Chapter Text
Alpha shift dragged on Jim Kirk like he was being raked over hot coals and razor blades. The command team had been amazing, working like a well-oiled machine for the first nine weeks of their initial two-year deployment. The team, forged in the trauma of Nero’s attack, had handled both the excitement of a hostile first contact and the test of patience that was star charting with smooth efficiency. However, something changed three days ago and the tension on the bridge was intolerable. As the command team passed their stations over to beta shift Jim saw Yeoman Rand go over to Uhura as planned to try and handle that part of whatever had broken. Jim walked over to the science station and hovered a polite distance away as Spock efficiently completed turnover to the Lieutenant that ran the life-sciences division. Jim heard Spock say that he would be supervising a delicate experiment for the beginning of beta shift and would be unavailable for questions during that time, which was fine, but it altered Jim’s timetable slightly.
“Spock, a word in the ready room before you head down to the labs?”
“Yes, Captain,” Spock said with so much deliberate calm it could only be a mask. If Jim hadn’t gotten to know the man so well, or perhaps if Old Spock hadn’t bled so much extra information into his head when they melded on Delta Vega, he would miss the creases at the corner of his eyes that spoke of some kind of severe discomfort or high tension. It was all in the eyes with Spock, at least for negative feelings, and suppressed emotion certainly didn’t mean fewer preferences or opinions.
Vulcans, Jim found, loved to debate and were fond of employing technicalities and semantics as they did so. This was true of every Vulcan he met, and he had met quite a few. Their shakedown mission had included a brief stop at New Vulcan, and they had just visited the colony again three days ago when something threw his command team off. He understood why, from a psychological standpoint, they kept going back to the new colony. It probably gave the people there some comfort to have the Enterprise pick up surviving Vulcans, Vulcan animal life, or seeds of Vulcan plants from distant outposts between their exploratory missions and drop them off on New Vulcan. They would deny it as illogical if called out on it, Jim was sure, but having the people and the ship that kicked Nero’s ass in orbit probably made it easier for a lot of them to suppress their trauma. Jim knew he felt a little better when Vulcans were around, for the very logical reason that it was a team from a Vulcan science ship that found him and his group of half-starved kids sucking on tree sap back on Tarsus IV, a full month after Starfleet had come to check on the colony and found out what Kodos had done.
“So, we have a problem, and I don’t know what it is, but we absolutely can’t go on with the Science officer and Communications officer unable to say a civil word to each other,” Jim said when the ready room door slid shut. He pressed a button to engage a privacy lock that would take their conversation from muffled to completely silent even if they started shouting. “I don’t need to cite regulations to you, I’m sure, but to be perfectly clear fraternization among officers is acceptable so long as it doesn’t affect your duties and there aren’t any issues with consent or power dynamics.”
“Has Lieutenancy Uhura indicated that I have abused my power as first officer in our personal relationship in some way?” Spock asked, visibly taken aback. That alone showed how off-balance the man was, he would never emote so openly if he wasn’t already near the end of his rope. Then, he’d notice that he was emoting and get upset with himself for doing it. That was a big part of the problem, Spock's sudden spirals.
“No, no. Nothing like that has been suggested to me, though she is also having a very similar discussion right now,” Jim assured him, stopping himself just before he pat Spock on the arm. The man was having enough trouble without forcing Jim’s emotional state on top. He compromised by keeping his arm up to emphasize with gestures and trusted that if Spock wanted to feel Jim’s concern he would reach out and make the contact himself. “I have gotten some mild complaints from the Science and Communications departments, some of it backdated. It was just a bit of bad mood and grumpiness that they didn’t want to report at first, but the situation, whatever it is, seems to have reached an intolerable level when we visited New Vulcan. You are both snapping at people, not enough for any kind of formal complaint but enough that people are coming to other senior staff with concerns.”
“I see,” Spock said. Jim waited a beat, but that seemed to be all Spock was going to say.
