship diagonally downward. The Klingon captain clearly had not expected such a move, as the Enterprise’s next volley of phaser fire struck his vessel squarely in its port side.

“Report, Mr. Spock?”

“They have sustained significant damage to their main power plates, and moderate damage to their deflector grid. Should they continue the fight, they will be at a significant disadvantage.”

“Captain, the Klingon ship is moving away from us.”

“They’re… Retreating?” The ensign at Navigation sounded perplexed.

“Looks like it, Mr. Prasad,” said Jim, eyes trained on the departing vessel.

“It could be a trick, Captain,” cautioned Spock.

“I agree, Mr. Spock, which is why we aren’t going to fully relax just yet. However”—Jim turned to Lieutenant Uhura—“We can cancel red alert. Tell all decks to stand by.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

After just over an hour of standing by, the Klingon ship they had damaged had not reappeared, nor had any reinforcements arrived. Jim had returned the conn to Lieutenant Sulu, and he and Spock were presently in a turbolift returning to Deck 5.

Jim leaned on the wall of the turbolift. The adrenaline rush of the battle was rapidly fading, his exhaustion making itself known. His arm felt like lead as he brought his hand up to his temple.

Spock, perceptive as ever, fixed him with a concerned look.

“Are you alright, Captain?”

“Fine, Spock,” said Jim as he rubbed his eye. “Just tired. Can’t wait to hit the sack. Again,” he concluded with a chuckle.

“That is logical, Captain.”

Jim gave an exasperated chuckle. “Spock, please. Call me Jim.”

Jim had made the same request dozens of times, and Spock’s response was always the same: “As you wish.” This time, however, the Vulcan remained silent.

The turbolift door slid open and Jim stepped out. When he did not hear Spock’s footsteps echoing his own, Jim stopped and looked back.

“Spock?”

Spock had made no move to leave the turbolift. He seemed frozen, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Jim quickly retraced his steps and sidestepped back into the turbolift just as the doors shut once more. He brought his hands up to grip Spock’s shoulders.

“What is it, Spock? Are you alright?”

Spock did not respond. Peering into his best friend’s eyes, Jim saw something that worried him deeply: fear. He was about to insist on a trip to Sick Bay when—

“I love you. That is an incontrovertible fact, and it would be illogical for me to deny or ignore it.”

For the second time in the last 24 hours, Jim felt frozen in place. Overhearing gossip about Spock’s supposed feelings for him was one thing. Hearing the admission from Spock himself was quite another. Now there could be no doubt.

“I realize my feelings are inappropriate, and I will understand if you wish to have me transferred for that reason.”

“Transferred?” blurted Jim. “Spock, are you kidding?”

The Vulcan raised one eyebrow in confusion. “Never.”

“What kind of idiot would I have to be to send away someone I love, especially when he feels the same about me?”

“Jim, I do not understand…” Spock trailed off, the tips of his ears becoming tinged with green.

“Oh, I think you do.” Jim grinned. “Spock, I love you. I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

“…Oh.”

“And you don’t ever have to worry about your feelings being ‘inappropriate,’ okay? Nobody here finds you shameful or embarrassing for having them, especially not me.” He squeezed Spock’s shoulders for emphasis.

Spock nodded.

“Now, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, but I’m willing to give this a shot—if you are?”

“Yes, Jim.” Spock’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the fear in his eyes had largely disappeared, much to Jim’s relief. What he saw in the Vulcan’s eyes now was closer to excitement. Cautious, restrained, but excitement nonetheless.

He wants to be with me. The thought gave Jim serious butterflies. He tried, and failed, to suppress a giddy grin. This amazing, gorgeous, brilliant man wants to be with me.

“O-okay,” he said, voice similarly hushed, as though to avoid scaring off the metaphorical butterflies—or Spock, for that matter. “We can take things as slow as you want. Except”—Jim looked around—“We should probably get out of here before someone calls the turbolift.”

“And that one kind of looks like a horta, wouldn’t you say?”

The cloud Jim was pointing to was a typical specimen of the cumulus variety, drifting slowly westward across the azure sky with a dozen others like it. Spock supposed it somewhat resembled a horta. Or was it that hortas resembled cumulus clouds? He could not be certain.

Following the battle with the Klingons and extensive communications with Starfleet Command, in which L’Tan III was formally claimed by the Federation, Jim had secured permission for the crew of the Enterprise to go on shore leave. Spock had, as usual, insisted that he needed no shore leave. Jim had, as usual, done everything short of ordering Spock to accompany him to the surface. Together, they had wandered the idyllic landscape of the undisclosed planet Jim had selected, and eventually ended up here, Spock sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree and Jim laying in the grass with his head resting in Spock’s lap.

“Have I told you how brilliant you were to figure out that the horta was a silicon-based life form?”

“You have, Jim. Many times.”

“And that the silicon nodules were eggs? You knew from the very beginning!”

“I suspected it, but did know for certain until… later.”

“Until the mind-meld with the horta.”

“Precisely.”

“Thank you again for that, I know it was hard on you.”

“It was the logical course of action. One that would have been impossible, were it not for your decision to spare the horta.”

“I still don’t fully understand why I did it. I was so set on killing the horta until I actually came face-to-face with it. Or, face-to… Something.”

