Punctilio
Jim just had to ignore it. At least, that's what he told himself whenever he spied Uhura sneaking to the Jeffries tubes to meet an unemotional (Jim hoped begrudging) Spock. Like he was telling himself now.
His grip on the captain's chair armrests tightened as the tube door slid shut. Spock was straight, he reminded himself, and even if Jim did come running at him with open arms the man would brush it off and shove paperwork in its place. No, Jim had to act professionally—smile, act professional, and not cry while the man he loved snogged someone else.
Epigone
He could only imagine what it would be like to be with him. Certainly it would be more than scheduled "dates" in the mess, surrounded by crewmates and the romantic atmosphere of a hospital. No, knowing him, it would be something more intimate, a glass of brandy in his quarters. The physical aspect would not be lacking either, because Kirk was someone who cuddled and kissed and held hands regularly. Yes, being with him would be warmer, more natural.
Spock took his seat in the mess, met her gaze and hoped vainly that tonight's farce would have a swift end.
Abstruse
They had been working on reports when it happened—the "half-accident." The contact was the accidental half. Spock had learned a long time ago that his feelings for Kirk, were certainly not accidental—just unbidden, noisy, and never-ending. The only thing to his credit was that Kirk had initiated the contact, reaching over for one of the reports at Spock's left just as Spock made the same motion. Their skin had touched, and the sudden shock of contact reached to their minds as well. Spock did his best to contain his thoughts, but to no avail. Kirk had heard everything.
Discomfit
Jim lay back against his mattress and stared up at the ceiling, shutting his eyes with a sigh. It wouldn't be too hard to romance a Vulcan, he decided, not if the inclination towards bisexuality was there. Men generally weren't harder to romance than women—quite the opposite, really—and Spock was a man. Half-human, but all man, possessed of the same burning desires for sex and sports that Jim had.
Sex. Spock was likely getting that from Uhura.
Uhura. Jim reeled. God only knew what she would do to his balls if she caught him flirting with her Vulcan.
Calescent
Jim straightened his shoulders and his overshirt front. He had to do it today. It was the last day before their next mission started, the only time he'd ever be able to ask without going against Spock's precious regulations. It was a simple question anyway: Spock, I think you're stunning and would you like to have a drink with me? No strings, not unless Spock wanted them. Easy enough.
He turned left into the hallway. Spock was there alright, his arms wrapped around Uhura's tiny waist mid-kiss. Jim took one look and fled, his eyes stinging with hot, sudden tears.
Author's Notes: Here's your angst, chickadees. I know it's late, but it's been a long weekend involving my mum's birthday (which according to my dad should last all bloody weekend) and all that needed to really be done was beta-ing. Thanks as always to my readers and much-beloved beta, who I'm probably distracting from homework at the moment because I like to twiddle my thumbs for a weekend before sending things to her.