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Spock reluctantly stepped away from the projector. He reluctantly made his way out from behind the curtains, and reluctantly stepped into the light, walking quickly to the edge of the stage and stopping half a step behind his captain, who had for some reason elected to sit on the edge of the stage, dangling his legs like a youth and grinning. Spock would have been much more perturbed by the entire unplanned, unexpected situation had it not been for the full force of that open grin turning towards him the moment he stepped into the light.
Jim gestured to him again, and he nodded to the crowd slowly, raising a brief ta'al.
To his surprise, in the dim light of the auditorium, he saw the shadow of four hands raised in return. A further examination revealed four heads of sleek, black hair. Four pairs of slanted brows sitting heavily atop four sets of inky black eyes that stared back at him, shining with a subtle pride it would take a Vulcan, or Jim, to read. Spock mentally updated his identity to include these four young things in their crisp student uniforms; he was the first Vulcan in the fleet, but it seemed he was no longer the only.
Pride was a human emotion and a human fault that he certainly did not feel in that moment. It was not pride to be struck with the sudden awareness of how your actions had affected other lives.
While he was still examining the four, hands started to shoot up, in the far back of the auditorium, where the youngest students sat. Eager hands waved. Some bounced in their seats, all glad to go above the heads of the frowning brass in the front rows.
With acknowledgement from the Captain, the questions began to pour in. Tactical questions of course, and questions about specific missions, but among them come more esoteric, personal inquiries. The kind of questions that burned in the young students minds, but that textbooks had no answers for:
"What were you not prepared for?"
"Does anything still surprise you?"
"Isn't that a lot of people to be responsible for?"
"Don't you get scared?"
"Don't you get lonely?"
"Once you've been out there how can you ever stand to come back?"
A few questions trickled in for Spock as well, mostly easily answered factual ones from a knot of science students. One particular one from an older student raised his brow.
"With everything out there, doesn't your 'science' ever fail you?" Asked the young man, a blatant and slightly malicious challenge in his voice. He had a hard face, and clear blue eyes. In many ways he could have been a young Kirk, for they shared that classical handsome face, but there was no kindness written in this youth's body language. He was likely one of those military types that still believed deep down that they'd be better off killing alien races than studying alongside them.
Spock saw Kirk stiffen and open his mouth to correct the young man's behavior, so he spoke before Kirk had the chance.
"No." He stated simply, letting it hang for a moment before continuing. "I have encountered things that defy our current systems of measurement and classification. Things that nearly defy conscious understanding. Current methodology almost never fully encompasses the needs of new life forms. But in all that, science has never failed me. Science, despite what many may see of it, is not numbers and instruments and records and theories. Those are merely the trappings and tools of science. Those frequently fail, and there is no higher distinction a scientist can accheive than to prove one of our extant theories wrong and obsolete, so expanding our collective knowledge of the possible. But that is not a failure of science, that is a victory. Science is a set of unbiased processes that we as thinking beings use to understand the functions of the universe. And that way of thinking can only fail if it is actively defied for a more closed minded and fearful approach to the new."
It seemed his response had settled some kind of interdepartmental debate, for the young man sat down looking rather put out, as the entire knot of science students in the middle of the hall burst into applause and cheers, on or two of them even jeering at the asker. His young Vulcans, seated among this knot, did not applaud in the human way. Their hands, instead, tapped against their uniformed chests softly, the fabric of their uniforms sparing their hands the blunt striking force of applause. And this behavior seemed, he was glad to see, to be perfectly acceptable to their peers.
Much had changed from his own academy years.
And so on went the presentation, Jim answering direct student questions, no matter how bizzare, to the visible discomfort of the front rows of brass, and giving special attention to the young and curious. At some point, someone had brought out two chairs for them. Spock gladly folded himself neatly into his, Jim, however, kept to pacing the stage and sitting on the edge, ignoring the chair altogether.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
Come on, Jim. You’ve got this. 
With one last glance at his First Officer, Kirk bit the bullet, walked across the stage, and took his place at the podium. 
The crowd was dead silent. Good god! A group of Vulcan Ambassadors would have more pep than this. 
The Captain looked down at his notes, and shakily read off the first prepared joke. 
“You know- the uh… last time I set foot on this stage, it was because I’d graduated by the skin of my teeth! They couldn’t wait to get me out the door! ” 
Aside from a smattering of stifled laughs coming from the back of the crowd, the place was as lifeless as ever. 
Oh boy. 
Kirk looked down to his speech notes- full of harmless little anecdotes and quips. And quickly, without thinking, he crumpled them up, and tossed them over his shoulder. 
“Alright, look. I’m– no Abraham Lincoln. I’ve…. never had much of a knack for these types canned presentations. But I understand that many of you, if you’re anything like me, long to be out there- seeing the stars. Exploring– learning.” 
“There’s… so much more out there than this. Earth, the Academy, your lives at home. Wherever you’ve come from, whatever you’ve known– multiply it by…. a thousand. No- a hundred thousand! That’s how many different cultures, ways of living, are out there.” 
Jim pulled the mic from his stand and abandoned the podium all together, opting to sit on the front of the stage with his legs dangling down into the first row. 
“I… know I’m kind of going against precedent here, but instead of giving a speech, you know, I’d really– uh, like to take your questions. Outside of information that’s classified by the ‘fleet, I’m an open book.” 
Glancing to the side of the stage, Kirk was hit by an immediate thought. “Oh! And Spock- Spock if you could come out here. We— we, uh don’t need the slides anymore.” 
“My First Officer, Commander Spock is here today as well. First Vulcan in the fleet. A… wickedly intelligent guy. Spock, if you wouldn’t mind answering some student questions, I think you’d have a really good perspective to share as well.” 
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As soon as they hit the auditorium, Spock made his way back to the projector, setting to work queuing up the photographs and slides the corresponded to various segments of Jim's speech, keeping his head down. Truth be told he was still a bit unsettled by his OWN reaction to the Doctor's mistaken comment. No... That wasn't quite accurate. His response was not to the doctor's words, but to Jim's immediate refusal. It felt like a private insult....and he didn't want to think about that anymore. He shoved it back down to instead order Jim's slides....which had, of course, been packed out of order.
He was struck with a bolt of fondness for his Captain's particular variety of chaotic hypercompetence. He was also struck by the notion that Jim, ten feet ahead of him, was very still. He lifted his head, and found his captain was looking back at him, and looking almost scared. A single glance at the crowd was all Spock needed to realize why....they were, in a word, adversarial. And they looked miles from welcoming. He was nearly struck with flashbacks to his own chilly graduation presentation review on Vulcan.
He met Jim's gaze again, and, very slowly, he smiled. It was a small smile, and likely went unnoticed by anyone less attuned to his facial movements than his captain, but it was a familiar smile. It was the smirk he usually wore in the moments just before victory on the Enterprise. When he knew Jim had everything figured out, before he even spoke his brilliant solution. When the villain of the day had been beat and was just about to realize it. When the ship was saved in the last second. And he knew Jim knew exactly what it meant; "You've already won this, Jim, they just don't know it yet."