“I’m giving you some options, and you can choose as many or as few of them you want. There is one thing I am going to have to insist on, though, and that’s you taking a day off-duty tomorrow. You’ve worked at least one duty shift every day since you came aboard, which is fine. I know how much sleep you need; I know how stressful it can be to do nothing when there is work to be done, and I know how helpful it can be to have constructive work to do when you are processing grief, but you’ve got something else to sort out.” Jim paused. After a moment Spock straightened his shoulders as if bracing for something.
“Understood, Captain. What options are you giving me?”
“Well, all those options have less to do with Commander and Captain and a lot more to do with Spock and Jim. I want you to knock on my bathroom door sometime tonight. Anytime, even deep into gamma shift. I’d just be doing some paperwork that isn’t all that urgent and having a quiet night in even if this wasn’t going on. When I open my end, you can tell me it’s your own personal business and then shut the door. That’s your first option, and I want to make it very clear that you can take it.” Jim paused again and waited until Spock nodded in understanding.
“Other options include but are not limited to: Playing chess without saying a single word about Uhura. Talking about whatever has you at each other’s throats explicitly. Talking about literature, ethics, culture, and so on that has fuck-all to do with Uhura. Talking about that sort of thing in a way that absolutely is about her except I can’t tell the difference between this option and the previous one because you give no personal details. Staying a couple hours or hiding in my room all the way through to your next duty shift so nobody can find you. Digging in my personal stash of non-perishables for some chocolate or alcohol and then letting me pack you back into your own room to sleep it off. Going down to the gym with me or Sulu for some hand-to-hand combat or to the armory for target practice. Inviting me over to your quarters instead for any combination of the above. And finally, asking me personal questions about Gary Mitchel.”
“Who is Gary Mitchel?” Spock asked immediately.
“Ut, uh, uh,” Jim vocalized without words. “That’s the sort of thing I only talk about in a personal living space, and in any case, I need at least one alcoholic beverage before answering.”
“Understood, Captain.” Spock seemed relieved that he wasn’t going to be forced to talk about whatever it was that went sideways, and he already seemed more relaxed than he had been since this whatever it was started.
“So, you’ll come knocking?”
“I will,” Spock replied.
“Good.” This time Jim did clap Spock on the arm, but only the briefest contact and Jim made sure he was focused on his concern and desire to support Spock when he did it.
-_-_-_-Later-_-_-_-
The knock on the door came earlier than Jim expected. Between Iowa winters, summers spent on space stations, and Tarsus, Jim was much more acclimated to environments colder than ‘Earth Normal.’ Still, he had set the environmental controls at exactly halfway between Earth normal and Vulcan normal, mitigating the heat by wearing his lightest civvies: a gray cotton tee and pale blue track pants that were soft enough to sleep in. Since he hadn’t been specific, the computer had also adjusted the lighting to have a warmer tone and the gravity plates to pull a bit harder. When he opened the door to the bathroom Spock was in some kind of black robe over black pants that carried a strong herbal scent. Jim was almost certain that meant he had been meditating.
“Hello, Spock,” Jim said, stepping back from the doorway so Spock could come in or not.
“Captain, Jim, I…” Spock trailed off for a moment, looking around Jim’s sleeping area before taking a step in. Jim just waited while Spock shifted from foot to foot, and maybe Jim should have spent the extra time to tweak the automated settings to be less noticeably different from Jim’s normally chilly preference. “I find that the error is mine, but do not know how to correct it.”
“You want to tell me what you did?”
“I have lived my life according to the Vulcan way, and Nyota was aware of this. I assumed she understood what that meant for our relationship, and that was my error. I believe our romantic relationship must end, but I believe we can be civil and work together without inefficiencies once some time has passed.” Spock was still standing very stiffly.
