Jim is rolling his sore shoulder in its socket after an impromptu, and unusually rough, sparring match with Spock in the gym when Uhura walks out of the turbolift he has been waiting for. She raises an eyebrow at him.
"Getting a bit rusty, Captain?" she chides jokingly.
"Yeah, not really," Jim grimaces. "What's up with Spock? He was brutal today. Totally came out of the blue."
Uhura cocks her head to the side. "Really?" she muses, stretching in preparation for her usual run, "He has seemed pretty tense lately. Did you forget his birthday?"
"What? I would never forget his birthday, come on, Uhura!" Jim holds his hands up, affronted, "Are you two fighting or something?"
"Not precisely," she admits, sounding so much like Spock it makes Jim's heart clench. Not that it's surprising. After all, she and Spock are nearing their sixth year of on-again, off-again. "But like I said, he's been on edge and he won't tell me what's wrong."
"Classic," Kirk rolls his eyes, and Uhura shakes her head in bemusement. "Well, hopefully it'll pass soon," he continues, entering the turbolift before it leaves, tipping two fingers in a mock salute at Uhura as the doors close, "A month into our renewed mission isn't exactly prime timing for a meltdown."
x x x
Showered and feeling refreshed, Jim chimes at the door connecting his and Spock's quarters. When there is no immediate response, he tugs at the hem of his black Starfleet issue undershirt self-consciously. Just as he's about to chime again, a gruff "Enter" from Spock opens the doors.
Jim enters confidently, but instead of asking about their usual dinner and chess, what comes out is, "Whew, Spock. Is it just me or is it hotter than usual in here?"
"The temperature of my quarters should be of no consequence to you," Spock retorts, suddenly much closer to Jim than before, all angry lines and glittering eyes. Jim blinks in surprise, trying not to go cross-eyed staring at the snarl tugging at Spock's lips.
"Whoa, Spock," he says, "Sorry! I was just here to ask if you wanted to get dinner and play some chess."
Spock visibly corrals himself, his sharp features settling into their usual impassive set.
"I apologize," he sighs, "I am not hungry at the moment. However, I would be amenable to a game of chess."
"Cool," Jim forces a grin, hoping his stomach won't start growling during their game. He's actually quite famished after their intense match earlier, but he wouldn't miss out on chess with Spock for the world. He follows Spock to where the chess board is still set up from the night before when Jim had managed to checkmate Spock in record time. "Still trying to deduce my methods?" he teases, sitting down and beginning to reset the pieces. Spock aids him in setting the board.
"Yes," Spock's tone is somewhat clipped, "The seemingly random nature of your stratagems is exceedingly frustrating."
"It's all part of the charm," Jim winks. Spock slams the pawn he's holding into its place on the board, and Jim does a double-take at the tension in Spock's elegant fingers. Spock actually seems frustrated. "Spock," Jim ventures, trying to catch the Vulcan's eye, "Is everything all right?"
Spock meets his eyes with steel, "Of course, captain."
"Jim," Kirk reminds him, feeling a bit like the floor has dropped out from under his heart. "Jesus, Spock. You were doing so well with the first names when we're off-duty thing."
Spock remains silent and gestures for Jim to make the first move. Jim spares a moment to study his features, taking in his pursed lips and shuttered eyes, worried.
"Uhura tells me you've been tense lately," he mutters, advancing a pawn. Spock's hand pauses, hovering over the board, and Jim prays that Uhura won't kill him for sharing that bit of information.
"I suppose I may be somewhat on edge," Spock concedes after some internal debate. He moves his knight to counter Jim's opening move. So much for a surprise six move checkmate.
"Hey, it's alright," Jim smiles at him, "We spent a long time on Yorktown waiting for the Enterprise to be rebuilt. Everyone's gunna take some time to readjust to life onboard again."
"Perhaps," Spock allows, "although if Lieutenant Sulu puts any more holos of his daughter on his console I am afraid his ability to steer this ship will be compromised."
Jim takes in Spock's raised eyebrow and relaxes at his jest. "Well, if we're going to die because of a small child, at least she's a really cute one," he laughs.