It seemed to have the desired effect, for the Captain's face lightened, and he stepped into the bright auditorium lights, as the house lights dimmed. Spock cued up the first of the slides, and peeked through the curtains.
Jim commanded the stage with the same ease he did a starship.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
Jim could only be thankful that the Doctor was more than happy to lead the conversation as they ambled towards the lecture hall. Truth be told, he felt more than a little embarrassed about that introduction. Of course, it was an honest mistake– Kowalski hadn’t meant anything by it. But this wasn’t the first time someone had mistaken Spock for Kirk’s… well, his– 
Uh– 
Right. 
Thankfully, Jim was pretty sure the whole conversation flew straight over Spock’s head. The Vulcan was a genius when it came to figures, facts– but intimate relationships? Why, Spock was the type of man, who if you sat a girl on his lap, he’d bide his time cataloging the frequency of her heartbeats. Spock was funny like that. 
But hell, Jim knew he had to get the whole matter off his mind– he had to get through this damn lecture in one piece. 
The Doctor ushered them into the auditorium, and – ah— 
Did this place get bigger since he last was here? 
The room was huge– almost the size of a football field. His audience numbered in the thousands, hell, maybe even in the tens of thousands. A line of admirals sat at the front, nearest to the stage. And as they were ushered forward, Kirk could see the visible displeasure written on their faces. 
And there, second row- look it was Professor Johnston. Jim’s first year as a cadet, Johnston had loudly declared in front of an entire class that Kirk would never amount to anything more than a mindless grunt. 
Jim glanced back at his First Officer… with just a hint of stage fright. 
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"How's Martha and the kids?" Was a strong indicator that the hymns were about to engage in the every present ritual of polite small talk. Spock struggled with that particular ritual. He was not good at generating inane chatter. But in this situation, however, he knew he would be spared from enforced participation. The captain had, over the past 2.313 years, developed the habit of speaking FOR Spock, liberating him from these small, meaningless, but oddly taxing, social interactions. Kirk, however, thrived on such things, and Spock was more than happy to simply observe the Captain, as he grinned with genuine interest at even the most irrelevant conversational offerings.
Spock was not fully engaging in the conversation, letting the words simmer on the back burner of his attention as he surveyed the crowd of students gathered in the outdoor space, noting that the makeup of the school had become decidedly more diverse, though he still saw no Vulcans among them, when he became abruptly aware of the Captain going tense beside him. His attention snapped back over to the conversation at hand, ready to address whatever threat had caused Jim to loose his easy manner so abruptly.....but for the life of him he'd had no idea what had happened. The captain seemed to have tensed for no reason when the doctor had inquired after Spock's presence, and his stammering reply was most uncharacteristic.
He fell into step a half pace behind Kirk as they set off towards the lecture hall, still running over the conversation he'd heard in his head, looking for what could have possibly caused such abrupt discomfort, but coming up frustratingly blank. Nearly thirty seconds later it dawned on him, and it was his turn to abruptly stiffen. Like any bilingual, Spock was a better communicator in his native language, and so couldn't have been faulted for missing the rather subtle implication of the word "partner" as it had been used in context. Partner. A human euphamism for Romantic Partner.
His heart stumbled a beat in his hip as he loped along behind the two smaller men. The doctor had assumed they were romantically involved.
That produced in Spock a feeling he did not understand and did not want to deal with. But for some reason, as he damped down the feelings to sort later, he heard Edith Keeler's voice in his head; "at his side. As if you've always been there and always will be."
Romantic partners. Preposterous. His place was at his side supporting his captain. And Jim was a remarkably attentive Captain. To all his crew members, not only his first officer. Of course the humans read too much into what was merely an example of an exemplary crew relationship.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
It had been years. 
What– six, seven years at this point? 
To tell the truth, Jim couldn’t really remember the last time he had made a visit to Starfleet Academy. He’d been a student here once— and a lecturer too. But as soon as he got that (hard-won) transfer order, he was out the door faster than you could say ‘congratulations’. 
And he wasn’t planning on coming back today, not really— but he owed Dr. Kowalski a helluva favor after that time with the Andorians. And so, Jim Kirk found himself in the Academy’s hallowed halls once again, as a guest speaker on Starfleet’s exploratory programs. 
Now, the Captain was a man who knew his own strengths and weaknesses. In enemy crossfire, Kirk could give a speech to rival King Henry at St. Crispin’s day. But at a podium? Well, he really tended to bumble along– over-prepare. 
And that’s why Jim insisted that Spock come along. Help him out where he stumbled. The Vulcan was strongly suited for academia, and Kirk knew he could depend on the other man whenever his own words fell flat. 
“All right there, Spock?”  
The Captain reassuringly clapped his First Officer on the back as they beamed down to the surface. It was just an hour long presentation. What could possibly go wrong? 
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Spock adjusted the hem of his sleeves down for the sixteenth time since he'd put on a freshly pressed uniform one hour and 6.261 minutes ago. He knew the action would prove to be mostly futile, as his arms, being proportionally .067 percent longer in comparison to his torso than even the most disproportionate humans, would always be a bit too long for the standard uniform sleeves and so he would always show 1.281 more centimeters of wrist than anyone else in the uniform. He knew the notion was foolish, but he could not help but be acutely aware of the way the bones of his wrist were exposed and he was consumed with the illogical impulse to cover the spiny juts of bone that stretched his sallow skin in subtly inhuman ways.
There was something about the return to the academy that always rattled his now-well-honed control. As the son of a human woman, of course, he knew he was subject to the sensory memory triggers that drove much of her species, and, as it were, the smells and sounds of a place so associated with the volatile years of his late adolescence could serve as an uncomfortable subconscious reminder of an uncomfortable time. But it felt more appropriate somehow to use the human turn if phrase; "there's just something about the place."
"I am always, as you like to say, All Right, Captain." Spock eventually replied, switching the bag containing the Captain's slides and notes to the opposite shoulder so he could walk closer, leaning precariously to keep himself away from a throng of loud, laughing students who flailed their arms about with no regard for who or what they may be touching. "However I still am not entirely sure of what my purpose in your lecture will be. You are a more than adequate speaker. I cannot imagine you needing my assistance in any significant way."
@firstofficerhobgoblin
It had been years. 
What– six, seven years at this point? 
To tell the truth, Jim couldn’t really remember the last time he had made a visit to Starfleet Academy. He’d been a student here once— and a lecturer too. But as soon as he got that (hard-won) transfer order, he was out the door faster than you could say ‘congratulations’. 
And he wasn’t planning on coming back today, not really— but he owed Dr. Kowalski a helluva favor after that time with the Andorians. And so, Jim Kirk found himself in the Academy’s hallowed halls once again, as a guest speaker on Starfleet’s exploratory programs. 