“I’ve got water, tea, beer, whiskey, and hot chocolate,” Jim said, wandering past the screen that separated his sleeping area from the rest of the room. He stopped at an alcove where a utilitarian induction hotplate was pretending to be a stand for a figurine of a mountain climber his mother had given him. Anyone would assume the alcove wasn’t a hoard of food, but just a display space for items related to his hobbies that people visiting could look at. At least so long as they didn’t start looking through it and realized that there was food or practical survival supplies hidden absolutely everywhere throughout the display - including MREs packed into the false bottom he’d cut into the built-in cabinet.
“Fifteen grams of pure refined cacao, as is usual in a standard 200ml mug of instant hot chocolate, is an acceptable serving in private. I find that drinking more than three servings in a day is inadvisable under any circumstance,” Spock said, taking a seat on the right side of the small couch built into the bulkhead. All the main furnishings in a starship had to be bolted down or they would cause untold destruction rattling around during maneuvers, but the sheer size of the captain’s quarters with its maple-wood accents was luxurious compared to the tiny shared spaces Jim had lived in most of his adult life. His sitting area was next to the hall door, facing the outer hull and the very tiny window behind his desk. The terminal monitor on Jim’s desk could be turned toward the couch if he wanted to watch something or take a video call while lounging on the couch. The alcove where he was fixing their drinks was next to the desk, one side of it formed by the lattice screen that divided the living and sleeping area. He’d chosen to have that wall done in simple metal latticework instead of a solid painted panel or frosted glass, the only aesthetic change he had made to the initial design. All told, his private quarters were smaller than the main family room in the old Riverside farmhouse, but it still felt like the lap of luxury to Jim. Spock’s quarters were a mirror of his own, structurally, though he had decorated his in deep reds and darker tones in a way that made them seem like very different rooms. Jim had only been inside once, after Spock had received a minor injury and Jim wanted to give him an in-person update on the rest of the away team. This was the first time Spock was in Jim’s quarters.
“You assume I’m not going to make it from scratch,” Jim replied with a wink, pulling out a quality bar of dark chocolate and a food scale. “Almond milk alright?”
“Affirmative; however, most synthesized dairy, as it is produced from ethically produced component parts, is also non-offensive to me.” Well, that was good news to Jim since he thought almond milk hot chocolate was chalky and difficult to mix. It also meant he could keep his emergency milk sealed and sterile. It made sense, the genetically engineered algae varieties that produced many of the base components for the synthesizers certainly counted as vegan. Most of the synthesized meats were a mixture of Terran red seaweed and Andoran freshwater krill, which he thought made it all taste a bit too salty, augmented with ‘real’ powdered egg. Most of the real cream on board was reserved for making desserts for special occasions, and the waitlist for real ice cream had already developed a bit of a black market around it that, as Captain, Jim pretended to be deaf and blind about. The kitchen did have real food and a single from-scratch meal option was served each day alongside the always-available synthesized alternatives. In short order, Jim had a pot of synthesized milk steaming and whisked in the chocolate shavings. He added a shot of whiskey to his own mug, to keep things fair.
They sat in silence and drank the chocolate on opposite sides of the couch. Spock sucked his down much faster than Jim could consume any hot beverage, which said quite a lot about the severity of what was going on in his head. The first officer’s eyes dilated, and he blinked more often with his third eyelid than the standard set in a way that tickled Jim’s hindbrain, but he otherwise seemed perfectly sober for now. Spock’s voice when he eventually spoke was as level as if he was explaining that he found a fish in a fish tank.
“You know I took Nyota down to the surface of New Vulcan while we were off-duty, and she returned shortly while I stayed the night. This is because my wife came to visit me while I was showing Nyota the newly built home I was assigned to.” Jim sputtered and coughed into the last of his drink.
“You want to say that again, with a bit more explanation?” Spock broke eye contact and looked at the small table in front of them.
“I was bonded, as all Vulcans are, at the age of seven after completing the necessary milestones, most notably the kahs-wan. It is more than a betrothal, but less than a marriage. Wife is the most accurate translation for who she is to me, though we have not yet reached the next stage of bonding, which would be more permanent,” Spock said, a bit of a cyan blush creeping up his neck and down his ears. “We are still young, after all, but with the loss of so much, many of our people are planning to have children soon.”