The main door to Spock's cabin chimes. "Enter," Jim calls out unthinkingly, turning to the door. Bones strides in carrying a tray of food.
"Spock," he grouses, "I noticed you haven't eaten anything in two days, so I'm bringing you food. I'm a doctor, not a waiter, damnit."
Jim turns back to Spock, both eyebrows raised. "I thought you said you weren't hungry?"
Spock's hackles shoot up as he stands from the table, his chair scraping back. "I am not hungry," he states, as though he hadn't heard Kirk, "Take your food and leave, doctor."
"Now, Spock," Bones spits, unperturbed, "Either you eat this, or I'm dragging you to sick bay. Your choice, man."
Spock storms past Jim towards Bones, fists clenched. Jim gapes at the sudden change in mood, anger radiating off the lean lines of Spock's body. The power vibrating beneath the surface of Spock's skin is nearly palpable. "I do not want your pitiful offerings!" he growls, snatching the tray from McCoy and flinging it away.
"Jesus, Spock!" Jim curses, ducking under the tray, but not quickly enough to avoid getting soup spilled all over himself. The tray bangs hollowly against the wall. Spock spins to gape at him, the beginnings of chagrin in his expression. Then Bones speaks up and his eyes turn murderous once again.
"That's it, Spock! You're coming to sickbay for an eval! Come on," he barks, grabbing Spock by the arm.
"Unhand me!" Spock demands, ripping his arm from McCoy's grasp before the doctor can even react. The three of them stare dumbly at McCoy's outstretched hand.
"Bones," Jim breathes, eyes trained warily on Spock, "I think you should go."
"Like a sinner to church, I'll go!" Bones hisses.
"I'll make sure Spock sees you in sickbay, just go."
Bones makes an aborted gesture between the two of them, then wisely shuts his mouth and goes. The effect on Spock is immediate, who drops his gaze to the floor.
"Captain, I request shore leave to return to New Vulcan," he says before Jim can even catch his breath.
"What? Spock, New Vulcan is like five days away at warp 3. How does this have anything to do with your behavior just now?" Jim glares, "That was totally uncalled for."
"I will not apologize," Spock bristles, "The doctor was trespassing in my quarters."
"The doctor," Jim grits out, "was worried about his friend. What is going on, Spock?"
"I must return to New Vulcan," Spock repeats. Jim sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"Are you sick or something?"
"New Vulcan," Spock insists, crowding Jim's space as if intimidation has ever worked on Jim. He observes the familiar pinched line of Spock's lips, reads the tension and hostility in the small creases where the corners turn down. Normally, Jim would push back, give as good as he gets. But tonight he is "Captain", not "Jim", and he knows pressing Spock will get him nowhere.
"Fine," blue eyes meet dilated brown levelly, "After we finish up observing this star, we can talk about possibly going to New Vulcan. But first you're going to go see Bones. No arguments."
Spock's mouth snaps shut and he sways backwards violently. Jim eyes him contemplatively.
"Do I need to order an escort?" he asks and can't help steadying Spock with a hand on his arm. Spock looks at it and swallows audibly.
"Negative," he rasps, "I will report to sickbay now."
x x x
"Captain, incoming transmission from Starfleet," Uhura announces.
"On screen, lieutenant," Kirk mumbles without really paying attention. Admiral Komack appears on screen, and Kirk straightens up a little in his chair. "Admiral," he nods, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Altair VI has just informed us that they will be conducting their presidential inauguration a week early," Komack informs him, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to divert there immediately."
"But admiral, we've only just begun studying the magnetic effects of this decaying cold star. By the time we even reach Altair VI, it will have collapsed and there will be nothing left to observe," Kirk argues, "We can't leave now."
"Kirk, you know as well as I do that Altair VI is strategically vital to the fleet, especially since Krall's attack on Yorktown. You will divert immediately," Komack orders strongly enough that even Sulu peers apprehensively back at Kirk over his shoulder. Jim grits his teeth, forming a fist with one hand.
