Relationship: James T. Kirk/Spock, Spock/Nyota Uhura (past)
Tags: AOS, Romance, 5 + 1 Things, Character Study, So many emotions
A/N: Oh Lord, this came out of nowhere. I haven't written Trek in ages.
Hope I didn't mess it up.
On another note, this is dedicated as a very late Christmas present to my friend and soul sister EclecticRegard. I had another piece planned, but it is refusing to be written beyond the initial two pages of my first inspirational strike for that story's premise. As such, I started over with something entirely different (different fandom, different pairing; different everything, basically). This is the result (with stiff, cold fingers to show for it because damn I do not have sufficient heating for the winter in this apartment).
Anyway, please excuse any typos/grammatical errors as English is not my first language (and Spock is a bitch to write but I love him).
Enjoy!
o-oOo-o
1. Heroes
He is four and still young enough to sit in his mother's lap, still young enough to be excused that he doesn't know any better. He knows his mother is Human, he knows his father is Vulcan, and he knows he is both though he doesn't yet understand all that it entails. While his mother speaks of 'the best of both worlds', his father comments on the precise, scientific process of the genetic engineering which had allowed for the two species to conceive an offspring.
At four, for reasons Spock will forget in time – whether by choice or denial – he prefers his mother's answers when he gets curious of the nature of his parents differences, where he fits in the middle of it. Though she directs him to his father when he asks about the color of the sky or the funny noises his PADD makes when he can't get it to work, she pulls him in and satisfies his curiosity herself when he comes to her wondering why Human is a dirty word and why it hurts when he's sustained no physical injury.
She'll tell him it is prejudice and pettiness, racism and superiority complexes, heroes versus villains in an uphill battle for justice in a world where the very emotions that are being condemned are the emotions doing the condemning. He doesn't fully grasp what she is saying, at four he's still excused, but the notion of an 'us' versus a 'them' stuck with him even then. He will, not for the last time, think 'mother and I': she is Human and he is her son. They are the heroes in this story.
Spock is four and very proud to be Half-Human.
o-oOo-o
2. Taking a Stand
Starfleet is a last-minute decision that has, perhaps, been waiting to be made for an indeterminable amount of time. A lifetime of being shunned for a biological fact he has no control over seems to finally culminate in this.
Indeed, the scales are tipped to Starfleet's favor the moment he realizes he was about to be stuck in this stale narrative for most of his remaining life span.
It is a familiar tale by now, and he had almost forgotten it had he not been reminded of the hypocrisy that has been the villain in the story for so long. They speak as if he should be ashamed of his own mother, as if he should condemn a whole species and forget the very philosophy these Vulcans have preached and founded their society on. He is ashamed, then, for he has discarded his mother's heritage in favor of his father's (he had had to choose, his lip bloodied and control shattered), to prove his worth to a people who will never see him as anything but Half of something no matter what he does. To hold himself to these outdated, ridiculous standards seem in this moment like an exercise of utter idiocy.
They say he should not be rash or impulsive, that every thought should be precise and stripped of emotion, that he should not be Human. He does not want to be either, he cannot be, but he is still his mother's son. In this moment, he makes his decision.
Here he can never be anything but an exception (logical for a Half-Human, emotionally unstable for a Half-Vulcan) rather than Spock ('the best of two worlds, my son'). Starfleet will be different.
He'll live long, and he'll most certainly prosper.
o-oOo-o
3. Student
Tea, he finds, is quite overrated. He won't share this opinion, because it is a foolish and self-indulgent one. But after his rather pleasant introduction to coffee, Spock is willing to indulge.
He indulges a lot.
Although it is not yet possible to accurately identify the precise percentage of the genetic heritage of his Vulcan make-up, he estimates it to be over 80%. While dissatisfactory in its imprecision, and highly questionable from a scientific standpoint, it is relevant to his more immediate interests. Such as being, in comparison, more durable than most of his fellow students when one considers the fragile balance of the sleep the body needs, versus the given amount of hours dedicated to their studies during a Earth day. Having had his educational program designed to a track best suited for his intellectual aptitude, even Spock finds himself struggling to adapt properly to the life of a student at the Academy. He had not yet been faced with a situation where what you need does not always equal with what you must endure, before he experienced his first finals at the Academy. Education on Vulcan had been highly intellectually challenging, yet paced entirely different, with less diversity than he has found here. Ironic, he thinks you would call that (IDIC is a philosophy Spock finds himself wishing was practiced more than he has found it to be in reality thus far).
In conclusion, it could be argued that although he is less susceptible to exhaustion than most of his peers, because of a track paced for him specifically, he is being subjected to the same type of obstacles in proportion to his abilities. Thus, he is just as likely to concede defeat in the face of academic expectations as his peers.
