Title: Luring Horses

Summary: When the Enterprise is dispatched to aid a starving colony, Captain Kirk entrusts his crew with running the overall operation. Meanwhile, he gets his hands dirty helping out on the ground-with Spock at his side.

Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock

Rating: Teen. Preteen?

Notes: Written for the first High Flier Exchange, for Believethestars.

"Is that one?" Captain James T. Kirk asked his first officer, squinting into the late afternoon light.

Commander Spock dutifully followed his line of sight and tried to pick a shape out of the wind-roiled, backlit dust. "I believe that is a large shrub, Captain."

Kirk squinted anew, then sighed and looked a little put out. "Well it's a horse-shaped shrub."

"It is…horse height."

Kirk's hand drifted toward the wide brim of his hat, as if in contemplation of throwing it at Spock, before he shook his head and let the hand come to rest on the door of the open-topped utility vehicle they were driving around the parched colony planet.

Spock mentally corrected "they" to "he." Kirk had many talents, but driving was not one of them. Spock was determined to operate the vehicle at all times unless he became grievously incapacitated. He resumed doing so.

"Spock, look at the top of that hill. I see movement."

"A fortuitous find." Spock adjusted course, and they drove in companionable silence.

They had passed much of the day like this, exploring the dusty hills near a farming colony via a borrowed, high-torque vehicle pulling a large, rugged trailer rigged as a horse pen. They had managed to fill it halfway with hungry animals.

Both men were aware that hand-luring individual animals was not the most efficient collection methodology, but they lacked the training to try herding horses with vehicles the way humans had done centuries ago–and still did, depending on their needs in managing wild horse colonies on earth. Thankfully, the domesticated beasts of this colony seemed desirous of humanoid contact, and once convinced to walk up the ramp into the trailer, fresh food kept them from trying to escape. But Spock theorized the ones that were left on the loose, which had strayed farther from home and each other, might not be as eager to come to strangers.

As Spock, Kirk, and their charges approached the hillside, sure enough, the roan gelding cropping desiccated grass there paused and looked up. As the Starfleet officers stopped the vehicle, exited, and began to approach, the horse turned the broad side of his body to them, showing off every centimeter of his formidable bulk. After a few more steps his way, he stomped a hoof and snorted.

"Come on, pretty boy; your family misses you," Kirk crooned. He tried another step, and the horse sidled another body length away. Kirk sighed. "Aw, come on, fella. Can't you hear your brothers and sisters chomping on carrots and grain back there? There's plenty for you!"

Spock blinked, then looked at the dust blowing by them. "Good idea, Captain. I'll move the trailer upwind of him."

"...Thanks, Spock. For picking up on that. You do that, and then I'll see if this apple is enough to get him up the ramp."

With a little time, cajoling from Kirk, and fructose-enhanced bribery, the horse joined the others in the trailer, and the two men climbed back into the vehicle.

After several minutes of silence, Kirk groused, "How do they even have horses out here?"

Spock reasoned, "If the animals were not in the colonists' initial expedition, I imagine they bought cargo passage for them from Earth."

"Well…yes, Spock, but why?"

Spock knew it was an ironic show of trust for the captain to pointlessly complain his way through a task like this, no matter how bored or tired he was. If paired with a young officer or crewman, he would be all encouragement, brash for the adept and firmly supportive to one who floundered. If he could not project quiet confidence in the task, he would evince that self-deprecating humor that made so much of Enterprise's crew look at him with transparent adoration and a burning desire to emulate him. The consummate captain of men, easy with his praise but never patronizing. Sensitive to the needs of those around him.

But here with Spock, sweating under a white-yellow sun and having forgotten proper skin protection, Captain Kirk let a little of petulant Jim show through.

Spock saw no reason to indulge him, knowing it was not what Jim wanted anyway. Though he mentally granted that horses were highly unusual to encounter so far from Earth. Most earth animals besides dogs and chickens were. Not only did roaming livestock create a concern for the ecosystems of Class M planets, the very first protein resequencers had long ago obviated the need for meat animals, which were costly in resources, and modern machinery was generally more efficient than beasts of burden. However, chickens produced eggs and a valuable component of fertilizer, and they traveled well and compactly in stasis while still eggs themselves. And when in need, or when the chickens were old, humans could still eat them if they had the proclivity. On balance, colonists usually thought chickens a good use of their allotted cargo space.