"The likelihood of another event like this happening in our galaxy in the next one hundred years is practically none!" he insists, lurching forward in his chair. "There's already two other ships on the way to Altair VI now. They won't even notice if we arrive a day late."
"The political environment on Altair VI is delicate and you know it, Kirk," Komack jabs a finger at him through the screen, "Turn this ship around, that's an order. Komack out."
The screen blinks off, but Spock's hands slamming down on his console as he stands draws everyone's attention away. The lines of his body are tense, wound tight. Kirk can feel his hackles also rising, a prickling heat crawling up the back of his neck. He presses his fist against the arm of his chair, tracking Spock's angry stride to the turbolift before following in a huff.
"Orders, sir-?" Sulu's startled voice sounds distant as the turbolift doors close and neither Jim nor Spock gives a reply. Jim takes a deep breath to steady the unreasonable anger rising in his chest.
"Spock!" he has to take another breath, focusing on modulating his tone. "Spock," he tries again, "I need you to tell me what's going on."
"Negative, captain," is all Spock says, eyes boring holes into Jim's. His arms are clasped behind his back but the threat of violence rolls off him in waves, stoking Jim's own disproportionate irritation. Neither of them has ordered the turbolift anywhere and it- like the ship, like this argument- is going nowhere.
"Jesus, Spock, you heard the orders. I can't help you if you don't give me anything to work with!" Jim tears at his own hair in an attempt to redirect his energy. This is not the time or place to pick a fight but Spock is practically spoiling for one, looming dramatically over him.
"I cannot," is all Spock manages, swaying dangerously close before pulling away. He opens his mouth to order the turbolift away, and Kirk cuts him off.
"Fuck," he says, and slams his hand on the open door switch. Spock's nostrils flare and his aborted motion to yank Kirk back into the lift fails as Kirk re-enters the bridge.
"Stand down, Sulu," Jim barks, pinching his nose as the lift doors shut behind him. Sulu cautiously lowers himself back into his seat from where he had begun to switch stations. Uhura is also standing, attention flickering between Jim, her earpiece, and the turbolift.
"Okay," Jim says, reining himself in, "Okay. Sulu, you heard our orders. Take us to Altair VI. You have the conn."
x x x
"What's going on with Spock?" Jim demands without prelude, barging into Bones' office.
"Oh, good. I was just about to call you down," Bones says conversationally as Jim throws himself into a chair. "I'm sure Spock's told you by now, but we need to go to New Vulcan."
"Can't," Jim snaps, "Admiralty's ordering us to proceed to Altair VI."
"Jim, we go to New Vulcan or he dies," Bones says with an air of finality. Jim's jaw drops, then his face follows.
"Jesus," he rakes his hands over his face, "Those are really our only two options?"
"Would I joke about this?" Bones' tone borders on hysterical.
"How long does he have?" Jim asks, staring at the ceiling.
"He says a week, but based on my readings I'd give him five days at the outside."
"Shit," Jim groans, "New Vulcan is three days from here at max warp, even if we turned around immediately."
"He'll die if we don't go," Bones reminds him.
"You don't have to remind me, Bones. I know," Jim snipes, but he could never leave Spock high and dry like this. He loves him too much. "But he's worth the court martial and potential interplanetary war, right?"
"I can't do anything for the political stability of Altair VI," Bones consoles, "But I can issue a medical override, no court martial required."
"Yeah," Jim says to the ceiling, "Yeah, let's do that. Let's turn this ship around."
"Atta boy," Bones turns to his console to input the override, "Knew you'd come around."
Jim flips open his communicator and hails Uhura once he's in the turbolift, "Kirk to bridge."
"Bridge here," Uhura's replacement officer replies. Jim supposes he really shouldn't be surprised Uhura has already gone after Spock, but that doesn't mean he's not irritated at her for abandoning her post mid-shift.
"I'm ordering this ship to turn around and head for New Vulcan at maximum warp," he says, "Tell Sulu no questions, just do it."
"Sir," ensign Lo'x stutters after relaying the order to Sulu, "We're- we're already on course for New Vulcan per Commander Spock's orders."
