Authors note: First off, thank you for clicking on my fanfic :) I hope it's not too late to be posting a Star Trek 2009 take- I just can't help but love the Kirk/Spock dynamic and decided it was time for me to write about it. Now bear with me; my timeline in this one got a bit funky. I probably got some details wrong and all that, but it's supposed to take place right after Star Trek Into Darkness, before Star Trek Beyond (obviously). Um... but it's a fanfic, so let's not worry about it. The important thing is that it has Kirk/Spock tension ;) Enjoy!
KIRK
It's roughly my third day back aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise since our departure from StarFleet Base.
Only a few days more since I died. Since… well, it's best not to think about it. I've actually done relatively well keeping the embarrassing interaction off my mind, despite how badly I want to analyze it.
I'm making my way to the Bridge for our official third day of... nothing too exciting. Well, traveling through space is exciting, but nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet, like it usually does.
Just a regular spaceship making its way around. I like that, too. It's still space—I'm still captain.
As I walk towards the Bridge, Spock comes around a corner and falls into step beside me, our destination the same.
Suddenly I'm tense. My shoulders tighten, my jaw clenches, my absentminded smile slowly fades until I'm in a professional stance. I keep my eyes glued ahead of me, trying to make sure I give nothing away.
"Morning, Spock," I say in greeting, thankfully sounding relatively natural. I doubt Spock has noticed anything.
"Good morning, Captain," he replies. I sneak a glance at him, seeing that he is also staring straight ahead. Nothing there—nothing to gather from his eyes, his posture, his anything.
A sculpture deprived of emotion. A beautiful piece of art.
It's hard not to think of Spock this way: made of stone, no feeling inside his cold and elegant exterior. I know it's just because of his Vulcan heritage that it appears this way. He totally (probably) feels lots of things? Also, his pointed ears and his pointed eyebrows. His glossy black hair.
But sometimes it's just so easy to spot the human in him. Like when Uhura told me…
Again, I shouldn't think of it.
We arrive at the Bridge, and Spock immediately veers away from me to take his position. I ignore the aching regret that hollows my chest as I watch his back. The rest of the crew is already in place.
I sit down in my captain's seat, looking out through the wide glass window at the stars. The familiar spark of exhilaration shoots through my spine at the sight. Today is another day of exploration—anything could happen.
The not knowing, the anticipation, the feel of this seat underneath me—it's all part of the experience, and I'm here for every bit of it. This is what I live for.
I wait for the Bridge to settle down and get comfortable before giving any commands. It's silent for a moment.
"Sulu," I say. Though he's facing away from me, he nods his head. "Punch it."
We jump forward, the familiar motion still jolting me slightly in my seat.
Today, we're going the farthest we've traveled yet, to some distant planet that I can't quite pronounce the name of. In my defense, it's a very long name.
Because I'm so distracted, the trip feels shorter than I know it Bridge is filled with talk as the crew keeps up a steady ramble of passing around orders and double checking that our position and the warp-drive are steady.
At the thought of the warp-drive, my mind accidentally wanders. It's absolutely unintentional, but I can't help it. The feeling of death is something that haunts you.
It's still hard to believe I was resurrected. And all because of Spock. Without a doubt, I would still be gone if it wasn't for him.
And that thought… leads me to another. The one I've been trying to avoid. I finally give in to temptation and let myself ponder.
(Five days ago)
"Jim," Uhura says, approaching me from behind. The funeral for our fallen StarFleet crewmates had just ended, and all its attendees are heading back to their corridors.
"Lieutenant Uhura," I welcome carefully, swallowing back the sting of jealousy.
"We need to talk," she says grimly. "Come with me."
Surprised, I immediately follow behind her as she leads me to the cafeteria. She seems rather upset, and I can't deny my curiosity. I only hope nothing bad has happened.
We sit across from each other at a table, though neither of us have any food.
"What is it?" I ask as soon as she's positioned. We make grim eye contact.
"It's about Spock," she says. I shift in my seat, nervous that she might know something.
"What about him?" I inquire.
"There's something you should know," she tells me, looking away as she shakes her head. She sighs heavily. "He told you he saved your life, yes?"
"Yes," I confirm, confused. What is this about?
"Did he tell you how he saved your life?" she presses, looking weary. I think back. Now that she mentions it, I realize no one had ever gone into much detail. I was too touched that he had even done anything, I didn't bother to ask how.