Now, the Captain was a man who knew his own strengths and weaknesses. In enemy crossfire, Kirk could give a speech to rival King Henry at St. Crispin’s day. But at a podium? Well, he really tended to bumble along– over-prepare. 
And that’s why Jim insisted that Spock come along. Help him out where he stumbled. The Vulcan was strongly suited for academia, and Kirk knew he could depend on the other man whenever his own words fell flat. 
“All right there, Spock?”  
The Captain reassuringly clapped his First Officer on the back as they beamed down to the surface. It was just an hour long presentation. What could possibly go wrong? 
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(THE MUSE LIVES!!!!!!)
"Two months, eleven days, and 14 hours." Spock replied, the softness of his tone and gentle, idle way his fingers grazed against Jim's scapulae somehow not at odds with the customary hyperpresicion of his reply. "The time dialation you experienced would likely have made the time seem longer from your perspective though."
He let his head drop to rest against Jim's cheek staring blankly at the wall behind him, just....being....in this all too familiar moment.
"Had I been in any other situation I would have been content to stay there for far too long studying the parameters of time distention and contraction in that universe. It seemed to be a will based nonlinear system centered on......" Spock realized he'd begun babbling, and the Jim who'd once contentedly listened to his carrying on was no longer here, so he pulled back just a little to look at the Jim that was.
"Forgive me." He said meeting his Captain's eyes, letting just a little bit of his weariness show on his face. These little expressions of human emotions had always calmed and comforted Jim, there was no reason to think that would change. "I am adjusting to this situation as well. I am comfortable around you, Jim. Too comfortable for your comfort with this new situation. I will, at times, slip into a habitual ease with you. But I will do my best to keep myself restrained to a less intimate way of moving, speaking, and living. I will pace myself as you see fit, Jim."
He stopped short, halting his thumb from idlely creeping up over Jim's collar to brush the back of his neck. He would have to readjust to sheilding and shuttering himself to keep their minds separate.
"There are some things we need to discuss, though." He said, letting his arms fall from around Jim's neck and rest beside him on the desk, but not pulling away. The warm comforting weight of his husband against him. Particularly the warmth. Jim must have turned the temperature down far below Vulcan comfort levels last night, as Spock was starting to get cold in the extremities.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
This… simple feeling of physical touch. For the life of him, Kirk couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d had a real hug. Must’ve been last week, before Antonia had left for her tri–
No. 
Antonia– wasn’t real. 
He… he kept forgetting. You know, it still felt as if she were just on a vacation- that she’d be back in a couple of days, with a bit of a suntan, and a great big smile. But despite the visceral memories he had in that cabin- winding her sandy hair around his finger as he came up behind her in the kitchen, a morning spent cuddling under crisp white sheets as sun streamed in through the little window above the bed, tripping over the dog’s bowl while getting dressed in the morning, only to have Antonia patch up his busted knee– it just wasn’t true. None of it. 
And it hurt, it really did. Worse than a breakup. To think that– not only would he never see her again, but she wasn’t even real to begin with. That all of the years they had spent down in that rustic cabin by the lake– it was all a trick of the light. 
Top that with the idea that this infinitely-patient Vulcan Spock, the crotchety doctor running endless tests on his brain, the stark metal walls and bleak fluorescent lighting of the ship– this was his reality. This is who he really was, well– really had been. And that he’d probably have to spend the rest of his days in a futile game of catch-up with his younger (apparently overachieving) self. 
It… would be overwhelming for the best of men. 
But Jim knew, he had to just… carry on. 
He was here, now. With two strong arms wrapped around his waist.  Holding him. Supporting him. And– it felt good. 
You know, the Vulcan– smelled of incense…. mixed with a little brass, and some type of curry he could not recognize. A bit alien to be sure– but somehow, comforting. Kirk didn’t know much about his past self, but if Spock had always been this… gentle, this exceptionally kind in his own funny sort of way- well, he could see how he would be drawn to the man. 
But how long ago had everything happened? How long had it been since this world was well and truly his? 
“–Spock.” Jim looked up at the other man with a little bit of a frown, not daring to break away from the embrace. “How long was I in there– the Nexus, I mean?” 
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Happy Birthday @luck-over-logic !!!!
To the most wonderful James Tiberius Kirk in the TOS RP community!!!!!
I've now known you for a year and change and I'm ever so very glad I ran into you!! The muse has been silent as the grave of late, but have some Birthday minific! I did Fourth of July Last year, so this year have Pride. And I hope I have to think of summer themes for you for many years to come!!!
________________
Spock liked talking walks during the hottest part of the day. Jim had always known that, but as they got older he began to realize the true implication of the habit. It meant that all damn summer Jim was going to sweat like a horse. Why it was only June 30th, and it was only 11 am, and he was only wearing a t-shirt and lo and behalf he was damn near soaking through it, and was starting to get a little self conscious about the fabric clinging to what it aughtn't, and really he probably shouldn’t be wearing shorts at all at his age, and he wouldn’t have if it wasn’t so hot; he just wasn’t as trim as he’d once been. Bones had taken to calling him good old fashioned fat. He stared at a well built young man in short shorts and a painted on tank top, chatting loudly on his phone as he jogged past them, clearly late for something. He remembered when he looked like that….
“You look perfectly fine to me.” Spock said softly, giving Jim a start. But he smiled at the sentiment. Spock could read his mind even when he wasn’t….well….reading his mind. But he could be a little frustrating when it came to looks, for even in this weather he looked dignified in all blacks and greys and never a day over 50.
Spock reached down and squeezed his hand. Jim, as always, squeezed back, returning the gentle pulse of adoration Spock had sent his way and they carried on.
A minute later a young woman bathed in pink, purple and blue glitter bounced past them, accompanied by a tall man in corresponding pastel pink, blue and white glitter. Spock observed them with quiet curiosity, that peaked when the sparkly pair met up with a girl wearing rainbow body paint, and little else at the end of the block.
“Human youth culture never ceases to amaze.” The Vulcan observed quietly. “Where could they possibly be going looking that conspicuous?”
But when they reached the end of the block and looked uptown, they got their answer. They were nearly bowled over by a wall of sound, emanating from a seething, screaming crowd of people flamboyantly dressed people, all congregated under a massive rainbow banner that read 'San Fran Pride'. Jim laughed aloud. Spocks eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his bangs and his grip on Jim’s hand tightened.
“I forgot about LGBT history month!” Jim said. Spock stared at him in a way that indicated his comment had in no way explained the multicolored cabal of glitter and feathers that had appeared before them. “Humans used to be kinda awful to each other, remember? And homosexuality used to be kinda an issue.” He explained.