Jim would laugh, but he's actually pissed. "Is that so, ensign?" he says darkly, "Continue current course. Have lieutenant Sulu inform me before any further changes in heading are made. Kirk out."
x x x
Uhura is just leaving Spock's quarters as Jim approaches. She is ashen, blinking back tears as she faces Kirk.
"Uhura," he says, taken aback to see her so shaken, "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she gulps, trying to center herself, "I just… Spock is… he says we have to go to New Vulcan to get married right away."
"What?" Jim bellows, then winces at Uhura's flinch. Lowering his tone, he clarifies, "How is that possibly related to any of this?"
"I- I can't say," she sniffs, "It's a private Vulcan matter, apparently. It's all just so sudden, I mean- we just went through a breakup. I love him, but I don't know- I don't-" she takes a deep breath, "It's just so sudden, is all."
He should say he's sorry, he should comfort her. But there's a burning rage spreading like wildfire through him. All he's ever wanted- and she just- she should be so lucky.
"I'm sorry," he grates out, hopes it sounds more sincere than he feels. "If you need to talk-"
"No," she cuts him off, shaking her head. "It's fine. I should get back to my post."
"Lieutenant," he says, softer than he thought he could manage, "You clearly have a lot to think about. Take the day off."
"Thanks," she says, wiping her eyes, "Jim."
He watches her go, insides a writhing mass of turmoil. His knock at Spock's door is harsher than he intends, but the glowing rage inside him is incendiary at this point. The doors open to admit him, and the wave of heat and incense feels surprisingly right. Spock is standing by the bed, eyes aglow in the dim lighting.
"Bones says you're dying, and Uhura says you proposed," Jim starts without preamble, "What the hell is going on Spock?"
"It is a private matter. Please leave."
"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on, Spock! Are you really dying?"
Spock's lips are pursed so tightly they've practically disappeared. It's a shame since his lips are so plush and kissable, Jim thinks somewhat hysterically.
"It has to do with biology," Spock finally admits after visibly warring with himself.
"What?" Jim's reply comes out strangled, "the dying thing or the getting married thing?"
"Both," Spock answers, releasing a long-suffering breath through his nose. "Have you never wondered how Vulcans choose their mates?"
Jim is really enraged now. Of course he's wondered! He's spent more time than he'd like to admit thinking about it.
"I don't know-" his laugh is half hysterical "- logically?"
"No," Spock's retort is scathing, "Biology decides for us."
"Biology? Seriously?"
Spock is silent for a moment, and Jim has the irrational urge to punch him. Or kiss him. He's not sure.
"It is a time called pon farr, when our logic is stripped from us and we become nothing more than animal slaves to our mating drives. If we do not mate, we go insane and die."
"Oh my god," Jim's hysteria bubbles out of him, "it's fuck or die. You have to fuck or die. This is insane."
Spock is in his face in an instant. "This is no laughing matter."
Jim swallows audibly, swaying slightly with the sudden lust rising up over the burning anger in his veins. He can smell the heady spicy scent of Spock and doesn't even have the place of mind to be embarrassed over his body's disproportionate reaction. Spock's nostrils flare and he knows he's been caught. The thought makes him want to moan.
He settles instead for fisting his hands so tight it hurts.
"I'm not laughing," he juts his chin out, daring, "Can't you just do it with-" me- "Uhura? Why go all the way to New Vulcan?"
Spock has backed him up against the desk, and apparently he's not unaffected by their proximity either.
"I am unable to form a bond with her," he growls, "I require you to attend me to New Vulcan to seek a mind healer."
Jim really does moan this time- he'd gladly attend Spock anywhere.
"Spock," he breathes, fisting at Spock's shirt. Something in his mind catches on Spock's wording. "Wait, why can't you bond with Uhura? Why do I have to go with you to New Vulcan, too?"
Spock makes an aborted motion to grasp Kirk closer to him and settles instead on bracing his hands on the desk, bracketing Jim. The desk scoots back several inches loudly with the force of the motion.
"I cannot bond with Nyota because it appears our minds have established a weak link, and so long as it remains I will be drawn to you and view her as a threat."