But none of that applied to horses.

"Based on the level of resources committed to acquiring and caring for these animals, as well as their comparatively healthy state while the humans here went hungry, it is reasonable to conjecture the animals are important to their culture and very likely were before they left earth."

Kirk sighed. "Very logical, Mr. Spock."

"I am certain you are just as capable of such logic, Captain."

Kirk raised an eyebrow at the mild dig, then grinned. "I just like hearing it from you."

Spock glanced at him at just the wrong time to avoid a depression in the road, possibly from a burrowing creature, and Jim had to grab onto the vehicle frame to remain seated.

"The horses-"

But Spock had already corrected his steering to keep the trailer wheels out of the hole. He felt an uncharacteristic heat in his cheeks and was thankful for the way the white-yellow sun washed out his complexion. "My apologies."

"No harm done. Though, Spock, I can take a turn if you're too flustered to steer-"

"No," Spock said a little too forcefully, then let out a minute sigh as Jim began to chuckle at his expense.

It took them some time to locate the next horse, and as they drove, Spock further ruminated on the emergency that detoured Enterprise to this planet.

Starfleet had ordered them there with all haste. According to their mission briefs, and corroborated by their findings: This was an older human colony and far flung for its age, and a confluence of bad luck and nonoptimal planning had disrupted their food supply. Their crops failed in a drought; their hydroponics were insufficient; and their aged protein resequencers were well past their recommended service life. A large shipment of modern food synthesizers was on the way, and the people here rigged their ailing resequencers to process as much and as many varieties of biological material as they could, but still they had begun to starve. Illness struck the weakened people, also, and Spock theorized the altered, overtaxed resequencers could be contributing.

And so Enterprise, being the nearest Starfleet vessel to the problem, came to assist. Kirk declared such a humanitarian emergency an "all hands on deck" situation.

As to how Kirk and Spock wound up chasing loose equines, Spock blamed himself.

While Kirk was still handling task assignments, a colonist called in to request help "rounding up" her settlement's horses. Though Kirk hailed from Iowa (an Earth region rich in farmland and rural pursuits), Spock knew he had little experience with large animals. He spent his youth following his Starfleet father from post to post, and even when he spent time on a colony, chickens and pet dogs were, again, some of the only animals they brought from earth.

So as Kirk went silent to consider the unfamiliar problem, Spock remarked, "You must care for them very much." As the colonists must have, not to have eaten the creatures. Spock suspected any chickens had been.

"Very much, yes."

"Logical to turn them out, then, where they could take their chances." And where they would be difficult for the less invested to catch and eat.

"Yes, sir. We can't eat grass or the bit of hay we've been able to lay out for them, but they can. It's scrubby out there, but not as scrubby as our own pasture. Still, I know they're awful hungry, and they would be such a help and a comfort recovering from all this."

Spock glanced at the Captain, who watched them both but did not look as if he was ready to speak, and asked, "How do you suggest we gather the animals? Are they wearing any tack? A halter, at least, for tying?"

"No bridle, but yes, most should have a halter. We have trailers…and we're not asking you to do it all. We can handle the north if you can take the west."

Kirk finally spoke, "Do you ride, Mr. Spock?"

"I have, Captain, though mostly when I was a boy." In somewhat ironic contrast to his rural-born captain, Spock was the son of a notable diplomat and as such had occasionally been afforded the opportunity to take part in privileged activities like horseback riding.

Kirk nodded and turned back toward the screen. "Ma'am, we'll take care of it personally. Mr. Spock and I."

"We will?"

"You will?"

"We will. After I send everyone else on their way, we will come to you."

And so Kirk sent Doctor McCoy and Nurse Chapel out to different settlements' clinics to triage the starving and the starving sick, assigning cautious refeeding regimens when needed and clearing some individuals for substantive work after a good meal and a short encounter with Enterprise's state-of-the-art medical equipment. Any local doctors well enough to assist did so. The Captain put Mr. Scott and his engineering team in charge of food production logistics, making the best use of the Enterprise's limited food synthesis and transporter systems according to the needs as reported to him. He assigned ensigns and crewmen to survey the different settlements in shuttles and ferry around the sickest. Uhura had her hands full keeping communication lines flowing and information organized.

Sulu had the conn, with Chekhov at his side. And anyone left in security or research–and the Captain–were busy getting their hands dirty. A sick and exhausted populace could not tend to their farms well, even farms with dusty, failed crops.

