Archive of Our Own ^beta

Q: Let’s start with the basics. What is a ‘crush’?
A: That’s easy! A ‘crush’ is a romantic infatuation, which may lead to stronger feelings like love and the development of romantic relationships. (For information on ‘love,’ turn to chapter four)

Q: But wait! How do I know if this is a crush?
A: Sometimes feelings can be complex and difficult to understand. Maybe you have intense feelings for a certain person—but what if you want to strangle them most of the time? What if you have difficulty talking to them? And what about that one dream you had where you pushed them out an airlock?

Q: I didn’t have a dream where I pushed them out of an—
A: Just sit back and prepare to be informed! In this chapter, we’ve prepared a list of seven ‘symptoms’ of crushes found in all approved Federation species. Begin by reading through these symptoms. Then carefully consider your interactions with your potential crush. Do you exhibit one or more of these symptoms? How do your interactions with this being differ from your interactions with, say, a family member?

Q: I did have this dream where I pushed my brother off this—
A: Let’s get started!

Symptom One: It Feels Good Just to Hold Their Hand

It is McCoy who realizes it first—as it is McCoy who realizes everything else first. Hey, put an astrophobic man with a deeply paranoid personality in charge of making sure that over four hundred people don’t contract weird space diseases and die (particularly the vessel’s captain who is at worst suicidal and at best blissfully masochistic)—anyone would start being pretty damn observant.

McCoy has seen the effects of Rigellian fever, and had some of those green pustules burst in his face on the operating table. The smell… Oh God, the smell. It didn’t come out for weeks.

The ship’s doctor has dealt with guilty-faced crewmen and sores all over their private bits after particularly ‘productive’ shore leaves and good lord, DOES NO ONE ON THIS SHIP EVEN REMEMBER WHAT A CONDOM IS?! HENDERSON! THIS IS DIRECTED AT YOUR DUMB ASS!

McCoy has operated on men whose intestines were dangling around their knees. Once, he saved the life of a female lieutenant holding her own lung in her hand.

None of this quite lives up to the epic disgustingness of coming up to the bridge (he’s got to go over these medical logs and Jim has been hiding from him for a week) and finding his captain and friend, James Kirk, holding hands with Spock.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, man!” McCoy bellows, hurling the data PADD at the floor. “I did not need to know about this! Get a room!”

He storm off in a huff, intending to spend the next two hours revisiting the brain-bleaching properties of Saurian brandy.

---

On the bridge, Kirk and Spock separate, the science log minidisc having successfully been pressed into a sour-faced Kirk’s hand. He’s going to go over the department heads’ findings whether he likes it or not, and Spock refuses to be affected by the mournful looks Kirk keeps sending him.

For the moment Kirk is too distracted to engage in manipulative tactics, and stares at the turbolift doors. Dr. McCoy just vanished behind them, snarling about his poor eyes. “What’s with him?” Kirk asks, puzzled.

The minisdisc has practically been impaled into his palm. Spock has a Vulcan death grip. Ow.

“I assure you, I do not know,” Spock replies. Kirk glances up at him and he suggests with a shrug, “…Space madness?”

Symptom Two: There Are Intense and Meaningful Looks

Uhura is one of the few people who knows Spock. It’s not like she possesses exceptional people-reading skills—even if she did, she watched Spock conceal his thoughts from a determined Betazoid every day during Advanced Linguistics 511. No, Uhura knows Spock because he lets her see who he is. It is a privilege and she’s grateful.

Or has been, until now.

“Spock, I have something I need to discuss with you,” Uhura tells him. They are seated on his bed, a change from the usual routine of afternoon recreation. She can tell that it puzzles Spock, who is doing the Vulcan equivalent of guiltily wondering if he forgot to take out the trash or left his socks lying around.

“Nyota?” Spock inquires, cocking his head. He’s picked up on her emotional distress by now, and as usual, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Uhura stifles a sob, and says, voice strong in spite of its shaking, “First—Spock, I want to tell you that I will always be here for you. Whatever you need, you can always come to me in the capacity of a friend.”

“I—thank you,” Spock answers carefully. “I appreciate this. Nyota, are you well?”

He looks so confused that for a moment Uhura thinks that this may all have been a mistake. That she doesn’t have to do this. That it will be alright to just—but no.
It would be a lie. Uhura knows what she saw. She knows Spock.

