Chapter Text
The next time it happens, Jim isn’t even in the middle of a breakdown. The breakdowns, although they happen, don’t happen as regularly as they did. They happened more frequently than Jim would like, but not frequently enough to render Jim inoperable. Generally, Jim’s OCD manifested itself in minor compulsions, the occasional tic, and an incessant need to wash his hands more than once. Just, lots of things that compiled into one big thing.
No, this particular moment of Spock-Jim contention happens because of Spock.
Whatever weirdness between Spock and Uhura results in more weirdness. He and Bones, in absence of chess with Spock, had taken to bullshitting more often—usually just playing cards or working through endless piles of paperwork side by side—and one day, Uhura waltzed in, sat down, and injected herself into their bubble. Since then, Uhura has taken to hanging around Jim more often (with or without Bones), which was unusual considering that Uhura still hadn’t even told Jim her first name. (He realizes that he can just look at her file, but that would require both paperwork and effort. Also, it feels like cheating.) Whatever she did with Spock on their own time, Uhura apparently deemed worthy of doing with Jim instead. He’s definitely not complaining, but the befuddled confusion when he sees her in his doorway never fully lessens.
There are two main effects of Uhura’s decision, the second much weirder than the first.
The first effect was made apparent to both of them about three weeks into their arrangement, when Uhura suddenly looked up from whatever book she was reading.
“Wow,” She said, with wide eyes, “I actually like being around you.”
“Gee thanks,” Jim said back, only a little hurt, “tell me how you really feel.”
Uhura seemed as surprised at her proclamation as Jim. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Jim raised a brow, but said nothing else.
Uhura looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, or drop the subject, but instead she soldered on. “It’s just… when we met, you painted a very vivid picture of the kind of person you were. As much as the Federation likes to peddle this idea that things are ‘better’ and that ‘the future is now,’ I met that kind of person, that sort of man, that you painted on yourself frequently. And you never proved me wrong. You seemed to delight in purposely antagonizing me. No matter where I looked, I felt like you were there, to mock me, to hit on me, or to prove to me that you were… better? Somehow? I didn’t like how you made me feel. And it didn’t help that you’re you and have a whole legacy behind you. How do you report a person like that? A person who’s dad is a martyr, and who’s been vouched for by Pike? And then we ended up on a ship together, working together on the same command team every day, and I had no other options but to avoid you, or face social ostracization for publicly denouncing you. I’m just surprised that you can be… quiet, I guess.”
Jim digested this. It was true that he antagonized her, purposefully, until it became a habit and the defining feature of their relationship. It was true that they met under less than ideal circumstances, with Jim treating her poorly. Everything Uhura said was true, and Jim had no excuse for it. Even more concerning, was that he was supposed to make her feel safe and secure as her direct commander.
“Uhura, I’m sorry,” Jim said, after a long pause. “I don’t really have an excuse for my behavior. I will say that when we met, I was not in the best mental state, but again, that doesn’t really excuse my behavior. If you need to report me now, I encourage you to. This is a big blindspot that I didn’t realize I had, and honestly, didn’t want to. I’m sorry, both as your captain, and as a shitty guy you met in a bar.”
Uhura smiled softly. “I really appreciate that apology. And there’s no reason for me to report you. You definitely changed once you became a captain, a lot less” here she gestured vaguely, in the ancient tradition of linguists, “and you never made me feel insecure in my position. Generally the opposite, actually. Being on your crew makes me feel valued.”
Jim released a big breath of air. “Good. I really didn’t want to be reported, that would suck so bad.”
She finally gave into her ever present urge to roll her eyes. “Nevermind. I’m back to not liking you.”
“No, wait,” Jim whined, “if I’m demoted to shitty bar guy again, I’ll have to ask Spock to beat me up in your honor. And let me tell you, Vulcans really pack a chokehold.”
A cloudy look overtook the relaxed look on Uhura’s face. “Yeah. Spock .”
And that’s where they stopped their conversation, both of them returning to their respective tasks.