“I am well aware of your history…” Spock replied, with a gaze canted uncomfortably towards the parade impling Jim’s explanation had not in fact explained a damn thing about the mass of humanity doing their best impersonation of so many birds of paradise. Just then the obligatory Stonewall float passed by, and that was how Jim Kirk found himself shout-explaining the history of pride, from riot, to protest, to party, to historic commemoration, a few feet from the current incarnation of the event. The era when it was a protest. When corporations tried to take it. When it was declared a History Month, like it always should have been. Spock listened with his typical intensity, regarding the display of flamboyance with changing opinion and increasing regard as Jim spoke.
He was just beginning his own tale of “Why, I remember my first Pride. I was about seventeen. I hadn’t quite figured out what I was feeling for men yet and my friend from……..” He trailed off as a float grabbed his eyes and stole all his attention.
The Starfleet sponsored float was topped with a beautiful starship made of iridescent sequins, and the float below was covered in pictures honoring LGBT figures from Starfleet history. The First Homosexual Captain. The First Trans Captain. The first Asexual Captain. But Jim's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the fifth photo.
The youngest Captain on Record. And his First Officer.
“Now you see here!” He hollered so loud that everyone in the vicinity turned to look at him. “I’m not history yet! I’m still right here!”
Everyone around them was staring, looking back and forth between the oversized image in the approaching float and the pair of old men standing in the back of the parade crowd. Finally someone declared the obvious.
“Holy shit…..it’s them!!! It’s Captain Kirk and Commander Spock!!” someone yelled.
“Admiral and Captain.” Spock corrected, but his insistence on precision was lost in the deafening cry of shrieks that rose up from the crowd around them, loud enough to draw the attention of the older man Marshaling the Starfleet float. The man, who neither of them recognized at first, immediately signaled for the float to stop and started waving like mad.
“Kirk!!!” He shouted, vaulting himself off the float with a spry leap that seemed inappropriate for his advanced years, and bolted to the edge of the Parade barricades. “Jim! Spock!”
It was Spock who saw through the rainbow wig and over the top makeup first. “Captain Sulu?”
“Yes!!!” He shouted back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? You’d have had a place ON the float!! C’mon! Get up here!! C’mon guys!! Let the infamous Captain James T. Kirk and Commander Spock up here with us!”
Jim tried to insist that they hadn’t planned this at all, but his words of protest were lost in the happy cries of the crowd as they shuffled him and Spock forward and helped them climb the barricade into the parade proper, where Sulu took the Captain’s hand and yanked him up onto the float as it started moving again. Spock, who was still, clinging to Jim’s arm, got dragged along with and was surprised to find himself and Jim’s presence getting aggressively cheered.
Sulu immediately began fussing over their appearance, swapping out Jim’s t shirt for a multicolored tank with the image of a frying pan on it that they both found hilarious but Spock found confusing. Spock, to his great displeasure, had a tub of glitter dumped on him after he’d selected for himself on a small, tasteful button that read “Elder Queer” from the box Sulu had pulled Jim’s new shirt from. But once the parade got going again, they both had to admit that the energy was infections. And people were so very happy to see the pair of them, Riding together astride the great glittering starship float.
“You mean so much to them.” Sulu beamed at the pair at one point. “Not just the gay couples….but the interspecies couples. The offworld queers. You’re icons to them. And watching the two of you, always at the forefront…..you give them so much hope.” After that comment Spock was a little more visible about his affections with Jim, even managing a human kiss when they reached the grandstand.
And Jim? He was having the time of his life, playing back and forth with the crowds, throwing out rainbow Starfleet insignias, and rousing cheers every time he touched Spock. Gone we’re his previous doubts about his age. His looks. Everything. As he so eloquently put it…he wasn’t history yet.
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Captain Pike greeted him when he beamed aboard, hand outstretched attempting to shake Spock's. That habit was just so intrinsic to them that they never considered it twice. So Spock stepped off the transporter pad with his hands folded behind his back and kept them resolutely there until he saw the realization in Pike's eyes and the other man's hand dropped. When it did, the dark haired woman beside him raised her hand, executing the salute perfectly. The older man with them laughed at the slight embarrassed flush on the captain's face. The woman and the man, they must have been Captain Pike's first officer and Chief Medical officer. They were retiring as a team.
By the sands, he didn't think he ever inspire that kind of loyalty in a crew.
The older Captain was a kind man, but tired in the eyes, and his advice to Spock was brief: "Treat them well and they'll always have your back. But they're tight knit and they'll be a tough bunch to win. But we all love our silver lady. If you do too, they'll come around. Good luck."
And then he was gone, and Starfleet's first non-human captain stood alone in the transporter room, with only the transporter operator staring at him.
"The officers are waiting for you in the hall......Captain."
"Thank you, ensign....?"
"Ensign Zacchary Taylor, Sir."
"Ensign Taylor."
The young man seemed to struggle to call Spock Captain, and the Vulcan was emotionally aware enough to realize that the exchange was, in a human word, awkward. With a centering breath, he stepped into range of the doors sensors, and stepped through. True to the ensign's word, outside the door a line of officers waited, whispering to eachother, but they fell silent as soon as they saw him.
They were a young bunch, Spock observed. Only two of their number looked older than he. That was a small blessing. But he did note a certain xenophobic discomfort on at least three faces. It could have been worse.
"Good afternoon, Officers of the Enterprise." He began, speaking clearly, but just quietly enough that everyone had to pay rapt attention to hear him. It was a trick he'd learned from his mother. Humans were fiercely independent creatures...and if one wanted them to listen, on often had to convince them it was their idea to listen in the first place. "I am Captain Spock of, as I suspect a few of you noticed, the planet Vulcan. I am honored to be assigned to this ship with this crew for our upcoming five year journey, and, based on the word of your former captain, I anticipate a productive mission. I understand you all have recently returned from a year mission with Captain Pike, and, as I understand you have limited time on your Home planet, after we have been introduced you are dismissed on shore leave by my request until 900 hours three mornings hence, in time for our departure that day at 1200 hours. Enjoy this time on my behalf."
There was a happy ripple among them. This extra leave on their home planet mist have felt like a gift, but it was a very calculated move on his behalf. It gave him time to learn the ship intimately, so he would never look incompetent before his officers. It gave him time to learn and win the loyalty of his lower officers and ensigns without complicating their attachments to existing officers. And it meant that when he began working with his bridge crew, it would be with the immediacy of a mission, allowing no time for idle gossip,in fighting, and suspicion. And it made him more likeable. Which was always a plus, given the fact that humans did not find his people likeable at all.
He turned his gaze to the first officer in line. His first officer and Science Officer, one James Tiberius Kirk. He was young for a first officer, but had an excellent record of service and a very keen mind. Commander Kirk was a short man, with golden skin and golden hair and a sparkling, slightly crooked smile. He was, what the humans called, a golden boy. And they were onto something in his case, there was something disarming about his open gaze. But he didn't reach out to Spock. Instead he raised the ta'al and clumsily stuttered out the traditional greeting in Vulcan. It was in the wrong tense, but the effort, and the crooked grin it was delivered with had an effect on Spock. He raised the ta'al back, and his first officer introduced himself.