The next horse was an even larger gelding, black and white spotted with his ribs highlighted in the waning sunlight. This time, Spock parked the trailer upwind before coming for a stop, and still the horse stood his ground and glared at them both. Crooning and cajoling did nothing, so Spock went to the vehicle and retrieved a lead and an apple.

The horse turned his head to face Spock, ears forward.

"You know what this is, I see," Spock said softly, hefting the apple. "You can smell the food we have, or else you would have run already."

The horse's head bobbed in time with the hefted apple, but he did not take a step.

Spock turned his back fully to the horse and waited a moment. All he could hear was Jim shifting uneasily, almost certainly wondering what he was thinking. Spock bit into the apple, and it was more than the horse could bear; Spock heard him approach.

He lifted the apple so it was just under his left shoulder, and as he felt hot breath against it, and as Jim called out a warning, Spock easily dodged the bite. The horse was so hungry, he did not even pause before redirecting his jaws at the apple, which Spock held on flattened hand. It was all the time he needed to hook the lead to the animal's halter.

The horse pulled with a fearsome strength Spock would not have expected from its gaunt frame, but Jim helped him hold the lead, and with enough shushing and patting, the animal allowed itself to be charmed and calmed.

Jim slapped Spock on the shoulder. "Well, I'll be. I didn't know you had it in you, Mr. Spock."

Still patting the animal, mildly distracted by looking out for further bite attempts, Spock replied, "Well, Captain, though you and I have been through a great deal, I have yet to catalogue or demonstrate every skill of mine for you."

Jim went still and silent just long enough to indicate to Spock he should evaluate the possible implications of his statement. He did, but did not offer an explanation before Jim cleared his throat.

"Ah. Well…" he turned to watch Spock usher the animal into the trailer, and as the gate closed, he finished, "you'll have to go over the highlights with me someday, Spock. Just the ones I've likely missed, or we'll be at it all night."

Spock had no appropriate rejoinder to that.

At the end of their dusty day, after Kirk and Spock enjoyed the sight of haggard farmers cooing at and even hugging their animals, they patted away the worst of the dust and returned to the central settlement to meet the colony's governor.

On the way from the beam-in point to his office, those who recognized the rank insignia on Kirk's sleeves stopped to thank him, and he took the time to shake or just touch their hands, to smile and remark on the unwavering fortitude of the colony or the strength of their character.

Spock watched him closely, if surreptitiously. Aware of Jim's own history with starvation in a colony. Tarsus IV was the first thought in his and, he was sure, Jim's own mind from the moment they heard their mission brief. Jim was a sensitive man, even for a human, and each tired and gaunt face made his smile come just a fraction of a moment slower and washed him a half-shade paler under the dust.

Spock had surmised that Jim purposefully assigned himself their isolated, hands-on work for the day, even though he had no special rapport with animals. Had someone demand he justify it, he would surely point out that, as a serious and complex situation that was not especially dangerous, it would be valuable experience for his crew to work without his oversight. Uhura's strategic guidance would be enough to get them through, or call help for them if it was needed.

Still, finally faced with the populace, the captain bore up well, reassuring and charming everyone right up until they entered the governor's office.

"Captain! Welcome to Parker Village. I understand you've been hard at work in the hills?"

All calm benevolence left the Captain's face. He looked the governor up and down and answered with a mild, polite tone out of step with his hardened eyes. "Yes, my first officer and I helped square away your livestock. Only a few of the folks out there are strong enough to spend all day in the sun."

Spock looked between them, expecting some kind of recognition in the governor's expression but seeing nothing besides bland political nicety. On a full, hale face highlighted by rosy cheeks. A steady hand gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

"Sit, please. I'd like to tell you how outstanding your personnel are."

"No, thank you; you'd be vacuuming the prairie dust off it for weeks."

Not all of the humans on the colony were skinny, per se. They weren't so short of food for so long that anyone had become skeletal. The heaviest people still had mass to burn; and rationing had kept everyone alive, if not healthy. But everyone had suffered, had gaunt faces and nutritional deficiencies that showed in their complexions and their aching joints.

Everyone except this governor.

The three men waded through a few more minutes of stilted niceties until Jim excused himself and Spock back to Enterprise.

Back in the hall, around a deserted corner from the office, Jim stopped to take a slow breath and let it out. Still, his fists balled at his side with such force they shook.