That much needed conversation broke down a wall between the two of them, and Jim is happy to report that their relationship seems to resemble something like genuine friendship. Jim enjoys Uhura’s friendship much more than he enjoys antagonizing her (though, he still does. But it’s more playful, and Uhura does it right back now, without holding anything back. Honestly the best part about being friends was Uhura’s delightfully intelligent insults. Jim will never recover from being called ‘a corn shucking, country-girls-make-do, basic Iowan whore.’)
Jim suspects that this visible change is what led to the second effect of Uhura’s Jim-fever; Spock lost his goddamn mind.
While Spock seems, generally, to be having a sort of crisis at all times these days, he never deliberately projected that behavior outwards. But three days after Uhura and Jim’s big breakthrough, Spock started, for lack of a better term, bullying Uhura. At every chance he got, he turned that harsh Vulcan logic onto her: pointing out her mistakes in front of everyone, quips about her ‘illogical’ habits, and, memorably, snipes at her posture and uniform.
Uhura never seems phased by Spock’s interactions with her, almost seeming to expect them with every shift. She accepts all his comments with a steely determination, and no matter how much Jim presses, she refuses to tell him what this is about.
All of this, seemingly, is the direct cause of the new Spock-Jim contention. After a very pointed comment at Uhura’s ponytail height, of all things, Jim decided that he couldn’t sit by and allow his first to talk to the crew like that. Jim had been hoping that the snipes would calm down on their own, but Spock seems determined to take up a career in verbal-sharpshooting.
So, in spite of Uhura’s advice, Jim makes the decision to pull Spock aside.
“Spock,” he says, as alpha shift ends, “I need to speak with you.”
Spock, to his credit, doesn’t run the other way screaming like Jim can see he wants to. Instead, he calmly follows Jim into his ready room, and takes a delicate seat at the table. Jim doesn’t sit down next to him like he usually would, but instead sits across the table.
“I’m speaking, firstly, as your captain,” Jim starts. Spock doesn’t nod, but his shuttered face is pointed at Jim’s, so Jim assumes he’s listening. “I called you in here because you seem to have developed a problem with Lt Uhura. There has not been a single point within the last week that you have not taken an opportunity to tear her down. Care to explain, commander?”
Spock blinks numbly. Jim absently notices Spock’s makeup look, a stark purple with heavy eyeliner. “I am merely ensuring she is aware of the job, Captain. Minor infractions build up, and it is only logical to– ”
Jim cuts him off. “I think we both know that’s not true. Because it’s not just Uhura, is it? It’s also Bones, whom you’ve stopped speaking to entirely, and me. I’ve let this behavior go on for much longer than I should have, I’ll admit, but I didn’t want to press you because I thought that you trusted me enough to tell me if something was really wrong.”
Spock’s face somehow manages to clam up even more. “I do not believe that is any of your business.”
That hurt much more than Jim was willing to admit. Sure, he and Spock were nearing two months of Spock-sanctioned no contact, but he didn’t think that it was because Spock no longer considered him a friend.
He knows. A little voice whispers in Jim’s ear. He knows about it, and he hates you, and that’s why he doesn’t want to be your friend.
Jim breathes in deeply, and lets the thoughts go. He doesn’t tap his fingers the way his body wants him to, but they do twitch. Spock notices, a quick glance to the motion of Jim’s fingers. His nose flares.
“It becomes my business,” Jim says, pushing past all the hurt, “when it starts to affect the crew.”
Spock opens his mouth to argue, but Jim raises a hand to pause him.
“Before you say anything,” Jim says sternly, “it absolutely is affecting the crew. Your repeated bashings of Uhura are obviously affecting her. Bones misses you. I miss you. All of us are worried about you.”
Spock didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t move. Jim didn’t think that he was breathing. The only indication that Spock was still alive and listening was the fact that he had started blinking. Rapidly. It was the most emotion that Jim had seen from Spock directly, almost ever.