"I am honored to serve with you, Commander." Spock replied. And he meant it. His first officer's eyes flicked curiously up to the point of spock's ear, eyes widening a little.
What a curious one.
The next officer down the line, however, was trouble.
"Leonard McCoy, Cheif Medical officer." He said gruffly, and thrust out his hand for Spock to shake it. Spock folded his hands pointedly behind his back. The Cheif Medical Officer thrust his hand into Spocks personal space, nearly grazing his stomach. Spock didn't step back and didn't relent. He recognized what the humans called a "power move" when he saw one.
The first officer elbowed the medical officer in the ribs with considerable force, and the Medical officer tucked his hand behind his back and nodded politely instead. He was going to be a unique one.
No one else challenged him, though the navigator and engineer both seemed a little unsure and definitely distrustful. He received a very enthusiastic greeting from the communications officer, however. She jabbed on happily at him in Vulcan. She apparently had a special interest inhis language. She would be a great asset.
And then they were all dismissed and gone, though he heard the medical officer complain to the engineer on his way out about being "unable to trust a man that wont shake your hand".
With his command crew off on their leave, he made his way slowly through the silent, empty vessel, exploring her with his eyes and fingertips. She was an extraordinary machine, top of the line, and powerful. This would be his home for the next five years. And he found himself more than satisfied.
He entered the silent bridge, not bothering to command the lights to full. He could see adequately at the 15 percent night setting. It hardly seemed real. After all this time. After the academy. And his father. And Michael. And despite it all here he was, on the bridge of a starship. His starship. For the next five years this room would be his command center. His life. Reverently, he settled into the captains chair, letting his long fingers splay across the buttons there; it was rather like having the entire world at his fingertips. He liked it.
"Computer. Activate screen." He said quietly. And at his word, the dark screen in front of him whirred to life, displaying the vast expanse of space that the docked enterprise was staring out into. For five years, they would move out, into parts of space that had been uncharted by any known being. He could feel his heartbeat quicken in his hip, and for a moment, he was a child again, the same child who sat out on the edge of the desert at night, asking his mother what existed in the spaces between the stars.
"Why dont you find out and come back and tell me?" She said.
And here he was.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
The reports were true. And Jim couldn’t be more excited. 
The very first Vulcan Captain in Starfleet was going to be posted here- on the Enterprise! 
Kirk had only met a Vulcan once in his life– back at Academy, a guest lecturer in his third year. The man had been stiff (as was probably to be expected), but once you got him talking about molecular biology, hell, he could go for hours without taking a break. And unlike a lot of the professors, Lecturer Stevak had no qualms with tutoring his pupils outside of class hours, even if it cut into his own free time. 
And if this Captain Spock was anything like Lecturer Stevak, well, this five-year mission would prove to be an invaluable wealth of knowledge. 
But even though his own excitement, Kirk wasn’t naive enough to forget that many of his fellow officers had a much different view of the situation. Pike had been a great Captain to serve under, after all– always offering a welcome smile, a friendly pat on the back whenever a crewmember did something commendable. He was warm, engaging- a good leader, and a great listening ear. And a Vulcan– well, that wasn’t their style, was it? 
But, like it or not, the decision had been made. And Captain Spock would be beaming aboard the Enterprise for the first time this afternoon. 
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The force of Jim's hug pulled Spock straight off his chair, and to his knees in front of the captain, trapped between his legs and squished in the circle of his arms. It was alarming, to say the least.
And it was wonderful.
He was home here, encircled in his lifetime partner's soft arms. It was homey and familiar and comforting in a way that Spock hadn't even realized he needed. And oh how badly had he needed it. 'Of course you do! You are half human of me!' He could very nearly hear Amanda reminding him with an exasperated tut. So he gave in to Jim's needy human touch, resting his head on the gentle slope of Jim's shoulder and sliding his arms up and around Jim's sides to rest over her shoulder blades, pulling Jim against him.
But then he felt a flicker of concern, and hesitation, and his partner abruptly pulled away, leaving Spock strangely cold and kneeling like a fool of the floor of their quarters.
Jim was apologizing.
Jim was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the best man Spock had ever had the privilege to meet.
"The timing was rather unexpected." He said, rocking back onto his haunches, trying to meet Jim's gaze, but the Captain's eyes were stubbornly trained on the floor. "But the gesture itself was for from unwelcome, and much needed for the both of us. Perhaps, with your permission, we could try again in a more comfortable manner?"
He stood, took a moment to compose himself, and offered his arm to Jim, helping him to stand as well, and turning him around so that Spock could learn on the desk and be a few inches shorter. He gently pulled jim close to him, guiding the captains arms around his ribcage, so they'd clasp in the back and nudging Jim's head down to the place just between his collarbone and the apex of his shoulder where Jim liked to rest. He draped his own long arms around Jim's shoulders and pulled his partner tight against him, till he was aware of the swift human heartbeat against his sternum. He rested his cheek against Jim's temple. This is right. He thought. This is home. I am home. He tried to broadcast as much of that to Jim as he could through the places where their skin touched.
"I belive this is much more conducive to both our needs." He said aloud giving Jim a little squeeze.
And he felt Jim relax a little. The muscle in his jaw slackened. His shoulders dropped a few millimeters, and the tight ball's of his hands unclenched.
"I know that you are scared, Jim." He continued softly. "I must confess, I am scared as well. But I also know that we have been through so much worse, and we persist, Jim, Always."
He loosened his grasp just enough to coax his captain's head around and meet his golden gaze. "I, in a way, have been given a gift, Jim. I will show you who you have been, and you will finally be able to see yourself as I see you."
@firstofficerhobgoblin
Jim began to feel shaky (and more than a little dizzy) as Spock spoke. He… well, it may be naive to say it, but part of him had been hoping that he’d be able to… carry on with his old life. To pick up wherever he’d left off. 
But the Vulcan’s words confirmed his suspicions. That he’d never really be the Captain James Tiberius Kirk, the one these people looked up to. The one these people needed. 
He’d… failed them. And even though Kirk didn’t remember his own past, his own life here, the sense of duty was still there. 
“I’m not--” 
Against all good judgement, he could feel the tears welling up in the back of his throat. Jim took a harsh swallow, in a failing bid to hold them back. 
“I’m scared.” 
The blunt honesty was brutal, and perhaps a little uncharacteristic. But Kirk felt more vulnerable than he had in a very long time, and just needed someone to– 
– someone to ground him. 
Without thinking, without really knowing what he was doing, Jim reached out to Spock, and pulled him in for a bear hug. He needed the physical contact. Just to feel… like he was really someone. That he had two feet on the ground, and that it would all be alright. 