That doesn't sound like a problem to Jim.
"I can do it!" the solution is so simple it makes him almost giddy, "Let me help. We don't have to go to New Vulcan."
He writhes against Spock, throwing his head back and baring his neck. Spock groans and his grip on the desk falters. His breath rushing against Jim's neck is lightning to Jim's arousal. They've already found a stuttering rhythm grinding against each other, the desk scraping back even further.
"We cannot," Spock gasps, stopping Jim's wandering hands. The rage simmering below the haze of Jim's lust boils over. He shoves ineffectively at Spock.
"Why not?" Jim cries out.
"Nyota-," Spock chokes out, "I have promised Nyota-"
"Fuck you," he snarls, too far gone for better articulation, "I know you want to."
"I- We cannot- We must sever the bond."
In stark contrast to his words, Spock doesn't budge. He's staring intently at Jim's lips, his raging erection pressing insistently against Jim's hip. Jim lets the rage drown him.
"Fuck. You!" he yells, smashing an elbow into Spock's ribcage. Spock bellows but stumbles back. He dodges Spock's lunge at him and tumbles out the door into the blinding light of the hallway. A passing yeoman squawks and drops his armful of PADDs.
"What are you staring at, huh!?" Jim shouts, flinging his arms out in threat. The yeoman bolts without even gathering his belongings.
x x x
It's a good thing Sulu still has the conn, because Jim is no state to captain anything more than his own bed. He's barricaded himself in his quarters, lying in bed futilely fighting the maelstrom of rage and lust growing within him. He's long since realized that it's probably a mirror image of Spock's own tumult due to their bond, but he's long since lost the capacity to feel sorry for the state Spock must be in.
He's already come three times today, but his arousal is growing impossible to ignore again. He trails a hand down his stomach, dipping below the waist of his boxers.
The intership com alert sounds off. The deep space com alert has been going off for the last ten minutes too, and the combined racket is too much. Jim grunts and flops over, covering his ears with his hands and rutting into the mattress.
"Oooh," he groans. It's so good, so good… but it's not enough. He needs more.
The high pitch wails of the coms fade to the background, subsumed by his desperation. He reaches a hand back and massages his perineum through the fabric of his boxers. The rough texture ricochets through him, curling his toes and pulling ever more desperate moans from his lips.
He comes hard, fucking into the mattress like his life depends on it. Hell, maybe it does.
"McCoy to Kirk, come in Kirk," Bones' voice pipes into his quarters, perks of CMO override. "Dammit Jim, what is going on? Answer me or I'm coming in!"
"Dammit," Jim curses, the haze of lust lifted just enough to respond. He rolls over and paws at his communicator. "Bones! I'm fine, it's fine. Don't come in."
"Fine!?" Bones roars, "Like hell you're fine! You tell me now or-"
"I- It has to do with what's going on with Spock," Jim trips over the words trying to get them out fast enough. He's a sticky, feverish mess and he'd rather die than have Bones come in right now.
"What? How!" Bones sounds impossibly angrier.
"It's complicated," Jim pleads, "But it's fine. We just have to get to New Vulcan."
"Jim, the admiralty is on our asses here. Can't you just talk to them?"
"No," Jim is emphatic, "Just maintain full speed ahead."
He hangs up and tries not to cry as he waits for the next tidal wave of lust to consume him.
New Vulcan is impossibly red, or maybe Jim is just seeing red. Sunlight glints off the specs of mica in the sand, assaulting his eyes, but he refuses to look anywhere else. He feels split in half by fury and arousal. In the back of his mind, he can feel that Spock is faring no better. The desire to eliminate all present parties is palpable between them.
"Spock, you have brought outsiders to this sacred place," T'Pau admonishes, "Does thee vouch for their discretion?"
"I do," Spock grunts. She beckons them forward and they shuffle to her feet. Jim ignores the furtive glance Bones and Uhura share behind them. If he thinks about them or T'Pau's small Vulcan contingent too much he might just lose it, and he's already too humiliated by his permanent hard-on to take any more blows to the ego.