"No, I guess he didn't. I only know he somehow obtained Kahn's regenerative blood," I say.
"Right, well. It was a sight to behold." she gives a wry smile. "He completely lost control after you… you know."
"Lost control?" I ask, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Spock was angry. He demanded to be beamed down after Kahn, and he was going to kill him. I had never seen him so upset before in my life. He seemed almost more out of control than when his planet was destroyed."
Uhura swallows at the painful memory, but continues as I stare at her, shell-shocked. I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"He only stopped when I told him Kahn could save your life. You wouldn't believe how quickly he got Kahn's blood to you—he was desperate."
"Why are you telling me all this?" I ask suspiciously. "What has it got to do with anything?"
I don't want to hear about your boyfriend, I think angrily.
"Isn't it obvious?" she mumbles sadly. "He's in love with you."
We stare at each other, tension thick in the air. It lasts for a pause that feels like eternity.
"You're crazy," I whisper. I can't get my hopes up. How dare she? Hope can be dangerous in some circumstances—circumstances like this.
"And you love him, too," Uhura presses, pretending she hasn't heard me. "There's no point in me staying in the picture. You two can't stay away from each other."
"Uhura," I say with an incredulous laugh. "Do you even hear yourself? He's in love with you!"
She shakes her head again with a wistful chuckle.
"Jim," she says slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "Has Spock ever even gotten slightly emotional over me? Maybe he liked me—maybe even loved me a little. But not in the lasting sense. It was never going to be a forever kind of love—I can see that now."
"I can't believe it," I say, standing up out of the booth. "You've lost your mind," I accuse her, grabbing my hat which I had set on the table when we arrived.
As I walk away, she calls to my back:
"You know I'm right. I'm always right."
I shove my hat back on my head, trying to process it all.
(Present day)
"Captain," Sulu says, drawing me back from five days ago. "We've arrived."
"Right!" I say, accidentally overcompensating on my good mood. "I'll be going down—who's accompanying me today?"
"I'll be going, Captain," I hear Spock say. I blink once in unwilling acceptance, and heave an internal sigh.
"We'll take McCoy, too, in case of any emergency," I say, trying to give myself some relief from exploration with Spock. It's not too strange of a request, anyway—things go awry on these little missions all the time. I don't look over at Spock as I press down on the comm to alert Bones.
"McCoy," I say.
"What do you want?" Bones snaps over the commlink.
"I'm requesting you on this mission," I say, wording it so I don't embarrass myself trying to pronounce the planet name.
"Dammit, Jim!" comes his anticipated response. "I'm a doctor, not a—"
"I'm well aware," I cut him off calmly. "Now get down to the transporter room." I end the comm, and Spock and I make our way out of the Bridge to be beamed down.
"Are you alright, Captain?" Spock asks through the quiet as we walk. I glance at him and back in front of me quickly. It's dangerous for me to look at him too long.
"Perfectly fine, Spock," I lie. "Come on."
We meet McCoy at the transporter, and I'm instantly grateful to have him coming with us, despite his prickly demeanor. I don't want to be alone with Spock right now. I don't think I could handle it.
"Let's get this over with," Bones grumbles as he takes his place on the transporter platform. Spock and I find our spots next to him. I nod to the woman operating the transporter, and she nods back, beaming us down the next second.
The familiar tingling sensation sweeps across the surface of my skin, and I keep my eyes open as the transporter room fades before my eyes to be replaced with the scene of the planet's surface.
It's a barren planet, with mostly only dirt and a few strange trees spread out every now and again. It's hot, and I can see the waves of heat rising up from the ground.
"Let's get to work," I say, and the three of us start to walk, searching for any signs of life.
After about twenty minutes of walking and looking with no success, only lots of sweat and discomfort, Spock stops us.
"Captain," he says. "There does not appear to be any evidence of life forms on this planet."
"Agreed," Bones interrupts. "We should probably just get back to the ship—I have real work to be doing."
"Bones," I start to say, but I cut off with a sigh. It's not worth it to argue with him right now. "We've only just started looking. Maybe we'll find something in a little while."
I start walking, and Spock immediately follows.
"If that's what you'd like, Captain."
Bones catches up with us after a moment, grumbling something unintelligible.
"Lighten up, Bones," I order.
