The small parts of the communicator were sprawled across the table in what looked to be no discernible order, but to her trained eye, it was a natural progression.

Why had Nyota taken apart her communicator? She didn't want to be reached. She did not want to talk to anyone from her ship who might outrank her, because the words Spock had said still rattled around in her head, echoing over themselves until they were noise.

She didn't like noise. She liked making sense of the noise; pulling the signal through the interference and finding what reached out to be heard.

Nyota sighed and began to snap the pieces together. The rhythm soothed her greatly.

The captain was affectionate, or perhaps just tactile in general, and very sexually charged. Everyone onboard the Enterprise knew this. The fact that the commander had made the mistake she had was not particularly troublesome. In fact, standing on its own, it was actually rather funny.

The problem was that it felt less like a joke and more like another piece of a puzzle. Ambassador Spock's constant scrutiny of her could be far more understandable, given this and his general comfort with Jim. Of course, she could be jumping to conclusions there, and probably was.

No, the truly disconcerting part of all this was how much it obviously disconcerted Spock.

He had been appropriately Vulcan about the whole thing, of course. But the longer she was in a relationship with Spock, the more she could see when he hid things by the way he hid them. If he seemed more fine, something was even more wrong. And he had been as nonchalant about this whole scenario as it was possible to be.

It was not the first time Spock would have received unwanted attentions. She knew several friends at the academy who wouldn't have minded a chance at what she had, and she was not unaware of the commander herself's interest. Spock had acknowledged all of those for what they were - a mere nuisance - if he had acknowledged them at all. He had not dwelt on them. There was the question of rank with the captain, of course, but honestly, less so than in her own relationship with Spock.

Perhaps Spock had never experienced the combination of unrequited feelings and friendship, had never had to worry about tiptoeing through middle ground before. She hated to see him so concerned about what was surely a passing interest - were she being generous - on Jim's part.

Nyota looked down at the various pieces that, when slotted together, made up her back-up communicator. She was currently in the process of fine tuning a few of the auditory sensors, and it was delicate, time-consuming work.

More than welcome right now.

She bent over the circuitry and tried not to let her thoughts stray again to Spock's discomfort. Or, if she were honest with herself, her discomfort. Why did Kirk's feelings - supposed feelings, even - make her feel so uncomfortable?

Maybe because it was a little weird to think that she and Jim had the same taste in men. That thought made her laugh, and her hand shook with the soldering gun. Nyota took a deep breath and concentrated on welding the motherboard into the chassis.

And besides, she thought abruptly, it wasn't as if they could explicitly trust the Romulan commander, even if that was what they were here for, at least the farce of it. Maybe the woman just wanted to throw a wrench into Spock's enviable calm. That calm that lately only extended so far beneath the surface.

Again, Nyota sighed at that, and realized not much would get done with her current state of mind. The bed seemed like a better and better idea as she brooded, and eventually she turned off the light.

Spock did not know where to look. The logical place would be the current speaker, but situated across from him was the commander, and her gaze could be politely construed as interested.

And perfectly understood as predatory.

But this time it was not quite aimed in his direction. It lingered on his captain, and that did nothing to quell his... his perfectly logical concern.

Jim, for perhaps the first time since Spock had met him, was perfectly oblivious to an attractive female's scrutiny, or at least doing a capital job of pretending to be. He was focused on the Romulan ambassador who held the floor, looking for all intents and purposes the serious captain, and as Spock did his best not to underestimate Jim these days, he could admit that it likely was not a façade.

He wanted Jim's concentration on the talks. But he also wanted Jim to notice the threat that was the commander so that he could politely rebuff her as Spock had and divert her attention, yet again, elsewhere. Her immediate refocus on his captain, while Jim was an objectively attractive man, could easily lead Spock to believe that her intentions were political rather than romantic.

Such underhanded manipulation was the last thing either side needed at the moment.

"As we had feared," the ambassador was saying, and Spock had the impression that the commander was managing to listen and watch Jim all at once, "Nero is being used as a platform, as though his behavior were the standard in our society. Our arms production is not your concern. There is no reason to limit it."

"We would be limiting our own as well," Ambassador April said.

"With the Klingons encroaching, I would almost rather one of us be supplied to fight them."

"That's not-"

"And I must say, if you are concerned about possible weaponry," And here, Spock watched the Romulan ambassador's eyes travel to his own counterpart, "perhaps it is the Vulcan Science Academy you should be limiting."

Spock stiffened in his chair and did not realize how tight his grip on the arm had become until he felt Jim's hand settle on his wrist. He forcibly unclenched his fingers.

Ambassador Spock regarded the other coolly. "My time was equipped for such advances."

"How can we be assured that the advances from your time are not used to bolster your ailing civilization?" the Romulan ambassador asked harshly.

Spock could distantly hear the sound of warping plastic, and quite suddenly there was a warm hand over his. He blinked and looked down to find Jim's hand on his, and oddly, was comforted. He was able to release the arm of the chair, and lamented on the faint finger marks that were left.

It would have to be replaced.

