Chapter Text
Jim slid his sunglasses down his nose when a shadow crossed over his face, blocking the sun. A man was standing there, dressed in yellow swimshorts that showed off his muscular torso and arms, his defined abs. He was all tan skin and blonde curls and Jim would usually be thrilled for this guy to interrupt his sunbathing, but the whole feelings for Spock thing had left him unable to drum up interest in anyone else lately, so he was mostly exasperated.
He started to say something, but the man spoke first, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Vulcan on a beach before.”
Jim realized with a jolt that the man hadn’t been looking down at him; he’d been looking down at Spock where he was sitting on his towel next to Jim.
Spock glanced up from the datapadd he’d smuggled from the ship despite Jim’s best attempts to stop him. He had, at least, agreed to work on his personal projects only, and he’d been sorting through some data on the flower clusters he was researching, periodically bouncing thoughts off of Jim as they sunned. That morning, instead of robes, Spock had shown up in the living area of their suite in a black linen button-down and matching shorts that had almost given Jim a heart attack. Jim's heart health had only continued to be tested when Spock had undone half the buttons on his shirt as they sat in the sun, showing off a triangle of thick black chest hair that Jim wanted to lick; between that and Spock’s long, bare legs, Jim had a hard time focusing on his book all afternoon.
Jim hadn’t realized he’d been staring like an idiot until Spock’s voice shook him out of his reverie. “If you have never before been to Vulcan, that would not be unusual.”
The man grinned, charmed, and Jim hated him. “Well, that’s my loss. What brings you to Xeniar?”
“We’re on shore leave,” Jim spoke up. “Starfleet.” The guy looked at him and Jim forced himself not to flex or suck in his stomach.
“Starfleet,” the man repeated, raising his brows, impressed. His bright eyes returned to Spock, lingering on his bare chest. “What is it you do there, exactly?”
“He’s my first officer,” Jim answered for Spock, even though the man wasn’t looking at him anymore. “And my science officer.”
“Wow,” the man said, licking his lower lip. “Beautiful and smart? My lucky day.” Spock opened his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to conjure up words to respond; he never seemed to know how to react when people flirted with him, particularly when they were so forward. The man pressed on, “What kind of science are you interested in? Just space? Stars?”
“I am currently synthesizing data about a particular flower blossom,” Spock replied, able to regain his footing in the conversation with a concrete question.
“Oh,” the man’s face lit up. “Flowers, huh? You know, we’ve got a great city botanical garden not far from here.”
“I read about it in the tourist brochures,” Spock said. He had, and he'd told Jim all about it one night over chess, showing him pictures of some of the more interesting plants; Jim had gotten them tickets that night.
“You should let me take you,” the man said. “Show you around the city a little bit.”
“We have tickets to a performance tonight, actually,” Jim said before Spock could reply. He felt Spock’s eyes on the side of his head, but didn’t look at him.
“Oh, yeah?” the man asked, eyes still locked on Spock.
“Yes,” Spock said, inclining his head slightly. “We are planning on seeing the opera.”
“Sure,” the man said, rubbing the back of his neck, taking the rejection gracefully. “It’s a great show.” He started to step back, his shadow retreating from where it loomed over them, but paused and held out a hand. “I’m Andy, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around later and we can figure something else out..?”
Spock shook the man’s hand. “Spock.”
“Spock,” Andy said with a smile. “Pretty name for a pretty face.” He glanced at Jim, then back to Spock. “Have fun at the opera.”
Andy walked away without looking back and Spock went back his datapadd like nothing had happened. Jim pushed himself up on his elbows and waited for Spock to comment, to say something, but Spock just made a note on his padd.
When he did finally look up, it was to frown at Jim, his eyes tracing Jim's shoulders. "You are starting to burn. You need to reapply your sunscreen."
