A modern, political AU fic. James T Kirk is elected president of the United States in 2016. On the day he is sworn in, he meets his very stoic and attractive personal bodyguard, Agent Spock, who happens to save his life at the luncheon directly after his inauguration. Meanwhile, a Republican Senate unhappy with Kirk's very liberal political views plots to impeach him.

AN: Or at least that's the plan. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. I blame insomnia for this one.

Chapter One

"Got my speech together, Nyota? James Kirk asked.

His secretary was wearing a solid red dress and holding a stack of papers in one manicured hand, which she promptly turned over to him. "Right here, Mr. Kirk," she smiled. "Or shall I say...Mr. President."

He chuckled, readjusting his tie. This one was red. He'd been wearing a purple one before, but Nyota had insisted that it would be no good, and had sent one of his assistants to fetch a new one twenty minutes prior to now. It had to be red. Something about leadership and appearance. He didn't know and didn't care-he'd leave that to Nyota.

"You made it heartfelt, right?" he asked. "Just like I told you to?"

"Oh, it's heartfelt," Nyota assured him. "Just the way you wanted it."

He smiled. "Good. Now, where's my wife?"

"She's outside already."

"How much longer?"

"Six minutes."

Six minutes. He looked up just as two men dressed in black and wearing sunglasses walked up. The first one looked to be in his mid-forties, lines etched into his face and silver tinting his brown hair. The other was tall, lean, and dark-haired with markedly large ears.

"Hello, Mr. President," the first one said. "My name is Christopher Pike. I am the head of the Secret Service." he stepped forward, sticking out his hand.

Kirk took it. "Nice to meet you, Pike."

He stepped back and introduced the other man as Agent Spock. "We want to make sure that you are protected at all times. He will serve as your personal bodyguard."

Spock did not extend his hand, just nodded. "At your service," he said.

Kirk nodded. "Good," he said, turning to Pike. "Good."

They exchanged a couple of casualties and each other's phone numbers before Pike left, leaving him, Nyota, and Spock standing there.

"Are you all ready, Mr. Kirk?" asked Nyota.

Kirk nodded. "Yeah, Nyota. All ready."

"Alright, then I can..."

"Yeah, you can leave," he said, and with that, she was gone.

Kirk looked to the agent. "What time is it?" he asked.

"11:58.16," he answered in a monotone, not even looking down for a watch. Baffled, Kirk shook his head. Secret Service Agents must have had some sort of internal clock...and an extremely accurate one at that.

"Well," he said, tugging at his tie for one final time. "Are you ready, Agent?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Affirmative," he said.

"I, James Tiberius Kirk, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter."

With his left hand still raised, he glanced over at his wife, Janice, and smiled as the crowd around him applauded. The band launched into "Hail to the Chief". He then looked around to catch a glimpse of Nyota, standing off to the side. When she saw him looking, she mouthed, 'Don't mess up.'

The secret service agent was still standing beside him, stone still and staring straight ahead. Kirk nudged him and he turned his head slowly.

"Hey," he whispered. "Would you, uh," he motioned to the pulpit in front of him, "...move that?"

He did not reply but in swiftly and quietly moving the pulpit to pace the crowd. Kirk positioned himself at it as the agent repositioned himself beside him, calmly reigning his hands behind his back. He tapped the microphone with one finger, testing it. The chatter of the crowd dimmed.

He took this moment to look out at the sea of faces on the Capitol's green. The day was bright, cloudless, the sun warming his shoulders. And, at once, was amazed at how he'd gotten here in the first place. He'd come so far from that abusive household in Iowa.

He launched into the speech in front of him, and realized yet again that Nyota was a genius.

Now remember what I said about eating, he heard Nyota's voice in his head as he sat the grand table. Thinking this, he sat up a little straighter and glanced around until he found her. She shot him a quick smile and quickly averted her gaze.

"Everyone seems to be here," he vice president, Leonard McCoy, said. "Look. There's Willis Fields over there."