He comes to this conclusion after he wakes up in the library with no memory of having closed his eyes, which is unnerving for a being that otherwise has full cognitive awareness of most biological functions. There is a cup of a steaming beverage greeting him next to his PADD with a message and a number. He learns three things; 1) the beverage is coffee, 2) coffee allows him to fight exhaustion in brief but effective ways, 3) Human dating is a terrifying business but ultimately rewarding.
Nyota remains the only being who knows how to get his coffee right for a long while.
(The secret is the programming code for the replicator. Jim hacks the one in his quarters on the Enterprise as a birthday present one year. It is a surprisingly gratifying occasion).
o-oOo-o
4. Home
It is entirely dissatisfying to be faced with your own choices and their consequences and find them wanting.
He is not four anymore. He has no mother, there is no Vulcan Science Academy (sucked into the black hole together with his home planet, his mother, his people). He has never felt more adrift in his own emotions, in the suffering of a telepathic people now classed as an endangered species. He has never felt as torn between his two halves as he does after Nero.
He regrets, for a while, the choices he made which got him to the point where he watches the earth crumble beneath his mother's feet. He thinks, briefly, of the beat of a butterfly's wings and cannot see anyone to blame but himself (a perfect mirror of his counterpart, where otherwise there are so many cracks which do not add up).
It takes several events accumulating to an unstable and violent climax for him to find his footing on the shaky ground which has become his shattered world. He is a hero in a story again, but he is not four and instead of standing by his mother he stands for her, with a crew of (utterly unlikely, brilliant) Humans by his side. He does not feel like a hero, and he staggers under the grief of his lost Vulcan heritage warring with the relief of his Human that there is something left. His father, the survivors, Earth.
In the end, there is also the Enterprise and as doubts and self-blame and anger mellows to a lingering grief, he looks back at that last-minute decision on Vulcan which took him to Earth and he is glad he allowed it to happen again, at Starfleet.
It takes him to space and, quite possibly, home.
o-oOo-o
5. Love
Falling in love is a confusing and terrifying occurrence, and not one Spock would endorse to the many unsuspecting fools searching for it. One seems to be woefully ill-equipped to 'deal with it' no matter how thoroughly one may attempt to rectify this fact through research and meditation (and, as seemed logical at the time, through 'seeking advice' from the people closest to the subject at hand: the romantic interest. It is a most uncomfortable enterprise he is not eager to undergo again. Doctor McCoy seems, for once, to agree with him with his usual flair for colorful and superfluous language).
He knows, intellectually, that falling in love is a different experience for each being (a highly subjective event), and thus statistically unlikely to be considered unpleasant by all (indeed, it had not been his experience previous to this). This does not change the fact that he is extremely discomfited to realize a being he has previously harbored strong dislike towards (not hate; he knows hate now, all too well) has somehow not only become a friend (treasured, rare), but also someone who is apparently vital to his emotional well-being, if not stability (he feels so strongly, it startles him). Few things have previously shaken his control in the way Jim Kirk so effortlessly did from the very beginning, and that is very frightening indeed.
It is, of course, a journey filled with peril and crossroads to navigate, before he comes to this revelation (standing on an alien world shoulder to shoulder, sharing a moment to marvel at the beauty to be found in this Universe; hands red and sticky from keeping innards in place as the communicator beeps uselessly at his side, trying to keep his Captain alive thought sheer force of will; sparkling blue eyes across a chessboard as his queen is captured and his king subdued against logic's all rules).
He recognizes that he has loved Nyota, that he loves her still (sister, friend). Although, as he has become more adept at not only understanding his own emotions, but to properly process them as well, he has come to know love is a many flavored thing (a turn of phrase his mother would have used, he is sure, and one Jim would enjoy, he thinks). While being in love (one particular flavor he has recently come to appreciate) with Nyota had been serene and comfortable, he finds that – as always, with his human Captain and friend – Jim Kirk defies any expectations (and usually exceeds them, it should be noted).
Being in love with Jim Kirk is a singularly passionate, bright and generally disruptive (to his control, to the laws of the Universe, to life as he had thought he knew it) experience. He finds himself recognizing his mother in himself in ways he had never expected in this, perhaps illogically predisposed to assume he would sympathize with his father in this endeavor to love a Human. But Spock remembers (with a bittersweet pang of grief an love that persists still) his mother's wry smile as his father tested her patience (drove her mad, out of her mind, crazy; all concepts he is only now grasping, and he wishes so strongly he could share this with her, share the sheer excitement he feels on this adventure that is experiencing Jim in any way, shape or form). Though there are no similarities between his father and Jim (for which he is very grateful), he thinks he loves as his mother; in contradictions and flavors. He condemns Starfleet for putting his Captain in the line of fire (illogical, since no one puts Jim Kirk where he does not want to be) while he rages at him for jumping feet first (entirely literal, in some cases) into danger, even as his love flares brighter for the bravery and compassion which compels Jim to be that kind of Captain. He finds himself charmed by minute occurrences, such as a pillow mark on the cheek when Jim answers the door, or the indignant splutter he produces when outmaneuvered by (devious, and often 'bullshitted') logic. In this, he is surprisingly Human.