And she knows what she’s been seeing on the bridge, when Spock looks at Kirk. She’s never seen such longing on his face, as though he wants to do away with Surak’s principles, just so he can move closer. She’s seen Spock’s knuckles turn white with the strain it takes not to touch. Seen his eyes burn with a passion that has never looked on her.

Uhura will not lie to Spock, so she says sadly, “Spock. I wish to terminate our relationship.”

---

Spock reports for alpha shift in a state of shock. He was unaware that he had performed inadequately in their relationship, but Nyota would not be deterred. He has just found himself single, and… he does not know how to respond.

As he takes his seat, Nyota turns to give him a small, brave smile. Spock meets this with a nod because he’s unfamiliar with anything else he could try.

The bridge makes for a good distraction from his personal problems. The captain takes them into warp, and Spock makes the mistake of glancing over at Kirk.

This has been a problem for the past few days. He knows he’s staring, but lacks sufficient willpower to cease.

For the past few days Kirk has been wearing his uniform golds with the collar off center. 1.745 centimeters off center, to be exact. This morning. Yesterday it was 2.

It is, slowly but surely, driving Spock insane. If Kirk would just straighten it—

Symptom Three: You Can’t Shut Up About Them

People don’t tell Chekov things, because he’s young. This is a pity, because Chekov is also much smarter than people, yes? And it would be nice if they would save themselves the trouble, instead of turning to individuals who can barely tie their shoelaces in the morning.

Chekov doesn’t actually tell his comrades this (his mother raised him better than that), but this is the reality he endures.

Captain Kirk is an exception. He includes Chekov, focusing on the skill and intelligence that Chekov demonstrates, instead silly traditions about Earth years and who even keeps up with the legal drinking age?

Chekov also suspects that Captain Kirk is smarter than he appears to be. He either follows Chekov’s rants about warp core mechanics with startling ease, or he does a very good job of pretending to follow them.

Regardless. Chekov approves of Captain Kirk.

So he is, of course, invested in the captain’s welfare and when Kirk is complaining about Commander Spock for the eighth time that week, Chekov decides that something must be done.

Chekov says it as plainly as he can, “Keptin, I am thinking you should ask Mr. Spock out.”

The captain blinks at him, and Chekov waits patiently for him to concede the wisdom of Chekov’s words. It happens with rather disappointing slowness, but then Kirk starts to nod.

“You know what, Chekov? That’s exactly what I’m going to do. You’re a genius.”

Chekov is such a genius.

---

“Captain,” Spock calls quietly. He has already entered the captain’s quarters. The lights are still turned off, such that all Spock can see of Kirk is a sprawled out lump on the bed. “I am here to report that we have arrived at Sharus-II. Will you be beaming down?”

Kirk gives an unintelligible groan. Spock is able to make out the words “fuck off” and resists the urge to sigh.

“I could have told you that Vulcans do not become intoxicated from basic alcohols.” There is a pause, in which Spock feels that the silence has become vaguely accusatory. “I profess that I am curious. Why did you attempt to involve me in such an activity?”

It had been a thoroughly bizarre evening. The captain had latched onto him during shore leave, hauled him into the nearest drinking establishment of ill repute, and insisted that Spock join him in sampling the majority of the tavern’s alcoholic beverages. “I’m taking you out for a night on the town,” had been Kirk’s exact words. (Spock had responded with politely silent horror.)

“I thought,” Kirk says in a voice like he’s been trampled by stampeding hourol, “That I could help you understand the meaning of fun.” His tone implies that Spock missed the purpose of this exercise.

Spock considers this. “Captain. Is this related to the incident where you wished to attempt a barrel roll with the Enterprise ‘for fun’, as it were?” Which Spock had immediately shot down, because it was an unjustifiable waste of resources.

Kirk just groans at him.

Symptom Four: You Want to Touch Them All the Time

The away mission is fucked. And everybody knows it.

Twenty minutes have passed and there’s been no report from the team on the planet’s surface. That’s three men, plus Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy—Sulu’s friends. The Enterprise is still in orbit, and Sulu is getting increasingly close to suggesting they fly the ship down there, weapons and all, and demand their people back.