"I have been informed thee shares a bond that thou wishes broken," she states softly, "are thee certain thou desires this?"
Spock actually snarls, and Uhura's gasp in the distance is audible. He visibly shakes himself, and responds in the affirmative. Jim bites back the instinctive "no", and it comes out as a choked mewl instead, but he manages to nod. Bones' soft invective is barely noticeable over the hum of his anger.
T'Pau looks like she might be disappointed, but it's hard to tell. She reaches for both of them.
"I would have thine minds," she demands.
Her presence in Jim's mind makes his skin crawl, but then he sees it- the thin golden thread connecting his mind to Spock's. It's beautiful, and suddenly he can't bear to have it broken. He claws furiously at T'Pau's presence in his mind, can feel Spock stifling a similar instinct, but he's held helpless within his own mindscape. He can sense T'Pau grasp the gossamer connection and is buffeted by her shock. The word t'hy'la wafts across his consciousness.
A fury and covetousness surges to the fore. Spock, it's Spock, Jim realizes, feeling hope blossom in his chest. He reaches out to Spock, but is pushed away, a residue of regret coating him. A flash of dark hair and warm smile cross his mind, and he knows Spock has remembered Uhura.
The rest happens too quickly to process- Spock's steeled resolve, T'Pau's disappointment and reproach, the yawning pit of despair that opens beneath him-
Agony lances through him as T'Pau yanks the connection loose from their minds. He's screaming, writhing in the hot dust, an island alone in his head. Spock is also on all fours, dry heaving between sobs, Uhura already at his side. He reaches for her blindly, and they tumble into the glittering sand.
"It has begun, thee must leave!" T'Pau announces. She looks upset, Jim thinks. It's obvious this time. Her entourage begins ringing their bells again.
"Jesus, woman," Bones hisses from his side, warm hands already checking his pulse and feeling his head, "Give him the decency of a second to pull it together! Look at what you did!"
Jim would be embarrassed but he can't take his eyes off Spock devouring Uhura's mouth, hands locked in meld position on her temples. He's too shredded apart to do anything about the tears streaking down his face.
"Leave!" T'Pau orders, already leaving with her entourage. McCoy curses, swiping uselessly at Jim's cheeks while hailing Scotty for beam-up.
"That was quick! I woulda thou-" Scotty's quip trails off once he sees them fully materialized. Jim clings to Bones' arm, muffling his heaving sobs into his friend's uniform. Scotty stutters incoherently for a second before Bones' glare scares him off.
"Bones! Bones I-" Jim doesn't know how to articulate the desert wasteland that has been laid barren in his mind.
"Shhh, Jim, I know, I know," Bones consoles, gathering him closer and rocking them both. "I'm here. I'm here, Jim."
x x x
Someone is chiming at his door. Jim struggles out of the tangle he's made of his bedsheets, runs a hand through his greasy hair and makes a face at it.
"Enter," he calls, pulling on his discarded shirt.
"Captain-" Sulu pauses, taken aback by Jim's appearance. Jim has enough of his faculties now to feel chagrined.
"Yes?" he grunts, feeling self conscious receiving report in his boxers.
"Uh," Sulu focuses on Jim's left eyebrow, "Starfleet headquarters has dropped all charges against you after Prime Minister T'Pau informed them that we proceeded to Vulcan on her command. We've been given a further three days of leave."
"Great," Jim's voice is hoarse from disuse. He clears it. "Contact ship's quartermaster and arrange leave for everyone, including yourself. I'll stay here."
Sulu looks like he wants to argue, or ask if he's okay. Jim dredges up his best enigmatic grin. After a second of hesitation, Sulu seems to accept it.
"Aye, captain," he says and leaves. Jim heaves out a sigh and flops back into bed. Three days. Spock's going to spend three days riding out pon farr. And he's doing it with Uhura.
Jim can't help but think that maybe, just maybe- if he had gotten there first, if he had just met Spock first- it could have been him in the hot, glittering sand of New Vulcan.
x x x
"How's your head?"
Jim considers lying. Decides he doesn't have the energy for it and sighs.