As Spock walks beside me, our hands accidentally brush. I feel subtle heat wash through me, but Spock pays it no attention, merely moving away to clasp his hands behind his back.
I try not to ignore the faint disappointment. Now is not the time to be thinking about any of that.
And yet, since none of us are talking, and the planet is so quiet, I'm left with nothing but my thoughts once more.
(Five days ago)
"Spock," I call out before I can lose my resolve, running up beside him. I had just spoken with Uhura at the cafeteria and came to find him as soon as I could.
"Captain," he greets.
"Just call me Jim," I insist, surprising myself. Spock's eyebrow twitches momentarily, but other than that he conveys no emotion, like usual.
"Was there something you needed?" he asks. I shrug, trying to seem as casual as possible.
"I was just coming to ask about... something that Uhura told me."
Spock shoots me a fleeting glance, but like always, his thoughts are a mystery to me.
"She told me about how you saved my life."
"Oh?" he prompts.
"It was just—thank you again, by the way—she said something else. Well, I mean… Are you two still together? She didn't actually say." I ask instead, giving up at the last second.
"I do not see how this is relevant," he disagrees. I give him a pointed look.
"Could you just tell me?"
"No, we are not 'together.'"
"Right. Okay."
"Is that all, Captain?" he asks coolly. We've come to a stop in front of the doors of his building.
"No. There's just one other thing," I manage to say.
Spock waits in silence for me to continue.
"Uhura… she said…" I shake my head and laugh, attempting nonchalance. "She said that you loved me?"
I notice that Spock subtly leans his head back at the blunt words. He doesn't answer me in any way.
"Well?" I venture on. "Is it true?"
The words accidentally come across as rather judgmental. I'm trying to keep my guard up, in case he says it's not true after all, which is what I'm expecting.
"I don't…" for once, Spock falters with his words. I've never seen him so surprised. "I don't…" he tries again.
I can guess the rest of the sentence. I shouldn't have expected anything else—it was stupid to hope even a little bit.
"Right. Good to know." I look away, turning my back. Again, the words come across harsh. "Please, forget about the whole thing, Commander."
"I—" he stumbles on his words again. "Of course, Captain."
The rejection sits heavily on my shoulders as I trudge back to my corridors, leaving Spock behind me. I feel stupid.
Who knows Spock's motives for saving me.
Like always, he's a mystery.
A mystery I'd been so hopeful I might solve.
(Present day)
As my boots crunch against the gravel of the bare surface of the planet and the heat plasters my skin with sticky sweat, I try to shake the maddening memory.
The silence continues, with Bones occasionally muttering something under his breath or sighing heavily. Spock and I both ignore him, as we ignore each other.
Spock stops suddenly, tilting his chin up to the sky.
"Captain, do you hear that?"
Bones and I both stop walking to listen. After a few seconds, I do hear something.
"Sounds like…" I trail off, listening harder. It sounds like something huge is running towards us. We can hear the footsteps reverberating through the air. A few more seconds, and the ground starts to tremble beneath our feet from the impact.
The three of us stand frozen in anticipation as the thing approaches. Once it comes into view, we're frozen for another reason.
The thing running towards us is an animal—or maybe something more along the lines of a monster.
"What is that?" I ask quietly, staring at it's huge, hideous face.
The animal has no fur or hair of any kind and no visible eyes, but a long, sleek body that resembles that of a lizard. It's color is a dull, sickly brown, and it's head is flat with spikes coming around it's head like a crown. It has nine feet that I can see, and they speed him across the ground straight towards us.
"I believe it has caught our scent," Spock comments. "The logical thing to do now is run."
"You think?" I yell, the three of us already sprinting away from the fearsome beast, Bones shouting curses as he pumps his arms to keep up.
"What is that thing?" I yell to Spock as we speed down a slight hill. The wind from our speed blows his hair back while we run.
"It's a—"
"I don't care what the hell it is!" Bones shouts. "All I need to know is if it's going to eat us or not!"
"Yes, it is an omnivore, with a diet of any living thing made of meat, as well as multiple types of plant life," Spock yells back.
The animal is gaining speed on us, our small figures no match for all of its mass and nine legs. I'm already beginning to pant from exertion partnered with the unbearable heat.
"Beam us up!" I yell into my commlink.
"You need to stop moving—we can't lock onto your position!" comes the frantic reply. Why is that always the reply?
"Not really an option right now!" I yell back.