He glances at Spock, who is in the captain’s chair, looking grim. “Commander…”

“I am aware of the situation, Mr. Sulu,” Spock says with calm that does not match the way he’s tensed to fight. “Protocol dictates that we wait at least forty minutes, given no prior orders. We will wait.”

Sulu lets it go with a nod. Kirk knows how to take care of himself. He, like Sulu, isn’t afraid of a little elbow grease. Or intense phaser fire.

Besides, Sulu knows that Spock is secretly in their corner. Spock gets rather eerily calm when the people he likes are threatened, and then something ends up shot to hell and burning in the distance while the Enterprise sails dramatically forth along the final frontier.

After precisely forty minutes, Spock transfers bridge command to Scotty (another alright guy, although he does owe Sulu thirty credits). Sulu volunteers for the rescue mission and he and Spock ride down to the transporter room in companionable, adrenaline-shot silence. On a subconscious level, Sulu has decided that whatever force has left the captain indisposed this time, Sulu is going to shoot more of it than Spock.

It’s a guy thing.

In the end they both get outdone by Kirk, who goes on a total warpath when he sees one of the rescue party get downed by this planet’s slender, alarmingly lignified inhabitants. Sulu stuns three and Spock only takes out two (although Sulu has to admit Spock was distracted by trying to prevent Ensign Leotto from bleeding out, so it’s not a fair competition), while Kirk goes ballistic on at least five, before taking off after another that is fleeing down the corridor.

Sulu finds the wounded Ensign dumped into his and Dr. McCoy’s arms and then Spock takes off after Captain Kirk, no longer looking very calm.

“You got him?” Sulu asks Dr. McCoy, who waves him off. Sulu grins and starts to run, because those two might need backup and there’s always a chance that Sulu could pick off a few more tree-people and even out the score.

But before he can draw his phaser, he finds the tree-person on the ground in a twitching puddle of limbs. A few paces away Spock is hugging Kirk, with Kirk’s face buried into his neck.

They’re too far away for Sulu to hear what they’re saying, but he doesn’t exactly need a running dialogue. Spock is cradling Kirk to him like something very, very precious. Sulu isn’t really poetic, and the slimy dungeons of this tree-people race are not the romantic spot of a lifetime, but for a moment, they look… beautiful.

Sulu smiles and eases back the way he came to let them have their moment.

He’ll applaud and embarrass the hell out of them once everyone’s safely back on board.

---

“Captain,” Spock says, arms full of Kirk. Kirk snuffles a bit into his shoulder. “Captain, I must insist that you desist.”

“I’d be happy to,” Kirk tells him in a bright tone that does not make Spock feel any better. “If, you know, my legs were working. Which they’re not.”

Nor is the rest of you, except, Spock concludes, in a moment of grand cosmic irony, your mouth.

“I think I maybe got hit with a dart,” Kirk informs him, twitching a little bit, which Spock assumes is a failed gesture towards the fallen Enthelapian. “That guy pulled something out of his sash before I got him.”

“Maybe, or definitely?” Spock asks, having successfully found the limits of his patience.

“Um,” Kirk says. “OK, probably more like definitely? But it wasn’t my fault!”

Vulcans do not dump their incapacitated superior officers on the ground. Vulcans do not dump their incapacitated superior officers on the ground…

Symptom Five: You Make Grand, Romantic Gestures

Scotty isn’t sure whether Dr. McCoy really released Kirk from sick bay to inspect the engines—as Scotty doesn’t let him wander, it’s safe enough—or if Kirk is using McCoy’s deep-seated fear of radioactivity to hide here. Either way, it’s pretty amusing. First, because Kirk is letting Scotty explain the entire thruster guidance system, and second, because Kirk keeps walking into walls and giggling.

“This ship is like… like a big…” Kirk spreads his arms and nearly falls flat on his face. Scotty steadies him and gets grinned at again. “You know, Scotty? This ship is my home. For ever n’ ever.”

Scotty claps him on the back a few times. He knows just what Kirk means.

At this point Spock shows up and ruins it. “Captain,” Spock says testily. He gives Scotty a less openly hostile nod. “Mr. Scott.”

“Commander,” Scotty greets.

“Spock!” Kirk exclaims happily, ignoring the frown that Spock immediately aims at him.

Spock addresses Scotty. “The captain has absconded from sick bay against the orders of Dr. McCoy. I am here to retrieve him.”