He thinks his mother would approve, and not only of this recent attempt to embrace his emotions (with varying success). It would be hard to disapprove of Jim Kirk, though Spock recognizes that he is biased in this instance, yet he does not believe himself to be wrong. It feels wholly suitable (easy, a relief, a matter of pride) to inform Jim of this, as he rests his forehead against his and catches his breath from a bout of delighted, warm laughter (they are alive, Spock leveled the natives standing between him and his captured Captain, they are moments from being beamed up back to the Enterprise).
"My mother would approve of you," he says, with no arguments to back up his decision to impart this speculation (information: it is certain, though illogical to assume he is right) here of all places, at this particular time. He feels Jim's confusion through their contact, skin against skin, a psi-null mind against his lowered shields (startled and humbled, but happy; hopeful).
"Mine wants to meet you," Jim blurts out in response, even as their particles glows with the beam of the transporter. They are on the transporter pad of their ship moments later; Jim's cheeks flushed a darker red than that of his previous mirth. Spock blinks.
"I have come to understand that 'meeting the parents' is an important step in a romantic relationship among Humans," he states, fighting the surprisingly strong urge to smile at Jim's wide-eyed stare. There is a smudge of blood under his nose, his blond hair is dirty and stand on end as is its wont, and the golden command shirt is ripped in places to further indicate his Captain's unwillingness to concede without a fight. Spock is logically gratified for this particular penchant of Jim's character. "I accept, Captain. It would, as they say, be an honor."
Falling in love might be confusing and terrifying, but loving Jim is an entirely rewarding (and, perhaps, Human) affair.
o-oOo-o
+1. Spock
It had been a disaster.
Their table had been double-booked, a deranged former Starfleet officer had attempted to do a 'drive-by shooting', and somewhere in the confusion Spock had displaced the ring in a frantic attempt to keep his danger-prone Captain and lover out of harm's way. He had blurted out the question at the local law enforcement facility, where they had been required through procedure and duty (the latter Jim's word, and spoken with grim determination) after discerning neither needed medical assistance. Spock is obviously not equipped to navigate the most important step in the romantic relationship of both Vulcans and Humans. He has failed both his heritages.
He attempts to convey this, with the sincere regret he feels and a promise to do better in hopes for the answer to be yes as he had calculated it would most probably be previous to this evening's conclusion. Following his appalling stutter of words, which he does not recall with any clarity despite having spoken them just moments before, Spock fidgets under Jim's startled observation. He finds himself struggling to control the dread and nervousness he is currently experiencing. He thinks he managed to convey his regret at not performing this custom with the adequacy of either of his species, though he has perhaps placed an emphasis on the Human tradition through a desire to honor both his lover and himself (he thinks; he does not fully remember his rationalization at this point in time. This whole incident might be steeped with more meaning than simply having failed at a Human ritual of a romantic nature).
Jim looks at him, silently, before speaking up with a quiet, if intense, calm. As always, he is innately perceptive to where 'the heart of the matter' lies, so to speak. Spock is helplessly grateful for this particular quality at this time. "Why should that matter? You don't need to hold yourself to Vulcan 'standards', so why should you hold yourself to Human ones? You're an individual, Spock, not a textbook example of a race; neither a Vulcan nor a Human. You're simply Spock, and that's one of the most amazing things you could be."
He is experiencing a shortness of breath, an elevated pulse and intense, compromising emotions of awe, gratitude and love at this moment and finds himself unable to speak.
"For the record," Jim continues, breaking out into a wide-blinding grin that has Spock taking a step closer to his warmth out of pure instinct (easier to grab a hold of this treasured creature; pure logic to be near such a source of fascination; full understanding that he is about to be kissed senseless from a careful study of previous instances where Jim has looked at him in this particular way, thus making it relevant to further the facilitation of such an act of romantic expression due to its high level of desirability).
"For the record," Jim repeats, mirroring Spock and taking a step closer still (much approved). "I would very much like to bond with, and marry you, T'hy'la."
In this moment, Spock finds himself forgetting to be anything but glad to be himself if that is someone who gets to have this being in his life. He does not feel particularly Human, or Vulcan, as he swoops down to capture Jim's lips and fingers in reverent kisses. Indeed, in this instance, it hardly matters.
What he is though, is – if you pardon his language (to be honest, he does not care, but his mother raised him to be polite) – fucking ecstatic.
o-oOo-o
A/N: I think I vomited a bit in my mouth at the cliche of the ending. Urgh.
You're welcome.