“You took your girlfriend to see your new house, and your wife came home,” Jim summarized. He also didn’t judge. There were all sorts of relationships and both Uhura and Spock were very private about theirs, that one public kiss Jim witnessed during the Nero crisis notwithstanding. “I take it Uhura wasn’t prepared for that for some reason.”
“T’Pring was visiting a starbase to advance her own ambitions, so she was spared during the Great Loss. I believe Uhura assumed she had perished, or perhaps thought that I was unbonded for some other reason.” Spock’s eyebrows dipped low, his lips pressed thin, clearly offended by the assumption. “My clan is prominent, politically powerful, and affluent. Should I have become unbonded for any reason, my dowery alone would have attracted interest not only from lesser families but from the other great clans, and I would not have been alone for long. Even after the Great Loss, I would have been paired swiftly.”
“All I know about Vulcan bonds is that they are very personal, a keystone of your culture, and that they are essential to your mental and physical health. I assumed you did have someone before Nero, but since you never talked about it, I figured it was off-limits for conversation,” Jim said, but then rushed to amend his statement because that wasn’t really true. “Except I know quite a bit about the t’hy’la bonds. The ones between warriors closer than brothers - or the modern equivalent of warriors, anyway.”
“Why have you researched that?” Spock asked.
“It wasn’t really research. When I was a teen, I stayed on a colony world for a bit and there was a natural disaster. A Vulcan science ship found us, got us patched up with medical care and all that. It’s a long, tiring story for some other day when tonight should be about you.” Jim waved the topic off and hoped that Spock would never think to ask again. “It’s just that there were two of the team that were so in sync, it was amazing. I assumed they were married and said something. It was meant as a compliment but didn’t come out that way. I learned real fast what was and wasn’t acceptable to say, and one of them explained the concept of t’hy’la to me as a distraction tactic.”
“It is a rare thing, forged in the fire of shared trauma or strife.”
“Two people in a rough spot coming together to get shit done, and then they just stay that way forever,” Jim found himself saying. “I thought Tom and me had something like that, at the time. He’d been my second through the whole disaster, but it didn’t stick. Turns out he isn’t oriented in my direction, and I made a fool of myself thinking we’d stay together once things calmed down. He got married a little while before I joined Starfleet. It was the first time we were all gathered on the same planet again, so it doubled as a bit of a reunion. Nice girl, they settled on a different colony and were making noises about maybe having kids sooner rather than later, but I haven’t heard any announcements. He’s in empirical sciences, focused on food yields and improving practical supply chain issues.” They were all a little messed up from Tarsus. Thomas dove head-first into the scientific fields most likely to ensure it never happened again and never looked back. The man was missing an eye, but he was the most whole out of all of them. Jim had been the most broken. It really wouldn’t have worked even if Tom wasn’t strictly heterosexual.
“T’hy’la can mean friend, brother, or lover - as well as any combination of the three. You are right that Vulcan bonds are very personal, and each is unique as each combination of individuals is unique. Most are as you say, brothers in arms who faced some great tribulation together and then remain close for the remainder of their lives. It isn’t necessarily a passionate bond, though from what I’m aware of most t’hy’lara combine their families into one household even when it is not passionate between them.”
“Neither is your relationship with your wife, as I understand it. By that I mean not necessarily based on physical attraction or passion, even if it could be, not that I’m making assumptions that it isn’t. Vulcan marriage is more about mutual support and mental compatibility than anything else, right?” Spock looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.
“Theoretically, yes, but in practice we have many of the same drives as humans when it comes to marital bonds, even if our custom is to have them arranged for us instead of choosing for ourselves. She had a guest with her when she was off planet. A man named Stonn, who is one of the many who lost their bondmate during the Great Loss,” Spock said quietly. “I had thought my relationship with T’Pring was at least pleasant and satisfying for her, as she was always welcome to visit me and I would go to her when my teaching schedule allowed. I denied her little.”