Kirk nods agreeably, and stumbles towards Spock with the grace of a lamed fish trying to make its way to tree cover. Spock catches him before he hits the floor, looking immensely put upon, and Kirk slaps one of Scotty’s space flux emitters into Spock’s hand. “For you,” he slurs.

Spock stares at him, then at the silver device, and then at Scotty. Scotty stares back.

Kirk pulls something else out of his pockets and this too is deposited in Spock’s hand. “Also for you.” And then he slumps against Spock’s chest.

There is a faint snore.

Scotty’s space flux emitter, two metal coils of unidentified origin, and a handful of raisins; these are the contents of Spock’s hand. Spock stares at them expressionlessly; Kirk snores into his shirt.

Scotty blushes slightly looking at them. “Actually not for you,” he says, clearing his throat as he retrieves the flux emitter (although he leaves the coils; Scotty can’t bring himself to take all of Spock’s gifts). “This would be mine. Don’t even know how the bugger nicked it…”

Spock grunts, and heaves the captain up over his shoulder.

He actually puts the remains in his pocket. Then, with a professional nod to Scotty, Spock is off.

“Damn,” Scotty finally says when they’re gone and his worldview is thoroughly warped.

He now owes Sulu another thirty credits. He hadn’t thought that…

Really? The captain and Spock? I’m-so-Vulcan-it-hurts Spock?

…Damn.

---

Kirk wakes up in sick bay with a splitting headache that, judging from Bones’s slightly smug humming, is not strictly a symptom of his standard gray fever vaccination. He groans and rolls away from the smirking doctor. He finds that the table next to the bed has two frequency dampener coils on it, and a bunch of squashed-looking raisins. “Huh?” Kirk mumbles, which draws Bones’s attention enough to begin the preliminary rounds of My God, Jim; How Many Times Does It Take to Get It Through That Thick Skull of Yours That You Can’t Wander Around After Your Inoculations?!

Kirk nods his way through it peaceably (mostly because trying to speak sets off a horrifying tinny ringing in his ears), and waits for Bones to run out of breath. “What’s with that stuff?” He asks, jerking his thumb at the miscellaneous items.

McCoy tells him, “This is Spock’s way of telling you to throw away your own trash, apparently. Have any idea what that means?”

“No,” Kirk tells him honestly, sinking back into the pillow with a grimace. “My head. Ow, Bones.”

“Suck it up!” Bones snaps at him, and abandons him to a world of migraines and self-recrimination. He then returns a few minutes later, grumbling, and with a painkilling hypo. Bones is awesome.

Spock shows up an hour later with log books and an air around him that is less smug than Bones’s, but only marginally less so. Thus Kirk can assume that he also managed to irritate Spock when he fled sick bay.

He endures the pair of them, and hands Spock back the log book PADD when he’s finished signing off on things. With a raisin on top.

Spock doesn’t actually flick it at him, but you can tell it’s a near thing.

Symptom Six: You Want to Be Around Them Whenever You Can

“Hey, Spock.” Kirk slides down (uninvited) at Spock’s usual table. Spock eyes him and his tray of unhealthy food substances.

Spock then concludes that Dr. McCoy is not taking his meal at the usual time. This means that Spock has just been relegated with the duty of entertaining the captain.

He spoons some soup into his mouth in hopes that this will in some way preclude conversation.

“So I was thinking…” Kirk begins. And Spock yet again finds himself wrapped up in an argument that runs too hot. Each word out of Kirk’s mouth leaves him with a progressively more irritated. Kirk starts grinning, because he enjoys hostile discourse. Spock does not.

“You are in error,” Spock tells Kirk firmly. “It would at least require two phasers and a standard communicator if one wished to build a subspace scrambling device. It would not be possible to boost the signal to any significant degree otherwise.”

“Wanna bet on it?” Kirk demands voraciously. Spock regards at him in strict disapproval.

“2100, when we are both off duty. We shall meet in recreation room six, and you will concede your mistake.”

“Excellent,” Kirk says, taking a big bite of steak. “So, I know we’ve been hanging out off duty pretty much every day this week, but tomorrow there’s going to be this game night with a bunch of the other department heads. You up for it? Scotty said there might be chess.”

“It would be logical,” Spock concedes.

