Author's Note: Usually when I sit down to write fluff, it always turns into angst, but this time, I succeeded in keeping it light. So cute it's disgusting, and I loved every minute of writing it. It took me for fucking ever to come up with a title that didn't sound stupid. Otherwise this would have been up yesterday.
As always, thanks to Bebedora. I can't tell you how awesome it is to have someone to bounce ideas off of who loves Star Trek as much as I do.
Jim Kirk hated diplomacy. Positively loathed it. If he'd wanted to spend his life trading barbs with bureaucrats, he would have applied for a desk job.
Apparently however, some washed up Admiral back at Starfleet Headquarters thought it would be funny to dispatch the Enterprise to - you guessed it – trade barbs with bureaucrats, stick him in a world full of idiots, and laugh at his reaction.
No matter where the rest of this five-year mission took him, he was pretty fucking sure he would never understand why any species found it necessary to argue over whose territory a single tree would be located on. It wasn't as if it was a magical life-giving shrub that granted wishes or had knowledge-bearing fruit, or whatever. It was just a common piece of landscaping. The problem was that this particular species was ridiculously competitive, and that single tree would have given either side one more over the other.
Apparently, they'd counted.
Oh God.
Jim slumped back in his chair on the bridge of the Enterprise, rubbing his face with his hands. He was so putting in for a shore leave. They'd all earned it. These negotiations had drawn on for two weeks and most of the members of the planet's high council proved themselves to be petty and overzealous. So much so, he had to wonder why the Federation thought they were important enough to dispatch Starfleet's flagship over.
The planet's overabundance of dilithium crystals couldn't possibly have anything to do with it.
Oops, did I say that?
Jim straightened and swallowed a sigh. At least they were finished now.
"Sulu, get us the hell out of here. Warp factor one."
"Destination, sir?"
"I don't care, just…fly."
His helmsman glanced at him over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked with amusement. "Aye, Captain."
Contrary to popular belief, Jim normally didn't like to speak so unprofessionally on the bridge. Not while issuing orders anyway, but he was too tired to give a damn, and he was reasonably sure everybody else felt the same. Even Spock's legendary patience had been tried at that damnable conference.
Jim would always marvel at the way he could call everyone sitting at the table an idiot without actually saying a single word they would find offensive. Now that was art.
He could feel the Vulcan watching him out of the corner of his eye. They hadn't been able to spend much time together these past couple of weeks.
Jim smiled in spite of his bad mood. Two of the most emotionally stunted officers in Starfleet and as luck would have it, they kind of liked each other. A lot.
The relationship was only about a month old, their feelings raw and new, and they were both adjusting to the changes as best they could. Sometimes they would spend hours doing nothing but talking, and Spock had begun to teach him some basic Vulcan words, much to Jim's delight. He missed that. He missed him.
God, he felt like an academy cadet with his first boyfriend. Jim was head over heels. They hadn't even done anything really hot and heavy as of yet and oddly enough, he was perfectly content with that. Vulcans didn't hop into the sack with just anyone, which was sort of gratifying really.
Jim would have to seriously think about it to count the number of people he'd slept with, but committed relationships he could hold up on the fingers of one hand, and Spock was far too important to lump up with his one night stands anyway.
He wanted to be with him. And for once in his life, he wasn't just talking in the physical sense.
After this shift though, he swore the only thing he had a date with was his bed, and that stash of whiskey Bones had hidden and thought he didn't know about.
Reluctantly, he busied himself with his reports, fighting to keep the words from running together as his tired eyes scanned the pages. Before he knew it, another half-hour had passed and the elevator door was sliding open. Spock's relief was taking over the science station.
Jim started to rise, but then thought better of it. He had promised himself he wouldn't do anything that might make the Vulcan uncomfortable, and public displays of affection on the bridge was probably high on the 'Don't do it, Jim,' list. He'd had his share of clingy almost-lovers in the past, and he was not going to be that person.
Besides – in hindsight, Jim realized how dismissive he'd truly been of all the women who threw themselves into his bed. It made him wince.
So when his First Officer caught his eye, he did his best to smile instead.
God, Jim. Don't fuck this up. I know this must be hard for you, buddy, but try to be a little less of an asshole, okay? Can we do that?
Damn it. I'm tired.
He's staring. Shut up and be happy.
"Get some rest, Mr. Spock. You've earned it."
The Vulcan nodded his acknowledgement. "I shall do so." He hesitated for a moment, dark eyes contemplative as he searched Jim's face. Outwardly, his expressions did not change, but something in his eyes shifted.
"Are you well, Captain?"
His first instinct was to whine in a theatrical fashion, groan out a 'No,' and fall face first onto the floor.
Jim's actual reply sounded strained, even to his own ears. "Just tired, that's all. You know how I feel about bureaucracy. I'll be glad to leave this system behind."
Normally this was the point where Spock would nod, turn heel and walk away. Therefore, when Jim turned determinedly back to his PADD to finish reading this abomination of a report, the last thing he expected to find moments later was the Vulcan standing at his right shoulder instead.
Jim craned his neck to gaze up at him –
And froze as the question died on his lips.
The middle and index fingers of Spock's right hand were extended toward him.
Jim couldn't contain his shock. From his cultural lessons at the Academy, he knew this was how a Vulcan initiated a kiss while around other people. It was the equivalent of a peck on the lips, sure, but still.
They made out all the time – the human way. Spock had even started it a few times. But this…this was different.
Our first Vulcan kiss.
In public.
On the bridge.
He didn't even care that the grin spreading across his face probably made him look like a total loser. He was too busy melting into his chair.
Spock wants to kiss me.
On the bridge.
For a second, he could do nothing but stare dumbly up at the Vulcan, who waited patiently, hand outstretched, regarding Jim with pointed affection. There was the barest hint of softening near the corners of his lips, as if he were holding back a smile.
For someone who claimed not to understand human emotion, Spock was awfully considerate of his. He always seemed to know exactly what Jim needed, whether it be a slap on the wrist or otherwise.
Stupid grin and all, Jim Kirk extended two fingers to join with Spock's, crisscrossing the tips, as a Vulcan would do. Their eyes met, and – oh my God, this was so cheesy – he swore they were the only two men in the world. He'd never understood people who said that and now he was one of them. What was happening to him?
He wasn't going to say he needed Spock. The implications of that scared the shit out of him. But maybe – what if that was exactly it? What if they just needed each other?
Is that okay?
Can I put myself at so much risk?
Well, there really was only one way to find out. Being scared had never stopped him before. It wasn't going to now.
A few of his crew members were taking notice and turning toward them. Those who understood the significance of what they saw were openly gaping. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sulu hold out his hand triumphantly to Chekov, who slapped a few credit chips into it. Later he'd probably have the good sense to be at least a little irritated that his officers apparently had a betting pool based around their Captain's love life, but right now he had a Vulcan to be in.
At. Um...
Just stop while you're ahead, Jim. Stop while you're ahead.
"Your shift ends at eighteen-hundred hours. Would you prefer to retire for the evening, or would a game of chess be agreeable?"
On second thought, he could sleep anytime.
Jim caressed the underside of Spock's palm with his fingers. "Wait up for me. It's a date."