“Spock, did both of them dump you on the same day?” Jim asked carefully.
“May I have another cup of chocolate?” That was a yes. Jim got up made the next cup a little stronger but was careful to stay well shy of Spock’s stated limit of ‘under 45 grams.’
“So, the wife found out about Uhura at the same time Uhura found out about her, or was it Uhura being obviously in the dark about T’Pring that caused it all to come to a head?” Jim asked after handing Spock the mug. Their fingers grazed when Jim handed it over, which seemed downright deliberate on Spock’s end given how careful Jim was about not touching the Vulcans. Jim couldn’t blame him for wanting some telepathic sympathy. He’d be feeling pretty alone too if he’d been double dumped. Spock was also clearly enjoying the high now, slumped back into the couch instead of sitting straight and proper, with his lean legs stretched out in a lazy sprawl.
“The latter. Nyota’s shock at T’Pring’s existence was taken as a grave insult. T’Pring got into a shouting match with Nyota that quickly turned into Nyota shouting at me in the street. I have been able to explain to my clan matriarch that I have never denied that I was bonded nor treated T’Pring ill, and that Nyota should have been well aware that T’Pring existed given her claim of understanding most aspects of Vulcan culture including assuring me she was well educated about bonding practices.” Spock drank deeply from the mug and Jim gave him the time he needed to find the words.
“It is both pleasing and not that I was perceived as the victim caught between their illogical argument over my merits and person. My honesty has made it known that T’Pring was the first who became emotional, even before my human suitor. I did not intend for such a humiliation, and tried to take some of the fault, but the elders involved themselves and would not hear of it. According to them she clearly had been planning to have Stonn instead, over my dead body if necessary, and the tantrum she threw when she realized I may not always need her and may seek an amicable divorce instead of the humiliation she planned for me was both emotional and unbecoming. The damage to her reputation is significant, and Nyota also felt humiliated despite the unlikelihood that any human would hear a word about it.”
“I have to agree with you, Spock, you are in error. You absolutely needed to make it clear to Uhura that you had a wife back home when you started dating her, and you didn’t. You let there be assumptions where there needed to be certainty.” Jim quoted a line from one of the books they had been critiquing last week and punctuated the statement by poking Spock in the arm, just to make it clear that Spock was welcome to touch Jim if he wanted. They hadn’t had a lot of private off-duty interactions, so he wasn’t sure what Spock’s boundaries were. They usually met up in the recreation room for chess or a round of in-depth literature analysis and critique. It was good for the crew to see them getting along, especially given how they started out, and neither of them minded the spectators.
“I should have made the situation clear to Nyota.” Spock said with a bobbing, lazy nod.
“You have to say that to her, it’s a good opening line, but also you need to work in the word ‘sorry’ and possibly a gift,” Jim said.
“Jim, I am too inebriated to stand.” Spock’s words were still clear and clipped, but with the way he had melted into the couch Jim believed it.
“I didn’t mean right now, but soon. You’re off duty tomorrow, so you can find the time to sort it out once you’ve slept this off.”
“Yes, I am off duty tomorrow. That is a good plan.” Oh, yes, Spock was high as the clouds.
“So, you mentioned before that most of your people were planning on having kids as soon as possible. Were you planning to start a family before this?” Jim asked. Spock closed his eyes and made a low, keening sound. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive even for me.” Spock shook his head and his left arm flopped over toward Jim, grabbing at his bare forearm and tugging. Jim went with it, scooting closer on the couch. Spock slid his hand down to circle Jim’s wrist in a solid hold, and suddenly Jim could feel him. Humiliation, despair, loneliness… and a deeper sort of wrongness, some instinctual thing Jim had no word for that felt like where something should be but wasn’t.