Since Spock’s relationship with Uhura ended, he has been spending a lot of time with the captain. The puzzling matter is this: Kirk has not asked Spock for any favors (well, none more than usual). He hasn’t expressed a desire to study under Spock. He also has not displayed behavioral indications that he has been involved in a betting pool about befriending Vulcans.

The only other experience Spock has with such intense socialization involved Nyota herself. There was a period of time during which she was constantly attempting to engage him in conversation, or involve them in activities to display their compatibility. The period directly before the beginning of their romantic relationship.

Spock eyes Kirk thoughtfully. Kirk has already moved on to the next subject, and Spock finds himself drawn into another argument that he doesn’t enjoy, even when his frown starts to curl up a little at the edges.

Symptom Seven: They Can Make You Do (Inadvisable) Things

Kirk gets that Spock trusts him. This did not come easily, but after about a year of getting shot at and being forced to rely on one another, trust was an inevitable symptom. So when Kirk tells things to Spock like “duck” or “don’t move” or “jump; I swear I will catch you, just please don’t put your boot in my face again,” Spock will follow orders without question. It’s half of what makes them a good team.

The other half is that fact that Kirk (though he hates to admit it), kind of trusts Spock implicitly too and complies with his demands way too often, seriously; it’s beginning to affect his self-esteem.

Anyway.

There’s a big difference between doing what you have to do because you’re getting shot at, and doing something because someone else thinks it’s a good idea.

Besides, Spock thinks Kirk is an emotion-addled idiot anyway—he makes no secret of that—so Kirk honestly isn’t expecting Spock to do it. He suggests it knowing that Spock won’t do it because hey, he’s Spock. He is king of logic-land and the path he walks is upon the bones of impetuous souls and all that.

So he’s admittedly very surprised when Spock downs the contents of his glass without so much as a blink. Because, apparently, Kirk told him to do it.

Oh holy fuck shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kirk thinks intelligently after Spock collapses and has to be rushed to sick bay. Oh god, that one’s new. Time to make a mental note, because clearly Kirk wields a much greater power than he thought and he must ensure that it is used for The Greater Good in the future.

Well, you know. The future where presumably Spock lives and someone figures out that Kirk is being possessed by a telepath in Ambassador Aninil’s diplomatic party. A future which Kirk desperately hopes exists, because WHY DID SPOCK JUST DO THAT.

That was insane.

There’s not much to do in his brain once he realizes that Spock is still alive and therefore Kirk can stop attempting an anxiety attack every three seconds. He’s a prisoner (well, at least until he realizes that he can also get in the diplomat’s head; people figure out that there’s a problem about the third time Kirk makes his jailer belch the Federation anthem), and so in the meantime he spends a lot of time reflecting on the holy what the fuckness of that moment.

He concludes that either Spock is crazy, or…

Or?

The diplomat gets Vulcan nerve pinched and Kirk’s mental strings get cut suddenly.

He wakes up in sick bay with Spock standing over him, looking rather menacing. “Hi,” Kirk says. He winces. He feels like he got run over by something antique. Something with wheels. Other than that, he feels surprisingly mentally intact. “What happened?”

“You were possessed by an Eik spiritualist,” Spock relays with promptness suggesting how long he’s been waiting for Kirk to wake up. “When the diplomat herself was incapacitated, she entered your body and attempted to fight her way off of the bridge. You were subdued.”

“Is that why I feel broken?” Kirk asks Spock, somewhat accusatorily. Spock eyes him.

“Excuse me,” he finally says, and Kirk is nowhere near fast enough to flinch away from Spock’s fingers. There is briefly—fucking again—two minds in his own head, although at least Kirk has the liberty to run away screaming from the intrusion this time, instead of standing paralyzed in a mass of alien tendrils of thought.

He doesn’t try to retreat. But ONLY because this is Spock. If anyone else did this, Kirk would kick the living shit out of them. Spock glides insubstantially through his thoughts and notes that particular threat with… With…

Kirk stares up at him in wonder as Spock withdraws. “Holy shit,” he gasps, and points a finger at his Vulcan first officer. “You do have a sense of humor! I knew it! All this time you were being sarcastic on purpose!”

Spock gives him a rather frigid look that does nothing to quell Kirk’s enthusiasm at the memory of Spock snickering. Mentally. Whatever. Kirk gapes and Spock heaves a sigh.

“I believe you are once again yourself and that all connections to the Eik have been severed. You are fit for duty.”