"Because the red matter technology would serve us no purpose as of right now."

"It is a formidable weapon."

"It was created with the intent of saving a civilization. Unfortunately it has led to the decimation of one. I would not wish it to fall into the hands of a people who have just experienced such loss."

The Romulan ambassador bared his teeth. "To pull on the heart strings is almost emotional."

"To state the truth is logical," Ambassador Spock responded.

"Ambassador Spock is the only one present with any knowledge of the red matter's components," Spock heard Jim speak up, but his thumb had begun to stroke over Spock's knuckles distractingly. No doubt it was an attempt at further calming, but it was beginning to have the opposite effect. "And even he only knows so much, and what he knows, he's telling no one."

Indeed, Spock knew Starfleet had asked, though anyone present would be embarrassed to admit it.

"As for the future, there's no controlling that," Jim finished, and his thumb mercifully stilled.

"Agreed," the Romulan said. "Which is why we suggest the limitations. Or perhaps an accord to share the knowledge, should it be developed."

Sometimes, I miss nuclear weapons, Spock thought, and it took him a moment to realize it was not his own. It startled him into finally withdrawing his hand.

"The red matter effectively does not exist." Ambassador April sat forward and Jim sat back. "All we are suggesting for our current terms is a guarantee that armaments will be reduced to the lowest points realistically consistent with domestic safety. On both sides."

"The Kingons-"

"Will be taken into consideration."

For what seemed to Spock the first time all day, the commander took her eyes off of Kirk and turned them on Ambassador April, her customary smirk in place.

"Give us your realistic numbers then, Ambassador," she said, and Spock felt like Jim's grip was loosening, even though he had long since released his hand.

"I'll be returning to the ship tonight."

Spock looked down at Nyota and nodded. "That is acceptable. I have much work to do and would not be pleasant company." He allowed the edges of his lips to quirk in response to her smile, and the brief kiss she gave him.

"I'll leave you to your work. Have you been able to find equilibrium?"

It was a considerate question, and devoid of emotion, which would only have added to the problem. But Spock did not know how to reassure Nyota without lying to both her and himself.

"I will achieve it soon," he said, assured. "I will not keep you from your rest."

Nyota nodded and touched his hand briefly before she took out her communicator. "One to beam up," she said quietly, and waved before her molecules dissipated.

Spock watched the space she vacated for a few moments, and tensed at the sound behind him. "Captain," he said, without turning around.

Jim stopped beside him with a grin. "I wanted to sneak up on you."

"Then you should school your breathing."

"Uhura said once that I breathe loudly," Kirk pouted briefly, then straightened. "What a day, am I right?"

Spock hesitated; the mention of the day brought with it memories of the talks, and the commander. And what had effectively become a kiss, though he was certain Jim was unaware of that. "Captain-"

"Jim," Kirk interrupted.

"Jim." Spock swallowed and considered his next move. There was little reason to bring up the commander's assumptions, but there was every reason to warn Jim away from her. "The commander-"

"Seems to be off you," Jim said, and Spock stared at him, surprised, though he perhaps should not have been.

"I explained my satisfactory relationship status," he said and Jim's eyes were suddenly less playful somehow. "Yes."

Jim reached up to rub at the back of his neck and with a huffed chuckle, helped himself to a chair. "Unfortunately, I have nothing like your excuse, if I read her new vibes correctly."

"She would not be offended if you were to tell her your attentions were engaged elsewhere as well," Spock said.

"You mean lie?"

Jim's tone was teasing, surely because the thought of Spock suggesting he tell falsehoods was quite amusing to him, but Spock paused on his way to the room's replicator, his offer of a beverage freezing in his throat. Spock had not quite intended for Jim to lie, but if lying was all Jim could do, that answered several questions of the past few days.

Unless, of course, Jim was lying now. Which seemed unlikely.

Spock swallowed the strange sensations the knowledge produced and opened his mouth to again ask if Jim desired a drink, but what came out was, "She already has suspicions. You would merely be refusing to deny them." He busied himself with the replicator, and like two nights ago in this room with Nyota, he experienced the paradox of both wanting to talk and not. He hoped Jim would ask. He hoped he would not.

"Suspicions?"

"Is it a lie?" he asked the replicator. He really should have been answering a question, not asking one.

When he looked, Jim's gaze was a little more guarded than he had seen in a while. Hard, as it had been at the Kobayashi Maru hearing. Defensive. "What's it matter?" he said, tone more controlled than his expression. "If she thinks it's true, you're right, it'll be an easy out. Besides, I won't even be addressing it unless she gets inappropriate."

Spock turned back to the replicator and punched in a command for tea. "Of course, Captain."

Jim didn't correct the title. "Where did she get these suspicions anyway?"

"I cannot specify."

"Of course not. Romulan or not, she's still a woman," Jim said ruefully as he accepted the warm beverage from Spock. He noted it was one of the teas he actually liked, a vanilla blend that tasted more caramel than anything else. It gave him something to concentrate on, something else to look at rather than his first officer.