Spock thought again that Jim was a sensitive human. To the crew's advantage and his occasional detriment.

Spock laid a firm hand on his shoulder. Knowing that Jim knew that it wasn't a casual gesture for a Vulcan. "Jim."

Jim turned his body more toward Spock and looked up into his eyes, struggling. "That man…"

"I know."

"I oughta…" Jim looked away and tensed his jaw and his fist.

Spock pulled at him slightly, meaning to give an encouraging shake (human males were forever slapping and shaking each other to express encouragement for some reason), and stepped closer, lowering his head to give more discreet encouragement.

Just as Jim also turned toward him and lowered his head. Forehead met clavicle, and both men paused. But didn't pull away. And then Jim sighed and shifted, his breath warming Spock's chest as he rested more naturally against the junction of Spock's neck and shoulder and released some of his tension.

On instinct, Spock let go of Jim's shoulder and rested both hands lightly on his back. Felt Jim's arms go around his middle. A tremendous amount of body contact for him, especially in a semi-public hallway, but Jim needed it. Spock could no sooner push him away than he could sprout roots from his toes and become a permanent fixture in the town hall. And it was logical to sometimes indulge the human need for comfort and touch for the sake of maintaining their performance. Even with a loose hug.

Spock tried to think that was all it was while the rather strong scent of a particular tired human male mingled with unfamiliar soil in his nose, and he did not wish to recoil.

He rubbed Jim's back a little. "Jim…"

"Spock, I…"

"Jim, this colony will take longer to organize itself if you hospitalize its leader."

Jim sputtered.

"It may also introduce social friction and distrust that would make things harder for our crew."

Jim straightened upright and patted Spock on the side. "All right, all right; I get your point. And…thanks, Spock."

"Think nothing of it, Captain," said Spock while thinking of it a great deal.

They began walking again just as an aide turned the corner, on the way to see the governor. Everyone nodded politely and continued walking.

Once outside, Spock cleared his throat and found himself saying, "Captain, I would like to offer to visit you in your quarters this evening."

Kirk shot him a sidelong look. "...You're not asking just to check up on me, are you?"

"If you will indulge me, Captain, I would be reassured by it."

A long silence. "Well, all right. I want to get a report from Uhura and check on engineering, and I'd like you to check on ship medical supplies, but you can come over later. Maybe for a late dinner?"

Spock nodded. "That will do, Captain."

An hour and a half later, Spock knocked on the captain's door, tri-dimensional chess set in hand. Kirk called to let him in, and Spock entered. Only to find Kirk shirtless and very freshly showered.

He almost dropped his chess set. His mind had been on possible topics of conversation for the evening, on what would help the Captain and what to avoid for his comfort, but every part of that consideration vaporized. He looked squarely at his friend and captain's chest and stomach, framed by a towel and the well-formed pair of forearms that hung from it, and stopped moving.

"Spock, are you all right?"

Spock mentally shook himself. "...Yes, Captain. The planet's sun was perhaps too white for Vulcan eyes; mine may have been strained." He sat on Jim's couch and placed the chess set on the right edge of the low table.

"Do you need Bones to come up and have a look at it?"

"No, I will be fine by tomorrow."

Jim sat across from him. "Good. I'd feel superior about my human eyes, but my sunburned human hands weren't so quick to heal without some help from modern medical equipment. So you win this one."

Spock cocked an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware it was a contest, Captain."

Jim gave him a wry smile. "No 'Captain' while I'm bedraggled in loungewear, Spock."

Spock nodded, the movement feeling somehow stilted and unnatural. Why was he struggling? He inventoried his body and senses.

The shower-clean scent of Jim hit him first, that particular human musk still perceptible under the soaps. The look of him, again, all soft brown eyes and damp hair.

The echo on Spock's body of the embrace they had shared, what should have been a shocking liberty to a Vulcan. But something part of him very much wanted to repeat.

"Listen, I want to thank you for being with me today."

"No need; you did order me to work with you today." Spock delivered it with a lift of the eyebrows and a wryness of tone that he knew Jim, unlike the average human, would only read in the manner in which it was intended.

He looked amiably annoyed. "I mean I didn't just order you with me for utility, Spock." He glanced away and cleared his throat. "It was a…comfort to have you there. You kept my mind off bad memories all day, and when that was no longer possible…Well, thanks for looking out."

"I am at your disposal, Captain."