(Belatedly, Jim remembers that, though Vulcans do not have tear ducts, Spock is only half-Vulcan, and his tear-ducts remained painfully human.)
“It is,” Spock sounded completely in control, “manageable. It is of no consequence.”
Jim knew that was bullshit, and he knew that Spock knew what he was saying was bullshit.
“But it isn’t,” Jim retorts, “very clearly it isn’t. Spock, you’re burning yourself. And you’re burning all of us in the process! This isn’t like you. You need help. Please talk to us. We just want to help. I thought we could trust each other.”
This time, Spock flinches, as though he had been slapped. Jim’s jaw drops, and he brings a hand to cover it. He knew Spock wasn’t in the best place, mentally, but Jim never thought that- that he even could .
“Spock,” He murmurs, not even aware that he had spoke. Spock glances at the ceiling, blinking slowly, as though to save his eyeliner. When he looks back at Jim, the shutter is back down. His face buffed over and smooth; a picture perfect Vulcan, sat poised in his chair. Jim’s heart squeezed. He had no idea. Jim was so caught up in his own shit that somehow, he managed to miss that Spock–beautiful, intelligent, fascinating Spock –was hurting this bad. Spock takes a deep breath in.
“I,” Spock has never sounded less like himself, and he’s never sounded more like Sarek, “appreciate your concern, Captain. As I stated before, I am perfectly capable of controlling my own emotions and well being. Though it is my duty to ensure that you are fit to serve, as Dr. McCoy pointed out in our last conversation, he is the only one capable of truly determining whether I, myself, am fit. As my last physical proves, there is nothing wrong with me. However, I do thank you Captain, as apparently my… attachment to StarFleet regulations has become zealous. I will meditate on the issue, and endeavor to do better in the future.”
“Spock-” Jim says, very blatantly crying, “Spock please just-”
Spock rises from his chair, and clasps his hands behind his back. Jim watches the gesture with a type of horrified amusement; Spock picked up the trait from his mother, and uses it to prevent fidgeting, Spock’s greatest embarrassment.
“If there is nothing else Captain, I have other duties to attend to.” A clear dismissal.
Jim sniffles loudly, and gives Spock a watery smile. He nods, and forces a laugh. If Spock insists everything is normal, then Jim can pretend alongside him.
“Of course, Sp-Officer,” Jim tries to use his Captain Voice, but knows he failed miserably, “you are dismissed.”
Spock rushes from the room, at a dignified pace for a human, but a rapid pace for a Vulcan. As soon as the room is empty, Jim buries his face into his hands, and lets himself have a good long sob.
How could he have let this happen? Whatever it was, it was clearly his fault. Whatever trust he and Spock had was dwindled down, if there was any trust left. In Jim’s blind panic, his intense fear that Spock would find out all his horrible horrible thoughts and leave him, Jim had pushed Spock away anyways. What did he do?
And then, Jim is hit with a sudden, terrifying, painfully clear thought; Spock knows. Spock knows all of Jim’s thoughts, and he knows about his condition. Jim looks back at all the interactions he’s had with Spock, and notices a pattern. Every single time he had a breakdown that Spock saw, there was that shutter. Then, there was an escalation of Spock’s behavior.
“No,” Jim cried, horrified, “no, no, no. ”
Spock must have heard that first conversation between Bones and Jim. That must have been why his face was so shuddered; he didn’t want to show his disgust. Spock acted just as Jim thought he would. Jim had retained his respect as a Captain and co-worker, but lost him as a friend.
His avoidance of Bones and Uhura began to take shape. Of course he wouldn’t want to be around Bones! Bones was Jim’s number one, his confidant, his rock. And Spock must have thought that Bones was shirking his duties. Jim’s mental illness was obvious! How irresponsible Bones must seem! Spock must think that Bones was aiding Jim in all his terrible behavior.
