Jim of course had no way of realizing what Spock had heard through the reinforced walls that separated their rooms. Therefore it was only logical to leave the events unacknowledged. It had been three days since their hands had touched in Jim's room.
Spock never asked for such an attachment to his captain. In fact, the feelings he harbored made him feel somewhat ashamed. Never had he been so … vulnerable towards another life form. Not even Nyota Uhura.
It was clear two months ago that Spock must terminate that relationship, and he did exactly that. His admiration and feelings towards her had always remained the same…stagnant…they never changed or grew. But his feelings for Jim were ever-changing.
He thought of these things as he made his way tot he bridge, his footsteps falling loudly with each step. He turned the corner and ended up the familiar, bright white room. The bridge was relatively quiet.
Checkov was going to say something to Spock but decided against it when he noticed the Vulcan's positively sour disposition.
Spock felt angry and he didn't know why. Which only made him more angry. He pushed back against his emotions but they seemed to continually resurface. He couldn't even successfully meditate this morning.
"G'morning Spock," Jim said with a tiny half smile. The captain was absolutely emanating "normalcy." But it had the exact opposite effect, only ramping up the awkward tension clinging to the space between them.
"Good morning captain," Spock returned coldly, before turning and sitting at his station.
Jim cleared his throat and picked up his PADD. There wasn't too much going on at the moment, it was going to be a slow week, and Jim wasn't sure he could handle spending too much time in his own head.
The shift went by slowly but smoothly. It was nearly over before Jim decided to try and involve Spock in a conversation. Some of the tension had melted away (or so he thought) and so he approached the Vulcan. This time with a smile that was warm, and not just warmed over.
"Having fun Spock?" Jim jested.
Spock was most definitely not having fun. He spent a third of his shift actually focused on work, and the other two thirds trying to make sense of the events that transpired between himself and Jim.
He nearly had it with relationships all together. Without friendships or relationships he calculated that he'd be 12% more efficient at his work at 20% more mentally and emotionally stable.
"Certainly not," he answered his captain, eyes still glued to his PADD. Jim's jaw tightened, his eyes growing sad. "I was just kidding Spock…I know it's been kind of slow lately." "On the contrary," Spock said. "Being at warp gives us a great opportunity to conduct research and file reports."
Jim stood above his first officer, his hands on his hips, and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Well, maybe you want to take a break from all that and grab a bite to eat…with Bones and myself?
"I'm not hungry," Spock answered, the tone of the words like a cold slap of concrete. It was nearly a growl.
Jim's eyes scanned over Spock, who finally relented and looked back at his captain. The bright baby blue eyes shifted nervously beneath drawn eyebrows that reflected a depth of grief Spock was unprepared to see.
It was really stupid, but in that moment, Jim felt like he was losing Spock. Like he shot up their friendship with a phaser three days ago it was doomed to die. The thought of losing Spock's friendship made his blood run cold, and drew liquid to his eyes. He felt such panic that he had done irreparable damage to their relationship.
Every ounce of anger Spock harbored immediately dissipated upon seeing Jim's face…so sad and broken. And he put that expression there, he caused that reaction, it was his fault.
"Maybe next time," Jim said in a whisper, cutting off whatever Spock was about to say, his soft alien lips parted and paused, his expression softened.
The captain disappeared off the bridge and the next shift's crew began shuffling in. He knew that the crew had witnessed the interaction. He knew they knew that something was…off. He could feel the judgement in their gazes.
Spock realized now that he hadn't just turned down Jim's offer for dinner…he…brushed him off…sent him away. He wondered if the subtleties of human interaction would forever escape him.
He hoped not.
It was the first time in three days that Jim had made a real attempt to move forward with their friendship and Spock just slammed the metaphorical door shut in his face.
Immediately, he regretted it.
The shower water was bracingly hot. Jim let the liquid slide across his skin, leaving the flesh beneath a screaming shade of red.
He and Spock hadn't really spoken for three days and today, when he gathers up his bravery and attempts to launch back into his commander's orbit, he crashed and burned.
After the brief conversation, Jim went to dinner with Bones, to keep up appearances. But the second he was done eating he was taking long strides towards his quarters. In a flurry he was in his room, peeling clothes off before the door had even locked. He left a trail of garnets on the floor leading to the shower.
Once inside, beneath the steady stream of steaming water, he took deep breaths, practically able to feel his breath cutting through the humidity around him. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor was soothing. When he closed his eyes and listened, it reminded him of rain. He thought that if he didn't have such a miserable childhood…he might actually miss Earth.
It'd be nice to have something to miss…other than Spock. Something to think about…other than Spock. But he knew that all he wanted to think about was Spock. To feel the other man's hand against his again, or on his face, or sliding down his body.
The want was overwhelming…the need was suffocating. Jim's back slid against the shower wall, he wished it had a texture. Something for his skin to rub against, a sensation to ground him in this moment and get him out of his own head.
These lengthy showers…he used them to wash the day off, to recompose himself, but he felt as though this shower was having the very opposite effect. He chuckled to himself as he thought of what a train wreck all of this was.