But then, after a few moments, Jim’s thought process had caught up to him. He’d… probably made Spock uncomfortable. Just– going in like that… 
The Captain pulled away, more than a little ashamed. Not daring to meet the other man’s eye. 
“– I should have asked first. I’m sorry. I– it’s been one hell of a week.” 
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Jim saved the moment with the practiced ease of a man who'd had to make that same intervention a few too many times. Spock didn't let himself entertain the momentary flicker of guilt that the thought brought on, he simply shouldered the bags and met Vanessa's eye with a gentle, appreciative nod as he raised the salute back in her direction before turning back to Jim.
His capt...partner's smile was also a little forced. This was no surprise. It didn't take an ounce of telepathic ability to pick up on the waves of hostility that the overdressed woman was broadcasting, and Jim was very good with people.
The elder Kirk brother, however, was beaming with a curious excitement that, again, reminded Spock terribly of a similar expression of Jim's.
"So, I'm guessing you dont have Christmas on Vulcan, Hm?" He asked, stepping a little too far into Spock's personal space. That must be a Kirk family trait, Spock mused. "Is this gonna be your first time? Cause we do a hell of a Christmas here on the farm! With all the fixing. Eggnog. Tree trimming. Sledding. Everything!"
@firstofficerhobgoblin
Stepping out of the hug, Jim turned back to his partner only to be met with– 
Oh. 
Ah– that wasn’t good. 
With practiced precision, Kirk inserted himself between Vanessa and Spock, mustering up an award-winning smile. 
“Oh– ah, I’m sorry I didn’t mention to you before– Vulcans like Spock, you see- well their hands are very sensitive. They don’t shake. Here–” 
Jim moved to stand next to Vanessa, spreading his fingers into a customary salute, and gesturing for her to do the same. He didn’t mean to talk over his partner, but well- she seemed unsure, so it was probably best to have a human make the introduction. 
“This is what they do instead. It’s a greeting. Little tricky to get used to- but hell, even I got it after a couple of tries.” 
Vanessa looked skeptical, but thanks to Kirk’s coaxing, she pulled her fingers into the unfamiliar position. 
Jim beamed as she performed the gesture, and clapped her on the back. 
“There you go! A natural. See, you just hold it up like this–” 
He raised his arm up, elbow crooked at a right angle. 
“And that’s the greeting. Now granted, I’m not as good at it as any Vulcan…” 
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Spock's eyebrow twitched up in a shadow of amusement at the sight of Jim's impassioned, slightly reddening face as he defended his own worth. He'd lost a lifetime of memories, but every ounce of his personality was intact, right down to the little chip that he would never acknowledge he bore on his shoulder, and that thought stuck Spock with the sensation of painful comfort that he was growing quite used to.
"Not useless, Jim." Spock replied. "Never useless. And at our age it was unlikely we would be sent out on anything less than formality missions, so the fact that you've forgotten the particulars piloting a starship is hardly an impediment to your daily function." He comforted, placing one upturned palm on the table, a quiet invitation, if Jim chose to take it. "However, you are correct in your assertion that you will be unable to resume your normal duties with Starfleet. The lifetime's worth of information that made you an invaluable resource in the classroom and the boardroom may not be recoverable."
Oh that sounded harsh. Too harsh. And the slight shimmer of disappointment and frustration that was shining in Jim's eyes was not something he could emotionally engage with at the moment, so he swiftly launched into the other things McCoy had suggested.
"But there are yet tasks at which you would still excel, Jim. You are a well known figure. Legendary, even, if one is given to romantic language. In the fields of recruitment and inspiration you may yet have great impact upon the fleet. The qualities that have always inspired loyalty in your crew still exist. And you are uniquely qualified to lobby on behalf of certain changes that would be beneficial to Starfleet's system to those sort of men who need to hear it the most. And if none of that appeals to you, you can always return home to Iowa where your farm awaits."
Facts and ideas were all well and good. But his partner was a human, Spock reminded himself. And humans need a different kind of reassurance when lost. So once again Spock found himself reaching out to make emotional statements that he barely had the stamina to back up. He leaned on and ly a hand on Jim's folded arm.
"I promise I will not let you ever be or feel useless."
@firstofficerhobgoblin
Jim nodded, settling into his chair in relief. He liked to meet other people just as much as the next guy, but to talk about things like this in a room full of total strangers, well, it was just too much. 
Now that he knew he wasn’t going to be shipped off to a home somewhere, Kirk felt he could talk more freely. Still, a burning question lay in his mind. 
“I… Spock… they’re— not going to let me be a Captain anymore, will they?” Jim looked up at the other man, not fully sure who exactly would be making that type of decision. 
“I… don’t think I should, I mean– when I was up there, Spock, it was all new. I’ve… all of those buttons and dials, I’ve never seen anything like that before.” 
The Captain glanced around the well-maintained cabin, before turning his attention back to the Vulcan, “–but I don’t want to be cooped up somewhere, like an old man! When I was in my exam, the doctor said I had the health charts of a fifty year old, even though I’m sixty three. I’m fit– I’m not useless, and I’m not going to sit around in bed all day playing checkers!” 
Taking a deep breath, Jim rubbed his temples before continuing. “I– just want everyone to know that I may not know who I am, or where I am– but I’m not useless.” 
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Spock took the file in hand with a cocked eyebrow. Of course, that performative gesture of surprise was for the benefit of the others on bridge crew. He knew exactly what was in the file, still, he took a peek just to be sure.
The transfer order. Cancelled. Perfect.
He returned to his duties with a certain self-satisfied air. Everything had worked out better than expected, and he was almost entirely sure he was the first person to have crossed James Tiberius Kirk that violently and survived. Of course...the Captain could always just turn to his secret weapon and make spock just....dissapear, but if he intended to do that, Spock reasoned, he would have already.
He found the captain's final chapter addition much later.
Buy me dinner. What in a sea of red sand did that mean? Extortion? A trap? Human social convention?
He checked their location in proximity to local communicationssatellites, did a few quick calculations regarding local time zones, weighed risks, and then, given to the gravity of any dealings with his brutal captain, dashed off a quick, but heavily encrypted, message to a recipient on his home planet.
- Mother, what does a human mean when they say "Buy me dinner first"?-
About an hour later, his screen lit up with a reply:
-It's a human romantic or sexual proposition, Son. It has very flirtatious connotations. Use protection and watch your back, dear! Have fun! -
Humans. Inexplicable creatures. But still, a flirtatious message boded well for the captains mood. So, he complied with the request, and his next message, drafted after a short bout of research into human flirtatious language, was sent internally:
-Captain, I have heard circumstantial rumours the shores of Trideca 12 are pleasant at this period in their solar year. Perhaps you would consent to join me for outdoor libations as specified in the final paragraph of your memorandum? S. -
He hoped he had successfully conveyed the flirtatious tone of his captain's note. He suspected, however, he had not quite grasped the nuances.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
The transfer order. 