Jim reached up to feel his left shoulder; it was dry and starting to get a little tight. He dug into the bag between them to find the tube of sunscreen Bones had insisted on giving him. He tossed it to Spock, asking, "Mind getting my back, Mr. Spock?"
Jim was in the middle of a debate with Bones about a rule in Romulan poker when he realized Spock had left to get them refills at the bar a while ago. He craned his neck to do a sweep of the bar, peering through the crowded dance floor. He caught sight of a tall, lithe frame with pointed ears by the bar and settled back against the booth again.
“Found him?” Bones asked loudly right in Jim’s ear.
Jim shot him an unamused look and stole a sip of his drink. “Just making sure he wasn’t kidnapped. That would be our luck on shore leave.”
“It would,” Bones agreed. He leaned back against the booth and smiled at Jim, languid and open. It was nice to see him relaxed for once. A flicker of amusement flashed through his eyes as he glanced towards the bar again. “But it looks like Spock’s gonna have another kind of luck this shore leave.”
Jim didn’t love the sound of that. He followed Bones’s gaze and frowned when he saw a vaguely familiar man talking to Spock and standing way too close. Spock, used to humans and their norms around personal space, bore it with his usual grace, though Jim could see a note of stiffness in his spine.
It was the guy from the beach, tall and tan and muscular and unfairly handsome. Andy. He was smiling at Spock with his perfect white teeth. Jim seethed as the man reached out to touch Spock’s upper arm, squeezed his bicep.
“Looks like Spock’s got an admirer,” Bones said. “Good for him.”
“Spock doesn’t want admirers,” Jim grumbled. Andy said something that made Spock raise an eyebrow and Jim was going to explode.
He didn’t realize he was sliding out of the booth until Bones grabbed his wrist, chiding him, “Hey, come on, now isn’t the time for you to play jealous boyfriend. Let Spock have some fun.”
“I’m not jealous,” Jim protested, as flush creeping into his cheeks. “I just—Spock doesn’t always know how to get out of social situations he doesn’t want to be in, I’m just looking out for him.”
“How do you know he doesn’t want to be there?” Bones asked. “Looks pretty happy to me.”
Spock looked…tolerant, Jim guessed. Andy motioned to the bartender, who handed him two glasses filled with amber liquid. Andy pressed one into Spock’s hand, letting his touch linger. Spock said something, probably telling the man that human alcohol didn't affect him, but Andy just smiled and motioned for him to drink anyway. Fucking rude.
“You know, you could solve this little problem of yours by telling him how you feel,” Bones suggested, as unhelpful as ever.
“And ruin our friendship?” Jim scoffed. “It’s not worth it.” He chewed on his lower lip, watching Andy’s hand drift from Spock’s arm to his waist. Spock looked so good, dressed in the all-black palette he favored outside of work. His tucked-in black t-shirt emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, and Jim itched to wrap his arms around him, sure they’d fit perfectly together.
“Well, then let Spock have some fun for once in his life,” Bones said, knocking Jim with his elbow.
Spock had fun all the time. Spock had fun when he and Jim played chess together, he had fun when they sparred at the gym, he had fun when they had dinner together, he had fun on shore leave when Jim took him to museums and plays and operas and gardens. Jim was a fun guy.
Across the bar, Andy took a step closer to Spock. Spock kept the glass he was holding between them, providing a minor barrier. Andy leaned down to whisper something close to Spock’s temple, one hand moving up to touch the pointed tip of Spock's ear.
This time, Jim was on his feet and crossing the bar before Bones could stop him. He wound through the dancefloor and planted himself next to Spock. He smiled broadly at Andy and laid a hand on the small of Spock’s back, unabashedly possessive. Andy dropped his hand and hung back a step, his blue eyes running up Jim evaluatingly.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Jim said, anything but. He pointed to the drink in Spock’s hand. “That for me?”
“It’s for Spock,” Andy said. “It’s a local rum I’m trying to talk him into trying.”
“Human alcohol doesn’t affect Vulcans,” Jim said. He motioned to Spock for the glass. “I’ll give it a try.”