If he was failing to lose himself in this scalding hot shower, then he should probably get out before his skin began to cook. Still, the intense heat and heavy steam felt so good as it beat down on his broad shoulders and fell along the curve of his spine.
Maybe the shower was helping after all. For once he managed to not jack off to the thought of Spock. He never thought he'd be relieved by this…but for the last few nights he had been largely unable to sleep. He wasn't startled awake with visions of dying or the overwhelming feelings of grief and loss. He just stayed in the gray space between wake and sleep, and surprisingly, he wasn't too tired.
"Captain," the voice once again cut through the locked door and through the thick air of the steamed bathroom. It startled Jim out of his thoughts. He reached a bright red arm out and turned off the shower. The water came to a halt, it's soothing noise disappearing into solid silence.
"Yes?" Jim asked, surprised that Spock would interrupt his private time. "When you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you," the voice returned. "My quarters?" Spock asked. "Uh, sure," Jim said, scrambling out of the shower and toweling off at super speed. He picked up the pants lying on the bathroom floor and struggled to slip them on past still wet legs.
He hopped around a bit and finally made it to the door. It whooshed open and what felt like arctic air flew over the hot red flesh of his bare chest. His shirt hadn't made it to the bathroom and he didn't want to wait to hear whatever it was Spock wanted to say, so he launched into Spock's room wearing his uniform pants and still toweling of his dripping hair.
Spock looked surprised, taken off guard. "Well, that was fast," Spock ventured. "I must admit that I had expected you to get dressed first." "Sorry," Jim said, entering the room. God he was so awkward. You'd think the captain of an entire star ship wouldn't be so friggin awkward.
"I'm surprised that you want to talk to me," Jim said, going out on a limb. "From our short conversation earlier, I thought you were mad at me." Spock's expression shifted, but Jim couldn't tell exactly what emotion had just scurried across the man's features.
"That is why I wanted to talk to you captain." "Dear god man…it's Jim," he said exasperated.
"Jim…I never meant to hurt your feelings."
"I know Spock."
"You do?"
"Yes."
There was a moment of silence between the two. Jim's flesh was still sun burn red and the situation at hand wasn't exactly helping to cool him down.
He rubbed the back of his neck, digging his short nails into the soft hairs at the bottom of his head.
"I don't want to lose your friendship," he confessed in a near whisper, eyes looking not exactly at Spock's chest, but past him, to his own thoughts. "If I shared too much with you the other day Spock…I'm sorry…"
"You have nothing to apologize for," the Vulcan said, moving closer to Jim, eyebrows drawn together. "You did not share too much with me Jim. I was simply unprepared…" "For what?" "For what I felt when I touched your hand. I had my shields up, but could still feel the weight of your emotions."
Jim gulped, his stomach turned. Touch telepath…fuck. He…didn't even consider that when he brought his hand up, an invitation for Spock's touch. Suddenly his skin felt much hotter.
"Are you alright Jim?" Spock asked, aware of what Jim was only just now realizing. "Your skin is particularly red," he reached a hand up as if to touch, but stopped just short of Jim's collar bone.
There were just about a thousand things Jim wanted to say and ask and do, but in that moment all he wanted was the touch of the other man. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he decided to take a step forward before Spock had the time to retract the hand. But he moved forward so slowly that Spock could back out if he wanted. But he didn't.
The fingers touched against the reddened flesh of Jim's collarbone. They tingled against his skin. "We are still friends, right Spock?" "Yes," Spock answered without hesitation, giving a slight nod and a gentle squeeze of the hand still on Jim. Then the hand disappeared, the flesh beneath feeling suddenly too cold.
"I … there's so much I wish I could say to you Spock …" Jim said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then why don't you?"
Jim shifted uncomfortably. He didn't have an answer ready to give his first officer.
"Is it because of my involvement with Nyota?"
Jim's eyes snapped up to meet his friend's, the look in them questioning.
"I am no longer romantically involved with Nyota."
"Wha…? When did that happen?"
"Approximately two months ago," Spock answered. Jim lent forward, disbelief in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I didn't realize until recently that it was information worth sharing."
Jim's stance had become defensive. He huffed, turned towards the bathroom door. He tried to see things from Spock's perspective. Clearly the man did not understand what "friendship" entailed.
"Spock…that's the kind of thing that you can tell your friend," Jim finally said.
"I realize that now," Spock responded softly. He knew that he had hurt Jim by not telling him. The captain looked angry, his chest rose and fell quickly. "I…." Jim killed the premature sentence with a sigh of disbelieve. He was so angry that he was pacing. He wanted to strangle Spock, or punch him.
He moved closer to Spock, anger etched into his features, his fists balled up in frustration. Spock didn't move, he just let his captain walk right up to him with a burning intensity. Jim stopped, only inches from his face, and paused. He stood perfectly still for a minute and then slipped a hand behind Spock's hand that was resting at Spock's side.
He felt Jim's touch lightly brush down his palm and then the pads of Jim's fingers were on his, and a flurry of electric sparks traveled between them. Jim's forehead was against Spock's now, his breath flitting across Spock's lips. His fingers were sliding so minutely against Spock's.
Jim was kissing him.