"We need to find cover, Captain!" Spock recommends as we veer up another hill.
The thing is gaining on us fast, only a couple of feet behind us now. It won't be long until one of us is snatched up in its ginormous jaw.
"There is no cover!" I spit back, sucking in another breath. And it's true—it's all barren land, as far as the eye can see.
I don't know how much longer we can keep up this pace, especially now that we've discerned there's no immediate means of escape.
With a sudden cry, Spock's feet are snatched out from under him and he's dragged backwards, his left leg locked in the grip of the creature's jagged teeth.
I come to an abrupt halt, turning back to watch as Spock is lifted up into the air to dangle upside down from its mouth.
"Spock!" I cry. I pull out my blaster as quickly as I can, pointing it up at the creature's head and firing three direct shots.
It lets out a shriek of pain as smoke rises in the air from the small hits, and Spock falls from the great height to land on the hard-packed ground. It's like I can hear the sickening crunch from here.
I'm running back to him before I have a chance to think. I'm vaguely aware of Bones beside me as we reach him.
I roll him over as gently as I can, looking down at his closed eyes and the dirt smudging his sweaty skin. His skin is flushed faint green from the exertion of running.
"Spock," I mutter. "Can you hear me?"
Before Bones and I can get any further in the examination, the monster rears its head and lunges down at our small cluster.
Bones and I each cry out a curse, both of us pulling out our blasters and pointing them at the animal.
Before either of us can act, and before the creature can get to us, I can feel the sensation of being beamed back up to the ship.
The last thing I see is the dark interior of the beast's mouth as it closes in for the kill, before the scene shifts to the stark white walls of the transportation room.
I'm still down on my knees, cradling Spock close to my chest as he manages to gather weak breaths.
People rush into the room, taking Spock and quickly getting him down to the medical room. I let them go, staying completely still as I watch them, shocked to the core from terror.
I can only see the image of his marred and bloody leg and his chest feebly rising and falling, dirt and blood almost everywhere on him.
My feet start to carry me after him. He might be dead. And it might be my fault—if I hadn't shot the creature, he wouldn't have fallen from so high up. What if he doesn't recover?
The thought is too much for me to bear. Is this how Spock felt only last week? Probably not. I jog the rest of the way to the medical bay anyway, panic increasing my pace with every step.
I skid to a stop in front of the door, finally shaken out of my momentary stupor. I need to know Spock is okay.
Many people—Bones among them—are rushing about Spock with all sorts of different medical equipment. Spock's eyes are still closed. I push myself through the fray, unable to help it.
A firm hand on my shoulder gently pulls me away from the bedside. I'm spun around to face Bones, who gives me a grim look.
"Is he going to make it?" I demand.
"He should be fine after a little bit. Just give him space so we can do our work," he instructs me. "Go wait outside."
Bones gives me a gentle push towards the exit, and I stumble back out into the hall. There's a window that looks into the medical bay, and I stand unmoving in front of it, watching Spock as he gets cleaned up.
He'll be fine, Bones says. If Bones says it, I have to trust him on that. I just can't seem to move away from the window.
I still haven't quite caught my breath from our intense sprint. I wait for what feels like a long time until Bones and the other doctors are finished, and Spock rests under the blankets of the infirmary bed.
He looks almost peaceful now, the dirt and blood cleaned away from his skin and his injured leg hidden from sight.
I know he must be in pain, though. At the thought, I push my way back into the room, occupying the empty seat beside Spock's bed, now that it's relatively clear of doctors.
I don't say anything, but watch him with a heavy heart as he sleeps.
Only a day or so later, Spock is discharged from the medical bay, close to fully healed.
Bones had just told me over the comm, and I'm now gratefully wandering the halls, not needed in the Bridge at the moment. I hadn't really expected to run into Spock, but I'm glad when I do.
"Spock," I say with relief. "I'm glad to see you're alright." I mean it sincerely.
"And you as well, Captain," he returns. I laugh incredulously.
"I wasn't the one who's leg got practically bitten off," I counter. "There was no need to worry about me."
"And yet I was worried," he mutters, almost saying it to himself.
"What was that?" I ask, confused.
"I am always worried about you," Spock says. I look around, but it's just the two of us in the hallway. "You are reckless—it seems that everything you do might result in your death."
I don't point out the new blood in my veins would prevent that.