“Sure,” Andy’s smile didn’t falter. Jim met his eyes as he drained the glass. It was good, damn it. Andy's eyes flicked between them. "So, you two are together, then?"
"We are not romantically involved," Spock said and he might as well have punched Jim in the stomach for how it felt hearing it out loud so bluntly.
"No?" Andy eyed Jim doubtfully before returning his attention to Spock. "So you're single, then?"
"I am not romantically attached," Spock confirmed.
"I find that hard to believe," Andy said, his eyes raking over Spock's lithe frame, lingering on his shoulders and taking their time around Spock's slim hips. "You're really a beautiful creature."
"He's not a creature," Jim said, unable to keep his mouth shut at that.
"Jim," Spock said quietly. "It is fine, I am certain he meant no offense."
"I didn't," Andy said. "I was just trying to compliment you, but I can't seem to stop putting my foot in my mouth." He smiled at Spock, sheepish and agreeable. "Maybe we should go somewhere quieter?"
Jim set his empty tumbler on the bar top as the bartender came over with the tray of drinks Spock had ordered for the table. Jim smiled at her in thanks as she set it down. “We should actually get back to the table with the others, right, Spock?”
“I’m sure they won’t mind if I steal him from you a little bit longer,” Andy said, raising his eyebrows at Spock.
For a second, Jim thought Spock was going to take the man up on his offer. He was awash with relief when Spock said, “I should return to my friends. It was pleasant speaking to you again, Andy.”
“Pleasure was all mine, Spock,” Andy reached out and took Spock’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. “You know my room number, if you want a nightcap.” His eyes slid over to Jim briefly and he gave Jim a deliberate once-over. “You’d be more than welcome to join, Captain.”
With that, he melted into the crowd on the dancefloor.
Jim stared after him a second, taken aback. He hadn’t expected the last-second offer of a threesome, and it pissed him off a little bit on Spock’s behalf. “What a dick.”
“He was…determined, “Spock said, the statement frustratingly neutral.
“Well, forget him,” Jim picked up the drinks tray. Spock, for someone so graceful in some ways, could also be incredibly clumsy and Jim didn’t trust him with it. “Let’s just get back to the others.” He started to walk away from the bar, but Spock didn’t follow. He turned to look back, concerned. “Are you okay? That guy didn’t hurt you or anything?”
“No, he did not,” Spock said. He folded his hands behind his back, straightening his shoulders. “I simply do not wish to cause any inconvenience if you do wish to join him tonight.”
“What?” Jim almost dropped the drink tray. He moved back to stand closer to Spock. “I don’t want to—why would I want to do that?”
“He is attracted to you,” Spock said. “And, as far as I can tell, is an attractive man himself.”
“As far as you can tell?” Jim repeated. He’d never really asked what Spock thought about humans, aesthetically. He tried not to get bogged down by that for the moment. “Uh, he’s not really my type.” Spock’s brows drew together and Jim tried not to think about all the tall, blonde men he’d disappeared with on shore leave before. “He was really interested in you, not me. Besides, I want to hang out with you guys tonight.”
Spock inclined his head, indicating for Jim to lead the way back to the table. He sat next to Jim in their booth, squished between him and Uhura, and Jim tried not to appreciate the long line of Spock's body pressed against his, the spicy smell of the perfume he wore, the way Jim could almost feel the low rumble of his voice when Spock spoke. Spock was drinking some local juice that he seemed to be enjoying, so when he finished his glass, Jim jumped to get him a refill.
"Back for another round of that rum?"
Jim wanted to slam his forehead against the bar in frustration at the sound of Andy's voice. He forced a smile and mentally urged the bartender to hurry. "You're still lurking around here? I think he's made it clear he's not interested."
"You've made it pretty clear," Andy tilted his head, considering Jim for a long moment. "You know, your friend is too cute to have you playing guard dog. Pretty thing like him deserves someone who will treat him right."