“I was not, I want to focus on my career for some time. Even if T’Pring wanted a child as soon as possible, I can’t give her a child as I am, and all of the orphaned children were matched with eligible pairs already. Her ambitions have always been most important to her, and she made it clear before I agreed to be your first officer that she does not want a child at this time either because of those ambitions. She wants to become a political force and had great designs on the future of our people even before our loss. Nevertheless, there are some tests that are required whenever a bond is broken, and the results were… I could not believe it, and the elders were appalled considering her emphatic denial that she chose Stonn because she wanted a child. She claimed she wanted Stonn because my achievements and notoriety outshone her too much and made her own ambitions more difficult to achieve. She said she wanted a man who would support her and not seek his own glory, and Stonn can have her arrogance and selfishness.” Spock punctuated that statement with a wide swing of his right arm, but he sounded wrecked. His whole face was pinched and sad, and Jim could feel the other shoe about to drop as a nauseating disgust welled up in Spock. His words were slow and stilted, and Jim wondered how much of that was him translating thoughts in Golic to FSE and how much was the sheer enormity of the way his personal life had fallen apart.
“The new life growing in her had only grown for a dozen days or so, according to the test. She was unaware. Vulcans have deep control over our bodies, and the female does not ovulate without certain stimulus, but control only reduces the reaction and does not fully prevent it. Especially given our ages, it implies that she and Stonn had been prolific in their affair for an extended time.” Careful of cultural differences, Jim just tried to communicate via pointed thoughts about how messed up that was rather than make any effusive gestures. Spock’s hand on Jim’s wrist was still a live wire of connection.
“I have never been… How dare she, when I would have gladly… If she only asked, I would have allowed it, as she had given me that permission years ago, but she did not ask and said that the times we came together were more than enough for her needs. Implied, even just before the test was done, that it was my human blood that made me require carnal satisfaction so much more than she ever did, and that isn’t even true! I have never been the needy one, in any relationship I have had! It was always the other urging me into the bed!”
“It’s alright Spock, I believe you,” Jim said, certain that this was more information than a sober Spock would ever want to share with anyone. He wasn’t sure how sexual conquests were counted in Vulcan culture, but what he was getting from Spock through the open line into his brain was anything but pride at his list of bedfellows. A lot of mild harassment from a lot of pushy people accumulated over a lot of years. People who wanted him for the exotic thrill of it and nothing more, both from Vulcans that falsely assumed he had human genitalia — Jim stomped on his curiosity and told it to go sit in a corner, hopefully before Spock caught even the faintest hint of it — and humans curious about telepathy during sex.
At that, Jim’s mind went immediately to a Betazoid he’d dated who was way, way too much woman for him to handle. Feedback loops were awesome right up until the human involved wanted to get off the ride and couldn’t enforce that in any way but biting until the pain registered as a complaint rather than an encouragement. Jim, being a premie doused in enough subspace radiation to qualify as a mutant, wasn’t a flat zero on the psi-scale and he’d still had trouble getting a thought in edgewise. Spock made a noise that could have been an aborted growl and Jim realized that Spock had likely seen all of those thoughts. Jim turned his hand so he was also holding onto Spock’s wrist and they sat in quiet solidarity, trading hookup horror stories without saying a word aloud. It wasn’t very clear telepathy, nothing close to the meld Jim had had with Old Spock, but the fuzzy inebriated distance made it easier to trade their worst dating experiences. Any number of details might not be making it through, so there was still the sense of retaining some privacy despite the open sharing.
“I did try to reconcile with Nyota when I returned to the ship the next morning. She indicated she believed she was my first. I do not know if she meant first lover or first human lover,” Spock said when the timeline he’d been sharing with Jim reached Uhura. “The distinction did not matter then, and it does not matter to me now. Both are incorrect.”
Jim scoffed. “You’re twenty-seven, successful, and hot.” Spock agreed immodestly.
“I was too insulted to carry on with the apology I intended to give her, in fact I retracted the part of it I had already said, and so the situation escalated.”
“Do you want her back, or do you want it to end?” Jim asked.
“I do not know. I still care for her, but also, I still hurt.” Well, that sucked. It was hard to give advice when the end goal was up in the air.