“Awesome,” Kirk says, and doesn’t move. He grins up at Spock. “You stayed just to check on me? Aw, Spock, were you worried too? Worried, and funny. The circus is coming to town!”

Spock’s expression manages to be simultaneously impassive and remorselessly vitriolic. “If that is all, Captain, I will take my leave.” He turns to go, back stiff enough that Kirk realizes that maybe his observations of Spock’s emotional character were in bad taste. Particularly when Spock tries so hard to conceal them.

“Hey,” he calls quietly. “You know, I’m glad that you’re okay.” Please don’t ever drink strange things again. “And that’s, uh, just on a personal note.”

Spock looks back at him, dark eyes unfathomable. “And I concur, as to your wellbeing.”

Considering Spock’s response to being called out on having a sense of humor, Kirk gets that this is a big deal. He manages a nod, throat closed over, and Spock departs. Kirk stares at the door and tries very hard to remember Spock ever displaying emotion towards anyone who was not Uhura.

“Um,” he says to himself. And goddammit, now he’s blushing.

So how’s your reading coming along? If you can think of instances in which you’ve had the symptoms, you may have a crush!

Q: Okay, maybe I have a crush. What do I do about it?
A: The most important thing is to recognize your own feelings. Once you’ve got that down, you may want to start thinking about how this other being feels about YOU! There are a variety of methods to choose from. (For more information on legal methods to gain personal insights, turn to chapter 12).

“Spock,” Kirk says, buzzing for entry. “Let me in. We need to talk.”

“Enter,” Spock calls. His door is never locked and asking for entry is purely for formality’s sake. Kirk needs formality right now.

He needs them to handle this in as professional a capacity as possible, to put it in a little box that will not affect their work relationship, or their mutual trust (and Kirk is hoping desperately that it won’t affect their personal relationship either, seeing as he really, really likes hanging out with Spock, but this is probably not going to happen).

Spock is rolling up his meditation mat, giving Kirk a patient look. Kirk stares determinedly to the left of Spock’s ear.

“It’s, uh, come to my attention,” he begins, and stops, realizing that he sounds like a massive dick. Fuck that. He tries again, “Spock, we’re friends right?”

Because Spock can’t take that back. He already dug his grave with the Khan incident.

“Affirmative,” Spock answers.

“Okay then,” Kirk drags a hand through his hair, restless and still unable to quite meet Spock’s eyes. “That’s… that’s good.”

Spock watches him, waiting for Kirk to formulate actual words. Kirk gesticulates helplessly.

Well, this is going inspiringly already.

Let it be said that Spock is seriously hot in an alien, eternally disapproving sort of way. Kirk has always had a thing for green, and for dark hair—and. Hell, this isn’t helping. He likes Spock. He likes pissing him off, likes being able to trust him to watch Kirk’s back. Likes the way he thinks and the way he’s never afraid to give Kirk shit. And heaven knows that Kirk’s initial confusion about why on earth Uhura was interested in a robot—that one had, er, spawned some uncomfortably intimate fantasies of strong Vulcan hands and intense, dark gazes and AGH, SHUT UP.

Kirk decides at this point to stop shooting himself in the foot with his own train of thought.

“Alright, I’m just going to say this all at once,” Kirk finally sighs, because Vulcans do not understand incomprehensible charades any better than humans. “Let me say my piece, and then it can be your turn. Sound good?”

“Captain—“ Spock begins, now looking uncomfortable too. It’s funny how a brief glimpse of Spock’s mind has made it so Kirk can read him. He’s actually pretty expressive—in how little he chooses to show. It makes the tiniest hint of emotion look like a neon sign dangling over his head and blaring: BEHOLD MY FEELINGS, BITCHES.

“Please?” Kirk interrupts, before he can behold any more of Spock’s feelings.

Spock is giving Kirk a weird look. “…Very well. Please continue.”

“Okay. The thing is,” Kirk says, “I’m really not good with this stuff. With relationships, I mean; I’ve got a history of seriously getting myself into trouble. And you’ve got to know that I’m making a point of not bringing my problems onto the ship. I definitely don’t want them on the bridge. I mean you’re seriously great, Spock, but I just…” I’m not looking for a relationship and I think that if you look up monogamy in the dictionary, there are two dour Vulcans that will stare unnervingly back at you.