Uhura’s recent friendship with him must have been such a betrayal. Jim was dangerous, clearly, and now one of Spock’s closest friends was closer to Jim than to Spock. She didn’t even like him before now! The initial tear must have been because Spock didn’t want her to know. Didn’t want her to report him, before he could do it himself with all the evidence. And now she’s forgiven him! They’re friends now!
Spock is probably on his way to report Jim. He’s going to request a ship transfer, and then he’s going to leave Jim forever, and Jim will never get a chance to-to-
Oh. Oh no. Tragedies to end all tragedies, Jim bemoans, I’m in love with him .
And what a time to realize that these warm, butterflying feelings in his sternum isn’t just a crush. Right when Spock was done, when he was leaving, when he was disgusted. Jim could never tell him, not now, not ever. He can’t imagine it would go over well. Hey Spock, I know I’ve thought about hurting you and, oh, everyone we know, and that I’ve been terrified this whole time someone would finally realize it so I’ve been tricking everyone into thinking I’m a good person, but I’m sort of in love with you, so let’s make-out . Jim snorted. He’s sure Spock would love that. Curse him, and his lovably awful bangs, and his stupid deep voice, and his baby brown eyes. Jim cries harder.
Dr. Marcus, very early in their meetings together, explained how OCD obsessions worked. They were very careful to emphasize the fact that obsessions were just a product of a hyper-vigilant brain.
“Just because you’re scared of something,” Dr. Marcus explained after Jim told them about his thoughts about hurting people, “doesn’t mean it will happen. They’re just firing synapses, not prophecies. But your brain doesn’t know that, so you have to instead. It’s your job to acknowledge that there is no threat, by making your fear less scary.”
And then they taught him how to do exposure therapy, how to ask ‘so what?’ In the face of his fears. But they never told Jim what to do when his intrusive thoughts did happen. What does one do, when they can’t say ‘so what’? When the nail-biting, world ending thing happens? How does someone move on from that?
Jim, in a move that exemplifies their whole relationship, calls Bones, blubbering and sobbing.
“This better be good,” Bones says as soon as the personal comm line connects, “because I’ve got about a thousand years of paperwork, and-“
Jim lets out a very heartfelt and snot filled “Bones,” which changes Bones’ tune immediately.
“What happened? Jim I swear to god if you’re having another allergic reaction I’m going to put you in a bubble and never let you out.”
“He knows,” Jim sniffs, “He knows, he found out, he listened in and knows I’m a bad person, and he’s gonna leave and report me, and-and I’m in love with him, and he hates me. Bones I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what-“
“Who knows?” Bones demands, in a very ‘I have a special set of skills’ way.
“Spock. ”
“Goddamnit that little-“ Bones takes a deep breath. It sounds like he’s moving on the other end of the line, pacing the way he does when he gets agitated. “Where are you?”
“In my-in my ready room.”
“Okay.” Bones is audibly controlling his voice. The noise in the background had gotten louder, and Jim could hear voices as Bones races past.“Jim, I need you to go to your quarters, okay? I’m headed there already. You need to be in a safe, controllable environment. Can you do that?”
Jim nods, and then remembers Bones can’t see him and voices his affirmation. Then, he gets up unsteadily, and shakily makes his way to his room. When he arrives, Bones is already there, waiting inside. He opens his arms, and Jim collapses into him. He’s certain that he’s getting snot and tears all over Bones’ shirt, but Bones just tugs him in closer. He maneuvers him onto the bed, and lays them both down. Jim tangles their legs, which Bones hates, but says nothing about.
“Alright, honey,” Bones brushes Jim’s bangs off his forehead, “how ‘bout you tell me what happened?”
Jim did, shakily at first, but steadier as he soldiered on. All the while, Bones rubbed his back, saying nothing.
“-and,” Jim’s breath hitched, threatening to break down all over again, “and I’m in love with him. Bones, I love him so much.”
Bones says nothing for a long while. “What a shit time to realize.”
Jim snorted despite himself. “That’s what I thought too.”
Bones continued to rub his back. “I’m serious. You shoulda’ done this sooner. Saved everyone a lotta’ trouble.”