Ah. 
He’d almost forgotten. 
With an over-dramatic sigh, Jim pulled up the document on his PADD, making a big production of firing it off to Command. 
“Here–” 
The Captain took three steps forward, crossing his arms. “You’ll get your copy in the morning. Or is that not enough for you, Mr. Spock?” 
“Now get out.” 
Jim only dared to breathe once the Vulcan was halfway down the hall. That tricky bastard. 
He sat down at his desk, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. There was a lot to think about. 
___
The next morning, Jim arrived on the bridge, reports in hand. Call him old fashioned, call him paranoid, but he liked to keep a physical copy of his critical documents, just in case. It was far too easy for someone to peek into his digital files if he backed them up on the ship-wide drive. 
The Captain settled into his chair, tossing the documents onto his lap. 
“Mr. Sulu, how quickly are we expected to arrive at this… Trideca 12?” 
“Current course… ten hours sir.” 
“Good, keep her steady at warp four. I don’t want to get low on fuel this far out of the quadrant. Mr. Spock–” 
Jim held up an envelope, marked “CONFIDENTIAL” 
True to his word, it was the transfer order, fully filled out and signed. With a minor addition. 
Page three- final paragraph, Jim had added a note in his characteristic scrawl. 
Buy me dinner first x 
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Drop a symbol for a headcanon
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Spock aquiesced easily. By now the word had spread about Jim's condition, and they we're drawing stares. Of course, no one would be so ruse as to intrude upon them, but Jim was a perceptive man; he knew every eye in the room was trying not to be on him. Besides, Nyota was sitting with Sulu only a few feet away, and, as much as he valued them both, he wasn't sure he wanted all the yet-undecided details of his life in the hands of the collective gossip mill that was the two of the them.
"If you would like to return to your quarters, Captian, we can continue this conversation there." He proposed.
Both Jim and Bones had left their trays on their table when they left. Spock lagged behind Kirks exiting back and madento grab them all...but found another pair of hands already doing the job. Raynd. She'd long since been promoted above these yeoman's duties, yet here she was.
"I got it." She said. Ostensibly she was referring to the trays....yet it seemed to run deeper. "You just....take care of him, okay? We've got this." Every eye in the room was trained on him now that Jim had gone. He tried to catch as many of them as possible with his grateful "Thank you."
He didn't manage to catch up with Jim in the hall, which was not an unpleasant development as it gave him a moment alone to center and focus himself before entering their quarters to see Jim sitting behind his desk, as if nothing had ever changed and they we're simply long over due for a game of chess. The familiar sight jarred him, banishing the meager calm he'd managed to gather. He seemed doomed to go through this whole experience while emotionally compromised. He sat down anyway, folding his hands on the edge of the table and meeting Jim's gaze with an empty expression.
"I hope you find this more suitable?" He asked.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
McCoy watched the exchange in uncomfortable silence. It was clear Spock could handle this thing himself. Why, then, was he asked to third-wheel? Probably best to get out now, before things got too… handsy. 
Clearing his throat, the Doctor pointedly checked his old-fashioned silver wristwatch. It wasn’t exactly a uniform piece, but at this point, there weren’t too many people in Starfleet willing to give him a hard time about it. 
“I– hate to cut this short, but I’ve got another patient in at two. I… better get going back down to the medbay.” 
Jim nodded once, and with some amusement, McCoy noticed that he instinctively looked over at Spock for guidance. 
“Look– I’ll be free later on tonight, if you want to keep this going. There’s a good bottle of whiskey in my cabin, if it’s any incentive.” 
The Captain’s face brightened considerably at the thought. Did he like whiskey? It certainly sounded appetizing. 
As the Doctor made his escape, Jim glanced around the room, catching a couple of crew members firmly trained in on the conversation. 
Kirk glanced back to Spock, biting his lower lip. 
“I…  look, Spock, can we talk about this somewhere a little more private? I– don’t know any of these people and I… well it’s just a lot to think about. “ 
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Spock lay his hands on the animal's massive head as he guided him back to the ground, accepting the waves of curiosity and fondness the creature was broadcasting, and returning his own impressions of friendship and calm. And Oscar took right to him, immediately calming and sitting at his feet. He scratched behind the animals ears and the dog whined happily.
"I do not mind, Madam." He replied. "I admit I have already developed a fondness for over-eager Kirk's." He said to her, eyeing Jim's back pointedly as Jim surged forward to greet his brother.
He too, stepped forward after Jim brought him up.
"An honor to meet you, George Kirk." He said with a slight bow in their direction. "Jim has often spoken of you. And I am honored to make your acquaintance as well, Miss Vanessa."
He sounded stiff to his own ears, but the other Kirk didn't seem to mind. He grinned a lopsided grin that was eerily similar to Jim's as he made his way down the stairs towards them. George and Jim hugged. Vanessa shook Jims hand and then offered her hand to Spock. He kept his hands folder behind his back and bowed again, and her eyes tightened.
He knew that look. His stomach tightened. He turned away again to get the bags, reminding himself in his mind that he was safe here.
@firstofficerhobgoblin
“Oscar!” Winona dropped her purse just inside the doorway, turning her attention to the dog. “Oscar- get down!” 
After a few more excited licks, the retriever retreated, opting to sniff their feet instead. 
“Sorry about that– he’s a good dog, but he get’s excited when there’s new faces.”
Jim grinned, reaching down to give the animal a scratch behind the ears. “Don’t worry about it, mom. We’re used to–” 
“Jim!” 
The Captain’s voice snapped up at the familiar voice, coming from the top of the stairwell. By god, he hadn’t seen George in, it must have been two or three years now! His brother looked just the same as he had, apart from the brand-new mustache he was sporting. 
“George!” Kirk took a couple of steps forward, rushing to embrace his brother in a warm hug. “How’ve things been in the colony?” 
“Sure not as interesting as what you’re doing, I’ll tell you that!” George laughed amicably. “I don’t think you’ve had a chance to meet Vanessa–” 
“Oh?” Jim looked up towards the top step, noticing a fashionably dressed young-woman. He waved to her, with a broad grin. “Oh! I’m Jim Kirk, George’s brother. This is my partner, Spock. Your first time to Iowa?” 
The woman looked between Spock, Jim, and George- her smile increasingly… forced. 
This wasn’t good. 
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"No." Spock said, crossing his legs in his seat in a rather bold defiance. "I will not leave this room untill I see that transfer order cancelled."
There was no challenge in his voice or face though. It was simple fact. He wasn't moving untill he got his assurance.
Of course, once Kirk took care of the order, he rose peacefully and gracefully, sweeping to the door and pausing on the threshold to turn back and say: "Good evening, Captian. I look forward to continuing our discussion once you have had time to think."
