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After Sarek leaves, Kirk sits staring at the television. He refuses to cry. Or at least cry as much as he wants to. Because he really, really wants to cry his heart out.
Spock tells it like it is. And Kirk wants to punch him. He physically wants to punch Spock, and that makes his heart break.
“You’re incapable of command,” is what he’s being told, and what he hears is that he’s incapable not just now but always. What he’s hearing is that he can’t be a captain.
“Get out,” he spits, and Spock’s withered face — fuck, what did this fucking planet do to them? — turns dejected. Kirk says things he knows even in the moment aren’t true, things like he never wants to see Spock again in his life.
Later, on the bridge, Spock forgives and forgets, and helps the ship escape collective danger first before allowing himself to be dragged off by McCoy. Kirk watches him leave and realizes, not for the first time, that Spock is the best officer he’s ever had and probably will ever have the honour of working with. He also prays that Spock will forgive him his dementia-induced outburst.
Spock looked at Jim with a barely hid smile. “You forget I have no ego to bruise.”
When Jim “umm”ed and “ah”ed, still unsure of taking command of the Enterprise, Spock stood and walked towards the Admiral. “You are my superior officer.”
It smells good. Jim almost hates that it smells good, because he knows that no matter what his taste and smell receptors are telling him, it will feel like ash in his mouth when he eats his dinner.
That morning, they played chess and Spock beat the pants off him. Of course, he was gracious (read: smug but pretending not to be), and Jim laughed and challenged him to another game that evening.
Now, evening is days away and he’s moving so fast Spock can’t even see him. God, if he could stand frozen in place for hours (his hours, rather), he would, he really, really would, so Spock could finally see him. Finally help him.
When Kirk sees Spock, sees him seeing Jim, sees his reactions and movements working in time with his own new rhythm, his heart feels like it’s going to explode. He’s never seen someone look so determined before.
When Bones recounts it later, he says that Spock downed the medicine without a second thought. “Soon as he thought it had a high enough chance at success, he chugged it. He was determined to save you, Jimmy. You owe him your life.”
Jim smiles. “Yeah, what else is new?”
They play chess that night. “Thank you.”
“There is nothing to thank me for, Captain.”
“Don’t give me that. Not every First Officer . . . aw, hell, Spock, not every friend would do that for someone. You didn’t even know if you’d survive.”
Spock’s lips are pursed as he observes the board. “No,” he admits, “But I knew that there was a chance you could be saved. And . . . and I found myself unbothered by the consequences, if it meant saving you.”
Spock’s eyes gleamed in the low light of his quarters. “And my friend,” he added, and Kirk’s heart glowed with adoration. “I have, and always shall be, yours.”
Jim lays on the couch with A Tale of Two Cities resting against his chest. He brings it up to his face, then lowers it again. Bones got him new reading glasses, a less expensive pair, but Jim can’t find it in himself to put them on and sift through the words on the page. He’s not sure he could decipher a children’s book right now.
There’s a crash outside, and Kirk would jump if he weren’t so bone-deep tired. The heavy smack of rain against the window makes his eyes tear as though in sympathy to the weeping storm-clouds.
Fuck, his lungs are burning. The dreams, the imaginary friends, the whatever-they-are still chase, and when Kirk looks up he sees war planes flashing through the sky.
Spock’s hand comes down harshly on his arm, and Jim is tugged tight against Spock’s chest. A shadow encompasses his face as he falls into the shelter provided by the meagre rock outcropping. The planes fly by without noticing them.
They don’t stand there long, of course, because they still have to run, but it’s long enough to get a couple good breaths in.
“Thank you,” Jim whispers, and Spock whispers back, his own voice pretty out-of-breath, “Of course, Captain.”
Spock squeezes Kirk’s arm, and they set off.
“I like Savvik.”
Spock glanced at Jim as they rode the turbolift. “Indeed? I believe she approved of you, too.”
“Really? Didn’t seem too taken with me.”
Spock hesitated. He slowed the lift and turned to face his friend. “I believe it may be a case of . . . jealousy.”
“Jealousy?” Kirk asked, incredulous.
But Spock nodded, his expression betraying no hidden teasing. “Savvik and I have become very close under our mentor- and apprenticeship, Jim. I believe she sees me as something of a father figure.” Spock placed a warm hand on Jim’s shoulder, and the feeling seeped right through his jacket to his skin to his heart. “You and I are also close as kin, I think Savvik may be experiencing some confusion in herself over my divided attention. It has been a while since I have seen you so frequently.”
Jim fought against a frown with a grin. “Yes, it has . . . ”
“Do not begrudge it,” Spock chided. He started up the lift again. “This, of course, extends to Nyota, Leonard, and Hikaru as well, but you must admit of all of them, you are the closest to me.”
“So . . . you’re saying Savvik is at a family reunion where she doesn’t know anyone but her dad who is constantly hanging out with some relative she’s only ever heard anecdotes of?” Kirk summarized.
Spock raised an eyebrow, and ah, there was that teasing gleam. “So to speak, Admiral. Do not worry, I am sure she will ‘come around,’ as you humans say.”
“Ah, yes, don’t think I didn’t notice you admitting Vulcans feel jealousy, Mr. Spock.”
“I would never expect a member of my family to miss something like that,” Spock agreed as they exited the lift. For all he claimed against sentimentality, the bastard was probably the sweetest person to ever exist.
The rain not only sounds heavy but feels heavy as it hits Jim’s tired shoulders. The balcony railing squeaks under his hands as he leans on it, the water turned harshly cold by the metal. He could’ve taken a shower, he supposes, but why waste time slogging to the washroom and slowly turning on the water system and getting just the right temperature? Why not let nature work her wonders?
Slowly, Kirk’s tense muscles relax under the unrelenting pounding of the rain against his back. He shuts his eyes and lets the water flow over his bowed head.
“Jim!” Spock’s cry is the happiest Jim has ever heard him. One minute, Spock’s face is slack and defeated, about ten seconds away from succumbing to the fate he’s prescribed himself, and the next he’s grabbing Kirk’s arms and whirling him around. “Wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve,” indeed — Spock’s practically pinned it to a banner and waved it over his head.
Spock’s eyes flicker over to Chapel and Bones and he sobers quickly, but the light in his eyes and the honest smile on his face stay bright in Jim’s mind. When Spock talks about T’Pring and his failed marriage, Kirk feels a very twisted sense of pride. Spock thought he killed me, Jim realizes. And it made him not want to marry her. He doesn’t care that he didn’t get married. Jim wants to clutch his chest as his heart pounds, less it escape. But he cares that I’m alive.
The smell of sex was heavy in the room. Kirk had missed that smell, because Spock was right, it had been a long time since they’d been around each other this frequently.
Time to christen the Captain’s quarters again, Jim thought with a grin. Just like they had all those years ago when the Enterprise was shiny and new. She had changed, they’d changed, but sweet stars, Spock still felt amazing against him, around him.
They weren’t rushing tonight, the first night they’d had together since his birthday, and it was heaven. Jim leaned down and mouthed at Spock’s jaw. Even during sex, he managed to look put-together (well, unless Jim set to taking him apart). “Tell me again,” Jim whispered against his cheek.
Spock’s lips twitched into an indulgent smile. “I am yours.”
The first sob breaks from Jim’s chest.