"He isn't a thing," Jim snapped. He didn't like how this guy was talking about Spock, calling him a 'creature,' a 'thing.' "And I'm not his guard dog. He can do whatever he wants."
"Does he know that?" Andy asked. "Because you've been all over him since I met the two of you."
"Maybe because you can't seem to keep your hands to yourself," Jim shot back. "Vulcans are touch telepaths, asshole, you can't just grab at them."
"He didn't seem to mind," Andy said, licking his lower lip and leaning intentionally into Jim's space. "I think he even liked it."
"Go fuck yourself," Jim snapped, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. He could not punch this guy, could not cause a scene. He was a starship captain, for fuck's sake.
"I certainly plan on fucking something," Andy said. "Doubt it'll be myself." He pushed off the bar. "I'll see you and your pretty Vulcan around."
"I wouldn't count on it," Jim said shortly. The bartender handed him two glasses and he took them, moving to go back to the table. Before he got too far from the bar, he turned around to warn Andy, "You put another hand on him and you'll see exactly how hard this guard dog can bite."
In their hotel suite, Jim lingered in the shared living area between the bedrooms, watching the line of Spock’s throat as he drank his glass of water in the kitchenette. Jim cleared his throat and asked, “Could I interest you in a nightcap?”
“A nightcap?” Spock repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Jim held up a finger and ducked into his room to grab his bottle of Illoyian port from his suitcase. Spock’s brows rose even higher when he saw it. “Where did you acquire that?”
“Oh, a friend of a friend,” Jim hedged, going to retrieve two glasses from the cabinet. As he poured himself a dollop, he glanced up at Spock. “This is alcohol that affects you, right?”
“It is,” Spock confirmed, drifting to Jim’s side to accept the glass from him. He looked down at the deep orange liquid, an odd expression on his face. “You…got this for me.”
“Sure,” Jim shrugged, leaning back against the counter and taking a sip of his drink. It was sour, tart on his tongue. “Doesn’t seem fair we all get to let loose and have a few drinks and you don’t.”
He relaxed when Spock took a sip from his glass. Jim motioned towards the living room and they moved to make themselves comfortable, Jim on the couch, Spock in one of the armchairs.
They drank in companionable silence, looking out over the beach through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The stars were pretty, but nothing could compare to seeing them from the bridge of the Enterprise.
“You know,” Jim said, breaking the silence. “If you want to…spend time with that guy, he…he seems very interested in you.” Andy's accusations ran through his head, him and Bones telling Jim to back off, to let Spock have fun. Maybe he had been too aggressive. He didn't own Spock, it wasn't fair to act like he had any right to dictate Spock's personal affairs.
Spock hummed, running one long finger around the rim of his glass as he considered. “He is interested in bedding a Vulcan, certainly.”
“Well,” Jim said. “You don’t have to bond with the guy. He just wants to take you to the botanical gardens.”
Spock fixed him with a confused look. “You and I already have tickets to the botanical gardens.”
“I know that,” Jim said. “I’m just saying. If you want to go with him, I won’t...I wouldn't be offended.” He'd be inwardly devastated, but that was for him to handle.
“I do not want that,” Spock said. “I am not interested.”
“Really?” Jim pressed, because he was a masochist. “You even said it, he’s an attractive man.”
“He is, to use your phrasing,” Spock said, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “‘Not my type.’”
The corner of Jim’s lips quirked up into a smile at that. “No?”
“No,” Spock confirmed. “I would prefer to spend shore leave with you and our friends.” He tilted his empty glass towards Jim. “And this Illoyian port.”
Jim got up to refill Spock’s glass, warmth spreading through his chest. He was surprised when Spock let their fingers brush when Jim handed him back his glass, but it was nice; he could grasp a distant sense of content, relaxed, appreciative and he smiled, pleased Spock was happy. “I think we can manage that.”