"Tell me about it," he whispered back. He picked up his fork and turned it over in his palm, watching as the lights overhead cast a gleam from the silver. "Hey...is this how you hold a fork?"

Leonard shook his head and scoffed. "To hell if I know." he said. "I'm a politician, not a nutritionist."

Everyone was there. His cabinet, the house speaker, the ambassador, Willis and three other former presidents-all his close friends. The room was bright and warm, the air thick. Kirk leaned back as a steaming plate was set in front of him. Realizing that everyone else was doing so, he took his napkin and stuffed it into his lap.

Willis Fields leaned over the table. "So, how does it feel being the president of the United States?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Kirk asked the former president, cutting into the chicken on his plate. He speared it and stuck in in his mouth, chewing for a bit before taking a sip of water. This was quite possibly the driest, toughest chicken he'd ever tasted.

Fields laughed, smiling like a snake. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go right ahead," Kirk said cheerfully, jabbing his fork into the mashed potatoes. Janice looked over at him.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty six," he answered.

"Youngest damn president ever," Willis said, sounding amused. "...With all due respect sir," he added in a condescending tone.

Leonard leaned over and muttered, "He's just mad because you took his job. Pay him no mind."

Kirk just glared. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't have to.

"Yeah, well," Nyota cut in, "He's also the best damn politician I know, regardless of age." Everyone's eyes turned to her. She raised her eyebrows, and with a sassy tilt of the head, added, "...With all due respect, of course."

"You're pretty young yourself," Fields barked. "How old are you? Twenty? Twenty-five?"

Her expression darkened. "Thirty-eight," she growled.

That shut him up. He looked down to his chicken and did not look back up.

Kirk took another bite of chicken and immediately regretted it. Astonishingly, this piece was even tougher than the last. He chewed and chewed, looking over to his wife, who was chewing also. Finally, he just swallowed the damn thing.

...And was immediately choking.

"Jim!" Janice screamed when she saw that he was clutching his throat. Chairs screeched back. In an instant, a secret service agent was on him. Strong arms wrapped around him, prompting him to look up. He caught sight of a pair of big ears.

"...Ock?" he managed.

"I am certified in CPR and First Aid. Will you let me help you?"

Why even ask? Thought Kirk, but he knew that it must have been standard procedure. But Kirk couldn't breathe, much less respond. Panicked, he must have managed to nod.

And so Agent Spock did the Heimlich on him. He linked his hands together and thrust them into his stomach so hard that Kirk was almost convinced they were bags of brick. The chicken piece shot from his mouth and landed square on Fields' plate. Willis let out a sharp yelp and flew back in his chair.

With a heave, Kirk sucked in a breath, letting the sweet oxygen fill his lungs. He looked around the table. there was not a person who was not staring at him with wide eyes. Still breathing heavily, he looked up at Spock, surprised to see his eyes; before, he'd been wearing sunglasses. They were nice eyes, he decided. Brown eyes. Very...warm brown eyes, contrasting with his cold demeanor.

"You...saved my life...agent..." he said, gasping. "Thank you."

"No thanks is required, Mr. President," Spock replied hollowly. "I am only preforming my duty."

"Tough...first day...huh?" Weakly, Kirk laughed.

Spock's only reply was a raised eyebrow.

"Jim!" Janice cried from next to him. He stood up straight and turned around to face her worried blue eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said, Not liking the way his voice sounded, he cleared his throat. "Yes," he said. "I'm fine now."

Everyone at the table visibly relaxed. Leonard, who was also standing, threw out a hearty laugh and patted him on the back. "And here I was thinking that I'd have to take over office on your very first day!"

"You wouldn't be so lucky," Kirk teased, and a chuckling wave passed over the table.

Kirk sat back down. He saw Spock move to leave, but stopped him. "Agent," he said.

"Yes?"

"Can you get the kitchen staff to bring me a new plate? Without the chicken?"

Spock nodded. "I will see what I can do."

He watched as the agent walked away, noticing for the first time that Spock had a nice ass.

A nice ass indeed.