“Bones,” Jim whines, pushing him gently in reprimand, “you can’t make fun of me. I’m heartbroken. Look at me.” Jim sniffles, dramatically.
“Dammit Jim!” Bones teased softly, “I had money riding on this!”
Jim nuzzled further under Bones’ chin, laughing softly before hiccuping.
“What do I do?” Jim feels his eyes tear up again. “I love him. What do I do?”
“I don’t know, kiddo.” Bones said in response. “This is a real pickle of a situation.”
They lay there, peaceful. Jim occasionally lets out a hiccup. Bones continues to rub his back, whispering nothings to try and make Jim laugh, which works some of the time. Jim is so grateful to have Bones. Bones who is strong, and steady, and always there, from the very first hangover shuttle trip, to the hangover shuttle trip they took last week after getting wine drunk on alien drugs.
“Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with you?” Jim curls in further into Bones. It really is unfair, isn’t it? Bones is optimal husband material, molded by a previous life of fucking it up spectacularly. Jim sometimes doesn’t know if he should be cursing Bones’ ex-wife, or thanking her for giving him up, giving him to Jim.
They could have done it, too. They would have made it work, and they would have taken the world by storm. Jim can break Bones out, make him shine like no one else ever could, and Bones can always bring Jim back home. The years have shaped Jim into fitting right here, against Bones’ sternum. Sometimes Jim looks at Bones, and he thinks if only… if only…
Bones heaves a sigh, thinking before speaking for once.
“Because,” Bones says softly, after a long stretch, “that would be weird. But I love you anyway.”
And he’s right. They’ve been together for too long, and even the idea of planting a wet one on Bones gives him the jeebies. But in his heartbreak, Jim still longs for something he doesn’t feel, and knows he never will.
“I love you too.”
“Besides,” Bones continues, much less softly, “I don’t have kitchen scissor bangs. It would never work, because I would never stoop that low.”
“I’ll cut them for you,” Jim smiles, “you’ll never see it coming.”
“If you do that, I’ll kill you.” Bones says, deadpan. “And I still wouldn’t be able to pull of that patented Spock look. Neither of us can do eyeliner like that bastard.”
“His dad can do it too. And his grandmother, come to think of it. Do you think it’s a Vulcan thing? Like in school they learn quantum physics, Bitching 101, and Intro to Killing A Man with Eyeliner.”
“Oh for sure. It’s a trade secret, alongside every other fucking thing about Vulcans. If it weren’t for Dr. M’benga being married to a Vulcan, I’m pretty sure that Spock would have killed the entire medical staff for knowing things about his body.”
“Carnally?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Can you stay tonight?” Jim unburies himself from Bones’ shoulder. “I promise to not to drool on you.”
“Of course, honey. I’ll stay.” Bones says, detaching himself from Jim. “And you are absolutely going to drool on me.”
Bones gets himself up from bed, and heads over to Jim’s closet. He touches the panel, and it slides open to reveal the rack of clothing he keeps for when he stays over. Jim has one of his own in Bones’ room, and (he thinks) Bones’ office as well (he’s in there half asleep often enough).
Jim follows him over to the cabinet, unwilling to fully leave Bones’ side. Jim pulls his shirt off as Bones shucks his pants. Jim prefers sleeping in his boxers, but Bones, ever the fussy fucker, needs his own set of matching pajamas, like the old man he is. He pulls his pajama bottoms on, because instead of getting fully naked and then dressing, he does each article of clothing one at a time. (Jim, a year ago, had gotten Bones a silk nightcap for his birthday. Bones was not pleased with that, but he did wear it to sleep when he was alone. He didn’t know that Jim knew that he wore it. Jim has so many pictures!) Jim leans on the wall, lying in wait, so that when Bones takes his shirt off, he can press his perpetually cold hands onto his torso. It’s one of the things that drives Bones up the wall, but, for some reason, he never sees it coming, even though Jim does it all the time. It gives Jim infinite joy, something he could really use in the face of being rejected by a man with a sideburn bangs combo.