“Probably depends on how she reacts to whatever you feel comfortable explaining to her once you are sober again.”
“That is accurate. She does not know the depth of T’Pring’s betrayal, though she may have realized she was being used by T’Pring to hurt me. Nyota beamed back to the ship before the divorce proceedings.”
“Was it all in one day?” They had been in orbit for four days, because some of the seedlings had developed a fungus in transit and Jim nearly called for a 619 because hearing crops and food supply and fungus in the same sentence made Jim want to curl up in a ball and scream. The only reason he held it together was that Spock was needed in his role as Chief Science Officer above all else. The plants, which Jim’s brain registered as rusty looking Vulcan bell peppers, were carefully nursed back to health with anti-fungal sprays and nutrient supplements in the irrigation. Each was given an individual double-check for any lingering pathogen on Jim’s order before being loaded into the shuttle. One of the Vulcan elders was helping supervise the process and said loudly ‘Captain Kirk’s obsessive dedication to ensuring our food supply is not tainted or destroyed is to be commended, not fought’ when somebody complained about the time it took to wave a tricorder over each and every vulnerable little seedling.
Now that he thought about it, Spock had probably stayed in the science labs as much as physically possible during those four days helping to get the job done, though he’d been given leave to sleep and spend as much of his off-duty time planet-side whenever they were in orbit of his new home planet. Something about ensuring that his internal sense of home was reset properly, and he avoided an unhealthy telepathic attachment to the Enterprise. When he first read it, Jim thought there was a mistranslation in that memo, and that maybe they meant a connection to the crew. However, he confirmed yesterday with Admiral Archer that Vulcan telepathy was straight bananas. He’d been told before they picked them up that the stoneware jars they delivered alongside the seedlings had souls of long-dead Vulcans in them. He’d understood it as the souls of the dead had been guarding the off-world seed banks the Enterprise collected. He’d thought that was just a religious belief like keeping the urn of a loved one’s ashes. Then, he’d been handed one to carry down to the planet as part of thanking him for his paranoia about the fungus thing, and then the soul in the jar struck up a conversation and thanked him for his compassion and diligence. Admiral Archer told Jim that he’d had a dead Vulcan’s soul in his body for a while before it was put back where it belonged. All bets were off after that; Jim assumed nothing about nothing when it came to Vulcan telepathy. If the Vulcan elders were worried that Spock would telepathically bond with the starship Enterprise and needed him to like his new house, then Jim would take that as the word of God and make sure Spock spent some time in his house.
Which would have to be a problem for another day because Spock’s first memories of his new house were objectively shit when the man had had reasonable expectations of a three-way. Just a pile of touch telepaths naked in a bed getting into each other’s heads, makes sense to Jim as a good way to get to know each other even if nobody got off from it.
“There is just the one city, and the elders wished to deal with the disturbance swiftly. I believe they wanted to set a precedent and our case seemed quite decisive. There are other couples who find themselves ill-matched now that circumstances have changed, but the perception is that they are the fortunate ones since their bonds are intact when so many have been broken. T’Pau indicated to me that she wanted to use my case to encourage them to find more fruitful pairings, and I gave permission for her to do so before the divorce began. It was broadcast locally, and the audio added to the public register. T’Pring very clearly did not want it to be open to the public at first, but after my reluctant agreement to the logic of it she thought that I was hiding something and clearly thought she could turn things in her favor. She never did understand that I simply do not like that kind of attention and spotlight.” Spock tipped the mug to look at whatever cold dregs were inside. “I should not have another.”
“I can get you something else. I’ve got snacks, too. No cashews, though, sorry.”
“I would not expect a food you are allergic to.” A wave of confusion came through their connected wrists. “You know that I consider cashews a comfort food?”
“You eat them with your next meal after any significantly stressful mission,” Jim said with a shrug.
“You pay great attention to everyone in the mess hall,” Spock said. Jim’s mind screamed not thinking about that right now, this week had been bad enough reminding me about it on the hour every hour. “I apologize for prying.”