“Captain,” Spock interrupts gently, folding his hands together, which Kirk can see clearly in his peripheral vision and it is way too distracting. “Are you attempting to disclose your romantic attraction towards me?”

Kirk’s jaw drops. “…My what now?”

“That you,” Spock fidgets slightly, shifting his weight. “Like me? Love me? I am unaware as to your preferred term.”

Kirk wonders if there’s been another transporter error in the past few weeks. “What?” He says again, a little desperately.

“If so, I would like to stop you before you go any further,” Spock goes on a little too quickly. “While I hold a not inconsiderable personal regard for you, I do not believe that we would prove compatible. On this basis, I must refuse your affections.”

“WHAT?” Kirk says a third time, and at this point he’s looking Spock in the eye and sees that Spock is now avoiding his gaze. Kirk advances, brandishing a finger. “Wait, wait—no. You’re the one who likes me!”

Spock’s eyebrows snap low. “I am trying to express to you that it is not a romantic regard—“

“Good, because I’m not into you like that either—“

“Your words are inconsistent with your behavior, Captain; you have expressed increasing willingness to—“

“And what do you even mean ‘incompatible’—“ Kirk breaks off, having successfully advanced to the point where he and Spock are chest to chest and he’s got to decide to either shove him for being stupid or back away. Both feel slightly like a loss.

He scowls at Spock instead, leaving it to him to back away. “So you’re saying that you thought I, uh, was attracted you?” Spock gives a single nod. Kirk rolls his eyes. “Well this is kind of fucked up. I thought you had—you know. Vulcan feelings for me. I came here to tell you that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Spock’s eyebrows rise again, and now he suddenly looks a lot less combative. “Indeed?” He asks. He still hasn’t moved. Kirk concludes that Vulcans do not understand personal space, and wonders what his own excuse for not moving is.

“Yeah,” he tells Spock, wanting to laugh. “Seems like we got worked up for nothing.”

“It appears so,” Spock muses, and Kirk really feels like he should step away. There’s a sort of tension in the air that usually precedes his getting punched.

Spock isn’t going to take it as an insult that Kirk isn’t hot for him, right? Spock should be relieved. He will not need to file sexual harassment charges and Kirk will not need to take the special correspondence course about appropriate conduct.

Spock’s head tilts. “Captain, your heart rate has increased significantly.”

“You can hear my heartbeat?” Kirk winces. His heart is drumming. “That’s kind of messed up.” As he says it, he makes some sort of automatic observation of Spock. “Hey, you’re breathing hard.” He winces again. “Hell. You’re not… actually mad, are you?”

“No.” Spock doesn’t elaborate, but his breathing pattern abruptly shifts back to normal, so Kirk can tell he touched a nerve. Spock’s eyes have locked on Kirk’s, and Kirk weirdly feels like Spock is deeper inside his head than when he was literally inside his head. Again, this is not the sort of intrusion he allows.

OK, seriously, why aren’t either of them moving?

“Um, well, glad we got that out of the way,” Kirk says, and steps away from Spock because insanity is fleeting, but not wanting to get punched out by a pissed-off Vulcan is eternal. Spock blinks as he does, and moves back as well.

They shuffle for a minute, both of them somehow ending up on opposite sides of the room, eying each other warily, and Kirk isn’t going to question that too much.

“Well, this was informative, huh?” He says, edging his way back towards the door. Spock has begun to unroll his meditation mat again. Kirk experiences a flash of ill-timed guilt. “See you on the bridge?”

“Affirmative,” Spock says, settling onto the mat with an expression of absolute solemnity. “I wish you a productively restful sleep cycle.”

“And you have a good time, uh…” Kirk tries to encompass Vulcan meditation in a hand gesture. He fails once more, and cuts his losses. “Bye, Spock,” he squeaks, and then flees in terror.

But, you know, manfully and shit.

He makes it to his own quarters, at which point he beats his head into the wall a few times.

Does his heart actually fucking flutter when he thinks of Spock’s eyes on him? He’s so, so screwed.

---

In Spock’s own quarters, there is a single, miserable groan.

Of all the species, cultures, and individual personalities in the universe, why James Kirk?

Tomorrow Spock will begin research on a means of hormonal therapy to… cure this. Because this is going to be a problem.