"You don't get to be worried about me," I say. "You're the one who doesn't seem to have any regard for your life. Back on the volcano, you were just going to let yourself die," I point out, quickly getting aggravated.
"There was no safe way to get me out of the volcano, and I hardly see how that subject is relevant," Spock disagrees.
"We can't keep doing this!" I finally exclaim, losing it.
"Doing what, Captain?" Spock asks, tilting his head ever so slightly.
"Taking turns watching each other die," I say shakily. "There's never a break. And every time I think I lose you… I always regret never saying it."
I've taken a few steps closer to him while I speak, and we're nearly nose-to-nose. My chin is tilted up a little bit, due to Spock's slight increase of height. I can smell his clean, professional scent. I can't put a name to it, but it's nice.
"Never saying what?" Spock asks, looking down at me. Unable to stand the seemingly tender moment, I take a large step back and turn away from him.
"That I love—" I break off, still too scared to say it. Why should I, after all? I already know he doesn't feel that way about me. I heard what he said. Why put myself through the extra pain?
"I love you," I say anyway, still not facing him.
I feel him suddenly grab my wrist with an iron grip, and the next thing I know, I'm being pulled against him, his lips pressing desperately against mine.
I stop thinking—it's impossible at the moment. This moment of absolute impossibility. I don't question it just yet; I savor it while it lasts, despite my distant, nagging confusion.
It's over quickly. Spock breaks away, leaving me breathless from surprise.
"What—?"
Spock has a rare green flush in his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears again.
"You said you loved me," he states. "Was that not the proper response?"
"No, no," I stutter, trying to form coherent words. "It was an amazing response. The best response actually. I just—I thought you had already said you didn't feel that way?"
Another rare thing: a look of confusion on his perfect face.
"When did I say that?" he asks, genuinely not understanding.
"When I asked…" I try to focus, but I can still feel the near memory of Spocks lips on mine. I squeeze my eyes shut. "I asked if you loved me, and you said you didn't."
"That is not what I said," he counters.
"Yes, it is," I argue. "I heard you say it."
"You left before I could finish speaking. I was going to tell you, 'I don't know what to say.'"
"What?"
"It was obvious at the time that you were repulsed by the idea of my affections for you, and I admit that they are hardly an acceptable thing for a commander to feel for his captain," he explains, the green flush not quite fading from his pale skin yet.
"Repulsed? Did I sound repulsed?" I interrogate, appalled at the idea I might have acted that way. I was too focused on Spock's demeanor at the time to think of my own.
"Are you repulsed?" Spock asks quietly. "Because I do, in fact, love you. And though you have just said the same to me—"
I cut him off with another abrupt kiss before I can think it through.
When I lean back, I can see his eyes are closed, his lips still parted. As if he had enjoyed it.
His eyes flutter open to look into mine. I give him a cheeky grin.
"I'm whatever the opposite of repulsed is," I tell him, one of my hands still gently wrapped around the back of his neck.
"Attracted?" he supplies. I tilt my head, still smiling.
"Yeah. Exactly."
The corner of Spock's own mouth tilts up into a rare, small smile, and we mutually lean into the third kiss.
It's blissful, and it makes me lightheaded. I finally have him right where I want him—a foreign feeling of absolute success.
I distantly hear footsteps rushing down the hallway, but I can't seem to make myself break apart again. Spock and I had done enough talking for the moment.
"Captain, we need…" Uhura trails off, taking in the scene. Spock quickly leans away, and I know he doesn't want to seem unprofessional. Imagine the scandal—the Vulcan commander kissing the captain.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" I ask, trying to catch my breath. Her expression changes from momentarily shocked to a knowing smirk, her eyebrows raised as if mocking us.
"We need you back on the Bridge," she says. "But I can see you're occupied at the moment. Come as soon as you can."
Uhura turns back around, walking back down the hallway and around the corner.
"I told you—I'm always right," she calls back to us, the smirk evident in her voice. I plant another quick kiss on Spock's mouth, ignoring Uhura's words with a smile of my own.
Spock has the dazed look on his face again and I have artfully messed up his usually perfect hair. I don't know if I'll ever tire of that look—that disheveled, perfect, just-for-me look.
"We should get back to the Bridge," Spock says. It almost sounds like a stutter, which is unbelievably endearing.
"Maybe we should," I agree.
But neither of us move just yet.