“One day, maybe, if we’re on shore leave for a while and I can get trashed. I’d rather stay sober while you aren’t. I didn’t even tell Bones, just let him read my uncensored file after I named him my primary physician and then told him to shut up and stop asking until he shut up and stopped asking.” Spock let go of Jim’s wrist and Jim let go in turn. Spock pat his arm once before pulling away fully, and Jim felt a bit of kindness in that last touch. He had no idea what Spock had seen or felt from him just then, he couldn’t identify his own emotions let alone parse what may or may not have bled over, but he knew they were dropping the subject like a hot iron.
“I appreciate the opportunity to process this disaster in a manner that satisfies both of my heritages and will gladly reciprocate if you have a similar need in future.”
“You realize if I’d been double dumped I’d be doing shots, crying, and possibly breaking out into song. I know a lot of old ballads and as much as I love Classical music I can’t sing worth a damn.” Jim took the out.
“I acknowledge your human weakness and would summon Doctor McCoy to assist in the necessary rituals. Classical Terran music is strange to me, since it is meant to be enjoyed at a decibel level that is painful for the listener, but also quite compelling. Similar to pre-surakian music in some respects, especially the thumping drums that are meant to be felt as well as heard. Those have persisted in both cultures, even as every other aspect of the music and culture changed those are always present even if they are not always prominent.”
From there Spock and Jim launched into a long and meandering conversation about popular music trends and how it was both at the mercy of changes to the culture that wrote it and a shaper of that culture in turn. Jim even pulled up some songs from his personal collection as examples, keeping the volume at a level they could talk over. Spock recognized Nathan Wagner, which was one of Jim’s go-to pity party artists, and they ended up singing about feeling inadequate. Spock agreed that Jim had no singing talent and should never, ever subject the public to his tragic lack of vocal control. Spock sang like an angel, so Jim couldn’t argue the point.
It was deep into gamma shift when Spock’s dilated eyes started to regain their intelligent sharpness and his limp limbs began to resemble some sort of posture. Jim helped him up and, as promised, packed him back into his bedroom. Once Spock admitted that he really did stay up for four days working on the fungus and still had some sleep debt to repay he went willingly and with only a bit of a stumble, letting Jim tuck him in and generally being uncharacteristically tactile as he wrung the last bits of compassion and companionship out of the evening.
“We could be t’hy’la,” Spock said softly once he was in the bed. “I have never met a pair myself, and I don’t know the exact signs, but what I do know fits. We are brothers in arms, at least, and when the battle was won we came together again to seek other challenges together.”
“Maybe,” Jim said, thinking about another timeline where he was a better man and Spock hadn’t lost so much. Jim wasn’t going to kick him while he was down by pointing out that this was the bad timeline where every victory came with an equal loss, and they were afforded very little light and hope. “Goodnight Spock.”
“Live long and prosper,” Spock replied.
“Peace,” Jim said, pausing for emphasis since he was becoming less sure Spock had ever had any with every new thing he learned about the man, “and long life.”
He ordered his quarters back to their normal settings as soon as he returned to them. The sudden rush of cool air and change in gravity gave him a shiver, but he wouldn’t be able to sleep well otherwise and the dry heat was likely to give him a nosebleed. Jim was sure Uhura and Spock would be fine. She knew that Vulcan culture was different, and if she didn’t really know how different they were to humans then Jim would tell her about the Gods blessed talking jar and how most Vulcans thought psi-null people were psi-null because they didn’t have souls to straighten that right out. Even if their romantic relationship didn’t recover, if Spock decided he wanted to move on or Uhura wasn’t interested in the sort of partner sharing that Spock was unfazed by, he was fairly certain they could sort out their professional relationship. He’d have to touch base with Yeoman Rand about Uhura’s side of the story, of course, but they were both proud of their professionalism. They’d whip themselves into shape in a bout of pure self-discipline now that they knew other people were being affected.