For now Spock attempts to meditate his way through the rush of anger that being told “not into you like that” ignited within him, the way the clear, alien color of Kirks’ eyes increased his respiration rate beyond usual parameters, and the way he had not wanted Kirk to step away at all.

Incompatible. This was Spock’s term. And Spock is currently experiencing why exactly humans refer to this emotion as ‘kicking oneself.’

Q: Alright. I have legally obtained insight into their feelings. What next? Do I start breaking out the marriage certificates? Or should I maybe ask them to a nice dinner and a holovid?
A: It’s different with every couple. From there, simply let things take their natural course. Make sure you consider any consequences beforehand, but do what feels right for you.

Q: Yeah, that would be great. Except they don’t like me back!
A: IT’S IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER THAT EVEN IN CROSS-SPECIES RELATIONSHIPS, FREE WILL IS MANDATORY BETWEEN INDIVIDUALS IN FEDERATION SPACE. And sometimes we’re just not compatible. (For more information on Heartbreak, turn to chapter 33).

Q: But I really like them. Do I have to give up?
A: Not until they get a restraining order.

Kirk grins at Spock on his way to the captain’s chair. “Morning, Spock.”

“Keptin on ze bridge!” Checkov proclaims loudly. Spock nods his own quiet greeting as amicably as possible. Neither of them give any sign that they so much as remember a deathly awkward conversation taking place last night. That it would be, respectively, stupid and illogical, because they resolved that discussion nicely.

Not happening, Kirk reminds himself silently, as he slides into his chair.

Retain your control, Spock thinks, turning back to the science station.

The rest of the bridge crew resigns themselves to feeling like a collective third wheel to Captain James Kirk and Commander Spock’s ongoing romance through the universe.

Q: What if I have a crush on them AND they return my feelings... but I still don’t want to try to deepen this relationship because this person kind of annoys the crap out of me?
A: Just remember: Fate bitch slaps those who attempt to defy her.

Q: …What?
A: Hard. In the face.

“Captain, I wish to address an observation with you.”

“Yeah, Spock? Wait—is this supposed to distract me? Because I’m still kicking your ass. Check.”

“It is not a distraction.”

“You’re more distracted than me. You still think I’m supposed to suck at chess, don’t you?”

“Indeed. My observation is that my past behavior has been in error on that front. As well as another.”

“Wait, you’re admitting you were wrong? Am I dying again already? Check.”

“Captain, I am romantically disposed towards you.”

“…”

“I would appreciate a response.”

“…What?”

“Very well. I cannot make it any plainer than this; I am in love with you, Captain. I would like to kiss you. Right now, specifically. If you are not firmly opposed.”

“Ha ha, I get it. McCoy put you up to this, didn’t he? Alright. But you’re still in checkma—mmph!”

Spock pulls away from the captain slowly, lips cool and tingling from contact with Kirk’s mouth. Kirk’s eyes are wide open, darting across Spock’s face like he is seeking something.

“Captain,” Spock says quietly. Beneath his hand (the one on Kirk’s jaw, not the one that grabbed a handful of his captain’s askew collar and subtly jerked it back into place), Kirk’s mind is moving too fast to pin down.

Kirk seems to focus on him at the title—and then glares. “Really? You’re really going to call me captain after you just stealth kissed me?”

“It was not meant to be ‘stealthy’,” Spock points out, starting to scowl inadvertently. “I stated my purpose, I attained your consent, why are you so—“

"Spock," Kirk growls. His skin is cold, but his mind is aflame and Spock is drawn to it, leaning closer until their foreheads graze and Kirk presses against him. Their proximity makes it hard to think.

“Jim,” Spock breathes. “I want…”

Kirk makes a sharp, almost pained sound—and Spock feels a rush of intense arousal at the sound of Kirk’s given name. A name shaped in Spock’s voice, and the arousal is just the surface, beneath it Spock can feel a groundswell of warmth, of an affection Kirk has titled as ‘Stupid,’ of a desire to match his own. Of what Spock never imagined love could even like.

Spock breathes out again, just trying to keep himself from being washed away.

Kirk kisses him hard, burying his cool hands in Spock’s hair, making a mess of him, and…

Well among other things, the entire bridge crew now owes Admiral Pike fifty credits.

(For information on enjoyable activities cross-species couples might choose to engage in, turn to chapter 68.)