Bones takes his shirt off, and Jim shoves his icy hands onto his torso. Bones curses are cut off by the sudden opening of the door. Both of them freeze, with Jim in his underwear holding his hands on Bones’ bare stomach.
Even though there are security measures in place to protect private living quarters from anyone, Jim often thinks he just shouldn’t bother. Somehow, even though he’s the Captain, enough people know how to enter–and actually enter–his living quarters that he may as well have a lock. Some of the people who are able to enter make sense, because he gave them security access. Some do not, and have access anyways. The second list is growing with frightening speed, as somehow both Uhura and Sulu seem to know how to get into his room. Jim thought about doing something about it, before remembering Sulu has regular access and practice wielding sharp objects, and that Uhura could kill him with her words. (Though, ever since they became friends, he’s noticed that she’s, apparently, stopped pulling her punches, so he gets murdered via Klingon slam poetry anyways.)
The person standing in the doorframe is part of the first group, and, much to Jim’s evergrowing horror, is one of the people who needs access to Jim’s room. Spock is silhouetted by the light in the hallways (why are the lights so bright ?) looking like he had rushed here. Surprising Jim, and, by the tensing of Bones’ torso, Bones too, was his face. Not only was Spock’s face frantic by Vulcan standards, Spock’s face was frantic by human standards.
“Jim, there is something I wish to-” Spock is saying as he Vulcan hustles in. And then he stops, as he takes in the scene before him. His big brown eyes flicker from Jim’s hands, to his underwear, to Bones’ face. Spock adjusts his posture, which was leaning slightly forwards, as though he crashed through the door. He tucks his hands behind his back, but Jim had seen him curl his hands into fists. Bones and Jim have the same thought at the same time, and they lurch away from each other.
“It wasn’t-” Jim starts, as Bones add in over top, “Look here-”
But Spock cuts them both off. When Spock speaks, there is no warmth, but neither is there nothing. Instead, there is a cold fury, as though Spock is withholding a great deal of physical violence.
“Captain, I wish to let you know you are a hypocrite.” Spock spits. He actually spits; Jim doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much emotion from the guy. “You spoke to have faith in our trust, in our companionship, as though I had none. That is not true. Captain you must know I thought very highly of you and your capabilities. Indeed, at one point I would have even called you friend.”
“Hang on,” Bones, in full bulldog mode, takes a step forward, but Spock continues as though he hadn’t spoken.
“Trust is not something Vulcans take lightly. Whom we trust, and why, is as important to us as our familial ties. Captain, it was not I who did not trust you, but you who did not trust me. You have apparently not deemed me important enough to confide in me as I had you. I gave you–”Spock takes in a deep and heavy breath–”every opportunity. I showed more affection than a Vulcan should. And yet, it was not enough; you still betrayed that trust. And it is for this reason I must tell you that our relationship has changed. I cannot ignore this slight as I have been. I will complete these final years alongside you, as your First Officer, but I will be seeking other forms of employment elsewhere upon the completion of our current mission.”
Bones stood completely still. Jim stood completely still. He’s sure if he looked outside, the entire universe would be standing completely still.
Spock looks over to Bones, as though he hadn’t noticed him when he entered, as though he was only deigning to now.
“Leonard.” He says, nostrils flaring. Then he turns on his heel, and he leaves. Jim only notices that he’s wearing his robes after they swirl dramatically in his wake.
“What the fuck?” Bones asks, summing it all up nicely. He jolts towards the door, as though to follow Spock, then jolts back and looks to Jim. Jim feels his knees and lips wobbling.
“Bones,” Bones rushes over to him, wrapping him into his arms again.
“That was fucked up.” Bones agrees, and settles them onto the bed. They don’t talk about anything. Jim doesn’t know what to say, and Bones doesn’t need to pry anything out of him. Jim falls into a fitful sleep, with a threat in his ear that he take the next day off.