The light flush that rose on Jim's cheeks during his statement flared bright, and he glanced sidelong at Spock. "Right, well, I should probably put a shirt on before we eat. What can I get you to drink?"

"My usual tea, if you please." On chilly human ships, even his half-human physiology benefited from hot beverages, and he favored Vulcan tea.

Jim spoke the order into his personal food synthesizer–a notable Captain's privilege–on the way to his room and picked up the tea on his way out, shirt in one hand and mug in the other. He walked over and placed it before Spock on the table, nearly knee-to-knee with him.

Then he stood upright and began to pull on the shirt.

Spock placed a hand on his forearm, stalling the maneuver.

They stared at each other, Jim with one arm in his t-shirt, Spock touching Jim's bare skin, outwardly still but internally…mortified.

After several seconds, Jim stepped slightly away from Spock to let the shirt fall to the ground, then sat next to him on the couch. Very close. "Spock, what is it?"

"...I…" Spock was reluctant to lie, but he simply did not have an acceptable answer.

Concern pouring from his features, Jim reached up slowly, giving Spock time to pull away before taking both his shoulders in his hands.

Part of Spock noted how brave this was, for a human to heedlessly take hold of a Vulcan behaving erratically, just out of concern for his wellbeing.

"Spock, are you all right? Do you need something?"

"I…may be unwell."

Jim leaned in. "With what? Damn it, man, can I help you, or do I need to call for Bones?"

"You can…" he trailed off, glancing down Jim's body. Not as strong as he looked, to a Vulcan, but fit and fine, soft lines over diligently-maintained muscle. Remembered the feel of him tucked against Spock's taller body, needing him.

Spock slowly lifted his arms from his sides to rest his hands on Jim's forearms–slowly, not fully trusting his control over his own strength. He looked into the eyes of his truest friend and could only breathe, "Jim."

Jim looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing in concentration and darting all over Spock's features. And in an echo of Spock's earlier impulse, pulled Spock closer by his shoulders. Spock went. With the deliberate caution of a novice starship pilot on a planetary landing, Kirk pulled more and leaned in, and Spock leaned in. Spock's mind was completely blank, which he observed in a sort of detached way as he slid his hands along Jim's arms, and looked from Jim's eyes to his lips and back, and finally met him in a kiss.

The shock of the sensation sent Spock hurtling back into himself, his brain and every nerve ending orienting itself toward the points of contact between him and Jim. Who was at that moment squeezing Spock's shoulders, the next sliding his hands down Spock's arms. Spock resettled his own hands on Jim's knee and against his side.

They pulled away and just looked at each other, scant centimeters apart. Spock saw no regret, disgust, or even real surprise in his friend's face. He looked...happy. His eyes were shining. And whatever he saw in Spock's own visage widened his grin.

Echoing himself from hours earlier, Jim said, "Why, Spock, I didn't know you had it in you."

Spock realized he must have scowled, because Jim started laughing, and it made him look even more radiant.

"You really are okay, Spock? You didn't catch something planetside; you're not under mind control; and you're not coming down with some secret Vulcan ailment?" The tone was teasing, but Spock could feel the honest concern in it somewhere. Logically, he also knew this was an "out" to the situation, plainly offered. Spock saw in Jim's flush and felt in the tangle of their limbs what Jim wanted to hear.

"I am perfectly healthy, Captain. I am not afflicted by any drug or any unnatural hormone. I merely…desire you." Have long desired you. If you'll have me. The admission felt like shackles being cut from his limbs. There would be no more deniability of his inappropriate attachment, for good or for ill.

Jim's expression intensified, but when he spoke, it came out a whisper. "Just desire me, Spock?"

"No," Spock assured him, taking one of his hands. "It has never just been desire."

With his free hand, Jim cradled Spock's face, held his jaw, caressed his cheek. "I'm glad to hear that. Because I care for you…so much, Spock."

Spock leaned into his hand. "And I for you. I think you knew that." Ever the responsible captain, Jim would never have acted on that understanding, not on his own. Ever the mediocre Vulcan, Spock had shattered his own ruse after a long day of protective vigilance, a hug, and an eyeful of shirtless human.

Jim grinned. "I just like hearing it from you."

Spock leaned in close again, eyes on Jim's dancing ones. "Let me show it."

They met again in a kiss.

END

End note: The prompt was, "I didn't know you had it in you, Mr. Spock."