"About the same," he admits, "Am I going to have a headache forever?"
"I don't know," Bones' annoyance is obvious. "Damned Vulcans are as tightlipped as an aldebaran shellmouth. I can't get anything out of them."
He hits Jim with a headache hypo.
"I've been wonderin' if a low dose antidepressant might help," Bones comments idly, "some of your neurotransmitters are readin' a little low."
"Do we have to?" Jim grimaces, rubbing at his sore neck.
"I suppose we can wait a little longer and see if it levels out on its own," Bones muses. "But tell me if your mood changes." Jim barks a laugh.
"Sure, Bones. Not sure I could feel much worse than this, but I'll let you know."
"How's that hole in your head?" Bones frowns. Jim tilts his head to consider. At first, the place where T'Pau had yanked the bond out of his head had yawned like a black hole, constantly pulling him in. Over time, it's seems to have stabilized into a deep pit, dark and silent but lacking the gravity well from before.
"Better," he decides. "I still feel a little like I'm adrift, alone in my head. But it's not so bad now."
"Damned Vulcan voodoo," Bones mutters. "At least it's gettin' better. Have you been going to your appointments with the ship counselor?"
Jim sticks his tongue out. "Yes, mom."
"Don't 'yes, mom' me. This is serious."
"I know, Bones, I know. I'm taking it seriously. But it's gunna be fine. We've already had a few successful missions since then, things are going well."
"Have you talked to Spock, yet?" Bones asks, eyes on the computer screen in front of him, giving Jim space. Jim stares at his feet.
"Yeah, I guess," Jim says, "still weird. Uhura apologized to me- that was really weird." Now that they're bonded, Uhura knows everything. He's not sure how Spock spun the story, but she seems to have decided on feeling sorry for Jim. He's not sure how to feel about it. "It's been awkward but fine."
He purposely doesn't think how "fine" has variable definitions.
"You should ask him to play chess," Bones advises. "You're growing distant. Those last two missions were milk runs, but if you two lose your touch the next real one might be deadly."
"I know," Jim agrees, forlorn. "I just need some space, still."
Bones observes him for a minute, then nods. He clasps Jim's shoulder comfortingly and squeezes.
"It'll be alright, Jim," he says, "I'm here."
Jim smiles wanly up at him, "Thanks, Bones."
x x x
They've been avoiding each other, Jim knows it. It's been several weeks since Altair VI. They're drifting apart and it shows in crew morale. Spock is eating dinner alone in the mess, so Jim steels his resolve and joins him.
"Hey," he tries to smile, clacking his tray down on the table across from Spock. Spock looks up, lips pursed in surprise. He studies Jim for a minute, slowly lowering his spoon.
"Hello," he answers unsurely. Jim cracks a real smile this time.
"Hope it's okay if I sit with you," he says. It's an olive branch; he hopes Spock takes it.
"It is always 'okay'," Spock says, not breaking eye contact. "Jim."
Jim's breath rushes out of him in relief. This is awkward, but it's fine. It has to be fine.
"How are you doing?" he asks.
"Adequately. And yourself?"
Jim waves a hand in the air dismissively. The headaches are getting better. He hasn't needed any antidepressants yet.
"Good," he lies, "I've missed you."
Spock searches his face, then drops his gaze to his plomeek.
"Jim," he whispers, "You are my-" t'hy'la wafts across Jim's memory- "friend. But Nyota is very dear to me and-"
"I know," Jim cuts him off, smiling tightly. Spock looks back up. "She was first," he says by way of explanation, and Spock simply nods in agreement. They sit silently for a few minutes, eating their food.
Eventually, Jim works up the courage and asks, "Hey, do you wanna play chess? I'm free tonight."
"Yes, that would be-" warmth suffuses Spock's expression. "I would be amenable."
Jim grins. It's going to be alright.
x x x
Author's notes:
Many thanks to set-sail-oh-ships-of-mine on tumblr for BETA'ing and encouraging me to include a less abrupt, less unhappy ending than was originally intended. Any remaining mistakes or typos are my own.