He felt like he was fourteen again.

"I guess it doesn't matter. If it comes up, it comes up," Jim said.

Spock frowned at his rather cryptic response, but settled for a nod. He felt that the opportunity to expound further upon the topic had passed, and he could only lament its passing.

Metaphorically, of course.

"Maybe I should, like... tone it down."

Spock stiffened, unsure if he understood Jim's phrasing, and if he appreciated what he believed it to mean. "Captain?"

"Well, like... I'm kind of... you know. Especially around Uhura, which you're both cool about 'cause I think you just both think I'm an idiot, but maybe I should back off. Because maybe that's why the commander thinks that. And that's too unprofessional, even for me. I can't keep that up. Not for something this important."

Spock still had his back to Jim, replicating his own cup of tea, but he felt the eye contact that would have taken place had he been facing him, heard the unspoken "for you."

"The commander was not speaking of the lieutenant."

"Well, no, not now you've set her straight about you and Uhura, but it doesn't matter anyway. I think I need to lay off, regardless of the talks. It hasn't been anything but a joke for a long time between me and Uhura and it's... it's not a joke to you two. So."

Jim's voice was odd, and Spock was very unwilling to turn around. He heard him clear his throat.

"So I should probably stop treating it like one."

Spock could not disagree. Any time Jim wished to become more professional of his own volition, Spock was hesitant to discourage him, but he could not ignore the dejected tone. "We are not offended, Captain," he assured him.

"Still." He heard Jim sigh and the heaviness lifted immediately. "So, not Uhura then. I must just have the general air of a taken man, then. Which I can't say anyone has ever picked up on from me."

Spock carefully said nothing.

"Maybe this job has changed me more than I realize."

As conversations with Jim tended to be when they were alone, this one was growing exceedingly personal, and Spock was no more comfortable with the track it was taking than he might have been had they actually been discussing the commander's true suspicions. He could not deny Jim's statement, because he had observed that the captaincy had indeed changed him; in Spock's opinion, for the better. Admirable qualities of Jim's he had only seen glimpses of during the Narada incident were becoming more and more appreciable and steadfast.

But Jim sounded more saddened by his own words than proud.

"I... do not believe that was the commander's impression," he said.

"So what was her impression, since you're so sure of it?"

Spock blinked. "I do not believe I lent myself to any more understanding than you, about everything."

Jim tilted his head and a smile bloomed, and quickly wilted. "You dodge the question only when you're uncomfortable with the answer."

Spock did not dignify the words with a reply.

"Spock." Jim's tone was light, but his expression was tight-lipped, bordered on angry. The command tone had seeped in, even though this was a personal matter. Jim probably didn't realize he was doing it. Spock was unsure of how to proceed.

"She is under the impression that your... fixation was not with Lieutenant Uhura, but with myself."

Jim blinked and looked down into his cup. There was a long silence, too long, even for Spock. "And how do you feel about that?" He glanced up and shook his head. "No, I don't mean feel. I meant... does that make a difference to you?"

"I place no weight in conjecture, Captain."

The silence returned. "Yeah, you seem really comfortable with it."

Sarcasm. It was not a question, so Spock did not respond.

"And I didn't mean the 'conjecture' part. I just meant... the general idea."

"That you would not make advances on the woman I plan to marry, but on myself?" Spock felt the frost of incredulity, but remained outwardly calm. "That hardly seems relevant."

"Because it's conjecture?"

"Among other things, Captain."

"Jim."

"Jim."

"Like that apparently you plan to marry Uhura."

"It is the logical course of action."

"Of course." Only a brief pause this time. "You haven't looked at me in about ten minutes."

"That is exaggeration."

"Hyperbole," Jim corrected him, and he could not disagree. He obediently turned to face his friend, surprised somehow that Jim's appearance had in no way altered. Jim sighed again. "For such a direct guy, Spock, we seem to wind up beating around the bush a lot when we're together."

"Beating-" But then Spock stopped, because he understood the slang, and the teasing reflex was too perfect irony.

Jim smirked mirthlessly. "Yeah. Like that." Jim's eyes listed down to his tea, balanced in his hand on the arm of his chair. "My point is... if it weren't conjecture. Is this gonna have to be a thing?"

He met Spock's eyes, but Spock was frozen to the spot, unable to respond.

"Because it's not. A thing. I mean, there's... but it's nothing. The only things that might make it a problem are Uhura and our working relationship, but you should know I've felt this before and... yeah. It's nothing. Goes away. So. Doesn't have to be a problem, right?"

Spock was too busy processing the new, impossible information to be asked to consider what the information would mean.

"Indeed," he made himself say, because he could not ask Jim to sit there waiting for an answer for as long as it would take him to formulate one which had any truth to it.

"Great." Jim set his tea aside, even though the cup was still half full, and rose from his chair, stretching nonchalantly. Then he stared at Spock for a moment, a strange expression on his face, and reached out to smack his shoulder. "Glad this wasn't the awkward situation it could have been."

It may have been sarcasm again. Jim was leaving before Spock could decide.