Once he was safely sealed in his own quarters, though, he gave in a little to the panic that had been threatening all evening. That had been a high risk manouver. But by the sands it had payed off somehow. He was reinstalled as first officer. He was, for the time being, safe. As safe as one could be on a starship.
And he'd finally done it. He'd touched his Captain's mind. Become one with him. And it was glorious. Nothing could have ever prepared him for that feeling. His child bond with T'pring had been weaknand turbulent. That he knew. But He had studied telepathic bonds in his youth when it was still a question no whether his half human body could support fully realized telepathic abilities, and he had read much about what melds should feel like. They were descibed as awareness the other. Not like that. Not like the inevitable conclusion. Like the coming together of two halves. He could still feel traces of the heat and light of the Captain filling him from inside out.
Two hours of cleansing meditation later, he could still feel the echoes of the captain inside him.
He slept fitfully. And for the first time since childhood, he dreamed:
He was bound upright to a massive wooden stake driven into the Sandy groud far out in the deserts of his home, dry kindled brush and sticks stacked haphazardly at his feet. He had been stripped of his robes, and his exposed skin painted with words in spiraling script. He couldn't read them. But he knew what they meant. Mind-tarnisher. Katra-pollutant. He knew what this was. He was to be burned alive, the barberic pre-reform punishment for inappropriate use of telepathy. But he was not afraid. No. He craved the flames. He needed their heat. Then, without any noticable source of fire, it sprung to life beneath him, the roaring golden flames consuming the kindling and wrapping their agonizing tendrils around his lower body. It consumed him. And it was agony. Pain seared through every inch of his body as the heat blistered his skin and peeled muscle from bone. But he liked it. The fire that consumed him hurt him in a delightfully pleasurable way. He wanted it. He needed it. He would gladly trade the air in his lungs for more of the glorious pain. The flames crackled in the Captain's low voice as even his bones were agonizingly consumed.
He woke suddenly, disturbed.
And put in a good two hours of meditation before arriving at the bridge at his predicated hour. When the captain finally arrived he met him with a blank face and no indication of the events of last
@firstofficerhobgoblin
Life. 
It was an unheard-of prospect. Humans in the Empire chose partners for many reasons– power, wealth, safety, or simply carnal desires. But partners came and went, and marriage was temporary. Something you agreed to until someone better came along. 
Jim supposed he could always kill Spock the moment he got tired of him. But it would be much harder once they were bonded, given that they would be sharing every thought. 
And while the idea of having such an advantage over the other crew was certainly tempting– the more he really knew about bonding, the more Kirk was aware that he wasn’t ready for it. 
But even so, Spock was worth having, in one way or another. And perhaps one day, he would trust the other man enough to really agree to it. 
For now though, the idea of giving up his privacy, his every waking idea, to someone so guarded… 
Jim needed to think. And not with two critical black beady eyes staring at him– analyzing every movement. 
“Get out of my cabin.” 
The words came without thinking. Jim stood abruptly, surer in them now. 
“Get out of my cabin, Spock.” 
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Happy birthday
Thank you!!
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It's beautiful!!!!
Thank you!!!!!!!!!!
A couple of days ago, @firstofficerhobgoblin let it slip that today is her birthday. I decided to put a little fic together to celebrate.
The Birthday
Chekov had been planning himself a birthday party for, well it must have been a couple of weeks now. Twenty three, a prime age– and the Ensign was certainly ready to celebrate. According to Scotty, the young man had beamed back from his last shore leave with about a grocery cart’s worth of liquors.
Jim, on his part, couldn’t help but be bemused by the whole thing. It wasn’t often they had a party on the ship, and well– after last weeks’ close shave with the Romulans, the rest of the bridge crew could use a night off.
As the remainder of Alpha shift drifted off of the bridge, and headed towards the celebration, Jim noticed his First Officer, still working diligently at his science station.
“Planning on stopping by tonight, Spock?”
The question was immediately met by a raised eyebrow. “Negative, Captain. I fail to see how my attendance would improve morale at the event. Vulcans do not typically celebrate our, as humans would call them, birthdays.”
—-
Spock didn’t attend the party. And to tell the truth, neither did Kirk. After all, this whole… birthday thing had got him thinking.
Starfleet officers didn’t usually celebrate while on missions, save for a small cake, or a bottle of wine. But Jim had had plenty of birthday bashes in his time, and he’d be damned if Spock didn’t get to have the same. After all, his First Officer was half-human. So, by that– well, logic, it would make sense that he should celebrate his birthday at least half the time, every other year.
Two nights after Chekov’s party, Jim assembled a hushed meeting in his cabin.
“… they don’t celebrate at all?”
“I was as shocked as you, Sulu. I… well I expected something a bit more stoic than what you and I might have, but to hear they didn’t do anything at all!”
“–they really are sticks in the mud, the lot of them.”
“Spock’s birthday is coming up soon– next month based on his crew file. I want to do something. Let’s…. have a party.”
________
And just like that, a plan came in to place. At Sulu’s suggestion, they set the tables up in the Arboretum. Uhura volunteered to dig through some Vulcan cooking manuals, and with Scotty’s help, they were able to program a few of the more ornate dishes into one of the replicators.
McCoy had initially grumbled about the whole idea, but any excuse to visit an exotic distillery and buy the alcohol for the event was enough to put a smile on his face. Chekov livened up the place with colorful balloons, streamers, and tinsel. Even Chapel and Rand got in on the affair- staying up late the night before to bake a birthday cake in the ship’s only convection oven.
And as for Jim, well his task was to keep the man distracted. Too… engrossed to see what was really happening behind the scenes. Perhaps… an away mission would do the trick. 
Yes!
It was perfect.
______________
After eight hours of digging through spore samples on the planet below, Jim, Spock, and two Science Lieutenants beamed back aboard the Enterprise. Just as planned, Kirk immediately received a message over the intercom.
“Sulu to Captain Kirk. Captain Kirk, this is Lieutenant Sulu.”  
Jim bit his lip to keep from smiling, as he leaned into the receiver.  “Kirk here– go ahead Mr. Sulu.”
“Sir, it’s one of the plants in the Arboretum. It appears, well it appears to be molting sir.”
“Molting?” Plants didn’t do that. Jim did his best to seem befuddled, “But Sulu–”
“I think you better come see this, sir.”
“Alright. I’ll be right down. Kirk out.”
The Captain turned to the Vulcan with a frown– “I’m no scientist Spock. You… better come too.”
The Vulcan followed without a word. Jim knew the question of a molting plant would surely peak his curiosity. They hurried down to the Arboretum, only to be met with… total darkness.
Spock, of course, immediately picked up on the anomaly. 
“The lights appear to have gone off Captain.”
Jim nodded, not even bothering to conceal the grin growing on his face. “You’d…  better turn them on then, Spock.”
Spock nodded once, clapping to order the lights up. Just then, a noise filled the entire garden, as 30 crew members jumped up from behind the plants, out from under the tables. 
“SURPRISE!!”
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