"Spock, I heard you needed some advice for what to get the Captain."
"I . . . suppose that you are correct in that assumption," Spock said to the lieutenant, somewhat reluctantly. Uhura's face lit up a little- finally Spock had quelled his stubbornness to a point of accepting help. This must have been very important to him.
"What you need to do is to get him something you can both do together," Uhura said, clearly predetermined, "Like a trip, or a personalized chess board."
"Vulcans do not vacation the way that humans do. They prefer a more logical form of rest; there is a way-,"
"Chess, then."
"I do not know where I would acquire a personalized chess board."
"It sounds like you're just making excuses, Spock."
"I…," Spock began, his voice suddenly hushed, "I simply desire for it to be optimal. But your suggestions are not unhelpful."
"Thank you."
Spock nodded and turned back to his work- the work he should have finished hours ago. There was something quixotic about situation, though; while he wanted to please Jim and would hardly be able to function if he didn't, he also took pleasure from the search- it was a mystery, a puzzle with a missing piece. The rational thing to do was to reason it out logically: Jim had many interests, consisting primarily of reading, historical knowledge, chess, and, quite recently, Vulcan culture. His captain had occasionally slipped in Vulcan words and phrasing that only Spock and Uhura could understand- surely he realized what he was doing, but the reasons for it were unclear. Of course, giving Jim something that would appeal to his main interests felt wrong- there was no basis for this judgement, but it just felt unpersonalized, unattached. Which, ironically, was quite what Spock should have been feeling toward Jim, but if he would accept nothing else, he would accept this- he would accept that Jim was something different than the others.
Spock got up from his work for the third time that day, with a new kind of conviction. He would figure this out if it killed him.
"What the devil are you doing now, Spock?" Bones' eyes widened in shock and concern at the site of a just-as-surprised Spock in his quarters. He had come in only to ask for some scientific information from a past visit to a starbase, but the greeting that Spock had provided him was much more than he had expected.
The first officer was sitting in the middle of his quarters- on the floor, no less- his hair hopelessly tousled and messy. Papers with illegible scribbles on them coated the floor, contrasting Spock's usually organized fashion, and broken writing utensils were everywhere.
"What are you doing with paper, Spock? You can use a computer if it means that much to you," Bones said with a grimace at the mess.
"I preferred for my work to be untraceable, Doctor," said Spock, smoothing his hair down with his hand.
"Why? Is this something for work?"
"No, Doctor, this is something...personal. I do not mean to insult you, but your presence is delaying my progress."
"Is this about Jim's birthday?"
Spock stalled, pretending to take a sudden interest in an empty corner of his room.
"Come on, Spock."
"Affirmative."
"What is all this? Are you making some algorithm to find out what Jim will like?"
"I cannot very well finish it when being disturbed."
"Alright," McCoy said, picking the papers up and moving them to the bin, "I know that you're only doing what you know, but this really isn't a normal way to decide on a gift for someone."
"Desist," Spock said imperatively to an ignoring Doctor McCoy, "Doctor, the Captain is not a normal man. Not to me."
"Yes, he's quite a captain," Bones said skeptically.
"I mean-,"
"Spock, I know what you mean. Everyone knows what you mean, in case you haven't noticed, except for you, apparently."
"I do not understand."
A smirk returned to the doctor's face.
"Here's something Jim would love for his birthday. He would love for you to tell him how you feel."
"In… In my culture-,"
"Jim's a human, Spock."
"Doctor, I insist that you cease interrupting me."
There was a silence between them for a moment.
"I know you love him, Spock," said Bones, breaking the silence, only to be immediately immersed in it afterwards. Spock stared off into space, his thoughts reeling. He did not love Jim. He did not love Jim. He did not.
"Affirmative," he said, almost inaudibly.