“You did not truly desire to kill the horta, you merely saw it as the only option under the circumstances as you knew them. That perception changed when your understanding of the circumstances changed. The solution you found to benefit the miners, as well as the horta and her offspring, was most logical.”

A few seconds passed in which neither of them spoke. They simply gazed into each other’s eyes, black into hazel.

Jim held up two fingers, taking Spock by surprise. He must have figured out what the gesture meant after seeing Sarek and Amanda do it so often on the way to Babel. Spock had been embarrassed by his parents’ inordinate public displays of affection, deeming them inconsistent with the professional setting. But now, with the beautiful, golden-haired man in his lap asking him for a kiss, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be able to do so whenever he wanted. The possibility was… not disagreeable.

Spock touched the tips of his first two fingers to Jim’s, and allowed the emotions he sensed through the contact to wash over him. There was contentment, and gratitude, and appreciation, and a profound admiration—an admiration clearly visible in Jim’s eyes as well.

Spock took Jim’s hand in his and brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the bruised knuckles. A blush spread across Jim’s cheeks. Through the telepathic link of Jim’s hand in his, Spock felt a surge of affection, with an undercurrent of surprise.

“Why, Mr. Spock, I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

“Nor did I, ashayam.” Not until you, he added mentally.

The two fell back into a comfortable silence, enjoying the sunlight and the breeze and each other’s company. Eventually, Jim spoke again, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“You know how I know the horta really is an intelligent creature?”

“How, Jim?”

“Because it agrees with me that Vulcan ears are ridiculously attractive.”

It was Spock’s turn to blush.

“Hey Doc, come look at this!”

Hikaru’s present fascination was a flower, about the size of his hand, with a single fiery-red petal that grew in a spiral shape. He captured some images of it on his tricorder as Doctor McCoy wandered over.

“Well, isn’t that something,” said the doctor appreciatively. “Ya ever seen one like it before?”

“Nothing quite like this. I’ll have to see if we can take one with us when we leave.” Hikaru made a mental note to come back later.

As the two men moved on from where the fire-flowers grew, Hikaru tilted his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. It felt like it had been forever since their last shore leave, and Hikaru intended to make the most of this one. Sure, he would have preferred to spend his shore leave with Pavel, but Pavel had run off with Lieutenant Nelson from the botany lab. That irked Hikaru for some reason, but he tried not to think about it. It wasn’t like Doctor McCoy was bad company.

“It’s a nice planet the Captain picked, huh?”

“I’ll say. Beats L’Tan III, that’s for sure.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Lots of rocks and dust and not much else. This place at least has some variety.”

“Just what the doctor ordered?” asked Hikaru, smirking.

McCoy scowled. “The last time you said that about a planet, I died.”

“But you got better!”

“Still, I’d rather not repeat the experience. I’m a doctor, I’ve gotta set a good example.”

“Of not dying?”

“Exactly.” McCoy paused, suddenly looking suspicious. “Ya haven’t found any revolvers laying around this time, have you?”

“Definitely not,” Hikaru assured him. “Have you seen a talking rabbit?”

McCoy harrumphed. “I’m just glad that business with L’Tan III is over with,” he said, and Hikaru couldn’t agree more.

After walking in companionable silence for a while longer, the two men reached a glade. McCoy, having begun to fall behind, called out, “D’ya mind slowing down a bit? I’m a doctor, not a cross-country runner!”

Hikaru stopped to give him a chance to catch up. He really hadn’t realized how fast he’d been going. McCoy came to a stop as well, and leaned up against a tree.

“You tryin’ to lose me, or what?”

“No, no,” Hikaru laughed. “But if you’re tired, we can go back to the ship. We might have seen all there is to see by now, anyway.”

“Could be.”

“Tell you what, Doc. You stay here, take a breather, and I’ll go on ahead, see if there’s anything interesting. Be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, Hikaru crossed the glade and continued in the same direction he had been going, leaving the doctor to catch his breath.

The grass was taller here, almost up to his knees, and interspersed with tiny yellow flowers. Hikaru squatted down, scanning the vegetation with his tricorder. As the readings processed, Hikaru looked farther up the path he was forging through the woodland. What he saw that made him freeze in his tracks: Captain Kirk, laying in the grass, with his head in Spock’s lap. They were still far enough off that they hadn’t noticed Hikaru’s approach. Hikaru dove behind a nearby shrub and peered through the branches at the, frankly, adorable sight. He watched, mentally patting himself on the back for his epic matchmaking skills, as Spock kissed Kirk’s hand. Damn, who knew Vulcans could be so smooth?

Hikaru’s communicator chirped. Oh shit. He crept away from his hiding spot, then, when he felt he was far enough away from the couple, dashed back to where he had left the disgruntled doctor.

“There you are,” grumbled McCoy. “What took ya so long? What's over there?”

“Nothing interesting,” replied Hikaru, as nonchalantly as possible. “Why don’t we look over there instead?” He pointed off to his left. “I think I see some flowers we haven’t seen yet.”

That seemed to be good enough for McCoy, and the two men started in that direction, on a perpendicular course away from what—or, rather, who—Hikaru had just seen. As entertaining as it would be to see McCoy's reaction to this new development, that could wait.